AN: Again, I want to thank Elillierose for beta reading and fixing my mistakes and the oddities I had. ^^ And I want to thank you all for the love you've shown for 'Collision' so far! It's boggled my mind, to be honest. I'm so happy you're liking it. Lol, until this chapter probably.
I gotta give you a fair warning, in this chapter I'm making Ignis scream. A lot. Ignis's gonna be hurting a lot.
The skin around the milky-white and wet wound was angry red, as if Ignis had scratched it. The barely closed avulsion oozed clear, yellowish pus that glimmered ominously on the scarring tissue. It was disgusting! But the worst part of it was the smell. From a foot afar they could feel the odor. The repulsive, sickly stench of festering hovering around the man like a macabre veil.
The adviser was pale; his upper body spasmed a little. Prompto couldn't get his eyes off him. Hating what he saw, fighting the rising disgust in himself, he watched in morbid fascination how the man trembled, feeling lesser with every twitch. He felt himself so useless. Ignis was suffering, and all he could do was watch. He glanced at the others and read the same cluelessness on their faces. It was a cold shower: no one had an idea what to do.
"Now what?" Prompto's voice was a near-whimper. He couldn't help it; he was scared. Scared of hearing that it was too late, that there was nothing they could do.
Gladiolus had his eyes closed as he pulled a hand through his mane, his face serious. "He needs medical attention." After a small pause, he added, more to himself but it was spoken out loud nonetheless, "We should've never come here."
"Well, we're here, so we can drop the 'should haves'," Noctis noted, his eyes never leaving Ignis and tone unusually guarded. "Is there anything we can do?" The shield shook his head in silence, his appearance slumped. Prompto recognized that gesture. It was a gesture he had seen on himself far too often, long ago, when he was younger. But seeing it in Gladio made his heart skip a beat. It was inadequacy.
The large man breathed a sigh. "You're not gonna like this." The others' eyes narrowed in anticipation. "We could try to use the Antidote and more potions on him. It's not gonna be the same as actual medicine, but no hurt in trying. But in any case, we need to drain the wound."
"I thought the Antidote only works on poisoning," Prompto mused out loud, desperation audible in his voice.
"It does. But it's the best we've got. He needs antibiotics." The dark man didn't look at him, he spoke to the sickly form lying in front of them.
Noctis raised his head, his attention on something Gladio had said. "What do you mean 'drain the wound'?"
"That's the thing you're not gonna like. We need to open it, wash out the pus before it gets worse. In the best case, it's gonna be painful." Then he added, "Iggy's wound's pretty bad. If it's not done, we might be facing maggots or even gangrene."
"Gangrene?!" The others looked shocked.
"Yeah, in the long run. That's if things go pear-shaped. This is the nature talking. The sooner we'll get out of here, the better chance he has."
"And this isn't pear-shaped?!" Prompto exclaimed, shocked with the news. The others seemed surprised at that. "You saying this is the good news?!"
Gladiolus looked at him, his expression betraying nothing, but Prompto noted how his eyes seemed to study him, as if he was looking for something he didn't believe he would find. "That animal could've had any number of crud in its teeth. It bit him deep, this was bound to happen. At this stage, it's still manageable. So yeah, this is the good news."
The atmosphere was pressing. No one liked the brutal honesty of the survivalist's words, but couldn't argue with the reality. Their eyes were glued onto the strategist, who visibly shook as fever spasms ravaged him. It was almost unbearable to watch, and yet Noctis didn't even blink. This was his sin. Bearing witness to it was his punishment.
"Let's do it." Noctis' voice was small. Gladio nodded in silence, not looking at him as he went to gather the man into his arms. Without a word, looking like he was going to throw up, Noctis summoned a dagger. The putrid smell seemed to wrap around them, burning their noses and throats.
"Prompto." The blond jolted out of stupor at the call of his name. "Maybe get us those vials, please?" The gunslinger blinked at the tone. It had been borderline nerve-wrecking. So thick with worry and anticipation it almost didn't sound like Noct anymore. It made him all the more anxious.
