Archive of Our Own

It started in a dungeon.

Dank and dirty, humid from the bodies pressed close together, the stench almost overwhelming when it'd first hit Missa's nose. He was shoved into a cell with another man, laying so still on the makeshift straw bed that Missa was half-convinced he was already dead. He was still breathing though, face flushed with fever- he jerked awake for a moment when Missa got too close, the hand that had closed over his wrist practically burning into Missa's skin.

He recognized this man, Missa realized- part of the company that had settled and then left a week or two before the actual ambush, sourcing what supplies they could get their hands on. Missa had even talked to him, though his name was eluding Missa now- he'd been polite, laughed easily, and was always followed around by some giant piglin with a dry sense of humor. He had attended Missa's church eve, periodically, offering a quick prayer to Lady when he had the time.

He'd been so bright then, Missa couldn't help the way his eyes lingered.

The man's eyes were a hazy blue now, unfocused but still intense at the same time, and Missa could feel his heart ache in his chest.

"No te precupes." He murmured, and then added, "I won't hurt you, I promise."

He relaxed a little at that, enough that Missa was able to gently free his wrist- he winced at the distant shouts that started up, only to end just as abruptly, taking stock of his cell, though there wasn't much to it. Straw for a bed, a plate of untouched slop still by the door, a bucket in the farthest corner from the bed. Missa considered himself lucky that he'd managed to eat before he'd got thrown in here- the mess of food on the plate didn't look appetizing in the slightest.

He shoved himself up against the wall, staring at the flickering light the torches cast across the walls, and took in a breath. He should pray, maybe. Try to- to get some feel for what he'd been forced to leave behind. He pressed a hand over his mouth instead, his eyes falling closed and surrounding him in darkness.

He hoped he wouldn't be in there for long.

The slop wasn't actually so bad, even if it was cold every single time.

He learned that the man he was sharing a cell with was named 'Philza' or 'just fucking call me Phil, mate,' and he'd been caught resisting the New Age Federation and thrown down here to rot. His fever was actually from a wound he'd gotten just before, a long cut over his thigh that burned red with infection, and needed attention immediately. Unfortunately just about everything in the cell seemed to be covered in some kind of grime, and Missa doubted the guy providing food- the only person he'd seen since, mind- would happily start handing out medicine to his prisoners, let alone a needle and suture thread.

He'd been doing his best with a scrap of his own shirt, scrubbed as clean as he could get it in what little water they were provided, but the inflammation was the only thing to have slightly improved, the flesh around the wound still a dangerous shade of dark red.

"You look better than I feel." Missa tried, but he winced at the weak wheeze it evoked from Phil. "Lo siento. Maybe I lay off the bromas for a bit, eh? So you don't die from breathing too hard."

"I'll be alright." Phil had tried, as if he wasn't breathless just from saying that much. He'd tried to refuse when Missa had took it upon himself to help Phil eat, but now he just seemed resigned to it, laying limply against the floor of small spoonfuls were carefully tilted into his mouth. "I just- just gotta hang on until Techno gets here, then I'll be alright."

Techno- a friend of Phil's at Missa guess, maybe the name of the piglin who was always trailing behind him. He hadn't gotten a ton of details on the inner workings of their resistance movement, but Missa could remember the two of them, like they were attached at the hip. Missa thought back to his home, to Spreen and Roier... he couldn't think of Spreen for long, his heart heavy in his chest, but he hoped Roier was okay, hoped he'd either made it out and safe or was at the very least still alive somewhere. The Federation's invasion had been a surprise to everyone, but that had been the point- Missa had done his best to fight back, but he'd been ill prepared for it. There were only so many guys he could fight with just a candelabra, and frankly it was a miracle he'd survived as long as he had.

There'd been plenty of others who hadn't been as lucky as Missa had.

He laid a hand on Phil's forehead, his skin still scorching into Missa's palm, and bit his lip.

"Just until Techno gets here?" Missa asked again, and Phil nodded, already slowly falling back asleep. He seemed frail, huddled under ratty burlap cloth and shivering with cold, his blonde hair only making him seem more pallid. Missa glanced at the door to the cell, the empty wall across from them still cast in orange light. He nodded to himself, his chest aching as he rested a hand on Phil's forehead again, lightly brushing hair out of his face. "Qué estoy haciendo...? Oye, I'll do my best to help you, Philza. Prometo."

"You'd think they'd shake up the recipe every now and again." Phil complained, swirling his spoon through his bowl in clear disdain.

He'd been getting better, bit by bit, though still too sick to be anywhere close to upright, his wound certainly not healed but- well, it was a combination of one of Missa’s tricks and him probably actually consistently eating food, rather than being too weak and forced to go without. He was glad though, that Phil was doing better, the life and joviality in him infectious enough that even Missa felt heartened by it, even as sweat beaded lightly along his brow.

Missa laughed, and Phil offered him a smile in return, though his eyes were still squinted slightly in disgust. "What? They've gotta be tired of making the same shit all the time if we're this tired of eating it."

"Yes, maybe they are just dying for a chance to throw corn in there some day." Missa agreed seriously, scrapping at the small amount pooling in the bottom of his bowl and shoving it into his mouth. "Or maybe some potatoes-"

"Ugh, don't even get me fucking started on potatoes." Phil complained dramatically, setting his now-empty bowl aside. "That's all Techno would ever eat, day in and day out, just fucking potatoes. So of course that meant that literally everyone else also had to eat potatoes, and it wasn't like I could just fucking throw that shit on the ground and say 'enough' when I'm his fucking second in command!"

Missa laughed again, startled by the ferocity in his voice, though it was clear by his expression he was exaggerating at least a little bit, eyes alight with his own laughter. There were no windows, but the faint light of the torches lining the walls outside their cell illuminated the scruffy beard Phil'd grown since he'd been tossed in there- he'd complained about that too, and how cramped his wings were and everything else, but it was a million times better than the silence that had plague them before, easily the best thing Missa had heard after weeks alone with a sick person nearing death with every passing second, his cheeks flushed with more than just fever now.

It was good. Better than Missa ever thought it could be, after being tossed down there and promptly forgotten.

Better to focus on something he could fix rather than. Well.

