Author's Note: Thanks for the reviews, Singingsilent and Summertea88! :)
I have a friend who is a quadriplegic. Sleet's feelings are based on both my friend's perspective and research. This story is in no way saying that people with any kind of disability are useless, etc. Research shows that such feelings can be very common as someone is adjusting after a serious injury.
For the scene with Clarion and Silvermist, I listened to Piano Guy's version of Let it Go (mid-way through the song is when I envision the balls of water pelting—you'll know when you hear it :) ). For the final scene in the kitchen when Silvermist is talking, I listened to Say You Won't Let Go by James Arthur.
At least flying wasn't affected...aside from collapsing in a pathetic heap from useless legs for a joke of a landing.
It was a coward's way out, to hide in the far edge of the Winter Woods where it would take a while for anyone to find him. The winds were too strong fly here, which left crawling with his hands through the snow. Nothing like more humiliation piled on.
More importantly, there was no more Silvermist. This Darkness would leak to her and the baby if he stayed.
A bitter laugh burst out, swallowed up by the snowstorm. If only the Alamur could see their King of Horrors now, dragging his back end through the snow, slinking off to die alone like some wounded animal.
Plunging his hands into the icy coldness did nothing to numb the grief. Leaning forward and pressing hard, he dragged his legs and then moved his arms to do it again. There was a cave not far off—likely unknown by many. It'd buy time to fade before his body would be found.
A blue cape suddenly blocked his path and beautiful white feathers rustled in the blizzard wind.
"Son of a fucking Neverland," hissed out under his breath. The last thing needed was for Silvermist to see him helpless and broken like this.
She squatted and wrapped her wings around in a cocoon, nearly muffling the roar of the storm. Their glows gave enough light to see her hands tuck in her lap. "Are you trying to prove something, or run?"
A bitter snort erupted, unable to look her in the eyes. "Fucking can't do the latter."
"Escape. You know what I meant." Her gloved hand swept down his cheek and then glided under his chin to raise his eyes to hers. "Why did you leave?"
Rancid bitterness filled his throat as he growled, "Lower your wings. You can't see a predator come like that, and I sure as hell can't protect you."
One black, elegant eyebrow arched in a challenge. "You can fly just fine and have full use of your arms. I suspect that even half paralyzed, you can protect me as well as a Bright Fairy soldier."
His teeth clenched in anger. "What do you want?"
The zap of sadness through her glow caused a pang of regret for those harsh words.
"I know I'm supposed to be strong and cheery for you, but I'm scared." Her eyes dropped to his hands in the snow, as if she fought to not weep. Her voice fell. "I'm so scared that you're going to push me away, and this is what's going to break us." She looked up with tears shimmering in those grief-stricken brown pools. "I need to know that you're going to fight for us. I realize that an injury like this would be so hard for any fairy, and I can feel it's even harder for you as an Alamur because Alamur don't get permanent injuries. I...oh, Sleet," she finally whimpered, "I need you to be strong for me so I can be strong for you. I'm so scared I'm going to lose you."
Tears threatened to witness her suffering like this.
"I will do anything and go through anything for you. I feel it that you're going to leave me because you think you're useless now. But I've never needed you more. I don't think you're broken or useless. I don't know how to make this better for you. I just know how to love you. You're my world, no matter what happens."
Bowing his head to hold back the tears, it caused physical pain to feel her anguish. Neverland, she didn't realize what was happening.
"The Darkness latches onto injuries in Alamur. It's why we heal so fast—to keep the Darkness from getting out of control. I won't survive the Darkness for more than a few months with an injury like this. I have to leave to protect you."
A gut-wrenching sob burst from her lips. "No!"
Her agony gave a burst of energy to brighten his glow. It was that same agony that also spilled his tears. "I love you," he whispered. "It's why I have to leave. Your glow won't survive this. I'll always love you." He reached out to stroke her cheek one last time. And then remembered not to touch her. The Darkness latched onto the profound grief of losing her, of not even having one last kiss or touch. Loneliness, grief, regret, depression, and a dozen dark emotions swelled so hard and fast that he grabbed his chest and had to pull his glow away from her to keep her safe.
"No," she begged and threw herself into his arms, knocking him over and pressing her lips to his. She frantically pulled off her cape without breaking the kiss and tossed it aside to press her heart to his and hold too tight for him to pry her off.
Love exploded and washed over a beautiful warmth. It replaced all emotions but the need to love her forever. Her wings wrapped around like a cocoon to pad his back and trap heat as she pulled off their clothes.
"Silver, I physically can't."
She mumbled between kisses, "I just wish for your heart and mind to want me. We don't know for certain that you physically can't love me." Then she sprinkled kisses down his neck as her hands stroked his chest and worked their way down. "I love you, and I'm not giving you up. Make love to me, Sleet," she breathed.
All logic faded as his heart pounded, swelling with love for her and willing to battle anything for forever with her. "Dewdrop," he breathed as his eyes fluttered shut and his hands buried in her hair. His hand stretched under her wings and up her back to the small space between her wings. Her skin was bared to the blizzard winds. "You'll get frostbite. Come here so I can keep you warm," he whispered and rolled her to lie on the cape.
Looking down into her eyes, he swallowed the embarrassment. "I need help," he whispered and struggled to not crush her with the dead weight from his hips on down.
