Chapter Text
There are people talking.
That is the first thought that goes through Stephen’s head as he comes into consciousness.
No, there are people arguing is his second thought.
There is no longer ringing in his ears and while he wants nothing more than to relish in that fact– the ringing was annoying at least and painful at most– the fact that there are people arguing around him has his chest aching. He can’t make out the words, he’s too tired still to be able to do so but the mere prospect of people being in a conflict around him, the mere sound of raised voices has him whimpering.
That sound seems to stop everything.
His head tells him that such a thing is bad, that silence is just as bad as shouting but he can’t remember why for the life of him. His head is swimming and he’s exhausted but there are still alarm bells quietly going off in his head. Someone speaks but he pays their voice no mind as he flexes his fingers. His fingertips brush against something soft. It makes him pause. There shouldn’t be anything soft in the–
Pain. Blurry walls. The sound of a door. Screwllum. Movement. More noise–
His eyes shoot open.
He hisses as light floods his vision, his eyes screwing closed once again because the sheer brightness threatens to burn into his retinas and he tosses his head to the side in reflex. The action makes the entire length of his neck light up with pain and he groans, an open and trusting sound because he’s safe. He’s safe and he can act how he pleases.
He takes a deep breath through his mouth– he does not find himself willing to try and breathe through his nose in case it is still injured– and steadies himself before opening his eyes once again. When his eyelashes flutter open, the light of wherever he currently is no longer burns to look at. For that, he is immensely thankful. He is so, so tired of pain.
Now that his eyes have adjusted, he realizes that he’s staring at one of the walls of the room that he is in because of how he threw his head to the side and he feels relief fill him at the sight of light grey walls. These aren’t the walls of the spacecraft that he was forcibly taken to, these are the walls of the space station– of Herta’s space station. Relief practically slams into him at the realization.
Something wet gathers in his eyes before he can stop it and he blinks away the few tears that suddenly cling to his lashes, feeling the way that his tears flow down his cheeks. It is uncomfortable, especially with how his neck is turned to the side so far but he doesn’t pay it any mind. No, he merely brings his gaze further to the side to find him sitting in a chair that is so normal compared to him that it’s funny.
“Sc–” A cough cuts him off before he can say anything more, pain flaring up his throat. Though, he’s unsure if the hoarse little whisper he managed to get out can even count as saying anything at all with the way that it barely sounded even remotely like the man’s name. He squeezes his eyes shut and has to trust that the image of him and this room will not disappear when he opens them again. It doesn’t. A sigh of relief slips past his lips.
“Suggestion: do not attempt to talk right now. Your throat has been injured and speech will only worsen it.” Screwllum explains slowly, more slowly than he normally would and he is thankful for that considering that his mind is still feeling more sluggish than it should be. He offers him a small nod in response, watching the way that the golden rim of his monocle catches the light when he tilts his head slightly.
“I am glad to see you awake, Stephen.” The sound of a familiar calm voice makes him stiffen where he lays instead of comforting him like it should be doing. He thinks back to that moment in the hall of the space station, and thinks about the way that her voice had been oh so familiar and gentle when words left her mouth. He also remembers the way that such a thing only led to that horrid pain and fear.
He takes a deep breath, feeling the way that his chest rises on the inhale and falls with the exhale. He focuses on the feeling of that rather than the sudden dread that has started to sprout within his heart, his chest aching with something other than relief. He blinks slowly, taking in the sight of Ruan Mei far more warily than he ever thought he would.
She hums quietly, her hand slowly reaching down towards him and–
A hand wrapping around his ankle, mean arms squeezing the air out of his lungs, and a hand slamming into the side of his face–
He whimpers, flinching as he closes his eyes and braces for the pain that has become far too familiar to him in the past few times that he has come into consciousness.
It is only when the pain never comes that he opens his eyes again.
His brows furrow in confusion as he takes in the sight of Ruan Mei. The look that has painted her face is far more distressed than he thinks he’s ever seen, save for that time when he was reaching for her– for them when they were in the doorway. He eyes her hand that is now retreating from him, her fingers curling into her palm as she gazes down at him.
Guilt pools in his stomach.
A strangled noise slips past his lips at the sight, his breathing growing fast and shallow as he looks at her because–
Surely, it’s Ruan Mei. The others wouldn’t let her near him if it wasn’t her, the actual her and Screwllum wouldn’t especially because he’s not organic and he can’t hallucinate like an organic can–
“Stephen.” The sound of his name has his gaze snapping back over to Screwllum, his vision suddenly blurry once more. Wetness slides down his face despite the fact that his injuries should be taken care of because he’s in a bed that he’s only now registering–
Oh.
Oh.
He’s crying.
He’s not bleeding from his nose– he’s not bleeding at all. He’s crying and he thinks that he may be choking on his very own sobs as they fill the air of the room they are in. He vaguely recognizes it as one of the private medical rooms for people who need long term treatment. The implications make his head swim.
“Breathe. Deep breaths.” Screwllum instructs gently, his hand slowly lifting up and he eyes it as the man carefully sets it down beside him. It’s a very small gesture of comfort, one that does more than it should and he focuses on his hand, focuses on lifting it sluggishly– why is he so weak, why does his body still feel so drained– before letting it flop down onto the man’s own hand. It does the job, he reasons.
“I should go.” Ruan Mei mutters, more to Screwllum than to him or herself and another noise escapes him as panic finds its way into his heart.
Yes, he is frightened that maybe she is just another hallucination and will hurt him but he also doesn’t want her to leave. He doesn’t want to be alone again.
“Stephen.” Screwllum’s call of his name is slightly more firm than it had been last time and he sharpens to attention. He doesn’t remember when he had started to retreat into his own mind. It worries him.
“Would you like her to stay or to leave?” That is not Screwllum’s voice.
His head turns to follow the direction that voice came from and he can feel the tension in his shoulders slowly seep out of him at the sight of Herta.
Not only that but she’s in her real body.
He’s only seen her in her actual form once. He thinks she looks a little different. Granted, the last time he saw her; her face wasn’t screwed up with emotions that he can’t quite place but he’s certain that there’s something new about her. He manages to put his finger on it, so to speak, before any more dread about hallucinations can settle in. Herta looks older. Her hair carries more white than it does gray now. It makes him blink in surprise.
“Herta, yes or no questions are required as of right now. His throat is still recovering from the damage it sustained.” Screwllum explains and the choice of words has him grimacing. Damage it sustained. As if it isn’t an injury. He has to remind himself that Screwllum is inorganic, that they are all most likely still worried about him in their own ways. Perhaps the man just finds that choice of words more easy to say out loud than saying that he was injured.
“I know, Screwy. I was–”
“You forgot.”
He watches as Herta turns red, as her eyes narrow and he can’t help the way he leans a bit more towards Screwllum. Thankfully, no one seems to notice.
“I didn’t forget, Screwllum. I was just distracted. Which; I will rectify right now.” Herta tells him, her voice as stern as it usually is and it manages to both calm him down and stress him out all at once. He can’t stop thinking about that man and the many different ways he spoke and the way that pain more often than not followed in the wake of his voice. It makes him feel more than a little uneasy and wary.
“Stephen, do you want Ruan Mei to leave?” Herta asks as she turns her head to look at him properly and he hears Screwllum sigh as she does so. Perhaps if he wasn’t still hyper aware of where he is, if he wasn’t so hyper aware of the fact that his heart refuses to calm then maybe he would laugh at the familiarity and ridiculousness of it all. He doesn’t. But his lips twitch with humor regardless. If they notice, none of them comment on it.
Stephen thinks about her words. Does he want Ruan Mei to leave? He finds that the answer is both, that he wants her to both stay and leave despite the fact that such a thing is impossible. Her being here makes him feel like she’s suddenly going to change back into that cruel man and begin to hurt him again while another part of him knows that it is her and does not want her to leave. He whines.
