Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Gregor didn't dislike the farm. He didn't dislike that he had his own room and that his dad was finally-- finally --seeming to take inching steps towards recovery. He disliked waking up in the middle of the night in a bed with too much space and in a room with too much room. He disliked waking up on the farm because that meant it was just another day he wouldn't be able to go back. Sometimes, he allowed himself to wish. He wished he could’ve stayed because Ripred would surely be able to help with the nightmares, even if he complained about it. Luxa would help by being there. But they were both miles and miles away, both across the earth and below it, and there weren't any entries to the Underland here. He still wished, though. 

##

“Gregor!”

With a shriek and a pounce onto his chest, Boots was patting his cheek, hands sticky with what smelled like maple syrup. Gregor accepted it all with a laugh, pushing her off gently. 

“I’m up, Boots. What is it?”
“Lizzie said to come get you.” Boots says, sitting back on his stomach. 

Gregor groans, but nods. “Go tell her I’ll be down in a minute.”
With a beaming smile, Boots jumps off of him, and runs down the hall, the sound of her thumping footsteps echoing through the house. Laying back, Gregor tries to remember the dream he had been having. It had been one of the better ones. Where he and Luxa had been together again. More often than sometimes, it was one of the bad ones though. 

Shaking his head to rid himself of the unpleasant memories, Gregor gets up and dresses in his unofficial uniform, which consisted of a long sleeve shirt and jeans. Not his choice. But if he wants to avoid the questions and curious looks, long sleeves and pants had to be worn. It didn't do much for the scars on his face, but those were easier to explain. The salve the Underland doctors had given him had eventually run out, so the scars stuck. Sometimes he could get away with wearing short sleeves around the house, but he saw how his mom and everyone else looked at his arms. He knew his mom hated the ones from the giant squid the most. He knew she hated that he had scars at all, but it had really been all his choice in the end. To go back. To protect the Underland. To protect Luxa. Though she didn't need the protection. 

Reaching into his pocket, Gregor finds the picture he keeps on himself at all times, unfolding it carefully. The joints were already soft and fraying after one too many foldings, but he held onto it still. It had a younger version of himself and Luxa in it; smiling sadly at the camera. With a sigh, he folds the picture back up, and tucks it back into his pocket before going downstairs. 

~

Boots is shoveling pancakes into her mouth, while Lizzie only pokes at them, taking the occasional bite. When Lizzie spots him, she perks up, smiling. 

“Gregor!”
“Hey, Lizzie.” He says with a tired smile. “What’s up?”
“I finished that book you got me. Do you think, um...if you get a chance…”
He ruffles her hair, laughing. “Yeah. I gotta go out anyway. I’ll try to find something.”
Her smile widens, and she giggles. “Thank you!”
Gregor pulls on his jacket, shoving his feet into the shoes waiting by the door. 

“Wait--” Lizzie starts. 

“Gregor!” Boots squeals, jumping down from her chair, and running to wrap her arms tightly around his leg.

“What?” 

“You have to eat!” She insists. “It’s important.”
“I’m not hungry, Boots. I’ll eat when I get back, alright?”
“But--!”
“Boots,” Lizzie says quietly. “It’s okay. He won't forget to eat.”

Boots releases his leg, returning sullenly to her pancakes, but Gregor can't seem to muster up more than a little bit of guilt. It was going to be one of those days, then. 

“I’m going.”
The door slams behind him. 

##

It was cold outside, but not cold enough that the walk to the bookstore was miserable. His hands are growing warm in his pockets, and he’s dimly aware that the slick heat feels like blood. Gregor swears quietly as he wipes his hands on his jeans, refusing to think of all the actual, very real blood that had stained his hands years before. That still did, even if no one but him could see it. 

Pushing open the door to the bookstore, the bell jingles, and Gregor isn't sure if he should scream or not, because that’s Hazard standing behind the counter.

“Can I help you?”
Gregor blinks, swallowing hard, shaking his head. “No. Sorry.”
No, because that wasn't Hazard. His skin was too dark, eyes not nearly as vibrant. Gregor heads to the back of the stacks, to the table piled high with discounted books. He shifts through them halfheartedly to try and find a puzzle book for Lizzie, smiling slightly when he finds a crossword one. He tucks it under his arm, and begins to wander the stacks. On bad days, he needed the quiet. 

