A/N: Hullo all. Just a little something that's been sitting on my computer doing nothing for far too long. We never really got a look into what Gideon was thinking when Gwen, well, died, so here's my take on it. Hope you enjoy it!
Disclaimer: The Ruby Red Trilogy and all characters associated with it do not belong to me, no matter how much I might wish otherwise.
Gideon doesn't know how long he sits there after Gwen's eyes flutter closed, after he declares his love with her dying breath. Some indeterminate amount of time later that familiar dizzy feeling takes hold in the pit of his stomach, and he's gathering up Gwen and pulling her close and rocking her back and forth because she's not really dead, she can't be. This is all some sick joke, and in a moment he'll wake up back home in his bed and Gwen will be perfectly fine, and he won't be covered in bright red blood, her blood. And then the room has materialized around him and he's scooped up Gwen's limp form and he's running running running through unfamiliar hallways trying to find the way back to the others. If Gwen were with him right now, she'd be rolling her eyes and laughing, tugging him along in the proper direction, smiling and full of life. But she's not with him right now, and there's a good chance she never will be again and Gideon just can't handle the fact that Gwen is actually gone. He can hear her voice in his head barking instructions about staunching the bleeding and repairing the aorta and every single bit of medical knowledge he's accumulated over the years is banging about in his head and he's so scared and upset that he just can't think straight and there's buckets of tears pouring down his cheeks, but he really doesn't give a damn because he's finally managed to make it to the basement and now Gwen might, just might, have a fighting chance. And then he's in through the doorway and Dr. White is staring and he's vaguely aware of the fact that he must look insane, clothes stained with Gwen's lifeblood and face stained with tears. He's shouting for arterial clamps and a scalpel and all the things necessary to attempt to save the life of the girl he loves who's far too pale and far too still lying splayed out on the table where he's put her, and Dr. White is looking at him like he's a madman and suddenly Gwen is moving and groaning and her dress is being cut away and Gideon can only stare, numb with shock, as her bright blue eyes flutter open. He's only half aware of what's going on around him because he's completely focused on Gwen and the small and mildly deep gash that's replaced the hole he swears he saw, the hole that a sword had ripped in her heart not five minutes ago, and he can't seem to take his eyes off her. Falk grabs his shoulder and pulls him out of the room rambling about whiskey and the principal's office and shock but Gideon isn't listening because he's too busy thinking about Gwen and how glad he is that she's alive and breathing, if a little bit worse for the wear, and how much of an arse he's been to her. The last thing Gideon remembers as he tumbles into bed that night utterly exhausted is the feel of Gwen's blood welling up through his fingers, and the terrible aching sense of loss that accompanied it, and how utterly devastated she looked when he told her he just wanted to be friends. He resolves to make it right in the morning, but for now he's content to be back home in his bed with the knowledge that Gwen is perfectly fine, or at least not dead, because if he had really lost her tonight he's not sure he would still be able to function. She means the world to him, and he vows to tell her at the first chance he gets.