#em3

Four days. Four days since the door closed on your prison cell. Four days since you saw the light of day. Four days until you stepped outside and felt the sun blanketing your skin. You missed the sun, you missed the wind, you missed Alexandria, and, more importantly, you missed Carl. You missed the way that he held you, the way he kissed you, the way he whispered sweet nothings in your ear to make you feel better, and the way he said your name. You missed that voice. His soothing voice. What kept you through the torture of being left in the dark room was always him and you knew that he was going to keep his word. You knew that he was going to get you back, just like he told you he would.

The room was pitch black. Easy Street echoed through the corridor. It wasn’t excessively loud to the point where it was blaring in your ear, but it was still noticeably annoying. The tray that sat beside your sweating body used to be filled with a small amount of canned fruit, old bread, and semi-fresh meat. Your stomach growled, still hungry from the lack of nutrients that you received. However, they still fed you enough to satisfy the hunger that lingered within your stomach. Still, it wasn’t easy being kept prisoner to a psychotic bastard that was thirsty for blood and power.

As light flooded into the room, you covered your eyes, head aching because of the bright rays. You cringed and moved towards the far corner of the enclosed room. You blinked and tried to stare up at the person that entered the room to take your tray. From the outline, you gave a small guess that it was a male. You noticed that there was an overabundance of men in the Sanctuary that actually worked. You didn’t see many female workers. You could only assume that Negan was a chauvinistic pig that liked it when men worked and when women did the sexual pleasing, which made him look like even more of an asshole than the first day you met him.

Your pupils began to adjust to the new degree of light the longer you kept your eyes open. The man said nothing to you. All he did was he walked over to the tray, picked it up, and left the room, closing the door directly afterwards. You were used to the silence given to you by everyone else. Hell, the only people who would actually talk to you were the wives, when they clothed you and assisted you with the baths, and Negan. No one else bothered to talk to you unless they absolutely had to, and even then it wasn’t very often. Negan would prefer talking to you himself with that disgusting smirk that he wore on his face most of the time. You hated it.

As soon as the man left the room, you were able to relax internally once again. You sat down on the ground, shoulders slumped and head leaned back against the concrete wall. For a brief moment, you glanced at the door before you began to crawl over to it. You knelt down in front of the metal door, hesitantly reached up, wrapped your fingers around the doorknob, and took a deep breath.

Every time someone left the room, whether it was after they gave you food, clothed you, or took the food away, you always made your way slowly over to the door and made sure you checked the doorknob. There was just a feeling in the pit of your stomach that gave you the idea that there was bound to be some moron that didn’t lock the door as they left. You always figured that it was worth a shot. The worst thing that could happen is the door was still locked, right?  

Once you waited a couple of seconds, guaranteeing that the man was out of sight, you turned the doorknob, expecting it to catch before it got to the halfway point. However, that wasn’t the case. It kept going and going and going until you heard the click and the door slowly opened up. Your eyes widened. Quickly, you glanced around. The hall was empty and the only sound that was able to hit your ear was the lyrics to Easy Street.  

Not knowing what to do, you closed the door. This was your chance. The chance to escape from the prison you had been stuck in for four days. Did you have a plan? No. At that moment, though, you had to think of a way to get out without anyone finding out. How would you do that? You didn’t know your way around the Sanctuary and any hall you turned down could be leading you into a trap filled with men ready to kill you or bring you back. What if Negan found out? You were definitely dead then. Either that or you would go with smaller portion sizes than you were already limited to. You really didn’t want that.

However, this was a chance for you to escape. A chance for you to finally see your family again. To see Judith, Carl, Rick, Michonne, Maggie….Maggie. You wanted to see your mom. She must have been worried sick about you and you could do nothing about it. You couldn’t call her and tell her that you were alright. You could just wish that you would get to leave soon or that the plan you were building up inside your head would work somehow. You weren’t confident with the latter option. All you could hope was that no one would come into your cell so that it gave you enough time to think of a plan and attempt your escape.

So you moved beside the door and sat down in the corner of the room, back pressed up against the concrete wall. Your knees were drawn to your chest and your eyes were focused on the wall across from you. Your wrists were resting gently on top of your knees, allowing your hands to hang in front of your legs. Slowly, you took a deep breath and closed your eyes, trying your best to drown out the music that was sticking to your eardrums like glue. With your even breathing you attempted to keep your mind focused on the task at hand: creating a rough escape route and a way to get out of it if you were to get caught.

You couldn’t give the exact amount of time that you took before you finally decided on a rough plan. No one had come back yet, so the door stayed unlocked. The plan you had conceived was, indeed, rough, but in the end it could work if you executed it correctly. The plan was simple. All you had to do was use your ears and stealth to attempt to sneak your way through the Sanctuary and to the outside world that you hadn’t seen in days. It was risky, but it was still worth a shot. Part of you trusted that Negan wasn’t going to kill you just because you snuck out because someone left the door open, but the other part of you said the opposite part was stupid, that Negan was not someone to be trusted. You didn’t know what to believe. Negan could kill you or he could just take you back to the cell and make sure that it was locked. In the end, you would take a smaller amount of food over death any day.

With the plan formulated in your head, you slowly moved back over to the door. You pressed your ear against the door, closing your eyes, trying to concentrate on the sounds outside, attempting to single out the annoying song that filled your ear. Aside from the song, there was nothing on the outside. You let out a small breath of air before you grabbed the doorknob, wrapping your fingers slowly around it. Your hands were shaking, the nerves flooding your body. A part of you was trying to talk you out of trying to escape from the room, but the other part was screaming at you to run and never go back. You had to listen to that voice. To the voice that told you you had to do anything to go back to your mother and boyfriend. Anything.

