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"Please leave a message and I'll return it as soon as I'm able."

[if necessary, you can also leave a message for Ronan Lynch here]

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[It's only a day or two after everything had happened- the invasion, the attack, the feel of the knife in his hand, and then Gansey leaving before they could even put everything together again.

Ronan sighs, letting his eyes slip shut as he leans against the stretch of wall between his bedroom door and Adam's own. He hasn't really slept- though, to be fair it seems like none of them have. And how could they? Every time he closes his eyes, he remembers pressing a hand down against Adam's elbow, securing him down and putting his bodyweight on him with Gansey kneeling next to them both, his hands on Adam's shoulders, his eyes squeezed shut, and Ronan remembers Adam's arm in front of him and his hand-

He'd carried Adam to bed after that, curled up around him and held him for hours, maybe a day or more- he doesn't remember. All he knows is that when he went outside again, Gansey was gone.

He feels numb with it, almost. Traumatized by it, definitely. An interesting combination of both in a sensation that he's intimately familiar with. It's the same thing he felt the evening after finding his father's body in the driveway, the night after finding his mother's body in the field. Adam's left forearm is gone, and the stump of it had been healed closed by Gansey, but Ronan was the one who held the heavy knife.

It's been too long since he's been back to see Adam already. Ronan had left the room last maybe forty minutes ago- just enough to shower and grab a bite to eat- but he already wants to be back there, wants to be reassuring him like he has been for the past... however long it's been. He just needs a second.

Slowly, he pulls his arms out from behind him, digging he heels of his hands into his eyes to try to clear up his vision and resolve the murkiness behind his eyes, before bending over and grabbing at the glass of water and bowl of soup he'd brought with him.

It feels strange to knock but he does it anyway, just once, before slowly creaking the door open and stepping inside. Adam is still in bed, where Ronan had left him- he's not sure if the other boy has finally managed to doze off or not.]

...Adam?

[His voice is soft, barely a whisper as he creeps forward, bowl and glass in hand. Hopefully if Adam is asleep, it won't be enough to wake him.]

[Adam's thoughts feel scattered, loose. He needs to pull himself together, he needs to get over this and move on, and he knows that. Part of him is angry at himself for falling apart like this. He almost died, okay. He lost his hand, fine. That's no excuse for making himself useless, it's no excuse for making Ronan take care of him.

Another part of him, analytical and distant, knows that he's been through serious trauma. Physical shock is the least of it, and even that is significant. He can't expect or demand that he recover instantly, and he should not beat himself up because he's unable to do so.

But most of Adam is simply too scattered to focus on either of those things. This has happened before, at the worst of times with his father. It's like a step back from the world, removing himself so that he can stay whole. He focuses on his breathing instead, on Ronan's voice, on Cabewater's leaves curling against his skin. Not the empty place where his hand should be, not what almost happened.

He'll recover. He's nothing if not a survivor, and this - he can't do this for much longer. Ronan needs him to have his shit together, and so does everyone else. But for now, it's too much.

He wasn't sleeping. He rouses a little when Ronan comes in, and more when he speaks.]

I'm awake.

[His voice doesn't shake, but it's distant and soft, and a little hoarse. He doesn't remember screaming, but he's pretty sure he did.]

Hey.

[Ronan steps forward to set the bowl on the desk in the room, placing the glass of water down near it. His movements are slow, gentle, as if he's afraid that startling Adam might cause him to get upset again. For all he knows, it might- and he wants to avoid that as best he can.

He hadn't put on shoes or socks in his short trip outside of Adam's room, which is nice as it lets him climb right back up into the bed, fitting himself in the space around Adam's body, a familiar position that he's inhabited for most of the previous day and a half. He presses himself up solidly against Adam's back, an arm over his shoulder, pressing a small kiss behind his ear.

They'll figure out a way around the arm thing. Ronan can't look at it right now, he hasn't been able to genuinely focus on it since it happened. He's responsible- he did that to him, and now everyone has to live with the consequences. Logically, he knows that it was remove Adam's arm or let him die, but it doesn't absolve the guilt, the responsibility, any of it.

A few times in the past day, he's wondered why Adam even lets him close like this now, after everything. After- his beautiful hands-

Ronan swallows thickly and nudges his chin in the crook of Adam's neck.]

I brought you soup. You should try to eat.

