Ink_sap

Purple spends each night on the Skeld the same as always; curled up on an empty cot in the medical bay, a ring of salt laid out on the floor surrounding them—and a container hidden beneath their pillow for good measure—as they get some much-needed rest. Though not nearly as comfortable as their bed back home, Purple, in their wired and weary state, finds it a balm, an oasis graciously provided to them at the end of a horrifying, difficult, life-altering journey.

They can't recall how much time has passed since they expelled the Ore-Plus Eggs from storage, having lost track of the days with no sun to guide them in the endless abyss of deep space. Two, three, or ten, it hardly matters—or, at least, they can't find in themself to care, exhausted as they are.

All they know is that Industria is still a significant distance away. Red had informed them as much earlier in navigation, showing them the console with its bright, flashing indicators and estimated delivery date for the cargo they no longer possess.

Needless to say, they are royally fucked—but that's an issue reserved for future Red and Purple. Present Purple just wants to sleep.

And they do, until they're woken by a sudden shout.

Purple jumps out of bed with a start, one hand already sneaking under the pillow to grab the container of flakey salt. Their vision takes several seconds to adjust to the darkness, the various rumbling machines and ocassional gurgling of the water dispenser in the corner hardly audible over their racing heart.

"Who's there?" they ask, and feel astronomically foolish the instant the words have leave them. What a stupid question, they think, appealing to reason, swallowing the lump forming in their throat. There's only one person there. The only person that could be there.

"…Red?" they start next, cautious, as they slowly rise to their feet. Through the miniscule light provided by the active medical equipment, they spot the outline of Red's form lying prone on their own cot. They merely stare, befuddled, before realization dawns on them all at once.

They quietly approach Red, still asleep, and take their hand in theirs. It comes up warm and sweaty.

"Not this again," Purple says.

They nudge Red, trying to coax them awake. Red grunts, head tipping to the side. Their visor narrows. More sweat beads at their brow.

"No," says Red, strained, as if forcing themself to speak through an onslaught of tears. In Purple's, their hand slackens. "N-no, not another one. I can't…"

Purple takes a deep breath. They nudge Red again, firmer. "Red," they say.

"Captain…" Hushed, spoken barely above a whisper. Purple leans closer to hear what they're saying, but the words come out fragmented and hesitant. "I'm a… good captain…"

"Red," Purple echoes, low. They hate this. They hate it when Red gets like this, and hate themself being so affected by it, saddled with guilt and fear as they are. Though not the first occurence, it feels just as intense, and infinitely more worrying. They shake Red bearing urgency they would never admit to out loud.

Finally, Red startles into wakefulness, visor wide. They shoot upright as a flower rises to greet the sun, or how a venus flytrap shuts it maw to trap unwitting prey. They lunge forward on instinct, their clenched hands coming dangerously close to Purple's throat.

They stop themself just short of grabbing Purple, blinking rapidly as if to stave off the remnants of the nightmare they'd been having.

Purple simply stares. This, too, has become commonplace. Perhaps in the hours to come they might wonder whether their acquired lack of reaction is something worthy of commendation or concern.

Red meets their gaze, and Purple watches as their expression shifts from aggression to shock to remorse. Their hands fall to their sides, slack.

"Purps," they say, practically pant. Their chest heaves alongside each shaky, labored breath, signalling they haven't yet fully recovered, and so Purple maneuvers them to lie down once more.

They gently touch Red's cheek.

"Yeah," Purple replies. "It's just me, Redsie."

Red doesn't take long to recover. They never do, either due to sheer force of will or that false captainly bravado they refuse to let up even now, because they're so damn stubborn and annoying and insufferable and—

Purple sighs. "Well, as long as you've come to your senses." This, they say while they draw the thin hospital blanket over Red, exhaustion weighing on their body like a tsunami, threatening to drag them underneath its raging tides. They suppress their tiredness long enough to fetch some water and pull out a chair, sitting beside Red as they are wont to on nights like these.

