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Chapter Text

Arthur was having an unusual nightmare.

His reoccurring terrors often consisted of losing his loved ones in various ways or more recently Drifter slamming their fist onto the ground and rewinding everything into oblivion. Topics may vary.

What made this particular dream unusual was its location. It was a marvel of his imagination, or perhaps the result of long talks with Drifter about space and Duviri. Pale corridors of smooth, unnatural material trimmed in corroded metal stretched into darkness before him. Banners bore emblems he didn't recognize, and stories-tall windows opened out to swirling blue-green clouds and faint starlight.

It would have made a fantastic dream if he weren't alone in these dark halls with nothing but softly singing shadows that didn't drive him to flee, but instead beckoned him to join them.

Somehow echoing from far behind him and softly in his ear at the same time, he heard a desperate plea. He turned and at the other end of the corridor was a familiar silhouette drowning in a shadowy writhing pool.

"Drifter!"

Their gaze did not rise to meet his, but instead they bowed their head lower, letting the darkness swallow them. Arthur didn't hesitate to wade into the squirming shadows and grab their arm, struggling to pull them free. It was like walking through thick mud as the shadows greedily swallowed their legs. Arthur was suddenly flooded with sorrow, desperation and doubt as black snake-like creatures wormed their way into his heart. He was losing Drifter as they were somehow sinking faster than he was. Gritting his teeth, he pulled with all his inhuman strength. Drifter still sank. Desperately, he grabbed Drifter's head. Cupping their face in both hands, Arthur forced them to look up at him. He was met with a placid smile and a whisper,

"This isn't real."

Arthur could only stare at them incredulously as he fumbled for the edge of the rising floor with one of his hands. Drifter's fingers were cold when they touched his lingering hand. A pained, longing look flitted across their face as they buried their cheek and lips into his hand in an act of sorrowful tenderness before gently pulling his hand away and letting themselves slip into darkness.

Adrenaline tore Arthur awake, only to behold a brick wall barely lit by the shy first light of dawn. Concrete. Steel. Höllvania Central Mall Backrooms. He fought the fear choking him and breathed out a shuttering gasp. Immediately turning to reach for Drifter where they lay beside them, longing to touch their soft hair, feel their warmth and listen to each breath to remind them that they were still there, alive.

But they weren't.

Instead, Arthur pawed at emptiness. His hand slid over their pillow. It was cold.

He shot up, fear wrapping a noose around his throat again. Desperately he started searching the room and felt some ease at seeing the Drifter's favorite Warframe standing peaceful sentinel in the arsenal. Then more at the Kavat, yawning a sleepy question as it lifted it's head from it's bed and blinked at him with tired eyes. Drifter wouldn't leave without them, at the very least.

Right?

After grabbing his gear, he left the Backrooms in search of Drifter. As he began to descend the stairs, he met with an equally worried Eleanor staring up at him, already ascending. They "spoke" at the same time with Elenor's projected thoughts ringing in his head with his voice.

What happened?
"Where are they?"

She shook her head slowly. Fear seized his throat immediately. If Eleanor didn't know where Drifter went...

His thoughts spiraled. Did they go back to the future? Had they become bored? Would he ever see them again? What happened?

After a quick dash up the stairs, Eleanor was there to steady him, grasping his shoulders and meeting his gaze. His knees buckled, and he slumped onto the stairs, with Eleanor following and sitting beside him. Her voice in his head was reassuring,

They were having nightmares and suddenly they were quiet. If they left, I don't think it was intentional.

"Nightmares...anything that might explain what happened?"

It's hard to describe. Dreams are so vague and...

She gestured wildly with her hands.

"Try. Maybe we can glean something."

After a gentle nod, she closed her eyes and invited Arthur wordlessly to follow. The images she projected flooded his mind. It was hard to parse through, Drifter's dreams or at least what Eleanor could see, were in broken fragmented bits and was like watching a movie with a CD that had been through a blender.

Being forcibly shoved to their knees. Staring up at an impossible sky swirling with green and a burning, greedy eye glowering down. Warmth bled from the green and abandoned them in pale corridors behind stories-tall windows. Arthur knew those empty halls, he just escaped them. He shared his confusion with Eleanor...perhaps she had gotten their dreams confused? She shook her head.

I suppose after sharing a bed, it's only natural to start sharing dreams.

The voice in his head had a bite of dry wit to it.

"That is...not funny, Eleanor."

She sighed.

If you really are sharing dreams, you know the rest better than I.

He relived his nightmare with Eleanor. It was comforting, as if she was there with him, trying to pull Drifter from the mire. But, it didn't matter how often they relived that dream, there were no new discoveries to be made. The only thing they could guess was that those nightmare corridors were sometime in the future and Drifter was trapped somewhere in them. Alone.

A day.

A week.

A month.

Time crawled. With each passing day the Hex grew increasingly frustrated and worried.

It was getting harder and harder for Aoi to smile. Even harder for everyone else.

The joy had been absolutely torn from Arthur and he had somehow become even more of a pain to deal with than before. Mechanically coordinating mission after mission but refusing to send anyone out unless he deemed it absolutely necessary. Planning the most minute details and becoming enraged when they strayed from the plan. Frustratingly refusing to even acknowledge that he had emotions. Aoi could see it for what it was. Fear. He was terrified of losing anyone else.

There was no way for them to reach outside of their time loop but Eleanor was trying. Reaching out to distant stars barely conscious of the present. She lay still, nearly comatose for hours at a time. Searching.

Amir was fully confident Drifter would return. Stating that this was an opportunity to perfect his Fables and Frontiers campaign before the next session. Despite what he said Aoi would occasionally catch him staring across the arcade at the Caliber Chicks 2 cabinet, Drifter's favorite, with a look that could only be described as a mix of frustration and betrayal before diving wholeheartedly back into his game.

Lettie and Quincy seemed to be on similar wavelengths. They were keen on jumpstarting the grieving process. Mourning Drifter as if they were a comrade already passed. Prepared with the reasonable expectation that any one of them could die at any time. Though Aoi could tell they dreaded a future without Drifter and all the uncertainty it brought.

Aoi was hopeful. At least trying her very best not to let the others see that she was worried too. She tried to raise moral. Fixing up one of the broken arcade cabinets for Amir. Making bullets for Quincy. Plenty of fluffy pillows for Eleanor. Hot coffee for Lettie every morning. Band-Aids for gaping wounds.

And Arthur? She didn't know how to help him. Maybe that's why she found herself snooping in the Backrooms. There was a fine layer of dust over everything. Nothing had been touched. Arthur hadn't come back here since...

Drifter's favorite Warframe still stood eerily in the arsenal, unmoving. The kavat and every other device seemed to have entered some sort of stasis without Drifter's presence. She gently tip-toed around the room. Afraid to disturb anything.

She was delighted to find Sebastian cuddled up next to roughly half a dozen stuffed Kavats and Kubrows. She picked him up gently, rearranging the floofs to maximize cuddles without their friend. She wondered if Arthur would appreciate her retrieving his stuffed bear or hate that she had invaded his space. She paced around the table staring at Sebastian, unable to decide.

Something grabbed her arm.

Aoi spun, dropping Sebastian and using her powers to wrench whatever grabbed her away. She reeled back in shock when she was met with the cracked and burning mirror of the Warframe Wisp's face suddenly come to life. It tilted it's head, seeming to inspect her before it went limp, collapsing to the ground like a discarded toy. Immediately after it fell Aoi's head felt like someone was trying to pry her brain open and cram in something.

She screamed. Holding her head, trying to stop her skull from splitting apart.

Images, moments, memories that weren't hers forcibly pierced her mind. A child that looked like Drifter. A Warframe that reminded her of Eleanor. There were more confusing visions and images that were forgotten as quickly as they were seen. Then it was over. Aoi on the floor holding her head next to Sebastian, the Warframe was slumped over, unmoving.

Arthur rushed in, Aoi was heartbroken to see the hopeful look on his face absolutely crushed by worry and anger. She tried stammering out an explanation as she picked up Sebastian and herself off the floor. Before she could form a complete sentence Lettie was at the door. Without a second thought Aoi, with extreme precision and speed, tossed Sebastian and used her power to catch him under a metal dish - hiding him before Lettie could see.

Lettie was the first to speak. Pushing past Arthur briskly and examining Aoi carefully, holding her hands.

"¿Estás herido?"

"No...no Lettie, I'm fine."

Regardless of what Aoi said Lettie continued her examination with a gentle "tsk" that was equal parts disapproval and concern. Her voice echoed the same sentiment, "Why did you scream?"

Before Aoi could answer, Arthur stepped around the table as Amir rushed into the room. After he took a fraction of a second to access there was no immediate danger was taken in by the new futuristic decor that Drifter had added that Amir hadn't got the chance to see yet. Some of it, like a model spaceship, Arthur knew had been brought over specifically because Amir would enjoy seeing it.

Arthurs attention was on the collapsed Warframe. He made a move to pick it up but Aoi held him back, "She grabbed me."

Arthur looked at her then back at the Warframe before speaking, "Do you think it was....?"

Aoi was quick to interrupt that particular thought. "Not Drifter. It was different. A kid, I think?", she looked from the collapsed Warframe to Arthur, hesitating before continuing, "I think...maybe...they wanted Eleanor"

Well, here I am.

Eleanor and Quincy were the last to arrive, with the latter having clearly roused the former from a deep trance. It didn't take long for the sniper to find a perch, watching Amir admire each moving part of the model ship and trying to figure out how it hovered. Eleanor approached Aoi and Arthur.

Let's have a look then.

Even in their heads her voice sounded tired. Arthur hesitated, reluctant to let his sister approach what had hurt Aoi. A reassuring glance from the both of them convinced him to step aside though he unsheathed his sword and fidgeted with the grip.

Eleanor cradled the Warframe's head in her lap and was surprised to find a thread of consciousness. Faint whispering. She strained to hear. Everyone else was so just so loud.

Arthur's thoughts were bleeding anxiety for Drifter, Aoi and herself. His mind raced attempting to plan for scenarios that ranged from reasonable to downright ridiculous. All of that mixed with sense of duty to the civilians of Höllvania. Anger. Guilt. A jumbled mess.

Aoi was completely focused on everyone else, trying to put a positive spin on this. Ignoring her own feelings.

Lettie was keen on making sure Aoi was unharmed and trying very hard not to think of the last time she had heard her friend scream in such pain.

Quincy thought this whole thing was pointless. At least that's what he was trying to project. Just under the surface was a deep well of concern and fear that he was fighting to ignore.

Amir was the clearest yet most fragmented. Is this what ships look like in the future? Does Drifter have a ship like this? I hope they're OK. They have to be OK, right? They have crazy future time powers and- she could feel Amir wrench himself away from that train of thought. Is that the thrusters? Would this design be able to fly in an atmosphere?

And on and on and on.

Quiet.

Voiceless confusion echoed throughout the room nearly drowning out the strand of consciousness she was barely grasping. Of couese asking for everyone to simply stop thinking was impossible.

Pick one thing and focus on that.

Arthur's focus immediately snapped to his sword. It needed cleaning and he started to methodically break down the steps of maintaining his weapon in his mind.

Aoi started to fold a metal crane and her thoughts melted away with meditative ease.

Lettie took a second to choose a rat to focus on. Her thoughts were soon filled with how cute and healthy they were, how soft their fur, bright their eyes and so on.

Quincy was interesting. He took the whole room in and with a practiced photographer's eye simplified everything into a single shot, a single thought.

Amir's mind kept racing but instead of running down his previous train of thought he was now racing to find something to focus on. The model ship was too interesting. The mannequin too creepy. Was that floof based on a actual living animal? Fascinating! Now's not the time, Amir! Foooocus.

Just pick anything, Amir.

A few more seconds and he settled on a mug. Plain. White. Mass produced. Likely from the Cafe in the food court. It nearly broke Eleanor's concentration to see Amir leaning over the balcony's railing to focus on the white mug on the table beside her. In his mind the mug had ascended like a trophy from one of his games spinning triumphantly.

As everyone's thoughts faded into a murmur around her, she followed the tether. The consciousness lead her away, past Lua and Sol. Time lost all meaning and decades dissolved into nothing as she plunged into the void.

At the end of the tether she found the operator. Standing as if they were her reflection at her feet in a featureless, dark, and mirrored plane. Eleanor had seen them often enough in Drifter's mind to recognize them. She couldn't help but to compare them to Drifter and marveled at how similar, yet different they were from their older self. The brief images of them she saw didn't prepare her for how...alien they were. Their hair was an unnatural color even the texture of their skin seemed less human than Drifter's. Their eyes had a steady glow that unnerved something primal in her. Drifter's eyes did glow, but only if the light caught them at just the right angle. Even the way the operator moved had confidence and control that was so far removed from their childish body it created dissonance in Eleanor's mind. They crouched down, an inquisitive look on their face.

"Hello Nyx."

A voice soft yet worn, in a higher timbre than Drifter's. There was a slight disconnect from the movement of their mouth to their speaking.

Eleanor.

"Hello Eleanor."

She couldn't hear the operator's thoughts, only the comforting hum of the Hex in the back of her mind.

Sword. Crane. Rat. Room. Mug.

Are you trying to help us find Drifter?

The operator looked up and Eleanor followed their gaze where she saw a huge ship, caught adrift in the void. It weighed so heavily on Drifters mind it needed no introduction to Eleanor. The dark, featureless mirror fell away and they were tumbling into the Zariman. The familiar dark halls of Arthur and Drifter's shared nightmares welcomed her. Everything seemed still and she could see Drifter, frozen in their pool of writhing shadows. The operator didn't approach.

"I can't save them from this."

Eleanor avoided shadows and just tried to touch the frozen visage of Drifter. To her suprise the squirming darkness leapt up and latched onto her dragging her in. She tried pulling away but it's hold on her was firm. Despair and doubt consumed her as the shadows crawled up her body.

"You won't survive this alone."

She wasn't alone.

Sword. Crane. Rat. Room. Mug.

The darkness swallowed her. She was back in the mirrored plane. Only this time there was no operator to serve as her reflection. Only a Warframe. Only Nyx. She felt her face only to find she no longer had one. No eyes. No mouth. Nothing. She screamed but there was no sound, even that had been stolen from her. Eleanor tried to tear this new face away to find herself beneath but there was nothing there. She was gone. There was only Nyx. She reached out with her mind in the darkness but she was alone. The only thing she could hear,

"You can't save them."

Repeated over and over in her head like a bell tolling. She struggled to think of anything else.

Sword.

Crane.

Rat.

Room.

Mug.

She reached out desperately like a drowning person grabbing hold of anyone, pulling them down with her. One by one the hex succumbed to the darkness as she flailed. Drowning with her. Suddenly, someone grabbed hold and pulled her up. It was Arthur. Crawling from the shadows, he succeeded now where he had failed with Drifter. Eleanor had never felt so relieved to see her brother's stupid face. She buried her head onto her hands taking deep breaths and reveling at the feel of her eyes, cheeks, and lips against her palms. Arthur hovered over her protectively. Drifter's writhing pit abandoned them and the rest of the Hex emerged gasping from darkness. Shaken but undeterred they gather in a protective circle around Eleanor, taking in the Zariman in all it's terrible glory.

When Eleanor looked up she saw the operator, walking backwards into darkness with a smile impossibly large, their eyes completely black. A mocking, sing-song voice called out to them,

"...not unless you know them."

Chapter Text

The first thing Amir wanted to do was explore every inch of this ship. They were in space. In the future. Even if this was just a collective hallucination brought on by Eleanor's powers, this was his jam. He jittered in place, bouncing from one leg to another trying to focus on the conversation happening in front of him and not on the giant window looking out into space right behind them.

Something, something. Arthur wanted them to be cautious. That was a given.

Theories, guesses on what happened. What to do next. Nothing conclusive could be determined.

Splitting into teams to cover more ground and gather more information. Coms didn't work so they would meet back here. Stay together. That point was made several times. Amir couldn't help but groan. Anyone else would slow him down. Arthur would determine the teams, of course. Amir hoped for Aoi, she would probably get a kick out of a high speed piggy back ride and then he wouldn't be dragged down. Maybe he could even convince Eleanor that was a good idea. By the time his thoughts circled back around to the conversation at hand Quincy was standing beside him looking mildly annoyed with the others walking away in pairs.

Quincy was unbearable, complaining about "his maj", Arthur, at every opportunity. Amir understood that he was just venting frustration at Arthur's ass stick growing three sizes in the past month, but Quincy was making exploring a freaking spaceship boring. They went down a hall, checking each room for...they didn't even know what they were looking for. Drifter clues?

This door led to a collapsed room filled rubble.

Door number two led down another dark hallway that they opted to explore later.

Door! Number! Threeeee! Overturned, unopened crates.

Four! Another room of rubble!

Amir rubbed his face and stared at the ceiling. How was it, that aboard a spaceship he got the most boring hallway with the slowest person. If this was Fables and Frontiers he would be cursing his dice.

"What the fuck?"

Amir's attention snapped to Quincy when he spoke. Less than a second later they both stood in doorway number five with matching baffled looks on their faces.

They were staring at the Höllvania Central Mall Backrooms, or at least a perfect recreation of them. They looked at each other and simply backed away from the room. Letting the automatic doors close before them. Amir was the first to speak,

"Should we...?"

"Nah fam. Maybe we go in there, turn around n' bam. Trapped."

"Any ideas about what's going on here?"

"Nah, bruv."

"Cool, cool, cool. We'll juuuuust come back to this one then."

Amir used a bit of electricity to burn a question mark on the ground in front of the door.

As they walked away they both would spare occasional glances backwards, making sure nothing emerged from the door to follow them.

Six. Storage? It was a small room, and whatever was in there must have rotted away into nothing. But the smell had somehow persisted. Diiisgusting.

Seven. Living quarters! Now this was fascinating. Amir checked out the futuristic kitchen appliances pondering what they did, while Quincy had managed to find intact portraits of the former residents. Nothing that seemed related to Drifter though.

Eight. Nine. Ten. Rubble. Flooded. Another storage room, but this one had a makeshift hammock in it. Weird.

Eleven. Living quarters, though this particular room looked absolutely ransacked. Nothing of interest had remained intact save for a mug Amir found in one of the cabinets. He grabbed it, and tossed it from one hand to another.

"You'd think drinking tech would improve in the future."

Quincy just shrugged, not amused by the observation. Amir set the mug down before leaving.

Twelve didn't open. Amir couldn't figure out how to hack the controls, even with a parazon.

They rounded a corner and went through lucky number thirteen. Which was a door wider than any other. It was partially barricaded, but Amir and Quincy had no trouble getting past. Up some stairs, and...a wide open area with the entire ceiling a window to the stars greeted them. Every surface was overgrown with green. Amir whooped triumphantly. He couldn't stop himself from running around and taking it all in. Dead trees framed the ceiling with a perfect view of the swirling void. He could even see the outside of the ship. Amir dashed up platforms and climbed structures, admiring every inch he could.

Quincy couldn't help but smile at Amir's enthusiasm as he scouted out the room at his own pace. The first thing he noticed was hammocks and makeshift beds. Out of place when they were just a few doors down from one of those dormitories. Not just a few either. He counted nearly twenty with scattered remnants of books and toys laying among the bedding. Quincy was tracing his fingers tenderly over a child's drawings on a wall when he heard a laugh. He glanced back up at Amir, who was still joyfully running about. It had come from a different direction, but maybe there was an echo or...

Then he spotted her. A little girl with her curly brown hair, all in braids peeking out from behind a dead tree. He reached for his coms instinctively, before remembering they didn't work.

"Amir!"

Quincy shout-whispered urgently, never taking his eyes off the girl. In the corner of his eye he could see a blur still moving against the windows, completely oblivious. He grit his teeth in annoyance, before taking a deep breath. He put on his best smile as he sank down to a squat, making himself as disarming as possible,

"Eyy love, nothin' to be afraid of."

Another little giggle, and she tucked herself back behind the tree again. Quincy couldn't help a little chuckle. She was 6, maybe 7. Adorable. Another laugh, this time from behind him. Before he could turn, another kid sprinted past, maybe twice the girls age. His hair was dark, cut to near militaristic standards. The little girl squealed with delight, and then darted off with the boy chasing close behind her.

Amir had finally noticed something, but his attention was not on the kids playing. He looked scared. Quincy followed his gaze to two figures looming, watching the children. His blood ran cold. They had vaguely human shape, but it was like someone scratched out their faces and pasted a horrible collage of what people were supposed to look like over it. The children ran toward the creatures gleefully. Quincy ran as fast as he could to the girl, and Amir was by the boy in a second. He caught her, but she passed right through his arms, as if she were made of light, and straight toward the figures. He watched in horror, then confusion as the figure gently scooped up and placed the girl on their shoulders. They walked off together, with the boy holding hands with the other figure. Amir attempted to follow them, but they walked straight through a caved-in doorway.

Quincy sank down onto the ground holding his head, and Amir flopped down next to him staring up at the stars. They spent the next few minutes in silence, until Quincy broke it.

"This is gettin' too weird for me, bruv."

"Oh, yeah. This goes beyond weird space shit. We're in the weird head shit now."

Amir sat up, idly tearing up a leaf into little bits while talking, "How much did Drifter talk to you about," he gestured around and bits of leaf trailed his movement like confetti, "all this."

Quincy looked a little guilty before replying, "Not much. Most I got out of them were 'bout frames. A little 'bout Duviri. You?"

"Ah...um," Amir turned a little red, "Mostly robots...probably all about robots."

Suddenly, they heard laughing again. Amir and Quincy shot to their feet. The kids were back replaying the same scene, as if they were on a rewound tape. The two figures ominously loomed over the whole scene.

As Quincy watched one of the kids run past he spoke again, "I tried to get Space Trauma to talk but they just..."

"Evaded the topic until you weren't sure what you wanted to talk to them about?"

"Yeah. Knew it was bad, but this..." his eyes darted to the makeshift beds.

"Well, this is what happens when you bottle it up for so long! All your friends get sucked into your trauma with you. We are just so darn lucky that it's happening literally."

That forced a chuckle from Quincy. Amir watched the kids as they ran around before speaking again,

"Sooo... what do you think, which one of these adorable little guys is Drifter?"

Quincy did a double take, he hadn't noticed, hadn't even gotten a chance to get a good look at the kids' faces until now. Amir wasn't wrong, either one of them could be a young Drifter.

Arthur had chosen to pair off with Aoi. Maybe because he wanted Lettie to look after Eleanor, or because a part of him wanted to find a moment to talk to Aoi about why she was in the Backrooms with Sebastian. For whatever reason, he was regretting that decision now. Things got awkward immediately after they parted from the group. They walked in complete silence. Every time they got close to each other they would immediately reel back with murmured apologies.

Room after room of nothing. No clues about the drifter, or really any hints on a way forward. They passed golden statues and moldering portraits of people who must be prominent figures of the future without comment. Overturned tables and barricaded doors made the whole ship look like an abandoned war zone. Arthur gripped the hilt of his sword tightly.

His tension didn't escape Aoi's notice as she followed him. "Arthur," she said gently only to watch him somehow get even more tense. She took a deep breath, "I just wanted to say sorry for-"

Arthur cut her off, suddenly unprepared for this conversation, "Don't apologize it wasn't my room. Drifter let everyone back there."

"You shared it with them, and I was there with Sebastian."

Aoi could see the tips of his ears flush red, but she continued,

"I know returning to that room was painful for you so I-"

"So you what?!" Arthur snapped, face flushed with embarrassment, "Thought Sebastian would wave his arms and make everything better?" He wheeled around to face her, "Or maybe you thought a stuffed bear would somehow replace Drifter?"

Aoi couldn't help but raise her voice to match, hurt by the implication that she was stupid, "I thought it would help to have something to talk to. Sol knows you weren't talking to anyone else." She couldn't stop herself, seeing Arthur act this way was reopening old wounds, "I thought you had changed, being with Drifter. Are you like this with them? Assuming the worst at every opportunity? Gods Arthur, what terrible people we are in your mind."

Before she cut any deeper Aoi charged forward and walked down the hall to cool off. Arthur stood back, cheeks flushed and jaw clenched. The grip on his sword tightened until his knuckles crackled.

They went through the ship as separately as possible after that. Searching entirely different rooms from each other and barely remaining within earshot. After what felt like hours of fruitless searching in silence, Aoi stopped to admire what was left of some dead flowers overlooking the swirling void. Arthur, to avoid getting close to her, peeked into a window opposite from where she stood. Inside there was a small, dark kitchen. Appliances and trays scattered haphazardly around. He thought he could see food cubes among the clutter. Curious, he stepped toward the door and it opened before him.

Instead of the dark, empty kitchen he expected, he was immediately confronted by warm light, the clatter of dishes, and people. Kids sitting at a table with an adult working at the counter behind them. Completely caught off guard and flustered, Arthur immediately apologized for the intrusion while darting out of the room. It was only after he stared at the closed door for a full minute that he second guessed his actions. He failed to play off his embarrassment, and stood by awkwardly as Aoi pushed past him.

Aoi boldly walked into the room, with Arthur behind her. The people inside didn't seem to notice or care about their intrusion. Aoi greeted them with all the cheeriness she could muster,

"Hello!"

No response. She approached the table and waved her hand in front of the kid's faces with no reaction. Then she reached out to touch one of them. Her hand slipped right through their shoulder and hit the chair they were sitting on. "Okay," Aoi said thoughtfully, "So it's like a hologram or a memory.... Not something we can effect."

Arthur sighed, then left the doorway to stand beside her. Just a few food cubes had been divided between the two plates in front of the kids. He appreciated that even in the future, with it's strange cubed food and advanced technology, some cooking was still done. The cubes had been rehydrated, and either steamed or seared. Some had been carefully cut in half...it looked like too small of a portion, especially for growing kids. He frowned and looked from one child to the other.

One was a little girl, who's parents clearly loved doing her hair up in intricate braids. The other was a boy on the cusp of adolescence. His hair also pleated into a braid though the undercut gave it a tidy, uniform appearance. His heart gave out when he saw that they both looked like Drifter and they both looked a little gaunt. Boy Drifter was tense, his fist was curled on the table and he looked angrily at his plate, chewing his lower lip. Girl Drifter was scared. She kept glancimg from her brother to the adult in the room. A moment passed and the adult left without speaking or turning around. They didn't join them in the meal.

"...I'm not hungry. You eat it."

Arthur and Aoi both jumped when Boy spoke. He made a move to dump the contents of his plate onto his sister's when she slammed her fist onto the table.

"I'm seven, not stupid."

Girl frowned at her plate, refusing to make to make eye contact with her brother as she ate her scarce meal in just a few bites. Her brother looked equal parts ashamed and angry as he did the same. They had a few minutes of quiet as the two stared at their scraped clean plates.

Then the shouting started. It came from the next room. Nothing intelligible could be made out, but no words were needed for the sheer anger to bleed into the room. The little girl curled in on herself, covering her ears with her hands. Boy leapt up and said very loudly,

"Let's read a book!"

He darted to the shelf, grabbed a large story book and a small doll before guiding his sister to a bench by the window, in the corner furthest from the door. Boy made his voice as loud as possible to try to drown out the screaming. He did funny voices and used the doll to act out parts. Reading until his voice cracked and his little sister started to smile.

Arthur looked on in horror. This was the Tales of Duviri. The terrible irony of reading a book about controlling your emotions while the room bled with wrath did not escape Arthur. A sick feeling started to grow in the pit of his stomach. He crouched down to their level, staring at the brother and knew the kid wasn't just reading for his sister's sake. Arthur buried his head in his hands listening to the story for the first time.

Aoi stepped behind Arthur, placing a hand on his shoulder. She saw the little girl's smile for what it was. Not happiness, but an effort to placate her brother's misery.

The light started to fade from the room until Arthur and Aoi were left alone in the abandoned kitchen bathed in the pale ghoulish light of the void.

Chapter Text

Eleanor walked a few steps behind Lettie through dark corridors, passing windows of void light that twisted their shadows into creatures. She could hear the other's thoughts, but it was like they were echoing across a deep chasm. Distorted and soft. Even Lettie's inner voice was distant in the same way, and she was right in front of her. It was jarring after so long to be alone in her mind. This was the most vulnerable and defenseless she had felt in a long time.

Then there was the ever present song. Beckoning. Hungry. Water dribbling from the jagged broken ceiling made it feel like she was stepping into the gaping maw of a ravenous beast. She shivered and wrapped her arms around her while keeping an eye on her surroundings, nearly running into Lettie when she stopped.

Lettie?

There was no answer and for a terrifying second Eleanor considered being completely stripped of her powers. Voiceless. Ripping out her tongue just to talk.

"Eschua. Do you hear that?"

