Prompto tried his best to suppress the small sigh that escaped him as he listlessly hit the sleep button on his phone for the eighty-millionth time.

He wished he would stop checking it as often as he did. The disappointment was starting to edge on hopelessness. And hopelessness was something Prompto never willingly subscribed to. But as much as he wanted to stay positive, he couldn't help dwelling on just how much time had passed now.

It had been weeks. Weeks without so much as a peep from his best friend.

And...it sucked. There really wasn't much else to say about it—it just sucked.

Prompto could hardly remember the last time he and Noct had gone a full day without at least a brief text exchange; could hardly recall a time they'd gone much longer than a weekend without seeing each other.

Sure, it had only been, like, what, three, four years since they'd become friends? Maybe not so long in view of the full eighteen years of his life, but more than long enough to have developed the most solid friendship Prompto had ever known. Long enough for a co-dependency to have not only solidified, but to now have made itself painfully apparent.

Prompto had never fully realized how much of his life revolved around Noct. Having nearly identical class schedules, most all of his socializing at school took place with his best friend at his side. True, Prompto was the more outgoing of the two, which wasn't saying a whole lot, really, but he'd never realized how much his meager amount of confidence relied on Noct's presence—on his frequent nods of agreement, or genuine snorts of laughter at Prompto's typically humorous (well, attempted, anyway), on-going daily commentaries.

Prompto felt a little lost without Noct, honestly. Like he wasn't fully certain of his own identity without him, as strange as that might sound. So much of who Prompto was now was a direct result of the prince having accepted and welcomed his presence in his life. His lean and healthy figure, his continued love of running, his consistently talkative and generally happy nature was all due to Noct's positive influence on him. Prompto almost kind of liked who he had become in the last four years. And that was something his younger self would have hardly believed possible.

In Noct's absence, however, Prompto had withdrawn into himself significantly, both at school and at home. And it wasn't all due to the lack of best-friend-bolstered confidence. No, Prompto simply missed him. He missed Noct more than he could ever recall missing anyone.

His recovery had gone...okay for the most part. Yeah, he'd been a little sore, initially. Okay, he'd been practically bed-ridden for close to a week with how sore he'd been, but apparently electrical torture will do that to a guy. Go figure. He was still careful and somewhat hindered in his movements, but at least he was fully up and about now. And the cuts and bruises on his face had nearly completely healed.

The scans he'd had done at the hospital had indeed revealed an implant embedded in his arm, which his parents had opted to hold off on having removed for now. They wanted to give his body time to recover first. He wasn't sure when they'd decide to commit to the surgery, perhaps in the summertime, but Prompto was a little grateful he wasn't having to hide another visible disfigurement on his arm for time being.

Getting back to school had been a little rough. Of course everyone was aware something had happened to him and Noct. The whispered rumors weren't too far off the mark, either. But it was the questions that were difficult. Had the prince really run away? What happened? What was wrong, had Prompto been injured? How? Was he okay? Was Noctis also hurt? Why wasn't he back at school yet? Prompto was initially bombarded with endless such questions, which he could only brush off with nervous half-laughs of denial and vague white lies. He and his parents had been made to sign non-disclosure agreements about the whole thing, which Prompto hadn't really thought necessary, but did so anyway without hesitation. He wouldn't have told anyone anything if his life depended on it. Least of all a member of the press. Which, luckily, he hadn't been approached by yet.

And fortunately, his peers' questions had pretty much died off in the last few days, mostly being replaced by furtive sidelong glances filled with curiosity and concern. And contempt, in a few cases. There would always be those few cases of jealousy over the prince deeming Prompto worthy of his friendship. But Prompto was grateful no one had really pushed the matter too far. It must have been pretty evident it was a touchy subject for him.

But apart from being the worst thing ever, Noct's endless silence had long since passed the point of being depressing. It had become worrisome. Very much so. Anxiety-inducing, even.

What the heck was going on with him? Why was the citadel still keeping him from school? Why hadn't they given his phone back—was keeping him so isolated really that necessary? It had been nearly three weeks—did his brief escapade from the city really warrant such a punishment?

Prompto wanted to keep his worrying confined to such concerns, but a sneaking suspicion had crept its way into his thoughts the past week or so. And he couldn't brush it off or ignore it no matter how he tried.

What if the citadel was keeping Noct isolated specifically from him? What if they blamed Prompto for supporting and aiding Noct in his foolish scheme of running away? What if they faulted him for falling into imperial hands and stirring up a whole new mess of political issues between them?

