Chapter Text
Evacuate. Evacuate. This is not a drill. Repeat, this is not a drill.
The shrieking sirens clawed at Abel’s ears as he pushed his way through the choking smoke to get to Cain, the noise rendering coherent thought impossible.
They’d lost each other mere minutes ago, or at least that’s how it felt to Abel. The passage of time was hazy now. Abel couldn’t remember how long it had been since he and Cain had woken up alongside one another, Cain’s warm chest pressed to Abel’s back, the alarm buzzing over their heads as Cain stirred behind Abel.
Had it been an hour since they’d been boarded? Five?
Abel couldn’t think anymore.
The lower levels were eerily silent. Red lights flashed over all the doors, signalling the ship’s distress. The walls were charred and dented in the aftermath of battle. Abel felt sick as he stepped over the bodies of countless fighters—all fighters, the dead. Always fighters.
Abel couldn’t remember when he’d last seen a navigator; a single pale head. He’d refused to abandon ship with the rest of them when he’d had the chance, had refused to abandon Cain, and as far as Abel knew he was the only one still here. The only navigator left alive on a burning ship.
Abel held his gun out steady as he rounded a sharp corner, tried to breathe through the acrid smell of smoke and blood and death.
“Cain,” he called, voice weak and hoarse, the sound of it bouncing off the metal walls and back at him. No one answered. Surrounded by the quiet dead, Cain nowhere to be found, Abel had never felt so alone in his life.
The lights flickered and Abel heard the ship’s engines go dead.
“Cain!” Abel screamed, breaking into a run.
He was starting to truly panic now, dread curling its cold fingers round his heart and squeezing the hope out of him. If Cain was already dead, Abel thought, then they were both as good as. It couldn’t be one without the other, and Abel knew there was no way he'd make it out of here alone. Without Cain, he wasn’t sure he wanted to.
There were two bodies at the end of the corridor: a fighter Abel didn’t recognize—though that could have been on account of all the blood—and an unmoving Colteron slouched against the wall, still in full battle dress, an opaque black helmet obscuring its face.
There was no blood on the body, no visible wounds. Abel couldn’t discern how it had died. He drew in a shaky breath, lifted his gun with a steady hand, and shot it in the head—the way Cain had taught him to—just to make sure it stayed down.
He stumbled over the bodies then, lungs heavy and aching in his chest, and screamed for Cain again. He heard thumping, uneven footsteps in the distance, the sound of one of the exits sliding open, and his heart pounded furiously behind his ribcage. Abel fell back against the wall, his whole body aching, and held his gun close to his chest, finger resting just over the trigger.
It was Cain. Abel heard him before he saw him—muttering and cursing under his breath in Russian as he staggered down the corridor—and Abel wanted to fall to his knees, cry with the sheer relief of seeing Cain walking and breathing again when he’d been so afraid Cain was dead; that the battle was over, the ship destroyed and her crew gone, Abel all alone and surrounded by bodies.
He dropped his gun, slid down the wall, and put his head between his knees. Cain was crouched down in front of him then, hands on Abel’s back, forehead pressed to Abel’s temple.
“Fuck— Abel, I thought I’d lost you,” Cain said low, and Abel did let out a relieved sob then, his hands finding Cain’s shoulders and pressing deep in his flesh, just to convince himself Cain was real, that he wasn’t alone anymore.
Cain leaned back to look at him and Abel did the same. Cain was hurt—crusted blood down the left side of his face and a darkening bruise under his eye; cuts all over his chest and arms; jacket gone and t-shirt ripped down the side, revealing a deep and jagged cut.
Abel put a hand to the back of Cain’s neck. Looked him in the eye. “How many?”
“Dead?”
Abel nodded.
“Everyone. The Colterons took off just after the rest of the navigators. Haven’t seen anyone alive since I left Deimos on the upper deck.” Something unfamiliar flickered across Cain’s face and he added, “But he’s probably dead now too.” He glanced away and clenched his teeth. “Stupid little shit should’ve just stuck with me, but no, he had to run off and be a fucking hero and—”
“Cain.”
Cain stopped, coming back to Abel again. A hard look fell over him. “We’ve got to get the fuck out of here before this place blows.”
Abel pressed his lips together and nodded again, but he was so weak now, the adrenaline slowly fading out of him, that he wasn’t sure how he was going to make it to the end of the corridor let alone the hangar bay. He’d only slow Cain down. Get them both killed.
Cain must have read his thoughts because he said, “You’re hurt.” He lifted Abel’s right arm to examine the break, causing Abel to wince, and scowled. “Why the fuck didn’t you just leave with the rest of them? You got a death wish or something?”
Abel trembled with the pain and tried not to show it in his face, was relieved when Cain finally let go of his arm. “I wasn’t leaving without you,” Abel breathed, and he didn't care if Cain thought him stupid, or too sentimental. “I-I couldn’t. Not without you.”
