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Afterward, Rodion and Heathcliff watch over him. Gregor's asleep now, but still breathing. Alive. Rodion's never felt more relieved. She can't stop checking for his pulse. Next to her, Heathcliff dabs away his sweat, soft and sweet and so very gentle.
They tend to his wounds, wiping away blood and chitin. Gregor doesn't stir, but his face tenses. Asleep like this, and without his glasses, he looks--young. Too young. He isn't that much older than her, she suddenly realizes.
Something about that makes her heart and head hurt. She remembers: the buzzing of wings, the many appendages. Mandibles, sharp and hungry, reaching out to everything they can reach.
But his eye had met hers. That lone amber eye, that she knows so well, can recognize anywhere. From laughs, from deaths, from when she had teased and prodded and he'd heaved a good sigh back. It had sought for her and looked at her.
Begging for her to kill him.
She's the first to speak: "Hey, Heath? Did ya ever think something like this would happen?"
Heathcliff doesn't look away, but he clenches his jaw tight. "What, Stubbles transforming? No, 'course not. He was always the old man to me, y'know?"
Rodion lets a small smile show. He'd stopped calling him Buggy Bloke after that night in District 8. Now he was Stubbles, just like he was Greg. Her Greg.
All these little nicknames, she thinks. Suddenly, she wants Gregor to hear them again.
"...And now?"
Heathcliff's hands close into fists. He looks tired. He looks like he wants to tear away Gregor's pain with his own hands. "Still is, of 'course. Just like the blonde lass is still our knight chasing after her dreams. Nothing has changed." His jaw is set, as if daring her to challenge him.
But Rodion knows, too. She shakes her head; defiant as him. Not pest. Not vermin. Not The Roach Emperor Valencina had crowed about. Nothing what G Corp forced him to be. That's not their Gregor, not when they know him better than anyone else. Their Gregor is cranky. Always complaining about his back. Their Gregor makes jokes that has everyone cringing slightly. Their Gregor is bitter and lonely and kind.
And their Gregor is human. So, so human.
"He's not a monster," Heathcliff says. "And if anybody dares says differently--"
"We'll beat 'em up, right?" Rodion can't help but finish for him.
Heathcliff grins back. "Glad ya already know it, lass."
They hold Gregor's hand when he stirs, when he trembles. They hold his hand when he starts shivering like he can't stop. When he begs in his sleep, stop, Mother, please, kill me.
They won't let go, not even when he wakes up. They'll continue holding his hand, without fear and only tenderness.