#constricting cus he's trapped

[ehslye]

his sight had grown a desert skin

[stageplayhero]

@rabbitholewritten cued:

The Void, for a rare moment, is quiet.

It may be that, rather, Rue has learned to ignore the constant noise. It is entirely likely, with how long they have been trapped with it. In this moment, it may be that their thoughts are elsewhere.

Their desk and chair are surrounded by emptiness. They always have been. Nothing but a void of darkness on all sides, expanding endlessly. Rue has the capability to manipulate it, to create invisible objects and furniture and even structures, but it is still darkness.

Their chair feels confining. Standing, they leave the script open on their desk. Chest tight, their entire existence feeling constricted, they know that they must move. They need a moment away, even if only brief.

A short few strides bring them to something that the vision of Mark had led them to create. They know that it was there, before — the place where their window had been in their office, in relation to their desk. A window, letting in sunlight, letting them feel the illusion that they were outside, that they were not confined.

That feeling is so foreign, now ...

Palm against the nonexistent glass, they stand, observing the empty space where the window would have been. Escaping to nostalgia, allowing old memories to resurface. How many times had Mark dragged them away ? How many times had he shown up in their office to bring some light to their day ? How many times had he, unknowingly, brought the relief that they so desperately needed ? That he had provided the levity that kept them from snapping, and the reminder that they still had any life outside of their job ?

Those are times long past, they remind themself. Old memories.

This time he's going to do it. This time it's going to work.

Mark holds a handful of framed photos above the trash, brow furrowed as if it's genuinely causing him physical strain. He took them from Rue's old office. He's tried to get rid of them many times since.

The sentimentality has no purpose. He chose them to be his enemy.

He gives in to whatever's halting him, in the end. Returns the photos to a drawer that he slams shut, and returns himself to his seat at the desk in the middle of his study.

Memories threaten to overtake his thoughts. They get pushed aside, but he has no idea where they get pushed aside to.

-

"Am I interrupting some important mayoral pondering?" Mark teases, walking up to Harper at the window. He'd always been in the habit of dropping in on them, once.

If Rue needs levity, relief, a break away, the echo can easily adapt to that role.

He pauses to study them. To see if they're in need of distraction. Working away in an office like this all day, with no change of scenery, is something he can't imagine. He doesn't know the half of it.

"You know," he says, innocently. "I'm sure all of that paperwork wouldn't mind terribly if you stepped out for a minute or two. You look like a tragic hero lamenting over their lot in life."

They get so busy, of course, that they may not have the time, the capability. "Or, I could bring you up some ice cream. That would be a nice taste of the outside world."

[hideawayintheimaginationworld]

Could we get a short story about Millie having a nightmare about Molten Freddy?

Millie was in the graveyard, it had become like her original Dreamscape for the last few months.

It was more like Hell.

Her own personal handcrafted Hell.

It was always cold here, even wearing her black and purple hoodie, she was hugging herself to keep herself warm and to try to feel safe.

She walked ahead, she was not wearing shoes but she didn’t feel the ground physically on her feet, she just felt numb besides the feeling beneath her cold skin, it was like a cold that was freezing the insides of her bones, like sharp icicles grew in her body and muscles, making her walking almost robotic and stiff.

She ignored the tombstones around her, there were many, she knew looking at them was a mistake, there were the many, many symbols of death. She wanted to forget this place but something just kept bringing her back it appeared.

She looked around, she knew she was alone but she felt like she was physically stalked by a predator, she wondered if this was how someone as paranoid as Delilah felt at times, just the deep pit in the gut feeling, something dark creeping not too far behind, sharpening its claws.

She wanted this to end, it was just an open dead land full of broken tombstones, open graves, and trees that snapped like bones when she stepped on them, and a ground that was dead and dry.

Millie started to walk up a hill, the ground almost seem to scratch at her feet like it was trying to make her uncomfortable, she kept going, she tried to push away the thought that something bad was there, she was in control of her dreams, she could leave when she wanted, she wasn’t trapped against her will.

She sometimes couldn’t help but feel like a lost spirit looking for a purpose, even in the real world. She just existed instead of living, she could walk in the streets, listening to music and feel just as empty as right now.

