Raise and Check, Under the Gun

Agony. Rage. Heartache. Fear. Every aspect of these feelings have her senses alight, her blood fueled by fire and the instinct to run starting to fight against her need to stay. Her hands tremble in the ginger grasp of a dying survivor – a soon-to-be monster. Does she jerk away and get the hell outta Dodge, or does she remain and say her goodbyes? The decision forces her mind into an all out war, her knees beginning to move from under her, her hands remaining unmoved and ironclad within the claws of the pained survivor.

Within her head, away from the burning bridge of the choice to survive, Ares marvels at Nick’s gentleness; only once before had he truly been so careful with her. She remembered it so clearly, so warmly, her face and chest burning with the recollection. She takes her gaze from their intertwined hands to his face, eyes filled with love and sorrow. His cries echoed in her chest, stabbing through her very core with equal hurt. What could she say or do to help him? What more was there for them outside of this room, this moment? She felt she could die here, happy and content with her story’s end. As long as she had him, death wouldn’t be so bad.

Now, the moment of choice. Her next move could end this whole thing.

I can’t go. I can’t just keep running away from this. I won’t run away from him.

Gently, with her resolve completely solidified and her primal urge to abandon him smothered, the flame of her ending burning bright, she squeezed Nick’s hand and sat flat on the floor, legs resting to the side.

“Y'know, it’s strange. When we met, I thought that we’d end up dead on the side of the road, mutually havin’ bit the bullet. I never thought we’d end up dead together like this – loved, hurtin’ from the knowledge. It was unexpected. I really wish we could’ve fixed us, left this whole damn apocalypse behind and start over. Start a family. I wanted that so badly, it burned. I want that still. I want us to live. And I know it’s hopeless, wantin’ that life, but damn it, I do. I.. I wish I could die with you. Because once you go, I might as well be dead too. Losin’ you to my own frustration ripped a huge part of me away, but this? I don’t think I can keep goin’ after this..”

Now, her own tears came back, her head dropping with the shame and guilt and pain. It wasn’t fair. Life had fucked both of them up, ruined them and expected them to keep going forward. And now that they had finally started to pull things back together, to find love and support in themselves and each other, life was tearing everything away again – and leaving them with nothing. They were being abandoned. And soon, it would finally be over.

“Sorry. I ranted, huh? Depressin’ ya with my sadness. Sorry.. sorry. I love you, Nick. So much. I’m so sorry.”

The claws stiffen and tremble as she squeezes his hand, and he gasps-- it hurts, the pressure on still tender skin and muscle and exposed bone. Yet, he.. wants it. Aimlessly for a moment, he flexes his fingers, before tightening his grip back. It pulls another breath of pain from his lungs, stuttering out between his lips, but he wants it. His mind, but a splintered mess; a shitty little ship lost amidst a raging squall, flailing uselessly in the waves, battered with solid sheets of rain. In the hurt, he finds his eye of the storm.

“Sh..” A ghost of a whisper, scarcely a breath, float out from his hidey-hole beneath her jacket. “Shh.. ut... up.”

There’s Nick’s trademark venom, though it rings somewhat hollow-- merely an imitation, now. In some capacity, it’s him. Not fully. Somewhat of a glass half-full, glass half-empty situation.

“G... et.. the fuck.. out’a’ere..” A pause, a swallow, a racking cough past a ragged throat and an involuntary sob. “...wi.. with that... melodra... m-.. matic bullshit..” The jacket shifts. Just the slightest peek of red, dull eyes, framed beneath the edge of the collar.

“Peo.. ple... people die.” He continues haltingly; it sounds strange. A message passed by a raven, crying nevermore. “Get.. s-.. sad. Sure. But you... c.. can’t stop livin’.”

One of his hands draw away, settling to the floor for a moment, before drifting to her legs. A moment’s hesitation, or maybe just judging distance... and then it rests on her knee, fingers splayed out so very carefully.

“A-Ain’t no.. p--.. point, if you don’t.” His voice fades, trails away, this flash of lucidity starting to waver. “..if you... if you don’t keep livin’. N-no.. no point, if you don’t...” Nick stops abruptly, realizing he was repeating himself.

He stays quiet, eyes lidding-- almost like he fell asleep. After a minute, mustering his sense, he tiredly murmurs, “...I’m th... the sorry one, Sparks. But let... let’s not..” Drawing in a sharp breath, he grits his teeth to ground himself, eyes opening a sliver to glare at some point on the floor. “..s’th’last time we’ll be... s.. seein’ each other.. probl’y. Shouldn’ be sorry...” Weakly, he rolls the wrist of the hand clutching onto hers, sort of wiggling their joined hands together.

“I love y’too.. Prim. I... thanks...” The jacket raises subtly with his back as he sucks in a deep, measuring breath. He lets it back out. “..for, ah... everything. You’re a... a real dynamite gal.” Despite himself, he rattles out some sorry, airy excuse for a cackle.