After a couple more seconds of contemplation, you finally opened the door, making sure that it was as quiet as possible. You cringed as the lights hit your face. You had to wait a couple of seconds in order get your eyes adjusted to the light. It took about half a minute before you were able to see the hallway. You groaned and rubbed your eyes. The hallway was empty. Thank God. You went to stand up before you heard a couple of footsteps. You cursed underneath your breath as you slowly closed the door. You pressed your ear against the metal and closed your eyes, trying to hear anything that was going on. You could barely make out the words that were being spoken as another metal door opened.

“The boss’ll have you come out when he thinks you’ll be useful again, Daryl,” the voice was a deep, scratchy one that sounded as if it belonged to a male.

A frown fell upon your lips as you heard the name echoing down the hallway. Daryl was a rather common name, but was it just a coincidence, or was it your Daryl. The Daryl that was at the lineup with you the night when your father was killed. How had you not figured out that he was there sooner?

The heavy door at the end of the hall began to squeak as it was shut and locked. There were two voices that spoke to one another very faintly before the voices, as well as the footsteps, disappeared, Easy Street flooding the halls once again. You let out a huff of relief before you grabbed the doorknob and slowly twisted it again, a bit more confident than before. You stood up and opened the door, trying to make sure that it didn’t creak. After you left the room, you decided to close the door, doing it bit by bit until it clicked shut. It made a small noise, but nothing that wasn’t able to be drowned out by the torture that you faced for four days straight.

Turning down the hallway, you rushed quietly down to the very last door on the right. You stopped in front of it. In that location, the song was louder and even more tortuous. You pressed your hands against the door and pressed your ear against it. You heard nothing. You knocked quietly on the door. “Daryl?” You whispered.

There was no response for a while before the familiar, deep, scruffy voice filled your ears. “(Y/N)?” He questioned. Shuffling was heard inside the room and you could only assume that Daryl moved closer to the door. “What’re you doing ‘ere?” His voice was louder that time.

You could feel the tears of happiness well in the corner of your eyes. You sniffled and leaned against the door. “Oh my God,” you whispered. “Oh my God, I thought you died. I thought we lost you.”

“I’m alive. Barely.”

“Did they hurt you? What have they done to you?”

“It dun’ matter. Why’re you ‘ere?”

You hesitated and bit your lip before you closed your eyes. “He took me. Negan came to Alexandria, took almost half of our stuff, and...when he was going to take the medicine, Carl got in the way. He got mad and held a gun to this fatass’ head. Negan didn’t like that and...he took me away. He put me in the cell a little ways down the hallway.”

“Did he touch ya?”

“No!” You exclaimed quietly. “He never laid a hand on me. He only threatened me. That’s it.”

“How long have you been ‘ere?”

“About four days.” There was silence between the two of you. After a while, you raised your brows and turned back towards the door. “You have to come with me.”

“What?”

“I can break you out,” you reached down for the handle. “We can get out together and go back home and-” when you turned the handle, it stopped halfway. You frowned and looked down and jiggled the doorknob. Glancing directly below the doorknob, you saw a keyhole and frowned. “I-I can’t unlock it. I don’t have a key. I’ll go find it!”

“No, (Y/N),” Daryl began.

You turned around, though, and went to make your way up the stairs, only to be met with a rock hard chest. You backed up and stared up at the face of a Savior. Your eyes widened.

“Well, well, well. What do we have here? How did you get out?” His voice was dark, deep, and gruff. He crossed his strong arms in front of his broad chest.

You paled and began to trip over your own words. “I-I, um, ugh…”

The man chuckled and lowered his arms. “Let’s see what Negan has to say about this.” He told you before he reached down and grabbed you by your hair, tangling the strands into his thick, sausage-like fingers. He pulled, causing a sharp pain to soar through your scalp. You let out a cry as he began to drag you up the stairs.

Pounding came from behind you as well as shouts of your name. Daryl was calling out for you but he could do nothing about it. He couldn’t break out of the cell and save you no matter how hard he hit the metal door. He owed you that much, at least. It was all to no avail, though. As the man dragged you deeper and deeper into the Sanctuary, the desperate noises coming from your friend fading into the background before it transformed into silence.

Your hands were wrapped around his wrist as you tried to push his hand away and kick at his ankles, but he continued to drag you through the winding, confusing halls. Looking around at your surroundings, you knew that there was no way you would have been able to escape from the complex halls. You would have ended up getting lost and running into one of the saviors. Either way, stumbling through the halls, fingers wrapped around a man’s wrists as you tried to escape his grasp, was a likely scenario no matter how stealthy you were with your rough plan. You should have just stayed in your cell.

It didn’t take long before you were taken to a rather active part of the Sanctuary. From room to room you heard conversations. Some of them were tactical and serious and others were playful and casual. Your head continued to throb as the man pulled on your hair, dragging you through the halls and up a two flights of stairs. Tears were running down your face from the stinging pain in your head.

“Let me go! Please let me go!” You cried out as you tried to pull yourself away from the man, but it only resulted in more pain as he yanked your body closer to his.

“Keep your goddamn mouth shut, kid.” He growled.

A couple of flights of stairs later, you went down another hallway, still being dragged by your hair, the pain nonstop and a headache slowly beginning to develop. The third door on the left was the one that was knocked on. There were a couple of voices coming from inside, but once the massive man knocked on the door, the voices stopped and a deep, familiar voice filled your eardrums.

“Come on in,” it was Negan.

