WHO Brigit & Will Scarlet WHEN Wednesday afternoon WHERE Will and Alan’s apartment WHAT the touch of a healing hand WARNINGS
When Brigit was contacted by Francis to put her healing powers to good use, the goddess-cum-saint was thrilled at the opportunity. There always seemed to be so few changes to put that side of herself to use these days, and she missed it. And that it was a member of the Merry Men piqued her interest even more. Brigit was, after all, the patron saint of fugitives, and it didn’t get much more fugitive than living in the woods to escape the law.
Dressed all in red and with her red hair loose and wild in the breeze, Brigit showed up at the address of the apartment where the young man was to be - most of them felt young to her - and knocked on the door.
To say that Will was eager to have this trauma lifted from him was an understatement. Since coming home from the doctor the day before, and the prospect of weeks to months of headaches and not being able to do any fun things at all, he’d been in a funk, just lying in bed and trying to think of ways around this. The books from Luna were a distraction, but while he was feeling sorry for himself it was hard to properly focus on anything.
When the knock came, Will was up as quickly as he could manage, flinging the door wide to welcome his saviour in.
“Hello!” he said, squinting a little in the afternoon sunlight. “Saint Brigit, right?”
“Please,” she told him, waving a hand in dismissal. “Just Brigit. I don’t need going in for all that saints and titles malarky.” She pronounced her name in the American way, as she had done for many years. It was easier to be Bridget than to be constantly correcting people to breej or bride, depending on how the mood struck her. Although her accent was unmistakably Irish, she considered herself somewhat American by now. Just like so many other Irish who had crossed the seas.
Looking at his poor busted up face, Brigit realised she recognised him. Pointing with a smile she said, “Ah, I know you from online. You and your mate were the ones I was talking to about vaginas with teeth, aye?”
Will raised an eyebrow. “Uh… I guess we did do that. I can only but apologise. Won’t you come in?” He stepped back to allow her into the apartment. “I’m not hugely familiar with a lot of saints, so you may have to excuse me my manners. I’m a very lapsed Christian, if I’m honest. Can I get you some tea or coffee?”
“No need for apologies,” Brigit said with a bright smile as she entered Will’s home. “I was very amused, and I think I might have started that conversation anyways.”
“A cuppa tea’d be grand,” Brigit agreed, “but probably we should look to your pains first. Can’t have you serving on others in this state.”
She approached to look at him. “Don’t you worry about being lapsed. In honesty, I’m only really half a saint.” She winked at him. “And it’s the goddess half of me that knows how to do the healing, so that Christian god has no hand in it.”
“Oh, well we should be fine then,” Will said. “How do you want me? Should I sit?” He indicated the sofa. He hoped they didn’t waste time on pleasantries too much, his head was throbbing right behind his eyes and it was highly distracting. He went to set the kettle boiling and came back, not wanting to deprive anyone of a good cup of tea.
“You sit down,” she told him, going over to the sofa. “Now try and relax and tell me exactly where your pains are.” She was rubbing her hands together, warming them up a little more. Brigit’s skin always ran just a touch warmer than others, but it needed to get hotter now.
“My head. Just- my whole head.” Will indicated the problem. “Concussion, nose, black eye, tooth. Uh- And…” The headache made it hard to think. “My knees are sore. My guts give me pains. The bruises, and- I don’t know if something else is wrong in there. Um… I think that’s it?”
“You’ve really been in the wars,” Brigit told him with a shake of her head as she sat down on the coffee table so she could be in front of Will.
“Well,” she said, rubbing her hands together a little more and smiling at him. “We’re gonna have you good as new.” Holding her hands a few inches apart from each other, the palms began to glow brightly and then silent flames licked between her fingers, from her palm, from beneath her nails. “I promise this won’t hurt,” she assured him, moving her hands closer and laying them on his chest as she closed her eyes.
The magical flames caused no pain to anyone who was touched by them. They were hot, but it was the comforting heat of a fire behind glass on a winter’s night, and not the scorching pain of a flame against flesh.
As she sat with those burning hands against him, Brigit focused on the things he had said and sought those injuries out with her mind, smoothing them over as she came across them.
She had never healed herself like this, but she had been told that it was both mildly uncomfortable to feel injuries stitching themselves back together, but also like sinking peacefully into a hot bath at the same time. She’d always thought it somewhat fitting that the healing powers of a contradictory woman such as herself should be somewhat contradictory to describe.
Will was a little surprised at the warmth. He hadn’t been expecting flames of healing, but it wasn’t unpleasant. He felt warm all over for a moment, and then the healing started.
His face itched, and his gut was squirming, like soft caterpillars below the surface as burst blood vessels knitted themselves whole again. There was a soft pop as his nose reset itself, which Will winced at, and his shoulder joint felt like it needed a good crack.
The strangest was his head. The throbbing increased exponentially until he thought something was going to burst- and it did, in a way, because suddenly he felt fine. No nagging nausea, no painful fog, just his normal self without pain or tiredness.
“Is that it? Am I done?” he asked, blinking and looking down at her hands.
Brigit drew her hands away and the flame and glow slowly receded until they looked like the hands of any mortal woman. “You’re done,” she confirmed, standing up and moving back so that he had space. “How do you feel?”
“I think- I think I feel okay. I feel good.” His hands went to his nose and he pulled the gauze and tape away to feel at the smooth, even skin underneath. His eyes didn’t feel puffy. His head felt clear, and he could move it without feeling twinges of pain. There was even a tooth regrown in the space where the old one had been ripped out. He reached down to yank up his shirt and run a hand over the clear, unblemished skin and muscles below. “Thank you,” he said in wonder.
Brigit's smile was one of pride and the pleasure of seeing someone feeling better because of her own work. "You're most welcome, Will Scarlet," she told him. "Anything for a friend. Or," she corrected, considering the line of it. "A friend... of a friend... of my friend."
“If there’s anything I can do to repay you,” Will started to say, flexing his shoulders. He hadn’t felt so good in too long. He felt like he wanted to run around and jump and just get moving again, so full of energy was he.
“I’ll have that cuppa,” Brigit told him, sitting down on the couch as she watched him try out his repaired body. “Be gentle with it for the next three hours or so. Sometimes things keep healing after I take my hands off and you don’t want to upset them.”
“Sure, sure,” Will said, only half listening. Even the scars on his knuckles from when he punched the door a few weeks ago were gone. “Cup of tea, coming up. But if you ever need a favour from Will Scarlet, you only have to ask.” He practically skipped to the kitchen to put the kettle on and get out a couple of mugs.
“I’ll be keeping that in mind,” Brigit said, and she would. It was always useful to have people in this world who would help you out. She wasn’t sure what a Merry Man of Sherwood Forest could do for her, but she’d take him up on the offer if it was needed.