Chapter Text
Chris’s jaw clenched, the sharpness of his anxiety slicing through him as his breath hitched in shallow bursts. The stunned bewilderment in his eyes morphed into a seething, all-consuming fury. He could feel his heart thundering in his chest, each beat echoing a primal refusal to retreat. Digging his heels into the trembling floorboards, he glared defiantly at the fracture’s blinding, terrifying light that felt alive, as if it were mocking him.
He squeezed his eyes shut, a desperate whisper of a prayer escaping his lips, begging for the nightmare to end. But when he dared to open them again, the crescent-shaped door loomed before him, eerily still, an impossible reality that sent chills down his spine. Panic ignited inside him, causing his tail to twitch instinctively, and his breath turned jagged, a frantic melody that danced dangerously close to hyperventilation. Every muscle in his body clenched tight, each nerve screaming for him to move, but he was transfixed, a prey caught in the gaze of an unrelenting predator.
Suddenly, a shadowy hand broke free from the blinding chasm, emerging with an agonizing slowness that filled his chest with dread. It stretched towards him, an inevitable menace that sparked a raw terror in his core. A strangled yelp tore from his throat as the inky fingers coiled around his tail, cold and unyielding, dragging him from his moment of defiance. He screamed, the sound echoing through the vast expanse of encroaching darkness, as the room melted into a swirling tempest of purple starfire.
Skulls—his deceased family, their faces twisted in eternal grief—floated around him, their hollow eyes burning with the memories of loss, guilt, and fear. The silence screamed at him, the weight of their unblinking stares pressing down like an unbearable burden. He felt a bone-deep chill as King’s skull, covered in Titans' blood, descended upon him, settling on his head with an unsettling finality, pooling gallons of cerulean blood on his hands. Numb fingers traced the jagged edges, each sharp point a reminder of what he had lost. Panic clawed at his throat, tightening like a vice, as he gasped for air, his chest constricting with the weight of sorrow and despair—until—
A hand touched his shoulder. Chris jolted at the contact, and the vision shattered. The flames flickered out, and the skulls vanished. King stood before him, steady and real, holding up four fingers.
King’s voice cut gently through the lingering panic, steady and calm. He kept his hand in front of Chris, fingers spread, grounding him in the here and now. “Calm down, calm down, breathe… You’re safe, Chris. It’s just us here.”
Chris stared at King’s hand, matching his own shaky breaths to the slow rise and fall of King’s chest. The memory of the nightmare still flickered in his mind, but King’s presence—his warmth, his quiet strength—began to anchor him.
King squeezed Chris’s shoulder reassuringly. “You’re not alone. Whatever that was, it’s gone. Just keep breathing with me… In, and out. That’s it.”
As Chris followed his instructions, he could see the tension in Chris's body. He watched his brother take a deep, shaky breath, and King gently placed his prosthetic claw on Chris's shoulder, counting softly from one to four, then back to one, repeating the process to help ease his nerves.
"K-King?" Chris whispered, his voice barely escaping as he crawled toward him, panic evident in his eyes. But as he moved, his furry knees buckled, and he fell to the ground. "What are you doing here?" He asked, his voice trembling with confusion and a deep sense of vulnerability.
King quickly knelt beside Chris, catching him with a gentle hand before he could fully hit the floor. With a soft and reassuring tone, he spoke, wrapping Chris in a sense of safety—a steady anchor amid the overwhelming storm of fear.
“I’m right here, Chris,” King said, wrapping an arm around his shoulders and helping him sit up. “You looked like you needed someone. I wasn’t going to leave you alone with all that.” He offered a small, crooked smile, eyes full of quiet concern.
King brushed a tuft of fur away from Chris’s face, grounding him with his touch. “What happened? I heard you calling out. I just wanted to make sure you were okay.”
"I...I'm not really sure. It was probably just a bad--" He paused, glancing at the crescent slit that was still visible. "--" Letting out a sigh, he slowly stood back up with King's supportive hand guiding him.
King kept a steady grip on Chris’s arm, guiding him gently to his feet. He glanced in the direction of Chris’s gaze, noticing the way Chris’s eyes lingered on the crescent slit, uncertainty flickering in his expression.
“It felt real, didn’t it?” King asked quietly, not pushing, just offering understanding.
Chris nodded, rubbing his arms as the chill of the vision lingered. “Yeah… probably just a bad dream,” he whispered, voice unsteady but grateful for King’s support.
