Chapter Text
There were four days. Four days until these infernal wounds could be moved again.
It was sadistic, really; take someone keen on adventure and walking, and keep them pinned down by things that wouldn’t heal right without patience.
Where was this patience? For the scientists to hold, and you to find out, it appeared.
At least… you believed it to be four days? People had disappeared, between now and then. The doctors who had been so keen on checking on you every hour were nowhere to be find.
The alarms that had torn the night to shreds couldn’t have done anything good.
Just a shuffling of feet, panicked screaming, and an occasional intercom buzz with some mumbled gibberish that you had been too tired to parse.
You hadn’t shut your eyes since then, not really. Already, they would try to slip shut - sink into the peace of sleep - escape this torture for just long enough to regain consciousness - pretend like you were somewhere better - but it never worked, between the stinging pains of your various injuries.
Surgical wounds, likely, not that you could come up with what surgery…
There was just something; something painful, something that overtook any kind of thought and forced you to wake up screaming in the night - what defined a night when the sun wasn’t able to shine - to express the sting of it all.
Four days.
Too long, really.
You already hadn’t eaten anything solid in weeks. And four days without anything promised?
That was… an absolute recipe for disaster. Absolutely not.
But, then again, maybe you wouldn’t have to wait for that long. Couldn’t feel desperation for anything if you were dead.
There was a loud slam of something running into metal, followed by a string of muttered curses. Couldn’t tense more than you already were, but it appeared your body wasn’t keen on listening to that, flinching harshly.
Didn’t feel great against the stitches.
“I heard breathing. If you don’t show your face right now, I am going to make assumptions you do not want me making. I am armed, do not forget that.”
It was a raspy sort of voice; clearly upset by something. Mad at… you? Not splendid, likely.
But you were in no state for getting up just yet - not by a long shot. Could barely rasp out words as it was.
“Uh… yeah, so about that, actually-”
The doorknob shook from across the room. Fuck.
Probably should not have answered the voice that seemed to be threatening you, but then again, too late for that now, really.
“Open the damned door, alright? I’m not using a breacher on you fools, so either make this easy on me, or…” there was a huff.
“... just make it easy.”
“Oh, right, because I would love to open the door for the person currently threatening my life-”
The person on the other side had the audacity to huff; cocky little bastard.
Or maybe you were the cocky one here…Too much thinking; it made your head hurt.
“Right, right, how funny. Look, if we’re not in the mood for agreeing, I can just as easily knock this door off its hinges.”
Well, interesting proposition.
You probably could have managed to get up, really. Property damage, or something stupid like that. Did you really care about that though…?
In the face of possibly hurting slightly more than you would have liked to, did it matter if this person ruined the building’s probably-already-bad architecture?
So, instead, you stayed quiet. It’d be funny to watch, at least, in case it didn’t work. You could do with a bit of humor; it had been quite a boring stay so far in the little white hospital-ish room.
What happened next, however, really wasn’t too funny.
The door immediately fell down, light flooding into the hallway and illuminating… a creature of some sort, most definitely; that thing was not human.
You couldn’t make out most of it from your distance - and probably worsening eyesight, but you couldn’t be bothered to notice that just yet - but it seemed… long, for lack of any better terms.
Where were its feet?
In your slap-happy confusion, you couldn’t help but laugh, muffled only halfheartedly by a shaky hand. The creature looked stupid.
Really stupid, actually.
Did it know that?
“You look like an idiot.”
Probably could have been less brash there, but it was funny watching the thing’s face morph into something completely angered.
“Excuse me? I’ll have you know, none of this is by choice-”
“Wouldn’t imagine it would be; nobody would ever choose to be so ugly-”
Because this thing was funny.
Probably shouldn’t be mocking the creature. Shouldn’t be insulting it… it had knocked over the door after all, surely it was somewhat strong. Bad, then.
Very bad.
If it was upset, it could… could probably kill you in a moment.
You didn’t want to die, tears bubbling up.
“... what the fuck-”
It just seemed confused at the sudden mood swing, blinking from three spots.
Why were there three eyes, that was weird…
Had to be something wrong with your own vision, then, which just made you sob harder. You were stuck there with this weird, probably-pissed thing, and had to just hope it would have pity for you.
“Bold move, really; goin’ from spitting insults at me to breaking down. Who do you think you are, punk?”
Part of you really wanted to make a joke at that, but the thing probably wouldn’t be any more happy with that, so you opted for staying silent - as quiet as you could be from between weak, choked tears.
Oh, you must look just wonderful about now, broken down and curled in on yourself…
Couldn’t even open the fucking door for the thing.