Perhaps they had decided it was time for the prince's unnecessary friendship with Prompto to come to an end. What if they had simply enrolled Noct in a new school and had refused him any contact with Prompto ever again?

Prompto's stomach clenched. It hurt to think about.

Had they really caused that much trouble?

Granted, Prompto knew Noct should never have even considered leaving Insomnia. He knew he shouldn't have encouraged him or tagged along. Noct was the prince. And Prompto...well, Prompto was a special case as well when it came to leaving the city's walls, as he more than well found out. His parents had basically ripped him a new one on the matter, after they'd recovered from the scare of potentially losing him. What had he been thinking? Noctis was the prince, for God's sake. Did he have any idea what could have happened to the both of them?!

Prompto winced at the memory of his parents' near-hysterical words. Yes, he knew he'd been stupid. He knew he was being stupid at the very time all the stupidity was taking place. But he was Noct's best friend. And Noct had made it very clear he needed Prompto that day. In a world of only hearing "no" and "you can't do that" countless times on end, Prompto had taken it upon himself to be the one person in Noct's life who would never purposely discourage him.

And maybe the council considered him a bad influence for it or something, Prompto wasn't sure. But if that was the case, it didn't seem entirely fair, to be honest. He hadn't initially known Noct's plan was to leave Insomnia when he'd first shown up and literally dragged Prompto out the door with him. He could never have guessed they'd actually be successful in escaping the wall. And he certainly hadn't meant to get himself kidnapped by imperials. He really had done all he could to keep Noct safe—which, he might add, he still had to answer for. He knew Noct wasn't going to forget to give him hell for knocking him out. And being tortured and interrogated by sadistic imperial assholes had already gone down as the most painful and harrowing ordeal Prompto had ever experienced. And hopefully ever would experience. He'd tried to keep it together as best he could, but he had been pretty certain he was going to die at the time. He couldn't really even think back on it. It made him hyperventilate.

The citadel staff had been making him attend twice weekly therapy sessions with a psychiatrist downtown since his rescue. Which was kind of considerate of them, he supposed, and the doctor was nice enough. And maybe he could kind of see how it might have been helpful in theory, but honestly, he just...didn't really want to talk about it. Not now, not ever, really. And while he didn't know how much the doctor had been told about his past, or how relevant it might be to the situation, he wasn't about to spill it all again to a complete stranger. It had been painful enough with Ignis and Cor.

Speaking of which, the marshal of the crownsguard had seemed to take a new and almost puzzling interest in Prompto since their encounter in the medical wing a few weeks ago. Well, he supposed it shouldn't be puzzling, really. Of course the essential head of security over the royal family would be wary after discovering the closest confidant to the prince actually came from a mysterious, imperial-born background. No, Prompto wouldn't blame Cor in the least for suddenly regarding him with more speculative interest than usual.

But honestly, it didn't really seem like Cor was worried about him in the sense that he might be a potential threat. It kind of seemed like Cor hadn't been too thrown by his reveal, or if it even had been a reveal of sorts at all. Maybe Cor had already known? Prompto wasn't certain how extensively they had checked out his background when he and Noct had first become close, but maybe they'd been more thorough than he knew. But then again, maybe Cor was just an expert at his poker face, and he actually had been quite surprised that day they spoke in the medical wing. He wasn't certain.

What was unexpected though, was how Cor had asked for his cell number before leaving that day and had taken to texting Prompto every now and then, mostly on his therapy days, asking how the sessions were going and how he was feeling. Which was really nice of him, and it made Prompto feel almost...not 'special,' that sounded silly. But perhaps 'acknowledged?' He knew the captain had so much on his plate at all times, and for him take a moment out of his day to check on the lowly, pleb friend of the prince? Prompto was...grateful for it. It almost seemed like Cor had a newfound sense of care for Prompto, in a way, and whether that was because Cor felt sorry for him, or was merely more wary of him, at a time when the rest of the citadel had all but forgotten him, Prompto was thankful for his concern.

At least it was willingly offered. He couldn't exactly say the same for Ignis and Gladio.

He'd texted them a few times since everything happened. Okay, he'd texted them a lot since everything went down, and every exchange with them had just seemed a little...off?

True, Ignis had been the one to initiate contact with him several times, asking how he was doing, how he was feeling, when he would be returning to school. But anytime Prompto had tried to start up a text conversation himself, Ignis was slow to reply and surprisingly vague and indirect in his responses:

Was everything okay at the citadel? Hopefully everything should be expected to be, they were merely dealing with some political mishaps. Was Noct okay? He was dealing with the situation about as well as could be expected. Was he coming back to school soon? Hopefully soon.

