The Amethysts He Desired

Thank you to: Thyme, Arwensong and Dale for the help!

*****

Ray returned home at dusk from an endless day of business meetings. Laila took his coat and cane while Ray thumbed through the daily post. The house was quiet and neither of them spoke. Ray rested a hand on Laila's shoulder briefly, then made his way upstairs.

Nina greeted her employer with a nod and quietly left the room. Ray waited until the door closed behind her to claim her chair beside the bed. He took up Florian’s hand and squeezed it lightly, watching for any sign of recognition. Florian’s eyes remained glassy, lifeless imitations of the amethysts Ray desired.
 

*****
 

Ray’s eyes grow heavy in the dimly lit room, his mind spinning faster as his body slows. The heat from the fireplace becomes merciless desert sun and the crackle of burning wood fades into the murmur of crowds in the marketplace. Ray slumps forward, almost-empty bottle falling to the carpet.

He dreams in vivid color – every color and shade imaginable under a brilliant, cloudless sky. Every color but blue. Of that, there is only azure. It chills him when he expects it to bring comfort.

Ray’s tears slip from closed eyes onto Florian’s hand, as cold and unresponsive as stone.
 

*****
 

Ray wakes, stiff and disoriented, his body in Paris but his mind still in Morocco. There’s a blanket draped over his shoulders and a pillow under his head. He sits up slowly, wiping the sleep from his eyes left-handed because his right hand is occupied.

He stares down at it, and the pale hand that’s curled around his. Ray strokes the palm lightly with his fingertips. The hand responds by curling around his tighter – a momentary squeeze as if to say “enough”.

Ray looks into lifeless eyes but doesn’t despair. Florian is his Amethyst and Noir always gets his jewel.
 

*****
 

An ice storm keeps them housebound for three days. Ray’s too ill to notice.

He wakes up feverish, aching too much to move or open his eyes. He’s clinging to something warm and doesn’t realize that it’s returning the favor.

A gentle hand smoothes hair away from his face and presses something cool and wet against his lips. Ray takes the liquid, greedy. Finally he opens his eyes.

The fever dreams were cruel fantasies, taunting him with visions of dull-hued stones. Memories of them vanish in an instant, replaced by brilliant amethysts alight with concern. Ray smiles and falls asleep.

::end::