First of all I just want to say thank you so much to everyone who has been leaving reviews: Psy-Kick, YourLocalAsexualLoser, LightXCVII, Natsuki Sawada, and Ellis Tobias, thank you all so much. I really appreciate your thoughts, your feedback, your comments, all of it helps me to stay so motivated to keep writing and delivering this story to you!

Ellis Tobias, welcome back and congrats on your baby!

It's a quiet one today. Enjoy some Comfort xxx

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Needles flashed in her vision, held by gloved hands, and Anya strained against chains, binding her at her wrists. She tried to scream, but nothing came out, and it left her gasping for air.

You're needed for more tests, Test Subject 007.

The clinical white lights burned her, and she tried to close her eyes against it, but when she opened them again, the room had changed, and a woman in a white lab coat towered over.

The doctor has ordered more blood work for you, Miss Forger.

Anya sat up from the hospital bed, and tried to run, but pain seared her shoulder as a gunshot rang out.

Anya! Anya, wake up!

Rough hands shook her arm, and Anya gasped awake, seeing only darkness around her. Sweat-soaked pyjamas clung to her, and Anya brought a hand to her forehead, moving the damp strands of hair away from her eyes.

"It's alright, you're safe now…"

The calm voice washed over her, and Anya tried to lean into it, to feel the warmth contained in the voice and let it slow her racing heart.

"That's it. Just take it slow. It's okay."

She didn't even notice how hard it was to just breathe, and Anya followed the voice beside her, telling her what to do, when to inhale, when to let it out…

"Damian?" she whimpered, her voice small and weak, but he had already moved closer to her, and scooped her into his embrace.

"I've got you," he murmured, one hand stroking her hair, while the other rubbed small circles into her back.

She braced her forehead against the back of her hand, letting it be the only barrier between her face and his chest. The fabric of his pyjama shirt scrunched in her hands, and she held back another gasp, another cry, unable to speak at all.

His hands on her were so warm, and so comforting, and in the darkness, it felt as though they were the only ones awake, and the world just belonged to the two of them.

If she concentrated, listening to the corners of her awareness, she could also sense the dreaming minds of her parents, but for that moment, Anya tuned them out. If she could at least pretend that she was completely alone with Damian, maybe she could feel more safe, maybe she could forget about…

The silence stretched out between them, in which the only sound was Anya's slowing breaths, and the slowly quietening thrum of her racing pulse. One breath in, then another, and all the while, Damian's murmurings comforted her, helping her to leave the nightmare behind.

And slowly, slowly, she came back to herself.

"I'm okay," she whispered, eventually.

Damian's hand rested at the back of her head, and he inhaled a fortifying breath.

"So I guess… that's why you didn't want to stay in the hospital."

Anya tensed, and her shoulder twinged from the accidental movement. The images from her nightmare flashed once again in her mind, and Anya closed her eyes to it, taking in a deep breath of cinnamon and library books to soothe her.

"How did you…?"

"Your dream leaked. I saw bits of it," he explained briefly, and his hold on her tightened. "So it's true? You felt like you were back in the lab?"

"Mm," she mumbled, nodding slightly. Her hair probably tickled the underside of his chin as she did so, but if it bothered him, he didn't complain. "Every time I woke up."

She didn't plan to, but she nuzzled into his neck, seeking as much comfort from him as she dared, and her voice came out as a wisp: "It was scary."

He sighed against her, his warm breath skimming the top of her head. "Do you want to talk about it?"

"I don't know," she said honestly. The memory of the nightmare was already fading, but flashes of images stayed behind, as well as echoes of fear holding her heart hostage. It felt just the same as when she had accidentally activated her psychic defence, terrifying the students around her into paralysis. Was that the same for them? Did they feel just as trapped as she did?

On some level, Anya wanted Damian to know everything. He already knew far more than she was comfortable with, but at the same time, what he knew didn't push him away. In fact, it only made him want to understand her even more - but what if there was a limit to that?

What she went through at the lab… No-one knew about the true extent of it. Not Damian, not her parents, and certainly not Becky. The only people that knew were her, and the ones who subjected her to it. It was so much a part of her that Anya didn't consider it a secret, exactly…

It was a shipwreck, submerged at the deepest depths of the ocean, shrouded in darkness and impossibly heavy. Currents moved around it, and other bits of debris and polyp clusters created a coating around it so impenetrable and thick, that the wreck was just a part of the ecosystem now. It was a part of the ocean as a whole. Inseparable and immortal.

