capencowl2020 | [closed] fiyero, where are you?

[ A light is what brings him around. Flashlight beam directly on his face, in his eyes. His features are harder to recognize when they're so clearly human and the man looking at him doesn't know who he's seeing.

"It's not him," a guard says to another. Josh is wheezing, leaking all over the pavement, a goddamn wreck and they don't care. "Just some kid."

They don't try to help. They don't even roll him back over on his side so he doesn't choke on his blood, they just stand up and step over him. Trash. And these people were worried metas were what was ruining their world. They're gone, in hot pursuit of a con artist he should've left to die.

It takes all his strength to roll over, and energy he doesn't have to pull himself over to the shadow of the wall.

It was always probably going to end like this.

No powers means no ability to come back. No powers means this -- this is how he goes, for real. Miserable, betrayed, and utterly alone.

Somewhere, Joey Kavinsky's phone buzzes with a familiar text notification. Just three little letters, SOS, and a GPS tag, but he doesn't think he'll even see it in time. He's no stranger to bullet wounds, but without his powers he can't feel the how and why of it. Can't start to heal it or kickstart coagulation to buy even just a little more time. The only reason he's not dead is his physiology is still odd... just odd in a way only a wizard can fix.

A shaking hand presses to the injury, trying to staunch the bloodflow.

With his other, he focuses on carefully scrolling through his contacts until he finds the name he wants. His eyes drift shut, head resting against the wall, the phone held to his ear with an hand that probably won't be able to hold it in a few minutes. ]

Hi, beautiful... how you doing tonight?

Fine.

[ It's brusque and clipped. She hadn't been expecting a call at all, and the tonal quality of his voice, the words...

"Pull over here," she orders someone in her vicinity, and then a car door cracks open. A few steadying breaths and the noise light traffic... She tries to sound more peevish than anxious. ]

What did you do?

[ ha ha ha, he deserves that. he wants to laugh and play it off, but laughter only brings coughing. ]

Just... Bungled a break-in.

Don't lie to me.

[ It's not even a good lie. And that's a wet cough. She's definitely slipping on keeping the shake out of her voice. ]

Josh. What happened? Where are you?

[ like he could ever. his hand is starting to drop a little, body sagging against the wall. ]

Outside that big meta prison they took everyone to... I thought I had a way in, and it didn't work. [ his breathing is so heavy, everything hurts. he'd forgotten what this kind of lingering pain was like. this kind of work is easy for a healer. it's what made wolverine so good at it, and he was no logan but he got the job done.

but what happens when you take them away? ]

Damian... [ a pause, he tries to steady his voice. ] stole my powers... and I got hit real bad. I just... wanted to hear your voice.

Why would you--? [ She bites that off before she finishes, pivoting on the sidewalk. She's all nervous movement, now, unsure of what to do with herself. Damian. Why would Josh even think for a second that this was viable? He'd let hope outweigh reality. Of course he had.

She suddenly freezes in her pacing, and the next breath she lets out is at least close to a sob. ]

Stop. Just... Stop. We have to figure out what to do.

[ she's upset.

it was selfish to call her like this. to make her listen, but he never claimed to be a strong man. he shifts against the bricks, trying to keep his head up, to stay awake. ]

Get clear of the city.

No, that's not-- That's not going to help. That's not going to do anything.

[ There has to be a way out, a way to wriggle free. She's not going to run. What is there to even run from? How great is the fallout of this? If anyone comes, they'll come armed, and she'll annihilate them all.

But that's later. Maybe. ]

I'm not going anywhere, okay? We can-- We can figure something out.

[ would it ever be their time? Would they ever be able to be together, even as the monsters that they were becoming? Would they ever get to be in a way that was simple and uncomplicated, a lovely little home in Tuscany with nothing to fear but how they were going to fill their futures?

He coughs again. His eyes falling shut. ]

I’m not gonna last. [ he glances down at his hands - white skin, paler by the second, covered in red. His eyes are burning. Tears building, because it isn’t fucking fair. It was always going to end like this, but it isn’t fair. ] I sent — I sent an SOS, but... I’m sorry, Laurie.

