Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The dark office space was cluttered with rotting office furniture and debris that had been abandoned for years accompanied by a dank, musty scent that one got used to after awhile. All was quiet in the main lobby and on the first floor. There was no power to the building and so it sat, dark and alone in the dead of night. Any valuables had been picked over many times now, but the threat of intruders or something far worse was real.

That was why Zayne had chosen an office on the second floor; it had a window that faced a streetlight so they could see what they were doing when night fell, a door with a lock, and multiple empty offices if they needed privacy.

“Ugh, why’d we let her go alone?” Caleb agonized for what seemed like the eightieth time that evening. Zayne sighed and turned his head from where he sat with his back to one of the walls on the floor while Caleb preferred to pace.

“Because she was the one who knew where the bakery was and she insisted that we stay here and rest because someone gave her the last of the food.” he said irritably. Caleb still seemed agitated, biting at his fingernails and running his hands through his overgrown sable-brown hair. His face was covered in cuts and scrapes along with a fading black eye and his clothes were filthy. So were Zayne’s. “Is there any more water left?”

“No, I’ll make some.” Zayne said passively, curling his body to reach for the gallon-sized plastic jug that they carried around when they were on the move. Caleb bit his chapped lips in worry.

As much as Caleb’s ministrations could annoy him, Zayne had learned over time to give him a break. They had been younger than he was when he was forced into the streets to fend for himself, and all they had was each other until he came along. Caleb seemed to think that his only purpose was to keep her alive and safe, and as long as it gave him the strength to keep going, Zayne supposed it was as good a reason as any to survive.

Previously, Zayne and Caleb would take turns going out in the evening to scavenge. They went out at night when the ground patrol had fewer officers. Someone could stay behind with their belongings and come looking for them if they ran into trouble. It was always a risk, but as long as they could run fast and hide efficiently, it was one worth taking over starving. Of course Zayne worried about them when they were gone, but he had to teach them how to thrive on their own in case something happened to him.

Unfortunately, ever since she had gotten old enough to join the rotation, Caleb had been a wreck. Zayne knew he would be, but letting her go out on her own was good for all of them. It gave Zayne and Caleb a chance for extra rest and it was a practice in functioning independently instead of only relying on each other or on Zayne. As painful as the lesson was, it was helping Caleb understand that she wasn’t going to need his constant protection forever. He needed to start making space for his own wellbeing.

“Seriously, she’s like ten years old.” he hissed, trying not to raise his voice. That was their rule when they came to new camp spots; keep your voice down and your ears open. Zayne scoffed, suppressing a laugh.

“No she is not, and you know that.” Zayne angled a look at him as he filled the jug halfway with a fine slush of pure white snow that would melt with relative ease into drinking water. “She’s closer to fourteen. If she was ten, you’d be 12.”

“Well how are we supposed to know? They don’t exactly give you a birthday when you’re bein’ shoved full of needles all day.” Caleb argued.

Zayne didn’t react to his words. It took Caleb years to tell him where they came from, terrified they’d be found out, but after six years on the road together now he could throw out statements like these. All Caleb knew was the name “Ever” and the horrors that they’d put them through from a young age. She didn’t remember much, and Caleb had decided not to tell her until they were older. But Caleb remembered. He remembered everything they did to both of them, and how greedy they’d been for the aethercore in her heart.

He did have a point though. While Zayne was sure that the clinic had kept records, they would have seen no reason to tell them when they’d been born. Zayne’s guesses on their ages were purely based on books he’d read in his childhood about development. Despite his stoney expression, Zayne’s heart ached for them.

Caleb finally sat down next to Zayne to check on the progress of the water, and sighed, trying to breathe out his nervous energy.

“How old are you now?” he asked, trying to remember.

“Eighteen.” Zayne answered simply. Unlike the other two, Zayne was given a birthday. By the adoption agency perhaps, but it was more than his two companions had.

Supporting an eight year old and a ten year old at the age of twelve was the hardest thing Zayne had ever done, but he couldn’t just leave them to fend for themselves. The first year was brutal. Caleb fought him at every turn before he realized that Zayne wasn’t a threat to their youngest companion. She had been silent, only speaking through Caleb for the longest time. It was a fight to make sure they stayed fed, clothed and didn’t throw themselves in danger, but they eventually found their rhythm.

All on top of what Zayne did when the two younger kids weren’t watching him. Caleb was old enough to know now, but in her eyes, Zayne was simply very efficient at killing wanderers. She didn’t know that Zayne’s nightmares would tell him where to go, showing him the face of a person who soon wouldn’t be a person at all.

His first kills had been his adoptive parents, succumbing to an illness they didn’t know they had, bodies tearing and splitting into monsters that needed to be put down. He’d lost count of how many times he’d killed an Alterum who was just on the verge of transforming, or had already begun to lose their humanity.

For a long time, Caleb hadn’t known his secret either. The only reason he hadn’t followed Zayne in curiosity for all of these years was because when Zayne was gone, he never left her side. He’d been surprisingly accepting when Zayne finally came clean earlier this year, and it was nice to have someone to talk to. Someone who knew what he was going through.

The protocores he got from the bodies of Alterum as well as the money they left behind in their wallets had been barely enough to buy necessities and they spent their time picking and choosing what was more important. Shoes? Fresh clothes? Blankets? Food? Medicine? Zayne hunched his shoulders in stress. He was always worried about the next emergency, the next crisis.

Caleb stiffened and Zayne’s head perked up when they heard footsteps up the stairs. Zayne instinctively reached an arm across Caleb’s chest, prepared to move in front of him. He tensed his free hand to summon the ice as the doorknob turned. Both relaxed when a very filthy young girl with tangles in her hair quietly closed the door behind her and locked it. She turned around, beaming triumphantly as she held up two bags, each one third of the way full with miniature bread rolls. Caleb and Zayne smiled back, and then the smell hit them.

“Ugh, meimei, you reek. Caleb complained, pulling the collar of his shirt over his nose as if he hadn’t just been agonizing about her safety. She rolled her eyes and taunted him.

“‘Thank you, meimei!’ ‘Thank you for jumping into a dumpster so the three of us could eat tonight, meimei!’” she mocked him in a sarcastic voice.

Zayne pressed his lips together to keep from laughing. He reached over to their pack of essentials to find the shower bowl and her spare set of clothes which were slightly less dirty than the ones she currently wore. He’d have to find a way to do laundry or get new clothes soon; both of them were growing, especially Caleb, who had shot up at least two inches seemingly overnight.

Zayne summoned another light frost into the bowl and handed it to her with her clothes.

“There’s another empty room next door.” Zayne said, motioning with his chin towards the left with an approving smile. “Go get cleaned up, we’ll check the bread over. You did well.”

“Yeah, we’re very impressed that you got out of that dumpster seein’ as you’re so short.” Caleb smirked. She turned to him to stick her tongue out before walking out of the room with the supplies and Caleb got up to follow her.

”Sit.” Zayne said sternly, jerking Caleb back down by his shirt. He shoved a bag of bread into Caleb’s hands to keep him occupied. “Help me check these over.”

Caleb pouted, but did as he was told, thin fingers breaking open the stale loaves to pull out any mold or bugs that could have gotten in. Zayne noticed his mood.

“She’s getting older, Caleb, you can’t do everything for her anymore. Especially not bathing. She needs privacy.” Zayne said gently. Caleb clicked his tongue against his teeth.

“Yeah I get it, okay?” he grumbled. “You’re not gonna stop me from brushing her hair for her though.”

Zayne nodded, transferring the acceptable rolls into one bag for easier storage and saving the other cellophane bag for her filthy clothes to keep the smell away from the rest of their pack. They had enough food for tonight and another day at least now. Two if they stretched it, but in all likelihood Caleb would give his portion to her, and Zayne would give Caleb another portion to make up for it. He didn’t mind so long as Caleb actually ate something, but it made tracking and saving tricky.

“Fair enough.” he conceded, happy to find some middle ground before this turned into an argument. They both went silent as they heard her footsteps back up the hall. She returned, smelling significantly better. It wasn’t as good as a full shower, but it was acceptable for now.

“How’d I do?” she said expectantly, putting her hands on her hips.

“One to two days. Excellent work.” Zayne said with a grateful nod. She clapped her hands in self-congratulation and took the portion that Zayne extended to her. She plopped to the floor to lay on her stomach, feet kicking behind her and propping herself up on her bony elbows as she broke apart the small loaf with her fingers.

Even if both of the boys were stressed out and even when she was hungry or sick, she lit up a room. She was nearing the age where she would learn harder lessons and darker secrets, but both Zayne and Caleb wanted her to keep smiling for as long as she could. There was no such thing as a childhood in this world anymore, but there were small kindnesses.

“So, what were you talking about?” she asked. Caleb’s ears went scarlet.

“Birthdays.” Zayne said with an easy smile. “We haven’t celebrated one since we met, and I was thinking that should change. People ask you about things like birthdays when you want to get a job.”

She thought for a moment as she chewed.

“I think you should pick birthdays for us, Zayne.” she said. “You’re the only one who remembers having one.”

“Ooh, good idea. Me first.” Caleb said instantly latching on to the idea. Zayne chuckled, and looked at Caleb, sizing him up as if he wasn’t just drawing a date from random.

“June 13th.” he said finally.

“Oh come onnnn, that’s so far away!” Caleb complained. Despite the immediate complaint, he grinned. “But I guess it is in the summer time, can’t argue with that.”

“What about me?” she said, finishing her bread and waving her hand at him. Zayne did the same “critical eye” towards her, a finger to his chin.

“Today.” he said with a nod. Caleb threw his hands up in faux despair, she grinned at him wickedly. Zayne held out his palm and concentrated. Delicate ice crystals formed in the air, coming together in a small cupcake with a candle in an almost transparent display.

“Make a wish.” Zayne told her, holding it out for her to blow on. She scrunched her eyes closed and kept them closed to gently blow on the ice, scattering it into a spray of snow that glittered in the air momentarily before they all disappeared. No one asked her what she wished for. In this place, wishes were too few and far between to waste.

“One day we’ll get a real cake. One that’s so big we won’t be hungry the whole next day.” she said with a smile.

“Chocolate?” Zayne said teasingly. She smiled and shoved him in the knee.

“Hey, back off, it’s my cake! I get to choose.”

“Don’t worry, meimei, I’ll buy you all the cake you want before too long.” Caleb promised her. She scoffed at him.

“Yeah? With what money? I have very expensive cake taste.” she joked. Caleb dramatically feigned clutching his chest as if she’d wounded him.

“I’ll have you know that I’m gonna join the Fleet when I turn eighteen.” he said proudly. “Then none of us will have to worry about food, and we can get a place with a bed.”

“The same Farspace Fleet that beat the snot out of you last week when they caught you taking metal from window frames to sell?” she said with narrowed eyes.

Zayne’s lips formed a thin line. Caleb knew how bad the ground patrol could be, how strict they were with the people left in the city. Caleb knew better than to trust them, they all did, but guaranteed food, safety, and salary was enticing when you were desperate.

“I’m not gonna be like those assholes–”

“Language.” Zayne interrupted him. Caleb rolled his eyes at Zayne.

“I’m going to be a pilot. And then I’m gonna move us all up to Skyhaven.” he promised. Zayne said nothing. He wanted Caleb to have dreams, to do better for himself, but the very idea of the Fleet made his stomach turn.

“I’m gonna be a hunter!” she said proudly. “Killing wanderers, keeping people safe.”

“The Hunter’s Association is gone, dummy. The Fleet does that stuff now.” Caleb scoffed at her. She waved her hand at him dismissively.

“Fine, crush my dreams.” she said sarcastically. “Maybe I’ll be a baker, and sneak out bags of actually good bread to people so they don’t have to climb through dumpsters.”

Zayne smiled softly.

“What about you, Zayne?” She asked him

“You should be a doctor or somethin’.” Caleb said thoughtfully. “Didn’t you test into that genius school as a kid? The one that gets you into college even if you’re super young?”

Zayne felt a flicker of sadness at the memory. He’d written his first essay on heart murmurs at age eleven, and his adoptive parents sought testing for him. There was a time when the future was brighter, but his calling now was completely opposite to those aspirations. He forced another smile.

“College is expensive, and you’ve seen how much Caleb eats.” he deflected.

“Hey!”

They laughed together, and Zayne was forced to admit that there were still pockets of light in this life if you knew where to look. It was understood in all of their conversations, they’d stick together, even when things got better. Even when they got older. Life was just better that way.

“Who’s turn is it to read tonight?” he asked. Caleb pointed to her and she groaned.

“Come on, Zayne! I’m tired. And, it’s my birthday!” she pleaded her case with puppy eyes.

Zayne shook his head. Reading time was not something he budged on, unless they were too sick to lift the text, one of them was reading to the rest of them before bed every night. Zayne had been lucky enough to have a mastery of reading and writing from a much younger age, but whatever godforsaken facility these two had been in hadn’t bothered to teach them the basics. They were skills they needed if they hoped to get off of the streets one day.

“Nice try. Look, I even found an article downstairs about seals.” he said, handing her the wildlife magazine he’d spotted on his first pass through the broken lobby downstairs.

“I’ll brush your hair while you do it, meimei.” Caleb said, motioning to Zayne to hand him the hairbrush from their bag. She sighed and took the magazine, sitting cross-legged in front of Caleb near the window, using the streetlight to see what she was reading.

“Seals are found along most coasts and cold waters, but a majority of them live in the Arctic…” she began as Caleb worked the brush through her tangled hair.

Zayne leaned his head against the wall, trying not to think about what happened to the people who used to work here or what they might have done before the outbreak. His body was tired, sluggish from not eating as much as he should. He knew he’d need to sleep soon, and anxiety bubbled in his chest when he thought of what the nightmares might show him.

He tried to focus on the sound of her voice, reading to them about the seals.

Chapter Text

Zayne woke in a cold sweat, a soft gasp filling the empty room around him. He looked at the clock on the window sill and sighed in frustration. He stared at the ceiling, watching the fan oscillate above him and cast shadows in the glow of the large holographic monitor on the other side of the room. It had been a pleasant dream. A great dream, even.

He’d dreamed that he was a doctor dressed in teal-colored scrubs, tired and sore after a long day of tending to patients. When he entered the house that he shared with his husband, people called his name and waved to him excitedly. A tall man with silver hair and scarlet eyes pulled him in for a soft kiss and reassured him that he was just in time. He argued, saying that he was over a half hour late, but the man who was his husband kissed his temple and said he had planned for that. He always seemed to think of everything.

His family was there. Caleb had a baby on his lap who was his spitting image right down to her smile. Her mother smiled at Zayne, asking him about his day. His briefcase was taken from his hand and a cold drink replaced it. When he sat down at the table full of food made by hand by his family, his body still hurt, his eyes were still tired, but he had never been happier.

If Zayne closed his eyes, he could still hear their laughter and smell the food on the table. In a different life, that could have been his reality. He made himself get out of bed, mind fixated on the man in the dream, who he’d come to know now was called Sylus. His heart fluttered at the way Sylus treated him in his dream. The way he looked at him, the way he made sure Zayne felt cared for as soon as he walked through the door.

Knowing he was real made him twist with a type of jealousy that Zayne was fighting not to feel. Before he knew that Sylus was a real person, it had just been nice to pretend. To close his eyes and imagine someone laying next to him. Something indulgent, harmless. Now two versions of himself to his knowledge had come face to face with their version of Sylus. Why hadn’t he?

Zayne wandered to his fridge, pulling out a nutrient drink. It provided all the things a body needed to be sustained for a day. They were cost effective, and did what they were meant to do. No more, no less. Zayne’s hand paused over the cap, fighting with himself, and put the drink back, letting the fridge close on its own. He was so tired of simply surviving. Reaching for the jar of candy on his messy kitchen table, he lifted a piece of chocolate to his lips. He wanted to live.

He drifted through his apartment like a ghost, tending to the jasmine plant that she’d given him for his last birthday. He was still stunned he hadn’t killed it but was grateful to have it, especially now. Tending to it usually made him feel normal, alive in some way. But tonight, his heart seeped with heaviness. She was still missing. His mind went back to the dream, where she and Caleb were married, happy and thriving. Everything he’d tried to make sure they had in this life, and failed to.

He eyed the pieces of a broken comms scanner in his kitchen trashcan. Caleb hadn’t spoken to him in months and when he finally did, it was clear that his grudge would last forever. He blamed Zayne for her disappearance, and Zayne let him. Zayne sighed. He needed to replace that scanner. Not having access to the Fleet’s communications made things trickier, but he almost had enough squirreled away now.

Zayne grabbed a fistful of chocolate from the jar and shuffled back to his bedroom to watch the screens, tracking Alterum in danger of turning with a series of green dots and red dots across a map of what used to be Linkon City. On nights like this, he waited, he watched.

It had been over two months since he’d learned that the dreams he had of another life were real memories that belonged to someone else. The version of him that had the life he wanted. He’d learned this from yet another version of himself who had somehow broken a barrier between realities which had allowed a vengeful god to sneak into this world. The evidence had been somewhat compelling, granted that the person telling him all of this was wearing his face. The hulking dragon that Zayne had almost killed with an ice spike in his living room that had the face of his dreams didn’t hurt either.

He pinched the bridge of his nose. It sounded completely absurd when he thought about it altogether like that. Had he gone completely mad? Perhaps he’d made all of it up, or had a particularly vivid dream. Maybe all of this was a sign of some sort of breakdown. It wouldn’t be unfathomable given the trauma, lack of sleep and recent stress in his life…

A green dot on the map flickered red about two blocks away from his location, and Zayne sighed with relief. He took no pleasure in what he did night after night, but the distraction was better than spiraling in his apartment alone, dreaming of a life he’d never have. He wasted no time getting dressed; pressed shirt and pants, vest, tie, coat as if he was going to a funeral. It felt silly to him to put on a uniform at times, but at others he felt it was the only thing that kept his identity clear, his mission outlined, and his mind focused.

He gathered the essentials; wallet, key, handful of chocolate, and he stepped out of the door. Outside in the hall, the lights hummed oppressively and Zayne’s eyes had to acclimate to the change while tolerating the sound. He glanced at the closed door in front of him and saw light underneath the door gap. Someone walking around.

Zayne walked on, past the door and to the elevators. Visual hallucinations, he told himself. That’s all it was. No cosmic duty, no paranormal reason for his otherwise wonderful dream, no–

The door of the apartment opposite his own creaked open behind him. Zayne’s hand found its way back to the bridge of his nose. You can still ignore it. You can still pretend this isn’t real. he thought to himself. No, that would be too sweet a mercy. Even more delusional than believing that he was a doctor with a husband and a family.

He heard footsteps behind him, and as much as he wanted to ignore them, he turned.

“Dawnbreaker.” said the voice in a greeting. Zayne cringed at both the title and the tenor. Both belonged to him. Someone precisely as tall as he was stepped next to him, also waiting for the elevator, a paper face mask in his hand and a jacket with a hood tossed around his shoulders.

The sorcerer opted for the comfort of more casual clothes when he traveled here to help him blend in. Loose fitting tshirts and jeans or slacks and a sweater or a hoodie to cover his marks when he went outside. He didn’t seem to like anything that was fixed around his neck, even something as soft as a turtleneck. Zayne wondered why. The only articles of clothing he kept from his preferred attire were his black leather gloves, and his sturdy, comfortable boots. Even in the most casual of dress, Zayne felt humbled by the Godeater. There was an energy about him that was uncanny, ancient, as if his eyes had seen eons go by.

“Godeater.” Zayne acknowledged him. They’d learned very quickly that it felt too strange to call each other by their own name, so they used titles instead. “When did you get back? I thought the portal opened in my living room.”

“About two hours ago. You were asleep.” Godeater said. Zayne bristled. Could he really sleep through a home invasion like that? Someone appearing in his apartment and then escaping through the front door quietly? “Dreams again?”

Zayne nodded silently, eyes shifting towards the door of the elevators it opened with a ring. They both stepped inside quietly, and the elevator began to travel down. The first time Godeater had entered this elevator shaft, it had been an odd sensation for him. Now he seemed calm and unfazed with practice.

“What about you?” Zayne asked him, passing him a foil-wrapped candy Godeater took it with a nod of thanks. He looked tired, slouched over and leaning against the elevator walls. “Can’t sleep?”

“I’m restless. And I’m out of chocolate.” he said, popping the candy into his mouth. Zayne suspected it was more than that.

On the days he came back to Zayne’s dismal plane of existence, he was usually filled with homesickness. Though Godeater never brought it up, Zayne could tell that he missed Sylus terribly, and he’d rather walk the streets or get some air than have to twist about it in a small apartment alone. The apartment across from Zayne’s had been abandoned, and Zayne had offered it to the Godeater to stay in when he traveled here. As much time as they spent together training and planning, any version of Zayne still appreciated their personal space and Godeater had gratefully taken him up on the offer.

Their arrangement was strange to say the least. Godeater split time between Zayne’s world and his own, typically a month with Zayne and a week or two with Sylus. He’d been working on helping Zayne control his dreams and seek information from his nightmares, hoping that he’d be able to find his Sylus or his friend. As it stood, not much had changed, and the only Sylus he dreamed about was the one married to a doctor. Godeater’s time in his own world wasn’t for pleasure, but for teaching more advanced magic to his Sylus. The time would come when the veil needed to be sealed, and Godeater wanted him to be prepared.

It was still a very bizarre feeling to Zayne, being neighbors with himself. Despite this, it was nice in a way to have someone else to speak to, even if looking at his own face for too long made his head spin.

The elevator reached the ground floor with an echoing ding and the doors opened to show them an old, dilapidated lobby. There was typically no one here, but occasionally Zayne would see someone trudging up the stairs, or the man he paid to keep the generator on in their units would be about, making minor repairs.

“Don’t forget your mask.” Zayne reminded Godeater with a nod of his head as he left the elevator shaft, walking out onto the filthy tile floor of the lobby.

“Be careful.” the sorcerer remarked after him. Zayne waved behind him in acknowledgement.

Zayne opened the heavy door that had once been mounted with glass but was sealed over with particle board with a heavy creak. Cold air ruffled his hair and teased at his neck like a greeting as he stepped onto the sidewalk of an empty street. Black frost worked its way up Zayne’s hands and collar, and he took a breath to try to steady himself in the pain. It was something he was used to, but it still could prove uncomfortable at times; the tingling, needling feeling of frost pricking his skin.

His mark was only a block away, and Zayne hurried. He was mindful of the security cameras mounted at certain street corners, and extended a freezing, arctic aura around himself, cold enough to disable any basic electronic device as he walked.

Tonight’s mark was on the street, shuffling awkwardly. The man who was no longer a man tore at his own skin. Hooked tendrils erupted from his shoulders and arms in a mist of blood, and the sounds he made were guttural and strangled as if he was being choked. His back was facing Zayne, and he hadn’t yet spotted the reaper walking with purpose up the sidewalk while a large spike of blackened ice appeared in his hand. Zayne’s face was a cold mask of indifference and purpose, and he felt himself cross the thin line between himself, and the Grim Reaper.

Without a sound, Zayne clamped a hand onto the shoulder of the Alterum from behind and rammed the stake of ice through his back to pierce his heart. Blood gushed and flowed as the Alterum sputtered before going limp and falling to the cold concrete below. Zayne purposefully did not look at his face as his body started to dissolve into blue metaflux. Zayne quickly checked his pockets and found a wallet in the back pocket of his denim jeans that were quickly dissolving right along with the rest of him.

He picked through the wallet, looking away from the disappearing form as he did so. He’d felt guilt about taking their belongings at first, but when he’d started this habit, he had two other hungry mouths to feed. He did what he had to do. His heart lightened just a fraction when he saw a cluster of faded bills as well as a bank card. He pocketed the wallet, and looked around him for any witnesses before he continued on his path. He could finally spring for that new scanner. He guarded his thoughts, grateful for the lucky break, but reminded himself not to get used to it.

Chapter Text

There were many ways to get into Diyu, and each one was a different pain in the ass. The route Zayne always chose to take was through the lower levels of an abandoned facility. Overly complicated, but it was the one with the least amount of people trying to go to the same place. He walked through the empty hallways listening to his footsteps on the concrete echo against rusted metal walls. Whatever this place had been, it had no name now. Zayne theorized that it had once been a water treatment facility, given its proximity to the sewer systems.

He walked down a creaking staircase of rickety metal that he was certain was not safe in any way. The railing had fallen off ages ago and the rusty stairs shook as though the steps were threatening to fall off. He took the door at the bottom and came to a hallway framed in the same rusted dark metal as the upper floors with an incline in the concrete floor to bring him deeper and deeper underground. Before he reached the bottom, he took a door to his left which led to another staircase to access a tunnel system.

The way from here was full of twists and turns that one had to memorize lest they be lost in the massive system of tunnels. Zayne knew the way like the back of his hand; a left here, another right before a sharp left. Finally, he arrived at an elevator that he trusted almost as much as he did the deathtrap of a staircase on the top level. Still, there was no other way down from here, so surely someone was maintaining it.

The sound of voices and crowds got louder as he descended, and came into pure earshot as the doors opened to show him the underground city of Diyu.

The walls and tunnels were carved out of stone and the packed rocky substrate of the natural underground. The air was dusty but breathable thanks to a ventilation system set into place ages ago. When the outbreak of Protocore Syndrome had just begun, what used to be Linkon City had established a bunker meant for leaders and the fabulously wealthy in a small space underground. Zayne supposed that people could be resilient when they wanted to.

When the government was usurped by the Farspace Fleet, people still managed to find this place, escaping from the outbreak above. When more people had shown an interest in leaving their homes, they had expanded it, maintained it, and found a way to live. Diyu had a reputation for being a lawless, crime-ridden place, but the will to survive was still very much alive.

One had to be careful when they walked these streets, minding their pockets and avoiding the gaze of people who would sooner shoot you than look at you. Still, there was a satisfying irony in knowing that this place was intended for the rich and privileged only to be used and brought to life by the poor and disenfranchised.

The place had its own electrical system, mounted in powerful bulbs around the rocky walls and short street lamps, giving the space a warm glow from the earth-colored walls around them. There was also the glint from inside of hundreds of alcoves in the impossibly tall walls where people had carved out single-area apartments to live in, accessible by long ladders or intricate pulley systems.

There was a time when Zayne had considered moving his family down here, but for a trio of kids, surviving would have been far more difficult. Zayne’s calling necessitated living on the top-side to be close to the things he hunted. And for all of its charm, this was still a very dangerous place, and it was far easier to be swept up in organized crime such as the Rogue’s Collective or the substance and weapon trades. He didn’t want that for them, he didn’t want desperation to make them do something they couldn’t take back or be locked into an organization they couldn’t leave. Zayne scoffed, thinking of Caleb in his Fleet uniform. A lot of good those ideals turned out to be.

Zayne focused, moving through the streets of the various districts to seek out the Merchant District. Smells from the Food District made his mouth water; the thick scent of spices, sweet smells from a bakery displaying brightly colored pastries and macarons, and the sounds of street food being fried up by street vendors tickled his senses. He kept promising himself that he would come back to try more of their offerings, but there was something so bitter about doing it alone.

The businesses in the Pleasure District used red lights to designate their buildings and tents. The scents in this district were of smoke, soured alcohol and sweat. He cut through this place rather quickly, avoiding the shouts and coos from the pleasure-cruisers; men and women standing in front of the brothels and tents trying to get his attention.

“Zayne!” someone called to him in a shrill excitement. Zayne froze, and a mixture of embarrassment and irritation crossed his features. He kept walking, but someone was trying to keep up with him. He sighed, turning to face the speaker. He should have nipped this in the bud ages ago.

A man close in age to Zayne, about mid-twenties came trotting up to him. His soft features clashed with the harsh eyeliner around his glazed brown eyes and slicked back hair along with the leather harness that teased access to his toned, bare chest. Fresh red welts were present at the crook of his arm, the delicacies of the Pleasure District. He gave Zayne a loose smile. Zayne regarded him coldly, waiting for him to speak.

“Long time no see, stranger.” the man cooed in a slurred, saccharine voice. It made Zayne’s skin crawl. “I’m so lonely here without you…”

Zayne’s eyes flitted back to the crowd behind him. He looked back at the young man with a dry expression.

“Not interested.” Zayne said, not a hint of emotion seeping into his words.

The man in front of him pouted at him in a way that only annoyed him. One of his many regrets; money ill-spent on casual sex in a dirty room trying to drive off his own loneliness and feed his baser urges. On a darker level, perhaps he just wanted someone to look at him and pretend that they really saw him. The orgasms were satisfactory, but the sex had been bland and made him feel nothing, only hollow and understimulated. Now, he couldn’t even remember this person’s name.

“Look, the clientele tonight has really sucked.” The man dropped his smile and his voice was low, tongue loosening with whatever substance he was on at the moment. He circled Zayne’s wrist with eager fingers, raising a hand to fiddle with the metal brooch at Zayne’s chest. “Come on, I won’t even charge you…that cock in your slacks was the best thing that ever happened to me in recent memory. Please? Just one more little romp in the sheets?”

Zayne flicked his wrist to shove his hand off of him and backed away, a frown curling on his face. His gaze was cold, sharp and cruel.

“Your services are no longer needed. And they haven’t been for months. Leave me alone.” he said coldly. “I suspect your recent memory will erode soon with that garbage you put in your arm. Be sure to forget me when it does.”

The man’s face soured instantly. And he scoffed at Zayne, brown eyes narrowing in malice.

“I know what they say about you. “Dawnbreaker,” “Grim Reaper.” Just because you’re good in bed and can kill a few Alterum doesn’t make you better than the rest of us. Get off your high horse, repression is ugly on you.” he spat, glaring at him before turning on his heel to walk back to the crowd. Zayne eyed him coldly. He could think what he wanted. Zayne let go of an irritated sigh, and continued on his way.

Zayne walked into the Merchant District, happy to be free of the smells of carnal, petty desires at last. It looked like a market; there were stalls set up everywhere that typically ran around the clock if they were able. Some storefronts existed in these blocks to hide higher quality merchandise in places that were easier to guard, but the one he was looking for was at the end of the block, next to the very wall of the carved city.

The old man running the stall might have looked decrepit, but in his time coming down here, Zayne had seen him break a man’s arm for trying to run off with merchandise. And for good reason; these were wares specifically stolen from the Fleet. Zayne was hazy on the details, but his understanding was that they’d been supplied by the Rogue’s Collective specifically for him to sell, and he had some kind of deal with them to make a cut off their efforts. It would explain the astronomical prices at least.

“Ah! Grim! Good to see you again!” the old man beamed, showing a smile with several missing teeth. Zayne nodded at him politely. He knew it was simply business, but the way this merchant spoke to him was a tad endearing to him.

“I’ll need another scanner if you have it.” Zayne said, eyeing the selection behind him of various technologies; electronics, gadgets, weapons of all sorts were displayed around and behind him like trophies, a contrast to his warm nature.

“Don’t tell me the last one broke on ya? No refunds if it did, I’m afraid.” the merchant said regretfully. Zayne shook his head.

“No.” was all he said. The elderly man shrugged and shuffled to his display to pull another model exactly like the one that Caleb had demolished with nothing more than a touch in his apartment. The merchant named his price and Zayne felt his insides curl with the number, though he didn’t say a word out loud.

“Oh, before you pay, I just got something new in stock.” the old man said, reaching underneath the table he kept and pulling out a small data stick. “It’s a login for the Fleet system, access to the database. They say this one is programmed to last longer than the usual twenty-four hour reset. No one’s confirmed so I’ll give it to you for a discount.”

Zayne pulled the bills from the stolen wallet and his own, calculating the cost in his head. His mind flashed to images of the A.S.T.R.A plaque on his old machine, and images of Caleb, then of Sylus. It was nearly all he had to buy both machines, but a sense of importance came over him.

“I’ll take both.” Zayne said with a nod, handing over the credit bills. The old man smiled, not reacting in the least to the obviously stolen wallet in Zayne’s hands. “Do you happen to have any information on the A.S.T.R.A taskforce?”

The old man set to packaging Zayne’s current purchases and shook his head.

“Not at the moment, no. They keep it under lock and key in there. Most of this equipment is stolen from transit.” he said with a sheepish look. “I can ask around for ya, but there’s not much anyone seems to know on the outside.”

Zayne nodded thoughtfully, and asked another question.

“Do you remember selling me a brooch with a red gem?” he asked. The man chuckled, bagging up Zayne’s wrapped purchases.

“I think this is the most I’ve ever heard you talk at once.” he said. Zayne sniffed, looking away at the teasing. The old man chuckled again good-naturedly. “Yeah, I remember it. If you’re askin’ where it came from, it was in a box of Fleet equipment someone lifted off the facility. Didn’t think I’d ever get rid of it, but they charged the premium because the risk was higher to break in. Guess one of them saw something shiny and swiped it.”

Zayne pursed his lips in interest. He paid and grasped the plastic bag with a grateful nod to the old man, who waved at him with a kind smile as he walked away. He made his way back to the elevator when a stream of children ran by him, and Zayne felt the telltale flutter of fingers at his side. His left hand shot out to grab the child by his skinny wrist, and he looked down at him coldly, seeing fear on his filthy face.

Zayne felt his heart soften though his expression did not change, remembering what it was like as a child who was doing things he shouldn’t simply to survive. He kept a hand tightly around the young boy’s wrist, and shuffled his parcel to lace the loops of the bag around his wrist. Digging into his coat pocket, he looked back at the boy who was wincing as if bracing to be hit. Zayne pulled his wrist forward, and planted a foil-wrapped chocolate in his palm. The boy stared at him with confused eyes, and Zayne let him go, motioning with his chin to get out of his sight.

As the boy took off, a confused look on his face, Zayne made his way back to the elevator to head home. That boy could have easily been him. To some degree it was, though Zayne had never been adept at pickpocketing. None of the trio had. They just hadn’t mastered the slight of hand, and there had been no one there to teach them. Instead, they relied on scavenging; food, metal, protocores, plastic, anything they could sell off for a few credits.

Zayne’s heart hurt at the thought of his little family, and his guilt was evident on the skin at his neck, blackened frost threatening to crawl up his collar to his jawline. He chased police reports and missing persons sightings. He’d gone back again and again to the place where he’d seen her last. He’d asked for information, and let himself be scammed out of credits in his pursuit. But nothing new had developed. Still, he had to have hope. She was smart, she was tough, and Zayne still felt with all of his being that she was alive somewhere.

He let his thoughts torture him as he made his way home, eyes alert for any disruptions, and ducking out of sight when Ground Patrol drove by in their needlessly shiny cars. Zayne’s lip curled in disgust. The Fleet had trained the public so well to be pliant and obedient for them; curfews, crackdowns of illegal materials, shutting down every social media platform and television channel except for a select few.

“Temporary.” they had said when they first took power from the hands of local government. And yet, they’d been here for nearly as long as Zayne had been alive. The streets seemed clean, but they remained empty. Businesses had gone under, people had died or left. And what was left of the general population on the top-side was either blindly aligned to the Fleet or they stayed inside, letting themselves rot with their VR technology as they imagined a better world.

Zayne trudged back into his apartment building, taking the elevator and rolling his neck to work out the kinks. Dawn was beginning to creep up over the horizon, and he needed sleep, but his curiosity would not allow it. Not until he at least looked at the data he’d purchased. He noted that the lights were off in the Godeater’s apartment. Zayne assumed that he’d come home already, but he’d check in when he’d gotten some rest.

In his apartment, he diligently set up the new scanner in it’s place near the window for better signal, and looked at it numbly. It was as if nothing had happened. Nothing at all.

He shoved a piece of chocolate between his teeth, and reached for a loose panel in the island of his countertop that separated the kitchen from the living room. Removing it, he drew out a laptop, prompting it to life with the press of a button. Curious fingers shoved the data stick into one of the ports and waited for the Fleet databases to load. It was typically personnel and employee files, occasionally case files and plans that were subject to being redacted depending on the access of the login he was using.

When it finally loaded, Zayne tested it, searching for Caleb in the database. It returned public information; his ID number, his name, his face and rank. Then he tried her name. [NO RESULT FOUND] blinked back at him in red. He sighed. Whatever. This was still good for finding out about “sanitation days” and “cleanup efforts” when Ground Patrol was more likely to roam the streets at night when Zayne was trying to chase leads on new Alterum.

Zayne felt a tag of curiosity nag at him as his slender fingers hovered over his keyboard. What’s the harm? he thought, and typed in a new name. [SYLUS]

[NO RESULT FOUND.]

Zayne scoffed, slamming the laptop closed in frustration, sweeping a hand through his longer hair. Honestly, what did he expect? It was a long shot anyway. He got up form his table, annoyed, and loosened his tie as the morning sun poured through his window. He needed sleep, and he was just exhausted enough to let it take him now.

___

Miles away, a gunshot rang out. Certainly not the first, but definitely the last. The soft thud of a body dropped to the ground. Blood bathed the small room in a dark scarlet, a true massacre. At least, it would have been if the people inside the small room hadn’t deserved what they got.

Someone picked up a set of keys from a pool of blood, shaking them to get the gore off of the silver rings and black plastic with a jingle.

A phone vibrated, the only sound in the room now that the dead lay quiet. A notification.

[SEARCH TERM: “SYLUS” TRIGGERED]

“Interesting.” said the one holding the smoking gun.

Chapter Text

Zayne woke in the late afternoon, haunted by a nightmare. He pulled himself out of bed, pausing to stretch his aching muscles from the night before. He heard a deep rumbling sound in the room and his body tensed, looking around him in the empty room. It took a moment through his sleepy haze to realize that it was his stomach growling. He shook his head, raking a hand through his shaggy hair as he approached the screen in his bedroom full of green dots.

It had been so many years, but he still had trouble identifying his own hunger cues from years of near-starvation. In the past, the trio had always reminded each other to eat regularly once acquiring food stopped being a concern, but now that he was on his own, he still had to consciously think about it before fatigue set in.

He looked at the map critically and used a stylus to circle a nearby alleyway, marking it with a date and a number to signify when his most recent nightmare of a woman and her companion would succumb to their illness. Seeing no immediate threats that Ground Patrol couldn’t handle during the daylight, he wandered to the living room to check the scanner. A dial flip had it buzzing as it was meant to with the busywork of overpaid and under disciplined Fleet officers twitting about various petty crimes and disturbances, with the occasional Alterum sightings that they rounded up for transport to a holding center or dispatched if necessary.

A flare of anger burned in him at the very idea of the "holding facilities,” which were nothing more than open areas where the near-dead were forced to finish their sick transformations, in fear and tearing at themselves and others in a crowd panic before being gunned down en masse when their humanity was finally gone completely. While Zayne didn’t believe that honor implicitly came with death, he still believed in dignity. The barbaric practices of the Fleet didn’t surprise him, but they still disgusted him beyond measure.

Zayne’s disdain followed him into the kitchen with the background noise of the new scanner, opening his fridge to finally drink one of the nutrient supplements he knew he needed now. The lack of taste slid down his throat and he settled into the couch for a quick re-run of an old show, one about surgeons in a hospital. His liquid meal, designed to be tasteless, became bitter in his mouth as he watched two surgeons stop an elevator to embrace in a deep kiss. Still he watched, taking in trashy television like that pleasure-cruiser had taken in drugs. Something to turn his mind off for the next few minutes.

Zayne swirled the clear liquid in the bottle idly. The pleasure-cruiser had been right about one thing; Zayne wasn’t better than anyone else in this city of the damned.

He clicked the television off when the credits rolled on his show, and chucked the empty bottle into the trashcan in the kitchen before padding across the linoleum floors to the bathroom to brush his teeth.

His ablutions were always quick. A splash of water to his face, brushing his teeth, a quick brush through his hair, and a shave if necessary. He locked eyes with himself in the mirror, the green of his eyes striking even if they looked tired from lack of sleep.

The mirror shimmered in front of him. Zayne froze, staring into his reflection as if to confirm whether or not he’d finally lost it. The silvered surface rippled again, and this time the reflection changed. He was staring at himself, or rather, his other self now. Shorter hair, lack of piercings in his ears, and the impression of a red bat-like wing on his forearm.

Zayne sputtered, half-choking as the antiseptic taste of toothpaste hit the back of his throat. He coughed, sending a spray of toothpaste at his reflection, clinging to the surface of the mirror. The Godeater stiffened in surprise, nose wrinkling with the display in front of him. When Zayne caught his breath, he noticed that the background in the reflection wasn’t of his own bathroom, but of the living room in the apartment across the hall. His other self cleared his throat before he spoke.

“I’m experimenting with mirror communication, I did not realize that you were awake.” the Godeater said matter of factly, as if Zayne would know what he was talking about. “I’ll consider this a success. Are you ready for another lesson?”

Zayne exhaled sharply through his nose in irritation and spit into the sink, wiping his lips with his thumb to allow him to speak.

“I’ll be over in a moment.” Zayne said tersely. Godeater gave him a curt nod, and the reflection rippled back to normal. Zaye waved in front of his reflection, checking to make sure it still followed him. He scoffed, shaking his head. He needed to get his counterpart a cellphone.

He rummaged through a drawer to pull out a small elastic and tie his hair back at the nape of his neck; his irritation was sending him into a mood where even the feeling of his own hair on the back of his neck was pissing him off. He grabbed the notebook he’d kept by his bedside, and didn’t bother changing out of his sweats to cross the hallway in his bare feet. He took a breath, calming himself before he knocked on the door. They each had keys to the other’s apartment, but it felt more polite to knock.

His other self opened the door and stood out of the way for him to enter, and Zayne nodded in acknowledgement, stepping inside. He looked around the small apartment, and the only thing that had changed was a large ornate mirror with a gold frame mounted on the wall. The angle it was positioned in was familiar enough for him to put together that the Godeater had used it to contact him just a few minutes ago. Zayne handed over the notebook and pointed with his chin towards the mirror.

“What was the purpose of that experiment?” Zayne asked him as his counterpart flipped through the notebook.

“Eventually, I’d like to establish communication between realities.” he said, not looking up from his reading. “If I’m not here and you need help or we need to call my Sylus for aid, we would be able to.”

Zayne nodded. Reasonable. Maybe he didn’t need a cellphone after all. He sat down on the couch, eyeing the blank TV in the middle of the living room. He wondered if the Godeater watched television at all when he wasn’t helping Zayne or trying to sense Astra. His other self closed the notebook for now and took a seat on the opposite end of the couch.Zayne already knew what was coming.

“If you can dream of him, you can reach out with your mind while awake.” the Godeater told him, folding his legs underneath him as he perched on the couch, back perfectly straight and spine tall. Zayne mimicked his posture, taking a deep breath and sitting up straight, eyes falling closed as they normally did when Godeater led him in meditation. “Picture his face, his voice. Call out to him with your mind.”

Zayne sighed and tried to do as he was asked, picturing the man he’d seen in dreams; the silver hair, those cunning scarlet eyes, his cheshire lips, slightly upturned at the corners even at rest. The angle of his jaw and the deft, long fingers that reached for another Zayne. Stop. he chided himself. Just focus. He gathered everything he knew about him, and how his heart pretended that he could hear the call coming from Zayne at this moment.

Something sprung behind his eyes. He squeezed his eyes as a blinding white light came into view. He heard heavy breaths, panicked and angry, as if he was trying to escape. A wiry humming noise eclipsed the sounds of breathing as they picked up in short frequency. He could see anything past the bright light. Then, a deep, silky tone laced with fear whispered in a half–growl: ”No.”

The vision changed. This time, he felt pulled, as if by a chain around his neck as he fumbled to get back to the bright light and the unmistakable voice but failed. He found himself at the opening of a cave, looking over an icy outcropping. The mountain was vast, and bitter wind cut at Zayne’s cheeks as he tried to get his bearings. It was like he had been thrust into another dream. He whipped around, looking for Sylus, wondering if he’d heard the call after all, but froze when he saw the scene before him.

Bodies littered the floor, blood and ice pooling around in a sticky massacre. Fallen guns and shells from expended rounds glittered along the cave floor, and he saw himself. He knew it was the doctor without hesitation, tied to him like a millstone. But this was no happy memory.

On his knees in the blood and gore, the doctor cradled a figure that was quickly disappearing. Black crystals had torn through his skin, rendering him unrecognizable to the human eye. The doctor was suppressing a sound, perhaps a sob or a scream as he watched the figure completely evaporate into thin air. He examined the blood on his hands with a numb, shellshocked expression on his face before his eyes drifted up to look directly at Zayne as if he could see right through him.

“Wake up, Zayne.”

Zayne shouted as he came out of his trance, a sheen of sweat suddenly going cold on his skin, and a burst of ice rushing out of him violently. Godeater caught a spike of ice in his gloved fist before it could hit his body, but his television, wall and couch cushions were blown apart in the blast. He looked at Zayne with a calm face, tossing the blackened icicle aside.

Zayne looked at his hands, tinged with a deep black frost that was spiraling up his arms. He closed his eyes, trying to force back his emotions and breathe.

“What did you see? Did you find him?” Godeater said, sitting forward with interest. Zayne nodded, his lungs burning as he took heavy breaths.

“I heard him. It was his voice, but I couldn’t see. I couldn’t find him. It was just a white light, blinding.” he said, brow furrowing.

“And then what?”

“The Doctor. This one was different. Usually it’s like I’m him, I’m feeling what he’s feeling but this time I just watched. I got pulled out of the vision for it. He saw me. I know he saw me.” Zayne babbled, explaining the grisly scene on the mountain with as much detail as he could.

“Again.” the Godeater said with a nod. Zayne looked at him incredulously, and Godeater simply crossed his arms. “You were closer. If the vision starts to change again, fight it. Don’t just try to hold on, fight. We can worry about the doctor next, but for right now, focus on Sylus. One thing at a time You can do this.”

Zayne blew out a heavy breath and swallowed, nodding his head as he closed his eyes to try again.

Try as he might, he couldn’t push past the bright blinding light and the sound of heavy breaths. He tried moving, he tried controlling his hands or speaking, but none of it worked. It was the same thing on loop. Terrified breathing as if he were having a panic attack while a distant thrumming sound buzzed in the background, and then the distinct sound of Sylus’ voice saying ”No.” It was half threat and half plea, vulnerable. Scared.

Zayne came out of the vision again, and he wasn’t sure how many attempts he’d gone through. The mountain never came back to his mind’s eye after the first attempt, but the bizarre nature of it weighed heavy in his mind. His teeth grit in frustration. He took another breath to try again when he felt a gloved hand on his shoulder.

“Take a break.” Godeater said firmly. “You’re burning out. You won’t get anywhere without a clear mind. You need time to sit with this.”

“No. What I need is information. He was right there, I can feel him. I just need to see where he is.” Zayne argued.

“You can’t force this.” Godeater told him. “You’ve gone further than you did before; you saw something related to him, and you can call it at will now. That’s not nothing.”

“He sounds like he’s in trouble. I can’t just ignore that” Zayne shot back. The blackened frost began to reappear on his limbs painfully. Godeater pushed him back by the shoulder, forcing him to sit back on the shredded couch.

“Unless you could infer the date, you have no way of knowing. This could have already happened. It could be in the future. Walk away for now and come back to it. There must be another clue in what you’ve seen, you just need to realize what it is.” Godeater said, keeping his tone firm and solid while staring Zayne down with a frown. Zayne avoided his eyes, drawing his gaze to his feet and brought a hand to the bridge of his nose.

“Fine.” Zayne said, getting to his feet. He tried to keep his face neutral, cold, but failed. A determined look lingered in his sea glass eyes that Godeater founds unsettlingly familiar. “We’ll pick this up later. I’m going out.”

“What are you going to do?” he said cautiously, studying his movements.

“There’s something else I haven’t tried yet.” Zayne said simply. “I’ll be back soon.”

Godeater stared after him, a question on his tongue, but decided that it was best not to hold him back. He remembered his own short fuse and frustration in learning some of this for the first time. Zayne just needed an opportunity to work out the clues he already had.

Zayne crossed the living room of his own apartment to get to his bedroom in search of clothes to throw on. If he wasn’t going to get answers from divination, he was going to get them the old fashioned way. He was sick of this; things weren’t progressing fast enough and he felt as through he was grasping at straws. He walked briskly in the cold night air, so tense that he didn’t sense the shadows that seemed to follow him through the darkness.

___

Briskly, Zayne walked the streets of Diyu. He hadn’t formed many relationships with the merchants here for information buying or selling, only relying on his dreams for his Alterum activities. When he’d sought information about his missing friend, he’d only found scams and dead ends. He needed someone he had some sort of rapport with. And so he found himself back at the stall of the old man from the night before.

“Back so soon, Grim?” he said, eyeing Zayne with a broken smile. “Don’t tell me you need another scanner.”

Zayne shook his head.

“I need information on a person.” Zayne told him. “I understand that you typically deal in wares, but I was hoping that you might have a recommendation for someone who can get me more information. Details, whereabouts, anything would help.”

The old man nodded in understanding.

“Well you’re right on that, but there still might be a few things I can dig up for you. Who are you looking for?” he asked kindly.

“His name is Sylus.”

The old man froze. His frail smile dropped and his fading brown eyes widened.

“Be very careful with how you use that name around here, son. The walls have ears.” he said in a suddenly hushed tone. Zayne quirked an eyebrow.

“Is he dangerous?” Zayne wondered out loud.

“He died a few months back.” said the old man. “He went by Carrion down here. No one’s used his real name in years.”

Zayne went pale, heart thrumming in his chest. The vision came back to him, the sound of Sylus' voice. ”No…”

“What can you tell me about him?” Zayne pleaded. “Anything.”

“You’re going to have to hear the story from someone far more foolish than me.” the old man sighed. “He was aligned with the Rogue’s Collective. You know I can’t say a word about them.”

Zayne watched him subtly take out a slip of paper and scrawl a name in the surface before folding it.

“I’m sorry I can’t help you.” he said, holding his hand out to shake Zayne’s. Zayne frowned, an eerie feeling prickling at the back of his neck as he took the merchant’s hand, feeling the drag of paper against his palm. “My free advice to you is to stop looking. Nothing good has come of asking questions about that one ever since he was killed.”

“Thank you.” Zayne said with a nod. He slipped his hands into his pockets, slipping away to find a place to read the contact written out for him. Of someone far more foolish to purchase information from.

Four hours later, Zayne was several thousand credits poorer, but had an envelope in his hands. He had needed to draw the full amount of money form the bank card he’d lifted from a Alterum the night before, but he had to know. A sick, dizzy feeling settled into his chest. If Sylus was dead, then what? What were all of the dreams for? The yearning for someone who saw him, the deep ache when he thought of never knowing him or seeing those striking eyes in person? The feeling that somehow they were connected? His hands gripped the large envelope to keep them from shaking.

Urgently, he made his way home, not trusting anything but the privacy of his apartment to read answers he wasn’t sure he wanted. His heartbeat pounded in his head, and it was the only thing he heard from the elevator to his apartment, unlocking the door with shaking fingers and slipping inside. He didn’t even take the time to remove his coat, sitting at his table to wrestle paper out of the envelope. His eyes narrowed at the page in front of him, holding what appeared to be a report of some sort.

“CARRION : KING OF THIEVES

Little is known about Carrion’s background or how he came to align himself with the Rogue’s Collective. However, there exist many reports of his incredible prestige within the Rogue's Collective, earning him the title “King of Thieves” for his ability to complete any job and take any item or piece of information to date. His reputation secured him a high calling price, and services never came cheap.

Paired with his mercurial nature, habit of stepping outside of clearly defined rules and guidelines within the Collective, and distaste for immediate authority, employing Carrion carried high risk and high rewards.

Aside from Carrion’s unprecedented abilities, he was known to have the ability to see a person’s most ardent desire. Some report accounts of his right eye glowing as if seeing into their minds, while others attribute this to his charming manner, ability to read body language, and apply classic psychology techniques in his favor.

Some report that he possesses the ability to fly. Others liken him to his namesake for his taste in fine goods and partiality towards gemstones.

Reports of his death surfaced after a job put out to a team of the Collective’s most veteran rogues to infiltrate and steal information from a high level facility rumored to be operated by the Farspace Fleet. [Details of job unavailable at the time of this report.]

He was reported by eyewitnesses as being caught during this endeavor by the Farspace Fleet’s provided security in the facility and studied before his untimely death at their hands for tresspassing, larceny, and resisting arrest. [Date approximated: XX/XX/XXXX]

The Rogue’s Collective suffered an exorbitant loss in patronage due to his death, and have put a hold on all jobs related to this unspecified facility and matters of the Fleet, choosing to purvey all goods associated with them in transit deliveries from the manufacturer or lower risk job offerings dealing with Ground Patrol or certain sector facilities only.

Rumors began to circulate of the nature of his capture, but have since gone silent following a string of incidents ending in the disappearence or outright death of those who have attempted to discover the nature of the job or the final whereabouts of the prodigy of the Rogue’s Collective.

As a result, Carrion’s name is rarely heard or spoken within Diyu, treated as a nearly superstitious omen of bad luck and misfortune. Some speculate that the disappearances of these people indicate involvement from the Rogue’s Collective attempting to maintain their reputation, while others report that Carrion’s ghost still walks the streets of his long-time home, listening for his name.

[The above is a report assembled from remaining eye witnesses, private rumor and accessible records kept by the Rogue’s Collective. Please incinerate post-examination of this document.]”

Zayne’s face felt numb and his lips tingled with an uncanny feeling. His chest felt hollow as if his very heart had been carved out of him entirely. Two schools of thought warred within him:

Sylus was dead. The report came from eyewitnesses. The Rogue’s Collective suffered from the loss of him in spades from the sounds of it. The dates cited in the document reported his death as being close to five months ago, around the time that Zayne had begun to dream of him. Was it a sign of his passing that they were destined to never meet?

The other side of the coin was laced in suspicion. Someone described by others as a “prodigy” and who was so feared that no one dare speak his true name, even after death was simply captured and killed? What about his vision? Did it depict the time of his death or expose a falsehood?

Zayne’s mind swam with conflict. His chest felt raw as if he’d been crying. A deep sadness pulled at him, and he felt like he had no right to claim ownership over it. Was it his right to mourn someone he hadn’t met before? His prerogative to resent the other versions of himself that knew him and fell in love?

Black frost had started to stain his hands once again, and he felt the painful prickle of it crawling up his back, building into a deep ball of anger and defeat. With an aggravated shout, shards of dark ice barreled out of him to embed themselves in the walls of his apartment in a jagged display.

Zayne tiredly hauled himself up form his place at the table, shoving his heavy coat off of his shoulders and letting it drop to the floor listlessly. His chest weighed with exhaustion, and his fingers were numb from the black ice that crowded his hands. He tried to calm down, tried to reason with himself. But tears still pricked at his tired eyes. Had it really been too much to hope for? Was there even a purpose to keep up the search for something more concrete when the words were spelled out on the page in front of him, despite the last shard of hope he seemed unable to let go of?

He barely remembered pulling his sweats on or laying down when the dreams took over to embrace him.

Chapter Text

The streets of Diyu were host to secrets and wanton desires alike. Shadows found home here, degeneracy found paradise, but the man sprinting through the alleyway found nowhere to hide. His lungs burned in his chest and his mind raced as he turned onto a crowded street in the Pleasure District to lose his pursuer. He had to get out, he had to hide.

He ran through the crowds like a madman, shoving people who turned to swear at him and hurl insults as he tore by in a frenzy. His eyes darted around, looking for sanctuary. He chanced a glance behind him, and couldn’t find the person who had been chasing him. Rather than a small comfort, he found himself even more terrified. The most dangerous type of shark was one you could not see coming for you.

He was getting strange looks from people on the street now, but he didn’t pay them any mind as he ran hands through his hair, slicked in sweat from running. He was too far away from the Collective’s base to seek shelter there, and if he went in that direction, he knew that he was as good as dead.

Terrified eyes darted at one of the elevator shafts that lead top-side. If he could get to the surface, he could find a safehouse, and barter with information about his pursuer that was more valuable than gold. He sprinted to the elevator shaft, shoving someone out of the way when it opened and frantically pressed the button to close the doors over and over. He pressed his back against the dated metal of the elevator shaft, whimpering as he panted, legs turning to cement.

A loud BANG summoned a terrified cry from his throat. Something heavy had landed on top of the elevator shaft. He heard footsteps above him, taunting him, playing with him. A warmth dripped between his legs as he felt his bladder betray him in fear. The elevator dinged at the top, and the doors creaked open. He stayed where he was, too afraid to leave the metal box. His limbs shook and he cowered, determined to stay here for the night if he had to.

He squeezed his eyes shut, as if willing away the boogey-man. The footsteps above him stopped, and the only sounds now were the whimpers and gasps from the man who fell to the floor of the elevator shaft, curled into a ball. The doors began closing again, and a splinter of hope entered his mind.

A hand reached out to grip the door tightly, pushing it back open.

“No, no, please! PLEASE!” he groveled, clawing at the walls as if it would help him hide. He felt someone grip his ankle and yank him hard to haul him out of the shaft while he begged for his life. He twisted as he was pulled, trying to crawl away and clawing the ground until his fingernails shredded and bled. A dull pain bloomed in the back of his skull and his vision stuttered, going hazy as his eyes closed and his vision went black.

When the man awoke, he was strapped to a chair with his arms bound around his back. A plastic tarp was draped over the chair, providing a barrier between him and the seat and fanning around the floor. He looked hazily around the room, the back of his head throbbing and crackling with dried blood as he moved his neck to look at his surroundings. A warehouse of some sort?

A hanging lamp originally intended to hang over a desk directly above his head provided the only spot of light in this dark area, and no one seemed to be around. Gathering his awareness, he took several deep breaths, trying to recall everything he’d learned about escaping from capture. He twisted his shoulders and hands, trying to find a give or weak spot in the rope and cried out in pain when he dislocated his shoulder to attempt to escape. A chuckle echoed in the dark, deep and luxurious like velvet.

He heard footsteps, walking with an easy pace but with purpose towards him.

“Don’t bother, Johnny. Escape art was never your strong suite, was it?” an unmistakable voice crooned to taunt him. Johnny shuddered, heart thrumming in his chest, and a cold sweat racing down his face as he saw a dark figure approach.

“Y-you’re alive!” he stuttered out in fake relief, a shaky forced smile on his face. “Thank god…we all thought you were dead!”

“Oh, Johnny.” The figure in black from head to toe finally stepped into the light, and a tall man loomed over him. “Believe me: you wish I was dead.”

The feeble light of the hanging light cast his face in half-shadow, the light hitting one crimson eye staring into him with hatred, while his right eye was covered completely in a leather patch. His silver hair had grown out, longer and shaggier, pulled back into a small tail at the nape of his neck to keep it out of his face. His plush lips were curled into a satisfied smile that did not reach his other features, but simply served to show his teeth.

“Sy, come on…we didn’t know, we thought– AUGH!” he screamed as Sylus drove a thick blade into the top of his right knee with no hesitation, clearly unimpressed with Johnny’s excuses or lies. Sylus clicked his teeth in a tsk noise, bending down to one knee to get a better look at Johnny’s agonized face as a dark stain of blood began to flower and bloom over the leg of his jeans.

“Careful, now. I hear that my name is bad luck these days. Wouldn’t want to run into any misfortune, would you?” he taunted, flicking the handle of the blade with his fingers to make Johnny cry out in pain..

“What do you want?” Johnny whimpered, face ghost-white from the pain. “Anything you want; information? Money?”

Sylus tapped his cheek with a gloved hand as if in thought. Then his smile was back, sharp and cruel. He reached for the large bowie knife embedded in Johnny’s leg and drew it out slowly to let him feel the full weight of the curved blade and every single tooth of the opposite serrated edge. Johnny’s screams were high pitched and animal in nature, tears flowed from his eyes with the maddening sharpness of the blade and his heart was beating at a dangerous pace now. Suddenly the blade was trained on his neck, sharp tip angled to bleed him like a pig.

“I want to make sure that every one of you traitors who sold me out for coin meets the same fate as the one you thought you’d given me.” Sylus hissed through his teeth. Suddenly, the blade disappeared from his neck and Johnny chanced a glance at Sylus’ face, wincing when Sylus looked up at him as he wiped away thick blood from the blade. “But you know I love a good game, Johnny, so let’s play.”

Sylus dragged over another chair, metal grating against the concrete with a twisted, horrid noise to place upon the plastic.

“Since you had such faith in your escape abilities, perhaps I’m underestimating you.” Sylus said with a condescending air about him. He circled Johnny, leaning over to place the handle of his knife in Johnny’s dominant hand and close his fingers over it firmly. He made his way back to sit in the metal chair that faced his captive. He set a dial on his watch, showing it to Johnny in good faith.

“Twenty minutes. That’s double the time that the Rogue’s Collective considers acceptable for a bound escape and I’m going to pretend that I don’t notice the cutting you’re already doing to those ropes now, you cheating snake.” Sylus spat at him. “Go ahead. Show me that you deserve to keep your miserable life. Succeed, and you’re free to go. No strings attached.”

Johnny cringed at Sylus’ insult, but his face reflected an expression of pure hope. He was part of the Collective too, wasn’t he? Especially with a knife at his disposal. He could do this…right?

“Any questions?” Sylus said, finger hovering over a button over his watch. Johnny shook his head frantically to signal “No.” Sylus nodded and began the timer.

Johnny picked up his pace, flipping the blade in his hand to saw at the ropes with the serrated edge of the tactical knife. Sylus crossed his legs, sitting back to watch him struggle with an almost bored expression. The first ten minutes flew by, and Sylus could tell that Johnny was trying to concentrate through the pain and fear, but was utterly failing.

“We were friends once, Johnny.” Sylus said, a mere trace of emotion in his voice, barely detectable against the cunning cut of his words. “We were both just boys when we joined the Collective. I never would have accepted money for your neck. I want you to know that.”

Johnny refused to look at him, swallowing another whimper as his fingers stuttered with a swell of emotion. His face looked full of regret and sadness, but there was no more room for regrets. Not anymore. Johnny swore, trying to feel the fraying of the rope for evidence of his progress as time ran out. He hissed, his sweaty palms fumbling the knife and felt it clatter to the floor underneath him. He shook when he realized that the rope simply wasn’t fraying as he’d hoped it would and looked up to Sylus in shock.

“What kind of rope did you use?” he asked him. Sylus folded his arms, clicking his teeth again with a deep frown.

“I gave you ample opportunity to ask questions, Johnny. Three minutes.” Sylus said coldly. He stared down the desperate man, who was crumbling under the gaze of a single red eye that belonged to a friend he had betrayed in cold blood.

Johnny scrambled, trying to create looseness in the rope and enough give to wriggle out or find a knot, just as he’d been taught. He’d realized Sylus’ sick game. Sylus bound him in a high-grade cord, likely lined with steel or some other uncuttable metal, and then planted a knife in his hands, knowing that it was all but useless. He had known all along that Johnny would take the “easier” way out instead of taking the time to lean on the lessons they’d learned together through their training. He swallowed again. He should have known. Sylus may have played by fair rules, but he never played a game he couldn’t win.

The short beeps on Sylus’ watch chimed through the air. Time was up, and the delicate, pleasant noises were bells for his execution. Johnny’s face screwed up as he began to cry, begging and babbling for his life. Sylus rose from his chair softly, walking to the area behind Johnny’s chair calmly and picked up the knife on the floor.

Turning to face the back of the chair, he kicked out with his boot to tip the chair forward and dump Johnny’s bound form onto the plastic tarp while he cried for mercy. Sylus turned him on his belly and put a knee to the small of his back, burying the knife in his back. Johnny wailed in pain, hot tears streaming down his face. Sylus reached for him to deliver a blow to his face when he felt a vibration at the pocket of his tactical pants. He kept his knee on Johnny’s back as he pulled his phone out to check the notification. He chuckled. Ahead of schedule.

Sylus sighed at the squirming man underneath him.

“We’re going to have to cut this short, as I have another engagement. Good news for you, though. I’d planned to draw this out for far longer.” Sylus said, gripping the knife in Johnny’s back and pulling it out with great force. He fisted Johnny’s hair, bringing the cowering man’s head back and his neck exposed. “How ironic that the Grim Reaper would be your fountain of mercy.”

Sylus slit Johnny’s throat. Cold, precise, no hesitation. Blood spurted from the force of the wound, splattering in patterns on the plastic tarp before a flood of it escaped from the wound to cover them up on a crimson pool. Johnny gurgled, a disgusting guttural noise coming from his mouth before Sylus let him drop to the ground, dead.

Sylus stood to look down at his work, a flutter of raw sadness and betrayal pulling at his chest. His face fell, and he winced as a dull headache formed in the front of his skull. He closed his eyes, bringing his emotions back to baseline, and felt it slowly recede. His face went back to neutrality and he turned his back on a former friend.

Walking over to the desk in the back of the room, he turned on another lamp before picking up a soft cloth to clean his blade. The wall in front of him was illuminated now, showing a small collage of photos, police reports, and scribbled notes. At his eye level, Sylus took in the blurry picture of a man with medium-length hair brushing his collarbone, face glaring in the direction of a wanderer with black shards of ice gleaming from his fingertips. The Grim Reaper. Dawnbreaker. He felt a slight prickle in his head, developing to almost a buzzing sensation as he played with his knife between his long fingers.

Sliding the knife into his boot, Sylus picked up a pistol from the desk and checked the magazine before he tucked it into the holster attached to a leather harness that strapped across his broad chest and fit over his black turtleneck comfortably. He let his hair down, and glanced back at the photos, running a hand through the silver layers in thought.

It was such a shame that The Reaper had to die; he was quite attractive.

Chapter Text

Finding Dawnbreaker’s location had been easy. Finding out anything else about him hadn’t been quite as simple. Sylus hadn’t minded; he had always enjoyed puzzles. There was plenty of information about why he was wanted by the Fleet, but it was as if all of the records on “Dawnbreaker” from the police department had disappeared overnight.

The Fleet had sent summons after summons for him to appear for questioning in a disappearance case, but no appointment was ever documented. Add that to a long history of curfew violations and suspected manslaughter, it was no wonder they weren’t his biggest fan. Interestingly enough, no one seemed to know his real name. Even official arrest warents were typed out with his alias.

Sylus had needed to dig a little deeper, going into Dawnbreaker’s past. The earliest sightings had been mentioned in a newspaper clipping from over nine years ago. The article spoke of someone taking down Alterum, then called “abominations.” There had been a public outcry for his arrest, launching a debate about murder vs. euthanasia, and at what moment a person stopped having the rights of a human. It was this publication that had coined his nickname, “Dawnbreaker,” while others at the time had stuck with the classic visage of the Grim Reaper. He must have been just a teenager around that time. Sylus thought, impressed.

Sylus had found it utterly fascinating, reading through the material on the nights he’d staked out the run down apartment complex from the roof of the building across the street for signs of life. His hiding spot easily found by tracking the digital signature of the computer that searched for his name in the Fleet’s database. With so few tenants left in the building, Sylus had watched all sides of the building, keeping track of how many lights in windows turned on and off..

Narrowing it down hadn’t been too difficult, but his lucky break had come when he spotted a man in a black coat return to his apartment building close to morning and slip inside. From there, all Sylus had to do was watch the windows on the front-facing side, and wait for the light to come on in the unit. The Reaper had even had the courtesy to keep the blinds up for him. Sylus had been waiting for him, his good eye trained through the scope of a sniper rifle to get a better look, and that was when he saw his target’s face in focus for the first time.

It had been odd; a dull headache with a pricking, buzzing sensation had filled his head. Thoughts of pulling the trigger, spilling his blood had overpowered him. The thought drifted through his head as if it belonged there, cemented in stone in his mind.

Kill him.

When Sylus had looked back through the scope, Dawnbreaker was disappearing through his front door, likely to the neighbor that he kept company with occasionally. He’d missed his shot. Oddly, the thought of missing his mark didn’t frustrate him or make him grit his teeth. He had only shrugged, packing his weapon away for the night with the promise to gather more intel.

From what he’d seen of Dawnbreaker, he was quite savage in a fight, and his Evol was strong. Sylus would need more information before striking. He didn’t question the thought alone, he killed nearly everyone who went looking for him. It was what he was supposed to do…right?

He might have been able to buy the information he needed from the Merchant’s District. He certainly had the money, but he needed to stay hidden. The Rogue’s Collective and the rest of Diyu needed to believe that he was still dead, at least for now.

If he was being honest with himself, he probably shouldn’t have killed Johnny just yet, but when he saw the little bastard that night while tailing Dawnbreaker, he couldn’t help it. His fingers had simply itched for revenge. He’d made the time, assigning Mephisto on surveillance duty to alert him when the street-assassin had turned in for the night. And it had all brought him here.

Sylus looked down over the empty street from the top of Dawnbreaker’s building, estimating how far down he needed to climb. Given that the Reaper lived on the tenth floor, it would be child’s play. He likely didn’t need the rope at all, but it was always better to have a solid backup plan.

Mephisto came to rest on his shoulder, trilling in his ear and pecking at the strands of Sylus’ hair around his collar as Sylus gave a cursory look around for any surveillance cameras about. He snapped his fingers to prompt the mechanical crow to hop onto his closed fist. The bird obliged, and opened his beak to display a video feed of what he’d seen before he turned off the lights and retreated to his bedroom.

Dawnbreaker had seemed nervous about something, frantically opening an envelope of information and reading over a few of the documents. Sylus had been tailing him closely enough to know that he was looking for information on him, but had diverted course to deal with Johnny before he saw what he actually ended up with.

He watched the footage of the Reaper finish reading the paper in front of him, and saw his face drop with a mix of emotions. His eyes were downtrodden, like he was holding back tears, and a mix of sadness and anger seemed to fill his thoughts before he shot several spikes of ice into the space around him. Sylus noted how the camera angle shook when Mephisto bristled at the force. Soon after, he turned off the light in the dining area and went into his bedroom.

“This won’t take long.” Sylus purred with a smirk, satisfied that he hadn’t missed anything. He wasn’t an assassin by trade, but he was far from helpless considering that he’d grown up in a den of thieves and killers alike. He slid the mask back on his face, a gas mask he typically used to conceal his face on job and blend into crowds. While his intention was to kill the only person in the apartment and leave no one to identify his face, it helped quiet his breathing as well which would only help him in such a small space.

The mechanical crow took off from his shoulder, and Sylus picked up the rope, repelling down a short distance down to the window of the apartment he sought.

He peeked through the window, eye adjusting to the darkness to verify that he was in the right place. He checked his surroundings to make sure he wasn’t being watched by anyone on the street, and pulled out the tactical knife from his boot. With precision, he shimmied the thinnest part of the blade under the jam of the window, wrenching it open just enough for him to widen the gap between the pane and the sill with one of his hands.

He engaged his Evol, using it to transport him in a silent red-black mist to the inside of the apartment without any unnecessary noises. He let his sight adjust a bit more and looked around. At the window sill he’d come in through was a jasmine plant, sporting a single bloom.

The soil in the pot looked dry and dusty on the top, waiting to be watered when morning came. Sylus picked up the watering can next to it and silently watered the plant thoroughly. Even though its owner would be dead before dawn, Sylus supposed the lonely flower deserved a few more days to live.

He turned to the rest of the apartment, carefully stepping about the linoleum floor, muting his steps with practiced care. He looked around the dark apartment, and found it to be bland in decoration. The only personality this place had was in the stark holes in the walls that Dawnbreaker had made in a fit of frustration with his Evol earlier, and the messy papers on the table next to the kitchen area.

Curiously, Sylus looked at the document on the top of the pile next to a laptop. He smirked when he saw the information the Reaper had ordered about him. He read the page dryly; usually he’d consider this someone’s ticket to an unfortunate fate but with the glaring bits of misinformation he saw, Sylus wondered if he should put the writer on the payroll instead.

Sylus’ gloved fingers slid over other piles; the various summons notices he’d received from the Fleet that he clearly had no intention of answering, various articles and reports that had been made about him, and a few of the same missing poster that featured a photo of a woman with a bright smile on her face. Sylus didn’t see any other missing persons reports or posters. What made her special?

A glint of something metal reflecting the light from the streetlamps that poured through the window caught Sylus’ eye on the floor where Dawnbreaker had left his coat. Sylus crouched down to examine it. The silver brooch on the lapel of the jacket was a crest of some sort, fashioned with striking swirls and a central staff positioned in the middle. If it was anything Sylus appreciated, it was things that had shine, even if this was a poor example from the tarnish and various scratches and chips from fighting. He smirked as he took his trophy, pocketing the brooch.

Sylus suddenly found himself wanting to unravel the secrets of the man behind the mysterious moniker, but there was a reason he was here. He quietly drew his pistol, and pulled a silencer from one of the pockets of his tactical pants, screwing it to the barrel quietly. He always kept a round in the chamber, so he had no fear that he’d accidentally wake him up by sliding one into place. He crept quietly to the door of the Reaper’s bedroom, thankful to see that the floor inside was made of carpet instead. He checked his boots, using his Evol to wick away any stray dirt or blood, and walked inside slowly.

He reminded himself that Dawnbreaker excelled at physical combat when his senses demanded that he remain alert. His reflexes were razor sharp. Sylus thought highly of his own abilities, but there was no reason to be stupid; he had to do this in one strike while his target slept. He couldn’t give him a single opportunity to use his Evol.

Sylus made his way over to the left side of the bed where the Reaper slept, face peaceful and jett-black hair fanned out on his pillow like a hark halo. Sylus took in the details of his face; a heart-shape with an angled jawline and a flat chin. Narrow, soft lips and a strong nose. Sylus had been right; he was quite attractive, even more so up close now that Sylus could see the built muscles of his shoulders and abs peeking from where his tshirt had ridden up on his waist in sleep.

Truly, such a shame. He lifted his weapon, lining up the shot with his good eye before his finger curled around the trigger.

“Sylus…” the Reaper murmured. Sylus froze, eyes going wide. His heart rabbited in his chest, thinking he’d woken the man in the bed. Instead, his eyes stayed closed, and he turned to reach an arm out to the empty space on the bed next to him, fingers fanning out as if looking for the person that should be next to him. His tone was so warm, loving.

A pain in his head began to blossom. The thought he’d had before, urging him to kill the person who’d just said his name like a prayer resurfaced. This time it was louder, angrier than before.

KILL HIM. KILL HIM. KILL HIM!

Sylus almost doubled over with the pain as he lowered his gun, forcing his throat shut so he wouldn’t make a sound. He didn’t want this, this was wrong. Something deep in his chest told him not to do it, prevented him from pulling the trigger no matter what the urges in his head said to do.

And then it was as if something had fizzled out or broken inside of him. A switch flipped. The pain slowly subsided, and he felt the urge to kill Dawnbreaker gone from his head as if it was never his idea to begin with. He bristled, hearing a change in breathing from the man sleeping on the bed in front of him. His shoulders tensed and Sylus knew he’d been woken.

Sylus engaged his Evol and teleported out of the room, escaping out the slit in the window sill before his sleepy eyes could find him. Clinging to the rope he’d left for himself, Sylus quickly closed the window sill behind him, just in time to hear a loud “Who’s there!?” from the next room.

Sylus swore internally as he scrambled up the side of the building to throw himself onto the roof and grab his rope behind him. That damned headache had distracted him. No, it had been more than just that; the way his name was said, so softly as if to a lover, had completely changed everything. He felt a disturbance in his chest, heart thrumming with a needy ache.

He wished he’d been able to stay. He wished he could have watched his sprite-like face for hours, mimicking his breathing patterns as he rested, drank in every sigh and prayed for him to say his name one more time…

What did Dawnbreaker want with him? And why was Sylus reacting so strongly to it now? His heart thundered in his chest as he replayed the images in his head, trying to assure himself that he hadn’t just been caught. He wasn’t certain what had woken him to begin with when he was so careful. What on earth was so special about the Grim Reaper?

