Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

At times, not being able to see whatever horror was currently plaguing him felt like a mercy. He would honestly be perfectly content to never have another monster described in painful detail to him. But John seemed set on sharing every horror they encountered with him. It was only fair, he supposed.

So came John’s needlessly thorough description of the creature currently in front of Arthur- A large dark green and brown scaly beast at least twenty feet tall, slimy goo coating the surface of its skin, razor-sharp claws protruding from its- hand? Paw? large jagged sharp rows of teeth in its huge maw, big glassy eyes on either side of its mouth- which was less useful and more panic inducing. Arthur was trying desperately not to think too closely on the details of the monster, instead running toward a meager shelter of rocks in order to put any barrier between him and it. 

He scrabbled on the ground desperately for some sort of defence. He had no weapon, though he knew that even if he did it would hardly do anything against this creature. He finally found some purchase on a couple stones that he threw blindly in the direction of the creature.

Arthur! Du-

A whoosh of air behind him and then something pierced his stomach- right through. He was skewered on a claw. 

He attempted a cry of pain that ended in a choking cough. He could feel his body being lifted up off the ground. John was screaming at him telling him to move. Where could he possibly move? He was hanging off a monster's claw. 

Arthur! It's lifting us to its mouth! Jesus its teeth- wait Arthur! Its front tooth here looks loose, I think from the rocks you threw! Help me pull it!

With a groan and a surge of adrenaline he didn’t know he had, Arthur reached out and pulled with all his might on the tooth. Its sides were jagged and rough, cutting his hands when he grabbed it. He ignored the fresh pain and pulled.

The monster above them roared and tried shaking Arthur off of it, the added momentum resulted in a wet POP and Arthur could feel the tooth in his hands. 

Yes Arthur!! Here, to your left! We’re right by its eye. We can stab it with the tooth. Ready, one two-!

Arthur swung his “weapon” in front of him. It collided with something squishy with a sickening squelch. The creature roared in agony in time with John’s exclamation of triumph. The monster flailed around in a pained panic and flung Arthur off of its claw. There was a moment of breathtaking weightlessness before he crashed into the hard stone ground.

Every bone in his body rattled with the force of the fall. He heard more than felt several sharp snaps from inside him. All of the oxygen was forced from his lungs and it was agonizing to take more in. His ears were ringing and parts of his body felt fuzzy, like he almost couldn’t feel them. There was a sharper point of agony that stood out from the rest of the pain, his stomach. 

The burning and throbbing of his stomach became more acute as the adrenaline that had been pumping through him dissipated. He could feel warm blood dripping, gushing from his stomach and pooling on the ground. There were parts of his insides exposed to cold stinging air they should never feel. It felt like his guts were leaking out of him. 

Open your eyes, I can’t see the creature.

He did so.

Oh! It’s clawing at its eyes, the tooth is still in there! Yes! Good aim, Arthur! It seems to have forgotten us for now, it's stumbling in the opposite direction. To your left is a grouping of tall rocks. We can hide behind it for a moment. Come on, let's move.

He didn’t want to move. He wanted to lay there until his body stopped its pain. He wanted to never be able to feel anything ever again. But instead he groaned and turned enough to half crawl half pull himself  to the rocks. 

It couldn’t have taken longer than a couple minutes to reach their shelter but by the time he collapsed against the structure his whole body was screaming at him, cursing him for every movement, every breath. 

He had once thought that there was nothing after death. No sort of afterlife, a heaven or hell. Just nothing. At the time the thought had filled him with despair and fear. 

Now he wished that he had been right.

How he longed for nothingness. 

Oh, shit Arthur. This looks bad…

Arthur tried to listen to John cataloguing his wounds, explaining them to him as if he couldn’t feel them.

But John’s voice was drowned out by a steady buzzing in his ears. His body felt weak, depleted. He just wanted… to slip away…

-ur. Arthur. ARTHUR!

He groaned as he was brought back to the present.

I know I’m sorry. It must hurt. Here, we have to put pressure on-

If Arthur had thought he couldn’t be in any more pain he was mistaken. All of the sudden he was being stabbed- by the witch by the beast by Kellin- He screamed out with all of the strength he had remaining. His lungs failed him and he choked on it, tears streaming down his face and the buzzing in his ears intensifying for a moment. 

