Insanity

You hated today. You hated this week. You hated this entire month. You hated having to get up at 4am. You hated that it was the weekend. You hated this hike. You hated your boss who thought this was a good idea. You hated that you had to go on this stupid trip. You hated your coworkers who left all the prep to you. You hated that everyone else rocked up at 7am an hour after you had already arrived. You hated that everyone took their bottles and trail mix and safety gear, and complained about how bland the food was or how the backpack didn’t match their outfit or that the Anti-Space Marine stuff wasn’t necessary. 

You hated how your boss booked an advanced wilderness trail despite the fact only three of your twenty-something coworkers actually spent time in The Great Outdoors. You hated how they thought the walk would only take an hour or two, despite the fact this was a day-long-hike. You hated how they didn’t listen to you when giving them directions. You hated how they got lost despite you telling them, repeatedly, that moss is not a fucking compass. You hated that you had to climb that cliff to find your way. You hated how they complained about you taking so long to climb it. You hated how loud you had to shout to get the fuckers to listen when you pointed them in the right direction. You hated how long it took you to get back down because it’s been raining for an hour.

You hated how they left you behind.

One highlight in all this, however, is that now that you didn’t have all the dumbasses to deal with, you could go off-trail and head back to the parking lot in half the time. It’s already mid-day but you should get there in the afternoon easily enough. Honestly you’re surprised your coworkers kept going this long. Either pride or delusion, or maybe many of them just weren’t able to speak up. You couldn’t blame those ones, as the boss was… not great and when your choices were either kiss ass, be just as obnoxious, or keep your head down, a lot of people chose the latter option. Not everyone could be a ‘yes man’, so just not saying anything seemed to work well enough.

And look where that landed you. Out in the middle of nowhere, alone, tired, and pissed off. 

The views were nice, though. And the quiet. You knew there was a Space Marine base not too far from here, either, so you knew the area was fairly safe. Beyond the usual dangers of nature, and stupid people.

You had heard that was a feral warband roaming about, but you doubt it was true. Even if it was, the local Astartes would never allow such a threat to remain. So, you travelled, feeling fairly certain that any encounters in the wild would be a stock-standard affair. 

As you meandered through game trails, followed streams, and just enjoyed being out in nature, you ruminated on your situation.

The month hadn’t been that bad, just busy. You, and the rest of the office, had been working more overtime to cover your boss’s fuck up. Then half the team got sick, you included, and you worked from home while recovering, which your boss and manager threw a hissyfit over. You barely had the time, let alone energy, to do your regular shopping trip. You basically slept through your days off, then the owner of the place you’re renting tried to jack up the rent, again, and you had to politely remind them that you were under contract and until that contract expired he could, politely, fuck off. Then a friend had a bad breakup so you went out, got drunk, ate an obscene amount of ice cream and forced yourself to sit through a horror-movie-marathon while said friend sobbed and laugh-cried through every one. Then they bitched about the icecream being ‘too cheap’ for the pain they were going through, then they threw up in your kitchen and passed out on the stairs. Then the neighbours dogs got into the yard and destroyed your garden, and the family demanded you pay for the vet bill because the dogs got sick from eating things they shouldn’t, even though they were the ones who denied having a taller fence built so the dogs couldn’t jump it and get into places they shouldn’t. Then some other neighbours' kids crashed their bikes into your car, but at least they were nice enough to pay for the damages. Then some asshole rear ended that same car while you were out shopping. Twice. Then you had to all but bite the head off the officer you called to make a report, and chase down the footage, and all but threaten legal action to get the idiot teenagers parents to pay for repairs.

… Wow. It’s been a shit month, actually.

“On god, I will kill my boss. I will burn down the entire workplace, with him inside, and dance upon the ashes. I will announce I am taking my sick-leave because I am sick of everyone there. And if that bitch of a Department Head tries to complain about ‘staying present during this busy time’ or ‘taking one for the team’ I will remind her that she just took a two-month long vacation without telling anyone, and that she would really take one for the team by taking her head out of her-” 

A sudden noise made you jump, and you turned towards the source. Somewhere through the trees. It sounded like metal crashing through wood and stone. 

