This chapter is for Totchii. And you read Metamorous too? You liked it?!
REALLY?! *begins to hyperventilate* Yay! I'm glad you liked it. I'm not
really a Harry fan but... Harry/Draco is usually too much fun to pass up!
Christopher is rambly and so am I. Apologies.
~~~~~~~
Chapter 5: We Are All Idiots
You ever seen pictures of the aftermath of a war? I say 'pictures' because I'm willing to bet you've never really been anywhere near a war. But maybe you have. I'm just saying, it's not something you can completely imagine. It's not clear cut and a bit detached, like something from TIME or snapshots of the mess that the atomic bomb made. The ones that are in black and white for dramatic effect, like rubble like that needs any emphasis. Because you don't just see it. You smell it, you hear it. You open your mouth, you taste the ashes on the wind. So depressing you feel like dying here with them. But that pretty much goes against the point, doesn't it?
Dead horses. Dead bodies. Dead... things. Things I can't identify. Things maybe I couldn't even identify when they were alive. Small fires here and there, from where the Athenians were lighting their arrows. Except, of course, those Athenians are now dead, and there are more important things to do than worry about a little fire.
People scurry here and there, looking for soldiers likely to survive. A couple thousand walked away. A thousand lie wounded. About half of them are going to die in the next hour. And another half by tomorrow.
I can see why April's such a bleeding heart about this. See that guy right there? His arm's pretty mangled. They'll have to amputate it. Slash it right off with an ax. If he doesn't die from the shock he probably will from the blood loss. And if he somehow manages to survive that, there's always the chance of some other disease. Over in the Old World, he might not even lose that arm.
"What happened?"
"It was supposed to be a sneak attack," Jalil said darkly. "Athena suspected there were spies, so the soldiers were geared up for a battle drill and then marched out. No information or forewarning given. She'd hoped we could at least get a head start before Ka Anor found out. And as you can see, they got past the city limits. Barely."
"So they knew? Or where they just heading for the city?" Doesn't really matter. The end result is that it was a fucking slaughter. That's basically what you're telling me.
"Don't know. Athena, Ares, and some of the other gods took what was left of Ka Anor's side prisoner. Whether they talk..." He shrugged. "Did April get to the safe spot?"
"Nico said she took off like a bat out of hell when she heard the news."
"Good."
April's safe spot... Well, after the incident where she almost 'entertained' the Aztecs, we all learned to be a bit more careful with April. A bit more aware of her status. After all, she was a woman first over here, even in the more civilized societies. The possibility of Ka Anor attacking was always on the table. And he had humans with him. Mercenaries, rebel groups. People with nothing to lose. We made her promise that if there was every any kind of battle, any skirmish at all, to take a horse and head off to a little house a few miles away. Foot of the mountains. Frankly, if the city ever really fell, it would only be a matter of time until they went there too. But a delay is better than nothing. It would give her time to prepare. Jalil stocked the house with food, water. Poison. In case they came. It might be... smarter for her to have killed herself. Death would be inevitable, at that point, and far kinder that way.
"I hate this."
Jalil turns to look at me, raises an eyebrow. "You're supposed to."
"I know. If you like this, then you're some sick, twisted fuck, right? But you know what? If it wasn't our side lying out there, I think I'd like it very, very much." If that was all Ka Anor carnage out there, I would be quite the happy little Christopher indeed.
"That's normal too." He says it all so calmly, like he knows what I'm saying and what I'm feeling before I do. Hell, maybe he does. Because that is fucking Jalil, you know? He knows everything. David's running the army, but Jalil's running everything else.
"Jalil, would you just for one fucking second pretend you're just as scared and fucked up over this as I am?" It would really help.
"What's to pretend?"
"Damn it, Jalil. Then act scared!"
"I'd really rather not chance anything," he remarks dryly, his hands tightening and untightening unconsciously.
OCD. It's gotta be a bitch. I mean... I can't pretend to understand. Can't even come close to understanding. I don't get the things and emotions that everyone else has, including me, so what the hell do I know about that? But I'm not completely stupid. I know it's why he won't let himself go. Ever. He's got this whacked up idea that if he controls everything else about himself, he'll control that too. It's stupid, and it's wrong, and the worst part is he knows it. But it's the way he's wired. And he knows that too.
