the words ring in shane's ears. oh, god. don't let it be one of his own. he skates through crowded chaos to see what's happening on the other end. it was a boston player. a sick sense of relief washes over him for just a few seconds. then he sees it. 81. no. that can't be right. he was just standing. he just scored. he was fine. they move him onto his back. he's still. too still.
"what the fuck?" shane mutters under his breath. for once in his life, he doesn't overthink it. it was rare, but players had collapsed before. overheating. dehydration. he finds hayden and puts a hand on his shoulder, more to steady himself than anything. shane opens his mouth to speak, but he's interrupted.
"hey, i don't have a pulse!" one of the trainers shouts, maybe a bit too loud in this packed arena. everyone hears it. they'd all been holding their breath the moment rozanov went down.
shane's knees wobble.
"starting compressions." the trainer is on top of him instantly, full gear still in place. "trauma shears! now! get EMS on the ice." the ice floods with movement. players are asked to back off. most of montreal goes back to their bench, several boston players stay on the ice. they form somewhat of an arch around him for privacy. shane stays. hayden stays.
the cameras redirect their attention to anything else. kneeling players. the crowd. a far shot where the compressions aren't visible. "our medical care team is currently attending to ilya rozanov. we will give you live updates as we have them." the broadcasters keep it short, both to respect privacy and avoid a lawsuit.
they have ilya's gear torn off in seconds. helmet first, then gloves. shears cut through his jersey and pads like they're made of paper. they readjust, hands directly over his heart now instead of struggling through pads. his bare skin looks pale next to the ice.
"get EMS in here. get defib ready. can i get a bag valve mask?" the trainers all talk over each other. it's controlled chaos.
shane doesn't even notice how tightly he's holding onto hayden. the color drains from his face at the sight of it all. his mouth hangs open, words not coming. his entire body shakes violently, silent tears spilling from both eyes. "hayden." he finally manages, weight shifting forward just a bit.
"shane." hayden moves to stand in front of him, hand steady on his arm. "you good, dude?" he studies his face. colorless, tear-stained, horrified, eyes unblinking. "hey. they've got him. they know what they're doing." he has to steady him again as he wavers. "shane— fuck. sit down."
shane's knees give out all at once. hayden catches him halfway, lowering him onto the ice. he'd rather have him on the bench, but he couldn't move shane by himself. nobody looks twice. all eyes are on rozanov.
"asystole. restart compressions." somebody confirms after the first round. they've got the defibrillator pads on him, but they're useless for now. "respirations are agonal. bag him." an ambu bag is sealed tightly over his face. his chest raises for the first time, but it's exaggerated. mechanical. artificial.
"i can't breathe." shane heaves, panic settling into his chest. his eyes don't move from ilya. the way the compressions seem too harsh, the way his head jostles loosely with every movement. it's horrifying to watch. but impossible to look away.
"yes, you can. stay with me, dude. shane." hayden undoes shane's chin strap, pulling his helmet off and setting it next to him on the ice. he's drenched. "in for four, out for eight." unfortunately, it wasn't the first time hayden was guiding shane through a panic attack. he watches shane swallow and shake his head. "you gotta calm it down. he's—"
"—he's in v-fib. shock advised. charge to 200. everybody clear!" everyone backs up. a paramedic hovers with the gurney, ready to move. the shock is fast, violent. his entire body arches against the ice. then, nothing. "restart compressions."
"holy fuck." shane gasps, entire body jolting in sync with ilya's as the shock is administered. he tries to draw in a breath, but it catches on something between a sob and a gag. "i'm gonna pass out."
"don't watch." hayden moves again, trying to block his view. shane's eyes look almost as empty as ilya's. "nope. okay. lay down."
shane doesn't have the strength to argue. hayden gets him on his back gently before he can go out on his own. the overhead lights are blinding, disorienting. it's harder to breathe like this. shane's chest continues to heave, breaths coming faster and more shallow now. "he's okay!" hayden shouts to the montreal bench once they get a few looks. nobody moves.
the cameras aren't as forgiving. one of them zooms in on shane, losing it flat on the ice. "is hollander down, too?" a pause. no. they can see he's awake. "shane hollander clearly very distressed by the situation. say what you will about their rivalry, but these guys have been playing together since '09. there's got to be some admiration there." somebody shuts it down. why respect ilya's privacy, but not shane's?
"rhythm check." everybody freezes. the arena has stayed silent this entire time. everyone holds their breath. "v-fib. shock advised. charge to 200 again."
shane can only hear the shock this time. hayden is right there with him, keeping a hand on his chest to keep him down. "it's okay, bud."
"i've got a pulse. it's thready, but it's there. still no respirations. let's move." they move ilya onto the stretcher like he's weightless. all the equipment comes with them. they are down the tunnel in moments. a few people awkwardly clap, unsure if it's the right thing to do or not.
"they got him back." hayden assures shane. it barely helps. he's already too shaken from what he's seen tonight.
"i'm gonna pass out, dude." shane repeats in between gasps. "i can't feel my hands."
that's the sentence that makes hayden's stomach drop a little. he motions to one of the trainers who had been with ilya just seconds prior. "hey! can i get some help over here?" hayden calls out. the entire boston team turns around. some of the metros players move to standing. hayden turns his attention right back to shane. "stay with me, shane. you're gonna be fine. rozanov is gonna be fine." he hates that he can't promise that last sentence. but he had to try. "we're gonna get you some help now."
SUMMARY: At the tail end of the surge, Teagan heads to Arden's and discovers a group of vampires feeding on her. Emilio finds her amidst the carnage soon after.
WARNINGS: Death (Actively dying), Vampire Feeding, Mention of CPR (no detail)
Teagan's eyes were irritated and tired, the edges inflamed from scrubbing her anxious tears she shed the night before. She sighed, a puff of smoke trailing up from her lips as she walked toward Worm Row. Her carton was nearly gone, only her lucky stogee remaining. Normally, Teagan could make a pack last two weeks, but these weren't normal times to be living in, and the nix hardly had the strength to keep herself from overdoing it.
The last two blocks came up before Arden's apartment building, a small liquor store and flower stand on the corner. As promised, Teagan went inside and went to buy her favorite bottle of whiskey. She was happy, hopeful, and ready to take the leap back into their relationship despite how nauseous she felt at the possibility of ruining everything again. When she grabbed the bottle, her happiness grew, that moment just a small one in the incoming ones that would lead to forever.
And then that moment ended.
A body was slumped on the ground of the store, growling filling up the room. She could smell the iron before she saw it, and then quickly came to realize that her glamour was all but gone again. She tore off her headphones and her eyes widened.
The surge was supposed to have ended, my friend said…Teagan thought.
As quietly as she could, the nix abandoned her shopping and made a break to Arden's apartment. Screams were engulfing the streets, terror grappling everyone running from creatures and the like. Teagan picked up her pace, lungs aching and heart pounding. She didn't stop until she made it to Arden's building. There was still chaos there too, but the nix didn't hesitate to run toward it.
Especially not when she could hear Arden screaming for help.
In front of the stairs leading into the apartment building, a group of vampires growled and hissed, tugging at Arden's arms in a twisted game of tug of war. They lamented, one by one, slowly regaining control over themselves before they ran off.
Briefly, Teagan tried to believe that Arden was a stranger and all she needed to do was call the authorities and then she could go up to Arden's flat. She would go up there, and they would be together again. A happy ending to a story with a tragic beginning. But that was not meant to be.
“Arden?!” Teagan shrieked, looking at the muss of black hair growing lost in the blood that bloomed beneath her head, spreading like ink. “Arden!” She shrieked, dropping the bottle and flowers in her rush, glass and petals exploding across the pavement. Shakily, Teagan rushed Arden into her lap. She was breathing, but just barely. “Baby, what happened? I'm here.” A gentle hand caressed the back of Arden's hair, “I'm here.”
The chaotic events of that evening had all passed by in such a surreal blur that Arden wasn’t entirely convinced that it hadn’t all just been a dream. It was only the sharp shooting pain of fangs ripping into her throat, that really brought her back into her body, into the utter fucking mess that was transpiring around her. Like adjusting the focus on her camera, it all became clearer, sharper, more real– the smell of blood, the horrifying sounds of death, the cruelty hanging in the air, the overwhelming, nauseating fear, and, fuck, the pain.
There was no restraint, no precision to the bite of the vampires that had thrown her to the ground and started all this mess. Her acerbic remarks had come back to bite her in the ass, somewhat literally, as the vampires tore into her. She could only gasp, a strangled whine escaping her open mouth at the initial bite. But the sharp, throbbing pain quickly turned searing as he fed.
The world had begun to turn hazy again, but then Teagan had appeared. She had helped her sit up, told her to breathe, that she was going to call for help. There had been no point in trying to convince her she was okay, so she remained quiet, focused on her breathing.
It should have filled her with some hope, some relief, to hear a familiar voice, but Arden was acutely aware of her neck wound. The pain had dulled into a throbbing, but with each throb she could feel the blood trickling out through her fingers. Each breath she took felt that much more difficult, and the haziness that much more intense. Her head swam as she reached out to Teagan clumsily. There was relief in seeing her, alive– still alive, but doing much more than caressing her cheek seemed Herculean at that moment, which was pretty worrying. How much blood had she lost? She wasn’t sure, but, man, there was a lot of blood dripping down her good arm. How much blood could a person lose before it was really bad? She struggled to recall– she’d never been one for biology. She was pretty sure the average adult had less than 2 gallons, which only made her picture a soda bottle full of blood. A nauseating image, certainly.
The throbbing was getting more intense, faster, as fear began to build in her chest. This was bad, wasn’t it? Was she going to die? Panicking was not helpful, but she couldn’t stop her thoughts from running rampant. Had she agreed to restart with Teagan and reconnect with everyone only just to die? If so, they were all going to blame themselves, that was for fucking sure. She’d have to become a ghost and haunt them into stopping– especially Emilio. She breathed out a laugh at the thought.
Sitting upright was becoming difficult, her body too heavy. Arden tipped back onto her back, hissing out in pain as she jostled around. With the pain came some clarity through the haze, and, yeah, this was bad. Her vision was hazy, though she couldn’t be sure if that was simply the tears or not. She’d need some medical attention soon or…
I don’t wanna die.
It hit her, hard, and she let out a quiet whimper, body shivering. She’d just come back, just reconnected with Leah, she was making friends again, feeling again, loving again. God, Teagan…
Another broken sort of whimper escaped from her throat. The tears felt cold against her temples in the night air. She wanted Leah, hell, she wanted her mom. She especially wanted her dad. Would she see him? Would she see Jo? She desperately wanted to and desperately wanted not to. She didn’t want to die.
“Please…”
She was startled by a familiar voice, and her eyes shot open, though she hadn’t remembered closing them. She blinked away the tears, but it was dark and she was seeing spots. The accent, though…
“Teagan?” The words felt awkward on her tongue. “Feel like shit.”
“This will hurt.” Teagan said, ignoring the way even the sight of Arden's blood made her stomach turn. She applied pressure to the biggest of Arden's wounds, not caring how the iron stung. It was warm despite how cold Arden was getting. “Baby, keep breathing please.” She took out her phone, dialing 9-1-1. “I'm c-calling someone. We have to get you to the hospital.” She didn't mention how the line was busy.
Arden’s eyes stung, tears brimming once again. How many years had she been alone? Wasted time. And for what? It was nice to know she wasn’t right now. And of everyone here, Teagan was probably the best one to find her in such a state. Zack or Wynne would panic, and Emilio would drown in guilt. Though, it couldn't be easy to see someone you loved dying.
She emitted a strangled groan as her…girlfriend? very firmly clamped her hand around the wound, though now she felt the pressure more than the pain. That was probably the… adrenaline was the word she wanted, right? Or shock. One of those.
“Hospital.” Arden hummed in agreement. Hospital was definitely needed. It took far too much effort to just raise her arm, nausea curling up her chest. “Hospital,” She nodded weakly.
She had tried to fight, tried to help her neighbors, and she’d managed to get a few hits in, but even with Metzli’s training it had been one human versus three vampires. Some of the defensive moves had saved her at least twice tonight, but, well, she was still here fuckin’ bleeding out, wasn’t she?
