From: (Anonymous)
He wasn’t sure how long they stood like that, Sota and Clarus talking somewhere to one side of the room, too quiet to hear properly. He stopped crying, after a while, but the trembles didn’t go away entirely. His whole body was exhausted, worn down, like he’d been through the worst ever training session with Gladio, and it was all he could do to stay upright and carry on holding on. Then he remembered how Ignis had to have felt, the blood everywhere and his whimpers, weak and desperate—

‘Noctis, shh,’ his dad said, soothing him like he was a little kid, rocking him gently back and forth where they stood. He’d started crying again, he realised dully, clinging on to his dad’s jacket and creasing it all up at the back. ‘It’ll be okay,’ his dad said. ‘You’re safe; it’ll all be okay.’

When they finally parted — Noctis taking a handful of his dad’s sleeve and not letting go as they sat down next to each other — he had to stop himself from simply curling up and falling asleep. He was bone-tired. His eyelids slid shut without him meaning them to, hot and heavy, and he couldn’t get them to stay open no matter what he did.

‘I was filled in on my journey here,’ his dad was saying, and Noctis turned his head and let it rest on his shoulder. ‘They’ve caught everyone immediately involved, and investigations into what, if any, larger group are responsible, and their motives. Ignis is currently in surgery; the last I heard, he’s going to be out in a few hours, and will make a full recovery. The rapidity of his arrival here, from becoming injured, means elixir based healing will be fully effective.’

‘Oh,’ Noctis said, the sound squeezing itself from his lungs. He should be more relieved, he felt, only he was so tired, and he’d known Ignis would had to have survived, undamaged, because he was Ignis, right?

‘When can I see him?’ he asked. A few hours was like, three to five hours, right?

His dad hesitated. ‘Perhaps it’ll be better to visit tomorrow,’ he said, and a cold, empty wash of panic swept through Noctis, kicking away the exhaustion into trembling adrenaline.

Noctis lifted his head, stared at his dad, met his eyes for the first time since he’d walked in. ‘No,’ he said, and he didn’t even know why he couldn’t go home without Ignis. Ignis was okay. He’d be okay. ‘No,’ he said again, because he couldn’t leave without him, couldn’t leave him here, on his own, go back and sleep in his bed while Ignis was halfway across the city without him—

‘He’s been through a lot,’ his dad was saying, but the words barely made it through the roar in Noctis’ head. And anyway he knew Ignis had been through a lot, he’d been there, he’d seen it.

‘I don’t care,’ Noctis said, and realised as he said it that it was selfish and childish and he meant it anyway, because there was no way he’d leave without Ignis.

What if something happened? What if they came back and hurt Ignis again?

What if they came for him, and Ignis wasn’t there to protect him?

‘Noctis,’ his dad said, soft and reproachable in a sort of way he never was, because he was giving in. ‘Noctis, he needs rest after what happened.’

Please,’ Noctis said, clutched at his dad’s sleeve harder. ‘He can get rest; I just need to see him. He needs to see me. He was — he—’

He was begging for them to let him keep hurting himself, he tried to say but couldn’t. The words stuck in his throat like thorns. Breathing around them hurt. Swallowing hurt.

‘Shhh,’ his dad was saying again, wrapping an arm around him and pulling him in close. The smell of his cologne raked down Noctis’ throat. ‘We’ll ask his doctor what she says, whether we can see him or not. But Ignis’ well-being has to be our priority.’

‘I know,’ Noctis said. But seeing Ignis was for Ignis’ well-being. Ignis would want to see him, just as much as he wanted to see Ignis. That had to be right. Ignis would always want to see him.

He pulled away, and, without thinking, a habit from nervous energy, pulled his phone from the armiger. Oh. He shoved it back in again. ‘They gave me something, I guess,’ Noctis said. ‘I couldn’t access the armiger or anything. Ignis couldn’t either. It… I guess it’s worn off by now.’

His dad was almost definitely frowning, so Noctis didn’t look up at him. Instead he got his phone out again and unlocked it, checking his messages. There were lots — from Prompto, Gladio, his dad, Cor. Mostly from Prompto, he saw, scrolling through them. Prompto hadn’t known what was up except that they’d been planning on meeting and then Prompto had been stood up, until he’d eventually told to go home. His messages were a string of confusion and jokes turning to concern, turning to fear masked with more jokes. His last was: Gladio said something was up but couldnt say what. hope youre ok dude tell me when you can

Noctis stared at it before typing up an answer. I’m good, Ignis too. I’ll tell you more later, sorry

It didn’t really feel satisfying. He locked his phone again before Prompto could read the text and reply. He didn’t want to have to tell Prompto anything. Not yet. He’d say it later. And probably there was going to be an official story so he had to keep to that — at least over text, anyway.

‘Why didn’t you tell anyone?’

Had his dad really been waiting for Noctis to lock his phone so he couldn’t pretend to be distracted? ‘I don’t know,’ he said, mumbling, still looking at his phone’s blank screen. ‘Didn’t think of it.’

‘What sort of thing was it? An injection, or…?’

‘I don’t know. I don’t know, okay. It was… I mean I can’t remember them actually giving me anything but I couldn’t… I guess they must have done it when I was out or something.’

‘Are you sure it was something done directly to you? Only, I’m aware that there are reports of Niflheim technology that can block the crystal’s magic for anything within its sphere of influence. It may have been that.’

‘Oh,’ Noctis said. ‘I guess. Maybe. I don’t know. I still couldn’t in the hospital, I don’t think. Just after I arrived. But maybe I was doing it wrong or not trying properly, I don’t know.’

Had it been that? He’d just assumed it had been an injection or something, because… he didn’t know. He didn’t want to think about it.

‘Can you remember?’

‘No,’ Noctis said, with more force than he meant, but it didn’t matter because why wouldn’t his dad just get off his back? He didn’t remember, so why did it even matter? It had already worn off. It literally didn’t matter any more.

They lapsed back into silence. After a moment, his dad said: ‘Noctis, I have a change of clothes for you. Why don’t you shower and get changed? Or I have pyjamas. You can have a sleep while we’re waiting.’

Noctis was half ready to say, I’m not tired, when he realised that he was — he was exhausted. He wanted that sudden prospect of bed and sleep more than anything. And his dad would be there.

More than anything — except—

‘Ignis,’ Noctis said, instead. ‘I want to see him.’

‘It may be a few more hours before he’s out of surgery,’ his dad said. ‘I can see you’re ready to drop off where you’re sitting. I promise I’ll wake you as soon as there’s news of him.’

Hours. He didn’t think he could last that long. He wanted to see Ignis, but… his dad was here. And he’d said Ignis would be okay. He said he’d wake him.

The four of them moved into a spare room, and Noctis showered, got changed into his pyjamas, and curled up in the bed. His dad sat next to him, pulling the chair as close as it would get. A doctor came around and took a sample of Noctis’ blood while he lay there, eyes drifting shut, loose-limbed and already half gone. ‘Just in case,’ his dad said, his hand on Noctis’, holding it while the doctor fussed over him. They dimmed the lights; Noctis fell asleep.
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February 2020

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