#past abuse
Next
…
He woke up slowly. It felt like swimming through a fog, his limbs heavy, and every part of him aching, but finally he managed to reach the surface and blink open his eyes, confused for a moment why it was so dark, before he registered the soft fabric pressing against his head. That’s right, he’d flopped face down onto the couch. Evidently, he’d been so out of it he hadn’t shifted at all in his sleep, which was… unusual.
Because usually his “sleep” wasn’t all that restful to begin with.
Then he registered the soft humming coming from the kitchen, and the tension he wasn’t even aware of having leaked out of his shoulders, his breath coming easier at the simple sound that broadcast Patton’s presence to the ship. He managed to sit up, yawning and stretching until his shoulders popped, feeling immensely better than he had been as he stood, shuffling his way into the kitchen, keeping a blanket wrapped around his shoulders. He tried to talk, but his voice came out as a dry croak. Still, that got Patton’s attention, who spun around, face lighting up, before creasing with worry.
“Kiddo? You ok?” He swallowed hard, clearing his throat, not managing to speak, instead instantly bursting into tears, Patton’s eyes going wide. “Virgil!” Patton chirped in alarm, pulling him into a seat at the table, hopping onto the table himself, to be at Virgil’s eye level, not that he could currently meet his eyes. Virgil’s arms were resting on the table, his head buried against them, shoulders shaking from the force of his sobs. He didn’t know what to do, besides run his little paws through Virgil’s hair, cooing softly.
“S-orry… I don’t kn-ow why… I’m f-f-fine….” Virgil gasped out, not even crying anymore, just fighting for air.
“you’re not fine. We all know you’re not fine, Virgil. It’s ok to be not ok.” He shakes his head, finally emerging from his arms, Patton stifling a trill of alarm at how dark and… and empty, Virgil’s eyes look. The same look Virgil had given him the first time the smugglers had returned him to the cell, right before he passed out, and it scared him. “please, Virgil. Just… whatever it is, let us help you.” Patton pleaded, reaching out slowly, wiping away his tears, pressing his fluffy little forehead against Virgil’s, nuzzling against him.
“Logan says you’re not eating enough.” He started gently. “Is that right?” Hesitantly, Virgil nodded.
“yeah.” He whispers.
“ok. Why is that, kiddo?”
“I don’t… I don’t want to waste your food, your supplies. I already take up so much space and I don’t… deserve it. I don’t do anything to deserve it. T-to deserve this. I’m used to n-not eating, anyways.”
“And you aren’t sleeping enough?”
“I can’t. I… I can’t, I close my eyes, and I’m right back there, I’m there and it’s so real, and I can’t stop myself, and I h-hurt-“ He breaks off, shaking. “I hurt you. And if it’s a night you’re not w-with me, I can’t r-rest until I see you, because I know it isn’t but it feels so real, I h-have to make sure it isn’t r-real.”
“How much are you supposed to sleep and eat, in a day, Virg?” Patton asked softly, and he drew away, running his hands through his hair with a heavy sigh, leaning back and staring up at the ceiling.
“Supposed to get at least eight hours of sleep a night. And… eating probably four times what I am now. But I’m usually too anxious to eat, anyway. It just… just comes back up.” Patton made a small clicking noise, that meant worry, and Virgil flinched. “I’m sorry.” Patton shook his head, resting a hand on Virgil’s arm.
“there’s nothing to be sorry for. I wish you’d told us sooner, before it got this bad, but I understand why you didn’t. I know how hard it is, to trust us with information about yourself. I know you worry, what we could do with it, do to you. And none of us fault you for it, honey.” Virgil looked to be on the edge of tears again, as he looked back down at Patton before looking away once more.
“I want to. I… just… I’m scared, Patton.” Patton’s heart broke a little at how small Virgil sounded, his voice wavering.
“I know, Virg-“
“no, I… I’m scared because I… I still keep thinking… I… what if this isn’t real? It’s all… all just part of a new game, their last hoorah before…” He took a deep breath, shaking his head. “I know it doesn’t make sense, but I can’t stop… it’s just… like this is a dream and when I wake up, it’ll be on the table, or-.” He whispered, cutting himself off, though clearly what hadn’t been said was the worst of the possibilities, based on his face. Patton ruffled his feathers. He didn’t know what to say, what to do, how to help Virgil, and he didn’t have time, right now, to focus on whatever the human wasn’t telling him.
“I’m scared too, sometimes. It’s… it’s easier for me, cause I’ve known Logan and Roman so long, and I have you, too. I feel safe, with all of you around. But… but sometimes I can still feel their hands on my feathers, I can hear them, I need the light on, to sleep, otherwise I panic and forget where I am.”
“patton… why didn’t you say?”
“Because you have enough on your shoulders, and I have Logan and Roman to help carry the burden on my mine. You don’t need to go through this alone, Virgil. We all will help. We all want to. You just have to start letting us. Start… talking, to us, and stop trying to pretend that everything is ok, because it isn’t. Nothing is, nothing about what happened to you, or me, is ok. Do you understand that, Virgil?” Virgil’s breath hitched, and his gaze stared firmly at the floor, refusing to answer. “virgil. You didn’t deserve it. You know that, right?” He tried again, voice a squeak as Virgil again refused to look at him.
“I must have. I… why me, then? If I didn’t deserve it then…” Patton practically vibrated with indignant rage, stomping his foot in frustration, making Virgil jerk, startled eyes finally meeting his.
“You will not bad talk yourself on this ship, mister! You are kind and compassionate and wonderful! And sometimes the universe is just… just… fucked!” Virgil’s eyes widened at Patton swearing, using an earth curse word he’d muttered a couple times and had to, red faced, explain to him. “sometimes it’s just random and bad things happen to good people. And you’re a good people, Virgil. You’re one of the best people.” And Virgil was crying again, silent tears dripping down his face, and then he was folding over from the force of them, huddled into a ball on the chair, breaking again for an entirely different reason, because for the first time he was letting himself start to believe that what had happened wasn’t entirely his fault, his tears only growing as Patton stayed, though he couldn’t shake the shame and disgust at himself that coiled in his gut, because if Patton knew, if they knew what he’d had to do to survive, there was no way they would ever trust him. And he knew, he was going to have to tell them, or the guilt would eat him alive.
…
Logan was surprised, to hear voices coming from the kitchen. It was nearing the night cycle, and he’d realized he hadn’t eaten much of anything, all day, any kind of meal schedule having fallen apart with the recent ocurrances, and he hadn’t heard Roman come out of his room, yet.
He stopped when he rounded the corner, freezing for a moment, before tucking his arms carefully behind him, having promised Virgil he would only mind weave in his presence if given permission, as it unsettled him to have information about himself recorded.
Because that was, Virgil, sitting at the kitchen island, a softly steaming mug held lightly between his hands, a slight upturn to his lips as Patton chattered about everything and nothing in particular, just filling the air with words and chirps, though Virgil seemed to be following easily, having no trouble understanding the occasional words in Patton’s native tongue. He noticed, too, a plate set aside, that looked to have the remains of toast with jam and a more than half empty bowl of porridge, which is more than Virgil usually ate at a meal, in an entire day, sometimes. Especially important since he was already weakened from his illness and still very much recovering. Then he gently cleared his throat, making his presence known, not missing how Virgil flinched, jerking to look his way, relaxing mostly, not completely, upon realizing who it was.
“Virgil. It is a relief to see you up and about. I’m also glad to see Patton coaxed you into eating a decent amount.” Virgil’s cheeks reddened slightly at that, a human sign of embarrassment, and internally, Logan winced. He hadn’t meant to offend, and he couldn’t afford to lose progress.
“yeah. He’s, um, going to help. Try and get me on a normal diet, I guess. You were right, about the not eating enough or getting enough nutrient, thing. So.” Virgil shrugged, face still red, though he didn’t seem upset, and Logan relaxed.
