Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

June fourth. The Cosmodrome was never not cold even despite the summer months. Once the ice melted, there remained corners covered with snow and in the midst of a rising threat from the Fallen, it proved to be perfect hiding for a lone ghost. The pull of a soul was strong from the moment it left the Traveler and even stronger once it found the tattered remains of a body, long lost to the elements, tucked in between bars of metal like it’d been carefully laid on the backseat of the vehicle when it passed only to topple over once the elements ate away at the shell.

It wasn’t long after he examined the bones, the scrapes and deep cuts in the marrow, that the little orb knew the pull was from these remains and when he gave the bones flesh, he found himself entranced by two bright blue eyes, shaking in fear  like he’d just awoken from a nightmare.

Happy Birthday!

The first year of Kit’s life was an exuberant celebration, bright and merry, surrounded by friends and colleagues drinking and dancing. They’d throw confetti into the air and themselves off the Tower dock plates in celebration only to die and resurrect back at the top. He shared a birthday with at least five other guardians, after all. To be risen on the same day was a happy occasion. Then, like many New Lights, Kit followed veterans like a helpless puppy, eager to show that his fangs were sharp enough to make up for his lack of wit.

Who would’ve guessed that only a year later, that same fearless Guardian would find that distance from the Tower was dark and lonely? He spent his second birthday… his day of rebirth, not jumping in cascades of wine and song, but in the arms of an old Cabal who sang to him as he choked back sobs. “Happy birthday! Happy birthday! HAHAHA!”

In another year, Kit’s birthday was spent swimming in mounds of coin and glimmer piled high around him. That night, he spent himself on another Cabal, one of power and opulence in excess, one who hadn’t sung but laughed as he poured glittering jewels over his little Guardian pet until he was practically drowning.

Another year and Kit forgot about birthdays all together until Ghost uttered the words under his breath and Kit threw anything he could everywhere he could.

“Don’t say that!” He cried. “Don’t say that! Don’t say that! Don’t say that!” 

A year felt like a lifetime and with Kit so disconnected with the Guardians of the Tower, the Vangaurd swallowed his services whole without another thought when he came back after mysteriously disappearing on what he called “a mission only he could fulfill”.

On and off, hot and cold, Kit didn’t know what to make of this calendar cycle anymore. As he plunged into his work, he regained a semblance of the New Light he was before, but with no one to tell and no one to listen, he might as well have been stuck in that dungeon on the Tangled Shore with the corpses of a fireteam and the lustful eyes of his enemies.

And then came Uldren Sov, Prince of the Reef, Brother of the Queen, who’d grabbed Kit’s attention and stole it for himself. What a wonderful year. Gifts, a hand to hold, a voice to respond in the dark, and yet… it wouldn’t last forever. The spark between them combusted and, rather than remain lit, it fizzled out into ash the same way Uldren’s ship faded from the map, taken by the very outer space they found so much comfort in.

Kit remembered dates clearly now: death  dates— in particular, Uldren Sov’s and what felt like his own. Even then the years passed and at the end of a decade, Kit found a smile when Ghost prodded him with an update.

“Your birthday’s coming up,” Ghost said. They’d been relaxing at home in The Last City, under house arrest and stripped of their Vanguard access, waiting for whenever Q would ping them on their return.

The comment was out of the blue, but indeed, Kit’s birthday was in less than a month and he’d completely forgotten. The last time he had a birthday… His mind wandered to the window of his home and through it he recalled happy faces and music. When he met Perse and abandoned thoughts of Uldren and Crow, Kit and her held a private ceremony with cake, booze, and everything, even gifts. He still had the radiolarian “lava” lamp tucked in the dashboard of his ship. It felt like just yesterday he was begging Ikora to let him at the Concordat… Who would’ve thought time brought them here again? Only, for the first time in forever, Kit looked forward to being one year closer from surpassing the nickname Jin insisted on giving him: Rookie .

Ghost blinked slowly. “Gonna do anything to celebrate?”

Humming, Kit considered it, cocking his head as he looked at the light, but he quickly looked down with a breathy laugh. “My birthday, huh? Should we have a party? We have plenty of time for it now, don’t we?”

“Very much so,” Ghost concurred. “I have a few guests waiting for invitations if that’s the route you want to go. And there’s a certain someone who’s been waiting to see you for a while now.”

Someone’s been waiting to see him? Kit raised an eyebrow and set down the tome he’d gotten into that morning and was already a few hours from finishing. “Who is it? Why didn’t you say something sooner?”

Shrugging, Ghost pulled up a short length of text on a holo screen. “I didn’t know if you wanted to see him, being in exile and all that, so I had him wait outside.”

“Ghost!” Kit whipped a void marker on his page and shot up to get the door. “We’re not in exile and that’s rude! Why would you make them—” When he opened the door, he saw exactly why Ghost left the man who wanted to see him outside. “Oh… hey.”

“Hey,” Crow said, shooting up from his seat on the stoop. He looked comfortable perched there. “Can I come in?”

Uh, no? “Sure. Just watch your step. There’s still a bit of cleaning to do.”

“Thanks.” Crow gathered himself and a good-sized box that fit well in his hands and welcomed himself inside. “It’s not bad. Still better than anything I could ever do,” he laughed awkwardly. “Ahem. So, is Jin around?”

“He’ll be home soon.” Strange. Kit meant for it to sound aggressive, but when it came out, it stunned him just how lovely it was to have “Jin” and “Home” in the same sentence. “What can I do for you?”

“I don’t really need anything. I just wanted to come by and give you this before I leave.”

“You’re leaving? Where are you going?”

Crow shook his head. “Don’t know yet. The Hidden lost a couple of the best agents they had, so I guess they’re relying on me to pick up where you left off. That really isn’t important though. Here, this is for you.” Handing the package off to Kit, a shy grin played on Crow’s lips. “It’s just a little something since your birthday’s coming up and I won’t be here. Not that you wanted anything from me, I just thought this might help after everything you went through and to say sorry for getting you in trouble.”

He was right. Kit didn’t want anything from Crow, not anymore. They were something along the lines of friends now, but this felt a little too much a little too soon. Still, Kit was curious what the hunter cooked up for him. “Should I open it now?”

“You can, but I think if you open it with Jin, it’ll be better.”

“Is it a bomb?! ” Laughing, Kit held the present tight. The wrapping wasn’t too shabby if he disregarded how much tape was wrapped around the damn thing. “I’m just teasing. That’s very thoughtful of you. I appreciate it.” The small talk was getting tedious. There was a collection of void metallurgy articles waiting for Kit to read if Crow could just hurry up and skedaddle.

“Never! My bombs are wrapped much more discreetly. It’s a new service called Blow Before you Know. Ever heard of it? Of course, not ‘cuz you’re dead before you realize what hit you. Bad joke? Osiris said it could use some work.”

“You don’t have to force yourself.” Kit fought back a fit of laughter. “And don’t let Osiris bully you. He’s a moody old man and could stand to be disappointed every once in a while.”

“You are very much alike,” Crow sighed. “Well, I won’t overstay my welcome, but I hope you and Jin enjoy it, and I’ll see you around in a few months.”

Kit happily showed Crow to the door. “Likewise and stay safe out there.”

“Yeah… um… Kit?”

“What’s up?”

Hesitation betrayed every calm emotion Crow had until now. His eyebrows peaked, he chewed on his lips, and his eyes refused to meet Kit’s. A bad sign that what he had to say would sour their goodbye. “Can I talk about…. Him for a second?”

Him…? Oh … It felt like their every meeting couldn’t be complete without a mention of him . Still, there was a book open for him and Kit didn’t want to keep her waiting, so he acknowledged it. “What about him?”

“I just… I just thought it sad that you didn’t get the kindness you deserved for a long time. I wanted to say it, not for him, but because of him… H-Happy Birthday, Kit. May the stars in your gaze never fade and may your search always be fruitful. I’m so thankful that you’ll never be alone again.”

It was a sweet sentiment, but far too sweet for his tastes which were five foot nine and rapidly approaching his location. “Goodbye, Crow. Be safe.” What words Kit used to feel powerless to were just words now. He realized that when Crow gave him that faction pamphlet, so no matter what he said, Kit nodded and turned away, closing the door lightly behind him.

“He’s persistent,” Ghost noted.

“I used to be that way too.” Finally in the company of his book, Kit got the ping that Jin was home and he took Crow’s box to the living room table. When he tore off the wrapping and the sides, Kit blinked back surprise. It was a cake… much like the one Eva made him and many other guardians when they celebrated their birthdays at the tower.

“How sweet.”

Chapter Text

Dearest Ikora,

For a decade now, you’ve been an intimate icon of love in my life. You showered me with praise and insight as a guardian of your flock and how else can I repay such love than with the gift of my very presence? With your dusty old ass, it’s a surprise anyone has stuck around for as long as I have. Do you think there’s a relic with your portrait on it from the Dark Ages or is that just your image in the mirror? 

Admit it, you love my humor, and I’m a hundred miles away from your nova, so have fun reading all this. I can see the smoke coming out of your ears all the way from here.

Honestly, I’ve never met a woman with quite your conviction for expression. You have the whole Tower fooled into thinking you’re a callous witch when I know for sure that you are. I’m kidding. Mostly. The Tower doesn’t know how you wait up every night for your New Lights to return, hands fidgeting behind your back. And they don’t see how your tea grows cold when you are worried. And when you’re worried, god forbid we ever find a moment’s peace, because you are and always will be there to watch over us.

I haven’t always been fair to you. We’ve had our differences and fought about it, but nothing will change the fact that I love you. I always will. No matter how much we fight, I’ll always come to your rescue because I know you’ll do the same for me… when you know I’m in danger.

Happy Crimson Days, Ikora. 

I hope you can feel at ease knowing that I haven’t lost love for you yet.

Your “estranged and very handsome and capable prodigal son”,

Kit <3

Chapter Text

Crow,

I hope this letter finds you well. You know how unreliable paper notes can be especially in the hands of solar-users. I’ll try not to joke around. This is a vulnerable letter for me to write.

There were many ways I could have brought this up to you, but I think this is the safest for the both of us. I first wanted to thank you for what you did to help me and Jin. I can’t thank you enough and I won’t begin to assume how you feel about all of this after everything we went through. I’m grateful you did that. The flyer, the food… I’ll have you know I’m very familiar with Eva’s cooking. But most importantly, what you said, what he said really put a lot of things into perspective for me, and dare I say I hope we can become friends someday.

It’s not something I imagined with us. I wanted to be in love with you like I was with him, but I was unfair to you. I was no better than those guardians who still saw you as Uldren Sov the Killer of Cayde… I loved him and knew nothing of you. I apologize.

