[ The voice is so utterly unexpected that Gilbert freezes, breath stalling upon his lips.
Elliot.
Elliot, calling his name.
Elliot, who shouldn't be here, who's in that wretched little box, who's going into the ground but waiting for him at home if he can just pull himself together—
His head jerks up and he sees Elliot there, standing over him. For a long minute he's only able to fix Elliot with his wide-eyed gaze, breath coming in shaky, shallow gasps.
Then he's on his feet, stumbling towards his brother, his little brother, his youngest brother, the best of them, the brightest and kindest and and most straightforward of them. Elliot who has always, always stood on his own two feet. Who never doubts, whose existence is whole and conviction never falters, never wavers. ]
Elliot—
[ It's not real until Gilbert holds him, until Elliot's thin frame is in his arms, too thin, needs more feeding. When they get out of here he'll make dinner. Plan breakfast. Pack Elliot's lunch. He grips Elliot tight and tries to get a handle on his wracking sobs.
No, Elliot shouldn't be here. He doesn't know. He should never have to know. ]
How— [ Gilbert begins and then stops, wanting to ask what Elliot's doing here, how he even got here, but how can Gilbert ask when he doesn't know how he himself came to be here? So he falls silent, still holding Elliot, still trying to stop his tears. ]
no subject
Elliot.
Elliot, calling his name.
Elliot, who shouldn't be here, who's in that wretched little box, who's going into the ground but waiting for him at home if he can just pull himself together—
His head jerks up and he sees Elliot there, standing over him. For a long minute he's only able to fix Elliot with his wide-eyed gaze, breath coming in shaky, shallow gasps.
Then he's on his feet, stumbling towards his brother, his little brother, his youngest brother, the best of them, the brightest and kindest and and most straightforward of them. Elliot who has always, always stood on his own two feet. Who never doubts, whose existence is whole and conviction never falters, never wavers. ]
Elliot—
[ It's not real until Gilbert holds him, until Elliot's thin frame is in his arms, too thin, needs more feeding. When they get out of here he'll make dinner. Plan breakfast. Pack Elliot's lunch. He grips Elliot tight and tries to get a handle on his wracking sobs.
No, Elliot shouldn't be here. He doesn't know. He should never have to know. ]
How— [ Gilbert begins and then stops, wanting to ask what Elliot's doing here, how he even got here, but how can Gilbert ask when he doesn't know how he himself came to be here? So he falls silent, still holding Elliot, still trying to stop his tears. ]