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Ethan stumbled for the second time in as many steps, barely noticing as Grace grabbed his arm to keep him from falling.
He would have welcomed the pain from the impact. At least it might have reached him through the all-consuming numbness he was currently drowning under.
“Careful,” Grace admonished quietly beside him as she guided him through the deserted alleys and canals of Venice.
He hardly heard her, too wrapped up in his grief and misery. He was sure he could feel his heart breaking in his chest, leaving nothing but a withered and blackened clump behind.
Ethan wasn’t sure how they made it back to the safehouse, or how long it took, but some senses returned to him as they stepped through the door and were swarmed by his remaining team.
“Ethan? What’s going on? What happened?” That sounded like Luther, his mind hazily supplied.
“You look as white as a sheet!” That was Benji. “What the hell happened?”
He must really look like death warmed over if they were reacting like this.
“If you gentlemen could lend me a hand?” Grace ground out beside him. “I fear he’s going to faint any moment.”
Right on cue, he could feel himself swaying on his feet.
“Jesus,” Benji gasped out and hurried over to his side, closely followed by Luther. Together, they half-dragged, half-carried him to the closest chair, and carefully deposited him into it.
Ethan wouldn’t have cared if they had dropped them to the ground instead.
He just wanted to be dead.
“Ethan?” Luther was kneeling before him, eyes full of concern.
All he could do was just stare blankly back at his friend.
He thought he might be in shock.
“Ethan, please say something? You’re scaring us.”
He didn’t want to scare his friends, so he tried to tell them. Say something. Anything. He opened his mouth, but no sound came out.
He closed it again and just shook his head, defeated.
With no answers forthcoming, Luther turned to the only other person in the room who might know what had happened.
“Grace?”
Benji turned to her as well, eyes fearful as a thought seemed to occur to him. “Where-“ he gulped, his voice shaking slightly, “where is Ilsa?”
Ethan closed his eyes and dropped his head into his hands, wishing he could block out the words that were about to come from Grace’s mouth. Wished he could turn back time and undo the past hour.
“She…uh…we’re not sure, actually. I…I saw her fighting someone on a bridge.” Grace hesitated before she continued. “I saw her get stabbed before she went over the railing and into the canal.”
There was a ringing in Ethan’s ears. He felt hot tears on his cheeks and wondered mildly when he had started crying.
Ethan remembered the splash he had heard. Remembered how he had been sprinting along the canal towards the sound. Remembered finding Grace peering into the water, looking lost. Remembered her telling him what she had seen. Remembered running up and down the canal as far as his wobbly legs would carry him, looking for Ilsa.
Remembered sinking down onto the ground after not finding any sign of her.
“We couldn’t find her.” Grace finished, omitting the word body but everyone could still hear it echoing in the room, regardless.
“Oh my God,” Benji breathed. He sounded like he was about to cry as well.
Ethan felt Luther’s strong grip on his shoulder, the action letting him know everything his friend couldn’t, wouldn’t, put into words.
Silence settled over the small group, disturbed only by the occasional shaky breath escaping into the air.
“Benji and I will go out to look for her,” Luther murmured. “You should get some rest, Ethan.”
He could feel his whole body tense at the suggestion, rebelling against the thought of leaving her out there to be found by somebody else. Somebody that wasn’t him. Leaving her out there by herself longer than he already had. It made him feel sick.
Ethan dropped his hands from his face and pushed himself to his feet. His hand sought out the back of the chair while he found his balance.
“No,” he said, his voice hoarse with emotion. “No, I’m coming with you. I need to find her.”
Luther gave him a long, searching look before he nodded. “Alright. Of course. We’ll find her, Ethan.”
Ethan managed a short nod, not trusting his voice. He knew he didn’t have to explain his reasoning; explain what he was feeling and going through right now.
He was sure everybody could read it written as plain as day on his face.
“Let us grab some equipment and then we’ll go find her, alright?”
Ethan merely nodded and then watched, feeling lost, as his friends gathered flashlights and other necessities for their search.
The ringing in his ears persisted.
Despite his tight grip on the chair, Ethan felt his hands shaking.
He stared down at them, at his white knuckles and trembling fingers, and tried to breathe.
