[Alex/Ravi] - in which Echoes are inconvenient and no one is surprised

[healspec]

Who: Alex & Ravi
When: Sunday, December 1st
Where: On the road into Locke City, at the Echo Border.
What: Alex's echoes return to him along with a month's worth of cumulative blood-starvation. Stuck in a car with a starving vampire is a bad situation to be in.
Warnings: Blood, vampirism, a couple instances of self-injury, and some discussion about the difficulty of living with a mental illness.



On his and Ravi's return trip to Locke City, Alex was poking through the glove compartment for lack of anything better to do when he stumbled upon Ravi's set of throwing knives.

As they had yet to cross the invisible border, Alex didn't remember that he'd been the one to facilitate the purchase of these throwing knives and so he let out an articulate, "Holy shit!"

It was promptly followed by, "Are these for an ex? Are we fleeing from the scene of a crime or heading towards it? Do I need to be worried?"


Ravindra, without his Echoes, did not remember buying those knives, and he certainly couldn't fathom why he'd have them, much less why they would be in his glovebox. He was just as surprised as Alex to look over and see them there.

The fact that he had no answer to give left him unsettled, but he covered that up with annoyance, reaching over and pushing the glove compartment shut, flashing Alex an admonishing glance for snooping. He had a few seconds to come up with an answer--why were they there, though?

But they hit the Echo border before he could come up with anything.


When they did cross the border and returned to their Echoed selves, Alex's surprise was immediately swapped out for distress. Gasping, he grabbed the base of his throat and hunched over, unable, for the moment, to focus on anything but the intense burn of starvation.


For Ravi, the transition was much less severe. It was as though a fog lifted from his consciousness, restoring access to knowledge that had been obscured. (Oh, that was why the knives were in his glovebox.) There was also a pressure in his chest, welling up into that strangely familiar well of warmth and light as he drew in a deep breath.

It was a surreal sensation, regaining everything at once, realizing the truth had been obfuscated from him. Surreal, but not anything he found uncomfortable enough to start agreeing with the popular aversion to leaving the city's sphere of influence.

He didn't have a lot of time to think about it. One breath, cut short by the sound and sight of Alex from the corner of his eye. His head snapped toward the passenger seat, eyes wide, face wary. "Alex?"


It was unlike anything he'd ever experienced. He felt weak, but focused-- focused on any possible way to lessen the sharp burning sensation spreading through his body. It was as if his veins were screaming at him to do something.

There was a food source right there. Ravindra.

No. No, no, no, no. Not again. He wasn't going to lose control again--!

"Stop," he said, barely more than a breath. The pressure of his fingers digging into his neck distorted his voice. "Stop the car, stop the car, stop!"


Ravi's reliable danger instincts were screaming at him, but he didn't need them to tell him not to question the demand. Alex was white as a sheet--literally, in a way that normal humans did not achieve even as corpses.

Vampire, he remembered, after nearly a week of having forgotten.

He swerved onto the shoulder and braked as quickly as he safely could. Maybe a little quicker than that, given the sound of the skid.


Alex collided into the passenger's door with the swerve. The impact jostled him enough to clear his thoughts enough to act. Hyper-focused on putting some distance between himself and the body pulsing with blood, he clawed at the door, only to meet resistance from the seat belt he'd forgotten he was wearing. He struggled with the buckle and stumbled out as soon as he was free.

His panic continued escalating. What could he do? There was no blood here. He didn't even have enough attention to spare on berating himself for his failure to anticipate this scenario. He didn't realize he was turning around to face the car again until he was looking at the driver's seat.

He didn't want the warmer interior. He wanted the warmer living thing inside of it.

Alarmed, he kicked the door shut and fell against the car with the momentum. The burst of activity did nothing to alleviate the burning sensation. On the contrary, it felt like his insides were rioting against him.


Ravi watched, tense, leaning slightly away from Alex. He jerked a hand away from the wheel, thinking to reach over and unlatch the seat belt Alex was struggling with, but caution kept him from making the decision before Alex had managed it himself.

The colour--or lack thereof--was related to Alex's hunger, he remembered. It hadn't even occurred to him that the failure to feed would create cumulative hunger while Alex was away from the city, but for him to be this pale? That was the only explanation that made sense.

...Oh.

That stare, though.

Ravi leaned back against the door, eyes locked on Alex, afraid to look away or even to breathe. He recognized that look. He almost wished he didn't. Almost--only because it was distressing to see on his best friend, never mind directed at himself. A predator. Sizing up prey.

As soon as the door slammed, he scrambled to hit the door lock button, and paused for a moment to breathe. Then he snatched the keys out of the ignition--no need to kill the engine, the sudden braking had taken care of that.

Last time he'd managed to bring Alex back to his senses with a frying pan to the head, but he had the feeling that was not exactly a workable solution here. But there had to be something he could do besides letting his best friend stalk him like a wolf because his vampire instincts had suddenly gone out of control.