John was frantically apologizing to him, assuring him it would help. Assuring him he would be ok.

He didn’t want to be ok. He didn’t want to get better.

He just wanted to end. 

Arthur. I have an idea. You aren’t going to like it though.

Of course. 

I think… you still have the lighter right? 

John’s hand brushed against him as he reached for the lighter in his pocket. 

God. 

What could possibly be his idea?

I think we can burn the wound closed. Cauterize it. 

A hysterical laugh escaped Arthur.

He couldn’t- he couldn’t be serious. 

I’m sorry Arthur but… you are losing a lot of blood and the lighter is all we have on us right now. I think it might be our only option. 

You could let me die

Arthur…

Oh. Had he said that out loud? 

John squeezed his hand gently. Blessedly, he didn't say anything. He didn’t point out how Arthur was already dead. He didn’t point out that dying hadn’t solved anything. 

“Sorry”, he mumbled.

Let’s just… let’s eat the elephant alright? Just fix this wound and then we’ll figure things out. 

What choice did he have.

“Okay.” 

Okay.

The lighter clicked as John flicked it open.

Chapter Text

For his entire life, pain had been Arthur's close companion. Both the physical and emotional. They followed him like stray dogs. At times they wandered far behind him, at a distance far enough he could almost forget they were there. Other times they nipped at his heels, anxious to make themselves known. 

All that to say Arthur knew pain. 

So much that one would have thought he would be used to it by now.

Life was full of surprises.

Arthur threw his head back against the rock behind him and screamed.

John was muttering empty platitudes and promises to him as he pressed the flame of the lighter against his stomach.

The combination of the pain of his stomach wound and the burning flame was an odd feeling. An agonizing feeling. 

The smell of burning flesh filled his mouth, he gagged and retched forward.

John prodded at him to keep his eyes open.

It was hard when they were so full of tears.

Finally, John dropped the lighter and grasped for Arthur's limp hand.

It’s over, it’s done. I’m sorry I’m so sorry. You did great Arthur, I’m sorry. It’s done.

John’s voice echoed around his mind. Too loud, too far away, too much, not enough.

Arthur burned and ached and throbbed. He was bruised and battered and scratched and cracked. Old injuries sang with new.

And he could feel every single one of them.

John’s hand reached up and wiped away his tears. Arthur hadn’t even realized they’d fallen. He let his friend’s hand cradle his face gently. He couldn’t help but lean into the comforting touch.

Comforting touch.

Such a foreign idea that a touch could be non-threatening. 

How do you feel?

“It hurts. All of it… it just…”

When did his voice become so small and broken?

“I just wish…”

God, to stop feeling.

What do you wish?

“I wish it would stop.”

A squeeze.

Oh Arthur. 

And for a moment, it did.

* * * * * * * 

The world stopped. All was still.

At least as far as John was concerned. 

Passing out on the ground in the middle of the dark world wasn’t ideal of course, but he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t glad that Arthur had been granted a brief respite. God knew he deserved it.

I wish it would stop.

Arthur never failed to shatter his heart.

John exhaled shakily, forcing himself to dwell on something else.

His hand ghosted over Arthur’s chest. Even from inside the man’s body, the damage and abuse to it was painfully evident. His hand lingered on old scars, Arthur felt battered, broken-

No, though he was a tattered tapestry of old scars and new wounds, Arthur could never be described as broken. 

Though he did need help.

The wound was closed for now, but that didn’t mean they were out of the woods yet. They needed a place to rest- really rest, not just faint on the ground. They needed somewhere to regroup and talk. 

You could let me die.

Let me die.

Yes, they needed to talk.

John drifted his hand over the large wound in Arthur’s stomach, he felt it as gently as he could.

Arthur awoke with a startled, pained gasp that devolved into a coughing fit.

He scrambled away from against the rock where he’d been propped up, pushing away John's hand.

“No no no no please no please stop-”

In his haste to get away from whatever threat he thought was attacking them he brushed his arm against his stomach.

Arthur heaved to the side, retching and convulsing on the ground.

Arthur! Arthur stop, it’s me. It’s ok!

“John, John!”

He was choking and gasping on the air.

Stop Arthur. Breathe, breathe we’re safe.

