Author's Note: Oof. Rough one for a Monday.
15. Your Voice has Chased Away all the Sanity in Me
Mitch approached the Primus with his head bowed.
"You came empty handed?" The low voice drawled.
Mitch shook his head. "He is with your guards."
The Primus eyed him for a moment before calling out, his voice booming. "Bring him in."
The doors opened again, and Mitch fought against rushing towards the large guard who held the sheet-covered body in his hands.
The guard approached, and let the contents of his hands fall to the ground with an unceremonious thud.
Mitch felt the growl deep in his own throat. The Primus laughed.
"Bring him to the table."
The guard crouched down and took the body in his hands again, bringing it to the table before letting it fall from his grasp again.
"Leave us," the Primus ordered. The guard bowed, and was gone.
"We'll bring him back to life first. We will let his wounds heal, and then we will begin the process of changing his timeline."
Mitch nodded.
The Primus got right to work taking the sheet off. Mitch nearly gagged at the sight as Scott came into view.
"First time seeing my guards' handiwork?" The Primus asked. But before Mitch could answer, the Primus reached forward, cupping Scott's cheek.
"At least they didn't damage his face."
He continued to unwrap the blond, and Scott's tattered, bloodstained clothes nearly fell off of his frame.
What lay below those clothes was aggravated flesh, open wounds, and exposed bone.
Mitch couldn't look away.
"They really did a number on this pretty body," the Primus teased, pulling Scott's torn shirt off the rest of the way. "Give me the blood."
Mitch complied, unable to peel his eyes away from Scott's collarbone, which was fully exposed through a gaping wound. Mitch's stomach churned.
The Primus began the same ritual that Mitch had seen his mother complete many times.
The flames, the muttering, the kiss to the forehead. It was all the same.
The heart-wrenching scream was also the same.
Mitch rushed forward, grabbing his hand.
"I'm so fucking sorry," Mitch whispered, unsure of anything else that he could say.
The Primus poured a vial of liquid over his hand as he watched, quietly, and approached them. Mitch watched with narrowed eyes as he looked down at Scott's struggling form, as Scott struggled to breathe.
His lungs were clearly punctured. He couldn't take a breath.
The Primus laid his soaked hand on Scott's chest, and Mitch fought against the urge to tear the man's fingers off for touching him.
But Scott could breathe as soon as that hand came to rest.
"Breathe deeply," the Primus said, softly. Scott did so desperately, taking a deep breath as the Primus' hand roamed from his left side to his right. "Good, that's it. Again."
Mitch nearly collapsed at the soothing sound of the monster's voice as Scott took shaky breath after shaky breath, each one coming more easily to him than the last.
"Good job, sweetheart," the Primus nearly whispered. Mitch's fingers itched to slap the man across the face. "It's almost over."
How dare he pretend to care?
Scott's blue eyes reflected pure agony as he looked into Mitch's brown ones. But they also reflected something else.
Fear? Betrayal?
But the blue eyes blinked shut, and his breaths evened out, shallowly.
"He's passed out from the pain," The Primus said, his voice still abnormally gentle.
Mitch could only nod, as he wiped his eyes frantically.
The Primus leaned forward, placing another kiss to Scott's forehead, allowing his lips to linger against the skin there. Mitch nearly screamed his protest, but then he realized what was happening.
The wounds were healing before his eyes.
The Primus straightened out his posture again. "Thought he could use a little boost," he muttered, still eyeing Scott as he breathed more regularly.
"I'll be back in a bit. I'll let you have a moment."
And Mitch was left alone with his suffering love, wondering what the hell had just happened.
The Primus re-entered the room twenty minutes later, and made a beeline straight for Scott, who was still passed out.
He picked Scott up bridal-style, and gestured for Mitch to follow.
Mitch had never seen anything like it.
It was room full of gears and clocks. An entire wall of moving metal and glass.
Like they were inside of a pocket watch.
In the center was a table similar to that on which Scott had just been revived. But there was one distinct difference: Leather straps. One for each arm and each leg, and one for his head.
