the_lioness | (no subject)

(no subject)

*Alanna sits on one of George's trunks, her chin in her hands, eyes trained on the bed. Indy is still sleeping. It has been several hours since she pried open George's shutters and climbed into the room. After some debate, she had left the window open, but the air still feels stagnant. She sighs softly, no closer to a decision on how to tell Indy than she had been when she first arrived.

You would think that after all the times people came to her with similar news she would have some idea of what to say. But no, her mind is blank. So she watches him, both dreading and waiting impatiently for the moment when Indy awakes.*

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And for a long while there's nothing more than the languid rise and fall of the man's chest. His restive breaths are quiet and easy, but his complexion is still sallowed from the drug and traced with deep frown lines. It usually is when he sleeps alone. Occasional soporific twitches only intensify the expression.

Not quite untroubled... but far away.

*Alanna taps her foot and chews anxiously on her thumb. Eventually she stands, pouring herself some wine and pacing back and forth.*

Goddess, I just want to get this over with... *Closing her eyes, she stands still for a moment. Why won't he wake up?*

Indy? *She says it softly, annoyed when her voice breaks.*

A rumble of displeasure. Then nothing. The bed clothes stir and there are several disgruntled snorts. Finally, a more forceful groan, and after a few more excruciating moments, a crusted eye chinks open reluctantly.

It scrunches shut again in the soft daylight. Momentary blinding pain. A pounding in his temples that builds as his senses kick in and adjust.

*Alanna stops breathing for a moment, almost hoping he will roll over and go back to sleep. She crosses to the bed and thrusts her glass of wine under his nose.*

Here. Drink some.

The smell of the fermented fruit causes a reflex gag. He jerks his head away from the glass and flails a hand helplessly.

"...'lana?" he croaks, battling a spinning room as he cracks his eyes again. "Wha...uh?"

*She swallows, setting the wine down on a table and clutching his hand as she slowly sits down at the foot of the bed. Squeezing his hand once, she lets it fall and sits back, resting her head against the wall.*

Indy... what happened after I left the Throne Room?

Still squinting against the disorientation, he shifts himself up the bed a little, propping himself up on his elbows. He finally begins to recognize the chamber as the one where he'd changed into the disguise... an undeterminable time ago.

"Alanna... I've little idea where I am, why I'm here or how long it's been..." he protests weakly, trying to sort through fogged memories.

For what it's worth, the wine served it's purpose as a rousing agent, though possibly not as intended. He rubs annoyedly at his nose in an attempt to extricate the nauseating odor.

Indy. Focus. *Her tone is sharper than intended, and Alanna winces.* I'm sorry. You don't remember anything? Please... try.

He does, and the strain is apparent. "She left, you left... we went to visit her."

You did? *Alanna tilts her head, wishing she could comfort him, but not knowing how. That strained look is about to get a whole lot worse.* Did you speak with her?

"There were guards." He shakes his head, trying to clear the haze. "They wouldn't let us through."

"I... wasn't very happy."

He rubs his forehead and grimaces. "That's... all I remember."

*Alanna leans back again, looking up at the ceiling. Running her tongue over her teeth, she absently eyes a cobweb in the corner with some trepidation. Stupid spiders.

Indy didn't remember.*

You weren't happy. You probably got a little violent. *She pauses, thinking this through. Her eye lands on a bottle of brandy, and she drops her head into her hands with a groan.* Oh, George.

Indy... it has been over a day since the trial. I'm guessing you slept so long because George drugged you to keep you calm. When Rispah said George carried you in... I thought maybe you had passed out from drink.

"No. I'd remember that."

He wrinkles his nose. "Drugged me huh? Didn't see that comin'..." a glance around the room, taking in his predicament, "...obviously."

"He's a wily one, your friend. Heh. I like him." A knowing little chuckle.

He is, yes. He drugged me the day of my Ordeal. Apparently he thought I needed sleep or some such nonsense.

*She smiles ruefully, her hand gripping a corner of the blanket. The smile fades, and she rubs her forehead.*

His brow furrows slightly. "It was a good result, really. I appreciate everything you did for her."

He places a hand over hers.

"Can you get me in to see her today?"

Indy... Shit, shit, shit. What to say. Goddess... *She turns her head and curses.* I went to the palace this morning... talked to Raoul... *Eyes tearing up, she makes an almost frantic gesture.* I don't know how to say this, they don't tell you how... I'm not bloody trained for such things.

*She takes a deep breath and gives him a level look. Or tries to, anyway.*

Delia's dead.

It takes a moment. There's fear building at her hesitancy. But that's not right. "No she's not."

He continues to watch her desperation incredulously, a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach. There had already been a sense of emptiness lingering... from somewhere. He hadn't paid it much heed.

"What're you talkin' about? I was there. I saw her leave."

Yes. Yes, she is. Raoul would never lie to me. Ever. *Alanna pulls herself upright again, pacing beside the bed.* Yes, we all saw her leave. Indy... when Jon told me about the arrest, he said that Delia wanted to die. In no uncertain terms.

*She stops, dropping into a crouch and rubbing her eyes furiously.*

I just... why didn't she wait?

Uncertain eyes passing through an array of emotions: disbelief, denial, wavering and seeking something from her expression, anything to make it not so. Seeking confirmation. And it's there. The words sink in, and as much as he fights them, they bring the truth with them.

A dark reality descending and settling and crushing and Goddamn it hurts. Balling fists and tightening lungs. A strangled noise from the back of his throat. His mouth had already been insufferably dry. Can't breathe... And now there's an oppressive weight pushing at his chest.

