Warning for self-harm in this one. I'm sorry.

Chapter 6 - Fall

Somehow, Valkyrie managed to half forget that Ravel existed, even after only a week. She supposed it made sense. He hardly left the guest room, and even when he did, he was usually skulking out of sight behind Clarity. Skulduggery was convinced he was up to something, and Valkyrie couldn't help but agree.

It was early afternoon. Valkyrie was feeding the dogs when Denny started growling at the kitchen door. She shot up to her feet to find Clarity standing there, wearing a jacket and boots.

"Hey," Valkyrie said warily, a hand on Denny's collar.

Clarity tilted their head towards her. "I'm going out to see Anton," they said. "Erskine's staying here; I got clearance for it."

Valkyrie's jaw tightened. "Right. And you want me to keep an eye on him."

"Only for an hour. Saracen should be back by then."

"Okay then. Well, don't let me keep you."

Clarity just nodded and turned to leave, but stopped when they were halfway out of the door.

"I'm sorry I called you a lapdog," they said, before walking out. Valkyrie was left staring at empty space until the front door clicked shut.

"I don't get it," Valkyrie muttered, taking a sip from her coffee. She was in her uncle's study, and her uncle's Echo was sat in his chair, watching her pensively with his fingers steepled together. He thought he looked very wise, and Valkyrie couldn't help but agree. "The other day they called me a lapdog, and they only apologise today? And it sounded like they were only doing it out of necessity."

"What did they say, exactly?" Gordon asked.

"Just 'I'm sorry I called you a lapdog.' That's it. Like they didn't even feel bad about it."

"Nah, they were being genuine. If they hadn't felt bad, they wouldn't have bothered. They're a bit like Skulduggery in that sense, only less emotionally constipated."

Valkyrie snorted into her coffee, and Gordon felt himself smiling.

"Valkyrie, sweetheart," he began, resting a hand over her knee. "Try to be patient with them. I know they're a confusing character, but it's hardly their fault. They grew up isolated and abused for the first fifteen years of their life, and after that, learned all their social skills from a bunch of war-torn sorcerers who had no time to police their behaviour for the benefit of a child who wasn't even human. The Dead Men did the best they could, but none of them had any idea what they were doing, not even Skulduggery. They've got a fierce pack mentality, and to them, you're encroaching on their family."

"The Dead Men," Valkyrie said. Gordon nodded.

"The fact that they're apologising for such a small offence as calling you a lapdog means they're making an effort to accept you. Those men are all they have; it's not as easy for them to shun one of their own for any transgressions as it would be for us."

"You're talking about Ravel."

"I am. You know, I've been talking to him recently."

Valkyrie went tense. "What?"

"Well, talking at him, really. He doesn't talk much anymore, does he?"

"No, he doesn't."

A frown settled onto Gordon's face. "There always was something off about him."

"What?"

Gordon shrugged. "He looked at me differently. It wasn't pity or anything like that, just… confused. Questioning. Like he didn't know what to make of me."

Valkyrie didn't say anything.

"There were times when he'd ask me why I never tried to take up magic. First time I told him it wasn't for me, he looked at me like I'd grown a second head." Gordon lifted his gaze to the ceiling thoughtfully. "I think I understand why now."

"You never found it weird?"

"No. He hid his true feelings very well. How else do you think he lasted so long without completely snapping?"

"He frequently murdered Warlocks," Valkyrie deadpanned.

"Ah. I suppose that had something to do with it."

Sighing, Valkyrie rolled her eyes. Her phone chose that moment to buzz, and when she turned it on, she found several texts from Saracen.

Got caught up in something. Going to be late.

Check on Erskine pls?

Sorry :|

Grumbling, Valkyrie texted a quick 'sure' and stood up.

"Something wrong?" Gordon asked.

"Saracen's going to be late coming back. He wants me to make sure Ravel hasn't tried to assassinate anyone."

"Okay. Please don't kill him."

"I'll try not to."

With that, Valkyrie left the study and went to the guest bedroom where Clarity and Ravel resided. It was… unnervingly quiet from where she stood outside the door.

Probably just sleeping, she thought. He does a lot of that these days.

But for some reason, the silence sent a cold prickling sensation along her spine. With foreboding weighing heavily on her shoulders, she opened the door and stepped in. The curtains were drawn, but the lights were off. One of the beds was unmade, but Ravel was nowhere to be seen. Valkyrie felt her gut twist, and she lost herself to a moment of panic until she saw that the bathroom door was slightly ajar, light streaming through the crack.

