A Golden Opportunity: Part Four
Nessian [Modern AU]
Notes: Wow, long time no speak, no post, no write. But I'm back - maybe, who knows (hopefully). It turns out this little fic is the thing that made me want to write again and it's been so fun rediscovering my Nessian babies.
No idea if anyone is reading this anymore (@simpingfornestaarcheron tells me the Nessian fandom isn't as active on here anymore so I live with no expectations) but here's an update anyway - and it's also on A03! Big thanks to @noirshadow as always, for being my champion and for getting out her red pen for me despite being absolutely slammed at work.
Oh, and this is angsty AF I am sorry.
PS Sorry, this taglist is most likely HUGELY out of date but it's all I have. Shout if you are under a diff name / don't want to hear from me anymore - TY.
Part FourĀ - Cassian
Cassian didnāt hear from Nesta for weeks. She didnāt turn up to brunches or family events where he was in attendance. And, of course, she didnāt text him. That conversation remained entirely untouched, like a lone tombstone; surrounded by overgrown grass and weeds, some abandoned flowers brown and crumbling collected with a dirty ribbon at its feet.
If it had not been for the subtle nods to Nestaās continued existence, Cassian might have thought sheād been entirely erased from the planet. But there were name drops from her sisters, mentions of meeting for coffee, of having her over for lunch. At dinner the previous week, Cassian had overheard Elain confiding to Feyre that Nesta had seemed out of sorts. And Cassian, who had been straining to overhear the conversation, had felt both pained and filled with some a stark sense of hope that if sheād at least let him go, at the very least, she might be mourning him, too.Ā
Maybe, he thought fatuously, she cared too much. Maybe, she was still mulling them over, weighing the pros and cons.Ā
Maybe, by some sort of miracle, she would come to the conclusion that he was worth it.
But that hope dwindled as the days continued to pass and Cassian still heard nothing from Nesta. At some point, he knew he needed to take her silence as a no. Knew he would need to follow through on his side of the bargain. Allow that line to be drawn beneath them, the flame snuffed out until there was nothing but ash.
As the weeks passed, Cassianās spiky irritability fell into a flat sadness that physically ached. He continued to run every day despite his protesting knee. He continued to work himself until he just couldnāt anymore and tried not to think of her.Ā
But Nesta crept through the gaps in his mind anyway - snatches of her, always beautiful, always sardonically cruel in their torture. Jasmine and vanilla. The smell of her skin as he buried his nose into her neck. Wisps of golden-brown hair escaping from a braid. The glint in her eye, the upwards tilt of her chin as she accepted a challenge.Ā
The taste of her mouth, the sound of her sigh, her breath whispering across his cheek.Ā
A hint of a smile - then better, the sound of her laugh. A true one, just for him.
And on and on it went with no reprieveā
āIs that the amended timetable for next week?ā
Anyone else might have jumped, but Cassian was used to Azrielās ability to sneak up on him.Ā
The thought of Nesta vanished in a wisp, like smoke rising from an extinguished candle. And despite having spent the past few weeks trying to forget her, Cassian found himself irrationally disgruntled that Azriel had interrupted the vision.
Leaning back in the leather desk chair that resided in he and Azrielās shared office, Cassian grunted in affirmation.
āBoxing needs to be at six thirty if you want me to take that class,ā Azriel replied. āIām in a meeting at the Sangravah site until four.ā
Cassian made another noise in the back of his throat. Scribbled out the timetable with a little too much outward frustration and acknowledged, not for the first time, how tired he was.Ā
But regardless of the fact that his eyelids were actually burning due to a severe lack of sleep, the problem still remained that whenever Cassian tried to rest, his mind did the opposite.Ā
And then he was thinking of Nesta again. Of the way she stared dead ahead during their car ride, unable to face him as he laid his feelings bare - how heād always felt right from the start.
Not that it had made any difference.Ā
And then there was his mum, too.Ā
She was always at the forefront of his mind at this time of year. The blurry shape of her, the edges of her fading into shadow, time slowly eating away at her frame until she threatened to disappear completely.Ā
Soon, all that would be left of her would be the cavernous space where she should have been. And Cassian knew that would haunt him too - worse, even, his mourning growing even more acute.Ā
For now, he was lucky enough to still hear the crackle of his mumās laugh, feel her chapped palm warm against his as they walked hand-in-hand down the street. He could even scent the shampoo of her hair as she hugged him close, her hair tickling his nose. Could remember how, whilst his chin always met her bony shoulder, Cassian always felt like they fit just right. The two of them, together - always.Ā
But now it was just him, alone.Ā
Reaching for the red pen atop the surface of his desk, Cassian intended to tackle the timetable for good. But then his laptop pinged with a notification.
Lifting his eyes to the messaging app open on his browser, Cassian expected to find his one thirty pm client cancelling on him.
But what he saw had his fingers diving for the keyboard.
Nesta š§āāļø: Where are you?
Cassian felt his heart beat with such force that it lurched upwards, tearing through pericardium to lodge itself impossibly in his throat.Ā
His fingers moved before he could command them. Had hit enter before he could even read his response.
Cassian: Work.Ā
Cassianās thoughts began to race, his anticipation a tempo to the rapidity of his pulse. Did she finally want to talk? Had she finally made a decision on them? Was she going to end it all without even looking him in the eye, a hastily typed dismissal to match the original message sheād sent to cancel their first date?
He couldnāt bear waiting, couldnāt bear that Nesta was not typing. But then, as the wait became a little too long, something crept along the back of his neck. A feeling. A premonition. An omen that something was off.
āWhat is it?āĀ
There was a rare frown that accompanied the usual chill to Azrielās voice.Ā
But Cassian didnāt have time to tell his brother to kindly fuck off and stop reading the conversation over his shoulder.Ā
Instead, he was typing, his fingers moving at a speed he hadnāt known possible - terrified that if he was not fast enough, that she might disappear on him. Ā
He hammered his fingers into the keys, asking what he, somehow, knew to be true. Whatās wrong?
Three dots appeared. Then disappeared. Then came back.Ā
Cassian found he was holding his breath without realising. And when the answer finally came, his heart seemed to thud to a stop in his throat, as if it were too horrified to beat.