From his perch on the roof, Mephistio eyed Sylus with a ruby gaze, cocking his head in curiosity.

“Don’t look at me like that.” Sylus said irritably, unscrewing the silencer from his weapon with a scowl. The urge to take a life had completely left him, and he couldn’t fathom that he’d thought that way at all. What replaced it was an indecent itch in the back of his mind.

He wanted more. He wanted to know every single thing about the Reaper; where he went, what he did in his day to day, who he spoke to, if those pretty lips ever smiled…He sighed at the thought of it. He wanted to tangle himself with the Reaper’s shadow, never far behind him no matter where he went or what he did. It felt twisted, obsessive, but he hungered for it.

Sylus took out the brooch he’d stolen from his coat, fiddling with it in his hands and bringing it closer to admire the scratches. A prickle of energy teased at the back of his neck, and he smiled wickedly behind the mask.

“Let’s start with your name.” Sylus murmured.

__

Zayne woke midmorning, suspiciously well-rested. He raked a hand through his tangled hair. His mouth felt dry, and his eyes were sore. He’d begun to dream last night of a bright white light, the same one that seemed to accost his visions and shroud something about Sylus that was achingly close to being discovered. And then something woke him up.

He couldn’t remember hearing anything, but the overwhelming feeling that he wasn’t alone had him jumping out of bed and looking frantically around an empty room. He shook his head, groaning. It wasn’t uncommon for him to wake to a vivid memory or nightmare. Years of hypervigilance as a child did him no favors as an adult. It had probably been nothing, no matter how real it had felt in the moment. By some miracle, he’d been able to go back to sleep, untouched by dreams for the rest of the night.

His chest ached, thinking about the document on his kitchen table that told him of Sylus’ death at the hands of the Fleet for breaking and entering. It still didn’t seem quite right to him that someone with Carrion’s reputation would be killed so easily. He sighed, not looking forward to the conversation he was going to have to have with Godeater about it. For some reason, the thought of talking about it at all seemed painful.

In the end he was going to need to make a choice: keep looking, or accept the fact that Sylus was dead. Zayne got out of bed, shuffling to the living room in thought. He picked up his coat that he’d discarded on the floor and hung it up in its place on the hook next to the door. He narrowed his eyes, smoothing out the lapel. His brooch was missing. It hadn’t been anything valuable, just something that had come with the coat when he’d found it in an abandoned department store. It must have come off when he was running home last night. He sighed at his carelessness.

He chewed his lip thoughtfully, walking back over to the table, eyes scanning the document with Sylus’ alias on it. If the vision of a bright list were indeed his final moments, Zayne felt as though he owed it to Sylus to see it. If Sylus had been alone, he deserved to have someone else know what happened. Someone who cared about it enough to look. He’d keep trying until the big picture showed itself, no matter how painful it seemed. And if he was wrong, the dying ember of hope that Sylus was still alive might just be brought back to life yet.

He went to the window, reaching for the watering can and checking the bloom of Jasmine in the morning sun. He froze, looking down at the dark soil. He reached with a fingertip, and an uneasy feeling ran through him. He put down the watering can. The soil was moist. His jasmine had already been tended to.

A deep shiver ran down his spine.

Chapter Text

Sylus looked at the collage on his wall in the empty warehouse, studying the photos he’d taken. What was once a small cluster of vital information necessary to prepare for an assassination had bloomed into a chaotic mural of Dawnbreaker. Photos Sylus had taken in secret, clippings and articles nd police reports, notes and observations. Ever since the night in his apartment, Sylus hadn’t been able to stop thinking about the Reaper with a sick preoccupation.

In the days that followed, the thought of killing the Reaper hadn’t re-entered his mind in the least. The flutter he had felt in his chest at the sound of his own name hadn’t returned either. What had stayed behind was nothing short of obsession. A need to know absolutely everything there was to know. Sylus followed him on his hunts, watching him move with grace and power to put a stop to some poor bastard’s tranformation or put down the wanderer that resulted. Sylus tracked his kills in a notebook.

He noted the times the Reaper went out, and pinpointed when he was the most likely to go to the convenience store down the block and what type of sweets he preferred. He watched Dawnbreaker conversing with a neighbor, who always seemed to wear a cap low on his forehead and a disposable mask on his face as if to hide himself.

The Reaper’s sleep schedule was a cursed thing; despite knowing exactly when he was most likely to be on the move each night, Dawnbreaker didn’t seem to adhere to a specific pattern of sleep at all. Instead, electing to drop into bed when his body was pushed to the limit. Sylus had found it tricky to keep up with him, but Mephisto’s unnoticed presence and recording capabilities picked up the slack for Sylus when he couldn’t be nearby.

He watched the Reaper in the same way a scientist looked at a rare bird, or how a child examined a colony of ants. He didn’t feel any true connection, only pure fascination for how he behaved and what he would do when he had no idea that he was being observed. Sylus still had yet to discover why this Reaper had whispered his name or why he had searched for him in the first place. He knew logically how dangerous it could be for his plans if Dawnbreaker started asking the wrong people, but he couldn’t seem to pull the trigger that would end his life. So Sylus watched. He collected data, and he waited. Who are you, Reaper?

On a whim, Sylus performed a search on the name he’d found on the missing poster in Zayne’s apartment. She didn’t seem to have a birth certificate, but the private security company that employed her as a bodyguard didn’t seem to care. Seeing her employee badge, Sylus chuckled at her sunny face as he imagined her in hand to hand combat or shooting a weapon. He’d had his ass handed to him too many times throughout his life by women in the Collective to assess her based on appearance alone, but the duality never ceased to amaze him. If anything, it made her deadlier. He couldn’t shake how familiar she looked to him, and he frowned. He wondered what happened to her, and made a note to circle back to her disappearance.

As he went through her employee profile, he stopped when he saw a field, names, and phone numbers: “EMERGENCY CONTACTS: Caleb Xia (XXX) XXX-XXXX | Zayne Li (XXX) XXX-XXXX” Sylus followed the breadcrumb, first looking into Caleb and finding him immediately through the public record. A Captain of Sector Enforcement? he thought, scrawling notes on a fresh page in his notebook. If the missing woman was connected to Dawnbreaker, was the Captain connected too? He searched up the second contact, and his cursory search yielded nothing. Not even a cellphone bill.

Sylus regarded it as a hint all on its own. If someone was truly private about themselves, or was too poor to afford a phone contract through a large company, such contracts were easier to find in the Merchant’s District of Diyu– and they didn’t ask for a real name. He had a good feeling about Zayne Li.

He looked closer, accessing Zayne Li’s surname from records kept before the Fleet occupation in what used to be Linkon City. He found thousands of names, and narrowed it down to people with children. Little by little he whittled down his search until he finally found his answer. On the holographic screen of his computer, an image emerged. The face of a small boy, no older than ten years old with haunted eyes and jett-black hair appeared. Sylus grabbed one of the photos he’d developed of Dawnbreaker and held them close. If the shape of his chin and lips hadn’t sold him, his stunning green eyes did. Found you. Sylus smirked.

Zayne felt good on his tongue. A strong name. Sylus had to admit that it fit his face and his manner in a way he couldn’t describe.

The rest of the record detailed an adoption, and Zayne had taken the last name of his adoptive parents. It was facilitated after the Fleet began their imposition in Linkon to handle the outbreak of Protocore Syndrome and Alterum, but the records had been maintained until the adoption agency went under. He followed the trail even further, looking into his parents and finding grizzly crime scene photos of two people, dead in their own home, crystals protruding from their skin.

Zayne would have been twelve years old. However, the boy was never found at the scene, and it seems that they had given up the search fairly easily, assuming him dead. No other arrest records were found for the boy. He’d grown up outside of a system, turning into a ghost the day his adoptive parents were killed.

It wasn’t difficult for Sylus to put the equation together. If Zayne had spent his life in pursuit of Alterum, taking down as many as he could find, perhaps it was his guilt manifesting into his Grim Reaper persona. He looked at the adoption agency’s photo once more. He felt a tug in his chest, picturing what he’d been through. The same dull headache spread through his head, eclipsing his empathy, buzzing through his ears like a warning.

Sylus grit his teeth. What was with these damned headaches? They’d been somewhat commonplace since he’d lost his right eye, and it seemed as though he couldn’t have a full string of coherent thoughts without one. He hissed as it subsided, going as easily as it came. He blamed the Fleet. Losing his eye or his Aethercore must have had some negative side effects. Their time would come eventually. Sylus had already arranged to get additional information on what exactly what the Farspace Fleet might need with an Aethercore, it was just a matter of waiting for the most opportune moment to have a “polite” conversation with an officer.

He checked on an alert coming through to his cell phone from Mephisto, relaying footage of Zayne leaving that dump of an apartment building to walk briskly down the street. Mephisto flew closer to trail him. Suddenly, the footage shook, glitching and seizing. The angles became chaotic, as if Mephisto was falling. The final image was of a sidewalk from an awkward point of view on the ground, showing a figure in black moving in the distance before it cut out completely. Sylus narrowed his eyes. Was there some kind of signal dampener? Had Mephisto run out of battery and fallen?

Sylus disabled the hologram screen of the computer, and checked his bag for the essentials. He pulled back his hair and slid on a black cap with a visor to shield his eyes from overhead street cameras, swiping his mask from the desk before heading out the door to find out what had happened.

He went to Mephisto’s last reported location, and breathed a sigh of relief when he found the mechanical crow. He was unmoving on the ground with his eyes, normally a harsh red glow, completely inactive in an unseeing black. His metal body was freezing to the touch, and his feathers were damp as if he was thawing out from a deep freeze. Had Zayne done this? Sylus used his Evol to transport himself to the top of the nearest building to assess the situation. Mephisto wasn’t responding and his wings and legs were too stiff to move without damaging them. He tucked Mephisto’s form into his black duffle bag. There was little to be done without a proper light source to see exactly what had happened so he could make repairs. Could Zayne have figured out that he was being followed?

Sylus grit his teeth. Sometimes it’s necessary to know when to quit. he thought, annoyed with himself. He looked out across the city of dying buildings and scurrying rats, and plotted a way back to his warehouse, using his Evol to leap from building to building to avoid being spotted. His preferred method of transportation had always been his motorcycle, and he missed it now. He’d even managed to steal it back from one of those treacherous vultures in Diyu, but since he’d returned missing half of his vision, he’d had to give up on using it until he found his bearings with his new limited depth perception.

He hated it. He hated losing so much power from his Aethercore, something that was innately part of him. The insult to injury was losing half of his vision overnight. It had taken him months to reframe his hearing and cues to make up for lost peripheral vision on his dominate side, and practice tailoring his fighting style to accommodate himself. His shooting skills weren’t nearly as precise, and he’d been electing to use a knife unless he knew he had point blank range on a pistol. The sniper rifle was less of a transition due to the reticle that assisted in targeting, which was a small comfort.

He remembered his teenage years learning to hold his own in fights blindfolded, but this was something entirely different. It made estimating distances a new, unfamiliar experience, and even his basic bread and butter skills as a thief like pickpocketing had taken a hit; he was more inclined to use his dominant right hand, but without the peripheral vision on his side, it wasn’t as smooth, he wasn’t as confident in his abilities. Sylus despised feeling anything less than confident before he took action.

Sylus was pulled out of his thoughts by the sound of a loud roar. Turning his head towards the sound, he used his Evol to transport two buildings to his left, and a wide smile crossed his face as he looked down. Zayne fired a foreceful wave of ice at an Alterum from the sidewalk to bully it into an alley space, away from the sidewalk and spear it to the wall while another one chased him into the small space. Zayne whirled around, a spike of black ice in his hand to savagely pierce their heart.

Sylus quietly drew his rifle from his duffle bag, settling onto his stomach near the edge of the roof to get a better look and watch the fight close up with the recticle. Zayne’s face always seemed to fall into a neutral mask during his fights, and didn’t flinch at all when he was cut or punctured with the claws of his enemies. So stoic, so dutiful.

Zayne struck out at the second Alterum, skewered in place to the back wall with a spike of ice and summoned another to drive through the tough crystals at its chest. To Sylus’ left, behind Zayne’s back, another Alterum stalked towards him, raising it’s hooked appendages to cleave at Zayne’s turned back savagely.

Without thinking, Sylus locked into position, bracing the weapon in his hands and firing a single round into the core of the Alterum, making it stumble back with a shriek. The sound was grating. Less of a shriek by human standards, and more of a grinding whine like two polished pieces of glass rubbing together.

Sylus shot it again, bullet whizzing through a long silencer attachment to reduce the sound of the shot before lodging into the core of the Alterum that reached for Zayne. Zayne stiffened, throwing a look behind him as he finished his current kill only to see the Alterum behind him fading away into metaflux as well.

Sylus grinned, pulling his weapon from its spot on the lip of the ledge and sinking low to the surface of the roof before Zayne could spot him from the ground. Sylus held back a chuckle, reaching for his duffle bag to teleport to the next roof over and escape from Zayne’s startled eyes. Sylus took one last look through the recticle, and saw a break in the mask. Zayne looked bewildered, startled as he looked around wildly, paranoia blooming into his expression.

Oh, that was a new expression. Sylus smirked, packing away his rifle and disappearing to finish his journey home. He quite liked that look of uncertainty and suspicion on his face, and it was a shame he wasn’t able to capture it on film. Now, it had turned into a game. How many of those faces of could he capture by simply hinting at his own presence? Sylus hadn’t originally planned on getting involved directly or interfering in Zayne’s path at all, but what was he supposed to do?

Sylus had always been fond of games.
__

Zayne felt uneasiness put him on high alert. His shoulders tensed, and black frost spotted his hands and crawled up his back with anxiety. What was that? Did someone just shoot one of the Alterum? He felt his breath quicken in his chest, and even pulled out his own pistol to check the magazine, still full of ammo.

He looked to the rooftops and found no one around him. No sounds or signs of life anywhere. He needed to leave, but his feet felt cemented in place with the need to know what had just happened. He shook his head, forcing himself to turn and walk away, nearly running back to the path he’d taken to get here.

Every shadow seemed to watch him, every breeze was an enemy. He tried to piece together what had happened to the Alterum behind him. He’d heard it approach him, and was preparing to sheild himself with a wall of ice, but he’d heard the creature shriek in pain behind him, the crystals in its throat grinding as it tried to scream like a human would. And then it was gone in another blow, fading away before Zayne could raise a hand to it.

Zayne hardly remembered the walk home, dashing into the elevator and feeling his hands clench and unclench with anxiety as the shaft rose to the tenth floor. By the time the elevator doors opened, his breathing was much more calm and steady, but the sick feeling that someone else had been there in the alley clawed at his stomach.

He needed to talk to the Godeater. Zayne had been avoiding him since buying the information on Sylus. The demi-fiend was kind enough to give him space since their last frustrating lesson, but Zayne was past the point of being able to ignore what was happening. He walked past Godeater’s unit, and didn’t see light underneath the door. Zayne knew it was late, he was likely asleep by now. He turned, walking into his own apartment with the resolution of telling him tomorrow.

Zayne removed his coat, changing into something more comfortable but he still felt too on edge to sleep. He went to the window, pulling down the blinds, and moving his Jasmine to the countertop of the kitchen island for more space. His paranoia thrived in his exhaustion, creeping into his mind with an overwhelming feeling of uncertainty. He grabbed the jar he kept of individually wrapped chocolates and settled into his sofa, jamming a finger into the power button on the remote control to bring the television to life, and brought a piece of chocolate to his lips.

The comforting absurdity of the medical drama slowly calmed him down. By the next episode, Zayne found his eyes heavy. He closed them to doze off, resting his head on his open palm with his elbow resting on the arm of the couch.

__

When he opened his eyes again he was in a room he only barely recognized. The Doctor’s room. The one he shared with Sylus. It was too dark for him to take in any of the finer details of objects in the room or pictures on the walls. He was laying in a bed, listening to the soft breathing of someone next to him.

Just another memory. Zayne thought to himself, wondering how this one would play out. He let out a sigh, only to hear it audibly. Zayne sat up in shock. In the darkness he tried to look at his hands, flexing them and shaking out his fingers as if he’d never seen them before. A hand flew to his hair to find it cropped and short at the nape of his neck, and then to his ears to find that his piercings were missing. Horror spread through him like ice, and he felt the blood drain from his face.

He wasn’t just observing a dream, he’d woken up in the body of the Doctor. His breath hitched and his heart rabbited in his chest. He had no idea how to fix this or how it had happened. He was always just a passenger, looking at the Doctor’s memories through his eyes and experiencing them as he would with no deviation. He’d never been able to move his body or change the dream in any way. His lip trembled in fear. This was wrong.

“Zayne? What are you doing?.” a velvet voice thick with sleep called to him. He felt long fingers circle his wrist, trying to pull him back down to the bed. Zayne stiffened, unsure of what to do. Soft lips kissed his knuckles in the dark, and Zayne bit his lip at the feeling of being touched so lovingly.

It felt gentle, safe, comforting…but it was wrong. Sylus thought he was touching his husband, and he wasn’t. Zayne stiffly pulled his hand away from Sylus, mind racing. Should he try to go back to sleep and hope for the best? Should he tell this Sylus what was happening in hopes that he could help?

Sylus made the choice for him, sitting up and turning on one of the bedside lamps to look at him with narrowed eyes.

“Zayne, what is going on?” Sylus demanded, voice slowly coming out of the fog of sleep. His short hair was ruffled and his eyes were bleary, confused. Zayne’s panic built, his breathing picking up rapidly. He felt hands frame his face soothingly. “Something has been going on with you lately. We’re worried about you; please tell me what’s wrong.”

“I’m not him.” Zayne blurted out, stiffening in Sylus’ grasp. It felt too good, too tempting to just give in and let himself be held. But this wasn’t his love to take. Even through the incredible panic he was feeling his heart ached. “I’m not the Doctor.”

He pulled his face from Sylus’ grasp, scrambling to get out of the bed on shaking legs, backing into the wall near his side of the bed next to a window. His vision stuttered, tunneling on Sylus’ confused face, etched with worry.

Sylus got out of bed to follow him, hands up and palms opened as he slowly walked forward. He stepped as if any sudden movement would scare him like a cornered wolf.

“I don’t understand what’s happening.” Sylus said softly. “What are you saying?”

“I’m not your husband, something’s happened and I don’t…I don’t know how to fix it, I’m sorry.” Zayne babbled, struggling to breathe. There was a ringing in his ears, and something that sounded like wailing numbing his senses and driving up his adrenaline. He tried to move, tried to use his legs to walk away, but they quivered underneath him like liquid and he felt himself collapsing.

Sylus caught him before he fell, arms wrapping around him. He cast a conflicted look to the door, but trained his eyes back on Zayne, who was trembling in his grasp.

“Breathe, Zayne. Talk to me, you need to catch your breath.” Sylus was clearly trying to keep his voice steady and calm for Zayne but failing. Zayne shook his head furiously, sweat beading his forehead. He felt as if he’d pass out soon, vision swimming as he struggled in Sylus’ arms.

The ringing noises, the screams, the throbbing of his own heart. None of it stopped. It was too much. Even as his chest heaved, he felt his face go numb and his body fall slack as his vision faded to black again.

__

“Dawnbreaker…” a distant voice called to him. Zayne felt a harsh pain burn across his cheek. ”ZAYNE!”

Zayne’s eyes snapped open again, this time to a fully lit room. He was covered in sweat, tshirt sticking to his skin uncomfortably. He was on the floor, and someone was kneeling over him. Zayne gazed into his own green eyes and shocked expression looking down at him. He narrowed his eyes in confusion until he saw the blue lightning-like marks on his bare chest and his brain caught up to him. He sighed in relief. It was just Godeater.

Zayne groaned as he sat up, anchoring himself with one of his hands. His head pounded, and his mouth was dry again. His cheek stung with what he could only assume was a slap to the face to wake him.

“You were screaming.” Godeater said, giving him room to catch his breath. “I heard it from my room.”

Zayne swallowed, looking around the apartment as if checking to make sure that he was really back in his own home. Papers from the table looked like they’d been shoved off of the surface and littered the area in a chaotic mess. The jar of chocolates had fallen from the couch, its contents spilling onto the floor.

“This one was bad. I think it was real, not just a memory this time.” Zayne said, remembering the deep concern in Sylus’ scarlet eyes.

“I know.” Godeater said solemnly, motioning with his chin for Zayne to look down.

Zayne followed his gaze to a permanent marker on the floor, missing its cap. He reached for it, and black ink on his left forearm, still wet, caught his eye. His skin prickled. With a renewed dread gripping his chest, he read the words written on his skin in thick black letters:

LEAVE ME ALONE

Chapter Text

Zayne’s room was simple. White walls, bed, closet, side table and lamp. All in muted colors of grey and black. The only thing that stood out was the hologram monitor that took up most of the wall opposite the bed, glowing in the darkness. As it happened, that monitor was exactly what Sylus had come for.

Zayne had been increasingly difficult to get to today, retreating into his home with the blinds drawn until he’d left to go over to the neighbor’s unit, which had no good vantage points upon further investigation. It would have been easy if Mephisto was fully repaired, but Sylus still needed to replace a few of his parts entirely after he’d been damaged with Zayne’s ice.

Sylus pulled out a data stick from one of the pockets at his side and felt around the bottom of the monitor for a port to slip the device into. It was a spyware that he’d used before on various jobs in his time with the Collective. Any one of his former family would likely be able to spot it as a personal touch from him, but Zayne likely wouldn’t.

His face fell as he found the port. Family. He had tried not to think about them since his return. People like Johnny who grew up with him, or mentors, teachers, colleagues. Even the leader of the Rogue’s Collective herself who had given him shelter, food, and a direction for his abilities as a child. None of them were trustworthy anymore. It was like they had all died at once. He glowered at the screen, a download bar filling slowly as he recalled the details.

He remembered that night; the last job he’d been conscripted for. Cutlass, the man who reported directly to the leader, had presented him with the papers, detailing various serial numbers and descriptions of equipment that they would be taking. This wasn’t some simple in and out operation, but one that would take time and process to pull off effectively. He’d told Sylus to pick a team.

And Sylus did. He had picked a team of five; people that he trusted with his life. He grit his teeth. It was only after the fact that he realized that he was picking his firing squad. According to the documents, they were infiltrating a facility that was kept under wraps, a ghost organization with its own taskforce within the Farspace Fleet, known as A.S.T.R.A.

It had been a “blind mission,” the type of mission where only transport knew where they were going while all six theives wore hoods and were temporarily sedated in transit before being woken up onsite to complete the job and then transported home in the same way. It was uncommon practice, but something that was occasionally brought out for high-profile marks; if any of them were questioned after the job, it was much harder to pump them for information about the location. A precautionary measure.

When Sylus had been given the inhibitor for his dose of the tranquilizer, he felt that something was wrong immediately. It was taking him longer to wake up. He managed to pull through and muster enough stamina to follow the plan he’d helped create and get into the building. It took every bit of strength to do what needed to be done to package up the equipment specified on their individual lists, and he’d noticed that his sluggishness was only building. Even more unsettling, his group of five were moving at a slow pace, watching him at every step. Waiting for something.

Finally, when the last box was packed, and those designated to move product were out of the building, he was left standing with Johnny.

“We need to get out of here.” he’d said to Johnny. He remembered slurring his words. “Something’s wrong.”

He remembered the guilty look in Johnny’s eyes and the sweat that beaded his brow. Any doubt that he’d been betrayed left his mind. Sylus had tried to run, knowing that he’d need to make an escape on his own when he felt the sharpness of a tactical knife buried into his back.

“They only gave you half a dose of inhibitor. I’m sorry, Sy. They paid top dollar plus whatever we could carry out. Orders straight from the top. Even Phantom signed off on it.” he said with a shaking voice. “I’m supposed to keep you here till they come get you. I’m really sorry…”

Sylus had balked at the name. Phantom? The leader? The sour pain in his heart far outweighed the pain in his back from the knife. He’d struggled, trying to stand, but his muscles were too weak, pushed past the limits already. Johnny crouched down above him.

“When I get out of here, I’m going to kill you, Johnny.” Sylus had said to him, voice low and dark through his mask.

“I don’t think they’re gonna let you go, Sy.” Johnny said, shaking his head. He reached over to the pocket on Sylus’ left side, unbuckling it to pull out an object. Sylus tried to retaliate, throwing his arms out to reach for it. Johnny had held it up to the light, admiring all the facets of a pure red gem in a setting of blackened metal. It was the one thing Sylus valued on every single job he took, more than his mask, more than his knife: his lucky charm.

“I think it’s lost its touch for you.” Johnny had said, turning over the brooch in his fingers. Sylus remembered shouting with weakened lungs, and his own blood pooling around him. He’d been so preoccupied with strangling Johnny that he hadn’t heard the sounds of boots filling the hallways. Johnny had gave Sylus one last look before soldiers filed in, guns trained on him, to haul Sylus away.

“It’s not personal. You’d have made the same deal.”

A low beep on the monitor brought Sylus back to the present. He touched the leather patch sitting over the place that once housed his right eye. It was insult to injury that they'd used him to rob the place instead of just dropping him at the doorstep unconscious. He breathed through his anger. It seemed that every time he thought about it too hard, that buzzing, sharp headache returned and he was forced to calm himself until it went away. The corners of his lips pulled into a deep frown behind his mask. They'd pay for their greed in one way or another.

He’d never been the same after that, even after escaping. At first, he’d needed to lay low, try to face his new reality. Then he’d taken a deep dive into information regarding the Fleet, trying to find any scrap of information he could on A.S.T.R.A. Finding a dead end, he indulged himself with a taste of revenge, starting with Cutlass, then Johnny. And then he’d found Zayne. Now, the deep-seated obsession had curled inside of his mind and made its home there, somehow shifting his priorities. It was sick. He felt as though something was wrong with him, but he couldn’t stop.

He felt like a caterpillar building a cocoon, unaware of why he was doing this, unaware to what the end result would be but following the instinct as if it would lead to something grander. The urge to know, the secret desire to possess him. But he knew that the moment he tried to possess a force as great as Zayne, he’d wilt like his half-dead jasmine in the other room. Even in his sick, seething haze, Sylus knew that Zayne flourished best in independence, nothing could ever truly possess him. But the urge wouldn’t leave. And so the wheel of compulsion turned round and round in Sylus.

It was confounding, confusing, but oh so much fun just watching Zayne from afar.

Sylus slid the data stick from its port, pocketing it to use later. Now he’d be able to get a better idea of where Zayne was heading each night. He drifted to the closet, tossing open the door to look at Zayne’s clothes with a nosy eye, gloved fingers running over the stark black collection and neatly folded piles of worn out clothes he lounged in.

In the back of the closet, Sylus spotted a box, folded closed and marked with someone’s name in dark blocked letters. He recognized it as belonging to the woman whose background he ran, the one from the missing poster. Curiously, he unfolded the top and found it packed with clothes in a much smaller size, as well as personal effects like a toothbrush, books, and makeup.

A lover? he thought curiously. It would make sense, the apartment only had one bedroom and she did seem important to him. Still, Captain Xia had been her first emergency contact, not Zayne. Curious. Sylus had just finished refolding the top of the box when he heard the telltale click of the front door opening in the next room.

He stiffened, stepping out of the closet and bounding across the room, shadowed by the half-open door of the bedroom to conceal him. He pulled out his knife to slide the tip under the lip of the window to give him space to escape. He’d just pried open a small space for himself when he heard the two people begin to speak.

“I’m not making this up.” the first voice growled defensively. Sylus supposed it was Zayne, though he’d only ever heard him speak out loud the one time in his sleep.

“I’m not saying that. I’m only asking if you’re sure a bullet killed the Alterum? Are you sure it wasn’t your ice firing off? We’ve both seen you shoot ice in multiple directions when you’re under the wire, and you’ve been pushing your limits as of late.” said a second voice that made Sylus pause in confusion. They sounded exactly the same.

Sylus moved his body quietly, angling his head to try and see through the crack of the partially opened door. It was no good.

“I don’t know.” the first Zayne sighed in resignation. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

“You haven’t really rested since you found the information on Sylus, have you?” said the second.

Sylus bristled at the sound of his name. He glanced again at the door, estimating if there was enough room to hide behind it. He took a chance, using his Evol to silently teleport behind the partially closed door. Much better. He angled his head into position to peer out of the small crack between the door and the wall held secure between the hinges with his good eye. He could only see a sliver, but he saw Zayne looking away irritably from a man whose back was turned to Sylus.

“No. I haven’t.” Zayne answered him with a shake of his head. “But something doesn’t seem right to me. If I could just get a better grip on the vision…”

“You will. There’s something there that isn’t clear for you yet, you just need to keep trying. What I’m more concerned about is the visit from the Doctor.” said the other man, tone matching up to Zayne’s perfectly.

Sylus could see him fold his arms. He was just as tall as Zayne was, with shorter black hair in the same shade. Zayne shook his head.

“You said one thing at a time.” Zayne argued with him, mimicking the mannerism of folding his arms.

“I know.” said the second man. “But this is escalating. I don’t know if your power is growing or if something else is going on with your dreams, but we need to fix it. This is not how we want the Doctor getting involved. He could hurt you next time, even kill you if he thinks it will stop the dream.”

“I know.” Zayne said with a frustrated groan. He turned his back to move towards the couch and sat down with a heavy sigh, placing his elbows on his knees to raise his hands to his temples.

Sylus was lost. What on earth were they talking about? The second man walked over to the other end of the couch to sit next to him, and Sylus finally got a flash of his face, eye widening when he saw that it was exactly the same as Zayne’s in every way. The differences between them were purely cosmetic. This man had shorter hair, his scars were slightly different, and the tshirt he was wearing revealed a tattoo on his forearm. From height, to build, to eye color, to mannerisms, they were exactly alike. Twins? Sylus questioned silently.

He furrowed his brow. Nothing about Zayne’s adoption records reported him having any biological family, let alone a twin. But the evidence was right there in front of him. What other explanation could there be?

“I have a few things we can try to get this under control for now. I’m due home in a couple of days to check on my Sylus’ progress, but I want to be here in the event that we see the Doctor again.” said the second man. Sylus’ mind raced. This was incredibly bizarre. ‘My Sylus?’

“Fine. That makes sense. I’m sorry to keep you.” Zayne relented, obviously uncomfortable.

Sylus could tell that he valued his own space, but something had him scared. Something even bigger than what Sylus was doing to him, and his intervention had been minimal so far. His curiosity peaked.

“It’s alright.” said Zayne’s twin, shaking his head to wave off the apology. “I knew what I was getting into when I chose to bring the fight to Astra. I only regret that you couldn’t have known.”

Sylus was overwhelmed with their conversation. They’d just mentioned A.S.T.R.A., the ones he planned to hold responsible at the end of a knife. It appeared that the twins also had some kind of animosity towards the organization, and it was taking everything within Sylus not to burst through the door to question them both. He fought the thought. Confronting them like this when he was underprepared might lead to a fight. Zayne was already powerful enough as it was, who knew that his brother was capable of? No. He needed to get Zayne alone for this.

“I need sleep.” Zayne said into the stark pause between them. He rose from the couch and headed towards the bedroom. “I’ll get you a blanket if you’re sleeping here.”

Sylus took it as his sign to leave, body still buzzing with what he’d just heard. He used his Evol, barely making it out through the gap in the window before Zayne pushed the bedroom door wider to cross the threshold.

Confusion coursed through him as he materialized on the roof. Something was going on with Zayne, and it involved him. This far transcended their little game. He needed more information, and then he needed to speak to Zayne.

Chapter Text

“One of the most powerful foundations of any magic is intention.” Godeater explained to Zayne. “Without it, there’s no end goal, and your power is simply free to do what it pleases.”

Godeater drew a seal in the air, glittering silver sparks following every trace of his gloved finger. He put his hand down, not bothering to summon anything from the sigil he’d just made. After a few moments, the silver crackled and vibrated in the air, growing more and more chaotic as it whipped the air around it into a frenzy. The messy kitchen table and the television on the floor in Zayne’s apartment began to rattle with the raw energy being drawn around it. Godeater closed his fist, dissipating the seal.

“Would you really call the dreams magic?” Zayne questioned apprehensively. Godeater gave him a look.

“What would you call it?”

Zayne fell silent, no further arguments came to mind. He nodded for the Godeater to continue.

“You need an intention. If it’s strong enough it might help you through your vision of Sylus, and help you find your friend. In the near future, it might help you control your dreams or contact the Doctor. At this moment, I want you to practice on me.” he said. Zayne chewed at his bottom lip, trying to mask his nervousness.

“You’re not afraid we’ll end up in each other’s bodies?” Zayne said hesitantly.

“Not if that’s not your intention.” Godeater said simply. “In this case, your intent will be to see one of my memories. I don’t much care which one so long as you see something. My intention will be to see one of yours.”

Zayne looked wildly uncomfortable with this arrangement, but he sighed, and gave a tight nod in agreement.

“Meditation is the most straightforward path, train the conscious mind and the subconscious mind will follow.” Godeater said sagely. He adjusted his position on the couch, straightening his back in perfect posture, gesturing to Zayne to do the same. “When you’re ready, relax and reach out to me. Think about our similarities, our differences, and command your power to show you something new.”

Zayne let his eyes flutter closed, lips relaxing and shoulders falling while he used the techniques that they’d practiced for months to fall into a trance. Godeater did the same, focusing on finding a memory that could be the key to understanding the darkness inside of Dawnbreaker.

Godeater felt the familiar flicker of a vision behind his eyes. When he opened them, he saw through Zayne’s eyes, simply a passenger in Dawnbreaker’s memory.

Zayne stood tall, flinging ice at an Alterum that was running at him with enraged claws extended. At his back was a young woman, standing nearly a head shorter than he was and firing two pistols with precision into the cores of several that surrounded them.

Black ice crawled up Dawnbreaker’s limbs, and Godeater could feel the prickle of needling pain as it climbed up his collar. His muscles were burning with strain, his Evol growing more chaotic with every spear of ice. He grunted, grinding his teeth as he flung another into an enemy, destroying it instantly.

“We have to get off the street.” Zayne said to her, taking down another one. Only four more to go, and they’d be finished. She shook her head, looking back at him.

“They’ll box us in. Besides, we can handle this.” she argued, firing off another few rounds. “We finish this wave, and we get out of sight.”

Zayne chuckled. When had she gotten such a knack for this? He winced, ice clawing at his midsection, and fought to keep standing as he defeated the two crowding him closely. One more shot rang out, and the battle was finished. Zayne took a breath of relief and stumbled, his stiff legs carrying him towards a building to rest against. She followed, a hand reaching out to touch his shoulder.

“Your Evol is out of control.” she said, tone worried for him. Zayne shook his head, shuffling away from her.

“Keep your distance.” Zayne warned her, but she continued anyway.

“Let me help, resonating seemed to work last time for the frost.” she argued.

“I’m serious. Please don’t. The last time you tried it, you were in bed for three days– AGH!” his sentence trailed off as he doubled over in pain.

“You can barely stand, Zayne. I can’t take no for an answer.” she said, placing a hand on his shoulder. Before Zayne could find the strength to argue, a golden light flowed from her palm and the black frost on Zayne’s neck and limbs began to dissipate. Zayne sighed in relief, but he felt something building, as if his Evol was fighting back, trying desperately to regrow the black frost where she’d drawn it out of him.

“Stop, I can’t control it, move!” he shouted, but it was too late. Black spikes of ice flew around him, uncontrolled and wild in all directions. He heard her voice catch in her throat, and his face went pale when he looked back at her. Her hands were shaking when she brought them to her side, looking down at a spike that pierced the skin of her hip right through her body.

“Zayne…” she said, voice full of fear as her legs gave out. Zayne caught her, adrenaline kicking into overdrive as the black frost grew over his hands and neck as if taunting him in a sick victory. He examined the wound, clean and deep around the spike of ice that was rapidly melting. Blood gushed between his fingers, and his heart stalled in his chest, stomach turning and tears springing to his eyes.

Zayne shouted for help, screaming at the top of his lungs, but found no one on the quiet streets to come to his aid. He always left his cell phone behind, as the aura of ice that was used to disable cameras and surveillance would ruin it, and now it meant no Ground Patrol, no hope of emergency services.

Zayne scooped her into his arms, lofting her into a vice grip and broke into a run. The spike of ice was melting with her body heat, and then she’d be freely bleeding. He was running out of time. The closest hospital was two miles away, and adrenaline carried him as fast as he could go, heart drumming in his chest like a taunt.

You did this. You’ve placed her in jeopardy. After all those years, she trusted you…

Zayne burst through the doors to the Emergency Room, a ringing in his ears and blood staining his skin. His green eyes were wild and sweat slicked his face as the smell of chemical antiseptic greeted him and made his mouth even drier.

“I NEED HELP!” he shouted to the nurse at the front desk. A stretcher was wheeled in and he was rushed by a team of staff, all asking him questions in quick succession as they looked her over. How had this happened, how old was she, how long ago was the injury made, what is her blood type, any underlying health conditions or allergies…

Zayne answered all of them with a shaking voice, taking care to tell them about a heart condition she was diagnosed with in her teens and her allergy to penicillin. They wheeled her away urgently, leaving him in a waiting room with sticky blood on his hands and a quick “We’ll do everything we can.”

Zayne watched after her, tears pooling in his eyes. The black ice crawled, making the sticky mess on his hands cake faster. For the first hour of waiting, he took up the waiting room bathroom, trying to scrub his hands clean. Even when the blood came off, the ice remained. No matter how raw his hands got under soap and scalding water, it remained.

Then he’d slumped into a chair and began to study the flaking pastel colors on the walls, the outdated magazines, the people who were clearly sick but just waiting for a bed. Could a place like this, allowed to deteriorate, really save her life? He leaned forward, elbows on his knees to cradle his head, half in exhaustion, half in some sort of prayer. Whatever god was out there had never answered his prayers before, but maybe they’d make an exception this time.

After hour number five, the doors opened and a surgeon in blood-spattered scrubs walked out with a clipboard, asking for the emergency contact for her. Zayne was on his feet in a moment, rushing over with hopeful eyes.

“I’m Dr. Tracy. I performed the surgery and she’s going to be just fine. The wound was clean through and through, and no major organs were hit. She needed a unit of blood, but seems to be recovering splendidly. She’ll be sore. She’ll need to take it easy and keep her wounds clean, but you’ll have nothing to worry about.” the surgeon smiled. “We did find signs of something anomalous in her heart however, would you know anything about that?”

Zayne swallowed. He knew that she possessed an Aethercore, and the trio had promised never to talk about it with anyone. All they would tell people was that she had a chronic heart condition that was under supervision by a doctor, which was a lie, but so long as no one looked too closely, it should have been safe. And it was the lie Zayne stuck to now.

“She had a heart condition in her teens. The clinic where she received diagnoses is shut down now, but we were assured that her condition was stable and managed. Is there something you know that I don’t?” Zayne said, raising a brow at the doctor. The surgeon searched his face for a brief moment and returned to an easy smile.

“That explains it, then.” he said pleasantly. “Thank you Mr. Li. We’ll let you know when she’s able to receive visitors. You can head home and leave your phone number with the nurse. We’ll call you when she’s awake.”

“No. I would rather be notified here. I’m not leaving her alone. Just tell me when I can see her please.” Zayne insisted firmly. The doctor’s face faltered for a fraction of a second, and then that toothy smile was back.

“Of course. Please let us know if we can do anything to make you feel more comfortable in the meantime, it might be a while.” he said. Zayne nodded tersely, too exhausted to question him.

“Thank you.”

Zayne waited in the uncomfortable chairs in the waiting room that felt like it was decaying by the second. The chairs were faded and disintegrating at the stitches, and the glass divider at the front desk was yellowed with age. Nothing seemed to have been replaced or kept up with since the Fleet arrived. Zayne tried to stay grateful that there had been someone to operate on her at all, but the waiting was driving him mad.

It had been twelve hours total. The nurse shift had changed. Others had been called back to be seen, and Zayne was there alone with the morning sun filtered through the brittle glass of the clinic windows.

He had trusted the doctor, and so he’d waited. Still, he was on edge. He needed to call Caleb. He should have done so hours ago but without his cell phone, he was flying dark and he didn’t want to leave her in an unfamiliar place without someone to speak up for her while she was unconscious.

Zayne rose tiredly from his chair and approached the nurse at the intake desk, speaking to her through yellowed glass.

“Hello, I’d like an update on my friend who was out of surgery for an abdominal puncture wound about seven hours ago. I need to update the family.” Zayne said politely to the nurse, giving her name. The nurse nodded, and Zayne heard the clacking of her fingers on the keyboard a little too loudly.

“There’s no patient by that name here, sir.” said the nurse with a professional smile. Zayne quirked an eyebrow.

“Apologies, allow me to spell it for you, there’s a common misspelling.” Zayne said, reciting the letters of her first and last name off patiently. The nurse shook her head.

“No, sorry. Are you sure this is the hospital she was brought to?”

“Yes, I brought her here myself. I can recite her stats on intake if you like, but she was here and operated on by Dr. Tracy.” Zayne said, his alarm growing by the second.

“Dr. Tracy is unavailable at the moment.” the nurse said with a smile. “Is there anything else I can do for you?”

“Yes, page him. Or find me the nurse overseeing her care. I was told that I’d be notified when she woke up. I’m her emergency contact and you’re telling me she isn’t here?” Zayne said, voice rising involuntarily.

“Dr. Tracy is unavailable. Would you like to make an appointment?” The nurse said innocently. Zayne felt a tingle prickle across his neck. He blinked, astounded.

“No, I need to know where my friend is. Speak: Where. Is. She?” Zayne’s punctuated sentence served as a final warning. The nurse began to replay her line, ‘Dr. Tracy is unavailable…’ and Zayne shut down. He wasn’t asking for much, and this was beginning to rile a sense of panic in his chest. He’d been there since they were both children, watched her grow up, promised that he’d always watch out for her. This didn’t make sense, and he wasn’t planning to walk away without her.

He turned away from the front desk and walked calmly past the doors that led to the back of the hospital with the full intention of checking every single room in this building until he laid eyes on her. Zayne barely heard a voice over the intercom warning of a civilian breech as he walked past, taking note of every face he saw. Anger rising, he headed towards a staff elevator to catch another doctor about to enter to ask for help. Any kind of reassurance or status update might have placated him before, but now he was nearing a state of crisis and exhaustion was only making him feel even more out of his mind.

He felt arms loop around his shoulders, hauling him back, jarring him out of his single-track mind.

“Disorderly conduct is not tolerated here.” said one of the stoic Fleet officers as they dragged Zayne back. Zayne fought them, surging forward and frantically and jerking violently to try to be free of the hold on his arms and shoulders.

“Please, I brought my friend here yesterday and they’re telling me she isn’t here, you have to help me…” he babbled, eyes wide and pleading.

“We were called here for disorderly conduct, not a missing patient.” said the other officer simply. Zayne felt as though he was in a dream. How was nobody on alert? Why was no one worried?

“Check the camera footage, she came in with a puncture wound and needed surgery!” Zayne shouted. “Don’t you care? She’s missing!”

“The cameras out front aren’t working right now.” the first officer told him calmly as if that explained everything.

Zayne lost it. Twisting his arms, he shoved a blast of cold air from both of his hands, catching both officers off guard enough to break out of their hold and continue his stride to the elevator that would bring him to the recovery ward of the hospital. He was almost to the threshold of the open elevator shaft when he felt the puncture wounds in the middle of his back.

A current of electricity ripped through him, seizing his muscles and pulsing painfully through his limbs and face. Zayne dropped to the ground, teeth biting through the skin on his lip as he convulsed under the strong current of the taser. His muscles twitched and locked up and he fell in the same position he’d been tased in, legs and arms splayed out, hands balled and nails tearing at his palms. The waves of electricity seemed to have sound, a low hum that vibrated in his eardrums. His eyes rolled back into his head and he was completely unable to move through the waves and waves of electricity that hobbled him.

The officer approached him, jerking the barbs from his skin and hauling his sore, twitching body out of the hallway and back through the doors to the lobby to exit the building.

Zayne was transported to a holding cell at the Ground Patrol station, tossed to the ground in a rank-smelling cell unceremoniously. He felt sore and sluggish, his lips were swollen from forcibly biting into them, and his entire body was fatigued. He clawed himself to his feet through the bruising pain lingering in his muscles and dragged himself to one of the dirty benches built into the wall. He leaned back against the cell wall, too tired to try to think his way out of this position. The lingering reminder pulsed through his brain, reminding him that she was missing, and he had lost her.

Zayne leaned his head back against the dingy stone wall, unable to do anything but try to sleep. The only thing he could think about was her. What had happened? Was she safe? Who had stolen her? His eyes were closed but his heart was aching and his mind was racing.

It had been hours. More damned hours of quietly twisting on what had happened when the barred door to the cell swung open. Zayne stirred to heavy footsteps entering the cell and he looked up. He sighed in relief. Finally, someone who would help him. His heavy feeling began to lighten, until he felt a grip around his throat, shaking his body into a frenzied, shell-shocked state of alert. Zayne followed the gloved hand that gripped his neck all the way to the stony gaze of the new Captain of Sector Enforcement.

Caleb tossed Zayne from the bench onto the floor roughly. Zayne cried out at the pain, more from surprise than actual damage to his body, and he looked up at Caleb with wildly confused eyes.

“What are you doing?” he sputtered, gaze clinging to Caleb’s face for some explanation. Caleb’s face was pulled into a forced frown, but his eyes were sad, mournful, and tears beaded at the waterlines of his sunset eyes. Zayne scrambled to his feet, facing Caleb who was fighting every bit of himself that wanted to turn back into that scared little boy that Zayne once knew when she was in danger.

“You lost her?” he whispered as if he’d been betrayed. Zayne’s heart ached. Caleb must have just come in from Skyhaven, a new promotion on his wings only to find her missing, disappearing out of thin air.

“I brought her to the hospital, they keep telling me they never did her intake, but I was there. She went through surgery, they said she’d be alright. I–” Zayne was cut off by Caleb shoving him into a wall and bracing his throat with his forearm savagely. His teeth were bared into a snarl.

“And who put her in that hospital to begin with, Zayne?” Caleb hissed through his teeth. “You knew that bringing her in would expose her Aethercore.”

“I was trying to save her life!” Zayne growled, arms thrusted out to push Caleb away from him. Caleb scoffed, shaking his head.

“And you wouldn’t have needed to if you hadn’t taken her out on that hunt.” he said angrily. “Tell me, was it an Alterum that got to her or was it you?”

Zayne froze, the blood draining from his face. That was all the provocation that Caleb needed to reel back and pummel his fist into Zayne’s face, sending him stumbling back into the wall, the fixed metal bench cropping him from the back of his knees. Zayne brought a hand to his cheek, feeling a welt already kindling and red. He stood again to speak to Caleb, only to feel another punch to his eye, throwing him back so hard that the back of his head smacked against the stone wall.

“You were supposed to protect her while I was gone.” Caleb seethed, an edge of despair to his voice as he laid punch after punch into Zayne’s face. “I trusted you!”

Zayne coughed, blood spraying from his lips to clear his airway. He wanted to argue with Caleb, deny responsibility. But he couldn’t. Caleb was right. He had put her in danger. He had been the one to injure her. This was all his fault. He closed his eyes as another punch to his jaw rattled his teeth. He collapsed, pain in his face radiating every time he blinked. His head rang, his teeth were sore.

“We’ll find her.” Zayne rasped, sputtering another spray of blood and spit as his stomach flipped. Caleb sneered at him, fists balling in his fancy Fleet-issued gloves.

“There is no ‘we.’” he said with a low growl. “Go home, Zayne. Don’t let me catch you in this cell again. There are plenty of people here who would look the other way if you went missing.”

__

Godeater woke from the vision, mouth dry and chest heaving at the memory. He looked to the left, seeing Zayne with a hand clamped over his mouth. His cheeks were red, the blush stretching into scarlet over his ears and his eyes were wide. The sunlight of morning poured through his window, enveloping them both in a pale natural light.

“Did you see something?” Godeater asked him, swallowing the memory he’d just witnessed of Zayne’s broken and bloody face.

“Two…he has two?” Zayne murmured, trying desperately not to make eye contact with his other self. The Godeater smirked, the corners of his mouth upturning.

“Not what I’d have chosen for you to see, but this tells me that you succeeded.” Godeater told him with a nod.

Zayne was still shellshocked from his vision, but he couldn’t help but notice the tense set of Godeater’s jaw.

“What did you see?” Zayne asked him directly. Now it was Godeater who couldn’t hold his gaze.

“You were fighting Alterum.” he said, a lie by omission. Zayne’s face pressed into a frown.

“Don’t lie to me. Our throat tenses like that when we’re swallowing a lie.” he said, narrowed eyes bearing down on him. He already knew the truth of what his counterpart had seen, but part of him was desperately hoping that he was wrong.

Godeater opened his mouth to speak when a static erupted over the comms scanner.

”They’re crowding us! A group of them, requesting backup!”

”Acknowledged, Ground Patrol.” Caleb’s voice crackled in the tin-film tone of the radio. "Sit tight, support’s comin’ your way."

Zayne rose from his place on the couch to enter his bedroom. He hissed at the sight of multiple Alterum pouring into view in red dots on his screen. There was no time to waste on clothes, and he pulled a pair of sneakers on his feet, darting towards the front door.

“I need to take care of this.” Zayne said. His cold neutral mask was back in place. “I’ll be back.”

“It’s broad daylight, are you sure?” Godeater questioned him with surprise. Zayne gave him a quick nod.

“Ground patrol is overwhelmed with a cluster and a few more are currently transforming a block away, they’ll be overwhelmed.” Zayne said tersely, leaving it at that as he walked out of the door, mind on his mission.

He took the elevator down and ran through the debris in the lobby to sprint down the street in his black tshirt and sweatpants as if he was simply on a morning jog. The threat wasn’t too far away from him, and he was able to take a detour to avoid the gunfire he heard from Ground Patrol struggling with a hoard of Alterum to find the cluster of people transforming.

A pike of ice in hand, Zayne leapt behind a man whose face was completely obliterated in his transformation, staking him through his back and piercing his heart, moving on to catch another by surprise. With a cold blast of jagged ice, he shoved the remaining two that turned to hiss at him into a space between buildings to finish them off with precise blows. He pressed his back against the wall, sweat slicking his chest as he caught his breath.

When he turned back to the opening he’d come from to leave, a figure in a Fleet uniform stood in his way, eyeing him with sunset eyes and crossing his arms in anger. Zayne let out a huff. Great.

“The arrangement was that you work at night. Out of sight.” Caleb said tersely, walking up to Zayne with a cold swagger. Zayne didn’t move, staring defiantly back at the Captain. “Did you think no one would notice the frozen surveillance cameras?”

Well, yes, he had. Zayne scoffed.
“Your men are already struggling with a surge of them. These four would have taken them by surprise, and I would have been gone already if we weren’t having this conversation.” Zayne said, tension beginning to leak into his voice. “Move. I’m not in the mood for this.”

“Watch your tone.” Caleb warned him, blocking his path again. “If you pull something like this again, I’m not sticking my neck out for you.”

“I’d expect nothing less from a Fleet Captain.” Zayne sneered, emphasizing the title like a dirty word. “The uniform wears you well, Caleb.”

Zayne saw the dam on Caleb’s anger break before he had a chance to finish raising his fist. Zayne engaged his Evol, freezing Caleb’s fist to the wall in black ice with a deep frown.

“I miss her too. If you could see past your own rage, you could stop blaming me and help me.” Zayne said, voice softening to a plea. Caleb let out a strangled yell from deep in his chest, extending the hand that wasn’t frozen to bear down on Zayne with his Evol.

Zayne choked, feeling an incredible weight pressing down on his shoulder and arms, forcing him to his knees. The area encircling him was warped and fluid through a blue-red aura and Zayne struggled with a pained grunt in his chest, the strain asserting a bruising amount of force on his back.

After a moment, Caleb wrenched his hand off of the wall, ice shattering to the ground, and let his Evol go. Zayne heaved, finally able to breathe properly. He stared up at Caleb with resigned, hurt eyes. Caleb looked like he didn’t know what to say. His expression softened, recognizing that he’d gone too far. He almost looked sorry, mouth parting as if there were words he was struggling to piece together.

Zayne didn’t give him a chance. He climbed to his feet and brushed past Caleb to head back to his apartment, raising a hand to rub out the cap of his aching shoulder.

Caleb shook out his fist, flexing his fingers to rid himself of the cold that made his fingers feel stiff even through his leather gloves. He was lost in thought, too much so to notice the red-black mist that erupted behind him.

“You should be nicer to the Reaper, Captain.” Sylus said, voice thick through his mask.

Caleb whirled around just in time to see a gloved fist sailing towards him before a brutal blow landed to his jaw. Between the force of the blow and the element of surprise, Caleb went down, tipping back and losing his balance. He raised a hand to use his Evol, but Sylus disappeared, reappearing behind him in an instant. Sylus batted Caleb’s service cap off of his head to grab a fistful of his hair and force his head back to bare his throat. Caleb felt a blade at his neck, cold and sharp. He held his breath, nervous to move his throat in any way against the angled edge.

“Harm one hair on his head, and I won’t be nearly as polite.” Sylus growled in his ear.

Red-black mist swirled again, and Caleb was left bewildered on the ground, pressing a hand to his swelling jaw.

Chapter Text

The next night came, and a sound from Zayne’s room made Godeater stir from Zayne’s couch. He sat up, hearing the flip of a light switch followed by a chain of expletives before the door to the bedroom flung open and Zayne walked out. His expression was a mix of mania and anger as his eyes darted around the room. He froze when his eyes landed on the Godeater, mouth falling open in surprise.

“The Doctor, I presume.” the Godeater said matter of factly, sitting up on the couch. Zayne’s face was distrustful, anger only there to conceal his fear. He was on edge, thoroughly disturbed with the sight of another version of him sitting calmly on the couch. His hands balled into fists as he tried to find something to say.

Even in this state of frenzied stress, Godeater could tell that his mannerisms were similar, but different from Dawnbreaker’s. He was more expressive with his face, and his strides were wider when he walked. Where Dawnbreaker might have leaned against a surface like a wall or countertop, the Doctor stood rigid and tall. His body language was more elegant and buttoned up, where Dawnbreaker’s body language tended to be more open and loose as if he was constantly prepared to move or fight if needed.

“What the hell is going on?” the Doctor in Dawnbreaker’s skin seethed. “I think I made it quite clear that I will not be a part of whatever game you’re playing.”

“He doesn’t do it intentionally. It isn’t his fault.” Godeater said calmly. The reference to the first time their consciousnesses switched realities confirmed his first theory. When they directly interacted, it was a sign that their timelines were running concurrent, rather than jumping through the past in dreams.

“I don’t care who’s fault it is, it needs to stop.” he said venomously. “And who are you? You can’t be him; I’m sure he’s off in my body terrifying my husband.”

“I’m from a reality that’s vastly different from both of yours. I believe our beloveds have met before.” Godeater drew a sigil in the air, fanning out his fingers to will open a portal to his memory, one of his Sylus. It showed the dragon standing tall in front of their den, features graced by the sunset.

“That was a dream.” the Doctor argued, shaking his head. His eyes betrayed him. He believed what he was seeing, but was trying desperately not to. “He said it was a dream.”

“Do you believe that this is a dream?”

The Doctor paused, face relaxing as he thought it over.

“I don’t know.” he said honestly. “There’s evidence to suggest that it isn’t. But the thought alone is unbelievable.”

“Unfortunately, we’re far past the point of ‘unbelievable,’ and I think you know that.” Godeater said evenly.

“What do you want?” said the Doctor, eyes narrowed in suspicion. He folded his arms, shoulders hunched as if to protect himself. Godeater watched him, the way his eyes would dart around the room as if trying to cling to something familiar to anchor himself. He twisted at the ring finger of his left hand, as if he kept expecting to find a ring there.

“I need to know what you know. Have you been dreaming of Dawnbreaker as well? Perhaps for the last six months?” Godeater asked directly. There was no way to tell how much time they had to talk. The dream ended for both of them very quickly last time, so there was no time to waste. The Doctor looked stunned at his question.

“How did you know?” he breathed. Godeater kept his gaze steady. The dreams had started for both Dawnbreaker and the Doctor when Dawnbreaker had found Sylus’ soul gem, mounted in a brooch at the time. A theory was beginning to materialize.

“Would you say that your connection to Sylus transcends the mind and body? Would you go as far as saying that you’re tethered by soul?”

The Doctor was hesitant to answer such a personal question, even if someone who appeared to be the very essence of himself was asking. He pursed his lips. Godeater already knew the answer from the look on his face. Even if his human iterations only clung to the notion symbolically, it was enough to substantiate his hunch.

“Dawnbreaker hasn’t found his Sylus.” Godeater explained. “His soul is searching, but something is disrupting his call. So it continues its search, and it has found you and your husband. The force that’s interrupting him is what we’re trying to stop. I need to better understand your similarities, and you have a better grasp of this world than I. We need your help to fill in the gaps.”

“No.” The Doctor snapped without hesitation. “This doesn’t concern us. I’m truly sorry for him, but I can’t help you.”

“Fixing the disruptions in this reality will stop the dreams.” the Godeater asked, brushing off his refusal. “I’m sure of it.”

The Doctor chewed his lip thoughtfully, a true fear etched onto his face. He couldn’t look at his counterpart, and Godeater could tell that there was something much deeper under the surface.

“I said no.” The Doctor said after a long silence between them. “We’ve come too far to risk everything again. There’s too much to lose.”

“If this crisis isn’t handled, your reality could very well be next. You have seen enough through his dreams to know what that could mean.” Godeater pleaded with him, the calm face he’d been clinging to crumbling little by little. “This is protecting the peace you’ve achieved.”

“I won’t say it again.” The Doctor insisted with an edge of warning in his voice. “Whatever you need to do, leave me out of it.”

Godeater sighed. This was going nowhere.

“I don’t know that we can.” he admitted. The Doctor scoffed, shaking his head in frustration. Then his features tensed as if remembering something.

“There’s something you should know; this isn’t the first time I’ve dreamed of Dawnbreaker. The first time was years ago, directly after an incident on Mt. Eternal in the arctic.” he said. “I had nightmares about it for years, and I always saw him standing there, staring straight ahead.”

“You saw each other in this dream. You weren’t observing, but actually looking at each other?” Godeater clarified, arching an eyebrow. He remembered Dawnbreaker describing the same dream only days ago. “The massacre.”

“The mission.” The Doctor corrected. He looked like he wanted to say more, but he suddenly went very pale in the face. He wobbled, balance faltering, and braced his hand on the wall. “Please…find another way to make it stop.”

Godeater watched as he sank to the floor, dizzy and unsteady before his eyes fluttered closed. Dawnbreaker would be back soon, and they’d have much to discuss. Despite the Doctor’s protests and refusals, Godeater was certain they’d be seeing each other again.

___

“I don’t know what prompted me to do it.” Sylus said out loud, velvet tone loud and intentional as he spoke and echoing through the open space of the warehouse. He played with the long tactical knife, passing it between his hands easily. “It felt like an instinct. Something I needed to do. And the feeling? That need to protect him even though he doesn’t need protection? Intoxicating. Not to mention that the satisfaction of cracking the jaw of a Fleet Captain was truly worth it.”

A choked moan of pain was the only response to Sylus’ chatter. Sylus narrowed his eyes at the man tied to the chair in the warehouse, sitting over a plastic tarp. He was stripped down to his undershirt and boxers, and his Farspace Fleet-issued uniform was folded neatly on a table nearby, next to the desk.

He didn’t have any concrete plans of sneaking around the Fleet just yet, but he liked to be prepared. Who knew when he’d need a perfect disguise? It was why he’d chosen this particular officer after all; he was the perfect height for his uniform to fit Sylus, and a perfect rank to go unnoticed. Most importantly, he was the perfect amount of stupid to go wandering off by himself. It was like a spider catching a fly. Easy, almost boring.

Cuts, burns and heavy bruising littered the officer’s body. The man’s face was nearly unrecognizable with the severe beating he’d received, and Sylus found it hard to tell what feeling his expression was conveying. At another half-conscious moan, Sylus scoffed.

“You’re a terrible listener. But I suppose you’re right; let’s stay on task, shall we?” Sylus said as if resigned, despite the wicked smirk across his mouth. He reached to the desk to retrieve the notepad he’d scrawled a few notes on and examined where they’d gotten so far.

The officer had told him that the A.S.T.R.A. taskforce was somewhat of a mystery even to other Fleet officers, but the rumor was that they seemed to be interested in experimentation. Cybernetic enhancements, protocore technology, anything to see just how far the human body could go. Sylus was unimpressed so far, he was walking proof that they were interested in Aethecore and protocore harvesting but he was missing the ‘why?’ of the situation.

What were their motives for all of this? Defense? Creating better soldiers? Unlocking some new use for protocores and Aethercores? Sylus held his knife to the officer’s neck.

“Where does A.S.T.R.A. get their test subjects?” Sylus asked in a clear voice. The officer flinched at the feeling of sharp metal on his skin. He coughed, and answered in a slurred voice.

“Sometimes people go in, but they don’t come back out. People off the street…other officers. I saw one guy come back out, but he was different. I dunno what they’re doing to them.” the officer said, shaking with fear and cold.

“Different how?” Sylus said, arching an eyebrow. The shivering officer whimpered. Sylus moved the sharp knife to one of his hands, pressing the blade into the knuckle joint of his pinky. The officer protested, sputtering and begging pathetically. “Different how?”

“He was just weird…He didn’t laugh or smile anymore, and he kept talking about how they put a mission in his head. How he’d always know what to do next because they could tell him without talking! Psycho shit like that!” the officer babbled desperately. Sylus pursed his lips in thought, and moved the knife away. Now they were getting somewhere.

“And where is that officer?” Sylus asked him. His tone was even, calm. The officer shook his head.

“Dunno. Didn’t see him around after that…could be dead for all I know.” the officer was breathing heavily, trying not to panic. “Please, I don’t know anything else…”

Sylus sighed, shaking his head as if disappointed.

“Don’t tell me you’ve outlived your usefulness already, Officer.” Sylus chuckled. “How does one join the taskforce?”

“You don’t…they find you.”

Sylus supposed that made sense given the secretive nature of the division. What exactly they did behind closed doors was still a mystery that Sylus was quite sure this pathetic hostage couldn’t help him solve. He was growing bored of their conversation anyway.

“Your time is appreciated, Officer.” Sylus said with flourish, setting his knife down on the desk. The man looked at him with hopeful eyes.

“You’re gonna let me go now, right?” he said, mouth trembling. Sylus chuckled, placing his gloved hands on either side of his head.

“I never said that.” Sylus said, forcefully snapping his neck before he could respond. The man slumped over, the weight of him nearly tipping over the chair he sat in over the tarp Sylus had laid on the floor.

Sylus cleaned his knife, frowning as he thought. The officer who had “come back different” with a “mission in his head.” He thought of his own experience. How different he was before he’d broken out of the facility. How he’d seen Zayne’s face for the first time and his first thought was to kill him. Had he walked a way with a mission in his head too? And if that was the case, how did he manage to get rid of it without following through and killing his target?

He pulled out another small notebook from a buckled pocket on his pants, flipping through the pages listing dates and times. He’d begun tracking the headaches he was getting, the strange buzzing sensation that disrupted whatever thought was in his head when it started. There was a pattern, of that he was sure, but what was it?

The more he thought about it, the more certain he was that something more had happened to him in the A.S.T.R.A. facility. Why couldn’t he remember? Zayne had mentioned the organization as well. How was he involved in all of this? He glanced at the growing collage of photos and notes about Zayne, and felt a hollow feeling in his chest. He was acting like a monster, and he knew it, but something about Zayne was driving him to keep going. Every photo, every glimpse of him, every private moment he witnessed felt like it was part of something greater.

Zayne had his share of secrets, and Sylus had a feeling that bringing them all to light would lead to answers they both required. Zayne’s twin had mentioned leaving for ‘home.’ When he was gone, Sylus would have Zayne all to himself.

As if on cue, Sylus’ phone vibrated on the desk with a new alert.

[SEARCH TERM: “CARRION” TRIGGERED]

A small smile found its way back to Sylus’ face in spite of himself.

“Now you’re getting it, Reaper.” he chuckled. The time for them to have a little chat was fast approaching.

Chapter Text

Zayne stared at the image in front of him with a sinking feeling in his stomach. His jaw was set and he felt a numbness spread over his face. His fingers trembled as they left the keyboard of his laptop. His bottom lip knit between his teeth as the complicated feeling of loss and hope spiraled inside of him.

The words of the report were completely redacted in thick, black blocks. All except for one phrase. SUBJECT: CARRION What Zayne couldn’t look away from was the image attached to it.

The photo featured Sylus, photographed from the middle of his chest to his head. He was laying on a metal table, a white sheet pulled up to his bare collarbones. His left eye was closed and his curved lips were slightly parted as if he was simply asleep. Peaceful and calm.

His right eye was where his peaceful visage ended. The socket was held open with a speculum, hooked into his upper and lower eyelid to expose a gory mess of blood and tissue, and the absence of the scarlet eye that Zayne had seen in his dreams. A river of blood was running out of the corner of the empty socket to run down the side of his head, and there were traces of blood around the undereye and inner corner. The harsh lighting of the photo made his skin look washed out and pale, making it impossible to tell if there was actual color to his cheeks and lips.

From this photo alone, Zayne couldn’t tell if Sylus was still alive. He kept watching the image, searching over every pixel for evidence that he still had a pulse. That he’d somehow survived the horror that he’d been through. Zayne pulled the report he’d gotten on Sylus from the broker in Diyu, his eyes scanning through until he landed on a specific paragraph.

”Aside from Carrion’s unprecedented abilities, he was known to have the ability to see a person’s most ardent desire. Some report accounts of his right eye glowing as if seeing into their minds…”

What was special about his right eye? Was it merely a rumor that the Fleet was trying to substantiate, or a potential Evol ability? Zayne rubbed at his tired eyes. It seemed like the closer he got, the more questions he had.

Exhaustion chased the spaces behind his eyes yet again. After he’d woken up, thankfully as himself, the night before he’d been too on edge to try to sleep again. The day had nearly passed him by, and an orange light of a sunset poured through his window now.

His waking nightmare had been chaotic to say the least. He’d woken again in the Doctor’s body to find himself in a kitchen, holding a knife over a cutting board full of vegetables. His fingers were bleeding, he must have cut himself. He’d tried not to panic, but the look of fear on his Sylus’ face as Zayne had slowly stepped away with a knife and a bloody hand had been surreal.

The Doctor’s Sylus had managed to take the knife from him and restrain him before he could walk to another room of the house. He cringed inwardly. He couldn’t imagine how the Doctor was feeling about this, or how disturbing it must be for Sylus to see his husband but be unsure if it was really him.

Zayne looked again at the gory picture in front of him, and paused. The light that made his skin look so translucent and eerie…it must have been quite bright. Something clicked into place.

There was a knock at the door, and Zayne rose to get it eagerly to share the revelation with the Godeater.

“I think I’ve figured it out.” he said, words rushed and urgent as he opened the door. Godeater took a step back, eyes wide at the sudden outburst. “The white light. I think it’s the light in an operating room.”

Godeater stepped inside the apartment, taking in the theory. His eyes landed on the picture of Sylus on his open laptop and he shuddered.

“And you believe that the vision will tell you if he survived.” Godeater said, following his logic. Zayne nodded intently.

“I do. I’m going to try it with the same technique you showed me a few days ago. I’m close now, I can feel it.” Zayne trailed off, deep in thought. He glanced back towards Godeater in question. “Are you preparing to leave?”

“Yes. I might be gone longer this time, unless you need me to stay for a few more days.” he replied. Zayne shook his head.

“I should be fine. From what you told me about the Doctor, it seems as though he knows that hurting me won’t get him anywhere if it happens again. Are you planning to find him?” Zayne asked.

“Yes. I want to know more about the dream he had on the mountain. You said you don’t recognize it, correct?” Godeater folded his arms.

“Right. It’s unfamiliar to me. When I had that vision, it felt like I was being pulled in somehow. It was different from my other dreams of his, and his dreams of me from the sound of it. What do you think it means?” Zayne affirmed. The realization that the Doctor was dreaming of his life was offputting. He felt like every step he took could be viewed by someone else. The thought made him feel exposed, paranoid. And how do you suppose the Doctor feels when you invade his memories? Zayne chided himself.

“I think that the Doctor has more power than he thinks. If you’re sensitive to tears in the veil, he might be also. He just doesn’t realize it.” Godeater said thoughtfully.

“And without intention, that power will just do what it pleases.” Zayne said, recalling Godeater’s lesson to him. Godeater nodded, an impressed look of approval crossing his features.

“Precicely.” he said. “Please be careful. I’ll be back soon, and if I can convince the Doctor to help, I’ll return with him.”

“Take care, don’t push yourself.” Zayne said, offering him a handshake. Godeater took his hand with a firm nod.

“Likewise. Try to get some rest.”

Zayne watched Godeater disappear through the door and back to his apartment to finish his preparations. Zayne finally had a direction, and he intended to use it. He took one last glance at Sylus’ gory face on his computer and shut the laptop. He walked to the couch, making himself comfortable and took a few slow breaths to lull himself into the meditative state needed to access the vision that had been eluding him for so long.

“Show me what happened to you.” Zayne murmured, his voice soft but his intention strong. He let his eyes fall closed and with practiced ease, he pulled out the vision of a bright, white light.

The white light hummed, and the longer Zayne listened, the more obvious it became. He thought of the humming lights in the hallway, how could he have missed this before? He focused, trying to pull the focus back to see more.

A room came into view. Cold, metal tools and stark white walls came into focus. Several people bustled around the room, all wearing white lab coats and masks on their faces with gauzy white nets for their hair. The room smelled sterile, chemical. Clean to an uncanny degree. As Zayne’s eyes focused, the heaving panicked breathing he’d heard before came back into the room. He looked around, realizing that he was strapped to a metal table. He was seeing through Sylus now, simply a passenger in a memory.

Zayne felt the straps digging into Sylus’ wrists, ankles, chest and legs. Sylus was struggling sluggishly, desperately trying to get away. His vision was strange, he couldn’t see anything in the periphery on his right side, and a warm, wet sensation trickled down the right side of his face. Something was forcing his right eye to stay open, but there was no sight on that side. The open air kissed over the open wound in a bizarre, horrifying feeling.

“No…” Sylus murmured, trying to fight the slowed sluggishness that threatened to pull him into sleep. His voice was low, trying to be angry and threatening, but it gave way to horror, fear. “What have you done!?”

He jerked his head to the right to try to see what was going on around him, and found two people in lab coats speaking to each other.

“Why can’t you sedate him? The removal was too messy because he kept fighting us. His Evol isn’t all there but he still threw Clint across the damn room!”

“He’s half sedated already, we need to wait a little longer before we give him more. No telling how much those heathens gave him on the way here. Once he comes out of it we can keep him on a schedule.”

“He’s metabolizing it so quickly, why the wait?”

“Look, we’re under orders from the higher ups to keep him alive. Do you want to explain to them why his heart stopped because we administered too much anesthesia?”

“No…but we’re gonna have to wait till he’s out before we can start the procedure. No telling if he’ll stay still.”

Sylus clenched his fists, jerking his wrists to try and test his bindings. He was terrified, but adamant about getting up. He looked to the trays nearby and saw a shallow specimen tray containing a single red eye that almost seemed to be staring at him. His stomach heaved as nausea washed over him. His throat spasmed and he thought he’d be sick. He turned away, looking towards his left to see someone else preparing a syringe while another person stood by, holding a pair of forceps up, but they were too far away for Sylus to see what was in between the prongs of the tweezers.

He thrashed, a cry ripping from his lungs from the adrenaline and terror that preyed on his mind. He tried to engage his Evol, succeeding in shoving over a tray filled with scalpels and other surgical tools to his left. The metal table he was on shook violently underneath him.

“You’ve waited long enough, sedate him, NOW!”

Sylus felt a hand clad in a rubber glove grip his face to hold his head steady as someone else lowered a plush mask to cover his nose and mouth. He fought as hard as he could, but felt his muscles relax and his hands drop as he was forced to breathe the chemical vapor. His left eye drooped as the person gassing him left him with one final statement.

“A.S.T.R.A. thanks you for your present and future service.”

___

Zayne came out of the vision with sweat beading his forehead. He sat up with a start and tried to catch his breath. He stared forward with a shellshocked expression as he went over the details. He couldn’t even take pride in his success in grasping the vision, not when he’d felt the terror that Sylus was feeling.

There was that name again, Astra. The god who’d kept the Godeater locked away for centuries, the one who was responsible for this broken world, and was now the taunting name of the organization that had taken everything from Sylus. The Godeater had been right; Astra was in this world, and he had done something to Sylus. His Sylus. He had stopped them from finding each other. He had completely diverted their paths.

Zayne stood, reaching for his jar of chocolates only to find that there were only two wrapped truffles left. He sighed, he could use some air anyway. He went to the bedroom to pull on a pair of worn sneakers he’d tossed next to the bed to go with his sweatpants and faded tshirt. His eye was drawn to his bedside table where his cellphone was charging, noticing the glow of a notification.

He was notoriously negligent about checking his phone or carrying it with him; there was simply no one who spoke to him on friendly enough terms to call him. Not since she’d disappeared. He picked up the device, curious, and found a text from a number he hadn’t saved but recognized.

When Caleb joined the Fleet, things changed. He was still himself, but they all knew that associating with “Dawnbreaker” could be detrimental to him. Zayne had known it before Caleb did. It was his suggestion to get a burner phone. It had been his idea to speak in code. Caleb was making something of himself, and though Zayne had been extremely trepidatious about his decision, he’d supported him wholeheartedly. This phone number was the evidence that Caleb never forgot his family. It was proof that they were still friends. And now it only made his chest ache.

”Dbmm pgg zpvs eph. J dbo'u mppl uif puifs xbz bu bttbvmujoh bo pggjdfs.”

Zayne recognized it as the old slide code they used to use back when he was ranked low on the totem pole of the Farspace Fleet, all the way to when he was a First Lieutenant. All the way to when Zayne and the excited young woman who’d once shared this apartment with him had gotten the news that a promotion to Captain was on the wings and Caleb was coming home to work in closer proximity to them both.

She had been ecstatic. She’d immediately launched into planning mode, working out the details of what they’d do when he was back and what meal they’d share first, what movie they’d watch, what they’d talk about when he was back. Zayne had been excited too; the quiet yet genuine happiness for his friend. They’d all be back together, at least in some capacity. “Dawnbreaker” was considered a vigilante, a criminal at large at the time, but she’d brushed that aside to plan for quality time, an opportunity to show Caleb what he’d missed while he was away.

And then she was gone. Zayne had always known how deeply in love with her Caleb was, and he knew she felt the same. He’d never interfered when they’d entered adulthood, always opting for them to work things out together. And when she was gone, Caleb had completely reverted to the familiar codependence, the agony of failing to protect her, and he blamed Zayne even though he blamed himself more for leaving her.

