-Hold My Hand
Eyelids twitched, unwilling to open. They felt sealed shut. Hanna didn't care. He didn't want to open them. He wanted to go back to sleep. He was so warm.
There was a weight on his hand. Curled around his hand. It changed his mind about sleep. Curious, he cracked open his eyes, slowly, so much effort for so simple a thing. He turned them down, to his hand, and saw green and stitches. His partner was there, sitting cross-legged next to the mattress, chin to his chest, hands curled tightly around his pink fingers.
"Ballast…?" His voice creaked, low and hoarse.
The zombie's head shot up, and Hanna was shocked by the sheer force of emotion in those headlight eyes. They were wild with worry and fear and so many things Hanna couldn't understand. There were even creases in his brow, around his eyes. Hanna had never seen so much in his face before.
"Hanna…my god, Hanna, are you all right? You…you scared me to death…" He got to his knees and took Hanna's face in his hands, searching for something. His brows knitted and he bit his lip, thumbs running over pale cheeks. "Hanna…"
"What…what happened? What's wrong?" Hanna whispered, still mesmerized by his partner's new and numerous expressions. Mesmerized, but distressed. All his emotions seemed profoundly negative, and somehow, it was his fault.
His fault.
"Oh shit…"
"A dream, Hanna. I think it was a dream. It was never that bad before. You looked like you were dying. I didn't know what to do, you just kept screaming and then you…"
He trailed off, looking unsure. He pulled away, hiding one of his arms behind him.
"I what?"
"You…it doesn't matter. You didn't mean to. It's all right now."
"What did I do?"
Ballast sighed and hesitated, but brought his hidden arm up to look at it. The flesh was mangled and torn, some of it looking like it wanted to just fall right off. "You bit me."
Hanna stared, horrified. "Bit you…? I bit you? Holy shit, that's not a bite, that's a fucking shredding!" He struggled to sit up, ignoring Ballast's attempts to keep him lying down. "I…what the hell? Why didn't you stop me? Look at that, doesn't it hurt?"
Ballast shook his head. "I couldn't feel it much when you did it. I was more worried about you. I can't feel it at all, now. It's not important."
"Yes it is…" the small man murmured. "It is important. My god, I'm so sorry. I didn't realize…I mean, I didn't think it would turn out this way. Shit, I just wanted…but it went totally wrong. I'm sorry. Fuck, I'm so sorry."
He hid his face in his hands, guilt and exhaustion crashing over him like a condemned building. It was that rune, he should have known better than to use it. He overestimated himself, and look where that left him. Biting the flesh off the arm of the man he'd just wanted to hold him. That kind of failure stung more than anything because it hurt someone else more than it hurt Hanna.
There was movement beside him, and before he knew it, Ballast was wrapping himself around Hanna, rigid, hollow chest pressed to his back and arms holding him there almost too tight. A white tuft of hair brushed his cheek as Ballast buried his face in the crook of Hanna's neck.
"I don't know what you're talking about, but you have nothing to be sorry for. Nothing at all. I'm just glad you're all right."
Hanna whimpered, wanting to pull away because he didn't deserve it, wanting to stay forever because it was the most amazing feeling. His throat burned to tell the truth, but his heart couldn't bear it. And it may have been just the rune, but he knew that nightmare. He'd had it before, ages ago, in a room with grey walls and plastic sheets. It was the rune that brought it out now, but it had still been there all along, hiding under his skin, tainting everything he said or did or experienced…maybe he deserved to be held for that. Maybe his partner was right. Maybe he really didn't have anything to be sorry for. At least not tonight.
"I'll sew your arm up," he offered, voice still soft and hoarse.
"Tomorrow," Ballast replied, and held him tighter.
Hanna trembled and asked, "Stay with me?"
"You'd have to bite my arms all the way off to get away."
A choked laugh later, Hanna found himself eased down onto his pillow, blankets pulled to his chin, and an unfamiliar, wonderful pressure moulded to his back, clamped to him by unyielding arms. One of the zombie's hands tangled in his, reassuring and seeking reassurance all at once.
It wasn't the way he'd planned it, but all things considered, his experiment was a success.
