All he could think about was how badly his foot hurt.

The only distractions that crossed his mind were how badly his arm felt, how badly the rest of him felt, how dark it was right now, and what an easy target he'd be to ambush or eat.

I really shouldn't have been so reckless with that monster…but then, it wasn't like I escaped the rest of that little escapade beforehand with no injuries…

He was alone out here. It was an unreasonable hour of the morning, and he was trying his best to force himself to continue walking until he reached some point of shelter. But as if that wasn't enough of an unfortunate situation to be in, he was worn out from blood loss and was barely moving faster than almost a crawl. The only difference was that he'd managed to stay standing—well, after he'd fallen down a few times before.

The puffball winced, grabbing his arm and then quickly pulling away. His foot still didn't feel any better, and he didn't know why he still had his sword out at this point. If something attacked him, he was in no shape to defend himself anyway.

He'd been adventuring by himself, not expecting anything difficult…but of course he'd had to stumble into a particularly rough bit of terrain, and then into an even rougher, confined forest with plenty of things to hurt him, and to top it off, he'd been ambushed by a few rowdy monsters that packed a bit more of a punch than he'd anticipated. Okay—far more of a punch than he'd anticipated. He really was quite beaten up from them all.

Conclusion: He really needed sleep, shelter, and some medical attention. He didn't have any bones to break, but that didn't stop him from getting injured to the point he was at now.

He'd tried to keep telling himself it could be worse, and that he was just imagining the pain. But as he continued to drag himself across this seemingly-endless plain, everything had become too much to ignore. Every part of his body had some bruise or cut or injury; his armor hadn't helped protect him in some scenarios…It had taken its fair share of punishment too, and the pieces he had left really were pieces. He couldn't tell for sure, but he could have sworn that some of the metal fragments had sliced him when they broke, or that they may still have been stuck in his body…

…but he was dizzy and everything hurt and stars, he just wanted to lie down…

His foot and arm hurt so bad…

He didn't know what he'd do if he fell over one more time…

He needed at least some shelter, so he could rest, if anything at all. He wasn't safe out here in this state, particularly at night. But after these hours had passed by, and he still wasn't in range of any help at all…

He couldn't take any more. His body couldn't take any more. The next thing he felt was his body hitting the ground, rekindling all the pain from his injuries. His blurry vision hovered so close to blacking out into unconsciousness, something that was so dangerous right now, but so tempting…

Everything looked blacker than it already did…

That tempting blackness never fully took over. He just remained lying on the ground, helpless to anything around him. He had no idea what he should do.

Maybe…he just needed to regroup.

What do I even have on me…that could help?

Wait a minute. He was still carrying the modified phone Kirby had given him. Surely, that might be of some use to him.

It was admittedly the most successful-sounding thought that had crossed his mind all night.

He didn't take the phone out immediately; he wasn't even sure if he could stay conscious long enough after hitting the ground and sending more waves of pain through his body. It seemed as if he lay there for hours before he even managed to move his paw without screaming in pain.

But he eventually managed to focus enough to reach into the corner of his cape (which, since it had been vanished away in favor of having his wings out, was in perfectly good condition) and retrieve the phone. The bright screen in the darkness messed with his blurry vision at first, but with a few more minutes, he could see enough to guess what he was doing and try to go ahead with his plan.

He could barely gather the strength to tap the screen; his arm hurt so badly when he moved it. After a few attempts of pressing the wrong button and having to go back, he pulled up the checklist of numbers he'd made for his closer contacts—Kirby, Dedede, and Bandana Dee. At first, he considered calling all of them.

…But as his paw hovered over Kirby's name, his reasoning wavered.

He could rely on Kirby. Kirby could save anyone, anywhere, no matter how pitiful their life was.

He wanted to be rescued. He didn't know how much longer he could take lying here like this. But deep down, he had to question why Kirby should waste his time only to come pick him up and drop him off—essentially, just giving him a ride. That wasn't something heroes should have to do. Heroes had more important things to do.

I'm his friend, he tried to reason with himself. Maybe he won't be that irritated if he thinks I'm badly hurt. Kirby is really forgiving, remember?

But…Kirby could be fighting a monster. Maybe a huge monster, or a tyrant responsible for wrecking the peace of Dream Land. Granted, he had no way of knowing what Kirby was doing, but if he called while Kirby was fighting, the distraction could very well be lethal.

