Hando shot to his feet, leaning over the bed and shaking her gently, "Sy? Shit, Sy? Hey, wake up, hon, please?" She didn't respond, not even a mutter, and he leaned back to gather his thoughts, Bloody hell, what do I do now? He leaned back over the bed, placing a gentle kiss on her lips, and whispered, "If you can hear me, hon, I'll be right back." He took the key and left the room, striding down the hallway to the stairs. He wasn't quite sure where he was going to go, but he knew that someone would have a better idea than he did about how to revive her. Though he didn't want to admit it to himself, he was worried about her, and he could feel his heart pounding in his ears as he rushed along the hall. He turned the corner to the stairwell and collided at pace with Maximus who was coming the other way.
A powerful hand came up lightening quick to grab Hando's arm and hold him there. "Whoa, Hando, what's the rush?"
"Max, Sy...," Hando pulled back from Maximus' iron grip but was unable to break his hold.
"What about her, Hando? What did you do?" Maximus' tone took on a tinge of anger and fear, and his eyes bored into Hando's.
"Me? I didn't do anything! She took a shower, got dressed then blacked out. We were going to brekkie. I don't know... I don't know what to do." Hando shook his head resignedly, silently berating himself for not having the presence of mind to help her after what she had done for him.
Maximus nodded his head and released Hando's arm. "Let's go," his voice was steady, once again the voice of a Roman general, and he led the way back down the hallway to Syrena's room. Hando unlocked the door then stepped back to let Maximus take control of the situation. The general crossed to the bed where Syrena lay in a swoon and felt for a pulse. Finding it strong he held his hand in front of her face to feel the moist heat of her breath. Satisfied that she was still amongst the living, he turned to Hando. "Do you know when she ate last?"
"Uh... no idea."
"She needs sustenance. I don't think she ate after you were found, and before that I don't know. Is there any food in here?"
Hando looked around the room, not seeing anything edible, and shook his head. "Unless...," he turned and hefted her pack onto the bed beside her. "Maybe she's got some food in here. She's got everything else in here, it seems," his attempt at levity fell heavy in the room as he rummaged in her pack for some type of food. "Got it," he exclaimed extracting a PowerBar and handing it to Maximus. "So now what do we do, Max? Can we wake her?"
"She'll come out of it on her own, Hando." Maximus turned to look at Hando, taking in the worry in his eyes and the creases on his brow, and continued explaining, "Her body just had to shut down for a while--too much activity and not enough nourishment. I'm sure she'll be fine." He looked back down at Syrena who now looked like she was just sleeping, her eyelids flickering slightly as though in a dream, and smiled. "I was worried about her, too. She wasn't in the tavern this morning, and...," his words trailed off as he reconsidered them.
"What, Max? You thought I'd hurt her? After what she did for me? She saved my life, Max," Hando felt a hard spot in his stomach grow into anger as he spoke. "She bloody well could have let me die back there, Max, but she didn't. She stayed with me when fuckin' nobody else would," his voice dropped to a hiss, and he clenched his fists. The tendons in his wrists strained against the wraps, sending tendrils of pain up his arms, and he turned back to look at her, sighing deeply. The anger subsided as he gazed at her peaceful face, and he reached to run his fingers through her hair, caressing her gently. "I... I couldn't hurt her, Max. I just... she's...," he stopped speaking to lean over her and lay his head on her chest, listening to the steady thumping of her heart, before continuing in a whisper. "She's the only one who cared, Max. I owe her my life."
The store front was nothing exceptional; a simple window with two silver-faced mannequins standing front and center. Shades were drawn over the main door and a small "closed" sign hung off the door knob. It was nothing out of the ordinary, but Colin couldn't pull himself away, his eyes taking in every detail. The dark blue dress on the mannequin held his gaze; its silky look, the v-shaped neckline that was accented by a beautiful string of diamonds at the base of her throat, the way the material curved over her breasts and waistline, and the way it fell into a pool of soft dark fabric at her feet, making her look as though she were walking on water. She held out her arm, her silver fingers gently resting on the arm of her male companion. He wore a rich, black tux and Colin took him in with a quick glance, his gaze now focused on their silver featureless faces. He saw something there he didn't expect to see -- a look of pride, admiration and most of all, love.
