Chapter Text
Oscar’s head was buzzing. The rush of air pulling his hair as he fell. It was cold. His stomach dropped as he fell, his heart pounding.
Even so, his eyes began to flutter shut, the cold nipping at the edges of his consciousness.
Maybe… if he just fell asleep… he wouldn’t feel the impact. He wouldn’t have to feel the sickening pain of death that he had dreamt of in hazy memories over the past several months.
Oscar
It was like a full-body jolt. Like Oscar had been dunked in ice water suddenly. The exhaustion was snapped off of him. And he was awake.
His eyes drifted to the side. Long Memory fell in pace with him, the sheathed cane shaking in the draft.
Oscar’s head buzzed- and he just knew. Just knew what he needed to do.
He reached a hand, it was hard to reach with the sheer force of wind pressure on him, but sure enough, his hand grasped the handle of the cane. Oscar pulled it to himself, holding the familiar weight in his hands.
Oscar clicked the handle.
Oscar jolted upright, his arms becoming tangled in his sheets as he caught his breath.
It took two seconds for Oscar to rile up again.
He was… in bed. His bed. Not Atlas. Not Haven. His bed.
Oscar looked up at the wood ceiling. The familiar looping texture of the wood grain. The one knot that looked like an eyeball that Oscar often considered trying to paint over because it felt like it was staring at him.
The smell of wood and dirt.
Home.
Oscar stared down at himself.
His arms looked thinner. Still with muscle- but the form of the muscle was different. His hands were still covered in his night wrappings, simple bandages, something Oscar hasn’t been able to do on the road and had just opted to keep his gloves on instead, and then when they had gotten to Atlas, Ironwood had given Oscar stiffer, reusable wrappings that held tighter to Oscar’s skin.
But now they were just thin cotton bandages. The ones that Oscar would reuse for about a week every night before changing them.
Oscar glanced around, noting the room. Unsure if it was real.
He was falling from Atlas. That’s where he was last.
“Oz?” Oscar spoke up, shuffling out of bed and pulling the curtains, seeing the pre-dawn glow outside.
No answer.
“Oz?” Oscar asked again.
Nothing.
Oscar looked down at his hands.
Gingerly, he found where the end was tucked. Carefully, he peeled back the bandages.
Oscar almost threw the cotton bandage when it came off, recoiling at the sight of his hands.
It had been forever since it had been that bad. Angry red skin that was missing in patches. Dips into thin new skin that barely covered up what was underneath. Oscar always felt it was best to compare it to as if someone had taken an ice cream scooper and skimmed off patches of skin.
These wounds looked fresher than before. The skin on his hands was no longer sensitive, just patchy and uneven that made Oscar’s skin crawl when the newer flesh touched things directly. These were pink and new .
Oscar fumbled as he wheeled back, his knees giving out as he tumbled to the floor.. Oscar couldn’t stop staring at his hand- he still had nightmares about watching them decay- seeing the fresh divots in his skin made Oscar’s stomach churn.
Within seconds, the door slammed open.
Auntie Em ran in, half-dressed. She had her work pants on but still her nightshirt that hung loosely on her broad shoulders and fell just above her knees. Her dark auburn hair pulled into a loose ponytail, her dark green eyes wide with concern.
“Oscar! Are you okay?”
She quickly got over to him, seeing one of his hands uncovered. She looked around quickly, spotting the discarded bandage, and made quick work of wrapping it back up.
“Are you feeling okay? Did you hurt yourself?” She pulled him close, worry plain on her face.
Oscar took a deep breath, but his stomach still turned. “Y-Yeah I’m okay.”
Auntie Em pulled him in, giving him a tight hug.
Oscar blinked wildly, feeling himself calm down again. It… it felt like it was just two years ago. Oscar, still fresh from losing his parents, recovering from wounds that hurt more to look at then to touch.
“You’re up early,” Auntie Em said, pulling back, obviously trying to change the subject.
Oscar nodded blearily, “yeah I uh… it’s been weird sleeping in.”
Auntie Em’s expression softened. “You up for some work? You really should take it easy on those hands.”
