I bound his arm as best I could, using almost every bandage I had. I needed to buy supplies. I couldn't go out, but I needed to buy supplies.

He was asleep now. Not conscious. He would never voluntarily sleep on the top of the bed or have let me touch him. I'd covered him lightly, partly with the rough motel bed spread and partly with my hooded top, softer for where his bare chest was exposed. It was the best I could do. I was terrified if I had moved him more he would have woken, distressed and disoriented.

I sat on the edge of the bed, careful not to touch him again. It was so strange. Before, we were always tactile, it's just the way we were, how we had both survived Sofia, reassurance from each other we were surviving. I'd also made sure Cal was independent though. As strong as he could be in all forms from an early age.

No, that was wrong…Life had made Cal strong - Cal had made Cal strong. He had to be to survive Sofia, we both did. He had a will that not even the Grendel would break. I knew it as sure as I knew the sun would rise.

I may have made sure he was independent, but Cal had always made sure he let me that know that he knew exactly what I was doing and why. That he knew I did what I did for him, and him alone. Sometimes that was just a lop-sided grin, sometimes it was letting me pick him up when he was probably too old for it, sometimes it was hugging me back when he'd arrived back from somewhere unavoidably late and scared the shit out of me. Which had luckily not happened more than two occasions - seared into my brain for all eternity.

I leaned to pick what was probably the last bandage we had, from the floor where it lay unravelled. I began rolling the coarse crepe slowly between my fingers, sure to line up the edges. It was quiet, except for the repetitive creak of the old heating system from the radiator against the wall and Cal's breathing, unnervingly raspy, but at least steady, his arm now well wrapped and the bleeding stemmed.

I turned to look at him. I wanted so badly to just take his hand, or rest mine upon his shoulder, but I dared not. There was something new etched across his face, behind the gaunt features. Pain. I knew that in my soul, like I knew it was in his, a plague of pain had taken him. A deep pain I feared I couldn't quell, couldn't chase away this time. Could I really fix this? Could I bring him back to me - all the way back? Would he ever be back? Ever be the same? No. He'd never be the same. I didn't need the same. I just needed my brother.

I placed the bandage on the nightstand, tearing my eyes away from his sleeping form. I let my head fall into my hands, propped up on my knees. Could I do this? Was I strong enough for us both? I took my own deep, shuddering breath. I wasn't prepared. I couldn't do this. Alone. I wasn't enough, was I? I felt the room start to spin, starting to close in on me.

I felt sobs start to rack my own exhausted form. I couldn't do this. Any of this. I knew I had to. I knew I had to hold it together but I had never felt less together or less in control than in that moment, except when he was taken, when I saw that swirling mass of silver close behind him. I felt a failure. I had already failed him. Broken the promise I had made to myself as a mere toddler. The silent promise I had made to him, not only myself. To love, to care, to protect.

I'd never really told him how deeply I felt. He was my responsibility, I would never have burdened him with my thoughts, on my own choices, and how much they had become such an integral part of me. Of how he had become such an integral part of who I was. I don't think I had ever truly understood it myself, not until he was taken. I'm not sure I understood it now, but there were things you just knew, in your soul, and how I felt about Cal was just that.

I'd hoped he knew. I'd hoped I had shown him enough love and affection to show him - even if perhaps I had not voiced it directly. I had tried my best to over-ride the hatred and filth that came from our mother's mouth every day. To calm the burn of her actions on his young body, to take some of the sting from her wicked words. But I realised in that moment that perhaps he did not know. Perhaps he did not realise just what I would do for him, to keep him safe. To bring him back from the darkness that threatened to take him forever, whether in this world or another.

Perhaps he did not know what I would have given to have followed him into that abyss, just what I would have given up without hesitation to spare him from the pain. To bare it for him. I would take any pain for him.

I was becoming consumed by my thoughts. A whirlpool of self-pity but I could not stop the sobs, as hard as I tried to contain them. I slipped from the bed to the floor, trying to pull back my control. As I swiped at my eyes I glanced to my left to see beautiful grey eyes watching me, carefully. He was awake.

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