Somehow, that didn't make her feel any better.

"Ravel?" Valkyrie called, only to be met with an even more frigid silence. "That's not funny."

Nothing. Now thoroughly concerned, Valkyrie made her way to the bathroom door and looked in through the crack in the door. She had a view of the sink and the end of the bathtub, but still couldn't see Ravel.

"I'm not falling for it," she said loudly, stepping back from the door. No way was she letting the man jump her. "Come out right now."

A shaky, wordless breath echoed out of the door, but that was all she got.

"Ravel?" she repeated. Again, nothing. "Ravel!"

Heart heavy in her chest, she opened the door and strode in, damning the consequences.

The first thing she saw was the red dripping from Ravel's right arm. He was curled up on the floor, sleeve pulled up past his elbow and a razor held in his shaking hand. Deep red cuts ran parallel all along his arm,

Valkyrie felt sick, and weak at the knees. Without thinking, she grabbed a towel from the rack and quickly knelt down in front of him. He didn't say anything as she grabbed his bloodied arm and wrapped it up in the towel. God, he'd even sliced up his fingers.

"What the fuck?" was the first thing out of her mouth. She felt cold, like ice water had been dumped over her head. "What the fuck were you thinking?!"

He didn't say anything. Didn't even look at her.

"Keep pressure on that and get up," Valkyrie said abruptly, rising to her feet. Maybe she was being too harsh, maybe she wasn't. She was too shocked to think about it. "Come on, we've got to get this fixed."

Wordlessly, Ravel did as she asked, and allowed himself to be practically dragged out of the room.

"Going to Roarhaven!" Valkyrie shouted as she passed the study. Gordon didn't say anything. If anything, he looked slightly more translucent than usual. She marched out of the house with Ravel in tow and all but shoved him into the passenger seat of her car before getting behind the wheel. Starting the engine, she pulled out of the driveway and made her way to Roarhaven as quickly as she could. All the while, Erskine sat in numb silence, staring at his arm.

They pulled into the Sanctuary car park, and she wasted no time in pulling him all the way to the hospital and yelling for a doctor.

"The cuts are deep, but they're not life-threatening," Synecdoche explained to Valkyrie whilst Clarabelle was wrapping bandages around Ravel's arm. "I've contacted Mx Veil, and they're on their way."

Valkyrie nodded. "Right."

"You'll have to stay with him until they get here," Synecdoche said, turning away. "Try not to make him kill himself."

"Why would I-?"

Synecdoche cut her off abruptly. "He has a dangerously fragile mental state and is surrounded by people who hate him and want him dead, including you, Detective. It doesn't take a Sensitive to figure it out. Now, be civil towards him. You don't have to be his shoulder to cry on, but you do have to be his supervisor for the better half of an hour, so sit down and keep an eye on him. Make sure he doesn't mess with his bandages."

Very quickly, Valkyrie nodded and obediently walked over to where Ravel was sat on a gurney near the wall. He looked miserable, gazing at the floor with heavy-lidded eyes and running his fingers against the bandages that now covered his arm. Clarabelle was still there, chattering about Clarabelle things. Her hair was a bright lime green right now.

"Thanks, Clarabelle," Valkyrie said, sitting down on the nearest chair. "I can keep an eye on him now. You must have things to do."

"Okie dokie!" Clarabelle chirped, picking up the spare roll of bandages and standing up. The smile on her face flickered when she looked at Ravel one last time, and she gave his shoulder a gentle pat before slowly walking away with less of a bounce in her step than usual. Ravel didn't even twitch.

He and Valkyrie were left in awkward silence. There was no one else in the Infirmary besides them now, and the only sound was of Valkyrie shifting in her seat.

Eventually, she was the one to break the silence.

"Why'd you do it?" she asked incredulously, making him flinch. "What the hell was going through your head to make you do that?"

It was a while before Ravel said anything, to the point where Valkyrie was willing to give up.

"It was going too fast for me to keep up," he murmured hoarsely, his shoulders tense. "The pain... the pain slowed it down." He shuddered and choked. "I could've stopped, but I didn't."

A chilling lump settled into Valkyrie's gut, and she said nothing. They stayed like that until the sound of footsteps made them both look up to find Clarity walking in with Anton behind them. As the Cryptid approached, the stifling silence around Ravel thickened until Valkyrie was sure she could take a slice out of it with a knife. Clarity gave her a look, and she stood up and sidled away towards Anton, who was lingering in the doorway.

