be my sanctuary

no heart in this storm

TW for abuse and dissociation

_____

Pain was easier to handle when Sting was outside himself.

Right now, for example, he knew that his body ached from the fight with Natsu and Gajeel, and that very soon it was going to get much worse, judging by the look on Jiemma's face. There was a hot flush of embarrassment at being beaten, then a spike of fear at the imminence of being beaten in an entirely different way, but both feelings were dull. Muted. Those feelings belonged to Sting's body, and right now, Sting wasn't there.

From up here, outside his body where Sting watched himself flinch and cower, nothing hurt.

The first blow from Jiemma took Sting by surprise and a tiny flash of pain made it through his consciousness as a cut opened up on his cheek and something cracked in his chest. He knew, logically, that it was bad, but he could deal with that later. Right now, he had to be quiet, say nothing, keep everything hidden so that Jiemma couldn't yank out his feelings and rip them to pieces.

It was just pain, and Sting's body could handle that.

Weaklings. The word flew through the haze of Sting's disjointed consciousness. Losers. The dull roar of Jiemma's voice battered at the barrier between Sting's body and mind but he pushed against it, numbing himself.

You're not here, he thought as he watched himself stumble to his feet. It's just pain. Dimly, he realized that he had pushed Lector behind himself as Jiemma's fist hit his cheek. His body hit the wall again. Sting felt nothing.

Sting was nothing.

"Blame me, Master."

Sting's body shuddered. That was Rogue's voice, and it always made its way through Sting's defenses. He would always come back for Rogue, even if it hurt. Fear wormed its way into Sting's safe space and he felt his consciousness fall.

His chest ached.

He was cold.

Shit.

Sting took a stuttered breath, tasted copper, and shook his head.

Get out, he thought desperately, wiping blood from his forehead. Get out, you're not here, run away. He felt warmth behind his eyes and his breath caught in his throat. Get out before he finds other ways to hurt you.

"I was weak."

If Rogue's first statement hadn't slammed Sting back to his body before, his quiet whisper did now. For a moment, returning to himself was overwhelming and Sting nearly threw up from the sensations that assaulted his body all at once, but he somehow managed to stay standing.

Don't look at Rogue, he thought desperately. Seeing the pain on Rogue's face right now would hurt more than any cracked rib or bloody nose. And if Jiemma saw that pain on Sting's face, it would be over.

He looked at Rogue.

Stop, he signed, fingers moving quickly, hoping that Jiemma wouldn't see. Wouldn't understand.

Rogue's eyes brushed over Sting's, then landed back on the ground at Jiemma's feet. Let me save you for once, his fingers said. Please.

Rogue said something else but his voice was so far away, muffled by the blood pounding in Sting's ears. The edges of Jiemma's sharp laugh cut through the haze, but whatever he said was lost to the stab of fear that ran through Sting when Jiemma raised his hand.