Skye’s parents shared a long, silent look and then her mother nodded resolutely and crouched to pull something out of one of the cabinets, while her father rested a hand on Zac’s forearm. 

“I think you’ve both had a rough time,” Professor Rowan said gently, “We’ll hold our questions for now until we’ve got you both patched up.”

“Thank you, Professor,” Zac said with feeling. 

He knew these people deserved answers, but he just didn’t have the energy. It was all he could do to remain vaguely upright in the chair. Skye was physically in better shape, but her arms were wrapped tight around her middle and her head was bowed so that her long, white hair obscured her features. 

“Call me Brett,” Professor Rowan said. “I don’t think you’ve ever met Rose, here.”

He hadn’t really thought about it, but of course the professor had a given name. He supposed that formality was a little silly after everything.

"I'm sorry to intrude, ma'am," Zac said. "But it's nice to meet you."

He tried to stand to properly greet his hostess, but she pushed him back into the seat. He saw that the item she’d been searching for was a first aid kit. 

“Just rest a little, young man,” Rose instructed. “I’m a nurse, I can help you.”

Zac nodded, trying to hide his discomfort. These were Skye’s parents. They were trying to help. 

“Let’s get a look at what we’re working with,” Rose said, “can you tell me what hurts the worst?”

“Nothing really hurts,” Zac informed her. “I mean, I’m exhausted and everything aches, but nothing specific.”

“That’s the Aspect pain blocking,” Skye piped up. “Check his back, first, I think that’s the worst. I dealt with the critical internal injuries, mostly, but there’s a lot.”

“Okay,” Rose said, moving behind Zac. “What’s all this silver paint?”

Paint? He hadn’t gotten any paint on him at any point. Had he?

“I don’t think that’s paint,” Brett said. “I think it’s blood.”

Oh, damn it. His illusions. He’d let them slip because why bother, everyone knew what he was. He hadn’t rebuilt them. Should he try? Was there any point, now that they’d seen? How much did Skye’s parents know, anyway? 

“Elves bleed silver,” Skye informed her parents like it was just a mildly useful piece of information they might need to know. Then she stepped forward. “Wait, he shouldn’t be bleeding.”

“It looks like this cut on his back tore open,” Rose reported. “What in the world? Is this super glue?”

Skye winced and ducked her head. “We had to get creative.”

“Skye’s injured as well,” Zac said, because one, she was and two, he was a little overwhelmed by all the attention on him with his illusions shattered. He needed a moment to collect himself.

“Hey, no one likes a tattletale,” Skye protested as her parents turned towards her. “I’m fine. I got a little bit stabbed but my armor caught the worst of it, see?”

She plucked at the side of her outfit. 

“What is that?” Brett asked.

“Carbon nanofiber as a base, there are armored panels too. I’m fine," Skye insisted.

Rose peered at the visible wound in her side. “I’d still like to look that over.”

“Zac needs you more. I’m okay. It’s like a scrape," Skye said.

“It should be tended, though,” Zac said.

“I’ll look after her,” Brett said. “I can clean a scrape. You help Zac.”

“Right, yes,” Rose said, turning back to Zac. So much for distracting them. 

“I’m really all right,” Zac insisted. 

“Uh huh.” Rose sounded equal parts uncertain and concerned. “What about the burns? What caused all this? It looks almost chemical.”

“Iron,” Zac muttered. “Well, steel. A table, couple gates, a bridge...” he trailed off at the silence in the room. 

“Skye,” Brett said, “please tell me someone didn’t shove this poor boy into a... a heated table? And a gate and a bridge? What the hell?”

“They might as well have,” Skye said. “Iron, and its alloys, are toxic to elves. Direct skin contact causes those burns. I think it’s a kind of allergic reaction.”

“Would antihistamine cream help?” Rose asked. “Cortisone maybe?”

“I... I’ve never tried anything like that,” Zac admitted. “I usually just clean any contact wounds and let them heal.” He paused to add, “I usually do not contact this much iron at one time.”

“I don’t think the cream can hurt him,” Skye advised. “The anti inflammatory properties should help, anyway. I tried to heal him the best I could, but, well, it’s not really my thing. You know.”

Zac figured as he was alive and mostly upright, her skills were more than sufficient. 

“All right, let’s see here. Can not stitch this closed but it needs attention,” Rose rustled through her kit and came out with a small box. “Butterflies should work. Is there anything else I should know? Any other allergies?”

Was she asking if he was allergic to butterflies?

Oh, no, those were butterfly bandages. Right.

“No, no other allergies,” Zac said. “You really don’t have to trouble yourself.”

“She kinda does,” Skye informed him. “I’m gonna have to taper off the pain blocking soon. That’s why nothing hurts.”

That was alarming.

“Wait," Zac said, "I thought you stopped. The pain blocking hurts you. Stop it now. No tapering off, just stop.”

“The shock of that could stop your heart,” Skye informed him patiently. “The adrenaline or whatever elves have in place of it ran out a while ago. I’m fine, ouch,” she jolted as her father daubed at her wounded side with a bit of antiseptic laced gauze. 

“Sorry, Sweetie,” Brett said.

And now Zac had heard Death Incarnate called Sweetie. Even an immortal life can hold surprises.

