The God and the Healer - RP

Cora Jefferies

Lochlan



Miriam Lewis, 34. I study the doctor’s notes for only a moment before stepping in to check on the woman lying on the hospital bed before me. I’m sure she’s a stunning woman when she isn’t marred with bruises. Matted strawberry blonde hair cascades around her face, the reddish, golden hues a stark contrast against the raccoon eyes and the busted lip and the manual strangulation marks around her neck. In addition to that, she has two fractured ribs. Her husband did a number on her, not that she’ll ever admit it.

Her breathing is shallow. Can’t have that. I step inside, hold my hand beneath the sanitizer dispenser, and turn as her amber eyes follow me. “How’s the pain, Mrs. Lewis?”

Her voice is so soft, I have to strain to hear her. “Not great. It was a bad fall.”

A surge of anger rushes through me. I tamp it down and clear my throat. “I’m sure it was. Let’s up your dosage a little bit. We want you comfortable enough to breathe deeply. You don’t want pneumonia on top of everything else.”

She nods, relieved that I’ve decided not to challenge the lie. I’m sure she’s spoken to the police already. She’d have given them the same spiel when she was brought in early this morning.

“I’m leaving soon, right? My husband will be back after work.”

I nod. “Mr. Lewis is anxious to get you out of here. I’m sure he’ll take good care of you on the home front.” There’s no mistaking the sarcasm in my voice. I try to hide it, but I’ve never been all that great at keeping my composure. Like now, for instance.

Her amicable nature and her relaxed façade disappear in that instant. Eyes narrowed, she wads the sheets into her fists and glares up at me. “My husband is a good man. He’s never raised a hand to me, Miss-”

“Cora. Just Cora. And he’ll kill you one day.”

Wrong thing to say. She bristles, starts to rise before she remembers the extent of her injuries, and I press my hands to her shoulders to gently ease her down. Her pain has reached new levels. Tears stream out and over her temples, her eyelids pinched shut. Guilt consumes me.

I bite my lip and place my hand on her arm. “Mrs…” I stop myself. I refuse to call her by his name. “Miriam. Look at me.”

Her eyes shoot open at once, glistening with unshed tears, and the sadness in them crushes my chest like a ton of bricks. I don’t know how to get through to her, but I can try. Maybe I can give her one little miracle. A push in the right direction.

“You are worthy.” I put as much weight to my words as I can. I mean every ounce of it. “You don’t deserve this. You deserve so much more. You’ll find that person one day, but your husband is not it. Get out while you can.”

Before she can offer a rebuttal, my grip on her arm tightens. She throws her head back and lets out a gasp. She can feel my energy. It flows through her, mending her bones, her tissue, the dark purple bruises scattered along her battered body. Within moments, she’ll be as good as new.

I step back to catch a breath, then watch as she examines herself. Watch as the disbelief takes hold. She stares up at me, wonder in her eyes. “What did you just do to me?”

I avert my eyes and check the monitor at her bedside. “Looks like you’re healthy enough for release. Do me a favor and consider what I said.”

She isn’t dropping it. I’m barely out the door when she asks again. “What did you do to me?”

I’m not going to explain. I shouldn’t have even taken it this far. “Katie is going to take over from here,” I call out from over my shoulder, my pace quickening. “You’re in good hands.”

I can still hear her shouting as I walk away. My shift is over. I need away from this place, from the sickness, from the sadness permeating the atmosphere. I’m a nurse; I heal, and I care, but it’s suffocating.

Minutes later, I’m out of my scrubs and I’m in a tank top and a pair of leggings, my hair gathered up into a bun. I’ll hit the gym after this and work out the wishy-washy emotional bullshit the same way I always do. I’ll punch it out and run it out until my body is just as spent as my mind. Until I’m too exhausted to ponder the sad state of the universe and all the people in it.

As I exit, I pass a man in a suit worth more than my car. He’s wealthy and powerful and his presence is commanding. He’s asking about his wife, Miriam Jean Lewis. He wants to know when she’s due to be discharged. It takes all I have in me to keep on walking. I’ll only make it worse.

It was a rainy day as Lochlan stood naked in his bedroom, looking out the window. He heard a stir and could see not 1 but two beautiful women on his bed stirring in their sleep. A slight smirk, he hurries over and gives one playful smack on her ass. She giggles, the other giggles and it is a good morning for Lochlan.