Soft music filled his ears and Colin closed his eyes, sighing heavily as he felt buried memories resurface. A feather-light hand touched his sleeve and Midori looked up at him, her brown eyes wide. He took a deep breath as he gazed into her beautiful face, memorizing it. She rested a hand on his shoulder and he felt his hand move around her waist as they swayed to the music. They looked into each others eyes, taken up in themselves and the love they held for each other.
Colin gasped suddenly as he felt a sudden heat against his skin. The putrid smell of burning oil and rubber filled his nostril and he was brought back to the present, the image of Midori vanishing like a wisp of cigarette smoke. With a quiet groan, Colin turned away from the shop window, his heart heavier than it had been only a minute before.
The memory of his previous life served only to remind him what he had her at the Crowe's Nest, great friends and brothers and most of all the love of a good woman. And the thought of loosing her caused his heart to ache within his chest. He walked for some time, thinking about how he could possibly win back Michelle's affection, letting his feet carry him where they would. He had come to no obvious conclusion when he found himself standing in front of his private garage. He opened the side door, stepping inside and allowing his eyes to adjust to the dim light within. His eyes wandered over the body of his fire engine red 1968 Chevy Chevelle, feeling the cool metal against his skin.
Sliding behind the wheel, he started the engine, smiling softly as it roared to life. He hit the remote, watching the garage door open before him, bright morning sunlight pouring in. He swung the shift into gear and pressed the pedal to the floor. The tires squealed beneath him and the car peeled out of the garage, burning rubber as he turned the corner and took off down the street.
Syrena rose to consciousness slowly, becoming aware of the weight on her chest then the ache in her back from the awkward position she was in on the bed. Her mind whirled with thoughts of the situation, and she heard people talking, asking what she had said, but she was unable to explain. She felt the weight disappear from her chest, then her hand was engulfed in heat. She awoke abruptly, jerking her hand away from the searing flame, and opened her eyes to see Hando sitting beside her looking confused. Maximus was standing slightly back from the bed, and he smiled warmly when her eyes met his.
"Good morning," Maximus intoned, stepping forward.
"Sy? Hon, are you okay?" Hando's voice was soft and quiet. He reached for her hand, the same one she had jerked away, and drew it into his warm rough hands.
She sat up slowly, noting the spinning of her head. "Morning, guys. What's up?" She ran her free hand through her hair and groaned, closing her eyes, "Mmmm... headache."
"You blacked out, Sy. I was worried about ya. Are you feeling better now?" Hando brought one of his hands to her face, cradling her cheek gently in his palm. She nodded mutely without opening her eyes.
Maximus opened the PowerBar and pressed it into her hand, "Here, eat this." His voice still held the strength of command, and Syrena obeyed, biting off a piece and chewing slowly, feeling the muscles of her jaw against Hando's open hand. "When did you last eat, Syrena?"
"Um... I don't remember," she replied between bites. "Maybe... a late breakfast yesterday?" She opened her eyes, her headache beginning to subside, and grinned sheepishly. "Too much excitement, eh?"
"You could say that," Maximus smiled. "What is nightengale? You said that when you were coming to."
Syrena chuckled. "Nightengale, eh?" Great, so it's escaped my subconscious now. How do I explain this? "Well, Florence Nightengale was a nurse in some war, I don't remember which one. I guess I was just dreaming about her."
"Can I get you anything, Sy? Brekkie maybe? I can bring it up."
"That would be great, Hando. Whatever you're having--it's all good here." She smiled gratefully as he stood, giving her hand one last squeeze, and turned to go downstairs. The door closed behind him, and she turned to Maximus. "Oh, Max, I think I'm digging myself a big hole, here," her voice wavered, and she caught her breath.
"Are you alright?" He lowered himself onto the bed and wrapped his arms around her.