Too late, it occurred to him that there was blood -- blood acceptable to consume -- in the beef cuts he'd brought for -- well. For the self that could eat a steak and enjoy it, which was no longer his current self. Those cuts didn't have enough blood to sustain him, but he wasn't thinking that far. As soon as he discovered the option, he latched onto it like a lifeline and tried to open the backseat door.

It was locked.

Noooo, what was with Ravi and locking Alex out? He was going to die(???).


He had a good reason (this time)!!!

The sound of Alex trying the door jolted him out of his thoughts. He spun to look, a cautious stare through the window that quickly turned indignant. It was a perfect what the fuck do you think you're doing face--you can't just crawl back into the car and attack him from behind Alex, you asshole!

...or maybe that wasn't what Alex was trying to do, he realized, when his eyes fell on the cooler in the back seat. He undid his seat belt, leaning between the seats to tap the lid of the cooler while directing a questioning look at Alex.

Raw steak had not been enough to sate his vampire hunger in the past, but who was Ravi to question Alex's physiology? Maybe it would be enough to get them back to the apartment and his proper blood supply.


There was no way in hell the blood in those cuts would last him the full hour, hour and half that spanned the distance between the boundary and the city proper. There simply wasn't enough.

But Alex wasn't thinking about the amount. He just wanted the blood. So consumed by this single goal, he failed to notice Ravi's look, instead responding to the locked door with a spike in vexation and a slam of his palm against the exterior. His eyes were quick to return to the cooler, fixing it with a hard stare.

Then Ravi went and called attention to himself. Dumb move, son. Alex lifted his gaze to meet his, instinctively aiming to put him under a trance.


He flinched when Alex hit the window, followed by another indignant glare. Being taken over by vampire instincts is no excuse to abuse his car, dammit! (Ravi has priorities.)

Unfortunately for him, Ravi was, for once in his life, actually attempting eye contact with someone. The trance took hold. He stilled, waiting for Alex's command, looking back at him with a glassy-eyed stare.


The 'command' was unspoken. Ravi would simply feel the urge to unlock the doors and let Alex inside, finding nothing wrong with the sudden contradiction to his actions moments before.


He retreated to the front seat, the question of the steaks in the cooler completely forgotten. Alex was locked out. It made perfect sense to let him back in.

He hit the button. The doors unlocked, removing the shield he'd been so intent on keeping just seconds before.


He slipped back into the passenger's seat, not thinking to close the door. Alex's attention was completely centered around obtaining the blood in the person across from him. As he leaned forward, one hand propping himself on the separation between their seats, he willed Ravi to meet him halfway and used his other hand to open the glove compartment. There were knives in there -- throwing knives.

He only needed one.

Perhaps in anticipation of a meal, his hunger flared up, sending a wave of acute pain through his body. It was enough to snap his hold on Ravi.


Ravi leaned in toward Alex, nothing about the suggestion so out of place that he could find the will to resist it. He noticed him reaching for the glove compartment, but distantly; it didn't seem important.

Until the trance snapped and he suddenly realized that 1) a starving vampire was within arm's reach of him, and 2) that same starving vampire was going for the glovebox, where his throwing knives were stored.

Nope.

He jerked back against the door, scrambling to get it open, practically falling out of the car in his rush to get away from Alex. As soon as he was on the other side, he slammed the door shut and retreated toward the back of the car, warily watching Alex through the windows.


The sharp flare of hunger was enough to afford Alex one more fleeting moment of clarity. Fingers curling around the hilt of a knife, he tore it out of the glove compartment and plunged it into his other hand. The pain was immense, but it was also demanding, and though it would do more harm than good to him in the long-run, Alex could only think of the present-- of doing anything to obstruct his attempts on Ravi's safety.


He didn't see what Alex was doing, only that he wasn't trying to get out of the car to come after him. Ravi ducked behind the trunk, leaning a shoulder against the car in a crouch. His heart was pounding, his breaths heaving, and his thoughts focused to a superhuman clarity. Not the symptoms of the irrational panic of anxiety, but of a reasonable fear in the face of an immediate danger. Conditions Ravi worked surprisingly well under.

This was not a self-resolving problem. He couldn't just hide until it went away. Alex was not himself and the only way to fix that was to get him the blood he needed.

There were only two sources of blood available: the raw steaks in the cooler, and Ravindra.

The answer came to him suddenly, unbidden, forcing its way through all the other options to present itself before him. It was not a comfortable answer. He wasted precious seconds evaluating his other options, but none of them were better. Knock Alex out and tie him up until they could get back into town, let him drain the whole supply of steaks and hope that would be enough, murder a hitchhiker...

Nope. The only answer was to give Alex what he was trying to take.

Ravi opened his hand to look down at his keychain. He exhaled sharply, muttered an oath under his breath, and hit the button to pop the trunk. Fuck if he was going to just throw himself to the wolves and let Alex take his blood directly--he needed to find a way to offer it without putting himself into the line of fire.

