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A shrill beep makes Noctis open his eyes. His vision is still clouded as he takes in his surroundings. He’s kneeling on the floor in a small room. The walls are made out of bare concrete, the door in front of him is enforced with steel. A camera is placed on top of it, pointing at him, a small red light blinking rhythmically.
With a groan he’s trying to move, get some weight off his knees, but he can’t. Both his arms and legs are stuck in place. He looks down at himself as another loud beep pierces the silence.
He can’t see anything on himself or around him that could be the source of the sound, but there is something wrapped around his neck. It’s heavy and constricting, just tight enough that he won’t be able to forget about it. He already wants it off, but he doesn’t think he can manage that on his own.
Time goes by slowly. Noctis tries to remember where he’s been before, where his friends are. They’re probably already looking for him. He doesn’t think anyone could whisk him away without having Gladio and Ignis hot on their heels.
Except they can’t be. Noctis left them at the haven to restock their antidotes, being the only one not poisoned on their last hunt.
So he went to the next outpost. Things get a bit blurry there. He remembers getting the antidotes and storing them in the Armiger. He thinks he went somewhere else, to get some food maybe. Then there’s nothing much after that.
Someone must have drugged him. The one time he’s been alone, someone drugged him and dragged him off. Gladio will never let him hear the end of it.
He flexes his fingers, trying to pull something out of the Armiger, a dagger or something else he can try hiding behind is back. Nothing happens. The surprise helps clearing his head a little. He moves his hands around carefully, feeling for the edges of his bindings instead. It’s made of metal, sitting tightly around his wrists, just shy of cutting off the circulation. He can feel some creases, one probably a sleek key hole. So there’s no way he can wiggle out of them or break them open without help. Rolling his shoulders, he’s held back from moving up, so they are probably chained to the floor or the lower part of the wall behind him. He can’t reach, but he imagines the cuffs on his ankles are similar.
There’s nothing he can do like this, so he waits. He knows from his training, that they will probably let him stew for some time. The best he can do is not letting it get to him.
His eyes rise up to the camera again, meeting it dead on, but looking up with that thing around his neck is exhausting, so he lowers his head after a while.
There is no window, just some dusty tube lights above him. He has no idea how long he’s already been here or how long he’s been awake. It can’t be more than a few minutes, although the longer he thinks about it, the less sure he is.
The red light above the camera is blinking away carelessly.
He wonders what they want him to do, so they will stop this waiting game.
Picking a spot on the wall where the concrete is a little more chipped than in other places, Noctis keeps his eyes on it and lets his thoughts drift. It’s boring really, but he guesses the sooner he looks desolate, the sooner something will happen. His hands flex behind his back, trying again to get access to the Armiger, although he doesn’t know what would help him get out of his bonds without losing a hand in the progress. His magic doesn’t respond. He can feel the corners of his mouth twitch down, but he keeps his eyes on the wall. He tries figuring out what he does wrong, but he doesn’t think he’s doing anything different than usual. His grasp on magic isn’t as shaky as in the beginning of his training. He hasn’t had any trouble in the whole last year. There must be a different reason. Maybe the drugs they used to knock him out, maybe the thing around his neck.
Hours crawl by as he tries to keep himself busy. His sense of time leaves him with every red blink of the camera. His knees start to really hurt, then go numb, then hurt again in a seemingly endless circle. He thinks about how much money they should still have after he bought the curatives, trying to remember how much gas was still in their tank. It doesn’t matter how much he begs for a motel room after this is over if they simply can’t afford it. He thinks about a lot, what they still need to do before they can make their way to Altissia, the upcoming events in King’s Knight, the lures he still needs to try out properly, but his thoughts sooner or later come back to a motel room. With a real bed. Maybe one he doesn’t have to share or if he does, he’s allowed to pick sleeping next to Prompto who takes up basically zero space.
Even though his whole body aches by now, Noctis can feel his mind slowing. His friends have access to the antidotes through the Armiger, so they should be fine by now. They are probably already on his way to him. He needs to conserve his strength, if he wants to be of any use when they come to bust him free.
He lets his head roll onto his chest, his eyes slipping close. It’s still uncomfortable, but he’s managed to sleep in stranger places. His breathing deepens gradually as sleep reaches out for him.
Then there’s pain.
His muscles lock into place as an electric shock shoots through him. It’s only a moment, but it leaves him gasping for air with wide eyes.
Before he can even ask himself where it came from, the door in front of him opens.
He’s still trying to catch his breath as three people enter his cell. There’s barely enough space, so Noctis has to crane his head back to take a proper look at them.
It’s a woman clad in a white coat with a simple dress underneath and two men in scrubs following her in. Noctis guesses she’s around his father’s age. Her laughter lines become more visible, as she smiles down at Noctis. It looks genuine, making it only more off-putting.
“Your Highness, I’m so glad to finally meet you.”
Noctis keeps quiet, staring at her and her companions in turn. She doesn’t seem deterred.
“It’s my pleasure to inform you, that the test run was successful, so we can get acquainted after all. My name is Dr. Aegrum and I am overseeing your stay with us.”
