Work Text:
Fit wasn’t really that surprised when he saw that Cucurucho had appeared when he was hanging out with Phil. He’d been expecting it to show up soon, hopefully with a job for him, since it had been a while since his last one. He’d still been trying to help Pac and Mike find Walter Bob, and getting a job somewhere could help him find him.
After hearing about their traumatic time in the prison, and that Walter Bob helped them get out, he was determined to help them get him back. No matter what.
He still felt guilty that he couldn’t save them while he was there. It pained him to see his friends like that. He knew how hard it was to face the past in such an abrupt and forced way.
Whispering through an unopenable door, feeling helpless as he looked at someone he cared about slipping, little by little. He knew the other man was strong, but trauma was as unpredictable as a storm, full of pent up energy waiting to be released.
He’d split off from Phil, letting him know that Cucurucho was probably only there for Fit, not Phil. He went back to doing his own thing by himself, until he heard a robotic “good morning” from behind him.
It tossed him a book, reading “deep clean the prison unit”. Exactly what he was hoping for. His job could lead him to where Walter Bob was. He was tempted to message Pac or Mike, but he held off until he was sure it was the same prison.
Cucurucho left him in the forested area near spawn, apparently trusting Fit to get to the prison on his own somehow. It didn’t make very much sense, considering Cucurucho broke the only way that Fit knew how to get there.
After some double checking, Fit found that the elevator under the graveyard was still not working, so he had to call back Cucurucho to help him get there.
It put him on edge when Cucurucho led him on what felt like a tour of the island, appearing to take its sweet time with where it was taking him. While they were in the boat, Fit noticed that the surrounding area was starting to look familiar, in an unsettling kind of way. The caverns and rocks could have been from anywhere, but it was making him even more tense.
Seeing the freshly planted crops in neatly tilled fields made his stomach drop. Hearing two voices speaking Portuguese to each other made it drop even more.
How did Cucurucho know where they were? Why did it lead him here, if it was taking him to the prison?
The more questions Fit had, the more uneasy and nervous he felt. He didn’t want to rope them into this unnecessarily. But, it was about Walter Bob. And Walter Bob was important to both of them.
Cucurucho wandered off, going to what looked like a mineshaft. Fit took this as his chance to communicate to the two Brazilians what was happening.
“Pac! Mike!” Fit called quietly, drawing the attention of the two men. Pac startled slightly, but laughed after he realised who it was.
“Fit! You scared me!” Pac laughed airily, hand on his chest.
“Listen, Cucurucho wants me to clean the prison today,” Fit leaned in, whispering the words to the other adults. And Richarlyson, who had been standing off to the side, watching the interaction quietly.
“Wait, what?” Pac said in genuine surprise.
“The prison?!” Mike asked at the same time.
Fit nodded at them, still talking quietly to them. “Remember what we talked about?”
Pac was still in disbelief, saying, “Oh my god!” Mike grabbed his hand in comfort, giving it a reassuring squeeze.
“Walter Bob?” Mike seemed excited at the thought of potentially finding his friend. “Wait, how did you find us here?”
“Cucurucho led me here. I don’t know why, but it couldn’t have been on accident,” Fit answered, a little more worry seeping into his voice. That worry was not lost on the Brazilians, who now knew how to pick up on Fit’s facial expressions and tones after the whole Nether fiasco.
Pac’s face softened, about to start explaining what they were doing this time, but Fit cut him off frantically, saying that Cucurucho was coming.
Fit’s demeanour changed entirely once Cucurucho was within range. It was fascinating to both Pac and Mike how quickly Fit could change around certain people.
“Umm, I have to go do my janitor duties, but we will see each other soon, my friends!” His cherriness sounded a little bit too forced to be his normal way of speaking, which was picked up on easily.
He reluctantly walked to where Cucurucho was, away from people that he would consider his closest friends. Hopefully, he’d find something to help in their search for their friend.
==========
Cleaning a borderline abandoned, and haunted, prison was nerve wracking, to put it lightly. To make it worse, or better, depending on how he thought about it, he had three extra people tagging along, two of which were speaking in the cell a little bit down from the one he was cleaning.
He’s already cleaned a good chunk of them, most of them containing dust and ash. Occasionally, however, he would stumble across something much more worrying: blood. To make matters worse, he had found blood in Pac’s old cell. He decided he didn’t want to think about that too hard, pushing the thought deep down until he could examine it later.
He did not want to know what happened here, but at the same time wanted to know everything.
In equally disturbing news, Pac found 2 books, both containing information about the two former prisoners. Pac nervously handed him the book with his information in it, and Fit was horrified by what he saw inside, especially on the second page.
TRACKED
>times_blinked:
18057600
>times_imprisoned: 2
>sheep_killed: 1
>breaths_taken:
13794000
>Arrival_date:
3042023
“Wait, but that’s player data,” Fit said aloud, in disbelief at what he was reading. The information itself wasn’t harmful, except for the number of times imprisoned, but the implications of it were not lost on either of them.
“They have access to everything. It’s so weird. And they even have one for Mike.” Pac was noticeably afraid of what these two books could mean for him and his friend, but he pocketed the books for later examination.
“Walk with me, walk with me.” Fit wanted to keep him close. He may not be able to see the invisible man, but he would feel more comfortable knowing that he would be able to protect Pac if anything bad happened. It eased his heightened paranoia to know that he was close.
They continued in this pattern, Pac following behind Fit while he cleaned the cells out, until Pac went to go find Mike, telling Fit that he’d be back. They’d found more off-putting pieces of information on clipboards, but he continued cleaning, leaving the investigation to the others.
Letting the Brazilians scour Walter Bob’s old cell, Fit cleaned the one next to it, listening through the wall to them speaking in Portuguese. When he was cleaning the hallway dividing the two cell blocks, he saw two floating suits of armour running towards him.
“We have info on Walter Bob! He misses us, and is on another assignment for the Federation. The coordinates are hidden here somewhere,” Pac whispered to him excitedly, unable to contain his giddiness at potentially finding his friend.
“If we find the coordinates, would you go with us?” Pac asked him, making Fit think about what he was trying to accomplish.
“Wouldn’t that be too dangerous?” Fit couldn’t keep the worry out of his voice. He didn’t want to endanger himself, or Ramón, but also didn’t want to endanger his friends by sending them off to the unknown coordinates of a Federation assignment.
He didn’t want to endanger his mission either.
“But you are one of the strongest on the server, you will definitely help us, y’know?” Pac said, trying not to sound too disappointed at Fit’s initial hesitancy to come with him.
“I-I would love to be there, yeah. If you find the coordinates: tell me. Then if I finish my cleaning job here, perhaps I can join you.”
Pac let out a little breath he didn’t seem to realize he’d been holding. “Okay, thank you. Thank you, Fit. Muito obrigado.” Then he ran off to go find Richarlyson and Mike, who were down at the end of the wide hallway.