Lettie's voice was strained and quiet. Eleanor had been so lost in her own thoughts she hadn't heard anything. Through the trickle of water and haunting song they heard the pitter-patter of small footfalls.

The shadows writhed and began to take shape. Silent screaming faces. Children with their small hands reaching out. Lettie reached her hand back toward Eleanor who was quick to grab hold of her arm. They backed slowly away from the shadows. Preparing to run. Then like the sounding of a very small war horn was the vicious squeaking of a rat.

"Tlaloc!"

The worry in Lettie's voice was palpable. She reached her hand down, beckoning the rat to flee into the safety of her arms. Tlaloc did not flee. He leapt. Squeaking angrily and snapping his teeth at the shadows. Somehow, Tlaloc succeeded in driving them back. When the shadows were still, and there was no danger left to face, he strutted back. Head held high and whiskers bristling with earned confidence. He allowed himself to be picked up by an astonished Lettie.

Eleanor and Lettie stared at Tlaloc. A minute ago he didn't exist. Lettie had come to the Zariman alone, with only the gear on her back. Now her rat scurried up her arm and perched on her shoulder like a conquering hero on a pedestal. Eleanor reached out with her mind, trying to find Tlaloc's presence but there was only Lettie. Perhaps it was because everyone's thoughts had been reduced to a mere echo in her mind or because animals were always a challenging read. Or both. Or perhaps the rat didn't exist at all. It looked like a rat, moved like a rat, and sounded like a rat. Something about Tlaloc bothered Eleanor, but she couldn't quite figure it out.

With apprehension Lettie and Eleanor continued on. The ship grew darker and colder with each step they took. The pale halls were marred with curved silver scars. Most of the doors were impassable, blocked off by makeshift barricades of boxes and tables, jittering, broken, or sealed closed by a silver growth fusing materials into one.

They turned a corner into an impossibly long hall with nothing but void at the end of it and two figures, dark silhouettes against the light. A parent and a child. Eleanor reached out with her mind only to open herself to a cacophony of madness. She heard the screaming and wailing of thousands of men, women, and children. Felt their fear, confusion, and pain. A beautiful song harmonized with the sound of agony, pleading her to surrender herself to it. As she clutched her head, she looked up to see the parent and child turn, eyes burning white.

"There's something out there, Kiddo, watching us."

A man's voice repeating in her head, like a broken record distorted, and each repeat was a different modulation. With each repeat, an eye appeared in the void light. Pitch black and empty. Seeing all she was, and finding her lacking. The voice pealed over and over, until there was nothing but darkness left.

The child grinned, it's white teeth seemed to stretch beyond the confines of its head. Their terrible laughter gnawed at her psyche, threating to consume what was left of her. She screamed. Lettie grabbed hold of her shoulders, twisting her around, forcing her to look away.

"Mija! Mirame! Snap out if it!"

Leticia brought her back into the light and back to the hall where they had entered. They were alone. Eleanor screamed out her fear and anxiety before laughing a little in sheer relief, ignoring the concerned and frightened look Lettie gave her.

After Eleanor took a minute to gather herself, they continued down the long hall, past the enormous window to the void. They instinctively walked closer together. Maybe for the illusion of warmth or safety. They reached a dead end and decided to head back to the others before anything else happened. As they returned to the long hall, something familiar brushed up against Eleanor's consciousness.

Drifter?

She looked around, and saw a shadow dart down the hall. Caution from her previous encounter in the room kept her mind sheltered, and instead she ran after them. It took Lettie a second to follow behind. Down halls full of stuttering doors and barricaded passages they ran. Eleanor barely kept up with them down twisting passages as the shadow fled. She could feel nothing but fear from them.

Wait! It's me! It's ok!

They didn't stop. Her words only made the fear well up like a gushing wound. It was a crescendo. Betrayal. Fear. Doubt. Building to overwhelming depths until Eleanor couldn't separate her emotions from the shadows'. They kept running until Eleanor had backed them into a corner. Like any cornered animal, they attacked. A dark mass shot towards Eleanor's face that she just barely dodged. By the time her eyes had cleared, the shadow and Drifter's presence were gone.

Suddenly, too tired to stand, she sank to the floor where Lettie found her a second later.

"ELEANOR!"

Eleanor tried to turn to look at her, but pain ran their claws down her neck to her shoulder. She looked down and found her shoulder and arm torn to shreds. Like a wild animal's desperate clawing except neat and clean, as if her flesh were mere putty someone had taken a knife to. When she was still it didn't hurt. She kept staring in shock. Lettie seemed to move in slow motion, as she raised her hand to gather energy in her palm. As the energy dispersed into the air Eleanor's wounds healed before her eyes as if they had never been inflicted.

Eleanor and Lettie were the first of the Hex to return to the corridor where they had started. They sat on the most comfortable looking chunks of rubble in silence, digesting everything that they had experienced. Though completely unaware of the action, Eleanor kept rubbing her shoulder. Lettie's eyes were on Tlaloc as he scurried around her feet, sniffing the ground.

Arthur and Aoi arrived next, looking utterly defeated. They walked separately from each other. Arthur wordlessly made a beeline for Eleanor and sat close to her. Eleanor immediately closed the distance to rest her head on his shoulder. She ever so gently probed his mind and he let her wander into his recent memories of the two young Drifters, though he deliberately tried to keep the events that came before that moment hidden.

Quincy and Amir were the last to arrive. They were relaxed and walking leisurely toward the group. Amir was even smiling, still basking in the excitement of experiencing a spaceship. The smile was quickly drawn from his face when he saw everyone else's dour expressions.

"Did someone die?"

Amir's attempt at lightening the mood was met with Eleanor's dark humor.

Oh, just a few million people.

He grimaced and moved toward Aoi, who was still looking a little raw as she experimentally tested her powers on bits of metallic rubble. Quincy leaned against a wall, rubbing his eyes.

"Lets debrief."

Arthur's voice came out in a gravely croak, he didn't move from his position as Eleanor's pillar. He was met with silence, not out of non-compliance, but out of an inability to describe what they had seen. Amir, Quincy and Lettie at various times open their mouths to speak only to close them again in contemplation.

How about I speed this up.

Eleanor opened herself as a conduit, allowing the others to share their experiences. Amir and Quincy were first. Perhaps because Eleanor needed a little brevity. She was charmed to see the young Drifter and their sibling playing. Not even she knew which was which, as Drifter kept their memories buried deep. The image of the creatures with the collage of faces lingered. Eleanor was the first to inquire,

Parents?

Amir spoke up next, tapping his heel against the rubble he was leaning against, "Makes sense, based on how they acted, but why would they look like that?"

"We all know Space Trauma was salted. Maybe..." Quincy trailed off.

"...that's how they remember them." Aoi finished the thought quietly as she worked on making some of the ship's metal into a crane. The expression on her face was unreadable. She took a deep breath, focusing on the crane as she offered up her discoveries to the Hex.

Aoi and Arthur couldn't quite manage to hide that they had an argument, but at least managed to glaze over the details of it. Their version of the Drifter and their sibling-hungry, huddled in a corner, and distracting each other from their parents' screaming- immediately crushed the Hex.

A dour silence choked them as Eleanor felt a cascade of their emotions wash over her. Sorrow, protectiveness, and anger. It startled Eleanor to discover Amir as the source of most of this anger.

"What the hell."

He kicked off of the rubble he was leaning on and started pacing, hands trembling, "This is the future? Right? Why...why were they hungry? Wouldn't they have enough food!?"

Eleanor knew the answer to that. The Orokin. From surface thoughts, she was surprised to discover only a few of the others knew. The Drifter kept things close to the chest, indeed.

Quincy stepped toward Amir, "No difference in the now either. Lotta resources to go around, but only money gets a say in where it goes."

"Is that supposed to make me feel better?!"

It will only get worse from here.

Eleanor's words had a little more bite than she intended. Perhaps because some part of her was jealous of Amir's literal walk in a park. Before Amir could reply, Arthur made a valiant attempt to defuse the situation, "Amir, go take a moment to cool off."

A command. Amir's lip briefly curled in annoyance, but he raised his hands in surrender. "No. NO. I'll be calm about this," then a little quieter, "I want to help."

He returned to Aoi's side. She looked sympathetic, and offered him a finished metal crane. He took it, and almost begrudgingly started to fiddle with it.

Let's get this over with.

Eleanor was tired, and she could feel a migraine on its way. She closed her eyes, and connected her thoughts with Lettie's. Gently directing both of them back to their shadowed halls of the Zariman. She was surprised to see Lettie's version of events lacking.

They both witnessed the shadows coming alive and Tlaloc. Everything following was more pleasant than Eleanor's experience. While Lettie did see the silhouettes of the father and child, she did not see the eyes of darkness. The chase through the halls carried none of the fear and desperation that Elanor felt.

The others got a disjointed and confusing series of events as Eleanor struggled to make the two coalesce. When it ended with the shadowy Drifter's attack, Arthur immediately shifted. He held Eleanor, carefully examining her shoulder while maintaining how she leaned against him. His emotions were a confusing jumble, and his voice reflected that,

"Was that Drifter? They hurt you?"

Eleanor shifted to look her brother in the eye.

They were terrified. It was them...but it felt... incomplete.

Arthur lowered his head onto his hands, attempting to make sense of everything. With a sigh, Aoi stepped forward, demanding the attention of the Hex to give Arthur a moment,

"Let's evaluate. What do we know?"

Amir didn't hesitate to speak up, "We're in a freaky mind ship where Drifter is maybe trapped."

Quincy spoke next, "Seeing little Drifters, some memories 'n shadows..."

"They can hurt," Lettie added.

Aoi took a minute to think, before she gasped excitedly,

"What if our emotions are influencing the kind of visions we see?"

"Yeah...yeah! Quincy and I were pretty chill, so we got something kind of fun. You and Arthur fought, and you saw a fight! Aaaand Eleanor with Lettie..." Amir spared a glance at Eleanor, who shrugged, before he continued, "It's a solid theory!"

Aoi was getting more excited, "If we go out there and think positive thoughts, we could bring more happy memories up. Maybe we'll even get to Drifter that way."

"Oh man, Aoi, we'd make the best team! Happy thoughts all the way!"

"Yeah!" They high-fived, before turning to the rest of the Hex, who were in various states of despair. The four remaining members looked at each other in growing amounts of hopelessness. Struggling to imagine searching a derelict ghost ship and managing to stay positive without Amir or Aoi. Quincy made an exaggerated face, somewhere between a grimace and a grin,

"Rest of us are fucked then?"

Aoi backpedaled, "Ok, so maybe not just Amir and me. Maybe we all go together"

Eleanor shook her head,

These memories seem to be tied to locations, not just emotion. We'll cover more ground in smaller groups.

Aoi couldn't help but sigh with a little frustration. She thought for a moment before going around the room, "Ok, then back to plan A. Uhhh... Arthur and Amir. Quincy and Lettie. And Eleanor with me."

They all expressed various degrees of enthusiasm. Except Amir, who kicked a bit of loose rubble in frustration. After taking another minute to rest, they split off with their new partners.

Aoi called out as they departed in different directions,

"Remember! Think happy thoughts!"

Chapter Text

Happy thoughts. It immediately took Arthur back to a school performance of Petre Pan he had once participated in. He wasn't the title character, but a Lost Lad. Arthur couldn't remember his lines now, but he did remember how nervous he'd been. Opening night he screamed his lines so loudly it made Eleanor laugh. Which was unfortunate, because she was Windy, and supposed to be unconscious. Then every performance after that, it didn't matter how he delivered the line, she couldn't help a giggle.

It was a pretty happy memory. He tried to focus on that, and actually cracked a smile. Amir immediately noticed,

"So now that you're in a good mood...how do you feel about piggy back rides?"

Happy thoughts gone. "No."

"Aw, come on! We'd go so much faster."

"No."

"How about if I made Atomicycle noises?"

Arthur smiled, but didn't justify that with a response. He sighed, looked up ahead at the long dark hall before them, and made a concession. With short upward nod toward Amir, he started a jog. Amir immediately read his silent signal, did a little skip, and clapped his hands. The action seemed to help him summon electricity, and it began arcing from the ground, brushing against them both. It crackled up their bodies until every muscle was tense with a desire to go faster. They ran together down the halls, moving past empty corridors and doors in a blur, leaping over rubble and railings. Amir couldn't help laughing as they tore down the halls as fast as they could go.

Arthur wanted to pierce as far into the Zariman as they could right now. A meticulous search could wait for the return journey. They ran until speed faded. At the base of a giant golden statue of the Zariman with three figures that looked poised to take flight before it, they stopped to catch their breath. This seemed to be a hub or a crossroads of sort. Amir marked the hall they had come from by burning a smiley face onto the ground.

They were faced with a choice. Go forward, or turn back and start searching the halls they came from. Arthur knew what Amir's answer would be. Forward. Keep pushing until they could go no further. He stared at the golden model of the Zariman, then back down the hall.

He knew Amir could run without stopping for miles. The Zariman was not a small ship. If this was supposed to be Drifter's nightmare it was extraordinarily detailed for something so huge. Maybe they were on the real thing. He partially unsheathed his sword and gently slid a finger across the blade. It hurt. He bled. With one fluid motion he unsheathed his blade fully, swung his sword up, sliced a hand off of one of the golden statues, and sheathed his weapon again. He caught the hand as it fell. It seemed solid enough and the interior was how he might expect it. The gold was layered on top of what appeared to be the same material that made up the walls.

"Testing something?" Amir peered over Arthur's shoulders at the statues hand.

"Not particularly. Just wondering how real everything is." Drifter's words echoed in his own. A chill skittered across his skin as he remembered Drifter's placid smile as they sank in the writhing shadows.

Amir looked at Arthur a little cautiously for a moment, before visibly tossing that caution to the wind and speaking,

"How much did Drifter talk to you about all this?"

Maybe it was because Amir's question was so sudden or because he was unprepared, but Arthur couldn't remember talking to them about the Zariman at all, "I...they..."

They talked about Duviri quite a bit. A little too much for Arthur's comfort. Despite that he struggled to recall a single conversation they had about the Zariman. All the information he could think of was second-hand from Eleanor. Amir looked alarmed and spoke in a shocked, low whisper,

"Not even you?"

"Drifter....Drifter didn't like..."

He struggled to find words. When suddenly a painfully familiar voice echoed down the hall.

"Arthur!"

The both turned to see Drifter was running down the hall toward them. They were distraught. Arthur froze, unable to process the sudden flood of emotions from seeing them. Amir threw his hands into air with a gleeful laugh that came out more like a yelp,

"It worked?!"

This was too convenient, too good. Despite his better judgment, despite everything, Arthur opened his arms, prepared to pull Drifter into a hug. They slipped through his outstretched arms. It didn't even feel like anything. Arthur found himself wishing it did. That there was something real he could latch onto. Arthur sucked in a breath, steeling himself against the wave of disappointment that came plummeting down on him. He took a moment to gather himself before turning to face Amir, who put on very convincing act that he had been too distracted to see anything.

The memory or whatever it was of Drifter was kneeling by the statues, running their hands along the floor, muttering to themselves. Arthur kneeled next to them, eyes locked on their face, and listened carefully.

"They're safe right? If they aren't here they're safe. They're safe."

It was a mantra they kept repeating to themselves. Arthur reached out and watched his fingers disappear into Drifter's face. They looked just how they did when they fell asleep beside him a month ago. Their long hair was loose and they were barefoot as if they had just crawled out of bed. It was comforting to see them again, to be close even just in memory. Arthur stayed kneeling, even when Drifter rose, and circled before the statue. They examined the ground and the surrounding area carefully. Drifter lingered for quite some time, almost as if they were hoping something would happen, then they wrapped their arms around themselves and headed back the way they came. It was slightly adjacent from the hall marked with the smiley face. Arthur and Amir followed Drifter.

They walked down the hall together. Drifter was talking to themselves, trying to keep themselves calm. They kept reassuring themselves that the Hex were ok. Neither of them had ever seen Drifter like this. It made Amir in particular extremely uncomfortable. It was like he kept stumbling into a private moment between Arthur and Drifter. He wanted nothing more than to run down the other hall, but he couldn't just leave Arthur.

Drifter stopped, and examined a seemingly random spot along the way. Amir jumped when the Drifter said his name while they reassured themselves that he was ok. He could slow it down. Breath. He had a parazon. This was familiar to Amir, but he couldn't quite place it. Amir summoned his parazon, turning it around in his hand. As he examined the blade he recalled when he had first summoned it. Slowly began to dawn on him that maybe this was how Drifter experienced the reactor incident. He found himself on a deep and troubled train of thought. Arthur didn't notice when he lagged behind.

Further down the hall Drifter hesitated again in front of a window. They stared at the floor. Aoi was strong enough. Clever enough. She could do this.

They came to an overpass and Drifter called Quincy's name so desperately Arthur absolutely expected Quincy to peer over the edge. There was no one there. He blinked and Drifter had vanished, reappearing on the bridge with a stumble. Drifter had once confided in Arthur that they struggled with harnessing their void powers but that stumble didn't feel like a misaimed void sling. It took some effort for Arthur to climb up in pursuit only to witness the Drifter follow the same pattern as before. Walk in a circle. Reassure the empty space that Quincy would survive before moving on. At least jumping down was easier.

They walked on. Drifter started to move slowly, stumbling more often. They kept running their hands through their hair as their muttering got less and less intelligible. They made a loop for Lettie, and another for Eleanor. They would be fine. They were safe.

Drifter's breathing became unsteady. They stopped, stared at their hands clenching and unclenching before screaming in wordless fury. They started explicity cursing Albrecht. Taunting him or anyone else to face them. There was no reply to the Drifter's challenge, only a cold echo from the Zariman in mocking response.

Silence.

At first Arthur had the faint hope that this memory was over but he saw the faint rise and fall of the Drifter's chest. They stared ahead vacantly. Slowly Drifter started to move and looked around with dawning horror at the empty ship.

"No...no...it was real. It was real."

They stumbled forward. Arthur could see shadows leap up from each footstep as they pressed forward. They kept walking until they tripped over themselves, instead of standing back up they stayed on their hands and knees, letting the darkness crawl over them. It was hell for Arthur to see Drifter allow themselves to be consumed by the darkness. To give in without a fight. Arthur sank to his knees before the darkness. Watching them drown themselves and knowing there was nothing he could do to save them. Frustration blurred his eyes with tears. Through the haziness he thought he saw something emerge from the darkness. By the time he had wiped away his tears the hall was empty and he was alone.

Arthur closed his eyes, taking deep breaths trying to reign in his emotions. It was quiet.

Quiet.

He was alone.

"Amir!"

Of all the places to be the Zariman was not the worst place to suffer a migraine. Bright lights aboard the Zariman were few and far between. Though there was a vauge earthy and damp scent in every room it was relatively mild. It was quiet as well, save for the song.

The song was everywhere. Filling what little the migraine had left of her head with music. At least it had the courtesy not to be a high pitched whine. It was difficult to focus on anything else.

Aoi noticed Eleanor stopping every so often to clutch her head. She matched her pace with Eleanor's stopping every few minutes to check on her. They weren't getting very far. A few rooms down they found a dormitory and a bed where Eleanor could rest. Aoi folded metal over the few lights in the room. They both winced when the metal squealed as it bent. But when Aoi was finished the room was dark and quiet. She knelt by Eleanor and whispered,

"How can I help?"

This is enough. Thank you. I just wish the singing would stop.

"Singing?"

Aoi tilted her head, listening intently. The only thing she could hear was creaking and the drip of water from the damaged ship. There wasn't any singing.

You don't hear it?

Aoi shook her head. Eleanor sighed and placed her arm over her eyes.

Isn't this surprising.

Aoi could hear the dry sarcasm even in her thoughts.

"I can't stop the singing, but maybe I can drown it out?"

Worth a try.

After a slight shift Aoi sat crossed-legged on the floor and started to quietly sing. The first thing to come to mind was something from On-Lyne. She wasn't the best singer especially since she was forcing her voice to sing in a pitch that would be comfortable for Eleanor but it seemed to help. When Aoi paused to catch her breath she heard something distant. A song. As if a reply to hers. Her breath caught in her chest and she listened carefully. Eleanor heard it too and rose from the bed. Aoi whispered urgently,

"Is that the singing you hear?"

No.

They glanced at each other before hurrying out of the room out into the hall. They paused for just a moment to get a feel for where the song was coming from. During that second of hesitation a figure emerged from the darkness. Eyes caught the dim void light and reflected it back unblinking red. The steady unceasing gaze was unimpeaded by the stringy hair covering their face. They lurched forward. Stepping confidently on rubble strewn ground on a practiced and well known path. Their bare feet left bloody prints behind that disappeared by the next step.

"Drifter?"

Aoi's voice trembled with uncertainty, she couldn't quite believe that this was her friend. Not just because they looked particularly terrifying in this moment but because they looked so neglected. Perhaps it was the knowledge that Drifter wasn't really there and somewhere beyond physicality that really made it feel like she was standing before a ghost. Not just any ghost but one of a dear friend. Her heart bled with grief, and she offered a silent prayer to Lua that they were still alive somewhere. Reluctant to get closer, she shot a desperate look over at Eleanor, who was focused on Drifter intently. The only thoughts this spectre had were those of clawing desperation. Incomplete, just as the fear she had chased had been.

It's a piece of them. A fragment.

The song Drifter sang was an opera. Beautiful in it's sorrow. It was clear they were practiced. Trained. Their voice brushed against high notes and dipped into low with ease. It confused Aoi to no end that this was the first time that she heard them sing. They listened to music together, she had danced with them. She had sung to them but never with them. Despite everything, her grief and worry, she still felt a small sting. Aoi would have loved to share this with them.

The song ended, and Drifter stood still for a moment in the quiet. They slowly raised their hands to cover their ears. Their eyes were still intently focused ahead, but they grit their teeth in obvious pain. A moment passed. They gathered themselves, breathing deep before starting to sing anew, this time in fury. Eleanor felt dread as she saw spirals of metallic void creep onto the drifter's face. Drifter heard the song too, and like Aoi, they were trying to drown it out with their own song. They were failing.

They watched Drifter walk away, intending to follow when they saw what looked like an afterimage. It was something ethereal with too many glowing eyes to count, and gnashing fanged maws burning with hellfire. It began to solidify until the Warframe Voruna stood before them.

Aoi cautiously approached her. Though Drifter didn't often use Voruna, Aoi had fought alongside her before. There was a moment of stillness before Voruna and her wolves howled and lunged toward Aoi. She dodged as the snarling mouths snapped at the air where her neck was just a moment ago. Eleanor acted quickly, and threw Voruna off balance striking her with a psychic bolt giving Aoi enough time to get away.

"What should we do? Are we gonna hurt Drifter if we hurt Voruna?!"

I don't know.

Eleanor could feel the same wisp of desperation from Voruna as she did from the spectre of Drifter. She reached out with the intent to control but there wasn't enough of a mind present to latched onto. Voruna must have felt the intrusion, and her many eyes locked onto Eleanor before she played Drifter's favorite trick. She vanished. It was not fun being on the receiving end.

Eleanor and Aoi immediately spun to stand back to back, listening carefully for the growl of wolves. It didn't take long for vicious fangs to reappear as they lunged for Eleanor, Aoi sent a cascade of metal shards toward Voruna like a shotgun blast. Most of the metal grazed her but some tore right through her. It knocked her off balance. Eleanor could feel Drifter's desperation spark and grow as if they were feeding it.

Stop! This feels wrong.

"Just run then?"

Just run!

They ran. The snarl of wolves pursued them. As soon as they turned a corner, they ducked into the first room they saw, missing the question mark burned into the floor in front of it.

The Backrooms of the mall enveloped them in soft, warm light. They both froze in shock. Aoi turned to Eleanor, her voice a strangled whisper,

"Did...did we wake up?"

It took Eleanor a moment to wade through the torrent of recent experiences to find Amir and Quincy's memory of this discovery. She grounded herself in this new and strange reality with the fact that she couldn't hear the voices of Höllvania, only the dull murmur of the Hex.

No. This is still the Zariman.

"Whats going on?"

The only answer Eleanor had was a shrug. After a few tense moments of expecting Voruna to hunt them down had passed, they started to relax. Aoi walked over to the metal dish where she had stashed Sebastian, and picked it up. There wasn't anything but bare table underneath. She spun the dish in her hand, considering the implications of the missing bear, before attempting to fold the dish into a crane. The metal was as unyielding as stone, much to Aoi's surprise. It was particularly unnerving because she was absolutely sure her powers had worked on this particular dish before. She didn't know what to make out of any of this. It felt like she was gathering pieces of different puzzles and trying to fit them together. It felt like failure.

She was ready to admit her idea was nothing more than a hopeful fantasy. There was nothing happy about that spectre and she felt no closer to getting Drifter back. Eleanor was there to refute that particular thought.

That vision is the most recent one we've seen. Now we know Drifter can manifest Warframes and that they were at least well enough to walk and sing not so long ago. I don't know what progress looks like, but anything we learn is a win.

Aoi took a deep breath, making a mental adjustment and forcing herself toward more positive thoughts. Her concern for Eleanor didn't actually give her a chance to focus on happiness earlier. She closed her eyes, then took a moment to find a joyful memory. Almost immediately after the thought solidified in her mind, laughter trickled down from the loft. Eleanor and Aoi spared a quick glance at each other and nodded. They slowly crept up the stairs together. Aoi stared in shock when she saw herself sitting with Drifter. It was bizarre seeing herself, she could only imagine that this was what an out of body experience felt like.

Her happy memory had been plucked from her head and put on display. It had been sometime in the last loop, close to the start of their third year together. Aoi was braiding Drifter's hair.

"Thinking about getting a haircut? You'd look nice with a fresh look."

Drifter smiled, "I was but...I think I'll keep it. The loops don't seem to effect it so it's like I'm keeping track of our progress."

Aoi laughed a little, "Progress? In a loop?"

"Yeah! Progress. Every year we learn a little more. Get a little more powerful. Save more lives. Each loop I feel like we get a little closer to freedom."

Aoi tied off the braid and Drifter dramatically held it out. It extended the full length of their arm. They smiled.

"I'm keeping excellent score."

The memory dissolved away.

So...we can make the spectres too. Interesting.

"Anything we learn is a win, right?"

Chapter Text

The ship was cold and damp. It also creaked and shifted in ways that made each step feel like a gamble for their lives. It didn't bode well for Babas. Lettie was prepared for the worst. Every room could have a cold, unmoving Drifter within, brought home by La Flaca long before they arrived. Though it brought her a little comfort to consider that they might be experiencing Drifter's death with them. A lifetime of memories passing before them as their friend faded away.

"Happy thoughts", Aoi had said before sending Lettie and Quincy off together. Two people who couldn't find happiness if it bit them in the ass. Lettie might have thought Aoi was having a little laugh at their expense, but she could see her reasoning with the others. Arthur and Eleanor were the ones who needed the most support right now. Lettie and Quincy could manage.

Quincy walked with purpose, he had chosen the same corridor that Aoi and Amir had taken earlier. Before they had parted from the others he explained his plan to revisit the site of an earlier memory instead of trying to find a new location. The dormitory where Drifter must have once lived seemed like the most logical location. His stride was purposeful but ocasionally he hesitated and glanced back at Lettie. The first time it happened Lettie thought nothing of it but soon it was clear he wanted to tell her something he was reluctant to. Amused by his hesitation she considered the possibilities.

A fond memory they shared perhaps? To bring about some of Aoi's "happy thoughts". They shared quite a few, some more exciting than others. She considered some of them. Shared victories and celebrations. Maybe the time they all sang karaoke together?

The next time he looked back she snapped at him in mock sterness with a smile playing at her lips,

"Come on then, out with it cabrón!"

Quincy sighed, stopped, and rubbed his eyes. Lettie had expected something more playful in return. Something was wrong. She frowned, rounding on him in concern. Only when cornered did he speak with quiet apprehension,

"Lettie. Take a look at my eyes?"

That was the last thing a medic wanted to hear from a sniper. A photographer. Lettie fumbled for her penlight and examined his eyes thoroughly. There wasn't anything wrong that she could see. They weren't even red. That didn't ease her worry. The eyes were such a delicate organ, and she was no ophthalmologist. Lettie spoke with ferocity,

"Whats wrong."

It wasn't a question. It was an order. Quincy complied,

"They burn n' now everything's blurry."

At a loss for what else to do, Lettie used a bit of her energy, concentrating it in her palm before focusing it on Quincy. The healing pulse washed over him. After giving Quincy a moment to blink and look around, Lettie examined his eyes again,

"Better?"

"No."