Well. Relatively.

After a bit of coaxing Arthur finally managed to get his breathing right.

He slowly sat back on the ground. 

“Sorry. Sorry I- sorry.”  

John rubbed firm circles into his chest. He made sure to keep his hand high enough so as not to upset Arthur again. 

John let Arthur gather himself for a moment.

Arthur. We need to find a place for you to rest.

A small hum.

“I am… I’m resting here. I- we can rest here”

John sighed. 

I don’t think that’s a good idea Arthur. It’s- we’re too out in the open. Too vulnerable. We need to get to somewhere safe.

“And where do you suggest, John.”

Snappy, annoyed. But annoyed was better than pained.

Ahead of us just a little ways the wasteland ends and becomes a mountain range. I can see a cave near the base of the nearest mountain. I can’t promise it will be safe but… it’s better than being out here.

There was a moment of silence.

“How far?”

Not too far, just a short walk. It won’t be too difficult.

Arthur let out a weary sigh.

“Alright.”

* * * * * * * 

It took no small effort for Arthur to get to his feet. Eventually he managed to pull himself up huffing and gasping. He swayed for a terrible moment before taking a tentative step forward, then another, and then he was on his way.

John praised him for each step.

Though calling them steps would be generous, it was more like a painful shuffle forward. His legs ached and every movement rattled his broken ribs and burned stomach. 

The walk was not long, as John had promised. But every moment drug on like hours, days, years. 

He’d walked a lifetime by the time they reached the cave.

Arthur swayed in the opening, allowing John to assess the area.

The mouth of the cave where they stood opened up to a small cavern, enough light flooded through the opening so that John could see clearly but it was still sheltered and hidden. There was a small stream running through the middle of the space and from a passage at the back.

Though it probably would be wise to explore the rest of the cave, Arthur was in no shape to. They would have to make do.

He limped to the nearest wall and lowered himself with as much care as possible. 

God it all hurt.

He laid there motionless on the ground, the only sound the little stream as it ran through the cavern and pooled against the wall. 

His thoughts were coming slower, drifting away from him like they were floating through fog. 

Everything around him was fading in and out. His various injuries still throbbed but the pain felt farther away than before. He could feel a heat burning underneath his skin. His breath was coming slower and slower.

And through it all he could feel a firm pressure on his chest. Grounding him, comforting him. Assuring him that despite everything, he was not alone.

You’ve done so well, Arthur. I’m so proud of you. You can stop now. You can rest, friend.

Chapter Text

The city lights were beautiful.

That had to be his favorite thing about living here, seeing the lights of the city and how they shone at night. Like hundreds of fireflies dancing below his window.

He loved this time of night, Faroe just asleep in bed (after much coaxing), the slight chill of the night air that was just pleasant enough that a person didn’t have to grab another layer, the noises of the city, quieter now that most of it slept but still moving. And the lights.

He took a drag of his cigarette just as a car horn blared below followed by a fair bit of cursing. He startled, dropping his cigarette. He sighed and turned back inside. The peace of the night was ruined. Probably best to get ready for bed anyway. 

He hummed a new tune that he’d been toying with as he went through his nightly routine. He just about had the melody down, but it was missing something. It felt like it was just in front of him and he could reach out and grasp it if he could only see it.

It bothered him.

Almost as much as the heat was bothering him. Had the room always been this hot? It almost felt like the temperature had gone up as he was getting ready for bed. Whatever the case, it wasn’t too uncommon to have the odd hotter night, even if it was autumn now. It was no matter, he’d just open the window.

As he did Arthur took the opportunity to stick out his head to get a breath of the night air. But he paused.

Smoke?

No, not smoke but… heat?

There was no way to explain it but the air smelled hot, muggy. Oppressive almost.

That was odd… but there could be a number of reasons the air outside smelled… hot.

He turned to his bed but couldn’t quite shake a feeling of unease. Something was off.

As his worry increased so did the smell or- feeling? From outside, or was it inside?

He couldn’t think straight.

He needed to sit he needed- 

Faroe.

A sudden anxiety washed over him.

His baby, was she alright? She had to be. He had to be sure.

He sprang up and to the door, opening it to reveal a wall of fire.

The entire apartment was up in flames.

