He was wrong. God help him but he was wrong. Never had he felt pain like this, like a million scorching needles pricking his skin constantly, until it was like his skin was trying to detach itself from his body and escape this pure agony of torture. His body jerked up and then back down, his spine arching off the damp floor beneath him, sweat gathered upon his clammy skin in pools. He tried to fight against the convulsions of his muscles as he gingerly lay back down, before blinking open his eyes and trying to assess the situation through his tunnelled vision. The first thing that hit him was the icy ground he found himself laying upon, the cold seeming to seep through the little projection of the bandages wrapped tightly around his right arm and torso. As soon as his mind processed the coldness of the ground he found his body shivering violently, the incessant movements jarring his wounds and emphasising the abuse he'd put his body through recently. The second thing was the smell of wet moss. It clung to the air, seeming to weigh it down with its omnipresent odour.
Closing his eyes, he sunk his teeth into his bottom lip to stave off the wave of dizziness that threatened to over come him, the coppery taste of blood filling his mouth, his mind becoming nothing more than a battlefield for everything to accumulate; all the pain, all the damage sustained, the hopelessness of the situation, the borderline paranoia of being found again by the beasts, all this intensifying within his mind until he felt like he was going crazy. He heard a high pitched wail bounce off the walls around him, and it took him several seconds to realise that the sound had come from his own mouth as his body fought against itself, doing more damage than good. He felt the cool press of something incredibly soft against his forehead, a cool tide of peace seeming to emit from whatever it was and he found himself once again drifting aimlessly into unconsciousness.
Someone was there; he could feel the dark presence hovering by the side of him and his body tensed, waiting for the attack. After several long agonising moments he felt the presence shift its attention away from him and begin shifting round their surroundings. Internally warring with himself over the intellectually smart decision of opening his eyes or not, he found a body coiling around his own, silky air brushing tantalisingly against his left arm as a delicately toned arm wrapped itself around his upper torso, a slender leg around his own. The heat that seeped through the pores of his skin, instantly relaxed him and Darien found himself drifting back into the ever-encompassing darkness.
She was worried, though she would never admit it. The wound on his shoulder wasn't healing nearly as quickly as it should have for a being of his calibre and he still hadn't woken fully from the fever since it had first taken hold of him… and that had been three nights ago. She watched helpless as he moaned and groaned, his body often thrashing about as if fighting some invisible foe, one she couldn't help him with, perspiration coating his body from head to toe, collecting with the blood and soaking his bandages, sticking his hair to his forehead until it hung in limp strands around his closed eyes.
Only as her gaze made its way back to his face and she stared down at him his eyes weren't closed, they were open and staring into hers clearly for the first time in three days. She held herself, tense to any sudden movements he might make. She watched as his eyes bored into hers before darting around their surroundings, though she wasn't sure how much he'd be able to see in the darkness provided by night and the darkness of being in the cave itself. Her face betrayed no emotion as his gaze returned to hers, the midnight blue flame of his irises swimming around the shinny black of his pupils, which, as he continued to stare at her, or more specifically her lips, began to dilate, swallowing the flame until only a thin layer ringed the enlarged pupil.
Night wing found herself unable to maintain his burning stare, her heart beating erratically for some unknown reason as she distracted herself with tending to his wounds. She watched for any signs of discomfort on his behalf as she used one of her smaller blades to sliced through his t-shirt masquerading as bandages. Once revealed, her hands ghosted over the wounds covering his body, assessing how far along the healing process they'd come. Sighing at finding almost no difference to the last time she'd checked them Night wing removed the bandages from where they'd fallen around his body, finding herself sympathising with the wince he gave when she lifted his back slightly to remove them from underneath his body.
And she froze, her hands suspended in the air as she finally registered what she'd just done. She'd sympathised, she'd felt worried about his well-being. He was her enemy, her adversary, she wasn't supposed to be feeling these sort of emotions, heck she hadn't felt these type of emotions for centuries and to suddenly have them emerge for some she'd been trying to kill not so long ago was a kick in the proverbial backside. She quickly rose from his side and made her way over to the fairly clean pool of water that had gathered in the cave, methodically washing the blood, sweat and grim from the bandages, refusing to analyse the numerous thoughts clambering for attention in her head. Quickly rinsing out the water from the strips of cloth she laid them aside, wishing once again for the help of a fire to help them dry quicker and keep them warm, but that would only make them easier prey for the beasts that hunted at night, something she was loath to become, she had always been the hunter, not the hunted, even when she had been mortal. The thought of cowering away from a challenge like she was doing now sickened her and she almost resented the man that had forced her to betray her natural instincts and hide.
Shaking her head to dispel her thoughts, Night wing made her way back over to his side, using one of the damn clothes to wipe away the sweat beading on his skin as well as the fresh blood that was seeping from his various wounds. She felt the intense weight of his stare, his obvious surprise at her gentle treatment of his body and the deep stirring within herself that reacted to her touching his skin. The vibration of the air's particles alerted Night wing to Darien's attempt to speak, his words coming out so croaked and so faint that Night wing had to lean close to his mouth and strain to hear two simple words:
"Thank you."