“‘S everyone else okay? Alive?” And a moment later, “Thanks fer coming.” Because she hadn’t expressed that yet, hadn’t had the chance to in the chaos. “”N sorry fer all the blood,” she added, an afterthought.
Teagan looked around, more dead bodies draped across the street. She decided not to answer. Arden needed to focus on herself. “Save your energy. Don't be sorry. I'm sorry.” She should've been there sooner. “I love you. I never stopped loving you.”
Arden had always been dry in her delivery, sarcastic in the face of danger to hold her fear behind it. In other words, she lied to herself. Teagan didn't understand it, but she could almost empathize with it. Where their heart ended, their head paid the rest of the balance, bringing a sense of appreciation for her efforts. Sometimes lies were necessary so that the spark of hope didn't fizzle out.
Teagan didn't answer her question, but Arden didn't prod further. She hummed in acknowledgment at everything else, trying to breathe through the woozy feeling of the possibility that Teagan's statement of love might be the last. Her eyes fluttered shut, then open, thumb blindly brushing against Teagan's cheek. “I love you.”
As the pain dulled, the haze came back with a vengeance.“’M buyin’ you a drink and dinner– ‘Milio ‘n Wynne ‘n Zack, too.” A pause. “Wait, d’you want that? A date?”
“Yes, all the dates, love. All of them.” Teagan nodded vehemently. “Just stay with me. Stay here with me. Save your energy and stay here with me.”
No more talking.
Arden tried to swallow down the feeling that she had done something wrong. She hated being chastised, it made her feel like a child again, being spoken down to by her mother. Then again, she was often being spoken down to when it came to her mother– it was why they barely spoke, why she never willingly initiated conversations. Though it was much more difficult to avoid those conversations now that she was back home. And now there was Teagan who did wonder about her relationship with her mother.
God, she was so tired.
“Please don't go. I need you. I'm here.” Teagan pulled Arden closer and rose to her feet with her in her arms. She shuffled her way back into the building until her back was flush against it, sliding down so they were slightly hidden.
Had Teagan said something? Arden was in her arms. Were they moving? It was hard to tell when the whole world seemed to be spinning. She was supposed to be doing something, right? It was hard to recall, her mind sluggish, her body so incredibly heavy. Keeping her eyes open had been a struggle before, but now it was impossible. Besides, she was fairly certain that she’d just end up getting sick if she opened them then.
Her dad had carried her like this when she was little. When she’d fallen asleep while reading or doing homework or something– when she’d been sick, too– he'd pick her up and tuck her into bed. She remembered, one time, huddling under blankets while snow fell outside; it'd been a snow day at school. She was too cold, aching throat, mind foggy. She had fallen asleep watching a movie and woken as she was jostled, being carried to her bed. He'd tucked her in, taken her temperature, given her medicine. A hand on her head, a reassuring smile, the comfort of her bed.
…
Her bed. Arden missed her bed. Soft sheets and a purring Hobbes and curling into Teagan's arms; Warmth.
They were the last thoughts on her mind as everything faded away.
“Arden?” She had gone still, no longer breathing. “Arden!” Teagan shambled Arden to the ground and began compressions, desperately trying to bring her back. “Please!” Arden's blood was sticky as it painted Teagan's skin, aching and stinging. She didn't care. She kept beat, wailing in desperation.
—
The surge left the same way it arrived — all at once. It was like a cold bucket of water poured atop his head. One moment, Emilio was all rage, the fire in his chest burning so hot and so bright that there was no space around it for anything but ash. The next, he was himself again, or as close to it as he had ever been since his death. His hands were bloody; his throat hurt; the pieces of what he’d done slotted back into place like a fucked up jigsaw puzzle, the completed picture one of such intense self hatred that he felt sick under the weight of it.
He wasn’t far from home, he realized. He certainly hadn’t started out here. He remembered being in Eve’s body storage facilities, remembered the rage flowing through him, remembered smashing and pounding even if he did not remember much beyond it. He must have broken out at some point; whatever part of his mind remained anything close to human in that state must have led him home, because he wasn’t far from his apartment now. It was lucky, in a way; Emilio wasn’t in much a state for walking, his bad leg clearly even unhappier with him now than it had been after the last surge, when he’d walked around on it more or less nonstop for the full twelve hours. He couldn’t quite tell how long it had been. It felt like early evening now, and it had been early evening when the surge started, too, but he disliked the idea of it having lasted the full day.
He pushed the thought to the side, beginning the walk back home with his bad leg dragging along behind him. Each step ached a little more than the last; he thought when he got home, he’d probably collapse onto the couch for as long as his mind would let him. He’d never been good at sitting still for very long, so it would probably amount to a few hours at the most, but maybe when it was over, he’d feel better. (He knew it was a lie; Emilio rarely felt ‘better.’)
The streets were chaos, full of people screaming and sobbing. Emilio hated himself all the more for walking by, but he knew there was little he could do to help. The violence was finished, and he’d been a part of it. The blood had already been spilled, and he’d been one of the people spilling it. He was no help to any of these people, and the last thing any of them needed was another monster.
But… as he got closer to his building, one of the voices crying out was a familiar one. He felt his stomach drop, felt his throat clench shut. Teagan. As best he could with his bad leg all but useless, Emilio picked up the pace, moving towards the shape of the nymph out in the street. It took him a moment to recognize the body she was cradling; when he did, his stomach churned. Even covered in blood and unmoving, Arden was recognizable.
For a moment, he was back in Mexico. He was stumbling through streets that looked an awful lot like the ones stretching around him now, covered in blood and bodies. He was stumbling into his house, was finding Juliana dead on the floor. The wounds in her throat had looked a lot like the ones in Arden’s, which told him all he needed to know about who had done this. What had done this. Emilio shook the memory away, grunting as he forced himself down onto the ground.
“What happened?” He demanded, placing a hand on Arden’s bloody neck to stop more blood from slipping out. It was only when his skin made contact with hers that he recognized there was no pulse beating beneath his palm.
—
Teagan was shaking, pale as the moon. She watched Emilio walk up to her and Arden, but she didn't truly register his presence until he touched Arden's neck. “No!” She gasped, clutching Arden closer to her chest, nose buried in her hair. “Don't take her. Please don't take her.” Teagan hyperventilated, bargaining with Emilio as if he had any say in who lived or died. He wasn't Death, though for a moment, the nix thought he might be. Until he spoke at least.
“She was…we were meeting so we could…” Teagan choked, broken by the fact that all she could use was past tense in regards to the only person she'd ever truly loved and loved her back with just as much intensity. Just as much conviction. Arden never gave up on Teagan, even if she had every right to. She gave their relationship another chance despite every red flag telling her she shouldn't. Now, all of that opportunity was gone, and Arden was just a body. Everything that made her had drifted away.
And all Teagan could be was sorry, like always.
“I-I-I tried to-to bring her back. She…she didn't–Waves, fuck, why?!” The nix wailed, “We had plans, we had–we had…!” Had. That was the problem, out of the many choking Teagan. It had such a tight grip on her that she couldn't move past it long enough to realize Arden needed to be moved, that there was a cat upstairs waiting for his owner to return. She wouldn't. She wouldn't return to her cat, she wouldn't lay in her bed, she wouldn't brush her hair, she wouldn't do anything, and Teagan couldn't wrap her head around why.
“Why is this happening?! Why?!” It came out in a strangled scream.
—
Teagan was hysterical. It struck Emilio, though he didn’t quite have the right word for it. He recognized the pitch of her voice, the way she couldn’t quite get a full sentence out. It reminded him, with a painful jolt, of himself in Mexico, of the way the air got thin around him and the world seemed tilted on the wrong axis. Even now, years later, he hadn’t quite figured out how to right it for himself. He knew he couldn’t right it for Teagan, either.
He couldn’t let himself look at Arden, whose skin was already growing cold beneath his hand. His throat felt sore, his throat ached, and if he’d had a heart in his chest it would have been pounding. Arden was his friend, too; one of the first he’d made after Mexico, one of the first people who’d made him feel like a person again. He doubted he’d have made it as long as he had without her. Arden was his friend, and she was dead now.
But Teagan was his friend, too, and she was still alive. She was still alive, and Emilio could do something about that. Later, he could fall to pieces and hate himself for being too late, for being out hurting people instead of home where he might have been able to do some good. Right now, all there was to do was swallow his grief.
That was okay. He was good at that, too.
“I don’t know,” he told Teagan honestly, still not looking at the body. (He couldn’t think of the body as Arden; if he did, he’d never make it through.) “I don’t know why this happened, but we can’t — We can’t stay in the street. Let me carry her upstairs. To mine. Okay? You come, too.”
—
“Move?” The fae’s head stuttered robotically as her gaze rose to meet Emilio’s. He was broken too, she could tell, but he was holding it all back while she battled with her newborn grief. “I can’t. What if…” It became real, she meant to finish. Once Arden’s body was lifted away, it was impossible for Teagan to know exactly how she’d react. She was half-past inconsolable already, her heartbreak tangible in her arms.
She swallowed, “I’ll carry her.” Her body twitched in her first attempt to move, her left leg asleep from the position she’d been sitting in. It felt like stars were bouncing endlessly inside her nerves, demanding her body to wake from the nightmare Teagan had found herself in.
Oh how Arden loved the stars, the nix recalled.
They had once taken a walk, staring up at the sky between moments. Later that night, the two of them watched the Titanic because when Teagan asked, Where to next? Arden replied with wonder, To the stars!
A romantic tragedy, she called it. A story not unlike the one Teagan was living right then. The kind you wanted to rewrite the ending to. The kind you reread in hopes of some sort of change, but the end was cemented so deeply that no amount of unexpectation could continue the pen into the next chapter.
“I’ve got her.” Teagan murmured as she stood slowly, the stars in her leg dissipating as quietly and subtly as Arden’s last breath, sinking into the cold like a body falling away from a floating door. “I’ve got her,” She said again, lips still pressed against Arden’s hair. “To the stars.”
—
He’d delivered a body to a client once. That wasn’t the sort of thing that happened often, though Emilio frequently found corpses in response to his missing persons cases. That was the nature of the town, was the expected end result when someone disappeared. But most of the time, when he found a body, he let things go through a more official channel. He called the coroner from the nearest public phone, was usually gone by the time they showed up to avoid suspicion. Later, he’d go to the morgue and slip someone a twenty, and he’d tie up the loose ends. If the cause of death was clearly supernatural, that first call was often to Eve rather than the coroner’s office, but the end result was typically the same. He found bodies, but he didn’t usually do much with them.
But he’d delivered a body to a client once, when their partner was so clearly inhuman that a call to the coroner would have brought up too many questions and a call to Eve risked the body disappearing without a trace. He’d cleaned the corpse as well as he’d known how, had the client meet him somewhere he could get it without too many questions being asked, and he’d laid it out on the ground to wait for them. He remembered the way their knees trembled when they saw it, remembered the way their breath caught around a sob. She looks like she’s sleeping, they’d said, and Emilio had only known how to nod.
In his head, though, he’d been thinking of Juliana. He’d been thinking of her body on the floor of the living room, of the way it was arranged. She had not been thrown to the ground with any sort of care when the vampires who killed her had their fill. She had not been carefully laid out for him to find. She had not looked like she was sleeping.
Arden didn’t look like she was sleeping, either.
She was in Teagan’s arms, was being cradled so carefully, and she looked dead. She did not look peaceful, did not look frozen in time, did not look like the burdens of the world had been lifted from her shoulders or like she was no longer in pain or like any of the platitudes people offered when someone was gone and an empty space filled the one where they had once been. She looked dead, she was dead, and the world was emptier. She was dead, and Emilio was emptier, too. So was Teagan. And when they found out, Zack and Wynne would be, too. Emilio pushed the thoughts aside, pushed all of it aside. There was a task to be accomplished, and he could focus on that first.
He watched Teagan stand, watched her hold the body. He’d have been able to carry it easier, he knew; the activities the surge had forced him into had provided him with a hefty meal, and he was stronger now than he had been since the last blackout sent him on a killing spree. But he thought of Juliana, and the way holding her body was the closest he’d been able to come to holding her when she was gone, and so he did not reach for the corpse. Instead, he made a simple offer: “I can take her if she gets heavy.”
And then, he guided Teagan towards the door.
