sixwordstories | (no subject)

[Sam is awake in a heartbeat, moving next to his brother's bed. Instantly, years of training kick in. He moves the younger man onto his side after checking to see if there's anything on his bed that might cause him to choke or otherwise hurt him. He next quickly places a pillow under his head. After that is done, he moves back. There's not much else he can do.]

[Oliver is even more thankful for Sam's quick action, since he remains conscious throughout the entire ordeal. It certainly looks like a seizure, but his eyes stay open and he stares into the darkness of the room. Unable to breathe, he knows he needs not to panic and just to let it pass, but it's difficult for him to do. His body stretches and muscles twist for a painful few moments before suddenly he goes slack. Sucking in quiet, heavy breaths he gasps and his shoulders shake.]

[He watches in silence, the fear never really reaching his eyes. He'd learned howto put that mask on years ago, and doing so now was like a second skin. He found being calm instead of overtly emotional tended to calm others in turn. As the tremors stopped, he went to get his phone from the night stand and quickly dialed 911. When that was done, he climbed into bed with his brother and pulled him close to him.]

You fucking scared me, Ollie. [His voice is quiet, and thick with the fear that never touched his face.] You're not allowed to die. Not you, too.

[Even as his brother climbs into the bed at his side, Oliver can't find his voice to speak. He's breathing harder than he should be still, almost harder than he's capable of. The heavy sound of his exhales are some of the only noises in the room, until Sam's voice breaks through. Oliver swallows hard and shuts his eyes, tipping his head to the side so he can press it against his brother's shoulder. Even if he can't feel it, he takes some comfort in knowing that he's been cradled.]

I... I won't. Don't say... don't say "too," Sam. Who is too?

Garza. Reynolds. Claybourne. Linde. Ung. Jones. Black. Renduchintala. Van de Venter. There's more. It doesn't matter. Just calm down.

[Immediately, Oliver wishes that he hadn't asked. It's a selfish wish, especially because he knows that Sam needs to talk things out as much as possible. With his brother looking at his fourth deployment, he needs someone to listen to him. But as the list of names grows longer and longer, he feels hot acid sting the back of his throat and knows he's close to throwing up. Closing his eyes, Oliver takes a few more gasping breaths and leans his head as close into Sam as he can.]

Okay, it's okay. It's okay. [He sucks in more air weakly.] We're too lucky for that.

We better be. [He slowly runs his hand through his bother's hair, mentally willing to calm him down, when the paramedics arrive.]

I wish you wouldn't have called them. [It's really all Oliver can say as he hears the commotion outside and knows the purpose of the phone call Sam must have made. He can't fault his brother for doing so. There's certainly no blame in his voice. Just the resignation of knowing that he's about to get carted off to another place that isn't going to treat him nearly as humanely, and that will probably try to talk his brother out of bringing him back anyway.]

Sorry, Sam. [His eyes close tiredly and Oliver wills himself to have just a few more moments of feeling comforted by his brother.]