Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

It was a blur. 

Honestly, he didn’t know how he remembered it. 

It was fuzzy, and hard to think about. 

But it was there. 

_____

The announcement boomed over non-existent speakers as he padded to the edge of the platform. He hadn’t done this in years, not since he was little and could balance significantly better. 

The rope twanged as he hovered his paw over it, pausing. He was unsure he wanted to do this anymore, he didn’t think he could do it anymore, but ‘the audience insists’ was what he had been told. He held the balance pole tight. As tight as he could. He didn’t want to let go, nor drop it, it was his lifeline. His only hope really, considering he often walked straight into walls because of the way he stepped.

He walked with a sway, sort of to the left. He always swayed left. It didn’t matter what he was doing, he could be going on a stroll of trying to walk up a staircase but he would never walk straight. It got on a lot of people’s nerves. That’s when he walked in front of them or - occasionally - into them. It was an accident, he promised, he just couldn’t walk straight. 

Nevertheless, he was the one best suited for this. Obviously! It was so clear! The only one who couldn’t actually walk straight should try to walk straight fourteen feet off the ground. 

‘ingenious.’  He thought to himself as he took his first step. 

His breath hitched as the cameras rolled. He could always hear the click of them switch in these situations. Something about him being a rabbit. ‘Fuck know.’ He hummed quietly and took another step. 

He hated how they had set this up. No net, even after he gave up his dignity - in private of course - to beg for one. Nope. Apparently, the better option was water. Water. 

He was not a sea rabbit. He was not a swimmer. He never learned how to swim. Water was not something he dealt with. Until now at least. 

Sometimes he wondered what god he had pissed off to put him around Caine. Don’t get him wrong, he didn’t mind him, but he really did push the limits sometimes. Even with the others! Don’t tell anyone this, but he did feel somewhat bad for Pomni when on her second day she was forced to try knife throwing. It was funny though. 

He took another step, he wasn’t even a quarter of the way across and he felt dizzy with the height. He really hated the idea of plummeting fourteen feet into a pool of overly-chlorinated water and not being able to swim back up. How deep even was it? Two meters? Three? Knowing Caine it was probably somewhere in the vicinity of a million. Over the top. Dramatic. ‘Good for the viewers.’ Hm. 

The rope wobbled and he almost yelled in terror as his pole shook. His ears twitched and they shifted to make the wind rushing by less loud. It was tense enough without knowing his impending doom every time a gust of wind blew by. He gulped and stepped again, feeling the rope shake as he did. He was glad none of them could see his tail sort of twitch or his fur shift with his nerves. A silver lining of sorts. 

At least he told himself that.

He felt anxiety rise in him as he shifted to move again, and then terror as he the rope wobbled again as he lifted his foot. 

He slipped, dropping the pole and falling. He tried to grab the rope, desperate not to fall, and missing it, shutting his eyes as adrenaline shot through him. As the pool got closer time felt slow, and as his head collided with the concrete poolside, it sped up. 

It was fuzzy. It was loud. Static playing in his head on repeat. It made him sick. It made him start to shake. 

He gasped, taking in some water before desperately trying to get it out but only taking in more. He couldn’t breathe, he couldn’t think. He thrashed as the water grew dark, his body still sinking. He tried his best to swim, he tried his best to break the surface but it just grew farther away. It just exhausted him. As he was pulled deeper, his head rung with a high pitched whistle. His vision had white shadows and black spots dancing all over it. 

It felt surreal. 

As he thrashed his arms, trying to grasp the wall, trying to pull himself to safety, he felt his lungs start to burn. His eyes watered and he couldn’t see, the chlorine hurting him. He choked, he screamed, he kicked, he flailed. It only dragged him further under. 

And then he was above ground. 

He was choking up the pool water onto the concrete, and he was sobbing and he was crying. He couldn’t think, his head hurt and the light was blinding. His eyes and lungs burned, he wanted to scream. His head pounded as he sobbed, cursing in further to himself as his body shook violently. He felt entirely violated, scared, like he had been shoved into the pool on purpose. 

His head started to spin, and he kept coughing up the water. He couldn’t breathe with it in his body, he couldn’t think with the screaming in his head, he couldn’t see with the burning in his eyes. He screamed, as loud as he could, and yet it sounded lightyears away with only the static ringing in his ears. The whistle only grew louder as he sobbed, and he writhed in pain as the white shadows overtook his vision and it all faded to black. 

It was silent, he could almost hear the static but every time he tried to listen in it faded away. A horrible feeling of being tossed around enveloped him. He felt like a child’s toy being moved around in a box or being tossed and thrown around the backseat of a car. 