Don't-- [ Don't leave me. She stops herself short of that, though. Giving the order won't will it to happen, and it'll just be acknowledging the reality of what's happening. ]

Don't talk like that, okay? It's-- [ That's just being naive, though, isn't it? Wouldn't Josh know better than anyone what blows he can and can't survive with? Pivot, then. ] I'll kill him, okay? I'm done fucking around. I'll kill all of them.

[ she could. pretty easily, too. nobody would so much as glance at her if she walked into their offices and compelled every last one of them to end themselves then and there.

there's another awful wet, hacking cough. he's having trouble getting his breath back. ]

What we've been doing... it will never end... in anything but this. [ he swallows tightly. ] Don't... you deserve to be happy?

[ She lets out a bark of laughter at that, bordering on a sob. ] Not really. I'm a murderer, Josh. This-- It's fruitless, isn't it? They're never going to stop.

It makes me feel better to see them suffer and die. That's all.

[ So, really, she just deserves what she gets, which is definitely not happiness. Not when this is happening the way that it is, happening so soon. ]

I don't want you to die. You-- Nobody else sees me. Like like you.

[ it is. it was all a hopeless mission from the start. changing the world doesn't work, no matter how you try it.

he doesn't know what to say. how to reassure her. how to make the most of the time they have left. he's pretty sure no one is coming. ]

I don't want to go. [ his bad. he thought he wanted something until he got it, now there's no way to take it back. ] But I'm... glad I got to come here. That we... got more time...

Yeah. Me, too. [ What else is left but to agree to the statement. That degree of reassurance is all that's left. That, and: ] I love you, okay?

If there's anything after this-- [ She's not sure she believes that, but she's never wanted to believe in it more than right now. ] We can circle back around again, yeah? We'll be okay again.

[ Maybe he should’ve sent him something else. An apology for how everything had gone down. Some admittance that maybe he should’ve gotten help before things got that far, he should’ve busted him out at any cost. He’s sorry and he doesn’t think he ever really said it, just desperately tried to smooth it over and act like it never happened.

Too little, too late. He knows he doesn’t have the words to express it.

By the time anyone finds him he’s already unconscious. Head tipped against his shoulder, he’d slid most of the way down the brick wall behind him, the hand that had been so desperately trying to hold himself together has slipped. The phone is on the ground, his other hand limp and lifeless beside it.

It’s hard to recognize him. Everything that was gold has gone red and white. ]

[they come off the ship to gather the man, not knowing if they will find a person or a corpse. and this, the crew of the samodiva has done dozens and dozens of times before. more than.

joseph kavinsky has never been on the ground for these. too weak, sometimes. too important, generally. not to be a dick, but if he caught a stray bullet to the head, a hundred people would fall out of the sky and crash to a burning death on what might be hundreds of other people on the ground below, so. it's just generally not worth the risk.

but he was never going to stay in for this.]

Stretcher, stretcher!

[josh isn't conscious, as far as they can tell. so he probably doesn't see them, the five who set up the stretcher parallel to him then hoist his body aboard. oxygen mask slapping onto his face. they have a staple gun that they use to fucking bolt the lips of his wound shut, a weighted blanket flung over him to try and staunch the bloody wound.

josh isn't conscious, as far as they can tell. so he probably can't see joey, his face bloodlessly white. ironically, it's not just the raw adrenaline of fucking terror that gives him the energy and strength to do this; he's still enjoying the boost josh had given him the other week.

he snaps the thumb monitor onto josh's fingers and glances at the small heart monitor screen, expressionless. someone says, we have to move, and he holds up a finger: shut the fuck up.]

