The Fallen

III : UNSETTLED

Jungkook coughed wetly, and his body tensed in pain. The deep throb radiating from his wounds racked his body. His face contorted as he coughed again, feeling a trickle of blood fall from his mouth. He stared up at the sky, lips pulled in a wry smile. So this was what dying on the battlefield was like. No glory, no fanfare; just pain and blood. Him and the lonely sky, laying on battlefield surrounded by his dead comrades. In pain, weak, alone.

He gurgled another cough, and felt the droplets of blood land on his face. He raised his hand to wipe it away, but choked a wet laugh when he saw his hand was red and wet with it already. Weakened, his arm dropped heavily to the ground and he turned his head side to side, seeing his fellow warriors lay lifeless around him. Tears pricked his eyes and he looked back up at the sky as they spilled down the side of his face, angry and sorrowful that he'd failed to keep them alive, that he'd followed their fool of a commander into a trap instead of listening to his instincts. The angels had taken them out so shamefully quickly.

"Why are you crying?"

Jungkook's body stiffened as he registered the voice coming from above him. His vision cleared as he blinked, instincts screaming to arm himself at the sudden appearance of an angel, but he was too weak to move. Despite his state, he didn't forget his training. He glanced over the angel. Pure white wings folded behind him, hair dark, curled, and long over his forehead. Eyes blue, a loose chainmail contraption over his torso held tight around his waist with belts where parchment scrolls were fastened. He saw that the angel was armed with light weapons, two daggers he could see. A sword hilt barely visible behind his head, still sheathed. His body held no aggression, his face was curious.

"Why would you care?" Jungkook huffed, his voice strained. "You just slaughtered my friends."

"I didn't," the angel replied easily, leaning down closer to him.

Jungkook thought this angel was a fool. He was in range to be stabbed - if Jungkook could manage to even hold his sword.

"I was passing through, and saw the battle."

Jungkook frowned as he glanced up at the angel, who was looking down at him funnily. Passing through behind enemy lines was a casual way to put whatever he was doing.

"Do you - do you want to die with your friends?" The angel asked him after a moment, his voice soft, almost reluctant but there was a feeling of mercy in it.

Jungkook knew what he was being offered. Hi short, surprised breath hitched in his throat and he coughed again, spluttering blood from his mouth, choking slightly and panicking.

"No," he spluttered and gasped. "I don't want to die."

He didn't. Jungkook really didn't want to die. He thought of Yoongi, of his home, of his mother waiting for him to return. He thought of all the things he still wanted to do with his life, when the war was over. He didn't want to die.

His eyes shot open as he felt the angel brush his hair back from his forehead and stared at him as a brilliant smile that should have been out of place considering where they were, and their enemy status, flashed across his face. Jungkook's heart stuttered in his chest.

"Good answer," the angel said, cupping his face. "I don't want you to die either."

Jungkook was baffled, but he couldn't take his eyes off the bewildering angel. His face was drawn in concentration as his hands moved lightly over Jungkook's skin, down from his face, over his chest, and to his gut where his wound was gaping and pumping out blood. The angel took a deep breath and then Jungkook felt the heat of angelic power pulsing into him, healing him. He could feel the warmth radiating within him, and see the strain on the angel's face as he focused.