Transformation

He lost himself in the feel of her in his arms, clung to the realness of it. Every passing moment — every time she shifted so she could nuzzle into him, every time she kissed what she could reach of him, and every time he felt her sides expand as she breathed, it worked to ease some of the pain he'd felt to have lost her.

Again.

The first time Lorelei had pulled the trick that convinced him she'd died, he'd only started to develop feelings for Rita, and seeing her hurt at Lorelei's hand had spurred him to an anger that'd made him able to shift on his own for the first time, made him want to rend and tear at the witch, and made him lose himself entirely to the wolf until Rita had pulled him back. This time had been different. This time, he'd been in love with her, hadn't been able to imagine going on without her; he'd wailed and screamed, wanted to die so he could join her. All the while, she'd been held somewhere else, having God knew what done to her, then was dragged out and beaten within an inch of her life. If it hadn't been for Johanna, Nate, and Becca, the illusion might've become a reality.

She thought she'd lost him, and she probably nearly had, given what Becca had said of the extent of his injuries, and how the witch was barely standing on her own two feet after healing him. He almost expressed the same sentiment to her, but it died on the tip of his tongue as she went on to mention Lorelei. She'd made him watch Rita die in such a believable way that he'd asked her to kill him. What if she had? He wouldn't be there now, holding Rita in his arms, that was for certain. What had she made Rita see? All of them? It'd been bad enough to see Rita die, but what if she'd seen them all die? For Rita, someone who felt responsible for everyone and everything, that had to be the worst form of torture.

"I'm not going anywhere," he said resolutely, shifting his arms carefully and curling himself around her in such a way that absorbed the last bit of space that'd been left between them. He had no plans of leaving her ever, much less right now, so soon after he'd been reunited with her.

He was like that still when Orvar came by and cleared his throat. Reluctantly, Leon moved so he could look up at the vampire, though there was still a point of contact he kept with Rita, with his cheek pressed into the crown of her head.

"There's a car outside waiting for you when you're ready that will take you to my plane. I'll finish overseeing cleanup, then meet you there," he said, and moved away before anyone could respond.

Leon blinked owlishly as he looked around the room. While he'd held Rita, he'd been unaware of the bustling activity around them. All the Enforcers had been cleared out. He wasn't sure how, but they were gone. Several people worked to mop the floors, with mops and buckets like they'd used to clean Rita's—No. That hadn't been Rita. The blood probably hadn't been real, either. He bet she'd even conjured the mop and broom.

"What do you think?" he said, nuzzling into Rita's hair. "Ready to go home?"

Ready to go home?

Rita pulled her head back enough to look up at him with her big, tired green eyes. She nodded slowly and took another shuddering breath against broken ribs. Her words were lost somewhere in the exhaustion that plagued her, but she thought about the feeling of being on that plane and so very, very far away from this place. Never again would she have to come here. Never again would she have to face Jenny. Never again would be dragged out into the crowd of Enforcers and labeled a traitor, beat within an inch of her life and left to die. They could finally go home and after nearly dying not once, but twice, she was ready to get a head start on that 'rest of their lives' business.

Rita shifted first, moving at a snail-like pace to push herself up from the ground. It was near impossible and everything in her radiated searing pain. She bit her cheek trying to ease the discomfort as her broken ribs shifted and the bruises littering her body ached. She could feel blood still seeping out of her shoulder, but she made no move to touch it. Hell, she couldn't if she wanted to – her haphazardly relocated shoulder was aching so fiercely that she hand to hold it as she made her way to her feet. Once Leon was alongside her, the two walked at a grandpa's pace, but Nate was waiting at the car as if anticipating their arrival.

"Hey, hey, easy," Nate said as Rita winced and he stepped close to give her a supporting arm and usher her and Leon to the car. He helped her in, muttering something about Orvar not minding blood on the upholstery this once before scooting in the other car with Becca. Rita's shoulder stuck to the leather seats, the sitting position put pressure on her ribs, and she just moved to curl up against Leon without her seatbelt. There was no plausible way she was managing it this time. By the time they got to the airport, she was nearly passed out against his side.

It all went by in a blur. There was a runway and a private plane, but she couldn't remember how she ended up on the plane, only that she got there and was seated next to Leon. It hurt to put her back against anything, or her arms, and Rita shifted uncomfortably with a permanent furrow in her eyebrows from the constant waves of pain. Becca had sleepily managed to come over and eye her with a bit of regret, but Nate ushered her to her seat and got her a blanket. Becca did so much for them today, she deserved a break. Rita would survive until then.

Hell, she had survived nearly three days of unbearable torture and pain, what was another few hours?

When Orvar finally walked on the plane, Rita mumbled into Leon's chest and clung to him closely. "Sorry about the seats," she breathed out shakily, "I know you don't like messy things."

And boy, was she a fucking messy thing.

She nuzzled her face back into the crook of Leon's neck and breathed out carefully, trying not to harm her ribs anymore. They'd been through enough.

With the way she'd been tucked into him and the way he'd curled around her, Leon didn't realize the extent of her injuries until they doddered together to the car. There wasn't an exposed spot on her that wasn't covered by a bruise, welt, cut, or smear of blood. He could only guess what he'd find under her clothes, and with the way she favored her ribs, he suspected that when he got a chance to get a good look at her, he'd discover more bruises, welts, and cuts. He wished Becca had been able to heal her, ease her pain in some way, but the witch was tapped out, and had fallen asleep almost as soon as she'd sat down on the plane and Nate had covered her with a blanket.

Rita squirmed and fidgeted next to him until she ended up mostly on him, and he immediately moved to accommodate her, figuring his arms had more ability to adapt to her than the leather chairs they sat in. That or she just wanted to be close. Either way, he didn't mind.

When Orvar stepped onto the plane, Leon realized they'd be flying soon, and it only occurred to him then to be apprehensive about it. He'd never flown before. He'd gone along with everyone else without really thinking about what he was doing, but there was movement and noise coming from the plane that probably meant they'd be thousands of feet in the air soon. No one else seemed concerned, though, so he tried to be unconcerned, too.

The vampire stopped next to his — their seat — and smiled at Rita fondly, though Leon didn't think she saw with the way she had her face tucked into his chest.

"It's quite alright," he said. "I can purchase another."

Leon forgot his apprehension and craned his neck to follow Orvar's movements as he took a seat near them.

"What, just buy another plane?"

"Mmhm," said Orvar, settling back in his chair and closing his eyes as his head met cushion. The tiniest of smirks lifted the vampire's mouth when Leon breathed out an incredulous puff of air.

Buy another plane, like he'd buy another shirt.

