Chapter 3: A Knight's Calling
They nearly had him. After kicking every butt that had thrown itself in the way during their siege of the Vault, they had barely managed to catch up with the Archbishop before he could set foot onto the awaiting airship. Not that it made the relief any less bitter; if they did not act fast, they would lose him.
Aymeric, injured but on his feet, staggered out past him, Haurchefant, and Alphinaud, leaving Lucia and Estinien to stand with them. Aymeric's words and eyes were for the Archbishop alone yet it all fell on deaf ears. He wasn't sure if it was movement or Haurchefant's intent but he met Haurchefant's gaze and knew immediately they were of the same mind: risk or no, they had to stop the Archbishop from leaving.
They ran for it.
They shouldn't have ran for it.
It was Haurchefant shouting his name, telling him to look out, that warned him of the incoming danger, not his own instinct or skill. His footfall staggered, slowing as he widened his awareness in order to find the danger - to figure out how to react - but Haurchefant was already upon him, a hand fisting the shoulder of his coat and yanking him off balance, forcing him to take a knee in Haurchefant's shadow. A bolt of aether slammed into the raised shield, sparking and sizzling against the steel yet the shield held. For a breath, he believed Haurchefant was going to be able to deflect the attack.
In the next, the sound of renting metal filled the air and the steel gave.
Brilliant aether darkened the rest of the world even as his gaze never left Haurchefant's back. The man was barely more than an outline against an even darker backdrop, the bolt of aether making the chain mail glitter as if made of crystals. Vaguely he registered heat blooming in his right shoulder as Haurchefant started to move oddly.
It wasn't until Haurchefant was splayed on his back that the mere seconds came crashing down on Echo'a's awareness.
The realization spurred him into action, the man's name tearing itself from his throat as he surged forward. Pain prickled his hands as the sheered ends of chainmail sliced at his palms and fingers, pain that he noticed with the initial sting and then forgot about in the next breath. Aether bloomed to life at the point of contact. If he could just heal enough of it - any of it - to keep the man alive long enough to get him to more skilled healers-
He was so focused on repairing the damage - that should have been his to suffer - that he failed to notice anyone else arriving until Alphinaud's hand joined his own, illuminated by the other's own healing magics, and it was like someone had flipped a switch. Every single body now huddled around the prone Haurchefant, their very presence grated on his awareness and seemed to skitter across his skin to the point that he wanted to claw his way out of it.
Except, no. That wasn't right; it wasn't their presence he was feeling, but the shed of unused aether.
But that would mean-
"It's no good," Alphinaud uttered beside him, cutting that thought off- "The wound is too deep." -only for desperation to surge through his chest. No, they could mend enough of it. Just a bit more and- "It refuses to mend."
The roaring of his own thoughts became a deafening silence.
Even without the others bouncing back his own aether, he could feel it simply passing through Haurchefant, unable to mend what wasn't there anymore, compounding Alphinaud's observation.
Alphinaud ceased his healing and withdrew but he couldn't bring himself to follow suit. If he stopped, Haurchefant would die. If he stopped-
Alphinaud's arm cut across his line of sight before it pressed into his arms, pushing at him until his hands had fallen away from Haurchefant completely. Only then did he stop. Only then did he allow himself to see the reality before him.
That arm was the only reason he remained upright, his entire body trembling in grief and rage and exertion as his hands gripped at Alphinaud's arm out of reflex.
"You…" His gaze came up immediately. Aymeric had propped Haurchefant up and he found himself meeting the dying man's gaze. The relief he saw in that pained expression only hurt more. "You are unharmed? F-Forgive me...I could not bear the thought of...of…"
Haurchefant raised his hand, reaching though the man lacked the strength to do so properly, and Echo'a immediately captured it between his own, shaking his head sharply as he urged, "Don't you dare." It came out far too choked. "Don't you dare apologize for-" My mistake; my lack of ability. Whichever had wanted to follow caught thickly in his throat and he shook his head again, weaker this time, as if it would be enough to dislodge them. "What hero apologizes for saving a life?"
Haurchefant chuckled at that. Or, at least tried to. There was the initial sound but it quickly became a cough that only added to the blood on the man's lips. "One that has...made dear friends cry," Haurchefant answered, his words growing more and more breathy as he spoke. "Though...truly...a smile better suits a hero."
Fresh tears flooded his eyes, blurring Haurchefant's face for the second it took for him to blink his vision clear, those hot tears streaking down his cheeks for his efforts. A chuckle - unwanted - bubbled out of his chest and pulled a half hearted smile to his lips. "So a dear friend says," he said because what was he supposed to say to that?
He had but a moment to catch the last of the smile on Haurchefant's lips before it went lax with the rest of the man's body. Even the hand he held so tightly between his own became dead weight in his grasp.
Seconds stretched into minutes - or maybe minutes shoved themselves into seconds - as he struggled to come to terms with the dead Haurchefant laid out before him.
