He woke up slowly. It felt like swimming through a fog, his limbs heavy, and every part of him aching, but finally he managed to reach the surface and blink open his eyes, confused for a moment why it was so dark, before he registered the soft fabric pressing against his head. That’s right, he’d flopped face down onto the couch. Evidently, he’d been so out of it he hadn’t shifted at all in his sleep, which was… unusual.
Because usually his “sleep” wasn’t all that restful to begin with.
Then he registered the soft humming coming from the kitchen, and the tension he wasn’t even aware of having leaked out of his shoulders, his breath coming easier at the simple sound that broadcast Patton’s presence to the ship. He managed to sit up, yawning and stretching until his shoulders popped, feeling immensely better than he had been as he stood, shuffling his way into the kitchen, keeping a blanket wrapped around his shoulders. He tried to talk, but his voice came out as a dry croak. Still, that got Patton’s attention, who spun around, face lighting up, before creasing with worry.
“Kiddo? You ok?” He swallowed hard, clearing his throat, not managing to speak, instead instantly bursting into tears, Patton’s eyes going wide. “Virgil!” Patton chirped in alarm, pulling him into a seat at the table, hopping onto the table himself, to be at Virgil’s eye level, not that he could currently meet his eyes. Virgil’s arms were resting on the table, his head buried against them, shoulders shaking from the force of his sobs. He didn’t know what to do, besides run his little paws through Virgil’s hair, cooing softly.
“S-orry… I don’t kn-ow why… I’m f-f-fine….” Virgil gasped out, not even crying anymore, just fighting for air.
“you’re not fine. We all know you’re not fine, Virgil. It’s ok to be not ok.” He shakes his head, finally emerging from his arms, Patton stifling a trill of alarm at how dark and… and empty, Virgil’s eyes look. The same look Virgil had given him the first time the smugglers had returned him to the cell, right before he passed out, and it scared him. “please, Virgil. Just… whatever it is, let us help you.” Patton pleaded, reaching out slowly, wiping away his tears, pressing his fluffy little forehead against Virgil’s, nuzzling against him.
“Logan says you’re not eating enough.” He started gently. “Is that right?” Hesitantly, Virgil nodded.
“yeah.” He whispers.
“ok. Why is that, kiddo?”
“I don’t… I don’t want to waste your food, your supplies. I already take up so much space and I don’t… deserve it. I don’t do anything to deserve it. T-to deserve this. I’m used to n-not eating, anyways.”
“And you aren’t sleeping enough?”
“I can’t. I… I can’t, I close my eyes, and I’m right back there, I’m there and it’s so real, and I can’t stop myself, and I h-hurt-“ He breaks off, shaking. “I hurt you. And if it’s a night you’re not w-with me, I can’t r-rest until I see you, because I know it isn’t but it feels so real, I h-have to make sure it isn’t r-real.”
“How much are you supposed to sleep and eat, in a day, Virg?” Patton asked softly, and he drew away, running his hands through his hair with a heavy sigh, leaning back and staring up at the ceiling.
“Supposed to get at least eight hours of sleep a night. And… eating probably four times what I am now. But I’m usually too anxious to eat, anyway. It just… just comes back up.” Patton made a small clicking noise, that meant worry, and Virgil flinched. “I’m sorry.” Patton shook his head, resting a hand on Virgil's arm.
“there’s nothing to be sorry for. I wish you’d told us sooner, before it got this bad, but I understand why you didn’t. I know how hard it is, to trust us with information about yourself. I know you worry, what we could do with it, do to you. And none of us fault you for it, honey.” Virgil looked to be on the edge of tears again, as he looked back down at Patton before looking away once more.
“I want to. I… just… I’m scared, Patton.” Patton's heart broke a little at how small Virgil sounded, his voice wavering.
“I know, Virg-"
“no, I… I'm scared because I… I still keep thinking… I… what if this isn’t real? It’s all… all just part of a new game, their last hoorah before…” He took a deep breath, shaking his head. “I know it doesn’t make sense, but I can’t stop… it’s just… like this is a dream and when I wake up, it’ll be on the table, or-.” He whispered, cutting himself off, though clearly what hadn’t been said was the worst of the possibilities, based on his face. Patton ruffled his feathers. He didn’t know what to say, what to do, how to help Virgil, and he didn’t have time, right now, to focus on whatever the human wasn’t telling him.
“I’m scared too, sometimes. It’s… it’s easier for me, cause I’ve known Logan and Roman so long, and I have you, too. I feel safe, with all of you around. But… but sometimes I can still feel their hands on my feathers, I can hear them, I need the light on, to sleep, otherwise I panic and forget where I am.”
“patton… why didn’t you say?”
“Because you have enough on your shoulders, and I have Logan and Roman to help carry the burden on my mine. You don’t need to go through this alone, Virgil. We all will help. We all want to. You just have to start letting us. Start… talking, to us, and stop trying to pretend that everything is ok, because it isn’t. Nothing is, nothing about what happened to you, or me, is ok. Do you understand that, Virgil?” Virgil's breath hitched, and his gaze stared firmly at the floor, refusing to answer. “virgil. You didn't deserve it. You know that, right?” He tried again, voice a squeak as Virgil again refused to look at him.
“I must have. I… why me, then? If I didn’t deserve it then…” Patton practically vibrated with indignant rage, stomping his foot in frustration, making Virgil jerk, startled eyes finally meeting his.
“You will not bad talk yourself on this ship, mister! You are kind and compassionate and wonderful! And sometimes the universe is just… just… fucked!” Virgil's eyes widened at Patton swearing, using an earth curse word he'd muttered a couple times and had to, red faced, explain to him. “sometimes it’s just random and bad things happen to good people. And you’re a good people, Virgil. You’re one of the best people.” And Virgil was crying again, silent tears dripping down his face, and then he was folding over from the force of them, huddled into a ball on the chair, breaking again for an entirely different reason, because for the first time he was letting himself start to believe that what had happened wasn’t entirely his fault, his tears only growing as Patton stayed, though he couldn’t shake the shame and disgust at himself that coiled in his gut, because if Patton knew, if they knew what he’d had to do to survive, there was no way they would ever trust him. And he knew, he was going to have to tell them, or the guilt would eat him alive.
…
Logan was surprised, to hear voices coming from the kitchen. It was nearing the night cycle, and he’d realized he hadn’t eaten much of anything, all day, any kind of meal schedule having fallen apart with the recent ocurrances, and he hadn’t heard Roman come out of his room, yet.
He stopped when he rounded the corner, freezing for a moment, before tucking his arms carefully behind him, having promised Virgil he would only mind weave in his presence if given permission, as it unsettled him to have information about himself recorded.
Because that was, Virgil, sitting at the kitchen island, a softly steaming mug held lightly between his hands, a slight upturn to his lips as Patton chattered about everything and nothing in particular, just filling the air with words and chirps, though Virgil seemed to be following easily, having no trouble understanding the occasional words in Patton’s native tongue. He noticed, too, a plate set aside, that looked to have the remains of toast with jam and a more than half empty bowl of porridge, which is more than Virgil usually ate at a meal, in an entire day, sometimes. Especially important since he was already weakened from his illness and still very much recovering. Then he gently cleared his throat, making his presence known, not missing how Virgil flinched, jerking to look his way, relaxing mostly, not completely, upon realizing who it was.
“Virgil. It is a relief to see you up and about. I’m also glad to see Patton coaxed you into eating a decent amount.” Virgil’s cheeks reddened slightly at that, a human sign of embarrassment, and internally, Logan winced. He hadn’t meant to offend, and he couldn’t afford to lose progress.
“yeah. He’s, um, going to help. Try and get me on a normal diet, I guess. You were right, about the not eating enough or getting enough nutrient, thing. So.” Virgil shrugged, face still red, though he didn’t seem upset, and Logan relaxed.
“That is good. If you don’t mind, I would like to ask you about your normal diet back on earth, so I know better what nutrients, exactly, you’ve been lacking and the best way to go about reintroducing you to stable meals. We will have to go slowly, too much food or too much richness will only make you sick, at first.” Virgil nodded.
“I know. We learned a little about it, health and nutrition and stuff, in school. The food pyramid and all that.” Logan’s brow creased and he tilted his head, thinking.
“I am unclear what stacking food into a tower has to do with proper calorie intake.” Virgil huffed, amusement crinkling his eyes, and Logan relaxed further, chancing a small smile back. The action still felt unnatural, like he was threatening a friend, but Virgil’s own upturn of the lips banished that thought quickly.
“The… the sleep, thing, might be a problem, though. I… I don’t know how to fix that.” Virgil mumbled.
“Well, we can start with what the problem is.”
“Nightmares. Vivid ones.” Patton answered for Virgil, who had paled slightly at the mere mention of ‘problem’.
“I see. Nightmares, which are the result of your years of trauma and abuse. Do they center on any particular thing?” Virgil paled further, and Logan could see his breath coming in slightly faster gasps. “You do not need to answer, Virgil. I understand it is difficult.” Virgil took a few deep breaths in and out, though his hands gripped the edge of the table hard.
“It’s ok. I just…” Virgil glanced at Patton, then away, fast enough he almost missed it, and his brow furrowed further. Patton was the one Virgil was understandably the most at ease and trusting with, if it was something he didn’t wish to discuss in front of Patton… it must be deeply unpleasant, and something the ampen didn’t already know, or he wouldn’t be so afraid to share it.
“Patton. Can you check on Roman? He could use your emotional intelligence right now.” Patton looked at him in confusion at the abrupt change of topic, before looking back to Virgil, who sighed, smiling softly.
“It’s ok. Go see him.” Patton hesitated, but finally relented, giving Virgil a quick hug before letting him set him on the floor, stopping beside Logan.
“be careful with him. I just started getting through, Lo.” Patton pleaded softly, and Logan nodded.
“I promise, Patton.” He waited until Patton had vanished down the hall, before turning his attention back to Virgil, noticing how he had hunched in on himself slightly, shoulders tense, as if waiting for an impending strike. Carefully, he slid into the seat opposite the human, examining him with worry, though he looked better than he had.
“Virgil? What is it?” He asked softly, after a few long moments of silence. Virgil took a deep, shuddering breath.
“There's… something else. That i… it wasn’t just…” he took another deep breath, and Logan hesitantly rested a hand lightly atop Virgil's, making sure he knew he could pull away. He didn’t, instead looking up at him, though his hair nearly obscured his eyes.
“it’s bad, lo… I can’t…”
“It’s ok, Virgil. Take your time.”
“I can show you. It’s… I can’t… it hurts.” Virgil whispered, and he could see his eyes glazing over, could see Virgil slipping away. He squeezed his hand lightly, trying to help center him. He only took a moment to decide, knowing whatever it was wouldn’t be pleasant, but he needed to know if he wanted to help, and he was prepared, this time, he could steel himself against it.
“Alright. Show me.” He closed his eyes, taking a deep breath in and out, initiating the Vidi.
