The room was dark, a bad sign. Lunar wasn't even glowing, which meant he was very upset. Prism stood just inside the door, scanning the room. His eyes were already adjusted to the dark space, and there were two pinpricks of light that illuminated the room for his sensitive eyes. He saw his friend sitting in his armchair, gazing at him with eyes that shone with his inner power.
"Come sit," Lunar ordered.
Prism hesitated then weaved through the furniture and perched uneasily in the armchair across from his friend. Lunar continued to stare. He said nothing as his gaze swept over the Darkling, so powerful and weighty that it was a physical sensation.
"Why?" Lunar finally asked. Prism flinched but didn't answer. So Lunar continued, his voice rising with each sentence. "Why would you not come to me? Why would you hide the damage? Why would you isolate yourself from me? Why wouldn't you talk to me about what's bothering you? Why, Prism? I thought we were past keeping secrets from each other! And yet I find out through an accidental situation that you've been hurting yourself! I had to find out from Lucy that you've been doing this for almost a year! Well? Explain!"
Prism sank lower and lower into his chair as each accusation was flung at him. He knew he couldn't deny any of them, and he was so ashamed of himself. He gritted his teeth and cringed back into the chair as Lunar gave his command for an explanation. Tears blurred his vision and he looked away, trying to come up with the words he needed to convey how sorry he was. But none came. He opened his mouth to speak and a broken sob escaped. That certainly surprised Lunar, who straightened and allowed his natural glow to light up the dark room.
Prism was up in a moment, fleeing the light and hiding behind his chair as he struggled to rein in his emotions. He couldn't bear to be seen in such a state. Hadn't he gotten all of this out with Bunnymund? Apparently not because he buried his head in his knees and sobbed. Even through his closed eyes, he could see the light getting brighter as Lunar came around the chair and knelt in front of him. A gentle hand ruffled his hair, much like the older Tsar used to do when Prism was upset when he was younger.
"You haven't run away from the light like that since you were a boy," Lunar sighed.
He pulled Prism close and offered comfort to the man in front of him. Prism had no resistance left in himself. He cringed away but allowed himself to be cradled, keeping his eyes closed. It was an old childish fantasy that if he couldn't see Lunar, then Lunar couldn't see him. His friend wasn't fooled. He knew him too well.
"You never did like people to see you break down," he mused quietly. Prism let out a choked noise, and Lunar wiped away a tear that squeezed out of the tightly closed eyes. "I'm still waiting for an answer. When you're ready, we need to talk about this."
Prism thought that he'd never be ready. He could hardly breathe through his shame, let alone speak. But Lunar sat beside him, letting him cry, waiting with the patience acquired by many human lifetimes of living. When the tears finally abated, Prism swallowed and sat very still. Lunar patted his shoulder and stood up to fetch a glass of cold water. Prism took it and kept his eyes away from the light, which stung his heart more than his eyes. He took a long drink, and he noticed that his throat tingled when he swallowed. The pain must have shown on his face because Lunar frowned.
"My throat hurts," Prism muttered.
"Ah." Lunar's expression softened. "That would be from the screaming. Bunnymund said he'd mixed you a healing paste for your throat. Which one? I can make it while we talk."
"Number sixty-three fifty," Prism replied. "And I don't want to talk."
"I wasn't asking," Lunar replied. He stood up and helped Prism into his chair then walked over to his own workbench and began to deftly mix up a small batch of the yellow paste. "I will tell you that your reaction surprises me," he said.
Prism knew that was his cue to begin, and he grimaced and curled into the chair. "I lied to Jack," he muttered.
"Yes. Lucy mentioned that. Something about a plane, which was the time you crashed to Earth and I saw you as the moon rose. I'm guessing there was no plane?"
"No. I…" Prism worried his bottom lip and looked into his lap. "I had the first one."
"First one?"
"The first panic attack where I hurt myself," Prism whispered.
"I see."
"I was too ashamed to tell Jack what had happened. I've put him through so much already. And I didn't want him to panic or pity me. So… I lied. I didn't really think about it until afterwards. And then I told myself if it happened again, I'd go to you."
"And it did happen again, and you did not, in fact, come to me."
Prism cringed and spoke in a small voice. "Yeah."
"Any particular reason?"
"I don't know," Prism muttered.
"Liar."
Prism cringed, his heart skipping a beat at the accusation. Had he really stooped so low as to lie to his best friend? His face burned, and he swallowed.
"I… I didn't want to bother you."
Lunar turned to look over his shoulder, his expression surprised. "What?"