She leaves a small pause, as if she’s expecting Noctis to introduce himself in turn.
“Your capture was quite unexpected. We’re awaiting your transportation in a few hours, but since we already have you here, Emperor Aldercapt is graciously letting us have you in our care for a little while longer.”
She takes out a pen from the breast pocket of her coat, clicking it open.
“I believe you can help us. We are tasked to secure Niflheim’s victory, but sadly there are a lot of people, that make it rather difficult for us.”
She taps at the paper on her clipboard.
“Lunafreya Nox-Fleuret, supposedly in possession of the Ring of the Lucii. I’ve been told you two have some unconventional means of communicating. Do you know her current location?”
Even if Noctis knew where exactly she is, he’d rather bite his tongue off than answer.
The woman tilts her head at him curiously before looking back at her clipboard.
“I understand you wish to protect your fiancée, so I won’t hold it against you. There are lots of other people you can help us with.”
She leafs through the papers clipped on it.
“Cor Leonis, Gladio Amicitia, Ignis Scientia, Prompto Argentum. These were involved in destroying one of our bases, right? Quite a feat with such a small number of fighters.”
Noctis just stares at her, his lips pressed into a thin line. It wasn’t a feat. It was easy. Just as easy as it will be to take this place apart as well. Noctis can’t wait.
She hums, looking up from her clipboard down to Noctis.
“If you’re unwilling to share any of their whereabouts as well, Iris Amicitia maybe?”
The words slip from Noctis’ mouth before he can even think about opening it.
“Go to hell.”
There’s a moment of silence. Noctis thinks this might not have been his smartest move.
Then Aegrum starts laughing.
“I expected that much. I hope you will change your mind about this with a little time. I’m sure you already noticed the collar around your neck?”
Noctis can feel himself tense as the doctor steps closer. Her fingers are cold as she slips them under his chin to tilt his head further up.
“It measures your heartrate, breathing pattern, the tension of the muscles in your neck, making it a very accurate predictor of when its wearer is falling asleep.”
There isn’t much room for Noctis to shake her touch off, but she doesn’t try to stop him when he pulls away. She gives him another smile, looking genuinely pleased. It makes Noctis’ stomach twist.
“This will give you plenty of time to consider cooperating. Sleep is quite important for your physical and mental health, so maybe don’t think too long.”
She turns around to leave, making the two men behind her step aside to get out of her way. She checks her watch in the doorway, scribbling another note on her clipboard.
“It’s been about fourteen hours. We’ll check back with you in another ten maybe.”
The door shuts tightly behind them, leaving Noctis alone with himself again.
He curses under his breath, tilting his head to maybe get a glance at the collar around his neck after all. The only thing he accomplishes is making the collar bite into his skin. There are a few spots of skin that now burn, probably where the electrodes connect to him.
He wonders where he is, if it’s even possible for his friends to find him. There’s no way to know where they’ve brought him, but he hopes it’s not too far from where he was taken. At least the upcoming transport probably means he’s not in Niflheim yet. He’ll take any good news he can get.
***
Now that he knows he’ll be punished for falling sleep, he’s growing more tired by the minute. He just hopes he’ll get out of here soon.
Even though he can’t sleep, he closes his eyes, at least trying to somewhat rest.
The longer he’s kneeling without the ability to move, the more his body hurts. He already hates this, but he doesn’t fall asleep again. In fact, nothing happens at all. He is left alone in his cell with little to occupy him and no chance to stop his thoughts from running wild. He wonders if this is part of the plan.
He doesn’t know how long it takes, but the fact that he’s been captured loses its excitement fast when the semi-darkness behind his lids is just as interesting as the plain wall in front of him. He’s been waiting so long he’s not even scared or worried anymore. He’s bored. A startled laughter escapes his lips at the thought, cutting through the silence.
He opens his eyes again to be greeted by grey concrete. In an odd way it reminds him of the formal dinners he had to attend before he could even follow the conversations. He used to stare at the walls, smiling politely when he remembered to. It was getting better after Ignis started to accompany him and invented Secret I Spy. Guessing correctly was less hard than trying to bring it up naturally talking to his dad, but those were the rules. Now that he thinks back, he’s pretty sure Regis knew what was going on all along. It would explain how he would sometimes randomly change the topic, just before Noctis could bring up his spied object.
It hits Noctis all over again how much he misses him. The memory of their goodbye comes back to him uninvited. All he’s been thinking about that day was the road trip, the wedding, himself. He was annoyed when his father appeared on the steps just before they wanted to take off and it’s hard not to hate himself for it. He couldn’t have known it would be the last time he’d see him, but who treats their father like that?
He blinks a few times to disperse the wetness gathering in the corners of his eyes.
Anger washes over him, just as sudden as the sadness did. Anger at his father for leaving him in the dark, at the empire, at himself for being too eager to leave to recognize what’s happening.
There’s nothing he can do but try to fix what’s left to fix, defeat the Niflheim, rebuild his kingdom. And all he’s managed to do is getting himself captured leaving his friends unprotected to ride out their poisoning.
He needs to get out, right now.
