Reading Inception before reading PTSD: Post Takeover by StrexCorp Disorder is strongly recommended but not required.

Trigger Warning: Severe Torture. Unless otherwise specified, Severe Torture does not include Gore, Guts, or Dismemberment. Severe Torture always includes blood, bruises, screaming, and begging in varying degrees. Severe Torture may include Dislocation, Bone Fractures, Systematic Choking, Psychological Torment, Starvation, Humiliation, and other similar triggers. Please proceed with caution.

"Gee, are you really sure you don't mind?"

Cecil put the small duffel bag on the floor by the nightstand and turned around, meeting his double's significantly darker, more hole-like eyes with a smile. "Kevin, we've been over this about ten times now."

Kevin bit down on his lip and wrung his hands, a light blush dusting his cheeks. "I know, but I feel bad. I just… are you really, really, really sure you don't mind?"

Cecil extended a hand and gestured to the room they were standing in. "If you don't mind staying in a purple room with flowers and butterflies all over the walls, then I don't mind having you as my guest until you're ready to be on your own."

Smiling wistfully, the paraplegic reached out a hand and ran his sun-kissed fingers over the doorframe and wall. "I don't mind at all. Lavender is such a lovely color." He kept his hand on the surface a little bit longer and then dropped it back down to his lap, returning his attention to his host. "But I am a bit curious. Why would you have an apartment with two bedrooms when you only need one? It has to be more expensive this way…"

Cecil tensed slightly, concealing it with a quick crouch and the plugging in of a floor lamp. "Well… it's for Janice."

Kevin didn't say anything, and Cecil realized the former StrexCorp employee didn't actually know her by name. Which, given what he had been learning about Kevin's history with the company, wasn't all that surprising.

"My niece," he clarified, standing up and opening the curtains to let in some natural light. "She likes to come over and visit. She usually brings a project of some sort with her—a craft, a recipe she wants to try, schoolwork—but sometimes she'll just bring along a book to read or music to listen to." He shrugged his shoulders then, going over to the dresser and beginning the process of consolidating the spare clothing that had accumulated there into one drawer. "More often than not, she spends the night, so when I had to move a few years ago, I looked for a two-bedroom apartment and let her decide how to decorate it."

Kevin still didn't say anything, and finally, Cecil stopped what he was doing and looked at the wheelchair-bound young man.

He was smiling, not with parted lips and pearly whites, but with a small twitch in the corner of his mouth. His eyes were vacant, and while it was hard to tell exactly what he was looking at, he seemed to be staring at the place where the wall met the floor. His fingers traced idle patterns on the blanket wrapped around his legs, and when he did finally speak, his voice was like a melancholy daydream; like a happy memory turned sour by the fact that it was just that—a memory, never again to be a moment or a feeling or an experience. Something lost, but not forgotten, that would always be too far away to obtain but just close enough to taste and long for.

"You have so much love inside of you, Cecil."

Cecil blinked, caught off-guard by the statement and not entirely sure how to respond.

"Never let anyone take that away from you." Kevin tore his eyes away from the baseboard and looked up at his twin with a pained smile. "Promise me, Cecil?"

Blinking again, the Voice of Night Vale found himself struggling to actually find his voice. "I promise," he said softly, nodding his head with a smile so brief he wasn't sure whether or not he had done it or simply thought to do it.

"Oh, good!" Just like that, the solemn atmosphere was flushed from the room, replaced by a sunshiny disposition and a wide smile. "Is there anything I can do to help? I feel very unproductive just sitting here watching you."

Cecil took just a second longer to pull himself from his thoughts, replying with a shrug and a shake of the head. "I don't think so. I just have to put your clothes in the empty drawer, and then I'll go start lunch."

Kevin wet his lips and nodded, uncomfortable with the thought of unproductivity but understanding there wasn't much he could do in his situation, given the list of tasks at hand. Cecil would have things for him to do later, of course, just as he did when Janice came over. It was extremely important—at least, to Cecil it was—that both of them understood their disabilities did not, in any way, make them useless or burdensome.

