perpetually tired af

Author Note: So, not the KCD Tomb Raider/Uncharted AU fic that I've been talking about, but a shorter one. This was only supposed to be 1K and finished on the weekend but. Here we are. Finally edited. And shoving this out before I re-read again. This needs to be done.

Anyway, this takes place after the longer KCD TRU AU I'm working on.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck," Hans cursed as he scrambled further up the damp and jagged dead-end of the cave and onto a small, precarious ledge. Below him, water rushed in at an alarmingly rapid rate.

"You just had to press the switch!" Henry called out over the crashing of waves against the rocks.

"For fucks sake! How was I supposed to know it was going to break apart the old aqueduct?"

"I don't know, read!? Aren't you supposed to have all these degrees in languages?"

"Did you see any text?"

"Capon, if I die here —"

"We're not going to die!" Hans shouted, but as he unclipped the blue chemlight from his bag and lifted it up above their heads, hope faded fast. The stone was smooth compared to the walls they had clambered up. There were no cracks or fissures or gaps they could break apart or squeeze through. They were trapped.

Beside him, Henry's hands were grabbing at rocks in a desperate yet feeble attempt to find loose stone and a way to escape. Then, his ragged breathing turned into a sharp hiss and he quickly jerked his hand away. "Kurva."

Turning to look at Henry, Hans could see the dark blood that had already begun to trickle down his wrist from the deep, uneven gash that cross the heel of his hand. Henry quickly gathered the hem of his navy henley with his free hand and clamped it over the wound to apply pressure.

"I keep telling you to get gloves," Hans scolded. He put the chemlight between his teeth and reached behind him for his bag. He fumbled with a zipper in the side for a seconding before pulling out a roll of gauze. "Hold shtill," He spoke around the light.

"There's no point." Henry sounded dejected as he held his hand close to himself. Hans shot him a look, shoved the hand holding the shirt away and pulled the wounded hand closer, and began wrapping the gauze around the cut.

"We're not going to die," he repeated. "We'll have to shwim."

"Swim?"

"Yesh. Shwim." Hans tied off the gauze at Henry's wrist. It was wrapped haphazardly would do the job until they could properly care for it. He clipped the chemlight back to the strap of his bag and looked down at the water. It hadn't reached them yet, but it would only be a matter of minutes before the cave completely flooded. "We'll have to try and go out the way we came, move the wood beams that collapsed behind us and swim up to the surface. Can you do that?"

Henry cast an uneasy glance at the rising water. "… I don't know."

Hans's brow furrowed. The Henry next to him was not the bold and brave man he'd come to know. He seemed… smaller, somehow. Younger. His hand gripped the wrist of his wounded hand and his free fingers flexed anxiously. Hans could see the silver ring that hung around Henry's neck glinting in the blue light, rising and falling at a pace quicker than he'd expected it to.

"We'll take a deep breath and go. If we're quick getting through, it won't take long to get to the surface. No more than two minutes. Three, max. The wood is old and damaged, so it should be easy to break past it."

"I…" Henry closed his eyes and took a deep breath. "I can't swim."

Hans stared at Henry in disbelief. He'd seen Henry evade gunfire and ancient traps as if it were second nature. How could the man not know how to swim? "You're yanking my pizzle."

"I'm not."

"Christ's wounds," Hans sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. He could hardly hear himself over the water that was beginning to splash against his boots.

"There was a river by the town I grew up in, but it wasn't deep enough for swimming. And it's never been a problem until now."

That Hans knew was untrue. They'd raided tombs before with plenty of water that could've led to disaster if Henry had fallen, not to mention the boat ride they'd taken earlier that morning to get to where they were now. It could've been a very big problem. Had there been signs he'd missed or ignored? Why had Henry not said anything before?

"It'll be fine. Look at me." When Henry didn't, Hans reached out and grabbed his chin, forcing him to turn his head and meet his eye. "It's not as hard as it seems. The current won't be as strong once there's no where else for the water to go, so we'll have to wait until the last possible moment. Just follow my lead and hold your breath as long as you can, alright?"

Henry was still. Only his dark eyes darted back and forth. Hans could feel the water climbing up his shins, nearing his knees, but he kept his gaze on Henry. Eventually, Henry nodded into his hand, slowly and stiffly, and Hans let go.