Adoration filled her smile, and her arms curled around his waist to take his weight. "I won't break, my Sleet." She wrapped her legs around his for leverage to make love to his limp body.
Less than an hour later at the hospital, she reached up with so much happiness in her gaze.
He took her hands and slowed his wings buzzing to try to lower onto the hospital bed. And had a rather graceful landing with her guidance.
Her smile bloomed even more, if possible. "That was perfect."
Leaning forward, he caught her face in his hands and gave a deep kiss.
"I see you found our runaway," Spruce cut in.
Silvermist pulled back with a shy blush. "Yes. Someone was being stubborn."
He frowned. "The Darkness was—"
"Unable to withstand a Siren," she grinned. "You should know that by now." She pecked a kiss on his cheek.
Spruce looked a little haggard. "You're going to be a difficult patient the next few weeks, aren't you?"
"No. I'm not staying here."
The healer stopped half way across the room. "Yes, you are. I'll get Her Majesty to command it, if need be."
She eased onto the edge of the bed and laced her fingers with his before he had a chance to respond. "Why does he need to stay for weeks?"
"There's a lot of physical therapy to do and see if any movement can be regained. Thankfully I don't think it's possible for you to get autonomic dysreflexia like paralyzed humans. But there's learning how to, um, use the washroom," he added carefully. "And how to avoid bedsores—"
Her wings rose a hint. "We'll come each day. There's no reason for him to stay nights if he doesn't want."
A smile threatened for how fast she jumped to advocate for him.
When Spruce frowned, he cut in. "One night. You can do whatever tests and such that you want for the next twelve hours. After that, I'm going home. I'll come each day, but I won't stay overnight."
"Captain, I must insist. You need to learn how to do things differently. Something like getting out of bed into a wheelchair could be dangerous if not done right—"
A deep voice barked a laugh from the doorway. "I'll tell you right now that there's no way you're going to get him to use a wheelchair." Lord Milori stepped in with the Queen and Princess.
He stared in surprise as Queen Clarion let go of Milori's arm and hurried over.
"Spruce sent word about what happened. Let me see if I can do anything." The Queen rubbed her chest to surface raw dust and then motioned for Sleet to lean forward.
Silvermist stood and pulled up the back of his tunic. "Right here." Her soft hand caressed down his spine and then her touch disappeared where sensation ended.
"Oh, Sleet," the Queen whispered. She turned and opened the window. "Silvermist, come. I have an idea. Your dust is full?"
"Yes." Silvermist offered him a smile and walked around the bed to the Queen.
"Be careful," he said and glanced down at the small swell of her belly.
The two of them flew out. Lord Milori approached with a grin. "Captain, I highly recommend a wheelchair for this. You aren't going to want to miss what they're going to do."
"What are they going to do?"
He just smiled and carried the princess out to the hall.
A couple minutes later, he wheeled himself out the front doors of the hospital and over to the garden. Lord Milori set the sleeping princess in his arms, not even asking if he wanted to hold the baby.
His arms curled around this tiny poo monster, and she nuzzled in close and settled into a peaceful sleep, unafraid of the King of Horrors. Then he looked up.
Two fairies zoomed through the sunset sky, one spinning tighter and tighter, a blue blur too fast to see as a water tornado stretched from the ground to the sky.
Then the Queen swooped past, leading a blanket of dust from the Pixie Tree.
Silvermist suddenly stopped and shot into the sky, her powerful wings creating a breeze even from this distance. The water tornado split in half, and she looped back down. In and out, she somehow wove trails of water to intertwine and look like lace.
The Queen dove through the holes, creating cracks of thunder as the dust collided with the water.
Princess Anastasia startled in his arms and her face crumpled, as if about to burst into tears.
"Look at what Mama is doing," he smiled and turned her to see. "Mama's flying so fast." He stood her to bounce on his thighs, and she babbled happily. And then she startled with the next clap of thunder.
He chuckled, coaxing her to relax. "Did Mama make a big boom?"
The little princess gave a tentative smile and shoved her fist in her mouth.
"You're an absolute pushover, Captain," Lord Milori muttered and stroked the Princess's curls.
"As if you should talk," he muttered and bounced the Princess again, to her delight.
At that moment, Silvermist hovered before the magnificent sculpture they created. It reached nearly the height of the Pixie Tree. She raised her arms and held a hand out to the lattice. The other hand swirled, summoning a massive stream of water from the direction of the ocean.
With a flick of her wrist, she shot balls of water at the latticing and soared up into the sky, pounding it with balls of water all the way to the top as she climbed higher and higher. The force shook the ground with each hit.
Then Silvermist circled the latticing all the way to the ground, with a stream of water fighting to keep up behind her.
Too awestruck to even ask Lord Milori what they made, his eye locked on Silvermist dart around the lattice to encase it in a water funnel.
Silvermist dove down the side so fast that it was as if she shaved the funnel. And flared her magnificent wings out at the last second before hitting the ground to swoop back into the sky, dragging a hand through the funnel to tighten it. Neverland, her power was a sight to behold.
The Queen landed beside Lord Milori, panting hard with flushed cheeks. Without a word, he seemed to know to frost her brow. "Captain, your mate has astounding talent," she panted.
Just then, Silvermist burst through from the backside of the lattice and water encasement, creating a boom as she shot past. The water, now fused with Pixie Dust, charged after her and created a blast of wind so strong that he had to cover the baby's eyes.
