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Waking up was the worst. Not because of the pain returning—Ignis had gotten used to the burn of his injuries. That part faded more each and every day. It was the worst because in his dreams Ignis was still able to see and waking up threw him back into a world that was nothing but dark. A blackness that no amount of blinking could dispel, no light switch to be flipped. Ignis was stranded in the dark and returning to it over and over again, rubbed him thin.
It was nothing he could discuss with his brothers. Noctis had only just woken up, Gladio was so high strung that one wrong word might topple him over the edge of his sanity, and Prompto tried to shoulder so much already that Ignis didn’t want to put more on the sharpshooter’s plate. Besides, it was nothing Ignis couldn’t learn to handle. He could work through the panic surging through him when he woke, could stifle his heavy gasps for air when he felt as if he couldn’t breathe. What was one more thing the had to master in his new reality?
Despite it all the advisor never once wavered in his decision, never once wished he could turn back time to change it and with that the outcome of it all. Ignis had sworn already as a very young boy to protect Noctis, to do everything in his power to keep him safe.
He would never see the boy he once met grow into the man he was supposed to be. If anything that hurt more than his injuries ever had. It hurt on a deeper level. All the changes in Noctis and his friends he would never get to see. It gutted him over and over again, especially when in his dreams he had seen his brothers.
The sound that woke Ignis was his own sobbing, pillow wet with his tears where the few bandages still covering the worst of his wounds hadn’t caught the them. The burn on his tender skin made Ignis only cry harder when once more the dream images slipped away. One day he might not even have those anymore. He could go without the nightmares sneaking up on him, but with those he would also lose the few good dreams. Like the one he just woke up from.
Ignis reached over to the nightstand, unsteady upon waking. The filled water glass which Prompto left for him each night met his fingers, and then tipped with the force of Ignis’ movement. The sound of glass hitting the ground was loud in the otherwise night-quiet room. Ignis cursed under his breath.
“It’s just water,” he whispered to himself as he moved to get up from the bed. The carpet was wet where the water had spilled, and Ignis winced at the sensation. The warmth the bed had provided left his body when he moved through the room to get a towel from the attached bathroom. He could at least try to clean some of the mess he made.
Doing something calmed Ignis’ racing thoughts, and while realising that, his attention slipped elsewhere. Only for a second, but that was enough for him to bump against the edge of the bed. Ignis cursed and stumbled, and then the cracking sound of glass and the sharp pain of something piercing his foot had him still. His heart rate picked up at the unexpected sensation. Ignis’ next inhale got stuck in his throat. Instead of stepping away from the now cracked glass, he fell to his knees, more shards of glass digging into his skin, not all of them breaking it.
His collar felt too tight. Ignis pulled at it to get it away from his throat. Where the night air had cooled him down before the heat of panic now prickled at his nerves, lighting a fire that had Ignis sweat while he simultaneously trembled. His mouth was dry, all he heard was static, until —
“Iggy? Hey, Iggy! Are you all right?” Suddenly Prompto was there. Ignis wheezed, wanted to warn him about the glass on the ground. His throat tightened around the effort of forming words, left him coughing instead. “I’ll touch you, buddy. Gladio will lift you up in a sec.”
There were Prompto’s hands on his arms, a firm touch that grounded Ignis despite everything. The cold water seeping into his pyjama bottoms let a row of flashbacks come up; the memory of the cold water at the altar, the smell of salt in the air over Altissia. It wasn’t even much water, yet Ignis’ mind decided it was too much. He whimpered, clinging to Prompto’s hands.
“You’re safe, Iggy,” Prompto said.
“I’ll lift you off the ground,” Gladio said. “There you go.”
Ignis leaned against the warmth that was Gladio. The Shield was an anchor in this sea of darkness only dotted with the most unpleasant memories in a sick copy of stars. Breaths came in short gasps, a feeling of light-headedness sinking in. If Gladio or Prompto said anything, Ignis didn’t hear it, all sound lost in the static in his ears.
It was a sharp stinging sensation on his foot that brought him back. At least somewhat. Ignis gasped and tried to pull away, but big, warm hands held his foot steady.
“I’m getting the glass out, Iggs,” Gladio said. “You stepped into a few shards. “
Ah, right. Ignis remembered that. “Oh.”
