Note: this takes place in the path where Rezanii is shot
It happened between one breath and the next. One moment, Rezanii was standing on the platform, voice projecting over the crowd, and the next—
A crack splitting the air—
And blood, so much blood, spreading across their chest.
Faustino grabbed Rezanii, clutching them against his chest as if that could do anything to fix what had already happened. He screamed their name, once, twice, again—
He had failed Rezanii once before. During the war, when Rezanii had been taken prisoner. Faustino had searched for Rezanii for months, but so many people had said Rezanii was dead, and eventually Faustino gave up. And then, of course, Rezanii had been alive. It had been beautiful and wonderful, but it was all tinged with the sharp, acrid taste of guilt. Of knowing that while Faustino was free, Rezanii had been held captive.
And here, again, in this humid little town where the palm trees swayed and the sun beat down on a panicking crowd, Faustino had failed.
The security forces had already closed around them.Â
“Enyi Vice President, are you okay?”
“We’ll have him examined at the hospital.”
“That’s not my blood,” Faustino managed to say. He clung to Rezanii’s limp form as the piercing wail of sirens filled the air.
“We need to put pressure on it,” Nura said. Faustino nodded, setting Rezanii down and pressing on the wound.
They couldn’t die. Not here. Not anywhere, not now.
“We’ll take care of you. Don’t worry. Just—don’t worry,” Faustino said. “Please.”
“Enyi Vice President—“
“Acting President Marellii—“
Faustino pushed past the people surrounding him, muttering apologies as he forced his way down the hallway before ducking into the bathroom. The door slammed behind him and he locked it with shaking hands before stumbling over to the sink.
Faustino kept the thought buried beneath a layer of panic. He didn’t need anyone overhearing his fear. Not when he was sure there was enough fear throughout the country.Â
If only that caused the thoughts themselves to vanish.
He looked down. Blood stained his shirt, his skin.Â
Faustino’s hands shook as he turned on the tap and pulled the shirt off. He scrubbed, the warm water turning hot and burning his skin as he worked. The blood flowed from the shirt but more remained, no matter how hard he fought it.
He called to his magic, forcing more water out of the faucet. But it wasn’t enough.Â
The door to the bathroom creaked open and Faustino looked up as Michi stepped in.
“Any update? How are they?” Faustino asked.
“They’ve been taken into surgery,” Michi said.Â
“I see,” Faustino rocked back and forth on the balls of his feet, trying his best to suppress the nausea he felt. “I see, and–”
“We’ll know more soon,” Michi said. “It’s not as bad as it could have been. Security services have apprehended the shooter, and they’re investigating why this happened.”
“What if Rezanii dies?” Faustino said.Â
“There’s a succession plan—“
He gripped the edges of the sink, struggling to keep from panicking. It was possible to feel the rush of the water in the pipes. His magic called to it as if it could offer protection. But there was nothing his magic could do for this.
“I don’t know what to do if I lose them,” he said.Â
Michi took a step closer and rested a hand on his shoulder. “That’s not something you need to think about yet.”
“Don’t I?” Faustino said.
“Not yet. Not until the doctors say so. And if they say so, we’ll fly Rezanii somewhere else,” Michi said. They glanced to the side occasionally, responding to messages and checking calls. “We have allies with better medical systems. It’s not unheard of for a leader to go elsewhere for care.”
“How are you so calm?” Faustino asked. He looked at Michi, eyes wide, hopeful for some answer that would help him find composure.
“Because right now, we have no choice,” Michi said. “The people need to hear from you. You’re the acting president.”
Faustino shook his head, turning back to staring at the sink. “All they need is an update. Can you not do it?”
“People need to hear from you,” they said. “Not an unelected advisor.”
“What do I say?” Faustino asked. It had been a day since the inauguration. What could he say that would comfort anyone?
“Be honest,” Michi replied. They wrinkled their nose. “Not too honest. But tell them you understand. They’re scared. They’re terrified about what this means. Tell them you understand, but that you can lead until Rezanii can take back the presidency. Not if. When.”
“Alright. Alright,” Faustino said.
“You should wear a shirt.” Michi handed him a tunic and Faustino dried his hands and took it. “Are you ready?”
“I understand. But it’s time anyway,” they said.
Faustino nodded, pulled on the new tunic, and with his stomach still churning, left the bathroom.
“Enyi Vice President. Rezanii is out of surgery.”
Faustino stood up, abandoning the video call he’d been on and slamming the laptop shut despite Arellii's irritated yell.
“How are they? Can I see them?” he asked. The doctor nodded, stepping to the side to allow him to exit.
“They did well,” she said. “They’re still unconscious, but they should make a full recovery.”
“Yes. Yes. Thank you,” Faustino said.Â
They stopped outside of the hospital room door, and Faustino paused.
“You can go in,” the doctor said.
Faustino swallowed. He had more meetings, more work to do, but—
Just a moment. He’d just take a moment at their side and then go. That would be fine.Â
Hospitals were familiar. Faustino had spent half his childhood in one. It only took a moment for him to conjure a dozen memories of Rezanii sitting at his bedside. Sometimes they’d joke together, sometimes they’d trade gossip from school for gossip from the hospital ward, and sometimes they’d just sit by him when he was too weak to chat.Â
The weeks after Rezanii had been freed from Kortapolis had been the first time the roles had been reversed. Now it was happening again.Â
“I’m sorry,” Faustino whispered. He reached for Rezanii, hesitating a millimeter away from their hand. “I’m so sorry. I should have—“
Should have made them take Nura on stage. Should have told them to wear a bulletproof vest. Should have saved them.Â
“Feeling guilty isn’t going to help you, is it?” Faustino muttered. They laid silently on the bed, the heart monitor beeping. “Well, things are stable. That’s good. You won’t wake up to an extra crisis, at least.”
He closed the last bit of distance and took their hand. It was cold in his grasp but he could feel Rezanii’s soft heartbeat.
“I love you,” Faustino said. “In so many ways. I just… I hope you know. I should tell you more. But I love you.”
A soft knock came at the door and an aide peeked in.Â
“Enyi Vice President. You’re needed,” he said.Â
“Of course,” Faustino said.Â
He forced himself to let go of their hand and left the room with one last look back.Â
