Lost in Space

Fics I have:

-Broken Blood (ongoing)

-Simon in the Egoverse (ongoing)

-A Change in Script (complete)

-A Prying Eye (complete)

-Simon Meets the Egos (complete)

-Fateful Day - Fan Ending (complete)

-Ingo's Disappearance and Return (complete)

-A Blind Minstrel in an Electric Castle (an Ayreon au) (complete)

-After the Fall (an alt universe protag au) (complete)

-The Metal Opera (a novelization of the albums) (complete)

-Remember Forever (an Ayreon/Protag crossover adventure) (complete)

-Universe on Fire (a Gloryhammer one shot) (complete)

Simon looks down at Host's hand, and sees blood still under his fingernails, now smeared on the floor. He grits his teeth, and moves his hand from Host's arm to his head, moving his sweaty hair out of his face.

"You with me?" Simon asks, Host just looking up blankly as he breathes. His breathing does seem to mellow out a bit, and Host turns his head slightly in Simon's direction.

"S-Simon...is...you?"

"Yeah, yeah it's me...I heard a crash from your room and saw you fell off the bed..." He says, glancing to the side. There was a broken glass as well as water on the floor, fallen off the end table as Host went down. "You were...clawing at your face, to the point you were bleeding...was it a vision?" Simon asks, stroking Host's hair slightly to try and calm him more. He could see his chest rising and falling still much too fast.

Host shakes his head. "N-no...the Host s-simply had a nightmare...it h-happens...it is alright-"

"Host, for god's sake, you made yourself bleed! And I don't mean from your eyes!" Simon yells, shifting to pull Host up, propping him against the bedside. "What happened?!"

"Nightmare...as the Host said..." Host mumbles, wavering as dizziness runs over him from sitting up. He feels blood run down from his eyes and down his cheeks. "Sometimes...they are vivid...due to my curse....it is not rare...the H-Host is alright, he promises..."

"Like hell you are! Hold on..."

Host hears Simon get up and walk away. He stays propped against the bed, not having the energy to move. His heart is still racing, though his breathing has calmed significantly. He grimaces in pain, and winces as the skin on his face stings...

He did cut himself badly...

"Alright, hold still..."

Simon walks back to Host, and Host feels a warm damp cloth press against his face. He jolts as the wounds sting for a moment, but the water and pressure help ease the pain.

"You'll look a little weird with these extra bandages on your face, but I don't want to risk you getting an infection or some shit..." Simon grumbles, and Host feels him gently wipe away the blood from his injuries. "None of your cuts are deep, so they'll heal fast enough..."

Host melts as he feels Simon place several bandages on his face, the pain easing almost instantly and entirely. He slumps a bit lower, his body finally giving in to exhaustion as the adrenaline fades.

"Th' Host thanks S-Simon..."

"Course..." Simon says softly, his voice now one of worry. "Are you...sure you don't want to talk about what you saw?"

Host shakes his head quickly, and he hears Simon sigh.

"Alright, alright...what do you need, then?"

Host grips the hem of his shirt, and looks down a bit. "Could...Simon stay the rest of the night? If he is comfortable, that is. The Host is...on edge."

Simon finishes putting the last fabric bandage over Host's eyes, and he tilts his head, giving Host a sympathetic smile.

"Of course I can..."

Host grunts in pain as Simon helps him stand, before helping him back to his bed. Host flops down weakly, his body weak from exhaustion.

"Simon is...a good brother..."

There's a pause of silence before Host hears Simon sigh.

"I try to be...sorry I didn't come sooner."

"Simon couldn't have predicted this..."

Host hears Simon sit on the floor beside the bed, and he relaxes when Simon grabs his hand.

He can feel him nearby, and hear him. He can move his mouth, and talk. He's not trapped in a void of nothingness, blind and muzzled...he's here, in his own bed, with his brother beside him.

"Still. I'll stay with you the rest of the night, though. Try and get some sleep, Host..."

"Th' Host will..." Host mumbles, letting his mind drift.

Wilford stands behind Dark, pulling his hand back and putting both hands on his hips with a huff of annoyance.

"Would it kill you to put some color in this gloomy room? I swear..." He pouts, Dark just staring ahead tiredly as Wilford paces behind him.