You had a thought to investigate, curiosity rising in your mind.

You turned around and kept walking.

“Nope. I’m white but I ain’t that white.” You mutter, “I refuse to be the dumb bitch in a horror movie.” You pick up your pace, but only make it a few feet before you freeze.

A chill skitters up your spine, prickling and warning. You strain to listen, but hear nothing. Nothing. Not birdsong, not insects, not even the rustling of trees, as though even the wind is too afraid to take a breath.

Despite everything in your screaming ‘don’t do it!’ you slowly turn back to where the noise came from. The only thing you register before the panic sets in is Space Marine before you stumble back in your haste to get away. Something about this one had your instincts telling you to run, even though you knew you couldn’t outrun him, but you had to try.

As if to confirm reality, you hadn’t even fully turned before the Marine was on you. A massive gauntlet wrapped around your throat and shoulders, lifting you with an almost mocking lack of effort. Instinctively you grasped at the armour, but knew there was no escape, even as you struggled to claw the offending limb. In response, his hold tightened to the point of pain, cutting off your air supply as well.

“Where are we?” The voice, slightly distorted through the helm, was nothing but cold, his gauntleted fist tightening. You recognised the High Gothic, and you were never so thankful to have learned it in your childhood.

You tried to speak, but nothing came out. Tears stung your eyes and blurred your vision. You slammed the side of your fist against the hand that held you aloft. Mercifully, he loosened his grip enough to let you breathe, but still held you in his brutal, painful grip.

“Ri-Ridge Parker Peaks… Nat-ure. Reserve.” You gasp, forcing out the words through your damaged throat. You’re going to need to go to a hospital later, you know it. If you survive that long.

“What planet?” He snaps the question, and for a moment you're terrified he’ll snap your neck instead.

‘Oh.’ You stare at him for a moment, the blue of the visor so bright it was almost blinding in its intensity. He was a new arrival. He was confused and furious. That meant… You were going to die here.

“Earth. You call it Terra.” You try. Try to explain. Try to soften the blow. Try not to be killed. But you can’t think, only stare into the face of death, every word a battle against your own mind. 

“Lie.” He states, his grip tightening once again. “I shall rip the truth from you.” And as you scrabble against his immovable hold, as darkness begins to dot at the edge of your vision, you feel something pierce your mind. Digging, searching. Unseeing, you see as memories, knowledge, is torn from you. The year, the planet- the history lesson in high school, Miss Lang talking about how the Space Marines -Astartes- began arriving and how they’ve built up their society alongside your own. You feel whatever thing is in your mind, trying to dig deeper, and fear rises like a thrashing beast.

‘Get. Out.’ You snarl in your mind, the teeth of your fear and fury wrapping around the intruders throat-

You’re on the ground. Mud icey cold as it sinks into your clothes, you heave and gasp as you turn onto your side, desperately trying to push your up. The thing in your head is gone, but somehow you know it wasn’t because you actually pushed it out, more like it was surprised, even amused, by your defiance. By your desperate, messy, weak attempt to fight back.

You get to your feet, and as you do you finally notice the others.

‘Oh god they’re multiplying.’ You bite back the hysteric laugh that threatens to overtake you, coughing as you rise to your feet. You look back to the nearest one, the one that nearly broke your neck, and he’s just staring at you. Helmet tilted down slightly, burning blue visor freezing you to the spot. The others are standing in a half circle slightly behind him. Four in total. Is he the leader? You can’t tell. You don’t recognise the sigils or the colours, their armour looks different to what you’ve seen of other Marines. 

You jump a little as the presumed leader turns to one of the others, and you risk taking a step away.

Visors turn sharply back to you. 

All of them are looking at you now.

Fuck.

The feeling comes back, but you’re ready this time. Before it can get more than skin deep, you bring up that roiling beast of rage and panic and think of nothing else. You don’t know what you’re doing, not really. You had a neighbour who was bonded to a Thousand Sons and he talked about shielding and protecting the mind and tried to give you lessons and now you really, really wish you took them seriously. But you use what you know and conjure a beast to protect your mind as best you can. Ripping and snarling and focused on keeping out intruders.

