TW: Depiction of death

"You idiot," Michael threw a glass bottle against the wall and shattered it.

After seeing Garroth's bruises and hearing Zack's comment about how hard it was to experiment on his son, Garte immediately drew conclusions about what was happening to Garroth. He called both Michael and Derek. When Michael picked up the phone, he explained to Garte that he thought it was an effect of the potion but he wasn't sure, and that he would speak to Zack and Elizabeth about it.

"I was just trying to make him more comfortable with us," Zack said defensively.

"By damn near selling us out?" Michael snapped. "Not only do you have Garte suspicious, but now Derek's on my ass with questions."

Michael, normally calm and collected, was fuming. Every word he said was hissed through his gritted teeth. Not a single one of his words was understanding, and his eyes remained their cold, steel grey.

Elizabeth stood to the side watching the interaction play itself out. She rolled her eyes at their unnecessary fighting. If the two of them would put their heads together, they'd be able to figure out a way to manipulate their wording to Garte.

Then again, they were men.

"Listen, I'm sorry, I wasn't thinking when I was talking," Zack pleaded.

"Clearly," Michael snapped.

A silence loomed over them. Michael continuously glared at Zack, who was just trying to keep his job. Michael was already paying him well, and promised much more if sales took off.

"I'm sure we can find a way to get Garte to believe us," Elizabeth said quietly, cautiously interfering.

"Garte isn't stupid," Michael pressed the bridge of his nose. "That's what you both don't understand. He is vulnerable, and depends too much on the input of those around him. But his mind is sharp, and he's perceptive."

"But he's vulnerable. We've used that to our advantage in the past," Zack said.

Michael sighed and dropped his hand from his face. He knew exactly how to manipulate Garte to a point to listen to him. But he couldn't have Zack, or Elizabeth for that matter, just going off rambling about it.

The Demon Warlock shook his head, his eyes flashing an aggressive green for but a moment, and stormed out of the room. He left Zack and Elizabeth in an awkward, yet simultaneously soothing silence.

"You fucked up," Elizabeth turned to Zack.

Zack slumped his shoulders and let his tired eyes trail to the floor. He really didn't mean to cause any issues, but it seemed that everywhere he went he started problems. At home with Sylvanna and his daughter, at work, everywhere.

"Hey, it's not a big deal," Elizabeth said, taking Zack's hand in her own after seeing his demeanor change.

"He's right. I didn't need to interfere," Zack replied while gladly accepting Elizabeth's hand.

"Don't worry about it. You know Michael. He'll get over it, and he'll figure it out with Garte and Derek. He always does," Elizabeth said in an unusual gentleness.

They shared a moment of silent tenderness between them. They didn't usually act on their romantic impulses, but Elizabeth was falling in love with everything about Zack and the feelings were not unrequited. It was a pure result of them spending so much time working together.

Everything they felt and did felt so wrong, and so right, and they couldn't control their impulses.

Zack planted a soft kiss on Elizabeth's lips, who went straight into the kiss along with them. They remained gentle with each other, for they feared that if they went further then they would not be able to stop. They knew they couldn't get sensual for fear of Michael walking in again.

Michael sat in his own office for what seemed like a few hours before he heard the door open. He spun around in his swivel chair, glancing up at the figure ahead of him.

"Garte? Aren't you not off work yet?" Michael asked.

Michael checked the time. It was three thirty in the afternoon, an hour and a half ahead of when Garte would normally leave his office. It was incredibly unusual for Garte to leave early for anything, even considering that he was still a young CEO.

"I can afford it. I need to talk to you," Garte shrugged.

Michael motioned to the chair sitting across from him. Normally, it was Zack and Elizabeth who sat there with their drawn out, elaborate plans. Garte seemed to sink from nerves when he sat down.

"I want Garroth out of the experiments," Garte said after a few moments.
Michael sat back, not replying for a few moments. He knew this was coming the second he saw Garte walk in. And yet, he felt so utterly unprepared for it.

The looming silence set Garte on edge. Michael's emotions were unreadable by his face alone. Oftentimes, he was unpredictable in how he was going to react. Garte swallowed, feeling his throat bob up and down.

"I'm afraid that cannot happen," Michael shook his head.

"He's my son. I say no. I don't care what you continue to do with these experiments, I just want Garroth out of it," Garte said as though he had anticipated this response.

Michael stood up and trailed the room for a moment. He stopped at the window to the right of Garte and leaned against it. He looked at Garte, who was trying to appear confident.

"You just let Derek make all your decisions, don't you?" Michael inquired.

"Derek has nothing to do with this. I saw the bruises. I heard Zack. I don't need more information," Garte scowled.

"You sound convicted."

"I am."

