Muse slowly blinked as consciousness gradually washed over her. She woke up. Or at least that’s what she thought she did. She turned her head and the room swam - everything was far too beige. Beige and white. Beige, white and bright. The pounding in her head was making it hard to think.

She thought she might have let out a weak cry, but wasn’t honestly sure if the noise that she heard was her. She choked out a pained sob, her eyes shut tight. All she wanted was for the pain to stop…

“Hello there…”

She blinked, turned her head up slightly and squinted against the light. She saw a dark blot overhead - a dark blot that resembled a person. She shuddered slightly as whoever was there began running a hand down across her hair, smoothing it back. When the hand touched her, the pain seemed to slowly fade to an ache.

“You are all right, my dear… just try to stay calm.”

She went to speak but felt nothing come out, just air.

“Shh. I know you are overwhelmed right now… I will do what I can to help. Rest.”

Muse felt her eyelids grow heavy. She felt a pair of lips press a kiss gently onto her forehead.

Blessed sleep.

Victor sat on the front steps of the hospital, his head in his hands. It was quiet outside, as it was only an hour until dawn. He had taken up calling Eric every half an hour, desperately trying to reach his brother. It was the only way to hold back the panic that he felt gripping him. Picking up his phone, he hit send and put the phone to his ear.

‘You’ve reached Eric, techno-god of the universe and exotic male dancer. Leave your number to book a reservation. Ladies only, please.’

He hung up with the push of a button. No point in leaving yet another message. Letting out a wavering breath, he watched as the light started to leak into the sky. He pushed the send button.

‘You’ve reached Eric, techno-god of the universe and exotic male dancer. Leave your number to book a reservation. Ladies only, please.’

He hung up. Every fiber in his body wanted to scream. Rubbing his hand across his forehead and slowly through his chin-length blond hair, he pushed the send button. Once again, the message picked up.

‘Victor, I’m fine. I just need some space to think. Really, I’m fine. Don’t touch my stuff.’

He shut his eyes, let out a low growl and hurled his phone across the lawn. Getting up, he stormed inside. He’d get his phone later, but, right now, he didn’t want to be anywhere near it. He was going to punch Eric’s teeth out the next time he saw the little bastard, he firmly decided. No way in hell was he letting him get away with this bullcrap. Muse needed Eric here, hell, he needed his brother here.

Muse found herself staring at a faded violet curtain attached to a track on the ceiling. The room was more in focus this time, albeit barely. Her head swam, and her mouth tasted coppery. And goddamn that beeping noise.

Taste. She could taste copper. She was lying down, propped up at a slight angle on a white bed. A tube ran from her left arm, up to what looked like an IV. Slowly, she tried to put together what she was looking at. Wires ran from the patch to set of metal boxes and a monitor next to her on the wall. It seemed she had several of these patches stuck on her, as more sets of wires ran from the box to somewhere under the sheets. Try as she might, she couldn’t figure out what the hell was going on.

She shifted, and let out another groan as she felt the fabric against her. She could feel the pressure of the bed, she could feel the pillow behind her head - she could feel everything around her. It suddenly registered all at once.

Muse screamed.

The room spun as she ran out of air. She laid her head back and felt the burning in her lungs. She heard footsteps getting louder, heard the door to the room fly open.

“Muse!” She looked up and saw the bleary image of someone who looked like Victor. “Muse - you’re awake! Hey..” He crouched down next to her and put his hand on her arm. His eyes were wide with some bizarre combination of relief and panic.

She could feel his hand on her arm. It hurt like hell, sending pins and needles up through her shoulder. Muse began to cry with another choked sob.

“Hey…! Hey now.. don’t cry… why’re you crying…?” Victor reached out to stroke her hair back, but stopped himself, suddenly realizing what was happening. The last thing he needed to do was make it worse for her. “Oh god. Oh god, oh god.”

She stammered uselessly. No matter what she seemed to try, nothing formed sensible words. Finally, after what felt like forever to her, she got one out. “Hurts…”

“Oh, hun… I’m so sorry… I’m so, so sorry…” Victor turned his head as Mal thudded into the room with a nurse. “Mal! Mal she’s awake.”

“I can see that,” Mal snuffed. He rubbed his hand over his head. Muse couldn’t remember ever seeing the big man with a look of worry on his face. “’Ey, Blue…”

She wanted to say something. She wanted to ask questions. Nothing seemed to work through the strange haze she was in. She seemed disconnected from the room, but not in the way she was used to. It was like tripping on acid, only she never really remembered it being this miserable. The nurse rushed to the bed, checking on the wires and the readouts on the screen next to her head.

