Sylus noticed it the moment the resonated; wrong. Not forced, not like at the beginning, but with what was produced.
It was too thin, the ends of a rope splitting apart.
His brow furrowed, gaze shifting, and he was running - sprinting before fully processing the scene.
She was falling, and the Wanderer was diving.
His Evol lept to life, angry and jagged, as the red and black mists circled the Wanderer and crushed it into nothing the same time her weight fell into his arms.
She looked asleep - a type of serene that seemed a deep contrast to the battle happening around them.
His soul was screaming in a way it hadnāt before. Not with her.
And then he was up - long legs sprinting as his mist took out threats without hesitation. One after another - straight through the core.
Mind separated from body; one pushing forward out of instinct, the other already planning next steps with one half, whispering words of comfort with the other.
Did she hear him? He was unsure, but he had to try. Gods he had to try.
Her pulse was slow, too slow, that he could tell as he buckled her into the passenger seat. No visible wounds, no bruising he could see.
With one hand knocking back the gear shift and the tires peeling out from the asphalt, he swallowed back the fear that sat lodged in his throat like a stone.
It had to be her heart this time.
The five of them, when they realized how the all orbited the same star, the same sun, had decided to privately exchange numbers the next time they crossed paths.
It was precautionary, they had told themselves. Just in case, although none of them dared to voice the just in case part out loud.
The doctor answered in two rings. Listened. Hung up - already rushing from his office to the nurses on staff, orders falling from his lips with tactical precision.
The had five minutes to prepare for an incoming emergency - patient was female, early twenties, most likely suffering from advanced protocore syndrome.
Just another case, he told himself. Just another case - and if he said it enough, maybe he could convince himself. Convince his hands not to shake and his pulse to thrum like bees under his skin.
When the doors open, the team moved. None of them glanced at the white haired demon that had carried her in, shirt torn, but no visible wounds himself.
They swarmed the gurney he laid her on, moving together like skittering bug deeper into the hospital.
And for a long moment, Sylus stood there, processing while simultaneously trying not to think about anything but what to do next.
The charge nurse, a kind woman with dark hair, waited for his acknowledgement. Told him scripted platitudes and comforts that he did not hear, while a hand gestured to the waiting area.
Sterile. Off white walls with grey thin-cushioned chairs.
Too small chairs, he realized with a grunt as he tried to sit. It was fine, he needed to move anyway. Needed something he could control.
They came not long after each call. Her Hunter partner. The Artist. The Colonel.
They said nothing, all waiting in a variety of still life poses for whatever news was to come. Each quite sure of what would be said.
Each pair of eyes in turn took a glance at the wall clock, as the dark hands pushed slowly around the face.
The admittance door opened with a gentle hush, as the Doctor stepped through, still dressed in surgical scrubs, pulling the mask off his face.
The protest of the too small chairs being abandoned was louder than his steps.
He looked exhausted, gave a heavy sigh before, "She's alive. Stable. I'll show you to her recovery room soon." Zayne continued to push through, worried his voice would give if he didn't get it all out in one breath.
"The crystals in her heart were no bigger than before, but we have gone ahead and removed them. Just in case. At this point, it's up to her."
"So you're saying that you don't actually know what's wrong with her, then?" There was a sharpness in Caleb's voice, and, while, directed as a weapon toward the doctor, had been created out of hours of silent fear.
Zayne's jaw twitched in anger at his own answer. "No."
He fielded questions to the best of his ability until Sylus had the decency to stop the bombardment of questions from the other two.
Finally, they were led further in toward a private room, Sylus at the end, ordering the doctor's favorite drink discreetly on the app for the coffee shop down the street.
It was much too small to fit five men of their size, but they made it work - a game of human tetris. The pieces rotated to the best of the ability, each being allowed a few moments next to her, whispering secrets and sweet nothings in hopes it would coax her back to here.
Sylus was the last, as he often was, not that he minded. It gave him time to think. To carefully and selectively choose words and phrases meant only for the woman on the bed.
And yet, as he took seat in yet, another thinly cushioned chair by the bed, the words became a jumbled mess, and he found nothing to say at all.
Instead, he took her hand, which seemed much smaller and so much colder, into his larger one, and waited. Willed the universe and fate to give them just a little longer.
Not again, not again, not again.
You stirred to noise - a consistent beeping that was just shy of being an ear agitating pitch. Eyelids felt cemented shut as you fought through the heaviness that was in your bones, mind slowly piecing things back together.
Beeping - a hospital? Damn, that box must have hit your head harder than you thought. Rita was gunna be pissed you were having to take worker's comp for something as silly as a damn restock.
A sound escaped your throat, dry and croak-like, as you finally forced your eyes open.
The room around you was a blur of color - browns and blues and purples. Blinking repeatedly to clear your eyes, you turned toward your left, aware of a pressure around your hand.
There, before you, head tilted and grey brows furrowed, sat an unearthly beauty that normally you only had the pleasure of viewing on the other side of a glass screen.
You blinked again. He blinked back, ruby eyes darkening into a dangerous crimson.
Oh, you hit your head hard.
His hand pulled back from yours, whole body following suit as he recoiled away from you.
Your own brows furrowed this time in confusion, the lines deepening even more at his next statement.