chronometer

reassemble

A/N: it's been a while. missed you guys. sorry this took so long, i always have the most trouble writing down time. enjoy some nice fluff and serenity (for now)! a bit shorter but certainly there's quality to it.

song: safe and sound - taylor swift (cover by tiffany alvord/megan nicole)

If it weren't for Avi's gifted father, Mitch's recovery would have been slow and painful. More painful. The first night was rough. He had to realign the bones in his nose and my heart crumbled into a million pieces after each groan of pain, each whimper, every yelp. The following two weeks weren't unbearable, but at the very least they were progress. He explained to me that it all had been worth it. I regretfully agree. If it weren't for Mitch's ability to use my temper to our advantage, we both would have died. For once we both felt a little victorious in our efforts.

It's all over the news now-- the redistribution of time. Arlington's average time has gone up almost 150% in the past week, and it's fuel to Mitch and I's fire for hope. I had watched it dwindle slightly in our struggle, choking and sputtering beneath the hazards of obstacles. It nearly turned to just a plume of lifeless smoke, smothered under agony. It begged, pleaded for oxygen to remain steady. The light clawed for life inside us, its flicker inconsistent with fear. Mitch nursed it in his hands, breathing oxygen into the flame until it roared valiantly with a new life.

Michael Grassi is actively looking for us, and police have warrants. We're grade A criminals, but if there was a world where morals would be put into question, we'd both know who the real criminals are. Mitch understands now that he has to put his concerns behind him. We are going to be doing "wrong" no matter what we do, but someone has to do it. It's a constant mental struggle that haunts us to our very core, but we've slowly become immune to the self-deprecating thoughts in favor of remembering our strength in casting them aside.

It is midday, and Mitch is completely weightless lying on top of me while he rests in my arms. He's been particularly attached since leaving the warehouse. From what I understand, he's become more in tune with the importance of our bond and how much we rely on each other. He becomes uneasy if I'm ever gone for too long or if I mention going outside at all. I'm afraid being kidnapped has mentally horrified him, and I don't blame him in the slightest. Now that I'm able to track the language of his actions much better than I used to, I can tell how he feels. He prefers being nearby or touching. It is a relief that he does, because I do as well. I doubt I'll ever be able to let him from my sight for a while.

My hand runs across the dark hair on his head, lightly feathering over the brunette locks. In his sleep, he sighs in content and I can't help the gentle smile that rolls over my face. He appears to be the most peaceful while sleeping, and I wish it could be this way in reality as well. The white bandaging on his nose contrasts like a shockwave of white over milky skin, and I remind myself that soon it will be gone and out of mind. I glance over at his arm resting across my shoulder, watching the green shuffle of digits on his skin. I truly hope he will never have to bear the concern of watching them fade away when he stills needs them.

--

I wake sometime later to Mitch shifting his weight on me and I realize that I had also fallen asleep. He breathes small, short puffs of air against my chest, lulled by the rhythmic beats his head is laying against. Avi is in the other room cooking-- I can tell by the aroma traveling from the kitchen. I refocus my attention on the boy before me, reaching over to rub circles in his tense shoulders. He relaxes into the touch, nuzzling his cheek into my wrist. I'm concerned about disturbing his sleep, but I check the clock and  it's been a few hours. He'd be waking soon anyways.

Not a beat passes and his eyes are fluttering open, coffee irises finding their way up to my face and drinking in the sight with no drop left to be wasted. He gives me a tired smile and presses his head into my chest, and I lean mine down to kiss the crown of his skull. I linger there for a moment, allowing the seconds to pass at my leisure before leaning back and brushing my hand across his bangs again.