Edwin Payne (
technicallyhellbound) wrote2025-02-14 06:37 pm
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for @convincingsmile - Nobody's dying today (probably)
Edwin knew as soon as he fell through the mirror that something was wrong, and not just a little bit wrong, but the kind of wrong that made the whole world tilt on its axis a little.
It wasn't a misdirected portal, not like the case that had ultimately led them to Crystal, not like many other failures of concentration when traversing mirror portals before, it was something else, and he couldn't place what it was. All he knew was that he'd simply passed through the mirror in question and had landed, hard on the floor on the other side of the room, hard enough that he actually skidded a couple of feet and that couldn't be right because that actually hurt, and hurt in the way he hadn't felt in... well, decades.
It was enough to tumble him against the far wall just from his own momentum, impacting hard enough to knock the breath out of his lungs, and that was definitely wrong, because he shouldn't have had breath or lungs. He could see, even through pain-hazed vision that the poltergeist he'd been baiting had, indeed, gotten caught in the trap he himself had leapt over when aiming for the mirror.
That was, however, the last thing he saw before the half-rotted-through loft floor gave way beneath his sudden and unexpected weight, sending him falling, flailing, scraped to ribbons on the broken slats, to the ground below, and he was reasonably sure he'd actually heard something snap on impact, ribs, if the sudden radiating pain was anything to go by, though his shoulder wasn't in good shape either, and that was an entirely different kind of pain, just layering on top of the feeling of the ragged scratches from the wood, and it occurred to him, dimly, that he'd forgotten how much he hated the feeling of blood on his skin.
It had been different in Hell, the pain, the sensations in general, all of it, it had been horrible, yes, but it was so much more visceral now, and even as his vision began to go hazy again, head swimming, his last thoughts were trying to remember how he'd somehow gotten separated from Charles, who had been barely a step behind him when he'd rounded the corner into the loft pursued by the poltergeist now trapped securely above him.
It wasn't a misdirected portal, not like the case that had ultimately led them to Crystal, not like many other failures of concentration when traversing mirror portals before, it was something else, and he couldn't place what it was. All he knew was that he'd simply passed through the mirror in question and had landed, hard on the floor on the other side of the room, hard enough that he actually skidded a couple of feet and that couldn't be right because that actually hurt, and hurt in the way he hadn't felt in... well, decades.
It was enough to tumble him against the far wall just from his own momentum, impacting hard enough to knock the breath out of his lungs, and that was definitely wrong, because he shouldn't have had breath or lungs. He could see, even through pain-hazed vision that the poltergeist he'd been baiting had, indeed, gotten caught in the trap he himself had leapt over when aiming for the mirror.
That was, however, the last thing he saw before the half-rotted-through loft floor gave way beneath his sudden and unexpected weight, sending him falling, flailing, scraped to ribbons on the broken slats, to the ground below, and he was reasonably sure he'd actually heard something snap on impact, ribs, if the sudden radiating pain was anything to go by, though his shoulder wasn't in good shape either, and that was an entirely different kind of pain, just layering on top of the feeling of the ragged scratches from the wood, and it occurred to him, dimly, that he'd forgotten how much he hated the feeling of blood on his skin.
It had been different in Hell, the pain, the sensations in general, all of it, it had been horrible, yes, but it was so much more visceral now, and even as his vision began to go hazy again, head swimming, his last thoughts were trying to remember how he'd somehow gotten separated from Charles, who had been barely a step behind him when he'd rounded the corner into the loft pursued by the poltergeist now trapped securely above him.
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He gave the waistcoat a baleful look, because while he wanted the comfort of his usual layers, wanted something to be normal, he knew that he wouldn't be able to manage both that and his jacket, and of the two the jacket was the more important.
It was also why his brow creased a little at Charles' second offer, shaking his head and clasping Charles' elbow gently, "You'll need it. We can feel the cold now after all." He was thankful that in that area, at that hour, there wasn't likely to be anyone else about, which meant they were unlikely to draw attention, either.
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"Right, right," Charles swallowed. Then just took the waistcoat Edwin didn't put on and put it in the backpack. One less thing for him to carry. "But lean on me at least, yeah? Could be easier to walk like that," he said as he got up and offered a hand.
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As it was, he accepted the hand up, though almost reached for it with the injured side at first before correcting himself and using the other hand. He did blanch again, briefly, once he was on his feet, but he didn't sway the way he'd done when just sitting up from where he'd first hit the floor, though it was hard to say if that was a good sign or not.