##

“...Mr. Campbell!”

Jolting from his thoughts, Gregor looks up at his teacher, heat scorching his face. 

“W-what?”
“I asked for the answer to number eight.”
He looks up at the board hesitantly, knowing he won't be able to solve it. That would’ve required him to pay attention for the past three lessons. The numbers and variables on the board make no sense to him, so, with increasing embarrassment, he looks at a point past his teacher’s shoulder, and clears his throat slightly. 

“I can't.”

A disappointed look is the only thing he sees before his gaze is back to the grainy wooden tabletop of the desk, where various things have been drawn by other kids over the years. He wonders if they ever clean them. From the looks of it, probably not. Gregor wasn't normally one to write on the desks, but he finds himself picking up his pencil and carefully scratching the word ‘Ares’ onto the desktop. Ares. His beloved bond, who had been killed by the Bane. His fault. It was his fault Ares was dead, and would never come back. With a swipe of his thumb, the name is reduced to a smudge on the tabletop, and then he tries--really tries--to pay attention, but he can't. Gregor raises his hand to which the teacher sighs, nodding to him. 

“Yes?”
“Can I go to the bathroom?”
“...Yes.”
He jumps up, snagging his backpack strap as he runs from the room, and into the hallway. It’s cooler out here, and he takes a moment to lean against the cool tiled walls before continuing to the bathroom. Luckily, it’s empty. 

His bag drops to the ground before he’s digging through it, quickly finding what he’s looking for. A pen follows the notebook, and he cracks it open to the next fresh page, flipping through the countless pages filled with the Code of Claw. He had had Lizzie help him keep in practice for a while, until she wouldn't do it anymore. Or maybe it had been because his mom told her to stop. Either way, he continued. Keeping a journal of his days since the Underland. If anyone else were to read it, it would be unintelligible; meaningless scribbles in a notebook. But to Gregor, it was almost everything. 

##

Ben wasn't a friend, Gregor had decided early on. He had decided to stick himself onto Gregor, and no matter what he did, he wouldn't go away. He had first shown up when Gregor had to reveal his scars in the changing room, when, after a couple months of forged doctor notes, the teachers told him he had to start participating, and he wasn't allowed to change in the bathroom stalls. The first time he took his shirt off, there were immediate whispers. He didn't blame them. They were horrific. He would whisper if they were on someone else, even though he knew it was rude. 

When he walked out in shorts and a t-shirt (for the first time in--he couldn't even remember), the other kids had stepped away while the teacher stepped forwards, hurried worried words spilling from their lips.

“Gregor, what happened? How old are those scars? Does your counselor--”

“I’m fine.” Gregor had said, feeling extremely awkward. “They’re old. They’re from a car accident.”
Everyone backed off after that, except for Ben, who had come charging towards Gregor once they were told to pair off, slinging an arm around Gregor’s shoulders like they were old friends. 

“How the fuck did you get those nasty scars?”
Gregor was, to be honest, completely mortified. He knew they were there, and people had asked what had happened before, but never in the manner that Ben had. All straight to the point and disbelieving of what he saw. 

“A car accident.” Gregor had repeated. 

And even though Gregor had said that, he still through Ben didn't quite believe him. 

##

“Dude, why’d you leave math so early?”
Gregor narrowly misses getting hit in the chest with the ball, and shoves it back towards Ben. 

“I had to go to the bathroom.”
Ben scoffs as he catches the ball, pressing it to his side with his arm. “For thirty minutes? I don't think so. There’s like, two things I can think of that would take a dude that long, and you didn't have the desperation of either when you ran out.”
Gregor feels his cheeks start to burn as he tugs at the hem of his t-shirt, wishing for just a moment he could smother the other boy without getting in trouble. “You are a complete--”
He manages to cut himself off before he says anything he truly regrets, which is just as well, as Mr. Wilson chooses that moment to walk over. 

“Why aren't you boys practicing?”
Ben smiles at him, bouncing the ball once against the gym floor, before holding it again. “No worries, Mr. W. Just taking a short break. Gregor was telling me about all his woes.”
Gregor glares at Ben, who only smiles.

“Alright,” Mr. Wilson says, his eyes involuntarily drifting to the scars that littered Gregor’s body. Horrible. “Don't take too long though. We’ll split up into teams in a class or two.”
“Sounds good, Mr. W!” Ben chirps, throwing the ball back to Gregor. 