[He hates that Ronan feels like he has to step quietly around him, move slowly, as if Adam will startle or scream or crack into a million pieces. He hates feeling like people think of him as something fragile, something that could break at any moment. He's been through so much, he's survived so much, that strength he's cultivated means something to him. So much of Adam was solely focused on survival for so long that he hates being so weak even for a moment, and he hates more that anyone sees him that way.

That it's Ronan who's seeing him like this is - worse, maybe, because he only wants Ronan to see the best parts of him. Ronan has been through so much too, and he has a capacity for caring and support that Adam would once have never suspected. Adam hates that he is asking so much of Ronan, hates that he always seems to be.

But Ronan is the only person he would ever be comfortable letting see him like this.

These thoughts are all distant, curling in the back of Adam's mind, behind the shock and the dullness, the workings of his mind healing from this, trying to accept this loss and all that's come along with it. Right now, all he can really think about is how grateful he is for Ronan's presence.

This is the first time anyone's really been there for him in a moment like this. The first time he hasn't been alone, picking up his pieces by himself.]

Yeah.

[The thought of food turns his stomach. But even like this, Adam is practical. He knows he needs fuel. He needs to keep from falling apart even more, he needs to take the first steps toward recovery.

But that requires both sitting up and pulling away from Ronan, neither of which are things he wants to do.]

Did you eat?

Yeah.

[It's more of a grunt than an actual word, but it's an affirmation, which is all that really matters. Ronan had heated up some soup earlier and eaten his share before bringing in Adam's. He doesn't want it to get too cold up there on the desk, but he also doesn't want Adam to have to move if he doesn't feel like it. Neither of them have really moved a whole lot in the past few days.

He wants to tell him that he shouldn't force himself to eat if he doesn't want to, but Ronan knows that he needs to and so he stays quiet, pressing his nose into the back of Adam's neck.

He hasn't told him yet, about Gansey. He doesn't know how Adam would take it, after everything else, but it's difficult to bear the weight of this knowledge alone. He'll tell him now, in this conversation, but- not yet. He stalls instead, breathing warm over Adam's shoulder and just holding onto him. They should move. Adam should eat- but he just wants to reassure him some more, first.]

Can you sit up? [He asks quietly, pulling his arm back, but still staying pressed up against him, warm and making his best attempt at being a secure presence behind him.] I'll stay right here.

[Ronan isn't going to leave, and that's more reassuring than it should be. Physically, Adam is - well, he's not all right, really, but his arm is healed, thanks to Gansey's magic. His body is still recovering from the shock of what happened, but otherwise he's fine. It's everything else that's wrong. He can't look at the place where his arm ends, can't even start thinking about what he's going to do.

It won't last. Even Adam knows that. He's too practical, too used to trauma - as horrible as that might sound. It's true, anyway. And he doesn't want to make Ronan care for him too long, doesn't want to push the edges of his patience. He's already shown so much.

And Adam knows he has to eat.]

Yeah.

[And he proves it, for all that he wants to lay there until the world ends around them. He sits up, and he looks at the bowl of soup. He doesn't reach out for it yet, needing to prepare himself. There's no way to keep from facing what's happened to him, after all. He takes a long moment before reaching out with his good hand - his right hand, luckily, his dominant hand - to take the bowl.]

Cool.

[Ronan watches Adam reach for the bowl and sits back for a moment, letting him take it on his own and pull it closer. Of course, actually eating is going to require a little situating, as Adam can't hold it in bed and feed himself at the same time with only one arm. But, Ronan lets him take control for as much of this as he can to try to encourage the feeling of independence that he knows is so important to Adam.

So he just watches, pressed warmly against Adam's side, before reaching out to gently take the bowl from him and holding it steady in Adam's lap, so it doesn't accidentally tip over. Ronan leans in, kissing gently at Adam's jaw while he does so, as if disguising the closeness with affection. He knows that, no matter how he tries to present it, Adam will see it as a weakness. He knows that Adam will blame himself for this, as if it's some kind of imposition, but he does the best he can to mitigate that.]

Here- go ahead.

[He made sure to grab one of the big spoons so it can't fall fully into the bowl- everything is carefully cultivated for ease, but done so in a way that tries earnestly hard not to look it. This is all that he can do to make up for what he did, and he tries to do it to the full extent of his patience and consideration.