“That is good. If you don’t mind, I would like to ask you about your normal diet back on earth, so I know better what nutrients, exactly, you’ve been lacking and the best way to go about reintroducing you to stable meals. We will have to go slowly, too much food or too much richness will only make you sick, at first.” Virgil nodded.
“I know. We learned a little about it, health and nutrition and stuff, in school. The food pyramid and all that.” Logan’s brow creased and he tilted his head, thinking.
“I am unclear what stacking food into a tower has to do with proper calorie intake.” Virgil huffed, amusement crinkling his eyes, and Logan relaxed further, chancing a small smile back. The action still felt unnatural, like he was threatening a friend, but Virgil’s own upturn of the lips banished that thought quickly.
“The… the sleep, thing, might be a problem, though. I… I don’t know how to fix that.” Virgil mumbled.
“Well, we can start with what the problem is.”
“Nightmares. Vivid ones.” Patton answered for Virgil, who had paled slightly at the mere mention of ‘problem’.
“I see. Nightmares, which are the result of your years of trauma and abuse. Do they center on any particular thing?” Virgil paled further, and Logan could see his breath coming in slightly faster gasps. “You do not need to answer, Virgil. I understand it is difficult.” Virgil took a few deep breaths in and out, though his hands gripped the edge of the table hard.
“It’s ok. I just…” Virgil glanced at Patton, then away, fast enough he almost missed it, and his brow furrowed further. Patton was the one Virgil was understandably the most at ease and trusting with, if it was something he didn’t wish to discuss in front of Patton… it must be deeply unpleasant, and something the ampen didn’t already know, or he wouldn’t be so afraid to share it.
“Patton. Can you check on Roman? He could use your emotional intelligence right now.” Patton looked at him in confusion at the abrupt change of topic, before looking back to Virgil, who sighed, smiling softly.
“It’s ok. Go see him.” Patton hesitated, but finally relented, giving Virgil a quick hug before letting him set him on the floor, stopping beside Logan.
“be careful with him. I just started getting through, Lo.” Patton pleaded softly, and Logan nodded.
“I promise, Patton.” He waited until Patton had vanished down the hall, before turning his attention back to Virgil, noticing how he had hunched in on himself slightly, shoulders tense, as if waiting for an impending strike. Carefully, he slid into the seat opposite the human, examining him with worry, though he looked better than he had.
“Virgil? What is it?” He asked softly, after a few long moments of silence. Virgil took a deep, shuddering breath.
“There's… something else. That i… it wasn’t just…” he took another deep breath, and Logan hesitantly rested a hand lightly atop Virgil’s, making sure he knew he could pull away. He didn’t, instead looking up at him, though his hair nearly obscured his eyes.
“it’s bad, lo… I can’t…”
“It’s ok, Virgil. Take your time.”
“I can show you. It’s… I can’t… it hurts.” Virgil whispered, and he could see his eyes glazing over, could see Virgil slipping away. He squeezed his hand lightly, trying to help center him. He only took a moment to decide, knowing whatever it was wouldn’t be pleasant, but he needed to know if he wanted to help, and he was prepared, this time, he could steel himself against it.
“Alright. Show me.” He closed his eyes, taking a deep breath in and out, initiating the Vidi.
Set in @delimeful ’s wonderful WIBAR AU. Virgil gets sick, and the others struggle to help him, not only with his illness, but the clear underlying emotional issues.
…
It was quiet, on the Mindscape.
Logan was reading, absently twirling his fingers and hands as he studied, recording information, though he was certain most of it would prove false, as it was the little that was reported about humans. Most were comparable to ghost stories or urban legends, but there were a few that seemed more credible, that he hoped would give some more insight into humans in general.
Roman was off working out somewhere, sparring, he insisted it was just to keep sharp, but they all knew it was because he didn’t trust the human on board not to go feral and kill them any second, despite Virgil’s rather shy and withdrawn personality. Still, at least he was getting his aggression out elsewhere, and not by actually fighting or snarking at the true object of his emotions. He was doing better, still, Logan would give him that, but there was a long way to go.
He could hear Patton pitter pattering about in the kitchen, chirping and warbling to himself, making his lips twitch up into a smile. It had been far too quiet, without the little Ampen aboard, too much silence to drown in. It was a comfort he hadn’t realized he’d grown accustomed to, hearing Patton hum and chirp and sing all day. Now it was also a relief, a steady reminder their friend was back home, safe and sound, and he frowned again, thinking of how close they had come to losing him for good. That they would have, had it not been for Virgil.
Speaking of…
“Patton?” He asked, stepping into the kitchen, the Ampen stopping his trilling as he set the kettle on the stove, giving him one of his warm, happy smiles, that seemed to actually light up the room.
“Yeah, Lo? Everything ok?” Patton’s antennae twitched slightly, and he focused back on the present.
“Yes, I believe so, I was simply wondering if you’d seen Virgil today. He is usually awake by now. I was hoping to discuss some… perhaps sensitive topics, that I picked up on during our vidi.”
It was true. He hadn’t seen much, with how fast it had all turned, and spiraled out of hand, and though Virgil and him had been having question and answer sessions, the ones he really wanted to ask seemed more… personal. So, he’d kept them to himself, and simply continued his observations, and studied up on the information available to him.
And what he’d noticed was… concerning, to say the least. He was certain the human wasn’t sleeping enough. Unlike most species, humans could run on limited sleep for an extended period of time, but he was slowly becoming aware that just because humans had the capability to do something, didn’t mean it was natural or good for them to do it. They could survive grievous injuries that would have killed any other species, but it came at great physical and mental cost. They could survive intense radiation, but they would sicken slowly and die. They could imbibe substances that a single sip would be deadly to himself, but even in small amounts, it inhibited a human’s survival instincts and weakened them.
So just because Virgil was running on, at his best guess, four to five hours of sleep a day, didn’t mean that was anywhere near the healthy range of a human’s normal requirements. He’d noticed some of the side effects so commonly, he’d thought they simply were how humans were, until the Vidi gave him glimpses at others, who lacked the bags under their eyes, the deep bruising, that Virgil always had. Virgil was often unsteady on his feet, “light headed” he called it, he often stared out into space for minutes at a time, without registering anything that was said or happening around him, he ran into things, doorframes, corners of furniture, he stumbled and often had to lean against something to regain his balance.
The other issue was his diet. Logan was absolutely certain that Virgil was not eating nor drinking enough. With his permission, he’d taken his heart rate, he’d calculated how many calories his body must burn, at the least, throughout a day. With no physical activity, no exertion, the very base level of sleep, Virgil was missing at least hundreds, if not nearly a thousand, necessary calories, and that was if he were in a relaxed state, which he never was. The human was endlessly jumpy and frightened and twitchy, and he had admitted that his heart rate was much higher than it should be, most of the time, due to his constant state of high alert. But despite this, he ate nearly the least at meals, always pushing food around his place, making excuses to take small portions, at least half the time Logan was certain he hadn’t eaten at all until he was forced to at their daily dinner together, and only then because he didn’t want to upset Patton. Based on his limited understanding, Virgil was immensely underweight and incredibly sleep deprived, both dangerously unhealthy states for humans.
“oh! I peeked in on him a bit ago. He’d just woke up, said he was going to take a shower. I’m kinda surprised he isn’t out here yet.” Patton frowned, his feathers fluffing in distress.
“I see. I’ll go check on him, Patton. Save me a cup?” He smiles as Patton’s face lights up again, only half surprised as Patton jumps at him, hugging him. He carefully supports the Ampen, holding him close, allowing his head to rest against Patton’s small, fluffy shoulder.
“Thanks, Lo. For looking out for him.” Patton mumbled, as Logan let him go, setting him back down on the counter.
“Of course, Patton. It’s the least I can do. He deserves to not only be safe, but feel safe. I am happy to help make that happen.” Patton’s feathers pulsed his trademark light blue, a sign of happiness, that made Logan’s hands flutter, trying to record the warmth in his chest, as he turns away.