"The straps probably aren't necessary, right?" Mitch whispered, as the Primus laid Scott down, gently.
The Primus clearly didn't agree, and tightened the leather around Scott's arms, first.
The Primus approached the wall, looking at it with a puzzled expression before calling Mitch over.
"This is it. What's your decision?" The Primus spoke quietly, with no emotion.
Mitch eyed one of the glass watch faces. Instead of numbers, it held many different causes of death. Like a roulette wheel from a horror movie.
"Old age."
The Primus laughed. "Yes, well that's what the death date manipulation is for. We have to be more specific. Heart failure in his sleep?"
Mitch looked around at the other options, feeling his stomach churn painfully again as he read them.
Violent Crime. Accident. Illness. Suicide.
There were smaller watches surrounding it, clearly indicating more specific sub-methods.
Violent Crime: Stabbing, Bludgeoning, Shooting
Mitch decided to look at another one.
Illness: Cancer, Heart Failure, Autoimmune Disease
There were subdivisions of even these.
It would have taken Mitch all day to read through each one.
"Heart failure in his sleep is fine," Mitch finally replied, unable to read through any more.
"And the date?"
"Can I ask you something?" Mitch asked, instead of answering. The Primus appeared taken aback.
"You may."
"A mortal body probably isn't built to last like ours."
"That isn't a question."
"No, I mean... I shouldn't make his death day, say, 300 years from now, right? His body will suffer."
The Primus appeared to be thoughtful, and Mitch was surprised that he didn't simply laugh at the stupidity of the question. "I would keep his life on the longer side of a mortal one. I wouldn't go much more than... seventy more years?"
It was a thoughtful answer that Mitch hadn't been ready for.
"Okay. Yeah... let's bring him to one hundred. So I need 73 more years." Mitch replied.
He couldn't believe that this was working. He had heard that there were times when the Primus kept his word, but he had assumed that there had been too much family history there for him to have mercy on him.
"Okay. Have a seat. I need space to work." The Primus said absently, still eyeing the hundreds of gears that lay on the wall. He gestured to a chair close to the table, and Mitch complied.
But as soon as Mitch sat, he realized his mistake.
Metal clasps shut over his arms and legs, binding him in a manner similar to those which bound Scott in the center of the room. Mitch attempted to shift the entire chair, but it was bolted down.
The Primus turned to him with a smile. "But let's have some fun first," he said with a cheerful voice. He approached Scott's unconscious figure like a shark in the water before placing another kiss to the blond's head.
Scott awoke with a start and pulled at his restraints with a small cry.
Those noises were enough for Mitch to see red.
"Don't you fucking dare... don't you touch him," Mitch snarled, pulling at his own restraints frantically.
"Good morning, sweetheart. I've been dying to meet you. So much so, that I had someone steal your blood for me... so that Mitch would be desperate enough to bring you right to my door," the Primus whispered, just loud enough for Mitch to hear. He reached out, stroking Scott's throat with his bony fingers. Mitch could just make out the tears in Scott's eyes.
He had doomed him.
This was entirely his fault.
He had given him to this demon to tear apart.
His body, his soul... everything.
The Primus took off in one fluid motion across the floor to the wall of gears. He turned one that Mitch couldn't make out. He knew that it was in the area where the timeline gears were located.
Then he approached the gears where Mitch had read several different methods.
And then, much like his mother had described, the Primus gave one of them a forceful spin.
"Poison," the Primus announced, happily, as he sauntered over to a cabinet, mulling over its contents. He grabbed one and made his way back towards the blond. "This one is fun. You'll make cute noises."
He withdrew a syringe, and plunged it into Scott's neck, emptying its contents into the suffering man.
The seizure began almost immediately.
It was violent, and it was torture to watch, as Scott's eyes rolled into the back of his head. He foamed at the mouth as his head rolled back, the tremors causing the entire table to shift.
The Primus reached out a hand to cup his cheek again, laughing gently as the body beneath him convulsed.
