all there is
Mar. 6th, 2013 03:36 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
intheheartTitle: all there is
Rating: PG (one naughty word)
Summary: He does all he can, and it never feels like enough.
Warnings: for epidemic disease and death from such, child death.
AU: Apocalypse
Notes: I don't know where this came from.
The baby was crying again, batting at the red splotches all over her skin, hiccuping tears into the night. Aaron had set her to sleep in a drawer of his salvaged buearu; now he rolled out of bed and picked her up, rocking her against his chest, her skin fever-hot against his.
She was dying. The older sister who brought her in was already dead, her body burnt because there was no room for graves. Soon the baby would die too, and be burnt in her turn. Every child who came to him came already dead.
He cared for them. He cried for them. It was all he could do in the face of the disease that had already claimed everyone he loved. He didn't even know their names, most of the time.
He felt sometimes like he should keep a record. Well, he already did, but something more meaningful than baby girl, baby boy, toddler girl, teenage boy. He wrote that down, their names if he knew them, their death dates, and he felt he should write something more-- she held his hand tight while she coughed, he held his baby sister right up to the end. He wished he could give them graves, at least.
The baby went on crying in his arms, a high thin wail broken by gasping coughs.
In the dark and dying night outside, it began to rain.
Rating: PG (one naughty word)
Summary: He does all he can, and it never feels like enough.
Warnings: for epidemic disease and death from such, child death.
AU: Apocalypse
Notes: I don't know where this came from.
The baby was crying again, batting at the red splotches all over her skin, hiccuping tears into the night. Aaron had set her to sleep in a drawer of his salvaged buearu; now he rolled out of bed and picked her up, rocking her against his chest, her skin fever-hot against his.
She was dying. The older sister who brought her in was already dead, her body burnt because there was no room for graves. Soon the baby would die too, and be burnt in her turn. Every child who came to him came already dead.
He cared for them. He cried for them. It was all he could do in the face of the disease that had already claimed everyone he loved. He didn't even know their names, most of the time.
He felt sometimes like he should keep a record. Well, he already did, but something more meaningful than baby girl, baby boy, toddler girl, teenage boy. He wrote that down, their names if he knew them, their death dates, and he felt he should write something more-- she held his hand tight while she coughed, he held his baby sister right up to the end. He wished he could give them graves, at least.
The baby went on crying in his arms, a high thin wail broken by gasping coughs.
In the dark and dying night outside, it began to rain.