"Sit back," Orvar said without opening his eyes, "we'll be taking off soon."

"You should've just bought a new house when we got it dirty," Leon muttered as he turned around, and Orvar laughed.

"There are many suitable planes I could purchase as easily as I could purchase a car. That house, on the other hand, is irreplaceable. Please remember to take your shoes off before going in."

They took off shortly after, and once Leon got over the feeling of his stomach remaining on the ground as the plane climbed farther and farther into the air, it wasn't so bad. The pilot announced smooth flying back to New Orleans, and Leon relaxed further, smoothing Rita's hair with his hand as he looked out the window to the glittering night below.

He heard a seatbelt unbuckle, then felt a presence over him. Leon shifted his eyes from the window to Orvar, and lifted a questioning eyebrow. The vampire had a glass filled halfway with wine in one hand. When he held it out to Leon, he took it unthinkingly.

"I offered my blood once before to expedite your healing. I offer it again. Know that it would work instantly to soothe your pains, and the only side effect is that I would then have, I suppose you could call it a sense, of your location. It would wear off eventually unless you ingested more of my blood."

Not wine, then.

Leon made a face, held the glass out from him, and would've given it back to the vampire, but he'd already returned to his seat.

He heaved a sigh, then immediately felt bad for the way it caused Rita to shift. Leon cleared his throat. "Hey Rita, you hear that? I've got Orvar's... blood here if you're interested." He lowered his voice just above a whisper, "I think it'd be worth a try. Might make it so you don't hurt so much."

It was a shift in attitude from the time Orvar had offered and Leon had immediately rejected the idea, but this was different: she was able to give her opinion on the matter, and he trusted the vampire now. Orvar had saved their asses one too many times to make him think he was playing games with them. If he said the only bad thing that'd happen was that he'd have the ability to track Rita, then that was the only thing that'd happen.

Rita was nearly asleep when Leon's voice coaxed her from her relaxed state. It was about as relaxed as she was getting considering the broken bones, burns and lacerations. His hand smoothed over her hair as if to coax her from her little cocoon and Rita looked up at him with sleepy eyes to see the glass in his hand. It was filled about halfway with what she thought was wine at first, but she recognized the strange consistency almost immediately. How could she not? Her clothes were stained with the stuff and she had watched as it poured out of Jenny's neck in a languid fashion, pooling perfectly on the floor. It was vampire blood. What did he say? She glanced back up at Leon and understood.

Oh, it was Orvar's blood.

She was about to say no, but Leon's words were soft and genuine. When Leon made mention of how rough she looked, she knew she owed it to them and herself to do something about it. Becca couldn't heal her yet, but maybe Leon was right. Maybe it was worth a try to have a few sips and let it work on her broken bones or to quell the wounds that still actively bled on her body. If she hadn't been at risk for blood loss after she let Orvar take a bite, she certainly was now. Rita exhaled and winced at the way her ribs pushed against her expanded lungs and she took a sharp inhale to shake it back off. Especially those ribs – all it took was too deep a breath and jerking her chest the wrong way and she could puncture a lung. Then they would really be fucked.

Rita reached out for the glass but did not for a moment allow herself to hold it of her own accord. Instead, she wrapped her bruised fingers around his fingers and the glass and brought it towards her. "I'll try," she spoke but her voice was incredibly soft, easy on her airways. With as deep a breath as she could manage, Rita coaxed Leon's fingers to help bring the glass to her lips. If she did it quickly, there was no way she would taste it, right? She closed her eyes and tilted the glass back enough to take a few sips. Immediately, a terrible metallic taste filled and coated her mouth. It was thick, like a syrup as it went down and the moment it hit her throat, Rita felt her stomach lurch and pushed the glass away with what little strength she had.

Once she was sure she wasn't going to actively vomit, Rita felt painful coughs rise up in her. She brought her hands up to her face to cover her mouth as they continued on until her insides began to settle. She shook her head no and shirked away from the blood, unable to stomach what it was she was drinking. She had just watched Jenny die, the vampires' blood still on her hands, and here she was drinking Orvar's. It was the most unnatural thing she had ever done, but more than that her stomach was just weak and empty. She hadn't had anything to eat or drink in nearly two full days and the introduction of blood sent her lungs and stomach into a fit.

Rita shook her head no and tried to push the hair out of her face that had fallen. Immediately, she felt a difference. The pressure in her ribs and shoulder subsided. The bones seemed to be healing and she could feel a noticeable difference in the carved "T" in her shoulder. Blood was no longer dripping from it, though it still pained her and seared an angry red color. There was still pain, plenty of it, but far more manageable than it had been. If she had been able to stomach more blood, she was sure it would heal most of her ailments, but after being tortured for forty eight hours – the last thing she wanted was to vomit.

"Don't tell Orvar," she said barely above a whisper, though it was a bit of a joke. She was sure the man could still hear her from his seat with his freakish abilities. "I have a feeling it's really rude to vampires to hear someone nearly vomit from their blood."

"But I can breathe again," she exhaled, "but it just made me so—I'm just so tired."

She didn't move from his embrace but she shifted just a bit to make it more comfortable for the two of them and so she could finally get a clear look at him. He was beaten up and bruised too, but she wanted to be curled up with him, not just into his chest. After everything they endured, they deserved that much, right?

Helping his girlfriend drink vampire blood thousands of feet in the air wasn't something he'd ever thought he'd be doing, but wasn't that the fucking story of his life? Since he'd been attacked and cursed by a werewolf, he'd been placed in inexplicable situations with creatures from fairy tales and legends time and time again. What was a little blood with healing properties in the grand scheme of things when their world included werewolves, witches, and vampires?

He grimaced as he watched the dark red liquid ooze towards Rita's waiting mouth, and her immediate, visceral reaction after she swallowed some made him think it was as bad as he'd figured it'd be. She pushed the glass away and he didn't fight her. He wasn't willing to push more on her, even if he wondered what good the small amount she'd had would be. Orvar had given them half a glass full, surely he'd meant for her to drink more. It'd only occurred to him to turn and ask if it'd be enough when she seemed to brighten and some of the lines smoothed from her forehead. She confirmed his suspicions that she'd felt something take effect when she cracked a joke.

There she was.

Leon smiled at her, but his expression changed to one of surprise when the glass was plucked from his hand.

"It's an acquired taste," Orvar intoned as he returned to his seat. "I take no offense."

He realized she stared at him, and his smile returned— lazy, crooked thing that it was. "You look worse than me," he drawled, "in case you were curious."

