#bara ocs

Hakim smiled beneath his mask, he knew what was going on. Behind him, Vigil chuckled to himself, a rumbling sound as the Titan shook his head. “I think you have a surprise waiting for you.”

“Perhaps. I believe I know what’s happening though.” He turned enough to nod gratefully at his guard. “Thank you for escorting me home.”

Vigil, of course, waved off the gratitude. “It’s my duty,” he said. “I’ll see you in the morning, Speaker.” With Hakim’s well wishes, the Titan walked down the hall, his large figure and decorated armor disappearing from sight.

Hakim entered the apartment quietly, removing his shoes with ease and placing them on the other side of Vencel’s shoes. The mask was taken off next, placed on a side table in case he had any late visitors and needed to conceal his identity quickly. He pulled his cowl down, not bothering to deal with the hair that stuck up in all directions, and tiptoed into the living room.

Thick, long legs were draped over the arm of the couch, though a foot was sliding off and threatening to land on the floor. A large blanket was thrown hastily over rest of the body, bunching up around the middle that let Hakim catch a glimpse of a dark purple stomach. He leaned over the back of the couch, a smile on his lips as he lifted up part of the blanket. Bright blue eyes peered up at him, three settling on the side of Nul’s face before closing and their mouth split open. “Welcome home.”

“It’s good to be home,” Hakim replied. A hand reached up to cup his cheek, and he turned his head, kissing the palm. “Is Ven with you?”

Null sighed deeply, let go of Hakim’s face, and pulled the blanket back even more. Vencel was laying on their other arm, curled up, pink hair surely tangled, and sleeping soundly. More than he had been the past few nights at least. Nightmares had been plaguing the child, and it pained Hakim to hear terrified whimpers next to his bed in the middle of the night. Hakim watched his the child sleep for a few moments, counting the rise and falls of the small chest. “Got him to sleep an hour ago,” Null said. “All those sleepless nights finally wore him out.”

The types of nightmares Vencel was having would tire anyone out. Dreams of the Void, of grasping hands threatening to drown him, a veiled creature who dogged his every step; those were not the dreams of a regular child. They weren’t monsters under the bed or in the closet, they were as real as the Darkness that threatened Humanity’s existence every day. Unlike the Darkness though, Vencel’s dreams couldn’t be driven off with the burning fire of a Dawnblade. It was frustrating for Hakim to watch as his child lost sleep for days at a time, but all he could do was be there for Vencel.

A few moments passed, then Hakim pushed himself away from the couch. “I’ll be back,” he told Null. He got a noncommittal wave as went to the master bedroom to change out of his robes and into a more comfortable set of clothes. When he walked back to the living room, he circled around the couch, and Null huffed softly.

“Planning on sleeping too?” Their mouth closed, allowing two eyes to appear on their face, this time where eyes were supposed to be. They gave Hakim a quick once over, glancing at his flannel pajama pants and off shoulder long sleeved shirt that covered his hands. The eyes went away, mouth opening once more as they pulled Hakim in top of them. Vencel was a welcome weight on their arm. Knowing where their child was eased any panic that could crop up. With Vencel tucked against their side, they could protect him.

The same for Hakim if they were going to be honest.

“Perhaps. Perhaps I just want to lay with you two,” Hakim said, adjusting his position to get more comfortable. His leg slid between Null’s, while the other was outside their thigh. One arm was placed on Null’s broad chest, and the other was thrown over their shoulder. He rested his head on the meat of Null’s chest, feeling the comforting buzz of static emanating from their skin, and sighed happily.

“Just for a few hours,” Null said. They pulled the blanket back over all three of them, leaving a hole to let cool air in. “The couch isn’t a good place to sleep.”

For the life of him, Hakim couldn’t help but laugh at the earnest look on Ven’s face. Wide eyes gazed up at him, glancing over to the windows for a second before returning to stare, and a smile that refused to leave the moment Ven looked out the window. Hakim scooped Ven into his arms, pressing a kiss to his cheek as they moved away from the windows and, by extension, the snow. “Soon, habibi, soon. First we have to get dressed, and then we can go see the snow.”