The current cell that he was cleaning had shutters on them that said “WHERE”, but nothing else. When he was nearly done cleaning it, he heard the shutters behind him, the sound of them flipping to reveal something else. Numbers. Coordinates.
Holy shit, coordinates.
He immediately messaged Pac the coordinates so he wouldn’t forget or say them wrong, then continued cleaning, pretending that the other people here weren’t causing him stress at all.
If something happened to them again, Fit wasn’t sure what he would do with himself. He couldn’t put them through that again. He couldn’t fail them again.
After a minute or two, he could hear Pac calling his name from the floor above his. He stepped out of the cell he was cleaning, and could hear Pac more clearly, the sound travelling through the hallway, instead of the floor.
Mike jumped down, landing on the table in the centre of the hallway. “Hey, Fit, where did you find the coordinates?”
Fit led him to the cell with the shutters that flipped on him, Pac and Richas trailing behind them. The coordinates were gone, only replaced by the word “WHERE” once again.
“Fit, we’ve run out of invisibility. I think the coordinates you found is the place where the assignment is. I think we’re going to check the place out.” Pac was still whispering, now visible to Fit, letting him see his friend’s face again.
“Are you staying here?” Fit wished he could say no, wished he could come with them to the mysterious coordinates, and it physically pained him to have to say he couldn’t go.
“Thank you, Fit, we’re going to find Walter Bob and save him,” Mike promised, resting a hand in his now-visible son’s hair.
“I wish you luck, my friends.”
“Thank you so much, again, Fit,” Pac said as he was disappearing, his cute grin going with him.
“Good luck, my friends,” Fit said to them both, Richas already gone to spawn.
“Thank you, Fit! You’re awesome, bro.”
Despite all the purple particles in the way, he could hear the smile in Mike’s voice.
Then suddenly, the prison was quiet once again. He was only accompanied by his own thoughts, and the voices in his head. It was his only company.
He hoped their mission proved successful.
==========
The trek through the thick jungle trees was difficult, but not impossible. They’d had a vague direction to go in because Richas had spotted the rust-coloured blood trail leading further into the jungle eerily. They all refused to believe that Walter was dead.
Then that blood trail ended. It was cut off in a clearing, a lot of blood pooling in one spot outside of it. Pac and Mike both cleared away some of the dense bushes near the puddle, revealing nothing of importance.
Pac looked up, and found one of the last things he wanted to see: the Code.
He gasped, and shouted frantically, “Mike!” Once he caught his bearings, reigning in some of that panic, he called out to Richas, “Teleport, Richas, Teleport! Get help!” The boy froze, unable to look away from his two pais, but got past the initial stun enough to teleport to safety. Hopefully to Forever as well.
All this left just Pac and Mike in the clearing with the Code. Mike sent “tt” in the global chat, to let other islanders know of the Code.
“Where’s Walter Bob?” Pac asked the entity while he took a swing at its damaged and vague figure.
When it turned, Pac could see what it was wielding more clearly: a sword. A huge sword. The Code turned its attention to him. It swung at him, and he deflected, but it pulled his weapon out of his hand effortlessly.
He tripped over a root, his prosthetic catching on it, twisting in a way that it definitely should not. He was sure he heard a pin snap, or a screw jiggle in a way it shouldn’t. That was not good.
Thankfully, it didn’t fall off. It was just for sure broken.
Despite him being on the ground, and unable to do much other than swing his bare hands at the being, the Code still went after him. He wasn’t much of a threat anymore, he knew that. Mike still was, yet the Code completely ignored him.
Pac scrambled back, getting up and limping as fast as he could away from the monster. He didn’t even realize that there was blood flowing out of him from a sword wound, he was too busy trying to get away.
He felt it knick him in his side again, but didn’t feel the pain that he knew would come once his adrenaline wore down.
“Mike! Mike!” Pac called, now separated from his other half, unable to even see him. He couldn’t take this much longer, this chase. He crawled under a dense bush, buying himself some time to get back to where Mike was. Pac used the terrain and surroundings to his advantage as much as he could.
Mike made it to where he was, and the Code chased him out of the jungle, Pac limping after them slowly, but trying to push himself to go faster.
Then he was in water, and he could faintly hear Forever talking above him to what must have been Richarlyson. Pac hauled himself out of the water, both Forever and Mike helping him. He tried putting weight on his prosthetic, but it twisted painfully on him, and he heard the metal groan in a way that it definitely shouldn’t.
Mike heard the sound of metal under unnecessary stress and sat Pac on the floor, while he took off the prosthetic. He could fix it later, once they were all healed.
As this was happening, Pac was frantically explaining what happened to Forever. One of his hands was holding the wound on his chest, and the other was on Mike’s arm, reassuring him that they both made it out alive.
Mike stood back up, telling Pac to stay on the floor. Pac continued to explain the situation, his panic increasing as he talked more. He was starting to feel nausea set in, but he assumed it was his extensive injuries.
His vision started swimming, Mike, Richas, and Forever going in and out of focus. He was having trouble paying attention to the conversation. What were they talking about?
Then he felt himself go weightless, and he could feel himself sinking into… something. Pac frantically looked around, but his vision was blurry.
“Mike,” Pac tried to say, but the sound was swallowed by the water, the liquid entering his mouth when he opened it to attempt to call for his other half.
His vision was going black around the edges, and all he could frantically say was, “não, não,” but that, too, was swallowed by the salty, cold water. It was so cold.
He looked to where he thought was up, and thought about his friends, his family, and wondered if they would search for him. He closed his eyes, and he felt himself slip away into unconsciousness, hoping his people could find him.
He hoped Mike would stay strong. He hoped he would see him again.
Fit could take care of him. He hoped he would see him again too.
==========
Mike couldn’t believe it. His best friend. Gone. He was snapped out of his trance by Richas, his son hugging his leg tight. He could feel tears soaking into his clothes, the child quietly sobbing.
The second time one of his pais disappeared before his eyes.
Forever came over to the two, bending down to hug Richas. He picked him up in one arm, and hugged Mike close to him. Richarlyson was squished in between them, still crying, but a bit quieter.
“I-I need to go,” Mike stammered, handing Richas completely over to Forever, who seemed to be just as much in shock as him. Forever nodded, understanding that Mike would probably not be able to look after Richas for a while, at least until he was more stable.
“I’ll look after Richas, go do whatever you need to do,” Forever told him, cradling Richas and swaying back and forth with him. All Mike could do was nod in response, and then pulled out his warpstone. But before he could warp, he spotted something on the ground: Pac’s prosthetic.
He picked it up, gently putting the broken mechanical limb in his backpack, making sure he got every piece that had been broken off or taken out. The purple particles stirred back up again when he began teleporting again, this time completing the action, getting whisked away to the Chume Labs.
It felt empty. Hollow.
The sounds of machines running in the lab were a background noise as he went to find the first aid kit that they always kept fully stocked.
Pac should be here so he could patch his wounds. Pac’s injuries were much worse than his.