They wait for him to walk away, before Ben rolls his eyes. 

“God. That guy is crazy. Anyway. Where’d you really go?”
Gregor’s starting to get irritated, because even though he’s not lying, he knows Ben won't believe him. 

“Like I said. The bathroom. I was...writing.”

Regardless of how weird that sounded, it wasn't a lie. He had been fervently scribbling out paragraphs and paragraphs in the Code, not English, but that was a little detail. 

“What’re you writing? Diary? Poetry? Please tell me it’s not poetry because if it is--”
“Don't be a dick. It was nothing.”
Ben waves his hand dismissively, smiling. “Whatever. It’s that notebook though, yeah?”

Gregor’s stomach plummets, and his face must show something, because Ben is backpedaling, the same smile still on his face. 

“Chill, dude. I didn't go through it or anything. And I’m not like, spying or anything. I see you at lunch sometimes is all. You’re always writing something down in a notebook.”
“Oh.” Gregor says, feeling relieved. “Yeah. Whatever. How much longer is class?”
Ben glances at the clock, squinting as he reads it. “Ten minutes. So, five until we can go change and stuff. Shit. I’m so done with basketball. Give it here, I’ll go tell Mr. W you don't feel good or something and you need me to take you to the nurse.”
“I feel fine.”
Plus, he liked being able to wear shorts and t-shirts again. 

“No, you don't. You feel awful, like you're gonna die. Let’s go.”
Gregor sighs, and reluctantly hands over the basketball. 

##

He's falling. Plummeting through a darkness that tears at his clothes and rips his breath from his lungs. Where is he? Falling to the Underland, or falling within the Underland?

It doesn't matter. It doesn't matter, he thinks, because Ares is dead and he won't catch me and I’ll die just like Henry. Ares is dead, and it’s all my fault. 

Crashing into something soft pushes any and all air left in his lungs out. He fights to stay conscious, because this feels like a bats fur and that means maybe it’s--

“Gregor. Do not pass out. You would not  want to fall from Aurora’s back, would you?”

Aurora, which meant…

Luxa’s face pops into view, a smug smile playing on her lips. “I might not be able to hold onto you.”
“ Luxa .” He gasps, shoving himself up and pulling her into a tight hug. 

She laughs quietly in his ear, hugging him back. 

He pulls back, getting a better look at her. She hasn't changed at all. Until he watches as her eyes blow wide and she gasps for air as purple bumps erupt across her skin, some bursting. She stares at them for a moment, seeming almost confused. 

“Gregor?” 

He reaches out to grab her, horror twisting his insides painfully, but she tips back as her eyes roll back into her head, and tumbles over the edge of Aurora’s back. Gregor isn't sure if the screaming is coming from him or Luxa. He tugs on the bat’s fur, trying to make her go after Luxa. After her bond. Because he can't lose her. He can't.

“Aurora!” He yelled, “What are you doing?”
The bat twists her head back slightly, revealing ghostly white eyes that saw nothing. “I am taking you to Regalia.”
“No, you can't--Luxa--”
“It is fine, Overlander. She will be fine.”
He risks a look over, and sees Luxa’s body on a rock outcropping. She’s fine, he notices. Except for the way she looks completely broken. Except for the way her chest isn't moving. 

~

“Wake up!”

With a choking gasp he sits up in bed, a hand going to cover his mouth. Swinging his legs out of bed, he sprints to the bathroom where he manages to make it to the toilet before he throws up. He’s not even sure who woke him up. He manages to click his tounge, illuminating the dark bathroom in that special way that echolocation did, showing him his mom standing in the doorway, reaching for the light switch. He covers his eyes as the lights flick on, momentarily blinding him. 

“Gregor, honey, what’s wrong?”
He looks up to her, eyes finally adjusted, ready to make un an excuse so she won't be worried. But he remembers Luxa’s body again, and he retches into the toilet again. A cool hand on his forehead pushes his sweaty bangs back, while another starts to rib gentle circles on his back. 

“Did you have a nightmare?” She asks softly. 

He considers lying. He doesn't want her to worry. But he didn't know what he had been doing to get his mom in his room in the first place, so he figures better not. 

“Yeah.” He says hoarsely. 

