Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Virgil had been scared when they had put him on a metal table.

The room outside the carrier box was so different from the clutter of the house where he had lived, where there were always piles of clothes to hide in and crisp packets to steal from. Here was sterile white, the smell of cleaning chemicals and other animals strong in his nose, and there were people, people above him with nowhere to hide.

They had picked him up carefully, muttering reassurances as hands almost as big as his entire body enveloped him, pinning his wings and arms to his body in a secure grip. At least they didn’t touch his chest, still unbearably painful from the collection of burns blistering there.

There was a sharp pain in his leg and the world went fuzzy round the edges. He closed his eyes briefly to lessen the weight of sleep that was bearing down upon him, and next thing he knew he had woken up alone and in a cage.

He was clean.

He smelled like chemicals, which he hated, but for the first time in a long time, he was actually clean. Not only that, but someone had wrapped his burns in clean white bandages.

It was warm, and he was surprisingly comfortable, lying on his side, his wings carefully tucked behind him, a woven blanket soft against his cheek. He almost considered letting the fuzz in his head drag him back down into sleep.

No. He shook it off. He had to check out his surroundings, had to find… oh shit where was Roman? He hadn’t seen his compatriot since they had both been bundled into their respective boxes in the house. He wanted him, wanted the plucky sod to watch his back, so they could creep and survive together as they had for so long.

It took a couple of tries to roll to his feet, and his head pounded in protest. He stumbled sideways, only to fall over again against some cool ceramic. A bowl of water. He stuck his face in, the cool liquid helping to wash the cotton wool out of his head. He noted with some small alarm that his wings had been bound to his back, preventing any attempts at flight. It didn’t change much, as he hadn’t had the energy to fly, but it concerned him why anyone would want to take his flight from him.

They want to punish you. Your owners got sick of you being bad and have sent you here. You will never see Roman again. They took Roman away.

Somewhere in the room, a cat started its whining mewls in response to the clack of footsteps in the hall outside. Then of the door swinging open and the sounds of two humans moving into the room. Virgil looked around wildly.

There was nowhere to hide.

Still, he scrambled into the corner furthest away from the cage door, and scrunched himself down. Maybe if they could see he was sorry they might leave him alone.

The humans approached the cage.

“Hey baby, you’re awake quickly!” a human smiled gently at him, “ I betcha feeling pretty out of it though?”

Virgil stared at him blankly.

“Try not to overload him Remy.” The other human had a little ball of reddish feathers and bandages tucked into his arms. Roman. Virgil felt sick.

Remy fiddled with the lock on the door, and the bars swung open. Virgil started to shake.

“I am just going to put your little friend in here with you. No need to be afraid.” the bespeckled human gently laid the other avian down on the blanket, before retreating and closing the door. The lock clicked, and Virgil felt some of the tightness in his chest lighten. Concern won over caution, and, watching the humans carefully, he tottered forwards to his companion, and clumsily patted his face. Roman did not even stir.

“We gave him some…” “sleepy juice,” Remy supplied, “…some sleepy juice to take away the pain for a while,” the human explained, “he won’t wake up for some time, but you are both safe here. You should get some rest too.” He watched Virgil, seemingly waiting for a response. But Virgil couldn’t speak: his throat closed up at even the notion of making a single sound near humans.

He folded his legs beneath himself, and started to smooth some of his sleeping friend’s feathers.

“He seems well enough, and shows no aggression towards the other avian,” the bespeckled human spoke softly to his colleague, before turning back to Virgil, “We will be back to check on you in a couple of hours. Rest. You are safe here.”

And with that they left.

He was tired. Maybe he should rest. He had got permission to sleep here, so perhaps no one had to keep watch for now? His head pounded still. It was safe to rest his eyes right?

He was asleep again within minutes.

—

Name: PRINCEY AND ANXIETY

Species: HUMANOID AVIAN

Colour: RED/BROWN (Princey), BLACK/GREY (Anxiety)

Circumstance: CONFISCATED FROM OWNERS, OWNERS INCARCERATED

Notes: brought in by law enforcement after a property search lead to their owners arrest for possession of class A drugs. Both have been clearly neglected for some time (underweight and signs of physical abuse) and both display a high degree of fear towards humans, but are not aggressive.

According to their previous owners, they were illegally purchased approximately 5 years ago as pets for children, but their ‘bad behaviour’ made them undesirable as ‘toys.’ This is a common fate for their species.

Princey is capable of speech, but ‘has not spoken in some time’ and Anxiety has not been heard to speak.

Injuries: CIGARETTE BURNS TO CHEST AND WINGS varying degrees of healing suggest injuries gained over time, MALNUTRITION, CUT REQUIRING STITCHES (Princey only) gained evading capture immediately prior to admittance at clinic. OBSERVE FURTHER FOR VITAMIN DEFICIENCY AND BEHAVIOURAL PROBLEMS.

Treatment plan:

Logan blinked in surprise as emotion choked in his throat. Upon identifying the feeling, he found it to be rage.

Of course animals do not act like toys. Of course something as intelligent as avian humanoids would need substantial enrichment to maintain a healthy mental state.

Treatment plan.

He could treat the physical wounds just fine. It was the psychological that would be the problem: those wounds could only heal with a substantial amount of love and patience. The rescue center, with its bustle of people and animals coming and going was certainly no place for sensitive and traumatised individuals to be making a recovery. But finding owners with enough experience to properly care for avian humanoids would be hard, and with the added issues of trauma… No. The future of this pair would be a cage in a quiet corner, slipping further away from the chance to socialise with anyone other than each other.

There was a knock at the vet’s office door.

“Lunchtime Logan!…what’s up? You look upset.”

Logan cursed Patton’s ability to read his emotions in a way that no one else was able to, even though it was exactly that skill that made him the perfect in his role as public outreach and animal therapy liaison.

“Patton. It is uncommon to see you on the vet’s side of the center. Do you not have a community care group in today?”

Patton smiled,

“They left at 12. Anyway you are avoiding my question!” he put his hands on his hips, “You do realise it is nearly 1?! “

"Right. I was just finishing up this report.” Logan kept his voice smooth. Patton looked over his shoulder.

“Princey and Anxiety? Who calls their pet Anxiety?”

“I think it is less of a name and more of a… common moniker.” Logan covered the rest of the page with an arm, “You don’t want to read this Pat.”

“That bad huh?"

Logan ran a hand through his hair. Patton had a big heart, one that sought to fill everyone who left their doors with a little bit more joy than they came in with, be they animal or human.

“I can sit with them till you’re done if you want someone to socialise them.”

“I don’t think they would appreciate that.” Logan’s voice was soft, and Patton cast his eyes downwards, “and besides, they are injured and need to rest.”

“Alright. You finish your report, then we’ll go get lunch.” Patton gave him a little smile, and sat in the spare chair, fishing his phone out of his pocket. Logan wrote up the basics of a physical care plan, stalling on the long term therapeutic suggestions. After a few minutes Patton spoke up again.

“It says here that avian humanoids are generally as intelligent as a 5-7 year old child.”

“Depends what skill you are measuring. But yes, they have complex verbal language abilities, social dynamics, and reasonably good problem solving skills. And as a result, they need quite substantial enrichment.”

Patton looked at him incredulously.

“Why are they even sold as pets if their needs are so complex?”

Logan pursed his lips in disapproval.

“They are status symbols, and can be well trained. Advocates of their continued sale believe that the licensing laws around them prevent their abuse. Whether or not that is the case, these individuals were illegally imported, and have no prior papertrail.” Logan fiddled with his watch strap. “As with most neglected social animals, these two are likely to have significant behavioural problems that will deter potential adopters, preventing them from ever truly meeting their social needs…I am…truly unsure as to what the best way forward is for their long term emotional care.”

Patton laid a gentle hand on the desk, not quite touching Logan.

“That sounds really difficult to deal with. Maybe you can tell me more about them over lunch, and we can work something out. I do work in therapy after all.” he gave a smile, “Between the two of us, I am sure we can give them a future.”

Chapter Text

Roman huddled miserably in the corner of the cage, his emo compatriot quaking beside him as footsteps clicked in in the corridor. 

Since he had woken up the first time, there had been several humans in to check on them, but none had opened the cage door, or got angry when Roman was unable to find the courage to speak to answer their soft questions. He had not yet seen their owners, but he was sure they would be angry when they came back.

The door to the small room swung open, and Roman caught a glimpse of two men. But instead of going to their cage, the pair moved off to look into another cage across the room from them. Roman let out a silent sigh of relief.

“Hello bunny rabbits!” Light blue jumper kept his voice soft, “My name is Patton.”

Bespectacled vet spoke up next, “My name is Logan.”

“They are very beautiful rabbits, Logan,” Patton spoke simply. Roman listened carefully.

“Ted Bunndy here was a little sick, and his friend has come with him to keep him company while he gets better. We never split up friends.”

“It is very important for them to stay together isn’t it?”

“Yes.” Logan spoke woodenly, “Good friends make you feel safe. And we want them to feel safe here.”

Dark-and-Stormy crushed himself into Roman’s side, and nervously rearranged his feathers.

“They have a lot of food there! Is that all for them?” Patton smiled sideways at Logan.

“All of the food in the cage is for them. They have to eat a lot to get better. It took a while for Ted to start eating again, but now he is, we are all very proud of him.”

Roman eyed the bowl of mixed foodstuffs in his own cage. He and Dark-and-Stormy had raided the bowl for a few bits and pieces, but not enough for it to look like anything had been taken. He knew from his old home that that was the safest way. But they weren’t at home anymore. Perhaps, if the food was there for them as it was for the rabbits, they could take a little more. 

The vets that had come to check in on them earlier had also told him to eat, but he was never sure if they were trying to trick him or not. 

The humans moved on, saying a couple of kind words to some of the other sick animals in the room. They told them they were there to help, that they should eat and get strong, and that they should sleep lots till they felt better.

Roman knew that the other animals probably couldn’t understand the human’s words, but he could, and they ignited a kernel of hope in his chest. Even Anxiety had come off high alert, shifting from eye-glazed stillness into the repetitive anxious movement of smoothing down his feathers. 