He couldn’t cry, he couldn’t scream like he wanted to, he couldn’t focus on anything but the tossing and turning or the excruciating pain in his head. His body felt like it was burning, like he was scalding hot on the back of his neck and palms. He couldn’t move, the only movement coming from the mental wave pool of thoughts that were throwing him from place to place. 

Chapter Text

Oh god. 

‘Oh god.’ 

His head felt like it was a broken TV, static playing in his ears as he lolled his head. He couldn’t think, his body ached and his stomach hurt. He didn’t move. He felt horribly nauseous. 

He continued to stare at the ceiling, trying to ignore the excruciating pain in his head. It didn’t work. He felt sick. Nauseous, and dizzy. His chest felt compressed, like he couldn’t quite breathe. He coughed, turning onto his side and choking - suffocating - on the air around him. He heaved slightly and slammed a hand over his mouth. He took a sharp breath and got up, stumbling to the door. 

He didn’t take his hand away from his mouth, instead trying to guide himself down the hall as steadily as possible with one. He felt awful. 

He opened to bathroom door, locked it and collapsed inside. He heaved and choked up a wave of what he assumed to be vomit. No. Water. He choked up water. 

He felt horrible, his stomach wouldn’t stop turning and every time he opened his eyes the lights made him want to die from how bad his head hurt. He was in agony. Pain seeping into every part of him, his bones, his skin. Everything. 

He shivered as he puked into the toilet once more and curled into himself when he finished, burning hot and exhausted. He stood up, steadying himself on the wall and walked out after flushing it.

The lights felt blinding. It was horrific. The pain in his head grew to be worse then excruciating, worse then anything he’d ever experienced in the circus. He stumbled, he leant against the wall for support. He could feel eyes on him. He could feel someone coming closer. His vision blurred and his knees buckled dramatically, almost hitting the ground with a thud before being caught. 

They put him down as he shut his eyes, sitting him against the wall as he heard footsteps away from him and the lights clicked off. He felt them lift him back up and cradle him softly in their arms, walking him somewhere. He cracked his eyes open, pain and confusion arising as the light glinted off of Ragathas eye ever so slightly. 

“M’fine Dollface…” he only just managed to speak, muttering through the exhaustion and sickness. She gently sat him in the main hall, in a corner away from the noise. There was a few random colourful pillows set up, and a blanket to which he pulled around himself immediately. He shivered and twitched, his head killing him as small talk continued once again. 

He felt awful. His head felt like it was being crushed, or compressed by a machine. He felt nauseous as the lights came back on, most likely an effect of his headache but still not fun. His body felt like he’d been thrown off of a bridge and hit rocks, or something of the same degree.

He hiccuped and curled in tighter, sort of wishing he would just pass out so he didn’t have to feel the agonising pain that shot through his head every few seconds. 

His discomfort only grew when the ringmaster appeared, talking loudly as per usual, each word now reverberating in his head like a swarm of wasps attacking his skull. The spinning of his head combined with the turning of his stomach made him want to puke, so he stayed curled in the corner, trying to keep the contents of his stomach down while they chatted. 

He said chatted, it was more an explanation. 

He heard a quick explanation of what had happened and then a question. ‘Can you help?’ 

‘Oh god.’ 

Then he felt pain sear through him. 

It was like he’d been hit by a car, or had gotten boiling water poured on him. He screamed, his head pounding in the sides of his skull, the static coming back. Was this what it felt like to abstract? Was he dying? He wanted to vomit, his stomach kept churning and he had to focus on keeping it down. He sobbed uncontrollably, his vision dark and fuzzy. He could barely make out colours from each other. The ringing in his ears grew louder, and he violently shook as he screamed again, another shot of pain tearing through him. He felt breathless, in shock as he gagged. His head was too fuzzy to do anything and he couldn’t think. He started to heave and managed to get into his knees before vomiting, his vision too weak to guide him somewhere better. His body was burning, agonising heat pouring off of his palms and neck as he twitched. He couldn’t do anything but sob, was Caine trying to save him? Was this how healing felt? He let out a loud cry, sobbing harder than before. He couldn’t do it, he didn’t want to be healed it hurt so much. He felt more warm water come up his throat as he spilled his stomach. He felt awful. So so awful. He was nauseous sure but the pain was worse. So so much worse. 

And then it went white.