“...I figured. You were screaming. Nearly scared your dad half to death.”
Which meant everyone else had probably heard too. Great.

“I’m fine.”
“Gregor, me and your dad have been talking, and…” She looks away from him, to a framed picture of a beach on the wall that they had never been to. “We want to get you some help.”
“What…?”
She looks embarrassed, like this wasn't how she had planned it to come out. “We want to try sending you to a therapist. Your uncle recommended someone-- Gregor , wait.”

He looked down at her from where he had stood up, his hands shaking. “It’s been years since I was last down there,” he spits, “Years. And now you want to try and get me help?”
He can't stop the shaky laugh that bubbles up, because honestly . “Even if you could find someone, they would think I’m crazy. Completely insane. No one would believe me if I started spouting off stories about the Underland.”
“Gregor, no, we just thought maybe it would be good for you to try--”
“No.”
He pushes past her, and runs to his room to shove his feet into his shoes before he grabs a sweatshirt and runs out the door. He pauses only for a moment to pull the sweatshirt on, before he’s running. He doesn't have a destination in mind; he doesn't care for long he has to run. He just wants to get away from the house that brings him his nightmares and the idea that someone like him could get better. He was a murderer. If he told people about what he’d done, he would be in jail for the rest of his life. But that’s only if they believed him. 

The cold bites against his skin as he runs, the freezing air painful in his lungs. He made it to town before he stumbles and trips, his knee skidding across the pavement, stripping away the skin. The sharp smell of blood isn't unfamiliar to him in the slightest, and he’s had worse injuries than this before, but he starts crying anyway. His knee starts to throb as the blood drips down his shin; and in a way the pain feels good, because this at least gives him a reason to cry. He looks up as footsteps approach, seeing the boy who looked like Hazard approach him. 

“Um.” He says uncomfortably. “Are you okay?”
The wrongness of the question at this point sends Gregor into a fit of laughter, but the boy steps forwards instead of away. 

“Your knee looks really bad. My mom’s got a first air kid upstairs. How about you come in or something? I can try to help clean it up.”
Gregor nods, forcing himself to stand up, limping towards the boy. 

“My name’s Elias. Call me Eli, though.” Eli squints at Gregor, before he smiles. “Hey! You’re that guy who came in the other day! You come in a lot.”
“Yeah.” 

“Okay. Well, anyway!”
Gregor follows Eli into the bookstore, sitting down on the stool he’s directed to, while Eli runs up the stairs to get the first aid kid.
A lighter pair of footsteps follows his back down the steps, and an older looking woman comes down with Eli in tow. She looks exactly like him. 

“Hello, there.” She says in greeting. “I’m Mrs. White. Let’s see about getting you fixed up.”
She flicks on some of the lights, and Gregor almost wishes she hadn't, because she chokes on her breath when she sees his bare legs. Eli only stares, a quiet murmured curse his only reaction. 

“A-alright, let’s, um…” She turns to Eli and whispers something, going back upstairs, looking a bit sick. 

Eli shifts uncomfortably, watching her go for a moment, before kneeling down in front of Gregor, opening the first aid kit. “What the hell are these from?” he asks. 

“You wouldn't believe me if I told you.” Gregor replies blandly. 

Eli purses his lips slightly, grabbing a wipe from the box. “Try me.”
Gregor hisses at the sting of the wipe against his knee, but Eli is still looking at him expectantly. 

“Seriously?” He asks, sighing. 

Eli shrugs, wiping at his knee again. “Seriously.”
“The big ones on my legs are from giant ants. The smaller ones are from giant rats.”
Eli hesitates, not saying anything, but continues cleaning up his knee. 

“See?” Gregor says accusingly, “You don't believe me.”
With a shrug Eli smooths a bandage over the scrape. “I never said that. My...my sister went and disappeared around seven years ago while she was visiting New York. Never came back, never found a body; if she was dead. Just...gone. Messed us all up pretty bad.”
“I’m sorry.”
But, New York? And the resemblence to Hazard…

“Eli, you’re definitely not going to believe me, but I think I may know what happened to your sister. And if I’m right...you’ve got a nephew.”
Eli’s face pales, and he stands up, backing away. “You’re lying. They looked for months.”
“Why would I lie about this?” Gregor snaps, standing up. “I have plenty of proof. If she fell to the Underland--”
“What’s the Underland?”
“It’s…” Gregor takes a deep breath, running his hand through his hair, and sitting back down. “It’s a long story.”
“Tell me.” Eli demands. 

