Author's note:
HELLO ALL! First of all, a huge thank you for all of the support! I'd love to hear from you so feel free to reach out! You can find me on twitter at LegendarySocks .
SECONDLY! I made a mistake! I forgot to post chapter 17! If you read what I posted earlier, that should have been chapter 18. I am SO sorry for the mix up! THIS is the real chapter 17. BUT HEY! You get two chapters in 24 hours! WOOO!

Thank you for your patience! And Happy New Years!

-LegendarySocks

Hizashi stayed by Midoriya's side, the boy's bandaged hand held gently in his own, hoping it would provide some semblance of comfort. He was trapped in the unnatural sleep granted by anesthetic.

It wouldn't last much longer and Hizashi refused to let him think he was alone upon waking.

Dawn was only another hour off when Midoriya's hand twitched, pulling Mic from unpleasant memories. With a feather-light touch the hero rubbed a thumb over his knuckles. "You're safe, little one," he whispered.

He received a tired groan in response, his heart fluttering in his chest when the boy wrapped a hand around his.

Waking up after anesthesia was never easy and this time was no different. Mic held the grayish-pink basin and rubbed small circles in Midoriya's back as the nausea set in. In spite of his now empty stomach, it stubbornly continued.

For close to an hour the boy's tired body was wracked with painful bouts of dry-heaving and, although it was miserable, he barely reacted, moving robotically through his illness like this was the status quo.

Unsurprisingly, Midoriya turned down the first breakfast that was offered to him. And yet, when the nurse returned a short while later with a syringe full of the mush meant for a feeding tube, he accepted it gratefully.

Once he was "full" the nurse set a small cup of pills on his bed tray and departed with a small smile.

He took them without question.

Each time Mic tried to start a conversation, the boy would say just enough to answer then would fall back into the floaty space in his head.

Perhaps the dosage was too high.

There was a knock on the door and two men in suits entered the hospital room before Present Mic had cleared them.

He smiled though it was tight, the boy beside him stiffening. "Can I help you?"

They allowed the door to close behind them before responding. A man with black hair and steely eyes stepped forward, clearing his throat. "Yamada, Hizashi," he said. It wasn't a question though they gave him time to answer.

Hizashi straightened, the use of his given name while on duty put him on edge. "The one and only."

Midoriya squeezed his hand. He could feel his dull, green eyes boring into the back of his head.

"The child, Midoriya Izuku, is scheduled for questioning. We would ask you to please step into the hall."

"You're kidding me-"

"Your presence is not permitted during commission proceedings."

"Mi- Mic?" He could hear the panic in Midoriya's voice.

"There must be a mistake, it's not even been a week! Can't this be rescheduled?" Anxiety boiled within him but he kept his voice expertly calm, not wanting Midoriya to spin out of control.

"Please step into the hall, Yamada. You're free to return once the questioning is over."

"I- I want him here. Mic- Mic don't leave…"

The shorter man stepped forward, offering a pinched smile to the boy in the hospital bed, rapidly careening toward a panic attack. He gave a small bow, his cream colored hair obscuring his face. "I do apologize, however Mr. Yamada lacks the clearance to be in attendance at this time."

Mic turned toward the boy in time to see him shaking his head, eyes wide, tears already pooling on his waterline.

It broke his heart but he gave him a bright smile and, with every shred of confidence he could muster, said, "hey, hey, hey, it's going to be fine." Slowly he reached forward and wiped the gathering tears away. Midoriya let him, leaning into the touch. "I'm going to be right outside this room. If you need me, just give me a shout. Got it, Little Listener?"

Midoriya nodded once and Mic had to ignore the way those green eyes begged him to stay, the way his lip quivered was making it hard to breathe.

He turned, trying to keep the tension from his posture and strode from the room.

The moment the door closed, his phone was in his hands.

09:02am

Zashi: Got a situation.

09:02am

Sho: whats goin on

09:03am

Zashi: Suits, from the commission. They came and are questioning Midoriya. Kicked me out before they started.

09:05am

Sho: bullshit

Sho: on my way

09:05am

Zashi: I love you. Please be careful and I'll see you soon. 3

09:07am

Sho: 3

He felt bad for disturbing his husband after a long shift. He'd no doubt been sleeping, but something about this felt…wrong.

Hizashi paced in front of the door, drumming his fingers on his thighs, creating a beat that was healthier to obsess over than what was going on inside that room.

It made certain scars littering his body itch. In spite of the beat he was creating, in spite of the added whole handed pats and snaps he added, in spite of its complexity, Hizashi's skin began to crawl. He could feel the gooseflesh rise on his arms, on his neck.

So he increased the tempo, using his heartbeat as a metronome. He didn't notice the nurse or other patients staring at him.

Something moved in his hair and he broke the rhythm to brush it away. There was nothing.

He focused on his breathing.

