Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

His voice is quiet when he finally speaks.

“...What are you doing here?”

And you can’t help but think of everyone you’ve met up to this point who’s heard about the Time Pieces. Of how quickly they turned against you when you told them you wouldn’t give them up.

...

Most of them had seemed nice enough at first.

A new friend.

A photoshoot on the moon.

A soul-sucking contract.

...maybe that last one wasn’t so nice.

But the others had turned on you in the blink of an eye, and knowing who this is, he probably will too.

So you roughly shake your head in response.

“...”

An uneasy smile finds its way onto his face. “Ok, that- that’s fine, um-“ the smile falls. He stares into the distance for a moment before snapping back to you, voice frantic. “No, no, that’s not fine. You- you shouldn’t be here, you— Why are you here?”

And you want to open your mouth and explain, say anything at all, but-

You can’t say.

Anything you might have thought of saying dries up in your throat before it reaches your tongue and you can’t-

You shake your head again.

Maybe he sees something in your expression, you aren’t sure, but he drops it after that.

...

Funny, he still looks concerned. It’s a weird look on him. It’s all pretty funny, really. This is the same guy who made you clean out a well and battle a smelly toilet to the death. The same person who made you go into that creepy old manor in the first place. This whole mess is pretty much his fault.

...maybe it’s a little bit your fault too, though. He didn’t send your time piece flying into the manor. He didn’t make you drop it.

That was on you.

And who knows where that time piece is, now. It could be shattered across this whole forest for all you know. Tiny glass shards buried deep in the snow, with no way of finding them ever again. 

You really, really hope that isn’t the case.

...

You’ve really screwed up, haven’t you?

Chapter Text

It goes like this.

You remember the small moment you took after entering the attic to collapse against the door. For one, terrifying minute, your legs were too weak to stand.

You remember the tears in your eyes, the tightness in your throat rendering you barely able to breathe, and yet you desperately had to fight the urge to break down and cry.

You remember the clamminess, the violent, uncontrollable tremors that ran through your hands, ran throughout your entire body. The overwhelming feeling of weakness in your limbs and chest. Numb and shaking and cold and you weren’t sure if it was from the biting, frozen air of the house or your own, all-consuming fear.

(...)

(You almost couldn’t stand back up.)

The time piece was already slick, shaky in your grasp, but you thought you had a handle on it.

You thought that was the end.

You thought you could go home.

You thought you were safe.

You just...

You heard the door behind you creak open.

______

She shouldn’t be here.

She really, really, really shouldn’t be here.

This- this kid couldn’t be more than 11.

How long had she been wandering out here?

Where were her parents? Her family?

She didn’t look particularly hungry. She was clean and well kept. Whatever happened, it had to have been recent, right?

She hasn’t spoken at all yet.

(Was it that bad?)

He doesn’t want to push her, but he needs to know, he needs to get her out of this place, she can’t be here.

He takes a deep breath.

“Look,” he starts slowly.

The girl perks up at his voice.

“I... I’m not gonna ask you anything you don’t want to answer. I just...”

He trails off.

“You- you need to get out of this place. You shouldn’t be here.” No one should be here, why is she— focus. “I... I haven’t been to the edge of the forest in a while, but I could-“

But the girl stands up and frantically shakes her head.

“What?”

She shakes her head again.

“Kid—“

She crosses her arms into a giant X and slashes the air. And he doesn’t wanna ask, he really doesn’t, but-

Something is telling him he needs to know.

For a moment she’s still fuming with that strange determination to stay here in this horrible place, but when she sees no further protest, she breaths out a sigh of relief. Plops down on the ground and sags toward the earth a little.

He’s almost afraid to ask.

“...Kid--“ She immediately glares daggers at him when he speaks again. (If he looks closer, he can see the firelight lining the stress under her eyes.)

(...She looks so tired.)

He puts up his hands in mock surrender. “I’m not- I’m not trying to convince you, I just-” takes in another breath, “...what’s so important about this forest?”

