Archive of Our Own ^beta

"Viktor," said Yuuri. "Turn that off. The battery won't last forever, you know."

"What if someone sends us a message?"

"It won't matter if we're not around to answer it. Turn it off. The light might attract them."

Sighing, Viktor powered the phone down, plunging them into darkness. The thin walls of the shed creaked in the wind, and Viktor sat back with a grunt, pressing a hand to his forehead. 

Yuuri, as always, was hyper-vigilant, creeping around the shed, pausing to listen for the sounds of the dead. He shifted somewhere close. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," Viktor lied.

"Are you sick?" Yuuri came closer, walking in a crouch, a bit of light glancing off his glasses. "Are you... bit?"

"I'm not bit," Viktor assured him. "Just tired. That branch did a number on me."

Yuuri winced, no doubt remembering last week’s storm. They'd been running through the streets, trying to find shelter, when a tree had fallen, catching Viktor's leg and pinning him. Yuuri had gotten him out before the dead had caught up with them, but Viktor had been walking with a limp ever since.

"You need more time to heal," Yuuri said in a low voice. "I... I'm sorry..."

"Don't be sorry." Viktor cringed as a bead of sweat slid down his back. "I can deal with a little pain."

"Can I see it?"

Viktor shook his head, then realized the gesture was pointless, as it was completely dark. "I'd rather you didn't. I don't want anyone to touch it."

"I won't touch it. I want to see if it's infected or not."

Before Viktor could protest, Yuuri whipped out a penlight and a knife, slitting the leg of Viktor's pants and peeling back the stiff fabric. Viktor bit down on his lip hard enough to draw blood, hands clenching into fists.

Yuuri shone the small beam of light up and down Viktor's leg. Viktor watched horror overtake his boyfriend's face.

"It's really that ugly?" Viktor joked, tears in his eyes.

When Yuuri looked up at him again, the horror was replaced by betrayal. His face looked eerie in the dim light. "Why didn't you tell me it was this bad?"

"It's not that bad," said Viktor. "It looks worse than it-"

"How can you even walk?"

"How can I not walk?" Viktor cracked a smile. "I could never leave you."

Yuuri's face smoothed out, and he was back in survival mode. "Okay. Well, it's really swollen, and it's probably already infected, which is... bad." Yuuri paused. "We need to get you to a hospital."

"Yuuri, there won't be-"

"There has to be," Yuuri said with a surprising amount of venom.

Viktor drew in a shaking breath. "Yuuri."

"This isn't up for discussion, Viktor. You're going to be fine."

"Yuuri," Viktor insisted.

"Don't-"

"Yuuri," Viktor hissed. "I can hear them."

Yuuri went silent, clicking off his light. Sure enough, the groans of the dead had drawn close.

"They might be able to smell my blood," said Viktor. "Or sense that I might, ah. Might..."

"No," Yuuri snapped. "You're not dying, not turning into one of those… things. Not on my watch."

It wouldn't be your choice, Viktor thought.

"We'll wait for them to move past, and then we'll head for the city," Yuuri said.

"Yuuri, it’s not s-"

"We're getting you help," Yuuri said, “and don't argue with me."

"What happened?" Viktor marveled. "When did you become this person?"

"The end of the world happened," Yuuri said, retrieving his pack from the corner of the shed. "This is what happens. You adapt, or you die."

Like coal under pressure, Viktor thought. Yuuri... my diamond.

Minutes passed, and when the sounds of the dead had faded, Yuuri stood, slinging Viktor's arm around his shoulder. Viktor stumbled alongside him, tripping over his own feet as Yuuri led him out into the deserted street.

"I'll find a car to hotwire, and I'll drive us into the city," Yuuri said.

"It'll draw too much attention," Viktor objected. "We can't-"

"You can't even fucking walk," Yuuri snapped. "I'm finding a car."

More minutes dragged by. Viktor tried to hop along, keeping pressure off his injured leg. His body felt uncomfortably hot, and he could feel fresh blood trickling into his ruined sneakers. Each time his foot brushed the ground, his head pulsed.

"You gonna make it?" Yuuri asked as Viktor staggered for the umpteenth time.

"Hahh," Viktor panted, sweat dripping down his forehead.

Yuuri holstered his pistol and felt at Viktor's forehead. "Shit, you're burning up."

"Uhn... I can... make it. I can m... hh."

Viktor nearly fainted, then, knees weakening. Somehow sensing this, Yuuri knelt and swept Viktor off his feet. Viktor bit down on his own hand to keep from screaming when his infected leg was jostled.

"Stay with me," Yuuri said. "We're almost there."

"Liar."

"Stay awake, and you can insult me all you like," Yuuri said.

"Hnh."

"You're so light." Yuuri moved faster.

"Like a ballerina?"

"You're beautiful enough."

Viktor huffed a laugh. "Haven't showered... 'n weeks."

"Still beautiful. Sorry, I don't make the rules."

Viktor whimpered again. "Y... uu... ri..."

"Yeah?" Yuuri said.

