Notes:

This chapter is mainly some filler fluff/angst, but here are trigger warnings regardless :)

Trigger Warnings:

-descriptions of dissociation

-mentions of torture

-scars

When Aizawa had finally woken up after his meeting with Overhaul, Izuku broke down crying. He tried so hard not to; 'Zawa needed support, he didn't need a sobbing child to take care of. But try as Izuku might, he couldn't hold back his tears when dark, dull eyes met his worried gaze. It was like there was nothing in them. They were a pool of spilt ink, a seemingly endless chasm of pitch black that would consume you if you stared for too long.

Izuku pulled Aizawa into a loose hug, wary of his injuries, after he had helped him into a sitting position. He had never seen Aizawa like this. He was like a shell of a man. Not responding to Izuku's questions or touches, not seeming to even notice that Izuku was there.

While he cried, Izuku talked to Aizawa.

Izuku was no stranger to dissociation. He remembered, in the months before Aizawa arrived, how after every session with the Doctor he would enter a state of being that felt so, so far away. The world would fade into the background and all that would be left was a faint buzzing. He was aware of what was going on around him, but couldn't seem to bring himself to break out of that fuzzy state of mind. Everything was dull and gray, and his focus was nonexistent.

He figured that was what Aizawa was going through right now. Most likely, it was his brain's way of coping with what Overhaul had put him through. So, Izuku cried. He cried, and he held his hero. He braided his hair and whispered to him about heroes and cats and his favorite segments on Present Mic's radio show. He rambled on about anything his brain could latch onto. Unfortunately for Aizawa (who Izuku wasn't sure could even hear him), Izuku had a plethora of knowledge on micro and macroeconomics. It made for some very dry filler. Honestly, Izuku was just scared of the silence. He was worried that if he were to stop talking, Aizawa would slip deeper into himself and never return.

So Izuku talked. And cried. He sat with his hero in the dark cell -the lightbulb was still broken, and the only source of light was the faint flickering from underneath the cell's door- and tried not to completely lose his mind.

It took almost two hours for Aizawa to break out of his state of dissociation.

As Izuku was talking about Vertical Integration (he was seriously running out of things to talk about) he could feel Aizawa stir slightly beside him. Izuku stopped talking. He was still positioned next to Aizawa, having moved to share the bunk bed mattress with him so he could support his weight and make sure he didn't strain his injuries. He moved to retract his arm from the man's shoulders now that he seemed to be coming to, but a trembling hand stopped him in the process.

"'Zawa? Are… are you… can you hear me?" Izuku's voice kept breaking, fear and worry evident in his tone. He studied Aizawa's face closely. His eyes held more life in them than before, although he didn't seem to be very aware of his surroundings.

"...Kid?" Aizawa's voice was barely a croak. It wasn't the usual gruff, emotionless voice that Izuku had come to associate with the underground hero. That one word was full of vulnerability, spoken quietly and despondently, as if worried that Izuku was merely a figment of his imagination. It tore Izuku's heart to pieces to hear the man, 'Zawa, his 'Zawa, so utterly broken.

"I'm-I'm here, 'Zawa," Izuku's voice broke with a sob, "I'm here." Izuku pulled Aizawa closer, almost cradling the man in his arms as they both sat on the flimsy mattress, sorrow thick and heavy in the air.

Izuku just held his hero as Aizawa's shoulders trembled. He didn't say anything when he felt teardrops land on his skin, soaking into the cloth of his shirt. He didn't say anything to discourage Aizawa's grip on his forearm, a wavering hold that screamed don't leave me. He didn't ask about what had happened, or if Aizawa was okay. Instead, he sat quietly, arms circled around Aizawa in a protective embrace as the man cried.

Aizawa had always been Izuku's knight. But his armor had been stripped and his shield had been destroyed. He had seen war and it had broken him. He had nothing to protect him now, no shield to brandish and no horse to ride into battle.

Izuku vowed to be his armor tonight. He promised to hold him, to shield him.

He couldn't rebuild the fortress that Shouta Aizawa had carefully constructed, but he could stand guard while the man picked up the pieces.

