Author's Note: Thanks for the reviews, Singingsilent and OppositeNebula!

I added the scene of Silvermist thinking about the memories of Sleet at the last minute before publishing. I heard "Love is a Choice" by Kris Bowers, and it inspired those additions. I think it made for a much more moving and powerful scene that also shows how much their love has grown.


"Council, leave us for a few minutes, please," the Queen ordered.

When they were alone, Queen Clarion folded her hands. "Silvermist, we appreciate your offer and loyalty to Pixie Hollow, but we can't put you on the frontlines."

"And Sleet was very clear that he has concerns about you being used as a secret weapon," Lord Milori added. "Being you're the Captain's mate, I'm not going to throw you into war without talking to him—"

Every muscle shook with distress, and tears welled from so much anger as her wings lowered. "He's helpless, dying in the hospital! I can't heal him because he's so injured! If—"

"Silvermist," the Queen cut in softly and set a hand on her shoulder. "One thing at a time. What do you mean you can't heal him?"

The tears burst free as she explained the dandelion seeds blocking the pain petals and the incisions not healing.

Queen Clarion's eyes narrowed. "Do you feel alright? Is your dust low? If yours is low, you can only heal superficial wounds." The Queen studied her glow and pressed an ear to her chest.

"I feel fine, but he won't heal!"

"You don't have any signs of being low on dust. You were able to heal where the Creature cut his back? And when he needed heart surgery from the Creature?"

She nodded and wiped at her eyes. "Not all the way, but he said those were probably because evil caused the wounds."

"The dagger wasn't coated in anything that would prevent healing?" Lord Milori asked.

The Queen frowned. "Who would even think of that? But why would the surgical wound not heal then?"

Lord Milori hesitated for a moment. "Clarion, they're Alamur. I saw them coat knives with something in the prison that prevented wounds from healing. Even just cleaning his abdomen for surgery, the healers could've spread it across his skin so it would've reached the surgical site."

Queen Clarion's eyes narrowed. "They used it on you during the war, didn't they?" An urgency filled her voice. "Milori, if they're spreading it right now during surgery, he could die. How do you get rid of it?"

Grief filled his eyes. "It loses potency after four days. Any infected tissue has to be cut out."

Her stomach dropped. "He doesn't have three more days to wait for it to fade."

"Silvermist, come!" The Queen tore out the window.

The Queen buzzed through the hospital halls and to the surgery doors. "Is he in this one?"

She nodded, running to keep up so as not to blow everyone away with her wings.

Queen Clarion pushed the door ajar. "Spruce? Are you working on Sleet?"

"Yes! Get in here!"

She turned for a moment. "Stay out here. Your job is to keep his glow strong. I'm going to try covering the wounds with dust to see if we can fade whatever this poison is. When Milori comes, tell him to keep bringing me dust." Then she disappeared inside.

Rubbing her chest until the glow burned almost hot, she turned when someone touched her shoulder.

Lord Milori stood there, with three soldiers on guard down the hall. "The waiting is hard. I need to tell you something."

"The Queen said she needs—" her voice shook.

He held up a large bag. "Pixie Dust. I figured." He led the way around the corner to a waiting room and sat.

She sank into a chair beside him. Suddenly unable to breathe.

He pushed her head down between her knees. "Deep breaths. Sleet's too ornery to fade." Then he moved her hair and fanned the back of her neck. "Let's talk about battle tactics."

That gave something else to focus on. The world stopped spinning, and in another moment, she sat up.

"I assume Sleet didn't tell you what that Alamur said on the beach."

She shook her head.

He heaved a sigh. "I need you to keep your wits and help me figure out a plan here. The Alamur could return at any moment, and I can't wait for Sleet to get back on his feet. He said that Alamur, Guillotine, confessed the King of Horrors wanted Sleet eliminated for fear of being overthrown."

"But he has no interest in the throne. They haven't cared about him for three hundred years. He doesn't even have Alamur sugar anymore!"

Leaning his elbows on his knees, he clasped his hands and bowed his head for a moment. "Silveremist, Sleet practically worships you. He wouldn't want you to feel guilty, and I need your brain, not your guilt."

She frowned in confusion.

