For Jade and Juno, and kpmindc, and spreadthepeace, and NeverHadAClue, and jannay, and all those I forgot! This is long and probably weird. Sometimes it's extra hard to translate the images in my head into actual words. This is almost made me want to post it as an actual story, but hey... I hope not too much got lost in the interstices here... Let me know what you think.
...
It had started with a slight raspy feeling in her throat. She'd thought it was because of all the singing she'd done - her way of killing time. She wouldn't have to tell Enzo that she hadn't touched the stupid guitar even once while he was gone. The strings just always hurt her fingertips and she had not been in the mood for that kind of pain.
So she had sung. And then her throat had started acting up and she'd downed a glass of lemony water with honey to soothe it. She'd fallen asleep in her bed, cuddled up under all the blankets because a sudden inner cold that had nothing to do with the winter outside had made her shiver.
When she'd woken up again, her nose had been stopped up, her head had felt like it was ready to explode, and she'd not even made the effort to try and get up till it was almost noon and her bladder demanded a break.
Bonnie crawled out of bed and slowly made her way to the bathroom. She felt dizzy and tired and every step hurt. Her limbs were so achy. Of course she'd end up with some type of bad cold or flu during her stay out here. Far away from any pharmacy or doctor, and not even Enzo there to take care of her.
Well, if she was honest, the latter was probably for the better. She'd have been too embarrassed to have him see her like this.
Once she was done, she washed her hands. It was a chore… She leaned heavily on the sink and stared at her dull reflection in the bathroom mirror. Her hair looked like a bird's nest. Her eyes had the sheen of fever, and her throat looked positively swollen. Great. Just great, she thought and decided to just hobble back over to the bed and try to sleep some more.
No. She grimaced. She'd at least have to put a fresh shirt on - and wash herself a little bit before doing so.
She was in the middle of cleaning herself up when she suddenly heard a car approach outside. It made an unmistakeable noise in the harsh snow that covered all the way to the cabin, and she was alert instantly - despite the state she was in.
She felt her pulse in her ears, an uncomfortable feeling, and she did her best to hurry and put a wide gray shirt on before the car stopped.
When it did, she was already by the door, the long gun in hand that Enzo had given her "in case of an emergency." She'd asked him what kind of emergency he'd imagined, but he'd only given her a look. She didn't expect him back till at least another few days, so who could it be? Alexandria? Had she found the hideout?
Would Bonnie stand a chance against the woman and her Armory soldiers? Probably not. Especially not in her current state. She felt her nose start to run, as if to remind her. She pressed her teeth together. She didn't even dare to sniff because every sound she made seemed magically enhanced and way louder than it should be.
She positioned herself so that she could look outside the window. She checked, then let herself fall against the door, relieved. It was his car. He was just early.
She slumped down on the couch and waited for him, ready to give him a lecture. Why hadn't he called her, or at least messaged her a quick word of warning that he'd be back earlier than expected.
He could have asked her whether and what he could bring. She'd craved oranges for the last two weeks, for example. But no…
…
When he still hadn't exited the car ten minutes later, she started to become suspicious. What the hell was going on? Was he, perhaps, not alone?
In her feverish head she decided it was safer to just walk out there and confront him - and whoever he might have brought, than wait inside, a sitting duck. So she donned her long overcoat, haphazardly wrapped her scarf around her neck, pulled a beanie over the mess that was her hair, and walked out, gun still at the ready.
"Enzo?" She called out. The snow ate half of her volume. The air was icy and so crisp that it made her nose tingle. "Enzo."
When she'd walked all the way over to his car, she finally caught a first glimpse of him through the windshield. He was leaning far back, staring at her, one hand clenched around the steering wheel as if he was holding on for dear life. She furrowed her brow and jerked her head as a form of question.
"What are you doing here?" She rounded the car and came to the door on the driver's side. She opened it with a mittened hand and it sprung toward her easily. She could hear him breathe then, but he still didn't say anything.
His breathing came in short labored bursts and she was instantly more alert, more worried.
Their gazes locked, his wide dark eyes held no explanation of what was going on, but he stared at her as if she was the one thing that kept him from succumbing to unconsciousness. His breathing normalized the tiniest bit, though it continued sounding rather erratic. "Don't pass out," she begged and his lips curled into the trace of a smile.
"You didn't get yourself shot again, did you?" Bonnie quietly scolded and half climbed into the car to see what she could do. He made a sound when she gently but firmly pried his one hand off the steering wheel, forcing him to relax the arm. A moan perhaps, a gasp, but other than that he showed no reaction.
