28. Recovery: Eryx

CHAPTER 28

RECOVERY

ERYX

T he first thing Eryx became aware of was the beeping. Steady, rhythmic, and annoying as hell. It wormed its way into his consciousness, dragging him back to the land of the living with all the subtlety of a foghorn in a library.

Consciousness, Eryx decided as he struggled to open his eyes, was overrated. Everything hurt. His body felt like it had been put through a meat grinder, then reassembled by a particularly sadistic toddler with a vague understanding of human anatomy and a hot glue gun.

When he finally managed to pry his eyelids open, the world was a blur of white and beige. Hospital, his brain supplied helpfully. Fantastic. Because if there was anything Eryx loved more than near-death experiences, it was the aftermath in sterile rooms that smelled of disinfectant and despair.

As his vision cleared, Eryx's gaze landed on a familiar figure by the window. Alex stood with his back to the bed, silhouetted against the pale light filtering through the blinds. Even from behind, Eryx could see the tension in his shoulders, the way he held himself like a coiled spring ready to snap.

But what really caught Eryx's attention was the stubble darkening Alex's jaw. Alex, who was usually more clean-shaven than a newborn baby's bottom. Alex, who treated his daily shaving routine with the reverence most people reserved for religious ceremonies.

"Fuck," Eryx tried to say, but what came out was more of a pathetic croak. His throat felt like he'd gargled with sand and chased it with a glass of battery acid.

The sound, pitiful as it was, was enough to catch Alex's attention. He whirled around, his eyes widening as they met Eryx's. For a moment, neither of them moved. Then Alex was at his side in two long strides, his hand hovering uncertainly over Eryx's arm as if afraid to touch him.

"Hey," Alex said, his voice rough with what Eryx suspected was a combination of relief and lack of sleep. "Welcome back to the land of the living. How are you feeling?"

Eryx tried to answer, but his throat rebelled against the idea of speech. Instead, he managed a weak smile and a vague hand gesture that he hoped conveyed "I feel like death warmed over, but I'll live."

Alex, bless his grumpy, overprotective heart, seemed to get the message. "Water?" he asked, already reaching for a cup on the bedside table.

Eryx nodded gratefully, wincing at the way the simple movement sent sparks of pain shooting through his skull. Mental note: no head-banging for a while. Apollo's rockstar aspirations would have to wait.

Alex returned with a cup of ice chips instead of water. At Eryx's questioning look, he explained, "Doctor's orders. We need to take it slow. Your throat... well, let's just say you did a pretty good impression of a heavy metal vocalist for a while there."

As Alex helped him sit up, Eryx couldn't help but study his partner's face. The stubble was even more noticeable up close, a salt-and-pepper shadow that made Alex look older, more worn. There were dark circles under his eyes, and a tightness around his mouth that spoke of long hours of worry .

"You look like shit," Eryx managed to rasp out after a few ice chips had soothed his throat enough for speech.

Alex barked out a laugh, the sound startled and a little raw. "Yeah, well, you're not exactly ready for your close-up either, sunshine."

Eryx managed a weak grin. "Liar. I always look fabulous."

"Sure," Alex agreed dryly. "If by 'fabulous' you mean 'like something a hellhound dragged in, then played fetch with for a few hours'."

They lapsed into silence as Eryx continued to suck on ice chips, letting the cool moisture soothe his abused throat. He could feel Apollo's presence in the back of his mind, a warm glow of divine energy working to heal his battered body. But even gods had their limits, it seemed.

Finally, when he felt like he could string more than two words together without his vocal cords staging a revolt, Eryx asked the question that had been burning in his mind since he woke up. "Odin?"

Alex's expression tightened almost imperceptibly. "Back in Asgard," he said. "Thor and Brynhildr went with him. He wanted to stay longer, to thank you personally, but..."

"But Asgard needed him," Eryx finished, understanding. The life of a god was never simple, especially not for the Allfather. "It's cool. I get it. Saving the Nine Realms probably takes precedence over a bedside chat."

Alex nodded, a hint of a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. "He did want me to pass on his gratitude. Apparently, you impressed him with your 'valor and fortitude in the face of overwhelming adversity'." The last part was delivered in a passable imitation of Thor's booming voice.

Eryx snorted, then immediately regretted it as pain lanced through his head. "Ow. Remind me not to laugh for, oh, the next century or so." He paused, considering. "Valor and fortitude, huh? That's a fancy way of saying I screamed a lot and didn't die. "

"Hey," Alex said, his tone suddenly serious. "Don't sell yourself short. What you went through... it would have broken most people. Hell, it would have killed most people. You held on. You fought. That's not nothing, Eryx."