“Maybe you should just sit in one of the chairs? That might be enough distance for both answers.” Herta tells her and he nods his head in agreement despite the fact that his head is beginning to feel like it’s going to start pounding again. He chooses to ignore the blossoming pain in his head as he glances over at Ruan Mei; both to check if she’s still there and to check that she’s still her.
She most certainly is still her. That expression on her face from earlier is still on her face as she looks down at him, the only thing different being that her arms are crossed and the surprise is now gone from her eyes. Guilt pools in his stomach at the sight, threatens to make his eyes sting with even more tears and he swallows around the lump in his throat. Doing so hurts.
“Very well.” Ruan Mei eventually speaks up and her tone is odd in a way that he hasn’t heard from her before. He can’t decide whether that makes what shoots through his heart fear or guilt. He’s still tired enough to be willing to let it go, to not try and put his finger on just what exactly he is feeling. He reasons that he can do it later, when everything doesn’t feel like a messed up jumble of things.
He watches as she smoothly turns away from the bed where he lays and begins to walk over to the far wall. The room is rather small so it doesn’t take her very long to settle into one of the chairs that creaks at any weight put onto it. She finds his gaze. He smiles at her; small and shaking and not so comforting but she smiles back at him like she did before she left the meeting room and that is enough for him.
“Stephen,” Screwllum starts to speak and he lets his head slide to the side to be able to look at him while he speaks. Even if he feels far more steady than he has been feeling, looking directly at him while he speaks helps him focus on what the man is saying.
“Would you like to go back to sleep? You’ll need to stay here for quite some time to recover fully and if you are not ready to deal with everything currently, we understand that.” Screwllum tells him, his voice soft and slow and he blinks at him as he thinks about his words. It takes a moment longer for them to properly process in his mind, his thoughts still lagging behind despite the fact that his injuries have been treated.
The thought of going to sleep doesn’t sit right with him. He is right where he wants to be; he is on the space station with all of them after so long of being stuck on an unknown spacecraft and he wants to relish in that fact for as long as he possibly can. He shakes his head, lightly this time to avoid his head from pounding.
“Would you like to know what happened?” Herta asks, her voice a bit closer than before and there’s a dip in the mattress to his side to let him know that she’s added weight to it. His gaze drifts down to the sight of his hand atop Screwllum’s own.
He doesn’t want to think about the pain, doesn’t want to think about the fear, nor the way that he felt unbearably stuck in that room. He also doesn’t want to spend any more time wondering distantly about how everything happened and what happened to him when his mind finally sharpens to full clarity.
He nods.
“Are you certain? It’s quite a lot, I’m certain that you must be tired.” Screwllum inquires and he nods eagerly. He hears Herta snort beside him, fingers settling into his hair that make him stiffen for a moment before– realizing that they’re hers with the long nails and gentleness– relaxing back into the bedding.
“He’ll probably sleep better knowing what happened, Screwy. Stop questioning him.” Herta states and her voice is far more light and easy than when he heard it in that meeting room. It makes something within him unwind, his eyelids going half mast with something soft. He does not let them close however. No, not until he gets his answers.
“We’ll start from the beginning. It will probably clear things up more.” Herta says more towards the others than towards him and he hears Ruan Mei make a soft noise in agreement. Knowing that she’s still here despite the fact that he’s still not looking at her makes something within him ache for a reason that he can’t pinpoint.
“To put it simply– because you are still in recovery and will not be able to handle in depth explanations–” Stephen feels his lips curl into a smile as Screwllum looks pointedly towards Herta and he lets his gaze follow for a moment, noticing that she’s now sitting beside him, before returning his gaze to the man. She looked affronted. It’s funny. He likes funny– he prefers it over everything else that he has been put through recently.
“The man who took you,” The small smile on his face immediately fades at that. Perhaps it’s noticeable with the way that Herta’s thumb carefully rubs into his scalp, with the way that Screwllum’s free hand gently settles over his own. It makes him want to curl into himself. “He had managed to hack into the station’s systems.”
“Which we both worked on upgrading since. It won’t happen again.” Herta adds, her voice different in a way he can’t quite place. It does make him feel a little better though. Knowing that the man won’t be able to get in here again makes his chest ache a little less.
“Yes. The security of everything is much better than before. Rest assured that there will be no repeat of this experience again.” Stephen smiles at that.
“However, back to the recount,” He can hear Herta huff at that.
“He had somehow managed to hone the True Stings’ hallucinogenic properties to his own use; he had made Ruan Mei believe you were with her when she came to check on us.” Stephen blinks in surprise. The thought of Ruan Mei getting tricked like he did makes him feel uneasy, makes a bitter taste sit atop his tongue and his brows furrow at the thought. He feels a bit more guilty now.
“We only realized what was happening when it was too late. By the time that we went to check on you, he’d already managed to grab you.” Ruan Mei speaks up, voice filled with more emotion than he typically hears from her in a way that leaves his eyes growing wet again. He remembers that part well. He remembers reaching out and trying to grab for them despite the way that it did very little.
“We are glad that we managed to find you.” Screwllum tells him, his voice breaking through the odd silence that was trying to settle over them as Herta carefully scratches at his scalp. He can feel himself melt into the gentle touch as he blinks the wetness away from his eyes. He succeeds, though he feels a few stray tears slip down his face in the process. Thankfully, no one comments on it.
“Aw, even Screwy’s getting sappy. Do I have to do everything around here?” Herta scoffs, her voice wavering in its lightheartedness as her free hand gently cups his face and wipes the tears away from his cheeks. Her hands are cold, colder than the people’s hands on his planet but the way she treats him with such delicateness drives the discomfort away.
“We spent quite some time trying to find you. Honestly, your little message helped us more than you could know, even if that man had sped up the second he realized.” Herta explains further and he can’t help the way that a confused noise slips out of his mouth at her words. What message? He wonders for all of a moment before–
“You sent us a message of your coordinates.” Ruan Mei reminds him, her voice gentle and worried and his lashes flutter in remembrance. Yes, that message. He did send that message when he had the laptop and the man had not been in the room. He nods to signal that he remembers.
For a moment, it is quiet.
Then Herta continues to speak.
“After we got your coordinates, we headed over and took you back. You don’t belong on a sub par ship and you certainly don’t belong to that man. As soon as you received medical attention, you have been in the medical cabin since. Far more fitting than that place.” Herta spits out with sudden venom and he hums, leaning into her touch as she continues to massage his scalp. His eyelids droop.
“While getting your recount of what happened would be nice,” Screwllum starts, his voice calm and steady and he can’t help the way that he latches onto it. “You are currently unable to speak. It is not needed at this moment so I must insist that you go back to sleep. Resting will make your recovery go by faster.”
Stephen hums. Yeah, he thinks, that makes sense. Despite that thought, his mind has grown soft in a way that he can’t fully understand why. Unlike the fog that had settled over his head in that room, this is much less dangerous to feel. It’s safe.
He sighs happily.
He’s safe.
His fall into unconsciousness is a gentle descent and he falls asleep with something close to contentment in his heart.
There’s a hand in his hair.
It drags him from his sleep, makes his heartbeat speed up enough to fill his ears.
His eyes blink open blearily as he tries to sit up– as he tries to get away, get away, get away–
There’s gentle shushing as his blurry vision refuses to clear enough for even the blobs to be distinguishable from one another. It makes fear crawl up his spine.
He whimpers.
Fingers suddenly enclose around his own and panic surges forward; wraps around him by the throat and he feels like he’s being choked again and he thrashes but–
Hair.
There’s hair in his hand instead of the fingers wrapped around it.
He yanks, fear driving his defense mechanisms to the front.
There’s a sharp yelp but there is no pain, no yelling, nothing.
He digs his fingers into the hair as his thrashing comes to a stop and realizes that it’s in the shape of a familiar braid.
He squints.
“..Dad?” The word is a slurred whine, something nonsensical and high pitched but he hears the soft rumble of an affirmation– why can’t he hear properly?– and can feel his stomach clench with a cry.
