Written August 6th 2021 8:53 AM

Ailith had almost forgotten how grimy and sore she was until the moment Feyra led her upstairs and started drawing her a bath. She had dragon turtle blood covering almost every inch of her, the sticky substance solidifying her hair and cracking when she flexed her broken hands. Feyra puttered around the bathroom, mumbling to herself as she checked the water temperature and gathered towels – the big, fluffy kind that Ailith preferred. Ailith just stood in the middle of the room, eyes glazed over, as the adrenaline and tough facade fell away, leaving her trembling with exhaustion and pain. She tried to undo the buttons on her shirt, but her hands were trembling too much to get purchase.

Feyra must have heard a hitch in her breath, because suddenly she was at Ailith’s side, eyes wide with concern. “Please…” Ailith whispered, voice hoarse and unsteady. She didn’t like asking for help, she didn’t ever want to appear weak, but this was Feyra. “It- Everything hurts, please-” Ailith broke off as tears started to fall from her eyes, choked off sobs wracking her body. Feyra hummed in response, laying her hand over Ailith’s chest as the other woman curled into herself as if she could shield herself from the pain. A murmured word in an arcane language Ailith’s mind was too exhausted to translate brought much needed relief from the pain in Ailith’s chest, the bones broken by Elijah’s beating setting properly.

Ailith let herself be undressed, eyes unfocused as Feyra moved her limbs for her, peeling the disgusting mess that was her clothes off her and dumping them in a heap on the floor. Only magic was going to get those clean again. Feyra manoeuvered Ailith to the tub and helped her into the hot water. Ailith let out a low groan as she sank in up to her chin, relishing the feeling of the dried blood flaking off her skin. Feyra didn’t join her – instead, she spent the next half hour washing Ailith’s hair, working the strands until there was no trace of blood left. Feyra moved washcloth after washcloth down Ailith’s body, letting Ailith rest boneless against the side of the tub, eyes closed against the onslaught of thoughts running through her mind.

There hadn’t been much time to think immediately after the fight. There was too much to do – confront Jack, debrief Thatcher, make sure everyone was okay. Now, as Feyra continued washing the evidence of the day off her body, Ailith let herself reflect. She had held back with Jack, after learning about his betrayal. Truthfully, two punches to the face wasn’t nearly punishment enough in her opinion. Telling Thatcher had been a business-like affair. Yeah, she had died, but that was part of the job, right? Gasping, choking for air that wasn’t going to come, looking into the eyes of the man whose only mission in the afterlife was to hunt you down and kill you, knowing the love of your life was watching as he snapped your neck- all in a days work. Detachedly, Ailith noted that although she was no longer sobbing, silent tears were still coursing down her face. Feyra wiped them away, her own eyes glassy with unshed tears. Ailith knew she needed to check in with her, that they needed to have a conversation about, well, everything. But she just didn’t have the energy.

Eventually, Ailith’s thoughts stopped circling and utter exhaustion set in. She lost count of how many times Feyra had to drain and refill the tub as the grime from Ailith’s body soiled it again and again. At one point Ailith must have dozed off because Feyra was now carrying a tray full of food into the room, setting it on a stool nearby. Ailith hadn’t even noticed her leave. She didn’t have the strength left to lift her arms to the food, and to be honest she didn’t have much of an appetite anyway. Ailith knew Feyra would make her eat, caretaker that she was, and if she was being honest, getting fed in a warm bath sounded lovely. She closed her eyes again as Feyra got undressed and loaded both sets of clothes into a basket to be dealt with later.

Finally, Ailith felt the water slosh against her as Feyra slid into the bath across from her. She opened her eyes a crack, watching the redhead wash her own hair, the strands turning as dark as her own. Feyra caught her watching and said nothing, just reached out a hand to Ailith and pulled her gently closer. Ailith turned slowly, so as not to spill any water, and let Feyra tug her backwards until her back was flush with Feyra’s front. “Don’t worry, nin mel. I’ve got you.” Feyra’s voice was soft in the silence of the room as her fingers worked into Ailith’s muscles, undoing the knots and leaving Ailith feeling like jelly. Ailith leaned her head against Feyra’s shoulder, a small smile breaking free when the other woman dropped a soft kiss to the top of Ailith’s head. They stayed that way until the water cooled and Feyra helped a grumbling Ailith out of the tub, bundling her in a towel and scrubbing at her hair. Ailith wanted to weep all over again at the gentleness with which Feyra was handling her, like she was something precious and fragile. Feyra was the first person in Ailith’s life to treat her with such… reverence.

Satisfied that Ailith was warm and cozy, Feyra pressed another kiss to her chest, right above her heart. “Im mel cin,” Feyra whispered, her breath warm on Ailith’s skin.

Ailith laughed softly, on the verge of tears once more. “I know,” she answered in kind. And she did know. She knew with her whole heart that she was loved. The feeling was liberating.