Nesta š§āāļø: Iām at Kaffe at the corner of Bone and Salt. Tomas is here.
Cassianās office chair roared as it wheeled back across the hardwood floor - straight into the granite planes of Azrielās stomach before rebounding back into Cassianās knees.Ā
Not that Cassian registered it. He was already leaning back over the oak desk, firing off the question he needed an answer to.Ā
Cassian: Has he seen you?
No. The cursed three dots appeared again, but this time they didnāt take long to disappear as Nestaās reply materialised on the screen. I donāt think so, he shouldnāt know I live near here. But I canāt leave. Iād have to walk straight past him.
Cassian: Stay there.
Blindly, Cassian reached for the jacket heād slung over the back of his chair, for the mobile in his jeansā pocket.Ā
When he turned towards the door, Azriel was already there, car keys in hand.Ā
āKaffe?ā he asked.
The downwards jerk of Cassianās chin passed as a nod. āOn the corner of Bone and Salt.ā
āLetās go,ā Azriel said as Cassianās mobile buzzed again in his hand.
Another notification from Nesta. And when Cassian read what sheād typed, he knew just how it sounded. Small and unsure and so unlike his Nesta that Cassian wanted to beat somethingāa very particular someone until they didnāt stand again.Ā
Nesta š§āāļø: Cassian?Ā
Cassian: Iām coming to get you. Donāt try and walk past him, ok? Promise me, Nesta.Ā
For a moment, nothing. Then:
Nesta š§āāļø: How long will you be?
Cassian: Fifteen minutes if the traffic is good. Can you wait that long?
Not that Cassian could change the shape of time to get there sooner. But what he meant was: can you survive? Can you keep it together until then? Because Cassian had witnessed Nesta scared around her ex and it made someone who was usually perfectly composed, wild and unpredictable. He had no idea what Nesta sheād be today. Whether sheād suddenly bolt, her fear overriding her ability to be inconspicuous and grabbing Tomasās attention in the process. Or whether sheād freeze where she was, paralysed with fear, unable to move.Ā
The rear lights of Azrielās Tesla flashed through the drizzle as they exited via the back entrance of the gym.
Cassian didnāt remember tugging on his seat belt or the soft chime of the infotainment system as Azriel brought the car to life.Ā
All he was focused on was the screen, his conversation with Nesta as she told him, Donāt let him see you.
That was something Cassian knew all too well.Ā
In the time Cassian had had the displeasure of knowing Tomas, the male had been consumed with the idea that he and Nesta were having an affair behind his back. On that count, heād been wrong. But there was no denying to anyone who knew him that Cassian had taken one look at Nesta across the room at Feyreās birthday party and known that his gravity had just shifted, his world tilting even further on its axis.
Cassian: He wonāt.
Nesta š§āāļø: He wonāt?
Cassian: He wonāt. Iāll be there soon, ok?
After that, no answer came. Every second on the road was torture, but thankfully, despite the spitting rain darting patterns on the windshield, the traffic was on their side. Azriel streamlined along the road, smooth as butter and for a while, they remained in silence.
Until finally, Azriel asked, āWhat do you need?ā
So, Cassian told him. Together they formed a plan. Together, they stepped out of the automatic doors and into the small parking lot at the rear of the coffee shop, ready to step into their assigned roles.
After all, he and Azriel had always been a team.
Yet, it all seemed to take too long - especially as Cassian waited uselessly in the alleyway out the back. Feet eating up the rain-soaked tarmac, pacing back and forth, past the foul smelling bins that lined the concrete wall and the employee entrance to the coffee shop opposite.
Too much time had passed when the back door finally opened with a loud clank.Ā
A girl stood in the entryway, the heavy industrial door propped open with an outstretched arm. She was wearing a coffee-stained apron, her hair haphazardly piled atop her head.
She looked unsure. āAre you Cassian?ā
Together, they walked down the short echoey corridor, the vinyl floor squeaking too loudly beneath the wet soles of Cassianās shoes.
āThereās a door through that closet,ā the girl told him. She pointed through the doorway, into the darkness. āIf you open it youāll be at the back of the shop.āĀ
Cassian stepped over a mop and bucket, passing cleaning supplies and endless stock that lined the shelves: takeaway cups, stirrers, and sugar packets.
Then the door was there. The light from the shop on the other side shining through the cracks, beckoning him.Ā
It was like stepping into another world, out of a vacuum. Immediately, the quiet from the storeroom was swallowed up by the noise of the shop: the chatter, the moving bodies, the background music coming from the speakers on the walls.Ā
The mid-morning rush was a relief - a shop bustling with customers made it easier to be inconspicuous. After all, it was exactly that which allowed Azriel to slip away from the front counter and out the entrance, a baseball cap angled low to shield his face from view.
Theyād meet at the car as planned - once Cassian had extricated Nesta from the shop.
Easing the door shut behind him, Cassian scanned his surroundings. It was no surprise that his eyes immediately snagged at the sight of Nestaās golden head. She was not sitting too far from where heād entered, her laptop balanced on the tabletop in front of her.Ā
The tension knotting her shoulders, her neck, her ramrod spine, were as clear as day. In fact, the utter stillness emanating from her could only be described as inanimate - that of a statue.
And Cassian knew what had caused it, had been prepared for it, but when he saw the evidence before him, it still struck hard.Ā
Ahead of Nesta, only by a few seats, was Tomas Mandray.
He was leaning back in his chair in the way Cassian had learnt to expect of Nestaās ex-partner: taking up more space than he should for a male who was neither wide or tall. Slouching practically sideways in his chair, Tomas was scrolling mindlessly on his phone. One foot was stretched out so it was slap bang in the lone aisle that separated the two halves of the shop. The calf of his other leg rested atop it, the sole of his shoe sticking out so anyone wanting to get past him would have to ask for him to move - Nesta included.
Anger flared inside of Cassian, fresh and salt hot. It tasted like blood, smelt like it, looked like it, but Cassian made himself push back the colour red as he began to make his way down the aisle.
Nesta didnāt sense him coming. Nor did Cassian expect her to. He hadnāt messaged her since heād first entered the car and it had been a decision heād weighed up the entire rest of the ride.
