***CW: Uh, yeah. Gore isn't over yet, be advised T^T

Logan blinked away the tears only to find that there were none. Only a sprawling void before him. Greeting him as it had done so many times before.

He scrambled to his feet, looking in every direction. Dread fell in a weeping barrage. The old man had his turn, and it was doubtful that he’d show up again. They never did so in succession.

It’d be one of the others, and Logan was pretty sure he knew which one it would be.

Ice froze Logan’s veins as a horrendously familiar gurgle sounded behind him. Bony fingers closed around his shoulder. With a yelp, he ripped himself free of clutching hands and stumbled away. Turning to face the nightmare he knew awaited him.

Intestines bubbled from deep puncture wounds. Gashes scattered across his abdomen leaking puss, stomach acid, and a number of other revolting fluids. A vitriolic concoction that drizzled down his dingy white scrubs and pooled on the obsidian surface he stood upon.

Corpse-like in nature, he still tried to speak. A jagged slit at the center of his throat spat scarlet rain, distorting the words to nothing more than scrambled jargon. He almost seemed annoyed as he held the wound shut to no avail.

Despite his own, tremendous wounds, his coal eyes were filled with sympathy as he watched Logan. Shaky hands reaching out when talking seemed off the table.

No matter how it seemed, panic slipped beneath Logan’s skin, prickling it from under the surface as Thomas’s mangled image wavered like a malfunctioning television. Completely distorting into nothingness only seconds later. He did that on occasion. Almost as if he didn’t have the strength to control his form like the other two did. But, when he reappeared, he usually did so with that vice-like grip.

“What do you want from me?!” Logan shouted into his vacant surroundings. He choked when Thomas’s image reformed only two inches from his face, spackling his cheeks and nose with warm droplets.

Thomas reached out his hands once more, hints of a mournful grin tugged at his discolored lips. Reflexive hands immediately pushed him away, though he disappeared before hitting the ground. Fear twisted Logan’s intestines into knots, fed on the tension that built while he awaited Thomas’s next appearance. This apparition had always—always—been the hardest to encounter.

Feet pivoting in every direction, Logan’s eyes roved over the vast nothingness that surrounded him. His heels caught in the slick pool Thomas had created where he stood earlier, sending Logan crashing to the ground before he could catch himself. His head smacked the surface with a loud thump and an accompanying splash as he landed in the thick sludge of bodily fluids. If it weren’t for the stars speckling his eyesight and the throbbing pain of his skull, he would have been retching, adding to the filthy puddle.

Then, as his vision cleared, he saw Thomas. A line of intestine slipped out of a thick gash as he leaned over Logan. Falling gently against his leg. Slimy caresses trailing down his calf.

Logan screamed. Liquids running over his arms as he scrambled to leave the pool he laid in. But Thomas seemed to not take notice, gently guiding Logan to a sitting position. As he trembled, his breaths ragged pants of horror, Thomas brought him close. Holding him against his wounded chest. Thomas tried to speak, words escaping the yawning wound stretched over his throat. Logan sat rooted there by terror as muffled cries surfaced. Terror igniting his nerves.

Behind him he heard almost an amused snicker, though he was too frozen to look at whom the voice belonged.

Then, as though beckoned by Logan’s silent cries, golden light pierced through the void. Melting Thomas’s image and bringing with it a gentle warmth. It dissolved the cold blackness around Logan. Worked through his trembling limbs. Smoothed out the rigid tension that bound his muscles.

The comforting aura was one he was wholly unfamiliar with, but it swept him into its embrace and he let it. Reveling in its tender hold. Sudden exhaustion gripped his lids, pulling them shut in seconds. As sleep began to overtake him, Logan felt a sudden panic.

“Don’t leave me,” he whispered to the scintillating light. Gold flecks dancing behind his closed eyes.

The energy pulsed. An answer Logan didn’t think he’d receive. Sending him falling into deep, enriching slumber. Burning away any remnants of the nightmare before him.

A Profound Cold