AN: I had a struggle writing this chapter. I couldn't figure out what to do with the character details, and after playing a lot of mental ping pong, I finally came to some conclusion. Hopefully it turned out suitable.

Again, thank you so much to my betas Elillierose and Bagpipes5K2. They gave me the much-needed feedback to reflect on and shape this into what it came to be.

And I want to thank you for reading this story, I hope the Tool series, or just 'Life', has been enjoyable. I've planned perhaps two or three chapters more, but that's gonna conclude the story and the Tool trilogy. I have it planned, and I think it'll finally be the redemption Prompto deserves. *heart* I've dragged him through hell. ^^' Like, I love him, honestly. Believe it or not from the way I treat him in my stories. ;D

Chapter 3

"Is familiar hell...better than unknown heaven?"

Prompto was crouching behind a cargo container, his back pressed against the rough surface and both hands grasping the handle of his pistol. His shallow breaths formed small clouds before the condensation disappeared into the darkness; the thumping of his heart was loud in the surrounding silence, too loud. It was almost like the noise had come from all around him and not just from inside him, like the entire world was beating to the tempo of his pulse. The repeated gulps did little but add to the anticipation as he peeked around his cover. Nothing. Not entirely trusting his eyes, Prompto stood up carefully and, staying close to the wall, sneaked forward as quietly as he could.

The sounds of battle reached his ears, and hissing a low curse, he dashed, his initial carefulness all but forgotten at the sound of the familiar voices. He heard his name being called. He heard those of the others.

It was a huge hangar. A loading deck of sorts. Thirty-some feet below him, they were fighting what seemed like an endless horde of demons. There were at least twenty, and more kept crawling from the miasmal pools of darkness. Prompto's breath caught in his throat as he slammed himself against the railing overlooking the mayhem, his eyes instinctively seeking out his friends' forms. "Guys!" his voice drowned under the infernal screeches. Grunting, the pistol found its mark and the shot rang out, but instead of piercing through or even crippling the foul creature, the bullet made an eerie 'chink' as it ricocheted from the ground beneath the fiend's feet as if it had never made contact. "What the-?"

He was interrupted as the smooth voice slithered suggestively, 'You could still get to the Crystal … if you went on your own. Your friends will have to stay behind.'

Prompto remembered this. This hair-raising voice, he had heard it before. An unnatural feeling of not belonging came over him, and his eyes flew to search for the rough location he remembered having stood then. He was there, fighting off those demons, and the gunner sighed lightly. He knew what this was. He had to force down the urge to turn away when the other Prompto turned to look after Noctis' fleeting form as the prince dashed for the elevator. It was the last time he would see him in a long, long time. The younger him just didn't know it yet. Like he was hypnotized, Prompto watched how Noctis disappeared behind the blast doors. It took a moment for the thought of going after him to formulate.

Hopping to his feet, the blond hurried in the direction he had seen Noctis disappear to. His feet clanked heavily on the grate as he ran along the maintenance deck. The brief thought of the demons noticing his presence was shoved to the back of his mind; he'd worry about that later. He didn't care, he needed to find Noct! 'Before it's too late,' he thought, his jaw clenching, hastening breaths sounding through his teeth. "Noooct?!"

There was light in the distance, a familiar blue glimmer, and his steps quickened. "Noct?!" Coming to an abrupt halt at the entrance to the cavern, his throat clenched around an exhale as he saw him, standing in front of the Crystal, his hand raised as if he was about to touch it.

"Noct, no!"

Noctis flinched and turned to look at him. "Prom?" The gunner read the surprise and confusion on the raven's face before the flash of bright light, and Noctis' eyes widened as he was being pulled inside. "Huh?!" Turning back, the raven struggled to free himself, but as he watched, the Crystal was slowly swallowing him as he was dragged forward.

"No!" Prompto cried out as he dashed.

His arm almost gone already, terror, panic and disbelief were written all over Noctis' face as he reached out with his free hand. "Prompto!"

"Hang on, I'm coming!" He ran as fast as he could.