It wasn't something that Anya could just talk about. Dislodging it would do more damage to the ecosystem that she had so carefully built over a decade. It was a task too large for mere words to manage.

"Not right now," Anya decided eventually, and tilted her face up to Damian's. "But… Thank you. I know it must be weird for you to be in this situation…"

It surprised her when he chuckled lightly. "I signed up for this, Anya. Don't worry."

His arm wound even further around her, pulling her close to him, so close that she felt utterly cocooned by him.

"If you're okay with my weird stuff, then I'll take all the weirdness you've got. Every last bit."

She couldn't help the smile that took over her face, though Damian wouldn't have been able to see it, since he'd practically pinned her into his hold.

But then an ache pulsed in her shoulder, and she gasped aloud, and Damian jerked suddenly back, releasing her in a panic.

"Shit - sorry! Your shoulder! I forgot - are you okay?!"

"Nngh, hold on…"

Anya tried to massage her shoulder, trying to work the pain out, but beneath the fabric of her pyjama shirt, the bandages that covered her wound seeped with a warm stickiness.

"Shit," she groaned, and used the elbow of her good arm to try to bring herself up to a sitting position, but before she knew it Damian's solar palms had cradled the middle of her back, helping to push her up.

"Come on, talk to me," he said in a low voice, and even when Anya managed to sit up by herself, his hand didn't leave her back, and instead started rubbing slow circles with his thumb, massaging her gently.

Pain pulsed at her shoulder, and Anya breathed deeply, trying to keep the horrible ache at bay, but her efforts only made her brow sweat with the exertion of it.

"I think," she panted for breath, "my stitches… got loose… somehow…"

"Okay, okay, um, don't panic," Damian's mind whirred beside her, and Anya immediately shut down the part of herself that could hear him. Her pain was already hard to bear, but with his rapid-fire thoughts on top of that, it was too much…

"Help me out here, Anya. What do you need?"

"Um," Anya squinted, even in the darkness the pain brought flashing lights to her eyes. "Need to… stitch back up…"

"Great. Stitches. Cool. Anything else?" His voice seemed to get higher in pitch as he spoke.

"There's pills. Painkillers," she sucked in a breath through her teeth, "in the cabinet."

With her eyes closed, Anya heard Damian shuffling to the edge of the bed, and he walked round quickly to her side. She grimaced as Damian took both of her elbows, guiding her to the edge of the bed, and then to standing.

"Yor keeps the medical kit in the bathroom, right? There's better lighting in there, so come on, and then I'll go wake her -"

"No," Anya rasped. "Don't - don't wake her…"

Damian turned Anya so that she was leaning against him, and guided them both out of the guest bedroom, and all the while he spoke softly to her.

"It'll be alright, just sit tight…"

He was right - the bathroom light was bright, and Anya groaned at the sudden harshness of it. Somehow, he managed to get Anya perched on the closed seat of the toilet, and rummaged through the cabinets, procuring a small blister pack of unpopped pills, and a glass of water.

"It says to take two at a time," he read from the label, and then cracked the capsules through the foil, placing the intimidating oblong pills into her palm.

"I want ten."

"You're having two. Easy..."

A moment later, cool glass met the skin of her other palm, and Anya's fingers reflexively gripped it. She tilted her head back as she dropped the pills onto her tongue, and then gulped down the water, swallowing them whole.

"Good job. Now I'll just go and get-"

Anya reached out instinctively, pinching his sleeve between her thumb and forefinger.

"Please," she rasped, "don't wake them. I just…"

She didn't know how to explain it.

"They've worried about me enough," she eventually settled on saying, but it didn't encapsulate even half of what she felt. That she was so grateful to her parents for helping her, that she felt guilty for them feeling guilty, that she couldn't bear to see her mother's face scrunched in worry and guilt, and hear the thoughts running through their heads about how they should have saved her, that it was all their fault, that if only they got there sooner, maybe they could have saved her, maybe…

Though Anya didn't elaborate, Damian stilled, and he seemed to understand Anya's fears even without her saying them out loud.

