Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Ivan wakes up to the familiar feeling of a needle piercing his skin. He feels himself tense for a moment but relaxes immediately afterwards, hoping that the aliens do not notice. Forcing his heartbeat back to normal, he focuses on the pain on his arm to force back the drowsiness that tempts him back to unconsciousness.

“…depends on…reacts to the meds…administered…”

Ivan is so surprised to hear human voices that he opens his eyes without thinking, turning towards the source. His muscles protest against the sudden movement, not to mention the sharp pain that comes from his arm when he puts more weight onto it without thinking.

Some of the pain must have shown on his face as the woman who had presumably been explaining his condition waves away the others (Ivan can’t see their faces clearly before they dash out) and runs to his side to push him back to his original position. She then busies herself with his drip while, with a low voice, her movements are no longer visible from his peripheral vision. Though Ivan guesses that doesn’t matter when his eyes are already closed. (Since when? He hadn’t even noticed.)

Ivan takes a deep breath. The pain is already decreasing, though he doesn’t know whether it’s because of the so-called “meds” in his system or from relief. Preparing himself (for what he doesn’t know, but his instinct for danger has never been wrong), he opens his eyes again to look around and find clues that tell him where he is and how (Didn’t he already die? This didn’t seem like the “Great Anakt” that the aliens talked about or “heaven” that the books in the books mentioned.)

The first thing that attracts his attention is the row of beds on both sides of the room and the machines that are next to each one. He checks if he also has the machines and yet finds himself too exhausted to move when he finds himself unable to look in that direction. He listens for any mechanical sound and upon hearing a quiet beep that increases in frequency when he holds his breath for a minute, he guesses that it is coming from the machine that’s attached to one of the cables on his arm.

Continuing to look around, he notices how the room is dimly lit, with a few flickering lamps casting uneven light around. The walls, which seemed to have formerly been painted a pale blue, are now faded and flaking, exposing sections of damaged plaster beneath. The air feels thick, with hints of an unpleasant smell that clings to everything, reminiscent of old disinfectants and rust. Calling the room a medical facility felt like an insult to the word when compared to the medical centers provided by the aliens, though Ivan preferred this due to the lack of aliens in his vicinity.

“… Are you even listening?” The voice suddenly comes closer, a face he doesn’t recognize coming in front of him the next second. The woman then seems to cool down upon looking at him more carefully, her frown shifting into a more tired expression. She covers her face with her right hand before she continues, “Obviously not, with how unfocused your eyes are and all the painkillers you’re on.”

Ivan finds it slightly humorous that the woman seems disappointed in herself, despite not having done anything bad but with the face mask on his face, smiling seems too much of a work when it’s not even going to be seen by others. The weight that is pinning him to the bed feels similar to the sensation the drugs before the experiments provided back in Anakt Garden, so Ivan wonders if the drugs used in this place are the same. Mentally archiving it into the list of things to ask after he can talk, Ivan deems that wherever he is, it is not such a dangerous place that he needs to force himself to stay awake.

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The second time Ivan opens his eyes, he comes face-to-face with an incredibly familiar face. Learning nothing from the first time, he once more forces his body to move only to fall back the second he tries to sit up as his arms give away.

He groans in pain, clutching his right arm to his chest with his right and pulling his knees to his stomach. He can hear a voice, Till’s voice, despite the static noise in his head, but he finds himself unable to understand the words. He opens his eyes slightly, catching the gaze of teal eyes that are wide open in panic.

Looking at Till seems to help the static recede as he starts recognizing the words Till is saying.

“…ass, what are you even doing right after waking up? Your arm just got bandaged and here you are-” Till is shouting and while Ivan loves Till and his voice, his headache increases with each time Till gets even a little bit louder.

“I’m fine, the wound didn’t even open up since I didn’t put too much weight on it.”

He stretches out his arm, watching for a few seconds as Till inspects the bandages with the same concentration that he had back when he was drawing Mizi.

As he looks up at the ceiling and thinks back to his memories of accompanying Till and watching him gaze at Mizi and Sua from a distance, he realizes something odd.

The ache in his heart is still there, right beneath his ribs, a dull throb that flares when he thinks about how his gaze was never returned, yet it wasn’t, didn’t feel, like before. The sharp, stabbing pain that used to twist his chest, making it hard to breathe with how powerless he felt, wasn’t there. In its place was a muted, distant ache, like an echo of something that had once been there but was now slowly fading.

