#creday

The first thing Creius does, is trek all the way to the Foundation headquarters to check in and grab everyone a change of clothes. He'd passed Merel on his way, their youngest member telling him that Yermolai was in surgery to remove the shrapnel embedded in his leg, so Creius asked her to pass along the message that he would bring everyone fresh clothes, and that they were to get themselves cleaned up. He gets caught by Irinei demanding to know how and why he's back before everyone else at the safe zone, and Creius leans back from the man's angry words, telling him his presence was requested by Madam Z and that she'd arranged their quick return. Irinei's scowl deepens, but Madam Z herself shows up then to corroborate Creius' story, and waves him onwards whilst she deals with Irinei's temper. He murmurs a quiet thanks as he passes her, and makes his way to the elevator.

He takes his time in getting himself clean, scrubbing every inch of himself until the water runs clear, and even then he still doesn't feel clean. So he takes another shower, scrubs himself again, and finally feels good enough to walk all the way back to Laplace. He stops by everyone's rooms, grabs what he vaguely recalls seeing them wear on their days off and he's just leaving Paravyan's room when he comes face to face with Madam Z and freezes. "Madam Z."

"Creius," the smaller woman greets him, "I take it you're heading back over to Laplace?"

Creius nods and holds up the clothes he's holding, "my team's preoccupied, I just stopped by to grab them clothes. Did you need something?"

Madam Z shakes her head, "I managed to smooth things over with Irinei, so he shouldn't bother you, but I wanted to let you know if you need any assistance with Name Day, I'll write the orders."

"Thank you. Does the Eastern Branch know?" Creius asks.

"They've been told there was an accident and that Name Day was injured and won't be returning to work until he gets a clean bill of health, which should keep them off our backs for a time."

Creius nods, grateful for the foresight. The Foundation doesn't need to know the truth of what happened, not when Name Day's been trying so hard to accomplish his own goals. "The Storm was bad timing."

Madam Z's face softens in sympathy, "it was, but we'll get through it like we always do."

She turns to leave, but before she can call the elevator, Creius calls out to her, "can I ask a question?"

Madam Z turns to look at him.

"Why did Name Day come to you when things got bad the first time?"

"It was actually because of Medicine Pocket," Madam Z says, "they called me after an incident and I spoke to Name Day about his struggles. Since then, I think he just finds it easier to speak with someone who he's told before."

"So you will come and speak with him again?"

Madam Z nods, "once he's well enough to handle the conversation. I'd rather not discover he has a lower point than the one he's already hit."

And with that, she leaves, and Creius waits several minutes before he calls the elevator for himself. He's not sure why he asked the questions he did; maybe he just wanted to understand better why his love trusts in the woman so much, maybe he just wanted to know how to better help. Either way, he's glad that Name Day has someone in a higher position than himself in his corner.

Creius manages to make his way out of the Foundation without being accosted by anyone else, and avoids everyone else on his way back to Laplace. By the time he returns to the research centre, someone calls out to him, telling him that Yermolai's been placed in his own room now and that the rest of his team is there. Creius nods his thanks and gets directions before making his way there. He arrives and quietly pushes open the door to the room.

His squad have clearly borrowed clothes from somewhere, because they've all changed out of their uniforms and shoved them into a corner to be dealt with later, and Creius' mouth quirks up in amusement at seeing them scattered about Yermolai's bedside. Paravyan's asleep again, curled up tight in a chair and someone's bound the shoulder he dislocated days ago, and Creius places the clothes for him on the end of Yermolai's bed. He hands Marsha and Merel theirs since they're both awake and watching him.

"I just grabbed what looked comfortable," Creius says, and Marsha smiles at him in thanks, but Merel's face starts to turn red at the prospect of having him rummage through her closet. Creius ignores it and nods towards the other two of the squad, "how's Yermolai?"

Marsha stretches in her chair, "they managed to get all the shrapnel out of his leg, but they need to check over it once he regains consciousness to make sure there's no further damage."

Creius nods, "and Paravyan?"

"I took care of his shoulder while Yermolai was in surgery. It should be fine, the wrapping is just to give it a bit of stability—he told me it was a quick fix at the time. Otherwise he's just exhausted." Marsha looks up at him. "How's Name Day?"

"Sleeping," Creius says, "it was alcohol poisoning again, but worse this time."

"But he's okay otherwise?" Merel asks quietly and Creius nods.

"He just needs some time, but yeah, he's okay."

"Are you going to go sit with him?" Marsha asks.

Another nod, "I'll be just up the hall if you need me, and I'll drop in once Yermolai wakes up."

The two women nod, and Creius leaves them, casting one last glance at them all before he follows the hall back down to Name Day's room—and steps onto a room devoid of Name Day.

"Don't panic, he's in the bathroom," Hissabeth says, amused at whatever face he's making.

Creius breathes to force his suddenly racing heart into calming down and loiters awkardly on the doorway, "how is he?"

"Much more coherent than the last time he woke up," Hissabeth says just as the door to the bathroom clicks open and Name Day shuffles out.

Only to freeze upon seeing Creius is now in the room.

Creius watches a myriad of emotions cross Name Day's face, as if he isn't quite sure what to feel upon seeing him and steps a little further into the room just case Name Day thinks he's imagining his being there. He waits, taking in Name Day's hair, tangled and loose, and the way he trembles as if just standing is exhausting to him.

Then the tears come.

Creius surges forward and wraps his love in his arms, holding him tight and close, dropping a kiss to the top of his head, "it's okay," he murmurs, running one hand up and down Name Day's spine, "I've got you."

Name Day buries his face into Creius' chest and sobs, trembling. He doesn't say anything, but the desperation in which he clings to Creius is more than any words can say.

Creius glances over at Hissabeth who mouths he's a bit emotional lately and nods, holding Name Day firmer, bringing one hand up to wipe away the tears as they fall. Name Day leans into the touch, turning his head to kiss the palm of Creius' hand and then wipes his eyes before looking up at Creius, "I'm sorry."

"You have nothing to be sorry for," Creius says and tries to guide Name Day back towards the bed when his trembling worsens.

It's easy enough to get him settled again, and Creius sits in the chair beside Hissabeth who leans forward to take Name Day's hand into her own, squeezing it. "How are you feeling?" Hissabeth asks.

Name Day shrugs, his voice empty as he says, "tired. I'm going back to sleep."

Creius blinks, surprised when Name Day rolls over and turns his back on them. He glances at Hissabeth who just lifts a finger to her lips, a warning to be quiet, so he keeps his mouth shut. In the silence, he considers what he just witnessed; the sudden burst of emotion followed by absolute nothing, it worries Creius even though it's not the first time he's witnessed it. It's just that it's the worst he's ever seen it.

After a time, Hissabeth says quietly, "it's normal, what you just saw."

"No it's not," Creius says, crossing his arms and sighing, "he's hurting."

"Well, yes, but for now this is his normal. He's still got a decent amount of alcohol running through him, and he's scared of saying something he can't take back, so he turns away to protect us and himself."

Creius dips his head, acknowleding the words. It doesn't surprise him. Name Day's ability to care for others even when he's already hurting himself, is impressive. "Hissabeth, can you tell me what happened?"

Hissabeth watches him before she leans back in her own chair, turning to face him, "he slipped away from us during the Storm, managed to get into the alcohol and drank himself into the rehab centre. It…" she trails off and sighs, and there's a sheen to her eyes as she continues, "it wasn't great. X found him in the stairwell, covered in vodka, blood, and vomit, thought he was dead, but then realised he wasn't."

"How much did he drink?" Creius asks, clasping his hands together.

"Five or six bottles, I didn't count," Hissabeth says, "we got the call for assistance, rushed over and did what we could. With how much he drank, the priority was getting him to expel as much as we could manage, so we did, and then brought him here to sleep it off. Which is all he's really done since then."

Creius nods and lifts his hands to rub them against his face, "so we just wait then?"

"We go at his pace, Creius," Hissabeth says gently, "we can push and guide, but we can only go as fast as he can handle."

He knows this, but he needed to hear the words said aloud. Quietly, he drags his chair closer to the bed and reaches to take Name Day's hand in his own, "then we'll be there alongside him."

As it turns out, waiting is the easiest thing that Creius does. He remains sitting beside Name Day's bedside, watching over him as he sleeps for the next day and a bit before his love finally wakes up and seems interested in staying awake, and Creius gets to hold a conversation with Name Day that in his eyes, goes well. He doesn't bring up anything pertaining to Name Day's current condition, not unless his love is the one to bring it up—which he doesn't—and they instead talk about pointless things. Creius tells Name Day has much as he can about his squads most recent mission and Name Day talks to him about the experiments he's helped out with.

Just that conversation is enough to drain his love's energy, and Name Day goes back to sleep, eyes a little brighter than before.

Hissabeth leaves at some point to go take care of herself, but it isn't long before Medicine Pocket waltzes through the door, claiming the newly freed chair for themselves. They don't say anything to Creius, and all Creius offers is a quiet greeting; Medicine Pocket has never quite forgiven him for attacking them. But Creius takes the chance to leave and both stretch his legs and check in on his squad. Yermolai is awake when he walks through the door, but blissfully unaware as the anaesthesia works its way out of his system still. It's amusing to watch and Creius can't help but smile.

He tries to seek out X, to speak with the boy and find the final piece of what happened, but the door to his lab is locked and anyone he asks can't tell him if X is actually in there. Creius leaves a message with an assistant and returns to sitting beside Name Day's bed where he continues to wait and tries to come up with his own plan for helping his love get back up the slope he's fallen down. He has an idea of how to help, but as Hissabeth pointed out—gently mind you—he hasn't actually seen Name Day at his worst before, so he intends to wait and see what those who've known his love longer plan to do, and add his own thoughts to the mix.

Creius is sitting on the bed next to Name Day several days later, with his love draped half over his lap as he tries to stay awake when Madam Z walks into the room, followed by Enigma. He feels Name Day tense immediately and runs a soothing hand through the man's hair before coaxing him into sitting upright. Creius stays where he is and with a look at the two visitors, makes it clear he's going nowhere. He stays quiet though as Madam Z starts the conversation, and Creius understands then why his love goes to her for help. She keeps her voice gentle and pushes the right amount without making Name Day feel like he's trapped. Her questions start of simple enough and Creius listens to the answers given, winding an arm around Name Day's waist when his words falter. All they are are gentle enquiries into how he's feeling now that he's sobered up, before delving into how he felt before he was brought here.

It takes Name Day some time to answer that one, but they all wait patiently until he speaks, quietly admitting that it wasn't just the slope, but that there was some kind of black dog that only he could see and hear, and that it was determined to keep him at the bottom of the slope. Name Day starts to cry then and Creius holds him closer, dropping his head briefly to rest on top of Name Day's. Madam Z nods as if she knows exactly what Name Day is talking about, and Enigma steps forward then to ask his own questions. Laplace's director tries to copy that gentleness, but he's just blunt. His questions are mostly about what happened during the Storm, asking Name Day what he remembers of that day and how he got himself into the situation they found him in.

Name Day frowns, tells them he doesn't remember, and it's a truth. He was simply too drunk to know. What he does remember is watching the Storm and finding the alcohol, but that's it. Enigma asks where and Name Day tells him, head dipping in shame Creius easily recognises.

Madam Z takes over then, giving Enigma a warning look before switching the subject to what comes next. She speaks plainly, telling Name Day that he's off work until he can get back up the slope, under the guise of suffering an injury from an exploding lab—a story helped by the fact a lab did explode during the Storm courtesy of a panicked researcher. And then she seems to falter, unsure of what else to say.

Creius chimes in then, offering his own thoughts as he runs his hand over Name Day's side soothingly. Since talking and time hasn't helped this time, why not look into other methods? Treat it like the illness it is, he tells them, surely the Storm hasn't taken everything. Both Madam Z and Enigma look thoughtful at his words, and Name Day asks what he means. Creius explains it simply; Name Day stays in the rehab centre where he can be helped and monitored as if he were physically ill—just for a little bit at least—and then once he's back on the slope, they can re-evaluate.

Name Day's hands curl in the blankets, face dancing with uncertainty, and Creius drops a kiss to the top of his head, hoping that's enough of a promise that he'a only trying to be helpful.

In the end, Name Day agrees to it, but only if it won't take resources that are needed elsewhere. Enigma assures him it's fine, that he deserves the care, and leaves the room to make the arrangements. Madam Z lingers, and tells them that she has someone in mind that Name Day can talk to that might be better suited to understanding him. Name Day frowns and asks who, and the name Kakania is mentioned. Creius recognises the name although he's never met the arcanist behind it, but he knows she was a psychiatrist in Vienna, back when Lucy was the one in charge of Laplace. Name Day appears to recognise the name too, but he looks hesitant. Madam Z smiles, reassures Name Day she'll put forward his case and leave his name out of it when she speaks to the woman, just to see if she actually could help him get better in the first place. The hesitation fades after that, but there's still a bit of caution as Name Day agrees to that also.

"You're doing well, Name Day," Madam Z says as she stands and places a hand on his shoulder, "you'll get through this."

Name Day starts crying the moment she leaves, and Creius gives a quiet sigh and holds him close.

"How long did they say before you can start physical therapy?" Creius asks Yermolai a couple of weeks later, studying the man's bandaged leg.

"Doctors coming by today to check, so could be today, could be another week." Yermolai says, trying to get comfortable in a way that doesn't jostle his leg, "it's just taking its sweet ass time."

Creius nods and considers what that means. More downtime, that's for sure, considering Yermolai is a key part to their squad functioning and without him, the danger level on any mission goes up. He's sure the others will be pleased to hear it at least, he know he is even if Yermolai is not. "The others been keeping you company."