It was almost as if Ignis was keeping something from him, which was unusual for the normally honest and forthcoming advisor. Or it almost seemed as if Ignis didn't have a complete grasp of what was going on, himself. But how could that be? Prompto had been tempted more than once to just phone Ignis and call him out on his weird nonresponses, but he figured Ignis likely had a reason for it. He always had a reason for anything he did. And Prompto didn't want to be more of a nuisance than he already had been.

It was bad enough that Ignis now knew everything. Even though he'd been so unexpectedly kind and accepting towards Prompto in the wake of the discovery. Prompto had kind of been floored by just how...great Ignis had been. He couldn't recall ever being more grateful to anyone than he'd been the moment Ignis had brushed off his dubious origins as not being 'particularly consequential.' Like, what? For real? His admiration and regard for Ignis had more than tripled, and Prompto had resolved on the spot to spend the rest of his life attempting to prove himself worthy of Ignis' acceptance and belief in him.

As it was, it would never again be possible for Prompto to ever be irritated or upset with Ignis. Not for anything, least of all spotty text replies. Not that he ever had reason before; how could you ever be mad at Ignis? But yeah, now it just wasn't possible, even if there ever happened to be a reason.

Gladio hadn't been much of a different story. Pretty much any question asked through text didn't garner much more of a response than Dunno, bro. Sorry. Except for the time last week when Gladio had texted him on his birthday:

Hey Prompto, Noct wanted me to make sure I passed along a Happy Birthday in case he isn't able to today. Happy birthday, buddy!

Prompto had been in class and hadn't seen the message till later. And honestly, he just felt a little too depressed at the time to reply. He kind of just...wished Noct had been able to tell him himself. He hadn't realized how much he'd been hoping to hear from his best friend on his birthday. Not that it was that big of a deal, really. Prompto was always the last person to get butt hurt over anything. But...it just would have been nice, is all. It would have relieved a lot of his worrying and loneliness.

As things were, Prompto really had no choice but to continue trying to be as patient as he could. Even if his patience was mostly forced by this point. He had to hear from Noct eventually, right? If he just kept waiting, kept hoping, he'd hear from him for sure...wouldn't he?

He and Noct would still be able to be best friends, nothing could change that...

...Right?

Prompto sighed once more, thoroughly disheartened as he kneaded his pillow and rolled over. It was a long while before he finally fell asleep.

Cor sat with Noctis by the fire for a long time, quiet and contemplating. He wasn't sure how long ago the youth had fallen asleep, but Cor suspected it had been the better part of an hour that he'd been lost in thought now.

His glance was drawn to the prince at frequent intervals, concerned and wary, even guilty, as he sized him up time and again, despite his slumped and unmoving position remaining unchanged.

How had they let the prince get to this point without anyone intervening sooner? Despondent to the point of noticeable (and concerning) weight loss, off his already slight frame? Unaddressed illness and crystal-induced infirmities? It was inexcusable. Not to mention completely unnecessary and preventable. And if there was one thing Cor disliked, it was preventable problems.

Well, perhaps 'preventable' wasn't the most precise definition of Noct's state. Maybe 'inevitable' was actually the more accurate way of looking at it. With Ignis away, there was in actuality no way of something like this not happening.

Though Cor had been opposed to Ignis' and Gladiolus' leave as soon as it had been mentioned to him, he could understand and appreciate the reasoning behind it. It had been a smart way for Gladiolus to ensure the safety of their positions.

But it had never before been so apparent just how much of the prince's well-being fell to Ignis. Cor was quite certain it was something the entire citadel had taken for granted until now. With Ignis absent and Noctis blaming himself for the fact, of course the prince's state of well-being would go to hell.

Cor stifled an irritated sigh. Why had they let his deterioration go on for so long though? Well, he supposed the answer was easy enough—again, because Ignis was gone. No one else monitored the prince closely enough apart from him.

And while councilman Lorem's son had been doing the best he could to fill Ignis' impossibly large shoes, he just didn't have the necessary rapport with Noct to really do his job effectively. And Noct likely hadn't been the easiest or most pleasant of charges recently.

The whole situation was just frustrating and well past the point of bordering on worrisome now. Yes, it had been necessary for the prince to answer for his impudent misdeeds. But considering Noct's current state, it was quite clear the council had let it go too far, whether inadvertent or not. Perhaps they weren't aware of the extent of the prince's misery. Cor rather hoped that was the case, and that they'd be quick to attempt to remedy the situation. The prince needed his retainers back. His "family," as he'd called them.

And of course, they would have to address the crystal-related health issues. That was imperative, as soon as possible.

