"Oh God," the woman gasped, between bubbling sobs. "Am I dying? I'm going to die."
Immediately he set aside his pistol and took her hand in his, forcing his voice to be calm. "Keep looking at me," he insisted, meeting her frightened eyes with his own. Hers were grey and bright, almost wild, all whites and little in the way of pupil as adrenaline tried to keep her alive despite the blood loss. "It's alright. It's alright. Look. Look at me. Keep looking at me. It's alright. It'll slide over you. It'll start to feel warm. Nice and warm. It'll move over you. It's alright."
Her gaze seemed to center on him at last, her eyes meeting his, still in the haze of trauma and pain, but verging back into humanity.
"Let your thoughts go," he told her. "Hold the good things. Hold the good things, yeah? Who do you love? Who do you love, Sparkle?"
"My boy, Joseph," she murmured, her words little more than a cough filled with blood.
"Is he your son?" he pushed, thinking of his own child, safe in Vault 101.
"Yes," she agreed, her pupils beginning to dilate.
"Let him take it then," he insisted. "Let him take it." A spasm ran through her as the fear began to fade, her gaze starting to drift slightly. "It's okay. It's okay."
She just nodded before that last shuddering breath escaped her. Her neck relaxed, head eyes fully dilated, and she died there in his arms, making his heart ache with sudden agony, reminding him of so many others. Madison had told him he was too sensitive about things like death... That it made him soft... made him willing to throw away so much work over an imbalance of hormones. Maybe it made him soft, but he doubted he could ever be as hard-hearted as she had become.
James looked up from the old woman's body as the dogs howled, hidden somewhere over the crest of the nearest hill. He said a brief prayer over her body before grabbing her rifle, glancing around him for signs of the animals, and preparing to cross the bridge so he could venture underground and into D.C. proper.
Moon Rise - Ch 2b/8
Immediately he set aside his pistol and took her hand in his, forcing his voice to be calm. "Keep looking at me," he insisted, meeting her frightened eyes with his own. Hers were grey and bright, almost wild, all whites and little in the way of pupil as adrenaline tried to keep her alive despite the blood loss. "It's alright. It's alright. Look. Look at me. Keep looking at me. It's alright. It'll slide over you. It'll start to feel warm. Nice and warm. It'll move over you. It's alright."
Her gaze seemed to center on him at last, her eyes meeting his, still in the haze of trauma and pain, but verging back into humanity.
"Let your thoughts go," he told her. "Hold the good things. Hold the good things, yeah? Who do you love? Who do you love, Sparkle?"
"My boy, Joseph," she murmured, her words little more than a cough filled with blood.
"Is he your son?" he pushed, thinking of his own child, safe in Vault 101.
"Yes," she agreed, her pupils beginning to dilate.
"Let him take it then," he insisted. "Let him take it." A spasm ran through her as the fear began to fade, her gaze starting to drift slightly. "It's okay. It's okay."
She just nodded before that last shuddering breath escaped her. Her neck relaxed, head eyes fully dilated, and she died there in his arms, making his heart ache with sudden agony, reminding him of so many others. Madison had told him he was too sensitive about things like death... That it made him soft... made him willing to throw away so much work over an imbalance of hormones. Maybe it made him soft, but he doubted he could ever be as hard-hearted as she had become.
James looked up from the old woman's body as the dogs howled, hidden somewhere over the crest of the nearest hill. He said a brief prayer over her body before grabbing her rifle, glancing around him for signs of the animals, and preparing to cross the bridge so he could venture underground and into D.C. proper.