~ Character Flaws ~ accepting!

What really is my muse’s biggest flaw?

Egocentricity.

For his all his natural empathy, and his instinctive caring about people; Nick is very, very selfish. Most things he does are driven by a deep-seated selfishness-- coming up with his Prickly Big Bad Nicolas persona, pushing people away, deceiving others, filching things he wants, and so on.

~ Character Flaws ~ accepting!

What would your character say their biggest flaw is?

“...” Slits of jade glare impassively back. Thin lips press together, twitch. Some muscle in his jaw works as he chews on the inside of his mouth.

“Fuck, Nick, hold..hold on. I’m gonna fix this, I’m gonna fix this. I’m not lettin’ you die, not yet. Not here, not now and not like this.” Strained, shaking and agonized, Ares’ voice begins to give out on her. She placed her jacket over him, trying to block the sunlight out, hiding his view of her as her hands grip into her blonde locks. He was dying. He was dying right in front of her and she had no way of stopping it or helping. How do you fight a disease that has no cure? Of course, as he weakly calls to her, using a name she thought he had long forgotten, she felt breathless. He hadn’t forgotten her, even if he could barely recognize her anymore.

And seeing the gouges in the hardwood floor shocked her into reality – he was about to completely forget her and possibly kill her. The infection would warp his senses, make him see things in a way that made them more horrifying than they were. And, if those growing claws were any indication to the survivor of what was to come, being this close would result in him tearing her to shreds.

“Nick, baby, I’m gonna back up slowly and try to find somethin’, anythin’, to help alleviate the pain. But I can’t sit too close, not.. not with you turnin’. But I ain’t leavin’ you.”

It takes her a minute to actually move, her heart shattering at being forced to witness his demise and wanting to give him one more show of love. Her mind forces her to move, rushing through every cabinet and drawer, through both medkits, only to turn up empty handed. In frustration, she growls and paces, deciding what to do. If she leaves, he could turn and she’d return to him as one of them, and risk her life. If she stays, she can be with him for the last moments of his life and she can tell him how much she loves him, and how badly she wanted things to be different, and apologize for her inability to act on those wants. Try to explain why she left. Witness his total transformation and die at the hands of a Witch. Either way, she doesn’t leave that room alive.

“Nick..fuck. I’m so sorry, love. I shouldn’t have left all those years ago. I should’ve stayed. I should’ve just told you the truth. I never wanted it to end like this. I thought we’d finally escape the apocalypse and be able to live a more normal life, somethin’ stable. I thought we’d finally be happy. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I love you so much, I’m sorry I disappeared.. I’m sorry..”

Sitting on her knees, Ares took a leap of faith, and gently took his hand in her own. She knew this could be it – this action could lead to him, delirious and becoming inhuman, killing her. But she had to. In her mind, it was cemented that this would very well be the last time she’d see him alive. She was going to die here, and she refused to do it without loving him.

As soon as the jacket is draped over him, he goes still. Very still. Nick says nothing, makes no noise.. just sits there. Perhaps listening, with rapt attention. Or, perhaps, he’s lost consciousness. Hopefully, the former.

When his hand is grasped, it twitches, and his entire body jolts underneath Ares’ jacket. While she had been roaming the room, searching for a cure that was not there and a forgiveness that was not coming, he had been busy mutating; his fingers now longer, jagged, stained with his blood, as the Flu was not kind with its changes. Gingerly, the bony digits curl ever so slightly around her hand.

Another shift beneath the fabric she had draped over him, like the sheet you would put across a corpse. Quietly, almost imperceptible at first, then rising in volume, is a series of keening, hitched breaths. A heavy inhalation, then a reedy exhale. 

He rasps out ragged, airy sobs; weeping. This close, Ares can hear the tears hitting floorboards. Blindly, his other arm snakes out, claws scraping lightly against the floor, until it finds their entwined hands. He almost seems surprised, from how it draws away a scarce couple inches, fingers flexing uncertainly.

His crying pauses; he’s hesitating.

“Sparks! I like that.” Ares chuckled, running her fingers very gently across his forehead. His fever was intense, worse than anything she’d seen before, even in other victims of the virus. He looked like hell and assumably felt much worse, so Ares took the wet cloth from a bucket and wrung it out, hoping the cold would help ease the deadly heat in his system.

When he mentioned the lack of a cure, she flinched, tears stinging at her eyes. He was right, of course, but she didn’t wanna admit that. She wanted to believe she could save him, keep him human, but his own submission to the truth made her bones ache. “I know. I know there’s no cure, no way to stop this, but damn it, I have to try.” She pressed the damp, cold rag to his forehead, desperately attempting to fight off the desire to sob.

She giggled when he mentioned it being ‘annoying’, watching over him. “Not at sad or annoyin’ at all! Considerin’ you’re basically a dead guy at this point, hearin’ you talk and laugh is rather impressive.” Of course, no amount of laughter would stop the waterworks, and Ares chokes back her crying, hit with the weight of loss.