He inhales deeply, waiting for the familiar tightening in his chest that only dies whenever Till looks at him. It doesn’t come. Instead, he just feels... tired. The weight of it, all the things that have happened, all is still on him, pressing him down, but it doesn’t feel desperate the way he used to. It was as if he had gone back to his days just after getting caught by the aliens and taken away from the slums when he felt that the world around him was gray and there was nothing of importance.

The realization unsettles him so much he looks back at Till, to bring back the pain (and all the feelings that came with his love for Till). He had spent so long feeling the pain, drowning in it, that the absence of it feels far worse. He stares down at where his hand was held by Till, who is still focusing on his arm wound and tries to think about how he would have reacted in the past. Yet it feels like something is missing. The part of him that would have had him tease Till to see his flustered expression with a gloating smile. There is no sudden urge to hold onto Till, preventing him from getting away, and nor is there any genuine excitement at the sight of Till caring about him, no desperate longing to make this moment last longer. Just a strange, quiet, tired indifference that settles over him like a blanket.
His heartbeat increases with the realization, his thoughts coming to a stop as he digests his current circumstances. The feeling of dullness and unattachment to his surroundings is not unfamiliar and yet going back to this state makes Ivan feel like a heavier weight is put on his shoulders. He doesn’t know what has changed yet, accepts that the ache, the bittersweet pain that had accompanied him ever since he had seen the teal-haired kid try to fight an alien ten times his height, feels faint.

When Till finishes up making sure he hasn’t done any damage to his injured body, he meets the eyes of his beloved (Ivan shuts down the voice that adds “former” before the word “beloved”). He tries to replicate how he would smile in the past to reassure Till that everything is fine. (He finds himself feeling less disappointed than before when Till looks away but he stops himself from thinking more about the reason.) He answers the usual questions that are asked to patients who suffer through serious injuries with a hoarse yet calm voice, adding a teasing remark that he apologizes for immediately after Till looks at him again to throw him a glare. Despite the negative reaction, the sense of normalcy regarding their interactions being restored with Ivan provoking Till obviously helps Till feel better, if only slightly.

It is obvious that Till is trying hard to ignore what happened in their round, for his own or Ivan’s sake, he doesn’t know. What he does know is that pushing Till into discussing such topics would benefit no one, so he doesn’t expose Till’s attempts at pretending nothing happened. Instead, he helps the other by asking questions about their situation that are unrelated to Alien Stage, such as where they are. He learns more than he had thought as Till rants about how they are in the medbay of the rebellion, how Mizi is also alive (Ivan wishes he felt a hint of resignation instead of the dull happiness that his friend is alive) and goes on about the plans of the rebels to rescue whoever they can.

It is only after Till leaves to get the woman from before that Ivan turns away from the door and, giving himself no opportunity to think about the recent developments, decides that he should rest to recover quicker.

Chapter Text

Ivan decides that whatever is up there, if they are even there, has something against him.

Never mind finding himself in an unknown place when he first woke up and coming face to face with Till the second time; Ivan is sure that his heart had never sunk as fast as when he woke up the third time and found himself surrounded by several people in lab coats.

He doesn’t know whether to be thankful that his body still doesn’t seem to be willing to cooperate with him as his first thought had been to get away at any cost. It frustrates him nonetheless that he is forcibly bedridden with no more mobility than before until he notices short pink hair amongst the crowd that quickly disperses after Mizi runs to his side.

The next few hours are then spent with Mizi seemingly wishing to pour out everything she had been keeping inside of her, going on a rant about everything that happened for so long that Ivan feels the urge to look around the room despite knowing it would be very disrespectful (and could potentially lead to another rant that may as well be Ivan’s very last if it keeps going).
By the time Mizi is done, Ivan is surprised at how she is not panting and her voice is not hoarse. Maybe the voice training in Anakt Garden helped more than Ivan had thought, after all.
He is even more surprised that similar to Till, Mizi seemingly was trying not to directly talk about his round with Till. She had started talking about him throwing his round for a second before then immediately backtracking and explaining how hard it was to rescue them while keeping him alive.
While it is normal for Till to avoid even remembering what happened on stage, he can’t say he understands Mizi’s hesitation to talk about it. He isn’t even sure if Mizi saw what happened on stage when they were apparently trying not to get captured.

