Broken

Wake Up

They glistened into existence by Calla's panakes tree, the pink, purple, and blue leaves shimmering as they fell gently into the soft grass around them.

Ro knelt at Keefe's side as Sophie crouched over him, tears rolling down her cheeks as she took in the bruise on his face, the scratches marking his arms, the rips in his tunic. Sandor rushed away, and Sophie hardly registered Mr. Forkle standing a few meters away. Hardly registered Sandor forcing him to wait where he was while she looked down at the broken face in front of her. The face of a boy she loved, and couldn't stand to see hurt.

Keefe, she transmitted, her mental voice the image of desperation and sorrow and fear. Keefe, wake up. We need you. I need you. His mind felt like sludge, the sedatives a shroud of muck blocking her out. Her panic rose as his eyes stayed shut, not even the smallest flutter.

Keefe, come on. Wake up.

KEEFE.

KEEFE!!!

No response.

Sophie hunched over her friend, tears now a constant gush that leaked over her cheeks, her chin, onto his shirt. She clutched one of his hands, pressing it to her heart as she leaned her forehead against his chest. Her face was the image of concern, sobs now audible as her worry for Keefe escalated.

But she would wait if he needed time to heal. For him, she'd wait.

I love you. Take your time to heal, but if you can hear me just come back, okay? I...I can't lose you.

She let loose a shaky breath, ready to give in and take him inside, get him to a healer.

And then his grip on her hand squeezed back against her own. She shot straight up, inhaling sharply.

Ice. Her eyes were met by ones of pure ice. But for all that ice, the warmth behind them was unfathomable.

His eyes were just as watery as hers, his features still a mess, but he offered her a small smile. She knew it would have been a smirk had he had the energy for it. As she smiled back, he said, "Miss me, Foster?"

She laughed in disbelief and relief and pure joy, even as her ears registered the strain in his voice, the coarse disuse of it. She leaned forward, practically on top of his chest as she wrapped her arms around his neck and buried her face into his shoulder.

"More than you could ever know."

***

He wasn't ready to leave the warmth of the dark. No, this place had become a haven compared to the nightmare that he kept waking up to. He couldn't face his mother again, couldn't withstand the pain she kept inflicting, both mentally and physically.

Distantly he heard a familiar, soft voice. His consciousness naturally arose, trying to follow the sound on instinct. He shoved back, forcing his mind to stay dormant, to remain in this safe haven.

Keefe! came the call, this time distinct enough that he could pick his name out from the quiet mumbles of the voice.

He stayed where he was.

But the next time he heard the voice, he couldn't block it out. Found himself glad that he couldn't as it said, I love you. Take your time to heal, but if you can hear me just come back, okay? I...I can't lose you.

Sophie. Heavens, that was Sophie!

He needed to wake up. Needed to forget about this perceived haven and return to his real haven, his real home. The one person who had never given up on him. Reality was harsh, but she was the reason he faced it. The reason he kept fighting.

Shoving against the murk of his mind, he fought to lift his heavy eyelids. Mustering all of his strength, he forced them open.

There she was, forehead pressed against his chest as tears streamed down her flushed cheeks. Her hair lay splayed around her face and across his stomach (who are we kidding, his rock-hard abs), and he found himself tearing up at the love he felt for this beautiful girl in front of him, the love he felt from her.

He felt his hand crushed in a tight grip, pressed firmly against her chest as she sobbed. He was the reason she was crying - he had to fix this.

Once again mustering his strength, he squeezed her hand back. Just once, but once was enough. She shot up with a gasp, her eyes meeting his.

He felt the instant relief she felt, how happy she was. It was enough to melt his heart, enough to make him want to stay in this moment forever, to sit up and crush her against his chest and never let go.

He tried for a smirk, cringing at how hoarse his voice was as he said, "Miss me, Foster?"

Her grim face turned into one of light, a grin spreading across her face. And as if she had read his very mind (which she very well may have been doing...), she leaned in and wrapped her arms around his neck, burying her face in his shoulder as she said, "More than you could ever know." She was practically on top of him, and he knew he should put some distance between them for the sake of Fitz. But his arms wrapped around her waist of their own accord, and he found himself willing to forget all about Fitz as he sucked in the moment, basked in the joy he felt radiating from Sophie. The love.

He was in heaven. He had just escaped his nightmare and emerged into a literal dream.

She sat up, and despite his protesting muscles he forced himself to do the same (those rock-hard abs helped). Gently, he reached out and cupped her cheek in his hand, brushing away the remnants of her tears with his thumb. She was already flushed, but he chuckled at the darker shade of red that her face turned. As an empath, he could feel the little flip her heart did. It caused his own heart to flip in turn.

Her face turned grim once again, however, as she quietly asked, "Are you okay?" His hand dropped from her face into his lap, but she reached out and grabbed it, holding it between her hands as he responded. He was grateful for the support.

He thought about lying, but knew that she would catch him on it. "Not really. But you've been through worse, so I'm sure I can handle this on my own. I just...I need some time to get over it I guess."

"Keefe, don't undermine what you're going through. I don't think I'd have the strength to do it, and I admire your courage through it all. But don't forget that we're all here for you. I'm here for you, whatever you need, whenever you need."

His eyes were leaking again at her soft tone; her genuine, warm look. Now it was her turn to reach up and brush away his tears. Her thumb paused on the bruise that spread across his cheek, and a dark look flickered over her face at the mark, at the slight wince he couldn't hold back at the pain it caused.

"Sorry," she said, yanking her hand away like his face was on fire.

"Don't be," he said, meeting her concerned gaze.

They were silent for a moment, her cheeks turning pink once again before they heard someone clear their throat in the background. Sophie's face fell as she looked over his shoulder.

"Are you going to let me through, now?" Mr. Forkle's voice was reprimanding, his glare sharp as he looked up at Sandor. The goblin stepped aside and let him approach the kids.

"Mr. Sencen, I'm glad you're back. You should go inside and get some rest."

Keefe struggled to stand, his knees trying to buckle from beneath him. "I should help him find the guest room," Sophie said, and Keefe knew that helping him was only half of her reason for the escape attempt. Forkle must not have approved of the rescue.

"Not so fast, Miss Foster. He's been here before, I'm sure he knows his way around. Sandor can go with him if need be. Besides, we need to talk."