—
As they walked into the building and made their way into the elevator, everything trembled. Teagan's grasp, her vision, her breathing, but never her strength. Arden was held firmly against her, not a moment spent wavering despite her mind wondering, was this truly her next chapter?
An unedited and poor showcase of what was and was not fair in the world. Arden never hurt anyone. She surrounded herself with monsters and never flinched away when the horrors of what they were snapped at her. The truth was far greater than any deadly mistake. That insatiable need for the truth would now never be quenched, her story ended. Sped through without a pause because life didn't wait, and neither did knowledge.
Teagan coughed, only just then realizing the elevator had dinged and Emilio was waiting for her to exit. She stepped out, knees keeping their stability by some miracle. It nearly caved when they reached Emilio's apartment. Arden's unit was just across, her silly welcome mat about wine just barely askew in front of her door.
“Hobbes is in there.” She said, voice cracking. How long would he look for Arden? Likely just as much as Teagan would, in everyone she came across, but she had the luxury of understanding why. And what a horrible thing to be a luxury. None of it felt like such. “Hobbes is in there.” Teagan said again, chin trembling as she attempted to keep her composure.
—
Nothing about death ever really felt fair. It didn’t matter how it happened, it always felt too soon. Maybe it wasn’t the case for some people — Emilio had never known anyone who’d died of old age, had never buried someone who had succumbed to natural causes — but for Emilio, it always felt like a jolt. His oldest brother died at eighteen, and it felt just as unfair as his other siblings dying in their thirties. His daughter died at four, and there was no more justice in that than there was in Arden, who had gotten more time and made more mistakes. Death was a familiar face, but it wasn’t a friend. It was the relative you hoped wouldn’t show up to the holidays this year, the neighbor who you saw making their way up the stairs and locked the door against.
There was no justice in the way Teagan trembled, no peace in the way she cradled Arden’s corpse. None of it was fair. None of it was right. The world kept spinning, anyway.
The elevator dinged, and it took a moment for Teagan to walk out into the hall just as it took a moment for Emilio to follow her. Arden’s door stood across from his as if nothing had changed at all, and that was always the hardest part. After Victor died, his mother had divided his clothes among his surviving siblings, and Emilio remembered being angry as he’d clutched his brother’s favorite shirt to his chest even if he’d had no room to express it back then. He wanted to express it now, wanted to tear the building down brick by brick. But Teagan was trembling, and he thought she probably needed him to be stronger than that. He could not be heroic; he didn’t think he was built for it. He could not be good, could not be brave, could not save anyone.
He could still be useful, though. He didn’t know if it was enough; he thought maybe it had to be, for now.
He pushed his door open, the lock just as broken now as it had been for a year. The apartment was empty, and he was glad for it. There was no Jeff rummaging through his cabinet, no client waiting by his desk. Somewhere in the apartment, Perro must have been hiding beneath some furniture, afraid of the anger Emilio had displayed on his way out the door when the surge coursed through him. He couldn’t think of it now.
Teagan still stood in the hall, staring at Arden’s door. Emilio looked at it for a moment before tearing his gaze away, feeling sick. The cat. The cat was in there, alone and probably afraid. (He didn’t let himself think of Perro, in the hours after Emilio’s death, didn’t let himself wonder if his dog had known, somehow, that his owner was tangled limbs tossed in a dumpster to rot.) “Okay,” he said quietly, the word pushing past the lump in his throat. “Okay. Put Arden on the couch. Sit with her. I’ll get Hobbes, and you can take him home with you.” And they’d figure out what to do with the body, too. They’d find somewhere to bury it, or they’d call a funeral home. (Emilio knew far less about burying people than he knew about losing them; most of the bodies that had once housed the people he loved were left to rot after. He couldn’t save anyone, and he couldn’t give them proper burials, either. There were so many things he couldn’t do.)
—
Emilio offered Arden a place, but it'd put too much distance between her and Teagan. So, she settled on the floor, next to the couch and took her time to settle into a position where she could hold Arden more comfortably. She cupped her face, wincing with a pained gasp at how cold she felt. “I'm sorry.” Teagan sniffed, chin trembling and eyes stinging.
Already, there were tiny, little reminders of Arden's absence, as she laid there, still, in
the fae's arms. Her lack of breath. Her lack of color. Her lack of protest at all the jerky movements Teagan had to make to get her to Emilio's apartment. They were growing closer and further together, all at once. Loss made life a contradiction in that way.
The more you moved forward, the more distance you put between yourself and the split moment before death. And what would happen then? How long would Teagan lose Arden? To this day, she lost her family in every memory she remembered, breaking them apart until the memories were only images she thought she remembered. They were only fragments of images she shoved together, unable to recall smaller details more and more.
That seemed like a nightmare to Teagan, and she knew it was bliss to most. To forget the pain and move on. It was a sign that life was going, without a hindrance from pain, but who was she without that? Without that tangible reminder of what Teagan had left of what was once everyone's life? That hollowness, where her love rotted in her chest, was her only twisted way of being with those she lost.
“I love you.” Teagan breathed against Arden's head. “Cariad, I love you.”
—
He felt like he was intruding on something incredibly private. Even in his own apartment, with his shitty furniture strewn about and his clothes still on the floor where he’d left them earlier, Emilio felt out of place. He tried not to look at Arden, tried not to think about the way she used to leave whiskey outside his door on the days he wouldn’t leave his apartment, tried not to remember how many times she’d pulled him back from the brink. She’d saved him more than once, and he hadn’t been here to do the same for her. Story of his fucking life, wasn’t it? He’d never been much good at saving anyone.
Turning towards the door, Emilio limped out of the apartment, away from the heavy grief enveloping the small space. The walk to Arden’s door was a familiar one, even if he’d intentionally avoided the trek for the last year or so. He tried the knob, found the door unlocked; it made sense, in the grand scheme of things. She’d probably rushed out in a hurry, wanting to help more than she’d wanted to do much anything else.
Emilio turned the knob, stepping inside the apartment to find everything as he guessed she must have left it. The space — which had a layout similar to his own apartment across the hall — didn’t know that it was missing anything. He envied it, in a way, yearned for that kind of apathetic ignorance. He stared at it for a moment, a storm brewing somewhere in his chest. It didn’t seem fair. None of it did, but the way her apartment looked just the same now as it had before, the way you couldn’t tell by looking at it that anything was different at all…
It should have been different. Grief demanded an outward change, some neon sign that marked the world as having changed. When his wife and daughter died, his mangled leg had felt something like a relief, like a physical embodiment of a grief he couldn’t quite put to words. He’d preferred that to the empty monotony of Victor’s death when he was twelve, when the only sign that the world was missing someone was the empty place at the table his mother refused to acknowledge. Arden’s apartment shouldn’t look the same as it always had; Emilio shouldn’t be physically whole in a world that was emptier without her presence. He wanted to burn the goddamn building down, wanted to let himself catch in the flames, wanted to change the world to match the emptiness in his chest.
But a soft shape bumped against his legs, and he was here for a reason. He leaned down, scooping up Hobbes and cradling him close to his chest. “Okay,” he said quietly, glancing to the apartment again. “Okay. Come on.” He carried the cat to the door, pausing in the threshold. It felt as if he should say something, but he didn’t have the words. And so, he left the empty apartment in silence, limping back to his own apartment turned tomb and pulling the door shut behind him.
When he got back to his apartment, it didn’t seem as though Teagan had moved at all. He shut the door and placed the cat on the ground, allowing him to approach the nix and the corpse. Then, still trying not to look at Arden’s body, Emilio moved towards the kitchen to grab a drink.
—
Everything was in a funnel, sound lengthening and growing higher in pitch the longer Emilio was gone. Grief had made the world become this abstract, intangible thing despite existing in it actively. Teagan sat there, keenly aware of how little time she had left to hold Arden, and her grasp became tighter with terror.
“How am I supposed to do this, cariad?” She cried, “We…we should be in your bed right now.” She kissed the top of Arden's head, unaware of both Hobbes and Emilio until she noticed the cat creeping curiously closer. His belly was flush with the floor, legs bent in a way only cats could do and still move. He beeped and chittered, nose bumping into Arden's leg and causing him to startle himself backward.
“It's her.” Teagan choked, swallowing past the grief as best she could so she could help Hobbes understand. “But she's gone.” He began to wriggle slowly forward again, beeping curiously into a tiny meow. The sound made Teagan's chest twist so harshly her eyes stung. She shut them tightly, staving off a cry for as long as she could.
It wasn't long until her tears betrayed her, and she opened them again to see Hobbes crawling carefully onto Arden's stomach. He became a small loaf and purred, staring at his owner. Was it in hopes of healing her? No, that couldn't be. Teagan knew how cats worked and how animals could sense changes like death. Purring was a comforting thing, both for their unit and for themself. Gathering from the way he laid on Arden and not on Teagan, she knew what he was doing. He was grieving, too.
“I want to bury her.” Teagan didn't know where in the apartment Emilio was, but she said it loud enough for him to hear. “Next to her father.” She swallowed, shakily speaking. “It's only right.”
—
The feeling of being an intruder did not dissipate as he stood a few feet away, trying to avoid looking at his friend’s cooling corpse. He didn’t know if it made it easier or harder that what Teagan was experiencing was so familiar to him. Emilio had been where she was once, his wife’s body a broken and unnatural thing in his arms. For him, there had been too much chaos to properly grieve in the moment. He hadn’t been able to stay with Juliana’s body, had needed to retreat to save his own life. Maybe that had made things easier, in a way; maybe less time spent with a corpse was a double-edged sword of making moving on both more impossible and less challenging.
None of this did Teagan any good one way or another, though. Even if Emilio had known how to bridge the gap between them, even if he could have found the words to offer Juliana’s name as some attempt at comforting Teagan through his shared experience, it wouldn’t make Arden any less dead. There was no putting her back together, no pushing whatever made her her back into the empty husk she’d left behind. And, in the privacy of his own head, Emilio thought it was probably better that way. He had done death and resurrection. It wasn’t something he would wish on Arden. She deserved whatever peace there was to be found at the other side of this.
He pulled a bottle of whiskey down from the cabinet and turned to watch the cat go over, watch him settle onto Arden’s still chest. His own chest ached with something undefinable. He thought of the moment, years ago, when he had first met her, when her stubborn insistence that they ought to be friends broke through his much fresher misery and discomfort in letting anyone get close. She’d outlived him, and he was still staring at her corpse. It was a preamble, he knew, to everyone else who would die while he was still chasing his vengeance.
Uncapping the whiskey, he took a swig from the bottle and crossed the room, standing an arm’s length away as he offered it to Teagan. “Okay,” he agreed quietly. “We can do that. We can bury her.” Someone would need to tell her family, her friends. Emilio could do that, too, unless Teagan wanted to. (That was something that could go either way, he thought; grief did odd things to people sometimes.) For now, though… For now, all he really knew how to do was drink.
—
“Okay.” Teagan croaked, breaking into a mess of stifled sobs as the two of them came to an agreement. The only other sound than her was the heavy pour into a cup from the kitchen. Teagan's eyes felt raw at that point, but it couldn't be helped when a whole life lay still in her arms. A sequence of memories set on pause because Teagan couldn't bring herself to think back on them. Not yet. And until all the drinks had been settled and a call was made, the blonde would remain there, holding her grief like a vessel, unable to hold it steady.
No. 7: " “I paced around for hours on empty; I jumped at the slightest of sounds.”
"Can you hear me?”
You don't need to read the whole story. Every day can stand for its own (more or less, at least till here). And poor Sam just has to suffer through every single one of them, I promise!
Hummingbird 07
(Story starts here) previous
...
The fizzling electrodes burning the cotton of Sam's sweat soaked shirt. The smell of burning flesh reached his nose. A flash of white agony, like someone just pushed a gleaming knife right through his heart and the world stopped.
A cruel grin in the other man's face. Frustration had gotten to him, but he had channeled it effectively by almost pushing that cattle prod through his chest.
The body in front of him had gone limb again, the head lolled forward. The slack form hanging sadly in his chains, feet awkwardly scrapping over the floor. Blood and spit were dripping from his mouth. Beats of sweat summoned on the tips of some strands of his hair, about to fall.
The gloved hand pulled his head up by the wet hair again. "There he is again, my little humm... " The man froze, hesitated a second. Sam's eyes weren't all the way closed, skin ashgrey, his mouth open.