"It was hell, Missa-mate, absolutely hell." Phil finished with a huffy crossing of his arms for emphasis, his wings curled tightly around his shoulders as he leaned back against the stone wall. "But I'm going to start thinking this place is even worse if they don't change up their meals every once in a while. This is fucking inhumane at best! Torture even!"

"I don't think it's so bad..." Missa hedged, ducking with another laugh as Phil tossed his crumpled up blanket at him. "Espera, espera! I just meant- well, you've never had my brother Spreen's cooking before. It was raw and burnt at the same time."

"Damn. That's some fucking talent right there."

"Si, pero, well, it wasn't like our apa was much better, and then neither was his husband when he got remarried, so it was all a disaster. The kitchen they had in their home was just a waste of space, since they always came to our church's group meals for breakfast all that, and then dinner at the main hall- at least they were close with their neighbors."

That might've helped them, when their town was raided, though Missa didn't know for sure. He should have been offering prayers for them, for Roier and Quackity and Leo too, but it was hard to focus properly in a cell like theirs. Hard to... to even think about that, about the connection he'd had before. Before he'd actually lost anything. At least what he was doing for Phil was more internal than anything, something literally resting in his fingertips, and one that didn't require much thought.

Phil'd said he'd wanted to see his 'Techno' again, had done nothing but talk about him since he'd been upright, and Missa-

There might've been people who would miss him, but. Phil had such bone-deep surety that Techno was coming, and Missa couldn't have that, especially since he'd been one of the first to be taken. Having seen Spreen- Well, he could spare some of himself if it meant keeping Phil alive, if it meant he wouldn't be alone, if it meant that this man could live.

He already had threads of prior worship running through him, ties to the lady that made siphoning even easier, and- he wasn't sure if Phil knew what he was doing, didn't know where the overlap in their specific practices and teachings were, but he hadn't said anything to imply he knew. Missa wasn't sure if he liked it better, but he was content for Phil to live in ignorance, or even feigned ignorance, for as long as could be allowed.

Prisons were limited in their capacity, and prisoners had their uses. The Federation had touted the idea of 'perfecting' everything, and Missa sincerely doubted that they would just be left to rot down here forever, even if it ended up being along time.

"I swear, the first fucking thing I'm going to do when I get out of here is raid the nearest patisserie fucking blind." Phil was saying as Missa zoned back in. "Or literally any place with decent food. It's been fucking ages since I've had sugar- god, and there was this one town that had like a blueberry and goat cheese pie, fuck, I think I'll be dreaming about that for the rest of my life..."

Missa thought back to his own last meal, a lukewarm tamales still in it's cornhusk, meant to tide him over through their sermon. The meat inside had still been a little warm when he'd bitten into it, and he remembered pulling away from Leo's grasping hands, having already scarfed hers down. Apa had already started to whisper a soft reprimand, trying to get her focus back on the priest, and Spreen had shared a look with Missa over his glasses, and then-

He swallowed roughly, shoving his last spoonful in his mouth and trying very hard to remember the taste of masa and spices and pork.

It sat stone-cold in his mouth, and he felt sick.

"What was your home like?" Missa asked the dark, the torches having been snuffed out ages ago.

He could still feel Philza shifting a bit beside of them, both of them pressed close to make the most of the straw bed and single blanket they'd been given. The straw smelled like mold and the blanket smelled like dust, but Phil was a warm line pressed against Missa's back and even though his eyes were watering with something a little to left of loss, he at the very least wasn't alone.

"Didn't have much of one... Well, we had a base of operations that could be called a home." Phil said, his voice a low murmur close enough to Missa's ear that it sent a shiver down his spine. He huffed a laugh as he felt Phil inch more blanket over him, some inkling of warmth filtering through the haze. "But it was just me and Techno wandering around forever, especially after we picked up this newest gig, so it's more like- fuck, it sounds cheesy as hell, but we became. Each other's homes?"

Missa's slight smile widened at Phil's obvious disgust at his own sappiness, trying to imagine his expression.

"Thank fuck Techno wasn't here for that, he'd never let me live it down."

"Oh, I'll just have to remember to let him known whenever he gets here." Missa said slyly, ducking his head as Phil lightly slapped at his back in reprimand. "Oye, don't hit me! What did I say?"

"You better fucking not." Phil huffed playfully, resettling where he laid. There was a few moments of silence, long enough that Missa was almost convinced that Phil had drifted off, only for him to speak up again. "What about you? What was your home like?"

Oh. Maybe he should've expected that. Fuck, now his eyes were all wet again.

"Um." He started, doing his best to reign himself in- don't think about it, DON'T think about it- and priding himself on how even his voice sounded. "It was like any village, you know? Muy Normal y- well, it was small enough we could know everyone there, and it had a market and a church and-"

"A church?" Phil repeated, and Missa closed his eyes. Of course Phil would focus on that. "You seem like... an Ocean Dude kind of guy? Maybe? Were you near a beach at all?"

"Ocean Dude-" Missa laughed, and then coughed- even a God as benevolent as that one could be offended. "Ah, no, no. No beach, we were mostly inland. A church to- to La Muerte. The Lady."

"Ohhhh, okay... honestly, would not have pegged you for that, but I guess it kind of fits your kind of... prison-grunge-meets-emo look."

"Should I take that as a compliment?" Missa chuckled, only a little awkwardly.

"I mean, I definitely wouldn't call it an insult. You're like... mostly chill to be around? That's why I figured Ocean Dude, or maybe Rose before the Lady, but. You've definitely got the emo look down. I probably should've known just from that."

He was laughing at the end of it, quietly, and Missa wished more than anything in that moment that he could see Philza's face, just for a moment. He took in a slow breath, the tangled knot sitting heavy in his chest easing a bit with every little consolidation- Phil was there, warm, and laughing. They were in a cell, but together. Phil was only getting better, even as exhaustion pulled at Missa deep in his bones, but that was well worth it, he knew.

"I'm- I'm glad I met you Philza." He murmured, his fist wrapping loosely around a handful of straw, just to hold onto something, and he stilled at the pressure of fingers pressing against his back, each point burning into his awareness even as Phil gave a noisy yawn.

"I'm glad I met you too mate. Wish it was under better circumstances, but you know."

"Yeah." Missa breathed, staring into the dark. It only took a few minutes after for Phil to finally fall asleep, and about an hour for Missa, wrung-out and tear-damp.