This is why Quincy had been reluctant to tell Lettie anything. It served no purpose for them both to be worried over something they couldn't help. Who the hell gets fucking eye strain in a dream anyway? Quincy brushed her penlight aside as gently as he could muster before continuing down the hall. It was better to focus on more pressing matters, like finding Drifter.

Quincy was well aware that he and Drifter weren't particularly close. It wasn't that they hated each other. Drifter just didn't appreciate his transactional approach to relationships. They were the kind of person who would give away the clothes off their back and food from their mouth for absolutely nothing. Conversely, that was what annoyed Quincy the most about Drifter. You couldn't do business with someone who gave everything away for free.

It didn't mean he didn't care about Drifter. It was hard not to care about someone who'd die for you. He just cared more about what would happen to all of them without Drifter. Their absence meant the speedy progression of the infestation. The eventual death of the Hex's humanity. Not to mention the deaths of untold civilians without their help. Hell, without them the Hex might not be able to stop the reactor from popping off.

That fear ate away at him. It lit a fire under his ass and made him desperately hope that Drifter was alive. He didn't want to face a reality where they weren't.

Lettie and Quincy arrived at the dormitory with ease thanks to the memories shared with them. They hesitated before approaching the door and looked at each other. They looked a proper mess. Familiar and well-worn worry creased Lettie's face, and Quincy's wide, searching eyes betrayed not just his fear, but vulnerability. Fuck happy thoughts. They went through the doors.

The first thing they saw was the boy, his back to shelves just in front of the entrance. He had a cut on his forehead that was bleeding profusely. The blood mixed with tears as it streamed down his face. Kitchen knives were embedded in the shelf and the floor at his feet. Thrown at him. He looked ahead into the kitchen in horror, trembling hands reaching out but not daring to move from the spot.

The little girl was sitting in one of the chairs at the table, she gripped the seat as if it were her only lifeline as the monster with the collage of faces worked at her hair. They heard ripping. Whimpering. The monster brutally ran a comb through her hair, tearing out knots and tangles. Neither of the kids dared to make a sound, their cries were strangled with effort to stay as quiet as possible. The creature however did not make that same effort. In a strange and garbled voice that could barely be understood, it screamed about how difficult it was to do this every day. How much of a burden they both were. How they weren't worth the sacrifices made. Then the comb caught on a small thin braid still in the girl's hair. The monster didn't stop, even as the girl struggled. It held her down. It tore. The little girl screamed. It was a desperate and confused wail that drowned out the sickening sound of her scalp rending.

"NO!"

Both Quincy and the boy shouted in tandem. The boy rushed forward to grab the girl. The creature screeched ferally and bit down with teeth that materialized out of the darkness behind it's collage of faces on one the boy's arm as he wrapped them around his sister. Quincy couldn't stop himself, he tried to deck the creature. He relished in both satisfaction and confusion when his fist made contact. The boy managed to tear himself free, leaving a sizable chunk of arm behind. The sound of the monster consuming his flesh followed them as he fled out the door, carrying his sobbing sister away.

Quincy was left staring down this amalgamation of what should have been a parent. Lettie tried to follow the kids, but as soon as they had stepped out of the room, they vanished. The monster did not. The collage of faces burned away until there was nothing left but darkness and teeth where the head should be. The void curled around it, manifesting silver scythes. Quincy stepped back, drawing his sidearm, and training it on the big black blur. Hard to miss, even with his eyes fucked up. There was an inhuman screech, and it lurched forward drawing back a silver claw to strike.

Quincy fired.

Anger burned away at Arthur's thoughts, consuming everything else. His concern for Amir was replaced by rage. Why couldn't he follow simple instructions?! Stay together. Stay together! He had made it so clear.

"AMIR!"

He roared. There was no reply from Amir, only the Zariman returned his fury in echos. He raced back to the crossroads where they had seen Drifter. Even all his love for Drifter burned away into furious wrath. Drifter didn't struggle. They didn't even try. Didn't they know how much losing them would hurt? Drifter fought so hard for everything else, but they didn't fight to get back to him. He punted the hand he had cut off the statue earlier into the golden Zariman before screaming for Amir again.

Above all he was furious at himself. He should have been keeping a closer eye on Amir. It was stupid of him to get so distracted that he abandoned the one person in the Hex who'd wander off. He had let his damn feelings about Drifter consume him. He was alone. This is how it always ended. Like he was rotten, long before Entrai infected him. Driving away everyone around him. Amir. Aoi. Drifter. Christopher. They all left him.

The next time he screamed Amir's name it came out more like a desperate plea. In the silence that followed the unanswered echos Arthur heard footsteps down one of the branching paths. He stormed down the corridor. At its end, as if he were entering some grand arena, was a great, open terrace where the light of the void shone from a glass ceiling down on countless balconies overhead. In the center was a Warframe.

Arthur cautiously moved toward the Warframe, struggling to identify them. He had only see Drifter use this frame once before. It took a while for the name to come to him. Kullervo. The only time Arthur had seen him in use was early in their first year together. It hadn't been a good day. The Hex had been less than welcoming to Drifter to say the least. Kullervo left the mall without a word. When he returned, he was drenched in blood and ichor. When Arthur saw Drifter next they barely answered any questions. Chatter from the Scaldra suggested not just a bloodbath but a sadistic frenzy. Arthur had tried to push that side of Drifter to the back of his mind. Just the memory of Drifter's almost sadistic smile afterwards made him speak with apprehension,

"Drifter?"

Kullervo turned toward him with a guttural hiss, raising a claymore with ease in one hand toward Arthur. Challenging him. The fury in Arthur didn't hesitate to accept that challenge. He summoned his exalted blade and charged.

Arthur had never seen Kullervo in a fight and had expected the blades piercing the Warframe's torso to be unmovable fixtures. It was a surprise when the daggers spiraled out gracefully, Arthur parried them as he advanced. When he was within striking distance, the blades rushed back toward Kullervo. Arthur attempted to dodge and deflect the daggers as they came, but took deep gashes in his arms and chest. Seemingly invigorated with the dagger's return, Kullervo countered Arthur's next strike with ease.

Anger still burned in Arthur, driving him to attack without questioning why. They traded blows. Kullervo hit hard, but Arthur was faster. For each of Kullervo's swings, Arthur could get two in. Arthur leapt away, preparing to use the momentum of a dash to cut through Kullervo's defenses, only to witness his opponent disappear. Of course. Drifter loved disappearing. This second of bitterness distracted Arthur just enough. He was caught off guard when Kullervo immediately reappeared over him, already swinging his claymore down. Arthur barely managed to raise his sword to stop Kullervo from bisecting him. As he was pinned there, the blades piercing Kullervo's torso slid out again. Thinking fast, Arthur let the claymore fall, sacrificing his shoulder to dash forward, out of range. Kullervo staggered as he was impaled by his own blades. Arthur pivoted using the last of his energy to rush forward and impale Kullervo, adding his blade to the many.

Kullervo went still. Arthur won.

Sweet victory made the acrid taste of anger more palatable. Arthur couldn't help a smile, and an almost demented laugh. As he stood relishing in his victory, he felt warm blood trickle down the hilt of his sword and over his hands. Arthur looked up, and was met not with the faceless helm he was expecting, but a man. The man's shorn head and gear made him distinctly military. It made the shock worse. Arthur stood frozen, the exalted blade dissolved in a burst of light, leaving him with nothing in his blood drenched hands. Words died in his throat, caught in apologies and confusion. The man suddenly grabbed him, pulling him forward, and he shouted an order to someone behind Arthur,

"Run ya little grubbers!"

Arthur looked back as he struggled with the man, and was horrified to see the young Drifter and their sibling. The boy was bleeding profusely from their forehead, and a gouge on his arm, but he still held his sister. The little girl's hair was in utter disarray, separated into blood caked clumps and broken strands. They were both frozen in terror. Staring. Arthur reached out toward them, his voice escaped him in a croak,

"...no..."

"No!"

The man screamed as he dragged Arthur away. Suddenly the shadows of the terrace deepened and took shape. Crawling from the darkness, hundreds of humanoid figures emerged, growling and howling like wild animals. They reached the man who was once Kullervo, and started to rip him apart. Tearing his flesh and limbs away, consuming him as he screamed. Arthur broke free of the man's grip and ran. He didn't know if he was running away or trying to protect the kids. It didn't matter. As he approached the children, they wailed in horror and fled. The man behind him started laughing maniacally through exposed teeth and sinew. Arthur heard a familiar click. He turned just in time to witness the man explode in a fiery blast, taking the shadows with him. The shockwave of the blast knocked Arthur off his feet. When Arthur rose again, he was alone with his wounds and the blood on his hands.

Chapter Text

Questions buzzed unceasingly in Amir's head as he stared at the spot Drifter had hesitated while calling his name. He tried to recall everything he could about the day they stopped the reactor exploding the first time. The sheer panic. Arthur fighting, not just the Babau, but the radiation. Aoi lying motionless on the floor...no...she was triumphant this time. Drifter helped her too. He had expected a gunshot at any moment, but it never came. Instead, he heard Drifter's gentle voice in his head, calming him. Showing him what he had inside all along. A kickass parazon. The Hex could manage the reactor on their own after that. Though the feeling that someone was watching out for him lingered in the years that followed, it had been his only experience with transference. He knew precious little beyond that.

Drifter had been cagey. Amir couldn't blame them. Quincy had asked about Warframes when they were all just starting to get to know each other. Complete and open honesty was the wrong move. Amir could still remember the anger in Quincy's voice while Drifter attempted to offer assurances. Desperate promises they didn't know were possible to keep. A laundry list of hopes and dreams. After that Drifter put a lid on their forthrightness. They also never quite saw eye to eye with Quincy again.

Back on track. Transference. Drifter must have been able to project their presence a great distance. In that one day they jumped from the Zoo where Lettie and Eleanor were to the reactor. Distance and physical presence didn't matter. Speaking of physicality, where did Drifter's body go? Amir had seen them leap in and out of Warframes seamlessly in a shower of light. There was definitely no extra space in any of the Hex and he assumed any Warframe for Drifter to squeeze in. And there was alot of mass there. Drifter was not a small person. The Law of Conservation of Matter demanded that Drifter meat had to go somewhere. They couldn't spontaneously destroy and recreate themselves on a whim. Maybe they could store their mass in a pocket dimension. Or the void.

Oh shit.

They were in the void.

Was this transference gone horribly wrong? He looked up, preparing to share his thoughts with Arthur only to discover he was utterly alone. He couldn't help but squeak out a confused,

"Arthur?!"

Amir stood in shock, running both hands through his hair and holding them there as if to prevent his thoughts from taking flight. He hadn't moved. He hadn't gotten lost! Arthur lost him. It couldn't of been that long ago. Going against the time honored advice to just stay put, Amir sprinted forward. It was no use. The path split, then split again and again. He searched until he was exhausted and had turned himself around so much there was no hope of getting back. Worse, he still had no idea where Arthur had gone.

Then he heard an unfamiliar robotic voice from a door barely cracked open,

"Class? Students?"

He peered inside and saw a giant cracked screen askew on the wall gently illuminating the room with faint blue light. Amir scrambled over the makeshift barricade of desks and chairs and stood in front of the screen. It was flickering, but still displayed a blue orb of some kind. He spoke with apprehensive excitement,

"Uh...hello?"

"Class? C-C-Classssssss?"

"Um. Do you have a map or can you give me directions?"

"...direct your a-a-attention to the windows, you may find this instructive."

Confused, Amir walked over to the window and looked out into the void. He was just about to turn back when he heard a familiar voice whisper from just behind him,

"Cephalon, kill the lights and switch off."

Amir started and whipped around. The empty room was now full of weeping and wounded children. There was not just screaming from the hall, but bestial groans and howls. Fingers clawing against metal. Banging. Amir's heart started to race as his eyes darted around the room. One child's head was gushing blood. Another lay motionless on the ground. Drifter must be here too, but he couldn't find them. He had to get them away from here. He had to save them all. Protect them. He didn't have time.

Slow it down. Breath. This isn't real.

The room went dark.

When the lights returned the desks were now in neat rows. Sudents mingled and chatted in little groups around the room. Amir immediately honed in on the little Drifters.

"I'll be there soon, just play with your friend."

There was a little annoyance in the older brother's voice as he dismissed his sister. She ducked her head out of the doorway where she had been shyly peeking in. As soon as she left he continued talking with two other boys. One looked a little older, he had short brown hair and mismatched eyes. The other was the smallest of the group, and his blonde hair was shorn so short it looked like peach fuzz. Amir could hear them talk but it was indistinct and strange. They spoke words, but he couldn't understand them. Like he was in a dream. It wasn't the only dreamlike thing. Everything had an indistinct fuzziness to it. Even Amir's own thoughts felt distant.

The boys started moving toward the door. Amir followed. He saw the little sister dancing with a girl around the same age as her who had short hair and freckles. They were being lead in the dance by an older girl, who was the right age to be in the same class as the boys. Peach Fuzz walked over with a shit-eating grin and yanked on one of the braids as the little Drifter twirled. Amir instictively reached out to pull the boy away but Odd-Eyes beat him to it. Glaring dissapprovingly at his friend. He offered more comfort to the little girl than her brother. The girl held back tears as she stared at her brother who refused to make eye contact. One by one the children dissapeared into an encroaching darkness. As Amir's eyes adjusted the ship seemed to fall into disrepair rapidly around him.

There was screaming from down the hall. Monstrous shadows chased a group of children as they fled. Amir recognized a few of them, Freckles desperately beckoned the others into the classroom. A few of the children ignored her and ran past. Lagging behind was, the older girl-Dancer dragging Odd Eyes who struggled to stay conscious as blood poured from his head, drenching his clothes in a growing dark stain. Amir reached out, desprate to help but everything dissolved into darkness before his outstretched hand.

When Amir opened his eyes everything had that indistinct fuzziness to it again. The siblings were alone, walking hand in hand. They chatted idly, and again, their speech was unintelligible. Like a half-remembered dream. Amir shook the fog from his mind and spoke,

"Is this....is this something you're doing Drifter? Are you trying to protect me?"

The scene looped and the siblings walked past him again.

"Drifter please. You don't have to baby me."

Amir could swear he saw the siblings hesitate for just a moment before the lights flickered away yet again.

With the darkness came screeches and footsteps sprinting toward Amir. The boy and his sister were alone, making a mad dash down the hall. The boy's face was covered in dried blood and tears. He gripped his sister's arm tightly as he forcibly dragged her along. She was barely keeping her feet under her as she stumbled and choked on gasps, struggling to keep pace with her older brother. They stopped to take shelter in the classroom.

The little girl started to sob, but her brother held a firm hand against her mouth,

"Quiet. Keep your voice down."

She nodded, desperately trying to hold back quiet sobs, pressing her hands to her mouth to silence herself. The older brother wrapped himself around his sister and stroked her blood matted hair. Through her sobs she whispered,

"I want to go home."

Her brother had no response. He only chewed his dirty nails in nervous contemplation. Amir sat next to them. They looked so tired. So hurt. So small.

"Drifter?", Amir spoke quietly as he stared at the siblings. They didn't react. Even if this wasn't real all he wanted to do was hug them and never let go. As if that would somehow make all their pain go away. He couldn't resist gently reaching out to them and was surprised to find his hand touch something physical. Without hesitation he wrapped his arms around the both of them and couldn't stop himself from crying with them. His voice was thick as he spoke between shuddering sobs,

"I'm so sorry this happened. I wish I was there. I wish I could've protected you.

As he pulled them in closer he felt an hand on his back weakly returning the embrace, too large to be a child's. The embrace was painfully familiar. Amir started to tremble and his voice faltered as well,

"I missed you so much."

Amir could feel something wet and warm brush up against his cheek. He froze. Were those tears? He had never seen Drifter cry. Drifter spoke in a weak, unsteady whisper with a voice broken by overuse,

"...never wanted anyone to know any of this."

"It doesn't matter we're here now. We're bringing you home."

A few rough muddled breaths that sounded vaguely like bitter laughter escaped Drifter. While burying their face in Amir's shoulder they muttered something about new and fucked up ways to torture themselves. Their hand slid off of Amir's back and Amir held on tighter. The tightness of the embrace strangled Drifter's words,

"I...I can't save you...I'm so tired."

"You don't have to. Just rest, ok? Just rest..."

Drifter sighed and started to go a bit slack. Amir placed his hand on the back of Drifter's head, but flinched away when their skull shifted inward with his slight touch and his hand met with a sticky wet warmth. Sudden dread sank Amir's heart, like lead as he stared at the dark blood on his trembling hand. He pulled away. Drifter was barely holding on. Their eyes were unfocused and blinking slowly. There were no tears, only blood. Amir panicked,

"No! No no nonononono. Forget what I said stay with me. Please. No. Please Dee Dee. Keep your eyes open."

Amir was horrified when the edge of Drifter's body started to dematerialize into soft light. Drifter's eyes couldn't seem to focus on him and they murmured softly in reply,

"I'm sorry..."

"No please just...This...This is transference, right? Where are you? Where is your body?"

"...wanted somewhere to hide-"

Amir interrupted, "Hidden? Come on! I need more to go on than that. Please."

Drifter's laughter was barely more than a breath. Their reply was almost cold, "You never listen..."

"I'm listening! I'm listening! Don't go!"

It didn't matter how Amir begged them not to, Drifter closed their eyes before vanishing in a cascade of light. Amir didn't have time to grieve. As soon as Drifter vanished there were horrible screams and crashes coming from every direction. Thousands of shadows began to manifest humanoid shapes that reached toward him, desperate and hungry. He tried to run, but he was exhausted. Not just his body, but weariness had worked its way into every fiber of his being.

It didn't take long for the shadows to catch him. Amir didn't have anything else except his knives. It felt stupid now, but the Hex didn't wander around the mall armed to the teeth. They hadn't been prepared to be dragged aboard the Zariman so no one, save Quincy, arrived fully kitted out. Amir drew his knives, one in each hand, and attacked, slashing at the shadows with wide desprate strokes. As soon as he drove one back, another would lurch forward and grab him. Soon Amir resorted to kicking and biting, fighting with everything he had.

The shadows mercilessly bit and scratched. They were no stronger than an average human but their numbers were never ending. They couldn't actually break through Amir's armor, but his head had no such protection. The attacks weren't grievous, but there were many. He took a dozen bites and scratches for every hundred he dodged or blocked. Eventually exhaustion overwhelmed him. Amir resorted to curling into a ball and using his arms to protect his head.

Amir lay curled there for what seemed like hours as they clawed at his armor, trying to find a way in to consume what was left of him. Like he was a crab. Maybe his brain was just desperate to escape this situation, but Amir couldn't get the thought of being a crab out of his mind. His knives were claws, his armor shell, and he was delicious crab meat. He really wanted to go back to the ocean to be with his little crab friends. Somehow that thought gave him a mote of energy. Amir sent that energy out in an electrical burst. The electricity chained from one shadow to the next and he leapt free, screaming with ridiculous and wild newfound hope,

"I'M A BEAUTIFUL FUCKING CRAB!!"

As Amir sprinted down the hall, new shadows formed and leapt at him reaching toward him. Even running as fast as he could he was barely keeping ahead of them. The hopefulness of just a few moments ago started to fade as panic set in, then he heard a familiar laugh. A little green mote appeared and danced around him, inviting him to go even faster. Amir laughed at the sight of it. He loved Wisp. Everything always seemed a little more fun with her around. He looked around to try to catch a glimpse of her but he couldn't see even the faintest hint past the shadows. There was no time to search. No time to think. No time to consider if this meant Drifter was ok after all. He ran as fast as he could until the shadows lay still once again and Wisp's mote vanished.

Chapter Text

It was difficult to dodge the scythes, especially while he was trying to aim with his pistol. Quincy's vision had deteriorated enough that he could no longer see the subtle tells of when and which direction an attack was coming. Lettie was desperately trying to call dodges for him, but it didn't matter. The delay was too great. He wasn't fast enough. Cut after cut after cut. One after the other. Until his legs and arms were coated in his own blood. The only silver lining was that at least dodging managed to spare his most important bits.

Lettie ended up pulling a reluctant Quincy away, desperate to spare him. The only weapon she had on her was her pistol. Without needing a word Quincy passed her his dagger, in a single fluid motion, as she took point. Lettie was deeply regretting the absolutely useless healing she had done before. Scraping the last of her energy she formed a link between herself and the monster. Channeling the pain it inflicted back. It didn't do much except buy time. Fortunately time was all Quincy needed. He repositioned himself close to the exit, already planning a tactical retreat while aiming his pistol.

Quincy could barely tell where Lettie's dark hair ended and the creature's void damned head began. Each shot he took was carefully aimed. Too careful. Too slow. Lettie spared a glance at Quincy. It weakened her resolve to see his hands tremble. While he waited to be sure of his next clear shot, the door behind him suddenly opened, and he fired wide. The bullet deflected off a pan on the kitchen wall, and into the window, cracking it. Quincy spun, ready to attack whatever just opened the door, when he came face to face with Drifter. Not a memory of some kid. His Drifter. All of Quincy's bravado melted in an instant. He could feel tears well up in his eyes, blurring his vision further. Damn. He had missed his lil cuz.

Despite his joy on seeing they were alive, what Quincy wanted most in this moment was to shove Drifter out of the room. He wanted to spare them from witnessing any more pain. They didn't have to see Quincy bleed or see the two of them take care of this monstrous parent of theirs. Despite the horrific scene, none of what was happening in the room seemed to matter to Drifter. They ran trembling hands along empty shelves, searching for something that wasn't there.

Before Quincy could even move, Lettie screamed in pain as the scythes came down onto her. The link had broken. It tore Quincy's attention away from Drifter. He fired at the creature, distracting it just enough to give Lettie a moment to repositioned. When he looked back, Drifter had vanished. Good. He couldn't think about that now. Lettie blocked the next few attacks with the ceramic dagger. Nothing they were doing seemed to effect the creature beyond staggering it. They needed to run before they were incapacitated.

Quincy eyed the door, preparing to lay cover fire for Lettie to get away. It opened again. This time the lil Drifters were there. They looked horrible, so much worse than when Quincy had seen them escape just a few minutes ago. It looked like they had been on the run for days. The tear streaked blood caking their faces was dry and cracking. They were not just gaunt but starved. Everything about them felt desperate and haunted.

The boy screamed. He charged toward the monster with a long peice of scrap metal. Quincy instinctively tried to stop him. The kid struck the creature on the shadowy head. Somehow that effected it more than bullets ever did and it went down.

Suddenly it wasn't a shadow anymore but a woman. So small and lithe in stature, her son had already outgrown her. Collapsed on the ground, clutching her head, she looked so vulnerable. She looked so much like Drifter. It threw Lettie off so completely that she lowered the dagger. Her first instinct was to help. To heal. She reached out to the women, words of comfort on her lips. The only reply the woman had was a low, feral growl before lunging at the boy. The humanity still lingering even as her face contorted into a horrific snarl. Her son wailed as he struck her again, trying to drive her back. His strikes were weak and imprecise. He was no fighter. Despite that he succeeded in driving back his feral mother toward the door opposite the exit.

As they approached the door opened and to Quincy's horror he saw where Drifter got their height. Their father came lumbering from the darkness in the other room. The towering man swung at his son, sending him flying into the kitchen table. Lettie had tried to break the boy's fall to no effect. Both the boy and the table tumbled into the wall. Desperate to help, she screamed at him to get up and run as his father lurched toward him. The boy scrambled backwards, crying desperately. He curled against the wall and threw his hands over his head as his father raised his arm to swing again.

Then there was a soft thunk. A little rock bounced harmlessly off the man's head before he got the chance to strike his son. Quincy slowly turned to see the little girl behind him raise her arm to toss another bit of rubble at the feral man who was nearly twice her height. Quincy tried to stop her, but it was too late. It found it's mark, she succeeded in getting her father's attention. He charged toward them, roaring. The little girl leapt onto the shelves, scrambling to the top of them.

Quincy stood his ground unarmed, he couldn't risk a stray bullet hitting one the kids and Lettie had his dagger. He tried to grapple the man. Just like the mother had been when she was a void monster there was physicality there. Something he could stop. As they wrestled he remembered an article he had read a while back. Something about humans being unable to use all their strength because it would damage muscles and tendons. The brain instinctively inhibits their use. Well this guy's brain was fucked. Quincy could feel ligaments snap as the man wrenched himself out of his grasp. Despite his inhuman strength Quincy lost. Maybe it was his own brain inhibiting him, preventing him from hurting his friend's father. Everything about this confusing, horrible situation tugged at his heartstrings, especially when he saw their dad had the same damn eyes as Drifter. For his trouble Quincy took a blow to the side of head that sent him careening to the ground. The father rose triumphantly over him.

There was another soft little thunk as the little girl threw a trinket from the shelves at the back of her father's head. In the time it had taken Quincy to fight her father she had gotten her mother's attention with the same tactic. As her parents advanced on her position she quickly grabbed one of the knives imbedded in the shelves. Her father lunged at her as leapt to the top of the shelves by the other door, scrambling ungracefully as her mother snapped at her heels. She looked back, probably to check that her parent's attention was still on her but Quincy could swear she was looking at him. The little girl leapt down from the shelves, running into the other room as her parents pursued. Her brother grabbed his pipe and bolted after them in a desperate panic. Lettie attempted to follow but the doors closed and refused to open. Desperate to help, to stop this, to spare them from this horror Lettie screamed and pounded on the door. It refused to open. Only Quincy's pained moan tore her attention away from it and toward someone she could actually help.

Lettie used the supplies from her kit to patch Quincy up. The scythes had cut deep. His arms had taken most of the blows, damaging his prosthetics but the worst was one on his thigh that managed to cut through layers of infested flesh to expose bone. At least the cuts were clean. Lettie used skin glue to seal the wound. It wasn't pretty but it would only have to hold until she could rest. After she had a moment to recover she could heal him properly or at least the infestation would heal the wound for them. She did the same to the lacerations on her chest.

Quincy and Lettie sat for a moment in the ransacked kitchen, both fixated on the locked door. They had seen their fair share of war. Lettie in particular had seen the worst of it, dealing with the aftermath of sheer indifference to human suffering. She had bore witness to men wailing at the sight of their own entrails scattered across the ground, women weeping as they begged her to save babies long dead, and the silent screaming of children whose voices had been burned away by chemical weapons. This was somehow worse.

Perhaps Drifter suffered less than those strangers. It didn't matter to Lettie. This was personal. Too personal. Babas was already a soft spot in her heart and now she was seeing pequeño Babas. They were crying. Hurting. There was no end to this suffering and there was nothing she could do. It was feeling helpless and useless that she hated the most. Lettie hurled one of the chairs at the locked door, making one last effort to break through. The chair bounced off uselessly and skittered across the floor.

Lettie dragged Quincy to his feet. He was unsteady. The adrenaline had bled out of him, leaving only pain. Lettie supported Quincy as they limped out of the kitchen, and into the hallway. They were silent, except for occasional pained groans and grunts as they started to hobble back to the rendezvous point.

They got lost. Perhaps it was the exhaustion, or maybe the ship was somehow fucking with them. As they walked in circles, the seal on Lettie's hastily patched wound broke, and blood trickled down to her feet in rivulets. Luckily for them both, Quincy's injuries remained intact. If he had to guess why, he would assume Lettie had put more care into treating him than herself. They didn't stop. With desperate determination they just kept moving forward, leaning on each other as they went.

Quincy was the first to see it, Lettie was too preoccupied with their wounds, and keeping them both standing. By their long hair, and the stupid looking wetsuit they always wore under everything, he guessed it was Drifter. He was too far away to see their face. What he did see was Drifter blinking in and out of existence, flickering like a busted-up TV. They looked like they were dodging something Quincy couldn't see. He pushed Lettie away and moved toward the memory as fast has he could. Quincy failed to see a gaping hole, until he was taking a step off of the edge. If Lettie hadn't been there to pull him back, he would have plummeted a dozen meters into dark water below.

They both watched the fragmented image of Drifter attempt to escape the sudden collapse of this part of the Zariman. They failed. As Quincy and Lettie stood at the edge of chasm they watched in horror as Drifter fell into the dark, eerily still water over and over again as the memory looped. Quincy screamed. Lettie had never heard him like that, and the pure anguish in his voice filled her with dread. Ignoring, or maybe just forgetting about his wounds, he leapt into the water and started to search desperately. Lettie remained atop, trying to find something, anything that she could use to pull Quincy up. She prayed that Qunicy was the only thing she had to dredge from the water.

Fallen rubble made the search impossible. The water was deep enough to go over Quincy's head in places and it was too dark to see through. Drifter could be hidden under slabs of fallen ceiling or caught on twisted rusted metal. Quincy felt his way around the murky water expecting any minute to collide with the stiff, unmoving corpse of his friend but he never did. After an hour of searching and reopening his wounds Lettie managed to coax Quincy away.