He needed his music but, with it on, he wouldn't hear Midoriya call for him, and that was out of the question.

Faint white scars on his cheeks and the bridge of his nose began to prickle and he bit his tongue.

'Come on Zashi…'

'You're a hero!'

'Get a hold of yourself!'

He nodded to himself. He could fall apart once he was home, but the bugs had already begun to crawl. The memories were growing insistent, knocking at the aged walls that hadn't come down in ages.

Something about leaving that boy's side felt like betrayal. It felt like abandoning him.

A cold hand caught his wrist in a gentle grip and the noises beyond the faint crying from within the room came rushing back.

He didn't need to look down to know he'd been scratching his arm raw. Now that he was focused he could feel the sting of his abraded skin. He pulled down the sleeve he hadn't realized he'd raised.

"Zashi. There's no bugs. Your body is yours. I'm not mad at you. Got it?"

It was Shouta, his kind eyes swimming with passion and love and every word that didn't need to be said to be understood. He pulled Hizashi's headphones from his neck and placed them over the hero's ears. "Let it fade. I'll come find you when this is done. He'll be ok."

Shouta stepped into the hospital room, eyes glowing, hair rising with his quirk's activation. "Article 3, section A, 12.2.7: victims under the age of 16 are allowed, upon request, the presence of a parent or guardian during all commission proceedings, which include, but are not limited to: interrogation, questioning, mandatory medical exam-"

"Aizawa, you are neither this boy's parent, nor his legal guardian, the same goes for Mr. Yamada. Since no such person is available-"

"Midoriya, Inko is not available because she has not been made aware of her son's rescue, as per the orders given by the commission. I, as his homeroom teacher, am available." He grabbed the chair sitting beside Midoriya's bed, flipped it around, and sat with his chest pressed to the backrest, his body acting as a barrier between the commissioners and the boy in the hospital bed. "Proceed."

The dark-haired commissioner sniffed, displeased but moved on as if there was no interruption. He looked down, taking a moment to skim the notes he'd taken then clicked his pen a few times while he gathered his thoughts.

"Mr. Midoriya, at what point did Mr. Bakugou lose consciousness?"

"Uh- I- I don't know? He was hu- he was hurting so much and she kept-"

"-She, as in who?"

"T-Toga. She-"

"But didn't you say that this 'Toga' was restraining you?"

Midoriya's brows knitted together and he bit at his lips. "Y-yes. There were two. One had me and- and the other had Kaccha- uh. Sorry, Katsuki."

"How is that possible?" The man with the cream-colored hair asked.

Midoriya sighed lightly, breaking eye contact to stare instead at his bandaged hands. "It's a quirk. Uh…one of the villains can make perfect copies of people and objects."

There was a thick silence that followed. The two men looked at eachother then both began writing something down.

Aizawa paled at Midoriya's words. They held an answer, he was sure of it. The statement clung to his mind with stubborn fingers but he didn't know what to do with it.

'Copy?'

"Did you ever see this villain use their quirk?"

Midoriya nodded.

"Verbal responses please."

"Y-yes. But I only ever saw him- uh…making doubles of himself."

"Then how can you be sure 'Toga' was a double?"

Midoriya looked up from his hands, confused. "Wha- What do you mean? Who else would it be? No one else had a qu-"

"Mr. Midoriya, do you remember being given any pills or injections during your imprisonment?" The dark-haired man began flipping through several papers arranged neatly in a manilla folder then pulled out a small packet.

The boy was quiet for a long minute then nodded. "Yes. There was a quirk suppressant we were given every day."

"Anything else?"

"No."

The man huffed out a small breath. "I expected as much. Mr. Midoriya, your medical records indicate that high levels of MDMA were present in the urine sample taken shortly after your arrival. It was not the only empathogenic substance detected. These drugs would affect your situational awareness and the validity of your memory."

Aizawa cleared his throat, eyes flashing. "I was not aware that questioning Midoriya for his testimony would include a cross-examination. Regar-"

"Sen- Sensei? They have a point."

Aizawa turned around, surprised. He looked so small in that bed, shoulders hunched, eyes glassy.

"So- So much of…uh what happened doesn't make sense." He spoke slowly, almost as if he was talking to himself. He watched his fingers move, touching each to its corresponding thumb, absently. "Things get really fuzzy around when Kacchan was captured."

"Explain."

Midoriya took a deep, shaky breath. "I don't know how. Things felt worse? And…better? I saw- I saw Kacchan-"

"Do you mean Bakugou, Katsuki?"

He didn't respond. The boy's voice quivered and the movement of his fingers grew erratic, almost twitchy. Eerily, he was not crying, though his face began to twist as if he were. "They made me- They made me watch! I- I cant! Please!"

Aizawa glared at the men sitting across from him as he stood, not breaking eye contact. "This session is over. Take your notes. Take your apathy and leave. I'll be in contact with the commission to express my immense displeasure over how this was handled."

