Archive of Our Own

Creius didn't regret his actions the day some anti-Foundation group attacked. Not one bit. He'd seen the arcanists come into view, heard Name Day's cry of pain, and just reacted, using his skill for the first time in a long time to protect his companion. He didn't even think, he just acted. The pain that followed was the worst that he'd ever felt, but it was worth it to see Name Day safe.

Even when five weeks passed by before he became aware of things again, he still did not regret his choice that day.

It's been a week since he woke up, and Creius has been poked and prodded more than he'd like. The medical team treating him can't seem to believe that he actually did wake up which both alarms Creius and worries him. But Marsha assures him once they leave that he's fine and they're just being nosy; she's lying, he can see it in her eyes, but he nods and lays back anyway and a second later there's a warm weight curling into his side. He smiles and glances down at Name Day, who hasn't left his side since he woke up.

Who cried and told him he loved him before crying some more.

Creius does regret the pain he put Name Day through while he was comatose. It's not like he planned on entering a coma, it was just what happened. From what he's been told, Name Day had sat himself by his bedside and refused to leave unless someone dragged him away. Creius looks down at his love properly, taking note of the tiredness beneath his eyes and the way the clothes he wears seem larger on him. He tries not to linger on what it means; he's awake now and well on the mend, so things can only get better.

Without thinking, he drags a hand through Name Day's loose hair and smiles as the tension leaves him. Tired eyes lift to return the smile before they slip shut, and Creius feels Name Day drift off to sleep, becoming a heavy weight against him.

"He hasn't been sleeping well," Mesmer Jr remarks where she's observing his vitals. She doesn't look at him as she continues, "his friends are starting to worry."

"He is sleeping now," Creius says.

Mesmer Jr looks over now, eyebrow raised. "Not for long," she turns away again, picks up his chart and makes a note, "I'm just letting you know. You know how he gets."

Creius nods, and gently runs his hand through Name Day's hair again, careful not to disturb him, "I'll keep an eye on him."

"You're being moved to the recovery ward today," Mesmer Jr says, a hint of a smile on her face, "since you're no longer in danger of dying."

Finally, Creius thinks, relieved to get out of the intensive care unit and move somewhere less dreary and medical looking. The recovery ward is the next step while doctors evaluate his condition and help him get back to how he was before the incident. Creius most looks forward to having less doctors visiting him; it's tiring, to be poked and prodded so much, but he's put up with it in the hopes that it'll get him out of the medical centre faster.

"When will that happen?" He asks.

Mesmer Jr checks her watch and her brow furrows, "sometime this afternoon, although Marsha is pushing for as soon as possible."

"I think we all want me out of here sooner," the corner of Creius' mouth lifts up and he's pleased to see a look of amusement cross the young girls face.

"Well, rest up while you still can, visiting hours are a looser there and I'm sure you'll have quite a few people wanting your attention."

Crieus can only imagine. While he'd been comatose, the medical staff had been more willing to allow visitors, but after his waking, they'd kicked out his team and told them to come back when he was moved to a different room. They had tried to kick out Name Day as well, but his love had looked so devastated that the poor doctor had given up before he could finish speaking.

So he expects to have his time occupied over the next few days, and decides that since Name Day is sleeping, he should sleep too. "Thank you, Miss Mesmer, for all you have done," Creius murmurs as he gets comfortable and closes his eyes. He drifts off to sleep so fast that if she responded to him, he didn't hear it.

The room Creius is moved to is brighter than his previous one, a single window providing enough light and a pleasant view. Name Day follows behind him, keeping out of the staff's way when they assist him from chair to bed and taking up residence in the singular chair in the room, dragging it from its corner to the bedside. At least now it's a more comfortable chair than the hard plastic one he's been sitting in the past week. One of the staff takes the time to explain that someone will come by this evening to check on him and then the doctor will be by in the morning to discuss recovery plans. Creius nods along until the staff member finishes talking and leaves and then sags back against the pillows. He hadn't even done anything more than move from bed to chair and chair to bed and he's already exhausted.

"Are you alright?" Name Day asks him, worry furrowing his brow.

Creius smiles reassuringly and nods, "I'm just tired."

"It is normal, apparently, for your stamina to be lacking after so long of not moving." Name Day says not quite looking at Creius as he explains something that Marsha no doubt taught him.

He knows this of course, but still he nods like it's the first time he's hearing it. Just then, the door to Creius' room is opened none to gently, and both he and Name Day look to see Medicine Pocket standing in the doorway.

The researcher's arms are crossed over their chest as they give Creius a quick study before focusing on Name Day, a stern expression on their face. "Have you eaten today?"

The fact that Name Day doesn't immediately respond is answer enough and Medicine Pocket sighs.

"I lost track of time…" Name Day grumbles, rising from his chair and then leans over to kiss Creius' brow, "will you be okay if I'm gone?"

Creius nods, "go eat something. Take care of yourself."

Name Day nods and walks over to Medicine Pocket, and he's surprised to see the researcher let Name Day go first before following after him, chattering about some experiment of theirs that Creius has no hope of beginning to understand. But he's glad they stopped by; he too had forgotten about the time and how every day, Medicine Pocket came by and stole Name Day from his side for an hour or so.

It gives Creius the chance to think about his situation without worrying Name Day in the process.

Because it's not great.

In the weeks of immobility, his body has fallen out of shape terribly. His muscles are gone, and he feels more like an infant learning to walk again than the leader of XII; his hands have a tremble to them that he's been promised will go as he builds up strength again, and he's just so tired all the time. That's the part that gets him the most, how he was essentially asleep for over five weeks and yet its left him feeling more exhausted than ever. He knows why of course, he's not ignorant of what coma's do to people, but there's a difference between knowing and experiencing.

Both Marsha and his doctors have told him the severity of his injuries, how it's a miracle that he even survived them in the first place. Creius has seen the scars that remain himself, so he understands how close to death he came. But it doesn't make it any easier to stare down the recovery period that awaits him.

He's nothing if not determined and stubborn, as Yermolai loves to tell him, so he's choosing to be optimistic that he'll recover well enough. Right now though, he just feels a little down about it.

Creius sighs after a time, realising how much he enjoys having Name Day with him, and just how much he misses the man when he's gone. There's a clock in his room, but it indicates that not even a quarter hour has passed since Name Day's departure and he sighs again. He has a long hour ahead of him. He could sleep but he's reluctant to considering just how much he's been sleeping lately.