“It’s not deep. We just don’t want to risk an infection because we don’t remove all the glass, right?” Gladio’s voice was gruff, his touch gentle. They had patched each other up so many times Ignis couldn’t even remember, still this felt more vulnerable. It was the first time he was patched up after Altissia, with something that weren’t the wounds he suffered from the use of the Ring.
“Thank you,” Ignis managed to croak.
“I brought some tea,” Prompto said from somewhere to his right. “And when Gladio’s done there are fresh pyjamas waiting.”
Ignis couldn’t help but smile. “Thank you,” he said again.
“Stop that,” Gladio said. He was dabbing at the cuts with antiseptic, but this time Ignis was somewhat prepared for it. “Thanking me. Us.”
“What am I supposed to say, then?” asked Ignis.
“Nothin’ if all you got is useless thanks.” Gladio sighed, groaned. “Sorry, I’m … I’ll be done shortly.”
For the rest of the treatment none of them said a word. The tension was so thick it seemed to make the dark surrounding Ignis even darker. Ignis grabbed his thighs hard enough it would bruise while Gladio finished his business, and then left with a short, “Night”. Only after the door closed behind him, Ignis was able to take a normal breath again.
“Gladio doesn’t sleep well lately,” Prompto said and Ignis was sure the blonde wrung his hands as he did so. “He’s … “
“Short tempered?” Ignis tried. “Yeah, I guess we all are. I … I appreciate your help. And Gladio’s, even when he’s … yeah.”
“Do you want to talk about what happened? Should I help you get changed? I … I know you can do that alone, obviously, but you are pretty shaky and I … well, I thought maybe you need help? And not because you can’t see. Just be-because you’re my friend.” The longer he spoke the higher Prompto’s voice climbed.
Perhaps Prompto, too, needed something to do to calm his racing thoughts. All of them were working through what had happened in Altissia still. “I would like some assistance,” Ignis said and he could hear the sigh of relief Prompto let out at that. So this was the right call, after all.
“Okay!” With that Prompto sprung to action. While they changed Ignis out of the wet pyjama bottoms, and the dry shirt, Ignis took stock of himself. It was true that he was shaken, his hands unsteady, his throat still a bot too tight, but overall he was better off than before.
Once the changing into fresh pyjamas was done, Ignis also found the words he had wanted to say, maybe needed to say. “In my dreams I can still see,” Ignis started with. “Every time I wake up it’s like losing sight all over again. I was unsteady upon waking up to the darkness again, and then dropped the glass, and stepped into it.” Ignis shrugged, sighed. “That sounds so pathetic.”
“You were having a panic attack,” Prompto said. “Is that … did you have those before and not told any of us?”
Ignis knew when to hide things and when that was useless, so he said, “It’s been happening for a while now. Nothing unusual, though, right? I’m sure we all have our trauma from … from Altissia.”
“Can I ask of you to stop hiding things? I know everything is pretty fucked up right now, but we’re brothers, Ignis. If it were me or anyone else from us you would now tell them to not be stupid and to have some faith in us.”
“Well, that does sound a bit like me, I have to admit.”
“I know,” Prompto said.
The door to the room opened again, and two sets of footsteps approached the bed. “Isn’t anyone knocking anymore?” asked Ignis without being able to hide the fondnes in his words.
“I woke the princess so we can all sleep here together,” Gladio said. “Unless you’d rather be alone.”
“I will sleep here next to Specs now,” Noctis yawned. “No way I’m going back through that cold hallway.”
The bed dipped from the Prince climbing into it. When his legs brushed Ignis’ thighs Ignis shivered. “By the Six, you’re really cold.”
“I said it’s cold outside,” Noctis mumbled, and moved to make himself comfortable.
“Are you going to keep standing there, Gladio?” Ignis tilted his head in the direction in which he guessed the Shield to stand. “Come over here.”
It wasn’t the first time all of them slept together in a bed, but it was the first time all of them arranged around each other since Altissia. Ignis was glad that even though the world had irrevocably changed, they hadn’t. Yes, all of them were battered and bruised and the dynamic of their tight-knit group was off by a lot, but in the end they all still had each other’s backs.