Once he was steady all he had to say was: "Once we're outside we'll keep the river to our left and we'll be going the right direction."
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"I know London, Edwin," Charles assured in a sad smile. He sometimes roamed the streets when he couldn't calm down. Without the talent to mirror travel, he would often stick to walking. Sometimes he went the long way, and pretended he was alive. London was bustling and huge, but not to a ghost of thirty years walking its streets and longing for his steps to give a noise on the cobblestone. It shrunk but got further, in a way. "I know you know the map too," Charles added and squeezed Edwin's hand. "We'll be back soon, yeah?"
Oh and he wouldn't let go of Edwin's hand until they were back at the office, safe and sound.
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He nodded at the actual question, returning that gentle squeeze, loath to let go of Charles' hand, and thankful that Charles seemed to be of the same opinion.
He did have to stop to catch his breath twice along the way, both times trying to remind himself to move more slowly afterward, which he managed for a time, but ended up resuming his usual quicker walking pace before long. Upon arrival at the office, all he had to say was: "Not looking forward to the stairs." Before actually managing to slow himself down instead of taking them at his usual speed. He was wheezing faintly again by the time they were actually in the office proper, lowering himself gingerly to the sofa, canted forward, elbows resting on his knees, as if the angle might help regain his breath more easily.
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Thankfully they could get back to the office without being noticed. He held Edwin's hand during the walk and helped him up the stairs, and made sure he was fine as he helped him onto the sofa. And then Charles just stood there, feeling a little helpless.
"Where does it hurt?" he asked quietly.
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He let the breath out slowly again, still wheezing faintly on the exhale, "Back, same side as the shoulder. I landed hard." A little shake of his head, mostly because he knew his hip was probably going to be protesting later, after the fall and the walk, but for the moment it seemed alright.
His brow creased, trying another slow breath, finally shaking his head, "It's a bit like when I had asthma when I was still alive." Another little head-shake, "Alive before, I suppose."
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"You should lie down," Charles said, throwing his bag down. "'S gonna get worse," he added. "If I remember right," he added with a tired smile. Then he went to Edwin, putting his hand as gently as he could on his back. If he could he would have just gathered him into his arms and squeezed the life out of him but that wouldn't do so well for him at the moment. And Charles was dying inside. "I should get painkillers, eh? And water," he frowned.
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He shook his head at the suggestion of lying down, fishing the polaroids out of his jacket pocket, "I can't lie down just yet, I should at least start looking for these, the sooner I can figure out the array and the purpose of it, the sooner we can return to ourselves."
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"Edwin," he started and stepped in front of his friend, grabbing his hand that held the pictures. "You gotta rest first, just a tick, yeah?" he said more gently than he felt about it all. "The pictures won't go away and what if you make yourself worse?"
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It only occurred to him after he'd said it that wasn't necessarily an issue for Charles, who admittedly hated being dead and his expression folded in on itself a little, along with the rest of him, just sagging forward, dragging a hand up over his face and through his hair, "I'm sorry."
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"No, mate, don't be," Charles smiled sadly as he got to his knees in front of Edwin, holding onto his hand still. "I get it, yeah? You're always thinking of the worst-case scenario. But there was nothing you and your brain couldn't figure out." He smiled and kissed Edwin's fingers. He knew Edwin was fine as a ghost. His afterlife was much better and less lonely than his life. And just as Edwin could understand how Charles wished to be alive, Charles... could somewhat understand how Edwin preferred his spectral existence.
"I told you I don't mind being dead with you, but I also don't mind living the rest of my new life with you either..." he added. "But for both of those, you gotta rest."
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He wanted to argue for at least getting the books set out so he could start researching as soon as he was rested, but he also realized he was too physically exhausted even for that, didn't think he'd actually be able to get up again now that he was sitting. His brow creased a little, catching at Charles' hand more firmly, "Just... if it's obvious I'm having a nightmare, please wake me up? Don't let me sleep just because you think I need it?"
There were other things to worry about, certainly, like the possibility of his ribs actually being broken and not just cracked, that they might be causing actual damage to his lungs, but Charles had seen the shape Edwin's nightmares were likely to take, and Edwin would much rather suffer the physical pains than go through that again.
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So Charles just smiled, sniffing, and leaned in to kiss Edwin's lips again.
"Yeah, I won't let the Dreaming torture you," he assured. "I'll try to get some books for you for when you wake up, alright?" Maybe not the right books but he can make some guesses on what Edwin would want to check first.
"And, I think you'd do great being alive, Edwin," Charles added, as he offered the pills.