“Snow?” Ven pouted at him, and pointed at the windows again.

Hakim set Ven down on his bed, and laid his clothes out beside him. He clicked his tongue when Ven squirmed on the bed, a warning for him to stay still long enough for Hakim to help slip his pants on. They were baggy, liable to get caught on anything while Ven ran around, but they were insulated and would keep him from getting cold. He watched as Ven struggled to put his shirt on, only helping to push arms through the proper holes before his hands were slapped away. The jacket was the last piece. It had long coat tails, reminiscent of Hakim’s robes and he worried that Ven would slip on them, but the hood had fur on it, and besides that, it actually fit Ven. He shushed the soft whines of impatience as he clasped the jacket closed and tied the sash around Ven’s middle.

“Snow?” Ven asked, standing on top of the mattress.

“Not yet. I have to get dressed, too.” Though, he did dress as quickly as he could manage with the thick layers that weighed him down and the ornamental sash that rested on his stomach. The ends of his robes barely touched the floor, and the large, open sleeves were collected into a knot that kept the hemming from dragging on the ground. His cowl was the last thing he put on, and his mask was tucked into an inside pocket of his outer robe. Hakim matched the grin Ven was giving him, and, without wasting another second, he picked him up, propped him on his hip, and left the apartment as soon as shoes were put on.

—

Ven tugged on his hand again. The snow was enticing, sparkling in the morning sun, and piles were just out of Ven’s reaching fingers. Hakim knew that if he stopped for every pile of snow, it would be noon by the time that he reached the observatory. As much as he wanted to let Ven play, he had a job to do, and with Null away from the Tower for the time being, he had to juggle being a parent and being the Speaker equally. It was a challenge he never looked forward to, having to put his duties as Speaker before the simple wants of his child. There had been moments where he was tempted to spend the day with Ven, catching up on time lost to the long hours he kept, but responsibility kept him from doing just that.

Guilt made his skin crawl before he could shove the feeling away. His child only had so long, and he didn’t want remorse to dictate his reason.

Quick, pattering footsteps kept up with his strides, the small hand in his squeezing his fingers as they made it through the giant door of North Tower. A few Guardians hung about, Hunters wrapped up in their cloaks and Warlocks raising the collars of their robes while Titans sported knitted scarves around their necks. The Guardians bowed to Hakim, and some waved to Ven. Snow fell out of several hands, hitting the ground with a soft splat, letting Hakim know what he had just walked in on. He sighed softly to himself as Ven’s soft laughter reached his ears. A gentle nudge was sent to Vega, and the doors to the observatory opened, signaling his arrival to the Tower proper.

Ven tugged on his hand before they could cross the bridge to the observatory. “Snow?” He asked.

He knew he wouldn’t be able to deny Ven forever. They were outside, there were piles of snow pushed out of the way and salts were laid down to make walking easier. Guardians who prepared to get into a snowball fight right outside the observatory, and Hakim knew that there were more Guardians in the Courtyard doing causing mayhem with all the snow. Ven had been undeniably patient the entire morning, and it seemed to finally start wearing off. He was tugging at his sleeve, pouting, and gazing up at him with watery eyes, seconds away from hopping in place. Behind his mask, Hakim smiled. His duties could wait a moment longer. “Snow,” he agreed, holding down the laughter in his throat as Ven squealed.

The thick layers of his robes kept the chill out as he walked Ven over to a large pile of snow and knelt down in front of it. He pulled Ven in front of him, an arm wrapped around his middle to keep him from tumbling forward, and with the other grabbed a handful of packed snow. Immediately, Ven’s hands were on the snow, and Hakim was grateful for the gloves he managed to put on Ven before they reached the outside. The child grabbed a handful of snow from Hakim, and slowly started to turn it over in his hands, smoothing out the outside as much as he could.

Hakim made a guess. “A snowball?” Ven shook his head. “No? Then what are you making?”

“A snowman! Because, um, ‘cause Baba isn’t here for snow,” he explained, bouncing on the balls of his feet. Ven carefully put the ball he made on top of the pile, then took another handful from Hakim and repeating the process. The second ball was stacked on top of the first with Hakim’s help, and three eyes, two on the right side and one on the left, were drawn on the head. “And it looks like Baba.”