The feeling fades away, and you let out a shaking breath. The beast does not stop its pacing in your mind. You imagine it pacing back and forth around your mind. Waiting. You get the feeling the intruder is irritated, but also amused. That amusement may be the only thing keeping you alive.

“There is an Astartes base in the area. You will take us there.” It wasn’t a question. Wasn’t even a demand. It was truth, spoken into existence.

“There-” You cough, “There are two ways. The river or the path. The path is more direct-”

“The path.” The leader speaks. You furrow your brows, trying not to agitate the Astartes any further.

“But-”

“We will take the path.” He cuts in, and your mouth snaps shut. You give a sigh and nod, turning towards the direction of the path. It would take some trekking through the wild, but it should be easy enough to reach. You’ll be passing near the river, too, but that’s no longer an option, it seems.

“Well alright then, let's just traipse into a feral warband then, shall we?” You mutter in English, only to be grabbed by one of the Space Marines. You look up at him in surprise.

“What?”

“What?”

“What did you say?” He all but spits out. Clearly unwilling to tolerate any kind of disrespect. Fuck right they have super hearing. Shit.

“I said there’s a feral warband roaming around.” You say, trying not to let your frustration show. Terrified that they’ll lash out and leave you a splatter of red against a tree. “The path risks crossing them. The riverway is longer, but safer.” 

“That changes nothing.” He says, shoving you forward hard enough to make you fall. You hit the ground hard, further soaking you in mud and giving you a few scrapes to go with it. With a grunt of effort, you get on your feet and head out. This time you keep your mouth shut.

Either they don’t know what you mean by a feral warband, or they don’t care. Maybe they could handle it, maybe not. You just hope that you don’t run into them… 

The next hour is oppressive. The rain returns, heavy and cold, a relief to the heat of the day but now everything is muffled. Insulated. Silence settles like a cloak of knives over your shoulders. One wrong move and you bleed. One wrong word and your throat will be slit. Your back is a bowstring pulled too tight, ready to snap, your shoulders begin to ache from the tension. You feel like you're being haunted, almost. Four wraiths donned in white armour herding you forward.

You’re almost relieved when one of them grabs you suddenly, waiting on a moment before all but tossing you carelessly to the side. You tumble into the foliage, down the short slope that brackets one side of the path here, and come to a stop by a cluster of large stones. You wheeze, the wind knocked out of you, as you all but drag yourself onto your side, and then onto your hands and knees. 

You feel the clash of battle before you hear it. War Cries and chants collide, shots of those massive guns explode through the air, the sound of metal meeting metal tearing through the space in a violent frenzy. You look off to the side, up where you glimpse rapid movement and sparks and fire and blood between the trees, have no idea what’s going on, but you know you need to run.

You lift your head forward, intent on finding the best path forward-

Only to meet black.

Black, glittering eyes and a too wide smile filled with sharp teeth that dripped with malice.

“Lookie here…” He coos, delighted. Accent heavy. “A little lamb abandoned by her guard dogs.” He reaches out and grabs you pack, dragging you into the air as he stands. You flail a moment, trying to recall your lessons on what to do when a feral Astartes attacks that doesn’t devolve into ‘You’re fucked. Accept death’.

You reach behind you, one hand trying to pull yourself up as the straps dig into your skin, the other patting at pockets and backpack and wherever you can reach. There must be something you can do. You’re not dying here. Not by this fucker!

Your struggles seem to excite him, as he begins to laugh, a clawed hand reaching out to trail down your side, drawing blood as it tore through your clothes. You bite back a scream, refusing to give him what he wants. This only made him laugh more.

“Oh, a stubborn one! They are so much fun!” He crows as your kicking and flailing accidentally causes you to knick yourself, bloody lines blooming from thigh to knee.

So distracted he was, he didn’t notice when you felt your hand wrap around something round and dented. He didn’t notice the look of triumph that crossed your features. He didn’t notice you flick out the pin -you remind yourself to thank your friend for teaching you this trick- and tossing the flash-grenade in the Night Lords face as you buried your own in your arm to shield your eyes from the light.