But in the end, both he and Azriel had decided that if Nesta knew the intended plan and it went sideways, she might panic enough to do something rash.
It was a choice Cassian came to regret the moment he opened his mouth.
āNesta.ā
It didnāt matter that heād had purposefully moulded her name into something soft: Nesta jumped a mile. Then, two things happened at once. The first was that her head turned so fast Cassian wouldnāt have been surprised if sheād gotten whiplash. The second, was that the shock of seeing him sent the mobile in her hand flying.
Cassian didnāt have a moment to think, but his reflexes never failed him. His hand shot out to catch the phone at the same time that Nestaās did. The mobile missed the table by a breath and tumbled into her lap where they trapped it, their fingers tangled.Ā
Nestaās grip was so white Cassian could see the straining tendons. Breathing hard, he raised his eyes to meet hers only to find that theyād already snapped back to Tomas.
Cassian had seen that look of fixation in people plenty before. There was flight or fight but there was also freeze ā and Nesta was definitely in the latter. He needed to get her attention for long enough that he could convince her to leave, but with her eyes so saucer-wide that he could see the whites of them, her pupils blown, skin bloodless, breathing shallow, Cassian knew it was going to be easier said than done.Ā
āHey sweetheart.ā The affectionate term came out in a low rumble that did nothing to penetrate Nestaās steadfast attention. Cassian sank into a crouch beside her. Tried again, āNesta.ā
This time there was enough quiet command in his voice that her eyes finally dragged to look at him. It was fleeting. A scant acknowledgement that he was kneeling beside her, but it was all Cassian had to work with so he seized it. āTime to go.ā
But it was too late. Nestaās attention was already back on Tomas and she was drawing herself in, shrinking back into her chair until she looked so small and so unlike the Nesta Cassian had come to know, that his heart cracked on her behalf.
It physically ached, that fissure. Threatened to snatch Cassianās breath as he teetered at the edge of it - a depthless cavern, jagged like a lifeline.
For years, Cassian had watched as Nesta glued herself back together. Heād seen it all. The grief of who sheād been, who sheād been forced to become when, on her knees, she realised the shattered pieces of her identity didnāt fit back together. Splinters were missing, core fragments of her personality had changed shape so monumentously that she finally realised they would never slot back into the past version of herself.Ā
And sheād weathered it. Mourned it, yes, but then Nesta had gritted her teeth and fought it. Discovered the new pieces of herself, acknowledged the changed, filled the gaps until sheād drawn together into someone who was stronger, more resilient yet intrinsically still Nesta.Ā
Cassian would not let that battle go to waste. Would not let a male with a small dick and an abusive temper ruin someone who, quite frankly, was the most amazing person heād ever met.
Shifting his weight onto his better leg, Cassian ignored his throbbing knee and said, āWe donāt need to walk past him. We can leave out the backāā
But Nesta was shaking her head. When she finally spoke, her confession was a hoarse whisper. āI canāt do it, Cassian.ā
In all the time Nesta had known him, sheād barely ever called him by his name. Heād imagined her saying it like it was a habit, for sure. But he hadnāt thought it would come out with a confession, in a crackled, broken whisper.Ā
Gently coaxing Nestaās phone from her vice-like grip, Cassian slipped it into his jacket pocket. Then, before her fingers could ball into fists he slowly threaded their fingers together. āYes, you can. I know you can. Iāve seen you do it before.ā
Cassian had dared to hope that the contact would pull her attention back to him, but it didnāt work.
So slowly, Cassian raised their hands, pressed them into his cheek.
For a fleeting second, he had her. Nestaās eyes snapped to him - to the warmth of his skin. But then they darted away, back to Tomas who was now talking on his mobile.
Nesta's grip on him tightened at the sound of her ex-boyfriendās voice, locking down so hard that Cassian knew if he were to look at their threaded fingers, theyād appear bled dry.
Hoping that Nesta was still listening, Cassian continued, āThereās a door out the back. Itās how I got in. He wonāt see you but we should go now whilst heās distracted.ā
And then Cassian took the biggest risk of all. He lifted their hands to his mouth, pressed his lips to her fingers.
Thatās what did it in the endā it was like a summoning. Nesta tore her eyes away from Tomas. It took effort, Cassian could tell because her eyes darted back and forth until finally they stayed with him. Long enough for her to confess her greatest fear around the tightness in her throat. āHe might.ā
āNot today.āĀ
Carefully, Cassian stood, ignoring the painful tweak in his knee as he did so.Ā
Tomas was still on his mobile. Somehow, he was leaning back even further in his chair, commanding the space. His voice was so loud and obnoxious that the woman at the table next to him shot him a glare.
Cassian didnāt care. Tomas was busy and that was how they wanted him.
āWeāre going to get you out of here, but I need you to get up. You can do this, ok?ā
There. A hesitation. A belief that dared to creep in through the cracks of Nestaās fear and tell her that there might be hope.
After that, the adrenaline kicked in. Nesta fumbled for her bag, her belongings. By then her hands were shaking so badly that she nearly dropped her laptop, but Cassian swooped in, swept everything into her satchel and shouldered it.Ā
āThis way,ā he coaxed, summoning every ounce of restraint not to touch the small of her back in encouragement. He had a feeling if he did that all the adrenaline coursing through her veins would make her startle.
Somehow, they made it out. The moment Cassian closed the closet door behind them, shutting out the coffee shop, he could breathe a little easier. Didnāt worry so much when Nesta stumbled over a bucket, the sound ricocheting around the storeroom as she righted herself.Ā
The fresh air that hit them as they stepped outside was bracing. It snatched the breath from their lungs. But to Cassian it tasted like nothing but relief. He barely noticed the fine fuzz of rain that immediately coated his clothing, wet his face, his hair.
And clearly neither did Nesta. For the second the back door shut behind them, Nesta met his eyes. And then, without any adieu, she bent over double and vomited onto the tarmac.
The suddenness of it all was so unexpected and so violent that Cassian moved on instinct. He forgot that he was supposed to be keeping his distance. Forgot that he was trying not to spook her.
