𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐄𝐋𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐍 — christine palmer

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 𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐍 𝐖𝐀𝐒 𝐀𝐋𝐋 Emilia could feel when she came to; her stomach felt as though Mordo had landed a triad of punches, her leg was caught under some rubble, and her chin had split the moment it collided with the ground.

 Dust was in her lungs, clogging her throat as she tried her best to breathe, there were small pieces of debris resting within her eyelashes, some falling into her eyes as she finally blinked and tried to register her surroundings.

 Everything ached, and yet Emilia did her best to push herself up. Her wrists shook beneath her weight, and her leg was easily freed from the pieces of rubble, thankfully, without damage. She stood up on shaking legs, her robe flowing around her, now torn along the left edge and tiny splatters of blood stained the chest.

 Her hand reached up, lightly grazing her chin before it dropped back to her side as she winced in pain. A tight, hoarse cough forced a multitude of dust from her lungs and Emilia scanned the area; Wong was climbing to his feet as Mordo fought off the invaders that remained within the Kamar-Taj.

 Then she remembered Stephen. The blast had thrown him through the door that led to the New York Sanctum and there was no doubt in her mind that Kaecilius' disciples, or even the man himself, had followed Stephen through.

 "Wong, Mordo?" Emilia called, her voice far lower than usual as she squinted through the cloud of dust that surrounded them. Upon seeing their eyes fall in her direction she looked to her scratched and dented sling ring, "I'm going after Stephen."

 Mordo moved to follow, stopping upon seeing Emilia shake her head, "No, stay here, protect the Kamar-Taj, see to the London sanctum... Join me after, I'm sure Stephen and I will be fine."

 "Summon a portal if you need me, us." Wong spoke, genuine care lacing his tone as he watched Emilia sigh and quickly tied her hair into a mess of a bun at the base of her neck, "Okay?"

 "I will. Be careful."

 And with that, Emilia rose her hands to summon a portal to the sanctum; amber sparks filled her vision, twirling around one another as they formed a circle, the artefacts that lined the walls of the ancient building coming into view. She directed a final nod to both Mordo and Wong, a silent warning that the two better be alright when she returned.

 The sight to which Emilia was greeted with upon her arrival in the New York sanctum was both horrific and somewhat amusing.

 Her amusement stemmed from the image of a rather sentient piece of scarlet material wrapped around one of Kaecilius' disciples, slamming him into the wall and the ground whenever it could.

 Her horror, however, came from the large, and steadily growing stain upon Stephen's chest. He'd been struck by a weapon that had clearly done vital damage, for Stephen's hands were covered in crimson blood as they shakily rested by the wound, keeping as much pressure as he could.

 Emilia glanced to the side, at the vase that had a thick layer of dust resting upon it; it looked old, and it looked expensive, and yet Emilia closed her eyes and outstretched her hands. The distinct sound of the portal she had travelled through sounded out, a short whooshing sound, the sound of fizzling embers.

 Then, a distorted sound filled her ears, the sound of something rattling inside the ceramic vase... Her eyes peeled open, the left first, then the right, both widening as the vase waved in the air with that ever-present, pale-blue rippling effect surrounding it.

 Emilia could have sighed in relief; she had managed to garner enough control over her stubborn powers to lift the object high into the air, it rattled as it wavered, and Emilia couldn't help but quirk a smile before her face fell.

 She turned towards the ruckus of the cloak and the man being beaten by it, "Move!" She called out, her brows furrowing as the cloak darted into the air, as though it knew exactly what she was about to do. Emilia twisted her hand and sliced it through the air, the vase followed and hurtled past the cloak before shattering on the back of the man's head, knocking him clean out.

 Before the man could even make contact with the ground, Emilia was moving. She bypassed the hoving cloak that waved the edges of its material towards her, she easily hopped over the man on the ground, and just as Stephen's knees were about to buckle, she grabbed his arm and threw it over her shoulder.

 "What happened?" She breathed, trying her hardest to look him in the eyes; she couldn't help but stare at the growing stain on his as her heart thudded faster.

 Stephen groaned as another wave of pain trailed through his body, "Kaecilius stabbed me."

 "Oh, god." Emilia breathed, as she did her best to hold both hands up, despite the weight Stephen was leaning on her. Of course Stephen would be the one to be followed by Kaecilius of all damn people. He was a magnet for trouble, she was certain.

