Frostbite

Road of Regret

I refused to return to Kathmandu, so Wong and Stephen had graciously moved my few things to the New York sanctum. Things had been quiet since I hardly left my room unless Stephen forced the issue.

The wound in my stomach had healed so well that there was hardly a scar. Stephen had helped me get to the nearest source of water, and I had done the rest from there, letting the water cleanse and close the deep laceration. My body might have physically healed, but part of me died that night. No one ever dared to mention that monster's name in my presence, not since the first time I had nearly snapped Stephen's head off. I tried to not think of him at all.

There was a light knock on the door and Stephen let himself in. Normally I would have protested, made a snarky comment along the lines of him walking in on me at a bad time, but I didn't have it in me. His eyes bore into mine and he finally sighed, approaching the bed.

"Do you mind if I-?" he asked permission, gesturing to the spot beside me.

"Go ahead."

He carefully sat, choosing to not speak right away. Which was fine with me; I was content with the silence.

"You're not doing yourself any favors by hiding away in here," he started, clasping his hands in his lap.

I sighed, taking a deep breath before I replied, "I'm not doing anyone any favors anywhere else."

"I get that you're hurting, I do. But this path that you're going down isn't healthy. You haven't used any type of magic since-"

"I'm fine," I snapped, interrupting him. There was no reason to use it. No fights, no bad guys... so why did I need to?

"You're not. You experienced a horrible trauma, and you act like it didn't happen," he argued, turning his body to face me, "Just let us help you-"

Stephen's hand reached out to touch my arm and I flinched. He winced, realizing his mistake. I couldn't help the reaction, but it happened every time someone got too close or tried to touch me. It was just a reflex at this point; I couldn't handle it. Not after...

"Sorry, I forgot."

'It's alright," I shrugged, my voice dead and flat.

"No, it is not. At least talk to me. I think we've known one another long enough for you to at least be able to do that. Unless maybe I was wrong in thinking that we're friends," he snubbed, gazing at me expectantly.

"Of course, we are," I sighed, unamused.

"Well, friends tell each other things, unpleasant or not."

I rolled my eyes for his benefit and realized he wouldn't go away until he got his way. I ran my hand through the long curls that had finally grown back out and bit my cheek as I chose my next words.

"I'm not sure what it is you want to hear. Yeah, I messed up... I trusted the wrong person... I had my ass handed to me and then I killed him like it was as easy as breathing," I gritted, getting worked up as the words seemed to tumble out on their own accord, "I haven't seen my brother in over a year. I'm still a fugitive after almost two years. I can't go out without the fear of being seen. I found out my parents were murdered by my ex-fiancé's best friend and forgave him for it. Then I eventually forgave said fiancé. And then... I walked away- not once- but twice now. I walked away again."

My chest heaved as I finished my rant. Tears pooled in my eyes and blinked rapidly and stared straight up to prevent them from falling. The last two years had been hell and I was just so, so tired. Stephen didn't break eye contact as he mulled over my words. He hesitantly reached an arm out, waiting for the go ahead. I nodded, and he rested it around my shoulders comfortingly.

"He'll understand why you did it."

I shook my head and heaved a sigh, "Will he, though? I can't stand to face him again. Why would he still want someone who flakes at the sign of trouble?"

"You know that's not how he sees it. If we would have waited any longer, you'd be back in prison," he reminded me. My eyes drifted to my hands as I fidgeted with them anxiously.

"He came to my aid. He risked his own neck for me and had asked that I wait. And how did I thank him? By disappearing. I'd be pretty pissed," I admitted.

"You'll never know if you don't try."

Those were the same words I had said to Chase once. And now I wouldn't even fathom the idea. The shame and guilt I felt were just too much. Steve deserved better than me.

"The nightmares still come," I told him quietly, changing the subject. We had tried many different herbal teas and mixtures before bed to try and combat them, but they never worked. Almost every night I woke up drenched in sweat and out of breath. The first two weeks, I had hardly slept and had looked like a demon that had crawled out of hell itself. It had gotten a little better, but not much.

"I'll find something else for us to try. I know you've been through a great deal, but don't do this-" he gestured around the room, "to yourself. Just come practice for a bit or come to the library. Anything to get out of here."

He was right, that I knew, not that I wanted to actually say that to his face. And I knew that he knew from experience how crippling someone could be to themselves. I agreed half-heartedly, and that seemed to be enough for him for now. He rose from the bed, pulling away from me with a small smile.

"Good," he stated and without another word, he disappeared through the door.

I closed my eyes, unable to stop the images from lingering as they always did after mentioning him. The way Steve's eyes had held mine, how he had reached for me without hesitation and the kiss. That single kiss had made me feel more alive than I had in such a long time. Now look at me. The only feeling I had left was regret.