"Hey?!" The perpetrators voice instantly thin. He shook the heavy head under his palm slightly. It felt like he was moving a bag of sand, no tension at all.
Then the hand gently put Sam's head back down and two fingers went for his carotic artery. The cattle prod fell to the floor with a dull thud, completely forgotten.
"Fuck!" Jumped out of the man's mouth. The glove was yanked from his dominant hand and he tried again. No sign of a heartbeat. Nothing.
"No no no no..." Panic highjacked the intimidator. The chain from the ceiling gave way, the limb body sank into his arms like a lifesize doll, of which the strings had been cut. He put Sam down, his back flat on the concrete floor, cuffed arms fell down, lifeless.
The man lost the other glove, ripped open Sam's shirt, starting by the hole, that was burned right in its middle. He overstretched his neck and breathed 2 puffs into Sam's mouth. His big hands went down to his middle of the fragile rib cage. Burned flesh under his palms, when he started CPR. "No no no. I'm sorry hummingbird."
Sweat from his frantic attempt to start the stopped heart working again and tears of despair mixed on his flushed face, dropping onto the pale chest of his victim.
2 more breaths for Sam and more chest compressions. A hectic hand grabbed for the cattle prod and pushed down in the same spot, where he had done it before. The electric impuls shot through the lifeless body, muscles spasming. More flesh burned. A testing hand to his neck, still no pulse. The kid's skin was cool and clammy, strains of hair stuck to his forehead, blood trickling down his ghostly pale cheek. "Kid" was a mere desperate discription of the grown man laying in front of him, while comparing their ages. He felt like he had just killed his son, despite their lack of relation.
"I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry." The man was mumbling to himself. "
He breathed for Sam again, his hands forcefully massaging the unmoving heart. Another attempt with the cattle prod. The kid's body jolted, 2 fingers to his artery.
A thud...
thud... thudthudthud, thud. His pulse was off, thready, but it was there.
An audible breath escaped the perpetrator and he sank down to his butt. Keeping his fingers on the neck to make sure for a bit longer.
A big hand brushed over the boy's sticky forehead and through his sweaty hair. The other palm finally left the young man's neck and touched his ribs all so gently.
The man lay down his face on the cool, slightly muscular but skinny body of his precious little mess. He was looking at Sam's unmoving face sideways: his jaw, his slightly bluish lips, stained with drops of blood, black lashes against pale skin and most importantly, his nostrals slighly moving. The ear on his clammy chest making sure, that his heart was really beating.
Hot tears connected with the young man's cold sweat. "I'm so sorry, my little hummingbird."
SUMMARY: After getting fucked up by both Perro and Emilio, Mateo drops into The Vinyl Countdown to rest. Leticia is startled and checks who broke in.
WARNINGS: Reference to parental death, CPR
Bile coated Mateo’s throat, the pain sending shockwaves of nausea through his body. Fuck! He panted, the panic forcing his dead lungs to beg for air. Even that hurt. He looked down, crawling through the astral. There was glitter pouring out of him like an arts and crafts bottle, right where his lungs would be. Right. That’s why it hurt to breathe. Rolling his eyes, Mateo told his body to stop reacting to the pain and start focusing on the new objective. Which was finding a safe space to patch up, or at least rest.
“Pinche culero…!” The mare hissed, trying to mask how scared he truly was. The slayer had attacked him. Worse than that, he’d bested Mateo, breaking the illusion of his invincibility. He punched the ground and continued his search, a lightbulb setting off in his head.
The shop.
Mateo crawled a few more inches and slid through his next astral jump, fumbling it completely and landing on The Vinyl Countdown’s front counter with a harsh and cracking thud. Everything went black for a moment, and when Mateo opened his eyes, he remained on the floor to rest, completely unaware of the other person in the room.
Leticia had spent most of her life avoiding scares of any kind. Her mother had told her often enough as a child that any extreme emotion would be enough to set the spirit free. But the loud crashing of something hitting the counter near the front of the store was more than enough to make her heart drop.
With her heart pounding, Leticia put a hand out on one of the displays that she had been cleaning up, waiting for another sound—or for the top floor to start sinking and finish falling. Because what else would make that kind of sound in the middle of the night? What else in the store was that heavy?
Taking a moment to collect herself, Leticia forced herself to investigate. Praying that it was some item that she had forgotten about, maybe an electric guitar behind the counter, that had fallen, and not something else.
Mateo as another unexpected shock. Blinking a few times, Leticia swore up and down that the store had been empty. Mateo and the others had all left for the night—so how? She looked up at the ceiling, but there was no damage. (Not that it would have explained how he had gotten in, but the lack of information put her on edge.) Snapping out of it, she knelt down next to him, her hand hovering just below his nose.
There was nothing.
Leticia put her hands on his chest and took a deep breath, closing her eyes and trying to remember all the bullshit from tv and sorting out what was real and what wasn’t when it came to CPR. Faster than the song they said and hard. “Okay, okay,” she breathed, her own heart racing as she attempted compressions. Trying to remember who many before she was supposed to give air. How the fuck did this happen?
Why was there a pressure on his chest? Was something on top of him? Mateo wanted to keep resting his eyes, but now the pressure was coming in a cadence. Was that a 4/4 signature? What in the hell was happening? Before he knew it, the beat stopped and a warmth reached his…lips? That’s when Mateo shot his eyes open to see Leticia trying to blow air in his mouth.
When she pulled away, he arched a brow, forcing his confused expression to fall into a devious smile. It worked, for the most part. Save for the way Mateo winced and rolled over in pain from the compressions Leticia was apparently giving him. “Jesus, Leti. Take a guy to dinner first. You know, before you try to Sleeping Beauty their ass.” It was better to joke for him, it masked the way his body was trembling from the loss of a mare’s version of blood and how much his body ached.
Mateo took in a shuddered breath, struggling to his hands and knees as he tried to hide his ‘blood’. “Listen, I didn’t know you’d be here. I’ll clean up the mess later.” He coughed, managing to get to his unsteady feet. The whole attempt was useless, really. Mateo fell over almost immediately. “I gotta get home.” He stayed on the floor, giving himself a moment. “I’m fine. Just a crazy night out.” A lie, obviously, but the sooner he left, the better. There was no way he wanted Leticia to find out much more about him. The music was enough.
He opened his eyes when she pulled away and her first reaction? Relief. Even as he made a joke about taking him to dinner to first and despite the confusion as to how he got there in the first place looking as ragged as he did—she was relieved. Leticia put a hand on his face and took a deep breath, realizing how cold he was. “Shit, I packed up the blankets already.” She started to take off her jacket as Mateo tried to stand.
“Fuck you—sit down.” The initial adrenaline of the sound of him falling seemingly through the ceiling had faded away, replaced with the panic that was all too familiar. The spirit was doing circles in her head, each movement felt like a step closer to losing control. Leticia squeezed her eyes shut and focused on the noises around her, trying to ground herself in the room and breathe through what was happening.
But it was what she didn’t hear that forced her eyes open. But he was still talking. He was still looking at her. “You’re not fine,” she snapped at him. “How did you even get in here, I was by myself! I had just closed up everything and, I,” Leticia tried to force herself to say anything else, but her eyes fell toward the center of his chest, searching desperately for the sound that should have been there. “Why the fuck isn’t your heart beating? I can’t hear it.”
Fuck you—
It made Mateo chuckle a little deliriously. “Hey, you told me you didn’t want to.” His eyes were heavy and half-lidded, his smile looking almost drunk from the loss of glitter. It had to be obvious by then, especially now that he was using Leticia for support. There probably was no use hiding what he was at that point, Mateo thought. He sighed.
“Leticia, I’m fine.” He rubbed his eyes, “I don’t need a blanket. I don’t need your jacket. I…” Frustration was mounting as Leticia continued to fuss over him. It wasn’t something Mateo was used to. Not even his mother showed that kind of concern, always expecting the men to take care of themselves. The genuine distress Leticia displayed made his confident facade waver for a moment, only for his attention to be jarred with a question about his heart.
“What-what the fuck are you talking about?” Mateo looked down at his chest, scooting away from Leticia. “What do you mean you can’t hear my heart? You…” Mateo arched his brow curiously, a smile on the brink of tugging his lips at the possibility of a new supernatural comrade. “You different?”
“Ha, ha,” Leticia grumbled in reply, but whatever frustration she had tried to put out immediately folded back into concern. He had been cold to the touch and he hadn’t been breathing. But he was determined to convince her that he didn’t need anything, but she still tried. Leaning over toward him with her jacket and tucking it around him with a frown on her face. “Just take it. It’ll make me feel better,” she then added, hoping that she could guilt him into taking it, if nothing else.
But with the realization that his heart was not beating and he was still talking, Leticia found herself realizing that he was cold not because he had brushed against something that could have killed him, but because that was his natural state of being. How long had he been like this? Before she knew him? Had it happened in town? Had someone done this to him?
He scooted away from her and Leticia sat fully on the ground, deflating at the overwhelming amount of information that she had been hit with. “Yeah,” she said. “I…” she started, scrubbing her hands over her face before shaking her head. “You first. What the fuck happened?”
Anxiety wasn’t something that Mateo believed he was afflicted with. Most days were boring because of how little he feared. He conjured up people’s worst demons and pulled their screams from their throat, crawling like a monster beneath his victim’s bed. Mateo wasn’t supposed to feel such weak emotions like anxiety, so why did he at that moment? And why was his chest feeling like it was pulling itself apart when he looked at Leticia’s face? Despite the pain, Mateo tightly shut his eyes, black eye be damned.
“Just…just give me a minute.” The mare huffed, rubbing his temples and scrubbing at his scalp. He knocked off Leticia’s and sighed with a hint of relief. At least his friend was different too. “I was trying to eat, man.” Mateo kept his eyes downcasted, avoiding Leticia’s gaze. “Picked the wrong fucking guy if that wasn’t fucking obvious.” His teeth gritted together, the prickling sensation of his emotions making him irritable. His friend didn’t deserve his attitude though, so he rolled his shoulders and took a few grounding breaths. While Mateo’s lungs didn’t need to function, it always felt relaxing to use them.
“I managed to get away ‘cause I can use shadows and the astral. Jumped in since I didn’t think you’d be here. I…panicked.” Finally, Mateo removed his shades and looked up, revealing his glowing red eyes. “I’m this. A mare. I, uh…have been for a-a few years. Like…five?” There was more to be revealed, but giving out what he actually did for a living wasn’t something that Mateo wanted to do. Not yet. Or maybe not ever. Leticia was a good person, and if she knew, he could put her in danger, even if she was different and could possibly protect herself.
“So, uh…what about you?”
Mateo snapped at her and for a moment, Leticia hesitated. Unsure of herself and their relationship, doubting each move she had made and over thinking—had she done something wrong? This wasn’t like when she reached out to Andy and she had flinched, or the silence that Emilio chose over drinks. But Mateo was here and talking but… how did he get there? It couldn’t have been by normal means, now that the gaps were filling out, had he expected to be alone here?
She stayed quiet, giving him the room to speak, and even when he was voicing his frustration, even when it sounded like it was directed at her. Leticia’s dealings with anything undead had been heavily limited. She only knew of two others—and one she had killed. Her dark eyes turned away from his face and stared at the ground, trying not to get lost in herself as he spoke. “So that’s how you got in, I thought the ceiling was coming down,” Leticia said, trying to refocus on him, trying not to fall into the sinking feeling in her chest.
“Balam,” Leticia whispered, glancing at him but not meeting his gaze. “That incident on stage? In February when I went underground? The jaguar that was just a bad stage incident? The jaguar was me.” She didn’t tell him about the phone call or the grief and the fear, or that she hadn’t hurt anyone because while she hadn’t in the moment, she had fallen from that pedestal she had put herself on. Leticia swallowed, trying to push away all the discomfort. “Do you need anything? You look like shit.”
“Yeah.” Leticia was offered a simple and curt nod, eyes diverting from hers again. They quickly went back to place though, upon her truth being spoken aloud. “Shit…” Mateo’s brows raised with surprise and a hint of awe. The footage from Leticia’s incident went viral, of course, and while Mateo tended to steer clear of that kind of media, he had seen it. It made him feel bad, if he was being honest. The jaguar looked scared and paced around, ready to attack. But…it had been Leticia—is Leticia.
