Vaughan lay awake far past the time Xavier had dozed off, soft sighs and light breaths accompanied only by the ticking of the clock on the far wall. It echoed louder and louder with each second progressing the day forward beyond his control, and he reminded himself that he must breath. That he must relax.

"In. Out." He reminded himself. 

In.

Out.

He closed his eyes for a moment, scrunching them tight in an effort to keep his breath slow, to not shoot up out of bed and accidently wake the small child in his arms. 

Xavier didn't deserve that. 

The thought brought him more anxiety, and he fought his shaking hands to still, sliding them gently from the small child to wipe onto the blanket. 

He opened his eyes again, the ceiling not his own and the room still the way he had left it. 

For some reason, when memories came at him, ones such as this, it was hard to see wherever he was as he knew it was. The room was there. He knew he was safe, in bed, at the Arya estate with his nephew sprawled across his chest, drooling. 

Vaughn squeezed his eyes shut agian.

But no matter what he told himself, the memories still came.

The memory. 

It was this one single memory, that clouded even his most rational mind. 

He swore he could hear rain.

In.

Out.

In.

Out.

. . . 

. . . . .

. . . . . .

The breath hitched in his throat- he tried to will his lungs to expand, to relax himself into a fitful sleep, to stop his heart from picking up pace.

But his lungs refused the offered air, refused to listen to reason. His mind started to race and he began shaking. 

Not able to continue laying down, eyes still shut tight, he slid as gently out from Xaviers heavily sedated form, trembling as he opened his eyes, willing himself to realize-

He.

Was.

Not.

There.

This was just a memory. The Arya estate was reality. 

Xaviers sleeping form tilted along with the bed in his view and he spun around, forcing a painful breath to enter his lungs as tears ran down his face.

He yearned for the touch of sun, the rain to leave-

He wished his parents were alive-

The door handle was slippery in his palm, he managed to twist it

In-

Out---

---In

In

Out

How could he ever think he could be a good father? He couldn't even care for hismself-

Why did Sydney decide last minute to go?!? Why Did he stay making her reconsider leaving?!?

In---

Out---

The hall tilted, as he managed to make the length of it, face wet.

"I'm in the Arya Estates-" he gasped a strangled breath, squeezing his eyes shut," I am- I am in the Arya Estates, it is safe- I- I- I'm sorry oh god oh god I'm-"

He struggled to remind himself to breath. The only allowance his lungs gave was short chopped things, and his head became light as he fumbled his way into the classroom. It was a quiet place, he needed quiet-

He needed Dawson to have not died. 

It should have been him.

A sudden fear gripped him as he saw the fluttering of the white window covers and it escalated to terror as they suddenly morphed to sterile sheets-

the clock in the distance beat its infernal sound-

despite his eyes wide his mind no longer saw the classroom. Beeping machines- a droning hum of voices murmured in the background- 

a phone rang and-

"It is in his will- Vaughan. You are only upholding his wishes."

"No-" he gasped, suddenly feeling the cool wood of the floor underneath his palms. His knees ached-had he fallen?

"It is for the best- Vaughan."

"It-I was wrong. It's all wrong," he was gasping into the floor terror forming a well known dread and disperse as his breaths continued in to sharp little gasps, nose clogging and eyes running as his voice grew- he covered his mouth willing silence, "I'm sorry Dawson."

"Time of discontinued life support-1512.. . "

"....seam's to be some function lef-"

"It is the brainstems last attempt at.  . . "

"Natural response .  . . ."

Voices surrounded him, varying levels and mixes of consoling to professional.

But he knew.

He knew he had been wrong.

One more day.

It could have been one more hour.

He should have waited for that clock to tick, just a little longer-

Just so the beeps of the monitor would follow.

"Vaughan!"

He realized the voice was not that of memory, despite it being so far in the distance, smothered by the voices of the staff and loved ones in the room with him-

"Vaughan, breath."

Breath was what he had been trying for! He wanted to scream, to cry to-

Dawson.

He wanted Dawson's return more than anything in this world.

His brother would know how to raise Xavier.

Clearly his brother had been doing well heading whatever family business Vaughan had not been privy to until recently.

"Just slow your breath down, it's okay. I have you."

Vaughan realized it wasn't Dawsons tenor in his ears-how long had it been since his brothers comfort had been received? No. It was a deep baritone, vibrating against his face. 

"That's it Vaughan. In through your nose. Out through your mouth. Slow. Steady. I've got you."

I've got you.

When had been the last he had heard such words?

Tears poured out more, and he found his arms again, could feel them despite the tingle in his fingers and the tilt of his head, and wrapped them around the figure above him.

"Let it out. Let it-"

"Dawson!" His voice was broken, cracked," I'm sorry!-Da-D-I can't do anything right I'm sorry!"

The voice was silent, but he was suddenly aware of a large calloused hand on his back, rubbing soothing patterns between his shoulder blades.

"I-I need-I can't do this alone anymore I - I! I'm sorry! I was wrong!"

So wrong. So very wrong as to what he had done.

There was reason his family had hid this secret double life from him.

He reasoned, now-

He wouldn't have been able to satisfy their standard.

Only thing he could do was write- and now he couldn't even manage a word on paper.

"I hear you, Vaughan. I'm here for you. You're not alone. . . I have you. I hear you."

It became a mantra, one in a slow rhythm that eventually his quieting sobs and slowing breath followed. He knew the voice he heard-

The large arms engulfed him.

As the world became a pinpoint moment to the reality of where he was he became aware he was in the lap of the other man. Large muscled thighs holding him, arms engulfing him, voice soothing, hands- large callosed palms on his back-

He was in the Arya estate. He was not in his home. He was in a lap of-

-Blinking he slowly pulled his gaze up to burning coal eyes so close to his own-

Of Myles Arya.