Waking was an unpleasant affair.  Everything hurt.  His eyes felt glued together.  And Gunwoo was just plain tired.  But after several failed attempts to pry open his unwilling lids, he succeeded at last.  The room he found himself in was not what he was expecting.  It looked sterile like a hospital, but it was too comfortable for that.  Everything was gray and drab, illuminated by the natural light filtering through the blinds to reveal the interior.  His bed was soft and warm and he was confused.

                With a groan, the Heir sat up and flexed aching wings and shoulders.  A brief moment of panic made him straighten as he remembered what had happened… yesterday?  Whenever he’d last been conscious.  But though his heart raced, he forced himself to sit still, fingers gripping his standard and clean pants.  Frowning, he realized someone had changed him in his sleep again.

                “You freaking out right now isn’t going to change if they’re alright or not,” he reminded himself in a quiet voice, taking a shallow breath to try and relieve the nerves in his stomach.  He was alive and well which meant that those who had survived the other day probably were too.  Changmin should be with the healing he’d given the other angel (hopefully), Seyong was dead – the thought hurt more than he realized it would, and he had no idea about Victoria.

                In a slow, deliberate motion, he loosed his pants and ran long fingers through his messy hair.  Part of him wanted to rush out of the drab and otherwise lifeless room, if only to make sure of what exactly had happened.  The other part of him was afraid to find out for sure.  Especially since he knew that Kim Myungsoo was much more than just the contact liaison on Earth…  He probably wasn’t a Celestial or Khaos member, but with that much power, it meant he would have to be one of the rarely seen Discoverers.  That made Gunwoo’s stomach drop even further.

                And what of the demons?  Vindication surged when he remembered slaying Jaejoong with his own hands, but there had been others there as well.  Never mind Taekwoon.  And Wonshik…  As if his racing thoughts could somehow summon someone, he inhaled sharply when his door creaked open, swinging inward to reveal a familiar face.

                “You are awake,” Insoo nodded once, biting on his bottom lip gently.  His face looked tired, with unusual shadows under his eyes and a dull pallor to his cheeks, but he was steady enough on his feet.

                “Just woke up,” Gunwoo nodded in agreement, not sure how he was supposed to act now.

                When he moved as if to stand up, Insoo waved him off and stepped inside, closing the door behind him.  “I’ll come to you.”

                “Oh boy,” Gunwoo exhaled, knowing that couldn’t be good.

                “It’s not all bad,” the other angel scoffed with a sideways but weak smile.  “So dramatic,” he rolled his eyes, punching Gunwoo lightly in the shoulder as he took a seat on the soft bed.  Even as he said that though, he couldn’t quite look up to meet his cousin’s eyes.

                “Seyong’s dead,” Gunwoo stated simply, staring at Insoo, begging the other to correct him.  Instead, his stomach curled in even further when he got a nod in response.  Damn.  “I never imagined anyone would ever be able to beat him,” he swallowed, threading his fingers together tightly.  “Cosmos know I never could.”

                By the twist of Insoo’s mouth, he didn’t think he was going to like what the other was going to say.  “Back when he was guarding you, it probably would have been damn near impossible,” he agreed with a slow nod.  “But he hadn’t been guarding you for a long time now,” Insoo sighed, giving his cousin a meaningful, sidelong glance.

                Gunwoo winced as if struck.  “He wasn’t keeping up with his training?”  That seemed impossible for the always dedicated angel.

                Insoo shifted to turn the full weight of his gaze on the younger angel.  “Would you have?”

                His gut reaction was to say yes, but even as he opened his mouth to respond, guilty doubt kept the word from being voiced.  “Maybe?” he murmured instead, feeling as unsure as he had when he was a child.  What hope did a Forsaken Royal angel have of ever becoming what he was originally assigned as when the one who left you was the Heir…?

                “Right,” Insoo laughed once, shaking his head.  “Well.  Even if you did decide to be a little fledgling,” the jab made Gunwoo frown, “he died doing what he promised he would: protecting you.”  The frown disappeared, replaced by guilt once more.

                “The others?” he wondered in a tight voice, turning away as he tried to school his emotions again.  His cousin was being intentionally harsh about Seyong.  He knew that – they’d been good friends after all, but it wouldn’t do either of them good to dwell on things they couldn’t change right now.

                For a long moment more, Insoo stared at the Heir, unblinking in his scrutiny, but at last he relaxed and exhaled.  “Changmin’s alive as you probably figured.”  Gunwoo couldn’t help the relieved smile that stole across his face.  “Victoria too.”  Unexpected joy spiked and then stalled at the sidelong look that accompanied it.  “But her wings might never fully recover.”

                Gunwoo’s hands tightened into fists and he bit his top lip.  “How bad?”