“I’m sorry.” It was as sincere as Mateo could make it sound because he meant it. He was sorry, regardless of whether or not it was his fault. Jaguar or Leticia, the fear had been obvious, and all those flashing lights and loud noises…it sounded like hell. Was she alone in all of this? Mateo wondered and it made his chest tighten. Why did he care? He worried the inside of his cheek, chuckling dryly at Leticia’s comment to force himself to not think about her pain.
“I’m good. Do you need anything? You…you seem like you’re having a rough go at it, fam.”
Mateo said she had a rough time and Leticia couldn’t help but laugh. And through all the tension and frustration, it felt good. Strange, but good. He had been one of the few people who knew who she was beyond the confines of this town, and now he knew her true nature too. Most of it, at least. And it shouldn’t have been funny. It should have been terrifying. It should have been vulnerable and wrong, because most of the time the confession felt that way.
“You look like shit,” Leticia reminded, looking at him once again. “I don’t know… how you heal or what you need, but if there’s something I can get you…” The offer was on the table. Bandages, beer, whatever he wanted. But after a beat, she circled back around to his apology, having ignored it at first because she didn’t want that, didn’t need it. “It was a shit hand I was dealt that night. A lot happened and… that can happen when I feel too much. I get overwhelmed and the claws come out.” Literally. But she could only manage so much of a joke in the moment.
Mateo couldn’t help but laugh along with Leticia. It all felt so surreal and like the two of them needed to let out their delirium in some way. When the laughter died down, Mateo bit his lip and pondered for a moment, trying to find the right words for the friend. It felt strange to care so much, but he did. Wherever that would lead, Mateo wasn’t sure, and he didn’t know if he even wanted to find out, but until then, he supposed all he could do was ride it all out.
“I gotchu, I hope you know that. Secrets, and all that. You don’t gotta worry. Honestly, it’s kinda nice that more than one person knows what I am.” The only other one being Mateo’s brother, and now Mackenzie, but that hardly felt like the knowledge had any weight to those two. It was practically nothing for his sibling, but he wasn’t going to dive into that while his mind was abuzz with anxiety and adrenaline.
“Heal like shit. Like a human. Nothing speedy.” Mateo moved his hand from his stomach, showing the glitter that covered his palm. “Give me some beer or whiskey and I’ll be fine. Maybe a first-aid kit, too. I can patch myself up.” He chuckled, eyes going soft when Leticia’s joke fell as flat as she likely felt. Mateo sighed, brows wringing together worriedly before going back to his usual smug expression. If Leticia couldn’t joke, then Mateo would. He’d rather she be annoyed with him than feel the shitty depth of her emotions. It was probably the only thing he was good at besides nightmares. “Well, let’s chill a little and keep those claws away. Hopefully seeing me shirtless won’t make you feel too much, aye ma?” He winked with a grin, “Don’t try kissing me again, okay?”
Keeping secrets always felt like shit when Leticia was in the immediate proximity of someone that she knew she could trust. In her heart, she knew that Mateo wouldn't judge her, wouldn't shame her for all the things she was and all the things that she failed to be. But there was always a sliver of doubt that had been given to her by her manager. The constant reminders that if she wasn't perfect, that she'd be rejected. And this felt like a moment that was dangerously close to her showing too much of herself and being seen. Of all the times she played pretend being shown and suddenly not being the person that Mateo had liked in the first place.
But he dropped the topic, let it get buried under the humor that they both took comfort in, and Leticia welcomed it. Her eyes drifted to his hands when he showed her the glitter on them and the confusion was back on her face. What the fuck was that? "That's what you bleed?" It was horrifying in one hand, and on the other? It was glitter. "Does it spread like glitter?" Another horrifying thought was that if it really was what it looked like, that was going to be in the crevices of everything behind the counter. For weeks.
Huffing a laugh, Leticia braced herself on the counter before pushing herself into a standing position, only to put her hand on the top of Mateo's head and shove him slightly. "Shut the hell up." It had been about the shirtless comment, but then he told her not to kiss him again and she rolled her eyes. It was the comfortable banter they usually had with each other. He was feeling better already, or he was expertly faking it. Either way, the concern Leticia had been feeling lightened. "Only in your dreams."
“Yeah, it gets fucking everywhere. That’s why I typically steer clear of getting maimed. Obviously I fucked up this time.” Mateo sucked his teeth and rolled his eyes, annoyed but still having a light air about him. There would always be comments about the glitter part of him, he knew that, but that didn’t mean he had to like it. “That Stephanie Meyer bitch got so many things wrong and fucked everything up, man.”
Mateo rubbed his head where he was shoved, overselling the victim card. He’d had his mind set on keeping to himself ever since he forced himself to leave home, but he was relieved that he hadn’t. Leticia, as rude and annoying and dumb as she was, Mateo enjoyed having her around. She was his friend, and that wasn’t a title he gave lightly. Not that he’d actually tell her.
“Well, I guess there’s still a chance then.” Getting up from the floor, Mateo limped behind Leticia and shoved her back, groaning in between his chuckles as they walked. “You know, since I can’t sleep or dream.” He knew there really wasn’t, and he didn’t actually want a chance. Not with her. Not with anyone. If his past was any indication, Mateo knew he wasn’t fit for much more than passive laughter and one-night stands. Maybe the occasional jam session now, what with Leticia knowing his private hobbies. That was enough, Mateo thought. He didn’t deserve much more than that anyway.
SUMMARY: Bex brings Teagan flowers, but bad luck keeps following her and Mina needs to step in to help.
WARNINGS: Medical Blood, Chronic Illness, Gore, CPR (labeled)
Bex knew she probably shouldn’t have been out, what with her energy being so low, but she wanted to personally check up on Teagan and see for herself that she was okay. She sort of figured she would be like Mina, and just say she was okay even if she wasn’t. As long as she believed she was, it wasn’t a lie. Bex was relearning how these things worked. She’d stopped along the way to pick up a bouquet of flowers for her, some nice winter colors with purple and blue and white. She didn’t know if Teagan liked flowers, but she supposed she’d find out. She was brushing her fingers through them as she walked when she paused, glancing around. For a moment, just a small moment, she’d forgotten what she was doing, where she was going. Blinking, she shook her head. Teagan’s, she was going to see Teagan.
Shaking off the strange feeling, she headed down the stairs to the docks, reading the address on her phone. Boats having addresses was strange, but she’d seen stranger things, really. Especially in this town. When she thought she’d found the right one, she stepped awkwardly onto the boat and came up to the door, knocking on it. Shifting her weight, holding up the flowers and a smile for when Teagan answered the door.
The knock on the door startled Teagan a little. She wasn’t expecting company, and she was laser focused on a project she received. The frames due for the day were finally finished with hours to spare, so she set to have them export before she pulled herself from the small desk, and tended to her visitor. “Oh,” Seeing Bex on the other side of the door made her quirk her head with confusion, but she opened the door with a smile. The flowers made it grow and she couldn’t help but feel compelled to hug her. She looked tired though, like a gust of wind could cause her to trip. “What are you doing here? Shouldn’t you be resting and not bringing me flowers, little peanut?” An even bigger grin, accompanied with a soft giggle formed at the little nickname. Bex reminded her of her sisters and how they teased one another. It was easy with her, came naturally, and though she wished she could behave that way with Mina, it was close enough. And maybe, with time, the two could have their own little nicknames for one another.
“Come in, it’s cold! I have the woodstove on if you’d like some tea.” Teagan ushered Bex inside, closing the door as the two stood in the small entrance. The boat swayed subtly with the waves, something she was used to. “Please sit, get off your feet. I’ll put the kettle on.”
At first, Bex thought Teagan might’ve been upset. All she said was oh and Bex suddenly worried if this had been a bad idea. She had just wanted to check up on her, that was all. Was she bothering her? Was she a nuisance? Did Teagan resent Bex for being close to Mina? But then she smiled and Bex perked up, crinkling her nose. “Peanut? I am not a peanut,” she pouted, sticking her lip out. But, really, she liked it. She had never had a sibling, and while she now had friends, who might have acted like them sometimes, Teagan outright admitted to seeing Bex as a younger sibling. And it felt nice. Bex wanted family. Bex wanted that family so bad. She smiled. “Tea sounds great,” she said as she headed in, holding out the flowers to Teagan. “I brought these for you. Thought they might make a nice center piece or something. And, well, who doesn’t like flowers, right?” She shook her head. “Oh, I’m okay! I’m okay, really. I just get tired real fast. It’s nothing big.” And she didn’t have her magic, but she was being safe. It was the middle of the day and she’d stuck to crowded streets. She was being as safe as she could. “How are you? How is your neck?”
Teagan loved the way Bex reacted to her teasing, like she was the sister she had been looking for. And perhaps it wasn’t fair to look at it that way, Mina needed time. So the nix reconstructed the thought, seeing the witch as an added gift to finding her sister, an unexpected blessing. Just like the flowers she had brought with her. “You are a little peanut to me,” A bright smile formed, “And I appreciate the flowers! They’re lovely. Almost as lovely as seeing you.” She was always polite out of general necessity, but it was genuine and even adoring with Bex. If everything worked out, she would be her little sister-in-law, after all. Taking the flowers, she placed them carefully on the counter and filled the kettle with water, before placing it on the woodstove to heat up. “I hope you like lavender tea. It pairs well with honey. I’ve been obsessed with it ever since I tried a lavender latte at the coffee shop with Anita.” She paused, hoping she wouldn’t get teased but expecting it anyway. “Plus it’s very relaxing.”
The bite on her neck hadn’t healed all that much. Breaking away from the boat was difficult when she was feeling a little too down and distracted. Teagan brushed her fingers over the fresh bandages and sighed, sitting down on the couch. “My neck is okay. I’ve been a little too distracted to get into some water long enough to really make a difference in my healing. But what about you? You were the one who actually got hurt.”
Bex handed Teagan the flowers and followed the older girl in, glancing around the little house. “Wow, it’s, like, much bigger on the inside. It’s really cute! Kinda makes me wanna live in one, except that I don’t know how to swim and am afraid of the ocean. And also Mina hates the ocean.” She remembered Mina telling her about when she’d fallen off the cliff into the ocean and how painful it had felt. She supposed the cuts and wounds didn’t help. She wouldn’t mention that, though. “I’m neither little, nor a peanut,” she said, huffing, but she couldn’t help but smile through it. “Lavender is great! I love lavender tea. Especially lavender milk tea. Just, you know, with not milk. Like milk alternatives. Oat milk is my favorite, have you ever tried oatmilk? Like, soy is okay, but it’s so sweet and doesn’t taste like milk, and I’m not a big almond fan so I don’t drink almond milk, either. But oatmilk is really good! And, uh– you probably don’t care about that, sorry. But Anita! Have you been talking to her online? How soon is your dance date?”
She shuffled awkwardly for a moment, before turning to look back at Teagan. “I’m glad you’re doing okay. Why are you so distracted? Did something else happen? I brought some of my guardian’s famous salve for you, too, actually,” she said, digging through her purse to pull out a little jar of greenish liquid. “If you put it on like, twice a day, it’ll help with the scarring and the pain.” Shaking her head, she added, “I’m fine, really. I didn’t get like, hurt hurt. I just heal kinda slow. And, like, my magic sort of comes back, but there’s so little of it, and then it just goes away and I get tired all over again.”
The amount of talking didn’t faze Teagan in the slightest. With the number of siblings she had, overtalking and listening to multiple people’s thoughts was just a part of being a sister. Everyone wanted to be heard and she always had an ear to lend. “The ocean isn’t kind to us, so I have to agree with her distaste. But this place was cheap, on some sort of water, and didn’t require a long-term agreement.” Just in case Mina asked her to leave and she had to depart at a moment’s notice. Bex kept talking and she didn’t even get a chance to implore her to learn how to swim. But she smiled. The witch had so much to say and the nix had so much to learn. “I do care. You’re very adorable and I’d be more than happy to listen to you ramble. But you’ve got to let me call you little peanut.” Carefully, she placed a gentle hand on Bex’s shoulder and patted her soothingly to distract. A finger lightly poked the girl’s forehead and Teagan laughed. “Gotcha! And I do like oatmilk. Prefer it, even. It’s creamy and better and I think it makes pastries taste sweeter.” She blushed a little at the mention of Anita and her distractions. Scales slowly formed on her shoulders and neck to join the dusting on her cheeks.
