Chapter Text
When he had awakened inside his office once more, everything hurt.
From the sharp pain in his back and legs, to the aching in his arm and ribs from the still broken bones, forcing him to cradle the injured limb against his chest, feeling the way he struggled to breathe without bringing more pain to himself.
Yet in spite of this, he got up and ran, his hurting legs struggling to carry him as he ran through the all familiar offices and halls, ignoring the confused words of The Narrator as he leaned against the walls for support, barely making it to the room with the two doors when he tripped, falling to the floor with a pained cry.
“Stanley!” The Narrator cried back. “What happened? Are you okay? I didn’t think your injuries would be that bad…”
Stanley did not answer, instead curling up into himself protectively, his chest hurting as it heaved from pure panic, the words of his Narrator a distant, incomprehensible echo in his ears.
“Sorry,” he muttered with fear. “Please. Please don’t. I can’t do it. I can’t…”
He kept mumbling off several apologies that eventually gave way to uncontrollable sobbing, tears streaming down his face as he awaited for the inevitable.
He picked up the soft set of footsteps approaching, which only made him curl into himself further, eyes too blurry with tears to make out the figure of The Narrator as he got closer, prompting Stanley to shut them so he wouldn’t have to watch what he had in store this time around.
What he felt instead was a hand placing itself on his shoulder. Stanley violently flinched at the touch, the hand retreating as he curled into himself further, not caring for the way it had hurt him to do so. When the hand did return, it placed itself on his head, its finger combing through his hair with a gentleness he had never felt before, like he were a fragile porcelain doll that would shatter at even the slightest of touch.
And in spite of his thoughts warning him not to cave in, not to fall for what was obviously a trap, Stanley leaned into the touch, his sobbing lessening and breathing slowing back to normal as the hand continued messing with his hair, his racing thoughts becoming more distant the more he focused on the gentleness he hadn’t felt in so long. At some point the hand removed itself, Stanley letting out an involuntary, pleading whimper. With that the hand returned, Stanley soaking in the touch once more.
“There there, you poor thing,” The Narrator said. “It’s alright. You’re safe.” He seemed to pause for a moment before continuing. “How about you take a nap for a moment?”
He began to feel sleepy, the remainder of his thoughts staying on that gentle touch before he gave in to a long and deep slumber.
***
Once he heard the soft snores coming out of Stanley, Nate carefully moved his arms underneath the sleeping human to carry him, Stanley huddling against his chest with a soft whimper and a shiver wracking his entire body.
“It’s okay. I got you,” he reassured softly, his words putting Stanley at ease.
He proceeded to carry Stanley out of the office, waving a hand over door 426 to enter the now materialized apartment, heading inside the bedroom to move the blanket away before gently lying Stanley down, moving his head up with a free hand to glide a pillow underneath with the other.
At that moment he noticed the way Stanley held his left arm against his chest. Prying his other hand off to hold the arm in both hands, Stanley let out a low whimper in his sleep that nearly escalated into a sob when Nate held onto the limb too tightly. Carefully setting it down on the mattress, he snapped his fingers, a white, heavily bandaged cast forming around Stanley’s arm.
And it was then he had now noticed the strange, greenish mark poking up from under his shirt collar, along with more fainter marks of bruises dotting the sides of his neck.
As much as he wanted to respect Stanley’s privacy, if not his dignity, he wanted to know the full extent of his injuries after that fall.
So he began unbuttoning Stanley’s shirt, only making it halfway to discover the many bruises that dotted his chest, the green one he initially discovered among the many other colors and sizes, the majority of them littering the ribs that jutted up from beneath his skin, the rest of his chest barely moving up and down with each breath.
“Oh, Stanley. What did he do to you?”
He was surprisingly answered in the form of a low whimper and shiver coming out of Stanley, Nate quickly running his fingers through his hair again, the man returning to a calm slumber once more.
“Don’t worry. I’ll take care of you,” he assured. “And I won’t let him or any other narrator hurt you, ever again.”