She looped over and over, nearly too fast to see. And then slammed to a halt. The water dust surged up toward her from below.
Gasping a breath to shout for her to move, his heart stopped. Raw dust hit at that speed would kill her instantly.
But the moment her toes touched the water, her wings closed and she rode it like a wave up into the clouds. And disappeared.
He glanced up at the Queen, who simply smiled at the sky and didn't seem the least bit worried.
Then it started to rain the fattest raindrops he'd ever seen, but in a strange pattern like a staircase.
His mouth dropped open as Silvermist sprinted down the waterdrops with the help of her outstretched wings, just like they were steps. Each one popped into dozens of small raindrops as she landed on it for a split second before she was onto the next. Her glow around his heart was so happy it felt like it'd burst.
At the last raindrop, she pitched forward toward the ground as it exploded into more raindrops. And then she closed her wings and plummeted to fly in a wide circle so fast that she caught all the raindrops before they hit the ground.
The gold Pixie Dust now sparkled blue and tried to separate from the water.
"Almost done." The Queen shot way and swept past Silvermist, collecting the blue dust as Silvermist darted the opposite direction with the water.
They both stopped at opposite sides of the tree, with thick walls of water or dust behind them. And then they shot straight for each other.
Lord Milori tensed at the same moment he did.
Silvermist and the Queen both made hard breaks in opposite directions to the side. The walls of water and blue dust collided, creating a massive explosion of blue light and wind that knocked Lord Milori down and nearly toppled the wheelchair.
Silence. Not even the birds sang. There was no sign of Silvermist or the Queen. "General," he whispered, afraid to breathe.
"They're alright. I feel Clarion's glow. Silvermist's?" He got up and took the sobbing baby.
He nodded. "I feel it. But where are they?" Pressing up with his arms, he tried to get enough space from the back of the wheelchair to flap his wings and go look for them.
The Queen dropped down beside Lord Milori. "That was more powerful than I expected."
"Where's Silvermist?" he demanded.
Her eyes scanned the field. "I thought she'd be over here."
Shoving out of the chair, he collapsed on the ground. But it was enough space to buzz his wings and take off. "Silver?!" Her glow felt tired but safe. Darting up to get a better view, he hovered above the tree tops.
There. Something blue and white lay in the farthest end of the field. Panic sped him down in a heartbeat. He landed in a hard collapse a few lengths from her.
She was still and didn't move.
"Silver?" He dragged himself closer as fast as possible.
Her head turned to look at him. And she smiled. "I got so hot that I felt dizzy. I just need to lie down for a minute."
He set a hand over the baby, only to jerk it away from her heat.
A tired smile played on her lips. "He's kicking. I think he liked playing with the water."
Collapsing onto his stomach with relief, he pressed his forehead against the cool grass. "You gave me a heart attack. Do you need ice or water to cool off?"
"No, I used the water to cool off some already." She rested both hands on her belly and closed her eyes, with a smile on her lips. "That was fun."
"What were you doing?" He rolled onto his side, trying to ignore the uncomfortable twist in his back from his legs not following. And too embarrassed to sit up and adjust the limp appendages.
"Making some medicine for you to try." She stretched out her leg and tried to lift his to untwist his back. "Ugh, your leg is so heavy! Why do you have to have so many muscles?" Then she sat up and had to pull hard to move his leg. "Don't," she said as she laid down and tucked in against his chest, her body now warm but not painfully hot.
"Don't, what?"
"Act all embarrassed about your legs. I couldn't cuddle with your leg in the way." She rested his hand on her belly.
"Liar," he grunted.
She closed her eyes, seeming quite content. "You were uncomfortable and weren't about to move your leg, so that left me to do it. Just so happens that it put me closer to you, which made me want to cuddle and move it anyways."
His chest bounced in a silent laugh. And then there was the tiniest twinge under his hand. He shot upright. "Did he just move?"
Bright brown eyes smiled back at him, and she pressed him back to lie down. Then she straddled his hips and set both of his hands on her belly.
It vibrated the smallest bit, almost too softly to feel. She smiled. "I think he's buzzing his wings."
"He buzzes?" Then joy dissipated as it dawned. "Like he has Alamur wings?"
She shook her head and grinned. "Like he has his papa's wings."
"Look at you." Silvermist walked into the physical therapy room two weeks later, her belly not small enough anymore to be hidden by her dresses, but still small enough to fit in his hands.
He held onto the walking bars with a death grip and elbows locked straight to keep from collapsing. The blue dust medicine that the Queen and Silvermist had made brought back some tingling sensation in his legs, but nothing else.
The physical therapist fairy knelt and dragged one of the limp legs forward and wrapped a hand around to lock the kneecap. "Does that seem solid?"
The leg tried to twitch and bounce with messed up nerve signals. "I think so. I don't know, I can't feel it."
"Slowly ease some weight onto it."
He did, and it tried to buckle. The second therapist behind him tightened his grip on the strap tied around his waist to stop the fall.
Humiliation burned hot with having Silvermist here to watch him need two sparrowmen help him fake walk worse than an infant fairy.
"Oh, Sleet, that was so good," she beamed and trotted over with her hands clasped under her chin. "I made some oatmeal cookies for lunch after PT."
She meant well, but it felt like a child being rewarded with a cookie after this degrading PT session. She suddenly stilled and said too quickly, "I'll go get set up outside." Then she spun around and left, obviously sensing his embarrassment with her presence.
