Song listened to: 'Back to the way I was' by Jem and the Holograms

Despite the deep gash slashed against his chest, oozing warm red down his front, Paul scrambled sluggishly to his friend who had fallen as still as the dead. She had looked down to her hand, when she pulled them away from the pressure, she had been pressing to the gushing wound, and had to look up from them. The red dripped like paint from her fingers, her focus completely on the color, on the thick substance coating her little hands, and he knew she had left him there alone.

"'Keelah? 'Keelah? Can you hear me?"

She didn't acknowledge that she heard him, and he flinched at the pull on the injury he'd been dealt as he crawled forward, not liking the way she was focused completely on the red.

"'Keelah please? Please don't leave me? I don' wanna lose you again."

"Its…." Her voice shook, as soft as it was, and it cracked brokenly "So much red…There's so much red, Paul…I can't get it off…."

He was one of the few who knew what the young ones had been through, the horror they lived through, as the young ones had no one to rely on but themselves and each other. He'd seen his friend drive broken pieces of glass into others, to free herself from their capture, and the skin break open around the sharp edge freeing red blood to flow down her fingers and stain her tattered robe. Red was everywhere. They were all soaked by it. Every last one of them.

"'Keelah you didn't mean to. You had to. The red isn't there anymore. There's more color now."

Paul whimpered and pressed his own hand to the glistening gash over his midsection, turning to look down as dizziness overtook him, but was still concerned for his friend too. Akeelah was still staring at her hands in horror, not uttering another word, when he fell to the side from how dizzy he was. They were alone, one traumatized fledgling lost in thoughts too dark to want to remember, and a youngling in training for the warriors slowly bleeding out from the wound he'd been gifted from a suddenly appearing enemy.

His vision was going blurry, when he saw the hands curl over his own, and he looked up to the familiar face hovering over his own. Nisroc looked worried as he pressed his hands firmly to the bleeding wound on his charge's chest, applying a pressure that the youth couldn't, and the youngling hissed at the pain from it.

"This is why I say to stay at our side.", he looked sharply over his shoulder "Oren! They're over here!"

Another set of hands pressed to the wound, and he turned to see the familiar sight of the captain of the Virtues on his other side. He pushed them away though, as much as he could, and gestured toward his friend, throwing his arm at her, pulling away from their hands in his need to get to her side again. They didn't know, they wouldn't understand, Akeelah kept her secrets, they all did from their place in the war, and they didn't know.

"The…red…."

Oren tried to pull him back around and when he stubbornly pulled away again, attempting to crawl from their grasp to his young friend, the Virtue snapped heatedly at the Power "Nisroc! Control your charge!" and the Power tried to pull him back, closer, so that his wound could be tended to lest he continue bleeding out, but he stubbornly fought against them, as weak as he was from blood loss, and the stern 'Paul, be still' from his guardian because he needed to get back to his friends side.

"Nis…. help…. help…. her…."

"Puriel will tend to her, we can wash it off, get a new robe. But you are losing much blood, you need to lay still, turn back over."

"No…You…." He lost his fight, in in weakened state, and was turned back to lay between the Power and the Virtue, so he instead reached out to grab their wrists with slick red hands "the…. the…. red…"

"Yes, the blood is red, it stained her robes, she will be cleaned up and dressed into clean ones."

"Lay still and let me work."

Nisroc let his fingers remain curled around his wrist, but Oren pulled his free to press his hands back to the wound, pushing his grace into it, and the skin began to knit itself back together slowly and surely. It would smart for a while, and most certainly leave a scar, but it would heal. Paul shook his head, aggravation setting in when he couldn't make them understand, couldn't they see? Oren as a healer should know what was wrong with her. Nisroc too, as he was a Power, he has seen what becomes of those who continue to relive on the battlefield. He grabbed the Virtues left wrist again and pulled sharply, the healer yelped as he was pulled around, having focused on the wound he was tending to.

"The…red…the…. red... stained…hands…. help….'Keelah…. Nis…. the red…..."

He felt relief flood through him when both of their heads finally shot around to look towards the fledgling, Puriel was kneeling in front of her, but she hadn't moved as she just sat there staring at her red hands. She shivered, quaking where she sat, staring unblinkingly at her hands. Nisroc swore under his breath, something so out of his character, and turned quickly to the Virtue across from him "Can we move him?" Oren nodded at once, turning from the fledgling to look down at the nearly sealed slash on the younglings chest "Yes, we can move him, straight to the infirmary, but we can move him."

"Good." Nisroc brushed his hair back in affection "Be brave for me, little warrior."

Oren nodded at him once as he scooped the injured youngling up in his arms, and the Power bolted from where he sat on his knees, bent as he ran to the fledglings side. Akeelah made no acknowledgement of his sudden appearance, Puriel backed away at his taking over the matter, and said nothing as his Captain merely scooped the shivering fledgling into his arms, despite her change in position her eyes never broke from their stare.

"The red. Its everywhere. Its so red. I didn' want to. I swear I didn' want to. It's so red."

