Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Sweat stung across Lomadia’s brow, prickling sharply against her skin, and she could feel her own held breath coiling inside her chest. Actual breathing seemed to have frozen entirely when she had rounded the corner into this impossible scene. There was Honeydew, axe in hand and weighed down by lumpy sacks; Sips and Sjin, shoulder-to-shoulder and with swords at covering angles; and even an armoured swish behind a nearby pillar that seemed to be Minty, of all people. And him – right in her path – as she had lunged, carried forward by adrenaline and raw nerves.

Here . They were here, or it sure looked like they were. Lomadia’s grip tightened against her sword hilt as she stared into those so-familiar blue eyes, barely inches from her own, and waited for it all to go wrong.

How did this work?

Her thoughts were unravelling at their edges now, spinning away into the swirling mists of dreadful confusion, dragging doubt across her mind. How did this work? She had been expecting Nilesy, before – always half-expecting him to turn up behind her, as he so frequently did – so had the formless horror just stepped into that expectation, then? Or was it something else?

She hadn’t expected this. Xephos – but not Xephos, how the fuck could it be Xephos? – had spoken, had said something as she’d borne him – it – back into the stone, as she had pressed her own shaking sword to the weak point in that black-plate armour, but she’d barely heard him. Even if there had really been words.

Had the nano-armour always been black? That black?

She wanted to believe it, she really, really did – but the too-close memory of Nilesy’s tar-molten visage was branded across her mind, and she gritted her teeth, putting as much effort as she could into keeping the sword still. Xephos was clearly trying not to breathe too hard – or at least looked like it – and she struggled for words in her own closing throat.

"Prove it," she managed, as she heard the clatter of arrival behind her, the collective gasp and a low reptilian snarl. There was an answering snort from Honeydew. Possibly Honeydew.

"This is fucking mad – "

He even sounded right, and that was so much worse.

"Tee, put one right through his goddamn eye if he moves," she snapped back, and the maybe-dwarf went silent as there was a soft sound of re-notched arrow from somewhere behind her. Lomadia stared into the blue gaze opposite, trying not to see the shock on that face, trying not to watch the faint wash of breath fogging against her sword. Her brain rebelled, spinning up memory around them both, until the world narrowed down to a tight cave of weirdly-blended pressure, ghosts of laughter cut through with the echoes of that shriek.

"Prove it," she repeated – and she knew she couldn't keep the desperation out of her voice; because she truly, honestly, wasn't sure what she would be able to do if he couldn't. Just stand here, possibly, while the strength drained out of her arm, waiting for the first sign of failing detail. If it was another of those things, if she had to see his face splitting apart down liquid seams, peeling back on itself into tarry desecration, she wasn't sure – even then – that she would be able to –

"I don't know how," Xephos started, his maybe-voice cracking ever-so-slightly – but before either of them could move, footfall clicked beside their frozen tableau and a blue shape swung into view, delirium-bright against the tension. There was a small, wet explosion as Nilesy leaned in swiftly and rammed the balloon hard against Xephos’ helmet. He yelped, and Lomadia managed to jerk out of the way as the liquid washed down his face, chasing bits of torn rubber into his beard. Spitting water, he looked back up, as disbelief and surprise chased each other across his sodden – but still very solid – features.

Damp. Dithering. And definitely him.

You bloody great idiot – what in the world are you doing here?

"Oh, you're welcome," Nilesy said without rancour, as Lomadia's sword clattered to the ground and she lunged forward again, catching herself against the other armoured form as sheer relief threatened to take her balance. The plated embrace was awkward, but Xephos returned it with equal urgency – and she heard him give a snort of laughter over her helmet.

"Thanks, for that."

"Fucking hell, Xeph," she growled, shaking at him slightly even in the embrace. "You do realise I nearly –?" She drew back, unable to finish the hovering words, caught somewhere between the still-peaking relief, and a weird, wrong-footed anger. Her fingers couldn’t be persuaded to let go completely, and left her at a pinned arms' length as she caught his gaze again. "I thought you were off on one of your – your bloody not-very-secret adventures! What are you doing here?"

