Chapter Text
Five weeks into his stay in the human world, Hunter stops moving.
The lead-up is gradual, but unnoticeable to anyone else. He’s been compensating to make up for it. Sure, he sleeps more than he used to, but they all do. That’s a natural product of the stuff they’ve been through. Sure, it gets hard to breathe if he stands for too long, but he won’t audibly wheeze as long as he leans against something. Sure, he’s too slow to hold his own in a fight, but it’s not like he needs to do combat training here.
He wakes up one sunny day in a blanket pile on the old king-sized mattress that now dominates the floor of Luz’s room, and he can’t move.
Nobody else is around. That’s good. He has a while to gather his strength.
After about an hour - he thinks - it becomes clear that the strength is not returning.
Flapjack twitters, nudging against his jaw. Then pecks his cheek. Then pecks more forcefully. Then grabs his hair and tugs, hard.
It doesn’t really hurt anymore. Even if it did, he can’t do much about it.
Flapjack flies out the open door, leaving Hunter to his own devices. This is also good. He doesn’t want to upset his palisman.
It’s hard to tell the time, now, but he knows it’s not long before feet pound up the steps. Flapjack re-enters the room, Luz hot on his trail. “Hunter, Flapjack is-”
She stops in the doorway. Hunter, safely ensconced in his blanket pile, watches her. He can still open his eyes. That’s probably a good sign.
“Hunter?”
He forms the words to explain that he’s fine, but his jaw won’t unstick.
Hm. Maybe a different approach. Could you tell your mom I’ll do my chores tomorrow? Tell her I’m really sorry. Tell her I’m not trying to be lazy. I’m sorry. I just need to stay here today.
He can’t manage that, either.
Luz comes closer, crouching in front of him. Flapjack twitters at her again. She looks frightened. She sounds frightened, when she speaks. “Hunter, are you sick?”
No? he thinks. I’m fine. Just tired.
Luz touches his hair, which is nice. “It’s the magic, isn’t it? There’s not enough magic here.”
Is that it? That seems like a stupid reason, considering the palismen are fine. Sure, none of them can do magic the way they used to, but if the palismen function, then shouldn’t Hunter? He’s made of their wood. His artificial heart still beats, if sluggishly. His stolen lungs still breathe. He should be fine.
He thinks he’s fine. He’s just being kind of lazy, the way rebellious teens get.
He forms the words to tell Luz this, but he still can’t really talk.
Flapjack hops up to sit on his neck, brushing his wing against Hunter’s ear. It’s nice.
“Okay,” Luz says, on the verge of tears, “okay, okay, hang on. It’s okay, just hang on.”
Hunter doesn’t like that she’s upset. He’s not upset, is the thing. He doesn’t have the energy for that. He would like to explain that she doesn't need to get upset, because he’s just being dramatic and pathetic, but. Well.
Luz taps away at her phone for maybe a solid minute. Then she holds it to her ear. “Mom, I need you home,” she says. “I know, I’m sorry, I need you. I need you. It’s Hunter, he - please, I need you.”
There's a pause, and she speaks again. "No, he's sick. Not food poisoning this time, I don't think. I don't know. He won't talk. He's a - Mom, he runs on magic, I don't know how to make it better. No, more than the others. He's not - he's not like the others."
Hunter doesn’t like that, either. It’s been hard for Camila. It’s hard to find food they can eat and it’s hard to find space they can sleep and it’s hard to keep pointy-eared teens secret from any number of people. He doesn’t like to burden her. She might get in trouble if she leaves work early, she-
“No, it’s okay,” Luz tells him, as she puts her phone away. His face must still be capable of making expressions. “It’s okay, she won’t mind. She loves you. She used to stay home when I got sick, too, she’ll help, she’ll take care of you.”
Hunter isn’t sure he needs to be taken care of. Back on the Boiling Isles, the most logical choice would be to leave him to his dramatics until he either gets over himself or dies. He’s not particularly partial about which happens.
"She won't care that you're a Grimwalker, either," Luz promises. "I'll explain it to her. She doesn't care that Vee is a basilisk, she won't mind. She won't even know what it means. I don't have to tell her everything, either, I - and the others won't care, if we have to explain, but I'll try to keep it secret, I promise. I promise. I won't say anything unless I have to. I know you didn't want me to."
Luz climbs over him, onto the mattress, and lies down pressed up against his back. They still have all the blankets between them, but she hugs him around the middle regardless. She rests her forehead against the back of his skull, her breath cool on his neck.
Something inside Hunter relaxes. He hadn’t realized how rigid his muscles had been. It gets a little easier to breathe.
“You’re gonna be okay,” Luz promises, the same way she had in the Emperor’s mindscape, the same fervency and desperation and terror. “You’re gonna be okay, you’re gonna be okay, it’s gonna be okay.”
Hunter doesn’t really believe her, but he hadn’t back then either, and he’d gotten out alive. Whatever the case, it’s nice to be held. It’s nice to have Luz here. It was nice of Flapjack to bring her. It’s nice to be here, in this warm bed with these warm blankets and the warm sunshine, instead of cast off and dying at the bottom of a pit.
There’s still no strength left in him to tell Luz this. He exhales, and he closes his eyes.