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Death and decay hung in the air. The stale heaviness of sickness wafted through the city, drenching the streets with misery. Barely a soul was in sight in what was once a bustling city, the cobblestones dusted over with dirt from disuse. That night it was being washed away by a cold rain, chilling those caught outside to the bone.
One of those few people was walking briskly through the street, head tipped down to avoid the rain. His shoulders sagged with the weight of what he was about to do, right hand gripping the mask he so hated. Dressed in black robes, he never felt so much like a villain.
The height of the plague was upon Europe, wiping out nearly everyone it touched. He’d seen whole cities crumble under its attack, unable to do anything but watch. His usual aloofness was lost to him as he became one of the only who could comfort those who were on their deathbed.
Druig rapped his knuckles against a wooden door, slipping his doctor’s mask over his face. The smell of herbs assaulted him, stuffed into the long nose of the mask. Donning that and his robes, he looked like the reaper coming to collect his dues.
A woman with tear-rimmed eyes answered his knock, holding a white kerchief to her nose. The moment she saw him, she broke into a fit of sobs. He was used to this by now, merely pushing past her out of the rain.
The home reeked of sickness, humid from the fire they’d built to keep their loved one as comfortable as they could. He lay on a cot next to the fire, sweat coating his body as he trembled under the blankets.
Druig clenched his fists, willing himself to relax. He’d done this more times than he could count, what was one more?
“How long?” He asked to no one in particular.
“Four days.”
He turned his head down to peer at a young girl, probably no older than sixteen. Her dark hair was pulled out of her face, and she sat with a boy in her lap. They looked exhausted, as if their grief had taken everything out of them.
“Your father?”
She nodded, glancing back at the sobbing woman, “And my mother.”
Druig didn’t acknowledge her as he strode toward the bedridden man. Pulling back the covers, he winced at the tumors on the insides of his thighs, black spots already spreading across his arms. Death would find him soon.
Pulling up a chair, Druig sunk down into it, taking the man’s frail hand. His eyes fluttered open, and he squinted at him, “Doctor?”
Druig nodded.
“Am I…going to die?” He asked, pausing to catch his breath between words.
Druig hesitated. Why did they always have to ask him? He wouldn’t lie to them, the people he tended to. It was cruel to give hope when there was none. Nonetheless, it wasn’t easy to tell someone their already short life was coming to an end.
“Yes.” He said quietly, feeling a slight squeeze from the man’s hand as he held it.
The man’s eyes closed, and he let out a choked sob. The sound cut through Druig’s chest like a dagger, lodging in his mind to haunt him later.
“Your name, sir?” Druig asked softly.
“Charles.”
“Do you have a last will and testament?”
Charles shook his head, the action physically paining him, some of the tumors lining his neck from the plague having ruptured, “I leave everything to my wife and children.”
“Then it will be.”
His breathing turned to short rasps, and Druig resisted the urge to move away from him as he started coughing up blood. It misted through the air, and if it weren’t for Druig’s advanced immune system, he would undoubtedly catch the disease.
It was because of that immune system that he’d become a plague doctor, arriving to the homes of those doomed to die. He heard people whisper of him in the streets. Angel of Death is what he was called, because he had a natural affinity to calm the dead, at least that’s what they believed.
Druig easily entered Charles’ mind, his hand tightening around the older man’s. He willed him to relax, letting a peaceful calm flow between them. He sent him a vision of crashing waves over smooth rocks, a deep emerald forest stretching out for miles, wind whispering through its leaves. Mountains rose in the background, capped with snow. Charles was standing on the shore, his face tipped up to the sky with a smile.
That was how he died, wrapped up in Druig’s memory. He could no longer feel the pain overtaking his body, the crushing fear of death, or sorrow for a life cut short and a family split in two, because Druig had taken that for himself.
Gently setting Charles’ hand down on the cot, he rose from his chair and slipped the blanket over his face. The woman at the door let out a wail that curdled his blood, the young girl staring at her father’s body in a daze.
“They’ll be along for him soon.” Druig told her, “It would be best to say your goodbyes now.”
He ripped the mask from his face as soon as he stepped outside, baring himself to the rain. It poured over him, washing away the stench of the house. His hands trembled uncontrollably as he panted up into the night, his stomach retching. Leaning on the brick wall of a nearby house, he vomited into the gutter.