The small snowman was lumpy, one eye was too large, making the other too seem tiny by comparison, but Ven was proud of it. He was humming to himself, already making another snowman under Hakim’s watchful gaze. The second snowman was smaller than the first, and a third joined shortly after. Ven looked over his shoulder, up at the Speaker’s mask then back to the second snowman. He drew on the face carefully, stopping every so often to glance over at the mask on his father’s face until the design on it was drawn on the snowman. For the third snowman, a smiling face was drawn on it, the mouth wide and lopsided.

“It’s us!” Ven crowed.

Sure enough, Hakim could see the resemblance in the figures. Null’s was the biggest, he watched Ven scrawl his mask’s design into the face of the middle figure, and Ven’s was the smallest by far. He smiled to himself, and complemented Ven on his craftsmanship, wiping the excess snow off his glove before tucking the child against his side. With a gentle nudge across the bond, he asked Vega to take a picture; he wanted Null to see it when they returned from the Void. He wondered how long it would take for more of the simple, little snowmen to crop up around the Tower once more Guardians started trickling through North Tower. It would make for a decent game to tire Ven out at the very least, and Hakim tucked it away for later.

“Abbi? When is Baba coming home?” Ven asked quietly.

A beat of silence passed between parent and child, then Hakim scooped Ven up in his arms, standing up smoothly while holding Ven against his chest. “Sooner than you think,” he replied. He hoped that Null wouldn’t make him a liar. “It won’t be long.”

Ven’s hands were tucked between them, and he buried the tip of his nose into Hakim’s hood. “Promise?”

The harsh whispers stopped, and when they didn’t start up again Guardian took that as their cue to finally ask what the plan was. They hopped down from the boxes, ice water splashing up their boots, and climbed the stairs to where Ana had set up her equipment. Wires led into servers that led into the data stored inside the Bray facility, which were kept separate from the amount of space Rasputin needed to even function as a complex set of algorithms stacked on algorithms. A jewel of the Golden Age that forced itself into dormancy for its own selfish reasons. Ana was standing at her computers, hands balled into fists atop the keyboard and her brow furrowed like she had more to say. Zavala stood by the window gazing out at the frozen desert, hands behind his back as if to keep some modicum of professionalism because he knew Guardian was standing at the top of the stairs.

The Hunter stayed quiet, they could outlast both Zavala and Ana when it came to being silent. The air was tense, bearing down on them when they decided to once again sit and wait. They removed their guns from the straps on their back, leaning their scout rifle and shotgun against the short wall while their sidearm stayed strapped to their leg. They hopped up onto the railing, hands curling around the cold bar to hold themself steady, and waited. Either Zavala would give in first, or Ana would, and Guardian didn't know enough about either of them to make a solid bet on who would break the silence first.

Zavala didn’t speak, but he did move. He turned away from the window, moving his unrelenting stare from the ice and snow to Guardian. The two locked eyes, and if Guardian knew him better, or knew him at all really, they would know what to do with the piercing gaze. It bore into them, as if he could find the answers to unasked questions with a single look.

So they were caught off guard when Ana spoke first. “We have to stop Xol,” she said. She kept her eyes on her computer screen, refusing to look up at Zavala or over at Guardian. “If it gets out of those chasms and tunnels then it won’t hesitate to destroy Rasputin, and the facility.”

Guardian wished they had it in them to care.

They were only on the planet because of the Hive. They didn’t care about Rasputin, not after the orbital strikes, the general lack of care about humanity, and seeing the aftermath of SIVA. Whatever Ana saw in the A.I. wasn’t enough for Guardian.

“Which is where you come in, Guardian,” Zavala said. He didn’t want to be on Mars either to deal with Golden Age technology and the ramblings of a Warmind that closed itself off from humanity for centuries. He could see the dangers Rasputin would bring, and it seemed like he wished Ana would too. “You defeated the Taken King Oryx, a God in his own right. A Worm should hold no challenge.”

