It was days before I was able to even sit up in bed unaided. The wounds in my back and legs healed relatively quickly, but the scar tissue that had been built up from months of abuse had increased, leading to white-lash marks that covered every inch of exposed skin.
It was my leg that caused the most worry. The damage he had inflicted had torn muscle from bone, shattering bone into fragmented pieces that were almost beyond repair. Even if they were entirely able to save the bone and piece it back together again with rods and plates, I would be faced with months of physical therapy before walking would even be an option.
The medical jargon was overwhelming to me. There were times I simply had to ask them to leave so I could comprehend everything that was being thrown at me. I felt like I was drowning more than once.
Etienne never left my side. Not once.
I was in complete awe of His strength, entirely unable to comprehend His ability to stay in that one place, holding my hand while words of medical caliber were lobbed at me from all sides. He was the one that asked the educated questions, and explained things to me in smaller quantities after the white-coated men and women had left the room.
He held my hand while I recovered from surgeries, helped me through my physical therapy, and listened to me sob in frustration after yet another failed attempt to stand on my own.
He ate while I slept, the nurses said.
I never saw Him sleep.
My own sleep was nightly interrupted. I would wake up screaming until my throat was raw, tears of terror soaking down my cheeks into the pillow. The visions in my head would leave me entirely shaking and unable to speak, unable to explain to Him what it was I had just seen. He would reach out for me, and I would shrink away; that hurt me more than the horrors I saw in my sleep. I didn't want to push Him away. It had been so long, and now even His touch was ruined by the stupidity that I allowed myself to walk into all those months ago.
But He waited. He waited hour by hour, day by week, one moment after another as I pushed Him away while I screamed, and then clung to Him while I slept.
It was a cycle - painful to us both - that He was willing to endure.
He finally took to sleeping in my bed every night, holding me as close as He could, regardless of the wires and tubes that cut in and out of my pale limbs. I say sleeping, but I don't know if His own eyes actually ever closed. His voice glided in and out of my subconscious, as it always had, even in the days when I had thought that His heart was no longer beating and that His body was no longer the same warm presence that had consumed my being.
I woke up to that voice, murmuring into my ear and soaking through into my heart. And I dozed again to that same soft muttering tone, firm but so soft that it was more of a prayer or a chant than anything else.
"It's okay to sleep, Izzy...I've got you, baby, I promise...I'm not going anywhere, not now and not ever again...I love you, Isabeau...it's okay to sleep...I've got you..."
Finally, though, the day came when He left my side. He stood up without a word, untangled Himself from my clinging arms, and stepped almost soundlessly into the hall. I could hear His voice, muted and soft down the hallway, those earnest inflections that I was so familiar with, but could not decipher.
His footfalls came back to me down the tile-lined hall. Not heavy and frightening, like those boots that sent waves of terror down my spine. No, His feet were light, almost silent, no matter what surface they were tredding. It had always been this way. The simple familiarity of this drew a long-forgotten smile to the corners of my mouth.
He was back in my bed in an instant, the light from the window reflecting His red hair into something almost...inhuman. Something almost supernatural. He pulled me to His chest, gently, almost as though He was afraid to break me more than I already was.
His lips were against my ear, and His words and breath settled warm at the base of my spine. He tangled His fingers into my thick, dark hair and caressing down my shoulders with His strong fingers.
"I'm taking you home, Iz."
///
In truth, I had almost forgotten that I had a home. The place where I had been living for the past eight months was certainly not my home, and it had never felt that way.
Looking back, I wondered if my own grief had blinded me to the point where good decisions and bad decisions were harder to tell one from the other. I had just lost the Man I loved, and was wandering blindly until I fell into the arms of another man.
Every day since then, I hated myself for what I had done. I had been grieving for what seemed like an eternity, and this had seemed....had it seemed right, really, or was it just part of me too eager to move on? Too eager to leave the pain behind? I had betrayed Him and His memory, in a way. I had not lingered long enough.
