#or jacob with his heart pounding on his ribs from adrenaline dropping to his knees for evie to see how injured she is.

[quietwingsinthesky]

can’t sleep. pulling out the big guns (<- thinking about jacob & evie kissing)

[halfgclden]

SWORDS | CHASE

trigger warnings: violence, blood, torture, teeth?

Chase woke up with a swift kick to the ribs. The soft groan he exhaled sent a wave of pain through his body, like he’d pressed on a wound that went far deeper than he could have imagined. The only thing that wasn’t on fire was the forearm folded under him, numb.

“Ah, good, you’re awake.” The voice was gruff, somewhat familiar, but not recognizable. A hand grabbed Chase by his hair and pulled him up so that he would look at them. It was one of the men from the fight. Chase clenched his teeth as he braced himself, and tasted blood again. There was definitely something wrong with his teeth, but he had other things to worry about.

He struggled and brought his knee up, but the man just slammed Chase’s face into the wall again. “No, no. You’re not going to do that. You’re going to tell us why you’re here. What you want with Mr. Fox.” Chase spit out a tooth and closed his eyes. He shook his head as best he could while it was being held against the wall. He was dropped to the floor again, and curled into a ball. “Okay, well if you’re not going to tell us, I guess we’ll have to ask your friend.”

Chase heard the sound of a door unlocking, a few footsteps, a whimper. He raised his head to see Ben, beaten within an inch of his life, a knife held to his throat. “Chase,” he croaked. “Don’t tell them any-“ He earned himself a jab to the ribs, which made Chase wince sympathetically.  

“Well?” The first man looked at Chase with a grin as the second moved the blade closer to Ben’s throat. Chase spit out another tooth.

“I’m… we’re looking for a hag,” Chase sobbed. “We’re trying to stop the nightmares, please. We’re just trying to help the town.” Another tooth fell from Chase’s mouth, and then another, and then, with a horrifying realization, Chase checked his eyes. He saw blue.

Chase melted into the wall, turned invisible, pushed himself away, away, and out.

•

Chase woke up, head hanging, and he opened his eyes but didn’t move, in case someone was in the room with him. He was in a chair, he was pretty sure, with his arms tied down to the arms of it, and, from what it felt like, his legs were tied as well. From the angle at which his head was dipped, he could see that he was wearing a pendant, but he remembered that the old one had been destroyed, so he figured that he must be dreaming. Chase pushed himself away, and out, and checked his eyes. He remained, and he saw nothing. This was real.

He stared at the pendant, trying to figure out what was off about it, but could barely manage to keep his eyes open. He clenched his teeth, mouth ringing in pain as he did, but even that didn’t help as he was ripped from consciousness, pushed into the astral sea, into the black and inky void.

•

There was something menacing in the way that the dogs’ jaws snapped when they ate, despite the fact that Chase could not see what they were eating. He didn’t know if he could smell the food, but he was salivating. It had been a long time since he’d eaten, they hadn’t fed him since they tied him up and left him here, presumably to die in some awful manner. Chase leaned his head back against the wall. They'd let the dogs in… he couldn’t tell if it had been days or hours ago, but it wasn’t as though he’d been counting the seconds. His mind swirled as he’d thought about how much time had passed.

One of the beasts approached him and licked his face, hot breath against cold skin. He wondered what they needed him for, how they’d gotten him there, if he was already dead or just going to die soon. He reached up and pet the tiger, who nodded, resting its head in Chase’s lap. There was something wrong, something told him. Maybe it was himself. He thought about not being tied up, and wasn’t anymore. He could have cried.

He stood, his tiger at his side, and called out to the hag. “If you want me, come face me! I want you here! Now!”

He was the child of Morpheus. He was dreaming. He could do this.

Chase saw her eyes before he saw the rest of her, sharp teeth and crooked angles. He was in a wasteland. There were crows, he was watching Milo die. Chase materialized a sword into his hand and held it out towards the hag. “You can’t fool me. I know I’m dreaming, I know Milo’s dead. I know this isn’t real.” He charged.

The sword met her arm, but she shifted, now taking the face of Milo, who was still on the ground near Chase. He gasped and sputtered as Chase hacked into him. “Why do you hate me? What made you leave and do this, Chase?” Milo sobbed, and Chase grit his teeth. He brought his foot up to kick Milo in the chest, and as the hag hit the ground, her appearance shifted, turning back into her. She looked up at Chase with fear in her eyes, and as he brought the sword down, it disappeared, turning to smoke in his hands. 

He called out angrily and dropped to his knees on top of the hag, bringing his elbow down on her chest, followed by two punches. “I’m going to kill you,” he growled, grabbing her by the collar of her ratty shirt. “I’m going to kill you for daring to look like my brother.” Chase punched the hag, and punched, and punched, and felt a hand on his side, a warmth as he was ripped from the dream.

•

Chase struggled when Caspar first touched him, but he went limp in Ellie’s arms. His eyes fluttered open. He breathed heavily, still waking up. His heart pounded in his chest as he looked around at their panicked faces. “Was I yelling?”