That's kinda how I feel about all this. This war, this fighting. We fight and fight but in the end we might have no other satisfaction other than knowing we didn't give up. And is it enough? Hell, I don't know. I don't even know where I'm going with this. Why are we doing this? We *can* fight him. We could. We might even be able to beat him, if we had everyone working together, everything going smoothly. But we don't and it isn't. But even I'm not going to say that we can just give up. I just wonder if we'll have anything to live for. Well, maybe not us. The only thing we've really got is each other, and thank god, we're still here. But everyone else in the world? This is the time of big families. Eight, ten kids. A mother sees her husband and nine kids march off to war. How many are going return? Not all of them. She couldn't possibly hope for that. Maybe a few. But certainly not all. And her brothers? Her sister's husbands, the husbands of her daughters even? Family means a lot here. And we're killing it off.
But forget that. We won. This time, at least, we won. From the looks of things, we lost half the fucking troops, but we won. You have to cling to that. *I* have to cling to that. And next time will be different. By next time, Jalil will have better weapons designed. And more of them. Next time the tides will have turned. They have to. Because if they don't, we'll just be swept away. We can't stand much more of this. The supplies can't, our troops can't, our spirits can't. This is the point in the movie where the cavalry arrives, the guy who wasn't totally on your side before. Or some sort of miracle. But it's not that simple. You can't just write in miracles where you want them. And even in the movies, sometimes the bad guys win.
Fuck. Fuckity fuck fuck fuck. Fuck. Behold the depressed-ness of Christopher. Why do I do this to myself?
"Where's David?" Eh, I was bound to ask sooner or later. I'm proud I lasted this long.
"Talking with Corwin. Or at least he was."
"Corwin?"
"His second-in-command?"
"Right. Knew that." And I did. I'm just having a brain frazzled moment. Shut up. "I'm going home. You coming?"
"Nothing else to do."
We both take in one last look of the battlefield. The bodies, the blood, the ashes. And I wonder why they bother at all sometimes. And I can pretty honestly say that's the shittiest feeling in the world. The 'why bother'. When you really mean it, not just as a flippant remark. When you truly, honestly, one hundred percent wonder why the hell you're bothering. When you can't think of a fucking reason. We're doing this to save ourselves, to save the free Everworld. But nothing is really slowing it down. And it seems like we aren't doing anything at all. We're trying to leave this world with a bang instead of a whimper, but I have a feeling the only thing we'll be hearing is Ka Anor laughing at us.
~~~~~~~
"The battle... when was it?"
"This morning." April throws a loaf of bread at me. I catch it less easily than I'd like to admit and set it on the table. Fricken hard crust. But I'm not complaining, on the off chance April baked it instead of bought it. I don't feel like being beaten up. "Couldn't have lasted very long."
"Why didn't anyone in town know?" I spent the whole day wandering around, and I didn't hear a word.
"It wasn't an attack on the city. It was supposed to be, but our troops met with Ka Anor's on our way to attack him."
"Wrong time, wrong place kind of thing?" Or right time, wrong place... wrong time, right place... right time, right place?
"I suppose."
Great, now the woman's throwing apples at me. "Jesus, April. Hell of an arm."
"Thanks. Volunteer summer camp with the kiddies. You'd be surprised what you can learn from junior high schoolers." She then turns and throws one at Jalil, who catches it with one hand. And very easily, at that. Damn him. Mr. Perfect. But I'm not going to ask, because he'll just give me that old 'eye on the ball', except in about five hundred more words than necessary.
"Christ!"
I jump about six feet in the air when a loud clanging noise echoes through the room. I turn around to find a very sheepish looking Nico.
"Sorry. Dropped it," he says quietly, gesturing to where the top of the garbage pail lies on the floor.
"S'okay. Just make sure to put it back on. Or April will have your head." The woman is a goddess, yes, and believe me when I say DO NOT cross a goddess. Especially in her kitchen.
He nods and moves over to the oven, where April is stirring a large pot of something she plans to feed us.
"Let me help."
"No, Nico, it's all right."
April refuses to let him do much of anything. Because of the whole slave thing again. What she doesn't get is that the kid just genuinely wants to help her. He has a bit of a crush, methinks. I'll just let them duke it out. Jalil's all ready immersed in another book, completely oblivious to the world.
Sighing, I lean over and grab a slice of bread. Hmmm. Even the insides are crunchy. Still. Must taste better than it looks, right?
Whooo boy, wrong! I swallow. And swallow again. And again. Damn it, it refuses to go down! And here I thought I had mastered the gag reflex...
As inconspicuously as possible, I sneak over to the garbage, pick up the top, and spit. And then throw the rest of the slice away, all ready planning on how to get rid of the rest of the bread. I could pull a classic, I suppose. The old oh-so-sorry-my-drink-slipped. Even if she tried to make us eat it then, at least it wouldn't be so...
What the hell?
Bandages? Bloody bandages? What are they doing in the garbage? I mean, could be April (another ew), but she's usually a bit more discreet about these things...