The decision is made for him when the door to his room opens again and Yermolai steps through, grinning as he always is.

"Look at you with the fancy new room," Yermolai says, looking around, "much nicer than the other one."

"Well the other one is for dying people, so I would hope the recovery ward is a little nicer." Creius raises a brow, "where are the others?"

"Paravyan's got a cold so he got denied by one of those Laplace people, the strange one that always wants to run out into the Storm."

Yermolai's pretty much describing almost every person in the building, but Creius just nods. It's easier than trying to figure out who exactly his teammate means.

"Marsha said she'll visit later or tomorrow, she's busy with that gargoyle that came to visit right now, and Merel is doing whatever Merel does."

Considering how terrified Merel seems of him, he'd be surprised if she willingly visited him. But it's a good sign that she's still here with the rest of XII rather than trying to desert again. Creius looks up at Yermolai and nods to the chair that Name Day vacated earlier, "you can sit."

Yermolai does, and then seems to realise that Creius is alone for he asks, "where's your lover?"

Creius raises a brow at the choice of words, but says, "he was accosted by Medicine Pocket to go eat something. He'll be back later."

"Ah, so he's still not taking care of himself." Yermolai leans back in the chair and kicks his feet up onto Creius' bed. "One would think that you waking up would mean he doesn't have to keep a vigil all day every day."

Creius hums, "I almost died and was then in a coma for five weeks, I think he's just trying to adjust to that. He's got his friends looking out for him though, so I'm not too worried."

"Liar." Creius scowls and Yermolai laughs, waving his hand. "Sorry, but you aren't subtle, Creius. I watched you nearly launch yourself out of bed when he stumbled my last visit."

Okay, so maybe Name Day's intense watching over of him is worrying him a little, but he's not wrong when he says that Name Day's friends looking out for him help to ease that worry. It's on his very small list of things to do, to talk to his love about how he's feeling; he'd meant to do it sooner, but the revolving door of doctors and friends made it hard to get a private moment together.

"He'll be fine," Creius says eventually and then decides to change the subject entirely, "have you been assigned a job yet?"

"Nah, things are a bit quiet at the moment. There's some tension between the Foundation and Laplace that's causing some problems, but nothing worth our attention."

Creius frowns, "the Foundation and Laplace always butt heads with each other, or is it more than that now?"

"Way more than just a little spat now," Yermolai leans back in the chair, throwing his arms up behind his head, but the easygoing grin he wears is still firmly plastered onto his face, "there was an argument between Enigma and the uh, I don't know his name, Name Day's friend."

"Medicine Pocket."

"Yes, Medicine Pocket. But there was an argument between them and then Enigma was seen arguing with the higher ups in the Foundation. I don't know how it went, but it's definitely not good if the higher ups are butting heads with each other."

Creius tries to remember if he'd heard anything recently about a conflict, but nothing comes to mind. The people in charge of his care are ultimately Laplace, but they haven't given any hint as to any problems other than the usual ones that crop up on a daily basis. "Keep an eye on it," he says, "it might come to a head when we least expect it, so we need to be ready."

"You think the Foundation and Laplace will come to a physical confrontation?" Yermolai sounds surprised, eyes widening slightly.

"I don't think so, but Laplace is… eccentric, things don't have to turn to a fight with them. I wouldn't put it past the Foundation to use physical force if they deemed it necessary though." Creius says, already formulating plans in his mind.

Yermolai's expression turns serious, "I'll let Paravyan and the others know. You need to focus on getting better though."

Creius gives Yermolai a wry smile, "I can only go as fast as my body allows me to."

Before either of them can say anything else, the door creaks open and Name Day steps back into the room, looking much more haggard than when he left, and Creius doesn't hesitate to shift over in the bed and pat the empty spot. Name Day smiles and shuffles over, ignoring Yermolai like he isn't even there and crawls up to nestle into Creius' side.

"Never again," Name Day says before he can ask what happened, "am I letting Medicine Pocket and Pointer run into each other again."

Yermolai snorts in amusement, "a bit of a scuffle?"

Name Day lifts his head suddenly realising that it's not just him and Creius in the room, "hello, Yermolai, and a bit is putting it mildly. Enigma had to get involved. But it is resolved now, as best it can be." Name Day looks to him, "Medicine Pocket might sneak in tomorrow, so if you see them, just leave them be."

"That's fine," Creius says. He wants to ask why, but he knows that Name Day won't tell him anything more while Yermolai is in the room. Tact is not Yermolai's strong point, and considering what Creius has seen of Medicine Pocket's extremely short fuse, giving his subordinate the fuel to set it ablaze isn't something he's keen on doing.

Yermolai stands then, and stretches, "well, I'll be off then. You two enjoy your cosy day together."

And then he was gone, shutting the door quietly behind him.

Creius waits a few seconds before asking, "your friends are alright?"

Name Day blinks, confusion crossing his face for just a second before he nods, "Pointer calms down pretty quick so she was fine the moment Enigma stepped in. Medicine Pocket on the other hand…" he trails off with a sigh before curling into Creius' side and throwing an arm across his waist, "they weren't really having a good day to begin with, so they just riled themself up even more."

"And are you okay?" Creius asks, carefully rolling onto his side so that he can pull Name Day close to him. His joints twinge at the movement, but the pain is easily ignored.

"Me?" Name Day seems surprised at the question, "I'm fine. Just… tired…"

Name Day's words are interrupted by a yawn, and Creius cups his cheek, leaning in to kiss his forehead gently. "Rest then. The doctor isn't coming until later, so we can rest together."

"Sounds good…" Name Day murmurs quietly and shuffles closer.

Creius smiles and curls around his love a little before closing his own eyes and chasing after sleep.

Creius knew that getting better wasn't something he could rush, but as he struggles to do a singular lap around his room, chest heaving and sweat across his brow from the exertion, he wishes his recovery would go just that little bit faster. He's just glad that Marsha is the only one in the room, having offered her help with the exercises he's been given to do on the daily. She's calm and patient when he gets frustrated at himself, and doesn't let up when he tries to stop before he's finished. They both know that if he doesn't finish them, he just won't; the exhaustion they leave behind is far worse than anything he's felt before, and that's saying something.

It's not like the exercises are even hard; they're designed to help him regain the strength he's lost, but right now they just feel impossible.