Gregor does. 

~

If Eli didn't think that Gregor was a bit crazy to begin with, he definitely thought so now. 

“Are you high or something?” Eli finally asks. “What the fuck ? How am I supposed to believe all that?”
Gregor doesn't reply, but sits back against the counter, knotting his fingers together. 

“You’re telling me--you’re telling me that I might have a nephew hundreds of feet underneath our feet, and he’s not even human ?”
“He’s a Half-lander.” Gregor interjects. “He’s human.”
Eli stares at him with wide eyes, shaking his head wildly. “Sorry if I don't exactly believe that when you tell me that there’s giant rats and other nightmarish things down there.”
“It is a nightmare.” Gregor says tightly, “But he’s in a good place. With good people.”
“Right. You mentioned this...Luxa?”
“Yeah. The queen. A-actually--” Gregor digs in his pocket for a moment, before pulling out the creased photo. “This is her.”
Taking the picture, Eli doesn't miss how Gregor seemed to hold onto it a moment longer than needed. 

The picture isn't much to look at. A younger boy who Eli assumes is Gregor has a broken smile on his face; a mirror to the girl who stands next to him. Her eyes are as purple as the veins that show through her skin, and Eli can't help but feel a bit put off. She didn't look human. 

He hands it back to Gregor who smooths it out slightly, looking fondly down at it before tucking it away. 

“Is there a way I can meet the kid?”
“Hazard? The only entrances are in New York, I think. So, probably not.”
“I could get there.” Eli rushes, “You could be my guide!”
Gregor strangles down the yes that wants to come out, and forces out a no. 

“Why?” Eli asks, looking slightly defeated. 

“I don't know if I’d be able to come back.”
The realization startles Gregor more than he cares to admit, and he’s gotten to his feet before he registers that he’s moving. 

“I have to go.” he blurts.

“Wait!” 

Eli’s grip on his arm is tight and Gregor wrenches away before his fingers start to feel too much like vines. 

“You can go, I just--I want to talk to you again. How can I contact you? What’s your number?”
“I don't have a phone.”

“Are you fucking with me? You’re in highschool, right?”
“So, what? I need to go. I’ll come back another day. Thanks for the help.”
Ignoring Eli’s protests, Gregor darts out the door, the sting in his knee an almost pleasant distraction from everything that was going through his head. He didn't want to think about going back. Back to where everything and nothing made sense. Back to Luxa. And what if Hazard really was Eli’s nephew? That meant that Eli’s sister really was dead, and that Hazard had more family he didn't even know about. And Gregor was the only one who knew enough to be able to tell him that. But he couldn't go back. Because he wouldn't be able to leave again. He would be able to wear the clothes he wanted without fear of prying questions, and he would be able to see everyone else again. He could visit Ares’ grave. 

At the thought of Ares, Gregor’s heart gives a painful twinge, and he stumbles in the dark. So he tucks the Underland and any related thoughts to the back of his head. Right now, he just needed to get home. 

~

He bursts through the door, startling his mom and dad who are both sitting at the kitchen table. He stops dead in the doorway, staring at them, before taking a ragged breath, and running past them and up the stairs. 

“Gregor!” His mom yells, “Come back here!”
He doesn't. 

Instead, he continues into his room, shutting the door and locking it behind him. He easily makes his way to his bed in the dark room, shedding his shoes and other various layers as he lays down, holding the photograph tightly in his hand. 

He would deal with the consequences tomorrow, he decides. He just wants to think. Think about the possibility of going back. Going back to Regalia seems like a dream. A nightmare. He just wants to sleep, he thinks finally. He’s so tired and his legs ache after all that running. So Gregor puts the photograph down, and closes his eyes, trying to get his brain to quiet. 

Gregor is still trying to fall asleep when there’s a knocking at the door the next morning. He tugs on a shirt, and goes to unlock it, opening the door to Boots. She giggles and grins up at him, before grabbing his wrist and pulling him along with her. 

“Where are we going, Boots?” Gregor asks with a sleepy laugh. 

“Mama’s gonna take us to the city!”
Gregor’s stomach clenches, but he lets her pull him along until they stop in the kitchen. Their mom is sitting at the table with the other adults, a steaming cup of coffee clutched in her hands. 

