Awakenings

[This post is from Seamus’s point of view.]

His eyelids grew heavy and he tried to concentrate on the sound of her breathing, of the soft, steady thump of her pulse. He could sense it more than hear it—a healer’s instincts, no matter what his protestations might have been, never really went away, nor did the magic bound up in those instincts. Leinth was warm; her arms were safe. Sleep tugged at him, seductive as any lover, as comforting as his lady’s embrace.

So long as the dreams he feared did not come, all would be well.

Seamus drifted, his breathing evening out slowly but surely. There were flickers at the edges of his vision, even as his eyes closed—things he’d forgotten, things he never wanted to know. He tried to push them away. He wanted to rest, to sleep. Sleep was what he needed, needed as much as he needed the woman next to him, as much as he needed air and food and love.

For a few minutes, he thought that maybe it would be all right. Maybe the panic was for nothing. Maybe Daegon had been mistaken in what he’d seen, or the distance, or something else.

Maybe it had all been some sort of bad dream.

“I love you,” he murmured to Leinth. He felt her smile.

“I love you even more.” She pressed a kiss to the top of his head and he smiled, curling one arm around her and drawing her closer, tighter.

“We’ll have forever this time,” he promised in a bare whisper. “I swear.”

“I’m going to hold you to that promise,” she said. “Now sleep.”

The command was too much not to obey. He sank down and down, into the gray warmth, and for a time, he knew nothing at all.

Then, someone knocked on their door.

[This post is from Seamus’s point of view.]

                “Is that what’s bothering you?”

                He sighed again.  “Shouldn’t it be?”

                “I suppose.”  Leinth leaned down and pressed a kiss to his forehead, then resumed running her fingers idly through his hair.  “But it will be all right.  We just have to have to have faith—have faith in our friends, our family.  It’ll be all right.  We’ve faced worse and come out the other side.”

                “Worse,” Seamus echoed.  “But nothing quite like this.  You know that as well as I do.”

                She leaned down, looking him in the eyes.  He stared back, feeling lost, helpless.  He reached up to stroke her cheek, his heart aching.  Leith kissed his thumb lightly before she continued, her voice low.  “Are you worried that the dreams will come again?  The ones you were having before?”

                He squeezed his eyes shut and nodded slightly.  Her fingers tightened briefly in his hair and he shivered, swallowing hard.

                “You can’t let fear own you,” Leinth said, her voice gentle, pain threaded through it.  “This isn’t like you.  I’ve never seen you like this.”

                “It’s been a long time since I was allowed to.”  Seamus tugged at her arm gently and Leinth stretched out next to him, wrapping her arms around him carefully.  “Vulnerability has been a liability for me ever since I was a teenager.”

                “It will be okay,” she said, the words quiet but forceful.  “No matter what, Seamus.  I swear it.”

                He buried his face against her shoulder.  “Just stay like this,” he murmured.  “Just for a little while.  Until I can fall asleep.  Then I want you to go talk to the others and figure out how to fix this mess before it rages out of control.”

                “All right,” Leith said.  “I promise.”

                “Good.”  It was only then that he started to relax, by inches and fractions, the feeling of her arms around him helping to quiet his swirling thoughts.  Perhaps he would be able to sleep after all.

                Perhaps.

[This post is from Seamus’s point of view.]

                Sleep eluded him, and he could feel the weight of Leinth’s stare settled on him even as he lay in their bed, his eyes closed.  She sat in a corner, needle and thread in hand, working on something—he wasn’t sure what.  Seamus finally opened his eyes, staring at the ceiling.

                “You should be sleeping,” Leinth said, her tone mildly chiding.  “What’s the matter?”

                “I can’t,” he said, then sighed.  “I’ve been trying for—how long has it been since we got back here?”

                “Hour and a half, maybe,” Leinth said, still not looking up from her sewing. “You seem restless.”

                “That’s one way to put it,” he murmured.  “I would love to sleep, but I’m too awake for it.”

                “You realize that sounds absurd.”

                “Absolutely.”  He closed his eyes for a moment.  “But that doesn’t make it any less true.”

                Leinth stayed silent for a few seconds, then set aside her sewing and came over to the bed, settling down on the edge of it.  She reached down, her fingers gently combing through his hair, and he opened his eyes to look up at her. He smiled faintly.

                “Tell me everything’s going to be okay,” he whispered. “Lie to me a little bit.”

                “You don’t know it’s a lie.”

                He just smiled sadly at her and she sighed, looking down.

                “It’s going to be okay,” she whispered in response.  “It won’t be a lie.”

                “Okay,” Seamus said.  “I believe you.”

                Even that was a lie, no matter how badly he wanted to believe her—how badly he hoped it would be true.  Perhaps that was why he couldn’t sleep.  Perhaps he was worried the dreams would come again.  If he were honest, he’d been having dreams about what he knew would come soon for years—decades.  He had known something would shift.  He had known a reckoning would come.

                Still, he worried.  It was all he could really do.