He had guessed that she'd fallen asleep when she didn't laugh at one of the (in his opinion) funnier bits of the story, but he kept talking anyway, as if to stop now would break whatever spell she was under. He was nervous, though, so when he finished and fell silent, he turned his head to look down at her, no longer having to keep a smile on his lips.
She looked so small, compared to her normal self. It was honestly a little terrifying, now that he had a minute to think about it, and her breathing was so quiet and slow that a fear grew in his breast and he had to hold his free hand up just a couple inches from her face, to make sure he could still feel her breath against it. Just to check that she wasn't slipping away into whatever fucked up half death that he'd already suffered. But she kept sleeping, and she looked so peaceful, unhaunted by the voices driving for guilt, that he relaxed.
He hated seeing her this small, like she didn't even fill out her own personality, but at the same time he felt a surge of protectiveness. He knew that in a normal situation, she was the one who'd pull his ass from the fire, no matter how much he'd like to pretend they were at least even on that score. She was a marine. Unlike Amos, it really was her job to protect him - to protect the pilot. He didn't like thinking that way, preferred to fight his own battles if he could, but...
He didn't mind knowing he had a marine at his back.
And now here she was, a fraction of herself, and he wanted to protect her - wanted to save her, and he had almost nothing to do that with. There was no enemy to fight, nothing to fly or shoot. Whatever was doing this to them wasn't something he could stop. He couldn't even see it.
All he could do was be there, and tell her dumb stories, and hope that this would go away in a far less violent way than his - Illness? Incident? - had.
So he didn't move. He just watched her, and couldn't quite stop himself from reaching out and pushing a stray piece of hair from her face. Then he watched for a minute more, his chest twisting as he fought himself, urge and reason on opposite sides of the debate. Urge won out - reason being mollified by the fact that she was asleep - and he leaned in to almost barely touch his lips to her hair, and murmur: "I've got you, gunny."
A little while later, his head fell back against the wall, and he drifted off to sleep with her.
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She looked so small, compared to her normal self. It was honestly a little terrifying, now that he had a minute to think about it, and her breathing was so quiet and slow that a fear grew in his breast and he had to hold his free hand up just a couple inches from her face, to make sure he could still feel her breath against it. Just to check that she wasn't slipping away into whatever fucked up half death that he'd already suffered. But she kept sleeping, and she looked so peaceful, unhaunted by the voices driving for guilt, that he relaxed.
He hated seeing her this small, like she didn't even fill out her own personality, but at the same time he felt a surge of protectiveness. He knew that in a normal situation, she was the one who'd pull his ass from the fire, no matter how much he'd like to pretend they were at least even on that score. She was a marine. Unlike Amos, it really was her job to protect him - to protect the pilot. He didn't like thinking that way, preferred to fight his own battles if he could, but...
He didn't mind knowing he had a marine at his back.
And now here she was, a fraction of herself, and he wanted to protect her - wanted to save her, and he had almost nothing to do that with. There was no enemy to fight, nothing to fly or shoot. Whatever was doing this to them wasn't something he could stop. He couldn't even see it.
All he could do was be there, and tell her dumb stories, and hope that this would go away in a far less violent way than his - Illness? Incident? - had.
So he didn't move. He just watched her, and couldn't quite stop himself from reaching out and pushing a stray piece of hair from her face. Then he watched for a minute more, his chest twisting as he fought himself, urge and reason on opposite sides of the debate. Urge won out - reason being mollified by the fact that she was asleep - and he leaned in to almost barely touch his lips to her hair, and murmur: "I've got you, gunny."
A little while later, his head fell back against the wall, and he drifted off to sleep with her.