"Yeah, they stick around like ticks. I kicked them out though, told them to go touch some damn grass." Yermolai says and then looks at Creius, "loverboy came by to visit yesterday while you were over at the Foundation."

"Oh?" Creius says, "how was he?"

"You haven't seen him to ask him that yourself?"

Creius shakes his head, "he asked for some space today, so he's barred everyone but the medical staff from his room."

Yermolai chuckles, "ah well, he seemed alright, asked how I was, brought me sandwiches from the cafeteria—and yes, he ate some too before you ask. Seems a bit happier now if you ask me."

"He's been doing better," Creius says, a relieved smile on his face, "but it's only been a couple of weeks, so he still has days where its hard."

"Well no one said a stint in the rehab centre was gonna cure him," Yermolai gives a shrug and then narrows his eyes at Creius, "you been taking care of yourself?"

Creius blinks and says stupidly, "me?"

"Yes, you. You've been running about since we got back. Between the Foundation and Name Day, you're gonna crash if you don't take a break.

I'm fine lingers at the tip of his tongue, but it's a lie he doesn't wish to breathe to life. He is tired, but he's also needed and right now that's what he has to focus on. "I'll rest soon," he says instead, "Name Day needs me and you kind of do."

"I don't need your ass here, I've got three parasites already doing that job." Yermolai huffs. "Name Day kicked you out, so why not take advantage and go rest. Come back tomorrow, worry some more then."

"Okay, I'm going!" Creius stands and starts to leave, before he's stopped by Yermolai calling after him.

"Check on Paravyan too while you're there."

Creius turns slowly and looks over his shoulder, "why?"

Yermolai's grin is so wide it's nearly spreading off his face, "he's got a cold."

"Again?"

"In his defence, that last mission was brutal, I'm not surprised his immune system shit itself," Yermolai says, "Marsha's already gone all medic on him, but you know how he is."

That he does and Creius sighs before promising to check on their second youngest member and leaves Yermolai to his rest. He takes a second to peer into Name Day's own room, finding his love curled up asleep under the blankets, in a sleep that looks restful for a change, and it eases his worry enough for him to commit to getting some rest himself.

The trek to the Foundation is uneventful this time round, and Creius is soon stepping out of the elevator onto his squad's floor, making his way towards Paravyan's room and opens the door enough that he can peer into it, seeing nothing but a mountain of blankets on the bed.

"Sir?" Paravyan's congested voice greets him, and the blankets move to reveal a bleary face.

"Yermolai wanted me to check on you," Creius says and lets an amused smile fall across his face, "another cold?"

Paravyan groans and sniffs miserably, squinting at Creius, "I'd like a new immune system thanks."

Creius chuckles, "need anything?"

"Marsha's already taken care of it," Paravyan gestures towards the table that's got water and cold medicine spread across it.

"Good, rest up," Creius says and gets a grunt in response before Paravyan's head slips back under the blankets. He leaves his teammate to his misery and makes a mental note to keep an eye on him over the next few days before making his way to his own room. The moment the door shuts behind him, Creius lets out the biggest sigh and sags against it, sliding down to the floor.

Alone like this, it's easier to let himself feel everything he's been struggling with the past weeks. The mission, the Storm, Name Day's health, it's no wonder that he feels like a wound spring. He drops his head to his knees, winding his hands around the back of his neck and just breathes. He'll be okay, because he always is, but right now he just needs a minute or two to crack a little. Just a little.

After five minutes, Creius drags himself to his feet, strips, and collapses onto his bed, dragging the covers over him until he's hidden from the outside world. Sometimes he wonders if this is what his life was meant to be, if perhaps he'd made different choices then maybe he'd be better. It doesn't matter anyway, what's done is done, and he has to live with his regrets. It's just… he loves Name Day, he knows he does, and he knows that Name Day feels the same towards him—and Creius isn't a fool to think that loving someone is easy, but there's a tiny part of him that wonders if he's the right person for Name Day, if perhaps the man he loves wouldn't be better off with someone that understands his bad days better, that doesn't need to take a break in order to wrangle his own complicated emotions.

Creius sleeps, but it isn't a restful one.

When he wakes up the next day, Creius contemplates getting up and making the walk back to Laplace, but decides that if he's needed, he'll be called, and that just for today, he can rest and isolate himself. There's a split second after making that decision where his mind washes him in worry over Name Day, but he squashes it down. His love is doing better and he has to believe it. Why just last week, Creius had walked in to see Name Day carving wooden animals for the kids surrounding his bed. Kiperina, Voyager, and Avgust were all chatting with him in their homeland's tongue, and Creius had smiled before taking a seat to work on paperwork, glancing at Name Day to see his love smiling softly and engaging with the children—an approvement considering just a few days prior, he'd ignored every attempt at conversation.

So yes, Name Day is doing better, and Creius trusts that he'll continue to do better even without him there.

So he rolls over to face the wall and closes his eyes to sleep some more.

Creius walks into Name Day's room feeling lighter than he did just a few days ago and stops at the sight before him. Name Day is awake, odd considering how early in the morning it is, and it looks as if he's just showered, hair damp and pulled into a loose braid to keep it out of his face, but that's not the strangest thing in front of him. Across from Name Day, lying on his stomach is X, socked feet kicking the air, his coat draped over one of the empty chairs, and Creius notes how much younger the teen looks without it. Between them is some kind of boardgame that Creius doesn't recognise.

Name Day looks over at him and smiles, "Creius! I missed you yesterday."

A pang of guilt hits his chest like a brick, but he decides it best to just tell the truth, "I just needed a day is all."

"Are you okay?" Name Day asks with a frown.

Creius nods and crosses the room to take the chair closest to Name Day, "I'm okay, I was just a bit tired. What about you? What are you playing?"

"Some game that Ezra swears by," X says, holding up what looks like to be a sheep, "it's pretty fun if you ignore the fifty natural disasters that keep killing our sheep."

"I… see…" Creius says, more than a little curious as to why X is here. The teen isn't looking in his direction, but from where Creius is sitting, he can see X's face and it looks troubled—more than a simple boardgame should produce.

"Do you want to play?" Name Day asks, "we can start again."

"Absolutely not!" X tilts his head to glare up at Name Day, "it's taken us an hour to get to this point! I'm not starting again now."

"It's fine, I'll just watch," Creius says and does just that. He gets passed the rulebook and begins to read, quickly understand what the game is and how to play and after seeing a few turns in which X loses half his flock and Name Day almost all of his own, he can understand the teens frustration. "And Ezra said this was… fun?"

"Australians have a sick sense of fun," X grumbles, "I'd rather play Monopoly."

"Didn't Medicine Pocket eat the board last time we played?" Name Day asks, taking his turn in the game.

"They ate the chance cards, but I found another board in storage, so we can play again. Just make sure they have a damn chew toy this time." X says.

"Monopoly?" Creius asks and is surprised when two heads swivel at once to stare at him.

X stares, eyes wide before he slowly turns back to Name Day, "you're dating a man that doesn't know what Monopoly is?"

Creius feels his face start to flush.

"I didn't know what Monopoly was until I started working at the Foundation," Name Day says simply and then to Creius, "I'll show you later, perhaps we can play it with the squad."

"Sure," Creius says even though he has no idea what he's getting into.

"I'm surprised you even know what Monopoly is, X."

X scoffs, "of course I do, it's from my era."

Creius frowns and asks, "which era was that?"

The look Creius gets is one of careful consideration and he feels that perhaps he's stepped across a line he wasn't aware of before the teen answers him, "the thirties, before the Fifth Storm."

The expression on Name Day's face tells him that he already knew this so Creius just nods and leaves it at that. "So, how often are you playing boardgames?"

The question is addressed to both of them, but it's Name Day that answers, "not as often as I'd like. Games are fun, but they're time consuming and it's hard to find the time to play. But since I have a lot of time at the moment, I asked X if he had any lying about."

X grunts and takes his turn and his eyes narrow at the card he's drawn before he slams it against the bed, "I'm done! This game sucks!"

The outburst surprises Creius, but Name Day simply reaches out with a hand and runs it through X's hair in an attempt to placate him, "breathe, it's just a game. We can play something else."

X grumbles and turns his head away to face the wall, letting his feet drop to the bed. Name Day rolls his eyes and begins to pack up the game, and Creius helps where he can, even though he's not sure where the pieces actually go, but he manages and takes the board from Name Day to place it on the chair.

"Do either of you need anything?" Creius asks before he sits down, but Name Day shakes his head, and so he settles back in the chair. "Have you eaten today?"

"Ate earlier," Name Day says and leans over to glance at X before sitting back against his pillows, "sandwiches, and a cookie, from the cafeteria. You'd be proud, I ate two and kept them both down."

Creius smiles and reaches for Name Day's hand, "I'm always proud. And how are you feeling?"

Name Day takes a few seconds to answer this question, before he makes a so-so gesture. "I'm almost halfway up the slope. They say once I feel like I've reached the halfway point, they'll consider discharging me. But I first have to meet with Madam Z and Enigma to see if I'm okay to return to light duties—" Creius frowns and Name Day hurries to add on, "—basically what I was doing before I crashed."

That makes more sense, and Creius nods, "sounds like a solid plan."

"What about you?" Name Day asks, and there's a gentleness as he squeezes Creius' hand, "you said you just needed a day?"

Creius hums and glances towards X, not really wanting to discuss his own state of mind in front of a teenager.

Name Day follows his gaze, "ah, he's asleep, if that is what you are worried about."

"I see," Creius says and then sighs, "I just needed a day because everyone was a lot. The mission, the Storm… you."

"I'm sorry," Name Day apologises with a smile, "I didn't mean—"

Creius interrupts before Name Day can finish, "I know. You can't control your bad days, and that's okay, it was just a lot to deal with at once, but I'm okay now." He smiles to show he means it and is relieved when Name Day looks more at ease than stressed by his words. Another sign that he is getting better.

"I guess we are both a bit of a mess," Name Day laughs quietly, and shifts over in the bed, patting the spot beside him. Creius raises a brow but moves to sit, lifting one leg onto the bed but using the other to brace himself. The bed that barely manages to hold two people certainly isn't made for three, but X is skinny and so they make it work.

Creius looks to the teen and says hesitantly, "is he okay?"

"He just needs time. I scared him," Name Day sighs, "you know he found me, yes?"

Creius nods, "I was hoping to speak with him, to find out what happened, but I could never track him down."

Name Day hums and rests his head against Creius' shoulder, "he didn't want to be found, that's all."

Creius feels Name Day's head shift, and glances down to see his love looking up at him.

"Why do you want to know what happened, Creius?"

"I need to know," Creius says before he can stop himself and Name Day frowns, "I need to know in case this happens again, I need to know the signs to watch for so I can help when you start slipping. I do not mean to make you uncomfortable by seeking answers."

Name Day sucks in a breath and lets it out slowly, but he doesn't seem upset by Creius' words, just… confused. "Well… you aren't missing much, really. I am sure Hissabeth told you most of it."

Creius nods, "she told me the before and the after."

"Of course…" Name Day sighs, tapping his fingers against the newly healed scars on his arm, "X told me what he witnessed, because I don't quite remember what happened myself, but he… found me choking on my own vomit."

Creius stiffens, and Name Day presses into him more before he continues.

"The next thing I was aware of was someone shoving fingers down my throat, which is not at all a pleasant experience."

"But a harsh and effective treatment," Creius murmurs, familiar with the method, having used it himself a few times. It's a necessary cruelty towards the person that needs it.

Name Day hums, "they brought me here afterwards, and that was that. Does that satisfy your need to know?"

Creius nods and turns his head to place a kiss on Name Day's temple, "it does, and I'm sorry that you were hurting so much."

"What's done is done," Name Day says, "I am getting better, and all I can do is try not to let it get so bad again."

"You have done well," Creius says and wraps an arm around Name Day's waist pull him closer.

There's a knock at the door then before it opens, and both he and Name Day look over to see who's come to visit. Creius doesn't recognise the woman in the doorway, but Name Day seems to, nodding a greeting towards her, "Marguerite."

"Name Day," Marguerite smiles and inclines her head before her gaze slips over towards X, "I was wondering where he wandered off to. I hope he hasn't caused any trouble."

"We were just playing a game that Ezra sent over," Name Day says.

Marguerite chuckles and steps into the room, "you don't mind if I take him off your hands then? I assume he has spoken to you about what was bothering him?"

Name Day nods, "we spoke, he just needs a little bit of time is all, but he'll be okay."

"Thank you, I must admit upon treading unfamiliar ground with the mood he was in," Marguerite says, picking up X's coat and shoes in one hand before sliding over to his sleeping form. Creius watches as she gets the teen's arms around her before lifting him effortlessly, and either X is the lightest teenager ever, or this Marguerite is just strong. She smiles at them both, and there's something in her eyes that Creius automatically distrusts, "I hear you have been unwell, Name Day, I hope you are doing better?"

"I am, thanks," Name Day says and then nods to X, "take care of him."

"Of course," Marguerite says and then exits the room as calmly as she entered it.

Creius waits for the door to shut before he says, "she's… odd."

"She works for Laplace, they're all a bit odd." Name Day says and then shuffles down the bed and stretches out his legs, tugging Creius into laying down beside him. Creius does so and smiles when Name Day curls into him, burying his face into the crook of Creius' neck, "I've missed you."

"I've missed you as well," Creius murmurs and tilts Name Day's head up enough that he can steal a proper kiss, the first he's been able to in a long time.

