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angstyaches · 2 months ago

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The Hexagon: Aftermath, Part One

Hexagon Parts 1 - 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5

This is a long one (4,000+). It's a lot of general recovery stuff, with a bit of rare Charlie/Ryan interaction.

Also, please note that I am in no way a medical professional (and neither is Ryan).

CW: effects of hunger/exhaustion/dehydration, passing out, slightly medical setting, injury (burns), nausea, mention of emeto, anxiety, refeeding, mention of blood drinking, stomach noises, embarrassment/awkwardness, demonic possession, fear for CT's wellbeing.

___

The last stretch of the car ride felt like the longest, and yet Charlie felt stuck in a daze. He couldn’t sleep anymore, no matter how badly he wanted to. What mental energy he had, he was channeling into not crying, not throwing up, not panicking over the sickening fear he felt, that he would suddenly be flung from a dream and back into the forest. Into the hexagon.

He must have drawn a loud, shaky breath or something, because Shayne tilted his head to try to look at him.

“You okay?”

Charli nodded. “I’m...”

Whatever the end of that sentence was supposed to be, it didn’t make it to his lips. He wasn’t even sure why that was, exactly. He just wanted his bed. He wanted his parents. He wanted to be alone with Shayne so they could cry and process everything at their own speed.

He most certainly did not want to see Ryan Aldridge waiting in the driveway as Elliott pulled up to the townhouse.

There was no delicate way of putting it; Charlie had never stopped finding Ryan abjectly terrifying. He liked to think he’d done a decent job of acclimatising to a world that consisted of demons, demon eaters, witches, shifters, and vampires, but the most ancient vampire he’d ever met still send tendrils of cold through his body. She never smiled. She never looked angry. She never made any sudden movements. And she had never transitioned away from calling him Mr. Waters. Then again, he’d always been too terrified to ask her to call him anything else, so maybe that one was on him.

In his fragile state, she was probably the last person he wanted to see right now.

She was standing in the driveway of the townhouse, holding a black parasol to shield her face from the sun. She was wearing a crisp white pantsuit that washed out her unnaturally pale skin even more. For a woman trying so hard to block out UV rays, she looked like she should have come with her own light sensitivity warning.

Elliott pulled up the handbrake and whipped off his sunglasses. The engine rumbled down to silence, finishing off with a whine from the air conditioning. Ingrid had been reminding Trevor to get that checked out for months.

“Oh, god.” Charlie’s breath caught in his throat. “I-I need to tell my car where his dad is.”

“You... mean your dad where –?”

“My dad where his c-car is.”

“Charlie,” Shayne muttered. “I’m sure they’re far more worried about you than the fucking car.”

Charlie blinked, the movement happening far too slowly. The way Ryan Aldridge would blink. Probably. The thought of his parents worrying about him, unable to contact him, put a surge of panic right into the centre of his chest cavity. The way his mother’s face, her entire being, had collapsed inwards on that night three years ago, when he’d told them what he –

Charlie jumped. The door next to him had been opened. Switching to autopilot, he slid out of the back seat and promptly forgot how to use his legs.

Somebody – Shayne? Elliott? Ryan? – grabbed him, to keep him from sagging to the ground. Maybe CT had managed to pull themself together and levitate him.

CT? he whispered internally, and a cold wave of black swarmed his vision. It seeped into his every thought, his memories of the past few days, flashes of childhood visits to the sea. Bubbles of pressure pushed up against his lungs, inside and out.

Lights exploded in the darkness. His stomach heaved.

His mind stretched on and on, and Charlie followed it, until he could feel the demon submerged in that same smothering darkness. They weren’t reaching back towards him.

Still, Charlie took some semblance of relief in feeling the low, thrumming pressure of them.

Come back to me, Charlie pleaded. When you’re ready.

___

When he opened his eyes, he was on his back, but not in a pile of pine needles. Not on the concrete driveway in front of the townhouse, either. A white ceiling enclosed the room, where he’d half-expected to see drifting treetops through a purple gloss.

Charlie savoured it for a few seconds. He had missed being inside. The older he got, the more sure he became that he had been put on this earth to be inside, to be cosy and warm and in soft lighting.