He’d done this a thousand times, but the feeling of death overtaking his humans was something he’d never get used to.
“Mr. Druig!”
He was standing outside on an unusually nice day, reveling in the wind in his hair as the young boy he’d befriended came running up to him. He was ten, all smiles and brown curls, and looked up to Druig for some reason or another.
“Pierre, how many times have I told you not to be out and about like this?” Druig asked, crossing his arms, “Where’s your mother?”
“She doesn’t know I snuck out.” Pierre said sheepishly, dropping the ball in his arms to the ground, “Just for a little while?”
“No.” Druig waved his hand in the direction of the boy’s house, “It’s dangerous, Pierre.”
“What about you?” He asked, “Isn’t it dangerous for you?”
“I’m a doctor.”
“So? Doctors still get it.”
“Not me.”
“Why not?”
Druig sighed, the boy was as stubborn as he was. They’d met a couple months prior, when Druig had guided Pierre’s father to his death. Thankfully, the plague had spared him and his mother thus far, but Druig wouldn’t take any chances.
For some reason he still couldn’t understand, Druig was protective of this human. In all his lifetimes, the hundreds of years he’d lived, not once had he felt so attached to one. He refused to entertain the idea of Pierre or his mother catching the disease. The thought of having to feel their minds slip to blackness was something he couldn’t fathom.
Ruffling the boy’s hair, Druig motioned down the street, “Home, Pierre.”
“Will you play with me until I get there?”
Druig had never been one for silly games, but he found himself kicking Pierre’s ball to him down the street, failing to resist his wide-eyed plea. He’d been locked up in his house for so long, all of the citizens had, all he wanted was someone to pay attention to him.
“Are you taking care of your mother like I told you to?” He asked, lightly kicking the ball to him.
Pierre caught it with his foot, “Sure am! I help clean up and take care of the meat.”
“How’s the money?”
“Mom doesn’t say much about that.”
Druig eyed the small house a few yards ahead, “Make sure you tell her that if she needs help to come to me.”
“I will.”
They kicked the ball back and forth a couple more times before Druig flicked the boy’s ear, pointing at the house, “Stay inside, Pierre. I’m serious. This disease is not good. If you caught it, who would take care of your mother?”
“You.” He grinned, “She likes you I think.”
In Druig’s fascination with Pierre, he’d found himself outside of their home on many occasions. He didn’t dare come inside, lest the sickness follow on his clothes, but he’d stay and talk in the middle of the street. Pierre’s mother, Katherine, was young and alone, trying to raise a son in a tumultuous time. Druig felt pity for her.
“Likes me?”
“You know, like my dad.”
Druig tipped his head to the side. He’d never thought of Katherine in that way, couldn’t think of her. Her life was fleeting compared to his. Besides, his heart already belonged to another.
“Remember what I said.” Druig called as Pierre ran to the door.
“Yeah yeah, stay inside, take care of Mom. I get it.”
The door closed just as a breeze ruffled Druig’s hair, a small burst sounding in his right ear. Looking to his side, he found Makkari with her arms folded and a smirk on her lips.
“What?”
That boy is exactly like you.
He and Makkari had volunteered to come to this city to try to weed out any Deviants coming to feed on the weakened humans. All of the Eternals had split up for this mission, not having seen each other in months.
They’d steadfastly held the city, Makkari watching perimeter and Druig keeping the panic at bay. He’d become a plague doctor to help him with that, tasked with going door to door when reports of a new victim arose. He would control their minds as they died, letting them cross over in peace rather than fear. It was the only thing he could do for them.
She was pleased by his connection with Pierre and Katherine, finding satisfaction that he, apparently, was learning to love humans more.
Druig rolled his eyes, “Don’t start.”
He loves you. Makkari said, falling into step with him as he made his way back to their temporary home, And you love him.
“I don’t love him.” Druig scoffed, “He interests me.”
Sure.
Despite her razzing, he was grateful for Makkari. She brought him peace, a comforting presence when his work was overwhelming. All it took was one calm touch for him to breathe, a soothing embrace to let him know he was alright. When he felt like he was drowning, Makkari was the one who kept his head above the surface.
She would always be the one who held Druig’s heart.
“How are things looking out there?” He asked as they sat on their respective beds, facing each other.