He starts struggling against the cuffs holding him in place, even though he knows the chains will hold. The metal cuts into his wrists, his ankles, as he lets out a frustrated roar. It echoes in the small room, the loudness startling him, even though he caused it.
He waits for a reaction, another shock, Aegrum coming back, but nothing happens and the cycle repeats until he can’t quite tell his emotions apart.
At some point his wrists start to bleed, but he barely feels in rage and embraces it in sadness. It’s exhausting and they won’t let him sleep.
He’s just catching his breath, focusing on the blood dripping from his fingers, as the door in front of him opens.
Aegrum is wearing a smile and a new set of clothes under her white coat. It makes Noctis’ blood boil again.
“It’s been twenty four hours since we activated the collar. How are you feeling, your Highness?”
It takes everything in Noctis not to just start screaming into her face.
“The video feed suggests that you were quite agitated in the last few hours. Is there any particular reason you want to tell us about?”
His glare might have been telling enough. She takes out her pen again and scribbles something down, nodding to herself.
“Emotional responses have been known to intensify after roughly twenty-four hours of staying awake. It seems like you are a bit ahead of schedule. I’ve theorized that your energy consumption must be quite a bit higher than the average human’s because of your connection to the crystal. It is indeed fascinating to see the effect even though you don’t have access to your magic.”
The pen disappears into her pocket again as she takes a small step back.
“You’ve been here for a rather long time, Prince Noctis. Are you thirsty?”
The man on her left approaches, a cup in his hands. He bows a bit, so that Noctis can see inside. It looks like water, although Noctis can’t be too sure.
He waits until the cup is in his reach, then smashes his head against the waiting hand with as much force as he can muster. The cup gets knocked over, the content spilling over him and the man holding it.
The slap comes faster than Noctis can react. His head snaps to the side under the force. It probably would have send Noctis sprawling to his side, if it wasn’t for the chains holding him in place.
The doctor clicks with her tongue.
“I take that you’re still unwilling to help us.”
She walks out into the dimly lit hallway beyond the cell, gesturing for her companions. She waits as they walk past her, then grabs the door handle.
“We’ll leave you to it then, your Highness.”
With a small, almost encouraging smile, she shuts the door behind her.
***
It probably takes hours for Noctis’ anger to disperse, but strangely it leaves nothing behind. For how little control he’s had over his emotions before, they now seem dull, like everything else around him.
There’s a small puddle of water in front of him where it was knocked out of the cup. Noctis stares at it for a long time as his thirst builds up, unsure if he regrets his action or not.
After a while he notices a strange buzzing in his ears. At first he thinks it’s the collar or something else in the room, but it’s not.
The men return, one holding another cup. Noctis turns his head away decidedly, so they don’t even approach. He decides he does regret not taking it when they are gone again.
The next time the door opens, Noctis doesn’t even look up. The buzzing in his ears comes in handy to drown out Aegrum’s voice.
A few of the names make it through to Noctis despite his efforts. Luna again, then Cor. He wants to ask why his friends are not on the list anymore. Did they find them or are they not that important compared to the marshal and the Oracle? Maybe it’s just another trick to get him to talk, so his mouth stays firmly shut, his head turned down.
He doesn’t notice the men stepping closer until one of their shoes appears in Noctis’ field of vision. It startles him enough to look up. They are standing over him, one holding a bag of clear fluid, the other one a small leather case he rummages through.
He tries to move his arm away, but one of them holds it still. The grip is tight. Noctis is sure it will bruise.
He can feel the needle going in. It gets secured with a bit of tape, before the other man passes the bag of liquid. Then there’s more tape, guiding up the small tube up and out of his reach.
Aegrum crosses off something on her clip board.
“Don’t worry, your Highness. We’re just concerned about your intake of fluid, since you refused our offers to drink.”
They leave without another word.
The dripping of the bag is strangely loud. At first it’s nice, like the ticking of a clock. He can hear that time is still passing. He won’t be stuck here forever. From one moment to the next it’s unbearable, but it doesn’t matter how he twists in the chains, he can’t reach it to pull it out.
He consoles himself with the size of the bag. There’s not that much in it. It will be over soon.
As the silence returns, he wishes the dripping back.
The men come in without Aegrum, taking the empty bag and remove the needle. They do it silently, not even looking at him more than they have to, as if he’s not even there.
He wishes his anger back, even his boredom, so he doesn’t have to feel so alone.
***
Aegrum returns. This time she doesn’t tell him how long it’s been. Now that he thinks about it, she hasn’t done that for a while. The time between the visits seemed shorter somehow, although she is wearing fresh clothes under her coat again.
She offers him something. More water or food, he doesn’t really understand, but he doesn’t react anyway.
When she closes the door behind her as she leaves, his exhaustion hits him with full force.
He doesn’t mean to sleep, but his eyes keep falling shut and the collar keeps shocking him awake again. The skin under the collar must be a mess of burns by now. Even the pain doesn’t help staying awake any longer. Noctis is fighting to keep his head up, his eyes open, the next moment he jolts up, electricity cursing through him. There’s no way he can tell the time, but he knows he’s slowly losing this battle, the intervals between the shocks getting shorter and shorter.
