A/N: Be safe.

Safe

Six couldn't tell if that deafening thudding was something about to lurch around the corner or the sound of her own sporadically beating heart. Either way, she could barely hear anything else and tried to huddle up into an even tighter ball than she already was, if that was even possible, just a yellow speck on the cold, filth-covered metallic floor.

It increased, both the thudding and the beat of her heart, and she could hear it… that raspy wheezing, the sound of some eldritch creature struggling to breathe on the stale air circulating through the room. She had both hands pressed to her face, inhaling and exhaling so slowly and quietly that she could feel herself growing lightheaded.

But she would much rather suffer the encroaching headache than be killed.

THWUMP.

The scream rose in her throat, but she swallowed it, lapsing into a round of shivers.

TWHUMP.

A shoe longer than she was tall fell down before her and her eyes widened. She couldn't see much else thanks to her hiding place underneath the crib but the shoe stayed where it was while something out of sight sniffed and smelled the air, those rattling breaths almost hungry, as if it could sense there was prey around… but where?

Where she clutched her face was going painfully numb but she knew even the slightest bit of slack in her grip would yield the scream she was desperately trying to keep within.

The shoe moved on, followed by the other shoe, thudding off into the distance—and those were shortly followed by the longest, most lankiest arms she had ever the displeasure to see. She didn't even know arms could grow to that obscene length, dragging behind the creature like limp noodles that ended in hands with diseased-looking gray flesh and fingers more snake-like than anything. They slithered behind the shoes, being pulled along, and she watched them go, refusing to blink even as the cold sweat she was soaked in invaded her eyes with stinging force.

When she was quite alone, she waited longer, barely breathing, consciousness fading, until something slammed in the distance, signifying the monster had moved into a different room. At once, she flipped onto her front and screamed into the metal floor, the sound muffled and only one-sixth the volume it would have normally been. When she was through, she fell still, sucking down mouthfuls of air into her little form, thankful she was still alive to do so.

That was usually the routine whenever she was cornered like that: hide, wait, pray, and then, if she was lucky enough to avoid capture, scream out all the fear that had her body frozen so that her limbs could function as they should.

Her stomach was still flipping but she pushed herself up, onto her knees at first because her legs simply refused to act as legs should, trembling so hard that she had to steady herself with her palms on the floor.

That… that was too close, she thought, swallowing. How did he even know I was in here? I didn't make a single sound, nothing was knocked over, none of the other kids made a noise… did they?

After a few seconds, she was able to stand and, very carefully, she tiptoed from underneath her cover, checking both ways. The room was vast, lit by a single dim bulb that did nothing for clarity, only throwing menacing shadows over everything like monsters were waiting everywhere. She had to constantly tell herself that the only monsters to fear were those that actively chased her; if it moved, it was dangerous.

Softly she swayed in spot as the ship, this behemoth called The Maw, was jostled by the sea. Her memory on how she arrived on this dreadful vessel was beyond fuzzy but she was determined to escape, having journeyed through numerous rooms, escaping not only the multitude of leeches that liked to drop from the ceiling like dive bombers but also… the Janitor, that long-armed beast from earlier. She didn't know if that's what it was actually called but she had spied it doing custodial duties from time to time… like stuffing what looked like children her size into sacks before hooking them onto a conveyor belt, mopping up gelatinous puddles of crimson that smelled terribly of blood, and trying in vain to patch up the many leaks and dripping faucets that plagued this ill-fated ship….

Her grip on the crib leg intensified until her knuckles turned white. The last thing she wanted was to be shoved into another dark space like a piece of meat….

Something heavy banged to the floor in the distance and she jumped, quite literally, before clutching at her heart, squeezing a tight handful of her yellow raincoat. Her nerves were beyond shot; every noise, no matter how big or small, caused her to twitch like a timid squirrel.

The only thing that gave her peace of mind, that gave her the courage to keep going in this waterlogged hell, was what she was currently fishing for in her coat. Her trembling fingers wrapped around something slim and cool, and she pulled out a little lighter.

She gave it a flick.

Nothing happened.

The smallest needle of fear prodded at her heart. She gave the lighter a starting shake and flicked it again.

The fire that erupted not only gave her a clearer view of things but warmed her very soul and she sighed with relief.

"Don't do that," she berated softly, fixing the lighter with a scolding frown. "One flick next time, alright? One flick."

