Him.

There was a faint recognition, like waves ebbing and flowing away from him. Some sound, buzzing around his head, trying to penetrate his skull.

So annoying.

Someone was there, he thought. He almost wondered who it was. That was, until, he remembered that it didn't matter.

I just want to sleep.

After moments of silence, he thought his wish had come true, and that they had gone away.

No, the sound instead changed form. Its new form snapped him out of the haze. He knew this sound. It was slightly different, but, he knew it to the be the same.

I could never forget it.

His eyes snapped open, but he remained unable to see. Instead, he craned his neck forward, squinted eyes trying to focus on the blur in front of him.

"—-ve?" His ears didn't seem to be working, but the familiar cadence reassured him nonetheless.

Ah, a pleasant dream for once, he mused.

There was a buzzing in his throat as he tried to give form to his thoughts. It had been so long since he tried.

"Ah…" He was sure that wasn't what he had meant to say.

He began to feel frustrated. Perhaps this was a nightmare in another way. She had appeared before him, like a candle in the darkness, but he was no longer able to engage. He was…

I am…

Not…

The same as you.

—-

Her.

She jumped in surprise when, as suddenly as she had called out, the boy's eyes had snapped open. The bright orange of the irises danced behind his bangs, reminding her of firecrackers.

The action also caused his bangs to shift, allowing her more of a view.

It was then that the world moved forward.

"Steve…?" She did her best to keep tears from spilling over into the question.

He smiled. It was a messy smile, full of teeth, with several being longer and sharper than she remembered, but the meaning reached her.

A moan escaped his lips. Is he trying to speak? Oh, Steve, what have they done to you?

There were too many questions in her mind, but no time to ask. She wasn't even sure if he was capable of answering.

She watched his face fall as his expression twisted to sadness. His shaky hand slowly reached out towards her face.

Ah… It's just the same as then. The final moments before his death flashed behind her eyes: his hand pulling hers against his cheek as he caressed her face.

No. Not this time. Somewhere in her mind, she knew how foolish her action was, but her heart was pulled taut, prone to snap.

She grabbed his securely and pulled it against her face, feeling his slight jerk at the unexpected contact. She then cupped his cheek, moving her body and face right in front of him.

—-

Him.

He wanted to reach her somehow. If he couldn't speak, there were other means of communication.

But the thought of physical contact after everything that had happened still terrified him.

If it's just a dream… He raised his hand hesitantly, the lack of energy making the action difficult.

I can… While he thought he had mentally prepared himself for the action, he still jerked in surprise when he felt what he realized was her hand take his and touch his face.

And then, she was right there. Right in front of him. So close, he could breathe her in.

His features had mangled into the shape of joy. This is a good dream after all.

It was then that he let himself relax into her touch, trusting this memory of Claire manifested to give him reassurance. He nuzzled her hand, moving his cheek back and forth against it. It tickled.

Maybe I'm finally dying, he wondered vaguely. With this much happiness, he didn't really care.

His fingers moved against her face, the nerve endings exploding in the first pleasant sensation he'd felt in… he didn't even know how long. There was something strange there too, but whatever it was, it didn't matter.

He closed his eyes and exhaled, deeply and fully.

—-

Her.

She watched his surprised features soften, accepting her touch and returning with affectionate kneading.

Only once his eyes closed and he looked truly relaxed did her relief flow, manifesting in a new action of tilting her face against his. Their foreheads touched as she closed her eyes as well, taking in the contented sounds of his breathing.

He's okay… Somehow, Steve's okay… She knew that further steps had to be taken to protect him, but she didn't want this to end so quickly.

"Steve…" she whispered against him. "I—" But she cut herself off when she heard Steve's breathing become more labored.

She pulled away from his face to check his condition. "Steve?" She called out with care, but all emotion became colored by fear.

His irises had shifted from orange to a deep red, and his fangs were lengthening. The first steps of the transformation, she remembered.