"Your bandages need to be changed anyway, right? If it makes it easier for you, I'll take a look," he sighed, and retrieved the medical kit from a lower shelf from the cabinet under the sink. Then, he opened the medical kit by the side of the bath, laying out the various pieces of equipment on the bath shelf; sealed bandages and gauze, cotton buds, antiseptic packets and gloves…

While Damian busied himself with preparing the medical kit, Anya peeled back the collar of her t-shirt, trying to stretch it out to see below it, but Anya didn't have to pull the fabric very hard to know that it wasn't going to work. The fabric was too limited to stretch far enough, and there was no way that anyone would be able to take a look under her bandages if it kept being so restricting.

With Damian's back turned to her, Anya tried her best to ignore the pain of her shoulder, and first wriggled her good arm out of her sleeve, before using it to pull her shirt over her head, and then over her other shoulder. The cold air meeting her skin was unpleasant, but certainly not as unpleasant as the consistent sting of her injury. As the cloth rubbed against the bandage, pulling at it slightly, she sucked a breath through her teeth.

At the sound, Damian looked up immediately. "Are you alright?"

Anya barely had time to make eye contact with Damian before he turned an urgent shade of fluorescent red.

"Anya," he gulped, and tore his eyes away from her, one hand shielding his sight, just as red as his face. "What are you doing?"

"What's wrong?" Anya blinked, her t-shirt hanging limply in her hand. "You've looked at me like this before."

"That was! Different!" Damian hissed, and then pinched the bridge of his nose, his eyes closed in something that looked like frustration. "And I saw, but I didn't look. There's a difference!"

"Oh," said Anya, and unexpected embarrassment flooded over her, tightening her chest, and she swallowed the hard lump that had suddenly formed in her throat. How could she be so stupid? She should have known that Damian wouldn't want to look at her. It was unfair of her to expect that just because she was okay with it, that he automatically would be, too.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to make you feel uncomfortable."

"No. I'm not. Well, what I mean is, I'm just -" he sighed and rubbed the back of his reddened neck, all the while keeping his gaze fixed to a spot on the ceiling. "I'm your boyfriend. So…"

His shoulders raised as he inhaled a deep, visible breath, before firmly meeting her gaze.

"I can handle it."

A subtle tingling crept over Anya's chest, her heart warming, and she smiled weakly. Even her eyes had started to prickle, and she blinked fast, steadying her own heart. The lump in her throat had dissolved into a tightness as gratitude rushed through her.

"Thank you, Damian."

"Yeah, yeah."

He said it casually, probably trying to cover up the fluttering of his own heart, and at that thought, Anya smiled. Her Sy-on boy had come so far from being the angry, insecure boy she had grown up with, and now here he was, trying to act cool for her again.

Damian dragged the stool from the corner of the bathroom to seat himself in front of her, then he turned to the sink, washing his hands quickly.

"I guess four-thirty is way too early to wake your folks," he muttered as he dried his hands, still the same shade of fluorescent red as his face. "Especially since they were kind enough to let me stay the night."

"You know you're always welcome here. They love seeing you."

Damian squirmed with quiet joy, and it made Anya smile all the more, remembering when her parents returned the night before, to find that Damian and Anya had finally reconciled:

It wasn't much longer after they had managed to smooth everything over, before her Mama and Papa returned to the house, leading a very smug Bond on his leash.

Anya and Damian greeted them in the corridor, all smiles and tearful, red-rimmed eyes, and Yor didn't even bother to take off her shoes or coat before she threw her arms around a red-faced Damian and promptly burst into tears.

"We're so proud of you!" she bawled, until Anya batted her mother away.

"Uh-"

"Mama! You're embarrassing him!"

But Damian didn't get a second's break before Loid had clapped him on the shoulder, smiling warmly.

"We're glad to have you back, Damian."

"Th-thanks, Pops," Damian said, trying not to mumble. "It's getting late, so I'll-"

"Nonsense, it's far too late to travel. You'll stay the night here," Loid had insisted, while Yor heartily agreed, much to Damian's embarrassment and simultaneous joy.

It had warmed Anya's heart, especially because her parents knew that Damian's own family life was difficult, to say the least, and so the fact that they welcomed him with open arms, and kept welcoming him… It was enough to make her cry, all over again, knowing just how much they trusted him, and her. And how, although neither of them had said it, it was obvious that they loved him, too.

Anya had told him the exact words before, but they remained true: the fact was, they considered him as part of the family.

"I'm sure they wouldn't mind if you stayed for a bit longer, as well. In fact," she ducked her head shyly, looking up at him through her eyelashes. "You could stay here until the school opens again?"

