Work Text:
Jonah was walking down the stairs.
Why was he walking down the stairs? Was he looking for Adam? Where was Adam?
Going down faster, Jonah called out. “Adam? Adam, are you here?” He didn’t hear his friend's voice, didn’t hear anything but the static on the TV that was in the middle of the basement, where Adam wasn’t there. Why was there a TV here? Where was Adam? Why was Jonah here?
He looked back, and the stairs were gone. Were there stairs in the first place? Where was Adam? He had gone down stairs, hadn’t he? “A-Adam..?” There was no answer, even the static had gone silent. Why had there been static?
Jonah was confused, scared. Where was he? What was going on? Where was Adam? Where.. Where was Thatcher? Who was Thatcher? He needed to know where Adam and Thatcher were, he had to. Maybe they were in the dark? He didn’t like the dark. Standing there, not moving, Jonah stared at the shadows. He was cold.
There was something cold on his shoulder. A whisper he couldn’t comprehend in his ear.
Freezing, he looked to his right and his heart turned to ice.
Adam.
Adam had too many eyes, staring at him blankly.
Adam had black dripping from him, falling onto Jonah’s arm and the floor.
Adam was smiling, smiling a smile too big and too sharp.
Adam was hurt, wounds bright against his chest.
Adam was dead, cold with no warmth.
This wasn’t Adam.
Instinctually Jonah tried to run away, to get away, to flee, because this wasn’t Adam, this wasn’t Adam, this WASN'T-
Cold wrapped around his neck, choking him as he was slammed into a wall. It hurt, it hurt and tears were in Jonah’s eyes as he desperately tried to get it off his neck, kicking and scratching as much as he could because-
He couldn’t breathe. He wanted to breath, he needed to breath, please just let him breathe-
Air filled his lungs and Jonah sobbed in relief, arms and legs going limp from overexertion. The claw that was still around his neck tightened slightly, making him squeak because he had just got to breathe again please not again- he could still breathe. He could breathe still, he wasn’t choking from anything other than tears. He could breathe.
The not-Adam stared at him with its eyes unblinking, a grin that made Jonah whimper slowly spreading across the visible part of its face. Breathing picking up, he stared helplessly at the not-Adam as sobs came up his throat. Adam was dead. Adam was dead because Jonah had left him behind. Where was Thatcher? Where, where was Thatcher if Adam was dead? Where was Thatcher? Did Jonah leave him behind too?
The horrible grin widened, and Jonah flinched violently when another clawed hand came and forcefully turned his face to the right, him shaking horribly as a light flickered on.
His eyes widened and a keen came from his throat as he felt himself breaking apart.
No.
Nononononononononono.
No… please no..
Thatcher couldn’t be dead. He couldn’t. He said he’d be fine. He said he’d keep Adam and Jonah safe, that’d he’d keep himself safe. He couldn’t be dead. He wasn’t slumped against the wall. He didn’t have blood leaking from his mangled neck. His eyes weren't dull and unseeing. He wasn't not breathing. He wasn’t… he wasn’t…
A scream was ripped from Jonah’s throat as his head was bashed against the wall again, not-Adam chuckling darkly as it stared at him. Sniffling, he tried to close his eyes, not wanting to see his fate anymore. What he got in return was the claw tightening again, digging into his skin as his airflow was threatened.
“Look at me, Jonah.”
Shuddering at the voice, he complied reluctantly, whimpering as its smile widened. The world around him disappeared as the alternate raised its other claw into the air, its eyes narrowing into slits.
“You left me and Thatcher behind. You let us die. You are a pathetic coward.”
A burning warmth bloomed across his face and he was dropped to the floor, mouth open in a scream he couldn’t vocalize. It hurt, it hurt so much. Red spilled and tears came with it. Jonah didn’t want to die. He didn’t want to die like this. He wanted Adam. He wanted Thatcher. He didn’t want to be alone.
He didn’t want to be cold.
A gasp ripped itself from him, more following afterwards.
He couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t breathe. He was cold. He didn’t want to be cold. Adam was cold. Adam was dead. Thatcher was cold. Thatcher was dead. It was so cold. He was shaking. He was cold. He couldn’t breathe, he couldn't-
Warmth.
There was warmth on Jonah’s shoulders. Warmth urging him to look up.
Adam.
Adam was warm.
Adam had only his one working eye, staring in concern.
Adam was covered in gauze, keeping him from scratching the stitches.
Adam was talking, saying something that couldn’t reach Jonah.
Adam was healing, on bedrest.
Adam was alive, alive and warm, not cold. Never cold.
Sobs tore through the air as Jonah held desperately onto Adam’s arms. Adam was here. Adam was warm. The strings of sounds he heard were Adam talking, but he couldn’t understand. His head hurt. Everything hurt and he wanted it to stop. His eyes landed on his bandaged hands. Thatcher could make it stop. Thatcher had stopped Adam from going cold.
Where was Thatcher? He needed Thatcher. Thatcher couldn’t be cold. Where was Thatcher? A whine came from his throat as he mumbled and started to scratch at his arms, barely registering Adam’s shout of alarm. Warmth was around his wrists, stopping him from continuing. Adam was talking. There were footsteps coming closer. Jonah couldn’t breathe. Where was Thatcher?
He squeezed his eyes shut as a slam came to his ears, talking ensuing around him. He couldn’t breathe. He was shaking. Was he cold? He didn’t want to be cold. He didn’t-
A warm hand was on his head, scratching at his hair. Another hand was guiding one of his hands to something that was moving up and down. Oh, something breathing. He should breathe. Shakily, he breathed in tune with the other, sniffles escaping from him. His other hand was held by someone. Someone warm.
Jonah eventually relaxed, breathing coming easier now. The hand on his head moved to his shoulder, and he could hear Thatcher talking to him. “Hey, can you open your eyes for us kid?” He did so, relaxing fully when he saw both Adam and Thatcher okay. Looking at him funny, but okay. Tears fell from his eyes as he sighed in relief.
He… he was tired..
Slumping forward, he was caught by Thatcher, who held him gently in response. “Whoa kid, you okay?” He nodded, burrowing deeper into the embrace. “..tired.. don’ go..” A hand went back in his hair, playing with it as the chest he was pressed up against hummed. “Ah, it’s okay. You can relax, bud, we aren’t going anywhere.”
Adam tightened his hold on Jonah’s hand. “Yup, we’re here and staying, you’re stuck with us.” The sound of their voices washed over him and he felt himself getting fuzzy, mumbling out something as he snuggled closer.
“‘M… warm..”