Leon reached for her face, cupped her cheek in his palm and got lost in her eyes for a moment. Parts of her face were still swollen, bruised, and raw, but her eyes were clearer, though still tired. He leaned forward to press his lips against hers, and let the kiss linger. The peace he felt when he connected with her like that was a thing he thought he might never feel again, and he didn't think he'd ever be able to take it for granted now. He sighed contently after he pulled away and groped at the side of the chair as he leaned back. His grin was wide when his fingers encountered a plastic tab, and they kept leaning, and leaning, because hot damn, the chair reclined.

He scooted over so they could curl up properly with one another, and though he should've been unsettled that he'd watched them closely enough that he'd anticipated their needs again, he didn't mind the blanket that Orvar unfurled atop them.

"Rest. You deserve it," the vampire said.

Leon slept for the remainder of the plane ride, most of the car ride, and partially on his feet as he walked with Rita towards the house. He made it up the stairs to the porch without too much trouble, though each step he took felt like it'd grind his stiff joints to dust (getting old was going to suck, wasn't it?). They'd made it inside to the long, curving staircase that led to the second level of Orvar's home and he sighed.

"Stairs are stupid," Leon said with all the eloquence he could muster.

Orvar laughed from behind him, but offered his assistance by allowing Rita to hold onto his arm while Leon leaned heavily on the railing as he scaled the stairs one step at a time, sometimes dragging himself up one hand at a time. They finally made it, though. Their room. Orvar exchanged his arm for Leon's and excused himself to check on Becca and Nate. They were left alone to open the door and go inside. Leon's tired expression grew somber as he took in the plate of cookies and glass of juice that remained on the nightstand next to Rita's side of the bed. She hadn't even had time to finish them before the Enforcers had captured her.

He turned and slid his arms around Rita, but held her so he could take a good look at her under the warm but exposing lights of the room. She was grimy with blood and dirt, and had wounds that looked like they needed to be cleaned.

"I wanna crawl in bed with you and sleep for at least five days straight, but we oughta get you a bath first," he said.

Rita had expected the room to be in disarray, but if felt strange walking back in. Rita thanked Orvar as he excused himself from their presence, shifting to lean her weight against Leon instead. There was still so much of her that was battered and bruised, but it could all wait. If it wasn't life-threatening, it could wait. Even the angry carving in her shoulder could wait – if it scarred then it scarred at this point – and she wouldn't waste her time doing anything that wasn't spending every relief-filled moment she had with Leon. After everything, they deserved some time together. Just the two of them.

And she was sure Becca and Nate felt the same.

The blood had done wonders for her ribs and dislocated shoulder, but she still ached deeply. No longer did she worry if there was internal bleeding because the vampire blood had seen a stop to that, too. Everything else was really just cosmetic. Leon wrapped his arms around her and drew her attention to him, a smile finding her lips at his gaze even though it was a bit somber. She didn't doubt she looked terrible, but at least he was there. She would deal with injury after injury if it meant she got to keep Leon by her side and look up into those handsome brown eyes. He suggested a bath and her rope burns cried out in response, but she nodded her head gently. He was right, there was no way she would feel any better crawling into bed still caked in blood.

Her blood, Enforcer blood, Jenny's blood.

"Probably," she chuckled softly, "If I look as terrible as I feel, that's probably a good idea."

She reached up to press a tender kiss to his lips before they made their way to the bathroom. The sound of the tub running was a god send but it took entirely too long to peel her tank top from her skin. She couldn't reach up over her head with her injured shoulder, so she just fumbled with a tear that already existed and pulled it until the light fabric gave way. "I wish," she breathed out an exhausted pained sound, "this made me look more like the Hulk, but it probably just makes me look a little pathetic."

Once she'd shed her clothes, the myriad of bruises became abundantly clear. Even with her broken ribs mostly healed, the bruising still existed and it snaked up her body and over her shoulder. There were burns from the ropes on her arms and burns from the taser littering her chest, back and neck. There were cuts along her body too, most just slices across skin, but the angriest of course being her shoulder where the knife had been cut through muscle and skin. It felt a lot like bearing herself out of armor and she needed Leon's help to maneuver herself into the vastness of their bathtub. The water was just hot enough as she lowered herself down but when it started to hit burns, her body went rigid and she hissed out in pain, but she knew she had to do it.

After surviving treason, a gunshot wound, vampires, werewolves and witches – Rita would be damned if it was an infection that killed her.

"I don't know where to start," she said through slightly gritted teeth as her body began to grow used to the water. The only saving grace was Leon's proximity to her and the feeling of all the grime and blood being pulled from her skin.

The tub was big, it'd taken a while to fill. He'd had time to shuffle his way around the bathroom gathering the supplies they'd need to get her cleaned up, mainly washcloths. A lot of washcloths. He had a whole stack of them that he balanced on the edge of the tub. He'd turned to find soap when he heard cloth rip, and his eyes widened as she revealed the full extent of her injuries. Unlike him, who had half a dozen scattered bruises from blunt impact, Rita's body was covered with a variation of marks: deep, raw lines crisscrossed her arms; several areas had pairs of dark dots, and angry red surrounding them; bruising that followed patterns he didn't recognize. And that was just her front side.

She made a joke, but he couldn't work up a laugh — the best he managed was a grim smile and a small burst of air. How had she walked out of the facility? They'd leaned on each other, but she'd been worse before she'd had some of Orvar's healing blood. She'd been powered by sheer stubbornness, knowing Rita.

Leon took her hand and helped ease her into the tub when she was ready, and watched her with knitted eyebrows as she acclimated to the water. He could see some of the marks on her shoulder and upper back from where he stood now, looking down at her. The fuckers hadn't left any ground uncovered, had they? An ember of anger briefly ignited in him, but it cooled when he remembered the floor at the facility, how it'd been covered in fallen Enforcers and blood. Those responsible for every mark he saw — the ones who'd circled around Rita and beat her — they'd already been dealt with.

All they could do was clean up and push forward.

"I'll take care of it," he said. He considered staying out of the tub, helping wash her from the outside, but the thought of maneuvering around a barrier to get to her wasn't something he entertained long. Leon pulled his clothes off and carefully lowered himself down into the water, hands clutching the edge of the tub with the same tenacity he'd clung to the railing on the way upstairs. He grunted as the heat made contact with his skin, but he relaxed as it worked its way deeper and began to uncoil all his coiled muscles.

"Here's hoping one of us can get out," he chuckled. "Be embarrassing if Orvar ends up having to fish us outta here." Leon didn't allow himself to sit and luxuriate for long. They were both weak and in enough pain that though he'd joked about it, it was a real possibility that they'd struggle to climb their way back out of the tub without help. Being relaxed and sleepy wouldn't help their cause at all.