The intensity in Alex's eyes made Eryx want to look away, but he held his gaze. There was something there, something raw and vulnerable that Eryx wasn't used to seeing in his usually stoic partner.

"Yeah, well," Eryx mumbled, suddenly feeling uncomfortable with the praise. "I had a pretty good reason to hold on. Couldn't let you have all the fun saving the world without me, could I?"

Alex's expression softened, and he reached out to take Eryx's hand, squeezing it gently. "No, I suppose not. We do make a pretty good team."

Eryx squeezed back, grateful for the contact. It grounded him, reminding him that this was real, that he had made it out of that hellish ordeal. He was here, he was alive, and Alex was with him.

After a moment, Eryx cleared his throat and asked, "What about Fenrir? Last I remember, things were getting pretty hairy. Pun absolutely intended."

Alex sighed, running his free hand through his hair. "It's... complicated. As a sort of thank-you gift, I guess, Odin granted Fenrir the freedom he's been wanting."

Eryx's eyebrows shot up. "Seriously? Mr. 'I-chained-up-my-own-grandson-because-of-a-prophecy' actually let Fenrir go?"

"With conditions," Alex clarified. "Fenrir's allowed to stay here, in our realm. But if he causes any trouble, it's straight back to magical wolf jail."

"Huh," Eryx mused. "That's... surprisingly reasonable, actually. For a god, anyway. So, what, we've got a giant wolf roommate now? Because I've got to tell you, our apartment is not zoned for mythical creatures."

Alex chuckled. "No, he's not moving in with us. Though the mental image of Fenrir trying to curl up on our couch is pretty entertaining. No, he's... well, let's just say he's exploring his options. Last I heard, he was considering opening a dog training school."

Eryx blinked. "You're shitting me."

"I wish I was," Alex said, his lips twitching with suppressed laughter. "Apparently, he figures who better to teach dogs than the ultimate canine, right?"

"Oh my god," Eryx wheezed, torn between laughter and disbelief. "Please tell me someone's going to film that. I need to see Fenrir in a 'World's Best Dog Trainer' t-shirt."

"I'll see what I can do," Alex promised, his eyes twinkling with amusement. But then his expression sobered.

Eryx leaned back against his pillows, feeling suddenly exhausted. There was so much to process, so many questions still unanswered. Loki and Ares were still out there somewhere, no doubt plotting their next move. The Nine Realms were in turmoil. And here he was, stuck in a hospital bed, feeling like he'd gone ten rounds with the Hulk.

"Hey," Alex's voice cut through his spiraling thoughts. "I know that look. Whatever you're thinking, stop it. You need to rest, to heal. The world's not going to end in the next few days."

"You don't know that," Eryx countered, but there was no real heat in his words. "For all we know, Loki could be out there right now, I don't know, teaching squirrels to commit tax fraud or something."

Alex snorted. "If he is, then the alphabet agencies can deal with it. Right now, your job is to get better. Doctor's orders. And mine."

Eryx raised an eyebrow. "Oh? And since when do you give me orders, oh former Lord of the Underworld?"

"Since always," Alex retorted, but his tone was fond. "You just usually ignore them."

"True," Eryx conceded. He yawned, feeling the pull of sleep tugging at him despite his best efforts to stay awake. There was still so much he wanted to ask, so much he needed to know. But his body, it seemed, had other ideas.

Just as Eryx was about to surrender to the siren call of sleep, the door to his hospital room swung open. Finn, their team's resident medical expert and all-around miracle worker, strode in. The expression on his face made Eryx's stomach do an uncomfortable flip. He'd seen that look before, and it never preceded good news.

"Hey, Doc," Eryx managed, trying for a casual tone that fell woefully short. "Come to tell me I'll live to annoy another day?"

Finn's lips twitched in what might have been an attempt at a smile, but his eyes remained serious. "Eryx, Alex," he greeted them, his gaze flicking between the two. "How are you feeling, Eryx?"

"Like I went ten rounds with a bear and lost spectacularly," Eryx quipped. "But hey, I'm conscious and talking, so that's a win, right?"

Alex, who had tensed at Finn's entrance, leaned forward. "What's going on, Finn? Is everything okay?"

Finn hesitated, and in that moment of silence, Eryx felt his heart rate spike. The steady beeping of the heart monitor picked up pace, betraying his anxiety.

"Physically, you're recovering well," Finn began, his tone carefully neutral. "But there's something I need to check. Eryx, can you feel your magic?"

The question hit Eryx like a bucket of ice water. His magic. In all the chaos and confusion of waking up, he hadn't even thought to check. It was such a constant part of him, like breathing or the beat of his heart. The idea that it might not be there...

