#neurological disorder

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Tagging@ouatwinterwhump,@killian-whump,@sancocnutclub,@killianjonesownsmyheart1,@courtorderedcake,@facesiousbutton82<3

***THE MOST WONDERFUL, HEARTBREAKING, and BEAUTIFULLY WHUMPY COVER ART BY @cocohook38HEREandHERE!!!!!!!!!*************

***Chapter 12 animationandart that will absolutely astound you!!!!!!!!!**********

***LETHALChapter 19 art in all of its BLOODSTAINED GLORY!!!!************

**POOR STABBED KILLIAN falling into the sheriff station! Ch. 7 & 23 art!!**

****KILLIAN AND HIS MASTER IN THE GORGEOUS CATHEDRAL!!!!!!!!!!!!    CHAPTER 1 ART THAT KILLS ME EVERY TIME I SEE IT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!*********

*CH 34 ART! A DEFEATED KILLIAN, HEAD BOWED BEFORE HIS MASTER!!*

***CH 36 ART! DETECTIVE JONES BOWS BEFORE HIS NEW MASTER!!!!!!***

***AAAAHHHH!!! THANK YOU MY WONDERFUL COCONUT FRIEND!!!!!!***

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Present (Tuesday)…

Detective Jones’ first impression, as Regina pushed his wheelchair into Killian’s room, was that his twin looked markedly worse than when he’d last seen him. Not that he’d expected a miraculous recovery–magic was still being suppressed somehow, so any healing would have to be done in a conventional manner–but Jones would have thought that a few days of intensive medical care might afford him some measure of regained strength. Instead, he appeared even more gaunt then before, and very little color could be seen on his skin, apart from the purplish black where bruising still had a gruesome foothold. His eyes were closed, lids brushed with dusky shadows, and he wore a barely discernible frown, as if suffering from pain even in sleep. Emma was at his bedside, of course, resting one hand over his bandaged arm where it lay atop his blanket. Henry was there too, sitting in a chair in an out-of-the-way corner of the room. He was the first to notice the new arrivals, and he greeted them with a wan smile.

Jones had a fairly good poker face and thus could be confident his shock would not be apparent to Emma. Which, upon reflection, served little purpose anyway; she knew how bad her husband looked, no doubt about that. Jones nodded a somber hello as Regina rolled him to a stop near the foot of the bed.

“Hey. You outta here?” murmured Emma, setting her phone on the table so she could have both hands free.

“At last,” he replied, matching her volume. “Just thought we’d stop by first and see how things are coming along.”

Emma looked slightly evasive as she said,

“Improving, slowly… his visit with Hope seems to have really made a difference.”

“I imagine so,” Jones said with a grin. He saw the framed artwork on the table and thought fondly of similar creations by his own daughter. If that didn’t help Killian to feel better, then nothing would.

Emma ran a finger gently along Killian’s cheek. “Hey. Want to say hello to Killian and Regina?”

“It’s okay,” Jones assured her quickly, “you can let him sleep.” But Emma persisted with her caresses.

“No, I think he’ll want to see you.”

Slowly and with obvious reluctance, Killian opened his eyes, struggling to focus; first on the frame at his bedside, then on his wife. Finally, he looked in Jones’ direction. An unnerving, dull sort of vacancy colored his stare, which Jones uneasily attributed to whatever strong pain medications were keeping him somewhat comfortable.

“Ahoy, mate. You’re looking significantly more chipper then the last time I saw you,” Jones lied. “Guess that git Whale has his uses, after all.”

Killian might have been trying to smile; Jones couldn’t be sure. His lips were quivering, their movements jerky and barely controlled, mirroring other small but noticeable tremors disturbing his person.

“I’m glad you came,” said Killian in a voice tremulous and feeble enough to be a perfect match for his outward appearance. He took a moment to catch his breath and then added, “I wanted to thank you for coming after me.”

He did not elaborate, but Jones knew the words were heartfelt.

“I only did what I felt I must,” responded the detective humbly. “Just as you did.”

The following moment of awkward silence was eventually broken by Emma.

“How’s the shoulder?”

“On the mend. I’ve been assured I’ll make a full recovery.”

“And… your heart?”

Jones glanced in Regina’s direction; had she explained her theory to Emma? “Back to normal. Alice and the second Jolly Roger cruise are scheduled to return to port this afternoon; with any luck, I’ll be capable of meeting her there.”

“You’ll be able to meet her there and give her a one-armed hug hello,” Regina told him impatiently.

“So you really think the monster absorbed the curse, and that’s what weakened it enough for Mom to blow its brains out?” Henry asked of Regina, confirming that she’d at least shared the idea with those currently in attendance.

“Yes, I do. I wouldn’t have said it if I didn’t.”

“Even with the shield against magic, though?”