He grabbed a washcloth from the stack and reached out for one of her hands. He'd thought that'd be a safe spot to start, somewhere less likely to bear the marks of their time at the facility, but her knuckles were bruised and raw, her fingers sliced in spots. Then, there were her wrists and arms, with dark red lines that told of a rope's touch, of her trying to wrench herself free; they looked similar to what they had the first time they'd escaped the facility, when she'd been tied to a chair and forced to watch recordings of his torture and her dead fiancé's death. When he'd cleaned her injuries then, though, they'd been limited to her wrists, and they hadn't been as deep as the ones she had now.

Leon sighed, dipped the washcloth in water, and brought it up to start wiping the side of her hand.

"Those rope marks—Those're from more than what I saw at the end, aren't they?" he asked quietly without looking up.

When Leon settled down in the tub with her, she let a soft smile find her lips. "We'll manage," she said gently, her words warm despite the darkness that licked against her skin, "We managed on our own once upon a time, didn't we?" It was a truth she fell back on time and time again. She loved their family, but when things got difficult and they were at the mercy of the Enforcers, or even when she was tied up on her own and tortured with no hope – she remembered that she had survived before. She survived losing Chase. They survived the facility, the investor's ball, running all those months. They had survived so much in their time together, they would find a way to get the two of them off the bathtub.

He took her hand and brought a washcloth to her knuckles. They were bruised and the skin broken, but he was gentle as he could be. She couldn't help the wincing, but he didn't jerk her hand away, she just let him work over the skin and wipe the blood from her skin. At first, it took a bit of scrubbing, but soon her skin started to show through the grime until her hands were mostly clean. It was when he moved to her wrists that she had to grit her teeth a bit. She watched him as his lungs decompressed and kept his eyes on her hands.

They're from more than what I saw at the end, aren't they?

Rita glanced up at him and then back at her hands. The burns were bad, deep against her wrists and elbows. Her ankles were bad, too, but at least they'd had the good sense to untie them occasionally. That being said, she didn't give them much reason to let her be free, but she did what she had to do to try and get to her family. Marks or not, she wouldn't regret it. "They are," she breathed out finally, unsure where the strength to talk about it came from. She supposed that Leon had always been her person and he had never looked down on her, or pitied her. He just loved her, through everything – so he deserved to know. She couldn't keep it down, not this time.

"I couldn't – they weren't taking any chances," she admitted, her words fumbling, "they, uh, couldn't risk me fighting back. Especially Lorelei, I would have…" killed her, she thought to herself but didn't speak the words, "—it doesn't matter."

"Long story short, Lorelei and Jenny didn't want me to move and I might have given them reason to believe that I could get away," she said sheepishly, remembering her attempted escape, "but they wanted me secure. A little overkill in my opinion but – It worked. For a while at least. They just needed it to keep me still while they showed me…uh."

She shook her head and took a deep breath, "Video feed. A live feed of all three of you. Becca slept the whole time, but you and Nate, I—I saw everything."

Brought her free hand up from the water to brush her thumb against his cheek, wiping a bit of dirt that had managed to get there from nuzzling in her hair. There wasn't anything to say. She understood what he was feeling, what he felt in that moment of losing her, but she just wanted him to know she was here. She was here, alive, and she wasn't going anywhere. She would have fought against a hundred pounds of restraints to get back to him and let them burn every inch of her. "But yeah, they were tied for two days straight, I didn't think they'd look too great."

She winced as he hit raw skin.

She was right. Once upon a time, when they'd only had one another to rely on (before Nate had been able to fight alongside them, before Becca had been able to heal them, and before Orvar had been weirdly present every time they needed anything), they'd managed. It sure was nice having more people to depend on, to know that they formed a net to catch one another with, but before they'd had their family, they'd been able to rely on each other. They were tethered to each other like mountain climbers; if one fell, the other could pull them back up. In the containment unit, when Lorelei had shown him an illusion of Rita being gunned down as she tried to free him, he hadn't thought he was tethered. He'd plummeted to the ground in a free fall.

Rita explained what'd happened to her, and he listened while he coaxed dirt and blood free from her with gentle swipes of the washcloth, but she mentioned that they'd forced her to watch a video feed and he froze. He looked up at her, his expression stricken, but the shame that rose up in him was so overwhelming that he tore his gaze from her and closed his eyes. She'd seen them. She'd seen everything. She'd seen how he'd mourned her, never quiet in his grief. She'd seen him beg to see her, to hold her one last time. She'd seen him tell Lorelei to kill him, to end his pain.

For two days, she'd been tied to a chair, and she'd watched him crumble.

He finally registered her hand on his face, her thumb on moving on his cheek, and he hazarded a glance at her. Immediately, he felt a snap of the rope between them as it pulled taut, and he stopped in his free fall. There was nothing but understanding and compassion in her eyes. Had she felt like he had when Chase died? Felt like the world had been ripped out from under her, and that there was no point in finding her footing again because the world wasn't worth being in anymore?

"I don't know how you did it," he said, his voice rough. "How you hung on after… after Chase. I'm fucking glad you did, 'cause I wouldn't have you now— we wouldn't be together, but," he shook his head and his lips disappeared into a grim line as he struggled to continue, "I couldn't do it. Not without you."

She winced, and he realized he'd dragged the washcloth over one of her many abrasions. "Sorry," he mumbled, and tried to make himself focus again on the task at hand with little success.

Rita should have felt embarrassed that he was looking at the markings from her struggling against her restraints, but she wore them like a medal of honor. She loved Leon and she would have done anything in that moment to get to him, and by some stroke of luck, she had managed to – well, he had managed to get to her with the help of Becca and Nate. She'd watched him crumble, yes, but she'd also remembered the total relief that washed over her seeing him barreling through that crowd of Enforcers and the feeling of being in his arms again. If he hadn't mourned her so openly, she would have never found the strength in her spine to sever Jenny's head and end the darkness once and for all.

They had been through hell, but they were stronger. Maybe they didn't feel stronger, but they were. Rita could see it in his eyes. Somehow in the mess of it all, they had grown even closer and as much as she hated watching him go through losing her, there was an unspoken understanding between them now. She understood what he felt and he understood the magnitude of the feat it was for Rita to trust someone and fall in love again. It was like a skydive, reckless and without promise of a parachute, but Rita had done it because Leon was worth it. He had shown her time and time again that he was more than worth it. And in that mess, they had tethered to one another and kept each other steady as they went.