…

…

No. I won't risk Kirby's kindness causing his death just for me. Someone else will answer.

He unchecked Kirby's name from the message list.

As he scrolled through the connections that he had listed, he realized he had very few options. He didn't have many contacts, and he'd never bothered plugging the number he kept for the Halberd's contacts onto his phone. He at least had Trident Knight's, but…who would answer at this hour of the night?

He kept Bandana Dee's name on the list, but he highly doubted that the Dee would answer. It was too late at night, and Bandana Dee didn't keep close tabs on his electronics unless he knew there was a chance of an emergency occurring. There were one or two others he could call for help, but most of the people he'd registered were business contacts; businesses that had already closed for the night.

He ended his list with three names, all of which would probably be asleep, or occupied elsewhere, or would just generally miss his message. He called all of them, and turned on the phone's locator in case one of his friends did get the message and have the notion to find him.

He barely made it through all of the calls without crying. Every single one ended with an answering machine.

He tried a few more times, but got no different response. The wind got a little colder, and the clouds in the sky started to gather more. Realizing that he was running out of time to rely on someone else, he glanced around to find some sort of shelter. There was little to none, except a nearby boulder, but…admittedly, it was his only option, so he took it. There wasn't any overhang, so he was essentially trying to squeeze himself under it. It wouldn't do to protect him in the rain, but he didn't have the strength to make it much farther. It had been bad enough just making it this far, with his foot injured.

This was so…stupid of him. He should have been stronger than this. He should have been able to make it to shelter even with his injuries! And instead, he was stuck huddling under a boulder that wasn't even going to protect half of him!

He couldn't help but glance back down at his phone to see if anybody had answered. He flipped to the messaging page—

'Battery critically low; 8%.'

He had roughly four minutes of time left on this device, at most.

Call Kirby. Hurry; call Kirby!

He felt torn inside for making a decision like this. But he didn't really have much of a choice. He couldn't use his sword to recharge the phone because he risked destroying it, and that was the only real, bizarre guess he could make to fix that problem. Once the phone went down, he was on his own to crawl to whatever destination he could find. Any sort of help would be out of the question.

And it was starting to rain, hard.

The phone's power was dropping quicker than he anticipated. It was difficult to tap the buttons while trying to keep both the device and his injuries out of the rain, but he managed to make it to Kirby's number and tap the icon to put the call through…right as the screen went black. The battery couldn't function properly when it was below 7%, and he had just hit 5% as he pressed the button. He tried to turn the phone back on, but was greeted with nothing but a brief flash of an icon for an empty battery. He couldn't help but sigh in defeat, holding the phone closer to him as the rain beat down even harder.

If or when he made it out of this, the phone would probably be drenched and unusable unless he stayed up all night trying to protect it.

The thought suddenly struck him to simply swallow the phone and put it in a bubble, so he could pull it back out when it stopped raining. He checked one last time to see if the battery would work before he completely gave up.

It didn't work.

It hurt to swallow, but now that he didn't have to worry about keeping the phone out of the rain, he could keep more of himself out of the rain.

…which, in all reality, wasn't that much more of himself; the change barely made any difference. The only thing that wasn't the same was that he could at least wrap his arms around himself and try to huddle against the rock to preserve heat. He was more of a cool-natured person, but the rain was cold and the ground was cold and the rock was cold, and he didn't have any ice magic with him so that he'd enjoy all this. Everything he touched sapped his warmth; the more he sheltered from the rain, the more heat the rock stole from him, and the further away he moved from the rock, the more the rain washed his heat away. He'd rather be cold than cold and wet…not that the ground wasn't a muddy disaster.

He tried his best to drift off to sleep. It was all he could do for now; he couldn't fly with the rest of his body injured like this. He couldn't tell if he was just wet or if he was bleeding, but his arm and foot hurt too much to merit attempting to fly. And even ignoring those injuries—and the potential blood loss from exerting force into flying—it wasn't as if his wings hadn't taken damage. Granted, they weren't broken, and he was grateful for that, but he had been held from one of them and he could still swear that it felt as if it would fall off.

He wished so hard that the cold would just make his body numb, but it didn't. It just made his skin tingle where the rain slapped him, and the cold elsewhere was starting to sting. If he hadn't been injured, he probably would have enjoyed the drop in temperature, but the rain in particular was pouring out of the sky as if it were rocks falling instead of water.