And then everything swelled until he felt like he would burst from it. Rage clashed horribly with the grief, blending until he couldn't tell the two apart, and it tore at him; tore at his throat, tore at his heart until it became too much-
Alphinaud's hand was cold against his own, jarring him from the emotions enough for him to become hyper aware of where he was and what was going on. He shoved the scream that had nearly rent itself from his chest as far as it would go, burying it so that it would never see the light of day if he could help it. Alphinaud gave his hand a squeeze and he returned the gesture welcoming the pinpricks of pain from the cuts on his hand as some of that rage turned back onto himself.
What good was being a White Mage if he couldn't save the souls that deserved it the most?
They didn't realize he had also been injured in the attack until they had gathered once more in Aymeric's office roughly forty-five minutes later. More specifically, it was Estinien who realized they had not checked their Warrior of Light over well enough.
He had barely come out of the vision to Alphinaud's query when a rough hand grabbed at his shoulder.
"Estinien!" Aymeric exclaimed - and maybe Alphinaud - but Estinien was already jerking a startled Echo'a around to face him, pulling none too kindly at the right side of Echo'a's coat.
The shirt underneath was soaked with blood from a point an ilm or so under his right collar bone all the way down to the waist of his pants. The darkest of that strip was the same width as his thumb. The sight of it stirred the others into more hysterics he barely registered. He tried to bat away Estinien's hands, suddenly feeling cornered. Estinien's grip became painful on his shoulder as the man bit out, "You are not getting away without being attended to as well."
"It's fine," he bit back. "I don't even feel it."
Estinien bared his teeth, retorting, "Then all the more reason to be tended to. Sit down before I lose my patience and simply haul you to the infirmary."
In the end, it was Aymeric's gentle coaxing that got Echo'a to sit and tolerate being tended to. He sat expressionless as his shirt was pealed from his chest to reveal the injury the bolt left behind. Alphinaud's aether came to life against his skin and he flinched from it, hating the feel of it on his skin and in his shoulder. The sound of Alphinaud's voice curled around him but he couldn't discern the words it contained for the brief moment it filled the air.
To his surprise, Estinien took a knee and started washing the blood from his chest with the warm water Lucia had fetched. Aymeric knelt at Alphinaud's other side and took Echo'a's hands to clean his palms. It hadn't even dawned on him to clean himself up between the Vault and Aymeric's office and when Aymeric discovered the cuts on his palms and fingers, he desperately wished he had so he wouldn't have suffered the look Aymeric sent him.
"Echo'a," Aymeric started, the single word thick with things Echo'a didn't want to hear. He flinched from it, yanking his hand free as he tried to retreat. Unfortunately for him, it only made his back connect with the cold wall behind him and a shiver shot down his spine. The bowl of red tinged water Estinien was working from was far easier to glare at than trying to meet the Lord Commander's gaze with a neutral expression. Aymeric didn't push the issue. "Alphinaud, when you are done, his hands need tending to as well." Aymeric's touch was as gentle as his words when Aymeric picked up his other hand and started to clean it as well.
The injuries to his hands healed in an instant without even a hint of a scar. The injury to his chest left behind a crater for a scar big enough for him to seat the pad of his thumb in.
Though well and healed, the pain lingered for a long while after.
Time kept moving and a moment of reprieve never came. With Ishgard still far from anything resembling stability, there was no end to the list of demands asked of the Warrior of Light. He gave himself over to doing what was expected of the Warrior of Light, letting it all drown out the grief until he could barely feel it anymore.
The rage had long since abandoned him.
There were moments where the grief took him by surprise. Little things - unrelated things - would suddenly have him choking on tears or unable to breathe and he did his best to keep it all hidden from the others. He knew he wouldn't be able to get away with hiding it forever, not when he refused to be a White Mage on the field. He couldn't even look at the soul crystal let alone try and don the gear again without tears surging through his chest dragging with a scream he would never release.
He should have remembered his biggest tell was never the job he held.
Aymeric pressed a small roll into his hand, asking in a low voice, "How are you holding up, my friend?"
The room was empty save for the two of them. Lucia had stepped out upon his arrival and he hadn't thought much of it at the time. Now, though, he couldn't help but think it had been on purpose. He kept the small roll cupped in his palm as he answered simply, "Well enough."
Aymeric's expression fell. "I had hoped Lord Haurchefant had been exaggerating when he had spoken of your inability to eat upon your arrival in Ishgard, yet I have seen the proof with my very eyes since his passing." Aymeric's hand was uncomfortably heavy on his shoulder. "Is there truly naught I can do to help?"
He should have started crying then. Had he not been so detached from everything - so numb - he probably would have. Instead, he offered a weak smile. "Unfortunately, not even Haurchefant could do much to help me in those first few days." He covered Aymeric's wrist with his free hand. "Truly, though, you have done enough by simply caring. I will be fine with a bit more time." Did leaving it arbitrary count as lying?
Aymeric's hand moved to the side of his neck high enough that Aymeric's thumb rubbed against the hinge of Echo'a's jaw, a gesture he was sure was meant to comfort. He pressed back into it, grateful - desperate - for it in a way that made him immediately regret the motion. He buried that regret too when Aymeric's expression lost some of the pain it held. "My door is always open should you ever want for company, Echo'a."
He nodded, the hollowness in his chest shifting but refusing to ease. It certainly wasn't enough to make him feel any less numb but it did help to return some semblance of a meager appetite.