It took a long time for Aizawa to return back to his normal state of self. Neither he nor Izuku spoke of that day for a while, at least two weeks. Until one morning, it was brought up.

"You did what?" Aizawa's voice was cold and sharp. It was his teacher voice, the one that demanded attention and respect. Izuku flinched at the accusing tone. The underground hero had asked why Overhaul had left so suddenly, why he had been returned to the cell early, and wouldn't let Izuku skip out on answering his questions this time. Izuku was greatly regretting telling the man what happened, even if he didn't regret his actions one bit.

"I-I, I woke up and you were gone, 'Zawa, and I knew that they had taken you, and I knew that it had to be Overhaul, and I was so scared, 'Zawa, and I didn't want them to hurt you because I know what it feels like and- and it worked! They stopped, they stopped hurting you!" Izuku's voice was shaking and his eyes were watery. Aizawa only fixed him with a calculating gaze, his unforgiving eyes making Izuku squirm out of guilt and shame.

"So you decide to draw the attention of a criminal mastermind, a literal murderer, instead? By threatening to kill yourself. Is that it? Did I get that part right?" Aizawa's voice was still quiet; he wasn't yelling, but Izuku almost wished he was. He knew how to deal with people yelling at him. He didn't know how to deal with the quiet disappointment that was being aimed at him now.

"That's, that's not-" Izuku struggled to find the words to properly convey what he was feeling. Aizawa just stared at him, expectant, waiting for some kind of explanation. Izuku scrunched up his face tightly. This was not easy. "I knew they wouldn't kill me because I'm important, but it was the only leverage I had. I-I know it was risky, but it was worth it! You're safe and Overhaul didn't hurt you after that!" Dark green eyes peered up at Aizawa pleadingly, now spilling over with tears. Aizawa's glare softened slightly, but he relented.

"Izuku, he could have hurt you. Hell, he could have killed you. That man is unstable and very quick to anger. Your life is important. I appreciate you trying to look out for me, but this isn't the way to do it."

Izuku seemed to only cry harder at this. His brows were furrowed in frustration. "But, but h-how else do I stop them from hurting you!? 'Zawa, it worked! You're right, my life is important - to them. Which means they're not going to kill me-"

"I'm going to stop you right there."

Izuku clamped his mouth shut. Aizawa's tone was harder, almost dangerous now. It didn't scare Izuku, but it shook him out of his emotional fog.

"Under no circumstance will you ever, ever try something like that again. Got it?"

Izuku opened his mouth to protest, but was cut off once again.

"No, you don't get to refuse, Izuku. You're still a child. I won't have you put yourself in harm's way for my sake. I'm a hero. This is my job. I'm not going to ask again. Do you understand?"

"...Yes." Izuku's voice was quiet, and he turned his eyes down to the floor. He wanted to hide away somewhere, wanted to curse and shout and cry because it just wasn't fair.

"Kid… look, I'm not mad at you."

At that, Izuku's head shot up. His eyes scrunched and he tilted his head in confusion. "You- you're not?"

Aizawa sighed. A pool of guilt formed in his gut; maybe he was too harsh. He just needed Izuku to be safe. He couldn't encourage that kind of reckless behavior.

"No. I'm upset, but I'm not mad at you. Listen: I don't want you hurting yourself or risking your life for me. It's dangerous. I don't want to lose you." Aizawa's eyes were warmer now, and his shoulders slumped. He looked tired.

Izuku sniffled. He hadn't meant to worry the hero. He really just wanted to help. "I'm sorry, 'Zawa."

"Kid, don't apologize. It's not your fault we're in this mess. Just… be careful." His voice cracked. "Okay?"

Izuku nodded. Moving quickly, he launched himself forwards into Aizawa's arms. He snuggled his head into the man's neck, wrapping his tiny, scarred hands around the hero's shoulders. Aizawa chuckled, now used to Izuku's constant hugging. He patted the kid's head, holding him in a warm embrace. After a moment, Izuku pulled away, cheeks flushed. He didn't apologize (Aizawa was trying to work that bad habit out of him), but he looked like he wanted to.

