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#3 Jolt!

[1] to cause to move with a sudden jerky motion

[2] to give a knock or blow to; specifically: to jar with a quick or hard blow

[3] a: to disturb the composure of :shock; b: to interfere with roughly, abruptly, and disconcertingly

It should have been a bright, summer day. The weather was beautiful, the birds were singing, and Luke was on the verge of falling to his death.

Luke grit his teeth and clenched his eyes shut when he felt the ground begin to crumble beneath his feet. He shouldn't be so calm about the prospect of falling like this, but the rest of the party was too far away and there weren't any handholds that he could see. Luke didn't even think to scream or holler as he staggered back, the movement causing further degradation to the cliff side and expediting the process.

He knew he couldn't use fonic artes to give him an extra boost up, and he knew that there was no way he was agile enough to somehow pull himself out of this.

In the split second it took to realize he was falling and then realize that there was nothing he could do about it, Luke's brain had shut down and there was nothing in his head at all. It was hopeless, so he might as well not see the end coming.

Falling, falling.

And then everything stopped.

Luke refused to open his eyes, refused to acknowledge that there was an iron vice grip on his wrists from two different pairs of hands. If the end had really come this quickly, it would be cruel to try and open his eyes and see himself on the rocks below. What a last look it would be. The grip stayed strong and those green eyes remained closed as tightly as he could get them. The world had slowed to a crawl and still Luke's head offered nothing.

If he was dead, he wanted to stay like this, calm and painless.

There was no way that he was being dragged back over the cliff face, landing blissfully on dusty, solid ground. There was no way that he heard gasps of exertion and noises of pain, or smell the coppery scent of blood on his nose.

If this wasn't real, it would just be too cruel.

Hands weren't fisting in his collar, and he absolutely didn't hear a voice that shot straight to his heart, laced with pain and absolutely frantic.

Luke woke up.

He opened his eyes only to come face to face with a bright and panicked blue, intense and half crazed.

"…Luke! Luke, are you okay? Speak to me, damnit!" Guy demanded, voice tight, giving Luke a short shake. Seeing his hands and arms, Luke immediately knew where the blood had come from; the swordsman's lower arms and palms were ripped half to shreds and smeared with dirt and gravel. It mixed with his blood, giving it a too-sluggish texture and the colors of a battlefield.

The feeling that raced through him now made him feel as if he'd never truly breathed before. Every bit of air that reached his lungs felt like ice and Luke had gone from feeling nothing at all to being filled with blind terror. Still on his knees in the dirt, he began to shake and he couldn't even feel ashamed when tears began to well up in the corners of his eyes and slip down his cheeks.

That had been enough of a response for Guy apparently, and Luke found himself being crushed against a warm, broad chest. Guy was shaking too, and Luke murmured an apology into his shirt. He wasn't positive what he was saying sorry for, only that he was.

Fingers raked through long red hair and Luke heard Guy say a shaken thank you to Tear, and Luke realized with a start that she must have been the one clinging onto his other hand, long, feminine fingers leaving clench marks as impressive as Guy's had.

"You should heal those," the redhead finally said when he'd calmed, gesturing to Guy's arms. The man may as well have been deaf for as much as he'd reacted, and Luke reached up to squeeze his upper arms. "Guy?"

"I thought you were going to die. I didn't think I'd make it in time."

I thought I was going to die too.

"I didn't, though. That's important, right?" Luke asked tentatively. The expression on his friend's face was still drawn and stressed, though, and he could see Anise fidgeting slightly from just out of earshot. He could see Jade's hand clamped firmly on her shoulder; the only thing keeping her from darting over. He pulled away and leaned up, drawing just near enough to brush Guy's forehead with his own. "I'm okay. It was close, but you made it. You didn't let me go."

These seemed to be the magic words, and Guy finally seemed to look at him and see him alive instead of the horrible possibilities in his head.

Checking briefly to see that Tear had her head turned away, Luke tilted his head and dropped a light kiss to Guy's lips, feeling him shudder slightly. Any other time, Guy shuddering would have been cause for excitement, now, it was in pure relief and they both knew it.

"Come on, they're waiting for us."

It should have been a bright, summer day. The weather was beautiful, the birds were singing, and Luke had nearly fallen to his death.

But he hadn't.