Mike found the white box, and set it on his bed, doing his best to treat his own injuries. They weren’t too bad, but they still hurt a bit. He could feel a cut on his back, trying to reach it with some antiseptic, but he couldn’t quite reach it.
He gave up, leaving it open, and unclean. It probably wasn’t the best idea, because he could just ask someone to patch him up, but he couldn’t even think straight.
Pac was gone.
The thought echoed in his head endlessly, bouncing all throughout his body. He could feel the empty space in his heart where Pac usually fit in. But now it was empty. A void.
After what could have been one hour or six, he heard a beep on his communicator.
Fit whispers to you: I heard. Where are you?
He was simple, right to the point. It was amazing that the anarchist already knew something was wrong, despite not seeing Mike yet.
You whisper to Fit: chume labs
Fit didn’t answer, but he got the feeling he’d be seeing him very shortly. The man was quick when he was teleporting to other players.
Sure enough, Mike faintly heard the sound of a warpstone being used. He was too tired to get up off the bed.
“Mike?” Fit was talking a little bit quieter than he normally does around Mike, and he appreciated that, because he wouldn’t be able to handle pretending he was okay.
His door creaked open a bit, and he didn’t bother to pick his head up off the covers. Fit would get it, he always did. He just seemed to understand people really well. The bed creaked with the weight of an extra body sitting at the edge.
Fit must have spotted the first aid kit, because then he asked, “are you physically alright? Did you patch yourself up okay?”
“It’s fine,” Mike waved him off, even though he knew that he hadn’t been able to patch up a slash mark on his back.
“There’s an unused antiseptic wipe on the bed, I’m assuming you need help reaching something.” Mike could only sigh in answer, and he nodded defeatedly.
“Would you like me to clean and bandage it?” Fit asked him.
“Yes, please,” Mike said, pulling up his shirt to reveal the uncleaned slash.
Fit got to work, cleaning the wound on his back, and apologising when Mike hissed at the sting. He could feel Fit gently patching up his injury, putting gauze where it was.
“That feel alright?” Mike nodded, and Fit pulled his shirt back down, after making sure Mike had no more injuries.
They sat in silence, and it wasn’t uncomfortable, but it was filled with a feeling of loss. Fit was looking at him, studying his face, picking apart his soul, until he must have found what he was looking for. He stood up, looking around the room briefly, as if someone would see him.
“Alright, come here.” Mike was a little bit confused, but obeyed, sitting up, then swinging his legs over the edge of the bed to stand on the cool floor.
As soon as he was on the ground, he looked up at Fit, and Mike’s face crumpled, reminded of why Fit was here in the first place. Mike flung himself at his friend, hugging him tight.
Fit hesitantly hugged him back, physical touch making his skin buzz where Mike’s arms and hands were.
“It’s okay, bud, I’ve got you. It’s going to be okay,” Fit reassured, and Mike sank into Fit’s arms even more, going almost deadweight. He could feel the tears falling down his face, and then getting absorbed by his friend’s shirt.
They stayed like that for a while, neither wanting to move. Mike nearly fell asleep standing up, and his anarchist friend saw this, gently guiding him back to the bed. When he sat down, he grabbed the backpack from beside him, pulling out what was on the very top: Pac’s broken prosthetic.
Fit’s eyes became sad once again, sitting down next to Mike on the bed, looking at the damage done to the metal leg.
“I’m going to fix it for him,” Mike promised aloud. He got up to put it on his workbench, and came back to sit on the bed, leaning on Fit as he sat there.
“You should get some sleep. We can start looking for clues tomorrow, if you want.” Mike was surprised he would let him start so early, considering the amount of gauze and bruises he had.
Fit must have noticed his face, because he huffed a laugh, and said, “I know you won’t stay in bed to heal your injuries, and I know what he means to you. Keeping you from looking for him would be cruel.”
“Thank you. I don’t know what I’d do if I couldn’t get him back,” Mike admitted, scared of the person he’d become without Pac to keep him in check.
“Me either. He’s- he’s probably one of my closest friends on the island. I can be nice to people, but I wouldn’t say I have the same relationship with them as I do with Pac,” Fit quietly said, as if afraid someone would hear.
Mike knew of Fit’s past, and knew the place he came from was unkind and unforgiving. Fit knew of Pac and Mike’s past as well, and even confronted Foolish after he arrested them. When Mike heard what he did, he was very grateful to have someone like Fit sticking up for them, and even attempting to get them out.
Mike still had nightmares about being in prison. Both times. He still had nightmares about Walter being ripped away from him.
His eyes were beginning to droop, and he was leaning entirely on Fit’s side. Then Fit gently laid him down on his bed, pulling the covers over him.
“Muito obrigado, Fit.”
“You’re welcome, friend. We’ll get him back. We’ll get them both back,” Fit vowed. “Would you like me to stay here, or leave and meet you tomorrow.”
“You can go, we’ll figure it out tomorrow,” Mike told him, his words a little more drawn out in his exhaustion.
Fit nodded, and said goodnight to him, warping out of the Chume Labs to probably go back home to sleep.
Mike’s eyes closed, and he couldn’t open them again, succumbing to the land of dreams, but mostly nightmares.
==========
It was several days later when they found anything. They’d been following clues, most of them leading them around in circles, but they kept going. They were going to find them.
Pac’s prosthetic sat fixed at the top of Mike’s backpack.
The nice thing about their partnership was that Fit could go into places Mike wasn’t allowed to, and Mike could destroy things that would raise suspicion from Cucurucho if Fit did it. They were an efficient team.
The thing that turned the tide was actually one of Fit’s jobs for the Federation. When Fit went to clean the office, like Cucurucho asked him to, the coordinates were different from the last time he’d been there. He opened his map, and found himself in unmarked territory, setting off his nerves already.
As he was cleaning, he discovered new offices, and a bathroom. The bathroom was completely new, and it revealed a whole sewer system beneath the office.
The more he discovered, the more on edge he felt, and the more confused he was. When he thought he was done, he found a room, right above the big container of water in the sewers, with no table or chairs. It was a little bit suspicious.
If this place had changed, the prison could have also been altered in some way. But Fit wanted Mike there with him, in case he found something. His friend was also a prisoner there, so he might know of some places that he doesn’t.
He decided to wait a couple of days, double checking to see if the office actually moved, or if it was a different one entirely. What Fit discovered was that the office did move, and that was what he told Mike in his message.
You whisper to mikethelink: The office has changed locations, we should go check on the prison.
Fit walked along the riverbed, having just put Ramón to bed. He was at his home when he got a message from Mike.
mikethelink whispers to you: I’ll be there in a minute. Can you place a sharestone there?
You whisper to mikethelink: will do
Fit warped to the prison, placing down a red sharestone in the cafeteria for Mike to use. Fit silently prayed that Richarlyson wouldn’t come with him, because it could be dangerous, but he wouldn’t make him leave if he came.
