Work Text:
He woke up suddenly, sitting up on the bed before he even moved consciously. Images from a dream – from memories? – still blurred his vision, making the room unrecognisable until his awareness fully returned.
Breathing in and out, sounds of the home interwoven with his internal ventilators' slowly grounded him in reality.
Home. Dad. Sector 33. Mini hurt.
He felt both weary and restless, not unlike before fight. He needed to move. Having a drink of energy could be a good thing.
He slid to the edge of the bed, putting his feet on the floor, hands clutching the mattress.
It felt soft like moss, a thought surfaced. He looked down. Just his bed, nothing different about it.
He stood up and walked through the door into the corridor, not bothering with slippers.
The steps echoed though the house, sounding like heavy steps on hard ground or on metal scraps.
He yawned and cringed suddenly as rumbling and distant shouts erupted in his ears.
Shouts?
He stopped and listened for a moment. Nothing. Only slight buzzing, signalling that dad was in his laboratory, disturbed the night silence.
He resumed his walk and entered the living room.
Out of the corner of his eye he saw a partially destroyed abatis.
He rubbed his eyes and looked again. The sofa stood in the middle of the living room, Rush's toy on the ground next to it.
He felt a pang of anxiety. Quickening the pace, he approached the kitchenette and opened the cupboard with e-tanks.
He took one, closed the cupboard and shifted to open the can above the sink, feeling his hands unsteady.
He pulled on the tab, tightening his grip.
Metal twisted under his fingers. The steel gave in under their pressure, crushing, mangling and tearing open cables and hydraulic hoses underneath with a loud crack.
Odour of burning circuits, a splash of hydraulic fluids, a distorted electronic scream and fading light in wide optical sensors…
Sensation of wetness on his fingers suddenly brought him back to the present.
In his clenched fist was a crushed E-tank can. A remnant of viscous liquid covered his skin and slowly dripped into the sink.
He gradually rotated his hand looking on the can, his mind devoid of memories but the silence ringing with panic and confusion and fear. He put the can gently in the sink and took a step back.
He gripped his head, grinding his teeth to not scream. Abruptly, he let go and leaned against the kitchen counter top, his head down.
Aki shot a glance at the crushed can.
He had to talk to dad now.