DOOM SAGA I - I'll be home tomorrow

Broken hearted

Argent d'Nur

"NO!", she screamed and jumped at him.
Reluctantly he dodged her hits at best as he could, though the deadening pain in his chest grew with every move. To his demise, she was strong and fast, and the blackness that took his vision in and out made him stumble unwillingly.
"I won't stop! Because they won't stop either!", she yelled at him landing a combination on his upper body and ending with one straight to his chin. She waited for him to do something as well, circling him steadily.
"They will never stop, and you know that! You've fought these monsters, you've killed them and yet they are alive! You saved everyone! Everyone but me!"
This time he was prepared and was able to balance the flurry of blows precisely. Yet he did not attack himself. Would it make her even angrier, or would it stop her? Or would he hurt her even?
"But I don't know why I'm here or who you are! I don't know where I am or who these people are! But I know that everything feels wrong and still, I feel wrong as well!", her voice broke in the screech and for a moment she let go of her stance and flailed her arms along her words. He paced forwards in an attempt to bring her down without too much harm.

Breathe, in and out, and again, and again. Her hands clutched tighter at the rim of the sink and the cold of the floor made her shiver as she stood barefoot. She blinked slowly as she stared at the running water absent-mindedly, her consciousness not fully awakened yet.
The Slayer, they had...fought?
She tried to remember, but all she got were flashes of moments from a few hours ago. She had jumped at him, wrestled, and hit the sandy floor many times, but... why?
Why had she fought so angrily, and why wasn't she feeling any of it right now? Her body was numb, but nothing hurt. Still, one spot bothered her. She raised her hand to the stitching and carefully touched it as the itch was becoming worse by the minute. No hurt, just itch.
She groaned, wanting to rip it open to stop it, but held back.
Did she hurt him? Could she even? Was it just for training, or was it more?
She dumped a washcloth into the warm water to clean the wound as Zila had told her, but as she raised it to her head she didn't know where to start. Her hair was tangled and a true mess, and she worried it got infected again.
She had warned him. And she had been so angry. Had it happened again?
Her shaking fingertips hovered at the corner of the sheet that was hung over the mirror above the sink, and as she lifted just a few centimetres, the reflection of her hand made her shudder in fright, letting it fall back again.
If it has happened... what had he done to stop her?
She moaned. She had to do it without. She quickly refreshed the washcloth and began dabbing it onto where she thought her wound was, and drops of water ran through her hair and dripped off her eyebrow as she bend over the sink. At least it did not sting in pain, she thought.
Blood... his blood... she remembered its heat and taste. What had she done?
Her hand, stopped in mid-air, was flooded with warmth as another laid on top of hers, and a large body softly pressed her against the counter, not too much to harm, but enough to detain her.
He must abhor her.

He grunted in pain as he pressed her against his body, the bear hug from behind in full force as she kicked the air furiously. He ignored the blood colouring his sight in a deep red as it dripped off his brow and tightened his jaw until his teeth crunched. He needed to hold out for a little longer.
"I just... don't know when I will be back home... It's already spring...! Spring! What if they've forgotten about me...? What if I have nothing to return to... And then you left me as well, like I mean nothing... nothing to you...!", her grip relaxed.
"I don't fucking know anything... I don't know even know--", she shook as she began to sob.
"I DON'T EVEN KNOW IF I'M ALIVE!", she screamed and with a burst of power she broke from his arms, grabbing his neck and swinging him over and to the floor. They rolled tangled up through the sands as he had managed to snatch onto her as well, this whole mess ending up with him on top of her, wrists clasped tightly.

