Caitlin, his angel, as he has resorted to calling her, returns about half an hour later, with quiet footsteps and slow movements towards his lying form on the bed. He watches her intently as she puts a silver tray on the nightstand and puts away his medicines on a different shelf—all in precise movements with her deft hands. Once she settles, she pulls up a chair the same shade as the bed frame and straightens as she sits down near his bed. She then uncovers the bowl from the tray she laid out and a spoon, and looks at Barry with meaning.
"You need to eat," she says, and Barry stays quiet, content to hear just her voice and do what she's asking of him. "You need sustenance. This is soup of asparagus and chicken. It should make you feel much, much better." Caitlin smiles at him convincingly, and he sits up to eat the soup. But just before he grabs the spoon, Caitlin positions herself to do the job—a wish Barry wanted but never thought he'd be graced.
They're quiet as Barry sips the soup and Caitlin fishes out, a methodical repeat of the same steps, but there's a degree of domestication in the deed and Barry feels a warmth spreading in his heart. Once they finish, Caitlin puts away the dish bowl and switches to check on his wounds and scrapes, intending to replace his bandages. Barry looks at her and follows her every action with attentive eyes, and it's when Caitlin frowns and wrinkles her forehead for the first time since they've met that he worries. "What's the matter?" "Your wounds are healing, save for the one on your left side," she says, the frown still on her lips, a matter Barry believes will be relieved by a kiss, but he doesn't move. "I may have to use a new poultice of lemongrass and witch hazel, or something else," she mutters, and Barry doesn't worry. "You may have to stay for a while," she comments, and Barry looks at her. "How long do you think it will take for me to heal?" Caitlin looks at the ceiling for a moment, and answers his query. "Perhaps a week, give or take a day," she says uncertainly, and Barry smiles at her with humour in his eyes. "I guess I'd have to be your prisoner of the castle," he says jokingly, but something in Caitlin's eyes snaps at his comment. "It's not as if I intend to keep you captive," she snaps, with enough ice to freeze him and hinder a response. He opens his mouth, but Caitlin cuts him to it.
"I don't even know your name," she says softly, as if it was an afterthought. Barry takes pause and realises that the joke might not have meant humorous to her, and clearly something happened in the past to have her snap with one statement. So he does what he does best—charm and fancy the pants off a lady in his presence.
"Barry," he says, as softly as Caitlin did, and she looks over to him. "Barry's my name," he adds as an explanation, and Caitlin offers a sharp, curt nod. "Well, sir, I hate to have you incapacitated and injured in this castle and healing, but you've yet to have everything in your body in tip-top shape for you to head off again." Caitlin's voice is cold, so unlike the caring one he heard before. He looks at her and waits for her to turn her head and look at him less sharply, and when she doesn't, he makes the noble effort to clasp her wrist and tug at her arm softly.
He gets the response he was seeking, a surprised, softer look on her face, and he speaks. "I thought we were in a place enough to warrant to be on a first-name basis, Caitlin," Barry says her name teasingly, with a hint of affection all the same, and Caitlin smiles at him. The sight does things to his heartbeat, and he waits for her to speak. "I apologise for my response earlier, if I seemed too rash. I don't want you to get the wrong idea, and my only intentions are for you to heal." Caitlin's statement is brief and on point, and while he knows her words are true, he can't help but be saddened at the fact that his betterment is all Caitlin wants and nothing else.
Caitlin looks at him with the same warmth in her eyes, and she continues. "Don't fret. It'll only take a while for you to fully recover, and then you'll be able to run on your horse and frolic in other forests." The prince in him is worried for the responsibility that's accumulated over time, but the man in him is happier for this short reprieve he's been given, albeit the injury that brought it. With Caitlin's words, he remembers his horse, and asks her about it. To which Caitlin tells him that he's well tended to and fed, and that he suffered the worst and not his charger. He relaxes, and Caitlin stares at him with an inquisitive look in her eyes. "What have you been doing in the forest?" Barry looks at her, intent to know the answer, and he raises an eyebrow. "Ah, so the questions start." "I don't mean to pry," Caitlin says, and a blush diffuses throughout her cheeks, making her look adorable. "I just want to pique my curiosity. I think I deserve an answer after tending to your wounds and carrying you for at least six miles of winter roads." It's Barry's turn to blush, as he's equally embarrassed and impressed at the declaration of Caitlin. "I was riding with my friend, Cisco," he recalls fondly, "and we were killing time. I wanted to explore the darkness of the forest, but he didn't, and we fought kindly about it until I coerced him to go with me. We didn't notice that we were in too deep, and before we could turn back, dire wolves jumped out of the trees and attacked us." Barry doesn't realise that he had been holding his breath, and Caitlin grasping his wrist softly, not her first touch, but certainly something of a surprise other than clinical presses and tests. "I don't recall much after that," he says wryly, "other than the fact that I fell to the ground and stared up at the dark sky. I hope Cisco was able to return home safely and unscathed." Caitlin looks at her with simmering anger in her eyes, and cinches his wrist. "You shouldn't have had half a mind to head to the forest just to explore. You very well should know that dire wolf attacks could render one paralysed from the waist down. You were left bleeding out. You could've died," she ends on a scalding note, and Barry feels the resentment waving off of her in waves. "I didn't," he says simply, and Caitlin isn't a bit placated by the thought, but he has to try. "I'm alive. And grateful and thankful that you were there to save me," he thinks, and asks a question of his own. "What were you doing in the forest?" "I was going for a walk, and looking for hunt." His eyebrows shoot up in surprise. "You hunt?" "Yes, don't you?" Caitlin asks, puzzled. "Surely a man like you would know how to hunt fair game," she adds, and Barry nods. "Yes, for leisure." "I hunt for sustenance," Caitlin adds. "I don't believe in killing another for survival, but it's how our world runs, unfortunately." Barry looks at Caitlin, all the while amazed and impressed at this amazing woman who could heal like a physician and hunt like an archer. "I don't either, but you're absolutely right." They both fall silent, each thinking of what the other said, until Caitlin breaks the impasse. "I've been taxing you. You must get some rest," and proceeds to arrange the sheets around him, careful not to chafe his wounds. Barry rescinds, but Caitlin is adamant and refuses to give in. "Get some rest," she repeats with much more intensity than the first time, and Barry sinks in the comfort of the pillows, not wanting to object. As he falls asleep, he thinks of what awaits him in the castle back home—and what awaits him in this castle.