"Good. Just keep your eyes on me. Don't look at the water. And breathe." He inhaled deeply through his nose to demonstrate — taking in the smell of the water, damp earth, and wet rocks — and Henry followed suit. Then, let out a slow exhale and nodded in approval as Henry did the same. When he glanced down at water splashing around their waists, Hans took his head in his hands, more gently this time, to keep his chin up. "Eyes on me, Hal."

The water reached their chests and Henry's hand lifted to wrap around the back of Hans's neck. He could feel the damp gauze over his skin and when Henry's thumb brushed against his ear, wet and cool from the water, Hans shivered.

"Hans," Henry said, barely audible over the water that continued to splash against the rocks around them. It was the first time Henry called him by his name, rather than "Capon", and it made something twist in his gut beneath the anxiety he was fighting for Henry's sake. "Hans, I—"

"Don't. Just focus on breathing. We can talk when we get out."

"But if we—"

"We won't," Hans said firmly.

The water was at lapping his collarbone and both their necklaces floated on the surface, the metal of Henry's clinking quietly against the stone of his own. Beneath the water's edge, the chemlight floated upward from his pack and bumped against his shoulder. He could feel Henry's shuddering breath come out in warm puffs against his face and his fingertips pressing firmly against the base of his skull. Hans, without thinking, leaned in closer. Their noses bumped against one another and his lips grazed against Henry's, light and fleeting. When the water tickled his chin, he pulled away and used his hand to gently tilt Henry's head back.

"When I say, breathe in as deeply as you can and we'll go under."

Again, Henry nodded against his hand. He could see Henry's Adam's apple clearly as it bobbed in a nervous swallow. Drops of water trickled down over the stretched skin and caught in the chemlight's dimmed glow. He tore his eyes away and tilted his own head back to stare up at the stone just inches above them as the water lapped at his jawline.

"Okay? Are you ready? One —"

"Not really."

"Two —"

"Hans…!"

"Three!"

"C'mon, Henry!" Hans grunted and blinked away the water that dripped into his eyes from his hair. His hands were centered over Henry's chest, one over the other with his fingers laced together. He pressed down hard, keeping his elbows locked, and mouthed voiceless numbers to himself.

His pack had been discarded along with Henry's shoulder holster, thrown aside without much thought or care somewhere along the water's edge. It had settled, and though it continued to fall from the collapsed aqueduct and tumbled over the carved rock imitating some old, forgotten deity, he could hardly hear it. He kept his ears strained, waiting for Henry to take a breath. To cough. To gurgle. Anything.

Henry was right. He shouldn't have touched the switch. There must've been something there to hint at what would happen. He should have paid attention. He should have been more careful. It was his fault the water overcame them. His fault they got trapped in the cave. His fault Henry was…

He pushed the thought from his mind. Henry would be fine. He was too strong and stubborn. He hadn't been under the water long. He couldn't have taken in much water. That was why he was taking so long to breathe, why Hans been doing compressions for what seemed like an eternity. He was stubborn.

Tilting Henry's chin back with his fingers, Hans used his other hand to pinch his nose shut, and leaned down. Then, he pressed his mouth firmly over Henry's and exhaled, eyeing his chest carefully to make sure it raised, paused, and did it a second time.

Still, Henry did not stir.

With arms that trembled from exhaustion, Hans straightened his back and placed his hands onto Henry's chest once more. He didn't know how much longer he could keep going. The rocky surface beneath them dug small rocks into his knees and shins with sharp, needle like pains that he did his best to ignore. He could feel his necklace bouncing around his neck with each compression. Each breath burned in his throat. And his eyes were beginning to sting. Something in the water, he thought to himself.

His gaze slid from his own hands to look at Henry's face. The thin leather strap that kept the silver ring around his neck had fallen to one side and rested on the ground somewhere above his shoulder. His lips were pale, parted, and wet. Hans wished that he could recall the prayers his mother used to say to the Virgin Mary for his father's protection. He had never been very religious but in that moment he would try anything that might make those lips move of their own volition.

"Please, Hal," he choked out, surprising himself with how thick with emotion his own voice sounded. "Please."

Peace.