Your eyes widened once the man opened the door and dragged you easily inside, throwing you onto the ground, closing the door behind him. You reached up and grabbed your head, rubbing it gently to try and ease the pain that was soaring through your scalp. A deep chuckle came from in front of you. Glancing up, you could see Negan sitting in one of the many chairs that surrounded a metal, oblong table. Negan’s feet were on the table and Lucille was at his side. In the rest of the room, there were multiple Saviors who sat at the table, Simon sitting at the other end of the table, directly across from Negan. The group of men turned and looked at you and as well as the other Savior.

“Well, well, well,” he hummed and removed his feet from the table and moved the chair back in order to stand up. He swung Lucille over his shoulder as he stalked closer to you. “What the fucking fuck do we have fucking here?”

“I found her out of her cell and talking to the redneck bastard.” The man said. “She said she was going to go get the key to get him out.”

“You would have never fucking found that key, ya’know?” You said nothing in response to him. “How the fuck did you fucking get out of your fucking cell, huh?”

“Um…” you swallowed the lump that was in your throat. “W-When s-s-someone-”

“Quit fucking stuttering.” He said with a deep, dominant voice.

Again, you swallowed, trying to steady your tone of voice so that you didn’t get him angrier than he was starting to become.

“When someone came into my cell to get the tray from lunch, they left the door unlocked. I decided to...try and get out.”

Negan raised his brows. “So you didn’t fucking escape. You opened the fucking door because some worthless fucker left the goddamn thing open.”

You nodded slowly.

Negan raised his brows and glanced at the man who had brought you into the room. “I want you to find out who the fuck was the last one inside of her cell,” he said, gesturing to him with Lucille. He then glanced back at you. “You didn’t, by any fucking chance, get a good look at the ignorant fucker that left the door open, did you?”

You shook your head. “No,” you began. “I was blinded by the light.”

“Well, what the fuck ever. We’ll get the son of a bitch.” He turned towards the man. “Go fucking get him.”

“Yes, boss.” He said as he turned and walked out of the room, closing the door behind him.

Negan licked his bottom lip as he turned his gaze at you. He gestured up with his bat. “Get up.”

You pressed your hands against the concrete floor and pushed yourself up until you were standing in front of him.

Negan licked his teeth, smirking, leaning to the side. “I want you to go ahead and say you’re sorry.” He said.

You looked down at the ground, folding your hands in front of one another. “Sorry,” your voice was timid and rather quiet.

Negan shook his head. “No. That was fucking pathetic.” Negan’s voice was a deep, dark whisper that made shivers run down your spine. “I want you to really apologize.”

“I’m sorry for leaving the room, Negan.”

“There you go. That’s fucking like it. Now, what are we supposed to fucking do with you? I can’t put you back in your goddamn cell, unchained at least. How about I leave you with my wives? I don’t feel like fucking them right now anyway.”

You grimaced at the words he spoke about chaining you up as well as his wives. He was a disgusting man and you would do anything to get away from him. The wives didn’t sound so bad, after all.

Negan glanced at one of the men that were surrounding the table and gestured for him to get up. He stood up and walked over to you. He grabbed your wrist tightly and pulled you close to him.

“Take it fucking easy, asshole.” Negan told the man and his grip on your wrist loosened slightly. “Go ahead and take her to Sherry and tell her what fucking happened. Make sure she doesn’t fucking take her out of her fucking sight.”

“Will do,” he said.

Before he got a chance to turn and leave, Negan pointed a gloved finger at you. “Don’t fucking test me, kid. Because I have been nice so far. You won’t like me when I’m not fucking nice. You saw what I did to your old man.”

You narrowed your eyes and clenched your jaw as the man dragged you out of the room, closing the door behind him. Once you were out, you were able to keep up the pace right behind him. He wasn’t as violent as the man before. You were thankful for that. You went down the stairs, only one flight, before going down the hallway. You looked around and could recall the area that you were entering. You were near the area where the wives were. You walked directly behind the man until he brought you to the room filled with women wearing fitted black dresses that went down to their knees and heels to match.

“Sherry,” the man called out, getting the women’s attention. They turned their heads to look at him.

Sherry emerged from the group of women, stepping forward. She furrowed her brows. “What’s going on? It’s not time for-”

“This one escaped from her cell,” he said and practically threw you at the wife.

Sherry raised her brows and caught you, placing her hands gently on your sides and bringing you closer to her.

“Negan said for you to look after her. I don’t know what he plans on doing, but he doesn’t trust be with being alone.” He told her before he simply left the room, not looking back.

Sherry glanced down at you as you stood up straight and looked down at the ground. “Are you alright, (Y/N)?” She asked. ‘Did they hurt you?”

“A bit? Negan didn’t, but this asshole pulled my hair.” You said, reaching up and rubbing the back of your head for emphasis.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “What were you thinking escaping from your cell?”

“A guy left the door unlocked. I couldn’t...I couldn’t just stay in there. I have to get home. I have to see my family. I have to see Carl. I have to get Daryl out, too.”

“Sweetheart, you weren’t going to get out. This place is huge and confusing. It took us weeks to remember where everything was.”

You glanced up at Sherry and then looked back down at the ground and nodded your head in understanding. “I know,” she said with a heavy sigh. “I just...I have to leave, Sherry. I have to go home. It’s been four days.”

“I know, (Y/N).” Sherry moved you over to the couch and sat you down. She slowly sat next to you. Sherry reached up and ran her fingers through her hair. “I’m sorry that Negan has done this to you. He’s an asshole. He really is. I wish that there was something that we could do to get you out of here, but we have to look out for each other. We don’t want Negan to do anything to us or to the people that we love. Do you understand?”

