Title: The Aftermath

Fandom: Persona 5

Characters: Protagonist (Akira), Sae Niijima, Sojiro

Word Count: 6100

Rating: T

Summary: The interrogation causes a few more problems for Sae and the Phantom Thieves than they had originally expected. Akira is not well, not well at all. A bit of Protag-whump! Spoilers ahead.

Disclaimer: All recognised elements belong to the fabulous Atlus and co. I own nothing.

Author's Notes: I have recently been introduced to the Persona series, and suffice to say have lost a significant portion of my life to it. The plot bunnies have unearthed, and I'm just going with it. Spoilers through November 21st and perhaps even a little beyond...

Part 1 - During

A faint gun shot... an echo of a door slam... the ghost of a laugh... the whisper of casual footsteps receding off into the distance... the quiet sounds ripple through Akira's ears like water. He senses rather than hears them, but they drain away before he can properly take stock of their significance.

The unnaturally compelling effects of the truth serum have finally worn off, leaving in their wake a severe pounding behind his eyes and a pulsing at his temple.

Akira knows the plan has worked but he couldn't tell you how he knows. He couldn't tell you why he's smiling, either; or why the smile gives way to a hysterical cackle as complete silence falls beyond the door.

The laughter stops after a moment, and a chill falls over the interrogation room in its place.

Oh, God! how his head hurts. He isn't amused, anymore. He's in pain.

Akira thinks he hears the clip-clopping of a pair of heels growing steadily louder from beyond the interrogation room door. He shifts his focus to the handle as the clip-clopping stops.

There are hushed words. Akira wishes his brain would work properly. He wishes he could understand what is happening.

'A woman... and a guard?'

He tries to think.

"... - no doubt try to silence you... go home... forget this ever happened."

'Is it... S-Sae?'

Akira thinks he must have closed his eyes for a moment (though he doesn't recall doing it), because when they next adjust to the room's dim lighting, Sae Niijima is crouched beside him, resting a palm against his forehead. Her skin is refreshingly cool to the touch and Akira sighs delightedly before he even realises what he has done. To her credit, the Prosecutor's only acknowledgement of the sound is a raised eyebrow.

"Nii-Niijima-san?" Akira asks, thickly. This isn't good. He'd been fine a moment ago. Now he can barely string a thought together. He reaches for her hand and gently pulls it away from his forehead, but even he can tell the movement is shaky and pathetic. Thankfully, Sae can take a hint. She doesn't comment on the way his fingers are trembling or the way his head slumps forward as the support is removed. She simply rises to her feet and glances over her shoulder at the door.

"Can you stand? We have to leave, Kurusu-kun. The guard is gone, but we are not out of the woods yet. I'm going to need your help. Are you with me?"

Akira knows she is waiting for affirmation, but he's forgotten how to give it. He locks eyes with her, trying to work out what she is wanting from him. She understands, nods to herself and reaches out a hand.

His gaze drops from her face to the offered hand.

'Stand up,' he tells himself.

The command makes it to his legs, and they rise without a thought. Sae hovers for a moment, watching as the high-schooler grasps a hold of his current situation. This is the first time he has stood upright in hours. It doesn't surprise her when he sways and almost falls into the table, planting both hands palm first to regain his balance.

To his credit, he pulls himself round surprisingly quickly. She is astonished by his resilience, and watches with admiration as he finds his footing and cautiously straightens up.

"The drugs will have done a serious number on you, so we will take it steady, yes? But we have to hurry. If anyone catches you -"

"I know," he cuts her off softly, with a small nod.

The pounding behind his eyes has intensified; he just wants to go home, now. The Leader of the Phantom Thieves has retreated to the very recesses of his mind, leaving behind a bone-weary traumatised child whose only wishes are for quietness and sleep.

A shrouded look falls over the young man's face, his dark, messy hair shielding his eyes from view. Sae is suddenly hit with a sickening thought; 'he is still in school. He's a child. One of Makoto's lower-classmates...' She properly sees the bruises littering his face, the swollen lip, the ripped uniform, the puncture marks on the inner joints of his forearms. 'How many times did they inject him? It's abhorrent! It's disgusting! It's inhuman...'

A wave of nausea hits her but she swallows hard against it and steels herself.

'Focus - Escape.'