"Uh, sure." His legs like noodles, Prompto dragged himself to go through their scarce equipment until he found what he was looking for. He grabbed three containers and wobbled back to find Gladio on his knees in the ground, Ignis' head on his thigh and the injured shoulder resting on a black jacket. Next to them sat Noctis, clenching the fabric of his pants so hard his knuckles were white. On his lap laid the dagger.
"You sure you're up to this, Noct?" Prompto asked, his voice quaking.
"Not in a million years," he chuckled humorlessly. The young man looked pale and his hands shook a little. He was terrified of what he was about to do.
"Better get it done before he wakes up," urged Gladio but it was supportive rather than demanding. Nodding quietly, the young man gripped the hilt.
The bulky guy popped open an Antidote, basted the already raw skin with it. He nodded to Noctis, a determined frown creasing his features. The prince let out a deep breath, summoning the courage to go through with this, and brought the tip against the marred skin.
With a final glance at Ignis' face, Noctis cut deep into the flesh.
The filth spurted out with force, some speckling his hand and face. It was blood mixed with goo, clots and grime. In the midst of it, Ignis let out a confused, unintelligent whimper.
"Shit!" Noct snorted with spite as the body beneath him awoke into a haze of anguish.
Ignis' moans became panicked as the pain registered. The unexplainable, foreign pain.
Seeing the young one freezing, a still hand clasped around the blade, Gladiolus quickly took over. "Noct, press the wound at the edges. Try to squeeze it out. Prompto, hold his legs!" he spelled his orders as Ignis started struggling. A bundle of blind instincts, fear overriding the brain with the urge to save himself from this unknown enemy.
"Gotcha!" Prompto jolted into action, throwing his light weight over Ignis' shins to steady him. Even when severely wounded, the man was strong, and the adrenaline and the drive to escape fueled his rising panic. It took all Prompto had to keep Ignis from kicking him off him.
"Iggy! Iggy, stop struggling. We gotta clean your wound." The man calmed down a little at the sound of a familiar voice, but panic still raged through him and he couldn't help the reflex to struggle. The deep frown of anguish and confusion spoke volumes of his state.
"Wh- where am I?!"
"In the wild. Your wound got infected. We need to clean it." He watched keenly as the words sunk, understanding taking the edge off his panic. He stilled, still tense but no longer fighting. His teeth were bared in a silent snarl as the stinging pain tore through his chest.
When Prompto was sure the man had ceased his trashing, he stole a glance at the wound, and immediately wished he hadn't. He had to force back a gag. It was like a scene from any of his splatter horror movies, except that it was no movie. This was very real and the desperation lacing every single detail was very, very much present.
"It's not stopping!" Noct's tone was urgent, desperate, panicked. The deep eyes were pleading as they searched the amber for the answers.
"Take it easy, Noct," Gladio's zen tone cut through the chaos. "It's good to get it out. Just keep pressing it, it'll stop." He waited patiently to make sure the other had calmed down before turning his attention to the heavily panting strategist. "Iggy. I'm sorry but this's the only way. I'm gonna clean your wound with the Antidote. It's gonna hurt like hell. You ready?"
The shield wasn't sure if Ignis had grasped what he had told him. Nevertheless, he allowed the other a moment to brace, then went to pour the Antidote into the incision.
Ignis immediately arched as the liquid burned his maimed flesh. A scream tore out of his throat, and he struggled violently as his instincts flared again, each fiber in him screaming for him to run. Fighting his restrainers, he trashed as a wave after wave of fire scorched him.
"Ignis…! Dammit, Specs, hold still!" Noctis muttered almost pleadingly as he held him down, but Ignis was too far gone for words; so preoccupied with agony that he was reduced into the most basic particles of humanity. He was like a cornered animal: scared out of his wits; a mindless pile of flesh and instincts, and they were urging him to fight, to fight for his life.
It took agony. It took remorse. Ignis' pained moans and gasps of breath had them praying he would pass out. It would have been mercy. The Antidote brought out a vile stream of mucus: blood mixed with pus. There was so much of it! They emptied vial after vial, struggling, hoping beyond hope that it would be enough.