…
He woke up with a groan, pushing the cupboard door open, jumping as his door opened, hitting his head against the back of the cupboard at the sudden movement, breath speeding wildly, before he registered Patton’s head poking in, concerned eyes on him.
“Hey, kiddo. Just checking in. Everything ok?” He sighed, but pushed back his exhaustion, summoning a small smile, making it as reassuring and genuine as possible, not difficult, faced with a small ball of fluff.
“I’m alright, Pat. Just catching up on some zee’s. Was gonna go shower.” Patton nodded, hopping into his arms for a quick snuggle, before chirping a happy goodbye and vanishing out the door.
He slumped back against the pylon behind him with another groan, rubbing his hands across his face, then up into his hair, wincing as he felt his hair stick straight up, matted with sweat. He’d stayed in bed far later than usual, but he hadn’t slept more. The night had been plagued with nightmares and sleep paralysis, filling him with terror so deep he couldn’t even scream, could merely panic until he passed out once more, tossing and turning restlessly.
He felt shivery, cold, and his head spun just a bit as he stood, his stomach turning at the motion, vertigo rocking him as he leaned against the wall for a moment, trying to get his bearings.
“fine. I’m fine.” He muttered, taking a few deep breaths in and out, before making his way to the door, listening for a few moments to make sure he couldn’t hear Roman anywhere nearby, he didn’t think he could handle the Crav’n in his current state.
Which was normal and healthy and perfectly fine. He had to be fine.
He made it to the bathroom with minimal stumbling, his vision barely swimming in and out, as he stripped, and turned on the water, hot enough it would probably burn any other members of their little band, but he just sighed in relief as he stepped in, letting the water run over him, soothe the aches building in his muscles. He let out a sigh, halfheartedly scrubbing at his hair, zoning out as he watched the steam.
As he watched, it seemed to form a shape, to swirl into a nebulous form, and his breathing stuttered, heart stopping, as he stared in fear at the suited figure, one of his captors, a needle stabbing down towards him, and he flinched back, the world blurring and swirling and fading out around him, static roaring through his ears, his heart racing as static filled his vision as well. Distantly, he heard knocks, someone maybe calling his name, then he felt his legs give out, his head hit something hard, and the world went black.
…
“Virgil? Are you alright?” He heard a loud thump, a crash, and his eyes widened, knocking again. “Virgil? If you do not answer me, I am going to enter. Virgil!” Nothing. He threw open the door, breath catching, freezing in place at the sight.
Virgil was sprawled across the bathroom floor, unconscious. His breathing seemed somewhat labored and shallow, and he could hear the slight wheeze to it from the doorway. What caught his eye first were the endless collection of scars, all across his body, covering nearly every inch of his skin, and it turned his stomach, it made him sick, the level of trauma and abuse Virgil must have endured. He’d known it wasn’t good, known he’d been a lab rat, an experiment, a being to harvest then sell off the parts once he was drained dry, but knowing it and seeing the scars, the marks of old burns from the stun batons, was something else entirely. And nothing Virgil had said had indicated the violence against him to be to this extent. He felt another surge of appreciation, for Virgil having protected Patton.
The second thing, that finally forced him into motion, was the small pool of red forming around the human’s head, likely where the back of his skull had impacted with the floor. Quickly, he grabbed a towel from off the rack, and rolled Virgil onto his side, wiping away the blood from his neck and hair, to see where to apply the pressure. He breathed a sigh of relief as he located the wound, surprisingly small, given the amount of blood loss, and he was confident a few moments of pressure would easily stop it.
“ROMAN!” He shouted with all his might, voice shaking and unsteady, hearing the crashing footsteps of the Crav’n immediately, the being sliding into the doorway mere moments later, scales raised to their extremes, teeth bared, ready to fight, no doubt hoping for an excuse to fight the human.
“Logan? What’s-“ Patton darts in around Roman’s legs, eyes widening as he instantly is at Virgil’s side, trembling, eyes wide as saucers.
“I need help. Roman, he’s heavy, I need-“
“Ok. Ok, teach, I got you. Let’s get him dressed, then I’ll move him to the couch. What’s… what happened?”
“I’m not entirely sure. I knocked and heard a crash, when I entered, he was like this. I suspect it has something to do with his malnutrition and sleep deprivation.” He answered, focusing on carefully pulling Virgil’s hoodie over his head, hands clenching sharply as one brushes his forehead. “he’s burning up.”
“That’s what happens when he’s… when he’s sick. Humans get all hot and shivery and sometimes their stomach hurts and they can’t eat. But that only happened on the… on the ship. When… when it was really bad.” His voice wavered, feathers flattening.
“I would suspect that he has been feeling ill for a couple of days now, if it’s grown severe enough to make him pass out. His normal temperature is around 98.6 to 99, I would estimate his to be closer to one hundred and three. Has he seemed off to you, Patton?”
“He’s spent less time with me. Less time out of his room. I thought he just needed some space, but… but he was trying to hide he was sick, wasn’t he?”
“Why would he do that? Did he think we’d just abandon him like some deathworlder would an injured comrade?” Roman snorted disdainfully, helping pull pants onto the human, though Patton could see the concern hiding behind his outrage.
“Contrarily, he probably didn’t want to be a burden. To use up more of our resources and time. He constantly sees himself as lesser, as the least important of the group, therefore the one who should take up the least space, least time, least amount of food. Surely, you’ve noticed, Roman.”
“I…hadn’t. I’ll take him now, Pat.” He mumbled softly, gently shooing him back as he scooped Virgil into his arms, surprised at how light the human was, his head lolling limply against his chest, his cheeks flushed, while the rest of his face was even paler than usual. He could feel the frantically rapid beat of his heart, his eyes flicking uneasily under their lids, and his scales flattened in concern. As much as he didn’t trust the human, he didn’t want to see him hurting, either. And if what Logan said was true, Virgil had not only been hurting, but hurting himself, out of, what? Loyalty? Worry? He just couldn’t get a handle on him.
Then again, he hadn’t tried very hard to get to know him, or to give him a chance. But there was something in seeing him so vulnerable, without the usual piercing stare and silent slink, that made him soften a bit, made him remember that despite being one of the most fearsome creatures in the universe, that Virgil was essentially a child, by human standards. He was so thin, too. He could count his bones, under that hoodie. No wonder he was always cold, he had no layer of fat on his bones.
And those scars…
Well. It was enough to almost make him rethink his view on Virgil, at least, as he laid him down on the couch in the common area, Patton immediately taking a seat by his head, brushing his hands soothingly through Virgil’s hair, as the human shook, muttering something in his sleep that was undecipherable, though the tone of fear was impossible to miss, as his hand clenched against the fabric.
“We need to break his fever. Blankets, Roman? I’ll get you a washcloth and water for his forehead, Patton. If he wakes, he is likely to be disoriented or possibly even hallucinate, because of the fever. However, I have no doubt he will calm immensely upon registering your presence. You are… his lifeline, Patton.” Patton nodded, continuing to focus on Virgil, doing the coo chirp pattern used to soothe babies, one of the first things Virgil had mimicked back to him, back on that awful ship.
“He’ll… he’ll be ok, right? He just needs some sleep and he’ll be okay?” His voice trembled, and Logan’s hands clasped behind his back, eyes darting as he looked for the right words to say.
“I don’t know. There’s so little information, Patton, I keep looking and there’s just… not enough, to help him, in any meaningful way. There’s no way of knowing if this is just a ‘flu’ or if it is something more severe. I know his heart rate is high and his breathing rasping, but I don’t know if that’s the result of the illness or simply stress, I would give him medicine, but I don’t know what he can have, what would be helpful, and I don’t know what to do if it’s something we aren’t equipped to handle!” He exploded, pacing the floor somewhat frantically, hands flailing wildly, wincing as one smacked the wall. “I don’t know what to do, but wait.” He said, softer, taking a deep breath and rubbing at his hand, looking up as Roman came to stand before him, gently patting one of his arms.