"We're done," Marsha says, warm smile on her face as she helps him to sit on the edge of the breath.

Creius breathes deep, eyes closing as he fights the urge to just collapse back into his bed. He needs to shower now, another thing that's become difficult, but it can wait until he's caught his breath at least. He remembers far too late that he hasn't thanked Marsha yet and opens his eyes again, "thank you for helping."

Marsha waves away his thanks, "I'm happy to help, sir. It's what I was trained to do after all, I'm just glad to see you on the mend. How long before you get discharged completely?"

"They want to see me regain some weight before they leave me to my own devices," Creius says, remembering the doctors words from earlier that morning. Gain some weight, get stronger, walk without assistance, eat at least two full meals a day.

Simple enough requests to follow in his eyes, this had been his first attempt.

Well, that's a lie, his first attempt had been just before Marsha walked into his room, in time to watch his legs give out from underneath him. His knee is still throbbing from where it struck the hard floor.

"Sounds easy enough, what about afterwards?" Marsha asks.

Creius shrugs, "the same, but they I have to pass a fitness test before they'll allow me back on active duty."

Another fair request, a finish line even, but one so far away that he can't even see it on the horizon.

"Considering your injuries, a short stay is a welcome one." Marsha says taking a seat in the chair that Name Day usually occupies. "Where is Name Day anyway? It's rare to see him away from your bedside these days."

Creius can't help but glance towards the door, as if speaking of the man will summon him. "He's speaking with Madam Z about returning to work."

The look Marsha gives him tells him exactly what she thinks of the idea and he's glad they're on the same page about it. He hadn't been overly keen on letting Name Day go to that meeting, but Name Day had assured him everything would be fine and promised to return soon. That'd been several hours ago.

"The pressure is coming from above, so I've heard. They are insisting he return to the Far East Branch. Which worries me—it worries his friends too," Creius says, admitting the words carefully. Marsha hasn't known Name Day as long as the rest of them, and she's only come to know him after he and Creius started seeing each other, so there are things she's not aware of, yet there's careful contemplation on her face.

"I'm sure he'll be fine," Marsha says in the end, a small smile on her face, "he's got you and his friends in Laplace, and I we're all fond of him, so he's got us too."

It reassures Creius to hear that, and he knows his unit will look out for Name Day while he cannot. He makes a note to thank them by doing something nice once he returns to duty; perhaps a light training session rather than an intensive one? But before he can say as such, his door opens quietly and Name Day slips into the room silently. Creius immediately notices that something is wrong and gives Marsha a look.

She nods and stands, freeing the chair up for Name Day and tells him she'll come by when she next gets time and leaves just as Name Day reaches the edge of the bed.

Creius is quiet and observes Name Day carefully. His eyes are red-rimmed but it doesn't look as if he's been crying, but the way he fidgets with the hem of his shirt tells Creius that Name Day's not far from it. He narrows his gaze, "did it not go well?"

"Hm?" Name Day looks at him, confusion in his eyes.

"Your meeting with Madam Z." When the confusion grew, Creius elaborates, "I heard about it from the staff."

"Oh, well, I am on leave still, so that is fine," Name Day sits in the chair and draws his knees to his chest. He pulls his knife out of its sheathe and begins to twirl it between his fingers.

Creius knows the blade is blunt right now, but he still can't stop the spike of alarm that runs through him. He squashes it down for now, focusing on trying to understand what's upset his love. "Then what is wrong?"

Name Day sighs and drops his head over the arm of the chair. His hands still the knife. "She asked if I was handling things alright. Just a simple question and yet…" He trails off with a shrug, but Creius understands what he can't say.

"A bad day, then?"

"Just a bit." Name Day says and then snaps upright, "I'm fine, though! You don't need to worry—"

"Name Day." Creius interrupts before Name Day gets lost in his mind. He extends his hand out and smiles when Name Day grabs it, the warmth of their touch reassuring the other. He watches the tension seep out of Name Day's form and gives his hand a squeeze. "You are allowed to have a bad day."

Name Day just smiles up at him and his cheeks start to turn red. He pulls his hand free and clears his throat, "so how did your exercises go?"

Creius groans at the reminder and runs a hand through damp hair. He really needs to shower before it dries and he just feels gross. "I feel as if I ran a marathon. I need to shower, but standing is… a lot."

"I can give you a hand." Name Day says without hesitation.

"You could always join me?" Creius suggests and then pauses, mind catching up to what he just said. Across from him, the red on Name Day's cheeks spreads, running down his neck and across the rest of his face. Creius is pretty sure that his own face is burning and he just hopes he's not as red as his hair.

To think that a week ago they were saying their first I love you's to each other and here they were now, both blushing because Creius' mouth had moved faster than his mind.

"I… can…?" Name Day says slowly, and he looks as if he's not quite sure what he heard. His brow furrows before it smooths over a second later and a calm look that Creius doesn't like is put on.

He didn't like it when Name Day shut away from him, and he knows it's because the man is overthinking in that mind of his and coming to a conclusion so obviously wrong, so Creius forces his legs to support him as he stands and reaches for Name Day.

"Creius!" Name Day exclaims, leaping to his feet and grabbing onto his arms, supporting him as his legs shook like a newborn foal. "You need to sit down!"

"I will, but first—" Creius cups Name Day's cheek and leans in to claim a quick kiss, "—stop thinking so hard."

Conflict dances behind Name Day's eyes before he gives a tired smile. "I can try."

"Trying is good," Creius says and squeezes his hands where they're wrapped around Name Day's forearms. Is it his hands trembling or Name Day's? He can't tell. "The… join me might've been a little impulsive, but I still meant it. And even if you don't wish to," Creius glances away, more embarrassed about admitting to needing help than anything else, "I do require help. And I'd rather you than one of the staff."

"Okay." Name Day's smile turns genuine then and together they shuffle over towards the bathroom.

It's exhausting to walk just those few steps, and by the time they get in and shut the door behind them, Creius is scowling from being tired once again. Maybe a shower could've waited until later. Name Day deposits him on the seat of the toilet, letting him lean against the wall as he disappears to go get everything they'll need. He isn't gone long before he returns, towels in hand, soap, and fresh clothes.

"The staff insist that you not walk to bed once we're done," he says, placing the items within reach but well out range of the shower spray. He points to a button against the wall, "and if we require assistance, I was told to push that button. It will call someone."

