Chapter Text
Hands.
There were hands on him.
Someone was pressing their hand against his chest, before pressing against his neck. Oh they were checking if he was alive, looking for a pulse he assumed. At least he hoped. Seemingly confirming that he was alive, he felt the hands readjust him, before wrapping underneath his arms to lift. Panic rushed through him almost immediately, he was being dragged, somewhere. Presumably to his death. He cried out, a wave of pain shooting through him as he tried to pull away. It hurts. It hurts. It hurts. The hands gripped onto him tighter, even as he struggled against them. His body responded sluggishly. Every shift felt like moving a mountain. Fuck, was he drugged? Is that why his body wasn’t responding correctly? He took in a sharp breath, before leaning his head forward and snapping it back. A sickening crunch could be heard, before a cry of pain hit his ears. He felt the grip falter before dropping him. He hit the floor and white hot pain flashing through him, before dulling to a constant throb.
His head had connected with this person’s nose. A sick sense of satisfaction ran through him. At least he wasn’t going to die without a fight. He needed to move now. He tried to drag himself to his feet, but it was at this moment he realized that his body was starting to fail him. He could only move the hand on his right arm. He couldn’t feel his left arm at all. He whined in annoyance when he felt hands on him again. They wrapped around him once again and started to drag. Looks like his attempt to escape didn’t go so well… His body sagged in acceptance. He was going to die. He felt his body shift, like he was being picked up, before being placed gently down on a bed…? What was going on? He should be- They should be killing him right now. Why was he in a bed? He should be in a cell or something or- Before he could ask, he felt a sharp prick against his arm and his mind was lost to the stars.
---
Simon felt his mind slowly drift back to consciousness. His dream long forgotten and replaced by pain that radiated through him with each breath. He tried to pry his eyes open so he could get a sense of his surroundings, but panic coursed through him when he realized that he couldn’t. Something disgusting and sticky was holding them closed. Actually, he could feel it all over his body. A sick wave of realization hit him. He was covered in blood. His stomach lurched and he turned to the side and vomited. He gagged as the bile hit his throat causing him to retch further. Fast footsteps hit his ears, but he ignored them in favor of vomiting some more. Hands were touching him again. He flinched at the first contact, expecting anything but gentleness, but that was all that was given. His hair was pulled out of his face and a hand rubbed soothing circles into his back. Eventually, he was reduced to dry heaving. There was nothing left in his stomach to give. Slowly, his body gave out and he collapsed into the side of the person supporting him.
“Are you okay?”
His voice was soft, angelic even, with concern lacing through every note. Simon could feel himself relaxing into the man's presence. He knows he shouldn’t. He knows that this man is going to kill him, but… he was so gentle. He could at least attempt to dignify the man with a response.
“I-”
A pain whimper was all that could escape him, before he dissolved into a coughing fit. His throat was on fire. He curled in on himself, trying to ease some of the pressure off his lungs as he dragged in gasps. He couldn’t process the words being said to him, but something was pressed against his lip, and he took the opportunity to drink. Cold water hit his throat, soothing the ache that was there. He chugged as much as he could and let out a pathetic whine as it was dragged away from him.
“I’m not taking it. Just slow down. It’s okay.”
A hand ran soothingly down his back, before he was offered the water once again. He finished it off slowly, before settling back down with a sigh. He was still partially leaning against this guy, but he was exhausted and didn’t feel like rolling over. He was probably going to die soon anyways. He could feel himself drifting off again. The drugs made him feel floaty.
“Can you stand?”
His mind was a haze, barely processing the question, before reality hit him. He didn’t expect to die like right now, but hey he would rather not wait. Steeling himself, he used his good arm to push himself up into a sitting position. He was panting with the effort. He felt a hand latch onto him, gently guiding him down off the bed. He attempted a step forward, but his knees immediately buckled. He tensed, expecting to hit the ground, but warm arms wrapped around him, catching him before he hit the floor. He gasped as another wave of pain shot through him.
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I’ll try to make this quick.”
Simon merely grunted in response. He deserved this. He knew he was going to die, but he didn’t have the energy to fight anymore. He leaned heavily against the man, and followed blindly. Each step was a promise of death. He was panting with exertion by the time he was allowed to rest again. He was lowered gently onto the ground -why was this guy always so gentle with him?- where he could lean back against a wall. He shivered pathetically, curling in on himself. He hoped that his death was quick, merciful even. He had done what they had asked. He got the black box. He had done it. He flinched when he felt hands on him again. He was dragged back up to his feet and he stumbled once again, leaning heavily against the man who kept mumbling soft apologies to him.
“Almost there. Almost there. Just be careful right here. Don’t want to bang your arm-”
Warm liquid hitting his face caused him to freeze. A wave of terror overtook him. He was rooted to this spot, latching onto the man. There was no way. Were they taking him back to the sub? He didn’t want to die. Not like this. What little energy he had vanished. His knees buckled and he sank to the floor, the man supporting him. A desperate sob escaped him as he tried to pull away. He needed to run. He needed to get out-
“Shh, it’s okay…”
He felt hands cupping his face, even as he tried to pull away. Another whine left him. He needed to leave. He needed to escape- A wet cloth gently dragged across his cheek. He could feel the sticky residue of blood being wiped away. The man hummed softly, pleased with himself and continued to wipe the blood away. The rag ran across his eyes, removing the offending substance keeping them closed. A soft groan escaped him. The immense relief of being able to open his eyes rushed through him.