Obviously, I hadn't fully given up, hadn't fully moved on from the idea that He might still be alive, somewhere. Etienne's memory had been the only thing that I had clung to in the darkness of those moments, those nights of torture and brokenness.
The thought of ever seeing Him again was not something I had dared to entertain. I had dreamed it, of course. I had held Him close, smelled His breath, and clutched His body in my dreams where He still breathed and His blood still pumped.
And now, He was here. Red hair and muscled arms and that strong Dominant presence, even when His hands were lowered and His voice was silent. These were the things that I had refused to release, even in the darkness of death.
And He was taking me home.
///
The hospital had attempted to insist that I be taken out in a wheelchair, but Etienne had heard no such thing. He had scooped me up into His arms before the nurses could protest and strode down the hallway with such a passionate stride that He had left all the shouting hospital staff well behind us.
As we stepped outside the door, I turned my head into His chest to keep my eyes from the blinding sun, almost painful to my eyes after seventy-seven days of muted hospital shaded windows. The sun was warm and soothed my skin, but it was so bright that I was almost grateful to reach the shade of the parking garage.
After a few more lengthy strides, we reached a certain vehicle, black and sleek almost perfectly parked. His strong hands reached down and opened the passenger door, very gently setting me down into the seat. He pulled a blanket from the backseat and tucked it over me, covering me tenderly before pressing His lips to my forehead lightly.
"Close your eyes, little one. Rest."
Etienne's words, a low growling purr from His chest, sent familiar waves of lightness from the tips of my toes up all the way through my body. And the name...I shivered, not with chill, but with something else. Something I had not felt in a long time, and something I wasn't sure that I was ready to feel again. But it was something I wanted, something that made me feel safe again.
He smiled at me, and kissed my forehead again before pulling back and closing the door.
After a few moments, He slipped into the driver's seat and turned the car on. He cast His eyes in my direction with a slow smile.
"Your eyes are still open, Iz. Close them. Sleep, little one. I mean it..."
He let His voice trail off, and even though the amused tone, I could hear the familiar notes of authority lingering there. He couldn't help it, I didn't think.
With a final glimpse up into His eyes, I curled as best I could under the blanket and let my body drift off into sleep, the movement of the car and the soft rushing sound of the breeze outside providing a very lulling soundtrack for my rest. I felt His hand reach over and brush against my cheek just before I dozed off.
///
The drive was barely more than two hours, and I slept the entire time. In fact, I did not stir at all until the crunch of gravel under the tires signified a change of driveway. I shifted and opened my eyes with a soft groan of pain as I moved my leg a bit more than I should have. Despite the incredible amount of healing that I had already done, my leg would forever bear reminders of where I had been.
"Are you okay?" His voice was tinged with worry, but His eyes never left the road in front of us.
I nodded. "I just moved the wrong way is all. I'm fine."
He made a noise in His throat, a sound I could not quite understand.
I sighed softly.
"Etienne, I'm fine," I repeated, as though to reassure us both.
I looked from His face to the windshield, eyes fixed on the house that loomed in front of me. To say that the house was huge was an understatement, to say the least. It was spread wide over a massive yard, so green and alive that it seemed to call my name, tucked in a small grove of leafy trees that towered near the eaves of the first section of roof. It was white and beautiful, bearing an air of country charm despite its impressive size.
"Is this...Yours?" Why did my voice sound so tiny, so unsure? Why did I have to be so tiny, so unsure?
My eyes were still fixed on the house, but I could hear the smile in His voice when He spoke.
"It's yours, too, Iz."
I don't think I could have said anything more if I had wanted to in that moment. My eyes were fixed on the house, more of a mansion, that stood before us. Slowly, He pulled the car into one of the three garages, parked, and killed the engine as the door glided shut behind us, leaving us in a dimly lit room.
Before I could move to even undo my own seatbelt, He had gotten out of the car and was at my door. Carefully, He undid my seatbelt and took the blanket off me, carefully folding it before replacing it in the backseat. He was careful, analytical with everything, especially with me. He gathered me up into His arms before I could protest that I was perfect capable of walking from the car to the door, if He would just get me my crutches.