"Steve, stay with me!" She didn't want the soldiers to shoot him, potentially painting the rescue in bad memories. "Please, calm down."

Is it even something he can stop? Claire had no way of knowing. It wasn't like they had the information to know what ends it naturally. The researcher's notes said that all transformations were triggered by the use of certain drugs.

It could also be triggered from a lack of drugs. It had been several days since anyone had been here to 'care for' the occupants of this facility.

"—aire…" He managed, punctuated by haggard, painful-sounding breaths. She snapped back to the present moment.

"Steve?" Her hands moved to around his shoulders, trying to console him. "Please, breathe."

His eyes had been swallowed by red, his expression knitted in pain and confusion. She made note of his arms, down at his sides, balled in effort.

He's trying.

—-

Him.

Once she placed their faces closer did he begin to feel that something was wrong.

He was happy at the action. So happy. But something shifted inside of him. Torrents of pain were unleashed, as if to punish him for his momentary reprieve from hell.

Switching between a dream and nightmare has to be a nightmare, right? He absentmindedly asked himself. What exactly this was didn't help the current situation.

He thought he heard her say something, but it didn't reach him.

Even if she's fake, Steve never wanted to hurt Claire. She was the one person he could not let himself harm.

Even if they make me go entirely insane, he thought, hoping that the very act of thinking it proved his sanity, I will never hurt— "—aire..."

He quickly moved his arms to his side, digging the lengthening claws into his palms. It was then that he felt hands on his shoulders.

So warm… He wanted to smile, but the mess of fangs caused any sudden expressions to cut his flesh.

Please, he hoped mostly to himself, stop.

He didn't have a memory of any instance of an experiment ending with him being able to force the shift to stop.

If that's the case, he raised his arms, careful to keep his claws in his own flesh.

—-

Her.

Claire didn't register the event. Suddenly, she was falling backwards. Did Steve push her?

An order was shouted, and she heard it. "Brandy, shoot!"

The sound of the shot stopped her world all over again. She had no idea which soldier had which ammunition.

"Steve!" She screamed, throat raw from the force, catching herself on the ground with one hand. Using that same hand, she pushed off towards him again.

He had stopped, seemingly frozen in movement. Both he and Claire looked at the source of it: a needle in his arm. His eyes began to close, and he slumped backwards.

Claire reached out to catch him, cradling his limp body close to her.

She turned around. "What did you shoot him with!?" She accused, knowingly unfair.

One of the soldiers stepped forward. Brandy, she guessed. "Just a tranquilizer," he tried to reassure her. "We hoped unconsciousness would also stop the transformation..." Another chimed in: "You're welcome!"

Claire was angry, but she knew it wasn't justified. She looked down at Steve, and saw that the transformation had regressed. She had no way of knowing if he could have stopped it on his own. It might not be possible. The soldiers did the right thing.

She lifted him as she got up. "Thank you," it came out slightly bitter despite her rationalization. She paused to breathe deeply. "You did what you deemed safest for the situation." Securing her hold on him, she added, "How long will he be out for?"

"About ten minutes. Not long enough." Another huffed. "We have to secure him."

Claire stopped, defeated. "You mean put him in chains." She held him closer, protectively. "He'll get scared! We have no idea what they did to him here. We need to be careful not to cause him any more trauma." She swallowed. "We were supposed to keep this a rescue."

"Listen," the captain of the soldiers said, in his best attempt at reassurance. "I'm sorry but you're not the most reliable source of what's best for him right now. You're biased. It might be a lengthy process to get him acclimated to people and society again—If he even can be."

She knew that. She feared it. Finding Steve alive would only be the first step in a messy process. Nothing good could have happened here.

Claire traced the features of his face as she held him. The ease with which she could do so was a testament to just how thin he was now.

I hoped to save you, to give you only pleasant memories from now on. She placed her forehead against his once more. Please, believe that I will do all I can to make that happen.

It was foolish, and already disproven, but she had vowed to save him. She would protect him from the world in any way she could.