The buzzing in his ears intensifies as he lets his head fall back. He wonders what happens, if he just passes out. Will it register as sleep? Will he even wake up or will the shocks just go on and on until his heart gives out?
He faintly hears the lock turn in front of him. Prying his own eyes open is getting harder, but he has to see.
It’s the same team again, two men in scrubs and the woman with the clipboard. She smiles faintly as she sees him. Noctis wants to scream.
One of the men has another cup in his hands. Noctis doesn’t struggle as the cup is set to his lips, the hand of the man guiding his head back. He is almost grateful, that he doesn’t have to hold it up himself. The water is cool and clean, soothing his dry throat as he swallows. For a moment he considers asking for more.
Instead of stepping back like the last time, the other man joins him at Noctis’ side. Noctis’ mind is too slow to be anything but confused by this, then they reach behind him.
Somehow the quiet, metallic click cuts through the buzzing in his head with no problem.
The cuffs behind his back are unlocked. With his arms free, he tries to fight his captors, but his punch only hits air. They are too fast or he’s too slow or his arms won’t work, he just can’t figure it out. His wrists are caught easily as he tries again. He man holding them doesn’t really look strong, but Noctis can’t break his grip.
Another set of clicks, this time by his feet. Noctis falls onto his hands and knees as they step back. The collar bites into his skin as he raises his head to them. Are they letting him go? It doesn’t make sense, but his heart is surging anyway.
The woman starts talking. What was her name? Aegrum he thinks.
“—critical phase. Do you have anything to say?”
Noctis bites his lips and shakes his head. He can’t say anything. His friends depend on him. Luna depends on him. Everyone in Lucis depend on him.
“Are you sure?” The doctor tilts her head. “It doesn’t even have to be much and you could have a little break, what do you think? A general location of, say, the Oracle in exchange for five hours without the collar, how does that sound?”
Noctis hesitates for a moment and instantly hates himself for it, shaking his head once more.
The next moment the doctor and the men following her are gone. Maybe she’s been in here alone this time, he isn’t sure.
Slowly Noctis moves his wrists, now that they’re free again. There are a few shallow cuts from where the cuffs dug into his flesh. He’s no longer tied down. It takes a few moments for it to truly sink in, then Noctis struggles to his feet. There are pins and needles seemingly all over his body, but it’s good. It at least makes him focus on something.
The cell is too small to really walk circles, but Noctis does anyway. One round is five steps. He makes them smaller, the number goes up. It goes up and up to the point Noctis doesn’t even know why he’s doing this anymore. He is so tired. So he stops.
He leans against the wall. Something is blinking above the door. A camera, right. They are watching him. He wants them to leave him alone, but he doesn’t know how to make them. The cell is too small. There is no corner that the camera won’t catch him in.
The thought almost makes him cry.
He leans his back against the wall, slowly sliding down. His knee objects to the twist, but Noctis has no strength to stop it. The camera is still on him. Noctis brings his arms up, crossing them in front of his face and curling into himself to hide.
It’s surprisingly dark and Noctis slips so fast he can’t even think about why he’s not supposed to sleep.
The shock violently drags him back into wakefulness. He hears himself whimper, but it seems far away. His heart is beating in his throat where the collar burned his skin. His eyes threaten to fall shut again, despite the lingering twitches, the pain shooting through his veins. Shaking his head, Noctis tries to make it stop, but he already knows it won’t. He doesn’t know how long this has been going on by now, he only knows he needs to stay awake. Just a little longer.
“That’s right, you can do it, buddy!”
The voice startles him out of his thoughts. Noctis looks up, but there is nobody. The door is still closed, the camera is on and he’s alone.
He bites his lips and gets back up to his feet. He should be moving. Instead of counting steps, he counts laps. It’s a bit easier, but he still loses track, so he starts counting from the beginning until it becomes irrelevant. He doesn’t stop moving though.
He thinks he sees something out of the corner of his eye, making his head whip around. The movement is too sudden, disorientating, and his feet trip over nothing.
He goes down hard. His hands are not quick enough to break his fall. The sound of his head hitting the concrete is unnaturally loud in his ears, his vision shortening out for a moment.
He doesn’t lose consciousness though. With a groan he manages to roll onto his side, curling in a little. His hands find the side of his head and come away wet. Noctis stares at blood smeared across his fingers. Somehow he can’t move, as if the chains are holding him down again. The blood runs down his head, dripping from the tips of his hair onto the ground.
“It’s alright, Noct. The cut is small, head wounds just tend to bleed a lot.”
Ignis.
He looks up from his hands, but he is alone. Maybe he’s hit his head harder than he thought. It doesn’t make sense. He’s slowly getting upright again, leaning against the wall. The blood keep flowing, running down the side of his neck, collecting where the collar meets his skin.
His breathing picks up. He’s hallucinating. He’s only ever seen this on warnings for energy drinks, all the ridiculous sounding side effects printed out on the back of the cans.
This means he’s been here at least three days.
He hasn’t slept in three days.
Having a number again makes it both better and worse.
