Ruin's Hope

It had been a rough couple of days. That much even the Vatican's most feared knight was willing to admit. A fierce battle had broken out near the northernmost part of Vatican territory, and the Inquisition had been sent to quell it. Surprisingly enough, there hadn't been a single vampire among the rebels…..but they'd had the lost technology to prove that they had been involved, in some way. With a slight groan, Petros tiredly sat down on the lip of a fountain; biting back the urge to growl when the pain of his injuries reminded him of how close it had been. Even though his thick armor had shielded him from a good portion of the blasts' force, some of their damaging effects had gotten through. Every so often, he could feel some of his ribs shift under his skin; a subtle hint that they were broken.

"Godforsaken, dishonorable rebels! Would that I had the authority to hunt them down and eradicate them! But we have our orders…..and they are surprisingly lenient, considering……" Petros inwardly grumbled; as he placed his elbows on his knees and sighed. It had been quite a surprise to the Il Ruinante, and his corp. of loyal followers, that they were to simply quell the uprising, and not take it apart at the seams. Yet, before he could think any more on the subject, a sudden, crippling pain lanced through Petros' lungs…..forcing him to gasp in agony, before he felt the blood force its' way from his throat, and subsequently, his mouth. For several minutes, he could think of nothing else, save how much the coughing fit hurt. Then, when it finally began to abate, he became vaguely aware of a cool hand on his face; somehow finding the strength to lift his head and look at the one who had been bold enough to approach him. To his surprise, he found a rather familiar young nun standing there before him; concern and some fear clouding her sapphire eyes, when she saw the blood leaking from his mouth, and how painful his breathing now sounded.

"You….." Petros managed; his voice gravelly and pathetically weak; jerking somewhat when she gently placed that same soft hand to his crimson-drenched mouth to quiet him.

"You shouldn't try to talk, Brother Petros……You seem to have been seriously hurt." The nun murmured, gently, then asked, "Do you think you can stand? Father Abel and I had come out here on orders from Cardinal Caterina…..We've been staying at an inn nearby….."

"My wounds…..are not…..your concern…..girl….." Petros growled; coughing again when the effort proved too much…..yet feeling strangely mortified when the blood he choked up landed on the nun's white habit and her worried, upturned face.

"Yes they are." The nun argued, stubbornly, "I won't have the right to even call myself God's servant, if I ignore you or your wounds. Now, can you stand?" With only a reluctant nod for an answer, Petros stalwartly forced himself to his feet; his face blanching when the effort sent pain knifing through him. The nun saw this, and was quick to offer what little assistance she could, in supporting him, when she saw his knees buckle slightly from underneath him.

"Easy, Brother……take it slow. Don't push yourself." The nun said, gently, even though there was a tremble of fear in her voice for his wellbeing. For a moment, it occurred to him that he should have felt irritated or insulted by how much she seemed to be 'babying' him…..yet, in all honesty, he was grateful she had come by when she had. His wounds were turning out to be more serious than he'd thought, and the aid she offered was the only help he might get, since the hospital had been taken out by the rebels some time before.

"Sister…..Esther…..was it?" Petros asked, after a few moments of pained silence. The young nun looked up at him again and nodded. Despite there being no other words afterwards between them, the young nun understood what he'd been too proud to say; smiling softly up at him in reassurance in answer to it.

Vvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvv(divider)

Esther couldn't help but worriedly glance up at Petros as they made the return trip to the inn. Every breath he took was an agony to listen to, since almost every one was accompanied by a strangled cough that brought up more blood. And, even though he was walking on his own, for the most part, she could feel that he had put a hand on her shoulder in an unconscious effort to steady himself.

"I've got to get him back to the inn, so he can lie down, and I can see to his injuries. He can't keep going like this." Esther thought, breathing a sigh of relief when they arrived in the street where the inn was located; glad that she hadn't gotten lost, and that Petros wouldn't have to walk too much further.

"It isn't far now. Please, hang on." Esther urged, as she looked up at Petros again; her worry only growing when she saw him lean against one building to try and catch his breath, and felt it when his grip tightened minutely on her shoulder.

"Lead on…." Petros growled, making a vain effort to sound like his usual impatient, intolerant self, yet only managing to sound as weary as he truly felt. With a nod, Esther began moving forward again.