Damian snapped the blue gloves onto his hands, and grabbed the scissors from the kit, but even though his movements were intentional and his hands were busy, Anya didn't miss the smile curling up the corner of his lips.

"I'll consider it," he said in a low voice, and using his thumb to lift up the edge of the bandage at her collarbone, he passed the open scissor blade beneath it.

The metal was cold against Anya's collarbone, and she shivered.

"I'll be quick," he promised quietly, whispering as his eyes were fixed only on the task.

Anya watched the embarrassment and the uncertainty melt away from his eyes, replaced by firm focus, and he had barely begun snipping away at the bandage before it was already done. Damian carefully unsheathed it from her, taking care that it wasn't pulling at her wound, before he folded it carefully and put it in the bin, quickly moving onto the next task.

A gloved hand hovered above her wound, and Anya could see the stuttering of his breath as he took it in for the first time: a long, thin incision arched over where her neck met her shoulder. For the moment it was still an angry cut, but Dr Hahn had warned Anya that it would scar.

"I'll add it to the collection," she had joked thinly to Dr Hahn, but something told her that Damian wouldn't appreciate the same joke.

"Shit," he breathed, and Anya tensed.

"I know, it's not very pretty. Sorry. Did the stitches come out?"

"No," Damian gulped, shaking his head. "No, they're fine. You don't need to worry about them. It might have reopened a little, but it's okay. There's just a bit of blood…"

He reached for a cotton pad, using it to wipe away the trickles of blood that had emerged from a crack in the healing wound, smeared by the bandages.

His touch was so gentle, and Anya couldn't help but keep her gaze fixed on him as he swabbed at her gently, feeling like her skin was tingling from the touch of a thousand butterflies. The smell of antiseptic singed at her nostrils and made her eyes water - or maybe her eyes were watering at something else - but it barely stung when Damian dabbed at her skin.

"I'm sorry if this stings," he said gently, and his voice thickened. "I'm sorry…"

Anya had the sudden feeling that he wasn't just apologising for the sting.

Carefully, Damian placed the gauze strips over the length of the wound, and sealed them with the microtape, running his finger in a line all around to keep it in place.

"Does this feel okay?"

She nodded, somehow not feeling the pain as much. The painkillers had probably started to kick in, she realised distantly. Though it was still cold enough in the bathroom for her to notice the goosebumps emerging on her forearms. Instinctively, Anya brought her arms around her midriff, trying to keep herself warm.

Damian tugged at the t-shirt still in her grasp. "At least use this if you're going to be cold. I'll be done soon."

She complied, and used the cloth to semi-shield herself from the chill while Damian began unravelling the bandage roll, holding the end of it aloft.

A small tap on her shoulder.

"Just lift this one slightly," he said, and as soon as she did, he passed the bandage roll under her arm, moving to reach behind her and bring it back over several times. Each time, he was close enough to Anya that the warmth of his torso left a trail of stardust tingling all over her skin, and the scent of cinnamon was enough for her to want to close her eyes, and lean into his comfort.

Finally, he pinned the bandage ends together, keeping them in place, and giving Anya's shoulder a quick once-over to make sure that it was all secure. Once he was satisfied that the task was finally complete, Damian sagged with relief.

"I think that's it," he muttered as he stripped off his gloves, turning them inside out with each other, before also disposing of them. "Does it feel okay to you?"

Before that point in time, Anya hadn't had a moment to fully notice the nicks and cuts all over Damian's hand and forearm. Now degloved, the lines all over his skin painted a picture of a memory that Anya wished she could forget. The lines were healing - some better than others - but it still didn't stop the guilt from pricking at her.

She dragged her eyes away from his hand.

"It feels good. I think Mama would be proud," she smiled at him, but to her surprise, he didn't catch her eye, turning away quickly.

Did she do something to make him angry, she wondered, until he cleared his throat, and his ears turned red once again.

"You can put that back on now," he said dryly, one finger pointing at her semi-covered torso, while his head was turned the other way.

Oh, Anya realised. I'm half-naked. I forgot.

Putting her shirt back on wasn't nearly as complicated as taking it off: she just had to do what she did before, but in reverse. Carefully, Anya edged her wounded side through her sleeve, trying not to disrupt the bandages too much, before she pulled it over her head - but the moment she had her eyes covered, she wobbled, unable to sense which direction she was in.

Warm hands stabilised her waist.

"Whoa, steady!"

Damn those painkillers. Without her vision, her balance was ruined.