Two hours later, he emerged from his room and heads into the kitchen. His mother sits drinking her coffee, children on this world lived with their parents until marriage and since no woman has caught Lochlans eye, he welcomed it.

Soon as he helps himself to breakfast, his father comes in and sets eyes on his son. Too say he looked pissed would be an understatement, "Lochlan...my office"

Both men made their way in, Lochlan kept his focus as his father stood behind his desk. The office was very modern, the desk itself had a computer touch screen.
"I just received word from sources, about your last mission...a mission you told me you had finished"

Lochlan looks at his father, "The mission where I didn't kill a child, that one?"
His father quickly comes to face him, "Do you think this is a joke? No one is laughing Lochlan, you were given direct orders...I was given direct orders and I need my armies to obey me."

"What would killing a child prove? How did anyone even find out...I hid them." Lochlan looks away in thought, making his father even angrier. "Our advisors felt it was necessary...., soldiers do not question, they do as they are told!" He screams at him.

Lochlan steps up, not scared of his father like he used to be " I don't take orders, I do what is best in the situation...that is why I am live, why the troops who come out with me are alive. When are you going to see that?"

Father just smiles, which throws his son off. He continues to laugh more, Lochlan slightly smirks back "What is so funny?"

Father finally takes his seat, looks at his son "Usually, when a soldier disobeys his command. He or she is demoted...and your demotion is really going to be a treat for you,"

"Demoted? If it doesn't involve a sword or weapon...I will pass" Lochlan says but going quiet soon after, his dad continues "You know of the healers on earth yes?"

Lochlan nods, staying silent "One apparently is not following the rules and has been messing with the order of life...she needs watching."

----------------------

Lochlan wakes up, he found himself asleep once again at his post. He watches the healer he guards again, he keeps himself hidden from her for now as she passes by, he finds himself laughing slightly knowing how much she wants to punch a patients husband.

Lochlan Cora Jefferies
Lucas Jefferies Elliot Jefferies
Ryan Jefferies Oscar

Most of the people in this gym know me by name. My brother, Luke, is a professional trainer here. He’s a bundle of inappropriate jokes and sardonic grins, and he’s got just the right personality to push a person to their limits, all topped off with the heavy accent of a lifetime New Yorker. With the same dark hair and brightly colored eyes as me and our brother, Ryan, he attracts more customers of the female persuasion, but he’s also happily married to his wife, Katherine. They have two beautiful kids, whom I adore: Jacob, seven, and Ellie, three. He’d no sooner set his sights on another woman than he would the lanky, trembling man he’s assisting on the leg press as I walk in.

“Got yourself a new victim?” I ask as I walk by, fiddling with a pair of tangled headphones.

Luke casts me a wink. “You know it, Sis. You just get off work?”

“Yep.”

Given my curt reply, he nods in understanding. “Wasn’t a good one, then?”

“Nope.”

“Fair enough.” I hear a loud grunt once I’ve stepped onto the elliptical and glance over. Luke’s client is struggling against his weights. “Come on, Paul, this is pathetic,” my brother says, slapping a beefy hand on the man’s shoulder. “My dick’s bigger than your fuckin’ thigh, pal. You knew today was leg day. Don’t puss out on me.”

I swallow my laughter and work on pushing myself. I fiddle with the buttons on the machine to increase my resistance. I hear another groan, this time after the sound of a whack. If I’m not mistaken, my brother just bitch slapped the man he’s being paid to train.

“Don’t look at my fuckin’ baby sister. Look at your chicken legs. You look like the guy off the movies with the little yellow minions. Push yourself!”

Luke turns back to me, then, after reminding Paul to keep counting his reps. “You should visit Dad. He won’t shut up about you.”

I keep one earphone in and one out, because apparently he’s in a talkative mood today. “I know. I made a casserole. I’m dropping it by tonight.” I keep pedaling, my grip tight on the bars at my sides. I push harder, sweat beading on my forehead, my heart hammering in my chest. This was just the outlet I needed. “I visit every week. He can’t be that worried.”

Luke laughs. “You’re his baby girl. He’s always worried.”

I snort. “Ryan’s a Marine stationed in the fucking Middle East. Of the three of us, I think he should be the one calling more often.”