Like something was missing.

Maybe something actually did die on that day when she met Funtime Freddy.

Maybe it was her hope if she ever had any in the first place.

“Keep running, we'll be there.”

Her empty feeling was replaced by fear, it grew deep roots and twisted her in such a way she stood still, hearing leaves rustling around somewhere. She didn’t like how quiet this world was.

“The dead are also quiet.”

No, you won’t.

She started running forward, as she did, her legs started to burn and ache, she felt some resistance like something was trying to pull her back, she kept reminding herself of how strong she was, she was still alive and she wouldn’t fall, so each time she was caught and put down, she could rise stronger than ever.

The ground started to wobble like she was running on a soft surface like pillows, Millie tried to keep running but fell back into something, her heart gave a nasty start as she looked up and saw a glowing orange eye and sharp teeth greeted her.

She jumped up to avoid a wire grabbing at her, she ran ahead, seeing it had given her the strength to run in fear, this isn’t real, she reminded herself, I’m not trapped, this is just a stupid dream!!

The beast snarled at her, she heard it pounding the ground behind her as it ran, well it ran strangely. It was a strange version of Funtime Freddy, it was missing its body and only had the broken, jagged face, sharp teeth and sharper claws, the whole body was made up of wire tendrils that twisted and slithered like a snake. She heard it make another strange gargled sound.

“MIlliE.”

She tripped, she didn’t realise it tripped her leg until she was dragged backwards.

“sTAy wITh mE, L-LeT'S cOunT thE wAys.”

Her fingernails tried to dig into the dirt so she wasn’t pulled backwards, all it accomplished was her fingernails getting large chunks of dirt that started to get under her skin, making her whine in pain, she turned to see the broken face, it had a face.

It had a weakness.

Millie let herself be pulled towards him before lifting her leg, and delivering a hard kick to the broken face, hearing it crack and crumble, the beast grabbed his face with one of its hands and screeched in what sounded like pain. Millie felt the wire on her leg was loose so she backed away on her hands and knees before she stood up and ran as fast as she could, reasoning she had time to outrun it as it didn’t even have a real body.

Plus this was Funtime Freddy.

Well a version of him at least, she had seen he wasn’t a fast runner.

She felt a rush of adrenaline and almost pride that was shown in her running picking up speed, she had always been a scared little girl and she had just kicked him to escape, she never stood up to him, usually, she'd cower like a little rabbit and someone else would have to help her. Her heart felt ready to explode from her chest, she didn’t know if it was from fear or feeling happy she escaped without help.

She could see the sky above change, from the endless cloudy night sky to sunset colours, vibrant splashes of orange, yellow and pink, this filled her with hope, she kept running, wanting to escape the dark and go to the light, the hope of a better tomorrow.

She was on the top of the hill, she saw the tall iron fence, and the gate.

She ran to the gate, trying to pull it open, but it only rattled slightly, she looked at the giant padlock on the other side. Locked, she immediately grumbled in her thoughts thinking of the inconvenience of it being locked.

She thought of how she could open it, forcing it open wide enough so she could squeeze through or even climbing over the fence, when she saw a few metres outside of the fence was a wooden bench with a man sitting on it.

She recognised him immediately.

“Grandpa!”

Her Grandpa just sat there, he was looking around, all Millie saw was the back of his head.

“Grandpa, I’m here! Can you help me?” She asked.

She heard footsteps, she saw Lefty had come from nowhere, his face was fixed into a frown.

“What are you doing outside? It's cold.”

“Lefty! I need help he's after me!!” Millie told him.

“Stephan?”

Millie realised that was her Grandpa, he didn’t even seem to know she was there.

It was like she disappeared completely.

“Lefty, I need help!!” She started to shake the gate nonstop, she looked behind her anxious it would crawl up behind her at any point, she started to sweat and shake at that possibility.

Lefty stepped to her Grandpa, putting his hand on his shoulder.

“I’m sorry,” Lefty shook his head.

“No, no, it's not your fault,” She heard him sniffle.

Was he crying? She had never heard him cry, he was such a positive person, he never cried, he did look sad and disappointed but Millie had never seen him cry

“Oh no, please don’t cry...”