That was a valid point, though Jones was certain he’d felt the same symptoms as the too-familiar curse, and Emma had mentioned seeing the telltale green light. He’d been too preoccupied to notice that detail himself.

“There had to have been some magic allowed,” reasoned Emma. “Unless you’re telling me the Vocivore could convert…” She paused abruptly as if realizing at the last second what she had been about to say so casually in Killian’s presence. “Well…” she stammered, “get its energy the way it did and… have the control it did… all with purely natural processes.”

Killian was staring resolutely at Hope’s artwork as if it were a lifeline cast into a roiling sea. In apology, Emma began running her fingers through his scalp, gently massaging the tension away.

“It very well could have been,” shrugged Regina. “We might know more once the necropsy is completed. The other possibility is that the shield isn’t 100% effective, or allows certain types of magic through, or something. The bottom line is, yes, I believe that’s what happened, and yes, I think the poison is gone for good now.”

Jones felt a stab of uneasiness as he pictured the unlikely chance that Regina was mistaken. Alice would appear on the gangplank, all smiles at the news of the monster’s defeat, but before she could take a second step toward him, a wrenching pain in his chest would throw him backwards, out of her reach, forever…

“It was all for nothing, then,” came Killian’s halting voice, breaking into the terrifying daydream, and it took Jones a moment to connect back to the previous conversation.

Emma’s “Oh, Killian…” mingled with Regina’s, “What was?” and Jones’ double winced as he clarified,

“All we needed was for Jones to get close, and we could have slaughtered that demon months ago.”

On the one hand, it was heartening to hear Killian following the train of thought with such lucidity. But the audible bitterness in the words tempered any possible lifting of spirits.

“We… we couldn’t have known that,” murmured Emma as she stroked him for all she was worth, desperate to soothe. “Of all the ideas, the infinite number of things we could have thrown at it, how could we have expected that to be the one thing, even if we had known about the residual poison…”

Killian did not appear mollified in the slightest, and Jones could easily sympathize. It wasn’t that Killian would begrudge anyone their collateral freedom or safety after his hard-won victory, or even expect gratitude for his sacrifice. But to think that there had been an easier way would have made anyone a little bit resentful that they’d been subjected to such torture for no reason. There were limits to what a person would willingly suffer, after all, even in the name of love…

Jones was voicing his objection even before it had taken solid form in his mind. “Actually, mate, I’m not so sure about that.”

All eyes were upon him now. He offered an apologetic smile before continuing.

“That curse… it didn’t work on just anyone. Or I would have been cut off from any human contact for the span of decades. But that isn’t the way it happened.” He drew a breath, considering. It wouldn’t be a comfortable truth, what he was about to share, and there was no guarantee it would help Killian feel any better about the whole thing. But it would justify the struggle, and as far as Jones knew, it was accurate.

“The poison was enacted to separate me from the one I loved. It only affected me in proximity to Alice. And from the admittedly brief impression I got of the monster… there wasn’t a lot that it truly loved.”

Killian looked away as the words sank in, a flash of nauseated loathing crossing his face, followed by humiliated shame. Emma swore under her breath and rubbed one hand across her eyes. But Regina appeared taken by the idea.

“Huh. And Killian’s immunity, granted by way of being a former Dark One, meant that he was in the Master’s presence for far longer than the rest, making it possible for it to grow fonder of him than usual. It makes sense.”

Though she seemed reluctant to cause her husband further distress, Emma added her own evidence in a low, almost angry tone. “Those last few minutes… It did seem to get weaker the closer it got to… to Killian.”

“So really,” concluded Regina, “everything had to happen the way that it did. We’ve learned that it did not care for female voices, so that rules out Emma as a possibility. You were the only one who could have done this. Or, at least, the only one who would have been successful. Sounds like a one-in-a-million chance, everything lined up the way it needed to: your resistance, the way you were able to hide your true purpose from the monster, even the length of time you spent there. A week earlier, and maybe the Vocivore would not have had the time to develop a strong enough bond to be affected by the curse. We got lucky.”

Silence reigned in the room for several long moments as everyone thought of countless ways the scenario could have fallen apart and led to a more dire outcome. Killian lay with his eyes closed, but Jones knew he was not asleep. His forehead creased in an uncomfortable scowl, and every so often, his jaw muscles would jump as he clenched his teeth. Emma continued to play with his hair, probably hoping that the gesture would keep him grounded in reality.

Rapid footsteps sounded in the hallway, bringing with them a sense of purpose as they drew closer. Then Dr. Whale rounded the corner, wearing a grim expression. He hesitated for an instant when he noticed the somber crowd in the room, then focused on Jones, of all people.

“Detective, good; I’m glad I caught you. Care to join me out in the hall for a minute?”