This time of year is difficult for me. You know that, but I realized that there’s a lot I don’t know about myself still and with you around, it confused me. Regardless, you are your own person and I hate that it took me so long to realize that.

You’re a good man Crow. I still care for you very much. Your heart is good and I know your mind is just as bright.

Please don’t try to respond. I’ll see you again when it’s time, but for now, take care.

Your Friend,

Kit

Chapter Text

Dear Misraaks,

This is a candy-gram from a secret admirer who asked me to write you this letter for them. They are a special someone in the city who has noticed your cunning and bravery from afar and want to tell you that you are a very special someone to them. 

They adore your demeanor, how you carry yourself, and best of all, your immaculate skill as a Splicer and a father. They want to express how impressed they are that you’ve accomplished so much and helped so many. They love the care you put into your work, your people, and your friends and with a stroke of luck, perhaps you could put that same amount of care toward them.

As a send off, I was instructed to leave you with this clue: 

In moonlight blooms

a reflection of you 

and in the blues of the sea 

will be me

Sincerely,

Kit (Messenger for your secret admirer)

Chapter Text

Ef,

It’s been too long since I paid you a visit. Do you still keep your tea leaves to dry on the window sill? It’s about time I brought you new ones from beyond, but there are many things to do and little I can discuss. Efrideet, as one of my last links to our days as Iron Lords, I hope you’ll forgive me for the neglect.

In the simplest terms: I miss you. Those words do not describe the yearning I have for days which have long passed us. You, Felwinter, and the peak we peered down in our youth; I miss it all. It hurts, but that means it was real.

To honor the Crimson season with my tradition, I bring you a new tale. A thrilling story of adventure and danger. We too often forget the things that bring the most danger are the pieces we lock inside ourselves. This time, I met with the Cloudstriders of Neomuna to find a dark moon just outside of their orbit. It was said that this moon was swallowed by Darkness, but from what Abel and I saw, the moon is hiding in shadow like it knew when to take cover from the Witness’ onslaught.

I think you’ll understand what I mean when I say that I must find this hiding moon… the significance of it, and that it could mean a breakthrough in our struggle against the Witness or the detriment of us all. We shall see when the seasons change on Mars and perhaps my letter will reach you by the time we’ve set foot on that moon.

Be kind to yourself. Though we are parted, the memories we possess are stronger than any thread in this universe. I have seen it. I know it. I will continue to write you when I can, but for now, I’m afraid I must go. As always, per audacia ad astra. If the light allows it, we shall see each other again in this life or the next.

Goodbye, Ef. 

Cain

Chapter Text

It’s a beautiful day, chilly, somewhat nippy, but the sun is shining and somewhere far away there are birds chirping. The neighborhood endangerment group is succeeding in bringing back long-lost creatures from the golden age and both the children and elderly are ecstatic. On the front lawn of a beautifully-manicured garden is a young man seated next to a pair of wine glasses and a plate of cucumber sandwiches. His electric blue eyes scan the stubs of dead flowers waiting for the cold to usher in blessed warmth and humidity so they may once again stretch up out of the ground and into the sun. Similarly, Kit’s arms stretched up, his hands reaching for the sky as he sucked in a cool breath through his nose. It was perfect. No worries, no Hidden assignment, no chaos call, no problems, just the Witness’ threat a thousand miles away and him on that patch of grass.

It was perfect until a tickle ran through his nose and left him sneezing loudly and scaring away any of the insects that had come to the surface to see what was going on.

“Bless you,” Ghost said from the dead peony bush. He took care in cleaning up the leaves, composting, reusing, the whole nine yards.

“Thanks,” Kit replied. With a napkin in hand, he blew his nose, realizing it was running and not just faster than usual, but at all. “What the hell?” He mumbled to himself, feeling a slight chill reach his shoulders. But the rest of his body felt fine, so what was going on? “Ghost, can you run diagnostics quick? My nose is running.”

“Huh, that’s weird. Not like you’re allergic to anything and even if you were…” Ghost thought for a moment and then remembered that Kit wouldn’t have anything like that as a Guardian. “...you wouldn’t. Let’s see.” Floating around his patient, Ghost scanned Kit from top to bottom, squinting his eye when he circled back around to his chest and head. “I see some mild clogging in your airways particularly in your sinus system. There’s a gradual heat increase in the area of your face and swelling near the ear canal.” Ghost ended his exam and nodded. “You have a cold.”

“A cold?” Kit shot up, holding the napkin to his nose. “I don’t get colds, there must be a mistake.”

“All of your symptoms are evident of a cold. It would be best to go inside, get warm, and increase your vitamin C intake.”

“Or you can just… get rid of it?” Kit gestured with his hands. 

“Or… that too. Alright fine, but don’t get sick in the first place and we won’t have to do this.” As requested, Ghost focused on Kit’s illness and called upon his connection to the Traveler to provide a healing light. This was an instinct as natural as breathing, so when the light he very well knew would be there was not there, Ghost blinked like he was waking up from a bad dream.

“Well?” Kit asked, annoyed.

“I’m trying. Just give me a second.” As he tried and failed again, the little orb felt dread as real as any other and tried to hide the panic. “Okay, this time for sure,” he said, voice cracking.

Kit let loose another sneeze and the chill air blew threw him with a shudder. “You know what? I’ll do it myself.” There were a couple of options here: Void healing which was sharp and cold and like a vacuum, and Solar healing which was warm and soft and gave a loving push to the sickness, practically boiling it away into steam and then into air. It wasn’t until Kit also expected the chill suction of void to be present in him and realized it was nowhere to be found that a pit dropped in his stomach. “Oh no… I mean… um… I’ll try solar?” Hugging himself and bowing his head in meditative prayer, Kit reached deep within for any lick of heat he could find and was met with utter darkness. Any connection he had to the Light was severed and in that moment, he felt the rush of mortality grip him in an instant the same way it did at the start of the Red War. Leaving the setup outside, Kit grabbed Ghost, ran inside, and locked the door.

Picking up the datapad from the lounge room table, Kit scrolled through at least a dozen messages from Jin and Perse and Q and Crow telling him to be careful, something’s cut off our access to the Light and it’s not safe. Crow offered to come over. With a quick swipe up, Kit assured him it was not necessary. Perse kept her location pretty much secret and with Ezra, Kit’s worries lessened, but she got a lengthy response too. Of course, Jin was on his way, but even that made Kit worry. Just how much chaos did this put everyone in? Some people had the faculties to run without Light and others…if a New Light was engaged in their first battle, they wouldn’t be able to survive it. Were there already accidental perma-deaths in the crucible? And what about the agents in the field?

“Kit!” Ghost snapped him out of it with a quick electrical pulse to the palm of his hand and scurried out once the grasp loosened. “You’re going to be fine. We survived before and we’re in even better circumstances now. Everything will be fine.”

“What about all the newbies on their first mission? What about people still in the mountains? What abou–ahh! Ah-CHOO!!” Sniffling, Kit went to the couch, snatched the throw from the back, and wrapped it around himself as he poured his attention to slow-received responses on his data pad. Ikora’s wasn’t worth the read: “This isn’t an excuse to let you off from punishment…” yadda yadda yadda.

“I’m getting you some orange juice, just wait right there. We have to have something else that can help before you get a fever.”

“Hey, I told you Mimosa Mondays were crucial.”

Rolling his eye, Ghost came back with a glass of OJ and an assortment of strange capsules. “Dolores and Ms. Trina dropped these off with that welcome basket of essentials last year. I guess their foresight is better than ours will ever be.”

“Ours?”

Ghost forced the pile into Kit’s hands and other than the quiet tap tap tap of Kit’s fingers on the data pad and the increasing sniffles and sneezes, they had no other choice but to wait.

The day transitioned into night and Kit transitioned from the couch to his bed, leaving the door wide open. That felt like hours ago, though. Despite his cocky and headstrong attitude, thinking he too could best this little sniffle with just a little nap, Kit fell into a deep fever. His body was like led yet shaking and shivering and burning hot. Ghost did what he could to help make his guardian comfortable, but without opposable thumbs, there was little else he could do but watch Kit suffer.

Without Light, even a guardian could get sick. At that moment, he was as much like his neighbors as anyone else and the aching brought him all the much closer to them in spirit. Before his lover arrived, Ms. Trina was in the house cooking a simple broth and chopping up ginger.

Delirious and hungry, Kit had no idea she was there as she fed him with a spoon, patting his head softly with a damp towel. The night was long. Whoever came and went were strangers to Kit and by the time he finally fell into blissful sleep, he’d borne the brunt of a disease that seemed to mock him.

When daybreak came, Kit was normal. He’d been completely restored, light and all.
Whatever happened the night before was like a bad dream and waking brought a mixture of dread and then relief. If this kept happening… if someday the light would disappear forever, how was he going to survive?

Chapter Text

Sputtering blood as he stumbled across the floor, Palm clutched at his stomach, chest, any and everything that started burning uncontrollably. He couldn’t do this here, not now, not when so many innocents were depending on him.

Abel knew these symptoms, but never had she seen them so rampant than that first day Palm tried breaking into the infected Iron forge, fated then to receive the same heavenly punishments as his kin. “It’s the light,” she said, instantly recognizing the source of their powers null and void. “It’s gone. Palm, we have to get out of here.” In the few short moments it took her to make sense of the situation, her risen was gone. “Palm? Cain!” She saw him climbing down into the pit they found. Hive were wreaking havoc on a nearby village and Palm set his goal on cleaning the place out and having tea later, but like this… without the light to slow the infection, he was attacked on all fronts and in hardly any position to be dodging enemy blasts.

Palm was sweating, the hair hanging over his brows was slicked back flat and his golden eyes watered as he climbed down, panting, wheezing, bleeding. Abel rushed over, trying to think of some way to help. “Darkness? You can slow the spread with stasis or maybe even stop it.”

Palm grimaced. “I’ve– I’ve already been using it,” he strained.

Shocked, Abel put away the fact that Palm had been using a power without her knowledge and continued to problem-solve. “Then Strand then, or something else. There has to be something else.”

A single miscalculation left Palm tumbling from several dozen feet to the ground where he felt a terrible snap in his leg and a soreness all over. “Abel….”

“Cain!” Abel flew to him, burrowing into his hood and refusing to move. “We can wait this out… it’ll come back. I can help you when it comes back.”

Cain and Abel were alone in the dark. They hadn’t made it to the ritual, so they were left in the pitch blackness at the bottom of a drop. The Hive incantations were muffled and rhythmic, nearly enough to put him asleep. But Cain laughed breathily, craning his neck so it pushed against Abel’s shell. “I won’t have a lot of time…. Even if it does return. Abel… my light. I think… we should think about the future—your future.”