"It's just a shower." Creius grumbles and begins to undress. His arms are like lead, but he manages to pull his shirt off and tosses it into the corner.

Another good thing about the recovery ward; he'd been allowed to ditch the god awful gown patients wore and wear something much more comfortable.

The only downside is that now that he's sitting, he can't get up to get his pants off. But then Name Day is there, hooking his hands under Creius' arms and lifting him just enough that he can get them off. "Thanks," Creius says, grateful, and the pants join the shirt.

He notices then that Name Day is staring at him, gaze slightly vacant, and Creius realises that this might be the first time that his love has seen his newest scars in their entirety. Creius doesn't remember the arcane skill that was used against him. He only remembers the pain of his skin splitting open, the agony as the skill cut deep into him. "Name Day."

The man jerks, blinking as he looks to Creius. There's pain in his eyes, and the beginning of tears forming. "I—" Name Day cuts himself off and shakes his head, blinking away the tears before they can fall. He clears his throat, "do you need help getting to the shower?"

Creius is silent a moment, debating whether or not he should bring up what he just saw, but decides against it. If he pushes too hard, Name Day might flee, or shut him out completely. "I can manage. Are you going to join me?"

Name Day hesitates then nods and turns away from Creius to undress himself. Despite the fact that they're about to see each other naked for the first time, Creius gives him that privacy and eases himself onto the floor of the bathroom before dragging himself over to the shower. Is it more tiring than standing and walking? Absolutely. But is it a safer fall should his body have enough of him? Very much so.

Creius reaches for the taps and turns on the shower, waiting for the water to warm before he slips underneath its spray and leans against the wall, sighing as the warmth reaches aches he hadn't even noticed. He glances over to see Name Day shrugging off his pants, and finds himself staring.

Name Day is beautiful of course, he always is no matter the state Creius sees him in, but he's never realised how much is hidden underneath the layers that Name Day always wears—not that he can talk when he wears so many layers himself usually. There's the scar on his knee, that twinges and aches when the weather changes suddenly, from when Name Day got hurt that one time before they started seeing each other. Then there's the scar extending from bicep to collarbone on his right side, the injury he'd sustained in the incident before Creius had managed to protect him. But the one that piques his curiosity is the strange scar that extends from Name Day's elbow to his shoulder on his left side. It doesn't look like the kind of scarring that comes froma knife wound, nor does it look like a burn, but it looks to be the oldest scar Name Day has.

Creius doesn't ask and he looks away before Name Day can catch him staring. He won't ask. He wants to, but he won't. They all have scars and as he and Name Day shared with each other once before, some of those scars hold painful stories.

He hears Name Day step over to him and sit beside him underneath the water's spray, and then there's a weight against him as Name Day leans into his side. Creius offers a hand without much thought and smiles when Name Day takes it and twines their fingers together. Together they just sit for a time, leaning on each other. Creius lets his eyes fall shut, listening to the water and also to Name Day's gentle breaths as he drops his head on top of Name Day's own. He feels his hand move, clasped between two slender hands that tremble slightly. Creius opens his eyes again and gives a gentle squeeze, but doesn't say anything otherwise.

After a moment, Name Day pulls away from him, "do you need a hand with washing?"

Despite the embarrassment that comes from the question, Creius ignores it and shakes his head, "I can manage. Although standing is not happening."

Name Day chuckles, "that is what's good about these showers. There's enough room to sit and clean."

Soap is passed over to him and Creius washes himself with methodically and quickly like all trained soldiers do. In the heat of battle, one may only have a few seconds to clean, and even though he knows he's not in the midst of battle, he still can't help but follow what he was once taught. Name Day on the other hand takes his time, but that might just be because of how he's feeling rather than any urgency. Creius remembers being told once of the cold climate and the tent his love once lived in with his siblings, and while he knows some people enjoy the frigid baths that ice water provides, Name Day was not one of those people. He watches as he scrubs at his own hair, grown out and hanging uncomfortably about his face and neck, as Name Day runs his fingers through his own much longer hair.

Creius is so used to seeing it tied in a ponytail that seeing it loose and falling over Name Day's shoulders sets his heart beating just that little bit faster.

They finish up after a few minutes, and Creius feels cleaner than he did before, and then colder as the water is turned off. Name Day helps him up to sit on the toilet seat and towels Creius' hair dry before tackling his own. Creius tries to focus on drying and dressing himself, but his eyes keep drifting towards Name Day. He tears them away just as Name Day starts to braid his hair and finally pulls on his shirt.

Which then brings the next problem.

He can't stand.

He tries, but his legs have decided he's done enough for today and refuse to support him, leaving him stuck until he can be helped. Embarrassment burns through him, and he glares at the wall to avoid turning such a face onto his love. But Name Day doesn't say anything, just kisses his brow and disappears to get the wheelchair. He does manage to get himself back into bed though, and as if he were struck by a train, sleep comes for him, dragging him down in its clutches. Part of him is almost certain that he managed to mumble something about Name Day joining him, but he can't be sure.

He thinks he feels a weight beside him on the bed though.

Three weeks after waking from his coma, Creius is well and truly sick of the recovery ward. The exercises he is given are going well, and day by day, his stamina increases until he's able to start venturing outside his room to lap the hall. His strength is slower to return, and his body still struggles at times with it, but as the people treating him said, strength takes time. One would think that with so much progress, he'd finally be free to recover in the comfort of his own room, but no. As it turns out, his body hates him and refuses to put on the weight he lost. It's not his fault, he tells himself, if the food isn't enough to sustain him, knowing full well that it is and that he's just denying the fact that he can't keep what he eats down for long.

Marsha takes a look at him, uses her skill on him even, and still, eating is a struggle. The other arcane healers try as well to no avail, and Creius is left feeling a bit like a lab rat; under the scrutiny of so many eyes yet unable to provide the answers the medical staff seek.

It's not that he's losing the weight either—well, sometimes he does when what he eats comes back up after a couple of hours—it's just that he's not gaining it, and considering the coma's already left him underweight, he understands the concern. It doesn't mean it doesn't irritate him.

And what's not helping is Name Day's growing worry.

His love is a less frequent visitor now, having been forced back into work, but thanks to Madam Z, he's been allowed to stay in the main branch rather than be sent back to the Far East Branch; of course, Creius still wakes up to Name Day curled up in the chair beside his bed, or sometimes in the bed with him.

