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[ Before he opens his eye, he's overcome with a sense of wrong. There's a strange mechanical hum that shouldn't be present and his body doesn't feel like it's eating him from the inside out. In fact, he feels fine? Better rested than he's felt in what feels like ages. He lays on a pretty comfortable bed (first red flag) that smells clean enough but with the edge of dust (second red flag). Mulling over his thoughts, which feel like a jumbled tangle of thread, things are starting to come back as if emerging from a fog.

Taking a steadying breath, he opens his eye and has to shield his vision with his arm as he's assaulted with bright, fluorescent light. Wait. That's... not right. Like. Super not right.

Sitting up and getting a full picture of what he's dealing with, the breath leaves his chest like a physical blow. He knows this place. Hell, how could he forget the place he'd been sent to twice? Looking down at himself pretty much confirms it, his clothes clean and like new when they'd been anything but when he'd closed his eye last.

The Marsiva.. Now that he's more aware, he stands and looks around to gather his bearings. It's pretty much like he remembered. Carl runs a hand over a bit of paneling as he makes his way over to the large window overlooking the Fleet, tinny music crackling through the speakers above. Not as clear as it usually was, almost like a radio running out of batteries..

The view is still vast and endless, making him feel insignificant in the sea of stars. Out there floating in orbit is the Fleet- or what's left of it. That singular eye widens seeing what looks like half the ships torn apart as wreckage while the others chug along like nothing is out of the ordinary. He doesn't know how long he's been gone, but the way everything feels functional but in a state of neglect..

It feels too much like how things were back home when everything had gone to shit for a few months, making him uneasy. He doesn't know what day it is, there doesn't seem to be anything keeping track of the time or date. It's going to teleport him over to a ship automatically, right?

Right?!

He can feel the panic building in his chest, threatening to get caught in his throat. Carl catches sight of the broadcast system and makes for it on legs that feel a little more like jelly than he wants. His fingers are shaking when he presses the intercom button. ]

. . .-llo? H-hello? If anyone can hear-- -- plea--

Coil had hit this world like landing wrong in an ice-cold pool. Aside from those first few moments of half-consciously absorbing the ambience of the ship--a humming engine, makes sense, he'd fallen asleep in the car during the long drive home hadn't he?--every moment had been nothing but mounting spikes of anxiety. He'd had nightmares like this. An infinity of black, mindless ships and wreckage suspended in it, surrounded by empty halls and dead comms. Alone.

Again.

Somewhere in the cavernous ship, Coil is currently losing his mind. He can't use his voice to vent his frustration, but he can use his body. The sound of desperate human fists slamming into metal echos down the halls.

Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang!--

Over and over. He's so lost in his heedless, heartbroken rage that he almost misses the soft crackle of the comms entirely. It's only the last word or two and a hiss of static that manage to get through to him between strikes, and he freezes immediately in place. Panting breath is suddenly caught and held, burning in his lungs while he strains to listen.

Seconds tick by on nothing but dead air. He doesn't hear another word... but, eventually, there is an electrical pop. Something's trying to connect.

He flies to the comm, then. He practically attacks the keyboard, sending out a hasty message.

hello is someone there

With how half the lights on this panel don't seem to be lit, however, there's no way to be sure the message even successfully sent.

No one immediately responds, and it takes a great deal more effort not to panic than it should. He's been alone before, but the thought of being alone in the middle of space? God, it's fucking terrifying. Thankfully he doesn't have to wait long as a message flashes across the screen.

hello is someone there

Relief floods his veins and he lets out a whoop of victory that in no way could have been a sob if this hadn't worked out. Honest.

hello! I'm here! Where are you?

He waits eagerly for a response, his arms crossed defensively in front of himself, his leg bouncing with nervous energy. Carl doesn't care who it is, just that he's not completely alone. Then they can figure out how to fix whatever is happening.

While he waits, staring holes through the screen, a headache beings to creep into his temples from how hard his jaw is clenching.