After a few minutes of waiting, Mike came through the sharestone, purple particles flickering off him, only his armour visible. He must have used an invisibility potion.
“Thank you for telling me, Fit. So, you said the office moved?” Mike asked, getting straight to business.
Fit nodded, walking out of the cafeteria and into the prison block. “Yeah, so, the Federation office moved locations. And they have a few new rooms, so I was interested to see if this place was any different.”
Mike hummed in answer, following behind him down the cell block. They went to Walter Bob’s old cell first, and found nothing new other than maybe some more dust.
But when they reached Pac’s cell, they found something new: blood. Fit had already cleaned the blood out of Pac’s cell, but now there was more?
“What? This doesn’t make sense, I already cleaned the blood in his cell when I was on the job,” Fit told Mike, making his eyes widen in realisation.
Fit dropped to a knee, bending to touch the blood. It was half dried. He could still be alive.
“It’s still a bit wet. It can’t have been more than a day.” Mike dropped to his knees next to him, examining the blood on the floor. It was splattered, like something had hit whoever this was.
Both men felt their anger levels rise at the detail of the blood residue pattern. Something like that could only be delivered by blunt force.
“We don’t know for sure if it’s Pac’s, but whoever it does belong to could still be here,” Mike said dejectedly, accepting that this might not be Pac’s blood.
“Let’s see if there’s any more in here,” Fit said, “split up?”
Mike nodded, going towards the end of the cells, while Fit went towards the beginning. He made it to where he found the cage with the item frames, and found nothing, turning around to go back into the main cell block area.
Mike didn’t find anything at the end of the hall, and started to carefully make his way to the start of the hallway. When he got there, he found Fit staring down a barred-off hallway.
“It’s the music theatre, but it’s been barred off since I cleaned here last time,” Fit observed, “and last time, I had broken the bars to get rid of cobwebs and gunpowder, and had lit up the hallway. Where are the torches?”
The torches were removed from the hallway, meaning someone had definitely been here recently. Someone who wanted to get rid of the light.
“We should go down there,” Mike suggested, his suit of armour the only thing visible to Fit.
“I have an excuse to go down there, but you need to hide your armour. I don’t want you getting caught, Mike.” He didn’t put up a fight, and his armour disappeared, making it look like he was alone once again.
He broke the iron bars, and carefully made his way down the hallway, his sword within reach.
When they turned the corner, it was nearly pitch black. Fit pulled out his torches, and began lighting the hallway up, just enough for them to see. They didn’t want to accidentally reveal themselves to someone potentially dangerous down here.
The darkness slowly lit up into a big stage, with speakers on either side. It looked ominous, but it didn’t seem like there was anyone in it other than them.
“Something feels wrong. Something isn’t right,” Fit muttered quietly enough that no one other than Mike could hear him. Mike hummed in agreement, advancing further into the room, finding nothing that would be making their gut instincts immediately assume danger and wrongness.
They investigated the room, finding nothing ominous about it until they got to the wall behind the stage. He could feel cool air behind one part of the wall, and motioned Mike closer to him, to his section of the plain wall. It didn’t look different than the others, but it just felt wrong.
Fit gestured at the wall with a nod, trying to give Mike the hint that something was up. Mike shivered when there was a draft, and he could sense the air of skepticism when his invisible skin felt the coolness.
They made sure there was no one behind them, nothing that could ambush them, before he tapped on the wall with the tip of his sword. His sword went right through it, as if it wasn’t even real. He stuck it in even further, and found no resistance to the blade, nothing pushing against it, and no residue coating his sword.
Fit took a deep breath, and walked through the fake wall, and what he saw was one of the worst things he’s ever seen.
Pac was balled up in the corner of a room off the main one, a security door and thick glass separating them. There was medical devices of all kinds, some looking like they were meant to torture more than heal. He saw needles, gas tanks, and other materials he’d rather the Federation didn’t have.
And the amount of blood. There was so much of it. He heard Mike’s anguished cry from next to him, and they both ran to the glass to see if their friend was still alive.
His chest seemed to be rising and falling, but not very high, or very often. He needed help, and quickly.
“Fit, what do we do? I don’t have a keycard!” Mike panicked, while Fit was quick to reassure him, digging through his backpack for his codebreaker.
“Use this. It might take a few tries, but it will work,” Fit promised, handing over the device to Mike. He attempted to break the security code a few times, but eventually the door opened.
“Pac! Pac, can you hear me?” Mike was grabbing his other half, who was covered in blood and water, and was shaking uncontrollably. Pac didn’t answer.
“Pac, hold this please,” Fit said, handing the barely conscious man a totem, Pac’s grip incredibly weak. Somehow, Pac found the energy to smile up at him, looking relieved to see him. Fit smiled back, trying hard to not look panicked, but probably failing. Then Pac’s eyes rolled back, and he was out of it.
“We need to get him out of here. He needs proper medical attention. It’s good that he’s shivering, because it means he’s alive, but it also means that he’s really cold, which isn’t good with this amount of blood loss. We need to leave,” Fit explained, carefully scooping Pac into his arms. His clothes were soaked in water and blood quite quickly.
“Can I have your jacket? We need to keep him warm. He’s also covered in water and his skin is really pruned,” Fit asked him, and Mike quickly offered up his white lab coat, covering the shaking man with it.
“Warp to Favela, Cellbit and Forever can help,” Mike said, and Fit nodded, hurrying to teleport out. He’d clean the place later.
Fit teleported with Pac in his arms, the man light to an unhealthy extent. He’s probably malnourished. There’s no way the Federation fed him. He had stopped shivering, which was not good. Mike waited until they had gone first, then followed behind them, making sure no one saw them.
When he came out the other side, he saw Fit running as fast as he could without jostling the injury too much. They made their way to the main housing area for the six residents, Mike leading Fit to the biggest building, his invisibility wearing off.
Mike hurried to show him to a room, one that had a table, and plenty of space to work in. While Fit was laying Pac out, and carefully undressing him, removing the soaked blue hoodie, Mike sent messages to both Forever and Cellbit.
You whisper to Cellbit: ajuda. favela
You whisper to ForeverPlayer: ajuda. favela.
He turned around to see Pac mostly undressed, with the exception of his undergarments. There were a lot of cuts, some old from the Code attack, others were newer.
“Can you get some dry towels? We need to dry him off, and try to keep him warm,” Fit told him, and since Fit didn’t know where anything was, Mike ran to the bathroom to grab many towels, coming back to see Fit with two fingers on Pac’s neck. He was feeling his pulse. He had two fingers up to his own neck, feeling for his own pulse to compare.
They laid out the towels, using them to dry Pac off, then putting the dry ones around his foot and hands, Mike gently rubbing them to encourage blood flow again. His friend’s body was scarily cold.
Just then, he heard the front door open hurriedly, two loud footsteps pounding into the house with determination. Two people bearing swords walked in, but one dropped his, while the other quickly put his away, rushing towards the table.