Was the steady stream that whispered from her lips as Nisroc took her up in arms, Puriel's brows creased in confusion and worry, looking to his Captain for answers. He shook his head firmly, having fallen into the mindset of Captain over that of friend and brother, "Alert the others of our findings and return. Go ahead and ensure that the Healer is available and ensure that Rahael is present." The fellow Power saluted once, pounding a fist across his chest, and jumped into the air to alert the others and carry out his orders.

Her steady stream of whispers fell into his ear as he tucked her in close, opening his own deep navy-blue wings, and thrust them into the sky above.

Rahael was present when they landed, waiting at the entrance, wringing his hands together anxiously for their arrival. Nisroc landed solidly, bending at the knee slightly as he did, and hurried forward with his own bundle, Rahael ran forward to meet him halfway and visibly analyzed the situation in quick pace.

"She's in shock!", he grabbed onto the Power's arm and pulled him forward, turning to get them both to the infirmary as quick as he could manage "We must hurry before shock turns to panic!"

He led them to a bed, next to the one that held the Power's charge, and motioned for him to set her down as he turned to a healer passing by.

"You! I need a blanket, a thick one, and some rags to clean the blood off her hands! Go, go, hurry now!"

The healer took off at the order, running around others, her hair flying behind her as she moved with haste to gather what was instructed of her. Akeelah remained unresponsive to his attempts to arouse her from her trance, and Rahael turned in quick succession away from her as the other healer returned, waving the Power away in knowing that he would want to see to his charge. Nisroc was grateful but shot one last look to his young little friend and turned to look in on young Paul.

"Help me undress her, quick now, with haste." He grabbed onto her top and lifted it gently over her head, guiding it down and over her arms, lifting her for the young woman to pull the fledglings bottoms off. "The rags, the water, bring them now. Ready the warm blanket." The healer nodded at the orders given, setting the bowl and rags at his side, and stepping up on the other side of the bed with the blanket open to curl around the fledgling when she was instructed by the elder.

Rahael soaked a rag with a steady quick hand and rubbed away the red blood from her chest where it had soaked through the front of her robe, rubbing in soothing circles and applying enough pressure to draw her back to the present.

"Come, little Akeelah, there are so many who want to see those pretty eyes. Come back to us now."

He spoke with a softness that was reserved for the patients who suffered through episodes of shock and panic.

Rahael took one of her little hands in his, fingers curling around her wrist, and wrapped the tiny thing in a clean rag completely.

"I know it stains your hands, little one, but even stains can be washed away." Her head twitched, turning to stare at the hand that he had just cleaned the red off of, and he took it as progress despite it being the smallest of gestures "See little one, the red can be washed away, it can be cleaned, wash it away little one. Let it wash away." He reached for the other red hand, the fingers twitched, uncurled, reached even, for the clean rag and he gently encased it in the warm rag, "That's it. Let the red fade, let it wash away from your hands, watch it be washed away. Watch." Her eyes focused on her hand, wrapped in the rag, and watched intently as he slowly wiped the remaining red away to reveal a pale little hand underneath it all. He waited on bated breath, for any sign of return or the onslaught of panic from such shock, and then her eyes slowly turned to look up at him instead. Rahael smiled down to her with a gentleness "Are you with me?" she took a moment to think it over and slowly nodded, the bed dipped at his side, and he turned to see what had caused it.

The boy had broken free from his guardian and healers, and returned to his friends side, her head slowly turned, and her eyes locked onto his as he climbed up on the bed with her. Tears began to glisten in her bright blue eyes, and the boy crawled forward, falling on her as she jumped forward for him. Both young ones curled around each other, the boy resolute and protective, and the fledgling sobbing into his shoulder apology after apology.

Rahael rubbed his hands over his face, gesturing for the healer aiding him to get rid of the reddened bowl and rags, and she did with the same haste she had gathered them up with. The Power stepped up behind him, the Healer stepping around to kneel beside the two young angels, clinging to one another as though they served as a lifeline to one another, he whispered something to them that they couldn't make out, but whatever it was had an effect.

They both uncurled slightly, allowing the Healer to lift them both into his arms, and he held them close as he turned to leave them where they stayed, watching the Healer walk through the beds with two young angels clinging to him as though he were a lifeline for both of them.

His humming echoed around the unnaturally silent Infirmary, and they settled under his touch, the little ones sobs came to a hiccupping silence, before her eyes closed completely. The youngling was perched on his hip, head resting on his shoulder, legs hanging limply downwards, and they watched as the Archangel made his rounds through the various patients and slowly made his way back to their side.

Nisroc took his sleeping charge up in his arms, his grip loose as he curled around him, legs hanging limping around his waist, the head of curls coming to rest on his right shoulder silently and arms curling around his neck loosely, before he tightened his grip around the boy, he was so fond of.

He reached with the hand not wrapped under the boy's bottom, and stroked the fledglings tear soaked cheek, "Will they ever be okay?"

"With time." The Healer looked between them both before meeting the eyes of the Power before him, "With much care and time."