"Look who's back!"

Creius steps back just before Hissabeth gets her arms around Name Day and spins him around, a wide smile on her face. To his credit, Name Day returns the embrace and manages to keep his feet as he also smiles, "I'm not all the way there yet, but I am well enough to come give you a hand if you need it."

"What a stupid thing to say, of course I have things you can help with," Hissabeth drags Name Day further into her lab, looking over her shoulder at Creius, "you can have him back later."

"Let me say bye at least," Name Day says, tugging out of Hissabeth's grip to step back over to Creius, leaning up to give him a kiss, "I'll be okay if you have things to do."

Creius nods and draws Name Day into his arms, "I'll see you later then."

They share one final kiss before Hissabeth comes back over and snatches Name Day away from him, already chattering about some new experiment. Creius watches for a moment, his heart warm at the familiar sight that he hasn't seen in a long time, before he turns to leave the two friends to whatever it is that they do. He does have things to do but there's no rush in doing them considering that it's mostly paperwork since he and the rest of his squad are on downtime until Yermolai's fit for duty again.

He's admittedly spent most of his downtime with Name Day, helping wherever he could as his love clawed his way back up the slope, and he knows that Name Day's appreciated his presence—especially on the days where he had slipped a little. But now that Name Day's been discharged from the rehab centre and tentatively cleared for light work, Creius finds himself unsure of what to do with himself. He doesn't want to hover and become an unwanted presence, but he also wants to make sure that he's close enough should his love need him.

But then again… he's not the only one Name Day can rely on now; he has his friends who are more aware than ever of his struggles, a support that has in turn, been extended towards himself which he hadn't expected. It's… nice, if a little unnerving but perhaps with a little bit of time, it'll get easier.

By morning, Name Day's stomach was churning, but whether it was from nerves or excitement, or a combination of the two, he couldn't tell. But he'd slept well surprisingly, waking up a little earlier than intended, so he just lay there, thinking about what the day held for him. Creius had said he'd come collect Name Day in the early morning so they could avoid most of the Foundations staff and have plenty of time together. Name Day wished he had asked for an exact time before his definition of early morning was most certainly different to Creius'. No matter, he could start to get ready at least, and if Creius showed up in the meantime, he could just wait.

He had just finished showering and tugged on the pants he was going to wear, when there was a knock at the door. Name Day blinked before he hurried over to open it and smiled when Creius stood there, jacket resting over one arm. Name Day studied his something, taking in his chosen outfit; black pants that hugged his legs nicely, a creamy coloured turtleneck and some short boots that were so different to the ones he used for his uniform, it surprised Name Day a little. But his something looked absolutely stunning. He suddenly became aware that he was only half dressed and stepped aside so Creius could enter, "you're a little early."

"Sorry," Creius said, stepping into the room and beelining for the bed. He sat on the edge of it with a tired sigh.

"You alright?" Name Day asked, shutting the door and wandering over, concerned.

Creius looked up at him and smiled, giving him a nod, "I'm fine, just had to check in with medical. Forgot I'd made that appointment before we made ours."

Name Day's lips twitched in amusement, "well I'm not ready yet, so you can rest while I finish. I should not be too long though."

Creius nodded, eyes roaming over his body before his cheeks gained a faint dusting of pink. "You look nice."

"I'm not even wearing a shirt yet," Name Day chuckled before he disappeared into the bathroom to finish getting ready. He left the door open a crack in the small chance that Creius needed his aid and went back to what he'd been doing. Hissabeth had suggested pretty but simple before she'd left yesterday, so that was what Name Day was doing. He grabbed his shirt and pulled it on, folding the sleeves up when they fell past his elbows. They were a little longer than he remembered them being, but no matter, it was easy enough to tuck them into place. He followed by tucking his shirt into his pants, making sure the shirt didn't rumple or blossom out like some shirts did, and after checking, he looked himself over in the mirror.

His hair was down, as Hissabeth had suggested, freshly washed and admittedly… fluffy. He still wore his braid, but he'd taken the time to thread silver beads into it, and he tucked it behind his ear. There was a tie around his wrist just in case having his hair down got too annoying, but he hoped to not have to use it. The rest of his outfit was simple; white shirt with slitted sleeves, a simpler version of the one he wore for some fundraising event the Foundation had held, black pants with golden thread threaded through the belt loops, and high boots that he'd left out in his room. He made a final check of things before he stepped out of the room and smiled when he spotted Creius stretched on his bed, eyes closed.

"I'm almost ready." Name Day called, and blue eyes shot open.

Creius pushed himself upright and yawned, "sorry, I didn't mean to fall asleep."

Name Day waved a hand and took a seat on the end of the bed, reaching for his boots and slipping them on. "It's okay," he stood and offered a hand for Creius to take, "come show me this place you are taking me."

Smiling, Creius took his hand and slipped on his jacket, and Name Day flushed a little at how much more handsome it made the man. Together, they walked out of Name Day's room and set off for the ground floor of the Foundation. Name Day could feel Creius' eyes running over him and gave a faint smile. As it turned out, simple was more than enough to catch his something's attention, and he loved it. He didn't often dress up, so to be given the chance to dress in something for a date, it was nice.

Since it was early morning, the halls were empty, and they both remained unaccosted as they stepped outside into the dawn light. It was beginning to cool down now, but wasn't yet cold enough for Name Day to need a jacket and he lifted his head to smell the crisp morning air. It was a good morning, and this time nothing would go wrong.

"May I?" Creius said, offering an arm to him, and Name Day nodded, looping his arm with Creius'.

"You may," Name Day bumped his head against Creius' shoulder gently, "are you going to tell me where we are going?"

"No." Creius said, a teasing lilt in his voice. "It's just a simple surprise, but one all the same."

Name Day's curiosity was peaked—it was the investigator within him, what could he sat?—but he didn't ask further, allowing Creius to guide him further away from the Foundation's borders and towards the city their headquarters were based in. It surprised Name Day just how quiet the streets were, with only a few other early birds wondering the streets at this time of day. Some of them were like he and Creius were, enjoying a simple stroll about the morning, but a few hurried about, dressed for work, and Name Day wished those people good luck with their days if they were already in a rush.

It was pleasant though, to just walk about and forget the rest of the world.

They walked a slow pace, set by what Creius' body could handle—not that Name Day was in any rush. It was rare these days for them to have time to spend together and he had every intention of enjoying what time they did have. He spared a glance towards Creius and smiled at the peaceful look his something wore, more relaxed than he had been in a long time. It was hard to believe that only a few weeks ago, Creius had still been in the recovery ward, and aside from the stiffness that lingered in one shoulder, it was impossible to tell.

"Are you happy to be out?" Name Day asked once they'd walked a couple of streets.

Creius nodded, "very. I was allowed out with supervision, but I couldn't go far, this is the first time I've been away from the Foundation since my coma."

"I'm surprised your squad didn't try to break you out."

"Oh they tried," Creius smirked and glanced down at Name Day, "and got themselves thrown out by Miss Mesmer when they broke something important."

Name Day chuckled, able to easily imagine the XII squad sneaking about the medical wing to try and break Creius out. He had to wonder what they had broken to invoke Mesmer Jr's wrath; it either had to be expensive or irreplacable. "I hope they learnt their lesson."

"I'm pretty sure that Merel nearly had a heart attack," Creius said, "Yermolai as usual, was unbothered, and Marsha and Paravyan at least seemed guilty. Nevertheless, it's my responsibility to replace it."

So it had been something expensive then.

Name Day tightened his grip on Creius' arm before he let go in favour of holding his something's hand instead, squeezing it reassuringly. "I'm sure it will be fine. But today's not about your squad's shenanigans."

Creius hummed and then slowed, looking towards a street sign, "this way, we're almost there."

Name Day allowed himself to be tugged down a pretty street and looked about at the plants and trees that lined the footpath. This street was a little busier, full of people walking about, lingering outside shops and other businesses as they waited for them to open. The shop fronts were beautiful to look at, a testament to the time they were constructed in, and a pang of sadness ran through him at knowing that all it would take for them to disappear was a little rain. But in a way that made him appreciate them all the more, which was why he didn't notice that Creius had stopped until he was gently tugged back.

"Where are you going?" Creius smiled at him and pointed towards a building that looked just about to open. "We're here."

Name Day stopped and looked, blinking in surprise; it was a cafe. "This looks nice, have you been here before?"

"Once, a while ago," Creius said and then after a moment, added quietly, "in another era, so I'm not sure if it will be the same as it was then."

"Only one way to find out." Name Day said and tugged Creius towards the door just as a worker opened the door. The worker, a young woman looked at them and smiled, welcoming them in with a sweeping gesture.

The inside of the cafe was just as lovely as the outside, all wooden and cosy looking. It was so different to the Foundation and Laplace that it felt like they'd stepped into a completely different time. There was a fire place against one wall, along with a few window seats that looked out into the street they had entered from, and there were plants everywhere. Some sat in pots in the corners, or by the pillars in the middle of the building, and others hung from the rafters. Name Day caught sight of a window seat next to a bookshelf and didn't even wait for Creius as he made his way towards it. He stopped just before the bookshelf and looked over his shoulder, "are we allowed to touch these?"

Creius hummed and turned to ask the worker who nodded and told them to just be careful and that the books were to not leave the cafe under any circumstance. Then she handed Creius a couple of menus before hurrying off to continue doing her job.

Name Day took his time just studying the book titles in front of him. Many of them were english texts that he'd never heard of before, but there were a few in other languages that piqued his interest even if he wouldn't have a hope in reading them. He heard Creius drag a chair out and glanced over to see him sit heavily in the seat, eyes closed.

"Are you alright?" Name Day asked.

Creius was quick to nod, "just been a while since I walked so far. I'll be okay in a minute."

"Let me know if you aren't, we can always try again later." Name Day said and waited a moment before he went back to looking at the books. He was surprised when he found one in his own language and plucked it off the shelf carefully. It was a children's book, illustrated, but not one he was familiar with. Name Day ran a finger over the lettering, smiling fondly before he claimed the window seat.

Creius opened his eyes and straightened in his chair, "found something?"

Name Day nodded, "children's book I do not know." He reached for one of the menu's Creius had placed on the table. "Seems like a simple menu."

"Sometimes simple is good," Creius said, "I did check to make sure there were things you would eat."

Name Day's heart warmed at the kind gesture and he couldn't keep the smile off his face as he read over each item. "You are too good for me."

"I think I'm the right amount of good, actually."

With a hum, Name Day nudged Creius' leg affectionately and leaned forward to lock his fingers together, resting his chin on top so he could watch Creius where he sat to the right, choosing to sit beside the table rather than across from it. Name Day didn't mind, it was nice to have Creius within reach.

The worker came over then to take their order, placing a bottle of water on the table along with two glasses, and Name Day chose to try the pancakes. He'd tried them once after joining the Foundation and found he rather enjoyed them although he'd been told the Foundation never quite did them right. Creius ordered something that sounded foreign and a quick glance at the menu showed it was just eggs, some kind of… cheese and a salad with toast. Simple, too simple almost.

"Will that be enough for you?" Name Day asked carefully.

Creius caught his meaning immediately. "It'll be the heaviest thing I've eaten, I'm just playing it safe."

"Okay," Name Day said with a smile and then ordered a coffee before the worker could leave. She nodded and scribbled down the order and turned to Creius who shook his head, telling her just water was fine.

More people were starting to trickle into the cafe now, filling the seats with early morning chatter. Name Day watched them as they entered; the cafe must have been a popular place to come and eat. The new people gave the cafe a life it'd been lacking before and the worker hurried to tend to each table.

"How did your last job go?" Creius asked him, resting and arm on the table and leaning against it.

"It took me to a mountain the locals call Suur Munamägi. Not a very tall mountain, but tall enough, there was an arcane disturbance I was to check out." Name Day explained, recalling the days of hiking through wilderness he'd done, tracking the arcane fluctuations until he'd come across… nothing. "There was no arcanist, no arcane item, just the fluctuations. I sent my findings to Laplace once I got back. I think Windsong and X are going out to investigate it."

"What do you think it was?" Creius asked.

Name Day shrugged, "I don't know. I've picked up a couple of things from working with Laplace, but I'm no researcher. I'm sure they'll tell me when they get back."

Their food arrived then, and Name Day looked at his chosen meal with delight. They looked good, soft and fluffy just as the last ones he'd eaten had been—even more so if it were even possible. He took a bite and smiled. Good food always made one's days better, and he was going to savour this meal. Creius too, seemed to be enjoying his meal and the silence was a pleasant one as they ate. More than once, he caught Creius' eyes flicking towards him, and he had to admit that he was doing the same. He couldn't help it, it was the first time he'd really seen Creius in anything other than his Foundation uniform and the outfit that Creius had chosen set Name Day's heart off-kilter. In a good way. His something just looked that good.

Name Day finished eating first, and decided to flick through the book whilst Creius continued to nibble at his own. It was a collection of folk stories, some he had heard told to him by his elder brother, some he hadn't. If only he could've taken the book with him, he could've passed it onto Vila for her to read to her students. But he would remember the title and pass it on when he next saw her.

He was startled out of his reading when Creius grabbed his hand, thumb brushing over his knuckles. Name Day put away the book and rested his cheek against his hand as he looked down at Creius, the window seat giving him just that little bit of extra height. "Yes?"

Creius just gave his hand a squeeze, sliding his chair a little closer before linking their fingers together, "nothing. It's just been nice."

"After the past couple of months, I think something nice is what we needed." Name Day said. "And I liked it."

