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Vic stares at a wall, an entire world of possibilities looking back at him.
He imprisons that stick.
He beats that stick.
He hurts that stick.
He kills that stick.
He's hypnotized by the idea, long dormant dreams of overcoming his oppressor, the thing that abused him, returning to the surface. Only this time it's not some nameless infinitely regenerative c ursor , it's a stick, one that looked just like him before he fell into the Newgrounds files. Only this time, there's nothing to regenerate it.
Vic feels something touch his arm but he ignores it, he has to plan this out to a tee, make sure all contingencies are covered, make sure nothing could get out, not even it. He has to make sur -
“-and she was much better at it then I'll ever be, but Vic I am so worried for you.”
There's a pause and Vic feels like he's missed something important, he's tuned into someone talking to him halfway through their sentence. That's… Not normal.
Vic feels himself frown in thought as the person continues talking
“Seriously, I know you have a different metabolism to most sticks, but even this is too much. And there's no light in here either! What would Mitsi- shit, I shouldn't have-”
Vic feels like a shock has gone through him, right… Mitsi-, she-
Suddenly very aware of everything around him, Vic pushes Agent out of the way just before he throws up.
He is sick , he feels unbalanced, he isn't right. Nothing is right .
There's a hand moving up and down Vic’s back in an attempt to soothe him, he lets it, slumping down in tired defeat.
“C’mon, let's get you cleaned up now okay?”
Vic nods absently, letting himself be led away, hopefully to a place he can just- forget for a moment. Not Mitsi, never Mitsi, just- everything else .
Mango sighs, it's not an angry, or an annoyed sigh, not even a tired or sad sigh. He just sighs, lets it all go just like she taught him.
He curls up on the arm chair that barely fits him for just the few moments of rest it will grant him, staring up at the ceiling and repeating the mantra in his head he started making up since- since it happened.
He is alive,
Gold is alive,
Gold needs him right now,
She would want him to stay to watch over gold,
She would be willing to wait,
He can wait for Gold,
One day they will be reunited,
And until then Gold needs him.
Repeating it a few times manages to actually convince Mangos brain it's tired enough to rest, so he slips his eyes shut so he can regain even a little bit of that extra energy he needs-
Crying- Gold is CRYING.
Mango immediately springs out of the chair and rushed into the bedroom, and Gold is there eyes shut but reaching up for-
A nightmare, it's a nightmare. Mango approaches the bed and lays down next to the bundle of blankets that's currently Gold, before tugging him into his arms.
He squeezes Gold gently but firmly, trying to tell their baby that it's just a dream, that his dad's here.
Thankfully Gold calms down enough to drift into semi peaceful sleep, though he still needs occasional squeezes to prevent him from getting fussy again.
It takes what feels like forever before Gold drifts off into almost normal sleep, Mango also feels sleep overcoming him and he tries to resist it, but his body is just too damn tired and it gives into rest.