Some people aren't bothered by it, but I know there are some people that get squicked out by injury descriptions (I'm okay as long as it's not described in gory detail or I don't physically see it), so mind the warnings if stuff like that bothers you~

Chapter Warnings: Serious injury, Blood (Marrow?)

***

Since the three men visited, Goth had become anxious once more.

Palette attempted to distract him with learning about the different objects around the house and learning to read and write. He was pretty quick at learning the names of objects, but reading and writing was a slow process.

By the end of the second week, he'd only managed to learn to read his own name and Palette's name but he was ecstatic nonetheless. The artist made sure to praise his efforts. Encouragement would lead to progression, after all, and everyone had to start somewhere.

Goth was also progressing rapidly in properly wording his sentences as well as expanding his vocabulary, only making a mistake on occasion. He would even pull out a big word every so often, citing that he heard the bad people use it.

At the start of the third week, the small skeleton inquired about the objects outside. Palette surmised it was time for a field trip... a small one. There was no telling if the men were still poking around.

Stepping out the front door, Goth jumped at the feel of the grass on his bare feet and the wind blowing at his oversized shirt. He wiggled his toes, his socket growing wide and a smile beginning to creep along his face.

The next half hour was a repetition of 'what's this?' while Palette busied himself with weeding the garden and picking the ripe vegetables. It had been a while since he'd tended to it or gathered food. Having another mouth to feed was depleting his supplies faster than normal, so he would need to head into town soon.

I don't think Goth would do well with crowds... would I be able to leave him here alone?

Eventually, the inquiries led to a large apple tree. Once Goth learned the apples could be eaten, there was no stopping him from climbing the tree.

Chuckling, Palette went to go get another basket since the one he had was full of vegetables.

By the time he got back, the small skeleton was already a third of the way up the tree. It was actually pretty amazing how good he was at climbing. He was like a little monkey!

Goth picked the apples Palette instructed were the ripe ones and tossed them down... it was a much more efficient system than doing it by himself, where Palette would haul the basket around with him. This method proved much faster at gathering food.

As he climbed higher and higher, Palette began to grow worried about the strength of the branches.

The artist gasped when one bent under the smaller's weight, "Wait, stop-"

His soul stuttered as the limb snapped, sending Goth and the branch plummeting to the ground with a yelp. Before Palette could even move, Goth hit the ground, letting out a gut-wrenching scream.

The branch that had given way landed first, lodging itself in Goth's chest and through his back once he followed, a thin rod dripping red to match his scarf.

"Oh... Oh, stars...," Palette murmured frantically, unsure of what to do.

I know basic first aid, but nothing about impalement! The nearest hospital's more than an hour away, he won't-

"T... take...," Goth wheezed, coughing a light spray of marrow into the grass and catching the other skeleton's attention.

"What is it?" Palette urged, kneeling down.

"Takeitout," He gasped. The artist froze.

Pull it out? But if I do that, he'll bleed out! He'll die!

Receiving a vigorous head shake in disapproval, Goth reached for him with a painfully imploring expression, "P... please... t... takeit... out. Hurts... can'theal... b... blocking... please."

Heal? What...?

Goth whined in discomfort. Despite his better judgment, Palette rolled Goth onto his side, grabbing the stained branch with one hand and steadying Goth with the other. "R... ready?" his voice shook along with his hands as the small monster nodded.

I can't believe I'm doing this...

In a swift motion, the branch was removed. Another howl of pain ripped from the small skeleton, the baggy white shirt quickly becoming soaked in crimson-colored marrow.

Palette reached up to his scarf with unsteady hands, hastily attempting to unwind it for something to block the open holes in his companion's chest and back.

I can wrap his chest and get him in the truck. I might be able to- 

With a grunt, Goth clenched his sockets as light purple magic began to gather around his frame. The artist's movements slowed to a stop.

As he watched, the magic collected at his companion's back... and large black wings formed. Palette continued to stare with wide sockets as the wings glowed softly, along with the area around Goth's chest and back where the branch had been. Slowly but surely, the wounds seemed to disappear, healing right in front of him!

After a minute, the glow faded. The wings lingered, though they were slowly losing their form.