Of course, even if it did, he would still love Janice just as much as he did now, and he still would have offered to let Kevin stay in his apartment, but that was beside the point.

"Are ham sandwiches alright?"

Kevin looked up from his lap and blinked a few times, his mouth hanging open slightly as he struggled to find words. "I… yes, that's fine."

Cecil arched a brow. "Is it really?"

Kevin gave an enthusiastic nod. "Yes, yes, of course. I was lost in thought, that's all." He drummed his fingers on the arm to his wheelchair. "Just lost in thought… so many thoughts… so, so, so many thoughts…"

"Ah." Cecil nodded in understanding and closed the top drawer of the dresser. "I did all of my thought-wandering yesterday before work. You just keep doing what you're doing, and I'll come and get you when lunch is ready."

"…so many thoughts… so many lost thoughts… many so lost, so lost thoughts…"

Cecil nodded again and stepped out of the room, leaving the houseguest to his thinking and setting his own mind on the task of preparing lunch.

"Please… please, no more… no—" Kevin gagged, and water came up his throat, bringing with it the faint taste of stomach acid and the pressing need to lean forward. "P-please, I've learned my lesson… I promise, I've learned… I—" Once again, his stomach rejected the surplus water, but he had no sooner coughed some up than they were pouring more down his throat.

He felt sick. He felt so sick, every inch of him wanting desperately to tear itself out of the chair and get rid of some—just some, just a little, just any amount at all—of the liquid in his stomach. His gut burned, sharp pain stabbing into his groin as he held in an hour and a half of relentless drowning, and they still weren't done.

"P-p-please…" Kevin sobbed, screwing his eyes shut and trying to grab deep breaths in between the filtered water and throat spasms. "I promise, I will never ask an intern for a d—drink in the middle of a show again." His back arched involuntarily, and he pushed against the floor with his feet, his stomach clenching as his body fought him for release. "I'll work hard, and I'll only drink during company approved breaks—ah!"

Flashes of pain sparked across his scalp, a harsh grip pulling his head back by its sopping wet, dark chocolate locks. He stared up at the bespectacled scientist—one of many, so many, there were so, so many scientists—and mouthed a silent plea for help.

"Oh, but you were so thirsty, Kevin. You just couldn't wait another two hours for that water, could you? I think it's only fair that we make you wait two hours before we take the water away. Don't you?"

"W-well, yes, but—"

"But what, Kevin? Are you saying StrexCorp shouldn't treat its employees fairly?"

Kevin closed his eyes, shaking his head despite the pain it caused him. "N-no…"

"Then what are you saying, Kevin?"

"I j-just want you to stop," the radio host sobbed. "Please, please stop… I can't take it anymore, I—" He gagged again, his body temperature climbing higher as his adrenaline continued to pound. "Please, no more… m'sorry… n-no more, please…"

"Kevin, we aren't stopping until we've reached two hours." For a moment, the hand on Kevin's head eased up, stroking the salty cheeks gently. "Now, listen to me. There are two ways we can proceed. One, you can accept the consequences of your actions, and I can help you get through the last thirty-three minutes of your punishment. Or two, you can continue to beg and whine and fight, at which point I'll have no choice but to force your failure and start over from the very beginning. Which will it be?"

Kevin heaved, trying not to choke, spitting the contents of his mouth over his chin, and then he went limp in his chair. He stared, exhausted, up at the scientist holding his head. He knew he wouldn't last much longer, but he couldn't start over. He couldn't take another two hours of feeling as though he were about to burst.

He just couldn't.

"I… I am sorry for m-my unacceptable behavior, and I—" He gagged again, but this time, he swallowed. "I accept whatever d-disciplinary measures… StrexCorp deems… ap-ppropriate…"

"That's the spirit, Kevin!" the scientist praised. "Now, let's see if I have anything that can help you hold out just a little bit longer. What a wonderful learner you are, Kevin. What a dedicated employee. How did we ever get lucky enough to hire you?"

