CHAPTER 48: TACTICAL CARE

  “Let us come with you!” Helel was already halfway out of the bed when the words left his mouth.

  Bare feet hit the infirmary floor with a soft slap that echoed louder than it should have in the open ward.

  The sound ricocheted off polished stone and warded glass as he followed after Raphael.

  The echo carried farther than intended, drawing a few glances from nearby stations.

  A healer paused mid-sterilization, eyes flicking from the instruments to Helel’s bandaged wings and then very deliberately back down again, pretending with heroic effort not to notice the patient with zero impulse control attempting to re-deploy himself.

  Helel didn’t bother looking back.

  Momentum had already decided for him.

  His spine straightened, shoulders rolling forward as if his body had accepted the plan before the conversation had even begun.

  His gait was confident, fast, just shy of reckless.

  His wings twitched.

  Not a full spread.

  Not even close.

  Just enough to betray instinct before discipline snapped the motion short.

  Feathers shuddered once, tight and irritated, then stilled again under sheer force of will.

  There was that look.

  Too bright.

  Teeth ready.

  Confidence sprinting several steps ahead of common sense.

  Forgetting, as always, that he was still very much a patient.

  “NO.” Raphael didn’t slow.

  He didn’t pivot fully or glance over his shoulder.

  He simply continued walking, long strides eating the distance between the infirmary beds and the corridor beyond.

  His coat barely shifted with motion, every line of him already committed to the next task on a mental list that did not include negotiations.

  His voice cut clean and precise, the way a scalpel did when it stopped pretending to be gentle. “You are currently patients.”

  “We can cover more ground!” Yael spoke as he moved, slipping out of stillness and closing the distance to Helel in two quiet steps.

  The echo of Raphael’s boots hadn’t even finished fading before Yael was already there, posture angled forward like sunlight just before it burned through a cloud cover.

  His hand hovered near Helel’s shoulder.

  Not restraining.

  Not yet.

  But close enough to ground if necessary.

  A quiet presence.

  A stabilizing one.

  Support without force.

  Helel latched onto the proximity immediately, leaning half a step closer like gravity itself had shifted in his favor.

  He nodded emphatically, wings giving a restrained flick he didn’t quite suppress.

  “Yeah!” Helel added, jerking his arm vaguely back toward the empty infirmary bed. “Yael would know her best!”

  Raphael stopped.

  Not abruptly.

  Intentionally.

  The halt itself carried command, the way silence sometimes did when it landed just right.

  He turned then, finally, eyes sweeping over them in a single efficient pass that missed nothing.

  Bandages, still fresh beneath Helel’s borrowed tunic.

  The subtle strain in his wings where the membrane pulled just a fraction too tight.

  The faint tremor in his stance that hadn’t been there an hour ago.

  Yael’s weight pitched forward, muscles primed to move whether permission was granted or not, attention split between Raphael and the absence they were all pretending not to feel.

  Raphael’s irritation didn’t flare.

  It compressed.

  “… Fine.” He said at last.

  Both brothers stilled.

  Surprise flickered across their faces before either could mask it, the word clearly not what they had expected.

  Relief followed a heartbeat later, too fast to hide completely.

  “You each bring a Healer.” Raphael continued, already recalibrating his grip on the tether as it flickered faintly into visibility between his fingers. “You do not run. You do not engage.”

  His gaze locked onto Helel.

  Raphael raised one finger.

  Singular.

  Unmistakable.

  “And you.” He added, voice dropping by a fraction. “Do not improvise.”

  Helel opened his mouth.

  Raphael didn’t look away.

  Helel closed it again.

  Raphael turned and walked, the matter settled by motion alone.

  The moment passed.

  Behind him, Helel exhaled through his nose and rolled his shoulders once.

  Like he was resetting himself.

  His lips twitched despite everything.

  “Wow, Raphael.” He muttered. “Love the trust.”

  Yael didn’t answer.

  His eyes stayed on the empty bed they’d just left behind.

