The infirmary was too bright.
That was Thorn's first thought when consciousness dragged her upward like a reluctant swimmer breaking the surface. Every inch burned with harsh white light, reflecting off the polished floors and glass cabinets full of tinctures.
Her second thought was worse:
She was starving.
That hollow, bone-deep ache sat behind her ribs, scraping like an empty stomach made of knives. Healing Xavier had wrung every reserve out of her. Even the reserves she wasn't supposed to have, the ones she secretly kept for herself. Her shadows had disappeared, coiled under the beds and hidden behind medicine cabinets.
Someone had tucked her into a narrow bed, though she was still in her dress. Wrapped under sterile sheets and a scratchy blanket. No windows, so she couldn't tell what time of day it was.
A tube ran into her arm, leading to one of the synthetic blood pouches hanging from a silver hook overhead.
Pink tab.
Of course.
Reichenbach's way of saying: We'll feed you… But just enough that you don't become dangerous, because even though we've been around for hundreds of years, none of us know exactly what you are.
Thorn swallowed, throat dry, and lifted the pouch slightly. She furrowed her brows, restraining herself from throwing the damn thing across the room.
It tasted like chalk and iron and lies. Nothing like real blood. Nothing like the nutrients she so desperately needed. But Thorn forced herself to put it back down anyway, because she didn't know if Xavier would wake up needing her again.
That thought, that hot, too-loud thought, punched through her chest hard enough that she had to grip the bed rail.
Xavier.
Thorn snapped her head to the side, eyes searching the room for him. Luckily, she didn't have to look far as she noticed him lying in the bed beside hers.
His mask was gone. His forest green shirt was cut away and replaced with a hospital gown. Bandages wrapped around his shoulder, stained faintly pink where Thorn's healing magic hadn't reached. His breathing was slow.
Steady. But shallow, like every inhale hurt.
His hair was brushed off his forehead in a way that meant someone else had done it. A nurse, probably.
He looked young like this.
Defenseless and human.
She pulled her knees up to her chest and hugged them lightly, the IV tugging faintly at her arm. Thorn couldn't help the soft sigh that fell from her lips.
"At least you're alive," she whispered to herself, chin resting on her knee. "I'd kill you if you died on me."
Without warning, the door opened to reveal a nurse with a clipboard.
Thorn jolted slightly, still on edge. The nurse stepped inside, closing the door behind her with a soft click. She wore the white-and-gold nurses' uniform, gloves pristine, hair pinned in a bun that had never known a loose strand in its life. Her eyes flicked from Thorn's monitor to the blood bag hanging overhead.
"Ms. Rosales," she repeated, stepping closer. "Good. You've regained consciousness."
Thorn forced herself to sit a little straighter, though her limbs trembled at the effort. The nurse didn't miss it; her brows pinched slightly as she read the vitals off the enchanted slate in her hand.
"Your pulse is irregular. Blood pressure is low. And your platelet count is…" She stopped, lips thinning. "Significantly below acceptable thresholds."
Thorn snorted under her breath. "Shocker."
The nurse ignored the sarcasm as she scribbled something on her clipboard, flipping through the pages.
"You are presenting clear signs of acute magical exhaustion," she continued clinically. "Combined with, unsurprisingly, malnourishment."
Thorn's jaw tightened as she turned her head. She could barely keep the urge to roll her eyes at bay, so she darted them to the floor instead.
"Wow," she said flatly. "A groundbreaking revelation, truly."
This time, the nurse did look at her, and for a split second, Thorn saw something like pity. Or frustration. Probably both.
"You burned a lot of energy," the nurse said quietly.
"So the solution was to give me this?" she interrupted sharply, gesturing to the synthetic pouch.
"Yes," the nurse said. "You needed immediate replenishment."
"You know it's barely doing anything."
"It's doing enough to stabilize you."
"Enough for who?" Thorn challenged. "For you? For Maren? For Reichenbach's peace of mind? Keep the little freak hybrid on a leash?"
The nurse exhaled slowly, pressing fingers to the bridge of her nose as though warding off a headache.
"Ms. Rosales, please. There are policies in place for a reason."
"Yeah," Thorn said. "To keep me weak."
The nurse didn't deny it.
Instead, she glanced back at the bag, then at Thorn's drawn, faintly ashen skin. She pressed the clipboard against her chest.
"I'll request a supplemental pouch," she said. "Your levels are too low."
Thorn's eyes sharpened. "If it's not real blood, don't bother."
The nurse's jaw tightened. She closed her clipboard with a soft snap.