There's another little pop. He considers searching the massive ship for a more functional comm panel, but the fear of a response coming back as soon as he looks away keeps him rooted to the spot, desperately hoping that this one is working well enough to display a message if one does come through.

His fear is proven halfway true. Words finally pop up on the dark screen, but they're flickering so badly that it takes some squinting to make out. Once he deciphers the question, he replies.

marsiva

looking for zhas

where are you

His own console seems to be working properly at least. He waits there with his arms crossed, his leg bouncing in anxiety. As the responses come through, that lead weight in his stomach rises to somewhere behind his ribs.

marsiva

Okay, so in theory, he doesn't have to go very far. That's a relief in itself though he doesn't know who is stuck here with him. Honestly? He'd take fucking Negan if it meant he didn't have to be back in this place completely alone. Loneliness can kill just as easily as an asshole with a knife.

looking for zhas, where are you

There's only one person he knows who would be looking for Zhas, and it makes his heart beat faster. Carl doesn't waste any time moving from the console toward where he thinks more of the ship is accessible. He'd never gone further than the welcome center before. He hadn't needed to even if the Atroma had given them passage. His strides are purposeful and he cups his hands around his face to project his voice down the empty halls.

"Hello!? COIL???!"

Of course Coil had left the welcome center as soon as he'd arrived--it had been empty, and passage into the rest of the ship had mysteriously left open. Of course he had immediately set off into maze of Marsiva's guts to resolutely hunt down whoever was responsible for this outrage. Now in the depths of a labyrinth of weird, empty rooms and aging control panels, the last thing he's expecting is to hear traces of a voice reaching out from back the way he'd come from.

At least... he thinks that's the direction. It's hard to tell with the way these vacant halls echo.

He reluctantly tears his eye away from where he's waiting with held breath for something more to appear on the flickering screen, and--with a stressed breath hissing out of him--he jogs out of this nook and into the attached corridor.

He can't yell back. The only way he can alert what he desperately hopes is another person to his location is to haul back and kick the loosest-looking metal panel of the wall.

As he hurries through a sliding door, he hears a low, echoing clang of something being hit. It carries through the long, empty corridor that never seems to end. Carl hopes that the noise is coming from Coil and that he's not being tricked or something. Who the hell would bother tricking someone like him, anyway? But the way everything looks so abandoned makes him positive this is the real deal.

God, he hopes this is real.

It has to be. Why would he remember being here, then being another place.. all to be brought right back here again? It doesn't make much sense, but this place at least, he'd learned to call home. Missed it terribly when he remembered.

Carl breaks into a run as he nears the end of a hallway before splitting off in opposite directions. All he needs is a glance to see the lone figure standing down the hall before he's running as fast as his legs will carry him toward who he can now confirm is definitely Coil. The poor guy won't get much of a choice as Carl nears him, wrapping his arms firmly around his friend in a bone-crushing hug.

"I'm so fucking glad it's you."

Coil had mentioned Zhas' name in the message he'd sent because he'd dared to hope that maybe someone out there would find the message and recognize the name. Maybe there were crews on some of those half-wrecked ships, and maybe Zhas was with them. He'd beaten Coil to the Fleet once before, so... it wasn't completely beyond the realm of possibility. He hadn't actually expected such an impossibility to be true, of course, but he could hope.

This hope had grown exponentially the moment that he'd heard a voice echoing down the halls. By the time he could actually make out the sound of footfalls rapidly heading in his direction, some part of his brain had suddenly and desperately latched onto the expectation that Zhas had found him.

So, when Carl appears at the intersection of the corridors instead, Coil is struck with both heart-rending disappointment and disorienting shock. Breath is caught tight in his chest as he stares because he's gutted and confused and relieved and--

Carl is crashing into him and squeezing that held breath right out of his lungs. He must have also been expecting this to be some sort of illusion or dream, because the realness of the arms around him startles him badly. It's a full-body flinch. And for the first second or two, Coil is tense and frozen because this isn't possible. It can't be Carl.

