Well, I've returned to the Night World fandom after a long break! This was a little idea I had that demanded to be written, so I've done it all in one sitting. Not much else to say really, other than enjoy and let me know what you think!
Oh, and a quick hello to any of the L. J. Smith site forumites!
Rashel didn't even notice the cut at first. It had been four weeks since she and Quinn had approached Lord Thierry Descouedres for sanctuary and employment. The Lord of the Night World had looked quizzical to say the least when Quinn, of all people, turned up with a human soulmate, but he'd taken them in none the less and made sure Nyala and Timmy had the best care available to them.
Then the three of them had started working on their idea. The fighting arm of Circle Daybreak. Turns out, they weren't as sunshine and daisies as Rashel had first thought. Thierry had a few small units already put together. Not specifically combat-oriented, but they could more than handle themselves if need be. They seemed to be sent out on extraction missions, acting as escorts, bodyguards, things like that.
It was something to work with, at least. What neither of them had realised at the time was just how official Circle Daybreak was – which is why they had both stared in confusion when some assistant or another had turned up at their room in Thierry's mansion and dumped a load of paperwork on the coffee table.
That was why they found themselves sprawled out on the large sofa, legs crossed over each other, reading through health and safety forms (they'd both laughed at that), various legal documents that they had to study hard to even understand, and disclaimers that they accepted the risks of going up against various angry supernatural creatures.
Rashel scribbled her name across the umpteenth document and slung it aside onto the floor. She felt the corner catch skin and whipped her hand back, hissing automatically before she felt pain. She glanced at the white line along the length of her index finger, nodding when Quinn mentally prodded her to see if she was okay, and went back to work.
It was a couple of seconds later when Quinn lifted his head up and lowered his own sheaf of papers, frowning slightly and sniffing. 'Did you cut yourself?'
Rashel looked up, only half focusing. 'Hm? No, I-' She lifted her hand to prove it, and saw the blood trickling from the paper cut and the red fingerprints on her paper. 'Oh. Apparently I did.' She considered it for a moment, looking around for something to wipe it on that wasn't the furniture or her new clothes, then her eyes landed on Quinn. Taking a second to think how different things were just a few weeks ago, she held her hand out. 'Want it?'
He raised an eyebrow, staring at her. 'Seriously?'
Rashel shrugged. 'Either you or a tissue.'
He snorted. 'I'm flattered.' Still he sat up and leaned forward, taking care not to move too quickly. She noticed his teeth were barely sharp as he popped her finger into his mouth, and suppressed a smile. They might be soulmates, but they both had years of ingrained training behind them that said that this bond was unnatural. Rashel had to take a slow breath to stop the jolt of nerves and her instinctive recoil from a vampire's mouth. Quinn, for his part, tried to make it easier by being as non-threatening as possible and by feeding away from her. They were little roadblocks, but they'd move past them eventually. Rashel wasn't sure if she'd ever be comfortable being bitten, despite the lack of pain last time, but that would just be something they found out. They'd only been together for four weeks. They, hopefully, had a lifetime to learn each other and adapt.
She lost her train of thought completely when Quinn's tongue brushed against her finger, a very different jolt running through her. Flushing, she sneaked a glance at him to see if he'd done it on purpose. He was still reading his files over her hand, oblivious, but as she watched he paused and his eyes slid over to her. She tried to shove the blush down, but too late. His mouth curved around her finger in a crafty smile and his tongue returned; a slow, deliberate stroke that had the colour rushing back to her face.
John Quinn...
It was a warning, but damn her if there wasn't a hint of invitation there as well.
She could feel the smugness rolling off him in waves as he replied. Yes? Far too innocent for his actions.
You -
The door, left ajar, glided open as the assistant returned, backing into the room with another armful of boxes. Rashel sat up so fast she yanked her hand away from Quinn almost before he could direct it away from his teeth. Luckily she had a very quick soulmate, and her hand escaped unscathed. She jammed it under her leg as if she were hiding it.
The assistant turned round, smiling. 'Right, here's the las-' He paused, assessing them. Rashel, beet red and ramrod straight, Quinn lounging on the sofa and grinning at her. 'Am I interrupting...?'
Quinn smirked. 'Not at all. Rashel just got a paper cut. You can put them there,' he said, nodding at an empty space by the low table. The assistant nodded, but Rashel noticed he bustled in and out very quickly, closing the door behind him.
She glared daggers at her soulmate. You are so dead when we get to the sparring ring.
He smiled, the obscenely cheerful expression strange on his face. Technically, I'm so dead now.
Rashel smacked his leg since it was in easy reach, thinking it was completely unfair how attractive he was when he laughed freely like that.