He looks up at the sound of quiet footsteps coming down the ramp, only half surprised to see Virgil, who wraps a blanket around his shoulders, before sitting down beside him with his own, head deep in his hood, dark eyes shining as he looks up at the stars.
“How is he?” Comes the soft question. Patton looks up at the stars as well, a soft breath escaping his lips.
“Lost. It must be terrifying, to go from having no choices, no power to make your own decisions, to having complete control over your life. He doesn’t know how to use that, anymore. Doesn’t know what to do with it all, what to do with himself.” Virgil huffs, arms wrapping around his knees.
“Yeah. I was… a bit like that. When I first joined up with you. It seems silly, now, that I was ever scared of you, Pat, but I was. I was terrified, what would happen, when you found me.”
…
He hadn’t been invited on board. Patton and Logan hadn’t even known he was on board. They’d had a brief stopover, to refuel, on his home planet, spent barely twenty minutes there, total, at the small waystation, not many people enjoyed spending time near the presence of wraiths.
Virgil himself included.
He doesn’t know, still doesn’t know, how he found the courage to sneak aboard, when no one was looking, it wasn’t all that hard, he just slipped into the shadows and slipped into the hold, trying desperately to contain his fear so it wouldn’t spiral out and affect anyone else, so it wouldn’t seep through to them, so they wouldn’t notice anything amiss.
He hated the planet, after all. Hated the cold cruelty of the place, the eerie darkness, the icy fear always trickling down his spine. They fed off negativity, off fear, and there was no one easier to scare and frighten and torment than him. No one to protect him, from the others. No one to stay for. He saw a way out, and he took it, intending to simply slip off at the next stop, whatever that was, and find a way for himself, maybe beg, do simple chores for pay, do something. He hadn’t intended to be found.
He’d been hiding out for maybe a week, in the storage hold. He was cold and hungry and tired, huddled in the corner, behind some crates, curled around himself, shaking. He’d felt fuzzy and strange, and realized that was probably due to the whole not eating thing, but he couldn’t find the bravery to go scope out, to scrounge for food, he just had to hope they’d set down soon.
An arm on his shoulder had woken him. He’d screamed, hoarse and cracked, woken out of his light, fitful sleep, warm hands on him, and he was afraid, waiting to be thrown into a nightmare, into whatever hell world they’d chosen this time, curling tighter, arms coming up to cover his head in the meager defense he could provide for himself.
“please… please don’t… please… s-sorry, s-sorry…”
“Hey, hey, hey. It’s ok, I’m not gonna hurt you, kiddo. You’re burning up, when was the last time you ate anything?” He’d shrugged, scared out of his mind, breath speeding, because he was caught, he’d been caught, and what were they going to do with him?
“dunno. L-last st-op. Imma… wraith.” He mumbled, waiting for the fear, the derision, the pain.
“Oh, baby. Can we get you upstairs?”
“What… what’re y-ou gonna do, w-ith m-me?”
“Get some food in you, to start, and some water. Then get you all cozy on the couch, with plenty of blankets and pillows, something to bring down that fever of yours.”
“Y-you’re not m-m-mad?”
“Of course not. You were scared enough to stow away, to leave your own planet behind and hide out in a ship you had no idea how friendly or cruel the occupants of it were. I think that speaks for itself, kiddo. I’m not mad. I just wanna help, ok?” Patton had asked, and he’d hesitated for a long moment, before nodding.
“O-ok.” He’d realized his teeth were chattering, flinching as he felt arms around him, lifting him gently, as he passed out.
It had taken him a long, long time, to open up to any of them, to say anything without prompting, really, he was quiet and meek and half shadows, most of the time, unable to keep his form physical with the endless fear creeping through him. No one was allowed to touch him. Not even Patton. Any sudden movement sent him tearing from the room, and he spent most of his own time locked in his own, still convinced that they would send him back, jettison him off, kick him off at the next planet and never look back.
It was Logan, oddly enough, that wore him down. He always said what he thought, always pointed out the obvious, always answers with the truth, no matter how hurtful or blunt it is. That pure… obliviousness… to the concept of deception, was what finally convinced him, that they truly did want to help, wanted to let him have his space, wanted to just… be there.
He’d never had kindness before. He didn’t understand, kindness. He didn’t understand why they were being so nice to him, when he hadn’t done anything besides flinch and hide and recoil from their touches, their gazes, their attentions.
That’s what had led to him sitting on the middle of his bed, huddled in his blankets, shaking as he sobbed, not looking up at the soft knock on his door, letting out something that might have been a strangled ‘come in’. For once, he didn’t flinch away, as Patton entered the room, as he sat down on the very edge of the bed, looking at him with soft concern and warm care, and he just… broke. He fell into Patton’s arms and just broke.
…
He comes out of his own thoughts at Patton slipping a hand into his, and he smiles wryly up at the moon, shaking his head.
“sorry. Just…” He trails off with a sigh, closing his eyes for a long moment, trying to steady himself.
“I know, Vee. They’ve come so far, already. And you… I’m so proud of you, Virgil. I really, really am.” He looks away, face red, hiding the small smile in the blanket around his head, smile growing as Patton rests his head on his shoulder, nuzzling against him.
“Pat, you’re making it really hard for me to nostalgically mope.” He mutters, Patton laughing softly against him.
“Good.” Patton says, wings uncurling and stretching out behind him as he yawns.
“Should you head in, Pat?” He asks, amusement coloring his tone, as Patton shakes his head.
“Roman wanted to stay outside. I wanna let him get as much fresh air as possible. aThey’ve been… confined, for too long, Virg. They’ve been through so much, I just wanna let him have whatever he needs.” Virgil smiles fondly, laying his blanket on the ground behind Patton.
“Alright. Lay down.” He orders, gently pushing Patton’s shoulder, who goes over with little resistence, a little giggle, stretching one wing out, resting Roman atop it, curling his other wing over him as he lays down, holding him close, Roman’s hands gently curling into his feathers, nuzzling against them, snuggling into the softness. He smiles as Virgil tucks the other blanket tight around them, before leaning down and kissing the top of his head softly.
“I’ll keep watch, Pat. Sweet dreams.” In the blink of an eye, Virgil vanishes into the shadows, though Patton knows he hasn’t gone far.
“G’night, Virg. Love you.” He mumbles, already slipping asleep as the cozy warmth seeps into his bones.
…
He wakes up screaming. For the first time in a little over three years, he wakes up screaming, immediately slapping a hand over his mouth, swallowing down the sound, choking on it, praying no one else has heard him, he doesn’t want to bother them, and he buries his head in his hands, trying to get a grip, because it wasn’t real, he knows it wasn’t real.
The white hospital bed. Firm, cold shackles against his upper arms and wrists, holding them tight to the armrests of the chair. An IV in his arm, pumping him full of vitamins and minerals and a mild sedative, something to keep him still against the sharp stings of pain as they carefully peel off every scale. He watches in quiet, morbid, fascination, as his arms turn from gold to crimson, as he starts to shiver, even the heating light they have on above him not enough to keep him warm, against the blood loss.
It’s still another hour before he’s hazing in and out of awareness, another half hour before they call a stop, binding his injuries with curt, steady motions, guiding him back to his small room, nothing more than white walls, floors, ceiling, a hard bed, a warm blanket, it must be night, because the uv rays are off, as they emotionlessly deposit him on the bed, as always, locking the door behind them without a word.
Tomorrow they’ll take more scales, until he doesn’t have any left. He'll be sick and shaking and unable to keep any food down, they'll hook him to more IVs to keep him alive, until his scales start to regrow and just when he’s starting to feel alright again, they'll pluck him clean once more.
That’s his life. That’s all it’ll ever be. A sickly, half conscious life, hazed over with fever and pain, dying slowly from lack of contact, lack of socialization, lack of touch.
…
A knock on his door has him jolting, a strange foreboding in his chest, a tightness to his lungs, and he hears someone speaking, but they sound a million miles away, and he’s petrified, he can’t seem to move a single muscle, he’s frozen in place, though his mind is screaming at him, to do something, anything, he can’t, as his vision swims, he can’t.
All he can hear is the chiming tone that tells him its time to get up for the day, to put on his loose, white clothing, to quietly eat his meal, to sit on the bed and wait silently for them to come retrieve him, to keep his eyes down and his hands in front of him, to make no motion until told, otherwise they’ll be forced to retaliate to protect themselves, regardless of whether he’s attacking or not.
He's never attacking. He’s too scared, too well trained, to attack, to try anything, at this point, he knows it would be useless. Even if he bit one, two of them, sent them shaking and convulsing to the ground, there would be more, and he can’t fight through them all, can’t make it out of this facility, wherever it is, doesn’t even know if they’re on a planet or drifting in space, and there’s no point to resisting. Better to be compliant and meek and do as he’s told.
Another soft knock, voice a bit louder, more concerned, gives him enough, shocks his mind, his system enough to break out of his stupor, to move, to stumble, stagger, trip over his own feet through a tilted, spinning world speckled with dark spots, to make it to the door, fumbling with the locks before finally managing to undo them, knowing that voice will somehow make this better, will somehow keep all of that from happening, will somehow get him out of here, where there’s no space and air and light and he can’t breathe or see or speak.
The door opens and he falls, though warm arms catch him, the voice inhales sharply, speaking, though he still can’t hear, he should be able to hear him, he can get the sense of what he’s saying, but not the words, and dimly he registers the arms moving, scooping him up, off the ground, and he clings to the voice, as they carry him somewhere else, somewhere open, more space, before sitting down, though not letting go.
He registers counting, a slow, steady rhtym, one he knows, one he uses, one he tries to emulate now, in fits and starts, feeling a hand softly running up and down his arm, shivering as it touches his scales, phantom pain making him flinch, and the movement stops.
“N-no… D-d-don’t…” He can’t choke out more than that, but they seem to understand, resuming their gentle up and down motion, especially light and gentle over his scales, slowly soothing him, because no one besides his crew, his friends, his family, are allowed to touch them, and only they have ever been this gentle with him, and as his breathing finally starts to even, his heart rate starts to beat normally, copying the rhythm it can feel from the warm body pressed against his, his vision starts to clear, and he slumps forwards, the tension leaking out of him as he presses his head into Logan’s chest, trembling as he takes a deep, shuddering breath.
“Janus?” Comes the soft, quiet question, and he nods, even that motion takes too much effort, too much energy, but he summons his words anyway.
“yes. ‘M here.” He mumbles, feeling Logan’s own relieved breath, his arms wrapping securely around his back, holding him close, as he realizes tears are slipping down his cheeks, unbidden. “sorry. Didn’t… didn’t mean to wake you.” Logan shushes him, slowly rocking him back and forth.
“No. I’m sorry. I should have realized, today’s events would be triggering. One of us should have checked up on you, after you settled Remus.” He shivers, folding tighter against Logan, exhaustion from the fading adrenaline and panic attack shattering his normal walls.