It isn't easy, but none of this is. Ronan knows now better than to storm out when people need him.]

[Part of him wants nothing more than to lean into Ronan, give in to the shock and despair, and let himself be taken care of. But that's not a part that Adam has ever been able to listen to, and he's long since taught himself not to even listen to it. He spent too many years with nothing but his meager pride and his own two feet, his knowledge that he has no one to lean on but himself. It's going to be a long time before he can accept help easily, before he stops feeling like it's a failure if he has to.

But even with all of that, the guilt of needing help and the difficulty of accepting it, the shame of letting Ronan see him like this - Adam is still pathetically, desperately grateful that Ronan is there.

He could do this alone. He would manage somehow. He always has before, he's always found a way to survive, to cling to whatever he can, dig his fingers in and hold on with the tenacity that's sometimes been all he has left. He has to believe that he would manage even if he were alone.

But he's not. Ronan is here, and though that makes him want to shrivel up in shame at his own weakness, it also makes things easier, both practically and - well. Everything else. He doesn't have to try to balance the bowl, he doesn't have to find food for himself. Ronan is a solid, warm presence next to him. He's not visibly disgusted by Adam's weakness, he's not any of things he could be, things Adam would understand. He's patient instead, caring. Adam knows Ronan has these qualities, has known for a long time, but it always surprises him anew when they're directed at him.]

Thank you.

[He eats. It's - strange. Once or twice he starts trying to take the bowl himself, with his other hand, and then has to stop. It's like when he lost his hearing, when he kept putting earbuds in both ears because he'd forget. He tries to focus on the food instead, on eating as much of it as he can.]

[Ronan tries not to watch Adam eat, because he knows that that can be unsettling, but he likes knowing that Adam is taken care of and something about Adam's outward calm and the slow steps in which he starts to take care of himself eases a little of Ronan's own anxiety about the whole thing. He's still sure that he can never forgive himself for what he's done, but knowing that Adam is capable of moving on from it is something that can comfort him all the same.

He waits for awhile, letting Adam eat in a comfortable silence. Every once in awhile, Ronan will press his cheek to Adam's shoulder for a few moments, laying an idly affectionate kiss where his mouth can reach, worrying the hemmed collar of Adam's shirt between his teeth briefly- which is a trait of his anxiety that he's apparently now making Adam suffer through as well- and generally just letting himself be close, prodding, and present.

Adam probably won't be able to say much while he's eating and so Ronan lets him work at his meal in relative silence. It's the kind of silence that's comfortable in a way, but strained in a way- there's so much that Ronan wants to say, but he cares too much to distract Adam from this act of self-care. Not telling him hurts, both in that he feels like he's deliberately keeping things from him- his guilt, his concern, Gansey- but he's sure that saying something would be inconsiderate, and so he lets it simmer, and so his nerves fray.

Finally, when Adam is almost done, Ronan reaches over to pick at the lower hem of Adam's shirt, sliding his thumbnail along the stitch line.]

Gansey is gone again.

[He's been quiet so long that his voice is a little rough, and Ronan is resting his temple against Adam's shoulder so he conveniently can't meet his eyes. It's not the kind of news that he wants to break, especially not in a situation like this, but the longer he waits, the worse it's going to get.

It's already bad. He just has a hope that Adam will absorb it into his present state of shock and- maybe it won't affect him as much until this is all over. Is that cruel? He feels like it might be cruel, but Ronan also thinks that it could be for the best to get all the bad news at once and recover slowly later. Either way, he can't take it back now.]

[It's strangely comforting, having Ronan there like that, reminding Adam of his presence again and again. Adam would not have thought it would be comforting, would have thought that being alone was better - that's how it's always been for him, only dropping his defenses when other people couldn't see, too afraid to show his vulnerability. He thought he would hate something like this, with someone right there the whole time.

But it's comforting. It reminds him that he's not alone, that if he needs help he'll have it, even if he still hates the thought of needing help. It reminds him that he has someone who cares about him, even through his pain, even if he's not perfect, even if he's weak sometimes.

It's hard to believe. It's not a conscious thought, either. It's just there, with every careful movement Ronan makes, every reassuring touch and fidget.

He's nearly finished when Ronan speaks again. His hand, holding the spoon, goes still. He sets it down, careful not to jar the bowl too much.]

When?

