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It was quite the odd feeling, having a body again. His eyesight and hearing were far duller than before, and although all the wires were plugged into the right place and Oz knew the same way he knew he was possessed of hands and feet that he had all the same processing power as before, everything seemed…duller, somehow. And taste—oh, God, taste—he hadn’t known what it was at first, the strange sensation in his mouth, though he’d figured out smell almost immediately.
But there was something else, some strange empty sort of feeling that thrilled along Oz’s skin. It was stronger where he was sitting on the operating table, and strongest where his hands were folded together on his lap, but—it honestly felt more like emptiness than anything else. Emptiness, loneliness, nothingness.
Oz was nothing, after all; he’d known that for ages, knew he only existed because Jack Vessalius had long ago learned that Alice would only cooperate with him if she had an Oz with her—Oz himself or the rabbit she’d once had by the same name, it didn’t seem to matter—and so had given him to the girl, not in the indulgent way her long-dead uncle had given her things when she was a human girl, but rather as a way to shut her up for good.
It had worked—Alice had never wanted to risk Oz for anything, and had quickly won his adoration and undying loyalty—but now that Oz was in a human body again, and patently not a stuffed rabbit, he suddenly felt a creeping surety that she would realize that she had, in fact, been hoodwinked by Jack, and Oz wasn’t her personal Velveteen Rabbit, brought to life by the simple love shared between a child and her favorite toy.
Oz was so caught up in this worry, in fact, that when Alice shoved herself up onto the operating table and pressed herself up beside him, he flinched very slightly from the cold metal of her touch.
Alice, luckily enough, didn’t seem to notice, far too interested in the fact that her Oz was in a human body that she got to examine, pulling at his fingers and poking at his face, his body heat warming her metal hands.
Raven, however, was watching them both with a pensive frown on his face. Oz had no idea what to make of his and Alice’s new guardian: clearly, they’d both scared the shit out of him at their first meeting—enough that he’d refused to give Oz the only piece of information he cared to know: the fate of his best friend, Gilbert. In fact, when Oz had asked, he’d simply stared at Oz’s brain for a few moments, going rapidly green, before snatching up Alice and Oz’s rabbit body and Oz’s brain, bolting out to his supervisor, who had simply informed Oz that Gil was “fine” and then had handed the fates of Oz and Alice over to Raven without even asking either of the childrens’ opinions on the matter. In fact, Oz wasn’t really certain that even Raven’s opinion had been asked on the matter: his boss had assumed he wanted them, and Raven, who had looked incredibly uncomfortable and unhappy for the entirety of their acquaintance, had not protested.
Raven probably didn’t even want them. Or—at least—there was no way he could want something like Oz around.
Oz drew his knees up to his chin; Alice, upon finishing her inspection of all of Oz’s visible body parts, went for Oz’s shirt. Oz sat there and allowed her: if he was Alice’s toy, it was fine for her to play dress-up with him, and besides, he doubted anyone else cared enough about him anymore to have anything to do with him, since despite being assured that Gil was fine, he’d received no information about the rest of his family and had been pawned off onto a complete and utter stranger.
Raven, however, smacked Alice’s hand away from Oz’s shirt as soon as he noticed what she was doing.
“Don’t take people’s clothes off, you stupid rabbit!” he scolded, holding her wrist away from Oz’s torso.
“Don’t tell me what to do, seaweed head!” Alice shot back.
“Technically…I mean, if the records are to be believed, I’m the rabbit here,” Oz pointed out.
“You’re a person,” Raven said shortly, and then, hands moving with an almost unimaginable gentleness, brushed Oz’s hair away from his face, resting the back of his hand against Oz’s forehead. “No fever. Your pulse is fine.” His hand moved, resting lightly on top of Oz’s head, and this time he managed to hold himself still, to keep from flinching at the touch. Though it wasn’t as cold as Alice’s, it elicited the same burning sensation in him, thrilling its way up and down Oz’s body as long as Raven’s hand remained gently on his head. Distantly, he could hear Raven and Alice bickering over appropriate ways to check over your friends who had just gone through grueling medical procedures, but their voices were blurred, softened as though their speakers were far away.
Suddenly, Oz ached for Gilbert. But he didn’t deserve Gil, and the very fact that Raven and his boss had been so reticent with any information regarding him must have meant that Gilbert wanted nothing to do with Oz anymore, so instead of asking again, Oz did another thing that was the probable height of stupidity: he leaned against Raven’s side as the man stood in front of him, lecturing Alice.
Raven went suddenly silent, causing Alice to immediately leap onto the offensive, explaining how she wanted to see how much of Oz’s new body was flesh, and how much was wires and stitching, and how, since Oz was hers she should be allowed to. Oz didn’t weigh in, suddenly and immediately realizing how utterly stupid it was of him to lean on Raven for comfort like this, but before he could do anything, Raven’s hand shifted off of Oz’s head in order to hug him tightly. One of his hands was stroking Oz’s hair, and the other was gripping the back of Oz’s shirt, and though Oz didn’t move to hug his new guardian back, unsure if any motion would break the spell—because, though Raven was a bad-tempered stranger who’d gotten into a fight with Alice, tucked into his arms Oz felt safer than he had in years. He rested his head on Raven’s shoulder, and Raven held him closer and tighter. It felt—safe. Good.
“Why, Ra~ven,” Raven’s boss’s voice cooed. “How domestic!”
“Shut up!” Raven snapped, sounding incredibly embarrassed and upset to boot, but he didn’t let go of Oz, who was rapidly realizing that he was, in fact, aching to be held just like this.
How embarrassing.
Still, though, Oz couldn’t quite muster up the self-control to pull away before Alice decided she wanted in on the hug too and wriggled her way into Raven’s arms, pressing up against Oz and squeezing him tightly.
Though Alice was made of hard metal, having her squeezing him as well made the hug infinitely better, and this time, Oz moved slightly from where he was tucked up against Raven to hug the girl back.
“You’re safe,” Raven murmured against Oz’s hair. “I’ve got you. You’re safe. Nobody will ever hurt you again.”
And though Oz still did not know Raven from any other grouchy, surprisingly kind stranger off the street, his words washed over Oz comfortingly, and he found himself—not believing them, not quite, but comforted. And as he curled in Raven’s arms and held and was held by Alice, Oz felt that maybe, just maybe, everything might have a chance of being alright.