The smile on Creius' face grew larger and he brought Name Day's hand to his mouth, pressing a kiss to the knuckles. "Join me for a morning stroll then?"

"Hmm…" Name Day made a show of thinking it over before he nodded, "okay."

Together they rose, and hand in hand, they left the cafe and set off slowly down the street, not towards the Foundation, but just wherever their feet decided to take them. Neither of them spoke; Name Day was content to just feel Creius' warm hand in his own as they walked. The streets were busier now that the sun was up, but right then it felt as if it were just the two of them in their own little world. To think that if it weren't for the Storm, every day could be like this instead of snatched time wherever they could take it.

They walked and walked—and then took a break when Creius' body had had enough and forced him to rest a time before they could continue.

Then they walked some more, quietly talking about the things they saw before they turned to head back to the Foundation.

It was busier than when they left, but no one paid them any mind as they walked through the lobby and then the halls, and Name Day didn't question when Creius tugged him down the path that would take him to his room; he followed happily, still riding the joy the day had brought him. Then he was being pulled into Creius' room and the moment the door was shut, he let go of his something's hand, and turned to slot himself against Creius' chest instead, winding his arms around the man's waist. Creius immediately cupped his face, leaning down to claim his lips for himself and Name Day stretched into the kiss, wanting more.

The kiss was soft and gentle, and Name Day welcomed it. His fingers curled into the back of Creius' jacket and he shivered as Creius' hands slid down to rest on his waist, leaving a warm trail where his fingers brushed against his skin. Name Day moved across the room, slowly, guided by Creius' careful steps until a bed bumped against the back of his legs. He made to fall back, only to be caught and lowered like he were something precious and he smiled into a face that stared at him with nothing but love and tenderness.

Name Day shuffled up the bed a little and Creius followed, hovering over him as he brushed a hand over his cheek, leaning down for another kiss. It was a shorter kiss, followed quickly be one to his cheek, to his jaw, and then to the underneath of his neck. It was like a caress, warm and light and if Creius asked him to give himself completely right then and there, he would have done it in a heartbeat. But Creius didn't ask, he only offered, and Name Day accepted it. His hands moved, sliding under clothes to chase the warmth he so desired, and he smiled at the shiver he got in response, sighed at the kisses that roamed further down his neck.

As gentle as it was, it was also simple, the both of them venturing into territory they hadn't discussed with each other yet. It was not something unfamiliar to Name Day, but it was not something he offered freely either. For him there had to be purpose, there had to be feelings behind the act and those feelings were there. They'd been there since that day in the snow with the aurora overhead, perhaps even earlier, and although there was no aurora this day, it was no less special. Name Day turned his head, distracting Creius from his journey, to kiss his something's brow and coax him back up so he could steal a proper kiss.

Creius indulged him and gently tugged him upright where they held each other close and murmured quiet endearments into the morning air. Name Day's eyes slipped shut and his body seemed to move of its own accord, hands brushing over scars and well defined muscles. There were hands against his own body too, warm, gentle, exploring. When they had shed clothes, he did not know, but as he wound his arms around Creius' neck and kissed his jaw, hearts beating together, he found he could care less. This felt right.

Their breaths mingled together as Name Day rose to press his head to Creius', and even more clothes were shed.

The touches that followed were even softer than the ones before. Name Day was lowered again, a kiss pressed to his lips before they trailed down his skin. His neck, his chest, his stomach, a gentle kiss was placed in a line down and down, and a burning heat began to rise within him. Fingers laced with his own, warm words greeting his ears and Name Day fell to pieces in a way he never had before. More kisses and even more touches that added fuel to the rising heat, Name Day opened his eyes so he could see what kind of face his something was making.

Creius smiled as their eyes met, and Name Day used his free hand to gently cup a scarred cheek.

Perhaps this was what he'd been missing in recent years.

When Creius rose to steal another kiss, the bed began to rock beneath them and the heat turned into a pleasure that had Name Day feeling more than ever had. Bliss, it was bliss that he was feeling and he buried his face into the crook of a neck as the gentle rocking lulled him into a net of safety and love. Quiet I love you's fell from his lips, murmured into the warm skin beneath his lips and he received a kiss to his temple that told him the feelings were returned even if they weren't spoken. The pleasure continued to rise until it was all Name Day could feel, until it fell over him in waves and left behind a tiredness that left him smiling. Creius too, smiled softly, sharing the same tiredness but also one from exertion.

Name Day couldn't bring himself to scold his something for being careless when it was clearly something they had both wanted.

And he didn't mind taking care of Creius when his something had cared for him many times over.

How could Name Day forget that Medicine Pocket had seen him at his worst? They'd been apart of the Foundation from the time of the first 'Storm', they'd seen a lot of bad days in their time here—they had even been the one who patched up the wounds that were now scars, and who had ignored Name Days reassurance of 'I am fine' to go straight to Madam Z and get him the help he'd needed.

"I…" Name Day started before trailing off with a sigh, "yeah, it might be a bad bad day."

"Do I need to get Madam Z involved yet?"

Name Day shook his head, a hint of a smile on his face, "only if you catch me drinking in the archives again."

Medicine Pocket snorted and pulled out the final shard of glass, reaching for the bandages and disinfectant. "Cracking jokes, I see. Consider me unworried." There was a brief pause before they continued. "You can spend the day here if you'd like, I'm only filing reports today."

Well that wasn't like the chaotic researcher at all.

"Everythi—" Name Day cut himself off as he realised that the entire time Medicine Pocket had been helping him, that they had an IV that disappeared under their shirt, something that most wouldn't bat an eye at, but Name Day was well aware of Medicine Pocket's unpredictable health. "Are you alright?"

Medicine Pocket waved away the concern and quickly began to wrap Name Day's hand, "your having a bad day mentally, I'm having a bad day physically. Together, we can have the baddest of bad days."

Name Day huffed a laugh, "only if it is not a bother."

"The only thing that'll bother me, Name Day, is if you take up that entire couch when I want a nap."

When the next morning came and Name Day still felt like the worst person on earth, he decided to be smart and go to Madam Z himself, if only to ask for a few days off to try and get through this funk of his on his own before taking the next leap and admitting that he might need someone else to guide him until he could climb back up the slope himself. Madam Z had been kind about his request—it wasn't her first time dealing with the emotional turmoil of the Arcanists under the Foundation, and it certainly wasn't her first time in dealing with him in particular. A couple of times, her eyes had fallen to his bandaged hand, and Name Day knew she was thinking of the first time he'd sat in her office in a much worse state. At least this time it was of his own volition.

"I'll push through the appropriate paperwork, so you can take today as well." Madam Z said.

Name Day blinked, surprised. "I can work—"

"Name Day," Madam Z interrupted gently and he slammed his mouth shut. "I heard what happened with Avgust. Take today as well."

"Okay." Name Day was quiet as he picked at the bandages on his hand. "Thank you."

Madam Z just smiled at him, "I'm just glad you came to me of your own accord this time. And if you need help again, my door is open, okay?"

Name Day nodded and stood, wanting to get back to his room before the rest of the Foundation started to wake up. The last thing he wanted was to snap at someone else who didn't deserve it just because they looked at him. He nodded a farewell and hurried to the door, stopping when Madam Z called his name.

"Name Day?"

He turned to look at her.

"Creius gets back from his mission today. He'll ask about you most likely." The unspoken question was there; should I tell him the truth?

Part of Name Day wanted her to tell Creius that he wasn't around because he didn't want to worry the man when he was coming off what had probably been a difficult mission, but… this probably wouldn't be the first time that Name Day found himself in such a state, and if Creius couldn't handle him at his worst, then whatever was blossoming between them had no chance of ever working out.

"Just tell him I'll be in my room if he asks," Name Day said, stomach coiling anxiously, "I…"

Madam Z nodded, "feel better soon, Name Day."

The clock in Name Day's room said it was just after eleven in the morning when his door creaked open, and he sat up just as Creius stepped through it, and there was a smile on his face in an instant. Creius smiled back at him and shut the door behind him. His hair was damp from showering before coming here, and he was dressed in the sweatpants and turtleneck that he always wore in his downtime. And right now he was the most beautiful thing in Name Day's world.

"Hi." Name Day said, patting the bed beside him.

Creius crossed the room to sit next to him, leaning in for a quick kiss before he did so. "Hello."

Name Day shifted to lean against Creius' shoulder, knocking his head gently before he collapsed back to the bed, using his good hand to drag Creius down with him. He gave his something the time needed to get comfortable before he shuffled closer, getting as close as he could without laying on top of Creius. An arm found its way around him, warm hand splayed across his lower back, and Name Day could feel his bad day evaporating bit by bit.

He was no fool to think that a good embrace would fix everything, but it certainly helped.

After some time of just laying next to each other, Creius said quietly, "my mission went well, would you like to hear about it?"

In an instant, the goodness was shattered and Name Day suddenly felt like the worst person on earth. The way their time together always started with Name Day asking how Creius' day had gone, because it was easier if Name Day was the one to start that first conversation. "I'm sorry, was it okay?"

Creius' brow furrowed and he turned onto his side to watch Name Day carefully. "There were no casualties, so it went very well, and we managed to smooth over the tensions in the area in a way that means we shouldn't need to come back, but we'll keep an eye on things just in case." There was a brief pause before a quiet question followed, "are you alright?"

Rather than answer, Name Day just buried his head into Creius' chest. He wasn't sure if he could even voice how he was feeling, he hardly ever knew how he felt himself.

A calloused hand found its way into his hair, and Name Day sighed at the contact. Creius kept his voice quiet as he spoke, "Madam Z told me you had the next few days off. She wouldn't tell me why, but I ran into a Foundation worker who seemed a bit disgruntled at having to pick up your work suddenly. Has something happened?"

Name Day closed his eyes and took a breath, "it is… not a good day."

"What happened?"

"No, like…" Name Day trailed off, struggling to find the words before he found them, "nothing has happened, but it is still a bad day. I cannot explain it better, really, but I am not great company right now so… I am sorry."

"I understand," Creius murmured, tugging Name Day closer to him, "can I help?"

"This helps." It wasn't a lie; being here in Creius' warm embrace had already helped to soothe him, and the fingers running through his hair threatened to send him drifting to sleep as much as he tried to fight it. This wasn't any different to how they spent their time together, but it was good.

He felt the kiss against the crown of his head and melted even further.

They spent the next several minutes like this before Creius asked, "can I ask what happened? To your hand I mean."

"Oh I may have punched a mirror. Medicine Pocket patched me up so I will be fine."

Creius hummed and moved one hand to grab and hold Name Day's good hand, and his eyes slipped shut—until fingers brushed over the scars on his fist.

"I will not ask where they came from, but… this bad day, is it something that happens often?"

Name Day couldn't help but stiffen, it was just in his nature to avoid conversations that turned in on himself. He drew his good hand to himself, tugging his sleeve up to hide the marks the way he'd always done back when they'd been fresher and he had been ashamed of them. His blood pounded in his ears and he swallowed uneasily; it had been years since he felt this way and he still had no easy way of dealing with it.

But unlike back then, he wasn't alone, and despite his attempts to hide, Creius simply curled around him with his larger frame, murmuring into Name Day's ear, "it's okay."

"I know, I know…" Name Day sighed and pressed his face into Creius' chest. "The days happen less than they used to, but yes… they still happen."

"Okay," Creius said and after a moment of silence, "most of my scars came from battles, but there's a few that didn't. The one on my face was given to me before I joined up with the Foundation."

Name Day opened his eyes, allowed them to fall towards the scar on Creius' face, the X-shape sharp and distinct. He had never asked Creius where the scar came from in the time they had been seeing each other; scars brought up unwanted memories sometimes, Name Day had always found it best to not ask about them to those that wore them. He smiled softly at Creius, "you do not have to tell me."

"I want to," Creius reassured him, "it was some time ago, and the person that gave them to me is long dead. It was from someone I thought a friend, that sought to hurt me just because of who I was. It was during a time when being an Arcanist wasn't a good thing, and they decided everyone had to know what I was. They pinned me down and carved the scar you see, and it wasn't long after that that I was recruited to the Foundation. But whilst all Arcanists carry scars, at the time mine was the most visible, the freshest, the one that everyone stared at."

In the breath that Creius took, Name Day reached up and rested his hand against Creius's scarred cheek. "Is that why you don't look at anyone directly?"

"Yes." There was an old sadness to Creius' eyes. "I felt great shame, and found it hard to trust anyone. But I healed, and I am still here now."

Name Day smiled, brushing his thumb over his somethings scar before he leaned up and pressed his lips to it in a chaste kiss. He bumped his forehead against Creius'. "I appreciate you telling me."

"I don't expect you to tell me about yours, Name Day, but I thought it might help."

"It did." Name Day said and waited a few heartbeats before he decided to share his own story. It felt right, to trust Creius with his weakest moment after Creius had trusted him with his own. "It wasn't long after I joined the Foundation."

He held up his hands and flexed his fingers where thin white scars lay scattered. "These ones came from the carving I did for my siblings. I didn't get as good as I am now without nicking my fingers lots."

Then he raised his wrist, where the deeper scars rested. "I lost my family in the Storm, and joined the Foundation soon after. It is safe to say that I did not cope very well with the loss. I threw myself into work, I drank, I hid from everyone—I coped poorly. Then the next Storm happened and I met Avgust and Vila, and little Avgust reminded me so much of myself that I spiraled a bit. A lot, actually.

I took a blade to my own skin, in an attempt to get rid of the despair I felt. It did not help, and I panicked." Name Day huffed a laugh, "it was how I first became acquainted with Medicine Pocket. They ran into me, saw the tears, the wounds, the blood, and just… took me to their lab. Stitched me up, lent me their couch, and an ear for what I was feeling."