"Help me!"

"Noct!" Extending his hand, he reached for the raven. He was so close, so close. But perhaps it was just his wretched luck, or the Astrals had turned their backs to him. Prompto's fingers closed around thin air, Noctis' pained, scared scream rang in his ears as the raven was consumed by the jewel.

'Promptoooh!'

He was pretty sure he was screaming, too. Wordless cries of misery as he stumbled forward weightlessly. Suddenly, the world exploded as a storm of darkness and voices and flashes of color. Letting out a low whimper, Prompto dropped down to crouch and covered his ears as he was hit with the vertigo. Around him, the voices got louder, angrier; they seemed to come closer, and Prompto had to stifle a gag at the rush of dizziness as the air grew somehow ominous, somehow suffocating. He could make out individual people from the cacophony of screams and cries and shouts, and he knew those voices. He loved those voices.

'You have been nothing but an inconvenience to us from the start,' Ignis' sneer had him gasping out in shock.

"Wh-what?" Prompto mouthed, a sting in his heart. "What're you sayin'…?"

'We wouldn't be in this mess right now if it weren't for you,' Gladio growled condescendingly.

'You're useless.'

"Stop it," the blond whispered to himself as the overload flooded his senses. "This's not real," he repeated to himself like a mantra. They couldn't really be saying such things, could they?

'It was your fault Noct got taken.'

'If we only had never met you.'

'Prompto…'

"Stop it…"

'You were always just a coward.'

'Nothing but a puppet…'

'Traitor.'

'Traitor!'

"No!" he yelled out, eyes squeezed shut and hands digging into his skull. "It wasn't like that! I'm, I'm not like that! I-" the rest of his plea was lost under the sea of screams around him, the voices now a blaring mess that was making his head hurt, until-

'Prompto. Why did you let me die?'

"Huh?" Wincing, the blond cracked his eyes open. The vortex was gone, as were the voices, but his ears were still ringing. Blinking, he opened them fully as he gazed up at the neon signs and glimmering street lights of Insomnia. "What the…?"

He was really home. Insomnia, just the way he remembered it from his youth. He was in front of the palace gates, the majestic structure standing before him almost loomingly. Prompto had been through it just twice, the first time having been under significantly happier conditions than the second. But beneath the arch, there was a figure coming closer, and that had him scampering to his feet, dizziness be damned. Beneath that arch, coming towards him with steadfast steps, was Noctis.

It wasn't the young Noctis from a moment ago. The older one, now dressed in his kingly attire instead of his more casual wear, eyed him grimly as he closed the distance, all the while holding the blond, as if nailed to the spot, with his gaze. He stopped a few feet from the other, arms crossed over his chest and something akin to despair twisting his features as he just looked at him for a while, then, "Well. Aren't you gonna answer me?"

Prompto was thrown off. "Huh?! A-answer you what? Noct, is it… is it really you?"

"Of course, it's me," he scoffed, pain behind his pointed tone. "Or have you forgotten about me?"

"Of course not! Never, Noct. I…" Prompto's voice trailed to silence as Noctis came closer. "Uhm, N-Noct?" now merely a foot from the other, and the gunner found himself wanting to back off a little. The sudden closeness had his heart rate climbing slightly. But it about skyrocketed as Noctis reached out to run a hand through his spikes, then down his cheek before gently grabbing a hold of his chin, forcing their eyes to meet.

"Then answer me. Why did you let me die, Prompto?"

His limbs turned to stone, coldness spreading through him. Noctis' grip fell off as the blond shook his head, first disbelievingly, then desperately. "Why're you sayin' that, Noct? I-it wasn't like that! I didn't... I, I never wanted you to-!" he almost cried out, hating the pitch of his voice as he took a step back. This wasn't Noct. This Noct scared him. He lacked the warmth and the calm of the prince. This Noct before him was made of vengeance and regret. His fears were confirmed as Noctis took a step to follow him.

"Then why didn't you stop me, Prompto?!" Noctis spat out, his voice rising. "Why did you let me go?!"