“It’s ok, Lo. No one expects you to have all the answers. We know you’ll do your best. You always do.” Logan nodded, pulling himself together somewhat, striding off to the kitchen, Roman heading down the hall to raid the extra blankets from the closets.
“you’ll be ok, kiddo. I promise.” Patton murmured, nuzzling against Virgil’s cheek, giggling as Virgil mumbles again, leaning into his touch, hand unclenching, face relaxing minutely. When Logan came back, he huffed fondly, Patton curled up against Virgil’s shoulder, just a ball of puffed up blue feathers, pulsing soothingly.
Next
…
He looks up at the sound of quiet footsteps coming down the ramp, only half surprised to see Virgil, who wraps a blanket around his shoulders, before sitting down beside him with his own, head deep in his hood, dark eyes shining as he looks up at the stars.
“How is he?” Comes the soft question. Patton looks up at the stars as well, a soft breath escaping his lips.
“Lost. It must be terrifying, to go from having no choices, no power to make your own decisions, to having complete control over your life. He doesn’t know how to use that, anymore. Doesn’t know what to do with it all, what to do with himself.” Virgil huffs, arms wrapping around his knees.
“Yeah. I was… a bit like that. When I first joined up with you. It seems silly, now, that I was ever scared of you, Pat, but I was. I was terrified, what would happen, when you found me.”
…
He hadn’t been invited on board. Patton and Logan hadn’t even known he was on board. They’d had a brief stopover, to refuel, on his home planet, spent barely twenty minutes there, total, at the small waystation, not many people enjoyed spending time near the presence of wraiths.
Virgil himself included.
He doesn’t know, still doesn’t know, how he found the courage to sneak aboard, when no one was looking, it wasn’t all that hard, he just slipped into the shadows and slipped into the hold, trying desperately to contain his fear so it wouldn’t spiral out and affect anyone else, so it wouldn’t seep through to them, so they wouldn’t notice anything amiss.
He hated the planet, after all. Hated the cold cruelty of the place, the eerie darkness, the icy fear always trickling down his spine. They fed off negativity, off fear, and there was no one easier to scare and frighten and torment than him. No one to protect him, from the others. No one to stay for. He saw a way out, and he took it, intending to simply slip off at the next stop, whatever that was, and find a way for himself, maybe beg, do simple chores for pay, do something. He hadn’t intended to be found.
He’d been hiding out for maybe a week, in the storage hold. He was cold and hungry and tired, huddled in the corner, behind some crates, curled around himself, shaking. He’d felt fuzzy and strange, and realized that was probably due to the whole not eating thing, but he couldn’t find the bravery to go scope out, to scrounge for food, he just had to hope they’d set down soon.
An arm on his shoulder had woken him. He’d screamed, hoarse and cracked, woken out of his light, fitful sleep, warm hands on him, and he was afraid, waiting to be thrown into a nightmare, into whatever hell world they’d chosen this time, curling tighter, arms coming up to cover his head in the meager defense he could provide for himself.
“please… please don’t… please… s-sorry, s-sorry…”
“Hey, hey, hey. It’s ok, I’m not gonna hurt you, kiddo. You’re burning up, when was the last time you ate anything?” He’d shrugged, scared out of his mind, breath speeding, because he was caught, he’d been caught, and what were they going to do with him?
“dunno. L-last st-op. Imma… wraith.” He mumbled, waiting for the fear, the derision, the pain.
“Oh, baby. Can we get you upstairs?”
“What… what’re y-ou gonna do, w-ith m-me?”
“Get some food in you, to start, and some water. Then get you all cozy on the couch, with plenty of blankets and pillows, something to bring down that fever of yours.”
“Y-you’re not m-m-mad?”
“Of course not. You were scared enough to stow away, to leave your own planet behind and hide out in a ship you had no idea how friendly or cruel the occupants of it were. I think that speaks for itself, kiddo. I’m not mad. I just wanna help, ok?” Patton had asked, and he’d hesitated for a long moment, before nodding.
“O-ok.” He’d realized his teeth were chattering, flinching as he felt arms around him, lifting him gently, as he passed out.
It had taken him a long, long time, to open up to any of them, to say anything without prompting, really, he was quiet and meek and half shadows, most of the time, unable to keep his form physical with the endless fear creeping through him. No one was allowed to touch him. Not even Patton. Any sudden movement sent him tearing from the room, and he spent most of his own time locked in his own, still convinced that they would send him back, jettison him off, kick him off at the next planet and never look back.
It was Logan, oddly enough, that wore him down. He always said what he thought, always pointed out the obvious, always answers with the truth, no matter how hurtful or blunt it is. That pure… obliviousness… to the concept of deception, was what finally convinced him, that they truly did want to help, wanted to let him have his space, wanted to just… be there.
He’d never had kindness before. He didn’t understand, kindness. He didn’t understand why they were being so nice to him, when he hadn’t done anything besides flinch and hide and recoil from their touches, their gazes, their attentions.
That’s what had led to him sitting on the middle of his bed, huddled in his blankets, shaking as he sobbed, not looking up at the soft knock on his door, letting out something that might have been a strangled ‘come in’. For once, he didn’t flinch away, as Patton entered the room, as he sat down on the very edge of the bed, looking at him with soft concern and warm care, and he just… broke. He fell into Patton’s arms and just broke.
…
He comes out of his own thoughts at Patton slipping a hand into his, and he smiles wryly up at the moon, shaking his head.
“sorry. Just…” He trails off with a sigh, closing his eyes for a long moment, trying to steady himself.
“I know, Vee. They’ve come so far, already. And you… I’m so proud of you, Virgil. I really, really am.” He looks away, face red, hiding the small smile in the blanket around his head, smile growing as Patton rests his head on his shoulder, nuzzling against him.
“Pat, you’re making it really hard for me to nostalgically mope.” He mutters, Patton laughing softly against him.
“Good.” Patton says, wings uncurling and stretching out behind him as he yawns.
“Should you head in, Pat?” He asks, amusement coloring his tone, as Patton shakes his head.
“Roman wanted to stay outside. I wanna let him get as much fresh air as possible. aThey’ve been… confined, for too long, Virg. They’ve been through so much, I just wanna let him have whatever he needs.” Virgil smiles fondly, laying his blanket on the ground behind Patton.
“Alright. Lay down.” He orders, gently pushing Patton’s shoulder, who goes over with little resistence, a little giggle, stretching one wing out, resting Roman atop it, curling his other wing over him as he lays down, holding him close, Roman’s hands gently curling into his feathers, nuzzling against them, snuggling into the softness. He smiles as Virgil tucks the other blanket tight around them, before leaning down and kissing the top of his head softly.
“I’ll keep watch, Pat. Sweet dreams.” In the blink of an eye, Virgil vanishes into the shadows, though Patton knows he hasn’t gone far.
“G’night, Virg. Love you.” He mumbles, already slipping asleep as the cozy warmth seeps into his bones.
…
He wakes up screaming. For the first time in a little over three years, he wakes up screaming, immediately slapping a hand over his mouth, swallowing down the sound, choking on it, praying no one else has heard him, he doesn’t want to bother them, and he buries his head in his hands, trying to get a grip, because it wasn’t real, he knows it wasn’t real.
The white hospital bed. Firm, cold shackles against his upper arms and wrists, holding them tight to the armrests of the chair. An IV in his arm, pumping him full of vitamins and minerals and a mild sedative, something to keep him still against the sharp stings of pain as they carefully peel off every scale. He watches in quiet, morbid, fascination, as his arms turn from gold to crimson, as he starts to shiver, even the heating light they have on above him not enough to keep him warm, against the blood loss.