“Ryan’s fine. He checks in. You’re a female, living alone in New York City. Plus, he’s still fucked up about Lauren.”

“I’m perfectly capable of taking care of myself. And she dated Dad for like, three months. How broken up can he be?”

Paul stops for a break. He’s wheezing, bent over with his forearms resting on his knees, his skin flushed pink. Poor guy. Luke takes advantage of the break and leans against a treadmill, too focused on me to stop and berate his client.

“He’s lonely,” my brother says, crossing his arms across his chest. “Set him up with that Susan lady from his church who’s so sweet on him. Or the neighbor, Pam. Let him know you’re okay.”

I sigh. I’m the matchmaker now? “How about this. You let me listen to music and do my thing, and I’ll set Dad up on a dating site. That’s as far as I go.”

Luke’s answering smile is salacious. I wasn’t even aware his mouth could stretch that wide. “Fuckin’ brilliant. We’ll do the account together.”

I try and fail to hide my smile. “Spunk bubble.”

He snickers. “Butt nugget.”

“Rumpleforeskin.”

“Alabama Hot Pock-” He stops himself and holds up his hands in surrender. “Know what, no. I can’t do this with you in public. Last time I called you a bitch, some bitch reported me for abusing my clientele. I don’t abuse my clientele.” Then came another whack. This time, to the back of Paul’s head. “What’d I say about ogling my fuckin’ sister? This ain’t a bar, it’s a gym. Get your ass up. I’m putting you on Jacob’s Ladder.”

Paul says his first word since I’ve come in: “Fuck.”

Another whack. “No cussin’ in front of the ladies. It’s rude.” Luke winks at me once more as Paul stands and stretches to prepare for another round of torture.

“I’m surprised you still have a job,” I call out as they make their way toward the far corner of the gym, my tone full of mirth.

“Save me some casserole” is his only reply. That and the middle finger raised behind his back.


Cora's workout song:

---

It's Dad's day off; when he answers the door, he's still holding the newspaper he's been reading. His blue eyes light up and his smile is full of warmth when he steps forward to embrace me. I give him a kiss on the cheek and steady the eggplant parmesan dish in my free hand. He smells of coffee and his favorite cologne. "Sweet pea," he says in greeting, stepping back to let me pass and taking the dish as I head toward the kitchen. "Are you well?" he asks, following my lead.

"Splendid," I answer, reaching into the cabinet to pull down two plates, then combing through the drawers for two forks and a spatula. "I thought we'd eat together."

He seems taken aback. Pleasantly surprised, more like. A pang of guilt slaps me across the face. Luke was right. Dad's more lonely than I thought, and I've been too self-absorbed to notice. "I'd like that very much, Cora. How was work?"

I can't pull one over on my dad. I've never been much of a liar, but I've never been one to talk about my emotions, either. I chew on my lip. "It wasn't the best. I healed a woman today and begged her to leave her piece of shit husband. I'm hoping she doesn't harp on about it too much. I don't need the attention."

Dad offers me a sad smile and pulls out a chair at the kitchen table for me. "You did your best, sweetheart. God gave you this gift for a reason. You shouldn't be ashamed of it."

I set down our plates a little harder than necessary and let him start cutting into the dish. "Well, I don't need to be exploited if people find out. Speaking of God, he can stop relying on me and focus on not giving kids cancer. Or, you know, cut the shit and cast all abusers to the deepest depths of Hell. That sort of thing." I throw open the door to the fridge. "Beer?"

My dad knows my take on religion. He decides not to argue that one. "Sure." Once I've sat down, he takes his own seat and digs in. "Maybe you can't heal away disease and cancer, maybe you can only fix the bones and the bruises, but you've saved so many lives. I know your job gets you down sometimes, but remember that."

I feel bad. Again. "I'm sorry. I'm being a bitch, right? It's been a long day." I take a sip of beer while my father chews thoughtfully on his dinner. I'm sure he's going to tell me everything's okay once he's finished with his bite, but I continue before things get too sappy. "Luke says you need a woman in your life."

Dad chuckles. "Does he, now?"

I shrug. "More or less. We're going to set you up on one of those dating sites."

He sets his fork down, his eyes narrowing. "I'm fine, thanks."

I grin. "Come on, you're fifty-eight years old. You're rocking the silver-haired, bearded look. You're a fireman, healthy as a horse. Don't let that go to waste."

