Apriltober 2022 14 Captive pt 2

a/n: And thus human met Marnuck. Or, Doug met Al.

All the good things belong to Monolith Soft, so do not blame them for this.

Even if Doug couldn't be bothered to lift his face from the bitter cold of the floor, he did want to put a little distance between himself and the wall he shared with his neighbor. The Marnuck prisoner contained in the cell next to his had taken him apart during that day's session, not completely figuratively. He knew that the Ganglion had some allies they didn't quite trust, and this guy must have been one of them. Aside from rearranging Doug's skeletal structure in a non-chiropractic-approved way, he'd also done things to Doug's mind. Doug had been prepared for some problems, but nothing like the choking hopelessness that had swirled around the Monster, sucking the strength from Doug's soul.

He couldn't push himself upright, but he could at least manage to shift a little further away. The restraints were as good an excuse as any for the pitifully small change he'd achieved, although he'd couldn't claim that they'd actually started to strain. It hadn't helped, and the thought that he'd tried did not comfort him.

Messed up as time was in his head, Doug still suspected his rest break was drawing to a close. He took a breath, thought about pulling further, hard enough to put some real tension on the cuffs on his wrist, when the world changed.

There was warmth. There was hope. There was comfort.

Doug struggled to sit up. He was existing in two worlds, the world of the prison, and a different plane of existence, one where he was loved and valued and safe. Where he always had been and always would be safe. It wasn't a reality he'd ever known, but for a moment he was sure it existed. Then it faded.

He was sitting now, cross-legged, although he wasn't sure how he'd managed it. Everything hurt as much as it had before, but at a distance. A low voice, alien but understandable, whispered to him through the wall opposite the Monster's. "The Crone serves us all. Even the Lord of the Graveyard turns to her for comfort. Share it with me, stranger."

"Barrett, Douglas. Harrier," Doug choked out. He didn't want to say more.

"Aldaf. Human?"

Doug kept silent. For the first time in days, he was in control of what he did or did not say.

"They call you one of the humans, so I suppose you are. It doesn't matter. The Auntie serves her children, and we are all, all of us, her children."

Doug became aware that the vile influence radiating from the wall he shared with the Monster had ebbed. Or maybe this new influence had pushed it back. He didn't want this strange reprieve to weaken him, but dammit he needed the rest. His eyelids closed.

"Good," said the voice. "I will hold you in my thoughts as the Auntie holds her bowl in her hands. You've met my ship's brother. My skill is nothing compared to his, but then again, he doesn't know how to ask for Her help. I do."

Doug was still sleeping when they came for him, and the rest did him no good whatsoever during the fourth day of questioning. Or maybe it did. It seemed his wardens were surprised that he lasted as long as he did. During the session, they ran out of new scenarios to slice through his brain. They'd paused to check the apparatus, changed the settings, restarted scenarios he'd already survived (badly, he'd survived badly, make no doubt about that).

His existence fell into a pattern. Time inside his cell, time outside. Outside meant horror, thanks to the Ganglion and his own weakness. Inside meant waiting, another word for existence, which was made bearable, even peaceful, with the help of Al. He kept his own words to a minimum, but Al seemed to know what Doug wanted to hear. He told him about the prisoners and guards, about the power of their neighbor and the Ganglion's struggle to make use of it. He sighed as he spoke of how the Ganglion were trying to understand his own power, and had only managed to strengthen it in the process. "When all confusion is taken away, only the truth remains. I am closer to my Aunt than I could ever have hoped to be." Mostly, Al projected a different reality around Doug, one without punishment or threat, a place where Doug could recover.

It must have been another week before the rescue party blew the door to his cell off its hinges. Doug was weak but hanging in there, all because of Al's help. The rescue party probably hadn't expected to find even one survivor after all this time, but Doug was sure they wouldn't mind rescuing a second person, even if he was a Marnuck.

a/n: Al was in an earlier story (Hourly Challenge/10) and was presumed dead by the middle of it, but he had other ideas. The Crone is not canon; the God of the Graveyard is.

Next up: something else, anything else. Send a prompt, otherwise: stand guard.