“... well? You going to give me an answer, you talkative little thing? Surely there’s more words inside you, eh?”
Not entirely, no. There was a difference between saying whatever came to your mind, and actually thinking about what you said. One of which was nigh impossible compared to the other.
No thinking, if you could help it.
‘Talkative little thing’. Well, you sure weren’t quiet, but surely you still deserved some respect…
Hypocritical, you were sure, but that wasn’t to say you appreciated the creature’s tone any more.
“... ‘m a person, don’ call me that.”
Your words were more slurred than you had realized.
You knew some of it had to be messed-up, of course; it was much too hard to think, how would expressing those thoughts be any easier. But that wasn’t very… strong-sounding. Weak little muttering.
Not your finest work.
Managed to get a laugh out of the other though, which the tired part of you absolutely adored.
“Pfft- A person? That’s bold, two-fins. If you’re a person, so am I, you realize.”
Okay, that was just rude-
You probably weren’t pretty, no, but fins? You were more put together than that, surely this other thing wasn’t that blind-
You moved a hand up to support your head, face drawn in an utterly childish pout.
Instead of smooth skin - you would have taken acne-ridden too, anything but whatever that was - you were met with… scales?
No, no, not scales, that was weird…
Were your fingers messed-up, then?
Because something had to be wrong, that wasn’t normal, what the fuck-
“... why’m I weird?”
It was the only thing you could get out, fingers tracing the patch of scale-like material - you hated the term for it, but it fit the most accurately. Your brow was furrowed in something combined with concern and mortification. No wonder the other thing seemed to pause when it saw you, no wonder you felt like shit…
What an illness, if that was what it was. Something on your face?
Your fingernails dug at the patch, trying to get under the material, peel it off. They slid with a smooth clicking, digging into a sensitive part of your face. Had been pressing down further than you had thought, it appeared.
Other way around, then. You instead moved to underneath the scales. They had to move, there was no way they would stay, that wasn’t right at all-
“... weird? Oh, you stupid, innocent little bastard-”
The thing laughed, a huffed - but perhaps not unkind - sound. More like… reminiscent? But why would that be, there was no need to reminisce over something so clearly singular to yourself…
“‘s rude’a ya’- ‘m not stup’d, jus’... c’nfused.”
Well, you sure couldn’t have fucked up talking more. The damned thing was starting to get to you, almost as bad as the gentle trickle of blood down your face - oh, when had that happened, you should probably stop picking at that now.
“Confused sure is one way to put it. Look, idiot… you’re not going to get anything from hurting yourself. New to this whole business?”
The thing moved closer to you - was ‘slid’ the right word? You didn’t see any legs for it to walk with - leaning against the cot you were on, and why did it feel so gentle now, of all times…
“... wha’ busin’ss? ‘m I on somethin’?”
That’d explain the delusions, at least. Something hallucinogenic; it’d work out better than… well, your own mind finally giving out on you.
The one time you really did hope you were on drugs. That would explain everything better.
The thing just laughed instead, finding the premise alone absolutely hysterical. “No, no, ha… no, kid, you’re not high. Just a little, ah… out-of-the-loop. Propofol does a lot - to some more than others”
Propofol? If that wasn’t a drug’s name, you would… how did the saying go again? Eat your own hat?
You didn’t even have a hat; those were weird, and felt odd.
Hats looked stupid, anyways.
The stranger looked like it had a hat; something was sticking out of their head and glowing.
“... you have a weird hat.”
The other blinked once more, laughter dying out. “... oookay then, I’ll go with the assumption that something is seriously wrong. Brain damage? Cognitive issues? How many fingers am I holding up?”
Well then, someone didn’t take constructive criticism well- If anything, you were doing it a favor. Imagine showing up somewhere important, with a stupid hat like that-
Fingers, though? You could count things.
It looked to be a full hand, given how none of them were bent over. Which would be five. People had five fingers.
But no, because every time you went back to count, there were only four.
Why was this person missing a finger?
“... you disabled or somethin’? ‘Cause I don’t judge’r anythin’, an’ it’s okay, but, like… you are noot lookin’ right, my guy. Or someone wi’ another joint’r somethin’ and knows magic, uhh… shit, wha’s that’un called again? F’rgot it, but I know th’re’s a term for it an’ all…”
The thing just blinked again.
“How… polite. Alright then, no counting for you. You never even said a number.”
Oops.
“So; you’re coming with me. How well do you think you can move right now?”