“Yeah, bet that feels better, huh.”
Thumbs ran along the edges of his eyes rubbing off the rest of the crusted blood. The man cradled his face for a moment longer, fingers gently brushing against him, before pulling away. Hesitantly, his eyes opened to stare down his captor. His breath caught in his throat at the sight. The man standing in front of him was an angel. Water rolled off of him in small droves, glasses hung awkwardly on his face, but soft blue eyes locked onto his.
“There you are…”
The man cooed softly at him, before continuing his onslaught against his sins. He could feel the evidence of his imprisonment being washed away with each swipe of the cloth. He leaned forward, head resting against the man’s thigh, eyes closing once again as he melted into the touch. Hands started to run through his hair, gently coxing the areas matted in blood back to its normal form. Soft humming filled the air, before he felt himself drift off once again.
--
“Why have you left us to die, Simon?”
Simon’s eyes snapped open, eyes staring up at the walls of the submarine. It was a dream. Of course it was a dream. He wasn’t safe with some angel whose gentle touches broke his hardened walls. He was here on this fucking ship. Where he was going to die. And the eel of sin was talking to him. Leeching the very life he craved. He didn’t want to die. He let out a scream of frustration, punching his fist against the camera. The screen flashed. Nothing was out there. He grimaced. Of course, nothing was fucking out there. Time to hunt. Stumbling his way to the controls, he pushed the sub forward, ticking towards the last known coordinates of this damn monster. The moment he reached the destination. He marched toward the camera and pressed the button. Nothing.
Press. Flash…
Nothing…
Again. Nothing. Again and again and again. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing.
He cried out again, attempting to wretch his hand away from the button, but met resistance. He froze. Why couldn’t he move his hand away? Wait- Was that something in the distance? He was rooted to the spot, staring at the screen even as the bright flash of light blinded him each time. A small spot in the distance grew closer and closer. The skeleton had returned. He had found it. He could- He could… What was he doing again? He pressed the button again.
Press. Flash…
It was such a nice noise. He couldn’t help the slow grin that spread across his face as he stared down the skeleton in the photo. It was like there was a connection. He could feel it. This was- This was his destiny… His grin grew more, pulling against his cheeks until he felt them rip. His arm burned as the radiation started to change him for the better. He could be with them. He could join them in their fight.
“Simon.”
“Simon. We missed you. Join us. Join us.”
“We won’t hurt you. We won’t kill you like they will.”
“You can be free.”
“Just accept the blood. It will make us one. One is all. All is one.”
The words whispered in his mind, easing him to a sense of safety as the submarine filled with blood. The blood was alive and moved in time with his heart beat. It made him relax further. He was going to join them. Join them all in the Heavens above. He took a final breath, before submerging himself into the abyss. Memories rushed back to him. He remembered the warmth hitting his face for the first time. The gentle hands that had soothed the aches and worries. The angel that washed him of his sins. He didn’t want to die. He fought his way back to the surface, ignoring the way the blood tried to drag him back down. His body burned with effort, but he was determined to live. He wanted to live. He breached the surface, choking against the blood. He tried to drag in a breath. Panic rippled through him. He couldn’t breathe. There was too much blood in his throat. He tried to swallow, but it was just too thick. It was too much. He cried out, thrashing violently as he gagged on nothing. His vision blurred as something latched onto his arm. Sharp white pain ran through him, as something dragged him back underneath into the ocean of blood.
He succumbed to the darkness…
--
Simon's eyes snapped open, panic coursing through him. He needed to escape. He needed to leave. He couldn’t breathe. He choked against the tube down his throat and gagged helplessly. He grabbed onto it with his hand, trying to drag it out of him. It hurts. It hurts. It hurts.
“Hey hey hey. It’s okay. Let me help. Let me help.”
Another hand wrapped around the tube, while the other grabbed onto his, pulling it away from the tube. The tube was long and uncomfortable. It burned his throat. The pressure was overwhelming. Tears pricked at the corner of his eyes. His hand squeezed tightly against the blanket, digging into the soft bed to ground himself. With one final gag, the tube was removed from his throat. A sob of relief escaped him when he was able to drag oxygen into his lungs. He collapsed back down onto the bed. He dragged in ragged breaths, panic subsiding now that he could breathe.
“I’m sorry. That tube is never fun to deal with.”
A hand squeezed his own gently causing him to pry his eyes open. His eyes flitted down. The angel was still holding his hand. Their fingers were interlocked. His own hand shook as the remaining adrenaline tried to fade away. He realized that he hadn’t been squeezing the bed, but instead his angel's hand. His angel followed his gaze and… blushed?
“Oh my god. I am so sorry. You were just panicking and I didn’t want you to hurt yourself, so I gave you my hand to squeeze and-”
“Thank you.”
He couldn’t express his gratitude enough. He was saved. He had saved him from a most certain death. One in which he would suffer for eternity. The death by his hands would at least be peaceful. He could accept a peaceful death.
“I- It’s nothing really.”
His hand was released. He could feel his eyes start to close again. He was tired. The angel gave him a soft smile and dragged the blanket up to his shoulders once more. He burrowed into the warmth.
“Rest. You need it.”
Simon hummed in understanding, curling deeper into the warmth. He didn’t want to die, but this was a peaceful way to go. The angel pressed a hand against him again, squeezing his arm gently. His eyes fluttered open momentarily to glance up at him. Blue eyes stared down at him. They were filled with something akin to determination.
“I’m not going to let you die. I promise.”