Feeling sure that Mizi will not start spilling again (had everyone gotten into the habit of ranting to him when he had been sleeping?), he decides to ask straightforwardly, “Was there an order against talking about my last round? As far as I know, there weren't any secrets revealed that would warrant everyone trying to dodge the subject.”

As if feeling suddenly liberated, Mizi relaxes into the chair next to his bed and explains, “Doctor’s orders are that we shouldn’t cause you stress due to your body still being weak.”

”And these orders didn’t include your explanation of how you got rescued, went on deadly missions and also almost got caught when trying to save me and Till?” Ivan asks, slightly smirking when Mizi looks away guiltily. So she was aware that talking off the ears of a patient who could not get away (not that he would but the option would have been nice to have) wasn’t the nicest thing to do on their first meeting in a long time.

On another note, this explained how he hadn’t gotten the lights beaten out of him by Till when he woke up before. Till had always acted more careful and patient when he had noticed that Ivan wasn’t in the best condition. The eyes that always seemed to follow Mizi would occasionally glance towards him in concern and the frequency of Ivan being pushed away when he invaded Till’s personal space would be significantly reduced too. It had been weird for Ivan to be read so accurately. For some reason, Ivan hadn’t felt the urge to use this to his advantage to get closer to Till by making himself pitiful. It felt somewhat comforting to know this part of Till was still the same.

“Mizi, I appreciate the effort but the fact that you all danced around the topic like it was a bomb makes it harder for people not to worry about it.” Ivan explains.

Mizi let out a chuckle before replying humorously, ”Yeah, I guess we shouldn’t have made it so obvious that we were trying to evade the topic.”

“Is there anything else you kept from me in fear that I won’t be able to handle it?”

Mizi hesitates, as if weighing the decision for a few minutes until she decides otherwise, “While I believe you when you say talking about your round isn’t stressful, I’d rather not take it by chance until the doctor’s orders are lifted when it comes to…some other matters.”

Ivan raises an eyebrow, slightly curious what has Mizi hesitating so much but decides to let it go for now, seeing as she is almost begging him not to push with her eyes. What happened during Alien Stage really might have softened him when it comes to his friends, Ivan notices. While he hadn’t been blatantly blunt to anyone besides Till in their childhood (Till would call it bitchy but he digresses), he also hadn’t given much importance to what others wanted or thought. It had been enough that he could get along with others when need be and wasn’t a total outcast (like Till had acted like he was). His curiosity was also something that Ivan hadn’t tried to curb as a kid, which meant he would stare at people while waiting for their answer to his questions, no matter how uncomfortable the other side looked. So it came as a surprise that Ivan felt it was okay to not know for now simply because Mizi didn’t want to say it, despite looking like she would if Ivan pressed.

“Fine, I’ll just focus on getting better until then,” he smiles slightly, feeling Mizi touch his hand for a second as if to silently thank him for backing down. “Then can you tell me how long I have been sleeping?”

”It has been almost 3 months since we rescued you guys, though I heard you woke up multiple times before. The…procedures were more complicated than expected so initially, you were put into a medical coma for the sake of avoiding complications later on.” he feels Mizi’s fingers brush through his hair as she explains.

The sensation is comfortable enough that Ivan suppresses the thought of escaping to avoid his hair becoming more oily, though it doesn’t matter anymore he supposes. It distracts him enough that he doesn’t notice the tension in Mizi’s body and the way she paused in her speech for a second before saying “procedure”.

”And when am I going to be discharged?” Ivan asks, not very hopeful seeing as he cannot even sit up.

“Not my area of expertise, I’m still learning from the doctors for now after I didn’t know what to do when Hyuna got hurt. However, considering that you can stay awake for so long now, I’d wager you’ll be out of here pretty soon.”

His smile grows slightly, already looking forward to being out of this place that had the same smell as the labs in Anakt Garden. He’s not sure if this means that his lack of mobility will also pass soon but he decides to focus on the small victories for now.

“How have you been doing then?”

Her hand in his hair pauses for a second and then continues on as if it never happened, “I’m doing…okay, I think. Or at least, as okay as I can be?” She forces a quiet laugh before continuing in a smaller voice, “I’m trying to go on, for her sake. She wouldn’t want to see me mop around like I did before Round 5, after all.”