The lighting here was not soft, though, and Charlie’s eyes protested as he tried to have a look around.

Some kind of thin, narrow bed was stretched out beneath him, as though he had fallen asleep on an examining table. He could feel that his hoodie and Converse were gone, but his damp, three-day-old jeans and t-shirt still clung to his skin. Nausea rolled over him in cold waves, and he realised he was sweating. Was it always this warm when there was no natural breeze blowing through?

With the glow of gratitude fading fast, Charlie turned his head. It felt like trying to shove his face through quicksand, but it was worth it.

A few feet away, a leather chair sat across from the front of a massive, light oak desk. Shayne was standing behind the chair, resting his weight against its back. He was looking down, his eyelids heavy, and was attempting to wrap something around his hand.

Elliott stood at the other side of the room, by the door, arms crossed, looking off into the middle distance. His aviators hung from the front of his shirt.

Ryan had shed her parasol and one layer of her white suit. She was organising medical equipment on a plastic trolley. Her wavy white hair had been scraped back into a bulldog clip to keep it from falling into her face. Charlie hadn’t thought it was possible for the woman to look even more severe, but now he missed the softening curls that normally framed her face.

He didn’t recognise the room, but he assumed it was Ryan office. Shayne had mentioned it to him several times in the past. Aside from books, the only decorations were a couple of deer skulls mounted on stands, and a square wall clock that, Charlie realised as soon as he noticed it, ticked obnoxiously in the quiet. And the walls, the carpet, the bookshelves, almost everything was clean and white.

Of course it would be, Charlie thought, squinting his eyes to fight off the pulsing headache.

This was where Shayne had first been medically assessed by Ryan, and where he had finally managed to tell them the truth about Madelyn and his eating issues. It felt a little bit bizarre that Charlie now had his own story to tell about this room. The time they got trapped in the forest and had to be rescued by Elliott.

Except... They hadn’t been rescued by Elliott, had they? Someone had taken down the wards and allowed them to escape.

Shayne had never quite explained that one, Charlie realised. Only now did that make Charlie feel a bit uneasy.

As though he had been thinking the same thing, Shayne’s eyes swiveled anxiously upwards. His gaze softened, though, when he realised that Charlie was awake. He lurched away from the leather chair.

“Hey, love.”

“Hey,” Charlie breathed.

Shayne closed the distance, his wrapped hand gently – messily – pushing Charlie’s hair back from his eyes. Charlie closed his eyes and groaned softly as his forehead was kissed.

“Are you okay?”

Before Charlie could respond, Ryan turned towards them. A stethoscope hung from her neck. If she was surprised at Charlie’s departure into consciousness, her face had no intention of showing it.

“As I have said, Mr. Waters is dehydrated. His body has entered a state of adaptive ketosis. I will continue to monitor his vitals while he rests and is gradually reintroduced to food and fluids.”

At the mention of food, Charlie felt a strange ripple go through the walls of his stomach. It had to be hunger, and yet there was the slightest tinge of acid in the back of his throat, as though he might be sick as soon as he tried to swallow anything.

Shayne rolled his eyes, his eyelashes fluttering uneasily. His grip on Charlie’s hand was weak. “Are you okay, love?” he asked again.

Charlie nodded, though he felt a stuttering echo of that panicked feeling in his chest. Nausea twisted in his stomach, heightened by the white lights. The absence of CT’s voice panged, not just in his head but throughout his body.

He shifted on his back.

“Want to sit up?” Shayne asked.

Charlie nodded again.

As he moved, he found a drip connected to his arm. His own right hand had also been bandaged, all the way up to the tips of his fingers, where he’d touched the wards and blistered his skin. His movement unsettled a large, white basin that had been lying next to him. Shayne reached out to steady it before it could fall off the – he was literally lying on an examining table.

Was it normal for Elder vampires to own examining tables?

A smell suddenly wafted towards Charlie, conjuring up memories of various kitchens throughout his teenage years, all of them different, and yet the hearty aroma of his dad’s chicken casserole was the same in each one. After this, maybe he would study remotely for a few weeks, spend some time with his parents, if they were happy to have him. Maybe ask his dad to teach him his casserole recipe.