Sitting back, he looked her in the eyes. "You're a powerful siren. The King fears that with you as his mate, Sleet could easily take the throne."

Her heart stopped. "They're trying to assassinate him because of me?" A ringing started in her ears.

"Deep breaths. I need you to be aware of the situation so we can figure out what to do. You have abilities different from the Queen's, but I think just as powerful. This is going to sound harsh, but I can't pull the Queen into battle. If she's cut down, the rest of us fall dead in an instant. But you…"

She swallowed hard and looked down at her hands for a moment. "No one fades if I die," she finished quietly.

"Silvermist." His voice came out incredibly solemn. "I'll do everything I can to protect you, but you must know that I can't make any guarantees that you'll come out alive.

"I also have to be transparent and say that when it comes down to it, Sleet is an Alamur. If you died in battle, his grief would break him. I don't know that he wouldn't tear his own wings."

Letting out a deep breath, she stared at her lap for several long minutes. Sleet was so strong in many ways, but she was his weakness. There was no doubt that he'd grieve so hard the darkness would claim him until he tore his own wings.

"Lord Milori? I have to ask," she said softly. "He's an Alamur. All the Queen has to do is hand him over, and Pixie Hollow would be safe." Her eyes rose to meet his. "The Queen would send her soldiers and risk Pixie Hollow for him?"

He set a hand over hers. "The Queen and Sleet have their differences, but when it comes down to it, Sleet would lay down his life for his Queen. And the Queen protects her fairies."

Tears welled. "So, it's not just you and I fighting the Alamur?"

His eyebrows rose with heartbreak. "No, Silvermist. The Kingdom will protect Sleet."

Tears fell, and she quickly dried them. Looking at a tear that quivered on her finger, an idea flashed. "Lord Milori? When the Queen got Alamur sugar in her lungs from Sleet and he took her to the lake, didn't he say Alamur dust can't survive deep in the water for more than ten minutes?"

A frown pulled, but he gave a slow nod.

She met his eyes. "If we lure the Alamur to the ocean, I can drown them under before the battle even starts."

He released a sigh from the depths of his soul. "Silvermist, I'm not going to lie. It's one thing to kill a demon Creature, but it's another to take a fairy's life. And to take them all and that effortlessly, all of that darkness will have to escape you, probably as night terrors. A few deaths you could handle, but I don't know if you'd survive after wiping out an entire Alamur clan."

"Sleet has killed many fairies. He'll know if I could do it."

"And Sleet will have my head when he learns that you're coming into battle."

Then another thought struck. "If we kill the King, won't that make Sleet king? Won't more Alamur come after him?"

Another sigh. "I've thought of that. It's a question we'll have to ask him."

The minutes dragged passed with agonizing slowness. She stood and paced, rubbing a hand over her heart again.

"Is he alright?"

She turned to do another lap. "I can feel his glow, so he hasn't faded." A glance at the clock. It'd been three hours since Spruce had taken him into surgery, and an hour since the Queen had arrived.

His glow around her heart disappeared.

Dropping to her knees, she choked as sobs rose and rubbed her chest hard.

"What? What is it?" Lord Milori dropped down beside her.

"It's gone. His glow is gone!" The words tore out in a terrified scream.

"Milori!" the Queen yelled.

He grabbed the bag of Pixie Dust and ran. She followed.

The Queen stood in the surgery doorway in scrubs, covered in sugar. "Dust! I need lots of dust!"

When he opened the bag, she plunged her hands inside.

"Silvermist, take dust and rub it into your chest. His heart stopped." Then she disappeared back inside with handfuls of dust.

Milori grabbed a handful and started scrubbing it against her chest as she reached in for more.

It hurt. The dust was rough and tiny abrasions scraped into her skin. But she kept pushing and rubbing.

A nurse came over. "Is everything alright?"

"Fine," Lord Milori barked. "Lift your wing," he ordered and grabbed another handful. Then he rubbed it on the left side of her back, probably trying to get dust to her heart from every angle possible.

The glow in her heart burned hotter, but his glow around her heart didn't return. Her heart started to slow, struggling to pump. "I can't...I can't breathe," she gasped.