Guardian stared at Zavala. He knew what they were like during the Taken War. They were strung out and paranoid, falling apart at the seams and their only saving grace was Ira holding them together. “I didn’t do it on my own.”

“You won’t be alone, Rasputin will help,” Ana said, confident in her decision to trust the Warmind. “The Valkyrie will be instrumental in stopping Xol once and for all.” Guardian bit their tongue to keep from replying, allowing Ana to continue talking without a clue. “Which will be easier once I access more systems.”

Zavala’s stare was still focused on Guardian. “If you feel that you cannot—”

“I can do it,” they said. Their voice no longer shook, there was no more stuttering, but it was still raspy and quiet. It barely reached above a whisper, but it echoed off the walls. It even made Ana look at them. “But,” they continued before they could be interrupted, “but, only to stop Xol. I don’t care about Rasputin. I’ve seen too much of the aftermath of his decisions to give a damn about his safety.”

Ana’s jaw clenched, and Guardian silently dared the older Hunter to try something.

They were almost disappointed when nothing came of it.

Almost.

“Okay,” Ana breathed. Her hands relaxed, fingers stretching out over her keyboard. “Okay. But I’m not going to let you fight a Worm without some pretty powerful weapons at your disposal. The Valkyrie is going to be essential. We can deal with everything else after Xol is gone.”

Guardian accepted the hand they had been dealt with a silent nod. A giant Hive Worm was far more important than their personal feelings over a frighteningly powerful A.I., and they were more readily prepared to handle the Hive in general than Golden Age technology. They hopped off the railing and picked up their guns, returning them to the proper straps with quick hands. The guns were a welcome weight on their back, heavy enough to keep them grounded in the midst of an oncoming storm. “I’ll be outside. You two can keep talking.” They threw a half hearted salute at Zavala, and a lazy wave at Ana for good measure, before walking down the stairs.

The frigid air surrounding Clovis Bray was sharp, but it wasn’t the same kind of frost that happened on Earth. There was no needle like sensation against their skin, nothing to make goosebumps rise along their arms, and when they breathed out there were no puffs to show for it. A frozen Mars was nothing like a frozen Earth. Felwinter’s Peak put Hellas Basin to shame.

Guardian’s feet carried them to the ledge of the dam. Far enough away from the actual facility while still being close enough to burst into action if need be. They sighed heavily through their nose, and tucked their bangs behind their ear. The wind would obstruct their view when it kicked up, and Guardian didn’t want to put their helmet back on quite yet.

Heavy footsteps, the familiar comfort of Titan armor clunking along stone, reached them. The good soldier inside wanted them to stand up and properly greet the Commander. The Hunter in them kept them seated, heels bouncing off the dam wall. They patted the space next to them, and couldn’t keep the smile off their face when they saw Zavala sit next to them in their peripheral.

Silence overcome the pair. Both were grasping for words to say now that the division between Commander and soldier was shelved.

Zavala kept his eyes trained of a point far in the distance when he asked, “Are you prepared to fight a Worm God?” Guardian hummed, and brought their hands together to hold them between their legs. They stared out at the same point Zavala was, eyes focused on red, red rock.

“More or less. Xol isn’t like Oryx. I had help killing him because he went into the Ascendant Realm.” Guardian remembered the disbelief and the rage that followed them back to the Tower. In hindsight, it seemed childish to yell so loud their voice cracked as tears fell down their cheeks, but in the moment it seemed right. “But… I do wish Eris were around.”

“Her knowledge would be invaluable,” Zavala agreed softly.

“Her way might involve a lot more Hive magic though,” Guardian said. “And after Crota and Oryx and that huge Shrieker on Titan, I’d rather just… not.” There were other Guardians that could handle the Hive, that knew more about the intricacies of Sword Logic; Shaxx had unwound the mysteries long before anyone else did. Meanwhile, Guardian simply made their will to live stronger than the Hive’s will to kill them because they had to, because death to the Hive was unacceptable.

Their death was unacceptable.

And it seemed to work in their favor more often than not.

“Have you come to regret the things you’ve done, Guardian?” Zavala tore his eyes away from the far off point to look at the Hunter. To him, they were impossibly young for such an accomplished Guardian. Time was not their teacher, but the never ending battle they were risen to fight, and they learned the lessons without complaint.