Prism kept his eyes on his lap. "Look at all you've had to put up with, Lunar. I'm mentally and emotionally unstable more often than I'd like to be, and you have to put up with it all. I'm sick of anxiety attacks. I'm sick of panic attacks. I'm sick of flashbacks. I'm sick of… of being weak and pathetic. I can't even think about Shadow Man without being pulled back down. And you have more important things to worry about than taking care of me."
Lunar stirred the healing paste vigorously as he considered that admission. When it was the right consistency, he slipped off the stool and walked over. Scooping the paste out with a large spoon, he held it out.
"Open."
Prism obeyed and swallowed the medicine without complaint. He still wouldn't look at Lunar as the Tsar set the bowl aside and went back over to his armchair. Lunar placed his chin in his hands as he stared at his old friend.
"Do you honestly think that you bother me?"
"Well, you didn't call me a liar, so it must be the truth," Prism muttered.
"No. You consider it to be true. But that doesn't make it the truth," Lunar countered. He sat back. "Prism, you're my best friend. Yes, I take care of the children of the world, but you are more dear to me than my job. I love you so much. You've been my brother for thousands of Earth years, and you've been through so much during that time. You've been abused and hurt and isolated and ostracized in a myriad of ways that I don't think even you're fully aware of. I can't even imagine how fragile and vulnerable you feel right now, but that doesn't drive me away. I'm here for you. You don't bother me. You never have."
"But you shouldn't have to deal with me," Prism argued. "It's my problem."
Lunar, irritated and a bit angry, stood up and flashed over to Prism. "Yes it's your problem, and this is how you've handled it!"
His dagger sliced through the bandages showing through the neck of Prism's robe and they fell away. Prism flinched when he saw the damage. His flesh was uneven and covered in lines, some nearly gone, others fresh and raw. There were so many that his scars from Shadow Man weren't even showing. His entire torso was a mass of wounds, and it was horrific to see what he'd done to himself. Tears welled in his eyes, and he looked up to see Lunar gazing at him, compassion and fire in his eyes.
"This is not healthy, Prism," Lunar said. "You are destroying yourself. And I'm not supposed to be concerned? I lost you once, and I won't lose you again. You need help. And I'm willing to give it. The Guardians are here for you, but you won't even ask for help! What else can we do to convince you that you're not a bother? What can we say to make you feel safe with us? You keep cringing and hiding, but you don't need to. We love you and we just want to help. What can I do to make you see that?"
Prism shrugged helplessly and squeezed his words out. "I don't know. I'm so lost and confused about everything, Lunar. I don't understand how I feel, or why I feel like I do. I'm ashamed and I don't want to bother any of you. I don't deserve to be helped. I deserve to die. Everything that's happened, everything I've done, it's too much. I want to feel better, but I don't know how to get there. I'm scared, Lunar. I'm so scared. And I'm supposed to be the Guardian of Courage. I don't feel courageous. I feel ashamed and guilty and angry and I'm just so tired. I don't know how to get out. It's so dark and lonely and I'm all alone."
Tears fell from his eyes as he spoke, and he kept his gaze on Lunar's brown eyes, trying to convey the truth of his words. As Lunar stared at him, he felt naked and vulnerable, but he tried not to cringe away even as he cried. Lunar reached over and wiped the tears away as a realization dawned on him.
"You're not Pitch Black anymore, Prism," he murmured. "You're not alone. You're not in the dark. You're right here with me. You have a group of friends who love you and want to help you grow and thrive. You just have to let us in first. Do you think we can work together? Do you think you can let us help?"
Prism searched his friend's face, taking in the worry and concern and love that shone from his bright eyes. What he said was true. Prism knew it was. But he didn't know how to let them in. He swallowed.
"I want to. But I don't know how. I was alone for so many years, Lunar. I need help."
Lunar smiled. "You're asking for help?"
Prism hesitated then nodded. "Yes."
Lunar sat back, looking pleased. "That's a good start. And I'll help you. We all will."
Prism let out a breath and sagged back into his chair in relief. As the shame melted away, he became aware of the fiery ache that burned in his muscles from moving, and he grimaced. His self-inflicted wounds seared his skin like a branding iron, and he shivered. Lunar didn't move, staring at the ceiling without saying a word. Was he aware of it? Probably. Why wasn't he saying something? Prism thought for a moment and came to the conclusion that he was going to have to ask for help.
"Lunar?"
Lunar blinked and looked down. "Yes?"
"I… everything hurts. Is there anything you can do?"
Lunar beamed. "Most certainly. First, let's get you back into bed. You're stiff and aching, I can tell. The others will help me to mix what I need, and we'll work on your healing. Come on, Prism."