Xephos looked a little dazed – although not as surprised as she might have expected – and he wiped at his face with a gloved hand, succeeding only in smearing whitish dust into wet trails over his features.

"Lalna rebuilt the portal." He glanced back, to where Sips had now re-positioned himself between a softly-growling Tee and the wary figures of Sjin and Minty. "There was… some trouble."

“Crazy bastard got himself chucked through.” Honeydew appeared beside them in a faint clang of boots, and Lomadia didn’t miss the slight glance towards where her hands were still locked onto Xephos’ shoulders – then back at the rest of her party – and the dwarf’s bushy eyebrows furrowed slightly. “We’re de-chucking. Surprisingly popular stupid idea, I see.”

Xephos’ lips twitched, almost at the start of a smile – and then the remaining colour drained very suddenly out of his face as his expression sobered and a new, worried urgency poured across his features.

"Lom, how did you get here? Is there a different portal, or something?"

Lomadia blinked. I’m missing something. Which isn't worrying, at all...

"We came after Rythian."

"I got that far,” Xephos cut in, and there was a strangely sharp edge to his voice. “How? Because we can’t - "

"Teleporting pub, mate." Nilesy had been hovering, awkwardly, behind them, and seized on a bit of recognisable conversation. Xephos boggled and looked up quickly; a similar expression caught onto Honeydew’s face, somewhere behind the beard, and Lomadia heard another mutter from further into the cave. She had definitely missed something.

"A what?"

"Teleporting pub," Lomadia repeated, and she could almost hear Nilsey giving a slightly-nervous grin behind her. "Yes, it is as ridiculous as it sounds."

She had been expecting a reply, but not the voice that suddenly floated back, bouncing echoes from some point further back down the chasm, blocked from her view by pillars. It was a little muffled, but recognisable enough, and she started at the sound.

“They've got a what? Why don't we have one of those?”

“Lalna?” Lomadia looked back at Xephos. “You actually found him?”

“Found both of 'em,” Honeydew said, then added with a shrug. “Or, they found us, anyroad.”

Lomadia heard Zoey make a small noise, but didn't turn round as she kept her gaze on Xephos' face. He didn't look as horrified as before, but there was still heavy concern sketched out across his features, and she hadn't missed the glance between him and Honeydew as the dwarf had spoken. Lomadia's own eyes narrowed.

“...it's not that easy, is it?”

“Never is,” Honeydew snorted, and craned back into the cave, where the other group had mostly collected back into view. “You want to explain, Tall, Thin and Brooding, or - ?”

-vwip- -vwip-

The creaking-shift of displaced air broke behind them – there was a cut-off gasp from Zoey, and a growl from Tee, although it sounded more annoyed than afraid – and Lomadia swivelled round to see a fading spill of purple-light motes, and a distinctly empty space where the redhead had been. Ravs rolled his eyes.

“Well, tha's pretty damn rude,” he muttered, and Honeydew gave a guttural sigh of irritation as he shouldered his axe and stomped back into the main space between the pillars.

“ - or we can keep waiting while everyone has emotional moments in the horrible dimension of fucked-up planning. Fine. Whatever. Which bag has jaffas?”

Lomadia picked up her sword, clipping it back at her hip, and took a slow breath. The air was still thin, still tasted faintly of tin, but it was something to focus on as she lined up thoughts, very carefully. She was missing something. Several somethings most likely – and she was getting sick of that.

“What – exactly – is going on?”

---

They congregated further back down the other path, where there was ceiling to the chasm again. With Tee taking his usual silent point and weapons in easy reach, it felt comparatively more defensible, if not exactly safe.

Actually comparing notes took some time. Some things made more sense than others – which wasn't entirely unexpected – and there were a few aspects to one or other part of the story that were clearly being glossed over. Lomadia didn't miss the way Sjin and Lalna positioned themselves at opposite ends of conversation, for example; or the steel gleam in Minty's eyes as she otherwise-airily described the Castle events; or the several-way avoidance of gazes that seemed to be running within the group, at different points.

