FIFTEEN

Rose

Rose's mind was still a little hazy when the blackness of sleep dissolved into the quad at St. Vlad's.

Adrian was pacing.

He normally put more effort into the surroundings than this, into his appearance; into her appearance.

But this was bare. It was an exact replica of somewhere he'd seen day in, day out, for weeks now. He was wearing the same jeans and shirt she suspected he had on in real life. And she was still wearing her jeans and hoodie, the same things she'd fallen to sleep in. She wriggled her toes in her socks, a rush of affection for Christian making her want to smile, as she remembered him taking her shoes off for her.

"What the fuck?" Adrian hissed, dragging Rose back to the present. He strode over, stopping just inches from her. He threw his arms out to the side, eyes tired and raging all at once. "What the fucking hell do you think you're doing?"

She winced. "Adrian—"

"I may have just asked, but I don't want the answer. Whatever the answer is, it's wrong. You need to come back, now. While you can still salvage this. While you're still safe."

She averted her gaze. "It's not that simple."

"Of course it is," he snapped. "You're sitting ducks. You'll be killed."

"I'm not that incompetent," she retaliated, just as harsh, all her insecurities coming rushing back in a flash. "I can protect him."

"So that's what this is, is it? Trying to prove yourself?" He wasn't holding back, hands clenched to fists at his side. She didn't think for a second that Adrian would actually hurt her, but this was the angriest she'd ever seen him.

"I'm not trying to prove myself. I'm just trying to keep him safe."

"And you think helping him avoid the protection of St. Vlad's, the protection of all the guardians here, is the best way to do that? The only thing you're proving to me is that you're incompetent." He was leaning forward, breathing quick, but he didn't flinch as he said it.

She took a step back, back of her throat burning with shame, with fear, with self-hatred. "You don't understand," she muttered, looking away. She wished she could pull herself out of the dream. Take the coward's way out. Out of her choices being thrown in her face, out of her past mistakes being thrown in her face.

"You think I don't understand how broken up you are about what happened in Spokane? I'm not blind Rose. I can see how much it's eating at you, but you're repeating the same mistakes, not proving you're better. You think that when Christian's neck is snapped, or when he's looking at you with red-ringed eyes, that you're going to wish you hadn't thought you were better than everyone?"

"Shut the fuck up, Adrian," Rose hissed, eyes blurry with tears. "You've got everything wrong. This isn't about me. This has nothing to do with me. This is about Christian. He'd made the decision to leave, and I wouldn't have been able to stop him. Not in the long run. He was going one way or the other. I just didn't want him to go alone."

"Well then what the fuck is he thinking?" Adrian's anger didn't disappear, it just channeled itself elsewhere. "He's going to get both of you killed. You should have chained him to something and refused to let him out of your sight." There it was, back on her and her mistakes.

"You've never been responsible for someone's death, Adrian," she said, flatly. "You don't understand."

"So that's what this is. Some sort of misplaced belief that you're doing it for the greater good. Misplaced camaraderie. It's stupid. It doesn't make sense. How the hell could you fall for that? He's being irrational."

"Of course he's being irrational, Adrian! He just found his mom is alive and has raised an army that's killed people right in front of him. What the fuck did you think he'd be? Calm and logical? He's scared and guilty and devastated."

"And you thought the right thing was to encourage that and run off together?"

"I thought it was a better idea than trying to stop the inevitable and ending up waking up one day to find him gone, alone, and knowing the next time I see him it'll be when he's dead." She turned away, tears staining her cheeks now. Self-loathing coursed through her. She was above crying, especially when Adrian was being such a bastard to her, no matter how deserved it was. She knew part of it was spirit darkness — if he was talking to her now, he wouldn't have had a drink, and who knows how long he'd been waiting for her to fall asleep.

"Rose." He sighed. His anger faded to weariness. "You need to both come back. Lissa is terrified. She's going to lose you both."

"He just needs some time," she said softly, shoulders sagging, relieved she could at least take a break from his aggression. "He needs to wrap his head around it, and I'm not sure he could do that at the Academy. Not with all the scrutiny, with the notes continuing to come. With the funerals of those who were killed. With the gossip." Adrian had called it misplaced camaraderie, but it wasn't misplaced. She got it. She wasn't sure anyone else would.

She hadn't figured out all her own reasons for helping Christian run away yet, but talking to Adrian had revealed some of them. She'd told Adrian it wasn't about her, but it was. It was about Spokane, about Mason. Everything was about that, at least in part — she wasn't sure she'd ever escape it.

"I'm scared for you, Rose," Adrian softened further, and wrapped his hand around hers, squeezing it. More self-loathing came rushing back. Adrian's genuine feeling for her added to the weight on her shoulders. "You're in danger. Please just tell me where you are."

"I can't," she whispered, tears gathering again. Should she? Would it be the right thing to do?

Was she really able to keep Christian safe? Even for the couple of weeks he might need before he could bring himself to go back?

"Yes, you can. It's the best thing for both of you. For Lissa, too."

She couldn't look at him. "Funny. Christian convinced me this was the best thing for Lissa."

"You really think that having her boyfriend and her best friend in harm's way, where there's nothing she can do to bring them back, to even talk to them, is what's best for her?"

"But she's safe. That's always the most important thing, Adrian."

He sighed, squeezed her hand again, and then let go. "I'll be back tomorrow night."

"I know."

"I might even try dreamwalking the stubborn asshole you're with."

Her lip quirked. "You think the foul mood he'll be in all day after that will be enough to get me to come home?"

He looked like he might chuckle, but cut himself short. "You need to come home. I'm not going to joke about it. I'm scared," he said again.

"I'm scared, too," she admitted, but took a deep breath. "But I can't come back. Not yet."