“Hello you two.” Patton was in front of their cage, “It is nice to meet you!” His voice was soft, but he sounded genuinely enthusiastic. “My name is Patton, and this is Logan.”

Roman’s heart stuttered. Was Patton expecting him to speak? He could get in trouble if he spoke when he wasn’t meant to. But these people, they were softly spoken, maybe it would be fine…

Hesitantly, Roman raised a hand to give a little wave. His action was rewarded by Patton’s beaming smile.

“Hi there.” Patton waved back, and gave Logan a soft nudge.

“It is a pleasure to meet you both” Logan’s voice was pleasantly deep. He also gave a little wave, but had a faintly awkward air about him.

“Logan is one of the vets here. He looks after everyone who is hurt.” Patton gestured minutely towards Roman’s chest, “He put those bandages on you. They will help you to get better and stop your injuries hurting and getting dirty, so it is super important you don’t try to pull them off. Is that alright? Thumbs up if it is, thumbs down if not.”

Roman gave a thumbs up without even thinking of the ramifications. Patton leaked a pleased smile. The emo nightmare shifted slightly to slip his hand into Roman’s. They listened carefully for more instructions.

“Good job kiddos!” Patton praised. Roman was doing a good job! Roman wanted to do a good job. “Good job…” Patton cocked his head as though trying to remember something, “What are your names?”

Roman tried to ride the wave of confidence Patton’s praise had given him, but still the words died in his throat… his owners had called him many things, which name did they want him to say? He personally preferred Roman, a name from a game of make-believe he had played many years ago. 

“Your paperwork called you ‘Princey,’” Logan’s soft voice cut through Roman’s spiralling thoughts, “Can you give us a thumbs up if you are happy to go by Princey, thumbs down if you want to go by something else.” His voice was deep and grounding.

 Roman raised a thumbs up. He could go by that. It wasn’t his name, but he could go by that.

“Good job Princey. And if you decide you want to change what we call you, you can tell us anytime.” Logan smiled, and Roman felt hope rise in his chest fiercely. These humans didn’t force him to speak, and might even respect his name. He squeezed Anxiety’s hand, and received a small squeeze in return.

“And do you have a name kiddo?” Patton asked kindly, his gaze focused on Dark-and-Stormy’s feet. He froze up completely, what little calm he had had vanquished by the direct question.

If Anxiety had a name, not even Roman knew what it was. While Roman had the voice to tell his emo compatriot his name, Panic!AtTheEverywhere had never spoken, not to humans, and not to Roman.

“They used to call you Anxiety.” Logan spoke again, and a pained expression flitted across Patton’s face. At the sound of the nickname, Dark-and-Stormy nodded frantically, starting to shake in his effort to answer the question non-verbally.

“Ok, we can call you that for now. I can see speaking a little too much today, which is absolutely fine. We can sort it out later, don’t worry.” Patton gave another smile. Anxiety stopped shaking, and seemed to zone back in, his hand clammy in Roman’s own.

“Ok kiddos. I know things must be very different from before, so I just want to explain what is going on.” Patton smiled reassuringly. “You are both here now because your old owners can't look after you anymore, so you are going to be living with us at the centre for a while. Lots of pets come here for help when they are sick or if their owners are bad to them. So we are going to try to make you feel welcome here.” 

Logan nodded in agreement.

“First off, I see you have a plenty of food in your bowl.” Patton turned slightly to Logan. 

“They have some pieces of chicken in there, and peanuts, and some spinach. Lots of energy rich food to help you heal and put some weight back on.”

“That is really great Logan! And how much do they need to eat?” Patton focused on Logan. Roman was glad that the humans weren't staring in his direction so much anymore.

“It would be very good if they can eat most of that by this evening. And we will come along to top it up before night, so there is no need to ration.” 

All that by night! And then more food after it! Roman’s eyes nearly bugged out of his head. He had limited himself to only a few unnoticeable pieces earlier, but if they were actually allowed to take it, nay, encouraged to take it… 

Once upon a time, their owners had fed them. Back when Roman had tried to be a good pet, play along being the prince in the kid’s stories. But after a while his owners had got bored of them. They had forgotten to feed them, and had often got mad when Roman had begged for food. Didn’t stop him from trying -that was why he had so many more scars than the Emo Nightmare- but he also learned that even when they offered food, sometimes it was a trick, and they would wheel away, leaking sloppy laughter, their pupils barely pinpricks as they flicked a cigarette into his feathers. The last week had been particularly bad, and even though these humans seemed nothing like his owners, the fear still curdled in his gut.

There was a very simple way to see if Patton and Logan’s words were true.

Roman patted Anxiety's hand, their gesture of ‘I’ll be right back.’ The Emo Nightmare stared right back and held on tighter, ‘Are you crazy?’ painted across his features. ‘I need to.’ Roman said in that silent language that they had relied upon in the house of fear where nothing could be relied upon but each other. Anxiety’s grip went lax, and his eyes vacant. He did that sometimes when he was scared. And though Roman didn’t want his friend to be scared, this was something he had to be sure of, or he too would drown in the uncertainty of What Was and Was Not Allowed.

 Roman took a deep breath and stepped forwards.

The humans watched him. Patton’s head was tilted curiously, and Logan was looking sideways at him. They did nothing to curb his audacity.

He reached the bowl, gripping the ceramic edge.

“That’s right kiddo, you can eat anything you want.” Patton’s voice was soft. He seemed to know that Roman’s confidence was on a knife point. 

Roman picked up a cube of chicken and held it up questioningly.

“A nice piece of chicken. It’s for you.” Patton spoke again, allowing, encouraging.

Roman took the tiniest bite, chewed slowly, and managed to swallow the morsel despite his throat feeling like it was closing up. 

“Good lad,” Patton was soft, so soft, “I think we will leave you two to your lunch now. Eat up, and get a plenty of rest. You are safe here.”

And they left him alone.

Roman dropped to his knees, hugging the piece of chicken. His sobs of relief and tentative hope were as silent as all the tears he had shed in the hellhouse. Within a moment, Dark-and-Stormy was enveloping him in touches, trailing hands through his hair and feathers.

They spent some time passing the chicken between them, ripping off bite size chunks, and it felt like the best food they had ever had. It was even better than the same meat they had sneakily taken from the bowl earlier, as this chicken was seasoned with hope for many peaceful meals in the future. And when it was finished, Roman keeled forwards into his friend’s embrace.

Later, they would eat more. And even later Roman would test the boundaries yet again, see if he could speak and sing and play and live.

But for now, he let himself sleep.

Chapter Text

The bird man had given Patton the most adorable little wave, and the therapist had felt his heart break a little more.

The pair had been a mess. Their tiny bodies were swamped with bandages, but most harrowing was the wariness in their postures. Princey’s eyes had been clouded with fear, but held a longing to interact, to answer Patton’s questions. Patton just knew there was an outgoing free spirit under there, just waiting to be given permission to shine beneath the fear he had been subjected to. And Anxiety had lived up to his name. The poor kiddo had been practically catatonic in a dissociative fugue, but Patton knew that with a good environment and plenty of reassurance, he too could find peace.

When he looked at them, Patton knew he wanted to protect them.

And he had a plan. 

Step one was to get them feeling a bit more secure. Remy had mentioned the pair weren’t eating, weren’t speaking, weren’t doing much of anything in their frightening new surroundings filled with uncertainty. And so Patton had talked gently to the other sick animals in the room, reassuring them, and carefully laying the groundwork for a conversation with the avians. And it seemed to have worked: while not exactly comfortable, they were able to pay attention to what he was saying.  

Step two was to get them actually eating and looking after themselves. After what had seemed a gargantuan feat of bravery, Princey had managed to eat some chicken. Logan had stealthily wandered past a couple of hours later and had sighted Anxiety tackling a large piece of spinach, so there was hope that he too was now eating. 

The next steps were to find a temporary home for them, work out some habitat enrichment to keep them entertained, and finally, to introduce enough human interaction to help them on their way to long-term psychological recovery and a forever home. 

Patton had been picking at ‘creating a welcoming home for your avian’ and ‘cute toys for bird bois’ articles since he had got home. He put another round of notes in the haphazard googledoc he was compiling. He wanted to do the very best he could for them, but it was starting to get overwhelming.

-88888-

It was only 7:58, but Logan couldn’t wait the extra 2 minutes to text Patton tonight. His brain would not switch off from the events of the day, could not be swayed from the conundrum that was the animal rescue’s latest arrivals. He may be breaking his standard evening routine texting early, but tonight it was necessary.

Logie Bearry Jam: Good evening Patton, how was your dinner?

He sent the text, and picked up the blanket he was crocheting, trying to lose himself in the movement of the hook and the weaving of the wool until Patton replied back.

Pattoncakes: tofu and carrot stir fry with rice 🥕🍚😍🥰😇🍽️✨👻😽

Logan smiled internally at Patton's enthusiastic use of emojis. While in others the behaviour may have been grating, with Patton, it was just another outlet of the man’s effervescence.

Logie Bearry Jam: that sounds delicious. I had pasta with tomato sauce. I liked it.

These texts were a ritual, the same kind of message Logan sent every night. Peace washed into his veins.

Patton shot off a gif of the spaghetti scene from Lady and the tramp.

Pattoncakes: Spagooto🍝👨🍳sounds good! What are you up to tonight?

Logie Bearry Jam:: I am crocheting a blanket. How about you?

Pattoncakes: 🐥🐥💞🤕I have been reading a lil bit about our newest arrivals <3.

And there was the perfect opportunity to sway the conversation in the direction of his current worries. It was understandable that Patton would also be worrying about the same subject, and yet he suspected Patton knew he was worrying about the avians as well. Logan knew many people saw him as unfeeling. But Patton understood. He was good like that.

Logie Bearry Jam: I too have been thinking of the avains. Have you read anything interesting?

Patton sent a link to a google doc filled with links and notes.

Logan threw himself in. 

For such delicate pets as humanoid avians, the information on how to look after them was muddied and mixed up, torn between the reality of what they were and what owners wished them to be. Dolls, children, highly-trainable, simple animals, held to the behavioural standards of adults, there was a mishmash of conflicting ideas.