Okay, I CAN put two and two together you know. Battle. Haven't seen David since. And Nico's looking a little guilty, now that I think about it. I can come up with four, thankyouverymuch.
"Hey Nico, can you come help me with something?"
"Of course. Christopher."
I notice the slight pause before he says my name. Still can't get over that 'master' thing, I guess. I feel sorry for the kid, you know? Another one of those things I don't think you could really imagine. Jalil says we can free him if we want (like we don't, and aren't going to), but not until he's 'of age'. I have no idea exactly when that is, but since he's twelve, I'm willing to bet it will be a few years at least.
I walk out into the hallway, making sure to shut the doorway as I do.
"Spill it."
Nico raises an eyebrow. "Excuse me?"
Ah. Slang. So confusing to the younger generation. "Talk, kiddo."
"I don't understand - "
"David, Nico. Tell me about David." He's looking guiltier and guiltier with every passing second. He knows.
"He... he did want me to tell you he didn't want to be disturbed."
"Nico."
"Yes, Christopher?"
"What's going on with David?"
He avoids my gaze. "As I said, he doesn't want to be disturbed. He is tired."
"Mhmmm. Okay, that I might believe. What was with those blood soaked rags you threw away?"
"Master David was covered in blood from the battle."
"His own blood?" Stubborn.
"Others."
"Then why was it fresh?" Battle was this morning. It's after sunset.
Nico opens his mouth, shuts it, and then sighs. "He didn't want anyone to know."
"To know...?"
"That he was hurt."
Christ, pulling teeth! I'm ready to slap the kid upside the head. But no. I can only do that with my own brother. "Nico, I don't care what David told you to say or not say. Tell me the truth. Now."
"I..."
"You won't get in trouble. Just tell me."
"He... he was stabbed. Stabbed in the stomach."
Deep breathes. Deep breathes because I am going to go kill him for being such an asshole. David, not Nico. Nico's just doing what David told him to do. David is being fucking retarded. "Is it bad?
"Bad enough," he continues meekly.
Okay. Okay. That's probably bad. Hell, that's probably really bad.
"Go get Jalil. Tell him to come to David's room. Now."
~~~~~~~
David's lying face up on the bed, shirt off. And whoa, that would normally be something I would take advantage of, but normally David's ribcage isn't swathed in bandages. And I get the feeling he's not turning and tossing around because of a dream.
"Chris? What are you -?" Jalil stops halfway through the door. "Shit."
"Yeah. Shit."
~~~~~~~
"He must have had one of the healers stitch him up..."
"They did a good job."
"Is he unconscious?"
I reach down the shakily place a hand on the gash on David's stomach. It's held together with about twenty stitches. Not like thread either. Wiry stuff. Eh, either way it looks nasty. And he hasn't woken up yet, so -
"It feels hot," I say weakly.
"It's infected."
"What can we do?" April asks quietly. She shoos Nico out the door. "Should we send for a doctor?"
"They don't know jack shit." Not here, anyway. Whoever sewed him up had the right idea, but everyone in the medical profession in Everworld is still in that leeches and 'cleansing the bad spirits' stage.
"Christopher's right. They can't help us." Jalil starts to wrap David back up. "Send Nico to the market for laudanum as soon as it opens tomorrow. New bandages too."
"He could probably get some now. Grease the right palms with a little gold, they'll open their shops..."
"Do it now then," he continues ruthlessly. April nods and heads back out of David's room.
"Is it bad?"
"Could be worse. Didn't hit any organs."
"How can you tell?"
"He'd be dead by now."
Note to self: Don't ask questions if you aren't going to like the answers.
"What should we do?" Not like I can run down to the pharmacy and pick up some antibiotics...
"Clean the wound every two hours. Gently. Any more than that and we'd hurt more than help him." Jalil moves briskly from one end of the bed to the other, placing the back of his hand on David's forehead. "He has a fever..."
"I'll get some water and a cloth," April volunteers. I jump, not even having noticed she came back into the room, but Jalil nods and she walks quickly back out. I guess Nico is all ready in his way.
There's that whole 'feeling completely useless' thing again.
"Anything I can do?"
Jalil turns around, some pithy remark all ready on his lips, but he refrains from saying it. Probably because I look so damn pitiful. I mean, I can't see myself, but if I look half as pitiful as I feel... lemme tell you, it's *damn* pitiful.
"If you just stay here," he says quietly. "He won't know it, not consciously, but it may still help."
"All right."
~~~~~~~
I didn't leave that room for three days. Three days of a high fever. Three days of David franticly tossing and turning. Three days of changing bandages and wetting clothes to place on his forehead and praying to whatever fucking god holds his fate in their hands. And it took me every minute of those three days to realize that maybe it wouldn't make a difference anyway.
