[No, it's not helpful. Because he's already disoriented from the dream. The strange way everything changed. Having someone else there when no one was before. Someone suddenly in his head.]
(I didn't know I -- it happened again.)
[Part of him almost pulls away from all the sensation of contact. Because once again, he couldn't keep himself in his own brain. And he's so done with this.]
[ Sam answers that question wordlessly - the impression that Shiro isn't alone in having nightmares disturb his sleep, that it's how Sam knew what to try, and a faint hint of apology. Sam shouldn't have gone into Shiro's dream like that without asking if Shiro would be okay with it, it's just - he reacted on instinct, unable to see Shiro in distress like that. ]
(I guess I should thank your sleeping self for reaching out when you needed it, then. I'm glad you did.) [ Yet again he really wishes this is a conversation they could be having face to face, but he'll take what he can get. ] (Are they usually like this?)
[He's shaking his head, in reality. A vague feeling of him doing the same thing in his head. No, he's not mad. It's probably for the best. If Sam didn't wake him up, he might have broadcast it further. To more people.]
[This keeps it contained.]
(Thank me? For showing that off?) [Yeah it might have been better face-to-face, but this way, he feels like he can get some composure back.] (No.)
[He hesitates, before he adds:] (That was... tame.)
(Yeah.) [ It's simple and matter-of-fact, and though Sam doesn't agree with the way Shiro'd phrased it, he doesn't try to adjust the question. The answer is yes, whatever the words Shiro used. ] (I appreciate anything you share with me.)
[ There's the sensation of him pulling back, just a little - if he were there the way he wants to be, it's the difference between wrapping himself up behind Shiro and shifting a little so they can sit close together, knees touching as Sam angles towards him. ]
(Tame compared to what?) [ What are they usually like? ]
[He's clearly trying to talk around this. He doesn't really believe anything related to nightmares should be appreciated. Or so readily accepted. Shouldn't he be trying to fix this?]
[Trying to make it stop?]
(... Vivid. More--) [He's grasping for words, here. He doesn't find any, and instead sends a purposefully blurred out memory. Of burning lights overhead. Sand and dust in the air. Huge shapes striking out. Blood. Dark hands pulling. Pain. The first time he'd seen their captors, huge and overwhelming and so alien, the last time he'd seen Matt, bleeding and terrified and staring up at him. Flashes of his own face in glass and metal, darker hair, face unlined, unscarred.]
[All of those. Brief and flickering and held back just enough to keep them from overwhelming them both.]
(Even in the middle of the night. Wasn't like I was sleeping, anyway.)
[ Shiro might be trying, but Sam's not planning on letting him try to talk around it. He wants to be able to help with Shiro's nightmares - he's had enough of his own. Sam knows that the best way to get rid of the nightmares that are mostly flashbacks is to talk about them, and he knows the difference it can make when you know how to calm yourself down when you wake up from the other kind.
He's also starting to suspect that having someone there when it happens is even better, but that's only something he's been recently circling around.
Sam closes his eyes when Shiro sends the memory at him, breathing slow and steady. It's... very, very different from when he used to keep himself calm despite listening to the traumas his fellow veterans shared with him. But the principle is the same, and Sam's getting better at doing it when the shared memories are literal.
There's nothing like pity from Sam's end of the mental link - just a quiet acknowledgment and the sensation like Sam leaning in closer to press against him more. Wordless support, and Sam will keep the way it twists at his heart to himself. ]
(Sounds like your nightmares are mixed up memories.)
[Well, of course he's going to say that. Of course he's going to ask that. He has to. It's like something coded into his DNA at this point. There's a sense of him pushing his hands through his hair. Just for something to do with them.]
(Maybe. I... don't know. I think I've stopped trying to figure them out, except for trying to not... have them.)
[There hasn't been a single chance to cope or even try to. Not with everything happening... everywhere.]
[ Affection curls out across the mind link, quiet and unobtrusive, but definitely present. Sam's issues about Shiro's lack of self preservation and inability to love himself aside, his concern for others is one of the things that Sam adores about him. And he's not gonna deny the warmth he feels at that question - it's nice, like back on Concordia, both of them taking the time to support each other.
He's just gotta work with Shiro on making it an equal thing. ]
(I'm fine. Clint and I take shifts keeping watch; it helps us sleep better.)