He grabbed her arm and lowered her to the floor. "You have as much dust inside as you can fit." He knelt before her and started rubbing her chest. "I've only done this once myself, so I'm hoping it's how it works for everyone. Rub and consciously focus on pushing the dust out of your glow and into his glow around your heart."

"Silvermist!" the Queen called and burst through the doors. "Come!"

Lord Milori helped her up, her legs shaking hard in terror. He scooped her up and ran after the Queen into the surgery room.

Sleet laid on a table with a tube in his throat and Spruce doing chest compressions. Two other fairies in scrubs ran around doing things as a beetle chirped a long, drawn-out whistle. The bee drew a straight line of no heartbeat on the paper, his eyes sad.

"Silvermist," Spruce panted, "we're going to try binding your glows to the degree of that the Queen and Lord Milori did. He's technically dead, so I have no idea if it'll work."

The Queen pulled down the left dress strap. "It's going to burn so hot that you can't stand it, but don't break contact. Here, get close. As soon as Spruce stops, do it. Focus on how much you love him."

She leaned down, tears overflowing but hope refusing to accept that he was dead. Spruce moved his hands to stop compressions, and the Queen pushed her back to press her down against Sleet.

It grew hot.

Memories of first meeting when he'd batted her away and broken her arm. And then bringing flowers to the hospital and bumbling and growling like a clumsy bear.

And hotter.

Then thinking of the moment when he'd bravely fought the wolf and taken her to his cabin, so gruff and fierce, yet so gentle. That had been the night she'd begun to fall in love with him.

And then the night he'd asked to mate. He'd again been like a bumbling bear crashing through Pixie Hollow as he'd carried her around, trying to find the perfect spot to pop the question. When he'd carried her up into the sky, he'd been so patient and tender as her heart had drummed in nervousness. And his touch had been slow and gentle, giving time to understand what was happening and that he wouldn't cause pain. He'd shown more than how to make love that night, he'd given a glimpse of how much he loved her.

Wrapping her arms around Sleet's neck and holding his shoulder, she held fast, gasping in pain as it burned.

Then all the moments of arguing when he could shout and bark and snap as fierce as any mountain lion. But never once was there fear of being hurt, fear of him being a notoriously evil Alamur. He even encouraged her boldness, sometimes going so far as to crack a smile in the middle of yelling to let her know it was alright to give it right back to him.

Tears fell as she buried her face against his neck. He couldn't leave yet.

"Yes, it's working," the Queen whispered.

A bright white light filled the room as she cried out from the blistering heat. Every instinct said to let go, to stop the burning. But the love for him made her fingers curl tighter to hold on.

The sickening scent of burned flesh filled the room.

Someone pulled her off. A red mark formed on Sleet's chest, but it faded in an instant.

"Neverland," Lord Milori breathed as Spruce resumed compressions. "It should've worked."

Her chest hurt so much that her hands shook.

The Queen cursed and grabbed a leafkerchief. "Don't move. You're burned."

Looking down, blisters covered her chest, but that didn't matter. Sleet laid perfectly still, the flesh around his eyes and lips turning blue. A sob broke the silence as she stepped closer and stroked his hair. "Sleet, I love you. I need you to wake up." Tears dripped onto his cheek. But he didn't stir.

"Can he not bind glows being an Alamur?" Lord Milori asked, his voice thick.

Spruce shook his head. "It was starting, but I think it won't work because he's technically dead. If we can get his heart going… Get me the electric eels again!" He put on heavy rubber gloves and climbed off of Sleet. "Everyone, clear!"

The Queen pulled her back.

Spruce grabbed the eels and set them to Sleet's chest. A current ran through Sleet.

The bee kept drawing a straight line.

A flicker around her heart. "Again! I felt his glow!" She pushed the Queen's hands away and moved closer.

Spruce set the eels down on Sleet's chest again. A tiny glow, only if concentrating hard enough could it be felt.

The bee drew a straight line.

Pushing Spruce aside, she rested her heart against Sleet's. The heat hit full force, creating a bright white light. His glow burned bright around her heart, and the beetle started to chirp a heartbeat.

Terrible pain seared through her chest, causing her to cry out.

Spruce pulled her back. "Clarion, she has third-degree burns. See to her." Then he started checking Sleet's vitals. Sleet had small blisters on his chest that rose and fell as he breathed.

