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letsbenditlikebennett · 6 months

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TIMING: After this PARTIES: @chasseurdeloup @kadavernagh @magmahearts & @letsbenditlikebennett LOCATION: Office of the Medical Examiner SUMMARY: After Rhett attacks Cass and leaves her in a bad state, Alex gets her out of the woods and calls Kaden for a ride to the morgue as soon as she has cell reception. Or Regan, again, receives unexpected live patients at the morgue and Marcy needs a raise.

The time between when she hung up the phone with Kaden and when he actually arrived had felt like an eternity. Alex was certain that the warden wouldn't be moving again, at least for a little while, but the blood that clung to her wasn't just Rhett's. As if instinctively, it she gripped onto Cass tighter, desperately trying to keep them both upright until her cousin got there which was a far too grim reminder that too much of the blood that caked her skin was Cass's. She had to actively fight the sick feeling growing in her stomach. Even on a good day, she wasn't good with blood and now she was covered in it. Not even the spare giant t-shirt that went down to her knees was safe from it as her girlfriend continued to bleed and Alex tried to try pressure to the myriad of different wounds that covered the oread.

“I just need you to stay with me a little longer, ok,” Alex practically pleaded though she tried to give her a voice a reassuring tone. She wasn't sure how much it covered up her own fear. She doubted it did at all. “Kaden'll be here any minute, it's going to be okay.”

She wasn't sure who she was reassuring, but when she saw headlights coming up the road and the familiar sound of Kaden's engine. Alex had never been so relieved to hear him approaching. She was pretty sure she could actually cry, but she wouldn't. Cass was hurt and she needed to be brave for Cass. Or at least try.

When the car rolled to a stop, she waited for Kaden to rush to her side. “Thank you,” she huffed, “She's heavier than she looks... rock and all. I think I've been applying pressure to the worst of it. I can sit in the back with her on the way to the morgue.”

She had her suspicions about Regan being a nymph herself, but they were just that. Suspicions. Alex had no actual clue if the medical examiner would be able to work with... well, a girl made of rocks. “Dr. Kavanagh should be able to help her, right?“ Regan had to be able to help her because the alternative was too difficult to stomach.

—

The keys were in Kaden’s hand and he was hopping into his truck before he’d even hung up with Alex. He didn’t know exactly what was going on, just that it was an emergency, in the woods, hurt. Cass. He considered using the work truck and flipping on the lights to get there even faster but he figured, whatever it was that had actually happened, he would want the space of his normal truck. He dared someone to pull him over on the way there. He’d run them over.

He saw their small figures across the way long before he was close enough to stop the car. It was hard to resist the temptation to throw it in park and sprint to them the second his eyes were on Alex and her girlfriend but he managed and pulled up as close as he possibly could, tires skidding into place.

“Putain,” he said, throwing himself out of the car. His eyes swept over Alex, trying to assess her wounds. She was roughed up but alright. His eyes fell over Cass and it was clear that she was far from okay. “Alex what the hell happened to her?” He knew she mentioned a hunter but he hadn’t assumed Cass was this injured. Crouching down beside her, it was hard to believe this was the same kid who had no trouble facing off with a pinball whirling towards her. She was beaten down, broken. The sparks of life she was filled to the brim with before were fading away.

Kaden nodded at Alex’s words and reached under the nymph to carefully scoop her up. He didn’t have any plan on how to help her but he knew they had to do something. Fast. First step was to get her into the truck and away from here.

Kavanagh? His brow furrowed at the mention of the medical examiner. Made sense. Was as good a plan as any. “Maybe. I think so.” He couldn’t think about anything beyond the immediate. “Fae. She knows about fae. And she’s a doctor.” He wasn’t sure if he was telling Alex or reminding himself. “We’ll get her there. Keep pressure and support her while I lift her. On three.”

—

There was no room to do anything but push forward. It brought a certain sense of clarity with it. There wasn't room for panic or acknowledging the multitude of sensations that would make Alex sick to her stomach under less dire circumstances. If her head had been more clear maybe she would have thought of the miracle that was adrenaline, but all she could think of was making sure Cass was okay. So when she answered Kaden, the weight of her answer didn't fully register.

“A warden... We met him before but didn't know he was— I heard her scream when I was hiking toward the cave and he had already grabbed her. He was going to kill her so I stopped him,” Alex said flatly, ”If he didn't bleed out already, he knows what I am.“ Whether or not Rhett was dead wasn't something she could think about when Cass was barely hanging on. Hell, she was barely hanging on in the strength department which became harder to ignore when Kaden lifted Cass into the truck and she realized her own legs were shaking.

The weight Kaden lifted was more than a physical one as Alex felt some hint of relief once Cass was being lifted into the truck. Her left arm carefully kept the oread's neck upright as the other hand kept pressure against the wound on her shoulder. She was quick to follow into the truck once they got Cass inside; she knew she'd have to keep applying pressure to the wound in Cass's shoulder which looked so much worse than it ought to, even for an iron blade. Her already blood-caked hand found the wound and pressed down on it. ”I think she is fae,“ she added, ”But that's... She can help. She'll be able to make sure Cass is okay.“

There was an unspoken desperation in her words. Alex wasn't sure if that was part of what pushed Kaden to drive at such a rapid pace, but she found she didn't care even if the way the trees whipped by them was dizzying. ”It's going to be okay,“ she reassured quietly as she looked down at Cass. She wasn't sure entirely who she was trying to convince, but Cass being okay felt like the only option. ”I've got you,“ she whispered. She'd promise as much if Cass would let her.

Trees kept zipping by through the window as Alex remained still as could be. She was afraid to move, to shift Cass in a way that might make things worse, but the stillness of it all let the events catch up to her a bit. ”We'll need to go back and check that he's,“ she trailed off, unable to fully let herself acknowledge that she very well may have killed Rhett— or worse, that some small part of her hoped he was dead.

—

A warden. Knew what Alex was. Nearly killed Cass. Was probably bleeding out. Kaden tried to process the information but there was too much happening all at once. He had to focus on the task at hand: save the nymph in the back of the truck. The rest he would file away for later, figure it out then. Like if there was a dead body they had to worry about. And if they should inform the medical examiner during this visit.

None of that mattered as much as driving as fast and as carefully as he could directly to the morgue. As soon as he closed the door on Alex, he rushed to the driver’s seat and tore out of there and back onto the road. Hopefully he wasn’t bringing Regan another dead body. A pit dropped in his stomach at the thought. No. His grip tightened on the wheel. He wasn’t going to let that happen.

“Worry about that later,” he said to her, eyes pinned forward, not even allowing himself to look back at her through the rearview mirror. If he looked back, he’d lose focus, start worrying about what else they could do. He had to stay single minded, focus on the mission. It wasn’t a hunt but for once his training might save someone instead of hurting them.

Kaden wove his truck through traffic, barely stopped at any signs or lights, and raced through town to get them to the morgue. He didn’t bother finding a spot, instead throwing the truck into park right along the curb outside the glass doors. It briefly occurred to him that it would be hard enough to explain why they were carrying someone alive into the morgue to see the medical examiner and even harder to explain what Cass was to the front desk. Putain de merde.

He hadn’t come up with any sort of plan or anything at all by the time he was helping pull the fae out of the truck. “I’ve got her,” he told Alex. “Get the door, call for Regan. Maybe, I don’t know, tell the front desk to leave.” He winced once the full weight of Cass’s rock covered body was in his arms. It was strange that someone so small and who looked so fragile just then could be so heavy. It wouldn’t slow him down, he wouldn’t falter, he wouldn’t let himself.

—

It was a small kindness that Kaden was willing to talk about the warden aspect of things later. Alex wasn’t sure she could rely on herself to really recount the details when Cass felt so cold in her arms. The blood was pooling in the hands that were desperately pressing down on the wound in her shoulder. It took a concentrated effort to keep her hands from shaking, surprisingly not because of the slick feeling of blood against her skin, but because she was terrified. Even when that ranger had a gun pointed in her direction, she couldn’t remember feeling this frightened. Cass was too quiet in her arms, her features too pained and contorted. All she could think of was how much the oread meant to her and the fact it felt like she was slipping away right there in her arms.

The fact Kaden hadn’t bothered with parking etiquette was more than a relief to Alex. Every second between them and getting Cass proper help felt like an eternity. The truck was practically pulled up to the glass doors and Kaden was carefully extracting Cass from the truck. She hopped out following and nodded diligently as Kaden spoke. “Ok,” she answered, “I’ll get Marcy… to not be there. And get Dr. Kavanagh. Just… I’ll be quick.” Her eyes fell to Cass, “Hang in there, okay?”

