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Entry tags:
Fic: Recovery (Benjamin January mysteries, G)
Title: Recovery
Author: Brigdh
Ratings/Warnings: G
Summary: Rose takes care of a poisoned Hannibal.
Disclaimer: The Benjamin January mysteries are by Barbara Hambly, and you should all read them.
Notes: This is just a tiny little thing. I wrote it for that writing meme I posted recently, in response to a prompt from an anonymous commenter (so thanks, anon!), but I figured it had enough substance to be a ficlet, so why not post it.
Set just after the climatic parts of Dead Water.
600 words. Also available on AO3.
Recovery
Hannibal’s breathing changed; after a moment he opened his eyes, squinted, and slowly turned his head. He had done so several times before without truly waking, but now there was a greater awareness in his manner, as though he finally saw the room’s bare walls and his own blanket-covered form. Rose closed her book and waited to see if he would– or could– speak. The motion drew his attention, and he subjected her to the same searching gaze before giving up with a sigh and rubbing his eyes. “How do you feel?” she asked.
"Terrible." His voice was husky and almost inaudible, but the word was formed well enough.
"I'm not surprised. You were poisoned." Rose stood to pour some of the tisane Benjamin had left. She focused on her hands on the small pot; the task helped her contain how she felt, though it was probably still obvious. Her concern for Hannibal had been nearly overwhelming, and even with a night’s sleep and this evidence of his recovery her emotions felt too close beneath her skin.
"Really? I thought…." Hannibal was silent for long enough that Rose suspected he had lost the thread of the conversation, but when he spoke again, it was with greater strength and humor. "Well. At least I am absolved of the guilt, if not the hangover itself."
Rose sat on the edge of his bed, her hip brushing the side of his thigh. "Drink this. It should help." She held the cup for him when Hannibal’s hands proved too shaky to take it without spilling the hot liquid. His face had lost its unnerving grey tinge, but he couldn’t take more than a few sips before he had to pause to recover his breath.
“We’re not on the boat anymore.” It wasn’t a question, and he didn’t look up at her as he spoke.
“No,” Rose said gently. “But it doesn’t matter. We realized where the gold’s been hidden.”
“Congratulations are in order, then. You’ll keep your house.” Hannibal managed a smile for her, though it only emphasized how exhausted he looked. Still, it was good to see him with enough spirit to try, and Rose returned the smile. “Is that why I was poisoned? To protect the secret?”
“It had nothing to do with the gold. I suppose it must have seemed necessary, from their perspective, but–” Rose broke off, tightening her lips. She studied Hannibal, his heavy-lidded and bruised-looking eyes, the weariness evident in his slumped posture. “It’s a long story. Though you’ll probably laugh when you hear it,” she added frankly.
“Something to look forward to.” He drank a little more of the tisane, but the cup was still half-full when he declined the rest and sank back against the pillows, clearly weakening. She set it aside without argument, but turned back to feel his cheeks and hands, which seemed only slightly cooler than normal, an improvement from earlier.
“You should feel better soon. Another day or two, and we can head back to New Orleans.” She allowed herself to remain seated by his side, still touching his hand. She suspected her presence meant a great deal to Hannibal, and there wasn’t much else she could do for him; besides, she too found satisfaction in such closeness.
“Thank you. That’s good to know.” He reached for her fingers, squeezing them briefly before releasing them. "You needn't stay. I suspect I am unlikely to do much of interest."
"I know," Rose said, folding her hands in her lap, but he had been asleep for some time before she rose from the bed.
***
Author: Brigdh
Ratings/Warnings: G
Summary: Rose takes care of a poisoned Hannibal.
Disclaimer: The Benjamin January mysteries are by Barbara Hambly, and you should all read them.
Notes: This is just a tiny little thing. I wrote it for that writing meme I posted recently, in response to a prompt from an anonymous commenter (so thanks, anon!), but I figured it had enough substance to be a ficlet, so why not post it.
Set just after the climatic parts of Dead Water.
600 words. Also available on AO3.
Recovery
Hannibal’s breathing changed; after a moment he opened his eyes, squinted, and slowly turned his head. He had done so several times before without truly waking, but now there was a greater awareness in his manner, as though he finally saw the room’s bare walls and his own blanket-covered form. Rose closed her book and waited to see if he would– or could– speak. The motion drew his attention, and he subjected her to the same searching gaze before giving up with a sigh and rubbing his eyes. “How do you feel?” she asked.
"Terrible." His voice was husky and almost inaudible, but the word was formed well enough.
"I'm not surprised. You were poisoned." Rose stood to pour some of the tisane Benjamin had left. She focused on her hands on the small pot; the task helped her contain how she felt, though it was probably still obvious. Her concern for Hannibal had been nearly overwhelming, and even with a night’s sleep and this evidence of his recovery her emotions felt too close beneath her skin.
"Really? I thought…." Hannibal was silent for long enough that Rose suspected he had lost the thread of the conversation, but when he spoke again, it was with greater strength and humor. "Well. At least I am absolved of the guilt, if not the hangover itself."
Rose sat on the edge of his bed, her hip brushing the side of his thigh. "Drink this. It should help." She held the cup for him when Hannibal’s hands proved too shaky to take it without spilling the hot liquid. His face had lost its unnerving grey tinge, but he couldn’t take more than a few sips before he had to pause to recover his breath.
“We’re not on the boat anymore.” It wasn’t a question, and he didn’t look up at her as he spoke.
“No,” Rose said gently. “But it doesn’t matter. We realized where the gold’s been hidden.”
“Congratulations are in order, then. You’ll keep your house.” Hannibal managed a smile for her, though it only emphasized how exhausted he looked. Still, it was good to see him with enough spirit to try, and Rose returned the smile. “Is that why I was poisoned? To protect the secret?”
“It had nothing to do with the gold. I suppose it must have seemed necessary, from their perspective, but–” Rose broke off, tightening her lips. She studied Hannibal, his heavy-lidded and bruised-looking eyes, the weariness evident in his slumped posture. “It’s a long story. Though you’ll probably laugh when you hear it,” she added frankly.
“Something to look forward to.” He drank a little more of the tisane, but the cup was still half-full when he declined the rest and sank back against the pillows, clearly weakening. She set it aside without argument, but turned back to feel his cheeks and hands, which seemed only slightly cooler than normal, an improvement from earlier.
“You should feel better soon. Another day or two, and we can head back to New Orleans.” She allowed herself to remain seated by his side, still touching his hand. She suspected her presence meant a great deal to Hannibal, and there wasn’t much else she could do for him; besides, she too found satisfaction in such closeness.
“Thank you. That’s good to know.” He reached for her fingers, squeezing them briefly before releasing them. "You needn't stay. I suspect I am unlikely to do much of interest."
"I know," Rose said, folding her hands in her lap, but he had been asleep for some time before she rose from the bed.