Tick.

tick tick tick tick tick

                                            

His hands shake.

        “Calm down.”

        “I'm fine.”

        “...Will he be okay?”

He doesn't answer.

        “Will you be okay?”

        “Fetch me that glass of water, will you?”

 

Snow sits on the edge of the second bed, watching his older brother. His forehead furrows, frowns; healer and murderer, interlocked. Their voices meld in his mind.

 

There is no end. The night stretches on forever. There is silence except for the movements that Scout is making, and the steady tick-tick-ticking sound.

 

Every tenth tick, the clock seems to stop, and Snow always panics a little. He ends up falling asleep there, not waking until Scout shakes him awake.

 

“He woke, but then he just fell back asleep. I think he'll live.”

 

        He gets off the bed, and remembers a little belatedly that Scout doesn't need to sleep anymore. Awkwardly, he pulls the chair out from the desk and pulls it up next to Gen's bed. The boy murmurs something that he can't hear. He doesn't try to listen closer.

 

“Thanks.”

 

But the tin man in his mind still blames him.