Fortune Favors the Bold

25

Kalani nearly tripped over her own feet as she took another step away from the ghost that stood in the bathroom doorway. Any words she attempted to speak only slipped through as weak breaths barely comprehensible. "What are you...?" She gaped at the fully alive figure in front of her. "You died. You're supposed to be dead."

He stepped forward, trying to keep the space between them from growing any larger. "I had to disappear," Not-Castiel attempted to explain, but Kalani hardly heard anything.

She wasn't sure what label to give the emotions that coursed all throughout her body. On one hand, she was relieved that Not-Castiel wasn't dead –relieved that he hadn't died as a result of rash emotions she'd caused. On the other....

"Are you kidding me?!" She hissed silently. The entire time she'd despised herself, felt guilty for his death, cried over the untimely fate that had taken him away, he was hiding.

Hiding?

"I can explain," he began, stepping toward him again, but Kalani didn't allow him. She reached down, seizing the book she'd dropped and launching it at his forehead.

The girl was too furious to address the paleness in his normally healthy glow. She hardly felt anything at the sight of the large bloodstain covering the bottom half of his shirt. The hand that remained on his abdomen hinted toward an injury hidden beneath. An injury Kalani was too angry to care about.

Not-Castiel removed the hand he'd used to keep the door from slamming into the bathroom door and quickly caught the heavy book by its spine before it could make contact with his brow. He hardly flinched. It made Kalani even more furious as she spun around, storming out of the room before he could say anything more.

Even with his injury, the man still followed her quickly. "If you'll let me explain," he limped after her. Had he been healthy as normal, he would have easily overpowered her on the little race they engaged in and demanded her attention.

Perhaps Kalani should have slowed out of pity for his subpar figure, but the rage she felt for the man who'd allowed her to think he'd died clouded her judgment and left her body as hot fume.

"Get away from me," she seethed, turning down the hall toward the place she'd parted from Assad and Tamara. Her thoughts were no longer on the flashlight she'd promised to return with. Kalani had a far greater surprise for the two.

His cold hand latched onto her wrist before she could near the end of the hall. Not-Castiel began turning her to face him. "He thought he killed me. I had to-," but Kalani didn't care.

"Liar!" She hissed, spinning herself around using the firm grip Not-Castiel had on her forearm to propel her body's rotation. He grunted in pain when she slammed her hands into his chest, shoving him back. His body didn't put up as much of a fight as she was used to so the strength Kalani had placed into her push seemed to be far too much.

Not-Castiel's hand slipped from around her wrist and he stumbled back, crashing violently against the wall. The tension he placed into locking his jaw kept any pained sounds from seeping through. Kalani watched the way he pressed his eyes tightly shut, feeling a pang of guilt, before she turned and stormed down the opposite side of the hall.

"...wait," Not-Castiel breathed, forcing his head up to follow her path toward the elevator. He groaned and followed her. "Makoa."

She scoffed, kicking her foot aggressively into the floor beneath her when she reached the elevator. In the moment it took to separate from their level, Kalani turned to face her Pair. He approached her with a determination that, were it not for his working jaw and occasional flinches in his expression, may have hidden the fact that he was clearly injured. "Leave me alone," Kalani spat.