Flesh and Bone (Jesse Custer, Proinsias Cassidy, Tulip O'Hare)
Decided to get this ficlet out before tonight's ep of Preacher ; )
Set right after "He Gone."
"Or will you let me burn too?"
And Jesse did let him burn. Maybe just for a few seconds, or maybe for hours, Cassidy couldn't tell the difference. All he knew was that the pain was unbearable, and the sun was doing its damnedest to wipe him out of existence, while his wretched curse wouldn't give him the mercy of death.
He couldn't die, but he did lose consciousness eventually. Mostly. His eyes had melted shut, and his ears, but he felt something heavy fall on him, felt the chemical foam of the fire extinguisher coat his skin. And then his brain shut off completely.
When he came to again, it took him a good long while to get his bearings. He knew it was Jesse that had pulled him out of the merciless light, Jesse that had put out the flames, and Jesse that had carried him into the attic and left him there, stinking of burnt flesh and closer to death than he'd been in a century. At least he'd been nice enough to leave him on a pile of tattered, moth-chewed blankets. He'd even taken the time to tape an old newspaper over the one small window. Thoughtful, that.
Tulip came by some time later. He smelled her scent even before she slammed the door open, muttered, "Fuck," and left again. She came back again a few minutes, hours, days later, Cassidy wasn't really sure. Time didn't mean much of anything in the state he was in. But she was back, and she'd brought him an armful of blood bags. She fed them to him, nursing him like he was a goddamn baby calf or something even more pathetic. But he was grateful for it, downed them as quickly as he could manage with a perforated throat and charred esophagus. The blood helped and he started to heal, from the inside out, but even after all the bags were emptied and his eyes started working again, he still looked more like a shriveled raisin that had fallen through the grates of a grill. He let out an undignified moan when he tried to move, and Tulip stirred, from where she'd been sleeping, on the other side of the room.
"I can get more," she said, pushing herself to her elbows.
Cassidy shook his head. "I'll be all right," he croaked, and oh, talking was terrible, and swallowing, as it turned out, felt like swallowing razor blades.
"That son of a bitch," she said. "We'll get out of here, soon as you can move."
"Who, Jesse?" Cassidy said, wincing. "He didn't-"
"Didn't what?" Jesse said, from the door.
Cassidy hadn't heard him come in, and judging by Tulip's expression, neither had she.
Jesse came in, floorboards creaking under his weight as he sat down next to Cassidy.
"You here to finish the job?" Tulip asked, glaring daggers at him. How sweet.
"No," Jesse said, and unbuttoned the cuff of his shirt, rolling up the sleeve, baring his forearm. He reached down to his pocket, pulled out a switchblade and flipped it open, then slid it smoothly across his wrist.
"That's kind of you, but you ain't got enough-"
"Just drink," Jesse said, holding his wrist right up to Cassidy's mouth.
Cassidy latched on and did as he was told, and Jesse said, "Be healed," and even though he'd said it all quiet-like, those words echoed in Cassidy's bones and suddenly the blood in his mouth was the elixir of the gods, manna from heaven, the best whiskey in the whole damn world, it was incredible, and it made him whole. And, still drinking, Cassidy turned to look at Jesse and he saw him, all of him, saw blue fire in his eyes, ram's horns made of shadow curling up from his head. He pulled away in shock.
Jesse yanked his arm away and stood, staggering a few steps, and then, like they were helping him balance, a pair of massive wings unfolded from his back, their edges brushing the old wooden walls with that same eerie blue fire.
"Well shite," Cassidy said, staring at Jesse as the light-show started to fade.
"What the hell just happened?" Tulip asked. She pushed herself to her feet, came over to crouch next to Cassidy. "You said it didn't matter if it was from bags, or from-"
"Doesn't matter."
"Then why'd-"
"I don't know." Cassidy looked at Jesse. Maybe he should've said 'thank you,' or maybe 'fuck you' would've been more appropriate, all things considered, but before he could say anything at all, Jesse turned and left the attic, heading back downstairs.