"Now come on, how about we train for a little?"

Izuku's eyes lit up, and he scrubbed his face with his hands to get rid of the remaining tears and snot, nodding enthusiastically.

Aizawa really wanted to ask who had taught him that his life was so indispensable, but he knew better than to push even further than he already had. It angered him that Izuku was so quick to put himself in danger, and it made him even more upset that Izuku didn't understand why it was so wrong. He only hoped that, with time, he could instill a sense of self-worth into the kid. Being in a prison cell wasn't helping. He shook his head to clear it - he had promised to train the kid.

And so, the pair trained; Izuku had since progressed from the basics and was now learning more offensive maneuvers. Honestly, Aizawa was impressed with how quickly he was able to pick up on things. When he first started instructing Izuku, about a month and a half prior, Izuku could barely last thirty seconds before being knocked flat on his ass while sparring. Now, he could last a solid few minutes against Aizawa. He was no pro, that was undeniable, but his skill wasn't to be underestimated.

Since Overhaul had last visited, Izuku and Aizawa were left untouched by the Doctor. The only sign that the facility hadn't been completely abandoned was the food still being slid under their cell door twice a day during that stretch of time. It was odd, unsettling. Something was going to happen, and Aizawa wasn't sure what. But they didn't take the time for granted. He and Izuku used it to grow stronger, to train, and to plan.

As it was, the plan was still in its beginning stages. There were simply so many unknowns.

Aizawa figured that if he could get past the guards and avoid Overhaul, he would be in the clear. The Doctor couldn't really do anything - his quirk wasn't combat based, and the man was pretty scrawny. The guards, however, proved more difficult. They were almost the size of All Might; full of muscle and built like brick walls. If he had to fight them, quirk or no, Aizawa wasn't sure he could win. That didn't even account for Overhaul, or the facility itself. Without a map, there was no way escaping was possible. Unless they could find a phone and call for backup, there wasn't much that could be done.

That didn't stop Izuku and Aizawa from planning, though. Ideas to get more information were sprung back and forth, as well as possible escape routes (vents, windows, sewers, and so on). All they needed was to bide their time wisely and hope that they weren't killed before they could get out. It wasn't a pleasant thought, but it served to be a decent motivator.

Aizawa glanced over idly at Izuku, the boy currently doing some stretches after one of their sparring sessions. His skin shone with a thin layer of sweat, and his eyes were sharp and concentrated. He had seen that look in the eyes of underground heroes and villains; it was a look that could see right through you, eyes that could tear you apart in a single glance. It was never a look he had seen in the eyes of a child. Until now, of course.

Sensing somehow that he was being observed, Izuku met Aizawa's stare and smiled. It was bright and genuine, and it knocked the wind from Aizawa's lungs. He could only manage a nod back at the kid, who returned to his stretching.

Izuku had changed in the several months that Aizawa had come to know him. He was still small, but he had gained a little muscle from their training. He had also gained far too many scars from his 'visits' with Overhaul and the Doctor. His entire body was covered in them, pinkish-white lines swirling around his pale skin, depicting an almost mosaic of agony. His dark green hair was past his shoulders at this point and could be mistaken for black in the dark. His old doe-like eyes were less wide and trusting, now narrowed and darkened in constant suspicion. Freckles still painted his face, but any remnant of baby fat was long gone, replaced with a gauntness that spoke of malnourishment. Although both Izuku and Aizawa were being fed, it was far from enough to support anyone long-term, let alone a growing child.

Aizawa missed the hope that Izuku had held before. Izuku was far from hopeless, but the hero could tell that Izuku was getting tired. The light in his eyes only ever grew darker now, and his smiles came slower and less frequently. The boy's kindness never wavered, though. No, Aizawa knew that behind the newly constructed walls of defense the kid had been building was a warm and gentle soul, still yearning to be the hero that no one had ever bothered to be for himself.

He could only pray that Izuku would make it out of this with some shred of his spirit intact.

Unfortunately for Shouta Aizawa, God seemed to have other plans in mind