I was utterly exhausted, my eyelids heavy with weariness. All I craved was the sweet embrace of sleep, but I feared succumbing to hibernation. Despite my fatigue, I had to fight to stay awake. Desperate, I reached for our mating bond with Adam, pouring my emotions, weakness, and sickness into it. His concern reverberated through our connection, loud and clear.
Then, a voice echoed in my mind: Bran's voice. "Little girl, where are you? Tell us. You are so weak that Adam can't reach you. Colin is here, ready to help."
Weary to my core, I replied, "I have sepsis, peritonitis. Damon Salvatore trapped me in his hellish torture for over six weeks. Now I'm in the Idaho house, unsure of how much longer I can hold on before succumbing to hibernation or worse. My body is riddled with deep gashes and wounds, my mind is in disarray. The pain is unbearable, and exhaustion weighs heavily upon me. He kept me captive for 46 days, playing the role of a twisted scientist."
To my surprise, Bran's voice softened, genuine concern seeping through. "Young lady, you have six hours left. We are on our way. This is Marrok's command. You will stay awake for six hours, and I will check in with you periodically. But for now, Adam will send you a surge of strength through the bond. I'm sorry we couldn't find you sooner. We tried, we really did."
I replied, my thoughts weary but forgiving. "I don't blame you. Damon had meticulously planned this, leaving no room for you to find us. I'm just so tired. He initially gave me something to counteract hibernation, but I don't know if it's still in effect."
Suddenly, I felt a surge of heat, a surge of power coursing through our bond. Desperately, I grasped onto it with every ounce of strength I had left. Time slipped away from me as I focused solely on the power, drawing it into myself.
Bran's voice broke through every half hour, filled with growing concern as I struggled to absorb the power consistently. It was ironic how the very thing that sustained me was draining my already dwindling strength. Deep down, I knew I was in a truly dire state.
Eventually, I heard the creak of the door opening, and Colin entered the room, his footsteps echoing softly on the wooden floor. He approached me with a sense of urgency, his presence heavy with an unspoken intensity. Carefully, he unraveled the moldy, dirt-stained blanket that Damon had used to wrap my battered body. The musty odor filled the air, mingling with the scent of dampness.
Silently, Colin glanced at Adam, who quietly retreated to another room. Moments later, Adam reappeared, carrying fresh, crisp sheets, and handed them to Colin. With a delicate yet swift motion, Colin spread the clean sheets around me, enveloping me in their comforting embrace. The fabric soon bore witness to the slow seepage of blood, a stark reminder of the wounds that continued to weep.
As Colin attended to me, his presence transformed. The faint scent of clover wafted from him, intermingling with the sterile atmosphere. His touch, gentle yet purposeful, traced over my body with the utmost care. He re-wrapped me in the pristine sheets, offering a small solace amidst the pain.
In a hushed tone, he explained, "Now, I will administer drops into your mouth. They are herbal remedies, beneficial for your well-being. Do not swallow, let them be absorbed. Understand?"
I obediently opened my mouth, feeling his brush apply four distinct substances, the coolness of the liquids spreading across my lips and tongue.
Rising to his feet, he instructed, "Rest for a moment. Adam, take Mimi to the medbay. I will join you shortly."
Colin teetered on the edge of frustration, his emotions palpable. Sensing this, Bran intervened, his voice a steady balm for Colin's agitation. Though Colin was not under the influence of marrok, the power of marrok emanated from Bran, soothing Colin's fiery temperament and inner turmoil. He had heard tales of Colin's formidable reputation, aware of the ferocity that lay within him. A formidable fighter, even a killer, much like Samuel. Sometimes, being a healer is not all one desires, especially when healing is just the antithesis of one's true nature.
Approaching me, Adam gently lifted my fragile form, cradling me with utmost care. He carried me towards the medbay, the soft glow of the lights already illuminating the space. As he gingerly laid me on the plush bed, not a word escaped his lips. The tension in his demeanor hinted at his own fraying nerves, mirroring the turmoil within me.
Colin took Bran aside and said, "Mimi is in a very weak condition. Her straps are damaged and badly. Now I gave her a little bit of strap help, but if I don't get the help properly, she could lose all her straps and then, I don't know what will happen to her."
Bran frowned, not knowing what the hell straps Colin was talking about. Colin looked at Bran and, for a moment, said, " Oh, the straps, well, straps are energy; straps bind the soul to the body. A human has 100 straps. Supernaturals like you have 650 pcs. Mimi probably had something between 200 and 300, but at the moment, 33 straps. Now, if you or a human were to lose all your trinkets, you would die. But Mimi. I don't know. It could be that her spirit, her soul would be loose in Lord knows where before her body would be in a condition to hold up to the straps. Witches always make an energy web just for the sake of the straps. If a witch were to lose her straps, the energy web would grab the soul and send another one to the witch's head. Now you have no energy web, and I don't know if a mating bond will help anything, but if Mimi already died once, then I wouldn't trust that either. So it's a tight, tight fight. Now I'd love to know what on earth Salvatore did this for."