Makkari shrugged, The Deviants seem to know we’re here. They’re steering clear for now.
“Good.” He said, resting his head back against the wall.
How are you?
“I’m fine.”
Are you really?
He softened at her concern, yearning to pull her to his chest so he could put her fears to rest, “I’m tired, but I’m okay.”
She nodded, satisfied by his answer, You should get some sleep. I’ll make supper.
Instead, Druig helped her, stirring some kind of soup in a pot over the fire. It didn’t look appetizing, but it smelled good, and they had to take what they could get for now. She chatted away to him as best she could, trying to cut vegetables and sign at the same time.
He stood in amusement, keeping up his stirring. Makkari always made him do the simple tasks, his inability to make an edible meal stopping him from doing anything else. It was enjoyable though, spending time with her doing mundane things. It was how they’d gotten as close as they were, learned things about each other that only they knew. It was how he’d found that his heart no longer belonged to himself.
How’s it looking? She asked, peering into the pot and grimacing, Here’s to hoping it tastes better than it looks, huh?
“If you made it, it’ll taste great.” He said.
You only say that because your cooking is infinitely worse.
He felt his lips quirk, “Which is why I put all my trust in you.”
Fool. She grinned.
“For you, maybe.”
Her grin lingered, You’re a shameless flirt, you know that?
“Oh I’m aware.” He let her take the spoon from him, their fingers lingering slightly, “But only for you, beautiful Makkari.”
She held a bowl of soup up to his face, plopping it down into his hands as she looked away. He smiled to himself at the blush dusting her cheeks.
He was exhausted again. She could see it in the way his shoulders sagged, in the dark circles under his eyes, and the paleness of his skin. Every time he went out, it took a toll on him, and she wasn’t sure how much more he could take.
He’d left hours ago, after the cartman came with the report of another on death’s doorstep. She hadn’t missed the way his eyes fell, or how his chest deflated with a troubled sigh.
Makkari sat up in her bed, watching as Druig leaned heavily on the table supporting the wash basin. She swung her legs out of bed, padding quietly to him. He didn’t look up as she put a hand on his shoulder, not missing the way his body vibrated with tremors.
Ever since he started guiding humans to their deaths, Druig had sunken into himself. If it wasn’t for her starting their conversations, she doubted he’d talk at all. He had fits at night, tossing and turning, softly crying out. His appetite had grown nearly non-existent, and she suspected that the only reason he ate was because she forced the food in front of him. It was becoming a dangerous scenario for him, one she didn’t know how much longer she could sit by and watch.
Taking the pitcher of water next to the basin, Makkari gently poured it over his head, watching as he sank down to rest on his forearms. She ran her hands through his hair, making sure the water reached every strand. When he straightened, she took the cloth and ran it over his face, gently wiping away the dirt-streaked sweat. He watched her with empty eyes, allowing her to wash his neck and dip just below the collar of his shirt.
His head tipped forward, dropping down to rest on her shoulder. She softly wrapped her arms around him, standing in silence for as long as he needed her to.
When he straightened, she put the cloth back in the basin and signed, Are you okay?
He only nodded, his eyes trained on something behind her.
You’re not, Druig.
I just need to sleep. He signed. Makkari was used to him signing to her, but when he did in a mood like this, it was because he was just too exhausted to speak.
She let him brush past her, not missing the way he practically fell into his bed. Before his head even hit his pillow, he was asleep. Gently sitting next to him, she brushed the bangs from his eyes. At least for now, he looked peaceful.
“What is the forest like?” Pierre asked, bouncing his ball down the steps and toward Druig.
He caught it, throwing it back, “Its a lot nicer than the city. Smells better too.”
“Then why come live in the city?”
“Because the plague started and I wanted to help.”
Pierre gazed down at the ball in thought, sighing, “Well, I’m glad you did. No one else would come help my dad. They didn’t want to catch the plague. Even the other doctors. I know Mom is thankful for that.”
“Everyone deserves dignity in death.” Druig lamented, throwing a small stone haphazardly in front of him.
He sat cross-legged in the middle of the street while Pierre sat in his home with the front door open, the same herbs stuffed in Druig’s mask hanging over the door frame. The boy was always curious about Druig’s past life, asking as many questions about the outside world as he could think of. Druig was happy to entertain him, especially when Makkari was out on her patrols. It distracted him from his own thoughts.