Cain didn’t say anything, just looked angrier. He grabbed the back of Abel’s head and kissed him hard instead of yelling at him, and all Abel could taste between them was blood, his own and Cain’s.
Cain stood and hauled Abel up by the shirt, taking Abel’s good arm and dragging them both towards the nearest exit. The sirens were still blaring, that deceptively calm voice advising them to abandon ship, over and over, and Abel was so weak now, so tired, that he didn’t want to run anymore. Wasn’t sure he had it in him.
“You’ve gotta stay with me,” Cain panted, putting an arm around Abel’s waist and pulling Abel into him, half-carrying him now. “I know it hurts, but if we don’t get the fuck out of here we’re going to—”
There was a deafening blast behind them. Abel recognized the sound immediately as Colteron weaponry. His heart sank in his chest. They weren’t alone after all.
Cain growled, ripped the gun from the holster at his waist and shoved Abel to the ground. Abel tried to get up but collapsed again, broken arm giving out on him, and rolled onto his back instead, hands clamped over his ears and eyes squeezed shut as bullets and laser-beams flew through the air above him.
When the noise stopped, smoke beginning to clear, it was too late to do anything. Cain was on the floor beside him, a dark patch spreading out over the centre of his chest, and Abel couldn’t even scream.
He scrambled to him, ripped off his own shirt and pressed it to the wound on Cain’s chest, vision blurring as he shook his head and whispered, “No, no, no,” under his breath, over and over again. Cain caught at Abel’s wrist, chest jerking as he tried to draw in breath. He looked up at Abel like he was terrified, all the color draining from his face, and Abel let out a raw sob that echoed all around them.
“Cain… Cain please, just—just hang on…”
But he couldn't. Cain’s hand fell back to the floor, his head lolling to one side, eyes glassy now. He was gone. Abel was alone again and the battle was over. They'd lost.
Abel lay against Cain’s side then and didn’t cry, just curled his fingers in Cain’s shirt and closed his eyes, breathing in Cain’s scent while he waited to be shot too.
Colterons left no survivors, and sure enough, within a few moments a dark shadow fell over them. Abel looked up at the Colteron’s dark and looming figure, saw himself and Cain in the reflective surface of the Colteron’s helmet, and glared straight at it—was determined to face death like a man, like Cain had.
The Colteron lifted its gun, aiming squarely for Abel’s head, when something unseen jumped up on its back and caused it to stagger backwards, its weapon falling to the floor with a loud clatter.
Deimos.
Abel knew it was him the second he saw the flash of a blade at the Colteron’s throat. Deimos didn’t waste time. He snapped the Colteron’s head back and pushed the knife beneath the base of the helmet, slitting the Colteron’s throat in one clean swipe. A shower of black blood poured down its armor, spraying Deimos’ boots, and the Colteron fell to its knees, a gurgling noise emanating from behind its helmet as it struggled for breath.
Deimos pushed a boot into its back and kicked it to the floor, standing there for a moment with his bloodied knife held at his side, breathing hard. He looked less injured than Abel and Cain had, though Abel couldn’t imagine how Deimos had managed to get this far and still look so pulled together—just one scratch on his cheek and a tear in the right arm of his jacket.
But his composure didn’t last long. His face twisted at the sight of Cain and he fell to his knees beside him, shoving Abel’s shirt off Cain’s chest and touching fingers to the wound on his chest. He looked across at Abel, silently begging answers, and Abel shook his head at him. Couldn’t even speak.
Deimos didn’t want to believe it. He pressed two fingers over the pulse-point at Cain’s throat. Did the same thing to the one at Cain’s wrist. He pressed his ear to Cain’s chest as if he expected to hear him breathing, and when he couldn’t he sat back, looking so distraught it was if the world was crashing down around him. It was.
Abel didn’t know what to say to him. There was nothing to say. Everything was gone.
Deimos lay against Cain’s chest a while, eyes open and unblinking as he curled his shaking fingers in Cain’s shirt. He didn’t cry. There was blood all over him now, on his face and hands, and Abel wondered whether he looked the same—empty and ravaged and broken.
Abel sat with his knees to his chest, didn’t know how much time had passed when Deimos finally sat up. He looked down at Cain one last time, wiping his bloody face with the back of his hand, and got to his feet.
“Get up.”
Abel didn't move.
“Get up! You think he’d want you to die like this?”
The ship shuddered around them and the lights flickered off and on again. Abel wondered whether the Colterons had set the Sleipnir to auto-destruct before he decided he didn’t care.
Deimos hauled Abel up by the arms, surprisingly strong for someone his size, and shoved Abel ahead of him, shouting at him to move, to go, to fucking run.
Abel didn’t look back at Cain. He gathered the last of his strength and allowed Deimos to push him toward the exit as the ship shook and debris showered down around them.