Masky's Arc

Chapter 7 of 7

Tim stood outside the cave mouth. The waterfall roared beside him. Brian held him up by the arms. Tim's side still bled through his shirt. Red ran down and dripped off his fingers. His head kept dropping. Every few seconds his eyes rolled back, then snapped open again. He was losing this fight. Both men knew it. "Stay with me," Brian said. He shook Tim once. "Tim. Eyes open." "I'm trying." Tim's voice came out thin. "It's too much blood, Brian. I can't hold it." Brian looked at the wound. He pressed his palm flat against it. Tim hissed. The pain woke him for a second, no longer. Brian pressed harder, digging his thumb into torn skin. Tim didn't even flinch this time. His head sank against Brian's shoulder. "No." Brian's voice cracked behind the ski mask. "Pain worked before. Why not now?" "Too far gone." Tim's words slurred. "Pain's not enough anymore. When I sleep, he wakes up. And he won't hand me back. Not this time." Brian understood. He had seen it happen at the cave. He had watched the flat stare take Tim's face. He had barely called him back. Now Tim was slipping again, and there was no needle, no pills, no trick left. Brian tore off his own hoodie. He wadded it against the wound and knotted the sleeves tight around Tim's chest. The gold fabric went dark and wet fast. It slowed the bleeding. It did not stop it. "That buys us minutes," Brian said. "Not hours." Tim's eyes closed. Brian slapped his cheek. Nothing. He shook him. Nothing. The body had given up on staying awake. Brian felt the shift under his hands, the muscles going still and then wrong, the breathing turning slow and even. Masky was coming up through the dark, and this time no pain could stop him. So Brian stopped trying to hurt Tim awake. He pulled Tim's face up and pressed their foreheads together. "You don't get to leave," Brian said. Fast, low, steady. "Ellie. The film. The years. Me. You hear me? All of it. Come back to it." He said their shared names. He said every small memory he owned. He did not stop for breath. Tim's eyes opened. Human. Tired. His. But his skin had gone gray. His pulse fluttered under Brian's fingers, too fast, too light. "I heard you," Tim whispered. "But I can't do this again. Next time I go under, I stay under. You know that." Brian pulled Tim's arm over his shoulders. He took the whole weight himself. "Then we don't let you go under. We get you somewhere with medicine before you sleep." He turned them both away from the water. "Walk. One foot. I've got you." Tim walked. Barely. Bleeding, gray, one blackout from losing himself for good. But awake. Still Tim. For now, that was the whole win.