“If he hadn’t been there… Lo, if he hadn’t-“ He breaks off, choking on his words, on his fear. “I can’t do it again. I c-can’t… I didn’t know, then, but I do, now, and I c-can’t-“
“Shh, shh, shh, I know, I know, Janus. But you don’t have to. You will never, never have to go through that again. You’re safe, you’re safe, Janus, and we, I, will never let that happen to you again. I promise.” Logan murmurs, gently running his thumb in circles against Janus’s cheek, the other wrapped around his waist to keep him steady. “I promise. I’m not letting go, alright? Get some rest. I’ll keep anything from harming you, while you sleep, I promise.”
“N-not… Y-you and P-patton and Vi-rgil, c-can’t let them… can’t h-ave y-y-you-“ He can feel Janus already starting to drift, unable to hold on to awareness, after such a strong attack, plus his already elevated exhaustion and worry and stress, his words making his heart ache, because despite everything, Janus was focused on them, worried about them, getting taken, keeping them safe.
“We’re all ok, Janus. No one is going anywhere. No one is leaving. No one is going to hurt them. I promise.” He murmurs, relaxing himself as he feels Janus’s breath even into deep, long, inhales and exhales, going fully limp against him, smiling down at the sleeping Naga, at the trust and faith his friend has in him, to not need locked doors to keep him safe, when Logan is right there, watching over him.
He forgets, sometimes, where Janus has come from. How long, he spent in that endlessly cruel monotonous captivity.
He came so far, so fast, and even now, he masks his pain so well, hides behind that wicked smirk and smooth surety, and its so easy, to forget when they first got to him nearly eight years ago he barely spoke a single word for three months, nearly convincing all of them he was mute. It took him longer still, to understand choices, they had to introduce them slowly, starting with ‘would you prefer A or B' type questions before moving to open ended ones.
It's easy to forget, just how brave he is, acting as their inside man when necessary, posing as a buyer to get onto smuggler's ships, playing the part he hates more than anything, no doubt terrified beneath the surface, because if anything went wrong, in most cases, they wouldn’t be able to get to him in time. But he never backs down, never says no, and Logan knows that Janus would rather perish than fail to free whomever they held trapped, and it scares him, his reckless, fast paced bravery, scares him. Because he is just as terrified of losing Janus as he clearly is of losing them. It makes him hold on a little tighter, continuing to rub Janus’s back, to murmur softly to him, keeping him company through the rest of the night.
Remus’s breath catches and he’s backing up, backed into a wall, backed into a corner. He can feel his breath getting caught in his throat, his heart hammering against his ribs, and it’s dark, too dark, and suddenly he’s back, back in the cell, back in the black, except it’s smaller, it’s so much smaller, iron bands wrapped around his arms and legs, climbing up him until he can’t even wiggle his fingers, until they cover his mouth, then his nose, and he can’t breathe, he’s suffocating, they’re suffocating him, and he wants to scream, but he can’t, he can’t, and he can hear Him, whispering, taunting, just like he always does, it echoes in his ears along with his silent scream until they’re ringing and there’s still no air-
Contact. He flinches, lets out a garbled shout that comes out as more of a strained whimper. The touch quickly moves to withdraw, but instinctively his hand shoots out, latching onto the contact like it’s the only thing left in reality, and he’s drowning, drowning in his own mind, his own thoughts, his own memories
“remus.” His name finally makes it through the ringing in his ears and his head shoots up, wild eyes locking onto whoever’s face, Logan’s face, and he squeezes his eyes shut for a moment, because it’s not Him, it’s not Him, it’s not Him! “can you nod, if you can hear me?” Logan’s voice is soft, softer than he’s heard it before, and there’s emotion in it too, instead of the clinical cold tone that sets his teeth grating. Slowly, with effort, he manages a nod. “that’s good. You need to breathe, ok? Can you breathe in, 1,2,3,4” Logan counts, and he screws up on that, the very first part, and his heart rate rockets up a notch, because now comes the punishment, now comes the pain, now comes the hurt, as a result of his failure, of his stupidity, he can’t do this, he can’t do anything-
“it’s ok, Remus. It is perfectly fine. Let’s try again, ok? Just do whatever you can. No one is going to hurt you. You’re doing fine.” Logan, again, soft and… and worried? He doesn’t know, but he doesn’t sound angry, as he starts counting again, and Remus tries, in fits and starts and gasps, he tries, until finally, he can breathe again, and he collapses into a ball on the floor, gasping sobs flooding out of him in bitter waves as his head clears from the thoughts, from the memories, from the fears, from the pure intensity of his emotion, one that doesn’t even have a name, just a mix of sorrow and loss and fear and deep, keening pain.
He realizes Logan is still there, has dropped to the floor with him, and he feels guilty at pulling him down too, realizing he’s still gripping his arm, probably hard enough it hurts, and between breaths he gasps out an apology.
“It’s perfectly fine, Remus. You can hold on as long and as tight as you need. Do you want me to get someone else? I… know you are not fond of me.” He shakes his head, because he can’t, he can’t be left alone like this, he can’t force himself to let go, or he’ll drown again, and he’s afraid if he plummets again he will hit the ground and smash into a million pieces.
“okay. Did you have a nightmare?” Logan asks softly, and he laughs, because the last decade has been a waking nightmare, half of Roman’s entire life has been a waking nightmare, and he apparently cannot function unless he’s being tortured, because he’s fallen apart more since he’s been rescued than the entire time he was held captive!
“that’s only natural, Remus. While under such extreme duress you didn’t have time to question or think, every moment was spent on survival. Your mind is trying to process ten years of trauma all at once. It’s not easy, it’s not something your brain is made to do, it shouldn’t be something you have to experience in the first place. It is only natural that now that your body has realized it doesn’t need to expend all it’s energy on fighting, that it’s trying to understand and comprehend everything you’ve been through.” He uncurls slightly, looking up at Logan, face so different from the impassive mask he is used to, softened around the eyes and mouth, a slight frown on his lips, sympathy and worry and pain in his clouded silver eyes.
“it just got so loud. I’ve… I’ve always been shit, at dealing with it, I always get nightmares, I always… I hate sleeping, I can’t…” He’s on the edge of losing it again, and he forces himself to breathe, forces himself to take deep breaths, but he’s lost what he’s saying. He feels Logan gently squeeze his arm back, and knows he understands what he’s trying to say, at least.
“it’s ok to be angry. It’s okay to be furious. It’s ok to want to hurt the people who did this to you, it’s ok to want to destroy them, it’s ok to want your life back, it’s ok to scream and shout and punch things because it isn’t fair. Because it isn’t. It’s ok to grieve, Remus. However that looks for you, it’s ok.” Logan near whispers, and he’s silenced for a moment at the ferocity in his voice, at the venom when he spoke of the captors, and then he breaks again, surprising Logan as he falls against him, his tears reduced to sniffles now.
“I want them back. I want my parents back, I want them to know we’re safe, I want them to know what happened, I want them to have closure, they probably think we got dragged off by cougar or something, they probably think we’re dead. I want Roman to have gone to middle school, to have gotten to high school, to have tried out for every school play, because he’s such a fucking good singer and actor, I want to have helped him run lines and gone to every performance and I would have beat up anyone who made fun of him for being into theater. I want him to have gone to college or gotten an audition and ended up on broadway, and I would have been in the front row screaming, cheering him on, and so would our parents. I want to have gone to high school, have gone to college, have become an artist, an animator, done something with my life other than be a fucking lab rat, and I know it’s not fair, and I know I can’t have any of that, but I’m so damn angry because the two of us can’t stop blaming ourselves for shit that they did to us!” He yells, shaking with exhaustion, spent and empty yet again, angry tears dripping down his face. “and I hate them. Because I want to hurt them, I want to tear them apart, I want to watch them scream and writhe and beg for mercy before I kill them with my bare hands. I’m just… I’m just like them. They made me their monster and I hate myself for it.”
“No. You’re not a monster for wanting that, Remus. You aren't Them, for wanting that. You have a reason to hurt them, a damn good one, too. It’s not wrong to want revenge, though taken too far it can be damaging. They are the monsters. They had no reason to hurt you, yet they did, for their own selfish gain. That’s what makes them monsters.” Logan answers, voice shaking, but surprisingly fierce, and Remus feels him hugging him, firm and protective. “it took me a long time to learn, I still am learning, that it is ok to feel negative emotions, necessary, or you will never be able to let go of it all and move forwards. It hurts and it’s terrifying, but it gets better.”
“does it?” he asks softly, he’s so tired and broken and so far beyond caring.
“Yes. There's not a single one of us on this ship that hasn’t gone through some kind of trauma, and I swear it gets better. Not fast. Not easily. But it does.”
“What? You… but you’re so…” Remus gestured to all of Logan as he pulls back, eyes wide, and Logan lets out a humorless laugh.
“Yes, well, appearances aren’t always what they seem, are they? We each have a reason we got into the rescue and rehabilitation business. We've all lost something to the trade.” He sits silent for a moment, considering Logan, head tilted as he tries to make sense of him.
“while… while we are speaking, I would like your input on something.” Logan pauses, and Remus nods for him to continue, a bit wary. “I know you dislike me, for obvious reasons, but I do not wish you to be afraid of me. I… is there anything I can do differently, anything I can do to make you more comfortable in my presence, I… anything you need, just ask it.”
“oh.” He hadn’t been expecting that. He doesn’t know how to answer. He feels more at ease with Logan now, after he had talked him down from his panic, had helped so much, but he’s afraid that in the light of day, he won’t be able to help himself, help the fear, help the instinctual panic at the way he speaks, moves, acts. “it’s… it’s not you. You’re… fine.” He mumbles, fiddling with his sleeve. “you… I mean, I get it. You were protecting him, and I get that. I… wasn’t at my most lucid. I don’t mean what I said, anymore. I know you weren’t… weren’t trying to hurt me. Even if I can’t quite forgive you for it yet, I’m not… mad… about it anymore.”
“then what is it, Remus? You don’t have to tell me, you don’t need to, I just… I want to be able to help.” Logan asks, reaching out, and he doesn’t pull away, as Logan slowly rests a hand atop his.
“it’s not even to do with you, really. It’s… Him. The Scientist.” He says, nearly whispers, irrationally afraid that saying the name will summon him. “he… he moved, like you do. Had the same, I don’t know, the same sound to him that you usually do. But you don’t sound like that now. You don’t… you don’t make me think of Him now.” He replies, staring at the ground, aware of Logan’s gentle exhale, close to a sigh.
