I'll Just Stand Here and Watch You Go

Chapter 4

In a screaming moment of semi-consciousness, Alec recalled the feeling of dragging.

Asphalt and dirt on the backs of his legs. Someone grunting and huffing, gathering enough breath for an occasional curse. "Fucking – ugh - "

The dragging ceased, asphalt met head, and out like a light he went.

But then the next sensation was soft. Deceptively, dubiously so.

His eyes stung, but only from the overhead light. His face felt cold and clammy, like he'd run face first into a foggy ocean. He'd been sleeping on his side. Wincing, he moved a numbed arm, only to flinch at an unexpected soft thing. He raised his head.

A blanket. He was wrapped in a blanket. It had been pulled up to his chin.

A door swung open. "You're awake?"

He got up with another wince, pulling the blanket back. Immediately dizziness overtook him – faintly he touched a tender spot on the back of his head, a little cool. He turned to look at the pillow. A compress was on it.

Slowly he turned to face the girl. She was pressing her damp hair with a towel, gazing back at him impassively.

She hadn't changed her clothes from the club – a thin white dress with a low back, a little greyed from stains and smoke rubbed out, two strange cuffs on her upper arms like metal bands, and black hi-top sneakers. He couldn't recall if her hair had been loose last night, but it was now, long and damp and black.

"How do you feel?" she asked, laying the towel aside.

"I'm fine," he replied mechanically. "I don't think I saw you escaping that fire last night."

She sat on the edge of the bed, not touching him, and smiled ruefully. "I was in the alley, wondering if I could go. Then I heard the crashing."

"You dragged me out?" It seemed useless to even ask.

"It was foolish of you to go back for that girl," she scolded. "Heroic, but foolish."

"I'd do it again," he said quietly, and meant it. When he looked up, the girl's eyes bored into him. They seemed almost sorrowful.

"You would, wouldn't you?" She scraped her hands over her face and up through her hair, sniffing with exasperation. The gesture was so human it startled a laugh out of him.

"Your family. Did you think at all how they would feel if you didn't make it out?"

He sobered. "My family's safe. That's all that matters."

She stared at him, long and hard, as if she was searching the very depths of his being for something. He was surprised to find he didn't mind. Finally she stood. "Do you have a penny? Or a quarter? There's a payphone outside. You need to call your family. They must be worried."

A rotten feeling seized him hard. He flung the rest of the blanket out of the way, set his feet down. "Where's my wallet?"

She pointed to the nightstand. He snatched it up and spotted his sweater at the foot of the bed.

The girl got up as well. "You shouldn't go so fast – you hit your head pretty hard - "

Like a spell, the buzzing ache overtook him again. He resisted the urge to slump back into the bed and never move again. "I have to call them."

"Yeah, but not when you can barely stand." He saw his helplessness mirrored on her face. "Take it slow, okay?"

So he did, pulling his shoes on methodically, the motions calming. He stood up, his head unprotesting this time. But then he had to lean against the door, just as he managed to open it.