**Chapter 7: Bound by Vulnerability**

As Magik finished cleaning Psylocke, she gently released her arms and stepped back, her eyes scanning Psylocke's face with an intensity that made her skin crawl. Psylocke lay there, her body still throbbing with pain, her mind reeling with the implications of what had just happened. She felt a wave of shame wash over her, mixed with a deep-seated anger towards Magik, who seemed to be watching her with an unblinking gaze. Magik's expression didn't change, but she seemed to be studying Psylocke with a newfound interest, as if she was trying to understand something that had previously eluded her. She reached for the first-aid kit, her movements economical and precise, and began to tend to Psylocke's wounds with a gentle touch that belied her cold demeanor. As Magik worked, Psylocke couldn't help but feel a sense of unease, as if she was trapped in a nightmare from which she couldn't awaken. She tried to push herself up, to get away from Magik's probing touch, but a sharp pang of pain shot through her side, forcing her back onto the floor. Magik's eyes flicked up, meeting Psylocke's gaze with an unflinching intensity. "You need to rest," she said, her voice low and husky, like a snake slithering through the grass. "You're not in any shape to move." Psylocke tried to respond, but her voice was barely a whisper, her throat dry and sore. She lay back, feeling a wave of exhaustion wash over her, as Magik continued to tend to her wounds with a detached, almost clinical interest. As the minutes ticked by, Psylocke's body began to relax, her pain receding into a dull ache that seemed to throb in time with her heartbeat. She closed her eyes, feeling a sense of resignation wash over her, as if she was trapped in a situation from which she couldn't escape. But as she drifted off into a fitful sleep, Psylocke was aware of Magik's presence, watching over her with an unblinking gaze that seemed to pierce through her very soul. She knew that she was at Magik's mercy, and that thought filled her with a sense of despair that seemed to have no end. When Psylocke woke up, she was surprised to find Magik sitting next to her, a small bowl of food in her hands. The smell of soup wafted up, making Psylocke's stomach growl with hunger. She tried to sit up, but a sharp pang of pain shot through her side, forcing her back onto the floor. Magik's expression didn't change, but she seemed to be studying Psylocke with a newfound interest, as if she was trying to understand something that had previously eluded her. "Eat," she said, her voice low and husky, like a snake slithering through the grass. "You need to eat." Psylocke looked at the bowl of soup, her stomach growling with hunger. She knew that she needed to eat, but a part of her was wary of Magik's intentions. She took a tentative sip of the soup, feeling a wave of relief wash over her as the warm liquid soothed her parched throat. As she ate, Psylocke couldn't help but feel a sense of unease, as if she was trapped in a web of vulnerability from which she couldn't escape. She glanced up at Magik, who was watching her with an unblinking gaze that seemed to pierce through her very soul. Psylocke knew that she was bound to Magik, at least for the time being, and that thought filled her with a sense of trepidation that seemed to have no end.