“Fit, Mike, you found him?!” Forever exclaimed loudly, picking his sword up off the floor, putting it away.
“Yes, but he’s not in good shape. He was drenched, freezing, and his injuries aren’t looking too good. He’s had some of them for a few days, and it sounds like he has water in his lungs,” Fit relayed to the two, letting them closer to see the damage for themselves.
Fit was better at first aid, or initial care for someone that was injured, not what to do after that. He was used to working with limited supplies, making the best of what he had on hand.
“Okay, we need to drain the extra fluid, it could give him an infection. It might have already” Cellbit said aloud, listening to Pac’s chest, before pulling away with a concerned look on his face.
“He has pneumonia, this is not good,” Cellbit told the room, not taking his eyes from Pac’s body once.
“Should we give him a breathing tube? It will help him recover from the pneumonia easier, and give his lungs some extra help,” Forever suggested snapping on gloves, giving two to Cellbit.
“Sim, I think it will help. Can you do that while I start to drain the water?” Cellbit asked. Forever nodded, getting right to work, grabbing the tube and ventilator from where it was stored from a dungeon raid they did.
Cellbit then addressed the other two men in the room. “Fit, Mike, can you clean him and his wounds? And bandage them, stitch them if they need to be.”
“Sure, we can do that,” Fit answered for them both, dragging Mike out of his chair. Now he was only wearing a shirt, no lab coat to be found.
They both got on gloves, grabbing gauze, and a needle and thread. Just in case. They both cleaned his wounds, while Forever set up all the machines necessary, and Cellbit made a drain for the water.
“We need to bandage his back, can we sit him up or flip him?” Mike asked, after a couple minutes of silence.
“Okay, be gentle,” Cellbit urged, helping to carefully turn Pac onto his side. Mike and Fit cleaned the blood off his back, and bandaged his wounds. One of them required stitches, which Mike did quickly but efficiently.
“We’re all done with his back, you can turn him back now,” Fit said, rubbing Pac’s hands with dry towels to try to keep them warm.
“He needs to be moved to an actual bed. Can you bring one in here? I don’t want to move him too far, and this room has everything we need,” Cellbit answered instead. Mike and Fit went to go find a suitable bed, eventually finding one and bringing it back to where the three Brazilians were.
“Can you two lift him into the bed?” Cellbit gestured at Fit and Forever. They picked him up carefully, slowly bringing him over to the bed. Cellbit followed closely, carrying the drain that was in Pac’s lungs to get rid of the water.
When Pac was set down, they covered him in blankets, and put the bed at an incline so Pac was sitting up slightly.
“Mike, IV fluids,” Forever said, as he was helping Cellbit put a breathing tube down Pac’s throat. Mike took a deep breath, and inserted the IV, making sure it was working fine before taping it to Pac’s wrist.
It was hard to look at his best friend like this. His other half was in so much pain, and was at a genuine risk for dying and needing to respawn. The totem Fit had given him has been put to the side, set down with his hoodie.
He felt someone taking his gloves off, and saw Fit removing them for him. He balled them up, and threw them in the garbage, taking off his own to throw them out too.
“You can leave if you have to, Mike. I- I understand how hard this must be,” Cellbit offered to him.
Mike shook his head, “no, I want to stay. He’d stay if it was me like this.” Cellbit nodded, accepting his answer, and going back to working on stabilising Pac.
Fit dragged him to find chairs to put in there, taking him out of the room. He sensed it was also to give him a break from seeing his best friend on the edge of death, but didn’t fight back against being pulled from his unconscious other half.
“Where’s Richarlyson?” Fit asked, clearly worried about him showing up while Pac was still unstable.
“He was with Forever, but I think he was handed off to Badboy when I messaged him,” Mike answered flatly, picking up a chair from the living room to bring into what was now Pac’s room.
When they entered the room again, it was to hear Forever saying, “he’s bleeding internally, he needs blood or he’ll lose pressure, on top of the blood loss he already has.” Cellbit looked deep in thought, seeming to not even notice that they came back.
“I might be able to help with that,” Fit spoke up, “if you have the equipment for a blood transfusion.”
Cellbit and Forever both looked at him as if he had gone crazy, then seemed to consider it.
“You’ve done this before?” Forever asked, skeptical of him.
Fit pulled his chair closer to Pac, on the opposite side of where his IV was. He gently grabbed his friend’s hand, rubbing his thumb over the back.
“Yeah. Back in the wasteland. It’s been a bit, and I’ve lost a part of that arm since then, but my blood type hasn’t changed, so it should be safe to do on my other one,” Fit assured, keeping Pac’s hand in his.
“If you’re sure,” Cellbit said, clearly relieved compared to his previous desperate state. That desperation was what worried Fit. It meant that Cellbit would have had to find another option. One that might not have been as quick, or as available to them on this god-forsaken island.
Forever grabbed a needle and sutures, giving them to Cellbit, and also finding a couple other things necessary for the dangerous process.
“You do know you’ll have a permanent scar from this, right?” Cellbit asked, cleaning the area over the artery in his wrist.
“I know,” Fit said with a smile, looking back over at Pac’s face. Cellbit positioned him to be really close to Pac, because the closer they were the less time it would take for the blood to make it to Pac.
Fit completely ignored the pain and discomfort, and only focused on Pac. He was beginning to get light headed, but it wasn’t too bad. He held Pac’s hand in his, playing with his fingers. Mike had come to be next to them both, watching the procedure take place.
Forever was checking in on him, and asked, “So, Fit, you’ve done this before?” Fit nodded, resting his head back.
“It’s hard to tell with direct transfusions how much has been given or taken, but based on Pac’s blood pressure levels, and your pale disposition, I’d say we’ve done enough,” Cellbit explained, “the process of undoing this will probably hurt as much as it did doing it.” Fit braced himself, ready for the pain. It was worth it, if it meant keeping Pac alive.
When he looked down after a few minutes, all he saw was a large slit, and his pale hand. His hand felt so numb.
Forever pulled the needle out of Pac’s elbow area, putting gauze and medical tape over it. Cellbit stitched up his incision, cleaning it of any blood.
“Feel alright?” Cellbit looked up at his face, asking the question with concern.
“Yeah, I’m fine. We should start a blood bank so we don’t have to do this again,” Fit huffed. Cellbit chuckled, but agreed, saying it would be much easier, and safer, to do it from a bag of blood instead of a real person.
“You gave a lot of blood. You should have a nap,” Forever advised, tapping his hand on the table with all of their supplies on it.
“Go to sleep, Fit. I’ll let you know if Pac wakes up, promise,” Mike reassured.
Fit leaned his head against Pac’s shoulder, and fell asleep in a matter of seconds.
Meanwhile, the conscious Brazilians kept watch, monitored Pac’s vitals, and kept an eye on Fit. He didn’t faint, which was impressive, but he had fallen asleep, getting much needed rest.
“We need to tell everyone, they’ll wonder where we are,” Forever said, breaking the long minutes of silence they’d been sitting in.