Consciousness came faster than she expected. One second she was completely unaware of everything around her, the next she could feel the air con on her face, the bed underneath her, and the stiffness of her body.
Lying flat. Infirmary then. Stiff but no pain from the painkillers. She twitched her fingers, felt the tiny weight of a canular in her hand. That bad, then.
Taking a slow, deep breath to see if she had any damaged ribs – one, maybe two complained enough to be cracked – Rashel eased her eyes open.
Daylight. Curtain rails, but the curtains were pulled back. She wiggled her toes, saw them shift under the blanket. Her right leg was bigger than the other – a splint, from the feel of it. She slowly rolled her head on the pillow to the side.
Quinn, watching her, barely hidden worry in his eyes. Funny how expressive they'd become, when he used to blank his emotions out so well before. What a change seven... eight? Eight months made. She could see the edge of a fresh scar poking out just above his collar.
Her hand was stinging slightly. Frowning, she lifted it up so she could see it. Her knuckles were split, one of the scabs lifting away and fresh blood seeping out from beneath it. Her experimental flex must have cracked it open again.
Lips twitching, she looked back at Quinn and held her hand out. 'Want it?' Her voice rasped.
That finally washed away the look of stifled panic in his eyes before he closed them in relief, smiling. He took her hand but ignored the blood, kissing the back of it above the canular then just holding on, head bowed.
Rashel watched him. 'Are you praying?' Not surprised or judgemental. Just curious. He was the son of a minister, she realised. Chances are the human John Quinn was a religious man. Maybe he still was.
He looked up, his face drawn, eyes tired. 'I haven't for a long time. Not until now.' He gently brushed her hair back with his free hand, so light she barely felt it. 'How're you feeling?'
The sense of soft peace dissipated as Rashel grimaced, reassessing her injuries. 'Not as bad as Keller when she pulled this kind of stunt. You'd think I would've learned to duck dragon tails.'
She remembered now, getting the warning that a dragon was approaching Harmony. Everyone rushing out to meet it, to stop it from getting close.
Her sister – it was still so strange to think that – had not long since recovered from the last dragon fight, but she and Galen were there in the thick of it regardless. Rashel turned to glance at the bed on her other side to double check this wasn't a repeat of the last time. It wasn't, thankfully. That time she'd gone down during the clean-up, after the first dragon in the paradise had fallen. She and Quinn had made sure Keller was being treated, then ran back out into the fray to deal with the other dragons emerging now that they knew an attack was being launched.
It was the third dragon that had got her then. Tiring after three skirmishes – she was used to fast, lethal fights over in seconds, not full-fledged battles – she'd just misjudged the dragon's tail, lashing in frustration and agony while Quinn attacked its eyes. It had smacked her several metres away and out cold. She'd woken up in the infirmary to a pacing Quinn, Galen trying to reassure him from where he sat beside Keller's empty bay. She'd still been in surgery.
This time it looked like she was the only one badly hurt, though she knew some people had died. She turned back to Quinn, wincing as her neck clicked and her shoulder muscles tightened. 'What's the damage?'
He sighed, rubbing the back of his neck with his free hand. 'Three of ours dead, several human civilians who got caught in the crossfire. You, then a bunch of minor injuries the witches took care of hours ago. You got a shattered femur,' he nodded at the bulky lump under her covers, 'two cracked ribs, and a cracked skull along with concussion.' That explained the hazy, floaty feeling she had. That or the painkillers. 'The witches have done a good job, but they've still said you're not to put any weight through that leg for a week or two, and they're keeping you in for a few days for observation after that blow to the head.'
Rashel grumbled. She hated bed rest. Quinn squeezed her hand to get her attention. She felt the dried blood on her hand crack slightly.
'Two weeks isn't that long. And I'd prefer you stuck in here for a couple of weeks than downstairs in the morgue with the other bodies,' he said. His words sounded harsh, but beneath them and the stern facade he'd put up, she could feel the panic roiling in him at the thought of it.
Rashel sighed, squeezing his fingers back. 'I know. I'm just thinking of all the catching up I'll have to do once I'm cleared for training. Muscle deteriorates quickly, you know.'
His grip eased slightly, and she felt him reigning himself in, softening. 'I know, but you'll manage. Between myself and Keller, you'll be back in shape in no time,' he said, finding a smile somewhere.
Rashel chuckled, then winced. 'Literally in here.'
'So even less reason to complain,' he said, smile widening when she groaned at him.
He turned his head towards the door and Rashel lifted her head to see it, both of them hearing the 'click-click-click' of solid heels approaching.
The infirmary door swung open and Keller strode in, Galen just behind her. She had a few scratches that Rashel could see, and was limping slightly, but seemed otherwise unharmed. She smiled when she saw Rashel awake. 'Your turn this time?'
