Prism awoke slowly, coming up from a groggy, uneasy sleep to painful consciousness. He groaned as he shifted his body. His entire body ached to a degree that he'd never experienced before. None of his panic attacks had ever made him feel like this, so what had happened? His eyelids flickered open, and he was assaulted with blinding light. He flinched and blinked rapidly, willing the light to dim.
Everything settled into place slowly, and he knew by the flickering shadows that it was candlelight. He must be on the Moon Clipper. The light wasn't actually that bright, and he took in a breath as his stinging eyes adjusted. A tight feeling across his chest and around his arms confused him. Was he wrapped in blankets? Before he could figure out what was going on, a voice spoke.
"Stupid of ya, mate."
"Bunnymund?" Prism croaked, turning his head to look for the Pooka. He sat in a chair by Prism's bed, surrounded by cartons of eggs. He had a half-painted egg in his fingers, delicate and beautiful with an intricate multicolored design. Prism tried to take in the words, but he was sluggish. He hurt so badly! What had happened?
Bunnymund could see he was having trouble thinking, so he set aside the egg and magic paintbrush and poured a glass of water, placing it on the nightstand. He stood up and grabbed Prism under his arms, heaving him into a sitting position and adjusting the pillows to support him. Prism's head swam with pain and discomfort, and he shuddered from head to foot, gasping in a breath.
"Easy, mate," Bunnymund soothed, keeping him steady. "You've gotta be in a world of hurt."
"Yeah," Prism hissed through clenched teeth. Every movement hurt so badly. "What happened?" he grated through a throat so raw it felt as though sandpaper had been liberally applied.
"Got hit by a truck," Bunnymund said. "Here take a drink."
Drinking the cool water felt like swallowing fire, and Prism nearly choked as tears bubbled in his eyes. He sobbed, pushing away the glass.
"Can't!"
"What's wrong?" Bunnymund asked.
Prism raised his aching arm and touched his trembling hand to his throat. "Hurts."
"Throat. Right. That'd be from the screaming. Hang on," Bunnymund said.
The Pooka set aside the water and reached over to Prism's desk and picked up a booklet. He flipped through the pages, and Prism's sharp eyes saw Lunar's handwriting. It was definitely English, but he couldn't make out the words as Bunnymund flipped through the book.
"What kind of pain?" Bunnymund asked, pausing on a page.
Prism immediately realized it was a crafting book for medicine. "Raw."
"Sounds grating. Is it cold or hot?" Bunnymund asked.
"Feels like fire."
Bunnymund nodded and scanned the ingredients. He set the book on the work table and began to gather what he needed. All of the ingredients were in bowls and vials and all carefully labeled in Lunar's best handwriting. Bunnymund moved slowly, checking and double-checking the ingredients and the recipe in the book before adding them to a large bowl. When he was done, a thick yellow paste was the result. Prism recognized it as a soothing balm. The Pooka studied the book.
"That's right," Prism rasped. "It's done."
"Good. Not used to working with this stuff. Says you should take a mouthful every hour while awake."
Prism nodded. He attempted to grasp the empty spoon that Bunnymund held out, but his fingers wouldn't cooperate. Bunnymund clicked his tongue.
"Just let me do it," he said gently.
Prism lowered his arm and nodded tiredly. Even that small movement hurt. Bunnymund spooned up some of the paste and held it up to Prism's lips. Bunnymund smirked.
"Time to take your medicine, sport," he teased in a perfectly posh British accent.
Prism smiled. "If you say so, mother," he said, adopting the same accent. "I do hope it's cherry."
Bunnymund snorted then burst out laughing. Prism grinned and took the spoon in his mouth. The paste tasted sweet and good, and its soothing effects started the moment he swallowed. While the water had been like fire, this was the most refreshing sensation in the world. The raw feeling diminished, and he could feel the paste coating his throat. He sighed, relaxing into his pillow.
"I'll take the water now," he said, his voice sounding less scratchy.
"Can you drink after taking it?" Bunnymund asked, reaching for the book again.
"The Retanim Slime is resistant to liquids," Prism replied. "It's fine."
"Which one is that?" Bunnymund asked, scanning the vials.
"It's the pink crystals. You have to dry it and crush it to use it in the medicine."
"Hm. Good to know. This other planet stuff is confusing."
He helped Prism to take a long drink, and this time the water was cool and good. Prism let his head lounge on the pillows.
"Guess you were right," he said idly.
"About?" Bunnymund sat down in his chair.
"Me being stupid. Can't believe I got hit by a truck. How did that even happen?"
Bunnymund's ears slicked back, and he quickly reached up to smooth down the soft fur on the sleek surface.
