Dirges In The Dark by SecondGuess

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Each slow step towards the edge of Danziger’s bed brought forth a new disturbing element, focusing the harsh truths of the situation into a sharp relief. The muted pant that signaled each of John’s staccato, shallow breaths, his perfect right foot sticking out from beneath the blankets with it’s blood flow monitor attached to the big toe, flashing numbers that Devon knew were far too low. Even Danziger’s frame appeared smaller somehow, despite the fact that the narrow bed barely fit his great size, it seemed that in great strain of the past few days had gleaned pounds from his body. Devon was struck with the image of John’s heart laboring to beat, how tired it must be, that even the blood given so freely from his child and friends couldn’t sustain it. Smiling at her own folly, at the downward spiral of her morale over the course of this cool desert evening, she rubbed absently at the bandage on her arm where Julia had methodically prodded every member of Eden Advance.

“It figures, Danziger…” She whispered with hushed chuckle, sitting tiredly on the stool by the bed. “Even our blood types aren’t compatible.”

Even his sleep looked pained, the line of his strong jaw twitching imperceptibly now and again. His pallid eyelids stirred with the erratic movements of fevered dreams, the short, flaxen lashes brushing against his cheek in a constant tattoo.

Poised so rigidly on her stool, Devon suddenly became aware of the fact that she was afraid to touch him. It was impossible to know which innocent gestures would sooth and which would distress him further. Fingers twisting in her lap, she resigned herself to let him sleep, not to fuss. Instead she passed the crawling minutes observing the minutiae, fixated on the slightest movements, the most insignificant details. She drank John Danziger in tiny draughts, knowing she would never again be foolish enough to think she could have her fill.

There was small smear of blood at his hairline that had been missed by her careful attempts to clean him up earlier, when she had been holding herself together through the gore and the tension of helping Julia with medical procedures she couldn’t begin to understand. She’d discovered that if she didn’t look at his face, if she pretended she was looking at the insides of a stranger and not the mangled legs of the man who had spent the morning carrying her son on his shoulders, recounting the same army stories that got more outlandish with every telling, she was able to keep the hysterics at bay. Devon hated that she hadn’t noticed the smear until now.

His beard was getting a bit long, even for John’s usual masculine, unkempt style. He would want a shave soon, she imagined, knowing full well that it would be a long while before he was cognizant enough to even consider such trivialities. Maybe when he was feeling a bit better he and True could resume their morning ritual.

Devon’s eyes trained down to his broad chest, catching on the beads of sweat glistening along his clavicle. As she watched they pooled and crept over his shoulder, disappearing into the labyrinth of damp curls along his neck.

Fingers shaking, the words feverstoohigh careening around her subconscious, she tentatively rested the back of her hand against John’s cheek, aware of the heat radiating from him even before her cool skin made contact. Despite the deception of the blankets piled high and the cool blue tinge of his slightly parted lips, there was a fire raging inside Danziger that instantly struck fear into Devon’s heart. Suddenly, she understood Julia’s rising concerns; could clearly grasp the peril her friend was still in. This simple touch, one of tenderness rather than medicinal necessity, was nearly Devon’s undoing.

“We’ve gotta get you cooled down, Danziger.” She murmured softly, more to herself than the slumbering man. Peering around the tent for something to help staunch the helplessness welling in her chest, she left his side quickly to retrieve a small metal bowl, which she filled with cool water, and a clean cloth.

Moving back to his side, she wet the fabric and wrung it out tightly, setting the bowl on a nearby overturned crate. No longer as concerned about his comfort as she was about his condition, she gently began methodically wiping away the sweat from his collarbone and chest, quelling the flames that licked at his forehead and dry, cracked lips. Carefully, she scrubbed at the offending smudge.