Cor glanced to the prince for the hundredth time, his stillness just as disconcerting as it had been an hour ago. There was now a newfound flush to his pale cheeks, however. Perhaps he was getting too heated by the fire.

"Marcaeus," Cor's sudden announcement was a startling contrast to the quiet hum of the fireplace.

Lorem immediately glanced up from where he'd been sitting across the room. "If you'll turn down the bed, I'm going to move him now."

Lorem was quick to comply, drawing immediately to his feet and setting to it.

Cor stood and leaned towards the prince, laying a hand across his forehead. Damn, he was indeed too warm. He drew the blankets aside and bent to gather the prince's sleeping form. He stood, mindful not to let his head loll too carelessly. Damn, he was too light, too.

Cor released a sharp breath through his nose, mildly fuming again at the prince's uncalled-for state.

He lay him in his bed gently, despite knowing Noct would likely sleep through any amount of jostling at the moment. He brushed dark strands away, once again pausing on his forehead and cheeks.

"He's feeling hot," he stated to Lorem. "Has he been running a fever this high regularly?"

Lorem immediately turned for the nightstand, rummaging. "His fever's wavered between ninety-nine and one-oh-one the last several days," Lorem replied, rejoining Cor with a thermometer in hand. He pressed it between Noct's slightly parted lips, carefully closing his jaw around it.

Cor stood by, waiting. Upon hearing the little beep a moment later, he glanced over.

"One-oh-three point two," Lorem announced, a hint of worry behind his voice.

Damn. That is pretty hot, Cor mused, troubled. He pulled the comforter off Noct, leaving him covered by only the sheet. He turned, stepping away to fetch the chair near the door, bringing it bedside. He sat down, preparing to stay as long as needed near the prince.

"Marcaeus," Cor said, as the young man stood uncertainly nearby. "Would you mind sending for the doctor? Let's see if we can get this fever down."

Lorem nodded, heading briskly for the door.

And it was a surprisingly short time before he returned, doctor in tow.

The doctor was quick and efficient in taking Noct's temperature, pulse and blood pressure. Cor thought he may have heard a slight click of his tongue as he read off a temperature of 103.5 degrees.

"What do we do, Doc?" Cor asked as the doctor righted himself once more.

The doctor pursed his lips a moment. "There unfortunately isn't a whole lot that can be done to relieve a fever," he explained. He turned his attention to his bag. "I can give him a shot of ibuprofen or acetaminophen to potentially help somewhat, but really the only thing to do is keep him cool and let the fever run its course."

Cor almost wanted to scoff. "This fever's been plaguing him for close to a week now. How much longer of a 'course' are we going to allow it to run?"

The doctor didn't answer him immediately, distracted as he was, readying a syringe. He swabbed Noct's arm and plunged it in, emptying its contents.

"I administered a shot of antibiotics several days ago," the doctor explained, quickly withdrawing and capping the needle. "But his low-grade fever's persisted. It doesn't appear to be any sort of infection we're dealing with." He paused, glancing at Cor over his glasses. "I'm beginning to suspect there may be something else, something less natural, perhaps, at play here..?"

Cor's jaw hardened. He crossed his arms, offering a tight nod. "I've been wondering about the crystal's involvement as well." His eyes fell to the motionless prince. "I fear he's suffering from some form of withdrawal from his magic's effects now that it's been weeks since he's used it. I want to get him back to exercising it again as soon as possible, tomorrow even, but I worry he may be too weak. And I worry about him waking—he mentioned it's becoming more and more difficult for him to regain consciousness. Is it even safe to be allowing him to sleep right now? How serious should we consider these withdrawal symptoms? And will it only continue to worsen in the meantime?"

The doctor pressed his lips together, thinking. "Valid questions, all of them." He nodded slowly. "I truly wish I had more legitimate answers to offer you, Marshal," he said regretfully, "but my knowledge on the subject is unfortunately very limited; as is most everyone's, I imagine."

They were quiet for a moment. "...Should we send for His Majesty?" Lorem asked timidly, voicing Cor's own thoughts.

Cor glanced at the clock. It was nearly 11:00 pm. Regis would be in bed asleep by now. Due to the crystal's physical demands of him, Regis required a lot of sleep and had made it a habit of retiring early years ago. If they were to wake him now, he would likely be up well into the night, worrying over his son. It would take him days to recover from a sleep deficit like that.

"Let's hold off on waking the king for now," Cor finally decided. "We'll see if the prince's fever comes down at all over the next hour or so. Hopefully it will, and I'll be able to discuss my concerns over the crystal with His Majesty in the morning."