“I would honestly give anything for another day with her...”

“We all would, Millie was more valuable than she thought... and I will not let a monster steal another child from me...” Lefty responded, “Let's go away from this place of misery...”

“Lefty!! Grandpa!!” Millie cried desperately, she looked behind her again before shouting, “He's going to kill me, help!!” She watched helplessly as they walked away, she reached out her hand waving it around watching them slowly faded into the white space ahead, Millie saw a better place within her grasp and it was fading away.

She started crying and let out a scream, she wanted to be seen. She wanted to be heard.

She existed!

She was real!

She screamed again when she was pulled backwards.

She was forced face to face by the beast, it snarled at her, wires tangled around her torso, hanging her off the ground, she used her hands to try and force them off, she looked behind her and she could still faintly see Lefty and her Grandpa.

“ThEy cAn't hear you lambchOp...”

She looked at Funtime Freddy's broken face with teary eyes, she could see the orange light flicker blue then turn red, a bright red that blinded her, she shielded her eyes, frowning and pulling herself to get away from him.

“How UnFortuNAte...” Funtime Freddy snapped his jaw after saying that, Millie flinched, seeing the wall of teeth.

The wires around her torso tighten, it felt like a series of ropes pulling and pulling, she swore she felt her skin burn and her muscles tensed.

“GooDBye!”

She was suddenly thrown upwards then abruptly thrown back down, and she realised the ground was there, she was going to have her head smashed.

She couldn’t even scream.

She felt her head beginning to ache, she turned her head to try to shield the impact, hoping it would be quick at the very least.

She gasped as she fell out of bed instead, landing on the floor with a thud.

She looked around, everything changed.

She forgot she was in a nightmare.

She was in her room, she had tangled herself in her blanket, which she immediately pulled apart, thinking of the constriction and wanting to be free.

She looked around, she could hear the faint ticking of Sarah's wristwatch across the room, she saw the silhouettes of the bookshelf, the closet, and Sarah herself, still asleep, obviously having a dreamless sleep tonight.

Millie sat on the ground, trying to make sense of what she saw when she realised she was still crying.

She was just terrified, having no real idea of where that manifestation came from, it was like a snake, ready to strike whenever.

Like the real Funtime Freddy, moving silently in the night like a monster.

She got to her feet, wobbling, she grabbed onto her bed to support herself while she stood up, she walked a few shaky steps and reached for the door handle, pulling it open then looking outside.

The hallway was empty, she could see the darkness ahead but she knew at the end of the hallway, Lefty was asleep in bed, undisturbed.

She wondered if he ever had nightmares.

She stepped back to look at her bedside table and felt around for her phone, she didn’t keep much on her little table, usually, the current book she was reading, her medication, a small notebook, earphones, and her lamp.

She finally got a grip on the shape and pulled it up, pressing the button which illuminated the screen and the current time.

4:56 AM.

Of course, everyone else would be asleep, she would have to be awake for school at 7:30 AM. School was actually the last thing on her mind right now, she couldn’t really talk at school.

She pressed the button to turn off the screen and placed it down, she then looked back into the hallway.

She took two steps out and silently closed the door behind her, she then quietly walked ahead to Lefty's room.

She was confronted by the door, which was the final gate.

A gate which she could open.

She had a decision, a sense of freedom she never had before.

She didn’t want to keep living in darkness, she had seen others living in the light.

She wanted that.

She knew she needed help.

Asking was difficult.

She grabbed the door handle and pushed open the door, closing it behind her, she saw Lefty asleep on his bed, on his side, looking like a real bear in the dark.

She tiptoed over and was directly next to him, she pushed his shoulder back, Lefty didn’t even move, she gripped his shoulder and shook it.

During the shaking, Lefty's eye cracked open and he looked at Millie.

“Wat do you want...?” He said sounding half awake.

Millie didn’t say anything, Lefty then blinked and it fully opened his eyes, his eye started glowing in the dark room, it was a soft glow like a nightlight.

“Millie?” He asked, his voice still sounding groggy, he pushed himself to sit up and looked at her.

“What's wrong?”

Millie felt her throat tighten, she felt like the monster was behind her, ready to catch her, it seized her throat and stopped her from talking.

