[This post is from Thom’s point of view.]
Thom startled awake in the darkness. The last vestiges of a vision were still fading, but the marks they left were deep. He blinked once, twice, unsurprised to find his lashes and cheeks damp with tears.
“I won’t,” he whispered to the darkness. “I can’t.”
His hand went to Marin’s side of the bed. It was cold, though the blankets were rumpled. He took another slow, shaking breath, reaching for calm even as his gaze drifted toward Lin’s cradle, vision adjusting to dim of the room. Breathing came a little easier when he saw the baby was gone, too.
Probably went for a walk. Maybe he woke up, she didn’t want to disturb me. He swallowed a groan as he lifted a hand to rub at his eyes. Not that she could’ve. How long was I asleep? What time is it?
Everything still ached, but he’d lain around long enough—he’d decided that the night before, though he hadn’t breathed a word of it to his wife. Marin was worried enough as it was, though he loved her for it. He didn’t need to add to that worry—not beyond what he’d already planned, anyway.
Slowly, painfully, he sat up in bed. He didn’t feel light-headed like the last time, and his stomach stayed here it was supposed to be.
An improvement, right?
His shoulders and back still hurt, though, and there was a dull, distant pounding in his temples.
Take what you can get. He swallowed and slowly stood, legs a little shaky, but still better. His knee protested as he limped to the dresser for a change of clothes. That was going to take longer than he wanted to heal and he knew it.
Got through the last time. I’ll get through it this time, too. He leaned against the edge of the dresser for a moment, weight on his good leg. It’ll just be as annoying as the first one.
“At least I figured out how to walk with crutches,” he murmured to himself, then shook his head. It didn’t seem to make the pounding in his head any worse.
Another small favor.
I’ll take what I can get at this point.
Shaking his head, still smiling ruefully, he started to get dressed. Morning or not, there was something left of a day to face, and one way or another, he was going to face it, visions or no visions, injuries or no injuries.