After hearing what Ryan had said about a gradual introduction to food, he had a feeling that what he was smelling now was more likely to be some kind of broth. After almost three days, though, he’d take what he was given.

“My... my parents.” Stars blinked in and out of his vision as he tried to focus on not letting his head sway back and forth. He mustn’t have done a great job, because Shayne’s bandaged hand came to rest against his cheek, and Charlie inadvertently leaned into it. He rubbed at his eyes, and found tears had gathered there.

“Miss McDonagh has been tasked with informing Ingrid and Trevor Waters of the situation.” Ryan glanced at her silver watch. The clock face rested on the inside of her wrist. “I should expect she will be speaking with them presently.”

“Miss McDonagh?” Elliott scoffed. Charlie had almost forgotten he was there. “Odd thing to call your lover, but alright.”

Ryan ignored him. So did Charlie. He looked at Shayne. “Is that...?”

“Lucy,” Shayne nodded.

Charlie exhaled. He didn’t exactly trust this counsellor, who he’d never met, but he trusted Shayne. He swallowed, his throat feeling like grit.

“Is... she here, at the townhouse?” Shayne was looking at Ryan as she worked. “Does that mean Nancy’s back, too?”

Ryan pushed the trolley a little closer. The chicken broth smell became stronger.

“Um.” Shayne reached across himself and held his waist. The gauze on his right hand was already unraveling. “Ryan?”

“Shayne.” She dismissed him with a calm, fluid shake of her head. “Since you will not allow me to examine you, there is currently no need for you for you to be present.”

“Wait.” Charlie’s stomach lurched, both at the prospect of being left alone with Ryan, and at what she’d said. He tried to catch Shayne’s eye. “You wouldn’t let her check on you?”

Shayne scowled. He looked down and rubbed his thumb against Charlie’s wrist, sending tingles across his skin. “I’m fine. You’re the one who collapsed in the driveway. And threw up on your shoes.”

“I –” Charlie grimaced. He couldn’t remember throwing up, but with the way his tummy had felt after the flat Coke, and the way he felt now, it definitely sounded like something that could have happened. That would explain the basin, too.

It also spoke volumes that he didn’t even worry about his Converse being ruined.

“I want to stay with Charlie. I can be useful –”

“Elliott?” Nothing shifted in Ryan’s expression, and yet Shayne sucked in a breath as though he were being told off. “Would you terribly mind relieving me of this one?”

As he peeled himself away from the far wall, Elliott looked just as surprised to be summoned as Shayne looked betrayed.

Ryan picked up a deep, heavy mug from the trolley. Her fingers splayed delicately as she turned to pass it to Elliott. Charlie watched it go and felt his heart drop; rationally, he knew there would be more, and he would never take food away from Shayne, but Charlie’s stomach was starting to cramp up impatiently. It felt less like hunger and more like a burning anxiety over being so empty for so long.

Ryan took a few more things from the trolley and thrust them towards Elliott. He wrapped a fist around the mug handle, but still managed to make it look precarious. He tucked everything else under his armpit so he could plant a hand on Shayne’s shoulder.

“Come on.”

“Really?” Shayne snarled at him.

“Really.” Elliott directed him towards the door. “Charlie’s in good hands, and those hands will be even better if you’re not in here being a nuisance.”

“See you later, lovely,” Charlie half-smiled. He hated feeling so helpless to do anything else about the worried look on Shayne’s face. He didn’t realise how pathetic he must have looked, keeping his eyes trained on Shayne’s back, until Elliott had finished herding him out of the room, until the door clicked shut behind them.

And then, for the first time in his life, he was alone with a vampire.

“Are you in any pain?”

Charlie jumped. “I-I’m sorry, what?”

“Are you in any pain?”

Was it his imagination, or had she spoken more slowly when she’d repeated herself? Was she being sarcastic? Pointing out that he was a lowly, pathetic human, while she was an all-knowing Elder vampire? Was this a power play?

“Mr. Waters?”

Charlie flinched again, his heart stuttering.

“I apologise for instructing Shayne to leave. I realise how that might be... uncomfortable for you.”

Guilt seeped into Charlie’s gut. Was it that obvious?

“In your condition, it is best for both of you to be in calm, quiet environments.”

