Sixty-Two (Amy); So Close... So Very Close...
I open my eyes, shivering, suddenly cold. The room is dark, curtains pulled against the orange haze of London. I start to sit up, but am pushed (albeit gently) back down again.
"Stay still," a terse, almost worried voice comands. The voice almost makes my heart stop.
"Da-"
"Be quiet." He snaps. I sigh and shut my eyes. "You feeling better?" he asks. I would shrug, but I'm at a bit of a disadvantage, being laid out and all.
"Yeah." I use the sort of tone that generally accompanies a shrug; it's the best I can do.
"Don't go fucking passing out on me again, alright?" Danny snaps. I'm not sure whether he's angry at me, or worried.
"I'll try not to." I say sarcastically. "What time is it?" I'm tired, and rather hungry.
"About ten, eleven," comes the dismissive reply.
"Look, you obviously want to be anywhere else but here," I bitch, starting to sit up again. "So why don't you just fuck off and-"
"I told you to stay still!" A firm, yet oddly gentle hand takes my shoulder. Another pulls the pillows out from underneath me and put them behind me. "Do as you're fucking well told Amy." Less of an edge than usual. "You scared Roth and the others half to death collapsing like that. Don't tell people you're fine when you're not!" he adds. "I'm not having you causing yourself any more danage, got me?" He gently pulls my head around so I have to look at him. I don't think either of us can see one hundred percent well in the darkness of the room, but a note of understanding passes between us. "You should sleep." He advises softly, his thumb stroking my cheek. "You're tired." He rises slowly, and suddenly I'm desperate for him not to go.
"Danny--"
"You should sleep." He repeats, his voice sounding strained suddenly. I don't know what's wrong, why he's acting so - so - nervy, like he can't risk being around me for too long.
"I'm not tired," I lie. Danny brushes the curtain as he passes, knocking it open a little. He looks at me, and the streetlamp coming through the gap in the curtains dapples across his angled features. It almost seems like he's too angled, and I briefly ponder whether or not he's been eating properly. A crooked smirk slowly appears on his lips.
"Don't lie to me Amy," he says, walking slowly over to me, "it doesn't work." he reaches down and brushes some of my hair from my cheek. "I'll be back in the morning." his voice suddenly has the strained note in it again, and I want to grab his hand, kiss the long, elegant, talented fingers again, make him stay, stop him from leaving... But I don't quite know how to. He straightens up, giving the crooked little smile again as he turns and walks out of my room, closing the door quietly behind him.
Chapter 61 ; Contents ; Chapter 63