A few minutes later, he flew out to the hospital garden. She sat on a blanket with the food laid out and rubbed her belly.
He lowered onto the blanket, his limp legs collapsing and requiring him to use his hands to reposition them. Silvermist didn't offer to help this time, which he'd reject, of course. But her lack of offer spoke volumes.
"It wasn't you. It's just so degrading not being able to do the simplest things, have to be strapped up like a child, and need two sparrowmen move my legs and catch me. I know you want to be supportive, but Tuesdays, Thursdays, and Saturdays are PT sessions that I need to do by myself."
Those brown eyes flicked up for a moment as her brow furrowed in confusion.
"You see me struggle to do basic things. I need walking exercises to be a humiliation I endure on my own."
She nudged his plate over and kept her eyes diverted, but so much sadness washed over from her glow. "You struggle because you refuse to accept my help. I feel it—that I'm the last one you want around. The one time I didn't offer to help but just jumped in, you ripped off my head," she said softly. "I'm not going to stop offering because I don't want you to ever think that I won't help." Sad eyes met his. "It's been made abundantly clear that if you ever do one day accept my help, it's not because you need it. I get it that you need me even less than before your injury. I won't come with you to the hospital each day anymore, but if you ever ask, I won't say no." Then she picked up her sandwich and was distracted when a baby ladybug crawled over to talk.
He stared. There was no resentment or anger in her glow, just profound sadness and loneliness. He'd shut her out so many times the past two weeks that she wasn't going to knock on the door anymore to try to get in. She'd been right—this injury was damaging their relationship. Because he was letting it.
Just then, the cricket timer, Bob, that Spruce had given to time catheterizations went off.
Tension shot through her glow, but she kept talking to the ladybug like she didn't hear the timer.
Guilt hit. His first time trying to catheterize at home had been filled with anger, humiliation, and frustration. He'd thrown some things and cursed enough to burn an Alamur's ears off. She'd knocked and entered to help, but the embarrassment and emasculation had burned so hot that he'd yelled at her to get out. And not too kindly, at that. And then he'd been too afraid to remind her of what she'd seen to even apologize.
The baby ladybug left.
He reached over and tapped Bob to reset the timer. And then set a hand on her shoulder.
She flinched but didn't look, as if trying to pretend it didn't happen.
That simple reaction made him blink in shock. It wasn't a flinch like she was afraid of being hit, but because he'd touched her so little in the past two weeks that him initiating contact was a surprise.
"I'm sorry. For being an ass the past two weeks. For letting this come between us. I don't want you to see everything I can't do anymore, to see the lesser mate you're stuck with."
A fierce frown marred her brow and she met his eye. "The only thing you can't do is walk by yourself. There's literally nothing else that can't be done one way or another. You're only less if you convince yourself that you're less," she snapped. "No one else thinks it of you, and I certainly don't. I think you're braver and stronger because I see that things aren't as easy anymore, but you don't give up.
"So instead of shoving me away and putting words in my mouth because you assume everything I say stems from pity, I'll say it perfectly clear. When I say I'm proud of you for not accepting challenges at face value and fighting through them, I mean that I admire your courage and tenacity. When I say I love you no matter what, I mean that nothing can ever make me love you less. When I say I want to help you with any of this, I mean I want to do anything that will help make this easier for you, even if it's for five seconds!" She stabbed a finger at the blanket, her glow getting red. "I'm in this with you in the deep end of the ocean—I will do every PT appointment, every catheterization, every turn during the night to prevent bedsores, everything that comes along with this injury because we are partners! If you want someone who will leave you to sink in the ocean, you mated the wrong fairy! Good day, Captain!" She got up and marched toward home.
Neverland, she was amazing.
He buzzed beside her as she kept marching. "I've been an idiot these past two weeks, haven't I?"
"You've been a squirrel," she huffed without looking at him or slowing.
Couldn't argue with that. "I'm sorry."
She suddenly stopped and spun to face him, so he hovered. "I don't want you to be sorry! I want you to let me be your partner! And stop hovering! You know I hate that you're too tall to look you in the eye when we're talking!"
He cracked a smile. "It's this or we sit on the ground, which I know isn't the most comfortable with your wings."
She rolled her eyes, reached up to grab his hand, and marched toward a flower. Then she raised her arms. "You haven't carried me in two weeks. We'll sit on the leaf."
"Yes, Your Highness," he grinned and scooped her up. Then he flew her onto a leaf and guided her wings to hang off the backside so they wouldn't bend or kink.
She pushed his hands away. "If I don't get to help you, then you don't get to help me." She leaned back on one hand and rubbed her baby bump pointedly.
"Ah, my dewdrop, but I'm not pregnant." He smiled and settled beside her.
"Your timer went off," she replied in a haughty tone.
"And Spruce said I can go fifteen minutes past. I will agree to teaching you how to catheterize in theory. You can come to PT on Mondays and Wednesdays."
Her face fell.
He frowned. "What else were you expecting?"
She shook her head, her glow sad.
Just then, his leg started twitching in a spasm. With a sigh of frustration, he started to massage it. These irritating little spasms happened several times a day. And then it dawned that she wanted to physically help each day with something. It'd actually be a welcomed respite. "Soft strokes to try to calm the nerve," he said quietly and set her hand on the thigh muscle that had some atrophy setting in already.
