Disclaimer: I don't own Misfits. Includes strong language.

Sorry for the wait. The reviews were much appreciated :)

Curtis woke when a soft bump across the room sent a thrill of shock through him, sending his head jerking back against the wall behind him with a resounding crack. He bit back a yell of pain, managing to cram it into a furious hiss instead. He blinked through watering eyes at Simon, who had woken him by rolling ungracefully off his box, and who was now staring around dazedly with an expression of comical confusion on his face. He rolled onto his back and rubbed his shoulder. Curtis glared at him, and then pushed himself upright, rubbing a hand across his face.

A glance at his watch told him that it was morning at last, 6.30am to be exact. His clothes felt old his limbs stiff with tiredness and the exertion of the night before. He wanted to go home and sleep for the rest of the day... only he had community service work to do in about two hours. If anything was for certain, it was that he wasn't going to be getting any sleep at all any time soon. None of them were. He groaned at the thought and looked around for the others, ready to explain this little revelation to them.

Nathan was asleep - asleep, and quite clearly not dead. He lay curled into a tight ball on his side, his face turned into his pillow, his skinny body heaped with Kelly's blankets. He still looked sick - his face was still hollowed and waxy, his hands twig-like fists - but his eyes were moving beneath their lids and Curtis could see the steady rise and fall of his chest. Relieved, Curtis sought out Kelly, who was asleep at the end of Nathan's bed, leant back against the railing. One of her hands rested on his leg, as if she had been smoothing the blanket when she had fallen asleep. The two of them appeared surprisingly peaceful. Around them was scattered wrappers and boxes from the foods Kelly and Simon had picked up, only a couple still unopened. So Nathan had at least eaten something.

He felt a small surge of disappointment at the thought that he had missed Nathan's shift from death to life. He still had no idea how it even worked. He found himself wondering if it was a dramatic recovery, or a quiet one, perhaps loud and gasping like in films... he quickly put his mind to more important matters and stood up. He beckoned to Simon, who had by now sat up and was kneading his eyes wearily, and then crossed to Kelly. He woke her silently, put a finger to his lips, and then led the way downstairs. The other two followed softly, still wrapped in a haze of sleep.

They went, as always, to the locker room to talk. Once there, Kelly sat down on the floor and Simon leant heavily against the lockers, sighing heavily. Curtis pulled out his mobile and scrolled through the many texts Alisha had been sending, desperate to know what was going on.

"What're we going to tell the probation workers? His family?" Simon said, almost to himself.

"Family?" Curtis shook his head. "Truth. Probation workers? No idea."

"Can't we just leave it until tomorrow?" Kelly said, placing both hands over her face. "Just to give him time to get his head straight. He can hide out up there for now, nobody will look for him. And then when he's recovered, we'll figure out what we're going to tell them."

Curtis was so tired that he couldn't be bothered to argue. It sounded like an easy plan, and as far as he was concerned, easy certainly meant good at the moment. He nodded, shrugging his jacket on slowly.

"Okay. Then we all go home and come back here like usual, pretend nothing happened. And tomorrow we'll all decide what to do."

Simon and Kelly agreed, or at least nodded until he stopped talking and let them go. Kelly plodded back to Nathan to let him know what was going on, and Curtis and Simon waited zombie-like outside the building, squinting against the early morning sunlight, wincing at the shriek of birdsong. Kelly returned after only a few minutes, and together they began to walk slowly back into town.

"How was he? Were you there when he woke up?" Curtis asked, the words slurring slightly.

"Yeah," Kelly replied. "He was okay. Not exactly somethin' you get over quickly though, right? Being buried alive and all that..."

Simon shivered. "Do you think he'll be all right?" he said hesitantly.

The others didn't answer. And even when they parted, the silence followed each home like a ghost.

Nathan woke again at around midday, his stomach heaving and his head pounding.

The first thing he did was look for Kelly. The last time he had woken, she had been right next to him, close enough for him to feel her breath on his cheek. She had whispered to him quietly, as if worried that she would upset him by talking normally. Something about being back soon. He had been so tired that he had barely taken it in. And yet now, when he turned his head, she had vanished completely. All of them had. He raked his brains for the memory of that last conversation they had had. Yes, it had definitely been about her and the others leaving, about to return later on after their shift ended. So for now, at least, he was on his own.