"Mой… алмаз..."

Yuuri stumbled, and Viktor's legs knocked together. Red overtook his vision.

~

When Viktor came to, it was to of a sharp stab of pain. He cried out, eyes flying open.

"Viktor, thank god." Yuuri was sitting in the front seat of a car. Viktor realized he was stretched out in the back seat, head propped up on Yuuri's backpack.

"Wh... happn'd?"

"We got chased. I barely got away," Yuuri said. "How do you feel?"

"Shitty," Viktor croaked.

Yuuri passed a bottle of water back to him, and Viktor took a deep swallow. Yuuri watched him in the rearview mirror.

"Where, ahh. Where are we?" Viktor's vision swam.

"Nearly there," Yuuri said. "I think there's a base nearby."

"So?"

"So, we're going there."

Viktor's eyes widened, lucidity momentarily restored by the shock. "Yuuri, we can't. You always said-"

"Yeah, well, you weren't dying when I said that." Yuuri’s hands tightened on the steering wheel.

"We can't," Viktor repeated. "It's too risky."

"Vitya," Yuuri said, and he sounded like he was on the edge of tears. "You can't die. You can't. If we have to go to the government for help, then we will."

Another stab of pain, like a bolt of lightning up his leg. Viktor threw his head back, and it thumped against the window.

"Viktor?"

"Gh... I'm... okay. Gahh. Keep... driving."

"We're almost there," Yuuri said. "Hold on."

~

The next time Viktor regained consciousness, he was being carried through a hallway. Bright, artificial light burned his eyes.

"Yuuri?"

"'Fraid not, son," said the person carrying him. "Don't worry, we'll get you fixed up."

He was laid out on a bed and stripped of his clothes.

"His hand," someone said. "He's bit."

"Oh, shit, you're right!"

"No swelling, though. Sure it's a dead's?"

"He's got a fever, is that a symptom?"

"His leg looks fucking terrible."

Someone heaved a sigh. "It doesn't matter whether he's bit or not. We can't spare the medicine. We're almost out as it is."

"We can tell his partner he didn't make it, throw the body out when he's gone."

No, Viktor thought. No...

"Please," he whispered.

"Sorry, son," came the voice from before. "This is how the world works now."

"Should we inject him?"

Someone snorted. "Why bother? Open up his leg, lock him in one of the closets, he'll be dead in an hour."

No, god, please, Viktor begged. Yuuri... I can't...

Something cut into his leg, and he screamed, and his consciousness fled once again.

~

His eyes fluttered open. He was laying on a hard mattress, and somebody was cleaning his leg with a sponge. The intense sting and smell let him know they were using rubbing alcohol.

"Yuuri," he moaned.

"Yes, yes, so y've said." The person looked up at him, and her eyes widened. "Oh, you're awake. How d'you feel?"

"Where's... Yuuri..."

"I can get you to him, but only after I fix you up," she said. "I hoped you'd stay out for this, seein' as I don't have any anesthetics..."

She handed him a tough strap of leather. "Try not to make too much noise. Pass out if you can." She pulled on a pair of black latex gloves and took a deep breath. "M'kay, pretty boy, let's get you stitched up."

"Y'think 'm pretty?" he mumbled, trying for a half-smile.

"At least ya've still got a sense of humor," she said. "Bite down. This's gonna hurt like a bitch."

She was right — it hurt. A lot. He bit down on the leather, trying to keep from moving, but his back arched and his eyes rolled back, and it was too much...

~

Somebody was dragging him, floor moving underneath his legs. His head lolled back. A blast of chilly air hit him, and a door slammed shut.

Faint voices.

"I can let you see the body," the girl said. "It's against protocol, but I hate to see you like this. Promise you won't tell anyone."

"...I promise."

Yuuri, Viktor realized.

“Yuuri,” he tried to say, but his lips and eyes felt glued shut.

A door opened and closed, and something touched his face.

"He's... warm," whispered Yuuri, and Viktor's heart broke.

"Because he's alive," said the girl.

"Liar," Yuuri said, no inflection or accusation in his voice. His fingers traced Viktor's cheekbone.

"Look, I had to lie t'you, or you'd've caused a scene, and don't tell you wouldn't've. Feel his neck. There's a pulse there, promise."

Yuuri's fingers, rough and familiar, pressed at Viktor's throat. Viktor swallowed, mouth dry, and forced his eyelids to lift.

"Yuuri," he whispered.

"You're alive," Yuuri breathed, dead eyes coming back to life. It was like watching a flower bloom. "You're alive."

"Thanks to... her," Viktor managed.

The girl was standing with her back pressed against the door. "Just doing my job. Used to be a nurse before shit went down, y'know? Now, we're damned butchers."

"They were... going to..." Viktor wheezed, breathing accelerating.

"Leave ya for dead," the nurse spat. "We never get to help strangers anymore. This place is a damn prison, now. Nobody goes in, or out."

"Why did you help him, then?" Yuuri asked, seemingly unable to tear his eyes away from Viktor.