…

…How long had it been at this point? It felt like ages since he'd been in that fight, but he knew too well that it had probably been just a few minutes. At this rate, he had no idea how he was supposed to survive the night. He'd never get to sleep, and that meant his body couldn't heal as well, and to top that off, he'd be so tired tomorrow that he couldn't even use any energy to try moving somewhere else.

He wished that he'd lost enough blood that he could have just fallen unconscious. Or sustained some head injury, or something that would have made him fall asleep.

He managed to get to a point where he was half asleep; really, his eyes were just closed and he was a little drowsy. It felt like an eternity was passing when he thought he heard someone saying something. He tried to hide himself a little closer to the rock until he had the chance to pick out whether they were a danger or—

"Meta…Hey…swer…Meta!"

Is someone…

…hey…I…

He…recognized that voice…

The puff felt as if he could cry in happiness, or perhaps just finally release all his feelings from the night. Instead, he tried to make some noise or motion to call them over to him.

It only took a moment for them to hear him. Someone bent down over him, shining a light on him. He heard the rain on something that sounded like an umbrella, and he didn't feel the water beating down on him anymore.

The light flashed more directly in his face, and he winced away from it, closing his eyes. His rescuer didn't care, too happy at finding the puff to risk moving the light and potentially losing him.

"Hey, I got him. Go back to the car; I'll be there in a sec."

The light shifted somewhat away from his eyes, so he took the opportunity to see if his guess was correct.

It was.

Meta Knight tried and failed to push himself into proper posture. "Your…Majesty…"

The penguin flashed him a smirk, offering the puff a hand so he didn't slip and fall over. "Hey, Meta…"

The sapphire puffball didn't respond. After being so close to grabbing at unconsciousness, he wanted to slip back toward there. The king noticed this, along with the rest of his injuries.

"How did that happen?" he asked, voice low. "You look wild, honestly."

"Long story," the puff managed. He hadn't noticed how wet and dirty he was until now, when he could see parts of himself reflected in the flashlight or his king's eyes.

"Here," Dedede said quietly, offering him a cup filled with a liquid of some sort. "Have a little. It'll help."

The most he could do at that point was to take the cup in hand, place his whole hand inside his mouth, and (quite uncomfortably) swallow the liquid with his hand still holding the cup. The king didn't seem to mind when he handed the cup back to him. He just set it to the side and continued looking the puff over.

"Thanks." His glove grazed the puff's cheek, and the soaked puffball flinched away instinctively. "Are you okay enough for us to carry you, or are you just completely torn up?"

"You can carry me," the puff murmured, feeling sleepier now that he wasn't out in the rain or worried that he might be attacked. "Just be careful…"

After worrying that nobody would come for him, he didn't even mind when Dedede accidentally touched his foot while trying to pick him up without hurting him. It was just so, so nice to feel someone's warm paws at a time like this…particularly because he'd expected no one to care. But someone did. And they cared enough to come out to the middle of nowhere at 2 AM, in the pouring down rain, to cart an injured puffball to some place of shelter. How likely was it to run into that sort of person?

The puff felt as if he should express some of his gratitude. He used his good paw to grasp the king's thumb, savoring how dry and soft his glove and robe were. "Thanks, Your…" He couldn't help but yawn briefly, now that he was safe and secure. "…Majesty…"

He could feel the king climbing into the back of his car, and assumed that the voices he heard in the front were the Dees driving. Another Dee was left in the back with what looked like a first-aid kit, and the puff couldn't help but flinch. He knew his injuries had to be healed some time or another, but if he was conscious, he wasn't sure if he could summon the willpower or the fake good mood to deal with the sorts of things they'd probably use on him, like that sanitizer that burned far worse than the…actual injury…

"Don't worry, Meta," the king whispered, rubbing the puff between his aching wings. "You'll be asleep for a while, with that potion. Just relax. You're okay now; I got your message."

For once, the puff had to agree with those orders. Whatever he drank did appear to be working quite well…

"I got your message…"

Meta Knight let a smile slip across his partially-exposed face, even as Dedede pulled the remaining half of his mask off and started drying him off.

Maybe…Maybe it isn't that bad to rely on others, after all…

And as he slipped away to blissful unconsciousness, the king's last sentence kept repeating in his mind.

I'd REALLY like to thank my friend Metanaito-kyou on here/deviantArt for drawing the cover for this story! Go check her out!