Chapter Text
-"" The sun is a daily reminder that we too can rise again from the darkness, that we too can shine our own light."" ~ S. Ajna.
It’s dark when Regulus opens his eyes.
Only for a moment. And then there's red. Regulus has never been much of a fan of red.
That’s odd. He thinks mildly. Not really pausing on the thought for too long. Just long enough to recognise that when you open your eyes, it shouldn’t be dark. That’s supposed to be when the light streams in and hurts your irises. But this abnormal light only burns maroon through his skin – his eyelids are actually closed, he realises – and somewhere distant, there’s a voice.
Vaguely familiar and distraught. Someone is pleading.
In hindsight, Regulus suspects it was probably himself.
★★★
This time around, there’s no mistaking the flood of the overhead lights piercing through Regulus’s vision as he comes to. Groggily wiping a hand down his face, then ripping it back as if his skin is a live wire, a shock jolting through his aching body at the touch. A sickly sterile smell wafts over to him, and his stomach clenches with something that surely can’t be vomit, as he can’t even remember the last time he had something substantial to eat. Then his eyes drift to the machines by his bed, pumping liquids through plastic tubes and into his arms.
The moment the heartrate monitor quickens a little in its rhythmic beeping, a head snaps up beside him. Alphard. Hunched over in a chair, his face haggard and gaunt.
“Regulus,” he breathes, jumping to his feet. In an instant, he’s there, carefully placing a hand beneath his nephew’s pounding head as he tries to sit up. His face takes on a pained quality, even though it’s Regulus currently gritting his teeth as a deep ache tenses his brittle bones.
“Easy now, son,” Alphard mutters. “Don’t wanna rip your stitches.”
This makes him falter. Now identifying the reason to the sharp stinging across his face, the theoretical jackhammer drilling into his skull. It all comes back to him in a blurry haze as Alphard gets him settled, sitting up now. Slowly – much slower than usual, presumably thanks to the drugs – he tries and fails to piece together what the hell is going on. How he got here, which he now notices is a hospital ward. Why his collarbone feels as if it’s ready to tear out of his chest, and his ribs feel as if they’ve been snapped and broken ten times over. Why it’s Alphard stood over him with an anxious expression and not--
“Sirius.” His voice is hoarse, and it hurts to speak. But it doesn’t hurt as much as watching his uncle’s face shutter at the name. “Where is Sirius?”
Alphard takes a deep breath. “Regulus, you’ve been through a lot--”
“What?” Regulus chokes out, mind spinning frantically. He splutters in his haste to get his words out, the skin around his throat tightening. He briefly prays it’s due to some kind of injury rather than the treat of something infinitely scarier – tears. But then he reminds himself that praying is pointless, as no God exists because if a God did exist his brother would be here right now and Alphard wouldn't look so broken. “What--what are you talking about?”
The monitor's sounds grow faster. Just like Regulus’s desperate attempts to get his breath back as it’s repeatedly snatched from his lungs.
Alphard looks to him with something akin to pity. Regulus has never been one to accept sympathy; it doesn’t sit right in his skin.
“The accident, Regulus,” he says softly. “You were in a terrible accident. You both were.”
The ground is falling from under him. He’s hurtling towards an unthinkable fate. Falling, falling, falling.
It’s work to suppress the small amount of bile turning in Regulus’s stomach. An even greater effort to form the one simple word resting on his tongue.
“Both?”
He doesn’t miss the way Alphard’s grey eyes start to shine. Regulus could’ve sworn they were silver. Shining and glinting and full of life. Now they just appear dull. Like the colour of a plain pavement after rainfall.
“Both,” he confirms thickly. “You and your brother.”
Falling
falling
falling.
“Where is he?”
“Regulus--”
“Take me to him. Now.” He must be in so much pain. Regulus needs to be there so he can make it stop.
“Regulus, please just listen--”
“Where is he?!” Regulus exclaims. He’s not even aware he’s crying until a tear slips from his cheek and onto the covers. And then it turns into a sob, an ugly sound that comes straight from his gut. Choking over his words while his mind decides which takes precedent – demanding the whereabouts of his brother, or breathing.
“Regulus, I’m so sorry,” Alphard says wetly, wrapping an arm around his shoulders as his nephew cries into his chest.
“Why?” Regulus asks, though he fears the answer.
It’s a while before Alphard speaks again. The only noise filling the silence being the beeps of the machines and Regulus’s stuttering sobs.
“He’s gone,” Alphard whispers eventually.
The ground is ripped from him.
And he’s falling
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