“No, don’t speak. You’re immortal. As long as I’m here, you’ll live forever.”

“I am living on borrowed time. We all are. The majority just refuse to see it, that we are as mortal as anyone else. So please–” He nuzzled his chin against her. “Leave the world and waste your time on me. For as long as we have, let me stay with you… in this music.”

“Palm,” Abel sighed. “I would never leave you for anything. No Light, no Darkness, there will always be me and you.

Chapter Text

“A band? I was in a band once. Show me the flyer, kid.”

“Cayde, please, you’re going to scare him.” Ikora crossed her arms, periodically shaking her head as she oversaw this luncheon with one of her newest recruits. He was a loyal warlock and showing great promise in the vanguard—and he used void. Ikora couldn’t have been more smitten.

Still, if there was one thing the hunter vanguard did surprisingly well it was entice the very people he was alleged to frighten with his eccentritcity. Someday Ikora would learn that having the best attitude in the group made people like you, not the other way around. “So you want to join a band. That’s great. Here’s everything you’ll need to know.” Cayde went on about a life of solo gigs, fanclubs, groupies wanting signatures on their chests, living check to check, not knowing when one show flips and the other flops. And Kit, poor newly risen thing, couldn’t help but think this isn’t how a rock star is supposed to live.

“You don’t have to give up your solo career, just join a local band or something and do it on the side, or—”

“Cayde,” hissed Ikora. “Please.”

“Alright, what did you say you wanted to do?”

Kit thought long and hard about what he would be good at. His short time in the Cosmodrome lead him to long nights humming made-up tunes and mimicking the dancing from veterans roaming the grounds. “I like to sing,” he said, finding his voice as a minnow between two sharks. “I just don’t know if anyone will want to hear me. I’m know I’m new but…. it’s been a couple months now and I still get called Blueberry.”

Hand on his heart, Cayde listened in earnest. “It’s a badge of honor, soldier. Wear your blueberry name with pride. You only get one chance to. Anyway, you’ll find a good group and have fun, promise. Someone’s going to hear your voice and think it’s perfect. Take it from me. Started my own band years ago and took me months to find out I was not meant to be a vocalist.”

Forcing a grin, Kit looked to Ikora for help since Cayde-6 wasn’t getting anywhere in his young brain. She rolled her eyes and offered advice rather than the scraps of excitement and detriment from her Exo counterpart.

“Why don’t you give us a sample here?” She suggested. “Perform for us and we can offer a confident recommendation to anyone in need of a singer. Perhaps someone in the tower will take note of your talent should you prove to have it.”

It was an excellent idea! Kit couldn’t have thought of anything better although his nerves battled with excitement in a sickening whirl. Cayde thought this idea equally excellent and pulled their third member, the stern-faced Titan, along to the scene.

“Zavala! Join us. Young Kit here is going to give us a performance!”

“I’m busy.”

Despite his protest, the ranks of the vanguard trickled out from below the tower and into the clearing where Cayde placed Kit on a flower pot: his makeshift stage. Shaxx watched from the front row, arms crossed in serious contemplation and Tess stayed on the outskirts, curious, but not enough to completely abandone her stand. In the short time he was given, something romantic drew his heart to a song. When he sang, a crowd grew. Veterans and New Fish alike looked up as he sang of the color of love and its place in the eyes. When that was done, his soul yearned for energy and he sang about adventure and old cities. Above all, despite the rush of seeing a group stare, he loved that he could sing and love what left his mouth.

“Yeah!” Jumping out of his boots, Cayde-6 propelled into the air, fist-pumping and whooping as Kit held his final note longer and longer, finishing with a great swoop of his arms in the air. “That’s the stuff! Encore! Encore!”

“Cayde, please ,” laughed Ikora. She joined in the applause nonetheless and smiled when her young protege beamed at her.

“With pipes like that, you’re in. I’m not even in this band, but I say you’re in, kid!” 

Kit nodded his head as he buttoned up his jacket. It was so long ago now he hardly remembered a time the vanguard was full, the Traveler was near, and the Light was the only home in Sol. “I sang my heart out for them. Some people in the tower didn’t really give a shit, but a lot of ‘em came by to watch this New Fish belt his little heart out in the tower square. It was thrilling.”

One of the kids, a twenty-something year-old human with a gnarly tattoo running from her cheek down her arm broke any stereotype Kit could’ve given her with her first gleeful squeal. “Is that how you came to love performing?” She was a connoisseur of theatrics and found Kit’s performances dazzling, hence her band’s attentiveness to the next set’s performers.

“Well…” Kit looked to Ghost. “That was how people learned I sang. Performing became a way of survival for me for different reasons, but singing that day was when I knew I loved sound and the stories it told. Getting a gig here and there was easy from there on out thanks to Cayde.” Smoothing the ripple of his belt, Kit peeked through the curtains at the crowd bouncing outside. The New Lights listening looked up with sparkling eyes, gripping their instruments with white knuckles. “You’re only as good as your last performance, so keep that in mind, and play your heart out. It doesn’t matter if you’re perfect, just make sure it’s genuine.”

The guitarist, a scrawny silver exo, waved Kit down. “Check-in, dude!”

“Got it! Thanks for listening, guys, and hey, great job out there. Keep it up!”

Skipping off stage to mingle with the crowd, the New Lights left Kit alone with his part-time crew.

“Wow,” Ghost sighed. “Haven’t heard you talk about that in years .”

“Am I not supposed to?” Kit chuckled, spinning around to the stage mirror and checking his makeup before linking up with the drummer to talk through cues. “Yeah, when I say hit the lights, then you come in with the–”

“It’s just that the original didn’t have so much bullshit in it.”

”Hey! You gotta give the kids something to look up to.”

Ghost shook his shell, disappointed. “I can’t believe what you’ve become. What happened to the Kit I knew? The rockstar life has worn you down.”

“Ghost? Zip it, we’re on in five. And what rockstar life? I’ve always been like this.”

“Nope,” Ghost mumbled to himself. “You’ve never been this good.”

Stage-bound, Kit scanned the audience for a little tuft of white as he introduced their troupe with a sensual sing-song voice. Glittering silver and white gems, the band’s frontman used every smile and wink in the book to rally the crowd to their entrance and when he found the man he was looking for, he was ready to begin.

They were a rock band fit with guitar, bass, drums, and a singer whose voice was written in the stars. Kissing the air, Kit reached for the crowd and spun around to his bandmates. Cayde was right, someone found his voice perfect and he had fun. It took a while to get there, but with Gunsmoke Glitter, he was one step closer to what he wanted year after year. To sing.

“Hit the lights!”

Chapter Text

The martian winds of Mars whipped against thick glass and titanium. It was as if the elements, ever-fickle, decided their time to wreak havoc was right as the battle-worn ship touched down, making the short journey from landing pad to Braytech facility a hike through a natural disaster. Somehow through blistering winds was the sun, adding heat to the movement and slowly cooking everything within it. With an exo body, however, this caused only a slight discomfort. Sweat was nonexistent on false skin, the machinery beneath remained intact. It took a great deal of force to pry the door open against the heavy, pounding, gusts of sand.

As the door slammed shut, nearly catching the exo’s cloak, the deafening outdoors silenced. The facility was peaceful, the quiet hum of electricity buzzing from under the floor and within the walls. Heaving a sigh, the exo left her ghost to take care of the security protocols and climbed the stairs to her station. Just as she’d left, it was immaculate and messy and more like home than she realized. The scene was the same. No number of protocols or Guardians flitting about changed the fact that everything was frozen, like the Darkness lingered, slowly melting now that the Traveler was fighting back. It was like he was still there, waiting for a new score, a new word to learn… a new feeling.

No sense dwelling on the past. There were more important matters to attend to. Her fingers played the data pad with speed, tacking on codes and instructions without blinking. She remained frozen and typing, tapping away for over an hour before she stopped and began to transfer everything to her personal mobile equipment. “This is plenty,” she said to herself. Files emptied from their home and into her system and though none of it had any feeling, she couldn’t help but feel empty herself. “We should have those beacons reestablished in no time.”

It was silent in the facility, save for the Hive and their cursed goals of integration with the corpse of Rasputin. Her voice was a welcome sound, second only to the incessant tapping against the glass and before she knew it, another voice lit up the space.

“Found something in the dark again?” A voice hummed next to her, a woman’s voice, mechanical and rich, amused. “Wasn’t it always your desire to unravel dark mysteries?”

She hadn’t detected anyone else. It must have been quite some time that the tall exo, mysterious and shrouded, spent standing at the center of the room, watching her work. Either the security protocol was lacking or she was too focused to notice and she always noticed. “No more than it is yours to wade in it.” They shared a hug, a timid display of affection the two were still getting used to, her more than the other. Whatever happened to ‘hello’?”

The taller one chuckled. “Hello, sister.”

“I love to see you, I truly do, but my work is nowhere close to finished. So if you will...”

“What work?” The strange-looking exo took up a place leaning against the top step railing, arms crossed loosely as she regarded the woman hunched over the mangled data pad. Dark hair covered her eyes, eyes which focused on voracious lines of code, not the sound of Hive and Cabal clashing outside, not the concerning frown on her sister’s face, and not the wind rapping against the glass like a desert hurricane. “You don’t have to do this.”

“…”

“I’m serious. You brought him back once, and that in and of itself is a miracle, but Rasputin is gone now. We were there. His entire database, his memories, the feelings you taught him were deleted alongside that bastard—”

“I know,” she said. Her fingers had frozen. The topic was still so fresh… months later and it was like it was the end all over again. “I know,” she said again. “We were there. We could have done something. I could have kept a backup to prevent a total wipe. I could have convinced grandfather to—.” Mention of the late warmind broke her focus and for the first time in her life, she saw no clear path forward. She stared at the wires like maybe they would piece themselves back together and she could have a conversation…a real conversation again. Nothing like the niceties of the guardians wanting and taking without learning or offering anything in exchange. It was foreign territory out there. Once, she’d been the major contact for the Vanguard and Osiris and suddenly her source of joy was ripped from her fingers by the very man who created her.. “He was the only one I could talk to.”

“I’m here,” said the Exo. “Aren’t I?”

“It’s not—”

“Say it.”

“It’s not the same.”

“Like hell it is. He did so much to ruin us, saying it was for the benefit of all, making us believe that it wouldn’t throw our lives and the time between it all out of proportion, and after everything, we’re still here. What I don’t understand is why you want to spend your time in a carcass, poking the innards like they’ll start again. You’re smarter than that. You’re my brilliant, talented sister. Why not bring what he taught you to the outside world? Somewhere the sand doesn’t stick to your face or cut your skin?”