[ They'd started that back in the Raft - for whatever little amount of sleep they could get - but Sam keeps that to himself. Now's not the time. The point is - there's things you can do to help compensate, to get rid of what nightmares you can and deal with the ones you can't. ]
(I know some things that can help, if you'll let me?)
[He doesn't even question who Sam's taking a shift with. He already knew they were close -- they'd been living together already when he'd arrived on Concordia. It just made sense to continue it, here.]
[That whole affection thing is met with the mental version of a slow headshake. A slight sort of smile. Embarrassment. Asking after others is just what he does.]
(I'll... try anything, at this point.) [A pause.] (Sometimes I've thought the only way to stop them is to get my memories back.)
[ He hums softly in agreement. Sam hadn't expected Shiro to call him paranoid, or to question Sam's motivations for it, but it's... nice, that he takes it matter-of-factly. That Sam doesn't feel like he has to defend himself for it.
That instead he gets an embarrassed smile, and it makes Sam chuckle, reaching across the mental link like fingers running through Shiro's hair with another swirl of affection. One day, he'll get Shiro used to it. ]
(Maybe. It's... flashbacks and nightmares, they're memories that are trying to come up one way or another. Sometimes it helps to talk about them, to get them out that way. Makes it less likely that they're gonna keep popping back up.)
[ And there's a moment, there, where Sam realizes that he's not taking his own advice. He knows he needs to talk about the Raft, he's just... not ready. Not ready for it to influence how people think of him, not ready to have to acknowledge it as a part of who he is. Not ready to have to explain why it's an issue for him to those who don't understand it. He keeps that behind his shields, like he always does, but he can't help but feel a little guilty this time. ]
(But there's other things. I use grounding when I'm waking up from one, remind myself who I am, where I am, when I am - a set list of facts that keeps me in reality. I keep my coin by my bed, use those breathing techniques we've been working on. Before you go to bed, if you've got some that happen a lot - focus on them, go through them and then change the ending. Like we did tonight.)
[Sam already told him they were sleeping in shifts. Back on Concordia. It doesn't seem odd they'd continue. Once in a habit, it's probably hard to break. And here, with their... odd ... station-mates, it's better to be safe than sorry.]
[Something like a shiver down his back, at the touch. Even one in his head. Fingers in his hair. Always good. And he's stopped questioning it, by now. Just sort of accepted he's weird like this.]
(Talk about them. Doesn't that just make them... stronger? Clearer?)
[Part of him doesn't want that. Part of him would rather not know, as much as it drives the rest of him crazy. Wondering.]
(And that works? If you realize you're... in the dream? And not back there?)
[ Odd is a good word for it. Shiro's one of the only people who knows that they sleep in shifts - who'd known back on Concordia, and now that they still do it - and Sam's appreciative that he gets it. It also makes him want to offer to do it with Shiro, so he could have someone watching his back when he sleeps, but he's a little less sure on his motivation there.
...it does feel really nice, making Shiro shiver like that. Maybe he should be wondering about his motivation here, too, if it'd just been to soothe or because he's figured out that Shiro likes it. Maybe it can be both. ]
(No, it doesn't. Talking about them's... well, I don't gotta tell you what it's like. That's why you do it with someone you trust. Why we've been working on grounding and breathing and other coping shit to calm down, for whenever you do decide to talk about it.) [ There's a pause, because Sam doesn't always like talking in absolutes like this - everyone's different - it's just... it's true, he's seen it. ] (But it helps, makes them something that can fade instead of something to be afraid of. Every time. You use the skills, you don't give up because it's hard talking about them, I ain't never seen it fail. It helped me.)
[ There's the tiny quirk of a smile. ] (And so has that. It's worked for me, anyway, once I got in the habit. I'm a little out of practice.)
[Hey, he understands. Maybe on more subconscious levels than conscious ones. Maybe... some kind of leftover from the year he doesn't remember. Maybe he'd been in the same situation. With Matt...]
[This time, the shudder is different. Before he pushes it away. Focus.]
[Listen to what's being offered. Try to take it in and put it to use. Keep his head in the conversation, and the present.]
(Sorry it's... taking so long.) [Even if he knows Sam isn't accusing, or demanding he work faster. He feels like he should speak up about it.] (I do trust you. It's... wow, this already sounds awful, but, it's not you. It's me.)
[Hey, at least he admitted it.]
(I'm not giving up. I... just don't know where to start, I guess.)
