Re: [Green Light: Janus/Atticus]
Was a terrible sight.
Had seen so many dead. Had seen crawling babies. Had seen grandfathers. Had seen everything in-between, and had seen every method of death he could imagine. Had seen some dead that were so badly damaged he couldn't even tell what had done them in.
All that, and this sight was still terrible.
Still, knelt there. Was responsible for this. Didn't feel guilt, precisely. Was a risk. One that they both understood. Was only pissed off that this had been for nothing. Didn't know anything he hadn't known when this began. Somehow, hadn't been expecting that outcome. Wasn't sure what he had expected. Surely hadn't expected to have all his questions answered, but hadn't expected nothing. Right now, they had nothing. Nothing, and Janus was lying there, ribs falling off and ashing, eyes black and eyelid-less holes. Thought he could smell charred flesh. Might had just been imagining that, filling in gaps with scents from other dead men.
Was still terrible.
Was thinking about that; missed when Janus changed. One second, there was the skeleton. Now, the boy. Somehow, this version of the boy was worse than the bones. Bleeding. Thin hand. Thin arms. Thin. Made Atticus think of his students. Voice was wrong. Older.But still made him think of them going off to war. His students. Shook his head. Groaned, and then he was in the middle of the bus stop, stomach turning over. Hands on his thighs. Bent over. Trying not to hurl on the familiar, bus stop floor. "Going to be OK?" he asked, between dry heaves.