He rose cautiously, not sure what was keeping Alex occupied but hoping it would work for another few minutes at least. He lifted the trunk's lid as he stood, shoving the keys into his pocket. He needed a knife and he needed a watertight container, surely he could scrounge up something.

Unfortunately his best option for knives were in the front seat with Alex. But there was the first aid kit sitting back here with the luggage...

He looked at it with a wince and a reluctant little noise, but grabbed it and pulled it over to open it up. The standard stuff: gauze, disinfectant, band-aids, a pair of scissors... He gave the scissors a dubious look. This was going to suck. So much.


Alas, it was not going to suck in the way Alex (or, rather, his hunger) hoped.

Acclimating to the throbbing in his hand, he yanked the knife out, successfully renewing some of the pain and distracting himself from going after Ravi. There was blood, but less than the amount one would expect, and darker, too. Hand shaking with adrenaline, the hilt slipped from his grip; it landed somewhere at his feet. He drew his wounded hand to his chest and hunched over it, breath harsh in his throat.


Oblivious to the mess Alex was making of his car, Ravi stared at the contents of the trunk, wondering what he could use to collect the blood in. Somewhere in there under the luggage was an emergency kit that had bottles of water in it, but without a funnel that was not optimal, and he'd probably have to take their bags out to find it--

Ah, the bags, though--

He yanked his open and started rifling through it. He didn't have to go far. Right at the top was the ziploc bag in which he'd kept his toothbrush, toothpaste, medication, and other such items that needed protecting from the rest of his things. He unzipped it and dumped the contents into his bag.

He set the ziploc bag inside the lid of the first aid kit, arranging it so it wouldn't spill over when he started trying to fill it. "I would not drink out of this," he muttered to himself, shrugging out of his jacket. There weren't a whole lot of options here; Alex would just have to forgive him for it.

He tossed the jacket over the edge of the trunk and reached for the scissors. The best place to cut came to him instinctively. Not the wrist, too many tendons around to hit if he went deep enough for good blood flow and he couldn't heal that sort of damage yet. There was a reason blood draws were usually taken at the elbow, and this situation was close enough that it still applied. He shoved his sleeve up past his elbow and grabbed the scissors, leaning down to position his arm so the cut would drain into the bag without risk of spilling elsewhere.

Holding the scissors as far open as they would go, he placed one blade against his arm, lining it up parallel to the vein. He paused, glancing up toward the cab of the car with a quiet, reluctant whine. God damn you, Alex. You owed him for this.

He bit down on his lip, turning his head away, eyes squeezed shut. It took him three tries to steel himself enough to actually go through with it. Scissors were not the most optimal alternative blade because they were dull, which meant that opening a wound as large and deep as he needed required significantly more pressure than, say, one of his throwing knives would have. It hurt just as much as he expected it to, but he managed to get through it with no more than a soft grunt to draw attention to himself.

He dropped the scissors, freeing up his hand to make sure the bag didn't roll out from under his arm as it filled. Yup, that sure was bleeding. A lot. Like, a lot. Ravi was not a squeamish person by any means, but every instinct was screaming at him to do the exact opposite of what he was doing, and that made him antsy. He cast another glance toward the car, passenger side, listening for signs of Alex climbing out to approach him.

Could he actually heal this when he was done? What if the magic failed him somehow and he just kept bleeding? How much would be enough? What if this was the wrong answer entirely and it just gave Alex a taste for him, like a lion you'd fed human meat to? What if it wasn't good enough and his best friend still ate him after this?

--Oh god, he was literally feeding himself to his best friend. This was probably the most fucked up way he'd ever had to rescue himself from a situation.


Alex was suddenly keenly aware of the blood that was being spilled. Its existence cut through the haze of pain from his hand and took center stage. Staggering out of his seat, he leaned against the side of the car and stared in Ravindra's direction. After a moment, he started unsteadily towards him, dropping his injured hand to his side and propping the other on the car to keep his balance.

He stopped at the trunk, colorless irises staring intently at the blood in the bag. This time it was Alex who was entranced. His lips parted, then snapped shut as another convulsion of hunger hit him.


Was that scuffling the sound of Alex coming for him again? Ravi froze, not even daring to breathe, and listened. Definitely footsteps. Oh god.

Nope, he was done, however much he'd already bled would have to be enough, he was not standing around waiting for Alex to jump him. He hurried to zip the bag and stumbled back, toward the opposite corner of the car than the one Alex would be rounding, pressing his other hand over the wound like a vice, finally listening to his instincts to attempt to stem the flow of blood. A trail followed his retreat, though, from the bag to the car to the ground.

A sharp intake of breath when he saw Alex and he ducked around the corner of the car, back pressed against the wheel. Again he waited, not daring to breathe, and hoped Alex would take the offering he'd been left instead of chasing after the source.


