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Ties that bind

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He was woken by her whimpers.

Feeling them at almost the same time he heard them, he rolled over to his right side seeking her warmth under the sheets and drew her closer. Adam sighed in contentment as her small, slight, body rounded to his tall, sleek, one. Kissing her temple he slid his hand under the pillow and dragged her infinitesimally closer to him, holding her as tight as he could to himself. If he could he would keep all harm from her, and protect her from all danger, but sadly, he could not protect her these electrical storms in her brain and it was a beast he wished he could slay with all his might.

As Eve started to toss and turn, pushed on to movement by the relentless pressure in her head, he knew all his loving caresses would not urge it onward. Wrapping her up tightly in the sheets, and covering her head lightly with another pillow before he lit a candle, he strode across the room, in pursuit of the Creature.

Bound by his creation and Creator they could neither live nor die without the other, and Adam refused to let go, especially seeing that although outwardly Eve was not as disfigured as he; inwardly her brain was diseased. She suffered tremendously from debilitating, mindless pain that Adam doubted could have been caused or prevented by the Dr. but at least he could temper his sins by helping her.

His feet slapped against the cold stone floor as he started to grow more agitated hearing Eva’s cries increase in volume. Reaching the Dr.’s bed he fitted the key into the manacle, unlocking it, as he thrust the candle into the sleeping man’s face. The glare woke the good Dr. just before Adam’s growling voice issued a command, “Up! Tend to my wife!”

Dr. Frankenstein’s pupils shrunk to pinpoints the second his eyes opened but they had been through this dance before. He got up and rubbed his face to clear his mind and started preparing his medicines. Neither man said a word to each other, neither had the need.

Eve had curled up, holding her firsts to her head, clutching fistfuls of her hair. She was quietly sobbing to herself and trying not to draw attention to how much she was hurting; Adam had a small tendency to fits of anger, not towards her, never towards her, but she didn't want him and the Dr. to fight. Not now. Her head couldn't take it.

Adam settled himself back on the bed and was stroking her back, whispering sweet nothings in her ear, and trying to help her achieve some level of distraction. The kind Dr. would be able to help, he always was able to achieve her rest, wasn't he? Untangling her hands from her hair he slowly cupped her head in his hands and tried to press on all the pounding vessels at once.

Eve was so miserable she almost wished she were dead again. Nothing seemed worth all this pain, until Adam placed her upon his lap, and stroked the side of her face with his large, warm, palm while his fingers slid rhythmically over her ear. It made her feel safe. Maybe that was worth the pain-free days. Or her memories of him kissing her. Their bodies entwining under the cliffs by the shore, the wonder on his face as he lowered it to worship her breasts…she smiled to herself for a fleeting moment, and rested her head on Adam’s shoulder.

Trepidatiously the Dr. approached with a small cup of warm tea in his hand, a piece dry cracker, and specimen dish with a cooling suppository in the other. He slowly sat down on the other side of Eve and coaxed her to have sip of tea, and a bite of cracker. Eva refused at first, she was worried she’d be sick, but after a little spoonful of sweet tea, and some encouragement from Adam, she had another, and another, and soon the liquid in the cup was gone. The bites of cracker soon followed.

Afterwards, embarrassingly, Adam helped her with the chamber pot, and tended to her since her sense of balance was gone. She’d fallen once, and he’d never left her alone after that. Eve felt quite childish about it but anytime she complained he’d given her a look that brooked no disagreement, a swift smack on the bum, and was told to behave. All this tossing and turning, tumbling in the sheets and not for the reasons either of them would have preferred, left her quite a mess, so the nearly final act of their little domestic drama involved her getting a quick sponge bath. The Dr. and Adam moved the bed as close to the fire as was safe, used deliciously warm water which was sinful in itself, and cleaned her up efficiently. If it wasn't for her blasted head Eve could have gotten used to this kind of treatment.

Her head still beat like a drummer boy was banging away, learning his lessons in the army, but she was clean, fed and watered, and drowsy. The next part she hated but they had both told her time and time again, and Adam had independently researched the truth of it, that this was really the only way to deliver relief quickest. The first few attacks she had had resulted in fighting this part of her treatment, and had ended up with her stinging butt well walloped, regardless of her head, back over Adam's lap while the Dr. inserted the medicine. Normally she felt very well educated and smart, those few times were not any of those occasions, so now she just knew better to submit but oh, the medicine and her pride still stung!
The Dr. was professionalism itself, even while parting her generous nether cheeks and pushing the slippery medicine up into her. It was a cold, odd, slippery feeling, and if she didn't rely on these men for her every comfort she didn't know how she could ever have looked them in the eye again.

“Good girl. Just take deep breaths, while that melts, and the burn should be gone soon.” Dr. Frankenstein cooed. Unconsciously the three breathed in and out together and Eve struggled not to eject the horrible medicine.

If her beloved noticed an extra musky odor in the air, he certainly restrained himself until she could enjoy the joining of their union as well. Lovely man. Adam’s baritone floated down to her from upon high, rubbing her back, as he started to recite some poetry he’d learned from a man she knew had greatly impressed him. She drifted off in the arms of Morpheus to his voice, thankful that the two could end their enmity for a while at least, even if it was due to her pain, and that she could get some rest.

“O Nightingale, that on yon bloomy Spray
Warbl'st at eeve, when all the Woods are still,
Thou with fresh hope the Lovers heart dost fill,
While the jolly hours lead on propitious May,” (Milton, To the Nightingale)