“He was probably the same race as me. Straevion. We are… curious, intellectual. We learn things very fast and very thoroughly. Most of us become scientists or engineers or mathematicians. We love exploring, discovering, studying. And many of us are ethical, interacting and learning from different species we encounter, respecting and studying the cultures, the language, the worlds. We thrive on learning, really. But there are many who see themselves as above, as better than, because we are more technologically advanced than many worlds, therefore those worlds are lesser, those peoples lesser. They see other races as not really other peoples at all, just animals. It’s wrong, and horrendous, and despicable, and I hate that the Council that rules our world does nothing to stop it. That’s why I do this, Remus. Because somebody has to stop it. I know that it’s a reflex. That it is ingrained that my general appearance equals pain, but I will never knowingly hurt you. And if I accidentally hurt you, tell me immediately so I can rectify the situation and avoid causing harm in the future. I swear it.” Logan’s voice is serious and heated, and passionate, and a smile pulls at the corners of Remus’s lips, because Logan is so much different than Him. He just has to try and remember that, try and push past his first instinct to run.
“ok.” He whispers, meeting Logan’s eyes for a moment, before looking away, though it was long enough to see the slight smile on his own face, enough to see Logan once again understood without him having to say all the words what he meant. “I, um. I came out here for some water, before I, y’know, broke down. I’m… sorry. For unloading all that. On you.” He mumbles, face going a bit red.
“Oh, of course. You’re perfectly fine, Remus, I am happy to listen and help talk you through your thoughts, if that is something that helps.” Logan replies, getting to his feet, reaching out a hand to help him up. Remus hesitates for a moment before taking it, a bit wobbly on his feet, as he settles on one of the stools at the kitchen island, realizing the light has gotten brighter. It must be early morning. No wonder he was so tired, he hadn’t slept at all, and he’d had an emotional breakdown. He runs a hand through his already ruffled hair, letting out a soft groan.
Logan sets a glass of water on the counter before him, and he slowly sips at it, despite his desire to chug it. Still, he empties it quickly, and Logan quietly refills it for him. He rests his head on his arms atop the counter, letting out another long sigh, tiredness filling every inch of his bones, but his mind is still whirring a thousand miles a minute, the reason he couldn’t sleep in the first place, he was never able to silence his mind.
“You have insomnia.” Logan says, though it has the hint of a question. He nods, enjoying the feel of the cool counter against his forehead. The luxury of having space is incredible.
“where are we going?” he asks, suddenly, curious, his mind wandering and trying to focus on anything other than the thoughts in the dark spaces.
“Pardon?”
“I mean, we’re on a spaceship, yeah? You can’t just be drifting pointlessly.” He gasps, shooting upwards. “Is there a window? Like, can you see out, into the stars and stuff? Galaxies and planets and stars, oh my!” he giggles slightly to himself, realizing he’s losing it a little, loopyness setting in a bit. Logan just chuckles, raising an eyebrow.
“There is. We have a star map, where we chart our courses. The room also doubles somewhat as an observatory, with rounded, slightly tinted windows, so the light of passing suns and stars don’t damage anyone’s eyes. Virgil still can’t tolerate the brightness, his kind is especially sensitive to light. As for a course, we are currently heading towards a small, mostly plains biome planet known as Drakkia. We intend to stock up on supplies, as well as gather resources and information. Also some new clothes for the two of you, as well as things to decorate your rooms, if you like. If… you intend on staying, anyways.” His eyes are wide as he stares through Logan, imagination running wild, because the thought of stepping off a ship, feeling actual, solid land beneath his feet, feeling a sun on his skin, even though it’s not his sun, still… still.
“Remus?” He realizes he’s crying again, and he shakes his head, snapping back to reality, smile bittersweet.
“it’s been ten years since I stepped foot on a planet. Our whole world was the cell, the lab, and the testing rooms.” He says softly, just barely catching the stricken look on Logan’s face, the flash of anger that vanishes quickly as he takes a deep breath.
“well. You are no longer confined anymore. We will arrive in approximately two days. That being said, I can show you the observatory later. I am the chief navigator, if you are interested in how the ship itself flies and works.” He perks up again at that, excited.
“I loved building things. I even made a few robots, before. Always got in trouble for taking things apart to figure out how they worked. Wouldn’t’ve been a problem, cept I could never put it back together right. Started a loooot of fires.” Logan chuckles again, shaking his head.
“Do your best not to light anything on fire while onboard, please.” Remus snorts, head thumping back down against the counter, giving a thumbs up.
“Lo, did you start the coffee already? Oh. Hi.” Virgil, sounding a bit tired himself, and he gave a small wave without removing his head from the counter.
“I did not.” Wait.
“Coffee?! You have coffee!? I was gonna fall asleep on the stool, and there’s caffeine here!?” He shrieks, glancing between the two slightly taken aback aliens with wide, excited eyes.
“Um. Yup. No one else aboard can really handle it, it’s a little like poison to them, but I’m less physical, of a being so it doesn’t do much. I take it you want some?” Virgil asks, clearly holding back a snicker.
“I was hoping you would get some actual sleep instead of choosing to stay awake via drugs that would literally make my heart explode.” Logan replies, looking sternly at them both. Earlier, that look would have set his heart racing, his pulse panicking, but now, that fear is easy to push through with a scoff.
“What kind of a heathen are you? Coffee is the drink of the gods. It’s barely a drug, have you ever had Meth? Now that is a drug that will get you buzzed. Heroin isn’t so bad, though, it mostly just makes you feel good and sleepy. Must be why they didn’t use it as often. Acid though,” he shivers at the thought, “that just is wild. I always had a bad time with that one.” He looks up, and realizes Logan’s face has darkened again, and Virgil is looking at him with mild concern and something soft, before he turns away, and pulls out the cups without commenting.
“Remus… “ Logan starts, but sighs, trailing off and shaking his head. He’s about to say something else, when he hears a scream from down the hall and his head whips around.
Bit of a lighter chapter, this time, but the next one is gonna be a bit rough. I’m real low on motivation right now, so long term projects like this one are just hard to write at the moment. It’s gonna be slow, folks! One shots are easier for my brain, so expect those while I procrastinate.
...
He jolts awake, shaking off the tail end of a nightmare, heart racing as he tries to place where he is, eyes locking on the bed, on the form of Roman sleeping peacefully, and his chest knots tighter.
“hey kiddo.” He tenses a bit at the voice, eyes shooting up to Feathers', flinching back a bit. “it's ok, bud. Can you drink something for me?” his throat feels like it’s closing up, but he nods, letting Feathers hand him a cup. He doesn’t know what's in it, why he's still here, but he's not going back on his deal. So he steels himself and takes a swig of the liquid.
His eyes widen. It's… water. Cool, fresh, sweet, water. He closes his eyes, taking another, slower drink. God, it’s amazing, he hadn't realized he'd forgotten what actual water tastes like, but it's somehow the most beautiful thing in the world.
“easy, buddy. Too fast and you'll get sick.” He opens his eyes at hands gently taking back the mostly empty cup. He keeps his eyes down, hands in his lap.
“Can we get some food in you, kiddo?” He nods again, letting Feathers guide him off the cot he'd been asleep on, barely wincing at the touch, biting back a hiss. The whole time his eyes never leave Roman.
They settle on the other side of the room, a small table and three chairs around it, which makes him stiffen even as he slides into the seat.
“I brought breakfast. Is he awake?” His eyes fly to the door. It's Naga. “ah, he is.” Naga answers himself, a small smile flitting across his face, coming to sit at the table, sliding a bowl in front of him and Feathers, before he sits down with his own bowl.
It smells like oatmeal of some kind, slightly cinnamon and sugary, and he can see fruit mixed in. Fruit. Just the thought nearly makes his mouth water, but he holds back, waiting for permission as the others begin to eat. He doesn’t know if this is another test, he won’t fail so easily if it is.
“Go on, kiddo. Eat up!” Feathers voice is light and cheery, and that's all the invitation he needs. He doesn’t care if it's poisoned, he decides with the first mouthful, nearly crying at the taste of sweet, warm, actual food. The next bite has a pop of sweet citrus and he can’t help letting out a small sound as he savors the flavor. It seems all too soon the bowl is empty, and despite being full he wishes for more.
Full. The ever present gnawing of hunger that he had nearly gotten used to is absent, he feels almost strange, without the ever present pangs of emptiness.
“Feeling better?” he nods again, eyes locked on Roman, missing the small frown exchanged between the two beings.
“kiddo… you can go see him.” Before the words are fully out of Patton's mouth, the human has vaulted out of his chair and is perched on the edge of the bed, hand entwined with Roman's, the other stroking his hair, murmuring softly.
Janus clears his throat, and instantly, the human freezes, an expression of pure fear on his face as he pulls away from his brother, sitting on the edge of the bed, hands in his lap, eyes downcast. Patton lets out a soft breath, looking to Janus for guidance.
He doesn’t look up at the sound of wood being pulled across the floor, seeing Naga out of the corner of his eyes, settling in the chair from the table, about a foot away from him.
“My name is Janus. I’m a Naga. My home planet is Chaemera. I was taken when I was six. My venom is very potent, you see, and gold scales very rare. Individually, they’re not all that strong. But when crafted together on fabric, mimicking their natural placement on my skin they are nearly impenetrable. I’m told they also make fine jewelry. They’d pluck them. Then wait for them to grow back in, and do it again. It hurt, obviously, but I thought this was normal. Just how things go. Until the ship was boarded. And I was freed, taken in and helped to heal in all manners of the word, by Logan. He made a mistake, keeping you two apart, not telling you what was happening, but he means well. He isn’t the most socially adept. He never meant to cause you the fear and pain and stress you underwent at being kept apart. And I am swearing to you now on every scar on my body and soul, that you are safe and I will fight to the death anyone who tries to put you back into that fucking cell.”
Remus stares at Naga, Janus, with suspicion and hesitancy, searching his face for any sign of a lie, for any sign of cold cunning or icy curiosity, finding none. He can’t decide if that puts him more or less at ease. He wants so badly to believe him, but he can't. He can’t because if he believes it and he’s wrong he will do something he'll regret, something that leaves Roman all alone.
“you don’t have to do anything you don’t want to. You don’t have to say anything you don’t want to. You’ve been hurt really bad. We want to give you whatever it is you need to help start healing. It doesn’t matter if that means you ask us to leave right now and not come back, or if you want to talk. We won’t be angry, we won’t push you for anything, this is all at your pace. You control this. You can come and go as you please, we can drop you off somewhere, if that's what you want, you are free to wander the ship. Nothing here, none of us here, will hurt you.” He looks at Feathers, whose blue eyes are wide and filled with warmth and sadness and kindness, and he lets himself let out a ragged breath, pulling his knees to his chest and shaking, rocking back and forth, relieved, breathy sobs escaping his lips.
“oh, kiddo. Can… can I hug you?” Feathers asks hesitantly, and before he can second guess himself he nods. He barely flinches, his innate response to touch, but Feathers immediately pulls back at the small sign of discomfort. Which, really, convinces him more than anything else has, because none of his captors would ever have the empathy to playact a motion so innately kind.
“no… don't… please…” he heaves out, and instantly, those arms are back around him, wings wrapping him in warmth and sky blue softness, and he folds into the embrace.
