Healing Angel

The man looked around Reagan's mess of an apartment. Canvases leaned against walls, and paint tubes sat in piles on her side table. On an old wooden stand was a half painted dragon trying to crawl from a black canvas. It's scaly face and body a bland brown and it's feathered wings bright and vibrant reds and oranges and yellows. Reagan walked into the living room with gauze, a bowl of hot water and a faded green wash cloth.  

"That's beautiful." He pointed weakly at the dragon, his voice hoarse.

"Thank you." She smiled. "Why don't you take your shirt off and I'll see if I can get that blood off?"

The man nodded, sliding his shirt off over his head, revealing a finely sculpted body, muscular, thin, scarred. Across his chest, was four long claw marks. Taking a breath, she looked away, focusing on the wash cloth.

After a silent moment, "So...um...what your name?"

"Cassiel." He watched her squeeze out the cloth, "and yours?"

"Reagan-"  She paused. "This might sting a little." Sitting next to him, she gently washed the blood from his arm. "What happened?"

He looked over at her, watching as she wrapped his forearm. "Fight with my brother."

She contemplated for a short moment before tying the wrapping and switching to his other arm. "Some brother."  

"Uh." He groaned slightly at the thought.

Reagan slowly began to wrap his arm and Cassiel watched her careful hands as they gently dressed his wound. She tied the gauze and quickly cleaned up the water and took the washcloth and his shirt and began to walk to the door before pausing and turning back to him. "I'll-I'll be right back. Just stay there."

He nodded and she walked out, down the hall to the floor's washing machine and dryer. "Why did you bring him home? A perfect stranger? You fool." She mumbled to herself, measuring out a cap full of laundry detergent. "Idiot." Reagan shook her head. "Why?" She let the lid fall with a clunk. Sighing, she turned back down the hall, trusting her gut rather than her brain.

"So," she said, walking through the door, "I have a shirt my brother left, it might fit you." Without pausing she walked straight to her spare room. When she came back a second later she had a Led Zeppelin t-shirt. The man looked from the shirt, then up to her. "It's all I got." She tossed the shirt at him.

Cassiel just smiled and slid the shirt on over his head. It was a little large, but comfortable. "Thank you."

"Your welcome." Flashing a grin, she disappeared into the spare bedroom. "You can sleep on the couch for the night if you don't have a place to go." She called as she rummaged around in the closet.

"That would be great. Thank you."

"You can only stay the night." She carried an arm full of blankets and a pillow in. "I'll re-wrap your arms in the morning. "

"Thank you. I appreciate everything you've done for me."

She dropped the blanket and pillow next to him. "Just doing my civic duty. I guess." Rubbing her eyes, she slowly walked towards her room, glancing at the clock. 11:59 pm. "Good night." She gave him a half assed wave as she entered her small, square bedroom with it's boring cream walls and black sheets, quilt, and pillow cases. The faint smile fading as her exhaustion took over.

Closing the door behind her, she took her shirt off and tossed it into a pile on a chair, adding her pants and underwear. She pulled on a  t-shirt, three sizes too big, and climbed under the covers, vanishing beneath them.

~

No alarm went off. The lovely thing about Sundays. The sunlight woke Reagan up, much to her displeasure. Groaning slight, she stretched, sliding out of bed. Her visitor suddenly popped into mind. Tip-toeing to the door, she peeked out at the couch. To her displeasure (again) the couch was empty, the blanket was folded neatly and the pillow was on top of it, the t-shirt lied out next to the pile. Looking around the apartment, she realized he was gone. Nothing of great importance seemed to be missing.

"For the best. I guess." She let the door swing open as she grabbed a pair of jeans and a tank top and headed for the shower. Letting the water fall through her hair and down her back she couldn't help but worry about the strange man. Cassiel. What kind of a name is that?

Sliding into the living room, hair wet, fully dressed, she scoped up the pillow, blanket and shirt, carrying them out to the laundry room. It didn't surprise her to find the shirt he had worn was gone. She started another load, carrying the pillow back to her apartment. Reagan walk back to her apartment slowly, watching her feet as they sank a little each time they hit the cushioned, grey carpet. She walked into the apartment, looking at the half painted dragon.
  

      "I should probably finish you." She said, grabbing a few of the acrylic paint tubes and squeezing them out onto a palette. A few supplied later, she was painting. Adding shadows to the feathers and the dragon's scales. An hour or so later, there was a forest behind the beast, snow covered pine trees and a rising moon, it's light reflecting off the peaks.
    

    Reagan grinned at her creation. "There, your all done." Walking all her supplies into the kitchen, she washed the brushes and palette, setting them out to dry. Turning around, leaning against the counter she looked around the apartment. It seemed too empty. Shaking the feeling away, she set the wet canvas against an empty wall space, putting a white, blank canvas on the easel. Grabbing a can of black paint, she stuck a wide brush into it, whipping the excess paint off and whipping it evenly over the canvas till the white was gone, replaced by the black hole.