Malachi would never understand her.

How could anyone so kind truly exist? So understanding, even of someone like him – especially of someone like him. He’d killed her grandfather. He’d done countless things before that, too, and in the time since.

It terrified him, that she could relate to his dependency on his deceased father. Malachi felt more and more like him with every day that passed.

He did not want to be for her what Lyle had been for him.

“…If it would make you feel better to do so,” he relented. There was no way he would ever tell her how he ended up in this state (and try to explain Arthur?), but he knew how important his health was to her.

“I’ll stay in here. I… thank you, Nettie. For the room, and… for everything.”

Nettie smiled softly, she didn't know looking up to him was so troubling. "I think you're a wonderful person. Even though you are fighting your own devils, you still manage to be a wonderful guiding light to those who need it." She kissed his cheek and pulled back slowly, if he didn't want her to leave yet, she would have stayed.

"It would make me feel better. I will get you some supplies. Do you want me to pick up anything else while I'm out? I can go by the church and get you some clean clothes too if you wish?" She wanted to be useful to him and get him anything he needed. "If I run into anyone, what would you like me to tell them? Or shall I just make something up?"

Malachi let his hands fall back to the table’s surface as Nettie pulled away.

“No, I don’t need anything else,” he shook his head, but the movement was slow.

His cassock was freshly cleaned (if he ignored the blood sticking to the inside of it at his chest), and he would return to the church as soon as he felt less liable to ruin his reputation further. Nettie had already gotten the room, after all, and he was exhausted enough to spend his day in it.

“Just tell them… I went for confession.”

Father Richards could not hear his, so it was at least more believable than their head priest being strung out and bloodied in a cheap hotel room.

Nettie nodded. She had something else to ask. She actually had many things, but instead she just smiled and turned to leave. "I'll be back soon. Please eat a bite." She then opened the door and went to get his medical supplies.

He managed a smile in return, but it was the same, slightly off one he’d thrown her way before.

It was the best that he could do, at the moment.

Malachi looked back to the food on the table once his niece had left. He picked at it some, ate what he could – which was not much, but he tried. It was not long after that he wound up on the bed anyway, lured over by the draw of sleep.

He curled in on himself on his side, lying atop all of the blankets and covers, and slept.

When he woke, the supplies were there along with a fresh pitcher of water and a glass. Nettie sat at the table but her head was in her arms, having drifted off as well while waiting for him to wake and not daring to break his much needed rest.

Malachi awoke with a shiver, burning up in the thick layers of his frock. He lifted his head and, upon making (some) sense of where he was and seeing Nettie at the table, pushed himself up to sit at the edge of the bed for a few moments.

Somehow his entire body felt even worse.

With a wince, Malachi moved to the table. He looked distractedly through the supplies before setting a gentle hand on Nettie’s shoulder, and saying, “Nettie?”

Nettie looked up slowly as she felt a touch and her name called. She immediately looked embarrassed and gave a small yawn before she sat straighter. "Sorry. You looked so at peace when you were asleep, and I didn't want to just leave and you might have wanted help with bandaging or something. So I waited for you.."

She offered up a helpless smile and then towards a window but it was covered for his privacy. "How did you sleep?"

“It’s quite alright,” Malachi assured, offering her a small smile as she straightened up.

Having someone to assist him in cleaning and bandaging his wounds would be… ideal, yes, but did he really want her to see the extent of it?

“I slept well,” he answered honestly. “I am still tired, though. Ah… I can take care of bandaging myself, though, really. I don’t want to bother you with that.”

Nettie knew better. "It's very difficult to bandage your hands. If you don't want my help, let me do that at least?"

They were quite a sight, and while they couldn't do much for the bruising, it was the cuts that were needed her help. "I'll leave afterwards so you can have your dignity. " for that was all she could imagine that he wouldn't accept the help to make it easier.

She watched him for a moment, and she could recall even as a child, this towering quiet figure with the patience of a Saint. He always was in his own mind except when she needed him. And here he was, needing help bit preferring to do it alone.

"I can always . . . Wait outside if you prefer? In case you change your mind?" How she yearned to know who did this to him. She couldn't ask around, people would put things together. She had to be quiet and hope it didn't repeat itself.