In hindsight, during the long night that followed, Cassian replayed the following scene over and over in his head trying to make sense of it. And each time, he came to the same conclusion. Nesta - whose body was hyper-vigilant beyond belief - clocked him leaping towards her out of the corner of her eye and catalogued him as a threat.
Nesta startled like an animal running for its life, jerking away from him before he could reach her.
But whilst Cassian had paced up and down the alleyway for a good five minutes before Azriel had sent the staff member to the back door, Nesta was unacquainted with her surroundings.
Bent over double as she was, she didnāt see the wall until it was too late. Straightening and twisting away from him at the same time, Nesta collided into the pebble dash with a crack.
āShit,ā Cassian panted, eyes wide, hands up as he hastily backed away from her. āIām sorry, Nesta. I didnāt thinkāā
He abruptly stopped speaking as Nesta lurched forwards again, the movement jolting and ugly, and retched.
The acrid scent of bile mingled with the odour coming from the trash cans - old food and stale coffee and the wet mulch of cardboard intermingling with damp rain - the latter of which was coming down harder now.Ā
But now, neither of them noticed.Ā
All Cassian could think of was Nesta. He watched her straighten, her hands now clutching at her head as if that might physically hold in the shock of the collision.Ā
And all Cassian could do was stand there, his chest heaving as if heād run a marathon but the rest of him frozen in place. His palms, which had flown up on instinct when sheād thrust away from him, were still facing her, as if she had him at gunpoint.Ā
He was too scared to move, too frightened that heād do something else idiotically stupid and cause her more harm.
For a moment, they stared at one another wide-eyed. Cassian could feel his pulse hammering in his throat, trying to burst out of his skin.Ā
Nesta swiped at her mouth with the back of her shaking hand. When she dropped it from her bloodless face, her lips parted as if she were planning on speaking but then they shut again, her mouth a thin, brittle line.
He watched this happen again, then again. After the third attempt to speak, Cassian watched her give up. Watched her press the heel of her palm to the exact spot where her head had collided with the wall, her brows knitting in confusion, as if she didnāt understand where the pain had suddenly come from.
When her fingers came away, Cassian was alarmed to see that they were red.
It took everything he had not to step towards her, to see if she was ok. But he didnāt dare risk it after heād terrified her so badly.Ā
Instead, his punishment for being so idiotically stupid was to watch this play out. To watch her lower her trembling hand so it hung limply at her side and watch a trickle of blood escape down her temple.
Nesta didnāt seem aware of it. Instead, she just continued to stare at him in disbelief.
Then, her expression rippled. A tremor, violent before it was trapped and smoothed out.
A beat passed.Ā
āSorry,ā she said hoarsely - finally, when she clearly thought herself composed. But her voice wavered as she spoke, and the sound of it seemed to be the breaking point.
Cassian balled his hands to stop himself from reaching out to her. Slowly, he took a discreet step backwards, granting her more space even though all he wanted to do was to pull her to him and swathe her in his arms.
But the action didnāt go unnoticed. If anything, it was the finger on the trigger, the foundational straw pulled out from beneath her.
There was a shaky, high-pitched rush of breath, a last attempt to keep the tears at bay - but it was too late. Nestaās face crumpled and then words were toppling out between gasped sobs.
āIām sorry. I donāt know why heās here. He shouldnāt be hereāā
āI know.ā There was a crack in Cassianās voice now, a maelstrom of emotions. The aching sadness of seeing her like this, the angry truth of it all, the stark, terrible reality. And then there was the fury of his contribution to it. Him, the male he had hoped she might come to trust, ruining it all. The sound of her head hitting the concrete. āPlease. Let me take you homeāā
āIs everything ok here?ā
A voice interrupted Cassian, smooth as always and deliberately tempered down to be soft.Ā
Nesta startled anyway. She scrambled away but when she realised she was too close to the wall, she halted in her tracks, panting.
Cassian didnāt need to turn to see who it was, but when he did, his arm outstretched to tell his brother to stay put, he found Azriel in the mouth of the alleyway.Ā
In his left hand, the car keys dangled.
Azriel did not take a step forward. Instead, he kept his eyes on Cassian. Said, āTomas is still in the coffee shop, but we should make a quick exit if we want to be safe. He looked like he was readying himself to leave and Iām not sure if his car is in the parking lot.ā
Later, when Cassian was back at home he marvelled at how they managed to get Nesta into the car. He supposed the threat of her ex was enough to make someone who was currently very afraid of men shut herself into a car with two hulking ones.
Striding ahead, Cassian opened the rear door for Nesta before backing away. Heart in his mouth, he got into the passenger side, opposite Azriel at the wheel, keeping his gaze locked ahead, not wanting to spook her, not wanting her to second guess a thing.Ā
In fact, Cassian didnāt feel like he drew a breath. Not as the rear door shut, as fabric rustled, the seat belt pulled across a body, the click as Nesta buckled herself in.
Even as Azriel eased them onto the main road, the rain coming down harder now, Cassian starved his lungs of air.
But when the coffee shop disappeared from view, Cassian allowed a breath to slowly rush back in.
He turned to Azriel. āHead to the hospitalāā
āNo.ā
The response was forthright and quick while at the same time having a quiet incorporeal quality to it - as if it caught in mid-air and retracted into itself before it established itself.
Turning in his seat, Cassian looked at Nesta.
She was staring vacantly out the window, her body moving with the car as it turned in the same way
a puppet followed the command of its strings. āI donāt need a doctor.ā
āYouāre bleeding, Nesta.ā
Absently, Nesta raised a hand to her temple, stared at the red glistening on her fingertips. āItās superficial.ā
āYou donāt know that.ā
Nesta let her hand fall into her lap, discarded. āI do.ā
The seconds that followed felt as if they were swallowed by the gaping maw of silence. Two simple words threatening the imagination as it conjured images Cassian didnāt want to see. A body being thrown around, bruises and fractured ribs, a broken nose and two black eyes. Fell down the stairs, tripped over my own feet. The crack of a nose being set back into place, hiding away to protect a monster. I canāt come tonight, Iāve got a book deadline to meet. Iāll see you when I'm done.
