Another short snippet I suddenly felt like writing. I hope you'll like it, let me know what you think!
Warnings: Depiction of injuries; temporary death
Summary: Coming back after temporary death isn't a pleasant experience. Canada's two concerned brothers help.
Another Breath
He was floating in the void. It was soft, comforting, hugging him like a warm blanket. Shielding him from any perception. In the void, there was peace.
But peace never lasted.
A twitch shook his body from head to toe. Another blessed moment of a calm – and everything came rushing in with a red burst of agony as his lungs spasmed. His first breath tasted like dust and blood, the air too heavy. He found himself coughing and gagging as the pain ate every nerve and cell of his body.
For a moment, it was all he could process. Pain and a deep, deep burning. Ringing and screaming and steps and voices mingling all around him, too far to discriminate the single ones.
"Holy shi—"
"Don't panic!"
He vaguely felt his body being moved to a side as a thick liquid surged in his throat and then pooled at the corners of his mouth. The metallic taste almost suffocated him, but he kept retching and spasming instead, waves after waves of pain washing over him.
And all the while, fingers dug firmly against his shoulder. The only stable anchor in that muddy haze of agony and confusion.
"It's going to be all right," a voice repeated over and over, "You need to relax. It's going to pass soon."
That forceful calmness was soothing, grounding. Even when the ringing in his ears threatened to drown it, he desperately clung to that voice and rode down the waves of pain, inhaling dirt and smoke and iron.
The agony was so all-encompassing that he couldn't truly believe it would ever end – but bit by bit, it did. It started receding from his limbs to settle into a steady burning inside his guts. He could almost feel his organs starting the fight against gastric acids and knitting together. He tried to raise a hand and clutch his stomach, but he could barely manage a twitch of fingers against the dirt. His muscles were heavy and useless, pervaded by the weakness he knew all too well.
And oh if only he could let himself fade away…
But the hands were still there. One clutching his shoulder, with the thumb drawing small, soothing circles; the other, threading across his hair before cupping his cheek.
"Matthew. It's all right, Matthew. You're going to be all right," the voice was saying now.
Still as gentle, yet, he could discern the carefully-hidden edge of panic now. It was time to go back.
Bracing himself against the pain, he took the deepest breath he could muster before spitting out the last slimy residues of blood coating his mouth.
"Arthur," was all he could muster, still too weak and dazed for giving more than a single sign of awareness. His abdomen was hurting too badly for him to think.
There was a sharp intake of breath above him, the hand on his shoulder tightened in recognition.
"Matthew! Are you—"
"Mattie!"
It was almost more of a sob than a yell. It tore through everything, its echo so strong that for a moment, Matthew once again lost contact with his surroundings.
"Alfred, be careful!"
When he came back, two additional hands rested on his person – twitchy, trembling fingers patting down his face and side in an obvious search for injuries. Their unusual lack of confidence hurt almost as much as the physical pain.
It really is high time for you to go back.
When he opened his eyes, his brother's pale, tear-streaked face welcomed him.
"Hi," Matthew said.
Somewhere in the floaty void above him, Arthur started fretting – on how he needed to be careful, on the entity of the injuries that still needed healing, on… Matthew didn't have enough strength to focus on that. Instead, he kept his eyes trained on his brother's face and witnessed his lips opening up into a small smile.
"Welcome back," Alfred said in a soft voice.
Every breath still hurt like the slash of a knife. With each crumble of awareness, the pain intensified.
…But he could see his brothers' faces and hear their voices.
It was good to be back.
(word count: 688)