Viktor woke up in a cage.

"No, no, no, no, no-" he tried to move, but the sharp, throbbing pain from his stomach told him to stop. "Vok'Rul? Vok'Rul?"

An unfamiliar alien's face showed up in the front of his cage. He slammed his fist against the thin bars, feeling the wounds on his stomach protest at the sharp movement. But he had no time for pain. It startled, jerking backward with a harsh flinch. It called to someone, and Viktor snapped, nearly incoherent with panic, "Where is he?"

He was still moving sluggishly, clothing sticky with his, Vok'Rul's, and that snake creature's blood, so it hadn't been long since he had been sedated. Vok'Rul might still be with aliens that wanted to kill him. Using his panic as a motivator, Viktor thought quickly. He seemed to be in a carrier, though it looked more industrial than domestic. Still, he assumed that they worked the same, and that was by opening with something on the top.

But maybe he could activate it through the bottom.

He curled his hand into a fist and began punching the middle of the carrier, trying to feel any type of resistance. The material the carrier was made out of was hard and rigid, and soon, Viktor's knuckles began to ache.

He felt the scratches on his stomach tear, and he moaned in pain, gritting his teeth. He fell back onto the floor when he couldn't carry on. Stupid idea, he thought to himself. Now, he just had more wounds on his stomach and achy, bloodied knuckles to go along with them.

He wasn't made to ruminate on his guilt and worry for much longer, because Rukka appeared in front of his cage.

"Rukka!" he gasped, turning onto his side and using his hand to push himself into a sitting position. The blood that had pooled underneath him in his attempt to escape made him slip. The sudden movement made him dizzy for a second. "Where's Vok'Rul? He's hurt!"

Rukka took one look at him before her face got angry. She whirled around to the alien he had woken up to and started yelling at him, growls and grunts filling the air. The sheer volume of her tirade made his ears ring.

"Flakmna, flakmna," the alien kept apologizing, hastily going over to the cage. Before Rukka could even get out a "neyk!", the alien had opened it, and Viktor launched himself out of the cage before he could think of a plan.

Unfortunately, his lack of foresight hit him sooner than he thought. The carrier had been on a table. He fell off said table.

He landed with a sickening crack as his head connected with the floor. He whimpered in pain, pushing himself up unsteadily. Gentle hands grabbed him, and he smacked them away angrily. "Vok'Rul," he mumbled through the thick haze in his head.

"Teyk, Kohgrash," he heard Rukka say to him. "Rul to tih."

He slumped in relief, only avoiding another collision with the floor when Rukka's hands caught him. Vok'Rul was okay, he was okay.

Viktor felt another prick on his neck, and he couldn't muster up the energy to take this one out. He fell unconscious again, quickly. He felt only relief as his pain fell away.

***

When he woke up again, he was at the mansion. It was dark, and he was lying in the middle of the office on his bed. Viktor sat up slowly, head throbbing in pain. Something thick pulled against his stomach. He pushed the blankets off him with an unsteady hand. His right hand was lightly wrapped in black bandages, a stark contrast to the silver bracelet encircling his wrist.

He had new clothes on; his regular blue sweater, a soft new pair of sweatpants, and fortunately, some socks. The thought that someone had to dress him in his sleep had heat creeping up on the back of his neck, but he had more important things to focus on.

Viktor groggily realized that he was thirsty.

He waved his hand around, grasping tightly when his fingers brushed against one of his dishes. Viktor yanked it forward, gasping when the water splashed all over him. Still, he drank like he was dying of thirst. Mercifully, it washed away the overwhelming citrus taste of blood. Soaking wet but thirst quenched, he dropped the now empty dish back onto the floor. It made a loud sound in the quiet of the night.

Shuffling in the other room. He couldn't prepare himself for the blinding brightness the lights gave off when Rukka switched them on. He squinted, barely able to open his eyes.

There was no indication of Vok'Rul's presence. No cooing words, no gentle hands. Yet, he asked, "Vok'Rul?"

"Neyk, Kohgrash, neyk Rul," Rukka said, getting closer to him. He didn't protest when her hands gently landed on him. They were rougher than Vok'Rul's. Her claws were longer, sharper.

"Where's'he?" he asked, his mouth moving sluggishly. His mouth still felt dry, even though he had drank all of his water.

There was no forthcoming answer. Viktor got to his feet, wobbling for a moment before his brain kicked in and balanced him. Something was itching his face, and he reached up to find bandages plastered over the scratch he had gotten from the creature. Similar itching was all over his stomach, and he lifted his shirt to find the exact same bandages.

Rukka pulled his hands away from his sweater, no doubt worried that he would mess with them. "Norish?" she asked him, walking over to the bag of food. She rattled it enticingly.

Viktor frowned at her. "Vok'Rul," he said in response, starting to get irritated. Was he speaking another language or something?

Oh yeah, he was. Viktor bit back a groan.

He took a few unsteady steps forward, intending on just going to find the alien himself. Surprisingly, Rukka let him. He walked out of the office, a bit better at walking by the time he reached the doorway. Kac and Nohkka were sleeping on the couch. He heard Rukka sigh slightly behind him, moving around him to drape a blanket over the pair.