“I don’t expect you to do anything to help me out. I understand that you have to do what he says.”

“And you have to listen to him too if you know what is best for you. He won’t do anything to hurt you if you just do as he tells you.”

You raised your brows and your shoulders slumped as you glanced down at the ground.

“Because, right now, that’s the only thing that can guarantee that you get back to your boyfriend safely.”

“But when am I going to go back with him?”

Sherry opened her mouth as if to say something, but she closed it just as quickly as she opened it. She looked into your eyes and you looked into hers. Sherry shook her head after a couple minutes of silence. By then, the wives had gone back to what they had been doing, glancing at you and Sherry every now and then.

“I don’t know, (Y/N). But I know that you’ll be able to go back home to him, eventually.” Sherry told you with a soothing tone as she reached up and ran her fingers through your hair. “Don’t worry.”

It was hard not to worry, though. Four consecutive days without sunlight or even a glance at the outside world could make an individual go stir crazy. It made the want to go home stronger than ever before, even if you couldn’t do anything about it. You felt tears slowly appear in your eyes. You looked up at Sherry.

“I miss him, Sherry,” you said with a small, timid voice.

Sherry sighed and reached up and wiped the tears away from your cheeks. “I know, (Y/N), I know.” She opened her arms, welcoming you into a hug. You nodded and wrapped your arms around her loosely.

Ever since you arrived, you could tell that Sherry was completely against whatever Negan did. You could tell it from the way that her tone of voice was the first time you met and you could tell by the way she trash talked him whenever she could around you. In a way, Sherry was the one person that was keeping you sane through your entire time at the Sanctuary. For that, you were thankful and you hoped that she made it through this mess of a world. She was a wonderful person. She was the only Savior that you could trust. So she could be the only one to ask the next question.

“So what do I do to get out of here?” You whispered.

Sherry glanced at you and raised her brows. She shook her head. “Like I said; just do what he says. He will treat you a lot better and then, hopefully, you will be able to go home soon. I’ll have a talk with him, but I’m not entirely sure he will listen to me.” You let out a small sigh and your shoulders slumped as you looked down at your feet. Sherry wrapped her arm around your shoulders and brought you close so that you could lay your head on her shoulder. “All you have to do is wait. You will get to go home eventually.”

Eventually. That term could mean many different amounts of time. It could mean tomorrow, it could mean two weeks, it could mean two months. Hell, it could even mean more than a year. You could even stay at the Sanctuary forever. You didn’t know. Waiting wasn’t the only thing you needed to do. You also needed to have hope. You needed to have the hope that you would be able to escape some day. Either that or the hope that Carl would break in, come get you, and save you as if the two of you were in one of those cliche fairy tales. No matter how you were saved or how you escaped, you would see your boyfriend again. You would see your family again. You would see your mother again. All you had to do was wait.

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Tag List: 

In a panic, Oswald put one of his ears to Mickey's chest and listened with bated breath. He heard a faint thudding and breathed a sigh of relief. Once help got here, everything would be okay. Everything was gonna be okay.

He gently slipped a hand under Mickey’s head, cushioning it as best he could. "Hang in there, Mick," he murmured.

"Oswald!" The rabbit looked up as Ortensia raced toward him. "We came as fast as we could! The Mad Doctor is on his way, and—" She broke off and her eyes went wide with horror. "Oh... oh, no..."

"He’ll be okay, Ortensia, but he needs help right away," Oswald said, his voice trembling just slightly. His imaginary heart was beating a million miles a minute as he waited what felt like eons for the Mad Doctor to arrive.

Suddenly, Oswald’s ears shot up at the sound of a faint moan and he looked down as Mickey opened his eyes a little. They were alarmingly dull, but the pleading in them was clear as he forced out a weak whisper. "Mih... Minnie..."

Oswald swallowed hard. "Mickey..."

Ortensia knelt beside him, putting a hand on the mouse's cheek. Oswald saw the tears in her eyes and forced back his own. He had to be strong—for her and for Mickey.

Then suddenly, Ortensia gasped and tugged at his arm. Oswald looked up to see the Mad Doctor hurrying into the room, stumbling under a massive load of equipment. A sense of relief washed over the rabbit.

"Doc!" he called with a frantic wave. "Over here!"

The Mad Doctor rushed over, plopping down his cargo and setting everything up with cartoonish speed. Oswald waited, his mind racing with possible solutions.

"Doc, I'm willin' to do an ink transfusion or somethin' to make up for the lost ink, if that'll help! Whaddya think?" the rabbit offered, speaking rather rapidly.

The Mad Doctor hurried over and bent down for a closer look, a rare frown of concern creasing his brow. "Let's not get ahead of ourselves... something like that is an extreme measure. Let me see what I can do first."

"Doc, in case ya couldn't tell, this is an extreme situation, and extreme situations call for extreme measures! If there's anythin' I can do, let me do it!"

Despite Oswald's harsh tone, the Mad Doctor's reply was calm and firm, with a noticeable touch of sympathy. "If it becomes necessary, I'll do so right away. But first, I need to determine whether or not it's the best option."

Oswald let out a sigh. "Alright." He carefully handed Mickey over to the Mad Doctor and watched anxiously as the Doc got to work.

Ortensia walked up beside him and ran her hand across his back, trying to keep the tremor out of her voice. "Don't worry, Honey Bunny... he knows what to do."