Sobs broke free, both from the pain and relief that Sleet was alive again.

"Why is she hurt?" Lord Milori asked and held a leafkerchief to keep her dress from getting soaked as the Queen rinsed the burn.

She shook her head. "It causes burns, but the mates heal each other during it. He wasn't alive to heal her. Silvermist, I'm not going to put anything over this because as soon as Sleet is conscious, you need to finish binding your glows. He'll be able to heal this, but only if there's nothing blocking contact. You have to mate during or immediately after to fully bind your glows."

Her face crumpled as the pain began to fully hit. The room spun.

"I know, I'm sorry. Spruce! She had a critical burn and is going into shock. Wake him up!" The Queen ordered.

"We need the operating room for someone else. I'll wake him up on the way to a room," he replied, still injecting medicine into Sleet's I.V.

"Here, I'll carry you while the Queen keeps pouring water over it." He carefully picked her up and then met the Queen's eyes. "Don't let air hit it."

The Queen and Lord Milori walked sideways through the hall. Someone came out of a room and bumped the Queen.

The water flow stopped. Air hit. Horrific pain forced a silent scream of agony.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," the Queen said and resumed squeezing a bottle of water that trickled over the burn.

But it was too late. The pain was unbearable. Fighting to not completely sob, she squeezed her eyes shut and curled into a ball.

"Sleet, she's burned badly," Lord Milori said and lowered her.

It felt like a lumpy bed that she was put on.

"Neverland," Sleet's rough voice rasped.

The pain was gone.

Opening her eyes, Sleet gasped hard as he took her pain and rolled her over to align their hearts.

Wrapping her arms around him to hold tight, she barely heard the door close.

The glow burned hot, but it didn't cause pain this time.

The pain from her burn vanished, and in its place flooded her profound love, as deep and vast as the sea. Wrapping his arms around her tight, the heat from the glows binding was like an ecstasy. For the first time ever, the hint of darkness that resided in his heart couldn't be felt.

Her arms wrapped around his neck, and her lips pressed to his. "I love you," she whispered. "I thought I'd lost you."

"I love you, so much. I won't go that easily, dewdrop." A need, a primal drive to make slow love to her washed over.

She shifted over him.

Opening his eyes, his fingers grazed over her chest where the burn was gone and in its place was a very pale scar made of beautiful swirls. "Does it hurt?" His voice came out husky and rough.

She shook her head and traced his chest where he must have the same mark. Then she sat up and straddled his hips. "I'll be careful. We have to make love to finish binding our glows."

He frowned, but his eyes rolled back as she settled. "I thought mating…" The words faded.

"We didn't know if it'd work. Few fairies can tie their glows to be able to heal a mate from mortal injury," she breathed. Then she leaned down, her hair a silky blanket that caressed his chest as she kissed.

Moments later, she laid on his chest in the afterglow, carefully avoiding the stomach incisions. "Do you hurt?" she whispered, as if afraid of breaking a magic spell.

With a groan deep in his throat, he gave a lazy smile. "That was the best mating yet, dewdrop. You were careful enough that nothing hurts."

Sitting up, she scooted back to straddle his thighs as she traced in a feather-light touch near the two incisions. Her hair fell over one shoulder again as he trailed a finger down the front of her beautiful body. "Do the incisions hurt? They don't even look healed."

He stroked from her elbow on down and captured a hand, pressing a kiss to her palm. "Just sore. My insides don't hurt anymore. It's probably just superficial injuries now."

Those beautiful brown eyes looked up. "Lord Milori thinks that monster coated the dagger in something that would prevent you from healing."

That made more sense. "Probably Creature skin."

Horror swept over her expression. "Is that why your heart stopped?" Tears glistened in her eyes. "What kind of monster would think of doing such a thing?"

Reaching up, he tugged her down against his right side. It felt so good to hold her. Just a few more minutes of being in their own world.

"Sleet?"

"It was probably the darkness of having its tissues rubbed against mine." Nervousness sped up his heart, and the beetle chirped faster. "I was the monster." The words barely squeezed out. "It was my invention in the Alamur Army."

Her emotions could be felt so much stronger with the glows fully bound together. It wasn't fear or disgust that radiated from her—it was sadness and disappointment.