"Thirsty?" Purple offers the cup. Red shakes their head and rises slowly, the blanket falling onto their lap.

"You don't need to worry about me," they insist, as they always do, wiping the sweat from their brow with an artifical smile. "Head back to sleep and I'll—"

"Just shut up, Red."

Red shuts up. Purple lifts the cup again and they finally take it, downing its contents in a single, desperate swig. Neither of them speaks, and the ensuing silence lasts somewhere between a minute and an eternity, broken only by the rhythmic beeping of the heart monitor. Purple absentmindedly rubs their thumbs together.

At last, Red scratches the back of their neck and asks, "Could I, uh, have seconds?"

"Sure," Purple says.

They replenish Red's cup, and wait until Red has their desired fill to shift their chair ever-so-slightly closer. Red doesn't seem to mind, accepting the hand that Purple lays on their forehead, testing their temperature.

"No fever," murmurs Purple. They withdraw, stamping down the relief that threatens to seep into their words. "That's good."

So it goes. With nothing else left tending to, Purple stands, eager to catch up on rest.

"Wait, Purps…"

Red suddenly grabs their hand, halting them in the same instant they turn to depart. When Purple looks at them, confused, their grip slackens, though they don't entirely reliquish their hold on Purple's fingers. "Can you…stay?"

Purple blinks. Well. This is definitely new.

"Huh? Why?" Purple points in the direction of their own cot, just a few short steps away. "It's not like I'm far off or anything."

"I know," Red says. Frustration edges their words, subtle but sharp as the industry-grade knives Yellow and Brown once wielded in the kitchen. "I know, but…can you…stay anyway?"

Purple squints at them.

They can't tell what Red is thinking. They've never been able to—not now, not when they were completing their internships together, not on the day Red threw aside their friendship over an NDA, and most certainly not during their brief stint as a captain, withholding essential information from the crew as the impostors picked them off them one-by-one.

It's aggravating. Infuriating, even. Purple almost wants to say no, tell Red to deal with whatever inner emotional turmoil they're going through on their own, but…

Almost.

"Fine," Purple says.

"Yeah, I understand," Red starts, disappointment is evident as they turn their gaze to the floor. "You don't have to—" A pause. Their visor snaps towards Purple, pathetic, hopeful. "Wait. Did you say yes?"

If Purple had eyes, they would no doubt be rolling them. "Yes," they hiss, as they motion Red to move over. "Hurry up. I'm not gonna sit here and wait all night."

They pretend they don't see the gleeful sparkle in Red's visor, and doubly pretend it doesn't make their gut twist or their heart leap. They're doing this for Red's sake, they reason. The sooner Red falls asleep means the sooner they get to sleep, and Red having another nightmare would only disturb their rest again, so helping them like this is beneficial for both of them. That's all.

Red shifts, rolling over to make room. They immediately take it, grabbing the edge of the blanket as to drag it half of it over themself, indulging in the miniscule warmth it provides.

Another issue arises, however.

The cot is way too small. Even by medical standards, it can barely hold one crewmate, let alone two. Purple left leg falls over the edge, and when they elbow Red, encouraging them to make more room, half their body meets open air. Purple loudly sighs.

"This isn't working." They think. Then they begin removing their pack.

Red squeaks and covers their face with their hands. "Whoa, Purps! What are you—"

"Shut up," Purple snaps, feeling their cheeks warm. "Just shut up and get undressed." They clear their throat. "Uh, please."

Red does so, their pack letting out a dull thud as it hits the floor. Their gaze shifts, like they can't quite look at Purple directly, as they scramble to lie down once more. Purple is promptly greeted to the sight of Red's naked back.

"Isn't this…kinda awkward?" Purple asks. Red ignores them.

With nowhere else to put their hands, Purple can only wind them stiffly around Red's midsection. "Is this alright?" Again, they are ignored.

The moment passes. Red's breathing gradually evens out, and Purple is about to ask whether or not they've fallen asleep when Red abruptly speaks first.