"I was lucky," Rita admitted gently, stopping his hand from working with the washcloth so she could tilt his chin up and look at him, "When you found me, I was – I was nothing. I worked and worked and went back to my apartment and couldn't sleep. I wasn't living when you found me, I was just surviving. One step at a time. But then you found me just in time."

"You seem to have quite the knack for it," she smiled gently and let a soft laugh expel from her lungs.

There was an expression on his face she knew all too well. She brought him to her lips and kissed him gently. It was difficult to get leverage for a real, deep kiss in a bathtub when he was at least a head taller than her, but she managed and closed her hand around his. "I know what Lorelei did was…there aren't even words for that pain," she explained gently, "but I have already lost someone I love and while it gave me you and showed me a life I never thought I would have again, I do not ever intend on losing someone like that again. I will always fight to get to you, alright?"

"And if there's anything the last few days and me getting shot by Jackson should show you," she added with loving conviction, "it's that I have no intentions of dying on you, either. I'm too stubborn. When I say I want a future, I don't just want tomorrow, I want a million tomorrows. And I know none of this changes what you saw and endured or the depth of the pain you're feeling, but I just need you to know."

"I love you, Leon," she said gently, "I love you so much it doesn't seem possible sometimes, but I do."

Rita was astoundingly good at kicking ass regardless of supernatural leanings, especially now that she carried one gun loaded with silver and another with sunlight, but he knew that wasn't the only sort of fighting she'd meant. Lorelei had been right about one thing when she'd made an illusion of Rita and staged her death: they'd stop at nothing to get to one another. She'd seen it as their weakness, a predictability that could be used against them, but it was also their strength. Even when Rita hadn't had but a sliver of hope that she'd get out, that she'd be able to get to him, she'd held on, she'd kept struggling. She'd persevered. If Lorelei hadn't so thoroughly convinced him of Rita's death, if their positions had been switched, he would've held on for her, too.

The shadows lifted from his face as she kissed him, and as she went on to mention their future together. Before he'd thought he'd lost her, Leon had thought of their future in vague terms. He knew he wanted her there, and that he wanted to be with her, but it hadn't been until he'd felt the empty place in his heart where she should've been that he'd flashed through all the what-might've-beens: all the paths their lives might've taken. She hadn't actually died, but he still felt like she'd been given back to him, and that he'd been given a second chance to have all the things he'd discovered he wanted to have with her.

"I love you, too," he said, but his words felt insufficient. They always did. "A lot," he added, but no, that still didn't cover it. "A whole lot." He pursed his lips, considering what would do the trick, then grinned at her and leaned in for another kiss. When words didn't feel like enough, a kiss could make up the difference.

After he'd pulled back, he dunked and shook the washcloth in the water to clear it of some of the blood and grime it'd collected, then resumed washing her. He was silent while he worked, but after he finished with her front and encouraged her to turn so he could start on her back, Leon cleared his throat.

"You said you wanted a million tomorrows. I reckon that's long enough that we could do some planning." With his free hand, he gathered her long, dark hair and guided it over her shoulder so he could wash the base of her neck and between her shoulder blades. "What do you think about finding our own place in New Orleans? I could get that job as a seeing eye dog like I talked about, or hell, maybe I could track people. Got a good enough nose for it. Either way, I could help make rent."

Leon had managed to coax her around so he could gingerly move the dark, wet hair from her back and drape it over her shoulder and collarbone. Her back was the most sensitive – angry taser marks, carvings and some of the most intense bruising, but he was plenty gentle. Rita just couldn't help the way her body tensed up when he hit a patches of sensitive skin. She really would need Becca to take a look at it, or learn to stomach some more vampire blood, because the extent of her injuries warranted a long healing period and she just didn't have that time. She had almost lost everything, no part of her wanted to wait to live her life. That and the pain slowly ebbed back until it was throbbing against her skin and muscles. Orvar's blood seemed to have some immediate effects but wasn't a long lasting pain killer unless consumed in larger amounts.

But then Leon mentioned a house and Rita glanced over her shoulder at him, before deciding it hurt too much to keep her shoulder and neck contorted. She turned her gaze back forward but let the smile remain on her lips. "A house, huh?" she hummed, "I'd like that, a lot. I was thinking before – well, before all of this. On the way back from my parents' actually."

"I want to sell the apartment in the city," she admitted finally, "It's entirely paid off, it could sell for a lot. Enough to probably buy a house down here, honestly. That and once we've got everything settled, I – uh, guess I never told you this – but Chase left everything to me and I never touched any of it. So now that I don't have to worry about our purchases being tracked, we're pretty loaded, actually."

"But I think that's a great idea, getting a house. Somewhere we can make some roots of our own. I love Orvar and this house, but it's his. I want something that's ours. And as for tracking people, you could definitely manage to open your own business. I haven't even – I can't imagine going back to PR now, but maybe I could do some work with charities. See if I can't repent for everything I've done."

She shrugged but it immediately elicited a wince from her.

"And I think Orvar would like us staying close," Rita admitted, "Nate and Becca are here, too. It just makes sense to stay here. And I really do love the city, even if it's an awful kind of humid. The houses in the Garden District are beautiful, too."

Rita sucked in another breath of air as her shoulder started throbbing, "Sorry," she managed to breathe out, not wanting him to think he was hurting her. Plenty of people had already hurt her, he was just trying to make things easy on her.

When he'd thought about moving in with Rita, he'd thought about renting an apartment, maybe a condo. Regardless, there'd been shared walls involved. She was talking about a house. Not just that, but it sounded like they'd have enough money that now they were talking mortgages instead of rent, if not outright buying a place. The last time he'd lived in a house had been the house he'd grown up in back in Texas with his grandma.

He supposed their current living arrangement should be included, but between how large the room was and the connecting bathroom, it'd always felt like they were staying in an apartment with a shared kitchen. Orvar had implied the arrangement was temporary when he'd first offered them the room to stay in, but he suspected the vampire would be disappointed when they left. Rita was probably right that he'd prefer they stay within driving distance, if not within the city itself.

He'd fallen in love with the city in their time there, too. There was something magical about the place, especially at night when some of the heat from the day had dissipated, and they could walk firefly lit paths surrounded by trees with wispy moss hanging from their branches. They could've gone anywhere, back to Del Rio, to North Carolina, but New Orleans felt like it was theirs. It was home. It was a place he wanted to be, free from Enforcers and the facility; a place he could envision starting a business, owning a home, and having a life with Rita in. What'd Rita called it? Putting down roots. He wanted his roots to be in New Orleans. He was glad Rita wanted that too.