"It's an office, Wil, it isn't meant to be colorful. I do work here."

"You always do work! You need some sunlight, you fucking recluse..." Wilford grumbles, pulling one of the blackout curtains over the window to the side. Dark sighs again, and runs a hand down his face.

"What do you want, Wilford?"

"Well that's no way to greet a friend!"

"I have a lot on my mind..."

"You always say that!" Wilford cries, now standing before the desk, both hands on it. Dark avoids his eyes. "Look, that's why I'm here! You-...you need to relax! Stop making yourself so stressed over nothing!"

Dark's eye twitches. "My stressors are not nothing, Wilford. The others keep finding trouble and it has been my fault-"

"The kiddos can handle themselves!" Wilford yells, waving his arm. "You're always so closed off these days...I was just thinking-...."

His words cut off, and Dark glances up. He sees Wilford's usual manic eyes seem a bit calmer, albeit more distant. Dark looks down quickly. He can't stand to see him again only to lose himself minutes later.

"What...were you thinking...?"

Wilford is quiet a moment, then in a soft voice, says "You don't smile anymore..."

Dark closes his eyes, a twisted feeling he can't decipher in his chest taking him over.

"I told you, I have a lot on my mind-"

"But you-...you used to at least know how to have fun!" Wilford cries, throwing his arm out. "I think so, anyway...a-and you used to smile a lot! You'd laugh! I can't even remember the last time you laughed!"

'Neither can I', Dark thinks.

Dark opens his eyes, but keeps his gaze low. "Wilford, a lot has happened you don't understand, it would be best you not dwell on my habits."

"You're my friend, Dark!" Wilford cries, his unusually emotional tone making Dark want to punch a hole in a wall. "I know things have changed, I know you're stressed! A-and hey, you changed your name, I was ok with it! I wanted you happy! A-and the weird...color...gray thing you got going on..." He says, motioning to Dark. "It works for you! It's fine! I just-...you're always working and brooding and hiding away and avoiding the others having fun! I don't think it's good for you-"

"What's GOOD for me is to be ready for if an emergency happens, Wil." Dark snaps, Wilford reeling back. "I already lost-...a lot..." He huffs, looking to the side. "And I accepted it! I accepted you! Who you became!" He yells, looking back to meet Wilford's eyes. "I would GREATLY appreciate it if you did the same for me, and stop comparing me to a ghost..."

Dark breathes heavy, one hand gripping the edge of his desk, the other running through his hair in a futile effort to compose himself. Wilford tilts his head, his face neutral.

"I do accept you, Dark...I just...want to make sure you're happy, is all." He says softly, though Dark knows the tone won't last much longer. "I-...I miss hearing you laugh..."

Dark sighs, and puts both hands on the desk, folding them. He looks up to Wilford, the two locking eyes.

"I will express such emotions when I know nothing will ruin it for me again." Dark says flatly, Wilford almost looking sad. "In the meantime, I will keep working to ensure the others are safe indefinitely. Once that task is completed, I will indulge you."

Wilford looks his way, then down, then to the side. He looks like he wants to say something, but Dark never gets to hear it. The manic light in Wilford's eyes returns before he can speak, and Wilford groans a long groan, leaning his head back.

"Fiiiiiine, you sour pus! Workaholic bastard..." Wilford huffs, rounding the desk. "But you're at LEAST gonna take a break with me right now! I KNOW you haven't eaten today! AND I GOT US TACOS!!!" Wilford yells with a wide smile, grabbing Dark by the arm.

Dark keeps his face expressionless as he's dragged out the door by Wilford, though he doesn't resist. He supposes giving him this one thing wouldn't hurt.

On Eden...no resource could be spared or wasted on those who couldn't do their duties. Simon was a butcher. A solider. If Eden saw him in this pathetic state...he'd be given to the tree without hesitation. And the only way the C.O.I would keep him is if he was useful. But if he couldn't walk, if he was too weak to even stay awake an entire day...if he couldn't lift or fix things...

They wouldn't waste even a single ration bar on a useless convict. It wasn't like he was good with tech either. Simon was good at mapping. At fixing machinery. At...processing the last tree's sacrifices.