Her words impacted like led in one’s chest. “It’s not the same,” she said again, this time in a whisper; a reverence she’d never lose. The warmind was not just a machine. Hell, it could be argued that she and her sister were cut from the same cloth, but they were living, thinking beings… Rapsputin was undoubtedly the same. So for her sister to say she could do the same to something… anything else… “He was so much more than a program. He was designed to do Clovis’ bidding, and when the moment came for him to turn on us, he chose humanity…he chose us.” Her voice fell quiet. “He chose me.”

Knelt beside the wires the two watched the clouded window clear. The storm was settling and the sun beamed through the haze.

“He chose wisely,” the exo comforted, a tentative hand on her sister’s shoulder. “He knew that what you had to offer was worth so much more than what this facility had to offer. Rasputin loved you.”

Face to face, tear to dry eye, the two peered into each other, watching the click of the other’s eyes portray more than hope or grief, but an understanding. “I loved him too.”

Chapter Text

Captain’s Log – Stardate 5204

Abel and I are investigating a strange energy signal on a planet identified by the Cryptarchs as the Other Side of The Coin – Contra. It seems that while the inhabitants of this planet are few and ferocious, they exhibit a kind of Human history in the way they’ve taken to their territory and, more importantly, sharing it. There are a series of moons and smaller planets in near-collision with Contra, but I would describe this amalgamation as more of an orbit. They orbit so closely that they might as well be connected and it is clear how this has conjured conflict.

Regardless, there is much to do and the Hive do not wait. Their energy here is like breathing smoke. The fumes from their tithing is so palpable, I would not be surprised if it left a considerable breadth of influence across the land.

The speaker heaves an audible sigh, shuffling around what sounds like papers and the squeak of a chair.

I thought I’d gotten used to the feeling of the Hive a long time ago. It seems no matter how much exposure I endure, the twisting underneath my flesh never goes away. It’s tormenting. We try to understand these creatures, their sword logic, and they are ever vigilant in disturbing what little peace we have left.

There’s so much at stake. The Witness,  The Vex, The Nine…I’ve even seen spikes of lost civilizations out here… semblances of Warlords or at least the beginnings of them. It’s like they’ve started from ground zero just like the last heroes of Earth. I’ve tried to contact them in the midst of this ritual, but they are uncooperative, violent, and wholly unaware of this anomaly within their planet. They are too focused on each other and the little land they have to share. I wonder if they will form anything like the Vanguard when the time comes, or will they die out like the others? …Omit this from the record, Abel.

Transmission end.

Captain’s Log – Stardate 5214

I have never seen a ritual so large and so incredibly organized. Not a single Guardian on Earth can fathom the sheer size of this ritual, I– I am unsure if this is even Hive. It must be. Lest it be the forces of Xivu Arath and Savathun combined, Light forbid.. Oryx. There is still much to investigate. I don’t believe Efrideet knew what we were getting into here. I am also glad she did not send anyone else with me. There is no guarantee of return, not when the atmosphere of this planet is rising in toxicity.

I fear the planet is already too far gone and even if there is a way to stop the ritual, the effects will continue to take effect on the inhabitants.

Transmission end.

Captain’s Log – Stardate 5230

The speaker’s voice is haggard and rough. He sounds exhausted.

The locals are much too violent. I’ve done what I can to appease their interest, tap into their better nature, convince them that I am not a threat and am indeed there to help them, but to no avail. 

Transmission end.

Captain’s Log – Stardate…

I–I don’t know. I haven’t been keeping track and Abel’s numbers are over the place. She’s trying her hardest but it’s too much. Too long.

Sounds play in the device like static or screaming. The speaker is quiet and his words are hectic.

In lieu of my current situation, I cannot bring myself to choose silence over documentation, so I will make my entry brief. They’re everywhere. Everywhere. This is not an exaggeration. These pyramids are all over the place and they’re not going anywhere anytime soon. It’s hard to breathe. I haven’t tasted clean air in weeks and my air is running out. This is it for now. It will be a while before I can contact the Vanguard or Efrideet or anyone. 

I’ve never experienced a ritual this vile. If this is what the Hive intend to do with Sol, how will we ever survive?

Transmission end.

Captain’s Log – Stardate 5252

Abel, reporting from planet XI6-Pheliopia-Reginus, a nearby mini-planet otherwise known as Grethan. Our mission was a success. The Hive ritual on Contra was expelled and the artifact they used is now in our possession.

Guardian status is in the negatives. He reached critical condition with a capacity max overload and light shock drop. The virus is spreading faster the longer he remains unconscious. It has been three days since we landed, correction: crashed, on Grethan. Damage to the ship is significant and contaminated by Hive spores. I am slowly severing the roots from larvae and metal. It is tedious and slow work.

Log, I am worried. Palm has never been hurt this bad. If it weren’t for the Light, there is no doubt he would be dead by now. I don’t want to think about the results of that, but I must. I must think about what could happen to him should he be unable to neutralize SIVA myself. It was supposed to die with Rasputin, but it has shown signs of an early version. The same virus meant to hunt and destroy Iron Lord Felwinter and succeeded still is not satisfied. We are both very tired. I watch him wait for the end as if it is right behind him. I can’t let that happen.

What is on his person that would make SIVA active? We do not keep secrets. If there is something I do not know…There is nothing I do not know about my Guardian. He is my counterpart. We are one. There is nothing I don’t know.

I will continue my work. If he is to survive the night, I estimate his recovery to be about four days. He’ll be okay. We’ll be okay. Let me state for the record that we will not be taking any high-risk missions for the foreseeable future.

Transmission end.

Captain’s Log – Stardate 5257

We’re home. We stopped the ritual and still have the samples we collected when we first arrived. We’ve managed to hide from the locals as their Lord’s continue their ruin. It’s been a long time since I felt such dread, like the world wasn’t ready for what was coming, but we made it. I don’t know how she did it, but Abel brought me home. Bless the Light… Thank the Traveler… I… Abel?

Abel that is you, isn’t it? Abe–

The log cuts to static. No other sounds can be heard. The log ends abruptly.

Chapter Text

“Yer all in-fuckin-sane! Don’t touch me!”

To stand at the top of a great canyon at high noon was one thing. To linger there due to the cowardice of another person was another. The blistering sun dug into them, but no matter how much they coaxed or reasoned, nothing convinced The Drifter to finally take the leap.

He was yelling now; hadn’t been a minute ago when he was softly trying to trade spots so he could sneakily descend the canyon on his own. The poor man’s whimpers were now shouts of threat and panic and each and every syllable echoed from atop the plateau. Below was a bowl’s-width of water to catch him. He’d splatter on the pavement if he didn’t hit rocks going down. So much for the fearless Gambit-eer.

Kit was already regretting inviting him on this trip. Three days left and if he didn’t jump soon, they’d likely spend those days right there on that rock. Instead, he was stuck watching the Drifter shiver in his swim trunks. Sure, his words bit hard, but his knees rattled like maracas.

“You need to jump,” said Eris. She agreed to come on the condition they would moon-bathe frequently and practice her card readings on downtime. Kit delivered, as she knew he would, and her grin betrayed her as she teased the man on the stone. “Or are you afraid of getting wet, rat?”

Drifter hissed. “Listen, Moonpie, I’m doing my damndest out here. Besides, a little water ain’t nothing off a duck’s back, but what yer asking for is a miracle. I doubt you could even look down while on this sliver.” he spat, thrusting a finger at Kit. “I swear y’all’re gonna regret–”

“I can pull the stone out from under you right now,” Kit said, hand glowing with a threatening purple aura. It wouldn’t take much to shatter the floor where he stood.

“Woah! Don’t even think about it, brother. Don’t make me tell ya mommy yer disrespecting ya elders.”

Eris cocked her head to Kit. “Do it.”

“Hahahey now!  Don’t take his side! Let’s not get hasty! C’mon friend, I’m almost ready. Just gotta get the angle right.”

Kit and Eris lifted their brows. “Suuure…”

Their interrogation was cut short by a distant, and rapidly approaching, set of whoops and hollers. Before any of them could make out what was happening, a black and white smear streaked past the group, splitting either side of the Drifter. They hung in the air for several glorious seconds before plummeting to the reservoir below.

Jin dove head-first and sliced through the surface of the water with an acrobat’s grace. Crow, tumbling like a ball off the cliff, landed with a crash, splashing water several feet into the air. Drifter lost his balance, pushed forward from the sheer shock of it all, but instead of doing everyone the favor of getting on with it, he hung onto the edge of the cliff with his fingers. “Moondust! Oh… shit! Hey, c’mon, ya think this is funny? Playing with life for the thrill of it? Well, that does sound like something I’m into, but it ain’t gotta be like this!”

A chill ran up Kit’s spine when he peered at Eris and saw the most gleeful grin stretch across her face. Of all things to be amused by, it was this pathetic display? The sun must be getting to her. Gulping down his discomfort, Kit made his move onto the platform. “Alright, Drifter, that’s enough. It’s time to go.”

“Brother! Take pity on a poor, heartless vagabond once, won’t ya?” He was only halfway back up when Kit’s feet approached the edge of the rock. “That’s enough! Don’t come any closer! I-I’m w-warning you! D-don’t!”

Eris stopped the Warlock. His method wasn’t working. 

“Germaine,” Eris sighed. She crawled onto the ledge, pulling Kit back so she could share words with her sewer-dweller. “It’s a lake. You’ll be fine. I’ll make sure you’re okay.”

“Ya mean it, moondust?”

She nodded to the bottom where Jin and Crow were splashing around…Jin was holding Crow’s head underwater for quite a while before resurfacing in a frenzy and doing it all over again… it was probably nothing. 

“Of course,” she smiled, speaking with an Ikora-level of calm. She crouched to Drifter’s height. 

“W-why you grinning like that, Moondust?”

Eris planted two fingers at the center of his head…

“H-hey… m-moon–!”

…and pushed.

A small shove sent him tumbling. Often was the feeling Eris gave him, but to experience it in real time, her pale digit digging between his eyes like she was searching his brain with that freaky Hive magic, and the swirling vertigo watching his body fall back with nothing behind to catch him as she stood at-watch from above, set his heart racing in blissful panic. 

“Shiiii…..!”

He fell and ungracefully so–arms flailing and legs stretching and contracting like a mantis’. All the while, Eris watched from the top like the moon above Earth. It wasn’t until he reached the water that reality set in again.

Drifter hit the water bare-skinned and back-first. It was as if Shaxx abandoned his gloves for the full effect of a skin-on-skin slap. The sound echoed and Kit watched in horror as Eris, hidden by the height and carless to her witness, giggled. The sound was chilling. Kit had only heard her chuckle at the demise of the Hive once before. Down below, Drifter flailed, reaching for either of the two Hunters who swam just out of reach.