[ Focus, right. As much as Sam would love to be able to run his fingers through Shiro's hair to wake him up from a nightmare, to kiss him to distract him from it and pull him out of his head - that's not who Sam can be at the moment. Shiro doesn't need a lover right now; he needs the support of someone who knows the tools to help get through this.
He pulls back a little, giving a soft, vaguely amused huff. ]
(You're right, that did sound awful.) [ He gets it, though, and understanding flows between them. ] (I know you're not. You're learning the skills you need, and I hope you're using 'em. You got nothing to be sorry for, man, it doesn't matter how long it takes. But as far as a starting point goes... we can do it right here, if you want.)
[ There's a pause, and his next question is softer. ] (What do you remember?)
(Sorry. I... couldn't think of a better way to phrase it.)
[He would have, if he could. Maybe if he wasn't freshly woken up. Or if he'd actually slept. Something like that. But he's also glad the judgment isn't there. That it's accepted so easily.]
(Doing as best I can. All things considered.) [Sometimes it's hard to remember, on top of everything else. But he's trying. He's doing his best.] (I'm not going back to sleep, so...)
[What does he remember?]
[Not a lot. Being taken. The first time they saw their captors. That ... day at the Arena. Bits and pieces of the fights. Occasional flashes of bright lights overhead, of being held down... like the dream just now. Hallways. Guard patrols.]
(Not a lot.) [He says, but lets those bits of memory filter through. Held back as much as possible. Just to show him a glimpse.]
[ It's fine, it is, and Sam hums quietly as he presses in closer, the phantom sensation of his shoulder against Shiro's. ]
(Your best is more than enough, Shiro.) [ He doesn't just mean the coping skills and the training, but now's not the time for that.
Instead he closes his eyes, letting the little snippets of memory that Shiro shows him wash over him. It's a glimpse, enough to give Sam a pretty good idea of what'd happened - but that's not the point of this. What Sam already knew would've been enough for him; he never felt the need to know the details, not if Shiro didn't want to talk about them. For what they're doing here - he can't just have a good idea of it; he's gotta get Shiro to talk about it. ]
(You're holding back.) [ It's gentle, still without recrimination, but Sam doesn't hesitate to point it out. He reaches back out again, puts a little bit more of himself over their connection, curling around Shiro's mind. Supporting him, trying to give him someone to fall back on. ] (You don't gotta remember it clear enough to show me, you can talk through it. But you can't hold back, not if it's gonna help.)
[He wants to argue, but he can't. He wants to say that it hasn't ever been enough. That if it was enough, then his first team, first mission, would have made it through. There wouldn't have been a need to save Allura, he wouldn't second-guess everything so often.]
[But Sam is going to maintain otherwise. He knows that much by now. So he says nothing, on that point.]
(Didn't want to drag you in again.) [And, to be honest, he didn't like dwelling on those thoughts. If only because of all the gaps. The holes in his memory.] (But that's... good. Because I don't think I remember anything that clearly.)
[ Shiro's right - Sam will maintain otherwise. But he doesn't have to argue for Sam to know that Shiro isn't buying it, and there's only a moment before Sam modifies it.
For me. It's more than enough for me. The correction is wordless, but he sends the idea across their mental link all the same. ]
(Thank you.) [ For worrying about him, he means. For thinking of that. He knows that it's what Shiro does, that he does it for damn near everyone and maybe Sam shouldn't take it so personal, it's just. It's hard not to when there aren't a lot of people Sam gets that from. ] (I'm a hell of a lot better at it than when we first met.)
[ But that's not the point. ]
(It's okay. Start with what you do know, with what lead up to you getting taken, with what you remember during it, and what happened after?)
[Well. In a way, that's easier to accept than everyone taking him on as "enough". Everyone accepting it as "enough". When the last thing he remembers doing for the team amounts to letting them down. All of them.]
[He'll accept that, though, from Sam, if nothing else. And for now.]
(Getting better than me pretty quick.)
[He means it as a compliment. And there's no ire in the comment. Just a sort of admiration. And respect. The muted sensation of a sigh. His own hands pushing through his hair.]
(Nothing lead up to it. Nothing we could tell...) [Because they'd been so happy. Everything had been good. Cold -- space and fields of ice and the only human beings on an entire planet. Dry humor and what had to be the last time he'd seen Matt really smile.]
[He can't keep all that to himself. Of course it filters through. All of that, and the sudden, alien shape blocking out the stars.]