[ it has all the same beats as the last time he looked like this. healing the wrong person, having them turn and strike him in that moment of vulnerability and weakness. at least rahne hadn't meant it either time she'd done it, at least rahne had been worth maybe giving his life for.

they move him and he doesn't stir. they get oxygen in his lungs and make strides towards stopping the immediacy of his imminent end. there's a heartbeat, faint and fading, but still there.

he does start to move when joey comes closer. lacks the sixth sense that would let him know who he was, but recognizes it on some other level. something deeper. his eyes are blue when they open, struggling to keep them open. he's cold, colder than he's ever been in his life, and isn't sure this is real. ]

J.. oey?

[bip. bip. josh has a pulse. nobody's breathing a sigh of relief just yet, but with nod from joey, two of the other imports stoop to hoist up the stretcher. joey straps the device to the stretcher's pole, only to hear that voice.

it's good that josh is awake, of course. but joey has the brief, stupid thought: he wishes josh weren't, because it's a bad reflex he's struggled with for years -- how easily he fucking cries. he blinks hard, willing himself not to do this. not in front of these people, not before they get back onto the samodiva, surely. he's not leadership anymore, but he has appearances to maintain and

and how's it going to help anybody, if he can't damn well see?]

Don't talk, [he says.] Save your strength. We're getting you onboard, then we're heading straight to Staten Island to meet Anders.

[ too far. it's too far. he's absolutely certain.

someone - someones? he can't tell he can't sense a thing - start moving him, he can barely focus on that. his vision fading in and out, the pain so sharp and sudden it keeps ripping the breath from him. this is where he'd normally smile reassuringly, play it off because it's no big deal and he's so accustomed to pain it's nothing new.

but he doesn't. he tries to, but he can't quite manage it.

joey shouldn't be here. shouldn't be seeing this. shouldn't be risking it but he should have known he'd insist on coming too. his eyes start to drift shut again. he's felt pain over the years since getting his powers, but he knows it was never this sharp. some part of his powers shielded him from the worst of what he felt. this kind of pain is foreign. lethal. ]

I'm.. s... [ sorry, so sorry. sorry he's making one more mess someone he loves has to clean up for him. ]

I said--

[they're running now. it's a good distraction, from the pricking feeling behind his eyes. from the inevitability that josh is indeed going to die, because yes, it is too far. for the amount of blood josh has lost, for the fact his body is so reliant on his power that they can't be sure that their normal supplies aboard the ship are going to be able to stabilize him.

it's a good distraction from overestimating the signficance of every little mistake between now and josh's death. that he let josh speak. that he came here, to get him, and if he hadn't, maybe josh wouldn't have spoken, and that could have bought them a few more minutes. enough minutes to reach anders.]

I said, don't talk.

Please. [the samodiva lurches into view as they penetrate the cloaking, a blur of golden light.] Just focus on staying alive. [joey yanks his woollen tuke down lower over his ears, his forehead, as if that might hide the suspect red around his eyes, that no one is looking for anyway.]

[ when they were still young and new to this world, death had gone from an unwanted friend to a far off concept. he'd gone from a world where buses full of children are killed by bigots to one where it was a little more okay to be yourself. death was no longer something that could happen any moment, but something that old people thought of while sitting on porches surrounded by a life well lived.

then it was back. and he supposes maybe he went looking for jt. tried to find it to keep an eye on it, or maybe to rush towards it and remind himself that he had control. because people like him didn't get to forget what the world was really like, what death looks like, they didn't get to think about after when the world and all its awful cruelty demanded they sit straight and look forward, because it was coming right for them. sooner or later. the best death he can hope for is something a little better than what he left behind, cold and alone in a filthy alleyway. the samodiva is a better place to die, and selfishly, josh has never been much good at being alone. at least he won't be.

but he's still so very cold.

he doesn't speak. whether that's because he wants to obey joey's wishes or because he falls unconscious again is a toss up. he fights to stay alive because he's told to more than anything, trying to hold together broken bits of his impossible body with powers he doesn't have anymore. ]

[a little while later, they're aboard the ship.

the onboard medics do what they can. they're feeding plasma to josh through tubes, but his blood pressure keeps dropping anyway. the electric blanket doesn't seem to be doing anything to stabilize his temperature. the bip-bip, bip-bip of the heart rate monitor is slow and erratic, and the numbers keep changing; most of the time, they're red instead of green. the room empties out, so in the end it's just a nurse checking on josh sporadically.

joey's stepped out a couple times because. well, he has a lot of jobs, and being josh's person has not been one of them in several years. but after the last time he came back, he hasn't left. sometimes one of his jobs is making horrible decisions. not quite the victor vale, king of the resistance, but decisions that nonetheless manage to be horrible.

he touches josh's wrist. if the other young man looks at him, joey's face is blotchy now, a puffy mess. still damp.]