Patton’s notes were in the early draft stage, filled with questions and ideas. He was not as focused on medical concerns Logan, instead choosing to consider a wide range of issues. He outlined every issue well, and had the therapeutic knowledge to challenge false behavioural information.

The document was beautiful.

Logan and Patton’s work rarely intertwined, and so it was rare that Logan got to see this side of the therapy worker. The side that was intelligent in his kindness, the thought process behind his ability to make people feel safe. Logan marveled anew at the incredible man his co-worker was, how capable, how eloquent...

What a joy to be a friend to a man like that.

Logan abandoned his crochet hook in preference of giving his laptop his full attention. They sent back and forth all manners of articles from owners tips to scientific studies. Taking in data, and weaving it into a usable care plan, evaluating all with a vets knowledge and a therapist’s experience.

They danced between information together, shifting through articles. It was so much more fun with Patton (metaphorically) by his side. 

Logie Bearry Jam: Perhaps their enclosure can be moved to the vet’s office so that they can get used to humans coming and going, and so we can keep a close eye on them.

Pattoncakes: the vets office is pretty busy! Maybe once they settle a bit more. But right now i think that would be a bit scary

Pattoncakes: maybe the small animal room?

Logie Bearry Jam: It is the correct conditions in there for them.

Pattoncakes: aww and they can watch the bunnies playing!

Pattoncakes: I always find them fun to watch when i am sad

Logie Bearry Jam: Watching the rabbits would also be restful enrichment.

A gif of a happy rabbit running wildly around a room appeared on his screen, before swiftly being superseded by a barrage of twitching noses, floppy ears and bouncing bunnies.

Pattoncakes:  i also like taking my laptop in sometimes for paperwork, so i can pop in for a lil lovin socialisation too

He smiled at the mental image of Patton camped out on the floor of the rabbit room, trying to focus on work while Ted Bunndey ate his notebooks. Logan sincerely doubted much work would be completed. But Patton did indeed make for the very finest socialisation.

Pattoncakes: aaaw there are so many cute toys on the market for Avian humanoids!

Pattoncakes: so expensive though

Pattoncakes: look at this! 

He sent a photograph of some over-the-top prince outfit aimed at owners with more money than sense. 

Pattoncakes: Princey would look so cute in this!

Pattoncakes: I don’t suppose it is the kind of thing the avians would actually enjoy though *a sticker with a confused looking pink bear*

Logie Bearry Jam: It is doubtful, though some do enjoy it the way many children enjoy imitating their parents. I believe it to be unsanitary at this stage in their recovery, but if they do express a wish to wear garments it is not unhealthy to do so.

Pattoncakes: you could crochet them matching jumpers!  ;P

Logan and Patton wove a plan together. A shining roadmap, flexible but comprehensive. Something that accounted for their physical recovery and mental capabilities. Rules on how to treat them to build trust, further the concept that they were safe. Ways to let them confirm that they would not be touched without permission, that play did not warrant punishment, that there would always be food.

Their web of plans completed, Logan picked up his crochet hook and resumed working on his blanket, the weight gone from his chest. Their conversation pooled into its regular comfortable flow, chatting back and forth about their respective days at work and discussion of mundane things. It was with regret Logan initiated his goodnight messages and deployed his customary goodnight sticker of a sleepy light blue bear with glasses that reminded him a bit of Patton. Patton sent his customary bombardment of illogical stickers and gif which tonight included a pair of canaries hopping around a bowl of water, a dragon with hearts for eyes, and a psychedelic goat. 

-88888-

In the recovery room of the Animal shelter’s vet clinic, Virgil sat holding a peanut.

The room was almost dark now, the only light the soft glow of a nightlight in the corner that had been left on for them..

He had eaten 6 peanuts, several spinach leaves, and 4 ½ cubes of glorious chicken.

Roman was asleep behind him, his own hunger sated. Opposite them, a pair of rabbits munched hay. The mewling cat had been returned to her owners. It was quiet in the vets now.

Cautiously, he touched his stomach over the bandages. It gurgled happily beneath his fingers.

Virgil smiled.

Chapter Text

Anxiety was huddled at the back, but Princy was next to the water bowl.

“Good morning kiddos.” Patton smiled in.

Princey gave a little wave, and Patton beamed. Anxiety uncurled a little bit too, and after a moment's hesitation, gave a little wave of his own. Patton’s smile increased in intensity.

“Waves from everyone!” He exclaimed softly, “Today really is special!” 

Anxiety gave a shy smile that he tried to cover by fluffing himself up into a shadow-shaded fuzzball. Adorable.

Patton dipped his fingers into his pocket and drew out two blueberries. “Here, I am going to roll these in as a special treat ok?”

Princey actually took a step forward in interest as the fruit rolled towards him. He wrapped both of his tiny hands around the blueberry and held it out towards Patton, much like he had done with the chicken cube the previous day.

“It’s a blueberry. It’s for you.” Patton reassured. Roman nodded to himself and took a bite, and his expression widened with happy surprise. Patton chuckled, “Blueberries are very sweet, so they are only as treats.” He rolled a second one to Anxiety. “And that’s for you.” 

Anxiety regarded the fruit, and Princey’s joyful reception of it, before unfluffing himself and shuffling a few paces forwards. Carefully, he picked it up with his foot, before swiftly transferring it to his hands, his eyes never leaving Patton. Patton smiled and gave a nod of approval. It was progress. 

Princey was getting covered in blueberry juice, and finished off the fruit faster than Patton thought was avianly possible. Anxiety tucked his beneath his wing, presumably to eat once Patton was gone.

Logan quietly entered the room, his vet’s bag tucked beneath his arm.

“Good morning everyone.” He greeted, “How are we all?” 

Princey bopped in place, licking the juice from his hands, and gave a thumbs up. Logan gave him an amused smile.

“They both waved hello to me this morning, so I gave them each a blueberry as a treat.” Patton said proudly.

“That is… very good to hear.” Logan said carefully. Patton nodded, partially in agreement, and partially to reward Logan’s thoughtful word choice. 

Logan set down his bag on the rubber topped examination bench in the corner of the room.

Patton looked back at the avians. They were so confident this morning. Clearly decent food and a good night's sleep had done them wonders.

It made what Patton was about to do feel even worse.

“Hey Logan, maybe I can give them their breakfast now if you want to check on all the other animals first?”

Logan regarded him a long moment before nodding and handing him the keys to the padlock on the avian’s cage. Patton smiled, and scampered off to retrieve some fresh food for the avians. He and Logan had put together a meal plan of suitable nutrition for the recovering avians, and with the wide variety of foods they could eat, it had been easy for Patton to pack a lunchbox of suitable foodstuffs.  By the time he returned to the recovery room, Logan had fed and checked on several of the recovery room’s residents, and had Ted Bunndy up on the examination bench.

“How’s Ted?” Patton picked a rolled oat out of the avian’s breakfast bowl and held it up, “Back to being our little cereal killer?”

“The high carbohydrate content of cereals make them unsuitable for consumption by rabbits in all but the smallest quantities.” Logan replied dryly as he palpated the bunny’s tummy. Patton laughed, and turned to the avian’s cage. The pair had retreated to the back of the cage, but did not seem overly nervous, especially compared to the previous day. He set the bowl atop the cage, and fished the keys from his pocket.

“Ok kiddos. I am going to open the door and give you some breakfast, ok? I will only touch the bowl.” 

The pair did not respond. Anxiety had a white knuckled grip on Princey’s arm, who himself was regarding him warily. Patton flicked off the padlock, and picked up the bowl before sliding back the bolt.

“Here we go kiddos, just a moment.” Patton swiftly switched out the old bowl for the new. The avains did not move until the door was closed and padlocked again. 

“Good boys. Good job. You can eat now.” Patton praised. Princey gave him a tiny stressed smile. Anxiety looked like he had slid sideways into a dissociation episode. 

Logan had put Ted and his companion in carry cases.

“Going off the fact Ted Bunndy nearly took my hand off when I offered him some spinach, I would say his appetite has returned and he is ready to go home.”

“Let’s go put them in the rabbit room now then.” Patton said.

“We can do it after…” Logan started.

“Now.” Patton cut him off.

Logan’s gaze flicked towards the avains and he nodded once before picking up a rabbit carrier and holding it to his chest for stability. Patton picked up the other, and they excited the room quietly.

“We cannot put this off any longer Patton.” Logan muttered.

"It’s just, they were so confident and I don’t want to lose that yet. They are not going to be happy about this," Patton sighed. 

"If we leave their bandages unchanged, there is a high risk of infection. Therefore, it is necessary." Logan's tone was final. The vet was right of course, but Patton couldn’t help but worry about the stress that being touched would bring to the already traumatised and injured pair.

"I know" Patton sighed, “Just, we will explain to them what's happening and why it will help right?” 

“Ok,” Logan hesitated, “That is likely to help... Avian humanoids are sentient and most are able to understand their owner’s language to a high level but…” Logan stared at the floor for a second too long before continuing, “But vets have no training on how to talk to their patients. I fear my attempts to communicate shall be...inadequate.” 

“Oh, I believe in you buddy” Patton gave him a hopeful look, “Do you want a formula to help?”

A prescribed mode of speech always helped Logan, even if he was loathe to admit it. But his heart-smart friend could guide him where his book-smarts ended. 

“Yes please.”

“Ok , sooo...What you are doing, why you are doing it, and how much it will hurt.” Patton gave his soft smile that Logan knew was never patronising,  “Example. I am taking the bandage off, to see your injury, and it will only hurt a little. Got it?” 

“I believe so.” Logan deposited Ted Bunndey into a vacant hutch in the small animal room. Patton gave a tight smile.

“Alright. Let’s go wrangle some bird men.”

-88888-

Patton looked more calm than he felt. Although he knew changing bandages were medically necessary, he really didn’t want the avians to, well, hate him. Still, it was better that he did it rather than one of the vets that the avians neither knew nor trusted.

Patton knelt on the vinyl floor in front of the cage. 

“Ok kiddos, Logan and I are here to give you both a check up.”

Princey’s eyes widened in fear, and he gripped onto Anxiety, who had started to shake.