The blond had backed away, his heart felt like it was slamming right against his ribcage. He was scared, looking into those pools of sorrow that held him pinned under their scrutiny like a butterfly on display. What could he say to that? Each attempt died on his tongue, each lie only slashing back at him as he recognized each one of them to be an excuse. "Noct… dude, chill out. You're scaring me," he snorted nervously as he backed away still, a part of him praying that there was nothing behind him.

"You knew that getting inside would get me killed, didn't you?" Noctis sounded different again. Now it was less of the contained fury, it was softer. It was regret.

The dark blues pierced through down to his very core as pain twisted the raven's features, "It's your fault I died, Prompto. You should have stopped me. Why did you let me die?"

Prompto couldn't believe he was hearing this, this wasn't real. "No. Noct, no! I never wanted to-! You said there was no other way, you were the King…!"

The raven came to an abrupt stop, huffing out in frustration as he was left to simply gaze at him, shaking his head in denial. "You should have stopped me, Prompto. Shouldn't have let me go." Then, he turned around slowly, shaking his head as if he was leaving behind something undesirable.

"Noct?" Prompto asked tentatively; a hand rose to reach the shoulder, but the other shoved it off. Noctis shot him one more glare – a glare – over his shoulder,

"Your fault."

Air ran out of the blond's lungs; he felt like someone had elbowed him right in his abdomen. Like in a slow-motion movie, he watched how Noctis swished his head and started walking away. His hand was still held suspended mid-air after the king had pushed it aside; stood on numb legs, Prompto looked a lot like a landed fish, his mouth opening and closing but nothing coming out. "Wa-wait…!" He didn't know what to say to make him understand, he just knew he couldn't waste this chance, couldn't bear to let him go. Not again. "Noct, wait!" Forcing his legs to move, the blond ran after the distancing form. But no matter how fast he ran, he never seemed to get any closer. His legs were growing sluggish and exhausted even though he tried to push himself. Noctis got farther and farther. 'Come back!' Reaching out after the raven, he cried out,

"Noooct!"

The trailer snapped back in a fuzzy rush of stinging and the last hollow remnants of his own voice. Panting heavily into the darkness, Prompto could just stare with unseeing eyes, and the ceiling slowly came back into focus again. His left hand was clutching the bedsheets, the other was still stretched out, reaching for something that wasn't there. His arm trembled, and only after a while did Prompto allow it to slump down onto his chest, then wrap around him in a small gesture of holding himself. His teeth grit, breaths turning into hissing. "Noct" was so quiet it was practically mouthed. 'I'm sorry!' Prompto had to squeeze his eyes shut again to will away the guilt that now stung them. 'I'm so sorry!'

It hadn't been the first time. In the first weeks, Prompto remembered waking up screaming more times than he could count. It was always the same. It was always Noct telling him that it had been his fault. How he should have stopped him.

This hadn't happened in a long while. He had thought he was over it.

In the beginning, the first few times it had happened, he had told Ignis and Gladio about it. It had been Gladdy who had snapped him out of it a couple times, too, as he had been thrashing in his bunk bed, crying out Noct's name and gotten himself tangled into his own bedsheets. They had talked about it, both of them insisting that this had been Noctis' destiny all along. That there was nothing none of them could have done. That he shouldn't blame himself for anything. Even back then, Prompto didn't know whom they had been trying to convince, him or themselves.

He had never told them about their voices. Berating him. Accusing him. Prompto knew it would reopen some old wounds he would rather were left to the past. Even if it meant something was left unsaid between them.

Grunting, the blond forced himself to wriggle onto his side and snatched his phone from the nightstand. His eyes squinted a little under the harsh light, but as he got a little bit more used to it, he cracked his one eye open just enough to read the time: 22:37. With a moan of frustration, he shoved the device into his pillow as he let his eyes slide closed again. So he had missed dinner. 'Awesome,' he thought with a deep sigh. His stomach, now that he was lucid enough to realize it, was protesting loudly, and Prompto wrapped an arm around it in a weak attempt to make the gnawing sensation go away.