“There we go, buddy. It's ok, let it all out, it's ok.” The touch burns at his skin, it feels too hot and too much and too close, the pressure around his back, where the palms rub circles feel aflame and his brain can't process this because touch equals pain, but this is so gentle it's agonizing in an entirely new way that he never wants to end.
“M-my name is Remus. His is R-Roman. I tr-tried to k-keep him safe, it w-w-was never en-ough I was n-ever enough…”
“Shh, baby no, you did so good. You did. You kept him safe. You kept him alive, you did it, you did it, baby. You’re out, you got him out. You’re so brave.” Feathers lets go as he shifts away after several long minutes, tear streaked, but lighter, so much lighter, than he can ever remember being.
“I can… I can stay, with him?”
“Yes. Of course, yes.” Janus answers, the thought of separating them again causing a flash of pain across his face.
“ok.” He whispers, voice hoarse, careful as he slips under the covers, curling tight around Roman, so he can feel every inhale and exhale, can feel the steady beat of Roman's heart. He smiles as he feels Roman let out a soft sound, melting into him.
He's exhausted. He hasn’t slept, really slept, in days. He feels the covers being gently tucked tighter around him, the warmth and heady sense of safety impossible to resist as his eyes slip shut.
“sleep well, Remus. We'll be in and out to check on you two, ok? If you need anything, just call. If you’re up for it, I'll give you a tour of the ship later, so you know your way around.” He nods, mumbles something affirmative.
“thanks, Feathers.” He mumbles, slipping into a restful, soothing sleep.
Patton turns to Janus, eyes aglow, a bursting smile on his face.
“He called me feathers! That's adorable!” Janus sighs good naturedly, steering Patton out the door.
“I heard… Feathers." He laughs at Patton's squeal, rolling his eyes but letting himself be drawn into a hug.
“Are you okay?” Patton asks, pulling away, not missing the flash of something across Janus's face before his mask of smooth confidence slips back on.
“Of course, darling. I’ve had years to move on, it’s certainly fine.” He dismisses, walking away down the corridor.
“Jan. I know it must bring back unpleasant memories-"
“It's fine, Patton. I’m certainly not reminded of my own fragile state when looking at them, I definitely don’t hate playing the spy to get on board those ships, and I’m certainly looking forwards to doing it again!” He shouts, regretting it instantly as he slaps a hand over his mouth, stumbling back against the wall.
“Janus-" Patton hates the cool mask of calm that slips back on, eyes going dim and distant, looking past him as he straightens.
“As I said. Everything is just fine.” Then Janus has slipped inside his room and locks it tight, something he only does when he's getting stressed, usually after night terrors or a triggering encounter.
“Jan? It’s alright to be not alright. I’m leaving you alone now, since you want space, but if you wanna talk ever, my door'll be open.” He hesitates a moment, as he hears a slide and thump, no doubt Janus sliding down the wall, sitting on the floor. “and I know you'll over think it, so I'll say it now, I’m not mad, or hurt, that you yelled. I love you.” He pulls away from the door, slowly, staring at it a moment longer before shaking his head, heading to the common area. Maybe Virgil would be there. He was likely wound up, too, and they could both use some company.
He didn’t hear the very faint, very whispered “I love you too" that escaped Janus's lips at the sound of his retreating footsteps.
…
He's surprised to find Logan in the common room instead, the distant look in his eyes telling Patton that he was deep in his mind, a form of meditation, almost, that helps the Straevion organize his thoughts and information. But Logan should have been sleeping, not delving through his memory.
Well, there was nothing to do but wait. Startling him out of it was more damaging and disorienting than nearly anything else, and it was a sign of great trust in his companions that Logan felt safe enough to do this in the living space, where anyone could stumble upon him, completely defenseless and vulnerable. It warmed his heart, how much faith Logan had in them all, and his feathers fluffed up before resettling. A small shuffling from the couch alerts him to Logan ‘waking’, and he smiles softly as Logan lets out a soft breath of air, silver eyes dilating and meeting his.
“hey.” He says softly, noting Logan’s ramrod straight posture, his hands steepled in his lap.
“Greetings, Patton. How may I be of assistance?” Whew, if Logan was falling back into his purely formal mode, he must really be upset. His race were generally stoic and formal, showing emotion a sign of weakness, but Logan had long since opened up, though it was still difficult sometimes for him to find the words to express what, exactly, he was feeling. But Patton is more than patient, and more than willing to help Logan express himself, lighting up at any small shred of emotion Logan shows, knowing how much trust it takes for him to share any sign of feeling, every twitch of the lips, any small snort of laughter, any tears or twinge of pain, each one was a tiny gift.
“Preen me?” He asks, instead of any of the other questions he wants to pepper Logan with, knowing he won’t answer any of them honestly if he’s this wound up. Logan hesitates, but nods minutely after a moment. Patton smiles, settling on the floor, wings stretched out behind him. After a moment, he hears Logan follow suit, and he shivers at the gentle touch on his feathers, closing his eyes and letting out a happy hum at the ever gentle, careful contact.
“If you’re out here, I’m assuming everything went adequately when he awoke?” Logan asks, voice still even, hands not hesitating in their careful straightening of his feathers, but Patton can sense the tension underneath.
“They did. He’s sleeping now, real sleep, poor thing. He trusts that he’s free, too, though that may come and go. His name is Remus. The other is Roman.” He feels Logan nod, absorbing the information. He let the silence linger, letting Logan organize his thoughts.
“I hurt them.” He says finally, his hands never stopping their steady motion, voice still dangerously flat. “I made a grave miscalculation in my ministration of care and failed to recognize the obvious signs of stress and grief acting upon Remus. I failed to see his signs of aggression as anything other than just that, when it is quite obvious that he was, in fact, in pain. At the very least I should have updated him on Roman’s condition and seen how he reacted.”
“You could have. But we both know that being kept like that for as long as he was can easily lead to madness. It was perfectly reasonable to be warry, given his behavior. He hadn’t even spoken, we didn’t even know if he was cognizant. I wouldn’t have thought he was, until his outburst at me.”
“Do you know what it was he said, before Virgil burst in?” His voice is strained now, on the edge of cracking, and Patton softens, tilting his head back to look at Logan’s face.
“I don’t, Lo. I’d hoped you’d tell me, once you were ready.” He sees that small twitch of Logan’s lips, and he smiles, drawing his wings in and turning so he’s kneeling face to face with Logan.
“he said that keeping them apart, letting him think that roman was dead, was the cruelest thing that’s ever been done to him. and the worst part is… I think he’s right.” Instantly, he’s wrapping his arms around Logan, pulling him closer with his wings, as he feels his stoic friend shaking.
“you can cry, Lo. You know I won’t tell anyone, if you do. You know it’s ok.” He murmurs.
“I don’t deserve to let myself feel, after what I did.”
“No, Logan, no. That’s not how this works. You are entitled to your feelings. The fact that you feel guilty and miserable now proves that you understand you did wrong, that you didn’t mean to hurt anyone, and I know you will do everything you can to earn their trust. To prove to Remus you deserve his. I know you have mine, Logan. Always, always, you have mine, plumana.” He replies, using a term of endearment native to his people. Logan relaxes against him, finally, his tears quiet and slow against Patton’s chest.
“Have you been up, this whole time? It’s been nearly two days since Remus passed out.”
“Couldn’t sleep. I… tried but without physical touch I found myself unable to relax enough for my mind to settle.”
“Awww, Lo, that’s so sweet!” He can feel Logan blushing, his entire skin faintly glowing with it. “now, let’s get you to bed, Plumana mine.” He whispers, brushing back Logan’s dark hair, softly kissing his forehead.
“You don’t mind staying? Just until I fall asleep.” Logan asks as Patton gets to his feet, helping pull Logan to his.
He wakes slowly, this time, like drifting upwards, through soft clouds, and he yawns, stretching, barely wincing at the pull in his right side as he blinks his eyes open, rolling over onto his side. He smiles softly, meeting Remus’s eyes, who is sitting by his bedside, eyes widening as he sees what’s in his hands.
“Rem… Rem is that… is that a book?” He whispers, almost awestruck. Remus nods, smile wide and brighter than it’s ever been.
“yeah. It’s a collection of Shakespeare plays. Patton brought it to me, a gift from Logan.” Remus frowns at that name, unconsciously rubbing up and down the spine, the feel soft and so distantly familiar beneath his fingers.
“Logan… Logan’s the one who saved me.” Remus frowns a bit harder at that, sighing.
“I am aware. He’s also the one who kept us apart for nearly three days and let me believe you had died.” His mouth drops open in a silent ‘oh’, shifting so he’s sitting up in bed.
“is that what it was? Right before they brought you in here I… panicked. I could feel something was wrong, with you.” Remus snorts, leaning back in his chair.
“Yeah, me having a complete breakdown and listing all the ways I could kill myself would probably trigger that for ya.”
“WHAT?!”
“I thought you were dead, ok!? I don’t… you’re the only thing I have, Ro. And I thought you were gone.” He softens, reaching out a hand, Remus instantly intertwining their fingers, squeezing tight.
“I’m not. You can’t get rid of me that easily, Rem. I promise.” Remus smiles, a sad, small smile, as he presses their foreheads together.
“good. You’re a fighter, Ro. You always have been. You’re so much stronger than me, brobro. So much better than me.” Remus pulls back after a long moment, setting the book aside on a small bedside stand.
“If you’re feeling up for it, we can take a little walk. Patton’s been showing me around, and I almost know where I’m going, now.” He laughs, relishing the soft grin across his brother’s face, hand pressing against his injury as he sits up, swinging his legs off the edge of the bed. For a moment, the world spins at the change of elevation.
“Ro? You good?” He nods, letting Remus sling an arm around his shoulders for support as he stands, legs a bit wobbly, but he balances out after a moment, his wound barely protesting as they head out the door and down the hall.
The ship is made of smooth, softly luminescent metal, that must mimic the day/night cycle automatically. There’s a soft electric hum in the air, a faint hint of static making the hair on his arms stand up.
“Ro. It’s ok.” He hadn’t realized his breath was speeding up, his hand fisting the fabric of his shirt, and he forces himself to take a few deep breaths in and out. Still, he feels like the corridor is too small, the walls pressing in on him, and he’s endlessly relieved when they reach the end, and the hall widens out into a large communal living space.
There’s couches, two deep sofa chairs, a few small tables, arranged around the far end of the room. Against the other wall is cabinets and cooking utensils, storage units, obviously the kitchen, an island with a few stools arranged around it. Softly glowing globes sit in alcoves along the walls, lighting the space soothingly, and he gathers from their dimness it must be early evening.
“Hey kiddo. It’s good to see you up and about!” He stumbles at the peppy voice, Remus’s arm keeping him steady. “Oh, sorry, bud, didn’t mean to startle you.” The winged man apologizes from the kitchen, where he’s cutting up some kind of fruit.
“I-it’s ok.” He mumbles, suddenly shy and nervous, in front of this new person. When was the last time he met an actual new person? What does he say? What is he supposed to say? God, the silence has gone on too long now, anyway.
