Everything goes to hell on a Thursday.
Thanks to Manticore providing them with an eidetic memory Alec remembers the first moments clearly and perfectly.
It was a bright sunny day which clashes with the typical doom and gloom Seattle usually offers. Alec remembers tilting his head back and closing his eyes letting the warm rays hit his skin in a moment he doesn't get to have all too often. He hears Joshua's voice in front of him and he 'hmms' and nods in the appropriate places. They were waiting for Max, who had gotten caught up on a video call with Logan. This was a typical Thursday for the three of them, the only day of respite, since the formation of T.C. and the flag-raising, that they were able to spend time together, Just the three of them.
Big fella, medium fella, and little fella.
A slight bang and a splash of warm liquid hits Alec's face and he flinches at the unexpected sensation.
Opening his eyes, it takes him a couple of seconds to focus and when he does, he knows that every Thursday for the rest of his life this picture will be the absolute first thing that comes to his mind when he awakes in the morning.
He looks up slightly expects to be looking into Joshua's eyes, but he can't look into Joshua's eyes because one of Joshua's eyes is no longer in his head. Instead, there is a gaping hole spewing blood, skull and brain matter. Joshua starts to tip towards him, and to Alec, it almost feels like slow motion.
Alec actually doesn't remember too much after that besides catching Joshua and somehow getting him down the stairs and off of the roof they were perched on. He kind of remembers clutching the big guy (big fella) to his chest, he doesn't remember his high-pitched whine or the growls and snarling to anyone that comes remotely close to their location. He hears people telling him to calm down, to let go of Joshua, but he doesn't, fighting and biting anyone who comes near.
His instincts, the only thing that seems to come through at this moment in time, are telling him that his friend, a member of his unit, his pack is down.
Protect, protect, protect. Keeps chanting in his head and he can't make it stop.
He will be told this later because he doesn't remember (eidetic memory be damned and curses that he can remember Joshua's bloodied, gnarled face with all its details but not this), that Mole (cigar smoke, gun oil, leather, and unit, pack) is the only person who is able to touch him, able to get close enough to pry his fingers from Joshua's clothes. Another high pitch whine comes from someone that is not him (Leather, lavender, Max?) but he doesn't register it, instead clinging to Mole letting him lead him away from friend, unit, pack.
He doesn't remember the walk to his apartment (mostly carried, leather), doesn't remember opening his front door (because he didn't, gun oil) doesn't remember walking to the shower or cleaning himself (because he didn't, cigar smoke). When he comes to, he's lying on his bed by himself, with heavy eyes and a pounding headache.
He gets up and everything is automatic, he doesn't eat, doesn't drink just heads to command, because that's what he usually does on a Friday right?
Entering command, a hush falls over the room, except Max is yelling at Mole at the top of her lungs and it almost feels normal. It's not normal though. Eyes are skittering themselves all over his body and he wants to snarl but stops himself.
Max is berating Mole in the center of command, what's new, and when he comes into her view, she pushes him aside and stomps herself angrily in his direction.
He doesn't have the energy to smirk, he doesn't do anything but stare apathetically at her approach, at her tear-stained face, at her fists as it hits him in his face. She's yelling at him, hitting him and he stands and takes it. Screw up, idiot, worthless, are just some of the vile that she is spewing.
A part of him knows that Max is grieving. This is why he doesn't defend himself, doesn't stop her from hitting him with her genetically enhanced fists. He hears Mole roaring at her, telling her to stop, threatening her.
"It's your fault he's dead!" is the last thing he hears before he pushes her away roughly, catching her off guard.
"I know!" he shouts before turning around and walking back towards his apartment.
He feels sick, but he pushes that down because manticore made them perfect and he doesn't get sick.
Anger manifests in his chest instead and he welcomes the feeling. He starts to break everything in his apartment, tearing things apart with his bare hands. Roaring at the air, snarling at everything and anything. He doesn't stop until everything is destroyed but then realizes there is still one more thing he needs to break and that is himself.
Over and over again he drives his fists into walls, counters, cabinets until they are a bloodied mess and even then, he doesn't stop.
He doesn't realize that he had started a mantra of 'my fault, my fault, my fault' until someone comes in and grabs his fists. A gentle soothing low vibration of a voice is telling him that it is not his fault. That he didn't do it.
Starch, tomato, sadness is dripping off the body of the person who is holding him, and reflection of the light from the open door on the persons' glasses clues him in that this is Logan. If he had been thinking rationally, he would have been surprised. Logan hates him for taking Max away, hates him and looks down on him. This is of course because of a lie. Alec doesn't hate Logan, he thinks the guy is boring and ordinary, but he doesn't hate him. Alec does want to push him away, but he doesn't. Instead, he clings and cries and trembles listening as the older man tries to calm him down. Tries to comfort him.
Snot is clogging his nose, and it's becoming harder and harder to gulp down air, but Logan doesn't leave, and Alec doesn't let go.