Safe Haven - Part 10
May. 1st, 2008 03:28 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
diandrahollman
E-Mail: diandrahollman@yahoo.com
Website: http://diandrahollman.tripod.com/index.h
Rating: PG-13 to R for language and violence.
Keywords: Crossover, Alias/X-Files/Lost, slash, Vaughn/Mulder, Jack, hurt/comfort, angst
Spoilers: Only if you never watched season 5 of Alias or any season of Lost.
Disclaimer: All characters from The X-Files belong to Chris Carter and 1013. All other non-original characters belong to JJ Abrams and Bad Robot. I will put most of them back when I'm done with them, but I can't make any promises about Vaughn. Nabin was an actual character in Season 5 (Sydney's monk contact) but Neerav is mine.
Author's Notes: See first chapter.
Previously
************
I climbed from the yak wearily. After a long flight on a CIA plane - accompanied only by the emotionally closed off Jack Bristow - and a nearly equally long ride through the mountains of Nepal I was exhausted. But the knowledge that Vaughn was waiting for me inside that hut in the middle of nowhere gave me a second wind.
I was greeted by a monk who introduced himself as Brother Nabin and who spoke surprisingly fluent English, though he seemed to be the only one. "Brother Neerav is changing his bandages," he said as he led me deeper into the hut, past a room with high-tech medical and exercise equipment that appeared totally out of sync with their surroundings. "I must warn you he still has much healing ahead of him. He may not be aware of your presence."
"I don't care. I want to see him."
The man smiled. "I expected as much. Agent Bristow told me you are very close to him."
I refrained from comment. We turned a corner and my breath stalled. Vaughn lay on a low cot, a machine monitoring his vitals behind his head next to an IV stand, his face drawn in pain as "Brother Neerav" worked on him, his body blocking my view of Vaughn's injuries. I felt lightheaded. Two days ago I had listened to Sydney give a tearful eulogy at Vaughn's funeral and we had leaned on each other for support, watching with the rest of his friends and coworkers as his coffin was lowered into the ground. Only the two of us knew that it was empty except for a few concrete blocks. But even though I knew he was alive, actually seeing him now felt surreal. I was afraid I would wake up and discover that all of this was a figment of my imagination - that Vaughn was really dead.
I stepped closer, feeling my gut twist in sympathy as I got a better view. His chest was a mess of ragged bullet wounds, which the monk was in the process of diligently covering with fresh bandages. His breathing was shallow, his pale face dotted with sweat that shimmered in the light of the fire in the pit at the center of the room. The monk gently prodded at a particularly ugly wound and Vaughn whimpered softly between labored breaths. No, this was no dream. I would never imagine Vaughn suffering like this.
I knelt at his side, opposite the monk, and gathered his hand in mine. "Vaughn," I called softly.
Vaughn's eyes fluttered open, dull and glazed, struggling to focus on my face. His mouth moved soundlessly, forming my name.
I leaned in to kiss his dry, chapped lips, careful not to disturb the man working on him. "Yeah, baby, it's me. I'm here," I whispered. I pressed another kiss to his forehead and felt him squeeze my hand feebly.
Nabin returned as Neerav finished the bandages, a wooden bowl in his hands. He knelt by Vaughn's head and pressed a gentle hand to his forehead, speaking to him in his native language. Vaughn's lips parted in response and the monk slipped his hand beneath his neck, lifting his head and helping him drink. I watched quietly as he slowly drained the bowl. The monk smiled as he returned Vaughn's head to the pillow and handed the empty bowl to his "brother", who handed him a syringe filled with clear fluid from his tray of supplies and left without a word.
"This will ease the pain," Nabin explained to me as he injected the contents of the syringe into Vaughn's IV. "And it will help him sleep."
I nodded, my throat feeling constricted, my mouth dry. Nabin continued to speak to Vaughn in his native language as he tucked a thick blanket around him. I kissed Vaughn's knuckles and stroked his hand as he gradually slipped into unconsciousness.
"He has spoken your name often," Nabin said. "He will be glad to see you have come."