There’s a soft noise, one that seems to break in on itself before a forehead is pressing to his forehead.
He wants to lift his arm and wrap it around him but he can’t–
“Shh, I’m here. Duckling–”
Those words are all he can make out before he falls back into unconsciousness.
The sound of beeping greets him as he wakes up.
He lets out a sharp exhale– through his nose, his mind notes with relief and amazement all at once through the thick fog of sleep still clinging to him– and stretches his legs as his face scrunches up. His chin is sticky in a way that tells him he was drooling in his sleep and he grimaces, lifting his hand up to try and wipe it away but–
A careful hand wraps around his wrist and pins it into something soft.
His eyes shoot open in an instant, flicking over to where that hand seems to be coming from. For a moment, his vision blurs and he thinks that perhaps the man has come back to hurt him again but after a few rapid blinks, he realizes that his vision was only blurry from sleep and not from his injuries. The blurriness disappears and instead is replaced by the sight of Screwllum.
A rush of air escapes his lungs in pure relief. It’s Screwllum, he tells himself. He’s fine, he is not going to be hurt by him. Despite that belief, he still finds his gaze flicking down to where the man has put his hand down onto his wrist, confusion and curiosity sparking in his chest in equal measures as to why he won’t let him move his hand. Ah. He finds out the reason very quickly.
There’s an IV in his arms. Memories come slamming into him and a harsh exhale leaves his mouth as they do so. Right. He’s in the medical cabin. He is in the medical cabin on Herta’s space station. He is no longer in that room with no escape. No, now he is safe and protected and healing from all of the pain that man had caused. Despite that, the sight of the IV in his arm still manages to make him uneasy.
“Request: please refrain from moving that arm. I would prefer it if you didn’t accidentally remove your IV.” Screwllum mutters, his voice quiet and gentle and he feels himself relax beneath the weight of it. He takes a deep breath through his nose, feeling the way that his lungs expand with the inhale of air and he nods. With that, the man retracts his touch to instead place his hand atop his own once more.
“Good morning, Stephen.” Screwllum says after a small moment of silence and Stephen can feel his lips stretch into a small smile. He reaches over with his free hand and carefully sets his hand down atop the man’s own where it rests over his other hand, just like he did the last time he woke up. The last time he woke up. At that thought, he glances around the room.
He spots Ruan Mei slumped into the chair she was in last time, a small blanket thrown across her form as she sleeps away. He has to make sure that she’s simply sleeping by straining his ears to listen to her quiet breaths. Screwllum’s thumb strokes over his wrist, tracing the easy to see veins in his ivory skin. That’s two of them. He only counts two however. He sees Screwllum and Ruan Mei but–
“Where’s Herta?” He asks before he can truly think about it and he blinks in surprise when his voice comes out of his throat without pain, even if his mouth is uncomfortably dry and scratchy and his voice sounds rough and hoarse. Ah. His injuries must have been healed enough for him to speak again. Relief slams into his chest at that realization. Thank goodness. There was a small fear in the back of his head that maybe he wouldn’t be able to speak again. He is glad to be proved wrong.
“She has been having to deal with business on the space station much more as of recently. She’ll be back as soon as she’s free.” Screwllum answers, his thumb stroking over the skin of his wrist. Those words make his heart squeeze. He knows that it is most likely because of the intrusion that she is working even more than she usually does. The thought doesn’t settle right in his stomach. He chooses to do his best to ignore it.
“Can I–” A cough tumbles out of his mouth before he can finish the question, his lungs burning with the sudden exertion. Screwllum’s grip gets slightly tighter than before; not by much but still enough that he manages to notice it through the horrid sensation of hacking so roughly. The noise seems to rouse Ruan Mei from her sleep, seeing as she begins to stir from where she sits.
“Drink?” Stephen croaks out through all of his coughing rather than trying to get the rest of his question out in its entirety. Screwllum nods and makes a call towards someone outside of the room they are in but his focus is more so on Ruan Mei now that she is waking up from her own sleep. He’s still.. uneasy around her but the fact that she is still here makes him feel a little better at the same time.
He watches closely as she sits up properly in her chair, the blanket tumbling off of her shoulders and down into her lap with the movement. One of her hands lifts up to rub at her eyes, the motion lacking the usual elegant grace that almost all of her actions have. For a moment, he thinks back to that moment in the hallway, thinks about how her movements lacked their typical finesse–
“Oh! You’re awake already.” Ruan Mei blurts upon meeting his gaze, her hand falling into her lap as she finishes rubbing her eyes. He can feel himself begin to grow red at being caught staring but he can’t bring himself to look away as he inspects the edges of her frame. He relaxes. There are no shifting shadows at the edges of her; she is solid and real. The thought is more than a little relieving.
“Yeah. Hi.” The words are so short that they come out rude and he grimaces. Water. He wants water so he can actually speak.
Thankfully, Ruan Mei doesn’t appear to be upset about his sudden lack of manners. No, instead her eyes go soft and she’s folding her hands together atop her knees, her body leaning forward just ever so slightly.
“Does your throat still hurt?” She asks, her voice gaining more of that typical monotonous ring to it now that she’s not so surprised and he darts his tongue out to try and wet his lips. With how dry his mouth still is, the action ends up doing absolutely nothing. It makes him grimace, makes something uneasy and upset settle into his chest and he does his best to ignore it. Instead, he shakes his head.
“Observation: he was coughing due to his throat being dry. He does not seem to be in any pain currently.” Screwllum speaks up and he nods in agreement, his hair brushing against the sides of his face in the process. Annoying. He was gonna get his haircut after he got home from the space station but that man put a wrench in his plans. Though, the thought does make his mind wander to a question that he should have asked at the very moment he woke up.
“Where’s– where’s my dad?” Stephen asks suddenly, the memory of before barreling through him all of a sudden as he feels something small and tiny within him ache for him.
Surely, that wasn’t a dream, right?
He wants his father here so badly.
He feels safe in his arms.
“He’s in one of the spare rooms resting. He’s been up for days watching over you and I sent him to go sleep for his own health. Give him a few more hours and I’ll go wake him.” Screwllum responds, his voice as calm as ever and relief slams into him so hard that he can feel his eyes grow wet. He curls onto his side, suddenly feeling grateful that he’s not doing so because he’s been thrown on the floor.
“He rushed over as soon as he heard what happened.” Screwllum adds, even though Stephen can feel his head reeling as he tries to disconnect his current position from being in that room. He blinks and sniffs, feeling stray tears drip down his cheeks in the process. He can feel his face scrunch up at the sensation. Although, he feels himself relax slightly at the new information that he gives him.
“Yes, I was quite certain for a moment that he was going to attempt to fight Screwllum. He didn’t in the end but the possibility was there.” Ruan Mei adds that last part on quickly when he stares at her wide eyed. His stepfather has always been extremely patient and kind, even when he slacks off from helping with the fruit stand. The idea of him trying to fight Screwllum of all people is kind of funny. Extremely shocking but funny.
“Thankfully, your stepfather was aware that fighting me would do more harm than good. He’s scarcely left your side since.” Screwllum nods, his voice as calm and steady as ever and he can feel a small rush of air slip past his lips. Perhaps it’s a sigh, perhaps it’s a noise that can’t quite form but it escapes his mouth nonetheless. The others don’t comment on it. For that, he is immensely grateful.
For a moment, it is quiet. Then–
“Affirmation: your water should be here shortly. The medical staff have been rather disorganized lately so it is taking longer. Herta keeps nitpicking everything.” Screwllum tells him and he laughs, the noise wet and soft. There are still a few small tears rolling down his face but the water seems to have stopped gathering in his eyes now. He’ll take what he can get, even if his composure is fragile and delicate. He sniffs, the noise loud in the quiet room.
