Titel: The Aftermath of the storm

Sprache: Englisch

Summary: Was wäre wenn Dim-Dim Maeve nicht gerettet hätte? Was wäre wenn Sindbad Maeve gerettet hätte?

Category: Romanze

Status: Fertig

"Maeve, are you okay?" Sinbad’s query roused the sorceress, who mumbled and burrowed back into her blankets. She was cold, so very cold, and nothing seemed to be warming her up.

"Firouz, what’s wrong with her?" Sinbad asked worriedly. "Her skin is like ice!"

The scientist shook his head as the ship rocked wildly in the midst of the storm. "I know you’re not going to like this answer, Sinbad, but there’s nothing physically wrong with her. Hypothermic shock is a natural bodily reaction to extreme cold. When she fell into the water her body effectively shut down all parts of her system not necessary for survival."

"So what do we do?" The young captain sat beside Maeve on the bed and touched her hair, stiff with rapidly-freezing water. Her skin was so pale, he was afraid that there was no blood left in her system at all; that it had all turned to solid ice upon her tumble into the frigid, stormy ocean. "Help her, Firouz!" he pleaded. "She’s dying!"

Firouz looked torn. "She must be warmed up quickly, and kept warm until her system can maintain its own body temperature once more."

"How do you propose to warm her up so quickly?" Sinbad asked. Maeve’s breath rattled in her chest as if it hurt for her to breathe and she didn’t want to anymore, and her hair gleamed macabreically bright against her gray face.

"I can only think of one possible solution," Firouz said, "and you’ll have to do it on your own. She doesn’t trust anyone but you enough to let us do it."

"What?" Sinbad asked, not truly paying full attention to the scientist’s words. "I don’t care what it is; Firouz, she’s dying!"

Firouz nodded. "Then I suggest that you let her soak in a tub of hot water, captain. It’s the only way to raise her body temperature enough, fast enough."

Sinbad hesitated. "She can’t hold herself up in a tub," he said. "She’ll drown—she’s barely conscious as it is."

Firouz nodded again as he stood. "That’s why I said you’d have to help her, Sinbad, and that you were the only one she trusted."

Sinbad nodded slowly. "I see."

Firouz turned to leave the cabin, in order to give Maeve privacy. "Warm her up, Sinbad, quickly. Her life is in your hands."

*****

Sinbad touched Maeve hesitantly. Her life was in the balance, or else he would never think of doing something like this. "Please forgive me, Maeve," he whispered, his heart beating faster as he moved his hands to the laces holding her soft brown vest to her body. The knot was waterlogged and shrunken to near-impossibility, and as he fumbled with it Maeve moaned weakly and her eyes fluttered open.

"Sinbad…" she whispered, her voice weak and hoarse.

"Easy, Maeve," he murmured, touching her face gently. Her skin felt like cold marble under his fingers and fear gripped his heart again.

"What happened?"

"You fell overboard." He gazed into her sweet, starry brown eyes, holding her gaze. "Maeve, you’re freezing cold, and Firouz says we have to get you warmed up quickly. Your clothes are freezing to your skin. I have to take them off in order to warm you up. Will you let me do this?"

Maeve tensed, or would have if her muscles agreed to cooperate with her mind, but it was as if she were stranded in a great block of ice and she couldn’t get out again. Slowly, reluctantly, she nodded; realizing that Sinbad spoke truth. She could easily die from being so cold, and she knew that.

Sinbad reached out for the laces of her vest again, this time keenly aware of her eyes burning into his. Each labored breath she took made her chest rise and fall under his hands, which slowed his progress with the knot, but her finally got it undone. Slowly, ever so slowly, he unlaced the vest until it hung loosely from the sorceress’ lean frame. "Sit up?" he asked, willing his voice not to crack. He put a hand behind her back and helped her sit, realizing as he did so that the bed was soaking wet and icy cold. He couldn’t put her back here when her soak in the tub was over!

Sinbad pulled the vest gently over her head and let it fall to the floor. Her wet, white dress clung to her body and left virtually nothing to the imagination. He swallowed hard and touched the stiff, icy fabric with one finger before turning his attention to her boots and jewelry. When that was discarded in a pile on the floor, he turned his attention back to her dress. Maeve watched him the entire time, her eyes never leaving his face. He reached down and slid his hands up her thighs, his senses drinking in the silky skin, smooth and delicate under his hands. He moved higher, sliding his hands over her hips and waist, still moving higher. The fragile, frozen skin appeared, inch after inch of it. Muscles tensed below the surface of Maeve’s skin as she watched the visual trail Sinbad’s eyes followed over her body. He pulled the dress all the way off and let the soaked white material drop where it would, his eyes riveted to her body.

"What?" Maeve asked, nervous. The way Sinbad was looking at her filled her with apprehension…and something else.

Sinbad swallowed again, unable to tear his gaze from her. She didn’t have an ounce of extra flesh anywhere, and her body was in perfect proportion. Sinbad felt his body begin to tremble slightly as he gazed upon her. "Nothing, Maeve," he said, willing his voice not to come out as a hoarse croak. "By the gods, you are so beautiful!"