Kevin's lips twitched into the lightest of smiles, but it faded almost immediately. He stopped begging, just as he had been asked to, but he couldn't make his eyes stop watering. He couldn't calm his gag reflex, and he couldn't make his bladder any less anxious to be empty.

"Here, why don't we try this…"

Cecil didn't know what time it was when the first screams roused him from sleep, but he knew it was entirely too early for anyone in their right mind to be screaming. Still, he pulled himself out of bed, grumbling to himself about needing a coffee machine on his nightstand, and made his way over to the door.

Blinking slowly, he looked at the knob, trying to grab it and missing more than once. It seemed so foreign, and his fingers were completely useless any time he woke up in the middle of the night.

Well, it is only screaming. I suppose I could check it out in the morning before…

Wait. Wait, wait, wait. Screaming. Scream… ing. Screaming? Screaming…

Oh.

Oh.

Cecil threw the door wide open, letting it bang against the dresser in his room while he ran down the short hallway to Kevin's temporary lodging. He threw the second door open with equal vigor, crossing the room in a flash and grabbing his fellow host by the shoulders.

"Kevin! Kevin, wake up. It's me, Cecil. Kevin!"

"No!" Kevin screamed, eyes snapping open as he seized Cecil's wrists. "No, no, no. Please, I'll be good. I'll be good!"

Cecil froze, taken aback for more than a few seconds as he realized what the other was saying to him. He wasn't dreaming anymore, unless he had somehow developed the ability to sleep with his eyes open, and yet he definitely didn't realize he was in Cecil's apartment.

"Kevin," the albino started softly. "Kevin, it's Cecil."

"No, no, no, no, no, please." Kevin hiccupped, tears rolling down his cheeks, and continued to beg and bargain. "I'll be good, I swear. I'll work harder, and I'll smile wider—I can be a good boy, I promise, so please—"

"Kevin, you're awake now." Cecil winced as the grip on his wrists tightened. "Whatever you were dreaming—or remembering—it's over. It's over now, you're safe."

"Please, please, please—"

"Kevin, it's alright."

"—please, please, please—"

"You have to calm down."

"—please, please—"

"K-Kevin, you're hurting me!" Cecil pulled his arms towards himself, trying to free his wrists from the other male's progressively stronger grip. "Just, just wait here for a second." He stumbled backwards, finally breaking out of the ballistic man's hold. "Wait here, I'm going to call Carlos. He'll know—"

Kevin shrieked.

No, Cecil didn't think shriek was quite the right word. In a way it was, the screech coming out high-pitched and airy, but in another way it wasn't. It was more like a scream, desperate and raw, or perhaps a wail, loud and long and shifting in tone and pitch and volume.

"But I said I'll be good!" the refugee cried, and the sheer anguish in his voice made the rescuer feel sick to his stomach. "Please, please, not him, not him, not him! I'll be good, I'll be good, I'll be good, I promise I'll be good! Oh, smiling god, please no, not him!"

Cecil stared, horrified, completely at a loss for what to do. He felt utterly helpless as he looked on, watching as Kevin thrashed on the bed and screamed—outright screamed bloody murder, rending the air as if he were being stabbed repeatedly with a dull knife.

"Okay, okay! Kevin, I won't call Carlos. Okay? Kevin, you have to—Kevin—!" Pale eyes darted around the room, hoping to find some sort of advice written on the walls. "L-look, uh, look around you. Does this look like a StrexCorp facility, Kevin? Think—just think about it."

For once, Kevin didn't speak in between Cecil's words, but the sobbing didn't stop. It didn't even waver.

"Tell me—tell me what color the walls are, Kevin." Cecil continued to examine the room as he spoke, trying to find anything he could use to bring the young man back to reality, all the while beginning a slow and cautious approach. "Come on, Kevin, you're a bright guy. Tell me what color the room is."