He clears his throat and leans back, crossing his arms over his chest. "If we're talking about relationships, how about we talk about you? How long's it been?"

"Since Adam? That was last year. He cheated, I've moved on."

"Exactly," Dad says, quirking a brow at me. "You've been on the market for a year. You find yourself someone first, give me a couple grandkids, and then we'll see about my decrepit self finding a lady."

I grimace. "You have grandkids. Two whole ones. I've met them, they're fantastic."

With a laugh, he pushes away from the table. "I have room in my heart for more, trust me. Another beer?"

"Nah." I stand and take our empty plates to the sink. "I should shower and get some sleep. It's an early one tomorrow."

My dad steps forward for another embrace. This time, I let his arms swallow me whole and relish the comfort they provide. I don't need a mother. I've got all the family I need in these three men. "Take care of yourself, Dad. Don't worry about me. Love you."

He leans against the counter and offers me a smirk. "Ditto, pumpkin. Now, get the hell out."

I'm glad I came. I should stop by more often. With a laugh, I see my way out and drive back to my apartment for some rest.

---

It isn't my week. I stand over a teenager who's on the brink of death. It doesn't look good. His family is a mess in the waiting room. Apparently he'd been mugged, and because he hadn't acted quickly enough to their liking, he'd been shot for it. I can tell, by looks alone, than he won't make it unless I do something. The surgeons could only do so much. "All we can do now is pray," the doctor had told his family.

Well, I don't pray. And I can't let the kid die.

He's out cold when I grab his hand and hold it to my chest.

Healing simple cuts and bruises and fractures doesn't take much out of me. Healing someone so close to the end, however, is another thing entirely. It exhausts me. It takes more energy than I should give. I brace myself against his bed and let myself double over as I work on healing him. His eyes snap open, his irises a breathtaking silver-gray and settling on me. His chest rises and jerks, his limbs quivering as my energy seeps into him. My legs weaken and I drop to my knees. My head spins. I grab onto the railing to steady myself and watch as he rises slowly, delicately, awe and confusion in his eyes.

Before he can say a word, I force myself to rise and stagger outside.

I watch with amazement, Cora Jefferies, my latest assignment. The lengths this woman went to save someone was truly a talent, becoming a nurse was a very good cover,. Definition of a healer was her. Healers were assigned by the Gods, their simple job was to heal those humans who were broken, emotionally or physically. Their is a fine line of what is acceptable, stopping someone from passing over was breaking that line for sure.

People need to die and they need to die at the time they were supposed to or else it distruspts the order of things. Gods and worlds, this story can be a little confusing but in a nut shell, Lochlan is a soldier turned guarding of the healers and until now he hasn't had to introduce himself. He has seen many healers from all over the world known as earth, from war zones to small villages in Africa.

I watch as she changes, yes I sink to that level. I don't show myself until I wish, I am a God..I can do a lot of cool things and side note, nice tattoo on her side hip. Okay, I'll look away.

Not much longer she's left the hospital and heads over to the nearest bar, she sits at a stool and orders a shot. Taking his chance, this was the time, she needs to stop or he's not even sure, no healer has saved so many lives and still around to talk about it. He sits next to her, "I heard a young boy was on deaths door at the hospital tonight...looks like you're a doctor, good thing you were there! It's a true miracle." He smiles sincerely, she looks lazily too him before responding.

I stare at the man beside me as if I have no tact. He's gorgeous. Seems friendly. He's speaking to me. And he has a soft, husky, Irish accent.

Fuck me sideways.

I order two more shots, because I don't know how to quit while I'm ahead. Either he can take one, or I'll drink them both myself. I realize, then, that I've yet to reply to the Irishman.

I look into his eyes, a murky grayish blue, and take in his stubble, his wide shoulders, his sinewy arms and the charcoal gray t-shirt sleeves that barely accommodate them. Bet he's a good lay is all my inner whore can conjure up. It's been a while, in her defense.

"Thanks, but I'm just a nurse, Mr..." I let my sentence trail off into the unknown, much like my mind, and end it with a questioning glance, my hand hovering in the air between us for a shake.

I smirked slightly, I gently passed the second shot back to her, "I don't think my name really makes a difference and considering the trouble you're in, I think you should be the one taking this second shot." I look deep into her eyes to see if she can figure it out, " Healer..." I finally add at the end, "I am trying for a dramatic entrance, being all god like...of course."