                “It’s too early to tell,” the other Royal exhaled, seeming very drained all of the sudden.  “For all his power, Myungsoo can’t heal so I’ve been doing what I can.  But I’m just one angel and cosmos I’m tired,” he admitted, slumping where he sat.  His wings drooped limply against his shoulders and he did appear to be rather gray in the face.

                “But she’ll survive?” Gunwoo pressed hesitantly.

                “She should,” Insoo confirmed after a moment.  “Same with those newbies.  The angel and demon.”

                “Wonshik and Taekwoon?”

                “Yeah,” he murmured after a pause to recall the names.  “The surviving demons are here too, but I haven’t spoken with them.  Myungsoo has kept them apart for now.  Including that other… Discoverer I think.  I still don’t know his name, but he’s trouble.”

                “Do we know they’re Discoverers?” Gunwoo couldn’t help but ask.

                “Pretty sure,” his cousin shrugged, obviously not too concerned about it just then.  He rubbed at his face with his hands and exhaled a gusty sigh.  “There’s also a human here too.  He keeps asking about you.”

                That got Gunwoo’s attention.  “A human?”

                Insoo grunted in response with a slow blink.  “Some sort of K name I think.  Feisty little thing,” he snorted, an amused smile tugging at his mouth.

                “Kibum?” the Heir offered hesitantly, his voice tinged with hope.

                “Maybe,” his cousin mumbled, stifling a yawn as he started to lean behind Gunwoo so he could lay on the bed.

                “Eh?” Gunwoo grunted when he felt himself being nudged from the surface.

                “Your turn to play healer,” Insoo muttered with his eyes already closing as he promptly curled up on the covers.  “I’ve been at it for the past two days.  Go pull your weight, Highness,” he added with just enough inflection to really sting.

                Gunwoo wanted to argue with him.  He wanted to rebut the title.  He wanted to be mad at Insoo for kicking him out of bed and essentially forcing him to face what was next.  But he didn’t do any of that.  He stood and stared at his exhausted, drained cousin, feeling strangely grateful and guilty at the same time.  If this jerk hadn’t found him in the first place, none of this would have happened.  Granted, if he hadn’t left, then no one would have needed to find him, and nothing after would have been a concern.  But if he hadn’t left, he wouldn’t have met Kibum; he wouldn’t have tasted real freedom; Changmin never would have come to save him because he never would have needed to.

                “So stupid,” he laughed bitterly, the sound quiet and subdued.  Taking another deep breath, he finally swallowed and gathered his nerve.  There was no banishing the guilt right now, but neither could he escape where he was or who had found him.  Not to mention that he was currently the only angel available to provide cosmic healing.  That and the fact he needed to see what had happened to the others decided for him.

                With a silent inward swing, the door opened and Gunwoo stepped out, bracing himself for what would be on the other side.  He was… underwhelmed, all things considered.  Open would be how he would describe it.  The interior was nearly bare and the same white, sterile color as his room had been, but the natural light from the sun streamed in from four huge windows on all sides.  Each corner, including the one he’d stepped out of, was covered by a wall that should have made the rooms behind them triangular.  That made him blink in surprise, but then he frowned.  There didn’t seem to be nearly enough space available to hold the area of the room he’d just left.

                Still puzzled, Gunwoo left the corner he was in to peer out the nearest window.  He stopped breathing altogether and stared in dumbfounded wonder.  They were floating.  Above a city.  And there didn’t seem to be anything but this platform he was on.  “What in the cosmos…?” he whispered in awe.  This was far beyond any of the technology he even knew existed and he was the Angel Empire Prince.

                One of the other doors closed softly behind him and he inhaled sharply before turning around, eye still wide in his face.  “Come around, have you?” Myungsoo murmured with a familiar smirk playing on his lips.  He looked unchanged from the last time Gunwoo had seen him, though he did appear to be wearing different clothes at least and the bruises had otherwise disappeared.

                “Yeah,” he answered slowly, nodding as words were difficult to come up with.

                “Pocket universe,” the other man smiled, lips turning up at the corners before sinking back into the smirk.  “In your language,” he added with a raised brow.

                Gunwoo pointed towards the room he had come from before pointing to the one Myungsoo had arrived from.  “How…?”

                “Think of them as dimension doors,” Myungsoo shrugged, crossing the distance between them easily in a few long strides.  “Simple enough to displace space that no one is using and hide it in a fold of the universe for whatever use I need,” he snorted, waving his hand as if it was nothing.

                “Displaced space?” Gunwoo croaked, eyes going even wider in his face.

                “Mm.”  After a moment, Myungsoo took a breath and tilted his head to the side when it became apparent Gunwoo wasn’t going to respond first.  “Come along, Prince.  You’ll get used to it soon enough.  Here,” he gestured, taking the Heir’s elbow in one hand as he guided him back towards the door he’d first stepped out of.  “It doesn’t matter which one you use.  Just think of where you want to go,” he winked, turning the handle and pushing the door in to reveal an entirely different room.