Teagan took a deep breath before giving her an explanation, her scales receding slowly. “Well, Anita’s been coming over. And even spent the night. In my bed. And she held me. So…” She shrugged a little awkwardly, taking the salve and feeling the warmth fill her chest at being so cared for by someone who could have her defenses up. Just like her life partner. “I really appreciate this. Twice a day. Got it.” She clasped the container in her hands tightly, turning to get a better look at Bex. “And, um, I’m really glad you’re okay. I was worried about you and even if you do look a little tired, it’s nice to see you upright and walking. Sorry if that’s weird. I’ve grown rather fond of you is all.”
“Cheap is good, definitely good,” Bex nodded eagerly. “If you need help paying for anything, though, you can just ask me. I sort of am sitting on a lot of money from my parents.” Her parents who weren’t actually her real parents, something that Bex still had a difficult time reconciling with. Maybe it was because she didn’t know her real parents at all. The only picture she’d seen of her mother was in Odell’s office, stuffed in the back of a book, and she’d only seen it once. Bex didn’t remember what she looked like, just that her name was Odette and she left when she was young. She shook the thought off. “That doesn’t sound like a fair trade to me,” she teased, sticking her tongue out. As a hand was laid on her shoulder, Bex couldn’t help the stiffening of her muscles, trying her best not to flinch away. But at this point, it was still muscle memory. She stayed stiff as Teagan poked her forehead, trying to shake off the feeling. She gave an attempt at a smile. “That one totally didn’t count.”
Bex watched as scales receded the more Teagan relaxed. She wondered if she’d be able to teach Mina how to do that, remembering how disgruntled Mina was about her scales not going away at the moment. “She stayed with you?” she asked, perking up a bit. “Well that’s a big step! Are you meeting with her again soon?” She smiled again, touched by the concern. She had lots of people now who cared about her, but it never stopped amazing her when they did. She’d figured herself worthless almost her entire life, and now she had people who told her she was worth more than the world to them. “It’s not weird at all. I was worried about you, too.”
Bex’s stilted posture at what was supposed to be an affectionate gesture sank Teagan’s heart a little. She’d seen that reaction before. On someone who’d taken the palm of a hand too many times. “It did count,” cheeks pulled into a smile, not wanting to draw attention to her body’s response. “You’re just upset that I managed to win so quickly.” She stuck her tongue out playfully and scooted away to give Bex her space in hopes that it might make her feel more secure. But now it was her turn to stiffen as she was teased once again. Getting poked at so constantly would probably benefit her, she thought. She’d become immune eventually. Hopefully. “We take walks together every other night around the lake. She even offered to have me come over and stay the night. You actually caught me at a great time. I would be over there now, but I got a project and needed to work.”
The kettle whistled and Teagan stood to prepare the tea, continuing conversation as she removed the kettle from the stovetop and retrieved mugs. “It’s a little strange to have someone worried. I’m always the worrier.” She poured the tea, the flow stopping abruptly at the sound of thrashing against the boat’s walls. What had been poured rippled with each thud, rattling the glass on the counter. “Wonder what that could be. Doesn’t sound like knocking.” She unsheathed her knife and readied it immediately. Preparation was the key to countering the element of surprise. “Stay there.” Every step to the door was careful, peeking through the peephole but seeing nothing. The walls rattled again causing her to jump back and look cautiously at Bex.
Bex was grateful Teagan didn’t say anything about her reaction, even though she knew she’d noticed it. Especially when she scooted away to give Bex her space. She wished she could be easy about these things, she really did, but her body seemed to have a mind of its own about these things. Her therapist told her it would likely persist for a while, but there were exercises and tricks she could use to calm herself down and make it easier. Bex ticked her fingers along her thumb and counted each one in her head before letting her shoulders relax and looking back at Teagan. “Only because you cheated,” she said with a pout, though she was still smiling. Her mind was relaxed, she just wished her body would, too. “Wait, wait, wait– you’re saying you see her almost daily, and you’ve spent the night with her several times, and you’re still not sure she likes you back? Jeez, I don’t think even I was that oblivious, dummy,” she teased, chuckling. “She definitely likes you. And it seems like you definitely like her, too.”
Bex watched her stand to retrieve the tea as the pot whistled, leaning back against the chair she’d sat in. “Worrying is like, my default state. Just ask Mina. Or anyone, really. I can’t help it. I worry, I’m a professional worrier–” the loud thump! interrupted her thought, though and she looked at Teagan questioningly. “What is that?” A knife was drawn before Bex could register the rhythmic thumping against the wall, standing up slowly and finding herself lacking the same energy she’d had when she’d gotten there. She rubbed her eyes. “What is it? Can you see anything?”
“Dummy? That was uncalled for!” Teagan exaggerated her offense, making it obvious that she wasn’t hurt by any means. All things said were in jest, on a subject that was becoming amusingly confusing. Anita made her feel good and the guilt that gnawed at her for years was beginning to become a soft hum, lessening with each interaction. “I don’t know. Maybe.” Eyes rolled and scales trickled over the skin on her arms from both the butterflies and the anxiety about what could be outside. Claws extended too, an added precaution. Being proactive with her anxiety meant that she could be several steps ahead and think on the fly. She understood that default state Bex spoke of. That was her existence too. That was what made her a good protector, a good fighter.
Teagan was a bit perplexed by the absence of anything at her door, but the state of Bex’s well-being took precedence when it looked like she was trying to adjust her eyes. The nix returned to her side, hovering a careful and clawed hand above her shoulder. “You should sit down. I’ll—” Another thump, and another, and another. “I’ll check what that is.” As quietly as she could, she went back to the door and opened it slowly. Still nothing. The thudding became a bang! Only to be followed by several more. Eyes trailed the sounds, landing on a disgustingly slimy creature with unsettling human teeth. A torple. But she didn’t know it by name. She ran back inside and shut the door quickly. “I don’t know what that thing is, but it has a lot of teeth.”
“I don’t believe it was at all,” Bex said back, but her focus was much more on the loud thumping at this point, as it grew louder and more desperate. “Maybe someone needs help? What if they’re hurt?” she asked, looking to Teagan, watching claws come out. Whatever it was, it wasn’t good if she was doing that. Bex knew that from watching Mina, how tense she became when her claws came out. In protection mode. It wasn’t unsimilar to Teagan right now. Bex stayed behind her, trying to see out the window and wondering if she could see what it was, what it might be. But Teagan was moving her back towards the other side of the boat. Bex raised a brow, but stayed put as the older girl opened the door.
Bex jumped at the bang, stumbling back into the table and catching it to stay standing upright. She looked around, but could see nothing, when Teagan came bolting back in, slamming the door shut. “It– what? Teeth? What do you mean has a lot of teeth? What is it?”
“I don’t know.” Teagan said, a little exasperated as she pressed her back against the door. The torple bashed its body against it, shaking the entire place. It seemed to almost follow wherever Bex was, moving along the perimeter to keep up. Further confirmed by the way it shifted away from its place of origin. If that was the case, the nix felt like she needed to take care of the creature. Fast. “It-it was slimy and—no eyes.” A deep breath, “ I’ll take care of it, but you’ll have to stay here, okay?” She hoped maybe Bobbi didn’t see what was happening, that she could be swift enough to bring the torple its end without casualty.
Teagan took a few deep breaths, slipping into her role and growing taller. The door opened a little harshly, threatening, even. Surprise overtook the torple and it bounced back, only taking a blink to recover and bound forward at the same time as Teagan. Her blade pierced its skin, coating her hand in its slime. Maintaining any grip was near impossible, but she kept her blade and body in place to use it as leverage. Air went still, and it was like she could see the single track the torple’s mind was on. A path that led straight to the young woman. It just kept pushing into her blade, kept pushing to get to Bex. Her face contorted into discomfort and strain at the difficulty of keeping her stance and purchase, with limbs and teeth becoming more and more difficult to deflect.
“Slimy?” Bex said, and something was scratching at the back of her mind. She knew this, she knew what it was. She did but she couldn’t remember. Her head pounded, a splitting pain that shot from her temple to her eyes and she pressed her palms against them, shaking her head. “Wait, no, don’t open the–” but it was too late. Teagan was flinging the door open and the creature was lunging inside. It made a squelching noise as flesh met knife and Bex shuddered, wincing. She remembered. It was a torple. It wanted to eat her. And it wasn’t just any torple, it was the torple. Bex remembered the shattered gem on its head, the knife wound that had healed in its side. When it had toppled into the ocean, Bex had thought that’d be the last of it, but it must have just stayed here, waiting for her to return. This was the first time she’d been all the way down to the docks since the incident, and even without most of her magic, the creature could smell her. It remembered her, too.
“Fuck,” Bex hissed, climbing over the table. “Fuck, fuck, fuck!” She whirled around and looked for an exit, she needed to get out. She needed to run. She darted for the sliding glass door in the back, reaching for the handle. But– she couldn’t just leave Teagan. Would it want her? Would it hurt her to get to Bex? She didn’t know. She didn’t know enough. She never knew enough. She had to trust it wouldn’t hurt Teagan. She threw the door open and bolted out, only to be slammed into the side of the boat as a heavy weight knocked against her back. Her head smacked into the guard rail and stars exploded in her vision as she fought to stay standing, the energy quickly sapping from her body. She stumbled against the edge of the boat, the world tilting back and forth as she fought to concentrate on the thing scurrying around her. Blood coated the deck, but none of it was hers. The creature lunged again and Bex ducked under it, scrambling on all fours towards the other side, hands slipping on slick blood. “It won’t stop!” she called out, turning around to keep her eyes on the creature as her back hit the railing. “It only eats magic users and it won’t stop! It hasn’t stopped! I don’t know how to kill it!”
Fear overtook Teagan as the torple slipped out of her reach and beelined towards Bex. She was hurt, on the ground and for a split second, she thought she was bleeding. Sheathing the blade first, her body then lurched forward to tackle the creature, sending the boat swaying a little too much, even for the nix. “If we can’t kill it, we’ll run!” Claws dug in, forcing a screech to pierce the cold air. The sound bit at her hearing, but that didn’t inhibit her ability to toss the thing aside and get to Bex as quickly as possible. To her, it looked like she was about to roll over the railing and fall. That wasn’t good, not at all. She couldn’t swim. “Hold onto me, okay?” Her voice was a little breathless, but still calm as she reached Bex and scooped her arms underneath, raising the witch from her feet.
Teagan whipped her head in multiple directions as she scrambled to get the two of them off the boat. The wound on her neck stung so badly, but she had a role to fill. Failure wasn’t an option. “We’ll get to my car and I’ll drive until we lose it. Just keep holding on.” She tried her best to keep her voice even, to sound calm for Bex. The danger was terrifying, biting at her heels and leaving a trail of slimy destruction as it pursued them.
Bex scrambled up to her feet when Teagan came over and lifted her up, grabbing at the railing again to keep herself standing. Her legs were shaking, arms trembling and the world was gong black around the edges of her vision. “I can’t…” she slurred, tipping back and forth as the boat rocked, “I can’t…” but no more words would come out, her brain too sluggish to come up with the right description of what she was feeling. She couldn’t stand, she couldn’t run, even with the older nix tugging at her and trying to pull her down the boat to the dock. Bex could hear the scrambling of clawed, wet feet on the wooden deck and she looked back for just a moment, stumbling as the boat rocked once more as the torple body slammed itself against the side. Her arm slipped from Teagan’s grasp, and in the next moment, all the air left her lungs as the creature collided with her stomach, knocking her backwards. She slammed into the railing with a crunch and the force of the blow sent her toppling upside down over the rails and into the water.
Saltwater filled her lungs as she gasped. The creature had fallen in beside her again, thrashing about in the waves, chomping down on empty space as it searched for its meal. Bex twisted as much as she could in the water, kicking her legs out, and letting out a torrent of bubbles in a silent scream as teeth clamped soundly onto her arm. Bone crunched underneath its vice grip and blood stained the water around her. Bex’s vision faded faster and faster, despite the pain coursing through her body. She went limp, wishing she could’ve winced at the sound of bone cracking, shattering under the jaw of this creature. Instead, her world went black and her back hit the bottom of the ocean.
