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Saps nervously wrings his hands, trying to force warmth back into his fingers where they've gone numb from the phantom sensations of frostbite.
It's just him and Flux in the empty hall of his vacation home. Flux shouldn't really be here, given he's been banned from the meeting happening in a short few hours, but Saps can't find it in himself to ask him to leave. His presence is an assurance - though of what, exactly, Saparata doesn't know. His thoughts have been straying from their discussion to check if the table is correctly aligned, if all the chairs are equally spaced, to the details of the gold lining on his friend's coat and his own, comparatively mundane clothes, wondering if he should have procured more formal clothing for such an important occasion.
Flux notices his discomfort - not that he's been trying to hide it very hard in the first place - with a dramatic roll of his eyes. He pushes away from the table he's been leaning against, helping Saps go over the main points of the meeting for what must have been the twentieth time, and gently flicks him on the forehead.
"Don't worry Saps, I'm sure-"
"-the meeting will go well."
Saparata gives him an awkward smile, eyes flickering to the side, and pushes down the surging nausea.
"Sorry, I must have spaced out. What did you say?"
Flux gives him a faux-offended huff, hand reaching out to affectionately ruffle his hair even as obsidian eyes drown in discontent.
"Don't worry-"
"-so much, idiot. You are a great mediator, and the leaders all love you."
Saps breathes out, closing his eyes, and tells himself the shaky exhale is due to the nerves from the upcoming meeting. It's not because of the ghosts that haunt his steps these days, because ghosts don't exist. It's not because he keeps losing focus and overhearing conversations that never happened, because he doesn't have a reason to be going insane. It's not because-
His attention keeps jumping to the ceiling. He's resisted staring at it, resisted acknowledging the eerie and consistent pull, the sense of dread descending on his shoulders like a mine caving in.
But Flux is staring at him, his hand now a comforting weight on his shoulder, a rueful smile on his lips that Saps somehow knows is not caused by his exclusion from the meeting that will decide the future of Pandora, is not because he doesn't trust their leaders, or because he's forced to comfort Saps.
It's guilt.
And Saparata feels something in him give with the next hitched breath, like a flower stem breaking in a mild breeze.
"There's something in the roof."
Flux's expression does not change to confusion at his abrupt, blurted statement. He simply stills, shutters falling into the space between them after an endless moment as his face relaxes into a controlled blankness. His eyes bore holes into Saparata, hand tightening on his shoulder to an almost painful degree.
Saparata doesn't notice. His whole body jerks like he's been burned, wrenching away from his best friend as he stumbles to the nearest chest still holding scaffolding from the construction of his vacation house. There are no tangible thoughts in his mind, just the numbing, tingling sensation spreading down his limbs. He rummages through the chest, forgetting halfway through what he's trying to find. His hands shake - he drops the axe he tried to shove aside not because of pain but because the blood makes his grip slip. He doesn't recall where it came from, was it Alke's or his scarred guardian's? No, it was dripping down the smooth diamond edge buried in-
Finally, his fingers clutch around something shaped vaguely like scaffolding, more aided by his sight than touch. The chest slams shut - behind him, Flux hasn't moved an inch, seemingly rooted in place. The hall is empty save for them and the screams and the blood pooling under the table and people pointing weapons at him and he's innocent but nobody cares.
Halfway up to the ceiling he realises the ragged breathing he keeps hearing is coming from himself. Distant thoughts of a panic attack barely make it past the haze, and even if he had the mind to acknowledge it he wouldn't know how to stop it. It takes all his focus just to force his heavy limbs to keep moving and stacking up the scaffolding.
He can't see Flux anymore, did he leave? Is the meeting already about to begin? Then why is Saps going up to the roof?
The sandstone breaking sends a shower of dust and rocks into his eyes and mouth. He coughs, eyes squeezing shut, fist breaking away more chunks of the ceiling until he can finally drag himself up through the opening.
Saps lies on his back, black spots dancing in his vision as he wheezes and tries to force some air back into his lungs. His whole body protests when he pushes himself up, arms trembling and then giving out under him and he shuts his eyes again when he falls onto his side. The rough sandstone dust aggravates his throat, and it's so dark up here and he doesn't want to see the contraptions primed to kill people and sow paranoia and hate and he has to keep moving because no one will believe him here anymore, and the trial was rigged and it was all Flux's plan. His best friend looks down at him with empty, dead eyes, a corpse reanimated by self-imposed duty and refusal to be proven wrong.
"Can't say no to a friend, can I?"
The roof is empty.
Saps doesn't quite comprehend what he's seeing. There's only the distant sound of his rapid breaths as his eyes slowly adjust to the darkness, and he finally manages to push himself up to sit. His mind is dangerously blank.
The roof is empty.
There is no redstone outlining the future in blood. No hidden pistons, no deadly dripstone poised to end precious lives. There aren't even any signs of other presence here before him, no dusty footprints or remains of redstone dust.
The roof is completely empty.
There's a weight against his back. He doesn't quite notice it at first, watching as if detached from his own body as a hand picks up his own bloodied one. He barely feels the water being poured on it, or the cloth clearing away the sandstone debris, or the softness of the bandages that come to gently and securely wrap around it. Everything is coming to him through a filter, muffled like he's underwater, or imagining a scene retold through communicator messages.
It could be minutes or hours before he starts coming back to himself. He feels wrung out, like he had gotten buried under a pile of sand again, and his hand stings like hell. His lungs ache when he draws in air, and his breath shakes when he lets it out.
His back is propped up against something warm. His mind helpfully supplies a mix of images both comforting and haunting because it's always Flux, everything is his fault, part of his masterplan, just a calculated sacrifice, but-
But the roof is empty.
Saps brings their still intertwined hands - why hasn't he let go yet - across his chest, feeling stupid and hopeful and dreading being almost certainly proven wrong. But Flux just tightens his hold, and brackets his body like he can shield him from the past and from himself.
"Not this time."
And Saps can pretend it's his best friend's confident, almost cocky voice, with a playful lilt that drives most people up the wall, and not barely-there words whispered into the dark like a plea. Can pretend they are in one of the meadows around his home, with Flux sitting against a tree and Saps leaning against his chest as Flux scoffs and sneers about anything from their leaders' incompetence to the awful humid weather while he absentmindedly weaves small braids in Saps's hair, and not in an empty, dusty ceiling choke-full of past memories and regret, clinging to each other like a fraying lifeline.
Before he knows it, he's pressing his lips against the back of a freezing hand, like he always does when the ramblings turn into more paranoia-fueled speeches barely covering the fear and uncertainty lying at the heart of it all.
"I believe you."
He briefly wonders if he's making a mistake, trusting like this again. But he vows to himself to watch Flux more closely from now on, to look out for Thomas and try to befriend NewKids and maybe talk to the others, Seraphim how could you.
The hurt of betrayal won't fade immediately, and he still has the Ish-forsaken meeting to mediate in a couple of hours, but for now, he allows them both a few minutes of reprieve from the unknown future.