Death was cold, the type of cold that didn't seem to have an end to it, that seeped down deep inside her and made her joints ache, and all there was was darkness. It was fitting really, that a life of endless struggles, of facing impossible odds and meeting impossible people would all come to this, something that was quiet, that was cold and empty.
"She'll be awake soon."
That voice brought with it a light, a brilliant ray that seemed to flicker like sunlight on a rippling lake, like starlight, and then she felt that warmth around her hand, felt something squeeze tighter and tighter until it was almost too much and it almost hurt.
"I want Cassie gone, Gabriel."
Her skin was on fire, that hot shiver deep down in her stomach then instead of the cold, and she heard a shuffle, those bells in his dreads jingle and then she heard a whisper, "I'm sorry..."
"We'll deal with all that when we get back," he said, his voice a little muffled. "Go wash up. I don't want her seeing you like this."
"I'm not leaving her!"
She heard a sigh, a soft, quiet sigh, and then she heard a hiss.
"Well, she's stable now so it looks like they'll both make it." She knew that she wasn't dead then, her stomach was burning, her heart racing, her mouth so dry. Everything was his fault, everything, he'd broken Willow and done this to her. "What is it, Gabriel? I am sorry, you know?"
"Sorry?" his voice was quiet, quieter than she had ever heard it before and Phoenix didn't need to open her eyes to know that he was that man who'd bruised her wrists only days before, and then she heard a shuffle and that hand jerked away from hers so suddenly. "Belfire," the Master warned, and that hand returned. "You think an apology is enough, Astor?"
"She almost died," Belfire said, a sharpness, an edge to his voice.
"She almost died," Master Gabriel said.
"I know, Gabriel, I said I was sorry, what more do you want? You can have Willow if you want."
"Willow? What could I do with her, Astor? You've ruined her."
Phoenix saw Willow then, saw how broken, how feral and hazy her eyes had been before she'd sliced Phoenix's throat and tried to save her, and then she heard the sharp beep of a machine.
"Get out," her Master said.
"This is my-!" Master Astor started.
"Get out," Master Gabriel cut in, and there was a moment, a moment that was filled with the sound of the beeping, filled with a heaviness that she could feel but couldn't see, and then there was another hiss. "He's gone, Phe," Master Gabriel said, and then that beeping stopped.
She knew that they were there, that Belfire was there holding her hand and so was he, and this time he wasn't angry that someone had hurt Belfire or she had hit him, he was angry because she'd almost died. Phoenix just had to open her eyes to see them, but when she did, that sun-kissed skin was only pale and gaunt, his face so tight and his eyes so dark.
"Phe…" Belfire whispered, and she nodded, not trusting her voice, not trusting herself to not cry, but then she saw it, how the dark material of his shirt had hidden it from her to begin with, how he was caked in blood.
Her fingers raced for her throat, tracing it, feeling her heart pounding through her skin, and she heard it again, that terrible, shrill beep of machinery, and the Master snapped, "Belfire!"
She couldn't look as that hand pulled away and he ran to the sink to wash himself, and then she felt that finger trail her cheek, lifting her chin so softly, so gently. When she looked at him then, he was only himself, not cold and dark, his face so soft, only the furious flickering of his Implants showing her what was going on on the inside.
"Just a few more minutes and we'll get you home," he said, as he brushed her hair back from her face, his fingers so light it was almost like he was afraid to touch her
"Do you think he did it on purpose?" Belfire asked.
"Does it matter?" the Master said, but no one answered him, and then Belfire held her hand again, his shaking, and Phoenix watched that sharpness, that stiffness spring into the Master's face. "It's time to go," he said.
"You said a few minutes!" Belfire hissed.
"She's not the reason we're leaving."
Belfire shook even quicker, so quick it was like a hum, and she didn't know how much more of this he could take.
"Let's go," she whispered, but it took him a moment to gather himself, a moment for those shoulders to drop just a little, and then he nodded, his arms slipping underneath her and lifting her.
Life was warm, so warm she forgot what it was like to be cold, so warm she felt like she'd never be cold again, so she closed her eyes, leaning into that chest, feeling his skin against hers and she knew she was going home. That warmth grew, suddenly it was all around her and everything smelt like summer and her skin was on fire.
"You alright, Phe?" he asked, his fingers trailing, brushing the damp hair from her forehead, cool and soft, nothing like the arm that was heavy around her chest, but she knew that smell was his. He sat beside her, pulling the covers down to let in the cold, night air and saving her from Belfire's arm. "Do you need anything?"
To look at him then, to see that pain in his eyes, she almost found herself believing that he cared and she almost found herself wanting to, but she couldn't, so she shook her head, shifting to sit up straight and wincing when he went to put a pillow behind her. He looked away then, that light in his eyes growing dimmer, his forehead lining in a crease as he sat by her knee, and it was a long while before he spoke and when he did his voice was strained and tight, almost like he couldn't quite get it out.
"There won't be a scar," he said, and then he cleared his throat. "You'll be tired for a few days from the blood loss, but you'll be fine." She watched him closely, weighing his words, weighing him, but nothing had changed. She was here for a job and he was only angry that his property had been damaged. He cleared his throat, his eyes falling to stare at his lap, his fingers rubbing his palms. "Willow will arrive in the morning. I don't know if she'll recover, but Maya will try her best... I got her for you, from Astor."
"So you've gone from no Woodlanders to three," she said, and she watched him wince, watched him shrink away from the sharpness in her voice, from her, and some part of her wanted to enjoy it, some part of her just wanted to hurt him like he'd hurt her, but it didn't help, that pain in her chest still grew and she wasn't sure that it would ever stop.
He sat there for a long while, not saying anything, barely moving, but then he nodded, turning to look at her and his Implants stopped flickering and went dark.
"I'm sorry," he said, and she didn't know what to say, her mouth so dry, her eyes fixed on those Implants. "I'm sorry. It's my fault you got hurt, I should've seen this coming. It won't happen again, Phoenix, I promise you. You're my responsibility."
She felt something give in her chest, something that went far deeper than just her heart. She knew that look, she knew that light in his eyes and what it meant, and she knew the weight of it. She carried that same responsibility, that same weight for Iris, but he carried it for her, so she closed her eyes, a part of her wanting to gasp, a part of her just wanting to shake her head, and then she felt that hand around hers, so soft and warm, and she cleared her throat.
"You saved me, didn't you?" she asked, and he stared at her, those dark eyes wide for a moment before he looked away and nodded towards the bed.
"Belfire got to you first."
"That's not what I asked."
"I-," he started. "He kept you alive until I got there."
Belfire stirred, his arm snaking around her waist as he rested his head in her lap, and Master Gabriel sighed, brushing a dread back from Belfire's face and trailing his finger across his cheek. She wanted to push him away, her insides burning, her heart racing, but then she looked at him, looked at how pale he was, how dark those deep circles under his eyes were, and she knew that look. He smiled at her then, those Implants flickering back to life as he laid down and rested his head on Belfire's thigh.
"He's going to be difficult for a while," he said. "He hasn't lost people like you have. He doesn't understand how quickly it can happen."
"You should sleep," she said instead of answering him, and that smile vanished, the light in his eyes turning cold and dark, and she waited for him to tell her that they weren't equals, but he reached hand out, smoothing her fingers between his own and tracing her palm.
"I will when I'm finished," he said.