"Ms. Rosales," she said, and her tone shifted. Still gentle, but unyielding. "You know the rules, and as much as I would like to, I can't just give you something you are not allowed to have."
Thorn's shoulders sagged, a bitter laugh scraping her throat.
"Right. Of course. Heaven forbid the monster gets a drop of nourishment that isn't powdered and rehydrated in a lab."
The nurse didn't argue. She stepped toward the rack, adjusting the IV flow with a careful twist.
The room settled back into its too-bright stillness, the only sound the steady, artificial drip of synthetic blood easing down the IV line. Thorn barely felt it entering her veins; it was like her body refused to acknowledge something so watered down, so wrong.
Her eyes drifted back to Xavier.
Even unconscious, he looked like he was trying to hold himself together. His brows were drawn faintly inward. His breaths too shallow. His fingers curled weakly against the blanket, as if gripping the last thread of consciousness he'd fought to keep for her.
The nurse finished adjusting the flow on Thorn's IV, then hesitated, just long enough to show she was choosing her words.
"If it makes any difference," she said softly, "you saved his life."
Thorn's throat bobbed. The burn behind her eyes sharpened.
"Yeah," she murmured, voice low and rough. "I noticed."
The nurse nodded once, turning toward the door. Her hand paused on the frame, fingers tightening as though she wanted to say more but wasn't allowed to.
"I really am sorry, Ms. Rosales… about all of it."
Thorn didn't look at her. Didn't trust her own face.
"Whatever," she muttered, dragging the back of her hand across her eyes before anything could fall.
A soft, reluctant exhale came from the nurse before the door clicked shut behind her.
Silence swept back into the room, thin and clinical.
Thorn sagged against the stiff infirmary pillow, exhaustion seeping through every bone.
"Fuck," she breathed out, the word cracking around the edges.
Her gaze drifted to Xavier again, and she didn't realize she'd been staring at him for a while until he moved.
It was small, just the twitch of a finger across the sheets, but Thorn shot upright instantly, IV line pulling taut. Her brows shot up, knees digging into her bed as she leaned in as much as she could.
"Xavier?"
His brow furrowed faintly, a tiny crease forming between his eyebrows. His breathing changed slightly, a shallow hitch, an instinctive wince.
"Xavier," she said again, quieter this time. Like the sound itself was fragile.
His eyes didn't open yet, but his lips parted on a raw whisper.
"…Thorn…?"
Her lungs seized.
She swung her legs over the side of the bed, ignoring the way her body trembled from weakness. She planted her feet on the cold tile and steadied herself on the rail before stepping the two short feet between them, pulling the IV stand with her.
She reached his bedside just as his eyes blinked open.
Hazel. Unfocused. Searching.
Then, he found her, and relief shattered across his face so completely it hurt to look at.
"Hey," she whispered, fingers stretched out to touch him before she pulled back, "You're awake."
His throat bobbed, and her hand fell almost instantly.
"You're… okay?" he rasped, voice rough, like speaking scraped. "I saw you fall back against the floor in The Great Hall, and I... I couldn't do anything to help."
Typical Xavier.
He almost died, and the first words out of his mouth were about her.
Thorn swallowed hard. "I'm fine."
A classic lie.
Her body was shaking. She felt cold all the way through, but she wasn't about to admit that to him, not after everything.
Xavier blinked slowly, eyes dragging downward over her form. The IV, the sickly greyness of her skin, the tremor in her jaw.
His brow knit.
"No, you're not."
His voice was quiet, but sure.
Thorn looked away, biting the inside of her cheek.
"You shouldn't be talking," she muttered. "You took a chandelier to the side."
"Yeah, and you took… everything else."
She froze.
He wasn't looking at the bandages around his shoulder or the faint healing marks on his skin. He was looking at her hand, the one she had sliced open while pulling glass out of him. The one she had healed too slowly.
The one is still faintly pink from the strain.
His eyes flicked up to hers.
"You healed me."
It wasn't a question or a whisper of disbelief, just a realization spoken like it knocked the breath out of him.
Thorn's stomach dropped.
"You weren't supposed to know that," she said under her breath.
He swallowed again, breath uneven.
"I felt it. It was like this... warm sensation spread all throughout my body. Like sitting close to a fireplace."
His eyes softened, hazel melting into something warm and terrified all at once.
"Thorn… you almost died."
"So did you," she shot back.
"Because I was trying to protect you," he whispered.
Her voice cracked.
"Yeah, I didn't ask you to."
"I know." His eyes glistened. "I know you didn't. I just couldn't let you get hurt."
Thorn's throat closed around something sharp. Her vision blurred for half a second. Either from exhaustion or emotion, she couldn't tell.