He sat up blearily, frowning at the dull, half-hearted pain in his chest. His head swung once more, and nausea suddenly rushed in on him. He shut his eyes tightly, waiting for it to subside, but it only grew stronger. Perhaps he had eaten too much in the ten minutes he had been awake, perhaps his body was still recovering from being repeatedly brought back to life again and again. Whatever the reason, he was feeling very, very sick... Eventually, he stopped pretending it wasn't happening and rose unsteadily to his feet. He staggered downstairs and along the quiet corridors, squinting against the bright sunlight that assaulted his eyes. What time was it? Midday at least... he made his way heavily to the bathroom and stumbled to his knees on the dirty tiled floor just in time, barely making it to the toilet before he retched.

It wasn't the first time he had thrown up, but it was definitely the most painful. His chest seared every time he heaved and his head throbbed so hard that darkness spread across his eyes. He wanted nothing more than to just pass out and let that be the end of it, but he forced himself to hold on for now. He gripped the toilet seat with white-knuckled hands, shut his eyes, and endured. His stabbing retches finally gave way to dry heaves, and then to a steady, weary spluttering that left him weak and shivery. He sat back on the floor, leaning heavily against the cubicle wall, and concentrated on breathing the stuffy air he had been denied in the last five minutes or so over the toilet basin. Maybe he did pass out for a while then.

When he came back to himself, he was still sitting on the floor with that furry, ugly taste in his mouth. He sat there for a few minutes longer, blinking slowly, and then gingerly rose to his feet. He moved out of the cubicle, relying on the wall to keep himself upright, and managed to make it to the sink. He washed out his mouth with trembling fingers, then looked at himself for the first time in about two weeks. Even he had to admit that he looked terrible. He looked like a patient from the terminal ward of the local hospital. His eyes were sunken, his face whiter than the porcelain sink, his hair limp and lagging. He stared into his own bloodshot eyes. He looked like... no. He wasn't going to think that particular word. As far as he was concerned, he was never going to die again. He couldn't go through that again.

He gathered the energy to fill the sink with lukewarm water and wash his hair in it. As he tousled it dry beneath the hand-drier, he felt his chest twinge once more. He had completely forgotten about that. He straightened and pulled off his t-shirt, took a good look at himself. He winced at the sight of his ribs pressing through his skin. He had always been thin, but now he had become unnaturally skinny. Kelly would never find this attractive... he would have to fatten himself up a little. Perhaps build up some abs if he could find the time. Or be bothered. But back to the problem at hand... he had a large, red, raw wound in the centre of his chest. It looked disgusting, to be blunt. At least there wasn't pus, that really would be gross... no, it just looked like an old wound. He wondered if being immortal meant that he would get no scars from it all. He prodded it cautiously, ready to whip his hand away if blinding agony tore through him. But nothing happened. He felt a faint throb, but nothing more. It had hurt a lot more when he was underground. Perhaps now that he was out, he would heal much faster too. He ran his hand over the dry, aching gash, and then hurriedly pulled his shirt back on. He would have to put off chatting up Kelly - there would be no hanky-panky and such like until this thing had gone down completely. He made for the door, and then remembered the vomit in the toilet and wandered back into the cubicle, sighing heavily. He tried not to look, but of course there was no point in that. He glanced down as he pressed down on the lever.

He looked down just in time to see scarlet blood swirling into the U-bend.

He left quickly before he could throw up again. His legs had started to shake before he had taken five steps into the corridor, and he had to stop for a breather before he was halfway back. He leant against the wall, shutting his eyes tightly, waiting for the world to stop spinning. Why on earth was he so pathetic now? What was wrong with him? It had to have been the weeks he had spent underground, never once moving a single step. His muscles had been out of use. He wanted nothing more than to go to sleep right here in the corridor, but he knew that as soon as he did that he was going to end up passing out again. So he took a few deep breaths, and then pushed himself upright and headed onwards.

He was almost back when the man appeared.

He managed to throw himself around a corner just before the man turned his head. It was a complete stranger, someone he had never seen before in his life. Nathan watched as he walked towards the glass front doors, his hands in his pockets, his head held high, his eyes glittering with emotions Nathan couldn't read. Nathan hesitated a moment before following. He reached the doors without falling or touching the wall and looked out into the area beyond, where the man had stopped beside four people dressed in orange jumpsuits and lolling back on a bench. Nathan grinned as the man put his hands on his hips and began to talk, felt a small chuckle bubble in his throat as the four jumpsuits stared back at him, uncaring, bored, mocking. he felt a sudden, odd longing to be out there with them, but he knew his legs wouldn't hold him up for that long.

He returned to his bed. By the time he got there his knees were buckling and his eyes were dull and blurry with exhaustion. He collapsed onto his bed and buried his face in the pillow. With one aching, shuddering arm, he reached out and pulled the blankets back over himself. He was unconscious before his arm had dropped back down again.

Naw, poor Nathan :D

Thanks for reading. Reviews are much appreciated.

SUPRNTRAL LVR.