Hey, [he says.] Foley. I got a choice for you to make, or I can call Laurie and she can decide for you.

[ after m-day, some mutants died because their bodies simply could no longer thrive without their powers. Josh had seen a lot of it firsthand, though the school had been mercifully lucky and only lost one student to it.

He figures his is probably the same, though. They're buying extra time, but that extra time isn't going to get them to Staten Island in time. He's in terrible amounts of pain when he's awake, and anesthesia isn't doing much to keep him under. There's no pleasant numbness here.

Joey touches his wrist and that brings him around again. His too-blue eyes struggle to focus. The tears are all too easy to process, if he had the strength he'd wipe them away

As it is, he just squeezes his hand. he's tired but he's listening. ]

Um, [says joey, who rarely has difficulty speaking coherently these days, twenty one-years-old, jaded but also confident, but here he is, 'umm'ing like a teenager at debate club,] um. We don't have to go to Staten Island. Because-- um. Because we probably won't make it in time anyway, so.

[his voice sounds very snotty and dense behind the nose. embarrassing. but this version of joseph kavinsky doesn't care about things like being embarrassed when real shit is going down.

and it doesn't get any realer than this. even though they weren't together, he'd always thought josh foley would be around; for joey's kids to meet. for himself to visit once a year, maybe, or every other year, to invite to his wedding or attend his, stiffly polite, reminisce about the war, after the painful events had sepiaed out, turned into dark jokes, then into ordinary jokes. he'd be that weird uncle who looked like a life-sized oscar. he'd probably even be around for the generation after that, immortal as he was, a guardian angel.]

We could go meet Laurie, instead. So she can be with you.

[when you die, he means. but he doesn't want to say it; it makes breathing difficult, which makes sense, because they'd grown up together, and josh's presence in his life became as reliable as air -- even after they broke up.]

[ in one world, a bullet ends laurie collins life. josh goes on without her, never the same after witnessing her final moments.

in this one, a bullet is ending his. laurie would go on without him, see the other side of this whole thing (if there is another side) and he knows she would feel guilty for the rest of her days that he'd chosen to go to her instead of towards the slimmest possible chance of salvation.

he's pretty sure joey would too.

they have a lot of the same beats underneath the surface. the same heart, too big and too vulnerable. the world has hardened them in so many ways. ].

N...

[ his breath wavers. pain shows so much more clearly when you're human. his brows flinching down, bloodless lips pressing together. ]

No.

Are you sure?

[joey's tattooed fingers are on the cover of the mattress, twisting the thin fabric as well as the rubberized layer underneath, like a dog might worry a chewtoy with its molars. he inhales wetly through his nose, a gurgle in the back of his nose. if die one must, it's always best to die with your loved ones. as many of them as possible.

sure, joey knows. the way josh looks at him, makes little concessions. but it is so terribly sad, he thinks, that he would pass away without her.]

Josh--

[he blinks harder. he can't see, his eyes nearly blinded by tears. josh doesn't look anything like himself, all the gold gone from his skin. (there had been that one halloween, not the one where they dressed as each other, but they'd slapped him in a purple velvet shirt, plastic cross, stuck plastic gemstones and silver paint in filigree, and he'd gone as the royal crown of queen elizabeth while joey wore a sandwichboard trimmed into a giant cutout replica of her head.)

(he doesn't look like that anymore.)] Are you completely sure? [it's not the bed under his hand, after that. it's josh's white fingers, clutched desperately.]

