⇾ 𝐈𝐒𝐍'𝐓 𝐈𝐓 𝐀 𝐏𝐈𝐓𝐘? | 𝐆𝐞𝐨𝐫𝐠𝐞 𝐇𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐨𝐧 𝐈𝐈𝐈

↠ 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐟𝐢𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐞𝐧

Alexandria raised an eyebrow. She recognized the flowing nature of George's words, the way each one seemed to bleed perfectly into the next, and the lazy smile that was on his lips. "George, honey," she said gently. "Have you been drinking?"

George's cheeks turned a touch pink. "You're on a lot of drugs, so you can't say anything."

Alexandria rolled her eyes. "When did you manage to drink? And how much did you drink?"

"Just enough to calm me nerves," he said, and to answer her first question, he drew his small, silver flask from his coat pocket and flashed it at her.

"Bloody cheeky," Alexandria mused. "I oughta be upset with you."

"Why?" George asked. "I'm keeping you calm right now. Cool as a cucumber."

"I should be upset because you're drinking while I'm in the bloody hospital."

"Just enough to calm me nerves," George repeated. "I'm not by any means drunk," he clarified. "By the time you're discharged, I'm sure I'll be nothing more than a bit buzzed."

Alexandria cocked an eyebrow. "And what exactly are you right now?"

"A little more than a bit buzzed," he answered with a dopey grin.

Alexandria, try as she might, was unable to be upset with him. Before long, she was returning his smile. With his free hand, George reached forward to brush her hair behind her ear.

"I'm getting a distinct sense of déjà vù being here right now," Alexandria said, looking around the hospital room quite nervously.

"From the last time you had a laparoscopy?"

Alexandria shook her head. "From the last time I had a miscarriage," she answered, feeling a bit ill and dizzy at the very thought.

George's eyebrows drew together in concern. "You're looking decidedly pale."

"Well, thanks for pointing it out," Alexandria grumbled. She paused. "I hate it here, George," she said quietly. "I can't stand to look at these damned walls." She wiggled her hand out of his and brought it up to chew on her nails. It wasn't really a habit of hers, but she felt like she had to do something with her hands, and for some reason, it was the first thing that came to mind.

George reached up and took her hand back into his. "It's all right," he said. "I'm here. Nothing bad is going to happen."

Alexandria shook her head. "It's not that," she said. "I just..." She looked around. "It reminds me too much of it, George. I just keep remembering what was goin' on the last time I was in a damned hospital bed." She sighed, closed her eyes, and leaned her head back against her pillow. She felt utterly exhausted. "Hell, George, I can't wait to go home. I'm gonna take the longest bloody nap, and it's going to be in my comfortable bed, with my comfortable blankets..." she popped an eye open, "and, of course, with my cuddly husband."

George grinned. "Sounds like a divine plan to me," he said. "Now, if those nurses would hurry their arses up and come to check on you..."

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

Alexandria choked down a new dose of her pain medicine. It was seven in the evening now, and as promised, she had spent a good chunk of the afternoon in her own comfortable bed, enjoying a rather lengthy nap. She'd taken—and almost thrown up—the first dose just a couple of minutes before being discharged from the hospital at noon, and now, seven hours had passed, the correct amount of time her doctors had suggested to wait in between doses.