"it's settled then. New Orleans," he said with a broad smile, but it faded when she made a pained sound, almost a hiss, and breathily apologized. "Hey, it's okay," he said quickly. Rita was blameless for the marks on her body and the pain that she felt as he cleaned them. He was just sorry he wasn't doing a better job at it, that she had to feel any pain at all. If he could arrange that the rest of her life went without experiencing another wound at the hand of Enforcers — at anyone's hand — he would. She hadn't deserved any of what'd happened.

"We're almost done," he added gently, washcloth tracing a path around her shoulder blade and the two lines that joined together to make a… was that a letter? He frowned at it. That was a fucking letter. They'd carved a 'T' into her.

"This 'T' mean anything? It's a 'T', right?" he asked before he'd even had a chance to process that the question had entered his mind. "And these dots? The dots right next to each other? What're those?" He knew the rope burns, the cuts, the bruises—he could imagine what caused all those things, but a letter carved into her like a brand and the dots, almost like the fang marks Orvar had left on her wrist and neck, were baffling.

There didn't seem to be a good answer.

Rita felt her shoulders relax a bit as he coaxed her into breathing, his hand still moving across her skin but gently enough to draw the blood and grime from her skin without irritating the red and angry skin too much. She knew she couldn't control what they did to her, but sometimes it was difficult to be that open, vulnerable and raw after having to live off of her adrenaline for nearly three days. She knew she was safe with Leon, she knew that injuries were finite things and would pass with time, but it was hard to believe that they could just sit in a bathtub innocently washing one another of their demons.

These were never stories she wanted to tell Leon and she had thought it a blessing that he didn't see her in that chair, too. She could find a way to endure watching him lose her, but she knew the barbaric way she was treated. It would have raised up hell in him, at least now he could come to terms with it knowing that the people responsible were dealt with. He had already killed Jackson, Rita didn't want him to have to cope with anymore blood on his hands. "Yeah, it's a 'T,'" Rita replied after a moment, "I betrayed them, so they only saw fitting to brand me as a traitor. I just didn't think they would do it literally."

As they spoke of it, the pain radiated through her muscle and bone, enough that the heat of the water didn't really soothe it. It was definitely her deepest wound and the one that left the largest mark, but she bite her tongue and powered through it. There was no way to be gentle, but Leon was trying, and they needed to be sure that infection didn't set in. Becca was a healer, but she wasn't necessarily a miracle worker…yet. "The dots are burns," she continued to explain, trying to keep herself from shuddering under the tenderness of the marred skin, "They're from tasers. Well, taser. It was the same one. Apparently, the Enforcers got some upgrades while I was away."

Leon took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. Immediately after followed a short burst of air through his nose, and he shook his head while his lips worked back and forth, puckered and flat, as he flipped between showing anger and resignation. Of course they'd considered her a traitor. Not only had she aided him in his escape from the facility, she'd joined him. She helped him remove the tracker they'd jammed his shoulder, had helped him evade the Enforcers, and the one time they'd caught up with them while they'd been on the run, she'd kicked their fucking asses.

Rita had picked her side, but they didn't think it was the right one. The men and women who thought it was alright to tie Rita to a chair for days, to torture her with their fists and tasers and knives, and had finally dragged her out of her cell in front of a crowd of more than two dozen people for a public execution, those assholes thought he was the monster just for being a werewolf, and that Rita had betrayed them for choosing him over them.

"Motherfuckers," he growled. "Their cause is shitty, what'd they expect?" He knew the answer: unquestioning loyalty. But Rita was good. Everything about Rita and everything she did was good. When she'd found out what was going on at the facility, she hadn't been able to stand for it. She never would've left him in his containment unit to be experimented on and tortured, and he suspected she would've pushed him to go without her if it'd meant him getting his freedom. He'd watched her sacrifice for others over and over again unthinkingly because she believed it was the right thing to do. If what they tried to accomplish had been right and good, then Rita would've been loyal to the Enforcers.

But they sucked, so she hadn't been. End of story.

He grumbled some more about what pieces of shit they were, how they had no right to make any judgments against anyone, and how if any of them had been there right now he would've carved a 'C' on their forehead for 'cunt', but he eventually ran out of steam. He didn't have a lot of energy to spare in the first place, and they'd already been handled. They wouldn't touch Rita again, not a single one of them.

Leon finished cleaning RIta, gave himself a quick scrub, then carefully extracted himself from the bath. He dried and wrapped himself in a towel before he reached for Rita and aided her safely out of the tub, then handed off another towel to her.

"They didn't feed you either, did they? Wanna try and dig up some grub before bed?" He eyed the four-poster monstrosity from where they stood. "Maybe food in bed. We've got the best room service in New Orleans. Oldest, too, I bet."

Rita had expected the anger, but there was something amusing about Leon's reaction. Sometimes, she forgot just how entirely he was loyal to her. While Rita hoped what she did was right and tried to be good, he believed in her so ferociously that it was kind of awe-inspiring. He'd never once doubted her, never once questioned her actions, and any time he had ever told her no was for the sake of her own safety and health. through his grumbling and colorful choice of words, Rita actually found the strength to smile as he hummed out a few well places insults. But they weren't needed now. The Enforcers who had put her on display for public execution had been taken care of and Orvar saw to it that they would never be able to hurt her again. Despite being dragged out of bed by the Enforcers, Rita still felt safe. She felt safest with Leon and it allowed her to find some peace among all the shit gathering around in a whirlwind, threatening to knock her down.

He finished up with her and helped her out of the tub, leaving the water a disgusting, murky color mixed with dirt, blood and grime. But they were clean and when she wrapped herself in a towel, she actually felt a sigh decompress in her lungs and her shoulders relax for a moment. She'd been beaten within an inch of her life, tortured and made to sever the head off of a vampire, but all things considered – this wasn't too bad. She dreaded lying down though, with the pain still radiating through her shoulders and she found that Orvar's blood at immediate effects but not really lasting. The pain was coming back and it made it hard for her to stand on her own two feet.

She hummed in agreement, moving slowly with him back towards the bed so she could grab some clothes and change. All she could manage were some shorts and a loose tank top, but like clockwork there was a knock at the door and all it took was two big green doe eyes at Leon for him to go see who it was. Rita crawled up on the bed carefully, wincing as she went and sat cross-legged on the covers. It wasn't until Leon walked in with an immaculate tray of food, some water for them both and another covered, opaque cup with a straw in it. He set it down on the bed and Rita eyed him carefully before looking back at it.

"We were only gone for two days," she laughed, "Orvar must have really missed us."