"You stopped the truck from hitting Jackson."
Prism frowned, then he gasped as the memory flooded through him. "Is he okay?" he demanded, sitting bolt upright despite his protesting body.
"Calm down, Prism," Bunnymund said. "Jackson's fine. He only had some skinned knees."
"Are you sure?"
"Yes. Jack went down to check after we patched you up."
Prism frowned. "Why do you think it's stupid of me to get hit by a truck if I'm saving a child's life?"
"That's not why you're stupid," Bunnymund said. He pointed at Prism's chest. "That is why you're stupid. Thinking you could keep it from us. MiM isn't happy. None of us are."
A chill went down Prism's spine, and he slowly lowered his gaze to his chest. The tight feeling around his arms and chest was bandages. All the color drained out of his face and he stopped breathing. His body seized up, and every muscle protested, screaming in pain, but Prism didn't register the signals. Bunnymund sat up straight.
"Prism? Are ya gonna have another panic attack? Prism? Prism!"
Prism looked up at Bunnymund, and the Pooka froze. Tears wound down the Darkling's face, and he looked terrified. He sobbed and convulsed, reaching out beseechingly.
"I'm sorry! I'm sorry!" he gasped between sobs. "I shouldn't have lied! I should have done things differently! I'm sorry! I'm stupid, I'm an idiot, whatever you want to call me! Just don't leave me alone in the dark again! I can't stand it! Please don't leave me!"
Bunnymund was taken aback by the sudden display of emotion. Prism was usually so reserved, almost regal. It came from being raised part of his life by the Tsar and Tsarina, who had been royalty from the Golden Age. But this was unlike anything he'd ever seen from the stoic Guardian. Prism was sobbing so hard he could hardly breathe and he looked utterly terrified. Bunnymund quickly sat beside him and embraced him with one arm.
"Hey, hey, easy now," he soothed. "What's all this talk about us leavin' you? Nobody's leavin' ya."
Prism gulped in a breath, not hearing the Pooka's words. "I d-don't deserve to be a Guardian!" he moaned, doubling over. "I know th-that! But don't leave me! Please, please don't leave me! I'll do whatever you want, just don't kick me out! Y-you're my friends, right? You won't leave me alone, r-right? Please, I'll do anything to m-m-make it up to you! Just don't leave me!"
Prism gasped for breath, shaking and moaning between inhalations. Bunnymund recognized the anxiety attack for what it was. Bewildered but determined to help, he pulled Prism to his chest and ruffled his hair. Rocking him back and forth, he murmured soothing words, his gruff voice unusually gentle. Prism cried out months worth of tears for the second time in a year, clutching the blueish-grey fur and trying to calm down. The emotional storm finally died down, and he rested against Bunnymund's chest. He was so tired and he felt the aftereffects of pain from tensing his body so much as a constant ache. Bunnymund leaned back and looked down at him.
"Ya okay now?"
Prism shrugged. "Don't leave me," he begged quietly, refusing to look at the Pooka.
"I told ya we ain't gonna leave ya," Bunnymund said. He rubbed Prism's back. "And what's all this about you not deserving ta be a Guardian?"
Prism swallowed, leaning back into his pillows and staring at the ceiling. "Look at me. I'm a mess."
Bunnymund laughed. "We all are, mate."
"Gouged out your own flesh lately?" Prism muttered.
"Nah. But I used ta hate a certain somebody for a few hundred years. Not really very Guardian-like."
"Used to?" Prism asked bitterly. "That's not present tense?"
Bunnymund blinked. "Of course not! You're just fine!"
"No. I'm not. I don't want to be him anymore, but I'm slipping. I'm scared to be him again. And I'm terrified I'm already there. It's all I've thought about for months, losing all of you. Being alone again."
"Be who?" Bunnymund asked, squeezing Prism's shoulder.
"Pitch Black."
The confession rattled the Pooka. This seemed like the kind of thing Prism was supposed to tell MiM or Jack or Nightlight. But Prism was telling him. He considered what to say.
"You ain't him anymore," Bunnymund said. "Shadow Man is gone. You're free."
"No, I'm not. I have to get him out. If I don't, somebody's going to die."
Bunnymund studied Prism's downcast face, his dull eyes staring at nothing. "He's gone. You're safe with us now, mate." He paused. "Is that why you hurt yourself?"
"Something like that. I don't want him inside me anymore. But I can't think clearly in the moment."
There was a pause. Then Bunnymund tried to meet Prism's eyes.
"Why are ya telling me this? I mean, we ain't close. You seem to only want ta talk to Jack and MiM and Nightlight. You've never really tried to be friendly with the rest of us."