Zayne let him. Maybe it was wrong. Maybe it was misplaced, but Zayne had let it happen because at the end of the day, the reason she was in that hospital in the first place was because of him. And there were no signs of forgiveness that Zayne was willing to spend on himself. The girl who made it her mission to bring light and levity to the darkness in Zayne and Caleb was gone, and instead of banding together, they’d fallen apart. Zayne felt his heart wilt with how sad she would be to see them both like this. Knowing what he knew now, he still questioned: was this Astra’s fault, or a consequence of the brutally fractured world he’d engineered around them?

Zayne read the text with a held breath, working out the code in his head.

Call off your dog. I can't look the other way at assaulting an officer.

Zayne squinted at the message, checking himself and decoding it again and again. It didn’t make sense. With a heavy mind, he put the phone down without responding, and continued on his way to the convenience store down the block. Godeater’s apartment was quiet, no light under the door to tell him he was home. Night had fallen, and Zayne was sure he was gone now.

The hum of the lights taunted him on the way to the elevator, and he tried to keep his thoughts at bay as it descended to the first floor. He shifted his thoughts back to Sylus as the open air kissed his face outside of the door of the lobby. He’d heard someone speak in his vision; it was their mission to keep him alive.

Zayne wondered why. If they’d captured him, did they intend to use him? Recruit him? If Astra wanted them all dead and disheartened, why was Sylus’ survival essential? Regardless, it fueled the fractured hope in his chest that Sylus was alive now. Where he was, Zayne couldn’t say. Likely back at the facility he’d seen in his vision.

Zayne wandered into the convenience store, drifting through the empty aisles of snacks only to end at the small section of sweets and chocolate. He grabbed a fistfull of several packages of truffles, not bothering to look at the brand or cost, and bundled them in his arms before he reached the glass cases in the back to reach for a soda. Blueberry flavored.

This space was eerie late at night, with no one but him and the cashier around surrounded by the green-tinted fluorescent lights around them and the soft hum of electricity from the coolers that held all manner of drinks from liquor to water.

Zayne dumped his conquests on the counter in front of him, pulling out his wallet in expectation, waiting to hear a price from the cashier. He’d been coming here for years, and there was a silent rapport between them. Zayne didn’t like to talk, and the cashier didn’t like to listen, but he spoke now.

“Taken care of.” the burly man said gruffly. “Someone started a tab for you. Filled it up, too.”

Zayne glanced up in surprise.

“Excuse me?”

“Tab’s full.” the man said, ringing up Zayne’s purchases on the register, not to charge him but to deduct. “You’re good.”

“I didn’t pay for these.” Zayne objected, failing to understand. The man behind the counter waved his hand.

“You’re good.” he repeated, almost annoyed. “Oh, he told me to give you this.”

He pushed an envelope over the counter towards Zayne along with a plastic bag to hold all of his items. Zayne eyed the cashier with confused eyes, but bagged his choices up hesitantly, and took the envelope from him. He moved towards the door slowly, casting a look back at the burly man as if this was a trap and he’d be stopped from leaving. But he wasn’t looking at Zayne at all now, invested in a magazine he’d been reading.

Zayne made the trip back home in utter confusion. He didn’t open the envelope until he was in the elevator. Picking at the sticky seal, he pulled a slick-textured photo out of the paper confines to stare at it with nervous eyes. His mouth dropped at the image just as the elevator dinged before the doors slid open with a squeak.

Zayne had to push out a hand to brace the door from closing on him as he stared at the image. The photo showed him at the old man’s booth, surrounded by rock and stone and bathed in a warm amber glow as he grasped the hand of the old man that he’d patronized for information about Sylus. He remembered the moment, shaking his withered hand to be passed a slip of paper that would lead him to a contact that could sell him Sylus’ story.

Zayne felt a ripple of anxiety tingle across his shoulders, face, and limbs at the image. Someone was watching him. He hadn’t been delusional after all. He felt a pool of worry opening up in his stomach, making him feel sick. When he flipped the photograph over to the back, the feeling worsened. The handwriting was both formal and chaotic, a script of few words but still in a jangled form of cursive that had come from the hand of someone both eloquent and manic.

So close… :)

The smile drawn in to the antagonizing words was punctuated with an exaggerated grin that made Zayne’s skin crawl. He glanced at the empty hall, and beelined for his apartment, using his key to unlock the door with a frantic click.

He entered his home, turning to lock the door. For a moment he felt safe. For a second his sanctuary made him feel sane and in control. He closed his eyes, breathing a steadying breath to center himself to hold on to his sanity so he could decipher this mess.

His breath steadied. His heart rate came back home to normal. His face relaxed and so did his shoulders. Then came the storm.

Zayne’s breath clutched in his chest as a wild pressure pushed him against the back of his front door like a battering ram. A cry escaped his chest from the shock, and he felt himself being pressed into the flimsy wood chest-first with a flush warmth of solid muscle aligning down his back. Gloved hands braced his wrists and he dropped the plastic bag of chocolate and soda along with his key that clacked across the linoleum floor and the photo that drifted out of his grasp before it sank forgotten on the ground at Zayne's feet in the herald of a crisis.

He was trapped. His mind struggled to catch up to the sudden imposing force behind him, and raced to put together that someone was pinning him against the door. He tested the strength of the hold with his wrists only to find them securely held in long, gloved fingers. Panic entered his mind, and words entered his ears along with a heavy, plastic feeling of a gas mask that crowded his jaw and neck as if to whisper in his ear. The voice was scattered, distorted from the mask on his attacker’s face, but his words were clear.

“I win. Now be good for me, we need to have a chat.”

Zayne grit his teeth. His body tensed, and he let his Evol build within his core to let him strike first.

Chapter Text

Zayne the Godeater made another pilgrimage across realities. He let out a huff of exertion, the strain pulling against his lungs with tired cadence as he traveled through another jasmine to a world that wasn’t his. He cursed at the dark sky he landed under; he had not intended to come knocking in the middle of the night. It couldn’t be helped. He swallowed, mouth dry as he surveyed the house before him.

He’d seen this scene before when it was a memory and not a door to the present state of things. He had seen the Doctor and the Conqueror come here after their wedding, realizing that this was their home with each other in pure happiness. Now, night had fallen and much time had passed between that memory and the events that made the jasmine a doorway to their reality.

Zayne’s encounter with the Doctor in Dawnbreaker’s body had been tense. The Doctor was adamant that the situation in Dawnbreaker’s world did not have anything to do with him, but Zayne knew he was smarter than that. There must be something else stilling his action and closing his mind to the looming threat.

They needed him. Dawnbreaker was trying to find his Sylus and put together the pieces of his fractured world. Zayne himself was straining every day to understand the modern world around him, only able to go off of Dawnbreaker’s world while he supplied the magic and training to control his power. It might have been enough, but the Doctor was just as involved as they were by Zayne’s standards. From his description of the dream at Mt. Eternal, Zayne knew that the Doctor and Dawnbreaker were more alike than either of them imagined.

Zayne took in the tall house, painted a dark navy blue with clean lines and a classic frame. A perfect haven in the middle of nowhere for a place to call home. Zayne looked at the ambient outdoor lighting that accentuated their home in the darkness of the night, painting shadows across the lawn and the trunks of the two trees that sat on the property. The house was isolated, out of the territory that Sylus commanded and away from the bright lights of the city.

He knew that the Doctor was going to be livid upon seeing him again, and though he wished he could avoid it, he stepped out of the shadows to the illuminated lawn of the property he shared with his Sylus. He’d no sooner crossed the property line when the night sprung into action. Zayne had only seconds to pull on his mask to conceal his face before two shadows seemed to blur past him and then round close to him to subdue him with bruising force.

Zayne allowed one person to yank his arms behind his back and force him to kneel on the ground while the other held a pistol to his head. He felt his wrists being constricted in some sort of binding of hard plastic, pulling taut enough to make them ache and keep him from moving.

“Who are you, and what business do you have with the Bosses?” one of them asked him in a crisp, cunning voice. Zayne stayed silent.

“You’re going to regret this.” the other taunted him, nudging the barrel of the gun into the skin of his temple. Zayne winced with the pressure, knees cushioned by the plush green grass that seemed to grow as an oasis in this no man’s land.

In front of him, the front door swung open and a tall, dark presence walked out. Sylus, the Relentless Conqueror of Onychinus stepped into the light. Even in his robe of black silk and cotton pants suited for sleeping, he was an imposing force. The way he walked commanded respect like royalty and his face commanded answers. He held his own gun, secure in his large hand and his expression pulled into a snarl as he approached the twins holding a trespasser on his knees.

“And who do we have here?” Sylus taunted, reaching down to tip Zayne’s chin up with the barrel of his pistol. Zayne let him, and looked up to meet Sylus’ scarlet eyes.

Sylus’ fierce expression dropped, confusion making his lips part and forced his focus on those eyes of perfect green. The same eyes that Sylus looked into every morning. The same ones he went to sleep to. The same ones he’d married. His expression faltered for only a moment, and he leaned down to grab Zayne’s arm roughly, pulling him to his feet.

“I’ll take it from here, excellent job, you two.” Sylus said with a nod, hauling Zayne across the yard and into the dark house. The twin shadows disappeared back to their hiding places, and Sylus shut the door behind Zayne, letting go of his arm briefly to disable a silent alarm with the panel of buttons on the wall.

Sylus dragged Zayne through the dark house, and directed him to sit on a plush couch before turning on a lamp to better see him. He tugged Zayne’s mask off of his face and his jaw set with a frown. He knew what he’d see when he’d gotten a look at Zayne’s eyes outside, but it was still jarring to see his husband’s face on someone else.

Zayne glanced around the living room while Sylus scrambled to figure out what to do with him. Near the television set on the far side of the room was a wooden box, painted a dark red with a simple latch, unlocked. Next to it was a toy playset that mimicked a chemistry lab full of brightly-colored plastic beakers, test tubes and eye goggles. A small bookshelf to the opposite wall under the stairs had a mixture of picture books and coloring pages, interspersed with bright covers of storybooks. Zayne knew enough from Dawnbreaker’s dreams that they were heavily involved in their niece, Amelia’s life, and he wondered if she was at the age now to enjoy such things.

“He’s going to be furious that you’re here.” Sylus finally said, running a hand through his silver hair with exasperation.

“I wouldn’t have come if it wasn’t absolutely necessary.” Zayne said firmly. “We need him.”

Zayne heard footsteps descending down the stairs to the left of the living room, and a pit formed in his stomach for the wrath about to come his way.

“Sylus, what was it?” The Doctor said, rounding the corner to step into the light. He was barefoot, dressed in white pajamas, and Zayne could make out the light shadow of a scar that looped all the way around the base of his throat and the glimmer of a wedding band around his left ring finger. His left index and middle fingers were both bandaged. His sleepy face immediately pulled into an enraged snarl upon seeing Zayne on his couch, hands bound tightly behind him.

“I told you no, and you come to my home? What do you think you’re doing here in the middle of the night like this, how dare you?” he hissed at Zayne through gritted teeth.

“I didn’t intend to wake you both, I apologize for the intrusion.” Zayne said. “I’m trying to change your mind. You’re more sensitive than you think to the tears in reality. You have more to do with this than you can imagine.”

“I don’t care. You need to leave. Now.” said the Doctor angrily in a low voice, trying desperately not to raise his voice.

Zayne let out a frustrated breath and called upon a tenant of Abyssal magic to free himself from the heavy plastic zip ties that held his hands together; he’d only complied with them to be polite. He reached for the hem of his shirt and lifted it over his chest to show them both his blue markings of a fiend that mimicked the pattern of his dragon’s perfectly. He looked at Sylus’ surprised face.

“You’ve seen these marks before on someone who wore your face.” he said. It wasn’t a question, but a statement of fact. Sylus pursed his lips, and Zayne knew that he remembered his conversation with the Sovereign of the Abyss.

“You’re the one who tore the barrier.” Sylus said quietly. “He was dying when he told me about you.”

“Thanks to you, he made it.” Zayne said, the corners of his lips upturning as he covered his chest again.

“So it’s your fault, then. These dreams, waking up in a different place with someone else’s body. It’s your fault.” The Doctor seethed, arms crossed defensively.

“I am not the one who disturbs your sleep.” Zayne said stoically. Guilt gripped his chest like ice that wouldn’t melt. “But I did make it possible. My hands aren’t clean in this situation.”

The Doctor opened his mouth to continue laying into him when he stiffened, hearing a soft noise on the stairs. Instinctively, Sylus pulled his pistol behind his back, out of view. The Doctor turned to walk towards the stairs, and Zayne saw the reason that the Doctor had been so quick to shut them down. The reason he refused to compromise or even hear them out at all.

In the spaces between the spindles of the stairs, two curious little eyes looked out at him. Zayne felt his breath still in his throat, and his eyes widened. The Doctor’s words came back to him. There’s too much to lose. Despite the threats on the horizon, he couldn’t bring himself to leave. He couldn’t bring himself to risk the possibility of never coming home.

“Who is that, Daddy?” said the little girl, no older than three years old, in between a sleepy yawn. The Doctor met her on the stairs, his hand reaching for her shoulder to gently turn her away from the living room.

“It’s nobody, my love. Come, it’s time to go back to bed.” The Doctor said softly, all anger and venom completely gone from his voice. The little girl raised her hands, wanting to be picked up. Zayne saw the Doctor hesitate, and then reach for her hand instead to walk her up the stairs.

“He looks just like you…are there two Daddies?” she asked him as they climbed the stairs.

“No, I promise there’s only one Daddy.” he assured her softly, words laced with adoration as he led her back to her bedroom on the second floor.

Zayne couldn’t wipe the shock from his face. He looked at Sylus, whose expression was nothing short of heartbroken.

“He’s terrified to hold her now.” Sylus said quietly, staring after his husband. “Ever since the first time he woke up as someone else. He’s afraid to fall asleep. The second time it happened, he dozed off standing up when he was trying to make dinner, and cut himself on a knife. I know it was an accident, but it horrified him. She wasn’t in the house at the time, thank god, but he’s scared he’s going to hurt her.”

“I’m sorry.” Zayne breathed. Sylus looked back at him, scarlet eyes desperate.

“Please tell me you can fix these dreams. He’s trying so hard to function despite them, but neither of us know what to say when our daughter asks why her father won’t pick her up anymore.” Sylus pleaded. Zayne’s throat felt tight, and his own heart ached for them both.

“We’re working on it.” Zayne promised. “Dawnbreaker dreams of you because your reality is so similar to his. He hasn’t found his Sylus yet, so he dreams of a world where you found each other. I can’t imagine my life without Sylus. Can you imagine your life without Zayne?”

Sylus looked uncomfortable, turning the question over in his mind. He put the gun down on the table next to the loveseat near the couch.

“The fiend said that you were strong. And if I know anything about you in any reality, you’re coming up with a plan to put a stop to this.” Sylus said. Footsteps descended the stairs once again, and Sylus looked at the Doctor with soft eyes.

For a moment, they just looked at each other in silent communication. It made Zayne’s chest feel hollow; it was the same synergy he shared with his dragon. Longing filled his heart. He wished that things were different, and he could simply go home to stay in the shelter of his arms and the warmth of his wings.

The Doctor seemed to give in, letting out a resigned sigh. Sylus reached out with a hand and his Zayne stepped back into the light to take it, allowing himself to be led to sit on the loveseat with their fingers intertwined.

“I’m not agreeing to anything, but I’m willing to listen to the facts of the matter.” The Doctor said, his eyes still narrowed and distrustful. “Start at the beginning.”

Zayne nodded, tracing a silver seal into the air to show them his story.

Chapter Text

In hindsight, Sylus really should have seen this coming. He had expected a struggle, handled with the same callousness and removed attitude that the Dawnbreaker used on his targets when he hunted. What he was not expecting was for every bit of tension and paranoia that had crawled inside of Zayne for the last few weeks to come out of him like a flood.

Zayne was fast and brutal with his strikes, no room for Sylus to speak or taunt. He was right to assume that Zayne was deadly. He could end this if he could just work his mask off and shock Zayne into inaction, but the Reaper wasn’t letting up on his icy attacks. Sylus supposed that he could have showed up without the mask at all, but where was the fun in that?

The reaction had been fast, faster than the blink of an eye when Sylus had sneaked upon him, and he was knocked back with an icy wave, barely dodging a lethally sharp spike of ice that nicked his side. He caught his balance, pulling his knife from his boot to defend himself.

Zayne fired another wave at him, turning and watching his attacker try to weave through the shards of ice and deflect several of the needle-like icicles away from his chest and heart. Several cuts started to bleed where Zayne had attacked him, and the force of the first blow had his ribs aching painfully in his chest.

Zayne’s attacker was dressed in black, covering his face from nose to chin with a mask, and wearing a black cap with a visor that covered his hair and shaded his eyes. Zayne felt as vindicated as he was furious. He knew he hadn’t made it up. He’d been second guessing himself the whole time, and now his stalker had walked right into his home to do god knew what to him.

He froze one of Sylus’ long legs in place, and summoned a larger stake of ice to hurl at him. He grunted in frustration when a red-black mist appeared to crack the ice holding Sylus in place so he could rush at Zayne. Zayne directed his power back to the floor, and summoned a thin, slick screen of frost on the ground right as his attacker began to move towards him.

Sylus hadn’t seen that coming and his feet slid on the slippery surface. Zayne fired another forceful blast of frosty air to keep him from regaining his balance, and watched Sylus fall to the ground. He pounced, straddling him with a sharp stake in his hand to keep him from getting up.

Sylus landed on his back, the wind knocked out of him and his head clacking against the hard floor. He reacted, and barely had time to recover to hold his knife to Zayne’s throat to stop him from impaling him with a stake of ice. He held back a groan; at least one of his ribs was definitely broken, and would take a bit of time to heal. His black cap had fallen off of his head and Zayne stared, ice still raised aloft. Sylus was grinning underneath his mask, enjoying the shocked expression on Zayne’s face.

There was no mistaking it; silver hair and a single red eye gleaming back at him as if he was having the time of his life. A cold, confused recognition fired in Zayne’s mind. Zayne moved a careful hand to unbuckle the strap of his mask, and Sylus reacted; he wasn’t quite done with this game just yet.

He moved his knife away from Zayne’s throat and used his free hand to wrap around the back of Zayne’s bicep, jerking him forward to bring him closer. He hooked a leg around Zayne’s ankle, anchoring his place on the ground. Sylus hauled his bodyweight to the side, flipping their positions on the ground and keeping a tight hold on one of his wrists, grunting with a sharp pain in his torso as he did so. Zayne yelped with the sudden grapple and dropped his stake in surprise before feeling the edge of a blade back in its place near his throat.

Zayne’s first instinct was to fight back, knock him over, do something besides stare into that single ruby eye. Even without seeing his face, Zayne knew that this was both the man he’d been looking for, and the person taunting him behind the scenes. His mind fumbled for explanation, doubt and confusion paralyzed him, and Sylus chuckled at him.

“So savage in a fight. How scary, Reaper.” he said, voice distorted and broken through the mask he wore. He tried to keep his voice steady through the pain in his side and the sting of his cuts. Despite the pain, he was enjoying this. Zayne swallowed, summoning the willpower to look defiant.

“I know who you are.” Zayne said firmly, lips falling into a slight frown and eyes narrowed. “Show me see your face.”

“You’re no fun.” Sylus said coyly, glancing down at his lips before dragging his gaze back up into those perfect sea-glass eyes. “But you are direct. I like that about you.”

Sylus leaned closer, careful with his knife so as not to cut Zayne. Their faces were so close now, enough for Zayne to see the definition of his dark eyelashes and smell a faint scent of amber and musk from the man on top of him.

“I know plenty about you, but let’s see what you’ve learned.” Sylus pulled the knife away from his throat and used the sharp point of it to tip Zayne’s chin up as if he meant to kiss him. “Tell me three things you’ve learned about me, and if they’re true, I’ll show you my face.”

“And if they’re wrong?” Zayne asked. His tone was sarcastic, but he was manually timing his breaths to keep it from hitching in his chest. Sylus ran the flat of the knife along his jawline.

“Maybe I’ll punish you. Misinformation is very dangerous, after all.” Sylus purred. Zayne scoffed at him, turning his face away. This was absurd. Sylus shrugged, leaning back and releasing Zayne’s wrist, running his gloved fingers down the soft scarred skin of his forearm while he sat up on his knees.

“I could just leave.” Sylus said nonchalantly, thumbing over the edge of the knife as if to test its sharpness. “You already know who I am, maybe you’re not so curious after all, Reaper.”

His gaze flicked back to Zayne, and he drank in the way he swallowed in uncertainty, and how he stared at the mask on his face with conflict in his eyes. He smirked as he caught the very second that Zayne gave in.

“Maybe you just came here to kill me.” Zayne breathed, looking back at him dryly. Sylus resumed his position, leaning over Zayne and bracing himself, his left hand laid flat next to Zayne’s head on the floor, caging him in a way that Zayne could have easily prevented.

“Maybe I did. But I appreciate a good game.” he murmured. “And it’s no fun playing by yourself.”

Sylus pretended not to notice the shiver from Zayne. Zayne pursed his lips and forced himself to look back at Sylus with a neutral face. He knew Sylus was playing with him, he’d done so all along. But the tension in the room was palatable, and Zayne felt like he was under a spell, drawn in to Sylus’ playful gaze magnetically.

“They called you ‘The King of Thieves,’ and ‘Carrion.’ Now they call you a ghost.” Zayne said. Sylus stole another glance at Zayne’s lips, tapping the point of the blade on his collarbone.

“What else?”

Zayne’s heart raced. The energy between them was undeniable. He continued, hypnotised.

“The Fleet took your eye. They did something else to you, too. But you don’t know what.” Zayne breathed. Sylus’ eye widened, looking back at Zayne with bewilderment. How could he have known that? Sylus let out a chuckle of disbelief.

“Impressive.” he conceded. Zayne watched him, trying to gauge Sylus’ full reaction when only a fraction of his face was exposed. At the pause in his words, Sylus raised the hand holding the knife to stroke his cheek with the back of his gloved fingers in fascination. This time he felt the shiver under his touch, and his voice went soft. “Don’t give up now.”

“You’ve been following me, probably for longer than I know. You killed that Alterum.” Zayne said, forcing his words out through the thickness in his throat. Sylus said nothing, and moved with unexpected force to drive the blade of his knife savagely into the linoleum next to Zayne’s head.

Zayne held back a flinch, turning his head to gaze at the silver knife just inches away from his face. Sylus slid his hands to Zayne’s wrists. Zayne felt a heat pool in his core with the touch, but allowed Sylus to guide his hands to the mask on his face. Sylus brought their faces closer together, and Zayne felt himself drawn back into his careful gaze. After Sylus had fixed Zayne’s hands to the front of the hard plastic barrier between their faces, he brought his own hands up to release the two slide locks on his mask.

The power was in Zayne’s hands now. The straps fell, and only the pads of Zayne’s slender fingers supported the weight of the gas mask on his face. Sylus watched him, waiting for what he would do next with a held breath. Zayne felt his heart pounding in his chest and his breath quickened. He knew what he would see underneath, but the anticipation was heated, delicious on a dangerous level. Was he prepared for everything that would follow unmasking the man above him?

"Say my name." Sylus urged him, voice full of anticipation, desire to hear it from Zayne's lips.

Seconds passed between them, full of electricity, full of potential. Zayne felt the closeness, the heat from Sylus’ chest bearing down upon him, and his face flushed. Sylus held his eyes but even he was on baited breath for what came next. Look at me. Sylus thought with an edge that reeked of longing. Please look at me.

Zayne wet his lips, preparing for everything to change, and he let his fingers fall, cradling the heavy plastic of the mask in the tips of his fingers.

"Sylus." he whispered, feeling the mask sink off of Sylus’ face naturally, moving as if he was suspended in honey; slow, fluid. Zayne let the mask tumble out of his hands and clatter to the floor nearby, resisting an urge to touch the bare face in front of him.

A red creasemark lined the bridge of his nose and divoted the skin above his high cheekbones. There he was; an angled jaw and a narrowed chin, a smile playing across his cheshire lips as though he’d been looking forward to Zayne taking off his mask for him all day.

His scarlet gaze softened, and his lips parted. Their faces were close, too close together. Enough for their noses to brush with a ghost of a touch as Sylus spoke to him in the voice that Zayne recognized from his dreams pulled into a whisper. Zayne could feel a touch of warmth on his skin with every syllable that Sylus spoke.

“Hello, Reaper.”

The heat in Zayne’s abdomen jumped and his eyes fluttered closed at the sound of his voice washing over him like a velvet shroud. A soft sigh left his lips involuntarily and Sylus felt his mouth water at the sight.

Zayne’s eyes flew open at the sound of the knife being wrenched out of the linoleum floor next to his head. His legs were beginning to fall asleep, but he didn’t want to move a muscle. Didn’t want to risk the chance that the spell could be broken between them. Sylus glided the tip of the knife over Zayne’s bottom lip, examining him like a specimen he wanted to keep forever.

“You can keep going.” Sylus crooned, the purr of his true voice on display now. “Maybe I’ll take something else off…”

“‘How shameless of you.” Zaye quipped, finding his steely voice even through the fog while the sharp metal ran down his chin to the soft skin of his neck. Sylus smirked at him, and Zayne hated how good he looked when he smirked.

The knife made its way to the opening of Zayne’s V-neck shirt, and Sylus angled it to brush the opening in the faded cotton further to the side to expose the edge of a tattoo above his heart.

“Domus.” Sylus said, reading the Latin word emblazoned on his pale chest in a font that reminded him of a gothic church or a sacred ritual. He flicked his gaze to Zayne’s to translate it. “Home.”

The gesture felt intimate. Secret. Zayne’s face was lined with a pink to his cheeks that had him looking away while Sylus explored him. How did he end up here? Why had he allowed it to go this far?

Sylus wouldn’t let him go, and slid a cool flat of the blade to Zayne’s hot cheek to pull him back into his eyes. Zayne’s nose wrinkled and his mouth moved, irritated at his own reaction. Sylus watched him bring himself back to neutral silently.

“I’ve seen your face, surely you have to kill me now.” Zayne said with a dry throat. He was being coy; Sylus knew it and so did he. He couldn’t stop himself. He couldn’t stop the urge to look at his lips, or the cuts he’d made in his knit turtleneck. He couldn’t stop the heat in his body. He couldn't stop the haze that had set into his cheeks as he blushed.

Zayne courted the darkness. There was no one here to tell him ‘no.’ No one to take care of, no one to save at this moment. Only him, the burden of solitude, and the heavy chest flush against his that made him nearly forget his purpose altogether.

“‘Oh, Reaper…” Sylus trailed off, his breath tickling Zayne’s lips. He leaned back, pulling himself away in a cruel tease. “You’ve gone through all this trouble to find me, and you have no idea what to do once you have me.”

The knife grazed against his cheek again, and Zayne was jolted back to reality when Sylus nicked him with the sharp tip, just shallow enough to form a bead of blood at his cheek bone. Sylus skimmed it with the edge of the weapon, careful not to injure him further, and brought it to his lips. He kept eye contact, letting the tip of his tongue flick out to taste the tang of Zayne’s adrenaline.

Zayne’s expression hardened, back to the defiant, cold mask he’d worn before. Sylus huffed in laughter.

“That’s alright. I’ve got plenty of things to ask you.” he said with a dangerous edge to his voice.

Zayne didn’t flinch as Sylus moved his bangs away from his forehead with the tip of his blade. He didn’t know whether to be exhilarated or afraid, and simply settled for a mixture of both.

Chapter Text

Zayne sat upright in a chair at his kitchen table, arms folded and eyes steely. He watched Sylus drag another chair from the other side of the table to place directly in front of him, plopping down and leaning back as if he was making himself at home. The intimidating tactical knife remained in his gloved hand with a softened grip, and the cuts that winked from under his black turtleneck seemed to be healing up in tiny sparks of black-red mist. He still protected his left side as if it still hurt, but seemed somewhat unbothered by the pain.

It had been surprisingly easy for Zayne to pry his stalker off of him; he simply had to refuse to answer any questions unless they were both in chairs and pretending to know what personal space was. Zayne’s legs still tingled with the static feeling of having fallen asleep, but his face stayed a mask of stone and his green eyes never drifted from the scarlet gaze that Sylus kept on his face with a cheeky smile to his curved lips.

“Why were you looking for me?” Sylus said, cutting through the tension. Zayne set his jaw, realizing that many of his questions would have absurd answers.

“I saw you in a dream.” he said simply. Technically true. Sylus studied his face, remembering the soft way he’d murmured his name in sleep.

“No.” he said for a moment, continuing to watch Zayne’s face for any twitch, any indication of a reaction. “There’s a deeper reason. One you don’t trust me to know just yet. Why is that, I wonder?”

“I wasn’t expecting you to be completely mad.” Zayne quipped. Sylus chuckled, leaning forward to tap the top of Zayne’s kneecap with his knife.

“What were you expecting, then?” he said playfully. Zayne looked away, trying to dodge the question. Sylus was intrigued; what sort of pre-conceived notions had Zayne had for him? He supposed he could give Zayne a bit of grace. He’d just come to learn that the man he was looking for had been over his shoulder and laying comfortably in his shadow for weeks now. It was only fair. Still, he’d circle back to that.

“Why did the Fleet take your eye?” Zayne asked as if to shepherd them past the awkward silence.

“Ah ah.” Sylus tuttled, reaching out to guide Zayne’s face back to center. “It’s my turn to talk, and it’s rude to interrupt.”

“And breaking into my house to attack me and question me at knife point was what, table manners?” Zayne spat at him. Sylus’ smile sharpened and his lonely eye twinkled in the light overhead.

“If I recall, you threw the first blow, Reaper. Not me.” he purred, gaze traveling down Zayne’s tense body. “Although I have been known to play with my food.”

“Enough.” Zayne said with a cutting tone, but Sylus did not miss the dusting of pink to his cheeks. He shrugged.

“Why couldn’t I find any information on your brother in the system? I found you, but no record of your brother being placed into care or put up for adoption.” Sylus said, shifting back to business. Zayne stared at him, his neutral mask faltering in surprise and confusion. He’d found Zayne’s adoption records, a document even he hadn’t laid eyes on himself. What else did he know?

“Probably because I don’t have a brother.” Zayne scoffed, trying to save face. Sylus’ face went sour.

“There’s no sense in lying.” he said in a more serious tone now. “I saw you talking. Someone who looked exactly like you down to the color of your pretty eyes. He had a tattoo.”

Sylus circled Zayne’s wrist to pull it away from his chest and expose his forearm, littered with scars from ice and battle but naked of ink.

“Right here.” Sylus tapped the soft skin with the flat of the knife. Zayne swallowed, stiffening from the touch and insides curling at the realization.

Sylus had seen the Godeater, and assumed that they were identical twins. A reasonable assumption to someone outside of the situation, he had to admit, but now he couldn’t put a lie behind it.

“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.” Zayne said dismissively, wrenching his hand away from Sylus’ gloved grip. Sylus chuckled, leaning back in his chair to cross his legs.

“Try me.”

Zayne grappled with what to tell him; eventually Sylus would need to know anyway. He wished he could consult with the demi-fiend now. As hopeful as his search for Sylus had been, Zayne had no idea how to navigate the clusters of the situation he found himself in now. His only defense now was that the truth was stranger than fiction.

“That was just me from an alternate reality. He got that tattoo from a dragon, who looked a lot like you now that I think about it.” Zayne deadpanned. He suppressed the urge to smirk at the incredulous face Sylus was giving him now. “For someone so fond of hearing himself speak, you seem to be quiet now.”

“I’m simply astounded that this was the lie you chose to go with, elaborate though it is.” Sylus said, trying to recover from the shock of something so far-fetched coming out of Zayne’s typically rational mouth. First it was a dream, and now an alternate reality? He huffed, drawing the knife back up to tease the sharp edge over Zayne’s jugular in a warning. “I think you can stop with this nonsense.”

”You first.” Zayne challenged. Sylus couldn’t conceal a throaty chuckle, losing the threatening facade once again. Zayne was fascinating in every way.

“A quick mind and an arrant tongue…” Sylus watched his lips and wet his own before looking back into the cruel green eyes that threatened him wordlessly. His voice swung low into a husky tone, almost a purr. “Careful, Reaper. I might just keep you.”

“You might try.” Zayne snapped sardonically. Sylus smirked at him in smug amusement, and forced himself to focus on his questions. He glanced at the table of messy papers and used the knife to flick a missing poster off of the edge for him to catch and hold up to Zayne’s face.

“Who is this?” Sylus said, unintentionally terse with his words. “Who is she to you?”

Zayne almost sighed in relief. Finally, a question with a reasonable answer.

“She’s family, and she’s missing.” Zayne said, a swell of sadness lacing his words. “I’m still looking for her. You haven’t seen her, have you?”

“No.” Sylus said with a moment of wavering hesitation.

Sylus knew what he was really asking under the surface, but it was clear that Zayne did not. He wanted to ask about the box of her clothes in his closet, or the sadness in his eyes, but Sylus held back. His mood stabilized, deciding to take Zayne at his word for now. He still felt the familiar feeling hearing her name and seeing her face, but it wasn’t enough to speak to. He had to move on.

“How do you know the Captain of Sector Enforcement?” Sylus said, resuming a direct tone. Zayne nodded, grateful for another reasonable question with an equally reasonable answer.

“A former friend.” he said. His face was stoic, but his tone seemed sad, just as it had sounded mournful in the alley when Zayne had pleaded for him to listen. Sylus gave a nod. So you ARE capable of telling the truth. he thought.

“Why hasn’t he arrested you?”

“Because even if we’re at odds, he knows that while the Farspace Fleet sit on their asses wrapped in red tape and focusing on controlling the movements of the population, I do what they won’t.” Zayne said with an unexpected sneer in his voice.

Sylus was momentarily jarred but hearing Zayne’s visceral reaction and colorful language reminded him intimately of the language he’d used as a young adult, still angry, still trapped. He wondered if Zayne had a similar experience. He’d never heard Zayne swear over his breath, and wondered what bled the venom into his words: the Fleet or the hunt?

He cocked his head, thinking for a moment about the way Zayne hunted, as if he wasn’t “hunting” at all. The reverence, how every kill of his screamed of sorrow. It was like every stake to the heart or blow that ended in a flurry of metaflux was an apology, taking some sort of responsibility he shouldn’t, shouldering blame that didn’t belong to him.

“You mercy kill them. The Alterum.” Sylus said soberly. Zayne shifted uncomfortably, and turned away from Sylus’ scrutinizing gaze. Zayne felt a distinct absence of Sylus’ knife, and had for a bit now. He hesitated, but continued.

“It’s more than they’ll get in a lab or a jail cell.” Zayne said sullenly, crossing his arms again, resigned. “And not that the Fleet has noticed, but they kill fewer civilians when they don’t complete the transformation. When they’re allowed to die.”

A ripple of something deep sounded in Sylus; respect, admiration, empathy?

“No one ever asks you, do they? What that’s like, or how hard it is? How it feels?” Sylus said softly without thinking. “No one sees you worry about your family, they only see you kill.”

Zayne eyed Sylus with distrust. Maybe he was playing with him again, taunting him in some way. But his voice sounded so genuine and soft now. He was looking at Zayne with a new expression, one without the chastising smile or a mean look in his eye. He seemed…moved.

“It feels like my responsibility.” Zayne said, almost involuntarily, face relaxing from its suspicious tension.

Sylus caught the tone of his voice, and for just a brief glimpse of a second, he felt a flutter in his chest. The dull ache was back in his head, and a low buzzing noise crowded his senses. He swallowed, trying to push past it, testing his limits. He wanted to keep talking like this, with honesty and authenticity.

“When was the last time you put the burden down, even if it was just for a moment?” Sylus asked him, the pain clamping down on his head like a vise that made his breath stutter. “Do you think you’re condemned to be the Atlus of the world, holding the sky on your shoulders?”

“If not me, then who?” Zayne said quietly, flicking his eyes back up into Sylus’ intense stare. Sylus balked. No answer prepared for this. Zayne’s gaze looked next to hollow and his expression was weary, and Sylus felt himself reacting in a way that made the pain in his head angry.

Zayne gave him a moment, concern growing over his face as he watched Sylus take a heavy breath. A calm rushed over Sylus’ face, muting his thoughts, dulling his feelings. The pain was dull but manageable. And then Zayne spoke again.

“And what about you?” Zayne asked. He was looking at Sylus’ eye again, as if trying to see through him, pick him apart. “You’re a prodigy, the darling of the Rogue’s Collective…why does someone with so much accolade feel the need to fake his death when you should be surrounded by your people?”

Sylus swallowed, desperately trying to keep the feelings in his chest to a simmer. He was silently overwhelmed again; as if his emotions were programmed to be overly receptive to Zayne but then punished for doing their job correctly.

“Are you alright?” Zayne said. The strain in Sylus’ face was too stark to ignore. Sylus gave a fake smirk that didn’t reach his eye and chuckled at him as if to chide him.

“First you think I’m a madman and now you want to know if I’m okay, which is it, Reaper?” Sylus said with a forced smile as he scrambled to stifle his panic and impulse into dust. Zayne felt his mouth go dry, but he answered thickly.

“I think you’re in pain.”

Something new broke inside of Sylus, and it unleashed a sharp spike of pain in his head that doubled him over, his grip slackened around his knife until it dropped to the ground, and Sylus pressed gloved fingers into his temples, trying to drive off the headache.

He heard the hazy sound of Zayne’s light voice asking if he was okay, asking if he needed something. He felt as though he was sinking into a spiral of disjointed images and colors. He needed to leave. He’d come here looking for information and to continue his little cat and mouse game only to find himself in some kind of trap.

He’s just a person. He’s just a mark. He’s no one I know. Sylus told himself. The pain slowly receded, and when he looked back at Zayne, it was like he was seeing him in a different way. Colder, less personal, at a safe distance. The deeper questions asked between them hung in the air, and Sylus knew that it was time to wave them away.

“Game over. For now at least, Reaper.” he said dismissively, finding his voice and standing up. The soft concern in his tone was gone, replaced with a voice that sounded fake, bored. He tore his gaze away from Zayne’s confused face as he went to gather his cap and mask from the floor. He had many more questions to ask Zayne, but something stirred in the air that had his mind in a vise and screaming at Sylus to go. To leave before it got worse. Everything else would need to wait. He’s just a person. He’s just a mark. He’s no one I know.

“What was the point of this?” Zayne asked him as he turned his back. Sylus locked his mask back into place as he walked towards the door. His head turned to look over his left shoulder and give Zayne one last look.

“Now you know beyond the shadow of a doubt that I’m watching.” Sylus said, his true voice concealed behind the mask. “And you know that you could have shut this down at any time. Sweet dreams, Reaper.”

Sylus left through the front door, leaving Zayne with a tangle of his own thoughts and a lead weight in his stomach. Zayne’s eyes trained to an object on the floor, and he hesitantly bent down to pick it up. Zayne held the heavy knife in his hands as if it could tell him what had just happened, but all he heard was silence.

Chapter Text

Doctor Zayne Li stared at the closing portal that his other self had conjured to explain the situation. The tale of the Foreseer and the Dragon lingered in his mind. He was enchanted with the discovery that the love between Sylus and Zayne was a constant, something spanning across reality itself. Permeating all timelines except for one.

The touch of a vengeful god had caused rot and decay that diverted Dawnbreaker from meeting his Sylus. In response, his dreams continued the search through the tears in a veil between worlds and landed on their family. It had rattled Zayne to his core. Night after night in Dawnbreaker’s dreams, seeing the darkness and the bloodshed, the chaos that unmitigated Protocore Syndrome had plugged his world into. He could feel Dawnbreaker’s despair, an existence in a cloak of unbearable loneliness.

Zayne felt his husband’s hand squeeze his gently, bringing him back to the light. Zayne’s face was sullen, crestfallen after everything he’d been shown in the past few hours. He kept throwing glances to the staircase, praying that Isolde was still fast asleep in her room, unaware of the prominent danger that would eventually threaten their world.

The Godeater watched him process the information, and seemed truly sorry to have brought this to their door. Zayne felt odd under his serious expression, an unearthly feeling sending off alarm bells in his head whenever he looked for too long at the face that resembled his own in almost every single way. He looked away, unable to hold eye contact for too long without shivering. He felt like he was losing it, like it was all some elaborate hallucination.

Sylus broke the silence first.

“If the Fleet took Carrion’s right eye, and assuming that this version and I are similar enough, they have his aethercore. Are you sure he’s alive?” he asked, mulling over the thought pensively. The Godeater pursed his lips.

“Dawnbreaker is pursuing that lead as we speak. What is an aethercore?” he asked curiously.

Sylus looked at his face, concentrating his scarlet gaze, and his right eye began to glow. Godeater recognized the burning red instantly, remembering how his dragon could do the same through Abyssal Magic.

“You may call it something different, but that is what it is in this world. I know your dragon has a similar power. It stands to reason that Carrion does too. At least he did before it was taken from him.” Sylus explained. Godeater folded his arms, thinking of the implications.

“He’s also a child of the Abyss.” he mused. “Tell me: without his right eye, what would happen to him?”

Sylus chewed at the inside of his cheek as he thought, his brow furrowing in contemplation. His long fingers played with Zayne’s, tethering himself to his presence as much Zayne was tethered to his.

“I imagine that he’ll be weaker. Not critically so, but his ability to heal might be slower. Wounds that can kill instantly would do so because of his Evol’s inability to intervene in time. And he will feel like a part of him was stolen. A piece of him he once held onto dearly.” Sylus thought out loud. “I can only theorize. What I do know is that it enhances the Evol, feeds into it. Losing it would be akin to, well, losing his eye. He’ll still have a perfectly strong Evol, but would need to acclimate to the loss of part of his power. Just as he would have to adjust to losing half of his sight.”

“And this core is powerful, from the sound of it.” Godeater said, following along. Sylus nodded.

“Impressively so. They’re rare, and it’s unknown where they come from at all.” he said.

Godeater nodded, likening it to the Creatio Protocore he’d carried as part of a staff in a previous walk of life. He remembered how much power it took to destroy. Pieces slid together in his mind. The significance of Sylus’ eye had been a mystery but now it seemed so obvious considering what his dragon could do as the Sovereign of the Abyss.

“I believe that Astra might have harvested his aethercore as a means to reclaim power. He was near death when he entered Dawnbreaker’s timeline. Absorbing a force that strong would only help him.” Godeater theorized. Zayne’s face went pale with realization.

“You said that his friend is missing, correct?” he said slowly. Godeater nodded, and fished through his leather bag to pull out a crumpled copy of a missing poster with her name and face. Zayne took it, and his bottom lip knitted through his teeth in thought. Sylus had his jaw set, expression suddenly heavy. “She has an aethercore as well.”

“What is the likelihood of Astra holding her over simply removing her aethercore?” Sylus asked, a glimmer of hope shining through his tone. The Godeater shook his head.

“Unlikely. But if he takes it from her, then perhaps there’s a chance for her to escape like Carrion did or that we might be able to find her. They might find another use for her if it means torturing Dawnbreaker.” Godeater told them. Zayne winced.

“No. Her aethercore is in her heart. In order to take it, he needs to take her heart. If Astra’s already extracted it; she is dead. There is no way to survive something like that.” Zayne explained, a pain in his chest coming to life at the thought of losing her in any lifetime. He tried to make it make sense, but years of being her doctor ravaged his hope. “Are they close in that world?”

“She’s family.” Godeater said, a deep sorrow filling his lungs. “Dawnbreaker basically raised both her and his world’s Caleb.”

A silence filled the room. All of them knew how Dawnbreaker was likely to take that information. All of them knew the amount of devastation he was likely to cause. That is, if he believed it at all. Even at his most rational, Zayne knew that his weakest points were Sylus and his family. He’d nearly ended Sylus’ life years ago when he’d mistakenly thought that he was trying to harm her. He couldn’t imagine what Dawnbreaker would do.

“You don’t seem to have their counterparts in your world, do you?” Sylus asked Godeater. Godeater shook his head.

“I remember growing into adolescence with two other children, but I was taken from them before we reached adulthood. I outlived them by hundreds of years. I can barely remember their faces, but they both look familiar to me when I see other versions of your family.” he admitted.

“Then you do not intimately know the level to which this will destroy Dawnbreaker.” Zayne said sorrowfully.

“The only missing piece I can see is the fact that Astra would have likely made it apparent that she was dead. It furthers all of his ambitions. I don’t understand why he’d make a secret of that.” Godeater said quizzically.

“Perhaps to ensure he doesn’t lose hope before he can take it from him.” Zayne said pensively. It was cruel, barbaric, and such a thing would have surely broken him had it been his family on the line.

“In any case, we need to tell him.” Godeater said, taking a deep breath.

“Your use of “we” is premature, sorcerer.” Zayne objected. “You’ve left me with much to think about.”

“There’s another matter.” Godeater leaned forward, elbows on his knees to gather his thoughts. “Your dream of the mountain, you said that was a lived experience, yes?”

Zayne’s face tightened, and his eyes darted away as he shifted uncomfortably. Sylus turned his head, brows furrowed to study Zayne’s rapid change in behavior. Zayne avoided his eyes too and gave a curt nod.

“I believe that when you proceeded to dream about killing the Alterum, a time that was no doubt one of the worst experiences of your life, you established a connection to Dawnbreaker. One that you might have never seen again had it not been for Astra’s manipulations.” Godeater explained. A nervousness settled in as he saw a spray of blue frost beginning to work its way up Zayne’s neck. “That wasn’t Dawnbreaker witnessing your memories. It was your dream, and yours alone.”

“It wasn’t just an Alterum. It was my best friend.” Zayne snapped, grief exploding into anger to shield his heavy heart. “What are you saying?”

“That you have more power than you know. If Dawnbreaker has a sensitivity to the tears in the veil, so do you. I believe that you pulled him into your dream in that specific instance. Not the other way around.” Godeater was trying to be careful with his words, but none of them seemed correct. There was no way to cushion this blow. Zayne’s green eyes were full of fury.

“No. You’re telling me that I caused this?” Zayne deflected. Godeater shook his head.

“No. I’m telling you that you first saw him years before this incident. You have a connection. You saw each other in this dream. Dawnbreaker has never done that before. You’re one of us, and unless you learn how to master your own mind, there’s only so much that Dawnbreaker can do to stop this.” Godeater said intensely. “Facing him and confronting your fears is not only in the best interest of this reality, but in the interest of you and your family.”

Zayne made to stand up, and Sylus could tell that his anger was about to come to a head. He reached for Zayne’s wrist, grounding him, pulling him back to shore from a stormy sea.

“Zayne.” he said simply, pointedly, catching his eye and giving a subtle shake of his head. It was easier for him to be angry than heartbroken, and Sylus knew that nothing good could come from an outburst. Zayne grit his teeth, and took a breath.

“I need to think about this. I need time.” Zayne said, voice finally giving way to quiet fear and frost wrapping itself up his arms as he considered the weight of Godeater’s words.

“I can give you two weeks.” Godeater said. “I’m sorry. Please think about this. The information you’ve given me has already proven extremely valuable. We can win.”

Zayne swallowed, bringing a hand to the bridge of his nose. He nodded after a moment, slowly, reluctantly.

“Please leave.” he said, this time without the fury he had before. “It would be confusing for Isolde if you were still here when she wakes up.”

Godeater gave a nod of his own in acknowledgement. He stood from his place on the couch, drawing a blue book from his bag. A golden glow filled the room as he found his page in the middle.

“Two weeks.” he reminded them, and disappeared in a warm spray of light.

Zayne felt numb. His body was tired, and his mind raced. He fought against tears as he remembered staring at the Grim Reaper for the first time. His hands tinged with anxiety, and Sylus smoothed his hand back over his fingers to anchor him.

“I can’t help but feel that you’ve left some important information out of this conversation.” Sylus said gently. Zayne shook his head, trying to compose himself.

“There’s no purpose in raising anyone’s hope until I’ve made a decision.” Zayne said quietly. Sylus continued to watch him as he spiraled miserably.

“Is this why you never talk about William? Or the Mountain?” Sylus continued. Zayne felt a tear escape his eyes at the name alone.

“All this time I’ve been running from the Grim Reaper. I used that pain for research, to try to do something good. And now I’ve just been told that I’ve been fleeing from myself.” Zayne said, voice cracking.

“Then perhaps it’s time to face the Reaper.” said Sylus. Zayne swallowed, trying everything to push this thought to the side. He let go of Sylus’ hand to stand. Dawn was breaking, and a light that did nothing to comfort him began to pour through the windows.

“I’m going to go check on Isolde.” Zayne said, walking towards the stairs. Sylus was behind him in an instant, tugging his wrist to pull him into a tight embrace. He felt Zayne shudder underneath him, desperately trying not to fall apart at the seams. He kissed Zayne’s hair, his temple, and finally, tipped his chin to softly kiss his lips.

“No matter what you choose, I’m on your side. Nothing can keep me from loving you through this.” Sylus murmured.

“I know.” Zayne whispered. This time, Sylus let him go, watching with soft eyes as his husband climbed the stairs, body nervous and tense.

The last six months had been hell. He hadn’t been to the clinic nearly enough, and his time spent at home was haunted by his nightmares. He was constantly tired, afraid to sleep and enter another dream of a doomed world that felt desolate and cold. Sylus had noticed, and so had their daughter.

Zayne stood now at the open door of her bedroom, watching her sleeping form as though he was scared to take his eyes off of her. The room was painted a light forest green, golden twinkle lights bringing a warmth to the walls that were painted to include trees and vines. Their nickname for their little girl, “IZZIE,” was spelled out in a comforting block font above her bed.

Zayne had fallen in love in a completely new way the day he looked into her eyes and held her as a baby, and so had Sylus. Both of them had known in the moment that she was theirs and they were hers. She was bright, adventurous, and smart. Newer memories had begun to plant seeds in their heart and grow into an entirely different world for them both. One of playing pretend, of late nights and happy giggles.

And now Zayne was terrified to touch her, to hold her close like he had every day of her life since they’d found her. What if he wasn’t himself? What if his Evol came out of his control? What if he collapsed with her in his arms? The final straw had been when he woke up on the floor, hands covered in blood and Sylus calling his name in fear. He had only seen that look on Sylus’ face a handful of times in the entire time he’d known him, and that fear was contagious.

Izzie had noticed, too. Tearfully begging him to pick her up at all hours of the day, and going into hysterics when he wouldn’t. He’d tried to placate her with cuddles on the couch, more stories and as much quality time as possible, but she only wanted one thing and it was to be held close and safe in his arms. There was nothing more that Zayne wanted to do than to hold his little girl, and every day it broke him a little more.

They’d finally gotten her to sleep in her own bed through the night even though Sylus was notorious for caving in and making room for her little body between them both. Zayne had tried to be the strong one, but it had been so hard when he got to fall asleep next to two of the most important people in his world. This hell of waking nightmare had shattered that experience for them all.

Their most recent hurdle had been potty training, but Isolde had done very well. There were also doctor’s appointments, play dates, and making sure that their little adventurer didn’t walk back into the house with anything alive and crawling in her hands. She’d gotten a sudden fondness for lizards, and had a skill for keeping them hidden until the front door closed behind her. Zayne wondered when her flower-picking phase would take over. All of it was normal. Mundane. Everything he wanted. And it was in danger now.

Zayne’s teeth wore at his lips, and he tasted a tang of blood as he watched his beautiful daughter sleeping and sound. Thoughts of the dreams wormed their way into his brain, and the memory of Mt. Eternal where his best friend had taken his last breath clawed at him. Zayne felt his stomach turn, and he dashed into the master bathroom, sprinting to outrun the nausea before he became violently ill.

Sylus found Zayne on the ground in the bathroom, and quietly set a glass of water down on the floor nearby. He stepped behind Zayne and sat with his back to the wall, pulling his husband in to hold him against his chest. The dam finally broke and Zayne sobbed, hot tears snaking down his face while cold frost ravaged his neck and limbs. Sylus wrapped his arms around Zayne, and struggled to keep his own tears at bay while he let Zayne fall apart, pressing soft kisses into his hair.

They held each other like this, silent except for the sobs that Zayne was trying and failing to keep inside of his chest. Zayne closed his eyes, letting Sylus’ supernaturally fast heart rate bring him back down to a fractured level of calm. He clung tighter, curling himself in on Sylus’ chest to be as close as he possibly could to his warmth, his scent.

“I don’t want to do this, Sylus.” Zayne said hoarsely. The thought of leaving his family, the risk of never coming home, never kissing Sylus again or listening to his daughter laugh cleaving at his heart.

“I know.” Sylus murmured, tracing slow shapes into his back with his fingertips.

“But I think it’s the only way to fix this. I just want to keep her safe.” Zayne's voice sounded broken, sorrowful. Sylus wanted to take this from him, to trade places and take on the nightmares that plagued him. But his actual job would be so much harder, and that was to let him go and make sure that Zayne had a place to come home to.

“We’ll be right here when you return.” Sylus said softly. He pressed another kiss to Zayne’s temple. “Just come back to me.”

Sylus and Zayne stole these last remaining minutes for each other, readying themselves to be brave when their greatest treasure awoke in the room across the hall.

Chapter Text

Sylus lounged on a rooftop underneath a starry sky, propped up against the cushion of his duffle bag. There was a laptop next to him playing a live feed of the security cameras in the building below, and a red progress bar was currently showing an upload that was thirty percent complete. He felt good about his chances for success. Despite their authoritarian intimidation tactics, the Farspace Fleet’s Sector Enforcement security left much to be desired. They might as well have left the front door open.

Sylus turned over the brooch he’d stolen from Zayne in his hand as he waited for the upload to reach completion. The scuff marks and scratches from lack of care and hard won fights gave it character. Sylus supposed that it must have some sort of good luck. After all, Zayne had survived every fight he’d worn it in. It made him miss his original lucky charm; a large gemstone that had been a perfect shade of red.

He smiled fondly, remembering the day he’d taken it. He and several of the others from the Rogue’s Collective had been in the shadows to trail the Colonel of the Farspace Fleet when he’d arrived in the remnants of Linkon for a facility inspection of a new criminal detention center. They eyed him with disdain. Some wanted him dead, others wanted information. Sylus wanted to prove himself.

He’d only been thirteen years old, a fresh-faced recruit for the Collective. Months of training had left him with a bruised ego, the constant taste of blood in his mouth and a thirst-like greed for both riches and approval. Stealing something off of the Colonel was the perfect opportunity to show them all what he was made of.

He’d followed the shiny car that brought the Colonel to the local Sector Enforcement station to meet with the leaders who ran the day to day for the Ground Patrol, and watched carefully. The Colonel even walked like a pompous ass; back straight and uniform pressed as if he was better than all of them.

Sylus had waited for his moment to strike, holding a slightly deflated rubber ball in his hands. Just as the doors of the station opened for the Colonel to walk back to his fancy black car, Sylus tossed the ball to the ground and kicked it as hard as he could to send it flying down the public sidewalk. He took off in a sprint after it as if in chase, and timed his strides to look clumsy and uncoordinated when he crashed headlong into the Colonel, who flinched while Sylus simply crashed to the ground.

“Sorry, mister…” he said, screwing his face up into an embarrassed cringe and gathering himself off of the ground with a babble of apologies. The other soldiers shouted at him, demanding that he watch where he was going, and to get out of their sight before he was arrested.

The Colonel, a stocky man in his thirties at the time, stared at him with an odd expression. Irritation, but with a faint sort of recognition, as if he recognized him from somewhere. It sent a shiver down his spine. He gave one more fake apology and took off after the rubber ball in the distance.

After picking up his distraction, he had ducked behind another building to investigate the object in his hand. The high and mighty Colonel hadn’t even noticed Sylus deft fingers brushing his pocket to fish out whatever was inside. Fool. Sylus’ eyes widened at his treasure. He’d been expecting keys, or a badge. What he found instead was a large red gemstone, perfectly shaped and as big as his palm.

A wicked grin had spread over his face. His first trophy. In the past, stealing had just been for survival, or to make money. This was something just for him. He’d planned to go back to the Collective’s turf in Diyu, showing off his prowess and his shiny new trophy, but something stopped him. This was a victory that felt private, for his eyes only. And so he kept it, always in a pocket when he went on jobs for luck. It felt like it belonged to him. Tethered to him somehow. He was supposed to keep it safe, he felt it in his very bones.

Sylus chuckled at the memory. He couldn’t imagine using such a tactic to pickpocket now. He held Zayne’s silver brooch in his gloved hand, trying to replicate how the jewel had felt in his palm, or how the metal setting he’d commissioned for it brought out the weight of it, but it was no use. When he killed Johnny he’d searched his body for it, and he’d had no luck tracking it down in the streets of the underground. It was simply gone. Sometimes Sylus wished that Johnny was still alive just so he could kill him again.

The laptop next to him made a soft chime, and Sylus looked over to see that the upload was complete. He pocketed the silver brooch and picked up the laptop lazily, scrolling through the changes he’d made to the feeds. The entire back half of the building’s security footage would now play on a five-second loop of a completely empty hallway. As soon as he entered the building, no one would be able to see him on the cameras, so long as he stayed away from the front half of the building. Too easy.

He sat up, stretching his limbs with a yawn and got to his feet to pick the lock of the door that gave access to the roof from inside. He could have just blasted the lock off of the metal door with his Evol and called it a day, but where was the fun in that? He took his time with the tools in his hands, sliding in a tension wrench and giving it a hint of pressure. Carefully, he slid the pick in above it before he gave it light back and forth with precision, closing his eye to picture every pin within the lock sliding into place with soft snaps as they set into place one by one. He turned his wrist softly and felt a satisfying click. Like riding a bike. he thought to himself as he locked his mask into place on his face.

He used his Evol to descend the stairs to avoid unnecessary creaking and landed light on his feet in a dim hallway. He let his eyes adjust to the light, keeping an ear out for any noises as he softly walked through the dark hallway. It felt good to do something that felt normal to him, to flex his skills just because he could. The satisfaction of going into places meant to keep him out, outsmarting the barriers put in place to keep him from the prize was riveting to him.

For Sylus it wasn’t about titles like “King of Thieves” or his reputation as the man who could take anything, it was about seeing how far he could go. There was always the next prize, always a new puzzle to solve, impenetrable locations to break, treasure to be had. Despite his recent activities, he’d never describe himself as an assassin. He had the skills necessary to take on those jobs, but always found them boring, meaningless. Brute strength could only take one so far, but a well-laid plan and cleverness could easily take them the rest of the way. That was the fun. That was the meaning.

He frowned, gently pulling off a small panel on the locking mechanism attached to a door labeled “RECORDS ROOM” with a small screwdriver from his pocket that took entirely too much effort. He had left his knife behind after his confrontation with Zayne, and it would have popped this panel off of the small console so much faster.

Sylus felt a simmer of frustration threaten to grow when he thought of their little meeting. He hadn’t asked Zayne anything truly important about why he’d been looking for him, or why he’d made an enemy out of A.S.T.R.A. He’d backed off at the first sign of a headache, and to top it all off, that was his favorite knife.

Sylus had been tracking the headaches for a while now, and the only common denominator seemed to be his emotional state. Too much anger, grief or whatever it was that he’d felt towards Zayne that night had all produced the strange buzzing sensation and the sharp sensations in his head. Then the headaches would subside, and Sylus would be left feeling nothing at all except for confusion and irritation. Removed from the situation completely as if wiped clean from any prevalent feelings.

His fascination, his obsession with Zayne seemed to be a safe area, so long as he didn’t look too deeply at his own thoughts. I can work with that. Sylus thought to himself. Arms length is still a close position to be in. It was simply another puzzle to solve; why the fascination at all? Why was it that Sylus could watch him, play with him, touch him, but the moment he felt a trickle of something that blurred the line between obsession and a warmth in his chest, it was pulled out of him violently? What was so special about the Reaper?

Sylus rewired the small panel, and a green light sprang to life easily under his fingers, unlocking the door. He sighed. It was fine, they were strangers after all, and a thief never felt anything for the locks he picked. He simply solved the puzzle in front of him.

Sylus stepped into the dark room that housed this substation of the Fleet’s records and he let his eyes adjust again to the shift of the light. He pocketed his screwdriver and pulled out a thin pen light to read the labels on the file cabinets and examine the large information terminal in front of him. He wasn’t sure what he was looking for, but there had to be some breadcrumb to be found. He examined the filing cabinets first, but not much was standing out to him. Detailed dockets of patrols, plans for clean-up screws, staff lists…utterly boring.

Sylus booted up the terminal next, dimming the screen as soon as the monitor jumped to life. It was password-encrypted, and he rifled through one of the side pockets on his tactical pants until he found a labeled data stick. He fluttered his fingers under the lip of the monitor and inserted the device into a port at the bottom to decode the password for him. He opened the data stick to activate a new program, intending to clone the entire database, and dug around the files available to him while he waited. A file folder within the system caught his eye: [FSF_ASTRA_RECRUITMENT_CANDIDATES]

Sylus grinned behind the mask. A step closer for him, and something delicious to offer to the Reaper. He wondered what price Zayne would be willing to pay for such a thing, and an idea for a new game took root in his mind.

He completed his task and booted the monitor down, leaving everything the way it was before he slinked out of the room. He replaced the panel on the machine lock to the records room and made his way back down the hallway towards the stairs that accessed the roof of the building. He could have stayed longer, but it was important to know when to stop. Even the most artful of break-ins had a time limit, and he certainly planned on coming back to rifle through the offices.

Another sign caught Sylus’ attention and he paused. A small plaque that said “AMORY” was emblazoned on the metal door to his left. He smirked. Maybe he had just a few more minutes to spare.

___

Zayne swore under his breath. He’d spent twenty minutes now looking for his pruning shears to clip the dying leaves of his jasmine plant and they were nowhere to be found. He grit his teeth with a wave of irritation. Sylus.

In the few short days since their altercation, Sylus had made sure that Zayne didn’t forget that he was always watching him and that he had some sneaky way of entering his home. On the first day, Zayne had woken up to find a folder of papers on his messy kitchen table; nothing groundbreaking, but documents about guard changes and sanitation days that Zayne typically had to buy from the Merchant’s District. Strangely enough, Sylus had left his knife behind again despite returning to the apartment. Maybe the reminder of him lingering around Zayne’s apartment like an omen appealed to him.

On the second day, a package of chocolate was waiting for him on his night stand when he woke up, and he knew for a fact he hadn’t brought it home. Zayne had ignored the implication that Sylus was watching him sleep in favor of studying the packaging on the milk chocolate bar; it was a much fancier brand than he typically got at the shop down the street, and it tasted fantastic. Before he went to bed that night, he left the last square of it on a small plate near the window sill. Maybe Sylus would want to try it too.

And now on the third day, the plate was empty. The offer to share was accepted, but his damned pruning shears were missing from their typical spot on the window sill. Zayne let out a frustrated groan. It was like living with a poltergeist.

“Can you please pick a personality and be consistent?” he snapped to no one. Maybe Sylus could hear him, how would he know?

It was confusing. Zayne would dream of one Sylus, the affectionate, kind lover who doled out kisses and effortless romance to his other self in loud waves, and then Zayne would wake up to another version entirely; cunning, secretive, and invisible as if he was running some grand experiment and simply waiting for a reaction.

The magnetism had certainly been there, Zayne couldn’t deny that. He’d have to be completely dishonest with himself to not acknowledge the fact that Sylus was unbearably attractive. Everything from his scarlet gaze to the sound of his voice to his muscular physique and sultry mannerisms made his mouth water like a glaze of chocolate on his tongue.

But there was a chaos in this Sylus that was unpredictable, dangerous and wild. The kind he’d seen hints of in both the Fiend and the Conqueror but on full display and allowed to run free in Carrion. The kind of nature that hid his secrets and begged others to ignore the evidence of pain that skulked deep within him. Zayne knew a thing or two about hiding the pain where no one could see it.

Something had pulled heat to his cheeks at the very memory of Sylus’ form pressing into him, looming over him as if he was prone to biting, to devouring. And Zayne was just tired enough to consider letting himself be caught. He shuddered. He began to understand how his other selves had been drawn into the handsome face that hid the wild spirit.

What separated Carrion from the pack was that as opposed to a feeling or a purpose, Carrion’s motivations seemed to come from obsession, experimentation. Playing with Zayne’s limits and his own. Zayne had witnessed a distinct change in Sylus when he’d folded to an apparent pain in his skull that seemed to interrupt thought itself. Just when the conversation had become deeper, more intimate. It was as if his brain was fighting his heart in some way.

What did they do to you? Zayne wondered, his mind wandering back to the vision he’d seen of Sylus afraid and alone, maimed in a room full of strangers. His mind was heavy with the memory of Sylus’ horror in that moment as he checked the tracking screen, and he was brought back to the present at the sight of at least ten red dots in his radius.

Zayne cursed again and dressed to go out; same black suit, spotted tie, worn but polished dress shoes. Something was churning out Alterum at a faster rate. He’d always assumed that at some point, the population would simply dwindle and die out, but when you were fighting alone, it was more difficult to visualize exactly how many people truly existed around him that he never saw until they were dying while he wandered through the broken city by himself.

He refocused, grabbing a handful of brightly-wrapped chocolates from the jar on the table to shove into his coat pocket as he headed for the door to go on a hunt. He barely registered the sound of the dingy fluorescent lights through his thoughts that Sylus seemed to occupy as he took the elevator down. He crossed the broken lobby and took a breath to center himself when he stepped outside to greet the frigid air that kissed his warm cheeks in a spike of wind.

With the amount of Alterum roaming around tonight, he’d needed to bring his phone with him to check the trackers that fed off of the energy readers that the Fleet had erected years ago. Instead of simply deactivating the cameras above him, Zayne fired pointed icy blasts at them from a longer range to destroy them. He fully expected another visit from Caleb about the destruction of property, but he needed the maps tonight, and he couldn’t risk destroying it outright with the imposing aura of ice he would normally use. He was good at pretending not to be home, and Caleb would live.

Zayne checked his phone for the map, tracking a red dot a few blocks away. He broke into a run, hurling spears of ice at any camera he saw indiscriminately. It slowed him down, but he considered this a test of endurance; the last thing he needed was surviving footage of him killing in public, and not every lost soul could be culled in under the cover of an alleyway no matter how much he wished for the cover.

He caught up to the Alterum shambling in the middle of the street. This one had lost nearly every human feature and was incredibly close to reaching pure wanderer status judging by the pattern of crystals that reaved through human tissue in grotesque patterns on nearly every inch of the body that had once been human. The sounds of his footsteps appeared to be enough for it to hear Zayne as he approached on foot and it turned to hiss at him, the crystalline shriek that resembled glass rubbing against glass rippling sickeningly through the air.

Zayne summoned a black spike of ice to his hand to ram through the crystals in its chest when he heard a muted trill of a shot being fired. The Alterum stumbled, assuming the blow was from Zayne and shrieked in opposition before raising hooked claws to rush him. Zayne had little time to do more than attack when another bullet pitted itself deep into its core. It collapsed onto the asphalt to dissolve in a dirty blue haze like dust being blown off of a relic into the night sky. Zayne already knew who was responsible, and looked around at rooftops and dark corners, lost for a visual of his smug protector.

Zayne’s eye was drawn to a red dot at his feet, a laser-sight used to line up the shot from a sniper rifle. His eyes followed as it trailed towards an alleyway. Zayne knew how foolish it was. He acknowledged that this was pure abandonment of self preservation, and he followed the laser-red dot as it trailed into the darkness of a dank-smelling alley between two dilapidated buildings. Zayne fought himself. He had things to do, and the potential calamity that could be caused by multiple Alterum was gnawing at his mind. And yet he went.

Maybe he’d be kissed by a bullet to the temple, maybe there’d be a new Alterum waiting for him here now. He looked around, checking his surroundings and then focusing back on the red light to see that it had panned to the wall to his right. Zayne had disregarded the bright spray paint when he’d walked past it the first time, but scanned the words now, staining the deteriorating brick wall in bright red.

FOR YOU it said, with an arrow drawn to a distinct point close to the ground. Zayne didn’t bother to continue looking around him; if Sylus wanted to be seen, he’d be here now. He simply followed the painted arrow with his eyes and saw something taped to the wall with black electrical tape, sticky enough to stay in place, but delicate enough to pull it away easily to see what it was.

Zayne stared at the small earpiece in his hand. It felt like a confirmation of sorts. If he used it, he would hear temptation personified whispering to him in that voice that reminded him of velvet and the soft plush of ashes. If he walked away now, what would happen? Would Sylus go away? Would he try again? Zayne swallowed, and found that he didn’t care to know. He raised a hand and tucked the earbud into his right ear, closing his eyes tight and feeling weak for giving in to the experience. He’d allowed Sylus to lead him by the nose and now he was willingly giving him a gateway to communicate with him.

He heard the signature chuckle of Sylus’ velvet voice first, granulated through the distance of signal communication, but present nonetheless.

“Are you up for a game, Reaper?” Sylus crooned from a building away, the scope of his rifle perfectly focused to capture the way Zayne’s narrow lips fell open in beautiful curiosity.

Chapter Text

“I like that face you’re making, Reaper.” Sylus purred over the earpiece. Zayne tensed, a prickle running across the back of his neck. The red glow of a laser was gone, leaving Zayne in the unseen stare of Sylus’ crosshairs with the hint of a chuckle whispering through the earpiece.

“You stole my shears.” Zayne said, irritated. It was such a petty thing to take, but it was just one of the many ways Sylus had been pushing his buttons.

“You were over pruning that plant.” Sylus said matter of factly. “You turn into a maniac every time you see so much as a bent leaf. Someone had to stop you; you’ll kill it at that rate.”

Zayne hissed out a tch through his teeth, narrowing his eyes. Who did Sylus think he was?

“Are you a florist in your spare time?” Zayne mocked, more harsh than he meant to. Thoughts of the one who gave him the jasmine in the first place surfaced, and he couldn’t help but feel particularly incensed when Sylus was calling his ability to take care of it into question. He could hear the smirk playing in Sylus’ voice and it only worsened his mood.

“How do you expect something to bloom if you won’t give it a chance to recover and grow on its own?”

Zayne swallowed, and the prickle that tingled at his neck trickled down his shoulders like a chill. He set his jaw tightly, determined to keep a straight face, trying to hold on to the fabricated anger he’d created to protect himself.

From the roof of a tall building, Sylus adjusted his sitting position, keeping his scope trained on Zayne to catch the annoyed look on his face. Even when he was aggravated and his features went sharp, he was stunning. Sylus watched the tension of his lips with a hungry look in his eye. Every part of Zayne was perfect; the jet black of his hair that flared out at the long ends, the sea-glass tone of his eyes, the slight bump on the bridge of his strong nose, the sharp curve of his jaw. Sylus’ grin was wolfish and sharp.

“What do you want?” Zayne said tersely, changing the subject.

“It looks like you have a busy night ahead, Reaper. Quite a few Alterum on this map of yours. Do you intend to handle them by yourself?” Sylus’ velvet voice crooned in Zayne’s ear like a devil on his shoulder.

Zayne rolled his eyes. Do you see anyone else here? he thought spitefully. Zayne found himself unsurprised to learn that Sylus had access to his tracking map. He wasn’t sure when he’d gotten his hands on it, but he supposed it didn’t matter; there had certainly been enough opportunities.

What bothered him more was how little it disturbed him to know that Sylus had been rifling through his things, watching him like a predator, studying him like a specimen, but never going in for the kill. They were both desperate for something, but neither of them knew what for. And so they fluttered around each other like moths trying to embrace the harshest lights, but both were uncertain about what they were trying to achieve. All they could do was pursue the light in front of them, even if they were lost in it.

“Touching more things that don’t belong to you, you’re living up to your title.” Zayne said dryly. “If you must know, I have a system.”

“I bet my system is better.” Sylus challenged him. “Do you think you can take down more than I can before dawn?”

“This isn’t a joke.” Zayne argued with him, scowling. “People are dying. They’re suffering, afraid.”

“And they’ll continue to be afraid regardless of whether or not you choose to torture yourself about it.” Sylus bit back. “I don’t know what you do to distance yourself from the screams, but how is that working for you? Does it make the nightmares any better?”

Zayne’s shoulders tensed. He felt more exposed now, as if Sylus could see through his dark clothes and into his mind. It felt wrong, disrespectful to have any sort of levity around the killings. It felt wrong to give himself any kind of grace or reprieve from the horror he saw night after night.

Sylus had a point; the Alterum had to die no matter how he felt about it. Zayne’s guilt did nothing to lighten the blow or improve the situation, the guilt was simply what he he’d decided he’d deserved long ago. He glanced at the map on his phone, watching the red dots crawl around on the screen spanning several blocks. Sylus was offering his help, even if it was for his own twisted motives. Was it really okay to allow him in like this?

“Fine.” Zayne said stoically. Sylus was saving him hours of work and risk of injury. It was just a transaction, nothing more. “If it’ll get you to shut your mouth.”

A scoff came through over the earpiece.

“That’s a boring prize, Reaper. How about…if you win, I’ll tell you what A.S.T.R.A. stands for?” he said slyly. Sylus grinned at the sight of Zayne stiffening, his eyes snapping forward and darting around as if finally allowing himself to look for Sylus.

“And what about you?” Zayne asked, peeking out from the alley and into the street. “I doubt there’s anything I have that would be comparable in value.”

“You’ll see.” Sylus teased, following Zayne through the crosshairs. He heard another frustrated groan from Zayne, and never tired of bringing that particular sound out of his chest.

“How do I know you actually have that information? You could be lying.” Zayne said.

“I’ve already told you once; games are no fun alone. And I’m not done playing with you just yet, Reaper.” Sylus replied with an easy tone. “The rules are set. Better be quick, because I’m just getting started. Go.”

Zayne felt a sizzle of energy run through his cheeks as he broke into a run, chasing the next red dot on the map. He looked down at his phone while he ran, and swore when he saw one red signal disappear a few blocks from his location. His pride flared and he grit his teeth. Sylus may have been skilled but his ego made Zayne want to knock him off of his tower and put him in his place. You’re in my world now, Carrion.

Zayne already had a pike of black ice in his hands when he ran into his target, a hulking mess of blood and blue crystals that wore the tattered remnants of a Fleet uniform. Zayne didn’t hesitate, burying the stake in its core. He didn’t stick around to witness the flurry of metaflux before running to his next target. Sylus was trying to challenge him on what he did best? Fine, Zayne wouldn’t hesitate to make sure his ego took a long fall.

Sylus moved from rooftop to rooftop, following the enemies tracked on the map and taking them down with precise shots from his rifle. He found that the laser-sight didn’t help much in these fights; the crystals that consumed the Alterum refracted the light in a way that made it impossible to see where he was aiming. Luckily, he’d fallen into a rhythm of search, shoot, destroy somewhat quickly. He’d opted to go farther away from where Zayne’s starting point was, and picked a cluster of them that took longer to get to but were clustered closer together.

His eyes flicked to the map, and saw another dot disappear. Only one left, and this would be the tiebreaker. Sylus gripped his rifle and disappeared.

Zayne baited the Alterum in front of him, letting it corner him in an alleyway to come closer as Zayne built up a flurry of black ice, and summoned several spike in the air to slam it against the wall beside him and pin it in place. His breaths were heavy, and sweat beaded his face from running. He summoned a thick spike and approached the wall.

Just before he could force the sharp point between the blocky crystals to reach what was left of a human heart, two quick shots, muffled by a silencer, found home in the Alterum’s chest. Zayne flinched at the sudden movement, but felt irritation quickly take the place of being startled. He heard a chuckle in his earpiece, smooth as chocolate.