"Because," she continued, forcing herself to keep her voice level and without worry, "we had a deal. This was not to become a regular occurrence."
This got a small pained chuckle out of him, more like a burst of air than anything.
She was trying to unbuckle him, which meant she was leaning half over him. She could feel the heat coming from him, a stark contrast to the air surrounding them. "Care to help me out a bit? I don't think I'll be able to carry you out of here…"
He jerked his head up the tiniest bit, a nod of sorts, but then he flinched and froze. Still no words, just another sound of pain. She frowned at him.
"Enzo. You're scaring me. What can I do? Can I do anything?"
His jaw was clenched against whatever pain was raging in his body, but finally he managed to lift his right arm and he touched the collar of his jacket on the left side, just a flutter of his fingers. She followed his movement with her eyes, then looked at him again. A question remained unspoken before she pulled the fabric away and gasped in shock. He jerked away from her touch, turning to the side. She let go immediately.
"Who did that?" She asked and was afraid of the answer. "What?"
It almost looked like a large chunk of his lower neck was missing, the clavicle crushed. The skin around it looked raw and broken, muscle and sinew visible.
And were those… bitemarks?
"Please tell me this wasn't a werewolf," she breathed, unaware that there were tears starting to well in her eyes. He grimaced, his lips forming a pained line. The small expression was answer enough.
"Sorry love," he finally choked out, and she could see how much talking hurt him. She briefly thought of her own sore throat and almost chuckled. What stupid coincidence.
Of course fate would make it so that she'd have to take care of someone in bigger need just when she had been so ready for someone to take care of her. Someone to bring her milk with honey, and cough syrup, and sit by the side of her bed, holding her head, reading her a story, making sure she slept…
But no. Here fate sent Enzo back to her not to take care of her, but so that she could try and take care of him once again.
For some reason, the thought wasn't as disappointing as it should have been.
She looked at him again, her brow furrowed with worry. She tried to smile for his sake as she saw actual fear in his eyes. Why hadn't his people - the Armory - brought him in to take care of this? Why was he here? How had he even made it out here without passing out? Again…
"I need you to help me, Enzo," she said sorrowful, "you need to try and get up, okay? We need to get you inside…"
He stared at her, she saw him try to work up some last remnant of strength and she heard herself cajole him, "You can do this, come on. Please…"
Together they managed to get him out somehow, and into a standing position, heavily leaning against the car, while she held him up from the other side. She was so close to him that his heat made the cold bearable for the first time since she'd gotten the flu.
She couldn't believe this was actually happening, but here she was, trying to get that strong man that usually towered over her to put his weight on her while she walked them over to the cabin.
What they must have looked like, had there been anyone to see them:
A tiny woman in thick winter clothes, wild brown curls escaping from under her beanie, while she had a much taller man's arm draped around her neck and dangling down so that she could hold onto it and to his side to try and keep him upright and get him to walk with her. His skin looked ghostly pale against her much warmer tone, but his hair was darker than the night.
Later, she'd have no actual recollection of how exactly they had made it into the small cabin, but they had. As soon as they stepped foot in it, his body slid out of her grasp and he slumped down on the floor. She could barely manage to soften the movement and have him stay seated against the wooden wall next to the door.
She sighed and gnawed on her lip. She felt a sob build inside of her. He couldn't die. He couldn't die now and leave her alone. Not when she'd finally allowed herself to start feeling something for him. To actually care about him.
She tried pulling him up, but he just stared at her, pleading wordlessly to stop.
"I can't get you up," she cried, losing all countenance. "I can't get you up…"
She slumped down right next to him, allowing him to see her swimming eyes. He lifted an arm, the one he could lift, and gently wiped her cheek, sorrow in his face. She rested her head against his for a moment, the flu catching up with her, making all this even harder. She started coughing and excused herself.
The cough raked through her body, and left her weaker. "I'm sorry. I caught a bug…" she said offhandedly. When she saw his worried expression, she started laughing.
"You're worried about me," she stated, flustered. Flattered. "You're actually worried about me. While you sit here, looking worse than I've ever looked in my life - and I've died a few times, so…"
"I bet... you always… looked… gorgeous…" he muttered, a small smile on his features that looked so out of place it was almost funny. If she hadn't been so worried about him…
She gave him a look. "Yeah. Right. Anyways." She coughed again, harder. "We need to do something about this." She pointed to his injury and he let his head drop, defeated. But then he patted the left side pocket of his jacket. She shot him a quizzical look as he took out a strange golden object and handed it to her.