Prism glanced at the Pooka. "I didn't want to find out down the line that you all still hate me. I couldn't bear that."
Bunnymund mulled over this answer. "Well, that ain't gonna happen."
"I've been hurt before. Why chance it?" Prism challenged. "Besides, you all don't make much of an effort either."
That shut Bunnymund up. He thought about why that could be. "We figured you didn't want ta be our friend. But if ya do, we'll make an effort. How does that sound?"
"You shouldn't try with me. I don't deserve friends," Prism said bitterly.
And with those words, Bunnymund understood with absolute clarity that though the rest of the Guardians had forgiven him, he hadn't forgiven himself. Bunnymund, Sandy, North, and Toothiana had the chance to completely reset and redefine their relationship with Prism, Jack had the wild space adventure and forged a strong bond with Prism, and Nightlight and MiM had never stopped loving Prism through his difficult years. They were all just fine with Prism. That wasn't the problem.
Prism had to live with the actions he'd been forced to take while under Shadow Man's power. He had to remember that week of trying to destroy the Hope, Wonder, Dreams, Memories, and Fun of the children of the world with Night Mares. He had to know that he almost killed a child while trapped inside of his own mind. He was the one who got drunk on fear, who'd been drained and abused by a powerful being, who had to live every day with all of the terrible things that had happened to him and that he'd done in his moments of weakness.
"Oh, Prism," Bunnymund said, tears slipping down his furred cheeks. "You've got ta forgive yourself."
"How?" Prism asked tiredly.
Bunnymund had no easy answer. He thought for a few moments, then he nudged him.
"We'll help you if ya let us."
Prism shook his head. "Why?"
"You're our friend," Bunnymund said, smiling at Prism.
Prism didn't look any better, so Bunnymund held out his paw and flexed his fingers. A ball of gold energy, pure and beautiful beyond anything physical on Earth, formed in Bunnymund's paw. Prism looked at it with raised eyebrows. Bunnymund smiled and pressed the ball into Prism's chest.
"Have some hope, Prism. There's plenty to go around."
Prism gasped at the bright, warm feeling that flooded his veins. His heart swelled and emotion spilled from his eyes again, but this time it was positive. He felt hopeful for himself for the first time in over a year. He glanced at Bunnymund, who watched him with a pleased smile. His nose twitched and he brushed away the tears.
"Feel better, Fringe?"
This time it was Prism that burst out laughing, tears of hope still pouring from his eyes. His exposed skin flashed with rainbow light for a few moments until he calmed down. Bunnymund was pleased. Prism had never laughed for anybody except for Manny, Nightlight, and Jack.
"Fringe?" Prism asked when he'd caught his breath.
"Yep. Gonna call ya that now. Don't care if ya like it," Bunnymund said.
"Why though? Because I'm on the edge of your group?"
"No," Bunnymund said. He rolled off the bed onto his feet again and stretched. "Because you're the line between the contrast of light and dark."
Prism wiped his eyes and settled back. "Quite an obscure definition of that word," he pointed out.
"Don't matter. As long as you, me, and the other Guardians understand it, that's all that matters."
"I guess you're right," Prism adjusted his pillows to lie flat again. He was feeling all the aches and pains in his limbs again. "I don't suppose you have dreamsand?"
Bunnymund reached over and plucked up a small velvet bag. "Tired?"
"Yeah. Really tired. I need sleep."
"Alright." Bunnymund poured out a small pile but paused before giving it to Prism. "Mind if I talk to the others about all this?"
Prism smiled. "That's fine."
"Great."
Bunnymund blew the pile of sand into Prism's face, and Prism sighed as his eyelids became heavy. The Pooka sat down in his chair again and picked up the magic paintbrush and unfinished Easter egg.
"Somebody will be here when ya wake up again," Bunnymund promised.
Prism hummed in response then tumbled down into pleasant dreams. Bunnymund resumed painting the egg, thinking about everything he'd learned as he outlined a delicate rose petal in gold paint. He had a lot to parse through. But he didn't mind. He had plenty of time. Prism's well-being was a priority. And he now had more of an idea of what would help the stoic, reserved Guardian. He would share it with the others later.
The room was quiet as he worked and thought, and he glanced over occasionally to make sure Prism was having good dreams. He'd certainly been through enough. Bunnymund felt protective of the Darkling. When Prism shifted and murmured in his sleep, Bunnymund smiled. He'd help his fellow Guardian through this. Prism wasn't the only one who felt guilty about his past behavior. And this was a chance for Bunnymund to begin to make it up to him. So he considered what else he could do for Prism as the Guardian of Courage slept, dreaming good dreams, and safe and sound on the Moon Clipper.
