Greeted with the slammed door in his face, Micah calmly knocked against the aged wood.

She coughed and with a strained voice finally yelled through the door. "Take the hint, Micah, please! I'm done talking about this. Thanks for ruining my night!"

Micah leaned against the door with a frustrated sigh. He had a mind to go in anyway, but she was right--he needed boundaries. He had obviously picked a wound and his stomach knotted with guilt. If he wouldn've had access to the Eye, this could've been avoided, but being grounded mean cutoff from a reaper's tools. It was maybe a blessing in disguise because he wouldn't have seen into her psyche to see what actually motivated her. She was telling the truth. Hal seemed incredibly grateful for his life and actually changed his path because of it. He should've been dead--but he was alive, happy and doing good things in the world.

That's a fool's paradise, Micah. One day, she going to save someone who shouldn't be saved. Micah leaned his head on the door and sighed. She would never believe such a thing, he'd seen it in those eyes of hers. Briseis seemed to believe in people being inheritently good. He didn't know how else to describe it.

She was...naive.

The realization of that gripped him. After all that she's seen? Experienced?

Micah scratched his head, puzzled in thought. This witch was becoming more interesting.

And powerful...

She was incredibly powerful for someone who wasn't a 'witch' as Micah couldn't remember many he's met with the power to resurrect someone that badly mutilated. Stories about witches raising ancient people from the dead was just that--stories. Most real necromancers could barely bring back and restore a vessel to full health at all, let alone recover the soul and fully restore the body. But Briseis did. Many times, in varying degrees. Granted, it wasn't without severe consequence. The headaches were most likely a permanent ailment to her near death resurrection of Hal. It was amazing she didn't die. The fact that she had been physically able to leave the scene and not turn to mush right next to Hal, was madness. A shiver went through him as he felt cold for the first time in forever as he began to wonder the limits of her gift.

Maybe she was more dangerous than even Azrael thought. Or maybe that's why Azrael hated her so much. Micah didn't put it past his boss. Azrael demanded absolute control. Anyone who could threaten that was immediately put on his shit list. He scoffed softly, putting the Master of Death out of his mind. It was his fault, after all, Micah was down here on the mortal coil. Not only breaking rules, but realizing very human needs were budding within him like the thorniest rose. He'd lied earlier--that melty goodness as she called it, was appetizing. Hunger? Pain? What the hell was next?

The wicked three-lettered word immediately popped into his head. Micah groaned and knocked his head against the door a bit too hard. I've gotta get my shit together so I can leave. Soon.

But right now, he was more concerned with the state of Briseis. It began to physically pain him to hear her cry. The connection of empathy was raw and though she was difficult, Micah continued to feel a sense of protection of her. As if she needed him. He heard the toilet flush between her sobs and groans.

He knocked again, turning his face to the door. "I'm sorry, Briseis. I didn't mean to make you sick and I didn't mean to dredge up old fear from that night. I just--I just needed to understand why you risked so much to save him. I just didn't understand."

Briseis pulled the towel from the rack and brought it down to wipe her face. When her hand brushed against some wet strands of her hair, she swore under her breath. Great. Nothing says awesome than getting a little drunken vomit in your hair. Annoyance and pain written on her face, she used the towel to clean her hair. Her eyes were squinting as she forgot to cut off the light. "Well, now you know! You and your reaper buddies can keep thinking me as a demon from hell that loves to ruin your lives. Or just kill me now because my head wants to fucking explode."

"Briseis. Please let me in so I can help you." Micah patiently leaned against the door.

"No, I just want this to be my quiet, dark cave. No one gets to see me like this, okay? No one!" Throwing the towel across the bathroom, she pulled her knees to her chest, almost in fetal position. How did I end up having someone around to actually see me break? So many times when memories got the best of her, or stress, or life in general, she held on to the bough until it broke. But the beauty was that when it did break, it broke with her in isolation. Her ramblings, her grieving and insecurities weren't out there for someone to watch and judge. Yet here she was: drunk, sad and hurting with a concerned reaper on the other end of her bathroom door.

I seriously need to re-evaluate my life.

Micah put his hand on the knob, but didn't turn it yet. "I'm not going to judge you, Briseis. I just want to help you."

"You can be a doll and bring me my drugs so I can pass out and forget this absolute horror of a night even existed."

Micah turned to look towards her bedroom and frowned. "You said your bedroom is off limits, remember?"

He found himself smiling at her spiteful mumbling low from the other side of the door. Wouldn't take a rocket scientist to figure out all the colorful words she had for him. But she didn't shout anything else, so he took that as a moment to ask once more.

"Now can I please come in?"

Briseis finally pulled herself up slowly, as the nausea reminded her to take it easy. God, why am I doing this. Who the fuck just lets Death in? Obviously her, because she's an idiot. An idiot in pain. She put the toilet seat down and plopped down on it, putting her head in her hands. "For love of all that is holy, make it quick so I can go to bed."