(They were just... there. Out of nowhere. We tried getting back to the ship but...)
[He trails off. Remembering searing light. Grabbing their hands and running. Pulling and shoving them ahead. And it hadn't done any good.]
(Spent a long time learning how, I just had to adjust things a little.)
[ Sam takes it for the compliment it is, and can't help but be just a little bit pleased by that respect. It's... nice, to feel that someone he cares about as much as he does Shiro thinks well of him.
But that's not the reason he's here, and Sam falls quiet as Shiro talks. There's the obvious sense through their mental link that he's listening, attention focused on what Shiro's saying - and even as he takes in the memories they call up, he lets them back go.
He breathes in, breathes out, and sinks more of himself into his connection with Shiro. Until he might as well be right there with him, hands laced together and his forehead pressed against Shiro's. Keeping him grounded, an anchor to remind him to stay here and not go back, even as he pulls up those memories. ]
[How can he think anything but good of Sam? Really? After everything they've been through so far? How can he think anything less?]
[It is obvious. And it's helpful. In its own way -- because wow, he doesn't want to talk about this. He hasn't ever wanted to talk about this. The others just stopped asking. Stopped probing. He was grateful for that too. But he wants the dreams to stop. Wants the flashes to stop.]
[Just focus on the other presence. Just talk.]
(I don't remember how they... took us. I just remember being there. Trying to get them to let us go. But they just dragged us all off.)
[There hadn't even been a chance to fight back. They'd all been overpowered. Caught off-guard. And the next thing he knew were prison walls and terror.]
[And then nothing. Just a blank.]
(... it must have been a long time. Before they split us all up for good. But I don't know. There's nothing there until... they took us to the arena.)
[His mental voice falters, there. The memory harsh and clear, sharp as broken glass against the blank space before it.]
[ Well. Most days Sam thinks pretty good of himself, too, even if there are still some off days, but that's not the point. The point is that Shiro thinks well of him. That a guy he cares about cares about him back.
Sometimes he's a little bit sappy.
He stays focused on Shiro as he keeps talking, breathing nice and even and letting it flow over their link to remind Shiro to do the same. Breathe, you're safe, I'm here even as he takes everything that Shiro's giving him and holds it tight, trying to take some of the weight, just a little.
When Shiro falters, Sam doesn't press right away. Instead there's the sensation of him squeezing Shiro's hands. ]
(Can you tell me five things you see in your room?)
[Right. Right, he remembers now. That strategy. He has to breathe first. Follow through with that first instruction.]
[If nothing else, he's good at following orders.]
(Sam, I... don't think there's... five things in my room.) [A sense of thready, weak humor. It's supposed to be funny. Not turning down or ignoring the suggestion. Just -- Shiro's other coping strategy.]
(Me. The... bed. Armor. Clothes. Old... coffee mug.) [Damn he needs to clean that up.]
[ It's supposed to be funny, and it is. Fortunately, he and Sam have very similar senses of humor, and he gives a quiet chuckle across the mental link.
Yeah, yeah, all right, funny guy. Sam's pretty sure that means it worked to get Shiro out of his head and back in the now, to break the chain before he could get completely caught up in the memory.
He squeezes Shiro's hands again, gently bringing them back to Shiro's re-telling. ]
[He'll take that. The short little laugh. It's a nice break. A nice change from everything else pounding through his head. Like the ache at the back of his skull. Lack of sleep, probably.]
[Right. Retelling. He can do this. He's got this. For a moment, he thinks he does. Then Sam has to go and ask that.]
[What happened in the arena?]
[Cold settles hard in his chest. There's only one fight he remembers with any bit of clarity, but even that... What happened in the arena? What did happen? How many people did he What happened in the arena? What happened in the arena?]
[C H A M P I O N]
[Whispers coiling out from the ache in his head. His arm hurts. His hands flinch away from where Sam is holding them, in their minds. Before he can blurt out two words:]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
sizeofyourbaggage) wrote2016-05-22 03:26 pm
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[No, it's not helpful. Because he's already disoriented from the dream. The strange way everything changed. Having someone else there when no one was before. Someone suddenly in his head.]
(I didn't know I -- it happened again.)
[Part of him almost pulls away from all the sensation of contact. Because once again, he couldn't keep himself in his own brain. And he's so done with this.]