“Too slow, Reaper.” Sylus tutted. Zayne rolled his eyes and felt a heavy presence materialize behind him. He took out his earpiece and tucked it into his pocket, and turned to face Sylus, grinning at him without the barrier of a mask on his face. “Five versus four kills. So close...”
“Just tell me what you know about A.S.T.R.A.” Zayne said, narrowing his eyes. Sylus clicked his tongue against his teeth and shook his head.

“No need to be a sore loser. You’ll just have to wait.” Sylus teased him. He stepped closer to Zayne, too close. Zayne swallowed, but refused to back down and met Sylus’ gaze head on.

“Fine. Tell me what it is you want, then.” he demanded. Sylus was in his space, close enough that Zayne could see the red mark across the bridge of his nose and across the tops of his cheeks where his mask had been. Close enough to feel each other’s body heat. Zayne felt the texture of rich leather smooth up his neck as Sylus held his face and thumbed over his cheek.

“Help me test a theory.” Sylus purred, and swallowed whatever words Zayne would have said next as he sealed their lips together in a hungry kiss.

This was not a lover’s kiss. It was pure searing sensation and forceful movement. At first, Zayne pulled away out of reflex alone, and found himself backing into the stone of the wall behind him. Sylus chased his lips, stepping even closer and grabbing his chin to consume him again. Long gloved fingers found their way to Zayne’s wrist, pinning him in place to the cold stone while Sylus pried his mouth open with the heat of his tongue.

Zayne’s resolve snapped like the last frayed threads of a rope, and found himself relaxing into the feeling of being truly and properly kissed. Thoughts of what he did and didn't deserve faded away like a burst of metaflux. He reached to twist his fingers into Sylus’ silver hair, lost in the feeling of their tongues sliding together. Something in his mind urged him forward, and heat pooled in his abdomen. He was blissfully unable to think, only to feel. Their chests lined up flush together and Zayne tugged on Sylus’ hair as if ordering him to come closer despite the lack of space in between them. Sylus smelled of gunpowder and something dusky and forbidden and it was only deepening his sudden madness.

Zayne felt alive, like something inside of him had been coaxed awake after a very long sleep. Something he’d allowed to wilt in a place with no sun for a very long time. Desire. Deep, hot, primal. Zayne didn’t know the first thing about this man, but it didn’t matter. Not when he was sighing into him so sweetly and ravaging him so thoroughly. Not when his teeth grazed his lips and his tongue felt like heaven.

Sylus let out a low moan at the taste of chocolate on Zayne’s lips. He kept his thoughts centered on the sensations, the heat, the sounds, distancing his mind from the person currently unraveling underneath him. He smiled into the kiss; no headache, nothing to make him stop. As long as it meant nothing, as long as he focused on the heat of their bodies or desperate gasps, he was safe. He could touch him, feel his breaths stuttering out of his chest, kiss him without consequences.

A warmth bubbled in his chest when Zayne’s fingers moved to cup his cheek and Sylus squeezed his eyes shut to block the feeling out. He wouldn’t allow anything to take this moment from him, not even some hidden emotion about how nice it felt to be touched. It’s only a kiss, it’s only an experiment. He’s a stranger. Sylus thought, lowering his hand from Zayne’s wrist to slide inside of the heavy coat and run his hand over Zayne’s waist. This is all you get. Don’t be greedy. he warned himself.

Sylus gave Zayne’s bottom lip a final nip with his teeth, and gently pulled away with a satisfied smirk. Zayne’s cheeks were a flushed pink, and his eyes were glassy. Hey both stood there for a moment, locking eyes while the sound of their heated breaths mixed in an otherwise silent moment in the dead of night.

“Did your theory pan out?” Zayne asked thickly, still recovering from the daze. Sylus ran his thumb over Zayne’s bitten lips.

“Flawlessly.” he murmured. “You should show that side of yourself more often, Reaper. Being wound so tight is pleasing no one, least of all yourself. Let your desire show off every now and again, it suits you.”

“Any other words of wisdom, since you seem to know so much?” Zayne deadpanned sarcastically.

“Yes. You might have beaten me if you didn’t dress like a funeral director, how on earth can you move in a suit like that?” Sylus said, eyebrow raised. Zayne scoffed.

“Forget I asked.”

“In any case, a kiss like that deserves a consolation prize.” Sylus said with a sharp grin. Zayne felt the flutter of fingers in his coat pocket, slipping something small inside. “Same time tomorrow?”

“Do what you like.” Zayne said, doing his best to be stoic and unmovable, but failing to hide the way he was looking at Sylus’ lips before he dragged his gaze back to Sylus’ scarlet eye, shining with mischief.

Sylus took a step back, teasing him with a wink before he disappeared in a haze of red-black mist. Zayne leaned back into the wall he’d just been pressed against with a foggy mind and a tingling on his lips where Sylus had touched him. He closed his eyes briefly, trying to gather just a few more moments before logic re-entered the situation.

___

Chapter Text

Zayne frowned as his eyes caught movement in the window next to the large holographic monitor in his bedroom. Two beady red eyes stared at him in curiosity from outside of the glass pane. While it might have fooled Zayne from a distance or in the dark, the crow that was perched on his window sill in broad daylight was anything but ordinary. A metal plate covered the cap of the bird’s head, and his beak looked less glossy and more of a matte finish with abrasive scratches towards the tip as if it had been painted and then scuffed. Sleek metal panels and subtle red touches lined its body, particularly around the wing area.

Whether it was a modified living bird or a complete machine, Zayne wasn’t sure, but he was certain of who was responsible for it. Zayne leaned over to draw the cheap blinds over the window. He tried to go back to his work on the tracking map, but he still felt those glimmering red eyes staring at him, bobbing its small head around to try to see him through the spaces in the aluminum.

Zayne let out an irritated groan and pulled the blinds back up again, staring the crow down with a glare.

“Give it a rest, Sylus.” he said tersely, and spread a palm across the glass, engaging his Evol to spread a healthy layer of black frost across the glass, careful to go slow so as not to expose the pane to unnecessary thermal strain. He stood back to survey his work, satisfied with the opacity of the black-tinted ice that blocked out prying eyes.

Godeater was due back soon, it had been nearly a month. Zayne wondered if he’d gotten anywhere with the Doctor, or how he was spending his time in his own world. Without his other self, there wasn’t anyone to speak to about the developments in his dreams or what to make of his disorienting encounters with Sylus.

Zayne went back to the monitor, pulling out the stylus from its compartment on the side panel of the screen to mark key locations and dates he’d gotten from his nightmares. Ever since the first time Sylus had kissed him, the dreams of the Doctor stopped almost completely. Now they defaulted to what the Godeater would call "prophetic dreams” about the Alterum, with one exception.

On those less frequent occasions, he’d felt the same uncanny feeling of being pulled and trapped in a dream about the Mountain. Mt. Eternal. It was the same every single time; Zayne would find himself at the opening of a cave on the side of the mountain, staring on as the Doctor stared back with the same terrified expression on his face, covered in blood while metaflux dispersed around him. As daunting as his dreams had been, they were far from Zayne’s biggest distraction.

It had been unlike anything Zayne had felt before. The aggressive, ravenous kiss. The feeling of heat in his body, the quiet bliss of all his thoughts shutting off, the firm grip of fingers at his waist. It hadn’t been his first kiss, but it had been the first one that had taken his breath from his lungs. He’d gone home that night, mind scrambling to make sense of it all.

At the end of their first encounter, Sylus had told him: ”You could have shut this down at any time.” Zayne knew that he was right. He wasn’t just a victim of circumstance or a mouse caught in a trap, he’d allowed Sylus to circle him. He’d ignored or explained away the early signs of being watched, he’d let Sylus tease with the edge of a knife, he’d let himself be cornered in an alleyway in the middle of the night. And he’d kissed Sylus back.

And then he’d done it again the next night. And the night after that. Sometimes there wasn’t even a hunt to be had. Sometimes Zayne would just walk through the streets and backroads in the dead of night in a silent invitation for Sylus to descend and shove him into a dark corner to kiss him in the shadows. Always coy, always detached. No words, none of the messy complications like fate or alternate realities, no trust or emotional connection. Just two lost souls living inside of a moment of release.

Do you keep giving in because it feels good, or because you believe it is what you’re supposed to do? he asked himself over and over again. So many months of seeing what love looked like between a sorcerer and his dragon, or a doctor and his conqueror, maybe it was selfish to just pretend for a moment that he could have that for himself. That there was something out there just for him.

The Godeater had told him once that fate alone wasn’t a force to be relied on. It could change, it could be twisted and broken. It could be chosen. Zayne avoided dangerous thoughts of fate, and of love. Love wasn’t something that came to someone living in a wasteland. Love couldn’t find a man who’d spent the majority of his life killing. In this world, death could come knocking at any moment. It was best to take what you could and learn to be satisfied. Sometimes apathy was simply a means of survival.

If this was all there was for him, rushed touches and heated breaths with someone he barely knew, he’d take it. He wouldn’t ask for more. He would tuck away his desire to know more about the man behind the mask, and he’d hide the way his heart rate picked up when he knew he was being watched or when Sylus would leave something behind just to tell Zayne he’d been there.

It didn’t stop the thoughts from coming to him. The curiosity about why Sylus seemed so alone, or why he had a fondness for flowers. There was an edge of sadness they seemed to share, unspoken between them like they’d both been cheated out of something better. As fine as they both pretended to be with their cold and distant unspoken arrangement, Zayne found himself hungering to look deeper beneath the surface of Sylus’ mask. Fate or no fate, those thoughts were getting harder to ignore.

There was a part of Zayne that didn’t want to tell anyone. He wanted to keep it a secret before anyone could tell him what he was supposed to be feeling. He didn’t want to explain himself to anyone who would never understand why someone would cling to the reality of sensation over the fairytale of love. This was the world he lived in. Take what you can get, expect nothing more.

With his family gone, there was no one to worry about anymore; no one he had to look after or take care of. No one to tell him ‘no.’ Responsibility still clung to him like a vise, just as it always had, but Zayne was so tired, and Sylus’ touch was quickly turning into his favorite relief.

A cracking, hissing sound from the living room followed by the sound of feet hitting the ground startled him. Zayne dropped his stylus as his shoulders hunched and he flinched deeply, black frost fanning out on his neck in reflex. He let out a frustrated groan and dragged himself to the doorway of the bedroom with aggravation.

“I told you to give it a rest, you’re so–” Zayne froze midsentence. Standing in front of him now wasn’t Sylus coming to tease him, but himself.

The Doctor eyed him with a cold, neutral expression. Green eyes studying him, accounting for their differences. Zayne had been an unwitting passenger in his memories for months, and had even been in his body before, but he still wasn’t prepared for the eerie feeling he got staring at him face to face. He was dressed in a black button-up shirt, the top button undone to expose a faint burn scar around the base of his neck. He wore glasses, and adjusted them on the bridge of his nose, clearing his throat awkwardly.

“Dawnbreaker.” the Doctor said with a voice devoid of emotion. A simple acknowledgement. Next to him was a large black suitcase on wheels that told Zayne he’d be staying for a while.

Zayne was distracted from his trance by the sight of the Godeater closing a blue book and collapsing onto the couch in exhaustion. He was dressed as if he was coming from his own world; a loose-fitting linen shirt that had fallen open slightly at the chest to expose blue spidery markings in his skin, fitted leather breeches that had a slight armored padding and his signature boots and leather gloves. He looked exhausted, skin pale and clammy with bags under his eyes.

“Are you alright?” Zayne asked him, walking past the Doctor to fetch him a bottle of water from the refrigerator. Godeater’s eyes were closed and he nodded weakly.

“I need rest. Multiple trips like that are hard on the body.” Godeater said thickly.

“Is your Sylus coming too?” Zayne asked the Doctor, crossing the kitchen again. The Doctor followed him with his eyes.

“No. He is staying behind with our daughter.”

Zayne dropped the bottle in his hands. His face paled, and black ice crawled up his arms from his wrists.

“Daughter.” he said with a horrified voice. The Doctor crossed the room, picking up the plastic bottle from the ground to pass to the Godeater.

“That’s right.” the Doctor said, his voice terse, almost angry. “I’m surprised you never saw her.”

“No…I didn’t.” Zayne swallowed thickly. It had always been Sylus, sometimes the Doctor’s family. The people who had gone away and the one his soul was searching to find. Even in his encounters with the Doctor’s world, he hadn’t seen evidence of a child, but he’d always been lost in panic before. He understood why Sylus hadn’t let him leave the room the first time it had happened. A sick wave of nausea came over him, thinking about what he could have done in his panic and how horrible it must have been for the Doctor and his family.

“She’s safe.” The Doctor said, reading his expression. “The only one you hurt was me.”

The Doctor held up his left hand, showing Zayne the faint scratches that had once been cuts from a mishandled knife on the pads of his fingers. Zayne cringed at the sight.

“I’m sorry.” he said, shoulders hunching and insides curling. The Doctor gave him a curt nod of acknowledgement, turning his attention back to the Godeater, who looked half asleep in between shallow breaths. “The apartment next door is unlocked. You can stay there.”

The Doctor opened his mouth to thank him when his eyes landed on a hole in the wall, perfectly round and splintered from Zayne’s Evol. He seemed to recognize the source of the damage immediately. Uncomfortably, he looked back at Zayne.

“Could I trouble you for a room across the hall?” he asked. Zayne knew that he didn’t mean it as an insult. There was no judgment in his voice, but the implication still stung. Embarrassed, Zayne looked away from his uneasy gaze.

“Of course. I’ll have the power turned on for you before tomorrow.” Zayne said quietly. The Doctor approached the Godeater, who was trying to stand up from the couch, and wobbled. The Doctor slung Godeater’s arm over his shoulder to help him walk towards the door, and Zayne reached out to help him with his suitcase.

“I’ve got it.” The Doctor said, tension bubbling in his voice. Zayne took a step back, and made himself useful by opening the front door for them. The Doctor didn’t look at him, only thanked him with a polite nod as he helped the Godeater across the hall to his own apartment.

Zayne closed the door behind them, and sighed, bringing a hand to the bridge of his nose to try to squeeze the tension away with his fingers.

___

“Well, something’s got you all worked up.” Sylus teased, watching Zayne deliver a brutal finishing blow to an Alterum behind an abandoned auto shop. Zayne glanced up at him as he sauntered over. Zayne said nothing, letting his aggravated expression speak for him. Sylus toyed with the lapel of his shirt and Zayne batted his hand away.

“Not tonight.” he snipped, but the blush to the tips of his ears betrayed him.

For a moment, something heated, dangerous flashed in Sylus’ eye, and his plush lips pulled into a frown. He was so close to coaxing the Reaper into bed, he could feel it. Sylus’ expression went back to neutral and he shrugged, offering Zayne a smirk instead.

“Trouble with your brother, or could it be the new neighbor that’s put you in such a mood?” Sylus mused. Zayne scoffed, shaking his head.

“It’s impressive how you can see so much and yet so little.” Zayne shot back.

He did not want to talk about the tension at home. It had been days, and Godeater was still asleep from his journey. Without the buffer of his presence, Zayne and the Doctor were at a loss for what to say to each other. They avoided each other’s eyes in the hall, and the Doctor had busied himself with cleaning out the apartment next to the Godeater’s. An unspoken agreement to avoid each other until Godeater awoke.

The icy apprehension in the air was stressful. He couldn’t blame the Doctor for disliking him after everything he’d done to plague his dreams, but it was irritating. It wasn’t as if Zayne had done anything on purpose. They were meant to work together, and the dreams were more controlled now. He’d hoped that would help the Doctor’s cagey attitude, but so far there had been no change.

“Well maybe I could see more if you’d stop blacking out your windows.” Sylus said slyly. “You’ve made Mephisto sad.”

“If I see that bird again, I’m freezing him out of the sky.” Zayne said tersely. As impressed as he was with the feat of engineering, Sylus’ boastful attitude only begged Zayne to put him in his place. Sylus chuckled. Wouldn’t be the first time.

“You’re letting that tension back in, Reaper. I can help with that.” Sylus’ smile was wolfish, predatory.

Zayne swallowed, looking away from his gaze a little too quickly. He turned to walk away, and felt fingers gripping his bicep to stop him. He glared back at Sylus, who simply pointed at the ground in front of his feet. A dandelion, bright and yellow against the backdrop of the filthy pavement and the crack it grew from was in his path. He’d nearly stepped on it. Sylus looked at Zayne’s lips when he spoke.

“Watch your step.” he purred.

“I’m heading home. Find something else to do.” Zayne shook off his touch. He wasn’t in the mood for games tonight.

Another velvet chuckle filled the air as he walked away. A dying street lamp caught a quick glimmer of frost at Zayne’s neck. Sylus had been watching him long enough to know that when the tension mounted in Zayne, the dam was going to break in one way or another. All he had to do was wait.

Zayne awoke the next afternoon with a groggy mind. He sat up in bed, letting his shoulders hunch forward. He’d had a nightmare last night; one of being too sedated to move, too sluggish to fight when people crowded over him to draw his blood and test his vitals inside of a locked cell. With no vision on the right side, he knew that he’d been dreaming of Sylus again. He’d been trapped, no way to escape. Zayne had felt his fear, his anger, his hopelessness. An unfamiliar ache began in his heart.

He made himself get up. He needed to tell Godeater about Sylus, figure out the best way forward. Running from the reality around them had been such sweet distraction, but he needed to focus. He needed to figure out what happened to Sylus; he deserved to know what they’d done to him. He opened his front door to check on the Godeater and found the Doctor turning to walk away from the closed door. Two sets of green eyes flickered away from each other.

“It appears as though he’s still asleep.” the Doctor said, devoid of feeling.

“You’re going to have to speak to me eventually.” Zayne said as the Doctor continued down the hall. “I understand why you’d hesitate but the dreams are getting better, are they not?”

“That’s not it.” the Doctor said dismissively. Zayne stepped out of his apartment to follow him.

“Then what?” he demanded. The Doctor turned to face him, mouth pulled into a small frown.

“I believe this conversation would be better had when the sorcerer wakes up.” the Doctor said firmly, but Zayne wouldn’t back down, a flicker of irritation coursing through him. He didn’t like the way this version of him was staring, as if Zayne was a dangerous animal.

“No. If you’re not avoiding me out of hatred, then it’s because you’re hiding something. Tell me.” Zayne said through gritted teeth.

They glared at each other for a long, tense moment. Two identical faces, and two entirely different people. The Doctor, with his white pressed shirt and vest, neck secure in a silk tie, hair perfectly cut and glasses pristine on his face. Dawnbreaker, scruffy hair messy from sleep, wrinkled tshirt and lounge pants, body jewelry twinkling at his ears. One of them was a product of love, the other of loss. Opposite sides of the coin, yet unable to deny that there was a connection of some sort.

The Doctor sighed, giving in. Maybe he knew himself well enough to know that Zayne wasn’t going to let this go. There was a heaviness to his face, something like guilt flared behind his neutral mask.

“We think we know what happened to your friend.” said the Doctor quietly. Zayne’s eyes went wide and his posture straightened in surprise. The Doctor looked nervous to continue, and folded his arms in front of his chest. “Sylus had an aethercore in his right eye. If the Fleet took it, it’s possible that they took her too to gain access to hers.”

Zayne’s lips parted, shock colored his expression. That was the missing piece; Sylus’ aethercore. His hands shook. They had to come up with a plan. He’d never been closer to finding her and the thought was overwhelming.

“Do you know why they’re trying to find aethercores in the first place?” he asked, mouth suddenly dry. The Doctor motioned to the Godeater’s door with his chin.

“His theory was that Astra is trying to rebuild his power. I won’t hazard a guess about how that works.” he said matter of factly.

“Why didn’t you tell me sooner? We could have been discussing finding her this entire time. I need to know more.” Zayne said, face tense. The Doctor’s mask was crumbling, and his eye contact broke. Zayne paused, trying to read his face. Another flutter of anger brushed against his chest. “You think she’s dead.”

“You know what they have to do to access her aethercore.” The Doctor said quietly. Black frost began to gather at Zayne’s neck, and his heart stalled in his chest. “I know how strong she is, but she couldn’t possibly survive that. He said that she’s been gone for months.”

“No.” Zayne growled. “If they’ve taken her aethercore, Astra would have made some sort of move. He’d be looking for me, or for the Godeater. You have no proof that she’s dead.”

“Look around you, Dawnbreaker. Is this world not proof enough of his wrath?” the Doctor argued, voice sharp.

“You don’t know what you’re talking about.” Zayne seethed. Black ice crystals climbed in fractured designs up his hands, his forearms. At his feet, dark jagged shards rose from the ground. The Doctor took a step back, watching the ice grow. “I know she’s a part of your family in your own reality. If this was her, you wouldn’t hesitate for a moment. Do not expect me to give up on my own family.”

“The facts are significantly different in this reality. I’m sorry.” said the Doctor, and he truly did look sorry. Zayne scoffed. His rage was building. He couldn’t believe his willingness to give up, to not know. Zayne used his anger as a shield, burying the implication deep inside of him. If the Doctor was right, if his reasonable suspicion was true…

Ice flew. The Doctor summoned a sheet of blue-tinted ice in front of him to guard against Zayne’s unwitting attack. Zayne tensed, trying to beat back the crushing weight of his thoughts. He glanced back at the Doctor, and froze when he saw the long spear of ice in his right hand. He continued to back away, a look of grave concern on his face. Both of them knew it had been an accident, that Zayne hadn’t meant it. But that didn’t negate the risk.

Zayne swallowed, trying not to spiral. His Evol was getting out of control. He was overwhelmed, angry, terrified. It was just like the day he’d lost her. No matter how hard he tried, the only thing he created was damage. His hands were only strong enough to break, not to help. He watched the Doctor open the door behind him, shield raised, and duck inside. Guilt flooded Zayne, washing through every cell like dead weight.

Zayne trudged back to his own apartment, jagged ice tracing his steps as he walked. He fumbled open the door with cold hands, and ice flew again. Shards shunted into his walls, his furniture. The frost nearly covered his arms, and jagged spikes flooded the floor around his feet. It hurt. The pain of the ice and the pain in his chest; what was he supposed to tell Caleb? How could he possibly move on?

The worst part was that every single piece of him still believed she was alive, somehow locked away but still breathing within some Fleet facility. Dead or alive, it was still his fault. He’d harmed her. He’d allowed her to be taken, he’d failed to find her. No matter what the outcome was, this was his fault. His stomach rolled, his head surged with a headache. His heavy breaths came out in fog from the ice around him , and hot tears tracked patterns through the fractals that spiraled on his cheeks.

A scream welled up in his throat, and he let it tear out of him, shredding at his throat, scratching at his chest. Glass shattered behind him and items clattered to the ground around him. He coughed, letting the sobs flow free now that his rampage was dying down. He turned to survey the wreckage of his apartment; his television was cracked and broken on the ground, his couch was shredded. New holes decorated the walls, and his window was completely destroyed.

Reason came back to him when he saw the jasmine plant, laying on the floor surrounded by dirt and the shattered pot around it. He scrambled over to it, dropping to his knees to keep the clay shards from crushing the petals. The tears wouldn’t stop. The Doctor had been right to fear his Evol. He’d been right to be wary, to approach him with distrust. Zayne felt fractured. He didn’t want to do this anymore. He wanted to go back in time, back to a place where he and his family could just be together, healthy and alive.

He forced himself to his feet, wincing when he stepped on a shard of shattered clay. He didn’t bother to clean the smear of blood from the bottom of his foot off of the floor as he pulled out a metal bowl from one of his cabinets, one that she used to use for baking when they had the ingredients. He dragged himself back to the jasmine, scooping up as much of the dirt as he could with his hands to give the flower a chance to live until he could find a new pot for it.

He set the bowl on his kitchen counter, and vaguely wondered what Sylus would do with all his finesse for flowers. He choked back another wave of grief as he went into his bathroom to scrub the dirt off of his hands and treat the cut on his foot. He was tired, bones dragging as if they’d been filled with cement. He flopped onto the bed. He didn’t want to sleep for the fear of nightmares, but wasn’t this place simply a nightmare of its own?

__

The dreams were scattered, images of blood and gore that Zayne couldn’t piece together or hold onto. Dreams of Alterum crystals mixed with flashes of a sterile cell. Nothing linear, nothing discernable. Zayne woke from fitful sleep to see that the sun had gone down. He had no desire to move, but his mouth was dry and his throat was scratchy. He sighed heavily, pulling himself to his feet and cringing when he saw the state of his apartment.

He walked carefully across the floor to the kitchen, and cold air blew through the glass-less open window as he passed. He stiffened for a moment, noticing that the bowl he’d placed the jasmine in was gone. He whipped around in a moment of panic and his eyes came to rest on his kitchen table. Among the scattered papers and splinters of wood was his jasmine, transplanted in a pot of black painted clay. Zayne abandoned his water glass and approached it, reaching out to touch the hard surface. His pulse quickened and a feeling of warmth spread in his chest. Sylus had been there. He’d even watered the flower. A fresh wave of emotion swept over him.

With a renewed energy, Zayne went to his front door, pausing briefly to slide his feet into a pair of worn out sneakers and threw the door open, letting it shut behind him on its own weight. He bypassed the elevator, flying down the stairs as if stopping would make him change his mind. His heart rabbited in his chest with the exertion and the cold air outside rushed him, teasing the sweat on his chest. He walked along the empty street aimlessly, looking at the rooftops.

“I know you can hear me.” he called to the air in a broken voice. “Come out. Please.”

He heard a sound behind him, and turned to see Sylus stepping out of an alleyway, red mist dissipating around him. His heart stuttered at the sight of him, tall, dark, face pulled into a concerned frown. Zayne rounded on him, pulling him back into the alley by the harness-like holster that crossed his chest. He manhandled Sylus into the wall, and stared at him with an intense need in his chest. Sylus’ scarlet eye was wide in surprise, lips parted as if to say something. Once again, Zayne had found Sylus, and had no idea what to do once he had him.

The desperation on his face, the sounds of their breath mingling, it was all too much. All he wanted was to disappear, to walk back into the shadows and not come back.

“I don’t want to be me right now.” Zayne breathed, hands twining into Sylus’ black shirt. Tears were threatening to fall again.

Sylus’ breath was caught in his throat. He was fighting a headache again. The buzzing sound intensified the pain, and he struggled to beat back the emotions that tore at him. How could he not feel something when Zayne was so obviously ready to break. He wet his lips, fighting to stay indifferent. He looked at Zayne solemnly, bringing a gloved hand to his cheek and thumbing away a tear.

“I can’t give you what you really need.” he said stoically, fighting the ache in his heart. “But I can help you escape. Just for a while.”

Zayne sniffed, nodding as he leaned into Sylus’ touch. That was what he wanted. To fall into the haze of sensation and feeling, and to leave the tangled mess of his life alone for even just a moment. A distraction.

Sylus pulled him into a deep kiss, aggressive and sharp. Zayne leaned in, closing his eyes to the horror he was in. Sylus pulled away, just enough to whisper against him.

“But Reaper,” he murmured in a way that sent a shiver across Zayne’s shoulders. “do not ask me to pretend that you’re anyone else.”

Sylus sealed their lips together again, and they disappeared together in a red-black mist.

Chapter Text

They appeared together at the site of an abandoned warehouse, three stories tall and made out of filthy red brick. The forgotten building played host to numerous broken windows, and looked like it had once housed something important. It was classic in the sense that it reminded Zayne of buildings he’d seen as a child, fully functioning and alive with action and people. Now, it was simply a landing space, forgotten in the wasteland of people who replaced memory with survival.

Sylus pulled away from Zayne’s lips and nodded towards the broken building. They walked together in the dark, towards something dangerous and thrilling. Sylus entered a numeric code into the panel next to the door that looked shiny and new against the weathered stone, he must have installed it himself. Sylus hauled open the rusty double doors that held together in the center, and he extended a hand to Zayne.

Zayne reached back and took his hand, feeling long gloved fingers curl around his. He let Sylus lead him into Purgatory. A place where he was free to scream, claw, and fuck his way to deliverance. He didn’t care, at least that’s what he told himself. He wouldn’t care, just for tonight. Just for a while.

Zayne heard the steel doors behind him slam shut. A seal upon his choice. He welcomed it with a calm face. There was no going back, so he took in the space around him. It was decayed with rust on the beams that held the place up. Spacious, wide open, with stairs that lead to upper levels. The lower level wasn’t decorated with much. An old wooden desk that reminded him of his own kitchen table; scattered with papers and equipment across its cluttered surface, and a wide open space otherwise as Zayne could see.

Sylus eyed him as he walked around, and he came to the space behind the desk. Under normal circumstances he would have been startled at the collage of photos and notes all depicting him, all curated and sorted into a blend of obsession. At the moment he was too numb, too blinded to care beyond light fascination. He reached out to touch a photo of himself watering his jasmine at the window. That was when Sylus decided to strike.

It didn’t take much to push Zayne against the wall and flip him by his shoulders to cage him in and nose at his neck. Sylus brushed his delft fingers over Zayne’s chest and then snaked his hand up to pull his jaw forward to land their lips together.

Zayne slung his arms over Sylus’ shoulders, embracing him, beckoning him forward. Sylus separated from his lips to nip at his jawline and lay kisses down his neck. Zayne gasped at the sensation, eyes blissfully closed. Gloved hands snaked under the flimsy worn cotton of his shirt to roam around his sides and slide up towards his chest.

Zayne pulled his shirt over his head to let Sylus explore him in greater depth, and worked at the buckle of his harness first. As he unclasped the leather straps, he shoved off the straps to prompt Sylus to work his arms out of them. Sylus obliged and shucked off his turtleneck as well, temporarily separating from Zayne’s neck to pull the fabric over his head. Zayne’s hands flew to Sylus’ chest, thumbing over the hard muscle and thumbs brushing over the identical glints of silver barbells that pierced his nipples. Sylus exhaled in a soft groan at the feeling, eyes falling closed and a smile gracing his lips.

Zayne felt lips at his own chest, the wet heat of Sylus’ tongue flicking out to run over the tattoo on his chest over his heart. Sylus pulled off his gloves and let them fall among the growing pile of clothes on the ground. They both gasped when Sylus’ bare hands made contact with his torso, warm skin on skin. Zayne’s arms wrapped back around Sylus’ shoulders to keep him close, flush to his body while Sylus felt him up.

Large hands squeezed at his ass through his sweatpants, and Sylus found himself surprised at the sensation; Zayne typically wore a large overcoat or pants that didn’t do him justice. He felt his cock straining against his pants at the thought of burying himself inside of Zayne.

“You’ve been holding out on me.” Sylus teased and Zayne let out a dry laugh, palming sylus and grinding the heel of his hands into his length gently. Zayne made quick work of his belt buckle before dipping his hand inside to feel Sylus through his briefs. Sylus smoothed his hands inside of Zayne’s waistband to grope at him hungrily, and pressed sharp kisses into his collarbone.

Zayne picked up his pace, rushing to push Sylus’ clothes off of him and pulling the tie from his hair to better tangle his fingers in it. Sylus sucked a new mark into Zayne’s neck enjoying the soft gasps it brought out of him. It was reckless and animal, pure sensation alone, thoughts reduced to feeling and touching.

Sylus brought a hand to Zayne’s cock, shoving down his sweatpants, and froze. Zayne looked back at his shocked face with a sinister smirk.

“I’ve been holding out on you.” Zayne said mockingly. Sylus shoved the sweatpants the rest of the way down, and gave Zayne only a moment to step out of them before he lifted Zayne up by the hips. Sylus cupped his ass, and Zayne wrapped his long legs around the dips in his waist, allowing Sylus to carry him to the cluttered desk, moving hardware and pieces of a gun he’d been cleaning aside to clear a path so he could lay Zayne on his back and get a proper look at him.

The overhead light illuminated pale skin until it glowed angelicly, highlighting every scar and bruise on Zayne’s body. But Sylus’ eyes were trained on only one place. Zayne’s cock was flush against his torso, slightly shorter in length but flushed and heavy between his legs. Just beneath the head was a silver bar, spaced perfectly above another, and another. Sylus felt his mouth water at the sight of the three-runged Jacob’s Ladder.

“Oh, Reaper.” he breathed with a sharp grin, suddenly consumed with the thought of how it would feel to have those piercings slide inside of him. A feral growl fought to escape his chest, and his own cock twitched. “I’m going to take my time tearing you apart.”

Zayne arched his back at the sudden movement of Sylus bending down to lick at his shaft before the heat of his mouth wrapped around his pierced cock. Sylus felt the light clink of the piercings hit his molars and groaned at the sensation, pulling back to ravish them with firm pressure from his tongue. Zayne felt himself twitch in Sylus’ mouth, overwhelmed with the haze of pleasure that poured out of him in moans and sighs. He tugged at Sylus’ hair with one hand, legs finding home over his shoulders. His back ached from the hard desk, and he nearly came at the sight of Sylus, hair messy and a bulge in his cheek with Zayne heavy in his mouth, staring at him ravenously with a single scarlet eye.

Zayne tightened his grip on Sylus' hair, rolling his hips gently to fuck into his mouth. He threw his head back with another gasp, abandoning his reason and his wits in favor of the warmth compounding in his abdomen. He wanted more, he wanted to take and be taken. Another twitch. He wanted to draw this out.

Zayne used his hold on Sylus’ hair to try to pull him off, but Sylus only groaned at the pain. He opened his eye, glancing around the desk before letting Zayne’s cock fall out of his mouth to smack against his core again. Sylus felt conflicted, torn between wanting more of Zayne’s cock and sliding into his plush ass. Zayne growled from the lack of contact and reached down to grip Sylus’ cock in a firm fist. Sylus shivered, hissing through his teeth.

“Make a move, Carrion.” Zayne said thickly. Sylus chuckled, broken and heavy at Zayne’s touch. This simply wouldn’t do. He grabbed Zayne at the wrist, lifting his hand off of his cock and wrapped an arm around Zayne’s torso to flip him over on the desk, feet flat on the ground, chest pressed against the hard wood. Sylus gave a sharp slap to his ass and Zayne released a strangled moan.

“So eager.” he mocked back, grabbing a canister labeled “Ballistol” from the desk next to Zayne’s face. Zayne caught the label of the bottle, his green eyes widening in recognition. There was probably a bottle that looked exactly like it somewhere in the cabinets of his apartment.

“Gun lubricant.” he said, turning to look at Sylus, who was slicking his fingers with it as he watched. “You’re serious.”

“Unless you’re interested in taking me raw.” Sylus said with an amused smile. Zayne felt warm fingers at his entrance, and Sylus leaned down to loom over him, taking his ear between his teeth savagely before smoothing his tongue over the reddening wound. “This isn’t the Pleasure District, kitten.”

Zayne grit his teeth, nails scratching into the desk and caught between the smooth feeling of Sylus adding another finger and that atrocious nickname that Sylus had come up with.

“I’ll remember that.” Zayne hissed at him. “I think I liked you better when your mouth was full.”

Sylus crooked his fingers, imitating the motion his fingers would make when firing a pistol. Zayne jumped in surprise, a loud moan erupting from his throat. Sylus couldn’t wipe the smug look off of his face, eye twinkling as he worked Zayne over thoroughly. He attacked with teeth, nipping and scraping at the tops of his shoulders and the sides of his neck.

Zayne let his head lol to the side, giving Sylus better access to run his tongue along Zayne’s jawline before capturing his lips in another kiss. The lube was doing its job and Sylus’ long fingers felt foreign but smooth pistoning in and out of him to prepare him. Zayne lowered his hand to his own length, but Sylus grabbed his wrist to slam it back down on the desk. He keened, a mixture of frustration and the need for more. It wasn’t enough.

“You didn’t think I’d make it easy for you, did you?” Sylus murmured in his ear.

Suddenly, he drew his fingers out, and leaned back to flip Zayne around once more, getting a full view of his flushed, desperate face. There was just enough aggression in his eyes that told Sylus it was going to be a long night. With a slick hand, he parted Zayne’s knees to line himself up to Zayne’s glistening hole. Finally, finally.

The stretch was far more than Zayne had bargained for, and Sylus had the decency to go slow at first. Zayne didn’t mind, thriving on the pain like a fire consuming paper. It was so much, and yet it wasn’t enough. He wanted to feel motion, he wanted to be buried in the twists of pain and pleasure, he wanted to be ruined.

Sylus’s voice caught in his throat at the feeling of Zayne around him, who was desperately trying to relax as he slid in. Allowing Zayne time to accommodate him was among the very few acts of benevolence he was willing to offer tonight. He let go of a heavy sigh as he slid to the hilt, drinking in the open mouthed ecstasy on Zayne’s face.

Sylus wrapped Zayne’s legs around his waist again, and leaned in to nip at Zayne’s lips again.

“This will not be kind, and it will not be tender, but it will be the best you’ve ever had.” he purred. Zayne grasped Sylus’ face in his hands, forcing him to meet his eyes roughly.

“Don’t make me repeat myself again. Make. A. Move.” he growled, pulling him back into a searing kiss. Electricity coursed down Sylus’ spine at his words, and he squeezed his eyes shut. His control was hanging by a thread. Everything about Zayne had him in a vise grip; the way his body reacted underneath him, the way he clawed towards release, his harsh words. All of it had Sylus absolutely enthralled. He bit back at his headache.

It’s just sex. Focus. he warned himself, and began to pump in small, sharp bursts before snapping his hips up mercilessly into Zayne. Zayne cried out, eyes wide and shocked at how deep Sylus truly was. Zayne lowered a hand to cover his mouth, but Sylus pinned him down by the wrists, forcing his moans to fly free like a flock of birds. His chest heaved, and the light caught the silver barbells of his own piercings.

Zayne looked on wantonly, mouth open as noise after filthy noise spilled out of him. He wanted to taste that metal, to see how sensitive Sylus’ chest could be. He wanted perverse revenge, to deliver every one of these blows back to Sylus. And most importantly, he never wanted Sylus to stop his savage pace. This was what he wanted. To be manhandled, to be touched until he came undone. Black frost began to spiral at his hips, spreading in patterns like black ink in water. The heat of Sylus’ hands at his wrists melted what gathered at the joint, but did nothing to prevent the spread up his forearms.

Sylus threw his head back as if to roar, reveling in this feeling of being alive. It was destructive, it was intoxicating. But he could still go further. With a rumble in his chest he moved to pull Zayne’s torso back up to meet his, and Zayne accommodated, circling his arms around his shoulders to be carried.

Their lips crashed together in a dark harmony, with such ferocity that their teeth threatened to click together. Zayne was slammed back into the stone wall that had started it all. Glossy photos of himself and bits of paper stuck to his skin as Sylus pounded into him, swallowing every one of Zayne’s heated moans. Sylus gazed at his work, at the image of Zayne being destroyed while surrounded by proof of his sick obsession. He snapped his hips again, rolling into him as if he intended to complete his collection by holding him there forever.

“What if I kept you?” He grunted, moving a hand to stroke at Zayne’s aching cock. “What if I never let you leave? What if you were mine?”

Sylus felt Zayne’s cock twitch in his hand directly before he came from the feeling, and a supernova of pleasure engulfed him along with a strong of black frost, surging up his chest and neck and then exploding out in a wave of cold air. Sylus’ hips stuttered for a moment. The sound of buzzing filled his ears and a pain cracked behind his eyes. Too far. he thought in agony. He could never be mine.

Zayne felt Sylus’ hands loosen on his hips and he yelped, trying to grasp at something to keep him from falling. Sylus slid out of him eliciting a strangled moan from Zayne, who gently placed his feet on the floor. He was panting, confused, and his vision cleared to see Sylus holding his head in pain.

“Are you alright?” he said between heavy breaths.

Sylus’ features were taut and harsh, and he stumbled back to grip the desk behind him with white knuckles. After a terrifying moment for both of them, the storm seemed to pass and Sylus’ face relaxed, back to neutral. He looked at Zayne with an eerie calm, as if he’d forgotten what he was thinking about. He nodded, taking a deep breath.

“I’m fine. Headache.” he said, shaking his head.

“We can stop.” Zayne offered, lip knitting between his teeth anxiously. Sylus chuckled, deep and predatory. He grabbed the can of Ballistol from the desk and closed the distance between them to circle his fingers around Zayne’s wrist.

“Not a chance, Reaper. I never leave a job unfinished.” he purred. He engaged his Evol, and the two disappeared again into red mist.

Zayne felt his stomach flip with the sudden motion, and his vision cleared to see a plain room, perhaps it had once been some sort of office in a past life. Now, it held a queen sized bed with black sheets, a side table, and a mirror on the wall.

Zayne stared at the bed, and Sylus looked at him with a raised brow.

“Where did you think I slept? Are you surprised I have a bed?” he teased. Zayne shrugged.

“Based on your behavior, I assumed you slept in my walls, watching me sleep.” he retorted. Sylus pulled his chin towards him to make eye contact.

“Well, if you play your cards right…” he crooned, motioning down with his eyes and dragging them back up to Zayne’s scandalously. “...perhaps that’s where I’ll sleep tonight.”

“Beastly.” Zayne scoffed, rolling his eyes at Sylus, who pushed him into the room.

“Now,” Sylus crooned, pushing Zayne to shove him onto the bed before crawling on top of him. “Where were we?”

“You’re sure you’re okay?” Zayne pressed him in between deep kisses.

“Don’t ask me again, Reaper.” Sylus growled, fearful of the feelings that could surface under Zayne’s careful eyes. “Wasn’t it you that insisted on making a move?”

Zayne’s irritation flared and that fiery look sparked back behind his eyes. He snarled, pushing at Sylus’ shoulders to flip their positions. Zayne swiped the can of lubricant from Sylus’ hand and made direct eye contact as he applied some liberally to his fingers.

“Good. Then it’s my turn.”

Sylus’ wicked grin was back on his face as Zayne forced his knees apart to gently slide his left index finger into his hole. This wasn’t what he’d planned, but a quick glance at Zayne’s half-hard length and those delicious piercings made him excited about the direction he was taking. He wondered how far he could push him into that energy, the space to take and desire as he pleased.

Zayne kept his fingers going, nose wrinkling at the smell of the mineral oil, and leaned down to take Sylus’ nipple into his mouth, biting and teasing at the barbell there. Sylus tensed underneath him, groaning from the stimulation, and Zayne felt him flutter around him. He stayed here for a moment, before switching to the other and taking pleasure in the sounds that sylus was making.

“You’re good at this, kitten.” Sylus provoked him. Zayne lifted his head to glare, and added another finger, roughly this time.

“Behave yourself.” he warned. Sylus gave him a cheeky grin.

“Or what?” Sylus said to challenge him. Zayne gripped his chin roughly.

“Or you can acquaint yourself with your hand, because I’ll be gone.” he threatened. Sylus chuckled at him.

“I don’t think you’re going anywhere, Reaper.” he beamed. Zayne scowled at him.

“That’s enough out of you.” he said tersely, shoving two fingers of his right hand into Sylus’ mouth. He motioned with his chin to Sylus’ aching cock. “It’s a shame you’re occupying both of my hands. You look like you want attention.”

Sylus worked his tongue over Zayne’s fingers, but he didn’t miss the spark in Zayne’s eyes. His words were biting and harsh, but he was loving this.

“That seems to be the common theme doesn’t it, Sylus?” Zayne continued, voice thick and hoarse as he descended on his chest again. He summoned his Evol and blew cold, frosty air over Sylus’ nipple and pec, feeling sylus tense up again. “That’s all you seem to want. My attention.”

Zayne felt Sylus apply small licks to his fingers, groaning as his cock twitched in exhilaration. Zayne’s tongue flicked out to have a trace of heat to the cold metal and black frost that covered this portion of his chest, and Sylus shivered at the sensation. Sylus reached a hand to brace against Zayne’s wrist when he threatened to reach further into his mouth.

“Where did all that bravado go, hm?” Zayne said, pulling both hands away from their spots roughly.

The sensation of being empty all at one had Sylus gasping for air and his cock straining. Zayne gripped him with his slick left hand and gave him a few languid strokes. Precum dribbled out of the head, and Zayne repositioned himself at Sylus’ entrance. Zayne could have been more thorough, but Sylus had pushed him just enough to earn a little sting.

Sylus had never been more turned on in his life. No one had ever left him speechless like this, no one had barrelled through his charisma and brash personality before. He gasped, arching his back off of the mattress as Zayne pressed into him fluidly and slowly. It was everything Sylus had hoped it would be; the stretch, the catching of those three piercings as they slid into him. It was enough to drive him completely mad, and he wanted more.

Zayne seated himself deep inside of Sylus and manipulated his body to have him lay on his side, throwing Sylus’ leg over his shoulder when he began to pump. Sylus’ moans were tumbling out of him in a desperate staccato, broken and aching for more. Zayne grazed teeth over Sylus’ inner leg, a threat to bite and Sylus wished he would. He’d lowered a hand to his cock, knowing that he was close.

“Give it all to me; all your anger, all the pain.” Sylus breathed. “I want to feel every piece of darkness in you.”

Something about the way he said it made Zayne slow down. He pushed Sylus’ leg off of his shoulder and leaned down to look at him properly, his face softer now. He reached a hand to cup the right side of Sylus’ face, thumb brushing the hair away from his leather eye patch. His eyes held something else, like he was searching for something.

“I think you deserve more than anger and pain.” Zayne said quietly. “You’ve already gotten more than your share. Haven’t you?”

Sylus closed his eyes as the pain started. It was like Zayne was seeing into him, and he knew how that would end. He wanted to hold onto whatever this moment could offer him, every headache seemed to rob him of that. He scrambled for purchase, and used his Evol to switch their positions, Zayne on his back and Sylus straddling him. Zayne was startled, confused, and Sylus was sinking back onto his length with a sigh.

“Don’t.” He said tightly, beating back a warmth from reaching his heart. His voice betrayed him, broken, yearning. “Don’t do that. Don’t think. Just feel.”

Sylus rolled his hips, and Zayne was pulled out of his concern by the movement of Sylus riding him, leaning back on his hands to put more power into his hips. Zayne reached for Sylus, gripping his thighs to pull himself up to a sitting position. He pulled Sylus forward at the arm, laying a sharp kiss to his lips as he stroked his thick cock. Their moans and sighs were a perfect chorus, mingling together like they belonged with each other.

“Close.” Zayne whispered in a hushed voice. Sylus gripped Zayne’s hair, pulling to expose his neck and wrapped his free arm around his waist. With incredible force, he found the place in between Zayne’s shoulder cap and the pillar of his neck, and bit down hard.

Zayne cried out, clutching at Sylus hard enough to scratch angry red marks down his back, and Sylus came in his hand. Sylus tasted the tang of blood in his mouth and groaned into Zayne’s shoulder at his release, fluttering around Zayne’s length tightly.

Zayne followed him, his second orgasm of the night nearly blinding him with the heat of it. They collapsed into each other, both glistening with a sheen of sweat, and black frost gently working up Zayne’s sides and back. They untangled their limbs and fell together against the soft mattress, panting and riding out their separate orgasms.

For a moment, everything was quiet in both of their heads. No Carrion, no Dawnbreaker, just two people in a blissful mess on the sheets. They weren’t together, simply alone in the same room as one another, but shouldn’t that count for something?

Sylus moved first, lazily sitting up to stretch out his limbs. Zayne stayed on his back, staring up at the ceiling. For once, it was a new ceiling in a new place. Thoughts of what he’d been running from slowly began to descend on him like snowflakes.

“So,” Sylus said softly. “What happened?”

Zayne didn’t look at him, his mouth pulling into a slight frown.

“I thought you said this wasn’t going to be kind.”

“Suit yourself.” Sylus shrugged. Zayne felt his insides curl, chiding himself for being rude. Sylus was only asking a question, not demanding information. He sat up with a sigh, wrapping his arms around his knees.

“My friend who was taken. We think she was taken by the same people who took you and who stole your aethercore. She has one too, in her heart. She’s probably dead now.” Zayne said, a wave of nausea flipping his stomach as he thought about it. Sylus gaped at him.

“How do you know about my aethercore?” he said. Zayne turned his head to look at him incredulously.

“Are you seriously going to take issue with this when you have what is functionally a shrine on your wall out there?” Zayne asked him. Sylus cringed internally. “It doesn’t feel good when others tell you your own secrets, does it?”

“That’s fair.” Sylus said, looking away in embarrassment. “And I’m sorry about your friend.”

Zayne didn’t acknowledge his sentiments. He didn’t know what to make of it all, but he couldn’t just ignore the feeling that she was still alive. He unwrapped his arms from his knees to stretch, feeling the delicious sting of the bite in his neck.

“Thank you. For helping me run.” Zayne said, glancing up at Sylus, who only smiled in return. “I should go.”

Zayne turned to slide his legs off the bed when he felt a hard grip on his wrist. He looked back at Sylus in surprise only to find that Sylus was wearing the exact same expression on his face. Sylus let him go, folding his arms over his chest as if he didn’t know what he’d been thinking. His face relaxed, and he tried to play it off, but Zayne felt a pang of concern for him. First the headaches, now this?

“One more thing.” Sylus said, reclaiming his thoughts. His body was tense, but his voice was easy. “Applied Strategic Technology for Retaliatory Adversaries.”

Zayne stared at him, puzzled.

“You look like you need a win.” Sylus said, shrugging his shoulders. Something clicked into place for Zayne. His eyes widened and his lips parted in understanding. With a new burst of energy he leaned back over the bed to lay a quick kiss on Sylus’ lips.

“Thank you.” he whispered, before bounding out of the room to find his way back home.

Sylus would have offered to take him, but the buzzing that heralded new waves of pain was back. He kneaded his temples, gritting his teeth. Every time he had one of these bouts that he couldn’t fight off, something was taken from him. It wasn’t a memory or a thought, it was emotion. Anything he’d been feeling cut out like the light of a dying streetlamp and only obsession remained, only thick neutrality and curiosity. The dark parts of him that wanted Zayne to stay, whether he wanted to or not. Sylus wondered how much had been taken from him tonight alone.

He laid back on the bed, staring at the cracked ceiling to try and replay the memories back, trying to guess what was missing. It was just sex. Nothing more he told himself, trying to turn a lie into truth.

Chapter Text

Dawn had broken by the time Zayne made it back to his apartment complex, rippling in oranges and reds along the dark city streets. It would have been a beautiful sight had Zayne not been exhausted and confused. He hoped that the Godeater would finally be up to talking after Zayne had a chance to rest, but even the Doctor would do for this conversation. He’d finally gotten another clue, and he was hoping that it would be a step forward for all of them. He cringed, thinking of how the Doctor had looked at him in the hallway. Zayne couldn’t blame him in the least, but it still felt embarrassing, isolating.

He knew that the Godeater was instructed from a young age to control massive amounts of power, but he wondered where the Doctor had learned to be so in control. When it came to the Doctor, Zayne found himself stuck between resentment and admiration. He seemed too perfect. His life seemed perfect. He had everything Zayne could want; family, love, wealth, and the freedom to pursue his passions. Everything Zayne had either wished for or lost in his life. The Doctor seemed free in all the ways he was not.

He tucked those feelings away; jealousy wouldn’t serve him or anyone. He’d agreed to help, and that had to be enough. He could take the glares or the icy disposition. They didn’t have to like each other to work together. He groaned, running a hand through his hair. He knew that the correct thing to do was apologize, but it was yet another conversation he wasn’t looking forward to.

The elevator dinged for the tenth floor and the hall was thankfully empty. He wasn’t sure he could look either of his other selves in the eye right now. All he wanted was a hot shower and a long sleep before he truly unpacked any of the things he’d done or seen last night. Sylus had been right, it was the best sex he’d ever had, but it was becoming increasingly clear that something was very wrong. Zayne needed to figure out how to help. But first, a shower on the highest heat setting was in order.

He reached for his keys and then remembered that he hadn’t brought them along. Cursing his carelessness, he twisted the doorknob and came face to face with both of the people he was trying to avoid. Damn it all.

Zayne looked around in surprise; his apartment was completely back to normal; the couch had been fixed, as had his television, window and the holes in the wall. All better than it had been in the first place, as if nothing had happened at all. There were even new blackout curtains on the windows.

The Godeater was on the sofa, leaned forward with his elbows on his knees as if he’d been in deep thought. He still looked tired, but there was color to his cheeks and he seemed far better off than he had a few days ago. The Doctor was standing near the window, arms crossed, poised and rigid except for the clearly worried expression on his face. Godeater spoke first, standing up from the couch.

“We were worried when you didn’t come home last night, and your apartment was unlocked.” he said. “We were about to start searching for you.”

“How are you feeling?” Zayne asked the Godeater.

“Better. I’ll be fine, thank you.” he said tensely. He glanced at the Doctor. “I heard what happened. Are you alright?”

“It’s nothing to worry about.” Zayne eyed the Doctor warily. The Doctor looked awkward and forced himself to make eye contact as he gathered his composure.

“I should know better than anyone how that would feel to hear. What I said was inconsiderate, I apologize.” the Doctor said simply, a tinge of guilt making him purse his lips.

Zayne nodded in his direction in acknowledgement. He crossed his arms and swallowed uncomfortably.

“This is the only thing I’m going to say about this: She is my family, and I will not give up on my family. Not ever. And neither would you.” he said, looking directly at the Doctor. “If either of you place any value on my involvement in all of this, you are going to help me look. I will not stop until she is home and safe, or until I have irrefutable proof that she is gone.”

He looked at the Godeater next.

“You encouraged me to continue looking for Sylus even after there was evidence of his passing. I do not take kindly to a double standard.” He said firmly. “Both of you are in my reality. I am not a bystander, and you will hear what I have to say. Consider this matter closed. I’m going to shower.”

Zayne turned to enter his bedroom when the Godeater perked up, even more alert than before. He inhaled deeply as if he’d picked up on a strange scent.

“Where were you, Dawnbreaker?” Godeater asked curiously. Zayne ignored him, continuing to the bedroom to get to his shower. Godeater lifted a finger and flicked it in a swishing motion. An unseen force tugged Zayne’s tshirt down the side of his right shoulder cap. Zayne recoiled, yanking the collar of his shirt back into place, but it was already too late. They had already seen the deep bite mark that was already beginning to bruise and needed to be treated.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” he said, anger flaring in his eyes. The other two looked stunned. Godeater looked at him with wide eyes of recognition, and the Doctor’s lips had fallen open with surprise.

“You met Sylus.” said the Doctor. “You found him.”

Zayne stared at them, clamping a hand over the area as if it would hide the mark, or any of the other hickeys and scratches that Sylus had decorated him with. This seemed incredibly private and he felt exposed. His cheeks flared with heat, and he felt like a teenager that had been caught doing something he shouldn’t.

“How could you possibly know that? Perhaps I was bitten by an Alterum.” Zayne scrambled. He wasn’t trying to hide it exactly, but this wasn’t how he’d wanted to present this information at all.

To Zayne’s surprise, the other two dragged the collars of their own shirts down to the very same spot on the tops of their shoulders, in the swell of their lats above the collarbone. Their tandem was uncanny, though all three of them knew it wasn't on purpose. The Doctor unbuttoned the second button on his black button up to reveal a light scar in the shape of a normal bite that was faint, but present from being reapplied over and over. The yellow bloom of color around it suggested a bruise that was nearly a week old. The Godeater had pulled his hoodie and cotton shirt aside to show a deep mottled scarring, the perfect imprint of teeth and fangs as if he’d been attacked by a lion or something even more ravenous…a dragon. They both looked at him with knowing eyes. Zayne’s blush deepened at the site.

“Dragons refer to it as ‘mate guarding.’” Godeater said matter of factly, looking between his two counterparts. “I suppose some things are universal constants.”

The Doctor’s cheeks went almost as pink as Zayne’s, and the discomfort in the room was tangible for everyone except Godeater, who seemed completely unfazed if not a little proud. Zayne turned away again, hand still clamped over his shoulder.

“I’m going to shower. We can talk later.” Zayne said tersely, walking with purpose to his bedroom, but throwing one last comment to Godeater specifically. “Perhaps about boundaries.”

Zayne closed the door behind him and kicked his sneakers off with a deep sigh. He undressed, and drifted into the bathroom to place both hands on the sink, trying to make sense of what his life had become. He had hoped to have that conversation a tad more delicately rather than being discovered by the heightened senses of a demigod.

He looked up at himself in the mirror, and saw nothing but the differences between him and the two people in his living room. Purple dusted his undereyes from lack of sleep and his skin looked pale and sullen. His teeth weren’t perfect from years as a child in pure survival mode, and his hair was dry and messy.

He knew he shouldn’t compare himself to the likes of an inhuman being, full of power and from a life that Zayne couldn’t imagine. But the Doctor…he scoffed, stopping himself. He needed to give up this resentment in his heart, it was only complicating things. But seeing The Doctor’s mark on his shoulder, made by someone who showered him with love instead of someone he barely knew had triggered something that Zayne knew wasn’t his fault. He felt like the weakest link, failing at even this.

Zayne stared next at the marks on his body, remembering how good it felt to be taken by Sylus, how effortlessly their bodies had come together. How empowering it had been to reduce him to moans and sighs and force him to eat his words. Despite Sylus’ obsession, his brutal touch and whip of a tongue, Zayne couldn’t deny their draw to each other. They were both shattered in different ways, and he couldn’t help but wonder what the patterns and mosaics their shards could create when they came together.

He traced the fresh bite in his skin, wincing at the sting. The worry over Sylus’ headaches and the point where he’d nearly stopped set in. Sylus seemed miserable but pushed through on pure confidence alone. There was no doubt he was suffering in a way neither of them knew how to help.

And yet, the connection had been breathtaking, the way they’d played with each other, met each other on a physical level no matter how the emotions escaped them both. It had been filthy, imperfect, two people who were desperately trying to reach each other, but their souls never seemed to touch. It was still meaningful, like a signal flare in the dark amidst the debris of their baggage. A lump caught in Zayne’s throat. He told himself to put the thoughts away, reminded himself not to ask for more, and yet he couldn’t stop thinking about wanting to know him on a level that wasn’t teasing or physical alone.

There had been a moment, one split fraction of a second where Sylus’ gaze had gone soft, where his words had gone from the raving of a madman to the yearning of someone who was tired of petty games. What if you were mine? he had said. Zayne felt a stutter in his chest just thinking about it. On the surface, the words seemed possessive and toxic, but the way he said them was sweet. Longing.

Zayne turned away from the glass, turning the dial in the shower to blast the hottest water he could hope for to soothe his wounds from a consensual battle and wash his hair properly. He was exhausted, but tried to keep himself present. He’d discovered some important information last night. He cringed when he thought of the light peck he’d given Sylus before he left, even though they’d both intentionally decided to keep their distance emotionally. It had felt natural, something he hadn’t even thought about, but worry plagued him that he’d gone past a boundary in some way.

He turned off the water reluctantly, tempted to stay in the shower all day under the haze of the steam and pressure of the showerhead. He toweled off, avoiding his own eyes in the mirror as he rummaged around for antiseptic ointment for his bite mark. He sighed, drying his hair. He couldn’t avoid this forever.

He went into the living room to find that his guests had left, and Zayne sighed in relief. He looked to his kitchen table, finding that his jar of wrapped chocolates had been filled to the brim. A peace offering. He unwrapped one, letting the sweetness coat his tongue, and let his thoughts settle enough to find sleep as soon as his head hit the pillow.

___

Zayne gathered his counterparts after he’d woken near the early evening. He let them have the couch, while he made himself comfortable sitting cross-legged on the carpet.

“Thank you, by the way, for fixing this place.” Zayne said, eyeing his newly renovated apartment around them. “That was kind of you. The curtains are a new addition. I like them.”

“They were actually the Doctor’s idea.” the Godeater said.

“I noticed some prying eyes at the window.” said the Doctor. “A crow. He’s easy to miss if you don’t know what you’re looking for.”

Zayne scoffed, shaking his head in irritation.

“I assume your Conqueror also has a nosy mechanical bird.” Zayne said dryly.

“Mephisto.” a faint smile crossed the Doctor’s features. “I have to admit that I’m curious about your Sylus, Carrion.” Zayne scraped at a hangnail on his index finger with the nail of his thumb in thought.

“From what I can tell, he’s different from both of your Sylus’.” Zayne said, looking at each of them. He went on a tangent, telling them both how they met, and what they’d been doing in the time that Godeater had been gone. “Maybe there are some similarities, but there’s something that he’s not telling me.”

“It was difficult at first.” The Doctor said fondly. “The stalking, the games. He annoyed the life out of me, but something changed between us when his life was on the line. That’s when I got to see who he really was.”

“We tried to kill each other.” Godeater said with his own fond smile. The Doctor and Zayne snapped their attention to the Godeater with a raised eyebrow. Godeater simply shrugged. “We despised each other at the time. I will admit now that it was riveting, but it took nearly two years to move past the tension between us. I imagine it wouldn’t have taken nearly as long without Astra’s presence. We had to hide for a long time.”

Zayne traced the bite mark on his shoulder through the thin cotton of his black tshirt. The tension was definitely felt.

“It’s as if he’s on the verge of feeling something real, but then something in him just stops. He looks like he’s in pain, but then he’s back to the way he was before; where everything is either a game or a fascination.” Zayne said, recalling all the times when Sylus pulled back or stopped himself from going any deeper into a conversation. All the times he’d recoiled at the pain in his head. “I can’t get a proper read on him. He’s so hot and cold. Sometimes his gestures are thoughtful, but his words are so distant.”

The Doctor listened, arms crossed, with a slight frown on his face.

“I have a theory, but I want to confirm something first.” he said. He looked to the Godeater. “Is there any chance I can speak to the Caleb from my world?”

“No. I haven’t been able to sustain a connection beyond realities with anyone besides the Sovereign. And I’m afraid I can’t take you back just yet, I’m still recovering from our last trip.” the Godeater shook his head.

“If it has to do with the Fleet, I may be able to buy information if that’s of any help.” Zayne remarked.

“That may be our best option.” the Doctor nodded, pulling a wallet from his pocket and opening it to reveal a thick stack of bills that made Zayne’s eyes go wide. “I assume they take credits in this place? Would this be enough?”

“Where did you get all of that?” Zayne said, marveling at how much money was in his possession all at once. The Doctor hesitated, and his eye contact broke in slight embarrassment.

“My Sylus wanted to ensure that we had everything we needed to succeed.” he said, the corners of his mouth upturning.

“A good thing that he did. This should be plenty enough to get somewhere.” Zayne said, getting to his feet. “What am I looking for?”

“Buy as much information as you can on something called a “Toring Chip.” the Doctor instructed, fishing the entire stack of bills out of the wallet to hand to Zayne. “And if there’s anything left, perhaps something that passes for actual food. Those nutrient drinks lack both taste and soul.”

Zayne gave him an amused smirk, taking the bills from him. From now on, you pay your own generator bill. he thought, suppressing a laugh.

Chapter Text

Sylus was stretched out on his back, lazy as a cat, on the roof of the building opposite Zayne’s apartment. He held up his phone to watch Mehpisto’s live feed, glancing down at the street every so often from the ledge he was lounging on. He watched the streets now as a man in a paper mask and long sleeves pushed his way out the door to exit the building; Zayne’s brother. Or his alternate self who received a tattoo from a dragon. Sylus thought, rolling his eyes. Odd that he wasn’t wearing his gloves this evening. Sylus had never seen him take them off.

It had been a fruitless night. He’d taken the time to dig through the Captain’s office at the Sector Enforcement building, but found nothing of immediate use. He did clone Captain Xia’s access for the secure database in hopes of finding more on A.S.T.R.A. but he didn’t feel confident about finding much. The most he’d managed to do was delete every record of Dawnbreaker from the system. All the sightings, wanted posters, calls for arrest, records of fines and summons…gone in the blink of an eye. Sylus considered it his one good deed for the day.

He’d come here only to find that Zayne’s apartment windows in both his bedroom and his living area had been darkened with blackout curtains, barring him from being able to watch through the windows. Such a waste. Sylus sighed. He hadn’t broken in lately either; he didn’t like appearing in the room when there was a risk his brother or nosy neighbor would be about. It would complicate things. His only objective was to follow the Reaper.

He trained his eyes back on the screen of his phone, following Zayne through Mephisto as he wandered the streets of Diyu. He saw Zayne at the same stall he used to buy electronics and equipment, and pull out a very large sum of money. He raised an eyebrow. Where had he gotten that? Most of Zayne’s income came from picking through the wallets of Alterum or selling off their protocores to the Merchant’s District. There was no possible way he’d come up with that much all at once.

He watched as Zayne left the Merchant’s District, walking down the crowded streets and dipping his hand into his pocket to keep a tight fist over the remaining credits. Smart. Mephisto took flight, using a digital stabilizer to lock in on Zayne without the frame shaking. He was headed for the Food District. It wasn’t typical for Zayne; he typically relied on those tasteless nutrient drinks for sustenance. Truthfully, so was Sylus at the moment out of necessity, but Zayne always had many options for food and never chose something more satisfying. It was interesting that he was stopping there now.

With a frown, Sylus watched him take two bags with small boxes of meals from a noodle stand. There was enough there to feed three people, perhaps more. Why so much? Zayne didn’t have friends. The Reaper was very peculiar this evening. Mephisto trailed him on the way back to the elevator to take him back to the surface, and he cut through the Pleasure District.

Someone from the crowd reached to grab Zayne by the shoulder. Zayne whipped around to see who it was and his face fell into a scowl. Sylus glanced around, making sure he was alone before he clicked a button on the screen to turn on the microphone. The noises and bustle of the street and other conversations filled the air through the speaker on Sylus’ phone, and he directed Mephisto to get closer until he could finally hear Zayne’s irritated voice when the crow perched on top of a sign for “pleasure services.”

“I’ve already told you no. How many times do I have to tell you to leave me alone?” Zayne snarled.

Sylus could see the pleasure-cruiser’s face more clearly from this angle; skin pale and washed out, eyes drooping and grin slack from whatever drugs he was on. He was dressed to draw in a crowd no doubt. He was pretty, but his beauty was fading fast from whatever junk he pumped through his toned arms.

“Come on, baby. I know we’ve had our differences, but I don’t mind if you’re a little mean to me. Can’t stop thinking about how much fun we had…” the young man slurred in a husky voice, tossing his head to throw back a mop of limp brown hair suggestively. Zayne looked at him with intense distaste, eyes stone cold.

Sylus sat up instantly, a deep spike of discontent zipping through his muscles. His lip curled, a snarl at his mouth. Who was this accosting Zayne? Sylus had a dark impulse to break his facade, to appear in the underworld of Diyu specifically to snap the neck of that little cruiser who dared to touch Zayne. He was the only one who knew what Zayne actually wanted, he was the only one who could play their game. Sylus gritted his teeth as he continued watching.

“Believe me when I tell you that I don’t need what you’re selling.” Zayne sneered. “And not that you’ll remember this conversation tomorrow, but perhaps you should seek a new craft. It was so unremarkable that I don’t even remember your name.”

The man scoffed in offense, removing his hands from Zayne’s shoulder and flipping him off.

“Fucking asshole.” the cruiser seethed, turning to walk away. Zayne rolled his eyes as he walked away, clearly unbothered, in control.

The very thought of Zayne touching someone else made Sylus’ blood boil. Someone else had experienced the searing skin contact, the bedroom eyes, and seen how perfect Zayne looked when he came. The idea was offensive in every way. A very deep darkness spoke to Sylus incessantly. Mine. Sylus thought horridly. I marked him.

That dark curl of thought encouraged Sylus, reassured him. He rolled off of the ledge he’d been reclining on and onto the roof, turning back to stare angrily at the street below. There was no emotion, only one coherent thought. No one else can touch him.

Something poisonous within Sylus coiled like a viper. He placed a hand to his forehead, almost dizzy. The tangled ideas that writhed in his mind in a white static glaze wasn’t enough help to organize his thoughts. All he could perceive above the disorienting static was a word chanted over and over. Mine, mine, mine...

He looked back at his phone to see that the screen had gone dark; Zayne was likely en route to the surface, in the elevator or the tunnels where Mephisto couldn’t hide as easily from Zayne’s sight. He sighed, shoving his phone back into his pocket. He tried to talk himself down. He was overreacting past the point of rationality, but this sickening urge wasn’t letting go. He thought of taking Zayne right off of these streets and keeping him locked away, seducing him with words and touches until he’d never want to leave his bedroom again.

Sylus shook his head, arguing with himself. That was wrong. It wasn’t what he wanted, it wasn’t him. Where was this coming from? He pushed back against the dizzying thoughts, fighting the urge to possess the Reaper as if he belonged to him. Something else was buried under the surface. The warmth that kept threatening to rise in his chest seemed to pound on the cage he kept it in, raging, begging to get out. That was when the pain flashed through his head like lightning.

Sylus breathed through the pain, slowly calming down. He felt something warm and wet underneath his mask, tickling his face. With heavy breaths, he pulled off his mask and raised the back of his wrist to his nose to swipe at the sensation. Blood? he thought in confusion. When did his nose start bleeding? His stomach flipped, and he swallowed tensely. He felt his Evol engage, wicking the blood from his skin as if nothing had happened, but the lead weight in his chest didn’t go away.

Movement on the street made Sylus’ attention flicker to the sidewalk outside of the apartment building he was keeping a watch on. Zayne had a neutral expression on his face as he walked briskly in the cold air. Sylus thought of the conversation he’d had with the sex worker in Diyu and his brow furrowed again. He pulled his cell phone out of his pocket and dialed a number.

He watched Zayne stop, shuffling the bags he was carrying into one hand to reach into his pocket and draw out his cellphone. He frowned at the [BLOCKED NUMBER] listing for the contact, and pressed the screen to decline the call. Sylus made a tch sound against his teeth, frowning when he heard an automated voice on the other line.

This user has not set up their voicemail box. Please try again later.

Sylus hung up the phone. This would not do at all.

__

Zayne used his shoulder to open the broken door of the apartment complex, making his way across the dilapidated lobby. He knew exactly who had been on the other end of that phone call, but now was certainly not the time when he had so much to focus on at home. The information he’d ordered would take a few days to come in. When he’d asked the merchant what the hold up was, the old man shrugged and said ”You didn’t specify which model, so I assumed you’d want info on both.” He’d have to ask the Doctor what that meant.

Zayne pressed the call button on the elevator. The metal doors yielded for him immediately, opening to reveal a tall man in black, leaning against the wall of the elevator cabin. Zayne narrowed his eyes at Sylus’ cheeky smirk.

“Perhaps I’ll take the next one.”

“Don’t be like that, Reaper.” Sylus crooned, lifting a finger to beckon him inside. “It’s very rude to hang up on people, didn’t you know?”

Zayne sighed, and stepped inside as the doors closed behind him. Sylus’ scarlet gaze twinkled in victory.

“I don’t suppose one of those plates is for me?” Sylus teased, and Zayne’s glare needed no verbal confirmation. “Hmm. I wonder who you’re entertaining, then. Do they know all about how much you like to be thrown around?”

Zayne’s face remained stoic as Sylus crowded his space, staring down at him like a predator.

“Maybe I’ll follow you home, and see who’s got your attention tonight.” he breathed. Zayne scoffed at him, and the tiniest hint of a smirk pulled at the corner of his narrow lips.

“Once again, that’s what it comes down to, isn’t it? My attention.” he said smugly. His voice dropped to little more than a whisper. “You sound jealous, Sylus.”

Sylus pulled the emergency stop lever inside of the elevator and shoved Zayne into the wall of the cabin. Zayne dropped his bags, eyes fluttering closed at the feeling of Sylus’ lips crashing into his. Sylus scraped his teeth on Zayne’s bottom lip, pulling away to lick at one of the dark purple hickeys he’d left at the base of his throat the night before. Zayne felt a dangerous heat pool in his abdomen, and a fresh spot of black frost crawl up his neck around Sylus' tongue.

“I saw you in the Pleasure District.” Sylus whispered, smiling wildly when Zayne’s pulse quickened underneath his lips. “Did you give it to him like you gave it to me? Have I replaced all memory of him in your mind?”

Zayne shuddered, gripping Sylus’ hair to pull him closer.

“And why would that be any concern of yours?” Zayne breathed, suppressing a soft moan.

Sylus kissed at his neck, working his way back up to his jawline and then his lips to slip his tongue into Zayne’s mouth. Sylus’ arms caged him in, and that was perfectly fine with Zayne, who had his free hand wrapped around the leather of his harness. The kiss was deep, wet, claiming.

“Because…” Sylus growled between heated brushes of their lips, hands snaking into Zayne’s large coat and running up his sides with a firm pressure. ”I don’t like it when others touch my things.”

Zayne shivered, but his jaw set firmly and his eyes opened. He pulled at Sylus’ hair roughly, tugging his head back, letting go of his harness. He panted, a hungry look in his own eyes.

“Your things?” he sneered breathlessly. “You don’t even know what you want from me, Sylus. Right now I see a fiend who simply knows my schedule and appreciates my body jewelry.”

Sylus let go of a broken breath, excitement stuttering out of him in waves. He tensed, feeling the sharp cold of ice around his legs. He glanced down to see that Zayne had frozen his legs to the floor of the elevator up to his knees. His eye snapped back to Zayne in exhilarated surprise. Zayne pulled him forward for one more blistering kiss before whispering in his ear.

“Don’t bite like a dog if you don’t know what you’re chasing.” he hissed. Zayne let go of his hair, taking in Sylus’ awed expression. Nothing seemed to excite him more than when Zayne matched his energy.

Zayne slammed the emergency stop lever back into place, and the doors of the elevator opened with a ding. Zayne worked himself around Sylus body and frozen legs, and picked up his bags of takeout. He threw Sylus one final look, and pressed the button for the ground floor of the building as he left.

“Until next time, Carrion.” he said. Sylus’ features settled into a wicked grin as the doors closed to take him back down to the lobby.

Zayne couldn’t suppress his smirk as he walked down the hallway. It was getting harder to tell himself that he didn’t enjoy their little cat and mouse game. Still, that possessive streak Sylus had just displayed was new, dangerous. It was as if he’d escalated, and decided to circle him like a vulture. He’d need to keep an eye on that.

Zayne approached his door and paused. He could hear voices speaking behind the flimsy wood of his door and stopped to listen.

“I’m not saying that. His Evol is out of control. That is what gives me pause.”

“And those are skills that can be taught. Don’t tell me you’ve never had a tense moment where your power flared when you did not intend it.”

Zayne frowned. The voices were identical, but it wasn’t difficult to tell who was who.

”Maybe Astra has already broken him. Wouldn’t you be by all of this? And if his Sylus is chipped, this could get incredibly ugly very quickly.” the Doctor said firmly.

”Have some compassion; he’s Astra’s target in this world. Find your decorum, Doctor. I’ll remind you that your nightmares have nearly stopped because of his efforts.” the Godeater argued.

”I’m not insulting him. I’m saying that he’s been through an immeasurable amount of pain. One tragedy after another. That does things to someone, I can tell you from experience.”

Zayne scoffed. He’d heard enough. He opened the door to his apartment, striding through the door to greet his guests. He stared evenly at their faces, both startled and guarded as if they’d just been discovered.

Zayne put the bags on the kitchen table, shrugging out of his coat without a word to let them bask in a silence of their own making.

Chapter Text

Zayne had elected to ignore what he’d heard, eyeing the Doctor with an even gaze. They watched each other. Neither of their faces were angry nor resentful, simply…neutral. The sorcerer broke the silence.

“You ran into Sylus again.” the Godeater said casually as Zayne pulled a set of bowls out of a cabinet to wash in the sink. It had been so long since they’d been used that a layer of dust had accumulated on the grey ceramic. Zayne looked up at Godeater incredulously. His counterpart simply tapped on the side of his nose. Zayne rolled his eyes, remembering the demi-fiend’s heightened senses. It’s like having roommates again. Zayne thought with a sigh. He could tell that both the Doctor and the Godeater were both curious about Carrion, but neither wanted to pry.