“So, um, we are just going to pick you up, take the bandages off, have a quick look at your injuries,” Patton swallowed hard. Logan glanced sideways at him, is expression neutral in the way it always was when relieved that someone else was handling social situations. The vet turned to start setting up bandages on the examination bench in the recovery room. 

 “Then we will put a little antiseptic on, which will sting but is super important. It will stop your burns from getting icky and infected. Then we will bandage you back up, nice and clean, give you a delicious piece of tuna as well done, and leave you two alone til lunch. Ok?” He quietly put on a pair of latex gloves that Logan handed him. “Ok, I am going to open the door.” 

The avians scattered. 

Patton shoved down his own rising empathetic panic as Logan ordered him shut the door again before they had the chance to escape the cage. His mouth a slash, the vet retrieved a towel, and threw it over the pair.

After a moment, the panicked skittering slowed to sluggish lumps in the fabric.

“The dark will help calm them a little. We can take one now.” Logan reached slowly under the blanket till he came in contact with a docile bird and pulled it out. As soon as the light hit him, little Anxiety thrashed in his hold, taloned feet kicking as he let out a single short shriek.

“Hey hey hey it’s alright,” Patton cooed, just as Logan reassured the avain with a calm,

“It’s ok, I got you,” And rose smoothly to his feet and walked to the examination bench. Patton settled nervously opposite him.

Logan held Anxiety to his chest for a moment till he judged the struggling had subsided enough to set his feet down on the table, then carefully transferred the avain to Patton’s waiting hands. He held him, fingers pinning the tiny arms to his sides. The birdman shuffled backwards away from the vet, until he hit the solid wall of Patton’s chest, where he could go no further.

"Hey there little guy," Patton crooned.

His toes scrunched into the towel Logan had covered the bench with, while the rest of the bird was still aside from a slight shaking.

“Good job.” Logan congratulated, “I am going to put this,” he held up a thin digital thermometer, “on your back against your wing joint. It will let me know if you are getting a fever. It will not hurt.”

Anxiety squirmed for a second at the cold metal on his back, then settled in Patton’s grip. 

“Very calm, very good.” Patton crooned. They waited patiently until the thermometer beeped, causing Anxiety to lurch out of his dissociation.

“That’s it.” Logan gave a practised reassuring smile, as he slid the device out of the hollow of Anxiety’s wing. He checked it swiftly, and turned it off.

 “I am going to remove your bandages now. I am going to start by loosening bandage adhesive with some of this,” He held up a bottle, and dipped a cotton bud into it, before bringing it slowly towards Anxiety. “It smells a bit strange, but it won't hurt at all.”

Patton nodded in approval at Logan's communication.

The avian jammed his face into Patton's t-shirt as a whiff of the chemical drifted up. 

Logan was not deterred by the action, and started to dab at the steri-strips holding the gauze in place. After a second, he was able to peel off the old bandage. 

Anxiety tried to bury himself further in the t-shirt. Logan’s long fingers aided him, pulling at Patton’s shirt till the material pooled a comforting piece of shadow around Anxiety. Patton took a steadying breath.

“You are doing really well kiddo,” Patton murmured to the shaking ball of feathers.

Logan scrutinised the avian’s ruined chest for a long moment, his face impassive.

 “I am going to spray your chest with some antiseptic. This will prevent infection. It will sting slightly. Now.” Logan directed the spray bottle towards the top of the avian's chest. The bird man hissed at the sting. “And again,” Logan gave him a second spray. Anxiety sagged a bit in Patton's hands, quivering. His heart beat frantically against Patton’s fingers.

“I think he is having a panic attack.” Patton informed the vet.

“We are nearly done. Just focus on breathing for me.” Logan reached for fresh bandages. “Just going to put the bandage back. It won't hurt.” His practiced fingers pinned the pre-prepared gauze to the tiny heaving chest and secured it with extra strength steri-strips.

“So good, so good,” Patton reassured. 

“Ok, that's you done now,” Logan stated, “Patton, you can put him back in his cage.”

Patton adjusted his grip to lift Anxiety carefully from the table. The avian flopped bonelessly, completely lax in his hold.

“Is he ok?” Patton asked in a small voice.

“Mostly likely overwhelmed. Put him down next to the towel hollow.”

Patton carefully lowered the birdman to the floor and tried to set him on his feet, but Anxiety’s legs buckled beneath him. He laid him gently on his side instead, and withdrew his hand.

After barely a moment, Anxiety was back on his feet and beelining to bury himself beneath the towel. 

Patton gave a sigh of relief, and Logan put a hand on his shoulder. He plopped the piece of tuna down where Anxiety had been moments before. It felt like poor compensation.

“It is quite scary, but hopefully now we have shown him it doesn’t hurt, he will be calmer next time. Now we just need to get Princey.” 

Well, one down, one to go. And Princey seemed the more confident of the two, he should have been easier to deal with.

Patton was wrong.

Princey did not want to be scooped out of the towel. Princey wanted to scream the whole time. And boy, for such a small creature, he sure had a set of lungs on him. The frightened wordless babble was the first vocalization Patton had heard Princey make. It should have been a milestone in his recovery. It wasn’t. Patton felt sick. He knew the care of the traumatised twosome wasn’t going to be all sunshine and rainbows, but the tiny avian’s cries were heartbreaking.

Logan moved confidently, spoke reassuringly, did everything right. They managed to manoeuvre him against Patton's chest, and Logan brought out the adhesive loosener, moistening a cotton bud and bringing it to the bandages.

Princey shifted his weight the tiniest bit, one foot shooting out to bat at the stick, before being almost delicately lowered again. “Ok ok ok,” Patton chanted like a prayer. “It’ll be over soon, then you can go home, and get some yummy tuna, it's even better than chicken, I promise, just please…”

Princey stopped screaming, let go of the cotton bud, and allowed Logan to remove the bandages.

“Good boy. You definitely deserve some treats Princey. So brave. Good boy.”

He squeaked and writhed when Logan sprayed him, but quickly settled and allowed Logan to put a fresh bandage on, with the generous application of praises and promises of food.

“All done. Home time, and then reward.”

Princey allowed Patton to lift him and place him back in the cage. He sat patiently till Logan handed him a small block of tuna meat and the little bird tucked into it immediately with a happy squeak. He paid no heed to Logan shutting and locking the cage door. 

At the sound of the door locking, the Anxious lump moved in the blankets. Patton didn’t stare too long to see his beady eyes watching Princey, fearful for his companion's safety.

“We will see you later. For lunch. I-I’m… Just, have a restful morning kiddos.” Patton tried to smile. He grabbed Logan’s hand and fled the room.

“Great…” Patton tried to keep the tremor out of his voice. “That could have gone worse. Could have gone worse.” He pulled his gloves off in disgust, and kept his gaze fixed on the floor. “I am going to go prepare for my clients now. See you later Logan.”

Logan caught his arm before he could turn.

“Can I hug you?” Logan requested. When Patton didn’t protest, he pulled him close, and Patton curled down into him. Logan ran his fingers through Patton’s hair, stroking gently. He didn’t cry, but it was a close thing.

“It was essential that we did that. Even if it was...harrowing to see their reactions. Bandage changes will reduce the chances of life-threatening infections. We prioritised physical health and did everything we could to protect their mental health.” Logan’s voice was ever so soft, and Patton could tell that he too was empathetic to the avian’s predicament, “But, knowing that it is necessary does not make causing distress easy.”

“You did great Logan. Your communication was perfect.” Patton whispered into Logan’s hair. Logan hummed, and some of the tension released from his shoulders too. 

“It looks like Princey is either food motivated, praise motivated, or both.” He said with a hint of humour to his voice. “Let us hope that he likes tuna enough for it to sooth his medical anxiety.”

They stood quietly together for a moment, unwinding from the pressure of carrying futures in their hands. 

"Get a room guys. It's to early for pda in the office." 

Logan dropped his arms and his back went ramrod straight. 

"Aww Remy don't be like that. Platonic touch is important and should be normalised more!"

“Whatever babes, just don’t stand between me and my coffee.” The other vet squeezed past them to the vet’s office.

Patton looked at Logan and smiled, truly this time.

“We are doing a good job. An important job”

“We are indeed.”

Chapter Text

Virgil fazed back in slowly. 

He was aware of Roman crouched by his side most of the time, the gentle darkness around him and the press of the towel against his head. Sometimes awareness stretched to the couple of pieces of hard-boiled egg Roman had laid at his feet. The sight of the food snapped Virgil straight back into dissociation. 

After an indeterminable amount of time Roman took his hands in his and guided them to the ruffled russet feathers on his back. Virgil sank back in at the feeling of the scruffy feathers. He stroked his hand through them once, and Roman shivered with happiness, hunkering down to give Virgil access. 

Ok. He needed to be there to help Roman.

He stroked through each individual feather, smoothing the barbs to hook back together to create seamless whole feathers to keep Roman warm, smooth, pretty, safe. Smooth and hook, smooth and hook. Straighten the feathers dislodged by human hands. Be careful of the additional tender spots where cigarettes had half burned through feathers. It was a familiar movement. 

After a couple of minutes of his ministrations, Roman turned and handed him a crumb of creamy yellow egg yoke. He ate it quickly, then returned to his work. After a few minutes, Roman gave him another hand full of food. Bite by bite, Roman coaxed half a meal of high calorie food into him. 

Virgil didn’t know why the humans were being nice to him. Well, maybe he understood why they were being nice to Roman: Roman was red and pretty, he liked to play and was fun to watch. He used to talk lots and like to be held too, but recent times had extinguished that flame. His old owners had given up on Virgil pretty quickly. Virgil was grey and nervous, and could only make wordless noises that were totally unacceptable.

He wished they could be together safe and sound… where? Not ‘home,’ that was for sure. He had never viewed that place as home, with its grabbing hands and punishments for acting like a living thing with needs and wants of his own. But he didn’t really like it here either. At least at home he vaguely knew what was expected of him. Here, everything was new.

Virgil liked having rules. Rules kept him safe. These people had only given him a few rules, and even those felt more like requests. 