His chest constricted. Falling in her eyes was harder to bear than her fear would've been.

She stirred slightly against his side, clearly trying to grapple with that news. "What else does it do?" Nervousness pulsated from her, but it was different—almost like it was nervousness that he'd be hurt.

Stroking her arm that rested over his chest, he pressed a kiss to her head. "Nothing that it hasn't already done. Your love burned out the darkness, and it's how I came back to you. The incisions should be better than they were, but they won't be able to fully heal for three more days." Shame settled in his chest.

That small hand rubbed over his heart, strengthening her glow there. "Sometimes I forget that you weren't always like this. It doesn't mean I don't love you as much. Talk to me, or I think I'm going to cry that you almost died." Her voice cracked.

A knock came at the door.

He pulled the sheet over her shoulder to cover her nakedness.

"Is everyone doing better?" Spruce called through the door.

"We're fine," he called. "And her burn is gone."

"I'm going to go update the night-shift healer, and then I'll be back in fifteen minutes. I need to check you before I head home to bed."

"Alright," he replied.

Footsteps faded.

"Lord Milori told me what that Alamur confessed." She sat up and reached for her dress.

Disappointment flooded that she was pulling away. "Lie with me for a minute." For this conversation, he needed to hold her tight so she wouldn't be afraid of the Alamur coming to hurt him.

She met his eyes for a moment. "I don't think you're going to want us naked for this conversation." Then she slipped out from under the sheets and stepped into her dress.

She must be angry that he'd kept it a secret. Breathing through the incision pain, he pushed himself up to raise the head of the bed.

Silvermist raised the bed for him. Then she fluffed the pillow and reached for his shoulders, as if to help him slowly recline. But a soft cry of pain made her double over as his own pain vanished.

Using the sheet as a barrier, he grabbed her hands to break contact. "The anesthesia must be wearing off more. Don't touch, dewdrop." Leaning back, he blew out a long breath and lightly held his lower stomach that had sharp pains.

"Sleet," she begged.

With a small shake of his head, he drew a couple shallow breaths. "It's not as bad as before."

When he opened his eyes a moment later, Spruce came in, followed by Silvermist.

Spruce pulled out a syringe and injected the I.V. "We had to do a lot of shaving to get the infected tissues out. But I was cutting blind since we can't see what's infected with what Silvermist said is Creature tissue. What side effects or other problems do we need to look for?"

Shifting his right leg to get more comfortable, he gritted his teeth. Silvermist took his hand through the sheet. It helped to endure the pain to be able to hold onto her. "Nothing else should happen," he panted. "In three days the Creature's tissues should be dead, and healing can resume."

"In the meantime, she's healed you as much as is possible?"

"Yes," he breathed. The pain petals started to take effect. A shallow sigh of relief escaped. It was impossible to glance away from Silvermist while Healer Spruce puttered around, adjusting the garden snake, checking the beetle's antenna connections, and such.

She wouldn't do more than glance, her eyes following everything that Spruce did. "His respirations are shallow. He should go on oxygen for the night to help prevent pneumonia."

Spruce cracked a smile. "You haven't forgotten any of the medical skills you picked up. It's probably a little premature, but since his breathing will slow during the night while sleeping, I agree that oxygen wouldn't hurt."

He frowned and turned his head away in disgust when Spruce moved to put a tube under his nose.

"Be a good fairy," she said and took it from Spruce. "He'll let me." There wasn't an ounce of doubt in her statement.

"Will I?" he growled with a fierce look.

But she simply gave a lovely smile, set it over his ears, and positioned it under his nose.

The grasshopper jumped on the bulb, sending puffs of fresh air up through the tube.

"You bark and growl, but you won't bite me."

"I'm getting damn sick of being treated like an invalid," he grumbled.

She pecked a kiss on his nose. "You're very much an invalid right now. Behave so I can get you well enough to go home."

"We'll go home whenever I say."

Spruce chuckled. "I see you feel much better than earlier. Silvermist, I leave him in your hands for the night. I doubt he'll do what anyone but you says."

She stepped around the bed and flung her arms around Spruce. "Thank you for saving him."

