Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

She… she recognizes that voice. 

The thought makes Nastya look up, her mind trying to catch up with what her heart apparently already knows. The last time she’d heard it…

“And you’re not coming back?”

His voice, Jonny’s voice, brimming with confusion and hurt and back when he’d said it to her she hadn’t even cared.

“Wait!”

Nastya slams her head against the backwater bar’s grimy countertop hard enough she can feel her nose break, quicksilver blood dripping down into her mouth as she lifts her head up again. Jonny isn’t here. She’s imagining things. She’s been imagining things more and more ever since she was picked up out of the eternal vastness she’s subjected herself to and then found she didn’t have the strength to go back. Ever since she found herself a ship- not Aurora, not anything like Aurora -and took off, wandering aimlessly through the stars. Sometimes she thought about going back to them, back to her family, but that would mean going back to the corpse of her love and she could not do that, no matter how much she misses Jonny.

And she oh so misses Jonny.

And then the voice comes again, loud with excitement and just enough anger and sarcasm that it couldn’t possibly be anyone else. 

“Whatda say, Ashes? Up for a game of cards against these sorry sops?”

Every word she hears feels like knives against her skin. It’s not Jonny. It’s not Ashes. They aren’t here. They can’t be here, because if they’re here then-

Then she doesn’t know what she’ll do.

She just sits as still as she can and keeps her eyes focused on the cup of coffee that is not worth the emotional turmoil flooding through her. 

“You’re not coming back?”

The memory of his face, twisted in shock and pain, burns in her mind worse than any death she’s ever had, worse than freezing and suffocating in the emptiness of space as she watched the last piece of her love drift into the stars.

He’s not here. He can’t be here. She left him.

“Nastya?”

There’s a cheer from the card game behind her, good-natured grumbling from the person who isn’t Jonny, who can’t be Jonny. It’ll probably end in a bar fight, she thinks dully. She needs to leave before then. Should’ve left already, but she can’t get his voice out of her head.

“Wait!”

Someone bumps into her shoulder, calling out an apology. Just her luck she recognizes that voice too. Unlike Jonny, she doesn’t remember what the last thing she said to Tim was.

She knows it wasn’t goodbye, though. 

Tim’s “Sorry, sorry!” drifts in her head. She doesn’t respond, just leans further forward and prays that her hair will hide her enough that he doesn’t recognize her.

Does she want him to recognize her? If he did she’d have to see the others. She wants to see the others. That single thought has been consistent, ever since she left. She wants to see the others. She cannot see the others.

Does she know what she wants anymore?

She tries to take another sip of her quite frankly vile cup of coffee- black, no sugar because the Toy Soldier was the only person who ever put the right amount of sugar in, and if the Toy Soldier had made her this coffee she would not be in this situation, would she -raising the cup to her lips only to remember it’s empty. She really should go. Instead, she flags the bartender down and asks for another drink, because it’s a reason to stay. Something alcoholic, this time. She needs it.

“Where are you going?”

“I told you. Out. I don’t know where. Somewhere else.”

“When are you coming back?”

“Probably won’t.”

She tips the drink down her throat the second it’s in her hand. Doesn’t even know what it is- doesn’t care, either, as long as it’ll make her forget-

“And you’re not coming back?”

Someone behind her accuses someone else of cheating and she hopes it’s not Jonny because if it is this bar fight is starting far sooner than she’d thought. Accusing Jonny of cheating at cards is a surefire way to get a bullet through the head- not because he’s not cheating, as he normally is, but because when playing against anyone but Ashes Jonny is actually quite good at cards. Had a lot of practice growing up, he’d laugh if asked, causing Brian to give him a worried look Jonny would quite pointedly ignore-

Fuck. She couldn’t be doing this- this reminiscing . She has to get out of here.

She stands abruptly, almost knocking over her stool in her hurry to leave, to get out of here-

Wait. wait, no. she’d- she’d be leaving him. Again. 

“You’re not coming back?”

No. She- she can’t- she can’t do that again, can’t leave him again, can’t-

“Nastya?”

She- she can’t just leave him, he’s so close, he’s so close and she misses him so much and she can’t leave him-

“Wait!”

She turns before she can even think about it, movements jerky and desperate and-

And there he is. 

There he is.

There’s her brother. 

He’s so close . 

He’s facing her- thank goodness, because she doesn’t think she could bring herself to go up to him -leaning over his cards with a grin. He’s still got that stupid eyeliner that he always insisted was amazing, and his hair’s grown out since she left- it’s almost brushing the tops of his shoulders now and he keeps pushing it out of his eyes despite the fact that it’s shoved back by his goggles.