[ he isn't.

he wants laurie here. to hear her voice. to hold her hand, to tell her that it's going to be okay and there's a life after this. there has to be. but they got their goodbye, bitter and broken as it was.

there's a pause before he answers. strain evident. ]

She'll... never forgive herself.

[ she already won't. maybe she won't forgive herself for being here with him too. of the two of them, he's somehow still the optimist. the one who reaches his hand out to heal the people around him, no matter the cost to himself. he wanted to be merciless, to channel everything that had made wolverine such a formidable force, but he couldn't.

he squeezes joey's hand in turn. worries about who will heal him now, really heal him. maybe he should have pulled anders aside that day on the airship, compared notes, made sure someone knew the secrets he did. that people are going to be okay when he's not here. ]

You won't... either.

[ they'll always wonder. if maybe, if they'd tried, or they'd been faster. if they could have gambled for a better fate. he does, every day. a thousand different choices he could have made. lives he could have saved.

his grip falters a little. his eyes are burning. he should tell joey to go, he knows he's busy, that he doesn't need to sit here and watch him fade away into the night. but joshua foley is scared, and the words won't come out.

he's never been very good at keeping himself company. ]

[snnghgk. joey breathes.] To be fair, I'm a very practical person, [he says.] I wouldn't forgive myself if I didn't try to get you to your girl, either.

[none of this is practical. his head feels full of dark and strange clouds. war happens everywhere, he knows. his world is like enough to the one here that he studied world war i and ii as fit both. vietnam, too. the first and second balkan wars, if he felt like learning about his parents' home country. death is nothing new, and young men have been dying with their guts rolling out in messy gelatinous spools for as long as there were young men to kill.

but it hurts brightly, for some reason.]

And you don't have to be sorry about anything.

[apart from that you're dead. and that laurie isn't even here for you, or david. the other mutants who were your family, in the long years back home, and this one. there are so many people who should be here, but instead josh has sterilized blankets, the erratic whine of vital monitoring machines, the hand of a thief.] I'm fine. We're fine. [he wipes his cheek.] Really. In my room, I got a piece of gold conductor from the implants that they pulled out of my head after the prison break.

I named it Josh, because it's shiny, and pretty, and it didn't fuck me up like it thought it was gonna. Sometimes I think, it made me stronger. [he leans his arm on the pillow beside josh's head and wipes snot off his nose, and tries for a smile that breaks in the middle, like his voice did just now.]

There ain't anything to apologize for.

[ Joey talks a lot. It’d been one of his favourite features about him, get him going and he never seemed to stop. Gotta fill that silence somehow. He’s trying hard, so hard, and it makes Josh smile a little in turn.

Maybe he shouldn’t have given up on the idea that it could be better again. When had he stopped waking up and deciding every morning that he would do better? When had he become all of the wrongs he could never right? Regret is heavy in his chest, there’s no mystical sense of peace that was promised in all the war movies about heroes dying for good causes... but he knew that already, didn’t he?

Kevin had probably felt this. When Josh had killed him. That was probably why he’d started to beg, realizing he’d gone too far with no way to go back until death himself was holding his hands and pretending it was a kindness. In those last moments, he was realizing the world had changed for the worse, and he with it, and he’d never live to see what it could have been. Did he think that he was too young, despite knowing that death had no minimum age? ]

I should have... [ Tried harder. Done better. Been better. Saved Joey the second he was caught, no matter what the cost. Thought of better last words.

He’d been obsessed with the idea of last words for a little bit, after reading some book for school, wedging cold feet into Joey’s side because heat wasn’t cheap and they were kind of broke. The light of the magical fire was shitty to read by but he managed. He wasn’t through his dark phase yet, but he was still preoccupied with the idea of death and what an impact it had on the people who survived it. How you carry on a legacy the rest of the world had already forgotten.

I should have are shitty last words, he decides, but he can’t get something better to come forth. They’re fitting, too, for someone whose life is a series of should haves, would haves, and could haves. There’s no real need to specify, even if he wants to. But he’s out of time.

