[This Raleigh sighing, more to himself than to her, and hitting the call button with his knuckle because she has to sleep. She needs to rest if she's going to get better and he will ask the nurse for something to help her sleep, watch him.]
How many times do I have to tell you that we can't do anything tonight? You're not going to help her by making yourself worse.
[He's glaring back at her. He's not mad at her, he's really not, he doesn't blame her for anything but he's tired and maybe he wants to sleep a little himself (in the chair, whatever) and how's he going to do that when he has to keep an eye on her.]
[ Mako pulls back; how is she to rest when she can't bring herself to, that worry roils in her mind like a plague, weighing her down with every moment that she thinks of her obscenely empty womb -- a child taken too early.
Her hands move to it, the pain blunted but keenly felt, even through the painkillers -- she grits, but doesn't say a thing. The pain, like the anger, keeps her focused. So instead of picking a fight with her husband, she says instead: ]
[That's why he was calling the nurse. Raleigh watches her hand for a moment. She's too flat, even he can tell that. Something's wrong and she wasn't even that big, she thinks she whales up when she gets pregnant but he doesn't see it the same way. She's beautiful and it's all wrong now.]
[ Yes, she is. It's a jarring, unpleasant reminder of what just happened -- it's wrong, it's unnatural and the trauma behind it is awful. It's a beautiful thing gone so wrong and Mako doesn't know how to begin to fix it.
She sighs, and turns away from him on her side, aching and trying not to cry. ] I'll sleep. Promise we'll see Nicki tomorrow?
[That little gesture hurts more than any of the bruises and cuts he's sporting from his retaliation earlier. More than the gnawing worry about their daughter and the sickening fear that he was going to lose Mako too because as awful as that would be, to lose her, Mako's never turned away from him before.
He's quiet, letting it happen because she's agreed to sleep and he wants that desperately, more than he wants to make everything better right now because he can't and he would never lie to her.]
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How many times do I have to tell you that we can't do anything tonight? You're not going to help her by making yourself worse.
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Not yet. Don't call the nurse.
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[He's glaring back at her. He's not mad at her, he's really not, he doesn't blame her for anything but he's tired and maybe he wants to sleep a little himself (in the chair, whatever) and how's he going to do that when he has to keep an eye on her.]
You've done everything you can.
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Her hands move to it, the pain blunted but keenly felt, even through the painkillers -- she grits, but doesn't say a thing. The pain, like the anger, keeps her focused. So instead of picking a fight with her husband, she says instead: ]
...You look tired, Raleigh. Why don't you rest?
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I can't. If I know you aren't.
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She sighs, and turns away from him on her side, aching and trying not to cry. ] I'll sleep. Promise we'll see Nicki tomorrow?
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He's quiet, letting it happen because she's agreed to sleep and he wants that desperately, more than he wants to make everything better right now because he can't and he would never lie to her.]
I promise. First chance they let us.