Somewhat nonplussed, Jones glanced at Regina, then said,

“Aye, of course.” He turned his attention back to Killian, who was listlessly watching the exchange. “Take care.” He smirked as he added, “Don’t let this bully drive you too hard.”

Killian answered with a weary nod of acknowledgement but did not seem to derive much humor from the jibe. Regina once again took over escort duty, and Henry got up to exit with them both.

“I’ll be back to see you again soon,” promised Henry.

Just before following the rest out the door, Whale held up an admonishing finger toward his patient.

“Stay put, Hook,” he commanded, as if Killian could do anything else. “I’ll be right back in to take a look at you.”

Regina paused outside of the exit but Whale gestured toward a window further down the hall.

“Over there.”

When they reached the desired rendezvous, Whale positioned himself in front of Jones so that he could look him squarely in the face. Without any need to be prompted, the physician made a blunt statement.

“Hook isn’t doing well; I’m sure I don’t really need to tell you that.”

Jones couldn’t see Regina’s face, but Henry was in view, and his closed off expression mirrored the wary anticipation with which Jones awaited further explanation.

“We performed another MRI this morning, and the neural deterioration is continuing at an alarming rate despite his being away from whatever caused it in the first place. I’ve got people searching the compound for clues, and we’re awaiting any information the dissection of the monster might provide, but if something doesn’t change soon, I wouldn’t expect him to last another week.”

Their little corner of the hospital seemed to go deathly silent for a moment, as if even the plumbing within the walls had paused out of respect. Jones’ heart went out to Emma, keeping vigil over her weakening husband and unable to provide much more in the way of assistance. To lose him now, after what they’d both been through…

“Bloody hell.”

“What about the treatments you were working on with the other slaves?” Henry sounded slightly panicked, and rightfully so.

“And I thought he had better protection then the others,” added Regina, icy cold in her own way of dealing with emotion.

“What was a benefit to him before is now a definite disadvantage. For whatever reason, the protection also is making him more resistant to all attempts to slow the progression. Like some extra blood-brain barrier or something, but nothing that we can obviously see from his scans. That’s where you come in, Detective.”

Whale’s eyes bored into Jones’ as the physician attempted to drill into him the seriousness of his next words. “Emma has already agreed to allow us to study her, the only other example of a former Dark One that we have easy access to. But we’d like to run a few tests on you, too, as a sort of control subject, since your biology is basically the same as his except for the Dark One-ness. Would you be willing?”

“No question,” Jones agreed without hesitation. “Whatever I can do to help.”

Whale looked relieved, as if he had truly doubted whether Jones would agree. “Great. Thank you.” He drew a big breath, clapped Jones on the uninjured shoulder–which still wasn’t the most comfortable gesture he could have made–and added, “I’ll take a look at tomorrow’s schedule and give you a call with instructions later this afternoon.”

With that, he whisked away, headed for Killian’s room.

Henry ran a hand through his hair, looking shell-shocked. “Man, I… I mean, I knew it was pretty bad, but… not thatbad.”

Regina briskly aimed the wheelchair toward the elevator, practically marching down the hall. “He’ll be all right, Henry. Whale’s pretty smart, despite his looks, and don’t forget, we’re still working on getting magic back, too. We’ll figure something out.”

No one brought up the fact that magic had been unable to help the victims brought in before its disappearance. The prognosis was grim enough as it was.

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AN: HUGE thank you to @justsomewhump, who unknowingly helped to make the resolution to this story so much better! The original thought was to have the poison defeat the Master no matter how it tried to escape, because it only loved itself. But justsomewhump’s amazing (and detailed!) comments helped highlight how it felt about Killian. One of the weaknesses of the original plot line was exactly what Killian brought up in this chapter: all of the suffering could have been avoided if only Jones had gone into the Vocivore’s presence earlier. But having its love focused on Killian gave his sacrifice a deeper meaning and meant that no one else could have done what he did. Which is much more satisfying, in my opinion :) So THANK YOU, friend (and happy belated birthday)!

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I had such a rough day today. I’m in partial hospitalization (a temporary day program) right now and some other patients there really pissed me off. Talking about how they think “psychos” shouldn’t be kept with other patients when being hospitalized. “There should be another ward for people like that.” I don’t know why it bothered me so much. Shit like that usually doesn’t get to me. I haven’t suffered from psychosis since early 2018. But the way they were talking about it… Like they are so fucking superior. It just got under my skin. Then they were talking about smoking weed, doing shrooms and lsd at festivals. “Not like bad drugs. I don’t consider that stuff real drugs.” Neither do I. But what exactly are “bad drugs”? Huh Karen? It’s getting hard to think again. Fuck my clouded mind! I need help. I need to make this feeling go away. My head is starting to hurt again! I need some “medication”. I don’t know where to get it anymore. I’m starting to feel myself fade again.

I just want some fucking drugs, man. Just need to forget the reality of my situation for a while.