"I feel weird," Anya groaned, pulling the last of the fabric over her eyes, and finally she could see again. She shoved her good arm through the remaining sleeve, a little too forcefully, but Damian's grip held her as secure as an anchor.

In an effort to keep her from falling over, Damian had leaned in close, so close, and suddenly Anya found herself staring into his warm, aurelian eyes.

"Your eyes are like coins," she said unthinkingly, wondering how on earth the words fell out of her mouth without her permission.

Lucky for her, Damian chuckled, though he didn't move his hands from their place on her waist.

"Are they now?"

"Mm-hmm," she nodded, though the movement made her head spin. "Shiny. Like your hair."

"Right," he breathed, and tilted his head at her, somewhat amused. "Guess that's why you're touching it, then?"

Anya didn't realise that her fingers had embedded in his hair, rubbing across it in the wrong direction, like she would if she was petting Bond.

He snaked his arms around her waist fully, lifting her up from the seated position, and Anya flailed her arm in panic.

"Bah! Release me! I am too young to be launched into space!"

"Your feet are still on the ground, Anya."

She looked down.

"Oh."

"Come on. You're going back to bed," Damian kissed the top of her head, and steered her back out of the bathroom, narrowingly avoiding bumping her shoulder on the doorframe.

She couldn't quite remember getting into bed, but somehow Damian was already pulling the covers over her, and he leaned down to kiss her on her forehead. Anya already felt as though she were floating on clouds, and his lips left a star on her forehead, protecting her with its light.

Exhaustion dragged her eyelids down, but Anya fought the sensation of the blanket of clouds drifting over her, noticing that Damian's shadow wasn't moving from where he had taken a seat beside the bed, watching over her.

"Aren't you gonna sleep…"

Even her breaths had slowed on her behalf, lulling her into calm. As she breathed, he trailed the back of his fingers down her face and neck, slowly, and repeated the motion back and forth, stroking her so softly that Anya had no choice but to turn her head towards him. Her skin felt as though it was being sprinkled with glitter.

"I've got work to do," he said quietly, and if she wasn't imagining it, almost apologetically. "But I'm gonna stay with you to make sure you're okay."

"'Kay," she breathed, her voice barely a whisper between them. "You'll wake me… if I have a nightmare… right?"

"Of course," he responded, just as quietly, but his voice had also thickened with something that made Anya open her eyes again, and look up at him in the early morning light.

It was all in his eyes. The guilt, the deep sorrow. He hovered his hand above her bandaged shoulder, as if reliving the memory of what it was like when she was bleeding on the floor, and he was begging with all of his soul for her to live.

"I'm sorry…" he said again, and his voice wobbled, his face twisting from all the emotions that had suddenly arisen. "You saved my life, probably more times than I'll ever know. You've been protecting me this whole time. I'm sorry I didn't see it before."

Anya was filled with the sudden urge to grab his face and kiss him, but somehow her arm wasn't quite listening to her, and she patted his hand roughly.

"I'm okay, Damian," she said quietly, searching his eyes. "Look. Look. I'm okay now."

Golden eyes, magnified from the unshed tears, blinked at her. He nodded, and exhaled a shuddering breath.

"I believe you," he said softly. "Now get some sleep, will you?"

"'Kay," Anya exhaled a heavy breath, and let the clouds settle over her.

True to his word, Damian stayed with Anya until she fell asleep, and her slow breaths turned into gentle snores. Even then, a part of him didn't want to leave her side, seeing her more peaceful than he had in a while.

Still, it was nearly half-past five in the morning, and Damian couldn't waste any more time. There was far too much to do, and if he wanted to carve out time to spend with Anya later, he would have to shrug away his own exhaustion to clear his schedule. At least he could try to get a head start on it all…

Damian picked up the handle of the landline, and dialled a number he knew off by heart.

"Good morning Arnold, yes, I'm sorry about the early hour. Listen, I have a few favours to ask you…"

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I felt so calm writing this. It was a nice change.

I'm not sure when I'll be able to update next, but it's definitely going to be more plot-oriented, so you can be excited for it! 👀

I'm hoping to post the next chapter in about 3-4 weeks, but we'll see. I appreciate your patience so much in this time 💖

The reason for the delay is that I have Really Big Things to do at work that will need a lot of my time and focus. So it's not even a fun "fanfiction author" excuse or anything like that 😂 I'm just an adult with a job lmao

Take care and look after yourselves, my friends 💖