Marcus Keane (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
pushbackthedarkness) wrote2019-12-05 11:48 am
pushbackthedarkness) wrote2019-12-05 11:48 am
[tempter of the holy]
Marcus is exhausted.
He'd known, of course, he'd seen it dozens upon dozens of times in the people he's helped. He'd held them and wiped their tears and tended to their wounds and told them they just had to fight for a little while longer, so he had known, but he had never really appreciated the bone wrenching exhaustion that comes with fighting back from this side.
Every part of his body aches, but he can only feel it from a distance. Everything comes to him as if from a distance, as if he's not really part of his body at all, but something kept just slightly apart. Kept out of the way.
There are times when it feels physical, as if he's pushing back against some barrier, times when he's able to hook his fingers into something and claw to the surface, but those moments are getting more and more difficult to grasp. He feels if he could only wrap his hands around the demon's throat, he would be able to choke it out of him, but every time he tries, a horrible buzzing laugh rips from his mouth and he finds his actual hands yanking against his restraints, trying to reach his own throat.
Matthias comes to him in those moments, soothing him, pressing a cool hand to his burning forehead and Marcus wrenches away from the touch. He had been such a fool to fall for it in the first place, but he'd just felt so lost, so confused, all those memories pressing in on him, time folding over on itself in ways that should have been impossible. In the moment, it had made sense for Matthias to be there. If he was in Darrow and he had also killed Andy, then he could be here without Matthias and Matthias could still be there all at once, only he understands now none of that is true.
He didn't kill Andy. Not the man he is now. And when Matthias comes to him, eyes and voice and smile so familiar, he knows it's wrong. He's so damn ashamed of having fallen for it in the first place.
"You're not you," he hisses at Matthias in a rare moment when he can speak in his own voice. The others don't see Matthias, he knows they don't, but he can't let this stand. This thing wearing Matthias's skin. "You're not you, you don't belong here."
He knows the thing's name. If only he could get back to them properly, if only he could find a moment of awareness, he would be able to tell Sam, but he can't seem to get there. Every time he speaks the name it dissipates on the air and another lash is ripped across his back, leaving his skin bloody and raw.
Even the pain is distant, though. All Marcus knows is how tired he is. How much he just wants to close his eyes and sleep.
"Sleep, älskling," the thing wearing Matthias's face says gently. "Sleep now."
Marcus works up what little strength he has and spits in its face.
He'd known, of course, he'd seen it dozens upon dozens of times in the people he's helped. He'd held them and wiped their tears and tended to their wounds and told them they just had to fight for a little while longer, so he had known, but he had never really appreciated the bone wrenching exhaustion that comes with fighting back from this side.
Every part of his body aches, but he can only feel it from a distance. Everything comes to him as if from a distance, as if he's not really part of his body at all, but something kept just slightly apart. Kept out of the way.
There are times when it feels physical, as if he's pushing back against some barrier, times when he's able to hook his fingers into something and claw to the surface, but those moments are getting more and more difficult to grasp. He feels if he could only wrap his hands around the demon's throat, he would be able to choke it out of him, but every time he tries, a horrible buzzing laugh rips from his mouth and he finds his actual hands yanking against his restraints, trying to reach his own throat.
Matthias comes to him in those moments, soothing him, pressing a cool hand to his burning forehead and Marcus wrenches away from the touch. He had been such a fool to fall for it in the first place, but he'd just felt so lost, so confused, all those memories pressing in on him, time folding over on itself in ways that should have been impossible. In the moment, it had made sense for Matthias to be there. If he was in Darrow and he had also killed Andy, then he could be here without Matthias and Matthias could still be there all at once, only he understands now none of that is true.
He didn't kill Andy. Not the man he is now. And when Matthias comes to him, eyes and voice and smile so familiar, he knows it's wrong. He's so damn ashamed of having fallen for it in the first place.
"You're not you," he hisses at Matthias in a rare moment when he can speak in his own voice. The others don't see Matthias, he knows they don't, but he can't let this stand. This thing wearing Matthias's skin. "You're not you, you don't belong here."
He knows the thing's name. If only he could get back to them properly, if only he could find a moment of awareness, he would be able to tell Sam, but he can't seem to get there. Every time he speaks the name it dissipates on the air and another lash is ripped across his back, leaving his skin bloody and raw.
Even the pain is distant, though. All Marcus knows is how tired he is. How much he just wants to close his eyes and sleep.
"Sleep, älskling," the thing wearing Matthias's face says gently. "Sleep now."
Marcus works up what little strength he has and spits in its face.
no subject
Not like Betty, and he had to admit that was a relief, as well. Betty's demon was unlike anything he'd ever encountered, and he wasn't looking forward to the day it came for them again. This, at least, felt familiar— an insecure, desperate, grasping thing clawing for a bit more time in a meatsuit that didn't belong to it. It was weak, and maybe they were getting their asses kicked, but they wouldn't be for long.
"Man, I gotta say, I really wish you were out here with me, on this one."
no subject
Dan's mouth curves a little as Marcus smiles and he squeezes Sam's shoulders. Another time and he might have said something cutting, some callous remark about how he really was the only one who could fight this thing, but it isn't true any longer. He trusts Sam with this. Trusts him like he wanted to trust Tomas and never could quite manage.
"There's no one else I would rather be looking after me," he says honestly.
no subject
"We're going to get you out of this. All of us," he promised, looking into a pair of eyes that were only just becoming familiar. He liked Dan, and in that moment, he couldn't have possibly been more grateful to have the guy around.
no subject
The escape is a relief, being in a body that doesn't ache with everyone movement, in possession of all his faculties again, control of his limbs, even if they're not strictly his. But he can't leave Dan there, no matter how much of a relief it may be. He would never be able to forgive himself if something bad happened in his absence.
"Thank you, Sam," he says. "I'll be seeing you soon."