"Let me change that," Michael said quickly.

He rushed over to Garte and slammed his hand against his forehead. Immediately a bright, emerald green replaced Garte's normally deep blue iris color. Garte's head was forced back and was left in that position for several moments.

Garte was shoved into a vision. A vision so vivid and horrifying, he had thought he woke up from a dream and the past month of saving Garroth was all fake.

This vision started with him sitting next to Zianna. Her eyes were glazed over as she looked down at something in her arms.

Garte lowered his gaze to see what Zianna was so focused on. He almost recoiled at the sight. He saw Garroth, small and frail, so different from the child they knew even now. Except this child, this Garroth, was not breathing. There was a blue tint to his lips and fingertips.

"Alright Zianna, we're going to take him now," he heard a voice say.

He looked up to see an entirely unfamiliar mortician. Before he even had time to process he felt Zianna pull back from the man who was trying to take what remained   of their son.

"Zianna," Garte said, though not voluntarily. He also noticed he was involuntarily crying. "We have to. It's time."

Zianna slowly handed Garroth over to the mortician and sank into Garte's arms sobbing. Garte held her tightly, trying to do what he could to comfort her the best he could.

"My baby," she kept saying, over and over.

The vision flickered to the couple sitting at their oldest son's funeral. Garte held Vylad on his lap, who was resisting all efforts to keep him still. He held Zianna's hand tightly, who had her other arm wrapped around Zane.

He heard the cries and sniffles of everyone around him. He couldn't force himself to look at the casket that was entirely too small. His hands and body shook violently as he tried to hold back sobs.

"Buddy, you've got to hold still for me," Garte quietly told Vylad while whoever was giving a eulogy continued.

"GarGar!" Vylad attempted to wiggle off Garte's lap.

That's right. Vylad was too little. He was still a baby. There was nothing he could explain to his little one that would make this all make sense. He found himself scared that Vylad wouldn't even have memories of his eldest brother.

He glanced over at Zane, who was making an effort to comfort his mother in the best way a three year old knew how. He hugged her tightly, which Garte knew ZIanna deeply appreciated.

The vision skipped another few years. How many, Garte wasn't sure. But he found himself arguing with Zianna. His vision self realized that this was a recurring thing between them.

"It's like I don't even know you anymore," Zianna snapped at him.

"Of course you don't! You never cared to know me after Garroth..." He trailed off. It seemed that they could still not say that he had died however many years ago.

"I'm sorry I was too busy grieving my baby," Zianna replied with tears starting to well up in her eyes.

"You seem to always miss the fact that he was my baby, too," Garte said, feeling the tears welling up again.

There was no right or wrong in this argument. This was an argument that had been hashed out for many years, between two grieving parents who didn't know what to do with themselves. This was a miscommunication between two individuals who had lost themselves in losing what felt like everything.

Suddenly, Garte felt like he was sharply sucked out of the vision. Michael removed his hand from Garte's forehead and stood back.

"What the hell was that?" Garte shook his head and rubbed away tears from his face.

"That, my friend, is what happens when you decide to remove Garroth from experimentation," Michael said smugly.

Garte stared at the floor in horror. That wasn't his reality, that couldn't be. That had to be some false sense of being for whatever horrible reasons the universe decided.

"You wouldn't do that to your son, would you?" Michael said cunningly. "You'd really want to bring back his cancer, for what? So you can listen to your precious little Derek?"

Garte looked up at Michael with utter fear. He had no idea that this was a fake tethering of reality that the wizard had created in his mind and transferred through magic. That didn't matter, so long as Michael got his way.

"So what's it going to be, Garte? You want me to remove the potion and bring back his cancer?" Michael threatened.

Garte shook his head, "No. No, keep him in the experiments. I'm sorry I bothered you."

Michael nodded. Without a word, Garte stood up and left. He hesitated at the doorway, but then continued walking back to his car.

Garte couldn't speak, or think. The reality of what he saw was too raw, too fresh, too possible. He couldn't do that to his wife, or any of this three boys.

Michael stayed in his office for a minute before walking back to see Zack and Elizabeth. He gently knocked on the door, which is something Michael would not have done in his own office usually, but he knew better when it came to Zack and Elizabeth.

He opened the door to find the two of them writing on a whiteboard. The warlock didn't even care what they were writing, he walked straight up to Zack and grabbed his jacket.

"Was that Garte you were talking to?" Elizabeth asked in an effort to distract Michael and Zack from another fight.

Michael's eyes were flashing green again, but not as aggressively. Somehow, showing that vision to Garte had taken quite a bit out of him. Zack swallowed and looked his superior in the eye while waiting for him to say he was fired.

"So help me Irene, if you mess this up again, you'll wish I had killed you."