Ivan frowns at the melancholic smile on Mizi’s face. Being the only person who knew what Sua was planning to do, he had also been prepared to see its effects on Mizi. He had known how it would likely turn out, having witnessed how she had always been protected by others around her. Even he had protected her on multiple occasions, including how he hadn’t told her what Sua was planning to do and letting her keep the naive innocence she seemed to radiate as a child. It didn’t come as a surprise that Mizi had crumbled at the sight of her…everything being ripped away from her in the middle of their duet, when she hadn’t yet experienced the cruel reality that the aliens seemed to enjoy watching.

Now, seeing the signs of Mizi trying to hold her shattered self together forcefully because of her belief that Sua wouldn’t want her to be sad, Ivan realizes that for as much as Sua allowed Mizi to think selfishly, to do what she wants freely without the burden that the other kids seemed to be sharing, Mizi also considered Sua’s wishes above her own selflessly, even when Sua wasn’t with her anymore.

With the memories of Till getting hurt and falling to his embrace out of exhaustion in his mind, Ivan lifts his uninjured arm to hold the hand that was still in his hair and slightly pulls her towards himself.

Mizi comes surprisingly easily, which makes Ivan suspect that she had been hoping for comfort but he doesn’t say anything. Instead, he puts his wrist on her neck as a support,and brushes through her short hair in slow motions, just as she had been doing to him a few minutes ago.

“No one can see your face now, even I can’t see anything. So you can let go now.” Ivan tries to make his voice as soft as he can, leaning his cheek against the top of her head with his eyes closed.

And if Ivan listens to silent sobs coming from where a head is buried against his shoulder and feels his own body shake at the same time as her shoulders tremble, until it all goes quiet except the even breathing against his neck, he doesn’t mention it in the morning. Instead, he pretends to sleep as a hand touches his in a familiar way one last time before leaving.

Chapter Text

Ivan opens his eyes after he’s sure Mizi has left, lying down and watching the ceiling. While he had been hoping to be left alone the previous few times when a surprise had been waiting for him the moment he woke up, the regret settles deep inside him now. The distraction that Till and Mizi’s talk ( or rant, depending on the word choice) had provided had allowed him to ignore the place he was in and the resemblances.
He tries to ignore the sharp sterile scent of antiseptic clinging to the air, instead focusing on the flawed paint and the flickering lights. Dim light filters through the drawn curtains, casting a soft glow over the grayed out sheets. It is a comfort he hadn’t expected himself to seek, how the poor conditions remind him that he is not where his sense of smell is reminding him of.

He takes another deep (yet careful, lest he coughs and the nurses know he is awake) breath, then another. The scent of blood is even more prominent now. He closes his eyes and focuses on calming down. He can hear his heartbeat ringing in his ears, too quickly, yet his attempts to slow it down consciously is not working anymore. The panic that overcomes him from the failure of his usual method does not help, his hand slightly twitching. It is by pure luck that the cables to the heart beeping machine are no longer attached to his chest as he is sure that he would be swarmed by nurses otherwise.

The flickering stops for a moment, taking Ivan’s heart with it. The bright lights overhead now flash like the fluorescents of the lab and accompanied by the faint hum of machinery surrounding him, they act as an eerie reminder of a time when he wasn’t a patient but a pet - something to be studied and upgraded to have better use.

The rooms weren’t as big as here back then, or it had been but Ivan’s perception had been messed up enough that he had felt like the white walls had seemed to be closing around him everytime. He remembers half-sitting down on the cold metal chair, straps binding his arms and legs despite his obedience. The chill from where his skin had made contact with the cold surface had always seeped into his bones yet there had been no room for him to shiver, the binds going taut the second he moved even a little.

He debates internally whether it would be a good idea for a nurse to actually realize he is awake so that he has some company (and distraction). However, the thought of showing this side of himself, one he’d like to keep buried inside deep enough it will never see the light of day, sends that idea right out the window. Not to mention, he doesn’t think he can stand seeing or getting another cable attached to him currently.

He looks to the machines and remembers the aliens, with white coats that barely covered their entire body and masks obscuring most of their faces, and the distant murmurs as they discussed him like he was nothing more than an unfinished, flawed product. He recalls the sharp prick of needles, the stinging pain in different places as they had inserted and removed it multiple times without a care. His hands itch with the memory of how much he had wanted to rip the tube off as he had watch the blood get drawn to be delivered to the labs, feeling dizzier and drowsier with each second and hating the sensation.