"I'll just have to put my faith in the cradle robber's abilities, then," he said, pointedly.

Her gaze snapped to his. "They're sending Dimitri after me?"

"Got a proven track record, hasn't he?"

She sighed and ran a hand over her face. That was just an extra layer of complication she didn't need. Her stomach clenched.

It was a good job Dimitri couldn't dreamwalk. She knew exactly how much disappointment would be in his face right now, and she wouldn't have even been able to use the line that he didn't understand. He did understand, and he still wouldn't have done what she'd done.

The dream started to fade before she could respond to Adrian, or before he could say goodbye, or good luck, or to tell her what an idiot she was being again.

Sunlight streamed in through holes in the blinds in their hotel room. The room was much worse in the light of day than she remembered, but she didn't care.

Her heart thrummed steadily in her chest, stuttering as the thoughts came in rapid succession. Dimitri was coming. Lissa was devastated — she could feel that through the bond, now she was awake, and struggled to remain in her own head. She was sure that Adrian was telling her what had just happened. She touched her hand to her neck, where the bite was scabbing over.

Was Moira Ozera coming, too? Did she know where they were? Were they going to walk right into her band of Strigoi, sooner rather than later?

Was she going to be staring at Christian's dead body before long?

The back of her throat still burned with the need to cry, but she forced it back. She was the strong one right now.

Strong, and completely distracted. She jumped when Christian sat at the edge of her bed. He looked better than yesterday, now well slept and with her blood still pumping through his veins. "Hey," he said.

"Morning," she replied, propping herself up and swallowing an expletive as her shoulder wound throbbed at the movement.

"We need to redress it," he said, gesturing to her shoulder. "And then I guess we should get going."

"It'll be fine," she said automatically, but didn't bother arguing when he gave her a pointed look. "Yeah, okay."

"I'm not exactly a medical expert," he muttered, setting his backpack down and bringing out the antiseptic, bandage and micropore tape. "But this should be pretty self-explanatory, right?"

"Should be," she said. "Clean it, tape it. Easy peasy."

With only a second's hesitation, she turned around so her back was facing him, and pulled her shirt and hoodie over her head so she was sat in just her jeans and bra. She flexed her shoulder again, and winced. "You'll have to take off the existing one, it's in an awkward place for me to reach."

She remained silent as his fingers tentatively peeled back the tape from the current bandage, and heard his sharp intake of breath as he took in the wound. His fingers tentatively pressed against what she was sure must be angry red skin around it, but it didn't hurt too much.

"I'm sorry," he said, fingers stilling on her back.

"It's not your fault," she replied, and meant it. "It's part of the job, and it's not like it's in a bad place." Once upon a time, she would have been bothered by the thought of a scar, but it seemed so unimportant now. Especially not on her shoulder. No one would be seeing that on a regular basis, anyway.

"This is my fault," he replied, the tips of his fingers starting to gently move around the skin again. She fought the urge to shiver. It didn't hurt at all now, but his ministrations made her want to lay back and let him lull her into relaxing. She couldn't remember the last time anyone had touched her so softly, and it was soothing.

But he removed his fingers, and she heard the antiseptic wipes being opened. Her stiffness returned, expecting the searing pain. "This is going to hurt," he said.

"I know," she replied, teeth gritted.

Christian cleaned her wound efficiently, and she managed to hold in most of her pained noises. Then it was done, and she was being taped up again. It stung, but it wasn't unmanageable. "How is it healing?" she asked. "I know it's only been a day, really, but does it seem any better?"

"It's scabbing at the edges," he said. "Not quickly, but it's starting to heal."

"Good." She stretched and winced. "It's a pain not being able to lie down properly." She slipped her shirt back over her head before turning to face Christian. His face had lost its energy, and was lined with guilt instead.

She sighed, but she knew she couldn't assuage it. She knew exactly what he was feeling right now, and she'd never found out how to soothe her own guilt. Distraction was the best thing she had for him. "I spoke to Adrian," she said.

"And how much begging did he do?"

"More shouting than begging, actually."

Christian winced, and she realized she'd only added to his guilt. "Ah. I'm sorry."

She shrugged. "It's fine. It's to be expected. Actually, it was easier than the begging, I think. He'll be back every time I go to sleep, I was already expecting it."

"It must be exhausting to have not even been to sleep when you're asleep."

"It's strange," she admitted. "You might find out, anyway. He's considering dreamwalking you."

He winced again. "That's not going to end well."

She chuckled, and her stomach rumbled. "We should get some food and then figure out our next move."

"I'm not sure I can eat anything."

"Yes you can," she said, easily. "You need to eat something, it's going to be another long day, I'm sure."

"How is Lissa?"

She wondered vaguely why it hadn't been his first question. He didn't look like he didn't want to know the answer.

Lissa's anguish still tugged at the bond, drawing her in, demanding attention. She was trying her best to ignore it, to remain the somewhat positive presence she thought Christian needed. "She's struggling," she told him — she wasn't going to lie, but she didn't need to be honest about just how upset Lissa was right now.

Christian gave a humorless chuckle. "I'm sure that's an understatement."

"She's scared, and hurt, but she'll understand when you go back and explain it to her eventually." It was a lot of assumptions, but she didn't know what else to stay.

He made a grunt of acknowledgement. "I didn't want to hurt her."

"I know, and she'll know that too, really."

His face was desolate with guilt. She wanted nothing more than to wrap him in a hug, but it wouldn't solve anything, and some part of her knew she should be touching Christian as little as possible. So, she stood up, clapping her hands together. "Come on, let's get going. This hotel room is a dump, and I'm starving."

His lip quirked just slightly, clearly knowing exactly what she was trying to do, and doing his best to play along. "Okay," he agreed, pushing his hair from his face and grabbing his backpack. "Let's keep moving."