He looks around the cell. Somehow he didn’t really notice how small it really is. If he stretches out, he could probably touch both sides of the wall, even on the longer side. His breath comes in faster, but it doesn’t feel like he’s getting any air. The collar sits tight and heavy around his neck. He needs to get it off. His hands close around it and he pulls. It doesn’t move an inch, doesn’t even creak. The pressure against his burnt skin hurts. There are some groves and bumps on it, so Noctis’ fingers pry into them, trying to somehow break it open.
The electricity charges through him, stronger than ever before. It seems to last forever, his body cramping up relentlessly. He can’t think through the pain as if there’s nothing left of him but white hot agony.
It lets up just before he’s about to pass out. He doesn’t know if that was deliberate, but he clings to his wakefulness with everything he has left. With exception of the tremors still moving through him, he stays as still as he can. He doesn’t dare to do anything but breathe. His heart beats so hard in his chest it actually hurts. Everything hurts.
There’s Ignis standing in the corner, Gladio and Prompto by his side. His arms are crossed over his chest as he lets out a sigh and rubs the bridge of his nose.
“How do you think you’re fit to rule, if you can’t even stay awake?”
***
Time passes. Noctis loses count on how many times the collar wakes him. Sometimes he sees his friends, sometimes he sees the scientist. Deciding if it’s a hallucination gets harder, so he just stays silent no matter who he thinks is with him. But he listens for his friends, watches when he can. He doesn’t know why, but even if he knows they are not really here, it’s somehow less lonely. Even when they start shouting at him. They are right of course. He is weak, pathetic even. Curled up in one corner of a tiny cell, while he contemplates which one of his friends he’d betray first just for a little sleep.
He hears the door open again. There are voices, a few at a time talking over each other. Noctis can’t follow, even though he tries. Maybe it’s easier this way. Either it’s not real or the doctor is back, trying to barter with him. If he doesn’t even hear her, he doesn’t have to force himself to decline. He wants to sleep so badly, but if he gives in once, he knows he will do it again. And he can’t have that. Ignis is right. If he can’t even stay awake on his own, how is he going to take back his kingdom?
Someone touches his arm. He tries to flinch back, but there is nowhere to go.
He opens his eyes, even though they burn.
His friends are with him in the cell. Ignis is kneeling in front of him, looking distressed. Noctis can see his lips are moving, but his ears doesn’t register his words yet. Behind him hovers Gladio, a murderous look on his face. Prompto has his gun drawn, glancing back and forth between him and the hallway. They looks like Noctis remembers them, but he always thinks that at first. His eyes catch on Gladio, looking impossibly tall from where Noctis has sunk to the ground. His teeth are gritted, his brows set deep. Noctis has seen hat expression before. He is angry, truly angry. Noctis doesn’t think he can stand being shouted at again, even if it’s only in his mind.
Then he remembers. Somebody touched him. Hallucinations don’t do that.
Slowly he uncurls one of his hand, reaching out. The Ignis in front of him catches on instantly, taking his hand in his own. Noctis can feel the slight pressure, the warmth. His vision gets blurry, but he’s so relieved he doesn’t wonder why.
He can’t see Ignis’ face that well, but he thinks some of the worry disappears.
Ignis’ touch is careful, turning his hand around to inspect the cuts on his wrist. He only sets it back to the ground after he’s already reached for the other. Then Ignis reaches up to his hair, gently pulling it from his face. Noctis hisses as Ignis grazes the wound from his fall. Noctis can see his mouth open, so he tries to concentrate. He catches most of it, he thinks.
“ …hurt anywhere else?”
Noctis shakes his head just slightly, so Ignis’ hand stays where it is. A flask appears out of nowhere. Noctis knows what to do, but he can’t seem to break it on his own. Ignis’ fingers disappear from his hair, then close firmly around Noctis’ until the potion breaks.
The magic surges through him, making the permanent throb around his throat disappear.
Ignis’ hand is still holding his. He doesn’t want him to let go.
“Can you stand up?”
He isn’t too sure, but he isn’t sure about anything.
Ignis doesn’t wait for him to answer, or maybe Noctis just takes too long, and turns around to exchange a few words with Gladio.
In the next moment Ignis has disappeared and Gladio is kneeling in front of him. He’s looking at him, waiting. Noctis thinks he’s missing time. He couldn’t be sure about it with the long stretches of nothing, but now he thinks it’s true.
Gladio still seems to wait for an answer so Noctis just nods. Gladio leans closer, placing one arm across Noctis’ shoulders, the other one slipping under his legs.
Noctis only understands when he’s lifted up. He lets his head sink against Gladio’s shoulder. The collar makes it uncomfortable, but his head is too heavy to lift again. They are talking over his head, then they are on the move. He can see Prompto in front, his guns still drawn and ready to shoot. He wonders if it was hard to get to him or if it’s just the doctor with her two helpers.
They’re really fast or he’s losing time again, because it only takes a few moments and they’re outside.
A forest surrounds the rather small complex. Noctis remembers driving through one before they took their last hunt. It’s dark and he can’t see very far, so Noctis lets his eyes fall shut again.
The air is bitingly cold, so Noctis presses tighter against Gladio’s chest. The heat and the motion is strangely soothing. It’s something Noctis shouldn’t indulge in, but he can’t remember why.
