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Summary
“Blake! You’re alive! Are you here to break me out? Blake?” Vila flinched back from the bars of his cell when Blake strode past briskly, not even glancing his way, not even breaking his stride.
“Blake…?”
Blake didn’t stop, didn’t turn, only continued on his way until he vanished from sight around the corner at the end of the hallway.
Vila slunk back to his bunk, cursing himself for a fool. Perhaps it hadn’t been Blake at all – perhaps he was losing his mind. But he’d been so sure – sure enough to hope when he knew how dangerous hope was in his current situation. Despair could destroy you – but hope was by far the more dangerous.
Written for Whumptober 2022 and the prompt #13: CAN’T MAKE AN OMELETTE WITHOUT BREAKING A FEW LEGS - Fracture | Dislocation | “Are you here to break me out?”
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