[ The more time passes, the further away Gansey feels. His body is still present, but his mind is trying to check out. He thinks about Adam's arm there on the sheets, and he fixes on his closed eyes, his pale skin. He's so still. And outside, there's blood all over their floor, and there's a severed hand, and there's broken furniture and the sound of terrible things trying to get in.
Ronan's voice comes back, stronger than before. Gansey makes himself nod. ]
No. No, he shouldn't. You...should stay with him.
[ Because Ronan loves him, and Ronan can comfort him. And Ronan just had to take Adam's hand off, and there needs to be a way for them both to deal with that. Gansey glances up, arranging his face. It's not quite a smile, but it's a solid mask that pretends at resilience that Gansey doesn't feel. He nods. ]
Call me if you need anything.
[ And then he retreats, back into the main room. For a second or two he looks at the door he's just shut behind him. He has to physically steel himself before he looks back at the chaos around him. Then he takes it all in at once; the floor, the knife, the blood, the furniture, the mess. All of it. And he goes to the kitchen, fills bowls of water from the sink, and then he comes back, and he deals with it.
He concentrates on the physicality of it. It's like when he can't sleep, and he takes himself swimming, or driving, and let's his body organize itself when his mind cannot. That's what he does now. He doesn't let himself think or rest, he just cleans the floor until the blood is gone, and the bowls of water are red. He empties them before he can spend time thinking about that, too, and then he's back in the room, straightening as much of the furniture as he can, and clearing anything that's broken off to a pile in one corner. Finally, when there's nothing else to be done, he turns to face the severed hand, where it still lies with the knife beside it.
By now, the infection has taken hold. It's shades of black and green, and no longer really looks like Adam's hand at all. If Gansey thinks about it like that, he can just about ignore the buzzing of the hornets in his ears. He can just about keep his vision focused. He goes to where his clothes are stored, and finds one of the t-shirts that he'd scavenged here. He takes it over to the hand, and very carefully, without directly touching the flesh, he wraps it up.
Then he has the problem of what to do with it. Taking it outside is not an option, not with those creatures still trying to get in. So he goes to the kitchen again, and searches violently until he finds an empty container. This used to hold ice cream, he recalls, which he'd found with Noah on that one week when everything turned into candy and happiness. Christ, that seems like a long time ago. He washes it out, and then puts the hand inside, sealing the lid firmly. Then it goes to the pile of broken furniture. They can remove it without needing to look at it. That will be better.
He manages not to throw up until he lifts the knife. That, this very last thing, is a step too far. He lifts it, and his hand shakes, and his stomach turns over. Gansey runs for the sink, and he doesn't know how long he's there. By the time he's empty, he feels like it's been a night and a day. It's probably only been minutes.
Shivering now, he has enough presence of mind to rinse it all away. He's struggling, feeling weakness spread through his limbs and blackness tug at the edge of his vision. The buzzing is getting louder, and he knows what it means. He can't tell now whether he feels cold, or far too hot. His knees are going to give out, and he's going to scream. His hand is already at his ears, brushing away insects that aren't even there.
He leans away from the sink, reaching to set the knife down. He means to do so gently, but his fingers lose purchase on it, and it clatters roughly to the metal. It spins before settling, and Gansey stares at it in confusion. He steps back, almost tripping over his own feet. His back hits the wall, and then he expects to hit the floor; he's sliding down, his hands over his ears.
He never gets there. As blackness overtakes his vision, he doesn't scream. He vanishes altogether, his body turning insubstantial and then disappearing as he's whisked back towards home. Oblivion overtakes him and he fights through it, knowing that Adam needs him, Ronan needs him, they're going to need his help -
But then his eyes open, and Blue's warm hand is against his cheek. He blinks through his confusion, and gasps air into his lungs as he pushes himself up to sit. And Adam is there, and Ronan is beside him in tears, and Henry is behind them both with horror in his eyes. Gansey tries to hold on to what he'd been feeling before, to memories that are already scattering - something was wrong with Adam, there was something about his hand - but Adam is there, and his hands are his own again, and Ronan has stopped crying and is moving closer to Gansey. And the memories that are clear to him are those of the demon, of sacrificing himself, of kissing Blue, who is wrapping her arms around him now. He hugs her back, still in shock.
Something was wrong. Something more than this was wrong, and yet it's gone. Vanished from his mind as if it were never there. All he remembers is the horror, and he shakes his head. His mouth tastes terrible. ]
I...Christ, I had the most awful dream.