Despair. Vague contentment instantly gone, hope stripped. Everything falling away from heart and mind. Lost and out of control.

Tortured eyes in an ashen face, struggling against the pain. Gone. A trembling hand gripping the top sheet and tearing it back. By her own hand. Shutters clattering back as he lurches to the window and leans out, gasping for air, choking back the gall.

*Alanna can't seem to do anything but watch him. She swipes at hot, frustrated tears and curses the futility of it all. Always one step behind, never where I needed to be... Her eyes slide closed again, and she sinks all the way to the floor with a thud.*

For what it's worth, Indy, I'm truly sorry. I never, ever... why? I just don't understand. She had to know.

*She stares at the window.* I wouldn't have let her rot there, whatever our history. Not forever.

Shivering hands grip the sill as burning tears streak his own contorted cheeks. Anguished and trying to get control of his breath, he stares out over the rooftops—not seeing. "No..."

*Alanna runs a hand through her hair, watching him. She stands, pouring herself more wine and him some brandy. She sips the wine as she crosses the room, slowly extending her arm.*

Indy... drink something. Please?

*She says this plaintively, her eyes a little bit wild.* I don't know what to say anymore.

Indy's knees buckle and he leans more heavily on the window ledge. He doesn't want her to see this. Destroyed. It's not her fault. But closing his eyes doesn't make it go away. For the moment, her offer is ignored.

"You don't... have to say... anything," he manages to stammer breathlessly. A hard swallow. "Just... don't leave me."

*Alanna glances down at the floor, finishing her wine and most of the brandy for good measure. She makes a face. Shifting both glasses to one hand, she rubs his back and stares out the window.

Sounds from the busy tavern below drift up through the open kitchen window, and Alanna sighs. It is never easy to hear people laughing when you feel like your whole world is collapsing about your ears. Worried, she looks at Indy.*

He turns and reveals his tormented face. Blood spots his lip as he tries to bite back further tears with little success. A step and he has her in his arms, a fierce embrace at first, with renewed agony evident. And that's all. All he wants or needs at this moment.

The shaking grief eventually subsides and his grip relaxes. But it's a dejected slump that results, and not a resigned sniff or a resolved steeling of himself.

He mumbles something into her hair as new tears being to tumble uncontrollably. "I never got to say good bye... or tell her that I love her."

"I never told her that. She didn't know."

*Despite an instinctual urge to stiffen, Alanna relaxes and tries not to cry. She continues to rub his back, standing on her toes so she can hug him tightly.*

She knew, Indy. How could she not?

"But she never heard it..."

He was prepared. Then all that became irrelevant. Now, suddenly, she's lost to him, and everything he'd planned to say, every nice sentiment and gesture he'd wanted to end things with, all just hang uselessly in his head.

That doesn't change the way you looked at her. *Alanna bites her lip, hating to use the past tense of the word.* I didn't want to see it, but I did. I'm sure it was readily apparent to someone hopefully looking for it.

"I just don't understand why..."

"We could have got her out. Bernard damn nigh offered to break her out himself. Raph n' Mike n' Mel would have helped. We could have figured something out," he maunders.

"Just... why?"

*Alanna does stiffen now, pulling away.*

I know. I know. I spoke of it myself to Adam this morning. I just never thought she would do something so bloody stupid. Delia was a sharp woman. Why didn't she realize? She knows how I feel about freedom...

*Alanna looks up at him and shakes her head.*

I do not have an answer for you. It makes no sense to me.

And he didn't expect an answer either. "It's ok..."

He turns away with a spiritless sigh. He doesn't want to ask, but he has to know. "How'd she do it?"

Raoul didn't say much. He mentioned... *She grimaces.* He mentioned a homemade noose. There's usually a window in the cells where the nobles stay... Goddess.

*She stomps back to the wine, cursing.*

Another sigh, terminating in a light coughing fit. He finally takes up a glass and remedies things with the brandy.

"I'm sorry to keep putting you on the spot... but... what of her body?"

He doesn't expect any ceremony for a convicted traitor. Neither does he want to see her that way. He loved her color and bubbliness, her vivaciousness. He doesn't even want to picture her cold and lifeless.

I don't know. *She pauses, running a finger around the rim of her wine glass.* I imagine her father and brother will take her back to Eldorne with them.

I took Thom to Trebond. *Her eyes fill again, and she looks away.*

He paces around the room a little, numb now, and finally seats himself on the end of the bed. His head hangs low as he holds out a hand of comfort for her.

"I... don't know what to do."

*She takes his hand and sits down beside him, exhausted and yet entirely awake. It is an odd sensation.*

I think the only thing you can do is return to Milliways and... *She shrugs, trailing off.*

"...be with people? Tell them and share the sorrow?" He cups his forehead and frowns. "No. I just need to be alone for a while."

Maybe she can suggest somewhere outside the City.

You have to go back. I can't leave you here.

*She scuffs her boot against the floor.*

I was hoping you would tell Josiane for me. She might attack me with her axe again if I'm the one to say the words.

"Shit! Josiane..." he groans. "I can't..."

The hand on his forehead grinds in harder for a few seconds. Then he raises his head, slowly and curiously. "Josiane is dead. So's your brother..." His eyes narrow. "Aren't there others from your world who found the bar from the afterlife? Um... that guy... Alex?"

*Alanna's eye twitches.*

Yes. There are several. Some remember the Black God's realm, some don't. None of them know how they got there.

It's not much. But a glimmer of hope returns.

He nods with resolution and wipes his face with his forearm. "I'll go. Maybe she'll..." A breath. "Just... maybe."

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