She wasn’t sure the oread could hear her so Alex simply ran off and into the fluorescent lighting of the morgue. She remembered Marcy from before and she seemed to be typing away on her computer. What was the best way to ensure Marcy didn’t follow Regan back to her desk? “Hi, Marcy,” she greeted more frantically than she would have liked, “I need to see Dr. Kavanagh… it’s important medical examiner business. Tell her it’s Alex Bennett. I… uh I have Animal Control Officer Langley outside, too. You should probably… I think you look like you totally deserve to take your lunch break like right after grabbing Dr. Kavanagh.”

—

“Fiddlesticks, fudge, no, figh can’t be right…” Marcy glanced up from her phone as the doors opened and… oh, this had Dr. Kavanagh all over it. She remembered Alex Bennett, one of the doc’s oddball visitors, and apparently she brought company. Another person. No, wait, two other – oh. Oh, fiddlesticks. This seemed urgent enough to call the doctor instead of shooting her a text. She did so immediately. “Regan, we have a code ‘what the fuck’ up here.” Marcy looked nervously at the three mostly-strangers who had interrupted her game of Connections (today’s theme of f-expletives seemed appropriate, suddenly), her eyes wide with confusion and perhaps some degree of understanding. Her fingers danced across the tabletop and finally Regan picked up.

“Can this wait?” the doctor asked, sounding exasperated, “I’m in the middle of a–”

Marcy cut her off. “Please don’t tell me what body part your hand is in. This is, like, really ‘what the fuck’. Come now, okay?”

Regan simply hung up, and Marcy stared blankly at Alex, trying not to look at the company she’d walked in with. Marcy usually lived for gossip (and both Regan and Morty were the perfect fodder) but this was something else. Regan couldn’t come fast enough.

The last time they’d had a code ‘what the fuck,’ it had been because a horde of crabs came scuttling in and nearly carried Marcy away with them. The crabs seemed to be gone, but Regan reasonably expected something else quite serious. She rushed out and up, barreling through the doors. Oh, how she wished it were crabs.

Kaden. Alex. Some lump in his arms. This cinniúint-amú family. Treating her morgue like a – She halted, midstep, feeling the presence of something, someone else. The lump was more than a lump. More than human, even. Regan raced to get closer, immediately setting her hands on the fae’s strange skin (was it part of what was wrong?). A girl, barely more than a child. Unconscious, or near it.

Regan’s first instinct was to shout, break some lights, remind Kaden that this was not the emergency department and serious injuries needed to be attended to elsewhere. But the injured being fae changed the equation significantly. She could not go to a hospital, and especially not looking like this. And where better was there, really? Before Regan had arrived in Saol Eile, they had relied upon inexperienced hands and anecdotes reeking of homeopathy. Regan understood the lack of options. She just didn’t like it. “Langley. Why are you always involved in these things?” She narrowed her eyes at Kaden, who was too easy to blame, but really, Alex had been equally involved in her own injury and possibly what was happening right now. Kaden was older, though, and his shoulders were adequately-muscled for carrying blame.

Right now she needed him to carry their injured. “Hurry it up,” she said, carding the doors open and pointing; Kaden probably remembered where her office was, but they might need the space and tools the autopsy suite would afford them today. What a screaming mess this was. She wasn’t even sure the two of them knew the girl was fae. Regan waved a curt but grateful goodbye to Marcy, who needed no instruction on what to do next (stall Rickers). “Continue past my office and into the autopsy room. Give me as much medical history as you have and tell me what happened. And tell me what’s wrong with her skin.” Regan paused, feeling confident in her words, which seemed worth delivering. “She will not die here.”

In the autopsy suite, she did not waste a second. There were rarely emergencies here; the dead did not mind waiting for their procedures. But now she was filled with an energy and urgency she hadn’t felt in a long time. “On the table. Now.” There was a decedent lying on the adjacent autopsy table. Regan had just managed to stuff his organs back into him and stitch him up, but he needed to be put back in the fridge. She did not like the idea of anyone else touching her patients. She was even stingy when it came to Rickers and the techs. But… her eyes flicked between the dead and the living, and with a defeated sigh, she then looked over at Kaden. “He goes in 8F. If you drop him I will place you in there instead.” She turned to the girl, pulled open her eyelids. The pupils responded automatically to the harsh overhead light. Good. “Round, equal, and reactive.”

Her skin was hard, craggy like stone, and it defied anything Regan had ever seen before. Had the circumstances been different, she could have spent hours looking at it under a microscope and her scalpel. But the circumstances were what they were, and what could have been exciting and full of wonder was currently a hindrance, obscuring what she needed to see. She decided to take a gamble with their knowledge. “You need to get her to glamour.” Regan said, meeting Alex’s eyes with a deadly serious intensity. “She may not be able to hold it in place, but she must, even if it’s only around her injuries. I cannot see what’s going on under this… material. And would not know how to treat it like this.” There was one thing she could see plainly, though: a deep, smoking wound across her left shoulder, like a flaming blade had been plunged through muscle. It was open, exposing something underneath that glowed with orange, pulsing energy, but no blood. “I believe this is from cold iron. Quickly. If you cannot wake her, I can, but it will hurt.”

—

Kaden didn’t know Cass as well as he’d like but he knew enough. He knew was going to do every goddamn thing he could to keep her alive. He knew he was going to find that warden and— He didn’t know what came after that. Because first thing was carrying Cass into the morgue and forgetting that this building housed dead bodies. She wasn’t going to be one of them. “I’ve got you,” he said as his arms cradled her rock covered body. The edges and rough surface dug and pinched into his skin, likely leaving marks and bruises. If there was pain, he didn’t notice, just held on tighter. “Stay with me. Alex is inside.” His words came out like gasps and he couldn’t be sure if that was due to the adrenaline coursing through his veins or the fact that she was heavy in his arms. He was shuffling to the door as fast as he could, very aware of the fact that with Alex going ahead, no one was able to put pressure on the wounds. “Magma’s not going to go down like this, alright?”

If there was anyone working the front desk, Kaden didn’t notice her. His eyes were searching for one person and one person only. He was already headed directly to her office when his eyes locked on hers, a tiny flick of hope lighting up in him. Apparently she wasn’t as thankful to see him. Right now, he didn’t give a shit if she wanted him there or not, she was going to help with the kid. “You can scream at me later, Kavanagh. Help her.” He barely had to pause as the doors slid open. Relief was a second away when she said to go to the autopsy suite instead. His head shot around to face her, his brows knit together and worry written across his face. She will not die here. He didn’t know if that was a wish or a fact, but Regan’s tone seemed to write it in stone. He was going to cling to them as tightly as he held Cass.

Once they were inside the suite, Kaden did his best to set her down gently on the table, but it was difficult to rest rock on metal without any clashing. He winced at the sounds, hoping he hadn’t made anything worse, silently apologizing to her as he laid her down. Kaden backed away and thought that, for the time being, the extent of his ability to help was spent. He was shocked to hear that wasn’t the case. His eyes fell on the dead body next to Cass, sutures laced all the way down from his chest. He wasn’t a stranger to dead bodies, but he never saw them like this. His stomach churned and he could feel bile churning up to his throat. “He goes in… 8F?” he repeated, hoping that it might buy him the time to steady himself as he went pale.

Putain de merde. This was stupid, he had dealt with much worse, scenes that were far more gruesome and had caused worse than that. In here, in this setting, surrounded by the cold and sterile medical supplies, it felt completely different. He took a deep breath before he nodded, grit his teeth, and decided to rip off the metaphorical band aid. Just pretend they’re alive, he thought as he rolled the body towards the right drawer. Fucking hell, he was putting a body in a drawer. Right. Easier said than done. Just had to make sure he didn’t vomit or pass out in the process.

—

She will not die here.

There was no way those words could be spoken with absolute certainty, but Alex clung onto them like they were a liferaft. Her mind sunk its claws into them as if they were some tangible string she could tangle and keep in her grip. The alternative wasn’t something she could consider. The alternative terrified her.

Though a small part of her felt guilty that Regan seemed to think Kaden was somehow involved in what happened to Cass or could have been the cause. Alex shook her head. “It’s not Kaden’s fault,” she explained, “I couldn’t carry her all the way– I needed a ride.” Given the bone nymph was straight on to business, which wasn’t at all surprising, she stopped herself from overexplaining because the truth of it was simple, wasn’t it? No matter how good Cass was, no matter how many people she helped during her patrols as Magma, there would always be a warden out there like Rhett who didn’t care and wanted her dead anyway.

“This is my girlfriend, Cass,” Alex explained, looking at the oread in Kaden’s arms somewhat helplessly, “I was meeting her for a picnic and I found her being attacked by a warden. She probably… we met him before but didn’t know he was a warden. She probably…” The words caught in her throat. “He didn’t follow us, I promise,” she quickly added, hoping it answered enough that Regan and let her know there wasn’t an immediate threat following.

