Requiem for a Soldier (Requiem #1)

Chapter 44: Exquisite

October 25

Ryan

I come into consciousness slowly, awareness returning to me in delayed flashes. I'm in bed. There is a pressure on my chest. I open my eyes to find that I'm lying in my own bed for the first time in months. Ana is lying next to me, her head on my shoulder and her arm across my chest.

What happened?

For a moment, I have no idea what events transpired to bring about our present nearness. As I stir, I realize I'm sick. More than just a cold. The flu? My head and body have a dull ache and I feel incredibly weak.

Ana moves in response to me shifting under her. She looks up at me and her hand rests on my forehead. I pull back a little in surprise. Why was she sleeping on me? Did something happen between us that I don't remember?

"Oh, you're really awake this time?" she asks, her eyes hopeful.

I just stare at her, confused. "What happened?"

She rolls over on her stomach and props herself up on her elbows.

"You don't remember? Do you remember getting sick?"

I narrow my eyes as I try to think. "No?"

She gives me a half-smile. "You've been unconscious for several days now." Her expression turns sad. "I wasn't sure you'd ever wake up. You had a really bad fever."

"Why?"

"Hypothermia and a secondary infection, the doctor said. Almost pneumonia."

"Doctor?"

"Oh, right." She looks almost guilty. "I'm really sorry, but I thought you were going to die. You wouldn't wake up, you were delirious and had hallucinations, and your fever was so high. I didn't know what else to do."

In her eyes I can see remnants of desperation and fear. "I went to Fairbanks and brought a doctor. I didn't tell him who you are and I made him promised he wouldn't tell anyone about either of us living here. I don't think he even cares who you are. Please don't be mad."

In any other circumstance, I think I'd be furious with her for bringing someone here. I'm not thrilled about it, but I can hardly bring myself to care about that now. And besides, what else was she supposed to do, watch me die? Most of all, I'm entirely distracted by her: the apologetic look on her face, her face so close to mine, her body pressing against me...

"You said hypothermia?" I grasp at anything else to distract me from how close she is and how much effort it takes to suppress these feelings inside.

"Yeah. Do you remember the storm? Falling in the river? How is your ankle, by the way?"

I fell in the river? No wonder I'm sick. Now I can vaguely remember almost freezing to death, shivering in wet clothes and being so, so scared. Not for me, but for her. If I'd died that night, or in the days following, what would she have done?

I look at her, healthy and safe. She rescued me. She came and found me out there. I can remember it now, fearing I'd be the reason she died in a blizzard less than a mile from safety, telling her to keep going without me. And her whisper in my ear...

I am not leaving you behind, Ryan Burke.

Unfortunately I also remember her insisting I take my shirt off. I glance down and realize I'm wearing a t-shirt with short sleeves. My damaged arm is bare. I move to slide it underneath the covers and realize the glove is missing. She's seen my mutilated hand. I tuck my arm out of sight. Has she seen everything now? All of my scars?