Lettie fished out a bedraggled and defeated Quincy with a tattered banner she had pulled from the ceiling. As he clambered over the edge he hesitated. His eyes may be fucked up, but he was still sharp. There was a faint handprint in the dust on the underside of the edge. He extended his own hand and traced it over the handprint. It was large but narrower than his own. Drifter. Lettie struggled to hold him aloft as he took time to look around, peering over the rim, at eye level with the floor. There. A trail of dark blood, leading back down the corridor where they had come. Lettie left her own trail, but she had taken a path straight down the center of the hall. The other trail remained close to the wall. With newfound determination and pulling energy from Sol knows where, Quincy leapt over the edge. He stumbled and limped toward the wall. Another handprint. Drifter had used the wall to support themselves as they moved down the hall.

Quincy rushed to the end of the hall, following the trail with Lettie following close behind. She attempted to stop him, desperate to patch him up again, but he brushed her aside. Quincy couldn't stop or explain anything until he was sure. If he stopped, he wouldn't be able to get up again.

The trail continued. Lettie's and Drifter's twin trails of blood followed the exact path they had taken, back to Drifter's old home. Quincy could feel his heart collapse with that revelation. Of fucking course that's where they would be. The flood of emotions kicked his legs out from under him and he collapsed to his knees. Lettie was already by his side with her kit open. As she started cleaning and reapplying the skin glue to his reopened wounds he grabbed her by the shoulders and spoke,

"We gotta get that fucking door open. We need Amir."

Chapter Text

Chapter Text

This room was bloody weird. Everything looked as it did when they had left the Backrooms but nothing was quite right. The floofs were weirdly hard. The couches weirdly soft. The books were filled with gibberish. Aoi couldn't use her powers on any of the metal in this room. Everything looked right but nothing was right.

Eleanor eventually settled on one of the couches downstairs in a shadowy corner, nursing her migraine and trying not to think of think of the weirdness. Aoi was in the loft upstairs trying to find a way to play music. The CDs definitely didn't work, so she was trying to figure out if Drifter's dancing music device did. The room was quiet. It made her uneasy in the same way the far too soft couches did. Drifter hated silence. They always had music or the TV playing. Sometime both. Sometimes both at full volume.

The only silver lining of this room was that the ever present void song was softened here. Despite the uneasy feeling it induced, the quiet gave Eleanor some relief, and it allowed her mind to wander. She could feel her thoughts being tugged in five different directions. Oddly enough, it wasn't Aoi who's pull was the strongest, but Quincy. Eleanor could feel his anger, protectiveness, and above all his fear. As distressing as it was, she couldn't allow herself to be drawn in. Horrific things happened on this ship, and they were reliving the worst of it. Everyone was afraid. She could feel the fear from all the Hex. Even...even Drifter. She felt the fragment of Drifter's fear again. The quiet had let her focus deepen. She could now reach the shattered, fragmented mind of her friend.

Eleanor reached out, hoping to find a connection to Drifter, but fear was a greedy thing. It latched on like the writhing shadows had when they first arrived on the Zariman, pulling her under.

Suddenly, she wasn't Eleanor anymore, but someone much smaller. She...they...were peering through a window into their neighbor's Dormizone. There were untouched nutrition cubes on the table. Even more tempting was what appeared to be a full nutrient dispenser on the shelf right by the door. It made sense. This family didn't have kids to feed, just a baby.

Eleanor had never been this hungry before. It was a terrible clawing feeling that was not just empty but painful. They just needed to go in and grab the dispenser. Then they could eat. Unfortunately there was an adult in the room. A woman, unmoving and facing a corner. Adults were terrifying. If they caught you they would hurt you or worse.

Maybe if they were quiet enough, sneaky enough, there wouldn't be any danger. Hunger made them bold. They crawled into the room, quiet as could be. The door was not. It screeched as it opened and the woman spun to face the intruder with an inhuman howl. Little hands were already on the dispenser the only thing left to do was run. They spared a glance at the woman as they turned to run. Blood and ick stained her mouth and was smeared down the front of her body. A passing glimpse of horror in Drifter's life full of such horrors.

Eleanor's adult comprehension overrode Drifter's childish experience. What had happened clicked for both Eleanor and Drifter in that moment as they ran out of the room, nutrient dispenser in hand.

Just a baby.

No, no, no. Oh void. We were...we were right on the other side of that wall. Was that what that sound was? Could I have stopped it?

Just a baby.

Why didn't I realize until now? I could have...I should have...You couldn't. You were a child...but I managed against my parents. I could have saved them. I didn't.

Just a baby.

There was a disconnected between Eleanor and Drifter. The shock and horror had sent Drifter spiraling down into hellish guilt. Eleanor was desperately trying to maintain the connection, to offer her friend comfort. She needed to somehow rescind the trauma she had unwittingly inflicted. It was no use. She woke in the Backrooms again.

The fear still had its tendrils coiled around her consciousness and she recoiled in terror at seeing an adult standing in front of her within striking distance. She raised her arms, defending herself against the inevitable attack. It took a long and tense moment for her to recognize Aoi. Wary of frightening Eleanor, Aoi didn't dare move. She looked more concerned than ever before and her voice reflected that sentiment,

"Eleanor...? You ok?"

Eleanor shook her head, she was not ok. None of this was even remotely close to ok. She didn't think it was even possible to traumatize Drifter more but she had miraculously done it. Like the monster she was. More than that she had shared it, felt the fear, confusion, helplessness and guilt. She trembled as she buried her head in her hands and breathed deep, desperately trying to ground herself. Aoi cautiously moved toward her, daring to at least make herself a comforting presence. It took a long time for Eleanor to pull herself out of that terrible moment with a renewed desperation to find Drifter. This was a hell she couldn't ever begin to fathom, they had to bring Drifter home now.

Unable to sit still any more, she grabbed Aoi before bursting from the Backrooms with newfound determination. Her head felt like it was splitting open with each movement, and she could hear her blood pounding in her ears. The pain was impossible to ignore, but it just didn't matter. She would suffer. She would fight through if it meant Drifter was spared from even a second more of this.

They turned toward the rendezvous point. Down the hall they saw a figure looming there. Head completely covered in blood like a sanguine veil. It turned toward them and started to run. Eleanor fought her initial instinct to flee when faced with a creature so thoroughly covered in blood it reduced its features to a smear. They stood their ground as it approached, preparing for a fight. It extended its arms and opened its mouth,

"Aoi! Eleanor!"

It waved at them. Confusion immediately turned to concern when they heard a laugh that sounded so desperately relieved and familiar. It was Amir under all of that blood. Aoi ran up to him in a panic, holding his head and examining the countless scratches and gouges all over his face and head. A part of his cheek had been flayed, underneath the loose flap of skin she could see tendrils of tech rot and muscle. Half of one of his ears was missing. Aoi couldn't hide how distraught she was and cried, "Oh gods...Amir. What happened? Where's Arthur?!"

Amir was smiling, he grabbed Aoi by the shoulders, steading himself, "It's ok. We-we got separated. I'm so happy I found you guys. I...I..."

As he struggled with his words he swallowed and his eyes welled up with tears. There was still a thin, barely present smile on his face. His grip on Aoi's shoulders tightened and he clung to her desperately as his next words were muddled with tears, "I...I think I killed Drifter."

"What!?"
What?

Amir's smile broke, he started to sob as he collapsed in front of Aoi, "They were right there and...and they said they were tired so I was like...aw man, rest dude! They went to sleep butbutbut their head....their skull." He swallowed dryly before looking up at them both desperately, "Thatthingpeoplesay...if you go to sleep with a concussion you never wake up...pleasepleasepleaseplease tell me that's a myth."

Aoi and Eleanor glanced at each other. They had both seen plenty of people go down with head wounds and not get up again. More importantly- Amir saw Drifter? Talked to them? Then didn't drag their apparently unconscious ass back? And where was Arthur? It was too much for them to process all at once and their moment of hesitation felt like an eternity to Amir. Horror took over every part of him and he couldn't catch his breath. He could feel the Zariman's dark halls close in on him and his aching heart start to race.

Aoi immediately pulled Amir into a hug, and Eleanor followed, not just physically, but mentally as well. She used her own feelings of guilt to harmonize with Amir. Together they gathered up his scattered, frantic thoughts and focused them. It wasn't Amir's fault. They would find Drifter and help them. After a few deep breaths they had all calmed down enough for Amir to explain how he had gotten separated from Arthur and what he experienced. Then how Drifter said they were "somewhere to hide".

Somewhere to hide.

Those words exactly called a memory from deep within Eleanor. Arthur had told her... or maybe it was something she had just pried from his passing thoughts, it was something about Drifter and Duviri. Something terrible and heartbreaking. Whenever the Drifter wanted to hide in Duviri they would unwittingly recreate their childhood bedroom.

They're home.

Arthur didn't feel like Arthur. He felt like some new creature born of rage and hatred. His mind felt so full he could barely feel the burns and lacerations. Everything was tinted red, like the universe was covered in blood. He shambled forward, not really knowing or understanding where he was going. Movement was the only option.

Bloodstained step after bloodstained step. He found himself back at the statue of the Zariman. Golden. Shining. Mocking. His roar sounded inhuman as he drew his blade and cut the damn ship in half. Wielding his sword like a club he came down on the ship. Again and again. Dulling his blade on the stone and gold. It had taken everything from him. His heart, his sanity, his home. He hacked away at it until that perfect gleaming lie was nothing but rubble at his feet. The three statues that stood in front of the golden Zariman had been beheaded and amputated in his frenzied attack. His heavy breaths sprayed a fine mist of blood over the statues as he stepped past them and over the rubble. He moved down the hall marked with a little smile.

Destroying the Zariman in effigy did nothing to sooth his anger. He couldn't stop seeing the children in every shadow as he lumbered down the hall. Their terrified eyes haunting him, fueling the hatred he had for himself. Their similarity to Drifter couldn't escape him. He could clearly see his Drifter as horrified as they were at the monster he had become. In every possible way he had failed Drifter, someone he claimed he loved. The same mistakes he had made with Aoi he was making here. He had been too focused on everything and everyone else to take time for them. Now they were gone. It was his fault.

Drifter would never have disappeared if he had just been better. He had noticed Drifter becoming more...distant before they had disappeared. Distant wasn't the right word. Unfocused perhaps. Disconnected was closest. In their most peaceful quiet moments Drifter would just...stop. They wouldn't respond to or express anything. It felt as though Drifter was dead and all Arthur was left with was a moving breathing corpse of his beloved. Sometimes Drifter would carefully begin examining whatever object they had been holding. Occasionally Arthur would be the object in question. The way they would brush their fingers across his face, staring with lifeless eyes still haunted him. At first it had been only a few seconds and it had been easy to ignore. Recently it had taken nearly an hour for them to return. Despite his efforts. His begging.

Arthur would understand it better if these moments were brought about by violence or surprise, but it was always in the quiet happiness they shared. The others never knew. He figured Drifter would talk to him about it when they were ready. Reflecting back on it now, Arthur wasn't sure if Drifter themselves realized what was happening. Stupid. He had been so stupid.

Shadows writhed, and came to life around him they howled, and screamed like starving, feral animals. They didn't attack him. Like a fish moving with the current they flowed around him like water. He was one of them. A monster. The terrifying creature in a child's worst nightmare. Through the shadows, backlit by void he saw them. Lettie. Loyal Lettie.

And.

QUINCY.

Rage filled him. Every needling comment, every moment of insubordination, every argument they ever had roared in his ears. Part of him was aware that some of this fury wasn't his, that he was better than this. He had to be. The hex needed a leader and he had to stay in control of himself before he could try to lead others. This was something else. Drifter seethed in Arthur's mind, feeding Arthur's rage with their own. Quincy lashed out at them when all they wanted to do was help. Every moment of kindness was a transaction, every interaction had a price tag, and when they finally had hope of getting close, Quincy ripped it away. He even insulted their clothes. It was too much. Blinded and berserk, Arthur advanced on the two of them.

"Arthur?", Lettie sounded scared, she was just as horrified as the children had been. Quincy looked at Arthur, squinting, then smiled,

"Ey, his maj finally makes an appearance, welcome to-"

Quincy didn't get a chance to finish before Arthur uttered an inhuman howl and attacked with his chipped and battered sword.

"What the fuck!?"

Despite Quincy's injuries, the attack had been easy to dodge. Too easy. Whatever frenzy that had ahold of Arthur was making him sloppy. Lettie was frozen, hesitating, hand hovering over her pistol. It was hard for Quincy to tell but she looked like she was crying.

"Oi! Arthur! Snap out of it!"

Something was definitely wrong. The left side of Arthur's face looked even more fucked up than before, but exactly why escaped Quincy's blurry vision. Quincy kept dodging Arthur's wild attacks until he slipped on his own blood from his damn leg wound. As the sword came down on him, he leapt backwards and vanished. Arthur roared. Hearing it made Quincy's skin crawl. He could hear Arthur's voice being torn by the effort, but even more horrifying was the metallic screech that accompanied it. Arthur ignored Lettie. Even when she was the only target with her shaking hands aiming a pistol at his head. He only wanted Quincy. It didn't take long for Quincy to reappear, though he tried to get as much distance as possible. Arthur charged and just as he was upon Quincy again he stopped, sword clattering to the ground as he froze mid swing.

Quincy turned and saw Arthur's eyes glowing purple. Sheer relief made him laugh when he saw Eleanor, Aoi, and...gods he hoped that bloody mess following them wasn't Amir.

Eleanor immediately rushed to Arthur, trembling hands cupping his face. The tech rot had grown, for the first time in years. It had subsumed his left eye. Leaving nothing behind but a glowing pinhole. She desperately reached out to Arthur's mind, praying that the infestation hadn't taken him. Eleanor's brow furrowed as she focused on her brother. He was still there. Still whole. A part of him was even grateful that she had returned some semblance of control to his psyche. He was just angry. Every other emotion he had was being twisted into anger. His concern for Amir, anxiety over the future, and love for all of them, but especially Drifter burned away into hatred. She had never felt something like this from him, from anyone. Even now, under her control, he seethed with unfathomable amounts of fury. If she relinquished her hold over him, he would return to attacking Quincy. As she dove deeper, she could feel a fragment of Drifter locked in a twisted transference with Arthur. Like the fragments of Drifter's fear and desperation, this was Drifter's fury. It had found a home in her brother and it refused to leave.

Eleanor came back to herself. Lettie and Quincy were hovering over Amir. Lettie was uselessly trying to clean him up the best she could. He just kept bleeding. Despite everything that was happening, Amir's eyes were locked on Arthur. The look on his bloody face betrayed how guilty and terrified he was. He was clearly blaming himself for what had happened to Arthur.

Aoi's expression was unreadable, but her voice was thin and frightened, "...is Arthur...?" Eleanor could clearly feel the razors edge they were teetering on. Everyone was scared and worried. She could feel them slipping. Their little makeshift family was on the verge of falling apart. Eleanor was at a loss of what to say to keep them all together and moving toward Drifter. Her resolve was absolutely shattered when she saw Lettie eyeing her with a level a distrust she hadn't felt in years. Unable to cope with losing Lettie's trust again Eleanor turned back to Aoi,

It's...it's just skin deep. This isn't the infestation it's...

She shook her head, it would take too long to explain. That was time in this torturous Hell that she refused to let Drifter linger in.

It doesn't matter, he'll...he'll be fine. I know where Drifter is. They're-

"Sé. There's a locked door, Amir could-"

"Employ my Wacky Hacky 9000? On it."

"We kickin' doors!"

Eleanor was surprised with how easy it had been to convince-no, that wasn't right, she had simply directed them. Despite their wounds, despite the fear, they all had one goal. Find Drifter. Bring them home. Even Arthur, with his mind drowning in rage, shared that goal. The Hex continued as one with renewed determination. They rushed into the Dormizone. Amir immediately ran to the control panel and slammed his parazon into it. They waited. Amir's hands began to tremble. Eleanor could feel his panic rising. It wasn't working. It should work but the door just wasn't opening. He didn't understand.

Eleanor turned to Arthur, locking eyes with him.

You're mad, right? How about we channel all that anger?

Without breaking eye contact with her brother Eleanor directed her thoughts toward Quincy, You need to leave.

Quincy opened his mouth to protest, but he looked around. At Arthur. At the rest of the Hex. At Drifter's destroyed home. He got along with Drifter the least. Still family but like cousins too far apart to really know each other. Drifter chose Arthur. Drifter needed Arthur. After a moment of bitterness Quincy limped out the doors, just out of sight.

Eleanor guided Arthur to the door and unceremoniously shoved his sword back into his hands. As soon as she relinquished control, he unleased all his fury onto the door. Screaming until the humanity in his voice flickered out and all that remained was a screech like fingernails running down the strings of a guitar. Stabbing and hacking away at what stood between him and his Drifter until there was a jagged hole large enough to squeeze through. Arthur scrambled, undignified into the darkness. It took a minute for his eyes to adjust. The only thing he could see at first were faintly glowing lights on the ceiling. Model stars and planets floated there, a map of the solar system for a little Drifter to fall asleep to.

Sitting on the floor, with their back on the shelves between two beds was Drifter. Their head was bent low and their long, blood matted hair covered their face. There was a certain stillness to a dead body. Arthur had seen enough death to identify a corpse on sight. There was a certain stillness to Drifter.

Chapter Text

The darkness on the other side of the door was eerily silent after Arthur crawled into it. Lettie was the first to go after Arthur. Unfortunately Trinity was a slightly less lithe frame than Excalibur, and Arthur had been precise. As a furious, desperate Lettie kicked the door, Eleanor slumped to the ground, leaning against a wall. No one noticed. Both Aoi and Amir were trying to assist Lettie in their own way. Aoi was coaxing the metal in the door to move, and Amir was still fiddling with the controls. An emotion had finally broken Arthur's anger. Despair. Eleanor took every bit of her twin's grief as her own. She struggled to breathe through tears, while she clung to the wall.

After tearing into the room, Lettie bore witness to Arthur rocking back and forth, clutching an unmoving Drifter. His head raised in a silent, agonizing scream. Arthur was barely in control, just enough to stop himself from crushing Drifter's body with his inhuman strength. Years of experience from dealing with wounded victims of war left Arthur completely as he handled the still bleeding body of his beloved with abandon.

Lettie remained steadfast. It was easy for her to slip into her role and divorce her feelings from the scene before her. As gently as she could she reached out to Arthur speaking steadily,

"Arthur. Give them to me."

Anger still had it's claws deep in Arthur. It twisted years of loyalty into distrust. He made no effort to hide his tumultuous emotions. Lettie didn't falter. Unflinchingly, she stared Arthur down until he closed his remaining eye in acceptance. As Lettie took Drifter into her arms, she could feel Arthur's hands shaking with restraint. Immediately after Drifter left his arms, Arthur bowed, keeping his trembling hands firmly on the ground while his gaze was locked on Drifter.

Amir abruptly burst halfway through the door. He wasn't there long. After a gasp choaked with grief he stumbled back into the kitchen. Each of his subsequent breathes came in rapid succession. He clutched his chest and dropped to his knees before doubling over. Aoi didn't need to go through the destroyed door to guess who lay in the darkness on the other side. The only thing she could think to do was attempting to calm Amir down through her own tears.

Lettie froze as Drifter's cold, dead weight settled into her arms. Holding them let reality finally worm it's way into the war hardened medic. She couldn't remember the last time she had been this close to Drifter. Even before they disappeared, she had been too busy. Regret haunted her now. Lettie swallowed back her tears as she lay Drifter supine on the floor. She made sure to cushion their headwound, and grabbed their wrist as soon as her hands were free. No radial pulse. She couldn't stop her hands from trembling. Arthur made a sound like a wounded animal, burying his head into his hands before prostrating before them.

Lettie felt as though she were being squeezed in a vice, hardly able to breath or to think. She struggled to act. CPR? Pointless, unless Amir could assist. Regardless she doubted he could control his electrical output precisely enough to be anything but harmful. Beyond that, she knew it wouldn't work for Drifter. La Flaca was never supposed to come for them. Perhaps this was their final dance, and something about this horrible ship let La Flaca embrace Drifter at last. There was one last hope. She lay her head on Drifter's chest and waited.

Time limped, dragging the seconds along. All Lettie could hear was Arthur's broken keening and the sobs from beyond the door. Then...a beat. It was weak and fragile, like a dying animal's final spasms, but it was there. A heartbeat, but no breathing. Without any relief she rose and whispered,

"...heartbeat."

Lettie's words rippled across each member of the Hex. There was silence as they considered this fragile hope. In that silence Lettie retrieved a well-used bag mask, designed to collapse to fit in her kit. With practiced ease, she expanded the bag, fitted the mask over Drifter's nose and mouth, then administered carefully measured breaths, all before Amir sped into the room. Aoi and Eleanor were quick to join. Each of them fought the urge to try to help Drifter, they knew not to act without direction from their medic.

Lettie was deaf to their relief and cautious laughter. The only time she tore her attention away from the steady rise and fall of Drifter's chest was to exchange a look with Eleanor. In that look was a thought barely put into words. It made Eleanor freeze as she entered the room, her eyes locked on Drifter in horror. While pursing her lips, Lettie carefully repositioned Drifter's bleeding head onto her lap while maintaining the steady flow of air into their lungs. Aoi couldn't resist scooping up Drifter's hand and squeezing it with the hopes to convey some reassurance to her hurt friend. It was obvious that Amir was trying not to disturb Lettie, but he was unable to stand still. He quietly paced the room. After a moment of quick planning Lettie spoke in a strained, quiet voice,

"I need Quincy."

Still holding Drifter's hand Aoi immediately shot a confused look at Lettie. "What about..?" As she spoke, her gaze shifted to Arthur, who was still kneeling beside Drifter. Maybe it was the confusing flood of anger burning through his psyche, but he had barely reacted to the news Drifter was still alive. As Aoi watched, he suddenly tensed, hissing and gritting his teeth, his eyes slowly taking on a purple glow. He was fighting Eleanor. Aoi looked on in horror, then she shot up, turning to face Eleanor and Lettie, voice rising in anger,

"What's going on?! This...this isn't right! He needs to be here for Drifter. Drifter needs-"

Lettie snapped, "You don't know what Drifter needs! You think they need Arthur? Like this?!" She gestured to the mutilated door. Aoi flinched, it made Lettie's anger wither and she took a deep breath before continuing as calmly as she could,

"Lo siento..." She swallowed hard thinking fast, "...even in good times, doctors shouldn't treat family. I am no doctor but Babas...they are too close to mi corazón. Quincy is the closest we have to someone...objective."

Aoi bit her lip and glanced back and forth between Lettie and Eleanor. In her heart she knew something wasn't right. It made her mind race to the worst scenarios. Her suspicion deepened when Eleanor refused to make eye contact with her. They were keeping something from the rest of the Hex. Aoi knew it must be something terrible but she also trusted them. They had to have a good reason for this. Fighting against her gut feeling, she wrapped her arms around herself before sitting on one of the beds. The walls around the bed were covered in childish drawings and she distracted herself by getting lost in a young Drifter's imagination.

It took a moment, but at Eleanor's beckoning Quincy squeezed through the door. Unable to stand by and do nothing, he had gathered dry branches. Upon entering he immediately tossed the kindling to the side. The scene before him was bleak. Drifter's blood was oozing slowly from their head and down Lettie's legs, where they lay. Crouched behind them was Arthur, glowing eyes, and positioned like a predator prepared to fight to defend what was his. In the corner closest to the door was Eleanor, refusing to face the room. Amir was pacing back and forth, fighting to stay silent. Despite the steady purple glow in his eyes, Arthur was tense with the desire to attack. It took fighting against every self-preservation instinct Quincy had to crouch by Drifter's side opposite to Arthur.

Quincy stared blankly at Drifter. They looked like shit. He was really good at fucking people up but he didn't know the first thing about putting them back together. Fortunately, Lettie did. She shoved the bag into one of his hands and positioned his other hand to seal the mask over Drifter's nose and mouth. "Slowly, every six seconds. Make sure their head is tilted back and their chest rises.", she instructed him calmly while addressing Drifter's headwound.

As Lettie treated Drifter's injuries, the minutes passed in tense silence. Until Amir couldn't stay quiet any longer, and spoke in a very strained voice, "Couldn't we just...kill Drifter?"

The reaction was immediate. Arthur lurched in his direction before being wrenched back by Eleanor. Aoi voiced her protest but Amir was quick to defend his position. This wasn't an impulsive thought. It wasn't like normal murder, Drifter had infinite revives. They would come back. All healed and healthy. No suffering necessary. He wasn't listening to anything Aoi said. Quincy remained calm. He quietly passed Lettie the bag mask before rising and approaching Amir. For a very tense moment Amir was absolutely sure Quincy would punch him. Instead Quincy handed Amir his pistol and stepped aside, giving him a clear shot at Drifter.

Amir didn't even have to raise the gun. The second the weapon was in his hands he realized he couldn't do it. He couldn't kill Drifter. Even if it meant sparing them from pain and suffering. It wasn't even the fact that he couldn't stomach it. If he killed Drifter and by some sick twist of fate or circumstance, they stayed dead... Amir didn't even want to consider that possibility. With his head cleared of that thought another one took its place. Why didn't Drifter kill themself? It would have been easier than dragging themself back to their home. They had to have a reason...right?

Amir curled into himself and dropped the pistol, hiding his face from the others. Without a word, Quincy retrieved his pistol and returned to Drifter's side.

Perhaps it was because Eleanor's stressed and sorrowful mood was flooding the room, but tears came easily to each of them as the tense minutes passed. Memories of better times with Drifter floated in and out of their minds like waves on a changing tide. Even Lettie and Quincy were not spared from the occasional tear running a fresh streak down their dirty, bloodstained faces. When Lettie was satisfied with her work, she brushed Drifter's hair from their face in an act of rare tenderness, before turning and nodding toward Eleanor. Lettie's voice was stiff and terse, "I can't keep breathing for Babas forever. We need supplies."

Aoi was the first to speak, "I'll scout the area with Quincy and Amir."

"No. I need Quincy. Everyone else has to go."

"Arthur should-"

"No."

Aoi set her jaw, "Well, Quincy should still go because he's better at reconnaissance than-"

"Quincy is going blind."

"What?!"

Aoi, Amir, and even Arthur all turned to look at Quincy, who directed his betrayal toward Lettie. She refused to look at him and instead spoke to the others, "There had to be someplace to treat the sick. Find it. We'll take Drifter there."

There wasn't much else that needed to be said for Amir to leave. He was desperate to find a way to redeem himself and to help Drifter. After he left Aoi moved to follow but ended up standing before Lettie, trembling with contained rage and breathing heavily. It was incredibly hard to trust her and Eleanor right now with all the secrets they were keeping. With a deep breath, Aoi resigned herself to leaving. She would demand an explanation later, when Drifter was stable.

Arthur did not move.

All of Eleanor's focus was on her brother but he still didn't budge. Motionless, he kneeled before Drifter. His eyes never left them even as they burned with Eleanor's control. Eleanor dropped to her knees next to him, grabbed his shoulders, and forced him to look at her. She begged, Please Arthur. Please.

He took one final look at Drifter, before closing his eye and succumbing to his sister's will. They left. Lettie waited until she was sure they were far enough away before releasing a shuddering sob and bending over Drifter. She was barely able to speak through her tears but still lamented her friend in her native tongue. Quincy could wade through gallons of blood and not falter, but seeing Lettie's tears got to him in a way nothing else could. He stared at Drifter's chest rising and falling, with each of the breaths he forced into them with increasing dread. Had he been pumping air into a dead body? It was awhile before Lettie calmed down. Quincy was barely clinging to his sanity. His voice was a strained hiss as he spoke, "You gonna explain what this is all about?"

Lettie's voice carried her exhaustion in a quiet whisper, "What is the leading cause of death on a battlefield?"

There was a moment of incredulous silence from Quincy. Now, of all times, Lettie was quizzing him? He couldn't help a snarl as he spoke, "Bloodloss?"

"Sí. The second?"

"Don't know, burns?"

"No. Obstructed airway."

Quincy glanced down at Drifter, then back at Lettie, "Hell of a time for a lesson."

"Ey, escúchame cabron. I'm telling you this because I need you to trust that I've seen this...", she gestured down to Drifter, "...too many times."

Silence fell over the both of them as Lettie took a few deep breaths and Quincy's intense focus zeroed in on her. When she spoke again, she stumbled, struggling to find the right words, "When someone doesn't get enough air...La Flaca... sometimes... doesn't take...everything. The mind is gone...they're gone...but the body lingers."

Sudden dread shot through Quincy. He laid a trembling hand on Lettie's shoulder. His voice was dangerous and low, "Lettie. Why'd you want me here?"