Whatever Dr. Kavanagh asked of her, Alex would do it happily. Already, the medical examiner was taking control of the situation in a way that seemed practiced. It probably was practiced. Even if most of Regan’s patients were already dead, she was still a medical doctor. Emergency training was part of the education and well, Regan also seemed inclined to let the stray non-dead patient into her morgue too. If she wasn’t so damn scared that her girlfriend was about to be knocking death’s door, she may have watched Regan work with more admiration. As it was, she was quick to follow instructions. Any directive the doctor gave her was meant to help Cass, so aptly paid attention and followed into the autopsy room.

The dead body on the table next to Cass hadn’t even fully registered until Regan was directing Kaden to put it in… a drawer. Alex knew how morgues worked in theory, but the normally unsettling idea was completely overlooked as she carefully looked over Cass. Regan mentioned a glamour and it made Alex positive that coming to the bone nymph was the right call… even if the doctor wouldn’t call herself a bone nymph. There was a weight in Regan’s gaze that made Alex immediately nod dutifully.

“I’ll do what I can,” Alex agreed, “I don’t… she’s already in enough pain.”

Her attention shifted to Cass and Alex leaned closer to the table as she looked the oread over. Neither arm looked too good, so she wasn’t sure hand was the right way to get Cass’s attention. Instead, her hand found Cass’s cheek and softly cupped it in her hand. “Cass,” she breathed out. No, she had to speak up. Her voice couldn’t be as small and scared as she felt. “Cass,” she spoke louder, “Babe, I need you to concentrate for a little while. I know it hurts… but we have help, ok? Dr. Kavanagh just needs you to put up your glamour, at least around your injuries so she can start taking care of them.”

Cass stirred under her touch and Alex let out a breath she hadn’t realized she held in. “You can hold my hand as tight as you need, if it helps,” she added, “But you got this, ok? You’re like the bravest and strongest person I know… if anyone can throw on the ‘ol razzle dazzle in a time like this, it’s you. I think… focus on getting it on for your shoulder first?” She gave Regan an inquisitive look, hoping that she gave the right directive there.

—

There were flashes, after the woods. She remembered walking with Alex, her feet so much heavier than they usually felt. Alex’s voice, talking first to her and then to someone else, their responses tinny and far away as they came through the speaker of a phone. Then Kaden was there, too, in the blink-of-an-eye kind of way that meant she was definitely losing time. Another blink, and she was laying across Alex’s lap in the backseat of an unfamiliar car. Another, and they were somewhere else. She heard Alex and Kaden talking, but she couldn’t track the conversation. Alex vanished for a moment, and Cass let out a low whine, feeling more like a child than she had in such a long time.

Another flash. Someone was holding her. They were moving, and she felt the vibrations but they were stilted, dull. Everything was, the world narrowed to the pain in her shoulder where Rhett’s knife had gone in. That hurt more than the broken arm, and there was something almost funny about that, wasn’t there? You’d think the broken thing would hurt more. You’d think.

Kaden said something to her, and it took longer than it should have for it to register. Called her Magma, and she let out a quiet sound that was almost a laugh. Had she told him? She didn’t remember. Maybe he’d known all the while, the whole time. Or maybe she was Magma not Cass to him at the moment. Did Spider-Man have this problem? She swore she knew, but she couldn’t remember.

Another flash, and there was something solid under her back. It was cold; everything was cold. There was a flutter in her gut that was familiar, but felt as far away as the rest of it. Another fae? For a moment, some childish, outlandish part of her wondered if it was her father or someone from that long-forgotten aos si in Hawai’i. If one of them cared enough, somehow, to know she was in trouble and just… appear. But when her eyes were forced open and a flash of light shone into them, she caught a glimpse of white hair and pale skin that couldn’t belong to anyone with family ties with her. Her eyes fluttered shut again. Alone. She was alone.

But… that wasn’t true, was it? There was a presence at her side, worried and hovering. Alex’s voice cut through the haze, and it sounded like music. Concentrate. Glamour. “Anything for you, babe,” she murmured, and it came out more slurred than she’d wanted it to be. It was supposed to be smooth. Impressive. But she wasn’t either of those right now, was she?

Her eyes squeezed shut tightly, glamour flickering. It was hard to concentrate through the pain, but Alex asked her to do it so she would. The glamour was visibly unsteady, flickering on and off like a faulty lightbulb. Skin one moment, stone the next. She concentrated hard on her injured shoulder, letting out a low groan. “It hurts,” she whispered. “Is it — Am I doing it?”

—

As Kaden struggled with the decedent (but, fine, ultimately did an acceptable job stowing him away), Regan dedicated herself fully to her new patient as information poured out. Girlfriend. Alex had mentioned dating a fae. The pieces snapped together like dislocated bones popping into place. And a warden did this. Her teeth clenched as her jaw tightened around them. “I am not concerned about you being followed.” Normally she would have chastised the promise, but it was not the time. Nor was it the time to mention involving the authorities. Sure, they could not know what Cass was, but this was an unprovoked attack on a near-child. How could someone get away with such a thing, without an effort even being made to stop them? She thought of Teagan, whose assailant was still out there, as far as anyone knew. It could have been the same individual behind both attacks, but they had distinctly different flavors. Discussion for later.

Alex did an admirable job keeping herself together for Cass’s sake. When this was through, she would tell the child that. For now, though, Regan did not want to distract her – especially when her words of encouragement to her girlfriend seemed to be working to stir the patient. “Shoulder first. That is the most pressing concern.” If Regan was correct. It would be the most painful, too. The other incised wounds surely hurt, but they weren’t as deep or putrid. Alex was succeeding – and for that matter, so was Cass. Mostly. The tough material flickered away, replaced by skin, only to transform itself back again. “Keep it steady,” Regan said, “I can only be as steady as you are.” She left providing any comfort to Alex and dove right in, her hands carefully navigating the margins of the wound now that she could see clearly; they were semi-cauterized but still smoldered, and seemed to be almost expanding. If Regan was capable of paling, she might have.

Seeing the injury seared through Cass’s flesh only confirmed Regan’s suspicions. “This is a cold iron injury. Do you know what that is?” She truly did not know the knowledge base of her audience anymore. “It won’t heal by itself. And I cannot improve it. But I can stop it from getting worse, and permit it to heal on its own, given time.” Her palms stung with their own reminder. She had one cold iron blade, and even Cliodhna did not permit its use under typical circumstances. “Kaden,” she turned to him and was pleased to find her own seriousness reflected back at her. “Here is my ID. Card into my office and go into the bottom right drawer of my desk. There is a jar – small, plastic, red top. Bring it here.”

–

Instructions. Those were good. Kaden could follow those. It was better, even. Otherwise the best he could do was pace and wonder if he was in anyone’s way or distracting Regan. He took the ID card and ran off. Once he was out of the door, he hesitated, trying to remember the direction they came in. It was all a blur since they got there and he’d been carrying Cass, he hadn’t paid attention.

Deep breath. He was pretty sure it was that way and soon enough he was sure once he saw the familiar door to Regan’s office. He fumbled with the card and slammed it against the reader a few different ways, but he didn’t need to put in all the effort, one tap was enough. He nearly pulled the door off its hinges and dove into the office.

Putain, what was it she said? Drawer, something about a drawer. He glanced around and saw a lot of those. Which fucking one? Desk, right, she’d mentioned that, too. Desk drawer. Narrowed it down but not completely. Kaden shut his eyes and tried to repeat the words over in his mind. Bottom drawer. Desk. Red top. That’s what he got. Yanking open the left drawer, all he saw were skulls. That was actually a pretty nice raccoon one but– Right. Task at hand. Better try the drawer on the right before digging around the bones. Sure enough, in the second drawer there was a flash of red. He leaned over and pulled a book out of the way. “How to Flirt Without Sounding like a Serial Killer.” Right. Good luck to her on that one. He set it aside and saw a jar, but reaching for it, it was clear it was just mayonnaise. Which brought some more questions. Either way, next to it was a second jar and there it was, just like she said: red lid, plastic jar. Kaden didn’t know what was in it, all he knew was they needed it and so he grabbed it, sprinting out of the office as fast as he’d gotten there.

“Here,” he said, practically shoving the jar into Regan’s hands. He was out of breath from running but hadn’t noticed until he’d had to speak. Lungs heaving, he backed away and watched. That was all that was left for him to do, wasn’t it? Just watch, hope, and try not to get in the way, wait for any more instructions, but otherwise watch and wonder.

–

Kaden made haste and Regan was left with the two children. Something squirmed inside of her, seeing their pain. Fortunately for all of them, he wasn’t gone long. There it was: the red jar. She accepted it with a nod of approval, and hovered over Cass’s injury as she uncapped it. “This is for… these kinds of injuries. It is likely to work, but I can’t say for certain. It might not be to her specifications, though.” Regan opened the small jar and breathed in the scent of old bone marrow mixed with something floral. It was the last of what she’d brought from Saol Eile. If this happened again, she would need to figure something else out. Somewhere in her cabin was a book with instructions on making more of the salve, and though the ingredient list made a strange kind of sense, it filled her with unease. Still, she did know it worked… on banshees. She had seen it. “I’m going to put this in her wounds. It might sting a little at first, but it will function as an analgesic when it sets in. Most importantly, it will prevent the necrosis of her… flesh.” If it could be called flesh. “Know that there may be other effects. If you have objections, voice them now.”