And Faroe was somewhere in there, where he’d left her.

Arthur had no thought for his own safety, his one thought being on his daughter. He ran through the blaze.

His skin sizzled and boiled, the air was heavy and impossible to breathe. He hurried down the hall. The walls were crumbling down around him, the apartment seemingly on the verge of collapse.

Faroe

He screamed her name until his throat was raw.

He tried desperately to reach her, but for some strange reason he couldn't find her.

He couldn’t remember what room she was in. Why did they have so many rooms anyway? He tried each door down the long hallway though all of them just opened up to more fiery infernos. 

Where was she?

Faroe?

He was frantic. Was the air getting harder to breathe or were his lungs tightening on their own? His whole body ached and burned from the fire. He could feel it underneath his skin, like the fire was inside of him. 

That wouldn’t stop him though.

Faroe.

He had to find her-

Faroe!

He had to save her.

Faroe! Please, Faroe!

Because he couldn’t before-

FAROE!

* * * * * * * 

Arthur jerked out of sleep violently.

Gasping, coughing, choking,

The air was too thick he couldn’t-

Arthur! Whats- whats going on? What happened what are you- you need to calm down, breathe so I can help you-

“Water” 

What?

“Water” , he croaked, pushing himself off the wall behind him. The movement jostled every injury in his body but he didn’t care. He needed water. He was burning alive. He was suffocating.

Okay, okay yes just in front of you, there! There… 

Arthur dropped by the side of the stream, covering any exposed skin he could with the cool water before drinking hungrily.

The water was the sweetest thing he had ever tasted. It soothed his scratched, raw throat and filled his hollow stomach in a way he wasn’t used to. It was cool and heavenly against his skin.

Slow down, Arthur. Don’t make yourself sick.

It was such a silly thing to say that Arthur laughed and choked on his next sip. Though that only deterred him for a moment before he continued drinking greedily. How could John expect him to go slowly when he couldn’t remember the last time he was able to drink his fill of water, and even longer since the water was clean . So he would continue to consume the sweet nectar before him.

As it turned out, John’s fears were not unfounded. 

As he finally lifted his head up, he became aware of the queasiness in his stomach. 

Jesus Arthur. Finally, are you done? We have to-

Arthur promptly fell to his side and vomited all of the water he had managed to get into his system. John was barely able to hold him up with his arm, as Arthur’s own had gone out under the strain. His fractured ribs decided to make themselves known at that moment, causing the whole ordeal to be even more painful. After he’d emptied his only recently filled stomach, Arthur continued to retch and gag onto the stone beneath him.

Finally, he crumbled to the side, still trembling forcefully. His breaths came out in short wheezes but at least he was breathing. 

Fucking Hell Arthur. What was that?

“Sorry. 'M sorry.”

He put a hand over his stomach. It was still hot to the touch though it felt better after putting cool water over it. He should get more once his body settled…

John sighed and cupped Arthur’s cheek gently. Arthur leaned into it gratefully.

Would it be dumb to ask you… how you’re feeling?

Arthur gave a short laugh that ended in a wince as the movement pulled on his injuries.

“I’m uh. Not feeling well I suppose. Everything, it all hurts a bit. My body aches all over and my ribs are cracked so breathing doesn’t feel too good. And I feel quite a bit dizzy… And my stomach of course.”

He shifted a little, trying and failing to find a slightly more comfortable position. 

“I can feel where I got stabbed, my insides feel like they were… moved to the side. It’s a bit uncomfortable. And the skin… It’s hot, I can still feel the lighter on my skin and it burns so much-”

Sorry, John cut in quickly. I'm sorry It must hurt- I didn't even think, I was just trying to think of some way to stop the bleeding and all we had was-

“No no, it’s ok I understand.” He took John’s hand in his own and squeezed it tightly. “You did what you had to. It’s fine, it just… well hurts a bit. But not as much as if we’d let me bleed to death.”

He’d meant it as a joke, but John hummed in concern.

Is there… Arthur, Is there anything I can do to help?

And he sounded so worried- so sincere, that it hurt Arthur’s heart. (Another thing to hurt, just what he needed.)

“Well, I think I should put more of this water on my wound and I suppose I should drink some because I… lost what I drank before.”