[He doesn't know what to think. Or rather - his mind is blank, focusing only on what he can do right now, what he needs to do. If Gansey is gone, they can't get him back. If Gansey is gone, he's home, where he's safe. If Gansey is gone, will Ronan leave again? If Gansey is gone, is everything going to fall apart?

If Gansey is gone, Adam has to step up. Gansey expected it from him, he made that clear. Adam has to keep things together.]

[He's aware, more than anything, of the stillness. It resonates in him, like a flat pond of murky water, and Ronan tries to mirror it, but he's never been good at staying still, especially not in times of crisis.

Which is what this is, he supposes. Gansey is gone, Adam is injured, and everyone else is either tiptoeing around them or completely MIA. Ronan knows better than to be violent and angry here, but part of him still pulls that way- how could it not, even after everything he's tried to calm about himself?

Gansey is gone, but neither of them have to bear the brunt of his loss alone. Ronan is sure to try to guarantee that, no matter what Adam may be feeling at the time, no matter what his own impulses are. So he simply shrugs at the question, nuzzling his cheek a little more insistently into Adam's shoulder, allowing his affection to speak for his emotion, rather than trying to find the words of support that he wants to try to convey.]

Dunno. Not long ago.

[He's still holding onto the bowl with one hand, doing rather little, save for making sure that the remainder of the soup doesn't spill out. Adam is quiet, and Ronan isn't sure what he's thinking about, but part of him is too wrapped up in his own thoughts to be as concerned as he could be. Gansey left, and he doesn't know what that means- doesn't know what it means back home or here or anywhere, but it's something that they're going to have to deal with.

He sighs.]

You okay?

I'm okay.

[It's the only thing he can say, the only acceptable response. He has to be okay, especially now that Gansey's gone. He has to be the one to keep them together. That's what Gansey's asked of him, after all, more than once now. Never mind that Gansey is excellent with people, and Adam doesn't know how to connect with anyone. Never mind that Gansey's always been the center of everything, and Adam nothing more than a satellite.

He knows it makes sense. Ronan is too ruled by his emotions, likely to lash out or run away. Noah is barely there at all sometimes, still too ghostlike to rely on. Henry is an unknown quantity that none of them really trust yet. It has to be Adam, steady, hardworking Adam who always does what needs to be done regardless of the cost.

It doesn't feel fair right now. Not now. But that's self-pity, and Adam knows it. He knows it too well. He tries to catch hold of it, squeeze it out of himself, be stronger.

Ronan is still here. He hasn't left, he hasn't gotten angry like he did before. Maybe they won't fight. Maybe he'll stay, maybe Adam can lean on him a little. Just a little. He won't ask for much, he doesn't know how. But first Adam knows he has to get ahold of himself, he can't let this - his hand, Gansey, all of it in quick succession - distract him from what's important. Ronan, most of all. Noah. Whoever else is still here.]

He's safer at home. Nothing's going to hurt him there - we saved him.

Yeah.

[Ronan doesn't seem entirely convinced- but then, he never witnessed Gansey's miraculous recovery for himself. It's not that he doubts or doesn't believe the others when they tell him it happens, but it's difficult to really get over the fact that he dies anyway and then- lives happily ever after.

But this isn't about him, or his thoughts or misgivings about Gansey's fate, it's about breaking the news to Adam as well as he can. Ronan has already had awhile to try and process the information; for Adam, it's all new. So he doesn't protest, even if he can't help but wonder how everything turns out, and instead he goes quiet for a few moments, nodding blankly and letting all of this, the consequences, the ramifications, everything, sink in.]

I remember. You scryed for it.

[It brings back delicate memories, both good and bad, of the last time Gansey had left, when they tried to determine his fate. In a way, it was the beginning to all of this, even if it had been a little of a rough start. Ronan isn't sure if he'd change the way that everything happened, even if he could.

But he's never been afraid to meet someone's eyes, and so he looks up at Adam's now, troubled and unsure, but strong underneath it all. His jaw is tense, but he's not hiding from this. Hopefully that could be of some comfort.]

You full? I can get more.

[Adam didn't see Gansey's recovery either. He was brought to Hadriel right before it - but Gansey said it happened, and so did Blue, and so did Henry. In the face of all of that, he had no choice but to believe it, and he clings to that fact now. Gansey is home and safe, and they'll see him again whenever they go home.