1. Do not pull off the bandages. 
2. Get some sleep (Virgil had been good at that one.)
3. Eat the food you are given. (Again, Virgil had been doing pretty well with this one and had not eaten anything that wasn’t out of their bowl. Though he supposed that there wasn’t a chance to scavenge for food that he had not been given. Not that he had needed to scavenge; the food they had given him was fresh and plentiful. In the old house, it had not, and so he had broken this rule many times. And had been punished for it too. Just thinking about it now sent him into nervous spirals.)
4. Answer the questions... 

Patton had helped by choosing yes/no questions, and hadn't called him stupid or hurt him for his inability to speak. Though why he even cared to listen to them didn't quite make sense, Patton and Logan seemed quite happy when they could answer. Happy when they ate too. Happy, happy, happy with him. 

It was a strange thought. 

Here, he didn’t know what made sense. Even thinking too hard about it made him want to haze back out. Even when they were nice he was still scared! He truly was Anxiety, stupid pathetic Anxiety who couldn’t even enjoy the peaceful times, thank these kind people for the food and praise.

In the old house, it made sense to live in his haze. He could ignore hunger, pain, his own wishes. They had wanted a doll, a silent status symbol, something that could be put away and ignored. Virgil could be that. He had learned how to be good, his old owners had punished him again and again till he was good. But the rules were different here. They wanted him to eat and get well. But he didn’t know if he could change.

He supposed it didn’t matter. They would send him back to the hell house soon enough.

-8888-

Roman breathed a silent sigh of relief as Panic!at the everywhere started to preen his wings.

That had been scary. He had been scared of what a check up would entail. Anxiety had been scared too, but when he was scared he left his body. Roman couldn’t do that. Roman had to be there for the whole frightening ordeal.

And he had been naughty. Batted at Logan's smelly stick.

But instead of punishing him, they had promised him something even better than chicken. 

It occurred to Roman that the humans really genuinely didn’t want to hurt him. Really honestly did not want to cause him this distress.

That had been new.

In the old house, it had been a source of amusement. They would laugh at his discomfort, and only let him go when they were very sure that he was sorry for the transgression of being in the same room as them when they were high. 

But Logan and Patton had said he was a good boy, said he was brave and good. And gave him two treats for being a good boy. Good, good, good.

It felt...nice. To do something right for once.

Logan’s gaze was sometimes calculating, yes, but his fingers were careful and precise, and his reassurances and narration of why he was doing these terrifying things made them less terrifying. It was painful, but he was used to being in pain without reason. Logan said it would stop the burns from going yellow and icky. And Roman knew that they hurt a lot when they were yellow and icky. Logan was trying to help him. It was plain through his actions, through his courtesy.

And Patton was like a sunbeam. He even praised creatures as useless as himself and Brad Pitt-iful when they did things like waved, or gave thumbs up, and even just for eating the food they had so generously given him. Patton didn’t get mad when he was too afraid to speak, reassured them constantly that they were not about to be hurt. Patton was trying to help him. It was plain through his soft words, through the anguish in his voice when he knew Roman was scared.

He decided, there and then, he was going to be good.

-8888-

Logan pushed the door open slowly. He had peeked in a couple of times between appointments to check on them. Anxiety had remained mostly under the towel, but Princey was moving about, watching him silently. He scuttled out again from under the towel as Logan walked into the recovery room.

“Good afternoon you two. I have brought some lunch.” Logan held up the small bowl of food, and moved steadily over to the cage, no sudden movements. Patton had recapped some of his standard trauma therapy speech techniques. Logan still wished he could be there, but the other man was having lunch with one of his community care groups.

He followed a routine similar to that which Patton had done that morning: notify the birds of his actions and provide reassurances. The lock was removed, bowls swiftly swapped for fresh. After multiple careful warnings, he slowly pushed back the towel to check on Anxiety. The avian responded with his usual level of avoidance and Logan let him wriggle straight back under. His movements were not indicative of increased pain or fever, and that was good enough for Logan at that point. He congratulated the pair for bravery, and relocked the cage.

Princey pattered right up to the food bowl, and held up a spinach leaf. He looked nervous.

“It’s delicious spinach. It’s for you.” Logan followed Patton’s standard food reassurance. Princey nodded.

“Thank you Logan.”

The voice was quiet and creaky, but definitely there.

Chapter Text

Roman had spoken.

His voice had been raspy and not princely at all, but he supposed he hadn’t used it in so long (aside from all the shouting during his checkup).

Logan had given him another blueberry. Logan said he was a good boy, a brave boy, a good brave boy.

He could speak.

-88888-

Roman had spoken.

It had gone quite well, Virgil thought. Logan had said he was happy, and hadn’t taken their food away. He clutched a peanut to his chest.

“Don’t worry Dr. Gloom,” Roman whispered, out loud, using words, “He said he was proud.” 

Still, Virgil would prepare for the worst, and hope for the best.

-88888-

Princey had spoken.

Logan was pleased to see the clear increase in confidence Princey had undergone in such a short space of time. He was honoured that the avain had first chosen to speak to him. Patton had been slightly disappointed he wasn’t there to hear his ‘brave baby’s first words,’ but was effervescent in his enthusiasm, and praised Logan for his positive reception of the unexpected move.

He pushed open the door to the recovery room for the umpteenth time that day to check on his patients (a cat with an injured forepaw, a bag-of-bones stray rabbit, and a few other pets that had been admitted to the clinic). There was a collection of rustling and tearing noises which stopped abruptly as Logan entered the room. It was probably the rabbit. Logan strode to the hutch, and sure enough there was a pair of red eyes peeking out from mounds of torn newspaper and strewn hay.

“Having fun bun?” Logan murmured (the slang clearly a product of spending too much time around Patton and Remy). The rabbit stared back with curiosity and wariness. “You can tear the paper if you want. I shall get you a box to play with.” Logan informed the animal softly. The painfully thin bunny needed more soft humans in her life.

Behind him came the sound of paper ripping slowly. Logan diverted his attention to the avians' cage. 

Princey was sitting towards the front of the cage, a nest of thin newspaper strips woven around him, watching Logan’s reaction intently. Logan turned on his full focus on handling a situation with nervous individuals and projecting a safe and comforting atmosphere.

“Are you bored too Princey?” Logan asked. Princey shrugged shyly in answer. Logan took a few steps towards the cage to address the avians more directly. He took a moment to study the bird man before him. Brightly alert eyes, improving skin tone, wariness down to manageable levels, and his bandage appeared to be free of seepage or other mess. Princey was looking a world away from the scrappy ball of feathers he had the previous day.

“You seem to be doing better. I am very proud. I will talk to Patton about finding you both some toys.” Logan smiled as Princey seemed to perk up even more at the praise. “You still need a plenty rest of course. And ensure that you do not agitate… ah, um, make your injuries go bad again by moving around too much.”   

Logan looked at the pile of destruction the little bird had made. Newspaper was fine… but Logan was worried about the fibrous nature of the towel should it be chewed or plucked in boredom. He had been willing to give it to them earlier as a comfort item, but he wanted it back. Anxiety was a lump in the fabric, and it would also be beneficial to be able to view the skittish avian. Alternative housing would be beneficial. Logan moved swiftly to a box of supplies to find a smaller piece of synthetic material that they were unlikely to be able to unravel or ingest.

“And I… ah. I am going to do a swap. Anxiety?” As expected, there was no response. Logan continued anyway. “I have a new hidey box for you. I am going to open the door, put it against the back wall, and then take the towel. Ok?”

Princey started to look a bit nervous, and retreated as Logan unlocked the cage and slowly opened the door. He tucked himself half under the towel next to the Anxiety blob.

“Box first. I will not touch you.” He put in a small cardboard box lined with soft material and open at both ends. Princey watched the huge hands pass overhead.

“Good job.” Logan withdrew his hands and gave them a moment to adjust before he took back the towel. “Would you like to go in?” 

There was a slight scuffle under the towel, and a muffled ‘Logan’s safe.’ before Princey dragged a reluctant Anxiety out from under the towel and directly into the new box.

“Good job. Very brave Anxiety.” Logan removed the towel and left two blueberries in its wake. “Patton will come by later with some fun things to do. But no more scary stuff today.” 

Logan locked up swiftly and mentally congratulated himself on navigating yet another challenging interaction. It was very difficult for him to tiptoe around the intelligent avians with the care required not to traumatise them, but it was heartening to see them warming up to him. Still, he would be glad when Patton retook the exhausting role of primary communicator.

-888-

Princey had spoken!!!!

Patton had nearly squealed out loud when Logan had given him the news, and he had been waiting eagerly all day to see the avians again. Princey definitely seemed like he would become an extroverted bundle of energy, possibly sooner rather than later. Anxiety was harder to get a read on, but Patton would continue to monitor his reactions to figure out the best way for Anxiety to find happiness. 

When he entered the room, Princey was sitting in a woven nest of newspaper. He got to his feet when Patton and Logan entered, but made no move to skitter away. Considering the last time both Logan and Patton had been in the room it had been for a quite stressful bandage change, Patton was surprised but glad their presence didn’t warrant a more fearful reaction. There was no sign of Anxiety, so presumably he was still sequestered in the box.

“Evening kiddos, how was your day?” Patton spoke softly. Princey waved shyly, then gave a thumbs up. “Good day for Princey? Glad to hear it! Logan has been telling me how good you have both been today!” Patton tapped his chin in mock thoughtfulness. “Let’s see; Our little grey feather-cloud was very brave to come out from under the blanket when he was nervous, and our little Prince spoke for the first time!”

“I did.” Princey gave an adorably shy little unsure smile. Patton just about exploded from the cuteness.

“Very brave.” he said softly instead, “It is lovely to hear your voice. Anytime."

 Logan pushed open the door to the room, hefting a stool under his arm. He gave the avians a smile, and plonked it down in front of the cage. Patton squeezed his arm affectionately, and the vet gave him an equally warm smile before moving off to check on the other animals. Patton knew he would be listening in, and respected his friend’s need to take a break from conversation.