It’s still another hour before he’s hazing in and out of awareness, another half hour before they call a stop, binding his injuries with curt, steady motions, guiding him back to his small room, nothing more than white walls, floors, ceiling, a hard bed, a warm blanket, it must be night, because the uv rays are off, as they emotionlessly deposit him on the bed, as always, locking the door behind them without a word.
Tomorrow they’ll take more scales, until he doesn’t have any left. He’ll be sick and shaking and unable to keep any food down, they’ll hook him to more IVs to keep him alive, until his scales start to regrow and just when he’s starting to feel alright again, they’ll pluck him clean once more.
That’s his life. That’s all it’ll ever be. A sickly, half conscious life, hazed over with fever and pain, dying slowly from lack of contact, lack of socialization, lack of touch.
…
A knock on his door has him jolting, a strange foreboding in his chest, a tightness to his lungs, and he hears someone speaking, but they sound a million miles away, and he’s petrified, he can’t seem to move a single muscle, he’s frozen in place, though his mind is screaming at him, to do something, anything, he can’t, as his vision swims, he can’t.
All he can hear is the chiming tone that tells him its time to get up for the day, to put on his loose, white clothing, to quietly eat his meal, to sit on the bed and wait silently for them to come retrieve him, to keep his eyes down and his hands in front of him, to make no motion until told, otherwise they’ll be forced to retaliate to protect themselves, regardless of whether he’s attacking or not.
He’s never attacking. He’s too scared, too well trained, to attack, to try anything, at this point, he knows it would be useless. Even if he bit one, two of them, sent them shaking and convulsing to the ground, there would be more, and he can’t fight through them all, can’t make it out of this facility, wherever it is, doesn’t even know if they’re on a planet or drifting in space, and there’s no point to resisting. Better to be compliant and meek and do as he’s told.
Another soft knock, voice a bit louder, more concerned, gives him enough, shocks his mind, his system enough to break out of his stupor, to move, to stumble, stagger, trip over his own feet through a tilted, spinning world speckled with dark spots, to make it to the door, fumbling with the locks before finally managing to undo them, knowing that voice will somehow make this better, will somehow keep all of that from happening, will somehow get him out of here, where there’s no space and air and light and he can’t breathe or see or speak.
The door opens and he falls, though warm arms catch him, the voice inhales sharply, speaking, though he still can’t hear, he should be able to hear him, he can get the sense of what he’s saying, but not the words, and dimly he registers the arms moving, scooping him up, off the ground, and he clings to the voice, as they carry him somewhere else, somewhere open, more space, before sitting down, though not letting go.
He registers counting, a slow, steady rhtym, one he knows, one he uses, one he tries to emulate now, in fits and starts, feeling a hand softly running up and down his arm, shivering as it touches his scales, phantom pain making him flinch, and the movement stops.
“N-no… D-d-don’t…” He can’t choke out more than that, but they seem to understand, resuming their gentle up and down motion, especially light and gentle over his scales, slowly soothing him, because no one besides his crew, his friends, his family, are allowed to touch them, and only they have ever been this gentle with him, and as his breathing finally starts to even, his heart rate starts to beat normally, copying the rhythm it can feel from the warm body pressed against his, his vision starts to clear, and he slumps forwards, the tension leaking out of him as he presses his head into Logan’s chest, trembling as he takes a deep, shuddering breath.
“Janus?” Comes the soft, quiet question, and he nods, even that motion takes too much effort, too much energy, but he summons his words anyway.
“yes. ‘M here.” He mumbles, feeling Logan’s own relieved breath, his arms wrapping securely around his back, holding him close, as he realizes tears are slipping down his cheeks, unbidden. “sorry. Didn’t… didn’t mean to wake you.” Logan shushes him, slowly rocking him back and forth.
“No. I’m sorry. I should have realized, today’s events would be triggering. One of us should have checked up on you, after you settled Remus.” He shivers, folding tighter against Logan, exhaustion from the fading adrenaline and panic attack shattering his normal walls.
“If he hadn’t been there… Lo, if he hadn’t-“ He breaks off, choking on his words, on his fear. “I can’t do it again. I c-can’t… I didn’t know, then, but I do, now, and I c-can’t-“
“Shh, shh, shh, I know, I know, Janus. But you don’t have to. You will never, never have to go through that again. You’re safe, you’re safe, Janus, and we, I, will never let that happen to you again. I promise.” Logan murmurs, gently running his thumb in circles against Janus’s cheek, the other wrapped around his waist to keep him steady. “I promise. I’m not letting go, alright? Get some rest. I’ll keep anything from harming you, while you sleep, I promise.”
“N-not… Y-you and P-patton and Vi-rgil, c-can’t let them… can’t h-ave y-y-you-“ He can feel Janus already starting to drift, unable to hold on to awareness, after such a strong attack, plus his already elevated exhaustion and worry and stress, his words making his heart ache, because despite everything, Janus was focused on them, worried about them, getting taken, keeping them safe.
“We’re all ok, Janus. No one is going anywhere. No one is leaving. No one is going to hurt them. I promise.” He murmurs, relaxing himself as he feels Janus’s breath even into deep, long, inhales and exhales, going fully limp against him, smiling down at the sleeping Naga, at the trust and faith his friend has in him, to not need locked doors to keep him safe, when Logan is right there, watching over him.
He forgets, sometimes, where Janus has come from. How long, he spent in that endlessly cruel monotonous captivity.
He came so far, so fast, and even now, he masks his pain so well, hides behind that wicked smirk and smooth surety, and its so easy, to forget when they first got to him nearly eight years ago he barely spoke a single word for three months, nearly convincing all of them he was mute. It took him longer still, to understand choices, they had to introduce them slowly, starting with ‘would you prefer A or B’ type questions before moving to open ended ones.
It’s easy to forget, just how brave he is, acting as their inside man when necessary, posing as a buyer to get onto smuggler’s ships, playing the part he hates more than anything, no doubt terrified beneath the surface, because if anything went wrong, in most cases, they wouldn’t be able to get to him in time. But he never backs down, never says no, and Logan knows that Janus would rather perish than fail to free whomever they held trapped, and it scares him, his reckless, fast paced bravery, scares him. Because he is just as terrified of losing Janus as he clearly is of losing them. It makes him hold on a little tighter, continuing to rub Janus’s back, to murmur softly to him, keeping him company through the rest of the night.
…
“Patton?” They both looked up at the sound of the door opening, Janus slipping inside, surveying the scene. Virgil was still curled against Patton, eyes red and hands a bit shaky, though he seemed alright otherwise.
“H-hi.“ Virgil managed, voice hoarse, though his sobs had died out hours ago.
“Virgil. How are you feeling, love?” Janus asked, voice warm with relief and concern.
“better. I think.” He mumbled, fidgeting with his hoodie strings, dark eyes barely visible from the depths of his hood. “which isn’t really saying much, considering anything is probably better than where I was.”
“Any progress is progress, darling. It doesn’t have to be a huge revelation, to be important. Sometimes, you hear something so often it becomes a fact of life in your head, regardless of the truth of the matter. Sometimes you just need to hear the opposite enough times from enough people to start believing in your own worth again.” Janus said, leaning in the doorway. Virgil huffed, looking away.
“you’re all so much… smarter, than me. No wonder I stayed with Him. I’m so… just… stupid.”
“You’re not, love. You’re not the only one, who died because of an unhealthy, abusive, relationship. You’re not the only one who loved someone who wasn’t good for you. If I seem smarter, it’s only because I’ve had longer to comes to terms with it. I’ve had the others, to help break down all of what was taught to me. There’s nothing stupid about it, Virgil. People like that… they know what they’re doing, when they manipulate you, and they’re damn good at it. It isn’t your fault, darling, and you aren’t stupid for it. You’re just… human.” Janus smiled wryly, and something about his words struck so close to home that Virgil almost burst into tears again, barely containing them with a deep breath and hard swallow.
“Do you wanna go properly meet Roman and Logan?” Patton asked softly, and Virgil seemed to shrink in on himself more.
