Azrael – Now
Pavel cowered in Azrael's arms; his face turned from him, eyes scrunched shut so tight that even his eyelashes vanished. Even now, as wept in his arms, as he comforted him. Pavel couldn't bear to look at that face of his. This face was not Azrael's anymore.
It had been ripped off and twisted. That was all he could be sure of from what Pavel had said. He'd been used against him in an unforgivably monstrous way. Etienne Du Rand had figured them out and used it to his sick advantage.
"I'm sorry." Pavel had said they didn't need to apologise to each other anymore, but he couldn't help it. The guilt Azrael felt was incomprehensible. He didn't even really know what he was apologising for; if it was for not being there, by Pavel's side; if it was for being so utterly weak that he'd been stopped by some chains and a door. If it was for what his face had done to him. All he could do was beg forgiveness. All he ever did was need Pavel to forgive him, using his kindness over and over and over.
Selfish.
Useless. Fucking useless.
Blood became tacky and congealed under Azrael's hand, streaks beginning to peel and flake away onto the concrete floor as he rubbed Pavel's back. He peppered shuddering kisses to his limp hair, his lips barely brushing Pavel, terrified that he would scramble away again. To bear the sight of his eyes looking at him with such petrified hatred once more was not something Azrael would be able to survive. He hardly breathed, for fear it would shatter Pavel's thin tether to sanity.
"Are you… do you feel better?" A childish question, one that was too simple to encompass everything that he was sure that Pavel was feeling. Azrael cursed himself, as he always did, for being unable to be a real comfort for him. He was no better than a shallow well-wish from a passing stranger.
Pavel's breath was wet-hot against Azrael's collarbone, the tears in his eyes obvious in his voice as he still refused to look up, refused to look at Azrael's face. "I can't… I don't know." Skin pressed impossibly closer to skin and scales as if he wanted to crawl into Azrael's flesh and hide away.
He would let him. He would peel his skin off his bones and hold it open for Pavel to crawl into. Wrap him up in his skin like a blanket. He'd pull out his guts and hollow out his torso so he could curl up in it safely, an all-encompassing, swaddling embrace. Together, completely, forever. Finally safe. If that's what it would take to guarantee Pavel's security, it was not too hard of a request.
"Just sleep now. Nothing will happen." All Azrael could assure him of was that he would not allow another's hands to touch him. There was no worry that he would fall asleep stupidly, even with Pavel's warmth in his arms – all he had done was pace and worry and rest for several days with no pause now. "No one is here. Just me. Please sleep."
"I can't. He's there every time I close my eyes." Voice hushed against Azrael's skin; lips so close he felt them with each word. Pavel's fingers dug into the flesh of Azrael's hips in a faceless, wordless expression of his terror. Fingernails cut lines into the bare skin there, deepening the indents his fingers always pressed into his hips. "He's still here."
'He'.That face.
My face, you mean? My face that did this to you.
Devoid of any more tears to shed, Azrael didn't cry. He had no right. "I know, I know. Sleep will do you good. I'll be here if you have a nightmare." Lightly, he danced the tips of his talons along the curve of Pavel's spine, a scratching movement in an attempt to soothe him. He leant back into those comforting, safe hands. "Good. Lie down, it'll be alright."
Breathing much steadier now, Pavel was finally caught hold of by sleep. All the tension fled from his muscles at once, rendering him a limp, exhausted tangle of bruises. As his body further slumped backwards, Azrael gingerly lowered him to the floor before tucking his scaled tail to his side, wedging Pavel's supine body between it and his leg.
A momentary break. Azrael studied the sleeping rabbit for a second, relieved at Pavel's peaceful expression until he shifted in his slumber and wrapped his limbs around his tail. While that did mean he couldn't move from that spot for as long as Pavel slept, there was no need to adjust his posture. Having explored every inch of this room that he was able to reach, Azrael had long since realised that there was not a single thing he could do now. Reality had firmly set in.
This was a waiting game.
Du Rand was seeing how long they could hold out.
To what end did he want either of them to snap, Azrael was sure was just for twisted amusement. He didn't entirely understand this new strategy though. Reuniting him with Pavel was not an act of kindness, not from someone like Du Rand. Guessing would get him nowhere, but Azrael wasn't able to help it – there was nothing else for him to do, anyway. It was very likely that Du Rand thought he would break quicker when he saw what had been done to Pavel, that there would be more entertainment at an invigorated desire to escape. To avenge him. All to observe them like rats in a twisted bastardisation of a lab experiment. Then again, Azrael seemed like nothing but a slightly useful afterthought to that man. Regardless, there were too many twisting, hidden possibilities that Azrael couldn't untangle or make sense of. He sighed bitterly.