Prism pushed himself up and swayed, swallowing as he focused on keeping his balance. Lunar guided him out into the hall and back toward his room. Prism's head swam as he staggered a few steps down the hall. Everything hurt, and he couldn't do it. He collapsed against the wall and groaned low in his throat. The more he moved, the more pain he felt. Lunar pressed a hand on his arm.
"Need help?"
Prism nodded, sinking down the wall to sit on the floor.
"North?" Lunar called.
North peeked out of Prism's room. "Yes?"
"Come help Prism back to bed. And have Sanderson start mixing the medicines for his wounds."
North relayed the message then strode out and looked down at Prism. Prism gazed up at him helplessly, feeling embarrassed by his weakness. But North said nothing as he leaned down and picked up the Darkling, lifting below his knees and under his back. Prism yelped in surprise but accepted the assistance as he was carried the few paces down the hall and into his room. When he was deposited on his bed, Prism muttered his thanks.
"No problem," North replied.
"Bunnymund, get him out of his robe and get the rest of the bandages off," Lunar instructed. "Toothiana, make the healing tea. North go help her."
They began to work at once. Bunnymund eased Prism out of his robe and stared curiously at the half-unraveled bandages on his chest.
"Lunar had a point to make," Prism grumbled.
"Did you get it?" Bunnymund asked as he began to unwind the bandages around Prism's torso.
"Vividly."
Bunnymund set aside the bandages and then moved to get the ones on his arms. As the air touched the wounds, he hissed with discomfort. The slightest breeze made the gouges feel like they were on fire. Even after almost a year, he still wasn't used to the pain. And with Bunnymund frowning over him as he looked over the damage, he wanted to wither away.
Lunar and Sandy were mixing different medicines, neither of them talking. Unlike Bunnymund, who had taken his sweet time, they only glanced at the book before tossing in more ingredients. Prism sat there, feeling worse than ever. He knew his face was dark—he could feel the heat in his cheeks—and he fought back tears of humiliation. This scenario had never crossed his mind. To be so helpless and vulnerable in front of Lunar was one thing. But for the rest of the Guardians to see him like this was terrible.
Bunnymund sat down beside him. "You okay?"
Prism shook his head. "What must you think of me?"
Lunar glanced over but said nothing. Bunnymund considered the question seriously. "I think you're in pain and you need some help. I also think you don't want to be in this situation, if your expression is anything to go off of."
"Is that all?"
"What else is there?"
Prism said nothing, averting his eyes.
Sandy floated over and hopped onto the bed. "I do believe that he thinks that we're disdaining him for weakness," he symbolized. "Asking for help is not in his nature, after all."
Bunnymund scoffed. "Ridiculous. We've all had moments like this. I once had to have some fur shaved because of an injury from some kind of alien leech that poisoned me. MiM had to work on me for days. And it was humiliating. I was so sick that I couldn't take care of myself at all. So I get where you're coming from. But I also know it's not necessary to feel like that. We've all been in similar spots. And you're a Guardian now. We'll tease you about it. But we won't downright sneer at you or laugh about it without you."
"Nothing about this is funny," Prism said. "It hurts. I just want to sleep."
Lunar carried over a bowl of shimmering cream. "Let's start with this. Sanderson, follow it up with the Sisternom paste you made. Once you're bandaged again, we'll get you some dreamsand. Lay back and relax as best you can."
Bunnymund helped Prism to ease back into the bed, and Lunar began to massage the cream into his wounds. Prism whimpered at the firm touch that sent signals of pain to his brain, but he knew that Lunar knew what to do. Toothiana and North came in with a teapot and several cups and deposited the tray on the desk then watched with grimaces as Lunar treated Prism. They both knew how painful some of the treatments could be, and they were both glad it wasn't them.
After the wounds were coated with several different medicines, Bunnymund and North helped to bandage Prism's chest and arms again and Toothiana helped him to drink a cup of hot tea. By the time he had finished, his head was reeling, and all he wanted was sleep. Sandy breathed gently into his face, and Prism felt his eyelids grow heavy at once.
"Now you rest, Prism," Lunar said. "North, you stay with him."
North sat down in the chair and waved his hand. A block of ice appeared, and he pulled a knife out of his pocket and began to whittle away at the ice. Prism was aware that the others were cleaning up, but he couldn't focus. He was so tired. The last thing he remembered was North telling him that somebody would be there when he woke. Prism didn't need the reminder. But still, it made a warm feeling spread through him to know that they really cared so much.
