Rick had not spoken a word, not looked at Monica, he only kept his gaze on the path ahead. He couldn’t bring himself to stop moving until his thoughts were clearer on what he had to do, and that was currently impossible with the anger burning through his veins, pumping a thousand miles a minute. He wanted to drag her directly to the room and use the pokeball on her and keep her in there and scream until he stopped, feeling like his head was about to explode.

Which was exactly why he was walking in exactly the opposite direction of his room.

The knights at the gate to the gardens tried to stop them as he marched. One look and they practically jumped out of the way. Monica tried to say something, or do something, and Rick turned his gaze back to her and she flinched, lowering her head again, trailing behind him morosely.

With his hand grasping her paw, he stepped into the long tunnel of vegetation that hung in an illusion of privacy. Monica padded after him without making a sound. She didn’t say anything, but he could barely feel her emotions through the bond right now. Anger gone, she was now sullen and frustrated. He wanted to scream, to shout, to shake his finger and consider how to punish her.

Which was exactly why he continued walking.

In the dusk, it was hard to really appreciate whatever beauty the garden had. Not that he would have tried to pay attention. His focus remained on the pathway, visible enough for him to just barely keep his footing stable while dragging Monica along. The minutes ticked by, the fire began to die out. He kept walking. They’d made their way through the same spot at least four times. Monica’s attention was starting to wander away from him, but a singular look put her right back to her lowered ears.

Another three loops, Rick could properly think words and control his breathing.

Four more, he could actually slow down and unclench his grip.

Two more, his hands weren’t shaking from the crash of adrenaline.

In the next one, he slowed enough he could finally bring himself to stop, moving to one of the fountains.

“Sit.”

He sheathed the short-sword he’d been carrying in his free hand the whole way.

Monica plopped down to the ground without much fanfare, looking slightly upward at him. Their eyes met, and she lowered them, ears flattening. A frustrated grunt followed, full of indignity and many other things. Leaning forward, Rick took her paw and raised it so he could take a closer look. Blood stained the white fur, but most of her wounds were already closing. Even the deeper ones were scabbing over.

Rick turned to the fountain, removing his shirt and dipping it into the chilly water. With the drenched shirt, he began to slowly scrub away the fresh blood from Monica’s arms. Her own blood.

She looked at him, surprised and confused in equal measure. The maiden tried to shift and pull her arm from his grasp.

A quick glare made her stop.

The work was slow but methodical. First one arm, then the other, then he began doing the same with the blood on her torso. Monica didn’t look away from his face, not flinching even as the chilly water touched on the wounds that were still open.

Neither spoke, both trying to figure the other out, emotions swirling within them. She tested the bond, he could feel her focus through it, and he blocked her with what was left of his anger. It was enough to make her flinch and back down.

Her focus shifted to his own wounds, barely scratches but that were still bleeding. Monica leaned forward, placing her lips upon the larger one, slowly lapping at it. The gesture stung, and Rick slowed with his cleaning of her body. He waited, however, until she was satisfied, and returned to the work he’d been focused on, keeping her from focusing on his other scratches.

Finally done, Rick dropped the bloodied shirt to the ground.

“Stand.”

Monica nodded, slowly going up to her feet. Her eyes lingered on his other wounds, but their gazes met again.

Rick let out a sigh, patting the back of her fluffy, drenched paw.

“I know you’re scared.”

Her face narrowed with a frown, shoulders tense and her tail swishing in annoyance. “Monica no scared.”

She barely moved, however, her paw in his hand as he gripped her fingers. She looked down at him as he held her there, his hand pulling her to press against his chest.

“Rick protect Monica.”

Her ears flattened. Monica growled, scoffed, shook her head. But she’d have to fight if she wanted to pull her hand away. She huffed, cheeks puffing and her head shaking wildly. But he waited, watching her as she clearly wanted to say something about that, complain in some way.

“Rick protect Monica.” He repeated, watching her growl again.

Slowly, she huffed, and deflated, lowering her head. “Rick… protect Monica.” She conceded.

“Rick protect Monica, here.” He said, making sure to stare into her eyes. “Monica protect Rick… out there.”

The last two words had not been ones that were part of her vocabulary just yet, but he hoped the message was clear as he gestured at the horizon. Monica looked slightly less sullen at that, nodding.

“Monica protect Rick.” She nodded enthusiastically.

“Rick protect Monica, here.”

