Chapter Text
“You are a dog, and this is your leash--”
The cool air of the sewers welcomed Draal into its arms, languid and soft as it rushed past him. Despite the pain wracking his frame he pushed on. Here they were safe, here he could do no harm, and with guilt tearing at what was left of his mind, Draal put himself back on autopilot.
Stone scraped against stone. Breathe in. Out. What would Kanjigar say of him now, the hollow shell of his son. The young troll chuckled. Draal, son of Kanjigar, protector of Jim Lake, had grown soft.
Like the Sun. His mind swirled with the thought, overtaking him with its intensity. The Decimar, too, waned when night fell on the actions out of his control. When Gunmar allowed him enough presence of mind to know what he’d done.
He rebuilt the dam that burst, memories flooding out faster than he could throw his walls up. Draal fell forward onto the ground, water splashing around him. Perhaps when they noticed he had taken flight they would find him here. Drowned in an inch of tepid water in a forgotten tunnel somewhere under Arcadia.
Time. He had too much of it, trapped in his own head. Reflection became his saving grace but also the last nail in his coffin, as Jim would have said. One of his human sayings. Even though he’d insulted him and even went as far as trying to kill him, the Trollhunter still welcomed him into his life.
Splashing and the sound of hooves on stone dragged him back and Draal caught a familiar flash of purple. He didn’t have the strength to move when Nomura crouched beside him, hovering a hand over the living stone of his shoulder.
“Still kicking, eh?” She pulled her claws close to her palm and leaned away from him. “Any hotter and you might have a chance of winning me back.”
A grunt. Draal attempted pushing through the burning ache from his chest wound, but he collapsed again. A fine mess he found himself in. Nomura snorted. She hefted his arm over her shoulder and wrapped her free arm around him.
“Resting my eyes,” he muttered.
“Of course you were, big guy.”
“Honey, how about you sit down?”
Jim froze. He’d brought out Doctor Lake. The Trollhunter paused his pacing and dropped down onto the couch. Barbara glanced up from the book she was reading and gave him a quick smile. Then, she shut it with an audible click.
“We’ll find him,” she said, putting a hand on his shoulder. “Draal, he’s--”
Silence stretched between them for several moments as she focused on an old water stain in the ceiling. Hm. The right words escaped her, and Barbara wished that just Barbara knew what to say. Not Doctor Lake.
“He survived, Jim. He’ll pull through, I’m sure of it.”
Jim winced. He covered his side with one hand and pulled it away as soon as he had put it there. “Thanks Mom. Hey, I’m going to take a nap.”
And he was gone. She stood up and made her way over to the staircase, leaning against the railing. Another thrilling misadventure in single-parenting. She found his latest school photo on the wall, picking it out from all of the other photos of him through the years. Barbara sighed.
“It could have been worse.”
Jim shut the door behind him and leaned against it. He unzipped his jacket and pulled his shirt up just enough to uncover the bandaged cut in his side, but he hesitated when he started to pull back the bandages. Did he want to see? Jim took a deep breath and tugged the gauze out of the way enough to catch a glimpse of the stitches in his side. It was all a mess of rough, irritated skin that faded to a light violet. Dread settled in the pit of his stomach.
Jim was turning to stone.