“Thank you Logan,” Patton sat down, “I’ll be at the right level for a good conversation now. Because... Logan mentioned you two are getting bored now you are feeling a bit better, so I have brought some toys and fun stuff!” Patton lifted a tupperware box. He had raided the cupboard of his niece’s art supplies for suitable avian enrichment toys, careful to choose ones that could be easily sanitised for their current health requirements. “I have a couple of bits and pieces here, and we will see what you like! Oh, and the door is going to remain closed and locked today, so no need to worry about interruptions so much.” Patton pulled out a couple of choice pieces from the pile in his box. “Ok, we will start with these!”

Patton slid a few pieces of chopped up drinking straw through the bars. Princey regarded them with curiosity. 

“I cut them into lots of different lengths. I was hoping we could make some fun games with them… do you have your creative hat on?” Patton asked jovially.  Princey nodded eagerly, and Anxiety peeked his head a fraction out of his cardboard shelter in either interest or trepidation. Princey picked up a thin sliver of straw and slid it onto his wrist.

“Hey, Jazzy bracelet!” Patton praised, “Very cool, very creative thinking!”

“Thanks.” Princey blushed, pleased, and slid a few more on before raising his arms and shaking the bangles. Patton glanced slyly at Anxiety, who was definitely watching his straw-clad companion with interest. He probably just needed a lil bit of a push to join in.

“Nice noise!” Patton cooed. “Do you want to share some?” Patton gestured minutely to Lurking Shadow, who immediately ducked back into the hidey house at the attention. Princey nodded eagerly and skittered towards his friend, grabbing his wrist. Anxiety flinched back and bared his teeth in displeasure at the unexpected touch. Patton briefly wondered if he should step in to mediate, but Princey quickly slowed, and cocked his head, moving his hands slightly. Anxiety’s face went through a contorted range of expressions till he finally decided to stick his wrist out. Patton cooed internally. His clever avians had clearly had strong non-verbal communication between them, and it was as cute as it was fascinating. Princey slid the bangle on, put one hand into Anxiety’s, and held the other skywards.

“Aww kiddos, you are both so cute!” Patton beamed and clapped his hands. Princey tapped a little happy dance, and Anxiety blushed shyly, but seemed to also enjoy the praise.

So cute.

They tried out several more of the longer pieces of straw, Princey coming to the front to collect a piece or two from the pile Patton had put down, then scuttling backwards to present one to Anxiety, still half inside the shelter box. Both seemed to be having fun just investigating them. Patton had a handful of his own which he made a show of contemplating, and occasionally made comments, some of which were echoed by Princey, who gradually spoke more as he relaxed into the play session. Princey bashed some longer tubes against each other, and crowed in delight at the hollow thunk it made. Anxiety had a little chew on his bracelet, and seemed to enjoy the texture. Next, Patton unloaded some water bottle caps. These were quickly refashioned as hats. 

“I am a noble Prince!” Princey brandished a long straw, and bonked Anxiety straight on the head.

“Hey now,” Patton admonished gently, “No fighting with friends. Need to make sure it's fun for everyone, ok?” Princey looked a bit guilty, and Anxiety sidled close to him, “ You need to look after each other, especially when he is your best knight against the invisible monsters!” Patton took a straw himself and mimed sword fighting, making whooshing noises. Princey soon lightened up and copied him. They both seemed to be having fun, though Patton did not miss the occasional pained wince when they made movements that were too big. Anxiety dipped in and out of the shelter as his energy started to wane. As much as Patton wanted the kiddos to have fun and unwind, the realities of their current condition meant that some of the new toys would have to wait for another night.

“Back to camp, my brave knights!” Patton spoke brightly, “I think that is enough monster hunting for today, and it is probably time for a well earned nap! And dinner too, before Logan and I go and leave you to your evening.”

Princey nodded after a second, and started to gather up the straws regretfully, piling them near the front of the cage. Patton stopped him.

“What are you up to kiddo?”

“Thank you for letting us use your toys.” Princey beamed a fake smile, “You take them back?”

“Oh no Princey, they are for you two.” Patton’s sadness was extinguished when the joy relit in the avian’s eyes. “You can keep them. See if you can think of even more games to show me tomorrow right?”

“Yes sir!” Princey nodded frantically, his enthusiasm shining under his veneer of seriousness.

“Just be careful not to hurt yourself, and make sure you still sleep lots ok? Brave knights need their rest when they still have… wounds from previous battles.”

“Thank you.” Princey’s voice was still small and scratchy, but Patton knew it was getting stronger.

“You are very welcome. Now go check on your fellow knight, and I will go get you some dinner sorted.”

Chapter Text

They were back in the morning. Patton, Logan, and Logan’s big vet’s bag.

Virgil shuffled back till he was completely out of sight, making sure his tail feathers were tucked in behind him, even though he knew that there was nothing he could do to stay out of reach. Moving hurt, jostling the burn wounds under his bandages. He was tired. He really didn’t want to be touched. Roman remained standing just outside the cubby hole, watching them. Virgil cringed down into a small ball, and Roman reached out calmly to lay a hand on his shoulder, seemingly to be at ease.

-It’s ok- his expression spoke loud and clear, -they won’t hurt us-

The night before, as they ate spinach in the dull glow of the nightlight, Roman had laid out his reasoning as to why the humans didn’t really want to hurt them, why they were being nice and giving them toys. Virgil had found himself almost believing him at points.

But not enough to let them touch him.

But he didn’t have a choice in the matter.

“Morning kiddos. I hope you both slept well.” Patton’s voice was right outside the cage, voice soft but too loud too loud, he was so much bigger than Virgil. “So, we are going to do another bandage change now ok? It’ll be pretty much exactly the same as yesterday, but when you're done, we are going to transfer you to a nice new clean cage. It’s going to be just fine… Logan?”

“I am ready.” The vet’s voice came from the other side of the room.

-It’s ok.- Roman’s hand on his shoulder was the only real thing right now. A moment later it was gone.  

Roman didn’t shout when they picked him up this time. The cage door swung shut with a clang of metal. Roman was gone. Virgil was starting to go as well, his breath quickening, phasing in and out to catch snippets of what was happening between the tttthhhruming buzz roar of static in his head.  They praised Roman for his good behaviour, said he was brave for sitting still and he was a good boy. But Virgil couldn’t be a good boy, couldn’t be a brave boy and thhhhhhh they weren’t going to be happy with him thhhhh Virgil was the bad pet, could never follow instructions too stupid, too anxious...

They told Roman it was nearly over but that would mean they would come for him instead and he wasn’t ready… the door of the next cage shut but no Roman came to greet him. They had taken Roman away taken Roman away… Vigil was a bad influence and everything he touched was bad, so they had taken Roman away so he wouldn’t be tainted and tthhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh...

Virgil was so busy panicking, he didn’t even notice the human hands around him till he was already halfway to the towel topped examination bench. He kicked his legs in a burst of fear, before freezing as pain shot through him. Above him, Patton cooed reassuring babble as he was set on the table. After a moment they coalesced into actual words.

“Hey, that’s a good boy, hey, hey. It’s going to be fine, just like yesterday.”

Jokes on Patton, Virgil had not been mentally present for yesterday.

“...put this against your back. It will not hurt…” Logan’s hands were coming close, and Virgil tried to scrunch up into a ball as a foreign thing was pushed against the tender spot where his wings met his back.

“You are a little wriggle man today aren’t you?” Patton murmured. He didn’t seem to be angry though. Virgil stopped moving anyway. After what seemed like forever there was a loud beep and the thing against his back was removed. 

Logan looked at the stick, before giving Virgil a slight smile.

“Looks ok for now. I am…” Logan’s hands came closer, and the rest of his words faded into a buzz. Virgil’s head was abruptly enveloped by soft blue material. He took a few deep breaths, till the world cleared a bit more into the dark blue cave where only he was. The hands around him weren’t so uncomfortable if he really considered it. The warmth was real, keeping him tethered away from the buzzz. He leaned back into the material and warmth. He could hear Patton’s steady heartbeat behind him. Logan said something he didn’t pay attention to, then there was a whiff of chemicals, and a gentle patting of his shoulders where the bandages were strapped to his chest, and again at his hips. He hoped vaguely that it wouldn’t get the smelly on his hips again, as it was a nightmare to groom out of the feathers. 

“You are being very good Anxiety. I am very pleased. I am going to remove the gauze now. It shouldn’t hurt.”

And it didn’t hurt. Logan’s fingers were gentle as they pulled away the bandages. Virgil shivered as the material was lifted away from his ruined chest. He could hear some movement from the vet’s direction, but he was safe in his material cave. After a moment, a sour smell registered, one that Virgil was acutely familiar with, having had infected wounds many times before.

The vet was quiet for a long moment.

“That looks very painful Anxiety. I think I have something that might help.” There came the sound of Logan moving something heavy, peeling Velcro, getting something out of his big scary bag.

“Ok, I am going to give you some lidocaine. It will not hurt.”

“What’s lidocaine?” Patton’s voice reverberated around him.

“It’s a topical analgesic.” A beat passed, “I spray it on your skin and it takes the pain away. It… might feel a bit strange for a while. Your chest will go numb, but I assure you it’s fine. I am going to spray you now. Now.”

Cold liquid hit his chest, and he did a full body twitch, fighting to keep himself still. He was safe in his dark soft cave, safe in his dark soft cave.

After a second, the pain ebbed away to nearly nothing.  

Virgil was, 

So confused.

“Ok. I am going to clean out one of the burst blisters. It won't hurt but you need to stay still.” 

Something touched his chest, but it was all strange, like the edges were fuzzy. Virgil let out a short worried whine and pushed himself against Patton’s chest. 

“Hey, it's alright kiddo, you are being so brave, such a good boy…” Patton’s soft voice reverberated all around him. But his chest felt weird and not-there, and so Virgil wondered if he too should be not-there. It was dark and soft in his cave, with the gentle and soft voice and the fingers against him strange so strange. The feeling of unreality blossomed, and he slipped into it like a well worn coat, letting the familiar ttthrum of dissociation enveloped him in its comfortable grasp.

                                                                                                                                      -8888-

“150 grams including container and cloth” Logan’s voice filtered through the fuzz. Virgil was sitting in a container, his blanket draped over his head. His bandages had been changed, the sour smell gone, but the painless numbness had stayed.