Rashel grinned. 'Looks like. I'm on strict orders to behave myself for a few weeks. Which means staying in bed, apparently.'
To her credit, Keller grimaces in sympathy. Her own sojourn in the infirmary was a lot longer. 'Your hands working?'
Her right one is, and Quinn's still holding it and looking completely unashamed about it at that. Rashel lifts her left and wiggles her fingers to test it. 'Yep.'
Keller grabs a chair and swings it around to sit on it back-to-front. 'Then get some books or something. Time really drags in here.' There is a brief pause where they all wait to see if anyone will make the obvious joke or not, then they as a group let it pass. Time jokes are only funny for so long in a time-slowed place like this.
'Will do. Or rather, Quinn will,' she said, turning to smile at him.
He chuckled. 'Your butler now, am I?'
'While I'm an invalid? Yes.' She smiles fondly at him before looking back to find Keller and Galen smirking at each other.
There are downsides to having a sister. Imminent teasing is one of them.
She and Keller have got a bit better at their own nonverbal communication. Not a word, kitten. Her – their mother's nickname seemed rather appropriate, all things considered. Rashel had started using it when Keller pushed her luck, and it had stuck.
The werepanther's eyes narrowed, but she grinned and stayed quiet. No doubt she'll have fun with it later.
Rashel stretched and winced, then started feeling around for the bed controls. Craning her neck to see her visitors was rapidly becoming uncomfortable. She lifts the head of the bed up so she's sat up and Quinn borrows more pillows from the empty bed behind him to help prop her up. Settling more comfortably, Rashel prods at her bandaged ribs. 'What happened, anyway? Last thing I remember is running out of shuriken.' That must be the concussion the healers were worried about. There were odd little snatches of memory, but nothing concrete after that bar the tail flying at her.
Galen grinned. 'As the people who saw it are saying, you 'pulled a Keller'.'
Rashel stares. 'Wait, really?'
She got three nods. Quinn looked a little peeved. 'You could have warned me. I only knew what had happened when I saw Keller run up the dragon's back twice, then realised she hadn't been thrown off the first time.'
Keller scoffed. 'If the three-horn couldn't do it when half of my bones were broken, that four-horn had no chance.'
Rashel shrugged at him, clueless. 'Sorry? I don't remember it. I honestly shifted?' More nods.
That was... surprising. She'd only managed it a couple of times before, and to do it in the midst of battle...
Wait.
'What happened to my sword?' She wouldn't have used it. The most she could have done was poke the dragon in the eye with it, but she knew she'd had it on her when the alarm went out.
Quinn stooped down, twisting to avoid smacking his head on the side of her bed. When he straightened, he had her bokken in his hand. It was a little scuffed, and there were a few specks of mud still stuck along the side of the sheath. 'The dragon tried to bite you in half. You used your staff to buy yourself enough time to dodge it, and the dragon splintered it. After that you put this aside and went for your knife instead. Next thing I saw, you had fur and claws.'
Rashel felt a small pang at the loss of her bo staff, but put it aside. Better the staff than her back. She'd only used it to get enough height to aim at the dragon's face anyway.
'You brought your knife with you onto the dragon's head,' Keller added. 'Shifted back and used the steel part to cut through the sheath before going for the inner horn with your teeth.'
'It worked for two of them. The dragon threw you off when you were cutting through the third one. That's when it hit you,' Galen said, gesturing at her various injuries.
Rashel winced. That part she remembered. She had still been on her knees – probably right after she'd landed, actually. She remembered her leg in agony – must have been when she shattered it. All she actually recalled was being on her hands and knees, trying to ease up off her right knee, looking up and seeing scales. She'd lunged backward, but not fast enough. She'd just opened herself up to a full-body blow to the torso.
'And my head?' She asked, touching her forehead and feeling coarse bandages in place of her usual ninja headband.
'You hit the ground head-first after going airborne.' She caught glimpses of the moment from Quinn and cringed – not at the impact, which looked nasty, but at the remembered terror lacing the memories. Seeing her bad landing and the way her body stiffened as her leg shattered. Starting to run towards her, then seeing the dragon tail swinging around at her. The crunch as it caught her in the middle and threw her three metres. The way her head cracked against the ground and her whole body went floppy. How he hadn't reached her in time to stop it.
Sorry, she thought, running her thumb over his knuckles. She hadn't meant to put him through that. He squeezed her fingers in forgiveness, but she could feel the guilt still lingering. Hey. Not your fault, OK? Blame the dragon. The dead dragon.
His mouth thinned. I should have been more aware of what you were doing. I'm your soulmate, I'm supposed to keep you safe.