She let go of the cloth and he grabbed her face from behind, firmly holding it, and began cleaning the stitches, parting her hair correctly bit by bit, pulling strands away that were tangled in the staples, that were barely holding onto her skin anymore.
Had he been too rough to her, he wondered, but as the crud was vanishing it revealed a silvery-skinned scar underneath. She was standing stiff as he moved her, and he felt the light shaking throughout her body. He had tried not to hurt her.
He picked off the pieces of thread that had dissolved already and thought about what he should do with the rest. It seemed fully healed. He plugged the staples easily as they were nearly pushed out of her skin already, leaving only tiny red dots behind. It was strange. Not like a closed cut or even the first pinkish scar tissue, but like a months-old wound.
His eyebrows rose as it came to him, and he turned her around swiftly and sat her on the countertop. She squirmed under his grasp as he let his thumb run over her nose and cheek and down to her throat. Her trembling hands were frightfully holding onto his wrists as he examined her, and he understood that after all that had happened, she was expecting something different from him. He sighed quietly. Even under the light stain of red that had not yet been washed off, he could see that all the discoloured patches were gone just like the swelling, and the purplish ring around her neck had disappeared as well. She was healed, and he wondered if she had even known how bad she had looked the last few days. Maybe it was better this way.
He watched her fearful eyes that didn't dare to stay open for longer than a heartbeat, and her quivering lips as she did her best to keep it together. She was hurt, but not from the fight, he thought. She had been hurt, even before they had started. And maybe even before that night, after all. His thumb kept caressing her chin, waiting for her to calm down, and his mind began to wander.

His chest heaved strenuously as he gaped down at her, her eyes blinking dazzled but he kept her hands locked. The glow that still shined from her eyes was eerie along the little bolts of lightning that flowed down her cheeks. He could feel it; its powers were tremendous, and his own body seemed to resonate with it. She glared at him, angered but also confused, luckily she didn't resist him anymore. Her small frame buckled under him as she moaned, and her eyes rolled into her head a few times pained. She dug her head into the floor and stretched her chin into the air as a soft trickle stained the purity of the light, making it fade.
"I--!", he started as a swell of blood spurt from his mouth. He coughed bitterly, gasping for air as his muscles gave way. The last thing he remembered was the dark mark of her bloody tears, her dwindling eyes wide open in worry and pain as he had fallen to the side.

The touch of her hand on his cheek made him flinch as he was pulled back to reality. She gaped at him worried.
"I hurt you... didn't I?", she whispered as her eyes welled up, and he now wonder how bad he looked right now. He had woken up just minutes before her and had hardly managed to get up from the bed. With every breath he felt his broken ribs move, and wouldn't he be still high on whatever they gave him, he would want to scream in anger and pain.
"No...", he softly answered.
"Don't you worry about me.", he smiled dazed and held her hand as she began sniffling.
"How should these tiny hands hurt me ever?"
He kissed her knuckles and giggled amused in the hope to brighten her mood.
"Stop lying...!", she sobbed and her hand reached for his chest, making him flinch.
"I had worse.", he grunted.
"Way worse. It will heal in no time."
It was one part true, and one part lie. He has had worse injuries before, and yet they had never been caused by another human being. His eyebrows furrowed at an irritating thought; if she even was human after all?
Carefully she came closer and leaned her head against his sternum in a cautious embrace. He still breathed heavily but knowing that she was all right now soothed his nerves more than any drug ever could. Why would it even matter to him what she was as long as he knew who she was?
"I'm sorry, Io. I'm not good at keeping things alive... Never been.", he mumbled and stroked her head as his heart ached.
"I missed you!", he whispered and felt her body stiffen before she pressed herself even harder against him.
"I missed you too!", she squeaked and he puffed.
He wanted to ask, but it wasn't the time, he knew. And even more, he wanted to relish this moment, the quietness. He felt it, the fear it might be the last time. Without a doubt, he would fight for it, for the time with her.
"I know it's in vain to ask of you to run away from danger in the future, isn't it?", he asked and she didn't even answer.
"Then we have to make sure that you're not the one ending up on the bottom next time."
With still shy eyes she peeked up at him, and he could see a glimmer alive in them. The corner of his lips slightly quirked upwards before he brushed some hair from her forehead and kissed it.
"But first you need a shower."