"I know..." Oswald mumbled, wringing his hands as his foot thumped impatiently. He noticed something out of the corner of his eye and glanced to his left. Prescott hovered nearby, Gus patting his shoulder. The gremlin's face was haggard with guilt and fear as he watched the Mad Doctor. The silence and tension in the air was nearly unbearable as all eyes remained on the Mad Doctor.

After what felt like ages, the Doctor straightened up. Slowly, he removed his goggles and let out a heavy sigh.

"So... what's the verdict, Doc?" Oswald asked nervously, stepping forward.

The Mad Doctor turned to face him, and the look on his face was one nobody had ever seen before. His head tilted down utter defeat. "I'm afraid... we cannot help him."

As soon as the words reached his ears, Oswald felt his body go cold. "Wh-What?" He shook his head. "No, we can't give up! There's gotta be something we can do—anythin'! Just... give him some of my ink, as much as it takes!"

The Mad Doctor sighed again, looking at the floor. "You must understand... even if I did, it wouldn't do any good. He's lost too much."

Oswald's throat tightened. "But, that's... that can't be it! There's gotta be a way! C'mon, Doc, please! Ya gotta at least try!" he begged, pulling the Mad Doctor down to his level by his collar and shaking him in desperation. The Doctor waited until he stopped, then placed a hand on the rabbit's shoulder and spoke with more sincerity than most thought him capable of.

"I'm sorry, my friend."

Oswald's body trembled and became rigid, the Doctor's coat slowly slipping through his fingers as his expression twisted with utter grief and despair. A stunned silence filled the room, each toon slowly grasping the reality of what was happening. All of a sudden, Prescott whirled around and charged at the Petes in a blind rage.

"BLOODY IDIOTS! I told you it was too much! I told you this would happen!"

Gus barely snapped out of his own shock in time to grab his fellow gremlin and hold him back. "Prescott! Steady, man! Get ahold of yourself!" His voice trembled a little as he continued. "It won't do any good. They're not worth it."

Prescott's wild struggles slowed, then stopped. His angry snarls faded into whimpers as he clutched his head in his hands. "I... I tried..."

Gus eased his grip a little, sniffling back tears. "I know, lad," he murmured. "I know."

As if in a trance, Oswald walked over to Mickey and sank to his knees, staring at his brother’s unresponsive face. He bit back tears as he lifted the mouse into his lap.

"You listen to me, Mick; you're gonna be just fine, and you're gonna pull through. Got it? No matter what they say, I know ya can beat this. 'Cause you're so strong and ya always pull through—no matter what." His voice began to choke. "Ya never go down without a fight."

Then, to his horror, he noticed the mouse's breathing had stopped and the color was beginning to drain from the mouse's body, his black fur and brightly-colored outfit slowly fading to a dull gray.

"Don't you dare do this to me! I'm just gettin' to know ya after all these years, and I won't let you just end it here!" Oswald let out an agonized growl and hugged Mickey’s limp body close, shutting his eyes as his body began shaking with muffled sobs.

Ortensia, struggling to suppress her own tears, took a step forward, but then stopped. The Mad Doctor and the other toons stood in mournful silence; even the Petes were subdued. Ortensia watched Oswald with tear-filled eyes, wishing she could comfort him, but knowing there was nothing she could do.

Unbeknownst to Oswald, the brush poking out of his pocket was beginning to emit a pale blue light. Paint slowly gathered on its tip until a large drop had formed. The shimmering drop of Paint then detached itself from the brush and slowly floated upward.

Hearing soft gasps from those around him, Oswald lifted his head and stared at the bright orb in confusion. Its glow was warm and ethereal, with a strange sense about it that he couldn't quite put into words. It came closer, moving down toward Mickey's limp body until it touched his chest, absorbing into it. The spot where it had entered flashed suddenly, then a soft glow began to spread throughout the mouse's body. The light began to pulse, and Oswald could swear he saw waves of color flowing back into Mickey's body with each one.

As the light slowly faded, Oswald's mind was spinning so fast, he could hardly bear it. However, before he could even begin to process what he had just witnessed, he suddenly felt a slight movement in his arms. There was a soft moan and Oswald looked down to see Mickey's eyes slowly opening.

"Mickey?" Oswald breathed in astonishment.

"O-... Oswald...?" The mouse's voice sounded weak, but no longer in pain.

"MICKEY!" Oswald suddenly squeezed him tight, sobbing with relief. He barely even noticed the gasps and cries of relief from those around him. "I’m so glad you're okay," he choked out. He had no idea how this was possible, but he didn't care. Mickey was okay and that was all that mattered.

As the rabbit held him, Mickey felt his throat tighten. He'd never seen Oswald like this before. It was a bit unsettling, but also comforting to know he cared, like family should. Family.

The mouse's eyes widened. Somehow, he kept forgetting that Oswald was his brother. After a lifetime of absence, it was hard to get used to that fact. Sure, he knew the fact itself was true, but feeling it was true was a whole other picture. But now, after all they'd been through together, Mickey suddenly felt less alone in Wasteland. As much as he missed home, it was comforting to finally feel he had family in this world too. Family that cared just as much for him as he did for them.

At those thoughts, Mickey gave a small smile and weakly returned the hug. "Y'know, you're just like him."

"What?" Oswald pulled out of the hug and looked at the mouse in confusion.

Mickey nodded. "I've seen it since I first came here. Not just 'cause ya were... downright stubborn, but how ya did things. How folks respected ya, even if they didn't agree with ya." His eyes grew glossy. "It's like there's a piece of him inside ya."

The rabbit's eyes widened, a small blush sweeping across his face. "I don't know about that, but thanks."