"He's going to die," I say quietly, far more calm than I really feel.
Jalil is silent for a very long time.
"Isn't he?"
"Yeah," he whispers back hoarsely. "He might. The fever... it's probably caused brain damage. Been going on too long. So even if the wound does heal, even if the infection doesn't spread..."
Jalil is about this far from breaking down. This far. Jalil. Jalil, man. That's when you know things are bad. I'm surprised I haven't cracked yet. Maybe because I have very studiously avoided thinking about it. Thinking about anything. David doesn't die. He doesn't. David does not equal dead. It doesn't... it doesn't make sense.
"Anything we can do?"
"April wants to go down to the Temple later," he says shortly. "Make an offering. I don't see what it will help."
"What could it hurt Jalil?" It's not like were praying to someone that's not there, because they do exist. The problem's in whether they listen. "What kind of gods do we ask for help?" There has to be someone, right? These people made gods and goddess for the freaking sun and moon and death and prophecy and everything in between. There has to be one that can help us.
"Little late for the war gods."
"Can we ask the god of death to... not kill him, or something?"
"They don't do that. Goes against pretty much everything they stand for. Besides. From what I remember the gods of death and the underworlds tend to be not so nice."
Hel. Point taken.
"Jalil... something..."
He backs up towards the doorway. "I'll see. I don't know everything Chris. I wish to gods I did. But I don't." As the door creaks closed I think he might have whispered 'I'm sorry'. But maybe that was just me.
I don't want him to die. In fact, I'd go so far as to say I'd do anything so he wouldn't die. But what choice do I have? What choice does anyone have, when it comes down to it? I can't help him. I don't know anyone who can. The only thing I can do is what I always do when it comes to David. Pray for a miracle.
Right now, I wish I didn't love him. I never really wished that before, but now I do. Because if he dies... I won't be able to take it. I am a damn *fragile* person, all right? I can't have someone else I love just leave. I can't pretend that things will be all right without him. I don't want him to die!
And at the same time, I don't want him to live like this. Because it's possible, it's entirely possible for him to slip into some sort of coma and never wake up. And I'll sit in here, day after day, only leaving when April manages to drag me out. I'll watch the wound on his stomach heal, but he still won't be all right. I'll sit here all the fucking time, hoping that he'll wake up. But maybe he won't. And maybe after awhile, after April and Jalil and everyone else has given up... maybe I'll give up on hoping too. Maybe I won't care any more. Maybe I'll leave him to this room, and move on to someone else. You know, I say that, but... I don't see it happening. I see everyone else moving up and out of here, away from this house and this phase of our lives, but I don't. I won't. It's a pretty tragic fucking story. But we do pretty well with angst.
A lot of things are maybes. But I know one thing. If he would just open his fucking eyes, look at me, and *live*, I would be the happiest man alive.
~~~~~~
"Asclepius."
"What?"
"Asclepius," Jalil says again. "Greco-Roman god of healing."
... did I hear that?
"You serious?"
"Dead serious. Better yet, alive serious."
"Getting your ass down to the temple right now serious?"
"That too." With an uncharacteristically wide grin Jalil slips back out the door.
Life's looking up, baby. That miracle? I think we just found it.
~~~~~~~
"April actually sacrificed a goat?"
"Mhmm."
"Wow." I turn to look at her. That's... big. Hmm. She does look a little green around the gills. "You okay?"
"I'll be fine." She smiles weakly. "I just hope David is."
Yeah. "So how exactly do we know if Asclepius answered our prayer?"
"We don't," Jalil says sourly. "If David heals, our prayer is answered. If he dies, well, obviously he didn't."
"That's cheap. If he lives Asclepius gets the credit. But if he... doesn't live, then we just didn't pray hard enough or make the right sacrifice?"
"Pretty much."
That's not depressing at all. "Romans are fiends."
~~~~~~
Not the best place to cut off, but there was no end in sight, honestly! The next chapter should be that last, unless my muses demand an epilogue or something, damn them.
Jalil: That was me being heroic?
Rae: Shush. We aren't going there now.
David: You aren't really going to let me die, are you?
Christopher: *begins to sniffle* You wouldn't do that to me and my wittle ittle Davey, would you?
David: ......
Rae: Um. Right.
~
Yes, yes. I am insane. Seifer/Zell slash is rotting my brain. Ooh! And it rhymed!
Eh. Excuse the not-so-goodness. My chem teacher is out on med leave for the rest of the year, and the substitute we have for the next two months isn't exactly the most... shall we say, pleasant? Hopefully next chapter my good humor will be restored and Christopher will make sense and there will be much fluffiness! Or at least not an overwhelming sense of doom...
