Page 60 of Something Worth Keeping
Cillian’s actual eyes, charcoal grey and fully human, stared at Julian from a mostly human face. His body slowly solidified around them, tendrils retracting, teeth disappearing. The transformation was incomplete - there were stillshadows that writhed across Cillian’s skin, and his form flickered between states - but the intelligence had returned.
“Julian.” Cillian’s voice was raw, scraped hollow. “You’re bleeding.”
“Correct. Gunshot wound, right shoulder, through-and-through trajectory. Minimal arterial involvement.” Julian swayed slightly as his adrenaline began to fade. “I would appreciate medical attention.”
Cillian’s arms - solid now and mostly human - caught Julian before his knees buckled. The shadows that still clung to Cillian’s form wrapped around Julian’s injury, applying pressure with more precision than any bandage.
“You walked toward me.” Cillian’s hands were shaking. “While I was…I could have killed you. I wasn’t…I couldn’t think, couldn’t control…”
“But you didn’t kill me.” Julian leaned into Cillian’s chest, letting him take the weight. “It’s all to do with pattern recognition. You wouldn’t hurt me even when you weren’t fully conscious. The data supported the hypothesis.”
“That’s not data. That’s faith.” Cillian’s voice cracked. “That’s insane.”
“Faith is belief without evidence. I had extensive evidence about your protective responses regarding my safety.” Julian tilted his head to look up at Cillian’s face, which still bore traces of too many eyes around the edges. “You’re literally holding me while applying pressure to my wound despite being in a transitional state between void-monster and human form. My hypothesis was sound.”
A choked sound emerged from Cillian, half-laugh, half-sob, which was better than the roar-scream frombefore. He buried his face in Julian’s hair, shadows coiling around them both like a cocoon. “You’re bleeding because of me. I brought you into this. Vane shot you because I…”
“Vane shot me because I disrupted his blood sigil while executing a tactical intervention.” Julian’s voice was getting fuzzy at the edges as blood loss began affecting his cognition. “I made that choice. Calculated risk. Good outcome - you’re alive, I’m alive, Vane is extremely dead.”
“Extremely dead,” Cillian repeated. His form was solidifying further, the monstrous aspects retreating as Julian’s presence grounded him. “I destroyed him. Completely. I couldn’t stop.”
“I noticed the excessive force. Psychologically understandable given he threatened your mate.” Julian’s knees buckled again, and Cillianlowered them both carefully to the ground. “Also, I’m going to pass out now. Blood loss.”
“No. Julian, stay…”
“It’s temporary, not critical.” Julian’s vision was tunneling, but he forced the words out clearly. “Trust me. I’ve researched the injury parameters.”
The last thing Julian registered before unconsciousness was Cillian’s shadows wrapping around his shoulder wound and Thorn’s voice yelling that they needed to get back to Shadow House.
/~/~/~/~/
Julian woke to the familiar scent of coffee and an unfamiliar ceiling architecture.
Cataloguing the details was automatic for him - the hospital-grade lighting, medical equipment humming at precise intervals, along with the weight of professionalbandaging around his shoulder. The pain had been reduced to a manageable ache, suggesting pharmaceutical intervention.
“You’re awake.” Cillian’s voice came from beside the bed, rough with exhaustion.
Julian turned his head. Cillian sat in a chair pulled close to the bed, still wearing blood-spattered clothes. His form was completely human now, but shadows pooled under his eyes and around his shoulders like they couldn’t fully detach.
“How long?” Julian asked.
“Six hours. They removed the bullet fragments and repaired the muscle tissue. It was a clean exit wound. You were right about the trajectory.” Cillian’s hands were clenched on his knees. “The doctors said you’d heal completely. No permanent damage.”
“Good.” Julian assessed his range of motion, testing the shoulder carefully. “Where are we?”
“Shadow House has a medical facility. Silas knew a trauma surgeon who wouldn’t ask questions.” Cillian hadn’t moved, hadn’t touched Julian since he’d woken. “Julian, I…what I became back there…”
“Was exactly what the situation required.” Julian met Cillian’s gaze steadily. “Vane needed to be eliminated. You eliminated him. Thoroughly.”
“I lost control of myself.” Cillian’s voice dropped to barely audible. “I could’ve killed you. You walked right up to me while I was…I had hundreds of eyes, and I was three stories tall, and I couldn’t think past rage and hunger, and you just…”
“Touched you. Yes.” Julian reached out with his uninjured arm. “Come here.”
Cillian didn’t move. “You should be afraid of me.”
“Should is a normative statement without evidentiary support.” Julian kept his hand extended. “I’m not afraid of you. I was afraid of losing you to that apparatus. I was afraid Vane would kill you before I could disrupt the sigil. But I have never been afraid of you. Now come here before I irritate my wound trying to reach you.”
Cillian moved to the bedside, but hesitation marked every motion. Julian grabbed his wrist and pulled him down into a kiss. It was an awkward angle, and the medical equipment got in the way, but it was effective for communication purposes.