"You know, I'm almost thinking you enjoy spending all your time here," Yermolai teases him halfway through the third week, sitting crosslegged on Creius' bed, allowing himself to be used as part of a strength exercise.

Creius scowls as he pushes against Yermolai's open palms with his own, teeth clenched at the resistance he feels. If he were back to normal already, he'd be able to shove his subordinate off the bed. "I'll happily swap places with you if you want."

"No thanks," Yermolai says quickly and then adds on, "at least they gave you a haircut since we last saw you."

"Merel did. She offered when she saw it bothering me." Creius says, switching from pushing to pulling instead. Yermolai leans his entire weight back, and Creius' arms tremble under the strain.

But it's less than the last time they did this so he considers it a win.

"Merel did?" Yermolai says at the same time as Paravyan speaks.

"Have they figured out what's wrong yet?" the younger man asks, watching them both.

"Tests say I'm healthy," Creius says and glances at Marsha who nods her agreement, "they think it's just a side effect of being fed through an IV for so long, that it'll wear off in time."

"In time, he says, when it's been almost a month since he's been awake." Yermolai scoffs and Creius lets go suddenly and the man yelps as he tumbles off the bed. "Hey! It's not like it's a lie is it?"

"I'm sure Creius is well aware of how long he's been here, Yermolai." Paravyan says, rolling his eyes. "I'm surprised you haven't tried to just leave, sir."

Creius' silence said everything.

Yermolai burst into laughter from the floor, "how far did you get?"

"To the elevator," Creius says and motions for Paravyan to take Yermolai's place on the bed. The young man does and Creius resumes his pushing and pulling again. "Name Day happened to return then and since I was not expecting him, I lost my balance. I haven't tried again yet."

"Yet." Paravyan grins as he pushes against Creius' hands with his entire weight. "So you intend to get out of here?"

"The second they figure out why I can't eat and fix it, I am leaving. I need to catch up with what's been going on. Has Manus Vindictae been causing any problems?"

"They've been unusually quiet as of late," Marsha informs him, "the Foundation has the Timekeeper investigating potential Manus activity, but Vertin hasn't found anything that requires further action. She said she'd keep us updated though, and also to wish you a speedy recovery."

Creius can't help but smile at that. Vertin's a sweet girl, kind and willing to give almost anyone the benefit of the doubt, and it warms him to know she cares enough to wish him well. "That's good. And you are all keeping up with drills still?"

"Of course we are." Yermolai scoffs and finally gets up off the floor to take Paravyan's former seat. "Perhaps we can do a drill where we kidnap you—you can say it's a stealth mission."

"You and stealth do not go in the same sentence." Paravyan says, lip quirking into a smirk. "They'd hear you coming before you even got near the building."

"Is that a challenge?"

Creius decides to interrupt before his subordinates start causing problems for the staff. "I don't mind you doing a stealth exercise, but not here. I'm not the only patient." Both Yermolai and Paravyan begin to pout and Creius sighs, "I'm usually allowed to leave for an hour or two some days, I'll come and watch a drill session the next time I can."

"No one tell Merel." Yermolai says with a teasing grin on his face that disappears when Marsha cuffs him over the head, "hey! What was that for?"

"Stop teasing her, she's been trying." Marsha scolds and then frowns, her attention turning towards the door.

Creius follows her gaze to see a yellow eye peering into the room, framed by white and brown. He blinks and raises a brow at Medicine Pocket who only clicks their tongue and vanishes from sight. They haven't gone far, if the tapping foot and impatient grumbles are anything to go by.

Paravyan looks from the door to Creius and then back at the door, "who is that…?"

"Medicine Pocket." Creius says only a little concerned what's brought the researcher all the way here. "They might be looking for Name Day, can you give us a minute?"

His unit nods and files out of the room without question, all of them ignoring the researcher that waits for them to leave before storming into the room. Creius swears he can see steam coming from their ears and keeps his mouth shut. Medicine Pocket on a good day is hard enough to deal with; Medicine Pocket on a bad day is nigh impossible.

The young researcher stares at him, almost glaring and Creius just raises a brow at them. "Name Day isn't here."

"I know that!" Medicine Pocket snaps and then throws themself into the empty chair, crossing their arms. They continue to study him for a time before they sigh and huff, "you look like shit."

Creius doesn't want to dignify that with a response, but Medicine Pocket is clearly waiting for a reply. "I am aware."

"You shouldn't be looking like corpse. I'm not even a doctor and I know that."

"I do not look like a corpse," Creius grumbles, a little offended at that. He's underweight, he knows that, but he's not skeletal.

Medicine Pocket is suddenly closer, leaping onto the bed to sit in front of him and Creius leans back to avoid the sudden proximity with them. "I can see your cheeks and I'm sure if you stripped right now that we'd be able to count each rib. So congratulations Mr Corpse Man, you've ended up with little old me to try and figure out what's wrong with you."

Part of Creius hopes that Medicine Pocket is only doing this because Name Day asked them, but part of him believes that's not the case. He closes his eyes and takes a slow breath, summoning all the patience he has. This is Name Day's friend, he tells himself, they're just a little… eccentric. "If you can figure out what's wrong then go ahead."

"Ugh, why are you all so stupid." As quick as they'd come, Medicine Pocket is back in the chair, chewing harshly on the end of a pen. "It's all oh Medicine Pocket, can you take a look at this case and please Medicine Pocket, help us figure it out. Stupid! All of them! They all seem to think I do nothing but stare at reports all day!"

Creius wisely stays silent, lest he get lumped in with all the other stupid people Medicine Pocket has dealt with.

"I'm only here 'cause Name Day's stressing himself out over it—" so it was Name Day that had brought Medicine Pocket here, "—not that he'll tell you he's stressed but it's so damn obvious."

"How is he?"

His question stops Medicine Pocket in their tirade and they blink, the slightest bit of confusion dancing across their face before the smile widely at him; it's the most menacing smile that Creius has ever seen. "Haven't seen your lover today? Well too bad, neither have I. I saw him before he left. Enough about that, I have other things I need to be doing so just tell me what they've done already."

Creius does, reporting the use of arcanist healers on him, followed by every test imagineable when the arcane skills did nothing. He tells Medicine Pocket what's been observed, how he's not gaining weight, but he's not losing it either, and also how he can't keep food down for very long. Medicine Pocket nods along until he finishes speaking and then kicks their feet up onto the edge of the bed.

