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Tap. Tap tap. Tap tap tap. Tap. Tap tap. Tap tap-
“Nervous?” Tiergan asks, raising an eyebrow.
“Nope,” Prentice says, clasping his hands together to stop his fingers tapping on the armrest of his chair. “Not even a little.”
His foot betrays him by continuing the same rhythm on the floor, and Tiergan laughs. “Are you sure?”
Prentice rolls his eyes. “Fine. I am perhaps the tiniest bit anxious at the prospect of having tons of illegal information shoved into my mind within the next five minutes.” His tone is light, but the look in his eyes is one of genuine fear.
“You don’t have to do this, you know,” Tiergan reminds him for the hundredth time. “You can say no.”
“It’s a bit too late to back out now, even if I wanted to.” Prentice takes a shaky breath. “Besides, this thing that we’re part of? It’s bigger than us. We have to take risks sometimes.”
“I know.” Tiergan squeezes his hand. “I just worry about you.”
The door to Forkle’s office opens, and he pokes his head out, looking far too calm for what’s about to happen. “Come in,” he says. “It’s time.”
Tiergan and Prentice both stand up, still holding hands. Forkle frowns. “I would prefer to have Mr. Endal in here alone.”
“Will having Tiergan with me make something explode or cause anyone to die horribly?” Prentice asks.
Forkle snorts. “Of course not. But-”
“Then no,” Prentice says, and Forkle shrugs.
“Suit yourself. I just thought you might like privacy.”
“He’s seen me with my clothes off before, if that’s what you mean. I doubt-”
“Okay!” Forkle holds up his hands in a gesture of surrender. “Okay, fine, both of you can come.”
Prentice nods serenely and steps into the office with Forkle, a satisfied smile on his face, and Tiergan follows behind him, utterly failing to suppress his laughter.
Prentice and Forkle sit down in two identical chairs across from each other. Tiergan is offered a seat in the corner, but opts to stand next to Prentice. “Shall we begin?” Forkle asks, voice barely above a whisper.
Prentice nods, just once, and closes his eyes.
Heart in his throat, Tiergan watches as Forkle reaches out and lays both hands on Prentice’s forehead. Prentice shudders slightly, but relaxes. Forkle takes a deep breath and closes his own eyes.
For exactly two minutes and thirty-nine seconds (yes, Tiergan counted), both of them are perfectly silent and still. Then, Forkle’s lips twitch, forming a word Tiergan can’t quite make out, and with a grunt of effort, he pulls away from Prentice and stands up, breathing raggedly. Prentice inhales sharply, as though in sudden pain, and slumps forward in his chair.
Tiergan immediately rounds on Forkle. “What happened? Is he all right?”
“He’s fine,” Forkle says unconvincingly, still trying to catch his breath. “It’s just a lot for him to take in.”
Tiergan kneels in front of Prentice’s chair and reaches for his hand. “Prentice? Can you hear me?”
He doesn’t respond, but his breathing is deep and even, suggesting he’s asleep. Tiergan sits back on his heels and looks at Forkle with an unreadable expression. “If he’s hurt-”
Forkle waves a hand. “Yes, yes, you’ll beat the shit out of me. I’m well aware. Now, I suggest you two go home.”
Right. Tiergan stands up, and scoops Prentice up bridal style. He turns and walks out of the office without giving Forkle a second glance.
Outside, he fumbles for his home crystal with one hand, and nearly drops Prentice. “Sorry, love,” he mutters, shifting his partner’s body in his arms. “Just got to- there we go.” Tiergan holds the crystal up to the light and wraps so much of his concentration around Prentice that it’s a minor miracle he makes it back to Solreef in one piece.
Prentice’s eyelids twitch as the two of them appear beneath Solreef’s Leapmaster, and he mutters something that sounds vaguely like “Oh fuck,” and then, “hurts.”
“Let’s get you to bed,” Tiergan says, fighting down a sudden surge of anxiety. “I’m taking you to guest bedroom down here, though. I think I’d drop you if I tried to get you up the stairs.”
“M’fine,” Prentice insists, despite the way his eyelids flutter and his words slur together. “I c’n walk-”
“Should I be insulted that you expect me to believe that?” Tiergan teases, but Prentice is already asleep again, and the fluttery, worried feeling in Tiergan’s chest intensifies. He nudges the guest bedroom door open with his shoulder and deposits Prentice on the bed. Prentice stirs again, and immediately hisses in pain and covers his eyes with his hands.
“What is it?” Tiergan asks, trying not to sound panicked.
“Too- too much light. Hurts.”
Tiergan rushes to close the curtains, and without the sunlight, Prentice relaxes. He curls in on himself with a sigh of relief and shuts his eyes.
He doesn’t seem to be in any immediate danger, at least. Tiergan sits down on the end of the bed and waits. He doesn’t dare try transmitting to Prentice, and he really doesn’t want to do anything to wake him up. So all he can do is wait.
Tiergan has no idea how much time has passed when Prentice wakes up again, but he knows it’s been at least a couple of hours. “Hey,” Tiergan says softly. “How are you feeling?”