Lettie bent her head low over Drifter. Her tears fell onto their face. Unable to make eye contact with Quincy, she whispered, "You're the only one."

"No."

"Imagine what it would do to Arthur. Aoi. Amir?"

Quincy snarled, "Do it yourself."

"¡Te ruego! Mi pobrecito Babas- I can't!"

"You think Drifter was nothing to me?!"

"They might not be there! ¡Hueco! A husk!"

"...might...might as in you ain't sure?", Quincy buried his face in his hands, "Fuck. Lettie. You're askin' me this and you ain't sure?"

"There are some tests I can do...but the line is blurry. Especially for Drifter. At what point do we try to save what is left or hope they come back?"

There was no answer to that question. Quincy stared at the twinkling solar system model floating above their heads. It wasn't as if he had never considered the possibility that he might have to kill Drifter. He always pictured it on a battlefield, as a mercy, with Drifter begging him to. Even then he doubted he could do it. Early on when he imagined killing Drifter it was, in now ridiculous scenarios, where it turned out they were working for Entrati the whole time. Quincy took a deep breath and dared to look at Drifter. Motionless. Unable to give him the go ahead to shoot them in the head. His hands trembled as they held the mask, questioning if there was even a point to it anymore. Lettie took his trembling hands and set the mask over Drifter's face again.

They attempted to switch positions so Lettie could perform her tests. It was awkward trying to get Drifter's head on Quincy's lap. His knees just didn't bend that way. Quincy was relieved. He didn't think he could stomach being so close to Drifter with what they were considering. They opted to cushion Drifter's head with bedding. Then Quincy returned to giving respirations.

First test. Penlight. Lettie opened one of Drifter's eyes and shone the light into it. She froze when Drifter's pupils did not constrict but reflected the light back. Suddenly Lettie felt like she was on her first mission again. Her years of experience and training disappeared with a single haunting revelation. Drifter wasn't human. At least not human enough. She had never thought to establish a baseline for them. Even after years of knowing them, she had no idea what their normal was. The room spun. Drifter had never come to her for help. Not once. Worse, she had never questioned it, never noticed, never even offered a check-up. Everyone else was dying all around her and Drifter slipped so easily into the background. Drifter never got hurt, never got the sick, and never asked for help. For years. It wasn't possible. Lettie began to shake as she considered how many times they must have hidden something from her.

Hands still shaking, Lettie swapped the penlight for a needle. Her trembling hands cut Drifter's palm when she only intended a quick jab. There was no reaction, not even a twitch. Lettie stared at the bleeding wound she inflicted and gained no information from it. Drifter could be gone, but it was also possible that they lacked a typical pain response and Lettie never knew. Nausea choked her. How many times had she chided Drifter for wasting her time or asking stupid questions? She knew Drifter had taken it to heart after the first few conversations they had. It was only now, with them dying in her arms, she realized her relationship to Drifter had been reduced to them fetching her coffee or supplies and little more. How small had they made themself to fit into her life? Desperately she poked their other hand and bare feet with the needle. Drifter didn't flinch.

In a move that was more desperation than anything else, Lettie swatted away Quincy's hands and the mask before shoving her fingers to the back of Drifter's throat. The reaction was immediate. Drifter gagged, their whole body jerked. Lettie was caught somewhere between crying and laughing as she held Drifter's head in her hands,

"You stayed! You stayed with us."

Relief was dizzying, it took nearly everything Quincy had to stay upright. He focused on Drifter's closed, sunken, eyes as he pressed the mask back over their mouth. The thought of Drifter's death at his hands lingered. He didn't dare to hope it would be the last time that terrible duty would fall onto him.

Chapter Text

Aoi was furious. Eleanor and Lettie were keeping secrets. Amir thought murdering their best friend was a good idea. Arthur was being an asshole, even before he attempted to go on a Quincy killing spree. The only member of the Hex she didn't have a problem with was Quincy, despite his idiocy in attempting to hide the fact he was going blind. Aoi was desperately trying to empathize with everyone. It was easy for her to understand why they were acting the way they were. This ship sucked. It was scary and confusing, which brought out the worst in everyone. Regardless, knowing why they were being jerks didn't make Aoi feel any better about it.

The four of them walked the dilapidated halls of the Zariman in terse silence. Vaguely, and without discussion, they attempted to choose paths they hadn't walked before. Aoi was so completely absorbed in her own thoughts that she jumped when Amir grabbed her arm.

"Waitwaitwait...", As Amir spoke, he glanced around, making sure everyone had stopped. When he was sure he had everyone's attention, and that they had no intention of leaving him alone, he made his way back to a cracked glass panel that the rest of them had unwittingly passed.

"I bet this is some sort of directory maybe-", he was interrupted by the panel
suddenly coming to life at his approach and a flickering spherical object appeared within the glass. It's voice glitched and stuttered wildly,

"W-w-w-where is is is yo--o-our Zariman ACACACacolad--d--de?

Amir took a brief moment to study the machine before speaking in the most commanding voice he could muster, "Computer! Direct us to Sickbay."

"DIREct- YOUrrr attttt-atte-atte-atte-"

"Not that again. Where is med bay? Medical? Medic? Hossspital?"

The sphere somehow seemed to focus on Arthur, "Student. O-o-officccccccer?"

Amir glanced back at Arthur, an idea forming in his head rapidly as he spoke,
"Yesss. Student. One of your students is hurt. Where do we take them?"

It amazed Amir when the sphere on screen seemed to be displaying emotion. Somehow this projection, that looked just about as human as a rock, seemed distressed and concerned. It flickered out of existence. Amir immediately started studying the cracked glass and surrounding device in an attempt to get it to work again. He had just found an access port and was preparing to parazon it, when from far down a distant corridor a soft, mechanical voice called,

"P-p-please."

The Hex rushed down the hall to a half destroyed glass panel, barely able to display the flickering sphere. As soon as they arrived, it went dark, and from far off they could hear another one calling to them. So they went. Down twisting dark halls, following a voice glitching in and out of existence until they arrived at what they could only guess was a Sickbay.

Amir approached the doors as they opened while turned to face the rest of the Hex, "Yes! Hahahaha! Success!"

No one else looked happy. Amir turned to look into the Sickbay, and his heart plummeted. Everything was absolutely trashed. There wasn't an inch of floor that wasn't covered in glass from shattered displays or broken containers. Every bit of machinery was absolutely gutted with dead cords hanging from the ceiling and spilling from the walls. What wasn't destroyed was barren, marked by empty shelves and hollow containers. Worse still, they could see shadows shifting and pawing at windows in each of the adjoining rooms. Amir looked absolutely defeated, Aoi could only offer a comforting hand on his shoulder.

Willed by some vague sense of hope or sheer frustration from their wasted effort, they ventured inside. In silence they dispersed and half-heartedly picked at their ruined surroundings. Absolutely nothing was salvageable. Occasionally they would hopefully examine an object, only to find it defiled in one way or another.

As they hopelessly scavenged, Eleanor heard a voice so faint it may have been a figment of her imagination. Regardless of if it was a trick of the mind, it was a voice she hadn't heard in years and one she missed dearly. Unable to resist, she followed it with Arthur shadowing her. The corridor they were beckoned to grew darker as they traversed. Silver curls of void energy unfurled over windows with shadows clawing at the glass, desperate to be unleashed. Enrobed in silver spirals was a hooded figure, motionless. As Eleanor stared a voice emerged from the desolate void of its face. It was Christopher. He needed help. Her hand was already reaching toward the figure when a warning echoed through her mind. Void Angel. Drifter's fear when speaking that name was palpable. The memory snapped the tether leading her on. Eleanor managed to pull herself away. Unfortunately she wasn't the only one beckoned here.

It wasn't Christopher that Arthur heard. His song was the sound of Drifter's nightmares. They would whimper and cry out while they thrashed, grabbing anything in reach like someone drowning might grab a life preserver. The first time he heard it, he made the mistake of waking Drifter up abruptly. They were utterly confused, lost, and terrified beyond reason. They struggled and fought against Arthur, screaming until they passed out. In the morning they had no memory of what had happened. Arthur had witnessed hundreds of their nightmares since. The only thing that seemed to help was resting his hand on them and waiting. That's exactly what he intended to do here. This was a nightmare. If he could just wake them up, the nightmare would end. Everything would go back to the way they were before. Before Eleanor could stop him he touched the Angel.

It SCREAMED.

The coils of void scarring twisted over the fragile windows as the angel came to life. One by one the windows shattered, releasing the shadows within. As they emerged from the broken glass their shadowy features formed eyes and teeth. They became something from a half remembered nightmare. Amalgamations of human features blurred together in horrid agony. Eleanor was already running. She turned expecting to see her brother right behind her. He wasn't. Like a dumbass hero, he stood with his sword drawn. The Angel before him and the shadows swarming on every side like a swelling tide threatening to swallow him. The thought of witnessing her brother's stupid heroic end drowned Eleanor in agony. She screeched a command to anyone who would listen,

NO!! RUN!

Arthur turned toward her. There was a moment where time seemed to slow. He hesitated. Maybe it was the look on his face or her lifetime of memories of him, but she knew he was prepared to make some moronic, noble sacrifice so she could escape unscathed. He closed his eye and made a choice. In a blur he dashed to her side. She grabbed him before running down the corridor.

As they fled the sound of shattering glass trailed behind them, releasing more and more nightmare creatures to pursue them. Eleanor knew these shadows lacked minds that she could control. Everything useful about her had been stripped away aboard the Zariman. The only use she had was to reign her bloodthirsty brother in. She would laugh if she weren't already crying. The windows shattered ahead of them, trapping them thoroughly. With desperation she released chaos and confusion onto the nightmares. There was a brief moment of relief when her ability worked. Then absolute horror as the creatures turned on themselves. Biting with their exposed teeth. Clawing with bloody fingers. Somehow in the carnage they grew more and more human. They were tearing themselves apart. Gnawing on their own flesh and sinew. Gouging each other open until their bones glinted in the void light. Eleanor stared in horror at what she had wrought. There were no more monsters. Only people, mutilating themselves at her behest.

This time it was Eleanor who froze. The Void Angel was unbothered by the carnage. As it advanced it's elegant blade-like limbs cleanly sliced through the mob, adding to the gore. Like a messenger from the gods Amir appeared before them, wasting only a second as he witnessed the horrible scene. Unfettered, he pulled them both away. No one would be left behind. As soon as they had retreated out of the Sickbay, where Aoi was waiting, she forced metal structures to fold over the door. Eleanor fell to her knees, cradling her head in her hands. Completely forgetting her earlier anger, Aoi immediately rushed to hug Eleanor.

Amir kicked a chunk of rubble into the door in sheer frustration. The resulting metallic bang made everyone jump. Barely controlled fury drowned Amir's voice, "All that. All that for nothing." He turned to the others. All of Arthur's attention was on the door, sword still unsheathed. Aoi and Eleanor were huddled on the floor. For the first time he saw the guilty look on Eleanor's face. With dawning realization he spoke quietly, "That was the point. Wasn't it? To waste time. Get us away from Drifter."

Aoi pulled away from Eleanor, realization hitting her hard, "Eleanor. What did you do?"

Lettie wanted to spare you all.

That was all the confirmation Aoi needed. She leapt up, abandoning Eleanor on the ground, "From murdering Drifter?!"

It's more complicated than that...

"You made it complicated! I would want to be there! I thought you of all people would have known."

Amir cut in, seething, "Of course a medbay would of been the first thing to be destroyed in a disaster like this. Lettie would know that. You both could of gotten us killed and for what? To spare our feewings?"

No...please...I-we...

Anger had poisoned everyone. They had all turned against Eleanor. Her heart pounded in her ears. Each beat sent blinding pain rippling across her nervous system. There wasn't much more she could take. Tears ran down her face, she didn't know if they were from her friends' anger, the heartache of losing Drifter, constant fear, or from the migraine that was tearing her brain apart. She could barely see though the tears but she could not mistake Arthur advancing on her. Sword drawn. The worst of her nightmares coming true. Maybe it was the anger from Drifter fueling him or maybe this was just the point of no return. The final betrayal. She could hear 'You're not my sister anymore' echoing in her mind. Still on the ground, she tried to crawl back from him, but only succeeded in giving him a clean shot of her heart. She raised an arm in a folly of defense. There was a metallic scrape as his sword slid against the ground.

Arthur wrapped one of his arms around her and pulled her into as tight of a hug as he could manage while still grasping his sword. For a second Eleanor thought he might be positioning her to stab her in the back, but his sword remained pointed away from her. His ragged breathing into her shoulder made it obvious he was still angry. Even now, with his mind half lost to rage, he could not hurt her. Arthur still loved her. Eleanor broke down and sobbed in her brother's arms.

The screech of claws being buried into metal from the other side of the door made it very clear that now was the time to flee. Arthur dragged Eleanor to her feet. The physical and emotional exhaustion reduced them to a crawl. It was unbearable for Amir to move that slowly, especially when he knew what Lettie and Eleanor where scheming. He had to stop it. Not just for Drifter's sake, but for Quincy and Lettie's too. Every few steps he would glance down the corridor, jittering with anticipation. Then he caught sight of Arthur. The clotting wound on his shoulder. His eye. Amir stayed.

It felt like hours but they managed to make it back to Drifter's old home. As soon as the door was in sight Amir sped off. His mind fabricated the worst possible scenarios he could uncover. Instead he returned to a scene very much like the one he left, with Drifter was just as alive as he had left them. His sudden entrance startled Lettie and Quincy. Lettie was the first to speak, "Did you manage to find any supplies?"

Lettie's casual tone enraged Amir and he hissed through clenched teeth, "As if you give a damn."

"¿Qué?"

"You... you sent us on fool's errand! We could have gotten killed because of you!"

"Is someone hurt?!"

Lettie slowly rose from Drifter's side, her aching legs trembled from the exertion after being still for so long. She attempted to examine Amir for wounds. Amir batted her arms away, "You knew that med bay would be destroyed, didn't you?! Sent us away, just so you could murder Drifter in peace!"

"¿¡Que?! No! I-"

The clatter of the others entering the Dormizone distracted them for a second, giving Quincy a moment to speak, "You're one to talk, a sec ago you were all for killin' Drifter."

"Yeah! And you showed me that was a phenomenally stupid idea! Let me return the favor!"

At that moment Arthur wrenched the broken door open further. It protested with a horrible screech. Arthur shoved his way through, nearly toppling Amir over as he pushed aside anyone who stood in his way. Quincy immediately leapt up at his approach but when Arthur didn't move to attack or even acknowledge him, Quincy returned to delivering respirations to Drifter.

Amir was still fuming. He paced back and forth staring at Drifter and muttering. Lettie could feel exhaustion seep into every bone and muscle in her body. They hadn't really rested since arriving. There was no way to tell time. No sunlight, no working clocks, only the constant void. They had wandered dark halls for what felt like hours. Yet, none of them looked tired. If anything they looked as bright eyed as they had when they first arrived. Lettie studied Amir, though he didn't look it, he was certainly acting like he hadn't slept in days. Everyone was. She struggled to think of how to fix this.

This is why she worked so well with Arthur. She could identify a problem, see a solution and Arthur would deal with getting people to follow. A quick glance at Arthur, trembling as he bent over Drifter, informed her of his mental state. He was not in the right mind to lead. Lettie turned to her second in command. She could see Aoi through the door, she was helping Eleanor to a bench. As Lettie pleaded silently for assistance, Aoi shot her the most withering look she had ever seen from her friend. It took Lettie by surprise. She felt utterly alone in this. One way or another she had to make everyone to get some rest. First step was to somehow calm them down, starting with Amir. Lettie took a deep breath and strained her voice to keep it as nonconfrontational as possible, "I had no reason to think the med bay would be destroyed."

"Bullshit."

Calm. She had to keep calm. It was really fucking hard, she hissed through clenched teeth, "Sabes...Amir...even in warzones hospitals are typically left alone. There was no reason-"

Aoi suddenly spoke, stepping into the bedroom, "Regardless, you were still planning to kill Drifter. Without us. You can't just make a decision like that on your own!"

Lettie's sad attempt at remaining calm was slipping rapidly, "They might of been dead already. Gone in every way but physical. I didn't want you- I didn't want anyone to have to make that choice!"

The revelation about the med bay had made Amir lay off for a moment, but now he was back in full force, "You took that choice away from us. Away from Drifter!! Did you ever stop to consider what they might want?! You were so eager to kill them you didn't think about why they didn't kill themself!"

"You don't know what Drifter needs!"

"You don't either!!"

Quincy, who had been watching quietly the whole time spoke up as softly as he could while rising from Drifter's side, "Lettie...maybe step out a sec? Take a breath?"

"No."

Aoi put her hand on Lettie's shoulder, "He's right. We all need to cool down. Just leave Drifter with us for a bit."

"No!"

"You've gotta trust us.", Aoi pulled Lettie backwards, toward the door, with perhaps a little more force than she intended. Lettie snapped.

"I WILL NEVER LET DRIFTER SUFFER ALONE AGAIN."

As if created by those words, a delicate strand of light spiraled from Lettie's chest connecting her to Drifter. It passed through Arthur. He collapsed the moment the light touched him, toppling to the ground. Simultaneously, Drifter took a deep, shuttering breath.

Chapter Text

Arthur was having an unusual nightmare. He was home, in bed. The backrooms were warm, at least warmer than the Zariman. Everything was bathed in early morning sunlight. It would be a dream, if it weren't for the pain. It felt as if every inch of his body was covered in week-old injuries. He had endured enough to know the pain of partially healed burns, cuts and bruises. It wasn't debilitating, but it was enough to make him reluctant to get up. He turned, trying to get comfortable. Odd. He was on the wrong side of the bed.

His eyes caught a shaft of light spilling from the window, he raised a hand to block it. It wasn't his hand. It was strange and segmented, like a marionette's. Only the segments didn't match quite match the joints and looked more like a porcelain doll's that had been shattered over and over again. The broken pieces were stitched together by strings that looked like void energy. He blinked, trying to focus, but the hand shifted before his eyes. It became something soft and human. This was Drifter's hand. The broken, shattered flesh was gone, but he could still feel it. Each unseen crack and segment sent a ripple of pain as he moved. Especially the center of their right palm. He ran his thumb against the intact and unmarred hand. There was an indent that perfectly accommodated his sword, unseen but felt. A constant, ever present reminder of their first meeting.

"Love, breakfast is served!"

His own voice called from below. Gods, that was bloody weird. Arthur could feel his consciousness slip as he became a mere passenger to this experience. There was no way they were moving. The pain was really bad today, Arthur could afford them a few minutes more.

"It's getting cold!"

A flicker of resentment welled up inside them. They sighed. They got up. The Arthur riding along in Drifter's body was unprepared for the pain. He could feel each fragment of Drifter's shattered flesh clipping and scraping against each other with each movement. Arthur was waiting downstairs. Throwing themselves over the balcony, just to get it over with, seemed like the best option. Drifter, in an act of self-flagellation, chose to go down the stairs.

Arthur watched himself clear off space on a corner of the table to set down a few plates and mugs. He remembered this moment. This was the last morning that Arthur had seen Drifter before they disappeared. He had replayed this day's events over and over again in his mind. Their last breakfast together, and it was powdered egg omelettes. He had wished for something better, but at least the rehydrated eggs were easy to cut and shape into the perfect little cubes Drifter exclusively ate. Drifter saw that sad little meal in a completely different light. They were delighted and immensely grateful for the omelette. It was something familiar and easy to eat. Perfect for a day like this.

It was jarring for Arthur to be torn so thouroughly from his point of view. Looking at himself through Drifter's eyes was particularly strange. Maybe it was the way the sunlight was hitting him, or simply the angle at which Drifter saw him but damn...he looked good. Drifter saw him as a whole, neglecting to focus on his flaws and instead choosing to love every part of him.

Smile.

The thought startled Arthur, he saw himself glance toward Drifter's direction, with a harried almost uninterested expression

Smile or he'll think something's wrong.

They forced a little smile. Arthur returned to eating the scraps from cubing the omelette with the speed of someone eating purely for survival. Drifter took their time, as usual. Carefully cutting the omelette cubes into smaller squares. Straight lines and perfect angles every time. Drifter stared at their Arthur, who was shoveling eggs into their mouth mechanically while checking the messages on his KinePage.

Tell him.

He'd hate me if he knew.

Drifter was fighting with themself, their inner thoughts twisted in turmoil. The world seemed to darken at the edges, focusing in on Arthur as he grimaced his way through breakfast.

He deserves to know. Tell him.

I don't want to be alone.

Tell him. You can't keep it secret forever.

Drifter opened their mouth. At that moment, Arthur stood up, barely looking at Drifter while he spoke, "I'm on duty, I'll see you tonight."

He left. Arthur reeled at the memory. That couldn't be right. He just... left Drifter? Without a hug or even a quick peck? Had he taken the time they had together so lightly he hadn't bothered with a proper goodbye? He could feel anger rising in Drifter, not just at Arthur's carelessness but at themself.

Coward.

From somewhere beyond this memory a soft, scared voice whispered, "Wake up."

No. Drifter was alone with their half-finished omelette, and the only thing Arthur had left them with was dirty dishes.

"Please wake up."

He could feel the memory dissolve away as he drifted in and out of consciousness.

Drifter was alone.

In pain.

Angry.

And Arthur was leaving them again.

The dream was still gripping at the edge of his consciousness. It left him in the foggy place between wakefulness and sleep.

"I had a nightmare."

It was that scared little voice again. It sounded vaguely familiar. His half-awake brain filled in the gaps. He could barely speak, but managed a gravely whisper,

"Eleanor?"

"I'm scared, can I go to bed with you?

Arthur managed an affirmative grunt before trying to move over. There was someone else already there. His thoughts inched along as he processed the shape next to him. Immediately his mind jumped to Drifter, but the sleek, straight hair told him otherwise. He blinked. Eleanor was already sharing the bed with him. He whipped back around to see a phantom of Drifter past. The little girl. The once lovingly braided curls were now plastered to her pale and blood streaked face. Her left eye was swollen and bruised, the sclera of it was dark with blood completing her haunted appearance. Arthur flinched and immediately regretted it. Tears welled up in her eyes and she fled, disappearing into the darkness. He stumbled after her. His damaged throat choked on words of comfort and pleas for her to stay, but she was gone.

He fell out of the bed, but managed to catch himself just before he landed on top of Lettie. Ever the dutiful medic, she had been sleeping on the floor underneath her patients. The beds had been stripped of all blankets and most of the pillows to make the floor at least marginally more comfortable for her. Lettie cracked open one exhausted eye just to glower at him before turning to try to get back to sleep. The other bed hosted Drifter. Arthur scrambled awkwardly over Lettie to get to them.

The sheer joy he felt at seeing them breathe was indescribable. He rested his head on their chest, reveling in the sound of their stronger heartbeat and breathing. They were alive. He fumbled for their hand. When he found it, he held onto it tight. Their slight warmth put his troubles to rest. For a moment. The moment passed. He pressed the pad of his thumb into the palm of the hand he held. The unseen scar of their first meeting was still there. It wasn't just a dream.

Arthur's thoughts spiraled as he stared at Drifter's face. Secrets. Lies. Pain. It plagued him with doubt. He couldn't make sense of any of this. Everything he knew and loved about Drifter was being chipped away. He was sure of only one thing. Drifter loved him. Gently, he kissed their hand before placing it over their heart. He lingered with them for a little while more, as if he were expecting answers to leap from their still lips.

Mind full of tumultuous thoughts, he wandered into the kitchen. The rest of the Hex had camped there. Immediately Quincy shot to his feet, a parody of a good soldier. Evidently he had been keeping watch. His hand was hovering over his dagger. One look from Arthur and he backed down. They were both mindful of making noise. Everyone needed rest. Aoi had claimed the bench to sleep on and Arthur got a little sting jealousy seeing Amir sleeping upright on a chair. He was completely unbothered despite his neck craning in such a way that Arthur could feel phantom pains and stiffness just from looking at him. Of course he could sleep anywhere and in any position. Lucky bastard. Arthur turned to Quincy and tried to speak. It took effort to summon words past his damaged throat and when they emerged it was little more than a scratchy whisper, "Anything to report?"

"Plenty. Could write a fuckin' book, but I'm savin' it for a better audience," as Quincy spoke he eyed Arthur cautiously, "You uh...still angry?"

"No...sorry 'bout...all that."

Quincy visibly relaxed with Arthur's reply. They stood in awkward silence for a moment before Quincy spoke again, "Are we...ok?"

Arthur looked a little taken aback, "...yeah?"

"No," Quincy gestured between himself and Drifter, barely visible in the other room, "are we ok?"

"Oh...no...but you knew that, yeah?"

"Didn't think they wanted me dead!"

"...that wasn't all them."

"So you and I got beef?"

"Just as much as before."

"What now, do I gotta sleep with one eye open and a knife under my pillow?"

"Neither of us want you dead, Quincy. Things got out of control. I...couldn't handle both mine and Drifter's anger."

Quincy sighed and leaned back against the shelves. He rubbed his eyes before glancing at Drifter, "I fucked things right up with them didn't I."

"We're all alive. We have a chance to fix things."

A very tired, unhappy voice berated them from the other room, "So happy to hear you cabrones are alive but I'll change that if you wake me up again. Get some rest. Now."

Apparently they had woken Aoi as well, who silently signaled to Quincy that she would take over his watch. Quincy settled onto the bench while Arthur returned to the next room. He lingered by Drifter's side. The same doubts from before resurfaced and floated through his mind. He was tempted to join Drifter in bed. Not that it would improve his chances on actually going to sleep. Just the opposite. He predicted spending the next few hours lying next to them in quiet contemplation. Staring at the ceiling, trying to figure out exactly who 'Drifter' was. He kissed their bandaged head and backed away. Drifter was injured. Arthur would serve them better well rested, away from them. He joined his sister in the other bed.

The only bedding that had not been claimed by Lettie was a pillow currently supporting Drifter's shattered skull. Despite that, the bed was still more comfortable than anything the rest of the Hex had to sleep on. Eleanor had jammed herself against the wall giving Arthur just enough room to avoid touching her if he lay on his side. He did just that. Staring at the door facing the beds, with his arm crooked under his head.

Arthur's thoughts wandered as he tried to sleep. Had Drifter been staring at that door? Despite their injuries, they hadn't curled up on one of the beds, which would have been Arthur's first instinct. He found them on the floor facing the door. Another missing puzzle piece in his fragmented image of Drifter. He stared at the door as his mind wandered between sleep and a flock of questions prancing through his thoughts like sheep.

The door moved. Leaves grew from the tiny opening, creeping into the room and inching the door open. As the door crept open, light spilled from the other side. It was warm and bright, a noticeable difference from the sickly glow of the void. Someone silhouetted by the light cast a shadow into the room and began to pry open the door further. Arthur bolted upright. Only now did he realize he had been separated from his sword. The figure managed to pry open the doors before collapsing into the room in a shower of green leaves.

Arthur hadn't recognized them at first, but it was yet another vision of Drifter. Early teens this time. Awkward and gangly, they hadn't quiet grown into themselves. Arthur slipped out of bed. Somehow Drifter had managed to open the door without a sound and without waking anyone else up. Drifter curled against the wall, trembling. They looked frightened and confused. Arthur kneeled next to them. They were wearing something that looked like a Grecian tunic. It was red. Everything was red. They bled from a wound in their naval that pierced them through, staining their white tunic in blood. Too much blood. Trembling hands desperately tried to stem the flow of blood. It was no use.

Drifter started muttering to themselves, "It's ok. It's ok. He didn't mean it," They stared at their blood drenched hand in disbelief, "...tomorrow I'll apologize and...and everything will go back to normal."

At a loss of what else to do, Arthur pressed his hands against the wound as well. It felt real. The warm blood oozed between his fingers. He fought the urge to call for Lettie. This was just a dream. A memory. This wasn't real. Lettie couldn't help. He could feel Drifter's eyes on him, but he focused on his hands as they slowly became inundated with blood. Losing the strength to support themself, Drifter began to slide onto the floor. They whimpered a quiet plea, "I don't want to die alone." Unable to stop himself, Arthur glanced up and met Drifter's eyes. His heart collapsed under the realization of what this moment was. Their first death.

Arthur couldn't help but echo them, scrambling to find a way to offer them comfort, "It's ok. You'll be ok." A lie. They would live, but it wouldn't be OK. The pain, fear, confusion, and loneliness of this death would repeat. Over and over again. Until Drifter wouldn't be able to feel anything anymore. Arthur held them as they started to get colder and colder. They were still so small, he hadn't realized how young they had been when the executions started.

