Promises of a Sacrificial Lamb |Destiel x The Hunger Games|

-29-

The first thing I notice is how much it feels like there's cement in my lungs.  Then my stomach lurches, and a gush of water ejects itself from my mouth.  My eyelids snap open, heart hammers against my ribs, as the irrepressible need for oxygen to satisfy my burning chest makes me choke for air.  But there's still water lodged in my throat.  I can't stop my body from retching again, hacking up a spurt of the cold liquid.  I flop over onto my stomach, prop myself up with my trembling arms and knees, violently cough and hack up more and more water, gasp for that precious air, until I feel like the muscles in my abdomen have been beaten and torn to pieces.

When that initial terror of having my windpipe flooded with water slowly begins to subside, and when I can breathe somewhat properly again, that's when my other senses start to return.  I sit back on my feet.  Every part of me hurts.  My head and throat and chest, most of all.  For a fleeting moment, I don't remember what happened.  Why I'm in so much pain, why I blacked out, when I blacked out.  It's all a blur, but the terrifying memories of the muttations and the cliff and the raging river come racing back a lot quicker than I'd like it to.  Then how did I—

That's when I notice the hand clutching my arm with a deathlike grip.  My hearing warps back to normal, and the distraught sobbing becomes clear as a bell.

"Oh my God!  I thought you were dead!"  Cas cries, his shaking hands grabbing the sides of my face.  I can barely understand him.  He's completely soaked from head to toe, but it's impossible to miss the torrent of tears streaming down his cheeks.  "I thought you were dead!"

He starts to say something else, but his words are too garbled with sobs.  I don't even have a chance to calm him or ask him what happened before he throws his arms around my neck and practically collapses onto me.  He shudders with forceful cries and gags on broken breaths.

"You, you weren't breathing!"  he weeps.  I hold him tightly and let him talk, let him sob into my shoulder, no matter how much it pains me to see him so distressed.  "And, and your heart stopped!  I was so scared!  I, I didn't know what to do!  I thought you were dead!"

His fingers curl around the fabric of my drenched shirt as a woeful cry rattles in his throat, cutting off his strained and grieved voice.  I don't know what else to do other than tighten my arms around his trembling body and try to ease his anguish.  I wasn't breathing?  And my heart really stopped?  That's unsettling.  For how long, I wonder?  I can't even imagine how terrified he must've been.  It sounds to me like I should be dead after what happened.  But the thought of that is gut-wrenching, so I try to push it out of my frenzied mind and focus on calming Cas down. I'm alive, somehow.  He is, too, and that's all that matters.

Gently, I shush him, tell him it's okay, stroke his hair, cradle his head, rub his back, and I don't stop until his violent sobs begin to fade into weak and tired snivels and whimpers.  Still, he doesn't loosen his grip on me, not for another long while.  When he eventually coughs and draws an unsteady breath, and when he slumps back to sit on his feet, I see just how red and puffy his eyes are, just how defeated and despairing he looks.  My heart shatters.  Do I even want to know what happened while I was unconscious if it tormented him this much?

A part of me wants to stay in the unknown, but my curiosity takes over before I can stifle it.  I bring my thumb to Cas' blotchy cheek and delicately wipe away the stream of tears.  "Do you want to tell me what happened?"  I ask softly.  It takes a moment for my voice to function normally again, no doubt from the water that tried to make its home in my windpipe.

Cas is quick to shake his head, his lip quivering and his eyes squeezed shut.  Another tear trickles down his face.  "Not now,"  he whimpers.  "I'm sorry."