“I can do some simple things,” Oscar insisted, “I can wear work gloves and everything.”
Even if this was a dream. A strange and disconcerting dream- working with his Aunt was always one of Oscar’s favorite things at that time. And… he missed it. He missed waking up the morning and having coffee with her.
“If you’re sure,” She ruffled his hair, “just listen to your body, okay?”
Oscar nodded.
Auntie Em got up, “I’ll go finish up, we can do morning chores together, and then we can have a good breakfast together, how’s that sound?”
“Great,” Oscar smiled.
Oscar got dressed carefully, noting half-healed wounds and bruises under his clothes. Some were even still bandaged like the one on his shin and his shoulder. Wounds that had since faded into familiar scars. They weren't like his hands and neck, they just left pale puckered skin that Oscar was used to seeing by now. But now they were back. They stung when they were jostled too hard. Oscar made sure his bandages were secure before slipping gloves over his hands. Carefully, he clenched and unclenched his hands. It had been so long since they stung like this, but it was nothing worse than the bumps and scrapes he had gotten from training. If Oscar had to guess, they felt like they had been through at least a couple of months of recovery. Oscar could only vaguely remember that time. He knew that he wasn't very responsive at the time, spending most of his time in his room. Oscar took a deep breath, smoothing out his clothes, simple, sturdy, practical. Not distinguished like what Oscar had been wearing as battle gear for the past months.
It was familiar. It was nice.
Oscar carefully descended the stairs from his room in the attic, walking down the short hall to the living room next to the kitchen. Auntie Em was sitting at the open back door, lacing up her sturdy work boots. She turned as Oscar walked from the hall and smiled warmly. How long has it been since he had left the house? Oscar wondered as he walked to the open door, grabbing his own boots from where they sat outside. The two of them sat there, wordlessly tying their laces. Oscar's hands fumbled a bit holding the small laces but managed to tie them tightly.
"Ready to go?" Auntie Em asked, getting up, her smile growing even warmer.
Oscar smiled back. "Yeah!"
Auntie Em left Oscar with the lighter work, instructing him to feed the animals and check the coop for eggs. The cows nudged him when Oscar came up to them, one licked the back of his head, making his hair stand up. Oscar giggled and gently pushed them back.
"Yeah, yeah, I know," He said to them, rubbing a few of them on their snouts, "You missed me. I missed you too."
Oscar waved the chickens away when they gathered around his feet, impeding his path.
"You are all trying to knock me over today, how rude!" Oscar scolded them, opting to just pick up one of the stubborn hens and set it down behind him.
"They all want to be around you," Auntie Em said, carrying in a couple of buckets of water, "I think they're much more lively seeing your face than mine."
Oscar scoffed, reaching into the coop, "Are you sure? I think they're just trying to mess with me."
"You're just messing with me now," Auntie Em rolled her eyes dramatically, "Animals have always loved you, silly, and you know it."
Oscar grinned, getting back up holding the eggs, and walking carefully out of the enclosure, sometimes having to stick his leg out and coax a chicken to get out of his way. "Oh, you know me, pure of heart."
Oscar expected Auntie Em to tease back- like they always did- but she just smiled at him. Her shoulders dropped a bit, she looked... relieved.
"I'll go get a few things more done, you stay here and keep them out of trouble," Auntie Em advised, finishing pouring the buckets out.
"Of course," Oscar said, walking back over to the cows who immediately started nudging and trying to lick Oscar again.
Oscar ended up walking through the gate and sitting in the grass, where a couple of the cows settled around him, one setting its head right in Oscar's lap. Oscar chuckled a bit, stroking the fur between its eyes.
"Do you know what's going on?" Oscar asked the cow on his lap.
Predictably, the cow gave no answer.
Oscar sat there, the sunrise settling into place, the sunbeams brushing his cheeks. Even if this was just a dream, it was a nice dream. Was it death? Oscar could remember falling from the Atlas vault, the air turning cold, but then he had heard Oz's voice. Maybe this was where Oz's past incarnations went after their death. A place of comfort and peace in their life before it all was uprooted around them. Either way, for now, Oscar was fine. Right here.