Right. Yes we’ll go slowly this time.

“Right. And then I should go back to the wall and rest… I think that would do me good. And then we’ll…”

He trailed off. His thoughts escaped him.

…Eat the elephant?

Arthur couldn’t help the smile that pulled on his lips. “Yes. Let’s take it one bite at a time.”

* * * * * * * 

Or, one sip at a time.

John didn’t need to remind Arthur to drink slower and less this time around, it seemed the lesson had been learned. But the small act of drinking and splashing some water onto his injuries seemed to have tired him out. John led them carefully back to the wall.

Once Arthur was settled, John put his hand on his chest and rubbed it comfortingly, slowly.

They sat there in each other’s company for several moments before the silence finally got to John and he had to voice the question that had been weighing so desperately on his mind. 

Arthur. Can I ask you something?

He had to ask it calmly, tactfully. 

“Of course, friend.”

Do you want to die?

Not like that.

Arthur coughed once before answering.

“...What? John we… we did die. Don’t you remember?”

No I- yes I remember. I just mean… earlier you said… well you told me to let you die. And I’ve just been wondering what you meant by that.

“Oh.”

The silence stretched on for hours in the next couple of seconds.

“I’m sorry John, I just. Well I was in a lot of pain- still am, ha. But I was- it was hard to really think beyond that pain and, well, all I could think of was how I wished it would stop. The hurt, the emotions… everything.”

Now it was John’s turn for an Oh.

“Yes. So I just wanted it to end. To die if that makes sense.”

Ah. So. Do you… Do you still feel that way? Do you still want everything to stop?

Do you still want to die?

* * * * * * * 

What a question.

He’d felt sadness, despair and pain at times so deep that he felt only death would bring release, but there were only five definite times in his life he could remember really truly wanting to die. 

Upon discovering the death of his parents.

The moment he lost Faroe

When John was taken from him.

After being thrown into the forest under castle Kerringford.

And when all his feelings and pain of his whole life had finally caught up with him as he lay in the dark world.

But did he still?

No. He didn’t want to die. He was dead and that hadn't solved anything.

He wanted nothing. He wished for nothing. For a cold- no, it wouldn’t be cold, he wouldn’t be able to feel it- silent nothing. For pure emptiness and an abyssal void.

For everything to stop. And never to start again.

“I don’t know.”

Because how could he possibly voice his true thoughts to this being- this friend - who had sacrificed so much for him? It wouldn’t be fair.

“It’s all just so… much”

 It was so much. The weight of the world was on top of him. Everything depended on them. They didn’t have time to rest.

But oh, was he tired.

He could feel his eyelids sagging. His body felt heavy. His mind had begun to get fuzzy at the edges, telling him he needed to sleep. He let out a yawn.

Ok Arthur. Thank you. We can talk more later, ok? I’ll let you sleep now. 

“Ok John. Goodnight.”

Goodnight Arthur. Have sweet dreams.

Chapter Text

The still silent air was almost peaceful.

On the surface, all was calm. The cave was cool and clean. The only sounds that could be heard were the bubbling from the nearby stream and Arthur’s sleep-heavy breathing. A sliver of light illuminated the room from the threshold, and one could almost pretend that the light came from the sun. 

But once he poked a little deeper, the illusion of peace shattered, and John remembered that they were not safe here. They could be attacked at any time by any number of creatures from outside. The water rippling by looked clean, but there was no real way for him to tell. It could be poisoned or bad or not even water- it could be drool from a huge terrible beast. One that was ready to attack at any moment, one that wouldn’t hesitate to kill Arthur-

He couldn’t think like that. That was a nonsensical train of thought. Arthur was here, he was breathing. He was with him.

But for how long?

How long had he been sleeping? What if he never woke up? What if the damage to his body ran deeper and they’d missed it? What if Arthur lapsed into a coma forever or what if Kayne-

Arthur shifted and mumbled something in his sleep. John could feel his face scrunch up briefly in pain before settling back into his dreams.

Or nightmares. More likely they were nightmares.

John sighed and rested his hand over Arthur’s chest. He didn’t have any idea how long Arthur had been resting for. To him it felt like an eternity, though all the times he’d had to sit idly by in Arthur’s mind while he rested had felt like eternities. He didn’t like being alone with his thoughts.