His eyes drift shut. It isn’t long before the machines start screaming as his impossible body begins to stop. ]

[so many people have died. not just in world war i, or world war ii, or 'nam or the balkans, but here too. joey knows how people fall apart. grown men asking for their mothers, girls too tough to cry.

one inevitably speculates as to what they will be like, on the day. in general, joey has been humble enough to acknowledge he'd either be high out of his mind, thus pretty neutral or inappropriate, or he'd be whining with the best of them. having not been his canon self in some time, he has yet to conceive that it's possible to actually do both. but that's neither here nor there.

here, joshua foley is dying. the end of his sentence, which had seemed awful anyway, doesn't finish; that seems more awful. inconceivably.]

Motherfucker.

[joey bolts. out into the corridor, the reek of injury flowing in after him, and the medical instruments screaming in time with him as he shouts,] Doctor! Nurses! Exam room three, he's--

[wham. he crashes bodily into someone else, at first he thinks it must be a nurse, but they're still coming down the hall, and that isn't scrubs brushing his chin. he rears back, but he can't make out the other person's face from the smeary blur of tears.] He's, um, [he says, thickly.] M-my. H-he's--

[The sick bay is one of the areas of the ship Cassidy rarely approaches, the stench of blood and the constant weight of survivors guilt enough to keep him well clear of it beyond the routine visits to top up on blood bags. He doesn't like witnessing the sick, injured and dying, so many of them desperate to cling to life while he's miserable in his own immortality. Selfish, most definitely, but it's not Cassidy's business. It's never his business. Everyone's got to die eventually, and whether that's now or many decades from now isn't something he should interfere with, a passive observer and nothing more.

He'd just wanted some new blood, that was all, but the scene he very literally walks into is something much harder to ignore than the other sick bodies lying around. It's the smell on Joey that he notices first, the reek of sticky blood, but it's his face that's of far more concern to Cass. In all his time in their other world he'd never seen Kavinsky like this.]

A-alright, lad. It's alright. [His hands hold a comforting weight on Joey's shoulders as he peers towards the door he's just dashed from. The screech of machines fills in any blanks in the story.]

Friend of yours, issit?

[a shipboard doctor bolts past them. joey's far enough out of the way that he doesn't obstruct, and he's also too thoroughly blinded and deafened by his own messy ugly cry face to make much account of himself otherwise.

he sags dangerously in the vampire's hands, but manages to not all the way drop to his knees in tiny gay melodrama. but he is still, super fucking upset.]

He's m-m-my ex-boyfriend, [joey says.] His n-name is Josh. 'Nd someone fucking shot him. [it is difficult for all kavinskys to convey anything without swearing, but the other one is worse at every other aspect of expressing when the whole world seems to be caving in. for kavinsky back home, life is suffering endless. he would rather not talk about it; there's never anything you can do to change that, you see.] He's going to die. And it's so--

It's so fucking sad. [he mashes the heel of his hand into his eye, which won't stop overflowing.] I already miss him. I shouldn't fucking s-say that, but I do.

[he doesn't get all into it. about the kids who were supposed to meet uncle oscar, or the myriad of birthdays he planned to attend, pretending sometimes to do so out of only politeness. the future husband he would surely flaunt under josh's nose, unless he was really upset about it. but cassidy is only a polite stranger, and one who's going to face his own share of war losses, as a meta in the city now; joey won't get into it. but his face crumples like kleenex as two nurses join the doctor behind him.

they're pushing o2, getting the paddles out. it's a fucking nightmare.]

Christ...

[Shouldn't get involved. And yet... who was it that dragged his ass to safety when the Government were bearing down on the new arrivals? Joey's the reason Cassidy's got this sweet gig of room, board and booze, instead of a containment cell and a whole lot of torture, and so far he's done fuck all to return the favour.

Maybe that favour could be comforting the poor, mourning sod, but just maybe it doesn't have to be.

With a soft grunt of understanding, he peels himself away from Joey with a final squeeze at his shoulders, heading then towards the commotion of the room with the same grim determination as the doctors and nurses before him.]