Colin's voice was dangerously soft, calculating, as if he'd already imagined in his head what he'd do to Damon.
Bran's voice, calm yet laced with worry, floated softly through the air, ensuring Mimi and Adam couldn't overhear. The room was filled with a hushed tension as he spoke. "Now go and do whatever you can to keep Mimi on her straps. I'm ready to help, too."
The words hung in the air, heavy with urgency. The sound of his voice was barely a whisper, barely audible over the distant hum of medical equipment.
"Now is not the time for revenge or questions; now is the time to help and heal," Bran continued, his words barely reaching Colin's ears.
The scent of antiseptic mingled with anxiety, creating an unsettling atmosphere in the medbay. Bran stressed the importance of keeping Adam in the dark, fearing his impulsive nature would lead him to confront Salvatore recklessly.
Colin nodded silently, his footsteps muffled by the sterile floor as he made his way into the medbay. Adam had already taken charge, carefully tucking Mimi under the warmth of an electric blanket and skillfully inserting a cannula. The room buzzed with the quiet intensity of their actions.
Magnum's call interrupted the stillness, Bran receiving the news that Salvatore had been apprehended and was en route to Dresden. Bran acknowledged the information with a nod, his mind already racing with thoughts. Exiting the house, he swiftly reached his car and started driving. The engine's low rumble filled the cabin, blending with the sound of his thoughts.
As he drove, Bran's mind wandered to his encounter with Salvatore. He pondered whether he should disclose Damien's existence to Damon, weighing the potential consequences. The scent of leather and the faint hint of exhaust filled the car, mingling with his contemplation. But Damien had the right to exist, too. He had promised to help find a body for him and someone to transfer him to his new body. So far, he hadn't found a way. He just needed to make sure to Damien that this was not allowed, not to this extent. It was time for Damien to take a nap once again.
At the house, Colin sighed, watching as Bran departed without sharing his knowledge of Damon. Frustration welled within him, hoping that Bran would see reason and stop protecting those who were truly evil, despite their age. Colin had witnessed the devastation left behind by Asil, an ancient wolf spared by Bran.
He silently prayed that Damon, another ancient being, didn't harbor the same darkness. Wearily, Colin stepped into the medbay, the sterile scent becoming more potent as he entered. He prepared himself mentally, feeling his leprechaun companion stirring within, eager to face the immense challenge of saving Mimi's fragile life.
Colin approached me, his gentle voice filled with concern. "You've endured so much," he said. "But now, it's time to find some peace. Don't worry, I'll take care of you."
I could hear the faint sound of footsteps approaching. I saw Adam coming near me, his presence calming me further. I was safe.
"Samuel is on his way," Colin assured me. "And Damon is headed towards Dresden. He'll be alright too."
I let out a weary sigh, my heart heavy with the thought of facing Damon. I mustered the courage to express my hesitations.
"I don't think I can face Damon," I confessed. "You know what he's capable of. I had hoped that his darker side would remain separate, like Jekyll and Hyde. But in the end, he held me close, his scent infused with the sweetness of passionfruit, and his embrace allowed me to hear the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. He reveled in the power he had over me, even in this state."
Colin looked at me, his gaze filled with understanding. His emerald green eyes resembled four-leaf clovers, shimmering with a hint of mischief. And then, with his soft voice carrying a strong Irish accent, I realized he was Colin's leprechaun.
"Don't fret, my child," he reassured me. "Everything will be alright. Now it's time for you to rest."
Gently, he prepared a syringe and skillfully inserted the needle into my elbow. As he slowly pressed the plunger, a calm smile graced his lips. Gradually, I descended into a deep slumber; the pain fading into the distant horizon.
Colin worked while Mimi was asleep. He very quickly dripped six different medications into Mimi and watched that they came as fast as Mimi could tolerate them. Bran had gone off somewhere. Colin had told Adam to eat, which gave Colin some peace of work for the time being.
Colin watched all the time, adjusting the drip rates and strengths of the drugs. He always added small amounts as much as he could. He did the strapping work. He had got Mimi's straps to last now 20. As soon as he had put Mimi to sleep, the straps had dropped. But they were now firmly at 20.
Colin knew this would take time and patience from him and everyone else. He hoped Damon would see this. Feel this. Just because Damon's switch had supposedly been off was no excuse. And next time, if Mimi needed an adrenaline boost, some other way, why the hell hadn't anyone put an adrenaline implant in her?
He wanted very badly to tell Damon about Mimi's straps. Because he knew Mimi had already died once and gone into hibernation a second time. Colin knew that Mimi's body was too weak to hibernate. It's been drained of too much strap energy. In fact, Mimi has full straps when she's hibernating. She's just in economy mode. But now. It was starting to be a bit of the same thing with the damage caused by the incubus. He does have to congratulate Damon. Damn, well done. To his own loved one. Oh, yeah.
Ever since Damon had woken up back at the Dresden house and found Bran was there, he knew he'd gone too far. He remembered most of how he'd enjoyed watching Mimi weaken, how he'd watched the results on the machine, what the machines were doing.