"I... I don't know," Eryx admitted, hating how small his voice sounded. He closed his eyes, reaching inward for that familiar wellspring of power, the warm glow of Apollo's divine energy that usually thrummed just beneath his skin.

Nothing. Where there should have been a radiant source of light and power, there was only... emptiness. A void where his magic should be.

Eryx's eyes snapped open, panic clawing at his throat. "I can't feel it," he gasped, his voice rising with each word. "It's not there. Why isn't it there?"

Alex was on his feet in an instant, his hand finding Eryx's and squeezing tight. "Breathe, Eryx," he urged, his voice low and steady. "Just breathe. We'll figure this out."

Finn stepped closer, his expression grim but compassionate. "What about Apollo? Can you sense his presence at all?"

Eryx forced himself to take a deep breath, trying to calm the frantic beating of his heart. He closed his eyes again, reaching deeper this time, past the void where his magic should be, searching for that divine spark that marked his connection to Apollo.

There. Faint, like a whisper on the wind, he felt it. A gentle hum of divine energy, so weak he might have missed it if he weren't looking so desperately. But it was there.

"I... I can feel him," Eryx said slowly, opening his eyes. "But it's like... like there's something in the way. A wall or a barrier or something. I can sense Apollo, but I can't reach him."

Finn nodded, as if this confirmed something he'd suspected. "It seems that the core of your magic has been... drained, for lack of a better term. Your soul bond with Alex is still intact, and your connection to Apollo exists, but it's been severely weakened."

The words hung in the air, heavy with implications that Eryx's mind shied away from. No magic. No connection to Apollo. What did that make him? Who was he without the power that had defined so much of his life?

"The ritual," Alex growled, his voice low and dangerous. "This is what they were trying to do, isn't it? Steal Eryx's power?"

Finn nodded grimly. "It appears so. A magic transfer ritual of this scale... it's unprecedented. We're in uncharted territory here."

Eryx barely heard them. His mind was racing, memories of the ritual flooding back in a torrent of pain and fear. The searing agony as his power was ripped away, the feeling of being unmade, of losing a fundamental part of himself.

"Hey," Alex's voice cut through the rising tide of panic. "Eryx, look at me. Focus on me."

Eryx dragged his gaze to Alex's face, anchoring himself in those familiar features. The stubble that spoke of sleepless nights, the worry lines etched around eyes that held a universe of love and concern.

"That's it," Alex encouraged, his thumb tracing soothing circles on the back of Eryx's hand. "Just breathe. We're going to figure this out, okay? You and me. Together."

"But what if-" Eryx started, his voice cracking. "What if it's gone for good? What if I can't... what if I'm not..."

"Don't," Alex cut him off firmly. "Don't even go there. You are so much more than your magic, Eryx. You're brave, and stubborn, and infuriatingly clever. You've faced down gods and monsters with nothing but a smart mouth and sheer force of will. That's not something any ritual can take away from you."

Eryx wanted to believe him. God, how he wanted to. But the emptiness inside him yawned like an open wound, a constant reminder of what he'd lost.

"I don't know who I am without it," Eryx admitted in a whisper, voicing the fear that clawed at his heart. "I've been Apollo's vessel for so long... what if there's nothing left of just me?"

Alex's expression softened, a mix of love and exasperation that was so quintessentially him that it made Eryx's heart ache. "Then we'll figure it out together," he said simply, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. "We'll rediscover who Eryx Ross is, magic or no magic. And I'll be right here with you, every step of the way."

Finn cleared his throat softly, reminding them of his presence. "We'll run more tests," he promised. "And I'll consult with some contacts who specialize in this kind of magical trauma. We're not giving up, Eryx. Not by a long shot."

Eryx nodded, not trusting himself to speak. The fear was still there, a cold knot in his stomach. But alongside it, a tiny spark of hope had ignited. He wasn't alone in this. He had Alex, he had the team. Whatever came next, he wouldn't face it alone.

As Finn excused himself, promising to return with more information soon, Eryx found himself fighting to keep his eyes open. The emotional toll of the revelation had drained what little energy he'd managed to regain.

"Sleep," Alex urged gently, seeing Eryx's struggle. "I'll be here when you wake up. We'll face this together, I promise."

Eryx wanted to argue, to insist that he was fine, that they needed to start working on a solution right away. But his body had other ideas. As his eyelids grew heavy, he managed to mumble, "You better be. Don't want to wake up to find you've run off to punch Loki without me."

Alex's quiet chuckle was the last thing Eryx heard as he drifted off. "Never," came the soft reply. "We're in this together, remember? Always."