Page 21 of Absolution

I glance at him, the man who almost killed me once, who stalked me across the country, even past its borders. He is silent and pale, his hair hangs in his face but he doesn’t seem to notice. His eyelids are heavy, almost closed, but I know he is no more asleep than I am. I hope I can convince him to take us back to town. Where we’ll go from there I don’t know. Right now it all seems so petty. Petty problems. Cecilia is sick.

“Christian,” I whisper.

He stirs and turns toward me.

I look into his deep brown eyes, the light from the kitchen illuminates them from the side and makes them glow golden. He doesn’t scare me anymore. My heart makes a sudden leap at the unexpected recognition.

“Yeah?” he answers hoarsely.

“How did you get here?”

He frowns. “Why?”

“You must have a car? Where is it now?”

“Yeah, I had my car.”

“And where is it?”

“Some ways down the road. Why?”

“We need to get out of here. As soon as it gets bright enough outside, we need to get her to a doctor.”

He sits up straighter. “You figure? You think she’s that bad off?”

I suddenly feel so infinitely small. “I don’t know. How can I tell? Her temperature hasn’t lowered despite the Advil and… I don’t know. But I don’t want to wait and see and then find out it was the wrong decision.”

He regards me for a long time. “All right. I agree. I left my car, maybe half an hour’s walk, or a little more, down the road, not far off from the box.”

“Okay. That’s good. It’ll probably take us longer, carrying Cece, but that’s good. It’s not too far.”

He nods.

“Will you help us?” I ask, suddenly shy, blushing slightly. It’s dark. I doubt he sees it. I hope he doesn’t.

“Help? Hell! Of course, Ker. I don’t want anything bad to happen to her any more than you do. We’ll leave as soon as we can see where we’re going.”

I sag with relief. “Thank you,” I whisper.

When it’s been decided, all my nervous, worried energy leaves me in an instant and I can finally rest. Pulling my legs up under the blanket, I occupy one end of the couch and drift to sleep while Christian sits next to me and guards our baby. It should be so ironic, laughable even, that I can come to a rest in his presence, but there’s nothing to laugh at. He has really turned into her father tonight. I don’t know what to make of that, but my brain is too fried from all the concern and these last few days lack of sleep, so I don’t even try to think harder about it.

It is what it is.

Christian

I was so tired I thought I’d fall asleep at any moment, and now I can’t stop thinking about what she said. My brain finally works again after these oddly slow, and yet turbulent days, and all the little synapses sparkle to life in every nerve ending. As I watch her sag more and more until she lies like a little curled up cat at the far end of the couch and her slow, even breaths tell me sleep has finally claimed her, I start making plans.

We’ll have to wait until it gets bright. Then we’ll find some clothes, and eat. Hopefully we’ll get the little one to eat as well, but she should be the safest one on this journey, nonetheless.

The car isn’t too far away. I’ll go get it, drive up here and then we’ll be on our way. Sprague. I’m not sure how far that is. Kerry should know. How the fuck could she choose to settle in this Godforsaken place.

I know I can’t stay with them. Kerry has made it clear, time and time again, she won’t ever be with me. I’ll always make sure she and Cecilia are protected, and that they’ll never lack anything, whether she likes that or not, but I’ll drop them off outside a hospital and then I’ll leave. Before anyone sees me, before anyone starts asking questions.

It tears my heart to pieces, but at the same time the decision gives me some small amount of peace. It’s a relief to have made up my mind. I stand up and stretch my limbs, touching my tender shoulder. It feels less strained but I’m gonna have someone look at it.

And the knee. Fuck. The knee will be hell to walk on tomorrow.

Listening to Cecilia’s breathing, I finally pull the blanket tighter and curl up at the other end of the couch, opposite Kerry. I can’t remember when I was this tired. Ever.

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