"You're not alone. We're here with you," Someone whispered behind them. Arthur tensed, and his head snapped to the sound. It was Aoi, she was perched on the edge of Drifters bed, comforting it's occupant. Only now Arthur saw his Drifter writhing. He had been so preoccupied with the memory, he missed that they were suffering this nightmare as well. Aoi held their hand and comforted them. Under her care, Drifter seemed to relax and the bloody memory in Arthur's arms faded into a gentle shower of light with a rattling gasp. Arthur staggered over to Aoi and kneeled on the ground by Drifter's bed. He rested his head on their mattress, too exhausted in too many ways to care how vulnerable he looked.

"This happen a lot then?", Arthur's voice was a mere croak.

"...almost constantly since you passed out," Aoi sounded so tired. Arthur could tell she was on the verge of tears, "Always a different memory, some worse than others."

Arthur examined his clean, blood free hands in horrified reverie, "It felt real."

"It's real to them."

"I went to the wrong one..."

Aoi shook her head, "It seems to help either way...and I think it was better that we were both here."

It was a relief to hear that he hadn't made a mistake for once. He closed his eyes. Vaguely he was aware of Aoi joining his and Drifter's hands before stepping away. Slowly everything faded into darkness.

Chapter Text

There was a knock at the door. It was met with a terrified and frantic silence as the young Drifter and their sibling scrambled to ready for an attack. The boy grabbed a chair. His sister held a kitchen knife in her small hands like it was a sword. Another knock. Desperate and heavy this time. The two of them glanced at each other fearfully before the boy peered through a corner of the window, careful not to be seen. He immediately dropped the chair and ran to open the door. As soon as there was the slightest opening, the intruders forced it open the rest of the way. A large, brutish figure rushed in and grabbed the boy, lifting him into the air.

A great shuddering sob broke the tension as the assailant only embraced his target. The Hex breathed a sigh of relief. The knocking at the door had woken them. Quincy settled back down, and Aoi looked over the kids and spoke with a little hope in her voice, "A good memory this time?"

A handful of the boy's classmates stood outside the Dormizone, grasping makeshift weapons. Amir was quick to introduce them with the names he made up as they entered. Odd Eyes, Peach Fuzz, Dancer, and a kid he hadn't seen before who was younger than the rest. They sported a bloody bandage over one eye and was quickly dubbed Cyclops. It was Odd Eyes who had torn the door open and wrapped the boy in a suffocating embrace. Odd Eyes was bawling, and repeating in a soft, broken voice, "You're alive!" Over and over again. The boy looked alarmed and turned toward the others, silently pleading for answers. Cyclops obliged, carefully setting down a makeshift spear before awkwardly putting their hand on Odd Eye's shoulder.

"He.. hasn't been all there lately...", they explained in a gentle whisper. Peach Fuzz rolled his eyes disapprovingly at the scene. With a cocksure grin he turned to the girl, opening his mouth to say something but immediately snapped it shut when he saw she was still holding the knife. Dancer was quick to separate them, protectively putting herself in between the girl and Peach Fuzz. "My little sister is OK," Dancer spoke as she knelt down to the girl's eye level, "She's back at our camp in the Crysalith with a few more younger kids." They hugged as the little girl cried while thanking Dancer for keeping her friend safe in between sobs.

It took a while, but Cyclops managed to pry Odd Eyes off the boy. They walked to the shelves by the door, giving the boy a chance to breathe. Odd Eyes crouched on the floor with his face in his hands while Cyclops did their best to comfort him. They guided the much bigger teen through breathing exercises while rubbing circles on their back.

Dancer took the opportunity to pull the boy aside to speak quietly, "He had to...take care of his folks alone. It messed him up. Bad."

"Alone? What about-"

"His older brother went crazy too."

Despite their efforts to stay quiet the girl overheard. "Big kids can go crazy?", she glanced nervously at her older brother, "Big...brothers?"

Immediately Dancer smiled and kneeling to the little girl's eye level again, "He was really big. Waaaay older than your brother, basically a grown-up"

"Basically means he wasn't," the sharpness of the girl's tone made Dancer's smile falter.

There was a sudden crash and a wretched scream from the other room. Lettie, who had never left Drifter's side, positioned herself protectively in front of them. She drew her pistol and trained it on the door facing the beds. It was snapping open and shut menacingly, as if it had been the one to produce the scream. Unflinchingly, Lettie waited for a threat to appear from the darkness on the other side. It never came. The screams turned into pained moans before falling silent again.

Peach Fuzz was the first to speak, turning on the boy with a snarl, "You didn't kill them yet?!"

It snapped Odd Eyes out of his spiral. He approached the boy, suddenly very lucid and determined. "We'll do it," his voice was calm and gentle, "You don't have to. We'll take care of it."

"That's what we've been doing," Cyclops spoke softly, "We've saved other kids. It's dangerous to leave the adults alive so we been going around and..." They trailed off, a haunted expression overtaking them.

"They helped with mine and I've been returning the favor," Dancer spoke as she gave Cyclops' shoulders a gentle squeeze, "You shouldn't have to do this yourself. It...it isn't good...it changes you."

Surrounded by his friends, who were desperate to help, the boy looked relived. He let himself smile a bit as the tension that had been choking him unwound into a strangled laugh. This was his salvation.

"NO!"

The girl screamed wildly and charged in front of the bedroom, arms open wide as if she could fend off five armed teenagers twice her age and size. Fury made her tiny face red, it might have been cute if half her face wasn't already blackened with bruises. She screamed at them, "They love us! They're just sick!!! You can't kill sick people!"

Her rage and indignation made the teens doubt the nobility of their actions. They backed away. Their determination wavering with the thought of killing a little girl's parents as she wailed and pleaded for them to stop. The hope that had been holding her brother aloft snapped. He buried his face in his arm, barely disguising his tears.

"I'm sorry," Dancer's mumbled apology hung in the air as she turned and fled the Dormizone, unable to stop herself from crying. There was a second of hesitation from Cyclops as they glanced around the room, stricken with guilt, before following Dancer. Odd Eyes was fixated on the ground, refusing to face anyone. Slowly he wrapped his arms around the boy. They let themselves cry quietly with each other.

"Whatever happens. I'll be there for you. If you need anything we're at the Chrysalith," Odd Eye's voice was wavering and thick with sorrow, "I-I-I can't lose anyone else. Please. Take care of yourself." The boy couldn't speak, his eyes darted from his friends to his sister. Obviously torn. Odd Eyes reluctantly left, glancing back over his shoulder as he walked out the door. The siblings were alone with Peach Fuzz, who casually strolled over to Cyclops' forgotten spear. The boy was trying to calm down and was desperately gulping down air. Peach Fuzz grabbed him by his shoulder, pulling the taller boy down to his level. He hissed in the boy's ear, "A real man takes care of his own problems." With final shove, Peach Fuzz left. The memory dissolved with his departure, leaving Dormizone to the Hex.

Amir stretched slowly, working out the stiffness in his neck and shoulder from his less than ideal sleeping arrangement. He spoke with a yawn, "Is it wrong I'm starting to get kinda numb to this?"

Both emotionally and physically exhausted, the rest of the Hex only glanced at him impassively in quiet agreement. It had been a scant few hours of rest. Though a protoframe needed less sleep than the average human, their rest had been interrupted with frequent visions of Drifter's nightmares. Everyone surrendered the illusion of getting more rest in silent agreement. The knock at the door might as well have been a rooster's crow. Even Lettie joined them in the kitchen. Her willingness to leave Drifter's side was the greatest testament to their improved health and stability. She made a beeline for the cabinets, while muttering, "Coffee better exist in the future."

Amir assisted in her search while the others settled around the kitchen. The rustle of the two of them raiding the cabinets was occasionally interrupted with the spin and snap of Arthur's sword. He spun the blade, staring at it in hopeless contemplation as if somehow the action would bring him clarity. Though Quincy could barely see, he kept watch through the cracked kitchen window. On the bench Aoi was assisting Eleanor with her hair.

"Tea!", Amir held a small box high in triumph, "At least I think it is!"

Lettie immediately stopped her search and grabbed nearby cups, "Caffeine is caffeine, I'll take it."

They opened the box at the table.

"Cubes."

Nearly all the Hex deadpanned the word at the same moment. Without looking away from the window Quincy muttered dryly, "Why's it always gotta be fuckin' cubes." Amir lifted one portion of 'tea' from the box and carefully examined it. It was dark brown and slightly powdery, with a definite tea-like smell coming from it. Lettie set out a few cups on the table. The cups made Amir freeze, they looked nothing like the mugs from the mall. For some reason he couldn't quite place that information bothered him. He picked up a cup while asking, "Is this all there was?"

Lettie stared at Amir in disbelief, "¿Ey escuincle, estás bromeando? You expecting gold plated china!?"

The tone of her voice and her pre-caffeinated irritation made Amir abandon that thought entirely. He started dutifully placing a tea block in each of the cups. The next challenge was hot water. Nothing in this kitchen looked remotely like a kettle. Amir eventually discovered a spherical device that opened to reveal a slot that perfectly accommodated the cups. They found metal bottles containing water, hopefully still potable, and poured it in the cups. With all the satisfaction of sliding in the last piece to a puzzle Amir placed one of the cups into the slot in device. He cackled victoriously when it automatically turned on and began to boil the water in seconds. When it finished there was a polite little chirp. The sides of the cup weren't even hot when Amir removed it. He couldn't help a giggle as he lifted the cup with an excited, "Fuuuuture!"

Amir was about to take a swig when Arthur stepped forward and stopped him. "Needs to steep," Arthur glanced at the cup as Amir set it on the table, "...and it's loose leaf." As if on cue the tea cube emerged dramatically from the water like a breaching whale before disintegrating into a thousand tiny leaves in a thick layer on the surface. It didn't take long for them to find a possible tea steeper. At least it was the right shape to be a steeper, wasn't the right size. The bowl of it was the same size as the cups. To Amir's horror, Arthur attempted to open it. There was a soft metallic snap as the device fell apart in his hands.

"We can still use this.", Arthur sounded a little too desperate given the stakes at hand. There was, indeed, a strainer among the parts of the device he had broken. Aoi hovered the broken metal strainer over a bowl as Amir poured in the tea. The bowl chimed ominously it filled with liquid. It turned on, fulfilling its nefarious programming. The interior of the bowl spun rapidly, spraying hot tea over everyone in the vicinity.

Still they persevered and after few more minutes of problem solving, they emerged from the ordeal with a soaked kitchen, a broken doohickey, and miraculously 6 cups of frothy lukewarm tea.

The Hex gathered around the table, everyone eyed Arthur as he was the first to take a sip. He immediately choked on the contents, spitting it back out into the cup. Everyone else put their cups on the table in near perfect synchronization. Aoi sounded exhausted, "So...not tea then?"

Arthur spoke through coughing, "It's tea. I think each cube is for a whole pot, not a cup. It's...gods...it's so bitter."

After a moment of consideration Lettie tossed the contents of her cup back like a shot. The rest of them diluted theirs with water, to make it somewhat palatable. Amir searched hopelessly for sugar before begrudgingly taking his tea black.

We must have billions of cups of tea in our collective genetic memory. Yet we can't make even a partway decent one.

Aoi nodded, "Our ancestors would be so disappointed."

"Ancestors? My mom would be disappointed," Amir laughed, raising his cup in a mock toast, "To the future!"

The rest of the Hex raised their cup in acknowledgement then winced as they took a sip. Even diluted it wasn't pleasant. Quincy cleared his throat, "Speakin' of the future, do we have a plan?"

All eyes turned toward Arthur, he refused to divert his attention away from the cup in his hands, "I wouldn't even know where to start."

Should we review what we've seen?

Amir extended his hand, signaling Eleanor to wait, "Maybeweshouldn't? I've been thinking. If Drifter wanted us to know about any of this, they would have told us. Yeah?"

The room immediately filled with clamor as the Hex divided. "Yeah," Quincy immediately agreed while glancing at Amir, happy to have a reason not to share the horrors he witnessed with everyone, "They don't owe us shit."

At the same time Lettie dissented, "How else are we going to help them if we don't know anything? They've been hurting in silence for long enough."

Keeping secrets wasn't entirely deliberate. I'm sure you can imagine how hard all this is to think about, much less talk about.

Amir shook his head in disbelief, "Don't lie, Eleanor. They never wanted anyone to know. They told me that."

"I really wish it didn't have to be like this but we need information!", Aoi rose her voice over the discord, "We have no idea how to help Drifter or how to get ourselves home. If we don't at least talk about what we've seen, how do you propose we continue?"

It was a genuine question. No one answered, so Aoi continued, "Eleanor, you know them best. Do you know what they'd want to keep hidden? Are you able to filter that out when you show us memories?"

No. Drifter's memories and imagination were always difficult for me to differentiate. In truth, I don't think I know them very well at all.

"You're not the only one," Arthur agreed before returning to his silent reverie.

Aoi nodded quietly, considering all she had seen and how little she had known. "We should at least talk. Keep it to necessary information only. We could miss useful information but maybe that's a risk we should take to respect Drifter's privacy."

An uneasy silence filled the kitchen as they considered what was 'necessary information'. They sipped tea as a slow horror crept into the room. They finally had the time and capacity to process everything they had witnessed. Not only Drifter's miserable and painful childhood but the month their friends had spent alone, reliving it. The Hex's own suffering added to the pain. Amir kept fidgeting with his ear. It had regenerated fully but he could still feel where it had been bitten off.

Perhaps it was because Arthur had already spent most of his night brooding over everything but he was the first to break the silence, "I killed Kullervo. But it wasn't Kullervo, it was a guy. Then I went mad."

Truly, you have a gift with words. All Arthur had in response to his sister's witticism was a shrug.

"We saw Voruna," Aoi added, "she hunted Eleanor and me."

"Something attacked Eleanor. Hurt her. Maybe that was a Warframe too.", Lettie was curt, clearly still upset by the Hex's decision to keep Drifter's secrets.

Amir exclaimed, "Wisp! Didn't see her. She was, ya know, invisible. But she helped me."

Well, Drifter's inside them often enough, I suppose the Warframes became a part of them.

Arthur finally looked up from his tea, staring at Amir as he struggled to limit himself to necessary information. "When we got separated…Drifter was…hrn," he cut himself off then scratched his stubbled chin in consideration before continuing, "…when they lose control of their emotions, or it's too overwhelming…maybe that’s when…" He trailed off as his thoughts were seized by the memory of Drifter drowning in a pit of writhing darkness before him. Though blinded with tears, he thought he saw a shape emerge from the darkness. With dawning realization he spoke, "The Warframe manifests."

Eleanor agreed with him silently, keeping that memory to herself. I could feel Voruna's desperation and hunger as she hunted us. Kullervo must have been rage.

"So if we find them and kill them, we become a host to whatever fragment of Drifter they are?", Aoi considered aloud, Arthur's rampage still fresh in everyone's minds.

Lettie nodded in agreement, "When I made that promise to them...we all saw that light."

"So we have to make some sort of promise to Drifter and then the emotion goes back? It helps them a little?" Amir's fingers tapped rapidly against his cup in excitement, accenting his words.

Staying on target, Quincy spoke next, "Sounds like a plan. How do we find the Warframes?"

"Happy thoughts!", Amir smiled broadly, "Right Aoi? We want their next Warframe to be Wisp! I'm pretty sure she's Drifter's happiness!"

Aoi reflected Amir's joy, "Makes sense!"

Amir continued, "I even have a happy memory to start with! When I took watch last night, I saw a memory of the kids just absolutely stuffing their faces. The little girl even threw up a little, kinda gross but..."

The rest of the Hex stared at him with growing distress. Amir's smile slipped away, "What…what's wrong…?"

Just a baby. Eleanor couldn't help but let the thought slip to rest of the Hex, she clasped her hands over her mouth as if the offending words had escaped it. Fortunately it was devoid of context and all those words earned were a few confused looks.

"When was it, Amir?" Lettie spoke in a terse and strained tone.

"I told you, when I took watch-"

"No. Was it after they had been starving for a bit? Not…not from before, when the parents around?"

"Yeah. After they…", Amir cut himself off, keeping Drifter's secrets was harder than he imagined, "…they probably hadn't eaten anything in a really long time. Isn't it a good thing they got some food?"

"Refeeding syndrome. When food isn't introduced slowly after starving, it can cause…problems. It's going to get worse."

"Worse?"

The Hex sat with that information, staring at their cold tea in horror. Eleanor could feel fear and doubt tearing at the seams of her mind. Fear had been her constant companion the second she had stepped onto this ship. She did not want to know which of Drifter's terrible memories were true and what was just fantasy. There was only one thing she feared more than diving too deep into Drifter's shadows and it was losing her friend. She knew how to find Drifter's fear, she had been drawn to it over and over again.

Not joy. Fear.

Chapter Text

The Hex were quick to ready for the mission. There wasn't much to prepare. The only challenge was redistributing Quincy's weapons. After some discussion it was decided that his rifle would be best in Eleanor's hands, and Amir was trusted with his pistol. Quincy would stay behind with Drifter, with nothing but his dagger to protect them both. Despite Quincy's resistance to the idea, the logic behind it was undeniable. There was no use for a blind sniper in a fight and his weapons would better serve people who could see. Even Lettie was leaving. Drifter was stable, despite Lettie's abilities failing to work on their head wound. The rest of the Hex would need a medic on hand if things went south. Quincy was the obvious choice to keep Drifter safe.

Their tense departure from the Dormizone was silent. Any ease they had earned from rest had been killed by grim purpose. Eleanor was silent as she tracked Drifter's fear. It was easy. Fear did not wish to suffer alone. The Hex followed Eleanor down corridors that seemed to grow darker with each step. Eleanor was leading them true. It wasn't long before they could all feel it. They began glancing over their shoulders and lingering a little too long on ominous shapes in the shadows. Keeping close to each other, they entered the great windowed park that Quincy and Amir had discovered on their first outing. Though the light of the void was constant and unchanging, somehow, it seemed darker now. The trees clawed at the windows with dead black branches, casting their shadows against the void light.

Children's fearful whispers followed them, quiet enough to make them doubt if they heard anything at all. The little they could make out were fragmented stories, tales of the horrors of which they had borne witness. Like campfire stories only with the sickening knowledge that this was not whispered rumors or imagination. Adults would hunt. Hurt. Kill. Eat. All while speaking comforting, loving words. The whispering grew louder, crescendoing into screams. The shadows lurched toward them forming desperate, grasping hands. One pair of hands gradually became more solid. The shadowy visage of a trembling, terrified child dragged itself from the swarm of hands. It rose to face them with a motion that was more water than human. It extended its arms, begging to be embraced. Eleanor hesitated. Perhaps fear wasn't something that needed to be fought, but embraced? She approached the shadow.

Suddenly blood stained claws burst from the child, eager to tear Eleanor apart. Luckily Amir was prepared and managed to pull Eleanor out of the way. The shadow leapt toward Eleanor again. This time Arthur intervened, deflecting the attack with his sword. The shadow hesitated, as if calculating the odds. It fled, gracefully slithering away. Aoi attempted to trap it in the park, but she couldn't move the metal fast enough and the shadow slipped through the cracks. They chased after it.

As they ran the halls began to come apart before them. Paneling slipped off the walls, exposing the wires of the ship that spilled like gore onto the floor. Metal corroded, and plants grew into the cracks. The Void crept in, twisting everything until the ship was unfamiliar and cold. So cold they could see each breath as they ran. More overwhelming than anything else was the smell. The rot. The scent of putrid mold and decay. The could hear the children wailing as the bodies began to appear. Bleeding, defiled corpses. Hastily shoved into rooms, haphazardly covered with blankets, or just left to rot where they lay. Children half eaten and adults killed by primitive means. The faces of the corpses began to repeat. Slowly rotting away as they ran. They could hear children sobbing, questioning what to do with the bodies. How to bury them, where they were supposed to put the bodies.

"There's no place for the dead. We're supposed to be on Tau.", A voice whispered from right behind them. None of the Hex turned toward it, focused on their target. Though their pursuit felt more like fleeing than hunting. What did make them hesitate was a storage closet, so filled with rotting corpses it was unable to close. The door slid pathetically back and forth onto the torso of a women who's glassy, pale eyes followed them as they ran past.

Amir clasped his hands over his ears and used his arms like blinders, forcing himself to focus just on his target while muttering, "Worst haunted house ever." Over and over again. Aoi heard him and joined in the chant until almost all of them were muttering it under their breath.

They ran, somehow returning to the windowed park. The shadow they were chasing slithered up the hill on which Amir and Quincy had first seen Drifter's parents. In their place, at the crest of the hill, was a figure. A Warframe. The shadow draped itself around it's shoulders and even in the darkness the silhouette was unmistakable.

Sevagoth.

Quincy had been fuming quietly in the Dormizone kitchen, unmoving since he was left alone. Everything suddenly went pitch black and cold. He fumbled in the darkness for the lighter in his pack. The first thing he did was check on Drifter, protecting the sputtering flame with his hand as he took each careful step. Drifter hadn't moved, but they were shivering. Quincy could see each of their shallow breaths.

With a soft and tender voice he muttered, "I got you fam." Stumbling in the darkness he managed to find the wood he had gathered before. He felt his way through shredding tinder and starting a fire. It slowly came to life, spreading warmth and light throughout the bedroom. Quincy glanced up from the flame. There was a face less than an inch away from his own. He leapt backwards. The flickering light revealed the gaunt and haunted face of the older brother as he struggled to keep the fire alive. The environmental systems aboard the Zariman must have failed at some point. It was so damn cold. Quincy continued to help the fire along, trying to focus on that instead of the kid in front of him. When the fire was strong enough the kid slipped back into the darkness and Quincy breathed a sigh of relief.

It was still freezing, so Quincy took a step back toward Drifter, intending to toss one of Lettie's blankets over them. There was a sickening crunch beneath his feet. He froze before slowing lifting his foot to reveal...an empty box. Probably meant to hold those food cubes. As he repositioned himself to try to get a better look, his foot landed on another empty container. He tripped on it and was unable to catch himself before he fell into an impossible amount of those empty containers.

"WHAT DID YOU DO WITH THE FOOD?!", the older brother's voice was impossibly loud. It rattled the empty boxes and they clattered together making how hollow they were obvious. Quincy felt tiny and vulnerable as the firelight cast menacing shadows onto the ceiling as he struggled to get up.

"DID YOU EAT IT ALL?!", with the brother's accusation a few of the boxes in the pile flew off to the side as if thrown, shattering against the shelves. The door facing the beds opened. Quincy winced and unsheathed his knife to defend himself.

The scared little girl whispered from the darkness on the other side, "They were hungry."

"No...", Quincy wasn't sure if he was the one who spoke or if it was the older brother.

"I thought if they got something to eat they would get better."

"NO!"

Whatever lay on the other side of the door flickered between a passage overgrown with green vines and a bloodstained hall. Eventually the door opened wide, beckoning Quincy to enter the bloody corridor. Something forced him to his feet and to walk through the door. The void made blood dark in its pale green light. Partially dried blood stuck to the soles of his shoes with each step and the air was thick with its metallic scent. It all seemed to be seeping out from under the haphazardly barricaded doors at the other end.

"Mom was right about you," the older brother sounded like he was speaking through tears, "you're nothing but a burden."

The barricade crumpled away and the door opened with a terrible wail. The room on the other side was clearly once their parents'. It was destroyed by their madness. Every object was broken beyond recognition. Every surface was covered in blood and filth. The parents themselves were just as broken, half alive and unrecognizable. No longer able to stand, their legs ended in mere stumps. Their mouths were agape, bearing broken teeth and rotting tongues. What little was left of their hands were skeletal with strips of flesh still tensing as they reached out for their children. They ignored the food on the ground, covering it in blood and gore as they inched toward the door. The boy stepped forward, tears streaming down his face from unfocused eyes. He held a pipe in his hands. Quincy watched in horror as he brutally beat his parents to death. There was no sound, only the desperate, sobbing cries of the girl.

It didn't end there. As his parents lay twitching on the ground, the boy fell to his hands and knees. He began to eat the blood covered food cubes scattered on the ground. Where the sounds of their parent's brutal killing were silenced, the sound of this terrible feast was amplified. Quincy could hear the wet, sloppy sound of him desperately grabbing each cube and shoving it into his mouth. Unable to stomach anymore, Quincy tried to back away but collided into someone standing right behind him. Drifter. Their glowing eyes were locked onto the scene before them.

"This isn't even the worst of it." Drifter's mouth barely moved and their eyes never left the room.

"What?" Quincy was too disturbed to say or even think anything else.

"This is what you wanted. To learn about the worst thing I did. To hate me."

"I-I didn't want to hate you."

Drifter finally looked away from the carnage of their parents and advanced toward Quincy, "You wanted to hate me. You've hated me the whole time."

"No! No."

"Stop lying!"

They lunged toward Quincy, grabbing him. Reacting on pure instinct, Quincy shoved them. He hadn't put much force into it, but Drifter was unsteady and weak. They toppled and collided with the wall. When they rose their face dripped with fresh blood. Despite this they still advanced on a horrified Quincy. Drifter tackled him to the ground and wrestled the knife from his hands.

Quincy let Drifter pin him. As they held the knife aloft their eyes wildly darted around, unable to focus on anything. The sound of the boy eating still echoed throughout the hall. Drifter screamed an inch away from Quincy's face, "You knew I was wrong! My clothes. The way I talk. You knew I didn't belong from the start!"

"I'm sorry!"

Drifter wailed wordless frustration and drove the knife into the ground by Quincy's head.

"I-I was scared!" Quincy held his hands over his eyes, unable to face Drifter, "We were gettin' close and...and every time I let someone in, I get into serious shit." He started to tremble, still listening to the sounds of the boy eating. His voice broke, "...and you're in some deep shit."

There was silence. When Quincy finally opened his eyes, Drifter was gone and the door to the parents' room was closed. He grabbed his knife and pulled himself up off the sticky, bloodstained floor. An odd numbness was drowning out every thought with static. He stumbled away from the carnage. The door to the hall shut behind him as he entered the bedroom. Drifter was on the bed, in the exact position Quincy had left them. He had just a second to feel a little relief break through the numbness when an arm coiled around his neck somewhere between a choke-hold and a hug. Quincy froze.

"All those tablets you read, what did you learn about the void?", it was Drifter's voice whispering in his ear but it sure as hell didn't sound like Drifter. The arm around his neck tightened as the whispers continued, "The void manifests latent thoughts and emotions. I wonder what kind of manifestation would appear if 6 people all believed one thing at the same time." A hand, silver with void corruption gently lifted Quincy's hand still grasping the knife and pointed it at Drifter. Quincy screamed and hurled the knife into the ground.

Chapter Text

The Hex had the advantage over Sevagoth. Not only did they outnumber him, they knew him well. The strategy was simple. Keep your distance. Don't die. Quincy's weapons gave Eleanor and Amir the range they needed. Amir was particularly effective. He peppered Sevagoth and kept his attention while darting around the wide, open space. Eleanor used the range Quincy's rifle provided to her full advantage, and kept as much distance as possible. Unlike Kullervo, Sevagoth was unarmed and relying on his shadow's claws to attack. It wasn't long before the Hex had him cornered.

Sevagoth's shadow hovered over him protectively making him seem larger than he was. Like a frightened animal's threat display. The Hex glanced at each, sharing in the uncertainty of who would make the final blow and take on Drifter's fear. Arthur rushed forward, prepared for that burden. He swung down on Sevagoth. As Arthur's blade fell, Sevagoth and his shadow separated and fled in opposite directions. Without hesitation, Arthur pursued Sevagoth back into the dark corridors. He glanced behind him as he entered the darkness, sharing a knowing glance with Eleanor as she pursued the shadow.

Arthur was preparing to hunt Sevagoth alone when Amir sped past him with a breathless laugh, "Can't get rid of me that easily, not this time!" In Amir's presence Arthur felt the familiar burst of Volt's energy. They ran past the corpses of the Zariman, ignoring whatever horrors their target conjured. It didn't take them long to catch up to Sevagoth. They cornered him again in one of the Dormizones. The close quarters tipped favor toward Sevagoth. Gloom filled the confines of the small kitchen. Even Amir wasn't able to completely counter the shadows that clung to them and slowed them down.

Each of the blows they dealt Sevagoth only seemed to drain them, but they didn't relent. It was a testament to the control and grace Arthur had with his sword that he was able to fight effectively in the Dormizone at all. One swing arced the entire breadth of the space. He couldn't quite manage to avoid destroying the kitchen as Sevagoth dodged his attacks. Amir holstered Quincy's pistol and unsheathed his knives for close range combat. Unfortunately, between the shadows randomly sapping and then returning his speed he wasn't much use. He kept slamming into the walls and counters, barely managing to get a hit in. This particular Dormizone had been in shambles prior to their arrival. Now the only thing that remained intact was a mug perched innocuously on the counter's edge.