That was the last thing Henry remembered. A strange, overwhelming sense of peace as his body relaxed in the water. He'd held his breath for as long as he could. It had hurt more than he thought it might, that building tension in his chest, until he inhaled against his will. It wasn't at all what he expected, almost like breathing regularly, and any of the panic he felt vanished. Instead he felt… weightless. Calm. There was no more pain. No fear. Death came easy. Like succumbing to sleep.

Before his eyes closed, he could vaguely see his family's ring floating before him and catching in the natural light that filtered in through the water's surface above. It was beautiful, the vast blue that surrounded him, and quiet. There were worse ways to go. Maybe now, if he was lucky, he'd see his Ma and Pa again. In his time working for Radzig, he'd learned that so many legends and myths had a glimmer of truth to them. Perhaps the existence of Heaven, in some form or another, was real too.

Suddenly, he was coughing. Water and whatever else he had in him dragged up his throat and spilled out of his mouth. He could feel something cool and hard against his cheek. His clothes were soaked and clinging to his body uncomfortably. He gasped, air rushing back into his lungs almost painfully. He could hear a voice, distant and muffled, saying his name. It was then that he became aware of a hand on his shoulder, holding him in place as he retched.

Reaching up with a shaking hand, he rubbed the back of his wrist over his mouth and felt the drag of the forgotten gauze against his lips. His eyes followed the hand that held his shoulder to look up at Hans kneeling over him. Wet strands of blond hair darkened by the water and hanged over his forehead. Beads of water dripped down the sides of his flushed face and off the tip of his nose, and there was a smile tugging at the corner of his lips Henry had never seen before.

"Oh, thank Christ," Hans breathed. "I thought you were done for."

"So did I," Henry wheezed as he began to sit up with Hans's assistance. He felt dizzy at first but the sensation didn't last long. Looking down at the gauze that had begun to come loose around his palm, he could see the pink stain in the centre of it, lightened from the water but beginning to darken again. Flexing his fingers ached and pulled sharply at the gash beneath it. It would need to be cleaned and cared for, the bandages replaced at the very least, but Hans had used all the gauze he had. Hopefully someone in the village could stitch it for him, otherwise he'd have to do it himself.

"Henry, look, I… I want to apologize."

Henry arched an eyebrow and raised his head. Hans wasn't looking at him. Instead, he stared off at the water behind him. His smile had vanished too. "You want to apologize?"

"Yes. Look, perhaps you were right. Maybe I should have been more careful."

"You're admitting that I was right?"

"Shut up," Hans huffed, shooting Henry a look. His hand raised like he might shove Henry's shoulder, but he lowered it to his lap instead. "Or maybe you should've told me you couldn't swim, you blockhead."

Henry chuckled weakly and a dull ache bloomed in his chest. "Yeah. Maybe."

"… I am sorry, though. Truly. You almost died because of me."

"I also survived because of you."

Hans's eyes flickered up at him from underneath his light lashes. Henry had never realized just how blue they were before, though perhaps they were made brighter by the redness that surrounded them. He found himself reaching forward, his hand gently resting against Hans's cheek to tilt his head up, like he had done for him in the water, and lightly swept his thumb under his eye. Before he realized it, he'd closed the distance between them and tenderly pressed his lips to Hans's.

It was not their first kiss but it was far sweeter than any they'd shared up until that point. There was no sense of urgency, or need, or passion. It was soft. Slow. Hans's lips were cold from the water, though no colder than his own. Suddenly, those lips parted, and instead of a sigh or a sweep of a tongue, Henry heard a quiet sob. With a furrowed brow, he pulled back quickly and Hans immediately turned his head away.

"Are you—"

"Don't even say it," Hans said in a sharp but shaky voice. His hands were on his face, rubbing furiously as he pulled himself up to his feet. "We need to get the relic"

"Capon…" Henry sighed.

"It'll be under the water now. Stay here. I'll grab it."

Water dripped from Hans's clothes and onto the stone, the sound of his wet boots squelching as he walked past Henry. The empty cavern they'd descended into less than an hour ago was now filled with water. The closer Hans got to the edge, the more Henry wanted to call him back. "We can talk when we get out," Hans had said, yet they hadn't. There was so much Henry still wanted to say, but… What did he want to say?

He couldn't think. Panic was washing over him, making his mind reel but his body freeze in place. Instead he watched as Hans approached the water's edge and prepared to dive. Henry wanted to call him back. What if something happened and Henry couldn't rescue him? Was some old relic really worth his life?