The maiden faltered, far less energetic. “Rick protect Monica.” She muttered, almost a mumble, looking away, petulant.

“I’ll protect you.”

Reaching up with his free hand, he took her cheek in his palm and turned her face so their eyes would meet. She mumbled, nodding slightly. “Rick protect.”

Rick let out a sigh he hadn’t been aware he’d been holding onto. He nodded, a mountain of exhaustion suddenly dropping on him like a hammer. He tugged her, bringing her face closer. Monica hesitated for only a moment before leaning into the kiss. She lowered her body slowly, kneeling so she could look up at him when their lips parted.

The maiden wrapped her cold drenched arms around his chest and she pressed her head against his chest. He hugged her back, patting gently and sighing a second time. He’d have to talk with the earl about this, apologize, and probably look for how to repay the damages. It didn’t look like they’d be able to stick around for much longer either, not when Monica could get another moment like this one.

He just hoped the extent of the problems would only go that far.

Rick wasn’t sure what had brought about the whole thing. He’d have to pry it out of her later, but he suspected she’d not be very collaborative about it. This whole thing had worn him thin, drained him, and left him half-way to figure out how-.

Another kiss interrupted his thoughts. Monica pulled him into her lips with hunger. Her gaze was chastising, a reproach he had lost any energy to deny. He rolled his eyes at her. “You did bad, Monica.”

She pouted.

“Small bad.”

“No, Monica, big bad.”

“No hurt, no kill. Little bad. Little little.” She tried to argue, the look in her eyes was hopeful.

Rick just shook his head, pulling her head against his chest and just trying his best to recover the strength he’d lost. He’d have to think about what to do later once he could better understand the extent of the consequences.

She petulantly hugged him.

They embraced one another for several more minutes. Monica’s head slowly turned, releasing him and leaning into the biggest scratch that he’d received from approaching her fight. She licked his shoulder, making him wince.

“Monica sorry.”

“Yeah, well, Monica has to apologize to the others.”

“No.” There was a hint of fire there.

He stared at her intently. “Yes.”

A low grumble and a growl, but she didn’t try to refute him. Her lips moved to the next wound. She was tender, only doing small probing licks to each of the wounds that were still bleeding. “Dia heal Rick.” She spoke with annoyance, almost begrudgingly so. She sniffed at another one of the light cuts and her nose was scrunching up. “Dia heal.”

“Yeah, later. I don’t think we should stay here any longer.”

With a sigh, he picked up the drenched shirt, scrubbing out some of the blood, and squeezing it dry as best he could before draping it over his shoulder. Monica took his hand, and they made their way out of the garden.

Deneva was waiting for them, escorted by four of the other high-ranking knights, but the captain was not wearing her armor. The green-haired maiden stood statuesque and poised, her gaze sharp as she took one long look at Rick in what felt like an attempt to assess his physical condition. But her brows rose ever so slightly as her focus moved from his exposed chest to the shirt.

The knights behind her weren’t as stoic. A few of them blushed severely as they looked from the shirtless Rick to Monica and back. The feline had picked up on it and started to inflate, looking smugly.

“Monica.”

His voice chided her, and she flinched, tail falling limp.

She grumbled, sighed, mumbled, and her shoulders slumped. Stepping towards Deneva, she lowered her head just a little, a mimicry of a bow. “Monica sorry.”

Deneva’s eyes widened further in the first full show of actual emotion Rick had seen from her throughout the weeks he’d been staying here. And rather than wait for Monica to add anything else to her statement, he stepped forward.

He bowed properly, following protocol a bit more strictly. “I will be taking Monica to my room. This was a breach of trust and I would want to apologize to the Earl in person once I’ve had a chance to regain my strength.”

“…”

Deneva was still looking at Monica and then at Rick. She didn’t react until one of her subordinates coughed loudly. With a quick nod, she bowed in acknowledgment. “I will convey your words to the Earl. You will have his response tomorrow.”

“Thank you, captain Deneva.” He smiled wanly. “And I am sorry Monica attacked you, tonight's events should not have happened.”

“I fought her as I should have.” She declared almost reactively.

The royal knight turned to leave, her subordinates followed in quick order.

Rick wondered why they’d all been sent there in the first place rather than just a messenger, shrugged, and just chose to drag himself to bed before he fully collapsed. Whatever was going on could wait until he didn’t feel like he’d run a marathon.