Chapter Text
Cole woke up, groggily at first. He took deep breaths as his body slowly started to inform him of its state. Another deep breath was cut short into horrible coughs and he could taste blood on his lips. The fit took a while to settle, and the young boy curled into a ball as it went through him. As soon as it was over, he opened his eyes. Useless gesture, as he knew there was nothing to see. There was only the unending darkness that greeted him.
Cole tried to sit up, but another set of shivers and coughs took over him. He wanted so bad to yell for help, but when he opened his mouth he could only groan and wheeze. His mouth tasted like blood, after a while he had been too tired to drink moisture from the stones and so he had began to drink his own blood. His fingers hurt now from the desperate bites, and in the end his stomach hurt now worse from before. Cole felt through his thin and weak body, underneath the rags that his clothes had become. He knew it was still with him, he had hidden it from the templars. As he found the dagger in his trousers, Cole breathed a sigh of relief. As long as he had it, he was safe from harm.
That's what his hunger and thrist addled twelve year old mind told him, even as he felt another hunger pang hit his stomach. He had entertained thoughts of using it on himself when he felt the worst. To end the pain and in his own terms. But every time he was about to reach for the dagger, Cole remembered the bad day and he regained some of his courage. No, he would not kill himself and give his father satisfaction beyond the grave. He would get out of here and he would survive, his mother's dagger was all the quarantee he needed. Cole breathed again, this time only wheezing.
He had no concept of time in his dark cell, only the respite of sleep and the rare moments when he woke to seek any sustenance he could. Cole groaned and tried to heave himself up again, managing to support himself just a bit with his hand, before he felt them give out. But as they did, he didn't fall back to the hard floor. Something was supporting him.
Someone was supporting him.
Cole tensed, trying to reach for his dagger and cut whatever held him. But then he coughed another fit, and felt a hand touch his head. Cole's heart began to pound hard in his chest, he didn't see anyone here with him.
"Shhh, little one, do not fear" came a voice, devoid of any accent or inflection. Cole winced, shaking. A demon? Maker, was a demon trying to come and make him an abomination now?
"I am no demon, little one. I heard your pain, I want to help" spoke the voice again, brushing Cole's hair. Cole wanted to push whatever was holding him away, but he couldn't move. Was the demon holding him down? Cole tried to move again, managing to shift his position in the creature's hands a bit. But that was all he could do. No, he was just tired. Too tired to care that he had not spoken a word yet the creature had answered him all the same. Cole thought of his mother and Bunny, smiling weakly. That seemed to excite the creature as Cole felt warmer in its arms.
"Warmth of her smile, she calls me by name. Cole, you are called Cole, little one?" the creature asked him. Cole tried to nod, managing to move his head a bit. Maybe this creature wasn't too bad after all, it had not hit him yet.
Yes, this was good, this was right. Cole relaxed, but startled as he felt the creature lift him up. Not hard, but it was still jarring. Cole looked around in the brief moment of clarity he had gained. Still nothing. He heard sharp claws scratch the cell walls.
"No locks, no keys. How to open the door?" it mused to Cole, holding him tightly still. Cole gave a weak groan, knowing there was no way to get out from the inside.
"Why does a door go one way, but not another?" was his answer, Cole really didn't care. He was safe in the arms of this thing.
The creature looked for a way out for a while, never letting go of Cole. It wanted to help him, clearly. But it didn't know how. Cole listened the creature work, growing more and more tired, his eyes closing slowly. The creature seemed to sense his sleep holding him closer.
"Cole, don't sleep. You won't wake from it. Let me help" it said, Cole chuckled tiredly. He took few breaths, as he felt sleep closing in on him.
"Thhannkkhh....... yoouuhh" he rasped, coughing again. The creature seemed to shake, Cole though he heard it say something more. But the comforting sleep overtook him.
Compassion watched as the little human, Cole, fell to the fade's dreams for the last time. It shook from fear, shaking the little body in its arms. But Cole was all ready with the Maker. Compassion hissed, its claws digging into the stony floor. It still could feel all the hurt and pain from Cole. How the old songed Templars had locked him here, how his father had hurt him. And how Cole had wanted to get out, had planned to get out. And had been so close, at least to Compassion.
"Damn their deaf ears, Maker damn them all" Compassion growled, thinking. It could not let Cole die and disappear, it could -not- let itself fall into despair. The spirit held the still warm body, drinking the fading memories. It was then it chose its direction. If it could not help Cole, it would take his form and fulfil his wish.
Compassion placed its invisible hand on Cole's forehead, drinking deep of the corpse. It drank as much as it could, taking all Cole was. But what Cole was was breaking, hurting. It hurt Compassion so much to know and feel what the little human had.
It never got to know when it had gotten enough, for the memory of the bad day broke it. It broke it, tore it apart from all the fear and despair. But it reformed, into the boy that now lay dead next to it. Compassion shook from the cold, eyes opening wide from fear.
Compassion had taken a gamble and won, but at a hefty price.