Food was hard, but water wasn't. Rita drank her glass quickly and let it settle in her stomach, easing all the tension that had gathered there. There was a moment of hunger where it just hurt so much that the idea of eating wasn't appealing, but she knew she had to. She nibbled down a few bites, but her stomach began to revolt against the introduction of any sort of substance, so she stopped after only a little bit, It was enough, though, and she was sure after a few more meals she would be back to her normal eating habits, but it was hard. Her stomach growled uncomfortably and she tried to sit back against the pillows but it hurt her shoulders too much to manage.

When her eyes fell on the opaque cup, Rita picked it up and opened the top of it. Inside was the same thick, syrupy red liquid that Orvar had offered on the plane and Rita felt her stomach immediately lurch. The slimy texture of the blood, the way it coated everything in a thick layer, and she could still taste it on her tongue. "At least he gave me a bendy straw this time," she laughed, though it pained her to do so, "and put it in a cup where I can't see it and psych myself out. For a vampire, he's pretty good at reading people's feelings."

She set it on the nightstand with the rest of the uneaten food and went to move with Leon. She wanted to cuddle with him, to just spend the next three days curled up in this bed away from everyone, but the moment she moved to lie down at all, she shot back up with a searing pain and yelped at how her shoulders reacted to the introduction of her body weight. "Fuck," she huffed out, but it was a pained sound. It took her a minute to recover, but once it was clear the pain wasn't really subsiding, she eyed the cup of blood and huffed. She didn't want to, but she didn't want to hurt anymore, either. More than anything, Leon had endured enough and didn't need to watch her to continuously and needlessly suffer.

Before, she had only managed one real sip, but with the straw Rita managed three or four before her stomach lurched and she quickly reached to put the cup down and cover her mouth. She had to keep it down or it wouldn't do anything for her, but Orvar was wrong in one respect. It wasn't really a taste she was going to acquire. Once she was certain the liquid would stay down, she felt coughs rise up in her, trying to expel it from her body again as if it were unnatural. It was unnatural, but Becca was asleep and Rita would have to wait a good twelve hours before anything else could be tended to, so drinking his blood was a temporary solution. "God," she choked out, "that never gets better."

Leon had just finished pulling on his own clothes, boxers and a t-shirt, when he registered the knock. He'd briefly entertained ignoring it because a conversation with anyone other than Rita wasn't one he wanted to have, but he caught the way she looked at him and sighed his resignation. They'd better make it quick, whoever it was. If they didn't, then he'd— well, he'd probably politely ask them to come back when he wasn't dead on his feet.

He didn't have to speak to anyone, though. He blinked at the tray, the smell of various foods wafting up to him as he processed its sudden appearance. The only person he knew who moved that fast was Orvar. He was also the only one in the house with better hearing than him and Nate, and as he gathered the tray, he considered that the vampire had heard him ask Rita if she wanted food (that seemed like another good reason to move out, to avoid having everything overheard). Whatever the case, it at least meant they didn't need to leave the room and scale the grand staircase in search of something to eat.

While Rita picked at her food, Leon devoured his. His stomach complained at first, but he pushed past the uncomfortable feeling. He'd been without food for as long as Rita, but he'd shifted multiple times between then and now, and had been busted up enough that Becca had used most her magical mojo to patch him up. Even then, she hadn't been able to heal him completely. Just the major stuff, she'd said, like his cracked skull, a multitude of broken ribs, and shattered leg. The list went on, but those were the highlights. Turned out Jenny had a mean left foot.

He was stiff, sore, and bruised still, and while being a werewolf meant in a couple of days he'd feel like himself again, it required fuel. He'd put his plate aside and considered asking Rita if she minded if he finished off hers, but the pained face she made when she tried to lean back made him pause. Then she reached for the cup on her tray and opened it, and the scent of Orvar's blood, metallic with strange musty undertones, like the pages of an old book, a really old book, hit him and made him forget his request entirely. He swallowed thickly and screwed his mouth up in distaste, but snorted at the bendy straw when Rita called his attention to it.

They'd reached a new level of absurdity: a neon green bendy straw dunked in a cup of vampire blood.

He'd thought she might try and drink more, but she put it aside and moved towards him. He didn't say anything about the blood— if she wanted to drink it, she could, but he didn't blame her for not wanting to. If it tasted anything like it smelled, then he could see Orvar's blood dropped to the last resort column, way beneath waiting for Becca to finish healing her, but she cried out and came to a sudden stop. It twisted his guts to see her in pain, to hear her in pain; it served as an unwanted reminder of what'd happened to her, the way they'd gathered around and hurt her, making her scream.

He continued to look on frowningly as she reached for the cup again, and winced in sympathy as she choked more of the stuff down. Once she had, the change was immediate. Leon's eyebrows lifted and his lips parted as more of the swelling went down in her face, her cuts became less red, and her bruises lightened. Magic blood: it was a nasty way to go about healing, but it worked. He shook his head and gently pulled the glass from her hand after she'd finished, then shifted himself off the bed with a grunt.

"I'm just gonna," he began as he walked to the door and opened it, then left the cup and its neon straw outside, "put this somewhere I can't smell it."

After he closed the door, Leon returned to bed, lifted the covers and crawled under them. He continued holding them up until Rita was beneath them, too. He was glad she seemed to move easier, without as many hisses or pinched expressions of pain, when she scooted into his arms. Leon breathed deeply, looked into her big, green eyes, and smiled as he reached between them to stroke the side of her face, guiding pieces of her hair behind her ear as his fingers encountered them.

"What do you say about taking some time off from nearly dying?" he asked. His lips twitched as he tried unsuccessfully to hold back his smile.

Since they'd met, they'd both been shot, shackled and tied down with ropes or silver, tortured both mentally and physically, and had the shit beaten out of them. He wanted a vacation from it all, a staycation— some time where he didn't have to do anything but hold and love RIta.

"At least a week," he added. "I'd ask for a month, but with our track record…" He trailed off and his smile exploded into a toothy grin.

Leon pulled her close and Rita didn't fight it. Not that she did normally, but she let herself sink into his hold relaxed and in marginally less pain than before. Blood was disgusting, but at least Orvar had managed to give Rita a chance at being able to sleep somewhat comfortably. Hell, he gave her enough to heal her entirely, probably, but it wasn't a taste she could acquire and it was like a punch to her gag reflex. Becca would be alright after a bit of sleep and then tomorrow they could figure out how to heal some of the bigger cosmetic issues with her – particularly the nasty carving on her shoulder – but at this point Rita could not care less about the state of her injuries.

She was just bone tired and wanted to spend a few uninterrupted moments with Leon.