"It's—It's p-purple." Kevin dragged air down into his lungs, his cries chopping apart the normally smooth sound. "I mean lilac—no, wait, lavender."

Cecil nodded, smiling as enthusiastically as he could. "Right, that's right. StrexCorp is orange, remember? They wouldn't put you in a lavender room. And, um—" He detoured over to the corner and grabbed one of the many stuffed animals his niece had piled there. "Here, look at this."

Kevin reached out his hands immediately, most likely out of a desire to please than anything else, but he slowed down once the object was given to him. He squeezed it a bit, shook his entire body, and then squeezed it again. "It's a—a c-cat… it's a st-stuffed c-cat…"

"It is," the albino encouraged. "Isn't it soft? Adorable, too, am I right?"

Kevin blinked a few times, shivering on the bed, and then he nodded. "R-right, it's…" He tensed up, looking around the room and clutching the toy to his chest. Panting, he turned his empty eyes back to Cecil, the beginnings of hope ghosting across his features. "I made it?"

It was Cecil's turn to blink, confusion creasing his brow.

"My punishment is over? I-I made it? I can go h-home now?"

Cecil opened and closed his mouth soundlessly, resembling a fish out of water as his brain scrambled to determine what kind of response was the best one. "Kevin, I—I don't know how to make you understand. There…" He wet his lips, slowly approaching the bed with his hands outstretched. "There is no punishment. There is no Strex. You're in my apartment—me, Cecil Gershwin Palmer, your fellow radio host from Night Vale."

Kevin blinked, slower than before, and hesitantly extended his own hand towards Cecil. It trembled, fingers twitching intermittently as he lowered his hand into Cecil's, relief flooding in through a gasp and out through a whimper as contact was made.

Cecil brought his other hand up and cautiously, carefully lowered it onto the one Kevin had given him. "It's me," he whispered. "It was only a nightmare, Kevin. It's me, Cecil. You're safe. You're in Janice's bedroom, and you're safe."

Kevin hiccupped and raised his other hand, the one still clutching the stuffed cat, to his mouth, pressing a knuckle to his lips. "Cecil…?"

Cecil smiled and nodded enthusiastically. "Yes! Yes, it's me."

"I-I…" Kevin stammered and stopped, looking down at himself and then back up at his caretaker. His face twisted, contorted by a kind of gut-wrenching defeat Cecil had never seen before in his life.

Still holding the shaking hand, Cecil sat down on the bed and spoke as softly and as kindly as he could. He pretended he was in his studio, whispering sweet nothings to his listeners and soothing their petrified hearts so they would have the strength to rise the next morning and face whatever the day would have for them.

"You…?" Cecil pressed.

Kevin sniveled, gnawing on his fingers. "I was s-so s-scared, Ce—Cecil."

It took all of two seconds for the tears to start again, and for a moment, Cecil feared he had done something wrong. However, it took just another three seconds for him to realize the new tears were different.

"Oh, Kevin. Come here," the host whispered, sliding a little closer and releasing the other's hand in favor of wrapping both arms around his broken houseguest.

Kevin didn't return the embrace. Instead, he curled in on himself, shrinking as much as he possibly could and pressing his entire body into Cecil's arms. He cried, nearly silent in comparison to the unholy bedlam he had been making just a few minutes earlier, and yet no less chest-racking or violent.

He's so small. Cecil licked his lips, tucking his chin over the other's head. I never realized. We're so similar, but… StrexCorp would have wanted him strong enough to work but weak enough to control, and you don't need a lot of strength to talk on the radio.

Kevin sniffled and fingered Cecil's purple nightshirt, managing to get down a few gulps of air before the sobbing started up again.

He's so… Cecil turned his head, resting his cheek where his chin had been, and squeezed the man in his arms. Frail. Like he would break in two if Cecil held him just a little bit tighter.

"Kevin." Cecil shifted himself so his left arm was wrapped around the smaller man's shoulders. "It's alright now, Kevin. Strex can't hurt you anymore."