His voice quickly became raw and hoarse with screaming. He hadn't been in his top form to begin with; it didn't take much to wear the strategist out. It didn't stop the pain rasping out of his torn throat, however. They couldn't help him. All that the others could do was hope that this was over soon.
It all became too much for Ignis as Gladio poured the last drops of the second vial. With a tortured whine he went limp as blackness whisked him away. Prompto released a long overdue breath. "I never wanna do that again!" he half-gasped.
"Tough titty. There's no way of knowing if just one rinse with the Antidote's gonna be enough. We might have to do this again."
"You sure know how to bring a man down, dude," Prompto exasperated. "Look at him! He won't survive another round! Hell, we're not gonna survive another round!"
"Prompto..." Noctis' tone was demanding him to cool it. "You're not helpin'." The gunslinger looked like he wanted to spit something out, but realized what it would have sounded like and shut up with a frustrated huff.
The wound had slowed down significantly but his life force was still seeping out of the strategist steadily. Noctis had done his best to press it, mentally willing it to stop the bleeding, but small streaks of it still ran down Ignis' arm and dripped onto his jacket. "Uh, big guy?! A little help?"
"Hmph. You cut deep." It wasn't exactly an accusation but it wasn't a mere statement either. Prompto saw the flash of mortification before the prince turned to hide his face, and glared daggers at the larger man. He wasn't sure if that'd been just a slip-up, a blurt, or if the big guy had actually meant to stab Noct with it. And even if it had been intentional, it wouldn't have been anything new. Prompto hated the tension that had come to settle between Noct and Gladio. The two couldn't spend a day next to each other without a fight nowadays, and if they thought it didn't affect, well, it did. Prompto could see it. That every day it tore their group apart more. And right now, right now was a pretty bad timing for their lovers' quarrel!
The cap of the last Antidote vial came off with a snappy pop. The men's eyes were captivated by the sight of the turquoise liquid sizzling as it washed away the grime, burned to purify what was soiled. It was a generous splash, but it was merely the dark man's intention to clean the last of it before he motioned for Prompto. "You mind sparing that band of yours?"
Visibly flinching the blond took a moment to comprehend what was being asked of him. Initial shock and rejection flashed on his face before it melted into acceptance and resignation. "Yeah, suppose four-eyes needs it more than I do now." With a sad smile he almost ceremoniously took off his bandanna and handed it over. With a nod of acknowledgement as a thank you, the large man tightened it around Ignis' arm. Prompto eyed his ruined garment longingly. He would have to burn it afterwards.
"Thanks," Noctis muttered as the disturbing-looking incision disappeared under layers of fabric. His gaze rested on the band for a while before he pushed himself up and went to wipe his hands onto his jacket, the action leaving behind crimson stamps he seemed determined to ignore.
No-one said anything for a while. The aftermath of what they had just done darkened the mood; no one felt like talking. The temperature was rising and with it, more of the stale swampland air floated into their senses. The reek of rot suddenly felt more intense than before; the atmosphere was quickly turning into sweaty, pressing and awkward to everybody.
After a small eternity, Prompto broke the silence. "So, how should we do this, Noct?"
The prince didn't reply immediately. His eyes went over the landscape: swampy puddles, steep cliffs, and not a few miles down the meager path, the pile of junk they were headed for. It was bathing in the sun rays that filtered through the thin layer of fog, the paint glimmering beautifully where it was spared by rust. The sight was nothing short of majestic, and in a feeble thought he made a mental note to ask Prompto to take a picture of it.
Judging from the shadows, it was only just past noon; they would make it there, perhaps some ways back if they made haste, before the nightfall. Regrettably Noctis understood that they'd have to spend at least one more night in this god-forsaken pit, but that couldn't be helped. He considered Ignis, considered their chances. "Hey, big guy," he called without looking at him. "You mind carrying Specs?"
"Hmph. No doubt about it," he replied with a demonstrative shoulder-roll. "So, we going then or what, Your High-ass?"