All of it unravelling behind Cassian eyes, in his head, overtaking his senses - everything.Ā
āWhere should I drive to?ā
Azrielās voice cut through the images, abrupt, like a full stop thrown into the middle of a sentence.Ā
Cassian didnāt stop looking at Nesta. She was still staring fixedly out the window, but he could tell she wasnāt seeing anything at all. He watched her slip farther away, the distance growing and growing, a cavernous feeling, vast, empty.
He turned back in his seat. A plan was already unfolding in his mind.Ā
Cassianās hand dipped into his pocket, his fingers closing around the cool metal of his mobile.Ā
āMine.ā
***
āI need a bowl of warm water.ā
A snap punctuated the end of Morās request as she stretched the fingers of the disposable rubber glove she was fitting to her hand.Ā
The action came with the precision of someone who spent her days taking them on and off. Of the doctor who worked at the female health clinic in the less affluent districts and saw things she wished she didnāt.
There was no familiar warmth in his friendās voice as she spoke. In fact, Mor didnāt even look at Cassian. Instead, she seated herself back atop the coffee table and began to rifle through the personally engraved medical bag he, Azriel and Rhys had gifted her for Winter Solstice last year.
Opposite her, curled up small in the corner of the couch was Nesta, pale in every sense of the word. Pale in pallor, pale in expression, pale in existence - as if she was fading from the room.Ā
The distance that Cassian had felt growing between Nesta and the world had quadrupled since their car journey home. Wraith-like, Nesta had followed him into his apartment and sat mechanically onto his couch without really seeming to take any of it in. Nor had she touched the mug of chai heād left on the coffee table in front of her.
That absence, that space, had seemed to worsen since Mor had stepped through the door five minutes ago.Ā
And Cassian knew that bringing Mor into the equation was not something Nesta would take lightly. But he had been at a loss for what else to do. Nesta had refused to go to the hospital to be checked over and the only person Cassian knew could help - and who would be discreet - was his best friend.Ā
And Mor, despite her rare day off, had dropped whatever she had been doing and driven straight to him.
Ceramic clinked against the wood of the coffee table as Cassian set down the bowl beside where Mor was seated.
Mor straightened, a small pocket torch in hand.Ā
She clicked it on.
āThanks. Weāll be a few minutes.ā
It was a firm dismissal and Cassian didnāt dispute it.Ā
He had already turned to leave when Nesta spokeā
āHe can stay.ā
Slowly, Nesta slid her gaze away from the tears crying down the window pane, locked them onto Mor in a way that was both absent and wholly fixated at the same time.
Nestaās eyes were the same slate colour of the sky ā no hope of blue within them.Ā
Mor simply stared back, unfazed, undeterred - strong. āWhen Iāve performed the initial examination he can come back in. But not until then.ā
āNo.ā
One word. Simple. Defiant despite the disembodied quality to it. The most emotion Nesta had displayed since heād found her.Ā
It was enough to tell Cassian that his Nesta was still in there fighting - even if she looked like hell.Ā
Morās lips flattened into a grim line. āThatās my policy, Iām afraidāā
āThen change it.ā
The aftermath of Nestaās order crackled with static. Like a radio before it tuned into the right station. A gear grinding into fourth.
During the whole interaction, there had been no change to Nestaās expression. It was as if her body had almost shut down, but as Mor searched it, really looked, her serious honey brown eyes scanning Nestaās face, she seemed to see something in the depths Cassian couldnāt. For she straightened, looked from Nesta to Cassian with a grim sort of understanding, before shifting her attention back to Nesta.
Mor held up a gloved hand.Ā
āFollow my finger,ā she instructed.
***
The snap of rubber and then the subsequent rustle as they nestled amongst the other discarded items in the waste paper basket signalled the end of the examination.Ā
āItās a nasty bump but it looks worse than it is,ā Mor told Nesta as she began to stow away items into the open medical bag. āNo need for stitches and no major concussion from the looks of it. But youāll have significant bruising, Iām afraid.ā
Cassian shifted on his feet from where he stood by the dining table. He had strategically positioned himself by the dining table, which had allowed himself to observe Morās assessment of Nesta without crowding the scene. But now, he was unable to stop himself from voicing one of his concerns. āAnd the vomiting? Nesta was sick right after she hit her head.ā
āAnd before.ā Nestaās reminder was scratchy and resigned, as if Cassian was fussing for nothing. She leant backwards farther into the couch, the cushions threatened to swallow her up. āI just need to sleep it off.āĀ
She tugged the blanket Cassian had draped over her knees higher over her body, towards her chin. Cassian wondered if she was consciously trying to create a barrier between her and everyone else in the room.
Cassian didnāt know what last time meant, but Mor didnāt press Nesta for more information as her head swivelled back to face her patient.
āThe vomiting is most likely from the acute shock ofāā
But Nesta wasnāt interested in hearing more. For the first time, her face showed a ripple of what she was feeling: irritation, her patience clearly as threadbare and worn as her body. āCan I sleep now?ā
Seemingly unaffected by Nestaās directness, Mor nodded. āIt will do you good. Butāā she held up a hand, as if anticipating resistance. āāyou will need to be monitored every few hours just in case you do have a light concussion. Is there anyone who can stay with you?ā
Nesta stiffened. āI live alone.ā
āEmerie? Gwyn?ā
Nestaās gaze shifted past Morās shoulder, back to the window. There was a stretched out pause as if the hypnotic stream of water falling down the glass had taken Nesta out of his moment, this room.Ā
When she spoke, her voice seemed faint, like an echo. āEmerieās on a business trip. Gwyn has her National Counselor Examination exam tomorrow.ā
Mor looked to Cassian. āAnd you?ā
āDone for the day.ā Cassian lied, watching Nestaās face closely in case it betrayed any further feeling. āNesta can stay here.ā
***
When Cassian emerged from the bedroom, Mor was waiting. Leaning against the corner of the kitchen counter, her hip propping her up, she watched him discerningly as he quietly closed the door and came to join her.
A soft rattle sounded in Cassianās ear as he flipped on the kettle switch. Turning his head, he found Mor shaking a small round bottle at him. āFound these painkillers in the bathroom cabinet. Give these to Nesta every four hours if she wants them - theyāll help with the headache until sheās feeling better.ā
Cassian arched an eyebrow but didnāt bother to berate Mor for rifling through his cabinets. Mor sometimes had a tendency to rummage around his one-bed apartment as if she lived with him, helping herself to whatever she needed. Cassian didnāt really mind. Growing up, heād never had a sibling. Heād always been a lone child.