He pondered if he should just go get something from the mainhouse. But Wiz would be asleep already, the man usually went to bed early, and Prompto didn't want to risk waking him up for his own stupidity. He had some dry foods stashed in the small cabinet of the trailer kitchenette. Debating whether it was worth the effort, Prompto eventually kicked the blanket off himself, though, and scrambled up from the bed. Blindly he fished out his phone again, and switched the flashlight on to go scavenge whatever he could find from his small storage.

The cabinet door gave a warning squeak as he yanked it open with a little too much force. Hissing at the pitch, Prompto's eyes squeezed shut reflexively, a bead sliding down his pipe at the shivers it sent down his back. A blue eye cracked open a little to peer into the harsh light, then the other. A disappointed sigh left him as he counted the small selection available for him. There really wasn't much, and Prompto made a mental note to restock as soon as he could. It wouldn't help him at the moment, though, as only a couple of packs of crackers, some rations and a few cans of ready-to-heat vegetable soup stared back at him from the shelf. Rolling his eyes in frustration, he snatched the pack of crackers and slammed the door shut before slumping down against the cabinet to munch on the salty biscuit. Some dinner.

"Heh. Almost as good as what Iggy used to make," Prompto whispered with mock enthusiasm, then sighed again. He wondered what the ex-adviser was doing at the moment. 'Probably sleeping,' he shrugged at his own question. Ignis had taken to a strict rhythm. 'Early rise made for an early head start for the day,' Ignis had said once. Or something like that, Prompto hadn't quite caught that. Ignis had lost him at 'early rise'. Then again, the brunet had always been the morning person of their crowd anyway, Prompto thought, with a small pang in his chest. His head came to rest against the wood.

He missed him. All he had seen of the man since he had left Lestallum to come to live on the ranch had been at Gladio's wedding. It was six months ago. He met up with the brute at least once per month, sometimes more, given that the couple lived just south of Cauthess, but Ignis rarely left the city, much due to the responsibilities the brunet had engaged himself in. Prompto himself seldom had time to head out to Lestallum, either. It was a full day's ride, and spending even just one day out there meant that he'd be gone for at least three. He hadn't wanted to leave Wiz hanging for that long; Hammerhead had been a no-can-do.

But, he missed him. Sure, they called, but it wasn't the same. They'd end up talking about work or the weather or some other mundane stuff like that. It wasn't the same; he missed the man's company. The calm and the reassurance. Talking on the phone didn't bring that back. And Ignis was busy, he knew that. In the long months after the sunrise, the survivors had struggled to reform an organized society. A system, instead of a culture of scavenging, opportunistic battling for livelihood and at-gunpoint law enforcement. Ignis, with his leadership skills and knowledge, had taken a part in shaping the new governing method, in the lack of a model. The royal line of Caelums had died with the 114th, and in the absence of a pre-existing system, the survivors had to forge a new one. Ignis didn't want to talk about that too much, though, saying that there was still a lot to do, and Prompto hadn't pried further. At least they now had some resemblance of peacekeeping, and aid was going out to those in need, that was a start. Theirs was still a wild west: who cared about making new laws when they barely had a society to govern in the first place?

Gulping down the last bite of the fourth cracker, Prompto smacked his mouth at the dull aftertaste before tossing the pack a little ways to the side. He wasn't hungry anymore. Not because the biscuits had been much of a meal, but… he sighed deep. He had lost his appetite. Thinking about Ignis and Gladio - their voices in the back of his mind, always judging, always doubting, always, always berating… no! Prompto shook his head to drive those thoughts away. No! It wasn't like that. He, he trusted them, with his life. 'And they trust me!' he told himself firmly. Sure, they had had their bumps on the road in the past. But it had worked out. For all of them. Both of them, Prompto knew, would risk their lives for him, and he would do the same. They were more than friends to him, they were a family! They…

He gulped, a deep sigh leaving him.

They were all gone.