Danziger stirred at the contact, his unguarded expression conflicted, as if each swipe of the chilled cloth across his brow brought discordant waves of relaxation and tiny fissures of pain. Julia had explained to her earlier that the loss of so much blood had left him with extreme sensitivity and nerve pain, and Devon was careful to watch expression for any sign that she should stop. Instead, he seemed to settle down a bit, a stillness settling over him that Devon hadn’t seen since the accident.

“You know Danziger,” She teased, running the compress over the his smooth, finely haired bicep, “There are easier ways to get a day off.” Even as the words left her mouth they felt hollow and empty. Humor wasn’t her strong suit. It was Danziger’s place to make the flippant comments, the harmless jokes at her expense. Why did she feel suddenly so incomplete that she was trying to fill the void he’d yet to leave? Bruised and tattered, frighteningly vulnerable, it was still Danziger lying there before her. He hadn’t left her yet.

Devon reached for the bowl, turning away to moisten the cloth again, and when she turned back she was surprised to see Danziger’s eyes had opened, staring distantly at the roof of the tent.

“John?” She asked softly, the forgotten rag dripping excess water down her forearm, soaking her shirtsleeve. “Danziger?” His gaze didn’t falter, but he worked his lips, running his tongue over them in an effort to speak.

“A number five should hold her…” He whispered, heavy eyelids falling shut. “Just clamp it until…” He swallowed hard. “…Anthro-Sceptor….”

Startled by his disorientation, Devon brought the cloth to his forehead again, white-knuckled and trembling.

“Hey Danziger, you with me?” She asked lightly, wetting down his hair gently. Receiving no response, she hesitated in questioning him further, knowing there was no point in bringing him round just to ease her own apprehension when rest was what he needed.

Instead, of their own accord, his eyelids lethargically opened once again, and his gaze instantly met hers. Despite the haze of hard earned medicated passivity she saw in them, she immediately knew that this time he was aware of his surroundings.

"Devon." he murmured as she began the circuit again, cloth soothing his chest and neck, the skin as pale and seemingly paper-thin as parchment. Though his color had yet to improve, she tried not to dwell on the negatives, rationalizing that she had all the color she needed at the moment in his big blue eyes: miraculously open, reasonably clear, and undoubtedly looking expectantly in her direction. “You’re not…I thought you…never mind. I’m pretty fuzzy.” He finished with a loopy smile, and Devon grinned with a laugh of relief she felt clear to her toes.

“I think Julia should bottle this stuff, when you don’t need it anymore.” She teased, tapping the bag of translucent medication dangling from the tent support by his head.

“Naah. Makes you….lazy.” He responded seriously, and Devon chuckled again, not trusting herself to speak.

John's hand stirred at his side as he held her gaze, fingers opening and closing like a drunken spider, helplessly waiting for its pray to snake her fingers through its own. Reaching with the other to replace the cloth in its bowl, Devon complied, lacing the fingers of one hand through his, stroking his skinned knuckles with the other.

"How's my baby girl?" He asked, his cheek twitching with the exertion of an inquisitive smile. His look so doe-eyed and languid, Devon blinked, momentarily confused. Exactly what kind of drugs did Julia have him on? "How's True?"

Instantly contrite and more than a little embarrassed, Devon smiled and squeezed John's hand, the gentle pressure eliciting the slightest of grimaces. In his own quiet way of showing her he was okay, his thumb began lightly tracing a reassuring pattern on the back of her hand. Beside the bed, one of Julia’s monitors uttered a single beep.

"She's fine, Danziger. Worried about her Dad, of course, but she's being so brave." She assured him, the image of True's tear streaked face swimming in her memory, stoically sitting on her father’s vacant cot while Julia quickly withdrew a small amount of blood, Bess silently stroking the girl’s hair. “The Martin’s are taking good care of her, John. She’s such a good girl.”

Opening and closing his eyes deliberately, Danziger seemed to be fighting against the current of medication sweeping through his system.

“She’s…True’s…the World.” He spoke in a broken whisper, his eyes begging her to understand all he was trying to convey. Biting the inside of her lip hard enough to draw blood, Devon nodded wordlessly.