“Crazy! Fuckin! Guardians! I swear I’ll–!”

 Sputtering at the surface, cursing the troupe, he hardly noticed when Kit and Eris took their leap, floating in the sky, her hand clasped to his. Fear, dread, anger, revenge, it was all lost on biting envy as he watched the Warlock escort his moonbeam down with the utmost chivalry–just short of carrying her.

They were floating on air and he was soaked and grieving and…the greatest blessing was falling practically into his arms; the greatest reward for his cowardice.

Eris surfaced, hair plastered to her neck. “That wasn’t so bad, was it?”

Drifter’s back was kissed by the sun and high-velocity impact with the water, yet he couldn’t help but bite his tongue and answer Eris’s beaming smile with “It wasn’t so bad.”

“Would you do it again?”

“...yeah.”

Chapter Text

Your feet find purchase on a scraggly patch of rock. It holds you for now and you look to the sky, watching as a formation of planes rush by. The rock crumbles beneath you. Tumbling down the side of the mountain, smashing against rocks, you skid to a halt in the roots of a tree. The pain masks the sensation of loose dirt and pine needles caking your body

Left to the mercy of the roots, you watch a Ghost follow the trail of blood you left behind. It stuck around after it found you bleeding in the remnants of a ransacked caravan, but it did nothing but fly and fly and fly.

The Ghost squints at you. They scrutinize your injuries, the cuts and bruises across your face and limbs. Its gaze falls on your stump of an arm, oozing something yellow from the bloodied rag wrapped around it. Put to a guess, it was at least five days since you lost your arm and your way; three days before they found you half-conscious on the forest floor.

“Can you pretend to understand the meaning of “taking it easy”?” The Ghost, a pale pink shell smeared with something dark red and orange, scolds you.

Fly and bitch, you correct yourself.

Finding your voice, you crane your neck, feeling every ache as sound rattles your chapped lips. “If you’re as powerful as the stories say, carry us out. Teleport. Some...thing.”

“That’s not how it works.”

“Then go," you choke. "Get help… at least.”

“And risk my Traveler-given life? No. But I can’t leave you here alone. It harms my conscience.”

“Useless.”

“Careful who you insult, kid. I’m not afraid to hit a teenager.”

“Doesn’t matter anyway.” You grit your teeth and try to move. Your hands, cut and bloody from thorns and twigs, drag you from the roots. Dirt compacts under-nail as you search for level ground. It’s a pathetic-looking shimmy, but you manage to spot a ledge large enough to fit you and your dangling legs.

“Ghosts…” You sputter, catching your breath. “You can heal people… can’t you?”

“I can heal my Guardian.”

“But can you… can you heal me? Just the small stuff? Just for right now?”

“You’re not my Guardian.”

Your heart sinks. It might as well be at the foot of the mountain. For a Ghost to have such conditions... Why couldn’t they help if someone needed it? You’d always heard of how good Ghosts were, so why were you cursed with such a bad one? “Yeah… ‘cuz that’s what matters.”

The sun is setting and you feel weaker than ever, but the ledge is within reach. With a great breath, you steel yourself, squeeze your eyes shut, and use what strength you have to reach for the rock. It was too late when you realized, you missed the rock, disrupted the dirt, and were now tumbling down cliffside.

Crashing knocks the wind out of you. Your ribs burn and you gasp for any bit of air you can get. Still, the Ghost follows, complaining about your fortitude or your refusal to sit and rest.

You can’t look at it. “Go away,” you groan. You don’t want to give it the morbid satisfaction of seeing you cry, but it’s impossible to stop. “Just go away.”

“I’m not going anywhere.”

“Go–-ah!” Stomach in knots, lungs crushed, you yearn for air, water... the only things Ghosts didn't need, the only things this one wouldn't provide. Water's nowhere. Food is a fairy-tale. Ghosts are demons. Several delirious moments pass as you mindlessly crawl as much as you can manage. Maybe a couple inches. Who’s counting?

“I didn’t think you’d fight so hard,” the Ghost said.

You can't make sense of anything. Only enough to force your body forward.

Forward. Right. That’s what they said when the Cabal invaded and destroyed your home. That’s what they said when you had to evacuate the Farm. That’s what they said when your family got separated from the caravan in a blizzard. That’s what they said when you lost your arm pulling a Fallen off your mother who couldn’t have been any more dead.

Forward. Forward was your sibling using the last of their strength to wrap your stump of an arm. Forward was waking to a Ghost-a holy creature from the stories. Stories at dinner and before bed, at the fire and in the morning. Stories of hope and power and justice. Stories about the little machines floating next to those tall soldiers they said to stay away from.

Forward was realizing that the tales were wrong. Ghosts weren’t mystical or all-powerful or even helpful. They couldn’t bring your arm back or any of your family or stop your stomach from caving in. You had to keep going forward. You didn't lose everything to stop now. At least get to the bottom… at least.

You brace against the ground to try and stop the spinning, heaving, unable to sob. Fractured bone pierces your flesh with every flinch. Blood seeps through your clothes, onto your skin. It’s euphoric. As you look down the mountainside, blood pounds like drums in your ears. It deafens the unbearable hunger. And thirst… god, what you would give to taste rain right now, or feel saliva on your tongue. The blood swirls. You can stay up anymore. You’re falling. Gravity takes you. You can’t feel the spines or the poison ivy or the mosquitos. Just the fall.

The Ghost races after you. They can’t help.

No. They don’t help.

Your body plummets, breaking the treeline, and crashing into a deep basin of water. Finally you sink into something soft. It doesn’t matter that you’re too exhausted to kick at the weeds dragging you down. They're so soft. You made it to the bottom of the mountain. You can rest.

But not until you see one last glance of the Ghost breaking through the water to watch. Even at the bottom of a lake, they do nothing. You're not their guardian. You're not worth saving.

Micah’s party passed the quiet brush on the outskirts of the EDZ. Few stopping points remained in this wilderness, but if a Ghost insisted they felt the pull, she'd guide them there.

The trees stopped at a thin shoreline. This was the place. Dark water with the strongest pull.

"There," a Ghost exclaimed, motioning toward the furthest bank.

Far below the surface, she felt it, the divine connection between a Ghost and their Guardian. She dove in and found your bones entangled in watery vines.

You awoke choking on algae and water, kicking and fighting the depths. In a moment, your body buoyed and you were sputtering sand and grass on the side of the basin. The sunlight bears down on you and when your eyes open, you see your bare skin, the stump of the arm you once had, and a Ghost.

You stare at it's white eye while it flips with excitement, rambling about being her “chosen”. Her Guardian. And you wonder who she could possibly be talking to.

Micah-10 approached, helping you to your feet. “It’s okay, now. You’re found and your Ghost is with you. Take care of each other and should you need anything, your Ghost will know where to find me. Head to the Tower, Guardian.”

Guardian.

You’re alone with a Ghost. This devil. It nods to you, rambling something about how happy it is, how long it’s looked, how far it travelled. You look at the space where your left arm was supposed to be.

You hear your voice again for the first time in ages. “Ghosts… can heal people, right?”

“Of course I can heal you. You’re my Guardian!”

“Can you give me back my arm?”

“I--I can’t do that, I’m sorry.’

“You can’t give anything back to me?”

“I can heal you back to where you were at your peak and I can revive you when you die. I–”

“Useless,” you mutter. “Useless.”

Chapter Text

A long, exhausting night, no matter how bad his hangover, couldn’t stop Kit from completing his morning routine. Bleary-eyed from a day-drinking stint with his beau, Kit shuffled from bed, creaking across wooden floorboards to the nearest door. In the bathroom, he brushed his hair and teeth vigorously, combatting the stale build-up of whiskey in his mouth, though he could’ve sworn vodka had been his poison. When he went to spit, the sink seemed deeper than normal, but it wasn’t unheard of to misinterpret things for a little while the morning after.

For a few moments, Kit leaned against the sink and took deep, meditated breaths before contemplating himself in the vanity, looking forward to the evidence of their night in around his neck. One blink, two blinks, three… Kit’s eyes cleared like a spell had lifted and in the mirror was a face not his own. Another blink, rubbing his eyes, and still the face of a stranger stared back at him.

A dream? Kit cocked his head in the reflection, feeling the puffy skin under this person’s eyes and the wiry black hair poking out of their scalp. Their nose was pierced with a rusty piece of metal and he now resembled something like a pirate from old folk tales. It was amusing, but he’d tell Jin all about this when he woke up, and it was time to go. So Kit found a tender place between his jaw and neck and pinched as hard as he could.

“Fuck!” He exclaimed with a jump. Hissing through his teeth, he looked at the welt forming on this person’s jaw.

Panic set in as the pain radiated from his jaw to his face. Back against the wall, knocking over a broken picture frame, Kit finally realized that the bathroom he was in was nowhere he’d ever been before. Where was he? Where was Jin? Was Ghost safe? Plenty of terrors plagued him in the night. It was an easy enough task to put them at bay, but this felt so much more real… so much worse and dreadful than anything he’d ever known. Slamming his eyes shut, he set to calming his heart, breathing, thinking back to the moments before sleep so he could wake up and laugh it off and tell Jin all about it in just a couple moments…

At the peak of his peace, Kit opened his eyes and nearly screamed. The reflection hadn’t changed. It was clearer than ever. Kit examined the contortions of his new face in horror. He never imagined possessing a visage as haunting as this. His eyes were faded and gray and his cheek seemed to bubble like a chemical burn all the way down the neck. And from then on… his body was wrong. A short, feminine frame hid behind layers of clothes and robes that couldn’t be removed.

“Professor!” A voice called from beyond.

Inside, Kit shuddered, but his feet led him straight out of the bathroom to the face of a thick stone door connected to the main room. A thin crack of light streamed in as the door opened and another unrecognizable person entered. A brute of a person. A Cabal in city clothes. This wasn’t just any Cabal either, a warrior, but who for? What was he doing here in a place like this? The ceilings weren’t high enough, the atmosphere grand enough. It was more like they were in the guts of a cellar.

And from the looks of it, Kit, a human woman, was now in a dark place where the very thought of the outside seemed muffled and distant. The Cabal spoke to him, inquiring about their stock and course.

“It has not been easy since the Chosen left. Your great creation gathered the most supplies. Guardians are more cunning than ever since the Darkness encroached.”

Kit couldn’t understand what the Cabal was implying, but he felt sick and somewhat giddy.

“The Red War was the best time for business,” the Cabal continued, shaking his head. “If the Traveler lost its power again, our profits wouldn’t be an issue.”