He looks happy.

Is he happy?

Does he miss her with the same gut-wrenching, soul-tearing ache she misses him?

“Nastya?”

Is she… crying? She can’t be crying, right? And yet there are tears dripping down her face as she stares at him. She misses him . She needs him to miss her too because if he doesn’t then she’s all alone -

She doesn’t deserve him to miss her. She left him. She left him . She left him. She left him and she did not look back even as he-

“And you’re not coming back?”

He looks up. 

Nastya cannot breathe. 

His eyes find hers and she can see the exact moment he realizes because he goes very, very still.

She cannot even think.

There isn’t anything on his face other than pure shock. “Ashes?” he says, and she can hear him perfectly despite the commotion of the bar. “Ashes, I think I’m hallucinating.”

What?

“What?” Ashes asks. They haven’t looked up from their cards. 

Jonny blinks at her, pain flashing across his features. Guilt, hot and sharp, digs into her stomach. “I think…” He swallows weakly. “I think I’m seeing Nastya .”

He… what? He thinks… huh?

Ashes still hasn’t looked up, save a darting glance at Jonny. “Thought you were over that. Seeing her everywhere.”

Seeing her…? He- he hadn’t seen her- 

Oh. Oh, he doesn’t think she’s real. 

Oh.

“So did I,” he hisses, a look of panic growing on his face. “But grief’s a fucking bitch, and according to Marius that means seeing Nastya even when she’s not here because-” He laughs then, sharp and broken, and Nastya still can’t make herself move as Jonny drags a hand down his face. “-because why would she be here? She’s fucking gone, she left, and I just need to move on .”

She can’t breathe past that white-hot guilt flooding her throat. Her fault. It’s her fault. 

“I’m pretty sure Marius also said something about not pushing yourself to get over your grief too fast? Or something like that?”

Jonny whips his head towards Ashes to tell them off and she takes the chance without Jonny’s eyes on her, without Jonny’s gaze digging into her soul, to run.

Again.

She’s leaving him again.

“You’re not coming back?”

She barely makes it out of the bar before she ducks into the nearest alleyway and begins to sob, hot tears streaming down her face as she collapses against the wall, sliding down until she’s curled up on the rough pavement. 

She left him.

She left him again.

She misses him- oh, god , she misses him.

What is she supposed to do now?

She can’t leave again. Can’t get on her ship and pretend like she’s ok with roaming the stars as if the only thing she wants to do isn’t hunt down Jonny and cry until he forgives her or she dies, whichever comes sooner.

Does she go back in? Try and…

And what? Apologize? Tell him that he wasn’t hallucinating, she was just too much of a coward to say anything?

And what happens then? Does she go back with them? Back to Aurora, who hasn’t been the Aurora she loved in centuries, the last bit of her burned as a final farewell in a distant star? Does she go back to living with them? Playing with them, as if nothing had changed when in reality everything had changed?

When Nastya had changed?

“When are you coming back?”

“Probably won’t.”

Will they even take her back?

Does she deserve that?

The look on Jonny’s face…

She left him. 

Twice, now.

How the hell does she fix that?

“Nastya?”

“Wait!”

“You’re not coming back?”

She buries her face in her knees and sobs.

Chapter Text

Eventually the tears run out. The tears always run out. You can’t cry forever, after all.

Though god knows Nastya has tried.

Grief is odd. Grief is odd because sometimes, it’s so overwhelming and choking that you’re drowning in it. Sometimes, it’s so sharp and painful that it’s like needles beneath your skin. And sometimes, it’s just…

Numb.

She’s so numb.

She misses him.

The thought hits her with sharp clarity through the half-dried tears and hands wrapped so tightly around arms that nails dig into skin, leaving silver droplets behind.

She misses him.

It’s not new. She knows she misses him. But the weight of it only seems to register then, on that rough pavement as gunshots ring out from inside, the end and cleanup of a barfight she hadn’t even noticed starting.

She misses him.

She just wants her brother back.

Why is that too much to ask for?

Then again, it’s not, is it? The universe, whatever gods or fate or other bullshit she’s long since stopped believeing in, it had given her that chance, hadn’t it?

The chance to get her brother back.

And she blew it.

She ran.

Again. 

“I think… I think I’m seeing Nastya.”

And oh, that’s a new one, isn’t it? Another phrase added to the endless loop of regret and hurt that keeps spinning through her head, Jonny’s voice breaking over and over with pain and she can’t, won’t do anything to stop it.