Most vampire fiction romanticized bloodlust, but there was nothing attractive about this scenario. Alex was drawn to the blood like an alcoholic to liquor, stumbling towards it like it was the holy fucking grail. With shaking hands, he unzipped the bag and tilted his head back to drink it all.

It wasn't like downing a ton of water when dehydrated or thirsty in the mundane sense. Drinking Ravi's blood was like extinguishing a fire, soothing angry veins that greedily snatched up the blood Alex consumed. An Echo resounded within him, but played second fiddle to the blood satiation.

When there was nothing more to fall into his mouth, he dropped his hand on the trunk's edge and simply stood, hunched over as he waited for his hunger to settle down. After a minute or so, Alex was cognizant -- and uncomfortably made aware once more of the puncture in his left hand -- and extremely uncomfortably made aware of what had just transpired.

He stepped back from the trunk. "Ravindra?" he asked, voice small and uncertain. He looked around the side of the car, afraid that Ravi might be bleeding out, but also afraid to go near him.


He heard Alex going for the bag, and after a few seconds to confirm that he wasn't going any further, Ravi finally allowed himself to breathe again.

Next order of business: his arm was still bleeding like a motherfucker.

He closed his eyes and called up that light from behind his heart, channeling it and weaving it into the now-familiar spell to mend flesh. The warmth flooded into the wound beneath his palm, closing it up until it was nothing more than the faint line of a scar against his skin. One day he would learn the focus and technical skills necessary to completely avoid scarring, but today, hiding from his best friend on the side of the road to avoid being eaten, was not that day. Once he had the wound closed up, he cast a second spell to restore any lost blood volume, bringing himself back to the state he'd been in before slicing his arm open.

Well, almost. Magically healing himself didn't also make the blood that'd already left his veins magically vanish. He looked down at himself, at the dark spots that had dripped onto his shirt and his jeans, and sighed. He leaned his head back against the car, tilted to watch around the corner, and waited to see what happened next.

He tensed when Alex appeared, drawing away almost imperceptibly. Most of Alex's colour was back, it looked like--that was probably a good sign. "...Are you okay?" Ravi asked, his expression more concerned than wary once he was reasonably sure Alex wasn't going to lunge at him.


On first sight, Alex was unable to tell that there was no longer an open wound beneath that bloody mess. "Are you?" he asked, rushing forward. His worry for Ravi's condition outweighed his fear that he'd do something untoward. it was clearly plastered on his face as he dropped to kneel beside him, years of experience automatically directing his hands. He was so distraught he wasn't considering the fact that Ravi knew how to handle himself in an injury.


It was a relief to see Alex acting like himself again instead of a ravenous wolf. Ravi untensed, exhaling softly. He shifted his weight away from the car, holding his hands up between them as a signal for Alex to stop. "I'm fine. Really."

But he was more than a little concerned that, even though Alex seemed sated enough to be in control of himself again, the very visible blood might be too much temptation for him to overcome. "Can you...step out of arm's reach for me, please?" he asked, with a sheepish, apologetic smile. "Sorry. It's not personal."

He hadn't realized yet that the blood on Alex was Alex's own, and not spilled from what he'd drank.


Most people would not be able to hold their hands up like no big deal if they had a gash near their elbow, but maybe Ravi was some kind of medical soldier fuck wounds I'm a bad ass?? Alex did not know.

But he obediently backed off. He was still too concerned about all that blood to take anything personally right now.


Ravi hauled himself to his feet and skirted around Alex to return to the trunk. He gave a soft, exasperated sigh when he saw the mess left behind. Now that the danger was averted he had room to be annoyed by the minor shit like that.

He kept a blanket back here as part of his emergency kit, thankfully not buried in the back with the rest of it but instead folded up and packed in near where he kept the first aid kit. It was an old olive drab wool Army blanket, perfect for wiping up blood because no one cared if those things collected stains. He wiped the blood off himself, then got whatever had dripped on the car, leaving the interior of the trunk for later.

When he was done, he stepped back and tossed the blanket to Alex. "Here." He pulled his sleeve down and retrieved his jacket to put it back on. "Are you going to be okay?"

He'd volunteer more blood if he had to, but...eugh... That was not comfortable to think about.


He caught the towel with his right hand. The gears in his brain clicked into place.

"Did you heal yourself?" he asked dumbly.


He opened his mouth to shoot back something snarky, but caught himself. After what had just happened, he couldn't expect Alex to be running on all cylinders. It would be a dick move to act like he should've noticed. "Yes. I'm fine. I promise. Are you?"

'Do you need more blood?' was the question he was actually asking. He really did not want to do that again, but it would be...slightly less unpleasant now that he could access a proper knife.

...fed himself to his best friend...this was so gross...


His brows furrowed. "Yeah. I'm... I'm fine..."

