Chapter Four: …And Everything In Between

I.

"Wake up, berk."

There was a sensation, not unlike an explosion erupting in the side of Rhedoc's face. Everything in his body was on fire, in horrendous pain. The agony of it all was enough to make him, for one brief instant, wish he had failed. Though, by all the powers, it appeared he had not. It was hard, painful, too hard to open his eyes, and when he did, the light almost slammed them closed again. It was bright, wherever they were, and it stabbed into his skull repeatedly with a searing dagger. There was laughter, happy musical laughter, coming from right before his face, though his eyes were still blearily adjusting to the light. It soon came into focus; a beautiful woman, the most beautiful he'd ever seen, so much so his heart nearly stopped cold then and there. Her skin was the color of a soft cream, eyes brightest silver, nearing platinum. The hair, though, was the most eye-catching bit, that was a long river of shining silver, falling over small, perfectly detailed shoulders. This was the very picture of what woman was meant to be, and she stood before him, eyes scrunched into a laugh, giggle lifting to the ceiling.

He stood, slowly at first, touching a finger tentatively to the darkened red handprint on his face. Her calling card, waking Rhedoc up with a slap. His chest was wrapped in bandages which had since soaked clean through and turned a crusty ruddy-brown, hair surprisingly clean, she must have bathed him, or at least washed him, for he stood, wearing nothing but a pair of pants, as it dimly dawned upon his rapidly-awakening brain. These were not his pants, nor had he ever owned a pair like them. Slowly, he tried walking, and needles shot up through the bottoms of his feet, racing their way up his legs and over the rest of his body. A quick grimace and he was sucking it up, moving on, ignoring it. Those dangerous silver eyes glinted wildly and beautifully, and his pain was gone in the same heartbeat. He was lifting her, raising her, then pulling her closer, pressing her small body against his broken chest, and not caring about the explosion that happened there, as ribs not yet fully-healed tore through muscle.

Their lips met.

II.

They'd been keeping kip in Sigil for quite some time, according to Cierra. Apparently he'd been unconscious for over a week, and now that he'd risen, she'd gotten a cleric to fix his broken ribs once and for all. It was easy enough, with her kind of money, to put someone back together. His equipment was all there, right to the last copper penny, laid out in perfect order on a table Cierra'd brought into the room. It was a filthy little room, much like the one all this had started in, probably in the same inn. That would not do, too many people from Rhedoc's past came to the Open Shell, and he had no intention of seeing them. Not yet, not with so much left unsaid and undone. Now was time for Cierra, time for them both to be together and live together, without externals and jobs and 'have to-s' and 'why not?-s.'

"You know, I'd almost thought I'd lost you," her voice rang out like music as she glided into the room carrying a pitcher of water and two glasses. Her simple white gown clung to every subtle nuance of her body, making him wish his chest didn't burn so badly, even after the healing, "addle-coved barmy, going into Baator after me. Should have left me alone and gone on with your life."

He groaned and stood. Wonderful, now it was the 'you shouldn't have saved me' lecture. "What life is that, exactly? Not one I'm interested, not without you."

She smiled a simple, sweet smile, as though she hadn't been quite expecting a line like that from the womanizing aasimar she'd known. To tell the truth, she hadn't. Rhedoc, for all his good parts, was an inveterate flirt. From barmaids to bariaur, she'd seen him at least wink at something of every race, caste, and social type in the planes. This sort of frank monogamous speech simply caught her off guard, and she liked hearing it.

"No, I mean it. I don't want a life without you in it, I don't care how long it might go on. It would go that long meaninglessly," he continued, pushing from the bed. He lifted a knife from the belt on the table and began removing bandages. They came off with a sickening suckling noise near where the wound once was, the blood either congealed or dried, making a sort of crackling sound. It hit the floor with a combined squish, crack and flop, depending on what hit where.

"You mean it, then? What are your exact intentions, Rhedoc Gwydion?" Her eyes were full of amusement, thinking she'd called him on some grand charade, triumphant even.

He went down on one knee.

"No! Get up, berk, get up! Not here, not now, not if you really mean it!" she rushed to him, grasping his upper arm, hauling him up to his feet.

Rhedoc stood, confused and bewildered. Had not this woman just asked his intentions? Had she not desired to know what he wanted from her, for now and for always? Then why this?

"You can't just ask me. My father will be furious. First get permission from him, then ask me, by the powers, you are a berk!"

That explained it, and in short order. Awfully convenient, if you asked him. He sighed and shook his head, blonde hair falling free and into his eyes as he spoke, "Then I suppose we're bound for Elysium once more, my love?"

Her eyes lit up brighter than he'd ever seen. She seemed sublimely happy, enthusiastic, and terrified all at once. In a matter of moments, he was dressed and armored, going through his bags. Cierra's head tilted as she looked at him quizzically. A simple burlap bag hit the table with a jingle, followed by a sort of crumple of another burlap bag. His gloved hand then deftly moved to overturn the first bag, spilling gold coins out onto the table. "Your payment from Bytopia." Followed by the other bag. Crumbs and broken pieces of baked goods fell out onto the table, most of it had not survived Baator. "Cookies from your mum."

She simply laughed and embraced him. Hard. He felt as though perhaps she might put his ribcage back into its previous state with the severity of her hugging, but it soon ended as he lifted her from the ground once more, spinning her and laughing. Soon they were both laughing, and falling, lips brushing against one another's unabashedly.

III.

They stood in front of the same portal as he took into Elysium at the start of all of this, each one with an arm 'round the other, free hands clutching gilt rosebuds.

One last squeeze.

A glowing.

A sucking feeling.

A quick rush…

THUD.