 "What are you doing?"

 "You need medical help, Stephen. I might be a doctor, but I'm not that kind of doctor." Emilia responded, her hands continuing the motion that swiftly summoned a portal to the nearest hospital. Before Emilia made a move to step forwards, she tossed a look over her shoulder, she nodded towards the man on the ground before eyeing the cloak, "If he gets up, smack him about again."

 The cloak nodded, much to Emilia's bemusement, and with a final blink at the sentient outerwear, Emilia shook her head and heaved Stephen straighter; suddenly glad she and Mordo did have that sopping wet fight during a thunderstorm to build her strength.

 It was easy enough to summon the portal, but dragging Stephen through when his body had practically fallen limp proved to be rather difficult. In the end, they made it, and Emilia hastily used her lungs to call out for the nurse Stephen had briefly mentioned during his pain-fuelled mumblings as they climbed over the golden sparks into the hospital storage room.

 "Christine?" Emilia called, her voice growing more fearful and desperate as she burst through the doors, "Christine Palmer?"

 They almost tumbled over once or twice; Stephen's legs would buckle and Emilia had to steady the pair of them whilst simultaneously keeping herself from tripping over his trailing robes.

 A rather lovely looking nurse approached them, her round face and kind features were pinched in concern as she eyed Stephens slowly crumbling form, "Are you both —"

 "— Are you Christine?" Emilia huffed, her brows cinching together as a form of apology at her hastened and harsh tone.

 "Christine Palmer? She's at the nurse's station..." The poor woman trailed off and the pair continued on, stumbling and almost falling as they did.

 Emilia could feel her arms and legs burning, for by now she might as well have heaved Stephen into her arms like a blushing bride, "Christine, please!"

 It was immediately obvious to Emilia just who Christine was, for a young woman with soft features immediately dropped her clipboard and her eyes blew wide as she muttered Stephen's name in horror.

 "What — What happened?" The nurse fell into step with the rough-looking pair and wasted no time in relieving Emilia of Stephen's full weight. She wrapped one of her former co-workers' arms around her shoulders and side-eyed Emilia, taking in her cuts and scrapes, especially the throbbing wound on her chin, "To the both of you?"

 "There's no time, Christine." Stephen spoke through gritted teeth, blood continuing to trail through his robes and seep through the material, "Get me to an operating theatre, just you."

 Christine had been mentioned to Emilia before; on one of the many nights Emilia and Stephen shared together, reading away at whichever book they could find, Emilia had asked the former surgeon if there was anyone waiting for him, anyone for him to come home to.

 He had told her of Christine, his former lover and friend who had stood by him after his accident, despite how terribly he'd treated her; he still had the cracked watch she had once gifted him... A small reminder of all the kindness she had shown.

 He seemed guilty when he spoke of her, downtrodden when he narrated the things he'd told her the last time he'd seen her, and Emilia had scolded him on Christine's behalf, practically demanding that he should contact her, and he did. She had never responded.

 Emilia couldn't blame her; Stephen had spoken of what he had once said to the nurse, he hadn't been kind. He had shoved all kindness and care that Christine had shown him back in her face like the ungrateful man he had once been.

 She'd never voice it, for the feeling was corrosive, unwanted... and it was troubling, but Emilia had felt the smallest pangs of jealousy when Stephen had spoken of his previous romantic entanglement with the nurse.

 It was a terrible feeling and only a recent one. Yet it was there all the same and Emilia couldn't stand it.

 But it wasn't the time to be thinking about the little green monster that had so suddenly made an appearance within her life. Christine had done nothing wrong, neither had Stephen, and Emilia wasn't about to act as though they had. She wasn't a fool.

 A heavy breath fell from her parted lips as she heaved Stephen upwards one last time, her free arm reaching out to push open the dull white door that led to a dimly lit operating room.

 Wires and machinery were all around, and whilst Emilia wished she knew what they did, and what she could possibly do to help the man bleeding out in her arms; she didn't. She excelled in chemicals, relativity, magnetism and a whole other load of complicated things... But none would prove useful in helping a man with a bleeding wound that was slowly killing him.

 Christine, with sweat beading down her forehead and a heart thumping loudly in her chest, asked again, "What happened?"

 "He was stabbed." Emilia breathed. Her blood-stained hands were shaking as she watched Christine examine the wound that had been carved into his skin. She was terrified. Terrified of the blood on her hands, once a metaphorical image that she had so often fallen prey to, was now sat before her.