“How long have I been here?” He asks suddenly, his voice small and light as he looks at the man. He watches as the turquoise light of his optics flicker rapidly for about two seconds before they fade into their typical flicker. It’s certainly a reaction but he can’t quite figure out what exactly it means. He squints, watching the man closely and hoping that maybe he’ll find his answer before the man has to speak. He has a feeling that he’ll try to work his way around the answer with how quickly he righted himself.
“You were very injured–”
“Two and a half weeks.” Herta’s voice cuts off Screwllum’s words and he blinks in surprise, his gaze tearing away from Screwllum to the woman that is now standing in the doorway to the room. In her hand, there’s a glass cup filled with water while her other hand has found its way to her hip, a small glare found in the way that she looks over at Screwllum.
He finds that he can’t truly focus on the fact that they seem to be glaring at each other now when his mind is left reeling from her answer.
Two and a half weeks.
He’s been in this room recovering for two and a half weeks.
“Screwy, don’t beat around the bush like you were attempting to do. Stephen, I brought you the water that those medical assistants were too slow to provide in a timely manner.” Herta states and her voice is even sharper than it normally is. He thinks that maybe it's because she’s been worried lately as that sharpness snaps him out of his thoughts.
“You said that I should be more gentle with him.” Screwllum speaks up in response to Herta as she begins to walk over to his bedside; the familiar sound of her heels clicking against the metal of the floor has him relaxing. He does sound annoyed though, he thinks as he watches her slow to a stop beside where his bed is.
“You can be gentle and not slow. He’s not exactly that small of a child.” Herta huffs, her hand extending the glass of water towards him and he wastes no time in letting go of Screwllum’s hand to wrap his fingers around the glass.
His hand shakes as he takes it from Herta’s grasp and he can see the way that they all glance at him warily like they’re waiting for him to drop it. He doesn’t. No, he merely tightens his grip on the glass– whoever decided to only fill it up halfway has his appreciation because even now he still feels so weak that he can barely hold onto the glass at all.
“Thank you.” He rasps out, his voice still rough and hoarse as before. He can hear the soft hum that Herta makes in response as he shifts his weight onto his elbow of the arm that has the IV in it and he sees Screwllum lean forwards at the sight of him sitting up. He reminds himself that he is most likely just worried about him, most likely worried about the fact that he may very well spill water everywhere. He isn’t treating him like he’s fragile because he’s a child but because he is still in a medical bed.
The room grows quiet as he successfully props himself up, even if his hand and arm shake and threaten to give out beneath the sudden weight. He feels weak in a way that makes him feel small. He doesn’t like that thought, doesn’t like the way that it directs him back to how small he felt in that room with that man and he chooses to take a sudden swig of water to distract himself. It’s a not so great idea, considering the fact that it hits his throat too fast and he starts to choke on the liquid within seconds.
“Slow down.” He hears Screwllum’s voice over the sound of his own choking and he pulls the glass away from his mouth as he coughs. He feels a little bit like he did back in that room on that unfamiliar spacecraft. But no, he isn’t back there. No, he is currently on the space station– on Herta’s space station and the only reason that he’s having trouble breathing is because the water he drank went down too fast.
“Breathe. Deep breaths.” Screwllum reminds him and he nods lightly, sucking in a breath that only turns into another cough. Tears spring to his eyes from the force and for a moment he thinks that he dropped the glass with the way that he can feel the cool surface of it slip away from his fingers and palms. He expects to hear a loud crash. He doesn’t.
He lets his hand fall down to his lap, his eyes glancing over at where he had held the glass up. He finds Herta’s hand there retracting with the glass perfectly intact, not a single imperfection to be found on the surface of it. He would let out a breath of relief at that but he’s still coughing and he can’t quite stop himself from doing so just yet. A coo seems to escape one of them, though his coughing is loud enough that he can’t tell who it came from.
“My apologies. Perhaps I should have told you to prepare yourself.” Screwllum says as soon as his coughs die down and he can’t bring himself to respond with anything other than a small shaking hum. He slowly begins to lower himself back down to the mattress beneath him, letting out a soft rush of air past his lips once he’s comfortably situated against the pillow beneath his head.
“Again, you’re being too gentle with him. It probably just went down the wrong pipe or something, Screwy.” Herta sighs, exasperated, and fondness fills his chest at that familiar tone of hers. He would rather listen to this tone of hers than the phantom noises of that room that seem to linger within his ears. He ignores the disconnected feeling in his chest. It’s not important right now. No, not at all.
“Fact: you want me to maintain a balance that I do not know how to achieve.” Screwllum states, his voice certain and steady and inching more towards annoyed rather than calm and his lips twitch with a smile. He has missed this banter, has missed being here with them. Even if Ruan Mei is more quiet than usual, it is still far more normal and comforting than that cold and dark room had been.
“Yes. So maintain it.” Herta responds, her tone matter of factly and it makes him hide his face into his pillow, hide the amusement that must be clear on his expression into his pillow so that he doesn’t get dragged into their banter. He knows very well that their banter changes into arguing very quickly with very little warning. He’d rather not have to listen to their arguing right now, he thinks.
“As much as I’m sure you two would like to continue with this conversation,” Ruan Mei starts, cutting off the argument that was bound to happen if they kept going– the relief that crashes into him is far more immense than it should be– and he lifts his face out of his pillow to properly look at her. His gaze flicks over to the edges of her frame. No flickering shadows. Good. It’s her. It’s her. The thought still doesn’t seem to entirely click in his head. “Didn’t we have questions for him once he was better?”
Those words make him pause. He squints over at the woman, his head suddenly racing with the ideas of what they could possibly want to ask him. Each idea leads back to them asking about what happened when he was in that room, when he was with that man and he can feel panic suddenly surge through him. He doesn’t want to think about that man again.
“I don’t think he’s settled enough to answer any questions currently, Ruan Mei.” Screwllum observes and his fingers twitch where the man’s own are wrapped around them. He hopes that they’ll simply go with that and not make him have to remember all of the fear and pain he wants to forget about already. He supposes that such is wishful thinking.
“We do have to ask soon though. The IPC won’t stop nagging me about getting the full story. The moment they find out he’s awake enough to give it and we haven’t been asking, they’ll just come here and do it themselves.” Herta sighs and her words make him feel meek. He finds himself leaning further into his bed, finds his muscles tensing at the thought. He doesn’t want to be made to do anything. Especially not now.
“Do I have to answer questions?” The question falls from his lips before he can truly think about it and he can’t help the way that he shrinks back when they all turn to look at him. He doesn’t like attention but he finds that he doesn’t like this specific attention even more. It makes him squirm, makes him direct his gaze down to his hand that is still held by Screwllum’s own, nervousness bitter on his tongue.
“Eventually, yes.” Screwllum answers after a moment of silence from everyone in the room and he bites his cheek as he feels dread settle in the pit of his stomach. He doesn’t want to think about what happened back then, doesn’t want to even remember it at all. He wants to forget that this all ever happened and just continue on like it never happened.
“As we’ve stated however; you do not need to do so right now. Hypothesis: you have about a week to prepare yourself to answer any questions.” He continues, his voice gentle and calm and so unlike how he currently feels. He feels like he’s slowly beginning to sink, feels like he can feel the walls closing in because he’s going to have to think about something he does not want to think about.
He bites his cheek even harder than before. The taste of copper floods his mouth. It makes his lips twitch with distaste and he swallows thickly around the sudden liquid in his mouth, feeling the way that it trickles down his throat. He focuses on that, on the fact that his mouth is still kind of dry rather than the fact that he will have to remember the pain and fear soon again. His heart still races within his chest.
“Can I..” Stephen finds himself trailing off before he can even finish speaking. His teeth find the small mark in his cheek and returns to biting it, something within him both displeased and relieved at the pain. He doesn’t know what to make of that. What he does know however is that he should certainly finish his question. “Can I just tell you guys? Get it over with.”
For a moment, it is silent. For a moment, he has to deal with their gazes stuck on him with unblinking certainty and it makes his stomach do something funny from nervousness.