She gripped the rail of his bed.
"You made me think you were dead." She tried to keep the normal amount of venom behind her voice, but it fell flat almost instantly.
"And you passed out in front of me," he murmured weakly. "I think you win that one."
Despite everything. Despite the blood, the fear, the hollow ache inside her, a tiny, breathless laugh pushed out of her.
He watched that laugh like it was the only beautiful thing in the room.
"I told you… You aren't a monster."
Thorn shut her eyes for a moment. Just long enough to feel the weight of that truth, terrifying and gentle, settle in her chest.
When she opened them again, Xavier was still watching her.
He was still here and still alive.
And that was all that seemed to matter.
Thorn exhaled slowly and let her hand slide from the rail to rest lightly against the edge of his mattress. Not touching him, but close. Close enough that she could feel the faint heat radiating from his skin. Close enough that if she leaned forward another inch, she'd fall into whatever this was becoming.
Neither of them spoke, but the air held the silence gently.
Just as Thorn turned to sit back down on her bed, the infirmary door slammed open so hard it ricocheted off the stopper. Thorn nearly jumped out of her skin. Xavier flinched, a hiss slipping between his teeth as the motion tugged at his shoulder.
"THORN ROSALES! OH MY GOD. YOU'RE AWAKE, YOU'RE ALIVE! AND XAVIER, YOU'RE—EW,"
Pippa was a hurricane.
A furious, tear-streaked, frizzy-haired hurricane who launched herself across the room before the startled nurse at the desk could blink or ask her to sign in for visitation.
"Pippa..." Thorn tried, but it was too late.
The girl practically crashed into her, arms wrapping around Thorn's neck with enough force to yank the IV stand sideways. Thorn flinched and wheezed as Pippa squeezed the life out of her, talking so fast the words blurred into one another.
"I thought you were both DEAD! Do you KNOW what that looked like? You were on the floor and completely unconscious. Oh my God, Thorn, don't you ever, ever, EVER do that to me again!"
Thorn choked on a breath, half laughing, half suffocating.
"Pip—air—air would be great—"
Pippa pulled back, wiping her face aggressively with the sleeve of her sweater before whirling toward Xavier.
"And YOU," she said, pointing at him like a death sentence.
Xavier blinked, startled. "…me?"
"What was that?" Pippa demanded, gesturing sharply with her hands. "Jumping in front of Thorn like some tragic Victorian husband?! Who told you to do that? Who told you to get STABBED, by GLASS, AT A SCHOOL DANCE?!"
"I, uh, no one?" Xavier said weakly.
"EXACTLY!"
Thorn hid her mouth behind her hand to stifle the laugh threatening to escape.
Pippa rounded back on her. "Since when can you do—" she flailed her arms in the air, "—SHADOW NINJA DEATH MAGIC?! You didn't TELL me you could do that with your shadows! You didn't tell me anything! I find out you're basically a walking eclipse by watching you DESTROY A MUSIC ENSEMBLE?!"
"I didn't destroy them," Thorn muttered.
"Oh, really?" Pippa snapped. "Because I'm pretty sure I watched five creepy freakshows in robes run for their lives! One of them screamed! Do you know how hard it is to make a cult member scream? They're MARRIED to the aesthetic!"
Thorn swallowed a smile.
Xavier, still pale and breathless, gave a tiny, pained nod. "She's… not wrong."
"Do NOT encourage her," Thorn warned.
"Don't encourage YOU," Pippa shot back, poking Thorn in the arm.
"Passing out in the middle of a dance, and then waking up like, 'Don't worry, I'm fine.'" Pippa said in a mocking tone. "Newsflash! You're NOT fine!"
"I'm fine now,"
Xavier's eyes darted toward her IV bag. "…are you?"
Pippa followed his gaze, and her face fell.
The pink-tab blend. Pippa had been the only one who knew what that meant. Being roommates with Thorn for the past three years had taught her a lot about how the institution treated her friend.
Her voice softened instantly. "Oh... they're still giving you that garbage?"
"What garbage?" Xavier asked, turning his head to the side to study the IV bag. It looked normal to him, but the way Pippa had said it made him wonder.
Thorn lifted a shoulder in a slight shrug, ignoring the question. "Yeah. You know it's the standard hybrid ration."
"That's not a ration," Pippa muttered angrily. "That's a fucking hate crime in a Capri-Sun pouch."
Thorn cracked a genuine smile at that.
Pippa saw it, sighed shakily, and crawled onto the edge of Thorn's bed without asking. Thorn sighed and joined her, Pippa wrapping an arm around her shoulders again. Gentler this time. Thorn leaned into it, exhausted enough not to pretend she didn't need it.