It was a locket. She stared at it. Turned it over, looked at it. There was a sun embossed on its front, a half moon speared by something - rays of the sun perhaps? - on the back. She tried opening it, but the small lock mechanism didn't budge.
"Please tell me this is some secret cure for the bite of a werewolf," she said, only half joking. But when she looked back to him, his eyes were closed and his head had sunken down on his chest.
"Enzo?" She said, but she didn't expect a reply. She knew his body had finally given in to the looming unconsciousness, and deep down she was relieved. It was one thing to know someone had endured pain in the past. It was a whole different matter to actually witness that pain.
She got up abruptly. "I need to get something to… to take care of this- of you," she whispered affectionately, but of course he couldn't, wouldn't hear her, so she fell silent. She went on her way to the bathroom, hurriedly gathering whatever supplies she could find to treat and dress a wound like his.
Towels, latex gloves, antiseptic ointment, hydrogen peroxide's more potent - and more burning - cousin, antiseptic bandages. It would have to do. She ran back to him, or rather stumbled, her own fever not helping at all.
Carefully she pulled his jacket away, then his shirt. She cut away part of it to get better access to the maimed flesh underneath. She shivered and closed her eyes briefly. Then she struggled to get the gloves on. This was so not something she wanted to be doing. Her fingers busied themselves dabbing here and there, but she really didn't know what she was doing and when she scrutinized some object in the wound, she wondered whether she'd need to take it out. She literally gagged at the thought.
"Pull yourself together, Bonnie Bennett," she chided herself, and straightened her shoulders, taking a deep breath. Then, carefully, she touched the thing with one gloved finger and tried to pull.
Without warning, Enzo jolted up as if he'd gotten shocked, yelling in pain, before he slumped back against the wall.
A loud panicked scream escaped Bonnie before she got herself back under control. She held a soothing hand against his chest. "I'm so sorry," she whispered, staring into his now wide open eyes.
"That's my bone, love," he drily stated, and she swallowed hard.
"I'm… see, I'll make it worse. We need to get you to the Armory. I don't care if they lock me up, I can't have you die on me-"
"No," his voice was surprisingly vehement for a mere whisper. "No," he repeated, a little calmer, and she felt his hand on her arm. "They… don't care about me. What they… do… care about… is… the locket. It's…" he was out of breath, but desperate to get it all out before he'd pass out again. She tried to keep him from speaking but he shook his head, setting off his pain again and he had to collect himself. His breathing had picked up again. Too short, too shallow.
"Enzo, please try to stay calm-"
"Bonnie. There's… magic in this… locket. Powerful magic. It might… it belonged to a werewolf witch."
Bonnie raised her eyebrows. Now there were werewolf witches too? Geez. But she tried to concentrate on what he said. If the locket had belonged to a werewolf witch, did it have magic properties? Could it possibly help her heal Enzo?
He swallowed and stared at her. "Alex… really wanted this… and if I know anything, it's to not just give someone something they… so desperately want. Unless… they give you something… in return." His last word was just a breath, and Bonnie gently cupped his cheek.
"Okay," she said, smiling a little, but mostly frowning. "Okay. We'll… we will offer her the locket in return for the antidote," she concluded, but he shook his head again. Stop it, she wanted to yell when she saw the pain that it caused him, but she caught herself and just used her hands instead to still his movement. Her face was suddenly only an inch or two away from his.
His breath touched her lips, she was so close, like a warm caress. She shook her head, jolting herself back into the here and now.
"What then?" She wanted to know.
"Can't let her find you… can't… go anywhere, either," he gazed down at his body, defeated.
And then she finally understood. He was willing to die for her. He held everything he needed to get better in his hands, but he'd chosen to come here instead. To come here and die and protect her from the Armory.
Because if he'd let them take him in his current state, Alexandria would have had an easy time getting her much needed information out of him.
So he'd fled.
He'd done all of this to protect her. And he was still doing it.
Why then even mention the locket? Because he knew she was a witch. And even though currently unable to use her own magic, she could still use the magic of objects. Objects like the locket.
She just somehow had to try and learn what powers it held and how to express them…
She rolled her eyes. Easier thought then done. He'd wanted to protect her. He was willing to die for her. But she was not willing to accept that! He was not allowed to die. So she had to deal with the burden of trying to help him heal.