Heartbreak looked back at him as she carefully massaged. "Do you ever get phantom pain? I read in a human book that spinal cord injuries can cause it."
He gave a slow nod and held her gaze. "Sometimes in PT, especially, my legs get painful. That's why I don't want you there on certain days."
A tear fell from her black lashes. "Spruce says mate pain won't hurt the baby—"
"No, I don't want you to take it. Sometimes old scars act up, and I don't want you to feel that."
A soft sniffle as her tears flowed. "PT is like getting tortured? Does Spruce know?"
He pulled her in for a hug and tucked her head under his chin. "He does. It's not as bad as if it happened to a Bright Fairy, sweetheart. I've had much worse, so it's not worth getting this distressed."
"I love you so much and just want to fix this for you," she hiccuped and held tighter around his waist. "Don't do this alone," she breathed.
It was hard to handle the monumental grief and pain in her heart that made his glow grow in intensity. "Dewdrop," he rasped around a lump in his throat, "I don't want you affected like this—"
Her silky hair shook and lightly tugged against the stubble on his chin. "It hurts that you'd rather endure all of this alone than..." She sat up and brushed at her soaked cheeks. "Your timer went off a while ago. The psychologist said I shouldn't talk to you like this—"
"What?!" he barked and pulled back to look at her. "Why are you talking to a psychologist, and why is he telling you to not talk to me about what you're feeling?"
The backs of her hands tried to dry her eyes. "Spruce said it might be good not just for you to see a psychologist because of your injury, but me too so I don't make you feel guilty or—"
"What the Neverland?!" he roared. "You expressing how you feel or needing to talk to me about this isn't going to make me feel guilty or whatever the hell else they're filling your head with!"
She blinked. "The psychologist said with humans it—"
"Are we humans?!" Then he pulled her against his chest again and cradled her. "You tell me right now everything you've been told not to tell me," he growled in irritation.
"But you need the bathroom."
Heaving a hearty sigh, he stroked her wing. Everything was starting to fall apart, and the only way to save this mating was to jump in the deep end and have faith in her love. "Alright, dewdrop, we're going to start over. You tell me everything, no secrets. And I'll keep you with me every moment for the next few days. Then you and I—no one else—will figure out a balance."
She shot up so fast that her head almost banged his chin. Her wings rose and her bolt of happiness zinged through his glow. "Really?" The most beautiful smile beamed back at him, putting the sun and moon to shame.
That moment of witnessing her profound, pure happiness was worth enduring hours of any humiliation or pain.
His cheeks were red as she opened the bathroom door for him to exit, after teaching her how to help. He rolled past in the wheelchair that he'd never let her see him use before this.
She caught his arm and stopped him in the doorway. It seemed to take him a moment to gather courage to look up at her. Leaning a hand on the armrest to be at eye level and the other hand cupping his cheek, a smile filled with so much happiness that it couldn't be held back. "I know you're embarrassed, but today has made me so happy. I don't want you to be embarrassed or ashamed of anything. We write our own love story, and we can make this the path to a story they'll tell til the end of time."
The embarrassment and humiliation fled his glow, and his eyes filled with tenderness as he cradled her hand on his cheek. "The greatest love story ever known. Whatever did I do to deserve you?" he whispered. Then he caught her hips and tugged her over the armrest and into his lap.
"What are you doing?" she gasped, shocked that he was so blazé about the wheelchair so suddenly.
He grinned and wheeled to the bedchamber. "Sweeping you off your feet."
She threw her head back and laughed, the weight of the world gone for now.
"I'm so sorry," he said again minutes later as she stroked his legs that interrupted the romance with spasms.
"Hush. I have no complaints about touching your muscles," she giggled with his legs in her lap.
His smile disappeared and he stroked the raised, lumpy scar on her belly from the Alamur attack.
Shame crept up. "Will it get better?"
He very gently stroked the scar as regret spread through his glow around her heart. "No, sweetheart. But it makes you more beautiful for being brave enough to fight those monsters and fight to keep our baby safe. You do not be ashamed of this."
Looking down at where he touched, she gently nudged his hand away, using her arm to block view of it. "It's so ugly. Your scars from Alamur are flat and smooth."
His brow furrowed in concern. "Because I am made of evil, so they can't hurt me as much as such injuries on you."
A frown met his words, and she laid down on his chest since his legs relaxed. "You aren't evil." She stroked his shoulder.
"You aren't to hide your body because of this," he growled. His heart could be felt aching for her.
Soft giggles filled the air. "You sound so grumpy." But her glow didn't feel happy. "The Queen said her scars from Bernard faded and smoothed after she bound glows tighter with Lord Milori. We did, but it didn't help. Do you know if it'll get worse as the baby grows and stretches it?"
There. His glow flickered brighter for an instant as he felt it—her shame.
"Dewdrop, perhaps because you weren't born a Bright Fairy, it can't heal the same way. It doesn't matter, though. Here, let me see if I can heal it more, sweetheart." He helped her sit up and hesitated.
Humiliation crept in along the edges of his glow around her heart because his body couldn't desire her without assistance anymore. A shy smile tugged. "It makes us stronger, my Sleet." Her hand wandered down and then she glanced up at him.
Such a solemn expression. "Maybe your scar didn't heal because maybe we aren't fully consummating. I can't feel to tell if…are you pleased afterwards?" Worry wrinkled his brow.
