hasperkynipples | civil war au } { please leave the light on for me

He doesn't see it coming.

He should have. He's a soldier, he's trained for these things. He should have expected that after so long of being occupied, the citizens of New Orleans would start striking back. There's no reason why they wouldn't pick off Union soldiers seen on their own. Dean had gotten complacent. Gotten sloppy. And now he was probably going to die before he could even make it back to his unit.

His hand stays pressed to his side as he continues to stumble up the street, trying to keep himself mobile as best he can. He hurts, everywhere from the beating he had taken and the blood is still leaking through his fingers. He's not going to make it. His parents, brother, they may be prepared for him to die in the heat of battle. He doesn't think they would appreciate hearing that he was killed by being jumped on the street.

He trips on a crack in the pathway, pitching forward into a nearby fence post with a pained groan. He tries to push himself back to his feet again, but he can't. His body drops to the ground, slumping against the fence as he does, trying to catch his breath. Things are starting to get hazy around the edges, but he still thinks that he can make out the faint sound of footsteps.

"Help me," he manages to whisper, unsure if he's talking to anyone at all. "Please."

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He laughs a bit at that, before moving to take his own turn. "It'll come. Sometimes it's just a matter of having the right luck." Besides, the sooner the game is over, the sooner he's sure she'll probably move on and give him some time to rest. He's not sure he wants that quite yet, even if he probably should.

"What does this say of our luck, then, if neither of us have succeeded yet?" Christine exchanges another card and sighs. "And again, I'm without the card I need. We are through most of the deck now."

She's only frustrated because she wants to win. The thought that the end of the game should be the start of his rest hasn't yet occurred to her.

He glances down at the straight in his hand, and the one outlier card he hasn't quite given up yet. He considers for a moment, before picking up his card, and while it is not the one he needs, he doesn't discard it right away. Instead, he passes the one he's been hanging on to.

"Perhaps we just didn't realize what we already had."

"That must be it. I confused the rules earlier and I'm sure that's where I had it wrong and threw away what I should have kept." She'll have to be more cautious from now on. Taking her turn, she chooses the card he discarded and her face lights up as she sets down her cards.

"Gin! You had just what I needed."

He smiles a bit at that, before placing his cards down and pushing them back towards the center of the table. "I'm happy I could help."

She stares proudly at the cards. Her very first card game and she won! Luck was apparently on her side after all.

"I enjoyed myself, Private Winchester. I hope you did too?"

"I did," he says with a nod. "You may become quite the card shark yet."

"Oh, well, I don't know about that..." Blushing, she pats at her hair a little to distract herself from the prospect of becoming a fine card player. It's unbecoming of a lady to take too much delight in cards.

"Did you wish to rest now?"

He takes a deep breath and feels the wince as he pulls at his wound. "It would probably be for the best. It has been a long day."

"All right. Just allow me to clear this aside?" She stands, trying not to look too troubled at his wound. He probably would tell her not to fuss. She carefully moves the chair back into place, tugging and pulling until it's more or less there. Then she returns to the table to get it out of the way too.

Dean shifts to resettled on the settee, trying to get more comfortable. "Thank you, again, for helping me."

"I was happy to be of any kind of use." Her days are so monotonous now, and she hates feeling so powerless. The chance to do something has raised her spirits and she doesn't even care that she's helped someone from the other side. He didn't become injured in battle while pointing his gun at a son of the South. He was injured as a man in a city at its breaking point in some areas, and she can't feel guilty about aiding him.

He smiles again, before leaning back against the settee and closing his eyes. "I suppose I will see you in the morning?"

"Yes, you certainly will. I will want to see how you're healing." She folds her hands in front of herself as she looks him over before she's struck with a thought.

"Oh! Blankets. You need blankets, don't you?"

He smiles a bit at that before nodding. "A blanket would be good. Thank you."

Christine returns his smile and goes to fetch him one, needed to find a servant to help her get one out of a storage trunk. She shakes it out a little to make sure it doesn't smell unpleasant, and when she's sure it's fine she gathers it up in her arms and returns to him. As she approaches his form, she carefully shakes it open again and moves to kneel down beside him, drawing the blanket up and tucking it around him.

It's far too familiar a gesture, she knows, but she can't help herself. Part of her fears he'll tell her she's being foolish, like he knows what's in her heart better than she does, but all she can do is offer him an awkward smile.

"I hope this will be warm enough for you."

He actually doesn't mind the familiarity. It's what he needs, even though he knows on some level it's in appropriate, but it's nice to be cared for. It's far better treatment than he would get back at camp.

"I'm sure it will be fine, Miss Chapel."

"Then I shall see you in the morning. And of course I'll have a servant bring you fresh water for the night." She sits back on her heels, regarding him quietly for a moment.

"You're very brave, y'know. And to be here after all you've suffered with no complaints or ill will... well, you have a good heart."

He smiles softly at that, looking up at her for a moment. "It is kind of you to think so." Because sometimes, that isn't what it feels like. It feels like he's in the war for the wrong reasons and he doesn't know how to stop it.

All the same, he nods as he shifts to get more comfortable. "Goodnight, Miss Chapel."

"Goodnight to you too, Private Winchester."

She pulls herself to her feet and heads to the door, turning down the flame in the lamp until it putters out, then giving him one more look in the dark before she heads out, softly shutting the door behind her.

civil war au } { please leave the light on for me

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