Heart Over Matter
Disclaimer: I wish, but no, I don't own the characters/show.
Spoilers: Season 2's finale "Kali."
Author's Note: I've been an adoring fan for a while but any fan fic I'd start to write for this amazing series just seemed to fall short of publish worthy. Season 2's finale was just so "Wow…" however, that I couldn't help but put fingers to keyboard and finally came up with this little one-shot. Hope you enjoy reading it as much as I did writing it. Cheers!
A small part of him wonders briefly, somewhere in the back of his mind, if this is what it feels like to go insane.
He thinks of himself on a razor's edge, any sudden movements and all is lost. He's slipped already, several times in fact, but that voice, so unlike Kali's, calls to him, urges him to catch himself, to not let that fall be his last. He knows that voice, its soothing timbre capable of keeping the darkest of forces at bay. There is sanctuary in that voice…
Sanctuary.
The images and words that suddenly race through his fevered mind stun this little piece of himself that he's been able to hang on to. Too much, too many, can't-
But the voice is there again, a calm hand now accompanying it as its fingers brush through his hair and sweep across his temples comfortingly.
Those fingers, he knows them too; soft but deft, capable of such care or destruction.
Magnus.
The word, the name, resounds even deeper than before. But the memories come back slower, as if retrieved from a special place that the delirium of his mind couldn't reach.
Her smile, her passion, her tears, her intelligence, even her wardrobe, it's all there in dazzling Technicolor and he can't understand how he could have forgotten.
But with these memories more recent ones surface, and he remembers other things: the Makri, the old woman, the evil man, Big Bertha.
She'd trusted him, and he'd failed her, and in doing so he might have very well doomed them all.
No, there had to be another way, somehow. He couldn't let her down, not again. Whatever reasons she may have had for keeping Bertha alive didn't matter, he trusted her, he knew that she would have done everything in her power to secure the safety of the world and the Abnormal. She'd done all she could; it was his fault that the one thing that could truly control Bertha was now in the hands of a maniac. Bertha, Kali, she was still calling to him, all was not lost yet.
He wanted to tell her this, to tell her all his theories and most of all to say how sorry he was for allowing this to happen in the first place.
But with his struggle to gain back control over his mind came the pain, and with it he knew he was in no shape to do anything, much less apologize.
He was dying, albeit slowly, but this awareness only solidified his resolve. If he could do this one thing for her before he left, if he could save any of the lives that might be lost, then he could die with a clear conscious.
Purposefully allowing the fevered state that he had beaten back to consume him once again, the last cognizant effort he made before resuming his search for Kali was one simple word pushed through pale lips.
"Sorry."
The word, however, was swallowed by the cries he'd made since his first return from the dead, and so was lost on the dark-haired woman in a white doctor's coat as she tried to calm her precious protégé and friend.