Set right after "He Gone."
"Or will you let me burn too?"
And Jesse did let him burn. Maybe just for a few seconds, or maybe for hours, Cassidy couldn't tell the difference. All he knew was that the pain was unbearable, and the sun was doing its damnedest to wipe him out of existence, while his wretched curse wouldn't give him the mercy of death.
He couldn't die, but he did lose consciousness eventually. Mostly. His eyes had melted shut, and his ears, but he felt something heavy fall on him, felt the chemical foam of the fire extinguisher coat his skin. And then his brain shut off completely.
When he came to again, it took him a good long while to get his bearings. He knew it was Jesse that had pulled him out of the merciless light, Jesse that had put out the flames, and Jesse that had carried him into the attic and left him there, stinking of burnt flesh and closer to death than he'd been in a century. At least he'd been nice enough to leave him on a pile of tattered, moth-chewed blankets. He'd even taken the time to tape an old newspaper over the one small window. Thoughtful, that.
Tulip came by some time later. He smelled her scent even before she slammed the door open, muttered, "Fuck," and left again. She came back again a few minutes, hours, days later, Cassidy wasn't really sure. Time didn't mean much of anything in the state he was in. But she was back, and she'd brought him an armful of blood bags. She fed them to him, nursing him like he was a goddamn baby calf or something even more pathetic. But he was grateful for it, downed them as quickly as he could manage with a perforated throat and charred esophagus. The blood helped and he started to heal, from the inside out, but even after all the bags were emptied and his eyes started working again, he still looked more like a shriveled raisin that had fallen through the grates of a grill. He let out an undignified moan when he tried to move, and Tulip stirred, from where she'd been sleeping, on the other side of the room.
"I can get more," she said, pushing herself to her elbows.
Cassidy shook his head. "I'll be all right," he croaked, and oh, talking was terrible, and swallowing, as it turned out, felt like swallowing razor blades.
"That son of a bitch," she said. "We'll get out of here, soon as you can move."
"Who, Jesse?" Cassidy said, wincing. "He didn't-"
"Didn't what?" Jesse said, from the door.
Cassidy hadn't heard him come in, and judging by Tulip's expression, neither had she.
Jesse came in, floorboards creaking under his weight as he sat down next to Cassidy.
"You here to finish the job?" Tulip asked, glaring daggers at him. How sweet.
"No," Jesse said, and unbuttoned the cuff of his shirt, rolling up the sleeve, baring his forearm. He reached down to his pocket, pulled out a switchblade and flipped it open, then slid it smoothly across his wrist.
"That's kind of you, but you ain't got enough-"
"Just drink," Jesse said, holding his wrist right up to Cassidy's mouth.
Cassidy latched on and did as he was told, and Jesse said, "Be healed," and even though he'd said it all quiet-like, those words echoed in Cassidy's bones and suddenly the blood in his mouth was the elixir of the gods, manna from heaven, the best whiskey in the whole damn world, it was incredible, and it made him whole. And, still drinking, Cassidy turned to look at Jesse and he saw him, all of him, saw blue fire in his eyes, ram's horns made of shadow curling up from his head. He pulled away in shock.
Jesse yanked his arm away and stood, staggering a few steps, and then, like they were helping him balance, a pair of massive wings unfolded from his back, their edges brushing the old wooden walls with that same eerie blue fire.
"Well shite," Cassidy said, staring at Jesse as the light-show started to fade.
"What the hell just happened?" Tulip asked. She pushed herself to her feet, came over to crouch next to Cassidy. "You said it didn't matter if it was from bags, or from-"
"Doesn't matter."
"Then why'd-"
"I don't know." Cassidy looked at Jesse. Maybe he should've said 'thank you,' or maybe 'fuck you' would've been more appropriate, all things considered, but before he could say anything at all, Jesse turned and left the attic, heading back downstairs.