Phoebe burned with humiliation as he bandaged her ankle for her. Shit—she was a qualified Healer, one of the best in her department, and she could heal it in a blink of an eye, if only her thoughts would clear. The compression sent a lance of pain through her nerves, electricity arcing up her leg. A gasp escaped her, and she would have done anything for the ground to open wide and swallow her whole. 

“Come on,” he insisted, and she had half a mind to refuse, purely out of spite. It was counter-productive—she had chased him down, after all. Her curiosity gnawed at every corner of her brain. And she followed, like a stupid little crup, incapable of resisting his commands. She hated it. For years, she had dreamed of running into him again, but her imaginings had never been quite like this. He’d always been miserable in her head, a shadow of himself, and she’d had everything she’d ever wanted. Phoebe always figured she would have come out on top, would have been able to look at him without her heart shattering all over again. It wasn’t supposed to be like this.

He moved like he owned the place. Once she had found that deeply attractive. Now, it made Phoebe want to hex him into a bloody pulp. Teeth on edge, she carried herself with every ounce of dignity she could manage, strung out and limping faintly. She seated herself, a shiver rolling down her spine as she forced it straight. Pale fingers pushed her brunette waves off her face, ignoring the way her skin crawled as it clung to her neck. 

	He was speaking, making excuses, and Phoebe pursed her lips into a thin line. His words were cheap, but a part of her brain relished his words. [i]It hadn’t been easy[/i], he had said. Good. She hoped he’d agonized over it. Even if he was lying, just paying lip-service, she clung to the idea. 

A cup of Assam tea was placed before her. Her pride demanded she ignore it. She couldn’t obey his every whim. It was bad enough that she had followed him here. 

He was going on about secrecy—The Unbreakable Vow—and Phoebe narrowed her eyes. He gave her two options, the Vow or Leave, and it took every ounce of willpower she possessed to refrain from throwing her tea in his face. Lips curving into a humorless smile, she folded her arms.

“I have this policy,” she informed him cooly, “Of not forging Unbreakable Vows with assholes that make a habit of dropping off the face of the Earth, I’m sure you can understand.” She made no motion to leave, studying him. Out of the rain and seated, it was a little easier to cling to reality. Her nails curved into the flesh of her arms, determined to keep her shivering at bay. She could do this. She deserved nothing less.

“You know, here’s what I don’t get,” she willed her words to be clear, and she had no idea if she was successful at all. It was so bright in here. She could barely see him for the sparks, and she drove her nails in deeper. “You disappeared for ten years, for whatever idiotic reason or another, and you have this ridiculous idea that you can just show up and make demands of [i]me[/i]? Were you always this stupid, or is this a new development?”

She wanted to scream at him. She had followed every lead she could find, determined to find him and give him a piece of her mind, had waited like a pitiful child, hoping against hope that he would come back to her. His leaving had shattered her. And then he popped back into existence as if nothing had happened. It took a conscious effort to keep her teeth from chattering. Merlin’s tits, it felt like she’d jumped into a snowdrift.

“And here’s a thought; how is it that you know I was married, and yet I had to wonder if you were even alive? I’m almost impressed, honestly. I mean, I’m a shit judge of character, but it’s really amazing just how awful of a human being you turned out to be. I'd applaud you but, you know."