Caspar looked horrified, at a loss for words. Ellie was on the phone, speaking rapidly through tears for someone to come. Chase realized that he was sitting on a body. “Guys, please…” He looked at his hands. There was blood. He felt sick. “What.. what happened?”

The body below him didn’t move, but Chase knew that he was in Jesse’s room. He felt sick. “Guys…”

Chase looked down, finally facing the bloody mess that he knew was Jesse. He didn’t move. Jesse’s name caught in Chase’s throat, and he pressed a hand to his chest. There was a faint heartbeat. “Guys, guys, we have to… we have to get him to the hospital!” There was so much blood it covered Chase up to his elbows. “Guys,” his voice cracked.

Ellie and Caspar were gone. He couldn’t tell if they’d left or if they were never there. All there was was Chase and the mangled corpse that was once his brother. Blood seeped through the sheets, soaking Chase’s legs.

•

Suddenly, Chase was awake. His head was hanging, his arms were wrapped to those of a chair. He slowly lifted his head, and was met with a bright smile. “Hello, Chase Peterson.”

Chase stared at Vernon Fox, haggard, still shaking from the dream he’d been ripped out of. He spat at his feet, earning himself a slap across the face. “I’ve heard you made a habit of that.” His teeth felt like they were vibrating in his mouth.

“Chase, I am going to speak, and you are going to listen, okay?” Vernon didn’t wait for a response before he continued on. “You and your friend have done a terrible job at covering your tracks, so I know that you are after me, gathering information, trying to find some way to stop me, yes?”

Chase just blinked at him and didn’t speak.

“Yes,” Vernon responded to himself, smile gleaming. “I know that you are a son of the god of dreams, and that the hag can steal your power to grow more powerful. Did you know this, Chase? Did you know that with each dream you have, you are only making the hag, and me, stronger?”

Chase didn’t know where he was going with this. He thought about his eyes and saw only the man in front of him.

“You see, Chase,” each time Vernon said his name, a shot of adrenaline ran through Chase. He needed to hit him. He needed to break free. “I don’t know much about how this dream world mumbo jumbo works, but I’ve found out that I can control it with this.” He produced a chain with a pendant, almost identical to the one that Morpheus had given to him, but inverted. He’d seen it around his neck the last time that he woke up. The inside of the pendant swirled, and Chase licked his lips, still silent.

“And while I’m not exactly… acquainted with magic and all that, I do know this; that if someone is taking something from you to make themselves stronger, you’re only getting weaker as a result, yes?” He paused to let Chase answer, and sighed when he didn’t get one. “Yes. The answer is yes. Do you feel weak, Chase? Do you feel as though we are sucking the life out of you?”

Chase thought about the town, about how its resources were being pulled away from it to feed this man, to line his pockets, to add fuel to his fire. He was a parasite, glutting himself on the things that the town produced. 

“You have the ability to trick people, right? To make them see things and think things that aren’t real? Imagine that power combined with how strong the hag is now.” His smile was sharp.

Chase shook his head and didn’t answer. He thought about how the people they’d met praised Vernon, how long they’d been sapping his power for, how much he could have contributed to it already. He struggled against the ropes to see if they would give, and Vernon let out a friendly laugh as he brought the back of his hand across Chase’s face again. 

“Chase, you will not escape unless I let you out, do you understand?” Chase could taste blood. He tipped his head back as he looked at Vernon, a fire growing in his chest. He would escape. He willed it, he knew it, he could escape. It would be the cards that Jacob had pulled, teamwork, balance restored, homecoming and celebration. Prophets could not be wrong.

Vernon leaned down a bit so that he was eye level with Chase. “Nobody is coming to get you. Your friend is dead. And you will end up the same way unless you agree to work with me.”

Chase drew his eyebrows together, and Vernon sighed. “Look, I’m a reasonable man. I don’t want to have to kill anyone. I’m fine with letting you help me out, I’ll even give you a cut. You can learn a thing or two about business, since you were so interested in it the other day, right?”

“He’s… dead?” Chase spoke for the first time since waking up. His own voice was almost jarring to hear.

“Ah, well, if you boys hadn’t fought so hard, maybe that wouldn’t’ve been necessary, right?”

Chase remembered Ben on the ground, remembered hiding him, remembered waking up. He closed his eyes. He remembered the last card that Jacob had pulled. Desolation, ruin, rock bottom. He swallowed and opened his eyes again, frowning.

“Look, Chase, I’ve given you the choice, now you must take it. Are you going to sit here while I take your power, or are you going to let me untie you, become a business partner, and not have nightmares until you eventually die?”

“Eat shit.”

Vernon sighed again and placed the necklace around Chase’s neck. “Goodnight, Chase.”

As soon as the pendant was around his neck, Chase felt as though there was a weight on his chest. His eyes drooped, but he forced them open. His head nodded, and he tried to shake it, to keep the sleep from overtaking him. He didn’t want to sleep, he didn’t want to sleep, he would give anything to not fall asleep.

Chase fell asleep.

•

Chase didn’t know much about tarot. He knew what Caspar and Graves had explained and shown him, knew that Death didn’t actually mean a bad thing apparently, there there was the Moon and the Star and the cups. He remembered a few of the cards that Jacob had pulled. He knew there was a Three for teamwork, the Wheel of Fortune for some sort of balance, Justice for Ben, and he knew the Ten of Swords.