He barely registers the fall and impact when the collar shocks him again.
The first thing he becomes aware of when the pain stops is the ground under him. It’s a little damp and somehow colder than the concrete of his cell. Gladio’s propped up on his elbows over him, taking deep shuddering breaths. He pushes himself up to sit back on his heels, shaking out his arms.
“The fuck was that?”
Noctis wants to get up, but his hands just won’t find purchase. The cold is seeping in fast. Maybe his hands don’t work because he’s shaking too much.
Gladio pulls him up into a sitting position, anger glinting again in his eyes. Noctis swallows heavily under his gaze as he remembers the question, but when he tries to talk his tongue refuses to cooperate.
“Is it the collar? What does it do?”
He blinks at Ignis, who suddenly appeared in his line of vision, offering him a hand up. Noctis reaches for it, but he misses.
Ignis frowns, exchanging a glance with Gladio.
“Can you tell us what`s wrong? Did they drug you?”
He doesn’t know. Maybe. He doesn’t really care. It doesn’t matter if he’s drugged, if they let him sleep. He opens his mouth, but the words won’t come. He stops, concentrates. Answer the question.
“I’m tired.”
It still sounds slurred in his ears, but Ignis’ eyebrows shoot up, so maybe he understood.
“How long have you been awake?”
Noctis shakes his head. He doesn’t know either. He doesn’t know anything.
He hears Gladio curse, reaching up to Noctis’ neck.
“Let’s see how we get this off.”
“No!”
He hits something, Gladio’s shoulder he thinks, or just his arm. Gladio pulls back with barely concealed surprise. Noctis feels bad for hitting him, but he’s still anticipating the shock, his body tightening in expectation.
Ignis slowly gets down to his knees in front of him, adjusting to his level.
“Does it go off, if you tamper with it?”
Noctis nods, grinding his teeth. It doesn’t seem like Gladio did enough to get him punished, but his body won’t calm down. There are black spots dancing in front of his eyes and suddenly he is so scared that if he loses consciousness now he won’t wake up again.
He can hear Ignis talk, but his voice is strangely distorted. Gladio is hoisting him higher up and suddenly he feels sick. It’s not enough to make him vomit, but maybe that’s just because there is nothing left in him that could come up. Ignis takes his hand again and it’s so much warmer than his. Ignis’ thumb starts drawing slow circles on his skin. It’s easy to focus on.
Slowly Noctis can feel himself calm down again until he’s back struggling to stay awake. He draws his hand back and tries to push himself a little more upright, but his limbs are too slow to react.
“Noctis?”
Ignis is still kneeling in front of him, his expression concerned.
“May I take a look at the collar? I swear I won’t touch it.”
Even though he trusts Ignis, Noctis hesitates for a moment before he nods.
Ignis Is gentle as he moves Noctis’ head around. He pulls away a few moments later.
“It looks like we need a key.”
Ignis turns back around, talking to Prompto, who’s been caught between hovering over them and keeping an eye out for enemies from the looks of it. Noctis doesn’t make the effort to try to follow. He can hear Gladio joining in, just before he is grabbed under his armpits and hauled up.
The sudden change of perspective makes him dizzy and he has to get a hold of Gladio’s shirt not to lose his balance.
They are still talking, when Gladio gently pries his hand off.
“We’ll be back soon, I promise.”
Then he turns around to go. Ignis follows behind him, daggers materializing in his hand. Noctis doesn’t understand. Prompto appears next to him, steering him in the other direction.
“Come on, the Regalia is not that far.”
Noctis frowns, his eyes still trying to follow Ignis and Gladio disappearing between the trees.
“Where are they going?”
Prompto looks at him strangely for a moment.
“Back to the facility. They’re getting the key for the collar.”
Noctis nods, not quite sure how he feels about that. He wants the collar off so bad, but he wants them to stay together. Why didn’t they ask him?
He doesn’t get the chance to voice that question, when Prompto grabs one of his arms to pull him along in the other direction.
“I would carry you, but I think walking a bit would be better to keep you up. What do you think, Noct?”
***
Walking is hard. Noctis stumbles a lot and they need to make breaks, although Prompto said it wasn’t far. He doesn’t know how long it takes for them to reach the Regalia, then suddenly it’s just there, right in front of them.
Prompto lets Noctis lean against the side of the car and produces the key, then he helps Noctis into the backseat. The cushions are soft, softer than he remembers. Now that they’ve stopped moving, he really feels the cold again. Crossing his arms in front of his chest, he curls in on himself as he starts to shiver.
Something soft appears around his shoulders. A blanket.
“There you go.”
Noctis nods in thanks and fishes for the corners to wrap it around himself properly. He’s not very successful, so when a second set of hands does it for him, he just drops his own into his lap.
It’s still cold and really wants to lie down, but it’s so much nicer than the cell, he doesn’t even notice his chin dropping to his chest. The shock comes sudden, making his breath leave in a gasp as his chest locks up.
