anything worth anything takes more than a few days, and a long, long night

After everything, after she comes home bloodied and terrified and exhausted, she does what little she can. Showers, changes, reassures Neil again (and again and again) that she's fine--that they all are, that the unbelievable danger that had come so close to happening was over almost before it had begun. Keeps her phone near her, one ear always listening for the buzz of a text coming through or the chime of her ringtone. When he's discharged and brought home, she goes to Nick's apartment to stay with him, taking turns with Charlie.

It's not a lot, any of it; maybe even less in combination, but it's all she has.

As worn out as she had been--as worn out as she is, still--it's all the worse for Sabrina, she knows. Rosie keeps her distance for a time, letting the other girl recover within the safety and quiet of her own house, but when she hears that she's awake again and more than ready for visitors, she doesn't hesitate. The trip up to the house near the woods takes as long as it always does, and when Salem meets her at the front door, Rosie bends to scratch him behind the ears before following him inside and down the hall.

oh when the clouds swirl and all the world is waking with the wind

It's only once it's all over, once Nick's been delivered into the far more capable hands of a doctor at Darrow General and there's nothing to do but wait and hope, that Rosie lets herself think about going back home. She could stay, she knows; clean off the dried and drying streaks of blood on her skin as well as she can in the bathroom by the emergency waiting room, look for something clean to wear in the hospital gift shop, stay with the remainder of the same small group that had convened outside the bar only a few hours ago. Maybe she even should, but the thought of a shower, of clean clothes that are her own, of seeing Neil and knowing that everything they'd just done had kept him safe too--all of that is enough to make up her mind.

She makes Charlie promise to text once there's more news, promising him in turn that she'll come back as soon as she can. Someone drives her to Candlewood, drops her at the door. There's a long mirror on one of the lobby walls by the elevator, some attempt at elegance or class that doesn't really fit with the rest of the building; spotted and streaked though it is, it's clear enough that Rosie gets her first proper look at herself. What she sees--rust-colored smears on her forehead and shins, hands gone crimson, stains on her blouse and skirt--makes her go pale and sends her stomach lurching unpleasantly. When the elevator chimes open, it's empty, a small miracle that she doesn't dare question, and she rides up to the eighth floor in silence.

Rosie unlocks the door to the flat, slipping inside as quietly as she can. Now, she just needs to get to the bathroom, get the door locked behind her and the shower on without Neil realizing she'd ever been gone in the first place. Once she's clean, she'll be able to face him, to start explaining what still seems to her more than a little unexplainable.