She stilled. This would have to be broached carefully. "I am pleased because you want me and—"
His eyes widened and cheeks grew red in embarrassment. "You didn't say anything!"
"Stop. I know that everything doesn't work the same and can't. You do satisfy me—I'm not faking anything."
"Oh Neverland," he groaned and ran his hands down his face. "Why didn't you tell me?!"
"Because I didn't want you to get in your head about it. And you can't tell me that you're completely satisfied. I know you can't feel there, but you're a little tense when we make love—"
He flung is hands down and gave her a look. "Because I feel absolutely nothing there! There's no way to know if I'm pleasing you! I just trusted that you'd say if not! Silver, I can't believe you!"
"No," she frowned. "Then you're going to be worried. I'll be in charge of everything below our waists, and you be in charge of everything above our waists."
"Fine."
"Fine." She smiled. "You have to promise you'll speak up if you aren't satisfied either."
He gave a naughty grin.
Minutes later, her heart slammed, too afraid to look if the mating marks had burned through with how painfully hot they'd grown. The bond had refused to let her pull away.
His chest heaved under her, and he kept a tight grip. "Does it still hurt? I'm scared to look if our skin melted together."
"It doesn't hurt anymore. You?"
"No." His other hand reached up and very slowly slid between their hearts. "It doesn't feel like we're stuck together."
She slowly pulled back. His mating scar looked alright.
He immediately touched hers. "You don't look burned."
So she slowly sat up, still joined with his body.
But his hands locked around her hips and his eyes nearly bugged.
"What? Are you hurt?"
"I feel you," he breathed. His leg twitched—deliberately.
Scrambling off, she threw back the blanket and stroked his foot. "You feel that?"
He nodded and then seemed to concentrate. His toe moved a fraction.
"Mate. In the clouds like a first mating, right now." She grabbed his arms and tugged hard.
For such a little thing, she managed to manhandle him fairly well. "What?"
She tugged him up to a sit. "It's the most powerful way to bind glows, and you can feel me now. Just do it and let me see if I can fix your back." Then she crushed his lips with a kiss that released nectar.
"I can't believe it," Spruce breathed an hour later at the hospital.
It required locking his arms to clutch the walking bars and a lot of concentration, but one leg dragged forward in a sloppy step and then the other. The physical therapist stepped forward again with the waist strap to put on.
He stilled and threw a lethal look. "Don't you dare."
The therapist's eyes widened in fright and he stepped back.
Silvermist simply laughed, threatening to undo the fear of Neverland he'd instilled in most of the medical staff. Even Spruce's slight uneasiness with him didn't prompt the healer to order the therapist back over.
"Sleet, behave." She came closer and grabbed a fistful of his tunic at the back. "We don't want you to fall and hurt your back worse." Then she stood on her toes to whisper, forcing him to lean his head down to hear. "I'll act perfectly terrified if you behave."
"Too late," he growled and glanced at the two sparrowmen therapists glance at each other in question over Silvermist's ease with him.
She simply giggled and set a hand on his chest to keep him from pitching forward. "So, what do you think?"
Spruce stepped around to the front and squatted. "Walk toward me."
Another couple sloppy drags and then it required stopping to catch a breath from holding up body weight with arms for so long. Then another couple steps.
"Alright, let's go in an exam room and talk." Spruce gestured toward a stack of wheelchairs.
Buzzing his wings, he hovered beside Silvermist.
The healer sighed and led the way down the hall.
"Alright," Spruce said and stepped up to the exam table. "Let's get your legs up. I'm going to test how much sensation you have and what kind of muscle function."
He sat but needed to use his hands to swing his leg up. Silvermist immediately grabbed his other leg and had to use both of her arms to heft it up. It would've been hilarious to see her have to lift just a leg so hard, except her glow burst with happiness in being allowed to help. A smile broke free and he took her hand as she stepped closer.
As Spruce approached with a syringe and a metal mallet, his eyebrows rose.
"This looks worse than it is. I want to use the mallet to see if you can sense cold, and the needle is just very light pricks that won't even break the skin. Close your eyes."
"The last time a mallet came at me, it was to smash my arm," he grumbled and closed his eyes.
Spruce barked out a laugh. "Captain, I'd have to be an idiot to try to hurt you of all fairies. Sometimes I'm not sure if I fear you or your mate more."
"Why are you scared of me?" she gasped, as if it was one of the worst things in the world. Although, it probably was to a Bright Fairy. It was hard to hold in a laugh.
"I've seen what you do when Creatures try to attack your mate." A smile filled Spruce's tone. "Alright, Captain, tell me what you feel and which leg."
"Good!" Spruce exclaimed a minute later. He stood at the bottom of the table and ran a finger up the bottom of the left foot. Toes curled down and the entire leg jerked. He frowned. "Did you try to move it?"
He shook his head.
Spruce rubbed the bottom of the foot with his hand. It trembled and stopped as soon as Spruce did. "Did that hurt?"
"No. It just felt like tired muscles shaking." Spruce did a few more tests on it. "Lets give it a few days in PT and see if it's just weak muscles spasming. It's possible that the nerve signals aren't making it through correctly. I have a feeling it's both. You have substantial muscle weakness, though, which is to be expected."
Then he ran a finger up the bottom of the right foot. The toes barely moved to curl down. "Bend your toes."
Still barely any movement. A glance at Silvermist revealed a heartbroken look in her eyes.
