Date: 2017-06-03 09:46 pm (UTC)
his_majestys_navy: (Default)
James has slept in chairs before. He's slept in much more uncomfortable places, actually, but his tall frame is crumpled slightly in sleep, head lolled forwards back slumped. But it isn't a deep sleep. Navy officers learn to be light sleepers in time. The change in Horatio's breathing as he wakes isn't quite enough to stir him, but that low noise seems to register, as does the tightening of the hand in his.

"Horatio?"

The muzziness clears as he forces himself to sit up straight, to reach over to the oil lamp, the gloom receding somewhat. Horatio seems unbelievably pale, even against the white sheets, although James hopes that is the effect of the moonlight.

"Horatio, please do not strain yourself. The surgeon has done as best as he can, but you will take time to heal."

But it does his heart so much good to see Horatio's eyes open, to see life in him, even if it is dazed and confused. His hand keeps hold of Horatio's, squeezing gently as he shifts, moving to sit on the edge of the bed.

He doesn't want to strain him, he doesn't want Horatio to do too much, to exhaust himself and lapse back into unconsciousness. He will have to tell him everything, he knows that much, he will have to find out what Horatio remembers. But he is awake, and that is the most important thing to James at that moment.
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h. hornblower

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