Get me a coupla bags of blood at the ready, and get those bloody paddles off him. [Demanding as he shoulders his way towards the bed. In any normal world this shit wouldn't fly, having a civilian barrelling in with bold claims, but with metas the way they are the professionals hold out some level of hesitant hope.

He stares down at Josh for a few long seconds, noting how he's way too young to be dying for any sort of cause, and well aware of just how wrong this could go even if it works. There's no other option though, not the way he sees it, not beyond this or death... Maybe death's the better option, but perhaps that's just him being a little too melodramatic.]

Sorry for this, boyo.

[It's unclear whether he's apologising to Joey or the near dead Josh, but he doesn't bother to explain himself. Instead he answers any questions with a baring a pair of short fangs that flash into existence, huffing out a few breaths to try and steel himself before lurching downwards to attach onto Josh's neck, drinking deep of the injureds blood and gripping tight to the edge of the bed like he's half expecting resistance from the observers.

Hopefully he's here to help. Or he's just a weird guy trying to get a free meal from a dying kid.]

[for a moment, joey is blind and confused. the next moment, he's slightly less blind and still extremely confused, as he wiped the heels of his hands across his eyes is shocked to see cassidy interrupting treatment measures that he hadn't thought much of anyway.

but then

then.]

WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING?

[his voice takes off like a rocket. before he can get into the room, the doctor and nurses are already trying to intervene, grasping at cassidy's arms, shouting at him. but joey runs in like an angry weasel the next moment, adding his weight to the hand grasping at cassidy's arms, hauling him back.] Get off him!

[the words are barely recognizable as words; an animal sound of terror as joey's blurry blurry eyeballs dart toward the lank body on the bed.]

[ it's possible to prolong his life using modern medicine. painfully, miserably, and inprecise but entirely impossible. keep a heart beating and lungs working and you stand a shot of keeping him going, but it really only amounts to a slower death.

letting him go then and there would probably have been a mercy. fighting to keep him going when you couldn't solve the root cause was only drawing an instant of agony out into hours. the doctors fight and josh, even unconscious and sitting on death's door, is dimly aware of their efforts. despite his fear, he wishes they would stop.

but then it stops. they stop.

and something else starts.

this isn't the first time he's come to on a hospital bed, disoriented and in terrible pain. it probably won't be the last, eiher, if the lives of the other immortal x-men has been any blueprint for how his is going to go.

but it's the firsst time he's woken up with someone's teeth still in his throat.

he's been bitten by werewolves, touched by death, and ragdolled by psychics and telepaths - but a vampire is a new one. he barely even registers what the fuck is happening, people are screaming. machines are screaming.

the flatlining monitor stops shrieking that final warning note, the faint beep-beeps starting slow but getting stronger with every beat. there's a strangled sound, josh's too pale hands grip at the sheet under him. ]

[Even with his extra strength, there's only so long he can hold off against a group of yelling resisters. At first his jaw merely clamps down tighter, like a pitbull, fighting against the hands on him until he feels the first signs of movement under him.

Only then does he surrender, suddenly going limp when he relents, the drag of fangs as he's yanked away likely the least of Josh's problems right at that moment.

Cassidy doesn't bother to explain himself. Hopes that the machines will tell their own tale as he slumps into the arms of a Doctor still holding him tight, warm blood dribbling down his chin while he barks:]

Get the poor lad some blood, fer christ's sake. Joe, mate, trust me here, c'mon now.

[the moment cassidy -- detaches from the boy in the bed, joey lets go of him. the nurses don't, trying to shift cassidy backward a few more steps lest the vampire try to go for seconds. i mean it's war, food is scarce... though presumably less for people who drink blood?

anyway.]

Josh?

