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He feels more than sees Dorothea collapse.
One moment she's beside him and the next she's crying out in pain and stumbling back against him. Felix's blood turns to ice.
He should've been paying attention.
He wasn't; damn it, he wasn't and now Dorothea is bleeding, clutching at her abdomen even though it spills through her fingers anyway. She looks pale at the sight. Felix swallows hard.
Ashe notices; he's close, and he fires off two quick arrows. One lodges itself in the enemy's throat and Felix is barely paying attention but he still hears the gurgle of his blood as he chokes on it.
"I'll cover you!" he calls, and then immediately turns to pick off another thief trying to sneak up on him.
Reassured, Felix kneels beside her. He's a good shot, faster than most, but they should still be quick about this. The rest of the army is far ahead by now; were reinforcements to arrive from behind, Felix is sure he and Ashe wouldn't be able to hold them off alone, much less while protecting an injured Dorothea.
"Sit still," he says, his voice far more even than he expected it to be. He tugs his gloves off with his teeth, spitting out the taste of blood.
"I'm fine," Dorothea says. "Just a scratch."
She's fooling no one. Her brow is creased with pain, as hard as she's trying to hide it, and a bead of sweat traces down her jaw.
"Humor me," he replies. "And don't jump in front of me anymore."
Her eyebrows go up. "I'm sorry, what should I have done? Let him cleave through your back unhindered?"
"I could've handled it." It's a lie. He wasn't paying attention, and he's lucky someone was. "If you hadn't been a fool you would've been fine."
"And you would've been dead!" she cries, then winces and leans back again, her shoulder pressing heavily into the wall.
"And you still could be, so sit still!" he snaps, trying to hide how the idea makes his breath stop dead in his chest.
Her mouth curls into a frown but she does as she's told, lifting her hand and allowing Felix to press his own to the wound. He's glad for the faith training now, but it's still difficult to—
"Felix!"
Byleth's voice cracks through the din like a whip. Felix can't help but jolt, which only serves to pull at Dorothea's injury and make her wince.
"I'm busy!" he calls back, taking his hands from Dorothea and rubbing them on his pants to hide the way they shake.
She notices, of course she does. "I'm right here, Felix."
Despite how she grimaces and pales even further with the effort, she sits up and takes his hands in her own, gently guiding them to her side and pressing down. Dorothea's hands are cool. She can't be well enough to do so, but she quietly murmurs the spell with him, and even though she's hurt her hands still glow with magic against his own, the rune lighting up the space between them.
"FELIX HUGO!"
Felix flinches this time and his heart pounds against his ribs and he shouts, louder than he's shouted anything in his life, "CAN'T YOU SEE I'M FUCKING BUSY?!"
Dorothea's cold hands leave his in favor of cupping his face and drawing his attention back. Her gaze is grounding. He draws a deep breath and lowers his forehead to her chest. At this angle, all he can see is her hip, the blood soaking into the sanguine fabric of her dress.
Despite that, her heart beats steadily and he matches its tempo, muttering the spell again and again until his voice stops shaking, until her wound stops pulsing under his fingers. They come away sticky with drying blood but the skin underneath is whole again. As if it had never happened.
Dorothea's hands, still on his face, tug him up just enough to press a kiss to his forehead. "See? I'm just fine."
Felix clenches his jaw. "You almost weren't."
"But I am," she repeats, her mouth still close enough that he can feel her breath ghost over him. "Because I have an amazing partner."
Felix looks at her, meets her gaze, still wary and uncertain. "Don't scare me like that again."
Her lips quirk up into a smile. "Aw, but I like having you fuss over me."
"Don't," he insists, grabbing her arms and leaning in closer, until his own breath puffs back at him.
The smile slips off her face. Felix is only a little sad to see it go. "Promise. Cross my heart and hope to—" Something in his expression must give her pause, because she stops, then amends, "—cross my heart."
He realizes, then, how tightly he's been gripping her arms. He releases them with a muttered, "sorry," and he turns and reaches for his gloves just to have something to do with his hands, other than thinking about how they're covered in blood—Dorothea's blood.
"...Felix, I—"
He looks at her. It's rare that she's lost for words like this, even rarer that it shows on her face.
"We'd better hurry," she says instead. "Byleth sounded like he was in trouble."
He tugs his gloves on and nods shortly. "Right." He pauses while she gets to her feet. There's a slash in her dress now, and dried blood on her hip underneath. "Be more careful."
Dorothea opens her mouth like she wants to argue, but after a moment of searching his face she closes it again. "You too."
For all the things she tries to hide, Felix can still read her. She'd do it again, he's certain of it. He knows her too well. He has to turn away from her, from that gaze, it's too—the battlefield is no place for this.
"Come on. We need to get moving. Ashe is waiting for us."
He should've known it wouldn't be that easy. She doesn't say anything, but she does catch up to him, and she does take his hand in her own, as if to reassure him. Or maybe to reassure herself.
Still. When she squeezes his hand, maybe he does squeeze back. Maybe they both need it.