—

Somewhere in the background, Kaden had returned to her side after getting the descendent where Regan had directed. A distant part of Alex knew that it couldn’t have been an easy task for him, but everything else seemed like a blur as she focused on Cass. It needed to be a blur. If she let her mind drift to the feeling of blood caked to her skin or linger on the fact she was absolutely terrified, there’s no way she’d be able to keep helping. Cass needed her to be strong right now, so she had to be strong. She gently held the oread’s hand and smiled down at her. “You’re doing so good, babe,” she reassured, her voice coming out much more gravelly than she would have liked, “Just keep it up and steady around your shoulder, ok? You got this.”

She stayed close to Cass as Dr. Kavanagh looked over her shoulder. Every so often, Alex offered whispered reassurances to the oread. Her shoulder looked so much worse with the glamour up. It was so easy to see where the iron had seared her skin and how it seemed to be worse than when they’d first left the forest. Given, the lighting now was much clearer and the werewolf knew she should look away. Her stomach practically begged her to, but she couldn’t scare Cass more. It was her turn to be the brave one and she gripped onto Cass’s hand enough to mask the tremor in her own fingers.

Her attention turned to Dr. Kavanagh as she spoke of cold iron. None of it made any sense to Alex. How was cold iron any different from regular iron? She didn’t think werewolves were more sensitive to cold silver. That would have been somewhere in the ranger family playbook. She shook her head. “I know iron hurts her. Most of what I know about fae… she didn’t grow up with other fae. I told her that iron hurts her. Is cold iron worse,” she asked though she was fairly certain she already knew the answer.

It wasn’t something that could heal on its own. Alex wasn’t sure if that made her more angry or afraid. There was some strange haze of both that hung over her as she practically squeaked out, “Please.” Cass was already in terrible shape. She wasn’t sure how much worse the oread could handle before she— She quickly shook her head. She couldn’t think like that. Regan said Cass wouldn’t die here and she wouldn’t. She offered Kaden a quick grateful look as he made off to fetch what Regan needed.

By the sound of his footsteps, Alex could tell he was moving quickly, but time still seemed to move too slowly. Somewhere she could hear a wall clock and the detail seemed deafening, more so than her own heart hammering away so erratically she swore she could feel it in her throat. Kaden was back and she tuned into Dr. Kavanagh’s instructions. It was likely to work and the emphasis on specifications wasn’t lost on Alex. “So it was made with a different type of fae in mind,” she said lowly, not really speaking to anyone so much as thinking aloud. It was a sure deal, but it was their only chance. While medicine was hardly something she knew about, she sure as hell knew enough that necrosis of the flesh was not good. And since it wasn’t made for Cass, she was fairly certain that meant it was hard to know what the other effects would be.

“Use it,” Alex decided quickly as she glanced down the wound that already looked worse, “Whatever the effects are can’t be worse than the pacman of stab wounds over here.” If Cass was listening, she’d appreciate the arcade game reference. Alex smiled weakly as she remembered Cass showing her how to play the game and she knelt back down by Cass. “Hey, rockstar,” she grinned weakly, “You’re doing great. I just need you to hold out a little longer. Dr. Kavanagh is going to put something that’ll help on your wounds, but it might sting first… There may be some side effects, but I got you, ok? I’ll be right here.”

—

She was out of it. It was difficult to follow the conversation, so she stopped trying. Alex would pick up on the important parts and tell her later… if there was a later. The thought rose up without her permission, inky black and heavy. Cass wasn’t a pessimist. Quite the opposite, in fact. She’d been called naive in her optimism, but she clung to it all the same because what was the alternative? The world fucking sucked. If you didn’t hold on to the bright side, you’d lose yourself to the darkness.

But Cass couldn’t find the bright side here. She couldn’t work out the positives of the situation, couldn’t unpack the good. Everything hurt, and she’d never died before but she was pretty sure this was what it felt like. The way her shoulder seemed to be spreading pain to the rest of her, the shivers she couldn’t stop from wracking her frame, the way Alex and Dr. Kavanagh spoke about her like she wasn’t there and the way she might as well have not been there for how well she could listen to them. Alex was saying things to her occasionally, and Cass clung to her voice like a lifeline even if she couldn’t make out the words.

Alex was beside her, then, and Cass tried with everything she had to listen. Her glamour flickered as he concentration shifted, but she understood what Alex was saying. The doctor was going to do something. It was going to hurt. But it would help her, too. She closed her eyes, nodding her head. “Do it,” she agreed. “Do whatever. I don’t — I don’t want to die.” She looked to Dr. Kavanagh as she said it, eyes feeling wet. “I don’t want to die, okay? Do what you need to do, but don’t let me die.”

—

Cass’s informed consent was, Regan thought, as good as it would get. “No questions or concerns, then. We proceed.” There was something almost familiar about Cass’s voice when she spoke, and as the glamour flickered off her face for a moment, Regan recognized her. Oh, that was too strange to even think of right now. She focused instead on the weak, unevenness of Cass’s plea, the mortal fear, and was determined to be the unmoving force she was required to be. Regan’s voice had an edge of authority and certainty. “You’re not going to die here, today.”

She was in the rhythm of urgency now, and Alex and Kaden cleared the way for what needed to be done. Cass was still having trouble with her glamour, but she seemed to be able to muster enough resolve to hold it steady now. Whatever that strange, tough material Cass’s skin truly consisted of, it would have been impossible for Regan to access for application. “Good work.” She offered the rare praise, a reminder to hang on as long as she could. With careful hands, Regan dabbed the cream around the wound. What remained went into the other injuries, just in case those were from the same blade, though they didn’t look so malignant. It would help either way. And then that was it. The last of what she had brought from Saol Eile, exhausted. Traded for Cass. Please let it work.

The wound pulsed with a strange darkness for a moment like the salve had stained it, then sizzled, the searing heat of the iron abating. It still gaped with toothy, jagged edges but now, given the time and proper care, Regan was confident that it would heal. At least until it happened again. These people… this town… it was at times more rotten than anything in her morgue, and she ought to be grateful she would soon be leaving it. Her eyes ticked from Alex to Kaden, who were probably full of complicated emotions right now. Hope. Fear. Confusion. Her own concern gnawed at her but she set it on ice like her cadavers. Regan watched as the wound seemed to soak up the remaining darkness and waited. For what, she did not know.

—

Good work. It was stupid, she knew. The way those two words somehow meant more than the promise that she wouldn’t die here today, the way they sent a thrill of newfound energy surging through her veins that allowed her the concentration she needed to hold that glamour in place. The doctor, the fae doctor said good work, and Cass was eleven years old again, trying with everything she had to win the approval of nymphs who saw her as more of a bother than a person. Back then, she’d never earned anything resembling praise. But now? She was doing good work. Her smile was small and pained and tight, but it was still there. It was still real.

The doctor’s hands were at the injury on her shoulder, the one that burned and ached and felt hot and cold at the same time. She touched it with something cool, and it was like someone had injected darkness into her veins. The effect felt so instantaneous. The room dimmed. The temperature dropped. Cass blinked, and when she dragged her eyes back open, the morgue was full of strangers. A man with his chest hanging open, staples ripped out. A woman with goat’s legs and a darkening bruise around her throat. A teenager with a crown of blood encircling their head, eyes curious and sad. In the middle of them all, partially blocked off by their bodies, stood Rhett. Staring down at her with an expression of mild curiosity, like she was an animal in the zoo. The scratches Alex’s claws had left in his face were there, blood dry now.

Were these ghosts, she wondered? A sea of the dead, beckoning for Cass to join them? Her eyes darted to Alex and Kaden and the doctor. There was a wound in Kaden’s side, freely bleeding. His shirt was so covered in blood that the fabric was hard to make out beneath it — had he been wearing red flannel, or did it just look that way now? Alex’s hair was the wrong shade of red, shining dully in the overhead lights of the morgue. It was wet. Not water. It wasn’t water soaking her head. The doctor was in black and white (was that why she looked familiar?), but there were spots of red slowly staining through, swirls of color that didn’t belong. Cass’s breath hitched, eyes darting between them all until something behind them caught her attention.

Kuma stood a few feet from Rhett, arms crossed over her chest. Debbie was beside her, the injuries that led to her death prevalent and obvious in the morgue. They both looked rotted. Everything ached.

And then, Cass blinked again, and it was all gone. It was just as it had been before. There was no blood in Alex’s hair. Kaden’s shirt was clean. The doctor wasn’t exactly colorful, still, white coat and all, but there was no red to be seen. And her shoulder didn’t burn, and she didn’t feel quite as cold, but the exhaustion that clung to her was hard to fight.