Eyes widened as Bex fell into the deadly water, but Teagan didn’t even hesitate. She dove in, ignoring the way her skin begged at her to return to the surface, like it was cracking and being torn to shreds with every second that passed. No air could reach her lungs and it was growing difficult to keep sinking to reach the young spellcaster. Upon seeing the torple tear at her though, she gripped her knife and waded quickly to ward it off. Bellows of bubbles clouded her vision, but she could feel that the attention was on her now. Amidst the thrashing, the blade turned on her and thrust into her side with the torple’s aid. A silent scream turned into a gurgle, no echo to be made. It looked like it finally lost its hunger long enough for the nix to grab hold of Bex and pull her through the top layer of water. She took in the biggest breath of her life as she got the two of them out of the water and onto the dock.
[CPR TW]
Teagan cried out, “Bex, wake up. Please!” She wasn’t moving, she wasn’t breathing. Trembling hands straightened her body and lifted her chin to perform CPR. Her body was numb with adrenaline and her mind was frantic to save someone she cared for. Focus. Focus. With each compression and breath, the fear of failure tightened her chest and welled tears in her eyes until Bex coughed and sputtered water out of her throat. That was the sweetest sound she’d heard in a long time. “Oh thank god. Thank god!”
In the blank void of her unconscious mind, Bex felt a fading memory trying to resurface. She felt as if she were falling, but slowly, so slowly, suspended in time. Her eyes opened to a hazy gleam and she could see the surface up above her, the sun shining lazily through the waves. A shadow cast itself over her, blocking the sunlight. Bex looked up at the shadow and recognized the person’s face, but she couldn’t remember who they were. Who was it, who was it–
Bex coughed and sputtered, water spilling from her mouth as she rolled over to spit it up, clutching her stomach. Her body was shaking, arms trembling, and there was still a great exhaustion clinging to her bones, her muscles. Something was pressing at the back of her eyes, a memory trying to force its way back into her mind. But all it did was make her head scream with pain and Bex grabbed at it, crying out herself. Her eyes felt like they were on fire. She shook her head, reminded of the pain in her arm. “Where-where is it? Is it g-gone?” she asked, her body shivering uncontrollably from the chill of the water and the chill of the air. She looked around for Teagan, then down at her arm. The torple had bitten straight through her coat, her skin, her muscle. She felt sick at the sight. Bone jutted from her arm and she shakily set it back down on her lap, trying not to bump it. Blood was pouring from the hole made by the broken end of her bone. “I have to s-s-stop the b-bleeding.”
[CPR TW END]
The pained cries created heart-throbbing aches in the nix’s chest that pulsed to the rest of her body. Teagan cried quietly with Bex, empathizing with her and shushing her gently while she raked her unclawed hand through the young witch’s hair. “I don’t know.” She replied, inhaling sharply as pain recentered and made itself known. Scales replaced the burn of the salt and wound with momentary relief. The absence of pain was long enough for her to attempt to remove her shirt and utilize it to stem the bleeding. She cried out, realizing her blade was still in her side. Hands trembled, gripping it reluctantly and pulling it out with a shaking whimper.
“We need to get you back to the boat so I can call an ambulance and Mina. I’m so sorry, Bex. I’m sorry.” Every movement was fire as she ripped the shirt and wrapped it around the mauled arm carefully, attempting at resetting what she could without damaging. She felt like she had failed. Bex was alive, but she came out the other side very much worse for wear. “Focus on me, peanut. I’m going to lift you. It’s going to hurt, but I’ll do what I can. We’re going to get you help.” Teagan helped lift Bex to her feet, feeling much weaker than before thanks to the salt and iron. Within mere moments, the pair was back in the boat and by the woodenstove for warmth so she could call for help.
Bex blinked, trying to stave off the darkness that threatened to eat away her vision. It wasn't working very well, but she wanted to stay awake, she needed to stay awake. Teagan's whimper pulled her attention and Bex looked down to see the knife jutting from her side. "Oh gods, y-you-- you're h-hurt t-t-too," she croaked. "And the s-saltwater. You need to soak in fresh w-water." She knew because that was what Mina needed and Teagan was just like Mina. Mina. She wanted Mina. Hands curled into the cloth of Teagan's shirt as Bex cried out when cloth was pressed to her wound. The tie helped slow the bleeding, but it was still oozing and Bex could still see the bone sticking out of the wound.
"No hospital, please. It's not your fault," Bex croaked, voice raw. "It's not, it's not…" she kept repeating herself, even when she cried out as the other girl helped her stand. Tears were mixing with bloody hands as Bex tried her best to wipe them away. "Mina," Bex mumbled, head falling against Teagan, "where's Mina? I need to see...I need to tell her I'm okay. And I'm sorry. I didn't mean to. I just wanted to see if you were okay. It's not your fault, it's not." Delirious with blood loss, Bex slumped in the chair by the stove. "I'm sorry, it was after me...I should've killed it...I thought it was dead…"
Teagan shook her head vehemently, “I’m not leaving until I know you’re okay.” She would never leave or abandon anyone she cared about. Never again. She would run until her legs couldn’t go any farther to protect, and then crawl until she just couldn’t anymore. “Don’t worry about me.” Looking down at the wound, and then her iron knife, she grimaced at knowing what she needed to do. “One moment,” She paused, taking a deep breath before skin sizzled as she pressed the blade to cauterize the area. Her hand muffled the high pitched yelp, and she sighed the moment the metal was pulled away. “Keep breathing deeply and slowly. I need to get you help.”
Call was made quickly to the one person Bex wanted while the nix stood in the shower to wash what salt she could off. It was awkward to keep her head out, but it was better than burning constantly. A text was promptly sent after with the address so Bex could be tended to, not bothering to change into dry pants but putting on a new shirt. Teagan’s face contorted to one of concern and guilt, swallowing thickly as her throat became too small. “Hey, hey, no. I just texted Mina, sweet one.” Needing to help, she slipped next to Bex and carefully wrapped a languid arm around the girl to provide a sense of whatever security she could. It burned. It burned so much, but she didn’t care. A little pain never bothered her. Especially when she needed to help.
“No, stop– wait!” Bex tried to reach out for Teagan, but her arm bumped and she cried out, tears automatically filling her eyes from the shock of the pain alone. Fuck it hurt, it hurt so much. She tried to shake it off, shaking her head. “No, no ambulance. Please, just– just Mina. I just want Mina.” She didn’t want to make Mina come rushing to the hospital for her again. She wanted Morgan, too, but she was in another country. She’d have to call her. She wanted her to come home. More tears welled up in Bex’s eyes and she wiped them away with her good hand, blood smearing on her cheeks.
Bex leaned against Teagan when the other girl offered a shoulder, but she felt guilty, looking at the cauterized wound on her side. She could smell the burnt flesh. Another memory tried to pull itself forward in her mind and her vision speckled. A boy, a knife, Mina. Burning flesh, a wound too deep. She was dying. Bex shook her head, sitting up straight, biting her tongue to keep from crying out again. At this point, she needed a frequent flier card for the hospital. She was shivering, still, from the soaked clothes she was still in, but the thought of trying to change seemed an impossible task. She just wanted to sleep. “I’m so tired,” she said, breath stuttering in her chest. Her heart was working too hard, she could feel it. “I’m so tired…”
“No ambulance, sweet girl. Mina is on her way.” Teagan shushed Bex gently, holding her close and feeling just how cold she was. Carefully, she shuffled herself away to get a change of clothes and a heated blanket. “I can help you change if you want. Or you can sit on this and have it wrapped around you, you’ll be nice and toasty.” She wanted to cry seeing the girl so broken and stained with red. But she needed to be strong and level headed for her. She needed to be proactive. “Here.” The blanket was draped over her, plugged in, and turned on as she kneeled down next to Bex. The young witch needed to know she wasn’t alone. “Just stay under this and let me know if you want to attempt to change. Don’t worry about staining anything.”
Teagan walked over to her sink and grabbed a cloth to soak it, returning to Bex promptly and wiping the blood off of her face. When that was done, she moved the injured arm from under the blanket to elevate it on a pillow and continue to stem the bleeding. It was slowing down significantly, but still spilling out more than she’d like. Not to mention, she wasn’t too well versed in resetting bones, only doing it a handful of times with direction. “Are you warm? Keep your mind moving and keep talking. I’m sorry, but you can’t sleep yet. Mina will be here soon. Just a little longer.”
Bex shook her head vehemently. “I d-don’t want to m-move it,” she said, using her chin to gesture to her arm. She couldn’t look at it, it made her feel sick. She remembered the sound of it reverberating under the water as her bone snapped in two. And probably many more pieces. She wished she had the power to mend bone, she’d been reading up on it, on how to do it, in order to help Mina, since the girl seemed to break things so often– but now she supposed she might be out pacing her. And that wasn’t good. Bex was fragile and she knew she was, but all she’d wanted to do was check up on a friend. She grit her teeth and let tears streak down her face.
She used her good arm to pull the blanket around her and hold it in place, curling up on herself a little bit. “I’m o-okay,” she said, teeth chattering, “I’m just t-tired.” She wanted to go to sleep, she wanted to lay down. Her arm was resting on a pillow on the table and she moved enough to lay her head beside it. Her breath was coming up heavy and wheezing and the clenching feeling in her chest was all too familiar. Mina would be upset. She needed her medication. “My p-purse,” she said, “I need the bottle of p-pills.”
At this point, Mina should be used to getting concerning text messages. Still, it always made her stomach sink every time one would come in. She’d been leaning against the edge of the pool, considering getting out or going back under when she checked her phone and saw the message from Teagan, and she’d barely thought anything through as she pulled herself out, rushed inside to grab her keys, and driven to the address that had been provided, bare feet pressing firmly against the pedal as she raced to get there as soon as she could.
And that was how Mina ended up standing outside of a houseboat in the cold, wearing nothing but shorts and a tanktop as she waited for the older nix, her sister, to open the door so that she could see what was wrong. She needed to know what was wrong. She didn’t even know if she was trembling because of the cold or the weather, but her hands were shaking as she knocked on the door and waited for it to open.
Nodding in understanding, Teagan found Bex’s purse hastily and retrieved the pills just as a knock pulled her attention to the door. “That must be Mina.” She handed the pills over and whipped around to rush over, looking a little worse for wear as she practically ripped the door open. Being a protector was all she wanted to be, but Bex did not look like she had done her job correctly. A little selfishly, she hoped Mina wouldn’t hate her for not being able to do enough. It already felt like she was on thin ice, waiting for it to shatter beneath her. “She’s—a creature. Attacked. I tried to—She-she’s sitting over there. Said no ambulance.” Sentences were spoken in a broken manner, unable to be articulated correctly and coming out the way she was thinking them.
Teagan ushered Mina inside, wondering if she should get another set of clothes for her too. The younger nix looked like she had been in the middle of a swim and swiftly came over the moment the call ended. “She-she has a broken arm and-and I think the bite is still hurting her magic.” Her voice was meek, so small as the nixies walked the short distance from the entry to the couch. “A doctor needs to look at her arm. But she was adamant about not going to the hospital.”
Mina followed Teagan inside, taking in the other nix’s appearance before her eyes searched out Bex. “She hasn’t been able to gain her magic back since it happened,” she said, her voice quiet but not showing the amount of panic that she felt. Broken arms could be dealt with. “You–” She looked at Teagan, realizing that all three of them were wet, which wasn’t good in Teagan and Bex’s case. “You need to rinse the salt water off of you before it dries out your skin too much.” And she didn’t say it, but, really, a houseboat on the ocean was such a silly place for a nix to live. Even Mina knew that, and she wasn’t that good at being a nix. “It’s okay. I’ll see about her, alright?”
Then Mina finally turned to Bex, making sure she had her pills. She knelt down beside her. “You need to take those, and then I need to see your arm,” she said. Then they needed to get Bex warm, and quickly. She looked at the arm that was wrapped up, seeing the way that blood was already staining. “Can you tell me what happened?” she asked, knowing that if Bex could talk to her for a bit, then it’d be easier to assess what was wrong. “You know, this isn’t really what resting looks like, right?”