“He has a jealous streak.” Zayne reported, throwing them a bone. Both of his counterparts made a confused face. “Yours don’t?”

“Protective, yes. But he’s never been outright jealous. If anything there’s been a moment or two when I’ve been slightly jealous in the past.” the Doctor said, taking a bowl from Zayne to serve himself a helping of noodles. “But I can’t account for your dynamic or his differences from Carrion.”

Zayne offered the Godeater a bowl. Just a gesture of good will, a signal of belonging in a way. After all, humans tended to bond over meals, and considering the demi-fiend’s affinity for chocolate, Zayne found it impolite to assume he wouldn’t want to partake even if he didn’t need to eat. Zayne watched him pause, as if deciding. After a moment, the sorcerer took the bowl from Zayne with a nod of thanks.

“Sovereign isn’t prone to jealousy either, not that there’s been much of an opportunity to test that.” Said Godeater, moving a stack of papers out of the way to set his bowl down on the table and join the Doctor. “He’s more possessive, I would say, but it’s more primal in nature rather than emotional. I understood it more intimately when we started sharing a soul, I suppose.”

“What is that like, sharing a soul with someone?” Zayne asked curiously, handing him a set of chopsticks. The Godeater took them with a nod in his gloved hands, trying to remember how to hold them properly and working them against the pads of his fingers thoughtfully.

“Inimate. In a way you cannot escape.” the Godeater said with a slight upturn in his lips. “It was an adjustment because our power was tangled together for a time. It was an opportunity to adapt. To know each other through trial, and conquer it with one another.”

The sorcerer found his grasp on his chopsticks and stirred the noodles in his bowl before continuing. Both Zayne and the Doctor had stopped their motions, hanging on every word.

“It’s still intertwined, but in a way we both understand now. We could feel each other. Every pulse of life. It’s not something you can lie to or hide from. It feels like he’s in my periphery. And I know that I am in his.”

The wizened, soft smile on his face told Zayne that there was so much beneath the surface of his story, though he’d been shown their origin once before. Zayne had seen only imagery, a mere glimpse of Godeater falling for the dragon in his midst. He could only imagine that the connection ran deeper than he knew.

“Can you feel him, even now?” the Doctor asked, taking a thoughtful bite of his food. The Godeater’s face maintained the same fond expression as he tooled over the small portion of food in front of him.

“Yes. It’s faint, like shadows when we’re across realities; something your heart comprehends but your mind does not.” Godeater said pensively. “Right now, he’s frustrated about something. Potentially the last task I gave him in his studies.”

Zayne and the Doctor both looked at each other with curiosity, searching each other’s faces for answers for a brief moment.

“What did you leave him with?” The Doctor asked about this mysterious task. The Godeater gave a small chuckle, and the corner of his narrow mouth upturned into a smirk as he thought of it.

“I brought him a piece of intricately-woven lace, delicate in nature. I tore it in two, and then explained the principle behind repairing it one stitch at a time.” Godeater said plainly. “It’s intended to be tedious in order to master understanding of object composition. From what I have seen, he isn’t entirely fond of this exercise.”

Despite what he’d heard from behind the door, Zayne didn’t mind this company. They were earnest. They were candid. Through the eerie familiarity of their mannerisms and speech patterns, it was enjoyable to share a meal with someone else.

“Did you find anything on the Toring chip?” the Doctor asked Zayne.

Zayne shook his head, putting down his chopsticks and tenting his hands in front of his empty bowl.

“The information will arrive in a day or two. They told me that there was more than one model, is there more than one type of Toring chip in your world?” Zayne asked the Doctor. The Doctor shook his head in the exact same manner as Zayne had mere moments ago. A small, rushed motion that made his hair fall into his eyes softly.

“No, only what was standard issue within the Fleet.”

“What made you think of it?” Zayne asked him, fiddling with his chopsticks. “I’m interested in hearing your theory.”

The Doctor placed his chopsticks across his bowl delicately, gathering his words. He spoke of Caleb in his own reality, and how the Fleet had been disbanded for crimes against humanity. The Toring chip and its effect on a person’s behaviour was seen as barbary, and its existence alone had paved the legal path to putting several key players away for life by the World Evol Government.

“Caleb was awarded benefits typically extended to government military veterans, which means that the government would pay to have his chip taken out. However, they made him wait until the trial and sentencing was over; they needed his testimony and feared that removing it prematurely would interfere with his memory and recall.” The Doctor continued, arms folded. His eyes were serious, brow furrowed as he remembered.

“It took months. In that time we hardly recognized him. On some fronts, he seemed perfectly normal but when it came to her, he was obsessive. Her aethercore was highly sought after, and Caleb was terrified that he couldn’t keep her safe. He always had to know where she was, he developed a jealousy about him that made things more difficult for both of them. At one point, he was even suspicious of me despite my lack of attraction to her. He would get incredibly anxious and have bouts of anger if she did something he deemed as dangerous.”

Zayne listened intently, watching the Doctor’s face crease in a shade of sadness. It was clear that the Doctor held the trio to the same level of family as he did. Watching his best friends go through that without the ability to help must have been suffocating to the Doctor, and Zayne sympathized.

“It was obvious that he was desperately trying to love her, but the chip was designed to regulate his emotions. He found a way around it with his Evol, but if he lost concentration, even for a moment, the chip would dull his emotions and “take her away” in a sense. He was constantly fighting it. Constantly suppressing his feelings about everything else to save his feelings for her until the only way he could show his love was through deep compulsion around her safety and wellbeing to an extreme. He escalated. He wouldn’t let her leave the house without him at one point.” the Doctor continued.

“How did she react?” Zayne asked, and had a feeling that he already knew the answer. He couldn’t imagine a reality in which she’d stand for this type of behaviour. The Doctor sighed.

“Not well. She sneaked out one night, and I picked her up in Skyhaven to take her home. Caleb lost his mind, both out of guilt and the thought of losing her altogether. It wasn’t his fault, but it scared her. Badly. She was worried they’d never be together with the way he was acting, and Caleb felt out of control. Lost.” said the Doctor.

Zayne quietly cleared the table as he talked, packing up the leftovers and beginning on the dishes while he listened. Nausea and cramping set into his stomach in knots, and he couldn’t tell if it was due to the food or because of what he was hearing. The Doctor had taken to twisting the black metal of his wedding band that sat around his ring finger. The Godeater listened in fascination, unable to truly connect to the story, but clearly able to see how it had affected the Doctor.

“Given Dawnbreaker’s dreams, I’m assuming he was able to have the chip removed.” the Godeater commented. The Doctor nodded, folding his arms and straightening his posture.

“Yes. He had a procedure to have it removed, some sort of dissolving process if I remember correctly.” The Doctor said. “And then he was able to work through it. It took a while before he was comfortable expressing any emotions at all, but the compulsions weren’t as strong and he was able to seek therapy and medication to self regulate properly. It was a very long road but he managed to get his life back. Now they’ve found happiness. Their second child is due in a few months.”

Zayne was quiet, smiling at the thought of them in a place where they could be happy together. He leaned over the countertop in the kitchen as he processed the flurry of information. He couldn’t deny that much of this was so similar to Sylus’ behaviour. He thought of the wall that was nearly full with pictures and notes, all tracking his movements, his habits. When he first laid eyes on it he hadn’t been thinking clearly, but looking back on it now that he’d heard the Doctor’s story had a cold wave of trepidation running through his shoulders. If this was the truth for Sylus as well, how were they supposed to free him? Even after the fact, it’s not as though therapy was readily available to them in this place.

“This scenario seems incredibly likely.” Godeater said, chewing on the corner of his lip in thought. “It fits Astra’s signature perfectly. I’ve been trying to think of an explanation for why he would simply let Sylus live in this reality, but it makes sense. He took away Carrion’s ability to fall in love.”

The words felt like a wave of ice to Zayne, twisting into complicated thoughts and feelings. His stomach hurt. He and Carrion were not in love; they barely knew each other, and their emotional distance had led them into temptation but left no room for vulnerability or true tenderness. Still, hearing that they weren’t even given a choice in the matter affected Zayne more than he realized it would. All of those dreams of the Doctor and the Conqueror where they’d built a life for themselves or seeing the Godeater cross reality to make sure his dragon was safe…none of those would be their story. Something had ripped away the possibility from them both.

“The soul is stronger than you think, Dawnbreaker.” said the Godeater, taking note of his expression. “And so is Sylus. Don’t give up on him just yet.”

“That may be true, but we need to proceed with caution.” Said the Doctor tensely. “One key difference is that Caleb knew what was happening to him the entire time. Carrion has no idea what’s wrong with him.”

“You’re worried he’ll escalate.” Zayne said softly, feeling numb. He looked to the sorcerer. “If it is a Toring chip, can you remove it? With magic?”

“No. I don’t know the first thing about how it works. If I try magic, I could end up killing him, especially if he won’t heal instantly now that he’s without an aethercore. I’m not a doctor.” he replied. Zayne’s head perked up and both he and the Godeater snapped their attention to the Doctor expectantly.

“Don’t look at me, I’m not a neurosurgeon.” the Doctor said, suddenly uncomfortable with the attention. He held up his right hand to show off faint scars on his hand, and a slight tremble in his ring and middle fingers. “Even if I was, I can assure you that you wouldn’t want to be under my knife.”

Zayne sighed, trying to ignore a small flicker of pain in his head.

“I have to tell him.” Zayne said, taking a deep breath as he leaned on the counter. “He needs to know what’s wrong with him.”

“No. We need to be sure first.” said the Doctor firmly. “This still doesn’t explain why his obsession with you began in the first place. Before he was taken by the Fleet, he had no idea who you were. He could have fixated on anything else, but he chose you. We need to know why.”

“Then we should ask him for help. He’s a master at his craft, he might find something we can’t. He’s legend in the Rogue’s Collective for a reason.” Zayne argued, his irritation growing.

“It’s too dangerous. If he’s escalating like we think he is, he might not be able to see anything beyond his fixation on you. We need a plan.” said the Doctor, an annoyed look on his face. His jaw tightened. “Sylus is dangerous on his own, let alone without his emotional compass. He could be fighting for stability as we speak.”

“Then we should be the ones to tell him the truth, help him regulate his emotions until we can figure out how to help him.” Zayne insisted, his voice raising irritably.

“And you think you’re in a position to help him with that?” the Doctor eyed him coldly.

Zayne stopped cold. The Godeater’s eyes widened at the Doctor. It was out of line, and Zayne felt like he’d just been slapped. He straightened, ignoring the pain in his abdomen and narrowing his eyes angrily. A thin line of black frost flowed onto the side of his neck like spilled ink. It didn’t help his case, but Zayne had had enough.

“You truly don’t understand the world you’re in now do you, Doctor?” Zayne hissed, circling the kitchen island to stand in front of him, hands curling into fists. The Doctor’s mask broke and he looked like he regretted his words, but Zayne gave him no more opportunity to speak.

“I know you believe that I’m just a mindless killer because my line of work is opposite to yours, or that what you’ve seen of this world has traumatized me to inability. I assure you it has not; it has only made me adaptable.” Zayne started, his voice building in anger towards his other self. He couldn’t stop himself as he rambled venomously, black frost crawling up his wrists as he let his frustrations come to light.

“I am able to survive in this world because I am every bit as capable as you are. We are not so different Doctor, and you live in fear that you are just. Like. Me. It terrifies you because you don’t know if you believe that a killer can be a doctor who saves lives, or a lover, or a father. But I’ve seen your memories. Your hands aren’t clean either.”

“Dawnbreaker.” the Godeater interjected to stop him, but Zayne held up a hand to silence him. The Doctor was red in the face, and his hands clenched. Their expressions were nearly identical in rage, but Zayne wasn't finished.

“Know this, Doctor: You preserve lives, and I am preserving the last shreds of humanity left inside of someone before they inevitably perish. I am not a madman, I am not a victim, I am someone who does what no one else can. That is what makes us who we are, and why even a god has come to fear our name.

“Neither of us have control over what we see beyond the veil, but at least I can admit that. I am not your worst nightmare, Doctor. You are. Because you know that somewhere inside of you, you have what it takes to be me. The only way this is going to work is if you can see past your nightmares and have even the smallest fragment of trust that I am able to do what is necessary.”

The Doctor was frozen, and his jaw was set, eyes setting with outrage. He opened his mouth to speak, but shut it again as if biting his tongue. He broke eye contact, letting go of an angry breath through his teeth. Zayne watched as he regained his composure, pushing his shoulders back and picking his next words carefully.

“I should not have said that. I do not think of you as mindless.” he said. Anger laced his words, but something Zayne had said was clearly ringing true for him. He pulled at one of his cuffs to better cover his wrist, but not before Zayne noticed a hint of blue frost catch the overhead light. The Doctor stood from his chair to look eye to eye with Zayne, and his voice lowered to relay a threat. “But do not ever speak to me about my family like that again.”

They regarded each other cruelly, and all Godeater could do was watch as their mutual dislike finally came to a head. This was their fight to have, and the demi-fiend suddenly felt very out of place in this room. He wouldn’t have been surprised to see the two of them coming to blows.

“What I should have said is that we cannot underestimate Sylus. You haven’t known him for very long or seen what he is truly capable of, and I have seen what the Toring chip can do to a person. I’m only advising caution.” said the Doctor tersely.

“For what it’s worth, I don’t doubt that you’re right.” Zayne said, crossing his arms and releasing his hands from hard fists. He breathed his own calming breath, willing the frost on his neck to dissipate. “I’ll wait for the information to come in so that we can come up with some sort of plan. But the truth will come out eventually, and he might be less volatile if it comes from me.”

“Agreed.” the Doctor said, relenting with a nod. The feeling of cramping in Zayne's stomach came back to him and he shuddered under another wave of nausea. The Doctor studied his face, arching an eyebrow. “Are you alright? You look pale.”

The Godeater looked at him with a face of concern, rising to fetch a bottle of water from the refrigerator.

“I’m fine.” Zayne said tersely, losing his eyes to ride out the sickening wave. He hunched his shoulders, and sank into a chair at the table to steady himself.

“How long has it been since the last time you had solid food that wasn’t chocolate?” The Doctor asked him, studying his face, anger forgotten.

“A few months.” Zayne muttered, pressing a hand to his face and taking the cold water from the sorcerer. “The nutrient drinks are nutritionally complete.”

“Tell that to your gastrointestinal system.” said the Doctor. “I’ll go to the bodega and bring you some electrolytes. Try to rest.”

The Godeater got up to follow the Doctor out the front door.

“Knock on my door if you need anything.” he said with a sympathetic nod to Zayne. Sometimes he forgot how fragile humans could be. Zayne nodded back, but didn’t look up at them as they left. He felt horrid physically, but hopeful that the air between the two of them had begun to clear. He took a sip of his water. At least it was progress.

Chapter Text

Sylus leaned back against the desk in the warehouse, studying the collage of photos. Some were wrinkled and crooked in the places where he’d held Zayne firmly in place while they’d moaned and manhandled each other. Sylus sighed from the thought alone. Something else was eating at him. Something that Zayne had said to him.

”You don’t even know what you want from me.”

Sylus picked up his knife, fiddling with it idly in his hands. Zayne had been right. He wasn’t sure at all. Everytime he came close to putting his finger on it, it was like having a blindfold put on, or walking into a room and forgetting why he’d come in in the first place. The only singular thought in his mind was simply Zayne.

It was getting worse. The urges were spiraling in his mind. He’s yours. Lock him up. Don’t let him get away from you again. Chase him, he likes to be chased. He hadn’t made any more significant strides towards his own goals. No progress in finding his aethercore or uncovering the secrets that surrounded Zayne. It was like tunnel vision that wouldn’t go away. He was disappearing into the cat and mouse game, losing himself. He didn’t recognize himself at all. He wanted more, he wanted…something that was too dangerous to name.

He didn’t used to be like this. He used to have hobbies, things for himself. He had friends, family. It wasn’t perfect, but it was his, and now it was a memory. He’d gotten his hands so dirty with blood. This wasn’t who he was. He was careful with his thoughts, but he felt the warning of the buzzing in his head anyway as one thought broke through to the surface. I miss my old life.

But here he sat, a slave to his own mind and a monster in the closet of the only person he could think about. He grit his teeth at the urge to go find him now. Ever since the kiss in the elevator, his thoughts had escalated. He envisioned how he would kidnap the Reaper, how he’d drag him back into his bed and make sure he stayed put. How he’d never let him leave again. Sylus felt disgusted with himself. He’d been told all his life that he had impulsive thoughts, and how fickle he could be, but these were different. They went far past simple impulsive thoughts and had cascaded into intrusive, dark ones.

And so Sylus had kept his distance. He hadn’t gone by the dingy apartment building, he hadn’t cornered him in the street, he’d simply stayed away. It made him feel like a caged animal, biting and snapping as he restrained himself. He needed to get a handle on this. He checked Mephisto’s feed and found that he was still following the Captain.

He knew that Captain Xia knew nothing about A.S.T.R.A. or Sylus’ abduction, but he needed a lead. Badly. So he’d put the young Captain under surveillance to monitor his communications. Surely he was talking to someone behind the scenes. Sylus had found the candidate list in his office, surely someone had given it to him. He’d slipped the list to Zayne as well, and wondered if anything came of it. If he’d looked at it yet.

Go and ask him…

“NO.” Sylus growled, stabbing the surface of the desk he was leaning against, knife buried dangerously close to the monitoring scanner he relied on for Fleet information. He massaged his temples irritably.

The lights above him flickered from yellow-white to a deep blood-red. Sylus pulled his knife out of the desk, suddenly alert. His silent alarm was going off which meant that someone was on the property. He cursed, using his Evol to disappear and reappear at the top of a flight of stairs in front of a closed door. He flung open the door to what was once an office space that had been cleaned out to house multiple screens that Sylus used to monitor his property. His frantic eyes scanned the monitors and landed at the front entrance of all places.

There was Zayne, approaching the rusted metal of the door with purpose. He stepped to the entrance with a neutral look on his face, and scanned the area. As soon as his quick eyes made eye contact with the camera he found, Zayne pounded a fist on the door. No words came from those soft lips, but he made ferocious eye contact.

No, this was the opposite of what he needed. Sylus stayed silent and pulled out his cellphone to disable the silent alarm. Let him think that I’m not home. he thought as he fought his mind against the urges in his head.

Please. I don’t want to hurt you.
___

Zayne had had a terrible week.

On the night he quarreled with the Doctor, he had been incredibly sick into the night and the next day while his body recovered from the shock of solid food. The Doctor was kind enough to deliver him a bag of electrolyte drinks and antacids along with instant rice, which he told Zayne to eat in small batches along with half of his nutrient drinks when he was ready. Zayne wondered if it was actual kindness, or if he was simply trying to find his place in this mess and falling into what he knew when he could. Zayne couldn’t fault him either way.

Their interactions were at least less tense, and he could see a bit of the Doctor’s mask fade away a bit. Several times the Doctor seemed on the cusp of something meaningful to say, but he’d always press his lips together, break eye contact, and ask another question about Zayne’s symptoms. Zayne always responded politely. There was no need for farce anymore, and Zayne hoped that they could regard each other as equals after this. He wasn’t holding his breath, but he’d decided to give the Doctor the benefit of the doubt.

After his stomach had settled correctly, Zayne had carried on with his duty, having to track down several fully grown wanderers that he’d lost from failing to kill them as Alterum. Thankfully, the fleet had disposed of most of them, but he’d encountered one nasty winged beast that had dislocated his shoulder. The Doctor had thankfully reset it without a word at home.

As he cleaned up his own mess of Alterum and the occasional wanderer, Sylus was nowhere to be found. No games, no whispers in his ear or clues for him to find. He was just…gone. First Zayne had ignored the change. Surely Sylus had other things to do, and it would be better if he did because then the likelihood that he had a chip went down, even if only marginally. If Sylus wasn’t watching his every move, that was a good sign…right?

After a few days without the man who seemed to be his very shadow before, Zayne had grown concerned. Purely concerned, nothing more he told himself. Their connection was casual. Purely a source of tension relief. So why did his shoulders tense with nerves when he found the warehouse of brick again? Why did his fingers shake before they clenched into a fist to bang on the door?

He wanted to know for sure. He wanted to be in front of Sylus again and try to figure it out in his own mind before the thoughts of chips, or fated love or broken realities influenced his perception of Sylus any further. He wanted to see him again. It was as simple as that.

“I know you’re there.” Zayne called with a half hearted conviction. There was no doubt in his mind; if Sylus had a chip, he was suffering. The Doctor’s story had conveyed how his Caleb had suffered, behaviour that he knew wasn’t his own, thoughts that weren’t his keeping him in a cage. Was Sylus in the same cage of his own mind? He had to know.

“Please.” Zayne said, glancing up and into a surveillance camera before he thought about it. He felt as though he was being watched. Studied. He curled his lip in distaste. “I know your passcode. You have ten seconds.”

Zayne counted in his head and by the count of seven the heavy doors opened on Sylus’ form, hauling it with a glare. He looked different, dressed for relaxation in a looser fitting black sweater that dipped lower to show off his long, slender neck and sharp collarbones. His hair pulled back loosely, bangs draping around his leather eyepatch..

Seeing Sylus dress casually was akin to seeing him with his shirt off. A different layer to the person who’d been following him in the shadows. As more of him was brought to light, the more Zayne wanted to see.

“How did you get my passcode?” Sylus said with folded arms and a tense expression.

“I lied.” Zayne admitted breathlessly. Sylus scowled at him.

“You need to leave, Reaper.” Sylus told him firmly, training a crimson eye on him in a strained expression.

“What game is this, hide and seek?” Zayne meant for his voice to be patronizing, cutting. But the voice he spoke with was wavering. Sylus tried to remain stoic as he shook his head.

“No games tonight, Reaper.” Sylus said with a tight jaw. Zayne searched his face for any hint of emotion, chest falling when he found none.

“What is it? What’s bothering you?” he asked even though he knew what the answer was. He knew that the evidence pointed to the chip. He knew that he had agreed to wait to tell him. But he couldn’t keep himself from hoping that Sylus would say anything else; a head cold, a stomach flu, a bad day. Anything that would indicate that he wasn’t suffering from a chip that was trapping him inside of himself.

Zayne walked closer to Sylus, who was looking at him very carefully like a shark in the water. Zayne couldn’t stand it anymore. He had to tell Sylus the truth.

“Let me in. We can talk.” Zayne said quietly. He took a step forward to pass Sylus, but felt a bruising grip around his wrist. The grip wasn’t playful or teasing, and Sylus’ face was devoid of humor. Zayne grit his teeth in pain. “Sylus?”

“No.” Sylus said through his own strained expression. He was spiraling. The closer Zayne got to him, the louder his mind screamed at him. He pictured Zayne walking into this place like a rabbit into a trap. He envisioned tying him to the bed and watching him struggle. He pictured watching him sleep knowing that he’d never escape.

“You’re hurting me.” Zayne said, a shade of fear starting to color his voice. Sylus shook his head as if shaking free of an invisible chain. His expression looked agonized, sad.

“If I let you through this door, I won’t ever let you leave.” Sylus said softly.

Zayne jerked his wrist out of Sylus’ iron grip and took a step back. Sylus walked forward, shutting the door behind him. Zayne tensed, fear showing on his face more boldly now. The Doctor had been right; Sylus was escalating. He was at war with himself now, and Zayne saw it clearly when Sylus crossed his arms, hunching his shoulders as if to protect himself. No smile, no air of wild confidence that he usually had. Zayne felt an ache in his chest.

“I want to show you something.” Sylus said quietly. “Will you come with me?”

“We need to talk.” Zayne said. “I can help you, I think that–”

”Zayne.” Sylus said, raising his voice slightly. Zayne froze, eyebrows shooting up.

It was the first time Sylus had said his name out loud to him. It sounded like a plea, a cry for help. It sounded real. Zayne felt his cheeks tingle. A warm, soft feeling surrounding his heavy heart in a way that made him feel like crying. He was speechless. He wanted to hear it again. He wanted to touch him gently and fix this mess for Sylus. He wanted to take away his pain.

“I want you to see who I was before all of this.” Sylus said quietly, raising a hand to refer to his eyepatch. He extended a hand to Zayne. “Just a glimpse. Please come with me.”

Zayne nodded, head head feeling hazy. He took a step forward, taking Sylus’ warm hand. Sylus smelled like a warm, dark night. Traces of musk, amber and gunsmoke clung to him, and Zayne had an overwhelming desire to kiss him. Sylus engaged his Evol and they both disappeared in a dark red mist.

When Zayne opened his eyes, he saw darkness. Only the light of a waxing moon and the glitter of stars in the sky. He could see the broken skyline of the broken city around him, and they appeared to be on another rooftop. He looked up at Sylus, but had trouble making out his features in the dark. Sylus slipped his hand out of Zayne’s to feel around the panel on a generator next to them.

“Whatever you do, do not touch any of them. Most of these are incredibly poisonous.” Sylus said softly. His voice sounded more stable, more genuine and calm. Zayne was about to ask what he meant when Sylus flipped a switch, and the roof came to life under golden light.

The entire expanse of the rooftop was covered in flowers. Planting boxes that made up row after row of vibrant, spectacular color. Dark reds, vibrant purples, soft pinks, radiant whites, gentle blues. Zayne had never seen anything like it. The lights overhead were on strings, hanging from poles raised above their heads and gave off a soft, warm glow.

Zayne was entranced, walking forward to look at a planter box where a shrub-like growth had been cultivated. Small, bell-shaped purple flowers tinged green at the base grew amidst small berries that were shiny and green- still growing.

“Atropa Bella-donna.” Sylus said from behind him. Zayne turned to Sylus and found an expression that he’d never seen before on his face; fondness. He kept his gaze trained on Zayne, and the corners of his mouth upturned. “It can cause hallucinations, respiratory failure, and heart failure among other things.”

“Deadly Nightshade.” Zayne nodded, unable to break Sylus’ gaze. Sylus nodded.

“Yes. But I think “bella-donna” is a much prettier name.” he murmured.

“What is this place?” Zayne asked, starting to walk down the rows of flowers. He recognized some of them: blush-pink foxgloves, serene white oleanders. Others, he couldn’t identify. He furrowed his brow at a rosette of glossy leaves that held a light blue flower in the middle.

“It’s used by the Rogue’s Collective to make poisons and medicine.” said Sylus as they walked together. “It’s mostly the assassins that use them, but I’ve been known to dip into the supply every now and again. For the most part, I come here because I enjoy taking care of them. This was one of the first places I came after I escaped the Fleet.”

Zayne watched him talk, too drawn into his velvet voice to pay any attention to the beauty around him. Zayne saw a different side of Sylus now; someone patient enough to grow flowers, careful enough to avoid their deadly poison. He was someone who did things he enjoyed for the sake of doing them, even if there was no practical payoff for him. He was someone whose ego wasn’t bigger than his heart. He wasn’t just a killer, or a thief, or the twisted monster in his head. Somewhere, behind the walls and behind a chip, Zayne knew Sylus was waiting for him.

“I want to see your favorite.” Zayne said to him, green eyes highlighted angelically in the golden lights above. Sylus’ soft smile returned, and he motioned with his head for Zayne to follow him.

In the next row over, Sylus stopped in front of a planter box bursting with vibrant red blooms. Their petals were spidery and wild, and their color was a deep blood red. In a way that Zayne couldn’t name, it fit Sylus perfectly.

“Red Datura.” Sylus said with a smile. “It’s a deliriant that causes hallucinations, madness, unease, and even amnesia. I’ve always admired the color. It makes me feel…nostalgic in a way.”

“It’s beautiful.” Zayne said, the corners of his mouth slightly upturned. “Have you ever tried it, just to see what the hallucinations felt like?”

“Once, when I was sixteen.” Sylus chuckled, a genuine amusement to his voice. “On a dare. One of the other boys told me I was too much of a coward to eat one.”

“And you couldn’t possibly back down.” Zayne said with a teasing tone.

“Certainly not, I had a reputation to uphold.” Sylus said, tossing his hair in faux dramatics.

“So what happened?” Zayne asked him, suppressing a smirk.

“I promptly ruined my reputation.” Sylus told him. “I was an anxious mess, hearing voices that weren’t there, babbling like a lunatic. I’m sure I sweat half of my bodyweight away. I was also told that I spent three hours arguing with the flowers about Belphegor’s Prime. In Russian.”

Zayne laughed out loud, trying to imagine a young Sylus in this very spot arguing back and forth with no one over a prime number. Sylus flinched, a low buzz warning him. He calmed himself, and tried to slip back into a state of neutrality, but the sound of Zayne’s laughter ringing out clear and uncontrolled was magical to him. He hadn’t heard it before, and paired with Zayne’s smile it was breathtaking.

“Why do the Collective grow these plants on the top-side? I imagine the trips back and forth are a hassle.” Zayne asked with curious eyes as his laughter settled.

“It was a pain, yes. There were lamps and other alternatives for natural light, but there simply is no substitute for the right conditions, the warmth of a real sun, or the proper care.” Sylus said. His smile dropped, just slightly, and his gaze softened, as if remembering something.

Zayne watched a light breeze catch the ends of Sylus’ hair, silver outlined in gold like a halo. Something else clicked into place for Zayne; his care for Zayne’s jasmine, repotting it and watering it, stopping Zayne from crushing a dandelion that grew out of the sidewalk.

“You grew up in Diyu, underground, didn’t you?” Zayne said softly. Sylus nodded. “You appreciate flowers that can grow in the sun because you never had the chance to do the same.”

Sylus looked down at Zayne’s lips, and his hands twitched with the desire to touch him.

“Neither did you.” Sylus murmured, brushing his fingers against Zayne’s cheek.

Zayne tipped his head to kiss Sylus, but stopped. His eyes fluttered open in surprise when Sylus moved the tips of his fingers to Zayne’s lips to halt him. Zayne felt his heart clench at the look of yearning, desperate, quiet desire on Sylus’ face. His mouth was pulled tight, and his jaw was stiff as if he was in pain. He looked Vulnerable.

Zayne stayed there, watching him as he closed his eye and swallowed. He raised a hand to circle Sylus’ wrist with his fingers, keeping him in place to lay a soft kiss to the tips of his fingers.

“Sylus, do you feel anything in this moment?” Zayne murmured. Sylus nodded, eye still closed.

“Yes. More than I’m allowed.” he whispered. Zayne kissed his fingers again gently.

“This isn’t the first time that we’ve kissed. What has changed?” Zayne wondered aloud. Sylus’ eye fluttered open to consume him again in a look of pure yearning, and Zayne thought he could just make out a sheen of moisture at his waterline.

“Because it’s not just a kiss anymore.”

In a world that wasn’t theirs, this would have been a date. In any other world, this would have been a crush or a fondness. Their kiss would have been the perfect foundation to grow from. But in a city broken by monsters and oppressors, they would need to figure out how to grow between the cracks in the concrete in order to greet the sun.

“You’re bleeding.” Zayne said as a small line of blood leaked from Sylus’ nose and over his lips. Zayne reached into his pocket to search for something to help Sylus clean his face, but Sylus engaged his Evol to dissolve it. He looked back at Zayne, determined to not let this steal the moment away from him completely.

Sylus moved his hand from Zayne’s lips to the back of his head, and brought their foreheads together. Their noses almost touched, and their breath mingled. They were so close together, and yet impossibly far away.

“I have to tell you something.” Zayne said, swallowing his sorrow and his nervousness.

“Can it wait?” Sylus asked him. “I just want to be here right now. I don’t want to forget what I’m trying to feel. Just stay with me here for a while.”

Zayne swallowed, and stayed silent. He brought his shaking hands to circle Sylus’ waist, and pulled him just a little closer.

Under the glow of dreamlike gold and surrounded by beautiful weapons, all was silent, and Sylus had a moment of peace.

Chapter Text

Zayne poured over the information that had finally come in on the Toring chip. The sun was up already but he hadn’t found it in him to sleep for the night. The heavy folders were thick with papers describing the two types of chip and how they worked, hardware associated with them both, and development notes. It had been worth the money and the wait, and Zayne couldn’t stop reading.

He breathed a sigh of relief, reading that the Toring model wasn’t standard issue among ground troops, and tended to be reserved for higher clearance individuals. That means Caleb was likely safe from a chip for now. He’d need to show this to the Doctor and the Godeater, and a nervous feeling gnawed at his belly. There was no doubt in his mind that Sylus had been chipped, but getting it out of him was going to be very difficult.

A knock came to the door, and Zayne pulled himself away from a sketch of the first model to answer it. He furrowed his brow at the sight of the Doctor looking back at him.

“Can I speak to you?” he asked tensely.

“I feel fine, Doctor. The rice is sitting well with me.” Zayne said. The Doctor didn’t drop his gaze and held up a clear airtight container that was mostly empty, but held five brightly colored macarons. Zayne eyed his peace offering for a moment and stepped aside to let the Doctor in.

The air was incredibly awkward between them. Zayne waited for the Doctor to speak, and the Doctor seemed to be searching for the words to say. Zayne crossed the room to sit on his couch and folded his arms, guarded. The Doctor followed and sat on the opposite end of the couch, opening the container and setting it between them.

“I’m typically better at this.” Said the Doctor tersely. “Speaking to myself is still very odd.”

“Just say what you came here to say.” Zayne said impatiently, eyeing him with distrust. The Doctor nodded.

“I’d like to help you with your Evol.”

“Don’t patronize me, Doctor.” Zayne said, mouth pulling into a deep frown.

“I am not.” The Doctor held his ground. “I just understand. The frost, the feeling that you can’t even have a weak moment to yourself without some sort of destruction around you. It’s stifling. I had a mentor to help me when I was younger. And I was petty enough to ignore the fact that you didn’t.”

“I don’t need your pity.” Zayne said, shoulders hunched and guarded. The Doctor shook his head.

“It isn’t that. The Godeater has been trying to help me get to the bottom of the dream at Mt. Eternal, and I realize now that you and I had an equal hand in our connection to each other.” The Doctor went on. “I dreamed of that day intensely for so long. Blood on my hands, my closest friend passing in my arms after I…”

The Doctor paused, gathering himself in the wake of the memory. His hands balled, and he swallowed to steady himself.

“You did what you had to do.” Zayne said softly. The Doctor didn’t meet his eyes. There was still a part of him that wondered if there was any other way. Zayne could empathize with that.

“And I blamed you.” the Doctor admitted. Zayne arched an eyebrow. “When I saw you in that dream, just staring, I thought you were me. I thought that you were every dark part of myself. I had no idea at the time that you were a completely separate person; the only person who could relate to me, in fact. You became my perfect scapegoat.”

“It was easier to blame me than yourself.” Zayne said, mouth pulled into a light frown. The Doctor nodded.

“You were a metaphor for every mistake I’ve made, life I’ve ended, failure I’ve experienced.” The Doctor raked a hand through his hair. “And then you came to life.”

“The nightmares.” Zayne acknowledged.

“Yes. Suddenly you weren’t simply a metaphor, but a flesh and blood person whose purpose seemed to be the very thing I’ve been trying to run from in my own mind. You were right in what you said; I never hated you, I only feared myself.” The Doctor pinched the bridge of his nose. “I’m sorry. I haven’t been remotely kind to you since I arrived. You are not a villain, and that is exactly how I have been treating you.”

Zayne studied the Doctor in front of him. He hadn’t expected an apology, and it made him uneasy as he examined his own side of things. Where Zayne had been the Doctor’s utter nightmare, the Doctor had been Zayne’s torment of a different kind.

“I haven’t been your biggest fan either.” Zayne mumbled. “You have everything I’ve ever wanted. At first it was a reprieve to see through your eyes. You’re so loved, well-liked. You’ve been able to chase your passions. You’re free. And I came to resent you for it. Envy you for the life you have.”

“You’ve only seen the positive moments, then.” the Doctor chuckled.

“And you’ve only seen my tragedy.” Zayne replied.

“Unlike the sorcerer, we can’t just show one another the entire story can we?” The Doctor muttered, biting into a blue macaron. “We mortals have to rely on talking about it.”

Zayne sat up straight, an idea coming to his head.

“Maybe not. You and the Godeater have been working together, yes?” Zayne asked, tone rapid and eyes wide. The Doctor cocked his head.

“Yes. Meditation mostly. It’s slow-going; I’m having a rather difficult time figuring out my place in all of this.” the Doctor said carefully, trying to make a connection. Zayne understood the feeling.

“When I was trying to control the instances of switching places with you, I practiced looking into his memories. I think we could try the same thing.” Zayne explained.

“Which of his memories did you see?”

“Unimportant.” Zayne said, looking away as the tips of his ears reddened. “My point is, if we can share a mind connection, even through memory, it could be beneficial. At the least we’d have a better understanding of each other.”

“And at best, we would have another weapon in this fight.” The Doctor said in agreement. “It’s worth trying.”

Zayne explained the concept of intention just as Godeater had before.

“Should we call the Godeater?” the Doctor asked him. “The concept is simple enough, but a mind connection, couldn’t something go wrong?”

“I suppose we could but as long as your intention is clear, the greatest risk is seeing something you wish you hadn’t.” said Zayne.

“I suppose you and I run that risk every time we fall asleep.” the Doctor mused, setting the container of macarons aside on the coffee table.

“Indeed.” Zayne moved to the carpet of the floor to give the Doctor room to lay down.

Zayne and his counterpart had their eyes closed, relaxing into their positions. Zayne reached out with his mind as he had with the Godeater the last time they’d tried this exercise. This time, the vision came to mind gradually instead of all at once. Now with more experience, Zayne was able to slide into his role as a passenger in the Doctor’s mind with much less discomfort.

The scene in the Doctor’s memory was harrowing. The Doctor stood in a ruined room where a fight had taken place. There were bodies littering the floor around them, and bullet holes decorated the walls. It looked like a war zone, and the Doctor looked completely different from his normal polished and pristine appearance. His hair was disheveled and messy, shirt torn and filthy. There was a horrendous burn mark around the base of his throat, and tears streaked his dirty face. Zayne could feel his pain as he looked at his Sylus, his horror and desperation filling his lungs.

Sylus, the mighty Relentless Conquerer, was also a sight to behold. Zayne recognized the patterned markings on his body as belonging to a dragon, but the thick black pieces that grew around his face, torso and arms weren’t scales at all; they were crystals. The Conquerer was an Alterum.

In his clawed hands, he was summoning a bright burst of red-black energy. He looked longingly at the Doctor and then spoke to someone behind him. Zayne knew that the Doctor was meant to run, to escape, but he felt the Doctor walk forward instead, hand outstretched, trying desperately to get to his love.

“Get him out of here!” This Sylus shouted, and two men in masks came forward to start dragging the Doctor back despite his wild attempts to break free and the screams that came from his chest.

A deep pressure bore down on the Doctor, pressing him into the floor to keep him from advancing, and Zayne recognized it immediately as Caleb’s Evol. The red energy in the Sylus’ hands continued to grow. Zayne felt the Doctor claw at the ground hard enough to break his fingernails as he cried out.

“He needs to try, and you have to let him.” Caleb said gently. “He can’t do this if you’re right there. We need to go, Zayne.”

This time the Doctor didn’t fight the arms that looped around his arms to pull him to his feet and usher him away. Sylus and the Doctor shared one final look. Sylus gave him a reassuring smile, but his eyes glistened with his own tears.

Zayne felt the Doctor’s heart shatter at the fear of the unknown.

___

Zayne’s eyes opened as the vision ended. He took a deep breath, steadying himself after what he’d just seen. He couldn’t get the image of the crystals on Sylus’ body, or the Doctor’s heartbroken face out of his mind. He looked up at the couch where the Doctor was coming to as well, and Zayne’s eyes landed on the light scar around his neck. The Doctor sat up, face soft from his own vision. Zayne wanted to give him a moment to process, but he needed answers.

“I saw Sylus as an Alterum. How is that possible?” Zayne asked, a disturbed look on his face. Pain flashed in the Doctor’s eyes.

“That the worst day of my life.” he said quietly. “Sylus had been infected with a serum that created Protocore Syndrome. He was running out of time, and he had to save himself with his Evol. An explosion of energy. He’s lucky to be alive.”

Zayne sat with the pain he’d felt from the Doctor. They were more alike than he’d expected. It was foolish to assume that his life was completely perfect, or that he had no problems of his own. All Zayne had seen up until then were snapshots. The happiest times of his life.

“What did you see?” Zayne asked him. The Doctor smiled faintly.

“Your family. You gave them both a birthday.” he said. Zayne mirrored the Doctor’s faint smile. He hadn’t thought about that one in quite some time. “What’s more impressive is that you gave them both the correct birthday. Tell me, were you also born on the fifth of September?”

“Correct.” Zayne said in surprise. He chuckled to himself, leaning over to finally take a macaron out the container that sat on his coffee table, and a burst of cinnamon filled his tastebuds. He chose not to think about the utter coincidence of the dates he’d chosen at random. He’d have to ask the Godeater. “Where did you get these?”

“Sylus sent them with me.” the Doctor said, twisting his wedding ring appreciatively. “They’ve been keeping well enough in the freezer and refrigerator.”

“He thought of everything. He dotes on you.” Zayne said thoughtfully. The Doctor nodded, looking back up at Zayne.

“We’ll save him, Dawnbreaker.” said the Doctor reassuringly. The tone sounded odd coming from him when they’d been so at odds before. Zayne bit down on the last of his macaron and got to his feet to retrieve the papers he’d been staring at when the Doctor had knocked on his door.

“I hope so. I think I've found what’s wrong with him.” Zayne said, handing him a programming writeup. “There are two models of the Toring chip that we know about.”

“A “Pawn Chip?” The Doctor said, confused. “We didn’t have this model.”

“Then I think we can assume that it came from the A.S.T.R.A. division, and it makes perfect sense. Sylus told me what it stood for.” Zayne scrawled the name on a fresh sheet of paper to show him. “Applied Strategic Technology for Retaliatory Adversaries.”

The Doctor stiffened. It seemed personal, targeted. Like a taunt. The Godeater was not going to like this.

“As for the Pawn chip, it has one key difference than from predecessor. It was designed to transmit information subconsciously. Typically a hard-coded mission or existing information such as locations and names. Even images.” Zayne explained, crossing his arms uncomfortably. He hated to think of what this was doing to Sylus. “It was intended to be used for high level clearance missions; if your enemy caught you, you wouldn’t be able to give them any information.”

“What was his mission?” The Doctor asked him, scanning through the pages with interest. It was insidious, a perfectly hidden instrument of a god disguised as high level intelligence gear. He shuddered to think about how Carrion was handling the feelings of loss of control.

“I’m not sure. But if this theory is correct, he might not know either. It’s hard to say.”

“If they gave him a mission, then Carrion didn’t escape his captors.” the Doctor said carefully. “They let him go. Made him think he’d escaped so he’d be none the wiser. He’s probably still missing memories from that encounter.”

Zayne cringed. That notion wouldn’t sit well with Sylus at all. He let out a frustrated huff. His body felt tired and a headache began to bloom behind his eyes. He pinched the bridge of his nose and sank onto the couch next to the Doctor. There was so much that he needed to wrap his head around.

And what of his friend who was still out there? If they had chipped Sylus, was she chipped as well? Was this part of the plan to curse Zayne in every reality to suffer? All roads led back to the Fleet, and to A.S.T.R.A.

“How am I supposed to tell him all of this?” Zayne said quietly, raking a hand through his hair. He felt suffocated, drowning in information but no idea what to do with it next. “How do I tell him about all of this?”

“We should talk to the sorcerer. He might have some insight.” the Doctor reassured him, but Zayne still looked agitated. “I don’t know that I’d be able to sit on this information either.”

“It’s going to be a lot for him to handle at once.” Zayne said miserably. The Doctor offered him the last macaron with a smirk.

“He can handle it. In every universe, Sylus laughs at the impossible.”

Zayne took the bright pink pastry and nodded thoughtfully. A feeling passed between the Doctor and Dawnbreaker. Perhaps they were not yet friends, but they’d laid down their arms. Both were still full of questions, but they felt much more comfortable with each other’s presence.

“Then so shall we.” said Zayne.

___

“What do you mean it’s all gone?” Caleb seethed, standing up from the chair behind his desk and glaring at the officer giving him the report.

“I mean it’s not simply re-classified, someone removed every mention of Dawnbreaker from the system. Backups too. We have no electronic records of him on this network at all.” said the officer, trying to maintain a brave face as he stood at attention, datapad in hand.

“Is Cyber-Opps asleep at the wheel? How was the network hacked?” Caleb asked, gritting his teeth in a deep frown while he struggled for composure. The officer in front of him was saved by the sound of a call coming in on Caleb’s communicator. Caleb felt his blood run cold. He swallowed, waving the officer out of the room and gave himself a moment to clear his throat before he answered the vid call.

“Good afternoon, Major.” Caleb said, keeping his face neutral and his posture strong

“What the hell kind of operation are you running, Xia?!” The Major shouted at him angrily.

“I take it you’ve heard about the breach, sir.” Caleb said calmly, defaulting to the monotone he’d taken on as a soldier. His cheeks burned with embarrassment, and his hand clenched.

“Oh, I’ve heard about the breach, I’ve heard about the items missing from your armory, and I’ve heard about the fact that you haven’t managed to find Dawnbreaker.” The Major said through his teeth. “Gain control of your sector, Captain, or someone else will. Bring in Dawnbreaker.”

“With respect sir, this doesn’t exactly fit Dawnbreaker’s M.O.” Caleb said at attention. “I hesitate to call him a suspect in this case.”

“Well I don’t. Who else would have the interest in deleting that data? You heard me, Captain Xia. Bring. Him. In.”

Caleb swallowed, trying desperately not to react at all. He knew Zayne hadn’t done this. He was at least decent enough to buy his information on the black market like everyone else. His mind flickered to the man who’d assaulted him in the alley, and his threat. That was the more likely culprit. But now he was stuck in a spider’s web, between a rock and a hard place.

However, if Caleb could arrest Zayne, it might draw out his protector. Caleb trained his eyes forward at the Major.

“Yes sir.”

Chapter Text

Zayne lounged on the couch, mind blank as he watched a medical drama on TV. Today’s re-run featured an absurd plotline about the surgical removal of a live explosive in a patient’s chest. It was ridiculous, needlessly sappy, and perfect for letting his mind rest. He popped another chocolate into his mouth. This hospital is comically unprepared in the event of a bomb threat. he thought with a roll of his eyes.

While his body felt fine, it had been another day of study with the Godeater, and this time he was working directly with the Doctor. They had worked on establishing their mind link, an idea the Godeater was more than glad to take them through. Sensing thoughts, carefully identifying feelings and memories, and interpreting them correctly had taken time. The Doctor had even helped him attempt to scry for his missing friend, reaching out to try and sense her familiar energy. Ultimately the exercise had been fruitless, as they had only succeeded in conjuring memories of her, but their skill was slowly growing. Still, it left them both fatigued and ready for time to decompress in their respective corners.

Zayne felt himself on the cusp of dozing off when a sharp noise came from the window. He was on his feet in a moment, hand raised and ready to fire a hard rain of ice. Stepping silently towards the blackout curtains, the shrill sound of his window being forced open grinded in his ears. He lowered his hand and let out a frustrated scoff. He crossed his arms, waiting for the red-black mist to materialize in his living room.

Sylus appeared in front of him, ripping his mask off of his face with an irritated huff. His gaze was wide and urgent and his jaw was pulled into a tense grimace. Zayne dropped his own irritated expression to question him; something was clearly wrong.

“Why do you bother keeping a cellphone if you refuse to answer it?” he hissed. He was breathing heavily, and his forehead glistened with sweat as if he’d run all the way here. Zayne made a tch sound with his teeth, his reflex to respond faster than his concern.

“The better question is why should I bother keeping a front door if you refuse to use it?” Zayne cut back.

Sylus ignored his tone, shuffling papers and research off of the table to shoulder off a large dufflebag. His fingers shoved the folder containing information on his chip away from him to make room, and guilt clenched at Zayne’s stomach; he had his hands on the answers, the truth of what was plaguing him, and he didn’t even know it. Turning back to Zayne, he showed him a slim recording device and pressed play.

The sound of Caleb being dressed down by his superior on a speaker call filled the air. Caleb was being reprimanded for crimes that took place in his sector including theft, a network breach of some sort, and for letting Dawnbreaker go. Finally, Zayne’s eyes widened when he heard Caleb agree to his arrest.

“I didn’t do any of that.” Zayne said incredulously. “Even Caleb knows that, you heard him.”

“I know you didn’t.” Sylus said quietly. His tone didn’t drop or show signs of shame or guilt in any way. “I did.”

Zayne stared at him. What crimes Sylus committed were no care of Zayne’s, but what was special about this one?

“Why do they think it’s me, then? Why aren’t they out looking for you?” he asked.

“They have no evidence or camera footage to go on, but the last thing I did in the breach was delete every trace of you from the system. They think you did it yourself.” Sylus explained evenly. “Ground Patrol has already doubled their efforts in this area. I think he’s serious, Reaper. They don’t care if you’re innocent or not, they just want you in chains.”

Zayne pinched the bridge of his nose in frustration. Sylus was impulsive, always pressing the envelope and it was beginning to be a problem. Zayne knew why his impulses were so scattered, and another tendril of guilt seized at him.

“Caleb won’t do anything.” Zayne said with a sigh. “He’ll keep up appearances, but that’s it.”

“You don’t know that.” Sylus argued. “He’s one of them.”

“He wasn’t always.” Zayne sighed. “And we have a deal. He keeps Ground Patrols light at night for me to work, I allow Ground Patrol to take care of things during the day. All of those summons, all the posters and campaigns to arrest me are just appearances. Surely you noticed how none of them contain my name.”

“He’s hurt you before.” Sylus said quietly, thinking of his threat to Caleb after his altercation with Zayne. He knew enough about Zayne to know that he’d never raise a hand to Caleb himself, and enough about Caleb to know that the sentiment wasn’t returned.

“He’s angry. He’s still my family.” Zayne said, crossing his arms, and breaking their eye contact. “I’m not ready to turn my back on him.”

“You can’t count on family.” Sylus gripped Zayne’s arm assertively, trying to force his eye contact. “Believe me. It isn’t impossible for the people you love to turn on you.”

Zayne watched his face, picking up on the way Sylus jaw tensed just enough to give away something under the surface.

“That’s what happened to you, isn’t it?” Zayne said softly, reaching to touch the dark leather of his eyepatch. This time it was Sylus’ turn to look away, and he flinched from Zayne’s touch. He removed his hand from Zayne’s arm and backed up to put distance in between them.

“This isn’t about me.” Sylus said shortly. “It’s about you. I don’t want them to hurt you too.”

“I’m right here. I’m not going anywhere. I’ll lay low while they double up patrols, and then everything is going to go back to normal.” Zayne assured him softly. Sylus shook his head, fighting himself to stay calm.

“You don’t know what The Fleet will do to you if they catch you. Family or no. I’m not even completely sure what they did to me.” he said, raking his hand through his silver bangs. Zayne felt the tendril of guilt snap inside of him. It was now or never. His heart thudded in his chest, his mouth felt dry.

“I do.” he said quietly. Sylus looked back at him, confusion blooming across his face. As Zayne moved to gather a stack of papers together. “I know what they did to you.”

Sylus took the stack from him, eyeing him with an expression as perplexed as it was skeptical.

“The headaches, the impulsiveness…your emotions.” Zayne told him. “I think they chipped you.”

Sylus felt his blood go cold as he scanned the documents and notes in front of him. He had to stop when a feeling of overwhelm started to crawl across the back of his neck, and a headache bloomed fresh behind his eyes.

“Why would they possibly do that?” Sylus shook his head, trying to complete a puzzle with pieces he didn’t possess. “Why not just kill me when they took my eye? This doesn’t make sense.”

“To get to me.” Zayne said. “I think they wanted you to do something to me.”

Sylus searched his features for any hints of a joke, a game. The cold feeling continued to spread as he remembered the man he’d tortured in his warehouse.

”He said they put a mission in his head.”

Sylus remembered the first time he saw Zayne’s face in a photo after tracking him down for searching for him. He remembered that his first thought hadn’t been to touch him, or to admire him, it had been to kill him. It had been so subtle, so natural-feeling he hadn’t even thought to question it. He remembered failing his “mission,” and he remembered the sick obsession that had grown in its place. He looked at Zayne now as if he were a stranger once again.

Sylus had always known there were secrets between them, things they didn’t wish to say aloud. He’d spent so much time now wondering about Zayne and what he did when no one was looking, or why he was looking for the same enemy. He knew that eventually they would need to talk or come to some sort of understanding, but the game they both played with each other and the disturbance in his mind had distracted him as if binding his hands together with the ropes of his obsession. He wondered when Zayne had stopped being just a mission or a compulsion. A faint tickle at his nose made his lips twitch as a small drop of blood ran down his face.

“Who are you?” Sylus looked at Zayne with a sense of dread. He looked almost fearful, as if the confines of his mind were beginning to scare him.

Zayne could feel his heart twist at his pain. It was the first time Sylus had ever looked afraid of anything. He turned Sylus’ question over in his mind, trying to work out how to answer his question. He felt Sylus’ grip on his arm again.

“Please. Tell me why it’s you.” Sylus breathed, staring at him with pleading eyes.

Zayne took a deep breath, and nodded. He wasn’t sure where to start or even if he’d be able to explain it all properly. But Sylus needed answers. Zayne nodded towards the couch in an invitation to sit. Before he could say another word, a crackle of static rang out from the scanner in the corner.

“Sector Enforcement, this is Ground Patrol. Requesting emergency medical aid for injured officers. Dawnbreaker is in custody. Repeat: Dawnbreaker is in custody. Enroute to headquarters.”

The air was very still for a harrowing moment. No static, nothing.

“Copy that Ground Enforcement. Backup is on the way for escort, dispatching medical now.” said Caleb’s voice, crackling through the static. Fake, authoritative, devoid of emotion.

Zayne’s face went pale and a cold numbness tingled through his face. He swallowed thickly, mind racing over what to do. He stood, walking forward to his front door.

“If it’s not safe for you to leave, you can stay here.” Zayne said, reaching for the doorknob with shaking fingers. He heard heavy boots cross the room behind him.

“Tell me what’s happening” Sylus said. “It’s your brother, isn’t it?”

“Stay here.” Zayne said dismissively as he opened the door. Sylus let go of a frustrated snarl before closing it again in front of Zayne with an irritated scoff.

“If you’re going to headquarters, I know the building. I’m the one who did this, remember?” Sylus said. “Now tell me what’s going on so I can help you. You’re so relentlessly stubborn.”

His voice wasn’t crooning or flirting in his usual tone. It was cold, commanding. Serious. Zayne bit his lips. Even if he didn’t get the sense that they needed Sylus’ help for this, he knew that the King of Thieves would not back down. Zayne exhaled and turned around to face him. Fine.

“The person they’ve apprehended is not me, but they aren’t going to have any explanation for why not. He has my face, my fingerprints and my blood. They’re going to question him as if he were me. He is not my brother.” Zayne started.

“The man with the tattoo?” Sylus questioned. He was having trouble following Zayne’s logic, but the pleading look on his face was begging for him to just believe what he was being told for now.

“Possibly.” Zayne said, walking past Sylus to retrieve a pair of sneakers as though it had been an afterthought of the initial shock. “Depending on who it is, it could be very difficult to retrieve him.

“‘Possibly?’ How many of you are there?” Sylus sputtered.

“Three.” Zayne said, trying his hair back and not bothering to change out of his joggers. “If you can withstand some of the strangest things you’ve ever seen, we'll answer all your questions. I should have taken you more seriously about Caleb. I don’t know what he’s doing.”

“I should have hit him harder.” Sylus said, some of the humor falling back into his voice despite his confusion. Now it was Zayne’s turn to look confused, wondering if Sylus was serious. Then he remembered Caleb’s cryptic message to him from weeks ago. His eyes narrowed.

“You didn’t.” Zayne hissed at him, returning to his feet to stare him in the face.

“It was only a punch.” Sylus shrugged. Once again, completely unapologetic and wearing a smug expression.

“Still assault.” Zayne said, doing his very best to conceal a smile and a chuckle. He knew that Sylus was grasping at straws to refocus himself, to deflect any of the complicated feelings that could trigger his chip. He ached, wondering what thought could possibly be like for him. “I need to figure out who we’re missing first so we can come up with a plan.”

Sylus followed Zayne out the door to one across the hall and to the right. He watched Zayne pound on the flimsy wood, calling for the “Doctor” to no avail. Zayne hissed, his stress level growing as he moved to the next door to knock as loud as he could.

This time, the door opened to reveal the man in a fitted tshirt and jeans that Sylus had seen before. The red tattoo-like marking was vibrant against the soft skin of his forearm, and he wore a pair of short leather gloves despite his casual attire, which made Sylus quirk an eyebrow. He felt a shiver run down his spine at how identical he was to Zayne. If this wasn’t a twin, then how could this possibly be?

“Did you need something? Oh.” he said, eyes widening when they caught sight of Sylus. For a moment, his gaze lingered on Sylus’ face as if he knew him already. A silent conversation made up of tight glances between the two identical men erupted between them before Zayne spoke.

“Do you know where the Doctor is? He’s not here, is he?” he asked plainly. Zayne’s double stepped aside to let both of them in, closing the door behind him.

“No, he said he was going to drop by the convenience store. Why?”

“The Fleet has him. They think he’s Dawnbreaker.” Zayne said. He raked a hand through his hair. “We just heard on the scanner that they arrested him, it’s possible he’s booked already. We need to get him out before they decide to move him or interrogate him. Sylus knows the building and access points already. If we leave now, we might be able to just slip him out.”

“I’m going to guess that there wasn’t much opportunity for a full explanation.” said the doppelganger, eyeing Sylus’ overwhelmed expression.

“It’s not the sort of thing you can summarize in five minutes.” Zayne said, crossing his arms. He glanced at Sylus. “This is the Godeater.”

“Your given name…is Godeater.” Sylus said slowly.

“No, it’s Zayne. Please try to keep up.” Godeater said sardonically. Sylus felt another uncanny shiver through his shoulders.

“He even speaks like you.”

“Tell us how to get into Headquarters.” Zayne said. He placed a hand on Sylus’ arm. “Believe me, this is not how I wanted you to find out.”

Sylus nodded, glancing between the two of them.

“I have the blueprint saved on my datapad.” Sylus said, nodding towards Zayne’s apartment. He forced a confident smile that didn’t quite reach the red of his eye. “Don’t fret, Reaper. This is what I do best.”
___

Sylus was good at many things. He was good at acquiring blueprints for a secured building. He was good at pinpointing strengths and weaknesses in infrastructure and using them to his advantage. He was good at pattern recognition. He was good at improvising. He was fantastic in bed. The skill that he was most grateful to be good at in this moment was compartmentalizing.

He watched the two near-perfect copies of the same man speak back and forth with each other in hushed tones as he re-checked the security cameras inside from their hiding spot on the top of the building. Getting here had been easy with Sylus’ Evol, and he was currently examining their best route of escape. He knew they needed to extract the Doctor as quickly as possible, but without a method of escape, even the best plan would be for nothing.

Initially, he’d asked why bring the Godeater at all, too many people on the same job could turn things unpredictable very quickly and there was no need for two people with the same ice Evols. Without saying a word, the other Zayne had raised a gloved hand and cast some sort of sigil, tracing a silver pattern in midair and drawing out a very long sword to display his ability. Sylus had grinned at the possibilities.

The current state of chaos was oddly perfect to distract him from the flood of information he’d received all at once. It was also helping him not to focus on the overprotective urge to teleport Zayne across town and away from the building full of the same people who called for his imprisonment. He focused on the HVAC component mounted to the roof in front of him and followed the blueprint to a spot he’d picked out on a previous break in; the ventilation. Was sturdy, strong enough to hold him, but he wasn’t sure how it would do with three people of similar heights and builds. He chewed his lip and caught Zayne looking at him anxiously. He sighed. They’d have to risk it.

Sylus rejoined the group and briefly explained his thought process; they’d sneak in with Sylus’ Evol and land in the vent system above Caleb’s office. Because of the high-profile arrest, it was safe to assume that the Captain would be performing the interrogation, and his office offered a one-way glass viewing window of a private interrogation room. Sylus had checked the security cameras in the holding areas, and with no one in sight, it was the most likely location.

They would check to ensure they were alone, and then wait out the interrogation to wait for the perfect moment to distract the Captain and the guards so that they could recover the Doctor and go back the way they came in. In theory, it was simple, but Sylus knew all too well that things could always go terribly wrong.

“There’s always the possibility that we need to fight our way out. Are you prepared to accept that?” Sylus asked both of them. They both answered in an affirmative that made Sylus’ skin crawl with how identical it sounded.

Zayne looked at Sylus as he walked away to fix his gas mask to his face and dig through his duffel bag before rising to check the pockets on his tactical pants like this was routine for him. A subtle warmth bloomed in his chest. Maybe it was appreciation, or simply gratitude for what Sylus was doing to help them. Something deep inside of him seemed to call to the man in front of him, and was wretchedly sorrowful that Sylus couldn’t respond to him with that chip in his head. He wanted to see more of this side of Sylus. The one who wanted to help, the one who just wanted to speak honestly with him. Next to him, Godeater cleared his throat.

“I’m going to tell you something that no one could have possibly told me.” the Godeater said to him earnestly. “That feeling you have right now in your heart? The tingle in your lips when you really look at him? Your first instinct will be to fight your heart and tell yourself that you can never have what you desire. Ignore that instinct. Save yourself the agony and the time and destroy the part of you that tries to convince you that he’s out of reach.”

“But he is out of reach.” Zayne said, tapping on his forehead.

“Not forever. We’re going to figure it out. Don’t give up on him.” Godeater said.

“What if I don’t want him? What if I don’t feel anything at all for him? Am I expected to just follow your pattern anyway?” Zayne said obstinately. The Godeater chuckled.

“Of course not. Your story is unlike any other. Don’t look at mine or the Doctor’s as a rubric.” he said, looking to where Sylus was polishing a long knife. “But can you really tell me that you feel nothing at all for him, even right now?”

Zayne didn’t answer. Godeater didn’t need him to.

“Is everything in place, Carrion?” the Godeater asked, walking forward and leaving Zayne to gather his thoughts.

Mere minutes later, they were inside the vents above the sleek office that belonged to the captain of Sector Enforcement. Sylus seemed to have thought of everything. He placed a signal jammer to protect them from cameras and panic buttons and had looped the cameras outside in the empty hallway. Zayne was impressed watching him live up to his titles in the underworld. When Sylus was satisfied, he placed his hands on both of his accomplice’s shoulders and used his Evol to teleport into the room.

“As expected of a child of the Abyss.” Godeater said with a nod. Sylus looked to Zayne for context and Zayne simply shrugged. Sylus supposed it sounded close enough to a compliment.

Just as Sylus had said, a glass window provided the perfect view of the next room and both of the people inside from a side angle. The Doctor was tied down to a sitting position in a chair whose metal cuffs had been modified to restrain his arms behind his back as opposed to the arms on the sides in case he attempted to last out with his Evol. His clothes were disheveled; his cream colored sweater was wrinkled and dirty with a heavy splatter of sticky, drying blood up the front of it. Judging from the lack of obvious open wounds, save for the split in his lip and the swelling bruise on his cheek, Zayne guessed that the splatter of blood did not belong to the Doctor. His expression was calm and stonefaced, but there was a fury in his eyes that reminded Zayne of the way a viper looked before it struck. A collar of some sort was fixed around his neck, and two wires fed from the sides, connecting to a machine with red and green-shaded bulbs, both dormant for the moment. A lie detector test.

Caleb stood in front of the Doctor with a heavy baton in hand, looking incredibly uncomfortable. His eyes were widened and unsure, and his jaw clenched as he thought of what to say next. He seemed torn between giving the brass a good show and the utter confusion at who the man in front of him actually was. His violet eyes lingered on the scar at the base of his neck, partially covered by the test collar he wore now. Caleb might have been at odds with Zayne, but he was far from stupid. The man in front of him might have had Zayne’s face, but he was positive that this was not his childhood friend.

Zayne saw Caleb’s mouth move to finally speak, and Sylus leaned forward to flip the speaker switch and listen in.

“Who are you?” Caleb said, voice trained and cold but his face looked genuinely curious. The Doctor’s haunting expression did not change.

“My name is Zayne.”

A light lit up green instantly. Truth. Caleb looked like he wanted to say something, to argue with his identity, but moved on.

“Are you the one who’s known as Dawnbreaker?” Caleb asked evenly.

“No.” Said the Doctor.

Truth.

“Were you involved in the breach upon this facility recently that included the destruction of Fleet documents and theft of property?” Caleb asked.

“No.”

Truth.

This was going better than Zayne could anticipate. He was simply coasting by giving the truth in short bursts, and the confusion he was breeding would only help their cause.

“I’d like to remind you that lying in a Fleet-authorized line of questioning is strictly prohibited.” Caleb said, glancing at the green light on the test.

“Then it is fortunate that I am telling the truth.” the Doctor retorted simply. “Perhaps it is time to admit that your men have arrested the wrong man.”

“Don’t push your luck.” Caleb hissed, eyes narrowing. “Dawnbreaker or not, you have injured three of my men. One of them is in critical condition.”

“Your men were prowling the streets looking for anyone who fit a vague description. They forcibly removed my face mask and attempted to restrain me based on an identification that was dubious at best. It is reasonable that I defended myself.” the Doctor answered tersely, voice raising just enough to tell Caleb how little he cared for his injured men and veiled a new threat against him. “I suggest that you cut your losses and let me go.”

“We’re not even close to being done here.” Caleb snapped back, baton gripped tightly in his hand. The door to the room opened, and an officer walked in. No one on the other side of the glass could quite make out what was whispered to Caleb, but Caleb straightened and he frowned, perplexed.

“Why is the Colonel here?” he asked the officer in surprise.

Chapter Text

Zayne watched from the other side of the glass as Caleb put his baton down on the table behind him. He cast an eye to the door, no doubt counting down the seconds until the Colonel would arrive. Caleb leaned forward to unfasten the neck attachment and mood reader to the lie detector machine and spoke softly in his ear as he went.

“I know you’re not him. I don’t know why the Colonel is here or what’s going on, just pay nice until he leaves and I’ll come up with something.” Caleb said with a furrowed brow.

The Doctor stared at him with the same furious gaze he had before, and Zayne could see that he’d already frozen through his restraints enough to make them brittle. A blade of ice held tightly in his hand, prepared to drive it through the throat of anyone who’d lay another hand on him. He gave a terse nod to Caleb. Not one of trust or thanks, only acknowledgement.

“Dawnbreaker.” the Godeater murmured behind Zayne. “The mind-link. Try it now, try to tell him we’re here, just like you practiced.”

Sylus gave them both a sideways glace, but said nothing as Zayne shut his eyes, concentrating on a message for the Doctor. The door to their minds were nearly identical in feeling, relatively easy for Zayne to find if he knew what he was looking for. His heart was thrumming in his chest, and it was hard to reach that relaxed state of meditation that he was used to.

”Are you injured?” Zayne drifted the thought across his consciousness. Through the glass, he saw the Doctor’s head perk and his eyes darted around the room briefly before he understood what was happening.

”No. I’m fine.” the Doctor assured him silently. ”Is the sorcerer with you?”

”He is, Carrion too. We’re going to get you out of here as soon as the Colonel leaves.” Zayne promised.

”Carrion!?”

Before Zayne could respond, the door handle to the interview room moved, and the door swung open. Caleb went rigid, standing at attention as a very decorated soldier walked into the room. The Colonel stood tall with a broad chest and had a mighty, commanding presence. Despite his intimidating aura, the man looked ancient.

Caleb had heard the stories; the Fleet expressing desire multiple times to take him out of power, but his brilliance was unmovable. He’d brought the Fleet into a new era of power over thirty years ago, helping them to establish an iron dominion and toppling the local governments in Linkon and beyond while circumventing the World Evol Government. He was too valuable an asset to lose. There was also a rumor that the old guard was afraid of him; that every time someone tried to force retirement on the aged Colonel, they ended up simply disappearing.

He was a harrowing sight. His skin was more grey than anything, marked with spots of aging and stretched over his bones like an old man despite being in his mid-sixties on record. His milky eyes looked impaired but seemed to see everything. Gnarled hands were hidden under gloves, and when he spoke it came out as a rattle, deep and scratchy.

Zayne felt the Godeater tense, balling one of his fists and running his fingers over the leather book holster strapped to his thigh. He stared straight ahead as if he felt something powerful. Something that was putting him in a state of intense discomfort. His teeth were buried in his lip and his eyes were narrowed and watchful.

“Well well, Captain. Let me commend you on a most excellent job capturing this renegade.” the Colonel said with a yellow smile. Caleb swallowed, eyes staring ahead.

“Thank you, sir.” he said robotically.

“At ease, Captain.” The Colonel chuckled, eyeing Caleb up and down as if sizing him up. “Keep it up. Who knows? Perhaps one day you’ll be wearing this Colonel’s uniform.”

“Appreciated, Colonel.” Caleb acknowledged.

It made Zayne sick to hear Caleb so compliant and submissive to the Fleet. After all they’d been through as children, all the beatings and hardship that were directly caused by the Fleet, he sounded just like one of them. Zayne’s stomach twisted.

Sylus had his arms folded, eyeing the Colonel. He remembered him. Sylus had picked his pocket as a boy, but that was nearly two decades ago. Some of his features were still the same; the shape of his eyes and nose, but now he looked as though his body was decaying around him.

The Colonel approached the Doctor calmly, lanky arms folded behind his back with a sickening smile on his face. The Doctor stared ahead, meeting his gaze fiercely. He clutched his weapon hard, and struggled to keep his face relaxed and neutral.

“Don’t insult me, Zayne. Put it away.” the Colonel said, smile slipping into a small frown.

The Doctor stiffened, searching the Colonel’s face for any indication of how he might have known. The Doctor dispelled his pike of ice with a turn of his wrist and the smile flashed back to the Colonel’s face.

Zayne glanced at the Godeater, and his eyebrows shot up when he noticed the sorcerer pulling off his gloves. Zayne had never seen him without them. He looked on with interest at his hands; on all ten of his fingers, the skin from knuckle to fingertip was black, as if he’d dipped his hands in ashes. Godeater was grinding his jaw, and a face of pure hatred was beginning to bloom across his face.

“Hmm…” said the Colonel, examining the Doctor with interest. “Not the Zayne I expected to see in front of me today, but who am I to ignore gifts from fate?”

“What are you talking about?” the Doctor said, a snarl concealing his deep unease.

“I’d planned on your world next, but today seems as good a day as any to handle simple pest control.” the Colonel’s smile was wide and manic.

“Colonel?” Caleb interjected with a confused expression.

The Godeater’s eyes glowed green. He was certain now. Zayne and Sylus watched in horror as shallow claws formed at the tips of his blackened fingers.

“It’s Astra.” he growled, voice deep and full of rage. He raised a claw to draw a silver sigil.

“What are you doing?” Zayne said in shock. “Zayne, don’t.”

“I am sorry. But I cannot waste this opportunity.” the Godeater growled, not looking at either of them. “Step back.”

That was the only warning they got before the Godeater swiped at his sigil brutishly, and blew a hole through the glass and plaster of the wall as if he was scratching through paper. Sylus lunged for Zayne, bringing a hand to his head and pulling him under his body to protect him from debris.

Inside of the interrogation room, Caleb shielded himself with his arms against the rubble and glass, but couldn’t quite get out of the way of a large piece of stone striking him in the side of the head. He fell, fumbling for his weapon, dazed and trying to focus his sight. The Doctor was far enough away from the blast, and turned his head away, squeezing his eyes shut in case of flying glass before he pulled at his brittle restraints to break them and stood up. The Colonel straightened, no time to respond to the force that was lunging straight for him.

Godeater sprinted into the room to grab at the Colonel’s uniform with savage strength and throw him with minimal effort into the stone wall of the interrogation room. The old man coughed, choking on both dust and laughter as wounds in his paper-thin skin began to close. Godeater flicked his wrist, using an unseen force to throw the Colonel through the hole he’d made and into the Captains office before sprinting after him again, picking him up by his neck, and driving him into the wall again.

A roar came out of the sorcerer that vibrated the walls and toppled books on the shelf. Gutteral, primal with a slight pitch to it like a leopard shattered out of his chest in pure, unrepentant hate. The humans in the room all shuddered and took an involuntary step back at the terrifying image in front of them.

The Godeater, their wise, pensive sage of wisdom and instruction was a completely different person in this moment. Zayne felt himself recoil at the sight of incredible violence at his hands, and the wild, animal look on his face. His lips were curled away from his teeth to reveal a set of short but deadly sharp fangs. His nose was ridged as he roared in the Colonel’s face, deep and ferocious like a lion with a hint of something even more dangerous. It was unearthly, monstrous. Zayne suddenly understood why he was called “Godeater.”

“Godeater.” Astra in the Colonel’s body laughed jovially in a taunt. “I was wondering if you’d found my little slice of paradise. Tell me, how is your mongrel these days, my broken tool?”

This time, Godeater’s roar was cut off by Astra, summoning a great force to throw the demi-fiend off of him, sending him crashing into Caleb’s desk violently. At seeing the Godeater get back up, Sylus grabbed Zayne’s arm and teleported with him into the interrogation room to find the Doctor.

“I didn’t know he could do that.” The Doctor said breathlessly, eyes wide in shock. He had a few new cuts on his face, but seemed to be otherwise fine. “What are we meant to do, here?”

“If he’s taking the opportunity, we need to help him. All of us together.” Zayne said with a nod.

“If we’re going to escape, this is a perfect opportunity.” Sylus argued.

“Of course. Are you volunteering to present that option to the Godeater?” Zayne hissed in a caustic tone, pointing with his chin towards the fight. Sylus winced at the sound of another roar and sighed, shaking his head.

“Fair point.” he conceded.

The three ran back into the office to see a god and a demi-fiend going blow for blow together.

”With ice, up against the wall.” the Doctor suggested inside of Zayne’s mind. With a nod, Zayne raised his hands in unison with the Doctor to combine black ice and an ice tinted blue to knock back the god and keep him from using another round of psychic energy on Godeater.

Astra grunted, his physical body spitting blood at the force, and braced himself against their attacks, lashing out with his hand to summon vines of thorny brambles to tackle them both to the ground with another pulling Godeater down by the neck.

Sylus drew his knife from his boot and teleported to catch the god off-guard. He appeared behind him to deliver a brutal kick to his feeble back, knocking him over and breaking his concentration of the vines. Godeater used Abyssal magic to dispel the shackles of thorns and nodded at his two counterparts.

“Once more!” he shouted, and Sylus got out of the way right before the triple attack of ice that pushed Astra back into the wall successfully. A beam of black ice secured his legs, soft glacier blue contained his torso, and a brilliant white-silver beam of ice from Godeater contained his hands, arms, and shoulders. Godeater addressed the others. “Stand back.”

Sylus looked up to see Caleb, bracing himself on the broken wall and aiming his weapon straight for the Godeater. Quickly, he used his Evol to summon the weapon right out of his hands and teleported behind him to press it against the back of his head. Caleb raised his hands automatically, slumping over against his post.

“The only reason you’re going to stay alive today is because it would bring our dear Reaper great pain to see you dead. Last warning, fleet-skeet.” he snarled, slamming the butt of the pistol to Caleb’s head in a specific area of the back of his head to knock him unconscious. He examined the damage to the building. So much for a silent in and out mission. Now they had very little time before reinforcements flooded the room.