“Easy there, I can feel your stress from way over here.” Remus stiffens slightly at that voice, barely repressing a hiss as he glares daggers at the person sitting in the corner of the room, barely visible from the shadows.
“Play nice, Virgil, or I will make you.” He relaxes a tad at that voice, coming down the hall behind them, as Janus sweeps into the room, giving him a small smile as he passes, draping himself across one of the chairs.
“Stop it, both of you. Or no dessert.” Both of them sigh dramatically, sinking back in their seats with muttered ‘fines’ or ‘whatevers’, and Roman finds himself smiling again, because this he knows, this bickering back and forth, this instant shutting down of debates, he understands those dynamics.
“Roman, you already know Janus,” Remus says, and Janus gives a lazy wave and a small smirk, “that pile of shadow in the corner is Virgil, he’s a Wraith.” Remus continues, Virgil giving a small two finger salute. “And that is Feathers! He’s a Seraph.”
“My actual name is Patton, but you can call me feathers if you like. Or Pat. Or any other nick name you can think of, really!” Patton chirps, wings fluffing happily.
“Oh. Okay. Um. Nice to meet you all.” He mumbles, gaze flitting from person to person, before settling on the ground in front of him. He lets Remus guide him to one of the couches, laughing as he pulls away from his brother’s fussing, wrapping him in a blanket and cushioning him with pillows until he bats his hands away.
“I’m fine, Rem, I swear. If I’m not comfy I’ll tell you!” Remus laughs as he stops, ruffling Roman’s hair, who splutters indignantly. Remus smiles, leaning back against the soft cushions of the couch, taking a moment to bask in the softness, the warmth, the comfort. Roman leans against him, resting his head on his shoulder, as he reverently picks up the book from Logan.
“Where should we start, Ro? Romeo and Juliet? Macbeth? Othello?” He inhales the smell of paper and ink, remembering when they would watch performances online, analyze the costumes, the production, they had always loved theater.
“No. none of the tragedies, Rem. Something funny.” His eyes light up, as he flips through the book, nearly gasping at the feel of parchment against his fingertips. “There we are. Twelfth Night.”
“Ah. Good one, Ro. So, shall we pick our characters?”
“I call Viola/Cesario!”
“Aw, she’s the best one!” Remus whines, and Roman nudges him.
“Shut up, you can have Orsino and Olivia.” He placates, Remus sighing dramatically.
“Fiiine. Let’s go, then!” Remus agrees, excitement lighting up his eyes as they divvy up the rest of the characters.
It starts off as just reading the lines, but both of them have always been dramatic, and soon they’re creating different voices for the different characters, Remus ends up jumping off the couch, so caught up he starts acting out his scenes, Roman doing the same as best he can from his seat, laughing at Remus’s antics so hard his stomach was aching before they even made it to act two, Remus’s smile and laughter feeding his own.
Remus is positively aglow, watching Roman laugh, and act, and read, when was the last time he looked so happy, actually laughed, a full bodied, belly aching, laugh? It sounds sweet, so sweet and light and… and carefree, it’s everything he’s ever wanted for his brother, and it makes the knot in his stomach loosen a bit more, because if he’s laughing like this, he really is going to be okay.
“Don’t mean to break up the party, kiddos, but I’ve got some supper ready, if you feel up to eating.” Patton says, breaking the spell they’ve been weaving of comedic misunderstandings and misplaced crushes, the cobble streets and arcing castles fading away into the metal walls and dim lights of the ship.
Virgil is looking at the two of them, faint amusement tracing itself across his lips. Janus is still languid in his chair, but his head is tilted ever so slightly towards them, clearly having been watching their performance. And Patton is grinning from the kitchen, six plates sitting on the counter.
“That was actually… pretty good.” Virgil comments, surprise in his voice.
“Of course it was! I may be rusty, but once an actor, always an actor! It’s like riding a bike!” Roman blurts out, striking a pose, the bravado of his characters giving him a bit of courage. He’s rewarded by Remus’s snort, gently bumping him with his shoulder.
“More like drama nerd than actor.” Roman gasps, mock offense on his face.
“You’re lucky I’m injured, Remus, or I would be challenging you to a duel right now!”
“You’re lucky you’re my brother, otherwise I wouldn’t go easy on you and let you win.” Remus bites back, rolling his eyes.
“um, am the only one caught up on the ‘bike’ thing? The hell is that?” Virgil mumbles.
“It is a human form of transportation, consisting of a metal frame, which two wheels are attatched to. It is powered by the human peddling, and steered by handles attatched to the wheels, upon which pressure breaks are also mounted to allow for an easy stop to the kinetic motion.” Remus freezes at that voice, stiffening instantly, eyes turning cold and hard, and Roman knows instantly it must be Logan, as he peers over the top of the couch.
“Oh, that’s neat!” Patton comments, oblivious to the tension in the room, or just ignoring it. “Suppers done, if you want some! I just made mac ‘n cheese.”
“holy shit.” Roman whispers, eyes wide. “that’s… I can… can I have some?” He asks, hesitantly, immediately wincing at his question, waiting for the shoe to drop, waiting for the pain.
“of course, Roman! I made plenty for everyone.”
“I’ll go get you a plate, yeah? You wanna stay out here, or go back to our room?” Remus asks softly.
“Out here. It’s… nice.” Roman answers, smiling smally as Remus ruffles his hair again, kissing the top of his head.
Remus instantly hardens as he turns away from Roman, making a wide berth around the hallway entryway, where Logan is standing, unable to help glancing at him every few seconds.
It wasn’t only that Logan had been the one to make the decision to keep them apart. He didn’t like that decision, but he did appreciate the obvious attempt at keeping Roman safe, the care for his injury. He’d been harsh in his words, in the moment, cruel in them, but he’d been hurt and not thinking clearly, and though it was the cruelest thing that had ever been done to him, it hadn’t been intentional.
But there was something about him that reminded Remus much too much of The Scientist, as they called him, the way he stood, the formality of his speaking, the… the aura, he gave off. He doesn’t trust the way he moves, the way his gaze seems to see through him, the way he seems to analyze and take mental notes of every movement, every word, everything about him sets Remus’s instincts ablaze, screaming at him fight or flight, and it takes everything in him not to do either, just to steadily scoop some of the gooey, delicious smelling food onto two plates and walk back to Roman, settling stiffly onto the couch beside him, every muscle tense and breath hissing in and out.
“I should… retire back to my chambers. Apologies, I didn’t know the two of you were out here.”
“It’s fine-“
“You should go-“
Remus exchanges a look with Roman, who’s frowning at him, head tilted slightly, as he always does when he’s serious.
“You should stay.” Roman says firmly, voice brooking no argument, and Remus scowls, looking away, but not disagreeing.
“I appreciate the sentiment, but I would rather avoid causing either of you distress. I had noticed several times in the past, that my presence caused a stress reaction in Remus, and I would not want to intrude. I… will continue doing my best to not be nusaince, to either of you.” Logan states, quickly grabbing a plate and leaving the room. Several moments later, they hear the click of his door shutting, and Roman huffs, glaring at Remus.
“What? I didn’t say anything?!” He protests, and Roman’s eyes narrow.
“You didn’t have to! You looked like you were gonna jump him at any second! He saved my life, Ree, you have to give him something for that.” Remus sighed and looked away, idly pushing the food around on his plate.
“I know. I know I’m not being fair, Ro.” Roman softened, bumping Remus’s leg with his.
“So what is it that’s really upsetting you?”
“he scares me. The way he speaks, moves, talks, acts… it’s all… it’s Him. And I can’t not see Him, when I see Logan. I keep waiting for… for His voice, for Him to announce this experiment over, for Him to… to take you away again, and I know it’s not Him, and I know this is real, but how do I even know what real is anymore?” His voice cracks, and he realizes he’s crying again, and he shakes his head. “It’s all… it’s so fucked, Ro.”
“I know. I… I’m sorry.” Remus frowns, looking at Roman, who’s pushing around the food on his plate, still too pale, and far too thin, and he nearly laughs.
“you’re sorry? What the hell for? None of this is your fault! Definitely not the getting kidnapped and dragged to space thing, and certainly not the almost dying part, and definitely nothing in between!”
“I should have been braver. They… they split us up, and I know you were so afraid, I was too, but they used that against you, and I should have stood up to them, like you always did, I should have fought, since you couldn’t anymore, I shouldn’t have let them keep taking you, I shouldn’t… I shouldn’t have been relieved every time they took you instead of me! I hate it Ree, I hate that, that, I was such a coward! I was glad it was you and not me! How… how selfish is that?” Roman laughs, but it’s a pained, broken sound, and Remus instantly wraps his brother in a hug, slotting his head against Roman’s shoulder as he shakes.
“it’s not. It’s not selfish, Roman, you don’t need to be ashamed of that, you were plenty brave, brobro, you were plenty strong. They never broke your smile, they never stole your laugh, and that defiance made them angrier than anything, Ro. You kept me going, every day, you’re the only reason I never just gave up, and I would never have let you fight them, Roman, no matter how badly you wanted to, I would never have let you take that chance. Don’t be guilty because you were happy not to get hurt, that’s just self preservation, Ro. I would never fault you for that. All of it is their fault. All of it.” He feels Roman shaking harder, can feel the tears dripping onto his shirt, and he just squeezes Roman tighter, wishing he could absorb all of Roman’s pain, wishing he could take it all, even if it would kill him, he would take it all.
“I think I wanna go back to bed.” Roman mumbles, voice trembling, and Remus pulls back, nodding.
“ok. Can you eat a bit, for me, first? You’re still healing, and we don’t want you getting sick on top of that.”
“yeah.” Roman whispers, the life and spirit from the play reading nearly completely gone, and it breaks Patton’s heart a little more, seeing that glimpse of who Roman could be, should have been, would have been if their lives hadn’t been ripped out from under them. He exchanges a glance with Virgil, whom is frowning as well, likely feeling whatever sadness or hopelessness is radiating off the two humans. It must be strong, his eyes are darker than normal, his form flickering black at the edges. He can’t hear what they’re saying, but he knows Janus can, he has better hearing than the rest of them, and from the focused tilt of his head, subtly leaning towards them from his chair, he’s listening to every word.
Eventually they pull apart from their hug, and Roman eats some of the food, his eyes widening, delight lighting up his face, some of the life sparking back to his eyes as he digs in, absolutely devouring the mac ‘n cheese. Remus rolls his eyes, eating his own a bit slower, though the taste of actual, real, true food still nearly sends him to tears.
“You want more?” Remus asks softly, but Roman shakes his head, already fighting to keep his eyes open. He’s warm and full and can almost believe he’s safe. He blinks open his eyes at Remus’s soft chuckle, brushing back his hair. “it’s alright, ro. You can go to sleep.” He murmurs, careful as he scoops Roman into his arms, who immediately lets his eyes drift closed, nestling his head against Remus’s chest.
“Virg? You ok?” Patton asks softly, the black still flickering at his edges, and he sighs, shoving his hand through his hair.
