crossing_lostrp | [Daisy] Aftermath (tag Locke)

Daisy woke lying on her side, with John's arm around her. It was morning, though she wasn't sure how she knew. It just felt like morning. The sight of the room, so like the room she'd been imprisoned in, might have given her a terrible shock save that the feel of John's arm around her waist grounded her. She knew where she was and when she was. John had come for her as she'd known he would.

She remembered seeing John standing there dirty and unshaven from two days of frantic effort to reach her, and he'd never looked so good. Daisy had leaped forward to throw herself into his arms, clinging to him with desperate strength. She sought out his mouth with her own, and breathed him in. All the fear and pain and despair of the last two weeks faded away. The crushing embrace he gave her in return was mute testimony to his own feelings.

Daisy didn't know how long they stood in the middle of the room, lost in one another. She was distantly aware that figures had come and gone and circled around them, and even that some of them had had something to say to or about them, but the details were lost to her. They'd been irrelevant. But eventually their fierce embrace had slackened, and they stood wrapped in one another without speaking. Daisy could hear John's heart beating in his chest, slow and steady (but perhaps not quite as slow as usual).

It had gradually dawned on Daisy that she was covered in blood. Her hospital gown was crusted with it, as were her hands and forearms, her neck, and much of her hair. She drew back from John suddenly. "Oh! I'm a bloody mess! I must look a fright--"

John cut her off with a finger pressed to her lips. "You're gorgeous," he said. Then he stepped closer and scooped her up in his arms. Daisy gasped, surprised by the move and impressed by his strength. "But you could use a bath," he said with a smile in his eyes. "I know just the place. I saw it earlier."

Daisy wrapped her arms around John's neck and snuggled up to him as he carried her out of the room. He paused along the way to speak to someone. Daisy paid to attention to the conversation. John continued the journey, bringing Daisy at last to a large bathroom. He set her on her feet for a minute and held her until Daisy heard a faint rap on the door. John turned and opened it, spoke quietly to someone. He received a stack of towels, some scrubs and some toiletries. "Thank you," John said. The mysterious stranger answered, then pulled the door closed.

John set his burden on the counter by the sink and then turned on the shower. When he had it adjusted properly, he approached Daisy and undressed her. He threw the bloody hospital gown across the room. Then he stripped off his own clothes and herded her into the shower. Daisy let him, feeling strangely passive, even hollow, now that the initial rush of her escape--or rescue--was over.

It took three applications of shampoo before her hair was clean. Daisy stood with her eyes closed, enjoying the heat of the shower and the feel of John's hands on her scalp and in her hair. It was incredibly relaxing, almost like being a child again. Daisy didn't have to worry, didn't need to fear anything, didn't have to do anything but let John take care of her.

When her hair was clean, John continued bathing her. Daisy tried a time or two to help, or to return the favor, but John refused her gently, bathing himself very quickly when he was done with her. Then he turned off the water and spent a long time gently toweling her dry and combing out her hair. It was heavenly and Daisy was more relaxed than she'd been in a long, long time. So relaxed that she was beginning to have trouble staying on her feet.

John dressed her in clean scrubs, then dressed himself similarly before snatching her up again and carrying her out of the steamy room and into the corridor. They encountered Blaise, who nodded to them as if the sight of a man carrying his lover in his arms was commonplace. "Right down here," Blaise said, holding open the door to a room. As John stepped across the threshold, Daisy felt a moment of panic at the sight of it.

John felt her reaction. "You're safe now, Daisy. I won't leave you alone."

Blaise said from behind them, "I'll be sure to have someone bring you something when we get around to making dinner. You take care of her, John." Daisy heard the door close behind them.

She'd spent most of that evening and all of that night in that room, emerging only once at George's insistence to help round up the souls she'd evicted and put them back into their bodies so they could be locked up. Otherwise, Daisy had spent all those hours lying in John's arms--crying or telling him her story or silently enjoying his presence, or sleeping. Her sleep was fitful, and she woke often, tried to get closer to John and enjoyed the feel of him and the sound of his breathing until she fell asleep again.

As post-traumatic therapies went, it couldn't be beat.