e_delmar | (no subject)

(no subject)

Ain't nothin' but a normal room. Pretty one, too, if'n you don't think too hard on what's goin' on in there. Ennis' sleeping more now, at least -- the drugs help with that -- but he's still awake a lot (and damn grumpy about it, too. But he ain't no less grumpy about the sleep, neither).

But he's there, and at least that's something.

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He smiles wryly, and it shows in his eyes that he misses them, too.

The horses.

The people.

"Everything fixed up alright?"

"Aye." It's a little amused, like Caspian is humoring Ennis the boss, instead of the other way around.

Well, it's a good thing Ennis ain't likely to catch on. Instead he smiles, approvingly if lopsidedly.

"Jack pullin' his weight?"

Ennis' weight, he doesn't think about.

"He's a good worker, but he hasn't been able to be there quite as often as usual," Caspian admits. He doesn't seem too displeased by this, though--after all, Jack has more important places to be and Caspian himself has chased him out of the stables and back to Shadow at least once.

"Sorry 'bout that."

Caspian lifts a hand, settles back into the chair.

"I shouldn't think you would truly rather have him back at the stables, working, rather than being here."

"Work needs t'get done."

But he can't quite make himself meet Caspian's eyes.

Particularly when Caspian is looking at him so steadily, perhaps, though his expression remains mild.

There is nothing to suggest that perhaps he knows.

"In the book, you know, Jack is listed as a volunteer, and not an official employee," lightly. "He can come and go as he pleases."

Ennis nods, and it's more'n a brief pause before he looks up at Caspian, somethin' like fright in his eyes.

"Ennis."

It's firm, and there's something like sternness in Caspian's expression.

"Everything is taken care of, I promise you." Perhaps he has been busy lately, but there has been time enough for this. There's something of an emphasis on tbat word everything, and Caspian lifts his eyebrows just slightly.

Ennis looks up at him, nodding, and seeming to let go of ... something.

"S'good."

"I wanted to thank you," Caspian continues, "for being at my wedding. You and Jack both. Joy is made even brighter by the presence of friends."

He lowers his head, just a little, like he's embarrassed.

"Was nice 'f you to have us."

"I rather think," a little wry, a lot amused,
"that after the previous evening, it was nicer of you to come."

There's a pause, and a wheeze, and then a laugh like that room ain't heard in a few days, at least.

Caspian smiles, genuine and delighted, and laughs too.

"Lilly Kane," he says, by way of explanation and shaking his head. "I should never have agreed to it."

The laughing turns into coughing, but the smile's still there (even if his eyes say that Lilly Kane's a danger to society).

Caspian would be inclined to agree, so his smile doesn't fade completely, even at the cough.

"Water?" he asks, glancing at the bedside table where a glass and jug sit.

Ennis nods, pulling his handkerchief up to cover his mouth.

He pours (not too full, though he'd hated that when he was ill, how careful his courtiers and friends became around him) and holds it out to Ennis, next to the other man's hand so he doesn't have to reach too far.

Any more water, and it would've been all over him, and Ennis knows it well. Ennis reaches out, his hand touching Caspian's

(old)

younger one and he nods gratefully as his shaky hand leads the glass to his mouth.

There was a stream, with water as cold and clear as mountain air.

There was a drop of blood, and then he saw the sky, and the sun, and Him.

Caspian waits until Ennis has finished drinking before reaching back for the cup and putting it gently back on the bedside table. That same hand leaves the cup, and is placed over Ennis' weathered one; and even though Caspian's hand is young and strong and Ennis' is old and far weaker than a hand belionging to to his man has any right to be, still--

Still, there's something the same about them.

Ennis takes the hand, his eyes closed and his face grateful, and he squeezes it.

There are things, Caspian supposes, he should say. Diplomatic things that his advisors would have suggested, but in the end?

Those same advisors were as wordless as he. But they smiled, and gave him their hands, and so he does the same now, and tries not to think of the other sickbeds

deathbeds

he has sat at.

It's quiet, there in the room, but out the window, Ennis can hear the animals and the wind and the trees. And it doesn't take long before his breath evens and his body relaxes, and he sleeps, hand in hand with a king.

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