"Apologies mean the universe, if only a person means it."

Esmerion screams.

It isn't the pain that grips his throat. Nor is it the sudden rush of magic returning to himself. No, it is the guilt, the knowledge of the things he has done. He screams because the beast is within him, forever and always.

Draal watches from afar, gripping his open wounds with a firm hand. The Trollhunter is beside him, a grim look in his blue eyes as he rubs the back of his amulet with a thumb. Draal doesn't need to look to know that Jim Lake is haunted by something, or someone. He's capable of making a guess that paints a grim picture of what happened in the Darklands.

The screams are agonising, physically painful to listen to as they echo throughout the forest. They make Draal flinch, hearing such sorrow and guilt in his partner's voice that it makes him wish to join in with a cry of his own.

Silently, among the wreck of the Gyre, Claire Nuñez cries, relieved for Jim's return but also scared. Her friend, Tyler, or Esmerion as Draal had consistently told them, had attacked her in the Darklands. He had meant to eat her, and she had seen it in his eyes, the savage craving that replaced the warmth.

How wrong it is to fear the one who once treated her so kindly, she feels, how wrong to think of him as someone else. Yet all the same, she fears him. Fears the beast she might see inside and fears the gleam of hunger that haunts his eyes.

And so she cries, hidden behind a Gyre ring until someone pulls her out.

Nomura is in a similar state, only she sheds no tears. Instead, she forces her attention upon the task of creating a splint. But her mind is occupied with flashing memories, images of the beast running towards her, of the beast ready to prey upon them, only her mind replaces the the feral creature with the boy with innocent eyes and a curious expression. She cannot remove the knowledge of who he once was, despite knowing who he is. And so, it is in her mind's eye that the boy with no memories hunts her.

Ever the wise one, Draal takes a step towards his partner, an action that urges the others to halt his movement. He gives them a side long glance, his eyes echoing with a determination he has not borne since the day he challenged the Trollhunter. They can see it too, Blinkous and Aaarrrggh, they can read his expression and how it tells them that he will not let them stop him.

Once more, Draal takes a step forward, taking another and another, slowly approaching the still-screaming male. He is cautious, for he is not sure whether his partner has regained his mind, but he does not stop. He cares far too much to leave Esmerion to suffer, feral or otherwise.

When he takes a seat on the grass beside him, Esmerion's screams die off on a sudden broken chord. Draal is quick to catch his limp body as he topples over with exhaustion. Worry creases his stone brow as he delicately pulls his partner to his lap.

Esmerion's brilliantly hued eyes are glazed, dulled of any spark of adventure or joy, almost dead while he shifts his gaze to Draal's face. His movements, too, are lifeless as he weakly lifts a hand to examine the Troll's injuries.

"I didn't want to-" his voice cracks, Esmerion's bloodied fingers ghosting over Draal's wound. "I couldn't-"

"I know," Draal carefully takes his partner's hands in his, hushing him softly. "I know."

"N-no, ye don't," his voice trembles as his body does, his eyes glistening with haunted horror. "Ye don't know, Draal. I couldn't do what ah 'ad done back then an'—"

Carefully, so that he doesn't crush the already so fragile male, Draal cradles him to his chest, ignoring the sting of his wounds in favour of giving comfort. He is already so agonisingly aware of the pain Esmerion has endured in the short weeks of his disappearance. His partner did not deserve his misery, even if he believes for all the world that it is otherwise.

Esmerion whimpers, his head falling limply against Draal's chest. Blood flows freely from his wounds, staining his partner's stone skin a warm crimson. His eyelids are heavy now, and it takes far to much energy to keep breathing. He is dying.

Draal's eyes widen in panic, his heart beginning to beat frantically. "Esmerion!" He shakes the unconscious male with hopes of rousing him, but his efforts go unrewarded.

"Oh good gracious," Blinkous gasps, fidgeting with his hands. "I do hope the boy is all right."

"He won't be," Draal stands, cradling Esmerion's body in his arms. There's something desperate in his eyes as he turns to face the others. "He needs help."

"Then we must be swift."

《《》》

A weak groan flies from Esmerion's lips and his eyes flutter open, only to snap shut immediately at the bright light that awaits him. He groans once more, lifting a hand to block out the blinding brightness, only to frown at the sensation of strings in his arm and something solid on his finger.