“She’s alright, Ethan,” Benji suddenly spoke from beside him. Ethan hadn’t noticed him approaching, but couldn’t be bothered to care about that at the moment. “She’s a badass, we all know that. A little stab wound won’t get her down.”
Ethan wasn’t sure if Benji was trying to convince him, or himself. Benji himself probably didn’t know either.
Ethan hoped that Benji wasn’t expecting an answer from him because he felt that if he opened his mouth he’d vomit.
“We’re ready,” Luther said quietly a few moments later and Ethan forced himself to let go of the chair. His hands hurt as he unclenched his stiff fingers. He welcomed the slight discomfort.
He felt the others’ eyes on his back as he turned towards the door, probably making sure he didn’t collapse after all. He couldn’t fault them.
They had barely taken two steps when the doorknob turned from the outside and the door was slowly pushed open.
Ethan distantly heard the others fumble for their guns, prepared for all eventualities, while he uselessly struggled to draw his next breath, his heart suddenly remembering to beat, working overtime.
A loud sob escaped his throat as a figure emerged from behind the door; wet, bloody, and shivering, but alive.
Once again, Ethan found himself stumbling forward, barely able to see anything through his tears, yet unable to tear his eyes away from her.
“Ilsa,” he croaked, his voice barely more than a broken whisper.
She stood a handful of feet away from him, her right hand pressed against her bleeding left shoulder, hair dripping wet, just like the rest of her.
And yet.
She was a vision. A healing balm to his battered and barely beating heart.
“Oh, God, Ilsa,” he managed to make it the rest of the distance towards her, just as her legs gave out under her. He caught her in his shaking arms and together they sank to the ground, his eyes taking in the sight of her.
Pain-filled and bleary eyes looked back at him, and still, she managed a smile for him. “Hi,” she mumbled, before sinking forward, exhausted, her head resting against his shoulder.
Ethan gently wrapped his arms around her and pulled her close, allowing his warmth to seep into her. He then pressed his face against her neck, breathed in her scent, and cried.
Eventually, they both managed to pull back a little, the urge to look at each other too strong to resist. Ethan carefully, so carefully, reached up with still-trembling hands and cupped her face in his palms. He leaned forward and pressed the softest of kisses to her forehead, to the bridge of her nose, to each of her eyelids, to her cheeks and temples. Kisses that let her know how precious she was to him. Just as he reached her lips, Ilsa lifted her chin and slotted her mouth to his. Their lips were wet and salty with each of their tears, but they paid it no heed, too lost in the perfect way their mouths fit together.
Too elated to be reunited.
The ringing in his ears vanished.
Ethan kissed her as if he never wanted to stop. As if stopping to kiss her equaled his heart breaking again.
Maybe it did; he wasn’t sure. He only knew that he never wanted to feel this abysmal misery her presumed death had caused, ever again.
“I would like nothing more,” Ilsa murmured against his lips in-between kisses, “than to stay here forever and keep kissing you. But I fear I’ll actually bleed to death if we do.”
Her words, however softly spoken, snapped him out of his stupor, and into action. Getting back to his feet, he then bent over and gently scooped her into his arms; arms that thankfully were no longer shaking with the force of his loss.
As they passed by Benji and Luther on their way to the tiny room that had served as their bedroom, they each wordlessly, tearfully, squeezed Ilsa’s uninjured arm, elated to have her back.
Ilsa managed a tired, but no less grateful smile in return. “I’ll see you guys tomorrow,” she promised quietly.
“You bet,” Benji sniffled.
A moment later, Ethan gently placed her on their bed. He pressed a quick kiss to her head. “I’ll be right back.”
She could hear him rifling around the bathroom at the end of the hallway and could feel herself drifting off to the background noise.
“Ilsa, love, don’t fall asleep on me.”
“M’not.”
“Then prove it to me and open your eyes, sweetheart.”
Ilsa grunted and then forced her eyelids open. They felt terribly heavy. “There you are,” Ethan smiled. “Well done.”
Ilsa just managed a quiet hum, too exhausted to reply, but took care not to close her eyes again.
She watched him use scissors to cut away her blouse, which was drenched in blood, and drop the scraps into a trash bag.
It had been one of her favorite blouses and she was a little sad to see it go.