“You’re… It’s all going to be really weird, you’re on a lot of medication… just try to relax,” Victor was gripping the metal railing of the hospital bed with both hands like it was the only thing holding him back. From what, she wasn’t sure.

She swallowed hard, tasting that awful coppery thing again. Taking in a slow deep breath, she focused. It took all her will, but she finally managed to form more than a few shattered syllables. “It all hurts… I can feel… Why…? Why.. can I…? The pounding in my head…” She took in a shuddering breath. Her voice sounded weak and hoarse. It hurt to talk, but, then again, everything hurt at this point.

“Ssshh..” Victor said quietly again, chewing on his lower lip.

“Yer okay, Blue… we promise.”

She didn’t believe them.

“It’s so good to see you awake,” Victor said from next to her. She forced herself to open her eyes, taking a while to focus on him. He was trying to smile, but it really didn’t make it too far on his face.

It dawned on her slowly that she must have been unconscious. “How long… was I?” Muse coughed, unable to finish. It felt like something was stuck in her throat. That reminded her. Why could she feel her throat?

“A week and a half, give ‘er take,” Mal said quietly from where he stood by the wall as if he was too nervous to get closer. Why was he acting like that? What was happening? Muse found herself suddenly trying desperately not to panic. The nurse said something, but she missed it, as the woman walked out of the room. “Why can I… what happened…?”

“Don’t worry about that now,” Victor replied, reaching out and gently stroking her hair back. She flinched slightly as she felt his hand run across her hair.

“No. Tell me… why’m… why the IV… painkillers… what-” Panic started to leak into her voice. Something was wrong, something was horribly wrong.

“Just - please, stay calm. We don’t know how - Isaac - he did something, we don’t know what - and you’re alive. You’re not dead anymore.”

“What?!” Muse shouted with a croak, staring at him. She turned her head sharply as she tried to sit up. Her vision swam, the image seemingly lagging behind the motion. “No. No, I can’t be alive…”

“You are,” she felt him reach out and gently press her back against the pillow.

She was too weak to fight. Her mind was reeling. She wondered if she was going insane. She probably was. “No…” Muse began to cry again. “No,” she rasped. Another weak attempt at sitting up only caused another shooting dart of pain to rush up both arms. She fell back against the pillow uselessly.

“Sssh… Muse, c’mon… now… don’t cry… Hey…” Victor leaned down and hugged her. All he wanted was to make it better - and he had no idea how.

“Stop! Stop.. please.”

Victor pulled away from her. “I’m sorry… I…”

“No.. it just… I can’t… I can’t deal… it,” she choked out as her head swam again. She felt a thumping in her throat, her heart racing. She couldn’t quite breathe, and the room was beginning to make her nauseous with constant swerving.

“It’s okay, Blue… just try ‘ta stay calm, okay?”

Trying to do her best to listen, Muse shut her eyes and let out a trembling breath. Victor reached out to touch her again, but stopped, and pulled his hand back and stood up slowly. “It’s good to have you back, Muse…”

Aaron sat behind the wheel of his Jeep, staring at the dingy motel in front of him. He debated sleeping in his car again, as he had done the past six days. His neck was starting to ache from a muscle cramp as a result. Letting out a long breath, he shook his head. He didn’t have any money - all he had was the credit card his brother had given him a month prior. Turning the card over in his hand, he let out a long sigh and rested his head back against the seat.

He hated his brother. He hated his brother passionately. But even now, he found himself dependent on him. Aaron wondered if Isaac would track him if he used the credit card - he wondered idly if it mattered. Isaac could find him anyway, it didn’t matter if he hid or not. All he’d need to do is go looking. Another painful twitch from the back of his neck made the decision for him.

Finally turning his Jeep off, Aaron climbed out of the car, the gravel of the driveway crunching underfoot. The buzz of the parking lot lights instantly grated on his already shot nerves. Checking into the sleazy motel, he wandered into the room that the man behind the counter had indicated. He collapsed onto the bed with a sigh. Even the shitty mattress was better than the jeep.

Running away. You know, you can’t really run from something that’s in your head. Unless you cut your head off and then ran away from it, but… that’s a trick. Trust me - I know.

Aaron shot up from the bed, a growl forming in the back of his throat. That strange, almost familiar voice again. But who was it?

“Isaac?!” Aaron snarled.

No answer came. But memories did.

“Isaac!” he yelled. “Isaac, you promised!”

The sound of footsteps coming down the hallway was followed by the door to his bedroom opening. There, standing in the doorway, was his brother. Aaron had just turned nine, and it confused him how his bigger brother was so much older than him. He had tried explaining it once, but it made little sense to him.

“Did I now?”