Over the course of the past couple… hours? He’d fallen into the same cycles of panic over and over and over again. Fear gripping his incorporeal form as thoughts and realizations of how truly fragile Arthur was overtook him. 

He had to remind himself that Arthur was not fragile. He’d gotten through so many things, so many worse things, and he’d survived-

He’d… he had gotten through them.

John slowly moved his hand over Arthur’s body, taking stock of his numerous scars. All of them testaments to his strength and bravery, and yes sometimes stupidity. 

He paused over the jagged line across Arthur’s neck before quickly moving on. He couldn’t linger there. 

Arthur moved again, whispering a name that almost sounded like his own.

It was laced with pain.

John’s heart cracked and he gently put his hand on Arthur’s cheek, mumbling comforts until Arthur’s breath took on the slow quality of sleep. 

He didn’t want to think of the nightmare Arthur was in. He hoped it wasn’t too terrible. He hoped that if he was there in the dream with Arthur, he would be able to offer some comfort. Though he doubted the dark world would let them even have that. 

All he could really do was try and grant Arthur some comfort in the waking world. He adjusted them a little gently, though there really wasn’t much to do. He ran a hand over Arthur’s newest wound, being sure his touch was light and unthreatening. The wound still burned like he had just pressed the lighter to it. That wasn’t good. He needed to put more water on it, to soothe it. He wished they had something to use as bandages. The only fabric they carried with them was the thin jumpsuit Arthur wore, and they could hardly use that. It was already torn and bloodied, hardly offering the comfort and protection it had first granted them when he’d put it on. 

Nothing gold can stay, John thought bitterly. 

* * * * * * * 

Arthur was drowning.

Or rather, he was sinking.

It wasn’t painful, being under the water. He had thought it might be. A distant memory told him it should be, told him he should be choking and panicking and dying as he descended into the depths below. But he was calm. The farther down he sank the less pain he was in. Things moved slower, better down here.

Down through the cold, black water into an endless abyss. He had to make it all the way down, to the bottom. 

The bottom was safe, it was freedom. It was painless. It was a glorious end. And he was so close- I can feel it, just a little farther-

But every time he got close something would pull him up up up toward the surface.

He couldn’t go up there. Arthur knew that if he were to break the surface up above then something terrible would happen. Above wasn’t safe, above was painful.

So he’d continue down as far as he could before he’d be pulled up again. Over and over, for as long as it took. He wouldn’t give up.

He hovered in the water for a moment. He was drifting somewhere in the middle between surface and floor. Arthur shivered.

The water was cold. 

It wasn’t so bad at the bottom, the coldness numbed out into a quiet fuzzy feeling and it took his pain with it. He could hardly feel anything down there. Arthur loved it.

But if he neared the top, the cold and pain would seep back in, traveling all the way to his bones. Everything felt rigidly, painfully real. He didn’t enjoy that feeling as much. 

But he was being pulled up again, like a fish on a hook. Something forcing him to the surface of the water. 

Arthur couldn’t help the panic that seeped in. He didn’t want to go up, he didn’t want to know what was above the water. It would be painful, it would hurt him and he didn’t want to be hurt. So he thrashed and fought with all his might to no avail. 

And with that he was yanked violently out of the water.

* * * * * * * 

The air was thin and quick, escaping him as he tried to suck oxygen into his lungs. Everything was loud and overwhelming yet far too still. There was ground beneath him- hard unyielding stone. He was freezing but he was burning and he couldn’t stop shivering. 

Too much, too much!

Stop! Let me sink, let me drown.

He tried desperately to move, to fight back, but every part of him ached.

Something was pressing him down, trapping him. Fighting him.

Arthur stop! Stop!

He couldn’t stop, he had to keep going. Keep fighting, he had to be free-

ARTHUR! Dammit, wake up! snap out of it!

He came to himself again, though it felt like a thick fog was covering his mind. Thoughts were slow and hazy. 

Jesus not again. Why do you have to wake up like that?

John sounded… angry? At him? Oh… he hadn’t meant to make John mad. He didn’t like when John was mad.

“ Sorry-” He coughed, his voice was thin and raspy.

John sighed.