"Don't you fucking touch him!" Philza yelled, even as a spear point was pressed to the column of his throat, his wings spread as wide as they could go behind him.

Missa could feel his strength waning, watched as Phil's legs started shaking under his own weight- he wasn't anywhere close to healed, that wasn't how Missa's trick worked, and it was clearly taking a toll on both of them. Missa could already feel a cold sweat prickle across his skin, and knew it wouldn't be long before Phil brought them both to collapse.

"Philza, it's okay-" He tried, even though they both knew it wasn't that they'd been working their way down the line of cells for a week now, that some of them never came back. But Phil needed to see Techno again, and Missa couldn't give if he was taken away and Phil wouldn't last long if he didn't calm down. "Philza! Stop"

"Mate." Phil gritted out, eyes desperate as the point of the spear dug into his skin, just enough that a slow line of blood trickled down to pool along his collar bones, and with both of their luck that would get infected too. "They can't-"

"Philza." Missa said again, insisted really, forcing Phil to really look at him. "Stop now. Calm down. I'll be back."

They both knew it wasn't a promise he could keep, but- well, he was hoping visible cooperation might help him get back, and there must've been something in Missa's eyes then, some conviction that he didn't know he had in him- but Phil relaxed. Just enough for the guard to remove his spear from Phil's neck with an irritated huff, keeping it trained on him as the other escorted Missa out of the cell. It shut behind them with an ear-ringing clang, and then Philza was there, pressed up as close to the bars as he could get.

Missa tried for a smile, but he was quickly shoved forward down the hall, to whatever interrogation room had been set up for him.

His memory was a little spotty after that- he remembered being shoved down and tied to a chair, remembered being asked questions, though not what they were. He remember the first hit landing squarely against his ribs, remembered trying for a joke only to receive another hit and...

Well, his brain had decided to zone out at some point in the interim.

He was still in a haze after they'd decided they were finished with him, too out of it to even realized they'd apparently decided to let him live until he was half way back to his cell. His breath came out in a little wheeze as they stopped abruptly outside his cell, his legs threatening to give out from under him. He could vaguely feel slowly drying blood across his upper lip and down over his chin- he was half-convinced either his nose had been broken or one of his ribs.

At the very least the guy toting him around didn't just shove him in unceremoniously, allowing Missa to get a grip on the bars before abandoning him entirely. He dropped to his knees ungracefully as the door clattered shut behind him, a shaky hand coming up to wipe at his nose as he glanced around the cell- only to freeze at the sight of Philza, sprawled out and face down on the floor.

"Ay mierda." He exclaimed, fear sinking deep into his guts like a knife. He should've known- he'd worried, with the strain, that Phil would only get worse while they were separated, but to see him so limp- The shudder that ran through him at the sight rocked him forwards, Phil's body too still, splayed out in mid-motion, just like- "Fuck, fuck-"

He slowly turned Phil over onto his back, checking him over as quickly as possible- still breathing, albeit shallowly, same with his heart, his skin clammy and cold- and then rested his hand over Phil's forehead. It wasn't an instantaneous cure, especially not when Missa could practically feel Phil's wound drawing on his strength, and now Missa's. He could feel his arms threaten to give out the longer he went on, the more he gave but...

It'd been worth it before, seeing Phil up and about. Missa already knew he'd give anything to see that again, to not- to not have this lifeless body before him.

He could help, he could do something.

And there wasn't anything else that mattered.

He was forced to pull away when darkness started to encroach his vision, leaving him fuzzier and light-headed. He laid himself down as gently as he could, just taking a moment to focus on his own breathing, the cold of the stone beneath him- his hand had found Philza's without even having realized, but he took solace in the fact that it was warmer than his, now. A tangible effect he could feel with his own hands, rather than just hoping and praying.

He didn't think he'd really prayed since he'd been in here, anyways. Not properly, and not in the way he'd been able to before... before. He used to feel something then, but- he pushed the thought away, a sick feeling settled deep in the pit of his stomach, his face and neck prickling with a heated, distant panic.

He couldn't think about it. He couldn't.

He hadn't been able to help it, in the silence, in the solitude with nothing but a body to keep him company, but Phil was- was life and light and noise, and everything Missa needed. Needed. He couldn't think about what had come before, knew that it wouldn't do him any good as he was. Forsaken and lost, both figuratively and literally, a lost cause before it'd even had a chance to really start so-

He could help, even if it was the last thing he ever did.

It was worth it.

It took maybe another hour before Phil started to stir, the flush of his cheeks having receded somewhat, the push and pull between them finding something approaching an equilibrium. Enough that Missa could at least get him self semi-upright again, shoved into the corner closest to Phil as feeling slowly returned to his numb fingertips.

He watched Phil stir, his eyes slowly blinking open, shuttered in a confused haze before they sharpened with a sudden clarity, his hand flying to his chest. Missa's stomach promptly dropped down to his toes, watching as Phil frantically scanned the room before his eyes finally landed on Missa, alight with fury. There was a cold resignation that settled through Missa then, even in the face of Phil's understanding.

He'd already made up his mind almost the same second he'd seen Philza in this cell, after all.

"Mate, what have you been doing?" Phil asked, and unlike his usual humor and levity, his tone was all stone-and-steel seriousness, his brow furrowed low over his eyes as he glared. Missa gulped, but met Phil's eyes without flinching. That only seemed to piss Phil off even more, feather bristling in an offended array behind him, eyes glinting dangerously. "Missa. What the fuck did you do to me?"

"You said you wanted to see Techno." Missa said, simply, and it clearly wasn't what Phil had been expecting, considering just how quickly he deflated, his expression falling into something closer to lost, saddened. "And- i'm not great with medicine, but I know enough- you probably weren't going to make it that long, with the infection like that. So I... just gave you a little more to work with."

"But why?" Phil insisted, the furrow of his brow more worried now as he reached out to grasp Missa's arm with a strength that made it all seem worth it. Worth it a thousand times over, that Phil was able to move with such ease, when he'd seemed so lifeless before. "Mate, that- that shit isn't supposed to be done for very long, and definitely not as long- fuck me, tell me you haven't been doing it the entire fucking time!"