It's a comfort. A small comfort, but a real one. Adam knows that wanting Gansey there with them is selfish, when this place is not safe for anyone, when he could be hurt. When he already has been hurt too many times. But even so, Adam feels the loss of him. The loss of one of the few people he trusts without reservation, someone he can talk to when he needs to, someone to relax around. He feels the loss of more than that - the possible destabilization of the ones left behind, the things that could happen.

They happened before. Things could be different now. Ronan seems upset about Gansey's departure, but not as if he's about to explode, not as if he might storm off. Adam knows it's not easy for either of them, but he's more worried about Ronan then himself. He was a poor substitute for Gansey last time. Things have changed, but that could still be the same.

He doesn't want it to be.]

I'm okay. Don't go.

[He doesn't want to be alone right now. He doesn't want Ronan out of his sight, as if he might disappear suddenly too. And he might. Then what would Adam do?

Adam fumbles with the bowl as he tries to set it on the nightstand, still clumsy with only one hand.]

Are you all right?

[Ronan doesn't interrupt when Adam sets the bowl on the nightstand, though he does quietly make sure that it's not about to tip over, prepared to jump up if Adam starts to lose balance or drop it. Luckily, neither of those things happen, and Ronan is blindsided by the following question, and so he doesn't respond right away.

The list of things that aren't alright are a mile high, and even then Ronan knows that he's got nothing on the shit that Adam is going through. Losing Gansey, feeling guilty is one thing, but losing Gansey, losing a hand, losing- all of this- it has to be worse.

He doesn't know what a good response to this is. If he's honest, he's not sure he'll be able to stop, and an emotional explosion is the last thing that Adam needs. If he lies- well, he doesn't lie. So in the end, Ronan just swallows hard and shrugs halfheartedly before refocusing, looking back up toward Adam with the same sort of raw intensity that he approaches everything with.]

I still have you.

[His fingers lift and he reaches out, sliding his hand delicately along Adam's cheek, his thumb brushing the soft skin over his cheekbone.]

You still have me.

[That's maybe the last saving grace about this whole thing. Ronan isn't so insecure as to think that Adam could fully cast him aside after this, not when they've been through so much- but he knows that he has a long way to go before he can forgive himself. But the bottom line is that they're both still here, and as long as that remains a constant, then there's still some semblance of hope and some possibility of happiness somewhere in the future.]

We'll survive this.

[Ronan still touches him, still wants to touch him. In this moment, Adam can't really understand why, considering his mutilated body and what he made Ronan do, but it helps immeasurably. Whatever else has happened, maybe they really do have each other. It's not that he doubted it, not exactly - Ronan's loyalty is one of the firmest truths in Adam's life - it's just that it's still something Adam has to work to accept. It's not something natural to him, it's not something he can expect. It's a surprise each time he's reminded that Ronan wants him, cares about him, loves him, and isn't going to change his mind.

It shouldn't be, but it is. That's not Ronan's fault, but rather just another scar from Adam's past, one that someday he hopes will fade.

He presses his cheek into Ronan's hand, letting himself take comfort from that touch, trying to give it in return. He still feels cold, broken, barely holding his pieces together, but it helps. And more than that, he wants to give Ronan the same thing, doesn't want him to think he's alone in this.]

We will. I'm not going anywhere.

[What he needs to do is pull himself together, be stable, be stronger. He needs to be able to let Ronan lean on him. He'll never be able to replace Gansey - frankly, he doesn't want to, he doesn't want to keep Ronan on a leash, he likes him a little wild. But he has to be able to be better, to look past his own troubles and focus on the others. He promised he would.

It's not easy right now, but Ronan is here. They're together. It's something, it means so much.]

You can tell me. If you're not okay, I mean.

[Ronan isn't sure what to say to that. Talking has always been difficult for him- touch is easier, action is easier, and when both of those fail, his dreams tend to speak for him. The truth is, when he thinks about Gansey, he wants to put his fist through the wall. The truth is, when he thinks about Adam's arm, he wants to drink and drink and drink until everything is blurred and spinning around him. The truth is, there are too many things beyond his control and it hurts and it leaves a hole in him that makes him feel like he used to feel, back when his tattoo was still healing and he'd press his back into the leather seat of his car just to feel it burn a little more.