Without another thought, Sae heads to the door, pulls it open and peeks her head out. The coast is clear and she nods to Akira; he exhales softly and slowly-but-surely makes his way across the room to her. It's as if a switch has clicked in his brain, leaving him focused and determined. Her frosty heart tingles with pride, though she'd never admit it.

"Escape," he murmurs to himself. "Just need to escape." He knows what he is meant to be doing, he just can't understand how he is going to make it happen.

Sae nods encouragingly. "You will, I promise."

Akira nods too, shakes his head to clear any residual fuzziness and swallows against a wave of sickness threatening to undo his set resolve. As he crosses over the threshold and into the hallway, his mind is thankfully clear and his steps are sure: Joker has returned to take charge of the situation. Joker knows how to get out of here.

Sae places a finger to her lips in warning before hurrying to the other end of the corridor. She stops at the junction, checks right, then left, then right again. Nobody around.

She leads him down the left-hand corridor and almost laughs in relief as the lift doors slide open at the touch of a button. 'Spot of luck,' she thinks. 'No need to wait around.' She steps into the lift and the kid obediently follows. Sae hits the ground floor button with a little more force than is strictly necessary but is rewarded by a soft chime as the doors close behind them. The floor jerks as the system kicks in; Joker stumbles and falls back against the wall with a soft groan. Sae supplies a steadying hand, unable to ignore the warmth seeping through his torn school blazer. He's not well, she can tell. Things need to move quickly or they're not going to make it out.

Sae keeps a firm hold of her new charge and is pulling him out of the lift before the doors are fully open. Joker doesn't seem to notice. He's too busy trying to keep his thoughts linear and his feet in motion.

"Enemies?" he asks quietly, glancing briefly left, then right, then back at the Prosecutor. She shakes her head and they make a run for it. Joker makes it ten yards before he hears the grinding of an old heavy door opening a little way to their left. He can't quite contain a groan of frustration, as he grabs Sae by the hand and tugs her down behind a large statue, pressing himself as far into the marble as physically possible. A drunk-looking police officer stumbles through the door and heads straight for them. Joker's heart is hammering beneath his ribcage. He can feel the sweat dripping from his hair, down the back of his neck. The cop is a hair's-breadth away, so close he can smell the heady stench of cheap alcohol filling his nostrils. The acrid taste hits the back of Joker's throat and he holds his breath in the hopes of not giving away their position by retching. The officer passes by them, oblivious, walking as if he is a man with a purpose, if not exactly in a straight line. Another creaking door, followed by a soft slam, followed by silence. Joker makes to stand but a cautious hand on his shoulder holds him still for a moment. His eyes slip closed, waiting.

The Prosecutor glances around them once more and is just about to tug him upright when Joker murmurs, "all clear," and rises to his feet, a mask of determination fixed into place. Sae barely has time to ponder how he could possibly be so certain about that before he all-out bolts for the exit.

Caution to the wind, heneeds to get out of there.

The warning dies on Sae's lips before it's even formed, and all she can do is chase after him.

The rotating door has never moved so slowly in all the years she has worked in that building. Every second seems like a century, and each thumping heartbeat corresponds with a panicked thought: 'If someone walks through here, we're done for.' 'How could I even explain this?' 'What will happen to him if we're caught?'

And then miraculously, they're outside. The foyer is silent behind them and the entrance to the police station is delightfully void of life. The street-lamp overhead keeps flickering on and off, dropping them temporarily into darkness, light, darkness, light. Joker is assaulted by the sounds of city-life. Sirens, vehicles, the subway rocketing along beneath his feet, the planes soaring overhead, people laughing and shouting and celebrating and crying and -

"Kurusu-kun!"

'Why is she shouting my name like that?'

Joker looks around only to find himself staring up at the Prosecutor from the ground. His knees are hurting, for some reason. 'Did I fall down?'

"-can't stop yet! ... somewhere more secluded ... bring the car around. Just a little further... can rest, I promise-"

His head hurts, God!

'Further?' Joker despairs. 'Can't go further. I'm so done.'

With a shaky exhale that burrows right the way through to his very core, Joker retreats once again from Akira's mind: Akira is left to pick up the pieces - of which there are thousands and he is certain they will never be put back together the same way again. Strength and determination seep away into the concrete below him, and he slumps forward, catching himself with his hands before he can splatter against the floor.