"Do you, uh, get them too?"

"Get what too?" Purple asks, puzzled.

"The…bad dreams."

The air grows tense, heavy. Purple considers answering honestly, that they don't, but it feels like the wrong thing to say. They don't want to upset Red.

They change the topic instead. "What was it about?"

"What was what about?"

"The…bad dream."

"Oh," says Red. Their voice cracks.

"You don't have to tell me, obviously," Purple rushes to clarify, worried they've unintentionally stepped on a landmine. "I was curious, is all." They taste the words, find them horrendous, and try again. "'Cause you talk a lot. In your sleep, I mean."

Damn it. Purple wants to smack themself. They've never been good at the whole 'talking about feelings' thing, and especially not with someone who elicits as many contradictory emotions inside them as Red does. Maybe if they were Cyan, or Blue, or Black, or anyone else, it would be different. But it isn't. It's just them, and Red, and a painfully empty ship.

"I see them."

"See who?" Purple asks, regretting it the second the words leave their mouth. Their face pales in realization. "Oh. Them."

Something touches their hand. Purple lifts their head and sees it's Red, playing with their fingers. They don't tell them to stop.

"It's so…vivid," Red explains, rubbing their thumb along the center of Purple's palm. "Like I'm seeing them again for the first time. Their insides, the blood, the gore… I can smell it, too, and it doesn't smell good at all, I'll have you know."

"Fair enough," Purple says. "Dead bodies tend to smell bad."

"But, even though they're dead, they're…talking. I can hear them, whispering…to me."

"What are they saying?"

Red swallows. "They're saying it's my fault. I'm the reason they died. I'm a terrible captain. And it's true, I know that, but it…" They sigh. They squeeze Purple's hands as if clutching a lifeline. "I dunno. It feels bad, I guess."

"Of course it does." Purple presses closer, their bodies nearly touching now. "I mean…that's kinda what nightmares do. They make you feel like shit."

To their immense relief, Red manages a laugh. "That's true."

They fall silent. Purple listens to the heart monitor, finding its speed slow as a turtlemate compared to the heavy thumping in their chest.

Eventually, Red says, "Sometimes I think I should've died instead."

Something inside Purple snaps, withers. They cycle through a multitude of canned responses in their head, wanting to say the right thing, to somehow ease the worries that are clearly haunting Red enough to the point that they've wound up like this. Helpless. It's a completely new side to Red, one Purple has never seen before.

They don't like it.

"Don't…" Purple stops, processes, restarts. Their voice quivers, though they're unable to decipher whether it's due to anger, sadness, or a mix of both. "Don't say stupid shit like that."

"I'm sorry," Red immediately says.

"You should be." Purple inhales, trying to gather their bearings. "If you ever say that again, I'll…I'll kill you myself. And it won't be quick. It'll be real slow. Painful."

"Okay," Red says. Purple almost hears a smile, there.

"I'm being serious," they deadpan.

"I believe you."

"Good. Because I really am serious. Super serious."

"I'll keep that in mind." Red goes quiet, then adds, "Thanks, Purps."

Purple's visor shuts, and they allow them to savor, just for the moment, the sensation of Red's skin beneath their fingertips, firm and warm and alive, a contradiction to the coldness of the medical bay and its lifeless machines, and to the Skeld itself as it noisily tumbles through space.

This isn't so bad, they think.

They aren't sure who falls asleep first, but Red beats them to waking later, having turned over to watch Purple as they stir into wakefulness.

"Hi," Purple says.

"Hello," Red replies. "Do you, um, mind not getting up? I wanna stay like this a while longer."

"Fine. But only 'cause I'm still tired. Let me sleep some more."

"No problem, Purps."

Purple hums, lax, and lets Red play with their hands again. In their half-consious state, another thought occurs to them. "Ah. By the way, did you have any other nightmares?"

Red grins. "Nope."

"That's good." Purple yawns. "Then…I guess we can do this again. To help you, that is."