Now that it was established, in Alex's mind, that Ravi was not going to bleed out on the side of the road, he was free to contemplate on what just happened. That he had just been fed someone's blood. A person's blood. His friend's blood, Ravi's blood, that he had felt obligated to give because Alex was trying to take it from him.

Workers in emergency medicine were not easily shaken. Over the course of his paramedic career, Alex had become desensitized to a lot of unsettling shit. None of it had prepared him for this.

Nausea came in like a wrecking ball hit him full force. He turned around and fell into a crouch, but all that came out in his dry heaving was a few specks of blood. This was so fucked up.


Ravi flinched at the sound, but kept a cautious eye on Alex. Only long enough to make sure he wasn't going to be throwing up the blood he'd just been given, because then they'd be right back where they were before.

Once it was established that they weren't headed for a repeat situation, Ravi turned away and closed the trunk. He leaned back against the car, arms folded, watching the empty road behind them while he awkwardly waited for Alex to finish being sick.

He really wished there had been a way to get out of this situation without Alex finding out where that blood had come from. His own position, being the one to offer blood to protect himself, was bad enough. At least he could twist the logic to think of it as donating blood for a field transfusion, but from Alex's perspective? God, he didn't even want to think about how that must feel. Now he felt sick.


Later, his bitterness towards Echoes would resurface, but for now, Alex felt only disgust. His throat was raw and his left hand throbbed as his healing, though faster than normal, was neither instant or fast enough to close up the wound right then.

He remained down, even as the sickness passed. He didn't want to get up. He didn't want to return to Locke City. He wanted to run in the opposite direction and never have to drink another drop of blood again. He wanted to be normal again.

He could, but he couldn't. No, he could, but he wouldn't. But maybe he should? There was nothing Alex had to offer to the Numbers that someone else couldn't supply.

He pushed himself up and looked at Ravi. "You're safe," he said blandly. "I'm not hungry anymore."


Ravi let out a slow breath, continuing to stare off down the highway for a moment after Alex spoke. Ravi wasn't worried about himself. He was absolutely certain he could overpower Alex if he needed to, so long as he managed to avoid being entranced again. He didn't want that to be necessary, so it was indeed reassuring to be told that Alex's unnatural hunger had been sated.

But something about how Alex chose to say it felt wrong. He couldn't quite put his finger on why, but it irritated him.

Since he couldn't place it, he shoved it aside in the corner reserved for unreasonable feelings and turned to face Alex. This time he got a better look at the bloody hand and realized there was a wound underneath all the blood. Concern pushed everything else out of mind, and combined with urgency in his face. He rushed over to Alex and grabbed his forearm, raising it to get a better look at his hand.

"Oh my god--" And then it hit him. Why he'd been annoyed. He fixed Alex with a stern glare, fingers digging into his arm. "I'm safe? I am worried about you, you idiot. I guess that makes one of us."


He immediately took a half step backwards in avoidance, then grit his teeth when Ravi's fingers dug into his arm. He returned the glare with a confused grimace. "I didn't know what else to do."

To stop himself from attacking Ravi.


"Come here," he grumbled, stepping into the space Alex had tried to put between them. He placed one hand beneath Alex's, then shifted the other down from his arm to cover it. Despite his harsh mood, the touch was light and gentle, careful not to hurt any more than it needed to.

His eyes focused intently on what he was doing, partially so he wouldn't be looking at Alex's face but mostly because it was easier to concentrate that way. Gold light poured from between his hands as his magic, warm and soothing, wove flesh and skin back together faster than Alex's supernatural healing could. Any bone or tendon damage, however, was on its own.


Alex had mixed feelings about the healing. He was grateful, but guilty, and envious, too -- not oppressively, but in a way that added fuel to his bitterness about his own Echoed state. He felt it keenly now -- his own Echo had spurred him to attack -- to do wrong -- while Ravindra's Echo was used to heal him -- to do good.

It was good that Ravi wasn't looking at his face. He wouldn't see Alex's miserable glare.

"Thanks," he said gruffly, slipping his hand away. There was still discomfort present from tendon damage, but he wasn't going to bring attention to it. He knelt down to retrieve the army blanket. "Sorry."


Ravi didn't try to stop him from pulling away. He let out a sigh, folding his hands together.

'I didn't know what else to do' meant that Alex had done that to himself. Even under the influence of that hunger, he'd still thought to protect Ravindra however he could. Ravi wasn't mad about that--he couldn't be. He hadn't offered up his blood to save himself. He'd done it to protect Alex from doing something he'd regret once he was well again.

As somebody who struggled with a mental illness, Ravindra was well-aware of what it was like to lose sight of yourself and do things you never would have done if you were thinking clearly. Anxiety wasn't nearly as extreme as something like this, but it was similar enough to let him make the comparison and find sympathy and understanding instead of fear or anger.

He straightened and turned toward Alex, lowering his hands to his sides. "Alex," he said, softly, but pointedly. "I'm not angry with you."