“Right. He needs to rest, too,” he said quietly. That was what she was getting at, right? That she was focused on tending to Charlie, but that she also cared for Shayne? She had protected him from Madelyn for this long, after all, and while Shayne was still a walking sack of issues, his mental and physical health had both improved a lot since living with her.

That’s what you would tell me, isn’t it, CT? You’d be telling me to get over my stupid hang-ups and do what’s best in the moment?

“Are you in any pain, Mr. Waters?”

Charlie took a deep breath and nodded. “My hand. My stomach. My head, the... the lights are hurting my eyes.”

“My apologies again.” Ryan walked stiffly to the door and twisted a dimmer switch. The lights softened all at once, and although his head still ached, the buzzing pressure in Charlie’s eyes eased. He didn’t have to squint anymore.

“Thank you.”

She crossed the room again, dipping behind her large desk. As he watched her, Charlie now realised that she had a fridge in the back corner. The door was clear glass, and inside, what looked like tiny bottles of wine sat on a wire shelf.

Charlie felt his stomach gurgle as he realised that those probably weren’t tiny bottles of wine. He looked away as Ryan reach inside, towards a lower shelf that was blocked from his view anyway.

“I would like to take your blood pressure now that you are awake.”

Charlie nodded stiffly, gaze glued to the floor. He glanced to the side, holding perfectly still, as Ryan wheeled over a blood pressure monitor – seriously, who had a blood pressure monitor ready to go at a moment’s notice? – and strapped the reader around his upper arm. He tried to control his breathing as the machine tightened. Would his anxiety mess up the results of this?

Ryan was suddenly standing directly in front of him, staring down her nose. There was an uncapped bottle of water in her hand.

“Oh...” Charlie stammered and took the bottle. The condensation immediately started to seep into his bandage, so he passed it into his left hand. “Thank you.”

“Do not drink too quickly. Your digestive tract will not be capable of processing it yet.”

Charlie nodded, trying not to think of that quarter-bottle of Coke and how it was now splattered across the Aldridges’ driveway along with his stomach acid. He lifted the bottle to his mouth and swished it lightly. He barely let his lips get wet, despite the clawing dryness in his throat.

Ryan moved back to his side and unstrapped the blood pressure monitor. Charlie squeezed in a couple more miniscule sips of water, but found himself taking a little more each time. Ryan didn’t share the readings with him. Good. Too much bodily data could make Charlie feel squeamish, and between the hunger-nausea and the chilled cabinet full of what he could only assume was actual human blood, he didn’t need anything else stirring up his stomach. His water was only just starting to settle in, and it would be a shame to lose it all again.

Ryan unhooked the stethoscope from around her neck. “Please lift your shirt at the back.”

Charlie fumbled it a bit, with his gauzed hand and his water bottle, but was grateful that Ryan didn’t try to lift it herself. He winced as she pressed the metal chest piece to the centre of his back.

“Breathe in.”

Charlie did. He fought the urge to let the breath stutter back out prematurely as water and bile clogged his throat.

“And out.”

She asked him to do this several times before moving the stethoscope to his chest. The thought of her listening to the pumping of his heart made Charlie tremble. Was she picturing sucking the blood from his veins like straws? Would she tell him she needed a blood sample for medical reasons, stick him with a needle, and drain him dry before he even realised what was happening?

Grrrrrroar.

Charlie’s eyes widened, his hand clenching around his water bottle. By the sounds of it, his stomach was only just becoming aware of its newly-acquired contents. His eyes flicked towards Ryan’s face as she continued listening to his heart. If he had heard his own tummy rumbling, then she had heard it with her vampiric hearing and had most definitely heard it through the stethoscope. Her face didn’t give her away. She hadn’t even flinched, despite how horrifically loud it must have been. She continued listening to his heartbeat, and then swiftly turned, removing her earpieces, to write down the result.

Something in Charlie’s chest suddenly unclenched. This whole time, he’d thought of Ryan as nothing but a vampire, whereas he should have been thinking of her as a... Well, maybe not a doctor, as he wasn’t sure she had any actual qualifications, but certainly a caregiver.