“yeah. It just… it comes and goes so fast with them. One moment they’re fine, and the next they’re plummeting. I can’t brace myself for it.” Virgil replies, taking a deep breath in, and out, his form becoming more solid with each one.
Wraiths fed off negativity. Negative feelings, emotions, words, it gave them power. They could twist the dark to their will, bend shadows into monsters, could influence people’s thoughts and actions, and turn into shadowy, ghost like beings, hence the name ‘wraith’.
Virgil didn’t like feeding off of people’s misery, he didn’t thrive on it like others of his kind, didn’t relish all the myths and legends borne from his race. He rarely used his abilities, only if he or one of the others were in danger, though he tended to turn intangible when stressed or worried, going from his solid, humanoid form to a shadowy mass of smoke.
“They’ve been through so much. It’s only natural.” Janus replies softly, staring up at the ceiling. “They’re starting to trust us, though.”
“They’re starting to trust you and Patton. Remus doesn’t like me as far as he can throw me, and he flat out despises Logan.”
“No he doesn’t.” Janus interrupts, sitting up properly in the chair, eyes serious. “He doesn’t hate Logan, or you, for that matter. He’s afraid of you.” Virgil frowns, looking away.
“And that’s better?”
“Yes.” Both Janus and Patton say at the same time.
“it is. Because you can show them, every day, you can show them, that there’s no reason to fear you, and slowly they’ll start to trust.” Patton answers firmly.
“hate is harder to erase. It stains everything, it leaves no room for accidents or mistakes. Everything you do is malicious. Fear… can be unlearned so much easier. It allows for errors, it allows for apologies, it allows for growth.” Janus finishes, sighing and stretching as he stands, wincing slightly at the ache in his shoulder. It’s an old wound, long healed, but it still likes to act up every once in a while, usually when he’s stressed or worried, both of which he is now.
He sees too much of himself in the brothers, that’s his problem. He was young, when he was taken, had to be, else he would have known how to fight back properly, else his fangs would have been fully developed and with a single scratch he could have killed them all, but he was old enough to still have memories of his nest mates.
To remember warmth and comfort and a soft, lulling voice singing haunting melodies through the night. To remember the laughter of his siblings, of his cousins, of all the other children of the den, to know there had been squabbles and disagreements and play fighting and always, at the end of the night, they all curled together in a pile, sprawled across and under and over each other. They were so attuned to physical touch, needed it, needed the warmth it provided, both physical and mental, losing that had been its own kind of torture.
At least they have each other. He can’t even remember their names, let alone faces. All he has of his mother is that distant, soft crooning. All he has of his family is the faint feel of warmth. He wonders often if it would be better if he had nothing at all. He swallows hard, realizing Patton had asked him a question, and Virgil was looking at him with concern. He swallows past the lump in his throat, shoving back the emotions that come with these thoughts, because if he lets himself think a moment longer, they will overtake the tall, sturdy wall he has built in his mind to protect himself from the ache of almost memories.
“Janus… please.” Patton says, and he knows what he’s asking without saying it. Patton is asking him to stay, asking him not to run, asking him to talk about it, asking him for his full story, something he’s never really given, the curt summary of his history to Remus is all he’s ever told the others, but if he gives in to Patton, he won’t be able to hold it back. He won’t be able to pretend it wasn’t as bad as it was. He won’t be able to stop.
“I can’t… pat, I trust you with my life, but I… I can’t go back there. I can’t do it all again. That’s… that’s what saying it all would be, it would be doing all of it all over again, and I can’t…” He inhales shakily, nearly jumping out of his skin when Virgil takes his hand, turning him so they’re face to face.
“breath, Jan. In and out.” Virgil coaches softly, catching him at the edge of the abyss and slowly walking him back until the past fades away and he’s back in the present.
“I’m going to bed now.” He says, a bit flat, a bit distant, and without a second glance, he turns and walks away, closing and locking his door behind him, before he collapses on his bed and stares numbly at the ceiling, determined not to feel a thing, until he manages to fall asleep.
…
He can’t sleep. He doesn’t know why, he’s exhausted, he has been for nearly forever, but for some reason he can’t let it go tonight. That’s why he’s pacing the room, appreciating the soft glow of the ship, appreciating the lack of total darkness.
The door is open, and he keeps glancing down the hallway, as if expecting something to come attack, some monster to appear, some shadow demon to charge, though really, that’s basically Virgil. But the thought of being trapped, in this enclosed space, of the dark creeping in, is too much to bear.
He shivers again, because Virgil had apologized, about what he’d done, and meant it, and he understood, why Virgil had plunged him into that nightmare. He was protecting his family, and he understands that all too well, far too well to hold it against someone, but the residual fear still clings to him, adds another nightmare to his already long roster, and maybe he’s not sleeping because then he’ll have to experience all of it again.
He shakes his head, raking a hand through his hair, growling under his breath, because there’s too much energy, it feels like his legs are sparking with it, and this movement of pacing is barely holding it at bay.
Or maybe it’s the conversation from earlier, what Roman said, earlier, because despite all his reassurances, he knows Roman still blames himself for their getting taken in the first place. Which is stupid, incredibly stupid, but all his words will never dissuade Roman of that idea.
…
It wasn’t like they could have predicted it. They were camping, with their parents, an activity they did almost every weekend in the summer. Most times, they stayed close to home, just local county campgrounds with some hiking trails and jungle gyms, grilling out and sitting at a campfire telling stories until the moon was high in the sky. Those were the best, tired and sleepy, but still refusing to go to bed as the fire crackled, sending embers dancing through the air, while Dad read to them, Lord of the Rings, or Harry Potter, any fantasy book they could get their hands on.
Usually once or twice a summer, they packed up for a longer trip, one of the cool state campgrounds up north, with real forests and towering trees and lakes, and an air of mystery that the small wooded parks just didn’t have. They always had sing a longs in the car, Disney and theater music, and twizzlers, road trip twizzlers had somehow become a tradition. Him and Roman bickered and fought on the three, four hour ride, and their parents laughingly broke it up, until they both eventually passed out, waking up when they arrived.
This had been one of those trips. Deep, actual forest, sleeping in tents, the smell of pine and earth and crisp air all day, it was his favorite thing in the world! It was the end of their second day there, which they’d spent hiking around the lake, trying to imitate bird calls, and he had been howling, trying to attract wolves all day, much to Roman’s dismay.
It was dark, when Roman shook him awake. They’d gone to bed early, tired out from their activities, so he wasn’t surprised to look at the battery powered clock in their tent to see it was only one am.
“Rem. Rem, did you see it?” Roman asked, shaking him again, and he lightly shoved Roman off of him, rubbing at his eyes.
“did I see what, Ro?” He asked tiredly. Roman’s eyes were huge as saucers, and he was practically vibrating with excitement.
“the fairy.” He whispered conspiratorially, grinning, the gap in his bottom teeth visible where he’d recently lost a tooth. They’d both gotten in trouble for that one, but Roman had said it was wiggling, so of course Remus had volunteered to pull it out!
“what? Ro, you were just dreaming, go back to sleep.” He replied, rolling his eyes. Roman was ten, his imagination wilder than Remus’s at times, and he sometimes had trouble telling what was real and what wasn’t. He was a proud adult, at thirteen, and didn’t believe in things like fairies anymore, though he always humored Roman. He hated upsetting his little brother more than anything, and he could tell he had now, as Roman’s lip trembled and tears welled in his eyes. He usually wasn’t this emotional, but he guessed the little guy was still a bit sleep deprived and grumpy.
“There is! I saw its light!” He bit his lip skeptically. The best thing to do was play along.
“Easy, Ro. I believe you did see something, just, are you sure it was a fairy, and not just someone else’s flashlight or distant fire, or something? You know fairies are very rare.” He added, so Roman wouldn’t be offended. Roman scrunched his eyes, thinking hard for a moment.
“No. it wasn’t either of those. I know what that looks like, Ree, this was blue!” He sighed, alright, no getting out of this, then.
“Ok. We can go check it out, quickly, alright? Put on your shoes, and we’ll look around. If we don’t see anything, will you go back to bed?” Roman nodded enthusiastically, already with one shoe half on. He grumbled and threw on a sweater, before quietly unzipping the tent door and stepping out into the night air.
It was cool, but not unpleasantly so. The ground was already slightly wet from dew, and it was very dark. He was careful to keep his flashlight pointed at the ground, away from the parent’s tent a few feet away, shushing Roman as he came out, zipping the tent closed.
“ok, Ro. Where did you see it?” He whispered, his voice sounding huge in the relative silence of the night. The trees swayed above in a soft breeze, and he shivered.
“over there!” Roman whispered back, pointing towards the edge of the site. Carefully, he walked towards it, aware of the crunch of old leaves beneath his feet as he shone his light around the edge of camp. He didn’t see anything. He didn’t hear anything, either, which was odd.
That’s why it felt so loud and eerie. There were no crickets chirping, no night birds calling, no ambient sound from animals foraging through the underbrush. It was completely, unnaturally silent.
He swallowed hard, taking a step back, suddenly regretting all of his wolf howling from earlier. What if he really had attracted a large predator? That would explain the lack of noise, and the eerie, prickling feeling of unseen eyes on him. There could be a wolf, waiting to pounce, or a cougar up in a tree, he’d heard stories of them attacking people, they were nearly invisible in the woods, or-
“There!” He saw a flash of light, bright and deep and blue, come from deeper in the woods, and before he could say a word, Roman was sprinting past him, chasing after the ‘fairy light’. He cursed, and took off after his brother, unwilling to leave him alone to get lost in the woods and attacked by a bear or whatever lurked around here.
“Roman! Wait up!” He yelled, panting, speeding up as he heard Roman let out a yell, cut short. “RO!” He screamed again, but something sharp pierced his neck and he staggered, head spinning, vision blurring as he lost balance and fell to the ground. He reached up and weakly pulled something that looked almost like a dart from his neck, shaking with effort as he crawled forwards, just managing to get to Roman before he blacked out completely.
When they woke up, they had been in the cell. That pitch black, empty, desolate cell. The only good thing was that they were together. But they were terrified and confused and alone, and Remus had to stay strong, he had to hold in his tears, he had to act brave, for Roman.
Over the years, they’d picked up the ‘Common’ as it was called, the language the different guards and scientists and Him spoke with, learned it on their own, though they’d never learned to read it. It hadn’t taken too long, for them to realize what was happening, that they’d been abducted, like in one of the scary movies they weren’t supposed to watch, but that wasn’t the worst part.
The worst part was the stupid, aching, hope, that had lingered, strong and fierce for the first few days, the first few weeks, even, that they’d be let go. That’s what happened, in books and movies, the people were taken by aliens, and probed or whatever, and then put back on earth with no memory of what had happened. That hope had died a slow and agonizing death, over the months that turned to years, that turned to a decade of repeated, endless, horrors.
...