He was all alone again.

Prompto slept poorly. Intermittent and restless hours with more tossing and turning than actually laying down. He remembered glancing at the clock at around four, but apparently he had fallen into a form of slumber in the early morning hours, since when he jerked out of his hypnosis to look at the clock again, it read close to seven all of a sudden. With low moans of frustration, he tried to stretch the exhaustion from his limbs before crawling out of the bed, and towards the kitchenette.

The blue gaze landed briefly on the discarded pack of crackers, and Prompto inwardly scowled. A bit reluctantly, he snatched the item, and gobbled up a couple of them, something to jump-start him as he grabbed the first jacket he could get his hands on, and almost dashed out of the trailer, the walls suddenly enclosing and feeling like he'd suffocate if he stayed inside a moment longer.

Wiz was out before him, though, already feeding the birds their breakfast as the chicks tangled in the adults' feet and slipped out of the pen to scratch something up from the ground. Chuckling lowly, Prompto quietly sneaked up on an escapee, and gently scooped it up, the chick giving a frightened peep for its mother before it apparently recognized the blond kin, and calmed down in his arms enough for Prompto to carry it back to the pen.

Wiz waved his hand in a sloppy greeting as he got closer, "Mornin', kid. Slept well?"

Prompto jerked his head as a reply before crouching down to let the baby bird go, "Morning. And, uh, not too bad, I guess."

"Had quite a nap there last night, didn't you?"

"Uh," the younger started, feeling his cheek heat up a little, "I, uhm, sorry about the dinner."

"Don't worry about it. 'T looked like you needed that sleep, son. Didn't wanna wake you." Then, as if to remember something, Wiz's eyebrows rose, his expression seemed to brighten up, and he added, "You must be hungry. C'mon. Breakfast's ready."

Baffled, Prompto's gaze went to the birds. "But what about-?"

"Hehe. Nonsense, kid. The birds know how to eat without you. Come now. One can't work on an empty stomach, now can he?"

"Well, s-sure," he uttered, a shy-slash-grateful grin rising onto his face. "Thanks, Wiz."

"Don't mention it, kid."

Wiz led him indoors. Despite joining the man for dinner practically every night, Prompto still felt like a guest to the mainhouse. It was something he never mentioned, but Wiz seemed to read it from the way the junior held himself, how he always waited for permission to sit or make himself at home. He had told Prompto many a time that he didn't need to be a stranger, that this house was now his home as much as it was his, and that he was free to help himself to anything he wanted. But Prompto had always just thanked him, never really acted upon it, it didn't feel right to him. He saw himself as an employee, or a tenant at most, working to pay for his living. But the idea of making this his home, too… it felt foreign to him. He had had a home, once. It lay in rubble in Insomnia. He had spent so long on the road that he had never allowed himself to get attached to one place enough to make it a 'home' again. Not even Lestallum. He had had a place, but it had been the same. Temporary, just like his stay. A place to sleep and call his own, no more.

Wiz's kitchen was compact, but sat the two of them comfortably enough. Prompto often wondered if there had been a missus, but had never asked. He didn't think it was his business. Wiz didn't ask too much about his past - which Prompto appreciated more than the man would ever know - so he didn't want to seem like he was prying, either. The savory, rich aroma of freshly cooked mushrooms and meat brought water onto his tongue, and Prompto subconsciously licked his lips a little. He hadn't even realized how hungry he actually was, but when Wiz set the plate in front of him, Prompto could hear the heavenly bells tolling as he eyed his meal like it was an oasis in the middle of a desert.

The older man chuckled into his beard as the blond dug into it almost voraciously, "My, had I known I had a voretooth living with me, I'd made some extra." Embarrassed, Prompto gulped down the last forkful as he averted his eyes and chuckled a bit hesitantly,

"I guess I was bit hungry." His attention was brought right back, though, at the man's heartfelt laughter.

"You really don't hafta apologize, kid. Glad you like it."

Scratching the back of his neck, feeling awkward all of a sudden, Prompto decided that it was probably the best to change the topic. "So, what's for today?"