"Did it help?" Creius asked quietly, wrapping a warm hand around a scarred wrist, touch gentle and reassuring.

"It did not. The next night I was in the archives, getting drunk over my lost past. Someone was alerted, unknown to me, and when I left Medicine Pocket was there again. They kept me company, and the next morning, Madam Z was knocking on my door, asking to talk."

Creius let out a hum, lifting Name Day's wrist to kiss the scars there. That touch was gentle too, like a feather.

"I will not lie and say I was willing at the time, but Madam Z got me help—without anyone else in the Foundation knowing somehow—and Medicine Pocket supported me through it."

"I am glad you had them to help. And…" Creius let go of his wrist to grab his hand instead and gave it a gentle squeeze, "you have me too now. I am willing to listen, to be your rock when you need it if you will have me."

Name Day chuckled and shuffled closer to Creius. "You and half of Laplace apparently. Thank you, my love—"

Name Day broke off suddenly with a furious blush and hid his face into Creius' chest—not before seeing Creius' own flushed cheeks.

"So, uh, any stupid scars?" Name Day asked, trying to lighten the mood.

Creius blinked. "Stupid scars?"

"Yeah, like, scars you got from doing something stupid. Or reckless. You know, like my knee."

"Your knee isn't stupid." Creius frowned.

"Yes it was," A smile grew on Name Day's face, "surely you have a scar or two that has a light story to go with it. We have already shared the depressing ones."

Creius' frown vanished and he held up his hands where there were identical scars at the top of his wrists. "I fell out of a tree as a child. Twice. The same tree too, and the same jagged branch."

Name Day snorted, "why did you climb the tree again after you fell out the first time?"

"I was trying to get a toy that I had thrown into it." Creius' cheeks were pink, and he was pointedly looking past Name Day.

Aww, he's embarrassed, Name Day thought imagining a much younger Creius trying to climb a tree with the determination that he knew and loved. It didn't surprise him one bit that after falling out the first time, Creius had tried again. It was just like him to keep trying until he succeeded.

"Did you get your toy back?" Name Day asked.

Creius nodded, "I did."

"Tell me about another scar?" Name Day murmured, curious now. He didn't have nearly as many scars as Creius did, but he had a few he could remember the stories of that he could share.

"Of course," Creius said and launched into a story about a scar on his leg that he'd gotten the first time he tried to handle a knife.

Most of the stories involved fighting of some kind, reminding Name Day that his… love, his something was a soldier, and although it tugged at his heartstrings to know that Creius would one day have more scars, he still listened and committed each story he heard to memory.

Not even a second passed before Creius tried to get his feet under him, Razor and the squad leader on his other side getting their hands under him to help haul him upright—a terrible decision, really, considering the world nearly turned upside down as he moved faster than his body was willing, and he nearly crashed back to the floor, would've, if not for the two people bracing him between them.

"Is there a problem, gentleman?" Constantine's voice filtered through the pain and Creius tensed, lifting his head to at least try and pretend he didn't just fall down in front of everyone, but the sharp spike of pain behind his eye had him lifting a hand to press hard against it, trying to ease it just a little. There was no chance of hiding how unwell he was now.

His saviour came in the form of one of the younger committee members, watching him in sympathy as she said, "the squad leaders have their orders, surely they can be dismissed now?"

Quiet murmuring echoed through the table before Constantine waved a hand to quiet them, "very well, you are all dismissed."

Creius took a step back before freezing as the woman continued.

"Creius, the next time you wake with a migraine, consider sending one of your team to stand in your place, so we can avoid such a spectacle."

He stiffened and jerked his head in a nod, "yes ma'am."

"And the XII squad's departure can be delayed until you recover since you'll need every available man for this job." Constantine finished, her words sounding kind, but Creius knew better. Her mercy today would come at a price later.

Creius nodded once more and allowed himself to be dragged from the room, stumbling between the two that were keeping him upright, squeezing his eyes shut to try and lessen the pain. As far as migraines go, this one really could've waited until he'd been in his room to show up because he certainly wasn't going to hear the end of him collapsing in a meeting. Not his finest moment if he was being honest, although he was grateful for the two carting him towards what he hoped was the floor his squad lived on. He could hide out there for the few days it took for the pain to cease and then try to pretend he'd never had a migraine in the first place.

They reached the elevator, and Razor asked after pushing the button, "your floor or medical?"

"My floor," Creius said, cracking one eye open just as the elevator opened, "everything I need is there."

Razor nodded, and said something to the other squad leader, before dragging Creius into the elevator and following him in. The doors shut and it was just the two of them. Creius clung to the railing, sure that if he weren't wearing gloves, his knuckles would be white, and Razor stood on his other side, using both hands to keep him from hunching over on the floor. The elevator dinged to signal their arrival, and the sound ricocheted about Creius' skull and he fought against the hands holding him to shove his own into his eyesockets, pressing hard. He thought he was kneeling, cold metal pressed against his knees, but he couldn't be too sure.

"Yermolai! Delivery!" Razor shouted and Creius wanted to reach up and strangle the man as his words added to the pain.

But then he was being dragged from the elevator, tossed over a shoulder like a pack, all before he could bring the threat to life and he heard Yermolai's gruff voice ask, "what happened."

"A migraine, he collapsed in the meeting. You get a delayed departure because of it, lucky you."

"By all means," Yermolai said, gesturing at Creius, "you are more than welcome to deal with this yourself."

Razor was wisely silent, and there was another ding as the elevator departed.

Creius let out a groan, lifting his hands to dig them into the bottom of his eyes and alleviate some of the throbbing pressure there, "my room… please."

"Yeah, yeah, I'm getting ya there." Yermolai said, striding down the hall towards his room. "Loverboy's in there though."

"That's fine." Creius murmured. His entire squad could camp out in his room for all he cared right now; but honestly, having Name Day there might actually make him feel better.

Instead of his bed as he first thought, Creius found himself being dumped on the couch in the common room instead, and his hands were pulled away before being replaced with much warmer ones that were quick to apply pressure in all the right spots that made it less painful to exist. Creius opened his eyes to see Yermolai in front of him, the tiniest hint of concern on his face—and amusement. He was about to question the detour when another hand that wasn't Yermolai's grabbed his wrist, and the stabbing pain turned into a dull ache, an inconvenience more than dibilitating. His eyes went wide, and he quickly spotted Marsha. "Don't overuse your skill."

"I won't." Marsha promised.

"It's just so you can debrief us, so don't get used to whatever you're feeling right now," Yermolai said, "where are we going?"

"Rural Slovakia," Creius murmured, "was supposed to be ASAP but then," he paused to gesture at himself, "we've been given leeway to depart once I am able."

"Great, so three days time," Yermolai said, looking rather pleased as he turned to Marsha, "the migraines happen when our foolish leader here forgets he's actually a human being. One day of pain, one day of puking his guts up, and one day of sleep. Like clockwork, every time."

Marsha hummed and asked, "what helps?"

"Sleep usually, along with dark and quiet," Yermolai said and then glanced at him, "you still got the heavy duty painkillers?"

Creius waved towards his room, "somewhere in there. Pressure also helps."

Yermolai chuckled but pressed his thumbs harder against Creius' eyesockets, "that it does, but we can't have ya gouging your eyes out either. Don't worry, Creius, I know the drill."

That was a harsh truth, considering how long he and Yermolai had worked together for him to understand exactly how Creius' migraines worked and were triggered.

He groaned as the pain returned, eyes clenched shut as both Yermolai and Marsha hauled him from the couch and toward his room, just as the door opened as if waiting for their approach. Quiet footsteps moving out of the way told him who exactly at opened the door, and despite his throbbing skull, he smiled. "Name Day."

"Creius," that familiar gentle voice easing the pain just the tiniest bit, "what do you need me to do?"

Yermolai spoke up before Creius could, "just get him comfortable, I'll grab what ya need and then he's all yours."

"Okay," Name Day said and then it was his love guiding him to the bed that Creius readily collapsed against. Gentle hands tugged at his coat until he sat up enough for it to be removed, and the moment it was, he slumped back against the bed, feeling as one boot was removed, and then the other, before Name Day nudged him into moving further up the bed. "You'll feel better with a pillow underneath your head."

He wasn't wrong, but the pillow only made him comfortable; it did nothing for the pain, but then Yermolai was there, shoving pills into his hand and nagging him into swallowing them—he did, shuddering as they went down. Then he was manhandled a bit more, into a position that actually did help alleviate the ache in his head, followed quickly by a freezing cold wet cloth that was draped over his eyes.

"If he tries to gouge his eyes out—not literally—it just means he needs pressure," Yermolai was saying to Name Day, "and if he complains about a stiff neck you just have to decapitate him—also not literally."

Silenced followed his words as Yermolai no doubt demonstrated what he meant. Name Day hummed and rested a hand on Creius' knee, a welcome presence. "Anything else?"

"Painkillers should kick in and knock him out pretty quick. If they don't, have fun with misery itself. But they should, they usually do."

"Thanks, Yermolai," Name Day said quietly and soon the door shut, leaving them alone. Creius heard Name Day sigh before he moved up the bed, becoming a warm presence beside him, "how are you feeling?"

"Miserable," Creius answered honestly because there was really no hiding his condition from anyone, but he added on a quiet reassurance, "three days and I'll be okay. Just… keep it down, please."

Name Day murmured a quiet okay and leaned down to press a gentle kiss to his cheek, just underneath the cloth that covered his eyes.

Creius never remembered much during the worst of his migraines, the pain and exhaustion whisking him away to a semi-conscious state whenever he wasn't blissfully asleep. This time, he was fortunate enough to sleep through the first day, only waking a few times when the ache behind his eyes forced him back to consciousness and he vaguely recalled asking Name Day once or twice to squeeze his skull. Name Day's cold hands weren't as firm as Yermolai's were, a hesitation there stemmed from a fear of hurting him, but it was enough to help and that was all Creius cared about in the moment. But other than those few times, Creius didn't move once from the position he'd been placed in, too paranoid that by doing so, the pain would return.

The second day however, he did move. He was forced to, really, when the nausea slammed into him like a car and made him throw up everything he'd eaten, which was thankfully, not much. But even when his stomach was empty, his stomach still twisted and rolled, until Name Day resorted to dragging him over to the toilet and leaving him hunched beside it. His love had attempted to give him some more painkillers, but like everything else he ingested, it just came back up, leaving him miserable and in pain—until Name Day left and fetched Marsha, who used her skill to take some of the pain for at least a little bit. She stayed until he drifted off again into sleep, and when he woke later that day, feeling less sick than before, he'd been returned to his bed.

And for the third day, which was always the final day, Creius didn't wake once. Not completely at least, because he was vaguely aware of a hand running through his hair at one point, of an ice-cold cloth being dragged over his face gently at others, but that was all. He knew that Name Day had remained at his side the entire time, tending to him with whatever Creius needed, and he felt guilty later about taking so much of Name Day's time just because of a stupid migraine, but he did appreciate it at the same time. They were always easier to bear with someone beside him, this was just the first time that it wasn't one of his squad members.

Creius finally woke at the end of that third day, more coherent than he'd been the past few ones, and took a moment to gather himself. His room was still dark, the cloth still covering his eyes, but the throbbing pain in his skull had become nothing more than a dull ache, a reminder of what his brain could do if he ignored the warning signs again. Which he would, because he always did, although not intentionally.

The cloth had long dried and warmed by now so he reached a hand up to remove it, and carefully opened his eyes into darkness. The lights were off and it was quiet, and he deduced that he must've slept the entire day away and knowing the higher ups, that meant that they'd come knocking tomorrow to find out if he and his squad had left yet. He'd get up in a moment and make sure everyone was packed and ready to go, but first—

He looked over his shoulder and saw Name Day beside him, some sort of gaming console in hand that he vaguely recognised and rolled over to throw an arm over his love's legs. Name Day jolted, startled, but looked down at him fondly and ran a hand through Creius' hair. "How are you feeling?"

"The worst has passed," Creius said, shuffling close to press his face into Name Day's thigh, "all that remains is an ache that will go with more sleep.

Name Day hummed, hand going still, "then you should rest some more."

"I might need to leave in the morning on a mission."

"That is fine."

Creius sighed and admitted quietly, "I wanted to spend more time with you."

"I know. We will have time when you get back." Name Day said.

"Will you be here or the Far East branch?"

Name Day shrugged, "that I do not know, but if I end up going back, I will send a message."

It would have to do, but for now at least, Creius intended to stay awake for a little bit at least and soak up what affections he could get before he had to leave them behind. He moved closer and shifted until his head was pillowed on Name Day's lap, looking at the screen of the console in his love's hand, "some kind of game?"

Name Day nodded and showed it to him; he doesn't recognise it one bit. "X found it in one of the Laplace storerooms and I asked to borrow it. I haven't played this one before."

Creius hummed, "can I watch?"

"Should you be looking at a screen yet?" Name Day asked, concern lacing each word.

"Probably not, but I've never been good at taking precautions," Creius said and wasn't surprised when Name Day fixed him with a stern look. He glanced away, "I'll watch for a bit and then sleep some more. I just want to spend some time awake with you."

Fingers ran through his hair once, touch ever gentle, and the words spoken, even gentler, "okay, just for a little bit. I want you well so you come back in one piece."