A scream told you it worked, and the sudden rush of movement as the Night Lord flailed told you he hadn’t let you go. Desperate, your hands went to the clasps of your bag and a moment later you were arcing through the air. You hit a tree before you could complete it, but the ferns and moss mostly broke your fall. You didn’t feel much pain, which was either very lucky or very bad.

You didn’t look. Didn’t think. Just ran.

That Night Lord was as good as blind but you don’t doubt that the flash grenade caught everyone's attention. The screaming of the blind Astartes and the cacophony of battle faded behind you, replaced by your own laboured breathing and the pounding in your ears.

The sound of rushing water broke through the haze of panic.

The river!

You changed directions so sharply you skidded through mud and leaf-litter. Hands clawing the ground in a mindless bid to propel you onto your feet and forward. 

It didn’t take long for the river to come into view, thankfully you were near the intersection of the two. You almost cried at the sight, eyes blurring, beginning to slow down as you near the shoreline. Now, maybe, you can-

A crash-tear of wood has you dropping, but it wasn’t necessary as the broken tree flies past you in a blur several metres off to the side. Still too close.

“You pathetic creature! You think you can run from me? Think you can hide? I can still hear you! Still smell you!” The Night Lord screams as he stalks through the trees, creeping on all fours. His armour is more skin than metal, bruised and mottled in the colours that mark the beginning of decay. Black eyes bleeding and face burned, charred and oozing red, making the sight far more gruesome than it already was.

You look around you, desperate for an escape. Your eyes catch the sudden drop, barely a few metres away. A waterfall. You don’t know if the water is deep enough. You don’t even know if you’ll survive the impact. But it’s better than dying at the hands of this monster.

You bolt, ignoring the screaming noises behind you. The crash, the sound of earth and stone upheaving under the force of what’s hunting you. You pick up speed. Long strides. Onetwothree.

Jump.

Fall.

You cross your legs and arms, see the water rush up to meet you. Close your eyes.

The water embraced you with a violent grasp, pushing you down, down, down, until you hit the bed of watergrass, silt and rock, the freezing current dragging you along. You reached for the surface of the water, grey and silver mottled by the churning of rough waters. Lung burned and bubbles escaped your mouth as you were yanked by the shifting waters, pulling you one way, then the other. 

When you broke the surface, you could only choke out a gasp before you were dragged under again from a sudden drop. Your legs were caught by something sharp and reaching, you spied what you had barely a moment to process as a sunken tree, before you were torn away by the rushing currents. Your back hit stone, forcing air from your lungs, and bubbles blurred your vision as you were dragged along until open water welcomed you. The water was too fast to fight, you didn’t know where you were, but you moved towards the light. Struggling with every kick of your legs, every lunge, and desperate pull and push of your arms.

You broke through, gasping and gulping as the river stole you away. You spun slowly, uncontrolled, and spied the cliff you leapt, already so far away, before you lost sight of it again. You tread the water as best you could, as the river widened and the churning lessened bit by bit, until you could finally make headway in your bid for the shoreline.

You dragged yourself from the water, pebbles and wayward twigs dug into you as you crawled, soaked and shaking from what could have been your grave. You can see your breath, now. The chill of the air is only marginally kinder than the bite of the water.

You noticed the boots too late, but couldn’t bring yourself to care until a sudden weight hit your back, forcing you into the stony ground. Pain dug into your back and sides as the Marine squeezed.

“Did you think you could escape?” He spoke, low and dangerous. This was a different one. Not the leader, his voice was different.

“The Night Lord-” You heave, a pained whisper all you can manage.

“Is dead. We purged that filth.”

“Would you have done it before or after he killed me?” You snarl against the pebbles, “I wasn’t going to wait to find out! I wasn’t going to just roll over and die!” 

Silence followed. You breathed as best you could, but as the quiet dragged on, you realised what you said. Oh, you were dead. He was going to kill you. He was going to press down and shatter your spine and crush you into a gritty red paste.