Guardian looked at him. “Do you?”

The question didn’t catch Zaval off guard as much as Guardian hoped. The Commander answered with a prompt, “No, I do not.” Which left Guardian to flounder in their own head.

“Do you think I do?”

That earned Guardian a contemplative silence.

“No,” Zavala said quietly. “No, I don’t think you do. You’ve done many things since you were risen what seems like a lifetime ago. You destroyed the Black Heart, defeated Crota and Oryx, and contained the SIVA outbreak to the Plaguelands. Aside from a few understandable moments, there was never a time where you walked into the Vanguard Hall with nothing less than pride. You are remarkably unshakeable, Guardian. A rare trait to come across.”

The Hunter hummed to let Zavala know they had been listening as they turned his words over in their head. Zavala rarely saw them outside the Tower when it still existed and wasn’t more than a pile of bent metal and a gaping hole in the old Tower. He never made late night food runs for Ira and Jai and Apollo or sat on the highest point of the City with Hemlock and Ronin or wandered tight alleyways with Sadik and Roksana just to find the best noodle shop. He didn’t know their favorite color, their favorite food, their fears and worries that grew steadily over the months. To Zavala, they were Guardian, a dutiful Hunter that’s done the impossible time and time again as if the impossible was the only reason they were risen in the first place.

They winced inwardly. Remembering that there was more to life than being a Guardian was a concept they still struggled with.

“Not much else I can be,” Guardian said. “Guess I learned it from you.” The corner of Zavala’s mouth quirked up in the smallest smile Guardian had ever seen, but it was enough to make them cheer on the inside. “Really though. You’re always so… so-” they puffed their cheeks out, trying to find the word they wanted. Strong was cliche, as was inspirational, even if those words were true. Moments like this was when Guardian missed Ira the most. He always knew what to say; a word or six tucked away to use.

Just as Zavala turned his head, Guardian settled on a word. “Resolute,” they said, then whispered to themself, “yeah, that seems right. Right?”

“It’s kind of you to say,” Zavala commented lightly. “There are those who would say the opposite of me, especially during the Red War.” Guardian snorted softly, turning to meet the Commander head on. Bright orange met with ice blue as they stared each other down.

“When I saw you on Titan, I felt relief.” They had felt calm when Willow announced their arrival to the Rigs, but seeing Zavala walking up to them in the rain made their knees weak and tears well up. “I woke up in the City in a crater. By all rights, I should’ve died when Ghaul kicked me off his ship, but I didn’t. I got my Light back from the shard in the EDZ because a vision told me to, and was given the runaround to help refugees to the Farm. I was told that the City, my home, was gone, and that I shouldn’t go after you, but I did because— because I needed to make sure you were okay.” Guardian tore their eyes away from Zavala’s. Saying things out loud made them too real, and it made Guardian nervous. Added with the fact that they couldn’t read the Titan at all, they were fighting to keep the ball of anxiety stay in the pit of their stomach. “Even if you don’t feel like it, or you think that your time on Titan was a waste, seeing you there gave me a lot of hope. And I really needed it.”

Guardian kept just how much they needed that hope seeing Zavala gave them a secret. In the blur that was those first few days of having their Light back, even hearing the Titan Vanguard was soothing. He made things seem normal, like they could pick themself up from the dirt and move on just because they knew he was alive. He might not have been on Earth, but hearing his voice had been enough.

Zavala had an unreadable expression on his face as he mulled over Guardian’s words. Then, he smiled. Nothing so grand as a full blown grin, or fake as a slight quirk of the corner of his mouth, but an honest smile. The corners of his eyes crinkled slightly, the grooves around his mouth deepened momentarily as he smiled. His eyes seemed to glow a touch brighter, and his posture relaxed marginally. “Thank you, Guardian.”

If Zavala were Shaxx, they’d lean over and slug him in the arm, but he wasn’t and that left Guardian scrambling with what to do with the thanks. They managed to whisper a weak, “You’re welcome,” then looked anywhere but at Zavala.

