Notes: Way late in posting this! A ficlet for a tumblr prompter (Meg!) requesting some Laurent/Lucina(/Gerome, maybe). I've borrowed their insomnia/nightmare headcanon for Laurent.

Also I like genderfluid Lucina so I switched the pronouns from she/her (the original tumblr post) to they/them.

Mirage

The ink blurred and the lines wavered under Laurent's gaze, cream parchment and black lettering blending to grey.

They're real, freshwaterfall hair and oasis eyes, not the shimmering air he couldn't get close enough to touch, no, Lucina's footsteps make little sounds and the sand shifts beneath them and Laurent is collapsing, clambering to clutch their warm leather boot.

"Laurent–?!"

Their little hands are firm and strong as they wrap and pull him to his feet and then he's feeling their face, sobbing into their neck and wasting precious moisture- tears, snot, spit; it hardly matters because they're stroking his hair and demanding:

"Laurent, what is it? What's wrong?"

His first human voice in years.

He could still feel it in his ear canal as the page swam before him, hazy as the desert air. Lucina looked unchanged that day. It had only been a little while that they were separated, for them. Tired as he was, Laurent was no longer sure if their reunion had actually happened. He clutched at the table and tried to focus his eyes on the canvas around him.

This wasn't another of the desert's tricks, was it, not another false pool in the distance? Was his tent real? The camp? His loved ones? It wasn't another horrible nightmare that would melt until he woke and melt until he woke again, incepting itself layers deep until even when fully awake, he couldn't quite believe it?

Heart in his throat, Laurent rose from his desk and hurried for the entrance. He couldn't sleep again. He couldn't endure it. Some night air would refresh him and then he'd return to his studies and–

He ran into a very solid chest.

"Gerome, please," he mumbled, unsure if it was even Gerome he spoke to. Strong arms forced him a step back, into the tent.

"You're sleeping."

"I can't." The panic broke instantly and he was struggling to get away, to break free of the swaths of black holding him stationary. "I can't, it's futile, you can't comprehend, I need to–"

"Don't make me get Lucina."

"Lucina is already here," a new voice said, and Laurent froze as their lithe little form pushed their way into his tent too.

"Please," he begged. He tried to rearrange his face into something calm and collected. "I merely wanted to take a walk. It's a splendid night. You know it's my habit."

"I know," Lucina said, "that you've barely slept in a week."

"It's fine. I'm in perfectly adequate condition."

"You're losing it, Laurent," said Gerome, and dimly Laurent realized that he was still holding him fast. His muscles didn't relax so much as they gave up on him.

"How did you even know?"

"Your candle is burning at all hours," Lucina answered. They reached up, over Gerome's arm, to remove his hat and brush back his hair. His eyes closed at their touch. Cool as water. Cool as their hands were that night, after they'd found him, when he couldn't stop grasping at them and so they'd let him continue for hours. His captain. His Exalt.

"My sincerest apologies," he said hoarsely. "I never meant for you to realize it. I'm just adding to your troubles. I simply wanted–"

"Laurent."

Lucina's voice wasn't naturally soothing. They weren't a parent or a lover or a comforter, not in any way. But the authority it held calmed him more than even the night air coming in through the doorway or the way Gerome held him.

"It's the nightmares," he admitted in a whisper. "I can't bear them any longer. Nothing is worth it."

"We'll find you a draught," said Gerome. "Brady must know something."

"Brady is exhausted," he argued. "Don't drag him into this too. Please."

"I know," said Lucina. "Gerome?"

They didn't even have to tell him what they wanted. Gerome scooped Laurent right up, tall as he was, and dumped him on his cot. He was so dizzy from all the changes in position that he couldn't even register Lucina pulling off their cape and boots and belt, let alone gawk. A quirked eyebrow over Gerome's mask, a shake of the head from Lucina, and Gerome was gone and Lucina was crawling under the blanket with him, curling up next to him, and Laurent was quite sure he was hallucinating now.

"I'm still in the desert," he said shakily. Lucina touched his face and shook their head again.

"No. You're right here with us, and it isn't going to change."

"My nightmares."

"I'll fight them."

Laurent couldn't fight any longer, not the way his eyes blurred and his breath burned in his lungs. He sank under, drowned in it.