It took longer for you to… wake up fully, that time. You were fighting me and you wouldn’t- you wouldn’t take a fucking breath.

“Sorry…”

I was scared for you, Arthur. You were shaking- you still are shaking…

“I’m sorry J-”

Stop! Stop saying “Sorry”- it- you shouldn’t be apologizing. I should… 

His words ended in a growl.

Arthur had to bite his tongue to keep from apologizing again.

An uncomfortable silence passed.

Anyway. Um. How are you feeling now?

Softer now. More careful, as much as John could be careful.

It took a moment for his words to reach Arthur through the fog.

“Not- n-not good.”

The words hung in the air for a moment. 

Do you care to elaborate.

“‘M head hurts and it’s heavy… stom- mach hurts too… So cold, can’t st-stop shiv-ering… and fuck I’m nauseos. I wanna vomit.. Ugh..”

Are you going to? Vomit?

“Don’t think so. I… don’t have anything left in me.”

A sudden, unbidden tear slipped its way down Arthur’s cheek. 

“I’m empty.”

He was hollow and abandoned. There was nothing left but aching pain.

John reached up and wiped Arthur’s tear from his cheek before taking his hand in his own and pressing both to Arthur’s chest.

I’m sorry Arthur.

He didn't respond, just allowed himself to feel the warmth of John’s hand.

God he was so cold.

Do you think you can move?

No. 

But for John… he would try.

“With some help.”

* * * * * * * 

John practically dragged Arthur over to the stream with his one arm. By the time they reached the water, Arthur was shaking and gasping from the herculean amount of effort of crawling a few feet over. This did not help John’s panic. 

He supported Arthur as he reached down to drink.

Slowly.

He hadn’t needed to say that, Arthur could barely move as it was. Everything was done slowly. 

Once Arthur had his fill, John let him lay down while he ran the cool water over Arthur’s wound. He hissed on the contact.

“Ugh that’s c-cold. So cold.”

The stream was cool, refreshing. But it was not “cold”. Arthur shouldn’t be shivering so much, and the last time he was awake hadn’t he complained of being hot? 

“ C-cold…”

John ran his hand over Arthur’s body, gentle but firm. Rubbing some heat into his skin. It was paradoxical, Arthur was burning to the touch, yet he was shivering beneath his hand. That was… definitely a concern.

He pushed the thought to the side. He could think of that later, right now he would provide Arthur all the comfort he could.

“Th-thank you, John.”

Arthur’s hand on his.

“You take such good care of me.”

I… You’re welcome, Arthur. I love you.

“Love you… too…”

He was drifting again, though he’d barely been awake.

John squeezed Arthur’s hand and let the silence lapse between them. 

Until a low growl echoed from the passage in front of them.

Chapter Text

Everything went impossibly still. 

John tightened his grip on Arthur’s hand.

Arthur…

Arthur yawned. 

“John?”

You didn’t… Did you hear that? 

“Hear what, friend?”

Completely unbothered. Arthur’s voice was quiet, tired. He was clearly out of it. John was on his own now, but that didn’t matter. He would do whatever he had to to protect Arthur-

“Maybe… it was the wind.”

He hesitated for a moment.

Yes… Maybe. Arthur, do you think you can stand up and go over to check? Just to… make sure.

Arthur didn’t move.

I just want to be sure that you’re safe. Please Arthur, it would help.

“O-okay, sure lets…”

He trailed off as he moved to try and get his legs under him. He let out a pained noise as the movement pulled on his wound.

“F-f-fuck…”

C’mon Arthur, you can do this!

The next few moments were filled with struggling and gasps of pain as Arthur struggled to get up. He made it all the way to his knees before stopping.

“I can’t, John. I can’t.”

You’re so close! Just get up so we can check the cave.

“J-John I know b-but… I don’t think I can… move… It hurts-”

DAMMIT ARTHUR! ENOUGH OF THIS!

He snapped. John roared through Arthur’s mind, pounding against the walls that trapped him. Arthur cried out and clutched his head as he fell forward. The little progress they had made destroyed. John’s rage doubled.

Are you kidding me here Arthur? You can’t even get up! I thought you were stronger than this. I thought you cared about our survival, Arthur! Now what? Are we just going to sit here and let some monster tear us apart because you couldn’t get up? ARE YOU?