"But will I be able to handle his wounds? What if they're more serious than I can handle? What should I do then?" Esther wondered, fretfully, as she led him in the direction where the inn waited; hoping and praying that Abel would be there to help her…..and that she would have the strength to deal with what was to come, if he wasn't.

Vvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvv(divider)

It was becoming more difficult to breathe, the farther they went. Through blurring vision, Petros was able to see that they were now in what had been the tourist area before the insurrection had started; territory that the Inquisition had taken back, at great cost, just days before.

"Behind the lines…..Good choice…..The girl is learning……" Petros thought, grudgingly impressed by how much Esther had learned, since their last encounter in the line of duty.

"Almost there……Just a little further." Esther murmured, mostly to herself, as they finally got the inn in sight. Yet, he could almost sense the dismay Esther felt, when they had finally reached the inn, and she found out that Father Nightroad hadn't returned yet.

"Is there anything we can do to help, Sister?" the innkeeper asked, when he'd looked up and noticed how haggard Petros looked, and knew that he was in desperate need of help and rest.

"I need some bowls of hot water, some cloths, and all the bandages and medicine you have. And after that, I'll need some water and ice." Esther said, in response; surprising Petros with how much she seemed to know of what was needed. With brisk nods, the innkeeper and his staff began to rush around, getting what Esther had requested.

"You seem…..to know…..what you're doing." Petros said, as he allowed Esther to come alongside him and help steady him even further, as they climbed the stairs leading to the rooms the young nun and priest had reserved for themselves.

"A lot of the first aid I'd learned, was learned in Istavan…..my hometown. It was necessary…….since the bloodshed could be heavy, at times….." Esther replied, hesitantly.

"I see……" Petros mumbled, again finding himself impressed by Esther's strength in the face of such odds, as he watched her open the door closest to the stairs, and lead him into the room. It was a fairly large room, with two beds, a small table with two chairs, and an old, dilapidated vid-screen in the corner; enough evidence to prove that it was Esther, not Abel, who was controlling the finances on this trip…..a fact that made a slight smirk appear on Petros' wan features, before another ragged cough forced itself from between his lips.

"Brother Petros?" Esther asked, anxiously, as she looked up at him again with a fearful look in her eyes. Unable to answer her, Petros could only cover his mouth and try to stifle the coughing fit as best he could; hearing her utter a soft cry of alarm, when he was forced to his knees by the attack. For several long minutes, he kneeled there; choking up gore from his lungs, with a frightened nun by his side. Then, when he was finally able to stop, he found another surprise. No sooner did he stop coughing, did he feel what felt like someone wiping his mouth and face with a cloth, and saw that Esther was using her own handkerchief to cleanse them of blood.

"Brother, can you tell me how to get your armor off? I……need to see how badly your chest had been hurt….." Esther whispered, clearly frightened because of what she had just seen, yet still determined to help him, regardless. For a few moments, Petros wasn't quite sure how to take this, then painfully motioned to the sides of his chest, under the arms.

"Clasps……Have to loosen them…..to get the…..breastplate……off……" Petros explained, from between wheezes. With a nod, Esther then went to work on getting the armor off; gentle fingers carefully loosening it from around his injured chest. He allowed a sigh of relief to escape, when the breastplate finally fell free; grimacing shortly afterwards, when the pain returned full-force. After removing his tunic and the rest of his armor, Esther could clearly see what she was up against. Petros' powerfully muscled chest was covered in dark bruises, and deep cuts that had been left from the armor itself oozed blood.

"This looks bad….." Esther whispered, chewing her lip in uncertainty, as she stared at the damage, "His ribs look like they've been shattered…..and his lungs might be bruised. But….I suppose it could have been much worse."

"I foolishly……let myself…..get distracted…..The insurgents…..had a cannon……" Petros explained, painfully, as he allowed Esther to help him stand again, limp to the bed, and then lie down.

"And you had been too close to it by the time you'd noticed it, right?" Esther asked, softly, as she started feeling his ribs for the breaks she knew were there. Petros just barely suppressed the urge to wince, and nodded; his face paling even further, with every touch to his wounded ribcage. To Esther's surprise, there weren't as many broken ribs as she had feared…..though Petros' lungs still worried her.

