Nightmares
Up in her room at Milliways, Rae dozed, seeking sleep. Breaths shallow and quick, she tossed and turned through the night. She had torn the dressing on her wound, unconsciously scratching at it as it burned and bled. She'd have to find the laundry room the next day, to see to her stained sheets. She must have done more laundry in the last few months than in the entire previous year. It struck her vegetarian, squeamish self as ironic how good she had gotten at removing bloodstains.
She just couldn't ever relax, which was almost as exhausting as the effects of the poisoned wound itself. Rae always had to move carefully to keep from pulling at the skin of her upper chest, and she had already mostly trained herself not to shrug. What she hadn't foreseen was the effect that her wounds (both physical and mental) had on her relationship with Mel. They had always taken comfort in their ability not to talk about issues. Their lack of need to do so. But now, when she was forced to lie all the time and desperately wished she could confide in someone, that comforting silence had slowly become suffocating.
She hated this wound, this... incarnation of everything that's gone wrong in the past two months. She hated it. She hated being so fragile, self-conscious during sex from the threat of her wound cracking open and bleeding poisoned blood everywhere, which would only put that deep, distant look on Mel's face, the look that hurt Sunshine to see. She hated being unable to sleep, even held in the comforting strength of his embrace, for the nightmares would follow her there, as well. His serenity, his Zen self-possession, unshakable, was a comfort to her, but the silence of not talking about what was hanging over her, hanging over them both, was threatening to become a wall between them.
Milliways had shaken her, and Mel was not there for her. He could not hold her, wrapping his arms around her and holding her until she calmed and was part of reality again. Here, she could not lean against his strong, solid chest and smell the scents of his shift as head cook, the garlic and olive oil, the tomatoes and peppers. Here, he could not lean his head down, eyes closed, and smell the scents of yeast-bread, cinnamon and chocolate that she carried with her from her bakery. Here, she could not see the silent trust and love in his chocolate-brown eyes as he gazed at her. Without him, in this lonely, strange, sometimes sick-making place, she felt she was lacking a strong pillar keeping her stable.
She often found her mind turning to him as she lay in her bed, unable to rest. Turning to how he would hold her as they lay together, running his fingers through her hair as they kissed, his other hand pressed against the small of her back. She would run her fingers back through his short, light brown hair and hold him close as they kissed, as if frightened he would disappear. Her mind remembered how he would surprise her yet again with the strange mixture of biker toughness and vast, zen tranquility, like living proof that oil and water could mix. He would kiss her forehead, her lightly closed eyelids, the tip of her nose just to make her smile, and lastly her lips, murmuring lines of some poem she didn't know. Poetry she thinks even his biker friends wouldn't know.
"...That killing power is none of thine,
I gave it to thy voice and eyes.
Thy sweets, thy graces, all are mine," he would murmur, moving to kiss just under her chin, featherlight, down her neck to the hollow of her throat.
"Thou art my star, shine'st in my skies."
His lips dotted constellations of kisses upon the slight ridge of her collarbone, her head lying back upon her pillow, eyes closed in contented, sleepy pleasure.
"Tempt me with such affrights no more,
Lest what I made I uncreate," the voice rumbled against the smooth skin of her chest, just above the swell of her bosom.
"Let fools thy mystic form adore,
I know thee in thy mortal state.
You are my sunshine."
Rae's mind hadn't even processed the change in the voice before she felt a sudden eruption of searing pain across her chest. She could not react beyond screaming at first, in the face of the thought-destroying burn, the feeling of her muscles convulsing in pain. After what felt like an eternity in that moment, with great effort, she lifted her head to look down. Long, dark hair met her sight, lying against the skin of her breast. Over the pain, she could not feel it lying there any more than she could feel the blood running over her as teeth dug into her flesh. Eyes green as emeralds flashed in the darkness.
When she awoke, she awoke crying out in pain and fear. Her eyes were blurred with tears, her sheet stained brown-red, sticking to her where the blood from her wound had dried. It was there, curled up and shaking, that dawn found her.