Lukas leaned heavily on her, barely able to stand. Even under all the pain and exhaustion, a small smile formed. She had to be just as exhausted, she’d used her abilities to suppress his pain all night, all day, and still had more power to pump through the rest of the team for the fights. In the last four hours she’d also conquered at least a portion of her claustrophia underwater.
Her strength was the only thing even remotely keeping him going, and here she was holding him up too. Love and admiration surged through him momentarily, and then he saw the next damn door as the team gathered around him, and they still didn’t have Waverly.
It didn’t matter though. He’d hoped Waverly’s underwater allies could help him, but it hadn’t been enough and hope died when they ran out of time at the hospital. He’d tried to be optimistic, tried to push through it all, so he didn’t drag Allison down, but it was too much. He wasn’t strong enough and if he hadn’t had Allison he would have collapsed. He wanted to blame it on the exhaustion, the pain, the frustration, everything, something, but it was really just him. He didn’t know shit about his friends, not really. Could he really even call them his friends if he didn’t know what or who they loved? What kind of leader didn’t know about Felix’s friend? If nothing else he should have fucking known from tralking to Katie when they tested his ability on her. So focused on what he wanted to do that he ignored everything, and everybody around him.
He should resign when they got back. Not like he fucking had a clue what he was doing. At this point he was fucking useless anyway, none of his real powers worked, only the one that he fucking had to have to not die. The one he hated because of . . .
Guilt, anger, and rage bubbled as he told the team to find the thing that mattered to Waverly. Since it hadn’t been her mother here, then it had to be an object, a symbol.
The weight crushed him to the ceiling, and the blood from his wounds wasn’t even just a drip anymore. He could barely move, and he’d been wrong anyway. He’d thought, logically, that if it had been the home and the spirit stick, that it had to be the table, or the tv, but he’d been wrong. Fatally wrong it seemed. Just because he loved their time at the table, the movie marathons, he’d thought that . . .
Helpless, as those he loved got buried under the fucking zombie versions of . . . us, even Sugar. He’d failed. Again and again and again.
Pain surged through him as Z’s weapon slashed through Allison and he screamed in impotent rage and the Felix’s powers held him tight. Tears leaked out of his eyes as even blooded with hands raised in defense, the pain lessened again. It didn’t matter as he couldn’t move, but maybe he could do one last thing.
Barbe surged, grabbing at Ethan again. Why?
No matter. He hadn’t really tried to push through the sorcerous binds. He just had to accept the pain, that was it. Maybe, just maybe, if pulled enough power through he could heal both Barbe and Allison, then they would have a chance.
He took a deep breath, and looked at Allison, focusing on how much he loved her, and he reached for the power.
Everything went white.
Last Dreams 