He’s about to backtrack, about to tell them to just forget that he even said anything but–
“Answer: of course.” Screwllum’s voice is calm and steady and he clings to the sound of it in the sudden silence of the room.
Herta sighs.
“Yes, we’re all willing to listen. Just don’t think you have to say anything right now.” Her voice is as sharp as it normally is but there’s something soft in there too, something that she typically only reserves for when she’s trying to get him to speak to more than one person, that she used when getting him to talk to the Trailblazer. It makes him feel small.
“You may start talking at any time; whenever you’re ready.” Ruan Mei tells him and when he flicks his gaze over to her, there’s a small and sweet smile on her face. The sight of her still makes him feel unsettled but he manages to smile back at her anyways.
“Question: would you like us to ask questions or would you rather recount your own version of what occurred?” Screwllum inquires with a soft tilt of his head, his monocle catching the light in the process and glinting lightly. He focuses on that rather than all of their gazes as he thinks over the question. He doesn’t want to have to remember everything again but–
“I’ll just tell you guys what happened.” He decides. He doesn’t want to have to remember everything again but he has to anyway so he might as well clear everything up in one fell swoop. He’s not too sure of whether or not that is actually the best idea here but he’s already chosen to do so and it seems like the only option he has. He has to choose one after all. At least they’re all here. They won’t let him get lost to the memories of pain and fear.
He takes a deep breath. He feels his lungs expand on the inhale and the way they revert with the exhale. He focuses on that, chooses to focus on how it feels instead of the phantom sensation of pain and fear that still wants to grip him by the heart. Their claws are sharp and growing near every time he thinks about what happened but this is preferred over being questioned by total strangers.
“Ruan Mei had left to go check on what was happening but she took longer than she said she would so I..” Stephen swallows, feeling the nervousness within him far too acutely with every single word that he speaks. He can still see all of their eyes on him, even with the way that his own gaze is directed to his hand being held by Screwllum’s own. He squirms.
“I went to check what happened.” He finishes, resisting the urge to simply stop talking entirely and bury his head into his pillow. Even if this part of the recount isn’t absolutely plagued by fear and pain, he can still remember the paranoia and nervousness; can still taste them on his tongue. His fingers twitch. He doesn’t like thinking about what happened at all; not even the parts that were relatively okay.
Screwllum gently squeezes his hand, his head tilting in a ‘go on’ gesture. He continues.
“I was.. walking. Honestly, I don’t remember much of that part. Nothing was.. nothing was sticking.” Stephen admits, feeling the way that his own shoulders tense beneath the memory. It’s true. Now that he looks back at it, he’s unsure if the room even exited into a hallway at all. The thought is jarring in the worst way possible. It makes his head hurt just thinking about it. He doesn’t like it.
“Hypothesis: you were already affected by the True Stings’ hallucinogens.” Screwllum speaks up, his thumb swiping over his inner wrist and all he can manage to do in response is hum softly. He supposes that such a hypothesis is very much possible but it does little to help calm his rapidly racing heart. Perhaps the man can tell, with the way that his free hand lifts up to rest on his knee. It’s nice, he thinks. Comforting, even, if he ignores the way that it’s not comforting enough to fully dispel his unease.
“I do remember that during that time..” He finds himself trailing off once again. He hates it. He is more than capable of talking now that his voice is no longer so hoarse and his throat feels much better than before and yet he still can’t talk right. All that’s holding him back now are his own emotions.
“It doesn’t have to be a detailed explanation, Stephen. You can skip some things for now, if that’s easier.” Herta tells him, her voice growing soft and he curls onto his side. He feels small like this; when they are talking to him with such gentleness and treating him with even more care than they usually do. It’s different from when he felt small with that man however. It’s.. softer. Comforting.
He shakes his head.
He wants to tell them.
“I remember that after I exited the room, I ran into Ruan Mei after walking for a while.” Stephen continues, his voice wavering slightly as his gaze instinctively snaps over to where she sits in the chair. He knows that it’s foolish, that it is the real her sitting there but something inside him still thinks that she’s going to somehow change into that man again. His heartbeat can be felt in his throat.
At this revelation, the room falls silent.
Screwllum’s optics have started to brighten; still zeroed in on him and Herta is now staring at Ruan Mei. Ruan Mei is now staring directly at him. He doesn’t like the sudden tension that has come over the room.
“I see.” Ruan Mei speaks after a beat. He can’t parse what her tone means.
Herta clears her throat, though when she next speaks, she’s still looking at Ruan Mei.
“What happened next, Stephen?”
“I– um.. She said that she was heading back to get me. I followed her.” He tells them, trying not to let his voice shake as he thinks about it, as he thinks about him and the way that his touch had been too tight. He does not mention hugging that illusion, does not mention that he just wanted her and wanted to feel safe. They don’t need to know that, it’s not important to the story. At least, he doesn’t think it is.
“I understand why you thought that was a smart decision at the time. I’m sorry it went awry.” Ruan Mei speaks up, her voice as even as it always is and he thinks that he detects some distaste in it. He has to force himself to not curl up even further. It is Ruan Mei. The real Ruan Mei. The real Ruan Mei doesn’t hold distaste for him and she never would. She’s probably just.. upset that someone used her image like that.
Yes, it’s probably that.
He swallows around the saliva in his mouth and chooses to continue on with the story rather than respond to her.
“She said– she said something.” Stephen recalls though he’s very quickly realizing that he doesn’t actually remember what exactly she said. He knows that back then, it had been enough for him to figure out that he had been affected by the True Stings’ hallucinogens but he can’t seem to remember just what it was that was said.
He tells them as much.
He watches as something worried crosses over Herta and Ruan Mei’s faces, their gazes now back on him. He shrinks beneath the weight of their stares.
“Hypothesis: the reason for your lack of memory of such an event could be because of the Hallucinogens affecting you. We haven’t been able to do much research on all of the side effects but it’s certainly a higher possibility than others.” Screwllum hums and he blinks at him. His mind lags behind for a moment before it clicks.
“Oh.” Is all he offers.
“None of your other memories have been affected, right?” Herta asks quickly, leaning down so that she can look closer at him like she can physically check his memories and he finds himself leaning away.
Too close, he thinks.
“Um. No, I don’t think so?” He offers in response but he doubts that it will do much to soothe her with how unsure he sounds even to his own ears.
At the very least, she accepts the answer and leans back up.
“Well, if you find lapses in your memory from before this or even after when your recovery is finished, you tell me, okay?” Herta states and her tone is so firm and concrete that he’s helpless to do anything other than nod. She seems happy about that, given the way that she breathes out more heavily than normal.
“Back to the topic at hand–”
“Screwy–”
“I’m certain he was getting there–”
“After she said what she said,” Stephen speaks up abruptly, his volume raising higher than he thinks it ever has in the presence of people who aren’t family to be heard over the sound of them arguing and it’s apparently shocking enough that they all cease their talking at once. Attention that was slowly beginning to divide suddenly hones in on him and he does his best to not squirm beneath their gazes.
“I realized that she was a hallucination caused by the True Stings. I started running. I didn’t– I didn’t really know where I was going, I just.. ran.” He continues, choosing to avert his gaze from all of their gazes by looking at the metal of the door. It’s not an interesting door by any means, nor is it any different from the other doors on the space station but he prefers it over having to look directly at their stares right now.
“I got to the door,” Stephen doubts that he has to tell them which door, he’s certain that they can understand that he’s talking about the door they opened and caught him being taken through. By the way that their faces grow upset, he knows that he is right. Though, he’s not too sure if Screwllum’s upset. His optics have dimmed in a way they never have before however, so he’s willing to bet that he’s upset. The thought settles wrong in his stomach.
“I got to the door and he grabbed me before I could get through it.” Stephen tells them, his fingers twitching with the desire to have something to fidget with. There is nothing to fidget with however so he has to settle for holding onto Screwllum’s hand even tighter than before. If he notices, he doesn’t say anything about it. “I panicked.”
