In the Night

Everything seemed to be moving in half-speed, like a slow drizzle of molasses. Jemma could smell the harsh odor of disinfectant mingled with a too-sweet scent that was meant to cover it. It burned. People moved around her in a blur of color, chattering voices all melding into one constant buzz.

A heavy hand landed on her shoulder and she nearly crawled out of her skin as she was brought swimming back to the present. She glanced up into soft green eyes, blonde brows knit together above them.

"Jemma?" Brett murmured gently, tilting his head to peer more directly at her. He stepped in front of her, placing his hands on her shoulders. "You should go home."

Home. It wasn't home anymore. It was no longer her place of solitude. It was her torture chamber. It was Death's home now, not hers.

"You've been out of it all morning. Dr. Jacobs is worried about you. You've given three wrong diagnoses. That's not like you."

Jemma found herself nodding, the fog still in her mind. The stress had caught up to her and settled in her bones. It laid there, heavy and unwanted, pulling her down, making her weak.

Brett gave her a small smile as she agreed, "How about I come over later? I'll bring some food and we can watch a movie," he offered, squeezing her shoulders gently.

Azrael's threat rang in her ears, rattling her brain. Stop seeing him and I won't kill the poor man. Brett couldn't come over, he simply couldn't. The Reaper would kill him and she couldn't let that happen.

"Maybe some other time," she whispered, reaching up to pat his wrist before wrapping her fingers around it. She offered him a small smile, "I think I'll just go home and go to bed."

Brett nodded in agreement, "That's probably a good idea." He pulled her in for a gentle hug, pressing his lips to her forehead. Jemma closed her eyes, relishing his touch. "Take it easy," he warned, kissing the top of her head for good measure before he released her. Jemma nodded and turned to go grab her things.

She walked out to her truck, her legs feeling heavy. Settling into the driver's seat, she stared at her reflection in the rear view mirror, focused on the dark semicircles beneath her eyes, crescents that she had tried, unsuccessfully, to cover with concealer. She finally started the engine and drove the short distance to her apartment.

When she reached her front door, she hesitated, her hand on the knob. She stared at the wood blankly, wondering if Azrael would be waiting for her. Finally forcing down her fear, she stepped inside, glancing around warily.

Jemma let out a sigh of relief when she was met with an empty apartment. She headed back to her bedroom, peeling off her mint colored scrubs before pulling on a pair of black sweats and a comfortable gray t-shirt. Tugging her hair up, she rolled her dark curls into a messy bun to keep them out of her face. As she was tying the drawstring at her waist, a warm finger traced down the short length of spine from the nape of her neck to the collar of her shirt. She paused momentarily before she finished tying the laces. With a soft sigh, she finally turned to face her tormentor, fully prepared be aloof and attempt to ignore him. She stopped short when she took in Azrael's condition, a look of confusion marring her pretty face.

A long gash ran parallel to his eye brow and a thick drop of blood was moving sluggishly down his temple. He had a deep cut on the corner of his mouth and his tan cheek had a dark, slightly swollen bruise. There was dried blood just beneath one nostril and he had a nick on the bridge of his nose.

"You have blood?" was the first thing that tumbled from her lips.

Azrael rolled his crimson eyes, "I have a temperature and a beating heart, don't I?" He sighed, "Yes, it's hotter and thicker that a human's but --"

"Wouldn't it be thinner if it were hotter?"

"Are you going to question everything I say?" he countered. Jemma pursed her lips, her eyes running over the various injuries.

"Someone give you a taste of your own medicine?" she finally snickered, a smirk on her lips. She paused when he narrowed his eyes and his expression became vicious. "But I dumped hot coffee on you yesterday and you barely got wet," she barreled on, "How are you injured?"

He smiled, nodding his head, "You're sharp," he murmured, and it sounded like the vaguest compliment she'd ever received. "That's because you attempted to injure me in this realm."

Jemma frowned, trying to put the pieces together. "So disembodied souls did that to you?"

"It's complicated. Are you going to help me clean up or not?"

"Why should I?" she snapped, folding her arms across her chest.

"Because I tended to your burns yesterday."

"Which was just an excuse for you to cause me more pain."

"You don't understand--"

"You're right. I don't. Perhaps you should explain it to me," she hissed acidly, "Explain to me why you're here and why you like to hurt me and why you think it's so God damn funny when I'm scared and--"

"Take a breath, Jemma," he snapped, cutting her off. They glared at each other for a moment before she shoved past him and headed into her bathroom. She pulled out a washcloth and wet it down with warm water, turning back around. Azrael was already standing in the doorway, so she pointed toward the bathtub and he obligingly sat on the edge.