That bastard was not wrong. As Pavel pressed his face to the scales of Azrael's tail, Azrael did nothing but look, unblinkingly, at the mocking presence of that locked door. He didn't even know if the damn thing was locked in the first place, making it all the more insulting. Du Rand was exaggerating his inadequacy. His complete worthlessness. It was quite shocking that it wasn't just left open, put salt in Azrael's wound, but maybe Du Rand didn't want to drive him quite that mad. He did seem to know that he could turn into a ravenous beast – in the literal and the metaphorical - if pushed one step too far.
However, that didn't quite add up because dropping Pavel at his feet in the state he'd been left in was a direct command. A provocation; this was what Etienne Du Rand wanted to make Azrael berserk. Madder than mad, past the point of sane thought. Unable to do anything but the worst possible thing. Swirling thoughts muddled Azrael's mind, his vision blurring and dimming as he lost his grip on whatever was keeping him together.
Azrael was desperately close to the edge of a sheer, rocky cliff face, no matter how he pretended he wasn't – one wrong step and it would all go wrong. Each breath he sucked through his fanged maw shook, his chest was scorching with bubbling fury and, despite Pavel's soft embrace, the end of Azrael's tail flicked uncontrollably. As his emotions swirled with abandon, he felt trapped in his skin. It was too tight, too loose, itchy, and every inch of it just felt so perverse, like he'd been put in someone else's body.
So completely alien. So fucking wrong.
He pressed his face into his hands, rubbing harshly at his eyes and cheeks as if he could push back that strange feeling. The strange feeling that was awfully familiar. Primordial. Instinctual. Every fibre of his being screamed to be let free, to change, to rage, but he couldn't let himself do that. The last time his body had had its way, Azrael had only himself to worry about in that uncontrolled state.
The last time he had shed his 'human' skin, it didn't matter who he hurt as long as he got out but now Azrael couldn't risk that blackout, that uncontrollable urge to tear and destroy. If he woke up deep in the woods alone again, blood thick in his throat, flesh in his belly, Azrael would know that he had done something he could never live with. Even if no memory of the actions stayed in his head, he would know what he had done.
He had to remain in control.
He had to keep Pavel safe.
-
Azrael didn't know how much time passed before Pavel woke up. No new meals had been brought down by those masked guards and hunger hadn't begun to gnaw at his stomach so he knew it couldn't have been more than half a day. It had likely been the fourth night he had survived down there; he could surmise that much. He had to assume he hadn't been unconscious for very long when first taken; he could have lost several more days, but he didn't know. Pavel had been in such a state that he didn't know how long he'd been in the clutches of Du Rand so his account of the torture and abuse hadn't helped much.
As Pavel grumbled himself awake, face scrunching against the lights that never turned off, Azrael stroked his tangled hair back and touched his cheek to remind him who he was with. "Feeling better, Pavel?"
He froze under Azrael's hand, eyes shooting open as his breath caught in his throat. As soon as his body caught up with his gaze, Pavel thrashed away, pushing at Azrael's tail, kicking at his body defensively. "Fuck off, don't touch me!" Wide eyes never strayed from him as Pavel scrambled backwards on his hands, hissing venom. "Get away from me, you fucking monster."
Azrael knew why he was reacting like that.
Though the words stung, he knew Pavel didn't mean them towards him; they were for the impostor pretending to be him, whoever the hell it was. He closed his eyes and pressed his hands to his thighs, allowing himself to take a steadying breath. Keeping his breathing calm, Azrael choked back the pain in his voice. "It's alright. It's the real me."
That terror wavered at his words. He could see the understanding clearing Pavel's vision as his arms gave out and he collapsed bodily to the ground. "I know." Nary above a whisper but Azrael heard him, his acceptance of reality, and he let himself breathe. "I'm sorry."
Crinkling his brows, Azrael shuffled across the floor slowly, closing the distance between them. Azrael had plenty to apologise for, breaking Pavel's request to not, but Pavel had no reason to beg forgiveness from someone like him. "Aren't you the one that said no more apologies between us? Don't apologise." Tentatively, he stretched his hand out and rested it on Pavel's half-bent leg, just below his knee. An uneasy smile softened Azrael's anxious gaze at the fact he didn't flinch, not even slightly. "Did you sleep well?"