John’s grin grew suddenly overcast, and his heart rate monitor registered an increase as his gaze left Devon‘s, erratically scanning the roof of the tent, eyes rapidly pooling with tears.

"What is it? John? Are you in pain?" She asked, worried, her head cocking slightly away as her voice rose in volume; ready to shout for Julia at the slightest provocation.

His lower lip quivering the tiniest bit, Danziger's gaze once again met Devon's with desperation, and as he struggled through the mental fog, teetering on the cusp of articulation.

"Did she see?" He asked slowly, the terror in his eyes conveying the details his inquiry lacked. Sighing, thankful she could grant him this smallest of reprieves, Devon shook her head quickly.

"No. No Danziger, she didn't see, we kept her away." Leaning in closer, Devon consoled him as best she could, her hand stroking a lulling rhythm across his pale hair and his paler brow.

"Thank you." He breathed, his shoulders visibly relaxing. He weakly squeezed her hand, closing his eyes again.

“Shhh, you need to rest, Danziger. We can talk more later, okay?” She cajoled, hoping he was tired enough to--just this once--do what she asked. He shook his head slightly, squinting up at her determinedly.

“Adair I…I don’t have much later left.” before she could protest he cut her off lightly. “Hey…just…let me win this one, okay?” He tried his best to tease, somehow summoning the strength to lift her hand to his lips, kissing her fingers softly. “Just listen for a minute…Devon, please.” He whispered, months of unspoken affection in the small gesture. There was no stopping the tears this time, Devon realized, even as they were coursing down her cheeks.

“Okay, John, I’m listening.” She assured him, reaching for the compress again, afraid in equal parts of the returning sheen on his burning forehead and the tremendous awareness of loss filling Danziger’s gaze. Gently she lowered his blankets a bit, freeing his left arm and abdomen, wincing slightly at the deep discoloration skirting the edges of the solar flannel. A deep purple peeked from the edge of the bandage covering the area where Julia had gone in to stop the internal bleeding in his pelvis. Devon went to work, her free hand immediately returning to John‘s.

“You’re the only person…only one I would trust to raise True. It’s not just…here…I’ve never met someone I would want to be…mother.” He let out a small gasp, his arm jerking a bit in her grasp. She yanked the cloth away as though he was hot enough to scald her, but he shook his head, “S’okay…feels nice.”

Startled both by his admission and by the lightning strike of his discomfort, Devon did her best to sound casual.

“I’m honored that you’d say--” John let out a groan of dismissal.

“Adair, don’t talk…listen.” He reminded her, and she made s show of ‘zipping her lip,’ one of Uly’s favorite expressions borrowed from True. Danziger smiled. “Good.” Wincing a bit, he cleared his throat.

“I’m not like you…trusting. It takes me too long to figure stuff out, sometimes…but I…Devon, I know you’ll be such a good mother for True…I just wish, I could…watch you.” The pleading in his voice was almost unbearable, as if every confession was prayer to whatever god was listening. Devon had stilled her ministrations, her hand resting softly over Danziger’s heart. She concentrated on its steady rhythm, let it distract her from the sensation of her own heart breaking.

“You will, John…you’re gonna get through this. You can’t give up--”

“Not givin’ up…just givin‘…instructions.” He corrected her, reigning in his emotions as best as he could. He continued with his eyes closed, as though to bare his soul and look her in the eye while he did so took entirely too much energy. “In the pocket of my tool belt there’s a vid chip…it‘s the only one I‘ve…It‘s Elle and I…the only one I‘ve got. Make sure you give that to…True, just in case…” He assured her, trying to take the bite out of what they both knew was nothing more than a series of last requests.

“I will, Danziger, I promise.” She capitulated, studying his expression, the pain visibly creeping back in around the edges. “Are you okay? Should I get Julia?” She asked gently.

