Title : The Downward Spiral

Genre : Anime

Summary : Takes place immediately following the events of episode 10. Abel is a haunted man, facing the long unfortunate road of recovery. Angst abounds.

Disclaimer : I do not own Trinity Blood or any of its characters.

Chapter 1 : Enduring the Storm

His head was already spinning before he opened his eyes, vertigo teasing his conscious sight. A soft groan escaped his lips as he allowed himself to see, the face of who he assumed was Father Tres hovering above him. With the doubling of his vision and the fact that his glasses were indeed missing, made it all the more harder to tell.

“Status report, Father Nightroad.” Just the sound of the other man's voice made the pounding in the priest's head multiply tenfold, and the nauseas feeling that was swirling in the pit of his stomach threaten to rise to the back of his throat.

“I'm-I'm fine, Father Tres, thank you,” Abel replied as politely as he could, his voice slightly hoarse from days of no use. The man attempted to sit up only to have a strong hand placed on his chest, Father Tres easily pushing him back to the mattress.

“Negative. Your eyes are unfocused and your body is already showing signs of stress from attempting to move. Please stay in your current position while I inform Sister Kate that you are now awake,” the so-called “killing doll” stated, already relaying the information to his designated person.

“Now, really, that's just unnecessary, Tre—“ the priest tried but to no avail.

“Negative. You have been unconscious for five days, fifteen hours, thirty-two minutes and seventeen seconds, an indication that your body was badly injured in the altercation between—“ This time it was Abel's turn to interrupt.

“I understand, Tres, but really, I'm fine,” Father Nightroad insisted, raising a hand to silence the machine. Inwardly, he knew he wasn't, but making a fuss about it wasn't going to solve any of his problems right now.

His heart was beating erratically, and dizziness was still conquering his head, his vision swaying helplessly before him. “Now, where are my glasses?” he wondered aloud, his voice still low as he reached blindly for his optical wear. Within seconds, Abel could feel them being placed gently on his face. “Thank you, Tres,” he murmured, adjusting them slightly, his hand still shaking even though he was trying desperately to control it.

“Your blood sugar levels are low. You are in need of nourishment,” Father Tres announced, already beginning to transmit the information to Sister Kate.

Even though it was true, he protested the fact. “Tea would be fine. Besides, I don't think I can handle anything stronger at the moment anyway.”

Gunslinger stared at him a moment before nodding. “Understood.” And with that, he went back to his position at the door, awaiting further orders from his superior.

Five days, hmmm...that might be a record, Abel thought sarcastically, slowly easing himself into a sitting position under the watchful eye of Father Iqus. He slowly leaned against the headboard of the small bed, resisting the urge to vomit once more, his thin fingers gripping the white linens ever so carefully.

“Tres...what exactly are we waiting for?” the priest asked softly after a few minutes, his tone curious yet low. He couldn't quite look Gunslinger in the eye, completely unsure of why. Perhaps, it was out of embarrassment due to the fact that he was lying there in his pajamas, even though the other man wouldn't have cared what Abel was wearing or not.

“My direct orders from Cardinal Caterina were to stay with you, Father Nightroad until you awake. I am then to remain with you until her eminence can attend to you personally,” the red-head answered in his monotonous tone.

“Oh, I see,” Abel nodded slowly, clenching his jaw in an effort to fight against the burning sensation that was silently creeping up the back of his throat. “About how long do you think that'll take?”

“The exact amount of time I am unable to verify—“

“Well, if it's not too soon, would you mind helping me to the restroom then?” the pale-faced man asked, almost pitifully, his blue eyes starting to water. He couldn't hold it much longer.

“Status report,” the machine commanded as he made his way back over to the bed, extending his arm down to the priest who hurriedly accepted it.

Fighting the dizziness that was wracking his vision, he held on tightly to the other man's arm, his strength all but lost in the time it took him to get up from the bed and take his first few steps. His legs nearly gave out on him all but three times in the ten feet that separated his bed from the bathroom, his nails digging clumsily into Father Tres' sleeve.

“Forgive me,” Abel muttered as he dropped to his knees, having only enough time to raise the porcelain lid before the contents of his stomach were emptied into the bowl. After what felt like hours, he raised his head up, realizing that Gunslinger was still standing there, holding his long locks from his face. “Thank you, Tres,” he whispered, sitting back against the wall of the bathroom, sweat trickling down his forehead. He wiped it away with the back of his hand, tensing when he realized his glasses were missing. Oh no... He hadn't had time to take them off...

“You may go now, Gunslinger,” Caterina's voice cut through Abel's worrisome thoughts, his head immediately jerking at the sound of her voice. The last thing he needed was for her to see him like this.