It boiled down simply enough. There was no way back through the portal; Rythian had apparently been aggressively adamant about that. Zoey had seemed fairly sure that the pub would manage a return trip, and she had been right about most things so far – but Lomadia couldn't ignore the niggling point at the back of her own mind that there were a lot of things that Zoey seemed fairly sure about. She had certainly been on a winning run recently, but was that the kind of certainty you wanted to bet your life on?

Of course, it wasn't like they had an awful lot of choice.

So now, it was down to waiting on mages. They settled – although 'settled' was probably too relaxed a word for the agitated clustering around the cave – divided down the various lines of wariness that seemed to be in place. Distant sounds of Ender filtered through the pillared space; sometimes not so distant, as dark figures flickered into existence like the world's missing shadows. Generally they were ignored – when sunglasses, goggles, or simply not looking towards any new source of noise did their respective jobs – and the Endermen didn't seem overly interested in their presence, although that was very far away from being truly reassuring.

Lomadia left Nilesy and Ravs muttering about something accented as they kept Tee company in his vigil. She had a quiet word with Minty, seeking a bit more clarity over exactly what had happened back under Lalna's castle, although if the bartender actually had any more understanding she was smoothly good at covering it up. Lalna himself was half-hidden behind a pile of wires, bits of electronics and armour plates that seemed to have been the contents of most of the bulging bags they had been dragging; he had a very intense expression on his under-lit face, and she decided to leave him to it.

Which meant that when she reached the other end of the cave, hesitating by a pillar just behind the second watch-post, she had run out of reasonable excuses to use on herself. The faint crunch of her boots on the dusty stone seemed intrusively loud as she approached the remaining pair of sitting figures, and Honeydew stood up as she got closer, making an over-elaborate show of stretching his arms.

“We brought something to drink, right?” he said, a little more loudly than it needed, and nudged Xephos hard in the shoulder as he turned and headed back into the main cave, followed by a sharp flick of gaze in Lomadia's direction. “Unless Lalna's built it into a gun, by now, or some fuckin' thing.”

Then he was gone, clanging away, and Lomadia eased herself forward into the space he had left. Xephos was leaning back against the pillar, with his helmet by his side and the little laser pistol resting in his lap. He looked tired. Lomadia sat down too, shuffled along until she was out of view of the main cave, and drew her knees up as far as they would reach in her armour. She leaned on them, peering out down the bright canyon towards the tiered hillsides beyond, and tried not to look at the sky.

“Sorry for pulling a sword on you, back there” she said. It wasn't the most elegant of openers, but nothing more diplomatic was presenting itself, and she had to start somewhere. Xephos shrugged.

“Don't worry about that. It’s been a rough sort of day for everyone.”

“Yeah.” Lomadia looked down at her armour, at the greasy black smears that still remained against the plates in some places, and shivered. “Is Rythian alright?”

“I don't know.” Xephos leaned further back, resting his head against the stone, and looked up at the roof. “Looks like hell warmed up, but he's alive. I guess that's pretty good for here.” He hesitated, then turned his head until he was looking over at her, and a wry smile crept onto his face. “You know Honeydew's never been very subtle.”

“Oh, really?” Lomadia rolled her eyes. “Because decorating a factory with a giant version of your own face always seemed such an understated thing to do.”

Xephos laughed, which bounced its echo oddly around the pillared stone.

“Should've seen some of the early designs.”

“I'm fine here in my blissful ignorance, thank you.” Lomadia met his gaze, as the same grin found both their lips – but too quickly the moment faded and Xephos glanced away, as she felt her own expression sobering again.

There was a... space between them. It had been there before – more so than she had liked to admit, in recent months; like a weight in the air, drawing down until every action, every word seemed to roll away into that hidden void, and it made her stomach churn.