Figures I'd attract the one nutcase in the bar, good looks aside. You can't be that attractive and have all your ducks in a row. The universe is a fickle bitch.

I scrunch my nose and lean closer, mystified by his words. He can't possibly know what I do, and also, what trouble could I be in? I've had nary a parking ticket in my twenty-seven years on earth. My most rebellious behavior earned me a few suspensions in high school, but that just about does it. Like I said, I have a temper. Doesn't make me particularly troublesome.

"I believe you took the wrong exit, my friend. The psychiatric center is one over. Simple mistake."

Only because I was bored with this assignment do I find myself laughing, " I am not the one whose talking to someone no one else can see, in this bar right now." I look at her, the bartender comes over as he's noticed Cora talking to thin air it looks like, "Is it time for some water miss? Or am I calling you a cab...?" He says, very skeptical.

I look back and forth between the Irishman and the bartender. What the fuck is going on?

I point to the asshole at my right, then look imploringly into the man's eyes. "You think I can get fucked up after two shots? This dickhead is harassing me. He's the one who needs a cab."

The bartender, a burly, curly-haired ginger, stares straight in the direction of the Irishman, but his gaze travels slightly overhead and to the left. I look back to find what's gotten his attention, yet see nothing. The motherfucker beside me has the nerve to smirk.

A moment later, the bartender slaps the bar between us and shakes his head. "No one's there, miss. I'll get you some water."

I smirk and lean in, " I am guessing you're not caught up to speed, on all gods and healers...the whole universe that monitors and watches your every move. Such as moves you did tonight, saving another life who was supposed to pass on. Do you need anymore clairifcation? We can skip the horror and shock, just go straight to...I am here now, I watch you make stupid decisions. "

Drinking down the rest of what I have left in my glass, I look to her and watch her eyes get even bigger than they already are, I quickly pull her out of the bar and suddenly they are in the alleyway. Before she can move, I hold her still, " I am not here to hurt you, you do know...about the gods, your mother must have shared this with you. She was not gifted with the ability but you're supposed to know..."

We're out in the open air, but my lungs feel bereft. I can't breathe. This isn't real. I gasp and shake my head. "No. See, my mother talked about gods and dimensions and wars and rules. Instead of thanking me for saving my brother after he drowned, she told me I shouldn't have fucked with the natural order of things. 'The gods are displeased,' she said."

I pause, watching him take in everything I'm saying. He believes it. He's just as fruity as my fucking mother. "She's schizo as fuck, man. You two should go bowling together."

Taking a step back, letting her have space but still close enough to grab her if she runs for it, "Your mother may have...health problems but everything she told you is true. I've only been watching you for a few weeks. If we are to discuss more of this, I suggest in private. Lead the way to your house, even though I know where it is. "

She remains still, I look at her, "I am not here to hurt you like I've said, you saved a life almost a year ago and that being your second, turning a blind eye is not happening anymore. "

I balk at his words. There are so many things to cover, I don't even know where to start.

"Let me get this straight. You've been stalking me? Spying on me? Just what have you been looking in on, you fucking creep?" I shake my head. This isn't happening. Nope. "My mom's insane. You're insane. This whole fucking week has been insane."

I'm still trying to conjure my thoughts into full, coherent sentences. I lean forward and rest my palms on my knees, forcing myself to take deep, calming breaths. In through the nose, out through the mouth.

It doesn't help. I straighten again and glare at him. "So you're here to boss me around, then? The only time I'll take orders from a man is if he's wearing a badge or signing my paychecks, and I don't see no goddamned uniform."

I look at her, "Let's please discuss this somewhere else, I can tell you everything you want to know and yes I am here to make sure you stop playing the role of God. People need to die....if I need to give this lecture I will and calm down, I've only seen the tattoo on your hip." I walk off to her car, I hold the keys in my hand and can see how she registers I have them, I smirk and get in the drivers side.

I wait and watch her contemplate on whether or not to follow him, I step out real quick and look at her, "Small thing to add that may interest you...every time you save someone's life with your ability, you lower down your protective shield if you will. It makes you hard to be discovered by many others who would like to use you, for their own gain. Anyways, they can get closer to finding you now....your call." I shrug and get in.