"You need to tell your parents," Pippa whispered between them, low enough that Xavier wouldn't hear.
"I don't want to worry them, it's just one more year anyway. I'll be fine."
Pippa gave Thorn a slight glare, clearly not agreeing with her.
"That's starting to become your catchphrase," she said softly, studying Thorn for a moment. She had bags under her eyes and soft tremors that shook her body with each breath, and Pippa knew she wasn't fine, not even close.
Pippa pushed her glasses higher up on her nose as she turned back towards Xavier.
"Anyway, you listen here, Mr. Hero Complex," she added, wiping her eyes with the heel of her palm. "If you ever, and I mean EVER, do that again, I will personally staple you to a bed."
Xavier blinked. "…that seems excessive."
"You got stabbed by flying glass," Pippa said, face twisting. "I get to be excessive."
Thorn's heart clenched because Pippa was right; they had both gotten hurt, and Pippa had been the one who saw it happen. Had been the one to watch people she cared about go down and not know if they were going to be okay.
Pippa exhaled, slumping dramatically between the two infirmary beds as if keeping both of them alive was her personal burden.
"Okay," she said. "Nobody else is allowed to almost die. I'm making that a rule."
Thorn rolled her eyes. "You can't make rules for death."
"Watch me," Pippa snapped back, punctuating it with a jab of her finger toward the ceiling, as if death itself needed the reminder.
Xavier let out a soft laugh. It scraped faintly in his throat, but it was real, warm, alive. Thorn shot him a look that hovered somewhere between exasperated and relieved, before Pippa rounded on her again with that manic, protective energy only she could pull off.
"And Danny's not allowed to die either," Pippa added, quieter now, the edge softening into something small and earnest.
Thorn pushed herself up a little, ignoring the way her muscles trembled at the effort. "How is he?" she asked, the question sharper than she meant, urgency bleeding through.
Pippa's shoulders lowered a fraction. "He's better." A small smile ghosted across her lips. "It seems the fresh air away from Reichenbach is working." She exhaled slowly, then added, "But… more wolves fell at the dance. Some fangs too."
Thorn's stomach sank. "How many?"
Pippa hesitated, just long enough for Thorn's jaw to clench.
"Three wolves are in critical condition. Two fangs are under observation."
Xavier frowned, pushing himself up a little despite the pain etched around his eyes. "The resonance must be getting stronger," he murmured, remembering what Professor Alarie had mentioned about Vampires.
Thorn stared down at her hands, now mostly steady. "They weren't ready," she whispered. "No one was."
Pippa looked at her and softened. "Hey. That wasn't on you."
Thorn said nothing.
Because wasn't it?
Wasn't everything?
Pippa sighed and sat on the edge of Thorn's bed, shoulder bumping gently into hers. "Look, we're all shaken, but everyone's talking about what you did."
Thorn stiffened. "Great."
"No, not like that." Pippa shook her head. "They saw you. Actually saw you. Not the rumors, not the whispers. You protected them, Thorn."
Xavier's gaze lifted, quiet but steady. "You saved them."
Thorn swallowed, resisting the urge to pull her knees tighter into her chest. Compliments felt like glass, beautiful but sharp enough to cut her if she held them wrong.
"Well," she muttered, eyes dropping to the thin line of healing skin on Xavier's cheek, "someone had to."
Xavier's voice softened. "It didn't have to be you. Not when they failed you over and over again."
Thorn met his eyes, and there was something in his expression that made her chest ache.
"I know," she said, softer than she meant to. "But I did anyway."
Pippa blinked between them, once, twice, then narrowed her eyes with suspicion so potent it could curdle milk.
"Oh my God," she said slowly, dramatically. "Am I interrupting something?"
Thorn glared. "No. You're not."
Xavier blinked. "What?"
Pippa gasped. "I am interrupting something!"
"You're absolutely not," Thorn deadpanned.
Xavier, dazed and still medicated, muttered, "I… don't think she is?"
Thorn turned her head toward him so sharply that he immediately shut up.
Pippa beamed like she'd caught fire and decided to throw herself into it on purpose.
"Oh, this is way better than the sirens gossiping," she said. "Continue. Pretend I'm not even here."
"Pippa," Thorn growled.
"Fine, fine," Pippa said, waving her hands. "But we're circling back to... whatever this is between you two."
Thorn groaned and buried her face in her blanket.
Xavier smiled faintly. Soft, quiet, and so achingly grateful to still be alive beside her.
And for the first time since the fight, the room didn't feel so cold.