She leaned into his warm embrace and pressed her face into his shoulder, fighting momentarily with her emotions before taking a deep breath and sitting back. "Right, yeah, I'm fine, it's just..." Maximus looked inquiringly into her eyes. "Well, the Florence Nightengale Syndrome is basically the misguided thought that you can help everyone. One of the effect is a close... uh... emotional bond with those you help. I... well, I guess, no, I know I feel... mmm... deeply for Hando, but what happens when this is all over? Max, I don't want to hurt him, and I don't want to get myself hurt again. I feel... well, it's like I'm setting myself up for the fall here. Does that make sense?"
He nodded sagely and squeezed her shoulder. "Syrena, Hando's bonded with you, too. You're very important to him, and I don't think he's going to forget any of this. I don't really have any advice to give you except to do what you feel is right for you, take it slow and everything will work out for the best."
She patted the calloused hand on her shoulder and smiled, "I know, Max. Thanks for listening and understanding." She sighed deeply and leaned to rest her head on his strong shoulder, feeling him put his arms around her again and hold her comfortingly. They sat like this in silence, listening to each other breathe, for some time, separating when they heard the click of the key in the lock marking Hando's return with breakfast.
Colin let his mind empty of any thought. Instead he focused solely on the purr of the engine, the feel of the road beneath him and the response of the Chevy to his direction. His hands gripped the steering wheel as he took the car through another curve in the road, gravel spraying behind him as he fishtailed. Expertly righting the wheel, he pressed his foot down on the gas pedal, watching as the speedometer passed over 100. The landscape flew passed him, the tires gliding over the pavement.
He heard it before he saw it, the warning blast of the train. Glancing to his left, Colin watched it approach. With a sharp turn of the wheel, Colin veered off the road, aligning himself with the tracks. He pressed the pedal to the floor and smiled as the car responded to him. Soon he and the train were neck in neck. He guided the car effortlessly over potholes and bumps, swerving around telephone poles, tress and brush.
Ahead Colin noticed an road crossing the tracks, along with an old service building on the far side that blocking his future path. He shifted gears, the engine growling as it was forced up to 140, then 150. With a glance in his side mirror, Colin watched as the train loomed close behind him. It gave a series of warning blasts as the crossing approached. Speedometer now in the red, Colin gripped the steering wheel, his foot pressing the pedal hard against the floor.
He hit the pavement of the road, the Chevy's suspension taking the impact and turned the wheel slightly, guiding the car diagonally over the tracks. Going 150, the car protested as it flew, it wheels loosing contact with road as it crossed the wooden and metal planks. Glancing over his shoulder, Colin saw the train barreling towards him, its horn blasting angrily. Seconds later he felt the train clip the tail end of the Chevy, sending him spinning wildly into the bush.
Hando braced the door open with one heavy boot and bent to pick up a large tray of breakfast food: hotcakes, eggs, ham, a large carafe of orange juice, a bowl of fresh strawberries, and the like. He smiled as he entered the room, letting the door swing shut on its own, and place the tray on the table next to the bed. "I didn't know what to get, Sy, so I picked a bit of everything. Are you feeling okay now?"
Syrena nodded, her heart in her throat cutting off her powers of speech, and smiled up at Hando with gratitude in her eyes. Maximus stood up, "Well, friends, I will let you eat in peace. If you need anything...." He left the thought unfinished, but the implication was understood.
Hando extended his hand to rest it on Maximus' shoulder. "Ta, Max," he said hesitantly as though unfamiliar with the feel of the words on his tongue.
"Not a problem, Hando, Syrena." Maximus bowed his head slightly in farewell and left the room.
Syrena looked over the fare before her, trying to decide where to start, when Hando interrupted her reverie. "Oh, almost forgot," he said, shrugging off his heavy coat and laying it across the chair beside the door. Syrena watched him curiously as he opened the door and knelt to retrieve something he'd left outside the room. She felt her eyes begin to water as a mixture of confusion and happiness washed over her upon seeing what he held in his hand. "I... well, thank you, Sy, for staying with me last night. This... uh... this doesn't say what I feel right now, but I...," his voice trailed off as he sat on the bed beside her offering her a crystal bud vase with a single red rose. "Thank you," he whispered, his breath warming her neck and sending shivers up her spine.