I'm a bundle of nerves and confusion. How can I believe this stranger? Then again, how can I not believe him? Haven't I wanted answers all my life? Haven't I been plagued with questions about my abilities since I was a child?

He seems to have the answers. I can't pass this up.

I acquiesce and climb into the passenger's seat. I buckle up and glance over at him. What he said makes sense. I don't want it to, but it does. The weakening of the protective shield, per se, would explain why I grow faint when I heal people. The bigger the job, the worse I feel afterward. But who's out to get me? "Who would be after me? How do you know all this?"

I drive off and head towards her apartment, "I told you I am a god, my specific job is watch over the healers in this world and make sure they are behaving. We can't just give humans this kind of ability and let them do whatever they want with it and yes, we..,you were chosen to have it Cora. You should be more selective and careful with it."

I quickly park the car, as we reach our destination, "Cars are really amazing..., humans are clever." I quickly get out and follow her into the apartment, she starts to walk slowly thinking I don't know what she's up to. Soon before she can pull the trigger on the gun she's taken out, I am sitting on a chair holding it. " Too be Blair, guns wouldn't do a whole lot of harm to me. You have to cut off my head and let's face it...that would be a waste." I get back up and hand her the gun, standing in front of her.

"You have an amazing ability, you help others escape death...something you help humans do all the time. A lot of different creatures, gods from different dimensions would do...horrible things to find you."

I stare down at the Beretta my father gifted me when I first moved into this apartment, feeling all kinds of helpless. I'd taken the classes. I'd trained. I've grown up with two older brothers; I'm the daughter of an Army veteran. I can hold my own in most fights. And this guy, this self-proclaimed god whose name I don't even know, was able to disarm me faster than I could blink.

My hands are shaking despite my best attempts to remain levelheaded. I pull back the drawer on my nightstand to return the weapon to where I had it. I'm all too aware of what else is in there. Frank Castle, my loyal BOB, rests there as well. I slam the drawer shut before he can get a glimpse. Hell, he's been watching me for months. He had to have seen more than my tattoo, so there's no sense in being bashful now.

I'm sure he's still talking, but my ears are ringing and my head is pounding. My senses are going haywire. "So, if I use my powers, I'm practically a beacon for anyone who wants me?" I consider that for a moment. What makes me so special, anyway? Just what would they do to find me? "Let's say I believe this jargon. Would my family be in danger?"

"You mess with nature, you were created to heal those in need but you can't go too far, some would like to see how far exactly they could use a power like yours." I suddenly hear a purr, I look down and see her cat. "Your family and you are not in danger,as long you don't save anymore people from dying, you're a nurse,....let it happen"

I ponder what he's said. Then, I ponder some more. Letting people die goes against my very nature. How could I have every tool at my disposal and watch someone pass without trying to help? Should I even trust what he's telling me? For all I know, he could be the bad guy in this scenario. I don't know what's what anymore.

Does it even matter? I can't risk my family.

I think of the boy who could've died because he'd been in the wrong place at the wrong time. A boy who'd done nothing to deserve it. I think of my brother Ryan, whom I'd brought back from the brink of death after falling into a lake when we were kids. He'd been my first. The second was last year. A mother of four who'd been impaled in a grisly car accident. How could I watch people die when I can so easily send them back to their families, fully restored?

My cat, a jet black Persian with emerald green eyes, is purring up a storm, sniffing the air. The Irishman regards him with boredom. "His name is Negan. Big Walking Dead fan. He hates people, so good luck with-"

I stop myself, because Negan strolls right up, nudging the man's leg with a wet pink nose. Before he can protest, my ornery feline has pounced onto his lap and settled himself into a content little ball of fur. To add insult to injury, my guest scratches Negan behind the ear. The purring commences, louder than before.

I grunt and sit down on my bed, right across from the so-called god in the chair. "Never mind, then. And you say that the more I keep people from crossing, the easier I'll be to find. Am I sending out signals when I do it? Can they not see me otherwise?" I pause and take a breath. Try to get my thoughts in order. "Can I not save as many people as I can, and you just tell me when the Big Bads get too close? I mean, why even have my powers if I can't use them to their fullest extent?"

