(no subject)

[athelstanthescribe]

Athelstan had been doing better, it seemed, talking with more strength and lucidity and staying awake longer at a stretch.

Not any more.

He's lying on his front again, sweat standing out on his skin, when Sinric approaches the bed, and mutters something unintelligible when Sinric touches him.

Comments

[cook_the_rude]

"I am," the doctor says, quietly. "And you are dear to Sinric, who in turn is very dear to me. Where are you going?"

[athelstanthescribe]

"...home..." He looks around, lost and confused. "If I can find the way."

[cook_the_rude]

The doctor regards him calmly. "Home to the world you share with Ragnar?"

[athelstanthescribe]

"Home to... yes. To where I can find him again."

[cook_the_rude]

"Come, take my hand," the doctor says, helpfully. "I can take you to the door to your world."

Beat.

"Home."

[athelstanthescribe]

"You'll help me find the way?" He looks down, reaching out for the doctor's hand. "My feet hurt..."

And are bleeding through the bandages again, besides.

[cook_the_rude]

"It's not far," the doctor says.

[athelstanthescribe]

"All right", he says, trusting this man who claims friendship with Sinric - and where is Sinric? The thought flies away before he can catch it. "Please show me the way."

[cook_the_rude]

"Come with me," the doctor says, taking some steps towards the door as if to see whether Athelstan is up to it.

[athelstanthescribe]

He follows - at a slow shuffle and with little whimpers of pain, but he does follow.

[cook_the_rude]

"Look, there is the door," the doctor says. "And beyond that, your home world."

[athelstanthescribe]

"Home", Athelstan whispers, clinging to it as the one thing he wants in his delirium, and keeps walking. "Home."

[cook_the_rude]

"Home," the doctor says, quietly, when they reach the door. "Open it -- only you can find your own home."

[athelstanthescribe]

He reaches for the handle and closes his hand around it - and opens the door.

On the other side is a plain-looking corridor.

[cook_the_rude]

"That is home?" the doctor says.

[athelstanthescribe]

Athelstan stares out at it, confused, then at his hand on the door.

"I... I think it must be..."

And he takes a faltering step forward.

[cook_the_rude]

"Will you be all right there?" the doctor asks.

[athelstanthescribe]

"I'm not going to die." Even lost in fever, he's oddly sure of it, before returning to his fixation. "And I'm going home."

[cook_the_rude]

The doctor lets go of his hand.

[athelstanthescribe]

He stumbles, steadies himself with a great deal of effort, and steps through the door.

It closes behind him.

[thewidewideworld]

Sinric makes it to the landing of the south stairs but his forced to sit and rest. His ankle is badly swollen and turning blue with brusing. Likewise his hand is red when he tried to stop his fall and grazed it.

Tears of frustration and panic for Athelstan flood his being and he bites back a sob and he tries to stand, crying out as he pushes himself on.

[cook_the_rude]

Hannibal is coming upstairs and stops, deep concern on his face.

"Sinric!" he says. "What happened?"

He reaches out to help Sinric stand.

[thewidewideworld]

Sinric's eyes light up at the sight of a familiar face. "Sir, you must hurry! It's Athelstan! The fever is on him and he raves. I can looking for help and tripped on the stair. You must go to him! Please, I beg of you. He needs your help!"

His own injuries mean nothing to him compared to getting Athelstan help.

[cook_the_rude]

The doctor pulls out a rather large handkerchief, and kneels down at Sinric's feet.

"I'll bandage your ankle quite tightly," he says, "and then help you downstairs -- he will know you and trust you, even in a delirium."

[thewidewideworld]

Sinric shakes his head but doesn't push Hannibal away. "You mustn't waste time on me. Please, he is burning and my foolishness has already cost dearly in time. Please, leave me and go to him." It comes out as a frightened sob.