Chapter Text

‘Oh god- oh- oh god.-’

He rolled onto his side, trying not to be sick. He took several shallow breaths feeling his stomach rise in his throat and settle back down. He was half leant off his bed, half clinging to the sheets with a cartoony green blush across his face. How’d he even ended up here? He was pretty sure he’s passed out in the corner of the main hall- 

“Jax! You’re awake!” She cooed quietly but still emphasising her words. 

“Oh.. hey- hic- r-ags.” He hiccuped halfway through his sentence and swallowed sharply. He felt like he was going to vomit, his whole body tensed and his eyes shut to try prevent anything. He shivered, even with the burning sensation still all over him. 

“Are you.. alright? You look.. are you okay Jax?” She said softly, setting herself on the edge of his bed. He clung to the sheets, scrunching his eyes and gritting his teeth.

‘Not helping.’ 

He took a sharp inhale and spluttered, “Will ya pass me that- hic- bucket rags?-” he asked in desperation, he was trying his best here. She really did seem oblivious as she paced over to the corner and picked it up. She handed it to him and he shoved it onto the ground below him and vomited. 

His vision was swimming, dancing black spots all across it as he gagged. His whole body shook with discomfort, trembling from anxiety and confusion. 

‘Why was he feeling like this? Why him? What did he do to deserve this? Why his worst fear? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why?-’ 

He felt a soft hand on his back, rubbing circles in between his shoulder blades as he retched. He hated it. He turned his head as felt a wave of nausea hit him like a brick, and turned back. 

Ragatha carefully placed her spare hand just below his abdomen to keep him curling in on himself and causing him pain again. She had seen the bruises when he first passed out. Large, patches of black bruises under purple fur from smacking the water at the end of his fall. She had seen his head collide with the concrete and the look of pure, excruciating agony be replaced by terror and adrenaline as he sunk. She had seen the way he screamed in pain from his headache when Caine had tried to heal him, she had seen the way it made him sob uncontrollably and beg for it to stop. 

She carefully pushed back on his chest as he tried to curl in, “alright, you’re alright.” She cooed as softly as she thought she could, just trying to settle the distressed rabbit in front of her. He seemed panicked, afraid even terrified of what was happening. He seemed overwhelmed and he was shaking violently. She had more then a little sympathy for him, despite his less then stellar behaviour usually. He looked like a scared teenager, trying to calm down. 

She noticed his foot tapping the floor, not just tapping but hitting the floor several times in a rhythmic beat and she took it as a talking point to try soothe him. “Oh! Jax? What’s that song you’re tapping?” She asked, rubbing his back as he choked up what looked like a mix of water and bile. He sobbed uncontrollably, he was twitching and shaking like she hadn’t seen before, he looked like he could pass out. “Is it that one I heard you sing? Not sing, what’s the word, whistle! Yeah, you whistled it before, remember?” She took her hand off his back and gave his a small squeeze. He did it back, holding on as tight as he could. It was a little painful, he had a good grip on her, but not awful. 

His breathing was slowing, albeit only slightly, still she took it as progress. She rubbed her thumb over the back of his hand and continued talking to him and he gagged. “You always told Zooble it was the only thing you could remember sometimes, so you have nights where you can’t remember often? Or was it a metaphor?” She questioned, pressing back against his chest again to stop him curling into himself. “The only thing I really remember sometimes is the name of the circus cat, the little cat with a bow tie? I asked Caine to make us a mascot because it felt wrong without one. His name is Spoon, named at dinner obviously.” 

Jax was breathing slower, nodding to her and looking more at her now instead of through her. He looked terrified, but she could see the responses becoming lesser. She moved her arm from his stomach, carefully placing her palm to his and cupped his hand. “It’s okay, you’re here with us, okay? Nothings going to happen.” She coaxed, budging closer to wrap her arms around him. 

He looked scared. Frozen. He was trembling but his eyes wouldn’t move from the floor and his hands wouldn’t move from his lap. His breathing was raggedy and his ears were pinned. His foot occasionally hit the floor a little louder than the rest but that was the only sign of semblance. He looked like he was about to cry. Tears welling in his eyes as she hugged him. He brought a shaking hand up and patted her on the back a few times, eyes now robotically moving upwards to look ahead, as if he was processing but not thinking. 

She pulled away, putting a hand on his shoulder, “You’re okay. It’s all okay.” She reassured him as well as she could before pulling him into a hug again. 

After a minute she lifted him up gently and put him back down on the middle of his bed. He looked shaken, watching her closely as if she was going to hurt him. 

She just sat down on the edge of the bed, looking at him with a kind stare, “how’d your head, anyway?” Jax paused, bringing his hands to his chest as if in a way to protect himself. 

“Better.” He rasped, his voice hoarse