As it turned out the good fortune ended the moment the three of them arrived back at Laplace, because as Name Day's luck would have it, what should have been a simple broken arm turned out to be a broken wrist and elbow. He could see Windsong torn between laughing at his misfortune or sighing because she expected nothing less of him. Kiperina at least looked sympathetic to his plight as his arm was splinted by the medical staff, giving him a gentle pat on the knee as the staff told Name Day recovery would take him anywhere from four to six weeks depending on how he healed. Which was fun to hear. The only upside was that he could still work provided he be careful, although he wasn't fond of being restricted to light duties, since that meant he became everyone's errand boy instead of investigating anything fun.

The downsides were, of course, miserable to deal with. Finding himself suddenly limited to just one arm made Name Day appreciate just how much humans used both arms in their day to day lives. Eating wasn't so much of a problem—he could still use his fingers after all—but dressing himself and even showering? Those were suddenly a war all of their own, but he managed… somehow. Oh and filling out reports, but that was more of a slight inconvenience than anything else; he was capable of using either hand to write, it was just instinctive for him to reach out with his right hand to do things, the sharp spikes of pain reminding him that that wasn't currently an option.

After the first week, the medical staff forced him into using a sling, lest he make his recovery period even longer.

Which made everything even more miserable to deal with.

A reprieve came for him in the form of a delivery job a week after his injury; nothing strenuous, just delivering some materials from Laplace's Plesetsk branch to the main branch that had been requested. Easy enough, and it would give Name Day a chance to catch up with his other friends—and maybe even Creius if his squad was in—so he hadn't hesitated to leap at the job, happily agreeing to play courier.

It was worth it to see the look on Hissabeth's face when he walked into her lab with a smile on his face and the materials she'd requested.

"What did you do?" Hissabeth asked, standing to give him a hug and a kiss on the cheek like she always did. She held him at arms length and studied the splint and the sling, "do I even want to know?"

"I fell when helping Windsong." Name Day said, a sheepish smile on his face. "Broke my wrist and my elbow because I am just lucky, I guess."

Hissabeth shook her head and laughed, "only you, Name Day, only you. How long until it heals?"

"I get it checked in another week to make sure it is healing correctly. If it is, another… three or four weeks." Name Day said. "I have to go meet with the Foundation, but I'll come back tomorrow to visit."

"Okay," Hissabeth's mouth quirked up, "off to see if your man is in?"

Name Day rolled his eyes, smiling, "I do actually have to drop off some reports, but yes, that too. Do you know if he's here?"

"I haven't seen him, but I also haven't heard anything about the XII squad leaving either."

Name Day nodded his thanks and waved a farewell before he left and began to make his way to the Foundation. When he entered the building, he caught a few surprised looks from people he knew that hadn't seen him in a while and could see the questions in their eyes, but he ignored them, just nodding his greetings to finish the job he was assigned. It didn't take long to drop off the reports to the appropriate people—most of who didn't even thank him—and with that done, he had some free time until the next job came along.

So he walked down the hall towards Creius' office. It'd been weeks since they had last seen each other, both busy with work, so Name Day was more than a little keen to see his something, and hoped he was in and they hadn't missed each other.

He reached the office that Creius—and the rest of his squad—worked out of and knocked before opening the door, smiling when he caught sight of familiar red hair.

Creius looked up as he stepped into the office, and smiled happily at him, before dropping his head to stare at the paperwork in front of him. The man wasn't alone in the office, Yermolai was stretched out on one of the couches, looking at Name Day with wide eyes. Name Day tilted his head in greeting and waited.

Creius went still, brow furrowed, and slowly lifted his head, eyes landing on Name Day's arm. The furrow deepened before finally, his eyes went wide, "what happened?"

From the couch, Yermolai laughed, "I was wondering how long it would take you to notice."

"Shut up," Creius huffed before he stood and came over to stand in front of Name Day, asking again, "what happened?"

"Was out working with Windsong and fell," Name Day said with a shrug, "it's only for another few weeks or so."

Creius looked him over and shook his head in exasperation, "only you. Between you and Paravyan, I'm going to turn grey."

"You're a redhead, you can't turn grey." Yermolai scoffed, sitting up and gesturing for Name Day to take the empty space. "Looks like you did a good job though."

"Snapped my wrist and my elbow, the medical staff were rather impressed," Name Day said, sitting down beside the older man, "I never understood how much someone used an elbow until I couldn't move mine."

The corner of Creius' mouth twitched upwards, "but you are okay otherwise?"

Name Day nodded, "they have me on light duties until it heals, so I have just been running errands for everyone the past couple of weeks."

"Well," Creius looked at the stack of paper on his desk and then at Yermolai, "if someone did his own reports for a change, I could finish early if you have nothing planned for the day."

Yermolai scowled at Creius, and Name Day wisely kept quiet as the two seemed to have some sort of silent conversation before Yermolai sighed and stood, grumbling, "fine, go be sappy, but I'm not delivering the damn reports."

"Thank you, Yermolai." Name Day said, rising to his feet when Creius approached, and looped his arm with his something's, bumping his head against Creius' shoulder, tightening his grip to encourage Creius to do the same.

Creius cleared his throat, "thank you. I'll deliver them when you're done."

Yermolai gave Creius a look before pointing at Name Day, "you ain't allowed to go anywhere, he's nice when you're around."

Name Day laughed at the unimpressed look on Creius' face, and tugged the man into walking alongside him, "bye, Yermolai."

He heard a grunt as the door shut behind them and shook his head slightly before looking up at Creius, "stuck on desk duty again?"

Creius sighed and began to walk up the hall, nodding, "I'll give you one guess as to why."

"What's Paravyan sick with this time?"

"Gastritis, and he's rather miserable so we get a few days at home until he recovers." Creius said. "As you can tell, Yermolai's not particularly keen on sitting around, so he decided bothering me was better. Marsha and Merel are off doing something for the day, I didn't ask what, so it's just the two of us working."

Name Day's heart clenched in sympathy and he tightened his grip on Creius' arm, "do you want to come up to my room instead of yours then?"

Creius hummed, pondering over the idea before he nodded, "sure, maybe I can cook us some lunch?"

Name Day brightened at the idea of eating some of Creius' cooking instead of cafeteria food—or field rations—for a change; his something always cooked the best meals, which considering he didn't get to do it all that often, was impressive on its own.

They walked the halls quietly, riding the elevator up to the floor Name Day resided on, and he breathed out all his exhaustion the moment he entered the familiar space, bending down to untie his boots and get them off. He watched Creius do the same much faster before shedding his coat and folding it carefully to leave it by the door. Name Day had only just gotten his boots loose enough to kick off when Creius grabbed his coat and helped to tug it from him, hanging on the hook on the back of the door for him. He murmured a quiet thanks before determining how much he wanted a clean shirt. He'd mastered the art of getting his pants and his boots on for work, but shirts were a whole other story and he often went a few days before swapping it out for another one.

But this time he had Creius with him, and the man could read him like a book.

"What are you wanting to wear?" Creius asked, stepping over towards Name Day's closet.

"I will take literally anything but this shirt," Name Day said, sitting down on the edge of his bed and tugging his arm free of its sling, "actually, just grab me a coat, forget the shirt. I am not going anywhere else today."

Creius nodded and grabbed a simple green jacket that Windsong had bought for him months ago, dropping it onto the bed beside him before reaching for Name Day's shirt, "let me help."

Name Day nodded and lifted his arms and let Creius pull his shirt, first over his head, before carefully tugging it over his injured arm, and he quickly pulled his remaining arm out of the sleeve before grabbing the jacket and slinging it over his shoulders. It wasn't perfect, but it would do for now.

"I'm surprised they splinted it instead of casting it." Creius said, folding his shirt and placing it at the end of the end.

Name Day hummed, "they thought about it, but then considered what I am like and decided against it. The compromise was that I wear a sling."

Creius' eyes fell to said sling, lying beside him, and raised a brow, "the sling you are not currently using?"

"If I hurt myself in my own room, I deserve to be locked in the medical wing," Name Day said and held his good hand out towards Creius, looking up at his something fondly, "come here?"

Creius' face softened and he leaned down, pressing his lips against Name Day's in a gentle, warm kiss that Name Day welcomed wholeheartedly. His eyes fluttered closed as a hand came and caressed his cheek, and he let out a noise of content, hand coming up to clutch at the front of Creius' shirt and tug him that little bit closer. They broke apart, breaths mingling as their heads rested together, and Name Day soaked up his something's presence. The weeks that passed by without them seeing each other only made these moments even more tender—more special, and he loved every second that Creius' hands were against him.

They kissed again, and Creius' hand came around to cup the back of his head, fingers tangling into his hair, and Name Day responded by sliding his hand up Creius' shirt, feeling the warm skin beneath his palm. He brushed his thumb over Creius' side before they broke apart again. "I missed you," he murmured, dropping his head onto Creius' stomach.

The hand in his hair smoothed down the back of his neck, sending shivers up his spine, "I missed you too. Why don't you rest, and I'll cook?"

Name Day nodded, liking that idea a lot, and with Creius' help, got settled on the bed, lying on his side so that he could watch Creius work. He didn't doubt that he'd fail in staying awake, but he could at least watch for a bit; so he did. He watched Creius move through the little kitchen in the corner with ease, like this was just a normal day for the two of them, and he smiled to himself, intending on enjoying it while it lasted. The sounds of cooking echoed throughout the room, and it wasn't long before Name Day found himself dozing off—

—only to be shaken awake a moment later by Creius' gentle touch.

"Lunch is ready," Creius murmured, sliding a hand underneath Name Day's back to help him sit up.

Name Day hummed and climbed out of bed, welcoming the chaste kiss to his brow before he yawned and stepped over to the table and sitting. "Smells good."

"It's nothing fancy," Creius said, sliding a plate of spiced chicken and vegetables in front of him, and Name Day's love for the man shot up upon noticing the chicken had been sliced so he only had to use one hand.

"I'm sure it tastes great," Name Day said and quickly took a bite, nodding to show his approval; worth it to see the pleased expression on Creius' face.

They spoke quietly while they ate, although for once there wasn't much work discussion to be shared. Name Day told of the story how he'd broken his arm, a little sheepish as he explained the branch that'd sent him tumbling into the snow, and Creius in turn told him of the simple things his squad had gotten up to. Apparently Paravyan—before he'd fallen ill—had gone out with Marsha to a movie after the medic had said mentioned never seeing one before, and Merel had taken time to visit the Timekeeper and her other friends. Heartwarming stories that left Name Day feeling lighter by the time they finished eating.

He watched Creius clean up before they both slipped over to the bed, and Name Day nestled himself between Creius' legs, resting against his chest with a pillow on his lap for his arm, humming contently as fingers ran through his hair, brushing out the tangles that lay within it.

"Do you want it up or down?" Creius asked him.

Name Day thought about it for a moment and then asked, "do you know how to braid?"

"I… do not," Creius admitted quietly, "I can try though?"

"I'll walk you through it," Name Day said and began to explain the process, telling Creius to section his hair first before he started braiding. It was amusing to listen to Creius grumble as his first attempts failed, struggling to understand the crisscrossing motion that a braid required, and Name Day eventually held up his hands to show what he meant, feeling Creius' eyes on them as he copied Name Day's motions. In the end, it was a messy braid, but it was still a braid and Name Day tilted his head back to look up at Creius' slightly red face, "you did well for a first attempt."

Creius cleared his throat, "I'll have to practice since you seem to like wearing them a lot."

"Usually when I go to bed," Name Day said, "stops my hair getting too tangled while I sleep. Maybe you can practice on Yermolai?"

He felt the laugh before he heard it, and Creius wound his arms around Name Day's waist, holding him close, "something tells me he wouldn't be fond of that."

"Probably not, but it would be fun to see," Name Day said. "You should take a job in the Far East so we can see each other more. Going weeks without seeing each other is harder than I thought."

Creius hummed his agreement, dropping his head to nuzzle the crook of Name Day's neck before kissing it gently, "but it makes these moments we share better, wouldn't you agree?"

Name Day nodded and twisted so that he could reach Creius' face, first kissing the man's cheek before tilting his head up to steal a kiss from his lips. He murmured against them, "at least we will have time while I heal."

"Yes, although next time, I would prefer you to just take the time off, rather than break your bones."

"Feeling better?" Enigma asks him, taking the bin from his hands and placing what appears to be a mug of tea into them—cold, and clearly made hours ago.

Still, Name Day lifts the mug and sips at it, recognising the taste of chamomile. He shrugs, hunching in on himself and finally admits to another person, "not really, no."

Enigma hums, crosses his arms and studies him carefully. Name Day keeps his head down, sipping at the tea as he feels like an ant under a microscope. He hears Enigma sigh, but speak to Ulrich instead, "thank you, Ulrich, I can handle it."

"Shall I clean up the mess left behind?" Ulrich asks.

Name Day flinches.

"If you wouldn't mind. How many bottles were there?"

There's a moment of silence before Ulrich says, "three. He was on his fourth when I found him."

Enigma nods, and Name Day hears the door shut behind him but still, he doesn't lift his head. The silence returns, as does the nausea, and Name Day finally lifts his head if only to look towards the bin that's just out of reach. Whatever face he's making, Enigma must recognise, because the mug is plucked out of his hands and replaced with the basket.

He throws up the kindness he's been shown, and some more alcohol.

Enigma sighs and runs a hand through messy hair, "if I walk you down to the rehab centre to sober up, will you fight me on it?"

Name Day shakes his head and squeezes his eyes shut, the words he so desperately needs to say on the tip of his tongue and yet the dog claws them back down his throat, refusing to let them free. It wants him to suffer, to drown, despite Name Day's silent pleas for it to let him go. "I…"

His throat closes up the second he tries to say more, but Enigma just waits. He just waits.