"Pora, Kohgrash," Rukka told him. He followed the best he could, considering the circumstances. He watched as she scribbled something on a piece of paper and left it plastered on Nohkka's forehead. Viktor cracked a small smile.

She went downstairs quickly, leaving Viktor at the top. She only realized her mistake when he was halfway to the bottom, lifting him up underneath his arms and gently setting him on the ground a moment later. He had no idea where she was taking him, but he had to assume it was to Vok'Rul.

The outside air was cold, and he soon found himself shivering. The pain in his stomach grew, slowly. Thankfully, they entered a car not long after (with only minimal assistance from Rukka) and were on the road a few minutes after that.

Viktor sat rigid on the floor, breathing harshly through his nose. His head hurt, and he could barely string enough thoughts together to think about anything other than Vok'Rul. Every rumble of the car jostled his body painfully. The bandages stretched painfully over his skin, itching him to the point where he nearly scratched himself raw in some places.

Just as he felt as though he would go insane from the overwhelming pain after hours of sitting on the floor, the car slowed to a stop. Rukka got out first, and then got him out next, holding him gently in her arms. He rested his head against her shoulder. She muttered something under her breath before they started moving.

They had come to some large, blocky building. The dull coloring and bright lights quickly clued Viktor in that they were likely at a hospital. When they entered the doors, the sharp smell of medicine, so similar to the vet's, met his nose and confirmed his suspicions.

The alien at the front desk glanced up, noticed Viktor in Rukka's arms, and immediately began protesting. Rukka said his name, along with Vok'Rul's name, which seemed to cow the receptionist. She was snappish but allowed them to go through.

"Nice," Viktor whispered to Rukka, who merely glanced at him. "Going to Vok'Rul, now?"

She didn't answer, which was to be expected. They walked for a while longer, going up a few flights of stairs (not spiral ones) before stopping outside a room. The anxiety in Viktor had only increased during their walk here, and, eager to see the source of his mounting worry, he squirmed out of Rukka's grasp as she opened the door, admitting them entry.

Still a bit unsteady on his own feet, Viktor stumbled over to Vok'Rul. The bed he was on was half raised, supporting his front half just slightly. A thick bandage lie over his arm where the creature had bitten him. Viktor's eyes traveled to the alien's face.

He looked... terrible.

"Vok'Rul?" he whispered tremulously. Traitorously, he felt tears starting to burn at the back of his eyes, and unwillingly, they started streaking down his cheeks. This was all his fault.

He didn't know how long he stood there, staring at the alien's face, searching for any sign of activity. Medical procedures were nearly unknown to him, and Viktor had no clue how long it would take for Vok'Rul to recover from being bitten by that snake. Viktor wished he could kill it a second time.

A hand landed on his head, petting his hair. "Pora, Kohgrash. Keti? Rul ka tih," Rukka told him.

"Neyk," he whispered, "Kohgrash kor."

He heard her inhale sharply. There was a moment of silence before she made a disbelieving noise. "Pora," she said, a bit more firmly this time. Viktor grabbed onto Vok'Rul's limp hand, curling his fingers around the alien's much larger ones.

"No. Neyk. I want to stay," Viktor said, feeling her hand slide off his head in defeat. "Please."

Rukka sighed, settling herself in the chair next to Vok'Rul's bed. She probably didn't want to leave as much as he did. Viktor went back to staring at Vok'Rul's face.

His legs started to ache, and he still felt unsteady on his feet. His body was constantly throbbing in time with his heartbeat, sending pulses of pain up and down his limbs. Nearly two months out of the arena, and he was in rough shape after a fight. Figures.

He pressed his forehead against the bed, feeling the rough and scratchy texture against his skin. "Please wake up soon," he told Vok'Rul in a whisper.

The alien didn't answer.

***

It took five days for him to wake up.

Five days where Viktor sat in the hospital room, warily watching as doctors flitted in and out. Aliens, dressed in pale colors, would come in and out of the room frequently, fiddling with the bandage on his arm. At regular intervals, they would come in with a plate of food that Vok'Rul could not eat. They would put it into a machine, which whirred and screeched so loudly that Viktor had thought that alone would wake the alien, and it would travel into Vok'Rul's mouth through an opaque tube. They put everything in that machine; medicine, food, water.

Viktor rarely ate, rarely slept. When morning had come the next day, he feared that Rukka would force him out, but she stayed with him. Kac had come later, a sleeping Nohkka in her arms, and they had switched places on the chair. Kac and Viktor had regarded each other for a moment before the latter went back to watching Vok'Rul.

He didn't know what he was looking for in his face, exactly, but he'd be the first one to see it when it happened.

Thruul had shown up later in the day, face uncharacteristically solemn and serious. It unnerved Viktor, especially as the first day slowly progressed into the night and he showed no signs of leaving. He had pushed the chair close to Vok'Rul's side, holding his hand in his own. He didn't say anything, and neither did Viktor.

Until he did.

"Kohgrash," Thruul called quietly. Viktor startled violently out of his thoughts, looking up at the large alien with a blank expression that soon turned wary. He sat on the floor, right under Vok'Rul's bed, watching the door.