The world is spinning, the dim-evening colours fusing into one big swirling mass that threatens to consume him.

" I... I c-cant-" he whispers, closing his eyes to try and stabilise the world. "My head..."

He feels cool, firm hands manhandle him upright, and senses rather than hears words of encouragement floating around his head like fireflies. Not sure how it's happened, Akira finds himself on his feet, and feels as though he should at least try to remain that way. He grits his teeth against the stabbing pain behind his eyes, unable to contain a whimper. Sae is hovering at his side, he can sense the urgency emanating from her; he knows they need to move before they are caught. He just doesn't want to.

'Get a grip, dude.' Akira opens his eyes to find Ryuji propped against the wall, arms folded, staring at him. 'You gonna get on with it, or what? Time's wastin'.' Akira nods in agreement. Ryuji smiles at this. 'That's it, man. We're all right here with ya.'

The kid's posture straightens and his eyes focus on Sae once again.

"Okay," he murmurs, more for his own sake than for hers.

"Need a hand?" she asks.

Akira looks like he wants to answer her, but doesn't. His face pales a shade further and instead he simply offers a tiny shake of his head.

"I'll get the car, you head for the alley behind the subway station, alright?" Sae instructs. She has given him a target, a goal to reach, an end result: Akira appreciates this a great deal.

Together, they glance one last time into the foyer behind them - still empty. Not even a receptionist on duty. Sae will be writing a sternly worded letter to the Commissioner of the police station about the lax evening security team.

Or perhaps she won't. Now, isn't really the time to be thinking about this. She isn't convinced splitting up is the smartest idea, either - but she doesn't want to keep the kid waiting any longer than is absolutely necessary. So with a final glance at his face to check if he is really all there with her, she points at the alley which leads behind the police station and sighs with relief as he takes the hint and hastens off down it. She watches as he hugs the wall, pauses at the corner to scout around it, then disappears out of view to be swallowed by the darkness beyond. A beat later, she is walking briskly in the opposite direction, towards the underground car park.

"What a day."

Several twists, turns and close-calls later, Akira halts in relief and leans against the subway station's back-alley wall - no, he's not leaning against it, he's slid down it. The ground is wet and cold and it's swaying like the deck of a ship in a maelstrom; he can feel a chill steadily seeping through his trousers and just can't for the life of him figure out which way is up. The horrid stench of mould and rubbish and piss assaults his nostrils, making his insides churn. There are figures rushing by at the mouth of the alleyway, paying him no mind and that suits him just fine. One blurry outline seems to expand from about the area where its head should be, sprouting a large dome-shaped black mass above it before it passes the alley and is gone from view. An umbrella, was it? Akira wonders why he doesn't have one. A moment later, a large droplet of water lands on his forehead, trickles down over his eye and rolls off his chin. He holds a palm up; feels the cold wetness leaking from the sky connect with his clammy skin.

Rain. 'Great,' he thinks, dejectedly.

All he can do now is wait for Sae. He hopes she won't be long.

Sae flashes her badge at the car-parking attendant.

To her disgust, he doesn't bother to check it; doesn't even look up to see who she is and if she even works there. The half-grunted "g'night" is Sae's only indication that the guy even knows she exists.

"Seriously?! This is ridiculous," she murmurs to herself. "No wonder the country is in such a state."

The barrier rises -'Damnit, how slow is this thing? Come on!' - and Sae puts her foot down.

"Watch your speed and drive safe," the parking attendant mumbles after her. He doesn't really care that she hasn't heard him.

Akira's shivering.

The evening sounds pierce his skull like tiny daggers and he grips at his hair in despair.

'Make it stop, please... make it stop. Too loud... It's too-'

"Guess the drug was too strong. Wake him up!"

Akira jumps out of his skin as ice-cold water douses him. "Hey! No dozing off!" Akira coughs and splutters, choking, but tries to focus on the Detective glaring down at him. His arms are aching something chronic, and it's only when he tries to stretch them that he realises they are handcuffed behind his back.

Panic is setting in. 'Hang on, this isn't right... I was in the alley. Where's Niijima-san?'He tugs at the restraints desperately. The Detective is chuckling at him.