Christopher is rambly and so am I. Apologies.
~~~~~~~
Chapter 5: We Are All Idiots
You ever seen pictures of the aftermath of a war? I say 'pictures' because I'm willing to bet you've never really been anywhere near a war. But maybe you have. I'm just saying, it's not something you can completely imagine. It's not clear cut and a bit detached, like something from TIME or snapshots of the mess that the atomic bomb made. The ones that are in black and white for dramatic effect, like rubble like that needs any emphasis. Because you don't just see it. You smell it, you hear it. You open your mouth, you taste the ashes on the wind. So depressing you feel like dying here with them. But that pretty much goes against the point, doesn't it?
Dead horses. Dead bodies. Dead... things. Things I can't identify. Things maybe I couldn't even identify when they were alive. Small fires here and there, from where the Athenians were lighting their arrows. Except, of course, those Athenians are now dead, and there are more important things to do than worry about a little fire.
People scurry here and there, looking for soldiers likely to survive. A couple thousand walked away. A thousand lie wounded. About half of them are going to die in the next hour. And another half by tomorrow.
I can see why April's such a bleeding heart about this. See that guy right there? His arm's pretty mangled. They'll have to amputate it. Slash it right off with an ax. If he doesn't die from the shock he probably will from the blood loss. And if he somehow manages to survive that, there's always the chance of some other disease. Over in the Old World, he might not even lose that arm.
"What happened?"
"It was supposed to be a sneak attack," Jalil said darkly. "Athena suspected there were spies, so the soldiers were geared up for a battle drill and then marched out. No information or forewarning given. She'd hoped we could at least get a head start before Ka Anor found out. And as you can see, they got past the city limits. Barely."
"So they knew? Or where they just heading for the city?" Doesn't really matter. The end result is that it was a fucking slaughter. That's basically what you're telling me.
"Don't know. Athena, Ares, and some of the other gods took what was left of Ka Anor's side prisoner. Whether they talk..." He shrugged. "Did April get to the safe spot?"
"Nico said she took off like a bat out of hell when she heard the news."
"Good."
April's safe spot... Well, after the incident where she almost 'entertained' the Aztecs, we all learned to be a bit more careful with April. A bit more aware of her status. After all, she was a woman first over here, even in the more civilized societies. The possibility of Ka Anor attacking was always on the table. And he had humans with him. Mercenaries, rebel groups. People with nothing to lose. We made her promise that if there was every any kind of battle, any skirmish at all, to take a horse and head off to a little house a few miles away. Foot of the mountains. Frankly, if the city ever really fell, it would only be a matter of time until they went there too. But a delay is better than nothing. It would give her time to prepare. Jalil stocked the house with food, water. Poison. In case they came. It might be... smarter for her to have killed herself. Death would be inevitable, at that point, and far kinder that way.
"I hate this."
Jalil turns to look at me, raises an eyebrow. "You're supposed to."
"I know. If you like this, then you're some sick, twisted fuck, right? But you know what? If it wasn't our side lying out there, I think I'd like it very, very much." If that was all Ka Anor carnage out there, I would be quite the happy little Christopher indeed.
"That's normal too." He says it all so calmly, like he knows what I'm saying and what I'm feeling before I do. Hell, maybe he does. Because that is fucking Jalil, you know? He knows everything. David's running the army, but Jalil's running everything else.
"Jalil, would you just for one fucking second pretend you're just as scared and fucked up over this as I am?" It would really help.
"What's to pretend?"
"Damn it, Jalil. Then act scared!"
"I'd really rather not chance anything," he remarks dryly, his hands tightening and untightening unconsciously.
OCD. It's gotta be a bitch. I mean... I can't pretend to understand. Can't even come close to understanding. I don't get the things and emotions that everyone else has, including me, so what the hell do I know about that? But I'm not completely stupid. I know it's why he won't let himself go. Ever. He's got this whacked up idea that if he controls everything else about himself, he'll control that too. It's stupid, and it's wrong, and the worst part is he knows it. But it's the way he's wired. And he knows that too.
That's kinda how I feel about all this. This war, this fighting. We fight and fight but in the end we might have no other satisfaction other than knowing we didn't give up. And is it enough? Hell, I don't know. I don't even know where I'm going with this. Why are we doing this? We *can* fight him. We could. We might even be able to beat him, if we had everyone working together, everything going smoothly. But we don't and it isn't. But even I'm not going to say that we can just give up. I just wonder if we'll have anything to live for. Well, maybe not us. The only thing we've really got is each other, and thank god, we're still here. But everyone else in the world? This is the time of big families. Eight, ten kids. A mother sees her husband and nine kids march off to war. How many are going return? Not all of them. She couldn't possibly hope for that. Maybe a few. But certainly not all. And her brothers? Her sister's husbands, the husbands of her daughters even? Family means a lot here. And we're killing it off.