“Thank you,” she whispered to the doctor, squeezing her eyes shut. When she opened them again, they darted around for a moment before meeting Alex’s. Clear and blue and alive, like they were supposed to be. She offered the werewolf a small smile and let her consciousness flee. Safe. She was safe now.

—

Desperation had a way of making time seem slower. Alex knew the clock ticked at the same rhythm somewhere off in the distance, but it felt distorted as she gave the doctor room to take care of Cass’s wounds. It wasn’t the first time that Regan assured the oread wouldn’t die here. Fae couldn’t lie. Cass had told her that. Sure, the truth was subjective, but Dr. Kavanagh was a bone nymph. If she said Cass wasn’t going to die here that had to be the truth. At least, it alleviated some of her own fear so she could be the steady presence her girlfriend needed. Not that she would consider herself steady. The only thing that felt steady was the gaze she kept trained on Cass. Even blinking felt like a gamble that she only took when her eyes felt like they were burning.

The salve seemed to create a cloud of darkness around it and Alex found herself having to cover her mouth and nose as the wound seared. It was strange. The autopsy suite didn’t smell like burning. The bite of medical grade cleaners was the predominant scent in the air, but underneath she could smell him. His blood still coated her body and she didn’t dare look down to find it drying on her skin. Just focus on Cass.

It seemed like the remedy Dr. Kavanagh had given her was working though Alex couldn’t explain how. There had to be some supernatural fae aspect to it. She could hear the rapid pounding of Cass’s heart, but it was hard to discern anything wrong besides the obvious. Her eyes were darting around the morgue and the werewolf wasn’t sure what she was seeing. She could only hope it wasn’t anything too bad, but if it meant Cass would live, she guessed whatever it was had to be worth it.

After what felt like an eternity, Cass thanked the doctor and locked eyes with Alex. It was the briefest glance before she watched the oread fully slump onto the table. The breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding came out as a small gasp and she felt everything she’d been compartmentalizing threatening to spill over with it. She took in a slow breath before looking up to Regan. “Dr. Kavanagh,” she started hesitantly. She wasn’t sure where to begin or what to say. All she could think was to express her gratitude, even if Regan would tell her it was foolish. “Thank you,” she said finally, “Really. You saved her. I–”

The words ‘almost lost her’ found themselves trapped in her throat and came out as a strangled sound. It was a floodgate that Alex couldn’t allow herself to open just yet so she shook her head. “I just appreciate it and I’m glad you’re still here.” Aside from the fact Cass would have likely literally died in her arms, she did like Regan. “Anything I need to do for her as far as healing and taking care of her goes, I’m all ears.”

—

There wasn’t anything left for Kaden to do to help Cass. He was just as helpless as she was to fix her at that moment. He stood back and tried not to be in the way. Alex was there to comfort her girlfriend, Regan was there to heal her, and as much as he wanted to peer over her shoulder and see what was going on, check if it was working, he knew better. Hovering could only make it worse if anything at all.

Now that his part was done, his mind drifted to the cause of her wounds, the blood covering Alex’s clothes. A warden. Another hunter. Kaden had to wonder if it was someone he knew. His stomach dropped as the face of the hunter dying at Andy’s hand flashed into his memory. Would he see that same look all over again? Would it be at his hands this time? Or Alex’s? Had she already killed him? He didn’t know. He didn’t want this to keep happening. Death. Over and over again. A snake eating its tail. And Kaden didn’t know how to stop it when all he knew how to do was how to slice it in half.

The gasp from the fae on the table pulled his focus back to the present. His own breath stopped as he waited to see what would happen next – would she pull through or would she pass out again? He reached out and put a hand on Alex’s shoulder, hoping to give some comfort to her while she was giving all hers away to Cass.

The words ‘thank you’ felt like a sigh of relief, a sign that the course had corrected itself. For now. “Good work,” he said to Regan. “See, way better than a hospital.” He had no idea what it was she did, but he knew it worked. That was enough for him. But now that they were in the clear, thoughts of the hunter and the potentially dead body in the woods lingered. Putain. His eyes darted to Alex, then back to the medical examiner. He opened his mouth to speak. “I, uh, when you have a second I need to talk to–” He knew what he should do, he should report the potential dead body. Alex wouldn’t be implicated. She couldn’t. Right? It’s not like she was human when she did it. Actually, he didn’t know. He just assumed.

He owed it to the hunter to say something, owed it to his family, but he owed Alex more. He couldn’t risk it. “Nevermind,” he said, waving it off. “Thanks again. Hopefully you won’t see me here again anytime soon.” He glanced back to Alex and gave her a nod. “Come on, let’s get her back home so she can rest.”

—

Something was happening to Cass – her eyes went wide and scanned the room as if she was looking for something or seeing something, and Regan watched in silence for a moment. Whatever it was seemed to pass, but that didn’t mean it was the last of it. She glanced down to the empty jar, the remnants of the cream clinging to the neck of it. Do not let it be a mistake. The child was increasingly lucid, though, which had to be a good sign. Her other injuries were minor in comparison, and Regan bandaged them up, confident they needed no further attention from her. Cass was certainly benefiting from the diligent attention of her girlfriend, though. Probably an ill-advised relationship, if Cass’s lifespan was anything like that of a banshee’s. But happiness was a rare and often hard-won thing, and she would not spoil theirs, however useless she felt the emotion to be. Yes. Useless. Of course it was. She suppressed the trickle of doubt.

As Cass roused herself up and the two of them thanked her, Regan shook her head. Their gratitude was less than ideal – or at least the language used to express it, was. She let the thank yous linger, not accepting them nor chastising right now. “It’s not over yet. You have a lot of healing to do, and there may be lingering effects from the wound and what I applied to it. Monitor it closely and come to me if anything unexpected occurs.” Her voice lowered, something soft squirming through her that she barely recognized and did not particularly like. “I didn’t save her. I think you did that. Or perhaps she saved herself.”

And then there was Kaden. “I do not need your ‘good job’.” She narrowed her eyes at him. Demeaning. And what followed pulled at her temper, however much she tried to deny it. “Or your jokes. You come here instead of the hospital and you tell me good job.” Regan wrinkled her nose at him, but Cass was too much a priority for her aggravation at the remark to persist. Did Kaden have something to tell her? Or was he trying to tell something to Alex or Cass? She wasn’t going to figure it out now, apparently, as he seemed to cut himself off. Later, then. Maybe he was trying to tell her there was something to discuss later. She turned to address all three of them. “Not that you chose poorly, in this very specific instance. But we are not done here. Today, right now, we are, because… well, she is asleep.” Regan motioned toward Cass, whose eyes were shut and who looked entirely like a rock again. “But we will need to discuss this attempted murder. I don’t need another victim in here.”

—

Adrenaline was a funny thing. In the absence of an immediate threat and the knowledge Cass would be okay, the rush that had been pushing her forward had melted into lead. Or maybe peridotite would be more accurate. The metaphorical density of her bones was hardly the point, but Alex knew they felt heavy. So did the blood and flakes of rock on her skin. And her chest. She wasn’t sure if it was the firm kick from Rhett or the weight of what had just happened catching up to her somehow, but now it was sinking.

Then the hand on her shoulder reminded Alex she didn’t have to carry this alone. Even as Kaden spoke again, there was something decisive in his tone. He knew as well as she did that Regan would have questions. She didn’t mind that so much. Even if Regan seemed to follow the letter of the law, she knew about this stuff. She was part of this stuff. She’d seen firsthand what Rhett had done to Cass. Even if the medical examiner did insist on going the official route, she doubted claw marks could truly be traced back to her. Plus, she was pretty sure some logic or law of self defense was on her side. There was a chance she killed him, but he’d been the one to lift the knife. She’s given him every chance. Her gaze drifted to her sleeping girlfriend and she couldn’t help but think maybe she’d given him too many chances.

That thought hurt to linger on so Alex instead aptly listened to the doctor’s instructions. She’d need to monitor Cass closely. She could do that. Hell, she wasn’t sure it’d be so much a choice on her part. As tired as she was, she didn’t think she’d find sleep in the coming hours. She’d nodded diligently and had been prepared to accept the instructions as they were, but then there was something there again. It was the tiniest glimpse of something less cold in her eyes. It was brief and if the doctor’s words hadn’t matched that slight etch of something warmer in her features, she would have doubted she saw it all. “Oh,” she uttered with wide eyes. She hadn’t expected that. Dr. Kavanagh had called her a good child once, but this held something more. She saved someone. She saved Cass. She wasn’t too soft. She was soft and she’d protected those parts of herself by protecting the person who brought them out the most. And Cass saved herself too. She was proud of her for pushing through that pain so Dr. Kavanagh could treat her wounds even if the oread never should have experienced that pain in the first place.