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( I guess I should thank your sleeping self for reaching out when you needed it, then. I'm glad you did. ) [ Yet again he really wishes this is a conversation they could be having face to face, but he'll take what he can get. ] ( Are they usually like this? )
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[This keeps it contained.]
(Thank me? For showing that off?) [Yeah it might have been better face-to-face, but this way, he feels like he can get some composure back.] (No.)
[He hesitates, before he adds:] (That was... tame.)
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[ There's the sensation of him pulling back, just a little - if he were there the way he wants to be, it's the difference between wrapping himself up behind Shiro and shifting a little so they can sit close together, knees touching as Sam angles towards him. ]
( Tame compared to what? ) [ What are they usually like? ]
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[He's clearly trying to talk around this. He doesn't really believe anything related to nightmares should be appreciated. Or so readily accepted. Shouldn't he be trying to fix this?]
[Trying to make it stop?]
(... Vivid. More--) [He's grasping for words, here. He doesn't find any, and instead sends a purposefully blurred out memory. Of burning lights overhead. Sand and dust in the air. Huge shapes striking out. Blood. Dark hands pulling. Pain. The first time he'd seen their captors, huge and overwhelming and so alien, the last time he'd seen Matt, bleeding and terrified and staring up at him. Flashes of his own face in glass and metal, darker hair, face unlined, unscarred.]
[All of those. Brief and flickering and held back just enough to keep them from overwhelming them both.]
(... like that.)
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[ Shiro might be trying, but Sam's not planning on letting him try to talk around it. He wants to be able to help with Shiro's nightmares - he's had enough of his own. Sam knows that the best way to get rid of the nightmares that are mostly flashbacks is to talk about them, and he knows the difference it can make when you know how to calm yourself down when you wake up from the other kind.
He's also starting to suspect that having someone there when it happens is even better, but that's only something he's been recently circling around.
Sam closes his eyes when Shiro sends the memory at him, breathing slow and steady. It's... very, very different from when he used to keep himself calm despite listening to the traumas his fellow veterans shared with him. But the principle is the same, and Sam's getting better at doing it when the shared memories are literal.
There's nothing like pity from Sam's end of the mental link - just a quiet acknowledgment and the sensation like Sam leaning in closer to press against him more. Wordless support, and Sam will keep the way it twists at his heart to himself. ]
( Sounds like your nightmares are mixed up memories. )
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[Well, of course he's going to say that. Of course he's going to ask that. He has to. It's like something coded into his DNA at this point. There's a sense of him pushing his hands through his hair. Just for something to do with them.]
(Maybe. I... don't know. I think I've stopped trying to figure them out, except for trying to not... have them.)
[There hasn't been a single chance to cope or even try to. Not with everything happening... everywhere.]
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He's just gotta work with Shiro on making it an equal thing. ]
( I'm fine. Clint and I take shifts keeping watch; it helps us sleep better. )
[ They'd started that back in the Raft - for whatever little amount of sleep they could get - but Sam keeps that to himself. Now's not the time. The point is - there's things you can do to help compensate, to get rid of what nightmares you can and deal with the ones you can't. ]
( I know some things that can help, if you'll let me? )
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[He doesn't even question who Sam's taking a shift with. He already knew they were close -- they'd been living together already when he'd arrived on Concordia. It just made sense to continue it, here.]
[That whole affection thing is met with the mental version of a slow headshake. A slight sort of smile. Embarrassment. Asking after others is just what he does.]
(I'll... try anything, at this point.) [A pause.] (Sometimes I've thought the only way to stop them is to get my memories back.)
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That instead he gets an embarrassed smile, and it makes Sam chuckle, reaching across the mental link like fingers running through Shiro's hair with another swirl of affection. One day, he'll get Shiro used to it. ]
( Maybe. It's... flashbacks and nightmares, they're memories that are trying to come up one way or another. Sometimes it helps to talk about them, to get them out that way. Makes it less likely that they're gonna keep popping back up. )
[ And there's a moment, there, where Sam realizes that he's not taking his own advice. He knows he needs to talk about the Raft, he's just... not ready. Not ready for it to influence how people think of him, not ready to have to acknowledge it as a part of who he is. Not ready to have to explain why it's an issue for him to those who don't understand it. He keeps that behind his shields, like he always does, but he can't help but feel a little guilty this time. ]
( But there's other things. I use grounding when I'm waking up from one, remind myself who I am, where I am, when I am - a set list of facts that keeps me in reality. I keep my coin by my bed, use those breathing techniques we've been working on. Before you go to bed, if you've got some that happen a lot - focus on them, go through them and then change the ending. Like we did tonight. )
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[Something like a shiver down his back, at the touch. Even one in his head. Fingers in his hair. Always good. And he's stopped questioning it, by now. Just sort of accepted he's weird like this.]