Teeth clenched, he averted his gaze, fingers digging into the blanket. After a moment of struggling to come up with a response, he gave up and turned away to return to the passenger's seat.

Alex had mixed feelings about Ravi's pardon, too. He'd have preferred anger -- anger was justified -- fear was justified -- both would have hurt, but they would have made sense. This-- this acceptance was appalling. He didn't understand how Ravi could pardon two threats on his well-being. It wasn't going to change. Alex was going to be a risk indefinitely, not only to him but to everyone he'd ever interact with.

Constantly fearful of keeping well-fed lest he attack someone out of hunger was not how he wanted to live his life. Drinking blood was not how he wanted to survive. He'd endured it this far, but in the wake of today, he was sick of it.

But he was also comforted, however slightly at the moment, by the fact that Ravi wasn't angry with him or visibly repulsed by him.


In Ravi's mind, it wasn't a threat he couldn't handle. It was something he could monitor, and it was possible to plan contingencies for it. He kept a bottle of garlic powder in his desk in his bedroom, for example. And when they got home, he'd sit down and think up a contingency plan for this.

That was what Ravi did. He accepted that things would go wrong and tried his best to plan for them. It was his way of dealing with the things he couldn't control.

What he was angry about was that Alex didn't seem to care that Ravi was worried about him. Saying he was fine when he had an impalement wound through one hand, assuring Ravi he was safe instead of saying anything about himself and how he was doing. Almost attacking your best friend and then drinking his blood--which was still super gross, he was so glad to not be on Alex's side of that equation--had to be at least a little traumatic, but it seemed like Alex would rather deflect and pretend he wasn't affected than even go so far as to admit that he didn't want to talk about it.

Maybe Ravi just needed to give him some time to process it, though. He said nothing more as Alex walked away from him. He circled the back of car while Alex got in, checking for any obvious signs on the exterior for something amiss. Finding nothing he needed to worry about, he returned to the driver's side and climbed in.

He dug his keys out of his pocket, glancing over at Alex as he stuck the key into the ignition.

Seeing the blood Alex's injury had left on the dash and upholstery, he froze. His expression slowly melted into dismay, and then horror.

"What did you do to my car?!"


The sudden demand made Alex jump. He whipped his head to look at Ravi, then followed his line of sight.

Oh, that.

There wasn't much blood, but there was still enough to (obviously) be noticed. Alex's expression turned impassive and his shoulders relaxed a fraction. "Sorry," he mumbled, remembering the knife at his feet, too. He looked at it, hesitated, then climbed out of the seat. "I'll get it."

He retrieved the knife and set it on the blanket. Alex wasn't familiar with the contents of Ravi's first aid kit, but he was going for his own. He carried a small bottle of hydrogen peroxide precisely for this reason.

(Well, maybe not precisely. He never thought he'd have to remove his own blood from Ravi's car.)


"Oh my god," he called after Alex, "you couldn't stab yourself outside?! You had to do it on my dashboard?"

Leave it to Ravi to be upset at somebody for making a mess of his car and not for trying to eat him.


He opened the backseat door and rifled through his luggage, choosing not to answer. He pointedly ignored the cooler.


"I even let you choose the music for the last sixty miles and this is the thanks I get?" Ravi called back at him. "See if I ever drive you anywhere, again."

He wasn't actually mad about the car, so much as venting adrenaline from the attack he'd just averted. That wouldn't make it any less annoying, of course.


The normality of ravi's indignation over his car rather than the attack fueled by bloodlust was so absurd that Alex started chuckling. The chuckling turned into laughter, and the laughter into a bizarre mix of incredulous mirth and crying.

He tossed the first aid kit Ravi's way, then climbed out and slammed the door shut. Literally at the whims of what others thought of him. God, he hoped Belief wasn't something that could be pulsed back. He would rather die.

He rubbed his face with his hands, sniffed and scrubbed the tears away, then returned to his seat and wordlessly started cleaning the dash, blanket and knife in his lap.


The laughter got an indignant glare, which softened into indignant suspicion as it progressed. Something about that reaction seemed to go deeper than simple amusement at Ravi's outrage, especially once Ravi realized that the laughter sounded a little off.

He caught the first aid kit and set it on the armrest, his gaze drifting back toward the dash as he wondered what was going on in Alex's head right now.

AND THEN THE DOOR SLAMMED. "Don't--" His head snapped up, but the shouted admonition died with a sigh. Suddenly it seemed pointless to be angry about the car. He shoved the first aid kit over to Alex as he climbed back in, resigned.

He sat back in his seat, arms folded, staring distantly down at the steering wheel, while Alex cleaned up the blood in silence.

Alex did not seem okay. And why should he be, after what had just happened? Neither of them could've known this would've happened when they'd first planned on leaving the city, but Ravi had gained an understanding of why some people were afraid to leave, regardless. You just couldn't predict how echoes would hit you when you came back. It was fortunate that Alex had driven back with Ravi and not flown in--his vampire hunger flaring up on an airplane was not a scenario Ravi wanted to explore very deeply.