                Familiar technology abounded as Gunwoo was ushered into a space that looked far more similar to an Angel Healing Hall.  Soft, golden lights glowed through clear tubes along the ceilings and walls; raised anti-gravity beds hovered in the corners of the room; three bodies rested in the space above them peacefully.  All three bore wings.  Or at least the remnants of them.  And Gunwoo winced as he realized they were his companions.  On the walls beside them, holoscreens were constantly monitoring their vitals with a glowing blue image of their body and exoskeleton overlaid.  In Victoria’s case, a separate screen focused in on her wings, the tattered, fractured bones looking like a latticework of aged and breaking stone.

                “I figured you would want to start here,” Myungsoo shrugged, giving Gunwoo a nudge to set him further into the room.  “When you’re done, just step out of the room and it’ll take you back to anchor point.  From there, you can search for anything – or anyone – that you want to find here,” he explained, clapping him once on the shoulder.  “Now if you’ll excuse me.  The humans are still throwing a fit about the debacle you all managed to create the other day,” he sighed, shaking his head with a long suffering groan.

                And just like that, Gunwoo was left alone in the silent, floating company of Changmin, Victoria, and Wonshik.  They were as still as death, and he might have been worried if he hadn’t seen the steady beat of their hearts on the screens beside them.  “Okay,” he breathed, swallowing hard while he tried to figure out who he should see first.  Not that it was really that difficult a choice.

                It was selfish of him, he knew, but he was inevitably drawn to Changmin.  The Heir moved to stand beside him and let his eyes trail over the mostly uncovered form.  A privacy wrap covered his manhood, but Gunwoo was more concerned about the myriad scars covering the tan skin.  A newly healed and still angry looking one dominated his torso and Gunwoo cringed at the memory.

                Jaejoong’s sword impaling Changmin.  The blade ripping free to tear him open.  So much blood on the ground.  “I’m sorry,” he whispered, gently laying his hand over the scar that extended beyond his fingers.  “Seyong’s dead and you almost died because of me,” he admitted, swallowing hard.  Stepping even closer so he could lean over the resting angel, he bit his lip as he stared at Changmin’s serene face.  Sleep washed away the stress and worry of the past few days so that he actually looked at peace for once.  Dark hair curled around his forehead and ears, accenting his pale complexion, but he looked whole and not in danger of dying.

                Gunwoo couldn’t help but trace his fingers down the slightly gaunt cheeks – he hadn’t been eating enough lately.  Oh so gently, he brushed the tips against unresponsive lips.  His hand turned and he ran the backs of his fingers against a smooth forehead.  The tense furrows that were usually there were gone for the moment.  Taking a breath, he pushed on the other shoulder and turned Changmin onto his side in the air, revealing his wings.  Dark eyes scanned the slightly sparse appendages before his hands followed.  A slight knot in one showed where the bone had been snapped and recently healed; that had to be Insoo’s doing.  It was still tender though, not solid enough to support his weight if he was going to fly.

                “And that’s what I’m for,” he reminded himself, swallowing again as he gently righted the angel once more.  “But not yet,” he sighed, his lips before he glanced over at the other two.  Changmin was in no danger anymore and he couldn’t bring himself to check on Victoria yet, so he wandered over to Wonshik.

                The new angel had gotten pretty banged up in the recent fight, with his worst wounds coming from Seyong.  Grimacing, Gunwoo turned him in the air to see a thin, mostly healed line running down his spine.  The flaming sword had missed cutting off a wing, but it was clear the blade had cut deep.  Peering closer at the screen, Gunwoo nodded in understanding: the spinal cord had been hit.  Tapping the screen, he focused in on the neuron pulse streams and grimaced at the reduced activity in the lower body.  Damn.  That was always tricky to heal.  Especially if there wasn’t much cosmic energy to pull from for the healing.  It wasn’t dark though, and that was a good sign.

                When he was satisfied with his appraisal of the situation, Gunwoo had to steel himself to get ready for the last angel.  And when he got close enough, he realized he wasn’t.  Remnants of puckered, pink skin showed where she’d been badly burned and her hair was going to take some time to grow back.  Someone had cut it short to get rid of the worst, burnt clumps and it looked strange on her.  Even more so than Changmin, her body was littered with scars that hadn’t yet healed and some that looked decades old.  And her wings… her poor, beautiful wings were mere tatters still.

                “Oh Victoria,” Gunwoo murmured, biting his knuckle as his throat closed up.  As important as their wings were to them, the rest of the body was focused on first for healing.  But… if the wings weren’t healed quickly, they were the most susceptible to permanent injury.  If the inherent cosmic energy in them ‘died,’ the dead spots remained so.  He feared she had reached that point.  And it was his fault too.  “I’m so sorry,” he hiccupped softly with blurry eyes.  Very carefully, he wrapped both his hands around her closest one and closed his eyes.