“Yes, we do, but I’m scared to tell the eggs. Especially Richas. Ramón might freak out too, since his dad just gave a very large amount of blood,” Cellbit argued, sitting on a stool next to the table.
“Well, I am the president. I can call everyone into a meeting and tell them, because telling everyone over chat will cause confusion,” Forever pointed out, pulling out a stool as well.
“Tell them tomorrow. Who wants to take the first watch?”
==========
Several days later, Pac actually woke up. He’d twitch occasionally, or have a body shiver, but he’d never wake up from them.
Many people had come by to see him, including Richas, Étoiles, Baghera, and Phil. Richas needed to be reassured by his other dads that Pac was okay, and that he’d live. Ramón had come by to see his dad, and interrogated him on how he was feeling after finding out that he gave Pac a lot of blood.
Fit was awake and in the room, organising his backpacks again, trying to keep his backpack system somewhat clean. Mike had finally left to go eat something, and hopefully shower. Everyone else was out doing something, like watching their kids. Ramón had been hanging out with Bad and Dapper a lot to get his tasks done while Fit was taking care of Pac. He felt bad not being there for him, but Ramón came by often enough that the boy didn’t seem too hurt by his absence.
Cellbit had come by earlier in the day to take Pac off the ventilator, saying his lungs sounded clear enough to breathe on his own, with an oxygen mask of course. Pac’s condition had improved quite a bit, but he still had a long recovery ahead of him, and still had to take antibiotics for his pneumonia.
Fit was still sorting his belongings when he heard a groan from the bed. He whipped around to look at Pac, and saw that he had his eyes squinted open. Ah, the lights. He hurried to turn the light off, and instead turned on a lamp, keeping the room bright enough that he could still see.
Pac groaned again, sounding more pained than the first. Fit rushed to his side, grabbing his hand, and rubbing his thumb over the back of it.
“Shhhhh, don’t try to talk. You had a tube down your throat for a few days, it’ll be sore,” Fit gently warned. Pac eyes watered, clearly a little overwhelmed by what was happening, and the state he was in.
“It’s okay, I’ll message Mike and Cellbit, and they’ll come help. You’re okay now,” Fit reassured, talking quietly into the dimly lit room. He kept drawing shapes idly on Pac’s hand, and up his arm, ghosting over where Fit gave him his blood. Pac’s eyes followed his own, looking at the bruise that was now uncovered from the medical tape.
His friend gave him a look, asking with his eyes what it was from. Fit laughed a little bit, and saw Pac’s eyes light up at the sound, but explained, “I gave you a bit of blood. See?” Fit showed him the stitches from where the incision was, and Pac’s expression changed to one of panic and concern, looking at Fit like he gave him a whole organ.
“I’m okay, see? It’ll scar, but that’s okay, because you’re safe now, and that’s all that matters.” Fit calmed him down, opening his communicator to message Mike and Cellbit that Pac was awake.
Pac gripped his hand weakly, eyes welling with tears again. Fit gently swiped his thumb over his eyes, clearing away the water. Pac thinly smiled at him through his oxygen mask, and he gave a small smile back, still rubbing his mechanical thumb over Pac’s hand.
“Pac!” Mike and Cellbit came into the room, both practically running to see their conscious friend. Mike grabbed his other hand, being careful of the IV, and gave it a light squeeze.
“How long has he been awake for?” Cellbit asked, coming to sit on Fit’s side.
“A few minutes. He tried talking, but I’m pretty sure he stopped when he found it painful.” Pac nodded in agreement, making Cellbit laugh a little before offering him a cup of water.
Cellbit reached up to Pac’s face, going for the mask providing him oxygen. “I’m going to take off your mask now, let me know if you need it back on.” Pac nodded, taking a deep breath before his mask was removed.
“Here, drink,” Cellbit offered, holding out a cup of water. Pac dislodged his hand from Fit’s, shakily holding onto the cup with a weak grip. Cellbit kept holding it, guiding it to Pac’s mouth, and tipping it carefully to help him drink.
When he was done, Cellbit took the cup back, leaving to go refill it for later. Pac resumed holding Fit’s mechanical hand, tapping it with his fingers. He kept tapping it with his fingers, like he was pointing at it, and Fit finally understood what he was asking.
“Oh, Mike fixed your prosthetic for you!” Pac smiled, bigger without the oxygen mask on him. He looked happy, maybe a little uncomfortable with the wires and IV, but he looked happy, which was all Fit could really hope for.
Cellbit came back, a full cup of water set on the table. He sat down at the foot of the bed, in another chair that had been pulled in.
“Should I go get Richas?” Cellbit asked, and Pac nodded excitedly, clearly anticipating getting to see his son again. Cellbit left the room, closing the door slowly to keep it quiet, and then it was just Fit, Mike, and Pac left in the room.
Pac tapped on Fit’s metal hand, drawing his attention to it, and then his injured friend began drawing letters into his hand, instead of trying to talk. What a smart guy.
What happened?
Fit looked over at Mike, making eye contact with him, before he carefully said, “I don’t- I don’t know if we should talk about that right now. If you don’t remember what happened, then I think we should save it for when you’re better.” Mike nodded in agreement, but Pac frowned at them both.
I want to know :(
Fit smiled at the frowny face drawn on his hand with delicate fingers. “If we tell you, you won’t freak out?” Pac shook his head, looking at Fit with total trust in his eyes.
“Should we put the mask back on him, in case something bad happens?” Mike suggested, gently putting his ear to Pac’s chest to listen to his chest.
“We probably should. He shouldn’t be talking anyways, and the extra oxygen won’t hurt,” Fit reasoned, grabbing the mask to loop the straps back over his ears. “There. That feel okay?” Pac nodded, closing his eyes for a moment, then opening them to stare at Fit intently.
“Okay, so, you got teleported right in front of Mike, Richas, and Forever, and disappeared. We still don’t know where you were teleported to, but we’re hoping you remembered. You can’t tell us now, but you can tell us what you remember later,” Fit started, before continuing on.
“Mike and I went to the prison, to see if anything was different since last time we went, and we- we found blood in your cell,” Fit told him, making Pac’s eyebrows furrow in confusion.
Mike chimed in, saying, “yeah, we went to the prison, and Fit found a fake wall behind the stage in the music room. It had a really cold wind coming out of it, and that’s where we found you.”
The more they talked, the more confused and frustrated Pac seemed to get. He groaned, not happy about how much time he seemed to have missed.
“It’s okay, we’ll keep you safe now,” Fit promised, squeezing his hand with gentleness. Pac put his fingers in between Fit’s, intertwining their hands together. Opening their hands, Pac wrote with his thumb, refusing to let go of either person.
Tired.
Fit leaned his head on his shoulder. “That’s okay, you’ve been through a lot. You deserve a lot of sleep.”
“Sleep, Pac,” Mike assured, gently pushing Pac’s head back to the bed, forcing him to fully lay down and rest his body.