“What happens if you catch it, Mr. Druig?” Pierre asked with concern, “Would you die?”
He shrugged, “I don’t know. I don’t plan on finding out.”
They sat in silence for a while longer, throwing the ball back and forth. It was so very human, but Druig found himself not minding. Perhaps they weren’t such fickle creatures. Perhaps he could learn to love them as Makkari did. Especially this boy.
He loves you, and you love him. Makkari had said, and he’d brushed it off. But the fact of the matter, was that Druig thought maybe he did. Maybe he really did love this boy and his mother, taking them under his protection and watchful eye. He’d never felt any certain way towards humans, despite hating that they harmed each other. It was easier not to grow attachment to them, especially because he was forbidden from interfering in their wars.
But he found himself resolving to do anything he could to protect Pierre and Katherine.
“Do you think the plague will go away?” Pierre asked after a while, “I hate having to stay inside all the time.”
“Eventually I would think.” Druig said, “You just have to be patient.”
“I’m sick of being patient.” His blue eyes flicked up to Druig’s, “Will you leave when it’s over?”
“Yes.”
“I don’t want you to.”
“I have to.” Druig threw another pebble, “There are other things I’m meant to do in this world.”
“Will you come back to visit me and Mom?”
Druig knew he wouldn’t, but at the boy’s hopeful gaze, he said, “Sure, Pierre.”
“Good. But I have to go,” He said, using the door to pull himself to his feet, “Mom will need help making supper.”
Druig also rose to his feet, waving goodbye to the boy. He paused when Pierre called out to him, turning slightly.
“Be safe!”
Druig nodded, turning away from the boy’s grinning face.
You seem good today. Makkari said, watching Druig stab the few chunks of meat on his plate. His face actually held some color, and his shoulders were a little more straight.
He nodded, “I haven’t been tending to many with the sickness lately. Hopefully this means we’re coming out of it.”
You look better. I was getting worried.
“I’m sorry for worrying you, then.” His eyes were sincere, “And I’m sorry for not being a very good friend lately. I haven’t even asked how you are, like you haven’t been doing anything stressful either.”
She smiled, I’m fine, and I actually mean it. Unlike you.
“I don’t need to burden you with my troubles.” He said around his food.
You’re so frustrating sometimes. She rolled her eyes, You’re not a burden. You never will be. I’d rather you lean on me than shoulder things alone. We’re friends, Druig. I care about you.
He sat in silence, as if contemplating what he was going to say. Popping the last few pieces of meat into his mouth, he said, “I’m always thankful for you, Makkari. You continue to put up with me, even though I’m not exactly pleasant company lately. I’ll try to be a better friend.”
You already are. You’re my best friend. So tell me when you’re hurting next time. She shook her fists to further her point, You’re not alone.
He gave her a small smile, “Thank you, Makkari.”
Druig was stirring a dish, trying his best to make something Makkari would enjoy and be proud of him for. She was out on her patrols, and he knew she would be hungry when she returned home. After everything she’d said the other night, he wanted to return her kindness. He wanted to be the better friend he said he’d be.
He was debating how much seasoning he was supposed to use, when a frantic knock came at his door. Dread seized him when he opened it to find Katherine, a feeling so sharp and raw that it nearly made him fall to his knees.
“Pierre is sick.” She gasped, out of breath from running. Her blue eyes were red with held-back tears, blonde hair falling out of her bun in her haste to get to him.
He was pulling on his robes and grabbing his mask in a matter of moments, rushing out the door behind her without a second thought, his meal bubbling forgotten over the fire.
Pierre was lying in his bed, shivering despite the sweat drenching him. Just as Katherine had said, growths were rising up on his neck. Dread set deep in his stomach, and the most powerful wave of sorrow he’d ever felt came crashing down on top of him.
He shook his head, squeezing his eyes open and shut. His chest constricted, he couldn’t breathe. He was an Eternal. He wasn’t supposed to get attached. He wasn’t supposed to. He wasn’t supposed to. He wasn’t supposed to!
But he did. He grew attached. He felt love. And now it was all for nothing.
“You can do something, right?” Katherine asked, panic edging her voice, “Druig, please, you can heal him, can’t you?”
At the sound of his mother’s voice, Pierre opened his eyes and tried to smile when he saw Druig, “I hoped you’d come.”