She looks up when they walk in, a tired smile gracing her features. “You’re up.”
Gregor stares at her for a moment, before shifting his feet slightly, as Boots runs to sit besides their dad, tugging on his arm and saying something. 

“I never got back to sleep.” He finally says. 

Boots is gathering things for cereal, their dad trailing behind her to help. 

“Boots says we’re going into the city.” Gregor says flatly. 

His mom nods hesitantly. “We have an appointment for you to go to.”
He tries to control the wave of anger that rushes over him. He does. So he’s not too proud when he walks past them, jamming his feet into a pair of boots at the door and grabbing a jacket before he storms out the door.

He walks out to the old pasture that held nothing but grass and flowers and weeds, and climbed the fence, walking towards the woods on the other side. He clambers over the fence on the other side, standing at the edge of the woods, looking into the dark expanse of branches and leaves. It had always reminded him just a little bit too much of the jungle in the Underland. Just different. Cold and tall and lifeless compared to the jungle. Gregor takes a hesitant step towards the woods, reaching out and touching the cold bark of one of the trees. He trails his fingers down the roughness, letting his hand fall to his side after. It’s quiet, but so loud. The chirping of birds and the scuttle of creatures in the underbrush echo in the quiet morning, as the sun works to dispel the permanent chill in the air. He sighs, watching his breath turn white before it disappears. Calm. It was calm. It was okay. 

~

When he arrives back to the house, his Uncle is still sitting at the kitchen table. 

“Gregor.” He says. 

Gregor decides not to respond, and instead goes to get himself a cup of water. 

“I argued in your favor, you know.”
Gregor is surprised. He had doubted his Uncle would even get involved, but he went against his mom for him. 

“You’re only fifteen. I don't pretend to know anything that you went through, but…”
Gregor turns to him, watching as he takes a sip of his coffee. 

“I know you’re a strong kid. You want to try and figure it out yourself, yeah?”
Gregor sits down at the table across from him, giving him a wary look. “Yeah.”
“You miss that place, don't you?”
Gregor fidgets, cracking his knuckles nervously. “I guess.”
“Can't you visit? The entrance is in New York, right? Couldn't you go and stay a night and then come back?”
Gregor shakes his head, pushing the water glass away, no longer thirsty. 

“I don't think I could come back.”
His uncle looks confused. “Why?”
“It...I had a hard enough time leaving the first time. I don't think I could do it again. I don't really have a place there anymore. How...what all did my parents tell you?”
“The basics. You went on various quests for Reglias--”
“Regalia.” Gregor interrupts.

His uncle nods once. “Right. Regalia. You went on quests for Regalia, to save the people and whatnot. You got hurt along the way, and not all of your friends made it.”
Ares. Hamnet. Frill. Tick. Twitchtip. And too many more. 

Gregor nods as he picks at his nail. “That’s about the tamest version I’ve ever heard, but yeah.”
“Do you want to talk about it?” His uncle asks softly. “I don't mind listening.”
Gregor considers for a moment, before shaking his head. “No. Not now, at leasts. There’s something I need to do.”
“Be careful, Gregor.”

“I will.”

##

“Dude!”
He jerks towards the voice just in time to get a face full of basketball. His nose erupts in pain, and blood drips down his chin a moment later. 

Ben runs over, growing panic on his face--Mr. Wilson in tow. 

“Shit, shit, shit! I’m so sorry!”

Mr. Wilson frowns at Ben’s language, but tells him to take Gregor to the nurse. Ben doesn't protest, and grabs Gregor’s arm, dragging him from the gym. Ben ducks into the bathroom to grab a wad of paper towels that he shoves in Gregor’s face, not waiting to see if he stops to hold them in place. 

“You’ve been completely out of it this week, man. What’s up with you?”

Gregor shrugs, avoiding looking at Ben.
“I’m fine.”
“Okay, I’ll pretend like I believe that, but didn't that hurt ? You got smashed in the face by a basketball, dude! And it wasn't exactly a soft throw.”
Gregor shrugs again, adjusting the wad of paper towels. “Let’s just go to the nurse. I’ve had worse injuries than this before.”
So they walk in silence. Ben is quiet the entire time, which is weird. 