"You still don't get it, do ya? Give it up!" A kick to the stomach knocks Akira backwards and sends the chair clattering away from underneath him. He's on the floor, coughing, gasping for air. He can feel the harsh, cold metal of the handcuffs biting into his wrists, eating through the skin with every tiny movement. "Come on, cooperate!" the Detective orders, but Akira doesn't hear the words. All he can process is the throbbing pain at his temple as the heel of the man's foot grinds into his skull. "Or what, you want another shot?" The kid blanches, nausea rolling around in the pit of his stomach. He can't move, can't think, can't draw in breath - 'please God, no, not another one, it's already been too much!' - all he can feel is trapped and cold and his heart is trying to burst out of his chest, and there's water dripping into his eyes from his soaked hair, and the Detective is still talking to him but he doesn't know what to say to appease him and his brain feels like it's been filled with cotton wool and his headis pulsing and pulsing and-

"... Hey, are you alright?"

Akira gasps and backs away, barely making it half-a-metre before he notices his back is pressed up against a dumpster. Nowhere to go, trapped...

"Kurusu-kun, it's me! It's Niijima!"

Akira's mind is racing, his eyes wild and terrified. The Detective has disappeared and there's a woman here instead. He's outside, not inside. It's raining. Any trace of the determined, cocky Joker has long since scarpered; he doesn't know who he is, or what he is doing. All he knows is he is tired. So tired, and cold and he just wants to sleep. Sae can clearly see the violent tremors wracking his bedraggled frame despite the poor light and she curses whoever will listen for making it rain tonight of all nights.

The kid is a mess. Soaked to the bone, shivering, clothes shredded and skin bruised. If she didn't know better, she'd say he urgently required medical attention. However, considering Kurusu was now technically "deceased", a diversion to the hospital would be difficult to explain away...

"I'm taking you home," she adds softly, offering him a hand once more. He seems to consider it, but doesn't take it.

Instead, he struggles upright using the dumpster handles for support. "Home," he whispers, and relief floods through his bloodstream, leaving him faint and breathless. He can feel the warmth of the stove, taste the intoxicatingly delicious curry and hear the gentle bubbling of freshly-brewing coffee; he can smell the musky, earthy aromas of the old, tired café, hear the jingle of the doorbell as it chimes to announce a new customer...

"Yeah. I want to go home."

The Prosecutor nods encouragingly. Akira manages to close the gap between them, and follows Sae down to the end of the alleyway. 'Just think about Sojiro's curry. And bed.' Sae hurries ahead and clicks a button on her carkeys; The headlamps burst into life and the doors unlock. She tugs the back door open just as Akira makes it to the junction. Sae holds up a hand in warning before he can step into clear view of the streetlights, making one final sweep of the faces in the crowds: Nobody she recognises - nobody has even glanced in her direction. Sae steps to one side, giving the kid room to clamber gratefully onto the back seat. She checks he is seated comfortably (although slumped would probably be more accurate) and slams the door closed.

Half a minute later, she is belted in and peeling away from the sidewalk at a speed unsuitable for a woman of the law. As she pulls up at a set of traffic lights with a touch more momentum than usual, the prosecutor in her warns her to stick to the speed limits so as to prevent drawing unnecessary attention to themselves. The irrational side of her wants to tell the prosecutor in her to piss off. With a hurried glance in her mirror, she notices Kurusu's eyes slipping closed.

"Hey, Kurusu-kun!" she barks, "don't fall asleep until we reach our destination." He blinks awake, but his eyes are unfocused and his head is slumping against the headrest. "Are you listening?"

"Niijima-san," he responds, quietly, eyes on her but not quite seeing her. Sae knows she should be focused on the road ahead, but she can't draw her eyes away from him. It looks like he wants to say something - his mouth is working but words are not forming. A quick glance forward, then back to the mirror. He sighs. "Thank you," he manages, with a small shrug, "y'know, for helping me."

Her eyebrows raise in surprise. "Don't mention it," she answers, glancing at the traffic ahead for a moment before looking back at him, once again. "Just stay awake for me. You can't sleep yet." She shifts gears and floors the gas pedal. "Just a little longer. You're almost home."

"Home," he sighs, exhausted. 'I'm glad.' His eyelids are heavy. They're closing against his will, but Sae told him to stay awake...

Reluctantly, he prises them open, but he's not in the back of Sae's car, anymore. 'Oh, come on, this isn't fair...'

