Friends are the Family You Choose

 Caith found her trembling on the street. Trembling, on a hot summer evening. He didn’t know her that well, it’s only been a few strange meetings, a few instances of him being a patient and her being a healer, and a few bad jokes when they met outside. But she was like him, she was one of them, albeit much younger and, as it seemed, much more lost.

He stopped by her and she didn’t even look at him. She kept staring into the distance, somewhere towards the end of the main square.

“Hey,” he breathed softly, too afraid to touch her, “are you okay?”

Those words made her eyes snap to him. Eyes of the Nephilim couldn’t lie and all he saw in hers was pain.

“No,” she replied with a bitter smile, but seemingly couldn’t move. Her hands were still shaking, all her muscles tensed up.

“Fine, where do you live?” he asked with a serious face.

“The infirmary,” she replied through gritted teeth.

Caith frowned. “What, you really live there? I heard people saying it, but,” he joked, she didn’t laugh. Well, he tried. “Okay, I get it. Let’s go.”

It wasn’t about mistrust. It was about distance. The infirmary was just across the square. He took her around the shoulders and moved her forward. Few little steps and she was walking.

It took ages to get inside. She was fumbling with the keys until Caith finally lost his patience and took them from her, opening the door and letting them both in.

“Okay, sit,” he commanded and started looking around the neat place, searching for kettle and some tea.

She sat down on the chair by the window and looked out. Pale as a ghost, she looked even more frightened than before and her hands couldn’t keep still. Her breathing was fast and Caith started to be afraid for the state of her consciousness. Few more minutes of those shallow breaths and she’d faint.

“So…” he started. No reaction. “Were you… hurt?”

She shook her head. Suddenly, her eyes shot to the corner of the room. He looked there but saw nothing. She had to see something, though, because her face was suddenly struck by pain and she had to look down.

The silence of the room was interrupted by the kettle and Caith went on and made the tea. He wasn’t really sure what to do, what to ask. He brought the tea to her and left it on the window sill.

“You need to tell me what’s wrong so I can help you,” he said softly and squatted next to her chair.

“You can’t,” she replied with voice sterner than he’d expect. She looked out of the window once again.

“Oh, so you’re one of those,” he frowned. “The tortured pigeon destined to suffer alone for all eternity.”

She looked to him with blazing eyes. He thought he’d anger her, but there was just more pain in her face. She agreed with that?! He knew she wasn’t too old, must’ve been in her twenties. Maybe that was the problem. Too young, turned too soon, and not told what she was supposed to do with all of that inside of her. He couldn’t fully understand it, but he tried.

“Look, that’s not true and you know it. I’m here to help. I’m like you, you know I want to help.” She needed to listen to that voice inside, he needed her to trust him, but if the voice in her head was screaming back at it, arguing with her every breath and every thought the Light could bring her to, it was going to be difficult. Had she not accepted it yet? That calling inside? Or was she fighting it on purpose?

As he was squatting next to her, looking up to her face, a wall of darkness appeared right behind him. It didn’t startle her, it was a gentle transition and somehow, she must’ve known what it was. Wings, massive and black as night, shielding them from the rest of the empty room, maybe even from the rest of the world.

“What happened?”

“I just saw… someone-“

Silence. He thought she’d continue, but it just seemed to disturb her more. Was it a good idea to ask?

Yes, of course. Things need fixing, not forgetting or ignoring. He’s had many chances to learn that.

“Who was it?”

She looked like a child, tugging on her fingers, not sure what to make of all of it.

“A dead-“ she stopped, then closed her eyes. “I saw a dead person…”

“Well, so did Haley Joel Osment so you’ll have to be more specific.” Caith raised his eyebrow, not even surprised that his joke didn’t register. He had a feeling she wasn’t much of a movie fan, but a little joke could’ve helped. Instead, she just looked at him, more confused than before and he had to resist the urge to apologise.

“My mum,” she answered finally and suddenly he wasn’t sure the joke was a good idea.

“Did you see her here?”

“Yes.” He could hear tears in her voice, but none were coming.

“Are you tired? Maybe you need-“

“I don’t need sleep,” she snapped back and frowned. Her next words stung, almost like a poison. “I saw her before. After she died. I saw her and talked to her and apologised to her a million times. Am I going crazy again?!” She looked at him as if he knew the answer. Caith stood up and took a step back, her gaze fixed on him.

“I don’t know, are you?”

“Stop…”

“No, you’re not. Something happened and that brought it back. What happened outside?”

She went silent again and looked down, red hair hiding her face. Her hands were gripping the chair beneath her.

“My sister. Gone.”

He’d heard some tragic stories before, but this was getting ridiculous. How old could she be? Twenty-five?

“I’m sorry about that. And I’m sorry about the vision, but… You’ll get through it. Life is long. Your life is especially long.”

“I don’t want it to be,” she murmured and stood up with her head still down.

“Don’t make me slap you,” he replied meaning it… at least a bit serious. She looked at him and it seemed now she was angry. Good. “You’re too young to have a death wish. You’ll get yourself together, you’ll get your sister back-“

“No, I won’t. She doesn’t care. None of them care. They’re not my family anymore, they won’t ever see me or talk to me. I’m a traitor of blood and ideally, they want me dead. This is it.”

“In that case, good riddance. Tea?” He pointed towards the mug on the sill, but she didn’t look.

“How can you say that?” she whispered. Caith shuffled the wings on his back and shrugged.

“They clearly don’t want you in their lives. And, excuse me, but if they want you dead, you might as well tell me more, because it’s in my competence to deal with them.”

“They’re my family!”

“You just said that they’re not.”

“Without them, I’m… I’m-“ she couldn’t finish it and just hid her face instead.

“You’re a healer. And a really good one, might I say. You’re a… gardener, as you once said. What else?”

“Stop mocking me.” She let down her hands and turned her back to him, her arms hugging her waist. She looked awfully small and he considered hugging her, but… they didn’t know each other for that long and he wasn’t that kind of a person anyway.

“You’ll get over it. You know what they say – friends are family you get to choose. Pick good friends and it will be better than anyone who doesn’t even want you in their life.”

She stayed silent, which wasn’t optimal, but at least she wasn’t shaking anymore. Visibly sad, but at least functioning, what more could he ask for?

“How about I take you out? A glass of wine could help.”

Nothing.

“Um… whiskey?”

“I don’t drink.” Her voice was suddenly very hollow, she wanted to disappear. Maybe he should go.

“That’s okay, I’ll find something else. Drink that tea, at least. It’ll help. And don’t do anything stupid, because I will find out. And I will resurrect you. And you don’t want to face my wrath then.”

He couldn’t see it, but those words made her smile a little. Just for a second, then she heard the door close and everything was black again. It took her hours to drink that tea. Even more hours to start moving properly. She spent the night there, going home the next morning only to feed the cat. She was back an hour later, opening the infirmary as if nothing happened.

Patients kept her busy. That place would become her little sanctuary, almost a home, for a very long time afterwards, no matter how many times Caith threatened to get her drunk…