He sounded frantic almost, but Missa could only shrug, his gaze turned to watch the flickering shadows dance across the far wall. They were moving strangely today. He forced himself to look away, his dull headache spiking sharply as he attempted to focus.

"You wanted to see Techno." He repeated, because he didn't know what else to say, wasn't sure what Philza was looking for. His brain felt stuffed full of cotton or maybe feathers, black and silky ones like Philza's wings maybe. He blinked, brows furrowed as a thought occurred to him. "I- you were really sick, you know? And I... I could help you. So I did."

"Okay, but- you didn't have to go this fucking far!" Phil protested, as if it wasn't because of Missa he was even upright at all. "Mate, that- you know that shit isn't reversible, right? I can't give back when I get better or some shit-"

"That's okay." Missa said, his eyes burning with exhaustion. He could still feel blood flaking from his upper lip and chin as he spoke, and uselessly tried to wipe at his nose again. "You needed it more than me."

"You're-" Phil stopped himself, the hand already reaching towards Missa curling into a frustrated fist as he sighed heavily, and then continued moving to cup Missa's face, studying his swollen cheek and bloody front. "Fuck, they did a number on you, huh? No wonder you seem so out of it right now."

"Do I... seem?" Missa repeated muzzily- Phil's hand was warm. He liked that, he knew. It was getting a little hard to think. "You're- mad. Sorry."

Phil's other hand came up to rest against Missa's other cheek, and that was nice too- Philza's eyes had always been such a pretty blue, his hair butter-yellow and messy, but it suited him. He was light and life and- he was sad now, he shouldn't be sad, he should be happy. Techno was still coming for him right? Missa would- he would-

"A damn mess, is what you are." Phil said, one thumb pad resting on the corner of Missa's lips. "Fuck me. I didn't realized- I thought that she-" He sighed again, and Missa blinked. "I should've been paying more attention, I just didn't think- what the fuck ever, mate. I'll be damned if I let you pull that shit again."

There was some part of him that wanted to protest that, but he couldn't form the words for it, so he let himself be held, just for a moment.

He'd missed being warm.

"I don't think it looks too bad, right?" Phil asked, though his tone made it clear he was trying to joke.

Missa couldn't bring himself to say anything, because it did look bad- the dark red had darkened further into something approaching purple, the scab over the wound weeping and- it was bad, all bad, the worse Missa had ever personally seen. He didn't know how to help, didn't know if there was anything he could do besides more of what he'd already been doing and it'd been a fight to get Phil to let him close enough to get a good look at his wound, let alone do anything more.

"Um. Maybe you've seen worse?" Missa hedged with his own attempt at humor, and they both grimaced at each other. "Pero... pues, I don't know how to fix this."

"There isn't much we can do." Phil said grimly, though he made sure to shoot Missa a quick warning glare before his eyes darted over to the door. The light of torch flame flickered across the wall on the other side. "If we could get our hands on a torch we might be able to cut and burn the rest of it, close it off before it can get back again... Fuck, I wish Techno'd come soon, I just fucking know he'd be loaded up with gapples and potions and shit to throw at me."

Missa mentally added that to his internal goal post- make sure Phil lived long enough for Techno to throw a potion at him, got it. Phil had to sleep sometime.

"He's still coming, right?" Missa asked, before he could help himself.

"Yeah." Phil returned immediately, without a second thought, like the alternative wasn't even an alternative in his mind, like Techno coming to get him was something as constant as gravity. There was a part of Missa that burned with jealousy over having that much surety in anything, but there was another part of him that settled into the idea. It was Philza after all, and though he'd joke, he didn't lie. Not to Missa. "It was a bit of mess when I got nabbed though, so it might just be taking a while to pinpoint me or something. These fuckers got tons of places like this."

Missa nodded numbly, having guessed even though he hadn't been sure- the Federation had more power than a 'budding government system' ought to, taking over entire villages like they were. Phil had already said Techno had figured they were some kind of figurehead being made up by those previously in power, trying to promote 'new' ideals to gather support from factions set in their ways before. It was certainly working if that was the case, just based on what Phil had said.

Working as a resistance movement was hard work, but he prided their little organization for hitting hard and moving fast, using his knowledge of terrain and Techno's strategy to guide them. It was just this last time, their calculations purposefully thrown off by their enemy hiding more than half of their troops in their tents for nearly half a week, just to make them over-confident, and that was when Phil'd 'gotten got', as he described it.

"I'm sure Etoiles is loving it too, even if he misses me." Phil'd joked. "Pulling my weight and his? He's probably having a field day pushing himself to his limits. He'll be so disappointed when I get out and Techno makes me rest and shit- it'll be like having a kicked puppy following me around everywhere."

"Un perrito." Missa murmured, smiling slightly when Phil laughed at that- he had so many people to look forward to, it seemed. An entire resistance movement looking for him, waiting for him to return- whatever jealousy he might've mustered up before was replaced by relief now. Phil had so much to look forward too, when Techno came for him. So many people. "Sounds kind of cute."

"Oh, he is. For a grown-ass man who could put me on my ass without even trying" Phil agreed easily, chuckling. "Even I have a tough time saying no when he brings out those puppy-dog eyes of his, and Techno? I think they've sparred like twice as much as they've actually spoken to each other, which is saying so fucking much because they're both huge nerds about fighting styles and shit-"

He rambled on, only wincing slightly as Missa made quick work or rewrapping his wound, the heat leeching off it more than enough to further strengthen Missa's resolve.

He would make sure Phil got out. Nothing else mattered.

Missa was on his feet before the door even finished creaking open- Phil, they'd taken Philza hours ago, and he hadn't heard a sound since, not even the echoing distant cries of other people being interrogated.

His mind had been racing for those hours, winding in on itself with a hunger that consumed every thought he had, leaving nothing but an amorphous, static fear to rip through him. It was well past midnight, surely, but Missa had felt far too wired to sleep, stuck in the cycle of loneliness and guilt and grief, but he was almost grateful for that now. He lurched forward to catch Phil before he collapsed in a heap, his clothes crusted with dark blood, his skin clammy and paler than even the first time Missa had seen him. He was distantly aware of the door shutting behind him, but he couldn't really hear it over the sound of his own pounding heart.

