River Pactolus
Part 5 - Revan
Characters; Garvin (and others), Merlin, Cassandra, and Revan. The other kids, Rover, and the rest of GRAIN are mentioned in varying degrees.
Word Count; 4,510.
TWs; Swearing, varying levels of dissociation, self-esteem issues, self-worth issues, depression, self-hatred, internalized ableism, suicidal ideation, suicidal thoughts, chronic pain/fatigue, implied/mentioned human trafficking, nausea/vomit, kind of self-harm, panic/anxiety attacks, ‘mild’ flashbacks, general angst, and messy writing/ending. Maybe more? Hard to really say.
Notes; And here’s the snippet with Revan and Cassandra. Merlin is an absolute MVP here. Also, there’s a lot of thought put into Revan’s questions. If you want a mini infodump about each one, let me know. Oh! And hopefully you like all the hints, foreshadowing, and references! I went a bit crazy with them.
*~*~*~*
He was still in the wheelchair when the others got back from wherever they’d been, slightly drifting and nowhere near completely present. He’d still managed a small, shaky wave to them, and the looks of slight surprise and confusion that he actually managed to read on their faces were almost funny enough to him to make him laugh. He didn’t quite have the energy for it, he didn’t quite have the energy for much of anything, but he was fairly certain that he had at least managed a small grin.
-
Either way, the day after that… He’d honestly expected to be back on the couch all day. His legs hadn’t wanted to work at all, his focus had waned again and, well, it had just seemed unlikely to him that he’d be getting off the couch. Up until Altair came nagging at him to eat and it hadn’t seemed… Nearly as shit of an idea as it had the day before. So he had let himself be helped into the wheelchair, as much as using it still seemed like giving up to him. He’d gotten some broth out of it, at least. Not nearly as much as he should’ve, he knew that much, but it was something. His partners had all seemed relieved too, and that had made it seem worth it enough for him. The rest of the day was less clear to him, admittedly. Spent in and out of awareness like most days seemed to be. He was fairly sure that he’d been watching something with the others for most of it though.
-
The next day was a little easier, with him still waking up to being on the couch but being able to maneuver himself around enough to get into the wheelchair on his own. It didn’t seem nearly as bad that day. Especially when Vega came in, probably to try their luck at getting him off the couch, and found him already up. The beam she had on their face at that had been damn near priceless. He’d managed to eat some more without it feeling like a complete waste too, even if he was stuck on broth still because no one wanted to risk anything.
-
The next few days were better too, with him managing to get out of the wheelchair more and more. Not as much as he would’ve liked to, but he also didn’t want to push his luck too much. And staying in the wheelchair more than he probably had to was supposed to mean that he’d be saving energy to be able to get up and around more. Still, even if he wasn’t doing as much as he wanted to be doing or much of anything in general… His partners seemed so happy, so glad, each time that he managed… Anything, really.
-
By the time that a week had passed, he was mostly out of the wheelchair and the kids were back in the house. Which… He hadn’t even known that they’d been sleeping over at Caelum and Tucana’s place. He hadn’t noticed that they weren’t at home. It didn’t come up though, so he didn’t mention it. He didn’t think anyone really wanted him to apologize more than he already had been recently. Not with how worried they all looked every time he did. He tried not to be too upset at himself. He tried not to look too upset at himself, at least. Not when that always seemed to worry them too.
-
Two days after the kids had shown back up, Sandra became the first one he got a chance to make it up to. She’d found him sitting in front of the couch, his back leaning against it and Lent, trying to win a staring contest with the dane. He had been watching… Something, but Merry had turned it off after another amazing something. He was really getting tired of his memory being shit. Either way, he’d been trying to turn it back on and Mer had kept not letting him. So he’d decided that winning a staring contest would make Lin let him go back to watching whatever it was he’d been watching.
-
Sandy’s voice broke the silence, and he tried not to look over at her, tried not to blink as she spoke. “Didja finish Over The Garden Wall yet?” He frowned, and kept staring at Lin. He’d been watching a kids’ show. The fuck had happened? He held his breath, waiting for the dog to blink first. Cass walked around the couch and sat down, speaking again. “Why’re you starin’ at Merlin?”
-
The stupidity of what he was doing hit him like a brick, and he blinked, looking away from the dane and over at Sandra with a small cough. “Uh, he turned the show off ‘fore I finished it.”