The tears are running down Name Day's face before he can stop them, and it's only then, that he can get the words out, "I need help. I can't get up the slope on my own."

"Okay," is all Enigma says, but his face softens and Name Day cries even more, drawing his knees to his chest to hide his face into them, and he's pretty sure he feels a warm hand rest on his shoulder and squeeze.

Enigma waits until he's stopped crying to coax him into standing, and Name Day's face burns with shame when his legs can't seem to function well. His arm is dragged over Enigma's shoulders, and an arm around his waist supports him as they make their way towards the rehab centre. He can't look anyone in the eye as they move, well aware of how much of a disaster he looks, but nobody says anything to him.

The staff take him once they arrive, but Enigma stays, leaning against the wall as Name Day is gently dumped in a bed, and given an IV to combat the dehydration his excessive drinking and subsequent expelling of said alcohol has caused. He throws up again, and they give him something for the nausea, along with a painkiller that he appreciates and tries to say as such; he's pretty sure he fails.

Name Day hears Enigma speaking with the staff quietly before they leave, and watches the man push off from the wall to come stand next to the bed. "I have a meeting with the Foundation in an hour," Enigma says, "so I can't stay as long as I'd like to, but Hissabeth's on the way down to sit with you."

Name Day swallows, already feeling guilty for interrupting his friends work day, but Enigma continues to speak so he forces himself to listen.

"Madam Z will be there, and I know you often go to her when you struggle like this. Would you like me to speak with her about what's happened?"

He can't find the words to say yes so he nods instead, and curls into a ball of misery and sickness. To think he's fallen so far so quick, it forms a shame within him that he doesn't like; it only makes him feel worse, and threatens to send him spiralling more than he already is. He should be stronger than this, he should be able to handle it without burdening everyone around him. His eyes squeeze shut and he wraps his arms around himself, being mindful of the IV, letting out a shaky breath.

Enigma places a hand on his shoulder, "Name Day, you did the hard part. You asked for help, and once you sober up, it'll be a little easier to bear."

Name Day nods just as Hissabeth hurries through the door, breathing heavily like she's run all the way here. Her eyes meet his and soften immediately, before they move over to Enigma, and she asks, "what happened?"

"He's just a bit too much to drink, is all," Enigma says, "dehydrated and nauseous, so he's staying here to rectify that."

Hissabeth frowns, confused, and Name Day can see her trying to put the puzzle pieces together to try and figure out why she's been called down here in the first place. He sees the moment it clicks, no doubt recalling the time he once told her that he only ever got drunk so he didn't have to deal with the pain in his heart. "Oh, Name Day…" she murmurs, grabbing the chair from against the wall and placing it beside the bed to sit in it. Hissabeth smiles softly at him, a little sad, but there's no pity or judgement, just love and a promise to care.

Name Day extends a hand towards her and waits until she takes it before he says, "the slope got too steep."

His friend nods and looks over her shoulder, "I'll stay with him. I tried to contact Creius, but apparently I don't have clearance or permission."

"He's out of contact on a mission," Name Day says quietly and two heads swivel towards him, "only the higher ups are permitted to contact and only in case of emergency."

The emergency being if the Storm suddenly decided to show up, so he's heard.

Enigma sighs and rubs the back of his neck, "I'll see what strings I can pull to at least get you a conversation with him. I must go now, but I'll drop by once the meeting is done."

Name Day nods in gratitude, and watches Enigma leave the room until it's just him and Hissabeth and he squeezes her hand tight. His friend returns the gesture, just quietly watching him as he fights against himself. He's grateful she's here, sitting beside him, but all he can think about is how he doesn't deserve it, how he's wasting her precious time all because he decided to have a few drinks too many. His grip tightens and a fresh wave of tears decide to make an appearance.

Hissabeth doesn't hesitate to drag the chair closer, lifting her free hand to wipe away the tears, "you are a very sad drunk, you know that?"

"It is why I don't drink much at parties," Name Day manages a quiet laugh, followed by a broken sob, "I'm sorry, I—"

"None of that," Hissabeth says, brushing away the tears with her thumb as she cups his cheek, "apologise when you're sober, then I'll know it's you and not the alcohol talking, okay?"

Name Day gives a jerky nod.

"Do you want a hug?" Hissabeth asks and gives him a teasing grin, "I'm certainly not as large as Creius, but I've been told I give good hugs."

This time, the sob accompanies the nod, but he manages to shift over enough in the bed for Hissabeth to crawl up behind him. He's trembling as she gets comfortable, slotting her body alongside his, and throwing an arm over his side to hold him close. She's not as warm as Creius, but her presence does help him to calm down. He's tired now, physically as well as mentally and it's a struggle to keep his eyes open now that he's got someone he trusts watching over him, comforting him.

In the back of his mind, Name Day hears the dog snapping and snarling, ready to snatch him away the second its able to draw near enough to get to him, but Hissabeth's presence keeps the thing at bay, and he can feel himself stop sliding down the slope, the weight behind him keeping him from slipping further down towards the abyss. Perhaps with her here, he might actually be able to get some rest—so he does.

When he wakes again, he's not sure how much time has passed, and Hissabeth's presence behind him has vanished, but he can feel her holding his hand, so he doesn't panic… much. His head is throbbing and his mouth is so dry it feels like all the moisture has been sucked from it, but he ignores it in favour of cracking open an eye to see what's going on around him.

Hissabeth is back in the chair, peering down at some papers with her legs kicked up onto the bed at an angle where she can still hold his hand, or well, where he can hold her hand since it feels like he's the one doing the holding. But she doesn't seem bothered by his death grip, scribbling something onto the paper before she seems to notice she's being watched. Hissabeth lifts her head and smiles at him, "good morning, how's your hangover?"

Morning? Name Day frowns, confused. Last he knew it'd been afternoon. Has he really slept through the whole night without waking? "Morning…?"

"Yep, morning. You slept the entire time once you were out. Are you feeling better?"

Name Day takes a moment to consider the question. The staff in the rehab centre must've given him another painkiller because other than a dull ache in his head, he feels nothing, but that could also be part of the fact that he feels nothing too. He's exhausted still, despite sleeping for so long, but otherwise he does feel better than he had when coming here. He settles for a shrug, "a little."

Hissabeth puts away her papers on a second chair and stretches, "I did mean physically when I asked that, I already know you feel terrible mentally."

Despite the truth of her words, Name Day smiles, "physically, I feel like a drank three bottles of vodka. I'm mostly just tired."

"That's okay, they said that might be the case," Hissabeth says and pulls her hand free so she can cross her arms and lean on the bed, resting her head on them, "why didn't you come to me when it got bad, Name Day?"

Name Day turns his head away, eyes prickling with heat, "everyone—everyone was busy and… I didn't want to be a bother."

"You are never a bother," Hissabeth murmurs, stretching one hand to place it against his arm, "you had some visitors while you were sleeping. Kiperina and Voyager stopped by with Windsong, told me to wish you a quick recovery when they had to leave and made me promise to tell you that when you woke up."

"How are they?" Name Day asks, turning back to look at Hissabeth. He hopes that he didn't worry the two teens much, unsure just how much they understand of his struggles.

"They're doing well," Hissabeth says. "Windsong's taking good care of them, and they'll be about the Main Branch for another week or two, so I'm sure you'll see them—if you feel up to it of course."

Name Day nods, telling himself to at least try and see the girls before they had to go, but not having much faith in being able to stick with it. Right now, he barely has the energy for Hissabeth's presence, despite how grateful he is that his friend is giving up her time to sit with him. It's not fair, not on Hissabeth, and not on him, but he can't help how he feels, and so he does the safest thing he can and turns away, putting his back towards Hissabeth and staying silent. He hears her sigh, and touch his shoulder, but she doesn't say anything.

They stay like that for some time, Name Day staring blankly at the wall in front of him, listening to the doctors talk to Hissabeth when they come to check on him. Apparently he has to go through one more round of rehydration before they'll let him go, and so he prepares to spend a few more hours in the rehab centre. Which is fine. It's not like he has anywhere else he needs to be, and the only thing he intends to do when he leaves is go to bed and sleep some more. He closes his eyes and tries to breath slowly, tries to stay calm and not make himself panic by getting lost in his thoughts. The dog waits for him, growling and grinning, urging him to let it in again, and Name Day tries to ignore it, but it gets one claw into him and it's only a matter of time before it gets the others in too.

A knock on the door catches Name Day's attention but he doesn't turn to see who's coming in, and he hears Hissabeth scramble to sit properly, "Madam Z, good morning."

Name Day stiffens. Enigma must've told her what happened, and even though he's the one that asked for her to know, he wants to crawl under the blankets and hide from her so she doesn't have to see him slipping down and down and down.

"Is Name Day awake?" Madam Z asks, and before Hissabeth can answer, Name Day looks over his shoulder at her. She smiles softly at him, and he notices the blinking communicator in her hand and hope lurches within his chest. Stepping up to the bed, she holds it out to him, "someone wants to talk to you."

He swallows the lump in his throat, well aware that there are tears in his eyes again. He tries not to let them fall.

"It's a private line, but you'll only have a few minutes," Madam Z says and nods towards the communicator. "Hissabeth and I will give you some privacy."

Name Day rolls over and carefully takes the communicator from her, and watches her and Hissabeth file out of the room.

The second the door shuts behind them, a familiar voice comes through the device. "I heard you aren't feeling well."

"I am doing better," Name Day murmurs, holding the device close so he can keep his voice low, "what were you told?"

Creius lets out a breath, the sound breaking a bit from wherever he is right now, "that you were taken to Laplace's rehab centre to be treated for mild alcohol poisoning. Do you need me with you?"

The question warms Name Day's heart, and he knows if he says yes, that Creius will drop whatever mission he's on and come back as soon as he can and… he can't bring himself to do that. As much as he wants Creius by his side right now, his something is needed where he is too. He shakes his head, "no, I—I asked for help, from Enigma. Hissabeth's been with me the entire time too, so you don't need to come back."

"Okay, but if you change your mind, get Madam Z to reach out to me on this line, I'll come back," Creius says, voice gentle, the words a promise.

"Thank you…" Name Day says, and then adds on, "I know you cannot tell me about the job, but are you okay?"

"We're ready to come home, that's for sure," Creius sighs, "Yermolai took a hit, but he's alive and making it everyone's problem."

Name Day huffs a laugh, and he thinks he hears Yermolai's disgruntled voice come through the communicator. "You didn't answer the question."

"I'm alright too. We should be finished up within the week, but I won't make the promise." There's a brief pause before Creius continues, "I'm proud of you, Name Day. Don't let this bad day beat you, okay?"

"I will try," Name Day sniffs, voice breaking a little as he says the words, a few tears running across his face.

In an instant, Creius' voice softens, "try is all you can do. I have to go now, I love you."

"Love you, too. Stay safe," Name Day says, and sighs when the call cuts out. He stares at the communicator in his hand, wishing it to come back to life, but it doesn't, and he holds it to his head, breaths shaking as he regrets immediately not asking Creius to come home. He doesn't care then if it's selfish of him, he wants his something beside him, to whisper I'm proud of you into his ear and be held while it happens. But it's too late now; he has to deal with the choice he made and he promised Creius he'd try to beat the bad day.

First he needs to stop crying.

Instead, he falls asleep to tears drying on his face, and to a gentle touch prying the communicator out of his tense hands.

After his stint in the rehab centre, Name Day finds himself being sat down in Enigma's office, much more sober than he'd like to be for the coming conversation. It helps that Enigma also looks uncomfortable, but Name Day thinks that has more to do with Madam Z's presence in the office than anything else. Name Day sits curled up in the same chair he sat in only a few days ago and avoids looking at either of them, picking at the hem of his shirt. It shouldn't be this hard to look at them and talk—he's the one that reached out for help after all, but it's instinctive for him to retreat in on himself when things get tough. It was what he did after the First Storm, and it was what he did when he had to protect his siblings.

He feels vulnerable, underneath their stares, and eventually it's Madam Z who starts off the conversation. It begins with familiar questions, of her asking how he's currently feeling, and then branching off into ones to determine how long he's been feeling that way, and Name Day finds it easy enough to answer those questions. It's when the questions start to delve into the harder topics that he starts to fracture and shatter, because it means baring himself to Enigma too, who has only ever seen him on the bad days where he just struggles with exhaustion and a heavy weight on his shoulders.

The first of the hard questions sets the tone for the rest of the conversation; can you show me your arms?

Name Day's gaze flicks over to Enigma then, who frowns but says nothing, and he swallows before tugging up the sleeves of his shirt, revealing the scars on his wrist from long ago but no fresh ones. It mades him wonder just what exactly Enigma told Madam Z at that meeting for her to think the worst of him, but he realises quickly she's just trying to figure out how far he's fallen, and he tries not to let the anxiety get the better of him.

They think you weak, the dog murmurs in his ear, smiling and digging its claws into him just that little bit tighter, making it harder to breathe.

The second question changes the subject to his drinking, and it's quickly determined that he lose access to it before he winds up hurting himself or someone else—Name Day catches the haunted look in Enigma's eyes when Madam Z says that, remembers hearing about the man's own struggles and feels a pang of sympathy for him having to recognise the same thing happening in Name Day.

There's a few more questions that Name Day answers about his crashing mental health, and he tenses with each one, wishing for the conversation to end, but Madam Z asks that final question that stabs right through him; do you wish to die, Name Day?

Does he?