[ He tells them all, but they're not upset. They're relieved, and clinging to him, and Gansey lets himself fall into that. He's survived. Somehow, everything is going to be all right. The dream, whatever it was, can be allowed to fade.
no subject
Ronan's voice comes back, stronger than before. Gansey makes himself nod. ]
No. No, he shouldn't. You...should stay with him.
[ Because Ronan loves him, and Ronan can comfort him. And Ronan just had to take Adam's hand off, and there needs to be a way for them both to deal with that. Gansey glances up, arranging his face. It's not quite a smile, but it's a solid mask that pretends at resilience that Gansey doesn't feel. He nods. ]
Call me if you need anything.
[ And then he retreats, back into the main room. For a second or two he looks at the door he's just shut behind him. He has to physically steel himself before he looks back at the chaos around him. Then he takes it all in at once; the floor, the knife, the blood, the furniture, the mess. All of it. And he goes to the kitchen, fills bowls of water from the sink, and then he comes back, and he deals with it.
He concentrates on the physicality of it. It's like when he can't sleep, and he takes himself swimming, or driving, and let's his body organize itself when his mind cannot. That's what he does now. He doesn't let himself think or rest, he just cleans the floor until the blood is gone, and the bowls of water are red. He empties them before he can spend time thinking about that, too, and then he's back in the room, straightening as much of the furniture as he can, and clearing anything that's broken off to a pile in one corner. Finally, when there's nothing else to be done, he turns to face the severed hand, where it still lies with the knife beside it.
By now, the infection has taken hold. It's shades of black and green, and no longer really looks like Adam's hand at all. If Gansey thinks about it like that, he can just about ignore the buzzing of the hornets in his ears. He can just about keep his vision focused. He goes to where his clothes are stored, and finds one of the t-shirts that he'd scavenged here. He takes it over to the hand, and very carefully, without directly touching the flesh, he wraps it up.
Then he has the problem of what to do with it. Taking it outside is not an option, not with those creatures still trying to get in. So he goes to the kitchen again, and searches violently until he finds an empty container. This used to hold ice cream, he recalls, which he'd found with Noah on that one week when everything turned into candy and happiness. Christ, that seems like a long time ago. He washes it out, and then puts the hand inside, sealing the lid firmly. Then it goes to the pile of broken furniture. They can remove it without needing to look at it. That will be better.
He manages not to throw up until he lifts the knife. That, this very last thing, is a step too far. He lifts it, and his hand shakes, and his stomach turns over. Gansey runs for the sink, and he doesn't know how long he's there. By the time he's empty, he feels like it's been a night and a day. It's probably only been minutes.
Shivering now, he has enough presence of mind to rinse it all away. He's struggling, feeling weakness spread through his limbs and blackness tug at the edge of his vision. The buzzing is getting louder, and he knows what it means. He can't tell now whether he feels cold, or far too hot. His knees are going to give out, and he's going to scream. His hand is already at his ears, brushing away insects that aren't even there.
He leans away from the sink, reaching to set the knife down. He means to do so gently, but his fingers lose purchase on it, and it clatters roughly to the metal. It spins before settling, and Gansey stares at it in confusion. He steps back, almost tripping over his own feet. His back hits the wall, and then he expects to hit the floor; he's sliding down, his hands over his ears.
He never gets there. As blackness overtakes his vision, he doesn't scream. He vanishes altogether, his body turning insubstantial and then disappearing as he's whisked back towards home. Oblivion overtakes him and he fights through it, knowing that Adam needs him, Ronan needs him, they're going to need his help -
But then his eyes open, and Blue's warm hand is against his cheek. He blinks through his confusion, and gasps air into his lungs as he pushes himself up to sit. And Adam is there, and Ronan is beside him in tears, and Henry is behind them both with horror in his eyes. Gansey tries to hold on to what he'd been feeling before, to memories that are already scattering - something was wrong with Adam, there was something about his hand - but Adam is there, and his hands are his own again, and Ronan has stopped crying and is moving closer to Gansey. And the memories that are clear to him are those of the demon, of sacrificing himself, of kissing Blue, who is wrapping her arms around him now. He hugs her back, still in shock.
Something was wrong. Something more than this was wrong, and yet it's gone. Vanished from his mind as if it were never there. All he remembers is the horror, and he shakes his head. His mouth tastes terrible. ]
I...Christ, I had the most awful dream.
[ He tells them all, but they're not upset. They're relieved, and clinging to him, and Gansey lets himself fall into that. He's survived. Somehow, everything is going to be all right. The dream, whatever it was, can be allowed to fade.
His friends are here, and he'll keep them safe. ]