In the next room, Godeater looked into those cruel and malevolent eyes knowing that the source of all of the suffering in this world and the last was behind them. This was it. This was the moment he’d been waiting for. The very last thing standing in his way of a peaceful life curled in the arms of his dragon. He extended his claws on the right hand and waved away the ice surrounding his heart. He vaguely heard Astra talking to him, but the blood pounded in his ears and he heard not a word of it as he sunk his claws deep into Astra’s chest.

Immediately, the powerful tidal wave of magic consumed the Godeater, and he threw his head back like a beast to taste it in his very soul. But something was different. This wasn’t the pure diving magic he’d pulled out of Astra when he’d nearly taken his life the time before; now it was laced with something very very familiar. Rough, raw like a serrated knife as it flowed into him and found home. The Abyss. Godeater glanced at Astra in disbelief, who was struggling to hold on. He knew this power as well as he knew his own lover.

He’d consumed Carrion’s aethercore. With a weak, sinister smile Astra stared back. A slithering sensation feathered at his mind. Familiar, and something that the Godeater had rejoiced that he’d never need to feel again.

”How I’ve missed our little chats, my broken tool.”

“No…” the Godeater whispered, green eyes going wide in terrified shock.

The Godeater went pale, face going numb as his chest started to heave. The slithering coldness of Astra’s mind touching his flooded him, clawing and heckling him as if it had never left. A flash of memory reminded him of punishment, all the times he’d been put to sleep, strung up by thorns, impaled, bled…his concentration stuttered and buckled for just a moment, but it was all Astra needed.

He summoned enough force to crack his icy barrier and force the Godeater to stumble back, and the ice crackled around him as the old man’s body stepped forward weakly. In a second, weapons of ice were back in the hands of Zayne and the doctor, and Sylus raised his weapon, firing several rounds into Astra’s frail body, throwing him off balance.

This time, the brambles came from the walls, pinning Zayne and the Doctor in place and binding their hands. Astra grinned as he flicked a hand to send Sylus flying back and reached for the Godeater, pulling him up by the neck and holding him in the air while claws swiped and begged to scrape at his bleeding chest.

Zayne watched on as Astra summoned a ball of pure white energy, growing it larger and larger while Godeater struggled. He found himself shouting, but he wasn’t sure what for. Next to him, the Doctor struggled with his own binding, choking on the band of thorns around his neck. Zayne’s mind was scrambled, his lungs heaving with anxiety as he tried over and over to freeze the thorns around him. He sent a desperate look to the fight in front of him and for a horrible second, he was sure that all would be lost.

A whistle sounded across the room as a large Bowie knife sailed by from the next room to bury itself in Astra’s chest. Sylus skulked back in, dislocated shoulder popping back into place. He used his Evol to dissolve the thorns around the two men to his right as Astra stumbled. Godeater toppled to the ground, holding his throat with a deep cough and the energy blast in Astra’s hand fizzled out.

Astra made a choked, hacking noise in his throat, and couldn’t seem to regain his balance. Angrily, he stared around the room of people ready to descend on him and looked at Sylus with an enraged glare. He’d lost.

“It’s always you, you impudent monster.” he rasped at Sylus, standing to his feet with the shambling reminiscent of a rotting corpse. He wrapped his fingers around the blade and slowly pulled it out to throw at Sylus feet. He fumbled for something in his pocket, taking out some sort of remote or key fob. “It appears that your chip isn’t working as intended. You can never do one thing you’re told, can you? I think this has gone on long enough. Try not to fail this time, demon.”

Astra pressed the red button on the remote, and the effects were instant. A screeching pain surged through Sylus’ mind. The thief couldn’t hear, he couldn’t see or stand, and his knees buckled to the ground as he roared in pain. He could vaguely hear Zayne calling his name and felt the sensation of hands on his shoulders as he crashed to the ground, but the only thing he could truly comprehend was agony.

Astra covered his horrifying chest wound with a garbled hand and stepped back to avoid a final swipe from Godeater’s claws. With another invasion of his mind, he stopped his former servant in his tracks.

”I have all the power in this world, Godeater. Blood and war are coming. You should have stayed in your place.” came the hissing slide of Astra’s voice. Godeater felt his stomach flip and his lips shake. He areached out for one more attempt to grapple him, but all he could do was stare in pure hate as Astra waved a hand to disappear in a plume of red-blue mist, slipping through his fingers uselessly.

On the ground, Zayne took off Sylus’ mask in hopes it would help him breathe. He didn’t know how long they had or how they were going to get out of this room, but the only thing that mattered was making sure that Sylus woke up. The Doctor slid down next to him, pressing fingers to his neck to get a pulse, trying to assess what might have gone wrong.

Sylus heard a click like a switch flipping in his thoughts as he awoke. He looked to Zayne’s terrified expression and frowned slightly, as if trying to remember something.

“Carrion, are you alright?” the Doctor asked, concerned as Sylus sat up.

In a blindingly fast motion, Sylus tackled Zayne to the ground, knocking him on his back and straddling him while his large gloved hand wrapped around Zayne’s neck.

The Godeater was petrified, trying to steady his breathing as his claws slid back into place and his heart rabbited in his chest. Astra could see into his mind through his barriers again. He swallowed at the thought, trying to wrap his mind around it when he saw the Doctor hit the ground, tossed to the side by Sylus.

Zayne struggled underneath Sylus, scratching at his arms and hands savagely, summoning a frost to try to knock him back, and missing Sylus as his vision danced. He tried to cry out, tried to call to Sylus, and no words would form out of his closed windpipe. He had just started to black out when Sylus’ grip went slack, and his body fell to the ground beside him, unconscious.

The Doctor stood over him, holding a club-like shape made of ice and tinged in blood. He offered a hand to Zayne, who was coughing and hacking, trying to regulate his breathing once again. He stood, wobbly on his feet and looked down in shock at Sylus.

“He reset his chip.” Zayne rasped with another cough. “Sylus’ mission was to kill me.”

“We have to go.” Godeater said with a shaky breath, getting to his feet. He looked angry, incredibly so, but a deep regret had him twitching his jaw.

“They’ll have this place surrounded, and we need to move Sylus.” Zayne said.

“Perhaps we should leave him, come back for him.” the Doctor suggested.

“We don’t know what else they’ll do to him!” Zayne said defensively, eyes pleading.

“None of it matters if we can’t get out of the building.” the Doctor said. “Let’s start there.”

The Godeater unclipped the buckle for the holster on his thigh and drew out a blue book.

“I was hoping to avoid this route, but we don’t have a choice.” he said, flipping to a page in the middle of the book and raising a hand, drawing a large circle in the air with a blackened finger.

They heard footsteps and shouts from down the hall as a large portal opened up in front of them, glowing in pure gold.

“Let’s go.” Godeater said heavily. “Bring Sylus. We’ll live to fight another day.”

The Doctor hesitated, but swore under his breath as he helped drag Sylus’ dead weight towards the golden portal, taking a breath before entering with Godeater close behind.

The portal closed just as boots entered the room and circled the unconscious Captain on the floor of his ruined office.

Chapter Text

The golden light of a magically-made sun nearly blinded Zayne as they toppled through the portal. Zayne tripped, falling over in a plush bed of flowers with his hands holding Sylus’ unconscious form tight. He sat up, eyes adjusting to take in the beautiful field of flowers. It was an ocean of soft white and scarlet red, jasmines and datura. Zayne tensed, pulling Sylus’ head into his lap to bring his face away from the red flowers.

“They won’t hurt you.” Godeater said softly, as if he had no more energy to give. “They’re a part of this place. Magically made.”

Zayne vaguely remembered this place from the Godeater’s point of view, shown to him through memories on the night they met. They had once been windows to memories, but were now doorways to different worlds entirely. A magical breeze swept his hair across his face and wicked at the stinging cuts on his bruised neck from thorny brambles.There was only silence, save for the deep breathing of three defeated men.

The Doctor’s chest pounded with fear. He’d seen the memories, he’d been told about the threat, he’d analyzed what it would mean to fail. But seeing it up close, feeling the reality of the fight, being threatened by a god…his stomach turned as the adrenaline wore off. Astra had marked his world as next in line for the suffering and hopelessness he’d brought to Dawnbreaker. His chest clutched, thinking of Sylus, Isolde, the rest of their family. A few yards away was a metal post, marking where the Doctor’s jasmine was in this field of memories. His lips trembled with the desire to run to it and not look back, but he looked to the Godeater for their next course of action.

Godeater was no better off. He pressed his hands over his eyes, sliding them up to his forehead to rake through his hair. His failure tasted bitter on his tongue. He had been right there. He’d been on the cusp of killing his former master and tyrant once and for all…again. If he hadn’t been so weak, perhaps he would have succeeded. If he hadn’t succumbed to Astra’s tricks maybe things would be different. Absorbing Sylus’ aethercore had made the vengeful god privy to the Abyss, and Zayne felt a deep resentment; how could the tides of chaos tolerate such a being? How dare Astra try to commandeer the same Abyss that had welcomed him home?

Zayne cradled Sylus’ head in his hands. With mournful eyes he stared at his peaceful face. It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fair that they hadn’t had their chance to meet each other properly. It wasn’t fair that Sylus had his home, his family, and an important piece of him taken from him by petty betrayal and the wrath of a god he did not know.

Zayne’s heart ached in his chest, and his eyes glistened with tears at his waterline. Seeing Sylus in so much pain when all he’d done was try to help their cause had broken something in Zayne. Something deep inside of him wanted nothing more than to fix this, to repair the broken world and hold on to hope for Sylus. He brushed silver bangs away from his unconscious face. Even if they could never have what his counterparts had, he had to win for Sylus.

A spot of earth not too far away caught Zayne’s eye. A bald, bare patch of earth in a perfect circle among the flowers that surrounded them. One lonely jasmine, encased in a frost of blackened ice stood in the center. Next to it, something was growing. A sprout of green, small and delicate was the only thing to keep the jasmine company in this space.

“This one is mine, isn’t it?” Zayne said, motioning to the barren patch beside them.

“Yes.” said the Godeater, approaching the circle and crouching down to examine the sprout. “But this one is new.”

“Is it another jasmine?”

“I do not know.” said Godeater.

Nearby, a sharp cracking sound sounded. All three of them snapped their heads towards the noise and witnessed a gold flash of light forming a tall gateway. The Doctor immediately summoned a bow of ice and nocked an arrow to point at the portal. Zayne summoned a black shield, fanning it out over Sylus and held up a hand to ready a shot of ice.

“Stand down. Both of you, lower your weapons!” Godeater shouted breathlessly, taking off into a sprint towards the golden gateway. Tears formed at his eyes as he ran, suddenly full of energy, towards the golden light. He stopped just short of the gate to allow a tall figure room to enter the field of jasmines.

Sharp scarlet eyes softened. Clawed hands closed a book and tucked it away in a leather satchel. A long tail quivered in excitement. A dragon surged forward to hold his mate in his arms.

Their lips met, and it felt like they’d never been apart. Godeater cupped his dragon’s face while Sylus, Sovereign of the Abyss, pulled him close. His tail wrapped around his waist and claws raised to rest over his shoulders. His Sylus kissed at his jaw and nosed at his neck, taking in the scent of his beloved after being away from him for so long.

“What are you doing here?” Godeater whispered, touching their foreheads together, chest aching as he tried not to give into tears of utter relief. His body relaxed, and he finally felt safe within the arms of a dragon.

“I felt you. Your soul was screaming first in rage, and then in despair. I needed to find you.” the Sovereign murmured. “Are you hurt, beloved?”

The dragon looked over his mate with care; face, neck, hands. Godeater shook his head.

“No. I’m unharmed.” he said hoarsely. His voice shook. “It’s Astra. He’s gotten hold of a means to access the Abyss. I was so close to ending it, but he saw into my mind just as he did before. I failed.”

“No.” Sylus said instantly, pressing his lips to his temple. “You survived, and now you know more than you did before. Your victory is coming, beloved.”

God eater squeezed his eyes shut, trying to steady his emotions. This was what he needed. His soul radiated sadness at the realization that he couldn’t stay in this embrace forever. Ashen fingers wound between claws, and Sylus found himself led to the others, taking in bloody faces and discouraged eyes.

It was still very uncanny for Sylus to see his mate’s face on another person, even more so on two separate people in front of him. But the strangest sensation of all was to see his own face on someone else. Sylus kneeled on the ground next to the unconscious man held in Zayne’s arms.

“This is Carrion. They took his eye, and placed something in his head to control him.” Godeater explained. Sylus looked down at his counterpart with a frown.

Sylus extended his claws, looking to Zayne for permission before he continued. Zayne wasn’t sure what his intentions were, but he knew he could trust him. He gave a small nod. Sylus closed his eyes, and the tips of his claws thrummed with scarlet red energy. Zayne watched him, staring at the red gem at his chest glowing with magic. It was the same gem he used to hold in his hands and pin to his chest. He’d ached to lose it, but now a new hope had formed: he didn’t need to attach to someone else’s reality because his own was right in front of him, however damned it might be.

Godeater looked on, and glanced up at the Doctor, who had his arms folded in thought.

“You should return home for now.” he suggested. The Doctor shook his head.

“If he wakes up and tries to kill Dawnbreaker again, what then?” the Doctor asked. “And what of Astra? You need all the help you can get.”

“What we need is to lay low until we can figure out what to do.” Godeater said. “We need that chip out of Carrion before we think of confronting Astra again. I need you to speak to your Caleb about how his chip was deactivated, see if there’s a way to do it without a procedure. More importantly, you need to see your family. I’ll come for you in a few days.”

The Doctor chewed on the inside of his cheek. More than anything he yearned for his husband’s touch and his daughter’s smile, but he felt as though he was abandoning his other selves in a time of need.

“Go, Doctor.” Zayne said, looking up at him from his place on the ground as Carrion slept and Sylus worked his magic. “Go hold your daughter. We’ll be okay.”

The Doctor didn’t fight it this time. He simply gave Zayne one final look of empathy.

“Just be careful.” he said. “I’ll find out everything I can.”

Godeater watched the Doctor walk into the distance towards the marker at the jasmine that would bring him back to his own home. The time away would do him some good after a near-death experience. His heart fluttered in jealousy, but he tried to shelve it away for now. He looked back to his mate, who was dissipating his magic.

“What do you see?” asked the Godeater.

“His connection to the Abyss is significantly weakened because of his eye. It still exists, just faint now. He’s going to have to strengthen it over time. He feels like many parts of him were torn out of him at once, and he searches for meaning.” Sylus reported, tail swishing back and forth. He glanced at Zayne. “His connection to you is what disrupted the intruder in his mind. Unable to end your life, he was consumed with you instead. His soul is trying to answer your call, but he can’t break through the intruder’s influence.”

“Then mix them. Combine our souls.” Zayne said suddenly. “Like you did with Godeater. Let me carry some of it for him.”

The dragon shook his head.

“Admirable, but the wounds alone would kill you both. Even if that weren’t the case, your connection isn’t strong enough to withstand something so powerful. You want to protect him, but you do not love him. Not yet.” said Sylus. “That is a power neither of you can force; it blooms of its own will.”

“Can you at least get that thing out of his head?” Zayne pleaded. He feared he already knew the answer even before Sylus shook his head.

“Not without hurting him. He will not heal fast enough. Magic is too unpredictable a tool to use when his mind has already been so heavily tampered with.”

Zayne sighed heavily. He felt useless, and the answers felt so far away from his reach. He breathed out a sentiment of thanks, mind numb.

“His wound has healed, but I ensured that he’d stay asleep for another day. That should give you time to move him.” Sylus said, getting to his feet.

He looked towards his mate with a heavy soul. Everything in him wanted to bring his love home. He wanted to care for his worried mind and his broken heart. He felt the ripple in their soul-bond from Godeater as well, mimicking the sentiment. They both knew that the longer Sylus stayed, the more difficult it would be to leave. Sylus pulled the Godeater in for another long kiss, unaware of how long they’d be without another after this. His heart broke when he felt hands on his chest, fingers stroking the scales on his cheek and his tail hung low to the ground.

“You have the power to end this, don’t ever doubt that. You’ve accomplished so much already, don’t lose yourself now.” Sylus whispered to him. “Come back to me victorious, beloved.”

“wux jilg sia gra'kul.” murmured the Godeater, letting the words of dragons flow from his tongue. You hold my heart.

“coi ui sia rasvim.” replied Sylus, pressing a kiss into his hair. It is my treasure.

Sylus brushed his clawed fingers over Godeater’s cheek, and then reached for the brown book at his hip. His eyes stayed trained on his mate as he turned the pages to the middle before he disappeared in a shower of gold sparks.

Zayne gave his counterpart a moment to collect himself. He couldn’t take his eyes off of Carrion, trying to process the dragon’s words to him. His heart radiated sorrow to know that Carrion was trying to answer his call, but couldn’t. Zayne’s fingers gripped at the soft cotton of Carrion’s shirt, and he swallowed with resolve.

“My apartment is likely being watched, but I know where we can go.” Zayne said after a moment. “Carrion has a place; hidden and secured. I just don’t know how we’re going to transport him without being seen.”

“That, fortunately, has the simplest answer.” Godeater said, taking the blue book out of his holster. “I can go, and come back for you both when we’re in position.”

“It’s better if I go, I know the way. I can dodge the Ground Patrol more easily.” Zayne said. “Is it simple to do?”

“A book like this has two possible pathways; the point at which it is used last, and a point accessed through a door. At present, the only door to your world is through your apartment. The last place the book was used was in Headquarters.” Godeater explained.

“So all I need to do is get to Sylus’ warehouse and use the book again.” Zayne confirmed.

“Correct.” Godeater handed Zayne the blue book. “Do not let this out of your sight. Not even for a moment. It’s the only method we have of accessing the field of jasmines, and it’s very precious to me.”

Zayne examined the worn cover. Enter Eternity was the title. It appeared to be a book of poems.

“Of course.” he promised. He cast a long look at Carrion. He was a perfect vision of peace, his sleeping body framed in red and white flowers. “Watch over him for me.”

___

Caleb held the ice pack to his temple as he signed a release form from the paramedics. He groaned from the dull pain rippling along his skull. He was definitely concussed, but aside from the two headwounds he’d received and some bruising from flying plaster and glass, he was unharmed. He handed the clipboard back to the paramedic, who shuffled out of his destroyed office.

He sighed as he sat back in his desk chair surrounded by rubble, trying to piece together exactly what had happened here tonight. The Major had called for an explanation, but Caleb wasn’t making any sense. Every time Caleb opened his mouth to tell him about the three intruders and the person mistaken for Dawnbreaker, he stopped himself. All he managed to get out was that the officers had picked up the wrong suspect. The Major had grunted in frustration, and blamed his incomplete story on his concussion, telling him to get some rest.

He couldn’t get the image out of his head; three Zaynes, one with fangs and claws pinning the Colonel’s frail body by his neck into the wall. How the Colonel had simply bounced back with ease despite his decrepit stature. They way the Colonel had threatened the man in the interrogation chair as if he was a pest to be crushed. None of it made any sense. Who was the enemy?

He knew he was eventually going to be interviewed about this night, but he had no idea what to say. Should he tell the truth, which would put Dawnbreaker at risk? He brought a gloved hand to the bridge of his nose. No matter how angry he was at Zayne, he couldn’t just turn him in like that. But what was the truth, anyway?

“Good to see that you’re in one piece, Captain.” came a scratchy, hollow voice, interrupting Caleb’s thoughts. Caleb’s eyes flashed open to see the Colonel standing in front of him, looking extremely tired with his back hunched over, but not a mark or a scratch anywhere to be seen, including his uniform. His mind stuttered like a broken engine, trying to comprehend. He hadn’t even heard the old man come in.

“Colonel.” Caleb choked out in surprise, shuffling to his feet to stand at attention, but stopped with a wave from his superior. He couldn’t help but stare at the clean uniform the Colonel wore, acting as though he hadn’t been put through the ringer merely hours before. “You were attacked, are you not injured?”

“Thank you for your concern Captain, but my injuries are minimal. I’ll receive treatments back in Skyhaven.” said the Colonel good-naturedly. He brushed some of the debris away from Caleb’s desk. “You know Zayne, don’t you Captain?”

A chill ran down Caleb’s spine. It was as if the Colonel’s dead-looking eyes could see deeper, reading his face expertly. He chose his words carefully.

“I…did.” he said cautiously. The Colonel nodded as if he already knew the answer.

“And yet you raised your weapon to protect me.” he drawled. “Take heart, Captain. You’re a near-perfect soldier; the instinct to protect your leader despite the bonds you once held…that is what will make you great.”

Caleb tried to control his face but a deep unease coursed through him, warning bells going off in his mind. It hadn’t meant so much to Caleb at all. He saw a person with fangs and claws attempting to kill the Colonel. Simple as that. He hadn’t even been aiming to kill.

“Permission to speak, sir.” Caleb said with trepidation. The Colonel waved his bony hand to prompt him. “What happened in here? Why were there three of them? They all seemed to want you dead.”

The Colonel chuckled, voice rattling out of him dryly like sandpaper.

“Above your pay grade for the time being, Captain.” he said with a yellow smile. His tone was condescending, almost pitying as if Caleb was simply incapable of learning. “There is much below the surface of your current understanding. All you need to know is that they are the enemy. Threats to the very world around us as we know it.”

Caleb swallowed, wanting to ask for him to elaborate, but found himself dissuaded by the haughty air and cryptic answers he’d received so far. More than anything he just wanted this conversation to be over.

“Have you ever considered retaliatory services?” the Colonel asked him, dull eyes trained on his face. Caleb shook his head.

“I’ve never given it thought.” he said honestly. “I go where I’m stationed.”

“Good soldier.” said the Colonel, back in that degrading tone of voice that signified authority. Like he was speaking to a pet. “Get your sector in order, Captain. We’ll meet again very soon.”

The Colonel turned on his heel and strode out of the office, his walk unbothered, and shut the door behind him. Caleb was left with a half-melted ice pack and more confusion. He got to his feet, chucking the melted bag in the trash and wiping the drops of cold water from his face. Caleb frowned, clenching his fist. He needed answers, and he wasn’t going to back down until Zayne started talking.

Chapter Text

Zayne appeared in his living room in a dizzying flurry of gold. His head pounded and his mouth felt dry. He raised a hand to his neck, flinching at the sting of thorn scratches and deep bruising that was beginning to turn a dark purple where Sylus had choked him. He was exhausted, and there was still so much work to do.

“Are you alright?”

In an instant, Zayne had a black spike of ice summoned to his hand and he turned to hurl it towards the voice coming from the kitchen table. Caleb dodged the pike with wide eyes, and Zayne’s frown deepened. Caleb looked like hell; uniform crumpled and dirty from a fight, hair disheveled, a wound at his temple dressed with butterfly strips. His balance seemed unsteady, and he sunk down to one of the chairs at the table tiredly. Zayne had no sympathy, and scoffed at his presence.

“Here to arrest me, Captain?” he sneered. Caleb cringed. He deserved that.

“I know you didn’t cause the breach.” Caleb said quietly. “I wanted to draw the actual suspect out. I wasn’t gonna keep you detained.”

“I would be touched if I believed you.” Zayne snapped. “What do you want? I’m not in the mood to fight with you.”

“I wanna know what happened tonight. Why there were three of you, why the Colonel thinks you’re the enemy, and why you want him dead.”

“And what do you think? Do you think I’m the enemy?”

“No.” Caleb said softly. Hos voice dropped to a mumble. “I know you’re not. I don’t think you ever have been.”

Caleb felt naked, completely exposed and ashamed in front of Zayne. Hearing the Colonel talk about Zayne like a terrorist, a threat to the world, had felt like waking up. He’d felt his insides curl defensively at the very idea that Zayne was doing anything without a good reason. But it’s not like I’ve been any better. he thought with regret. Still, his stomach twisted in knots thinking of Zayne freezing the Colonel to the wall. All he wanted were answers.

Zayne eyed him suspiciously, as if he were waiting for Caleb to turn on him. He mulled over Caleb’s question in the back of his mind. Of course Caleb would want an explanation for what had just happened in front of him. Zayne could even see reason in telling him in the event that the Colonel tried to get into his head first. He wanted so badly to trust Caleb, to have his best friend back…but he couldn’t. Not after everything.

“I can’t trust you.” Zayne said quietly, voice full of hurt. “You’ve made that abundantly clear.”

“I can’t help you if I don’t know what’s going on, Zayne.” Caleb’s eyes pleaded with him. “At least give me something I can use to tell the brass when they ask me what happened.”

“Why should I do that, Caleb? Why should I tell you anything after the stunt you pulled? I have tried to stay out of your way, I have tried working with you, but you have made it very clear that we are not on the same side.” Zayne lashed out.

“I never stopped covering for you. All the sightings, the brass getting on my back, questions about why night patrol was so light.” Caleb defended, his cheeks burning. “I told you I wouldn’t stick my neck out for you, but it was just to get under your skin. This time was different. They said they’d replace me, and I panicked.”

“You went back on our agreement. I know you were being pressured by your higher ups, but really, Caleb? Are you out of your mind?” Zayne seethed. “We were family once. I am not ready to give up on you completely, but perhaps it’s what I need to do to protect myself from your new family.”

“The Fleet is not my family. And you want to talk about staying safe? How about the person who broke in and incriminated you in the first place? The one who assaulted an officer in broad daylight? Or your other friends who tried to kill the Colonel of the Farspace Fleet?” Caleb snarled. “I have no idea what you’re doing anymore and I can’t cover for you if I don’t know what’s going on.”

Zayne set his jaw, and a new anger quickened his pulse.

“How many times have I tried to speak with you only to end up on the wrong side of your fist? How many times have you reminded me that we aren’t friends?” Zayne shouted. “I was there for you every day growing up, and I have never used it against you. I tried so hard to make sure that both of you had a home called “family” to come back to but I was a child too! And the one time that I needed you to listen to me and try to understand through one of the biggest regrets of my life, you kicked me into the dirt. How can I believe anything you say now?”

“I’m sorry.”

Zayne froze, the next line of his vitriol disappearing from his mind. He narrowed his eyes suspiciously. Caleb’s eyes glistened in frustrated tears, and Zayne knew that six months of compounded emotion all forced into a box labeled “anger” was dangerously close to erupting.

Caleb’s cheeks burned with shame. Zayne wasn’t overexaggerating. If anything, he was under-exaggerating the amount he’d sacrificed for two kids he found in the rain. They’d all been scared and vulnerable, and Zayne had taken the lead when he should have had someone to look out for him too. He remembered the white-hot rage and betrayal he’d felt when he’d realized that Zayne’s Evol had harmed her enough to need surgery that he’d entered a point of no return. And then he’d never made it right. He’d dug his heels in and let Zayne suffer with the pain alone. How could he come back from that?

“What did you say?” Zayne said, unsure if he’d heard him correctly.

“I’m sorry. I blamed the accident for her disappearence...I know you didn’t mean to hurt her. I haven’t treated you like family in months. I took you for granted growing up and even now. I never hated you, but I wanted to. Because then it didn’t need to be my fault.” Caleb looked away, voice quivering. He sniffed, turning away to try and control the tears building behind his eyes. “I can’t imagine what that was like for you.”

“It felt like you never cared about me to begin with.” Zayne said, folding his arms in front of his chest, feeling a heavy weight encasing his heart. “It felt like without her, our friendship meant nothing to you. I don’t know what was worse, the fights or the months of silence in between when we could have been there for each other. I miss her too. It feels empty without her. The apartment is too big. There’s no laughter here anymore.”

“I was so angry when I realized that your Evol went out of control like that, and then she was just gone.…I lost it. I said stuff I couldn’t take back.” Caleb said, his throat bobbed. “Can’t tell you how many times I wanted to see how you were doin’, catch up on everything. I just didn’t think anything could go back to the way it was after what I said. You were always my brother. You showed me I could be a separate person from her and I never said thank you. Your friendship was everything to me.”

Zayne raked a hand through his hair. It was nice to hear that Caleb hadn’t spent the full six months in complete venomous hatred for him, but the damage he’d caused was deep. Zayne could only barely begin to recognize Caleb now. He wondered how much they’d both changed since that day. He sighed.

“You’re a fool, Caleb.” Zayne said, shaking his head in a way that reminded Caleb of their childhood. “But the apology is appreciated.”

“Do you think you can forgive me?” Caleb asked quietly. Zayne flicked his gaze back to his face stoically.

“No. Not yet at least.” he said. Caleb flinched as though he’d been struck, and it pained Zayne to say it. “You may have been alone by choice these past months, but I wasn’t. I lost both of you in the span of a day. Even if you resolved your own feelings on the matter, it took an event like this for you to face me properly. I need time to think about that. I still don’t trust you right now.”

Caleb swallowed, nodding softly. None of his questions had been answered, but he knew that Zayne didn’t owe him that. He looked at the floor, trying to piece together how to proceed.

“So much is happening, and I don’t want to see you swept up in it.” Zayne added. “The Colonel is dangerous, stay out of his sight if you can.”

“That’ll be tough.” Caleb scoffed. “I think he’s taken a liking to me. Kept goin’ on about how I can be some “great soldier.”

Zayne cringed. He remembered the story of the Foreseer. How Astra had completely trapped Godeater in his servitude for centuries alone to be nothing but a slave to his whims and a victim of his cruelty.

“I can’t tell you everything, but you need to know that he’d sooner kill you than elevate you. He’ll use you as a pawn and trap you in his service. It sounds far-fetched, but I need you to believe me.” Zayne said. He wished there was an easier way to explain this. I need to carry pamphlets. he thought sardonically.

“You need info, don’t you?” Caleb asked him. Zayne’s jaw tensed. He was extremely hesitant to ask Caleb for anything while they were in this state of limbo. There was no true way to tell where his loyalty was at this time. Zayne knit his bottom lip between his teeth.

“It would help to know the whereabouts of A.S.T.R.A. and what they do there.” Zayne said finally. Worst case scenario, Caleb came up empty or told them something they could verify for lies. Best case, they had a solid lead.

“The Colonel lives in Skyhaven, if he has anything to do with it, it could be there.” Caleb said with a nod. “There’s a conference there next week to inspect a new batch of recruits. I’ll see what I can find.”

“Thank you.” Zayne said, shoulders beginning to relax.

“But eventually you’re gonna need to tell me what’s going on. I’m flying blind here.” Caleb told him. “I trust you, but please don’t keep me in the dark forever.”

“The less you know now, the safer it is for you.” Zayne told him. “We can talk when you get back.”

Caleb nodded silently, wincing as he got up from the chair to stand.

“Keep your burner on you. I’ll let you know if I find anything.” Caleb promised, trudging towards the door.

“Thank you.” Zayne said stoically. “Keep yourself safe, Caleb. Don’t put yourself in harm's way for this.”

Caleb offered him a soft smile and made his way out, closing the door behind him.

Zayne rubbed his tired eyes. Things weren’t fixed between them. They were both stuck in their separate hells even now, hurting away from each other, but there was hope for the future now. Zayne sighed, thinking of her. She’d be devastated to know how they’d been treating each other while she’d been away. It was one ass-kicking he’d graciously accept.

He set to work, grabbing his laptop and a change of clothes to shove in a tote bag once used for grocery shopping, along with his jar of chocolates. His mind shifted back to Sylus, waiting with Godeater in the field of flowers. He hoped that his counterpart had a plan for once they got him back to the warehouse. He glanced at his jasmine flower, a little dry to the touch, and placed the pot gently into the bag. He knew the likelihood of damaging it on the way was very high, but something tugged in his chest, and he couldn’t stand the thought of leaving it behind.

Zayne glanced at the door and thought of the Doctor’s possessions. He wondered if there was anything he should bring for when he came back. Who knew when it’d be safe to return to this place? He brought the bag with him, stepping out of his apartment and fishing his keys out of his pocket to find the Doctor’s spare.

The apartment was very similar to Zayne’s; not much decoration to speak of. Bare bones with furniture only. He’d gone to the bodega down the street when he was taken, so Zayne doubted he had any sweets. He poked his head through the door of the bedroom to see a dresser and a bed that was impeccably made. Fanned out on the bedspread was a small, soft blanket of sage green much too small for a grown man to use. He picked it up gingerly, and ran his fingers over the gold stitching in the corner. ”Isolde” it read. The Doctor’s daughter. Zayne folded it gently, and tucked it in his bag.

He also noticed a book on the dresser, bound in black leather with no title. Flipping open the cover, he saw that it was a photo album. On the front page was a lock of hair; a thick, dark brown curl secured in a tiny bow of pink silk fastened to the page. It was surrounded by photos of their little family. One featured the Doctor holding a baby swaddled in sage green in his arms and his Sylus holding him from behind with his chin pressed into the Doctor’s shoulder. They looked at her like she was the most beautiful thing in the world, their treasure.

The book was full of them. Pictures of the Doctor reading to her, a photo of the Conqueror dead asleep on a couch with a tiny little girl collapsed on his chest in a sleep just as deep. Pictures of trips they took, and moments of chaotic peace. As Zayne turned the pages, he found other photos of their life. Some were from memories he recognized; photos of the couple dancing at their wedding, a selfie of both of them along with Caleb and his wife all sitting together over a big meal.

Zayne had never seen a smile like the ones in this book on the Doctor’s face in person. It was nice to know that away from this hell, he had people to come home to and a place to feel safe and loved. Zayne flipped to the last page to a picture of the two lovers sharing a deep kiss and his heart stuttered with a jealous pang. He wondered what it felt like to be loved so fiercely.

On the opposite page in a pocket attached to the back cover was an envelope. ”Sylus” was scrawled onto the front of it in black with a handwriting that Zayne recognized as his own. Curiosity gripped him as he ran his fingers over the paper, but he pulled back and closed the Photo album, tucking it away as well for when the Doctor came back.

The Godeater had the ability to conjure what he needed, and his most precious memento was the book that Zayne had tucked under his arm now. Zayne locked each of their apartments behind him, and headed for the elevator. Ground patrol had thinned out as the cold sky outside lightened from the ink of night to a deep blue before dawn broke.

The journey wasn’t terribly difficult, but his jaw hurt from clenching, his heart felt numb from all he’d seen and heard, and his mind was so achingly tired. His sense of relief at seeing Sylus’ warehouse in front of him was quickly replaced with the mind-numbing realization that Sylus was meticulous about keeping this place under lock and key. He stared at the panel of numbers to key in a passcode and rubbed at his eyes with a frustrated groan.

Zayne was at the end of his patience, the end of his ability to hold it together. He swore furiously at the locked door. Why did everything need to be so complicated? A flash of black frost crawled up the back of his neck, and he tried to steady his breathing. All he had to do was get through the door. If he could do that, he’d consider it a small victory.

Sighing, he flipped the blue book in his hands over to open it. He had a supernatural being that was basically a god in between these pages, surely the Godeater had a solution to get inside. A sharp CAW sounded above him, and Zayne flinched as it startled him. He looked up to the source of the noise to see a mechanical crow staring at him with those beady red eyes, perched on top of a surveillance camera.

“Mephisto.” he said hesitantly. Despite his very existence being a mechanical miracle by Zayne’s standards, Zayne felt very odd talking to it. “You know the passcode, don't you? Can you unlock the door?”

The bird bristled his feathers and foisted his beak in the air as if to snub him. A ripple of irritation burned at Zayne’s cheeks. I can definitely tell who built you. he thought with a frown.

“Sylus is injured.” Zayne said urgently. The bird trained his eyes back on Zayne’s. Zayne continued. “I need to get him inside. Please open the door.”

Mephisto lifted off of his perch and landed on the metal panel in front of Zayne. He lowered his beak to tap at it tauntingly without depressing any of the numbers before looking back at Zayne expectantly.

“Do you know the code? Yes or no?” Zayne said through gritted teeth. Mephisto leaned his head down, and pressed one of the digits with purpose. A beep sounded, and Mephisto paused again to look at Zayne. At this point, Zayne was convinced; he knew the code, but he was just as petty as his owner. This is ridiculous.

“I’m sorry I threatened to freeze you out of the sky.” Zayne grumbled irritably, and reached forward to scratch the crow beneath the chin, brushing his fingers through the feathers under his metal beak.

Mephisto cooed appreciatively and Zayne withdrew his hand. With his metal beak, Mephisto pecked at a sequence of numbers Zayne would have never thought to try. A red light on the panel switched to green, and a heavy click emanated from the double doors of the abandoned warehouse.

“Thank you.” Zayne said in relief with a nod to the crow, and grunted as he forced the doors open so he could head inside. Mephisto followed him in, and Zayne shut the door behind him.

The space felt hollow without Sylus, and Zayne felt a sense of guilt, like he was encroaching on a private place he wasn’t meant to be. He walked in further to the open space of the first floor, and wondered vaguely what this place had been in the times before. There was a set of stairs that led to various rooms, maybe used for storage or as office space. There was another hallway that Zayne assumed would lead to commodities like a kitchen or shower. And then there was the wall.

The collage of pictures had grown even more since his last visit. The writing on slips of paper next to photos of him had grown more and more frantic until the times and locations Sylus had written down were barely legible at all. Zayne ran his fingers over one of them next to a photo of himself cradling a bloody nose from a fight, he couldn’t read the words to describe it, and wondered what it said. Sylus was only getting sicker; the product of a chip that had been tricked into doing a different job. If he’d killed me, he wouldn’t be in the cage of his own mind now.

He needed to go back for Sylus and Godeater, he’d wasted too much time already, but he got the sense that Sylus wouldn’t want anyone else to see this. This was private, a twisted part of his mind that had spilled over like paint. He hoped he was making the right call, and dragged a stepladder over to the wall to begin taking down the photos. He took care to group the notes he’d scrawled with the photos they belonged to, and arranged them in a pile on the desk, taking his time to deconstruct Sylus’ twisted web of obsession with a tender hand. If he wasn’t chipped, would he think of me at all? Zayne thought darkly.

As soon as the photos were grouped and tucked away into the desk in front of the now-barren wall, Zayne brought out the book. He flipped open the front cover and began to flip through the pages as he’d seen the Godeater do it before, fanning the pages under his thumb until he felt a thrum of energy under his fingertips. At first the page was unremarkable, and a pressed leaf, dry and brittle was in between the pages like a bookmark.

A spark gathered and grew into familiar golden light, sending a tingle into Zayne’s fingertips and cheeks as it grew brighter and brighter. He felt his mind fog and his stomach flip as he felt the sensation of falling. He squeezed his eyes shut and braced for a fall, but when he opened them, he was back in the field of jasmines, only a short distance away from where the Godeater was standing.

“Is everything alright? That was quite a while.” the Godeater asked him as Zayne handed over the blue book. Zayne nodded tersely.

“I ran into Caleb.” Zayne said, and the Godeater frowned. “Dont’ worry. I think he’s on our side. I don’t know if he can be trusted, but we’ll find out soon. Astra has taken a liking to him.”

“We’ll have to watch over him, then. Astra is skilled in tricks and manipulation.” Godeater said, a resentful edge to his voice. “I assume we’re in position.”

At Zayne’s nod, the Godeater opened his book back to the middle page, marked with a pressed leaf and conjured a portal wide enough for them to drag Sylus through. Zayne Grunted, his arms looped under Sylus’ to pull him to his bedroom. They were alike in height, both quite athletic as far as muscle training went, so why was it that Sylus felt so much more dense? Zayne chose to blame his exhaustion, and with the Godeater’s help, they managed to get him into bed.

“Search his pockets, if he wakes up in the mood to kill me, he won’t need much.” Zayne grunted as he gently undid Sylus’ harness and shrugged his shoulders out of the loops. Godeater traced a seal to summon a small basket to place items in, and soon it was filled; the knife from Sylus’ boot, lockpicking tools, extra ammo, a silencer, small chip-like devices that could have been anything, a small but powerful flashlight, hair ties, and something silver that Zayne recognized immediately.

“Isn’t this yours?” Godeater asked, passing Zayne the brooch that he swore he lost ages ago. Something fluttered in his heart to know that Sylus had kept it the whole time, and he promised himself to chastise Sylus about stealing it later. He placed it in the basket with his other personal effects.

“That must be it.” Godeater said, turning to leave the room.

Zayne narrowed his eyes, unconvinced. He unbuckled Sylus’ belt and drew it off of him, unsurprised to hear something clinking inside of his belt buckle. Next, Zayne checked his sleeves, completely unsurprised to find a small dagger strapped to both of his forearms underneath his shirt. His hands roved over his thighs and torso to check for anything else before he unlaced Sylus’ tall boots and pulled them off carefully to find one more lockpicking set. Godeater looked on in amazement.

“He’s the best for a reason.” Zayne said, dropping the items in the basket.

He took the basket from Godeater to place on the desk outside when he heard the sounds of a magical seal being drawn. He idled back to the room and his body tensed to see Godeater shackling Sylus’ wrists into chained manacles that he’d magically attached to the walls around him.

“What are you doing?” Zayne asked in shock, grabbing his other self by the wrist. The Godeater gave him a pained look.

“He almost killed you. I’m sorry, but we both know not to underestimate him.” he said earnestly. “It’s only temporary. Just until we can discern if he’s going to try and hurt you again. I’m sorry.”

Zayne balled his fists, nails cutting into the palms of his hands. It was unfair. It was brutish. From what Zayne knew about Sylus and through the dreams he’d picked up about his imprisonment, he was going to wake up to his personal hell all over again.

“Just until we’re sure?” Zayne said nervously. Godeater nodded, and looked just as uncomfortable as Zayne did. Zayne reluctantly released his wrist. “Can you leave him some food and water, please?”

Zayne left the room without waiting for an answer, flitting back to the desk to retrieve the black pot containing his jasmine. He hated this. Every second of it. The angry knot in his stomach grew bitter as he thought about how foul this was for Sylus. He didn’t ask to be a part of this. He’d lost so much so quickly. The King of Thieves put on a confident front, he pretended he didn’t care, but Zayne knew better. His heart cracked thinking about Sylus’ sorrowful face among a rooftop full of flowers when he truly felt like he was losing himself.

With a heavy heart, he went back into Sylus’ room, hands grasping around the potted flower, to see that Godeater had provided a row of nutritional drinks and two gallons of water at the foot of the side table for him.

“I’ll enchant the door. No one can open it except for you or I. Just for now.” he promised. “Just until we come up with a solution.”

All Zayne could do was nod as Godeater left the room. He placed the black planter on the side table next to Sylus and sat down next to him to watch him sleep. Gingerly, he brushed silver bangs out of his eyes and reached to cradle his head to unbuckle his eye patch. Setting it aside, he traced his fingertips over one of the scars below Sylus’ right eye, stretching farther below the socket. He’d fought so hard against his captors that the area around his eyelid was heavily marked and scarred. Zayne leaned down to brush his lips against the proof of his will to survive.

“I’m sorry.” Zayne whispered. “I don’t know what I could have done differently, but I hate that I didn’t protect you tonight. I’m not going anywhere. I’ll be close when you wake up.”

His eyes glanced down to Sylus’ mouth, and before he could stop himself, he pressed a soft kiss into the warmth of his lips.

The door closed behind Zayne as he walked out of the room a final time.

Chapter Text

The last thing Sylus saw before the black was Zayne’s terrified face, clawing at him and opening his mouth to beg or breathe as Sylus’ own powerful hands laid into his windpipe. His desperate green eyes turning pink at the whites, his Evol firing off in panic…and then a heavy slam against his head that challenged the thought in his mind before everything dissolved from view altogether.

Within the black of unconsciousness, he dreamed of the struggle over and over; cradling Zayne’s pale neck before wrapping his fingers around his windpipe and squeezing, squeezing, squeezing. He felt the blasts of black frost try to push him away, but they were not enough. Every part of Sylus had been fighting, screaming at himself to stop, but the reset in his head was too strong, too sudden for him to anticipate. Please…please, somebody stop me! he begged the universe. And then there was the blessing of a strike against the back of his skull and his hands fell away from Zayne’s neck.

In his sleep he felt a power, deep and visceral reaching into his mind, grazing his heart. It felt so familiar to him, but he couldn’t quite place it. The energy was wild, unpredictable, pure chaos and it felt like an old friend. As the energy rippled across the surface of his subconscious, so did a voice that sounded exactly like his own.

”I can feel you fighting. I can sense how tired your spirit is. Don’t give up just yet, Carrion. Your battle is not yet through, and someone waits for you on the other side.”

Sylus didn’t have the strength to pry further or question the voice, he simply let it drift across his mind. The voice was correct; Sylus was tired. Unimaginably so. It seemed as though every effort to maintain his control and protect Zayne from himself was wasted effort. Anxiety and horror clawed at him. Zayne’s terrified face filled his mind and he could almost feel the breath in his throat stoking out under the pads of his fingers like a failing engine.

Sylus gasped awake, his chest heaving and sweat slicking his face horrendously. He took breaths that didn’t satisfy him, feeling his lungs stutter as if no payment would be enough for what he’d done. He brought his hands to his face only to realize that they were shackled, and his mind flashed to images of a cell he could barely remember. He thrashed, overstimulated and too panicked to think or take in his surroundings. It was too much, everything was far too much, and his breath couldn’t seem to reach his throat….

“Carrion.” a voice cool like water interrupted him. Sylus thrashed on the bed towards the voice and the door to his room swung open gently. For a moment, he thought it was Zayne, prayed it was Zayne. But the tattoo on his arm and the clean cut of his hair gave him away. He looked remorseful, sorry that Sylus was in this position.

“Where is he?” Sylus said frantically. “Please tell me he’s alright. I didn’t…” Sylus trailed off, raking a hand through his hair. His heart thrummed in his chest painfully, imagining the worst. A headache had begun to sink into the space behind his eye and the low buzzing noise was slowly returning to him.

“He’s alright.” Godeater said calmly. He traced a quick seal in the air with a gloved hand and drew out a chair to sit and talk. He didn’t walk past the threshold, but looked at Sylus with earnest. “He’s on patrol. I had to beg him to leave because he wanted to be here when you woke up…but I’m not sure it’s the best idea to see him right now.”

“At least let me talk to him.” Sylus begged, eyes wide and pleading. He winced from the pain in his head, and desperately tried to calm himself. “Let me tell him I’m sorry, something. That wasn’t me. I don’t know how to describe it.”

“We know.” Godeater held a hand up passively to stop Sylus. “We all know this is not your fault. Astra did something to you and the guilt is not yours to have. But it is a danger to him, and you know that. We don’t know how deep this goes for you and we’re trying to find a way to eliminate the chip, please believe that.”

Sylus swallowed, a twisted blend of rage and sorrow pulling at his chest. He didn’t deserve this. One day he was chasing his own goals, existing within a family and now this? How much further down the line did he need to be pushed before he lost it altogether? He didn’t ask for this, any of it, and he was being punished for reasons unknown by powers that still didn’t make sense to him. Confusion made him hiss in frustration. He hated being at the disadvantage that way.

He stood up from the bed, finally able to take inventory of the situation. He was back in the warehouse and he was confined to his room. His lip curled with regret that he didn’t choose one of the bigger rooms in this place. Initially, it was only intended for sleeping, and not much else. His eyes landed on the jasmine plant from Zayne’s apartment. It was struggling, but alive. He supposed they were the same in a sense.

“How long?” Sylus asked. “How long do you need to keep me here?”

“Until we’re sure that your chip will not pose a danger.” Godeater said softly. He hated this nearly as much as Zayne did. “I’m sorry.”

“Please. While he’s gone at least, let me free. I can’t stand the thought of a cell. Not again.” Sylus pleaded. Anything. Any crumb of freedom. It was very evident that the Godeater could take his life with little more than a thought, so what was the harm? Anger flared in his chest when he watched the man who wasn’t Zayne shake his head mournfully.

“Can you think of a better way to keep him safe, Carrion?”

Sylus anger dissipated into smoke in his chest. That was it, wasn’t it? Zayne wasn’t safe with him anymore. A deep shame blossomed in his gut and made his stomach turn. His mind flashed back to the desperate, terrified look on Zayne’s face as he tried to escape Sylus’ hands. Sylus grimaced.

“No.” he said softly. “I can’t.”

Godeater looked at him with a face of regret. He knew how abhorrent this was for Sylus in any reality and desperately wished that there was different option. The fact that he truly didn’t understand why any of this was happening only would only compound his frustration, it would only deepen the spiral.

“I know how confusing this is.” Godeater said gently, sitting forward in his chair. “Are you open to seeing the truth?”

“At this point, any clue you can give me would make me feel less like a madman.” Sylus said, bringing his long fingers to the bridge of his nose. The Godeater tensed his jaw, as if hoping that what he said would remain true when he was finished.

Sylus watched numbly as Godeater traced a new seal in the air, a small portal to display memories. He took it in. The beginning of a Foreseer and a hobbled Dragon. And in another place with a Doctor and a Conqueror. The power that every Zayne could harness with their Sylus; the Void. Devastating, in sync, a harmony tuned to pure power. Godeater showed it all to him. The power, the downfalls, the obstacles. The moment of power he’d used against the Colonel and the moment of release he’d felt with the Sovereign. All of it, every shred was important.

“What would have happened if this god hadn’t altered the world? What would it be like now? Would we be happy?” Sylus wondered, chest heaving at the sights before him. The scenes of pure adoration, of being wanted resonated in his very soul.

“You would have found each other naturally I imagine.” Godeater said quietly. “Your path wouldn’t have been disrupted. Fate is a fickle mistress.”

“Would he choose me?” Sylus said, the rot of self-hatred snaking into his gut to choke him bitterly.

“You would need to ask him.” said the Godeater stoically. He knew the answer, but this wasn’t his place. Fingers that dipped too deeply into the cosmic arrangement would take away their will, their choice. And the Godeater would be the first to attest to the fact that a sheer force of will had been his saving grace when it came to his dragon. They needed to choose this for themselves, and he would not interfere no matter how predictable he believed the outcome to be.

“Then let me ask you something else.” Sylus said carefully. His chest was wracked with hopelessness, his mind fogged with information, but he had to know. “You can feel energy; tell me how to take my aethercore back. Even if I can’t save my eye. That is a part of me, and I want it back.”

When the man who was not Zayne swallowed and closed his eyes to gather an answer, Sylus already knew the heart of what he was going to say. It’s not possible. Sylus barely heard the explanation he offered, the descriptions of energy convergence and how a god could absorb power to hold and use. How their greatest hope was to deplete him of the energy he held, but that it couldn’t be broken off in one piece from their enemy the same way it had from Sylus. Bitterness flooded his mouth and an anger he couldn’t contain flooded him.

“Enough.” Sylus snapped, jerking at his chains indignantly. “What now, then? What do you expect me to do next? Stay here? Be patient?”

“Yes.”

Sylus sank back down to the bed, running his hands over his face. He was overwhelmed, lost in the events around him. The man in the doorway watched him uncomfortably, wishing that there was something he could say but both of them knew that there was nothing that would lighten any of these blows. Zayne’s safety, this tilted cosmic balance, his missing piece…it was too much and all at once. Sylus clenched his teeth, biting back bile in his throat. For a time, neither Sylus nor the Godeater spoke and the demi-fiend took it as a sign to leave, quietly closing the door to Sylus’ room.

Time seemed to crawl for Sylus. He uncapped the gallon of water at his feet, and poured a small stream into the potted plants before bringing the jug to his lips. He felt like a monster. In the moment, he simultaneously wanted Zayne to be both here with him and as far away as possible. His head throbbed, and he heard his own pulse hammer away at him like a metronome.

He tried to steady his breathing, and glanced around the room trying to focus on one single point to ground him. His gaze landed back to the jasmine and he stared, trying to calm his thoughts and focus on the details to anchor himself. Every petal, every vein on the stem and leaf. He reached out with his fingertips, gently brushing the petals of the jasmine when it happened.

On contact with the drooping flower, Sylus’ headache melted away. A serene feeling spread from the crown of his head and enveloped his body in a soothing warmth. For a moment, something flickered in his mind, an image that was gone before he could properly think about it. He exhaled, drawing his hand back as if he’d been shocked. The chains on his arms clanked together in protest, but Sylus didn’t seem to mind. His headache was completely gone. His anxiety quieted. It didn’t fix anything, but for the first time in ages, he felt as though his thoughts were his own again.

___

Zayne trudged back to the warehouse at dawn. He was running low on energy, and after only four hours of sleep he’d been unable to rest. He’d taken to pacing outside of Sylus’ door until his other self had practically shoved him out the door for something to do. The Godeater promised to keep an eye on Sylus, to assess the situation when he woke up but urged Zayne to distract himself. Zayne had managed to find a few Alterum in the shadow of night, but his mind wandered back to Sylus.

He entered the code for the building and hauled the door open, closing it behind him with a heavy thud as he entered the warehouse. He glanced around, looking for Godeater for a moment before making his way to the closed door of Sylus’ room. He raised a fist to knock, but froze, unsure of himself.

“I know you’re there, Reaper.” Sylus’s voice said tiredly from the other side of the door. Zayne tensed, raising an eyebrow.

“How do you know it’s not the Godeater?” he asked skeptically.

“You walk differently. Your footsteps drag more than his does.” Sylus replied. His voice was punctual and calm. None of the usual mirth or teasing warmed his tone; this was the voice of someone consumed with guilt. “Are you alright?"

“I’m fine. It’s nothing to worry about.” Zayne said softly, fingers reaching to touch the dark purple bruises on his battered neck. He wrapped his hand around the door handle when Sylus spoke again, and Zyne could hear chains rattling as if Sylus was sitting up.

“Don’t.” he warned. “Keep your distance, Reaper.”

Zayne’s heart clutched in his chest in sorrow. Sylus sounded scared, cautious. He sounded miserable. Zayne noticed a chair propped near the doorway, and pulled it over to him to sit.

“How’s your head?” Zayne asked Sylus softly. Another rattle of chains clanked through the door in what Zayne assumed was a shrug.

“Surprisingly, it feels perfectly fine.” Sylus said, fiddling with the manacle around his wrist awkwardly. “I’m sorry for what happened at headquarters. I never wanted to hurt you. Even when things got bad, hurting you was always the furthest thing from my mind.”

“I know.” Zayne said, leaning forward to press his forehead against the door.

“Why didn’t you tell me about the chip sooner?” Sylus asked quietly. Zayne felt the same anxious squeeze in his chest.

“I tried.” Zayne told him, picking at his fingers . “That night on the roof, that’s what I wanted to tell you. At that time it was little more than a theory.”

“I could have helped. I could have been trying to find a way to fix this. Not knowing put you in danger and me back in a cell.” Sylus said. His tone wasn’t angry and his voice wasn’t raised. It was sorrowful, full of regret.

“I’m sorry.” Zayne’s voice matched Sylus’. “I just wanted to be sure.”

Silence passed between them, uneasy and heavy. Sylus sat on his bed, back to the wall with his eyes closed, picturing Zayne’s face as if they were speaking face to face. Zayne chewed his lip, tugging at a frayed hole in his sweats.

“To your credit, you weren’t lying about not having a brother. In fact, I’ve since learned that he really did get that tattoo from a dragon. A quite attractive dragon at that.” Sylus said with a small smile. Zayne let go of a small chuckle, sudden and punctuated like a scoff. Good enough. “I can hear your smile. I like it.”

“So Godeater showed you everything.” Zayne said, shoulders relaxing just slightly. He imagined Sylus nodding silently.

“He did. He told me about the dreams you had. What was it like? What’s he like?” Sylus asked curiously about his other self.

“You two are very similar.” Zayne replied. “The Conqueror is a leader. A lot of people seem to trust him.”

“And you dreamt of him first.” Sylus said, voice colored with something he didn’t want to name, the slightest shade of envy.

“Yes.” Zayne said. “My dreams found him, but I was searching for you long before I knew it myself.”

“Do you wish I was more like him? More refined, more powerful?” Sylus wasn’t sure why he asked. Zayne’s perception of Sylus was likely skewed and distorted from the chip. He wasn’t sure what he was expecting Zayne to say at all.

“Dreaming of him was involuntary. Finding you was a choice.” Zayne said simply. Sylus swallowed. A warmth appeared in his chest and he suddenly felt naked, exposed in front of Zayne even through a solid door.

“When were you planning to tell me about all of this?”

“I’m not sure. I knew you’d never believe me.” Zayne said softly. Sylus scoffed at him.

“That’s not why you hesitated.” Sylus said, shaking his head. “I can hear it in your voice. What’s the real reason?”

Zayne’s mouth went dry and his stomach twisted nervously.

“I didn’t want you to feel obligated to be with me.” he admitted. “All this talk of destiny, fate, love. I wanted you to feel like you had a choice.”

“And what about you? Do you feel an obligation to be with me?” Sylus fired back.

“No.” Zayne said without hesitation, as another question bubbled to the surface of his thoughts. “Do you worry that our connection will fade if you lose the chip?”

“No.” Sylus said, just as certain. “There’s something they don’t want me to feel. Something I’m beginning to see clearly now.”

“Do you think you reprogrammed it again like you did before?” Zayne asked, sitting up to look hopefully at the door in front of him. Chains slid together with a heavy noise as Sylus moved around.

“I don’t know. But I feel like I’m able to think properly now, and it doesn’t hurt. I don’t know if it’s going to come back, but I feel like I can finally think of you without being punished for it.” Sylus said, crossing his legs on the bed as he spoke. “I can finally admit that I can’t stand the thought of someone else touching you the way we touched. And not because I want to possess you; it's because I don’t want you to look at anyone else but me.”

Zayne’s heart fluttered, and a pink rose on his cheeks. His lips parted to speak, but he had no idea what to say.

“I only wish we didn’t have everything else in the background; gods and dragons and Pawn chips…Just a space for the two of us to figure it out.” Sylus went on. The corners of Zayne mouth upturned slightly.

“Planning to steal me away like one of your flowers?” Zayne said, a hint of sarcasm to his voice as a heat softly pooled in his core. Now it was Zayne's to hear Sylus’ smile as he spoke.

“Why not? You’re the most poisonous of all.” he said fondly.”Can’t you see that you’ve already infected me? Spread to every vein in my body and thought in my mind?”

“That sounds like the chip talking.” Zayne said dryly.

“No. The chip punishes. You draw me in like the smell of soft jasmine, and disarm me like datura.” Sylus said, his velvet voice only adding to the heat that pooled in Zayne’s cheeks. “When we figure it out and I’m finally free of this, I’m going to touch you in the way you deserve. Gently this time, and slowly so that the moment won’t pass us by.”

“I want to go back to see the flowers again with you.” Zayne admitted, swallowing hard at Sylus’ words. “When we can both enjoy them together.”

Sylus sighed. The door between them felt thicker, heavier. A reminder.

“I used to be better person.” Sylus said softly. “More powerful. Kinder.”

“Me too.” Zayne replied. “I wish you could have met me then.”

“Maybe we just need the right conditions to grow again.” Sylus mused, gaze trained back on the jasmine on the side table. A new fear bloomed in his mind, the terror of being seen and recoiled from. The fear of being known and left behind. His voice dropped, and Zayne had to listen closely to hear him. “Please don’t give up on me before I’ve had a chance to see you with my own sight.”

Zayne placed a hand on the door, a swell of emotion in his chest that felt at home in his heart.

“I’ve been waiting for you for a long time, Sylus. I don’t intend to stop now.”

The silence felt less oppressive now. Now it was alive with possibility. Little by little, the promise of something real in a place with no hope seemed plausible. All they wanted was a chance. An opportunity to try. Zayne leaned against the door in his chair, his head propped against the old wood and his shoulders slumped. Cradled in the arms of possibility, they both fell into sleep.

____

“Reaper!”

Zayne startled awake to Sylus’ voice calling him urgently, nearly toppling out of his chair in surprise. In alarm, he looked back at the door.

“Sylus? Are you okay?” he called, standing up to face it.

“I’m fine.” Sylus said, but his words were rushed, quick. “I dreamed. Things I’d forgotten. The facility they held me in wasn’t here in the city, it was in Skyhaven. And I wasn’t the only one there.”

Zayne’s heart thundered in his chest, and he held his breath for Sylus’ next words.

“Get back into the database. Search for “Unicorn.”

Chapter Text

Caleb stepped off of the transport platform and shielded his eyes from the sun in a pair of aviators as the jet behind him rumbled to a stop. General Headquarters’ widespread, clean-looking platform of slatted metal and a light patrol standing at the entrances to the building was the sight that greeted him as he walked forward with heavy steps, maintaining his neutral mask as a Captain despite the conflicted twist in his gut.

Caleb would have rather done many other things with his life besides joining the Farspace Fleet. He could have been a mechanic, the way his mind seemed to piece together machinery naturally in a flow that made sense. He could have been a pilot for transport. The Deepspace Aviation Administration had been pushed out of Old Linkon by the Fleet when he was just a child but he still could have gotten his pilot’s licence somehow, even if he had to learn from someone underground. Then maybe he could have chauffeured rich people or Fleet VIPs around for a living.

But the Fleet had been his goal from the beginning. Not because he believed in their methods, or approved of the ways that they’d made his entire life growing up miserable, but because he knew he’d never be hungry and his wallet would never be empty. On the day he took his oath when graduating basic training, the words were hollow. Meaningless. His mouth formed the words he’d been made to memorize, but his heart was saying different words completely as he spied his family in the audience. I promise to always protect you, to give back twice what I’ve been given, and to make you both proud.

And just as he’d planned, he saved their family from the streets once and for all. In just the first months after basic training, his miniscule paycheck was just enough to secure that crappy one bedroom apartment that he shared with his family. They’d taken turns; one sleeping on the lumpy mattress, one on the couch, and one on a pallet on the floor. Occasionally they’d all come home exhausted from their respective night jobs and collapse into the bed together, a tangle of limbs and too tired to care if one of them kicked in their sleep or snored through the night.

When he’d been stationed in Skyhaven for training just before his promotion, he’d left the apartment to the two of them. She had been proactive about sending him pictures; the treats she baked and the way Zayne had started to smile more…Caleb missed those days. Even when he wasn’t around, the thought that he had a family waiting for him, a home to come back to had kept him going. Now, he wasn’t sure what kept him upright anymore. Perhaps it was hope, perhaps it was just routine. His secret oath felt broken by his own hands now.

At least on this occasion there seemed to be a point to the mask he wore with the other officers. He needed information on the Colonel, and anything he could possibly uncover about A.S.T.R.A. He played nice, smiled and shook hands. He pretended to listen through opening announcements and panel speakers discussing the latest propaganda statistics about petty crime and Alterum sightings going down. Of course the numbers are down. The criminals are dead and the Alterum are being culled, no thanks to you all. he thought bitterly.

The ballroom of the enormous facility was outfitted with many tables for the officers and leadership to sit and sip on their fancy coffee in porcelain cups or take notes with their expensive fountain pens. Caleb was just one officer afloat in a sea of white table cloths and pretension around every corner. It made his skin crawl, reminding him that he didn’t truly belong here. He was simply a visitor. He always had been. A great pretender.

Caleb left the crowded ballroom during a refreshment break to seek a breath of fresh air on the balcony that overlooked the sunny day in Skyhaven. There was color here, a place that hadn’t been completely ravished by Protocore Syndrome. In only a matter of years, Skyhaven had become home to the wealthy and elite who fled Linkon City and rested comfortably in the Fleet’s controlling hand. Caleb sneered internally at the things he knew about the corruption in this place, like how a diagnosis of Protocore Syndrome always led to “accidents,” or patients simply never being seen again.

“Something on your mind, Captain?” a familiar, rasping voice rattled beside him. Caleb jumped, startled at the interruption to his thoughts, but straightened up to salute the Colonel. His eyes were straight ahead, and his stomach twisted at the mere thought of him. “At ease, Captain. Walk with me.”

Caleb followed him, hiding his apprehension behind the mask he’d built for himself ages ago. Was the Colonel going to drill him for information about Zayne? Reprimand him for letting Dawnbreaker get away? The twisting in his stomach solidified into dead weight with every step they took; he hadn’t expected to run into the old man here.

“How are things in your sector, Captain Xia?” the Colonel asked pleasantly, and Caleb swallowed down his discomfort to report.

“Things are improving. Work has begun on the HQ building and patrols haven’t reported an uptick in disturbances.” he said calmly, glancing at the Colonel. The Colonel looked even more frail since the last time Caleb saw him; his skin had gone a shade more grey and looked lifeless and dull, the hunch in his shoulders had worsened and his very breath wheezed out of him as if even a leisurely stroll was strenuous.

“But no sign of Dawnbreaker and the rest of his ilk.” said the Colonel with a cold edge to his voice. They circled the building, drifting away from other officers and prying eyes.

“None, sir.” Caleb lied stoically.

“Well, I suppose it’s to be expected.” the Colonel scoffed, voice dropping to a hateful growl. “He’s become the sort of grime that clings to the cracks and crevices unseen, too cowardly to face his own fate.”

Caleb stared, unable to fathom a proper response to that outburst.

“He’s disobedient and defiant. Not like you, Captain Xia. You understand why order must prevail, don’t you? How disordered and hellish the world would be without a firm hand to guide it?” said the Colonel with a watchful eye. Caleb swallowed back the taste of bile and disgust.

“Of course, sir.” he said dutifully, resisting the urge to make a face. The Colonel nodded in approval. The Colonel’s hobbled walk came to a stop, and Caleb knew that no one could hear them, this talk was just for them.

“You’re special, Captain Xia. I’d like you to join the A.S.T.R.A. taskforce.” the Colonel said calmly, watching for Caleb’s reaction. Caleb fought to keep his face straight and his body language unchanged.

“What sort of duties would be expected of me?” Caleb asked him, resisting the urge to blink and praying that the man in front of him couldn’t hear his anxious heartbeat. The Colonel frowned, just slightly.

“Your most important duty is to follow orders, not to ask questions.” said the old man. “I need to ensure that you can be trusted. This unit covers more than you know, and more is on the line than you can possibly conceive.”

The colonel dipped a gloved hand inside his jacket, and withdrew a paper envelope to hand to Caleb. Caleb looked at him with questioning eyes as he opened it, withdrawing a mission briefing from the envelope. Everything he needed was here; coordinates, a roster for the team he’d be overseeing, provisioning for entry into the Deepspace Tunnel.

“We’ve located a very powerful protocore called the Creatio Protocore. I need you to retrieve it. This mission is top-secret and your clearance will be temporarily elevated once you enter the Deepspace Tunnel. Don’t disappoint me, Captain.” said the Colonel.

Caleb placed the papers back into their place inside of the envelope and tucked it in his jacket, face still disguised in neutrality as he stood at attention and saluted. Ne knew he needed to watch his step. As he walked away, he swore he could feel those beady eyes on his back, trying to see straight through him.

He waited until the conference and panels finished up for the day, and he had gotten back to his accommodations for the night. Caleb slid his phone from his pocket and quickly changed the data card in the device. He sat, pulling off his service cap and working off his gloves as he mentally changed what he wanted to say into slide code. He checked over his work, and pressed “send.”

Messaging Zayne did nothing to ease the anxiety; he had no idea if any of this was actually helpful. He knew he had to build trust again, but he was flying blind. Caleb’s teeth wore at his chapped lips and he got up to shower. Something was off about the Colonel. Something that scared him.
___

In another room in the warehouse that Zayne had claimed to sleep in, he accessed the Fleet database, leaning back against the headboard of the soft bed that Godeater had conjured for him. He did as Sylus had suggested and searched “UNICORN” in the query form, breath held with anticipation and more hope than he could restrain.

The search returned one result, and Zayne stared at the screen of his laptop with astonishment. A document within the Fleet’s database stared back at him. [SUBJECT: UNICORN] Zayne couldn’t take his eyes off of the photo attachment to her file. Sylus had been right; it was her. She was alive.

The photo was at an odd side angle, only capturing her face from the neck up, and some sort of filter or warp blurred the focus slightly. There was a warm, pure glow in the background and she appeared unconscious, hair draped over her features. Zayne tried to still his rapid heartbeat so he could focus and make sense of this. He scanned the document, predictably redacted except for a few words here and there. It was long, much more extensive than Carrion’s had been. In the last paragraph sat the final confirmation for Zayne: ”...subject is…”

Zayne tensed, startled by a knock on the door. He caught his breath and crossed the small office space to open the door for the Godeater, who narrowed his eyes inquisitively at Zayne’s wide-eyed expression.

“Is…everything alright?” he asked, concerned. Zayne nodded, and picked up the laptop to show him.

“I found her.” he said breathlessly. “She’s with the Fleet, and she’s alive.”

“You’re sure she’s alive, and this report doesn’t document her death.” Godeater said, mouth parting in surprise. Zayne scrolled to the bottom of the report.

“Yes. The most recent entry as far as I can see states “subject is” as opposed to a past tense term. This is more proof than we ever got for Sylus. She’s alive, I’m positive.” Zayne said, words fast and erratic.

“This is excellent news.” the Godeater smiled. “I came to tell you that I’m leaving soon to bring the Doctor back, see if he’s found anything on the chip.”

“Excellent. In the meantime, I’ll have Caleb look for clues about where they’re keeping her. After we remove Sylus’ chip, this should be the next step.” Zayne said, setting down his computer again. Doubt crossed the Godeater’s features, and he nibbled the inside of his lip thoughtfully.

“Are you sure we can trust Caleb?” he asked apprehensively. Zayne paused, trying to recalibrate himself through his excitement. Caleb was the first person he wanted to tell about what he’d found, but the sad, sunken wound Caleb had planted in his heart might have been healing but it was nowhere near sewn back together.

“I want to.” Zayne admitted. “But I don’t know just yet.”

“You know him. I do not. But if Astra is attempting to groom him for servitude, we need to tread carefully. Astra is skilled at breeding loyalty and manipulation. I would hesitate to take any chances.” Godeater said softly. He sounded cautious, scared. Quite the change from when he thrust himself into battle just a few days ago.

“What has you so nervous?” Zayne asked plainly. “Only a few days ago you were certain you could defeat Astra all at once in the moment.”

“He’s connected in some way to the Abyss. He can enter my thoughts again, and he hasn’t been able to do that since I became a part of that power. It was one of the ways he could control me in my time as the Foreseer.” he explained. He looked at the floor, jaw set in discomfort.”To have every thought, every emotion scrutinized, examined for any evidence of dissent, and punished for it was my reality for hundreds of years. I will not go back to it.”

“Just like Sylus.” Zayne murmured.

“Similar.” Godeater replied, shaking his head. “But you cannot imagine what he’ll do simply to correct what he sees as weakness. On one occasion, he suspended me from the ceiling by my limbs and bled me for days. All because I protected Sylus from another one of his “tools.”

Zayne swallowed. He remembered seeing such punishment in the memories he’d been shown, but Godeater had never spoken about how it truly felt before. Now he was scared, but he seemed even more afraid of the same happening to someone else. What appeared to scare him the most was hearing the voice he thought he’d long escaped.

“What made you fight it?” Zayne asked him seriously. “What gave you the will to push back after hundreds of years of suffering?”

“You already know the answer to that.” Godeater said, a faint smile curling the corners of his lips though his eyes stayed just as worried. “It was Sylus. A love that made me too strong to be controlled any longer. And Astra tried with all his might to keep us apart.”

The Godeater shuddered, remembering the punishment that robbed him of his memory, that had tricked him into fighting Sylus with everything he had as though they were enemies. He placed a hand over his heart, remembering the fight that led to their soul union.

“He’s capable of incredible cruelty. He does not care for the lives of his tools, only their staunch loyalty and servitude to him. They are but objects to a god.” Godeater said quietly. “If you find that you can trust Caleb, then we need to protect him from such a fate.”

“I wish you had your Sylus here with you to fight. I know how much you miss him.”

“No.” Godeater snapped suddenly. “He must stay where he is. The reach of Wanderers continues to bleed into our world and I believe Astra is testing his boundaries.”

“Do you truly believe that, or are you afraid of bringing him to a world where Astra can reach you again?” Zayne asked earnestly. Once again, Godeater would not look him in the eyes.

“Both are true.” he conceded. He turned to leave, and Zayne stopped him.

“Wait. If you’re leaving, I think we need to free Sylus. I want to test his reaction to me before you go, in case he’s overcome his chip again.” Zayne said, reaching out a hand to stop him. Godeater glanced back at him from over his shoulder and gave a nod. In the past few days, Sylus wouldn’t allow Zayne to speak to him face to face, simply unable to trust himself to hold back if his chip activated again.

In front of Sylus’ door, Godeater knocked politely and announced his presence before opening the door, shielding Zayne from view. Sylus sat up, chains rattling as he did to look at the sorcerer.

“Come to make sure I haven’t descended into madness?” Sylus said, resigned.

“Something like that.” said the Godeater, waving a hand to make Sylus’ manacles disappear. Sylus rubbed his sore joints and planted his feet on the floor, standing to stretch out his long limbs. “How are you feeling?”

“Not full of murderous intent, if that’s what you’re asking.” Sylus said sarcastically, yawning as he rolled his neck out.

“Dawnbreaker.” Godeater called.

Sylus braced himself. He’d known it was coming, he’d heard them outside his door but his throat went dry and he let out a nervous breath as Zayne stepped into view. Sylus nodded at him, a relieved smile crossing his face, and raised a hand to reach for Zayne’s.

Zayne could feel his heart pound in his chest as he walked into the room, hand outstretched to take Sylus’. As their fingers touched, Sylus sighed in relief.

“Nothing.” he said, raising Zayne’s hand to kiss his knuckles. “I must have overridden it again like last time. It finally feels quiet in my thoughts.”

Godeater gave him a nod of approval, and turned on his heel to leave them alone. Sylus raised the tips of his fingers to the deep bruising on Zayne’s neck with a look of shame.

“It doesn’t hurt.” Zayne promised him softly. Sylus shook his head.

“Liar.”

Zayne squeezed his hand, offering him a small smile before he let go to walk out of the room.

“Whenever you’re ready.” he said softly.

“I have never been more ready for a shower.” Sylus chuckled, following him out of the space and down the hall. He felt lighter, safer. What had he been so afraid of?

And then he heard the buzzing. Zayne had his back turned to him, passing by another open door to duck in to retrieve his computer when he heard Sylus hiss in pain. He whirled around to see Sylus holding his head, groaning with the headache that came on as suddenly as a cracked whip. When Sylus looked back at him, Zayne felt a cold dread overtake him and watched the pupil of Sylus’ left eye constrict to the size of a pinprick.

This time, Zayne took off, running through the hall in the warehouse to catch up with the Godeater, shouting his title as his bare feet carried him as fast as he could go. Sylus broke into a sprint to catch up with him, hand outstretched to grasp at his hair with the intent to yank him backwards when he suddenly stopped mid-stride. Zayne panted, eyes flitting to the Godeater in thanks.

Sylus eyed the Godeater curiously, struggling against the invisible psychic force that held him in place. Godeater stepped forward, eyes narrowed and mouth pulled into a frown. Zayne looked on, terrified and confused. He’d been fine just a moment ago, what was going on? Sylus looked at him as if he were prey, a cold, calculated expression replacing the soft face he’d given Zayne before. He wasn’t himself.

With a grunt, Godeater used the psychic hold he had on Sylus to send him flying back with a flick of his wrist, and then again to sweep him back into the room he’d occupied as though he weighed nothing. With his other hand, he channelled the Abyss, constructing a barrier in a flash of red to span across the doorway with a shimmer.

Sylus sat up on the floor of his room, hands messaging his temples and finding that the buzzing was gone, and so was the oppressive headache. He looked around in panic, chest heaving when he realized what he’d done. He was on his feet in a moment, and came face to face with a red screen of energy covering his doorway, transparent enough to see through, but solid as a wall, preventing him from exiting.