Confused, he follows the wires to a machine near his head. His eyes are bleary and unfocused while his ears ring with a steady beeping that stems from the curious machine nearby. It makes his whole head thump with a numb headache, building a pressure behind his eyes.

"Ah, I see you're awake."

Esmerion flinches at the unfamiliar voice, jerking away from the speaker. Despite his wariness, it is only a doctor, a man in his late twenties, that stands by his side. Even then, the man holds himself in a non-threatening posture, almost slouching against the wall with a clipboard in his hands.

"Do you know where you are?"

The male lets the question sink in as his mind spins with the events of... everything. His thoughts become a blur of battle, swords, and screams, echoing from his recollection of his past to the escape from the Darklands. Yet, he can't make sense of anything, all his memories turned upside down and shuffled.

He frowns, lifting a hand to pinch the bridge of his nose. From there, he gingerly massages his temples, straining to place his location. It comes slowly, and the doctor is patient as he pieces it together.

"Arcadia Oaks hospital?" he asks as a question, unsure whether he is actually in Arcadia Oaks.

The doctor nods, smiling reassuringly as he writes something down on his clipboard. "Now, do you know your name?"

That's the question that he has to think long and hard about. Had he been parading under a false name these last months, or was that something his mind had falsified? "Tyler... Rey-Reynolds."

"Very good," the doctor says, writing something down once more. "Now, Tyler, do you know what year it is?"

"Two thousand sixteen," Esmerion replies without hesitation. Things are starting to come together now.

"Do you know who the president is?"

"Obama," he pauses, unsure of himself. "I think."

"The other guy hasn't been sworn in, so don't worry too much about it," the doctor chuckles, waving a nonchalant hand. "Now," he grows sober, looking up from the clipboard to pin Esmerion with a firm gaze, "do you remember what happened?"

Esmerion sucks in a short breath, his expression twisting with concentration. He opens his mouth, about to spin some kind of story, when a thought strikes him. What if Jim already made one up?

"I–" he starts, his brows pressing with confusion. "No. I don' think so."

"Nothing at all?"

"No," he says, a firmness entering his tone that leaves no room for argument. "Everythin's sort of flipped, if ye get what I mean."

"Scrambled?" The doctor tries, pressing a bit for answers. "So you might remember what happened but it's not where it should be?"

"Sorta," he shrugs slightly, wincing at the ache it leaves him with. "I dunno 'ow else t' explain."

The doctor studies him for a long moment before accepting this answer and turning his gaze back to his clipboard, jotting down a short note. With a soft sigh, he looks back up at the boy strung up to several machines. "All right then. I'm going to let your family in now, if that's fine by you?"

Esmerion nods with a small bout of hesitation, unsure how things might proceed. While he definitely needs to clear things up with Jim, he doesn't want to deal with Barbara's overbearing nature after fending for himself for so long.

"Tyler!"

He closes his eyes, taking the moment to sigh heavily through his nose with a feeling of dread. When he opens them, Barbara is stood by the bed with worry while Jim trails awkwardly at her side.

Tears brim Barbara's eyes, enlargened by her glasses, and she covers her mouth with a hand to mask her obvious relief. There are dark circles beneath her eyes and a ruffled appearance to her hair that says something about a lack of sleep. But she isn't in her usual work attire, instead dressed in everyday casual wear, and that's surprising.

Jim, however, looks nothing but guilty, if only in his eyes. Worry that doesn't quite match his mother's is plastered across his features, an anxiety that stems from indescribable horror makes his hands fidget. Yet, despite what he has witnessed, he is relieved, and beyond grateful that the male has survived.

"H-hullo." Esmerion forces a weak smile and reluctantly allows Barbara to clutch his hand.

"Oh, Tyler, you're awake," she gives a watery chuckle of relief, running her hand through his scruffy hair. "Good."

"I would hope so." Esmerion glances up and down his covered body in a poor attempt to lighten her spirits and spare him a smothering. "I prefer t' be in only one piece."

"You had me worried," Barbara starts, combing his hair with a delicate motherly touch. "Both of us. Jim said he found you at the bottom of a cliff while you were camping, and I didn't know what to think."

