Midnight Vigil.
by Nic (stardestiny@bigfoot.com)
23 November 1998.
A certain D&D-er asked me to write something sweet and romantic
("happy, no angst, sappy"). So I took time out from "The Rivers of
Blood" to tell you this short tale. I couldn't keep the angst out
of it, but it is happy and sappy. :)
For reference, ten metres is about 30 feet. (I think.)
Disclaimer: The characters and situations contained within are the
property of Universal/Amblin Entertainment.
Maggie - this is for you.
MIDNIGHT VIGIL
His breathing finally begins to settle and I smile with relief.
There is no more agitated tossing and turning; it seems he has
finally drifted into a deep, healing sleep. Gently, I reach out
one hand to brush his golden curls away from his eyes and reflect
that he really needs a haircut. I would never have dared touch him
like this during the daytime, when either he or the others could
see me, but the night seems seclusive enough.
There is always a special magic to the night. It lets us say
things we wouldn't normally say, do things we wouldn't usually do.
But every time dawn comes, those long, sweet moments of watching
him breathe are gone.
How many times, I wonder, have I sat in this very position keeping
vigil beside John Danziger's bed? In the corner, True is curled up
in a chair, fast asleep, but there is a worried furrow in her
forehead. I contemplate waking her up and telling her not to
worry, her father's sleeping peacefully now, but I don't want to
disturb her.
Actually, it's more selfish than that. I don't want to disturb my
own silent contemplation of this man - this infuriating, stubborn
man - who has almost gotten himself killed *again* today.
He claimed it was for the good of the group but why does he always
go out on such a limb? He takes unwise risks and puts himself in
danger without a thought for his own life, and there is nothing I
can do to stop him. When John Danziger gets a thought in his head
not even an object-wielding evil maniac can get in his way. I
should have him tied down for a month.
The tiniest of moans escapes his lips and I become instantly alert,
leaning closer, listening intently for any more changes. Maybe he
is remembering today's incident at the cliff. "Just a little
further," he'd said, leaning out in an attempt to see what lay
beneath us through the fog of swirling mist. And of course the
cliff had to crumble.
My heart almost stopped - in fact, I think it did - when I saw him
go over. I wanted to scream but True more than made up for me in
that department. Besides, I had to keep calm for the good of the
group.
We were lucky today. He fell only a few metres, maybe ten or so,
before hitting a ledge. He plunged a hole straight through the
clouds too, so at least we could see him for a while until the wind
swirled more mist in to surround us. Honestly, it's like another
world up here when the clouds roll in.
Where was I? That's right, Danziger had gotten himself a
concussion and a broken arm as well as numerous bruises which isn't
too bad considering that he *fell off a cliff*. A cliff. I still
can't believe the trouble this man gets himself into. Nearly dying
in the desert from lack of water, then exposure, a worm bullet,
trapped in ten tonnes of solid rock...it's a wonder that he's still
alive. Yet here we are, fifteen months (or what we used to think
of as months) on our way to New Pacifica and he hasn't managed to
kill himself yet.
His actions make him all the more endearing, I suppose. Would I
feel the same way about John Danziger if he wasn't so headstrong?
And how do I feel, anyway? I wonder about that for a long time
this night as I sit silently, watching the gentle rise and fall of
his chest as he dreams, peacefully, I hope. Another part of me
hopes that he is dreaming about me.
He's given me so much on this journey. A no-nonsense attitude, a
voice of reason (or opposition upon occasion) but most of all, his
trust. Once he had given me his personal stamp of approval, it was
like the world had suddenly became brighter. I - I think I love
him.
I can never tell him that in the waking hours but now, this soft
sweet night where clouds billow around our tents and beg to be told
secrets, the restraint inside me begins to crumble. I don't know
what I would do without this man in my life and it terrifies me.
What's even more frightening is the thought of telling him so.
A half-smile curves across his face and now I know for sure that he
is sleeping peacefully. Again I lift my hand to his face, but this
time I'm feeling bolder and I caress his cheek. A sigh of
contentment escapes his lips.
"John," I whisper so very, very softly, leaning close to his ear.
"I - I'm glad you're okay. So very, very glad. You don't know
what you mean to me." I wonder if he can hear me, deep in his
dreams, perhaps its a faraway voice of comfort and love. I can
only hope so. I let my hand drift to his chest, ever so lightly
pressing there, so that I can feel the steady beat which promises
that once again, he has cheated death and is alive.
Suddenly, his hand wanders up from his side and catches mine. I
freeze - what if he wakes up and finds me touching him in such an
intimate caress? Yet it feels wonderful to hold his hand and I
find myself smiling contentedly. Rarely are we given the
opportunity to be so close. I close my eyes and muster up my
courage to face the truth. "I love you, John," I whisper.
A gentle chuckling shakes me from my blissful imagination and to my
horror, I see Danziger's blue eyes are open and watching me. Oh
god. Did he hear me? Frantic, I begin to pull my hand away from
his but he holds it even tighter. "Hi," he says softly.
"Uh...what you heard...um...."
"It's okay," he gently interrupts. He stares so deep into my eyes
that I feel I'm drowning in *him*. I can't tear my gaze away; I
don't want to and I feel as if I'm seeing deep into his soul. Is
he looking into mine?
"After all these months, and I never realised...." John finally
says, breaking the intense silent.
Half afraid, I ask, "Realised what?"
"That you loved me."
"I'm sorry," I say.
Again, he laughs. "I wasn't finished yet. I never realised that
you loved me, but it's more than that. I never realised how I felt
about you."
Too afraid to even ask the question, I stare at him mutely.
"I love you, Julia." He says it sincerely, honestly, and with so
much hidden passion as he pulls me close for an intense kiss that
takes my breath away.
Outside, the clouds roll past.
---
END.
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