Godeater approached the door, and Sylus could see Zayne behind him, staring at him with wide, horrified eyes. Sylus shook his head.

“No…That wasn’t me. Dammit!” Sylus objected, the side of his fast hammering against the red barrier in frustration and sorrow, gaze frantically looking for Zayne. “I don’t know what happened!”

“I know.” the Godeater said sympathetically. He walked forward, pushing past Sylus’ shaking frame to enter the room easily. He glanced around, looking for some personal touch or piece of something personal. “There’s got to be something here that anchors you. Something that keeps you sane while you’re in this room.”

“The jasmine.” Zayne said quietly, approaching the barrier. Zayne ran his hands over the red glimmer of the barrier, brushing it with his fingers to test it’s strength and finding that he could phase right through. Still, he kept his distance, shaken with what had just occurred.

Sylus was a nervous wreck, chest heaving in shame and fists clenching and unclenching as he sank down onto the bed, too overwhelmed to focus on what the other two were saying.

Godeater scoffed, shaking his head. Of course. he thought wryly, chiding himself for not seeing it before. With gloved fingertips, he cradled the blossom, closing his eyes to reach out with his mind to smooth over any energy he might find there. A harsh sound filled his ears for a moment, and he could feel an image trying to move to the forefront of his mind, but it never came into focus. He pursed his lips and stood straight, gaze meeting Zayne’s again and glancing down at Sylus.

“You’re right. Something appears to be abnormal about your jasmine. This is different from what I’ve seen in the fields, and it doesn’t appear to be a door or a memory. Not yet. I can tell you that it’s beginning to thrive on your connection. Meditate with it, see what you can determine; sometimes unintended magics are the most powerful.” Godeater said matter of factly to Zayne. He looked back to Sylus again. “Zayne can cross the barrier, but you’ll be unable to. It’s better if you don’t leave this room for now, until we can either determine how the anchor works, or how to deactivate your chip.”

Sylus nodded listlessly, avoiding eye contact, arms in front of his chest to hold himself by the elbows in discomfort. Godeater knew there was nothing he could say to comfort him, only Zayne had that power now. He turned to take his leave, crossing the barrier to come face to face with his counterpart.

“I’m going for the Doctor, I’ll be back in a day.” Godeater said punctually, turning to walk away, but Zayne grabbed him by the arm.

“You’re not going home?”

“No. My focus should be here.” Godeater said dismissively, pulling his arm out of Zayne’s grasp.

“You should. You’re pushing your limits again.You need to rest just like the rest of us.” Zayne argued with him. “We’ll be fine for a few days longer.”

Godeater looked conflicted, trying to balance his desire with his duty. He looked up at the barrier he’d cast, lips pursed as if thinking it over. He pictured his dragon, the sense of relief, the will to keep fighting he’d experienced in the fields.

“A few days, then.” Godeater conceded. His eyes flicked towards Sylus’ room. “Please don’t do anything rash.”

“I’ll try.” Zayne said, tone noncommittal. “Don’t push yourself.”

“I’ll try.” Godeater mimicked his dry tone.

Nothing about this was comfortable, and Zayne felt raw. It seemed as though every time there was progress, there were also steps back. How much longer could they handle this madness?

Chapter Text

“Stop acting like I’m going to bite you.” Zayne said, crossing his arms in front of his chest. He had crossed the red barrier into Sylus’ room only to find Sylus edging away, back pressed against the wall nervously.

“You know that’s not my concern, Reaper.” Sylus bit back, shoulders rigid and limbs stiff like a cornered wildcat.

“You’re going to have to talk to me eventually.” Zayne said calmly, leaning back against the opposite wall of his room. “There are precautions in place. You’re not going to hurt me.”

Sylus raised his fingers to the bridge of his nose, sighing in frustration. He teleported, a red mist transporting him across the room and in front of Zayne before Zayne could think about it, caging him in between his long arms and looming in his space. Zayne didn’t move under Sylus’ intimidation, not even when their noses brushed together.

“Do you see how quickly I could chase you down like prey? How badly I could hurt you, Reaper?” he murmured, his voice low and miserable. He needed Zayne to understand. Didn’t he realize that he was playing with his own life now?

Zayne stared back at him, a mix of defiance and understanding, and motioned down with his eyes. Sylus looked down and frowned to see a spike of black ice in Zayne’s hand, the severe-looking sharp tip a breath away from his stomach. If Sylus had really planned to rush into Zayne, he would have been impaled. It wouldn’t have killed him, but it would have been much harder to chase Zayne down with a sucking stomach wound.

“I’m disappointed, Carrion.” Zayne murmured back, tone tight, almost teasing. “After all that incessant pursuit, and watching my every move…when did you start to underestimate me?”

Sylus swallowed, fighting the shudder that crept under his skin as Zayne brought the spike of ice forward to drag on his clothes, grazing the tip up the middle of his torso. Cold air hit his abs when his shirt dragged up, just a little, to expose his abs.

“Every risk is calculated. Every threat behind every corner is an opportunity to learn.” Zayne said, voice harrowing to a soft but firm whisper.

Sylus felt a heat pool in his core as Zayne twisted his wrist to drag the dagger-like ice in between his pecs. And then Sylus felt it on the flesh of his neck, cold and dominating. Sharp, ready to end a conversation before it began. It came to rest on the underside of Sylus chin, and all it took was a tiny shift in Zayne’s wrist to tip Sylus’ chin up, forcing him to look into his eyes.

“You can’t fool me.” Zayne continued. “You could have broken through your restraints at any time. Forced your hands around my neck after you broke down the door to this room. Eviscerated me with your Evol. But you didn’t.”

Sylus’ gaze drifted to Zayne’s lips, his own falling open as he listened to him speak. His chest flooded with need and his fingers dug into the wall behind Zayne. Once again Zayne had disarmed him, entranced him, and it wasn’t the chip thinking for him this time. Zayne tapped the underside of Sylus’ chin as if to say pay attention.

“I am not afraid of you, no matter how afraid you are of yourself.” Zayne said, causing Sylus to wonder how his whisper carried so much power. “So instead of projecting your fears onto me, let me help you carry them.”

The icicle disappeared under Sylus’ chin, and Zayne placed his hand on his neck, cold fingers sliding up Sylus’ cheek. Sylus closed his eye, shuddering under his touch. Conflict creased his features. He didn’t know how to proceed anymore, how far he could go before the pain returned and his thoughts and feelings were stolen from him. The terror of his control being taken at any moment squeezed at his heart. And he looked up at Zayne with a pleading face, unsure of what he was begging for.

“Help me test a theory.” Zayne breathed, borrowing Sylus’ own words as he slotted their lips together.

The kiss was unlike any other that they’d shared before; it was soft, intimate. Zayne took the lead, firmly guiding Sylus’ lips to push back, to part for him softly. Sylus felt his world explode into color. It was like seeing the sunrise for the first time, or watching a bird take flight. A different sort of haze settled into Sylus’ mind, warm and soft, and Sylus felt his heart leap in his chest at every gentle touch, ever soft sounds that came from Zayne’s lips.

They both knew how powerful the other was. How their touches could be harsh, greedy, ferocious. But now the claws were tucked away, and the power laid in softness instead of bruising force. Sylus hands slid down the wall behind Zayne as his shoulders relaxed, and came to rest at Zayne’s waist softly. Zayne’s free hand reached to pull the hair tie from Sylus’ hair, letting his silver tresses fall around his shoulders for Zayne to caress between his fingers.

The hand on Sylus’ face slid down his chest, roving down his side with soft pressure that made him sigh. Zayne slipped his fingers under the hem of Sylus’ shirt, bare fingertips grazing his abs.

“Wait.” Sylus said suddenly, pulling away gently, and circling his fingers around Zayne’s wrist to halt him. He didn’t want to deny either of them, but the cold fear in his heart was persistent. “I feel like I’m still in a prison, even if the cell is bigger for me at the moment. I don’t want to shake the bars. I won’t push my luck with this. Not when it’s you.”

Zayne leaned back in to bring their foreheads together, bringing his fingertips away from Sylus’ torso and back to his face. Sylus looked fearful, awkward, but Zayne regarded him calmly.

“It’s okay. I’m not going anywhere.” he promised, smoothing his thumb over Sylus’ cheek. Inside, Zayne’s heart was aching. Not out of disappointment or rejection, but because Sylus still didn’t feel safe.

He’d come to know Sylus as a person of impulse, of desire and honoring his own greed. To see Sylus continue to deny himself what he clearly wanted was harrowing, and felt unfair. Zayne wanted Sylus’ smile back, his teasing, the feeling of competition when they fought side by side. One day you’ll feel like yourself again. Zayne thought sullenly as he circled Sylus’ wrist to lead him back to the bed to sit and talk. I promise I’ll protect you this time.

Zayne felt a subtle vibration coming from his pocket, and pulled his cell phone from his joggers curiously as he sat on the bed next to Sylus. Sylus craned his head over Zayne’s shoulder curiously. And quirked an eyebrow at the jumbled code of letters that didn’t make sense at first glance.

“And who is that typing out puzzles?” Sylus said with a smirk. Zayne gave him a quizzical look, and handed him the phone.

“Are cyphers part of your Rogue’s Collective repertoire?” Zayne said lightly. Sylus flashed him a look. What do you think? he seemed to say. Zayne smirked, leaning back against the wall that the bed was pushed into. “Good, then you can compose my reply. I’m sure from context you can gather who it’s from.”

“Oh how bold.” Sylus teased. He looked down at the messages, and after a long moment a deep frown creased his face. “The Captain. You still trust him?”

“Not completely. We’ve spoken since the fight at headquarters. He apologized.” Zayne’s smirk fell, and his eyes looked more dull, heavy. “I want to believe him. I didn’t ask him to do anything, everything in that text about his mission is his own undertaking.”

“The Colonel found him.” Sylus pointed out. “It seems that he's in a position he can’t say no to.”

“I know.” Zayne said, tugging at his hair. “I know it’s not that simple. I just…don’t know how to protect him without telling him everything.”

“If he joins A.S.T.R.A. you have another in.” Sylus said practically. “But you run the risk of him getting a chip. A risk he doesn’t know about.”

Zayne’s shoulders hunched and his teeth grit, and he tried to stay receptive while he absorbed the fact that he did not know how to handle this situation. He didn’t know anything about a “Creatio Protocore” or how to navigate a situation with a god that could sooner kill Caleb than look at him. He knit his lower lip between his teeth in worry when he felt Sylus’ hand on his.

“Slow down.” Sylus said slowly, trying to permeate the anxiety he saw on Zayne’s face. “Think about this. Make the best decision based on the information you have and consider your goal. What do you want him to do, ultimately?”

Zayne sighed, and closed his eyes rubbing at them in thought.

“It’s alright.” Sylus said soothingly, pulling him in closer to wrap his arms around Zayne’s shoulders. “Let’s start simple. What is more important: recovering this protocore, or gathering information without tipping anyone off?”

“Information. Based on what I know, which is almost nothing, Caleb could get hurt if he interferes with the mission he’s on and anything he can tell us is a net positive.” Zayne reasoned. Sylus nodded.

“It’s a solid choice. Having someone on the inside is often worth the same if not more than the objects you’re seeking to steal.” Sylus added. Zayne typed out a message, instructing Caleb to go through with his mission and to stay under the radar. He put his phone face down on the bedspread and tried not to let the anxiety bother him.

“He might be able to make some headway on finding a way to deactivate your chip.” Zayne said. Sylus shook his head.

“Not if he’s going to Deepspace, Reaper.” Sylus said with a wry laugh.

“Don’t count him out yet. Maybe he can get his hands on one of those remotes that the Colonel used. If we can find out how it works, it could be a lead.” Zayne argued quietly. Another chuckle came from Sylus.

“I can tell you how it works.” Sylus said. “It’s a radio frequency, like a key fob or a television remote.”

Zayne stared at Sylus, trying to wrap his head around the idea. Sylus explained further.

“It’s simple, the device is designed to send a signal to the receiver.” Sylus pointed at his head. “The signal is encrypted in a way that allows it to communicate exclusively with that device or devices like it. If we got hold of one from the Fleet, it’s likely we could turn the chip off and on or reset it, but it wouldn’t deactivate.”

“How do you know this?” Zayne asked, impressed. Sylus let go of a genuine laugh, pretending to clutch invisible pearls at Zayne’s surprise.

“I’m not just a petty criminal, Reaper. After all, I built Mephisto. Engineering is something I enjoy greatly. It’s like a puzzle to pull something apart and figure out how it works.” Sylus felt his cheeks go pink while Zayne stared at him, a small smile on his face. Sylus cleared his throat. “You pick up a lot when you live in the underground.”
“Do you ever plan to go back?” Zayne asked curiously. Sylus sighed, staring straight ahead with a fallen face.

“I wanted to. Once I got my aethercore back, I’d planned to kill everyone on my list. I would have been satisfied, and too powerful for them to deny my re-entry into the Collective. Things would’ve gone back to the way they were supposed to be.” Sylus said listlessly.

“Do you miss them? Who you thought they were?”

“I think so.” Sylus said. “Truthfully, I haven’t taken the time to mourn the betrayal. Everytime I thought too hard about it, it was like things reset in my mind. I’d forget what I was trying to feel but remember what I was thinking about. They became like objects to me. Just people I was removed from. Like relics from the past.”

Zayne moved closer, nudging into the warmth of Sylus’ body with a frown.

“It’s not worth worrying over.” Sylus said, raising a hand to run his fingertips through Zayne’s hair. “There are far too many other things to worry about now.”

“Don’t say that.” Zayne shook his head and looked up at Sylus. “Don’t say that about things that are important to you.”

Sylus frowned back at him, gaze soft and searching. He wasn’t sure what to say to that, but Zayne seemed adamant. He pressed a soft kiss onto Zayne’s temple, and kept quiet.

“Do you mind if I dream of you tonight?” Zayne asked offhandedly. Sylus raised an eyebrow, looking down at him curiously.

“In what way?”

“Sometimes I see memories, sometimes I see things you’re blocking. Who knows, maybe there’s a way to counteract the chip.” Zayne said. Sylus cocked his head as if he wasn’t sure if he should believe Zayne or not. Then again, he’d met someone who was quite literally near godhood. He shouldn’t have been surprised.

“Alright, Reaper. Let’s make a game out of it.” Sylus said with a chuckle. Zayne rolled his eyes, but his chest felt warm to hear Sylus mention games; it seemed like a good sign. “Tell me something you dream about that I didn’t tell you first and I will steal something for you. Anything you want. Something that you wished for but never got to have.”

“And if I can’t?” Zayne said, eyebrows raised.

“Then I want to hear about one of your dreams of the other me.” Sylus said. “He must have something I don’t for you to have found him first.”
“That’s not fair.” Zayne said, sitting up to frown at Sylus. “You know I had no control over that.”

“I’d still like to know.” Sylus shrugged. “And it’s a perfectly fair trade.”

“I meant unfair to you, you stubborn ass.” Zayne said, making a tch noise with his teeth. “Don’t torture yourself with that.”

“Then win the bet.” Sylus said simply, pulling Zayne back down to rest beside him.

“I stopped dreaming of him when I found you, you know.” Zayne said quietly. “You’re the one I was looking for.”

“When did you start looking?” Sylus asked him. Zayne turned to lay on his side, throwing an arm across Sylus’ chest.

“When I learned you were real.” Zayne murmured. “I started getting dreams of another me, and the other you before that. I picked up some trinket in Diyu by chance, and ever since, your face has been in my head in one way or another.”

“Ah yes, a magic totem.” Sylus teased him. “Where did you find that, the cat lady in the Merchant’s District?”

“Close, but no.” Zayne chuckled. “The old man that sells Fleet parts, believe it or not. It was in a box full of equipment. He said it came from a storehouse somewhere, and someone probably grabbed something shiny.”

Sylus’ teasing smile melted a bit. He entertained a possibility, and tried to dismiss it just as quickly as coincidence.

“What did it look like?” he asked in spite of himself. Zayne traced circles on Sylus’ chest as he remembered.

“A large red gem. Ruby, maybe? It was a brooch set in black metal. Come to think of it, the carving on the setting was a crow.” Zayne answered idly. Sylus sat up, startling Zayne as he looked at him in wonder.

“That was mine. My lucky charm.” Sylus said with an awed smile. Zayne’s eyes went wide in shock. “What did you do with it? Do you have it?”

“I thought Godeater would have shown you…I had to give it up. The dragon needed it, it belonged to him first.” Zayne said apprehensively. Sylus’ face fell, disappointed, but the coincidence was still striking.

“It found me and then it found you.” Sylus shook his head with a chuckle. “Uneblievable.”
“How did you come to have it?”

Sylus leaned back in the bed, reaching out for Zayne to lay next to him. Zayne took his hand and faced him on his side, basking in the warmth of his chest as if Sylus were the sun. Sylus craned his neck to plant a kiss on Zayne’s temple before he gave a puckish smile.

“Why don’t you dream of it tonight, Reaper?” Sylus teased, flipping to his back and pulling Zayne in as if the matter was closed.

Zayne grit his teeth. How could this man be simultaneously so annoying, and yet so easy to fall for?

Chapter Text

Zayne woke before Sylus did, his mind burning with the image of Sylus face down in a pool of his own blood with a knife in his back. Zayne untangled himself from Sylus’ arms and torso and climbed over him to leave the room, too absorbed in his own thoughts to see the King of Thieves sit up with an apprehensive look.

Zayne thought he’d made his intention perfectly clear before he drifted to sleep last night; he focused on the stone, red and precious and gone now. He’d specifically tried to find the moment it came into Sylus’ possession, but instead ended up with the moment he’d lost it. His heart tugged painfully in his chest. The betrayal, the abandonment he must have felt.

Zayne wandered down the hall to a small kitchenette, past the bathroom and shower area that must have been used by employees when this place was still up and running. He looked in the fridge for water, but sighed when he remembered that he’d finished the last of the supply the day before. The taps and bathrooms worked just fine, but Zayne wasn’t thirsty enough at the moment to trust the water’s drinkability.

All Zayne could see in the fridge was a row of nutrient drinks and small bowl of fruit that Godeater had conjured before he left, and plucked a pear from the arrangement before he headed back to Sylus’ room. He took his time, picking at the stem of his pear uncomfortably as he mulled over the dream. He had seen the blind mission that Sylus had gone on in its entirety. He’d felt how much trust he had for his family and how he’d been double-crossed so swiftly. The only reason the Fleet had managed to capture Sylus was because he’d trusted his own family.

When he got back to the room, Sylus was sitting on the edge of the bed. He had already secured his eyepatch and was tying his hair behind his head in a messy half bun, leaving the lower half of his hair to flow onto his shoulders. Zayne stared for a moment in appreciation and Sylus gave him a quizzical look. Zayne shifted his eyes, trying to suppress the blush to his cheeks.

“I like your hair like that.” he said to Sylus with a soft smile. Sylus smirked. Noted.

“Where did you run off to?” Sylus eyed him, noting his lingering sullen expression. Zayne held up the pear, not saying anything as he sat on the bed next to Sylus. “‘You saw something last night, didn’t you?”

Zayne swallowed, and gave a short nod, toying with the fruit in his hands uncomfortably.

“It’s not an exact science to me, seeing into memories.” Zayne said quietly. “I tried to look for the moment when you’d gotten the brooch, but instead I saw the moment it was taken from you.”

“Tell me.” Sylus said gently, reaching for Zayne’s hand. Zayne looked up, surprised at the touch, but didn’t reject it.

“They drugged you and betrayed you. Someone you knew very well stabbed you, and waited for the Fleet to come to make sure you didn’t escape. And he took your lucky charm.” Zayne said, wincing at the memory of the growing pool of dark blood gushing onto the floor around Sylus. Sylus squeezed his hand.

“Then you heard what Johnny said to me before he left.”

“He said you would’ve made the same deal.” Zayne said softly. He looked up at Sylus, making sure to hold his gaze. “But he was wrong. You never would have sold out one of your own.”

“No. I wouldn’t have.” Sylus said. “I killed him when I escaped. Along with two others on the list.”

“Did it help?” asked Zayne. Sylus shrugged.

“I was chipped, I didn’t get to feel any kind of satisfaction. I didn’t feel anything at all, it just felt like something I had to do.” he replied.

“How did you escape, anyway?” Zayne said curiously. “You were in Skyhaven, how did you end up back here?”

“Truthfully, I don’t remember. It’s in pieces.” Sylus said, rubbing at his forehead. “I remember a plane, and an explosion. When I came to, I was near a Fleet vessel that had crashed. Maybe I stole it, I’m not sure.”

“And then you came here.”

“It’s right next to the building where we keep the garden. This seemed as fine a place as any to set up; plenty of room, private, unassuming.” Sylus said. Zayne nodded along with him. It made sense. He could tell that Zayne was still disturbed by the dream. He reached to brush Zayne’s jawline with his fingertips, guiding him to look at Sylus. “I lived, that’s what matters. Besides…”

Sylus’ tone turned dusky, playful, like a purring cat. He reached for Zayne’s wrist, guiding the pear to his lips. Keeping Zayne’s gaze, he sunk his teeth into the wafer-thin skin of the fruit and took a bite, passing his tongue over his lips to wick the juice off before it could drip down his chin.

“...it led me straight to you.” Sylus said with a sharp grin. Zayne swallowed and moved closer to Sylus, craning his head as if to kiss him, but closed his eyes and bit into the other side of the pear, smooth and indulgent. Sylus felt his pants tighten, and moved Zayne’s wrist out of the way to plant another smooth deep kiss against his lips, sweet with the juice of the pear.

“Putting my resolve to the test I see, Reaper.” Sylus chuckled against his lips. Zayne kissed him back with firm lips, raising a hand to his face as if assuring himself that the Sylus from his dream was left far far behind them both.

“Why don’t you ever call me by my name?” Zayne breathed, pulling away just enough to speak. His voice was soft, vulnerable. Throughout his life, people had called him many names; Dawnbreaker, the Grim Reaper, Grim, but none of those people knew him in the way he wanted Sylus to know him. He wanted to hear Sylus say it, to step out of their labels and just look at each other. “You know it, why won’t you say it?”

It was Sylus’ turn to look pained, guilty. There was a sense of longing in his face that made Zayne’s chest clutch.

“Because it’s too powerful. It’d be like looking directly at the sun.” Sylus said, moving back to cup Zayne’s cheek. Zayne leaned into the touch, eyes fluttering closed and warmth spreading through him like a sunrise.

“It’s just a name.” he murmured. Sylus shook his head.

“No it’s not. Not to me.” Sylus said. “Even looking at you with too much fondness meant pain and punishment. It made me forget those feelings over and over; I won’t risk that again. I imagine your name would be the most powerful thing I could say.”

“But we’re safe in this room.” Zayne pleaded, covering Sylus’ hand with his own. “We’re protected as long as you’re here. Please let go just a little.”

“And you’re probably right.” Sylus murmured, his own heart breaking. “Maybe nothing will happen, but maybe something will. Can’t you see that this is the only thing I can do to make sure you’re safe from me?”

Sylus tasted a bitterness on his tongue. This wasn’t fair to Zayne, none of it was, but it was the only thing Sylus could think to do to protect him from the confines of this tiny room. He wanted to say it. He wanted to chant it like a prayer while they were skin to skin and Sylus was giving him everything he deserved. He knew he was being over-cautious, but twice he had tried to kill the man in front of him. He was terrified to think of there being a third.

Zayne tried to hide the dejection on his face, but it wasn’t quite working. Sylus kissed him again, soft and reassuring.

“The moment the chip is deactivated, I won’t hesitate to give you everything you want.” Sylus promised him. “And I think I’ve come up with a way to get rid of it myself.”

Zayne’s eyes flew open wide, and he dropped the pear in his hand as he stared at Sylus.

“Tell me.” he said urgently. Sylus Kept his face neutral and calm, almost hesitant as he explained.

“We’ve established that the Colonel’s radio frequency signal will reset the chip, and potentially turn it off or on. If I were to build something similar, there’s a chance we could destroy it.” Sylus said.

“And that would stop the Colonel’s signal from re-activating it if it isn’t removed?” Zayne asked.

“Correct. The goal is not simply to deactivate it, but to completely dismantle it. I can build something to generate an electromagnetic pulse to overload the chip enough to break.”

“What would that do to you? Wouldn’t it hurt you?” Zayne said, teeth worrying at his lip.

“Not likely. The body isn’t an ideal conductor, and would be generally resistant to the pulse unless it’s fired on a significantly high level. The danger is that when the chip shorts and burns up, there’s a possibility of brain damage.” Sylus admitted. “However, I can heal. As long as the damage didn’t kill me instantly, I can heal through it.”

“No. We should wait for word from the Doctor or Caleb and try to take it out without the risk. Weren’t you the one who’s insisting on erring on the side of caution?” Zayne said incredulously. He couldn’t believe how careful Sylus was in matters that had to do with Zayne, but would risk his own safety with the next breath.

“The old fashioned way is a procedure. The likelihood that any one of us can perform an extraction with a risk lower than this is zero to none.” Sylus argued. “This is how I’m going to proceed unless you have another option that doesn’t involve a hack surgery or sneaking into another Fleet facility.”

Zayne scowled at Sylus, unable to find a fault in his reasoning. Sylus smirked at him.

“You’re insane.” Zayne said, resigned.

“It’s part of my charm.” Sylus chuckled. “Now, I don’t know that I have room for a bench in this space, so I may need to clear out the bed.”

Zayne listened to Sylus muse about what he needed and how he was going to go about making the space for this project, and an idea formed. He got up silently and fetched the potted jasmine on the side table, placing it in Sylus’ hands. Sylus stopped talking and looked up at him quizzically. Zayne circled Sylus’ wrist with his fingers and tugged, getting him to his feet to lead him out of the room. He could feel Sylus’ discomfort and trepidation as Zayne wordlessly led him out the door, guiding him through the red barrier, and down the hallway until they were back in the wide open space of the warehouse. In truth, Zayne wasn't sure that it would work at all; the barrier was designed to keep Sylus contained, but leading him through it with the jasmine in hand seemed to permit his passage out into the hall.

“Do you feel like killing me?” Zayne asked simply, crossing his arms over his chest. Sylus looked at him with a narrowed gaze.

“Not entirely.” he said irritably before his set jaw gave way to laughter. “You’re so obstinate.”

“It’s part of my charm.” Zayne fired back. “Now tell me what you need.”

They set to work. Sylus used his Evol to bring various materials from different parts of the warehouse; a bench, a pat of graph paper, tools and scraps. He sat down at the bench, placing the jasmine next to him as he started to sketch the build he had in mind. Zayne took his place opposite of Sylus at the work bench with his laptop, scouring through Fleet records for more information on “The Unicorn.”

“How did you know that her codename was “Unicorn?” Zayne said thoughtfully, not looking up from his task.

“I heard people talking about it. They kept me sedated most of the time; I couldn’t even use my Evol, and I drifted in and out of consciousness quite frequently.” Sylus said absentmindedly, taking an eraser to the page he was working on. “The ones tasked with running tests and taking my blood felt as though they could say a lot in front of me. They spoke about “The Unicorn” somewhat frequently, and I could gather that it was referring to another test subject.”

“What kinds of things would they say?” Zayne asked curiously, looking up from his query search. Sylus rested his chin on his hand, flicking his gaze up to Zayne.

“They spoke of energy readings. Apparently The Unicorn was generating so much energy that anyone who approached the subject ran the risk of being killed on the spot. At one point, no one could enter the room without perishing.” Sylus said. “Is that something her Evol can do?”

“No.” Zayne said, brow furrowed. “She has the resonance Evol, an enhancement ability. I don’t know how that could be possible. Are you sure they were speaking about her?”

“As far as I know, there was only one other aethercore user in the facility. Only one they spoke about at least.” Sylus said. “I never got a look at her, but they wanted her power and seemed willing to sacrifice their own people to get it.”

A shiver ran up Zayne’s spine. She was ruthless in battle with Alterum and Wanderers, but it was difficult to picture her harming another person let alone killing them on sight. Every time he got closer to the truth, it felt like taking another step back from the bigger picture. He sighed, knowing what he’d have to do to reach the truth. He needed another vision.
__

The day seemed to fly by. Sylus began to assemble pieces in a strange structure that took up the width of the work bench. Zayne was getting nowhere with his scan of the Fleet database, or meditation to reach out to her. No visions, simply ripple of images that amounted to nothing. at least one of us is making progress. Zayne thought, resigned.

Eventually they found themselves back in bed, minds exhausted and bodies sluggish. Sylus took off his eyepatch and let his hair down before turning to lay on his side, reaching to pull Zayne closer to him.

“You won our game, by the way.” He murmured into Zayne’s ear. “You found something I never told you about.”

Zayne gave a wry chuckle. He didn’t consider observing one of the worst memories Sylus ever had a victory in any capacity.

“So…what do you want?” Sylus asked him. “Anything you want, I can steal it for you. Name it, and it’s yours.”

Zayne thought for a bit. The question was a perplexing one. He’d been living for survival for so long, there wasn’t much thought given to objects or petty wants.

“When we were children, we talked about buying a cake that was so big we wouldn’t have to find food for the next week.” Zayne said fondly. “Perhaps that, when we finally get her back.”

“Noble, but no.” Sylus said to him, hugging him tighter, and brushing his thumb up and down Zayne’s skin. “I’m not doing this for anyone else. Only you. What’s something you’ve always wanted to have but never got?”

Zayne thought again, and a memory rose to the surface.

“It was the October after I’d turned twelve years old.” Zayne said quietly, a vulnerable feeling sinking into his skin. The pressure of Sylus laying with him and holding him secure spurned him on. “My parents asked me if there was something that I wanted for Christmas. I asked them for a Lumibook.”

“A digital book?” Sylus asked. Zayne chuckled, weaving his arms across Sylus’ across his torso.

“Not just that; it had a digital library of over a thousand titles. By that time, traditional libraries were shut down. It was difficult to find books on my own and all I wanted was to read.” Zayne said, the small smile he wore dissolved from his face when he remembered what came next. “But they never made it to Christmas.”

A silence hung in the air between them still and sorrowful. Sylus tucked his chin over Zayne’s shoulder and spoke to him softly.

“Consider it yours.”

Chapter Text

The scene in front of Zayne was a bloodbath. Half-broken fluorescent lights flickered on and off and bathed the room in a sickly green light. He was in a lab of some sort, similar to the surgical suite that had robbed Sylus of his eye. Monitors and medical equipment lay broken and destroyed from being thrown across the room at a terminal force. Red streaked the walls in splatters and gruesome stains. Glass littered the floor, bathed in crimson pools of blood that had stopped draining from the lifeless bodies on the floor already.

Zayne gathered enough to know that he was dreaming, but this time he was not a passenger. An eerie feeling came over him as he stepped over bodies, some intact, some completely obliterated. It was impossible to tell exactly how many bodies were discarded on the floor like trash, but it was enough to ensure that there was gore no matter where he looked. A badge caught his eye, attached to the lab coat of a woman with her eyes frozen wide in fear forever; the A.S.T.R.A. title in bold blue letters was emblazoned at the bottom of the thick plastic card, and Zayne felt himself pale.

”Don’t worry, Zayne. I’m okay.” came a familiar voice. One that Zayne had longed to hear for over half of a year.

“Meimei…” Zayne murmured, eyes darting around the room. He felt an energy at his back, but no matter how many times he turned around he couldn’t see her, only sensed her presence growing stronger and stronger. “Did you…?”

“Yes.” she answered without hesitation. “They were trying to hurt me, and the aethercore saved me. It’s been protecting me this whole time.”

Her voice sounded far away, echoing as if in a tunnel. Zayne continued to scan the room anxiously, looking for any trace of her or evidence that she was well and alive.

“This is Skyhaven, isn’t it?” Zayne asked her, remembering Sylus’ epiphany.

“Yes.” she answered, echoing tone sounding tired, as if she was dreaming herself. “But they’re going to move me soon.”

“How can you be sure?” he asked her, swallowing to soothe his dry throat as a lump of emotion grew and festered inside of him. She was so close, and yet incredibly far away.

“I’m going to force their hand.”

Her tone had gone ice-cold. Full of resolve and determination with a darkened edge. Zayne shivered, grasping at straws to find the light and smile to her voice and coming up empty.

“You’ll know when to look for me back home, I promise.” her voice assured him. Zayne felt tears prick his eyes.

“I’ve missed you so much.” he said softly. “I’ve been trying to find you for so long.”

“I know, I knew neither of you would give up. I’ve missed you both. It’s cold here. Lonely.” she said sorrowfully. “But I’ll be home soon, I promise.”

“What happened to you? Tell me what you’re planning to do, we can help you.” Zayne said, whipping his head around at the feeling of warm energy approaching him, but finding no one there. He felt mad in this place of viscera and death, but a sense of hope had begun to claw its way out of the grave.

“No time. You’re about to wake up.” she said quickly, and repeated herself. “Just wait for the signs. You’ll know when to look for me. We’ll all be together again soon.”

Zayne shouted her name as he felt the scene in front of him melt away from his sight, begging her for more, trying to hang onto the dream before he was tossed back into the depths of darkness and felt warm hands on his face trying to rouse him.

___

Sylus had no sooner shouted a command for Zayne to wake when his eyes snapped open and he shook within Sylus’ arms as they lay together on the bed, gasping for air as if he’d been drowning. His face was pale, his forehead beaded in a cold sweat, and Sylus didn’t let him go. He wondered if Zayne had ever had someone to hold him when his nightmares forced him awake so violently. Sylus leaned forward to kiss his temple, trying to soothe him.

“Someone is here.” Sylus murmured. “I heard something outside.”

Zayne’s chest heaved with deep breaths, and his panicked eyes shifted to the closed door of the room. On autopilot, Zayne shifted to get up, but Sylus held him fast.

“What happened?” Sylus asked him. “You were shouting. Are you alright?”

Zayne nodded, as if he was still in a trance, the scene of a massacre still fresh in his mind.

“I spoke to her.” he said, mouth dry and throat cracked. Sylus shifted to bring him closer to his chest, sharing his heartbeat with Zayne. Zayne tensed, a sense of duty robbing him of his warmth. “They must be back. I need to speak to the Godeater.”

“They can wait.” Sylus cut him off, holding him closer and refusing to relent in his grasp around Zayne. “They can wait until you’re ready.”

Zayne stilled, the will to argue leaving his mind. His eyes closed in a deep disturbance. He couldn’t tell if he was clinging to the dream or willing it away.

“There was so much blood.” he whispered.

“Is she hurt?” Sylus said, concern lacing his voice in a way that Zayne found endearing. The quick, irregular beat in Sylus’ chest was calming, and Zayne was slowly finding his breath. Zayne felt anchored in his strong embrace, as if it was the safest place in the world.

“No. On the contrary, she seems to be the harbinger of death for those who try to harm her.” Zaye said. Sylus couldn’t help but find a smile at that.

“You taught her well.” Sylus said, burying his face in Zayne’s neck.

The thought brought Zayne comfort as he clung to Sylus’ arms around him. He’d always told her to keep herself safe, to prioritize her own life over a fight. The extreme situation he’d seen still haunted him, wondering how she’d done it. She’d spoken of her aethercore to protect her, and from their short conversation it seemed as though she was using every single advantage she had to keep herself alive.

A knock at the door made Zayne tense in Sylus’ arms. He took a deep breath, trying to chase away the sinking feeling in his chest. This time Sylus let him go as he sat up, swinging his legs over the side of the bed to get to his feet and open the door in a groggy haze.

The Doctor stared back at him, a soft frown of concern on his face.

“The sorcerer filled me in.” said the Doctor. “Is everything okay?”

“Where is he?” Zayne asked, inadvertently letting an edge of urgency into his voice. “I need to speak with him immediately.”

“He’s asleep.” said the Doctor with a shake of his head. “You know how difficult the trips can be for him. What happened?”

“I saw her in my dream. We spoke.” Zayne said. “We’re getting closer, but I need his help to make sense of what I saw. She’s alive, and she’s been protecting herself all this time. Something to do with the aethercore.”

A deep velvet voice chuckled from the hallway. Carrion finished buckling his eyepatch into place, perking up at the familiar tones and recognizing them as his own voice. A man stepped into view; tall, dressed entirely in black with short, impeccably styled hair. A cheshire smile played across his lips.

“A survivor in every reality. Unsurprising.” said none other than the Relentless Conqueror. The Doctor's Sylus. Zayne was stunned, his shoulders tensing and his mouth falling open in shock. Carrion stared at his counterpart with a mix of unease and curiosity. Something else bubbled under the surface as he took in the man from Zayne’s dreams, so polished and put together. His lips drew into a thin line.

Carrion crossed the room, slyly putting himself between them to examine the man who wore his face. He folded his arms across his chest defensively. His counterpart held his eye contact, refusing to back down. They were alike in nearly every way; from their height to their body type, the color of their hair, and even the way they stood.

“So this is the The Relentless Conqueror you’ve been dreaming of, Reaper. Devilishly handsome.” Carrion said dryly, dragging his gaze over the leather jacket and pants, fingerless gloves, and expensive-looking boots.

“Sylus” is fine.” said his counterpart, folding his own arms with an amused glimmer in his eyes. His tone matched Carrion’s, apprehensive and with a faint trace of mocking. “What a privilege it is to hold court with the King of Thieves himself. Impressive security system. Is it armed?”

“Carrion” will do. And I’m afraid there’s no way to know. Unless you’re from the Fleet and you’re making the mistake of tresspassing, that is.”

Twin smirks bloomed to life on both of their faces. Sylus extended a hand, and Carrion took it, shaking his hand firmly. Behind them, the sound of squawking filled the air. Sylus turned to look and Carrion craned his head out of the doorway to follow his gaze. Two mechanical crows postured and shrieked at each other on top of the desk outside of the hall. One had his wings aloft and fanned out in a display of intimidation while the other pecked harshly with his sharp metal beak.

“Mephisto!” both of them said at once in the exact same scolding tone.

At the sound of twin voices calling out to them, both crows stopped to look at their masters, cocking their heads with interest at their unison. One of the birds took flight, hopping off of the desk and gliding to land on the Doctor’s shoulder. The Doctor raised a hand to scratch softly at the feathers at Mephisto’s breast and Carrion could see the slight differences in their hardware; this crow’s mechanics were shiny and polished, the metal of his beak pristine without the scuff marks his own crow had accumulated through basic wear and tear.

“Did you find anything that could help us with extracting the chip?” Zayne said, addressing the Doctor. The Doctor shook his head, the craw on his shoulder bobbing with his movement.

“It was as we suspected. Outside of a surgical procedure or a robotic dissolving method, there wasn’t anything our Caleb could recall that would be helpful. His own chip was dissolved by repurposed Fleet machinery.” said the Doctor. “I’m sorry.”

“We’ve found another way.” Carrion spoke up, facing the Doctor. “I’ve already started preparations. If I’m right, an electromagnetic pulse will decommission the chip permanently.”

The Doctor caught the deeply uncomfortable expression on Zayne’s face. He said nothing, and seemed willing to allow this plan to proceed, but the Doctor knew that Zayne had been hoping for any other way. From what he could gather, this plan did not come without its risks.

“I see your logic.” Sylus said with a nod to Carrion. “Let me help. The sooner we can dispatch the chip, the sooner we can focus on the real enemy and work towards bringing her back safely.”

Carrion eyed Sylus, still hesitant to fully accept his presence, but nodded in acknowledgement.

“I’ll show you what I have so far.” he said, turning back to cross the room to pick up the black painted flower pot so that he could leave the room. He passed Zayne on his way out, and paused to sweep a hand across his lower back and plant a kiss to his temple. “Don’t worry.”

Zayne leaned into his touch, but his frown stayed. How could he not worry? How could he not be anxious about a plan that gambled with Carrion’s life? He said nothing, trying to bite back his fear. If Carrion could find the strength and the bravery to push forward, so could he. If the roles had been reversed, Zayne couldn’t say he’d be acting any differently. They were alike in many ways. Both clung to what mattered, no matter the risks, no matter the cost. Even when the odds were stacked against them, they both wanted to see this through to the end.

Carrion stepped out of the room with Sylus and noticed a cluster of black suitcases stacked against the wall. He raised an eyebrow at Sylus who merely shrugged.

“Better to be overprepared than underprepared, don’t you think?”

Carrion couldn’t argue with that. He gestured with his eyes to the floor above them.

“You can have any room that isn’t occupied. I’m afraid I don’t have much in the way of furniture to offer you.” he told Sylus, who turned to lay hands on the various bags leaned up against the wall.

“We’ll manage. Thank you.” Sylus said courteously, and disappeared in a black-red swirl of mist, taking his bags with him. It was an odd feeling playing host to anyone, let alone himself.

The sick, mean feeling in his gut bubbled with a hint of jealousy at Sylus. He seemed to have everything together, from his polished appearance to the fact that he still had his aethercore. That thought alone seeded a layer of resentment that Carrion knew would not serve him or anyone in their ranks, so he elected to keep it to himself. With a renewed grip on the flower pot, he left the room to walk to his work station and continue where he’d left off the day before.

Zayne watched after him, expression unchanging and throat swallowing uncomfortably. He looked back at the Doctor, trying to move on.

“How are you here?” he asked. “The only jasmine point should be back at my apartment.”

“Not anymore.” said the Doctor with a small smile. “I don’t know what you did, but there’s another blossom now; a datura. It led us straight here. Godeater can explain further.”

Zayne furrowed his brow. How could that be? He remembered seeing another small bud just a few days ago, but how had it grown so quickly? He brought his fingers to the bridge of his nose. He needed Godeater’s input more than ever.

“So all we can do is wait until the Godeater awakens.” Zayne said, hands tightening in frustration. Mephisto took off from the Doctor’s shoulder as he nodded with a grim face.

“It appears that way.” he said stoically.

Zayne felt his jaw tighten and he gave an irritated sigh. It seemed as though they were always waiting for something.
___

For the most part, the leader of Onychinus and the King of Thieves worked in silence, only speaking to pass tools back and forth or for small talk about the design. Carrion compartmentalized his uneasiness, and Sylus didn’t press. Slowly, junk and scrap was coming together to form a machine that resembled some sort of gun with a cannon-like barrel.

Carrion had to give credit where it was due; Sylus was just as skilled as he was, and his craftsmanship was unparalleled. He felt confident in their work, and slowly, his discomfort started to subside. Having another identical set of hands was exactly what they needed to finish this as quickly as possible.

Across the room, the Doctor was coaching Zayne through new techniques for control and use of his Evol. The Doctor had conjured a perfectly functional bow and arrow, pristine with a slight blue tint and complete with a bowstring that moved and behaved with the springyness of an actual string. After many attempts, Zayne had reached the point of summoning a bow, but without any functional use. The string was delicate and shattered at the slightest touch. Zayne dissolved the black bow of ice, a grimace on his face.

“You’re getting closer. You need to think of the components of the string as tiny components locked together rather than one unit.” the Doctor said, holding his bow up to pull the string back. “This is no string, but a series of microscopic crystals attached end to end to move as string.”

Zayne stared at him.

“How do you manage to conjure it all at once?” he asked, working the cold out of his fingers and wrists.

“Practice.” the Doctor said, dissolving his own bow. “It helped me to be mindful with my Evol usage to create something so intricate. I’d hazard a guess that it’s prevented quite a few accidents. It took me months to truly master.”

“Zayne.”

Both the Doctor and Zayne looked up at the same time at the sound of Sylus’ voice. Carrion beckoned them over to the workbench to show them their progress. The pulse machine was almost fully formed, resembling a hand-cannon. Large enough to need support from a tripod, but there were several pieces that seemed disjointed and missing.

“We’re almost finished, but we’re missing several key components.” Carrion said. “I didn’t have much scrap to work with around here to begin with, and I’m going to need more parts to complete this.”

“Make me a list, I can make a run to Diyu. We need more water as well.” Zayne said with a nod.

“Use my cache, it’ll be faster.” Carrion said, ripping a sheet of paper out of the pad of graph paper and scrawling down the names of various parts. “After the plane crash from Skyhaven, I went back and stripped it for parts. They’re stored in another safe house about a mile to the east.”

Carrion continued to describe the warehouse and wrote out the passcode to get inside alongside his list. It seemed simple enough to Zayne, and he could stop for water at the nearby bodega for water on the way back; his books were still full thanks to Carrion. However, when he looked at the list his brow furrowed.

“I have no idea what any of these things are.” Zayne admitted, holding the list up with a quirked eyebrow. Carrion’s lips formed a thin line and he took the list to smooth out on the table, pointing to each item and explaining what they looked like. The longer he talked, the more confused Zayne looked. He was talented in many different things, easily one of the most intelligent people that Carrion had ever met, but he was no engineer.

“I’ll go.” Sylus interrupted them. “I know as much as you do about what we’re trying to accomplish, I’ll go with him.”

Zayne looked relieved, and Cerrion looked tense. The silence was far more tense than it needed to be, and dragged on for far too long. No matter how long Carrion thought about it, he couldn’t come up with anything different. This really was the best way, and considering the circumstances, it was even lucky that Sylus was there to help.

“Thank you.” Carrion said with a polite nod. “I should have everything we need in the cache. If something’s missing, then you can plan a trip to Diyu.”

Zayne pocketed the list, the tense energy coming from Sylus made him feel more awkward than he had before. For Zayne, the awkward feeling in his stomach was very similar to how he’d first felt meeting the Doctor; he felt like a voyeur, someone who had seen so many private and intimate moments that weren’t meant for anyone else’s eyes. A sense of guilt tugged at him for invading their privacy, even when he had no say in the matter. He was embarrassed. But the looks that Carrion was giving to Sylus along with his body language spelled distrust. Was he wary of his other self, or simply jealous?

Zayne circled Carrion’s wrist with his fingers to get his attention and pulled him in for a soft kiss.

“I’ll be back.” he said gently. “We’re so close to the end, just hang on.”

Zayne turned to leave when he felt a hand grab his arm and pull him back in for a kiss even deeper, claiming, rough. Carrion pulled away, tucking a lock of hair behind Zayne’s ear.

“Come back to me.” he whispered. The phrase made a warmth pool in Zayne’s chest, soft and sweet. The kind of feeling that made him not want to move from where he stood. With a sigh, Zayne stepped away, throwing Carrion a reassuring look as he headed for the door where Sylus and the Doctor were sharing a similar kiss.

When the door closed behind Sylus and Zayne, Carrion chewed on the inside of his lip thoughtfully. He tried to busy himself, flipping open his pad of graph paper to an old schematic that contained ideas for upgrading Mephisto, and making him cold-proof. Carrion sat in front of the incomplete weapon on the workbench, raking fingers through his silver hair, but he couldn’t focus. He fiddled with scraps of metal, but nothing seemed to occupy his hands for long. Finally, he settled on cleaning his handguns, taking them apart on a clear spot on the work bench in front of him to give him something to do.

He was so lost in his own thoughts that he startled when he heard the clack of another handgun being placed on the workbench. He looked up to see the Doctor take a seat.

“Do you mind if I join you?” he asked more out of courtesy than anything else. Carrion shrugged.

“Do as you please.” Carrion said, lubricating the slide mechanism on one of the guns with slick fingers. Curiously, he watched the Doctor disassemble his weapon expertly and begin to clean each component. “You don’t seem the type to carry a firearm.”

“I’m the type to be prepared.” said the Doctor without looking up. “And it puts Sylus’ mind at ease.”

Carrion chuckled, fingers working a polishing cloth over the cool metal. He studied the Doctor’s face. A pair of square-rimmed glasses balanced on the bridge of his nose, and his green eyes were focused, lips parted as he examined every piece of his weapon with chilling precision. It was the same expression Zayne made when he was concentrating. Syus felt a shiver run down his spine at how eerily similar they were through their differences.

“It’s strange, isn’t it?” said the Doctor suddenly as he picked up another piece of his gun to clean with a microfiber cloth. “To see your face on someone else. It’s a lot to take in.”

“That it is.” Carrion said, holding back a sigh.

“If it helps, I was not fond of Dawnbreaker either when we first met.”

“I don’t dislike him. He’s been nothing but helpful. The pulse would have taken twice as long to build without him.” Carrion said defensively, narrowing his eyes at the Doctor. The Doctor placed down the piece he’d been holding on the surface of the workbench and locked eyes with Carrion.

“I was being polite. You’re jealous.”

Sylus gaze went wide for just a moment before he reigned himself back in at the straightforward accusation. He huffed in irritation.

“It does me no favors to be jealous of myself, Doctor. That’s ridiculous.” Carrion said with a scoff. The Doctor saw right through him.

“Emotional matters seldom behave according to logic, believe me.” the Doctor said, reaching for the can of Ballistol in front of Carrion. “The question is, what are you jealous of?”

Carrion fiddled with a metal component between his fingers, feeling far too exposed in this conversation and with no way to escape it. He wet his lips, deciding to take a leap of confidence. What did he have to lose?

“He saw him before he ever thought of me.” Carrion admitted quietly. “He watched for months as your Sylus gave you everything you could ever want. I can’t give him half of what your Sylus has given you. I have no empire, my power was stolen from me, my riches are finite. At this moment, I can barely give him my mind. I worry that I’m nothing compared to what he’s seen before.”

The Doctor chuckled, letting loose an honest laugh at Carrion’s words. It was irritating, but not mocking. It seemed as though the Doctor knew something he didn’t.

“Do you truly believe that Dawnbraker cares if you have any of those things?” he asked. Sylus glared at him, a silent order not to mock him. The Doctor continued. “When I fell in love with Sylus, it was because of who he was. Who I knew him to be. He treated me with respect, and others with decency. He knew what really mattered without having to try. He’s extraordinary and sincere. He challenged me in the best possible way. All the material embellishments are secondary. I have no need for what he owns, only for him.”

The Doctor began to slot his weapon back together as Carrion listened to him go on.

“Do you really want an empire, power, or money, or are you simply looking for gifts to place at his feet?” the Doctor asked, knowing that Carrion wouldn’t answer him. “Because if the latter is true, I can assure you that you already possess the things he wants the most.”

“‘And what would that be?” Carrion asked, hanging on the Doctor’s every word.

The Doctor slid a fully-loaded magazine into the newly-assembled weapon and pulled back the slide to chamber a round with practised ease.

“Figure it out.”

Chapter Text

The trip to the cache had been silent between Zayne and Sylus, the Relentless Conqueror. Sylus seemed nonchalant, simply focused on getting what they needed and packing the parts delicately into the bag Zayne held out for him. The storage space was impressive; everything was catalogued and labeled to a T, and much to Zayne’s surprise, they even found a stash of water, about five gallons hidden away in a corner. Zayne smiled. He thought of everything.

“You must be worried about him.” Sylus said, a gallon of water on each hand as they trudged down an empty street.

“Yes.” Zayne said with a stoic nod. “The chip has taken far too much from him. I want this to be over for him.”

“There’s another reason you’re nervous, isn’t there?” Sylus asked him and paused when Zayne came to a full stop at the implication. His mouth felt dry, and the corners of his mouth sank on his cheeks into a frown. His eyes were spacey, pensive. Sylus didn’t push, only waited for Zayne to speak.

“When we finally break the chip inside of him, he’ll have every reason to leave this behind. And why wouldn’t he? He has his own goals, his own decisions to make. All I’ve given him are hurdles, hardship.” Zayne admitted, his grip tightening on the strap of the bag he carried and on the handle of a plastic gallon of water. His eyes were downcast, and his tone was miserable. “I’ve given him nothing of value. I’m afraid to know if I’m nothing more than a passing fascination.”

Sylus’ jaw tightened to conceal his amusement, but he couldn’t quite contain the laughter in his chest. Zayne glared angrily at him. He was vulnerable enough to share his concerns and he was being laughed at?

“Please don’t make that face, my husband wears the same one when I’m in trouble and it’s incredibly surreal to see it on anyone else.” Sylus said with ease, as if it was all trivial to him. Zayne didn’t break eye contact and he saw Sylus shiver, just a little. “I know the look of jealousy on my own face when I see it. If he’s putting the mental load into being wary of others around you, I can assure you that you’re no passing thrill. Besides, things are fresh, give it time. I think you’ll be pleased to see his willingness to stay by your side when his chip finally breaks.”

Zayne shook his head, shoulders and jaw sore from tensing. The words were comforting but how could this Sylus possibly understand given the near-utopia he came from?

“It seems so easy for you two.” he said bitterly. Sylus chuckled again, earning another glare from Zayne.

“Loving Zayne is the easiest thing in the world.” Sylus said with a soft, fond smile on his face as if remembering. “It’s life and outside forces that make things difficult. In any case, you two have something that my dear Doctor and I did not when we first met.”

“Oh?” Zayne said with a roll of his eyes. Sylus smirked.

“Matching scars. You met each other directly after losing it all. His power, your family…You were both thrown into the fire, and you found each other anyway.” Sylus said, equal parts smug and sincere. “And now you can rebuild together or you can finish what the fire started and burn it all down. To be united in such a way is something that is unique to you both. It took us several missteps to reach that sort of alignment.”

Sylus’ words were reassuring, and Zayne wanted to believe him.

“That’s a nice way to look at it. Thank you.” he said as he started to walk again, stepping into stride towards the warehouse. More relaxed, he tried to change the subject. “How is your daughter?”

“Much better.” Sylus said with a proud smile. “Since Zayne is more himself these days, she’s been far happier. I worry that she’s missing both of us now, but she and Amelia are close, so I imagine they’re playing “Princess Assassins” to a level that drives Caleb and her auntie to the brink while she stays with them.”

“Princess Assassins?” Zayne asked with a quirk of his brow.

“Don’t ask.”

A pang in Zayne’s heart resonated at the mention of Caleb. He hoped he was returning from his mission by now, but it was always difficult to tell when it included trips to the Deepspace Tunnel. They were only in the beginning of fixing things in this world, but in Sylus’ world, Caleb was healed. Happy. Zayne felt a twinge of jealousy.

“I haven’t dreamed of your world in quite a while.” Zayne said passively. “There are times that I wish I could, if only because your world is one where she and Caleb are happy. It’s the only place where my family is together and fulfilled.”

“You are on the cusp of getting them back, if your dreams are anything to go by,” Sylus said. “There’s hope.”

“There is.” Zayne agreed with a deep nod, keeping his eyes on the path in front of them. “And a long road ahead.”

Sylus found himself in an interesting position. Luck had favored both him and his Zayne in their lots in life, and outside forces had robbed Dawnbreaker and Carrion of any sort of organic first impressions. He couldn't imagine what that would do to a person. He sighed, trying to choose his words carefully. He wanted to help. To give them something now that he was here.

“You look like you need a win.” Sylus said, and it made Zayne stiffen with the familiar terminology so natural on a stranger’s lips. “May I offer some uncouth advice?”

“You may.” Zayne said trepidatiously, narrowing his eyes at Sylus out of curiosity.

“There’s a spot on his inner thigh on the right side.” Sylus said confidently. “Bite it. Don’t worry about the pain, just bite to bruise. Trust me.”

Zayne went pink in the ears as they neared the warehouse, staring at Sylus wide-eyed before he broke into laughter at the pure absurdity of their situation. Sylus smiled along with him as Zayne input the code to enter and deliver their bounty.
___

The work began immediately upon their return. If it was possible for Sylus and Carrion to work in perfect sync it happened now, both much more at ease with each other’s presence as they assembled, tooled and welded pieces into place. Zayne found it incredible to watch them work together, so totally in sync on a completely different level.

The Doctor joined Zayne in a corner of the room with the perfect view of the genius taking place in front of them, offering him a macaron. Zayne took it, sinking his teeth into something soft helped with the antsy feeling in his gut.

“He could destroy the world if he wanted to.” Zayne said with the taste of strawberry on his tongue, breath taken by the man in front of him.

“So could you.” the Doctor said, biting into his own macaron. “Perhaps it’s why we’re so compatible with him.”

“Maybe.” Zayne said pensively with another bite of his macaron.

The two stood watch as Sylus and Carrion positioned a chip pulled from a computer against the brick wall with a drop of glue to keep it steady. Sylus finished soldering several delicately thin wires to it, red eyes flickering to the laptop they led to beside him to watch as a program booted to life, displaying signs that the disembodied chip was active.

“We’re ready.” Sylus said to Carrion, stepping out of the way.

Carrion kneeled, fiddling with the heavy tripod that held up the cannon-like EMP machine, a grim expression on his face. Sylus picked up a screwdriver to tighten the last few screws on the device and noticed Carrion’s sullen expression.

“If this experiment is successful, your chip is as good as gone.” he said reassuringly. Carrion scoffed, a dry smile playing on his lips.

“This machine could also simply kill me.” Carrion replied, rising to help Sylus do final checks on the components and integrity of the build.

“Do you love him?” Sylus asked him, not looking up from his work. Carrion felt his back go rigid at the deeply personal question, but wasn’t sure how to answer it.

“I don’t know.” Carrion answered truthfully. “Part of me feels like we haven’t been properly introduced yet. And before, when feelings surrounding him arose in me, they were taken away. Wiped clean in a way I couldn’t hold onto. Now that I can feel everything, it’s paralyzing. It’s mixed with a thousand other things I’ve been straining to feel.”

“Would you rather take this risk, knowing that there’s a chance at a true connection between you waiting on the other side? Or would you rather not know at all? Would you bet your life on trying to meet him?” Sylus asked him, lowering his hands from the cannon to look at Carrion.

“I want to know.” Carrion said without hesitation. “I feel like I’m swimming against a current trying to reach him. I want to see him clearly, even if it kills me.”

“Then what’s holding you back? What are you afraid of?” Sylus asked his other self. Carrion regarded him with a stony expression, but it slowly gave way to a softer, sadder frown.

“That when he sees who I truly am, he’ll recoil.” Carrion said quietly. “What if he sees me and dislikes what he finds?”

Sylus put down his screw driver, a smirk pulling at his lips.

“When Zayne chooses someone, he never lets go. Nothing can make him back down or loosen his grip. If he’s chosen you, you are irrevocably his.” Sylus said with a fond smile. “I think that’s something worth fighting the current for.”

Carrion glanced to the opposite corner of the wide open floor of the warehouse to see two Zaynes speaking quietly to each other.

“Fire it.” Carrion said decisively.

Sylus grinned and pulled the trigger on their work of art. A blaring, vibrational noise came from the cannon as a heavy pulse tore through the air to consume their test chip. Papers on the desk nearby fluttered, and Carrion saw the chip glow red-hot before fizzling out completely. He walked over to the wall to see singe marks circling it, and Sylus looked down at the screen.

“Shorted out.” he reported with a smile. “It’s completely inoperable. We’ve done it.”

Carrion eyed the burn marks in the wall with trepidation, and nervousness sat sour in his stomach.

“Then we’re ready. No time to waste.” he said, trying to banish nerves from his voice. Sylus gave him a nod and trotted over to the Doctor to begin preparations.

Zayne approached Carrion, noting the anxious expression on his face as he stared at the wall. He felt a cool hand slide into his.

“You don’t have to do this. We can still find another way.” Zayne said, bringing a voice to Carrion’s unspoken fear. Carrion swallowed, shaking his head. He brought a feather-light touch to the yellowing bruise around Zayne’s neck and the familiar shot of guilt clawed at his chest.

“No. I can handle it.” he said, trying to sound reassuring. Zayne squeezed his hand. “Short of a true medical procedure, this is our best option. You know that, Reaper.”

Zayne nodded solemnly, and remembered Carrion’s words from before he’d left with Sylus. He leaned in, pressing their foreheads together.

“Just come back to me.” he murmured, puzzling their lips together in a firm kiss. “That’s all I can ask of you.”

Carrion sighed into the kiss, circling an arm around his waist. They were so close to victory that he could taste it. All it was going to take was one final leap into the unknown. He could handle that. He could do it for Zayne. Under the warmth of Zayne’s hand stroking against his cheek, he dared to hope. He pictured taking Zayne to see the flowers again, holding his hand and kissing him boldly without fear. He pictured giving into his own heart without the threat of causing him pain. Everything that Zayne deserved; gentle touches, kind words, safety, someone to hold him through his nightmares and make sure he didn’t have to walk this desolate landscape alone like he had for so long. They were all things that Carrion silently vowed to give to him.

“I promise.” he murmured, pressing their lips together again.

“We’re ready.” Sylus said from across the room.

Carrion looked down at Zayne’s nervous eyes, lifting a hand to cup his cheek, stroking over it with his thumb. Zayne leaned into the touch, bringing his own hand up to hold Carrion’s there. Just one more moment, one more second of warmth before they took the leap into the unknown.

“I’m scared.” Zayne said softly, unable to keep the thought silent on his tongue.

“Me too.” Carrion said. “I’ll be your courage if you’ll be mine.”

The corners of Zayne’s mouth upturned. He nodded, biting back the raw fear in his gut.

“Are you ready?” he asked Carrion. Carrion chuckled dryly and stepped back to retrieve the flower pot behind him, tucking it under his arm.

“No. But it’s time.” he said with a faint smile, reaching out for Zayne’s hand. Zayne took it, and they walked to Carrion’s bedroom together.

With every step they took, Zayne found himself begging silently. Who he was asking, he did not know, but he begged for Carrion’s safety, pleaded for his freedom, beseeched the claws of fate to give them just one chance. One chance to be happy. It was all he wanted; one opportunity to see if they could grow together.

They walked into the room, and Zayne could see that the tripod was already set up to face the bed, and the Doctor had a kit of several tools, needles and medication among other objects foreign to Zayne at the ready in case of an emergency.

“What are the odds?” Zayne asked the Doctor. The Doctor seemed hesitant to answer his question.

“Odds are in your favor to walk away with a traumatic brain injury, which your Evol can heal. You’ll be prone to seizures, loss of coordination, confusion, inability to speak, memory problems, and even aggression.” he said clinically. Carrion pressed further.

“What else?”

“There is…significant risk of instant death without the aethercore. Impossible to calculate given the strength of your Evol, but it is a very real possibility.” The doctor said sullenly. Zayne swallowed, fingers gripped Carrion’s hand even tighter. He felt sick. He took a breath to steady himself, and gathered his thoughts. He’d made a promise.

“You’ve beaten the odds before.” Zayne said suddenly, turning to Carrion. “You’re strong. I know you can handle this.”

“Even without your aethercore, your Evol is incredibly strong.” said Sylus from behind the cannon. “All you need to do is survive. And we both know a good bit about that, don’t we?”

Carrion nodded, and stepped forward to place the flower pot down. He sat down on the side of the bed, facing down the barrel of the weapon with determined fire in his gaze. His eye flicked to Zayne and offered a smirk.

“You can’t get rid of me so easily, Reaper.” he said with a veneer of fake bravado that cleaved at Zayne’s heart. That was his way it seemed, covering the cracks in his confidence with a stream of endless swagger.

“I’ll hold you to that.” said Zayne, summoning the will to return his smile. Carrion took a deep breath.

“I’m ready.” he said, straightening his back. “Fire when ready.”

Sylus stepped forward to curl his hand around the trigger when Zayne stilled his hand.

“I’ll do it.” he said, looking at Carrion. “If I’m the reason you have that chip in the first place, let me be the one to destroy it.”

Carrion nodded, and Zayne took his place behind the weapon.

“It isn’t your fault.” Carrion said stoically. “I need you to know that it isn’t.”

“Tell me all about when you wake up.” Zayne said, returning his tense tone. Carrion chuckled.

“Nothing short of phenomenal.” he said to Zayne. “Do it now. Before either of us has the chance to lose our nerve.”

“I’m not going anywhere.” Zayne promised.

Carrion stared straight ahead, keeping himself rooted to the bed and not giving into the urge to squeeze his eye shut as Zayne pulled the trigger. Zayne felt the cold metal sink into the body of the weapon with a heavy click and the machine responded instantly. A low, rounded sound filled the air as a sweeping pulse of electromagnetic energy swept over Carrion in a heavy sweep.

Carrion felt it; a spike of pain lancing through the front of his head impossibly deeper and more horrifying than he’d ever felt before. His stomach rolled and his vision blurred as the chip in his head burned up like the experiment on the wall. Zayne’s frightened expression was the last thing he saw before his eyes rolled back into his head and he folded forward, body convulsing in a seizure.

“Sylus!” The Doctor shouted, rising to fill a syringe with a clear liquid from a vial. Sylus caught Carrion before he fell off of the bed and pushed him onto the mattress where he continued to shake and seize, limbs curling tightly and foam starting to gather at his lips. Zayne watched in pure horror as the Doctor pushed past him to attend to Carrion.

“Get this out of here.” the Doctor yelled to Zayne, motioning at the tripod in front of Zayne. “Sylus, hold his arm.”

Zayne was stuck motionless watching the Doctor inject something into the crook of his arm held taut by Sylus. Once again the Doctor made eye contact with Zayne.

“I know you don’t want to leave him, but I need room to work, please trust me.” the Doctor pleaded with Zayne. Zayne felt sick to his stomach, and moved robotically to gather the heavy hand cannon and its tripod to leave the room, casting one last glance at Carrion, who seemed to be choking while the Doctor tried to clear his airway. “You don’t want to be in this room right now. Go, Zayne.”

Zayne did as he was told, his heart shattering with worry, and the machine causing indents in his skin from his tight grip. Carrion had to be okay. He had to be.

Chapter Text

Things that were missing came back to him. The memory of running through a facility, scrambling to find a way out. Sneaking into the back of a Fleet cargo haul jet making its way back to Linkon, and being discovered by an officer as they made their descent. He remembered wrestling for control with the officer escorting the cargo before killing the pilot and escaping with his Evol. He remembered feeling weak for the first time in his life. He remembered feeling empty, cold, and alone. Scattered memories of his imprisonment, the raw unleashed feelings he hadn’t been able to keep hold of for so long flooded him in a way that felt as though they’d pull him under like a current.

Carrion found himself in a field, endless and populated with white jasmines and red datura. A vague feeling of familiarity washed over him, as if he’d been here before. It felt so real, this dream. Carrion swore he could feel a breeze and smell the fragrance that reminded him so ardently of Zayne. He looked down to a bare patch of earth in the sea of flowers at his feet, and took in the sight of one solitary jasmine in the middle, accompanied by one single datura flower. Their stems were intertwined, snaking together in a delicate embrace.

He crouched, running his fingers over the earth. Where some might have seen it as barren and blank, Carrion saw promise. It was fertile, alive. Things could grow here, of that he was certain. It felt important that he knew that, but he couldn’t decipher why.

Carrion stood, looking out over the white and red flowers and his heart stalled in his chest. What had been a peaceful sight before was now stained with blood. Splatters of it stained the white petals of endless jasmine, and the soft sun in the sky turned red and angry. The smell of smoke, fire, and carnage swept through him. It hadn’t happened yet. But Carrion felt absolutely sure that it soon would.

Slowly, his vision scattered, and he was lulled back into the black.

___

A voice that sounded hazy and far away pierced the darkness.

“He just needs time. He survived, that was the hardest part.” said a voice that sounded exactly like his own. He grimaced, confused at the familiar tenor that didn’t come from his own throat. He put a hand to his aching head, finding that someone had taken his eyepatch off. He fell back into sleep, a dull headache waxing and waning for him as he tried to find rest.

When he opened his eyes again, it was to the feeling of something hard being pressed against his chest. Carrion saw a face, a man standing directly above him. Piercing green eyes, a narrow mouth, and a pretty heart-shaped face. Relief rushed him. Zayne. Without hesitation, he craned his neck, hand reaching to brush against his cheek and sat up to press their lips together.

A loud smack echoed in Carrion’s ears and a stinging wave that felt like fire cracked across his cheek. Carrion was startled, gaze going wide in confusion as his eyes refocused on the Zayne in front of him, taking the ends of a stethoscope out of his ears to hang around his neck. He brought a hand to his burning cheek and his recognition finally clicked back into place.

“Wrong Zayne.” the Doctor said stoically as if he hadn’t just slapped his “patient” across the face. “Dawnbreaker should return in a few hours.”

Carrion heard a fit of laughter erupt from the doorway of his room, loud and musical as Sylus struggled to keep it at bay.

“I’m sorry, I thought you were him.” Carrion said, voice sluggish and deep from sleep and disorientation.

“I take no offense.” said the Doctor, looking down at Carrion’s hard, embarrassed blush. “Some confusion is normal in your state. You should feel better soon.”

“Did you really need to hit me, Doctor?”

“Stimuli-based reinforcement is an efficient tool in recovery.” the Doctor said matter-of-factly. Another fit of laughter came from the doorway where Sylus was beside himself. Carrion narrowed his eyes. As did the Doctor, who turned towards his husband to glare. “You’re not helping. Go away.”

Sylus put his hands up as a sign of peace, and Carrion could hear his deep chuckle down the hall as he walked away. The Doctor rolled his eyes and turned back to face Carrion, drawing a pen from the front pocket of his vest to show Carrion.

“Try to use your Evol to take this from my hand.” he instructed. Carrion did as he was asked, and engaged the red-black mist to pull the pen to his hand. His mind felt tired and sluggish, and his head swam as he felt the hard plastic between his fingers. The Doctor nodded. “Good.”

What came next was a series of tests testing his coordination, the ability to follow a light or the Doctor’s finger with his eye, his ability to speak and sit up. Carrion groaned as he pulled himself into a full sitting position. His body felt sore as if he’d been clenching every muscle for hours. His mouth was dry, and a deep dull headache persisted at his forehead.

“You should make a full recovery in a few days, maybe less. In the meantime, rest is essential to recovery, as is hydration. I’ll return in a few hours to monitor your progress.” said the Doctor with a professional tone, rising from the bed to leave the room. He paused, turning to look back at Carrion, who was reaching for his eyepatch. “Dawnbreaker has been very worried about you. I think you’ll find that you have a more…receptive audience when he returns.”

The door shut behind the Doctor as he walked out, leaving Carrion alone with his thoughts. Anxiety gnawed at him, and he looked at his hands sullenly as he thought of everything that had happened to get him here. He didn’t have a family anymore; they had abandoned him. Grief swirled around his heart raw and fresh for the first time since it happened. This feeling was something the chip should’ve kept. The feeling that the most important people in his life had decided that money was more important than his life. After a lifetime of training with them, laughing with them, living with them in the underground and giving everything he had he’d been discarded.

And then his eye had been taken. It changed his life. They had robbed him of an important piece of himself, and it was never coming back. He’d never be that powerful again. He used to feel like he was on top of the world, able to do anything he wanted, go anywhere he pleased, and now he was broken beyond repair. The only thing he’d gotten in return for his aethercore and half of his vision was the chip and all of the calamity it had brought with it.

He didn’t recognize himself anymore. After so much time spent neutral and emotionless, this surge of feeling was cleaving at him. He’d done terrible things. He had hurt Zayne. The cage of his mind was open at last, but Carrion couldn’t shake the feeling that he deserved to be there. How could he be loved in spite of the way he’d acted? Sick, obsessed, possessive…it scared him to think that the capability to hurt the person he wanted most could still be living deep beneath the surface of his soul.

Carrion stayed like that, lost in his spiral. He wasn’t sure how much time had passed, but looked up in a daze when he heard a knock at his door. He stayed silent, face neutral as Sylus walked into the room, carrying a gallon of water. He held it out to Carrion, who took it with a nod of thanks, and worked the cap off to take a long drink.

“How are you feeling?” Sylus asked him, leaning back against the wall across from the bed. Carrion shrugged, turning to tip the opening of the jug towards the soil in the flowerpot next to him to water the jasmine that stood watch at his bedside.

“Less disoriented.” Carion said, not meeting the red gaze of his counterpart.

“You’re thinking about him, aren’t you?” said Sylus. There was no mirth, no teasing, simply a statement of fact.

“Of course I am.” said Carrion listlessly. “I don’t know how I can face him now, after everything.”

“The feelings are overwhelming, I’m sure.”

“They are. I’m trying to sort through them all, but it’s suffocating.” Carion fiddled with the handle on the plastic container, and flipped the flat cap through his fingers.

“What’s the most daunting one?” Sylus asked him.

“Guilt. I behaved like a monster. I almost killed him.” Carrion hissed, the nail of his thumb pressing into the soft plastic of the container’s cap angrily.

Sylus looked outside of the door and down the hallway, spying his husband at the desk near the wall of the open space. The Doctor was flipping through a black leather-bound album of photos, clearly missing their daughter in these quiet moments. He turned back to Carrion, twisting the ring on his left hand idly.

“There was a plane crash.” Sylus started, a seriousness overtaking his tone. “It was my plane, supposedly staffed with my people. The smallest oversight caused an intruder to board, which directly led to the crash. Zayne almost died, and I felt completely responsible.”

Carrion furrowed his brow, listening intently to Sylus speak in detail about how they’d been separated, how he could have died on the operating table, how it tore their lives apart.

“The crash stole a piece of him that he’s never been able to replace.” Sylus continued. “He had to give up something that he believed was his purpose in life and learn to find a way to live with its absence. He was broken, and so was I. There was a moment when I didn’t think that we would last. Not knowing if we were going to make it through that ordeal together was one of the worst times of my life.”

“How did you? What allowed you to move past it together?” Carrion asked, feeling a sliver of hope pulling against the pain in his chest. Sylus smiled fondly.

“He chose me. After everything, he still chose me. We had to accept that our lives would never be the same. After we’d mourned the death of what was, we walked together into what came next.” Sylus eyed him, expression serious and intense. “As for me, there hasn’t been single day I don’t dedicate to making his life the best it can possibly be. There is nothing he wants that I would not fight to give to him. That is how I’ve reconciled my guilt; by being everything he needs and desires.”

“How did you keep from losing yourself in the process?” Carrion said, knitting his bottom lip between his teeth.

Sylus hesitated, as if remembering his own fall from grace and the courage it had taken to put himself back together again. Carrion knew that there must have been ups and downs between Sylus and his Zayne, but it had been hard to conceive when he knew the level of safety, freedom and luxury that were waiting for them back in their world. It was easy to imagine that their lives were perfect, even though Carrion knew it couldn’t be that simple.

“You’re not who you were anymore, and you never will be again. You have control of who you become next.” said Sylus. “Zayne has always been able to see past the fronts we put up and the games that we play. Don’t waste your time trying to drive him away. It won’t work. Just let him see you. Believe me, I could have saved myself years of uncertainty.”

Carrion watched his other self fiddle with his wedding ring, a fond smile returning to him. He felt seen. It was a comfort, knowing that he wasn’t alone in his tragedy and mistakes. Maybe there was a way to start again after all. He thought of Zayne, and held onto the emotions he was now allowed to feel for him, letting them cradle him like waves in the ocean.

“Would you die for him?” Carrion asked offhandedly. Sylus chuckled.

“Of course.” he said with a glimmer in his eye and a smirk on his face. “But he would never allow it.”

A warmth began to bloom in Carrion’s chest.

__

Zayne walked briskly in the dark towards the warehouse, a bag of supplies in his hand. His cotton shirt was torn, snagged on the crystals of an Alterum. The hood of a black canvas jacket was drawn over his head to shade his face from prying eyes, and the pants he’d borrowed from Sylus to hunt in were surprisingly lightweight and flexible. A cut laced the apple of his left cheek, and his nose had thankfully stopped bleeding a mile ago.

He was anxious, pre-occupied with thoughts of Carrion. The wounds he wore now were nothing compared to other occasions, but he knew that he’d been sloppy, caught off guard from his distractions. So he’d elected to stock up on water and chocolate and call it a day. He couldn’t get the image of Carrion out of his head; the way he’d seized, how helpless he’d looked as the Doctor rushed to stabilize him.