Barefoot, she started on, the light illuminating her way. There were many cribs in the room, each of them filled with a peacefully sleeping occupant, though she found it odd how anyone could possibly manage to sleep in these damp, miserable conditions. Maybe they weren't sleeping, she figured solemnly, crawling underneath one, maybe they were drugged or something….

Everything in The Maw seemed to be ridiculously big in comparison to her, almost claustrophobically so, to the point where she had to regularly climb dresses and chairs to reach her destination. The cribs were very high, the ceiling was higher, while the metal floor seemed to stretch on like the rolling planes of some faraway countryside. When she eventually reached the end of room, she stared up at the door, more specifically at the doorknob out of her reach.

"Of course…."

Anxiety was beginning to creep over her small shoulder as she glanced around for a chair, or a box—anything to give her leverage. The closet thing within her circle of light was a crookedly positioned crib with one of the corners close enough that she could probably leap onto the knob from it.

She didn't like that idea at all, mostly because the probability of falling and breaking her neck, or worse, alerting the Janitor, were extremely high, but... there was no other route available. After getting a mental image of the crib in her mind, she closed the lighter, which plunged her back into a chilling state of semi-darkness. The climb was rather easy, it always was despite her spindly limbs, and she crested the top in a matter of seconds, choosing to hang on the edge while she peeked through the bars. The occupant, what looked like a boy around her age as all the children seemed to be, was asleep like the others, so as quietly as she could she pulled herself up and over the side, landing on the cushion with all the stealth of a cat.

"Okay... slow. Take it slow..."

It wasn't until she was halfway across the crib that she stepped in something wet… something sickeningly cold….

Growing deathly still, she glanced down like her neck had a crick in it, able to make out the damp patch of red her foot was planted in despite the encroaching darkness. Her mind began to race with a multitude of questions, so many that her head gave an unholy throb; a chill was fast racing up her leg, causing her shaky exhales to fog before her eyes.

It was then she noticed that the boy… she couldn't hear the same peaceful snores coming from him that perforated the room. In fact, he didn't seem to be breathing at all.

Move, she commanded herself, gritting her teeth, keep moving... come on, legs, please move!

But she was rooted to the spot and could only watch in horror as the boy began to stir, sluggish and fatigued as if rising from the grave, turning onto his back and revealing a face that was mangled from the sunken bloodshot eyes to the sagging flesh spilling down his cheeks; his nose was missing entirely, nothing but two slits carved where it should have been; a large, stained bandage covered his mouth while a thick brownish liquid that smelled nauseatingly of rotting meat dribbled from underneath. She felt quite sure that he had whispered the word, "Help", but the scream that burst from her mouth had drowned everything out.

It only lasted for a split second before she slapped a hand over her lips and bit into her palm to shut herself up. She couldn't look away if she wanted to, couldn't tear her gaze away from the pleading pair of eyes before her….Just what in the world had happened to him? Where was his nose? What was all that brown liquid? He was trying to reach out to her with a wizened hand, the slightest moment causing his face to screw up with intense agony.

"Help…" he managed again, but she swiftly shook her head, surprised to find herself with her back pressed up against the crib bars.

"I—no, I—"

She didn't get a chance to finish whatever she was trying to stammer out when a door banged open very close by and she heard those thudding footsteps approaching in a hurry. Instincts overrode everything and she dove forward, ignoring the ailing boy to scurry underneath his covers. She regretted doing that almost instantly, when the most horribly fetid smell assaulted her nostrils; she had to choke down the urge to retch. The surrounding darkness blinded her to what was giving off that smell, and for that she was grateful, doubting she would be able to stomach it.

She could feel the boy squirming weakly next to her and for one gut-wrenching second, thought he was going to expose her—but then she felt the covers settle over her feet, which had been left out in the open.

"S-safe," was what she heard the boy whisper before the footsteps came to a halt next to their crib and he was snatched from the bed.

For the longest of moments, she remained where she was, immobilized under the covers with fear and bowled over with regret. Long after those echoing footsteps had vanished into the distance, long after a deafening silence once more reigned… and long after her nose had gotten used to whatever foul aroma permeated the sheets, she didn't move an inch.