Rashel looked down at their hands, running her thumb over the bones in the back of his hand. And we're the leaders of Circle Daybreak's combat arm. It's not our job to stay safe. Besides, she tries for some levity. She prefers him smiling to scowling. If that's the criteria for soulmates, we're both terrible at our jobs. Remember when I accidentally cracked you over the head during training?
His lips finally quirked up at the corners. I was trying to sneak up on you, he pointed out, but she could feel some of the tension draining away. He'd not put the matter to rest, but it was something they could talk about later, when they were alone.
Rashel turned back to their visitors, found Keller and Galen engaged in their own silent discussion. They smiled and broke it off as soon as they had her attention though, so Rashel guessed they'd been doing their best to give herself and Quinn some privacy. She appreciated it.
The conversation was easier then, lighter. They stuck to small talk and daft stories. Despite the routine being familiar from Keller's recovery, they still had tales to tell. It helped pass the time until the healers came in to chase her sister and future brother-in-law out so Rashel could rest. They took one look at Quinn, saw his forbidding glare, and wisely said he could stay.
It took half an hour for them to finish their checks and observations and for Rashel to finish her dinner. Her hands worked, but the canular made things a little awkward and she couldn't lean forward very much with her ribs battered the way they were. Finally her tray was cleared away and the healers bustled out for the night, leaving just one light on. Rashel sagged back into her pillows, eyes half-closed. Something about being in a hospital bed made her tired easily. She wasn't in much pain, and it hadn't taken much effort to eat, but her eyes were slowly sliding closed despite her struggles to keep them open. She only realised she had started to drift off when Quinn lowered her bed flat again and she jerked awake.
'Sorry,' he said quietly. She waved it off, sleep threatening to drag her under again.
'You don't have to stay up, you know. Our bed's got to be more comfortable than a hospital chair,' she murmured.
He smiled. 'Who said anything about a chair?'
While Rashel watched in bemusement, Quinn stood and moved his chair down to the foot of her bed. He then crossed to the bed next to hers, disengaged the brakes and pushed it over to bump gently against the side of hers.
Rashel boggled, but laughter started to bubble up in disbelief. 'What're you doing?'
'Making myself comfortable,' he said, lowering the barriers on his bed and her right hand barrier before kicking off his shoes and settling into the second bed.
'The healers are going to go crazy when they find you in the morning,' Rashel mused, but she settled down and shuffled sideways, closer to her soulmate.
'We helped take down four dragons. If they want to kick me out, they can take it up with Thierry.' He paused, just watching her, eyes flickering from her bandaged head to the needle in her hand and the lump of her leg beneath the blankets. 'Besides, after this, I...' His hand slips under hers, his thumb resting briefly just above her canular, right where he'd kissed her. Then it lifts, tilting up and out like a helpless shrug, all confined to his hand. I couldn't be there to stop it. But I can be here now.
He tentatively opens his mind further, and she can feel the fear there. The need to be close. The certainty that if he stays in their empty bed alone tonight, it'll be too easy to imagine what might have happened. That she wasn't asleep, safe a few floors above him, but lying in a drawer in the morgue in the lowest levels. And she sees that he thinks it's selfish. That he's staying for himself, for his own peace of mind. And even deeper than that, that it's a weakness. That he's become soft.
Old habits die hard. There are tiny parts of her that still question this new life, even after the Apocalypse has taken priority. That's not a bad thing though. It's just human nature, even if neither of them is fully human. She doesn't blame him for anything she finds, and she feels the relief as he finds her acceptance, and her own little sticking points. Eight months isn't that long, after all. They've still got time to grow. Just not as much as they might have thought before the millennium.
They both know dying is a possibility. Hell, a probability. Their one chance of winning this war is the Wild Powers, and Goddess only knows where they are or if they're all even alive. If they've already lost. Until then all they can do is fight, save as many people as possible, survive. But they're front line fighters. They're the ones who go out every time, whenever danger so much as threatens. They're the ones who come back each time, battered and bruised, and so grateful that they're alive at all. Then they go out and do it again. It's just a matter of what happens first: the war ending or their luck running out.
Rashel had always been lucky, but she never relied on it. Never would. She wasn't arrogant enough to believe it would get her through this. So she shuffled closer to her soulmate, as close as she could get while lying flat on her back to accommodate her injuries. She held his hand and his gaze. I wouldn't want you anywhere else. If they could die tomorrow, or the day after, or next week, or any time before she was old and grey, she wanted to spend as much time with him as possible.
So this, just being close to him as she drifted off to sleep. Just waking up to him in the morning. Defending him from grumpy healers. Enduring good-natured ribbing from her sister while he pretended not to hear anything as he and Galen talked...
Those simple things that made up each day. That was enough.