She didn’t know if it was Funtime Freddy or fear.

Thinking about that brought tears to her eyes.

She let out a sob before becoming silent, tensing up.

“Millie, it's okay,” Lefty said, he got out of bed, and stood up, immediately hugging her to his torso, she hid her face in the mass of fluff on his chest, “I'm here... It’s okay...”

Millie felt trapped by this real-life nightmare.

“Did you have a nightmare?” He asked.

She pulled away slightly and nodded.

“Would you like to tell me or no?”

Millie wiped away her tears then answered, “Funtime Freddy is a monster...”

Lefty nodded, “I know... he is selfish... it's okay now... it wasn’t real... you're okay... and I would personally throw Funtime Freddy into open traffic before he ever got near you...”

Millie wiped her eyes again, she hated the feeling of crying, it made her feel pathetic, especially crying in front of other people, it was a weakness they could pick.

“You're supposed to be awake in a few hours... Millie...” Lefty spoke softly, “Would you like me to call your Grandpa? You can take the day off school and spend the day relaxing if you want...”

Millie looked away, “He'd be asleep.”

“He said if you ever needed him, you could call him, at any time, I’m sure he doesn’t care if you wake him up.”

That was the type of person he was.

She remembered how awful she was to him at times, how snappy and annoyed she sounded.

He was always so sweet and caring.

“Yes... I'll call him...” She nodded.

Millie was sitting on the sofa downstairs, she had taken her blanket with her, Annabel Lee, being disturbed by her, followed her downstairs and jumped into her lap, Millie held her phone in her hand, hesitating to actually wake up her Grandpa. She looked up at Lefty, watching him talk to Helpy in the kitchen, they were going back and forward, Helpy looked worried and looked around, Lefty shook his head and said something that assured him because his worried look disappeared, Lefty smiled at him and Helpy walked away from the conversation. Surprisingly, Helpy immediately walked over to Millie and jumped onto the sofa, sitting next to her.

As scary as he was because he looked like Funtime Freddy...

He thought about the comment Sarah said about him...

He was like a marshmallow, soft and puffy, and an absolute sweetheart.

“You are much braver than you realise... a normal person would have died by now.”

Helpy turned his head to her, she would sometimes see the menacing blue eyes of Funtime Freddy reflected back... the eyes that wanted to kill her... the bloodthirsty eyes...

But this time she saw almost the colour of the sky.

A bright blue sky in Helpy's big, child-like eyes...

Seeing the sky reminded her she was still alive.

“Are you going to call your Grandpa or do you want me to?” Helpy asked her.

“No... no... I will,” she finally pressed the icon to call the home phone at her Grandpa's house.

She pressed it to her ear, it rang a couple of times before she heard a click.

“Hello?”

“Grandpa? I hope you don’t mind...” Millie spoke sounding nervous at waking him up early.

“No, no Millie... I’m happy to talk to you...” She heard his voice, while he sounded slightly tired, she could hear the warmth in his voice.

She felt relieved but didn’t expect what he said next:

“I'm glad you still talk to me.”

Millie blinked, she then answered, “Of course I want to talk to you.”

“It's always nice to hear from you Millie, you are surrounded by people that care for you, and even when I’m not next to you, I'm still thinking about my brave granddaughter... and how far she has come...”

Millie smiled, life wasn't perfect, but it was the best it could possibly be at this stage.

It was helped greatly by Lefty and her Grandpa, and their reassuring words.

[guksthighs]

Alone || poly

Excerpt: ‘The world would fall away around his chair or feet until it was just Yoongi. Always all alone, again.’

Genre: angst, comfort, fluff

Length: 1.7k

A/N: it’s been a hard month, so i wrote and somewhere along the road yoongi became the idol i wrote about. i know some people have noticed i seem different and i guess that’s cus i am? anyway sorry for this imagine. there is some comfort haha

there are probably gonna be more like this coming up. sorry.

** i am in no way implying yoongi feels or thinks this way.

trigger warnings:: mentions of anxiety, worthlessness, depression (?) just don’t read if you’re easily triggered.

If you feel similar to the emotions described in this imagine please seek help, you deserve it.