“…hot in here.” He murmured, by way of an answer. Devon refreshed the cloth and set it on his forehead, a sigh of relief escaping his chapped lips. “I want Uly to have the belt…True will want the tools, but…you tell her I said to share them….with him, and that’s final…” A fleeting smile rushed across his relaxed face, giving Devon the strange impression of a dog dreaming of a bone. “You tell Uly he’s the…bravest person I’ve ever met. Never thought I’d get the chance to have a son, but I did…s‘how I always thought of him…you’ve got…special boy, Adair…don’t let True pick on him too much…”

Devon swallowed hard, struggling with every ounce of her being not to interject and tell him he could tell her son all of this himself when he got well. At the very least, she hoped he could rest easier getting all this off his chest. She could argue with him about this futility complex later, when the worst had passed and they both could laugh about it.

“There’s also a ring. For Elle. She wouldn’t…anyway, s‘hidden in my cargo bin…I was keepin’ it for…I didn’t really know why I was keepin’ it. Think I figured it out.” He confessed, opening his eyes again to reveal an almost entirely new color. What had been a deep lapis moments ago was now splintered through with streaks of gray. Whether it was the return of his discomfort or the sheer gravity of the conversation, a newly minted pain had taken up residence in the depths of his irises.

“I want you to have it, Devon…I want you…keep that as a…token…” He took a deep, shuddering breath, trying to keep the cobwebs of sleep and the sting of tears in check. “I’m sorry…sorry I’m such a stubborn fool…ever since the day we landed on this planet…took our first vote…I knew it would eventually be yours.” He inhaled sharply, a rush of pain sending shivers through his body. “Everything else….trade it to the Grendlers…get somethin’ good for those…ugly shirts.” He wheezed out a chuckle. Perfect Danziger, Devon thought, to make such a profound offer and brush it off in his next breath. That was exactly why she had fallen in love with him.

“You keep it safe for now, John…we can discuss this again when you‘re up and around, and kicking yourself for giving away all your stuff.” She chided, unable to hold back a protest one second longer. He let out a harsh bark, a laugh even his exhausted body couldn’t contain.

“Okay…deal.” He whispered, kissing her hand again, as though now that the flood gates had been opened he couldn’t deny himself the contact. Eyes drifting shut, one side of his mouth curled up in a rueful smile. “Hear that, El, babe…’m oh for two…”

Devon could hardly make out the garbled words at first, but once deciphered they still didn’t seem to make much sense, and found herself suddenly wishing Julia would return soon. Helplessness was not something Devon was capable of dealing with, especially after all that Danziger had said, now that she’d finally been willing to listen to him. She stroked his cheek gently, unconsciously noting the fever heat that never seemed to lessen.

“Need a shave…” Danziger murmured, clearly on his way out, and it was Devon’s turn to laugh. He never ceased to amaze her.

“Well, I’ll see what we can do about that, Danziger.” She pinched his cheek gently between two fingers, immediately smoothing the spot with her knuckles.

Pain or no pain, it was clear that a few minutes of fleeting lucidity were enough to fatigue the mountain of a man, and Devon couldn't help but be relieved to see that by the time she'd turned back from wringing out the compress once again, he was well on his way into a deep slumber.

“Is it night?” He asked, his voice no more than a hushed exhalation.

“Yeah, it is, Danziger. Everyone’s asleep but you. Get some rest, okay? Julia will be back soon and she’ll get you more medicine.”

“Yeah.” He agreed, squeezing her hand again, this time with a bit more strength. “In the mornin‘…need to talk to…Walman…” He slurred, fighting to keep his eyes open a bit longer. “Think I….figured out…”

“First thing.” She agreed softly, grinning again, thankful his breathing was starting to even out. “Rest now, Danziger.”

“…thanks for…lettin‘ me win…“ He breathed, asleep before the last word could even leave his tongue. Devon kept her hand solidly against his cheek, greedy for the closeness and for the masculine texture of the coarse down against her soft skin. In her other hand, still anchored at his side, John's long fingers slowly unfurled like a flower.

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