The Heart of a Warrior

Chapter 13

I'm beginning to become a bit - what was the word Doc used? - "loopy" on the way back to Adrian's room. Doc gave me some sedatives to help me "sleep through the pain". I had almost laughed out loud at the ridiculous idea. I've been in pain basically my entire life. "Pain" to me isn't like "pain" to other people, I imagine. Based on other's attitudes towards the subject, I've guessed that pain greatly affects their actions, that it's a hard feeling to function with. "Pain" for me, on the other hand, is just a fact of life. Like a dog born with three legs, I've learned to adapt and live out life the same as everyone else. I don't know any different. Pain won't keep me from sleeping. My training and flashbacks will, however.

Which, is the only reason why I actually took the damn pills. I need to get my strength back, and sleeping for a significant amount of time will allow me to do that. Although, given the weird sluggish feeling my head has taken on, I'm beginning to regret my decision.

Adrian is currently carrying me to his room. Doc let us go after taping my ribs, wrapping my shoulder, and supplying me with a sling so I can't agitate my shoulder significantly by moving it. Though Doc and Brian left willingly, I had to nearly force Adrian out of the room so I could change out of my blood and dirt covered shorts and into a pair of Adrian's boxers. Once everything was relatively taken care of, Doc had insisted I should rest until he tells me otherwise, and gradually begin eating more. His goal is that I eventually get up to three meals a day, and my eyes nearly popped out of their sockets at his expectation. Not surprisingly, I've never eaten that frequently in my entire life.

Adrian somehow manages to open his door with me still securely in his arms. As he walks over to place me on his bed, I speak up.

"No. I'm not sleeping there." My voice is muffled by his shirt. When did I turn my head into his chest?

"Oh, right," he says, his voice slightly sarcastic, "I forgot you have an unexplained dislike towards my bed".

Not entirely sure if it's the drugs or me talking at this point, I correct him. "Not your bed," I mumble.

"What are you talking about?" His voice is confused, but he chuckles a bit. "Of course it's my bed."

Shaking my head sleepily, my face still pressed against his chest, I try again. "Nooo, moron. Not just your bed. I don't like any beds."

"Why?" he asks. I can imagine the adorable way his eyebrows will scrunch together from his confusion.

Definitely the drugs talking.

"Gross," I mumble, my head feeling heavier than ever.

"Beds are gross?" Adrian questions, clearly confused but still a bit amused.

Even with the drugs, I am unbelievably relieved he doesn't understand what I'm talking about.

"Mm-hmm," I confirm. It sounds like he starts to say something else, but at that exact point the drug-induced sleep finally pulls me under, and I drift into peaceful oblivion.

****

As my mind gradually finds its way back to consciousness, I become extremely aware of two strong arms circling my body, holding me to someone else's. In a fraction of a second I register that they're not just anyone's arms, but a man's arms, and they're not just securing me against anyone's body, but a man's torso as I'm seated in his lap. Twisting, I effectively break his grip and launch myself out of his arms. I land in a defensive position ten feet from him, and at that point my mind catches up with my instincts.

I stare at Adrian as he does me, and watch as he slowly brings his hands up into a loose, surrendering position. After a few seconds, Adrian slowly stands up, but remains where he is.