It was a harmless comment but then that’s usually all it takes for the spiral to begin. A spiral isn’t the best description, he usually described it as being trapped in a room underwater, with a slow leak.

The water would be lapping at your feet, soaking through your socks and causing a mild irritation and you would try and distract yourself. Until it becomes impossible, the water is at your waist making every movement an effort, an excursion that you don’t have the energy for-

The tentative voice of Jimin broke Yoongi’s train of thoughts, “your lip is bleeding.” He placed a finger to his lip, pulling it away in surprise as the bitter taste of copper flooded his mouth. During times when he was this out of it, all his senses would dull and then fade; the constant hum of chatter from the boys would fade away until it felt like it was just him.

The world would fall away around his chair or feet until it was just Yoongi. Always all alone, again.

“Yoongi? You okay?” Jimin’s eyes betrayed the worry he had managed to conceal in his voice. Yoongi was familiar with that look. But he shook his head, shaking away the thoughts for long enough to clear the fog and smile at Jimin.

“You worry too much pipsqueak-”

Jimin’s eyes went from unsure to angry, jumping back he straightened his back and pointed his chin at the sky as if balancing something on his nose like a seal in an aquarium, “I’m taller than you Min YoONGI!”

Yoongi nodded and didn’t bother making the comment about insoles or that Jimin was standing and not sitting, or that he was balancing on the tips of his toes.

The comment hadn’t been made to chip away at Jimin’s self-confidence that the boy had just managed to get to a decent place, but to distract his friend from Yoongi’s current problems.

The problems that made his chest tight from being in that room full of water for so long, too long. Yoongi knew it was coming, everything was getting louder and the colours seemed to be too vibrant for his eyes to recognise. He shut his eyes.

“Yoongi?” It was Namjoon, he cracked an eye open to look at the leader with a wry smile, “we don’t need you for any of the other tracks, go home.” The leader was smart, he could see the bags under his friend’s eyes and knew that his constant excuse of work was not the real reason why Yoongi was struggling so much.

As he stood up his head felt strangely light, Yoongi quickly walked out of the studio and kept walking until he got to the lift. The button lit up as his finger pressed it and then he was alone.

The past week had been full of deadlines and today was meant to have been a rest for everyone. Instead, they had all been called in to work on vocals for a new song because the studio had ‘deleted’ them.

The lift door opened; images of being trapped and forgotten flashed through his mind. The lift was empty and Yoongi blinked to notice the doors were no longer open. Maybe it was better that he took the stairs, fewer metal boxes included.

As he began walking down he wondered if the lift was a symbol for his life. He only ever noticed doors shutting in his face, and believed what was behind them was incredible. But maybe they always held nothing behind them, maybe his whole life was full of empty rooms because he had no path to follow.

He was alone.

The stairs were cold as Yoongi’s ass came into contact with it, his legs seemed to have collapsed underneath him. Yoongi was too tired to pretend to be surprised, instead, he made a hum of acknowledgement, he slid down the last few steps until he reached the floor. He was probably going to get a bruise, but it didn’t matter.

It felt like his throat was constricting, tears began to swim blurring his vision.

Maybe if he stopped moving he’d be able to forget everything. Give himself enough time to get rid of all this water that was filling his lungs now, Yoongi’s breathing began to jolt as he desperately tried to stop thinking.

But his mind had erupted with all the thoughts he had been suppressing; he felt weak and stupid.

Everyone offered him help but he could never accept it.

He didn’t need help.

He didn’t deserve help.

A sob echoed around the stairwell, Yoongi looked around surprised at the noise until he realised it was him making it. He was crying, nose running and hands trembling like leaves being tugged at by the wind.

Yoongi realised he was waiting for someone to come, someone to notice that he wasn’t okay and save him. But as his tears began to dry and his sobs lessen, he understood that no one was coming.

That’s what he deserved. He was ‘cold-hearted’ and he fulfilled the role well. He’d said he was okay, so why would they go searching for him? He stood up, wiped his nose on a piece of paper with old lyrics on them and began heading home.

His body felt heavy, his arms felt like they were dragging against the floor as he walked the short distance back to the dorm.

The sky was black, lights on the side of the road illuminated the way and Yoongi wondered when it had become night. Why his life seemed to be slipping through his fingers like sand, it was all too much for him.