“Miserable,” Prentice grumbles.
Tiergan sighs. “I’m sorry. We’ve got pain meds in the bathroom if you think that would help.”
Prentice forces a grin. “Can’t make things any worse, I suppose.”
The medicine quickly sends Prentice back to sleep, and Tiergan ends up dozing off as well. It’s the middle of the night when Tiergan is woken up by Prentice moving around next to him. “What time do you think it is?” Prentice asks.
“Don’t know, but it’s dark outside. Our sleep schedules are going to be so messed up,” Tiergan says with a slight laugh. “Are you doing any better?”
“Not much,” Prentice admits.
Tiergan reaches for his hand, and Prentice laces their fingers together. “I’m sorry,” Tiergan says again. “Is there anything I can do?”
Prentice considers. “You just being here is nice,” he says. “Less lonely.” He moves to curl up closer to Tiergan, and Tiergan pulls Prentice into his arms. Prentice relaxes into the hug and rests his head against Tiergan’s chest. Tiergan presses a kiss to his forehead. He doesn’t normally like hugs, but there’s something comforting about having Prentice close like this. Besides, Prentice has always been a hugger, so if anything could make him feel a little better, it’s this.
They sit like that in silence for a while, until Tiergan asks abruptly, “What does it feel like?”
“It’s like… someone filled my mind with a bunch of broken glass, and I keep getting stabbed by the edges. But there’s so much glass, more than I ever thought could fit in one mind-” Prentice shakes his head. “I know that doesn’t make much sense. I’ve just got to give it time, I guess.”
“Do you think I could help? By transmitting, I mean.”
“Maybe? It might not work, though.”
“We don’t have to try it.”
Prentice shrugs. “Might as well. I’ll tell you if I’m about to die or anything.”
“Preferably before that.” Tiergan closes his eyes and transmits, Can you hear me?
Yes, Prentice replies, sounding somewhat strained. You’re loud.
Sorry. Is this better?
Kind of. Don’t stop, though.
Okay. Tiergan feels Prentice’s mental barriers relax. Shit, it’s a mess in here. Prentice’s mind is usually a maze, full of meticulously plotted paths lined with words and shifting images. The maze is still there, but the walls are flashing through memories and information faster than Tiergan can process, and even more words and pictures swirl around freely, like sharp-edged snowflakes.
Prentice laughs. I feel like I should have one of those “pardon our dust” renovation signs. An image of what he’s talking about briefly flickers into existence.
Tiergan focuses on the floating memories. None of them look familiar, as far as he can tell, so they must be from Forkle. They’ll eventually settle down and become part of Prentice’s mental labyrinth on their own, but if he can find a way to make them less painful in the meantime, the process might be easier.
Do you remember the last time you felt… relaxed? he asks Prentice.
Hm. The walls of the maze shift with Prentice’s thoughts. Well, there was last week, when the three of us went ice skating.
Hazy figures join the free-floating memories from Forkle. At first, the memories circle them in a way that seems almost angry, but as the figures move along with Prentice’s words, they relax.
It was cold, Prentice continues, and after about an hour, we ended up sitting on a bench with hot chocolate, watching everyone else skate. There was this one guy in the middle of the ice, doing all these jumps and spins that none of us could ever do in a million years. Someone was singing, too, and they had a guitar. One of the figures leaps into the air and spins, then lands on one leg, as three others sit and watch. A fourth dances in the background. You and Cyrah were stealing each other’s marshmallows, while I was pretending not to notice. We weren’t doing anything important, and our most pressing concern was what to get for dinner. It was nice to have a break from everything.
Forkle’s memories haven’t entirely stopped their frantic swirling, but the peaceful memory from Prentice seems to have settled them a bit. Like it or not, this is probably the most either of them can do without the risk of damaging the process or hurting Prentice.
Tiergan opens his eyes, and Prentice still doesn’t look great, but he looks at least a little better. Less exhausted. After a moment, Prentice rubs his eyes, frowns, and says, “What was the song?”
“Hm?”
“The person at the skating rink with the guitar. What were they singing?”
“Oh.” Tiergan tries to remember. “I think it was “Eleanor Rigby”?” He hums a few bars of the song. “Yeah, that sounds right.”
Prentice says nothing, just looks at him.
Tiergan sighs. “I’m not singing it.”
“Oh, come on. It’s the Beatles.”
“I know it’s the Beatles. Still not singing it.”
Prentice grins. “You know you want to.”
“Nope.”
“Might be just the thing to cure my headache.”
Tiergan sighs. “You’re terrible.”
“You love me,” Prentice says.
“That I do.” Tiergan rolls his eyes and kisses Prentice’s cheek. He sits back and starts to sing, “Ah, look at all the lonely people…”
The song doesn’t cure Prentice’s headache, but Tiergan doesn’t hate singing nearly as much as he pretends to, and Prentice loves it, so it still works out rather well. And if Tiergan ends up singing many more times while Prentice rests, well, it passes the time.