Dripping walls, metal bars, a rock-hard moth-eaten mattress, that unmistakable chill... he's most definitely not mentally prepared for this.

Igor is grinning like a chesire cat. The twins are eyeing him dubiously. Caroline whacks her baton against the cell bars and Akira moans as the sound reverberates through his skull. "Get up, Inmate! Our Master wants to speak with you!"

Akira swings his legs over the cot and makes to stand, but he can't quite convince his legs to take his weight. Head in his hands, he rubs his eyes with his palms and shakes his head. "Can't," he whispers.

Caroline whacks the bars again and Akira jumps.

"We have asked you to stand," adds Justine, calmly, "I do advise against disobeying."

Akira can't contain a growl of annoyance, but he drags himself to his feet, regardless. The lead weight shackled around his ankle has never felt so heavy. He can barely pull himself to the cell bars, let alone the huge ball attached to him. His hands are shackled. 'Not again...' For one mad moment, he is back in the interrogation room with the Detectives and the handcuffs that have left his wrists red-raw. He glances down at them with his heart in his throat, not quite believing they are in front of him, even though he knows they're right there. And indeed, there they are, chafed, bruised and shackled, but at least these chains allow him to move his arms...

"My, my. You have done well," Igor greets, spindly fingers tapping on the tabletop. "I am astonished by how quickly your rehabilitation is progressing. Indeed, you are a remarkable individual."

Caroline stares at him in awe. "Such high words of praise... you should be honoured, Inmate!"

Akira knows he should be giving Igor his undivided attention, but at this point he's just trying to remain upright. Caroline whacks her baton against the bars yet again, millimetres away from bashing his knuckles.

"Stand up straight!"

Akira scowls at her, stretched beyond his wits end. 'One more comment, I dare you. Just one more.'

"Easy, Caroline," Justine consoles, raising a hand in warning. "The Inmate has had a very trying day. A lot has happened to him."

Igor nods in agreement. "A very trying day, indeed. You have been arrested and subjected to intense torture. You've been forced to relive a significant portion of your events over the previous eight months and managed to trick another Persona-user into believing you have met your untimely demise. Yes, you must be ever so tired," he adds, grinning.

Akira frowns, but says nothing. 'Is it just my imagination, or does Igor seem a little too entertained by all this?'

"You have developed a number of useful skills under my tuition. But there is much still to learn."

Overwhelming despair seeps into every pore. "What more do you want from me?" he pleads, legs trembling with the effort of remaining upright. The chains are rattling and his knuckles are white from gripping the bars. "What am I supposed to do?"

"It will all become clear to you," Igor declares mysteriously. Akira wants to cry in frustration, but bites his tongue. "Patience. You're rehabilitation has progressed smoothly thus far, and I have high hopes of you completing it very successfully in due time."

The prison bell tolls - Time's up.

"No," Akira murmurs, legs giving way as an overwhelming weariness washes over him. He clatters to the floor still hugging the bars in desperation, knees throbbing as they take yet another harsh impact, "I don't understand, just tell me what the end goal is. I have to know why..."

"Next time, Inmate," Justine offers.

"Our Master will bestow his wisdom upon you when he is good and ready," Caroline adds, although she seems to have deflated, somewhat. She looks almost... unsure?

"Use this time to focus on further developing your bonds with your confidants. The next time we speak, I will have a great deal more information to offer you."

The cell is fading from view and Akira's mind feels thick and heavy, like he's trying to wade through quicksand. Igor's grin follows him into reality, burned across his vision, mocking and unforgettable.

He's suddenly uncomfortably aware of just how wet and cold he is. The torn and dirty prison garb has disappeared; an equally torn and bloody uniform replacing it. He's moving but he's not moving at the same time, and the motion's causing his stomach to churn uncomfortably. Lights speed past at eye-level and blur into one another. He groans.

'What else can Igor possibly want from me? What more do I have to give?'

"We're here," Sae announces, the soft click-click of the indicator emphasising their imminent arrival. The car pulls in and jerks to a halt. Akira, off-balance, grunts as his forehead hits the back of the seat in front of him. "Just hold on a moment," she adds as she hurries out of the car and disappears down the side-street toward Leblanc.

Absolute silence surrounds Akira for the first time in hours; he can clearly hear his own laboured breaths, the thumping of his heart against his chest, the pounding in his ears... his eyes are slipping closed again...

