You're Alive. [Colgate]

There was an ache somewhere in his chest that would not cease.

Colgate's knuckles pressed into the fabric of his jeans, the skin stretched taut over fingers as they turned a sharp white. His nails dug deep into the palms of his hands. He hadn't tended to them, and never did anymore. Sometimes the sharp edges would cut into his skin, drawing blood.

He did this whenever something bad flitted through his brain, a stray complaint or a memory that brought back pain. If he said or did something wrong, his hands would pull into themselves and his face would contort in an ugly way, and when he was alone, he would often swear aloud.

Sometimes he would forget when someone was present. Sometimes he would fold into himself and try to shake away the thought with ugly words, but there would be someone there to witness his struggle.

Today, that person was an Avox.

When his fingernails scraped at the skin of his palm, when he shook his head to try to get rid of the ugly memory overtaking his brain, when he murmured "god FUCKING damn it" a little too loud-- he heard a sharp intake of breath from the corner of his training center bedroom as he stepped through the door. His eyes snapped up to the frail man, heart seizing in his chest.

There was a lot of fear in the eyes across from him. The avox froze like a frightened deer, hands midway through making the bed.

Another memory, an uglier one, flashed in front of the victor's eyes.

"Don't you worry," he'd drawled those years ago, all smiles and sweetness. "I'm not a bad guy."

He remembered the blood, the soap on the floor, the dead eyes of a girl whose life was only a flicker to begin with.

It was easy, then, to snuff out the light. It was too easy to be cruel when the world was forever cruel in return.

When he looked into the eyes of this Avox, he could see the same fear. The same faint glow.

Colgate's lip trembled. He stared down at his feet, letting go of the pressure on his fists.

"Sorry," he said softly, avoiding the man's gaze. "Please leave."

The avox made a move to finish making the bed, but Colgate reached out a hand.

"No, n-"

The Avox shied away from him as if he had been struck, then bolted from the room. The door clicked closed, and Colgate shut his eyes tight, as if drowning the world in black could remove his presence within it.

"Stupid, stupid, stupid..."

He meant to collapse on the partially-made bed, but he didn't quite make it there.

His knees hit the floor, and he slowly drifted to one side. When he landed on the soft carpet, he stared straight ahead, eyeing the ornate wall, mind blank. He felt nothing in that moment, just the scratchy feeling of carpet against his cheek. For a number of seconds, he was numb to the memory, existing in the moment.

Cordelia...

If Cordelia were there, in another timeline, she would surely lift him up and pull him into a hug.

Except she wasn't.

His lifeline was gone, gone because he chose it, gone because he realized that no person alive could ever heal him except himself.

There was a faint ache in his hand as the heavy realization weighed on him, as it did most days.

Nobody would save him.

Nobody could save him from this. Nor should they; it was not the world's responsbility to make him feel whole. The thought ached, drawing a steady pain through his heart and through his arms and hands, a weight so visceral it might as well have been a wound.

"You're okay, you're okay, you're okay..." he whispered to nobody.

You're okay.

You're alright.

You're alive.