He’d tried everything he could think of to distract himself and let Sylus rest, but nothing seemed to work. Sylus had been asleep now for two days, and with every hour that passed, the more Zayne worried. A cold bite of ice kissed Zayne’s cheek, and he looked up to see that it had begun to snow. Gentle, soft snowflakes peppered the air around him, graceful in their descent to earth. Though the remnants of Linkon no longer experienced traditional seasons, there was still a divide in the year for the bitterly cold months and the months that were less cold. Zayne marveled as how much time had passed since he’d met Carrion and how much things had changed around him.

Zayne entered the door code for the warehouse and headed inside to set down his bag on the desk to unload later. He shucked off his jacket running a hand through his hair and spotted Sylus standing outside of the open door to Carrion’s bedroom down the hall. Zayne approached, heart full of hope that it wasn’t simply a routine vitals check that had the door open wide. He picked up pace, trotting down the hall and past Sylus to stare into the room, making instant eye contact with Carrion.

Zayne didn’t even notice that Godeater was in the room, awake, when he darted inside. He narrowly missed the Doctor, who stood out of his way with a jump, filing out of the room to give them space. Zayne leaned down by the side of the bed to frame Carrion’s face with his hands and drag him into a deep, longing kiss. Nothing mattered in that moment except for the warmth of his lips and the fact that he was here, alive, and with him.

Carrion ran his fingers through Zayne’s hair, and it was like the furious storm inside of him was breaking for the sun. Zayne was his peace, the light that guided him back to shore. When he kissed Zayne now, the same feeling of adoration filled his heart to the point of bursting. He could feel him on a different level now, touch him without fear or punishment.

For so long they’d wanted each other, but never in quite the right ways. For far too long Zayne had ignored how he yearned for Carrion, and Carrion hadn’t been allowed to yearn for Zayne at all. Everything was changing right in front of their eyes, and finally it was changing into something beautiful.

“I’m sorry.” Carrion murmured, pulling away to press their foreheads together. Something clutched at his heart and threatened to spring tears to his eyes. “I’m sorry for everything.”

“Stop.” Zayne shook his head with a frown. “Don’t do that. I don’t care.”

Carrion brought a hand to Zayne’s cheek, and Zayne caught him at the wrist to nuzzle into his broad palm.

“Can we start over?” Carrion said softly. Zayne’s eyes opened to look deeply into Sylus’ scarlet gaze.

“No.” he breathed. “But we can move forward.”

The other three people nearby froze. Sylus’ eyes went wide and his lips parted as a strong feeling of deja vu overcame him. The Doctor felt a chill rush down his spine, and made stunned eye contact with the Godeater, who was wearing the exact same expression of shock.

“I’ll be back to check on you.” the Doctor said, leaving the room to give them privacy and Sylus following suite. The Godeater stood, giving the two on the bed a small smile.

“Incredible.” he murmured, leaving the room and shutting the door behind him.

Zayne quirked a confused brow at them as they left, but was instantly distracted by the hand on his cheek, pulling him back into another kiss.

“I feel like I can see you properly now.” Carrion whispered, brushing Zayne’s bangs out of his eyes. “I’ve been aching for this moment, Zayne.”

Zayne’s eyes flicked open, lips parting, and heart swelling at the sound of his name. It sounded like a prayer, something deep and sacred. It was as if Carrion could see into his very soul. Zayne kissed him again, a smile finding its way to his mouth..

“My name…” he breathed. “Say it again.”

“Zayne.” said Carrion with a smile, wrapping his arms around Zayne’s waist as his lips were kissed again.

“Again.”

Carrion guided Zayne down to the bed to lay with him, holding him close with affectionate whispers and stroking through his hair. Zayne curled into Sylus’ broad chest. Everything felt right in this moment, the way it was always supposed to be.

Chapter Text

Caleb walked off of the ship briskly, just as the sun over Skyhaven was setting into the horizon. He was walking a little too fast, but it was all he could do to escape the bizarre feeling in the jet. He gripped the metal briefcase tighter in his hand. All he had to do was deliver the protocore to the Colonel and he’d be free to go back to Linkon or literally anywhere else without the crew he’d been stuck with for well over a week.

Something was just…off about them. Their eyes seemed blank and dead when they looked at Caleb, as if they were listening and storing information, but not reacting to it. There was no laughter on the ship, no sarcasm, not even fighting. It was just silent unless it had something to do with the mission at hand. He also felt them watching, observing him at every turn as if waiting for him to step out of line. But what disturbed Caleb the most happened at the peak of the mission.

They had been sent to an ice planet only accessible through the Deepspace Tunnel, and had tracked the energy signatures of the so-called Creatio Protocore inside of a deep cave on unsteady ground. Extracting it from its place beneath the ice and rock was treacherous, and at one point it didn’t look quite possible at all. They had a meeting, all five officers coordinating around a holographic rendering of the cave when one of his crewmates spoke up.

“I can walk across and toss the protocore back to the group before the floor crumbles.” said an officer who couldn’t have been older than his early twenties. Caleb reeled.

“No. You would die, officer.” Caleb said carefully, hoping that he’d heard wrong or the officer simply didn’t understand the gravity of the situation.

“I am aware sir. Retrieving the Creation Protocore is the mission.” he said nonchalantly. The other officers gathered around the map of the cave had all nodded along as if it made perfect sense. Caleb looked back at the officer incredulously. So young, and giving up his life so readily?

They were chipped, all of them. Caleb knew the signs simply from proximity to it, but there was something unique about these officers. He’d met several people who had been chipped before, but none of them would simply line up to die as though it were the most simple solution. In the end, Caleb had been able to get closer with the use of his Evol and grab the protocore. Now, he just wanted out of that ship and away from that crew that made his skin crawl.

He heard footsteps behind him as the other officers jogged over to him, following him on his way to the Colonel’s office. He narrowed his eyes, side-eying the same young officer who had volunteered to give his life.

“You’re all dismissed, I can deliver the payload myself.” Caleb said, voice raised and firm with authority.

“The mission parameters dictate escorting you to deliver the protocore, sir.” said the young officer dutifully, struggling to match his pace.

Caleb clenched his jaw uncomfortably, but continued his stride.They followed him, blank eyes staring straight ahead, expressions empty. He could feel their dead stares flicker to him every so often, watching him as if supervising him was part of the mission too. After an agonizingly awkward elevator ride, Caleb knocked at the door of the Colonel’s office. The metal door slid open for him and the officers to enter the wide, minimal-looking space. There were no personal touches in this room, no art, no photos, simply a desk with a computer terminal and ample space to work, along with several sealed file cabinets.

The real draw of this space was the entire wall of windows behind the desk that overlooked a fantastic view of Skyhaven, and this was where they found the Colonel.

“Ah, Captain Xia.” the old man said with a tired voice, turning to face the group behind him. “Did you find what was asked for?”

“Yes sir.” Caleb said dutifully, handing the briefcase over promptly.

The Colonel offered him a yellow smile, clearly pleased with his work. He made no small talk, asked for no mission report, simply took the briefcase to his desk to open as if verifying the validity of Caleb’s words. His milky, aged eyes widened with awe as his horrid smile grew.

“Your mission is complete, dismissed.” said the Colonel. At the same time and with the same cadence, the officers accompanying Caleb walked away, leaving only a Colonel and a Captain in the room. The Colonel scowled at Caleb when he realized that he wasn’t going anywhere. “What is it, Captain?”

“The team you sent me to oversee…they’re chipped, aren’t they?” Caleb asked directly. The Colonel eyes him with an air of irritation.

“I believe I told you that it was not your duty to ask questions.” said the Colonel, shutting the briefcase.

“You did, sir. However, it seems as though the priority among the team appears to be initially different than my own. It’s important for me to know what to expect from a squad under my leadership.” Caleb insisted. The colonel stared back into his eyes.

“And where was their priority?” asked the Colonel.

“They stayed true to the mission, but the officers were at complete ease with sacrificing each other or themselves to complete the mission. I’d recommend a psychological evaluation on that taskforce to monitor for an adverse reaction to their Toring Chips.” Caleb said stoically. The Colonel grit his teeth in anger and strode over to Caleb with a deep frown.

“You deign to tell me what to do with my own tools, Captain?” the Colonel sneered at him. Caleb’s expression dropped, confused. Tools?

“No sir, not at all.” he said quickly. “I assumed recommendations like these were part of my duty. If their Toring Chips are malfunctioning I wanted to report it immediately.”

The Colonel scoffed. He marched over to his desk, wrenching the drawer open to pull out a bracelet, smooth and black with the A.S.T.R.A. emblem printed on it in royal blue. Caleb had been doing so well, and this is what happened? He came back with unnecessary questions?

“If they were completely centered on the mission, then I’d say that their hardware is working exactly as intended.” The Colonel’s voice was harsh and ragged, clearly upset. “And since you’d like to make more suppositions when it isn’t your station, I’ll show you the truth. Come, Captain.”

The Colonel walked out of the door, motioning for Caleb to follow him in the second horrendously awkward walk of the day. This time, it was accompanied by a lead weight in Caleb’s belly. The Colonel could do anything based on what he’d seen; would he hurt him? Chip him? Turn him into a good little soldier who asked no questions and lined up to die cheerfully with everyone else?

“Permission to speak, sir?” Caleb asked as he stepped into the elevator. He should make his apologies now, own up to stepping out of line and going against what he’d been told, even if he was sure he hadn’t done anything too off the books.

“Denied.” The Colonel said, seething. Warning bells were going off in Caleb’s mind, remembering Zayne’s warning. Stay out of his sight…he’d sooner kill you than elevate you… Caleb swallowed, half-wondering if he should fear for his life.

The elevator stopped at the basement level, and Caleb was jarred out of his thoughts when a mechanical voice asked for biometric credentials. The Colonel typed in a code of numbers using the numbered buttons on the elevator panel and leaned forward when a red light appeared to scan his retinas.

“Welcome back, Colonel.” said the automated voice. Caleb heard a noise at his back and turned to watch in fascination as the back of the elevator shaft slid out of place, offering them entry into a place that Caleb had never seen before.

Caleb knew better than to speak right now, and so he only observed. This place seemed impossibly big; dismal stone floors and concrete walls with winding hallways lined in various rooms that Caleb couldn’t quite see into. The maze of halls seemed endless and identical to each other, but the Colonel seemed to know exactly where he was going. Abruptly after what felt like several minutes of walking, they came to a large closed door with a control panel to the side and a large monitor showing various energy fluctuations for whatever was inside of the large room.

“Your weapons, Captain Xia.” the Colonel said, with his hands extended.

Caleb felt a chill run down his spine. The warning bells he’d felt before were magnifying into full alarm bells now, but he did as he was told. He wanted to walk away, to run and not look back, but this was the Colonel of the Farspace Fleet. He’d be dead before he left the building if he ran from direct orders. As he placed his twin pistols into the hands of the Colonel, he saw the Colonel draw out the same black bracelet from earlier and clamp it around his wrist.

Immediately, Caleb felt different. There was something dulled, drained in the back of his mind. Something important, but he couldn’t place what. He didn’t have time to think about it when the massive door opened to a room of pitch-black.

“Walk through the door Captain, and do not move.” The Colonel ordered him. Caleb tried to keep his facial expression under control and free from the dread he felt clutching at his chest. He forced himself to move, forced himself to follow orders in the hope that the Colonel would let him back into his good graces. He turned his back to the Colonel, and walked into darkness.

Caleb wandered into the dark room, and his last source of light was draining under a guttural mechanical whir as the doors closed behind him. The Colonel had told him not to move, but anxiety shredded at his stomach with his lack of awareness at his surroundings. He felt something against his jacket. Something sharp catching on the material. His blood turned to ice.

He listened closer, and heard a familiar crystalline clink of crystals grinding against crystals. His breath hitched and his eyes widened. If he was right about the noises, he was going to die here. He stood still, impossibly so, while his heart rabbited in his chest so fast he was afraid the creatures in the room would hear it too. He realized what this was. This was no training exercise or straightforward answers to his questions.

This was punishment.

The Colonel was punishing him for asking too many questions, a perceived slight. Caleb tried to keep the sound of his breaths quiet, knowing exactly what he was in this field of darkness with. A moment later, his suspicions were proved to be true. The lights came on, and Caleb tightened his throat so he wouldn’t cry out in abject terror.

Alterum. So many of them. At first glance at the huge room that looked as though it had been modified from a simulation room, there were at least fifty, all trudging along aimlessly with their half-human gore-ridden bodies of crystal growths and hooked hands. This wasn’t a simulation, this was real. The sounds, the smells, and the sudden attention on Caleb as the light make Caleb’s presence known.

Don’t move, don’t move… Caleb repeated in his head, the orders from before. The Colonel was either testing him or he’d been sent here to die for some sort of perceived fault. With his hands pressed to his sides, Caleb tried to summon a gravity barrier with his Evol, but it only sent a faint ripple to the area around him. Caleb hissed at the bracelet on his wrist. It must have been suppressing his Evol.

The Alterum started to walk forward, to crowd him curiously. Some had eyes, staring at him blankly to get a better look over the others that pressed in on him. Others had no eyes at all, and yet managed to slink closer to his trembling form. He heard the trilling that came from their broken throats like glass rubbing against glass and he squeezed his eyes shut as he felt a sharp point from the column of a crystal cutting into his jawline, scratching hard enough to cause a cut in his skin.

He was terrified, but perplexed. He’d been around enough Alterum in his lifetime to know their behaviour; erratic, brutal, aggressive, and yet these Alterum only regarded him with passive curiosity. He knew that a sudden move could cause a reaction, and an act of aggression might rile him up, but they just examined him and moved on as they were. He should have been relieved, but his stomach was sick with knots. There was no chance of feeling safety in a situation like this, not with the Colonel at the helm.

Finally, the throng of Alterum dissipated away from him, giving him room to breathe as they skulked away in disinterest. Caleb’s mouth felt dry and nervous sweat beaded his forehead. He jumped when the doors opened again, and the Colonel walked in, a smug expression on his face as he joined Caleb on the fringe of the room.

“The price for answers is high, Captain. Do you understand now?” asked the Colonel. Caleb knew what he was asking. He wasn’t asking if Caleb understood what was happening around him, he was asking if Caleb understood his place.

“Yes sir.” Caleb answered, throat bobbing.

“A.S.T.R.A. has developed a new variation on the Toring Chip; one that will instill a mission so intently into someone’s psyche that they become willing to do anything to attain the goal, even at the cost of their safety. Their lives. And in unfortunate, muddled minds such as these…” the Colonel motioned the room full of Alterum. “It has proven highly effective. If you are not in their mission criteria, they will ignore you.”

“You’ve found a way to tame the Alterum.” Caleb said, more from horror than admiration, but the Colonel didn’t seem to care. “All these people who gave their lives to your research…”

“Well, they’re hardly people at all, wouldn’t you agree?” asked the Colonel. All Caleb could do was try to mask his true expression with a nod of his head while nausea rolled at his belly. “They’re simply pawns now, and every pawn has a part to play on the board.”

The Colonel approached Caleb, who was still standing straight, willing his face into a neutral mask despite every single nerve in his body screaming at him to run, leave, fight. He felt those milky allseeing eyes drag him up and down as if appraising him for any weaknesses. Caleb readied himself. He was being examined closely. He had to play the game in order to make it out. Zayne needed to know this, and quickly.

All Caleb had to do was survive so he could pass on the information. The Colonel now had two armies; the whole of the Farspace Fleet, and an army of Alterum. It was highly unlikely that this was all there was. The trust Caleb had in Zayne was strong but trembled under the threats he now knew existed. It was time to ask for answers, provided he survived long enough to seek them.

“If I ordered you to receive a chip, would you do it willingly Captain?” Asked the Colonel slyly. Another test. Caleb’s answers were hollow, but instant.

“Yes sir.”

“If I asked you to die for me, would you do it?” rattled his feeble voice.

“Yes sir.”

The Colonel grinned. Seemingly pleased that the lesson had taken hold.

“Good.” he said, voice oily and greed-ridden alongside a broken smile. Caleb suppressed a shudder, keeping his violet eyes trained straight ahead obediently. “I knew you were special, Captain. Your purpose is far more valuable than a simple pawn on the board. You are a different piece entirely.”

Chapter Text

Carrion grunted as he parried a punch angled in his blind side and surged forward to deliver a kick to his counterpart’s right side, targeting his ribs. Sylus caught his leg, moving out of the way and raising his open palm quickly in front of his face to block a follow-up punch from Carrion. Sylus used his hold on Carrion’s center to knock him off balance, and used a leg sweep at his foot to bring him down. Carrion hooked an arm around Sylus’ waist to pull him down with him and the two became a blur of wrestling moves that made it difficult to see who was going what.

Zayne felt his focus on the conversation at hand drifting as he watched them spar. Just when he thought Carrion would come out on top, Sylus blocked a punch. Just when Sylus jabbed directly for Carrion’s head, Carrion would punish his outside leg with a heavy kick. And on and on they went. Just as the Doctor had predicted, Carrion was walking the day after the pulse to his head, and by day three after the chip had been shorted out, he was back to his peak performance. Sylus had offered to help him test his reflex time and spar with him, but to Zayne it looked like they were having fun for the hell of it.

It was nice to see Carrion smiling again, smug and confident like he had once before. Zayne hadn’t realized what a difference constant fear and stress had made to his facial features. Before he was a dusky type of beauty, brutal and sharp, but now he was simply radiant.

“Dawnbreaker?” a voice turned his head back to the Godeater, who had just asked him a question.

“Sorry, can you repeat that?” said Zayne, clearing his throat while a light pink blush graced his cheeks. The corner of Godeater’s mouth quirked up in slight amusement.

“I said that from what you observed in your dream, she’s gotten more in tune with her aethercore. It’s surpassing the power that her Evol can provide, and might even be using it to enhance itself in order to defend her.” he said.

“So she’s using her Evol on her aethercore?” Zayne asked.

“Correct. The real question is, with the expulsion of so much power, why can’t we find her?” said the Doctor. “Even with both of us the most we come up with is fragments and dreams. We know she’s in Skyhaven but additional information about her imprisonment would be exceedingly helpful.”

“I suspect it’s for the same reason I’m unable to see Astra. Some sort of barrier I’m unable to see through. When he’s close to me, he’s able to push past the barriers of my mind, so perhaps it works the other way; we just need to be closer.” said Godeater.

“We should talk to Caleb before we go rushing in.” said Zayne, leaning against the workbench in front of him. “He might have gotten somewhere with the Colonel.”

“Are you sure that’s wise?” Godeater asked him. “Are we sure he can be trusted?”

“We’ll see what he says when he returns from his mission, but I believe so, yes.”

“I don’t know that it’s wise to bring him in completely.” Godeater said, folding his arms across his chest.

“I agree with Dawnbreaker.” said the Doctor, adjusting his glasses on the bridge of his nose. “When it comes to her, Caleb will stop at nothing. Their connection is much like ours with Sylus. He’ll do anything to save her, including aligning with us.”

“After what happened at Headquarters, Caleb wanted to make things right.” Zayne said. “I believe he meant it.”

“I’ll go with you when you meet him next.” said Godeater. “I believe you, but we can’t ignore the possibility of manipulation, magical or otherwise. Astra’s tricks are difficult to detect unless you know what you’re looking for.”

Zayne nodded in agreement, and out of the corner of his eye, he watched as Sylus and Carrion tapped knuckles, ready to settle into another round. Carrion had his hair pulled back into a bun to keep it from being grabbed easily, and had gone without a shirt over his tactical joggers, letting the sweat glisten off of his chest and the light catch the barbell piercings on his chest. Sylus was in athletic shorts and a black tank top that hugged every muscle of his body, and Zayne knew that the Doctor had been stealing glances just like he was. They were both barefoot, and the rules were simple; no weapons and no Evols. They began.

“It’s astounding, isn’t it?” Zayne heard the Doctor’s words clearly in his mind, though his lips didn’t move. “Noticing all of the things you never saw in him before you finally decided to let him in.”

Zayne suppressed a smile, but he couldn’t stop his eyes from softening as he watched the two near-identical men kick and punch at each other with equal force.

”Twenty credits on Carrion.” Zayne replied to their mind link. He swore he heard a dry chuckle.

”Fifty on the Conqueror.”

Godeater had stopped talking strategy as soon as he noticed both of his counterparts staring at the fight unfolding in front of them. His heart ached, missing his dragon terribly, but watching Carrion finally act and react in a way that was so “Sylus” felt like a victory. Especially with the fond smile that had bloomed on Dawnbreaker’s face. Maybe they were making more progress than they thought.

Sylus dodged and blocked a series of sharp jabs from Carrion, and Carrion pursed his lips. It was here that one could study their opponent, but both of them struggled to do so; the amount of similarities they had in the way they moved their bodies was taking too much time to parse through to find the differences, and they ended up fighting as though challenging their mirror reflection.

Carrion switched tactics, moving his body back to a non-threatening stance, inviting Sylus forward to crowd his space. Sylus sensed a trap and moved forward with his guard up to cover his face, anticipating more jabs. What he didn’t anticipate was Carrion moving even further back to widen his stance and put power into his back leg, shifting up into a heavy kick at Sylus’ unprotected torso with enough force to make Sylus grit his teeth.

Sylus twisted to recover, but Carrion was on him in a second, varying his moves to throw off Sylus footwork and rhythm. Forcing him to block, forcing his retreat. Sylus grunted as he twisted his body out of the way of another shot to his body, bringing his guard down to his torso, only to feel the weight of a well-placed jab to his head, forcing him to stumble. Carrion used the fraction of a second he created to tackle Sylus to the hard ground, locking their long legs together and rising above him for another punch to the face. Sylus tapped the ground, and Carrion backed off, offering him a hand to help him get to his feet.

“Not bad.” Sylus admitted with a smirk, rubbing his sore jaw as his Evol moved to heal it. Carrion gave him an identical smirk, reaching for a gallon of water to take a swig from and offered it to Syus.

“Fatherhood’s made you slow.” Carrion teased good-naturedly. Sylus laughed, shaking his head as he accepted the water.

“There is nothing slow about your movements when you live with a toddler and suddenly the house is quiet.” Sylus said, taking a swig.

Zayne heard a hiss of laughter from the Doctor next to him. Zayne tilted his head.

“Really?” he asked the Doctor with an amused lilt in his voice. The Doctor nodded with a chuckle.

“On one occasion, the house went silent and we found that Isolde had dragged a snake from the yard upstairs to her bedroom. I don’t know who was more dumbfounded; us for wondering how she’d brought it in without catching her, or the snake for wondering why it was being made to have a tea party.” the Doctor said with a fondness in his eyes.

“When we were children, there was an incident when Caleb woke up screaming at a tarantula that had been crawling on top of him. She yelled at Caleb for trying to hurt her new friend instead of apologizing for not making sure the cardboard box she had it in was secure. She was ten years old, he was twelve.” Zayne remembered with a chuckle of his own. “I thought I would break a rib from trying not to laugh.”

“Don’t tell me that.” the Doctor said with a shake of his head. “I’m hoping she outgrows the desire to bring everything that moves inside the house.”

“You don’t outgrow a curious nature.” Zayne shrugged.

“Or an impulsive one.” the Doctor agreed, looking directly at his husband with the same fond look.

In the makeshift ring they’d set for themselves, two Syluses tapped knuckles again.

“Best two out of three.” Sylus said with a respectful nod.

“Of course.” agreed Carrion with a good-natured grin.

The two shook out the muscles in their shoulders and circled each other like lions, scarlet eyes tracing movements as they went. Carrion returned to his footwork, bouncing between non-threatening and threatening to try to provoke an advance from Sylus. Sylus kept his stance tense at the core and limbs limber, waiting for an opening. Carrion fell back on a shallow kick meant to punish his footwork, but Sylus moved fluidly to avoid it and take advantage of Carrion’s unprotected head and lashed out with a right cross to his face and an uppercut to his abdomen. Carrion felt his balance thrown off as he raised a forearm, overcompensating to protect his blind right side.

Sylus fixed on the pattern and extended his left arm as if finishing a punch, baiting Carrion forward to implement another sharp jab to his face only to put full power into his right cross to punch down at Carrion’s temple, knocking him to the ground.

Carrion spat out blood from his jaw and nose being cracked and tapped the floor to signal the end.

“Sylus!” called the Doctor, motioning with his hands and shaking his head incredulously as if to ask What are you doing?! and gesturing at the man on the ground who had just healed from a traumatic brain injury.

“He’s fine!” Sylus shouted back, extending a hand to help Carrion up before whispering under his breath to him. “Please tell me you’re fine.”

Carrion coughed, rolling out his neck as he gave the thumbs up to the Doctor. They took another water break to allow Carrion the time to heal a broken nose and Zayne watched him lift a towel to his features to wick away the blood and sweat but still sport the same enthralled expression.

“I’ve been up against boxing before,” laughed Carrion “but I haven’t seen power like that in a blow before. Nicely done.”

“Had to rise to the occasion before you gave me a run for my money.” Sylus said with a nod. “One more.”

“One more takes it.” Carrion agreed, putting his fist out for the knuckle tap.

The last round began with circling once again, and this time Sylus was the first to strike, dealing a job to agitate Carrion and throw his guard off. Sylus prepared for his retaliation, but frowned when Carrion didn’t default to his defensive kicks like he had before. Instead, Carrion went on the offensive, softening the fight with jabs that looked identical to Sylus’. They were toying with each other, trying to get the other to act out.

Carrion sniffed and tensed his jaw, pulling into a compound kick that Sylus blocked initially, but his leg curled into a second and third blow like a question mark, attacking Sylus’ neck and shoulders. Sylus lurched forward to crowd him and deliver a strong punch to Carrion’s torso that had him seeing stars. Enough. thought Carrion, and raised his guard, using a light bouncing force to weave in and out of Sylus’ hits and kicks. He moved further away, slowly to make it appear natural. He had a horrible idea, and grinned wickedly. Sylus tilted his head, an eyebrow arched at Carrion moving away from him so drastically, but then his eyes widened.

When he had enough distance, Carrion raised his hands above his head to allow his strong arms to balance him and leapt as high as he could into the air, landing on the ball of his left foot and dragging his arms down to propel him into a heavy front aerial flip. The blows were brutal; his left foot catching the crown of Sylus’ head and the right thudding against his shoulder as Sylus stumbled forward, hitting the ground hard and giving Carrion plenty of time to descend on him with the promises of another jab to the face.

Sylus narrowed his eyes, but tapped the ground. Carrion had won. Red-black mist swirled around a spotting of red on Sylus’ crown that stained his hair and on the place where he’d been struck on his back, resolving as Carrion helped him up. Sylus looked at him with wild excitement.

“You’re going to have to teach me that one. I can only imagine how much stronger it is with a weapon or Evol.” he said with an impressed smile. Carrion chuckled.

“Believe it or not, I learned from a dancer. Acrobatics are infinitely stronger than one would believe.” said Carrion with a shrug. He remembered all the tries it took him as a kid in the underground to finally succeed at the feat of acrobatics, how many times he’d ended up face first in the dirt and smiled, amused that what had once been a test of agility had finally come in handy.

On the other side of the room, Zayne held out a hand to the Doctor, unable to stop a smirk from reaching his face as his green eyes turned hungry at the sight of Carrion combing his bangs out of his face. The Doctor huffed goodnaturedly and firmly placed a fold of bills in his outstretched hand.

From behind them, the Godeater chuckled, shaking his head as he rose to leave the room after a good fight. He smirked as he remembered a sparring match of his own that had led to quite a phenomenal outcome.

Zayne tucked the bills into the pocket of his pants and sauntered towards Carrion with purpose. Carrion turned to face him but had no time to anticipate a deep kiss from Zayne, or the flutter of fingers down his pumped biceps. When they pulled away, there was something in Zayne’s eyes that made a heat bloom at his core.

“Carrion– Champion gets the shower first.” Sylus called as his fingers were wound with those of his husband, leading him away.

“The water is better at my apartment.” Zayne said instantly to Sylus. “Come with me.”

“It’s really no trouble.” Said Sylus in a clear attempt to be polite and default to the owner of the space they stayed in.

“No.” Zayne interjected tersely, narrowing his eyes. “It’s fine. Thank you.”

The Doctor arched a brow at Sylus and hauled him down the hallway with purpose. Zayne saw it click for Sylus halfway down, his lips forming an Oh… as he trailed behind the Doctor up the rusted stairs and to their quarters. Zayne looked back at Sylus.

“It is exceedingly important that we go to my apartment to check on things.” he said pointedly to Carrion. Carrion offered him a teasing stare.

“Right. To check the water pressure.” he grinned, leaning into another kiss from Zayne.

“Exactly.” Zayne breathed.

__

Zayne’s impatience as Carrion, his Sylus, pulled on a shirt and boots had only fueled the warmth pooling at his stomach. They left, letting the doors to the warehouse close behind them before Sylus had teleported him to a rooftop closer to Zayne’s apartment, stealing kisses as Sylus methodically took the route across rooftops that no Fleet officer had caught on to yet.

They made it to the lobby of the building and Zayne walked with purpose towards the elevators to jam the call button impatiently. He groaned as Sylus followed his every move, wrapping him around the hips with his arms to kiss his neck from behind, riling him up, teasing him and letting him press back into his chest with abandon.

The elevator ride was about the same with Zayne pushing Sylus into the wall of the shaft and running his hand over his chest as he rolled his hips to grind against him. Sylus felt himself harden, and let his mouth fall open to allow Zayne entrance to claim him with soft licks and nips to his lower lip.

They stumbled out of the elevator together, Zayne dragging Sylus by the shirt both unwilling to break away from his lips and determined to make it to the canvas of a bed where he’d plot his masterpiece. Sylus crowded Zayne’s space, backing him into his own front door in a messy kiss, lifting the hem of his tshirt to run his fingers up his back while Zayne grasped at the door handle. Both of them froze when they realized that it was locked and Zayne didn’t have the key with him. For godsakes. Zayne thought with an irritated frown.

Zayne’s lip curled and he pushed Sylus away gently to get him to stand back. Zayne twisted his body to deliver a solid kick to the lock of the door, breaking the lock and damaging the slide of the door to force it open instantly. Once again Sylus was at his back, teeth scraping over the shell of his ear and eliciting a soft sigh from Zayne as he closed the door behind them, sealing it in place with a patch of black ice.

“I could have picked the lock, you know.” Sylus teased. Zayne reached behind him to grip at the crotch of Sylus’ pants, forcing a shiver to run down his spine.

“There are far better uses for your fingers.” Zayne said with a dark edge to his voice, pulling at Sylus to lead him to the bedroom.

They undressed each other urgently, pulling and forcing fabric off of each other as though they'd die without the feel of their skin sliding together. Zayne fisted a hand in his long, tied-back hair to expose Sylus’ throat and kissed at his pulse, tongue flicking out to taste the salt on his skin. Sylus ran his hands over Zayne’s hips, smoothing up his back and sighing at the feeling of being touched in such a way.

Zayne framed Sylus hips with his hands and pushed him back, forcing him to walk backwards until he stumbled on the bed. Zayne pulled off of Sylus’ skin, forcing himself away to pop open one of the drawers of his nightstand open and rifle through it until he drew out a small bottle. Sylus looked at him with amusement.

“What, no gun lube?” Sylus joked. Zayne rolled his eyes.

“No, because I’m not a heathen.” he said sarcastically, before standing between Sylus’ legs to kiss him again. He never wanted to stop touching Sylus, never wanted to stop kissing him, or biting his affection into his skin. Sylus was safe now, and so was he. Warmth burned through him and he gripped Sylus tighter as if determined to share it.

Sylus palmed at Zayne’s cock, making him arch his back and his knees feel weak. Sylus backed up on the bed and let Zayne crawl on top of him to frot against him. He rolled his hips sensually to bloom delicious friction between them as he slid his tongue against Sylus’ and thumbed at the piercings on his chest. He wanted Sylus to feel good, to finally live in a place where he was wanted and cared for. Sylus tried to flip their positions, to get on top of Zayne to lick and touch and taste and please him, but Zayne caught his shoulder, easing him back down to the mattress.

“Let me show you how badly I want you here.” Zayne murmured, reaching for Sylus face to press their foreheads together. “Let me touch you in a way you can feel now.”

Sylus felt himself go rigid, and a feeling gathered behind his eyes that made him feel like crying. All the raw edges in his chest felt like they were dissolving, being sanded down by the man before him, who delivered a soft kiss to his lips before he kissed at his neck, his chest, his abs. He bathed Sylus in a flurry of kisses, massaging his chest muscles and working up his biceps.

It was nothing like it was the first time they touched each other. Before it was harsh touches that acted as the cork to bottle their feelings away. A different pain in order to forget another pain. This was bliss. This was Zayne touching him in a way that made him forget the husk of a person he’d been for so long, breathing life into his skin with every gently-placed kiss and every firm touch to his most sensitive parts.

Sylus didn’t know how to relax, it was as if he simply couldn’t believe that all he had to do was lay here and accept Zayne’s sweet touches as he ran his hands over his cock and prodded slick fingers at his entrance. He felt like he wasn’t doing enough. He felt like he wasn’t enough, and his back was rigid and tense with worry. Zayne tilted his head, picking up on his nervous energy.

“Do you want me to stop?” he asked. Sylus shook his head.

“No. I just…can’t believe that this is real. That you’re real.” Sylus said, feeling terribly exposed. Zayne pressed a kiss into his hip bones with a long, firm stroke to his cock that made Sylus melt, slowly pushing inside of him with his fingers.

“Tell me something you can feel.” Zayne said, slowly flexing his fingers. Sylus shuddered.

“Your hands, warm.” Sylus murmured as his eye fell closed. Zayne moved his body to keep his fingers inside of Sylus, but shifted to the side of him to whisper in his ear.

“Tell me what you hear.”

“Your voice.” Sylus answered. “I’d know it anywhere.” Zayne leaned in to slot their lips together and swiped Sylus bottom lips with his tongue, massaging inside of Sylus’ softly before he gently pulled away.

“Tell me what you taste.”

“Sugar. Just a little, on your lips.” Sylus breathed, his muscles starting to relax.

“Now tell me what you want.”

Sylus pulled at Zayne’s face to guide him back into a firm kiss, and Zayne felt Sylus relaxing around his fingers, enough to reach a third inside and scissor all of them in a gentle ripple.

“Just you.” Sylus said, a soft look on his face, yearning, hoping, anxious. “Let me feel you shine.”

Zayne drew his fingers slowly out of Sylus and kissed his forehead. If Sylus asked him for the world he’d give it to him. He took his time, waiting for Sylus’ restless hands to quiet and his lips to stop trembling before he lined himself up at Sylus’ hole to slowly press inside. Sylus groaned, those piercings he liked so much catching on his rim before delving deeper, deeper inside. They shared a moan at the same time, rattling out of them like twin spirits. Zayne massaged Sylus’ cock as he leaned forward again, smoothly sliding inside of him.

“Tell me when I can move.” he told Sylus, reaching for his hand to squeeze with reassurance. “It’s okay. We have time.”

Sylus shook his head, the stretch around Zayne’s girth and the way he was seated right against a spot within him that pooled pleasure and divine pressure in his belly was intoxicating. His lips fell open.

“Give me everything.” Sylus breathed, and Zayne squeezed his hand, moving both of them to his hips to prop up as he started, slowly at first, but then building. Faster, faster. Sylus moaned as the buds of warm metal caressed at him from the inside, pistoned deeper by Zayne’s methodical movements. With surgical precision, he brushed his prostate, angling to go again and again for as long as Sylus could stand it.

Zayne watched Sylus melt into the sheets, arching his back, hands grappling at anything he could find to anchor himself. Every part of him responded to Zayne’s touches, his voice, his movements. Silently, Sylus vowed to never take this for granted, and to never shy away from his touch again. His entrance fluttered around Zayne’s heavy cock and Zayne gasped at the sensation. Zayne moaned, he knew he wouldn't last long and studied Sylus for something, anything he could do to push Sylus further into his own bliss when he remembered something.

Zayne angled himself differently on his knees, and wrapped an arm around Sylus’ right leg, drawing it over his shoulder like he’d done before. His angle was deeper, more profound than before, and Zayne leaned into his inner thigh, tracing his lips in rough kisses around the skin there until he felt Sylus clench against him with another groan. Zayne took a breath, his pumps slowing down, and he bit into the soft area, sinking his teeth in deep enough to bruise.

Sylus saw stars, white hot and molten to his core, blowing straight past his heroic stamina as he came with a loud cry, spilling against his stomach and tightening so fiercely that Zayne was not far behind him, shaking as he orgasmed right along with him.

Zayne let out a choked, broken moan that had Sylus twitching, and pulled out of him roughly before they collapsed together on the sheets, sticky, messy and alive. Zayne propped himself up on his elbows, panting and shaking to lay a kiss on his lips. He could still feel Sylus trying to hold on, trying to compensate for being taken care of.

“Don’t.” Zayne said, smoothing a hand over his chest to still him. “Just be here with me.”

He nuzzled into Sylus’ side, and Sylus slowly lost the strength to argue.

“I could have prayed your name out loud and never would I have expected you to appear like this.” Sylus murmured, turning to hold Zayne close. “You deserve to be touched, adored.”

“Touch me tomorrow.” Zayne said, raising a hand to Sylus’ tired face. “Hold me tonight.”

Sylus swallowed, and smiled as he finally accepted the care and tenderness he deserved. He pressed a kiss into Zayne’s temple and stroked through his hair as they drifted to sleep. Growing up in the aftermath of societal collapse taught desperation, taking what you could get and asking for no more. But tonight, they both learned patience, they had learned to anticipate tomorrow. And tomorrow, Sylus vowed to make sure Zayne would feel just as cherished as he did in this moment.

“Tomorrow then.” he promised, inhaling Zayne’s jasmine scent as they fell into sleep. He held Zayne like he was daring someone to take him. Every fiber of his being called out to Zayne, knowing that he’d respond. He let his tired muscles settle into pure relaxation, and for the first time in recent memory, there was no headache.

Chapter Text

Sylus woke feeling sticky, hot, and sore, but wrapped in a cocoon of impossible bliss. The rhythmic sound of a heartbeat was steady in his ear, and he opened his eye to realize that he and Zayne had traded places at some point in the night. Zayne was laid out against the pillows at the head of his bed, with Sylus laying on top of him, arms wrapped around his waist and his head resting on his chest just over Zayne’s tattoo. Close enough to hear his calm heartbeat.

One of Zayne’s arms was splayed out near his head with the other circling around Sylus. His hair fell around his face like a dark halo. His expression was peaceful and undisturbed, and Sylus felt a ripple in his chest looking at his heavenly features at rest. His jaw wasn’t clenched, his eyes were softly closed and framed by those long lashes, his narrow, soft lips were slightly parted. He could have been a renaissance painting.

Sylus’ face was sore, and he realized that he’d slept in his eyepatch. He longed to take it off, but a sudden surge of hesitation flooded his mind. He shelved the feeling and reasoned with himself that he didn’t want to wake Zayne by moving to remove it. He felt the fingers at his back tighten and start to run over the expanse of muscles while Zayne’s lips pulled into a soft smile, eyes still closed as he roused.

“I didn’t mean to wake you.” said Sylus, moving his head to press a kiss into the tattoo on Zayne’s chest. His eyes cracked open and the prismatic green that left Sylus breathless was caught by the light of morning, sparkling in citrine tones that stoked a fire in his chest.

“Waking to you is better than any dream I have these days.” Zayne slurred in half-sleep, voice low and scratchy from rest. He traced over Sylus’ face, down his cheek, across his jawline, running his thumb over the plush of his lips. A playful smirk worked at his mouth. “The view’s not bad, either.”

Sylus grinned, just as playful.

“If the view is so good…” he started, unwinding his arms from Zayne’s torso to prop himself up and lean over Zayne with only a breath between their lips. “...what should I do to make sure that you wake up to such a sight every single day?”

Zayne closed the distance between their faces, pulling in Sylus with hands on his cheeks to kiss him good morning properly. Deep, soft, as if the threats outside of this apartment didn’t exist.

“Mmh… Definitely more of that.” Zayne sighed as Sylus worked across his jawline with soft kisses pressed into his throat. “Be careful, I could get attached to this.”

“I’ll make sure you do.” Sylus purred as he sucked a love bite into Zayne’s collar bone. “I’ll make sure that I’m the only one who gets to see you like this.”

Zayne scoffed, the semblance of a laugh tumbling out of him lazily as he sat with the thought with an amused look. His hands moved to cup Sylus’ face while he was running his tongue over the slopes of his abs. He angled his wrists, forcing Sylus to look up at him.

“Do you really think that there’s anyone else I want to see first when I wake up?” Zayne asked, a velvet affection colored his voice that made Sylus’ mind tingle.

Sylus moved blankets out of the way to expose Zayne’s lower half to the chilly air. His teeth grazed at Zayne’s hip bones, fingers roving over the soft pale skin appreciatively. He gripped Zayne’s hardening cock firmly as it came to life beneath his fingers while he worshipped his unmarked skin with the promise of protection and softness from his soft kisses.

Zayne leaned back onto the pillows behind him with the rare signs of being completely unguarded. Sylus felt a flutter in his heart, remembering their first encounter months ago that had left him with broken bones and bloody wounds. The thought that Zayne was laying down his ferocity just for him made his own cock pulse with want. His touches were sweet and gentle, but the devilish smirk returned when he noticed that Zayne had a clear case of morning wood.

He went to work with gentle licks before taking Zayne into his mouth smoothly. Zayne shivered above him, arching his back against the sheets. Sylus glanced to the bedside table and used his Evol to pull the bottle of lube from the night before into his hand. Zayne eyed him with a glimmer of mirth in his eyes.

“Are you sure you’re comfortable, without the Ballistol I mean?” Zayne said, trying fervently to conceal a smile. Sylus felt a laugh catch in his throat and pulled off of Zayne’s cock to let it out. Zayne couldn’t suppress his smile and the laughter was infectious. For a moment, they just shared the humor, the absurdity of the situation.

Their smiles felt like they wouldn’t die and both of them realized that it was the first time they’d truly heard each other really laugh at something. This moment, so intimate and close to each other, the foreplay before something passionate was only enhanced by the humor. It was as if circumstances had yielded for just a second to allow them to find beauty in the broken. Sylus was looking at Zayne as if he’d created the stars, and Zayne was looking at Sylus as if he’d lit them just for him. Their hearts fluttered, and the humor gave way to something far more intimate.

“I adore you.” Sylus said, voice dreamy and thick. His smile wasn’t teasing or smug, but pure, honest happiness. Zayne felt his heart melt right then and there. He reached out to touch Sylus’ face with a disarmed expression. He felt so vulnerable, but had never felt more alive. What if this could be life someday? What if waking up to touch and laugh could be forever? It seemed so impossible, but felt so right.

“Come here.” Zayne urged, stricken with the need to feel Sylus’ lips against his again. Sylus slicked the fingers of his right hand, and repositioned his body next to Zayne’s to give him what he wanted at the same time.

Zayne relaxed into a soft kiss from Sylus, letting his arms circle his neck to pull him even closer. Sylus felt Zayne’s entrance relax enough to allow his fingers entry and began to work him open slowly. They took their time, tasting each other and Sylus taking special care to glide in and out of Zayne’s hole to find the places that made him respond the most.

Sylus purred into Zayne’s mouth with a sigh, his own arousal heightened with every tense pulse of Zayne’s body around his fingers, every soft sigh, every moan. He withdrew his long fingers in a way that made Zayne groan with an ache at the loss, but glided his slick fingers up to Zayne’s cock to stroke him. Zayne’s fingers dug into Sylus’ back muscles as he responded, tensing and heartbeat quickening.

Their lips crashed together, and Zayne felt the heat pooling in his abs ready to burst but tried to scoot back, not quite ready to let go. Sylus nipped at his lips and held his hip secure while his slick hand created steady pace. Zayne moaned, twitching within Sylus’ hand as the warmth grew and reached a climax, sending him spilling onto his stomach.

Sylus drank in his face as he came, eyes squeezed shut, back arching, lips falling open. He stood by what he’d said to Zayne; ”I’ll make sure that I’m the only one allowed to see you like this.” He let go of Zayne’s softening cock and let him breathe for a moment. Both of them were filthy now, a fresh gleam of sweat crossing both of their faces. Sylus pulled Zayne’s hand to his lips to kiss his knuckles reverently.

“I would kill for a shower.” Zayne breathed softly, basking in the glow of his orgasm. Sylus nodded in agreement, fingers moving to circle Zayne’s wrist and teleport them into the bathroom to start the water. Zayne stumbled, momentarily disoriented with the sudden change of position, and Sylus caught him, steadying him on his feet with a kiss to his temple.

When the room filled with steam, they stepped under the water together, and Zayne moaned with the feeling of hot water hitting his sore muscles. He looked at Sylus with a furrowed brow, and reached for his eyepatch, only to have Sylus catch him at the wrist.

“That’s probably uncomfortable.” Zayne said. “You slept in it all night.”

“It’s alright. I know it’s not pleasant to look at.” Sylus replied. Zayne looked at him incredulously.

“It’s part of you. And it’s nothing I haven’t seen before.” Zayne said matter-of-factly, using his other hand to gently pull the leather patch away from Sylus’ face and toss it out of the hot shower. Sylus cringed when Zayne cupped his face, bringing his gaze back to center to look at him properly. One scarlet eye stared back at him. One hollow socket, vacant and exposing healthy pink muscle watched him sightlessly. Sylus’ eyelids fluttered closed as Zayne leaned forward to kiss the scars at the corner of his right eye, reserving another for his mangled eyelid.

“Do not insult me by assuming there’s any part of you that unsettles me.” he whispered, using his thumb to massage at the indents across his cheek that the straps of the patch had left behind. His voice had a hint of smile to it, full of affection. “Foolish crow.”

Sylus let out a scoff laced with dry laughter, and opened his eyes to see fondness on Zayne’s face, his hair plastered around his face and shoulders from the shower. How could one person be so adamant about blowing through every last line of defense he had? His heart fluttered in his chest. Every time Zayne spoke, he felt himself being pulled in deeper and deeper. He still felt exposed, but the discomfort was slowly starting to wane.

“As you say, Reaper.” Sylus kissed his forehead, and let his hands drift down Zayne’s body. He reached for the bar of soap on a tray near them and began to work it over Zayne’s body to cut through the sweat and grime of the day before.

Zayne let himself be touched, massaged under the water and felt his cock stiffen again. Sylus passed Zayne the bar of soap and gripped the cheeks of his ass. He leaned back in to lick at stray drops of water that trailed over Zayne’s pale shoulders as Zayne reached around to wash his back. His silver hair flowed around his shoulders and gathered together in long waves across his chest.

When they were both satisfied, the bar of soap was forgotten on its tray once again, and they settled back into the rhythm of their kisses, the firmness of their strokes and the heat between their skin. The urgency rose, and Zayne rolled his hips into Sylus’ to rut against him. Sylus pulled at Zayne’s hips, tapping at one of his thighs to prompt him to raise one leg and then the other until Sylus was holding him snugly with Zayne’s legs around his waist.

Sylus wasted no more time, positioning himself to nudge his aching cock inside of Zayne’s needy hole. Zayne winced at the feeling of Sylus thick girth slowly stretching him open and guiding him into a dance between pain and pleasure. He was urgent, but gentle, letting Zayne’s moans and grunts guide him into the perfect pace to lower Zayne down completely onto him.

Zayne was impatient, biting at Sylus’ lips, digging his fingers into his back, moaning soft pleas into his ear. Sylus felt his chest swell with pride as Zayne tried not to squirm, and when he was fully seated inside of Zayne, he pressed him into the ceramic tile wall of the shower and began to move.

They’d been in this position before; Sylus overtaking him and pumping into him against a wall, but this time there was no teasing. There were no threats, no snide remarks, no emotional vacancy. It wasn’t their first time, but it was one of their first times being present and together as the heat began to build up in both of them. Sylus’ lips darted to his lips again, and he closed his eyes, desperate to find Zayne’s scent underneath the clean soap smell and the steam of the shower. Zayne seemed to remember too.

“What if you kept me?” he said breathlessly between thrusts, echoing Sylus’ words from the first time they’d escaped their own minds together. “What if I was yours?”

Sylus groaned, his orgasm approaching savagely. He remembered the words, but they meant something completely different now. His hands groped at Zayne’s ass, one drifting to his cock, and he could feel the moan that shuddered out of him at that.

“Wait.” Zayne said, hot water slicking his chest as he begged his own hips to stay still. Sylus’ hand froze in place, and he stared at Zayne, searching for his discomfort. “I don’t want this to be over yet. I don’t want this to end.”

Sylus swallowed. Zayne felt it too. The shadows banging at the windows of this tiny space they’d created. The threat looming above a perfect sunrise. Sylus pressed a kiss into Zayne’s forehead, fire in his blood, determined to force the dawn to break just for him.

“It’s not over until we say it’s over, Zayne.” He breathed. “Don’t you understand how much we’re stepping into? It’s like they all keep telling us; we’re stronger together. Whatever comes next, I’m not letting you go even for a moment.”

Zayne’s lips trembled. Was this what it was like to be wanted? What was the opposite of being left behind? What was the cure for being forced into responsibilities he never signed up for?

“You could learn to love a killer?” Zayne whispered across his lips as their noses brushed together.

“Only if you can too.” Sylus told him with a sharp smile. Both of their hands were stained in blood, and they were simply two people who had done what years of survival had taught them. Zayne rolled his hips up in an answer, leaning forward to take Sylus’ bottom lip between his teeth. They were done with the idea of never asking for more. They embraced their greed, and Zayne came with a loud moan.

Sylus wasn’t far behind him, pulling Zayne close so he could bite into his shoulder with enough force to break the skin, injecting a spike of pain into Zayne’s orgasm that had Zayne craving more. Sylus growled around Zayne’s skin between his teeth, emptying into him with rapid, angled thrusts.

Their heavy breaths synched up and Zayne looked up at Sylus’ feral expression, the water washing away a small stain of blood on his lips. He reached up to brush wet bangs out of his face, to show him the right eye that Sylus had felt so bashful about before. He understood it; Sylus desperately missed what he’d had before, enough to feel incomplete and lesser because of it. But this time, Sylus didn’t shy away, and kept both eyes open. Zayne hoped that it meant he was leaning into who he was despite his changes. He pressed another kiss to his brow. He hoped that Sylus was closer to accepting who he was, because that was the person he was falling in love with.

____

They made their way out of the shower, pulling on fresh clothes that Zayne had provided. The sweats that he’d rummaged around the closet for fit Sylus unexpectedly well.

“They were Caleb’s.” Zayne explained. Sylus quirked a brow at this, damp hair falling around his face in ringlets.

“You also have some of her things here too. Why is that?” Sylus asked him. Zayne ran a towel through his hair and grabbed a fresh one for Sylus. Sylus followed him to the couch in front of the TV and sat next to Zayne to let him dry his hair for him.

“This place was our first home off of the streets. When Caleb went to the Fleet, he started to earn money, and then she took on her bodyguard job. It’s only one bedroom, but it was home. Caleb stayed here whenever he got time off and through basic training. She did too. We all contributed to the rent and had a plan to find something bigger when we’d saved a little.” Zayne said. “It was cramped, and we’d alternate between the bed and the couch and floor. Although, if one of them had the bed, it was likely they were both in there. Sometimes on hard nights when we were all exhausted, it didn’t matter and we’d all collapse on that poor mattress together.”

“So you and your friend, you were never…?” Sylus said curiously. It wasn’t a point of jealousy, not anymore, simply an intent to learn something new about Zayne. Zayne let out a loud laugh.

“I raised those two. Never in a thousand years.” Zayne chuckled, leaning forward to brush his hair aside to plant a kiss on the back of Sylus’ neck. “Besides, I have plenty of appreciation for women…but not that way.”

Sylus chuckled along with him, as Zayne raised a brush to his long hair. It was intimate, sweet to do something as domestic as work through the snags in his hair for him, and Sylus felt as though he could pur at the gentle touches. He felt a loss when Zayne put down the hair brush. Sylus stood, retrieving both of their phones from their discarded clothes the night before while Zayne retrieved a stash of chocolate he’d left behind in the apartment. Sylus laughed at him.

“Are you a squirrel hiding treats away like that?” he asked with amusement in his gaze. Zayne rolled his eyes goodnaturedly as he clicked on the TV.

“Those sound like the remarks of someone who doesn’t get any chocolate.” he said, pretending to be offended.

Sylus leaned back, reclining on the couch to lay his head in Zayne’s lap while they watched some shitty medical drama that Zayne seemed to know everything about. Every so often, Zayne would pass him a candy, brightly wrapped in foil while they shared space.

“Why would she cut that wire? Doesn’t he need it to survive?” Sylus asked, zoning out.

“Well yes, but if he’s in immediate danger, he’ll be a better candidate for a heart transplant over someone else, and she intends to ensure that he gets it.” Zayne said, swallowing a bite of candy. Sylus wrinkled his nose.

“Well that seems short-sighted. Even if he gets the transplant he seems as though he’s on death’s door.”

“Agreed.” Zayne nodded.

“It’s ridiculous. And yet I can’t look away.” Sylus admitted. Zayne handed him another chocolate with his own amused smile.

Their lazy paradise was shattered with a vibration of Zayne’s cellphone on the coffee table. Zayne leaned forward to snatch it and answered as soon as he recognized the number as Caleb’s.

“Caleb?” Zayne said into the receiver and his expression tightened in concern, Sylus sat up as Zayne’s tone changed. “Slow down. What’s wrong? Yes, I’m at the apartment. I understand. I’ll see you soon. Be safe.”

Zayne hung up the phone, an expression of worry on his face.

“Caleb’s on his way, something has him scared. Can you go back and retrieve the Godeater? We might need him for this.” Zayne said, his relaxed shoulders starting to tense back into a hard line that made Sylus wilt.

“No need.” said Sylus, picking up his own phone to start typing a message. “Mephisto is still at the warehouse, he can deliver a message for me. I don’t want you here alone when Caleb gets here. We don’t know if he’s chipped or not.”

Zayne nodded, heart breaking at the idea that someone could have gotten to Caleb. It was always a risk, but Caleb had indicated that it wasn’t a threat just yet. Zayne hoped that was still the case.

Zayne clicked off the TV, the background noise suddenly too stimulating while he sat with his thoughts. Sylus didn’t know what to say, so they simply sat in wait as the minutes ticked by silently. Finally, a knock was heard at the door, and Zayne used the peephole to confirm who it was before he unfroze the ice that bounded the broken door together to the doorjam and pulled it open.

Caleb looked afraid. His expression stone cold and pale as he walked past Zayne. He froze when he saw Sylus and even through his stress he narrowed his eyes.

“You’re not gonna hit me again are you?” Caleb asked soberly. Sylus shrugged.

“Why? Do you need to be hit again?” He asked nonchalantly, reaching for his eyepatch to clasp it back into place.

Caleb looked like he was ready to say something else when a golden glow erupted into the middle of the room, fanning into a large sparkling portal. The expression on his face was one of shock as someone who looked exactly like Zayne stepped out. Caleb recognized him and the red tattoo on his arm from the fight at Headquarters and swallowed nervously. This other Zayne had an impossibly heavy weapon in his hand, and it appeared to be some kind of hand cannon. From the size alone, Caleb wondered how this person was able to hold it in one hand.

Without a word, the other Zayne raised the weapon directly to Caleb’s face and pulled the trigger. An electromagnetic pulse reverberated as the golden light faded behind him.

Chapter Text

For a moment, the air was still. Caleb had his eyes squeezed shut, shoulders hunched and hands raised at the sight of a weapon drawn on him. The Godeater was looking at him intently, the pulse cannon held strong and still in one hand with his god-like strength. Sylus’ eyes had gone wide, and Zayne’s mouth was open in shock. They had all heard the low, rounded noise of an electromagnetic pulse race over Caleb’s face and head, but he didn’t seem to react strongly. Nothing had happened to him.

“What the hell was that!?” Zayne broke the silence to seethe in rage, marching over to the Godeater with an angry expression. He shoved roughly at Godeater’s shoulder and his frown deepened when the sorcerer did not move an inch. “You could have killed him!”

“I didn’t.” said the Godeater simply, laying the heavy weapon down on the ground. Zayne grit his teeth, a frost of black ice springing to the back of his neck.

“But you could have. What were you thinking!?” Zayne hissed, hands curling into fists as if he planned on striking his other self.

“But I didn’t.” Argued Godeater, narrowing his eyes. “We needed to know if he’d been chipped, and you were confident he wasn’t. Now we know for sure.”

“You could have given us a warning.” Zayne continued his tirade. “The only reason Carrion was as well off as he was was due to his Evol. You weren’t there. You didn’t see the aftermath. Why wouldn’t you tell me first?”

“Because you wouldn’t have agreed to it.” the sorcerer shrugged. Zayne let out an angry noise. He wondered if his other self had any idea what it was like to lose someone close to him in an instant, and realized that he probably didn’t. That fact did more to annoy him than anything and Zayne reached out to grab Godeater harshly around the bicep. Godeater’s face turned cold, and his body went rigid from being grabbed. His green eyes narrowed in a warning.

“This isn’t how we do things.” Zayne said darkly with a matching expression on his face.

On one level, the Godeater found it amusing;the only human who knew better and still took his chances against his incredible strength and immortal divinity was, of course, himself. On a different level, his patience with being chastised and manhandled had begun to run out.

“Now is not the time, Dawnbreaker.” he warned coldly. His tone made the three humans in the room shiver. There was something innately threatening about Godeater. Despite his identical appearance to Zayne, despite his tshirt and blue jeans and casual sneakers, there was something unspeakably ancient about the way he spoke and the way he held himself now.

“Zayne, I’m fine.” Caleb interrupted, walking forward to place a hand on Zayne’s shoulder. Zayne flinched at the touch but his grip around Godeater’s bicep loosened and he dropped his hand roughly, glaring daggers at his other self. The demi-fiend turned his attention to Caleb.

“I apologize if I scared you. You know by now that the Colonel you deal with is no man. He is prone to tricks and manipulation to subdue, and failing that, a fist of violent authority. If he’s marked you as one of his tools, there’s no limit to what he won’t do to you.” said Godeater. Caleb swallowed.

“He’s got an army.” Caleb said nervously. “It’s what he designed the Pawn Chips for. He’s putting them in Alterum so he can command them. He’s putting them in regular people too, but he wanted an army of wanderers.”

“He told me that war was coming, but I didn’t imagine he’d assemble a second army.” Godeater said pensively. His voice dropped down to a skeptical tone. “And he just volunteered this information to you?”

“No. He threatened me. Said I was asking too many questions and told me to learn my place. It was after I got back from the mission.” he explained quickly. Godeater’s lips pursed and his jaw clenched.

“He wants you for something. Do you know what it is?” said the sorcerer, folding his arms.

“It seems as though he could be using Caleb to wound Zayne.” Sylus spoke up, fingers brushing his chin in thought. “Just like he tried to do with me. And yet you have no chip. Why is that, I wonder?”

“I don’t know. He keeps telling me that I’m different, or special somehow. He keeps trying to test my loyalty. That’s why he had me on the mission to Deepspace.” Caleb answered him.

“What was the mission?” asked Godeater.

“It was a search mission. We had to find a very rare protocore that we ended up finding on an ice planet. It took almost a month.” Caleb explained.

“So you found it, the “Creation Protocore?” Zayne asked him. The Godeater froze. The blood drained from his face and his eyes went wide. This time, he was the one who was showing a glimmer of pure fear.

“Creatio Protocore. That’s what he wanted?” Godeater asked anxiously, correcting Zayne. Caleb nodded slowly, and the demi-fiend stepped forward, causing Caleb to take a step back. “Answer me. Did you give him the Creatio Protocore?”

Caleb’s own face was pale with fear. He’d seen what this man could do in a fight, and was completely certain that he could snap his neck like a twig. He glanced to Zayne, eyes wide and pleading for help.

“I told him to.” Zayne spoke up. Godeater turned to him, face tense with shock, demanding an explanation. “You were gone, and we had no idea what it was. I worried that if Caleb betrayed the Colonel too soon, they would hurt him.”

Godeater tried to calm himself, but his lips trembled and his own fists balled. For the first time, Zayne noticed a frost pattern on the sorcerer. The person who had been a bastion of control, their defacto leader. The one with all the answers, displayed a platinum-colored spray of frost like lace winding up his wrists. He closed his eyes, trying to digest what this would mean. In all the days he’d been away from home, he’d never wished so badly for his dragon to be with him now. He felt his soul quiver, and placed a hand to his chest. He closed his eyes, steadying himself and felt calmly down the soul bond to try to feel faint touches of the Sovereign’s soul in his own chest as if reaching for his hand. A soft, concerned energy wafted back to him as if his dragon could feel his horror himself. It helped. He steadied himself and the frost on his arms faded away.

“Can someone please tell me what the hell is going on?” Caleb said, on the verge of panic. “Zayne, I trust you. I know I’m not entitled to know much but you gotta give me something. Please.”

Sylus was also looking quite perplexed, arms folded and uncomfortable as he watched the situation unfold. Godeater looked back at Zayne. His eyes communicated concern but his silent question was clear. Do we trust him?

“Tell him everything.” Zayne told the Godeater.

And that’s what he did. It took well over an hour for Godeater to explain his story from start to finish, complete with visions of his own memory broadcasted in window-like portals to show Astra’s true might and the risk they all faced now. He went over the current state of things. The Doctor and the Conqueror. Carrion’s story with Zayne. The horror of dreams that Zayne had been subjected to.

“So the Creatio Protocore…it’s powerful. And I put it in his hands.” said Caleb with a face of pure regret. The Godeater swallowed, taking a breath.

“Yes.” he admitted. “There was no way for you to know. I had no idea it existed in this reality. I didn’t think to warn any of you. Destroying it in my reality took an immense amount of power, and if Astra absorbs it, our task doubles in difficulty.”

“So we need a plan to take him down.” Caleb said with a determined glint in his eye. “Tell me what to do.”

“That’s it? One heartfelt slideshow and you’re on board?” Sylus said with skeptical eyes. He’d watched Caleb be Zayne’s adversary, watched as he tried to arrest him for crimes he knew Zayne never could have committed. Caleb held his gaze evenly.

“Dunno how you expect me to be a skeptic after all that.” Caleb argued. He turned to Zayne again. “Let me help. Even if he wasn’t some crazy god, he’s dangerous. The army of Alterum, the chips in perfectly capable soldiers that make them wanna throw their lives away? He’s gotta be stopped. I’m in.”

“There’s one more thing.” Zayne admitted. He was careful with his words, intent on not causing Caleb to spiral or doubt him now. “I had another dream while you were away. I made contact with her.”

Caleb’s determined eyes turned soft and pleading.

“Are you sure?” he said, an instant yearning creeping into his voice.

“Yes.” Zayne told him, mouth suddenly feeling dry. “The Fleet has her. A.S.T.R.A. has her in Skyhaven. She says they’re planning to move her back here to Linkon, but she couldn’t tell me when, just that we’d know.”

“That can’t be right.” Caleb said, his words picking up in speed. “No, I looked for her within the Fleet. I searched for her with everything I had, something would have popped up.”

“No it wouldn’t have.” Sylus interjected. “This Colonel is working in the shadows. You know how under-wraps A.S.T.R.A. is. There was no way for you to know.”

“They hid her under an alias, and they redacted most of her file.” Zayne agreed. “They kept us from her intentionally, Caleb. It’s not your fault.”

“She’s been so close to me this whole time.” Caleb said softly, trying to hold a wave of emotion back from his voice. He sank into one of Zayne’s kitchen chairs, cradling his face in his gloved hands in an attempt to piece his thoughts together. Zayne gave him a moment to gather himself, to try to align himself back to the cause.

“She said she had a plan, but if you can find her with how close Astra’s keeping you, we might be able to do something about this sooner. Find out what you can. We’ll get her back.” Zayne promised him. “Her aethercore has been protecting her, she’ll be okay until we can find her.”

Caleb nodded, eyes suddenly looking very tired. His head swam with information, trying to process multiple blows at once. Everything he thought he knew about the universe was cracked in half. He truly thought that all of his time spent in Deepspace had brought him closer to the secrets of the universe, only to find that he knew almost nothing at all. Now there were gods, dragons, differing realities.

His heart grieved at the thought of having her so close and yet so far away from him at the same time. She was in danger, constantly. And she had been completely alone this whole time. It wasn’t unbelievable that this shadow-unit within the Fleet wanted her. Of course they did. Her aethercore was one of the most mysterious forces known to man. What he didn’t want to believe is that he could have helped her, but failed to.

“Caleb.” Zayne said calmly, drawing his forlorn face back up to his soft gaze. “This is a lot to hear at once. I think you should get some rest in Linkon before you go back to Skyhaven.”

“Yeah.” Caleb replied on autopilot, voice ghostly and distant. “Sure.”

Zayne nodded to Sylus and his counterpart, and Caleb heard the shuffle of a heavy weapon being picked up and pages of a book being turned. Zayne placed a hand on Caleb’s shoulder. A silent promise that everything would be okay, just like when they were younger.

“We’re close. I promise we are Caleb. No matter how far apart we were, I know that we’ve both wanted this.” Zayne said, eyes gazing down at him in comfort. A moment passed between them, silent, unknowing. Zayne couldn’t fathom what Caleb had spiraled into and Caleb couldn’t cross the barrier into Zayne’s state of mind. The cold fingers slipped away from Caleb’s shoulder, and Caleb caught them with a gloved hand. Camaraderie. Family.

“I know.” Caleb said with a sullen nod. “Hey…Thanks for protecting me earlier. You didn’t have to. Not after everything.”

Zayne squeezed his shoulder, confident and strong.

“Of course I did.” Zayne said matter-of-factly before he slipped away from Caleb’s grasp to join Sylus at the golden portal. “Get some rest. Call me if anything changes.”

Caleb watched them disappear through a haze into a valley of flowers before he was left alone to question everything he’d just seen.

___

As Zayne, Carrion and Godeater emerged from the golden portal that Godeater had conjured from the book he kept at his side, the air was awkward. Carrion laced his fingers between Zayne’s momentarily, giving him a reassuring squeeze before slinking off to his room.

“Dawnbreaker…” the Godeater started. Zayne held up a hand to silence him. He didn’t want to hear it. He knew that from the start the Godeater had an agenda and that was to take down Astra. A god who destroyed worlds. Someone who had to be stopped and disadvantaged at any cost. As much as he understood his counterpart’s logic, he hated it.

“You don’t remember what it’s like to be human, do you?” Zayne asked earnestly.

“No.” the sorcerer said honestly. “But we are entering war, Dawnbreaker. Against an opponent who will use everything we love against us. You know that.”

“I know.” Zayne said. “But you crossed a line. You could have hurt my family. You have to know what that means to me.”

Zayne watched the eyes that so closely resembled his own go soft. Remorse? Guilt? He wasn’t sure. But the rest of his expression stood firm.

“It was a risk I felt that I needed to take. I’m glad that Caleb is alright.” he said. “It brought me no pleasure.”

“From now on, we need to be honest with each other. All of us. If we’re to move as one, you have to trust that we can make decisions that are difficult.” Zayne said as calmly as he could.

“I hope you mean that, because we’ll be tested again before this ordeal is through.” said his counterpart solemnly. Zayne gave a small nod in acknowledgement, and turned to walk towards the kitchen.

The Godeater watched him walk away, trying to harden his heart at the conflicting emotions he must have felt. It was true, he didn’t know what it was like to be human. He didn’t have other friends or people to protect in his life; only one. And with every day that passed, his heart seemed to cry out in pain a shade greater than the day before.

He missed his Sylus. He craved his clawed touch, the feeling of a tail wrapped around his waist to pull him close. He missed his words and the gloss of his scales against his skin. Dawnbreaker may have had a point, but hadn’t he given enough to matter? Hadn’t he sacrificed night after night that he could have been with his mate over the war he waged with his former god?

They’d be together soon, he tried to tell himself, a hand rising to his chest to cover his heart. He had to believe that.

Zayne made his way down the hall, a sour taste in his mouth. He hoped there was still water left, and made a mental note to make a run to Diyu before the week was out and stopped when he heard whispered voices in the kitchen.

“I can’t believe you haven’t told them yet.” said the Doctor’s Sylus in hushed tones. He sounded surprised, and his voice was swayed with disbelief, almost judgmental. “Especially when you know that they still struggle with it. It would change everything for them.”

“And what of the logistics? They’re hardly set up to accept it even if they know about it.” the Doctor hissed.

“They can’t even begin to think about it unless they know.” Sylus asserted. “You know I’m with you no matter what, but they deserve to know. Dawnbreaker deserves to know.”

“I’m not keeping it from them.” said the Doctor defensively. Sylus scoffed.

“It’s a question they’d never think to ask, and you know that.”

“Keeping what from us?” Zayne said, stepping into the kitchen.

The Doctor froze, shoulders going rigid and throat bobbing like Zayne’s did when he was swallowing guilt. Sylus looked back at him, expression frozen as if trying to conceal an emotion. A sick second of tension passed between them, and Zayne folded his arms as his irritation grew. First the Godeater and now the doctor. He stared his counterpart down with an unyielding coldness.

“What are you hiding, Doctor?” Zayne said tersely. Footsteps sounded down the hall behind him, and Carrion walked into the kitchen behind him, suddenly thrown off by the tension he found there.

“What’s going on?” Carrion asked with a glance at Zayne. Zayne kept his gaze pinned to the Doctor like needles.

“The Doctor has a secret, and I would like to know what it is.” Zayne said coldly. “Now.”

It was a rare moment; a sheen of blue ice peeked from under the collar of the Doctor’s sweater, curling up his neck like fractals. Zayne kept quiet, maintaining his stare.

“It’s about Protocore Syndrome.” the Doctor said quietly, wetting his lips as he tried to gather his words. Zayne’s mind flicked to the state of things, the way it had ravaged his world from the ground up, chased people underground and invited a full military police state and had turned Zayne into a killer from childhood.

“What about it?” Zayne prompted him. The Doctor looked at him and exhaled a heavy breath.

“I cured it.”

“Excuse me?” Zayne said, quirking an eyebrow.

“I cured Protocore Syndrome.” the Doctor said softly. “After years of research in my reality, I found the cure. First it was treatment, Joule Therapy, that was inspired from Sylus’ Evol. Then we tested a vaccine and branched off into preventative medicine. Now we have something we can give to the elderly, expectant mothers. In my world, Protocore Syndrome is now a preventable, treatable illness. There hasn’t been an Alterum in Linkon City or Sylus’ territory for two years.”

At first, Zayne was skeptical, but as he studied the Doctor’s guilty face and Sylus’ inability to make eye contact and he saw red. His face felt numb. He felt Carrion stiffen next to him.

“You had something that could have prevented so many deaths…and you failed to mention it?” Zayne said, anger bubbling up from the place in his heart he’d finally contained it to. His voice was tight, measured, and brimming with anger.

“It was never the right time.” said the Doctor quietly. Zayne snapped.

“What do you mean it was never the right time?!” he shouted. “Do you understand how many people I’ve killed? How many of their faces I see every time I close my eyes? How many children have had to die because of your preventable, treatable illness!?”

“Zayne.” Carrion said quietly next to him.

“No! I want to know when you were planning on telling us any of this. When would it have been convenient for you to mention, Doctor?” Zayne seethed. The Doctor swallowed, his blue ice fanning out on his forearms and Zayne’s black ice began to spread on his own neck like inkblots on white paper. “Answer me!”

“When the threat was mitigated!” the Doctor fired back. “But go ahead, when should I have told you this: while you were struggling to find your family? Or directly after we came face to face with a god who could kill us all? Or maybe right before we burned a mind controlling chip out of Carrion’s head? Tell me, Dawnbreaker, when was the right time?”

“Don’t turn this back on me.” Zayne growled. “You have seen first hand what I fight night after night in my sleep and every spare second I have available when my eyes are open, and you kept this from us.”

“And how do you think we’re going to implement this?” the Doctor stood up straight, a spark of anger firing behind his own eyes. “Do you think the Fleet is going to help you? You have no footing in the underworld either. Even if you had the cure, how are you going to make sure that people get it before it’s too late? You can’t even trust your hospitals!”

“It doesn’t negate the fact that we could have been coming up with a plan this whole time, and you have robbed us of that.” Zayne bit back, knuckles going black with a slick of his ice as he balled his hands into fists.

Carrion opened his mouth to speak up, but caught Sylus’ eye behind the Doctor. Sylus stared at him with intent and subtly shook his head no. This is their fight.

The Doctor’s face, screwed up in anger, drew back as he tried to calm himself. He took a breath, trying to conquer the ice that spiraled up his limbs. Even the hems of his pants were taking on a soft-blue frost.

“I wish I told you the day we met. Or the day that we made peace.” the Doctor admitted. “I’m sorry. But the blows have kept coming one after another, I can’t seem to find my place in this war let alone introduce new puzzles for you to solve.”

Zayne let the fury wash over him. The Doctor had made several points that Zayne desperately wanted to ignore in favor of his anger. The answer was that there was no correct answer. This was war, and each step was laden with the promise of another threat one after the other. Zayne reluctantly let his fists relax, and the ice slowly receded from his knuckles. It wasn’t fair. None of this was fair, and it cut especially deep to know that everyone who came into contact with the problem had felt their own type of pain.

“I promise you, Dawnbreaker: when this is over, I’ll help you. We’ll figure out how we can get this to your people. But right now there is an actual god who wants us all to perish in great pain, and we need to solve that problem first.” said the Doctor calmly.

Zayne bit back a string of curses. The Doctor was right and he hated it. He struggled with himself savagely, anger swelling in his chest with nowhere to go. Zayne flinched at the feeling of Carrion slipping his hand into his softly.

“Zayne, don’t you know what this means?” Carrion murmured. Zayne looked up at him, searching his face. “It means that when we’re done fighting, you don’t have to be Dawnbreaker anymore.”

The fight ended there. Ice melted from Zayne’s neck and limbs, and his hand grew warm under Carrion’s touch. The words were powerful, something that Zayne had never dared to let himself hope for since he was twelve years old.

You don’t have to be Dawnbreaker anymore.

His breath felt like it had left his chest, and Zayne stared up at the Doctor with eyes of hope.

“You’ll help me when all of this is done?” he asked, eyes shining as he tried not to cry from relief. The Doctor nodded.

“I promise.” he said earnestly. “Every shred of my research will belong to you.”

Zayne let out a cleansing breath that made his lungs feel new again.

“No more secrets. Please.” he said to the Doctor. The Doctor sighed his own breath of relief and gave a small smile.

“No more secrets.” he promised. The air in the room calmed. It felt like a pressure had been lifted

Zayne felt Carrion tug at his hand, guiding him out of the room softly. He let himself be led back down the hall, mind swimming with conflicting thoughts. He didn’t feel as though his concerns were invalid, but he still regretted shouting at the Doctor. But as much turmoil as he was under, he paused at the feeling of his phone vibrating in his pocket. Caleb.

Zayne quickly answered and Caleb didn’t let him get a greeting out before he started speaking.

“I’m on my way back to Skyhaven, I just got the call. Something’s happened.” he rambled quickly, the light hint of his lisp flooding his speech. “There’s been an explosion, and the main headquarters building has completely collapsed. Something generating a massive amount of energy.”

The blood drained from Zayne’s face, and he knew what happened before Caleb could say the words.

“It’s her, Zayne. She’s ready to come home.”