Micah quickly opened the door to see her sitting quietly on the toilet. Her legs pressed together at the knees and Briseis held her face, softly taking deep breaths. He knelt down in front of her. "Your migraines are from healing your friend, aren't they?"

She simply nodded her head at the sound of his soft voice. After a beat, she added, "Believe or not, this was the least unpleasant side effects of that night, so I guess I can't complain." She sighed. "I'd look you in the face, but my eyes need to stay closed."

Micah clicked the light off and the bathroom turned completely black. "We're in darkness now." Only a sliver of light came from between the blinds and the crack under the door. His eyes immediately adjusted and could see her in front of him.

Briseis began to think of her mother and the darkness and new tears squeezed from her eyes. "Darkness. Seems that I can't ever get away from it." She wiped her tears and sniffed. "There's a loneliness that finds me after all the times I've reached in that dark and pulled a soul back from the abyss. That night with Hal, I'll never forget the searching for him through that thick black darkness. Feeling that chill and pain slice through my body and asking myself: 'Is this what awaited my mother? Is this what awaits me?'" Briseis shook her head. "The darkness wants vengence from what I've taken I'm sure. To make me alone in it." She put her head down, shame in her voice. "I know. I'm really screwed up. Just ignore me."

"I told you I'm not going to judge you. I meant it." He gently reached up and pulled her hands from her face, allowing him to study those features that seemed to fascinate him. He could smell the citrus soap on her smooth, olive skin. Saw the glossy streaks of where tears traveled down her cheeks and her crimson, pouty lips were tight as if to hold back some emotion. But she really hid nothing. He gently gathered her shaky hands and guided them to her lap and held them. The feel of her soft skin enticed him to move closer to her. That peaceful draw of her aura made her want to fall into her. Even in the darkness, even in sorrow she was as vivid and lovely. "Just keep focusing on your breathing."

As she breathed, she inhaled the soft floral scent of him and found it somewhat calming. "What are you doing?" She whispered, her eyes still closed.

"Shhhh." he whispered. "This will help." Hesitantly, he reached out and placed his hands on her temples, softly caressing her face. His fingers delicately massaged her temples and concentrated on finding the pain within her to dull it.

Briseis moaned in satisfaction, her head slightly leaned towards him. "That feels amazing."

Micah watched her in the dark as her head finally lifted upwards with a sigh. He quickly absorbed the pain that racked her body, but he couldn't stop looking at her. Her soft moans of gratification was music to his ears and her reaction to his touch darkly thrilling.

She's off limits. So reign this human infatuation right now, he told himself.

Briseis noticed the slicing, throbbing head pain that was pulling her down, making her nauseous, had disappeared. His touch was extremely warm, but gentle and deceptively comforting. Her eyelids again heavy, she savored the attention he gave, driving the tortuous pain away from her. "My migraine is gone." She opened her eyes, but couldn't adjust to the darkness in the bathroom. "What kinda voodoo you're doing right now? Whatever it is, you're welcome to continue."

"Reapers aren't all about death and darkness, Briseis," he said with a deep, but low voice. "There's a light within us too. We use sparingly, of course, but we're capable of healing. Sometimes it can help souls." He lowered his hands from her and stood up. "Feeling a bit better?"

Briseis pushed her hair back and nodded quietly. "Yeah. Yeah I am." Embarrassment tensed her body as she realized Micah was the first person to ever see her true self. The pain-ridden, emotional rollercoaster of a woman who lived her life around fighting death. The one who feels her curse in life was for the Divine to deny her the opportunity to use that same gift given to her to save the life of her own mother. How strange to have someone like him--a reaper--to be there helping her when he should be punishing her or using her obvious weakness to her advantage.

Her eyes finally adjusted and was able to see the soft detail of Micah's face. He didn't stare at her as if she was a mutant. He actually looked at her as if she mattered. A minute or two passed before she spoke again. "Thank you. I'm so sorry to dump all over you. I-"

Micah shook his head. "You don't have to explain. I understand a lot more than you think, but you should get some rest. The affects are not permanent, unfortunately, but you should no longer feel discomfort for a while. I believe the trigger of your memories made this far worse this time. I think your body still remembers." He began walk away. He needed to get away from her gravity. That strange pull she had over him. A bridge between what he was and wanted to be for her was tempting to form and it was scaring the hell outta him. She was right. He needed boundaries. "You weren't completely wrong. I am your darkness, Briseis Devareaux. But I'm not here for vengence." He stood at the door and looked back before closing the door behind him. "I'm here for clemency."

###

How did you feel about this chapter? I feel like walls are breaking on both sides.

So Micah could've taken her pain away the night they made the oath. Why didn't he do it then?

Apparently, Briseis is a lot stronger than she realizes. Remember, Micah said most necromancers die trying to do what she did for Hal! Scary stuff.

Thanks for reading and another chapter will be coming next week!