Blind

Dirt and cold air seared the wound across his back and forced him to grind his teeth as he stumbled, weariness bowing his shoulders as he took uncertain steps toward the shelter that he and that pathetic worm had scouted earlier that day. He didn't know where she was, told himself that he didn't rightly care when it came down to it, but he was going to need help cleaning and dressing his torso unless he wanted to die of blood loss and infection. The knowledge of that burned his pride, but in a twisted way, he could be mockingly thankful that it would be an agent of Aquios who would tend him.

Dragging the back of his hand across his traitorous eyes as they blurred, he hissed out a breath and wished he hadn't. The effort made his chest explode with pain, and finally, he had to admit to himself that he could very possibly be dying. If the red-haired wench wasn't waiting in the miserable hollow that he expected her to be, he might just prop himself against the wall and let his blood run until it stopped.

Pale lips curving slightly in appreciation of the morbid image, Albel allowed himself a rasping chuckle as his knees gave way and he fell, shifting his body so that he at least hit a rock and remained partially upright. Somehow, he had always known that in the end, he would die utterly alone, but he had never imagined in all his years that he would do it on his knees.

He wet his lips and forced bent metal fingers against jagged stone, trying to push himself to his feet once more. It was beautifully ironic that he was only yards away from the entrance to what could save his life, and even in his state, he found it darkly amusing. Tilting his head back, he opened his mouth despite his cracked jaw and forced himself to smile widely, determined to die with the same haughty disregard he applied everything else.

His prosthetic palm scraped across the rock, shrieking shrilly as it slipped forward and finally clattered to the ground, leaving behind a piteous, burned stump of an arm. His body crashed into the rock without the support, and despite his best efforts, he could feel the backs of his eyes stinging even as darkness started to close around him.

"Damn it-" Even as he forced the words past bloodied lips he hit the ground, the impact robbing him of the little air he had been able to gather in his lungs. Tears cut down his cheeks and he fought desperately against the urge to curl in on himself, clinging with the last tattered shreds of his conscious to anger. Awkward fingers pushed pebbles aside as they sought for his gauntlet, and even when he began to hyperventilate, he refused to simply fall away.

Abruptly he felt something warm grip his sides, and he heard a distant voice mumbling in a language he couldn't understand. His body was jostled until he could feel raindrops falling on his face, and though he couldn't see them, he was grateful for the veil they would provide. If someone had to bear witness to his final moments, he didn't want them to see weakness.

Sight came back to him slowly and he was confused. Surely there was no such thing as an afterlife; he had never believed in one, and would not suffer the judgment of a celestial being whose existence he would not acknowledge. When the garbled, foreign noises began to form words that he knew, spoken in a tongue he could never forget, he realized that he wasn't dying after all. He was coming back.

The numbness that had been granted him those final seconds ebbed away and left him aching as though his entire body was one raw, open wound. Heat pulsed from whatever he was being supported by, conflicting oddly with the bitter cold of rain slicking the top of him.

"If you die, I'll kill you." It was the first sentence that he heard clearly, and his stomach took a quick dive when he recognized the biting tone as belonging to Nel. It was quickly forgotten that he preferred her to all the others; temper, blinding and controlling, seized him and shoved humiliation into the depths.

"That would be--a pitiful--waste of your time, worm." He hated how weak his voice was, and as he struggled to lift himself, her hardened hands pushed down on his shoulders and kept him in place. He swore loudly and repeated his attempt, finding his arm stronger this time as a wave of heat washed over him.

"Stay still, you idiot! You're dying!"

Her fingers dug into him and held him against her lap, and his body, spent beyond human limits, finally abandoned him. He couldn't even protest as he fell limply, too tired to even speak, but he sought her eyes when she leaned over him.

Nel's narrowed in response and she muttered, "Don't look at me as though I've offended you. I just saved your life."

For the third time, he felt himself begin to warm, and he belatedly realized she was using runology. The thought had his skin itching, but he shoved the childish phobia aside and turned his head, cheek pressing against the hot strips of symbols decorating her thighs.

As she cast magic on him his mind sharpened, and he realized that underneath the rain, he could hear her labored breathing. Her fingers trembled against his throat, and he suddenly jerked his head to the side, realizing what she was doing. "Idiot--! Stop!"

She didn't resist when he all but threw himself off her, catching his weight on one hand and tossing her a scorching look over his shoulder. She had slipped back, mouth slightly open and chest heaving, and he knew she was teetering dangerously on the edge of unconscious.

"Stupid, foolish woman!" Forgetting his pride, he walked to her on his knees and fell harshly against the rock, body shielding her slightly from the rain. He reached underneath her, movements almost frenzied as he ripped her supply pack from under her and fumbled with its ties.

It was difficult to do with one hand, but he somehow managed to get his fingers inside, and he grabbed a handful of berries, not caring if they were blue or black. The dirt on his hand coated them with wet filth, but he pressed them to her mouth regardless. She frowned but attempted to chew them, not nearly fast enough for Albel's liking. He gripped her chin almost painfully and forced her mouth up and down until she finally swallowed.

Color bloomed into her face once more and she reached up with an irritated hand to slap his away. His eyes, which had only moments before been wide and nearly frantic, cooled and hooded.

Blood slipped from the corner of her mouth and his heart stopped until she smeared it across her cheek and snapped, "You made me chew my tongue, Nox!"

He stared at her blankly for a moment before relief swelled inside of him and his shoulders sagged. Despite himself, a laugh escaped him, and he leaned back, swinging away from her as if on hinges.

"You fool. You incredible, stupid fool."

"What?" It was amazing she could still be riled, even after they had both almost died.

He shook his head and reached for his gauntlet, but before he could get it, she had picked it up, saying as she did, "It needs to be fixed."

With a strange feeling forming in his stomach that wasn't shame but wasn't quite anger either, he watched her remove a small hammer and begin to carefully pound the metal back into a rough semblance of what it had been. Wordlessly, he watched her slide across the now muddy earth and begin to fit it back in place. She did a poor job, but not as bad of one as he might have, and he flexed his hand experimentally.

The metal ground and moved stiffly, but it still moved. She turned away, clearly not expecting gratitude, when he said quietly, "Thank you."

Her shoulders stiffened and without looking at him she responded, "You're welcome."

The rain fell heavily on two silent figures as they trekked their way through the mountains toward a place neither could quite call home.

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For a good friend, Lauren; I'm glad you liked it, and I hope others enjoy it too. Sorry it's a little late, but happy holidays all the same.