The exhaustion radiating from Mattie's being was seeping into Nicholas, although her meltdown seemed to be curbing. He felt more peaceful. He felt relief that she was finally calming down, whether from acceptance, exhaustion, or intoxication. The smell of alcohol invaded his nostrils, but it wasn't something he couldn't handle. She lightly began brushing his arm with her fingertips, and this familiar feel of physical contact only relaxed Nicholas even more. For a moment, his eyes slipped closed. Then she spoke.

"I'll be safe," she mumbled. The second the words left her lips, Nicholas lightly tightened his arms around her in an almost protective embrace. She said, "I can fly so much better than three years ago. I'm stronger and...so are you."

It was true. Nicholas knew he was stronger, and he could tell that she was stronger. At least physically. He remember that the last time they were together, these roles were reversed. Mattie was the protector. Nicholas was a wreck. Now, he was holding her, trying to be her rock after not being there for her for so many years. She sounded so tired. Like she'd given up. He carefully slipped his hand under the back of her shirt and caressed her wing softly, the one that had previously been so terribly damaged.

"Your feathers grew back," he muttered into her hair. The wing felt almost completely repaired. There was a roughness along where the tear had previously been, but it was mostly covered by small, growing feathers. He withdrew his hand and held her again. "I'm not going anywhere this time. Whatever comes next, we'll face together. Okay? I promise."