Kevin shuddered, not resisting the movement, entirely pliable in the hands of his caretaker. "Uh-huh," he mumbled, his voice nasally and thick.

"Do you… want to talk about it?" Cecil placed his right hand on Kevin's side and slowly lowered both of them back down onto the mattress, keeping the traumatized young man nestled against him. "If not, that's fine. I could… I could make us some tea. Or, uh, or at least get you a glass of water. You don't want to get dehydrated from all this crying, right?"

Kevin tensed in that same, sudden, visceral way he had when he heard Carlos' name. "But I didn't ask for a drink," he squeaked.

"No, I know," Cecil said quickly, rubbing small circles on the damp, still heaving chest. "It would be a good idea to have some water though." He licking his lips, sensing that something was clearly upsetting about the concept. "Just a little bit, maybe?"

"B-but I can't." Despite the fear in his voice, Kevin didn't move away. In fact, he drew closer, almost as if he thought he could physically hide away inside of his double. "Please, don't make me…"

Cecil shushed him, one arm still trapped underneath his guest while the hand of the other danced around the bed, tucking and brushing and rubbing at anything that seemed out of place or uncomfortable. "I won't make you do anything, Kevin. I just thought you might be thirsty. You're not—" Cecil shook his head. "Kevin, think about where you are."

Kevin sniffed again, breathing in through his mouth when the action failed to get him any oxygen. "I'm with you," he whispered. "I'm… in Night Vale with you, Cecil."

Cecil smiled encouragingly and nodded. "That's right."

Kevin nodded in sync with the Voice of Night Vale, sockets scanning the other's face for… something.

This isn't working. Cecil gave him another smile and started to sit back up. "Have you ever watched The Trees?"

Kevin blinked, sniffed, and then blinked again. "W-well, I like all kinds of nature, but…"

"No, no. The Trees." Cecil chuckled softly, pulling his arm free and leaning over his fellow radio personality. "It's a comedy, one of the better ones. The entire cast winds up dead. Literally. Every single cast member died by the time the movie was produced."

"Oh." Kevin brought an arm up and wiped his eyes, looking around the room almost as if he expected his next words to seal some horrible punishment. "They d-don't make them like th-that anymore, do they?"

Cecil smiled a bit more and shook his head. "No, they don't. These days, at least three cast members survive every film. Sort of ruins the ambiance, if you ask me."

Kevin's breath hitched, almost as if he were about to cry again, but it was a half-hearted laugh that found its way up his throat. "If you want, we can… we can watch it now. I think I would like that."

"Fantastic!" Cecil rubbed his hands together and got to his feet, leaning over the bed and gesturing towards the lower half. "Before I get you out of bed, do you need me to…?"

Whether the redness in Kevin's face was from a blush or from the spastic crying, Cecil didn't know, but the smaller radio host was clearly unnerved by the question.

"It's alright." Cecil laughed good-naturedly, waving a dismissive hand. "I change Janice all the time."

Kevin only looked the other way. "But Janice is a child."

"So?" Cecil reached out, brushing sweaty bangs out of the soulless black holes that served as eyes for his twin. "She won't always be, and I am fully prepared to continue helping her well into adulthood. It doesn't bother me at all."

Kevin said nothing, screwing his eyes shut as the blush crept higher and higher, the tips of his ears slowly turning dark red.

"Kevin…" Cecil sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. "I know I'm not Carlos, but I want to help you just as much as he does. Maybe… maybe I didn't at first, but you're… you need help, Kevin. You can't do this alone, and I know a thing or two about…" He ran both hands through his hair and sighed again. "Let me help, Kevin. I won't hurt you, I promise."

The bedridden man didn't consent, but he didn't say no, either. He just sort of turned his head the other way, bit down on his lip, and blushed a red that was deeper and darker than the best sunsets Night Vale had to offer.

