Work Text:
I was drowning.
I was supposed to be on board, rested and ready and well-assured.
And instead, I'd been knocked into the water. And I wasn't floating.
I was falling, sinking, drowning.
I was drowning.
.
.
.
An ache swelled from where it had been burbling quietly, yawning at the surrounding scene. It was... bored.
So it threw itself a party.
In which I was the jester.
Mockery, taunts, and other fickle barbs made their mark, reaching into the core and scoring it right down the centre. It was nearly sliced in twain.
And I just watched.
.
.
.
I stayed submerged for a while, the bubbles all but a distant memory. Any breath was forever locked away in my chest, unable to find room to expand in the constant torrent of the vast confinement.
Waves roiled overhead, but very rarely did they disturb the cacophony of restless noise. The few times they did break through, their ceaseless banter proved less than useful.
The pressure had continued to rise and rise and rise with no end in sight, an endless climb with no payoff.
And it was then I prayed.
Not for salvation, mind you.
For release.
To be freed from this seemingly eternal pain.
It was a stupid prayer.
Out of my own ignorance, I failed to understand the depth of that moment. I lost sight of what it meant to me, of what anything meant to me.
It was a stupid prayer.
.
.
.
After a time, I realised my foolishness and really called out. I wanted it to end, but not in that way. Not anymore, at least for the time being.
There was another answer.
With what little energy I had remaining, I tried again.
A silent cry went out.
And a gentle murmur had responded.
.
.
.
My distress beacon had been seen. Now to wait for rescue.
While I waited, time no longer mattered. Everything passed me by, the onslaught of raging tides quieting slowly.
I wasn't safe, not yet.
But I was calm.
And I would be okay.
.
.
.
After what felt like an eternity, a hand reached all the way down to me, to hoist me back on board.
I'd contemplated sitting in the storm for a bit longer, but no. That was not the solution.
So I reached back and took the hand in mine, clinging tightly.
Kicking, fighting, struggling to surface.
But eventually, I broke through.
.
.
.
As I was escorted back on board, I felt wings drape around my shoulders, a weighted blanket of consolation and hope.
Not subtle at all, but it didn't need to be.
For I was safe.
And I was home.
And I was me again.