His fingers were a bloody mess, his face battered and bruised, and he was very clearly on the verge of unconsciousness, his eyes blinking slowly up at Missa. Fever flushed his face again, but the rest of him was cold, his skin pale with more than just sickness but- Gods, there was blood everywhere, soaked and crusting into his feathers and clothes. A wound seeped slowly from his hairline, trailing down his forehead and cheek, disappearing into his already-ruined collar.

He'd worried- well, it'd been one thing when they'd taken Missa, a single person who resisted arrest from some 'new and improved' government body, he knew he wasn't going to be treated anywhere close to fairly, but Phil was resistance, was part of a group bent on stopping the Federation at all costs- he was always in far more danger, always liable to be pushed to the brink for as long as his body could hold out, and it was clear it wouldn't for much longer-

It was his body in Missa's hands but he could feel Phil through his skin, a flickering thing, a flame liable to go out the second Phil lost hold on his consciousness.

"Aye, por dios." He creaked, a sob on the tip of his tongue, tears already welling up but. He could, he could fix this, he'd- he'd only been giving Phil little bits of himself at a time, but now. He sniffed, brow furrowing with new determination as Phil looked blankly up at him, barely seeing anything at all. "No te precupes, Philza. I'll help you."

Phil might've tried to say something then, might've tried to stop him even, but... Missa hadn't been able to bring himself to pray since he'd been thrown in the cell, couldn't focus on his family enough to see whether they were even still there or not, couldn't- do anything. But he could do this, he could save this man, make sure he got to keep his life with him long enough to be saved. He was so sure Techno was coming for him, had been so determined to stay alive for however long it took for Techno to reach him, and Missa could do this, could help him.

The wounds wouldn't close, they would both be losing far too much, but if it meant that Phil lived-

Missa was shakily attempting to wrap Phil's wounds when he slowly started rousing, eyes blinking rapidly as he struggled towards awareness, expression already set in anger and indignation. He still couldn't move- Missa barely could either, his fingers thick and fumbling as he attempted to tie what cloth they had off. His entire body was swaying, exhaustion pulling at him, his eyes burning with it- but he felt himself perk up a little on Philza's face, on the sight of light in his eyes.

"I- I thought I fucking told you to s-stop." Phil coughed, voice gritty with strain and fury.

“I couldn’t just let you die.” Missa said dully- it was the truth.

“Okay, but- stop trying to kill yourself just to save me.” Phil pressed again, and there was still anger there, but a desperation too, and Missa looked away, couldn’t bring himself to meet Phil’s eyes. “Mate, you’ve got your own fucking life ahead of you, you know? What about your family and your village? I’m sure at least some of them got out alright, and-”

Missa shook his head, hand coming up to his ears as if he could block out what Philza was saying, like it wasn’t ringing in his ears, echoing inside his skull until his head ached.

“Mate, please-”

"Philza!" Missa shouted, voice strained with desperation, and finally, finally Phil shut up. Missa could feel his eyes welling up again, but he reached out to hold Phil's arms, shake a little bit of sense into him. "You have said your Techno is coming, and I- My brother is dead-" He choked on that, tears finally falling and even though he couldn't look Phil in the eyes, he could feel a hand grabbing him back, holding him steady- "And I don't know if anyone else is alive either. I don't- no one knows if I'm alive, or even where to look, so. I was a dead man the second I entered this cell, whether I wanted to admit it or not."

"Missa, you-" Phil tried, but he stuttered to a stop when Missa lifted his head, met his gaze head-on.

"I am a dead man." He repeated, shaking Phil again as if that would make the truth sink into him. "So the best I can do is give whatever I have left to you."

"Don't fucking say that." Phil said darkly, pushing Missa's hands off. "I'm not fucking worth that, I'm not worth your fucking life, mate. I-"

He paused, looking at Missa like he was just seeing him for the first time. There was something like regret on his face, something a little sick and a little angry, and he reached out to rest a hand on Missa's cheek. His skin was warm, and Missa had never been so grateful to be able to feel that, to feel him. It was worth it, a thousand times over.

"I know I've- I've been talking Techno up." Phil started, a quavering note to his voice that Missa'd never heard from him before. "And I know him well enough to know he is coming, but mate- he's just one guy. I knew he might not make it before I kicked the bucket, shit like that just- happens. You didn't- fuck, it's not all on you to make sure I get out, especially not when it's costing you your life!"

"But I can make sure-"

"Why the fuck-" Phil pushed him again, both of them wobbling a bit with the motion, still a little too weak on both sides. "Why do you keep talking like that?! You think I'm just going to fucking leave your ass here? You think that was ever and option for me or Techno? What the fuck are you talking about."

Missa's silence was loud then, even to his own ears, and his heart sank in the same second that's Phil's wings did, disbelief set in the lines of his face.

"No fucking way." He said, breathless. "I wasn't- we weren't- we wouldn't-"

"It doesn't matter." Missa said, shaking his head. "If-" fuck, he hadn't wanted to say this part out loud. "- I just wanted to make sure you lived for Techno to get you. Nothing- nothing else mattered, okay? Nothing."

Phil froze for a moment, like he'd been struck. They looked at each other for a long moment, until Phil's hand come up again, finding a home on the back of Missa's neck and slowly pulling him close, his arm trembling a bit with the effort. Missa went, because he didn't know if he'd ever be able to say no to this, to warm touch and gentle hands and Philza- His forehead ended up resting against Phil's shoulder, the hand not on his neck finding a place against his ribs as their legs tangled together.

It was quiet for a long time, long enough that Missa could feel himself slowly drifting off, the sound of Phil's heartbeat and the lull of his breathing pulling him down even faster. The hand resting on his head slowly started working through his hair, and before he was completely gone, he heard Phil murmur, "I'm going to get you out of here, mate. Don't even worry about it."

Missa might've laughed at that, if he'd been more awake. It was a little sad though- he doubted he'd live long enough for Phil to keep that promise.

There was something final in the screech of the door as it opened.

Missa didn't know what exactly it was- maybe the grim set to the guard's mouths, maybe some lingering connection singing in the approaching closeness to Her domain, maybe it was just plain animal instincts, pulling together one last ditch attempt to preserve him. Whatever it was, Phil could sense it too, his slumped form going rigid in and instant, his eyes glinting a sharp blue as his hand came up as if to hold Missa in place.