Maeve hadn’t the strength left to blush at her captain’s remark, but joy filled her at his words. That joy was quickly masked, however, by the state she was in. She was so tired…so cold…she couldn’t think of anything much in her present state.

Sinbad bit his lip almost till it bled and reached forward, slipping an arm underneath Maeve’s knees and another one behind her back. He lifted her as easily and as gently as if she were a newborn baby, carrying her over to the waiting tub of steaming water Firouz had provided. Lowering her in, he felt the warm water lap at his arms and he prayed it was hot enough to help Maeve. She was so vulnerable-looking, so sweet and trusting at that moment. He couldn’t help it, he reached out and touched her wet skin. It felt so soft, so silky. She opened her eyes again, gazing at Sinbad with eyes so tired and scared that his heart went out to her.

"Hang on, Maeve, please hang on," he said, taking a cup and dipping it in the hot water. He dribbled the water over her head, trying to warm up her entire body. Firouz had said something about a lot of heat escaping from the body by the head…

"Here," he said, "can you lay all the way back and put your head in the water? I’ll support you; keep your face above water."

Maeve nodded, and he slipped an arm around her shoulders, supporting her as she let her frozen hair and scalp slip under the water’s surface. She winced as her skin began to thaw; it hurt. She tried to wiggle her fingers and found that she could wiggle them. She was getting warmer.

Sinbad raised her body and let her lean against the edge of the tub again. He took his fingers and began to comb them though her curls, dark now from the water. Maeve, thawed now, breathed a deep sigh and closed her eyes. She was so tired…

"Warmer?" Sinbad asked, his voice close to her ear. She smiled sleepily and nodded. She was warm and almost perfectly content here, with Sinbad’s gentle touch and his presence beside her. She would prefer to be clothed, of course, or I would prefer Sinbad was not, she thought evilly; but she knew Sinbad had had to do what he did in order to save her life. His touch was so gentle; he treated her as if she were a precious treasure, fragile and irreplaceable.

Now he lifted her body out of the water, his own clothes becoming sopping wet as he cradled her body against him. Maeve shivered as the cool air hit her wet skin, goosebumps springing up on her arms and legs. Sinbad set her down on her already-soaked bed and wrapped a thick blanket around her, soaking up the water that beaded up on her skin.

"Hang on, I’ll grab some clothes you can wear while yours are drying." He kissed the top of her wet head and rubbed her blanket-clad shoulders gently. "I’ll be right back."

When he returned, Sinbad helped her into an extra shirt of his; the soft material long enough to cover her almost better than the dress she usually wore. "How are you feeling?" he asked, wrapping another dry blanket around her to replace the wet one he’d cast aside.

Maeve turned slightly and sleepily snuggled close to his warmth. "Still cold," she replied truthfully, "but not freezing." She yawned and closed her eyes, nestling into his arms.

Sinbad smiled slightly and tightened his grip on her body. Maeve felt right in his arms, warm and comfortable, like she belonged there. He yawned too, and picked her up again, carefully cradling her against his body. There was only one place he would take Maeve until her bed dried out.

Maeve knew she was in Sinbad’s bed the moment he set her down on the soft mattress. The whole cabin held his musky scent, and even half-asleep she reveled in the feeling of being cradled by his scent.

"Stay with me," she whispered, and he brushed a gentle kiss across her forehead.

"I wouldn’t dream of going." He slid under the blankets with her and she curled around his body, slipping an arm around his waist and leaning her head against his shoulder. Sinbad wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her close. He kissed the top of her head and rubbed her back slowly. "Feel better in the morning, Maeve," he whispered. She smiled sleepily.

"I already do," she breathed against him. He hugged her tightly for a moment before easing up and simply holding her close again. He paused for a moment before continuing. There was something he desperately wanted to tell her, but he didn’t know how she would react. Well, he thought, she was half asleep now, so there couldn’t be a better time to tell her. Maeve couldn’t hit him in her present condition. Sinbad whispered softly into her still-damp hair.

"I love you."

Maeve’s body tensed for a moment, then relaxed. She raised her head tiredly and gazed into his sea blue eyes. Sinbad had left a lamp burning, and its familiar golden light cast gentle radiance around the two. Maeve’s heart started to beat faster as the love and affection there shone through. She smiled softly.

"You jumped into the ocean, into the storm, when I fell," she said. Sinbad nodded.

"I couldn’t let you go like that," he said softly. "You mean too much to me."

Maeve snuggled deep into his warmth, a soft, contented sigh escaping her throat. She was too tired to analyze anything more just then; too tired to put up her defensive walls and doubt whether his words were true. The emotions in his eyes had been more than enough to satisfy the part of her that doubted. Sinbad tightened his embrace as he felt her tired body relax and her breathing ease and deepen in preparation for sleep. The last words to cross her lips before she fell into the comforting arms of slumber were, "I love you too."