He remembered once looking over Graves’s shoulder, sucking in a breath. “I wouldn’t want to be that guy.” He’d laughed at the time, looking down at the card that illustrated a man lying face down, swords stuck into every available spot on his back. 

Chase knew that he was dreaming. He knew that he was not actually chained to a wall, that Milo was not standing before him, holding a knife, and yet he could not change it. Each time he tried to shift the dream, the weight in his chest just got heavier. Milo looked small before Chase, and he looked sad to be holding his knife.

Milo is a constellation, Chase told himself, dad made him a constellation and none of this is real. He felt as the knife entered his stomach, a sort of indescribable pain, one that made Chase scream out without meaning to, one that made every muscle in his body tense, that triggered his flight or fight response, and yet he could not move.

“That was because you left me, Chase. That was because you left me and I died and you never even said goodbye.” 

Chase knew why Milo was stabbing him. He knew why Rocket would stand before him next, and why Blue would after that. Knowing didn’t make it any better. It shifted to Malia, who stabbed him in the leg for lying to her about the cocaine, then to Koda, for never telling her that anything was wrong.

Halfway through and Chase didn’t know if he could bear it. He longed to be able to pass out from the pain, but instead it just continued, every part of his body throbbing as he writhed. When he moved to try and escape the reach of one blade, he aggravated the others, which would just shift in his skin, causing the wounds to only grow deeper.

Ben appeared before him, knife in hand, and Chase shuddered. He thought about the last time that he and Ben had encountered each other like this. He wondered if these wounds were seeping through his pyjamas, down the chair, ruining Vernon’s perfect suit and perfect floor in his perfect house. He wanted the hag to stop taking her time with them, tried to will Ben to just cut his throat there, to cut the hag off, to end the endurance test that was this nightmare.

"Ben," Chase spoke through blood. It rushed past his lips and over his chin, warm and sweet. "I'm sorry. I thought I could hide you." He didn't know why he was speaking to what he knew was the hag, but guilt gripped his chest. This was the only chance he'd get to apologize to him, even if it wasn't him. He closed his eyes but still saw Ben. "Can you just make it quick? I think it needs to get to ten. Just... sorry. Fuck."

Chase watched as Ben dropped the knife, his heart pounded in his ears. “Chase. Fuck. Where are you?” He tried to pull the chains off of him. "I'm trying to find you, Chase."

Maybe this was a trick, but something made Chase want to trust this. "Um, I dunno. I don't know. I'm tied to a chair." He struggled to get the words out, as though they were physically sticking to his throat, but he choked them out, another wave of blood surging past his lips. "Where are you, Ben? Are you alive?"

“I am.” Ben frowned as he spoke, looking back to Chase. “Focus on another dream. I’ll find you.”

It was Ben, really Ben, Chase was almost sure. He had to be sure. There was mild panic at his words, and he struggled, pain ripping through his body as he did. "Wait, don't go. Focus on the dream with me. I don't know if I can change it without you." He was afraid of Ben leaving, of him ending up alone. At least if Ben was there he might be able to cling to some reality, work past the pendant keeping him asleep and controlled by the hag. "Please. Think of the place we'd go. The pendant." He realized that that place didn't exist anymore and shook his head. "You know the bonfire? Let's go to the bonfire." He was crying. He closed his eyes and thought about sitting at the bonfire, about being warm, about being safe.

There was a look on Ben’s face that Chase had never seen on him before. Pity? He thought it was pity. He put his hands gently on Chase’s face. “I’m not leaving without you.” It was a promise, and somehow, Ben's hands on his face steadied him. Ben was not dead, he was coming to get him, he was alive and he was going to help him and they were going to go home. He thought about home, he thought about the bonfire. 

They were sitting under stars, the fire blaring in front of them. Chase exhaled a sigh of relief, then shook his head. "I'm... that guy has me. Fox. He was talking to me. He has.... a thing. It's like our pendant, but different." His head was swimming. "I think they're going to kill me." He looked down at himself. There were no knives, but he still felt every wound. "Ben." He looked up at him, eyes flashing. "You have to get me my sword. You have to."

“You’re not at the lighthouse?” Before Chase could respond, Ben answered himself. "You're not." He looked at Chase, brow creased. "I think I know where you are but I don’t— I don’t know how to get there” Ben looked up at the sky, and Chase followed his eyes, watching as the stars turned sinister. A hand reached out and grabbed Ben, pulled him away from Chase. He’d hardly had time to react, to grasp desperately and hopelessly at Ben when he was gone. 

Chase wrapped his arms around himself, hoping for an end, wishing to live in this moment of calm forever, for even just a second more, but the darkness creeped in around him, rotting away the edges of his dream, and soon the bonfire was nothing but a wisp of smoke, false hope in an endless void of distress.

•

Chase woke up in a desert. 

Chase woke up in a chair.

He woke up to needles.

He woke up to dead people, to living people, to those he wasn’t sure of anymore.

He bled. He screamed. He slept. He dreamed.