But first…
She still held his face in her hands, his gaze was on hers, his breath - so erratic but so alive - still warm against her lips. And then…
She kissed him, her lips gently on his, Bonnie Bennett kissed Lorenzo St. John. It was a salty kiss, first gentle, then harder. A feverish kiss, grateful before it became something else.
Passionate.
Until she heard him hiss out again in pain and she knew it was time to stop. So she did, she pulled away abruptly, still staring at him, the sheen in his eyes betraying the passion by being so obviously from a fever eating him up alive, but she accepted that, too. Because she'd felt passion in his response to her kiss. She'd felt it in those places that the fever couldn't ever override…
"I'm not gonna let you die, Lorenzo St. John," she said fiercely. "You just hang on now."
And he smiled at her weakly in return.
o … o
He was still lying on the floor by the door. She'd put a pillow under his head, and a blanket over his burning body. She'd built a fort around him, to keep any icy drafts from outside from getting to him.
She'd forced him to have one of the bloodbags he kept stored in the freezer. Just a small supply, because he never stayed too long. But he hadn't even been able to finish it.
She'd fought her own fever. The cough had gotten worse. She camped out sitting huddled against the wall, right next to where he slept an uneasy sleep and drifted in and out of consciousness. She kept trying out spells that she found through online research. She was waiting for a reply from some Wiccan she'd found through a random site dealing with all kinds of supernatural trinkets.
The locket had helped in so far as Enzo was still with her. He should have been dead by now and if she hadn't tried a couple of things she was sure he would have. He was close.
All his barriers were down. She'd never seen him like that. So vulnerable… It pained her. It also made her even more sympathetic. Affectionate.
In love.
Bonnie Bennett had realized that she was in love. With a man on death's door…
The locket seems to have healing powers, yes. But only to a certain extent. A lot depends on the "subject" you're trying to heal. Their strength, their tolerance to pain and injury.
The message popped up and forced her to concentrate on other things.
"I tried the spell you gave me," she messaged in reply, "can I do anything else?" She didn't mention she'd tried it a couple of times…
The reply tookonly a few minutes this time. Nothing else you can do. If they're strong, they'll make it. Good luck.
Bonnie was ready to start crying. Absently, her hand was playing with his hair, when she suddenly heard him mutter, "I may not get the chance to say this if I don't do it now... I… apologize for the timing, or… if this is inappropriate… but... I love you, Bonnie Bennett. You're an amazing woman… fierce, strong... beautiful… and I love you."
He'd kept his eyes closed, he was that weak, but he'd needed to get those words out. He'd needed her to know.
Bonnie was speechless. For a moment, she was simply too stunned to say anything.
There had been a time when pretty much all they'd said to each other was banter, snarky comments, jest, often harmless, sometimes aimed to hurt. But there had always been those odd moments of absolute clarity, honesty. She remembered those moments where he'd stunned her with his soul baring comments. Admitting to things he'd probably not carried on his sleeve for anyone else to read.
Her face scrunched up. She looked at him for a long time, listened to him breathing. He'd already slipped back under.
"I love you, too, Enzo…" she muttered, and she buried her face against his chest, almost embarrassed, even though she didn't know why, and there was no one to witness her.
…
When he woke up, he found her cuddled up next to him, her head in the crook of his neck - the uninjured side… Her hair was sprawled out in a halo around her, her hands little fists resting against him. She was cocooned in a thin blanket, and she was shivering. He noticed that she must have given him the heaviest blanket, and he sighed, but with affection.
She felt hot against him and he remembered her talking about having caught the flu. He felt a sting. Poor Bonnie Bennett had done all this to try and help him, and she had fought her own sickness while doing so.
Some great gentleman material he was. He cringed inwardly, then tried to get up. It was not too late to remedy that, right?
He gently draped the bigger blanket around her, then picked her up off the ground and walked her over to the couch. He barely made it there before he felt ready to pass out again. He clenched his teeth against the sudden wave of nausea and vertigo and held on to the back of the couch for support.
It wasn't a very good start to taking care of her if she woke up to him laying in his own vomit on the ground, was it? He better got it together, and quick.
He wasn't dead. So that meant she had somehow managed to save him. He wouldn't have been able to even begin to describe his feelings at the thought.
He loved her, but somehow, even that didn't seem strong enough to express any of it.
She had been there for him. She had saved him, without there being any imminent use for her. She had saved him solely because… what? Was this, then, what it felt like to have someone love you back? Just for you? He didn't even dare go there. Because he wasn't ready to deal with false hopes.