I smiled weakly and nodded. Somehow I doubted he would be thrilled to find that I had abandoned everything to go into hiding with him. He would probably take it as a sign that he had failed to protect me from the insanity that had become his world. But I didn't care. I knew now that I would go anywhere - do anything - to be with him.
*********
I spent the next days and weeks helping the monks care for Vaughn. I learned that the hut was a sort of safehouse known to only a handful of CIA agents, namely Jack Bristow and his daughter, kept well stocked with medical supplies for just such an occasion. I learned that "Neerav" was a Hindu word for "silent", a name Nabin told me had been given to the other monk as nobody had ever heard him speak. I also learned that in one of Vaughn's less coherent moments he had mistaken Nabin for me and declared his love for me.
"I think your love for him is what has given him the strength to survive this," he told me one day as I finished bathing Vaughn.
I smiled and dried him with a soft cloth, gently maneuvering his unresponsive body, being careful of the scattered bandages on his chest. "He's stubborn. I'm sure as soon as he realizes I'm here he'll be threatening to kick my ass."
Nabin chuckled. "He will understand. You have made great sacrifices to be here with him."
I finished and sat back so Nabin could reattach the monitoring sensors to Vaughn, replacing the tape holding the IV in place at his elbow. "He'll think they're too great," I said.
Nabin just smiled. "For love, no sacrifice is too great."
A weak smile tugged at my lips. He was right, I realized. I hoped Vaughn would see it that way too...eventually.
********
It was nearly a month after I arrived when Vaughn finally looked at me with full awareness.
"Hey baby," I said gently, smiling down at him.
He stared at me, his mouth working silently, his forehead creasing into an intricate maze. "What..."
I winced at the weak, pained sound and squeezed his hand as that one word caused him to cough lightly. He squeezed back, his eyes glazing as pain washed over him.
"Easy," I whispered, soothing his forehead with my free hand. "Shh...take it easy. Try to relax."
A thready moan escaped him. I swallowed against the lump forming in my throat and bent to kiss his forehead. "It's okay," I murmured, more for my benefit than his. "You're going to be okay."
I jumped as a gentle hand touched my shoulder and turned to see Brother Nabin standing beside me, a bowl in his other hand. He smiled and addressed Vaughn in Nepalese. Vaughn nodded silently and the monk moved to his side, gently lifting his head and tipping the bowl to his lips.
"Water," Nabin explained to me with a kind smile.
I nodded and watched Vaughn drain half the bowl, pained lines forming around his lips as Nabin lowered his head back to the pillow.
"You have been shot," Nabin said, obviously speaking in English for my benefit and not Vaughn's. "Do you remember?"
He nodded tightly.
"Good," Nabin smiled.
"What are you doing here," Vaughn demanded, his voice rough, pain-glazed eyes boring into me.
My first instinct was to make a joke about him trying to ditch me but I didn't think he would appreciate it at that moment. "Sydney didn't think it was safe for me to stay."
A spark of anger flashed in his eyes. "Why wouldn't..."
"Jack Shephard's dead. So's his father. Sydney thinks Prophet 5 may be responsible."
Vaughn's face went pale, his eyes registering a different sort of pain. "No..."
"It's not your fault," I added quickly. "He didn't have to help you escape the hospital. That was his decision."
"I owed him my life," Vaughn argued, his voice weak. "I should have protected him..."
"It was a plane crash. There was nothing you could have done," I soothed.
Vaughn closed his eyes and shook his head. It didn't matter. He would still blame himself. "I'm sorry," he whispered. "I didn't want to drag you into this..."
"Hey," I cut in, squeezing his hand and waiting for his eyes to meet mine. "Don't. I love you. We're in this together whether you like it or not."
"It's not safe," he argued.
"I don't care," I said firmly. "I'm not letting you go through this alone. I was willing to stay away as long as I thought it would keep you safe but I won't do it anymore."
"I ca..." he broke off with a weak cough, wincing as his abused lungs no doubt screamed in agony. "I can't lose you too," he forced out between pained breaths.
"Shh..." I stroked his hair back, brushing my thumb over his temple soothingly. "Relax, baby. You're not gonna lose me. I promise." I registered movement from the corner of my eye and turned to see Nabin coming back into the room, though I hadn't noticed him leave. He held a syringe in his hand.