“I told you.” Druig said, his voice cracking, “I told you to stay inside.”
“I know. I didn’t listen.” Pierre rasped, “Am I going to die, Mr. Druig?”
That question. That damned question.
“No.” Druig lied. It was the first time, but his heart couldn’t take saying the truth out loud, “No, you’re going to be fine, Pierre.”
“Promise?”
Druig took the boy’s hand, not even having to enter his mind to feel that he was slipping away. Holding it in both hands, Druig squeezed it between them, and felt Pierre’s fear wash over him.
“Promise.” He whispered, conjuring the same calm and relaxation as he had so many times before. This time, though, he let Pierre see something he’d never created.
From his memory, Druig called upon the image of Pierre’s father, waiting for him on that rocky shoreline. He could feel Pierre’s surprise, and then his unfiltered happiness as he saw him. His father called out to him, and Pierre ran into his waiting arms, both of them laughing in joy as Pierre finally got to see the forest he so longed for.
When Druig opened his eyes, Pierre was gone. Just like that, the boy he’d held so dear, the tiny life that hadn’t even started to begin, was ended. Of all the deaths he’d witnessed, all the lives he felt fade away, this was by far the heaviest.
Katherine still hadn’t realized Pierre was dead, and Druig didn’t plan for her to. Scooping the boy into his arms, Druig turned and slipped into her mind before she could register what had happened.
He took away the memory of Pierre, erasing his existence from her mind. It would break her if she lost her son, so much so that he was afraid she’d take her own life. He wanted her to live. He couldn’t stand to let any more of this family die.
Druig left her standing in the kitchen, blinking as she tried to remember what she had been doing. As for Pierre’s belongings, he would let her come to her own conclusions.
He handed Pierre’s body to the cartman, standing in the rain long after the cart turned the corner. This way, he could say it was rain that streaked down his face.
Makkari stood in a small clearing, just about to wrap up her patrols for the day, when she felt it. A deep, rumbling disturbance from the city. She stood for only a moment longer, before taking off toward her home.
This disturbance belonged to Druig, she could easily distinguish him above all others, and right now he was in agony. She couldn’t remember a time she’d raced so fast, pushing herself to her limits and beyond.
Coming to a stop in front of the house, she hurried inside and froze in the doorway. Everything was in shambles unless it belonged to her. Papers were strewn about, boxes splintered, and Druig’s bed laid across the room. A deep crack ran up the wall next to it, dust still settling to the floor.
Beyond the doorway to the patio, she saw Druig’s hand limply hanging from the armrest of a chair. A slow red drip cascaded from his fingertips to the floor below it.
Makkari was always careful not to run indoors. She knew her speed created sonic blasts, and she never wanted to damage anything, but she was next to him before she could even think. Fear grasped her chest, seizing her breath.
Druig was sitting in a wooden chair with his feet kicked up on a table, his eyes staring straight ahead at nothing. His arm was bleeding profusely from a deep gash in his forearm, the blood running steadily down his hand and onto the ground. It bled through the cracks in the bricks, following the path of the grout.
When she came to a stop next to him, she knelt down to shake his thigh. His eyes slowly tracked down to meet hers, and she relaxed ever so slightly. He was still with her.
What happened?
“Pierre’s dead.” He said simply, voice monotone, “I took away Katherine’s memory of him.”
Makkari could only stare at him, her heart shattering as his already had. He looked away from her, his eyes falling back to stare at nothing. He was drenched from the falling rain, droplets still dripping from his curled bangs.
Please come inside. She said, motioning to the patio doors.
“I made it a mess. I’m sorry.”
A mess can be cleaned. Makkari pulled on his uninjured arm, Please Druig. We need to clean your wound.
He looked at her again, still in a daze, and then down at his arm. He hummed in acknowledgement, “I accidentally cut myself in the mess. I don’t feel it, though.”
His voice was so calm, as if he were talking about the weather. She could feel it though, the underlying grief.
Druig allowed her to pull him to his feet, following her inside the destroyed home. She sat him on the edge of her bed, motioning for him to stay put. He did as he was told, staring straight ahead to the crack that spanned both walls and ceiling.
