Work Text:
It’s been three days. Three days since Sara felt like she could finally breathe again.
Julie’s still sleeping most of the time, unable to stay focused for longer than half of an hour at best, before exhaustion drains her and her eyes fall shut mid-word.
She doesn’t remember – Sara considers that a blessing for now.
She recalls names and faces, dates and places. Her words come out slow and with long-stretched pauses in between, but at least she still knows who she is.
Sara’s been sitting in the same plastic chair for hours now, waiting for Julie to re-emerge from her current slumber. The changes are miniscule, but Sara takes note of them all: Her face in sleep looks more at peace than it did throughout the agonizing weeks prior, her skin has a faint tint of pink instead of the ashen complexion it bore before, her breathing comes out just as regular and stable, yet somehow each drag of air seems just a tad longer, just this much deeper, than the controlled in and out Sara has spent weeks memorizing.
Most prominent of all is the change behind Julie’s closed eyes. Her lids flutter in the lightness of her sleep, eyes moving behind them, presumably lost in hazy dreams. Before, they’d been so still that Sara had to keep a steady hold on Julie’s hand to feel her warmth, just to reassure herself there was still life coursing through her veins.
Sara remembers it all in vivid detail. Every imagined twitch and misleading breeze that set faint hair to move – fooling Sara into hoping today would be the day.
Those days are over now, still Sara is haunted by the painful memories.
A soft groan startles her, making her look up from where their hands are firmly clasped beside the blanket. Julie stirs, for real, and whimpers under her breath.
Sara’s free hand reaches out to gently brush a golden curl from her forehead, the backs of her fingers grazing over a warm cheek as she shushes Julie back to sleep.
She takes the blanket in her hands and tugs it carefully around Julie’s still form, then drops a kiss to the crown of her head. When Julie calms she dares to take another breath and sinks down onto the familiar hardness of her chair again, taking Julie’s hand.