Till Death

Chapter Sixteen: The Quiet

Jamie was supposed to be dead. She should have been dead. Why the fuck wasn't she? But—thank the ancestors she wasn't. What had happened since her throat was slit was a haze of noise and blurry visuals. The healing potion flavor was the only familiarity she could recognize in the never ending blurs. It had sealed the wounds, but it had not been able to replace the blood she lost. Everything, magic made or not, had limitations.

Her body shook from the cold of her surroundings as a consistently squeaky wheel announced itself from what she assumed was a hospital bed. Air rushed past and pain stabbed into her arm. I.v's, this was a hospital for sure.

"Fae aren't like werewolves, if you had given her the blood that you have, it could have killed her. Thank you for calling the counsel about the situation, your aid in saving her life will be reflected positively on the werewolves," a familiar voice stated as countless footsteps continued around her.

'Father?'

"One fae won't be enough to replace the blood she lost, it'll endanger your life to give to her what she needs," a low voice said gravely. "I hope more are going to come?"

"Yes, they're going through security now. If there's any hold - up's it's on your kind, not on mine," her father said with a hint of annoyance in his tone.

Rory's snarl broke through the haze of noise. "I'll go see what the hold-up is and bust some heads if I need to."

Chuckling weakly, Jamie lolled her head to the side and fell back into silence.

When she woke, her vision was much clearer. Two I.V's were attached to her arm. One was full of crimson while the other had clear liquid of some kind.

Rory's head and arms were on the edge of the bed. Light snoring proceeded from beneath the haphazard curls that splayed across the sheets.

How long had Jamie been out? It looked as though it was night outside, but she had a feeling morning had already come and gone before the moon had risen into the sky once more.

Reaching out with her unbound hand, she ran her hands through the kinky fluff on her wife's head.

Rory stirred, looking up with half-lidded eyes. She gave a sloppy smile. "Good evening, gorgeous. You slept very soundly. I almost thought you died again."

"That's probably the heaviest I've slept in years," Jamie said quietly. It wasn't often with all the spiritual activity that she found herself in peaceful slumber. Her dreams were always littered with visions and relived deaths.

"The beauty sleep does wonders," Rory said stroking Jamie's cheek. "You've mesmerized me with rising to a level twelve." She climbed onto the bed, openly her eyes widely. "Now my eyes will never be able to close until they dry out and fall from my sockets."

Jamie snorted. "I would prefer you blinked and kept your eyes, they're one of your best features."

"I thought you liked my muscles and scars best." Rory kissed from Jamie's fingers, up her arm and to her neck. "I'm so glad to see you awake. You're looking much less like a dull silver and more like your Christmas ornament self."

It was odd to be in fae form, but Jamie supposed her body had chosen to switch to focus on maintaining less things. A wave of unease washed over her as Jamie tugged at the short nightgown on her body. She didn't feel comfortable being like this in front of anyone but Rory. How many nurses and doctors had seen her? Reaching up, she touched the tips of her pointed ears. Being in her true form was worse than being naked in a field of strangers.

Rory seemed to catch her unease and grabbed her hand in between hers and patted it. "Most of who's been looking out for you is staff from the fae hospital. Your father brought them over to assure you were taken care of correctly. I don't know if that helps, but they're the only ones who have seen you aside from the paramedic's."