If the creeping exhaustion hadn’t fully made itself at home in her body, Alex would have nudged her cousin. It wasn’t lost on her that jokes in the face of traumatic incidents was a shared family trait. Pointing it now wouldn’t hold the same satisfaction, especially not when there was something so comfortable in it for her. Dr. Kavanagh didn’t seem to appreciate it though. That wasn’t entirely surprising and if she wasn’t so tired, she’d feel bad that Kaden seemed to be taking the brunt of her frustration when all he did was drive the car. “We’ll get her home,” she assured, “Once she’s settled, I’ll answer anything you want to know. He won’t do this again.”

Alex didn’t know if he was dead, but some part of her knew he probably should be. That spark of hatred in his eyes was too familiar. She knew the only thing that put it out was blood. Or at least, if there had been some other answer, she wasn’t privy to it. If love had been enough, she had to think it would have made a difference with her parents. It didn’t matter anyway. She gave Cass’s hand one final squeeze before she moved aside to let Kaden pick her back up so they could go home. “You’re gonna be okay,” she whispered to the oread she knew couldn’t hear her, “I got you. We got you.”

Because even if she couldn’t hear it, Alex still felt it was important to remind Cass she wasn’t alone in the world. Not anymore.

#wr cass #wr kaden #wr regan #threads; with cass #threads; with kaden #threads; with regan #threads; with cass; emorguency room #threads; with kaden; emorguency room #threads; with regan; emorguency room #(never been a natural all i do is try try try) ;; writing #(the moonlight is blinding) ;; season 1 writing

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canis-or-cannotis-lycaon · 9 months

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"Close Your Eyes." || Gael, Regan

TIMING: August 4th LOCATION: The morgue PARTIES: Regan (@kadavernagh and Gael (@lithium-argon-wo-l-f SUMMARY: Gael, back from his “camping” trip, keeps his word and brings an animal carcass to Regan, hoping for some insight on what exactly happens when he sleepwalks. CONTENT WARNINGS: Unsanitary

All things considered, though Gael was still in immense pain after that third night, the camping trip with Alan really did wonders. Granted, he still didn’t remember what had happened but there was this sense of… calm that had been present up until that selection of nights. In the twisting and stretching of his body, falling unconscious as pulses of agony were pumped through him, overwhelming him into dormancy, he woke up the next day still naked and covered in blood but most importantly, he wasn’t alone, not that time as Alan wasn’t too far away in the same conditions. He didn’t want to talk about it still, preferring to ask how the other man was doing and just to be able to complain about how sore he was for the first time ever since the brain injury. Most importantly, Gael felt… normal. Or at least as normal as he could’ve been given their shared condition. Setting aside the conversations he had with Kaden, Emilio and Leticia, when he thought only about the things he’d talked about with Alan and Alex, he didn’t feel so much like a stranger lost in a world that suddenly wasn’t for him. That wasn’t the reality of it, of course - they were in the minority and the onus was on them to change to adapt to the society that didn’t know any better at best - but as he went down to one of the smaller brooks that snaked around the woods with Alan, rinsing the blood off his aching limbs, his fresh scar, smelling the familiarity from his friend, he’d never been so sure that he would be able to manage this neurological disorder, after all. It was the smoothest time he’d had since the accident, certainly better than whatever happened in July and he almost all but forgot about the shadowed figure that ruptured at the side that haunted him on occasion, out of the corner of his eye, invading his dreams. Today, Gael was just outside the Morgue that Regan worked at, a box with an unpleasant odor emanating from it and though he was very aware of how he looked and moved, he felt considerably better on the inside. He gave a polite nod as he entered the building and the secretary buzzed for Dr. Kavanagh, stating that there was a “man with a bad-smelling box” wanting to see her. —

Oh, good. According to Marcy, her animal carcass was here. And probably Gael along with it. Regan’s stomach clenched at the thought – despite no harm coming from it yet, she wasn’t sure how wise it was that she’d told Gael everything she had. It seemed beyond believability, but then again, so many here believed in witches and magic and things far more absurd than being able to sense death. And Gael wouldn’t be here if he didn’t think there could be at least some truth to what she’d said. Did that make it more dangerous or less dangerous that she’d told him? Cliodhna’s voice, usually echoing through her calvarium, was unusually silent on the matter. Regan wasn’t sure her grandmother would have tolerated the insult either. Of course the denial of the femur, her birthright, would provoke such honesty.

And wouldn’t it feel… good? To be doing something good? Wasn’t that the whole point of being here? She didn’t regret offering to help.

Regan pushed through the doors of the lobby and nodded a greeting and thank you to Marcy, who still gawked at the winter coat. But her attention was on Gael. He looked… so unlike how he’d appeared at the museum, even when they were under duress. He had been full of life, then. And while he still had the same stubborn resilience practically shooting off him, he looked far worse, like he’d spent the entirety of the previous night, maybe week, sleepwalking. And as she felt the pull of death coursing from the box in his arms, she wondered if maybe she was spot on. “It looks like it may have been a long night for you, Gael.” She was at least heartened that he’d seen a doctor about all of this, which was more than most in town could say for their pathologies. “What do you have for me?” She had her eyes glued to the box. Her skin fizzled. “Follow me to my office. We work in there.” With a quick glance at Marcy to see if she was being studied, Regan carded herself back through the doors and led Gael down into the belly of the morgue. “Have you thought about what I’ve said? About people not always being prepared for the answers they think they want to receive?” ---

Gael wasn’t sure when the last time he’d been in a morgue was but the smell seemed stronger this time; clinical, eerie, like he inherently felt unwelcome in the space even though there weren’t too many people there to make that judgment call, not to mention Regan was the one who made the suggestion. He made pleasant enough small talk with the receptionist - Marcy, he learned - as he waited for the medical examiner to collect him. When she came through the door and the professor turned to regard her, however, he couldn’t keep his expression from shifting into one of mild surprise; he was expecting her to be dressed similarly to that day in the museum, just with the addition of a coat but by ‘coat’ he thought ‘a lab technician’s coat’ and not a winter coat that looked… warm, for starters and too bulky to be truly convenient otherwise.

However, Gael wasn’t here to judge and he recovered quickly enough, flashing her an easy smile that reached the corners of his sunken eyes. He knew how he looked. He wasn’t sure how to fix it anymore and apparently feeling good or bad, the ache that thudded through his bones, the threat of sleep that wanted to pull him under again though nowadays he found himself terrified of doing that. He just regretted that it seemed so obvious the week after. But he was infinitely more determined to find answers than receiving looks of sympathy, words of observation. He wasn’t sure which category Regan fit into.

But for now, he opened his mouth as if to respond to her question when she opted to take him to the back office instead and Gael caught the look Regan gave to Marcy; quick, narrow. None of his business. Maybe Marcy was a proponent of encouraging the doctor to get out of the morgue more. Nonetheless, the man followed behind the shorter woman, still holding the box carefully and absently shaking one of his legs as he walked, trying to get the twinge of pain from his shin out of his step. “I have.” He said earnestly after a small pause.

And he had. Was it a risk? Sure, but Gael was never averse to taking risks. He was a strong believer in many things - science, religion, and most of all, people. He trusted Regan; she wouldn’t lie to him and he trusted that she would be forward with what she could find in the mangled remains of the animal that he gathered the pieces of that morning… it was still mostly intact. “If I can’t anticipate any form of answer, I shouldn’t ask the question to begin with.” ---

“It’s easy to say that. It’s easy to say anything.” Regan left Gael to consider that as she held open the door to her office. She guided him past the bone-stuffed shelves and flesh-eating beetles and nodded toward her desk. “You can place it there and have a seat. I’m sure you won’t be surprised that I have some questions for you. First, where and when did you find these remains?” Her eyes drifted over to his disheveled hair and sagging eyes. She chose to regard his physical state with silence for a moment. “And is there anything else I should know?”

“Let’s see what you’ve brought.” Regan stretched her gloves over her hands and tenderly opened the box. She had been itching to do that this whole time, and it was worth the wait. She beamed down at the raccoon with large eyes, her heart quickening with each hair she combed through. There was a mat of blood underneath it, and one of its legs was missing, but it was otherwise a fine specimen. She could tell from some flakes of ice in its fur, its stiffness, and its temperature that it was just starting to defrost from wherever Gael had been keeping it. “This is very nice,” she remarked, too engrossed in the raccoon to look up at Gael as she spoke. She peeled back the raccoon’s grimacing jowls and examined the teeth; white but with noticeable tartar. “I didn’t forget why you came here. But there’s much to learn from a physical examination, too. Sometimes more.” Slowly, she turned the raccoon over on its side, and noted what was impossible to miss: that its entire flank was a great, raw pit surrounded by impressive bite marks. Something had taken a huge bite out of the animal. Its intestines spilled out and the stench of bile mixed with feces filled the room. She took a deep breath.