She caught him watching and pasted on a smile. "Anything is better than what you've had."
The healer tried again. Again, barely anything. "You can feel this, though? Does it feel like normal sensation, or is it dulled?"
"The left side feels like normal. The right feels dulled."
Spruce tested some more. "Alright, so sensation is dulled below the right knee. That doesn't mean it won't improve. This is more than I ever thought possible. I'm going to study human spinal cord injuries more."
"Silver!" he called breathlessly from the washroom a few days later.
She burst in. One look at his heaving chest and sweat-soaked tunic, and she dashed over. "It's alright. Deep breaths." In one swift move, she swiped the catheter supplies from his hands and tugged him forward to slide out of the wheelchair and on the floor into her arms. She eased him to lie flat and untangled his legs.
Blinking hard returned vision.
Soft fingers pressed against the side of his neck, and she rubbed over his heart. "Your heartbeat is getting stronger. Did that one happen faster?"
With a nod, he closed his eyes. "Heart," he whispered, suddenly unable to breathe as his heart took off far too fast.
"Okay," she said calmly and whipped down her strap to press her heart to his. "Bob, heart rate" she ordered the cricket timer.
An antenna touched his neck. He chirped for a reading of two-hundred-ten. Two-hundred-fifteen.
She pressed her heart down tighter.
Two-hundred-twenty.
"Sleet, it's not working and you're far too high. You'll pass out in a moment and I can't carry you. I'll be back in less than sixty seconds with Spruce." She scrambled up and ran out.
The last thing heard was Bob chirping two-hundred-eighty-nine.
Beeping. It looked like a hospital room. Silvermist laid on his chest, but didn't get up from where she kept her heart pressed to his. "There's my captain." She spoke as if sensing him wake up. She shifted, her belly a welcomed bump pressing into him. "Spruce said it's the spinal cord injury causing your blood pressure to go crazy the past few days, and it got so low that your heart tried to beat faster to make up for it. He figured out a medicine that seems to be working."
"I'm so tired," he breathed, barely having the energy to keep his eyes open.
Spruce walked in. "That's to be expected. You expended a lot of energy with a heart rate that high, and this med can cause exhaustion for a week or two until you adjust to it."
He shook his head. "I can't do PT this tired," he whispered.
"I know. I'm sorry, but we have to get your blood pressure under control so you don't go into cardiac arrest again. I talked to Silvermist about just keeping your glows touching to see if it will help. Silvermist, don't lie on the baby like that." He stepped forward quickly.
He slid a hand between to feel her belly slightly compressed. Sucking his in to make room, he helped Spruce turn her on her side and he followed. Spruce adjusted his deadweight legs. "Will this drain them?" he slurred, struggling to stay awake.
"No, this won't harm them at all. You, however, have a dim glow and desperately need this."
Resting a hand on her belly and holding her close with an arm wrapped around her, he kissed her brow. "Thank you, dewdrop. Wake me if you need anything. I love you," he whispered and lost the fight before she even replied.
"You're so beautiful," he breathed and stroked her belly that was a bit bigger than both of his hands now.
"I'm only four months and look huge," she replied with hot cheeks as she stood at the side of the bed between his legs.
He pulled her dress out of her hands and toss it over his shoulder. "Spruce said the first trimester in fairies goes fast compared to humans, and the baby will grow slower now. You don't look huge; you look exquisite and will continue to look so as the baby grows." Then he leaned down to press a kiss to the baby and rested his forehead against her belly.
"Sleet?"
"I got dizzy. I just need a second."
Gliding her fingers through his soft hair, she rubbed over her heart to chase his sadness away. "We're going to figure this out, my Sleet. Should we try lying down?"
"No, I don't want to be sickly all the time. There has to be something else that helps."
Gently pulling free, she sank onto the side of the bed and gave a heated kiss.
A moan from deep in his chest made him pull her down on top as he laid back.
"I thought you didn't want to lie down."
That was answered with a grunt. "It's not lying down if we're making love."
"Sleet, we need to go to work in a few minutes," she giggled. "You had me yesterday."
"Which means I can be quick, and there's no rule about how often I need to love you," he said between kisses.
A knock at the front door. "Silvermist!" Tink called.
"Son of a Neverland! How does she always show up right when—"
"I'm coming, Tink!" A giggle bubbled up at how cranky he looked.
"Why are you letting her know we're here!" He tried to catch her to pull her back down.
Dodging his grabby hands, she grabbed her dress and hurried to the door.
Tink grinned when the door opened, and she held up a contraption. "Look what I made for Sleet!"
Glancing behind the door, she spotted him in the bedchamber doorway in the wheelchair. He never let anyone else see him in the chair. Something brushed her shoulder and her head whipped around to see Tink come inside. "No, Tink—"
But Tink stopped in her tracks and stared at Sleet.
Humiliation and then anger burned in his glow around her heart. Like a true soldier, he rolled forward to battle head-on. "What do you want?" he growled.
"I, um," Tink glanced back at her and then him. "I did some research about human paralysis and all Silvermist would say is you can sort of use your legs. I made a walker to—"
His eyebrow not covered by the eyepatch rose, as if daring her to keep talking. A walker to him would probably seem worse than a wheelchair to use in public because it'd make his disabilities more apparent.
