Chapter Text
Ronan couldn’t watch his own death; the way he squirmed, the agony and disgrace of it all. He wanted to pretend that he didn’t really care, but when he moved out of sight of his dream double, he knew what he really was feeling was cowardice. By the way the sun shone into the church Ronan knew he must have been dreaming a long time, but Adam still wasn't moving, just staring unblinking into that flame. Damn! He thought. Good thing I didn’t need any help or anything! Ronan curled into one of the furthermost pews on the other side of the balcony, as far away as he could get from the nearly departing. It still wasn’t far enough. Ronan couldn’t shut out the pitiful sounds it made, he made...the gasping, the cries in his own voice. He shook his head, but the sounds buried themselves in his mind anyway. He knew he would hear them again later. He had to stay cool. At least from this spot he could keep an eye on Adam in case he needed help. Ronan laid down low enough in the pew so he could still see the top of Adam's head, and none of his dream double. A moment later a loud cry came from the back of the church. Shivers ran over Ronan’s body like dread. It was a long death. Adam stirred.
When Adam heard the call coming from somewhere behind him in the church, he knew he had to pull himself back. He had been scrying, staring into the flame of a candle under a statue of the Virgin Mary, but wasn’t exactly sure how long he’d been standing there. He knew he had to get back to himself and out of Cabeswater. Slowly he started to feel his body again, his toes, his stinging eyes; and then all at once he heard Ronan's choking strangled moans. They pierced him like an ice pick. When he last left Ronan he was laying peacefully on the church pew, ready and willing to create dream things - ready to frame Greenmantle for a murder he didn't commit (though they were sure he was responsible for many). Ronan didn’t look anything like that now. His body was contorted, bloody, a twisted mess of ragged skin and broken bone. Ronan squirmed on the floor, unable to make his body move right, he raked at his own throat. Ronan whimpered and writhed. It was a terrible thing. “Oh God!” Adam cried. “Oh God! Ronan NO!” He ran to him.