Instead, to your shock, the weight receded like the tides. The pain remained, but you relished in the breath you took, even as the cold filled your lungs like shards of ice. Slowly, you moved, dragging your arms under you and forcing strength into them. From there, you pulled up a knee until you could place a foot onto the ground, kneeling. With a final lurch, you forced yourself to stand. Your ankle twinged, painfully. You look down.

‘I lost a shoe.’ You stare at your foot, which is missing said shoe. You also lost your sock, somehow. But that seems less important. You see scratches, and the beginning of several bruises. Does cold help with bruising? You can’t remember. You feel another twinge of pain, though you can’t quite tell from where.

Strange, how the cold sharpened some pain while dulling others. Or maybe you were just numb. You were aching, but trying to pinpoint where only made another pain flare. Like it was jealous that one hurt was getting more attention. You look up and to your side, staring up at the blue visor. The rain made it blur around the edges, making it almost look soft. 

You turn to the others who have gathered.

“So.” You grin despite it all, because it was all you had. “Riverway or road?”

“River.” The leader, standing a little ways off, spoke up. “But we will be watching.”

You fight the urge to roll your eyes, but turn to follow the river. 

The walk started out like before. Quiet, oppressive, but the further you got the less you cared. You were cold, wet, you lost your shoe, and that twinge in your ankle bloomed into something sharp and constant, stabbing every time you put weight on it and flaring when you took pressure off.

The rain hadn’t stopped, either. If anything, it just got worse. There was barely any wind, so it just fell in one constant sheet. The temperature continued to drop, slowly, steadily.

Your covered foot hit a rock on your next step, causing pain to shoot up your leg and you fell with a cry. Cursing you shook as you waited for the pain to subside enough to move.

“Get up, witch.” One of them spoke, and you didn’t care enough to try and figure out which.

“You could help.” You grouse as you carefully maneuver your body into a standing position.

“Did you think we would help you in whatever vile plans you had for us? Did you believe summoning us would grant you power over us? We cannot be chained by such a lowly, weak thing.” There was an undercurrent of threat in that one's tone, barely restrained fury.

“What?” You slip into your language for a moment. Stopping, you turn to look up at them all in confusion. “I didn’t summon you. I was just passing by.”

“You expect us to believe such a weak attempt at deception?” Another sneered, “You have bound us to you, clearly! Why else would this be here?” He gestured somewhere around his chestplate, and you lowered your eyes to try and see what it was he was talking about. All you see are the decorations of his armour, and you don’t think he would be mad about that. There is a long pause before the one on the far right speaks.

“You can’t see it.” It’s not a question, his voice is steady at the realisation. 

“No.” You cringe as a sneaking, horrible suspicion creeps up on you.

‘Nope. Not dealing with that.’ You move to turn, but clearly they caught your expression. 

“What is it? What do you know?” One of the middle ones asks, and he’s almost polite about it. There is still ice and steel in his voice, an expectation of obedience, but no outright hostility.

“Nothing I can confirm. The Astartes we are going to see, they know more and will be able to explain things better than I can.” You say, hoping that’s enough for them as you move to continue walking. 

It is not.

‘Oh for fucksakes’ You think as you feel one of them grab you again. Next thing you know you're staring into the shining visor of one of the Space Marines, one of the more aggressive ones. You think it might be the one that threw you when the feral ambush happened.

“You will explain, mortal.” He growled, violence a promise on his tongue.

‘I wonder how many concussions I have now? If you have consecutive concussions, do they stack? Like pancakes? Oh, I want pancakes now. They would be perfect for this weather.’ You ponder, and you can admit it’s a bit delirious but also you’re too tired to care. 

“If… what I suspe-ct is true…” You wheeze out, pained, “Then you have wha-what is called a bond… It’s- ah- a link of some kind. If it’s con-connecting us then… then that means I am your bonded.” Though it’s futile, you grasp at his covered wrist. While your torso is getting crushed, at least the weight is off your feet.

“You did this.” Someone not holding you hissed, all venom and fury.

“No!” You try to yell, but it comes out as a choked cry. “No one can make a bond appear. It’s random. I have no control over it!” 

“What does this bond do?” The one holding you demands, you can feel his grip twitch. Tensing and relaxing, like he was trying to decide whether or not to just kill you now.

