Crimson Rivers

Chapter 22

James wakes up.

For the first time in his life, he experiences what it's like to wish he hadn't.

There was a time when James understood that feeling from an outsider's perspective only, and it had made him ache then, seeing Sirius wake up and face instant regret that he had to. Sometimes, Sirius would cry himself awake, and just cry, and keep crying, and there was nothing James could do but sit with him and wait for the tears to pass. Hold him. Rub his back. Murmur soft words of encouragement and reassurance that James is quite sure Sirius never actually heard anyway. But he still said them. He always said them.

Maybe it's selfish and irrational, but James is angry, because Sirius isn't here to do that for him. Right now, at this moment, the only person James wants is his best friend, no one else.

It's infuriating that Sirius isn't close by when James needs him, because James is always, always there when Sirius needs him. He knows, logically, that this isn't Sirius' fault, and yet he's still upset with him anyway. James wants to yell at him, and shove him, and yank on him until they collapse together so that James can curl up against him and weep. James misses him so much that it feels like being ripped in half.

James has never known waking up to be a painful process, and now he doesn't think he'll ever forget. He can't even imagine a time when it won't hurt anymore. If one suffers consistently enough, that's all they know.

Happiness only leaves behind memories, and those can fade away; pain leaves behind scars, and those never really do.

It doesn't help that he's waking up in physical pain as well. His leg fucking hurts. It's the first physical thing he becomes aware of, the fire and ache throbbing in his thigh. Looking down at where he's wrapped it with a torn-off portion of his shirt, he can see it brown, black, and red with dirt and blood.

James averts his gaze, because he doesn't even want to look at it. He knows it's bad. Really fucking bad, in fact. He also knows it's a bigger problem than he's equipped to deal with.

People know their bodies, and they know when something is wrong. James? Well, he can tell that this injury is bad. Not only does it hurt, but it's affecting him in other ways besides the site of the wound. He's running hot, and he feels tired, and his head is fucking pounding something awful. The cold night alone with no fire or blanket surely didn't help, and now he's still trembling and sweating at the same time, which is a very bad sign. He knows that. He knows something is wrong.

The thing is, he doesn't really...care.

That's the thing about waking up and wishing you hadn't; you don't really care about the possibility that you might fall asleep and never wake up again. James almost welcomes the thought, and when it was Sirius dealing with that, nothing terrified him more. When it's him, it hardly seems to matter.

Waking up comes with remembrance. Despite the nightmares that plagued him through the night, giving him no reprieve even in sleep, being awake is somehow worse. All of the events from the previous day seem more real when he's awake.

Hodge.

Vanity.

Irene.

Mathias.

The weight of loss is nearly unbearable. It hurts more than his leg. It hurts more than the loneliness. It hurts more than anything he's ever felt in his life.

There's so much guilt, so much anger, and he doesn't know what to do with it all. He can't rewind time and go back to stop it all from happening; he can't save them, any of them. What was the point of it all? They went to that cave, and for what? James made Vanity upset with him, and why? Regulus promised Vanity a blanket to survive the night, and she didn't even live to use it. So, what was the point?