King squeezed his shoulder. “You’re safe now. Whatever it was, it can’t get to you here.” He offered a reassuring smile, trying to bring Chris back to the room's warmth and reality. “Let’s stick together for a while, okay?”
Chris's eyes widened as he waved his claws. "No, no, no! What about Cas? I don't want to be in the way; I've already caused too much trouble."
King shook his head gently, his expression warm and firm. “Chris, you’re not in the way. Cas would say the same thing. We’re a family, remember? None of us is ever too much trouble.”
He reached out and placed a reassuring paw on Chris’s shoulder. “You don’t have to handle this by yourself. If you need us, we’re here—me, Cas, and everyone else. You matter, Chris. You always have.”
King’s voice softened, his gaze steady. “You’re not a burden. You’re part of this, and we want you here. Cas will understand. I promise.”
Chris wrapped his arms around himself for a moment, lowering his tail. "I really hope you’re right about this. You’re such a wonderful little brother, King." He sniffled and wiped away a tear. "I don’t feel like I deserve you, but getting some time away from this room does sound like a good idea. That crack really gives me the creeps."
King’s eyes softened, a gentle smile tugging at his lips. He stepped closer and wrapped Chris in a warm, reassuring hug, his tail curling protectively around them both.
“You deserve all of us, Chris,” King said quietly, holding him tight. “And I’m glad I get to be your brother, even when things are scary. We’ll figure it out together—no matter what.”
He pulled back just enough to look Chris in the eye, his own gaze steady and kind. “Let’s get out of here for a bit. Fresh air—and maybe a snack—always helps me when I’m feeling creeped out. And I promise, you won’t have to face any cracks on your own.”
With that, King gave Chris a gentle nudge toward the door, ready to face whatever came next, together.
Chris took a deep breath as he approached the door of the Defi-Hoot, feeling a sense of relief as it slid open with a gentle hoot. Once outside, he felt the weight of the world lift slightly when he turned to hug King. “Thanks, King. I really appreciate it. It’s been tough up here, trying to keep everything together.” He looked at his brother, concern etched across his face. “How are you managing to stay so calm? Our friends are missing, Bonesborough is in chaos, and here we are in space! I would have expected you to be the one worried out of your mind, and I’d be trying to distract you with games or something.” Chris chuckled softly, trying to lighten the mood, but the worry was still evident in his voice.
King blinked in surprise as Chris hugged him, but quickly wrapped his arms around his brother and squeezed back, letting the warmth linger for a moment. When Chris pulled away, King offered a crooked, gentle smile—a spark of old mischief in his eyes, but tempered by something steadier, deeper.
“Honestly?” King said, rubbing the back of his neck, “I’m not always calm. My heart’s going a mile a minute half the time. But…” He glanced at the corridor, at the ship humming quietly beneath their feet, at the stars glittering outside. “I guess I just realized… if I fall apart, it doesn’t fix anything. I used to think I had to be loud, or perfect, or in control. Now I just try to breathe, hang on to the good stuff, and help you do the same.”
He nudged Chris with his elbow, grinning softly. “And hey, if you ever want to talk about a game, I’m still up for it. Or if you want to just… freak out together, that’s fine too. We don’t have to be brave all the time. We just have to keep showing up, even when it’s rough.”
"Keep showing up, even when it's tough," Chris said softly. He couldn't shake the feeling that he was to blame for the invasion that had taken so many lives. Yet, through all the chaos, his brother stood firm by his side, unwavering in his support. It didn't matter to him whether he was seen as a spy, a drone, or a Collector; at the core of it all, he would always be his brother. Despite the world crumbling around them, his siblings and other Archivists hating their existence and the unsettling reality of lives reduced to mere data, their bond was a source of strength. He might feel like a lost kid, isolated in the middle of a cosmic warzone, but all they truly needed was each other.
A single tear ran down Chris's skull. "You're right, and I'll try to keep showing up. We may have lost everything for now, but we still have each other."
King reached up and gently brushed the tear away, his own eyes shining with quiet pride. “That’s all we need, Chris. As long as we have each other, we can get through anything—even frozen apocalypses and space.”
He pulled Chris in for one more quick, comforting hug. “We’ll figure this out together. I promise. No matter how weird or scary it gets.”
King offered a small, hopeful smile, the weight of their losses softened just a little by the strength of their bond. “We’re family. That’s something they can never take from us.”