“I… I’m not sure. Not entirely. I-it just… makes you want to stay close, or some-thing like that. I’ve never been- bonded, so I don’t… I don’t know. Exactly.” You cough as you force out your explanation. “The- fuck! The Astartes base- hah. They can… e-explain it better. Know more.” 

You’re only mildly surprised he doesn’t kill you this time, but you're wholly surprised when he lets go slowly enough for you to slide down and land more or less softly on the wet ground beneath. You stare up at him for a moment, but turn away quickly lest you trigger his ire again.

Without a word, you shuffle to the side until you are safely out of their reach, even though you know they could grab you again easily. You continue to limp along the river, quietly wishing they had taken the path instead, at least it was even.

You don’t know how long you limp along, but you do know that your shivering has evolved to outright shaking, and you’re losing feeling in your extremities. Your eye has also swollen shut and the other aches but only really hurts when you blink. It’s around that time when your journey is interrupted again. Though this time it’s far more pleasant.

You don’t realise until the grey coloured Astartes surround you, weapons pointed at the treeline. 

“Reveal yourself!” The leader, you think -goddamn they all look the same right now- yells.

“Hold, cousins. We have no interest in fighting.” A voice boomed from the forest, and you hear the Space Marine before you see him. You see more of an outline of an Astartes than anything else, before one of the grey ones stepped between you and the newcomer. “We had reports of a disturbance. Evidence of a fight between Astartes, bodies strewn everywhere. I presume that was you?”

“We destroyed those tainted by chaos and daemonic influence.” The leader stated, pride at the slaughter he and the others committed was clear in his tone. There was a pause

“They were cowards that would run the moment they lost the advantage, but they were cunning, thus catching them has been difficult. I offer my gratitude for your assistance in this.” The newcomer's voice was low, with a steady cadence and deliberate eloquence. 

“Your gratitude is unnecessary,” The leader said plainly, “You have a base of operations in the area.” He phrased it like a question, but clearly it was not.

“We do. You are welcome there. I take it you are newcomers, yes? How long have you been… here?” He sounds cautious now, as though he is unsure how much to reveal. You can’t blame him, considering their reactions to what you’ve told them thus far.

“Twenty-first millennium Terra? Three hours and fourteen minutes. We were told you would have answers to our questions.”

“I see… Yes, we can answer your questions when we arrive.”

“Good.”

A pause.

“You have a baseline.” 

The Astartes close in around you. You flinch at the sudden movement, only to wince as the sudden movement causes pain signals to flare up. 

“She is not your concern.” The one behind you spoke up, quiet, steady, lethal.

“She is injured and clearly suffering from the early stages of hypothermia. She needs medical attention.”

“She will get it when we arrive.”

“We have-”

“Can we go, please? I want pancakes.” You call out, voice hoarse, but it’s more a loud whisper, words slurring a little. You don’t know why you mentioned wanting pancakes, but you don’t care. 

A moment passes.

“Very well. We will alert the facility of our impending arrival, and the request for pancakes.” You can’t tell if his tone is coloured with humour, concern or confusion. You don’t care. As long as it gets you out of the rain, and out of the damn cold.

You follow the grey Space Marine in front of you, staring blankly at his back as you walk behind him. Limping and stumbling and shaking. They maintain their position around you as they move. You don’t look down at yourself, you don’t want to see the state you're in. All you know is that it's bad. Instead you focus on what’s ahead of you and let the rain lull you into a sort of trance, doing your best to ignore the pain.

Limp, pause, limp, stagger, repeat.

Again. Again. Again.

Grey armour. Grey rain. Grey clouds. Grey fog. Grey stone. 

It’s not until you almost walk into the Leader that you realise they’ve stopped moving. You blink into awareness. Your eyes hurt. You look around. You’re in a… courtyard, of some kind? From what you can see. It’s a big open space with tall walls. When had they gotten here?

Your head hurts.

Raised voices catch your attention. How long had they been talking?

“...Us to agree to such terms?” The leader spoke, his tone a blade's edge held to the throat. 

