Trials, Traits and Truth

Reeling and Dealing

Aftermath of a panic attack at the start. Mentions of vomiting and blood.

Thomas woke up, feeling as if he was falling off a skyscraper. He gasped, trying in vain to draw breath.

"He-Help" he managed to cough out, before bursting into tears and violently starting to shake.

Logan popped up almost immediately, with a wet flannel and a bucket at the ready.

~

It took hours to completely calm both Thomas and Virgil down. They were both exhausted from the ordeal of the attack.

Logan eventually coaxed Thomas into some day clothes, and sat him on the couch. He even got him halfheartedly watching Steven Universe. Logan sat on the couch with him, and didn't like how pale Thomas looked.

"I think you might need to get some help, Thomas." Logan broached cautiously, not wanting to set the poor boy off again.

"I don't really want to bother Joan or Talyn..." Thomas avoided Logan's eye and shifted uncomfortably.

"They are not who I was referring too, though I am positive that both of them would be more than happy to aid you." Logan pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose.

He was so tired. And if there was one thing he knew for sure: he needed reinforcements.

~

Tristan felt like he did when he had first splintered off from Patton: lifeless, baseless, lost in a sleepy haze.

He was lying on...it felt so soft, and he frowned, knowing that it didn't feel like there was anything solid beneath him. He opened his eyes to squint, and saw that he was lying on a literal cushion of darkness. That probably should have concerned him, but he had to admit he was very comfortable. He stretched out a little and looked around: there was only darkness.

Patton noticed this movement and looked over, relieved that his counterpart was finally awake.

"What are you doing to him?" He whispered, his voice hoarse. He had long since concluded that Tristan couldn't hear him, and he suspected he wouldn't be able to see him either. He had tried for a long time to attempt to wake him: yelling, screaming, and even singing, until his throat at ached too much for him to go on. Patton was forced instead to lapse into silence, and finally pay attention to the livestream that Pitch had oh-so-kindly set up for him.

Pitch had conjured a mirror, and Patton had made a half-hearted joke about him being the evil queen and carving out Thomas' heart. Pitch had instead conjured the image of the mindscape living room.

"Just so you can keep an eye on your boy." Pitch had winked.

Patton forgot about his raw throat and nearly dead voice: he had yelled and screamed and pulled on his chains, and had even tried to simply annoy Pitch into defeat with puns and dad-jokes. Anything to cover up the noise of Virgil crying and vomiting.

Patton had only really fallen silent again the awful moment he saw Virgil starting to cough up blood.

"Nothing." Pitch now spoke. "He's in an insulation cube of energy - what the subject generates simple manifests a little more."

Patton wasn't sure if he completely understood, but seemed to get the basics. He frowned. Patton hadn't really had the chance to get to know Tristan, but he had seemed like a positive guy, so maybe if he wasn't feeling too negative, the atmosphere in his cube wouldn't be so bad?

Patton shuddered and blinked away the sudden image of Virgil being trapped in one of those things.

Pitch's smile grew wider.

"How about, I make you a deal?" Pitch conjured a chair behind Patton and used the darkness around his captive to push him down into it. Pitch drew up his own chair and sat, barely two feet away.

"I can't see me being able to deal with the outcome." Patton danced around the word 'no' - his face still stung from the power slap he'd received earlier.

There was a flicker of annoyance in his captor's eyes, but it was quickly replaced with an unreadable expression.

"I'll let both of you go, if you take Virgil to the back of the mind."

Patton shifted uncomfortably. Pitch didn't drop his gaze or blink once.

"I don't think that's in his best interests..."

"If I'm being honest with you," Pitch interrupted, tone sincere. "Poor Virgil can't have much time left. And there's some pretty big things to come for Thomas, videos, auditions and the like...you wouldn't want him to fade would you?"

Patton closed his eyes. Right and Wrong. It was supposed to be his signature: his forte.

Thomas needed to be on guard...

But, if Virgil died...he'd never be on guard again...

Patton let out a noise of frustration. This was his job - literally - he was actually doing his job and not trying to do Virgil's job for once and he still couldn't get it right.

But...he had definitely got some form of a warning out to Virgil...

Stall.

"Can I please have time to think about it?" It couldn't be a worse call than either of his given options.

Pitch narrowed his eyes. "You have twelve hours to decide Patton." He clicked his fingers, then disappeared with his chair. Patton gaped in shock: both the chair he was sitting on, and his chains and shackles, dissipated into the larger darkness, his seat lowering him carefully onto the ground. Patton rubbed his aching wrists, and stretched out...

Only for his hand to hit an invisible barrier.

Huh. Looks like he was getting what Tristan had been served.

"Okay Patton." The Father figure whispered, curling into himself and laying down. "Think happy thoughts."

~

Tristan looked up, feeling light headed and blissful. Pitch sat in front of him, barely a foot away, cross-legged and casual, looking intensely bored.

Tristan stretched out, almost cat-like, and sat up. He felt quite calm, and secure. They were the only discernible figures in a room of thick shadows.

"Thomas needs you." Pitch spoke, cocking his head and talking seriously. "He's ignoring you already. He already ignored the truth enough for it to literally split off - "

"Why do you care?" Tristan was more curious than confrontational, but folded his arms.

"I'm Reality - "

Tristan scoffed and rolled his eyes. "You're not a side - "

"But I should be." Pitch's tone was suddenly dangerously low. "I want to help you, Tristan. It's unhealthy to be so resolutely in denial all the time."

Tristan frowned, looking a little dreamy.

Pitch clapped his hands and straightened up a little, now giving a smirk.

"How about, I make you a deal?"