"Have they opened you back up?"

Creius frowns, thinking carefully, before he shakes his head.

Medicine Pocket slaps a hand against their face, "honestly, the Foundation needs better medical staff. Do they know that Name Day healed you before they got their hands on you?"

"I would have to ask Marsha, she was there, as were you."

"If you think I want to talk with the Foundation's doctors, you need to almost die again." Medicine Pocket says. "Tell your doctors what Name Day's skill does. He's not a healer, he just fixes what's broken even if it's not in the right place."

Creius nods and before he can say anything, Medicine Pocket is leaving. It stuns him a little, but only for a split second when he calls out, "Medicine Pocket."

The researcher freezes but doesn't turn back to face him.

"Are you okay?" Creius asks.

Slowly they turn their head to look back at him, an unreadable look on their face. They stare at him, eyes narrowing slightly before they give a sharp nod. "I'm fine. Thanks."

And then they're gone, the door swinging shut behind them.

That evening, Creius tells the doctor treating him about Name Day's skill and tentatively tells them what Medicine Pocket thought about it. To his surprise, the doctor is nodding along, taking his words at face value. They don't have the equipment necessary to diagnose whether something's healed wrong, the doctor says, but what they can do is open him up for an exploratory surgery to see if anything's wrong and if there is, they can fix it. Creius isn't keen on the idea. Surgery isn't something he enjoys—well, no one enjoys being cut open really—but if it'll help him, then perhaps it might not be such a bad thing.

So, he agrees to it, on the condition that someone fetch Name Day from wherever he is, and that Marsha is also in the room to observe, and when the doctor concedes, the surgery is scheduled for the next day.

Name Day returns the next day, slipping into the room before Creius is awake, and he blinks in surprise when he does wake. His love isn't looking at him, but there's a misery on his face that Creius realises might be his own doing and sits up quickly, determined to fix it. "Name Day?"

"Is it my fault?" Name Day asks quietly.

The word comes quick without hesitation, "no."

"They say my skill might have fixed something wrong."

"Your skill is the only reason I'm still alive," Creius says gently and then adds, "if it was your skill that caused this, it won't change how grateful I am to you for using it."

His words ease some of the tension in Name Day's body and he lets out a breath before giving Creius a tiny smile. It does nothing the ease the concern bubbling within him, but he returns it all the same.

Before long, he's being taken back to the surgical ward, Marsha striding beside him and Creius catches her attention by clearing his throat. He motions for her to lean in and she does, a frown on her face.

"Is Paravyan available?"

"I think so, what do you want him to do?" Marsha asks.

"Tell him to sit with Name Day and not leave him alone. If he's not available, see if Hissabeth can."

There's a hint of worry in Marsha's face now and she nods, "I'll pass the message on."

Creius nods. It's a weight off his chest to know that Name Day will have someone with him. He won't admit it to anyone, but it worries him that his love seems intent on taking the blame for this complication and knowing how easy it is for Name Day to get lost in his own head, the last thing he wants is for him to be alone while Creius is getting cut open.

All he can think about as he goes under is whether this surgery will fix the worry or make it worse.

When Creius wakes again several hours later, he feels both as light as a feather and as heavy as an anchor. It's quite a peculiar feeling, and he finds it nauseating to keep his eyes open for too long so he just doesn't open them. He can hear the beeping of a machine, steady and calm if only a little bit loud and quiet words that his ears refuse to register. He recognises the voice, however and breathes at knowing Name Day is beside him. If he had the strength to smile, he would, but sleep is coming for him again and he lets it claim him.

The next time he wakes, he's a bit more aware of his surroundings, and although he still feels weighted down, it's better than it had been and his eyes blink open slowly. The room is dimmed and quiet, telling him it must be late at night now, but surprisingly, he's not the only one awake. A second chair has been dragged into the room and Hissabeth sits in it, Name Day's head on her shoulder as he slumbers. Her eyes meet his and she smiles, but doesn't move. Her snakes do though, rising up to flick their tongues at him, and Creius gives them a nod. They seem to approve of that and settle down again.

"What time is it?" Creius asks quietly.

"Just after midnight. Marsha just left to go rest but she told me what to say if you woke up before morning. If you'd like the doctors words now, of course. You can always wait until morning otherwise."

Creius manages to shake his head. "Now is fine."

"I'm no biological master, so excuse the simpleness," Hissabeth starts off with, "but they found a problem with your digestive organs. They suspect that in the… incident, that you sustained damage that Name Day healed and that's why eating has been a bit unpleasant for you."

A bit is an understatement.

"It's fixed now?" Creius presses, words cautious, question free of blame. Had they managed to fix the damage or was he resigned to getting nutrition another way?

Hissabeth nods. "You won't be able to eat for a couple of weeks, they put a line in," she pats her collarbone and Creius becomes aware of the discomfort in that part of his own body, "so you won't be malnourished or anything. Medicine Pocket came down for that part, since they understand that stuff better than most people. The plan is to let your organs heal, and then slowly reintroduce food to you."

It's a solid plan and Creius approves of it, even though he's not keen on spending even longer in the recovery ward. "Thank you," he says and tilts his head towards Name Day, "how is he?"

"Oh, you know, he had a bit of a cry earlier," Hissabeth says and reaches up with a hand to brush some hair out of Name Day's face, revealing fading blotchy skin. "He blames himself for it. I tried to tell him it wasn't his fault, but I don't think he believed me. That'll be your job, I'm afraid."

"I tried to tell him before the surgery," Creius murmurs.

"Then tell him again." Hissabeth says as if it was just that easy. She gives him a stern look at seeing the doubt on his face, "I mean it, Creius, you are going to have to tell him a few times, or he's going to spiral and picking up those pieces isn't easy, I'll tell you now."

Creius nods, his brow furrowing a moment later, "is he on leave or is the Foundation expecting him back to work soon?"

"I know Enigma's given him time from Laplace, but I'd have to ask one of the Foundation staff about their decision."

"Can you do me a favour then?" Creius asks, an idea coming together slowly as much as he'd prefer to not interact with someone he doesn't trust. But as much as he doesn't trust this person, Name Day does, if only because she's helped him over the years.

Hissabeth nods and waits for him to speak.