Suddenly, Ortensia raced over and threw her arms around them both, half laughing and half crying. "Oh, thank heavens! We were so afraid!"

Oswald smiled and gave Ortensia a passionate kiss on the lips. She returned it and gave him another hug. A muffled grunt of pain escaped Oswald as he suddenly became aware of the throbbing pain in the wounds on his front and back.

Ortensia gasped and drew back, her joy quickly replaced with worry. "Oh! Sweetie, are you all right?"

Oswald quickly pushed his discomfort back and gave her a smile. "Yeah, I'm fine."

Ortensia continued examining him anxiously. "We should get some Paint..."

"I'll be fine," Oswald insisted.

The Mad Doctor stepped forward, his mouth still hanging open, and bent down curiously, checking Mickey's pulse and other vital signs. The semi-conscious mouse stirred again, mumbling. "Remarkable!" the Doctor murmured.

Oswald couldn't help smiling. "Yeah, well..." He shrugged. "He's a tough fighter. Runs in the family." He paused, his smile faltering as he thought back. "Say, Doc... any idea what that light was?"

The Mad Doctor blinked and furrowed his brow, rubbing his chin. "I'm not quite sure..." He glanced down at the brush poking out of Oswald's pocket. "It seemed to come from the brush, though I never suspected its capabilities extended so far."

"The brush...?" Oswald shifted Mickey to one arm as he pulled the brush out of his pocket and examined it. "But... how? I wasn't even usin' it."

"I should also perform a full examination at some point," the Mad Doctor said, gesturing toward Mickey. "Just to be certain."

Oswald nodded. "Yeah, better let him rest a while first."

"And you too," Ortensia said, raising a brow. Oswald gave her a tired smile and squeezed her hand.

"I will in a little while, Hon. Just gonna make sure he's taken care of first."

The Mad Doctor placed a hand on Oswald's shoulder. "I can take you two back to Ostown."

Oswald gave him a small smile. "Thanks, Doc." Carefully, he lifted Mickey up over his shoulder, Ortensia helping him stand, then hopped up onto the Doc's flying contraption. Its engines whirred to life as the Doc started it up and took off.

The locals were a little stirred up when the Mad Doctor landed in Ostown, but the mood quickly turned to happy surprise and concern when they saw the two passengers. Oswald thanked the Doctor as he hopped down onto the pavement, carrying Mickey to his and Ortensia's house. Residents hurried up with concerned questions about his scars and Mickey's condition, but Oswald assured them they'd both be fine with a bit of rest.

Oswald carried Mickey upstairs to the bedroom, then used an ear to pull back the covers as he carefully laid him in bed, tucking him in. He smiled at how peaceful the mouse looked. "Glad you're okay," he murmured. Then, stretching tiredly, he plopped down into a chair beside the bed, letting out a long, exhausted sigh. He was feeling pretty worn out from the fight himself, but he had been so focused on Mickey that he hadn't really realized it until now.

After a while, a soft knock came from the doorway. Oswald looked up and smiled when Ortensia padded into the room and over to him, carrying a small container of Paint. Setting it on the floor, she smiled and gently rubbed behind his ears. Oswald let out a pleasured sigh as his foot began thumping.

"How're you feeling?" Ortensia purred.

"Great, now that you're here," Oswald mumbled in a daze, wearing a silly grin.

Ortensia giggled and kissed his nose, then picked up the Paint. "I brought this... It should help."

"Oh, thanks, hon, they aren't really that ba—AGH... ahhh..." He flinched at the initial stinging, then moaned in relief as she brushed the Paint onto his wounds. They healed up as his skin absorbed the Paint, but faint scars still remained. They would still have to heal on their own in time.

Ortensia finished applying the Paint, then slid into the chair beside Oswald, nuzzling him. "I'm so proud of you, Hunny Bunny."

Oswald's cheeks turned pink. "You are?"

"Of course, silly," she replied, giggling again. "Who wouldn't be?"

Oswald thought for a moment, then smirked. "Well, when ya put it that way..."

Ortensia smirked back and poked his nose playfully. "You're impossible, you know that?"

Oswald snickered. "No idea what you're talkin' about."

They sat in silence for a while, just enjoying being near each other. Then, after a while, Ortensia squeezed his hand.

"I'd better go make sure the kids are okay. They've been pretty worried. Now, you get some rest, Honey Bunny."

Oswald nodded. They shared a quick kiss on the lips, then Ortensia hopped up, gave a little wave, and left. Oswald laid back in the chair, letting out a long sigh as he relaxed. Before he knew it, he was out like a light.

Mickey stirred as he came to, finding himself lying on a soft, warm surface. He sighed quietly and opened his eyes, blinking to clear his hazy vision. Slight confusion came at his surroundings, then he realized he was back in the guest room at Oswald and Ortensia's house. When faint snoring came from nearby, he glanced to his right. Oswald was fast asleep in a chair, his foot twitching every so often.

Mickey smiled, a warm feeling of gratitude filling him. Then Oswald shifted positions, revealing the claw marks on his front and back, and Mickey's smile faded, an intense sense of guilt swelling up inside of him.

This is all my fault... Oswald's hurt because of me...

He let out a heavy sigh as he sat up, debating whether or not to wake the rabbit. However, the mouse's decision was made for him as Oswald suddenly began to stir. The rabbit groaned softly, stretching and rubbing his eyes. Glancing over at the bed, he was glad to see Mickey sitting up.

"Hey, how ya feelin'?" Oswald asked, getting up and walking over to him.

Mickey rubbed his still-hazy head and smiled. "Better now."