“One of us will be here next time you wake up. Sleep well,” Fit told him, Pac nodding as he was drifting off.
Fit messaged Cellbit to tell him that Pac fell back asleep, and that he could bring Richas back if he wanted to, but that Richas would still be looking at his sleeping parent.
Mike got up to switch the IV bags, and Fit went back to organising his backpacks. They weren’t that messy, and he could do them later, but he needed something to do, something to keep him busy.
Pac was getting better, and that’s all he could ask for.
==========
When Pac woke up next, it was from a nightmare. He woke with a startled jump, a shout stopped in his sore throat. He could talk now, but it was hoarse, and not very loud.
He couldn’t see who was grabbing his hand, but he felt the cool metal of Fit’s mechanical hand on his flesh one, and immediately calmed down.
“Nightmare?” Pac nodded, letting out a large sigh into his mask. He still had to wear the oxygen mask, much to his unenjoyment.
“It’s okay, you’re safe here. Nothing bad has happened, and you’re getting better now,” Fit reminded him, drawing circles on his hand with a metal finger.
Pac let go of his hand, and turned it over to write in his palm, since he wouldn’t understand through the mask that muffled his every word.
Obrigado.
He could hear the smile in Fit’s voice when he answered, “It’s no problem, I enjoy being here and being able to take care of you. I- I feel guilty that you got taken in the first place.” Fit’s sudden shift in the tone of conversation was surprising, and caught Pac off guard a little.
Pac tried to talk, but the sound was trapped by the mask. He groaned in frustration, using his other hand to tap his mask. “Oh, I can take that off for you.” Fit slipped his fingers behind his ears, and Pac could feel them skim by his ears and barely touch his messy hair. His face went pink at the closeness, and then Fit was putting the mask to the side, turning off the oxygen.
Fit grabbed a glass of water from the table, coming back and offering it to Pac. Now, Pac didn’t need that much help drinking it, but someone always kept their hand on his in case he couldn’t hold it. When Pac was finished, Fit took it fully from his hand, and set it on the table to be refilled later.
“You shouldn’t feel guilty, Fit,” an only mildly hoarse voice said, as Fit was coming back to his bedside.
“I failed you,” Fit insisted, “I couldn’t help you when you got arrested, and then this happened.” Pac shook his head, clearly not agreeing with him. He grabbed his hand, squeezing it as hard as he could, which was getting stronger and stronger every day.
“You didn’t fail me, Fit. You saved me. You gave me your blood. You found me, and you’ve been by my side since then. You didn’t fail,” Pac told him in a gentle scolding manner. Sometimes, he didn’t understand why he felt guilty. Pac didn’t feel let down by Fit. If anything, he felt the opposite.
Fit looked like he was about to argue, but he backed down, instead gently leaning his head on Pac’s shoulder. He felt heat crawl up his face, surely turning it pink. He looked down at Fit’s and saw some dusting of pink as well. Good to know.
“Thank you. For everything. Thank you for keeping me company,” Pac said out of the blue, feeling the need to say thank you to the man who was devoting all of his time to him.
“Don’t worry about it. You’re great company, even when you’re asleep,” Fit chuckled, Pac laughing along with him.
Then Fit did something Pac thought would only happen several months from now: he bent down and kissed his hand. He kissed his hand, his knuckles, and his fingertips. When Fit looked up at Pac’s face, it was fully pink, making Fit huff a laugh, and his face became a light shade of red.
All Pac could do was smile at him, one of the biggest smiles he’d had since getting teleported. Fit’s smile back lit up Pac’s world, and from the look in Fit’s eyes, it was safe to assume Pac’s did the same.
Pac yawned, big enough that he heard his jaw crack, and he winced a little at the sound. Fit cooed a little at him, and said, “awww, is someone tired?” Pac didn’t care that he was using the same tone he used with Ramón, but he did want sleep. And maybe some time to figure out what he and Fit were now.
Fit had grabbed the oxygen mask again, turning on the gas and bringing it up to his face. He looped the straps around Pac’s ears, but this time his hands lingered, even after Pac felt the mask sitting on his face. He was caressing his jaw gently, hands light against his face. Fit kissed his forehead, then the crown of his head, and sat back down next to Pac, bringing his hands with him.
Pac smiled at him, wishing he could kiss him back, but was prevented from doing so with the mask on, and his limited range of motion. He grabbed Fit’s hand, bringing it up to his face, and pressing the backside of it against his mask, a poor mimicry of a kiss. But Fit got the message, smiling wide, and blushing a little, but he pushed Pac’s head gently to the bed, telling him to relax and go to sleep.
The bedridden man fell asleep again with Fit’s hand in his, both of them refusing to let go.
And Fit stayed in that position until Pac woke up again, a couple hours later. Cellbit had stopped by earlier with Richas, the young boy carefully climbing in to lay by his father’s foot. Richas had caught sight of Pac’s hand intertwined with Fit’s and grinned mischievously, but didn’t comment on it. They stayed for a while, Cellbit leaving to fill the cup with water again.
Richas kept snuggled up to Pac’s leg, careful not to hug it too tight, in case it was still sore. When Cellbit came back, Richas curled up at the end of the bed, and Fit was still holding Pac’s hand, watching Richas with careful eyes.
Eventually, Richas had to leave, as he needed to go to bed. A few hours after they left, Pac woke up again, lurching up and almost ripping the IV out of his arm. Fit was quick to halt that, because he didn’t want Pac to hurt himself.
He could hear the sounds of fast breathing from behind the mask, and could see the panic in Pac’s eyes. The sound of the heart monitor beeping rapidly was a clear indicator that something was wrong. He grabbed both hands with his own, keeping them from ripping anything off, and also providing the man comfort.
“Shhh, it’s okay, it was just a nightmare. I’m here, nothing’s going to happen,” Fit promised, and Pac stopped trying to fight his grip, but his breathing was still too quick.
“Breathe with me, okay? In…,” Fit said, putting one of Pac’s hands on his chest, Fit leaning closer so he didn’t have to reach far. He saw Pac’s chest expand, “and now breathe out,” then deflate, and they continued like that for a couple of minutes, until Pac was fully calmed down.
Tears slipped out of Pac’s eyes, and Fit wiped at them with his thumb, letting go of one of Pac’s hands. The tears kept coming, but Fit kept wiping them away, making sure the water didn’t collect around his mask.
When he stopped crying, Pac tapped his mask with their joint hands, clearly wanting it off. “I can do that for you, buddy, hold on.” Fit dropped his hands again, pulling the mask off and turning off the oxygen tank giving Pac air.
“Thank you,” Pac whispered. Fit shook his head, giving a light kiss to the side of Pac’s face.
“Don’t worry about it. Everyone gets nightmares. It’s no problem for me,” Fit comforted. Pac rubbed at his eyes with balled up hands, dragging them down his face. Fit could see the eyebags, now almost matching with Mike’s.