But forget that. We won. This time, at least, we won. From the looks of things, we lost half the fucking troops, but we won. You have to cling to that. *I* have to cling to that. And next time will be different. By next time, Jalil will have better weapons designed. And more of them. Next time the tides will have turned. They have to. Because if they don't, we'll just be swept away. We can't stand much more of this. The supplies can't, our troops can't, our spirits can't. This is the point in the movie where the cavalry arrives, the guy who wasn't totally on your side before. Or some sort of miracle. But it's not that simple. You can't just write in miracles where you want them. And even in the movies, sometimes the bad guys win.
Fuck. Fuckity fuck fuck fuck. Fuck. Behold the depressed-ness of Christopher. Why do I do this to myself?
"Where's David?" Eh, I was bound to ask sooner or later. I'm proud I lasted this long.
"Talking with Corwin. Or at least he was."
"Corwin?"
"His second-in-command?"
"Right. Knew that." And I did. I'm just having a brain frazzled moment. Shut up. "I'm going home. You coming?"
"Nothing else to do."
We both take in one last look of the battlefield. The bodies, the blood, the ashes. And I wonder why they bother at all sometimes. And I can pretty honestly say that's the shittiest feeling in the world. The 'why bother'. When you really mean it, not just as a flippant remark. When you truly, honestly, one hundred percent wonder why the hell you're bothering. When you can't think of a fucking reason. We're doing this to save ourselves, to save the free Everworld. But nothing is really slowing it down. And it seems like we aren't doing anything at all. We're trying to leave this world with a bang instead of a whimper, but I have a feeling the only thing we'll be hearing is Ka Anor laughing at us.
~~~~~~~
"The battle... when was it?"
"This morning." April throws a loaf of bread at me. I catch it less easily than I'd like to admit and set it on the table. Fricken hard crust. But I'm not complaining, on the off chance April baked it instead of bought it. I don't feel like being beaten up. "Couldn't have lasted very long."
"Why didn't anyone in town know?" I spent the whole day wandering around, and I didn't hear a word.
"It wasn't an attack on the city. It was supposed to be, but our troops met with Ka Anor's on our way to attack him."
"Wrong time, wrong place kind of thing?" Or right time, wrong place... wrong time, right place... right time, right place?
"I suppose."
Great, now the woman's throwing apples at me. "Jesus, April. Hell of an arm."
"Thanks. Volunteer summer camp with the kiddies. You'd be surprised what you can learn from junior high schoolers." She then turns and throws one at Jalil, who catches it with one hand. And very easily, at that. Damn him. Mr. Perfect. But I'm not going to ask, because he'll just give me that old 'eye on the ball', except in about five hundred more words than necessary.
"Christ!"
I jump about six feet in the air when a loud clanging noise echoes through the room. I turn around to find a very sheepish looking Nico.
"Sorry. Dropped it," he says quietly, gesturing to where the top of the garbage pail lies on the floor.
"S'okay. Just make sure to put it back on. Or April will have your head." The woman is a goddess, yes, and believe me when I say DO NOT cross a goddess. Especially in her kitchen.
He nods and moves over to the oven, where April is stirring a large pot of something she plans to feed us.
"Let me help."
"No, Nico, it's all right."
April refuses to let him do much of anything. Because of the whole slave thing again. What she doesn't get is that the kid just genuinely wants to help her. He has a bit of a crush, methinks. I'll just let them duke it out. Jalil's all ready immersed in another book, completely oblivious to the world.
Sighing, I lean over and grab a slice of bread. Hmmm. Even the insides are crunchy. Still. Must taste better than it looks, right?
Whooo boy, wrong! I swallow. And swallow again. And again. Damn it, it refuses to go down! And here I thought I had mastered the gag reflex...
As inconspicuously as possible, I sneak over to the garbage, pick up the top, and spit. And then throw the rest of the slice away, all ready planning on how to get rid of the rest of the bread. I could pull a classic, I suppose. The old oh-so-sorry-my-drink-slipped. Even if she tried to make us eat it then, at least it wouldn't be so...
What the hell?
Bandages? Bloody bandages? What are they doing in the garbage? I mean, could be April (another ew), but she's usually a bit more discreet about these things...
Okay, I CAN put two and two together you know. Battle. Haven't seen David since. And Nico's looking a little guilty, now that I think about it. I can come up with four, thankyouverymuch.