Thruul extended his hand toward him, and Viktor was too tired, mentally, emotionally, and physically, to recoil. The large alien pet his hair, pushing his hair back like Vok'Rul usually did. Viktor had to close his eyes against the sudden urge to cry.

A truce had been developed between the two, then.

On the second day, he had allowed himself to process. He curled up underneath the bed, knees to his chest, and sobbed. His tears had ruined the bandages running across his face, and he had angrily torn them off, tossing them aside. All they did was remind him that he had failed to protect Vok'Rul, that he might die because of him.

If he hadn't gone looking for the alien, he'd probably be just fine. Sure, Viktor probably still would've been kicked out, but at least he wouldn't be lying nearly dead in a hospital. The guilt was heavy on his shoulders.

He had been nearly inconsolable the entire third day. It was only until Nohkka wriggled her way under the bed to join him that he pulled himself together. She handed him a squished piece of jerky, practically shoving it into his mouth. After he had finished eating it, they both crawled out from under the bed. The relief on Rukka's face had been visible.

On the fourth day, doctors rushed in frantically. Viktor had been dozing - despite his greatest efforts against it - in the empty chair at Vok'Rul's bedside. He startled awake as soon as they had rushed in. They started moving Vok'Rul's bed before Viktor could process what was going on. Viktor had tried to follow after them, but Rukka had been waiting outside of the room. She scooped him up before he could get away, too tired and weak to act swiftly. He had raged against her, snarling and thrashing. It wasn't until Vok'Rul had returned hours later, still pale and unconscious, but here, that Viktor calmed down.

Rukka had placed him gently on the bed, saying "Ne corfa, Kohgrash. Rul to comf." Viktor had nodded, even though he had little idea of what she was saying, simply relieved that Vok'Rul was back.

The black in his arm had receded immensely, no longer peeking out from underneath the bandages. He was still pale, but less deathly looking. For the first time since he had gotten here, Viktor felt hopeful.

The rest of the day he spent thinking, sat near the end of the bed, too wary of interfering with whatever magic medicine they had going on near Vok'Rul's arm.

He thought about meeting his dad, something that had gotten kicked to the back burner of his mind with all that had happened in the following hours. And although it was likely that he wouldn't be able to see him again for a while, especially not after all this, Viktor was just glad that his dad was safe. An animal to be looked at, ogled at, but safe. He was sure his dad couldn't say he felt the same. The guilt he had been feeling about Vok'Rul only increased as he remembered his dad's expression when he had run off without so much as a goodbye. He was probably worried sick.

He thought about the aftermath that would happen after Vok'Rul woke up - if, his traitorous mind whispered, if he woke up. How he would surely be kicked to the curb like day-old trash. He thought about that man in the restaurant, how certain he had spoken.

Viktor looked at Vok'Rul's sleeping face, so familiar and yet too still, and hoped that he was just overthinking.

He thought about his wounds. He hadn't been eating or sleeping as often as he should be, so they had been healing sluggishly. The long scratch down his face, ragged and deep, had slowly started to scab over. If he smiled - of which he did little, lately - it would immediately break apart, and hot blood would rush down his cheeks. The same went for his stomach. He had finally gotten a glimpse of the wounds; small, superficial scratches but great in number. They healed slowly but did not bleed when he moved, for which he was grateful. Along his right arm, the one that was unprotected by the black cast, small puncture marks littered his skin. They would fade, eventually.

Viktor knew that the one along his face, from his temple all the way to the bottom of his jaw, would scar something vicious. He just hoped that when he looked in a mirror, he would not see the ringmaster in his place.

He fell asleep, then, sitting upright. Exhaustion had dogged his body, begging him to rest. He gave in after Rukka had left for the night, leaving just him and Vok'Rul alone in the quiet, dark room. The only thing he could hear was his and Vok'Rul's breathing. Nothing else made a sound.

He shut his eyes, intending only to rest for a moment.

And woke up to a clawed hand carding through his hair, shaking with the effort, but there, nonetheless. Viktor could hardly breathe, not wanting to open his eyes and find it to be Thruul or Rukka instead of who they all wished it could be.

But he heard Rukka's voice, quiet and soft in the nearly silent room, and he had to open them, unable to fake the fantasy any longer.

But Rukka was far away from him, sat across Vok'Rul's bed in the chair. She was nowhere near him. Which meant...

Viktor lifted his head, not breathing. The hand slid off his head and landed on the bed with a muffled thump.

"Kohgrash'mrr," Vok'Rul rumbled, voice weak and scratchy from nearly a week of disuse. "Rohsh, cho'k."

Viktor smiled genuinely for the first time in five days.

***

Vocabulary:

cho'k: endearment, usually meaning little one, love; usually used for pets or small children

flakmna: sorry, formal (I apologize)

keti: look

kor: stay

pora: come

ne corfa: be careful

neyk: stop, no

norish: food

'mrr: my/mine, usually added onto the end of someone's name (Kohgrash'mrr)

rohsh: a friendly greeting, such as hello or hey

teyk: yes

ka comf: is ill, or is sick

tih: okay