At once, he felt his hair fall back into place, Tres' footfalls quietly disappearing in the back of his mind.

He didn't want to look up, not in the least. Though she was a fairly strong woman, and decidedly had the ability to handle herself well, he knew he'd still see some form of pity in her eyes. Regardless of whether she tried to hide it or not.

“How are you feeling?” she inquired, staring down at the priest, his gaze fixed on the wall in front of him.

“I've been better,” he admitted wistfully, running a hand through his hair, the pajama sleeve raising just enough to reveal a pale and bony wrist.

Caterina's eyes narrowed at this, all the while knowing that the majority of this upcoming problem was her fault. “Are you in need of assistance?” There was a sharpness to her tone that she did not intend, although it was clear that he was going to get underneath her skin.

“No, I think I'll stay here a little while longer. Just to be safe.” He let a ghost of a smile creep upon his lips, his eyes never once making contact with hers. He was trying to hard to hold up the facade, though by the sound of his near-trembling voice, he was unsure of how much longer he could.

There was a faint knock on the bedroom door, but he didn't bother to look up, Caterina already acknowledging whomever it was. Abel could hear her speaking softly to someone, but he paid no attention, letting the sound of his heart beating against his ribcage control his ears.

“Really, there's no need to worry about me, Caterina. I'm fine.” The priest's attempt to reassure the Duchess of Milan was failing, and miserably at that. Risking a glance, he let his eyes wonder, if only for a moment, to hers. Through failing vision, he could just barely make out the anger that was creasing her brow. Immediately, his gaze fell to the floor, his body tense under her scrutiny.

“Your vision is growing worse, is it not?” she questioned, shifting slightly underneath her robes. The noise of the fabric rustling barely registered in Abel's ears, his mind too fixated on the answer he was preparing for her inquiry.

He wanted to tell her the truth. He did. But not right now. Not yet anyway.

But he couldn't exactly lie about it either...

“It's only temporary,” the priest attempted to explain, absentmindedly taking note of the faded bruise on the back of his right hand and the scratches that littered his knuckles. “I'll be back to a hundred percent soon, so don't worry.”

She could hear the slightest hint of anger in his voice as he spoke, resentment clearly present in his tone. And guilt. The one thing the man seemed to carry with him at all times.

“You nearly got yourself killed.” Caterina didn't hesitate as she spoke, all the while knowing she was pouring salt on a wound that wasn't even close to healing. “And in the process, all that we've worked for could have been lost.”

“I beg your pardon?” There was a definite element of surprise as well as anger in his tone, his head quickly jerking in her direction once more, only to find his glasses being nearly shoved onto his face. He blinked a few times as his eyes adjusted accordingly, but the glance of innocence was lost as his blue eyes narrowed.

“There's no need to repeat myself. You know exactly what I'm talking about, Abel. You acted foolishly and carelessly, not once giving thought to the destruction you could have caused or the lives that could have been taken.” The woman was most definitely angry, perhaps not for all the right reasons, but she had her fair share.

“I was only trying to protect you!” he stated defensively, his voice starting to raise, hurt carefully woven into his expression. The man clenched his jaw, tears threatening to stain his pale cheeks.

“You almost died,” she reminded him, her voice never once faltering, even as shadows of that day flashed before her eyes. Not once in the ten years she had known him had she ever seen the man so weak and helpless, so...pale. “And correct me if I'm wrong, but you can't protect anyone if you are dead.” Guilt immediately flooded through her system, knowing that what she was saying would probably hurt worse than anything he had experienced that day.

“You're right,” Abel replied, the priest's voice dropping low as he found himself staring at the wall once more, silver hair falling in his face. “How careless of me,” he added, his hands clenching the pale blue fabric of his pajamas. “It will not happen again, your eminence.”

Caterina could tell he was near tears, and she had been the reason for that. But this man was her friend, one of the far and few she had left, and she wasn't about to lose him now. If this was the only way to insure that, then so be it.

“A medical assistant will be here shortly to check up on you,” the Duchess stated, watching Abel slowly disintegrating before her very eyes, her words barely reaching his hearing.

“Now, there's no need for that. I'm perfectly fine.” His voice was just above a whisper, sarcasm wrapping itself around every word he said, though he somehow managed to avoid sounding like a smartass.

She stared at the broken man for a moment longer, forcing herself to remove the images of his bloodied and battered body laying on the ground before her, that ungodly fear seizing her heart as the thought of never seeing life in the Crusnik's eyes crept through her head. Without another word, she exited the room, hurriedly wiping away the stray tear that had managed to escape down her cheek. 'No, Abel, I'm afraid you're not...'

A/N- Sorry for the long wait everyone. Hope the characters aren't too OOC. :D Hope you're enjoying it so far...