“Do you want to go back to sleep, or stay up for a bit?” Fit asked, gently resting his hand on Pac’s leg. He was beginning to feel more comfortable with physical touch, feeling comfortable with Pac, and enjoying that it wasn’t in front of anyone else. It made him feel less self-conscious about how nervous he was physically touching people.
“Stay up for a bit,” Pac answered, relieved that he wasn’t being forced back into his hellish dreams.
“Do you need anything?” Fit inquired instead, pushing the hair out of Pac’s eyes so he could see.
“Just you.” It was things like that sentence that made Fit go crazy. He’d never had someone care about him in that way before. Sure, he had old war buddies, and friendships that he’s made, but he’s never really had a partner before.
Other than Spreen, but that hardly counts, right? Spreen had never said any of the things Pac has said, so they’re hardly comparable.
“Then I will stay right here. Whatever you need,” Fit promised, kissing where the bruise used to be on the inside of Pac’s elbow from the blood transfusion. His wound wouldn't scar, since it was just a bruise, but Fit would have a permanent reminder of what he did for Pac.
“I still can’t believe you did that for me,” Pac said in disbelief, following Fit’s eyes down to his forearm, stitches now taken out.
“I’d do anything for you, including giving you blood,” Fit told him honestly, squeezing his hand a little tighter.
Pac smiled at him, a little more shy than the other ones Fit had seen. “I- I appreciate that. If you were in my position, I’d do the same for you.”
Fit gave a small smile of his own, more genuine than his polite ones. “Thank you. I’m glad we met, Pac. I really care about you, and you- you mean a lot to me.”
“I’m glad I met you too. Thank you for staying awake with me,” Pac added on, kissing the back of Fit’s hand.
“It’s fine, I know how upsetting nightmares can be, and how hard it is to go back to sleep after one,” Fit reassured him, before continuing on, “are you ready to go back to sleep?”
Pac nodded, and Fit grabbed his oxygen mask, putting it on his face. He tenderly caressed Pac’s head, pressing a small kiss to his forehead, some black hair getting in his way. He double checked, making sure the mask was comfortable, and making sure that oxygen was being pumped from the tank with no leaks.
Fit gently pushed Pac back against the bed, bringing the blankets up to keep him warm. He always seemed to be a little on the colder side now, and Fit hoped that would be fixed. He also got up to change the IV bag, the current one empty. Hopefully it was one of the last ones, and Pac would be able to eat food again. They’d kept him off it because of the internal bleeding in his stomach, and the injuries inflicted there, but they were healing very well.
“Sweet dreams, buddy, I’ve got you,” Fit promised, holding his hand once again. It was the most prolonged physical contact he had in a long time. He couldn’t imagine how a hug would feel like with Pac, let alone an actual kiss. He was pretty sure he would actually die.
The next few days, Cellbit, Forever, and Bad did extensive checks on him, checking his bandages, and finding his injuries healed enough to take off the dressings. They checked his blood pressure, listened to his chest for mucus and water, hearing nothing but clear breathing.
Finally, after over a week of laying in bed and doing nothing, Pac was cleared to walk. He still had an IV in, much to his dismay, but he was happy to walk again. He got to try his repaired prosthetic, finding it much more sturdy than the last time he wore it. Mike supported him under his shoulder, his other arm dragging the IV stand along with them. He did a few laps around the room before he decided he was ready to leave.
Mike guided him to the kitchen, where they found Cellbit cooking lunch. Mike helped Pac sit down at the table, Richas looking up from his communicator. He practically squealed, hugging his pai tight, a couple of tears slipping out. Richas had seen him awake several times already, but it must have meant something more to see him walking.
“Oh, Pac! I’m making something light for lunch. I was going to take it up to you, but I guess you wanted to walk here,” Cellbit greeted, placing a plate with only a little bit of food, not wanting to overdo it. Pac ate slowly, as advised by both Mike and Cellbit, carefully swallowing his food.
Pac found himself thinking while he was eating his first real meal in longer than a week. He was thinking about Fit, missing his presence. He had gone to take care of Ramón, feeling bad for not seeing him properly in a while. Pac told him to go, reassuring him that he’d be okay while he was gone.
Slowly finishing his meal, Pac conversed with the current residents at the Favela, enjoying the different environment. He was going a little stir-crazy in that makeshift hospital room. After a while, he got tired again, something that he was very familiar with recently. He’d get tired quicker and for longer, irritating him a little bit.
Mike helped him back to his room, letting him walk around for a bit longer, even by himself with no support. Eventually, he got tired enough to actually sleep, and Mike guided him back to bed, where he fell asleep very quickly.
When he woke up, he saw Fit and Ramón in the room, the child playing on the floor with a black cat. He had never seen the cat before, but he assumed that it was probably Ramón’s cat.
“What’s the cat’s name?” Pac asked, no longer kept from talking by the oxygen mask. He didn’t have pneumonia, or bacteria and mucus, so he didn’t need it anymore.
Ramón looked up at him, finger spelling K-A-T-O. Fit elaborated, adding on, “He named it Kato because it sounds like gato, Portuguese for cat.” Pac smiled at the kid, watching him play with the adorable cat.
“How are you feeling?” Fit asked, eyes moving down the entire length of his body.
Pac smiled even wider, answering, “really good! Last time I woke up I actually walked!”
Fit clearly shared his excitement. “That’s amazing! Do you know when you’ll be able to leave?”
Pac wondered that too. He was getting better, and everyone that had been taking care of him knows that. “I’m not sure, but I’m able to walk, and I’m allowed to eat real food now.”
“Well, that’s good. Cellbit also told me that you don’t have to have an IV anymore, and that he’ll come take it out today,” Fit told him. Pac cheered, so happy to finally get the annoying needle out of his wrist.
Fit and Ramón kept him company for the rest of the day, Fit messaging Mike to come hang out with Pac in his place, so he could put Ramón to bed. He placed a kiss to his forehead, Pac smiling at the open display in front of Fit’s son. Either he told Ramón, or his son just got completely caught off guard by the anarchist’s actions. But it seemed Ramón knew, because he smiled at Pac and waved as the father-son duo left, leaving him alone for a few minutes before Mike got there.
When Mike got there, he gave him the tightest hug he could manage. Mike wiggled out, taking out the IV, putting gauze and medical tape over the small amount of blood coming out. Finished with the IV, Pac promptly dragged Mike into his bed. They both somehow fit, and that was how they both fell asleep, happy and grateful to be back together after such a scary period of time away from each other, and after that too.
Pac had many new things to navigate, including his new relationship. Not only that, but the possibility of Ramón becoming his son, as well as Fit becoming a father to Richarlyson. But he would worry about that later, after he figured out what him and Fit would consider their relationship as.
He was excited to go back to the labs, he was excited to see his friends again, and, most of all, he was happy where he was. He had been through a lot, he’d been through so much in the past few weeks, but he was determined to be happy. And he knew plenty of people who could help him in that journey.