Then it was Zac’s turn to wince as Rose prodded at the wound in his back. It didn’t hurt, yet, but he could feel a tingling numbness in his limbs that he was pretty sure would turn into real pain very soon. Rose’s feather light touch already felt like someone brushing a hand against a healing sunburn and he fought not to flinch. 

“I’m going to try the cream on the worst of this,” Rose said, “if that’s okay with you, Zac?”

“Um. Sure?” Zac was trying to be polite, but he was also trying not to let anyone see just how much he was starting to hurt.

“Oh. His pulse and temperature will be lower than a human’s,” Skye added. “So don’t be alarmed. It’s normal.”

“Good to know.” Rose paused. “May I ask where you learned so much about elves?” Rose glanced down at Zac. “From you?”

Zac was quick to shake his head. Too quick; the motion sent a fresh wave of nausea and dizziness through his exhausted body.

“Don’t blame Zac, he thought I was dead until last night,” Skye said. Then, “Also he’s not gonna be upright much longer.”

Sure he was. He was fine, just exhausted and more dizzy than he’d expected to be. And yes, he could feel a lot more of his wounds than he could before. But this “tapering off” was better than the sudden cut off when Skye had been knocked unconscious earlier and should he mention that to her parents? He thought he should. Head wounds were serious. But his head didn’t hurt now, and it had when she’d been injured so maybe she had healed already?

“What happened to him?” Brett asked.

“A lot,” Skye said, which was a fairly succinct and accurate answer. Zac tried to elaborate but then Rose daubed at one of the iron burns on his wrist and it was all he could do not to blister the air with language a gentleman does not use in the presence of two ladies, one of them a child. 

“I’m sorry, I’ll be quick,” Rose promised. 

Zac nodded and tried to ignore the way the room bobbed and weaved at the motion.

Brett taped a square of gauze to Skye’s side, gently.

“Are you hurt anywhere else?” he asked her.

Skye shook her head. “No, I’m actually pretty healthy for, um.”

“For a dead girl?” Brett tried to joke.

Skye winced. “I am sorry. About that. I.” She crossed her arms across her chest. “It wasn’t safe. For you. It still isn’t.”

Zac managed to sit up enough to look at her. He needed to get up, to get to her side. She shouldn’t have to do this alone. But Rose’s hand was still on his arm and he didn’t have the strength to move her. 

“Is it because we didn’t fight hard enough, when those men came?” her father asked. “Is that why?”

“No. Dad. I.” Skye buried her face in her hands. “You were shot. You went down. I thought you were... I thought. I thought they killed you both and it was my fault. I couldn’t protect you. All my power and I couldn’t...” 

Zac struggled to stand, to go to the child and comfort her. His legs wouldn’t obey. He couldn't get out of the chair.

Fortunately, Skye’s parents were stronger. Her father wrapped her in his arms and scooped her up like she weighed nothing. Rose scurried across the room and they just held her for a moment. Zac turned away, feeling like a voyeur.

“I’ll explain everything,” Skye promised. “I’ll tell you everything. But. Zac needs help now.”

Zac tried to protest that he was fine, that all he needed was a spot to rest. 

“I thought I could taper off the pain blocking more slowly but the Aspect is worried,” Skye explained. “I think he’s going to collapse soon.”

What now? Collapse? It wasn’t that bad.

And then, suddenly, it was. The pins and needles numbness faded, and real pain took its place.

“Oh, dear,” Rose hesitated a moment and then left Skye’s side to kneel in front of Zac. She took his hand in both of hers, either offering comfort or attempting to gauge where her skills were needed most. “I don’t know... frankly we should take him to a hospital, but I imagine that’s not remotely safe. Is it?”

Zac shook his head, which made the room spin even more violently. He realized that Rose’s grip was an attempt to check his pulse without touching the burns on his wrists. 

“I’m fine,” he whispered. “Only very tired. If I could trouble you for use of your couch? Just for... an hour or so?”

Rose blinked. Stood up. Said. “No.” Ah, well. Naturally she wouldn’t want a potentially dangerous stranger in her home. It was enough kindness that she’d tried to tend his wounds. He should go. Back to campus. To his own room. Yes. How was he going to get there, though? Walking that far was just impossible. Maybe they’d give him a ride. Just to the nearest bus stop would be enough. He could manage from there. 

“Brett,” Rose said, “Make up the guest bed. Skye, I’m going to need your help. Here.”

Why was she talking about guest beds? 

Zac must have drifted again, because suddenly he was upright between Skye and her mother, most of his weight on the child’s slender form. He tried to stand under his own power. Failed. 

“Stop that,” Skye ordered. “Let us help you. If I have to carry you I will. But. The difference in our height? Fireman’s carry. You saw how well I do that.”

He had. “Poor Corey.”

“Poor Corey is right,” Skye said. “Here we are. One nice, comfy bed. Asking for an hour on our couch, like my Mom isn’t a proper Southern lady and all,” Skye muttered. “I said they’d help you. Here.” 

Something soft rushed up to meet Zac’s face. No, he’d collapsed. It was a very soft bed.

Someone pulled a quilt up to his chin. A cool hand rested on his forehead.

“Rest,” Death ordered.

He obeyed.