But they were both weak from their push and pull, and it took no time at all for Phil to be pinned face down on the floor as Missa was dragged up, the grip on him far too strong to even attempt to shake off. Not that he was willing to try. Maybe this would finally be enough to get Phil to give up on him, the nail in the coffin to get him to move past Missa and refocus on Techno again, and his eventual rescue.

"Missa!" Phil screamed, like some kind of animal cry, like something desperate and dying, and Missa could feel tears pooling in his eyes.

Fuck, even after all his resolve, that fear was still trickling in, making his whole body tremble with it. He turned to look at Philza, to try and burn the image of him, still alive and furious, into his mind- but Phil was forcing himself up, his entire body rigid with the strain. His eye burned and unnatural blue as he caught Missa's gaze, and he threw himself forwards.

Missa couldn't help the startled yelp that escaped him as Phil's hand hooked around his neck, the other pushing the guard holding Missa out of the way, or at least attempting to. The guard drew his weapon, setting the point to Phil's shoulder to ward him off, but he didn't even seem to register it, not even when he pushed himself even closer, the blade cutting through his clothes and the meat of his shoulder with ease. His eyes were still shining, bright in a way Missa's probably had been when he'd been giving himself to Phil, and there was even more fear then, a desperation and worry that Phil was trying to return the favor, trying to give all he had, all that Missa had tried to give him-

His brain stumbled to a stop as lips pressed roughly against his, hard enough to split his lip as their noses awkwardly bumped against each other, but even that discomfort didn't really register in the face of what Phil had just done, what Missa could feel inside of him-

The hand resting on his neck was cold, but underneath the skin was something that had been all Philza before, but was now-

They were ripped away, the sword in Philza's shoulder cutting through his shoulder as the guard used it to shove him back, sending and arc of blood to splatter against the opposite wall. Phil gave a strangled scream, his hand coming up to hold the wound as his body shook with the pain, and the aftermath of what he'd just done- Missa could still feel it, could feel Philza inside of him, but instead of a singular push it was... a thread, tied between them, no pushing or pulling, but just a... a..

"Philza." He gasped, tears spilling down his cheeks as he looked back at the other, and Phil offered him a smirk, even as Missa was being shoved out the door. "Please, you didn't-"

"It doesn't matter what you fucking said before." Phil called, the door shattering shut between them, his eyes still that burning blue, and Missa sobbed. "I'm going to find you, mate. Just wait for me!"

He wanted to shake his head, to protest it all- Phil's words, the sudden thread bonding the two of them together, one he could feel even as he was forced further and further away, the conviction in Phil's eyes. But then he was out of sight entirely, Missa's feet dragging behind him as the guards hoisting him away continued their task wordlessly.

Missa's head dropped limply, eyes wide as he stared at the floor.

Fuck. What was he going to do now?

Phil was still buzzing with the aftereffects of his bond with Missa nearly an hour later, even as his side became strained.

He could feel the moment they'd started, could feel the slow leeching from him as Missa lost, and lost, and lost- fuck, they really were going to kill him, or at least try their best. Despite everything, Phil couldn't get anywhere close to regretting his decision. He worked at the hinges of the cell door again, scrapped at the bottom of the bars, checked each stone- but it was all unmoving, just like it'd been before Missa'd gotten there.

He'd been working at one of the bricks in the far corner of the cell before his sickness had caught up to him, but it felt like a stupid fucking waste of time now, when he could feel Missa slowly fading away. He couldn't stand for long, could barely manage to drag himself across the floor, and it was clear that even his renewed attempts at carving at the stone walls were pathetic and useless.

He was sweating and sore by the time he paused, frustration welling in him enough that his eyes felt hot and his skin felt itchy, and he punched the stone he'd been uselessly chipping at, splitting his knuckles.

"Fuck!" he shouted, his voice braking half way through, and he pressed his hand over his eyes. Crying wouldn't solve shit- he'd been content to wait Techno out for a bit, even with the background of 'sick and alone' had been weighing on him. Missa'd fixed that, even though Phil hadn't been aware of the first part for way too fucking long- he'd always been a bit dumb about those things. And now he was fucking back where he started, except worse because his- because Missa was fucking getting got. "Fuck! Kristin, I know you can't interfere too much with mortal shit, but you've gotta do something, please! Techno? Anyone!"

"Phil!" Came a harsh whisper, just behind him. He whirled around, not seeing- oh, fuck there was an eye there, looking at him through a small hole in the wall. "Phil, you can't be just callin' out the names of your allies in an enemy prison, that's kind of cringe."

"Techno-" Phil breathed, the flood of relief suddenly crashing over him enough to make him collapse limply under the weight of it, and he heard Techno exclaim, worry and fear in his tone, could hear the shifting of rocks, and then familiar hands were lifting him up, his upper body cradled in arms warm enough that they almost felt like they were burning. A similarily warm hand brushed over his forehead, tilting his head back. Phil couldn't help the wide smile spreading over his face. "Fuck me, mate. I wasn't sure I'd see you again."

"Yeah, turns out these losers are really good at hiding their war criminals." Techno said, his voice still low, though his eyes were scanning over Phil with a growing worry. "Though you definitely look worse then I was expecting. What, do they not have international conventions or human rights to consider here? They think they're exempt from the rules?"

"Techno-" Phil tried, a huff of lughter falling out of his mouth, but then the cold rim of a bottle was pressed against his lips. The healing potion was sickly sweet as it poured over Phil's tongue, but he could feel the sweep of magic that ran through him, easing the weight of his sickness, burning through the infection, stitching the flesh of his leg. It wasn't a cure all- his body was still heavy, his leg stiff in a way it hadn't been before, in a way that felt... permanent, maybe, but it was million fucking times better than before. He sighed, using Techno's arm to brace himself as he sat up, turning to look at him- "Techno-fucking-blade."

