Chapter Text
The alarm blared in his ears as the seat seemed to weigh on him with a weight far greater than a simple chair should. The force of the Astrophage leaving the jettisoned fuel tank breaking the restraints, and forcing him against the monitor. He felt as sleep pulled at him, unforgiving in its endeavors, he reached his hand to the screen again. The amount of effort that he was using to do such a seemingly simple task was absurd, he pushed himself to stay awake long enough, the sound of Rocky tumbling in his interior the only sound able to be heard past the alarms. I must do this for him. His hand fell as he couldn't get it high enough to hit the switch, the banging of his head against the computer screens mixed with the centripetal force causing to briefly lose consciousness.
The pain in his head, and back from the seat seemed to lessen, and switch to a burning sensation on his arm, as he felt as if he was pulled from where he was, the sensation distant but there. He could barely blink in resignation as he was moved, briefly hearing the singing voice of Rocky distantly behind the fog in his head. He wasn't sure when he had blacked out completely, somewhere between being pulled from the seat, and when he was taken to Armando, but he knew the sensation of familiarity in the sensation of being dragged from danger, bruised and bleeding. The memory is further back than any he had previously known.
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The day had been just like any other day, the rain coming down outside bringing with it the smell of fresh dirt as he and Colt had headed home from school. They had been having a rough week, between the bullies that never left Colt alone, and Ryland's inability to hold friends, they had been relying on each other, but with separated classes they couldn't do that as much anymore. They had both known when they had approached the house that it was going to be a rough night, the door sitting open at an odd angle.
Their father had returned home drunk again, and in his stupor had left the door wide open. The two had decided to creep inside, and go upstairs as quietly as possible, though their plans didn't go as planned. Before they could make it five feet into the door, their father had grabbed Colt's arm, throwing him to the floor across the room. Ryland had reached by instinct to help Colt, and had reached out to stop their father, which had resulted in a slap to the face, and a kick to the gut.
The night had been long, and Ryland for his part doesn't remember most of it, not because of the coma, but more as he had blacked out, and blocked the memories. The next thing he knew he was in a hospital bed, remembering the first hits, and being dragged away from the man by Colt, hearing his older brother's voice in the background. Colt had been at his side, and at that point onwards, till long after high school, he refused to leave his side for more than a few hours.