Split Between Stars

Drowning

Vlad stumbled through the darkness. His ragged choked breaths sounded deafening to his panicked mind. Surely the Grangen was bearing down on him this second. Right behind him. Getting closer every second. 

He glanced fearfully backward, struggling toward his only hope. 

Darkness yawned back at him, hiding all dangers in shadow. 

Vlad staggered against the wall. His shallow breaths were catching wetly in his chest. A horrible metallic wetness spread through his mouth and trickled down his throat. His terrible circumstances hit him as he tried to catch his breath. If he didn't stop exerting his lungs he might drown in his own blood. But if he stopped to rest he'd be killed by the Grangen.

A wave of nausea washed over him. The air was getting harder and harder to breathe. It would be so much easier to rest. To just lean against the wall and close his eyes. To let everything end. 

Vlad shook his head furiously, sweaty hair draping over his face. 

No.

It was not going to end like this. 

He clawed his way along the wall, stumbling to his knees here and there. Even when his coughs began to bring up blood and his vision blurred he kept going. 

And suddenly there it was. The door to his office. Vlad stared up at the doorknob, willing himself to move it. His trembling hand felt like it weighed a thousand pounds as he raised it to the handle. Slowly, tortuously, it turned. And the door opened. He crawled inside. Each breath was agony. Oxygen burned through his ruined body with every heavy breath. Blood was now trickling out of his mouth as he lurched ever closer to his stores. He couldn't even remember why he was here. All he knew was that this was life and death. No other options. No other goals. 

He wrenched the cupboard door open and yanked down the rows of small bottles. They tumbled around him, falling softly onto the carpet. Which one? Which one did he need?

His mind felt sluggish and muddled. His shaking fingers fumbled over the glass bottles, searching for something. Something special. 

There. 

He grabbed the bottle of thick purple fluid. The lifesaver. The amazing regenerative blood of a Plygar. 

His fingers scrambled at the seal. 

It didn't open. 

His lungs screamed in burning agony. Tears were coursing down his anguished face. He couldn't open it! He was going to die with the cure clutched in his hand! He panted and choked, wheezing, dying, drowning in his own bloody lungs. 

And suddenly the bottle was open and the cool thick blood he needed was trickling down his throat. He gulped desperately, vision fuzzing to indistinct shapes and movements. 

A cool soothing sensation spiderwebbed through his being. Tissue began to knit together, wounds closing, muscles and blood vessels realigning themselves. Cold clean air began to flow through his lungs once more. He panted, feeling the air rush through his healing body. A few coughs shook his frame as he expelled the pooling blood. relief surged through his exhausted body. He could breathe again. He could think again. 

Vlad's eyes opened. 

Danny was crouched beside him, the cap to the glass bottle still clutched in his hand. 

The second he saw Vlad's eyes open, he stepped back. Vlad noted his hands. They were clenched into trembling fists. His eyes were still burning with rage and confusion and fear. Before Vlad could gather himself to speak, Danny snapped,

"I don't forgive you. I never will forgive you. But I need your help and you need mine. So let's go."