Chapter Text
Darkness, purple and red in swirling ribbons, and the oppressive smell of blood, blood, blood. It stuck in his nostrils and clung to the back of his throat, mixing with the thick and cloying scent of rotting petals and mud.
He tried to reach out, to move his body, to get himself back on his feet because if he stayed still for too long he knew he was dead.
He might be dead anyways.
For a moment he let himself float. Somewhere out there beyond his bubble of purple and blood there were noises, things he thought he was meant to recognize but they meant nothing. They were nothing. He was nothing.
Then there was something touching him, jostling him, and the pain came roaring back in and he tried to fight it, tried to make the pain go away again, but his own weak and feeble movements only brought the pain screaming back harder. The sounds too had changed, softened and comforted.
He stilled, surprised, and was lifted up off the ground. Only then did the pain and everything that he was fade away into unknowingness.
Boil woke in a panic with the faint strains of a voice singing still ringing in his mind. For a moment he didn’t know where he was until there was a gentle hand on his shoulder.
“Waxer?” He rasped, hoping without hope for a miracle.
“I’m sorry.” Trapper murmured back. “I’m sorry.”
And he came crashing back down again. He opened his eyes to see Trapper leaning over him, sorrow in his eyes.
They were on the ship. They had come home, but they hadn’t been able to bring Waxer with them, not even able to send him off properly, what with having to deal with Krell and all that had come afterwards.
“Who was singing?” He asked, trying to pull the tune back into his mind, to distract himself from the raging tide of grief that would pull him in and drown him if he let it. He knew that the tsunami of it threatened and he wouldn’t be able to escape it forever, but still he would swim. It was all he had, all he had ever known how to do.
“Singing?” Trapper asked. “I woke up when I felt you flailing, but I didn’t hear anyone singing.”
“Anyone else awake?” Not only would Trapper not lie to him, not here, not after this, but everyone knew that Trapper couldn’t sing to save himself from the Seppies. It didn’t necessarily stop him, but Boil hadn’t thought it sounded like Trapper.
“Not that I can tell. Little surprised actually, because you were kicking quite a bit.”
“Sorry.” Boil knew he sometimes got violent in his dreams, because he dreamt so frequently of things that might have been, that might yet be, and because Waxer teased him for it, had teased him for it, time and time again.
“It’s alright. What were you dreaming about?”
“I’m not sure.” Boil didn’t want to try to make sense of the fragmented terror.
“Do you want to try to go back to sleep?”
“Yes.” He was so tired, and it was still the night cycle. Trapper curled back up against him and slowly, ever so very slowly, Boil drifted back off to sleep.
He woke up slowly. He was dry, no longer covered in blood and the stinking mud. Somewhere nearby, someone was singing in a soft and lilting voice. It sounded vaguely familiar and yet utterly strange to his ears and he tried to open his eyes.
He managed to get them open a crack, but the light was blinding and he shut them again as quickly as he could manage. Everything hurt.
“Are you awake my friend?” That definitely wasn’t the voice of a vod, though it was the voice of the singer. He turned his head and tried to open his eyes again. The light was dimmer and he managed to make out the blurry image of a being in a navy flight suit. A pale green hand swum into his field of vision and gently tilted his head a little.
“You are awake. This is very good news. You have been asleep for many cycles and I had begun to worry that between my meagre medical skills and malfunctioning medical droid we had done you in rather than saved you.”
“Wha?” He managed nothing more than a barely audible rasp.
“Be calm my friend, I will bring you some ice and we shall see if we can get you home again soon.”
He drifted for a moment, and then xe were back, scooping some ice chips into his mouth. The little bit of coolness and moisture was a relief.
He only got a few before dropping slowly and yet inexorably back into sleep, the being once again picking up xer song as he floated away.