Now, she looked at Gael, her eyebrow raised. “It did not survive this injury. It’s fresh, no scarring. Do you have a dog?” Her eyes were pulled back down to the marks, and she traced her finger over one of the deeper tooth-shaped cavities. “A big one.” ---

Of course it was easy to say anything. Gael meant what he said, though; he normally functioned under the rule ‘say what you mean’. He wasn’t about to say ‘yes’ to placate her and he’d already had the conversation with a couple of other people, her included, where he had the humility to say that he didn’t think he was ready to comprehend certain concepts that were brought to his attention. He’d have to hope that she would still give him those answers even if he actually didn’t want them. Once they were in her office (a strange place, he thought, considering perhaps an examination room would’ve been more appropriate), Gael made his way over to the chair she told him to sit in once he placed the box on the cold, impersonal surface of the desk. “I found it this morning, in the forest… close to where I woke up.” He explained with a grunt as he sat down, thankful for the back support as he placed a hand against the gnarled scar tissue that twisted itself along his spine. He exhaled, locking eyes with her for a moment and letting another pause settle between them. His mind wasn’t reeling but he couldn’t keep a knot from forming in his throat, filling him with nausea at the thought that he wanted to tell her yet didn’t. “Its blood was on my hands. I had some of its fur under my fingernails.” Gael couldn’t bring himself to tell her that it wasn’t just under his fingernails. It was between his teeth and the blood was also on his nose, his chin, his neck down to his chest. How he’d retched pieces of it that morning as he cleaned himself up at the river. It wasn’t him. It wasn’t him. … Maybe it really wasn’t him and as he held up a hand instinctively, the smell eventually overwhelming his annoyingly sensitive senses, Gael met her gaze again and shook his head. “No. I don’t have a dog.” He remarked. “I have a few-months-old kitten but no dog.” He nodded to the carcass and while he’d since heard her own accelerating heartbeat, no doubt an effect of her strange enthusiasm over her connection with death. “That’s what killed it? A dog?” He asked. ---

“I don’t know what killed it yet. But I know some kind of large carnivore did this, and you having a dog on your property would have offered a decent explanation.” Of course, few things were ever that easy, that neat. “The blood under your nails, though…” It was strange, to say the least. Bite mark analysis wasn’t the most reliable, but this clearly was not done by a human. Regan turned the raccoon again, spotting more raw wounds, these ones sprinkled with blow fly eggs and arranged in large gashes. She ran her fingers over the marks, even poked a finger inside to see how deep it went. They looked like they were left by massive claws.

The answers would come from another source, then. Gael could tell her little of value, and that wasn’t his fault.

“Okay.” Regan announced, standing up straight, her attention snapping from the raccoon to Gael. “You’re sure about this?” She asked, though she already knew the answer. “I have conditions. One condition, really: you can’t look. Ask what you want, but do not look. Do you find that agreeable?” She had never done this with anyone else around before, anyone who wasn’t like her, but she could venture a guess as to how it would be received. “You don’t need to do anything. Only sit and wait.” ---

Perhaps Gael was a little too enthusiastic… or desperate for an answer that pointed away from him. Of course there was no way to tell what it was for certain, at least further than a ‘large dog’. The one with Ren wouldn’t have done this and he didn’t remember any large dogs whenever he woke up. Maybe, just maybe, she wasn’t as proficient at her job as either of them thought she was and she was mistaken…? No, no that wasn’t it either. However, when the medical examiner said ‘okay’, Gael also snapped to attention, straightening up and lowering his hand to place on his lap with a concealed grimace at both the sudden movement pulsing through his body and the smell of rot and body fluids. Granted, he still didn’t know quite what she was talking about just now but her one clear, simple instruction floated through his tired mind. He can’t look. Gael obviously didn’t know what that meant and part of him hesitated for a moment. Was this the part where she waited until he wasn’t looking before provoking him into something? Was she going to bite him and taste something synthesized in his blood? …Were there species who could do that? Why was he assuming she wasn’t human? Nevertheless, he gave her a look and nodded with a certain resolution. “I…” Risky. She told him not to promise. “I won’t look.” In an effort to prove it, Gael stood from his chair slowly and turned it so that it faced the wall where he himself turned around on the spot before sitting down again. He didn’t know what was going to happen, if anything happened at all, but he leaned forward and held his head in his hands as his elbows propped it up on his knees. “Okay, do what you’re going to do.” ---

He said he wouldn’t look, but could she trust him? She had so far, with the scant crumbs she’d been willing to give him. But this was different. Everything she’d told him might sound merely fantastical or delusional to the wrong person. If he saw this, though, things would be harder to wave away. And Regan liked the cushion of Gael questioning his sanity, as much it pained him. “Thank you,” she said cautiously, in a tip-toe of a voice, testing to see if he had any second thoughts about that. With one final look at Gael, whose head was turned away and his eyes closed, she was satisfied that he would keep his word.

Regan took in another lungful of bile and blood, and devoted her full attention to the raccoon. She held the cloying stench inside of her and allowed her vision to relax into asfís bháis. Even if Gael decided he wasn’t ready to face what she saw, she needed to be ready.

The walls of her office fell away, shelves becoming trees, the raccoon pumped full of vigorous life. Regan’s hand sifted through the animal’s coat, and as more came into focus, she could see further. The detail greater. But her attention was in the wrong place. A chill rolled between her vertebrae, the sensation of being watched spreading through her. Was Gael looking, despite what she’d asked of him? She couldn’t tell. Because where Gael sat, there was now a dark shadow, long-limbed with piercing orange eyes. Before Regan could study it, it leaped. The raccoon’s whiskers twitched and its eyes shined with fast-blooming, primal fear. It scrambled on its small hands, shooting toward a tree, but the shadow was faster, hungrier. Blood sprayed across the ground, the whites of the creature’s teeth, and Regan could see it for what it was now: a ravenous canid with a murky coat and only predatory instinct in its eyes. The teeth gnashed. More blood shot in every direction. And as the animal’s gaze seemed to see right into hers, the woods faded, the blood becoming carpet and the raccoon a stiff lump under her hands.

She still saw those eyes. They stuck to her own, even when she closed them. When Regan took another long breath, just as she’d been taught, she realized how tense every muscle in her body felt. Disgusting. She kicked her legs, loosening them. Adrenaline had no place here.

“You can look.” Regan shook her head, trying to clear it of the vivid image, that amber, and let the room fully set back in. She glanced down at the raccoon with reverence, a silent thank you for allowing her the information she now had.

“Gael, this is going to sound strange.” She braced him, though he probably didn’t need it. What about this wasn’t strange? She sat down and pushed her chair a little closer to his, if only to force her body to move. She learned forward and steepled her hands, considering how to best address this. It would be good news, wouldn’t it? “You did not kill this animal. I suspect you haven’t killed any of the ones you’ve been finding. I didn’t see you. What I saw was a…” And there was the tricky part. What was it, exactly? “It looked like a wolf, but… odd. Gangly and large. I mostly saw its teeth. We don’t have wolves here.” Regan sighed, equally vexed by this as she would be seeing Gael responsible. “It was likely a strange coyote or dog. It was not you. So I don’t know why you find blood under your fingernails or why dead animals keep turning up, but you should be absolved of blame.” ---

And so Gael’s eyes were closed but he was unintentionally on edge, fully anticipating for something to be done to him while his back was turned and he was two senses down in terms of expecting something, though his hearing was still fully capable. …Nothing happened. He wasn’t sure how long he was there, even managing to relax after a brief while but as far as he could tell, Gael was sitting in the office of an eccentric medical examiner, facing away from her with his hands over his eyes and his eyes closed as she obsessed over a raccoon carcass for an indeterminate amount of time. However… as he sat there, feeling the hairs on the back of his neck instinctively standing as he anticipated being attacked while his back was turned, he also heard something. The conversation and test he had with Alex sat on his mind with greater frequency nowadays and while before it was just something he happened to pick up on on occasion, his head tilted very slightly as he could’ve sworn he heard her abnormally-low heart rate increase, if only for a moment.