-
Confusion passed on her face as she raised an eyebrow. “So you were…” She trailed off for a moment, blinking, and then she laughed at him. The brat. Amusement laced her tone when she spoke again. “You– Didja just lose a starin’ contest with ‘im?”
-
He huffed. “Ya come ov’r ‘ere to laugh at me or d’ya need sumthin’?”
-
She grinned, “‘Course not, Pops. I was, uh, wantin’ to ask ‘bout goin’ to the store, wanted to get something. Everyone else’s busy right now.”
-
He blinked, and reached over for Mer’s collar to help him stand. It made sense. Rev was the only other one actually at home out of the people that could take her to the store, and he was probably working. “Oh, uh, yeah. I ain’ doin’ shit righ’ now so. Y’know.”
-
“Other than losin’ a starin’ contest wit Merlin?”
-
He stared at her for a second, and then shook his head. “Can’t believe yer gon’ bring tha’ up.”
-
Sandra only smiled at him in reply, so he took that as his cue to get up and start moving. It didn’t take too long to get out of the house once he did, at least, the longest part of the process being to get Merry’s harness on and find a cane. He hadn’t left the house for… A while, and he hadn’t really been using much other than the wheelchair and Lin. As soon as he’d found it though, the three of them had been able to leave and start on the walk to the store.
-
It wasn’t too long of a walk, and he probably needed the exercise with how little he’d been getting out. Plus, he wasn’t allowed to drive given how he didn’t have a driver’s license and all. He wouldn’t really trust himself to drive anyways though, not with how many cars he’d crashed in the past.
-
He narrowed his eyes, glanced over at Sandy. “What’re ya wantin’ t’get anyways?”
-
She gave a halfhearted shrug at that. “Oh, y’know… I was just thinkin’ ‘bout tryin’ makeup. I keep seein’ some cool designs an’ shit online.”
-
He hummed, nodding. “Oh, yeah? D’ya know what style s’all in?”
-
“Not really. But they usually say what brands they’re usin’ so. Can’t be all tha’ hard t’figure out.”
-
He shrugged. “Eh, well, sounds ‘bout right.”
---
The store was quiet when they got there, and he took advantage of how little people there were to sit at the end of the makeup aisle as Cass looked through all of the options that the place had. He took a breath, trying not to feel too upset that he was tired from the walk it took to get to the store. He didn’t have a reason to be upset. He’d only just gotten out of a slump. He wasn’t supposed to be upset at progress, even if it was slower than he wanted it to be. He didn’t get to go through a slump and then just immediately be fine again. That wasn’t how it worked. He’d been told that enough times by plenty of people. He should know better than to be upset about progress.
-
Except. He also wasn’t supposed to be telling himself how to feel and getting upset when he felt a way he didn’t think was right. Which was… Also a little confusing. He didn’t really think he should be thinking about it as much as he was. He was honestly just surprised he could remember any of the shit he’d been told before given how long it’d been since he went to a session at all.
-
He didn’t make himself get up until Sandra was ready to check out, which he decided to think was rather kind of him given his track record when it came to being nice to himself. Checking out was too difficult either, even with how shaky his hands were. He probably should’ve worn his gloves to the store but he’d been supposed to give his hands a break from them. So he’d decided not to try and find them before leaving.
-
The cashier kept looking at his hands though. Which meant that maybe he should’ve found and worn the gloves anyway. But, well, it was a little too late to be regretting his choice just because someone decided to be weird about shaky hands. The glances at his face were less weird, in his opinion, given that most people tended to do double takes of his face. The cashier holding his hand as they passed back the change was probably what took the cake for weird though.
-
Up until they spoke, at least, their voice low. “I, uh, just wanted to let you know that you’re doing great and the flowers are such a wonderful way to think to get through everything. And, uh, even if others give you trouble, I think keeping the piercings is a great show of strength.”
-
Which. That had to be what was the weirdest part of the whole interaction. He nodded anyway, slowly, trying not to seem too confused, and pulled his hand away. “Uh, right then.. Thanks?”
-
He shifted back, glanced over to Sandy already grabbing the bag, and tried not to cringe when the cashier spoke again.
-
“Of course, it’s good to see that you aren’t letting their markings define you.”