It hadn't been that long since they'd seen each other, had it? She had been busy, true – fixing the damage to the Island and handling the slow, wary influx of returning owls from the year's earlier chaos; and increasingly hanging around Blackrock. Equally, he'd had a lot of repairs to make on the factory, and it wasn't as if they had ever been comfortable living in each other's pockets.

But that gap seemed wider than ever, right now.

“And I'm sorry about the badge.” She hadn’t quite meant to bring that up yet, but the words slipped free anyway. After their earlier sharp reunion, and after Lalna's preoccupied reveal that he had been tracking them by the pin, Lomadia had given it back. She couldn't shake the strange sense of guilt that had cast in her mind as she had undone the bronzed shape, or when Xephos pocketed it, wordlessly but with an odd smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. The expression was back again now, and he shrugged.

“Don't worry about that,” he repeated, and the faux-casual tone to his voice made her stomach lurch again. Then he frowned. “...why, though?”

Lomadia looked up sharply, as the question sent a dart of sudden, smarting irritation across her thoughts.

“Because. You weren't there, and I was coming here.” She swung a short wave around them, jabbing accusingly at the visible strip of empty sky. “I didn't know if I should leave a note or a sodding will.”

“I wish you hadn't done either,” Xephos muttered. Another distant creak-snap of Ender sound reverberated down the canyon towards them and his gloved fingers tightened against the pistol grip. Lomadia rolled her eyes.

"Yeah, well; at least we brought a way out.” She hesitated, then reached over and laid her own hand down over his. "Look – you know that I like this.  What we are, like we are. It's just…" she trailed off, feeling a faint prickle of heat at the edge of her eyes, and blinked a few times. "I don't ever know, y'know? What you’re about to hurl yourself into. For fucks' sake, we didn't even realise we were both heading into the End. How screwed up is that?"

"I don't think this is a good example."

"Doesn't matter." The words were right there now, pushing up like sharpened bubbles against her thoughts, and she let them rise. "This, or something else – but one day you're just not going to come back, and I won't even know why."

“Neither will I,” he replied, then winced slightly as he drew his hand free and ran the fingers hard through his hair. “I don’t know what to – there’s so much I’ve never said, about me, and now...” he trailed off again, looking away, and Lomadia felt her jaw tighten a little.

‘Neither will I?’ Really? There was only so much cryptic she could deal with in one sort-of day, and Zoey’s half-coherent explanations had already used up most of that. She leaned round, dropping one leg flat so she could turn properly in her armour.

"I have seen you naked, and you scream in your sleep," she said bluntly, as he looked back up so fast it was nearly a jump. "How much d'you think I don't know?"

Xephos went very still. For a moment the eyes that fixed on her were suddenly a stranger’s, twin points of sapphire in a face that seemed suddenly so much older, so much more tired – and once again the somewhat-haggard figure she had met all those years ago, offering ridiculously generous payment for discreet passage out into the Wilds. She hadn’t asked then – hadn’t wanted to – but one dwarf, one nervy scientist and a drawn-out man who stared too long at shadows hadn’t seemed too risky a deal, for what they had on the table.

After that, and after everything else, they fell into that same pattern so easily. She hadn’t asked. Maybe she should have done.

Then Xephos blinked and he was himself again, although the tiredness remained, casting hollow shadows around his eyes. He let out a slow breath and when he spoke his voice was flat with careful, manual control.

“What have you heard?”

“Clearly? Mostly names,” Lomadia shrugged as she replied, and was surprised to find a flush of heat curling under her cheeks. Now she had started, now she actually had to put words around her own suspicions or recount half-overheard things, it was strangely embarrassing – as though she had been spying, sneaking a peek at something terribly intimate that she wasn’t supposed to know about. Now she was speaking though, the words were like a slope, and all she could do was skid down and try to keep some semblance of balance.

“Honeydew’s one. Daisy, another I think, and something about a strange night. And... Israphel.” She stopped again as she saw the shudder that swept him at the name, his hands jerking unconsciously towards armour-hidden scars before forced control swung back into place. Lomadia swallowed. She felt like an intruder now.