"Hey Nico, can you come help me with something?"
"Of course. Christopher."
I notice the slight pause before he says my name. Still can't get over that 'master' thing, I guess. I feel sorry for the kid, you know? Another one of those things I don't think you could really imagine. Jalil says we can free him if we want (like we don't, and aren't going to), but not until he's 'of age'. I have no idea exactly when that is, but since he's twelve, I'm willing to bet it will be a few years at least.
I walk out into the hallway, making sure to shut the doorway as I do.
"Spill it."
Nico raises an eyebrow. "Excuse me?"
Ah. Slang. So confusing to the younger generation. "Talk, kiddo."
"I don't understand - "
"David, Nico. Tell me about David." He's looking guiltier and guiltier with every passing second. He knows.
"He... he did want me to tell you he didn't want to be disturbed."
"Nico."
"Yes, Christopher?"
"What's going on with David?"
He avoids my gaze. "As I said, he doesn't want to be disturbed. He is tired."
"Mhmmm. Okay, that I might believe. What was with those blood soaked rags you threw away?"
"Master David was covered in blood from the battle."
"His own blood?" Stubborn.
"Others."
"Then why was it fresh?" Battle was this morning. It's after sunset.
Nico opens his mouth, shuts it, and then sighs. "He didn't want anyone to know."
"To know...?"
"That he was hurt."
Christ, pulling teeth! I'm ready to slap the kid upside the head. But no. I can only do that with my own brother. "Nico, I don't care what David told you to say or not say. Tell me the truth. Now."
"I..."
"You won't get in trouble. Just tell me."
"He... he was stabbed. Stabbed in the stomach."
Deep breathes. Deep breathes because I am going to go kill him for being such an asshole. David, not Nico. Nico's just doing what David told him to do. David is being fucking retarded. "Is it bad?
"Bad enough," he continues meekly.
Okay. Okay. That's probably bad. Hell, that's probably really bad.
"Go get Jalil. Tell him to come to David's room. Now."
~~~~~~~
David's lying face up on the bed, shirt off. And whoa, that would normally be something I would take advantage of, but normally David's ribcage isn't swathed in bandages. And I get the feeling he's not turning and tossing around because of a dream.
"Chris? What are you -?" Jalil stops halfway through the door. "Shit."
"Yeah. Shit."
~~~~~~~
"He must have had one of the healers stitch him up..."
"They did a good job."
"Is he unconscious?"
I reach down the shakily place a hand on the gash on David's stomach. It's held together with about twenty stitches. Not like thread either. Wiry stuff. Eh, either way it looks nasty. And he hasn't woken up yet, so -
"It feels hot," I say weakly.
"It's infected."
"What can we do?" April asks quietly. She shoos Nico out the door. "Should we send for a doctor?"
"They don't know jack shit." Not here, anyway. Whoever sewed him up had the right idea, but everyone in the medical profession in Everworld is still in that leeches and 'cleansing the bad spirits' stage.
"Christopher's right. They can't help us." Jalil starts to wrap David back up. "Send Nico to the market for laudanum as soon as it opens tomorrow. New bandages too."
"He could probably get some now. Grease the right palms with a little gold, they'll open their shops..."
"Do it now then," he continues ruthlessly. April nods and heads back out of David's room.
"Is it bad?"
"Could be worse. Didn't hit any organs."
"How can you tell?"
"He'd be dead by now."
Note to self: Don't ask questions if you aren't going to like the answers.
"What should we do?" Not like I can run down to the pharmacy and pick up some antibiotics...
"Clean the wound every two hours. Gently. Any more than that and we'd hurt more than help him." Jalil moves briskly from one end of the bed to the other, placing the back of his hand on David's forehead. "He has a fever..."
"I'll get some water and a cloth," April volunteers. I jump, not even having noticed she came back into the room, but Jalil nods and she walks quickly back out. I guess Nico is all ready in his way.
There's that whole 'feeling completely useless' thing again.
"Anything I can do?"
Jalil turns around, some pithy remark all ready on his lips, but he refrains from saying it. Probably because I look so damn pitiful. I mean, I can't see myself, but if I look half as pitiful as I feel... lemme tell you, it's *damn* pitiful.
"If you just stay here," he says quietly. "He won't know it, not consciously, but it may still help."
"All right."
~~~~~~~
I didn't leave that room for three days. Three days of a high fever. Three days of David franticly tossing and turning. Three days of changing bandages and wetting clothes to place on his forehead and praying to whatever fucking god holds his fate in their hands. And it took me every minute of those three days to realize that maybe it wouldn't make a difference anyway.