-
That seemed weirder, somehow. Like they knew something he didn’t or like they had some sort of wrong idea about him. He blinked, looked back at them for a moment, and then glanced at the tattoos on his hands. He hadn’t gotten the original vines from a group of people that he needed to heal from. He hadn’t gotten the original vines from or with a group of people at all. He’d gotten them with…
-
With Sparky, who was– Who was a fucking trafficker. A human trafficker. That– That he– He felt sick, dizzy. He wasn’t sure if the room was spinning or if he was or if he was just so fucking stupid–
-
A hand passed over his side. His throat felt tight. He held his breath for a moment, trying to follow it as it went down to his hip. He tried to breathe when the fingers dug into his skin, bit his tongue and held his breath again when another hand trailed his other hip. He shifted, trying to move away, trying to breathe, and gritted his teeth when the hand on his hip tightened. When the hand that had been trailing down past his hip stopped and held the back of his thigh, slowly inching to where both legs met and pushing them apart and– And–
-
And Merry was licking his face. He wretched his eyes open, not sure when he’d closed them to begin with, breathing heavily and trying to figure out what was happening. He forced up a hand to push Lent away, his heart racing in his chest, and realized that the three of them were outside in an alleyway. He tried to calm down his breathing and ended up coughing as Mer licked at his hand instead of his face.
-
He glanced around to find Sandra sitting on the opposite side of the alleyway, worry clear on her face. He took a breath, pushed Lin’s nose away, and swallowed the lump in his throat before even trying to talk. “I, uh, m’fine, m’all good now. I don’t… I dunno wha’ tha’ was, actually. S’rry ‘bout that.” Cass didn’t look too happy with that answer. He took a breath and forced his hand to find the pull strap on Lent’s harness so he could stand up. “We can, uh, we can g’head an’ go now.”
-
Sandy’s eyes narrowed, she still looked worried. He wished she wouldn’t worry about him. It was supposed to be his job to worry about her. “You sure yer all good now? We can wait a bit longer if ya need, Pa.” She tried to grin. He really needed to teach her how to do a better grin. “Don’t wantcha strainin’ yer back or an’thin’.”
-
He bit his tongue as he took a breath, trying to ignore the hand that passed down his spine. He pulled himself to his feet, switched his hand to the balance handle to give his legs a moment to stop shaking. He grinned right back at Cass. “I’ll be fine, m’back hasn’t broke on me yet.”
-
Other than a slight hint of a laugh at that, the walk back home was quiet, with nausea kept in the back of his throat. But the walk was at least quiet, as quiet as it could be at the moment. Especially given the whispers he could’ve sworn were right in his ears despite not being able to tell at all what was being said. The hands that kept trying to steal his attention were annoying, and he forced himself to stay focused on just putting one foot in front of the other. Lent walking beside him, pushed right into his side, helped more than he wanted to admit.
-
He didn’t want to think about it. He locked the door behind them when they got home in more of a daze than he thought necessary. He pulled Mer’s harness off, let himself put more of his weight on the cane he was holding, and hung up the harness by the door. He tried not to look at his hands as he went about it. He took a breath, waved Sandy off, and reminded himself that he’d put the harness by the door.
-
He stood there for a moment longer before he had to squeeze his eyes shut and swallow the vomit in the back of his throat. He took a breath, tried to push it out of his mind. Everything was fine. He was fine.
-
He ended up in the nearest bathroom, trying to hold back vomit before it went anywhere that wasn’t the toilet bowl. He breathed through his nose, and tried not to think. He didn’t want to think about it. He was missing something. He had to be missing something. He hadn’t– He threw up again. He tried to breathe. He was fine. Even if he hadn’t been at some point, he was fine now. Everything was fine. Freaking out wasn’t going to help anything. He was fine.
-
He stayed where he was for a little while longer, just to try and make sure he wouldn’t throw up when he went to stand. He swallowed the lump in his throat when he did, eyes kept away from his hands as he flushed the toilet and turned the sink on. He winced at the sound of the water and settled on just trying to wash his hands quicker than he normally would.
-
His eyes caught sight of his face in the mirror instead, locked onto the golden spider bite he had on. He froze, stared at it. Nausea crawled back up his throat. He stared at it. He glanced down at his hands, at the vines staring back at him, and tried to stop breathing as heavily as he was. He looked back up at the mirror, at the spider bite glinting in the light of the bathroom. He felt a hand on him, felt himself shaking, trying to get himself to breathe right.