She took the vase and pressed her nose into the flower, inhaling its scent haltingly as tears began to course down her cheeks. "Sorry," she said, crying and laughing at herself at the same time.
"Hey, hey, what's wrong?" Hando took her chin in his hand and turned her to face him, gently wiping away her tears. His fingertips traced burning trails on her skin until he gathered her into his arms. She pressed her face to his chest, feeling his strong arms around her and his hands making circles on her back as she had done for him, comforting. He smelled of soap and musk, and she inhaled deeply reveling in his scent for a moment before extracting herself from his embrace.
She met his worried gaze with reddened eyes and a bright smile. "Thanks, Hando. I... sorry 'bout that. It's been a hectic couple days, and I guess I just had to, well, cry. Thanks."
Resting one hand in the crook of her neck against her skin, he smiled and ran his other hand across his chest where her tears had fallen. "Any time, love."
"Right, enough of that," Syrena chuckled, silently cursing the roller coaster ride her emotions had taken in the past twenty-four hours. "Let's eat before it gets cold, then I'll change your bandages, eh?"
The emotional tension hung in the air, hovering over their heads like a thunderhead, and they ate in silence. The plates cleared, she retrieved her first-aid kit and carefully cut the bandages from his wrists. One wrist looked fine, healthily pink and beginning to heal, but the other was an angry red colour. "Damn," she cursed under her breath. "This one's infected, hon." She pressed the ragged edges gently, feeling its heat through her fingers, and he winced painfully. She looked up at him, her eyes filled with empathy, and continued, "I'll have to reopen it and scrub it again. It's gonna hurt like a bitch, Hando, but we've got to nip this infection. You ready for it?"
"As ready as I'm gonna get, Sy," he responded. Syrena led him to the bathroom where she would have instant access to hot water and clean towels. He sat down on the edge of the bathtub and gritted his teeth as she gently pried the edges of the gash apart and held his wrist under the warm running water.
The initial impact of the train threw Colin against the driver's side window and then forward into the steering wheel. The Chevy hit the ground, bouncing as it spiraled through a series of rolls. Colin soon found himself pinned beneath the dash, heated metal pressing against his leg. Memories of flames and the smell of gasoline filled his mind and he yelled, gripping the wheel as the car took two final tumbles before it stopped with a jolt.
He came to seconds later, pain searing through his body. Pulling on his leg, he felt and heard his jeans tear against metal. He winced and sat still, focusing on his surroundings. He recognized instantly that he was upside down, his body pressed awkwardly against the steering wheel and roof of the car, he also realized that the cab of the car had grown unusually dim and muggy and when the sound of water hit his ears, Colin redoubled his efforts, tugging on his legs until in a surge of pain they were pulled free from the dash. He tumbled back onto the roof, clutching his legs as he tried desperately to control the pain that racked through his body. Water pooled around his shoulders, pouring in through the side doors and front windshield, rising rapidly. Colin shook his head, his mind clearing as adrenaline pumped through his veins. He rolled onto his back, squeezing himself between the leather seats and the compacted roof and into the empty and as yet, dry backseat. He spun around quickly, slamming his feet into the back windshield, wincing as he felt the force of the impact through his entire body. He pounded again and again, feeling the glass slowly weaken under the pressure. The water had reached his shoulders again and Colin had to focus on keeping his head above water as he tried to break himself free of this watery tomb.
"C'mon you bloody bastard!" He shouted in frustration as he pointed the heel of his boots at a crack in the glass. It shattered underneath the strain of another pounding and the force of the water around it swept the shards of glass on top of him. Buried in a flow of water and glass, Colin scrambled for a grip. His right hand made contact with the window frame, splinters of glass cutting into his fingers as he pulled himself upwards.
The force of the suction as the car sank deeper into the water made it more difficult for Colin to lift himself out of the vehicle. He felt his jacket catch on a broken piece of metal, pulling him under as the car disappeared beneath the surface of the water. He struggled out of the clinging material, water threatening to fill his lungs as his sleeves caught around his wrists. Finally pulling himself free, Colin slid out of the window and broke the surface of the water gasping for breath.
