She was still quivering; he could tell.
Her eyes had been empty, lifeless.
"I'm d-dirty," she stammered, abruptly recoiling when a large, male hand snaked through the curtains around the tub, shielding her from view. Out of reflex, she slapped the hand away, only to realize that the person crouching behind the curtains was merely trying to hand her a sponge.
"Ouch," he yelped as the sponge fell with a soft 'blub' into the water-filled tub.
"Sorry," she whispered.
"S' okay," he replied, still unmoved from his position beside the tub; so close to her naked vulnerability, yet too far from his reach. His ears perched up when he heard the faint sounds of her scrubbing herself with the sponge. Lines of worry began to decorate his face when the water in the tub splashed violently; the scrubbing sounds become louder:–
She was tormenting herself.
By doing that, she was tormenting him.
"I'm stained with filth and dirt and I'll never be able to wash it off," she howled agonizingly, as images of Shinji's sickening grins were strewn in her inner mind's eye. She could even feel his slimy hands all over her, when he had mumbled sweet nothings in her ears – venomous sweet nothings, churning her insides.
Archer was about to yank the curtains open and stop her from repeating such awful words when the splashing stops, as she held her hands up and stared at her wrists.
They ached.
She could not even move her arms without hissing in pain.
And she sobbed.
"I couldn't even stop h-him, I c-could have s-st-stopped him, b-but I d-didn't," she rambled, teeth chattering in the freezing coldness of the water. She clutched the sponge tightly and began to scrub her skin again, this time with an utter furiousness, causing her alabaster skin to redden. Blindly, she kept on scouring herself, unaware of the self-inflicted lesions she was imposing upon herself. Adding to the wounds and scars that Shinji had already enforced.
"This is for you to remember," Shinji had said.
And he had marked her with a loud, piercing slap to her soft, translucent cheeks.
"I feel so dirty," she continued sobbing, choking in her own words as she brought her knees to her chest, hugging them. Closing her eyes tightly, fighting the tears that were flowing freely. Like rainfall. Like her own fallen pride.
Like her fallen virtue.
"Rin," Archer tugged the curtains open slightly, unable to look at her in this moment of defencelessness. Even he could not forget how she was tied up to the four corners of Shinji's bed when he had found her, laid spread eagle, with only a flimsy piece of cloth to cover the leftovers of her innocence.
Shinji, that coward, had been toying with her long enough. But before he could do anything more, her Servant had appeared, looking deadly fiery.
Ferocious.
Pissed.
It must had been the last thing she remembered before she passed out, before he cut Shinji in half and carried her back to the house – her house, where she belonged.
The first thing she had said to him when she woke up was, "I need a bath."
He had complied with her wishes, thus, here she was.
All broken, battered and bruised.
"Rin," he called her name again, with more assurance. When she did not reply, he finally turned his gaze towards her, careful not to stare lower than her neckline. Gently, he took the sponge from her loose grip, softly washing her back and shoulders; arms and neck, before turning away again. Yet, before he could move any step further, she caught his hand.
Tiny fingers tracing his calloused palm.
Surprised, he twirled around only to be pulled towards her. Nearly stumbling, he managed to grip the side of the tub, before kneeling beside it. Her hand was still clutching his, tightly.
She wasn't looking at him, for that he was certain. Her face was unreadable.
Her sobs, though, had softened into silent sniffs, interrupted only by occasional 'hicks'.
'Still shivering,' he thought.
He extended his other arm to reach a fluffy towel made of Egyptian cotton only a foot away, before proceeding to help her stand up. Archer was careful not to catch any unnecessary glimpse of her luscious skin, before safely wrapping her in the warm, dry towel.
Carrying Rin's feathery weight in his arms, he laid her on the unmade bed.
"Hold me," she whispered croakily. "Don't leave me," she said.
It was her order, so it became a duty he would perform with all his heart.
Receiving no signs of refusal, she pulled him towards her in a long, comforting embrace. She clung to him as if she was holding on to her dear life, him handling her with never-seen-before tenderness, which was meant to sooth her fears, because he had never seen her so fragile.
They lied on the bed like that for the rest of the day. Side by side, hand in hand, fingers intertwined. He had told her then, that she would never be stained with filth as long as he was her Servant. Breathing in the scent of her hair, she smelled of soap and something else that was uniquely, Rin. Shinji would never leave any mark on her, or any other bastard who dared to soil her.
That was his promise as her protector.
Her saviour.
Her Archer.