"I'm glad," Oswald said, smiling back. "Heh, ya really had me goin' for a while there." A lump formed in his throat.

Mickey felt a slight chill at those words. Between pushing Oswald out of the Blot's path and then waking up in his arms, he remembered almost nothing. "Os, I... I'm sorry if I scared ya. I just..." He trailed off when Oswald let out a long, tired sigh, rubbing his forehead before looking up again.

"Why did you do that?"

Mickey stared at him, thoroughly confused by now. "Oswald, the Blot came back 'cause of me! I couldn't let it hurt ya more!"

Oswald shook his head, irritation showing on his face. "No, the Blot came back because of the Petes! It had nothin' t’ do with you!"

Mickey clutched the covers as his voice rose. "I'm the reason it even existed in the first place! Was I supposed t’ just sit there and let it all happen again?"

"That was an accident! Ya said so yourself!"

Mickey clenched his fists and opened his mouth to shout back, but a sudden dizzy spell stopped him. "Agh..." He clutched his head.

Oswald grasped the mouse's shoulders. "Mickey, ya gotta stop this," he said firmly. "Ya can't keep beatin' yourself up over this."

Mickey only looked away, torn between a longing to finally let it all go and feeling that he didn’t deserve that closure. Slowly, he looked back toward Oswald, but then his eyes shifted to the area past him and suddenly, he froze, eyes going wide.

"Mickey?" Oswald asked, a bit concerned.

Mickey opened his mouth, but couldn't even form words. Finally, he raised a trembling finger and pointed past Oswald.

"Huh?" Oswald turned to see a strange, glowing orb floating beside them. It pulsed, many different colors running through it as it began growing rapidly in size, reshaping until it formed a tall, glowing figure. As the light began to dim, the facial features became visible, eliciting a gasp from both Oswald and Mickey. Oswald felt his chest go cold as he stared. It couldn't be possible... it just couldn't. He faintly heard Mickey croak out a single word.

"D-... Dad...?"

The man's smile widened, and he spoke in a gentle voice. "It's all right... no need to be scared."

Within seconds, Mickey had leapt out of bed and hurled himself into his creator's arms. He had no idea what was happening or how it was even possible, but he was too overjoyed to care. "Dad!" Tears streamed down his face as he buried it in the man's shoulder, barely managing to choke out words. "I-I missed you so much..."

Oswald remained frozen in shock, his body trembling. As the man stroked Mickey's head, he looked over at the rabbit and Oswald felt himself shrink under his father's gaze. So many mixed emotions swirled about in his mind that he didn't know what to feel. He wanted to run to him, he wanted to run away from him, he wanted to hug him, and to yell at him—all at the same time.

"Oswald, I..." The man hesitated, struggling to put everything into words. Finally, he said the only thing he could. "I'm sorry."

Oswald huffed, crossing his arms and turning away. As if a simple 'Sorry' was going to fix everything, erase all those years of suffering and abandonment. Did he even comprehend the extent of the hurt he'd inflicted on the rabbit?

Walt let out a sigh. Oswald's reaction didn't surprise him; he knew the rabbit had every right to hate him. Still, the least he could do was try to explain.

"I never meant for things to happen the way they did, but I made the mistake of trusting the wrong people." Walt's eyes grew distant and hardened. "I thought they were in the business for the same reasons I was: for more than just the money." He shook his head, and the bitterness in his voice was clear. "I was wrong. They double crossed me, and there was nothing I could do about it."

Oswald snuck a glance at him, then looked away as his throat tightened. "You never came back," he muttered in a tone mixed with hurt and bitterness.

Walt looked at the ground. "I know," he murmured. "I always hoped that someday I might be able to get you back, but I was afraid to try at the wrong time and... I waited too long. I let you down, and I can never say how sorry I am."

Oswald's face grew warm, his eyes filling with tears. "H-How could you...?" he choked out, almost in a whisper. "You have no idea what I went through – what they did t’ me."

A long silence filled the room, then Walt's strained voice broke it. "I know... and if you can't forgive me for it, I wouldn't blame you."

Oswald's tear-filled eyes widened, then scrunched shut as he shook his head. "You expect me to believe that you care, when all those years, you didn't even try once! Not even a letter! You just forgot me like everyone else!" His whole body was trembling with emotion at this point. "I just want to know—why? Why am I so forgettable? Even to you...?" A few muffled sobs escaped him, then a hand on his shoulder made him look up at Walt, who was now crouched down to his eye level.

"You're right, Oswald. I... should've done more." A tear rolled down the man's cheek. "But I didn't forget you. I could never do that, Oswald. Never. I thought about you all the time and kept up with any news I could find about you. I tried to send you letters too, but they must've intercepted them."

Oswald shook his head. "Then, why'd ya hafta go and—" He snuck a side glance over at Mickey. "...replace me? Ya didn't even tell him about me!"

Walt gave another sigh. "I just wanted to protect him." He glanced over at the mouse. "I'm sorry, Mickey. I was worried if you knew, you'd try to get him back, and it just wasn't possible at the time. You would've gotten into all kinds of trouble with them and I didn't want to lose you too."

Mickey looked at him with a strained expression. "I... understand, but I just wish ya woulda told me. He's my brother and he needed me all this time, and I never knew..."

"I'm sorry, Mickey. But I am glad that you two finally met." Walt turned back to Oswald. "Oswald, when I lost you, I was out of a job unless I created another Toon to fill your role. The truth is, Mickey turned out a lot like you because I just couldn't get you out of my head." Walt gave a small smile. "He was never meant to replace you, my lucky little star."