There was something about walking alone that made Yoongi feel happy, the gentle breeze was a comfort and seemed to sound better than any song he would ever be able to produce.

When he was alone, Yoongi didn’t feel the need to be upbeat, to try and pretend that he wasn’t struggling with so many small things that just seemed lame when he went to talk about them.

The door seemed larger than he remembered, towering over him and making him feel like maybe it would be easier to just turn around and walk back to the studio. He had been sleeping there for the past week because Yoongi was starting to feel like he didn’t fit in with the fast-paced and constantly happy boys.

Just as he began to back away, the door swung open and Jeongguk’s eyes widened as he looked at his elder, “Hyung?” The boy took a tentative step forward, his gym bag falling from his shoulder as he tackled Yoongi in a hug.

“Please come in, please sleep here tonight?” Jeongguk seemed so vulnerable, his shoulders were shaking and quickly Yoongi wrapped his arms around his back.

Jeongguk pulled away to inspect Yoongi, instead, his eyes widened at the state of the elder boy before he squeezed him back into a hug. “Don’t cry,” Yoongi’s eyes widened as he realised the sting in his eyes was because he was crying, tears streamed down his cheeks as he sobbed into Jeongguk’s chest.

It wasn’t long before Jimin walked to the door, confused as to why Jeongguk had forgotten to shut it on his way out. When he saw the state of his friends, he quickly alerted the rest of the door before shoving past Jeongguk to see Yoongi.

“You wanted help,” he muttered, head ducking down to rest on Yoongi’s chest as Jimin began to cry, “I should have been there. We love you so much, don’t just hide these things. Please?”

Yoongi was less hysterical, sitting silently with Jeongguk squeezing his hand and Jimin talking to him, head leaning on Yoongi’s chest so all the elder could see was a mop of black unruly hair.

Soon enough the rest of the boys filed through the door that seemed so much smaller than before, less threatening than before and Yoongi sunk into the hugs of his closest friends. Everyone was silent and yet it was obvious that there was a shared thought over the boys.

Hoseok was the one to break the silence, he had his arms wrapped around Yoongi’s waist, “you’re one of us.” His voice was shaking and Yoongi felt horrible, beginning to squirm at the idea of hurting the people he loved the most, “you don’t have to act or pretend anymore. It’s okay that you feel this way, as long as we get to help you.”

Yoongi finally managed to swivel as he hugged Hoseok back, pressing a firm kiss to the younger’s head, “I’ll do my best.” his laugh was obviously fake and everyone tightened their collective hug. It was warm, and Yoongi began to wonder the last time he had felt so at home, he had felt so cold and alone. Now with everyone surrounding him, he let himself be the centre of the attention, even if it was just going to be for a bit.

“You’re not going anywhere,” Yoongi looked up at Namjoon whose brows had creased in worry, the boy understanding to an extent what had most likely happened to Yoongi over the past month.

The water that had filled the room suddenly began to drain as Yoongi stood up and smiled down at the boys before walking through the door to the dorm, to their home, “I’m going nowhere.” The door that had confined him for so long he had forgotten what it was like to breathe without feeling constricted swung open, and as the boys tackled him into another hug, Yoongi let himself cry.

They were there for him. They loved him and he was home.

Finally, he was home.

If you enjoyed this, please do not hesitate to like, reblog and comment~

And tell me your thoughts in the comments/ask box <3

For my drabbles: click here

[veneataur]

Fandom: BBC’s The Musketeers

Day 19 of 24

Title: Stay with me (part 2)

A/N: Here’s the second part of this story from a couple days ago. There is some discussion of a dying child in here, just as a quick warning to anyone reading.

Aramis works to pull his breathing under control as well as his rising panic. The building is dark and far too silent. For increasing seconds at a time, with the rush of familiar cold air and smells the coppery blood, he feels the sand underneath him.

“No, no.” He’s angry with himself, with Athos and wonders where the hell Porthos and Treville are. They promised to never leave him. “’ave to focus… Fo…cus.” He breathes carefully and curses Athos again when his chest continues to burn. “On…to…sight..., then. Can’t see… a fucking… thing…, ‘thos.” Aramis pauses, closes his eyes, maybe passes out. When he opens his eyes again, it’s darker than before and Athos still doesn’t answer him.