He doesn't know how to say any of that. He does know that there's solace in Adam, there's a peace and intelligence there that's reminiscent of Cabeswater, but ultimately is entirely him, and he knows that when he touches Adam, he feels a little bit of that peace curling around the rest of it. And he'd love to say that it's enough, that that's all he needs to feel better instantly, but the hole is still there and he still feels lost.

For once though, he realizes that it's not Adam's responsibility to keep him on his path- and it isn't Gansey's, either. Adam can't take all of this on his own, not with everything else that he's lost, but Ronan still doesn't quite understand the difference between needing to lean on someone and outright expecting them to carry you- at least, not when it's him doing the leaning.

He's quiet for longer than he should be, and after a few moments, Ronan moves to lay down, not quite making eye contact, but still staying close, still touching Adam. He doesn't know how to tell him what he's feeling, but Ronan isn't subtle about any of his actions, and so he shakes his head slightly, tugging Adam down to lay with him.]

Does it still hurt?

[He lays down with Ronan, curling close to him. Adam feels a little better now that he's eaten - he doesn't quite remember the last time he did. Before this all happened, he thinks. He probably should have eaten sooner, but he had no appetite, no desire to eat at all. It does help, though. A little.

Ronan is warm next to him. He knows Ronan isn't okay, but he doesn't have the ability to draw it out of him right now. He doesn't know what to say, what to do to make it better. He can't bring Gansey back. He should probably apologize, he thinks, for making Ronan hurt him, and then for making Ronan take care of him afterward. He should apologize, and he will, but he can't find the words. Not right now.]

It aches a little.

[Adam thinks it's more of a psychological thing than a physical one. Gansey healed his wound, made sure he wouldn't bleed out or die from trauma. There's no physical reason for his arm to hurt, but it does, so he has to conclude it's psychological. He doesn't know what to do about that. It's like all those times at home - all those moments when he knew he was reacting a certain way because of trauma, when he missed home and knew he shouldn't, when he knew his past was ruling him but he couldn't make it stop.

This is not nearly as bad, but it's still frustrating. He knows it'll get better, he knows it has to get better. Ronan's presence helps, Cabeswater in the back of his mind helps, Aspen coming over to nose at him worriedly now and then helps. It'll just take time.

That's what he tells himself, but he wants it to be over already. He wants to be strong and unaffected by everything that's happened. But he's always wanted that, and it never seems to happen.]

It'll go away.

[Ronan nods quietly, curling loosely around the other boy as he's done for the past day or so. It's calmer when the two of them are here together, even if it hurts. He hurt Adam, maimed him, and he doesn't know if he can ever really be free of the guilt that comes with it, but Adam needs him now, and to let that guilt consume him and draw him away would be even more cruel.

He wraps an arm around Adam's stomach, nosing at his neck as he tries to take it slow, like they've taken everything else slow lately, needing to, really, just to process it all. Henry and Noah are giving them space, but Ronan knows that they'll have to face the two of them eventually. That can wait. For now, there's just this, just him and Adam and what happened, hanging heavy between them.]

I'm sorry. [He shouldn't apologize now- they can't deal with this now- but it aches in his chest, building up and boiling over until it's almost impossible to hold back anymore. Guilt used to materialize in him like anger, but now it reads more like the truth of it, quiet and curled up and ashamed.

Ronan's voice is soft, only audible because his lips are pressed so close to Adam's good ear, and it's easier when they're not looking at one another, easier when Adam can't read his face as well as his voice.]

I should have- if I tried harder to dream a cure. This. It wouldn't-

[He's somewhat calm while he explains it, even if he feels like his heart is clammed up in his throat. Ronan doesn't want to lose control of himself entirely around Adam, but his composure is only so strong.]

I can do all this shit, [he finally decides to say, catching hold of himself and burying his forehead in the back of Adam's neck,] I can fuckin'- bend reality. But I can't save- I can't protect anyone.

That's not true.

[His voice is quiet but firm. If there's one thing he's certain of, it's that. It's not Ronan's fault that he can't dream something up that'll beat the gods. This place belongs to them, and they have more power here than Ronan ever could. Adam never viewed it as a failure, not for a moment, though he isn't surprised to learn that Ronan did. Does.

The warmth of Ronan at his back is a comfort to him. He doesn't know if he is any sort of comfort in return, but he rests his hand - his good hand - on Ronan's where it lays across his stomach.]