He bites his cheek, thinking hard about what happened next. Truthfully, his memory seems more fuzzy than it should be. The things that occurred seem to all blend together, making it hard to remember just what happened first and what happened last. Did he hurt his nose first or was that what happened last? He has to take a moment to remember.
“You do not need to continue if you–”
“It’s fine.” Stephen interrupts Screwllum before he can continue. “I was just.. thinking.”
He gets a soft hum in response.
“I panicked because he had put his hand over my mouth too.” He mutters, his voice just as displeased as he feels. He takes a moment to breathe, takes a moment to try and calm himself down before he manages to get lost to the fear and memories that are trying to overtake him. He’s safe. He’s with them now and they won’t let anything bad happen to him again. The security upgrades only prove that.
“I bit him. I fell after, I think. Hurt my nose.” His words are short, he knows that but he’s trying his best to not lose himself and his memories of that time are foggy at best. His fingers twitch but he does not move his hand to brush against his nose. It’s obviously doing better now if he can breathe through it, there’s no need to survey any damage when there isn’t any damage there at all anymore.
It’s quiet for a moment. The lack of any sort of noise besides all of their breathing makes him panic.
Before he can speak up however–
“Ah. We had assumed that he had been the direct cause of your nose injury.” Screwllum states, his tone oddly blank and he directs his gaze over to solely him and notes that his optics are bright and solid. They do not flicker, do not dim. They are one solid color and far brighter than they normally are. He doesn’t quite know what to make of that.
“No. I landed on my face.” Stephen explains– confirms even though the man’s words weren’t even a question. He’s nervous. He talks and fumbles with his responses when he is nervous. He hears Herta let out a sigh from beside him.
“Well, Screwy, you were right. He most likely did have a concussion back there.” Herta sounds more than a little upset about that and he can feel his eyes widen at that. A concussion.
He had– has?– a concussion?
“That’s not good, right?” Stephen is almost entirely certain that it is not in fact good but he would like to cling onto the hope that he is fine and that a concussion is just a minor thing.
“Consulation: you appear to have already healed from it. There is no need to worry about it.” Screwllum tells him, his voice gentle and soft as he swipes his thumb along the lines of his veins within his inner wrist. He notes that he’s a little paler than before. Probably because of how long he’s been in here without any sunlight. At the very least, the man’s words make his shoulders relax. He’s fine. Everything is fine.
“After that, the hallucinogens wore off.” Stephen continues on, deciding to not linger on the fact that he apparently had a head injury that he can’t truly remember much of. He also decides to not tell them about how relieved he is that the hallucinogens were off at the time because he doesn’t think that he would be able to handle seeing Ruan Mei if that man had been wearing her visage when he had scared and hurt him so very badly.
“You do not need to describe him. He’s already been dealt with.” Screwllum explains, something almost smug in his voice. It confuses him, to be completely honest but he keeps his questions to himself for now. He wants to finish this recount so he never has to think about it again.
Instead he merely nods.
“He grabbed me. His grip was too tight. It hurt.” Stephen continues, his heart beginning to pick up its pace from within the confines of his chest and he tries to ignore it. He takes a deep breath in through his nose and he exhales slowly through his mouth. It helps, even if it is only a little bit. He’ll take something small over nothing right now just so he doesn’t get lost to the memories of pain and fear.
“I remember you guys opening the door. I remember but only a bit and then..” Stephen trails off, his voice fading into nothingness as he thinks. He remembers that time when they stood in the doorway, when the man had squeezed him so hard that he passed out. He’s certain that he doesn’t need to recount that. They all seem to recall that, especially when he glances around and observes the grim looks on their faces and the dimmed optics of Screwllum.
“Then I woke up on that man’s ship.” He exhales, feeling the air rush past his lips. He hones in on that, focuses on the way that he can hear the beeping of whatever medical equipment that he is currently hooked up to and the fact that he wouldn’t hear such a noise on that ship in that cold and dark room that was far more quiet than what was comforting. He’s not there anymore. He’s on the space station surrounded by the others with his stepfather only a bit away sleeping because he was so worried about him that he had refused to do so. He’s safe.
“He had me in a room that was dark and cold. There was nothing in there. It was just me.” He tells them, his voice wavering the longer he speaks. He swallows around the lump in his throat and licks his lips, trying to focus on the sensation of his tongue dragging against the harsh surface of his chapped lips to distract him from thinking about anything else. It does little to actually work.
“I don’t know how long I was in there before..” Stephen trails off again as he tries to collect the fragmented pieces of his memory and he can feel tears of frustration spring to his eyes. He just wants to get this done and over with but he keeps having to pause to sift through all of his memories and it’s making him take even longer than need be to tell them everything. He sniffs, hoping that his tears don’t fall.
He is more than aware of the fact that if his tears fall then they will start to comfort him and he will get too choked up to be able to speak at all. A hand settles on his knee as the bed dips to the side and he turns his head enough to make eye contact with Herta; who immediately smiles down at him once she notices his gaze. He does his best to return it. With how her lips twitch, he feels as though it came out as more of a grimace than anything else.
“He came into the room eventually. I don’t know how long I was asleep for before then though.” He finishes, feeling a little proud of himself for finally getting those words out. Herta’s fingers stroke his knee encouragingly as Screwllum’s thumb continues its gentle motions. It does well to have that lump in his throat slowly begin to dissolve. He feels a little better. He’ll take what he can get.
“He wanted something from me.” The words are shaky. They come out shaky because now he can’t do anything other than remember the pain and fear and near hopelessness that he felt when he was alone in that room with that man who was much more cruel than anyone else he has ever met. He can feel Herta’s hand tighten slightly around his knee and Screwllum’s thumb falters in its movements. Out of the corner of his eyes, he can see Ruan Mei tense.
“What did he want from you?” He hears Ruan Mei ask, her voice tense and light all at once and he swears that he can hear it waver slightly. His brows furrow.
He remembers that the man wanted him to hack something but he doesn’t remember if he ever told him what he wanted him to hack.
“He wanted me to hack something. I think.. I think he wanted me to bring down a firewall? I think he was gonna make me do more afterwards though.” He explains, bringing the arm that doesn’t have an IV in it around his stomach and tucking his hand beneath him. He feels a bit safer when he is so curled up like this, he finds. Though, his fingers on his other hand curl around Screwllum’s arm. He’s attached to him now and he doubts that anyone is strong enough to tear him away. He’s safe and he’s not going anywhere.
The tension seems to slowly begin to seep out of the room at that.
“He was.” Screwllum confirms his suspicions, his voice unwavering but gentle and soft in a way that puts him at ease. Normally, he bristles at being treated like he’s fragile. However, normally, he doesn’t actually feel like he is fragile. He can’t bring himself to bristle at behavior that makes him feel more safe and calm than it does to make him feel looked down upon.
He does make an inquisitive sound though, curious to know how the man knows that.
“We found the plans of what he meant to do in one of his ship’s rooms.” Screwllum explains, tilting his head to the side in that familiar way he always does when he speaks to people. He thinks that it is because of his lack of facial features; that he’s trying to express himself through body language because he can’t express himself through facial expressions. He doesn’t dare ask though.
“We can see the cogs turning in your brain, Stephen.” Herta laughs, the sound quiet and gentle and it makes his chest feel lighter even though his cheeks grow red. He hadn’t thought that he was thinking that hard..
“Long story short; he was trying to hack into Planet Screwllum and find the layouts to some of the Screwllumites.” Herta sighs out, the words rushing past her lips far too casually for what she just said.
Stephen can feel his eyes widen as he stares at her, surprise running through his veins.
He wanted him to hack into Planet Screwllum?
“Do not worry. Fact: he was apprehended before he could do anything. We suspect that he meant to continue with his work once he escaped our sights–”
“Like that would ever happen. He should’ve known that he wouldn’t have been able to escape my sight. Especially with my fellow Genius.”
He smiles at Herta’s words. He angles his legs more towards her.