 She had always had blood on her hands, but seeing it before her eyes rendered her immobile. She swallowed, a short breath pushing through pursed lips as she tore her eyes from the crimson stains and settled her gaze upon Stephen who was slowly deteriorating.

 His skin was covered in a sheen of sweat, his breaths were coming out in harsh puffs, and his eyes were clamped shut.

 "It's — It's a cardiac tamponade," Stephen instructed his former lover, his voice hoarse.

 Christine nodded, yet her glances at both Stephen and Emilia didn't go unnoticed. She furrowed her brows, biting at her lips as though to keep her words trapped before she finally sighed. Her hands were dutifully working away at clearing all material from the wound, but she swiftly made eye contact with Emilia, "What are you both wearing?"

 Emilia looked down at her robes. The maroon material was dirtied with dust and blood, dirt was probably smeared across her face, mingling with the crimson liquid that trailed from the small cut on her cheekbone, as well as the crusted wound on her chin.

 Emilia had never truly thought about the robes she wore on a day to day basis; she had clothes from her time before her teaching, yet she never wore them... Perhaps out of respect? Nobody was ever seen wandering the Kamar-Taj out of their robes.

 Before Emilia could respond, Christine spoke again as she tapped away at Stephen's chest "The chest cavity is clear."

 "No..." Stephen groaned, his hands clenched into fists beside him, "The — The blood in the pericardial sac..."

 Stephen's hand fell limp, hanging from the side of the table and Emilia froze again. Her eyes couldn't move from the singular drop of blood that fell from the tip of his index finger, splattering on the ground.

 Static filled her ears and as a beep rang out from one of the machines in the room, she snapped out of her stupor and dug her own nails into her palms to keep herself grounded. "Stephen?" She called, approaching him with hesitance and a look of fear plastered on her features.

 "Christine?" Emilia muttered as she slipped her dirtied hand into Stephen's blood-soaked one. She couldn't feel anything but the stickiness of the liquid that coated his skin, and the warmth that radiated from him... But that also meant that she couldn't feel the tremors that usually wracked his hands.

 "No, no, no..." Christine muttered, her hands gently shaking the man. He was entirely unresponsive. Not a single groan of pain or witty remark to be found and Christine hastily moved towards the heart monitor, steady hands grasping at one of the wires she quickly stuck to the man.

 A beep sounded out, a glaring emerald number alighting the screen. Emilia exhaled, her hand unintentionally clasping Stephens in a firm grip.

 The former physicist had never feared needles, and thus when Christine held up the needle that was at least the size of her hand, she didn't shudder... But she could see Christine's hands finally begin to tremble; Stephen's life was quite literally in her hands.

 The tip of the gleaming needle was a mere millimetre away from Stephen's chest when Stephen's head suddenly appeared beside Emilia's, "Just a little higher." He instructed, his concentration on his own body never faltering, despite the shrieks both women let out.

 Emilia clasped Stephen's hand so tightly that she was certain it'd fall off, her eyes narrowed into slits as she turned her head to Stephen's astral form that was mere inches from her face, "Why would you do that?"

 "The needle was going to be put in the wrong place..." Stephen trailed off as he gestured towards the nurse who was thoroughly dumbfounded as she stared at Stephen, and gaped at how perfectly unbothered Emilia seemed to be.

 "So you thought that scaring us would... Move the needle? You almost got yourself impaled."

 "It's not my fault you got scared."

 "Oh my God..." She whispered beneath her breath, eyes closing to retain any and all retorts she could possibly think of, though had he have been on his feet and not presently dying, Emilia would have happily tossed something at his glaring forehead.

 "What —" Christine stuttered, "What am I seeing right now?"

 "His astral form." Emilia replied for the nurse, her eyes glossing over the floating head beside her.

 "Is — Are you dead?"

 Stephen shook his head, the lines on his forehead becoming more prominent as his voice grew grave, "No, Christine. But I am dying."

 Emilia shuddered at that, a harsh swallow bobbing at her throat as she trained her eyes on the bloodied parts of Stephen's robes and unbeknownst to her, Stephen had caught the small movement, his eyes softening as he watched her chest rise and fall far faster than it had been.