"You must rest now, Brother," he said gently as he emptied the syringe into Vaughn's IV. "There will be time to discuss things later."
Vaughn made a soft noise of acknowledgment and squeezed my hand. "I love you," he whispered.
I kissed his dry lips. "Rest. You need to get better so I can kick your ass for making me think you were dead."
He smiled woozily, his eyes glazing over as the drug worked it's way through his system. "You can try," he mumbled.
I smiled and stroked his hair, watching as he drifted to sleep.
Next chapter
I was greeted by a monk who introduced himself as Brother Nabin and who spoke surprisingly fluent English, though he seemed to be the only one. "Brother Neerav is changing his bandages," he said as he led me deeper into the hut, past a room with high-tech medical and exercise equipment that appeared totally out of sync with their surroundings. "I must warn you he still has much healing ahead of him. He may not be aware of your presence."
"I don't care. I want to see him."
The man smiled. "I expected as much. Agent Bristow told me you are very close to him."
I refrained from comment. We turned a corner and my breath stalled. Vaughn lay on a low cot, a machine monitoring his vitals behind his head next to an IV stand, his face drawn in pain as "Brother Neerav" worked on him, his body blocking my view of Vaughn's injuries. I felt lightheaded. Two days ago I had listened to Sydney give a tearful eulogy at Vaughn's funeral and we had leaned on each other for support, watching with the rest of his friends and coworkers as his coffin was lowered into the ground. Only the two of us knew that it was empty except for a few concrete blocks. But even though I knew he was alive, actually seeing him now felt surreal. I was afraid I would wake up and discover that all of this was a figment of my imagination - that Vaughn was really dead.
I stepped closer, feeling my gut twist in sympathy as I got a better view. His chest was a mess of ragged bullet wounds, which the monk was in the process of diligently covering with fresh bandages. His breathing was shallow, his pale face dotted with sweat that shimmered in the light of the fire in the pit at the center of the room. The monk gently prodded at a particularly ugly wound and Vaughn whimpered softly between labored breaths. No, this was no dream. I would never imagine Vaughn suffering like this.
I knelt at his side, opposite the monk, and gathered his hand in mine. "Vaughn," I called softly.
Vaughn's eyes fluttered open, dull and glazed, struggling to focus on my face. His mouth moved soundlessly, forming my name.
I leaned in to kiss his dry, chapped lips, careful not to disturb the man working on him. "Yeah, baby, it's me. I'm here," I whispered. I pressed another kiss to his forehead and felt him squeeze my hand feebly.
Nabin returned as Neerav finished the bandages, a wooden bowl in his hands. He knelt by Vaughn's head and pressed a gentle hand to his forehead, speaking to him in his native language. Vaughn's lips parted in response and the monk slipped his hand beneath his neck, lifting his head and helping him drink. I watched quietly as he slowly drained the bowl. The monk smiled as he returned Vaughn's head to the pillow and handed the empty bowl to his "brother", who handed him a syringe filled with clear fluid from his tray of supplies and left without a word.
"This will ease the pain," Nabin explained to me as he injected the contents of the syringe into Vaughn's IV. "And it will help him sleep."
I nodded, my throat feeling constricted, my mouth dry. Nabin continued to speak to Vaughn in his native language as he tucked a thick blanket around him. I kissed Vaughn's knuckles and stroked his hand as he gradually slipped into unconsciousness.
"He has spoken your name often," Nabin said. "He will be glad to see you have come."
I smiled weakly and nodded. Somehow I doubted he would be thrilled to find that I had abandoned everything to go into hiding with him. He would probably take it as a sign that he had failed to protect me from the insanity that had become his world. But I didn't care. I knew now that I would go anywhere - do anything - to be with him.
*********
I spent the next days and weeks helping the monks care for Vaughn. I learned that the hut was a sort of safehouse known to only a handful of CIA agents, namely Jack Bristow and his daughter, kept well stocked with medical supplies for just such an occasion. I learned that "Neerav" was a Hindu word for "silent", a name Nabin told me had been given to the other monk as nobody had ever heard him speak. I also learned that in one of Vaughn's less coherent moments he had mistaken Nabin for me and declared his love for me.