"Knew I could help, so I did." She held out a small tote to Yuuri. "Antibiotics and painkillers, 'nough for a few weeks. Give him the anti's twice a day, and the painkillers as he needs 'em. Don't OD. Should help with the fever."

"Won't they miss all this?" Yuuri asked, taking the bag.

"Maybe, maybe not." She shrugged. "Don't care."

Yuuri stood and pulled her into a tight hug. "Thank you," he said, voice cracking. "Thank you so much."

She returned the hug, awkwardly patting his back. "No problem. Now, get him on his feet and get out the back. There're never guards, but the door's locked."

"I can take care of that," Yuuri said, kneeling by Viktor's side again. His voice became tender. "Can you walk?"

"Only for you, моя любовь," Viktor said, hanging off Yuuri's arm.

"Get him to one of those safe spaces I told you about," she said. "Keep him off that leg for 'bout a week, let it heal."

Yuuri nodded, and as the nurse turned to go inside, he hauled Viktor to his feet.

As the nurse had promised, the back exit was unguarded. Yuuri picked the lock easily, and helped Viktor out into the street.

"I'm so glad you're not dead," Yuuri said after several minutes of silence.

"Me, too."

Yuuri huffed, but he was biting his lip and his eyes were moist. "I was... so afraid. I..."

"Me, too," Viktor said. "They were going to let me... bleed out in a back room, but the nurse saved me. I... heard her voice when it was happening, so..." His head ached. "It's kind of a blur."

"It's over now," Yuuri said, hand tightening around Viktor's waist. "We're never going to one of those places again."

Viktor laughed, then grimaced as he knocked into a car. "Good idea." He paused. "What was she talking about, with the safe spaces?"

"Oh. Well, she pulled me aside as I was..." Yuuri took a deep breath. "About to leave. She told me that there were lots of safe places in the city, with reinforced windows and things, most of them reachable by fire escape. Most of them have a specific green circle on the door to show that they're safe."

"Oh," Viktor said, tripping over a crack in the sidewalk. "Well, I hope we find one, soon."

It was already dark, but Yuuri kept the two of them close to the sides of the road, to avoid the dead. Viktor was clumsy with his bad leg, but he was able to stay quiet enough. Finally, in the dim light of the moon, Viktor spotted a door with a green circle spray-painted on it.

"There," he whispered, pointing.

Yuuri nodded, and they stepped off the curb to cross the street. Viktor's legs folded.

"Uhn... sorry..."

"You've probably lost a lot of blood," Yuuri said, lifting Viktor into his arms.

"I'm still beautiful, though, right?" Viktor grinned goofily, eyes fluttering as he fought to stay conscious.

"Obviously," Yuuri said, grunting as he shifted Viktor to a more secure position.

Viktor was set down, and watched, semi-conscious, as Yuuri jumped up and lowered the ladder to the fire escape.

"You have to climb a little," Yuuri said. "Can you make it?"

"I'll try," Viktor said.

Head swimming, arms shaking, he climbed, using only one leg. He hauled himself up onto the landing, covered in a fresh coat of sweat.

"I was worried you were going to fall for a minute," Yuuri said, coming up and pulling the ladder up behind himself.

"I... really... want a shower," Viktor panted.

Yuuri climbed in through a window, pulling Viktor through after him.

"Stay here," Yuuri said, flicking on his penlight and heading for the stairs.

"It's not like I have much of a choice," Viktor grumbled, slumping against the wall.

After a brief inspection of the small building, Yuuri proclaimed it safe. He returned to Viktor with several pillows and blankets, which he'd deemed useable after beating the dust out of them for several minutes.

"We'll stay on the second floor," Yuuri said, "so we can escape if we have to. We should bed down here for at least a week and let you heal."

Viktor groaned. "A week...?"

"Don't argue," Yuuri said. "Doctor's orders."

"She was a nurse."

"She was a medical professional, and you're an idiot," Yuuri said.

Viktor huffed, but he was too drained to put up much of a fight. His leg was throbbing — it felt better than before, but it still hurt.

"I'll find us some food tomorrow," Yuuri said.

Despite his best efforts, Viktor’s will to stay awake was weakening. "And wh... what do I get... to do?"

"You get to stay here and be domestic." Yuuri smirked. "You could embroider, or stitch up my shirt. It's had rips in it for weeks."

"Anything… to get your… shirt off," Viktor said.

Yuuri laid out the thickest blanket and half-carried, half-dragged Viktor onto it, propping his head up with a musty pillow and spreading a thick blanket over him.

"It's too hot," Viktor murmured, shifting.

"That's the fever talking." Yuuri laid down next to Viktor and pulled some of the blanket over himself.

They laid together for a while, until Yuuri took a deep breath and wrapped his arms around Viktor's neck, burying his face in the front of his shirt.

"God, I'm so glad you're alive," he said.

Viktor stroked Yuuri's hair, at a loss for words and the energy to say them. Yuuri traced circles on Viktor's back, and they fell asleep, together.