She removed the chest piece and stood off to the side again. Charlie allowed himself a couple more sips of water, laying a hand on his stomach to ward off any uneasiness. He could feel his belly churning, but no cramping, which had to be a good sign.

“You may cover yourself, Mr. Waters.”

“Charlie,” Charlie said softly. He tugged his t-shirt back into place.

“Next, I will give you a cup of light broth. It is important that you do not consume it too hastily, or –”

“I-I know. It could make me sick.”

Ryan gave a curt nod as she turned towards her trolley. Charlie flushed a little at himself for interrupting, but he was a teacher’s pet at heart and knew deep down he’d never let go of that need to seem like he was paying attention, participating, understanding the assignment.

He was also dying to get his hands on something warm and nourishing. His mouth, now that he had the barest amount of fluids in his body, watered as he watched Ryan pick up a mug of broth.

“Is there anything else in particular that is concerning you?” She paused as she handed him the mug, easing the bottle of water from his hand so he could hold it steady. She capped the bottle and turned to leave it on the trolley.

It took Charlie a minute to answer her question. Maybe two or three. He gently sipped on the broth, and even though he knew he had to take his time, he struggled to keep himself from drinking it any faster. He wondered if he could feel the broth literally warming his insides as it slipped down his throat, or if the relief of finally feeling safe was only just setting into his body.

He tentatively felt for CT, but still felt no energy coming back from them.

Charlie lowered the mug to his lap. The light flavour of the broth stuck to his tongue and he fought to swallow it down as tears pricked his eyes.

“I can’t talk to Charlie Too.”

Ryan had busied herself with tidying up her equipment as he’d been drinking. She was standing behind her desk, sliding a beige folder onto a shelf filled with other, disturbingly similar, beige folders.

“That’s what we call the demon that I –”

“I am aware.” Ryan smoothly turned her head. “Perhaps this is the reason for Shayne’s questions regarding Nancy’s time of arrival. She has limited knowledge on the topic of demons, but regardless is the greatest source of knowledge at our disposal.”

“Oh.” Charlie’s heart fluttered. “Maybe. I-I assumed he wanted to ask her if she knew anything about the trap.”

It may have been Charlie’s imagination, but Ryan’s chin seemed to lower slightly, her eyes sharpening. He almost choked on nothing as fear spiked in his gut.

“Not – not that we thought she set it,” Charlie sputtered. “Just –”

There was a sharp knock at the door. Without waiting for a response, someone hurried into the room.

She was pale and a little curvy, with cotton-candy pink hair tied in two low, messy pigtails. Her shoulders were hunched, and she kept a hold of the door handle. Her other hand hovered over her chin as she cast her eyes about the room.

“H-hi, Ryan, I...” She grimaced as she caught Charlie’s eye. “Hi. Charlie?”

Charlie nodded. “Lucy?”

Her grimace widened. “Hi. So, your mother and father are fine. I explained the situation, and they’re coming to get you tomorrow. I assured them that you’re in great hands.”

Charlie swallowed over the urge to belch, trying not to let his anxiety show on his face. Tomorrow felt too far away. Separated from Shayne and frozen out by CT, all he wanted was to see his parents’ faces. “Thank you.”

“I would also like to schedule a meeting between the two of you,” Ryan cut in. She folded her arms. Her gaze swiveled from Lucy to Charlie. “A debriefing following your ordeal. Tomorrow morning, once you have had some rest.”

Charlie tried to nod, to be a good student and show that he understood the value of Ryan’s suggestion. He flinched as another bubble of pressure rose up through his chest, muffling the burp with the back of his hand.

“T-tomorrow morning, you said, Ryan?” Lucy said slowly. She took a step back, still clutching the door handle.

“We will finalise the details later.”

“Okay. Well, it’s – uh, been nice to meet you, Charlie. I’ll – I’ll just...” Lucy pointed with her thumb before backing out of the room, pulling the door shut with her.

Alarm grew in Charlie’s mind; he hadn’t expected a qualified counsellor to slink about, acting like an embarrassed teenager. Charlie very much hoped she hadn’t been like this when she’d been on the phone with his parents.

Doesn’t really matter, he thought to himself as he took a sip from his mug. And to CT, he thought, Everything’s going to be okay.

He had to believe hard enough for both of them now.

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