“Yes. Conclusion: it was an incredibly foolish thought on his part. Regardless, he wasn’t able to get any information.” Screwllum finishes, one of his hands lifting to settle by his knees as his other one remains occupied with holding onto his hand. It’s comforting in a way that he can’t explain.
“Besides, even if you did get through the firewall, there’s no way that you would have gotten through everything else. Even I’d have a hard time making my way through all of that code.” Herta hums, her fingers gentle as they stroke his knee.
“After that,” He begins, trying to stop the small amount of amusement that trickles into his chest from trickling into his voice as he speaks. He must not do a great job, seeing as Screwllum’s optics flicker in the usual way they do when he’s amused and Herta’s lips curl into a wider smile. He notes that Ruan Mei looks a bit more relaxed too, even if she’s more silent than she normally is.
“He left me in the room. He thought that I wouldn’t try to find a way to escape.” The light feeling in his chest disappears at that. He remembers it perhaps a little too well; the way that both fear and relief crashed into him at once in a way that felt suffocating. Though, with how he couldn’t breathe through his nose, perhaps those feelings weren’t the cause of the suffocating feeling he had suffered through.
“Of course he didn’t. That man is nothing but a fool. Even Mundanites on average are smarter than him.” Herta scoffs, annoyance sparking in her tone and the words roll off of her tongue like she just can’t help but to insult that man. It makes him smile, admittedly, though he hides it by burying his face into the plushness of his pillow as he takes another deep breath.
“Obviously, I didn’t not try to escape. I remember that I sent you guys the coordinates but I don’t really remember how..” He does not remember the way he did it. All he knows is that he had a laptop in his hands and fear and panic coursing through his veins that led to a decision that had a chance to end both badly and well. He does not remember the process to the point that he could be fooled into thinking that it never happened if not for where he is and what happened afterwards.
That he remembers all too well.
“I remember what happened after though.” He admits, forcing the words out of his mouth despite the way that his tongue suddenly feels far too heavy in his mouth. He feels gentle hands squeeze at his knee and give a particularly firm swipe over his inner wrist, and hears the soft noise that Ruan Mei makes in acknowledgement towards his words. He swallows thickly. He’s here, he reminds himself.
“He– he came back into the room later. I don’t– my mind was fuzzy. I don’t know how long it took for him to find out.” He tells them, his voice wavering like it wants to give out. The memory of how messed up his own internal clock had been back then makes unease settle into his stomach like it had never even left in the first place. He hates it. He does his best to not focus on the feeling.
“I assume he didn’t react well?” Screwllum offers up in response and he’s almost certain that it is merely to keep the conversation going, considering the fact that he saw him afterwards with how he was the one to take him away from that place. His teeth dig deeper into his cheek as he nods, something nervous settling beside the unease in his stomach. He feels flighty. He doesn’t like it at all.
“No, he didn’t.” His voice shakes. His voice shakes and he cannot stop it from doing so as he tries to continue to keep calm, as he tries to ignore the way that he can feel his heart speed up from within the confines of his chest. He can feel Herta’s thumb begin to stroke over his knee. He leans into it, angles his leg in a way that makes it feel a bit more comfortable.
“If you need a break, it is of no problem.” Ruan Mei speaks up, her voice gentle and calm and it makes him feel at war with the way it makes both unease and comfort shoot through him at once. He lets his eyes flutter closed, lets his lips part to take a deep breath in through his mouth in an attempt to try and calm himself down. It’s her and he knows that and he can do this. He just needs to stay calm.
He shakes his head.
“I’m just thinking.” Technically, it’s not a lie. He is thinking, thinking about how it played out and the way that he is going to word it. He was also just not speaking because he can’t stop himself from falling deeper into those memories of pain and fear. He breathes out through his mouth and shifts his face out of his pillow. He hopes that he doesn’t look as messy as he feels.
“After he found out; he was very upset.” He murmurs, like speaking any louder will break this safety that he has found himself in and he will find himself face to face with that man’s anger once more. It makes his head threaten to pound. He squirms beneath the weight of their gazes, the way that they are all looking directly at him with intensity that he typically only sees them give to their projects.
“He– uh. He grabbed me by my shirt.” He stammers, his heart quickening at the thought of the man’s harsh touch.
“He threw me onto the floor. I think I hit my head again.” The words rush out of him as his gaze darts down to the white sheets beneath him. They look soft and comforting and so very unlike that dark room that he was stuck in.
“He wanted to know what I told you guys. But he– he stepped on my neck.” Stephen breathes out, his voice shaking like the leaves of the trees that surround his house. He wants to go back home to that house where he has never been taken away against his will, where there has never been any fear of being hurt because there is nowhere safer than there. He bites back the sound that wants to escape his mouth.
“I couldn’t really breathe. It hurt.” He swallows around the lump in his throat, his hand coming out from where it’s been tucked beneath him to wrap lightly around his throat. It serves as a reminder that he can breathe easily right now, that the touch upon it is his own and there is no foot pressing down on it. Just his own fingers and palm that are far more warm than the shoe that had pressed down on it.
“That certainly aligns with the state that your neck was in when we found you.” Screwllum notes; something in his tone nearly gravelly but he’s too distracted by the swirl of emotions in his chest to think about what it could mean. No, he merely runs his fingers along his neck once again, trying to keep in mind the fact that they did find him, that he is here and not in that room. He is safe.
“Was it bad?” He finds himself asking rather than continuing on with the story and he watches out of the corner of his eyes as they all exchange glances with one another. It’s a silent confirmation that they most likely don’t mean for him to catch. It makes the unease within his chest even worse, makes it feel like it is trying to crawl its way out of him and he can do very little to stop it.
“It was..” Stephen doesn’t think he has ever heard Screwllum trail off. He has always had his words prepared before he starts speaking and even if he hadn’t, he speaks with such certainty and confidence that he has never been able to tell otherwise. To hear him trail off like that makes him all too aware of the fact that the state of his neck must have been bad. He doesn’t know how to feel about it.
“Your injuries were very minimal for what had occurred. However,” Ruan Mei begins, starting to say what Screwllum apparently cannot. It draws his gaze over to her as his fingers delicately squeeze around his throat, as he reminds himself that he controls the pressure and the pain that has not yet blossomed beneath his own touch. He reminds himself that it is her as he checks the edges of her frame.
“Despite the fact that you didn’t have many injuries, they were very severe. Your throat especially. There was so much damage that the healing process would have taken a month or two.” Ruan Mei explains, something sympathetic swimming in her eyes and he can’t tell if it makes him feel better or worse. He knows that her words however do make him feel worse. He didn’t think that his throat was injured that badly. It makes his fingers twitch with discomfort.
“Using some of my own research as foundation, I was able to speed up the healing process.” Ruan Mei tilts her head to the side as she speaks, her hair falling over her shoulder and it is only now that he realizes that it is out of its normal style. The thought of her being here for so long that she had to take her hair down and the thought of her using her own research on him makes him feel small. It’s nice. Nicer than the other feelings she has been making him feel.
“Thank you.” Stephen finds that his voice is far more quiet than they should be all of a sudden and taps his fingers against his throat in a tuneless rhythm nervously. The others must take notice but they do not make any sort of comment about it, do not even bring it up at all. He is thankful. It would be.. hard to explain to them why he wants his fingers there at all, especially after what happened to him.
“Back to the story?” Herta hums softly after a bit, one of her brows raising in question as she gazes down at him and he knows that’s what it is; just a question. However, he finds that it does feel a bit like doom, something bitter settling on his tongue.
“Yeah.” He agrees breathlessly, air coming into his lungs just a bit too shallowly for him to respond normally.
He swallows.
“He– I think he grabbed me again after that.” Stephen continues on, his voice still wavering and light as his lungs fail to take in deep breaths like he has been trying to do to keep calm. He finds that his voice has also pitched upwards, that it has started to edge closer into being a whine than anything else. He doesn’t know how to feel about it so he does what he knows how to do; just ignore it.
