The grip didn't loosen. If anything it tightened. But the black in his eyes stuttered, and for about a second I saw something that looked like the man under the thing.
"Come back to me Trux."
Kearan was there before I caught the movement. His hand hit Trux's arm, a flash that made my stomach drop. Then Trux went limp, his grip releasing as his consciousness went out and Kearan took him under the power of his magick.
I felt him go loose in my arms. That was the part that broke something in me, watching someone hand over consciousness because staying awake cost too much.
Kearan didn't stop. His hands kept moving in patterns I didn't know, his mouth shaping words that didn't make sense.His whole body shook, not from cold but from everything he'd pulled out of Trux before I even got there. Ryker moved in and helped me lower Trux to the floor. Still breathing.
Kearan finished. The last word dropped, and he sat down, not because he chose to but because there was nothing left holding him up. He hit the floor hard enough that it should have hurt and didn't flinch, because he was too exhausted.
Seph had a hand over her mouth. Rhiot was rigid, determining on how much longer this stayed survivable. Grayson's eyes were open now, holding something that looked like understanding and nothing like hope.
"Next time," Grayson said, flat. "Next time that happens, we might not have enough left in him to pull it off."
Nobody argued. Nobody offered comfort. The situation was urgent.
Ryker squeezed my shoulder and moved to check Kearan's vitals, the hacker checking the healer, everything was backward. I lowered myself onto the floor beside Kearan. Not asking anything. Not trying to fix anything. Just there, the one thing in the room that didn't need him to hold it together.
He reached out. His hand found mine. Not a move toward me, just a hand reaching for the one solid thing that wasn't asking him to be anything other than what he'd become. His hand was shaking. I didn't say anything. I held on.
The room emptied out. Seph wanted to stay; Grayson put a hand on her shoulder and walked her out, anyway.
Kearan still hadn't let go of my hand. The grip was loose because he didn't have anything else, but it was there, as if letting go meant he wouldn't be able to grab on again.
"You still in there?" I asked.
He blinked. Once. It was enough. His skin had gone gray, the color drained out and replaced with something closer to ash, his breathing shallow, running on the minimum to stay alive. Ididn't ask if he was okay. Didn't ask if he needed water or food or a medic. Just held his hand while the quiet settled over the room.
Time moved strange. Five minutes, maybe twenty. His breathing deepened, the gray resolving a little as his body remembered how to move oxygen.
"It's getting worse," he said, voice torn. "The Hesolga. I could feel the difference from last time, pulling it out of him. Next time he goes like that, I might not get it all out."
"Then we don't let there be a next time," I said.
He turned his head to look at me, and the rawness in his face said he heard the thing under it.
"I know what that means," a breath. "And I might not survive the next absorption. There's only so much one person takes on before it breaks them."
I squeezed his hand.
"Your hand is cold," he said, and his voice had something in it I didn't recognize. Present, instead of floating somewhere above his body.
"So's yours."
"We should fix that." I watched him take a self analysis of his condition and decide it was worth it. He moved, just enough to pull me closer without either of us standing, and his arm came around my back with the care of a man terrified of crushing something fragile. I put my head against his shoulder.
"I'm sorry," he said.
"For what."
"For being too wrung out to actually feel this. You deserve someone who can be here for it. I'm running on fumes."
"You're here. That's what matters."
He rested his head against mine. His heartbeat came through where I leaned on his chest, strong, still working despite everything.
"I love you," he said, and it came out like it was being pulled from him, like he couldn't afford to hold it anymore, like saying it was the only way to be sure he'd remember it if he got worse. "I love you, and I'm terrified."