She shook her head on reflex, and ignored the pain from the stiffness. For once, the only thing limiting her movement was her own exhaustion and disused muscles, and she took a small measure of comfort in even that pain. It was hard to feel so much as that, when Tim was touching her again, when she could see his face after much too long.
Something about having him so close to her again had the painful over-alertness fading fast. But even her fast-blurring gaze did not soften the lines of worry or concern all over her husband's face. She wanted to reach up her free hand to smooth them away for him, but thought that might be a bit too much effort. Instead, she settled for squeezing his hand in hers and giving him a sleepy upward turn of the corners of her mouth.
"Just don't leave," she said softly, feeling a tug on her eyelids. Having him here, touching her, having him close, was starting to make her feel safe enough to let her body give up the exhaustive hyper-vigilant state to which it clung. They started to flutter close in spite of a tugging feeling in her mind, as though she were forgetting something. It had been on her thoughts just a moment before, but the drowsy haze was making it harder to—her eyes opened in a panic as her grasp on Tim's hands tightened painfully as she struggled to sit up. "Is Timothy all right? I mean—the baby—is the baby all right?"
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