Prompto is at his side instantly. It’s a small comfort as he rides out the lingering pain. He wants to curl up, just pretending he doesn’t exist for a little while. He feels clumsy as he brings up one of knees and slings his arms around it. Even though it threatens to fall down instantly, he leans his forehead against it. He just needs a break, just a small one. Ten minutes. He would take five.
The next shock seems to burn right into his soul. He doesn’t cry out, there’s no time before electricity forces him silent.
His breath comes back to him with pain as he lets his head fall back against the seat. His eyes sting, he wants to close them so badly, but he doesn’t dare to. He doesn’t know how long he can hold out anymore.
There’s movement next to him outside the car. A familiar pair of hands appears in front of him, black fingerless gloves on both of them.
“Get up, buddy.”
Noctis looks up at Prompto and his outstretched hands uncomprehending. Even If he wanted, he can’t. His limbs are too heavy. Everything is too heavy. His head threatens to fall to his chest, when Prompto just grabs his arms and pulls.
Noctis’ eyes widen a fraction as he stumbles out of the car. He’s swaying dangerously, his knees threatening to give out any minute, but there’s Prompto’s hand on his shoulder. His grip is tight and somehow that helps, making the world a little more solid.
There’s something poking at his cheek, Noctis tries to swat it away at first before he realizes it’s Prompto’s finger.
“No sleepy time yet, Noct. Stay with me.”
Noctis tries, he really does, but it’s hard. Even standing is hard. He’s poked again, making his eyes snap up to Prompto.
Prompto’s hand squeezes his shoulder gently. He’s smiling a little, but it somehow looks wrong.
“Tell me where Ignis and Gladio are.”
Noctis is still thinking about what exactly looks wrong about Prompto’s smile, before he remembers that Prompto is probably waiting for an answer.
“Back in the facility.”
Another little squeeze. His smile looks a little more right now.
“Great. And what are they doing there?”
Noctis frowns.
“Getting the key.”
“The key for what again?”
Noctis can see what Prompto is trying to do, have him talk so he won’t sleep. Still, he can’t help the sudden anger rising in his throat.
Prompto prods him again. Noctis hasn’t even noticed his chin was dropping. He swallows heavily.
“For the collar.”
“And what are you supposed to do until they come back?”
He knows the answer, but he can’t say it. He doesn’t want to stay awake any longer. The anger bubbles up again, rising higher and higher.
His breath hitches. The corners of his eyes start to burn harder.
Maybe it’s not anger after all.
He can hear Prompto take a sharp breath in front of him. His free hand finds Noctis’ cheek, as if to help holding it up. The cheer in his voice is forced.
“You’re doing great, you know that?”
Prompto loosens the grip a bit, rubbing his shoulder on top of his shirt.
“Just a little longer. Can you do that, buddy?”
Can he? He doesn’t think so.
The heaviness in him suddenly intensifies. It’s always just a little longer, but it never ends.
He shakes his head as the first tear escapes. The movement makes his vision spin.
Prompto curses softly, or at least Noctis thinks he does. The buzzing is getting louder again.
His vision tilts.
Before he can understand what’s happening, Prompto steps in close, throwing his arms securely around him.
He can feel himself lean into Prompto more and more, his head falling on Prompto’s shoulder. Prompto is still talking, but the words don’t register. Prompto is warm, the embrace comfortable. On some level he knows Prompto is holding up most of his weight, but there’s nothing Noctis can do about it. His body is shutting down. It’s nice not to bear the heaviness alone though.
Suddenly he is pulled back. The sudden cold air hitting his chest is a jarring contrast, as Prompto holds him at an arm’s length. Noctis doesn’t understand. His tears fall faster.
Prompto looks pained.
“I’m so sorry, Noct. You really can’t sleep yet.”
It doesn’t make sense. Prompto is his best friend, why does he do this to him?
“Please-”
Prompto says something that he doesn’t quite catch over the buzzing in his ears, but the collar is still around his neck, so the word keeps falling from his lips until Noctis isn’t quite sure what he’s asking for.
There are voices in the distance. Prompto shouts something in return, but Noctis can’t make sense of it, not as long as the collar is still choking him.
Then there are more hands on him, one pair grabbing his arms as another hand pushes his head back and keeps it there. It’s uncomfortable and looking up towards the night sky makes him feel lightheaded. Someone is fumbling with the collar. They shouldn’t do that. Noctis tries to struggle, but the hands won’t let go of him. They shouldn’t do that. It will hurt so much and Noctis can’t take it anymore. There’s a voice shushing him, right next to his ear.
There’s a click. He’s heard it before. Something comes loose, then it hits the ground right in front of him. The hands holding his head let go, so he can look.
A collar lies in the dirt by his feet. It’s black with some inlets on the outside. Inside he can see bare wires coming out of the casing. Noctis’ hand comes up shakily to his neck. Instead of metal there’s only his skin.
He looks at the collar for another few moments, because finally he can see the actual thing that tormented him over the last days.
It feels unreal that it’s over now.
He raises his head. Prompto is still holding him by his shoulders in front of him, Gladio and Ignis on either of his side.
Prompto gives him a shaky smile.
“It’s okay, you can go sleep now.”
Noctis nods.
His knees give out under him just a moment later, but he doesn’t fall.