He turned without waiting for their response and his heart shattered in his chest.

The boy's hands were knotted in his messy curls, eyes frozen wide and staring at nothing but a memory. He was trapped by his past horrors more effectively than if he was caged.

Midoriya rocked himself, chest meeting his drawn up knees at a pace that should have hurt his healing body, but it seemed the memories hurt worse.

A litany of "I can't. I can't. I can't," escaped his trembling lips in a desperate plea for mercy.

Aizawa heard the receding footfalls as the men left the room. As much as he hoped it would help him breathe a little easier, the sight of the child before him made it impossible.

He approached him slowly and eased Midoriya's hands out of his hair. The action went unacknowledged.

His gaze remained fixed in the past, those green eyes so distant.

Empty.

Aizawa pushed a hand into the boy's hair and pulled him to his chest, his ear directly over the teacher's heart. "Midoriya. It's safe to come back now. You don't have to be there anymore."

He could feel some of the tension leach from Midoriya's shoulders, his body leaning into Aizawa's, not fighting the closeness as he expected. "Can you hear me?"

Midoriya swallowed audibly, took a shuddering breath as if just coming up for air and gave a weak nod.

He allowed the silence to fill the space, petting his fingers through the tangles in the boy's hair. Slowly his breathing returned to normal. Shaky arms wrapped around the hero's waist.

"'Zawa," he whispered, nuzzling closer.

Eyes wide with surprise, Aizawa returned the hug. The position was awkward, his body half leaning across the hospital bed but this gesture of seeking closeness was significant.

The tears came silently, soaking his shirt before he realized Midoriya was crying. Comfort wasn't his area of expertise. He needed backup.

Without jostling Midoriya, Aizawa reached into his pocket, hoping his husband was recovered enough to lend a hand. Perhaps it would be healing for both of them. With one hand he sent a simple, "he needs you."

Not a minute later the door opened, had it not been for the additional light coming in from the hall he wouldn't have even noticed. It always surprised him how quiet Hizashi could be when he needed to be.

Hizashi carefully took Midoriya's hands from Aizawa and scooted between them, then, nimble as a cat, stepped onto the hospital bed. He sat in front of Midoriya, still holding his hands. He waited for the boy to move, not wanting to push him too quickly.

He didn't hesitate however, there was a perfect hollow in Hizashi's chest where the boy found his home, a hollow that was both physical and emotional. They both had wounds that were aching, and this closeness seemed to act as a balm.

Midoriya curled close, clutching at the hero's jacket. Hizashi took his hands once more and wrapped them around his chest. "Hold tight, little one. We've gotcha."

The kid's grip was strong, his desperation coming through the contact. "I saw him…" he mumbled, so quiet they both almost missed it. They shared a look then glanced back at the boy cowering between them.

"You don't have to talk about it, it's-"

"I need to…I just…it doesn't make sense." He wiped his eyes, though didn't pull away from Mic's gentle hug. He pressed the top of his head into the hero's chin, who smiled, nuzzling closer. "I dont know what's real. They said- they said there were drugs? How much of what I saw happened? I saw it so many times…"

Aizawa hated to do this but he needed to know. He sat down on the other side of Midoriya, still facing the door. That nagging feeling of significance clung to his lungs as he asked, "What did you see, Midoriya?"

As if trying to become one, Midoriya pressed closer to Mic, body growing tense.

"It's alright, take your time. We're just here to listen."

He took a deep breath and Mic felt the tiny nod against his chest. "Ka- Kacchan." He nodded again, trying to muster his strength. "They made me watch him die."

The heroes were silent, eyes wide and glued to each other.

"Over and over. By fire. Drowning. Decay. Crushed. Blood loss. Over and over…and over. To-Toga said they were dreams. But every- Every time I closed my eyes- She said if I- If I cared more, I would know which was real. I couldn't tell…I didn't know! But- but he's here!"

Hizashi petted through the boy's hair. Aizawa could sense the pieces coming together behind his lime green eyes. "It's alright. You're alright. Just let it out," he crooned softly.

"He's here! And he's fine! It doesn't make sense. His wrists. His hands. They were like mine! We talked about his quirk. About going home. They-they tortured him! But all of it was in my head…cause Kacchan's fine."

The boy continued. Hizashi leaned forward, pulling him closer then his hand was suddenly grasping Aizawa's arm so tightly it would bruise. There was terror in his eyes. He was looking for comfort, for his husband to tell him he was wrong.

But he found anguish reflected back at him. Aizawa's cole-black eyes were fathomless depths of guilt and regret. He saw the cracks begin to surface.

'I warned you!'

'Somethings wrong with me!'

'It's like I never left!'

There was no doubt Bakugou had returned that day with Midoriya in hand.

It just wasn't the right Bakugou.