But Damien didn't give him any recollection of the dictations, the drops, or any information about his project. Bran had been furious with Damien and had used a considerable amount of marrok power to weaken him. So Dresden's potion had pushed Damien into a deep sleep.
Damon didn't want to go to medbay. He remembered everything. He'd imagined he'd be strong enough to get himself back under control once the fucking drug had disappeared from Mimi, but no, it had been all too much fun for some dark part of him.
Something that liked to hurt. To stalk, to ambush. His rage. What lived at the core of him, what he fought against so often, and yet now and then, it would surface and do these terrible things to Mimi. Mimi will never trust him again. He doesn't trust himself anymore. He remembered everything, how he'd picked her up in his arms and let her listen to his heartbeat and then the pleasure. It was so fucking wrong.
Bran said to Damon. " You go and fix that girl because I know you can do it. You want to, and you should get to do it. Now go on and put the fucking teeth, even on Mimi's neck, for six months if you have to."
Damon sighed. Bran was right. He had a deep, burning desire to fix Mimi completely. To fix everything that he broke. He could easily help with the physical damage, but the psychological. The disgust had gone through Mimi when he brushed the hair from her forehead. How would he ever have any contact with Mimi again?
Damon went to medbay, and Colin was there. So was Mimi. Colin sat next to Mimi in a chair, watching to see how she was—watching her like a hawk. Apparently, Mimi wasn't feeling very well.
"Colin, let me come and see what I can do. It's the least I can do. I know Mimi's in a bad way. Let me at least fucking try!"
Colin stood up and looked at Damon for a while. Then he walked to the other end of the medbay and said, " Do what you can; that's what I've done, and it's been very little. How on earth did you get Mimi in that condition? Now I've been watching this girl for four days, trying to get even a little something, but she is so bloody finished."
Damon swallowed. He remembered the taste of Mimi's blood, the sepsis. He remembered finding a distinctly moldy blanket he'd wrapped around Mimi's torn skin. Mimi would still have some mold poison in her body.
Damon himself didn't know where the equipment had even come from or how he knew how to use it. It was like he had no control over himself at all. But that's often the case when the switch isn't in place. He didn't remember everything.
He knew that for 46 days; he had tortured Mimi, but he didn't even remember anything about the heat. Bran and Adam had told him about that, too. But the blackouts had been bothering him for a long time, and it had gotten no better.
Damon approached Mimi with cautious steps, the sight of her motionless body sending a shiver down his spine. She lay there, immersed in a profound slumber or perhaps a deep coma. As he reached out to touch her, Damon was surprised by how faintly he could feel her presence. Mimi's entire form was enveloped in thick bandages, concealing her injuries. Her lips, pale as freshly fallen snow, barely moved as she took each breath, her heartbeat barely audible to Damon's ears.
A wave of desperation washed over Damon as he realized that time was running out for Mimi. Her strength had abandoned her, leaving her frail and vulnerable. Stripping himself of his garments, Damon laid himself down on the edge of the bed. Carefully, he shifted Mimi onto her side, positioning himself beside her.
With every ounce of determination, Damon willed a strand of energy to emanate from his heart, extending it towards Mimi's lifeless form. Slowly, the connection was established, as though a lifeline had been forged between their souls. Then, without hesitation, Damon sank his teeth into Mimi's delicate neck, allowing their bond to deepen. He selflessly gave his own life force upon her, offering his strength and healing energy, desperately hoping to intervene in time.
Deep remorse filled Damon's heart as he understood the gravity of the situation. He knew he had to exhaust every effort to restore Mimi's well-being swiftly. Instead of immediately administering the prescribed dental solution, he took it upon himself to draw out and absorb all the harmful bacteria. A unique substance, released into Mimi's bloodstream, acted as a magnet, luring the bacteria towards Damon, who willingly absorbed them all.
Gradually, Mimi's wounds healed, as if touched by the ethereal flow of Damon's energy. The resilient bacteria, potent and easily contagious, slowly but surely affected Damon, although he concealed any signs of illness, even while battling a cold. Unwavering, he remained steady, his body betraying no tremors or indications of his deteriorating health.
As the bacteria migrated from Mimi to Damon, her condition improved. Damon diligently removed the dressings from her wounds, even as his own health faltered with each passing moment. For an entire week, he poured his energy into Mimi, refusing to relent until her recovery was assured.
When Colin arrived to witness the astounding progress, his usually composed demeanor shattered, and he unleashed a torrent of expletives, expertly stringing them together. Samuel, caught up in the same emotions, joined in the profanity-laden tirade. Damon, barely clinging to life, his weakened state clear, knew that a fierce battle awaited him.
With great care, Damon was finally disconnected from Mimi, and the medical team begun their treatment. Mimi, now stable, was transferred to an upstairs bedroom where she could recuperate and gradually awaken. Damon, hooked on various antibiotics, suffered the consequences of the evolved bacteria within Mimi's body. An oxygen mask was placed over his face, providing him with the support to endure.
The doctors, their frustration palpable, muttered curses and swore under their breath as they fought to stabilize Damon, even if only marginally.