"What happened?" he asked.

"Ravel slashed up his own arm with a razor," Valkyrie replied numbly. "I found him in the bathroom."

"How bad was it?"

"There were a lot of cuts, but none of them will kill him."

"I see. You can go home, I can drive them both."

"Okay," Valkyrie said, slowly walking away. A last glance over her shoulder told her that Clarity had sat down next to Ravel on the bed, and the latter had shrunk in on himself. "I'll… I'll see you later, I guess."

"Mm."

Without another word, Valkyrie left. She felt numb and heavy as she drove back to Haggard, taking a wrong turn and stopping outside a house which, twenty years ago, she never thought she'd end up visiting so frequently. On weak legs, she walked down the driveway and knocked on the door. She didn't have to wait long for the door to be opened, revealing a round, soft-featured woman with bottle blonde hair and dark eyes.

"Valkyrie," Carolyn greeted, in a voice that was now her own after so long. "Is everything okay?"

"I need to talk to you and Madeline," Valkyrie said.

"I'm sorry," Erskine whispered, trembling under Clarity's gaze.

"What for?"

"I… I promised I wouldn't do it again…"

Carefully, Clarity laid a hand on Erskine's shoulder, and although the contact made him wince, he didn't protest.

"You don't need to be sorry for this," Clarity said. "You said you'd try, and you did. We both knew there was a chance you'd try to hurt yourself again."

"Then why do I feel so guilty about it, then?" Erskine demanded, looking up at Clarity with tears welling up in his eyes. "I'm supposed to be getting better, Clarity, but I'm not! I keep fucking everything up, and you say it's fine, but I don't feel fine! Why the hell am I stuck like this?! Why can't I just get over it?!"

Clarity sighed. This was not what they'd hoped for when Erskine had woken up earlier saying he felt better than usual. "I don't know," they admitted, as Erskine desperately clung onto their arm like a frightened child. "I'm not a psychiatrist. I just know that this is going to be difficult."

"I just want it all to stop," Erskine choked. "I'm sick of being a useless deadweight."

"You're not," Clarity said firmly. "I promise you, you're not."

They were interrupted by the sound of someone clearing their throat. Looking towards the source, Clarity saw that Clarabelle had reappeared, a clipboard in her hands.

"Doctor Synecdoche says that you can go now," she said, smiling weakly at them. "You've just got to sign a few papers."

"Of course," Clarity said, taking the clipboard. The room went quiet save for the scratching of a pen and Erskine's sniffling.

"You're not useless," Clarabelle said quietly, catching Erskine by surprise. "I know it feels like it, but you've just got to keep telling yourself that the nasty voices in your head are wrong." Her smile reached her eyes now, but there was still a sadness to it. "It'll probably take a long time to feel better enough to climb out of that big hole you're stuck in, but it's okay. And I know that because I'm still stuck there most of the time. But I guess I'm managing."

Erskine stared at her, dumbfounded. Tears were still trickling down his face, and his eyes were red and puffy, the pure definition of an emotional mess.

"How long..?" he asked.

"Since Doctor Kenspeckle died," Clarabelle replied. "Not a lot of people believe I'm always sad, but I managed to find a few who do. They've been a lot of help."

Erskine just nodded. Finished with the paperwork, Clarity handed it back to Clarabelle.

"Thank you," was all they said before standing up. "Ready to go?"

"Yes," Erskine said, following them over to Anton, who hadn't moved from his spot by the door. No one spoke as they all went to the man's car and drove out of the Sanctuary, back to the Manor.

Valkyrie got home after them, and not long after, Saracen and Skulduggery walked into the manor.

"What the hell happened to you?" Skulduggery spat when he noticed the fresh bandages on Erskine's arm. Valkyrie went still, Saracen bit his lip and Clarity and Anton both gave the skeleton unreadable looks.

"I-I fell," Erskine murmured, anxiously running a hand along the bandages.

"You fell?" Skulduggery repeated sceptically.

Erskine nodded. "Yes... I fell..."

I've never been through anything that I've put Erskine through. I don't know what it's like to feel so helpless that the only way out seems to be to hurt myself, and I consider myself extremely lucky for it. By writing this, I'm trying to understand how it feels for someone else, and maybe provide others with a way of understanding it too, and it's gotten to the point that I'm full-on researching depression and looking for first-hand accounts of peoples' experiences with it.

I can't do very much, I'm afraid, but if you ever want to talk about anything that's causing you trouble, then I'm always available to talk.