Suddenly he remembered a kiss. Had it really happened? The memory felt all too real…
Enzo bit down hard, the vertigo had passed and he needed to get Bonnie something to drink; himself too. And because he had no idea what day it even was, he was dead certain he'd need to give Alex a call.
"The hell have you been?" She greeted him as he was sitting opposite a sleeping Bonnie in the sofa chair, legs on the coffee table, slouching. His neck, his whole left side still hurt like a bitch, and he wasn't even sure he could use his voice properly, but he had to pretend all was well.
"I'm touched by your concern, 'cousin'," he said, staring over at Bonnie, willing her to wake up. He was so tired of dealing with people that never had anything nice to say. "Where is the locket. You were supposed to bring it in four days ago."
Ouch. Four days ago?!
"It proved to be a little… tougher than expected. You should have maybe clued me in on the fact that a pack of werewolves guards your fancy talisman day and night. Then again, maybe you shouldn't have sent a vampire to retrieve a werewolf treasure to begin with." He was angry. She'd never given him what she'd promised. Instead he'd gotten the involvement in a shady "family" business and multiple injuries out of their "deal." But he knew he had to continue keeping up appearances and he couldn't let her find Bonnie. He needed to keep tabs on the Armory's every movement, and there was no better way than to stay in Alex's good books.
"But," he therefore allowed, "I got it. And I'll bring it over soon. Just give me another two days or so." Absentmindedly, he touched his neck and flinched. He'd be nowhere near healed in two days. But he'd have to go. Maybe he could make it a quick deal and come back here for a bit of respite.
For Bonnie…
"Two days?" She sounded suspicious and annoyed. But he didn't back down.
"Two days."
She grumbled something. But in the end, she agreed. When he hung up on her, his neck was on fire again, and his head pounding.
But at least Bonnie was slowly waking up and sleepily trying to get her bearings. She was adorable when she was confused.
"Hello, love," he said, his head leaning against the back of the chair. He wanted to be there for her, offer her a tea, anything. But he could consider himself lucky if he managed to stay conscious. Freaking werewolves.
"How did I…"
"Get on the couch?" He completed her question and smiled, lifting his chin a little. "I couldn't possibly leave you lying on the floor, now could I?"
He noticed her cheeks getting flushed and while he loved to see her a little embarrassed, it was undeserved and he needed to put a stop to it. "It was not meant as a stab at you, Bonnie. I was perfectly fine on the floor. And we both know I landed myself in that situation to begin with."
She looked at him from under her long lashes, as if to shield her gaze. She'd always been a bit of an open book to him, in a way, her feelings often visible right underneath the surface. Even though she'd gotten better at guarding them. A development that made him strangely sad.
"You are heavy, Lorenzo St. John," she told him, and he could still hear a trace of discomfort and regret.
"Are you telling me I should watch my diet and work out more? That I'm too fat?" he joked, and earned himself a glare. That was better.
"I wanted to take care of you for a little bit, as a thank you," he let her know, suddenly serious again, "but turns out that I can't even get up off this chair…" he grimaced. "I promise I'll try again in a moment…"
She smiled. "You can't just accept help, can you? Always have to act strong and pay anyone back who somehow-"
"Well, I'm pretty sure I just accepted your help not too long ago…" he pointed to his injury, narrowing his eyes as if to gage her.
"Because you didn't have a choice?"
"Because I didn't have a…" he trailed off, suddenly realizing what she'd meant. He raised his head a little, defyingly. She'd seen through him. "It may have started out as something different, but… I'm not ashamed to admit that you are all I have, Bonnie Bennett. And I can't let anything or anyone hurt you. Not even myself."
She looked at him intently. "So you'd rather die? You'd really rather die than-"
"Yes." It was that simple. "But I didn't, did I? Because of you…"
She got up. For a moment he was afraid she'd walk out on him, that he'd interpreted the situation wrong. But then she came closer to him, till she stood right in front of him.
And she sat down. On his lap. His eyes on her. He swallowed.
"I'm not sure you heard me last night," she muttered, and her hands were suddenly on his chest, busying themselves outlining what lay under the fabric. He raised his eyebrows, a wordless question. She smiled down on him as she leaned forward till her lips touched his. "I love you, Enzo…"
And there was no injury too great, no throat too sore for what followed, the exploring tongues and fingers… The gentlest lovemaking, awkward yet sensual, with all their ailments in the way, but not too in the way to stop them.
No pain had ever been as beautiful.