No response. 

He scoffed.

It’s like you want us dead. After all I’ve done-

“Sorry, John…”

It was barely more than a whisper. Tiny and weak. And yet it immediately cut off John’s rampage. 

Guilt overtook John and he couldn’t help but sigh. 

It’s… alright.

It’s not alright. Nothing about this situation is possibly alright.

It’s not your fault.

Arthur reached for John’s hand, giving it an admittedly weak squeeze.

“It’s not your fault either. You’re just trying to keep us safe. You do keep us safe. Thank you.”

You’re wel-

He was cut off by a yawn that formed into a quiet coughing fit. John rubbed his hand over Arthur’s chest, waiting for the fit to pass. 

He sighed and curled a little tighter on the floor.

Are you alright?

Stupid question.

“Yes, just… tired…mm..”

His words were slurring and his movements were slow. 

It’s alright. R-rest. We’ll figure things out later, when you wake up.

“Alright. G’night John.”

He was out almost immediately, leaving John alone in the quiet with his anxiously spiraling thoughts.

And a distant but concerningly closer growl. 

* * * * * * * 

It didn’t take long for John to make up his mind. There were really only two things he could do, sit here and wait for whatever creature shared this cave to come and attack Arthur’s prone body, or get up and do something about it.

He chose the latter. 

He had to project himself. It was the only way to protect both of them. Consequences… consequences be damned. 

So as the beast beyond the caverns' heavy footsteps and ferocious growls grew closer, John gathered himself to defend. 

The moment the glimpse of red fur crossed the threshold, John projected out of his human’s body with his entire strength. The body below him woke with a startled, pained gasp.

John roared with all his ferocity at the beast, who took a step back in surprise, but ultimately stood its ground. 

The beast before him was an unusual sight. It was almost a cross between a wolf and a lion, with sharp rows of teeth in its large mouth and sharp claws that scratched the floor as it took a step. The beast had thick, dark red fur like the color of blood- Blood. Arthur’s blood- soaking through his thin clothes, painting the ground beneath him in a crimson mural of agony- No, that won’t happen. John won’t let it.

The beast recovered from its initial shock, giving an answering roar at John as he began to bound forward. John rushed forward to meet it, grabbing the creature and throwing it against the cavern wall with all of his strength. The beast shrieked as the wall behind it cracked from the force of the through.

Without giving the thing time to recovery, John was at it again, delivering powerful blows into the creature.

The beast was big, but so was John. It swiped it's claws towards John through it never reached him.

He was stronger than this beast.

The poor thing had given up on fighting back and now was only focused on escape. In a moment between the heavy assaults being delivered by the fractured king, the creature rushed towards the opening at the front of the cave.

One paw made it through the opening before John grabbed the beast's tail, flinging it as hard as he could towards the ground. The earth below shook and cracked, and the body was still.

John reached forward to feel between the coarse fur, searching for any signs of life below. None arose. 

Triumphant glee washed over John, he had done it! He’d protected them, he’d saved Arthur! He turned to say as much to his companion.

The victorious feelings drained as John laid eyes on Arthur. The man was trembling on the ground. He was breathing fast, faster than he’d ever seen before, barely inhaling any air. 

As John moved closer to the body, he could hear something. The traces of a whisper below Arthur’s quick breath. He could barely make it out-

“Stop. Please stop. J-john please- please stop. S-stop, please stop-” 

John allowed himself to melt back into the mortal body, the second their souls intertwined Arthur's voice rose from a whisper to a cry of pain and a shout for it to stop.

John frantically reached for Arthur’s hand squeezing it as he attempted comfort.

Arthur! Arthur, it’s o-ok. You’re ok. It‘s over, I-I beat it, ha.

He huffed a weak chuckle, though his words seemed to do little to calm Arthur's racing breaths. 

Here, here. Breathe slowly. It’s ok, it's ok. We’re ok, Arthur. We’re-

“N-not ok.”

The weak voice sliced through John with guilt.

“It- it hurts s-so much I… wan it to st-stop. Stop it, stop it hurts!”

I- Arthur, I did stop. It’s over now. It's ok. I'll take care of you, it’s going to be-

“No”

“Stop- it all. Hurts. L-let me die.”

“Stop the pain.”