Folie à Deux

Chapter 7: Real

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Yuri's mind was a haze as he returned to his bedroom in the Lower Quarter. He fumbled with his key then staggered toward the simple bed in the corner, nearly tripping over Repede in the process. "Ugh… what's wrong with me?" he mumbled, vision swimming.

"Estelle… I… I'm sorry," he whispered through gritted teeth, talking to the wall. If only he had the courage to say it to her face - a simple apology to be sure, but one that would invite more questions. He was the only one that could even begin to fathom what he meant by that, and even then, what he knew consciously was barely scratching the surface.

If feelings were an expression of the heart, his had been bound and gagged like an enemy of reason. His tough bravado wasn't always a bad thing – he certainly couldn't have delivered justice outside the law without that hard exterior – but at times like this, he was lost.

He felt ill, but he wasn't even sure if that was real. Maybe the aches and fatigue were just due to exhaustion; maybe the twisting in his stomach was just nerves. Maybe the fever wasn't a fever; maybe it was just humility. The uncertainty extended beyond just the physical: what was his purpose, now that the world was saved and the others no longer needed his protection? Had the blood that stained his hands been truly justified? Was he really "good" deep down, or was that just a lie he kept telling himself?

He didn't even notice that Repede had wandered to his bedside until he licked his face.

"I-I guess I'm not doing too well, huh," he grimaced. "But at least here I won't end up doing anything I'll regret…"

He tossed and turned and found his way to a fitful sleep, one so restless that when he opened his eyes, he could no longer tell whether he was awake or dreaming.

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When he only got worse the next day, his loyal companion motioned as if he were telling his master he needed to go get help. The only thing that stopped him was the pleading tone in Yuri's voice when he asked him not to.

"Don't get her… she's got her hands full as it is with Rita. She's probably overworked herself again. The last thing she needs is to see me," he uttered. It went without saying who 'she' was. She was the only one on his mind. Repede growled but obeyed.

Yuri stared at the wall until he was lost in his head again.

You don't want to see her. You don't want to see her. You don't want to see her. It played in his head over and over like a mantra. But it was a lie.

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He was at war with himself, and his sanity was caught in the crossfire. He'd had dreams of death, despair, and disease. He'd been lost, tortured, bloodied, and bruised, all because of her. There were times when he believed he had hurt her, betrayed her, failed to protect her, killed her… There were so many ways he had lost her.

It was to his surprise, then, to find himself in a dream with an angel at his side. She appeared amidst the confusion, a golden glow dispelling the darkness. A delicate hand lightly caressed his cheek to find tears he didn't know had been there.

He reached out to brush her pink hair aside, finding the faces of his tormentor and savior were one and the same. Why do you do this to me? He wanted to ask her but was too exhausted, too tired for more questions, so instead he turned her face to his and drank in the sight of her in case he should ever lose her again. He didn't want the dream to end.

She seemed to sense what he was thinking, for she spoke gently: "I'm not going anywhere." Her eyes slipped closed and he kissed her forehead. No, he wouldn't lose her again.

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"Repede?"

The Princess slowly opened her eyes, blinking a few times before she was awake. She heard the familiar barking at the balcony window again and got out of bed.

"What is it, Repede?" she asked hazily as she walked towards the window. It was still dark out; it hadn't been more than a couple hours since Rita's condition had stabilized and Estelle had finally been able to wash up and get some rest. She peered out to see the dog looking rather distressed. "Is… Is Yuri all right?"

She grabbed a cloak and slipped on some boots and headed for the Lower Quarter, canine at her side.

There was no answer at the door so she let herself in. There was a form shivering on the bed, silvery trails running down his face catching in the light from the window. Two words escaped from behind his teeth that sounded like "my fault."

"Yuri?" she gasped, running to his side, abandoning any inhibition or apprehension. "Yuri, you're having a nightmare. Please, snap out of it!" She climbed onto the bed and held him in her arms until he'd calmed down, his breathing returning to normal.

Slowly, she ran her fingers down his face, wiping the salty tracks away; they didn't belong on his handsome face. Even like this, he was still beautiful.

It was then that she realized she could only see his angled cheekbones, his stubborn jaw, and those long lashes because she had unconsciously created a light source. A healing circle enveloped the two of them. She could see him and… he could see her.

His eyes were glossy but he was staring at her. He raised an arm, slowly but surely, and with the most gentle of gestures brushed her hair from her face. He traced her jaw down to her chin and slowly tilted her face towards his. Her lips parted and she could feel her heart quicken.

What are you—

He stopped and just watched her, gazing at her as if she might disappear at any moment.

"I'm not going anywhere," she reassured him softly, and a trace of a smile graced his lips.

She could feel her eyes begin to close, exhaustion washing over her. The golden glow flickered then vanished, leaving only the moonlight from the window to see by. She could vaguely feel his arm around her as her head hit the pillow. She welcomed the warmth.

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"So you've made your decision." Ragou.

"She'll meet her end." Cumore.

"And it's all because of you." Zagi.

A beast. A sword. A knife. Three more times he'd watch her die.

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Yuri woke up in a cold sweat, bolting upright and gasping for air. "Oh! You're awake," a familiar voice said, causing him to jump.

"E-Estelle…!" he stammered, noticing the pink-haired princess sitting patiently in a chair beside him. "I—"

"Shh, calm down," she said soothingly. "You were just having a bad dream, but it's over now."

He looked at her confusedly. "What—"

"Your arm," she said, reaching forward and grabbing it. She lightly ran a finger over a thin red line where a large gash used to be, causing a shiver to run down his spine at her electric touch. "I think you got an infection from that wound. Don't worry; it's not too bad – nothing like how Rita was. I've taken care of most of it, but—"

"Rita!" he blurted out. "What about Rita?"

"She's stable, thank goodness," Estelle smiled. "You don't think I would have left the castle last night if she wasn't, do you?"

"Last… night…?" his eyes widened. He shook his head. That couldn't have been… "That was you?"

The light flush on her face confirmed it had been real. She had been real. The angel, the one he'd allowed himself to hold onto amidst the nightmares, hadn't just been his imagination. He'd let himself touch her hair and hold her close, and in his uninhibited state would have pressed his lips against hers had she not been so exhausted. How could he have been so reckless?

"Sorry if I… did anything," he shook his head, his expression changing quickly to stoic. He couldn't meet her eyes. "I… didn't think that was you."

"Oh… I see," she said quietly, barely a whisper. He tried to ignore the heavy feeling in his chest as he heard the hurt in her voice. It took all he had not to explain himself, to smooth it over. He couldn't let her know. He had to keep her safe; he had to keep her away from him.

"Thanks for healing me, but I can take care of myself now," he said to the floor. The ache in his chest was overwhelming. "You should probably head back to the castle. I bet Flynn's worried about you."

"But… you're still not…"

"I'll be fine." He couldn't stand it anymore. "Please…"

He caught a glimpse of her sad eyes before she left. He watched as she walked out the door and kept staring at where she'd been. As he closed his eyes, he knew full well that he deserved every wicked dream that would come his way.

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