Tears welled up in Oswald's eyes, a small smile pushing its way onto his face. He'd always liked when Walt called him that.

Walt held out his arms, gently easing Oswald into a hug. The rabbit hesitated for a couple moments, then suddenly threw himself against Walt, squeezing him tight as sobs rattled his body. He felt his father's arms close around him in a tight embrace.

"I missed you so much," said Walt.

"I missed you too," Oswald gasped out between sniffles.

Mickey smiled as he watched, knowing how much this meant to Oswald. Then, all of a sudden, a realization hit him. "It... it was you, wasn't it?" Mickey said, wide-eyed. "You... you saved me?"

Oswald's eyes snapped open. "What?" he uttered, looking from Mickey to Walt.

A slightly mischievous smile crossed the man's lips—one not too unlike that of Mickey or Oswald. "Oh? And what makes you say that?"

Mickey blinked, his eyes growing moist. "Just b'fore I woke up, when everythin' started comin' back, it felt... familiar. It was like... when you n' Ub first drew me."

Walt nodded, petting Mickey's head. "With a bit of magic wielded by their creator, it's possible for Toons to be saved from becoming inert. It's what Yen Sid and I used to make this world and save forgotten Toons from oblivion."

The rabbit's eyes widened at this news. "You... and Yen Sid?"

The man nodded again.

Oswald's eyes glistened. "Thanks..." He glanced at Mickey and swallowed hard. "And for... saving him. I don't know what I'd a' done if... if..."

The look in his brother's eyes made Mickey feel both touched and guilty. "Os... I-I'm really sorry..."

"It's not your fault," Oswald reassured him.

Mickey glanced down at the ground, the old debate raging inside him. "No, I mean the Thinner Disaster, the Blot... I caused it all... I—" He felt a large hand on his shoulder and looked up with tear-filled eyes.

"It's alright, Mickey," his father told him.

Oswald gave him a smile and nodded in reassurance.

Slowly, tears filled Mickey's eyes and spilled down his face. Oswald wrapped his arms around the mouse in a tight, comforting hug. Mickey returned the hug, clinging more tightly to Oswald as his legs went weak, sniffling. Walt joined in as well, wrapping his arms around them both. Mickey sighed in contentment, feeling as if a huge weight had been lifted off his shoulders.

After a few moments had passed, Mickey suddenly pulled out of the hug, his eyes wide. "Os, your heart!"

Oswald looked confused. "Huh?"

"It's back! I heard it! Right there in your chest!"

"Y-You... what?" Oswald put a hand over the left side of his chest and held his breath. Thump. Thump. He let out a gasp. "But... i-it can't be... H-How...?" he stuttered in astonishment. A larger hand joined his, gently pressing against his chest, and he looked up to see Walt's twinkling eyes.

"It looks like it is," Walt said, smiling.

"But... h-how can I?" Oswald stared wide-eyed in disbelief, snapping back to reality when Mickey grabbed his shoulders, grinning like crazy.

"I knew it! I knew you'd get it back!"

"You knew I would...?" Oswald asked, still numb and expressionless from shock.

"Yes! I just knew it!"

Oswald put his hand to his chest again, feeling the steady thumping as it pulsed with everything he had ever wanted: warmth and love. "I can't believe it..." Oswald grinned, overcome with emotion as tears of joy rolled down his cheeks.

Mickey hugged his brother tight. "I'm so happy for ya, Os!"

Walt watched them with a proud smile. "I'm so proud of you both." He then reached over to give them one last hug as his form began to fade. "I have to go now, but don't worry; if you ever truly need me again, I’ll be here, in one form or another."

Instantly, tears ran down both Mickey's and Oswald's cheeks as they hugged their creator, their father, back as tight as they could, wanting to hold on to him as long as they could before the inevitable came. They each felt a loving kiss on their forehead as the last trace of their father faded away and dissolved into sparkling orbs of light. The bits of light continued to cling to them, still feeling like a warm hug as the lights slowly sunk into their ink and disappeared.

They stood there in silence for a few moments, then Oswald turned to Mickey, noticing the mouse's blank stare.

"Mickey?" He placed a hand on Mickey's shoulder and the mouse instantly sank to his knees, hugging himself as he began shaking. He couldn't even talk; something else was surging up. The raw, gaping hole he had felt inside ever since that night...

"I... I'm... sorry..." He barely managed to choke out the words before his voice gave out, struggling to contain his sobs.

The heartbroken sounds tugged at Oswald's heartstrings. He knelt down to the mouse's level and wrapped his arms around him. "It's okay. Just let it all out."

At those words, Mickey felt even more of the pain and guilt he'd been repressing for so long surge to the surface. He let it all out with deep, choking sobs as tears streamed down his face.

"That's it," Oswald said softly, rubbing Mickey's back.

As the raging emotions drained away, exhaustion flooded into its place. Mickey felt himself sagging, but his head was too numb to even think. Oswald, knowing all too well what his brother was going through, remained respectfully silent until he felt Mickey finally begin to relax.

"You all right?" Oswald asked softly.

A worn-out mumble answered him.

"Tired?" Oswald asked with a small smile, pulling Mickey away from him a bit so he could get a look at the mouse's face. Mickey managed a little smile in return and Oswald chuckled. "But ya just woke up, ya cheesehead!"

Mickey was too exhausted to shoot back with anything but an irritated grunt.

Oswald chuckled again before hoisting him up. "Alright, you're off th' hook for now."

He placed Mickey back in his bed and pulled the covers back over him. Mickey smiled and sighed as he quickly drifted back to sleep.

"Sweet dreams, Sleepyhead."

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