Now, he was fortunate to have two brothers and a best friend who had eventually evolved into someone he considered to be a sister.Ā
He was never going to complain about her feeling comfortable in his home.Ā
So, instead he took the bottle from Mor and asked, āAnd the nausea?ā
āIf itās the result of physical shock, it should disappear soon. Sleep will certainly help reduce the stress and adrenaline in her body. Emotional shock can take longer.ā
Now, Morās eyes turned sharper as she moved to face him fully. Even as she feigned casual, planting her freshly manicured hands behind her on the counter and leant backwards. āNesta has had quite the day.ā
The kettle clicked off, steam rose from the beak and billowed outwards, spreading like fog. Cassian poured hot water over the tea bag, the familiar scent of green tea momentarily assaulting him.Ā
When he realised Mor was not going to continue without some sort of response, he made an acquiescent sound in the back of his throat.
āNot like Nesta to get into an accident like that,ā Mor continued carefully. āSheās always so composed.ā
At that, Cassian turned his head and simply looked at his friend, not speaking. Steam rose between them from his mug. It felt damp on Cassianās face, but he didnāt blink. He knew what Mor was trying to get at. Had been well aware that when heād called her over here that sheād know something was up. That, even as she was trod carefully, that this wouldnāt be a subject sheād let lie.
āCassian,ā Mor tried again, her voice low now, ādoes Nesta need to report someone for the bump on her head? I see it all the time at the clinic and the shock sheās in goes beyond physical.ā
The gentle clunk as Cassian set down his mug was enough to disrupt Mor. āNot unless you want to report me.ā
Mor grew very still. āWhat are you talking about?ā
āShe was scared and I startled her.ā Cassian hadnāt planned to confess this - and he still would never betray Nesta by mentioning Tomas - but the guilt that had been rotting inside of him since the incident in the alleyway was now pouring out of him. He couldnāt stop it.The responsibility of causing her more harm when he had supposed to be rescuing her.Ā
Scrubbing the heel of his palm hard into his forehead as if that might rid the headache of the utter shit show that had been today, he continued, āIt was so stupid of me, Mor. So stupid. She threw up and it was so sudden that my head just emptied of sense. Instinct overtook me. I moved towards her, to help or to comfort her, I donāt know and she bolted. Ran headfirst into a wall trying to get away from me.ā
There was a careful look to Mor now. The frown that had been marring her forehead whilst he spoke evened back out. But Cassian knew her well enough to see the thoughts sliding behind her irises as she tried to connect the dots. āYou didnāt scare her initially.ā
āNo.ā
There was a brief pause whilst Mor processed the information. Then, she stepped towards him sombre-faced and slipped her hands around his waist. She hugged him tight. She smelt like she always did ā of cinnamon and citrus, of home.Ā
āDonāt punish yourself too harshly. It was a mistake.ā
Morās voice was muffled, almost swallowed by his jacket.
Clenching his jaw, Cassian rested his chin atop her head. āI made things worse.ā
Pulling back to examine his face, Mor kept her arms looped around his waist. āBut your intentions were good. You are good, Cassian.ā
Cassian just clenched his jaw.
āAre you going to be ok?ā Mor asked after a beat. When he didnāt reply, she gave him a final squeeze and, minding the mug of boiling water he still held in one hand, extracted herself. āSilly question, I suppose. Want me to stay?ā
āNo, I wonāt be much company. Plus,ā he continued, raising an eyebrow at her subtly elevated outfit that sat just above casual and the undulating waves of her freshly-washed hair that Cassian knew had been painfully crafted in front of a mirror, āit looks like Iāve already interrupted your plans for today. Are we dating again?ā
Rolling her eyes, Mor hefted her doctorās bag off the counter and onto her shoulder. āCall me if you need me. Iāll be at home anyway.ā
āThanks.ā Deciding not to press her for more details, Cassian trailed his friend to the door. āI think it goes without saying that I owe you.āĀ
But Mor just turned. Gripped Cassianās shoulders until he met her eyes. āFriends donāt owe one another, Cass. Ring if you need me, ok?ā
***
Despite the gravity of the day, time continued to pass - albeit slowly, torturously.Ā
Nesta slept and Cassian worked from the dining table in the living room, trying to work but ultimately failing, his eyes more often than not trained on the bedroom door.Ā
Heād pushed it ajar as soon as Mor had left, unable to stop worrying that something could happen to Nesta and he might miss it.
Cassian knew he was overreacting and if Nesta hadnāt been so scared of him earlier, so on edge, he might have worked from the armchair in the bedroom itself.Ā
But the dining table had to do. From his vantage point, Cassian could just make out the curled up figure beneath his duvet, the shadowy tangle of hair draped across his pillow.
And it wasnāt like he hadnāt been instructed to check in on Nesta every few hours. To ask her mundane questions like: Whatās your name? Where are you? What day and year is it? Spell āworldā backwards?Ā
But each time, when it finally came to wake Nesta, Cassian found himself full of a sort of dread that felt akin to chunks being taken out of his chest every time she opened her eyes.Ā
It was not least because the depth of Nestaās sleep was so vast and weighty that it made it hard to rouse her in a way that didnāt feel violent. But also because each time Cassian managed to haul Nesta out of it, she startled.Ā
The first time had been the worst. Cassian could have sworn that heād scented her fear before she wrangled it under a forced sort of control that did nothing to hide the panic lingering beneath it. All the while, Cassian knelt beside her as unthreateningly as possible, trying not to loom, cursing the breadth and height of his frame.
Six hours on and Nestaās reaction to him had thankfully weathered into an apprehensive wariness, as if her body and mind had anticipated what was happening in an attempt to save her from further stress. Opening her eyes, Nesta would tiredly answer whatever Cassian asked of her before she let sleep drag her back down again to its murky depths.