-
He blinked, and realized he’d torn one of the gold piercings out. He took a breath through his nose, stared as blood ran down his lip. He stifled a noise in the back of his throat, tried to breathe, and pressed a hand against his mouth to try and stop the bleeding. He breathed, stared at the vines through the mirror, and then squeezed his eyes shut. He didn’t want to think about it. He’d have to explain what happened though. He couldn’t– Ripping a piercing out wasn’t going to help anything. Freaking out wasn’t going to help anything.
-
He felt– He’d never been so– He hadn’t been bothered by it before. It’d been normal. He’d passed himself between so many people before, so many hands– It wasn’t any different from that. It wasn’t. He hadn’t had an issue with it before. With being passed around and– He hadn’t had an issue with it. He hadn’t. It shouldn’t matter, it shouldn’t feel so– It shouldn’t be making him feel as disgusting as it was. As gross. Wrong. He’d been fine with– He hadn’t known though. He hadn’t known or remembered or– He wanted out. He didn’t want to know. He hadn’t known.
-
He didn’t think he was supposed to know. He held the sink countertop for support, trying not to let himself spiral too much. He hadn’t known. Someone else had. There was no way– With the reaction he was having, someone had to have known and he wasn’t supposed to. But– Fuck, he wasn’t even– He wasn’t sure who he even was. He bit his tongue, stifled whatever noise tried to force its way out of his throat, and slowly moved to rest his forehead against the mirror.
-
He forced his eyes open, tried to think. Tried to ignore the hands he could feel on him, tried to ignore how gross it made him feel. He didn’t want to think about it. He didn’t want to think about how many people, how many hands, he might’ve been passed between. He didn’t want to think about it enough to try and take a guess. He didn’t want to think about it. There wasn’t much to do except to think about it though. He didn’t know– He’d have to explain the piercing. There wasn’t any way he could get out of thinking about it.
-
He tightened his grip on the counter, swallowed the lump in his throat. He wanted out. His skin felt wrong. He wanted out. To get away from it or out of it or– Or something. He couldn’t– It wasn’t the same. He didn’t know why but it wasn’t. He hadn’t– He tried to breathe, tried to fix it enough to figure out what to do. He didn’t know what he could do. He wasn’t sure if there was anything to do. He couldn’t handle this. He couldn’t handle the hands on him, the feeling of eyes and whispers in his ears and teeth biting his neck and jaw and–
-
He pulled his forehead off whatever he’d had it against, fully intending to hit his head back into it, and then remembered his forehead had been laying against a bathroom mirror. He stopped, squeezed his eyes closed again, and slowly put his head back against the mirror. He shifted, pushed himself off the mirror and counter and back into the wall behind him. The feeling of hands followed him and he tried not to think about it as he slipped down the wall, trying to catch his breath.
-
A hand pulled his hair, another trailing his jaw, holding it, and– There was something he could do. He stumbled into standing again, catching himself on the counter with vomit in his throat. He blinked into the mirror with vomit on his lips and completely unsure of when he’d actually thrown up. He breathed through his nose, trying to figure out what he was doing.
-
Sandra kept a clipper and guards in the bathroom. Ones used for haircuts. He couldn’t– His hair couldn’t be pulled if it was too short to pull. It’d help. He couldn’t– He wasn’t helpless, he could do something. He took a breath, tried to calm himself down long enough to find what he was looking for. Tried to calm himself down to actually be able to cut his hair short enough for it to mean something.
-
His hands were still shaking when he found the hair clipper, already with a guard on it. He wasn’t sure what size it was, he didn’t care enough to figure it out. It seemed short enough. That was all that mattered. He stared at the blade of the clipper for a moment, tried to ignore the itch at his wrists, and turned it on.
-
He ran it over the side of his head before he could think himself out of it or his wrists could convince him of cutting something other than his hair. He didn’t think about it, he didn’t let himself think about it. He just ran it through his hair, trying to figure out what exactly he was doing as he was doing it. He’d made worse impulsive decisions before anyway, cutting his hair wasn’t that bad, wasn’t anywhere near as bad as it could’ve been. The idea made sense, at least. Hands couldn’t pull hair that wasn’t there. Which, okay, the hands weren’t really there either but, well– It felt like they were and they had been at one point and he– He couldn’t deal with it. He couldn’t.