All things he can't do in this pathetic state. So if he was useless to Eden, and to the C.O.I...why would he be seen as useful to these clones of his? To Dark? How long until they see he serves no purpose? That he's taking up too much of their medicine? Their resources?

Simon doesn't want to lose this place. He needs to be useful. He needs to fix himself, to heal faster, to make their efforts to save him worthwhile. He won't accept less of himself.

So, Simon shakes his head, and goes back to moving his hand back and forth between each wheel on his chair. He's too weak to walk or do anything physical, but if he can get himself around by himself, that's a start. If they see he makes fast progress, they'll be impressed and hopefully keep him around. He knows Dark said he can stay here...but surely there was a caveat. Surely he must find a purpose here to earn a permanent place. And he can start with figuring out how to go in a straight fucking line-

"Simon? Can I come in-"

"Shit!"

Simon hisses in surprise as Iplier's voice yanks him out of his deep thoughts. He loses grip on the wheel, and ends up slamming back into a shelf behind him. He winces, several glass items falling and breaking beside him on the floor, shattering below his feet.

"O-oh dear, Simon, are you alright-"

"I-I'm sorry!!!" Simon screams, Iplier stopping before him. Simon squeezes his eyes shut, breathing heavy.

"Hey, it was an accident, you're still getting used to-"

"I-I'll clean it! I'll clean it, I swear!" Simon yells, cutting Iplier off. Simon looks down at the floor, his eyes burning. He feels on edge, a familiar dark feeling of suspense he knew all too well on both Eden and the C.O.I. He groans, and knows it would be better to just get things over with instead of dragging it out.

He holds out his arm, wrist up towards Iplier. Simon closes his eyes, doing his best to keep his arm from shaking.

"I-I'll accept any punishment, a-and then I'll clean everything up, I swear-"

"Simon, stop!"

Simon flinches, feeling Iplier grab his wrist. But...pain doesn't come. No lashing, no punishment. Instead, he feels Iplier hold his hand gently, the warmth of his hand...comforting. Simon cracks his eyes open, and sees Iplier before him, looking thoroughly worried.

"No one is going to punish you! This was an accident! And I do NOT want you cleaning up broken glass in your state! I'll get a broom and clean it, you don't have to do anything-"

"BUT I DO!!!" Simon yells, eyes pleading as he looks up at Iplier. He feels Iplier hold his hand tighter. "I-I have used too many of your resources already! Now I broke more! I need-...I need to be punished, a-and I won't resist! I'll do whatever you need, whatever it takes to-"

"Enough!!!"

Iplier yells, but his voice isn't stern or sharp. It's...worried. Simon breathes heavy, and looks back down to the floor in shame.

"Simon, listen to me...I know where you came from wasn't pleasant, but we don't do things that way here...this was a simple accident, do you know how many things I've broken in this place?!" Iplier says with a laugh. "It happens! And god, NO ONE is going to punish or hurt you!"

"B-but...I need-...I need to-"

"Need to what, Simon?"

Simon swallows a lump in his throat. "I need to be useful...s-so I can stay here..." He says, his fight seeping out of him. He closes his eyes, accepting whatever fate comes his way now. "I just...I w-want to stay...I'll do anything-"

"You have done all you need, Simon."

"W-what did I do?!" Simon cries, looking up at Iplier with tearful eyes. Iplier smiles a warm smile at him, a familiar one of understanding and comfort.

"You arrived here. You exist. That's enough, Simon." Iplier says, his voice soft as he holds Simon's hand gently. Simon stares at him with wide eyes, words no longer coming to him. Iplier gives a small laugh, and lets go of Simon's hand. "Come on, let's get you away from the glass. I'll sweep it up, get you some water, and then I can help you with navigating the wheelchair better. Sound good?" He says, Simon's mind still in shock.

He nods, no longer able to find the words to speak.

Iplier helps him move away, and Simon grips the hem of his shirt with his hand, watching Iplier quickly sweep it up. It takes him only seconds to do, and he then grabs a water bottle, handing it to Simon with a smile on his face.

Simon looks down at it. A bottle of this much water was a luxury on Eden. And yet here...things are different. Water is everywhere, so common it's used to wash things casually. His pain medicine never runs out, Iplier always has clean bandages. And...Simon doesn't need to be punished here...