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"CASTOR!!!"
The first thing Lincoln processed from that scream was the pain in it. It was sharp and heart-wrenching, the kind of pain Lincoln had never heard before. But he had felt it before. It was the pain that came with death.
The second thing was that it was Amalia screaming. For some reason, in the middle of this insane battle, Amalia was screaming, screaming in pain.
It was only then Lincoln processed the name she'd cried.
It was like he'd been punched in the gut. All the wind was knocked out of him all at once and he forgot the fight entirely as he turned to try and find the Anchor in question. Before he could something heavy slammed into him and knocked him to the ground but he barely looked at it before throwing it off him and stomping on its skull hard enough that the golden lights in the bone dog's eyes went out immediately.
When he looked around again he didn't see Castor anywhere on the battlefield. What he did see was Amalia in a desperate and rage-fueled battle with Marianthe. Every move Amalia made was powerful and lethal. One swing of her staff would have killed the blonde except she managed to avoid every strike or deflect it with the dagger in her hand. The dagger they'd given her. The dagger currently soaked in blood.
Behind them, Lincoln could just see Abel on the ground on his knees. For one horrible moment, Lincoln's blood turned to ice as he realized the blood on that knife could be Abel's. The feeling didn't go away as he got closer and he heard Abel's voice, or when he saw what Abel was hovering over. Not who. What.
"No no no, come on sweetheart," Abel was pleading as he desperately tried to perform CPR. His hands and sweater were soaked with blood but it wasn't his. "Please, no, I can't lose you too, I can't, come back to me."
But Castor's body was still. No matter Abel's best efforts their chest refused to rise. Their fingers didn't twitch. Their eyes didn't blink. Their eyes, God, their eyes. Lincoln didn't love them as Abel did but he could appreciate how beautiful their eyes were. Not just because of the color but because of how much Castor was there. There was so much life, excitement, energy, warmth, and genuine love for the world around them. A world that was horrible to them their entire life but they would still give anything to save.
Even if it left those stunning eyes lifeless.
Lincoln could tell just from that. There was no bringing them back.
Castor Athantis was dead.
He just stood there frozen. All the fight was gone as he just stared. He couldn't speak or move. It was like the entire battle faded away to just Castor. No. Not Castor. Castor's body.
Lincoln didn't notice Marianthe's scream as she died with Amalia's spear in her chest. He didn't notice as the battle ended and the rest of their friends surrounded them.
Then something like an electric shock went through him, snapping him to attention. He noticed Connor on his knees, shoulders shaking with silent sobs as he gently reached over and pushed up Castor's glasses so he could close their eyes before lovingly putting their glasses back in place. He noticed Amalia collapse on the ground with painful cries wracking her body as she gathered Castor's body into her arms. He saw Abel struggling against Jocelyn who had tears on her face as she tried to restrain him despite his pleas.
"Let me go!" Abel demanded. "I have to help them, I have to-"
Lincoln kneeled next to him and put a hand on his shoulder. Abel turned to look at him and the expression of grief tangled with some far-fetched hope was all too familiar on his face. Lincoln hated that he had to be the one to crush it.
"They're gone, Abel," Lincoln said. It was like the life drained out of Abel too as he just collapsed right there, like a puppet without its strings. Lincoln wrapped his arms around his shoulders and Abel clung to the back of Lincoln's shirt, face buried in his shoulder. He wasn't even crying just…shaking. "It'll be okay. It doesn't feel like it but it will. I'm here. I'm not going anywhere, not this time."
"Promise?" Abel's voice was smaller than it ever should be.
"I promise."
Abel just nodded as he held onto Lincoln like a drowning man. He still wasn't crying and Lincoln didn't know if that was good or bad. He just sat there and trembled. Lincoln could feel his own tears though, tears he didn't even bother fighting because one of his best friends was a goddamn corpse on the ground, leaving a puddle of blood they were all kneeling in. They'd won the battle but with the blood on their hands, it didn't feel like it.
"Lincoln," Noah's voice broke as he said his name, and Lincoln looked up. But he didn't meet his eyes. Instead, Noah pointed, down, and when Lincoln looked he saw a blue glow coming from his pocket. He didn't have anything in his pocket. But he reached in and pulled out the pocket watch which was humming and glowing with power right there in his hand.
"What the hell?" Lincoln muttered. Not sure what else to do he hit the little button at the top and the watch popped open.
Then everything went to hell.
A blinding blue flash lit up the woods, forcing Lincoln to close his eyes or risk some sort of blindness. He could feel the surge of power too. He felt it through his entire body like electricity in his very veins, all from the little pocket watch in his hands.
The light faded and Lincoln heard voices. But it wasn't the quiet and broken voices of people in grief. It was laughter and teasing, though there was a slight nervousness in the air.
Lincoln opened his eyes and instead of kneeling on the blood-soaked ground with a broken Abel in his arms, he was standing in the lively kitchen of Connor's cabin. His friends were bustling around, gathering weapons and packing duffel bags.
"Val you can't bring the axe," Noah sighed.
"I don't see why not," Val scoffed and crossed his arms.
"Because the horrors are people, you could kill them," Connor pointed out. "If I thought I could I'd make you leave the bat too."
"No man can get between me and Daisy," Val rolled his eyes.
Lincoln watched the exchange with wide eyes. It was the exact conversation they'd had before leaving for the fight. Word for word, movement for movement. How was this possible? What the hell was happening?!
"Yo, Lincoln," A painfully familiar voice spoke and Lincoln whipped around to see Castor Athantis tilting their head at curiously, their expression clouded with worry. "Are you okay? You look like you've seen a ghost, and if you have then you really need to fill us in."
"Castor?" Lincoln just stood there staring like an idiot. This wasn't possible. Everything was exactly the same as that afternoon. The bruises and scratches from the fight were gone, and Castor's blood on his clothes and hands was gone too. The only difference was that he still had the pocket watch open in his hand.
"Yeah?" Castor smiled.
"You're okay," Lincoln said dumbly.
"'Course I'm okay," Castor frowned a little. "Are you?"
Lincoln moved before he thought, pulling Castor into a hug that had their chests pressed together tight enough he could feel their heartbeat. He let his face fall to Castor’s shoulder and he focused on the heartbeat. They were alive.
Somehow, that damn pocket watch let him go back in fucking time. He didn't know why and he didn't know how but he didn't give a shit. He had a second chance. A chance to save his friend. He wouldn't fail them, not again. He was going to protect them or he was going to die fucking trying.