“Please, you gotta hold on, love. I already lost you once. I can’t lose you again..”

Nick huffs out some kind of snort at her answer, one side of his mouth quirking up in a bittersweet smirk. Beyond that, he says and does nothing else, letting his eyes droop, seeming content to sit there and just... wait. Wasn’t much more he could do, after all.

As the agonizingly quiet minutes pass, he gets less responsive, ceasing the way he would incline his head to show he was listening to her, and not reacting to the damp cloth she would press to his feverish skin. He was already pallid, but somehow the color just kept draining away from him, leaving him a quite frankly awful looking pallor. Inside, he wasn’t faring much better. Thoughts were hard to hold on to, hard to keep in a straight line, hard to keep intact from the Flu’s meddling. The next time the rag touches him he suddenly jerks away, almost... hissing, lips peeled back to reveal a sliver of clenched teeth.

The amount of sunlight filtering into the room seems to bother him more now he was in a feverish daze. Weakly, he looks to attempt to get up or at least crawl to a darker space, but in the end can’t manage the strength and settles for rolling partly onto his side and burying his face in the floor. The arm not pinned under him reaches out blindly, fingers clawing at the wooden floorboards and leaving behind smears of blood and defined gouges. Ares could already see the sharpened points of his digits, either nail or, quite more disturbingly, bone. His lips part again, and this time he lets out a keening little whimper. Mustering what must have been a huge effort, he cracks his eyes open, just enough that Ares could see how red they were.

SIINCORE

Ares laughed at Nick’s half-assed attempt at a joke, her panic only dissipating slightly. She knew he was sick, and he was already starting to change, which amplified her fear back up. But, she wasn’t about to leave him there to die, so risking her life was fair game.

“I know you don’t, Suit, trust me. It’s all over your face that you’re not doin’ too hot. But, I ain’t leavin’ you here. Even if I get myself killed. You just gotta keep fightin’ it. I’m tryin’ to figure a cure, I really am.”

Not like there’s much I can do.

She knew there was no cure for the infection. She’d watched countless people die at its indiscretion and violence. But, watching him begin to die because of it, it yanked at her heart. They’d been through some shit together, even if it was things she’d rather not remember.

“Just keep holdin’ on, Nick. The livin’ ain’t done with you yet.”

@siincore

Muscles locking up, muscles spasming... Fatigue. Headache.

Nick had, by virtue of his specialty in medicine and the rarity of the disease, never seen rabies first hand. It was, by and far, a terrifying prospect-- luckily, it would never have fallen into his lap, if a patient ever even had it in his hospital. But, of course, it was so ubiquitous that the symptoms were fairly well known.

Mental confusion. Seizing. Delirium. Fever. Hallucination. Light sensitivity.

It was even now, to his addled brain, morbidly intriguing how the Green Flu took on so many aspects of rabies. He wondered if it had been engineered with samples of rabies, if it had been engineered, that was; but then, the Flu was too anomalous, too convenient for waging war, to be entirely natural.

Slowly, his eyes, reddened and sallow, flicked back to Ares as she laughed. He had gotten distracted again. That was, perhaps, one of the most infuriating things-- how slow his mind was. He didn’t have the energy to register the flicker of fear and primal panic when he, through blurry, half-squinted eyes, got the hint of sharp, too many teeth folded much too neatly in her mouth; how she seemed bigger, angrier, more monstrous than she really was. He at least had the wherewithal to, for the most part, ignore that part of the delirium. For now.

Oh, but there he went again. Getting off track.

“Don’ know what... what you’re talkin’ about. I feel like a new man, Sparks.” It’s difficult to get his jaw to open, with how the muscles lock and cramp-- he can’t but help but slur through his teeth and the excessive drool that, were he in a better state, would feel horribly disgusting about. “No point in... lying. Ain’t no cure, not in time, anyway.” He croaks, the very edge of his mouth curling into the barest smirk. “Maybe.. maybe beatin’ it, though. A.. possibility, I mean. After all, we’re... immune. Or, I was.” His shoulders bob a slight in a shrug. “Either way, I.... appreciate you. Watchin’ me. Must be... be real annoying, hm? N’... sad.”

@hells--legion

Nick seemed entirely unimpressed as Francis swaggered, one brow raising upward in a doubtful sort of look. Sighing, he closes his eyes for a second and turns away, organizing the medical supplies he had accumulated. He did seem to admire his work from the corner of his eye, though, watching the bigger man test it out. It was pleasing to see he hadn’t lost his doctorly touch.

“Nick.” He supplies, after a few moments of, probably, ignoring the question. Pausing, he side-eyes Francis, shoulders hunching a slight. Almost.. defensively. “What’s it to ya?” 

Already he was throwing up his barriers; trying his damndest to deflect interest away from him through being thoroughly unapproachable. God damnit. I shouldn’t have helped him. He’s probably going to think we’re friends now or some shit. Can’t have that..