She grabbed the wash basin and medicine Phastos had sent them with, pulling up a chair in front of him. He watched her silently as she disinfected the wound, not even wincing as she applied the stinging remedy. When it was neatly wrapped in cloth bandages, she sat back and eyed him with worry.
You did that? She asked, pointing to the crack in the wall.
“I didn’t mean to.” He said, “I just lost control. I tried not to break any of your things, but I can’t say for sure that I avoided everything. I’m sorry.”
We’re going to find the others. She said in finality, deciding that he’d had enough. His mind had been used too much, he’d been used too much, and it was time for him to rest. You can’t keep going like this.
This made Druig shake his head, “I’m not done. These people are still dying.”
And so are you! She signed angrily, You’re using too much of yourself!
“Not enough.” He said. “Not yet.”
Makkari shook her head, her brows pulling together as she frowned, It is enough. I’m saying it’s enough. You’re done, Druig. It’s our job to help the humans, it’s not our job to die for them.
“I’m not dying.”
Yes you are! She felt tears pricking her eyes. Never had she longed for a voice so much in her life, to plead with him, to make him understand that he was losing himself. I’ve watched the life slowly drain out of you day by day! You’re not yourself. You’re not happy.
“I just need rest.” Druig nodded, as if to convince himself, “I just need rest, Makkari.”
You need to be done. She fell from the chair onto her knees in front of him, pleading with her gaze, Please, Druig. I can’t watch you do this to yourself anymore.
He closed his eyes, slumping forward. She caught him under his arms, his own wrapping around her neck. His body shook as a sob tore from his chest, and she felt her eyes widen. Never in all the lifetimes she shared with him, had she ever felt something so raw come from him.
His hands bunched in her shirt, his forehead resting against her shoulder, as he cried. They were deep, wrenching sobs, his whole body trembling. Makkari wondered just how long he’d been avoiding them, how long these sobs had been trapped inside of him.
“You don’t know what it’s like,” He said, causing her to tip her head against his, “being inside someone’s head when they die. Feeling their life slip away. I can’t - it’s indescribable.”
She answered him by tightening her hold around him. They fell into a silence then, the only sounds being those of his sobs.
“He was ten.” He finally whispered, voice breaking, “He was ten.”
Makkari had known it was Pierre’s death that finally broke him as soon as he’d said it. All of them, all of the human’s he’d felt die, had been weighing and weighing him down, but it was the boy he’d grown fond of that finally did him in.
“I couldn’t do anything. I can’t.” Druig said, “All these years of standing by and knowing I could have stopped things, they’re killing me, but not being able to do anything for once…”
He trailed off, and she pulled back to look up into his reddened eyes. Tears stained his cheeks, his face swollen.
You’ve helped these people more than any of us could have. She said gently, You’ve done so much for them. It’s time to do something for yourself. Please, Druig. It’s time for us to go back.
He nodded, more tears spilling from his eyes, “Okay. Okay, Makkari.”
Druig slept next to her that night, exhaustion finally winning against him and pulling him into its clutches. She kept a watchful eye on him, putting a gentle hand on his brow when he started to grow restless. He would relax then, whatever things wishing to haunt him, floating back into the recesses of his mind.
They left the next day, returning back to the Domo. Thena and Gilgamesh were already there, the others still out and about. Druig had gone to his rooms almost immediately upon arrival, leaving Makkari to tell them about everything that had happened.
She’d tried to visit him on several occasions, but Druig had locked himself away. He was shut in for days, worrying Makkari, but Thena assured her he would be fine.
“Death has its way of eating at people.” The warrior said, “But Druig is strong. He won’t let himself succumb to his mind.”
Thena’s words helped reassure Makkari, but she still felt lost not being able to help him. The only reason she didn’t break his door down, was because she could still feel his life force inside.
Finally, after several days, Druig emerged from his room. The drastic change in his demeanor was surprising to her. He seemed to be back to his old ways, bantering with Gilgamesh and trying to out-drink him. He even volunteered to spar with Thena, much to Gil’s amusement. His flirtatiousness returned, and he took every opportunity to fluster Makkari.
But no matter how much he acted like his old self, she could still see the deep lines of sorrow at the corners of his eyes. They wouldn’t go away for years, but eventually his act turned genuine. Eventually, he returned to the old Druig again.
But Makkari would never forget how she almost lost him, and she knew he would never forget the little human boy that brought him just a little bit of happiness.