- NATE -
The universe is expanding
But I don't feel a damn thing
But I don't feel a damn thing
Necessity makes a different man out of Nate. There’s so much to focus on, so quickly, that it holds him together easily. The awkward slog home, how he half carries Sunjata, just to help it go by faster, to get them home sooner. The treatment, carried out so much more carefully than his own at been, unnaturally steady hands preventing as much pain as they possibly can. Unwelcome thoughts do creep in now and then; a distant hilarity stemming from the fact that not that long ago, a fuming rage at Jack, though he’d already wrung what revenge he could out of the captain, a strangely clear wince of empathy, at how the wounds cut across carefully laid lines of ink. All of them are tamped down in favour of focus.
Even his own pain is ignored, carefully contained behind a layer of more pressing worry. He isn’t distant, not by a long shot, but it’s as if he’s ignored or forgotten the broadcast from Wessex, the news shoved so deeply inside of him that it’s a wonder he even manages to tell Sunjata, with terse words, dragged out of him and then moved past, while Nate changes bandages, one of the dozens of tasks he fills his days with. They fill the dark hours with some kind of purpose
It feels so strange when a grey and drizzly dawn finally begins to break, the longest night finally over. The darkness had begun to feel like it would never leave, but the weak light filtering in means he can set himself to a proper schedule again, instead of using his best judgement. And first thing on the schedule is some kind of breakfast.
Sunjata is still sleeping when Nate slips downstairs, Pemota drifting high above the bed, keeping an eye on him, as much as she can. And when Nate returns, hands full with two mugs of coffee and a bowl of oatmeal, Sunjata is awake, on his side. The coffee and food is set on one of the bedside tables, ignored so Nate can settle in beside his fiance, run a cool hand along his jaw. ”Good morning.” The words are warm, but careful, just like the touch, the one eyed gaze. It hurts to admit, but they’re out of sync again, off balance and spinning slowly into the dust.
Even his own pain is ignored, carefully contained behind a layer of more pressing worry. He isn’t distant, not by a long shot, but it’s as if he’s ignored or forgotten the broadcast from Wessex, the news shoved so deeply inside of him that it’s a wonder he even manages to tell Sunjata, with terse words, dragged out of him and then moved past, while Nate changes bandages, one of the dozens of tasks he fills his days with. They fill the dark hours with some kind of purpose
It feels so strange when a grey and drizzly dawn finally begins to break, the longest night finally over. The darkness had begun to feel like it would never leave, but the weak light filtering in means he can set himself to a proper schedule again, instead of using his best judgement. And first thing on the schedule is some kind of breakfast.
Sunjata is still sleeping when Nate slips downstairs, Pemota drifting high above the bed, keeping an eye on him, as much as she can. And when Nate returns, hands full with two mugs of coffee and a bowl of oatmeal, Sunjata is awake, on his side. The coffee and food is set on one of the bedside tables, ignored so Nate can settle in beside his fiance, run a cool hand along his jaw. ”Good morning.” The words are warm, but careful, just like the touch, the one eyed gaze. It hurts to admit, but they’re out of sync again, off balance and spinning slowly into the dust.
Love and understanding
Were simply too demanding
Were simply too demanding