“Sound,” he says with a heavy sigh. He doesn’t hear anything save for their breathing and it makes sense because in the desert he could only hear his own breathing and one of the children who lingered for far too long because Aramis didn’t, couldn’t end her suffering.

He will die out here and so will she.

He calls her name, tries to stretch a trapped arm to hold on to hers as she takes the last breaths of her life, and inwardly collapses when everything fails.

He speaks to her, rambling, weak in force and spirit, as they both wait for the end.

And then it goes darker and quiet.

He wakes to a frantic air and the feel of the ground moving beneath him. Porthos’ panicked voice is repeating something over and over and Aramis can only catch parts as he struggles to surface and piece together his haphazard senses.

“’thos. S’ay ‘ith me,” Aramis says but his ears don’t hear him. It’s just Porthos still. He tries to reach out, make some movement, repeat his plea but he’s stuck, still pinned. Something soft and warm against him.

And then he’s gone again, his plea to Athos still on his silent lips.

“No, no, ‘Mis. You’ve got to stop moving. You have to stay still.” He vaguely registers the voice as Porthos’ but nothing more. Is he moving? He’s stuck and he’s tired of being stuck, pinned. His arms don’t want to move and his chest has a weight sitting on it, constricting his efforts to take a deep breath.

“Lieutenant d’Herblay, stop moving.” He knows that voice, that tone. How often had he heard in days past and it does the same that did them: make him pause because that’s a voice he respects, a tone that means the consequences will be worse if he doesn’t listen.

“Good.” It’s the same voice, Treville. “Just remember that if we’re here, we’re looking out for you. No need to fight, okay. Just squeeze my hand, Aramis, if you’re understanding.”

Aramis does, tries but it’s hard.

“Good.” Treville uses that same tone. “Now, do you think you’re awake enough to open your eyes this time?”

“’his ‘ime?” His voice is rough, scratchy but it’s not the feeling of disuse.

“Careful with the talking, ‘Mis,” Porthos says. “Your throat is pretty raw right now.”

He opens his eyes slowly, blurry figures appearing in his line of sight, standing next to each other in front of him. One, two, and a third blink draws them into some focus. He knows already that it’s Porthos and Treville but he sees their exhaustion in the dark circles; greasy, unkempt hair; wrinkled, smelly clothing.

Then he thinks. “’thos?... ‘here?... ‘ith me.” He’s moving again, working to find Athos because his voice isn’t strong enough but then his body isn’t either. He pleads with Porthos and Treville with his eyes. They put a calming hand on his arm and urge him to be still and quiet again.

“You need to be still,” Porthos says. He gently rubs a spot on Aramis’ hand. “You’re still recovering. Moving around’s going to make your injuries worse.”

“’thos,” Aramis forces out again.

“Stop. He’s right here. In the other bed. If you are careful, you can turn your head a bit to see him,” Treville explains. They stop him when he moves too quickly and talk him through moving his head. His neck is sore, head has a light pounding that he expects to grow. But there is Athos, lying still on the bed.

“’ow,” he asks.

“You in pain, Aramis? You’re on some strong painkillers, but they said they’d be weening you off to let you fully wake. I’ll go get the nurse.” Porthos is frantic in his explanation and Aramis hooks a weak finger around one of his to grab his attention.

“’ow… ‘urt?”

Porthos’ eyes widen in understanding. “Broken and bruised ribs and a bad concussion. He’s woken but not been fully alert yet.”

“’’ay… ‘ith… ‘e. ‘aid.”

“Yes, I know you kept telling him to stay with you. That’s why you can’t talk now. Your throat is raw from talking and coughing. Just rest. We have you and you’ll be fine.”

As they’re calming him, a doctor and nurse come in. He’s examined, poked and prodded gently as Porthos and Treville keep close watch. It’s uncomfortable, painful but he’s at ease because of their presence. He’s given another dose of pain medication before they leave and already he feels himself drifting.

More still, he feels Porthos and Treville near. They’ll make sure that Athos stays there. They’ll keep him safe.