It was several long moments later that Ravi finally looked up again, toward Alex but not really at him, and broke the silence. "How are you?"

He was quick to follow it with, "And don't do that shit where you brush it off like you're not upset. I don't want to hear that right now."


Wiping the blade on the blanket, Alex considered his answer before wearily saying, "I drank your blood. How do you think I am?"


He turned that extra few degrees to look fully at Alex, his eyebrows tilted in a sympathetically frank expression. His answer was an admission on his own end as well as a guess for Alex's.

"Grossed. Out."


His lips curved up in a brief, humorless smile. He returned the throwing knife to the glove compartment and snapped it shut. Leaning against the door, he closed his eyes and said, "I can't do this."


Ravi gave that a moment's consideration, leaning back and staring out the windshield at the distant silhouette of Locke City.

Only a month ago, Alex had been reluctant to leave, and to leave behind everything the mysterious powers that be in Locke City had decided to grant him. To go from that vehement belief in not forgetting to saying that he couldn't do this--couldn't be what he was becoming, couldn't go back--was that just because he hadn't realized the full extent of the implications back then? Even after attacking Ravi once already?

But Alex did have a way of denying the severity of things. It was a defense mechanism, and one they'd already clashed over more than once. Ravi had been taking all of this seriously from the moment of that first attempt to feed from him--maybe Alex just...hadn't. Maybe he'd been refusing to admit to himself how bad it was until now, when he was forced to acknowledge it.

There were a lot of reasons Ravi didn't want to leave Locke City, but Alex was the greatest of them.

"We can always turn around," he offered, looking over at Alex again. He didn't even know if he meant that seriously. They'd see.


Denying and deflecting the severity of issues was a defense mechanism Alex employed, but it wasn't purely responsible for his seemingly contradictory admission. Alex had taken his dietary change seriously. He had taken it so seriously, in fact, that he equated it to an attempt on Ravi's life -- a viewpoint Ravi had refuted. He had switched over to pig's blood without fuss, even though it grossed him out, because he didn't want to put himself in that position again.

Alex's problem with leaving Locke City wasn't a reluctance to leave behind the Echoes he'd gained. 'Granted' carried positive implications. Alex tolerated his Echoes; he did not embrace them in the same way Ravi embraced his own. His problem with leaving the city lied in the sense of powerless that came from the knowledge that something could tamper with his memories and experiences, both things that made up who Alex was, and he wouldn't even know it It was that unawareness of something so personal that unsettled him.

But faced with the very raw incident of drinking another person's blood, let alone why that blood had been given, and of being reminded once again that he could be taken over by a hunger that shouldn't have existed in the first place, Alex felt caught between a rock and a hard place.

That was what his admission of defeat meant. Neither option was comfortable, and he couldn't decide which was the lesser of two evils. Leave Locke City and live a life that was normal but neatly erased certain experiences without him even knowing it, or return to the city with the worry of losing control and attacking someone constantly nipping at his heels?

"No," he said, eyes still shut, "we can't. I work tonight."


Ravi let out a heavy sigh, unfolding his arms to reach for the key in the ignition, shifting in his seat to a comfortable driving position. He didn't want to argue with that answer, but he had to wonder whether it was being given sincerely or as another deflection.

He paused before turning the key, giving Alex a serious, intense look. "Then you will do this. If you think you can or not."


He didn't have to see the look to feel it, but he kept his eyes closed, not wanting to meet it.

"I know."


A moment's silence, and then he turned away to start the car and pull it back onto the road. There was a lot he wanted to say, but it was all swimming through his head in a disorganized mess of half-formed thoughts, and he couldn't figure out what it was Alex actually needed to hear. The brief expression of self-doubt hadn't actually said anything about what, specifically, was bothering him.

They were a couple miles down the road before Ravi broke the silence, having pulled his thoughts together enough to find something coherent. "Listen, Alex," he started, serious, straightforward. "It is a medical condition. You are a person who has violent episodes if you go off your treatment. That's all it is. That's how you need to look at it."


The silence was enough time for Alex's walls to go up again. He was trying to shut off his mind for a temporary reprieve when Ravi called attention to that which he was trying to block out.

"Okay." It was an agreement, short and dishonest. Who wanted to hear that they had a medical condition that gave them violent episodes? The notion wasn't foreign to him -- absolutely not, given his occupation -- but there was a difference between accepting it in others and accepting it in yourself. The intent behind Ravi's words were sincere, but they did not help him feel better.


It wasn't hard to tell that Alex was brushing him off again, which brought with it a spike of irritation. But rather than let himself lash out, he held it back, reasoning himself away from it. That was just what Alex did. Getting mad about it wouldn't change it, and yelling at him for it wouldn't make him listen.

