A/N: Takes place on a routine demon patrol gone wrong. Thank you so much to Emma Carstairs Blackthorn for reviewing, this is for you (it's a bit longer than the others)! Enjoy :)

Pain

A Blackstairs fanfic, by OTP-addict

There was something about pain that intrigued Julian. Something about the different kinds of pain; physical, mental, emotional. Something that made him stop for a moment, whenever he was hurt, and wonder, What even is pain?

"Julian!" he heard his parabatai scream from a distance.

He lifted his head slowly from where he was lying, a demon's claw protruding from his chest. The world began spinning, and he lowered his head back down.

"Julian," Emma shouted again as she reached his side. "Oh, my God. No. No, no, no!" She was shivering, Julian noticed, and crying, tears rolling down her cheeks as she ripped her jacket off to press against the wound.

He reached his hand up, wiping away the tears. "It's okay," he said, noting that his voice was hoarse.

"It's not okay, Julian, you're hurt! You're really badly hurt!" Emma sobbed, frantically fumbling around in her pockets for her stele.

He hesitated. "That's true. But it'll be alright anyway," he said. His mind was growing foggy with pain and blood loss.

He felt a burning sensation on his ribs; Emma had retrieved her stele and was drawing an iratze, her hand shaky but steady. While she drew, Emma slowly took out the claw so that the injury would heal where it was being removed, without too much blood being spilt. Julian closed his eyes for a few moments.

There was also something very specific about the pain of receiving a Mark. He had known it from the very first time a Mark was put on him, but recently something had changed about it. Usually a rune given by your parabatai was less painful, but this one, just like the few before it, stung more than a rune drawn on his skin by anyone else, or himself.

"Why does it do that?" he whispered to no one in particular, but she heard him, it seemed.

"Do what?" she asked as she finished removing the claw and drawing the healing rune. She sat back to admire her work. She had calmed down considerably, but she was breathing heavily, and there were still drying tears on her face.

"It hurts," Julian replied, his eyes still closed.

Emma was silent for a while. Then he felt her hand on his chest, right above where she had drawn the rune. Her hand was cool to the touch. Or maybe he was feverish.

"And it glows, why does it do that?" he asked again.

"It's not supposed to," she said, almost inaudibly, but he heard her nonetheless.

His wound was closing up, and his head was suddenly clearing. "What?" he said, his voice stronger now, his eyes opening.

"Why… How could you–?" She stumbled on her own words like they were stuck in her throat.

"What?" Julian demanded again.

Emma's face clouded over–and yet, it seemed there was some sort of… relief present. "You still love me," she said quietly. Her voice was a calm lake with ripples of different emotions running through it.

Julian wasn't fazed. He did still love her. He would never stop loving her. Because he saw through her charade with Mark, just as he had seen through the lies she had told him to his face the day she said, "It's not enough."

"How can you still love me?" There it was again. Pain. Pain in her voice, in her expression, in her very presence. "After everything I've said to you, everything that I've done, you still…" She sighed, an exasperated sigh full of despair and mingled longing. Shiny droplets fell, yet again, from her eyes–her marvelous, brown, gold-speckled eyes– and landed in her hair–her sublime, multi-colored, golden hair.

"I already told you," he said softly, his eyes seeking out hers and holding her gaze. "I'm not giving up on you. I know what you're trying to do. I've known from the moment I saw you reach for Mark's hand for the first time. I've known from the moment he kissed your cheek the first time. I knew from the very second you said, 'Mark and I would make sense.'"

Emma was now sobbing again. "I'm sorry," she whispered as she wept. "I just wanted to protect you."

"I know," Julian whispered back, reaching to stroke her cheek with his thumb. "I know, and you should never be sorry for that."

Suddenly Emma was gripping him tightly, her head buried in the crook of his neck, her hands wound in his hair. He wrapped his arms around her waist and breathed in the scent of her hair. "I love you," she said.

And all the pain in the world would not be enough to even graze Julian in that moment.