“Uh-huh. You said if I did like you told me, and didn’t get mad and break anything, you’d tell me a story,” Aaron insisted, folding his arms across his chest. He wasn’t going to let Isaac’s obsession with his weird books and smelly objects distract from what was really important. “And I didn’t break anything!”

“I suppose you are right. Woe, I have been defeated by your faultless logic,” Isaac said with a small laugh. “Forgive me for forgetting, little brother. I was listening to the radio. It seems the Versailles Treaty has just been signed, which I find-“

“The what? They did what to the what?” he blinked. Isaac always talked over his head. He had a suspicion that he did it on purpose.

“Yes. Right, well, never mind. So… you want a story do you?” The older man walked into the room, unbuttoned his vest and sat down on the edge of Aaron’s bed, a thoughtful look on his face.

“You never finished the one from last week, I wanna know what happened!”

“Want to. You want to know. Really, Aaron, you must not slur your words so.”

“Hrmf,” Aaron pouted, shooting Isaac a glare through his curly hair, eliciting a chuckle from him.

“Very well, let’s see… where did I leave off… Ah yes. There Dante and Virgil stood at the gates to the City of Dis. But they could not enter, as the gates were locked to them. Then, there over the gates, appeared three furies-“

“Furies?”

“Ah,” Isaac blinked. “’Erinyes’ in the Greek mythos. Winged female monsters who sought vengeance against those who broke promises, vows, or other such things.”

“Well, it’s a good thing you didn’t break your promise.”

“I suppose it is, isn’t it?” Isaac chuckled. “Now stop interrupting me, or we’ll never get through this…”

Aaron put his palms over his eyes and let out a slow, wavering breath - using every ounce of control and trick that he had been taught. The memory came back too vividly. He could still almost remember the smell of that room, of the house - all dust and old paper. As much as he hated Isaac, he missed those times.

Aww, how cute… Canto nine makes the weirdest bedtime story ever, but, whatever.

It was a figment of his imagination. Nothing was wrong. He heard nothing. Just playing tricks on himself. All he needed was a good night’s sleep.

Beep.

Muse pulled in a breath and opened her eyes.

Beep.

“Nngh,” she grunted and turned her head to try and focus on the offending machine. She realized through the drug-induced haze that the goddamn machine was what woke her up. She imagined herself shutting the machine off several times - actually convincing her through the haze that she had done it. But, then the bubble would pop, and it would beep again, revealing her mind had made up her success. She stared uselessly at it as it kept beeping. She slowly reached out, wincing slightly as she did and fumbled for the off switch. She finally, with far more effort than she should have needed, managed to press the switch down, the noise and the lights dying out with a small flicker.

She laid her head back and looked up at the ceiling. The room smelled like cleaning solvents and that acrid odor that comes with hospitals. That’s where she could only assume she was. But why?

She was alive. Was she? She didn’t know what else was happening. Maybe she finally went crazy. Whatever had happened, she quickly decided one thing. It wasn’t fair. All this wasn’t fair. It hurt, and she wanted nothing more than for the pain to just go away. She let out a huff of breath and struggled to sit up. Three attempts later, and she finally succeeded in pushing herself upright. Her head - and her stomach - swirled in response. She groaned and sat the for a moment as the room quieted down.

Muse looked down at her arm and wrapped her right hand around the IV in her left. Preparing herself for what was about to happen, she took in a slow breath. Yanking, she nearly gagged in pain as the needle tore out of her arm. She watched as a small dot of blood formed where the needle had been. She poked the spot of blood with her finger.

Blood. She was bleeding. That about proved it, didn’t it? She was alive… she supposed. The sight of the blood made her want to cry, but it only succeeded in creating a hard lump at the back of her throat. She quickly wiped the blood off on the sheet, desperate to be rid of it.

Letting out a resolute sigh, she pulled the rest of the tubing and patches with wires off her body and tossed them aside weakly. Shoving the covers aside, she turned in the bed and felt her feet hit the floor. It was cold. She looked down at herself - why in the hell was she wearing pink pajamas?!

She sat there for a moment, trying to piece her memories together. Clearly, she had done something to piss Isaac off. Oh, right. Michael. She had interrupted Isaac. Then, she remembered Isaac yelling… then she was yelling… and then everything got blurry. She rubbed her hand through her hair slowly, wincing at the feeling of her hair against her hand. She remembered waking up and seeing Victor. Everything was hazy - she couldn’t tell quite what was a real memory and what was a hallucination. Something about Mal coming in and insisting that ‘the best he could find was pink leopard print.’

Muse sighed.

Christ this is humiliating… Alright. Muse. Focus. You can do this.