He puts his finger on his wrist unconsciously, trying to find the faint “flaw” that-

-is not there.

His thought process stops. He is not trapped in his memories anymore. If anything, he has never so in the moment as he is right now.

He continues looking ahead as he searches for a slight bump on his skin with his thumb. The movement gets more frantic as time goes by and it is not until Ivan is sure his sense of touch is not decieving him that he looks down at his wrist.

It is reddened, contrasting with his pale hand and the sheets. He doesn’t feel any pain though. Instead, his eyes wander around his wrist, where jagged lines had once been lazered off his skin, leaving a faint scar that could only be felt when you knew where to look for it. He reaches to touch the spot where the scar should be again. His fingers glide over smooth skin, unblemished and whole. He searches around his brand, desperation taking over his rational as he knows exactly where it should be.

Confusion floods him. While not proud of the moment he had gotten the scar, a memory where he had been unable to keep going and had gone so close to what he had once feared, it had become a long-engrained habit to feel it when he had felt close to that moment. It had always served as a stark reminder to how he had hoped, prayed even, to survive that day and how he had to keep going, to continue living no matter what happened because he didn’t want to come close to dying again.

So where was it now?

The realization sinks in like a stone in his stomach. Panic rises in his chest, tightening like a vice as he sits up. He feels his breath hitch and get stuck in his throat, his fist meeting his chest strongly a few times as if to force his lungs to start again. He feels light-headed, the world around him spinning with his wrist the only stable thing he can see (and can’t look away from). Each cough rattles in his chest, the sharp pain causing him to wince yet his gaze never leaves his smooth wrist.

"Where is it?" he murmurs, his voice trembling, barely above a whisper and hoarse beyond recognition. He finally lifts his head and glances around the room, searching for answers, but the silence offers none. Shadows from the machines loom over him, adding to the growing sense of dread and wrongness.

“Mr. Ivan?” A nurse appears at the doorway, concern etching her feaures. She steps inside with cautious steps, having perceived his aggression (it feels wrong to be perceived as aggressive). Her eyes scans over his hunched form with an intensity that makes him feel exposed, similar to how the aliens-

Ivan shuts down the thought this time without letting it fester, clenching his fist until the pain grounds him. He tries to focus on her, wiping away the tears (was he…crying? Hadn’t he gotten rid of that habit long ago?) and squinting his eyes as if it will clear his vision.

He opens his mouth to explain yet feels as if his throat has been scratched up. He tries to speak up, still but the nurse motions for him to stop. He isn’t sure if she has said anything, is saying anything but he tries to focus on her motions. He attempts to follow her as she takes a visible deep breath but chokes, starting to cough once more. A hand hits his back, though it is of little help.

His breathing going back to normal after some time, they try again, which Ivan objectively does better as he doesn’t choke immediately this time. Instead he starts coughing as soon as the nurse motions to show herself exhaling 7 seconds later, which gets him a slightly annoyed face from the nurse when she thinks he isn’t looking.

Giving up entirely, Ivan decides to power through the pain. He opens his mouth as if to say something when he freezes completely. What can he say to explain himself?

‘I don’t have a scar from my childhood so I panicked..?’

Ivan already knows what kind of reaction he’ll get. He cannot say anything that will make the nurse not brush him off and understand why it is so important that it is gone. Scars are usually removed using alien technology anyways, (his previous owner just hadn’t wanted to waste money on the advanced procedure) so it is not so unusual for it to not be there. Ivan just cannot accept it not being there. He feels like he would know if it was medically removed. There would be something remaining at least. Not the smooth, unmarred skin that seemed to be too…perfect. As if nothing had ever happened. Like he was a clean slate.

The nurse for her part waits for him silently until he works himself up to another panic, which she then responds with a swift and precise move to press the small red button on his bedside.

He cannot hear what she is but he guesses something along the lines of “breath” and “calm down”, though she seems to be getting more desperate (and blurry?) as the time goes.
He tries to focus on her but he can’t breath. His chest feels heavy, as though the weight of all the things that had happened is only now pressing down on him when he is already down. He closes his eyes, trying to shut out the pain yet with no sight to distract him, it seems to only make his panting more obvious.
The door bursts open and the last thing Ivan hears is the sound of hurried footsteps.