Gladio picks him up again and carries him to the Regalia. Ignis is already there, holding the door open for them. Noctis gets lowered across the backseat, this time lying on his side. He watches Gladio and Prompto switch places out of the corner of his eyes. The blanket from before is back in Prompto’s hands. There’s a bit of dirt clinging to it, but Noctis is still grateful as Prompto lowers it on top of him.
Just after Prompto closes the car door at Noctis’ feet, the door on the other side opens. The low grunt as Noctis’ torso gets lifted up again tells him it’s Gladio who slips his legs under his head as a cushion.
Noctis closes his eyes at the low sound of the motor starting. He can feel the car moving, which usually makes him fall into a doze instantly. Still, he finds his body tense, his thoughts spinning. He’s so tired and the collar is gone, but his mind won’t stop screaming at him to stay awake.
A hand touches the side of his neck, making him wince in surprise. It moves slowly until it rests on his throat. It’s not an uncomfortable weight though. It’s different from the collar, the touch warm and comforting even though he can feel the calluses on the fingers.
Gladio’s voice is a deep rumbling in his ear.
“Sleep. You’ve earned it.”
And strangely, the words send him right off.
***
Noctis wakes with a start. His heart is hammering in his chest. He’s not supposed to sleep. He didn’t make a deal, did he?
Sitting up abruptly, he’s becoming more aware of his surroundings.
Prompto is on a chair next to the bed Noctis is in, almost dropping his phone as his head shoots up.
“Woah buddy, you alright?”
He nods tentatively.
He’s not in the cell anymore, but in a motel room. The dingy curtains seem familiar, so maybe they’ve passed through here before. The adrenalin leaves him in a rush, almost making him fall back down again. He can feel the exhaustion still pulling at him, but his nerves are too shot to go back to sleep right away.
“How long was I out?”
Prompto shrugs. “About fourteen hours, but don’t worry. We’ve rented the room for three days, so you can rest up a bit.” He pockets his phone and leans forward, his elbows resting on his knees.
“How are you feeling?”
Still tired, nervous somehow.
Noctis swallows.
“Better. Where’s the rest?”
Prompto doesn’t look very satisfied with the answer, but he doesn’t follow up on it.
“Iggy and Gladio are out on a hunt, but it’s nothing difficult and no poison this time. They gave clear instructions in case you woke up before they come back.”
Prompto sits up with his back straight and holds up three fingers, looking mock-serious. “One, you should eat, Iggy made soup. Two, I am not to leave you alone under any circumstances, so you don’t zombie-walk around and brain yourself on a counter or something. Three,” he points the last finger at Noctis in warning, “you must not, and I repeat, you must not under any circumstances try to stay up for them, okay? Please don’t get me in trouble and just stay in bed, yeah?”
Noctis can feel a small smile forming on his face before it’s interrupted by a yawn.
“I’m trying my best.”
Prompto get up and heads towards the small kitchen, where Noctis can see a pot. He watches as Prompto fills some of the content into a waiting mug. The smell wafting over to him is already delicious.
His grip feels a bit shaky on the mug, but he doesn’t drop it when Prompto hands it over.
It’s broth, simple but knowing Iggy it’ll taste amazing. The first sip proves him right. He has to be careful not to drink it down too fast. His stomach is probably not up for much after days of nothing.
He barely manages to get down the whole cup. Prompto is there to take it back from him.
“Anything else before it’s naptime again?”
Noctis shakes his head, already burying himself in the blanket again. The warm weight of the soup in his stomach makes him even sleepier.
He’s curling up on his side with the blanket up to his nose and closes his eyes.
It’s not really dark behind his eyelids, which was never a problem before, but now it bothers him. It reminds him of the light in his cell, always on, leaving with no sense of time. He pushes the thought away with little success and draws the blanket up higher. The more he wants to let go, the tenser his body gets, anticipating the pain that comes with falling asleep.
His hands fist into the blanket as he pulls it down again, blinking against the afternoon light in the room.
He’s still in the motel. His limbs are not chained down and there’s no collar biting into his skin.
Prompto is still on the chair next to his bed. He’s got his phone out again, probably playing a game.
Noctis worries his lip. It’s a bit childish to ask, but he doesn’t think Prompto would make fun of him. Much anyway. His exhaustion wins out at the end.
“Prom?”
Prompto instantly lowers his phone, looking at him with barely concealed surprise. “Yeah?”
Noctis guesses it’s appropriate, since his special ability is falling asleep in less than ten seconds. At least it used to be.
He swallows and slowly lets one hand slip out from under the blanket.
“Could you…?”
Prompto looks a bit confused for a moment, before he hums in understanding and takes Noctis’ hand. His fingers squeeze Noctis’ gently.
“Sure thing, bud.”
Noctis squeezes back and lets his eyes fall shut again.
The contact helps, anchoring him in the present. There’s still a bout of panic, but it goes away with another squeeze of Prompto’s fingers.
He faintly hears the door open. The voices are hushed, but Noctis recognizes them easily. For a moment he thinks about opening his eyes again, but he decides against it and lets sleep take him once more, surrounded by the people he trusts the most. Safe.