“I said something. I don’t remember what. I think he wanted to know something but the memory’s too fuzzy and my ears were ringing–” He’s far too aware of the fact that he is rambling. He is rambling because he is nervous and he needs to fill the air with some noise because he can hear the sound of his own quick heart beating loudly in his ears and it reminds him of the way it was doing just that in that room.
“My memory of this part is–” He thinks of pain. He thinks of pain and fear and the fuzziness of his head. He thinks of the way that the floor had been wet and cold beneath him and– “I don’t really remember what happened.”
“Stephen–” Herta starts but he can do this, he can finish this story–
“He– uh– he slapped me. Grabbed my hair. Pulled it. I don’t remember the order. Just– it hurt. It hurt and then next thing I knew Screwllum was already there and–”
He sucks a shuddering breath in.
He finds that his face is wet again. For a moment, he almost believes that his nose has started bleeding again like he’s still in that room whilst so badly injured but he reminds himself that he is at the space station. He is at the space station so the reason for his wet face is–
A cry slips past his lips.
Oh. He’s crying.
His face is wet because he’s crying and now that he has realized it, the tears won’t stop and they just keep flowing down his face–
There’s a hand on his cheek.
His eyes shoot open– when did he even close them?– and he comes face to face with Herta.
“Stephen,” Her voice is so gentle that it makes his heart ache. Her hand lifts off of his knee and he whines at the loss of touch, at the loss of safety but she just shushes him gently as he wails.
Her fingers oh so carefully wrap around his own, around the ones that are wrapped tightly around his neck. He thinks that there’s something wet beneath them. He wonders why as she carefully guides his hand away from his neck and up to her chest, pressing his palm against her skin right where her heart rests. It is then that he realizes why his hand was wet.
There’s blood on his fingers. The red liquid is covering his fingers and beneath his nails and the way that Herta’s hand keeps his own pressed against her only makes the blood smear into her skin. Something within him panics at the sight, despite the fact that he can feel her heart beating perfectly fine beneath his palm.
“Breathe. Deep breaths; like this.” Herta tells him, his world zeroing down to just her with the way that she’s leaning over him, with the way that her hair creates a curtain around him and blocks off his view of the rest of the room, with the way that her hand is pressing to his cheek and her other hand is pressing his own to her chest, her heartbeat felt with every second that passes. He whines.
He can feel her chest rise and fall with every breath that she takes but he can’t help the way that his focus is on her skin, on the way that his blood is smeared there. He doesn’t like the sight of blood. He really doesn’t like the sight of blood on Herta especially. He takes a deep breath in– a reflex more than anything else– and it chokes him within just seconds. He sobs without even meaning to.
“It’s okay. Stephen, it’s okay. Just breathe as best as you can.” Her voice is like a balm, a gentle respite from the sight of his blood on her skin, from the way that he can hear his heart beating far too fast in his ears. He tries to follow her words; her instructions by taking a deep breath in but it shakes and breaks off at the very end. He sobs, the sound loud even over his own heartbeat.
“It’s okay. Try again.” Herta tells him, her thumb swiping over his cheek oh so gently as she does so and he can’t help the way that he leans into it, the way that he wishes that she will never let him go. Tears slide down his face as he tries to breathe deeply once again, actually managing to succeed in doing so this time around. It shakes and wavers but he succeeds. It makes a small smile appear on Herta’s lips.
“There you go. Just keep trying for me.” Her voice is as gentle as can be and it only makes his tears fall harder, only makes them form far faster than they were doing so beforehand. Perhaps she can notice, with the way that her face twitches in that familiar way it always does but perhaps she doesn’t. It makes him feel better to believe the latter rather than the former so he chooses to believe in the latter.
He sucks in another breath and it shakes on the inhale and breaks off on the exhale when a cry breaks through his lips instead. He whines, thrashes because he’s frustrated and everything is too much but Herta simply shushes him, simply swipes her thumb over his cheek and wipes his tears away despite the fact that it is fruitless with how they are still falling. He leans into her touch regardless.
“It’s alright, Stephen. You’re doing just fine, just keep breathing, okay?” Her voice being so soft and her boxing him in makes him feel so very small in her arms. It is unlike when he felt small in that room with that cruel man. No, this is gentle and warm and safe and he thinks that it makes him cry even harder than before. It only makes it harder to listen to her words, makes it harder to follow her words.
He inhales sharply and chokes. He coughs and gasps and tries again. This time, the breath goes in and does not break off. He focuses on the feeling of Herta’s chest rising and falling with each steady breath that she takes and he does his best to copy those breaths, to make his chest rise and fall like hers. His breathing stutters as he exhales but it does not break off nor cause him to choke.
“Good job. Just like that.” Herta mutters oh so very softly at his success of a breath and he tries not to focus on how tiny he feels in her grasp, tries to only focus on breathing instead. Her thumb strokes over his cheek gently as the thumb on her other hand carefully strokes over his knuckles. It makes him feel safe, like nothing can possibly go wrong when he is within her hold. His heart begins to calm down.
He loses track of how long they stay like this: the seconds all passing by in one big blur of purple and gentle words until he can finally breathe again without any help.
“Feel better?” Herta asks softly, something fond and endeared in her voice and the small crinkle of her eyes as she looks down at him.
Sniffling, he nods.
Herta smiles oh so tenderly down at him that he can feel his heart ache from within his chest, a few stray tears that still cling to his lashes falling down the curve of his cheeks. Her hands let go of his cheek and his own hand and he has to bite into the meat of his cheek to resist letting out a whine. There’s no need for her to be holding him anymore; he’s no longer crying and it makes sense that she’s moving away from him. Still, something discomforted settles in his heart.
He watches as the curtain of her hair lifts away as she settles back into sitting on the edge of his bed, as he lets his hand fall into his lap.
He takes a deep breath and glances between Ruan Mei and Screwllum.
Screwllum’s optics have dimmed slightly, barely noticeable if not for how intently he has observed them because of his lack of facial features. His posture is still straight and perfect and his hand is still wrapped around his own but his optics are dimmed in a way that they normally aren’t.
Ruan Mei has a look on her face that he can’t entirely parse. She looks.. vaguely upset. Her posture is no longer straight and she’s holding the glass of water that Herta got for him, her back slouched forward in a way that is so improper that he feels like laughing because he never thought he would see Ruan Mei so improper.
“That’s it.” He laughs, though it’s rather humorless and it’s wet from how saliva has pooled in his mouth from all of his crying. His breathing shakes and trembles and he has to swallow the saliva back down. He licks his lips, nervous and relieved and only a little bit afraid now. He’s here, he’s safe. That fear can simply go away. He doesn’t need to listen to it, he won’t be hurt if he doesn’t. “That’s the story. The whole story– that I can remember at least.”
“Thank you for telling us.” Screwllum says suddenly, his optics brightening to a light that’s so bright that he has to redirect his gaze to Herta to avoid squinting at him. He hums softly in response, his chest light and no longer swirling with an amalgamation of horrid feelings that made him feel terribly small. He has missed this. He has missed not being so scared. He relishes in this soft safety.
“Thank you for finding me.” He responds instead of anything else that would most likely be much more right to say in response to that. Despite that fact, he can see the way that the man’s optics flicker rapidly in that familiar way that they do when he is happy and he can see Herta and Ruan Mei smile at his words.
“Of course.” Screwllum replies.
“It was of no problem.” Ruan Mei speaks.
“There was never anything else to do. You take first priority.” Herta admits and he can feel himself tear up once more.
“Can– can someone get my stepfather? I want him.” He asks before silence can manage to settle into the air between them and he lets out a soft breath afterwards that is far too close to a sigh for his liking. He can see Screwllum’s optics flicker at his words as Herta reaches down to toy with his hair– he leans into it– and Ruan Mei nods politely once before she stands.
He watches as she moves towards the door with only one thought in mind;
He is so very glad to be on the space station.