(Talk about them. Doesn't that just make them... stronger? Clearer?)
[Part of him doesn't want that. Part of him would rather not know, as much as it drives the rest of him crazy. Wondering.]
(And that works? If you realize you're... in the dream? And not back there?)
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...it does feel really nice, making Shiro shiver like that. Maybe he should be wondering about his motivation here, too, if it'd just been to soothe or because he's figured out that Shiro likes it. Maybe it can be both. ]
( No, it doesn't. Talking about them's... well, I don't gotta tell you what it's like. That's why you do it with someone you trust. Why we've been working on grounding and breathing and other coping shit to calm down, for whenever you do decide to talk about it. ) [ There's a pause, because Sam doesn't always like talking in absolutes like this - everyone's different - it's just... it's true, he's seen it. ] ( But it helps, makes them something that can fade instead of something to be afraid of. Every time. You use the skills, you don't give up because it's hard talking about them, I ain't never seen it fail. It helped me. )
[ There's the tiny quirk of a smile. ] ( And so has that. It's worked for me, anyway, once I got in the habit. I'm a little out of practice. )
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[This time, the shudder is different. Before he pushes it away. Focus.]
[Listen to what's being offered. Try to take it in and put it to use. Keep his head in the conversation, and the present.]
(Sorry it's... taking so long.) [Even if he knows Sam isn't accusing, or demanding he work faster. He feels like he should speak up about it.] (I do trust you. It's... wow, this already sounds awful, but, it's not you. It's me.)
[Hey, at least he admitted it.]
(I'm not giving up. I... just don't know where to start, I guess.)
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He pulls back a little, giving a soft, vaguely amused huff. ]
( You're right, that did sound awful. ) [ He gets it, though, and understanding flows between them. ] ( I know you're not. You're learning the skills you need, and I hope you're using 'em. You got nothing to be sorry for, man, it doesn't matter how long it takes. But as far as a starting point goes... we can do it right here, if you want. )
[ There's a pause, and his next question is softer. ] ( What do you remember? )
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[He would have, if he could. Maybe if he wasn't freshly woken up. Or if he'd actually slept. Something like that. But he's also glad the judgment isn't there. That it's accepted so easily.]
(Doing as best I can. All things considered.) [Sometimes it's hard to remember, on top of everything else. But he's trying. He's doing his best.] (I'm not going back to sleep, so...)
[What does he remember?]
[Not a lot. Being taken. The first time they saw their captors. That ... day at the Arena. Bits and pieces of the fights. Occasional flashes of bright lights overhead, of being held down... like the dream just now. Hallways. Guard patrols.]
(Not a lot.) [He says, but lets those bits of memory filter through. Held back as much as possible. Just to show him a glimpse.]
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( Your best is more than enough, Shiro. ) [ He doesn't just mean the coping skills and the training, but now's not the time for that.
Instead he closes his eyes, letting the little snippets of memory that Shiro shows him wash over him. It's a glimpse, enough to give Sam a pretty good idea of what'd happened - but that's not the point of this. What Sam already knew would've been enough for him; he never felt the need to know the details, not if Shiro didn't want to talk about them. For what they're doing here - he can't just have a good idea of it; he's gotta get Shiro to talk about it. ]
( You're holding back. ) [ It's gentle, still without recrimination, but Sam doesn't hesitate to point it out. He reaches back out again, puts a little bit more of himself over their connection, curling around Shiro's mind. Supporting him, trying to give him someone to fall back on. ] ( You don't gotta remember it clear enough to show me, you can talk through it. But you can't hold back, not if it's gonna help. )
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[But Sam is going to maintain otherwise. He knows that much by now. So he says nothing, on that point.]
(Didn't want to drag you in again.) [And, to be honest, he didn't like dwelling on those thoughts. If only because of all the gaps. The holes in his memory.] (But that's... good. Because I don't think I remember anything that clearly.)