“It’s an unreliable guesstimate,” Kit found himself saying naturally. If what they meant had something to do with lightless Guardians, Kit didn’t want to know where he was.

“If you’ll get to the office, Professor, he is waiting to see your newest sample.”

Who? Sample? Without much choice in the matter, Kit took the lead, blindly following scuffs on the floor, leading to a long hallway. At one point, he stopped and turned, but the warrior behind him grunted.

“What?”

“Just a little tipsy,” Kit said with the woman’s unfamiliar voice.

“You and your alcohol,” grumbled the Cabal.

Together they continued further down a long hall. As they passed the occasional open door, Kit glanced and took note of the structure. It seemed to be the underbelly of some contraption. Where? It wasn’t the Leviathan. Kit could recognize it by smell alone if he had to, so what was this? And why did it gnaw at such a deep place in him the closer he got to the door at the end of the hall?

Everything in Kit screamed to avoid that door. Clearly his destination, he tried once to steer their course away, but as he took a step to the left, the Cabal was at the door, holding it open. From the sounds of it, ten or twenty people were inside, and like all the pathways in the area, the place remained dimly lit. From beyond the muffled voice, the hum of machinery buzzed all around them.

“Here, ma’am.”

Below them in a giant vat of bubbling purple liquid were the tell-tale protrusions of Ghosts in all different colors, blanched white from heat and tempering. Strewn about the floor were Guardians either dead or on the brink.

A jolt of panic ran through Kit’s body though he tried hard not to let it show. No… this wasn’t the Leviathan, but the smell… the sight of it… it was all too familiar. On the table overlooking the scene was a file. Kit’s hand absentmindedly touched the cover. It was an ordinary file, but the face on the outside filled him with dread. Yellowed and ragged was a photograph of himself… the face of the Leviathan’s Minotaur, Calus’ Chosen, a dreaded consort of the Emperor, pinned to the front page.

Despite the terror, his hands opened the file with shocking certainty. His name, his information, his lovers, his home–everything was there in black and white. Black lines peeled away to reveal the rotten truth of his time on the Leviathan and The Tangled Shore, but that wasn’t all. Further inside yielded a new name with a picture and details about their life. Then another one. And another one. And another… The file, he realized, was thick, filled with names and secrets. And then came the Ghosts… Picture upon picture. File upon file.

Dread, the deepest he’d ever known accompanied an inherent comprehension of who these people were. Before him, uncensored and clear like a magnifying glass, were the names and faces of each and every Guardian and Ghost he ever killed. In cold blood or otherwise, his ledger was dripping. They were all right there, unearthed from their metaphysical graves, taunting him.

The Cabal shut the file and the crude-cut picture of Kit’s face stared into him, mocking, laughing, reaching into his host body like it was trying to drag him out.

And that’s just what it did. Kit fell into the picture like a star falling into a black hole, but before he lost consciousness, the glimmer of something affixed to the death file caught his attention. A gem. A device unlike anything he’d seen before, yet, he knew exactly what it was… where it was inside him… what it made him… and who it was he shared a body with.

Before he could do anything else, he was through the picture and woke on the other side In his bed, home in the Last City. Sweat poured down his face as Kit ran to the other side of the room and braced himself against the wall. It was real. It felt real. But he was alone. It could be another dream.

“Ghost?” he called. “Jin?” He ran from the room, through the living room, ripping the front door open as he stumbled outside into blinding light. He was in his own body, he was at home on Earth, and he was half naked in front of his neighbors.

Ms.Trina rushed over from a group of elderly, waving her hands. “Dearie! You look as pale as a ghost! What’s the matter?”

“I… I wasn’t—M-ms. Trina…”

“Let’s get you inside, hun, your gardener just left.”

“My–?”

Escorted inside, Ms. Trina sat him down on the sofa, unfolded one of the blankets draped on the head rest that she so proudly had made as a Dawning gift, and covered him. “He was in quite the rush. I’m sure he’ll be back soo–”

“Kit!” The Hunter all but dropped the little bag of medicine and tools at the front door to fall into Kit’s arms, holding him tight.

“Jin!” Finally, something right, something good. This wasn’t a dream.

“Are you okay? You went so still, like you died. I didn’t know what else to do. I got some medical supplies.”

“I had a nightmare about—” Kit looked at Ms. Trina and stopped.

She nodded, acknowledging her finale in this escapade. “It’s alright, son. You take care of him and don’t let him out of your sight.” With a pat to Jin’s back, she left, closing the door behind her and Kit dove back into Jin’s embrace.

“It was awful, Jin. I was awake. I know I was awake, but... I was somewhere else. I saw… Ghosts… and people… and…” He hesitated. Jin knew of his past, but seeing it, holding the casualties in his hands was unimaginable. “There was a file… it had…” Kit’s throat closed as the thought of admitting something so heinous a second time hit him like a brick. “Had…”

“It’s okay,” Jin shushed him. “Breathe.”

“Where…where’s Ghost?”

“Kit, you–” Jin grimaced, biting his tongue. Lying to Kit wasn’t something he did, but to consider keeping it from him for even a moment made Kit’s blood run cold.

“What did I do? Did I hurt him? What happened? I need to see him.” He tried to stand, but Jin kept a solid hold.

“He’s here, but he needs a minute. Before you went out, you snapped his shell. Bad. He’s shaken up.”

“Oh my god. Where is he? Oh my god, I need to make sure he’s okay. Ghost!”

“He’s in the bathroom, just breathe, babe, breathe.”

Kit broke through his Hunter’s grasp and lunged for the bathroom door, rushing in to find his Ghost, or what remained of it, lying on a pile of towels in the bathtub. He seemed to sleep or shudder.

“Kit…” Ghost blinked weakly at his Guardian. A flash of fear crossed his face before he recognized the Warlock for who he was.

Knelt over the lip of the tub, Kit reached for his Ghost. “I’m so sorry, Ghost. It wasn’t me. I would never…” His fingers nearly brushed the surface of his shell when he was jolted away by a protective barrier of Strand. Of all the things they’d been through, this contended for the worst.

“Sorry,” said Jin, sensing his Warlock’s despair. “I put it around him once I realized what you were doing. We agreed to keep it up until he’s ready.”

“I almost killed him?” Kit sobbed against the edge of the tub, face shoved into the bends of his arms. “He was going to end up in that file. It—It had every face… every Guardian… every Ghost I… everyone I…murdered.”

“Kit, breathe, it’s okay. It’s over now.”

“I’m a murderer!”

Jin wanted to deny it, tell him otherwise and comfort him, but they couldn’t lie to each other like that.

“I murdered those people… I killed their Ghosts… they’re being melted down into something else… all because of me.”

“No, Kit,” Ghost spoke, weak and guilt-ridden. If this was happening, he had to say it now. If Kit saw who he thought he saw, he had to know. “It’s because of me.”

“What do you mean by that?” Asked Jin.

“I-I’m the one to blame for everything,” Ghost explained slowly, quietly, like this confession was for the wind rather than Kit.

“When they locked me up, separated from you, I did everything I could to negotiate. I begged them to look at you. You were special. You were broken enough to do anything they wanted and you deserved to live while other Guardians died.

“Calus was interested in you, so he kept me alive and shackled to keep you in line. While you performed your duties, I conspired with the scientists in the belly of the Leviathan to try and find a chink in the armor, a way to get us out in one piece. We both had to do terrible things to survive. They promised opulence for your desperation, your misery, your descent, your anger.

“With my help, Calus’ scientists designed a protein that would latch onto your DNA and activate when your emotions reached critical max. To you, it would feel like dying, like you lost everything or craved vengeance, but for the protein, it was everything. It’s what made you the Minotaur.”

“Are you seriously expecting me to believe that you’re behind this? Ghost, you’re not making any sense—”

“You… ingested it at one of Calus’ banquets. The first time the Cabal let me off-leash, he drank with you beside the stars. I know you remember. They didn’t need me to control you anymore after that. The person in your dream, the person who broke me… that had to have been her, the scientist.”

Kit sat, unable to process what Ghost was saying as an invisible weight glued him to the ground. Confusion raced through him, picking out pieces of memory to a time before it all went so horribly wrong at the mouth of that space gargantuan.

“It could’ve been anybody, Kit. I convinced them you were the perfect candidate and it worked. We survived. We got out. You got through it all even if others suffered. I—I’d do anything for you, Kit.

If what Ghost said was true, then that gem on the file meant only one thing. They were going to make more. Kit shuddered.

“If you’re a murderer, Kit, then I am too.”

Chapter Text

Babysitting in the Last City was a bit of a lost art when it came to Guardians. Children in general were somewhat of another world, but for Kit, it was second nature to play and terrorize the children of the Tower. When the Eliksni arrived, he became fond of their children too, facilitated by Eido’s kind introduction to the clutch, Kit became a welcome sight. What he didn’t realize until too late, however, is how magnetic he truly was. Ms. Trina’s daughter was in need of a break, and with a little one, it was much easier said than done.

When Kit offered to take Ms. Trina’s grandbaby off her hands for the evening, it was hardly a question. Ms. Trina saddled him up with all the necessities and Kit took care of the most important part: costumes. This was The Festival of the Lost, after all, and it was tradition to take the children of the Last City around and loot their haul of candy and treats.

Little Sarah was a plump pumpkin with her hair tucked into a stemmed hat and face painted with black triangles around her big green eyes. She was the envy of the Eliksni Quarter that night. Hanging onto Kit’s fingers, she followed him as they made their rounds and filled half a bucket with treats made by the Eliksni parents.

Fate would have it that an Eliksni child caused such a fuss about the pumpkin being led by the black cat that Kit offered to take that child with him as well. The parents seemed iffy at first, but it quickly turned to relief when their baby crawled up onto Kit’s shoulders and played with his cat ears in a fit of laughter. With a promise to return before midnight, Kit was off to hit up the Last City itself and get Sarah and Yurikses the candy they deserved.

“What? Oh my–hahah!” Jin slapped his thighs. Kit arrived over encumbered by the children strapped tightly to his chest and back. One, the likeness of a pumpkin, and the other a four-armed specter in a white sheet. “Found yourself between a pumpkin and a hard place, huh,” he said.

“They’re not mine!” Groaning, Kit found a bench to rest on and let the kids down on the ground.  “Ms. Trina’s daughter had the opportunity to go out on the town, but with the little one, it would’ve made things difficult, so I offered to babysit. She’s always so well-behaved, but this one,” said Kit, throwing his head toward the four-armed bundle chasing Sarah around the bench. “Yurikses is a stowaway. Practically screamed her way out of the Eliksni Quarter until I brought her with me.”

“Aw, Sarah,” Jin cooed when she ran up to him, begging to be picked up. He bounced her lightly, pinching at the chub of her cheeks. “Very cute. We could keep them.”