But, hearing his voice makes it real. Even if this is some sort of hallucination, the way that something in Coil's chest tugs at the sound of Carl's voice makes Coil not want to try dispelling it.

Now struck with the fear of suddenly having someone in front of him that he doesn't want to lose, Coil finally latches onto Carl just as tightly, mashing his face against the other boy's shoulder.

If Carl weren't so adamant about making sure it's real for both of them, he'd feel a little more guilty about the way Coil jolts against him as he hugs his friend like it's the last time he'll ever see him. In a place like this, it's hard to know when the last time will be and he's choosing to be just a little selfish. Normally, he'd pay attention to somebody's body language and relent.. but it's Coil and it's so goddamn lonely on the ship without him.

He's got an apology on the tip of his tongue when he feels Coil latch on and his head hitting his shoulder. Carl doesn't even need to think about it before he's tipping his own head so they can press together.

Now that they're here, holding onto each other hard enough that neither could disappear, he can feel all the anxiety and fight bleed out of his body. It doesn't really matter what they have to go through so long as it's together- and it's a place that they know pretty well. The problem will just be leaving the Marsiva. Not really something he gives a shit about right now.

"'s okay, I'm here now." It's something his dad has said to him more times than he can count and it always made him feel safe. Not that Coil needs saving or protecting, he's one of the most capable people he's ever met... but sometimes people need to hear it. He's tired of not saying what needs to be heard and he's never been dishonest with Coil.

"Missed you." Even as he says it, it sounds clingy and lame, but it's true. He doesn't know how much time has actually passed since he saw his best friend, but it definitely feels like too long.

Coil has no idea why he's here--again--he doesn't know where Zhas is, he doesn't know how any of this is even possible or how much time has actually passed between any of these stupid windows of reality that he has been pulled through over the years. In this moment, all he knows for sure is that he had finally returned home after all of it, he had remembered everything that had happened, and hadn't expected any of those ghosts to ever come back.

Of course he'd been overjoyed and relieved to be back where he belonged after so much otherworldly confusion and torment. It'd been all he'd wanted for years. There's always a trade-off, though. He'd reclaimed his family, but he'd left behind someone else who he'd wished very hard that he'd been able to forget.

Carl's words might be clingy and lame, but hearing them causes Coil to pull in a bigger breath, stretching his ribs with it, and it sounds shuddery on the way back out. His fingers tighten against fabric for a moment. The sentiment is very much returned.

Carl gives Coil a firm squeeze before dropping his arms, but he'll linger a little closer in case his friend needs a minute. He takes the time to look around where they're at- nondescript hallways in as much a state of neglect as the rest of the ship but more untouched. Like a time capsule that's just been opened. It doesn't make sense why they're both here again, even less so because they'd gone somewhere else after this.

There's a big gap of nothing in his memory between Havenwell and now that he really doesn't want to think about. The memories aren't a seamless transition from one to the next, but in the here and now, he can push it to the back of his mind. His relief at seeing Coil again is overwhelming, making his chest feel tight.

"So how do we check on the rest of the Fleet?"

As soon as Carl's arms fall away from him, Coil pulls back into his own space enough to quickly drag his sleeve across his eye and shake his head. He doesn't know. But, that's a kneejerk answer. Give him a second for another steadying breath and he'll work on putting actual thought toward it.

First thing--he glances back toward the vacant room he'd just stepped out of. The communication panel he'd sent his message from looks a little more elaborate than the one in the Hospitality Deck, but it's still only barely functional. So, he turns back to Carl. He still looks shaky and deeply rattled, but being forced to put his mind toward selecting what signs to use always helps to level him out.

In this case, he opts for the most minimal way possible to get his thought across. When he brings up his hand to sign, it's immediately clear that his knuckles are bleeding and already beginning to swell, so he slowly spells out 'p-a-n-e-l' and gestures toward Carl. Maybe wherever Carl had messaged from had been better?

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@mortalcoil

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