you can call me L

the woman she loves more than anything.

it hadn’t been a targeted attack, hadn’t been someone looking to hurt muse personally.

it was random, and it happened to you.

you were fine, all things considered. just a couple scrapes on your arms from where you’d been pushed against a brick wall.

you had gone out to dinner with a friend, and heather had known something was off.

well — she hadn’t known for sure, but she had a gut feeling, and that feeling was right.

she had scoped out the alleys by the restaurant, waiting for the text from you that you were headed home.

when the text came, she followed a good distance behind you as you began the walk back to your apartment.

you were almost home when a man turned the corner, grabbing the strap of your purse and tugging hard. the force of it sent you crashing into the side of a nearby building.

before the man could do anything more, he was being dragged to the ground, a flash of black and white pinning him down.

she found you. you were safe.

your eyes widen at the glint of a silver blade in her hand, then you squeeze them shut at the first slash into his skin.

you press yourself further into the brick wall, hands gripping the bag slung over your shoulder tightly.

you can hear it, every sick squelch of the knife piercing his skin, every grunt of effort from her lips, — muffled by the mask — and his weak, strained cries of pain.

she had gone for the throat first, he wasn’t able to make much noise.

heather looks over her shoulder at you, then back down to the knife covered in blood.

you were shaking, breathing fast.

you were scared.

she steps away from the man, and heads over to you.

“i’m sorry, baby please-” her gloved hands hover by your cheeks, seeing the way you look past her and at the man bleeding out on the pavement. “i didn’t meant to scare you. i would never hurt you. never.”

your ears were still ringing but you managed to make out what she was saying, eyes finding hers — the only visible part of her face through the mask, the one thing separating heather from muse.

“you didn’t scare me. i just wasn’t expecting it, any of it. he’s the one who scared me.” your hands cover hers, lowering them.

you could feel the blood smear against your skin, but you couldn’t find it in yourself to care.

she had done this for you, without hesitation. and she’d do it a million times over if it meant you were safe.

“baby, i’m okay.” you say quietly, and she lets out a breath. “let’s just go home.”

once you were out of sight of your attacker, she reaches up and pulls off the hat, wig, and mask, tucking them into a pocket on the inside of her coat.

she follows you up the fire escape and into your apartment, relief flooding you as soon as your feet hit the floor.

she heads for the closet, pulling out her duffle bag and discarding her gloves and coat, knowing she’d need to wash the blood from them later.

right now the only thing that mattered was you.

“shit, babe.” you step towards her, noticing a patch of blood soaking through her sleeve. she must’ve gotten cut during the struggle.

she notices the blood staining your hands, brows furrowing.

“i’m sorry, i’m sorry.” she inhales sharply, pulling back from you.

“heather, don’t do this, don’t pull away.” you close the space between you once more, “let’s get you cleaned up.”

“i’m fine.” she insists, grabbing your wrists gently, lifting your arms to inspect the scrapes.

“see? nothing to worry about.” you smile, one hand leaving her grasp to cradle her face.

she leans into your touch and takes a deep breath, trying to calm her racing heart.

it could’ve been a lot worse.

eventually you make your way to the bathroom, washing the blood from your hands and stripping out of your clothes.

heather stands behind you, cleaning the gash on her arm with a hiss.

“let me help?” you pout, taking the washcloth from her and gently dabbing at the wound.

as soon as you finished cleaning up, you both hopped in the shower, warm water working to wash away the blood and stress that remained.

heather was still tense, feeling as if she somehow failed you by not getting to him before he managed to lay a single hand on you, her brain running off in a million different directions, thinking up every single worst case scenario.

she kept gently running her hands along your skin, making sure she hadn’t missed a single cut or bruise.

“i’m okay.” you whisper, wiping a wet strand of hair from her cheek, “i’m okay.”

“besides, you got hurt more than me.” you laugh softly, leaning in to kiss her temple, “and you got there in time. me and my purse are very thankful.”

that gets a smile out of her and it makes you grin.

“i love you, heather.” you wrap an arm around her waist.

“i never wanted any of this to touch you.” she closes her eyes, leaning her head against your shoulder.

“i know, but i can handle it. nothing is gonna scare me away, i’m not going anywhere. i promise.”

she knows now that she can’t keep you from being stained by the blood she spills, but she has newfound confidence in her ability to keep you safe when it comes down to it.

she sighs, “i love you. more than you could ever know.”