He shakes his head again, trying to clear it, trying to force back those memories, because they hurt, anything from before just hurts, and he’s never had time to think of it, before. He was always waiting for the next procedure or trap or experiment, always planning his and Roman’s survival, he’d never been allowed time to grieve or think or remember.
He tries to take a deep breath, and almost succeeds, swiping at his eyes. He feels wide awake, almost electrified, his every atom buzzing for movement, and he curls his hands into fists just so they stop shaking. He glances at Roman, who is still fast asleep, curled in bed, and sighs. Water, maybe some water will help. He’s been assured by Patton that the ship is open to him, day or night, that he’s free to eat or drink whatever he wants, that everyone shares responsibilities and chores and food on the ship, and he won’t get in trouble for using something. That doesn’t make it any easier, to cross the threshold of his room, his nerves on fire as he tiptoes past every door, holding his breath, jumping at every shadow until he makes into the common area. Again, the openness of it both soothes him and frightens him. There’s so many places to run, if he needs to, but so many places for enemies to come from, and he nearly jumps out of his skin as he hears a noise from the kitchen area, breath halting as he sees glowing silver eyes staring back at him, almost as startled as he is.
“shit. Fuck.” Remus curses, taking off, banging against the wall as he slides back into his room, instantly atop the bed and letting Roman cling to him, murmuring apologies and soft words, rubbing his back.
“Ree…r-ree” He strokes his hand through Roman’s hair, rocking and humming quietly, slowly bring Roman out of whatever nightmare world he’d been in. He can feel Roman’s shaking stopping, his breath evening out.
“you back, brobro?” He asks, smiling gently as he sees Roman’s clear brown eyes looking back up at him.
“yeah. S-sorry. I j-just panicked.”
“it’s ok, Ro. It’s alright. I’m sorry I was gone, I didn’t mean to scare you. I had… my own little breakdown last night.”
“you did? Are, you ok?” He snorts out a laugh, kissing the top of Roman’s head.
“me and Logan talked it out. Well, some of it. We’re…better. And they have coffee, so.” He shrugs, and Roman lets out a small laugh, eyes bright as he pulls away, rubbing his arm a bit self consciously.
“Kiddos? You two alright? I heard a scream.” Remus jumps at the voice from the doorway, Roman laughing at him. He replies by sticking out his tongue, slipping off the bed to his feet.
“We’re fine, Feathers. Roman just had a nightmare, and I haven’t slept in… hm, twenty six and a half hours?”
“What? That’s not healthy! Remus!” Patton scolds, and he just shrugs.
“It’s not the longest I’ve gone. Just over three days is my record, I think. Though they did something to me that time.”
“That was the thing that made your veins all orange. When you finally passed out, you slept for almost two straight days.” Roman answers.
“Oh kiddos. I’m sorry.” Remus looks at him, a bit puzzled.
“Why? It’s not like you did anything to us.” He replies simply, turning back to Roman. “You wanna go get something to eat?” Roman rolls his eyes.
“I know you just want your coffee, Ree.”
“You don’t know! Maybe I just wanna take care of my baby brother!” Roman laughs, letting Remus wrap an arm around his shoulders to support him as he stands.
“I’m only three years younger than you. That’s not that big a difference.” He points out, and Remus shrugs.
“Still younger than me! And we do still need to eat.” He helps Roman settle on the couch, before practically skipping over to the counter, inhaling deeply the smell of roasted coffee. Oh, it’s music to his nose, and he picks up the steaming mug, barely restraining himself from chugging the whole thing immediately, instead taking a small sip, nearly moaning in pure indulgence as he sinks into a stool, lost in a world of beautiful bitterness with just a touch of cream.
“enjoying yourself?” Virgil asks, and he can hear the smirk in the Wraith’s voice, as he flips him off, figuring that’s a pretty universal gesture. He’s proven right at Virgil’s sharp laugh, opening his eyes in time to see him slap a hand over his mouth to stifle the laughter.
“Play nice kiddos.” Patton says lightly, starting to pull ingredients out of the cupboards. Remus scrunches his brows, trying to catalogue the ingredients. He gasps, legs kicking in excitement.
“SHUT THE FUCK UP!” He yells, making Virgil jump and hiss, Roman peek over the top of the couch, and Patton let out a squeak.
“Language, kiddo.”
“ISTHATPANCAKEBATTERAREYOUMAKINGPANCAKES?” Rushes out of his mouth, as he rockets out of his seat, around the counter, bouncing on the balls of his feet. “Can I help?” He asks, excitedly, before flinching back, realizing what he’d just done, shouting, talking out of turn, asking for something, and he stills, bites his tongue, looking down and away. “sorry. I don’t… you don’t have to. I shouldn’t.”
“It is pancakes, Remus. And you are definitely welcome to help. I have the recipe memorized, but you can pour and mix, if you want!” He steels a glance up. Patton’s face is soft and genuine, not a hint of anger or malice, and he relaxes slightly, though he doesn’t get as loud or bouncy as he was earlier.
Patton frowns slightly, at his sudden quietness, his concern growing as he measures out the ingredients then lets Remus dump them into a bowl. He’s careful and slow, frequently glancing at Patton to make sure he isn’t fucking anything up, containing his chaos and stirring carefully, making sure not to get a single drop of batter on the counter.
He passes the bowl off to Patton, standing at the edge of the counter, hands folded behind him, trying to contain his need to sway, flinching back at the sizzle of the batter in the pan.
For a moment he is somewhere else. For a moment that sizzling heat is against his palm, the smell of burning flesh filling the room, his own skin smelling like cooked meat, making him sick, nauseas with the searing, endless, burning, that continues even after they take his hand off the hot plate of metal. It’s still bubbling and burning, somehow hurting more as it’s exposed to air, though he only screams when they plunge it into ice water, blacking out from the violent clashing sensations of hot and cold.
Then he feels something soft and snaps back to himself, realizing he was staring glassy eyed through Patton, and he rubs his hand as he winces, feeling the distant ache of old pain.
“sorry, I’m sorry. I…” He stutters out, not entirely sure what he’s apologizing for.
“hey, hey, hey. It’s ok, kiddo. Should we go sit down? I can have Virgil watch the batter, he’s surprisingly good at pancakes.” He shakes his head.
“it’s fine. I’ll just go sit with Roman. You don’t have to stop, you don’t have to inconvenience yourself.” Patton frowns, and he winces again, because now he’s screwed everything up.
“it’s not an inconvenience, Remus. I promise. I can show you how to preen my feathers, if you want.” He wants that. They look fluffy and soft and he wants to run his hands through them, but the mere thought scares him. He’ll be too rough, no matter how careful he is, and he’ll hurt Patton, and then Patton will hate him, and Logan will be mad, and Virgil will send him back into that dreamscape hell, and he’ll mess everything up. “remus. You’re not gonna hurt me, ok? I know it.” He shakes his head, stepping back, that strange electricity back in his bones.
“N-no. I’m fine, thanks. I’m… I’m gonna go try and get some s-sleep actually. That ok, Ro?” He asks, eyes pleading with his brother to say yes, to not ask, to let him go. Roman responds with a ‘we’re talking about this later’ look, but nods, and he lets out a sigh of relief, as he flees back to his room, closing the door and sliding down against it, burying his head in his hands, unwilling to move as he feels himself shaking, losing control of his muscles as he curls tighter.
It’s so hard. Why is being safe so fucking hard?
…
He wakes up to the smell of pancakes wafting through his door. He groans, running a hand over his face before he forces himself out of bed, slumping to the living room and flopping face down onto a chair.
“Good morning, Janus.” He groans in response to Logan’s greeting, not awake enough to summon words.
“Drama queen. I’m literally a being of darkness. How is it I deal with mornings better than you?” Virgil asks, amusement in his voice.
“because mornings are cold.” He mumbles.
“Actually, the ship runs at a steady temperature of seventy five degrees, which is an optimal temperature for all of our bodies to function at.” Logan answers.
“Fiiine, then my body is biologically evolved to not fully wake until later in the morning when the sun would have warmed up the cold dessert, allowing for basking and removing the possibility of hypothermia, that Nagas are more susceptible to.” He answers, flipping himself over so he’s laying upside down in the chair, head resting against the floor, legs up the back. “That’s what I was told, anyway.” He grumbles under his breath, soft enough he’s certain no one else hears him, except maybe Roman, who glances at him with a startled look.
Patton is in the kitchen, flipping pancakes, and Logan is sitting at the counter, flipping through his star atlas, no doubt reading up on distant galaxies and planets, adding his own notes and observations where applicable. Virgil is sipping a mug of coffee, and Roman is looking around at everyone, simply taking everything in, his gaze occasionally landing on the door at the end of the hall, a worried look on his face.
“Where’s Remus?” He asks, as casually as he can, trying to get a read on the situation. Roman frowns, and Patton shoots him a glance as he flips the last of the pancakes onto a plate.
“He said he went to get some rest. He hasn’t been sleeping.” Patton replies, in a way that lets Janus know Patton doesn’t fully believe Remus’s excuse, but didn’t want to push.
“He’s never been good at sleeping. Even before. He went to a specialist, once, but they said he was too young to try any medication, and all the over the counter stuff either didn’t work or gave him nightmares. He used to keep a dream journal. That helped, until… well.” Roman doesn’t have to finish his sentence, they all know what he means.
Before and After. That’s what life is divided into. Before he was taken, and the After of it all. Janus doesn’t have very much Before, but the brothers do, enough at least to properly mourn what they’d lost. Of course, he had more After than the two of them, though it hadn’t been as rough, as what they’d gone through.
Still, he knows the fear, how the slightest, most unpredictable thing can send you right back to There, something that was fine one day sends you off the deep end the next, and he still has trouble sleeping, sometimes, though he’s too proud and standoffish, still, to ask for someone to stay.
He still hasn’t found a word for After the After, for whatever this is, life cruising around on a spaceship with an oddball group of species, it hasn’t been long enough, to give this a name, to hope that it will last longer than the nearly eight years it has, he still can barely think past tomorrow. Still wakes up and forgets where he is, sometimes.
“Alright. I’ll go bring him some food, see if he’s still up. He should probably eat something.” He gets to his feet, catching Roman’s grateful relief as he passes, and he squeezes his shoulder gently, before sweeping into the kitchen and grabbing a plate of pancakes, drizzling syrup on top, before ruffling the edge of Patton’s wing, ducking his attempt to catch him in a retaliatory hug as he darts around Logan, using him as a buffer.
“Please do not include me in whatever game this is, I would prefer not to lose my place.” Logan says dryly, making Patton giggle. Janus doesn’t miss the slight twitch of Logan’s lips at the sound, and he grins too.
“Virgil, make sure Logan doesn’t start anything on fire. You know how careless he likes to be around open flame.” He calls as he starts down the hall, Virgil snickering as Logan splutters indignantly about how he follows proper fire safety procedures, and the one time he makes a camp fire just happens to be when the winds rolled in and the camp went up in flames!