Akira jumps as the door opens and a rush of cold night air sweeps in, gasping at the sudden drop in temperature. Sae offers a hand. This time, Akira accepts; his legs are like jelly, so any help is a godsend. She gently guides him out of the car and down the alley to the café, gripping him firmly by the upper arm; he wants to tell her it's too tight a grip but his voice has deserted him, so he doesn't.

And suddenly, finally, he's safe. The bell chimes as they push through the door. It's as warm and inviting as he'd expected it to be.

Heavenly scents and a hugging warmth wash over him... there's a shout of surprise and the chink of porcelain hitting the ground... he spots Sojiro standing behind the bar, a tea-towel forgotten in his hand... and with that, Akira is done - his knees are trembling, his head is foggy and he's unconsciously crossed his arms over his chest in desperate need of comfort and warmth. Joker thinks he must look pathetic, stood shivering in the doorway with a quivering lip, but Akira just can't find it in himself to care. His hair and clothes are dripping rainwater onto the floor; Sojiro's going to be mad at him for making a mess...

"Good God! What on earth have they done to him?"

Akira thinks he should move further into the café, but his feet are rooted to the floor.

Sae is speaking next to him, probably answering Sojiro's question. He can feel the tenor of her words rise up his arm, but their meaning just isn't making it through to his brain.

The curry smells delicious and he's thinking about the last time he ate. He isn't certain, but it was probably before they entered Sae's palace - 'a lifetime ago, now.' He knows he should probably try to eat something but nausea is building again and he fears it would not end well...

Sae and Sojiro keep glancing at him, they're voices low and deadly serious. They keep shooting him pitiful looks. She's still holding his arm. It's starting to go numb.

No, it's not... she's let go...

Sojiro's abandoned his post and is now stood at Akira's side. Sae's hastily retreating out the doorway. 'What's she saying? I need to listen...'

"- round tomorrow afternoon to discuss a few things with you. But for now, please, just get some rest, Kurusu-kun. You really do not look well at all."

"Don't feel it," he replies, half-smiling. "Thank you, Niijima-san." It's so sincere, he almost wants to cry. But he won't. He won't, damnit.

"Please, no more gratitude. I can't help but feel a little bad about our intense interrogation. I guess I've added a great deal more stress to your already stressful situation, and you've handled it all so well. If anything, I should be thanking you for helping me finally understand who is behind these mental shutdowns. And thank you for changing my heart. I would never have believed all this was possible if you had not opened my eyes to what was truly happening within me. My sister was right; you are remarkable. But please, we can talk more tomorrow. Rest, now."

There's a lump in Akira's throat, so he simply nods as she smiles and let's the door swing closed behind her.

A moment of silence passes between the café's remaining occupants.

Sojiro doesn't know what to say. Akira hasn't the mental capacity to say anything.

And then...

"You're dripping water all over the place. If someone trips up and sues me, you're paying for their medical bills."

Sojiro's tone is deadpan, his face unreadable - Akira is momentarily stunned. And then, he can't help but laugh. 'I'm home.'

Sojiro chuckles softly too, but his eyes hold no humour. He's silently checklisting everything about the young man stood beside him; pale complexion, tremors, bruises, puncture marks?!, the sweat beading on his forehead and the way he's favouring his left leg over his right...

"Come on, kid. I've got some pain relief around here somewhere. I'll make you a cup of hot sweet tea and pull out my thickest winter blanket. Just for tonight, mind. Don't want you telling everyone I'm going soft, now." He winks at Akira but the kid doesn't catch it. He's too busy yawning. "You need to hurry along and get yourself showered and up to bed. Are you hungry? Should I make you something?"

'Yes.' "No, it's okay."

Sojiro frowns, but nods. "'Kay. Well, shower and bed. Off you go."

Akira looks over his shoulder at the doorway, despairingly. The baths are right there! Directly opposite the café... he knows it would do him the world of good, he knows he needs the warmth... but at this point, the baths might as well be on the other side of Tokyo...

"I don't think I can," Akira whispers. He's ashamed to admit it, but he's completely drained.

Sojiro nods in understanding. No shower, then. He knows his Charge has a temperature, and it's worrying him a great deal. But for tonight, he'll let the kid sleep. They could deal with everything else in the morning.