When they make it to the nurse’s office, Ben goes straight to a chair, and slumps down, rubbing at his eyes, while the nurse checks Gregor’s nose. 

“It’s not broken.” She says. “Just looks like a bloody nose. Just keep tissues on it and wait for it to stop bleeding.”
“Okay. Thanks.” Gregor says, turning to leave. 

Ben jumps up to follow him, his normal energy suddenly back. He turns and gives a loose salute to the nurse, grinning. 

“Bye, Ms. Martin!”
She laughs, waving goodbye to them.

~

Mr. Wilson instructs Gregor to sit out and watch when they return to the gym, which is fine by Gregor. He’s started thinking about the Underland again. More specifically--Hazard. If Gregor couldn't go down, maybe Hazard could come up. He would be about eleven at this point...right? But that’s still really young, Gregor thinks. A small part of his mind whispers that Gregor was that old when everything started, but he ignores it. He would just need to get a note down there. He could use one of the scouts. It shouldn't be an issue. He needed to go see Eli this week, otherwise, he was a little worried about what he might do. 

The rush of kids to go to the locker room knocks Gregor from his thoughts as he gets up to follow them to the changing room. He would figure this out later after he’d had some rest, he decides. 

##

The door chimes as Gregor steps into the store, and Eli perks up as soon as he sees him. 

“You’re here! I was starting to think you were gone for good.”
“I couldn't find a time to come,” Gregor lies. “I was busy.”
“Oh. Okay. Anyway, so? What’s the deal?”
Gregor takes a breath, squeezing his hand into a tight fist by his side. “I’ll take you.”
Eli’s eyes light up and a smile breaks across his face. “Seriously? Yes! We can take a train or something. I’ll take care of the travel costs. Actually, maybe by car? I’ll talk to my mom and see if we can take it. When can we go?”
Gregor thinks of the fact that his parents won't know about this trip. That they never will. 

“This weekend.”
Eli flashes a quick grin and runs a quick hand through his hair, leaving it a mess of curls. “Okay. Okay, sweet. That’s like, in a couple of days?”
Gregor nods, guilt already festering in his gut that he was going to be so majorly lying to his parents. 

“Come back tomorrow, yeah?” Eli asks, “I’ll try to get the car from my mom, and we can pack some stuff if we need it.”
“Wait,” Gregor says, finally realizing. “You can drive?”
Eli nods, waving behind Gregor with a bright smile as someone else walks in. “Yeah. For a few months legally. You can’t?”
Gregor shrugs. “I’m not sixteen.”
Eli looks at him again, frowning. “Really? How old were you went under?”
Under?

“You mean the Underland? I was eleven.”

“Oh.”

“...Is that it?” Gregor asks. 

Eli nods, leaning up against the counter. “Yeah. You gonna stay?”
Gregor hesitates a moment, before nodding. “My sister wanted a new puzzle book. I said I’d get her one if I came.”
“If? You weren't gonna come?”
Gregor mutters a non-committal response, walking away to go back to the discounted books. He shuffles through them until he finds a book full of anagrams and other puzzles. Perfect. 

##

To say that he felt bad would be an understatement. 

It was the night before he was leaving--escaping?--to go to New York, and he felt like he was going to be sick. His bag was packed with flashlights, a pocketknife he had found, two waterbottles, extra batteries, granola bars, and, of course, a roll of duct tape. He had thrown his notebook and pen in for good measure, because he was only sending a note. So he wasn't sure why he had packed everything else. It also excluded what Eli had packed. 

“Gregor?”
Gregor looks up at his uncle from the couch he was currently sprawled across, flushing at the raised eyebrow look he got. 

“Yeah?”
“Are you okay?”
Gregor sits himself up, shoving his hands into his sweatshirt pocket, clenching them into fists. “Yeah. I’m good. Why?”
His uncle frowns, propping his arms up on his legs as he knits his hands together. “I’m just worried. You’ve been awfully quiet these past couple days. Did something happen at school? I know I’m not your mom or dad, but I’m still here if you need me.”

“I know.” Gregor says with a tight smile. “But honestly, I’m okay.”
He tries not to seem rude as he stands. “I’m tired.” He says. “I’m just gonna…” He gestures towards the stairs as he starts to move towards them, not waiting for his uncle’s response. He just hoped he’d actually be able to get some sleep tonight.