"Can you keep him busy tomorrow? And tell Madam Z that I'd like to speak with her."

Hissabeth gains a thoughtful look and slowly nods, "I can do that. I'm working on something new with Pointer, so I can say we need Name Day's help. I can't guarantee the Madam Z part, I don't usually speak with her, but if I can't, Enigma can."

"Thank you," Creius says and then goes back to sleep, just that brief conversation sapping all his energy.

In the morning, both Hissabeth and Name Day are gone, but there's a little wooden carving resting on the chair his love usually sits on and he smiles, reaching for it and regretting it immediately when it tugs painfully at his abdomen. He resigns to just leave the little figure there for now and just stares at the ceiling. Since he can't move, it's not like he can do anything else. He's not sure how much time passes before there's a knock at his door. Creius calls out a quiet come in and watches as Madam Z steps through the door. What surprises him is when Enigma follows her through the door.

"Enigma, sir," Creius greets, shuffling up the bed a little to be more respectful, "Madam Z."

"Creius," Madam Z inclines her head towards him and gestures towards one of the chairs, "may I?"

Creius nods and Madam Z takes a seat. Enigma remains by the door, leaning against the wall with his arms across his chest. He takes a few seconds to study both of them; he hadn't interacted with Enigma much, the man's nature as a hermit hasn't change since becoming the leader of Laplace, and he doesn't trust Madam Z if only because she answers to Constantine and that is someone he refuses to trust. But this isn't about him, not today, so he forces any misgivings aside to focus on why he called for her in the first place. "You need to put Name Day on leave again."

If Madam Z is surprised by his words, she doesn't give it away, but her eyes that was slightly cautious turns serious. "I have been meaning to check in on him, is he not doing well?"

"You could say that." Creius isn't willing to betray Name Day's feelings without him in the room, so he hopes his words are enough to get the point across.

They are, for Madam Z nods, but she gains a weary look that worries him. "I am more than willing to give him the time he needs, however the Far East Branch is starting to become… a problem. They are demanding their best investigator return to them, and the people above me are starting to question why Name Day has been allowed to remain here for so long."

"Do they not know?" Creius asks, a frown on his face. Surely the Foundation isn't so ignorant as to realise that it's because of him that Name Day remains where he is.

Madam Z gives him a smile, "what you and Name Day share is your business and yours alone, Creius, I only know because Name Day has told me, but those equal and above me are not aware of your relationship."

Creius throws a sharp glance in Enigma's direction and the man sighs, lifting a hand to drag it down his face.

"I don't care so long as it doesn't bother me," the man grumbles which is about as supportive as he'll get, Creius knows.

Well, the Foundation not knowing the true reason throws a bit of a kink in his plans to give Name Day time to deal with his emotions and Creius admittedly doesn't actually know what to do next. He knows Madam Z can push for more leave, but that will also raise questions—questions that might bring unwanted scrutiny down upon the both of them and wind up doing more harm than good.

In the end it's Enigma that comes to the rescue, the man stepping forward with a sigh.

"Name Day already works for us part-time, I can file the paperwork to make it full-time which means the Foundation can't use him for work if they approve it," Enigma says, giving Madam Z a look, indicating that if he does this, she better approve it. "He can be Medicine Pocket's assistant or whatever, since I know the Foundation is looking for a reason to get them to stop barging into their offices demanding funding, and they listen to Name Day… sometimes. But that's all I can offer."

"Bring me the paperwork, Enigma, and I'll sign it," Madam Z says and turns her attention back to Creius, "is that acceptable?"

Creius keeps his eyes on Enigma, "and if he can't work?"

Enigma raises a brow at him, "I'm not cruel, Creius, if he can't work, I'm not going to make him. For all the arguments and disagreements we have, if someone's not doing well, we do try to help if we can. We aren't the Foundation."

It's a dig at Madam Z and Creius keeps the smile off his face as she scowls at Enigma, but doesn.

"Thank you both," he says and thankfully, both of them are quick to leave him be, and a breath escapes him the moment the door is shut. Well that went well.

Creius doesn't see Name Day in the days following his surgery. Word reaches him that he's helping Windsong with some research, so he lets go of his worry before it can take hold and spends the time resting and healing. He doesn't appreciate being forced out of bed by the staff treating him and made to walk about, but apparently it's necessary to avoid complications. Soon enough he's back in his room in the recovery ward and hopefully this time, he actually recovers properly. His unit stops by that first day—Merel too, which surprises him—and update him on what he's missed since his surgery, and he tells them they've done well, and to keep up the good work. Soon he'll be back with them, and things can begin to return to normal.

By this point, it's been just over a month since his coma, well over two months since he'd last set foot outside the medical centre, and Creius is just tired, both mentally and physically. He still doesn't regret the actions that led him here, he remains firm in that belief, he just wishes that his injuries hadn't been so serious.

He wishes that his near death hadn't affected Name Day so terribly.

Which is why he's not surprised when Paravyan steps through his door towards the end of the week, a collected calm about him and says simply, "Name Day collapsed."

Creius doesn't hesitate, he's already swinging his legs over the edge of the bed, "take me to him."

Paravyan does, moving swiftly through the halls, pushing Creius in front of him until they arrive at one of the treatment rooms. He can hear voices from within, one of them Name Day's, and relief fills him that his love hadn't been down for too long.

Inside the room, Name Day is on a bed, leaning back against several pillows and doesn't seem to be paying any attention as Windsong scolds him for not looking after himself properly. Creius remains quiet, letting Windsong continue to talk as he took in the situation. Name Day looked gaunt, bags under his eyes so dark that they made his eyes shine—and not in a good way. Creius was thrown back to that first week when Mesmer Jr had told him that Name Day hadn't been sleeping well. Was that still true, even now? His eyes fell to Name Day's hands where they trembled lightly, fingers scratching at the scars on his wrist.

Not good, Creius tells himself, realising quickly that they've gone from prevention to damage control. He glances at Paravyan who pushes him further into the room, and all eyes turn towards him. Name Day looks at him with pain in his eyes and quickly diverts his gaze, whereas Windsong looks relieved to see him. It's then that Creius notices the looming figure of Enigma in the corner who spares him a quick glance before he pushes off the wall.

"You'll be kept for observation until tomorrow. I expect you to rest, and to see me before you even think of taking on another job." Enigma says, his tone forcing Name Day to look at him.