The other ran his fingers down his beard in thought. "Well, I've been meaning to replace the roofing on the shelter there… would you mind giving me a hand with that?"

"No prob!" Prompto grinned, stretching his arms up energetically. "Leave it to me!" He was already rising from the table when the other's voice halted him briefly,

"Heh, I didn't mean right now, heavens. Sit down, eat. The work ain't runnin' from ya. Just lemme finish this here-" But Prompto motioned him quiet. Shaking his head, he smiled a little.

"Nah. You take it easy for a day, gramps." He flicked his fingers a little as a sign saying that he got this. "You've been running this place alone for three days, and I think that calls for some me-time for you, man. I've got this," he pointed his thumb at himself. He set his dishes down into the sink as he brushed by towards the door, "Thanks for the meal." He offered the senior a smile before turning on his heel to head out. The blond head swished around just in time for Prompto to miss the amused shake of head and Wiz's private smile.

"You're welcome, kid… Heh, 'gramps'...

For the rest of the morning, Prompto tinkered around with the tiles. It wasn't exactly the kind of work he excelled in, being more of a tech guy, but he wanted to do a good job. The birds strolled closer once or twice to take a look at what the human was doing, but the next louder bang or an unexpected clank of a tile scared them off. Prompto would stop to go calm the birds ("Easy. Easy, now, buddy…"), making a mental note to be more careful before getting back to his task.

When he finally hammered the last nail down and hopped down to admire his handiwork, Prompto jolted a bit at the excited peep sounding from behind him. His head spun around just in time to see a flash of yellow rushing by his feet before the chick was already hopping around the construction excitedly. Then, the bird scratched the ground a couple times before settling to sit beneath the shelter, looking at him like it was smiling. Prompto let out a strangled little laughter, "Well, I'm glad at least someone approves." He stepped up to drop next to the chick to pet it gently. And as the chick pushed its head against his palm affectionately, it was then that a memory resurfaced again.

The black chickabo. That one had been special. Prompto sighed, a sting of longing in his heart at the loss of the animal. They had managed to salvage the egg and brought it back here. Had practically been its adoptive parents, that's what he had thought. And it had been here, in this very place, to be exact, that they had met the baby bird for the first time. Rare as the black ones were even back then, by now, Prompto feared that they were all but extinct. The number of chocobos dropped alarmingly over the dark times, and he hadn't seen a single black one in years. That little fella, that one he missed. That, and the memory.

The bird must have sensed that there was something off with the human; it gave a softer peep, tilting its head a little as if it was asking him, 'is everything alright'. Suddenly embarrassed for drifting into his memories again, Prompto snorted, vexed, as he ran his hand down the bird's back. "It's ok, lil' buddy… everything's fine," he consoled it-or was it himself, he didn't know. The chick stared up at him with beady eyes, twitching its head in perplexion. Then, it laid its head down against his leg, and gave a deep, nigh inaudible sigh as it made itself comfortable. Prompto felt like choking.

The trance was broken with an abrupt jolt as his thigh vibrated; the chick spurred up, startled, and Prompto tried in vain to calm it down before it had sprung off already, peeping nervously. With a sigh, he followed it with his eyes as it ran off to its mother before digging his phone out. Tapping the message open, he read the words from Gladio, 'You didn't forget about that dinner tomorrow, did you?'

Shit.

He had so forgotten about that.

Gladio had invited him over for dinner a week ago, but when the oscillator broke down, it had slipped from his mind as he had headed out for Hammerhead.

Wiz was going to love this.

But, he didn't want to call the dinner off, either. Gulping a little, he sent a quick reply, asking if they wanted him to bring anything.

'Just haul yourself over here, and we'll take care of the rest.'

Sighing, Prompto pocketed his phone again, and pushed himself off the ground. Running a hand through his hair, he grabbed a firm hold of the hairs on the back of his head and gave it a frustrated yank before he strolled towards the mainhouse. "Hey, Wiz...?"