The healer gave a pat under her wing, his voice chipper. "I'd say you did the majority of that. It just occurred to me that we haven't done an exam of your new wings since they came in. Should—"

But she let go and stepped back quickly with red cheeks. "No, it's fine. Another time, if you insist." She seemed embarrassed.

He frowned and glanced at Spruce.

Spruce glanced over with the same look of confusion. Then he turned back to Silvermist. "Do you prefer in private? It'll only take five minutes, and since I'm here anyways…"

She sidled a glance and pressed her wings down even flatter as she wrung her hands.

"Dewdrop?" He held out a hand. Her glow around his heart flickered with embarrassment and slight panic as she took another step back. Her eyes pleaded.

"Is this because of the other night when we were in bed…?" Was she afraid that having her wings touched by anyone would cause pleasure?

Her eyes widened in pure panic that he'd blurt it.

"Sweetheart, that won't happen." He wiggled his fingers for her to come.

Spruce glanced between them. "What won't? Do they hurt you?"

He dropped his hand when she simply took another step back, like a cornered baby rabbit. "After we were intimate, I stroked—"

"Sleet," she begged.

"It's nothing to be ashamed of, and he's not going to think anything of it." But the embarrassment wouldn't flee her face. Looking at Spruce, he rushed out, "I stroked her wings, and it was pleasurable for her."

Her face dropped into her hands.

"She's been so afraid and disgusted of them, that I think it was a psychological reaction to them not bothering me in the least," he finished.

Her hands lowered to look at him in confusion.

"That's what it sounds like to me, too." Spruce gestured toward him, but he looked at her. "What if I tell Sleet what to do and step outside? If it doesn't cause anything, then I'll come back and finish checking." He raised his arm to usher her closer.

"That sounds like a good plan, dewdrop. I don't hurt much right now, so it's a good time to touch your wings." He held out a hand.

Those frightened brown eyes looked from him to Spruce, and she slowly walked over, slipping her cold fingers into his hand.

After Spruce explained to Sleet what to do, he stepped out.

"Alright, I need you to turn and backup close to me. I don't want to move and stir things up so you'll hurt."

She did, slowly opening her wings, but lowering them enough for him to reach from bed. "Why does he have to check right now?" Her words floated in a small voice.

"I wasn't aware that he wanted to check them in the first week. We're just going to get it done so you don't put it off." He cupped the top ridge of her wing and stroked down the length of it, feeling for any bumps or tender spots like Spruce said.

The tension from her could be felt across the room.

Then he dug down to the base of the feathers.

"What are you doing?" She looked over her shoulder.

"Checking that the skin isn't irritated."

"Ew! There's skin?!" She whipped around.

And smacked him in the face with a wing in the process.

Holding his nose and blinking back tears, a curse slipped out.

"I'm sorry!" She leaned in close and eased down his hands. "There's no bleeding. Are you alright?"

"Neverland, Silver, you could give a concussion with those things. I'm fine." With a sniffle, he wiped his eyes. "Let me feel your back. Then I'm sicking you on him." He cracked a smile to take away her guilt, and wiped the fresh tears from his eyes again.

She turned slowly, keeping her wings down. When he pressed just below her wing frame, she flinched and hissed in a breath, jerking away before he could feel anything.

"Does it hurt?" He frowned and caught her wrist to pull her back again.

"It's just sore."

"Spruce!"

The healer walked in and closed the door.

"Should she be sore under her wings?" He turned her around to present her back to Spruce.

A smirk touched her lips. "You worry worse than a rabbit." When he threw a glare, she smiled.

"I'm not surprised. These wings are much bigger and heavier. Given the fact that she flew so much the past twenty-four hours, I'd expect soreness." Spruce pressed.

"Ow! Dammit!" He flinched from back pain and then let go of her with a curse to hold the renewed belly pain.

"Oh. Sorry. I didn't think to check if you were touching her. Alright there, Captain?"

"Having a damned Neverland field day," he barked and dropped his head back against the pillow for a moment.

Worry clouded her eyes as she watched him, seeming to absently hold out her wings for Spruce. "Do you need ice?"

He shook his head, wishing for nothing more than Spruce to go away so he could go to sleep with Silvermist.

As Spruce ruffled feathers to check, she shivered, causing a swooshing sound of her feathers like a dove. A smile curled up one side—his dove.