She looks away.

“Kid,” He tries again. “I can’t help you if I don’t know anything. You can’t... you can’t just stay here. You know that, right?”

She brings her knees to her chest and doesn’t respond.

“Kid, please,” He pleads. “I... I need to know. I need to know why staying here is so important to you.”

...

She shakes her head.

She opens her mouth as if to say something, but all it does is morph into a shaky exhale.

She tries again, but her lips close the instant they part to speak.

She glares only for a moment at the ground below her before her eyes squeeze shut.

“...Kiddo?”

She flinches, slightly. He can hear soft, laboured breathing.

He frantically stands up and kneels down next to her, “K-Kid, hey--” But her eyes shoot open with a gasp at the sudden proximity of his voice and she scrambles back, breath harshening, but her wide, fearful eyes don’t leave his face.

She looks terrified of him.

He has to scoot back to reassure her he isn’t going to do anything, isn’t going to get closer.  

She mirrors the movement, desperately pushing herself back even farther, as far as she can go, but something inside her seems to cross over a threshold and just snap as she screws her eyes shut and collapses in on herself.

Curling in on herself. Pulling the hood over her head in a desperate, sloppy motion before her hands tightly fist the oversized cloak around her body as far as she can stretch it and then all he can hear is harsh, hitched, hyperventilative breathing that can’t calm down no matter how hard it tries.

He isn’t sure when he starts hearing the faint, cracking sobs.

...

He doesn’t move.

Doesn’t want to startle her.

Doesn’t want to make it worse.

(He doesn’t know what to do. About the state she’s in, about the fact that she’s here in the first place, he-)

(He can’t do anything.)

(He can’t do anything.)

...

All he can do is watch.

______

Slowly, you calm down.

Your crying eases to shaky breathes.

When had you started crying?

You don’t know.

It’s hard to think.

Shivering, you drop your head into your knees.

Your body tilts and slumps toward the earth against your will, fighting against gravity itself just to stay upright.

Your hands loosen, white-knuckle grip around your cloak losing out to the numb and cold and exhaustion. You can barely feel them anymore, save for a numb sort of tingling as you loose them from the fabric until they’re barely hanging on and you’re just so tired.

...

You hear the crunching of snow to your left.

Footsteps.

He makes his way toward you again, sitting down, and this time you don’t have the energy to tense up or really feel anything at all. All you can do is shiver uncontrollably.

“Can I bring you back to the campfire?” He asks quietly. “...you’ll feel better if you’re warm.”

...

You really shouldn’t trust him.

The Snatcher you know would probably toss you into the fire and laugh, and no matter how nice this one appears, you can’t separate him from that image.

The moment you let your guard down and think maybe he’s not so bad, he’ll do something.

They always do something.

You shouldn’t trust him.

...

But you’re tired.

You’re so, so tired.

…So you nod.

You hear a sound of confirmation before you feel a hand on your back. It lingers, for a moment, before you feel another hand come under your knees and you’re carefully hauled up and held against his chest.

...It’s warm.

Not like fire. Not something that hurts to get too close to, it’s just... warm.

You... you hadn’t realized how much you’d missed something like that.

It’s not like the last time you’d experienced warmth was even that long ago, you just...

...Everything has been so cold...

You can’t help leaning your body into that warmth, just a little. Just for a moment-

And then abruptly, that warmth is gone again. Replaced by the icy, frostbitten forest floor as he sets you down next to the fire. And he stands up, starts walking back over to his side, and you-

Against your better judgement, you grab his ankle.

...he pauses.

...

You can’t see his face, don’t have the energy to look up.

But after a moment, he sits down next to you on crossed legs.

You aren’t sure how to respond. You don’t think you could if you wanted to.

So instead you just curl up a little tighter, tug the cloak around your body, and close your eyes.

And for that small moment before sleep claims you, you almost, very nearly, feel safe.