The doctor nodded his consent. "I'll be in every half hour to check on him, then. If his fever progresses, we can get him into the medical wing and at least get him going on a fluid drip." He briefly shook hands with the marshal. "Don't hesitate to call if I'm needed sooner." He turned and took his leave.

Cor went back to his silent watch over the prince, and Lorem took to pacing near the windows, glancing at his phone often.

They checked Noct's temperature at frequent intervals, but they were disappointed in their hopes for improvement. His temperature continued to steadily climb.

Finally, just after midnight and a temperature approaching 105 degrees, Cor's worrying and frustrations were reaching their limit. He needed help. He needed advice, suggestions. Or if anything, at least further support.

He didn't know where the council currently stood exactly, regarding any terms of leave. Or how far along the performance reviews were, or whatever. Cor didn't really care. It was time for all that nonsense to come to an end. For the prince's sake, it was time.

"Marcaeus," Cor said, dragging his eyes from Noct and addressing the young man fidgeting near the fireplace.

Lorem stopped fiddling with the loose thread at his sleeve. He looked over.

"Send for Ignis," Cor said, his voice firm, resolved. "And Gladio. Send for Gladio, too. Get them both here as soon as possible."

Lorem nodded, scrambling to his feet. He was out the door in moments.

Ignis was abruptly drawn from his sleep with a small start, his phone only ringing once before it was at his ear.

"Mister Scientia?"

"Yes?" Ignis was sitting up, his head already clearing as his reply left his lips.

Something's wrong with Noct.

Any grogginess or disorientation lurking at the edge of his awareness didn't stand a chance against that sudden, unexpected thought. There was no other explanation for a call at this hour.

"This is Adria Odalis with the Citadel's Administrative Department. Your presence is requested at the citadel. A car should be arriving in a quarter hour's time. Is that agreeable for you?"

Ignis was on his feet, reaching for his glasses. "Yes," he replied, hastily putting them on. "Yes, that's fine."

He hung up, already in the process of dressing.

Something's wrong with Noct. The thought echoed through his mind as he pulled a shirt on, nimbly drawing its buttons. Damn it. He'd feared he might be receiving a call like that soon.

He pulled some pants from his closet, fluidly stepping into them as he located some shoes.

What could it be? Likely nothing apart from a health scare would warrant a call out of the blue at this hour. An illness? A particularly bad flu?

Ignis didn't want to let his thoughts race too far ahead of him, but he already knew he'd be wrong to suspect something as trivial as the flu. No, it inevitably had to be more along the lines of Noct's emotional and mental health.

Ignis knew Noct would have struggled immensely since learning of his and Gladio's leave. He knew it would have crushed him. Entirely. He'd been struggling, himself, unable to keep his thoughts from drifting to Noct every hour of the day, wondering how he was coping, how well he was being cared for, if he was eating, how despondent he'd been.

It was...close to unbearable. The not knowing. The inability to be there. The utter waste of every day, spent kept in the dark, useless to everyone—most of all Noct. Ignis hadn't known what to do with himself. He'd hated every minute of it.

But finally, after nearly three never-ending weeks, his hellish limbo was at long last drawing to a close.

He succinctly finished packing his bag of extra clothes and toiletries. He usually kept all he needed at both his residence and his room in the citadel, for the sake of convenience. But seeing as it had been a while since he'd taken stock at the citadel, he was playing it safe by packing thoroughly.

Now he just needed to prepare himself to face and deal with the damage his absence had caused Noct.

Prepared or not, he made his way down to his apartment's lobby and out to the waiting car.

Ignis strode through the citadel's long corridors, his pace hastening. He'd forgotten the halls of the citadel held a unique scent that he'd long since gone blind to before taking leave. He could smell it again though. It smelled clean. And...welcoming, in a way.

It felt good to be back. Despite his anxiety over the scene that awaited him multiple stories above in the prince's bedroom. What form of distress would he find Noct in? He swallowed dryly.

"Ignis!" It was Gladio's voice, calling from behind him. Ignis turned to see Gladio approaching, his stride bordering a jog. He caught up to him, draping an arm easily across Ignis' back and clapping his opposite shoulder. It was Gladio's casual version of an 'it's good to see you' hug. Ignis nodded his reciprocation, and they continued down the hall together, stepping into an elevator.

"You think it's bad?" Gladio asked, hitting the button as the doors closed.

"I'm not sure what to think," Ignis replied after a moment. "I wasn't provided any details."

"I wasn't, either," Gladio offered. "But I'm starting to doubt it's a surprise 'welcome back' party."