The more he pets my cat, the more agitated I get. This is my cat. My fur child. My apartment. My life. He's waltzed in as if he has the right, and it's getting on my goddamned nerves. He looks way too comfortable in my cheap, hand-me-down furniture, he's way too fucking handsome to be trustworthy, and I'm mad that he's so fucking handsome. I want things back to the way they were a week ago. My life was shitty then too, but it was a manageable kind of shitty. Now, not so much.

"And what's your name, anyway? I'm not about to call you My Lord or some stupid shit like that."

As I scratch the cats ears, "My name is Lochlan. As I keep saying, you cannot save everyone,. For some it is naturally their time to pass and it creates sort of a...ripple of energy, it's hard to explain. I am exactly who I am and you can trust everything I say." Suddenly he grabs her and they appear on top of the Empire State Building of all places. He lets her go, "You are finally lost for words, look Cora, I have seen my fair share of challenging people. You, it's simple direction...from me, if I have to repeat it, I will then not be so pleasant. "

He goes up to her, close and as he feels her hand go to slap him he stops it easily, holding it firmly "My orders are to keep you from using anymore of your powers. Let those who are attacked cross over if they are meant to. Are we in agreement or do we need more encouragement?"

Heights aren't exactly my favorite. The time for shock and awe has come and gone. The day has been too long, and I've seen quite enough. I'm standing with a god who's faster than lightning, who can teleport to any place he chooses, and I have a feeling that that's only the tip of the iceberg. The cold air has goosebumps forming up and down my arms.

In general, I'm a bit of a feminist. I don't take kindly to controlling men. My internet history would suggest the opposite, though. There's something about the intense look in a man's eyes when he steps up to a challenge and meets you with steely resolve. Like now.

There's a fire in his eyes, and because I like taunting danger, I find myself stepping closer. My gaze travels to his lips. I can't help the thoughts that come to mind.

I decide to test him. My lids hooded, my face inches from his, I stare him down. "And what would that encouragement be?"

With a slight groan of annoyance, I simply have to get her to agree, more and more testing. With no more words, I grab her by the arm and force her over to the edge, hand placed on the neck and I simply hold her over it, her scream fills the air. You can hear the door wanting to bust open that leads the top of the building, with a wave of my other free hand. I forcefully keep it closed with my own magic. Glaring back, her eyes about to roll back, "You do not her my sympathy, this is not a game. It's much bigger than you and your little feminist power trip. Healers cannot be found, your job is to be here. Simply nod because I know you're scared right now and I will pull you back."

With a slight groan of annoyance, I simply have to get her to agree, more and more testing. With no more words, I grab her by the arm and force her over to the edge, hand placed on the neck and I simply hold her over it, her scream fills the air. You do not have my sympathy, this is not a game. It's much bigger than you than your little feminist power trip. Healers cannot be found, your job is to be here. Simply nod because I know you're scared right now and I will pull you back." As she dangles, held only by the neck from my hand,

I've never known fear in my life like the fear I feel in this instant. The wind is whipping at my back; my feet dangle helplessly over a hundred storeys above ground. My heart is hammering in my chest, my lungs fighting for air that won't come.

I'm stubborn enough to test him. Even now, fear and pure hatred warring with themselves for the top spot in guiding emotions. I don't think he'll do it. I don't truly believe he'll kill me so easily. He can't, or there'd be no point to any of this. He'd have offed me months ago and gone about his day.

There's more to this than he's telling me.

With all the effort I can manage, I push forth the last of the air in my lungs, rasping out a "fuck you".

I smirk, "Oh I can kill you, if that thought is running through your mind..a god is the only one who can. Yes, my main goal is to keep you alive...I am supposed to be considered one of the good guys but one less healer to babysit isn't a bad idea, one sacrifice for the greater good. I rather you meet that concrete than someone else find you."

I feel her fear and even though is slightly admire her courage, I can't let her die. She would learn the real truth if I speak any more and also, maybe a tiny soft spot. Healers cannot be found, I keep in my mind.

I bring her back on to the building, once feet are securely on the ground I let her go. I fold my arms slightly, "You got me though, I don't really want to kill you in particular...., I can leave you here to help you think things over. That door to the stairs is sealed shut by my magic and I am leaving, good luck getting down."

With not another word, off I go. Hoping this sets her straight, who really knows. Heading back to her apartment, I walk back in and lay on the couch, the cat joins me once again.