She stepped forward and set a hand on Tink's arm. "Thank you, Tink. That's sweet of you. I think this actually could be useful to practice PT at home." With a smile, she turned her head to Sleet with a warning look to be nice.
He simply glared.
"I think he's at a loss for words at your nice surprise."
Tink leaned over to whisper, "I think maybe it's a good thing he can't walk because he looks like he wants to chase me to the hawks."
A deep, violent throat clearing made it apparent that he heard.
She threw him a look because a Bright Fairy wouldn't have been able to hear that whisper from his distance.
"I need to take my wife to work now," he barked and pitched forward into flight to come closer, as if to slam the door on Tink.
Throwing an arm out to hold the door and block his path, she took the walker and smiled at Tink. "Thank you. I'll see you at work in a few minutes."
Tink stepped back onto the porch. "Oh, I can fly with you."
"I'm perfectly capable of taking her to work!" he snapped and slammed the door.
"Sleet! That was rude!" She opened the door to see Tink standing there with wide eyes. "I'm sorry. I'll talk to you at work in a few minutes, alright?" Embarrassment over his poor manners burned hot.
The door pulled out of her hands and Sleet hovered there. "Sorry," he grunted. "Thank you for...that." He nodded toward the walker in her hand.
Tink's eyes softened, as if suddenly realizing that he was being uncouth because he was ashamed to have his disabilities witnessed. Lord Milori gave him flying duties, so the winter fairies didn't even know about his paralysis. Tink hesitated for a moment and then buzzed forward to give him a quick hug. "I'll figure out something better." Then she flew away.
Closing the door, she turned, crossed her arms, and looked up at him.
A sheepish look softened his features. "You're the only one who gets to see me in that chair." Then he flew over to the kitchen and sat on a barstool to work on making lunches.
"It's not a crime for fairies to know you're injured. Your soldiers have no idea and you've been training them for nearly two months like this, so it's not like you'd lose their respect."
"Like what?" he snapped and slammed down a jar of peanut butter.
Drawing a deep breath for patience, she walked over. "With the paralysis. 'Wheelchair', 'walker', 'disabled', and 'paralysis' aren't dirty words, Sleet."
He snatched a plate near his hand and hurled it at the sink where it shattered. "I don't fucking need my wife telling me I'm disabled! Every damn second of every day it's in my face!" he shouted and thrust a finger at her, so upset that his eyes narrowed. "I'm doing everything I can to give you everything we had before because you got the short end of the stick and now you have a nearly useless mate! I—"
"No!" She marched around the counter to grab his finger and shove it away. "That is not what I'm saying, and don't twist my words into that!" she shouted right back. "You have limited use of your legs and technically are disabled! The only one saying that's a bad word is you! I have never thought I got the short end of the stick, and you aren't useless! You're pushing yourself faster and harder than Spruce and the therapists say you should because you're so convinced you're worthless now!"
She thrusted a finger at her own chest. "I've never been happier with how much you've opened up to me these last couple months! I hate that you struggle to do things, but it's made you trust me so much more and we are so much closer. There are times when I'm ashamed to say that I don't regret this injury at all!"
He blinked in surprise.
She stepped closer, cradled his cheek, and added softly, "I'm so proud of you, but I also worry that you're pushing yourself too hard and too soon."
His eye searched hers, his anger dissipating into heartbreak. "I don't want you to ever regret mating me," he whispered.
Easing off the eyepatch, she held his gaze. "Have I ever broken a promise to you?"
He shook his head as tears welled in his eyes. Grief and emotional exhaustion swirled through his glow.
"I promise that I'll never regret mating you. And I promise that I'll love you even after we fade. I want you to stop pushing so hard to act like nothing is different. Different doesn't mean bad. This isn't the Alamur army. It's safe to tell fairies that you're injured. It doesn't make you weak to talk to others or to accept help."
Just then Bob chirped for the morning catheterization.
That was the final straw and dozens of terrible emotions barreled through his glow from the past two months. His face crumpled. "I can't do this anymore," he wept and buried his face in his hand.
She stepped closer between his legs and guided his head down to weep on her shoulder. "You can. My Sleet," she whispered and rested her cheek against his and held him tight, "we're going to get through this. You need to let fairies help and stop trying to carry the world by yourself. It's going to be alright."
Very quiet, but gut-wrenching sobs shook him.
Bob looked confused. When she set a finger to her lips, he silenced and his eyes grew wide like he suddenly realized Sleet was sad. He hopped onto Sleet's shoulder and gave soft, soothing chirps of summer nights.
When Sleet quieted a few minutes later, he looked exhausted and held his head like it hurt from weeping so hard. He glanced at the clock. "Great. I made you late for work. I'll go with you and tell the Queen it was my fault—"
"No, it's Friday. We're taking the day off. You need a break. I'll go tell the Queen and Lord Milori." Taking his hand, she backed up. "Come, we'll do Bob's timer and then I'll go tell them quick that we're staying home."
"I can go to the bathroom myself."
"I know. The point is to give you a break from everything today."
"You're pregnant and—"
"And it won't harm the baby one bit for me to take care of you. Stop arguing with me, husband. You know you won't win, so we may as well not bicker," she smiled and pulled free to bring the wheelchair over. "Do I get to push you?" she asked over his shoulder as he landed in it.
"No," he cut in quickly.
"Alright, I'll concede to letting you do that today."
With a watery laugh, he tipped his head back, and she met him with a kiss.