She stepped up to him, and he parted his knees to allow her to stand closer. The cocky grin he gave her made her want the shear off his head. Despite her anger, she decided to be gentle, and the look of surprise that flickered across his face was reward enough. She dabbed at the cut on his forehead, slowly removing the blood caked around it.

"Shouldn't you, I don't know, be able to heal super fast or something?" she asked lamely. The throaty chuckle he gave her was answer enough. He'd told her hardly anything about what he was and it was maddening to have to fit the puzzle together by herself. She gripped his jaw and tilted his head to the side, wiping at the wound on his lip. The only register of pain he gave her was the slight twitch of his eyelids. When she was finished cleaning off the blood, and contemplating taking it into the hospital for testing, she turned to grab an ointment, only to have Azrael grasp her hips. He slowly turned her around to face him, his face serious.

He was being surprisingly tame. Jemma was wary.

"You were gentle," he murmured, tilting his head curiously.

"Let me go," she said quietly, pushing at his wrists.

He pulled her onto his lap so that she was straddling his legs, her knees pressed against the edge of the bathtub. He was looking at her like she was the one who was the foreign creature.

"Why were you gentle?"

"Because I have a heart."

"I have a heart," he murmured.

"I don't mean the physical organ."

Speaking of, her's was pattering away like a jackhammer in her chest as she carefully examined all of his possible moves. He could turn into a horrific freak again, he could hurt her, he could kiss her. She was afraid of every one.

"Neither do I," he said quietly.

Jemma stared at him, trying to swallow the lump in her throat. He was frustratingly confusing and she was pretty certain he was screwing with her again. He always did. She expected it now.

She tensed as Azrael leaned forward and pressed his lips to the supple skin on the side of her neck. One arm coiled around her waist to hold her firmly while the other stroked down her thigh.

"Azrael, stop," she whispered, her voice small.

"Let me show you that I can, too, be gentle, Jemma," he murmured against her skin before lightly drawing her flesh between his teeth.

"There are other ways you can try and prove that, but I'm pretty sure you can't, so please just --"

He sealed his lips over hers, quelling her protests. He lightly cupped her jaw, not allowing her to pull away. Jemma shoved against his chest but he just pulled her closer, flattening her arms between them. His thumb stroked the soft flesh of her cheek, and a thrill of elation coursed through him as she slowly responded to his advances. She wriggled her arms loose and rested her hands on his shoulders. He gently pulled on her lower lip before his tongue ran over the soft flesh.

Azrael felt a warm drop of liquid on his thumb and he immediately pulled back, frowning at the teary-eyed woman. He'd made her cry. Again. He had been so gentle, though, so restrained. He was determined to prove to her that he could be tender and compassionate, yet here she was, crying again. If she trusted him, it would make telling her why he had attached himself to her a lot easier.

"Why are you crying?"

Jemma flinched slightly at his tone, shaking her head. "I-I just am," she whispered, reaching up to brush her tears away. She really was tired of her tears. They frustrated her as much as he did. She was stronger than her blubbering and she knew it, but they just seemed to be a natural reaction for her, no matter how hard she tried to put on her tough face.

"Why are you crying, Jemma?" he repeated, his words harsher this time.

"This is what you want, right? My tears? My pain? My suffering? If I give you what you want, won't you leave me alone? If I kiss you or sleep with you or whatever, won't you go away?"

Azrael frowned, shoving her away from him and standing to his full height. Jemma stumbled from the force of his action, pitching backward and hitting her head on the cabinet. She winced at the dull sound of her skull cracking against the wood. His fingers curled around her wrist and he yanked her to her feet.

Jemma avoided looking into his eyes, tripping along behind him as he drug her into her living room and nearly tossed her onto the couch, a dull throb encasing her head. Anger churned in her stomach as she pulled herself into a sitting position.

"I told you you couldn't be gentle," she hissed.

"You try my patience far too much," he growled back, perching on the coffee table in front of her.

"Why did you choose me?" she snapped, repeating her question from the previous night.

A sinister grin pulled up his lips. "You were promised to me a long time ago."

Jemma's blood ran cold at his dark voice, but she said nothing, waiting for him to elaborate.

"It's been a real pain waiting for you and an even bigger pain finding you."

She narrowed her eyes at him, gripping the edge of the couch cushion.

"You're my source of sustenance."

Her lips curled into a frown, but before she could say that she already knew that, he continued on.

"And you are the female that will bear my successor."