"I think your love for him is what has given him the strength to survive this," he told me one day as I finished bathing Vaughn.
I smiled and dried him with a soft cloth, gently maneuvering his unresponsive body, being careful of the scattered bandages on his chest. "He's stubborn. I'm sure as soon as he realizes I'm here he'll be threatening to kick my ass."
Nabin chuckled. "He will understand. You have made great sacrifices to be here with him."
I finished and sat back so Nabin could reattach the monitoring sensors to Vaughn, replacing the tape holding the IV in place at his elbow. "He'll think they're too great," I said.
Nabin just smiled. "For love, no sacrifice is too great."
A weak smile tugged at my lips. He was right, I realized. I hoped Vaughn would see it that way too...eventually.
********
It was nearly a month after I arrived when Vaughn finally looked at me with full awareness.
"Hey baby," I said gently, smiling down at him.
He stared at me, his mouth working silently, his forehead creasing into an intricate maze. "What..."
I winced at the weak, pained sound and squeezed his hand as that one word caused him to cough lightly. He squeezed back, his eyes glazing as pain washed over him.
"Easy," I whispered, soothing his forehead with my free hand. "Shh...take it easy. Try to relax."
A thready moan escaped him. I swallowed against the lump forming in my throat and bent to kiss his forehead. "It's okay," I murmured, more for my benefit than his. "You're going to be okay."
I jumped as a gentle hand touched my shoulder and turned to see Brother Nabin standing beside me, a bowl in his other hand. He smiled and addressed Vaughn in Nepalese. Vaughn nodded silently and the monk moved to his side, gently lifting his head and tipping the bowl to his lips.
"Water," Nabin explained to me with a kind smile.
I nodded and watched Vaughn drain half the bowl, pained lines forming around his lips as Nabin lowered his head back to the pillow.
"You have been shot," Nabin said, obviously speaking in English for my benefit and not Vaughn's. "Do you remember?"
He nodded tightly.
"Good," Nabin smiled.
"What are you doing here," Vaughn demanded, his voice rough, pain-glazed eyes boring into me.
My first instinct was to make a joke about him trying to ditch me but I didn't think he would appreciate it at that moment. "Sydney didn't think it was safe for me to stay."
A spark of anger flashed in his eyes. "Why wouldn't..."
"Jack Shephard's dead. So's his father. Sydney thinks Prophet 5 may be responsible."
Vaughn's face went pale, his eyes registering a different sort of pain. "No..."
"It's not your fault," I added quickly. "He didn't have to help you escape the hospital. That was his decision."
"I owed him my life," Vaughn argued, his voice weak. "I should have protected him..."
"It was a plane crash. There was nothing you could have done," I soothed.
Vaughn closed his eyes and shook his head. It didn't matter. He would still blame himself. "I'm sorry," he whispered. "I didn't want to drag you into this..."
"Hey," I cut in, squeezing his hand and waiting for his eyes to meet mine. "Don't. I love you. We're in this together whether you like it or not."
"It's not safe," he argued.
"I don't care," I said firmly. "I'm not letting you go through this alone. I was willing to stay away as long as I thought it would keep you safe but I won't do it anymore."
"I ca..." he broke off with a weak cough, wincing as his abused lungs no doubt screamed in agony. "I can't lose you too," he forced out between pained breaths.
"Shh..." I stroked his hair back, brushing my thumb over his temple soothingly. "Relax, baby. You're not gonna lose me. I promise." I registered movement from the corner of my eye and turned to see Nabin coming back into the room, though I hadn't noticed him leave. He held a syringe in his hand.
"You must rest now, Brother," he said gently as he emptied the syringe into Vaughn's IV. "There will be time to discuss things later."
Vaughn made a soft noise of acknowledgment and squeezed my hand. "I love you," he whispered.
I kissed his dry lips. "Rest. You need to get better so I can kick your ass for making me think you were dead."
He smiled woozily, his eyes glazing over as the drug worked it's way through his system. "You can try," he mumbled.
I smiled and stroked his hair, watching as he drifted to sleep.
Next chapter