"That is not my name, Philza Minecraft." Techno said dryly, though there was relief in his voice too as he hand came to cup Phil's cheek, pressing his forehead against Phil's for a moment before turning back to look at the hole he made, and the subsequent tunnel that opened up behind it. "Alright Phil, here's the plan- we don't got that much time before the guys here notice something fishy- I think they might've caught onto the fact we've been scoutin' them out for a bit, so I'm gonna get you out of here and then come back for the other people while Etoiles and Fit play distraction up there-"

"No." Phil said flatly, pushing himself up further until he was standing shakily, Techno's hands hovering awkwardly around him as his bad leg threatened to buckle under him. "I've gotta-"

"No?" Techno repeated incredulously. "Phil, what do you mean no? I have a plan for a reason, man, and I know Etoiles is good but he can only-"

"There was- there was a man in here, he just got taken out, and- they're, they're going to kill him, Techno, so I- we gotta go get him." Phil grit out, begrudging resting a hand on Techno's shoulder before he toppled over- fuck, that was way worse than he'd thought. Turns out having an infected wound for ages has lasting consequences, who would've thought? "Fuck, we've gotta get him. He's still holding on but-"

"What- Phil. Look, I know you've probably made some really good friends in prison, but we you're not in any condition to stage a rescue for someone else. We're still in the middle of rescuin' you! I'll come back for him-"

"I would be dead without him!" Phil yelled, really yelled, the idea of leaving Missa behind when his hold was already so tenuous, growing weaker by the second- he couldn't stand that thought, couldn't even consider it. "Techno, he, I- I- can explain on the way, but I am not setting foot out of this cell without him."

He and Techno stared at each other for a moment, annoyed black on desperate blue, holding until Techno gave way with a sigh.

"Alright, Phil." He said, sounding resigned, but there was an elation taking hold of Phil now, a bubbling of hope that had been dead and in pieces mere moments before. it nearly felt like he had whiplash with the sudden turnabout of emotions inside his head, making him dizzy and- well, he was already a little wrongfooted, so maybe not that, but it definitely wasn't helping anything. "We'll get your guy, alright? but we are leaving immediately after, no if's ands or buts about it."

He sounded stern, but there was a warmth to his gaze as he stood, helping Phil settled back down onto the ground as he withdrew his pickaxe, making quick work of the cell door hinges before he moved the door, trying to be as quiet as possible. There was no sound of approaching footsteps just yet, so Phil held out hope, though he knew it would only get harder from here the further they went. He forced himself up again, leaning on the wall for support ad he moved to stand beside Techno- he could still feel Missa, flickering weakly on the other end, but it was more than enough to have a vague direction of where to head. He took Techno's offered arm of support and pointed down the hall.

"That way."

Techno sent him an odd look. "What, is that what your new powers of friendship are telling you?"

"I- it's complicated." he sighed, eyes closing slightly as Techno pressed his snout to Phil's hair in a quick kiss before they started moving again, each step pulling at the new scar on Phil's leg. "I was- I got sick, stab wound, infection, dirty cell, whole nine yards, and then they tossed Missa in there, and he has some kind of connection to Kristin, enough to like... give some of his life essence or whatever to like, keep a person going for a bit."

"And- he did that for you?" Techno said, having a vague understanding of how that kind of thing would work, though his own God worked very differently to Kristin. "Oh, man. Yeah, okay, if he did that for you, then- you gotta understand Phil, I just got here and you were all sick and sad and stuck in here for months-"

"Months?" Phil repeated.

"Yeah, and then you refuse to leave until we get this new guy- honestly I was starting to think the trauma bonding was gettin' to you. Which is fine for like, other people, but-" Techno leaned Phil up against the nearest wall as they approached a door in their way, wedging the point of his pickaxe through the lock and yanking it open with a squeal of buckling metal and wood. He offered Phil his hand again. "Let's get your guy, then, alright?"

"Thanks, Tech." Phil sighed, though there was a mild sense of guilt filtering in now. "But um, those 'friendship powers' you mentioned? You're honestly kind of... spot-on."

Techno squinted at him. "Is this some death thing I don't know about? Friends getting like, internal compasses towards each other when they've been stuck in a cell together for too long."

"More like... spiritual spouses?" Phil corrected tentatively with a slight grimance, wincing as Techno's eyes widened.

"Oh. Huh."

"Yeah..."

"So this is what happens when I leave you alone for a couple months? You start collecting husbands?" Techno ask flatly, though there wasn't any... accusation in his tone, and Phil allowed himself to relax, minutely. "Is this going to be a new hobby of yours? instead of disappearing into the woods for days on end, you're going to start bringing home spouses? Spiritual spouses?"

"Oh, please." Phil scoffed at him. "The three I have are more than fucking enough. Missa's just-"

He paused, the sound of footsteps putting them both on high alert, and they both scrambled to tuck themselves behind a corner, waiting the noise out and then a moment more before pushing on. They didn't have time to stall, even if it meant being reckless, but thankfully it seemed that Techno understood his urgency. It was a bit of a frantic scramble after that- he got the sense they'd left Missa alone for a second, maybe due to whatever distraction was happening up top, and he was determined to use the opportunity.

He'd gotten lucky so far- 'lucky' enough that he knew it was probably closer to a true miracle, the tug of the thread between him and Missa nestled safely in his chest as he followed it through the dungeon- though Techno had to jerk him back out of danger when he accidentally ran into a pair of guard. Both quickly dispatched before they could raise an alarm, but that sent the clock ticking, they knew. There was no way to hide the blood or the bodies, so they left them there, trying to move even faster before they were caught out.

He recognized the door he was guided to, the dark wood of it having infiltrated his nightmares over the past few weeks, as well as the layout of the inside, the cabinets of tools lining the walls, the operating table inside, the blood-

It was a little strange, just how reminiscent of his nightmare the room was as Techno forced it open, his eyes immediately finding Missa as he laid out limply across the table, his skin nearly an ashen gray, blood settling into the grout and pooling across the ground, the tool carelessly abandoned on their table.

He reached Missa first, panic striking through him like a bolt of lightning as he gathered him up in his arms, not caring the blood that was getting everywhere as he held Missa close.

"Techno." he sobbed, burying his face in Missa's blood-soaked hair- he could still feel him, could still feel the life in him, fluttering like a bird in his cold body. "Please-"

Techno didn't need prompting, having been right beside Phil the second he turned, potion already in hand. He upended it straight onto Missa, and though the blood made it difficult to tell, Phil could feel it between them, that strength slowly returning to him. He breathed a sigh of relief, a tear carving over his cheek as he helped techno guide another potion to Missa's mouth, fingers running over his throat to help him swallow.