  The sheets were still rumpled, the faint imprint of a body that should have been there pressing into the mattress like a quiet accusation.

  Something was wrong.

  They all felt it.

  —

  “Why can’t she try to escape after she’s stitched up and cleared to actually run around?” Raphael muttered under his breath as he moved, irritation wound tight with exhaustion.

  Not anger.

  Worse.

  The kind that came from something slipping through a system that was not supposed to fail.

  The corridor stretched long and pale ahead of him, gold inlays catching the infirmary lights as night staff moved through their routines.

  Healers crossed paths with practiced efficiency, murmured updates passing between them like quiet currents.

  A pair of junior healers stood beside a diagnostic alcove, one gesturing animatedly at a floating chart until he noticed Raphael approaching and snapped to attention mid-sentence.

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  A patient shuffled past with a sentinel, complaining under his breath about dignity, joints, and the injustice of being escorted while conscious.

  Somewhere deeper in the ward, a monitor chimed steadily.

  Familiar.

  Reassuring.

  Easy to ignore until it stopped.

  Raphael barely registered any of it.

  The tether unfolded in his awareness.

  Distance. Direction. Vitals.

  Too even.

  He slowed half a step.

  “That’s not right… How?” Raphael murmured, more to himself than anyone else, eyes narrowing slightly. “Is she making it do that?”

  No spike. No scatter.

  Just movement.

  Slow. Steady.

  Intentional.

  His fingers flexed unconsciously, like touching the data might force it to confess.

  Containment protocols surfaced, then fell away just as fast.

  He didn’t need them yet.

  She’d finally made her move.

  Everything Suryel’s actions said she would.

  The way her gaze mapped exits without ever appearing to look at them.

  Humor layered over something feral and survival-honed, sharp enough to cut through rules if given room.

  The careful testing—

  Then he saw her.

  Barefoot.

  Nightclothes loose on her frame, one sleeve slipping off her shoulder like she hadn’t noticed or hadn’t cared enough to fix it.

  She walked slowly, carefully, like the floor beneath her wasn’t quite solid.

  Not sneaking.

  Not hiding.

  Just moving.

  Raphael adjusted his pace, slowing to match hers from several steps back, letting his presence register without crowding.

  Her anomaly wasn’t flaring outward.

  It was folding inward.

  Compressed so densely it made the air feel thin, like pressure before a storm that refused to break.

  “Suryel!” Raphael called, voice firm and even, carrying without echo. “Let’s return to the infirmary.”

  She stopped.

  Her shoulders drew in.

  Fingers curled at her sides, nails biting faint crescents into her palms.

  “No—”

  The word fractured halfway out, breath hitching behind it.

  Raphael frowned, concern sharpening as he closed the distance by a careful step.

  “No?” He asked. “What exactly are you planning?”

  Her pulse spiked.

  Not defiance.

  Fear.

  Raphael’s gaze flicked to the readings snapping into alignment around them, the truth lining up faster than he liked.

  “You’re sleepwalking.” He said quietly.

  Then he felt it.

  Presence.

  Not force.

  Not hunger.

  Interest.

  Like fingers resting against glass.

  Raphael’s jaw tightened.

  Samael.

  He didn’t curse.

  Didn’t rush.

  He drew a slow breath, anchored his own field, and moved.

  Three strides.

  His hands landed on her shoulders, firm and deliberate, grounding her before the pull from the Dream Realm could tighten further.

  “Suryel!” Raphael snapped. “Wake up!”

  Her eyes flew open.

  She gasped, breath catching sharp as awareness slammed back into place.

  The corridor.

  The cold stone under her feet.

  His hands gripping her like she might vanish if he let go.

  Relief hit first.

  Then everything else crashed in behind it.

  Tears spilled fast and silent, tracking down her cheeks as her body folded inward.

  Her fingers twisted into his coat, clutching fabric like it was the only solid thing left in the world.

  “I’m sorry!” She choked. “I didn’t mean to! I swear I didn’t—”

  “I know.” Raphael said immediately, grip steady. “I know so breathe. I’m not angry. Not at you at least.”

