Work Text:
Bright white light dominated and engulfed any vision Rett could have possibly perceived. Throughout the drowning process the emptiness of an eternal blaze felt claustrophobic and simultaneously mind bending. Flashes of black and crimson invaded from all directions, if there were to be directions at all here. From the centre of his being an inferno of white hot ice pulsed, sending nausea and trepidation through inflamed wandering nerves. Thumping endlessly, the organic components of Retts’ cranium screamed as though they were locked in the death grip of a vice, an experience that he was familiar with, from even before his cranial and facial implants.
Clumsily, Rett thrust his hands forward, trying desperately to find the edge of the bench, a door handle, a wall, anything to hold onto as waves of soul splintering pain wracked his brain. A sudden deep nausea took hold and Rett found himself stopped in his tracks, knowing full well he had to keep moving but utterly unable to shift his form. His knuckles grazed something on the desk in front of him and a crash and violent shattering emanated from somewhere beyond this approaching oblivion. The world in front of him became a tunnel, vision blurring around the edges and a singular task ahead.
Seconds passed, and Rett held on to the contents of his stomach through sheer will. Able to breathe in short bursts, Rett tentatively placed one boot in front of the other, hands firmly sliding across the desk surface as he skirted around it. Another clatter as a pen and a notepad were sent into whatever existed outside of this current moment. Did anything exist outside of this? Rett couldn't begin to perceive anything beyond this, this destroyer of minds and bodies, this deep burning oblivion.
Another wave of nausea rolled from toes to throat and Rett doubled over, unable to maintain his concentration as the searing pain gained more and more traction as the pressure in his chest and cranium spiked. A cough burst from his throat and with it, an acrid, horrendous stream of bile. Hands on his knees, barely standing, Rett found himself doubled over.
“Fuck.”
It was almost a cry, an outburst at the absurdity and unfairness of it all, his throat burned and tears welled up in the corners of his eyes as he broke. Pressing a button on his wrist, bent over still, with clenched eyelids, “Pyke.” He breathed, trying to hold on long enough to get through. “Pyke, ugh.. gods I can't beli- uuuhhh, Pyke man, I .. I need your help.”
His ragged breath caught in his throat as he tried again, “Pyke, you there? I .. can't. I can't do this alone. Can you, … Pyke?” He waited, desperately clinging to hope that his partner had heard his call. Seconds passed but it felt like aeons, the blackness of space mixing and churning with his stomach contents and the stench of the waiting oblivion.
A darkness filled Retts vision and he found himself crashing to the floor in a haze of vertigo. Palms pressed into his eyelids, he opened his eyes just in time to see a pair of slim silver boots rush into the room. Allowing his eyes to fold shut again, he let out a pained sigh and begged silently for an escape from all of this. A warm hand brushed his brow and rested on his shoulder.
“Alright big fella, let's get you to bed.”