You saved me. I would have died - I would have turned into one of those things and hurt you.

[So what if Ronan didn't use his dreams to do it? So what if it was traumatic, difficult for all of them? Adam will recover. He knows that if he'd hurt any of them he never would have forgiven himself - he still hasn't really forgiven himself for letting the demon possess him and hurt Ronan, though it no longer haunts him like it used to.]

And Gansey... Cabeswater saved him. It's yours, Ronan, it's part of you. It saved Gansey because you made it.

[He closes his eyes for a moment, feeling Ronan's forehead against his neck, his breath against Adam's skin.]

Don't say you can't protect anyone. You've always protected me.

[It's a fraught subject, for Adam. He doesn't want to be weak enough to need protecting, he doesn't want to rely on anyone else to be safe. But at the same time, the simple fact that Ronan wants to means the world to him. It doesn't feel like pity, though it would have not so long ago. Now, he knows Ronan better - he knows Ronan doesn't want to do it because he pities Adam, but because his fierce loyalty makes him want to keep everything he cares for safe. The Barns, Matthew, Gansey. Adam, now. And Adam has never felt that before.

He's never felt safe the way he does with Ronan. It's not that he believes Ronan will protect him - he still will get frustrated if anyone acts like he needs that - but rather that he trusts Ronan to never hurt him, trusts him to feel deeply and fully. He even is beginning to trust the idea that Ronan believes he's worth it.

He doesn't know how to express that, and he certainly doesn't know how to return that feeling, or how to give Ronan something of equal value. But he can try to alleviate Ronan's guilt, at least.]

[Ronan doesn't know what to say to that- he wants to act like he doesn't need reassurances or gentle words, but they help him more than he expects them to. It doesn't erase what he did, nothing will, but knowing how Adam sees it makes his actions a little easier to stomach.

He still can't stop thinking about the salve he tried to make, how it went wrong, where it went wrong, if he could have done it any differently. He saw Adam's arm go black with decay, even after he asked Cabeswater for something that would save him. Cabeswater had never disappointed them before, but now- ? It might be stupid to think that it could even trump the gods, but this is the first actual demonstration of his abilities against Fear's own, and to come up short leaves him stunned.

And guilty.

Ronan is quiet for a moment while he thinks about it- it's true, he's always tried to protect Adam and the rest of their friends, and even though he feels as if he's failed, maybe there's a kernel of truth to what he's saying. Ronan couldn't stop Gansey from dying, but his creation could revive him. He couldn't save Adam's arm, but he could save his life.

Magic seems to be fraught with these sorts of qualifiers- you never get exactly what you want, you can never use it perfectly, it always comes with drawbacks, consequences. It fills in the big picture but leaves the edges blurred in a way that he can't truly be happy with.]

I can't let anything happen to you, [he confesses quietly, as a way of explaining why he's been protecting Adam. It's easy to see why, and perhaps it doesn't need explaining, but Ronan tries anyway, finding the words in slow, uneven sentences.] I need you.

[But he shakes his head- that much of it should be evident from everything else he's said and how he's treated Adam in the past. That much of it should go unspoken, but it's his reason, selfish as it may be. Without Gansey, who else can he lean on here? It's no secret to Ronan that Adam keeps him stable, maybe even in a way that Gansey never quite managed. Adam lets him teeter and then pulls him back from the edge when things get too far. Ronan's always respected him for that.]

I wish we could go back. Fix everything. Save everyone.

[It's too idealistic of a statement for someone like Ronan Lynch, who doesn't normally share Gansey's optimism- but there it is, soft and vulnerable against the back of Adam's neck.]

It's fucking- unfair.

[Maybe it should go unspoken, maybe it could, but Adam can't quite put words to the complex mix of emotions he feels when he hears it. He wants to be important to Ronan, he knows that he is, but actually hearing it is something else. But it's true, he knows that, because of course it's true for him too. Simply the idea of losing Ronan is enough to make him go cold inside.

Adam has always been independent, has always had to be, and maybe his need for Ronan makes him weaker but he doesn't know if he cares anymore. He certainly doesn't care right now, when he's already so weak, when he wants nothing more than to stay here. The world outside the circle of Ronan's arms could cease to exist, and he doesn't think he would care.

