Chapter 88: A Flickering Shadow

Pain.

Head, face, arms, back, everything was burning and pulsing and twitching, some of it so far away as to feel like the memory of pains long since past. Quentin lay there, unable to move. Just the thought of moving hurt worse. What he really wanted was to sleep. Sleep always made the pain better. Maybe he healed faster in his sleep too.

“Quentin, wake up,” a familiar voice said. Razia patted his cheeks, stopping when he winced and moaned. Fuck, was his cheek broken? How bad…Why was she crying?

“Quentin you have to wake up!” she insisted.

Why? Why wake up when he was this tired?

Some of the pain faded into the background, as far away as when he overloaded on numbing gel. It was cold like numbing gel too. “I’m okay,” he tried to say. His mouth wouldn’t cooperate and all that came out was a groan.

Another flare of pain and the sword was pulled out of him. “Quentin, you need to heal. Can do you do that for me? Heal the damage right now.”

Oh right, he could do that. Hell, he had done that. Quentin was pretty sure Christophe broke his back, but a quick burst of healing and he could move again. Sort of. He tried to focus on the pain. It wasn’t difficult when it was everywhere. But when he tried to single some of it out, his entire body protested, agony swiftly burning itself out. He slumped to the ground.

He opened his eyes, or at least tried to. His right eye forced its way open, breaking through a seal of crusting blood. Razia took up his entire world, spinning in a trio of pretty faces. She didn’t look really pretty right then. When she stopped spinning, he saw tears pouring down her face. On either side of her was Jonas and Bruce, both looking grim.

“Hurts,” he managed to get out before the exhaustion nearly bowled him over. The world got dark. Something about that was alarming, something he couldn’t put his finger on. It felt like he was slipping, falling into himself, deeper and deeper where he could never come out again.

Realization hit him. “No,” he groaned, trying to move. He twitched and fell back to the ground. This was it. After decades of doing it to others, it would be idiotic of him not to recognize it. He was dying.

“Raz…Razia,” Quentin put all of his strength into it. Panic gripped him, wild and awake, but the spark of energy didn’t last long.

“I’m here,” she said, taking his hand.

“I don’t want…” he swallowed. It was hard to talk now. “I don’t want…to forget.”

She looked at him, confused at first. Razia’s heart broke in front of him. Tears pricked his eyes, just more burning in a sea of fading pain. He was losing time.

Quentin gathered all of his remaining strength. “I don’t want to forget you.” In his mind he reached for her, but his body failed him. He fell, and the blackness claimed him.