After that night, she and Azriel had developed somewhat of a routine. She'd awake in the morning, and no matter how early it was, he was already gone for the day when she exited her room. She wouldn't see him again until it was dark outside, and he came in looking haggard and worn. She didn't know how to approach him or break the tension. So, she mostly kept to herself and tried to be as invisible as possible.
He was keeping her alive, which was more than he had ever owed her. She felt guilty even trying to think about trying to goad him into befriending her. He could barely look at her. It was unfair to expect or ask anything more of him. So, she kept her distance as much as she could.
The days had begun to bleed together into a mind-numbing wasteland of boredom. There was nothing to do here, and she didn't want to piss Azriel off by attempting to venture outside. She'd tried to convince him to let her come on his missions with him, but he quickly shut her down and then was pissy the rest of the night.
It would be so much easier if he would talk to her or even co-occupy a space with her. He spent every minute possible avoiding her. It was understandable, but she'd begun to go a little stir-crazy. Like talking to herself by the fire as she stared into the distance stir crazy. She was starved for human connection.
Even on the rare occasions that he was at the cabin when she was awake, he barely spoke. If she prompted him by asking questions, he'd gruff out half-assed answers that made it quite clear that he had no interest in whatever it was she was after. So, she'd pretty much given up.
She lay back on the bed staring up at the plain ceiling and pretending she was somewhere very far away. It was all she could do to keep from gouging her own eyes out.
She felt useless here. Restless. She couldn't just allow Azriel to provide for her and keep her barred in for the rest of her life. Perhaps it was what she deserved, but she didn't know how much longer she'd be able to stay sane.
A loud thud came from outside of the cabin. Her eyes grew wide as she held her breath. Slowly, she sat up and rose to her feet as silently as she possibly could. Another loud bang startled her with a small yelp. She closed her eyes tight, desperately trying to steady her breathing.
Whatever it was, she could handle it. Azriel would be back soon, and he'd help her. He wouldn't leave her here to die alone. Her mind ran wild with the ideas of what could be lurking just beyond the door. Had Maeve found them and come to finish the job?
The thought made her feel like she was going to be sick. She'd been lulled into such a false sense of security here that she'd forgotten just how in danger they both constantly were. She didn't know what to do. She just prayed Azriel had left a weapon somewhere. She knew he was too meticulous for something like that, but she still looked.
A thought scratched at the back of her brain. Some deeply hidden inkling inside of her had her walking over to the couch Azriel had been sleeping on. She bit her lip as she slowly as she reached deep into the cushions of the couch. Her hand wandered blindly, finding nothing. She sighed.
Getting on her knees, she began to feel underneath the couch. Still nothing but small bits of gathered dust. Then it hit her. She stuck her arm back underneath the couch, feeling the bottom side of the sofa. The fabric there had a small hole cut into it. She grinned, sticking her hand inside. She felt the cool metal hilt and felt a buzzing excitement in her chest.
She pulled out a dagger, looking at the ruby and emerald jeweled hilt before another loud bang at the door startled her out of her thoughts. She got her feet back under her, dropping into a fighting stance.
A low groan caught her ears just before another bang. A guttural gargling sound.
"C-callie... please," the voice whimpered. She cursed, dropping the dagger and flinging open the door. Her breath stuck in her throat, and she fought back panicked tears as she saw Azriel.
He was leaning against the door frame, barely conscious. His fighting leathers were drenched in coagulated blood. He was wheezing as if he could barely summon the strength to sift air into his lungs. There was an arrow shot through his shoulder and his wings looked borderline shredded. They leaked and dripped with his blood in the places the hyper-sensitive skin had torn.
Had he flown back here like this?
She cursed again, roughly wiping away her tears. She got the best grip on him that she could, being as gentle as possible, and began to pull him inside. She kicked the door shut with her foot and helped him to a seated position, leaning against her shoulder so he wouldn't put more pressure on his wings or on the arrow still lodged deeply in the muscle tissue of his shoulder.
He rested against her heavily, his eyes drifting closed. She swore, leaning him the best she could against the wall. She was moving entirely on instinct, making the motions before she could even understand what she was doing. She dug through the cabin's contents, grabbing a few rags and some water to try and force down his throat.
She found a small wound kit that looked like it hadn't been touched in years and was over halfway empty. Of course, Azriel would be so sure of his own skills that he wouldn't have foraged for anything to have in case he got injured.
She slammed to her knees in front of him, but he didn't even notice her. His head was nodding off, eyes almost crossed with a lack of focus as they threatened to drift shut. She leaned him back against her body, her chin resting on his shoulder.
"Azriel," she prompted him. He gave no response. "Fuck... Az, you have to stay awake. Please just try to stay awake. I know you're in pain. I'm going to do the best I can to help you, but I need you to stay awake for me."
He groaned, eyes drowsy and heavy. He blinked a few times, trying his best. He'd begun shivering. Tears were streaming down her cheeks as she panicked. She had no supplies, no help. If she didn't do something, he was going to die.
She decided to start with the arrow in his shoulder, hoping that was the only major area of blood loss. She used the dagger to saw back and forth as gently as she could, as close to his shoulder blade as possible. She had schooled herself into an unbreakable focus.
He would not die. Not on her watch.
He'd nursed her back to health when she was sick despite having every right to leave her to die. And yet, he didn't. He bathed and clothed her and found them both shelter and food. She would not allow him to die now. Not yet.
He was going in and out of consciousness, but for the moment she didn't rouse him, knowing just how painful this was about to be for him. The back of the arrow snapped off and she gripped the side at the front of his shoulder and gently pulled the arrow from his wound. Blood leaked down his chest as she did, and she thanked the gods yet again he wasn't awake to see it.