True to his word, Gael didn’t open his eyes or remove his hands from them until she instructed him to do so. And when he did, he sucked air in through his nose as the lights seemed way brighter than they were before. Obviously they weren’t but maybe he pressed his hands into his eye sockets a little too ambitiously. Maybe as he closed his eyes, putting the heels of his hands over them, he was actually trying to blot out the things that he saw in the dark. He stood up and rotated the chair again, casting a bleary-eyed gaze to the carcass for just a moment before he looked away and opted to focus on Regan instead. And then… the news. Gael held his breath, his eyes widening slightly with the anticipation of what she managed to learn while they sat in the complete silence of the office. He didn’t question it, he wouldn’t right then - he figured it was part of her “death sight” that she talked about and for all he knew, she communicated with the corpse telepathically. He didn’t know what to think anymore. It… wasn’t him. It never was. The mantra that Gael repeated in his head for hours sometimes, slipping in and out of consciousness in the pitch black nights and dreary, misty mornings, the mantra that he repeated so many times in his head back then that the idea was successfully pushed out of his mind only for it to be dragged kicking and screaming back over the past couple of months. It wasn’t just a mantra repeated in his head anymore. She was supernatural. He was not. It was a werewolf. It had to have been. And Gael wasn’t a werewolf. The professor couldn’t keep himself from coughing out the breath he held as though he just received an announcement that he won the lottery. A dopey grin crossed Gael’s sunken features as he looked down at the raccoon with a newfound admiration, looking at it like it was made of gold and he had struck it. The look danced from the raccoon to Regan, unable to contain the excitement and relief that washed over him. “It wasn’t me.” He repeated, with a new connotation in his tone. “It wasn’t me!” He wanted to stand up, kiss the raccoon on its rotting head, dance out of the office and shove both his middle fingers into Kaden and Emilio’s faces as if to say “I TOLD you so!” but he did none of those things, instead clenching a trembling, burned hand in the other as he exhaled with that same overwhelming sense of relief. “Was it… the death sight? Was that what you did when I was turned around?” He asked, a new spark of life in his sleep-deprived eyes as he looked earnestly at Regan. ---

Gael was positively dripping with relief. His voice bounced and his entire face brightened. He almost looked like a completely different person, shed of the exhaustion that had cloaked him before. Regan had the opposite reaction, shrinking back as though Gael was an explosive that had just been set off, like she could catch feelings from his shrapnel. Something inside of her loosened, though. She had never helped the living in this way before, never even told anyone outright that she was capable of it, and it felt… satisfying. Not good, not pleasant. She was beyond such things. But it had the same sense of fulfillment that also came with signing off on a complicated autopsy report after 6 hours of meticulously scavenging for answers.

The energy in the room seemed to die down – even if not as dead as she preferred – and she squirmed a little, regarding his exuberance with subtle distaste. The worst of it seemed to be past. Regan stepped closer to Gael and the chair, still wary. “That’s what you came here for. Yes.” She crossed her arms, looking back over at the raccoon. That such a carcass could bring joy to someone else did thaw her heart a little bit. A bit. “This seems like it was quite the positive revelation for you.” And she didn’t want to divert the wind from his sails, but… “You’re satisfied with that? With this? Validation from someone who claims to understand dead raccoons, even though it leaves other questions unanswered?” She gestured down to his tattered hands. “Like the blood under your nails, or what you do when you’re asleep.” ---

Gael glanced up at the medical examiner, her questions managing to poke through his veil of positivity. ‘You’re satisfied with that?’ He thought on it as she continued, motioning to the hands Gael had witnessed become matted with a thick layer of hair, extending his nails, making his arms and fingers unrecognizable in the darkness even with the anomaly of his highly-attuned eyesight. He thought on the blood under those nails, the sleepwalking, waking up covered in the stuff. He thought about what Alex had said about how she and Alan and other sleepwalkers were werewolves and that there was no other explanation for it. Not a brain injury, not a neurological disorder, not a parasite. There was no cure, no fix, nothing but the dreaded resignation he talked to Regan about before. “...I am.” Gael replied after a lengthy pause and a nod of affirmation. He inhaled deeply, the stench of the raccoon’s carcass filling his nose literally but it was accompanied by the confidence that he could go forward with this information. Everyone else was wrong. Everyone who talked down to him, danced around and suggested that it was something like ‘he’s a werewolf’ were wrong, simple as that. He had tried to consider that thought and it felt wrong, like a puzzle piece being forced into the incorrect spot. The thought pained him if he thought about it long enough and when he wasn’t confronted with that as a question, it was literally out of his mind, easily slipping back into the thought that he was just a sleepwalker with vivid, sleep-deprived hallucinations and a proclivity for violence. He nodded again. “I trust you.” At this rate, he would’ve believed the priest who said that he was possessed by a demon. This was the closest Gael had gotten since he moved to the validation he wanted, that he was just a guy. He didn’t care if he had werewolf friends, or fae friends, or friends that could turn into jaguars. He really didn’t; everyone had their process and even if he didn’t believe in them, he believed in his friends’ beliefs. Okay so Alan was a werewolf; HE was the one who killed the beavers. Gael had no idea what he’d done to deserve NOT being turned by a werewolf but that sounded like ‘Sleepwalking Gael’s’ problem, not his. “I… I literally can’t imagine what else it could be.” He added after another pause, some of the vivacity leaving his body language though he was still considerably lighter than before. “But I’ll answer one question at a time and that was the biggest one.” Gael started to get to his feet again, his body still thumping with aches and his back definitely popped in a couple of places but he almost didn’t feel them. “I don’t know what else it could be.” He repeated. “...Are you not satisfied with that?” He decided to ask.

Gael’s eyes were swimming with thoughts, and Regan could only imagine how rapidly his neurons were firing, the relief trickling down to his bones. There were few things heavier than telling someone of their impending death. Today, though, it felt like she had done the opposite: offer renewal. This had clearly been tormenting Gael’s thoughts, night and day, and to be able to lift some of that burden was meaningful, even if she had to tolerate this display of emotion. At least he had the sense not to galavant around the room, a stupid grin from ear to ear. Regan shuddered at the thought.

She hadn’t been expecting to have her own question fired back at her. The answer did not arrive when she tried to summon it. “I don’t know,” Regan replied honestly, shooting a glance down at the floor. “I like a thorough explanation, an autopsy report tied up neatly in a bow. But the world doesn’t always work like that.” Her eyes narrowed at his proclamation of trust. “And I still think that’s foolish. You’re too trusting. It will destroy you.” She shook her head, knowing there was no talking Gael out of his own nature. He thought her inflexible and unchanging, and perhaps she was, but he was stubborn, too.

Regan found herself drifting back toward her desk, hand absentmindedly running through the raccoon’s bloodied coat. “Anyway, I’m… glad I could help you.” Glad. That was a word she scarcely used. It felt stilted on her lips. How natural it would have been coming from Gael’s. There was something else though, an admission, unprompted, that the moment was calling for as adamantly as the raccoon had beckoned her from her desk. She hesitated but gave in to it. “I’ve only done this for the dead. Sought answers for them in this way, I mean. And their next of kin, of course, but they don’t know. No matter how implausible the information I come back with in the process of an autopsy, they don’t question how I came about it.” Regan rolled her eyes. “Well, the court would, sometimes, but not everything makes it into the report.” She looked at Gael earnestly for a moment, before her features tightened in realization and she brushed everything away. “Anyway, you should bring me more dead animals.” ---

She tried to hide her expressions behind the words she said but brief as they were, Gael noticed them: the hesitation when he returned her question to her, the way she looked down momentarily as thoughts came before the answer, her reluctance to admit that sometimes the world didn’t give you all the answers you wanted at once. That was how he worked - he was similar to her in that he craved answers, explanations, reasons for why and how things worked. But he’d reached a point in his life that he realized that that wasn’t how it worked. If he received one explanation, especially one that he was willing to forgive in the efforts of returning some of his life back to normal, so that he had someone to back him up when he said ‘you’re wrong’, then asking for more answers and not being satisfied with what he was given would just drive him further up a wall.

She said his trust would destroy him but at this juncture, Gael wasn’t sure that was accurate. The thoughts, the bombardments of what he was, taking that control and choice away from him, that was destroying him. It was keeping him up more than the regular sleepwalking did before this whole mess. The words everyone else said, boring into his skull, nosing into his business, telling him what was best for him while he watched how they talked to other people, that was destroying him. And who knew, maybe this trust in Regan’s assessment, this desperate clinging to something that he could relate to and use, would destroy him down the line.

But it wouldn’t destroy him now.

And now was how Gael knew to live.

Regan said that she was… glad she could help. Gael’s eyebrow quirked slightly, silently acknowledging that perhaps she didn’t say that often, if at all. And as she explained a little more about what she used her gift for, the pieces seemed to click for him when it came to her. She knew what she could do and she embraced it. She didn’t say she was glad she could help often, but he wondered if she did, it was just nonverbally as she lovingly caressed the corpse of a person who somehow could tell her how they died. He was curious about this still, and he had questions for the process of course, but she had already been so helpful to him and he caught that earnest expression on her face before she laced herself back up.

Gael was savvy. He knew when someone’s social limit was drawing to a close. So, with that and what felt like a great weight lifted from his mind, the professor offered the medical examiner a small, but respectful bow of his head accompanied with a gentle, but enthusiastic grin. “I appreciate it, Dr. Kavanagh. I’ll be sure to. I’ll text you and leave them with Marcy.”

No thank-yous, no exaggerated praise or unwarranted compliments. She was a person of business and Gael felt like he’d received more than one thing that day as his mind repeated everything she said, especially the part where she said she was glad.

#wickedswriting #writing: Close Your Eyes #writing with: Regan #unsanitary tw

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