Chapter Text
The first sign that something is wrong isn’t the terrible headache, but the silence.
Cooper sits up. The nausea that roils his stomach distracts him enough that it takes him longer than it should’ve to realize he doesn’t remember lying down. His room is dark; the curtains over his windows are heavy, and only a small amount of the mid-afternoon sun slips through.
Something shifts in the corner of his vision.
Absolutely not, he thinks. There’s a string of curses waiting on his tongue, but his mouth is too dry to even consider speaking, so he turns away from the dog looming over him and hunches over his phone.
He sends a text. There are several typos; his hands are shaking, and he finds he doesn’t really care.
Wgere are yo uu. What hapened
The murmuring from the other side of the door stops. Something Cooper hadn’t registered until it was gone, and the new depth of the silence choking the room makes him want to get up; walk around; leave; anything; but the eyes in the corner are telling him to stay. He doesn’t look away from the screen in his hands.
After several long moments:
I was hoping you could tell me.
Coop gets the feeling he’s done something terrible.
Several minutes pass with nothing else from Drifter’s end. Of course he’s waiting for more. It’s only that Coop has nothing to offer except a wall of black glass between him and his memories from...however long ago. He looks at the timestamp on his phone. Two in the afternoon. The clock ticks closer to three, and Coop doesn’t miss that his first question has been left unanswered.
The doorknob turns. It’s not Drifter who’s behind it.
What are you doing here? he wants to ask. But Guardian has a cup of water in their hands, and the way they hesitate before stepping further into the room is telling enough. They stop by the bedside, holding the glass out; Cooper takes it gratefully.
Guardian looks as sick as Coop feels, when he’s finished drinking.
WHAT? he asks.
That’s not his voice.
It’s not a voice at all, to be exact: like jacked up radio static projected right through his brain. Guardian’s too, if the way they flinch is anything to go by, and Coop barely hears it when he drops the cup, hands flying to his face.
To the space where his face used to be. What the fuck.
He nearly falls off the bed getting off of it. There’s a mirror on the inside of his closet door, and he hears Guardian saying his name as he wrenches it open, but there’s no room in him to respond as he stares at what he sees.
He wants to break it. He wants to curse. He wants his brother, his sister.
Is this your fault, he wants to ask. Is this you getting your revenge?
But Anubis is gone.