Disclaimer: I don't own Psychonauts!

Title: Oh, Mamma-Milla

Summary: A mental interrogation goes off the rails when Raz gets hurt. Milla shows Gristol who he should've feared all along.

Warnings: Vague descriptions of injuries.

...

Raz clutches at Sasha's old jacket with a wet gasp. Milla gently helped him into a sitting position, ignoring the shaking of her fingers. Crackles of green skittered across his form- layers of subconscious being stripped away. Raz pulled his goggles up and forced his lip not to quiver as his hand wrapped around the metal shard lodged in his side.

"I'm sorry," he whispers, voice cracking. He is, after all, but a child. "I got cocky."

"Shh shh shh." Milla gently rubbed circles into his back. "It's okay, darling. Wake up and regain your health. Sasha and I can handle this."

"But-" he started to argue, to say something he probably would think brave, but Milla has seen enough agents risk their own health trying to keep going while their projection was wounded. She cracked her smelling salts under Raz's nose and watched him slowly fade away. The metal hit the floor with a clank. The warmth left Milla with him.

"Camilla," Sasha says, finally, as she stands. It's not every day he breaks out the full name. But he can see into the darkest corners of her mind, and though he has never, ever been afraid of her, it's still a heavy force. "Are you sure you won't regret this?"

She shakes her head, still smiling a little. "Go tend to Razputin, darling."

Sasha opens his mouth to argue, but the waves that pulse from within her has him clacking his jaw shut. He pops his smelling salts and leaves.

Then it's just her, and Malik.

Gristol hadn't fared much better in the explosion of an interrogation, having been thrown far to the side. He was only just now standing up, dusting himself off with impudence. This was his mind, after all. He was the strongest object in it.

He looked around and clucked his tongue. "Aw. Did the little Grulovian boy leave? He was the only one half-decent to talk to." He chuckled a little. "Half-decent. Ha. Just like his blood."

"Gristol," said Milla, with a hint of sugary sweetness. "Do you know what my specialty is?"

Malik scoffed and flapped his hand. "Yes, yes, levitation. What're you gonna do? Throw some bubbles at me?"

"Not quite, darling. Levitation is a hobby of mine." She tapped her skull, and suddenly the room was full of fire and screaming. "No, Gristol. My specialty is madness."

Surprised, he stumbled backwards, just shy of falling into the flames. "What? You can't just- no one can specialize in not having their sanity."

"You're getting warmer," she said, closing in with that same little smile. "I've learned to contain it, darling. Keep it safely put away. To weaponize it." She calmly raised her hand towards the flames. "Would you like to see what happens to a psychic whose powers are woken by death?"

"You're bluffing," he said, but she could see the fear in his eyes.

"Ah, darling," she tsked. "They're so very hungry."

One by one, Nightmares burst from the ashes, their wicked horns and teeth gnashing. They twisted around each other like snakes wanting to keep warm. Each of them bellowed and screeched in different, child-like voices. Save us, Milla! Why did you let us die, Milla? Why did you love another child, Milla? Will you kill him like you did us, Milla?

Gristol yelped and scooted back, only to be met with scales and claws. "Stop- stop it!" he demanded. "I'll tell you anything you want to know! No more brain games. Just stop them."

Milla smiled, but her voice was flat and cold. "No."

Author's Note: Another one from Tumblr I felt could be cross-posted! I'm just constantly thinking about how Milla just has a bit of contained madness inside her. Like she has every right to have it, jesus christ her backstory is horrific, but it's just. There. And she could let it out like pandora's box if she felt she had to.

-Mandaree1