THE APPRENTICE III

2

She was in the middle of sleeping, when Wong woke Hazel up to notify her that Strange had finally gained consciousness. It took him about two days before he did so, right in the middle of the day. The cloak tugged at the sorcerer, who in turn called for the apprentice.

She twisted the doorknob and found him lying on the bed with an IV bag by it. He was pale, gaunt, and his beard was more rugged than usual. Tears immediately welled up in her eyes, and she gave him a soft embrace.

"Hi!" She muttered with a sad smile. He forced a smile on his lips in response. "I'm so glad you're okay,"

"What happened?" His voice was hoarse and his entire torso had a sharp ache to it.

"You were attacked by a beast— you and Wong were." She explained to him. She placed two pillows behind his back and aided him to sit up. His scarred hands squeezed hers for support.

"That, I remember." He nodded with a grunt and she sat by the door of his bed.

He recalled the events and lifted up the sheet. He found a horizontal scar across his torso and he frowned in confirmation. The damage done on his internal organs had to be fatal. How could he have survived that?

"But how did I make it?" He questioned and adjusted himself up. "I should have been dead,"

"The mystics are really good healers." She answered and gave him a tight-lipped smile. "How do you feel?,"

"Like I just got mauled by a beast." He divulged with a sarcastic tone. Come to think of it, he was getting more and more nauseous.

A knock came at the door and Wong creaked it open. He looked back for a second and directed his gaze towards the girl.

"Hazel, Heskit wants to see you,"

"Um, tell him I'm busy." She shook her head and clenched at the sheets a little.

How can she show her face to him, after what just happened? She was so messy, so helpless and...vulnerable. What she asked of him was too much. He shouldn't have seen her that way, he shouldn't have seen any of it. This was the first time she's ever asked for anyone's help in years, and he wasn't just anyone— he is the prince of Pentadilune. She let him see her that way. She was supposed to be strong, to be able to do anything without anyone's help.

"He says he can wait." Wong poked his head back into the room. She went silent for a little while.

"Tell him I'm asleep. Or unavailable." She looked at Wong with pleading eyes. "Make something up? Please?,"

Stephen raised a brow suspiciously. Why would she shut him out after all his help? Surely, he asked for the assistance of his own mystics from the palace. There was something about this that was not quite right.

"Okay." Wong nodded with a sigh, and shut the door.

"Did something happen between you two?" Stephen wondered and hummed. She shook her head. "Why don't you wanna see him?,"

"Nothing, I just...don't." She shrugged and stood up. She approached his IV bag to see if it had to be replaced.

"I should thank him." He asserted tentatively and observed her reaction.

"I should go then, leave you two alone for some space." She felt an itch in her throat and cleared it.

She took a deep breath to relieve it, but it only made it worse. There was a stabbing ache in her stomach that she tried to fight off by straightening her posture. Stephen breathed deeply as well. His head was getting lighter and lighter and he could feel himself salivating.

Before he could even stop himself, he hurled out a puddle of vomit all over the bed, drops of blood coming from his mouth. Hazel perked up at this and scrambled for tissues.

"Are you okay?" She gasped and took a handful of towels and soaked them in water. She got closer to the man and wiped his mouth.

"I'm okay, I can do it myself." He stiffened himself up out of shame and reached for the tissue. She put his hand down softly.

"Stay still." She whispered under her breath. She dipped the towel in water once again and pat his lips with gentleness. "Get up."

She said to him and the cloak lifted him up. She took the sheets off the bed and brought them to the hamper. She waved her hand and his bed was replaced with new ones. The cloak placed him back on the bed and she tucked him in again.

Hazel took a mop and began to clean the puke-stained floors. She took a clean rag with soap on it and wiped the floors.

"You shouldn't be doing this." He glued his eyes to the sheets, his cheeks heating up with shame and embarrassment.

"What do you mean? Cleaning puke is my favorite pastime." She had a cheeky tone in her voice and Stephen chuckled lowly.

She joined him in chuckling as she disposed of the rag. The laughing proved to be irritating for her body, making her take another deep breath to hold the itch down. Suddenly, she found herself in a violent and uncontrollable attack of coughs. Strange sat up, worried, and she waved her hand. She reached for a tissue and wiped her mouth.

He managed to sneak a glance and found the tissue to be stained with red and golden liquid. He contorted his face at this.

"Hazel, what is that?,"

"Kool-aid." She quipped with a smirk. There was no response from him, only a stern expression. "It's yours,"

"That's not mine. I saw you." He denied and slowly shook his head. "Why are you lying to me?,"

"Because it's nothing. I don't want you to worry. I just had a taxing mission yesterday, alright?" She sighed and dusted his bed to avoid his gaze. He crossed his arms.

"Hazel?" He called. She hummed. "I think you're hiding something from me, and I don't like it."

She went silent for a while and cleared her throat of the blood. She straightened herself up, getting defensive.

"Well, even if I were, there'd be no way for you to find out." She simply asserted with a more serious expression. She turned the lights off and headed for the door. "You should rest some more. I'll be back in a few hours."