No, he doesn't, at least, he doesn't think so. Dying would mean leaving those he cares about, and no matter what he thinks of himself on these bad days of his, he can't bear to put them through that pain. It would be cruel, and Name Day is many things, but he's not cruel. His friends, the kids he interacts with and entertains, even Creius and his squad, all of them have already been through enough pain losing everyone they care about in the Storm. Name Day isn't going to add to that just because the dog in his mind is telling him it's a good idea.

He shakes his head, but apparently too much time has passed for his decision to be believed because both Madam Z and Enigma are staring at him in concern. Name Day looks away from them, curls up into the chair even more and doesn't move. The tears form, and he silently curses them choosing to come now of all times, and scrubs at his face. Don't look at me like that, he tells them, a little bitter, and he hears Enigma sigh, but doesn't glance over towards the man.

It's decided in the end, that the best thing to do is to give him the time he needs to get back up the slope, but that he shouldn't be alone during this time. Name Day doesn't like the idea of essentially being watched constantly, but it's his own fault for not answering the damn question sooner, so he says nothing about the decision. He's to stay at Laplace on light duties—Enigma explains that just means he'll assist the researchers, but the expectations won't be there, and he'll only work with those that understand his situation—and Name Day agrees to that. He's never minded helping out his friends with their research. Seeing them get so happy when things go right always makes him smile, so maybe it'll help.

Madam Z also tells him she'll arrange for someone he can talk to, to hopefully help him work through the bad day that's more like a few bad weeks at this point.

He nods to that, but he doesn't think that'll help much. It's not like he hasn't talked to someone before, but he's never enjoyed the judgemental feeling he gets from them, as if being depressed is something he can control. If it were, he would've dealt with it long before now.

The meeting ends then, and Madam Z gets up and places a hand on his shoulder, telling him everything will be alright, and that she's glad he asked for help on his own this time. That makes him smile and he murmurs a quiet thank you before she leaves. Enigma watches him a moment, but its clear he's just deep in thought. It's not long before the man gets up and gestures for Name Day to follow him, so he does. They walk though the halls all the way towards the floors the labs are on, and he recognises Hissabeth's when they reach it. She lets them in, and Name Day immediately goes to the couch and throws himself onto it, listening to Hissabeth and Enigma talk quietly.

The director of Laplace leaves, and Hissabeth comes and tells him that he's to stay with her for the time being. Name Day just nods and turns to face into the couch so that she can't see how miserable he looks, but this is hardly the first bad day Hissabeth has seen of him, so she drapes a blanket over him and kisses his temple, telling him he only need to ask if he needs something.

The days pass by simply after that.

Name Day sleeps in a cot on the floor of Hissabeth's room, and then sleeps on her couch in her lab while she works. He sleeps a lot these days, it's easier than being awake. The dog in his mind can't get to him when he's sleeping, and he's tired of feeling it pressing down on his shoulders constantly, so he sleeps. He's never allowed to sleep the whole day though, and gets woken up when it's time to eat, but Name Day can barely stomach the food he's offered. Hissabeth learns quickly and figures out what he eats on the bad days normally and soon enough, there's a steady supply of plain, tasteless biscuits in both her lab and her room, but she makes him promise to at least try and eat something sustainable.

So he does, try that is.

He never gets very far before he has to push the plate away, but his friend says nothing about it, just shoving a mug of tea towards him instead. Tea, because he's no longer allowed alcohol, but like anyone who indulges in a habit too long, the urge is there to make him want to drink more—and the dog whispers how it helps him far better than this tea is. It's not a bad tasting tea either, a gift from Enigma from when he turned back to the bottle himself after the death of his sister, and Name Day appreciates the gesture. So he drinks the tea whenever he feels inclined to find a bottle of vodka instead.

The only time he's alone now is whenever he speaks with the person appointed to help him. They're nice enough and seem to genuinely want to help him, so Name Day tries his best to get through the appointments, even though he feels like he's been dragged over hot coals afterwards. He always sleeps the rest of the day after them, too tired to do anything but. Hissabeth makes a concerned comment that he's always sleeping and all Name Day can do is shrug before he curls up on her couch and goes to sleep. He just doesn't have the energy to do anything else, and no matter how much he sleeps, he never seems to gain any, and his mood worsens because of it.

He's careful not to take it out on those around him, not when all they're trying to do is help him, and his friends seem to understand that he's not up to much of anything these days. The kids come to visit him, Kiperina, Voyager, and even little Avgust comes by, and Name Day doesn't know if it's just the nature of children, but they don't push him into anything, just fill the silent air quietly with their own adventures and stories, seemingly content that Name Day is just listening to them. By the time they leave, his heart feels a little lighter and he hopes that maybe that's a sign that he'll be able to start climbing the slope again soon. Time is all it takes, really, time and support and he'll find his way back.

Medicine Pocket and Hissabeth work together to be the most annoying people in his life; the former in dragging him to their lab to eat, and the latter in making sure he's comfortable and not sleeping the entire day away. He both appreciates and hates it, and there's a few times where he either snaps or bursts into tears—sometimes both—and yet neither of them take it to heart. Well, they both back off and give him the space to feel things, but then they'll come back and guide him onto the path again. It only makes him cry more, if he's being honest, but they're kind about it and don't bring it up.

The sudden emotional outbursts are by far the worst part of his depression. The way he can be talking to someone and then just suddenly start crying for no apparent reason. It's embarrassing, and he spends more time apologising and reassuring the person speaking to him that it's not them, it's just him. Because of it, he hides away from everyone, even more than he already is—at least he tries to. He's given a little more freedom when it becomes obvious he isn't about to throw himself off the stairwell to his death, so when he can feel the tears coming, he tells Medicine Pocket he's going to sit in the stairwell and have a cry.

Medicine Pocket only watches him carefully before nodding, promising to drag him back to the lab if he doesn't come back within twenty minutes. Name Day nods his acceptance and slinks off to do as he says he would, and sit in the stairwell—only the tears don't come this time. Because of course they don't when he tries to give them the prime opportunity to do so. There's nothing wrong with crying alone, he prefers it to breaking down in front of another person, and yet as he sits tucked against the wall and stairs across to the other side, miserable and depressed, nothing happens. It makes him frustrated and he buries his face into his knees.

If only he had a drink.

"Does someone know you're sitting here?" X's voice filters towards his ears, and Name Day lifts his head to see the teen watching him carefully, mismatched eyes uneasy.

Name Day nods, "Medicine Pocket does."

X gives a nod of his own and carefull climbs up the stairs, stopping at the top to stare down at him before he lowers himself to lean against the railing, "are you… okay?"

The answer is obviously no, but Name Day recognises that X is just asking because he doesn't know what else to say. It's not the first time that X has stumbled across one of his bad days, but he's never really known how to handle it, and Name Day chalks it up to whatever repressed past the teen has that he won't share with anyone. Name Day tries to smile reassuringly, "it's just a bad day."

X hums and taps his fingers against the cover of the book he always carries, "I think it's more than a bad day."

"It is," Name Day agrees, inclining his head slightly, "I am trying, though. But what brings you here anyway?"

"I am simply going for a stroll," X says, eyes sliding away from Name Day, and he knows that look well. Something's happened and the boy is trying to avoid running into whoever he's pissed off today. Which is a long list considering it's X, and if there's one thing the teen is good at, it's pissing people off.

"What happened?" Name Day asks, uncurling a little, concern for the teen running through him, "are you alright?"

X smiles, "you don't need to worry about me, I'll simply hide out here for a bit like you are until the anger fades to humour."

Name Day doubts that'll happen, but he wishes X luck in soothing the ruffled feathers when he leaves. When he doesn't, he frowns, "you don't have to stay for my sake."

"I'm not," X says, looking away, but it's not long before his eyes slide back towards Name Day and he asks, "did something happen to make you so sad?"

The question shocks him, not because it's never been asked of him before, but because it's X asking him, and he's known the boy since he first showed up at Laplace, mismatched eyes intimidating all the other researchers at first before his smile reassures him—eyes that have a hidden pain of their own. Name Day answers carefully, "the Storm mostly. I just do not cope as well as others do, and sometimes I am reminded of what I have lost."

X nods and draws his knees to his chest, crossing his arms and resting his head on them. "But there is no Storm right now."

"There doesn't have to be," Name Day says and then decides to phrase it another way, "I am a bit like Medicine Pocket, only instead of my body, it is my mind."

"I know what mental illness is, I'm not an idiot," X snaps, frustration flashing across his face briefly.

"Then what are you asking, X?"

The teen shrugs, but before he can answer an alarm starts to echo throughout the stairwell, red lights flashing. The sound is so familiar to Name Day now that he's not surprised to hear it, but it doesn't stop the dread from pooling in his stomach, nor does it drown out the dog that laughs in the back of his mind, creeping closer with each blare of the alarm that warns them of the Storm that's coming for them.

X sighs and gets to his feet, "well, guess we're going to be busy for the next twenty-four hours."

Name Day hums, feeling himself sliding down the slope and before he knows it, the tears he'd been hoping to shed come forth and start to trail down his cheeks. He sees X's eyes widen and tries to smile, but it cracks the moment he attempts to and the tears come down that much faster. How many more Storms must he endure before they finally stop? He's already endured so many, watched so many people lose their lives and their loved ones and they're still no closer to figuring out how to stop it from happening.

He's not sure how much more he can handle anymore.

A hand appears in front of him and Name Day lifts his head to see X has come to stand before him, offering a helping hand up. "Come on," X says, "I'll walk you back to Medicine Pocket's lab, it's on the way to my own."

Laplace always falls into chaos whenever the Storm approaches. The Timekeeper's warning drags everyone into a tweny-four hour shift, so matter where they are or if it's their scheduled day off. There's simply too much to do, experiments to set up, studies to manage, and equipement to salvage and protect through the rain that threatens to destroy it, and not nearly enough staff to do it all.

Name Day helps where he can, pushing aside his own problems in order to deal with the Storm preparations. Since he's not actually a researcher, most of his time is spent carting messages from lab to lab, from person to person, and also mediating with the Foundation when toes are stepped on as they too, try to prepare for the Storm. There's a moment where his heart skips a beat, hoping that Creius and the rest of the XII Squad is okay, but he has to trust that his something will come back safe, and tries not to think about what happens if he doesn't.

The hours pass and the countdown ticks down, and Name Day wants nothing more than to curl up and drink the oncoming Storm away, but he can't. He has to work and keep a calm head as everyone else around him operates at a level of stress that only happens during the Storm countdown. Someone has to, he tells himself, and so he tries his best to be that person. When the countdown drops into single digits, he becomes the go to person in dealing with Medicine Pocket, who's fascination with the Storm causes stress in all their co-workers, and Enigma begs Name Day to keep an eye on them as they demand to go out and collect research materials, too busy trying to wrangle everyone else all at once.

So Name Day does, following Medicine Pocket around, keeping in mind to not let them wander out of the safe zone for too long, and also making sure to know exactly how much time they have until the Storm hits. He watches his friend run around, joy on their face at all the materials they're replenishing and finds himself wondering if it really is that easy to just ignore what the Storm does? Even the other researchers at Laplace, as apprehensive as they are, all have an intrigue in the scientific side of the Storm that seems to become the stronger emotion in the hours leading up to it. Name Day doesn't understand it. All he can think about is the people of this era that'll be washed away, and of his own era, long gone—his siblings, his friends, all long gone as well.

It's been almost a decade of jumping from era to era and yet he still recalls the loss of his own like it only just happened.

And it hurts.

It hurts so much to know that even if they do conquer the Storm, that the time and place he once called home, will never be as it was, that he'll never get back what he's lost, and even though he's built up new relationships with the people he's befriended and come to love, the pain will always linger. It is a pain that grows stronger with every Storm, and really, it's no surprise that he feels himself start to fall apart. He was already struggling before the countdown begun, and now as the Storm descends upon them and he watches the rain rise through the safety of a window, the dog latches onto him visciously, dragging him down to the bottom of the slope and trapping him there, whispering cruel words into his ear, words that he can't ignore because they are a truth on their own.

Why do you keep trying? The dog asks him, why do you keep fighting?

Name Day doesn't know.

Wouldn't you like it all to just… stop? Wouldn't you like to rest?

He would, he really would. He's just so tired now, tired and drained, and he has nothing left inside of him, not even any tears to cry out. All that's left is a heaviness he can't shrug off. Around him, people are heading off to bed, to sleep for the day before they get up and venture out into to see where it is they've ended up this time. Name Day should get up too, and go find Hissabeth, but he doesn't.

He can't.

The Storm came, and Name Day did what he does best—find the alcohol and drink the Storm away. He doesn't know how much he's drunk by this point, can't recall where he even found the bottles in the first place. But much like he had been on that day Ulrich found him, he sits in the stairwell and drinks and drinks until he feels nothing. It's best this way, he tells himself, twirling the knife he uses to carve between his fingers, resisting the temptation that calls for him. Best to feel nothing, and be nothing, and do nothing. He holds the blade in one hand, uses the other to down the rest of the bottle, feeling the liquid burn as it pools in his stomach.

It's empty, the dog whispers in his ear.

Name Day discards the empty bottle and reaches for another, downing a quarter of it, before it slips through his fingers and falls to the ground. He follows it down, cheek pressing against a cold floor, and stares at nothing. Not that there's anything but grey walls and the red on his arm to stare it, but he can't see them anyway, vision blurring far too much for him to make out anything but the mess in front of him. He's an absolute disgrace of a human being, throwing the hard work of everyone that cares for him right back in their faces. He'd asked for their help to get up the slope and here he is, lying at the bottom of it again, alone, because he'd slunk away after the dog that called for him.

It curls around him now, no longer laughing, but its tail wags happily, pleased with what he's giving it.