A deep breath, a few seconds to compose himself, and then he tried again with a different route, letting down his own walls instead of trying to chip away at Alex's. "I have been on medication since I was nineteen. The entire time you have known me, you never have seen me go off it, not even one day. But when I first started I thought, 'oh, this will fix what is wrong with me, I only need to take it until I am fixed.'

"It took a long time for me to realize it doesn't work that way. It is the sort of problem you can manage, only. Not fix. But I could not learn to manage it until I accepted that it is a part of me until I die and it never is going to go away. I could not learn to live with it until I stopped resenting it."


He drew in a heavy breath and let it out slowly. "There is a way to fix this."

They were driving away from it.

Alex wasn't so irresponsible that he would turn and run without settling his resignation and saying his farewells. The 'fix' wasn't an immediate option, but it was an option that he was opening himself up to. He wasn't thinking about the people-- the friends he'd leave behind. His repulsion at his actions was currently overshadowing all other factors.


"I know." And in Ravindra's opinion, Alex was lucky for that. It wasn't an option available to most other people in similar situations. "But you turned it down, so now, you live with it."


"I put it on hold," he corrected, wishing for this conversation to come to a close, but feeling too guilty to say so. "I'm not gonna cut and run."


His chest constricted with a pang of distress at the clarification. Even though he was the one who'd suggested that solution in the first place, it had been a relief to hear Alex refute it.

This felt like a betrayal. Not because Alex intended to leave, and presumably leave him behind. He didn't like that, but he understood why it would be appealing. No, it felt like a betrayal because Ravindra had just opened up to him about his own problems, and the perspective he'd needed to take on them because he didn't have the option of moving away and getting rid of them. He'd offered that very personal epiphany as advice, and Alex had responded by throwing it in his face that actually, he could get rid of his issues any time he wanted, and he planned to as soon as it was convenient, so he didn't need to learn to live with it.

That hurt. It took a struggle Ravi had suffered through and boiled it down to an inconvenience.

Alex was going to get his wish, but not the way he wanted it. "Fine. Forget it," Ravi said, voice clipped, eyes locked on the road ahead. "I'm sorry I said anything."


Alex knew right away that he'd upset Ravi. Initially, he was puzzled -- of everything that had happened in the last hour, admitting that he was considering leaving was what upset him? But then he remembered that his leaving Locke City was not a choice with isolated results. He could resign properly, say his good-byes properly and leave knowing that he had taken care of everything properly -- all of those were within his control.

But the reactions of others were not in his control.

Once he put two and two together and considered where Ravi fell in the picture, not just as a prompt to leave, but as a reminder of what Alex had in Locke City, he thought he understood why Ravi'd become upset. Sadly, he was not accurate.

He just wasn't ready to accept any advice that had him accepting the vampiric side of his Echoes.

He pressed the heel of his palm against his temple. "What'd I say?" he asked, tired. He thought he knew, but he didn't want to say the wrong thing and upset Ravi further.


"It doesn't matter," he replied, in that same poorly forced neutral tone. "You won't remember this when you leave anyway, so, you can just leave it behind with the rest of your problems."

Because Ravi handles his anger like an asshole instead of actually saying what bothers him. At least it did hint that the problem may not actually be abandonment issues.


"Vin, please," he said, casting a weary look his way. "I don't want to make you anymore upset."


"Then maybe," the forced-neutral dropped now, becoming heated and accusatory instead, "don't be a dismissive asshole about something that is not easy for me to talk about."


He dropped his gaze to the dash, brows pinched together. The analog? Alex saw how they were similar, but not comparable. Ravi didn't have the option to magically make his particular problem disappear. Alex did have that option. He didn't have to accept his Echoes, didn't have to learn to manage his thirst, didn't have to constantly worry that he was well-fed.

But he didn't feel like anything good would come from pointing that out, so he didn't say anything about it. Ravi had only been trying to help, and he could appreciate that.

He flexed his left hand and focused on the mild sting of still-recovering tendons. "I'm sorry. Thank you-- for opening up to me." He swallowed and curled his fingers into a loose fist. "I don't know what to do right now, so-- so maybe we should stop talking."


Ravi would maintain that, even if Alex did have the option of leaving and making all those issues disappear, so long as he chose to remain in Locke City, he did have to do all those things. The advice was still relevant because as long as he stayed, those were real problems that needed to be managed.

Ravindra was not ready to accept an apology. He was not ready to stop being angry. But he could acknowledge that the apology meant he needed to stop acting on his anger. For now, the right thing to do was step back and disengage, and let himself cool off enough to approach this reasonably. "Maybe, yes."

Ravi's pattern for this sort of thing was well-worn by now. He stewed for a while, and then he came back to it later to accept the apology, possibly give one of his own, and then moved on. The next several miles may be an awkward, angry silence, but it would be familiar, with the promise of resolution at the end.

For all the things their Echoes had changed, there was so much more that hadn't.