"How badly have they been bruised? Will he be able to breathe after his ribs have been bound? And what about his heart? Is it also injured in some way?" Esther wondered, as she briefly looked at Petros' far-too-pale features, then looked aside when some of the inn's staff entered the room with what she had asked for, earlier.

"Thank you. This is a great help." Esther said, with a relieved smile in their direction.

"Think nothing of it, Sister. If you need any more help, just let us know. Okay?" one man said, amiably, as he set the bowl of hot water on the nightstand near Esther, and laid the bandages and ointment near it, so they would be in easy reach.

"Okay. Thanks again." Esther said, then returned her attention to her work. The Il Ruinante was now reclined against the head of the bed; having forced himself to sit up, when the inn staff had appeared, his pain-glazed eyes narrowed in suspicion.

"After I stabilize your ribs……you won't be able to move for a while." Esther warned, when she'd seen his tense expression, and knew that he inwardly worried about an attack when he was this vulnerable……and it was a reasonable concern, since they were still in a war zone. She got a slow nod from the knight in agreement.

"Go ahead….I can't…..exactly…..go very far…..as I am now…..either." Petros murmured; allowing her to begin treating the gashes in his chest and his broken ribs, by those words alone.

Vvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvv(divider)

By the time Esther had finished tending to Petros' injuries, the sun was sinking low in the west; painting the sky in multiple shades of red, orange, and dusky-blue. With a strained sigh, Petros slowly lay back down; growling low in his throat when any movement on his part sent stabs of pain through his chest. He jumped slightly when a cool, damp cloth touched his brow, and gave Esther an unreadable look when she again worriedly looked at him.

"You've already got such a high fever….." Esther worriedly said, as she gently brushed some strands of pale blue hair away from Petros' sweat-soaked face.

"Why do…..you care….?" Petros asked, in turn; meaning to come across abrasive, yet instead sounding only worn-out and confused (much to his frustration).

"How could I not care?" Esther replied, in kind; reminded in some ways of her conversation with Ion, not so long ago.

"I am…..Il Ruinante…..Director of…..the Inquisition…..And yet…..despite that…..you helped me." Petros whispered. Yet he was again surprised when the teenaged girl smiled kindly and warmly at him, and, without even realizing what she was doing, gently grasped his left hand in both of hers' comfortingly.

"You're a living being, Brother Petros, and a fierce defender of the faith and the innocent…… so, in a strange way, we're fighting for the same thing. We're on the same side." Esther said, gently, in answer to the knight's question. For a few moments, there was silence between them, and Esther could only wonder if she had somehow insulted the proud knight, when he looked away from her and gazed intently at the wall. She jumped when he spoke again, yet this time, his tone was softer than it had been before.

"'The same side', eh?" Petros muttered, then sighed; silently cursing his injuries and the fever they had caused, for clouding his mind to the point that he couldn't think of anything to say in response to that.

"Yes." Esther answered, honestly. As silence fell again, Esther couldn't help but notice that it seemed to be a comfortable one; watching as the injured knight finally relinquished his hold on consciousness, and drifted into exhausted slumber.

"This must be the first time in days that he's been able to lie down…..No wonder he's this sick, now." Esther mused, as she moved to re-moisten the compress on Petros' brow, and looked down when his hand tightened its' grip slightly on the fingers of her right hand; unconsciously trying to keep her close to him. At this, Esther managed a slight smile; yes, this man, in many ways, had much in common with the Earl of Memphis…..even though it would have galled him to be compared to a vampire in such a way, had he known.

"Rest easy, Brother Petros……I'm not leaving your side. I promise." Esther thought, as she gently squeezed the knight's strong hand in return; her wordless reassurance seeming to help him relax even more, and he drifted into deeper slumber moments afterwards. With that thought in mind, Esther continued her vigil over the wounded knight; determined to keep her unspoken promise to him, no matter what.

Author's Note!

Even though I still have many stories that desperately need finishing, I had started on this one in July of '08, since this had been an idea that had refused to leave me alone! Now the only question I have, is should this be a one-parter? Or should I write some more chapters? I'll let you decide!

Gemini14