Until eventually, slowly, Six emerged from the jumbled pile of blankets and pushed herself up onto her knees. Standing wasn't an option, not with the way she was trembling, and she began to rock back and forth, hugging herself tight. It was still there, the decaying feeling of death's cold fingers clamped around her neck, hungry to drag her off her mortal coil.

Her mind had yet to catch up to the miraculous fact that she was still breathing, which is why she clung to herself, afraid that she would suddenly fall over dead if she didn't give her body every ounce of contact to let it know that, yes, she could still see, hear, feel—every ounce of her was still alive. Her heart raced, her stomach wouldn't stop churning—

Which is what propelled her to scramble to the edge of the crib, clinging to the bars with both hands as she vomited over the side. Thankfully, whatever coated the metallic floor below muffled the unsettling splashing sounds as Six emptied her stomach. It wasn't a terribly long moment and she subsided into dry heaving after a few seconds, struggling to keep her grip strong so as not to slip between the railing.

She burped, trails of saliva hanging from her mouth and she wiped them away with the back of her hand. Then she took that hand and gripped her face, squeezing tight. That was the closest she could recall being to death, and it scared her senseless.

With her stomach now mercifully empty, what filled her now was corroding regret, so much so that she whipped around, nearly cracking her neck, and fumbled her way to the head of the crib. She snatched the covers back and beheld a rancid outline consisting of dried blood, flecks of flesh, and other decayed waste that crinkled her face with despair.

She reached out with a trembling hand, unable to comprehend much else besides the fact that she was supposed to be dead right now.

"N-not you... me..."

Her finger disturbed the outline as she dragged it through, gathering the grit there. She lifted it to her face, stared transfixed for a moment or two, then swiped the cold, viscous substance over her cheek.

"My time to die," she whispered tragically, and her eyes began to sting. Everything was growing blurry, obscured by the tears building. "Not yours..." Her heart felt so heavy, her chest so tight, that breathing was quickly becoming troublesome and she clutched at the front of her yellow raincoat. "I'm sorry..."

When she collapsed sideways onto the boy's pillow, as the scenery around her began to sink into a darkness more pronounced than anything the Maw could dredge up, Six knew she was passing out; and there was no doubt in her mind that this crib would become her final resting place.

Which she felt highly appropriate. It was what she deserved, to be found by the stalking Janitor and whisked away to be subjected to whatever horrible death lay in what for escapees. She hoped it would be quick... she hoped she wouldn't wake up mere seconds before being pulled apart, or stabbed onto a conveyor hook...

"I'm sorry," she cried. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm..."

Something warm touched Six on the cheek, something that felt like a small hand. She almost smiled. She could feel her body moving... floating... and it was a wonderful experience... this death...

"Hey, hey..." called a voice that sounded just at her ear and half the world away at the same time.

She would have answered back, but she was limp, conscious steadily seeping away, the last futile synapses in her brain firing, trying to bring her back...

She was still floating, floating against something warm and moving very quickly.

"Don't give up, raincoat," she heard the voice command, and Six had to wonder who this 'raincoat' was and why they were being told not to give up.

Giving up felt great. It really did, the ethereal satisfaction of being weightless, free of burden, of fear and pain, of just everything—

"We're gettin' off the Maw!" the voice echoed and somehow, someway, Six's heart lurched and her eyes snapped open like she had just gotten tapped with a cattle prod.

The first thing she noticed was that she was no longer in the crib, no... she had somehow made it into the spacious drawer of some extremely waterlogged dresser. The second thing she noticed was the boy knelt over her, a boy her size with disgustingly long, shaggy hair that came down to his nose, half obscuring his face. And beyond him was deck of playing cards propped up on some tacks that served as a table of sorts, around which were gathered two others, two more girls, both of whom looked as though they hadn't gotten sleep in months but carried a blazing resolve in their tired eyes.

"I... b-but I... I was dead—" Six sputtered, so confused that

"You're not dead yet, raincoat," the boy responded, patting her on the shoulder. "If I hadn't heard your scream then maybe but... you're not. We found you," and he gestured at himself and the other girls.

None of what this strange boy said registered with Six on a level she could comprehend, but she recognized the voice... the one that had talked to her while she was busy thinking she had died... she was 'raincoat'.

"We didn't find anything," the first girl replied icily, and she turned back to the table, wavering somewhat before steadying herself, "you were the one who ran off when you heard a scream."