“Keep them?” Kit’s head swam, trying to grasp the logistics of suddenly sharing his time with Jin with two children. Of course, as with all things, Kit took the suggestion much too seriously. “Jin, we’re not keeping them.”

“Have you ever thought about it?”

“About what?”

“Having kids?”

Sputtering, Kit’s face flushed red and he quickly covered Sarah’s ears. “We shouldn’t talk about that in front of them.”

“Not that. You’re great with children and you look good as a dad.”

“You don’t mean that.”

“I do.”

“You’re the one who’s father-material. I’m more like the fun uncle who shows up every weekend in a hot new corvette and then leaves with his sexy boyfriend nobody knows anything about until he’s brought to Christmas and announces they’re engaged.”

“You want to get engaged?”

“I’m just saying. I don’t want them to miss out on trick or treat, so we shouldn’t linger too long.”

“You’re dodging my question.” That was alright. He’d ask again later. “Here, I’ll watch one,” he said, taking Yurikses by a hand. “And you take the other. Look at that, we’re a big, happy family out on the town.”

“You make it sound lovely.” Kit blushed.

“Because it is,” retorted Jin.

Situated with the little ones, the two started walking in the direction of the most popular street in town. Kit felt a wave of adoration wash over him as he watched the way Jin naturally balanced and rocked and smiled whenever the children wanted to be picked up or walk on their own. Jin noticed the Warlock’s eyes burning into him and smirked. “What?”

“Nothing. You’re a natural. I’m envious.”

“I had a lot of practice,” said Jin, leaning in for a kiss. “And I’d carry you too if my hands weren’t full.”

The street was a whirlwind of kids in groups, parents with their infants, and Guardians dressed like monsters and fairies and all manner of creatures in search of a sweet treat. Those who weren’t out hunting Headless Ones were here, gathering their load of the goodies people made for the occasion. Compared to the couple of compliments on Kit’s black cat costume and Jin’s dog ears, Sarah and Yurikses were drenched in praise almost as much as their buckets were full of candy, and before they could count the time, they had gone through the long alleyway front to back and were on their way out to the last outskirt houses of the city before turning in at home to count their haul.

They walked quietly for a moment, shielding the children from the wind chill until they arrived at the first house. It seemed normal enough, lights on, door decorated, and on the stoop, a lone bucket. Kit smiled and urged Sarah with a little push on her back to grab her fill and come back.

That night had been lively, fun, but when they left this house, something felt off. Kit turned around multiple times on their walk to the next house a couple streets down, and when he turned the third time, he elected to carry Sarah in his arms.

Jin noticed, but Yurikses was happy to skip around his feet, playing a game of seeing how close he had to be to trip the Hunter before it actually happened. “You good?”

“It feels like someone’s following us.”

“It might just be your imagination. The Festival of the Lost is spooky every year.”

“...maybe.”

They stopped at another house, took their candy and kept going. Kit snuck a piece from Sarah’s bag and popped it into his mouth before she could see and Jin shook his head.

It was the final stretch, a long strip of road that led to a line of spread-out houses on the outskirts of the city. The sun trickled past the horizon, plunging them into darkness and the third home was just as dark on the inside. The front was barren save for a single green light poking through a slit at the top of the entryway. This was no place for a kid and yet Jin was fine walking straight up to it.

“What are you doing?” hissed Kit.

“Going up to knock on the door. What does it look like I’m doing?”

“Doesn’t it seem a little too scary for the kids?”

“Pfft, I’m sure they’ve seen scarier things than the front of a quiet house.”

“I don’t know, Jin. I get a really weird vibe.”

“It’s fine. Baby, come here.” Jin nodded to the spot at his feet and Kit reluctantly followed along. The Hunter took Kit’s chin and kissed him slowly, allowing their skin to melt together before pulling them apart. Sarah squeezed her eyes shut as her new Eliksni friend giggled. “You’re a Warlock. If anything happens, I know you’ll do everything to protect these children. And I would do anything to protect you. Understand?”

“Mmm…” Kit was still floating from their kiss and nodded obediently.

“Now go knock on the door.”

“Okay.”

Kit approached the house. It was even darker up close. The green light made his stomach churn and the silence in the doorway ate at his guts. Hesitantly, he lifted a fist and knocked on the door. Expecting something to pop out at him, he recoiled immediately after, holding little Sarah’s head to his chest, but nothing came. For a few solid seconds, the knock echoed inside and out and the house returned to silence.

“No candy is better than bad candy,” Kit sighed. “Okay, let’s go home and count everything we–” Behind him, something else had changed. Jin and Yurikses were gone, vanished, nowhere to be seen, and this frightened Kit more than any creepy house. “Jin? Jin!”

Kit ran down the steps to where they last were and couldn’t find any prints. That didn’t mean the Hunter couldn’t have pulled a prank by jumping away, or using strand to climb up onto the roof, or using void to turn invisible. “Jin,” he said sternly. “This isn’t funny.”

Still, nothing. Kit dropped the bag of candy in favor of a small point of void energy amassing in his palm. He wouldn’t be caught off guard. They circled around the house, slowly stepping across dead grass and leaves. Several instances caused Kit to look back, like someone was hot on their trail and carefully covering their steps. “I swear, if you’re fu–messing with me right now.”

Once around the house yielded nothing, twice was the same, and there was no use doing a third. There were no places to hide, no distance down either stretch of road that Kit couldn’t see,  so where had they gone? At last, Kit looked back at the green-lit doorway and noticed a detail that sent shivers up his spine.

The door hung ajar, dead still, like it was frozen open forever. The blackest night permeated from inside that house. On high-alert, Kit approached the stoop, one trepid foot in front of the other, inching closer to the light. With Sarah tucked tight to him, he reached for the handle, shaking as a miasma of dread pooled into his diaphragm with every bated breath.

Just as his fingers touched the knob, Sarah burst into a wail, kicking her legs and sobbing loudly. “Where did you go!” Sarah seemed just as confused and shocked that her white-haired uncle disappeared out of the blue and when Kit whipped around, Jin and Yurikses were right where they left them.

“Are you going to knock on the door yet?” 

“What?”

Kit looked back. His fist hovered over the door, about to knock, and the door was closed. Pulling away, he backtracked to the sidewalk. “Screw that. We’re leaving right now,” he rasped.

“It’s not that scary. Here, let me–”

“We’re leaving. Right. Now.” Kit strode onward, beelining his way toward their slice of the Last City where he knew it would be alight with jack-o-lanterns and decorations and all the things that made the Festival fun.

Jin caught up at a jog, struggling to keep up with Kit’s long strides. Kit and Sarah were on a mission and that didn’t include Jin or the child on his hip who was happily smacking away at a lollipop. “Babe? Are you okay? Hey, Kit. Kit, stop for a second.” 

“It feels like something’s been following us all night, that house was fucking weird, I don’t know where you went or where we went, but it’s seriously messed up, and it’s time to go home. Sorry,” he apologized for swearing.

“I didn’t realize it got you so shaken up. Let’s go home and just enjoy the rest of the night with the kids. I’ll make hot cocoa and we’ll do something fun before bedtime,” he said mostly to Yurikses, staring wide-eyed at him.

Kit turned around one last time to see if something was really following them and when he saw a ghostly pale flash duck into a bush, his heart seized and they ran. “It’s a race!” He lied. “First one home gets everyone else’s candy!”

Chapter Text

Dear Kit,

I’ve rewritten this stupid letter maybe a hundred times by now. Damn thing. Every time I start, it feels like I’ve dived too far beneath the waves by the time I reach the center and then I have to stop and start all over again. I got this perfectionism from you. Your letters to Ikora are always immaculate, filled to the brim with love and wisdom and well-wishes. I don’t know how you do it. I don’t know how you have the energy to squeeze every drop out of your heart and give it to another person, and multiple times a year, a month, a day! You write this beautiful prose to me every year, but I can only manage a couple thanks in response. I wish I had more to give. Sure there’s the whole eternal life in the Traveler’s Light thing., but there should be more, and I think I can finally do it.

I need to be honest. That’s the best place to start. I never thought I would ever talk to you about this, but of all the time we’ve been together, I think you’re the most well-equipped to handle it now than ever. I resent you. I resent our time on the Leviathan. I resent how easily you opened to Uldren’s charms. I resent how you never once tried to rescue me from the Den. I resent that it took Mark to make you see you could be free. I resent that you couldn’t feel that way with me. Angry doesn’t begin to describe what I’ve felt. Your inconsideration hits like betrayal. I’ve always been there for you. I’ve always done what I can to bargain for your wellbeing, to make you an attractive asset, to keep you out of danger. I did it. I did it all for you. And somehow, no matter how much I resent the things you did didn’t do, I can’t fault you. You’re a man now, but you were a child then. You had no idea how cruel the world could be to people with as much potential as you. You took the power I gave freely and it made you confident. If anyone is at fault, it’s me for not leading you better.

I hate myself for turning you into this flippant warlock who feels like he has to rely on other people for his happiness. I hate that you aren’t satisfied with me alone. I hate when you leave me at home to traipse into some no-name’s arms and come back crying, expecting me to pick you up because I do Every. Single. Time. I hate when I go with you and see just what you put yourself through. I hate seeing you hurt yourself. I hate seeing you cry. I hate seeing you laugh when you’re in so much pain.

Ghost rested on the windowsill. Kit set up a cozy nook before the first snow. A handmade cushion, fashionable curtains, string lights, small candles, and a perfect view of the city from the snow-framed window. Kit was outside shoveling pavement in his long peacoat, scarf, and mittens. Ms. Trina and Mr. Bloomingdale chatted in delight as Kit worked fast to clear their walkways. They had a good life there, living like it was the Golden Age with its three meals a day, dinner parties, and spousal kisses good morning and good night. Adventure was, for the first time, a far off memory Ghost was pleased to leave behind. On a day like today, when the sun set faster than anything, tinging the cloudy white sky a magnificent blue as the sun set, he forgot about how ravenously the past chased them. His guardian was always a magnet for destruction. Whether to himself or others, his strokes of luck were evened out by strings of misfortune.

Ghost took to etching his letter out on thick pieces of parchment, handmade paper Kit bought for him at a local holiday market in the city, and used ink affected with black specks in the heat. Letter-writing was a lost art, but Kit thought otherwise. It was a gift, a physical object and a collection of words that spelled the shape of his heart. To him, they were just as important as the sun rising and Kit was always the sun… Ghost’s mechanical effects simulated a rumbling deep in his shell. Not-quite butterflies. And when he watched Kit exchange smiles with the neighbors, leaning casually on the shovel, Ghost’s light softened. He had more to say than he thought.

