He woke up gradually, not remembering much of anything at all. Things drifted back to him only to drift away again just as quickly. He ached like he'd been fighting, that much he could understand-- the heavy arms, the pull across his shoulders. The sting of a single tiny srape. It was-- not strange, no, it was familiar, but it was almost--
There should have been more, he thought suddenly. And just like that, he could remember the blinding pain shooting up his arm, like the skin was on fire, like it was settling in to the bones of his shoulder and smoldering there, covering his vision with a red haze.
He remembered fighting, though the memories felt strangely muffled. He remembered blood.
Breath frozen in his chest, he forced his eyes open, forced his head to turn, and saw Luke lying pale and motionless in the next bed over.
No, oh no--
Someone had wrapped blankets around him, despite the warmth of the air-- humid, some part of his mind noted, salty, and he knew they'd made it to Grand Chokmah after all. It barely seemed important as he struggled to pull himself free of the constraining sheet, only vaguely aware of the sudden motion of other people near the door, of the hushed sound of voices talking.
His feet hit the floor and he would have fallen but for the hand that appeared under his elbow, bracing him up until his knees steadied. He didn't notice who it was, though, as his attention stayed firmly fixed on a single point, on that splash of red hair on the pillow. He reached out when he was close enough, and let his hand hover over the white of bandages, not quite daring to touch. Tried desperately to remember just how hard he might have struck but only remembered red, red, red--
Someone was calling his name, he realized. He turned his head to see Ion looking at him in obvious concern. Ion was the one bracing him upright, with a steady strength that wasn't obvious from that tiny frame.
"Sit down, Guy, please," Ion was saying. "I only just finished removing the curse slot, you need to rest--"
"Curse slot," he repeated, fixing on the words. His voice sounded strange to his ears, hoarse and distant. The backs of his knees hit the edge of something, a chair, and he sat down hard.
"Sync," Ion said, and that was almost enough of an explanation by itself. "He must have marked you in Chesedonia, and used it to--" He hesitated, meeting Guy's eyes a little uncertainly. "It brings out deeply buried emotions, takes away inhibitions. You must have been very angry," he finished carefully, and Guy closed his eyes, wincing.
"That was a long time ago," he whispered.
Ion looked at him for a long time, but eventually nodded, expression clearing. "He'll be all right," he said gently. "Luke will heal, he's quite weak but he'll heal, he just needs time. You, too-- try to rest, all right?"
He gave Guy one last, encouraging smile, and then went back to the door where the others were waiting, looking about as pale and shocked and confused as Guy would have expected. Not wanting to meet any of their eyes, Guy turned back to the bed and noticed, distantly, that he was shaking. He laid his head down on the bed, not really hearing the words that were said at the door, not really noticing, either, when it was closed to leave him in silence.
"I'm sorry," he whispered into the sheets. "I'm so sorry, I don't-- I don't feel that way anymore. I may have once, but it was a long time ago, and I was just so angry then that-- you've got to believe me, Luke, please. Please be all right."
He lifted his head, staring down at that too-pale face and willing the eyes to open. "I was just starting to think you'd win that bet, you know," he went on after a moment. "Starting to-- to hope you would, maybe. I think-- I think I need you to, or else it's all been for nothing."
Guy let out a shaky breath and let his head fall again, forehead to the sheet and cheek touching Luke's hand. Listening hard to the sound of Luke's breathing, he settled in to wait.