“He’d add Remus to the group of people you need to ‘properly meet’, but you’ve met him at about his best.” Janus added dryly, half smirking in victory as Virgil let out a small, shaky laugh.
“ok. If… if you’re sure they don’t h-hate me. For h-hurting them. Hurting you.”
“They don’t, honey.” Patton reassured, kissing the top of his head, before helping him to his feet, Virgil a little wobbly, though he waved away Patton’s concern.
…
Roman was pacing the living room once more, unable to cease his motion or risk flying apart at the seams. He knew, it wasn’t Virgil’s fault, but that darkness, that power… it scared him.
And now Patton was alone with him, alone with the being that had very nearly sapped him dry. He was so conflicted. On the one hand, he felt sorry for Virgil, he had watched him, after all, they had, seen how he struggled with depression and anxiety, and on top of that an abusive relationship. He knew Virgil didn’t mean any harm, was extremely strong to have pulled back from the brink.
But the protective side of him was screaming that Patton was in danger, they were all in danger, as long as Virgil stuck around. At least Janus had left, a few minutes ago, to check on them.
“Roman. Would you please cease?” Logan asked, looking up from his book, frowning slightly at the noise of his pacing.
“How can you be so calm about this?” He asked, rounding on Logan, who merely raised a brow.
“Virgil has agreed to let Patton, at least, help him manage his issues, and Janus has personal experience recovering from the kind of trauma Virgil has endured. I am confident that we will not have another issue. Why are you still panicking?” Logan’s tone made him want to scream, so frustratingly even, and he threw up his hands.
“Why wouldn’t I be? He nearly destroyed us, Logan, and he wasn’t even trying! We both know he’s prone to fits of panic! What if during one of them he snaps, and hurts all of us? What if he loses control? It wasn’t even fully formed, and it nearly-“
“Roman-“
“And he wasn’t even trying, Logan! What happens if he decides to use it? He has almost as much power as Remus, what if he decides he wants the place to himself, what if he decides he’s tired of us, what if he decides to hurt you, or Patton, or Janus? He could end us, Logan, and I refuse to let that happen. I won’t sit idly by and let him tear all of this apart. We have to… to do something! Something to make sure he can’t!”
“Roman.” Janus’s voice, sharp and cold as ice, and it cut him to his very core. His eyes widened and he had a sinking feeling he knew exactly what he would find when he turned around. He desperately met Logan’s eyes, who shook his head, disapproval written across his face. Slowly, he turned, taking it in one at a time.
Janus, face cold and eerily impassive, eyes burning a hole through him, with how hard and sharp his gaze was. Patton, mouth open in a silent O, turning to Virgil, who was squeezing his hand as if his afterlife depended on it.
And Virgil. Virgil was shaking like a leaf, face pale and eyes wide, starting to fizzle into darkness at the edges of his being.
“Virgil I-“ He took a step forwards, eyes wide and pleading, trying to meet Virgil’s. “I didn’t mean- I’m sorry- That’s not-“ Virgil shook his head, stumbling back a step for his one forwards, arms wrapping around his middle.
“it’s fine. It’s… I g-get it, I…”
“Virgil. Please. It is alright. He was just worried.” Virgil laughed at Logan’s words, a harsh, gasping thing, that shook his thin frame harder.
“Right. Worried. Ab-out me. H-hurting you. All of y-you. And you know what? He’s right! I c-can’t control myself, I p-anic, I-“
“Darling.” He looked up at Janus, who was reaching out a beseeching hand, asking him, begging him, with his eyes to take it.
The moment seemed suspended in time.
Logan was watching him carefully, calculating odds in his head, he could see it. Roman was struggling for words, trying to find something to say, stance defensive. Patton was looking closely at him, eyes echoing Janus’s sentiment, warm and soft and kind. Janus was almost desperate, almost… afraid.
He could see it. He could see it in each of their eyes. No matter what they said, no matter how much they wanted to help him, wanted to trust him, each of them were afraid of him. Afraid of what he could do. Afraid of what he would do. That’s the only reason Patton and Janus were reaching out, the only reason Roman had stepped between him and the wraith, the only reason Logan had gathered the others to come help, the only reason Remus had let them all in.
Fear.
He was all too acquainted with fear. And for the first time, he wondered, what exactly that fear would lead them to do to him, if he lost control once more. He had the suddenly sinking feeling that he knew, that Roman, at least, wouldn’t hesitate, and Logan wouldn’t be far behind. They would do what they had to, to keep their family safe, and if it destroyed him, then that was the cost. He found he couldn’t blame them. Not when Patton and Janus were so… good.
“I’m sorry.” He whispered. Then he was gone.
…
“No!” Janus cried out, lunging forwards, but he wasn’t fast enough, his hand closed on empty air, and he spun, punching the wall with a curse, head hanging low as he tried to fight back the upwelling of emotions, the desperate crushing defeat filling his chest. “dammit.” He whispered, spinning at a hand on his shoulder.
“Dammit, Roman! He was listening, he was understanding, he was letting us in, and who are you, who are you to make him more afraid of himself than he already was? You think he doesn’t know, what he’s capable of? You think he doesn’t know what’s at stake? And you… You!” He growled, stalking forwards, not sure what he was moving towards, perhaps punching Roman in the face, but Remus caught his arm before he got there, and he hissed at him, trying to pull out of his grip.
“Janny. Don’t. It won’t fix anything. It’s not what you want.” He nearly pulls away, snarling, surprised as he finds himself folding against Remus instead, angry tears slipping down his face.
“we had him. we were so close, we had him.” He whispered, voice hoarse and drawn, as he felt Remus hug him tight.
“I’m sorry… I didn’t mean… God, I’m sorry.” Roman, voice cracking, looking helplessly between Patton and Logan, shame and self loathing welling in his chest.
“I know. I know, kiddo. I know you’re just worried about us, and I understand. But… but you have to give him a chance. We almost had a chance.” Patton whispers the last sentence, his own tears slipping down his face. He had a feeling Virgil wouldn’t be so easy to find this time, that he’d hide away well and truly.
But at least they’d gotten through to him. At least he was thinking on it, on his relationship being unhealthy, at least he’d gotten that far. He hoped it was enough.
…
Next
TW for past abuse, emotional manipulation
…
He slipped into awareness slowly. He was warm, comfortable, he felt… safe. The ever present haze of dread and fear and exhaustion was gone. He could hear voices, speaking, but he couldn’t make out the words. He realized he was hearing them through a door, and managed to crack open his eyes.
A room. Not his. A bed. Also not his. The blanket was a soft baby blue color, fluffy and warm. The walls were a light cream, the ceiling painted with clouds that seemed to move slowly across it, and the whole space gave off an aura of soothing calm. He sat up, pulling the blanket tight around his shoulders, wondering if he should get up, when the door opened.
He flinched at the noise, curling in on himself, tense as he heard footsteps across the floor, recoiling slightly at a touch of his shoulders.
“I’m sorry.” He whispered, feeling himself shaking. “I t-told you to stay a-away. I’m sorry I-“
“Shhh. It’s okay, baby.”
“It’s not! It’s not. I j-just want it to end, why can’t it just end? Why…” he trailed off, feeling Patton shift closer, wrapping an arm around his shoulder, which he let stay, leaning slightly into it.
“Because some part of you wants to keep going. Some part of you wants to believe in yourself. I’m so proud of you, kiddo. I know it was hard, to stop that darkness. But you did, and I’m so proud.”
“What was that? Th-that th-thing? It w-was me, w-wasn’t it? I’m J-just a m-monster.”
“No. Honey, no, you aren’t a monster. The people who made that darkness, who fed it, who nurtured it until you believed every word it said, they are the monsters. Not you. Everyone’s ok. Everyone’s alright. We just… we need to work on some things, so that doesn’t happen again.”