“And you’re not coming back?”

Is she? Would she? Could she do that? Go back to the jokes and the singing and love as if she’d never left?

Would they let her?

Did they hate her?

They don’t hate her. They can’t hate her. She doesn’t know what she’ll do if they hate her. 

Jonny… had he sounded mad, back in the bar? When he though he…

Probably. Jonny sounds mad more often than not. And he’d always reacted… badly to people he loved leaving. By his terms or theirs. Carmilla, his father.

Her. 

People left and he got mad. That’s just how he reacts.

He hadn’t seemed mad. He’d just seemed…

Broken. 

She did that. She made him sound so lost.

Her fault. 

Maybe they should hate her.

He doesn’t hate her, does he?

Maybe the others will.

Does she want them to?

No, she doesn’t. She doesn’t.

…right?

It’s quiet now. Not in her head, of course, but inside. No more ringing shots. No shouts.

Had they left?

Had they left her?

“ I left them ,” she chokes out, forcing herself to remember. They couldn’t have left her when she’s the one who left.

She just wants her brother back.

Wants her family back.

Wants to sit on the bridge, keeping Brian company as he pilots through the endless sky they’d both been thrown into. Though hers had been her choice.

Wants to play assistant to Raphaella, happy to help her record data from test after test, watching the way Raph’s eyes light up at the results, grinning and excited.

Wants to come to Marius, quicksilver blood dripping down her arm, and listen to Marius scold her from not being more careful. As if he had any medical authority. 

Wants to drink tea with the Toy Soldier, to nibble around the teeth it had added to the teacakes. To listen to it happily chatting away at any topic she suggested.

Wants to read beside Ivy, the old pages of the books soft beneath her fingers as Ivy gives her more information about the book’s topic than there was in the book itself.

Wants to play cards with Ashes, pretending not to notice them cheating. Pretending to not notice the way they let her win regardless, because they’re secretly a softie. 

Wants to compete with Tim, eyes narrowed and surrounded by the crash of gunfire. He’s the better shot, but she’s the only one who can get close to matching his accuracy.

Wants to rest her head on Jonny’s chest, listening to the tick tick tick of his heart as he paints her nails, somehow never getting any better no matter how often he does it. Wants to listen as he hums a tune to the new song he’s writing, lyrics whispered under his breath as he drops his head on her shoulder, tapping the rhythm out on her arm. Wants to watch in dim lighting of Aurora’s night cycle as he makes her soup, claiming it’ll warm up her metal blood so she stops shivering so bad, and she rolls her eyes but still thanks him- cooking was never a skill she’d been able to pick up.

Wants her family back.

She just wants her family back.

But she’ll never have her family back. Not when Aurora, her Aurora, is gone and she left and now she can’t even tell if there’s any fixing it.

“She’s fucking gone, she left.”

She left . Can she fix that?

…she doesn’t know.

But she’s not going to find out curled up in this dark alleyway.

Nastya forces herself to get up. She doesn’t know if she can fix this.

But she can certainly try. 

Chapter Text

Once the decision is made, it’s suddenly so much easier. She’s already promised herself she’ll do it, so just existing with the choice isn’t agony anymore.

Not to say that the choice she made isn’t still hurting.

Find the others. She needs to find the others-

Not Jonny. Not after she left him.

Twice.

“She’s fucking gone.”

She shivers. Not Jonny. Not yet.

One of the others. Not Ashes, they were with Jonny, but someone else. 

He should be first. She knows that. If and when she explains, he deserves to be first.

“And you’re not coming back?”

He deserves that from her.

But she can’t face him yet.

It’s not hard to find one of the others. Follow the sounds of chaos and destruction, and they’ll be right at the source. This time, it’s the smell of toxic gas on the breeze and the cries of people not yet silenced.

It doesn’t take long to get there. This town- you could barely call it that, really, it’s just a string of bars with housing and one actually good spaceport thrown in -is so small and backwater she’s honestly surprised it wasn’t easier.

The gas in the air is making her dizzy- her mechanism keeps it from killing her, but that doesn’t mean it’s pleasant. It must be Raphaella’s design, because none of the others have dabbled in toxins.

At least. They hadn’t when she’d left.

The building is old, falling apart- it almost looks like someone took acid and tossed it haphazardly across the entire structure.

Actually, that might just be what happened. Knowing Raphaella and all.