Sevagoth ate away at their vitality as the chaotic fight continued. Each movement slowed to a crawl, not just because of the clinging shadows but their exhaustion as well. Arthur summoned the last of his energy into a final attack, his blade enveloped in blue light as he raised it over his head before driving it into the ground. The entire Dormizone shook with the impact. The mug fell from the counter's edge.

As it fell, a spectral blade appeared and plunged into Sevagoth's chest. Strangely, Amir had to fight the urge to catch the mug. It was just a mug. A stupid, white mug that they could get a hundred of in the cafe at the mall. He needed to focus on the fight. As he turned his attention back toward Arthur and Sevagoth, the mug hit the floor, splitting into two near perfect halves. Sevagoth fell and the shadows welcomed him home with a horrified scream. Arthur turned toward Amir only to see him collapse like a discarded marionette.

"Amir?", Arthur could see his breath as he spoke. The little puff of vapor was the only thing that moved. All the life in the room had abruptly ceased at the same moment. Unable to think of what else to do, Arthur fell back on what was familiar. He barked an order, "Stop messing around. To your feet!"

Nothing. There were just a few reluctant steps between him and Amir. Arthur's legs felt impossibly heavy as he forced himself to move. He inched closer to Amir as his mind struggled to comprehend what had happened. It didn't make sense, Amir didn't have a scratch on him. Arthur had made sure of that. There was no way this was real. It had to be a vision. A hallucination. A trick. Fake.

Unable to take another step, Arthur dropped to his knees and pulled Amir toward him. There was no resistance, Amir was completely limp as he toppled over to face Arthur with unblinking eyes. A strange wavering cry filled the room that Arthur was only vaguely aware of making. He dragged Amir into an embrace. Only then could Arthur feel the soft rise and fall of his friend's chest. He pulled Amir in even tighter, trembling the entire time. Relief did nothing to ease his fear. An emotionless laugh escaped him as he cradled Amir in his arms.

Despite his being alive, there was nothing Arthur could do to wake Amir up. No amount of shaking him or screaming did anything. Eventually Arthur slung Amir around his shoulders in a fireman carry and staggered out of the Dormizone, leaving the broken mug behind.

"LETTIE!", Arthur screamed desperately down the hall, hoping their medic was close. There was nothing but silence that followed the echoes of his desperate cry for help. He grasped Amir's arm and leg in one hand, securing him around his neck as he held his sword in his other hand. Even with Arthur's enhanced strength, Amir was more metal than flesh and he weighed Arthur down. It put him off balance. Slowly stumbling in the darkness, he retraced their steps. What had been seconds of running with Amir just a few moments ago had turned into an insurmountable distance. One heavy step after another. The darkness was unyielding, and offered no glimmer of hope for an end to this torturous walk. The only thing Arthur could do was to keep moving forward.

Hour or minutes passed; it was impossible to tell. Laboured breathing and heavy footfalls echoed down the halls. Just for a moment Arthur knelt to catch his breath. There was a wet thud behind them. He tensed before reluctantly turning toward the noise. There was a disfigured corpse, barely distinguishable in the darkness but Arthur could not mistake Drifter.

"No..."

Perhaps it was sheer denial, or the faith he had in Quincy to keep Drifter safe but he turned away from the corpse and kept moving. It wasn't the only one. The bodies they had passed before had transformed into Drifter. Every single face was his beloved's. He stumbled past them listlessly, keeping his eyes on the darkness ahead.

"You couldn't protect them. You can't save anyone."

Arthur's ears rang in the silence that followed those words. He wasn't sure if he had imagined that voice or if he had really heard Christopher speak from the void. It didn't matter. It was enough to break him. He crumpled to the ground. Amir fell. There were so many bodies around him. So much death. Impaled. Bloated. Tortured. All of Duviri's torment was laid bare before him. Every single death. Arthur couldn't help but feel somehow responsible. As if this blood were on his hands. He could not tear his eyes away from the carnage.

There was an odd shuffling click as something approached. Arthur was able to gather enough presence of mind to at least protectively huddle over Amir. From the darkness a creature crawled. Elongated silver claws gently tapped on the ground as it pulled the rest of its body behind. Its other hand dragged uselessly on the ground, shattered and only held together with strands of void. Its body was covered in silver spirals that marred it's features beyond recognition. The eyes burned with pale light that never left Arthur. A horrific smile opened and closed in mockery of communication. Each time it opened its mouth, it revealed how hollow it was. Empty. Except for the void that burned within. The only sounds this wretched creature made were soft melodic notes as if someone were whispering with a violin.

Unable to comprehend this fresh terror, Arthur let the creature approach. It raised its silver claw and gently traced over the tears running down Arthur's cheek. Fresh blood welled up in the wake of its claw, mixing with his tears and streaming down his face. The pain made it real. This had to be some sort of Void Angel. Arthur remembered his last encounter with one and didn't dare move. Seeing Drifter dead a hundred fold would be nothing compared to their corpses coming to life and attacking them like the shadows in the Med Bay had. The creature turned its attention to Amir. It's claw slowly drew closer until Arthur snapped. He wrenched his sword upward through its torso. It's scream sounded like a symphony of snapping metal strings. It drew back and Arthur glanced around fearfully, expecting the corpses to rise and lurch toward them at any moment. Nothing stirred. When he turned to face the deformed angel again it was gone, leaving nothing but writhing darkness in its wake.

Trembling, Arthur tried to lift Amir onto his shoulders again. He failed. His strength had abandoned him along with his mind. He dragged Amir a few more feet in pathetic desperation. As if freshly decapitated, Drifter's head rolled from the carnage and came to a stop before him. The final sliver of Arthur's sanity snapped. He screamed. Unable to look away from Drifter's lifeless eyes. Unable to save anyone. Unable to move. He could do nothing but scream.

It didn't matter what horrors the shadows conjured. Aoi, Lettie and Eleanor were relentless in their pursuit. Regardless of their determination, without Amir they could never quite catch Sevagoth's shadow. It slipped through any barriers Aoi put in its way and led the three of them on a horrid chase through the corpse littered halls of the Zariman.

Eventually it slipped into a Dormizone and Aoi sprinted after it, eager to trap it. The room was pitch black. Before Aoi's eyes had a chance to adjust there was a sharp and sudden blow to the back of her head. It had been brutal enough to kill. For the first time Aoi felt lucky that the back of her head had mutated. Though the blow was not enough to kill her, it was enough to knock her off her feet.

Aoi found herself looking up at the terrified, pale faces of Drifter's friends. She attempted to break the tension with a little wave. They stared at her like she was a monster. Evidently, the one who struck her was Dancer. There was a bent metal rod in her hands. All of them were armed. Aoi reached out, opening her mouth to speak. Before she could make a sound Cyclops drove their spear into her side. Lettie and Eleanor had been just a few seconds behind her. They burst through the door. In an instant Lettie assessed the situation and immediately ran to Aoi's side. Before Lettie could do anything Odd Eyes tackled her. He pinned her to the ground while she screamed, "Let go! We're not going to hurt you!"

Eleanor attempted to calm things down. She sent gentle thoughts into the children's minds but it was useless. She was scared. They were scared. Something grabbed her wrist. Eleanor wrenched her hand away and ended up unintentionally knocking the small, freckled girl who grabbed it into the wall. Dancer's reaction was immediate. She abandoned Aoi and lunged at Eleanor with a near inhuman screech. Afraid of hurting the kids, Eleanor only raised her arms to defect the incoming barrage. Aoi cried out after Dancer, "Please! We only want to help!"

Dancer's voice matched the fear in her eyes as she shouted to the other children, "Don't listen to them! Adults are dangerous!!"

Aoi tried to get up, only to have Peach Fuzz straddle her. There was an unsettling, almost joyful expression on his face as he licked his lips. He raised a knife and before Aoi could react, he drove it into her shoulder.

It would be so easy to kill them. As practiced as these kids were in dealing with void addled adults, they were just kids. Despite her unwillingness to hurt the children, hearing Aoi scream in pain made something in Lettie snap. She easily threw Odd Eyes off and into Peach Fuzz. The boys were sent tumbling into the darkness. Aoi steadied the kitchen knife in her shoulder as she scrambled to her feet. Lettie briefly checked if Aoi was ok before turning toward Eleanor. Clanging echoed throughout the room as Dancer was still futility swinging her rod into Eleanor's arms. Lettie charged past Cyclops and grabbed Dancer's wrist, yanking her away from Eleanor.

They stood opposed to one another. The frightened children cornered in the Dormizone, with The Hex blocking the only exit. Dancer wrapped a now hysterically weeping Freckles in a protective embrace. The rest of the children emerged from the darkness, gripping their weapons with dire purpose. These kids wanted them dead. If this were anywhere close to normal circumstances, they would run. There was no winning against an enemy that they didn't want to hurt. The three member of the Hex exchanged pained glances. The same fears racing through each of their minds. To defeat the shadow- to save Drifter, would they have to kill these kids?

Perhaps it was the weight of that question warping her perception but for the first time Eleanor noticed that these kids looked like them. They looked like the Hex. Maybe it was just the shadow's trick, or Drifter filling in the blanks of their unreliable memory. Once it was noticed it was impossible to ignore. It was particularly obvious with Dancer who looked exactly like a young Lettie. Freckles had Amir's hair and Aoi's eyes. It was odd because these two were supposed to be siblings but they looked nothing alike. The one eye they could see peering from Cyclops' bloody bandages was an unnatural purple, a perfect match for Eleanor's. As the boys charged forward, screaming, Eleanor could not mistake her brother's likeness in Odd Eyes. Mismatched eyes, exactly like Arthur. Even Peach Fuzz had a vague Quincyness about him, though his was the faintest similarity.

This revelation made what Eleanor knew she had to do worse. Lettie was gathering energy in her palm while preparing to remove the knife in Aoi's shoulder. Despite this, Aoi raised her staff to defend them while trying to talk to the kids. She was still trying to diffuse the situation in vain. The rifle in Eleanor's hands felt heavy as she leveled a shot at Odd Eye's head. This was just a nightmare. It had to be. It was not a real child charging at them. Just an illusion. She fired.

The shadow suddenly manifested into existence, blocking the shot. It's appearance wavered as it staggered. It was Drifter. Then Sevagoth. Then it was a man with dark skin and a short, curly beard. His eyes locked with Eleanor's and he spoke with a soft and gentle voice, "I only wanted to help."

The children stopped being children. First it was how they acted. Their movements became jerky almost like clockwork. Then their features were consumed by the shadows. An eerie stillness followed their transformation. In unison the shadowy children turned on the man. Screams of agony filled the room as they tore him apart and dissolved each rendered bit of flesh into ash. Lettie fled, dragging a wailing Eleanor with her. Aoi hesitated.

it escaped any explanation but it was like something in the room called her name and begged for help. Aoi managed to tear her eyes away from the horrific scene before her and saw a broken mug on the floor. She didn't know why but she knew that mug was important. Dodging shadows that snatched at her heels, she slipped past and scooped up the mug. The shadows descended on her. They clawed at her flesh and her skin burned to ash at their touch. She clutched the broken mug to her heart and screamed, summoning every piece of metal in the room to spiral around her. It gave her enough leeway to escape and join Lettie and Eleanor.

As they fled they could hear a sound in the dark corridors. Almost like a laugh. Before the other two could stop her, Eleanor ran ahead. They found Arthur kneeling in the darkness. He clutched his head, eyes fixed forward, staring at nothing. His screaming and crying wavered as he struggled to breathe from the exertion, making it sound like a demented laugh. Amir was limp on the ground by his side. Arthur turned toward Eleanor amidst the chaos of Lettie and Aoi screaming in agony at the sight of Amir. Like a scared child, Arthur embraced his older sister.

Chapter Text

Amir felt like he was waking up from the worst kind of nap. The kind that leaves you tired and disoriented, worse off than when you fell asleep. He could barely see anything through bleary, eyes except warm lighting and familiar shapes. It was enough to orient himself. There was no way he could mistake the Backrooms for anywhere else. What was most recognizable was the smell. Dust and old clothes. Arthur's cooking lingering in the air, leaving everything with a faint hint of nutmeg and black pepper. Then there was Drifter's indescribable scent. The best way Amir could describe it was that they smelled like licking a battery. Regardless of how off putting it was at first, it had become familiar, and then comforting. What Amir couldn't figure out was why he was here. Were they playing Fables and Frontiers super late or something? He couldn't remember the last time he crashed at Drifter's place. It was probably before they got together with Arthur. They must have gotten drunk. He had fallen asleep pressed up against the railing in the loft.

It hit him. The horrors of The Zariman tore through his mind. Even worse was the wretched month before in Drifter's absence. A million questions ran through his head at once. Did he pass out? Why? Was he in the weird Zarmian Backrooms? How long had it been? Was everyone OK? Sheer terror wrenched the last remnants of exhaustion away. Amir leapt to his feet.

Only he didn't. He couldn't.

Not a single muscle in his body responded to his racing thoughts. He could not make even a single finger twitch. Panic seized him violently. Amir tried to scream, but his tongue was dead weight in his mouth. Even his breathing was a struggle only made worse by his fear as he began to hyperventilate. Mindless terror overcame him. His heart battered against his rib cage, just as trapped as he was. He was imprisoned in his own thoughts. Unable to move. Completely alone.

A few minutes passed. Or perhaps hours of this agony crawled by until he, at last, exhausted himself into a calm stupor. At which point the only other emotion Amir managed other than fear was gratitude. At least he still could cry and move his eyes. He tried to get his bearings. There had to be some way he could wake himself from this nightmare.

There was little he could see pressed up against the railing. Half of his vision was blocked by the bars, making it difficult to focus on anything. From the loft he made out Wisp, laying motionless by the arsenal. His blood ran cold. Was this what being a Warframe meant? Did the infestation finally consume him? Strength. Speed. Abilities beyond comprehension. Unable to use any of it. Unable to move his own body. Utterly helpless.

Amir could feel the panic threatening to consume him again. He tore his eyes away from Wisp and looked up. Quincy had been right there. In front of him the whole time. Just like Amir, he was equally as limp and motionless. Quincy's eyes were swollen and completely red as he stared ahead lifelessly. The sight sent Amir spiraling into another hell of panic and fear. He was unable to help his friend. Useless. Worthless.

In the midst of the endless suffocation of fear and terror Amir heard a familiar voice. His panicked breathing had drowned out the words but he absolutely knew he heard something. He struggled to control his breathing and strained to hear over his pathetic wheezing.

"Please! We only want to help!"

Aoi! AoiAoiAoi. Please. Aoi!

He couldn't speak. Still he begged. Over and over again. There was a answer to his silent pleas. Comfort. Like someone was holding him close and safe. He closed his eyes, giving into that feeling and managed a shuttering sigh. It would be OK. Even if he could never move again, the rest of the Hex wouldn't abandon him. He steadied himself with that knowledge.

With this new sense of clarity he was able to finally hear hysterical wailing as if it were echoing down a distant hall. He could hear each of his friends crying out. They needed help. He needed to help. To do anything. With practiced ease he found that spark of electricity within himself and sent it out.

Every

split.

Warm.

Cold.

Light.

Dark.

Ar

thur.

Staggering.

Limp.

A metal crane?

A broken mug?

...Blood?
Was she hurt?

He hurt.

Everything hurt.

Every part of his body and thoughts were being torn in half. Every molucule that was his was shredding apart.

"He's seizing?!"

Lettie slipped Amir off her back and onto the floor as he convulsed. The movement had been so slight that she hadn't know what was happening at first. She could count the number of seizures she had witnessed on one hand. Everyone was looking at her. Counting on her. Lettie couldn't remember what to do. She hesitated. Driven to madness, and unable to idly stand by anymore, Arthur attempted to pin Amir to the ground. Forcibly trying to stop him from seizing.

"No!", Lettie's spared no gentleness as she grabbed Arthur's shoulders, forcing him to back off. Arthur's pupils were dilated. His breathing was rough and rapid. Fear and panic had driven him past the brink. Lettie's voice softened, "No." He buried his head in his trembling hands. As Lettie turned back toward Amir, she remembered what to do. With gentle care she removed Amir's glasses and turned him onto his side. Then, they waited.

A few more seconds passed before the convulsions subsided. Lettie returned to carrying Amir and as his weight settled on her shoulders and odd thought occurred to her. Like Amir was whispering in her ear. Lettie muttered under her breath as they walked, "Worst haunted house ever."

Soon they were all muttering it in discordant unison as they trekked through the suffocating darkness and back to Drifter.

The dormizone was eerily silent when they entered in a frenzied burst of activity. Lettie immediately set Amir down on the bench in the kitchen with Aoi hovering over the both of them. Arthur rushed into the bedroom and grabbed Drifter's hand,

"I'll love you forever. I-I'll listen more. I'll never leave you alone...", he kept muttering promise after promise, desperately trying to force the glowing strands of light to appear. Nothing happened.

Eleanor was the only one who noticed Quincy. He was standing in the far corner, staring at his knife that had been discarded in the middle of the bedroom. His thoughts were disturbingly quiet. As she got closer the blood streaked across his body became apparent.

What...what happened?

"Ain't mine.", Quincy's voice was hoarse and barely audible.

Eleanor gently brushed her consciousness against Quincy's. She hadn't meant to probe, but Quincy's thoughts were so fractured they burst like a spider's nest at the slightest regard. They skittered across her mind, infesting it with the terrible memories he had witnessed. The smell of rotting blood wafting off Quincy suddenly became very apparent. She choked back nausea as she stumbled into the kitchen to breathe. Quincy followed, unaware of the distress he was causing Eleanor.

Lettie was preoccupied with examining Amir. He lay precariously on the narrow bench, threatening tumble onto the floor at any moment. The sight shook something free in Quincy. This was real. He turned on the others, sounding more scared than angry, "What happened?! Why didn't you protect him?!"

Aoi carefully set the broken mug on the table before speaking, "We separated. Amir went with Arthur an-Quincy!"

The second Quincy heard Arthur's name he turned and charged back into the bedroom. He tore Arthur away from Drifter. Arthur struggled until Quincy slammed him against the wall, knocking the air from his lungs. Quincy screamed and inch from Arthur's face, "We expendable to you?! You willin' to sacrifice us for Drifter?" Arthur just shoved him away and tried to return to Drifter's side. Quincy wouldn't let him leave and grabbed him again while screaming, "Answer me!"

Arthur sounded broken, "I-I have to save Drifter. I have-"

"Is that all you care about?!"

"Amir...Amir's going to be fine. Drifter needs me."

"What about the rest of us?! Who's next? Eleanor?!"

"No! Not her!", the distress in Arthur's voice was painfully obvious but it didn't matter to Quincy.

"Is your Maj scared-"

ENOUGH!

Eleanor's voice rang loudly in everyone's heads.

This ship is doing a great job of torturing us! We don't need to do it ourselves!

"Fightin' his battles? Should I start callin' you Queenie?"

I'm helping my brother. Something you might understand if you weren't such a shit one.

Quincy winced and stepped back. Eleanor knew she was cutting deep, nettling at insecurities pried from Quincy's most private thoughts. She was willing to be ruthless, if it meant Quincy would back off. She would do anything to protect Arthur.

While they argued, Aoi examined the pieces of the broken mug. The logical next step was to see what would happen if the two pieces were put back together. Click.

Amir shot up. Gasping.

The shock of it caused Aoi to drop the mug. It's two halves skittered across the table. Amir immediately collapsed again, slipping off the bench and spilling onto the floor at Lettie's feet. They took a moment to stare bewildered at each other before Aoi snatched the mug, and with shaking hands, snapped the two halves back together.

Amir immediately leapt up, nearly bowling Lettie over. He immediately started scratching his nose while giddily laughing. Before anyone could say anything he turned toward Lettie, "HowlongdoIhave?"

"¡¿Q-Que?!"

"Knowwhat. Doesn'tmatter!"

He leapt over the table, and Aoi had to dodge to get out of his way. She didn't dare take her hands off the mug, keeping it firmly pressed together. Amir made a beeline for Drifter, completely ignoring anything else.

"Okokok. I'vehad alotoftime tothinkaboutstuffrecently," Amir took a deep breath before continuing, "You're my best friend. Annnnd I don't think I've been listening to you. Like, at all. You tried to tell me all this stuff about the future and I was only hearing what I wanted to hear. I just..."

Amir blinked back tears and took another deep breath. "...the future is supposed to be hopeful, yeah? All our problems solved, 'cause we have the right tech and we've evolved. Turns out," he gestured their surroundings, "the future fucking sucks! People are just as shitty! There's still so much greed. War. Suffering. Hunger. The same problems and now somehow worse?! Because of the new tech?! And...and...and I'm so...so sorry this happened to you."

He couldn't help the tears, "...but you know what? It doesn't matter. The future is still cool, it's still hopeful, because you are in it! No matter what happens, I want to face the future with you!"

A gentle spiral of light connected Amir to Drifter. The fear that had been crushing them suddenly lifted. It wasn't as if it had disappeared, but that they were ready to face it. Together.

The light vanished. Amir turned toward the others, panicking, "DidImessthatup? Wasn't someone supposed to be between us or something?" Arthur ran forward and pulled Amir into a tight embrace. Eleanor was next to follow, wrapping her arms around the both of them.

Amir looked expectantly at Quincy, "Group hug! Everybody in!"

Quincy grimaced but patted Amir on the back awkwardly attempting to avoid Arthur. Still holding the mug together, Aoi watched jealously from the doorway while Lettie joined the hug.

"...rthur?"

A quiet voice broke the silence. Groggy and heartbreakingly familiar. Arthur turned toward Drifter.

Chapter Text

Repeating, again and again. Fractured colors and shapes. Spiraling. Changing but never changing. Countless deaths. Endless halls. Memories. Repeating, again and again and again in an endlessly turning kaleidoscope. Drifter was lost in the pattern. Twisting. Coiled so tightly and on the brink of coming apart. Drifter longed for the day when the kaleidoscope finally snapped, so they could turn all the confetti and beads into ash. Perhaps that was the only ending they were allowed.

Everything repeated. Except Arthur. Except the Hex. They were a shimmering singularity in a million lifetimes of repetition. Each hug novel. Each kiss unique. So rare and special, it could never be captured again. Suddenly being trapped didn't seem so bad. Drifter's universe centered on them. The kaleidoscope's patterns turned around them. Everything else lost meaning. Pain. Death. Memory. Drifter's precious few loved ones were the only thing that mattered. Until they were gone. Suddenly there was only a gaping void in the center of the universe. Drifter struggled to grasp the loss. Had they been trapped in the kaleidoscope for so long that they had begun to hallucinate love within the patterns? No. Don't think about that.

The Zariman. Repeating, again and again. They always returned to the Zariman or maybe they had never left. How many times had they walked down these empty corridors? Every inch known and familiar. Nothing left to discover.

Drifter had to return home. If the year passed without them, what would happen to the Hex? At first they tried to keep track of the days. No Lua, no Sol, only sleep could tell that time was passing. They stopped trying to count the days. It was useless. They stopped trying to sleep. What good was rest if it changed nothing? Why dream of memories repeating, again and again?

Months? Years? Whittling away, slipping through their ever grasping fingers like water. They had to return. How much time did they have until everything they loved became just another memory? Repeating, over and over. The angels whispered promises of home. Impossible to ignore when their voices were pieces of Drifter's heart. Mommy asking them to forgive. Daddy promising to never hurt them again. Teshin beckoning them in from the cold. The Hex begging them to come back. Repeating, again and again.

Drifter sang until their throat bled. Drowning those sweet words in blood. They must escape. No matter what they heard. What they saw.

"Group hug!"

Ah. They really wanted a hug.

Waking felt like trying to pull themselves free from the jaws of a Golden Maw. With hooked fangs that pierced all the way through, pulling them deeper as they struggled. The more they fought the more it hurt. Drifter could feel the waking world just beyond their reach, like their fingertips were barely skimming the surface. No matter how much they longed for a comforting embrace, they weren't strong enough. Not whole enough. They could only slip back into the kaleidoscope and resign themselves as just another broken toy in the cacophony of colors.

Before they sucummbed to the endless patterns they were wrenched away. Claws dragged them from the depths. It was not gentle. Teeth. Claws. The two opposing forces refused to yield. It tore Drifter apart. The pain was familiar. It wasn't the first time they were torn asunder. It wouldn't be the last. Another fragment of the kaleidoscope. Repeating, again and again. They emerged from the endless spiral dismembered and incomplete, but they were free. There was a moment where the pain ebbed and they were embraced by a friend. Kin. Sevagoth. His claws were the ones that pulled Drifter from the depths. Both of them knew what is was to be alone in the void. Adrift on an empty ship. Lost. He was Drifter's mirror. Their shadow. Their faithful helmsman. Even now, though he tore Drifter apart, he guided them toward their destination. As Drifter woke they slipped from the embrace of his claws, broken but grateful for it.

Drifter's eyes fluttered. Arthur gently caressed their face while holding their hand. Coaxing them to return to him with gentle murmuring. The rest of the Hex huddled nearby, trying to give the two of them room but simultaneously too excited to move more than a few feet away.

As they woke, Drifter suddenly tensed and drew a sharp breath. It was subtle and something Drifter did almost every morning when they woke. Arthur knew what it meant now. The realization bled the joy from the moment. Pain. He lived it in the nightmare he had of existing in Drifter's body. The ache of wounds that never fully healed. He could feel it as if it were his own in a terrible, twisted empathy.

Arthur didn't have time to process. Drifter opened their eyes. Arthur was filled with a strange mix of joy and apprehension. Despite his tumultuous emotions he smiled and couldn't help a tear-choked, relived laugh. Bleary eyed and barely conscious, Drifter returned the smile. Immediately, Arthur knew it was a lie, forced for his benefit. He was unable to offer Drifter the same, his smile slipped. It was overwhelming. This is what they all had suffered for but he couldn't stop the voice in the back of his head from burrowing into his mind and planting doubts that everything he loved was a lie.

Drifter's smile faded as they focused on his face. "A-A-Arthur?! Your eye!", Drifter's horror was evident even in their broken and cracking voice. They brushed trembling fingertips against the metallic rot that had consumed the left side of Arthur's face in disbelief. With everything else that had happened, Arthur had forgot. Losing his blind eye had been inconsequential all things considered. Drifter's horror suddenly made Arthur keenly aware their surroundings. The stench of fetid blood filling the room. The Hex, haunted or hurt. Aoi actively bleeding. Drifter had woken up in the middle of a nightmare tailored to each of their fears.

As Arthur's eyes darted around the room, Drifter apprehensively began to turn away from him. Panic overrode reason and Arthur reacted before thinking. He roughly yanked Drifter's head toward him, pressing their face against his chest. It was less of a loving embrace and more an action of sheer desperation. He didn't know why he was trying to delay the inevitable. There was no protecting Drifter from this. Despite their desperation for comfort, it was impossible to ignore the dread seeping in. Drifter tried to speak but the effort only triggered a coughing fit. They resorted to flailing against Arthur as they wheezed, attempting to pry themselves free. Their pitiful struggle broke Arthur's heart. He had no choice but to relent his stupid desire to buy just a few more seconds of blissful ignorance.

Each battered member of the Hex attempted to hide their suffering as Drifter glanced around the room. It was a valiant but futile attempt. Their wavering smiles and rapidly concealed injuries only seemed to distress Drifter more. Their breathing gradually became more rapid and ragged as their eyes darted to each member of the Hex before focusing up to the model solar system above their heads.

"N-n-no...", their voice was small and tight, "Not h-here...void...i-it..."

There was a brief moment of calm. Like an empty shore before a tsunami. Drifter was quiet. Unable to process what was happening. Suffocating on their own words. Their wide, fearful eyes darted around the room frantically. With quiet murmurs the Hex approached Drifter, trying to offer comfort.

"It's ok! I'm ok, we're all ok!'
"We'regonnagetyahome."
"Babas, breath."
You're not alone.
"I'm sorry."

They were chasing the water out to sea. Not a single word they said seemed to break through the panic and fear. Drifter managed a deep wheezing breath that didn't quite make it to their lungs. They folded over themself, clutching their arms as if physically holding themself together.

"Why c-can't I...not t-there...no!" Drifter stumbled over words and barely formed thoughts. They began to tremble violently before suddenly jerking up and screaming. It was a furious, defiant wail against the horror they faced. Waves of fear and anger battered the Hex, amplified by Eleanor in a terrible feedback loop. Drifter's screams fractured the room and tore reality apart. From the crack in reality shadows began to writhe. What wasn't cast in darkness was thrown into a sickening disarray of colors.