"Cliff?" Esmerion frowns to himself, figuring that Jim has twisted this story to suit whatever the others have come up with during their absence.

"You went off to look for firewood," Jim jumps in, his fists tight on the metal bar of the bed frame. "You didn't come back, so I went looking. I nearly walked off the edge of the cliff in the dark, even with the flashlight, and it looked like you had done what I nearly did."

Blinking, Esmerion stares at Jim, slowly working his way around the jumble of words. Under his gaze, the boy shifts uncomfortably and rubs at the leather bracelet on his wrist.

"So," he begins, turning his attention to Barbara's still-worried expression, "I jus' did somethin' moronic, then."

Barbara's expression turns immediately to one of distress. "This isn't a joke, Tyler! You nearly died!"

"I understand that, but I'm all well an' good now, aren't I?" He frowns, sitting up further in the hospital bed with a wince.

"You weren't last night!"

Esmerion blinks, glancing at Jim for confirmation. He flinches as the boy looks guilty, and subtly turns his head away from him.

"I'm glad you're all right, Tyler," Jim smiles weakly, ducking his head as his mother looks at him. "I'm glad you're alive."

The male doesn't reply, instead plastering a small, fake smile on his lips as he fidgets uncomfortably. He can't even recall how he behaved before regaining his memory.

Barbara gives him a look that anyone else might not have been able to decipher, but the male can read the concern in her eyes as clear as day. She wonders if he had tried to kill himself, and in a way, he had. His sanity had dissolved in the Darklands and left his body with nothing more than savage intent and desire. Merely following Jim through the Bridge had been destined suicide, even if that was not his intention.

Then the woman asks the dreaded question, "Jim, can you give us a few minutes?"

Sighing in defeat, Esmerion accepts his fate and leans back against the angled mattress. An anger starts to brew in his belly, a frustration with the woman's constant need to mother and smother him. He wants to snarl at her, wants to snap and tell her that she is nothing like his mother, that she will never be his mother. But he cannot, and so he keeps him mouth shut.

Jim looks conflicted as he glances between the two, torn between buffering his foster-brother from his mother and respecting his mother's decision. Yet, as he debates with himself, he catches the blatant wave of dismissal from Esmerion, telling him to not be concerned and run along.

A beat of silence passes between the two of them before Barbara chooses to speak. "Are you all right, Tyler?"

"Why wouldn't I be?" Esmerion fires back, a sharp undertone in his words.

At this, Barbara's brows knit together in confusion. Gently, she takes his hand in hers, ignoring the scabs on his palms, and rubs soft circles on the back of it. "You've been very closed off these last two weeks. I just want to know what's wrong."

"Nothin's wrong," he grumbles, turning his eyes to the ceiling. "I'm fine."

"I don't think you are," Barbara says softly, her voice cracking as she speaks. "Tyler, your injuries can't have been caused by sharp rocks. There was no dirt or stone in them. What happened?"

Esmerion stares at her for a long moment, his gaze sharp and piercing as he considers his answer. "Don' ye think that I would 'ave said if I knew? I don' even know what day it is, Barbara."

He scoffs in the brief pause that the woman studies him with obvious disbelief.

"Well, since ye so clearly don' believe me, why do ye care so bleedin' much?" He hisses, aggressively scratching at his hospital bracelet so to not angrily tear out the wires and IV line from his arms.

Barbara looks taken aback, startled by his behaviour and words. More tears start to fill her eyes, provoked by his so very undeserved lashing. "I love you, Tyler. I care because I love you," her voice is quiet, so quiet that he nearly doesn't hear her words.

Regret stabs at Esmerion's heart, but he shoves it away in favour of the satisfaction that anger gives him. Like a drug, hot Anger fills his heart and twists his intentions like a dragon's swirling smoke. He is content with his fury.

"I'm not sure I can say the same," he snarls after a beat of silence, settling back into the mattress to glare at the ceiling. "'Ave a splendid morn', I'm sure it'll be better without me."

Esmerion doesn't even watch as she walks out of the room. He doesn't care for her tears.

Everything is different now. Things are forever different and we have encountered that the Gang figured out a story to spin to make things make sense.

Look forward to the next few! See you then!