"Yes, sir." Name Day murmurs and Enigma nods, turns, and leaves, slipping past Creius and Paravyan like they aren't even there.

Paravyan clears his throat quietly, "I can wait outside if you need me, sir."

"I'll manage, Paravyan, thanks." Creius says and his subordinate steps out of the room. He keeps quiet as Windsong murmurs something he doesn't quite catch before following and Creius grits his teeth as he rolls over to the bed. In hindsight, he could've at least asked to be put beside it, but thankfully his abdomen doesn't cause him too much pain. What pain he does feel, he ignores as he rises from the chair and gives Name Day a nudge, "move over."

It takes Name Day a few seconds to realise what he's asking before he shifts over to the edge of the bed. Like all medical centre beds, it's certainly not made for two people, but regardless, Creius eases himself onto it and stretches out beside Name Day. And just like he did in the shower, he offers his hand without a word, and he can't deny the relief that fills him when Name Day takes it. Creius hears a sharp intake of breath beside him and risks a glance, and squeezes Name Day's hand when he spots the tears forming in his eyes. That seems to be all it takes to set Name Day off; the tears start to trail down his cheeks, even as he squeezes his eyes shut to try and stop them.

Creius let's go of Name Day's hand and instead slides his arm behind the other's back, dropping his head to rest on top of Name Day's. His love lets out a quiet sob then, and he decides in that moment, that the best thing he can do right now, is let Name Day just cry it out. There's no words he can say that'll ease whatever it is that's paining Name Day so. Perhaps all he needs right now is just a chance to let out his emotions, and to know that Creius is alive and well beside him as he does. He thinks he's made the right choice when Name Day curls into him, being mindful of his stomach and let's out a shuddering breath.

Time passes slowly for the both of them, but Creius doesn't mind, he'd stay there forever if it was what Name Day wanted.

Eventually, Name Day falls silent, and Creius waits a few moments before he speaks, keeping his voice gentle and quiet, "will you tell me what's wrong?"

Name Day stiffens and one hand clutches at his shirt in a white-knuckled grip. It takes him a few tries, but he manages to croak out, "it is all my fault."

Creius had been waiting for the words, but they still tore his heart apart to hear them. Subconsciously, he draw Name Day closer to him, "it is not."

"My skill hurt you—" Name Day breaks off as his voice cracks, "—I just wanted to save you and instead I hurt you."

"A necessary hurt, for if you hadn't, I would be dead," Creius says softly. Nobody enjoys nearly dying, but it's obvious that his near-death has affected Name Day more than it has him. Creius knows he will heal and return to duty eventually, even if it takes him longer than he thought it would, but in Name Day's mind, it must be different. He wonders momentarily, just what it is that his love sees; whatever it is, it can't be good.

Name Day sniffs and lifts a hand to wipe his eyes, but he doesn't say anything.

"Tell me what's on your mind," Creius says, pressing his lips to the top of Name Day's head, hoping the affection will help to soothe him.

"Your death." The words come quick, blunt, and in a voice devoid of emotion. Creius opens his mouth, but Name Day continues on, "I close my eyes and see you dead. I see my hands bloodied because I could not save you, and I see my life without yet another person I care for."

Creius hums, acknowledging the words, "I am alive, though."

"Yes," Name Day says, "you are alive. But you nearly weren't, and it was because you protected me. If you hadn't then—"

Creius interrupts before the what if can be finished and speaks the truth, "then we'd both be dead."

Name Day flinches, eyes squeezing shut, and Creius presses on,

"I don't regret my decision that day, Name Day, so don't regret it for me." Creius says lifting a hand to turn Name Day's face up towards his. He tries to keep his face gentle, his voice soft, as he continues, "I knew that by keeping you safe, that we would both get out of it. Did I expect to become comatose? No, I don't think anyone does, but out of the two of us, you surviving would keep us both alive."

"So it was because I was useful then?" Name Day asks, bitterness creeping into his tone.

Creius curses his poor choice of words, even if there was a bit of truth to them. He had protected Name Day knowing that doing so would save them both, but most of that had also been instinct. He hadn't wanted to see Name Day hurt, hadn't wanted to see him broken and bleeding. If he'd been paying more attention to his surroundings that day, then perhaps he could've protected them both—or killed the attackers before they even got their first shot off. He sighs and drops his head to the top of Name Day's, "I didn't say that right, I'm sorry."

Name Day hums, but the tension Creius can feel tells him he's messed up and made things worse. But then he relaxes and lets out a sigh of his own, "you don't really have the grace of words when it comes to things like this, do you?"

"Not really," Creius huffs a laugh, "I didn't mean to make it sound like you were one of the people under me, because you aren't. I am sorry if I hurt you with what I said—I don't really remember what went through my head that day, but I knew that if it was me or you that had to get hurt, I wanted it to be me. And yet, if I had been more aware, then perhaps neither of us would be in this situation."

For a time, Name Day is silent, but then he turns his head into Creius' neck, hair tickling his jaw, and Creius feels he's been forgiven for his misstep. "I did not mean to snap, I am… struggling."

It's an obvious thing to say, anyone that knows Name Day well can see he's not coping at all. Creius notices him start to scratch his wrist again and quickly grabs the hand, holding it firm in his own. Name Day tilts his head up, and Creius squeezes his hand, "you don't have to struggle alone. I'm here."

"You have your own struggles," Name Day protests.

"I can struggle and still care for you. After all, is that not what you're doing for me?" Creius says and he watches as the words sink in and Name Day smiles.

"I suppose it is," Name Day says and pauses for just a second, "perhaps… once you recover, we can try and do something nice… together."

Creius hums, "are you asking me out on a date, Mr Name Day?"

The way that Name Day's cheeks turn red in an instant is both sweet and amusing. Name Day sees his smile and pouts good naturedly, "maybe I am. Our last one didn't go so well after all."

"This time we'll go somewhere away from the Foundation." Creius promises. "Somewhere pretty and quiet, like when you showed me the aurora that one time."

"I know some places," Name Day says and leans up to kiss his cheek. "Perks of being an investigator, you know."

It's a promise and Creius, rather than answering, just holds Name Day that little bit closer. They'll get through this, he surmises, no matter how long it takes and no matter how much pressure comes from above.

Because he loves the man curled up next to him, and will hold onto those feelings for as long as he draws breath.