War Paint

Healing Hearts

"I'm fine," he emphasizes seriously, although he can't hide the small wince he makes when he shifts his weight on the bed.

I shake my head viscously from left to right. "You almost died, Camillo. They found you unconscious under piles of rubble after you tried to save me. You idiot. You ran into the way of an explosion before I got to say that I love you."

There.

The words are suddenly out in the open, for both of us to hear.

At the powerful words, Camillo chokes on air a bit, covering it up with a cough, but all I can think is that I finally did it.

I have nothing to hide, and everything to offer him.

My strength, my fear, my love.

When he needs it the most.

Almost as if he can see it, Camillo's eyes glisten with his own tears.

But happy, this time, instead of sad or mad.

His voice is raspy as he says, "You don't know how long I've waited to hear you say that."

Now it's his turn to kiss me, and I don't push it away. 

"You're unbelievable, you know that?" I say, wiping my face.

"What's so unbelievable?" He asks, laughing at himself now, too. "That I'll fight wars, just to hold you in my arms? I thought you already knew that, woman."

Unexpectedly, Camillo puts his hands on my waist, carrying me up in the air until I am sitting on his lap.

"Don't -" I start, not wanting to hurt him.

"I am fine, Adeline. Just let me hold you for a bit."

Sighing, I give in, not wanting to argue with him anymore.

He bites his lip, and with the way he looks at me I've never felt so appreciated by someone, never felt so fragile and warm.

"So beautiful," he murmurs, trailing a hand down the slope of my shoulder.

I shiver, not wanting it to stop, but then Camillo comes across the piece of gauze still wrapped around my wrist, and then he notices the bandages on my knees.

He gives me a pointed look. "What is this?"

"It's nothing," I reassure him, but with once glance at his deadpan face, I could tell he didn't believe me. "It's just a scratch."

Suspicious, he frowns. "If you say so."

"Speaking of which, I need to change your bandages."

I consider the time difference between his initial injury wrappings and now, deciding that it's probably wise to check his wounds to make sure they are not infected before the skin closes properly.

Reaching over Camillo's body, I grab scissors, water, and some more wrap-bandages from the nursing tray next to me carefully so that I don't put any pressure on his ribcage.

"Take off your shirt," I direct, opening up the bottle of disinfectant.

Eyeing the equipment in my hands, Camillo seems uneasy with me handling his injuries. "I don't think that's the best idea -"

"What's the matter?" I asks seriously, not sure why Camillo is acting nervous. "Does blood bother you?"

He's too quiet, and now it's my turn to be suspicious. I lean forward and press my lips together. "You're a soldier, you know."