"Drifter!", Arthur shook their shoulders as he bellowed their name, but Drifter couldn't stop screaming. "No! V-void...! Y-you...!", Drifters words were lost in their wailing and barely comprehendible. As the shadows formed something clawed its way from the depths. An Excalibur. His movements were unsteady and puppet-like as he pulled himself up, casting off the squirming shadows as he emerged. This Excalibur was different from the one in Drifter's arsenal. He bore Arthur's insignia. He wore Arthur's gear. This was a product of Drifter's worst nightmares brought to life. Perhaps there was a sliver of consciousness within the nightmare Excalibur, as he grasped his head before howling in harmony with Drifter's screams.

A moment of tense silence followed that display of agony before Excalibur's attention snapped toward Eleanor. Before anyone could react he had his exalted blade at her neck. Eleanor couldn't help a horrified scream as she barely dodged the incoming attack. Quincy was quick to throw his entire body at Excalibur, bashing the Warframe's head against the wall. The attack did nothing to slow Excalibur down and only served to tear away a part of his face plate to reveal rotting flesh underneath.

"No! Not a-again!", Drifter's screams morphed into something horribly desperate. The shadows swelled. Both Aoi and Amir rushed to help. The growing shadows caught Aoi's leg and she fumbled the broken mug in her hands. She managed not to drop it, but the mug was knocked askew and Amir immediately faltered, moving erratically as he lost control of his body. He lurched toward the pit. Just before he toppled into the shadows, Lettie tackled him away from the edge. She held him down while Aoi frantically tried to put the mug back together through panicked tears.

Quincy was decent at hand to hand combat, but he was unarmed and up against an Excalibur. No one else could help. Arthur tore himself away from Drifter's side and locked swords with his clone, blocking the next attack from hitting Eleanor. They were equally matched. They traded blows until Quincy tackled Excalibur, attempting to wrestle him back into the pit. There was an odd, disconnected squelching sound that accompanied the action.

"BABAS!", Lettie's distress was clear. Arthur turned back. Drifter had begun to dig their fingers into their broken skull. Fresh blood ran down their face and shoulders, splattering across the bed and walls as they continued to pry apart their head. Their screaming took on a new, horrifying pitch.

Arthur ran back toward Drifter and wrenched their hands away from their skull. The Excalibur took advantage of Arthur's absence and swung at Eleanor again. As she dodged she slipped into the pit. Quincy barely caught her, grabbing her arms as the bottom half of her body was swallowed by the shadows. Excalibur raised its blade to strike again.

Arthur, still holding Drifter's arm attempted to dash back toward Eleanor. At that moment Drifter pulled away in the opposite direction. There was a horrible snapping. The sound rang in Arthur's ears. He slowly turned back toward Drifter. Their arm was misshapen, bent in the wrong direction. Drifter didn't even seem to notice. They continued to scream. Arthur froze, still holding their arm in his hand.

Quincy managed to kick the Excalibur's leg, throwing off the trajectory of his next attack and his blade struck the ground. As Quincy pulled Eleanor away from the pit something emerged with her. An infested creature with twisted tendrils and insect limbs crawled onto Quincy. Both of his hands were occupied in keeping the shadows from consuming Eleanor. He was helpless as the creature skittered over him. As it moved onto his shoulders he locked eyes with Eleanor's face emerging from within the infested monster. Twisted in permanent agony. Neck bent the wrong way. The monster leapt off him, giving him enough momentum to rip Eleanor away from the shadows. A horrified Quincy scrambled to check if Eleanor's head was still on her shoulders. He embraced her in relief when her equally horrified and tear stained face met his.

"No no no! Please!"

The infested Eleanor surged toward Lettie, tendrils whipping threateningly. It knocked Lettie away from Amir and into the wall. Fortunately at that moment Aoi snapped the two halves of the mug back together. As soon as he regained the use of his legs, Amir rushed toward Drifter, shoving Arthur out of the way.

Amir gabbed Drifter shoulders and in a loud, reprimanding voice shouted, "Captain Mildred Petersham Marty von McFlea Jr.!"

Everyone froze. Even the Excalibur and the infested monster. That was Drifter's Fables and Frontiers character name. It was so unexpected and bizarre that it managed to break Drifter's spiral of fear. With a deep, rattling breath they fell silent. They managed to focus on Amir. As soon as he had Drifter's attention Amir smiled and spoke gently, "Have I, your noble Fable Master, ever steered you wrong? We're gonna get you home. No matter what."

Drifter hesitated. Dazed and confused, they blinked slowly and unsteadily before speaking in a trembling whisper,

"A s-story?"

Amir hesitated, then swallowed hard. His smile and voice faltered, "Yea...yeah. A story."

The tension immediately dissolved from Drifter. Like embers in the wind Excalibur and infested Eleanor vanished. The shadows and erratic colors receded. Everything returned to how it had been before.

Oh. A story.

Chapter Text

Triage. Drifter was Lettie's first priority, but she scanned the room quickly while making her way toward them. Eleanor and Quincy were shaken up but relatively unscathed. Disturbingly, Arthur had not moved from where Amir had shoved him aside. He seemed unable to look away from his hand. At the very least, he seemed physically intact. Besides Drifter, Amir and Aoi concerned Lettie the most. She didn't have a hope against the bizzare mug affliction plaguing Amir, and after exchanging a knowing look with Aoi, she focused on Drifter. Aoi injuries were less of a concern.

Drifter's fragile state of mind was obvious. The blood streaking down their face and their wild mane of hair betrayed how broken they were. It didn't help that they continuously muttered and dug their blood stained fingers into their arms. At least they weren't attempting to excavate their brain from their skull anymore. Lettie addressed their head wound first. It looked terrible. Drifter had torn it open, exposing jagged peices of skull pressing inward. It was impossible to tell what kind of damage had been caused. At the very least the bleeding had slowed to an ooze. Lettie lacked the capacity to do much else other than to clean and dress the wound. Clumps of matted, dirty hair clung to the blood caked lacerations. It was impossible to keep Difter's hair out, as it had become tangled in the clotting blood. She would have to cut their hair if she wanted to keep the wound clean. Aoi would hate that; a fight was inevitable. That was a problem for later. For now, Lettie prayed that whatever void damned curse Drifter had would keep them safe from infection.

As Lettie attempted to clean their injury, Drifter kept flinching away from her. They refused to be touched. It was just as frustrating as trying to treat one of her rats. Eventually Lettie retrieved the one thing in her kit that would help. She deposited Tláloc onto Drifter's lap. The change was immediate, Drifter softened and ever so gently brushed his velvety fur with their fingertips. Tláloc kept Drifter's hands occupied while Lettie worked.

To give Lettie a little more space, Aoi beckoned Amir into kitchen. Aoi held out the broken mug toward Amir. She spoke urgently, "Every time this separates, you go down." With the utmost care Aoi passed Amir the mug. All of Amir's focus immediately zeroed in on the mug. This mass produced, likely designed to break to maximize profit, fragile little mug was the only thing keeping him whole. Amir held it steady as Aoi began to encase the mug in metal, leaving nothing to chance. Amir nodded with excited approval the whole time she worked.

Echos of fear flooded Eleanor's mind. It was hard to get ahold of any one thought. Fear had a way of throwing imagination into overdrive. Separating genuine memory from imagined scenarios was like seperating ash from grain. It was impossible to ignore the torrent of horrible images and imagined senarios. At the very least Lettie was methodically attempting to remember everything she could about fractures and the brain. A beacon of sanity. Eleanor focused on Lettie, her thoughts were a steady stream of information. Open depressed fracture. High chance of infection. Location of injury could possibly affect vision, perception... Lettie gave pain a name, leashing chaos and forcing it to order. It gave Eleanor the courage to confront Drifter.

Peering into Drifter's mind was like trying to watch a TV with a broken antenna. She had to fight to see anything through the erratic colors and patterns. Incomplete and incomprehensible. Screaming, agonized faces, broke through the static. Haunted and hunting. She couldn't find Drifter. Only raw, primal fear and terrible self-loathing. It was the only thing present in Drifter's mind. Their calm wasn't brought by peace but by a paralyzing, crippling fear. It horrified Eleanor. There was nothing she could do, she couldn't even find Drifter. All the same, she had to help. But how? Eleanor pulled away and returned to herself. She settled onto the other bed, absorbed in her own thoughts. She breathed deeply, and cast her consciousness adrift in meditation.

Unaware of anything outside of the rat curled up on their lap, Drifter continued to carefully run their fingers across Tláloc's back. It wasn't enough. Drifter attempted to move their other hand. Lettie peered over Drifter's shoulder and spoke gently while she was busy bandaging their head, "It looks dislocated, Babas. Un momento-"

Abruptly, Drifter grabbed their injured arm and pulled. There was a familiar grinding snap. Arthur violently flinched. The rest of the Hex lurched to attention, spinning toward Drifter. Completely independently, they had reset their arm in a single practiced motion. The Hex stared in disbelief as Drifter used their newly set arm to pet Tláloc with both hands. If Drifter had been in their right mind, Lettie would have murdered them. Instead she sucked in a breath through clenched teeth, then continued to dress their head wound with barely contained fury. The entire time she was muttering furiously under her breath, but her practiced hands were still gentle.

After she was finished, she turned her attention toward Aoi. Perhaps because she was feeling a little bitter, she retrieved Tláloc before walking into the kitchen. Drifter stared blankly at their empty hands, not fully comprehending exactly why they were lonely now. They stared for a long while. The rat didn't return. It wouldn't return. Slowly. Inch by inch. Drifter hobbled off the bed. They settled back where the Hex had discovered them. In the front of the shelves at the foot of the beds. They stared at the door before them in exhausted determination. Muttering.

It didn't take too long for Lettie to finish tending to both Aoi and Amir. The injuries Aoi had sustained from the children were already healing, and Amir didn't have any major injuries save for the ones Lettie had already treated. Despite the many, many times his body abruptly slammed onto the ground, he had gotten away with just a bloody nose. They walked into the room together, while Amir strapped his new metallic mug next to his Tammpet.

For a brief moment they wondered at Drifter's chosen location, before collectively deciding it didn't matter. Amir and Aoi walked straight to Drifter. With the familiarity of having done this a thousand times they settled on either side and leaned on their shoulders. Drifter's head dipped toward Aoi, maybe through choice or because they were just jostled in that direction. The three of them stared blankly ahead at the door while Drifter described some kind of lush grotto under their breath. Amir fiddled with his mug, exploring the fascinating texture of the unnaturally formed metal with his fingers. He murmured, "We staring at doors today?"

Only Aoi replied, "Staring at doors together."

The three of them leaning against each other was a familiar and welcome sight. It was difficult for Lettie to play at being a therapist, but the warmth they shared gave Lettie the push she needed. She grabbed Arthur's shoulder and met his eye before speaking firmly, "It's not your fault." Arthur tried to protest but Lettie cut him off, "The joint was weak, it's been dislocated before...probably many times judging by how easily they reset it. Repeated injuries are common when it doesn't heal properly."

"...if I had talked to them before...forced them to talk about this..."

It wasn't deliberate, but at that moment Aoi realized she had been avoiding Arthur. Maybe lingering anger from their earlier argument had gotten the better of her. She didn't move from Drifter's side but she turned to face Arthur as she spoke, "I think we were all wary of pressing too hard with what happened between Drifter and Quincy. Anyone of us could have tried. Drifter could have come to us. But we didn't and neither did they."

Arthur looked as though a mountain had been lifted off of his back, it gave Lettie the courage to continue, "None of this is your burden. You didn't shoot them into the void, you're not Xipe Totec, and you're not that Entrati cabrón."

"Xipe Totec?", Arthur hadn't heard that one before.

Lettie had forgotten what Drifter called them, "The wall fucker."

Arthur chuckled dryly. The rest of the room followed with airy laughter. There was something about having Drifter present that brought them some ease, even if they weren't entirely present themself. The moment of levity didn't last long.

"We gotta talk about what's going on," though Amir sounded like he did not want to talk about what's going on. He flicked the mug dangling between to his Tammpet. It rang dully. He readjusted slightly, leaning less on Drifter as he spoke, "If this mug breaks...I go down?"

Aoi didn't move as she summoned an exhausted reply, "Immediately and absolutely."

"When I go down, I go home."

That got everyone's attention.

"You telln' me that's our ticket home? Breakin' mugs?", Quincy broke the disturbed silence he had fallen into.

"Not mugs. What were you guys thinking of when we got sucked in here? Cause...", Amir pulled an exaggerated smile and gestured to the mug like he was trying to sell it.

A second of hesitation was followed by a moment of realization.

"Tláloc," Lettie retrieved the rat from her pouch as she spoke his name. It had been odd. He had been so well behaved, acting how she wanted him to.

"Fuck. That's what that weird room was about?!" Quincy groaned while running his hands across his face.

Aoi was pale, she spoke in a distressed whine, "No...no! I've been making cranes constantly. They're everywhere. There's like... twenty in the kitchen alone."

"Sooooo...that's not the only problem. Going home via broken mug sucked. It sucked massively. It was like I was torn in two. I...I don't ever want to experience that again," Amir's hands began to shake as he spoke.

"So we don't break it in two, we...I dunno, smash it to little pieces?" Quincy suggested.

"Yeah I don't want to experience what that might feel like. I think we have to figure out a way to destroy something entirely. Which...," Amir laughed nervously, "Isn't physically possible!"

"We've seen Drifter do it, right? With their hand lasers," Aoi mimicked hand lasers while making inaudible 'pew pew' noises.

"Ok, but do they like...destroy things entirely or just...teleport it into the void or something. Whatifwedestroythemug and, like, apeiceofmugremains and wouldapeiceofmebeaboardtheZariman forever?!"

"You're overthinking it...," Drifter's voice was barely audible. If Amir and Aoi weren't sitting so close they wouldn't have heard. Drifter's expression hadn't changed. They continued to blink slowly at the door across from them.

"Would you be able to destroy the mug?" Amir prodded gently. Drifter didn't respond. "Ok...looks like we have some experimenting to do..."

Speaking of experiments..., Eleanor slowly approached Drifter, and crouched in front of them, offering her hands to hold. Drifter? Would you like to get some rest?

Drifter raised their trembling hands slowly, inching forward. They couldn't quite bring themself to touch Eleanor and their hands hovered over hers. Eventually Eleanor relented and instead gently tapped her forehead to Drifter's. Their eyes rolled back into their head and they collapsed into Eleanor's arms.

"What did you do?" Arthur couldn't help the concerned anger from bleeding into his voice.

I sent them to a happy place. Their happy place.

They worked together to get Drifter back into bed. Drifter was still somewhat conscious but completely incapacitated. Their entire weight rested on their friends. Arthur tried very hard not to think about how much lighter they were now. Every pound gained had been a quiet victory for him over the years. Drifter so rarely had a good appetite, and rarely finished a meal. Arthur didn't have time to linger on that loss for long. As Drifter settled into bed, they began to curl into themself. The sight filled Arthur with dread. Their back was to the wall, so that they might face any incoming threats. Limbs guarding any vulnerabilities. Head protectively tucked under an arm. This was a person who had been attacked in their sleep over and over. They had never been permitted to let their guard down. It had taken Arthur years to ever so slowly earn Drifter's trust. To get them to sleep unguarded. Now it was all undone. Years of care, of love. Gone in a single month.

Arthur couldn't contain his anger. He ran into the kitchen, fists clenched tight as he seethed and grit his teeth. Lettie's words had managed to direct his anger away from self-loathing and onto the godsdamnned ship. He slammed his fist into the wall, causing the whole room to rattle and the wall to crater. He needed to get out of here. He needed to do something before everything was lost forever. He stormed out of the dormizone. Eleanor ran after him.

Arthur?! Where are you going?

There wasn't a reply that Arthur could articulate. He didn't know where he was going. His only goal was to get Drifter off this ship as soon as possible. The others look confused.

Quincy's eyes darted back and forth in between the door and Drifter. He wasn't sure this was his drifter. Maybe the real Drifter was out there somewhere, still lost. Maybe, just maybe if he followed Arthur the terrible chewing noise that only he seemed to hear would go away. He bolted out the door.

Chapter Text

Something about Drifter falling asleep made the spectres of their past return. Erratic flashes of Drifter and their sibling. Some of it the Hex had seen before, other moments were new. There was only one common thread between the scattered moments, the slow deterioration of the older brother. They were powerless to stop it. First he stopped eating. Then drinking. Then moving.

After helplessly watching for a while, Amir spoke quietly, "You mentioned refeeding syndrome before...can you describe what it does?"

Lettie sighed in a way that betrayed her sorrow, "...it has alot of effects. Depending on what they were lacking. The symptoms are widespread. Body, heart, mind...it can all be effected."

"That...sounds serious."

"It is."

They fell silent as they watched the older brother curl up on the other bed. Almost like a reflection of their Drifter, sleeping on the bed opposite to him.

There was a clatter from the kitchen. The little girl was trying to cook. She examined devices, pressing random buttons as she went, just as clueless as the Hex were when they tried to make tea. Eventually, she found what she was looking for. She managed to open a slot on a cylindrical device. Without so much as a second thought, she shoved as many food cubes as she could into that slot before filling it with water from a pitcher that was the size of her chest. Lacking strength to do so properly, she was drenched with water as it sloshed over the rim. Unfettered, she began the random button pressing again as the device beeped at her. It was clear she was mimicking someone making food, but was guessing at missing steps. The device she was using started to make an ominous hissing noise and begun rattling.

"No no no!"

All three of the remaining Hex shouted in tandem as they dove for the girl. Amir attempted to shut off the appliance. Lettie and Aoi tried to protect her. They failed to get to her in time. It exploded. The metal lid shot out. It would have hit the girl if she hadn't dodged, but she did so poorly. She ran into one of the chairs behind her. There was no dodging the steam that blasted outward. It didn't have much of an effect on the protoframes, but the little girl screamed. Part of her face had burned. Lettie was grateful that the burns looked superficial at least. Through heavy sobs and wails, the little girl gathered the remnants of the food cubes she had tried to rehydrate.

"I-I got you some food.", she shuffled toward her brother slowly, holding the mussed food cubes in her hands, crying freely. He didn't seem to care. He lay, unmoving facing the wall "P-please eat," the little girl begged as she tried to turn her brother to face her, but he refused to be moved, "Please don't leave me." This time she managed to turn her brother to face her. She mushed a food cube up against his unmoving mouth. "Please, please, please!" The sound of her begging echoed even after the two of them vanished.

"Are these Drifter's dreams? Is this all they dream about?", Aoi's dawning horror was apparent in her voice as she sat on the corner of Drifter's bed, staring at their face while they slept.

Amir had started pacing after he had returned to the room, but he hesitated, heart sinking, "No...they have to have good dreams sometimes...right?"

"Lost my tooth." The little girl spoke as if she were replying to Amir. The three of them jumped.

Some time must have passed. The burns she sustained from the device exploding were scabbed over. She stood in front of her brother, holding her missing tooth in her hands, as if it were a precious treasure. Her older brother's only response was quiet chewing. It didn't seem to phase her, "It's my first one. M-mommy said that was special...right? That...that if I toss it up real high and wish for straight teeth it will come true. Do...do you think it would work if I wish for something else?"

She looked down at her tooth and back up at her brother. "I'm gonna wish you better, okay? I just need to find a really high place..."

The brother twitched, and rose from the bed. He was emaciated, apparent in his hollow cheeks, and sunken, dark eyes. Blood was smeared across his face, the tips of his fingers had been chewed away to the bone. He reached for his sister. Heartbreakingly, it seemed she predicted this. She had stood out of reach. Eyes brimming with tears, she ran, bolting out the door.

Arthur! Slow down!

They'd been rushing foward for what felt like an hour. Quincy couldn't keep up. If he stopped to wonder why, Arthur would leave him behind. The further they got from the Dormizone the louder the chewing sound became. Darkness began to encroach at the edges of his vision, until all he could see were two blurry figures at the end of the hall. Then it went dark.

Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck. It was only a matter of time before his sight went completely. This was it, he was-

It's just dark! It's gone dark for us too.

Eleanor offered that small bit of comfort as he trudged onward. Slowly, his eyes adjusted to the darkness, the blurry figures were even further away now, silhouetted by the faint sickly blue-green void light before them.

You have to keep up or turn back. Arthur's not slowing down.

"Tryin'" Quincy wheezed.

Eleanor gave no indication of having heard him. This wasn't normal. He shouldn't even be winded from an hour long run. It was like he had never received those damned injections. He felt very human. Very vunerable. Loath to stay in the dark he pulled a penlight from his kit. As he turned it on he fumbled it, accidentally kicking the damned thing further away with his next step. He reached toward it.

A small hand grabbed his.

Maybe it was the darkness or his blurry vision obscuring her features but it took Quincy a long time to realize it wasn't his lil sis. A part of Quincy knew his sister had grown up a long time ago, but in another part of his heart, her hands would always be small enough to fit into his just like this.

"I lost my tooth."

She spoke with a little lisp from her missing front tooth. It reminded him so painfully of the brief childhood he shared with his sis. At the very least he had been there when she lost her first tooth. He remembered hoisting her onto his shoulders so she could get a better shot at tossing her teeth onto the roof. The memory made him smile.

Quincy tried to hold back the wheeze in his voice, but it still sounded strained, "Yeah? You're growin' up! Gonna get a lil' mouse or fairy givin' you a present?"

"I'm gonna make a wish...but...it's a big one so I need to throw it onto something really tall."

"Really? I threw mine on the roof of my house, wonder if they're still there...Got my teeth to grown in healthy. You get a wish? What are y-"

He stopped himself. For a moment he had forgotten where he was. Whatever possible wish this haunted little girl had wouldn't be an easy one to grant. His grip tightened on her small hand and he stared at her burning blue-green eyes. Odd... he had never noticed them glowing before and even Drifter's eyes didn't glow that brightly.

"Your wish came true? Can I see?" As she spoke, she tugged on his hand. Quincy hesitated before fighting through the pain, kneeling and giving her the biggest grin. She pulled at his face a little, examining his teeth until she was satisfied with the quality of the wish he was granted. He grabbed her hand again and tried to continue walking but she tugged him back. It was funny, he couldn't quite remember why he had been so determined to keep walking.

"You shouldn't go that way..."

Of course, he shouldn't go that way. Her little hand pulled on his and he followed her gentle lead down dark and unknown corridors. The little girl brought Quincy to a little patch of flowers growing in the broken panels of the ship. He stumbled and braced himself against one of the shattered panels. Every breath he took wheezed, and he clutched his chest. It was burning. His brain was burning too, trying to tell him something was wrong. He was in danger. The little girl released his hand and started to sing as she wove flowers together. All the fear in his mind faded behind the fog the song invited into his mind.

"Do you miss your sister lots?" The little girl stared at Quincy, the only thing he could make out in the darkness were two burning blue eyes.

"Y-yeah."

"You're a good big brother"

"I try..." he muttered as he slid further down the wall. She approached him with her arms outstretched, pleading for a hug. A flower crown dangled from one of her tiny fingers. Quincy couldn't help but give in. Her little arms wrapped around the back of his neck. She leaned in and whispered in his ear,

"You won't ever see her again."

The little girl's oddly distorted voice tore his heart to peices. Sorrow flooded his mind. Everything he had lost, all the people he loved that he would never get to see again. Mama. His lil sis. Nan. Family. He wasn't dead but he might as well be. Trapped in never ending repetition.

"I can be your little sister...do you wanna be my big brother?"

Quincys could feel tears running down his face. It burned. Everything burned. A chance to be a good big bro. A chance to see a lil sis grow up. A chance to make it up to Drifter. The little girl's features blurred and smeared until her whole body burned with the same blue glow as her eyes.

"...yeah."

Her joyfully little giggle almost made the pain worth it. She placed the flower crown onto his head and everything went dark.

Eleanor finally managed to get Arthur to turn around. They hadn't gone far when Quincy's thoughts suddenly went silent. Despite the ship having a knack for getting them lost they sucessfully managed to find their way back. They came across Quincy's abandoned penlight and the hope that he had returned to the Dormizone was dashed.

Eleanor grabbed the discarded pen light and rushed down the adjoining hall with Arthur at her side. She knew where to go. There was something familiar calling to her. The penlight was no match for the oppressive darkness. It almost made everything worse, narrowing the field of view to a thin line. But that narrow light caught the gleam of the beads in Quincy's hair. Fresh, bloody tears streaked down his agonized face. He was crowned with silver void tendrils that crept down his head and crawled into his mouth. He wasn't moving.

"Quincy!" Both Eleanor and Arthur screamed as they rushed forward.

"No!" Something bellowed in a distorted voice, as if many were layered into one. A creature just as twisted intercepted their approach. The half formed void angel stood in their way. It's claws bared toward them. It still bore the mark of Arthur's attack, he had cut through to it's hollow center, alight with bluish green light. It shrieked, "You left him! He's mine!"

Arthur said nothing. He unsheathed his sword, and stepped foward.

The void creature retreated, coiling around Quincy, hiding behind him. He opened his eyes at the creature's touch, and drew in a pained gasp. His eyes glowed with void energy. A frightened little girl's voice emerged from the creature as it peered from behind Quincy, "Are you going to hurt me again, Arthur?"

The tiny little voice made Arthur flinch and step back. Eleanor took his place.

Let him go!

The creature embraced Quincy with their scythe like claws before replying, "He wants to stay! He said so!"

Arthur raised his sword again while he spoke, "He would never want this."

The creature murmered, "...I bet I could make you want to stay. Then you'd understand." It moved away from Quincy as it's features began to shift and change, obscured by the darkness, until Christopher was revealed in the shaft of penlight.

Eleanor immediately averted her eyes and drew a short, pained gasp. Arthur dropped his sword. He was angry. The rage he felt toward Drifter's deterioration and the damned ship still burned. Maybe a small part of it was that he was incensed that this creature would dare drag Christopher from his grave. Most of it was his anger toward Christopher. He died unexpectedly, all of Arthur's grievances were suddenly buried with him. Any anger or resentment he held could never be resolved, no matter how many tears he shed, or how often he cursed the dirt where Christopher lay. There was no true forgiveness to be had over a tombstone, only a cold emptiness that eventually got buried over time. If Christopher had really returned from the dead, he might have embraced him. They could finally talk it out. Find forgivness. This was just an illusion. Seeing him standing there unearthed a decade of buried fury. The bastard died and left him alone in a war. He made his sister cry. Arthur punched him in the face screaming with unbridled fury,

"LET HIM GO!"

The creature shifted back into it's deformed self, as it tumbled to the ground from the impact of the blow. It raised one of it's trembling claws, pointed at Quincy, and snarled in it's distorted, quivering voice, "If he wants to go, I'll release him."

Eleanor immediately ran to Quincy's side and started to jostle him.

Quincy? Please Quincy, come back to us.

There was silence as Quincy struggled to focus on Eleanor. Then he turned to face the void creature. It's voice shifted to the frightened little girl's again, "You wanted to be my brother..."

Quincy was barely audible, "Not...like this."

The creature sobbed, it's scythe like limbs retracted and it made itself small. The silver void retreated from Quincy's face, along with the crown adorning his head that withered and fell like flower petals. He could breathe again. Think again.

Eleanor hoisted Quincy up, supporting him as he regained his footing. Arthur retrieved his sword, and kept it trained on the void creature. As soon as they took a step away, it screeched in agony and leapt towards them. Arthur blocked each of its desprate attacks. It wasn't long until there was an opening in the erratic swing of it's blade-like limbs. Arthur went in for the kill.

"That's Drifter!" Quincy bellowed, lurching towards Arthur to try and stop him. Arthur shot him a bewildered look before swinging wide and barely missing. Quincy didn't have time to explain that he thought the Drifter back in the Dormizone was fake, he doubted they would believe him anyway. He quickly glanced around, forming a plan. There was an open door. Quincy grabbed the creature, and leapt backwards towards the door. Arthur immediately picked up on his plan, and rushed forward, shoving the creature into the open storage closet. Eleanor punched the control panel hard enough for it to shatter, the door slid shut and locked as the panel sparked.

There were horrible bangs, and the screeching of metal on metal as it tried to escape. Then silence before it was broken by the little girl's voice, "I'm scared! Please don't leave me in here!" Eleanor tried to cover her ears in a useless attempt to muffle the pleas for help, but it did nothing to silence the terrified thoughts echoing in her mind. The scratching at the door became softer. Human fingernails breaking against unforgiving metal. The voice on the other side unmistakably became Drifter's, desprate and pleading, "Thrax?! Thrax please. Don't l-leave me in here. I don't want to be a-alone. Please. Please Thrax. I-I'll do anything."

The implications made Arthur's stomach turn. Their desperate scratching and pleading continued,

"Please! Please I'll be good. I'll be good. Please."