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“IGNIS!” Noct’s blood ran cold at Gladio’s shout. His body froze for just a moment, wanting to delay the inevitable. Everything slowed to a crawl as he stared at his trusted advisor. Red stained the usually pristine clothes, now torn and revealing the damage left behind. In the daze, a single thought cut through the rest.
Ignis wasn’t breathing.
Noctis’ body moved on autopilot, tearing down any magitek soldiers that got in his way. He fell to his knees beside the body Gladio had been protecting. Ignis’ skin felt cold to the touch. He wasn’t breathing. He wasn’t breathing. Noct reached for a curative in his pack, his trembling fingers fumbling to administer it. He waited. And waited. And waited.
Ignis was not breathing.
Sounds faded into muffled white noise. All peripheries were blurred around the body in front him. Everything felt like nothing. The bile burned up Noct’s throat until he was forced to empty it, leaving a sickening aftertaste in his mouth. He could hear his name distantly but he didn’t care.
Ignis was not breathing. And Noctis couldn’t do anything to save him.
Someone grabbed his shoulder, tearing him away from Ignis’ body. Another pair of hands closed around Ignis’ shoulders and waist. No. It should be me holding him. Let him go! Noctis struggled in the grasp of whoever held him. Warm hands press against his tear-stained cheeks. Oh. When did I start crying?
“Noct, listen to me.” The voice sounded distorted, not quite piercing through his haze as a recognisable tone.
“Ignis.” He breathed desperately, watching the body of his advisor be carried further and further away from him.
“I know. Gladio’s got him. We can go too. I just need you to focus for a moment, ok?”
“I-I. Can’t. Breathe.” The words came out between each gasp. His chest felt tight, his heart beating too fast and too loud. The motionless body was burned into his mind. Darkness crept into the edges of his vision, swallowing the light in front of him.
Blood. The wet stickiness clung to his fingers. He scratched at his skin, trying to remove the traces of the truth. It didn’t help.
Droplets splattered onto the deathly pale skin of his advisor, hand outstretched towards his prince. Lifeless eyes stared at him, broken glasses distorting them into hundreds of fractals. Pale blue lips slowly moved, enunciating each word slowly and carefully so Noctis had to commit them to memory.
“Why. Couldn’t. You. Save. Me?” The worst part was that Ignis’ face didn’t even show anger. It was like any emotion he possessed had been drained, pooling along with the blood spilling from the wound.
Noctis’ mouth moved to respond but he couldn’t. Whether it was his own guilt, the sight of Ignis or some other influence, it didn’t matter. The words refused to come. He wanted to shout ‘I tried! I really did!’ It was like Ignis’ outstretched hand was closed around his throat. ‘I’m sorry,’ his head dropped with the invisible weight upon it.
‘I’m sorry.'
'I’m sorry.'
'I’m sorry.’
“Noct, wake up buddy.” The voice startled Noctis awake, shooting up and colliding with the person sitting there. “Ow! No, my fault, should’ve thought of that.” He glanced at Prompto who was rubbing his nose from the impact. Looking around, he didn’t recognise the modest room he found himself in. The nightmare clung to his body in a deep chill, bringing back the reality he had briefly left. A quick glance at his hands showed they were free of blood.
“Prompto. Is Ignis…” He trailed off, unsure if he really wanted the answer. He couldn’t delay it forever, but maybe he could wish for a few more minutes of blissful ignorance...
“He’s in the other room with Gladio. Man, the big guy can power on through anything. I need to train way harder to get to his level.” Prompto laughed. He was cheerful. That…was odd.
“The…other room?”
“Yeah, he’s sleeping. Maybe he’s awake by now. I’ll go check for you.” As Prompto went to stand, Noctis hastily grabbed his arm. “Noct?”
“He’s alive?” Hope spread through Noctis’ body. How? How was that possible? Ignis wasn’t breathing. He was so cold, he wasn’t responding, he had stopped breathing. Before waiting for Prompto’s reply, Noctis clambered out of bed and ran into the other room, half-hearing Prompto’s shout behind him. The wait outside the door stretched into eternity, his feet beginning to hurt as he bounced on his toes. The familiar heavy footsteps of Gladio approached from the other side, grumbling something to himself about the time. As soon as the door was unlocked, Noctis barrelled inside, almost running straight into the glass door to the balcony with his momentum. Sitting in the bed, bandages wrapped around his waist and an oxygen mask over his face, was Ignis, glancing up over cracked glasses from the book he was reading.
“Noct? Are you alright?”
Ignis is breathing. Ignis is alive.