Essence of Quinn Parts 3 & 4: Papa IV Era & The Main Event - Fate Breaker (MxM)

Cultured

“Quinn?”

Air’s voice startled Quinn out of his thoughts. He was standing in an alcove in the corridor of the basement cells, having a cigarette and taking a minute to decompress. Fire had taken over from him and he and Secondo were still in with Santos.

Air reached out and put a hand on Quinn’s shoulder tentatively. His concerned eyes searched Quinn’s face.

“I’m good,” Quinn said nonchalantly and the words sounded hollow.

He wasn’t, of course.

It had been a few days now. The interrogation had been hard going, not because of the physical side of it – none of the ghouls had an issue with that – but because of the toll it was taking on Secondo.

Quinn was doing his best to keep him level but even when sedated, Santos was still managing to filter in thoughts of his evil deeds to wear Secondo down. As predicted, he’d used memories of Itzal and some of the torture and humiliation he’d been subjected to effectively.

Every time the drugs began to wear off, Santos made sure to be very vocal about it also. Many of his injuries were a direct result of his venomous words. That would usually be the point where Secondo would give his ghouls and the ghouls and ghulehs from Sunshine’s pack the go ahead to have a little fun with him.

Quinn would be there at the end of it, or sometimes during, to make sure that Santos was healed enough not to die on them.

Secondo though, he was refusing to take a day off. He doggedly continued, filling notebook after notebook with black magic spells and potions and rituals. He was adamant that this had been worth it, but Quinn wasn’t so sure. He could feel the anger and the frustration that Secondo experienced, it lashed at him during the hours upon hours that they spent in the cell with Santos.

He felt every bit of the exhaustion that his summoner felt as if it were his own, not only in his body, but in his very soul.

Secondo couldn’t continue on like this for much longer. The ghouls and the Doc were all worried for him and even Copia and Terzo were taking notice now.

When Secondo retired for the night, he’d curl up on his bed, exhausted. The Doc knew that he was pushing himself too hard but even her pleas for him to take a break fell on deaf ears. She spent every night with him and on the worst nights Quinn would stay with them also.

Every morning, without fail, Secondo would show up at Santos’ cell again, seemingly unaffected to outsider’s eyes and ready to start all over again, unwilling to let Santos know just how much it was getting to him.

The burden of it weighed heavily on Quinn. As Secondo’s quintessence it was his job to prop him up, to keep him going, but very soon there was going to come a time where he would have to intervene. This was Secondo and his ghouls’ job, yes, but even Quinn admitted that it was becoming too much and they needed to slow it down.

Air frowned at him.

“You’re not fine.” He sighed wearily. “You’ve got the night off now, yes?”

Quinn glanced at him and nodded. Every break he’d had was the same. He’d stumble back to the lair and fall into bed, exhausted, trying his best to rest only for the cycle to begin again the following day. Air was exhausted also, their shift patterns hadn’t matched up so they’d barely seen each other since Santos and Sylvie’s arrival, only managing to snatch a quick lunch here and there or an hour or so to just be in each others’ presence. Without fail, Quinn would fall asleep ten minutes into whichever TV show they’d curled up on the sofa to watch together.

“Yes. I’m off until tomorrow night.”

Air pursed his lips and a glint appeared in his eyes as they regarded Quinn.