"He's going to die," I say quietly, far more calm than I really feel.
Jalil is silent for a very long time.
"Isn't he?"
"Yeah," he whispers back hoarsely. "He might. The fever... it's probably caused brain damage. Been going on too long. So even if the wound does heal, even if the infection doesn't spread..."
Jalil is about this far from breaking down. This far. Jalil. Jalil, man. That's when you know things are bad. I'm surprised I haven't cracked yet. Maybe because I have very studiously avoided thinking about it. Thinking about anything. David doesn't die. He doesn't. David does not equal dead. It doesn't... it doesn't make sense.
"Anything we can do?"
"April wants to go down to the Temple later," he says shortly. "Make an offering. I don't see what it will help."
"What could it hurt Jalil?" It's not like were praying to someone that's not there, because they do exist. The problem's in whether they listen. "What kind of gods do we ask for help?" There has to be someone, right? These people made gods and goddess for the freaking sun and moon and death and prophecy and everything in between. There has to be one that can help us.
"Little late for the war gods."
"Can we ask the god of death to... not kill him, or something?"
"They don't do that. Goes against pretty much everything they stand for. Besides. From what I remember the gods of death and the underworlds tend to be not so nice."
Hel. Point taken.
"Jalil... something..."
He backs up towards the doorway. "I'll see. I don't know everything Chris. I wish to gods I did. But I don't." As the door creaks closed I think he might have whispered 'I'm sorry'. But maybe that was just me.
I don't want him to die. In fact, I'd go so far as to say I'd do anything so he wouldn't die. But what choice do I have? What choice does anyone have, when it comes down to it? I can't help him. I don't know anyone who can. The only thing I can do is what I always do when it comes to David. Pray for a miracle.
Right now, I wish I didn't love him. I never really wished that before, but now I do. Because if he dies... I won't be able to take it. I am a damn *fragile* person, all right? I can't have someone else I love just leave. I can't pretend that things will be all right without him. I don't want him to die!
And at the same time, I don't want him to live like this. Because it's possible, it's entirely possible for him to slip into some sort of coma and never wake up. And I'll sit in here, day after day, only leaving when April manages to drag me out. I'll watch the wound on his stomach heal, but he still won't be all right. I'll sit here all the fucking time, hoping that he'll wake up. But maybe he won't. And maybe after awhile, after April and Jalil and everyone else has given up... maybe I'll give up on hoping too. Maybe I won't care any more. Maybe I'll leave him to this room, and move on to someone else. You know, I say that, but... I don't see it happening. I see everyone else moving up and out of here, away from this house and this phase of our lives, but I don't. I won't. It's a pretty tragic fucking story. But we do pretty well with angst.
A lot of things are maybes. But I know one thing. If he would just open his fucking eyes, look at me, and *live*, I would be the happiest man alive.
~~~~~~
"Asclepius."
"What?"
"Asclepius," Jalil says again. "Greco-Roman god of healing."
... did I hear that?
"You serious?"
"Dead serious. Better yet, alive serious."
"Getting your ass down to the temple right now serious?"
"That too." With an uncharacteristically wide grin Jalil slips back out the door.
Life's looking up, baby. That miracle? I think we just found it.
~~~~~~~
"April actually sacrificed a goat?"
"Mhmm."
"Wow." I turn to look at her. That's... big. Hmm. She does look a little green around the gills. "You okay?"
"I'll be fine." She smiles weakly. "I just hope David is."
Yeah. "So how exactly do we know if Asclepius answered our prayer?"
"We don't," Jalil says sourly. "If David heals, our prayer is answered. If he dies, well, obviously he didn't."
"That's cheap. If he lives Asclepius gets the credit. But if he... doesn't live, then we just didn't pray hard enough or make the right sacrifice?"
"Pretty much."
That's not depressing at all. "Romans are fiends."
~~~~~~
Not the best place to cut off, but there was no end in sight, honestly! The next chapter should be that last, unless my muses demand an epilogue or something, damn them.
Jalil: That was me being heroic?
Rae: Shush. We aren't going there now.
David: You aren't really going to let me die, are you?
Christopher: *begins to sniffle* You wouldn't do that to me and my wittle ittle Davey, would you?
David: ......
Rae: Um. Right.
~
Yes, yes. I am insane. Seifer/Zell slash is rotting my brain. Ooh! And it rhymed!
Eh. Excuse the not-so-goodness. My chem teacher is out on med leave for the rest of the year, and the substitute we have for the next two months isn't exactly the most... shall we say, pleasant? Hopefully next chapter my good humor will be restored and Christopher will make sense and there will be much fluffiness! Or at least not an overwhelming sense of doom...