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I lashed out with my fists and legs, trying to get him to let go of me. But instead of being dropped, I felt a body slide down next to mine in the mud, and a pair of arms wrapped around me, holding me close. I kept fighting, kept struggling, but I was weak, and he was stronger than
I was.
After a moment, I realized that I wasn't being hurt, that whoever this was held me close and let me beat at him with my hands. I breathed in, and a rich, familiar scent filled my nose, penetrating the last fragments of the dream and my disjointed ride through the rapids.
I let out a breath. "Owen?" I asked in a low, tentative voice.
He drew me even closer, and I felt his hand gently slide through my tangled hair. "It's me," he whispered.
"It's me, Gin. "
I finally managed to open my eyes, and I found myself staring into his bright, beautiful, violet eyes. I reached out and traced my fingers over his face, once again trying to smooth out the worry lines that marred his rugged features. He didn't wince, and he didn't pull away, despite the fact that my fingers were as cold as bony icicles, and
I left smears of blood and mud all over him. Instead, he caught my hand in his and pressed a soft kiss to my palm, right in the middle of my spider-rune scar.
"I've got you, Gin," Owen said. "Just rest, baby. I've got you now. Nothing's going to happen to you. I swear. "
I nodded and relaxed that much more. I knew that Owen would keep his promise, just as I'd managed to keep mine to him, despite all the odds. But before I could speak, before I could thank him for coming after me, the blackness rose again in my mind, swallowing up everything else.
Things were disjointed after that.
Every time I opened my eyes, I got a flash of something different. Owen picking me up and carrying me through the woods. Taking me to some sort of sheltered, rocky outcropping. Laying me down on a sleeping bag.
Making me drink some water. Taking off my vest. carefully pulling my clothes away from where they'd stuck to my arms and legs.
He cursed. At first, I wondered why, but then I realized that he must have seen the gunshot wound in my shoulder, the burns on my body, and all the other injuries that
I'd gotten. I wanted to tell him that it was okay, that they didn't hurt too much, that I'd been through worse, but I drifted off once again.
The only things I remembered after that were the soft, soothing scent of vanilla and a few needles pricking here and there at my shoulder, arms, back, and legs. Owen must have brought some of Jo-Jo's healing ointment with him. That was the only reason I could think of why the pain of my injuries slowly lessened . . .
I don't know how much time passed before I woke up again. For a long while, I was drifting along in that peaceful blackness. Then I was snapped awake.
I was lying on my side on top of a sleeping bag. A small fire crackled in front of me, the smoke drifting above the shelf of rocks and then disappearing into the night sky. Owen sat in front of the fire, idling poking a stick into the flames. I lay there and watched the play of light and shadow on his face. He'd actually done it. He'd actually come back for me just like he said that he would.
I couldn't quite believe it, but it meant the world to me.
If it had been Finn or even Bria, I wouldn't have been so surprised. But Owen and I had been on such shaky ground lately. Still, despite everything that had happened between us, he'd come back for me. Even though it had been dangerous. Even though it would have been easier not to. Even though he could have been captured, tortured, and killed by Grimes and his men.
Despite all that, he'd still come back for me.
Owen must have sensed me staring at him, because he turned in my direction and smiled - a big, broad, beautiful smile that told me how happy he was that I was finally awake.
He started to get up and come over to me, but I waved him off.
"How are you feeling?" he asked.
I sat up and winced, as a hundred dull aches and pains shot through my body. "Like I'm a very small rabbit that's been shaken to within an inch of its life by a very large, very angry dog. Remind me never to go white-water rafting. At least, not without an actual raft. "
He laughed, and the sound wrapped around me like a warm, welcoming hug.
I stared up into the sky; it was dark, except for a smattering of stars twinkling far, far away. "What time is it?"
Owen held his watch up to the fire. "Just after midnight. "
I'd gone over the cliff sometime in the afternoon. I wondered if Grimes and his men were looking for me or if they'd assumed that I'd been dashed against the rocks and drowned in the rapids. Either way, there was nothing that I could do about it tonight.