Ethan then wet a towel in a bowl he had set down on the small bedside table and started to clean her wound as gently as possible. Ilsa barely had the energy to flinch.
She stared at his face while he worked, noting every furrow of his brow, every twitch of his mouth turning slightly downward whenever he thought he might have hurt her.
“There,” he murmured eventually, putting the finishing touches on her bandage, “good as new.” His fingers trailed across her shoulder and down her arm. Ilsa shivered from his touch, grasping his fingers once he reached her hand.
“Thank you,” she whispered.
Ethan didn’t meet her eyes, couldn’t meet her eyes, too busy trying to keep more tears at bay.
“Hey,” Ilsa murmured, reaching for his chin with her good arm and hooking a finger under it. Gently, she turned his head to face her. “Talk to me, please.”
Ethan swallowed heavily and took a shuddering breath. “I never want to feel like this again,” he began, his voice clogged with tears and barely more than a whisper, “thinking you had died… I felt like nothing mattered anymore. I felt numb. Like I couldn’t go on, knowing you weren’t there anymore.”
“Oh, Ethan,” Ilsa whispered, gently brushing her thumb along his jaw to catch a falling tear. “I never meant to scare you like this, I-“
“I know,” he softly interrupted her. “I’m not blaming you for any of this, Ilsa. I’m just saying that I love you so much that it apparently makes me a little crazy.” He chuckled self-consciously.
“If it makes you feel any better,” she leaned forward as much as her wound would allow and pressed a kiss to his lips. Ethan sighed against her mouth and his shoulders finally lost their tension. Ilsa smiled into the kiss. “I feel the same way about you.”
Ethan chuckled wetly. “So it seems we’re in the same predicament, then.”
Ilsa nodded, still smiling. “Yep. So you better not die on me anytime soon.”
“Right back at you.”
They spent another few moments sharing gentle kisses until Ilsa had to sink back against the pillows at her back with a quiet groan, exhausted.
“I’ll get you some water for the painkillers,” Ethan said.
Ilsa just hummed, her eyes once again feeling heavy, and watched him go.
Barely outside the room, Ethan was accosted by the rest of his team, with Grace lingering further down the hallway, casually leaning against the wall.
“How is she?” Benji asked, just so managing to keep his voice down to a whisper. He was wringing his hands and his face looked pale, speaking to his anxiety about his friend’s wellbeing.
“Not as bad as it first appeared,” Ethan told them quietly, mindful not to disturb Ilsa. “I cleaned and closed her wound, which thankfully didn’t seem to do too much damage. She should be able to move her arm just fine once it’s healed, but we’ll only know for sure in time.”
“Thank God,” Luther murmured, looking as relieved as Ethan felt.
“I’m going to get her some pain meds and let her rest.” He pointed down the hall to the bathroom with a tilt of his head.
“Yeah, alright. We’ll see you guys in the morning.” Before Ethan could pass by Benji on the way to the bathroom, Benji grabbed his arm and pulled him into a spontaneous hug.
Ethan gladly returned the hug, feeling tears once again beginning to press against his eyes. He forced them back.
No words were uttered between them, but they were unnecessary anyway.
She’s back, she’s alive, she’s alright. We didn’t lose her.
Ethan thanked the God he didn’t really believe in that was the case. This night could have ended much differently.
Benji broke the hug after a long moment, gave his arm another supportive squeeze, and then vanished around the corner, following the other two.
After quickly grabbing the meds Ilsa would need, he quietly made his way back to her side only to find her dozing. He stopped beside the bed for a few seconds, just taking her in, before he gently roused her. Her eyes fluttered open and a groggy smile spread across her lips. “Hi,” she rasped.
“Hi,” he smiled back at her. “Ready to take some pain meds? I promise I’ll let you go to sleep right after.”
She chuckled and nodded. Ethan carefully propped her head and helped her gulp down the pills with some water before he laid her head back against the pillow.
He pressed another kiss against her forehead and murmured against her skin. “Sweet dreams, my love.”
“Stay?” She mumbled, already half asleep.
“I’m not going anywhere,” he promised.
As she fell asleep not even a minute later, Ethan vowed that there would never be a repetition of this evening’s events.
He’d keep her safe.
No matter what.
~fin