“I didn’t mean - “

“Please.” Xephos moved, shockingly-fast after his previous stillness, and gripped onto her arm. His eyes were bright, with an edge of liquid mania to the stare, and a grimace wound across his features.

“I – need to know what you see when you look at me. What – who – you think I am. I can't – ” he cut off, shaking his head almost violently, and Lomadia dropped her hand down over his own, tightening against his fingers until she could feel the shaking. She was out of her depth, but he seemed to be too, and she couldn't just leave him there.

“Well, even I know that last one,” she said; and it felt like a confession. “It didn't really reach out here – out there, I suppose – but everywhere knows about the War of the Sands. You fought in it.” She didn't wait for a nod, ploughing on before the words could catch in her throat. “You and Honeydew, though I don't think there were many dwarves who didn't, after the Khaz fell. I... I mean, it's pretty sodding clear you were there when Icaria burned. And you handle yourself better on an airship than someone who's only ever had his feet on the ground.”

The silence bore down like a physical pressure, strangling-thick, as difficult expressions twisted across Xephos' face.

“What does that mean?” he muttered, and his eyes were only half-focused on her. “What do you see?”

“I don't know, Xephos!” she snapped back, reddening again as she gritted her teeth. “You're you. What do you want me to say? You're bearded? Older than you look? Have a hopscotch board where your chest should be? What?”

Xephos stared at her – through her, his over-bright stare twitching faintly from side to side as if fixed on a scene playing out about three inches behind her left eye – then slumped back, cut-string sudden as he let go of her arm, and turned away.

“...sorry,” he muttered, and there was a shake to his voice that set a tight lump rising in her own throat. “I don’t... I say the wrong things. I just – sorry. Not the right time.”

“Is it ever?” That came out sharper than she had meant it to, and Lomadia tried not to flinch at her own word-choice as she clasped Xephos’ hand again. He didn’t pull away, but he didn’t look back at her either, and her heart sank.

There didn’t seem to be a non-awkward way out of this.

“I’m not so good at asking,” she said, quietly, searching the visible side of his blank face for any sign of reaction. “Even when I probably should, when something’s so bloody obviously wrong... But you don't talk about anything. The war, yes, I can see that, but before?” she hesitated, and shook her head. “I know you, Xeph, but I know sod-all about you. Even the basics. I mean, where is – was – home for you?”

He had gone still again. Then he blinked, very slowly, and his free hand went down to a pouch-pocket, and pulled out the little copper badge. He ran a thumb over the smooth surface, staring at it, and his lips twitched.

“I don't know.”

“I mean - ” Lomadia started, but Xephos gave a snort of odd laughter, cutting her off.

“I'm not being dramatic. I don't... remember who I was,” he said, very quietly, as he rolled the badge between his fingers. It clicked, then he put it down, resting his palm over it protectively. “Or what this even is. I just woke up, in the snow, with nothing in my pockets or in my head. If Honeydew hadn’t found me, I’d have died right there. And then...”

He trailed off again, and then pulled his other hand free and reached down, adjusting a few hidden catches until he was able to dislodge most of the flexible plating around his left arm. Setting the armour aside, he rolled up the underlying sleeve, and ran his fingers over the patchwork scarring that wound across him; the keloid runeworks of eventful life.

“Then it all got complicated.” He pinched in either side of one scar – a long, curving mark, the smooth edge of blade-bite, deflected down his forearm away from a more vital target – and a thin smile found his face. “I remember all of these. I remember where I got them, who we faced. Who we saved, and who we lost – and who they thought we were.”

Lomadia reached out – hesitated – but Xephos brought his arm up and she traced her fingertips gently again alongside his. She knew the mark, but the sudden focus on it seemed to light the ridged skin in unfamiliar ways, while the memory of old contact shivered against her thoughts; intimate or accidental, caress or just a light touch through his clothes. He shivered slightly and let the sleeve fall back.

