First Words - Part I
(Intersections Story vii)
by elfin
Stephen looked up and saw Michael standing in the doorway.
"Took it badly, huh?"
Stroking his hand lightly over John's hair one last time, standing and
moving to join Michael out in Medlab. "I honestly don't
know. He was upset but he still hasn't spoken."
Michael sighed softly. "Can I sit with him?"
Stephen nodded, he didn't have to warn him about John waking.
Sitting in the chair the doctor had vacated, Michael crossed his arms
on the edge of the mattress, not touching John yet. His eyes
rested on the battered face for as long as he could bare before he had
to look away.
"God, John, I'm sorry."
He sat for a long time, staring passed the still form on the bed, not
really focusing on anything outside the trauma in his mind. So it
was a while before he became aware of John's thumb tapping insistently
on the sheet just an inch from his arms.
He glanced up and saw grey eyes watching him with a silent plea.
Slowly, Michael let out the breath he'd been holding and moved his hand
to rest his fingers cautiously over the bouncing thumb.
Immediately he felt the pressure of it curving around his index finger,
holding onto him with an unexpected strength.
John smiled at him, dark skin around bruised eyes wrinkling, one small
crack in his lips opening and releasing a drop of blood. For
Michael, it was like the sun coming out on a stormy day. His
chest heaved in a dry sob and he rested his other hand on John's arm, a
feather-light touch over the clean bandages.
"'Sorry' doesn't come close," he managed roughly, "I know that.
It's a million miles from how I feel and it... it could never be enough
to make up for this."
The pressure on his finger increased and he returned the strong
contact. John's eyes had once sparkled like stars against the
dark of space, now they shone now with unshed tears. Again, his
cracked lips moved but no sound came.
Only this time Michael saw the frustration in his expression that the
others had missed. And he remembered the burns at the back of his
throat. "John? Say something."
Another attempt, and Garibaldi was close to calling Stephen when he
heard his own name. It was nothing more than a painful whisper
but it was enough.
Leaning down, Michael touched his mouth to John's thumb, tasting the
sterile echo of bandages, only to be surprised when it moved and
shakily caressed his lips.
He lifted his head, blinking back tears. "Nothing to forgive," John whispered, firmer this time.
"How can you say that?" But the battered head moved once, side to
side. "I betrayed you. You can't tell me you didn't hate me
in there, can't tell me you sat and imagined tearing me limb from limb
as long as you could think straight." Michael's voice rose in
volume and although that didn't attract the busy doctor's attention,
the warning alarms of the monitors around them did.
Stephen was with them in a second, angry expression aimed squarely at Michael. "I told you -"
"- Stephen -"
"- he's not strong enough for -"
"- Stephen!" Michael looked pointedly from the doctor to his
patient and Stephen followed his direction even as he carried on
explaining that John wasn't in a fit state to hear anything Garibaldi
had to say.
"- and if I'm going to allow you to stay...." He trailed off, needing to shut up to listen.
"It's okay, Stephen." Still only a whisper but as powerful as a scream. "He needs to talk and I need to hear it."
Stephen stared at him. "Speaking of talking...."
"I think... I stopped myself."
It made so much sense. "So that you wouldn't talk, wouldn't tell
them anything, wouldn't say... whatever it was they wanted you to say."
John nodded once. "Not ever."
'Not even if they broke you.' But Michael kept that thought to himself.
Stephen glanced from one to the other. "Just keep it down?"
Sometime later, Michael sat with his hand tucked under John's sleeping
head. His fingertips moved restfully in the thick hair, stroking the
warm scalp. Many more tears would fall between them he knew but
at least he was certain that one day they would be sure of one another
again.
Even if it was the day they died.
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