Sear took one look at the bone weariness in Meld's eyes and informed him bluntly, "I am not the Database."
He simply nodded and leaned back in the small, hard hospital chair. He was the only person she had ever seen that didn't look helpless surrounded by all this hospital equipment and illness and human weakness in the face of inexorable nature. Other healers didn't have his strength when she knew he could barely stand.
Sear wasn't close to Meld. She knew how to help others when they needed it. She stood guard over Shift's visits to her daughter. She sutured up Protector's injuries, traded macabre humor with Justus and cleaned weapons beside hm. She made the Database coffee when she was climbing the walls. But Meld…
She sighed and sat in the small, uncomfortable chair next to him. She couldn't anchor him. He'd never given her enough to get himself back through her touch.
She didn't like feeling helpless.
"I'll be fine," Meld said quietly, evenly. Always so strong even when he had barely enough life left in his body to sustain him. Sometimes, Sear thought he was unbreakable.
He didn't have to be here at the hospital, healing where he could and helping where he couldn't heal. No one was forcing Meld to be here. They were free. Free.
She leaned over and hugged him hard, startling both of them. A mess of images—gasping children, wounded limbs, blood, and his life pouring out of him until he was too weak to even stumble away—and that welter of surprise and care, the solidarity of team members.
Sear pulled away. "It would have been easier to sear you," she said because she needed to break it with something normal. She could have seen his feelings just by looking at him the right way.
A small smile caught the edges of his mouth. His fingers brushed her arm. You wouldn't hurt me.
She laughed in an undertone. "Come on. Let's get you out of here." She slung his arm over her shoulders and helped him to his feet.
Kingdoms and Thorn Ficlet: Bone-Weary Need
He simply nodded and leaned back in the small, hard hospital chair. He was the only person she had ever seen that didn't look helpless surrounded by all this hospital equipment and illness and human weakness in the face of inexorable nature. Other healers didn't have his strength when she knew he could barely stand.
Sear wasn't close to Meld. She knew how to help others when they needed it. She stood guard over Shift's visits to her daughter. She sutured up Protector's injuries, traded macabre humor with Justus and cleaned weapons beside hm. She made the Database coffee when she was climbing the walls. But Meld…
She sighed and sat in the small, uncomfortable chair next to him. She couldn't anchor him. He'd never given her enough to get himself back through her touch.
She didn't like feeling helpless.
"I'll be fine," Meld said quietly, evenly. Always so strong even when he had barely enough life left in his body to sustain him. Sometimes, Sear thought he was unbreakable.
He didn't have to be here at the hospital, healing where he could and helping where he couldn't heal. No one was forcing Meld to be here. They were free. Free.
She leaned over and hugged him hard, startling both of them. A mess of images—gasping children, wounded limbs, blood, and his life pouring out of him until he was too weak to even stumble away—and that welter of surprise and care, the solidarity of team members.
Sear pulled away. "It would have been easier to sear you," she said because she needed to break it with something normal. She could have seen his feelings just by looking at him the right way.
A small smile caught the edges of his mouth. His fingers brushed her arm. You wouldn't hurt me.
She laughed in an undertone. "Come on. Let's get you out of here." She slung his arm over her shoulders and helped him to his feet.