TLC's Journal (original) (raw)
I am running out of room on my phone, which is where claire sends this things, and I don't want to lose these epics, so I thought, what better place to put them than Tweetiepie, our little writing community? Posted with Claire's permission
( #1 Tremors, written by ClaireCollapse )
"Peter?" The faintest stir of singed eyelashes showed a glint of green, and Egon leaned forward anxiously. "Peter, don't try to speak."
The lashes dipped briefly an opened a little wider. He looked at Egon, keping his head still. His tongue flickered over his lips, and he pulled a disgusted face, then froze wwith a moan.
"Keep still. You were injured quite badly I'm afriad." Egon rested a hand on his shoulder. "The doctor will tell you the details, but--"
"What, worst?" Peter's voice was as scorched as the rest of him. Egon's eyes closed briefly, and he ducked his head before sternly pulling himself together.
"Your hands, Peter. No, do not attempt to look." He presed him down gently whe he would have tried to lift himself to see. "You don't need to see it."
The faintest dip of Peter's head acknowledged his words. "Don't lie to me, Peter. Please, do not attempt to move, or I will have you restrained."
"Kinky," Peter mouthed. His eyes flickered shut and Egon leaned further forward. He appeared to be sleeping again. The doctor had assured them that Peter wuold drift in and out forsomedays before he regained full consciouness,and he accepted that they knew best, but it was still hard to live through. Not as hard as-- he looked away from the bandaging on Peter's hands. He couldn't stop his gaze from settling there every time he let his thoughts wander. He didn't dare touch the right hand, the worst of the two. He shivered, the doctor's words still evoking chill horror. Amputation.
He couldn't touch Peter's hair either. Normallyhe could brush back the soft, unruly tendrils. It was one of the few demonstrative gestures he permitted himself. He sighed. Most of his hair was gone, scorched away, or shaved closely back to allow access to the second degree burns that spattered across his skull. His face too. There was only a small safe area rising up from his rigth cheekbone across to his left eye, where Peter's ruined hand had flown as the fire struck.
He dropped his head into his hands and sat quite still and silent.
"Egon?"
His head snapped up.
"Man, I;m sorry," Winston's face was sympathetic. "I thuoght you'd dropped off."
"No. I was quite awake." He shook himself. "How is Raymond?"
Winston half shrugged. "Awake. Healing. Asking for you."
Egon's eyes went to Peter.
"I know. And he understands, really he does." Winston hesitated. "I wonder if *you* do?"
"Me?" Egon asked frostily.
Winston half smiled. "Thught you did," he said with satisfaction. "So, why--"
Egon's eyes settled affectionately on Peter's silent body. "Because, really, why would I want to compete with the rollercoaster of inappropriate liaisons that is Peter's life?"
"I sometimes think all those girlfriends are just another way of hiding the real Peter Venkman."
"Of course they are." Egon murmured. "But it is his decision."
Winston looked as though he wanted to add something else, but said nothing.
"I'll visit Raymond this evening, I promise."
"Did Pete wake up?"
"Briefly. I doubt he will recall it later." Egon stood and stretched, rolling the kinks out of his back and neck. "Doctor Sullivan indicated that he might well rouse briefly several times before returning to full consciousness."
Winston nodded, and jerked his head back towards the door. "Sullivan said he was definitely off the critical list; he doesn't think they'll have to um, take his hand."
"That's good." Egon smiled briefly. "I will go to Raymond. If you wish to remain here I will meet you in an hour. I believe that a shower is necessary, for both of us." He met Winston's tired eyes. "We shuold try to get some sleep too."
Winston barked a short laugh. "Yeah. That's going to hapen. Egon--" he changed his mind and simply finished, "Sure, I'll be here when you get back."
I'm sorry, this was supposed to be smut, and turned into sugar. Passengers are advised that anyone travelling who is likely to require insulin should inject now.