[joey's eyes are big as dinnerplates. they dart between josh's face and the heart monitor five or six times, before going to cassidy. he hears what the vampire is saying rather belatedly, as if it is an echo arriving from over a long, long distance. by then -- boy, he's over-fucking-whelmed today, because joey's usually pretty fast on the uptake, actually -- the doctor has begun hesitantly to pull the blood bag off the iv stand and then

joey snatches it out of his hands, naturally.] Here, [he says.] What-- what's-- Josh, take this. [he puts the bag on joshua's chest, his brain slowly piecing together the pieces -- sliding it up toward his face, which still looks awfully pale and thin?]

Cassidy, what-- is this... did you...?

[it's been a minute since he conversed with a vampire. the terminology has completely emptied itself out of his mind. 'make a bat baby' is the phrase that pops irreverently into his head, looping idiotically in his mind's ear.]

[ he's not really processing it. there's fresh pain in his neck, old pain through his shredded torso, and --

and and and there's a bag of blood on his chest, he doesn't get it until he does. forcing one arm up despite how leaden it feels and biting down on the bag without the dexterity or even the awareness to do much better than that.

in general, josh isn't a very aggressive person. not unless he's angry, or pushed, but the second he gets a taste of that blood both hands are coming up to clutch at it. there's a sad, desperate sort of sound low in his throat. ]

[He slithers out from the hands of those holding him the moment he feels their grip loosen, shifting in closer to Josh once more with a slow forming and knowing smile. There's nothing about blood drinking he approves of, hates everything about what vampires are and what they do, but he knows how damn good it feels to sate that hunger and feel your body rapidly patch itself back together, pain lifting like the warm spread of a good drug.

If Josh is sitting up and drinking, then Cass already knows he'll survive just fine.]

Good, eh? [God, he probably shouldn't be encouraging the desperation, but seeing a nearly dead kid alive again is enough reason to allow himself some self-satisfaction.

His gaze eventually drags back to Joey, apologetic in his stare like a dog that knows it's done wrong.]

I-i-it's just temporary, like. So he can heal. Won't last more than a day I swear to yeh. Just... give him some space for a bit, yeah?

[so much is happening right now. joey k is reverse galaxy brain. the big bang happening in reverse, the heat death of the universe. his mind is collapsing under the pressure.

josh is alive. that's the most important thing.

but josh is also drinking blood in miserable weird deeply uncharacteristic gulps, and that's-- that can't be unimportant, can it? joey looks at the vampire -- the older one, anyway, blurry with confusion.] A day? [he repeats.] Are you-- um. Are you sure?

[it's only for a day. does that make it unimportant? what happens after a day? the thought makes joey reach out and grasp cassidy's sleeve, now that the medical professionals have abandoned it.]

He'll stay healed? I mean-- [man he has a lot of sludge coming out of his nose. confused crying is snottier than sad crying or happy crying.] after?

[ this should disgust him. it should. he's known vampires and gotten blood for vampires, but he's not big on the idea of blood drinking himself. its kind of the antithesis to being a healer.

he feels starved. he's healing, but it's a different kind than the one he knows. unconscious, no control over it. it is good, but he doesn't know what to do with this feeling. he swallows the last mouthful and doesn't bother to wipe his mouth. ]

I don't feel dead. [ his voice is still straining a little.

but also he doesn't feel dead and he doesn't feel anything, can't sense anything about anybody, and that's more disorienting and upsetting than he thought it would be. ]

That's 'cause yer not dead, boyo.

[He replies quietly to Josh, reaching out to pat a tattooed hand to his shoulder. Vampires like them are undead at best, but even that barely describes them when their own blood still pumps and there's somehow still breath in their lungs. Fully functioning humans, just... better in almost every way.

Joey's spared a glance after, his smile towards the clingy, confused soul as reassuring as he can muster, even with blood all down his chin and his front.]

He'll stay healed. Good as new when it's all over, might just have a tough twenty four hours, is all I'm sayin'. It's not an easy change. I-it's like... the worst parts of puberty all at once, and with more murderous intent. Heh...

I'm sorry, lads, I didn't know what else to do.

[closed] fiyero, where are you?

LAURIE

Re: LAURIE

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KAVINSKY

tw wounds, medical treatment

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mild powerposes here

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excuse the wait pals