All Pavel did, instead of replying, was fill the basement with deep, grounding pants. Azrael rubbed his clawed thumb across his kneecap and waited for the man to be ready to speak. Unconsciously, he hummed a tune, though he didn't know its origin, he thought it could be a comfort. After a few moments, though, he did. It was out of tune and none of the notes worked with his voice so it had been distorted but he realised he'd unconsciously sung the song that had played at his wedding. Startled, and suddenly sorrowful, Azrael stopped but, fortunately, Pavel's breathing had already slowed down and he finally moved again.
Sitting back up, he flashed Azrael a half-hearted, tired smile. "I slept quite well. It's the first time in days I wasn't afraid someone was going to hurt me." Azrael was glad Pavel was honest but everything he said about what had happened to him made his heart ache. Those honey eyes of his fixed Azrael with a heartfelt look. "You're not warm at all, but you're so comfortable to lay next to."
Despite the circumstances, Azrael felt the need to avert his eyes, a dusting of red high on his cheekbones at those words. Pavel's gaze was intense, Azrael could feel it on his skin even when he wasn't looking back. Letting out an awkward cough, he crossed his arms across his chest. "That's good."
Quiet fell.
Groaning pipes filled that gap between them once more, singing their solemn songs. A rush of water echoed through one of them as Azrael finally felt brave enough to look back at Pavel. He was no longer staring at him, his eyes tight shut. No matter how healed he was on the outside, his exhaustion, the emotional turmoil of the last few days – for god's sake, the emotional turmoil he's experienced his entire life – was still etched heavily on the deep black crescents under his eyes. The noticeably sallower dip of his cheeks hinted at the fact he hadn't eaten since he'd been at their home. That disregarded the painting of bruises on his skin but they would have to heal on their own. Azrael didn't even want to think about the unseen injuries that Pavel was nursing, unwilling to let them be tended to. He understood why Pavel wouldn't tell or show him them. All he could do was hope that whatever cruel thing was playing with their fate didn't allow Pavel to become sick.
Azrael would do what he could for Pavel's mental well-being. However small and pathetic his attempts were.
"Pavel, do you… do you know what that man is planning?" Azrael didn't dare say his name. He didn't want to dirty Pavel's ears with that name. He didn't want to dirt his own tongue with that name. "Anything at all."
He immediately shook his head. "No."
"Nothing?" Azrael wasn't really that surprised.
A sigh and Pavel opened his eyes. "He's not stupid. That… that man won't tell either of us his plans." He was frustrated and crushed all at once. The weight of everything was immeasurable, the way his shoulder slumped made it seem like the entirety of the world rested on his back. "I only know that he… wants to take me back – he doesn't intend for me to leave. They never said any about what they were going to do to you."
Once again, Azrael was unsurprised by this. Pavel would not have been kidnapped arbitrarily, just to be killed so soon after – that didn't seem to be Du Rand's style. He also knew he was just collateral in all of this, so Azrael would likely be kept for a very short time if his presence didn't prove to be useful.
Azrael could continually guess that Du Rand would enjoy seeing either one of them break but the real meaning behind the act of dropping them both off in this room was to show them that he had all the power. Neither of them had any choice or ability to escape when it came to this situation. They just had to wait and wait and wait and then obey when they had to.
"Come here?" Azrael was exhausted. Not in the sense that he needed to sleep but drained down to his bones. He was sick and tired of all of this. All he needed was for Pavel to be all right before Azrael let himself die in his stead if that's what it came to.
Pavel's ear twitched, sticking up in curiosity, but he quickly crawled back over to Azrael, not bothering to stand up. "What is it, Azrael?" He stopped just short of where Azrael's legs were crossed in front of him, watching expectantly.
Stretching out his arms, Azrael asked, "Could I have a hug, please?"
With a subdued smile, his eyes watery but warm, Pavel tumbled forward into his arms from his kneeling position. His head hit Azrael's shoulder with a light grunt but Pavel didn't seem to mind all that much as he settled into his arms. Azrael shifted his seating position and uncrossed his legs so Pavel could sit between them, the gap between them disappearing until they could only be seen as one body.
Nestling his head into Pavel's hair, feeling his lips against his shoulder, Azrael breathed out and they relaxed into each other. All of his bare flesh to all of Pavel's, leaving not even a hair's breadth of space. It felt like the final piece of a jigsaw sliding into place every time Pavel wrapped his arms around Azrael. With a deep inhale and, despite the days of grime, the grease, and the blood that coated the both of them in a pungent smell, Azrael found that underlying scent that was uniquely Pavel's.
"It'll be ok."
Azrael didn't know if he believed his own words.