                Breathing slowly, he let his divination guide him.  His wings opened, feathers shivering, and cosmic energy answered.  Healing warmth flowed through him, pulled from the air before it was converted and funneled into Victoria’s sleeping body.  So thirsty and injured, her unconscious self reacted in turn, pulling at what he offered, trying desperately to shore up empty reserves and repair the damage.

                It caught him unaware.  Gunwoo’s head spun and he felt dizzy.  Falling away, he tried to catch himself.  But it wasn’t until he was pulled from contact with Victoria that her jerked back to awareness.  And hit the ground.  “,” he groaned with a pained grimace.  His vision was swimmy and he felt as weak as a newborn foal, but that was what he got for trying that ungrounded.  “Stupid,” he chided himself, turning watery eyes up to the screen.  He was grateful to be conscious actually – the last time that had happened, Seyong had laughed at him two days later when he finally woke up.  The memory hurt and he winced again, but at least the holoscreen showed fewer dark zones.  She wasn’t fully healed, he knew that, but it was something.

                But he was now useless and ravenous.  With another disgusted and tired shake of his head, he staggered to his feet.  The helpless desire to stay and just watch over them hit him hard, but in his condition, there was nothing he could do.  So, with much internal conversation, he convinced himself to step out and try to find something to eat.

                The anchor room was almost too bright to his sensitive eyes and he frowned.  Turning around immediately, he pictured food and prayed it took him somewhere useful.  The door opened and he stepped into a… kitchen.  A kitchen that had Kibum sitting at the dining table.  He wasn’t paying attention to the door, nursing a cup of what looked to be black coffee.  “How are things go-” he started to ask while looking up, but he stopped midsentence.  “Woo!” he shrieked, the sound ringing in the open space.

                Immediately, the coffee cup was set down and Kibum was up, running to throw himself at Gunwoo.  Reacting by rote, the angel caught him in a surprised hug.  Then he held tight as a nearly incomprehensible stream of words babbled from the human’s mouth.  But the words were only hard to figure out because Kibum was talking so quickly and Gunwoo’s flagging spirits soared.  “I can understand you!” he cried, wrapping his wings around his friend.

                “Me too!” Kibum wailed happily, practically hanging on the other man.

                Gunwoo didn’t know how or why, but he didn’t care.  For the moment, it was enough for him to see a familiar face that he hadn’t thought he would ever again.  It was even better that he could talk to him and be understood.  After the hell he’d been through the past few days, that was the best balm he could have asked for.

                “Are you okay?!” Kibum demanded at last, finally calming himself down enough to speak coherently.  “They wouldn’t let me see you and everyone was so hurt and everybody looked dead and oh my god I was so worried about you!” he practically flailed, stepping back to hold Gunwoo at arm’s length so he could give him a critical once over.

                “I’m fine,” Gunwoo smiled in amusement, hands resting against Kibum’s sides as his wings slipped back into place, brushing the other man’s arms as they did so.  “But… what are you doing here?” he had to ask as the sheer unexpectedness of a human being in the vicinity of a probable Discoverer occurred to him.

                “Oh my god!” Kibum gasped, laughing once as he shook his head.  “So much has happened and I have so much to tell you!”  His smile slipped a bit and he pointed an accusatory finger at Gunwoo.  “You owe me an explanation!”

                “I know,” the Heir cringed, already nodding along.  “But first,” he murmured, pointing into the kitchen with a quiet plea.  His stomach decided to play along and made a strange gurgling sound.

                Kibum’s gaze dropped to Gunwoo’s midsection with a furrowed brow.  Then he looked up, a determined expression in his eyes.  He grabbed Gunwoo’s hand, dragged him to the table and pointed at the nearest chair.  “Sit!” he commanded, bustling into the cooking space like a man on a mission.

                Amused more than offended, Gunwoo did just that and watched as Kibum expertly rifled through the cabinets and fridge.  He half-suspected those doors worked much like the other ones he’d encountered, conjuring whatever the user needed.  But he didn’t ask and he didn’t get up to look.  He just watched as Kibum set about making some kind of food for him.  “You don’t have to, you know?” he tried to offer half-heartedly – Kibum’s cooking was usually better than his to be fair.

                “No but you clearly haven’t been taking care of yourself so now it’s my job, Woo,” he responded tartly without looking back as he focused on his task.  “You are going to eat a solid meal, because you look like death warmed over,” he shot back, finally giving him a mother-hen glare.  “And then you are going to explain this madness to me because Myungsoo is terrible about filling in the blanks,” he scowled, taking his frustrations out on the food.

                Gunwoo’s smile widened and he laughed softly to himself.  “Yes sir,” he saluted good-naturedly, settling back in the chair to wait for food, feeling slightly better about everything.