Alan’s look of panic was directed at Apollo, because right now they were not enemies - they were two men worried for the life of the same woman that they loved. Everything else was unimportant.
He looked at the god and asked, “what do you need me to do?” And then, because it wasn’t really his call completely, he reached out for Melpomene’s hand. “Melpomene?”
Melpomene’s fingers grabbed onto his, and her eyes met his, and of all the words in the world she could only find two. “Help me,” she begged, and then Apollo closed the blanket around her and lifted her off the bed.
“Open doors,” she heard Apollo say to him, but she was trying to twist her head back around so she could see where she’d been sitting on the bed, imagining a dark, wide bloodstain, but there was nothing there.