"Alright?" Spruce asked.

"It just felt weird. Are you almost done? Sleet looks tired."

"Just about." Spruce bent, peeking out from the bottom of her wing as he looked up at her back. "Can you move your wings back as far as possible?"

She glanced around, probably needing to hold onto something so she didn't tip backwards.

"The bed." He pulled up the sheet to reveal a metal bar by his shoulder.

So she grabbed it and eased her wings back out almost perfectly straight behind her. But her small arm muscles flexed hard and quivered trying to not let go. His hand could wrap around her upper arm. She was so perfectly adorable.

Cracking a smile, he twisted his arm closest to her and wrapped it around her waist since she stood beside his shoulder anyways.

She giggled, and her arms stopped shaking as some of her weight leaned against his arm.

That made the smile grow to see her a tad moon-eyed that he could easily take so much of her weight while hardly flexing a muscle.

"You aren't to be doing any lifting or anything more strenuous than this for three weeks, Captain," Spruce ordered. Then he leaned in close between her wing and shoulder. "There's a strange lump here. Tell me if it hurts, Silvermist."

The moment Spruce pressed, she shuddered violently at the popping sound. Her wings slammed forward, throwing Spruce onto the bed next to him and Silvermist backwards onto the floor.

"Silver?! Are you hurt?!" He tried to push off Spruce, who wiggled like a fish.

"No," she grunted and tried to sit up, but her sprawled wings weighed her down.

Spruce found his footing and got up, pulling a chair off of her wing. "Roll to one side to fold your wing, then the other."

Dragging his legs over the edge of the bed, he panted through the pain and moved to stand.

"Get in bed!" Spruce snapped over his shoulder. "She's fine. I'm a healer and better prepared to help her even if she wasn't."

"Sleet, stay in bed," she grunted, trying to fold up her wings that kept bumping into the wall, bed, chair, and other things.

"Are you hurt?" he demanded, with his fists pushing into the mattress to heave himself out of bed.

"No. Healer Spruce, I think my feathers are stuck under the wheel of the bed." What was visible of her body not blocked by Spruce stilled. She had one wing tucked in.

Spruce knelt. "How on earth did you manage that?" Then he stood and stepped closer. "Alright, Captain, I'm afraid I'm not strong enough to lift a bed with you in it. I need you to stand...oh, I'll get you a gown so you aren't naked." Spruce turned.

Grabbing the edge of the bed frame, he heaved himself up, hunched and panting. "Just get her free."

Spruce lifted the bed, and she scrambled up, her left wing not tucked down like the other as she came over.

"Here, get back in bed." She reached for him.

"Don't touch!" he snapped, hanging onto the raised head of the bed frame for dear life as sweat sprung on his brow from the pain. "You'll hurt." His voice lowered upon seeing the startled look on her face. "Is your wing hurt?"

"It's just a little sore. I'm fine. Sleet, sit. You're pale." She grabbed the sheet and wrapped it around him as a barrier as she tried to tuck herself under his arm.

"Dammit, don't touch," he gasped. The room started to sway. His knees grew weak.

"Hold on there, Captain." Strong arms wrapped around his chest from behind and leaned him backwards onto the bed.

Blinking hard, vision returned as Silvermist eased his legs up and Spruce tugged him into bed. "I'm not incapacitated," he slurred slightly.

"No, you simply fainted," she retorted and then adjusted the sheet to tuck back in place.

"You're exhausted. I'm giving something for the pain that will help you sleep." Spruce injected the line.

He tried to jerk his arm away but was too slow. "Dammit to Neverland, how am I supposed to protect her if Alamur come now?" His head bobbed already.

"Lord Milori has guards around the hospital, and if I recall correctly, I helped you fight Alamur." She stated, adjusting the pillow.

Silvermist and Spruce said something to each other, but it was too hard to make out the words. Neverland eyelids were heavy things—too heavy to keep open.

Something soft brushed his cheek.

"Commmme ta bed," he mumbled, his tongue too thick.

A small weight tucked against his right side. With a sigh of contentment as a light weight rested on his shoulder, he breathed, "Wuv oou."

A twinkling giggle and a soft kiss on the chest. "I love you, too, my Sleet."