"... Good boy kiddo, we’re nearly done, you have been such a good boy." Patton was wrapping his massive fingers back around Virgil as he returned to his body. Virgil wriggled in surprise and freed his arms before Patton could grip him fully. 

“Ooop I missed his arms.” Patton picked him up gently. 

“It doesn’t matter, as we are just going to return him to his cage now. I am just going to grab the cloth to weigh it. "

The blanket started to slide off his head and Virgil grabbed for it to keep his quiet cave intact. There was a gentle tug on the fabric, but he tightened his grip and tugged back.

“Hmm. Can I have the cloth please Anxiety?...”

“Maybe we can stick him back home first?”

“Ah. Of course. You are all done Anxiety, we will return you to Princey now.” There was the jangle of metal as Logan opened up the door to the cage. Virgil let go of the cloth in preference of gripping Patton’s fingers as he was moved away from Patton’s warm chest and onto a newspaper covered floor.

“You have done really well kiddo,” Patton released him, “Very brave. Tuna reward for you. I am going to take the cloth off now.”

The blanket was pulled off him slowly, and Virgil blinked for a second in the light. The grey hidey box was in front of him and he skittered speedily into it, nearly crashing into Roman, who immediately opened his arms to catch Virgil up into a hug. Virgil melted into it, careful not to smoosh his friend’s injuries in his quest for comfort.

But honestly?

That had not been half as bad as Virgil had expected.

Things were still weirdly numb, but he was glad of it. With Roman’s hands stroking his shoulders where the skin transitioned into grey back feathers, Virgil drifted into sleep.

Chapter Text

Anxiety was sick.

Again.

Roman knew how to handle this. The Storm Cloud was always getting sick, and Roman was always there to look after him.

The frustrating thing is he hadn't been when he had first got back. In fact, his friend had been remarkably present considering his usual distaste for being in the hands of humans and had gladly snuggled down with Roman afterwards. But by the time Roman had woken up Anxiety had been pale and hot. 

Roman hadn't thought the humans were going to hurt them. He had wanted so bad for it to be true, for this phase of niceness to last. But that was before Anxiety got properly sick. Now who knew. Sick was bad, sick was bothersome. And although these humans had helped them out a lot already, with food and bandages to stop the hurts from going bad, perhaps this would be the last straw… their owners had said many times when Ani had been less sick that they would… would…

But it was no matter.

Roman could make it better.

He stroked his hand through Anxiety’s hair once, before heading over to the water bowl. He had no spare cloth to use, but Patton had given them bottle caps to play with! Yes! Very clever Roman, very creative. Roman was going to make the Storm Cloud better and the humans would never realise anything was ever wrong! They wouldn’t realise that Anxiety got sick, they wouldn’t threaten to separate them, they wouldn’t get mad at Ani for always being ill. Roman was going to look after him.

He filled the bottle cap with water before carrying it carefully over to his companion. His hands were full, and he couldn’t speak right now, so he bumped the bottlecap against Anxiety’s arm. The Storm Cloud cracked open an eye to look at him, before reaching out shaking hands. Roman helped him to lift the cap to his mouth, and his friend drank deeply.

-Cold- Anxiety flicked his hand wearily.

- Not. cold.- Roman replied sadly. Anxiety shrugged and closed his eyes again. Roman held a hand against his hot forehead. Not good. But water was good. He went to get another bottlecap of water.

This time, he poured it over Anxiety’s head.

Anxiety let out a slight whining breath of displeasure and batted himself in the face.

“ ‘s ok” Roman breathed out, his words only just audible. Little damp Storm Cloud puffed up unhappily, and tried to snuggle his wet body back against Roman. He allowed it, hands trailing through Anxiety’s wet hair. He would get more water later, but for now, he held his friend close.     

-8888-

The door to the room opened, and Roman could hear the steps of the vet outside.

Humans. Hmmm. That was bad.

Roman had doused Storm Cloud with water a couple of times now, but the unnatural heat still poured off his friend. Maybe they weren't even here to see them? Maybe it would be ok and they were just here to check on the kitten, or the thin rabbit...

“Good morning Anxiety, Princey. I am just here to see how you are doing. I don’t need to open the door if you can just come out of the box for me?” Logan spoke softly. Roman winced. 

He peeled himself out of Dr Gloom’s embrace, and pasted a smile onto his face. Anxiety barely responded.

Roman would protect his friend.

Putting a pep in his step, he scuttled from the box, and waved at the vet.

“Hello Princey, good to see you are doing well,” Logan gave him a brief smile, “Do you think you can encourage Anxiety out as well?”

Roman’s smile didn’t falter as he cocked his head in attentiveness, before shaking it slightly. No. He mimed sleeping.

“Sleep is good, well done. However, I really need to see him now. Just for a moment. Can you get him please?”

Roman hugged his arms around himself, squeezing hard enough to irritate the wounds on his chest. His smile could not look genuine by now. 

“Anxiety, please come out, or I will have to open the cage.” Logan spoke softly. Roman wondered if that softness would stay once he discovered Anxiety’s infirmity. He couldn’t risk it. 

“I am just going to open the door and come check on you.”

The keys jangled and the door swung open. Roman swept up a piece of straw. It was time to improvise. The massive hand invaded their home, angling towards the hidey-house, seeking out Anxiety. Roman was just going to have to be more interesting.

He hopped up onto the hand.

 “Oh…” Logan’s hand stilled completely, and Roman took the chance to bop one of his fingers with the straw. “Hello Princey, it is nice to see you but I can't play right now.” He tilted his hand, trying to gently tip Roman off, but he gripped on to the weird rubber gloves with his feet and hands.

“Ok, I am just going to pat your head for a moment if that’s ok?” Logan shimmied his other hand into the cage and brushed a careful finger over Roman’s curls. He didn’t want to be touched right now, too highly strung, but he forced himself to endure it. After a second, the touches stopped, and the vet pulled at the edge of the box so he could look in. Roman tried to bring the attention back to him, whining and crawling up Logan’s arm.

“Hello Anxiety, I am just going to pick you up to check on you.” Logans swiftly scooped Anxiety out of the box.

No! That was the worst thing that could happen. Roman flared out his wings threateningly. The vet ignored him.

“Ah, you are all wet.” Logan frowned. Anxiety wriggled weakly in his grasp, “And seem to have a high temperature…” 

Roman leapt off the vet’s other hand, over to his companion, desperately clinging onto Logan’s fingers.

“It’s going to be ok, I am going to take him…”

No no no no! Their old owners had said that if Ani got sick again they would take him away! That he was too much bother! Anxiety whimpered as he was lifted. Please, please don’t take his friend away…

Roman sank his teeth into the vet’s hand.

“Ow, Princey, off.” Logan’s voice was stern, one of those huge hands coming to push him away. Roman flared out his wings at it and screamed with all the threat he could manage.

“Princey, it'll be OK." Logan's voice was back to being gentle, but his hand was splayed, a barrier between Roman and his friend. "He needs some medicine to make him better…" 

But all that Roman could see was tinted red and those large fingers nearly hiding Anxiety from view. He couldn't be alone, they had to stay together.

He didn't care that he would regret this, just rushed back into the vet’s hand, pounding the giant fingers with his hands and biting wherever he could get his jaw around the massive digits. 

Next thing he knew he was enveloped in a towel. He wriggled for a moment more, but the material was heavy. He caught his breath, and furled his wings back close to his body. 

The darkness was soft around him, the sound of the cage door closing muffled.

“I am going to get some medicine. I am not going to hurt Anxiety. He will be back with you as soon as he is well enough. Anxiety, I am going to put you in this box for now and get my friend Remy to come and help me with your medicine. We are going to stay super calm and get this sorted out.”

Roman whimpered, oppressive under the blanket.

He had failed.

-8888-

“Hey Princey,” Patton eyed the blob in the fabric. Logan had called him, and given a hurried explanation as to the avian’s mental state just before the vet had whisked off Anxiety to give him medicine for a rising fever. 

Poor kiddos.

“Hey Princey,” he repeated, “I am just here to keep you company kiddo, just until Anxiety gets back. He will be back soon.” The blob moved at that. “Logan is going to help him. Going to make him feel better. You don’t have to worry. Logan is very good, he will look after him well.” The lump in the blanket heaved a muffled sob. “Oh kiddo. You have been so brave, trying to look after him. But we are here to help you…” Patton kept up a litany of reassurances going till the sobs of the blanket ball receded. After a while, he switched to stories of Logan’s prowess as a vet, and of cute stories of his friend, painting him as the gentle and trustworthy man he was. Princey wriggled out from under the blanket to listen to Patton’s stories better, eyes filled with hope and cheeks streaked with tears. 

Eventually, Logan returned, Anxiety swaddled in a towel and held in his arms. 

"Anxiety has got a bad fever, but we have successfully given him medicine to help." Logan spoke softly, addressing Princey. "We are going to do our best to help him fight off infection. But that means he has to stay in a warm place for a little while.” 

Princey pressed himself to the bars of the cage, eyes zeroed in on his friend, expression despondent. Logan strode over to the row of intensive-care incubators, and Princey let out a whimper as he lost sight of Anxiety again, scaling the bars of his cage, uncaring of Patton standing just a foot away. 

“Logan, is there any way Princey can join him in the incubator?” Patton asked quietly. Logan fiddled with the dials on the machine.

“Perhaps. Can we talk in the office for a moment?”

“Ok,” Patton smiled softly at Princey, not letting his worry show. “Anxiety is all snuggly in the box now, exactly where he needs to be. Logan and I are going to have a quick chat outside for a moment, but we will be right back.”

 Logan closed the door to the recovery room behind them. 

“Anxiety had been doused in cold water, which could have caused a creature of his size to go into shock. I am sure Princey was trying to help, but it may have worsened his condition as well as soaking his bandages. And while I didn’t believe that they would be aggressive towards each other…” Logan picked the first aid kit out of his desk drawer, and peeled off his vinyl gloves, revealing fingers littered with tiny cuts, “Princey has been uncharacteristically aggressive today.”

“He did all that?” Patton took Logan’s hands gently.