Ignis looked at him.

"What, you think it still might be?" Gladio asked.

Ignis let a half-scoff escape him, shaking his head in mild annoyance. Leave it to Gladio to make light of such a situation. Funny, they'd only been reunited for the better part of two minutes and Gladio had already managed to get a hint of a rise out of him. Ignis knew he shouldn't be surprised, really.

"Look, he's gonna be all right," Gladio said, becoming serious again. "Yeah, he's struggled a little with eating, but we'll get some weight back on him in no time."

Ignis looked to him quickly again. "You saw him recently?"

"Last week," Gladio explained. The elevator dinged and they stepped out. "He came to find me in the glaives' quarters, ranting about how he'd heard we quit on him or something." They rounded a corner. "He seemed pretty broken up about it."

Ignis paused a step beside him. "You told him we didn't?" It wasn't exactly a question. He increased his pace briefly to catch up.

"Yeah, I cleared things up with him," Gladio assured him, running a hand through his hair. "But, it did look like he'd been having a pretty rough time of things," he explained.

Ignis turned his gaze forward again. "You failed to mention any of this," he said, careful to keep any hint of accusation from his voice.

"Never got a chance to," Gladio replied. "...And Noct sort of begged me not to make you worry."

Ignis blinked, trying to keep the surprising admission at bay. He failed. He felt a small prick somewhere in the vicinity of his heart, and it stung a little. Of course Noct would find a small way to try and look out for him, despite being the one needing looking after.

A lot of good it did though, really, Ignis thought. The facts being kept from him did nothing to lessen their validity. Noct had been miserable. And Ignis should have been told of the extent of it sooner.

"You been doin' alright?" Gladio asked after their conversation lulled for a moment.

"Well enough," Ignis replied. They turned another corner. "I'm just...relieved to be back," he found himself admitting.

"You know," Gladio said, glancing at him again, "surprisingly, I can actually tell. It's almost like you've become an open book lately, Iggy," he said, a grin tugging at him.

Ignis offered another mildly hinted snort, unable to tell if it was sarcasm or not. He let Gladio's attempted banter die at that. They had arrived at Noct's bedroom.

Gladio was at the door first, offering a quiet knock before opening it. Ignis followed him in, surprised at how difficult it was to swallow for a moment.

There he was. His charge. In bed. Still, quiet, unmoving. His dark (and noticeably unkempt) hair a stark contrast against the white of his pillow, the white of his face.

Ignis approached him.

Thin. Ignis finally managed to somewhat swallow. Yes, he looked thin. Almost painfully so. His cheeks were more prominent than they had any right to be, and his eyes appeared slightly sunken, his lashlines startlingly dark against those pallid cheeks.

Ignis reached out, combing his fingers through that thick hair he'd almost forgotten the feel of. He touched his forehead, his cheek.

Hot. Bloody hell, he was hot. Ignis quickly drew his hand away, almost as if afraid of being burned. Though that actually wasn't even close to what he feared at the moment.

Goddamn it. So it was an illness.

Ignis had a difficult time drawing his gaze from his too-still charge, but he forced himself. He looked to Cor expectantly, waiting for the details.

Cor filled him in as best he could, with Marcaeus Lorem stepping in frequently.

Apparently (but not surprisingly), Noct had been on a downward spiral of depression for the last three weeks. He'd been struggling to eat for the same amount of time, and now they'd come to find out the council's banning of his abilities had perhaps not been the wisest idea. Unbeknownst to everyone, Noct had been gradually deteriorating over time from lack of interaction with the crystal. Things had continued to worsen with Noct falling into longer and longer spells of unconsciousness, and a persistent low-grade fever suddenly deciding to become a very high-grade one. High-grade and climbing.

Ignis stood staring, choosing to keep every comment he would have loved to spit out carefully stowed away. His fingers were never for pointing. And even if there had been a clear source to blame, he wouldn't have done so. Everyone had tried their best with what they could do for Noct. They just hadn't known the extent of everything. They hadn't realized how badly Noct's isolation was affecting him. And that was mostly due to no one being able to read and monitor the prince quite like Ignis could.

Gladio remained surprisingly restrained as well. He'd been standing nearby, unmoving, his eyes bleak and his jaw clenched tight as he watched their charge.

Cor had been right to call them. And honestly, he should have done so sooner, their leave be damned.

"What's his current temperature?" Ignis asked quietly, his eyes dropping back to that familiar, yet at the same time strangely unfamiliar sleeping face. His hand found Noct's hair again.

