[Cabeswater shows him a shuffling of images, a flickering, strange mixture of familiar things and utterly strange ones. A shadowy shape in a mirror, the roots of a tree growing through the dirt, a stag lifting its head, storm clouds rushing across the sky. Thunder rumbling through Adam's bones, a hand on his, a welcome touch. Skeletal arms reaching through the dark, skittering along the branches.
Gansey, Adam thinks, trying to focus, trying to pry what he needs from what the forest is showing him. It has a mind of its own, it usually only shows him what it needs. These conversations, if that's what they are, are usually Adam asking it what it needs and it telling him however he can understand. It's not this, him asking, him reaching for an answer that has nothing to do with the ley line.
Not nothing. Gansey is connected too, in his own way. Not the way Adam or Noah or Ronan is, not inextricably and intensely, but there is a connection. Please, Adam thinks, but there's enough force behind it that it's not a plea, not really. Adam is stubborn and Adam is tenacious and Adam is what he is because he was willing to do what needed to be done. This is what needs to be done, and if Cabeswater doesn't understand that, he'll make it.
It isn't as difficult as that, though. It's like cupping water in shaky hands, droplets slipping through every moment, difficult but not impossible. He thinks of Gansey, a steady, warm presence, Gansey who he fights with and hurts and doesn't deserve but who is always their guiding light, the one who's somehow managed to keep them in one piece despite all odds. How much Adam needs to know that he's safe, how much he desperately wants Gansey's safety and comfort and happiness, knowing that it can't last. But he'll save Gansey, he'll give everything he has to be sure of his friend's life, he won't be responsible for the death of one of the only people who's ever thought he was worth anything at all. And this, right now, he needs for himself and he needs for Ronan, because Adam can be sensible and practical but he can't calm their fears. He needs to know.
He sees it then, snapshots and moments. Gansey and his ridiculous polos and his hands carefully building a piece of Henrietta. Gansey, safe. And Adam doubts, because he always doubts, but somehow - somehow there's no reason to. He doubts because that's what he does, not because it isn't true. He knows what's true and what isn't, at least right here, at least right now. He knows what he sees, and what he sees is Gansey at Monmouth, in Henrietta, where he belongs.
He lets go, in his relief. His body isn't even a concern, isn't even something he's thinking of, though on some level Adam knows he got what he came for and it's time to go back. But there's more, there's always more, Cabeswater always has things to show him. He has things to show himself. It's easy to go deeper, hard to remember why he shouldn't.
There's a sense of stillness to Cabeswater, a frozen feeling, but Adam himself is nothing like frozen. He's changing, always, and here no less than back home. Bits of himself are cracking, other bits are coming together, some things making more sense and others making less. He sees a flower, a weed, blooming out of cracked dirt, surviving when it shouldn't. A wisp of smoke, blown apart by the wind, barely holding together. Blood soaking into wet ground. A flock of birds, turning as one. Ronan's hands, bloody and broken from digging graves for days. Rotting leaves on the ground and birds screaming someone's name and a wolf's yellow eyes and more, more, more.
Adam doesn't know how long it's been. No time at all, he thinks, and sinks deeper, reaching for more certainty, more knowledge that Gansey is safe, that they will be all right.]
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Gansey, Adam thinks, trying to focus, trying to pry what he needs from what the forest is showing him. It has a mind of its own, it usually only shows him what it needs. These conversations, if that's what they are, are usually Adam asking it what it needs and it telling him however he can understand. It's not this, him asking, him reaching for an answer that has nothing to do with the ley line.
Not nothing. Gansey is connected too, in his own way. Not the way Adam or Noah or Ronan is, not inextricably and intensely, but there is a connection. Please, Adam thinks, but there's enough force behind it that it's not a plea, not really. Adam is stubborn and Adam is tenacious and Adam is what he is because he was willing to do what needed to be done. This is what needs to be done, and if Cabeswater doesn't understand that, he'll make it.
It isn't as difficult as that, though. It's like cupping water in shaky hands, droplets slipping through every moment, difficult but not impossible. He thinks of Gansey, a steady, warm presence, Gansey who he fights with and hurts and doesn't deserve but who is always their guiding light, the one who's somehow managed to keep them in one piece despite all odds. How much Adam needs to know that he's safe, how much he desperately wants Gansey's safety and comfort and happiness, knowing that it can't last. But he'll save Gansey, he'll give everything he has to be sure of his friend's life, he won't be responsible for the death of one of the only people who's ever thought he was worth anything at all. And this, right now, he needs for himself and he needs for Ronan, because Adam can be sensible and practical but he can't calm their fears. He needs to know.
He sees it then, snapshots and moments. Gansey and his ridiculous polos and his hands carefully building a piece of Henrietta. Gansey, safe. And Adam doubts, because he always doubts, but somehow - somehow there's no reason to. He doubts because that's what he does, not because it isn't true. He knows what's true and what isn't, at least right here, at least right now. He knows what he sees, and what he sees is Gansey at Monmouth, in Henrietta, where he belongs.
He lets go, in his relief. His body isn't even a concern, isn't even something he's thinking of, though on some level Adam knows he got what he came for and it's time to go back. But there's more, there's always more, Cabeswater always has things to show him. He has things to show himself. It's easy to go deeper, hard to remember why he shouldn't.
There's a sense of stillness to Cabeswater, a frozen feeling, but Adam himself is nothing like frozen. He's changing, always, and here no less than back home. Bits of himself are cracking, other bits are coming together, some things making more sense and others making less. He sees a flower, a weed, blooming out of cracked dirt, surviving when it shouldn't. A wisp of smoke, blown apart by the wind, barely holding together. Blood soaking into wet ground. A flock of birds, turning as one. Ronan's hands, bloody and broken from digging graves for days. Rotting leaves on the ground and birds screaming someone's name and a wolf's yellow eyes and more, more, more.
Adam doesn't know how long it's been. No time at all, he thinks, and sinks deeper, reaching for more certainty, more knowledge that Gansey is safe, that they will be all right.]