“I remember all of it. And a hundred bloody convoluted ways to make Jaffas in the middle of nowhere, to boot. Sometimes I think I forgot how to forget things properly.”

“And nothing at all before that?” she asked, her own voice low. Xephos pinched the bridge of his nose, screwing his eyelids closed as he frowned sightlessly.

“I remember... light. And falling, I think. Then nothing until the snow.”

Silence folded back. There were other sounds, outside the muffled space that pressed down around them; occasional mutters from the cave behind, creaks and clicks of movement, but nothing really seemed to get through. Lomadia was painfully aware of her own breathing, heavy in her throat, and the strange sense of vertigo that was pooling beneath her thoughts. Some of this was familiar, some unsurprising, but the sheer release of pent-up words was unbalancing, and she had no idea where the flood would leave them.

“What happened? Did you ever find out?” she asked, carefully. Xephos shook his head, as his lips pressed into a humourless line.

“No. Nowhere to even start.” He looked down at his hands, curling his fingers a few times, very slowly, and when he spoke again there was a tremble in his voice. “Maybe it’s happened before. Maybe I never get to keep anything.”

His hands clasped together, tightening again until they shook, and he made a small sound, a choked-back cough that bounced back off down the canyon, scattering echoes.

“And that fucking terrifies me, because sometimes I don’t want to.”

Lomadia’s heart skipped a beat.

“What?” she couldn’t stop the incredulous question blurting out, and Xephos looked back at her, his expression strangely small, coiled up tightly, as if he were hunching inside himself somehow.

“Nothing fades,” he said, softly. “Not like I wish it did. The war, everyone we lost; everything I‘ve done, and everything I couldn’t. It’s all... here – ” he pressed his hand to his forehead, grinding the heel of his palm into his skin and grimacing slightly. “It never really goes away. I get so tired of it, y'know?”

“Not... really,” she admitted. It wasn’t as if her own life was particularly uneventful, and she had had more close calls than she really cared to think about herself, but this was something else entirely. Xephos sighed as he dragged his hand back down his face.

“Then I look at everything, now – and all I can see is how I'll lose every last moment of it. The war, the factory; even Honeydew.” He looked away again, his eyes screwing closed. “Or you. If I found you all again, if I got back, I wouldn't even know what I was looking for – and I won't care. These will just be weird scars.” The little badge clicked again as he picked it back up, staring at the small coppery shape with wet-bright eyes. “As empty as this.”

“You don't know that'll happen,” Lomadia said, but it sounded weak even to her. Xephos didn't move. “You said you don't know what happened the first time – that time,” she corrected, quickly. “Who's to say it's a pattern?”

“That's not the point.”

“It’s not – ” she started, but any continuation cut off as a sudden, very loud electronic whining sound burst into life back behind them – followed almost immediately by a small, crackling explosion, deafening in the otherwise-silence. They had both leapt to their feet, hands on weapons, before Lalna’s insistent follow-up reached them:

“It’s meant to do that, I just need to tweak it a bit. Chuck me that - no, not that one - !” the words were punctuated with a tinkling crash of something falling over, and Xephos gave a faint growl as he clipped the pistol back at his hip.

“Oh for pete’s sake, what’s he done now?” He took a step forward, brushing against her shoulder with a faint scrape of armoured contact, then stopped very suddenly, almost rocking in place, and a half-finished sound died in his throat. Lomadia swallowed.  She could feel all the broken edges of the interrupted conversation pressing back down against her, and searched for words that wouldn’t come.

“We should check,” she managed, eventually, and tried not to wince as she saw Xephos’ eyelids slide closed. Flickers of a dozen different expressions – all horribly complicated – danced across his face, before weary determination settled back onto its usual place, and he nodded.

They headed back into the cave, towards the increasingly-busy sounds of an argument breaking out, neither quite able to meet the other’s eyes.

-

Art! <3

A lovely storyboard of Lomadia / Xephos from Catato.