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For me. It's more than enough for me. The correction is wordless, but he sends the idea across their mental link all the same. ]
( Thank you. ) [ For worrying about him, he means. For thinking of that. He knows that it's what Shiro does, that he does it for damn near everyone and maybe Sam shouldn't take it so personal, it's just. It's hard not to when there aren't a lot of people Sam gets that from. ] ( I'm a hell of a lot better at it than when we first met. )
[ But that's not the point. ]
( It's okay. Start with what you do know, with what lead up to you getting taken, with what you remember during it, and what happened after? )
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[He'll accept that, though, from Sam, if nothing else. And for now.]
(Getting better than me pretty quick.)
[He means it as a compliment. And there's no ire in the comment. Just a sort of admiration. And respect. The muted sensation of a sigh. His own hands pushing through his hair.]
(Nothing lead up to it. Nothing we could tell...) [Because they'd been so happy. Everything had been good. Cold -- space and fields of ice and the only human beings on an entire planet. Dry humor and what had to be the last time he'd seen Matt really smile.]
[He can't keep all that to himself. Of course it filters through. All of that, and the sudden, alien shape blocking out the stars.]
(They were just... there. Out of nowhere. We tried getting back to the ship but...)
[He trails off. Remembering searing light. Grabbing their hands and running. Pulling and shoving them ahead. And it hadn't done any good.]
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[ Sam takes it for the compliment it is, and can't help but be just a little bit pleased by that respect. It's... nice, to feel that someone he cares about as much as he does Shiro thinks well of him.
But that's not the reason he's here, and Sam falls quiet as Shiro talks. There's the obvious sense through their mental link that he's listening, attention focused on what Shiro's saying - and even as he takes in the memories they call up, he lets them back go.
He breathes in, breathes out, and sinks more of himself into his connection with Shiro. Until he might as well be right there with him, hands laced together and his forehead pressed against Shiro's. Keeping him grounded, an anchor to remind him to stay here and not go back, even as he pulls up those memories. ]
( Keep going, sweetheart, you're doing good. )
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[It is obvious. And it's helpful. In its own way -- because wow, he doesn't want to talk about this. He hasn't ever wanted to talk about this. The others just stopped asking. Stopped probing. He was grateful for that too. But he wants the dreams to stop. Wants the flashes to stop.]
[Just focus on the other presence. Just talk.]
(I don't remember how they... took us. I just remember being there. Trying to get them to let us go. But they just dragged us all off.)
[There hadn't even been a chance to fight back. They'd all been overpowered. Caught off-guard. And the next thing he knew were prison walls and terror.]
[And then nothing. Just a blank.]
(... it must have been a long time. Before they split us all up for good. But I don't know. There's nothing there until... they took us to the arena.)
[His mental voice falters, there. The memory harsh and clear, sharp as broken glass against the blank space before it.]
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Sometimes he's a little bit sappy.
He stays focused on Shiro as he keeps talking, breathing nice and even and letting it flow over their link to remind Shiro to do the same. Breathe, you're safe, I'm here even as he takes everything that Shiro's giving him and holds it tight, trying to take some of the weight, just a little.
When Shiro falters, Sam doesn't press right away. Instead there's the sensation of him squeezing Shiro's hands. ]
( Can you tell me five things you see in your room? )
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[Right. Right, he remembers now. That strategy. He has to breathe first. Follow through with that first instruction.]
[If nothing else, he's good at following orders.]
(Sam, I... don't think there's... five things in my room.) [A sense of thready, weak humor. It's supposed to be funny. Not turning down or ignoring the suggestion. Just -- Shiro's other coping strategy.]
(Me. The... bed. Armor. Clothes. Old... coffee mug.) [Damn he needs to clean that up.]
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Yeah, yeah, all right, funny guy. Sam's pretty sure that means it worked to get Shiro out of his head and back in the now, to break the chain before he could get completely caught up in the memory.
He squeezes Shiro's hands again, gently bringing them back to Shiro's re-telling. ]
( What happened in the arena? )
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[Right. Retelling. He can do this. He's got this. For a moment, he thinks he does. Then Sam has to go and ask that.]
[What happened in the arena?]
[Cold settles hard in his chest. There's only one fight he remembers with any bit of clarity, but even that... What happened in the arena? What did happen? How many people did he What happened in the arena? What happened in the arena?]
[C H A M P I O N]
[Whispers coiling out from the ache in his head. His arm hurts. His hands flinch away from where Sam is holding them, in their minds. Before he can blurt out two words:]
(I won.)
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