Cecil opened his mouth to speak but then decided silence would be the better option, at least until he sensed some sort of increase in the other's discomfort. So, keeping silent and moving quickly, Cecil pulled down the comforter and tugged Kevin's lounge pants down after them. Removing the soiled diaper and replacing it took no more than five minutes, the movements almost entirely habitual, albeit memorized on a smaller person. Honestly, the only difficult or awkward part of the procedure was trying to Kevin's pants back on.

"Sorry," the albino whispered, noticing the taught muscles of the other's stomach. "Did I hurt you?"

Kevin shook his head, still staring at the wall and blushing, not at all comfortable with the situation he had been forced into.

I can't very well take away his paralysis, and I also can't let him sit in a mess until he can get his legs rewired. Cecil sighed softly. What do I do?

"Cecil?" the dark-haired man asked, his voice small and withdrawn. "I… I was dreaming about… and I was wondering, if I was dreaming about it while I was doing it…" Kevin paused, shifting on the bed. "Does that maybe mean my lower body is still sending some messages to my brain? And vice versa? I-I mean, is it possible?"

Cecil crossed his arms over his chest, curling his fingers around his chin as he considered the possibility. "Well, I suppose anything is possible. I… I don't really know. I would have to ask… someone else; this sounds like a scientific question, for someone who does science."

Kevin nodded slightly. "Mhm. Just wondering, that's all."

Cecil also nodded, considerably slower, and after a second or two of silence, he jumped back into the moment. "Well, let's get you out on the couch. I'll pop us some popcorn, brew some hot tea, and you and I can watch The Trees."

Kevin looked up at him, a slight crease in his brow. "You have to work tomorrow, don't you?"

But the Voice of Night Vale waved it off with a laugh. "Do you have any idea how many of my shows have been powered entirely by coffee and abject terror? I'll be fine."

Then, before Kevin had a chance to object any further, Cecil wormed his arms beneath the smaller male and lifted him from the bed. Skipping the wheelchair entirely, Cecil carried him down the hall and into the living room, plopping him on the couch before disappearing back into the bedroom to retrieve as many blankets, pillows, stuffed animals, and otherwise soft and comfortable things as he could find.

Kevin giggled at the sight of him coming down the hall, watching with sheer delight as the pile of fluffy things around him grew higher and higher. Then came the popcorn, and Kevin held it in his lap with a big grin, shoving a handful between his perfectly aligned, surgically implanted teeth and chewing contentedly. It took a minute or so more for the tea to be done, and then Cecil was sitting down next to him, using the controller to navigate the Netflix menus.

"Thank you, Cecil."

"For what?" the host asked, giving the guest a soft smile.

Kevin brought his tea up to his mouth and inhaled the steam, scratching at the scar on his left cheek. "For being my friend. I haven't had a friend in… in a very long time."

"I'm glad you think of me as a friend." Cecil draped his arm over the back of the couch as the movie began. "But you don't have to thank me. Friendship is what friends are for, after all."

Kevin blinked a few times, surprised, and then smiled. "Yes." He leaned into the other's side, allowing Cecil to hold him close and pulling a pillow across their laps with his free hand. "Yes, I suppose you're right."

Cecil sniffed. "Of course I am."

Kevin sniffed back. "Of course you are."

"Shh, the movie's starting." Cecil opened his mouth. "I don't have a free hand. Gimme popcorn."

Kevin obliged, giggling to himself but falling silent in order to direct his attention towards the movie. "Ooh, is that one of the Trees?"

"No, that's just a tree. That over there is one of the Trees."

"Will you tell me when there's a Tree?"

"Just watch the movie, Kevin."

"Sorry." Pause. "Is that one a Tree?"

Cecil sighed. Kevin tensed. Cecil waited. Kevin relaxed.

Everything was alright. It was rough and disjointed and full of painful misunderstandings. It was unpredictable, frightening, overwhelming, confounding, and impossible. It was hard to understand and even harder to fix, but it was alright.

Everything was alright.