“what would have happened? If I h-had let it, what would it have done?” Patton hesitated, and Virgil looked up at him, dark eyes burning with something almost akin to pain. “please. I need to know. I… need to understand, I don’t know anything about this, b-being this, and I c-can’t…”
“Ok. Logan might be better at explaining this, but I’ll try. So, there are different types of spirits. We’re ghosts. We’re human souls that, for some reason or another, haven’t moved on. We’re sentient and, with effort, can influence the physical world. Remus is a poltergeist. He’s not human, never has been. He’s a result of wild energies all swirling together, a manifestation of the universe’s chaos come to life. He can influence things in the physical world more easily, and isn’t bound to this location. He can go wherever he likes. There are also ghosts that appear on a schedule, same routine every time they appear. A woman walking down the stairs, vanishing around a corner at the stroke of ten, that kind of thing. Those are memories, impressions made on a space by some kind of high impact event. They aren’t sentient or aware, it’s just like watching a home video, a snapshot of a different time. Then… then there are corrupted souls.” Virgil was uncurling slightly, looking at him curiously now, listening intently.
“Corrupted souls?”
“Darkness takes over. They lose who they are. All they know is that they’re hurt and angry and someone needs to pay for it. It doesn’t matter who. They can drain the energy of other ghosts, effectively erasing their existences, they grow uncontrollably, destroying everything in their paths, until they burn themselves out. Usually, it takes years, decades, even, for a spirit to become so lost, to give themselves over to that darkness completely. And usually only then when they don’t have any other spirits around to keep them company. It’s when they start going mad from being alone for so long. But you… we were seconds away from losing you to it, kiddo. That’s what has us scared. That you already had so much of that darkness instilled in you.” Virgil shuddered, pulling away, wrapping the blanket tighter around himself
“I was doing that, to you. T-to all of you. Wasn’t I? Draining you all. I almost… I could’ve…” panic climbed his throat, choking him once more, and he could barely hold himself together.
“But you didn’t. That’s what matters, kiddo. You didn’t let it. Coming back from that, stopping that, is incredibly hard, but you did. You did, and that’s all that matters.” Virgil shook his head, shoving back his hair.
“what if it happens again? What… what if I can’t stop it?” He whispered.
“that’s not gonna happen. But you have to let us in, Virgil. You have to let us help, and be there for you, ok? That’s all I want. Is to be able to be there for you.” Patton held his nonexistent breath, pleading, praying, begging for Virgil to say yes, to let him help, because otherwise…
Otherwise they would lose him. Sooner or later, they would lose him.
“please?” he asked again, quietly, watching as Virgil slowly nodded.
“ok.” Then Virgil folded against him with a soft wail, and Patton embraced him, rocking him softly until he cried himself out, falling back asleep.
…
He felt more… himself, when he woke up next. The panic and fear were gone, his chest loose and not tangled up in knots. He felt… almost relaxed. He couldn’t remember the last time he felt any kind of unstressed or untensed.
He realized part of that might be because he could feel someone massaging his scalp, a kind of gentle touch he hadn’t felt in years, the kind he could barely remember feeling at all. It made him want to fall back asleep, to stay here in this warm, soft, bliss.
“mmm… Patton?” He murmured sleepily, blinking his eyes open. Usually, this much touch would make him afraid, set him on edge, but it felt… safe, coming from Patton, who was curled around him like a mother cat with her kitten.
“Hey, kiddo. Feeling better?” Patton asked, not stopping his gentle scritching.
“yeah. I… I think so.” He mumbled, moving to sit up, pulling away from Patton a bit, pulling his knees to his chest, biting his lip.
“That’s good. I want to talk to you, about something. But I don’t want you to get upset, and run away again.” Virgil tensed, but didn’t move, shaking as he pushed back his hair. “Virgil. It’s nothing bad, nothing to do with you. It’s… you remember, what I said that made you run, when Janus found you?” He asked softly, Virgil wincing, curling a bit tighter.
“yeah.” He mumbled, not offering more, refusing to look up at Patton.
“Did you ever tell Him no?” That was not the question he was expecting, and he chewed on his lip. He didn’t know where Patton was taking this, just thinking about Him made him shake, but he somehow knew this was important.
“no. I never… I never could. He did so much for me. I had to, I… I owed him!” Patton hummed, nodding, not disagreeing.
“Okay. Did he ever tell you no?” He furrowed his brows, thinking.
“Well… yeah. I always asked for too much. I didn’t contribute, so I didn’t get a say, and that was… was fine, I guess.”
“Did he ever tell you yes?” Patton continued, forcing him to answer without any room for obfuscation.
“no.” He whispered.
“Okay. Did he let you go out with friends? Did he let you go out alone?”
“N-no. But that was to protect me. I’m always afraid, of getting jumped or something. He always wanted to know where I was, that I was safe.”
“Would he get mad, if he didn’t know?”
“yeah.”
“Did you know where he was, all of the time? Were you allowed to ask what he was doing, who he was with, who he was seeing, where he was spending time, anything at all?” Virgil hesitated again, clearly thinking, and Patton was hoping, praying this nonconfrontational approach would help Virgil start to understand.
“no.”
“Would he get mad, if you asked?” Virgil looked up at him, for the first time since the start of this, eyes confused and dark, as he nodded.
“so. Can I summarize? You were not allowed to refuse him anything. You were not allowed to anywhere without him. You were not allowed to see anyone without him. you were not allowed to have friends. You were not allowed to do things for yourself.” Virgil nodded again, foccused on Patton. “He was allowed to say no, said no to anything you asked for, for yourself. He was allowed to go out, and tell you nothing of where he’d been, or who he’d been with. He was allowed all the freedoms you were denied, and would get angry if you questioned him. Because that was asking why. And if you started asking why, you would see how unbalanced the scales were tipped. He would start to lose control. So he cut you off from friends, took away your hobbies, forced you to be completely dependent on him, until you believed his reasoning as to why, so you would stop asking that of yourself. That was manipulation. That was abuse.
Virgil, someone who loved you would never, not even jokingly, tell you to kill yourself. Not when they knew you were in a fragile enough mental state that you might actually do it. Someone who loved you wouldn’t have stopped you from doing the things you love. They would have enjoyed watching you do them, been happy because you were happy. Someone who loved you would have never said no without a reason. Would have some give and take, wouldn’t get furious to the point it scared you, for simply asking where they’d been that day. A person who loved you wouldn’t make you a prisoner of your own home, wouldn’t prey on your fears, wouldn’t take your freedom and self esteem away to make his own ego larger.
I know you might not believe me, at first. I know you might not believe me, ever, but just… just think about it, ok? Think about everything he demanded of you, then think of everything he ever denied you, and weigh them against each other. You’ll find the scales completely unbalanced. That is abuse. Manipulating you into hurting yourself? That is abuse. Okay?” He asked softly, surprised as Virgil barreled into him, easily accepting his hug, swaying him back and forth gently.
“ok.” Was the oh so quiet reply, too quiet, but Virgil hadn’t run, hadn’t left, was still there in his arms, shaking silently, and he rested his head atop Virgil’s, gently shushing him, rubbing his back, relief coursing through him. Virgil was thinking it over, at least, was willing to do that much, willing to listen, and hopefully, soon, he’d be willing to talk, as well. But it was a start. A very, very good start.
whump aesthetics • bailey / poppet
(a commission by @wolfeyedwitch ~ her tormented villain whumpee from with bloody outstretched hands)
Pirates!
A/N: So about a week ago, i got inspired by thisawesome prompt about pirates by @whump-maniaand@deluxewhump and wrote this little piece! I’d hoped i’d get the inspiration to write a bit more because i do like, but I don’t know if I will, so here it is anyways.
CW: body horror, past abuse, past torture, near-death, drowning, dismemberment (not to the MC), guns, murder
~
Cannon balls exploded through The Galway’s thick belly, flinging lethal shards of wood in every direction. Huddled down with his shaved head clamped between his knees, Indy gritted his teeth and tried not to piss himself.