“Avian’s jaws are significantly stronger than humans for their size, and he was most upset.” Logan pulled his hands back, “Though his aggression was in protection of Anxiety, his distress may cause him to act in unpredictable ways. It was not helpful for him to try and restrict my access to Anxiety like that.” Logan wiped his fingers with alcohol. “Anxiety needs rest, something he won't get if he is being disturbed by a healthy companion, even one with good intentions. And for that matter, Princey is not a healthy companion. I worry that if he continues to fight to try and defend Anxiety, that his own wounds will be reopened and vulnerable to infection.” 

“Princey won't be able to rest if they are apart. They need to be as close as possible to each other.” Patton fiddled nervously.

Logan focused on bandaging his fingers for a moment.

“I can put him in a cage in front of the incubator. They would be able to see each other through the glass.” he spoke decisively. “Or I can put him in a cat carrier inside the incubator unit itself, if you think we can persuade him not to put water on Anxiety anymore. He would have limited space, but that is probably a good thing to restrict movement at this point. We can work something out.”

They sat in silence for a moment, Logan bandaging his fingers.

“How long do you think Anxiety is going to be in there?” Patton asked quietly. Logan stilled completely.

“His condition has deteriorated very quickly. He may take some time to recover, if… if indeed he can recover…”

The words dropped like stones from Logans mouth, tolling like bells in Patton’s ears for a still, horrible moment, “But he's exactly where he needs to be right now.” Logan rushed the last sentence, unconsciously repeating Patton’s words to Princey as Patton stared at him in dread. Despite only being with them for 3 days, they had become attached to the little humanoid avians. “I think we will have a clearer idea by this evening, but anticipate he will need treatment throughout the night.”

“Ok,” Patton’s voice caught, “Ok.” he repeated. “Let’s get them back together. I have a group this afternoon, but I will sit in there with them to make sure they are both… settled.” 

Chapter Text

Virgil was aware he was hot.

He thought maybe he had been sitting here a while. Stray thoughts slipped easily around his head.

Close by, Roman was pressed against the bars of a pet carrier, his face different every time Virgil phased back in enough to notice; smiling or worried or strange. Sometimes he would hum, and Virgil would sway drunkenly along, or hum out of key with him, brain alight with the frenzy of heat.

Other times, he sat stock still, his legs locked in standing as he drifted from fitful sleep to delirium to places where he couldn’t tell where his already hazy grip on reality had completely failed him.

He knew he was sick.

Maybe they would be tired at him for being sick again and again and again. Maybe they would decide that this time enough is enough, that he was sick too often to be worth fixing. They had said it before. Said it when he was a little hatchling. It had made him scared.

He was too tired to be scared now.

But he wished he didn’t have to leave Roman.

-8888-

“Please open your mouth Anxiety. Please.”

Dull pain throbbed in his jaw where they had squeezed his cheeks to try and get him to open his mouth.

He had come back to his body too late. He opened his mouth and lunged for the syringe, hoping it would be enough to make up for his misdemeanour.

“Good lad!” The voice sounded softly relived.

The liquid tasted bad. He receded to the back of his head, only a thread of thought connecting him to the world. There was a blip in time and he briefly registered strawberry taste. When the liquid stopped and the syringe was removed, the thread slipped from his grasp too.

-8888-

It was hot and Virgil was scared.

He peeped a high-pitch baby peep, hoping for someone to hear him and make it ok.

“Storm Cloud, you’re alright.” An adult’s voice. Virgil peeled open his eyes to see the adult close by, but he was behind bars. Virgil didn’t hesitate at the stranger’s predicament, careering over on wobbly legs, desperate for comfort. He slammed himself into the bars and his chest flared with pain. Why was he in pain? He couldn’t remember.

“Careful!” The adult breathed.

Virgil started to cry.

“Oh you’re ok, you’re ok sweetheart, you’re going to be ok…” The adult was crying too as he raked his fingers through Virgil’s sweaty hair. The touch was nice, he was exhausted from the heat. He drifted back down into rest, his hands curled around the bars and his head resting against the other avian.

“Sleep and rest Ani. You’re my best friend. Sleep and rest.”  

-8888-

Strawberries! Mmmm capri sun and hot weather. Summer summer summer. Virgil was in a cloud soft soft drinking strawberries. Nice. Moving through the fuzz was impossible, but he didn’t want to move.

“I think he may be hallucinating, but he seemed to enjoy that.”

He had enjoyed the strawberries, yummy yummy strawberries.

He drifted back off.

-8888-

He was in a box, he was in the bad boy box, they had caught him, and his chest hurt so much.

He didn’t want to cry because he knew he deserved it. He was bad and ugly and could never do as he was told. He was too boring and too anxious to play right. It was more fun to hurt him instead. He had hidden and he had got caught and that was bad too because I own you, you can’t run from me.

He was sobbing, pressed up against the wall of the box. He had to stay quiet, but he couldn’t, he just couldn’t.

“Hey Storm Cloud, come here.” Roman’s voice was thick with emotion. Virgil puttered a few steps over towards his voice, leaning on the wall. It was tiring. He was crushed with fear and pain. Another sob tore from his throat.

“You’re sick. Logan and the other vet have been giving you medicine, Storm Cloud, they are going to fix it,” Roman’s voice cracked and Virgil knew he was too flawed to be fixable, always a fuck up. He wanted to wriggle out of his skin.

“You have to keep fighting it Ani.”

Roman was pretty, Roman could do as he was told, Roman always hoped the best of people even as he was shown their rotten cores. Roman would hope and fear and hope all over again.

Virgil was tired. But he couldn’t let Roman down.

A door opened nearby, and Vigil cringed with fear, bowing forwards to look as sorry as he felt. Sometimes it helped, and they just laughed and called him pathetic for a while before they hurt him. He curled up and focused on quieting his thundering breath as he shook.

“You’re up for another round of medicine Anx-ie.”

Another sob tore out of him without permission. He never cried this loudly what was wrong with him, gah, why couldn’t he just shut up.

“Anxiety? Baby, you alright?”

Fear finally stifled his ability to make any sound, but he crushed his hands against his mouth anyway.

“Hey hey hey baby, no one is going to hurt you, you have a fever and it is making everything scary right now, but I promise no one wants to hurt you…” A voice of with soft tones and a thick twang of accent. “…here, can I stroke your head a little? My name is Remy, and I am here to give you medicine to get you feeling better. You’re safe here.”

A draft of cold air, a hand reaching out, fingers outstretched. He curled into himself. The bad boy box was bad but being taken out was worse. The finger brushed against his hair once, and then again. It was gentle. Gentle enough to allow a whimper to break out. Despite the noise, the third touch was also gentle.

A few more pats and he was sliding sideways from fevered hypervigilance into dissociated exhaustion.

-8888-

Cold cold coldcoldcoldcold. Virgil slapped his face in displeasure and crooned sorrowfully. Somewhere, someone was singing, formless words Virgil couldn’t parse past the chill, but somehow he knew it was some he loved, someone safe.

He went back to sleep.

-8888-

It was hot.

He was in a white box with a glass front, and there was a humming noise all around him, soft and constant. It was kinda nice actually. Roman was in a cat carrier for some reason, busying himself constructing a nest out of tissue paper. It looked pretty cosy. His chest had faded from inflamed agony to a constant ache and painful twinges. Maybe he could lie down in it some time.

For now, he tucked his hands under his chin and settled to sleep standing, surrounded by the humming box, with Roman close by.

-8888-

Virgil returned to his body with cool liquid flowing down his throat. He had apparently acted on autopilot to accept the end of a syringe into his mouth and to swallow the liquid as it was gently fed to him. That was good. He had been syringe fed enough in the past to know how angry it made his handlers when he refused it. It was one of the first things he can remember, being sick, being taken away from his brood as his body failed to fight infection, as his brood mates learned to speak. Even when he went back, he could never speak like them, and his handlers had been even madder. It was better to run on autopilot and do as he was told.

The syringe was removed from his mouth, and he licked the last drops of liquid of his lips automatically.

“Good lad Anxiety, good lad.” Logan’s voice filtered down to him. “That should help take you fight infection to get your temperature down.” The voice moved and tone shifted, “We’ll try get 20cc of rehydration supplement as well since he is cooperative.”

“Hear that Anx? Logie is going to give you the good stuff, strawberry flavour. It’s got electrolytes baby.”

The syringe was back, and the fuzz receded completely at the burst of synthetic strawberries undercut by a weird chemical taste. It was strange, but he was too tired to care, too tired to be scared.

He drank for a long time. It was cool and refreshing and the blanket around his body was soft. He scrunched his fingers into it and focused on swallowing. Logan was gentle and slow, and never impatient. The other person’s voice was bright and humour filled, but not like Patton’s soft encouragement. He couldn’t spare the concentration to work out what he was saying.

“20cc done. That’s good.”

The hands holding him were tan, but not as dark as Patton’s skin. He twisted around to try and see who was holding him.

“Are you having a look about Anx-ie?” The new person spoke with soft amusement.

Logan appeared in front of him, and Virgil scrunched back down into the blanket.

“Hello Anxiety.” He breathed, “You do seem more lucid, don’t you? Nice bright eyes.” Relief was stark in the vet’s eyes and Virgil nearly choked on the softness of his expression. What was going on? They were never this nice when he was sick. Where was Roman? What was, what was going on?

“Try take deep breaths Anxiety, we’ll get you back to your box and to Roman. You have been very good taking your medicine, and I want you to get lots of rest.”

He was lifted and cradled, and cool air played over his skin. Then the box with the glass front. Virgil stumbled right over to Roman, who held him through the bars and looked up at the vets with that damnable hope in his eyes.

“His temperature has come down a lot, and he seems to be much more aware of his surroundings,” Logan’s voice was gentle, “We are going to keep giving him medicine, and he needs lots of rest, but he is definitely looking better.”

“Thank you.” Roman’s voice was tremblingly high, surprisingly loud.

“We are here to care for you. I will always do everything in my power to look after both of you.” The vet spoke seriously. “I want you both to rest well now.” And he and the other vet left with quiet movements.

Virgil propped his chin against his shoulder as his Roman began to shake with tears.

They fell asleep in each other’s warmth.