Such long, slender feathers with an ebony sheen. They look like they're dancing in the light. They're beautiful, just like...

"An angel...," Palette whispered.

Goth flinched. "N... no...," the small skeleton gasped sharply, panting from exertion, "n... not... thatword..."

"Why?" the other questioned, confusion replacing awe.

"... Bad p... people... useit... don't... l... likeit..." the skeleton moaned, slightly curling in on himself as the wings dissipated. Palette's mouth clamped shut, expression falling at the mention of the bad people.

Goth's eye sockets began to droop as fatigue washed over him. Picking up the trembling monster, Palette rushed into the house and laid him gently on the bed.

"Come on, Goth, stay with me. I'll figure something out, just...," Palette proclaimed but was at a loss for what to actually do.

I've got nothing. I have no idea what to do!

Goth smiled weakly as tears crept into the Palette's sockets, his voice barely above a whisper when he said, "s'ok... I... okay... jus'tired... can't...d... die... jus'..."

Palette's panic renewed when the small skeleton's voice faded and their sockets closed. It took him a few seconds to realize they were only sleeping.

The skeleton's last words confused him but explained the much of the earlier phenomenon.

He healed himself... and he can't die? He seems to be sleeping, so I guess he's really okay.

Grabbing one of the chairs from the table, he pulled it over to the bed and sat down. Time fell to a crawl as he waited for his companion to rouse once more, with only the sounds of buzzing electricity from the clock radio on his nightstand and the resting skeleton's breathing to keep him company.

---

Four hours later, Goth awoke to a frazzled Palette. After roughly two minutes spent making sure the smaller was actually fine, the worried skeleton requested an explanation for what had transpired.

"I... I have a... an ability, they said," the small monster began slowly, laying on the bed since he was still a bit dizzy, nervously playing with his scarf and refusing eye contact, "I can't be killed... most damage to my body heals by itself... that's why the bad people want me... they want it."

As the explanation wore on, Palette was able to piece together that Goth had the power to heal himself and others, the wings he created earlier making it easier to channel his energy effectively.

He had no idea how he gained this ability, it was there for as long as he could remember and that it was a subconscious reaction of his magic whenever he was injured, as long as there was nothing obstructing the process.

The bad people were trying to figure out how to reproduce his regenerative abilities to use for themselves by performing tests on him... tests that, in Palette's opinion, sounded like flat-out torture.

Palette squirmed as the small skeleton delved into the grim nature of his experiences, not noticing how he'd grabbed Goth's hand and had begun rubbing circles around the hole in it with his thumb when the smaller began tearing up.

The abused skeleton choked out a sob, the memories strangling his thoughts and overwhelming him.

Palette leaned down to pull him upright and into a hug. It was difficult to stomach the idea of his friend being experimented on.

It explains so much of his previously aggressive behavior and nervous quirks...

Goth fell silent, latching onto the other and enjoying the warm arms wrapped around him. Hugs were still a new experience, but certainly a welcome one.

Once he calmed down, Goth wiped his face clean and stood up with a wobble, getting assistance from Palette.

A new problem quickly became apparent, though: Goth needed new clothes. His shirt was ruined by the rusty dark stain surrounding a ragged hole.

Goth was dismayed at the sight, new tears beginning to form. Palette managed to wave off his apologies before he could get too worked up, "It's just a shirt, I have tons of them. At least now we can find something more appropriate."

Something better than an oversized shirt, at least...

Letting the small skeleton rummage through his drawers and wardrobe, Goth eventually pulled out a white coat that was usually reserved for winter. His eye lights shined so brightly as he turned in askance, Palette didn't have the soul to say no. Moreso when he stated his desire to cover himself.

A belt was pulled out alongside some khakis that could be rolled up to fit him and a white tank top. 

To Palette's embarrassment, Goth seemed to have no sense of body-shy, stripping right in front of his host. Trying his best not to stare, Palette helped him into his new clothing, adjusting the belt and rolling up the pant legs so he could move around without tripping.

The clothes were still too big for him, of course, but Goth was too excited to care. He had already been through so much, Palette couldn't take this small happiness away from him.