Bex heard voices but they were muffled in her drowsy state. She was having a hard time keeping her eyes open, feeling more and more tired by the minute. She didn’t think she could really get more tired without actually passing out, but she needed to stay awake. Despite wanting to sleep. She wanted nothing more than to sleep and to curl up in Mina’s arms. She wanted Mina.
And then Mina was here. Bex saw her just barely in her cloudy vision. Everything was still hazy, but Mina’s face was clear and sharp as Bex blinked to focus. “Mina,” she said and she smiled through the wheezing in her chest. “I’m sorry, I just wanted to bring her flowers. I thought it was safe…” she muttered, her words slurring together. “Just bad luck, I guess.” She could feel herself growing loopier by the second, her body still shivering even under the heated blanket. Her eyes went to her arm, and the blood stained cloth wrapped around it. “It’s not good,” she said, trying to sit up a little. A trembling hand reached out for her pills. “It’s still alive. The–” she swallowed, throat dry– “the torple. It was here. It bit my arm. Kn-knocked me into the water.”
“I’m fine. Already rinsed.” Teagan answered quickly, not particularly used to any sort of concern. Though she’d be lying, and it hurt to lie, if she said it didn’t bring a warmth to her chest. Mina cared, even if it was out of moral obligation. Better than nothing, she supposed.
Teagan used her small microwave to reheat the lukewarm tea as the couple spoke. “I jumped in after her when she fell in.” She muttered a little dejectedly, still disappointed in herself. But she had a task to focus on, so she shifted her attention back on it. Bex needed to take her medicine and her throat was dry. The two needed space and she needed something to do that would provide some sort of help. It seemed like the perfect task at the moment.
The second the microwave signaled with it’s beep, Teagan swiped the mug into her hands and offered it to Bex, but handed it to Mina since she’d actually be capable of holding it. Even help her fiancée drink it. “Here. For your pill and your throat.” She turned, shuffling to the other side of the room quietly. “Let me know if you need anything else.”
Mina gave Teagan a nod, noting that she’d already taken care of herself before she turned back to Bex. “It’s okay,” she murmured. “You’ve been having a lot of bad luck recently, haven’t you?” Which was apparently a curse, which was just perfect, really. “It’s still alive?” she asked, already concerned, already thinking about what she could do about that. If need be, she could just jump into the water. She wouldn’t be able to breath, and it’d hurt, but she could have approximately thirty minutes to find the creature before her body gave out. Or she could find someone else to hunt it down. Whatever the case, though, it needed to be dealt with, and soon.
When Teagan came to her, Mina took the mug and helped Bex drink some of it to take her pill. “Let that get in your system, and then I need to set the bone, okay?” Broken bones were old hat for Mina. Really, at this point, she would have made a decent field medic. She looked at Teagan. “Do you have anything for pain? This is going to be very, very bad.”
Bex looked from Mina to Teagan as the older girl handed off a mug of tea. She sat up, her body still trembling, and reached out to hold the cup as Mina put it to her lips. It was warm and soothing and felt nice going down, even as pain still thrummed in her arm. She blinked, feeling the panic begin to set in at the words. More pain. She knew they had to set the bone, but she couldn’t help the fear the anticipation brought on. “It– it’s bad– I don’t–” Mina hadn’t seen it yet, though. It was worse than she was probably imagining. She sat up all the way, then, drawing her arm closer to herself. Her eyes went to Teagan, then back to Mina.
“M-maybe it’ll just heal, r-right?” she asked, but even she knew that wasn’t true. She felt cold and clammy and in pain and she didn’t want things to get worse. She just wanted to go home and lay down and go to sleep. Hope tomorrow was better. Under the rags was a mess of bone and muscle and skin and blood and Bex didn’t want Mina to see it. “A-a least put gloves on first. It’s– there’s– a lot of blood.”
Without saying a word, Teagan darted to her medicine cabinet and fetched extra strength pain relievers. They wouldn’t do much until thirty minutes after being taken, but it was all she had. When she returned, she caught the last comment about gloves and grabbed disposable ones from under her kitchen sink. “Here you go.” Handing over the materials to Mina, she navigated her way to sitting next to Bex. “I have some experience resetting, but if you’re comfortable, then you should take over.” She looked at the witch, sitting there pitifully and pale from blood loss. Eyes softened and glistened with tears threatening to spill over, but she blinked them away. Bex needed the two nixies to be strong.
“I can just be here for your support, little peanut.”
“It can’t be anything worse than some of the things I’ve seen before,” Mina said. She sighed, carefully putting the mug down and looking at Bex. She’d already lost a lot of blood. She couldn’t stand to lose much more. They needed to set the bone, stop the bleeding. “I’ve set quite a few bones,” she murmured to Teagan. Hers and other people’s. She took the gloves and took them, and she wasn’t used to wearing them while she was doing things like this, and it was strange, but she’d do it anyway.
“It’s not going to just go away. You know that,” Mina said. The truth was that she’d do what she could, but Mina wasn’t a doctor. If they had to take Bex to the hospital, then they’d go to the hospital. “I might need you to hold her arm still,” she told Teagan. Then, she looked at Bex. “Is that okay? If it’s that bad, and you jerk, it could make things worse.”
The anticipation of the pain was building in Bex’s chest and her breathing was growing shallower, faster. She knew Mina was right, it wasn’t just going to get better, it needed to be seen. She needed to go to a doctor, but they needed to set it first. She’d never make it if they didn’t. She was surprised she hadn’t passed out yet, but she supposed it was the adrenaline of the shock and the icy cold water that was keeping her awake, despite her eyes wanting nothing more than to close. She nodded stiffly, shivering and wincing as it disturbed the position she’d had her arm in on the pillow. “Okay,” she said, breathing out, “okay. Just– do it fast, please.” She looked over at Teagan as the girl sat beside her and she moved her good hand over to clutch the other girl’s.
When she looked back at Mina, face pale, she made sure to keep her gaze. “I’m ready,” she told her, even though she wasn’t. She just wanted this over with. She really just wanted this over with.
Teagan moved to wrap her arm around Bex’s shoulder. Both to comfort and to reach her injured limb to hold it in place while keeping their hands clasped together. The leftover salt from the water burned, but she ignored it. She had to. “I’ve got a good hold. Do what you need to.” Her eyes were locked with Mina’s and her voice was steady despite the panic coiling in her stomach. She wished it had been her who had been attacked, not Bex.
Nodding at her sister, she saw just how scared the witch was and nudged her chin to look at her. Teagan needed to distract so Mina could do her job swiftly. “Hey, what colors are Mina’s scales? Are they a different color than mine?” Opalescent scales with shades of blue, green, and purple covered her shoulders to her jaw. When it seemed like she had Bex’s attention, she signaled with her eyes for Mina to proceed.
With quick fingers, Mina undid the wrap around Bex’s arm and took in the injury. They’d need to go to the hospital, quickly, as soon as they finished setting the bone. If she had more equipment, or if Bex healed fast, then she wouldn’t be as worried. But she was worried, very worried. This would need to be done as quickly as possible so that she could get Bex to the hospital. She looked over at Teagan briefly before turning back to Bex’s broken arm. “It’ll be fast, okay?” Mina said quietly. More to herself, she counted. “One. Two.”
She never made it to three, instead setting the bone back into place and pressing back down on the skin there, trying to stem the bleeding. She knew that was the most important part, now that the bone was set. She wrapped the cloth back around it tight, pressing down. She looked at Bex to see how she was making it. It was over as fast as she could manage it.
Bex could feel her heart rate increasing and her breath began to stutter. She clenched her jaw and tried her best to steady her breathing in an attempt to keep from hyperventilating. Her heart was pounding in her chest, a small whimper on her lips as Teagan secured her arm in place. She looked up at Mina and nodded. “Okay,” she whispered. Turned her head as Teagan nudged her and she knew what she was doing, she was distracting her so Mina could get it done quickly, so that Bex didn’t react and try and pull her arm away. “S-silver,” she said, trying to let the distraction work. Her body trembled, her lip quivering. Heart beating faster and faster. She couldn’t breathe. “Some on her leg are blue, though. They sh-shine so nice in the sun–”
She didn’t get to finish. On two, the bone snapped back into place. Bex’s entire body flooded with pain and she clenched Teagan’s hand so hard, she feared she might break it as well. The scream that left her throat reverberated in the small space of the house boat as Bex cried out in anguish. This, she thought, this was the most painful thing she’d ever felt. She’d rather take another stab to the gut. It would hurt less than this. The pain was white hot and it took over her vision and everything was so bright and loud– and then it went black, and Bex slumped forward onto the table, unconscious.
The scream pierced Teagan’s hearing and she squeezed her eyes shut, wincing at the painful pitch and her tightening grip. For someone so thin, Bex had amazing strength. Her cries made the nix want to burst into tears for not protecting her better. What good was she if she couldn’t do her job? “It’s okay, it’s okay…” She held the girl tighter, shushing gently and holding her as her scream faded and she slumped over.
Mina was still finishing up when she managed to get Bex back to a sitting position, still unconscious. “I can carry her to your car. She needs a doctor for a break that bad.” Teagan had a hunch her sister knew exactly what to do, but her statement was more to let her know she was also aware. That she had Mina’s back. “Let’s get her out of here.”
Mina expected a scream, expected it to be bad, but that didn’t stop her heart from breaking a little more as she completed working on Bex’s arm. When she was done, she took off the gloves and brushed some of Bex’s hair away from her face, moving her hand down her cheek to wipe away some of the tears. Perhaps it was a good thing that Bex had passed out. She was less likely to hurt that way.
Bristling at the thought of quite literally putting Bex’s life into someone else’s hands, Mina forced herself to relax before she gave Teagan a nod. “I would appreciate that.” She knew Bex needed a doctor. She didn’t need things that she already knew repeated to her. She stood up, grabbing her keys. “I keep some spare clothes in my car,” she added as they walked outside. Enough for the two of them, at least, so that they didn’t look too strange carrying a young woman with a broken arm into the ER, all three of them still wet. Though, she had a feeling that they wouldn’t be the weirdest little group that the hospital saw. Not by a long shot. Bex and Mina, at least, would be familiar faces. Mina really, really hated hospitals.
Anonymous asked:
☤ (you know i had to / lovelyrozanova)
Send a ☤ to visit my muse in the hospital.
it was all over the news: national television. web articles. and ilya had no idea.
the game started out as usual. the raiders versus the metros. the stadium was packed, it was one of the final games before the playoffs. rozanov and hollander were going at it, goals being scored left and right. it was going to go down as one of the highest-scoring games in history if they kept it up.
it's the third period when it happens. ilya had slowed down, just a bit. he stood to the side for a moment to catch his breath after a goal, bent over, hands on knees. cameras zoomed in on him instantly. "very atypical behavior from rozanov." he assured the ref he was fine and was back out on the ice moments later. a minute passes, maybe two. he's out before he hits the ice. "and rozanov is DOWN—"
utter chaos. the crowd erupts in shock before going silent as they assess him. the reporters go back and forth, narrating what they're seeing. there's a collective gasp as one of the trainers waves an arm for back-up while another starts chest compressions. the rink is silent, as if everyone is holding their breath. they get him back after a few rounds, and then they move. he still doesn't wake. the rest of the game is cancelled. no one is declared a winner. they will have to re-play. without rozanov, no doubt.
ilya comes back in pieces. the first time during an MRI. he's able to open his eyes, and that's about it. the second time is worse. panic sets in. he pulls the oxygen mask from his face, goes straight for the IV in his arm, clutches at his chest in pain from broken ribs. they calm him down, not explaining what happened to him just yet. they're still trying to figure it out, to an extent.
the next two days are a blur. teammates come in and out, most people talk around the elephant in the room and wish him well. shane is the first to tell him the truth about what happened. the sudden collapse. the CPR. the way the news is milking the story like a prized heifer.
it's bright when he opens his eyes. early morning, probably. he feels a soft, small hand wrapped around one of his fingers. the oxygen mask has been replaced with a smaller cannula. he's still hooked up to quite a bit of machinery, but not nearly as much as he was initially.
when he looks to his left, he swears he's hallucinating. katya. it wasn't right. she should be across the ocean. guilt settles painfully in his chest. they hadn't seen each other in what felt like forever. and now here she was. ❝ katyusha. ❞