  He didn’t pull away.

  One hand patted her shoulder once, then slid up and pulled her into a firm, grounding hold.

  The other moved in slow, deliberate circles between her shoulders, pressure consistent, counting her breaths with his own until the shaking eased.

  He guided her down to sit against the wall, bracing her so she wouldn’t slip.

  Around them, the infirmary adapted without fuss.

  A healer paused mid-step, assessed the scene, and redirected foot traffic with a subtle hand signal.

  Someone murmured that the missing patient had been located.

  The corridor lights dimmed by a fraction, soothing rather than alarming.

  Suryel dropped her forehead to her knees, leaning against him.

  Raphael stayed.

  She felt too light against his side.

  Like she might drift if he let her go.

  His hand tightened slightly on her shoulder.

  “These are the rules…” Raphael said when her breathing evened. “You sleep with wards. You wake me if the dreams start. You don’t wander. And you don’t push through pain just to prove something.”

  She nodded, lifting her head, her face was red, jaw tight.

  “And in return?” She asked hoarsely, flicking her eyes just enough to meet his.

  Negotiation still lived in her.

  Raphael met it without flinching.

  “Supervised walks. No more bed arrest. Wrist tag only.”

  A beat.

  “Unless you give me a reason… Otherwise.”

  She swallowed. “… Okay.”

  When she stumbled trying to stand, Raphael didn’t comment.

  He simply lifted her.

  She was asleep before her head fully settled into the pillow.

  Raphael adjusted the tether down to a simple wrist tag, its hum barely audible.

  Containment that cooperated lasted longer.

  Helel and Yael returned from the halls, breathless and keyed too high.

  They stopped at the foot of the bed when they saw her face soft within sleep.

  Raphael didn’t turn. “Bed. Both of you.”

  They went.

  Neither argued.

  —

  The days blurred into routine.

  The infirmary hummed.

  Patients rotated.

  Healers crossed paths.

  Wards hissed softly as they recalibrated.

  Suryel tested boundaries constantly.

  Fingers hovered near sigils.

  Weight shifted toward the edge of freedom.

  Pauses stretched just a second too long.

  Raphael countered without raising his voice.

  “No.”

  “Not yet.”

  “Again, and we stop.”

  A hand on her shoulder.

  Firm.

  Non-negotiable.

  Gabriel passed with supplies, slipping extra snacks onto trays without comment.

  Michael sometimes watched from across the room during visits, arms crossed, tracking both of them.

  Raphael’s fatigue crept in quietly.

  A pause before standing.

  A longer blink at the monitors.

  A shoulder roll he thought no one noticed.

  —

  The fizzy drink incident happened on a quiet afternoon.

  “Raphael?” Suryel asked, leaning her forehead against the cool edge of his desk. “Can I have something cold and sweet please? I’m parched.”

  He finished annotating a chart before reaching into the basket Gabriel had left behind.

  A label in Helel’s handwriting read: In case of Hu-angry Suryel.

  Raphael scowled. “I should confiscate his pens.”

  The cap stuck.

  He twisted harder.

  — Pop!

  Carbonation sprayed everywhere.

  Suryel blinked.

  Then laughed.

  Bright.

  Unguarded.

  Alive.

  Raphael stared at her face.

  Then to his dripping hands for a beat too long.

  She reached out to a rag and wiped the desk.

  Placed the bottle back into his palm, and smiled before she left. “Thanks, Raph!”

  He was surprised by her use of Yael’s habit of using nicknames.

  The nickname lingered after she left.

  “You’re welcome.” He replied quietly, even though she was already gone.

  That night, the infirmary felt calm.

  Too quiet.

  Raphael sat at his desk.

  Head lowered.

  Eyes closed.

  One hand still resting near the monitors.

  He let himself enjoy it.

  Just for a moment—

  Then a scream ripped through the ward.

  Raphael was already moving.

  And the night was not done yet.