[attr="class","illeana"]

[attr="class","illeana b"]

[attr="class","illeana i"]it's an odd sort of thing to feel hopeful yet not. she feels it surge in her throat the moment the cage rattles. and when it's pried open, she has to choke the sensation back down.

no... this isn't a rescue. this is something else.

she expects pain when the body comes closer and recoils at the presence. flattening herself into stone is feeble but maybe she'll look like it a little. she's pale enough, perhaps.

and then... that familiar voice rings out and she's choking out a sob.

"felix...?" it comes broken, crumbling, destroyed. and when she drags her head up, there's a hollowness to once bright red. it doesn't stop her from scrambling, from grabbing for him with both hands. she hisses in pain over her broken wrist but it's nothing compared to holding onto him, to feeling him.

she whimpers, then, as a stray thought rises.

"are you...?" real. are you real?

Felix Gallagher

[attr="class","illeana"]

[attr="class","illeana b"]

[attr="class","illeana i"]she's too exhausted to pick out pieces of a puzzle and sort through until she figures out that look in his eyes. it's left untouched, festering.

and when he leans, she's slumps. his body is surprisingly familiar beneath hers. firm, safe, warm. she shivers. their faces almost brush and maybe if it were another situation, she'd take a leap.

this isn't the time nor the place.

"thank you," comes in a soft, breathy whisper placed somewhere toward his ear and mumbled mostly into his neck. thank you for saving me, for still being here. it means more than you know.

and it's lost beneath time and pressure and the dread making her nauseous. she steadily bleeds both pink mist and small drops of blood, cuts and scrapes soothed into a semi healing process. it does little on her wrist but... bones have always taken her more time to heal.

"i -- yeah," she forces out. and if she can't, she'll figure something out.

when she tries to rise, however, her legs wobble and shake. they threaten to give out and she releases his shirt to brace the wall with one hand. it earns a whimper. wrong choice of hands... fuck. the chains rattle and she looks up at him, helpless.

Felix Gallagher

[attr="class","illeana"]

[attr="class","illeana b"]

[attr="class","illeana i"]she holds onto him like a lifeline: too tight, trembling hands producing white knuckles. it hurts her wrist, sure, but freedom is so close... she can almost taste it.

and holding on a little longer is worth the pain to see the light again. it has to be.

his dragapult spews a black tar sort of substance onto the wall. when it drips, a portal begins to form. and she gasps softly when felix hoists her up, surprise settling into exhaustion soon after. her arms feel like weights when she lifts them. she drags them up to hold at his neck. the grip is looser than it was around the fabric of his shirt.

the rest of her body relaxes into a safety she hasn't felt in weeks. it's nice, warm, comforting, felix.

he steps into the portal. and they emerge on the other side, the walls keeping her prisoner no longer in sight. she sees crates, smells the sea, and tears begin to bubble at waterlines. her head turns into the crook of his neck and gratitude overtakes sense. a soft kiss presses to the skin of his neck before she's openly crying, feebly raising her bad hand to wipe tears away. she really shouldn't use his shirt as a tissue...

"felix," comes quietly. her grip tightens, then, and the hushed whisper of his name quickly breaks into a sob. here, in the confines of a warehouse, held against him, does she finally shatter completely.

Felix Gallagher

[attr="class","illeana"]

[attr="class","illeana b"]

[attr="class","illeana i"]he sets her down as if he's afraid to break her further. jagged, sharp edges of former glory clinking together in a heap against a large container.

and she had always wanted to be diamond, steel, ivory. something unbreakable, something valuable. instead... she's cracked porcelain pieces thrown on a floor.

he cradles her anyway. and if his hands bleed from sharpened pieces, he shows no indication. there's only a soft gentleness, a tenderness she hasn't seen in... god, it feels like ages. time persists, time bleeds, time flows. and with it, this, too, will flow into a distant memory.

at least, she hopes.

fingers dig into the waist and it's not suffocating. it's not imprisonment. no, there's freedom in his fingertips, in the way he holds her. she's no longer a bird kept in a cage of stone and iron. he made sure of that. and for this, she might never be able to repay him.

"felix," she whispers again. it's still hoarse, dry, clinging to her throat. somehow she manages to wiggle a little closer into his warmth and a shiver follows. "i -- thank you." she doesn't know what else to say besides spewing gratitude.

well... there's one thing.

it bleeds into her movements, into the way her hands cling to him with white knuckles and a whimper. don't leave, don't go. fear and desperation often go hand in hand. it's no different here, with the threat of chains still on her mind.

Felix Gallagher

[attr="class","illeana"]

[attr="class","illeana b"]

[attr="class","illeana i"]comfort. it's a need, a desire, even a reward. she clings to it, to him, with white knuckles and trembling limbs. and god, illeana's never been holy but she'd repent for the rest of her life to keep this. everything comes with a price, however, and hers is steep.

he holds her closer and it's sweet, gentle, tender. hands cradling her head, stroking hair. she's lulled into a sense of relief, a sense of peace. and for a little while, it settles her down into slight sniffles. her tears slowly dry and trembling eases into small shivers and then into dust.

and despite the freedom at her fingertips or the affection in his grasp, there's an underlying tone of something. it's subtle as it always is. leaping from shadow to shadow, following close at her heels or from an agonizing distance. the tone she's set since her arrival until now has weaved and coiled, somehow unbroken despite her best efforts. and it's simple, really: the end is seen as it begins.

the downfall of illeana reyes is prophesized. it is woven into fate with cherry red string and good intentions. knowledge becomes power and power becomes the undoing. the fissures in her, from war and loss to capture and powerlessness, grow wider. and in them, fear festers. it grows until it consumes.

and what then? will he still be there in the aftermath?

for now, she sighs softly into his chest and snuggles a little closer, a quiet question rising after a slight silence.

"why?"

Felix Gallagher

[attr="class","illeana"]

[attr="class","illeana b"]

[attr="class","illeana i"]she understands, in a way.

some things are better left unsaid. and some, unfortunately, come out no matter how hard you try to stop it. whatever he's sorry for dies in his throat and with it, the premature fracturing of a mending relationship.

and if he had actually said what he wanted, would it change anything? it's left for another time, another place.

for now, she exists in a small pocket of space held against him. it's comfortable here, cozy and warm in a way she doesn't understand. essence of childhood feelings resurface with a vengeance and bubble beneath her skin. she likes it more than paranoia and fear, at least. besides, it's a harmless crush... how badly could it hurt?

perhaps... extremely.

finally, after the swell of silence grows overwhelming, she whispers to him, "felix?"

a question that needs asking, that needs answering, follows.

"could you stay with me?" not here but home. and maybe, even, long after that.

Felix Gallagher