Summary: Varian recreates the amber solution


He was going to vomit. He could feel it in the way his guts clenched together, not painful, more like a dull cold ache, pulsing and pushing against his insides. Baking cookies, sewing his doppelganger, even altering the mood potion and modifying it to a truth serum - that was one thing. This, however… His hands started to tremble, maybe they'd never truly stopped.

It's the logical conclusion. It had to be done no matter the cost, he clung to the words like a lifeline, though with each stuttering breath, his fingers slipped a little further, inch by inch, till it was almost impossible to hold on. Tears threatened to break through and for a terrifying moment, there was only the burning sensation of acid. His throat tightened as the sour taste of bile creped up into his mouth and onto his tongue. He barely managed to put the vial down and step away before he doubled over, emptying his stomach.

"Shit," angry he wiped over his lips. One last time he spat on the ground to get rid of the foul flavor, almost expecting to see blood, but nothing.

With stinging eyes, he glared at his stupid hands that just wouldn't obey. He turned around in the vague hope that reminding himself of his cause would help. The golden light reflecting from the amber could have had a soothing effect if it weren't for the face frozen in a nightmarish grimace of horror or despair or was it anguish? He couldn't tell, he'd never seen his father look like this, yet with every passing day, it got harder to imagine a different expression on him entirely. Varian didn't say anything, had long given up talking to… it. And the figure encased in stone kept quiet as well. It didn't look back, didn't move, didn't breathe - a lifeless block of flesh. Varian threw up again.

After what felt like an eternity of hacking his intestines out, worried chitters reached his ears. Here in the dark, it was a common noise. He hated it. Hated that he was the sole reason for Ruddiger's distress. The intent of his tiny companion was clear, but he couldn't leave - couldn't leave it at that. It had to be done. He did the math and the numbers forced him into a corner. It needed to react faster, he had only a short time-frame to work with. But oh god he wanted it to be over.

Once more his body refused to cooperate, however, this was not up for debate. He put his foot down and returned to the table with the yellowish glowing solution. Giving the vial an unintentional shake. He nearly jumped out of his skin the horrendous potion had the nerve to change color.

It will get better, he tried to convince himself as he added another component to the mix. Just a couple more trials and it would be finished. And while this was hell, the first time had been so much worse. Still, he was dreading what was about to come, didn't want to, didn't knew if he could. It was no use. There was no way around. He needed to be strong. He was … he couldn't... he had to! It was the only way - the right thing to do. And after all, it was just alchemy.

With weak knees, he approached one of the remaining black rocks in his laboratory, it's surface smooth as ice. The tension grew by the minute and he repressed his primal instinct to flee. His clothes stuck to his damp skin while his heart hammered so loud against his chest that he was barely able to hear his own sobs anymore. Wet lines began streaming down his cheeks. Salty drops fell from his chin. He wasn't sure if from crying or sweating in cold fear.

Varian gasped for air like a drowning man and felt himself hyperventilate as he poured the liquid over the stone. Steadily the chemical spread, swelling, and stretching like an ugly infection. This time there were no green bubbles he noticed and watched on. Varian!

Desperately the alchemist focused on counting the seconds. A crack shattered the silence and then a sickening crunch. It sounded like bones breaking, extremely loud, and terrible close.

Varian! He bit the inside of his mouth until the taste of iron mixed with the earlier bitterness, another thing to focus on. Varian!

The room started to spin. Nausea swept over him from just the intent to move and his legs trembled dangerously. Just a little more, he begged them not to give out. Varian!

As soon as the amber stilled he collapsed.

.

.

.

Varian's eyes fluttered open. And even so, they were still swollen and puffy, his face felt surprisingly dry. There were red marks on his arms from Ruddiger's panicky attempt to wake him. He frowned. How long had he been out?

Slowly he got up, ignoring the sharp pieces of glass surrounding him. 387 seconds. He swallowed, it was still too slow.

"I got this," he said to no one, his voice a tearful mess.

He took a hitching breath and steeled himself for another trial. The next time would be easier, and the time after and the time after until he couldn't feel anything but numbness woven deep into his soul.

The raccoon cooed concerned. A different kind of storm was coming and it reminded him of an age of ice and whispering snow.