His fingers slowly and gently brushed the hair from her eyes and she couldn't help but smile at the attention. There was something about Leon that made it hard for her to wear anything but a smile and every time he brightened into that big, toothy grin, she felt genuine joy ripple through her. "Yeah, I agree," she laughed, "I think we've had enough of almost dying for a lifetime."

It would be nice to just take some time for them. To sell her apartment, buy a house, move permanently to New Orleans – find normal jobs like normal people, though they would never really be normal. After everything they'd gone through, the last thing Rita wanted to do was run into the next big fight. Lorelei was still missing, which meant that somewhere down the line, they would have to face her – but for now, they deserved some time to settle in. Becca could work on her magic, Nate could figure out what it meant to be an adult on his own, and Leon and Rita were free to try to start their future now. It wouldn't be easy, but they had enough of a support group here that she knew they could manage it.

Maybe a beautiful little house in the garden district, with a guest room for Becca and Nate, and halls full of rooms that could be filled as they grew. It was the first time in a long time that Rita could see the future clearly and it didn't scare her.

Not with Leon, nothing scared her with Leon.

"At least a week," she smiled brightly before pressing a kiss to his lips, "but we definitely need some time. No more crazy trips for now. We have the grimoire, Orvar's alright, and we're all back home. All I want to do is be with you for a while. Maybe, you know, go to bed together, wake up together, enough time to have breakfast in bed. God, we need a staycation."

"No angry supernaturals, no overbearing parents, just you, me, and this little family we've built for ourselves."

"Here's hoping everyone else gets the memo," he laughed. Leon knew if Lorelei came back at that very moment, they'd both drag their still battered and bruised asses out of bed to deal with her despite their promise. She wouldn't respect their decision to recuperate. Neither would anyone else who might have reason to wish them harm. They'd taken out Jenny, freed the werewolves, picked up a way to release more of them from their curse with the grimoire, and eradicated all the Enforcers there as if they'd dropped a bug bomb in a nest of cockroaches.

The facility that had caused them so much pain was effectively gone.

He wanted to think that was the end of it, but Jenny had answered to someone. According to Orvar, she'd answered to him for a time while he'd acted as director of the organization, though her position had been different than the one he and Rita knew of, where she'd played at being a mad scientist. Leon suspected that if anything, the Enforcers had built a spiderweb, and with taking down the facility they'd only severed one of its connecting points, leaving the rest of the web remaining. But spiders and webs be damned. For now, they deserved some time to be selfish with one another, to focus on themselves, their lives, and their future.

He scooted closer to Rita, situating himself into a more comfortable position with one arm stuffed under his pillow, and the other looped around her.

"Breakfast in bed, lunch in bed, and dinner too," he said, words jumbling together as exhaustion began to drag him under and he lost his ability to separate them properly. "Whole week. You and me. And food, and baths, and sleep, and fuck everything else."

It wasn't to be, though. Breakfast was delivered after they woke, as was lunch, but when his stomach broached the subject of dinner with several grumbles and growls, instead of a tray of food, they received news that Becca was awake and waited for them in the sitting room. He wanted to gripe about leaving their bedroom ahead of schedule, but in her text message, the young witch said she'd heal Rita when they got there. It was all he needed to clamor out of bed, dress, and help Rita downstairs. He couldn't help that he sounded like an old man grunting his way down the staircase, but his hope that Rita would be free of all pain soon made him swallow his complaints.

When they arrived, Becca was there as promised, along with Orvar and Nate. She sat in Orvar's throne of a chair, a saucer in one hand and a teacup in the other. As Leon eased himself onto the love seat he and Rita usually took, Becca daintily lifted the teacup and sipped from it. When she returned it to the saucer, it was gently enough that even with his supernatural hearing, Leon hardly heard the clink.

"Alright, Princess Becca, we're here," he said through a smile.

She snorted delicately at him, but returned the smile. The witch was much improved since the last he'd seen her, barely on her feet even with Nate's help. Her eyes were bright and the dark circles were gone from beneath them, and she sat straight up in a way that weirdly reminded him of Rita's mother, without her back touching the chair.

"Ready?" Becca asked Rita.

Rita slept heavily for the first time in a good, long while. Despite her aches and pains, she did not budge from bed the following day. She shifted to eat but always found herself curled back into Leon's embrace and tugged back into dreamland. They were silly things, lighthearted and though she could not remember exactly what it was she saw in her dreams, she was content. It was hard not to be. After everything they'd endured, Rita finally had her family back. She was home. Scars and injuries could never take that relief from her. Orvar was alive, Becca and Nate were safe, and Leon was alive beside her, his heart beating a lullaby into her ear as she laid with her head on his chest.

They were alive. For a second time, they cheated death together.

Becca called for them later that evening, before dinner, and it took a bit of strength for Rita to peel herself from bed. With a bit of help from Leon, she managed to slip on a clean pair of sleep shorts and a tank top. She struggled down the staircase with him and the two of them settled onto the loveseat. Rita winced as she sat, feeling the bruises on her back touch the chair and subsequently sat forward a bit in her seat. In a flash, she felt a pillow behind her and looked up to see Orvar standing close by. As much as Rita wanted to tell him not to worry, the pillow certainly helped a lot, so she kept her mouth shut for once.

"I am, just—" Rita exhaled, "don't push yourself too hard, okay? I'm not actively dying, so just do what you can."

Becca nodded and came to settle next to her, her hands glowing as she started to work over Rita's skin. Immediately she could feel relief from the swelling and the bruising. There wasn't much that needed to really be reconstructed, just a lot of bruising, some damage to her once dislocated shoulder and the carving on her opposite shoulder. It elicited a bit of a gasp from Becca when she finally saw it and Rita actually felt a bit of embarrassment rise up in her cheeks as everyone in the room's eyes went to it. "T?" Becca asked.

"Traitor," Nate answered for her and Rita was grateful. There was an odd, uncomfortable silence in the room before Becca brought both hands over the carving and focused. The burning ceased and Rita felt her shoulders relax but Becca seemed to hum in disappointment as she brought her hands away. The skin was back, smooth and not a single trace of what had been sliced through her skin. But Rita could still feel the ache and reached up to hold her shoulder for a moment. "The tissue already started to heal and scar deep down, so I couldn't—"

"It's okay," Rita smiled up at Becca, which she returned, "You've done more than enough, Becca. Thank you."

And it was true. Rita felt an entire weight lifted off of her as the swelling disappeared and bruises subsided. The marks from the taser disappeared too. The only memory was the slight ache in her shoulder, and she would easily take that. She was alive. They were all alive. That was the most important thing.