"Off up to bed with you. I'll be along in a few minutes."

Akira nods, but doesn't move.

Sojiro busies himself with the kettle; fills it at the sink and lights the stove.

"In you're own time," he calls, smirking.

"Yup, I'm going. Right now."

As Sojiro stoops down to retrieve the box of tea leaves from underneath the counter, he realises the kid's still standing there, eyes half-closed, arms wrapped around himself. He taps a teaspoon on the counter, frowning.

Akira blinks his eyes open at the sound, running a trembling hand across his face. He needs to get to bed, but now that he's stopped and his heart-rate has slowed to normalcy, he just cannot persuade his legs to carry him to the stairs. And besides, the door frame is holding him up so efficiently, it seems daft to step away from it at all...

"Honestly, kid, you look like a drowned rat. Stood there, swaying in the doorway, you're making the place look untidy. At least go and change out of those wet clothes," Sojiro tries as the kettle begins to hiss angrily.

'Now that you mention it...'

He's cold. And still wet. And his head hurts.

He's upstairs and changed into his nightclothes before he even realises what's happened.

With a heavy sigh, he flops onto the bed. 'Mistake. You're never going to get back up, now.' Everything is blurring at the edges, and his brain feels like it's been trampled by a steamroller. "Oww," he whispers, miserably. He can feel a sting developing at the corners of his eyes. 'No,' Joker tries to tell himself. 'You're fine. You're safe. Everything worked out exactly as we planned it would. You just need some sleep, that's all.' Akira doesn't believe it.

Sojiro coughs gently to announce his presence and his Charge can't help but smile at the consideration.

"Here," he says kindly, offering a steaming mug to him. "Drink this. We'll deal with everything else in the morning."

Akira takes a moment to inhale the sweet, sticky fragrance, to absorb the tingling warmth through his frozen fingertips, before taking a tentative sip of the mug's contents. He sighs delightedly as the sweet, hot substance trickles down his throat and for the first time in two days, he feels like himself.

Sojiro is respectfully silent for a while, just watching.

"Where's Morgana?"

"With Futaba."

"Good." Akira nods. He takes another sip. The tea's delightful warmth is making him feel dizzy with need. He is almost inhaling it, wishing it would stop his teeth from chattering. "Do they -?"

"- No, not yet. No-one knows. Unless you want me to -?"

"No!" Akira cries out, surprising the both of them. He can't keep the blush from spreading across his cheeks at the outburst that is so unlike him. "I-I mean... s-sorry, I don't ... I just want to sleep, I don't want them to..."

'Don't want them to, what? Fuss? Worry? Probably already doing that,' he realises. 'You're just being selfish.' He lowers his gaze, suddenly angry at the trouble he's caused everyone, and ashamed of the tears that are welling again. He swats at them in frustration, a motion so pathetic, he can no longer bring himself to look Sojiro in the eye.

"Akira... it's okay," Sojiro murmurs, softly, resting a tentative hand against the boy's trembling knee in an uncharacteristically gentle -almost fatherly- gesture of support. The words Sojiro wants to say hang unspoken in the air: 'It's okay to be scared. It's okay to cry. It's okay to ask for help.' The lump from earlier has reformed in Akira's throat; and it's doubled in size. He can no longer form words, nor can he prevent the inevitable floodgates of emotion from bursting forth. Sojiro meets his watery gaze with a gentle smile. "You're safe now. I promise."

Akira can only nod.

Sojiro clears his throat and removes his hand: Akira finds himself wishing he would put it back. It feels as though an anchor has been released and he's been cut loose amidst a thunderstorm. "Relax, kid. I'll tell Futaba you're safe so they don't need to worry. They will no doubt be round to check on you in the morning."

Akira wants to say thank you but he has lost all ability to form a coherent thought, let alone communicate it. He hopes Soijro knows what he is trying to express - of course he does; Sojiro knows everything.

The kid can no longer fight the waves of utter exhaustion that are sapping the last remnants of his strength. The mug is tipping slightly. He can feel his fingertips losing their grip but hasn't the energy to strengthen his hold. His eyelids are heavy... his head...

Sojiro's taken the mug, turned out the lights and whispered a gruff 'goodnight' before Akira's head has even hit the pillow.

Author's Note: More to come... *hides*