Although three floors separate David from the misery below, he's still fully aware it's there. He used to help, or at least visit the lower wards when walking wasn't synonymous with agony. He's slowly making his peace with the fact that he can't help directly -- not when his hands are nearly solid stone and his feet aren't far behind.
At his request, the nurses remove the wheelchair after he's comfortably situated on one of the couches. He's painfully aware of his own increasing weakness both from the syndrome, and being confined to the indoors. No jogging. No exercise. No fresh air. Just another step in the petrification.
He'll just have to find peace elsewhere.
David glances across the lounge at the elevator from time to time. She should be here soon.
She makes a point of visiting him everyday. Calling beforehand when she gets the time to, or calling and having lengthy conversations on the phone if she, for some reason, can't make it in person. Although those times are few and far between. There's little that can keep her from David these days.
The elevator ride always seems to take longer each time. And sometimes, it really does. The cables and gears whir and chug, dragging the metal box to the uppermost floor. This building was in disrepair, understaffed and underfunded. And some of the other facilities she's had to go to in order to collect data and samples are nothing short of gulags or leper colonies. This is one of the nice ones. Jenna sighs and leans against the wall of the elevator for a moment, holding her head in one hand as she's suddenly struck by the weariness that usually follows going through those hallways
( ... )
David knows what she has to walk past to get here, and that her smile is mostly for his benefit. He still smiles back -- always smiles back -- taking a moment to see Jenna as Jenna, removed from context.
As always, he reflexively thinks of those gestures he'd make if he were able -- stand to meet her, grasp her hands, a kiss. All he can do is sit forward, elbows on his knees, lock her eyes, and wait for her to cross the distance.
"Hey, you," he says softly through his smile when she's within distance. Compared to the floors below, it's quiet here but for the occasional squeaky wheel of a gurney or the click of hard-soled shoes on the linoleum floor. Most of the patients in this ward are too doped up -- can afford to spend the rest of their days as such -- to make much of a fuss about their situation.
Sometimes the patients in this ward bother her more than the nightmares just a few floors lower. The silence, it's like waiting for something horrible, and being too out of it to care. It's stagnating is what it is. Its the sound of something awful coming slowly, inevitably, towards those in here, and there's nothing anyone can do about it. Just going quietly into the night was never anything that sat well with Jenna. Dignity, yes; indifferent, no
( ... )
After so much verbal dancing around referencing his illness, about how it can be what kills him soon, David even slightly touching on it makes Jenna wince. And the main difference here now is that David is content to let this be the end, since he had his moment of happiness with her. But Jenna...Jenna is more prone to grab hold of that happiness, clutch it with an iron grip, not let it go for ANYTHING, because it's HERS, and nothing should have the right to take it from her. Nothing should be able to take her David away from her...
"I'm not going to let this take you away from me, David," she says softly, repeating her thoughts. And then when asked if she'd keep going without him...That's such a horrible, harsh, cold notion. One she hesitates entertaining, because she just can't imagine life without David in it now.
"...I-I don't know, David. I need you here with me, I love you so much. And w-with you gone, I don't-...I don't even know what I'll do with myself. I just wouldn't see the point anymore. If I couldn't save you..."
"I'm sorry, Jenna, I know it sounds like I . . ." He trails off and changes his tack, continuing a little more firmly, "But I don't want to pretend like it's not a possibility. I want us both to be ready for anything."
He's had a lot of time to think lately, and he knows how much his death would affect her. Her life hasn't exactly been blue skies. Far from it. He has that sinking sensation that this might be the proverbial straw that breaks the camel's back. Another reason not to die.
"Jenna . . . we'll keep working together on this. That's all we can do right now -- try our hardest. And keep visiting. Seeing you every day helps so much, Jenna. You make it all disappear." He punctuates that statement by ducking his head and pressing his lips against hers.
Her eyes close as he kisses her, and she soon is returning the affection, wrapping her arms around his neck, releasing a shaky breath through her nose.
"You make me so happy, David," she finally whispers once the kiss breaks for a moment. "I want you with me forever. I know, I'm being selfish and clinging, I know. But I don't care. Especially now, with everything, all over the world, falling apart...You're the only thing I want. You're the one thing I have to save. You're the first and only person to really love me, and you, as a person, are just too precious to let go."
She pets his hair again, looking up into his eyes, almost pleadingly. Please stay with me. Don't go.
He kisses her forehead before leaning his own against hers. He meets her gaze with a more determined one. "I won't leave you." He lets a long silence hang after that, during which he simply closes his eyes.
He finally speaks up again, more of a conspiratorial whisper. "I do want to leave here, though. Just for a day, or even a few hours. I'd like to go outside and get some fresh air."
Comments 37
At his request, the nurses remove the wheelchair after he's comfortably situated on one of the couches. He's painfully aware of his own increasing weakness both from the syndrome, and being confined to the indoors. No jogging. No exercise. No fresh air. Just another step in the petrification.
He'll just have to find peace elsewhere.
David glances across the lounge at the elevator from time to time. She should be here soon.
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The elevator ride always seems to take longer each time. And sometimes, it really does. The cables and gears whir and chug, dragging the metal box to the uppermost floor. This building was in disrepair, understaffed and underfunded. And some of the other facilities she's had to go to in order to collect data and samples are nothing short of gulags or leper colonies. This is one of the nice ones. Jenna sighs and leans against the wall of the elevator for a moment, holding her head in one hand as she's suddenly struck by the weariness that usually follows going through those hallways ( ... )
Reply
As always, he reflexively thinks of those gestures he'd make if he were able -- stand to meet her, grasp her hands, a kiss. All he can do is sit forward, elbows on his knees, lock her eyes, and wait for her to cross the distance.
"Hey, you," he says softly through his smile when she's within distance. Compared to the floors below, it's quiet here but for the occasional squeaky wheel of a gurney or the click of hard-soled shoes on the linoleum floor. Most of the patients in this ward are too doped up -- can afford to spend the rest of their days as such -- to make much of a fuss about their situation.
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"I'm not going to let this take you away from me, David," she says softly, repeating her thoughts. And then when asked if she'd keep going without him...That's such a horrible, harsh, cold notion. One she hesitates entertaining, because she just can't imagine life without David in it now.
"...I-I don't know, David. I need you here with me, I love you so much. And w-with you gone, I don't-...I don't even know what I'll do with myself. I just wouldn't see the point anymore. If I couldn't save you..."
Reply
He's had a lot of time to think lately, and he knows how much his death would affect her. Her life hasn't exactly been blue skies. Far from it. He has that sinking sensation that this might be the proverbial straw that breaks the camel's back. Another reason not to die.
"Jenna . . . we'll keep working together on this. That's all we can do right now -- try our hardest. And keep visiting. Seeing you every day helps so much, Jenna. You make it all disappear." He punctuates that statement by ducking his head and pressing his lips against hers.
Reply
"You make me so happy, David," she finally whispers once the kiss breaks for a moment. "I want you with me forever. I know, I'm being selfish and clinging, I know. But I don't care. Especially now, with everything, all over the world, falling apart...You're the only thing I want. You're the one thing I have to save. You're the first and only person to really love me, and you, as a person, are just too precious to let go."
She pets his hair again, looking up into his eyes, almost pleadingly. Please stay with me. Don't go.
"I'll find a cure. I promise. No matter what."
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He finally speaks up again, more of a conspiratorial whisper. "I do want to leave here, though. Just for a day, or even a few hours. I'd like to go outside and get some fresh air."
Reply
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