The crying is coming from one of the back rooms. She pokes her head around the stone corner, deciding there’s not actually enough door left to bother opening it. A splash of acid drops from the dissolved wood as she steps through, burrowing into her skin before she has time to scream. Her blood heals the wound just as quickly, and she hurries through before any more can fall on her.

Raphaella’s voice- oh god, she hasn’t heard Raphaella’s voice in so long . She missed her…

“Brian, could you bring me that patient?”

Nastya pauses. Brian?

It… it isn’t that she doesn’t want to see him. She does.

She misses her crew.

But… but both of them… seeing both of their disappointment, their hatred…

They should hate her.

She can’t face them. Not both of them. Not now. She can’t-

She can’t.

“Ashes sent out a message,” Brian says lightly and oh god she missed him. “Jonny had a breakdown. Murdered some people. Murdered some more people.”

“Pretty typical for Jonny,” Raphaella replies. There’s a shifting noise, then a clang. Nastya leans forward- she doesn’t want to face them but she wants to see them so bad. If she can just…

“True,” Brian concedes. “Ashes took him back to the ship. Tim, TS, and Ivy are already there. They’re asking us and Mare to hurry up so we can get going.”

Raphaella huffs, and Nastya can just about peer around the corner now, can see the glare of light off Raphaella’s wings… 

“Tell them we’ll get there when we get there. I’m still waiting for the acid capsules to dissolve in some patients.”

“Fair enough.” She can see him now, can take in the form of the top hat resting on his coiled copper curls, the way his metal joints creak slightly as he drags another body to where Raphaella’s makeshift lab table is set up. Who’s been doing maintenance on him since she left? Raphaella did it on the others, yes, but Brian’s was more mechanical than medical. Had she been managing okay?

Why hadn’t she ever worried about that before?

Why had she never thought about how her leaving would affect them?

A gust of wind pulls her from her thoughts, and she blinks as Raphaella flaps her wings, lifting herself into the air. “I think that’s all of them dead,” she remarks, survaying the half-dissolved corpses. “Hm. Honsetly, those capsules were less distructive than I thought they’d be.”

“Their stomachs are acid goo,” Brian replies dryly. 

Raphaella hums. “That they are. But, since they’re all dead-”

“They’re not,” Brian interrupts. 

Raphaella drifts closer. “Oh?”

He points toward where Nastya is hiding, bored expression on his face. “There. Body heat showing up on the scanners.” He frowns. “Although… they’re showing up much colder than a person should be…”

Nastya curses under her breath. She’d forgotten Brian even had that ability- Tim did too, now that she thought about it. Kind of hard to hide from someone that could see your heat signature. Tim and Brian had both been banned- repeatedly -from doing so during murder hide and seek. Why hadn’t she remembered that? She’d even worked on it before, in both Tim and Brian’s eyes, so the fact that it slipped her mind is, quite frankly, infuriating.

Especially because now they knew she was here.

Raphaella drops to the ground just on the other side of the wall, and Nastya considers the distance to the door. Could she get there before Raphaella? Or, better question, how far would Raph be willing to chase her?

…a long while, Nastya is sure.

“Hello, little sneak,” Raphaella sing-songs, predatory intent thick in her voice. “Come on out. I don’t bite.” Nastya can picture the grin she must be wearing as she adds “Much.”

“Stop toying with them, Raph.”

She huffs at the words. “No fun, Bri.” Something slams into the other side of the wall, and Nastya barely avoids flinching. “Besides, don't you want to see who our spy is?”

“Someone whose loved one is currently dissolving on the floor?” Brian guesses without amusement. Then he sighs. “If you’re quick, I’ll let you play with them before we go back to the ship. Deal?”

“How quick?” Raphaella negotiates.

“ Raph. ”

“If you’re going to be a buzzkill, then maybe I’ll-”

Natsya bolts for the doorway, metal blood pumping. Behind her, Raphaella squeals in delight. “A chase! Oh, how fun! Watch out, little spy!”

She barely has time to register the gunshot before heat tears through her shoulder. She doesn’t stop, barely even reacts as she turns a corner, trying to remember the way out of the crumbling building. Her shoulder twinges as it starts to heal, and she reaches into the wound blindly, ignoring the pain as she digs for the bullet. If she let it, her mechanism will push the lump of metal out itself, but that way is excrutiating and she’d rather take the second to pull out the bullet and drop it in a puddle of silver blood on the floor.

Silver blood.

Silver- fuck.

If Raphaella or Brian sees-

Fuck. 

They’ll know she’s here.

They’ll know she ran.

They’ll know she left them.

Again .

Nastya hesitates for a second, then turns back toward the lab.