She pushed her hand down on the wound hard, attempting to stop the blood flow. She closed her eyes as she breathed, applying pressure to his shoulder. She begged for the bleeding to stop. She had no other tools, had no clue what to do.
Tears again silently poured down her cheeks, slotting into the corners of her mouth and leaving a salty aftertaste. The ache in her chest was insurmountable. She couldn't lose him. Losing him meant she was gone forever. It meant she'd never be able to fix things.
She'd never catch a glimpse of one of his shy smiles again. Never get to apologize to him. The thought threatened to crack her chest open wide for all the world to witness her wounds. His breathing was so raspy, so shallow. Her lips pressed into a hard line before she again found the courage to open her eyes.
She gasped.
Around where her hand was laid against his puncture, a faint golden glow bloomed across his skin. Her eyes were wide as she watched the sinew of his muscles cord and thread together underneath her palm. She couldn't believe what she was seeing.
The laceration had closed entirely. The skin was fresh and entirely healed. She'd never seen anything like it in her entire life. Well, as far as she knew anyway. It was mind-boggling. Deciding not to question it until after Azriel was stable, she set to work repairing his massive taloned wings. She mended the tears in the delicate flesh, piecing them back together bit by bit until they looked as they had when he'd left. He was still laid heavily against her shoulder, unconscious. She had worked up a sweat, her breathing heavier as she worked tirelessly to mend him.
She was ashamed to admit that she let him stay in her arms for a moment longer than she needed to before she gently roused him. He grumbled, wiping the sleep from his eyes. He blinked at her like he was attempting to decipher whether or not he'd gone insane.
Before he could stop himself, his hands found either side of her face, surveying her and checking her for injuries, as if she was the one who'd shown up on the doorstep half dead. He seemed bewildered. It seemed he had no idea about the healing powers she possessed, either.
"Callie," he said, so softly that she almost started crying again.
She sniffed, pulling back to wipe her eyes. He came back into himself, then, and jerked his hands quickly back into his lap.
"How are you feeling?" She asked gently.
He stared at the floor, brows furrowed and mouth slightly agape.
"You... you healed me?"
She nodded, pressing her lips in a tight line.
"Did you know you could do that?"
She shook her head. He gave a slow, unsure nod. He was trying to process this just as much as she was. She busied herself, needing to do anything with her hands to avoid seeing that look on his face again.
She grabbed the bloodied rags, tossing them in the small garbage bin they'd found in the cabin. She walked to the small bathing area, leaning over the sink with her eyes squeezed shut. She took deliberate, slow breaths, taking account of her body.
She splashed icy cold water on her face until her skin was an angry red. Then, she dried herself off and rejoined Azriel in the living area. He hadn't moved an inch. He still looked flabbergasted.
Or perhaps he was angry there was another thing she'd kept from him. She couldn't imagine that she hadn't known about her powers before her memory was wiped blank. The look on his face alone told her all she needed to know about his involvement. He'd been utterly clueless. Perhaps he'd turned up here, aware he'd probably die, but wanting her to know rather than wonder whether he'd abandoned her.
"Will you tell me what happened?" She asked, her voice small and tentative. She stood in front of him awkwardly, unsure of what to do with her body. He looked up at her.
"I was looking for Nyx. I didn't sleep last night and was careless. A guard spotted me and signaled to the others. I got attacked by around ten men. They majorly fucked up my wings and shot me through the shoulder, thinking it would suffice to put me down long enough to transport me to Maeve," he said. He sounded ashamed.
Dread filled her.
"What if they followed you-" she started to panic. She ran a hand through her hair, pacing.
"You honestly think I left any of them alive?" He couldn't even fight back the smug grin that tugged at his lips. Those pink, full lips.
"You took down ten guards... alone?" She asked incredulously.
"While injured," he corrected her with a raised eyebrow.
She glared at him. He laughed. Actually laughed. The sound sent her spine as straight as a rod. It was such a lovely sound. So Azriel. She couldn't remember hearing him laugh before. Now she'd do anything to hear it again.
She grabbed a water bottle, ushering him to the couch with her hands.
"You," she reprimanded, "need rest. You almost died. You were minutes from bleeding out." He rolled his eyes, following her command and settling himself onto the couch. He winced slightly as he moved, but he seemed to still have full mobility and enough blood to remain alive, which is all she could have asked for. Now that she knew she had a healing ability, she could learn and train to do better. But for now, this was the best she had.
He lay down on the couch with a pained huff and she disappeared into the bedroom. She re-emerged holding the blanket and pillow she'd been using on the bed. Azriel's brows furrowed, and he opened his mouth, ready to scold her.
"Don't you dare suggest I take this blanket over you right now. Lift your head," she commanded him. He glared at her but listened, nevertheless. She placed the pillow under his head and spread the blanket across his lap.
He wore an unreadable expression. Even after all this time being around no one but him, she still couldn't get a good reading on him. He was so secretive, so elusive. It drove her insane but also thrilled her.
She moved to step away, but he caught her hand. She startled under his touch, but he held on. His fingers held her delicately as if she were something fine and breakable. His thumb swiped across her knuckles a few times in a soothing gesture.
"Thank you, Callie."
She nodded, trying her best to keep her face emotionless and blank. He released her hand, and she bit back a protest. Swallowing, she started towards the bedroom.
"Get some rest, Az. I'll check on you again in a few hours." She didn't wait to make sure he heard her. She left the door open, so she'd hear if he needed anything, but she then curled up in a ball on the mattress and thought.
She was a healer. A healer who murdered her-... well, she supposed she didn't even know what he'd been to her. She'd murdered Azriel's family. How could someone with healing abilities manage to wreak such havoc and hurt so many people?
She thought until she gave herself another throbbing migraine which she slid into the grips of sleep to resolve.