Nestaās fatigue was not a tiredness Cassian recognised. Instead, he had come to understand that this was Sleep. An entity that yanked at you with taloned hands, snatching you back down so body and mind could restore itself.Ā
The buzz of an incoming call pulled Cassianās attention away from the bedroom door. Quickly, he plucked the device from the table so the vibrations wouldnāt wake Nesta and took long strides down the hall.
Putting the door on latch, Cassian stepped into the hallway.
āEmerie,ā he said.
Relief surged through Cassian as Emerieās voice, complete with the soft curl of her Illyrian accent filtered down the speaker. āWhy have I got the feeling that Iām not going to like the reason why Iāve got six missed calls from you and a text to ring you as soon as I can?ā
āBecause youāre right.ā Cassian cleared his throat, readying him to elaborate, but Emerie got there first.
āIs it Tomas, Cassian?āĀ
Emerieās voice was so gentle that Cassian suddenly felt as if he might choke.
He fought the sensation, swallowed. āThere was a close encounter today,ā he admitted, and he felt the noose around his neck loosen at the confession. He might not have been able to tell Mor, but Emerie knew everything - more than him - and he hoped that she would know how to best help Nesta - even if she was currently in another state on a business trip.
Emerie remained quiet as the dayās events poured out of Cassian. But when he finished and her silence continued - the faint sound of traffic in the background the only indication that she was still with him - he began to worry.
But then Emerie sighed. It sounded sad, the noise trailing out until it hung between them. Finally, Emerie said, āThe tiredness is normal. When she left Tomas, she slept for days. The same happened after the court ruling.ā
āThatās what Mor said butāā
āMor?ā
āIāā Cassian broke off with a sigh at the high-pitched and disbelieving tone of Emerieās voice. Running his free hand exasperatedly over his face, before tugged at the knots in his hair, he said resignedly, āShe wouldnāt go to the hospital. Mor was the only person I could think of who would be discreet.ā
Emerie snorted. āAnd howād that go down with Nesta?ā
āI wouldnāt know. Badly, I suspect. Sheās barely said a word since we got her in the car.ā
A lull followed his words and Cassian gave Emerie the time she needed to ask what he knew sheād been wondering the moment heād disclosed what had happened. āDāyou think Tomas knew she was there?ā
āDidnāt seem like it. Nesta didnāt seem to think so, either. He was only a few tables ahead of her and didnāt turn round the entire time.ā
Emerie loosed a relieved breath. āWell, thatās something at least. Tomas is a manipulative, masochistic misogynist, but heās stayed away since the restraining order. He doesnāt even live in town anymore.ā
Cassian swallowed. He hadnāt known that, but he just said, āRight.ā
āI can come and get Nes tomorrow. She can stay with me for a few days, but I donāt land until ten tomorrow morningāā
āIām not trying to get rid of herāā
Emerie snorted, a faint playfulness ghosting back into her personality. āI know that, you oaf.ā
But Cassian ignored her jest. āI just thought sheād be more comfortable with you. She startles every time I have wake her and she wouldnāt let me try Gwynāā
āābecause of her exam tomorrow,ā Emerie finished.Ā
āRight,ā Cassian said again.
There was a pauseĀ
āYou ok, Cass?ā
āBesides making everything worse, you mean?ā
Emerie barked a laugh. āI sincerely doubt that.ā
āShe was bleeding from the head, Emerie. She thought I was going to hit herāā
And I teach self defence for a living. Cassian wanted to finish. He, of all people, should have know better. Heād witnessed the way his mother suffered. Had watched it all.
āWell, Tomas did - hit her, I mean.āĀ
āShe told me.ā
There was a pause as the reality of it sank in all over again. Cassian had known Tomas had beaten Nesta, of course he had, but today had made the truth of it even more harrowing - something he hadnāt thought possible.Ā
When Emerie continued, her voice rang with the confidence that came with delivering an unvarnished truth, āIf it hadnāt been you, it would have been someone else, Cassian, trust me. Iāve seen Nesta after sheās had an encounter with Tomas. Everything becomes a threat, even things that donāt exist. Once, Gwyn took Nesta by surprise as she came out the bathroom and Nesta threw her mobile at Gwynās head.ā
āIāā Cassian began but he broke off, not sure how to continue. Finally, he found his voice, āWill you tell Nesta youāll be coming or shall I?ā
āIāll tell her, but Iād mention it as well when you can. Her memory gets patchy when sheās been through something like this - best to repeat it until you know itās sunk in.ā
āOk.ā
As if sensing Cassianās discomfort, Emerie added candidly, āLook, what Nesta needs right now is not to be in an empty apartment - which you have covered. If she wants to stay with you when she wakes up rather than go back to her apartment - which I doubt is going to be a no, by the way - let her stay. And whatever you do, try not to scare her. No creeping up on her, ok?ā
āOk,ā Cassian repeated. And then again, as if he reassuring himself. āOk.ā
āGood,ā Emerie said. āSee you tomorrow, Cass.āĀ
So, with a pep talk tight under his belt, Cassian hung up and returned to the apartment.Ā
Sat down in front of his laptop, not seeing, not doing and waited.Ā
***
When Nesta finally emerged from Cassianās bedroom, it was late. Cassian was still sat at the table staring mindlessly at the rota on the screen, which remained unconquered.
At first, Nesta was so quiet he didnāt notice her. But then there was a movement in the corner of his eye, a whisper and sigh of fabric and then Cassian only saw her.
It was a cruel irony, Cassian thought, that he had been waiting for Nesta to emerge this entire time. But now she was standing in the doorway that connected his bedroom to the living room, her hair mussed and pillow creases imprinted into her cheek, Cassian found that he wasnāt prepared at all.
It took Cassian a moment to recover his voice. And when he did, it came across too rough, too abrasive from lack of use.
āHey.ā He caught his wince a fraction too late, but he cleared his throat gently in a bid to disguise it. āHow are you feeling?ā
Nesta swayed a little in response, throwing out a hand to right herself against the doorjamb just in time. Cassian did his best to remember Emerieās parting instruction: slow, purposeful movements.Ā
Essentially, under no circumstance was he to jump across the room to Nestaās aid only to startle her all over again.
What Cassian really wanted to do was walk over to her. Raise his fingers to her face, touch her skin, check she was actually there, blood pulsing slowly through her body, warming her skin, rather than a spectral manifestation.
