Dark Waters Rising

Stew

When Wesley woke up, he felt alive again. He couldn't remember the last time he had slept so well, or so long. Judging by the pattern of sunlight streaming in through the windows, it was nearing sundown. It was unlike him to sleep through the entire day, but he had.

Turning his attention to the warmth at his side, Wesley found Valentine almost exactly as he'd left him. The arm draped over his torso was clutching him as if he'd disappear. It was aided by one of Valentine's legs weighing down his own. Wesley couldn't even really move his head because the pirate had nestled his forehead into the crook of his neck. Valentine's slow exhales swept across the base of Wesley's throat, but he didn't mind. It was a soothing reassurance that the man was alive—that the resurrection hadn't just been a hopeful dream.

Wesley debated for a while on whether or not he would get up or just go back to sleep, but there were two factors that convinced him to do the former. Firstly was that his arm had gone numb. Valentine was laying on it just right to cut off some of the circulation. Secondly was the reminder of how unhealthily thin the man had become in their time apart. He was practically skin and bones now. Wesley remembered when they had first met, the pirate had been so tall and muscular it made him feel small by comparison. Now Wesley barely noticed the weight of Valentine's arm. He did notice the concavity of his stomach though, and the protrusion of his ribs.

With those thoughts in mind, Wesley pried himself from Valentine's hold in order to make the pirate something to eat.

Luckily Valentine didn't wake up as Wesley made his escape.

Rubbing the sleep from his face, Wesley looked back down at Valentine and assessed his options. After a moment of thought, he decided a nice pork stew would probably be best for reintroducing him to the world of eating regularly. He knew from experience that too much food at once would probably be rejected by his underused stomach. It would be important to build up his meals gradually. Stew would be a good start for getting something into his system, even if he could only stomach a little.

Realizing he would need some fresh water to cook with, Wesley picked up the bucket of soiled water he had used to clean Valentine up the night before and carried it outside. He dumped the murky contents out on the ground as he walked out to the well.

It didn't take long for him to get what he needed.

As he cranked up a new bucket of clean water, Wesley's eyes were drawn to the site of the resurrection not far away. It was a complete mess. The earth was all upturned and Andromeda's candles and tomes were still scattered about. Wesley made a mental reminder to clean it up the next day so that on the off chance someone wandered into their area, they wouldn't start making any unwanted assumptions. Luckily, the cottage was pretty secluded though, so the chances were slim.

Wesley gripped the full bucket's handle tightly and started to haul it back. He was just rounding the corner to the front of the cabin when he noticed a shaky figure clutching the door frame for balance. Worry immediately overtook him as he set down the bucket and rushed forward.

Valentine stepped out toward the merchant only for his legs to fail. Wesley caught him in a warm embrace before he could hit the ground.

"What are you doing?" he asked. "You're supposed to be resting!"

"I-I woke up and you weren't there and I thought you were dead or hurt or- or-"

Wesley realized Valentine was sobbing, so he simply held the man tighter as he cried into his shoulder. Valentine's fingers were bunched into the merchant's shirt with a white knuckle grip. It was a silent plea for him to stay exactly where he was, and Wesley obliged.

"It's okay," Wesley soothed, rubbing circles on his back. "I'm okay. I just went to go get some water."

Valentine's sobs didn't let up for a while. Wesley just stood patiently and held him, whispering small reassurances in his ear.

"I'm sorry," Valentine whispered with a thick voice when he had finally calmed down enough to speak.

"Don't be," Wesley said. He had to admit, he never imagined he would ever see Valentine so vulnerable. It was heartbreaking to witness, but Wesley recognized it bringing out a side of him he hadn't seen since he lost his sister. Valentine was sick. He was in pain. Much like she had been. And once again, Wesley felt an overwhelming need to make it go away. In the end, he couldn't help Waverly, but perhaps with Valentine, he wasn't so powerless.

Deciding to change the subject since Valentine hadn't responded, Wesley softly asked, "Are you hungry?"

Valentine inhaled sharply.

"Please don't feed me," he sounded desperate, terrified even. That confused Wesley.

"Val, you need to eat."

"Please, no." Tears neither of them knew he had left started spilling from his eyes.

"Why not?" Wesley asked.

"Bad things happen when I eat," he said, closing his eyes tightly and hiding his face in Wesley's neck. He could feel the moisture of Val's tears between their skin.

"I don't understand," he was so worried. "You need to eat, Val. You're wasting away."

"I can't," he said with some difficulty, "I can't do it."

Wesley eased him gently out of his hiding spot so he could look at his face. He softly wiped away the many tears rolling down the man's cheeks with the pads of his thumbs. His own eyes were glassy with unshed tears.

"Please, Val. I can't lose you again," he said, pressing their foreheads together lightly. "Is there anything you can eat? Anything at all?"

Valentine licked his chapped lips, eyes closed as he inhaled Wesley's natural scent. It was calming to him, and he focused all his attention toward it to try to push his panic away.

"Please. . . no meat," he whispered after a while, his voice cracking.

"Okay," Wesley agreed, "No meat."

Valentine relaxed a bit.

"Will you eat vegetables? Fruit?" Wesley asked softly.

Slowly, Valentine nodded. "I'll try."

"Fish?" he prodded further, knowing something that was a part of the siren's natural diet would be better for him in the long run. "Is fish okay?"

Thankfully, Valentine nodded again.

"Okay," Wesley breathed the word. He could work with that. He remembered seeing onions, carrots, and cabbage inside. For now, he would just make some stew out of that. He'd have to go to the market in the morning to get some fish so Val could get something substantial into his system, but that could wait.

With his mind made up, Wesley easily swept Valentine into his arms and carried him back inside. He was so light, Wesley didn't even struggle as he walked to the cot and placed him down on it. He went back for the bucket of water, and not long after had their dinner heating over the hearth.

Valentine watched him closely the whole time from where he sat, but luckily did not try to get up again.

A while later, Wesley managed to coax a decent amount of vegetable broth past Valentine's lips. It was less than he would've liked to see, but when Valentine started to refuse the offered liquid, Wesley took his word for it and quickly ate his own share before crawling back into the cot beside the pirate.

"Promise not to leave again?" Valentine asked softly, sad yet hopeful lilac irises pleaded up at him.

"I promise," Wesley told him, pulling him closer.

Valentine tucked his head under Wesley's chin, softly exhaling in contentment as he closed his eyes.

Wesley closed his eyes too, but he didn't fall asleep for a long time. All he could think about was what horrors Valentine had endured in Hell. The possibilities his mind conjured made it impossible to sleep.

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A/N

Whoops. Forgot what day it was. Sorry for the delay!

If you controlled what the next story I wrote was, what would you have it be about?

Also why do you think Valentine freaked out at the prospect of eating?

See you Wednesday,
-Mora Montgomery