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tetheredtoelena asked: "I've got you."

protegeons:

send “i’ve got you” to help my muse wash off blood from their body  /  accepting  

she should be used to it. the killing, the blood. oh, the blood. she doesn’t think she’s ever seen so much blood, so much carnage. how the pair managed to live, let alone live without so much more than scratches. she feels a little out of her head, and she cannot even wipe her face clean because her hands are covered in blood as well. 

jeremy takes her by her shoulders, ever so gently — when did he appear? she doesn’t remember hearing him approach, but suddenly he’s there, leading her into the bathroom. the room is filled with steam from the hot water he’d run from the bath he’d drawn. as she looks at him, she notes that he’s cleaned himself of the blood, save for some in his hair that he missed, and changed into clean clothes. how is he holding it together so well? 

she was taught to compartmentalize, and, surely, there are more important things they should be doing right now. but, the taste of blood, the smell of death, she fears it will linger on her for many years to come. she has hunted many, killed some, but what happened in that room was what can one can only describe as a massacre. luckily for them, their attackers severely underestimated the pair. this is what they’ve done for most of their lives, after all. 

jeremy helps her out of her ruined clothes, and into the scorching bath. she doesn’t mind the heat of the water… it reminds her that she is still alive. and while she’s aware she should be cleaning herself, she still feels hundreds of miles away. when she looks up at him as he runs a wash cloth over her skin. she knows she should be worried about him, he’s still recovering, after all. she should be taking care of him. all of this, it could make him worse. 

but right now, he seems strong. which she is glad for, because she doesn’t even remember what strong feels like. she only remembers this numbness that’s inside of her, this great hollow emptiness. she realizes, only now, that he’s talking to her. that, perhaps, he’s been talking to her this whole time, trying to bring her back from wherever her mind is.   i’ve got you.   he does. he’s being strong for her because she can’t be at the moment, and he doesn’t even fully remember her or the life that she shared. the attack must have been…

jeremy,   she says, softly as he wipes clean her face. she’s starting to come back. and the first thing she thinks of when she can think again. the baby. her hands move to her stomach, and her heart is still for a moment until she feels the fluttering of kicking feet. she’s okay. tougher than her mother is right now, honestly. she takes deep breath, turning her attention back to him.   lean your head over the edge, she asks. 

and she gathers water in her hands, washing the blood out of jeremy’s hair. and then it’s her turn, but with her long locks, it takes a significantly longer time to clean. when they’re done, when they’re both clean, and he’s helping her out of the tub and wrapping her in a towel, the bathwater has turned a bright red. she stares at it as it begins its decent down the drain, she stares until the tub is emptied of bloodied water. then she turns back to him. 

he’s handing her her bag of clean clothes, and then he leaves her to get dressed and to gather their things. when she emerges from the bathroom, she forces herself not to look at the bodies, less she lose the little bit of sense she’s regained. she cannot help but notice, though, that her weapons had been gathered from the scene and put into a bag. she zips that bag close, taking ahold of it before she looks at him.  ‘ we need to go home.

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