“There are rules while you stay here, not just in the fortress, but here on Ancient Terra. While we appreciate your aid in the matter of the feral warband, the fact of the matter is you are new here and do not know how things are run. While you will be given some grace, you are not exempt from the rules here.” A new voice spoke up, different from the one in the forest.

Movement caught your eye, and a glance showed that there were… several Astartes closing in. Slowly. Almost casually. You have never seen so many Astartes here, or so many types. They are steadily beginning to swarm the group of newcomers.

“We do not abide by your precious codex, Ultramarine.” The Leader said cooly, but the steel in his voice made you cringe. Your neck twinges.

“No.” The same voice from the forest, this time. “This is not the codex, but a code of conduct while you are here. If they are not abided by, then you will be treated no different than the feral warband you decimated, and you will be dealt with in the same manner.”

“With incompetence?” The one to your left spoke up, and unbidden you let out a quiet snort only to immediately regret it as it jarred several aches and pains to the forefront of your awareness.

There was a long moment.

Your bones ached from the shaking.

“The choice is yours. Stay and behave, or leave and be without the protection or support of any Astartes on the planet.”

The silence that followed stretched out for so long you began to list to one side.

“Very well.”

“Good. Your rooms are ready, Dagoneas will escort you there. Xarkoth, take the young one-”

“No.”

Impossibly, you felt the temperature drop several degrees at the Leader's word.

“What?” The voice is quiet, the kind of quiet that precedes an execution.

“The mortal stays in our presence. If she is to go anywhere, it will be with us.”

“Have you looked at her, Grey Knight? Have you seen the state she’s in? She needs to go to the Apothecarium. You need to go to your assigned quarters.”

“She will not leave our sight.”

“And what of her condition?” A new voice spoke up, this one dark and full of quiet rage. “Are you to tell us you found her with those injuries? That you are not the cause? I can smell her pain on you.”

The Leader shifted, turning to the new voice.

“That is none of your-”

He is interrupted when a short series of sharp coughs wracks through your ribcage, ricocheting through you like shrapnel. You gag, but manage to keep yourself from throwing up.

“Ah, fuck.” You mutter, voice hoarse and quiet. “That’s not good.”

You hear someone cover a laugh with a cough.

“Miss.” Someone says, and you force your neck to turn just enough to see a Salamander standing a short distance away. A gauntlet covered hand is held out, beseeching. You can see the steam coming off him. He must be warm.

You take a step in his direction, only your legs don’t work properly. They tingle, half numbness and half pain, and you stumble but keep going on. As you make to pass one of the grey Astartes, you’re jerked back harshly as something cold and unyielding wraps around your arm.

“She stays.” He snarled, voice low and warning, his grip tightening, “You have no right-”

“I have every right! She will die at this rate.” You winced at the volume, as it broke through the hush of the rain, but also the hold was now painful. You weakly grabbed at the gauntlet to no avail, of course. Nobody even noticed, you don’t think.

“You shall not take her!” Someone else hissed, furious.

“Ah, please-”

“Listen to reason! She needs medical attention.” A different Marine said, you don’t know who. The pain was all you were sure of, and you were sure it was getting worse.

“Stop-”

“We will not-”

SNAP!

Everyone was silent. Except you. You were screaming. Weak, choked, pained screams as you dropped to your knees. All strength gone, no one holding you up. You clutched your mangled arm, sobbing as tears seared their way down your frozen cheeks. The tears stung your injuries, the sobs aggravated your wounds, more and more pain and dizziness and you were choking. Choking on air and nothing and everything. Too much.

The earth shook and there was noise. Too much noise. Too much of everything and nothing and- and- and-

“It hurts.” You whine, trying to hold the sobs but that just makes them heaving, violent things as they are ripped out of you.

Something heavy is draped over you. Something warm -hot, hot, too hot, burning- wraps itself around you. You are moving. You can’t see. Don’t want to. It hurts. It hurts. It hurts.

“Shh little one. I know. I know. All will be well. Sarus! We need the anaesthetic now, she cannot wait. Stay with us, little one. I promise…” A voice, warm and gentle and soothing. You can’t hear the words, but you know the tone. Pain blends with all the others.