At first, the noise had been unbearable; the shattered wood of the ship’s leaking sides flying apart, the chest-vibrating explosions of their and the pirates’ cannons, the men’s violent and terror-filled screams, the crack of rifles up on deck and clashing of metal as the rifles ran short of shot and the Navy resorted to steel blades and galley knives. Now, Indy’s ears were thick with ringing and he couldn’t have said what was happening more than two feet away from him, let alone who was winning the battle above deck.
Filmy, debris-filled water sloshed across the filthy boards of the brig’s deck and Indy’s hyperventilating breaths hitched on a hysterical sob. Maybe the Navy and the pirates attacking them would kill each other and both their sorry ships would sink with steady inevitability into the uncaring, thrashing sea.
God wouldn’t be so kind, Indy thought. The sea didn’t care whether it swallowed up a good man or an evil one, a whole man or a broken one, but Indy didn’t dare wish that his sins would be washed away with any such quiet dignity. It would be too much to hope for that the whole ship and its crew would be lost to the sea beds, no-one alive left to tell of what hell he’d been through, or how his will had been so easily broken.
A cannonball ripped a ragged, gaping hole through the ship’s wall at the far end of the brig and Indy screamed into his arm, clamped over his face. The ship shuddered, a giant beast in the throes of death, and Indy wrapped his other arm even tighter around the brig’s thick bars as the deck tilted alarmingly. The sea frothed and churned, soaking him up the waist in icy water, black in the dim light. Indy sobbed, shaking violently as the sea dug its salty fingers into his numerous cuts and set them throbbing like a fresh jellyfish sting.
If the ocean had cared for the morals of the men it took, it would spare Vince, Indy decided as he screwed his eyes shut, his heart thunderous in his ringing ears. And, hell, maybe Rudy would make it too. The cat hadn’t done anything wrong either, Indy thought with panicked humour. Knowing the scraggly, sly beast, she’d managed to find somewhere dry and safe to wait out the battle. Indy only wished that he could slip through these bars and do the same. He’d lost half his bodyweight or more, but the bars were still too closely packed together to let him escape between them. If the water rose further, or a cannonball erupted through the ship’s side too close by, or any one of the innumerable wooden splinters flying around hit him; he was dead and there was shit all he could do about it.
It took a long time before Indy’s hearing returned enough for him to realise that the battle that had been warring up above had fallen quiet. The water was still rising, lapping at his chest and leaving him numb with the chill. It was hard to hear anything from above deck with the slap and shclish of it butting up against the ship’s walls but Indy caught snatches of shouting. His heart drummed against his ribs, as trapped as he was within these bars.
A gunshot ricocheted through the air, cutting through the lingering ringing in his ears, and Indy flinched like a kicked horse. His bruised ribs ached as he jerked backwards, as if he could possibly push himself any further into the brig’s corner.
The sea continued, indomitably, to rise. When it began to slosh against his neck, Indy forced himself up to standing, clinging to the brig’s bars as he sagged against them, giving the keen of an injured animal at the pain. He struggled to balance once he was up, the sway of the ship so much harder to ride out when he was upright and his slick, frozen hands barely able to hold onto the bars. The sea was up to his hips, frigid and angry at being caught inside the ship’s walls, and it roiled with repressed power, growing stronger with every inch it rose. Indy’s face was so cold he didn’t know if he was still crying or if it was just the salty ocean spray, not that it mattered. He didn’t know if he wanted the sea to keep climbing till it closed over his head, or if he still held out on the hope of someone rescuing him.
How stupid was that? All this time and he still had half an eye on the wooden staircase, watching for a saviour that didn’t exist. Regardless, it didn’t matter what he wanted. He couldn’t change anything. If the captain had taught him anything, it was his own utter uselessness.
The sea continued to climb and Indy clung to the bars as he was lifted off his feet by the force of the waves. The ship was groaning under the strain and Indy didn’t know how much longer she would be able to stay afloat with all the holes punched into her sides.
Indy was gasping at the last half a foot of air space between the sea and the ceiling, fully afloat in the churning water, when the sharp clatter of boot heels came from the stair way. Indy whipped his head around, continuing to cling to the brig bars but unable to make himself call out. A wave of water sloshed over his head and, numb limbs flailing, it took him too long to get back to the surface.
Choking and coughing, eyes streaming, Indy yelped when a rough hand grabbed his arm. Instinctively jerking away, Indy swallowed another mouthful of foul water as the waves tugged him back under. He’d lost his grip on the brig’s bars in his shock and, disorientated in the black water, Indy’s lungs burned as he lost track of which way was up.
Strong hands yanked at his arm and this time, Indy grabbed onto them. The terror of drowning was too strong and he found, as he was dragged forcefully back into the gunpowder-filled air, that he still wanted to live after all.
The brig door was somehow, miraculously open, and Indy was towed out of his loathed cage with barely a moment to catch his breath. The sea was almost at the ceiling and Indy didn’t have any chance to see who was dragging him determinedly forwards before the air ran out and it was a dizzying, lung-burning scramble the last few feet through the water to the stairs.
Knocking his knees hard against the wood, Indy retched up salt water and acid as he pulled himself out of the water on hands and knees.
“Move, fucking move,” a gravelly voice barked at him. The hand on his arm roughly tugged him up the stairs and, uncoordinated with cold and breathlessly disorientated, Indy could only try to keep up.
Water seeped through the floorboards of the middle deck and the Navy soldiers’ belongings washed back and forth in the shallow water. There were bodies up here, sprawled prone and leaking blood into the sea like scarlet paint.
“Move!”
Indy dragged his gaze away from the splatter of brain matter across the wall. As they climbed up the stairs to the main deck, he caught a glimpse of the unfamiliar blond hair and broad shoulders of the man in front of him, his scarily large hand gripping Indy’s matchstick arm with enough force to leave a black and blue bruise. Then the incongruously bright sunlight blinded Indy’s eyes, so used to the squalid darkness, and he staggered up into the chaos on the main deck.
Men were screaming, giving furious orders or yelling in desperate pain, and The Galway was beginning to tilt at an alarming angle. Through his blurred eyes, Indy barely recognised her. Her mast was barely there, cannonballs had wrought unfixable damage all across the shot-pocked deck, and the sailors that had previously manned and mopped and run errands and slept and pissed within her walls were now lying in haphazard, bloody piles.
The ship groaned and creaked as she leant alarmingly to port. A severed arm rolled across the deck towards Indy and he retched violently, his ears ringing deafeningly. The wind was cutting up here and it swept right through his sodden, thin clothes, chilling him utterly and leaving him numb and disconnected.
The one spot of warmth – the harsh grip on his upper arm – dragged him along without relenting and Indy staggered after them without conscious thought. When he fell over a body, hitting his knees on the slick with a bone-juddering impact, he was lifted bodily up and thrown over someone’s shoulder with enough force to knock the air from him. As the blood rushed to his head, he let himself hang limp. He couldn’t hear a thing and his vision was swimming with black dots, but he was somehow acutely aware of the drops of water leaking out of his wet hair and falling to the swaying deck below.
~
so there you are *shrug* <3
@whumpthisway I’ve been on a sea-themed whump kick for reasons I think we can all discern and this was delightful
I love the way you used environment to build intrigue!!! and all of the sensory details felt so visceral, so urgent. I really felt the sympathetic claustrophobia of Indy and you really captured the chaos of the scene interspersed with the introspective moments that didn’t feel forced or abrupt at all!!
you have a great gift for writing action - which is so hard! - and it was so realistic how little details jumped out vividly at Indy (like the arm rolling across the deck, oof) highlighting the panicked state of his brain rather than merely showing his thoughts racing. it was so cool that as the action built and built, more details get revealed!!
am very intrigued about poor Indy his seeming sense of self-hatred…his jaded view of things…how did he end up in this brig? I wanna know more…
(can I be added to the taglist please? )
