When he'd taken the last of his tablets, Des had expected his body to deteriorate fast from then onwards and, in that, he hadn't been disappointed. It was his voice which went first, so that he could speak only in a rasping whisper. And then his legs had followed. And his heart and his lungs gave signs of following soon after wards. And so, barely
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Comments 64
She hadn't been avoiding the clinic, exactly, although she wasn't quite sure how to approach Captain America and that been a factor, but if that's where Des was, weren't a darn thing going to keep her away. She slid onto the edge of the bed, forsaking the chair left out for visitors, and snuck her hand across the sheets to curl her fingers around his.
"Hey, sugar."
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"Hello Rogue," he replied. "It's good to see you."
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She wasn't going to ask how he was feeling, or if she got around to it, she certainly wouldn't mean physically.
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Which was true, though they both knew it wasn't boredom that left him so tired.
"I have a favor to ask."
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I've had plenty of time to wonder if the extraordinary nature of his nose is a mutation, or an illness; if it's related to the cause of his stay in the clinic, or if it's superficial. When I notice him awake and, moreso than in the last day, alert, I finally have the opportunity to broach a subject that's been in my head since his admittance.
"I never saw The Jolson Story," I tell him, closing the book in my lap.
"It came out in '46, didn't it?"
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"It was something of a sensation, at the time," he added. "I've never seen it either. I was never ready for it."
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"Overseas. Plenty of newsreels, though. I knew it was popular, but I didn't realize it warranted... preparation."
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"There was a fighter pilot, a hero, named Robert Tomlin. And, in my world, he died over the skies of New York in '46. The story goes that his last words were "I can't die yet, I haven't seen 'The Jolson Story.'" It is something I have been thinking about a lot, recently."
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"Hi," he said, and struggled up into the chair by the bed so he could be at eye level. "Hi Mister Desman."
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"It's morning," he said, tugging at the corner of the bedsheets. "Why you still'n bed?"
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