home interprets heaven (polypile au; winter 1811)

[dexteritas]

The fever breaking had been as much a relief for the ailing men as it had been for their caretakers. Alex, by this point familiar enough with the way soldiering weighed on him, knew that the whispers of the dead that he'd heard in the height of his fever would likely continue to haunt his thankfully infrequent nightmares.

(The dead still felt more real to him than any moment of true consciousness he'd experienced during the worst of it. It's not pleasant to contemplate if that will continue; earns the occasional shiver out of him to think on-- Though, in fairness, those may just be the lingering shakes he'd not quite worked out of his system.)

For his part, he'd worried himself nearly into illness again, fretting over how Archie's fever lingered a little longer than his.

(Archie had called for all of them-- Cass and Alex and the Williamses and Horatio, desperate and needy and sounding as though he thought himself frightfully alone. Alexander's own heart had broken for the knowledge they couldn't all be here together; couldn't even properly be there for Archie in the twist of his own mind.)

Holding his wife's hand had been the only thing to keep him steady enough to breathe until Archie regained his senses. He'd had to relinquish the comfort, when it became clear that Archie's appetite hadn't returned with his mind and he was growing too thin by half. (Alex knew he was diminished in his own right, but at least his desire to eat had come back once the fever cleared.)

At least now that they'd been sent to the estate to properly recuperate, they were even more free to find solace in touch. He and Archie were piled into the same bed, the latter dozing lightly. When Cassandra next comes into the room, Alex extricates himself cautiously from the octopus-like tangle of Archie's limbs and shifts over just enough to make space for her between the two of them.

"Come have a lie down between us, dearheart. We're through the worst of it, now."

She looks more than a little fragile herself, after all. It'll be better for them to be lying properly together; all feeling one another breathing steadily. It's not the same as having all of them all together, but hopefully it's enough.

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[ofwovenstone]

It has been… a trying time, to say the least. A trying year. One blow after another. Cassandra has done her best to bear the weight, to carry the terror and stress and worry and bury it deep. She couldn’t afford to falter. She couldn’t afford to break. Not when those she loved so deeply needed her. So she wrapped poise and composure around herself like a cloak. Even as the façade began to slowly fracture, cracks splintering across its surface.

Watching her husband toss and turn in the grips of sickness, almost echoed by Archie doing much the same in a nearby bed, had torn her apart. She’d all but refused to leave her husband’s side, and because he WAS her husband there wasn’t as much fuss as there might have been, otherwise. She’d only needed to pull rank once, quietly but firmly. Countess by marriage and duchess by birth, she refused to be moved.

And of course, it was only right and proper that she keep a watchful eye on Archie as well; as one of the men under her husband’s command, of course she would take care of him when his commander couldn’t.

It wasn’t until they were both well enough to be moved to the estate to recuperate properly that she felt as though she were able to breathe a little. She’s still afraid to leave their sides, afraid to go more than a room away; unable to shake the memory of watching them twist and turn feverishly, gasping for breath. Terrified that she was going to lose them both.

But the sight of Alexander, carefully extricating himself from Archie and making space for her to nestle between them, makes her heart catch in her throat. The smile she gives him is warm and terribly fond. And more than a little relieved. “That is very good to hear,” she murmurs softly. “And I’d love to.” She slips out of some of her layers for comfort’s sake (and ease; she’s learned that it’s far easier to join them in bed without quite so many layers to tangle and otherwise get in the way), and then she slips gracefully into bed, settling between the two of them.

They are solid and reassuringly warm beside her, and something hitches in her chest even as some of the tension eases out of her. She presses her forehead against Alexander’s shoulder for a long moment and just… breathes.

[dexteritas]

There. That's much better. Archie shifts in his sleep as Cass settles in, stirring towards consciousness, and Alexander presses a light kiss against her hair and he moves even closer. His hand brushes lightly against the side of her arm before coming to rest against her waist.

"I can't speak for the others," he murmurs softly, head resting against hers, "But the two of us are safe home, now. It's all right."

Laurence was still on the other side of the world-- Not well, he'd been told, but he knew very little beyond that. Lawford was on his way to Spain before the year was out, and Alexander's heart was in his throat for him.

But Horatio and Bill were alive, unexpectedly and blessedly. Yes, Horatio was still in London dealing with the fanfare of their return, but at least they knew Bill was safe visiting his sisters and mother. At least they knew he'd be able to come home here to them, soon.

And the three of them were here, cuddled together. The three of them were still steady, still breathing. Surely that's enough to ease a heart.