Lorem stepped forward to check. It was a moment before he stepped back at the beep. "One-oh-five point nine," he said with a faint hiss.

Bloody hell. They had to do something. Right away.

"Doctor Ipsum said we could get him into the medical wing anytime, get him going on an I.V., see if getting him hydrated will help..." Cor said. It was clear he was at a loss. And the marshal of the crownsguard was never at a loss. Ignis could tell it was uncharted territory for him. The fear and worry were both fully evident—two emotions most people would have bet against the marshal even possessing.

Ignis stayed silent, thinking. Cor had called him in for a reason. He knew Ignis was somehow adept at dealing with situations like this. At keeping a level head in order to explore any and every possible solution. It was a skill he was grateful for. It was a skill he'd—

Wait. Of course! Ignis could have almost snapped his fingers. It was so simple. Why hadn't he thought of it immediately?

"Marcaeus," he said, straightening. Lorem glanced to him quickly. It must have been apparent he was on to something. "Can you fetch us a potion?" Ignis asked, looking to him. "Perhaps two or three?"

Lorem had barely nodded before he was out the door.

Cor's mouth opened slightly. Yes, maybe the suggestion sounded stupidly simple, Ignis realized, but it was possible it just might work.

A hint of optimism permeated the air as Cor and Gladio exchanged glances.

"Noct likely won't be in any shape to exercise any magic tomorrow," Assuming he decides to wake at all, Ignis thought, wary of Cor's description of his current sleeping habits. "But he can still partake of a small form of the crystal's magic through a potion."

Gladio and Cor both nodded subtly in agreement, wondering why they hadn't thought of something so obvious.

Marcaeus returned a few moments later, out of breath and carrying four potions in his arms.

Doctor Ipsum was also there behind Lorem, apparently back for one of his regular check-ins. They both entered the room, and Ignis quickly and gratefully accepted one of the potions.

He approached Noct again, somewhat uncertain as he held the potion over the prince. "Without an actual wound," Ignis thought out loud, "it might not be possible for the potion to enter his system..." He looked to the others briefly.

"...You think ingesting it?" Gladio asked, usually quite well versed in following Ignis' train of thought.

"My guess is that's likely our most effective option," Ignis replied, glancing to the doctor.

"How does he drink it if he's unconscious?" Cor asked. And after a moment he added, "Can it be injected?"

"No," the doctor immediately replied. "No, I wouldn't try that. That hasn't been properly tested."

"But how is that any different from breaking it over an injur—"

"What if we just," Gladio cut in, grabbing the potion from Ignis as he climbed onto the bed opposite Noct, "I dunno, pour it down his throat?"

"No, no, no," the doctor quickly interjected again.

"We'd risk it potentially ending up in his lungs," Ignis explained.

"What do we do, then?" Gladio asked, kneeling on the bed next to Noct, who was completely lost to the jostling.

"You'll have to wake him up somewhat enough to be able to drink the potion willingly," Doctor Ipsum explained.

Oh, wonderful. Somehow everything always seemed to come down to whether or not they could rouse their charge. It was a task he and Gladio had become so much more than familiar with over the years. And it was a challenge that was always hard won, if won at all.

"Alright," Gladio said, never one to shy away from a challenge. Even one as oftentimes daunting as waking Noctis. "Sure. We can do that," he said, leaning over the prince. He started lightly tapping his cheek. "Noct, hey, Noct, it's time to wake up, buddy," he said, gradually tapping harder at the lack of response. "You've gotta open your eyes, bud, come on."

The others stood by, watching warily.

Gladio moved on to shaking Noct's shoulders. "Noct," he said loudly in his ear. "Get your ass up, I'm not playing around here." He shook harder.

"Careful, Gladio," Ignis admonished, not exactly keen on how rough Gladio was being.

Gladio switched tactics again, poking and kneading at Noct's ribs and under his arms. "Come on, Noct, I know you can't stand this. Why don't you wake up and tell me to eff off?"

Still nothing.

Gladio was getting frustrated. He went back to shaking Noct, harder this time.

"Gladio," Ignis stepped forward. "Careful. You're going to end up injuring him." He brushed Gladio aside, leaning down to gather the prince in an attempt to reposition him back on his pillow.

It was as he was adjusting his charge's weight, arms around him as he half-lifted, half-scooted him back across the bed, that Noct's eyes suddenly cracked a measure.

"Ig...gy?" His voice was barely there.

Ignis nearly gasped. "Gladio," he said quickly, helping the bigger man immediately pull the prince into a upright position against him.

