Guardian Angel

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Seventeen

There was a difference between witnessing Recharge and experiencing Recharge.

I had yet to experience it because my powers were still new; the well was still not fully tapped, so to speak.

But apparently now the well was not only tapped, but tapped the fuck out.

The fever hit me like a truck. My head felt like something was pounding from the inside, the pressure mounting into my temples and back of my neck. I could feel the sweat on my skin, a clammy combination of hot and cold, and it almost felt like someone was sitting on my chest as I wheezed with every inhale, choked and coughed on every exhale.

I could feel people moving around me.

But I couldn't see them. All I saw were blurry figures with no discernible features, really just shadowy blobs passing back and forth in front of a blurry light.

Every so often, I'd get a flicker of a nightmare through the haze. It would startle me awake in a panic and I heard it reflected in the frantic beeping of the patient monitor somewhere to my side. A blurry figure would come in, stand over me, until I passed out again.

Sometimes I woke up sobbing.

I could feel the screams tearing through my throat until I was hoarse, and felt the aching puffiness of my swollen eyes. Those times, I could feel people in the room with me. I could feel someone stroking the hair back from my face, someone rubbing a cloth against my nose, someone gripping my hand.

Strangely, for once, I didn't feel lonely.

Terrified, because I knew they weren't just nightmares. Logically, I knew it was repressed memories, slipping through the cracks of whatever fucking tricks Aric had pulled on me.

But I wasn't lonely.

Every time I woke up, someone was there to hold my hand or stroke my hair.

It felt so nice. I wondered if it was a dream.

Such a nice dream...

A slow sigh escaped my lips and I blinked.

I found myself staring out over the porch of that cute beachside cottage.

The sun was rising over the ocean, the sky peachy and cool, clouds seeping in wispy layers overhead. It was so beautiful. So fresh and crisp and clear. I inhaled deep, relieved to finally get a gulp of fresh clean air into my lungs.

What was this?

"The least I can do." I blinked and turned to see D'Angelo sitting in the chair on the other side of the small porch. I stared at him, briefly confused, but not really bothered by his strange statement. I felt so calm and relaxed.

"Are you doing this?" I murmured, reaching up to touch my cheek. It felt so soft and warm. It was almost like the air around me was vibrating.

"Yeah," D'Angelo said quietly, making me tilt my head curiously and the movement almost had me toppling out of my chair, "Hey, don't!" He shot from his spot in the chair, catching me by the shoulders and gently lowering me back into the seat so I was looking up at him and he stared down at me, leaning over me with his hands still gripping my shoulders.

"Goddamn it," he whispered and I frowned.

"D'Angelo?" I asked. Despite the confusion and brewing frustration with his ambiguity, my voice certainly didn't convey that. I sounded tired. Soft. Relaxed. I couldn't muster up strength in my body. I was struggling to sort through the sensations conflicting with my emotions.