His breathing eased some, which allowed Phil's to do the same, finally reassured enough to let his grip on Missa slacken of Phil offered a hand- he picked Missa up with a gentleness that made Phil ache, cradled him close to his chest as he turned to Phil again.

"Alright, now lets get outta here." He said with a small smile, and Phil smiled back at him with enough force that his cheeks ached with it. "While we still technically have stealth on our side."

"For however long that lasts." Phil agreed, his voice a little weak, but he wasn't too fussed about it. The relief running through him was making him downright giddy, and he quickly grabbed one of the tools off the table, still blood stained, but- fuck, just having a weapon was already making him feel better. "Alright, let's-"

He was cut off by the sound of the door behind them opening, the guard on the other side going from nonchalant to alert in a split second as he caught sight of Phil and Techno. There was a small group behind him, and the sound of several weapons being drawn at once, as well as shouts of alarm.

"Shit." Phil said flatly.

There went their stealth.

Missa could tell he was being carried when he awoke, half convinced that he'd been mistaken for dead- or maybe was close enough that the distinction didn't matter- and was about be tossed in a shallow grave, or whatever the Federation did with its prisoners.

Then the voices started filtering in, the person holding him unfamiliar and deep, rattling in his chest, and the other-

Missa jerked a little, light burning even through his eyelids, the sound of Philza's voice, still unintelligible reaching his ears. There was a hand on his chest, holding him in place as he was jostled around- running, they were running, Phil still close behind- running together then? Away? He didn't know. Forcing his eyes open didn't help either, pained tears blurring his vision further as the light threatened to blind him. More light than he'd seen in months, more than likely, and his whole body was struggling with it.

"- that was close." Phil was saying.

"Your guy is wakin' up-"

"Oh, shit- Missa, it's okay, you're okay, mate."

"Phil, keep it down!" That voice was whispered, bird song and leaves and everything else filtering in now too, and Missa blinked his eyes again and again, forcing himself to take in whatever he could- only to find himself face-to-face with a mildly familiar piglin, Phil's face pressing in close beside him. His heart sank. "Those losers are still after us-"

"Missa, it's okay, we got out now-" he was cut off as an arrow flew past, sinking into the tree beside him- and then they were up again, the two of them scrambling away from their pursuers as Missa's frazzled brain desperately tried to piece everything together. Thankfully(?) their stint of running lasted for long enough for him to mostly get his bearings- and also to spot the guard attempting to follow after them. Phil was taking lead and the piglin seemed to be following him, step-for-step, juking and ducking through trees and under logs in such a winding and backwards pattern that even Missa felt confused by it- but they finally stopped when they ducked inside a cave, both of them breathing hard with effort.

Phil promptly collapsed against the cave wall, pressing his forehead against the stone as the piglin- Techno, Missa guessed- pressed a reassuring hand on his shoulder.

"I think we lost them." he said with breathless relief, and it was enough that Missa struggled again, uselessly attempting to push himself out of Techno's arms.

"Let me go, let go of me-" Missa creaked, his breath coming out in frantic puffs now- he was weigh them down, they'd risked death and capture and whatever else just to get him, and he wasn't fucking worth-. "You should have left me behind! Why did you come back for me? You- leave me, you two should just go now, while you still have a chance!"

"We weren't just going to fucking leave you, mate!" Phil hissed, coughing a bit as he struggled to take in another breath. He pulled himself closer to Techno, and subsequently Missa, his eyes burning. "What the fuck did I say? I promised to find you- I said that we weren't going to leave you behind, and I fucking meant that!"

"They're after you still, I'm just going to slow you both down- you're still hurt-" Missa tried, still pushing at Techno, though it was like pushing at the stone walls of their cell. "Philza, I didn't- I wanted-"

"I know what you said to me." Phil said seriously, his voice edging on a growl now, and far past a whisper. "But that shit doesn't matter, alright? I wasn't- I won't let you fucking die that easily, mate. You're stuck with me."

"Philza-" Missa tried again, his voice breaking on his name, and there was something in Phil that snapped, his spine going rigid, but Missa knew he was right, had known for months, had planned for months- "Just. Let me go. Please."

"You're fucking staying with us!" Phil shouted, his wings coming up again like some kind of threat display, though Missa refused to be cowed, not about this. Not when he knew just how useless he was now.

"Phil." Techno said sternly, and even that single word was enough to get Philza to deflate, his wings hanging limply of his back as his face twisted into something awful for a moment, before it was shuttered away again. He felt Techno's arm tighten around him, saw that large hand reach up to angle his face so they could meet eyes, and even Techno's expression was stern, almost a reprimand in itself as he looked down at Missa. "Hey, look. I know we don't know each other that well, but we're going to at least get you to a village and like. Patched up a little before we make any big decisions."

Missa opened his mouth to protest, but Techno was already standing again, already moving as Phil limped angrily along beside him. He wanted to protest further, wanted to squirm his way out of Techno's arms, the warmth of the skin touching his suddenly itching and wrong- but he stilled as Techno sent him another look.

"Look man, I'm not going to pretend I know what happened but-" he glanced at Phil, who was still looking at Missa, his angry expression looking more and more frail with every step. Missa's heart twisted in his chest at the sight, and he tentatively offered a hand for Phil to take, which he immediately latched onto, squeezing with a desperation Missa never wished to see on him. "Phil hasn't stopped talking about you since I found him, and he damn sure wasn't going to just leave you in there. We can figure out the rest later alright?"

He looked up at Techno again, tears welling in his eyes, and squeezed Phil's hand in return.

It felt wrong, to just lay there and accept this, to just allow himself to be dragged along as dead weight, to still be alive, even after all that had happened, being so convinced that there wasn't any chance for him- the breeze was cool as it swept over his skin. Phil's hand was callused and warm in his. The trees around them rustled and scattered sunlight in patches across the ground, brighter than anything he could ever remember seeing.

Life and light and noise. And Philza, still looking at him with an earnestness that Missa couldn't help but want.

It was relief then, rather than resignation that trickled through him, the thread still sitting between him and Phil thrumming steadily, and he closed his eyes.

He fell asleep with an ease that should've scared him, but there was something in him that felt safe, more than anything.