Do you ever think about what life will be like when I’m not here? If I’m gone? Sometimes I imagine how lost you’d be without me, like the old days, and how much more real living would all be when the Light leaves us. Maybe you’ll grow old alongside your great love. Maybe you’ll live forever like the other Ghost-less Guardians, but sometimes I wonder if it’s going to be good for you to be alone without me. You were always the most fierce when you were betrayed…

It took a lot to get to this point, don’t let my musings about mortality scare you. I just think it’s something to think about and be thankful for all the time we have together. The other Ghosts thought I was… eccentric. When I met you, I realized how wrong they were.

I’m happy where we are now. To be honest, I was starting to lose faith. But I know that if we met our demise, I could never blame you. I did and will do whatever I can to protect you, even if that means letting you figure it out on your own sometimes. It would be my fault for letting you down, letting the Light, The Traveler, let you down. I couldn’t live with myself if that happened, so you better be ready to rest right alongside me if shit goes sideways.

I try to say it more often… it used to be so difficult to express because I had this feeling like you wouldn’t take it seriously, or that you wouldn’t appreciate it the way you do now, but… I love you, Kit. And not the way that those people do when they finally get their way with you, not the way Jin says it, not the way Ikora says it. My way. I love you. You’re always going to be my Guardian and I’ll always be your Ghost. It’s not often you find a connection like that, but I think we had our chances pretty well made, you and I. And I’d go through all of it all over again if it meant I got to be here with you, watching the snow fall, in a house like the movies, with a family, and friends. You’ll always be my Guardian, Kit.

Happiest Holidays,

Ghost

Chapter Text

The Tower all but burst at the seams with Guardians rushing to deliver cookies and other sweets to worthy vendors, Shaxx and other main attractions. Even beneath the general hub of the top floor, groups of young lightbearers left giggling from the Gambit-Master’s hole-in-the-wall.

The Drifter was sharpening a knife on a ragged slag of black stone when he looked up from his humble stash of treats–which he went through the necessary trouble of setting up a side table for–and blinked at the magnanimous presence that strolled in. “Well, well, well,” he slurred, sliding the knife into his sheath. “The great Ikora Rey enters my workshop for…what is this? The first time? I must be one lucky fella. What can I do ya for?”

Ikora took in the dank underdark of Drifter’s lair with something between a scowl and grin, ducking her head to miss the hanging hazards. Behind her, followed Eris Morn, looking less-than-pleased to be there, or maybe she was neutral. It was always hard to tell. It was at the sight of her that The Drifter pulled his shoulders up from their adopted slouch.

Ikora started, her voice matter-of-fact. “We need your help.”

“My help? Well now, I never thought the day would come.”

“Ikora,” Eris hissed. “Kadi is better equipped to handle this. Coming here was a mistake.”

“Nonsense. Kadi is hard at work. We need opposable thumbs and the semblance of a brain.”

“Great!” Drifter clapped his hands together. “Cuz I got both o’ those in spades.”

Ikora’s hand on her shoulder was the only thing keeping Eris from walking away. “We need all hands on deck.”

“I happen to have a good sense of hands and decks, ma’am.” Drifter grinned. Eris scowled. It was all he could do not to play into it further and watch her blow her lid.

“A semblance, Ikora,” Eris spat. “I don’t believe we’ve found such a treasure yet.”

A couple of hushed whispers later, Ikora turned to the man with a diabolical grin. “You’re about to see the light of day, Drifter. Make your way to the tower floor in the next half-hour.” Hands clasped behind her and Eris trailing her heels, the two made their way out as quickly as they’d come in. Ikora turned in the doorway, her eyes as sharp as the void itself. “Don’t disappoint me.”

And for some reason, as Ikora left, that was the last thing Drifter wanted to do.

….

Kit walked through the tower in semi-disguise. A thick winter coat hugged him tight and his long hair was braided and twisted into a bun held by a long, thin sword, likely a real blade in a real sheath. The place was amid Dawning setup. A little late this year, he noted. Everything at home was ready to go from tinsel to trees lit to hell and the pieces of a gingerbread Traveler drying on the table, waiting to be put together. What he didn’t realize until he passed a group of workers was that one seemed eerily familiar, dressed in green and the greasiest pelt he’d ever had the misfortune of seeing.

“Drifter?”

The Gambit Master’s face popped up from a pile of drapery and ornaments with annoyed shock. “Oh brother, it’s you.”

The Warlock hardly held his grin as he crouched down. “Wow, what a double take. It really is you. You’re on the floor in the cheeriest pile of shit I’ve ever seen. A real upgrade from your sinkhole downstairs. I should get a picture.”

“You do one good thing for the Vanguard…” Drifter grumbled.

“This has Ikora Rey written alllll over it, my friend.”

“So we’re friends now? Is that why you haven't stopped by to try out my new Gambit? Kill a few Vex, eat a couple Hive? What’s up with that, brother? Ol’ Moondust herself hardly has the time to take a peep. Y’all are forgettin about me. Wise, and probably for the best, but damn… friends.”

“I’ve been busy,” said Kit, opting to sit on the ground and sort out what fabric he could. He always was a helper. “Been a rough year… and… also probably the best year of my life.” A crooked grin spread across Kit’s face as he reminisced on the events of the last couple weeks.

Drifter faux-gagged. “Keep it business-only, please.”

“Remember The Concordat?”

“How could I forget?”

“I beheaded the fucker…”

That gave the Drifter something to gasp about, a genuine reaction for the first time that day besides lamenting the decor work. “No way! I knew you killed a god or two, but going after a guy like Ly-fucking-sander. That’s nuts, man.”

“Well… he had something I wanted.”

“I’m sure.”

“Got suspended, so I’m scrounging for materials to make gifts this year.”

“Oh yeah? How ‘bout you take care of this for me? I’ll make it worth your while.”

Kit considered the pile and scoffed. “Listen, man. Ikora’s pissed at me as is, like, for real this time. Whatever she’s got on you, you better just do it ‘cus, trust me, she isn’t in the mood.”

“So I ain’t the only one on her naughty-list,” he considered with a chuckle. “Hey, Kid.”

Kit stopped and masked a humbling sigh as he turned. “Kit.”

“Right. Listen, I’m trying to get something for the dark-side-of-the-moon over there…” he nodded to the figure of Eris, disappearing through the archway on the way to the west wing of the Tower. “But I’m having some trouble thinkin of something… different.. Something special. Any suggestions? Them Vanguard rave about the shit you give them every year. Figured you’re the guy to ask.”

“A gift for Eris Morn?” Kit’s gaze trailed after her. She was busy. She’d been through the unthinkable. She was a god for a time. What else could she want? “What did you have in mind?”

Drifter let go of the fabric and started fidgeting with his hands like they’d tell the story better than his mouth. “Something pretty. Like jewelry or something, maybe a pair of earrings or a nice necklace from one of the second-moon’s treasuries or something…” He looked up at Kit like a kid looking for his father’s approval. “What do you think?”

Jewels… pretty things… The Drifter was a good gift-giver. He was good at reading people, weeding out their greatest desires, feeding them promises and rewards and keep them coming for more, and here he was, floundering in shallow water over the thought of what Eris might like. Perhaps he understood too well, Kit thought, that she had everything, so what else could she want? “Gee, you’re quite the romantic aren’t you?” hummed the Warlock. “ I have an idea, but it’s going to take some work on your part.”

“I’m already in the soup. Help a brother out.”

“Alright…”
….

Kit got home later than expected. Wrapping paper was selling out somehow, gifts, the joy of beating the Witness was raising spirits all over the City and for the first time, Earth felt alive… like it was supposed to be. “Sorry I’m late,” Kit set his arm-fulls of bags on the living room loveseat and beelined to the kitchen, kissing Jin’s cheek before smothering him with a hug, coat on and everything.

“I was just heating up what you made yesterday. That alright?”

“Yeah. Oh, you’re not gonna believe this, but for the last three hours, I’ve been teaching the Drifter how to cook.”

“To cook? I didn’t know he could learn.”

“He asked me what Eris might like for the Dawning this year. He thought maybe some jewelry or something pretty, which I wouldn’t mind any of, but she’s mm… not the type.” Kit swiped a taste of the sauce in the pan and sat himself at the kitchen table, pouring himself a glass of red wine. “I’d say in the next couple minutes, if he called her like I told him to, they’ll be at the top of the Tower, splitting a meal. If he listened to what I said, he’ll be pulling out her chair for her, and serving fish with lemon butter and a glass of champagne.”

“Is that where that went?”

“If it all goes to plan, they’ll have a lovely evening, listening to the wind, clanking their silverware, Germaine won’t smell eau de sewer, and Eris will have a Dawning gift she never could’ve imagined. Floating lights, the sound of distant music, a tablecloth… the works.”

“You helped him plan all that?”

“I think I feel bad for the guy. He was on decor-duty via mother-dearest. And when it comes to Eris, how are you supposed to compete with godhood?”

“You tell me. I’ve been wondering the same thing since I laid eyes on you.”

“You!” Kit giggled, nearly dumping his glass over the table.

“Speaking of dinner, ours is ready. It’s just leftovers, but it’s hot, so dig in.”

“Just,” said Kit, bemused. “Thank you, Jin.”

They sat at the table and, not for the first time, they shared a sense of harmony, like the peace at that table was meant for the two of them and nothing else, and the dark, snowy sky outside, quieted all within the house save for the clink of silverware on plates. The Warlock spent a long moment looking at his Hunter with a fond warmth before even considering the food on his plate. A silly memory came to mind. Jin’s first time in his house, forcing him to eat when they were both very confused and very lonely. It felt like ages ago by now.

“I’m thankful,” Kit said, flushed and poking his food around the plate. “For you. I’m blessed to have you in my life. You, Ghost, Q… you’re my family. I love you. Coming home everyday to a handsome man and a warm meal–” the table radiated with soft laughter, a contagion Kit spread best. “–was something I never thought truly possible. And here you are.” Kit’s gaze lingered on Jin’s face, grinning wider as his eyes waned into smiling crescents. “I’m amazed by you.”

“The Drifter’s plight make you sentimental?” Jin joked as a way to settle the raging blush climbing down his neck.

“No,” Kit chuckled. “No. I’m just thankful. The Dawning is one of those holidays that hits a little harder than the others. I’m just happy… so happy… I don’t think I’ve ever been this happy before and you deserve to know it. Thank you, Jin. Thank you, Q,” he added quietly to the ether.

Jin smiled, taking a moment to reach across the table and squeeze Kit’s lithe fingers, before raising his glass. “To the Drifter, to Eris, and to you. Happy Dawning.”

“Happy Dawning.”