It took a lot to not laugh again - that, or start crying. Moving? Right now? Absolutely not, nope, nada.
Not going to happen for a while now.
“... you wan’ me ta’ get up an’ go somewhere with ya’? Nuh-uh, stranger danger.”
You had other reasons, too, but you had to be strong right now. It seemed like the kind of thing to laugh off pain, anyways.
Instead of nodding in agreement to your totally reasonable and valid point, it just pinched the bridge of its nose - what an odd nose - and sighed loudly.
“Look, I don’t know if you’ve cared to notice, but it’s me or nobody. Alright? We’re all strangers, but you seem harmless enough. Can’t hurt anyone, anyways; you’re too much of a wet cat.”
That was uncalled-for, okay-
Throwing around insults? You could do that one too, absolutely…
“Okay, and… an’ you’re jus’ stupid, an’... an’ fat, an’ ugly, an’ I’m sure nobody likes ya’, and-”
You were silenced by a glare, because oh, that wasn’t great at all.
Too far then.
“Goddamnit, you’re just like the blue guy-”
What a shitty name for a person, really. Then again, you were calling this huge thing that could probably kill you ‘the creature’ in your mind, so you probably weren’t too much better.
“But alright idiot, your choice here. Fish guy, or die.”
That rhymed, nice… it didn’t seem in the mood to hear that though, so you kept that comment on the back burner.
And hey now, wait a minute…
“... fish guy?”
If it was possible, the thing groaned even louder. “Oh my gods, how daft are you-
“I’m Solace, as you’ll call me until I know you better. Pleasure to make your acquaintance, dipshit.”
Well, wasn’t someone a ray of sunshine. Then again, you probably deserved that one, given all you had been saying about it in your mind.
Solace; huh. What a stupid name.
But he hadn’t appreciated the hat comment, and was clearly trying to be polite now, so you canned it, only nodding weakly.
“Okay… neato. An’ what’ll happen to me if I go with fish guy?”
You could have sworn its eyelid twitched. Which, fair, it had just given you a name to work off of.
“If I decide to let your stupid ass come with me, after all this, then I’ll see if I’ve got anything to fix you up. You and I both know these things start out white,” it hissed, gesturing to the parchment-like thing that covered the cot.
Oh great; not only were you with this Solace dude, but also currently stewing in your own blood. Go with him, or spend the last of your painful days there.
Fucking wonderful.
“An’ how d’ya plan on movin’ me, fish guy?” you muttered, rolling your eyes.
Ow, fuck, bad idea, that did not help the headache…
You were so weak on your own, you’d have to just go with it at this point, no matter what it - he? Probably he - tried to do.
“Number one, stop calling me fish guy- Two, I’m sure you’re light enough to pick up, and we’ll just have to manage from there. This is not a compliment, nor a courtesy, I’m just not watching you die here like an idiot.”
“Keep calling you fish guy then, gotcha,” you said, with a shiteating grin. Could barely even register the second part of his statement, too busy being an absolute prick. It was quite time-consuming, really, of course you would need to put your full attention there.
“Alright, we’re going to be a bitch about it. Got it. I’ll make note to not be careful around your injuries then, and not bother with asking how you’re doing-”
There was a panicked hum, cut off by intense, searing, dangerous pain.
Why the fuck were you not on the ground - cot - whatever - why were you flying, this isn’t what a high usually did to a person-
“Shut the fuck up, or I’m going to gag you. I do not actually have any qualms about silencing you while I get you over to the shop; if you draw attention, so help us all-”
Wasn’t going to be getting much care from fish guy then, noted.
In that case, you made up your mind to not care about him, either. If he was going to be a prick just because you were in pain, then let him complain. You could always complain louder.
You mumbled something that barely even made sense in your own head, but registered as some kind of complaint. It got increasingly louder, until you felt his grip on you loosen - when had you gotten into a hallway, what the fuck - and you silenced immediately with a panicked squeak.
The moment you realized what he had done, though, a scowl came to your face. Bold move, fish stick.
“... you try’na give me heart troubles?” Because really, how dare he try to mess with someone as wonderfully powerful as yourself. How dare he attempt to drop you of all people.
Instead he just smirked - fuck him and his smirk - and laughed. “Don’t mess with the person keeping you from falling flat on your face then, hm? Stupid decision, in my mind.”
Oh, that little-
“... rot in hell.”
He only laughed, turning a corner once again.
There was something rhythmic in the movement, the gentle breeze across your face as he walked…
Goddamnit, what a way to fall asleep. Like an actual fucking toddler.
You’d be the first to admit, though; there was something nice about it.