-
Lin barking on the other side of the door made him pause, blinking and lowering the clipper in his hand as he looked over at the door. He stared for a second, before what exactly he was doing caught up to him and he just about threw the clipper in his hurry to turn them off. He took a breath, looked at the hair on the ground, and ran a hand through his hair. Mer kept barking, which probably meant that he’d been in the bathroom for too long. He took another breath, squeezed his eyes shut, and sat against the wall again.
-
There was vomit on the floor next to the toilet. He tried not to think about it. He was tired. Lent’s barking was helpful at least, which was probably the point of it and all but still. He pulled his knees up, laid his head against them, and waited. As worrying as it would be to have Merry barking outside the bathroom door, he didn’t feel like leaving the room yet. He didn’t feel like getting on with the day, having to explain why he cut his hair or threw up or tore out a piercing or anything else. He didn’t want to go through all of that yet.
-
When Lin stopped barking, he shifted so his chin was resting on his knees and listened for the sound of footsteps. Two pairs of them coming closer made him lean his head back against the wall too, squeezing his eyes shut and trying not to feel too much like he was wasting time. Like he was being dumb. He wasn’t… Well, he was hurt. But he wasn’t dying and it had already stopped bleeding. So he was fine, or he was at least fine enough that none of the kids needed to get involved.
-
Sirius was the one to speak first, at least, lightly knocking on the bathroom door. “Garvin? Is the door locked?”
-
He blinked in confusion for a moment at the question, taking a second to try and figure out why Vans was asking that of all things. He cleared his throat and answered anyway. “No? I don’t– I don’ think I locked it.”
-
Lacerta didn’t say anything for a moment, and he bit his tongue. When Hex did speak again, he could hear the relief in his voice. “Okay. Do I need to call anyone?”
-
He blinked. That… Made a lot more sense as a question. He considered it for a moment. “No, I, uh. No need. ‘M not dyin’ in ‘ere or an’thin’ like that. Jus’, uh, ‘m jus’ sittin’.”
-
There was another pause. He swallowed the lump in his throat. Specs seemed a lot more hesitant when he spoke next. “Can I open the door?”
-
He looked away from the door, towards the hair on the ground in front of him. He took a breath. “Yeah. Sure. Might as well.”
-
The breath Sirius took was loud enough for him to hear it through the door, and then he was listening to the sound of him opening it. He didn’t look over for a moment, trying to figure out how to explain… Anything.
-
Specs beat him to speaking anyways. “Cassandra, can you go and grab me a broom real quick?” A time passed where nothing was said. He closed his eyes, waited. Footsteps started walking away a moment later, and Vans continued as his own footsteps came in. “Is there anything I can do, right now, to help or is this a ‘waiting for plays’ moment?”
-
He took a breath through his nose, thought about it, and then shrugged. “M’hair was the play. Or most’a it, at least.” He paused, swallowing the lump in his throat. He opened his eyes, glancing at his hands. Hex waited next to him. He moved his eyes to him, took another breath. “D’ya think you could grab m’gloves?”
-
Rev blinked, seemingly like he was actually taking him in, and then nodded. “I’ll go grab them once Cassandra is back with the broom. Along with some stuff to clean the floor, probably. Do you want to see if she wants to help with your hair?”
-
He thought about it, looked away from Vans again, and shrugged. “Eh, ‘s jus’ hair, it’ll grow back an’ all.”
-
Sandra’s voice answered. “Sorry, Pops, I don’t make the rules but I’m definitely doin’ yer hair. No way am I lettin’ you go out callin’ me yer kid in public like that.”
-
He turned his head towards her at that, carefully avoiding Lacerta’s face at the sight of his lip, only to be met with the same grin she’d tried to do earlier. He stared at her for a moment before sighing and shaking his head. “I really need to teach ya how to do a better grin.” She widened it, so he huffed. “Fine, wha'ev'r. Fix m’hair.”
-
Sirius stood back up. “Great, you two get out of the bathroom then so I can clean it and I’ll join the two of you soon.”
-
Cass looked over at Rev. “Ooo, I should totally do your hair too. Can I?”
-
He pushed himself into standing while Specs considered it. After a few seconds, Vans shrugged, picked up the clipper, and held it out towards Sandy. “Well, I don’t see why not. It’d probably be helpful with everyone else anyway.”
Summer Month: 1 
Night 
Clear Moon: 