 "Okay..." Christine murmured to herself, and despite the fact that her former lover was both on the table dying, and floating nonchalantly in the centre of the room with a body that she could see through, a small smile tugged the corner of her lips upwards as Stephen looked to the woman beside him with something akin to guilt and adoration gleaming on his features.

 She cleared her throat, breaking both herself and the two other occupants of the dull room out of their stupor, with that, Stephen drifted forwards, hovering over his physical form. He pushed a single finger onto the crimson-stained skin of his physical forms chest and with the magic he now possessed, his chest lit up.

 Both Christine's and Emilia's eyes widened as they took in every vein and ventricle that had been illuminated for the nurse.

 "Wow..." Christine breathed, eyes glossing over the anatomy before her, "I've — I've never seen a wound like this, what were you stabbed with?"

 "I don't know," Stephen replied, his eyes falling back to Emilia, knowing that the woman had far more knowledge on such things than he did.

 Emilia stepped forward, her eyes finding the wound once more, "It was a space shard." Upon receiving looks that quite plainly portrayed their confusion, Emilia shrugged softly, her dirtied and torn robes swirling around her, "I only know their name, not how they're formed... I don't know much more about them."

 A beat of silence passed as both Emilia and Stephen watched Christine tend to the bleeding wound upon the former surgeon's chest; it brought Emilia comfort to see his astral form, knowing that he was still alive, but with every passing second she was terrified that she'd look to the man beside her and see nothing but thin air.

 It was both comforting, yet terrifying that she relied so heavily on Stephen's mere presence. They had been beside one another from the very day Stephen had quite literally tumbled through the doors of the Kamar-Taj and landed at her feet.

 Their mornings began with studying, their afternoons with training, and their evenings were filled with nothing but themselves. They'd speak of their pasts, no matter how much it hurt. They would laugh and tease until one of them, usually Emilia, would begin to nod off. At which point, Stephen would haul her to her feet and guide her across the hall.

 But since the night filled with terrors that Stephen has stumbled upon, their starlit evenings were often spent together.

 One would find the other, and Emilia's head would find Stephen's chest whilst his arms would find her waist before each would fall asleep. Nothing else had been shared except the comfort they each brought the other.

 The nightmares still came, but whenever her body began to twitch and turn, Stephen's hands would shake her awake, and his low tone would soothe her. He would always wake her before the worst parts of her dreams.

 As for Stephen, at nobody else's fault bar his own, he had always been alone. He would push people away the moment he began to care, for he couldn't lose anybody else. His heart had turned to stone, softened only by Christine and Emilia...

 He was certain he could never voice just how much Emilia had changed him. People could see it, of course they could, but Stephen could feel it.

 "I'm going to have to vanish now," Stephen spoke, his eyes catching sight of the very enemy Emilia had taken down. He hated to see her worry, hated to see her features contort with fear, like they were now, "I'll be alright." He muttered softly, before clearing his throat and nodding at Christine, "Keep me alive, will you?"

 "Do you need me to —" Emilia began, her words fading away as Stephen shook his head.

 Perhaps it was mildly foolish of him to push away her help, but she was still unnerved by using her abilities, and who knew if they'd even work in her astral form? There were too many things that had the possibility of going wrong... He knew she could fight with her hands... Oh he knew all too well, but he could do it. He could prove that he was able to fight for himself, rather than have Emilia holding his hand everywhere they went.

"I'll be fine. I promise."

 Emilia faltered, and her feet slowly carried her towards Christine's side, ready and willing to take raiders from the woman if need be, "Don't make me promises, Stephen."

 Stephen said nothing, and he avoided Christine's eyes at all cost; he wasn't a fool, and he'd easily caught Chrstines knowing, and saddened looks between the pair that had so hastily burst into the hospital. She knew Stephen cared for the former physicist, she knew and he could tell that it hurt.

 They'd left off on an argument, an argument where Stephen berated their former love for one another, scoffing at the mere thought of it... But he had loved her. Only now, he didn't. He could watch her face and smile when she did, he cared for her, but he didn't feel that pang in his heart that came whenever she was near.

 He didn't long to touch her skin, or to caress the side of her face like he once had... He still felt that need for a touch against warm skin, the need to see lines around smiling lips... But those feelings were just no longer for Christine.

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21-09-2021

don't forget to vote and especially comment; many of you aren't interacting with this story, and honestly, i'll probably stop updating if that continues to be the case as getting feedback and comments from you is what drives me to write and update.