Scrounging up every inch of his willpower, Cassian remained seated. Watched her instead and tried not just to conjure the illusion of calm but feel it too ā a place of safety where Nesta could come back to herself.Ā
āI feel like Iāve been asleep a long time,ā Nesta replied hoarsely - distantly. Evading his gaze, she cast a look to the dark windows, to the night sky and the grey blanket of clouds blotting out the stars. āCan I useāā
āThe bathroom?ā Cassian interjected smoothly. āTowards the front door on the left.ā
Cassian tracked her every step as she made her way up the hall. Usually, Nesta floated in a way that was purposefully untouchable. But now, she seemed untethered and unstable, as if she didnāt have control of her body.
It was a while until Nesta emerged again. In that time, Cassian tried to suppress his worry by busying himself in the kitchen.Ā
The hot water was running when he finally heard the lock turn, the door creak open.Ā
Purposefully, Cassian did not turn. Instead, he carried on with what he was doing. Plunged his hands into the suds in the sink and began to wash the dishes, purposefully ensuring they clinked softly together so Nesta could guess his location.Ā
āWhat time is it?āĀ
Nestaās voice emerged from somewhere behind him. Slowly, Cassian turned his head to glance over his shoulder and there she was, the kitchen counter safely between them, her skin as cool as the moonlight lancing through the window.Ā
āJust gone midnight.ā
This elicited a blink and a tiny frown that Nesta kneaded with the crook of a finger before retracting it with a wince. āI didnāt realise Iād slept that long.ā
She didnāt elaborate but Cassian read it for what it was: an apology for what she viewed as imposing. āItās good. You clearly needed it.ā
Unhurriedly, Cassian reached for a dishcloth to dry his hands. When he turned to look at Nesta properly, he was careful to modulate the speed of his movements.Ā
What he was not expecting, was for everything to shatter. But it did. The instant their gaze connected and Cassian saw the vacancy in her eyes, whatever he and Nesta had been trying to be, broke away, unravelling until it was nothing.
It felt like a hand was fisting at Cassianās intestines, twisting tighter and tighter as they continued to look at one another.
And the more they looked, the more Cassian knew with devastating surety, that this was not their time.
Nesta didnāt need a love interest. What she needed was support. For the people around her not to terrify her so much that she ended up causing herself further harm.Ā
Cassian swallowed in a bid to rid himself of the lump in his throat.Ā
Between them, the silence stretched, almost mesmeric in its intensity.Ā
There was so much Cassian wanted to say, but he realised that what he really needed to do was to not say anything of consequence at all.
The only thing that mattered was that Nesta was going to be ok. That she was here and breathing. And hopefully, in time, she would heal again.Ā
And in the meantime, Cassian would be here if she needed him.Ā
It took everything in Cassian to feign casual. It felt like shards of glass had taken up residence in his throat, cutting every time as he spoke. āWant some chai?ā
It was not what Nesta had been expecting him to say and Cassian had known that. The surprise of it dragged her back to him, the smallest of lights flickered faintly in the depths of her eyes, cracking through the trauma. āChai?ā
Cassian nodded to the saucepan atop the stove. āI made a fresh batch earlier. Thought you might want some when you woke up.ā
Nestaās eyes followed him as he slowly went through the motions of pouring two cups, using a sieve to catch the cinnamon sticks, the star anise, the cloves.Ā
When he was done, Cassian slid the mug across the counter to her, careful to keep his distance.Ā
Together, they drank. Neither of them broke the spell of silence between them, not until Nestaās mug had been drained to the dregs.Ā
Then, Cassian dared to ask, āAre you hungry?ā
An answering grimace.Ā
Cassian made the corner of his mouth tug up into a smile. āNo appetite of a baby dinosaur today, then?ā
No reaction ā nothing. Nesta just watched him, the grimace fading away until her expression was yet again vacant.Ā
āYou look like you could still use some sleep,ā Cassian told her carefully. āWhy donāt you go back to bed.ā
The alarm that fissured through Nestaās expression took Cassian by surprise. Her gaze snapped to his and every muscle in her body pulled taut. Suddenly, miraculously, and to his surprise, Nesta was fully present. āWhere will you be?ā
āThe couch pulls out.ā
The tension that had come so suddenly to Nestaās shoulders unspooled slightly, but she didnāt say anything.
Cassian pretended he hadnāt detected her unease. Was she worried that heād leave or that heād be around the apartment whilst she slept? Did he make her uncomfortable? Did she think heād insist on sleeping in his bed with her?
Not for the first time, Cassian felt horribly out of depth. But he tried to continue as normal, tried toĀ get her to engage with him. āWant something comfy to wear?ā
Nesta fisted the sleeves of her jumper.Ā
āThere are t-shirts in the second drawer down if you do,ā Cassian continued. āToiletries are in the cabinet beneath the bathroom sink or the one above it - a new toothbrush, toothpaste. Take what you need, ok?ā
Later - eventually - when Cassian slept, there was no escaping the day. He relived it all - yet another awful nightmare. Nestaās bloodless face, her vice-like grip on his fingers. The sound her body made as she struck the wall. Her wide, terrified eyes. The blood glistening on her fingers.Ā
When Cassian woke the next morning, he didnāt need a moment to remember why he was sleeping on the pull out couch.Ā
And he certainly didnāt need to remind himself that the secret hope heād been harbouring, the foolish optimism that he and Nesta might still be something, had been thoroughly stamped out.Ā
Tags (let me know if you want to be added/removed): @arinbelle @superspiritfestival @sayosdreams @perseusannabeth @mylittlebigplanet @biggestwingspan-az @bellsqueen @ekaterinakostrova @bookstantrash @prophecyerised @rainbowcheetah512 @wannawriteyouabook @lovelynesta @melphss @a-trifling-matter @thalia-2-rose @champanheandluxxury @swankii-art-teacher @lavendergoomsltd @princessofmerchants-reads @imwritingthesewords @nestable @inejbrekkxr @silvernesta @amelie775 @helen-the-weirdo @pizzaneverdisappoints @wishfulimaginings @trash-for-nessian @my-fan-side
