Muse pushed her hands down onto the bed and struggled to stand. She failed the first few attempts, then finally got herself vertical. Gripping hard onto the IV stand to hold herself up, she let her weight settle onto her bare feet. She took a deep breath as her stomach swirled.

Okay, good… vertical… progress… now walk.

She slowly, teetering, made her first few steps forward. Letting go of the IV, she wavered and crashed to the ground with a hard thump.

“Ow… Hello, floor..” Muse rasped out quietly. She sighed and rolled onto her back.

Fail. Okay. Try again.

One limb at a time, she managed to slowly get back to her feet - the room’s spinning and wavering threatening to send her back to the floor at any moment. She felt so goddamn weak. She walked slowly towards the sink by one wall and gripped the counter. She ran her hand along the metal, feeling its cold, smooth surface. Still, she couldn’t help but focus on one overwhelming need. She desperately needed to be away from here. Okay, that and she needed to fix the dry lump in her throat.

“This isn’t fair…”

HmmmmmMM? What’s not fair?

Muse spun around and nearly toppled to the ground. Once again, she found herself gripping on for dear life. Peering around, she realized no one was there. But she had heard someone. She had to have.

“Hello?”

No one. Now I’m really losing my mind…

Muse slowly turned back around and twisted the knob on the sink. Dry lump in her throat first, walking out of here second. Seeing as the later was probably not going to happen, she could at least try for the former. She watched the water flow down around the drain, her mind wandering away. She stuck her hand under it and shuddered, feeling the cold water run through her fingers. She cupped her hands into the sink and bent her head down. Drinking water was a lot more intense than she had remembered it - the cold water stung in her throat. She lifted her head to look in the mirror. Brushing her blue hair back away from her face, she saw the blonde close to her scalp.

“Figures… you don’t believe you’re alive… until you notice your roots have grown out,” she quietly said to her reflection.

She shut her eyes and dropped her head slightly, biting back tears. She shook her head. It was pointless to cry, as it didn’t help anything. Suck it up. Muse stumbled towards the door. Leaning heavily on the wall, she started to slowly stumble down the hallway - fighting for each step.

She somehow made it down the hallway without anyone seeing her - it must be pretty late. The windows were dark, that was her only indication of time. Gripping onto anything she could for support, she finally came across a door labeled ‘Parking Lot.’ She heard the sound of rain pattering outside, and had the sudden urge to be outdoors. Using all her weight, she pushed the door open and stepped out, protected from the rain by the short overhang.

Holding her hand out, she felt the rain hit her skin. Pulling her hand back sharply, she couldn’t repress a shudder. No. You have to do this. Taking a slow wavering breath, she put her hand back out into the rain. She shut her eyes, focusing on the sensation of the cold wet rain running onto her hand and dripping off. She forced herself to feel it, forced herself to deal with the sensation, listening to the rain plinking off of the metal bench next to her and the sound of traffic somewhere nearby.

Taking a few slow, nervous steps out, she felt the grit of the stone under her feet, the smell of wet grass and the cool press of damp air. The rain started to hit her, the cold drops like small needlepoints. Her vision swam dangerously, threatening to give out on her. No. Willpower alone kept her vertical. Trembling, she stood there in the rain, the feeling of the water hitting her for the first time in twenty years almost too much for her to take. The scent of the grass - she only remembered it before.

The lamp overhead cast a pale circle onto the pavement. Past that, she could only see the circles of light cast by the other lamps in the parking lot. Everything between, everything behind - black. Nothing but darkness. She took another staggering step forward, and another. Each step was a task, each step was a struggle. She started walking smoother, finding the will to stay balanced. Finally, after how long she didn’t know - she made it to the last circle of lamplight, staring out into the woods by the parking lot.

Standing in the grass, she felt the cold wet blades of grass curl around her feet, clinging to her skin. The rain was starting to soak her, but she didn’t care. She needed to see it, to see the darkness in front of her, hear nothing but the sound of rain.

Before - no matter how dark the night - she could always see. The trees, the grass, everything gave off a glow. All she could see was the rain, and a patch of wet grass. Beyond that? Nothing. Just a cold, damp darkness. Her mind was all at once a flurry of every possible thought and yet and none of them at the same time. She couldn’t latch on to a single thing, no matter how hard she tried. It was all too much, all too strong to focus on.

Muse fell to her knees into the wet grass, feeling the water pour down her body. She wasn’t sure when she began to cry - wasn’t sure when she began to sob - wasn’t sure when she began to shake from the cold. She wasn’t sure when she felt a blanket wrap around her body, and two large arms slip around her and lift her up off the ground, holding her like a small toy to a much larger frame.

“C’mon Blue… no sense havin’ you get pneumonia…”