Either time stopped entirely, or Mitch went into shock as he watched, because it seemed as though hours had passed when Scott's body finally fell still.
"He died again," the Primus muttered, continuing to run his thumb along the blond's cheekbone. "Pity. This will be, what? The third time we're reviving him? His soul is really going to start to hurt."
Mitch bit his tongue from retorting that it was in fact the fourth time that Scott would be revived.
He doused his hand in another vial of liquid, and placed it to Scott's chest again.
Then, he placed his lips to Scott's, and appeared to breathe into his mouth.
Scott gasped for air, but the recovery was quick, this time. His breathing became more shallow and even, and he glanced to his side, locking eyes with his heartbroken boyfriend.
There was that unnamed emotion again.
"Let him go," Scott whispered. "Please, let Mitch go?"
"Hear that, Mitch?" The Primus asked, eyeing Scott with a sad expression. "He's more worried about you than he is about himself. Isn't that nice? What a sweet soul, you have here."
He crossed the room and gave the gears another spin.
"Ah, this will be interesting. Lung cancer. It'll be nice to see it spread so quickly."
He turned and watched as the blond struggled to breathe again, his breaths coming out in sputters and gasps.
Scott struggled to breathe for what felt like an eternity. Mitch would have given anything for it to end.
"That's three hours. What do we think? Do I put him out of his misery?"
"Please," Mitch whispered, unable to watch anymore.
The Primus was silent for a moment, but replied, "Nah. It'll take him naturally, soon enough."
The breaths became more and more shallow as the next few hours wore on. The Primus watched with patient eyes.
"Dead. That took 7 hours." His voice held a tone of disgust.
He repeated the process.
Dousing his hand.
Placing it to Scott's chest.
Breathing life back into Scott's mouth.
Spinning the wheel.
Laughing.
"Heart attack."
"Mauling."
"Burning."
"Drug overdose."
It lasted all night, and each time Scott awoke, his eyes reflected less and less life.
His body fought against what was happening to it less and less.
By the seventh revival, Mitch wasn't even sure that Scott had been brought back to life at all.
Mitch could hardly see through his tears, and his heart had stopped aching a few years ago. Now he could only watch, silently, a numbness in his chest that continued to spread through him.
"Let this be a warning," the Primus said, casually, as he unhooked the leather straps surrounding Scott's biceps. "that I am the only one who can do this. So you need to stop messing with fate. You do it again, and I'll make sure that he will suffer far worse. What I did to your father will look like a joke. You will stop insulting my abilities. Understood?"
Mitch watched in silence as the Primus unhooked Scott's ankles. His throat felt like it was full of sand.
"I said... understood?" The words dripped with venom.
"I... understand."
The Primus approached his wall of clocks again, and spun the giant clock in the center, watching as it stopped.
"Congratulations. He'll live another six months."
He spun one of the smaller ones. "Unfortunately, his method will not be quite as pleasant as dying in his sleep. Show yourself out."
And with that, the metal clamps surrounding Mitch released him.
"Don't try to transport yourself in this room. Though I'm sure that was the first thing you tried to do. Obviously, it doesn't work in here. You'll have to bring the mortal to the threshold. Then you can travel freely."
Mitch fought against arguing. He wondered if the Primus was really going to let him go, instead of forcing him to stay for ten years, but he bit his tongue again.
His legs trembled as he approached Scott, reaching out an unsteady hand to brush the blood and sweat-soaked hair from his forehead.
Scott's eyes were closed, and his breathing remained shallow.
"Love?" Mitch whispered. He cupped the pale cheek. "Love? Wake up for me, please?"
The blue eyes blinked open, but instead of the vibrant cerulean hue that had always taken Mitch's breath away, they were a pale powder blue. And they looked tired.
"I have to get you out of here," Mitch muttered, searching the room. "Can you walk if I help you?"
Scott simply stared at him.
"Love?" Mitch whispered, desperately. "Say something?"
The pale blue eyes welled with tears and Scott took a shaky breath.
"Get... away from me."