"Good thing, though, right?" the boy reasoned, nodding at Six, who was still glancing around, clutching at her chest. "We found another alley."

"Found dead weight," the second girl muttered, and she turned around as well, joining the first girl in going over a tattered piece of paper that housed some very poor map-like drawings.

Now that Six focused on him, she saw that the boy was smiling despite the pointed misgivings of the other two. "She ain't dead weight... she's different, like us. She's survived for this long and... a-and... I mean, ain't it just great?"

The boy's voice cracked as he finished and he lowered his head. Where Six wholly expected him to start crying, as she was well-versed in the tell-all signs of a good cry coming, she was surprised when the boy started to chuckle instead, making sure to keep his voice low.

"Cry when we get outta here, Four," the first girl scolded in softer tones.

The boy... Four... sniffled, lifting his head, and as he rubbed under his nose, shaking hair from his face, Six felt her stomach drop when she saw the roughly hewn leather patch that covered his right eye. "I... I wasn't gonna cry," he insisted, only to have the second girl scoff.

"Crybaby, all the time crybaby," she taunted.

"Am not," Four said stoutly, even though Six could clearly see that his visible eye was red-rimmed. Yet he continued to smile at her. "I'm just s-so happy. I thought... for a long time I was startin' to think we were on our own, ya know? And now... now I know we're not!"

"We were never alone, Four," the first girl snapped in all sarcasm, "we've always had the Janitor for company, haven't we? And the Cooks, lemme tell ya, they make for some fine conversationalists when they're not trying to cleave us in half."

The cooks? Six wondered.

"Ignore Seven back there," Four said dismissively, "she's just cranky we couldn't nip some coffee this morning—"

"Because someone had to run off 'cause of this dead weight's damsel in distress call!" Seven barked in low tones.

Six heard, and at the same time, she didn't. She was more transfixed on what Four had just said, something about... the morning? Was it still morning, or had it passed? How could they even keep track of such a miraculous thing down here?

"Bladdity bladdity blah," Four said mockingly, climbing to his feet. He extended a hand to Six with a broad smile. "C'mon, raincoat, get up. We could us the help and you could use the excuse to keep living. So join us, it's safe."

That last word echoed so horribly within Six's psyche that she visually shook. What did it even mean anymore? Nowhere on the Maw was safe, not back there, not here, not anywhere—being safe was a cruel concept that didn't exist for her, for them, or for anybody. It was a dream that she didn't have time to entertain.

Because she was alive. That was twice she had been scheduled to die... and twice death had been denied a soul. The boy she would never get to know and thank... and this one here, the boy standing over here and spouting all these uplifting words that did nothing for Six except bring his sanity into question. She wondered how he, Seven, and that other girl had managed to survive as long as they had, as long as she had; she wanted to ask about this place in particular, where in the Maw were they? And what were they planning? How did they know it was morning? And what was coffee?

Six reached out, taking Four's hand, and he tugged her upright.

"So you ready to get outta here?"

Was she... ready to get out of here? To leave the Maw? Six didn't know, honestly. Certainly, she wanted to, it was what she dreamed of everyday, of somehow escaping and finding home, wherever that was, but she also felt assured in the fact that she wouldn't be able to escape death a third time. Her resting place was most likely going to be the Maw, that much she expected, but this boy... especially this boy... she was going to make sure he got out before she took her last breath.

At least him.

So she could be the one saying "Safe" for once.

"Okay," she said with a nod, and Four's face lit up with an exuberant expression that Six had not seen for a woefully long time.

"And the family gets bigger!" Four exclaimed.

"We're not a family," Seven snapped.

"Kinda are," the other girl pointed out with a small shrug. "Family nice, no lonely no more."

If Seven wanted to refute that, and Six felt that she strongly did, the look on the other girls voice killed whatever vitriol she was going to spit, replacing it with a sigh.

"Whatever," Seven grunted, then snapped her fingers. "Four, raincoat—get over here, our window of opportunity for some food is coming and I'm hungry enough to eat the both of you if you mess this up."

Four met her threat with a laugh as he hurried over, signaling for Six to do the same, although Six approached at a slower, more methodical pace.

Because, like Seven, Six had a plan of her own.

Protect the boy... protect Four.

Get him off the Maw.

Die.

She inhaled, then softly exhaled.

"Safe."

FIN