"Here," Ignis said, hastily unstopping the potion. He leaned in again, a knee lifting onto the mattress for balance, as Gladio grabbed the potion, forcing it against Noct's lips.

Noct clearly wasn't all there with them, but his eyes kept slipping somewhat open in a feeble attempt to join them.

"There you go, that's the way," Gladio said encouragingly.

Ignis placed a helping hand on the potion as well, peering close to make sure Noct was indeed swallowing its contents down the proper pipe.

Noct choked and sputtered, weakly attempting to draw himself away. He didn't know what was going on, and he wasn't sure he should continue to allow it to.

"No, Noct," Gladio said, firmly readjusting Noct against him once more. "You've got to get it all down, buddy, come on."

Noct again struggled to free his mouth, to break away, but Ignis reached in to help hold him still.

Noct choked again, starting to get desperate in his attempt to get away, but they didn't let him. They allowed him a moment to recover before firmly, yet gently forcing him to drink the remainder.

Ignis couldn't keep back his sigh of relief upon seeing the flask finally empty. He let his forehead drop against Noct's hair a moment, before helping Gladio lay him back down. Noct was once again as out as he'd been only minutes earlier.

"Good job, Noct," Gladio said, relieved, as he patted Noct affectionately. "You did it, buddy."

Ignis stepped back, only then noticing a thick exhaustion quickly settling in. It was a little surprising how taxing and semi-traumatic being physically forceful over a loved one was. He hoped he'd never have to do anything like it again.

Marcaeus stepped in briefly, thermometer in hand. "Oh, wow," he said after a moment, relief lacing his voice. "It's already coming down. One-oh-four point five," he announced.

Ignis sighed again, not bothering to attempt stifling it this time. He sat heavily in the bedside chair, claiming it as his for the remainder of the night.

Cor took up residence in one of the armchairs framing the fireplace, resolving to go to bed once the fever came down to 101.

Gladio stepped behind Ignis, reaching down to squeeze his shoulders a few times. His version of a polite and affectionate 'way to go' gesture. Ignis didn't even shrug him off. He knew Gladio got a kick out of being the only person who dared attempt physical playfulness with him at times. And he was nice enough to let Gladio get away with it sometimes, too.

Gladio then tiredly announced he was going to bed and to let him know if he was needed again.

Lorem stuck around a while longer to ensure the fever was indeed continuing to subside. Which, thank the Six, it was. Ignis called him over before he departed for bed.

"Marcaeus," Ignis said, stifling a yawn. "Would you be willing to arrange for an escort to collect Prompto Argentum from school tomorrow?"

Lorem rubbed at an eye and replaced his glasses. "Sure, I can take care of that."

"And have them stop by his home and kindly request he pack a bag to spend the weekend here."

Lorem nodded again and Ignis offered his thanks.

Noct had been too long without his best friend. Prompto's presence would be a necessary piece to his recovery.

Cor finally took his leave just after 3:00, pausing briefly to place a hand on Ignis' shoulder. A lot was said behind the simple gesture, and Ignis nodded his understanding as Cor departed.

Ignis, however... He could have stayed at Noct's bedside until the crystal's glow completely diminished, if he had to. It was where he was needed and where he belonged.

Yes...he thought idly before finally drifting off. It was indeed a relief to be back.

So, I'd been really trying to not let this fic go longer than 5 weeks between updates, and here I am at about 5.5 weeks, I think? Which I really didn't think was going to be possible this month, since, you know, December. *flops on floor* Could it possibly be more exhausting? (I hope you all had a wonderful Christmas, btw!)

This was initially planned to be the last chapter, but I had the thought to throw some more angst into the mix (because as I've said before, enough angst is never enough), and this unexpected 'everyone angsts over Noct' chapter was born. I usually prefer when Noct is the angsty one, but it was pretty fun to switch it up for once.

Regarding Prompto's segment at the beginning, if you'll recall he still has no idea that Noct was personally involved in his rescue. He still thinks Noct is being punished solely for their initial sneaking out of the city. Hopefully that clears up any confusion there.

Next chapter should finally include the reunions. I'm excited to finally wrap this fic up soon!

Thanks so much for sticking with me! And thank you soo much for the feedback! It's been so fun nerding out with a lot of you over these characters, and your wonderful and insightful comments have influenced this fic and my views of the characters so much. I love this fandom.

UPDATE 3/6/19: I'm so sorry to have put this fic on hiatus just before the final chapter, but I inadvertently ended up fandom hopping several weeks ago and I couldn't resist starting a new fic for the My Hero Academia fandom. All of my writing time and interest has been invested in that lately, but I promise this fic will eventually get its concluding chapter.