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"Thank you." It was quiet as the apology had been, but he still meant it. It took him a moment to get the right leverage to get the bottle of water open, but he did so, accepting the pills and swallowing them down easily enough. That done, he went about shedding his jacket, more careful of the injured shoulder than he had been before. He situated himself on the sofa, the way he usually sat when reading, half propped up against one arm because he did remember that laying flat only aggravated his asthma when he'd first been alive, and couldn't imagine that would be any different now.
"Intermediate runic arrays to start, and advanced alchemy, I think?" His brow creased, trying to determine what else he might need even as he was already feeling the pull of sleep tugging at the edges of his mind, "The Hendrick's Encyclopedia, the old edition, not the new." He blinked slowly, realizing he was already fading fast now that he was mostly comfortable, "There's another one. I can't think of it right now."
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"I know, Edwin, I know, relax," he chuckled as he walked back to Edwin. He gently put a hand on his shoulder, squeezing softly to try and assure him. "I'll get them. Sleep now," he smiled.
Charles waited by the sofa as Edwin fell asleep. And even a little after that. Because this was the first time he had seen him sleep. Usually, when they got exhausted they reduced to an orb. So Charles had never seen Edwin's sleeping face. And, however horrible the circumstances were, he still felt lucky that he could experience it. Without the always present frown, without the tight lips... Edwin almost looked younger even. And very handsome. Charles couldn't help laying a soft kiss on his forehead before going to the bookshelf to find all the books, and some more for him for when he woke up. He was also glad that he had a few moments to himself, where he could just weep a little. Because by god, he was worried, and then he was ecstatic, and then worried again, and now he was so, so tired...
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More than that, he slept for a solid six hours, barely even shifting the whole time, though for all that stillness, he still startled awake at the first light from the window creeping across his face, blinking wildly and gone startled-still for the few moments it took to actually register what had happened, to remember falling asleep in the first place, seemingly surprised to find himself in the same place he'd gone to sleep, "Charles?"
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He didn't exactly plan to sleep, not like this. Since the chair was occupied by books, he sat down on the floor leaning his shoulder against the sofa, watching Edwin for any kind of nightmare. And before he knew it, his head was resting on the seat, next to Edwin's body, and he fell asleep too.
He stirred a little when Edwin woke but still didn't fully wake.
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So he moved as carefully as possible, levering himself a little more fully upright against the arm of the sofa where he was, moving carefully, remembering to rely on his good arm rather than his dominant one as it was the one that was injured. Re-situated he gently shifted the blanket off of himself and over Charles instead, hesitating only briefly before trailing his fingers across the other boy's curls, smiling faintly at the sensation.
That done, however, he picked up the pictures to go over them again, flipping to a fresh page of his notebook to jot down the symbols as best he could, pulling the first book off the top of the stack to leaf through it for anything that would help.
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Charles felt a cold sensation sink in his stomach as he thought for a second that he had he had to get out of bed and face his father. Or his schoolmates. After all the adventures he went on with Edwin. But then a movement caught his eye and he turned his head just to see Edwin already hard at work.
Charles's eyes widened as he grabbed at Edwin's leg.
"You're okay? You didn't have a nightmare, right?" he asked, his words still slurring a little from sleep.
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His brow creased a little, taking in Charles' momentary distress before asking, "And you?" He'd been sleeping soundly as far as Edwin could tell, it was just waking up that had caused him to startle, almost as if he'd fallen asleep mid-duty, not that Edwin blamed him in the slightest.
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"Good... okay," Charles murmured, rubbing his red eyes. It's been a while since they felt like this, a little puffy. He sighed, looking around in their little office, sighing in relief. "'M fine," he said. "For a second I thought I've dreamt it all. But this isn't a dream, yeah?"
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He was definitely more terse about it than usual, and quite possibly because he was hungry and just hadn't recognized the sensation yet over the rest of his general discomfort.
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"Wh-" Charles blinked, then he had to realize it was him. His stomach. Growling. "Um," he frowned, then looked up at Edwin. "Mate," he started and had to stop himself for a moment before he continued saying the most absurd words. "I'm... hungry." It made sense but then it didn't. But it made more sense than it didn't.
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"There's the cafe down the street that Crystal likes, but I don't really think we should go walking in there looking like this. Honestly probably shouldn't go walking in anywhere, and i don't know if we've even got any petty cash left in the jar." They'd stopped keeping track of it at some point because they'd stopped needing it for things, "I don't suppose we really have any other options, though."
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