Talking to Ronan like this is helping, is pulling him out of the state he's been in. He knows it should be more than that - that he should be remembering his responsibilities, the things he needs to do, what Gansey needs from Adam now that he's gone. But right now, Ronan is what he needs, and all he wants to do is take this comfort from him and offer what support he can in return.

It helps, feeling needed. Maybe that's selfish or self-centered, but it does.]

I wish we could too.

[More for Ronan's sake than his own. Ronan has lost so much, so many people. Adam has lost things too, but not like that. He wants the world for Ronan, he wants happiness and a home and an easy life for him. Love. Whatever he wants.]

But you can't - you can't take that on yourself. You've done so much already. You can't do everything. You can't take responsibility for the things that have happened.

[He closes his eyes, focusing only on Ronan's voice, on Ronan's arms around him, his soft breath against Adam's neck.]

I would be lost without you.

[He's quiet at that, wrestling with himself. It's difficult not to blame himself for everything that's happened- why shouldn't he? He has such immense power, but he never predicts anything well enough to put it to good use or to save anyone. His epipens for Gansey were stupid, the suit was ridiculous. If he could have predicted the Gray Man's arrival- a gun, maybe. If he could have predicted the attack on Aurora- a car and a friend to drive her far away from that place.

It's not that Ronan didn't do anything, it's that he's the only one who could have. In the wake of everything, prevention seems so simple, and his ill-thought countermeasures seem so childish.

But he doesn't want to sleep with a gun under his pillow. He doesn't want to always be looking over his shoulder. Maybe he has to. Maybe that's the only way he can protect everyone, but it would make him miserable. A fair trade, even he knows that, but- just the thought of it hurts a little. Maybe Adam would feel more protected that way, but Ronan doesn't ask.

Instead, he nestles closer and kisses the spot behind Adam's ear.]

We'll stay together. It's you and me- that's all that matters.

[Ronan's hand tightens on Adam's stomach, pressing closer to him, really letting himself feel the other boy's weight in his arms, letting Adam feel his comforting presence behind him.]

Just this.

Just this.

[His voice is a soft murmur, mirroring Ronan's words. He shuts his eyes, though he's unlikely to fall asleep anytime soon. He just wants to shut out everything else, to focus only on this.]

I won't leave. You aren't going to be alone.

[Adam promises that even though he knows it might be beyond his power. He knows Gansey would likely have chosen to stay, if he could, because they were all here. There's no reason to think things would be any different for Adam. But he's stubborn, he always has been, stubborn and driven and so very determined. If there's any possible way for him to stay with Ronan, he will.

There's more he should say. He should say that it isn't Ronan's job to protect him, that it isn't his job to protect all of them. That it doesn't lay solely on Ronan's shoulders, that Adam will do everything he can to protect Ronan and Noah and even Henry. He knows Ronan probably needs to hear that, but right now he can barely even pull himself together to offer this much comfort. How can he protect anyone?

But he will. It's not Ronan's responsibility. It shouldn't be. Gansey asked Adam to hold them together, and so Adam will find a way, and he'll find a way to make Ronan stop blaming himself, and he'll find a way to protect them all.

It's probably impossible. He'll try anyway.]

I'll keep you safe.

That's my line, [he murmurs affectionately, snug against Adam's throat,] dummy.

[But it's a comfort to know that Adam won't leave him. To know that, even if everything else is beyond their control, Adam wouldn't leave, even if he could. Ronan would do the same- he wants the Barns more than anything, he wants the warm summers and cool autumns there, he wants the deer and the cows and even the bratty little child, but he realizes that none of that would be worth leaving Adam behind.

He strokes his thumb gently along the lower end of Adam's sternum, closing his eyes and just feeling the both of them breathe in time with one another. Ronan sometimes feels as if they're one being when they're pressed close like this, just with two separate bodies to thrum and touch and tangle up alongside one another. He knows that they're both difficult in their own way, that they both have their barriers and walls and prickliness, but when they're alone together, it feels as if all of that melts away and they can just be- this.

The guilt is still there. Adam's pain likely hasn't faded yet, and Ronan would do anything to stop it- but they're on the same page again, rested and warm and recovering together. It's the only way he wants to.]

You should get some more rest.

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unknowable - 2016-11-15 23:45 (UTC) - Expand

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greywaren - 2016-11-22 09:33 (UTC) - Expand

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