The conversation stilled, leaving Guardian to grasp at straws. They wondered if they should continue onto a new topic, or let it end where it stopped. This was a moment where they missed having Ira by their side. He was a natural at keeping a conversation going, but he had other matters to attend to and Guardian-

Guardian went off on their own like they always did.

Bad things happened when they went off on their own.

Like apparently the emergence of a Hive Worm God.

The ground below rumbled, rocks and ice cracked as something moved beneath the surface. Guardian watched as the ground splintered and listened to the Hive screech louder and louder in the distance. Xol, it seemed, was not going to wait.

“Do you think I can beat Xol?” They asked softly.

“I have every confidence that you can.”

Guardian’s heart squeezed in their chest, anxiety making their limbs tingle as they imagined what fighting a Worm would be like. Frightening, yes. Necessary, absolutely.

Alone, maybe.

“The EDZ,” they answered. “I tried to find his family, or- or a Ketch, but…” Guardian trailed off, eyes downcast and fingers clutching the fabric of their cloak a little tighter. A small thing found in the rusted carcass of a Golden Age vehicle, no one around for miles on end, the sun in the sky, all components of nostalgia for a simpler time, when the biggest threat was a Fallen Captain ready to kill them as a newly risen Guardian. They couldn’t leave the infant alone.

They couldn’t.

With a soft sigh, Apollo considered the cloak and the Hunter in front of him. Guardian was skittish, ready to bolt and hide, but they wouldn’t because they had someone that relied on them. They were out of their element, unaware of how to proceed, and not thinking of the consequences a well meaning decision like this would bring. He would rather not think of how the Vanguard or the Consensus would come down on Guardian, of how they wouldn’t be able to find the words to fight back. “What do you plan on doing with him?” At Guardian’s look of confusion, he continued. “Do you plan on finding the nearest Captain and handing him over? Or do you plan on keeping him, raising him yourself? Whatever decision you make, Guardian, I’ll help you. No one will know until you’re ready.” And, Traveler willing, he’s had time to prepare as well.

Guardian chewed their bottom lip, eyes darting from Apollo to the door to their bundled cloak and back again. “Help?” Their voice was hushed, on the verge of cracking, and Apollo nodded.

“A name would be appropriate for him first. We can’t just call him pup, or Eliksni, or Fallen. I know there’s a few dictionaries on Eliksni linguistics and naming conventions, perhaps we can-“

“Ozzy,” Guardian cut in shyly.

“Ozzy?” The name threw Apollo off. If Guardian was hoping for a name that would help the infant, he was sure that Ozzy wasn’t it.

“Ozymandias. From the poem you read a while ago.” They held their cloak up higher to their face so Apollo couldn’t see their expression.

Guardian smiled to themself. It wasn’t the first time Ozzy had pretended to sew along with them, and it wouldn’t be the last, but his hands were too small, too unsteady, still. Once he grew they would pass him a needle and show him the stitches used to repair cloaks with a reverence saved for hushed nights under the floating figure of the Traveler. They would teach him how to mend fraying edges just as they were doing now, and how to save the stories and promises in the stitches. And they would show him how to bear those oaths with squared shoulders and an iron spine.

When he was older, of course, and more prepared for the heavy weight of a cloak.

Idly, they wondered what he would have thought about Ozzy. Would he be proud? Curious? Indulgent but weary? Or perhaps something else entirely?

He was nothing at all, Guardian thought. The dead weren’t anything.

“This is not a cloak,” Ozzy said. His words were halting, each word sounded out carefully as they always were. English was not made for young Eliksni mouths, but Ozzy was trying. “Your scarf?”

Guardian hummed an affirming tone, light and short. Their fingers moved mechanically now, allowing half of their attention to be devoted to Ozzy and his questions. “It’s old,” they told him. “It wasn’t mine to begin with, and I’m not using it right.”

“It is a scarf,” Ozzy pointed out. His lower hands made an aborted move to grab Guardian’s work before he tucked his hands against his stomach.

“It wasn’t always one.” There was a time when their scarf was a cowl, granting anonymity to a masked man who had given them a mission. Someone who had believed in them the moment they stepped into his study, fresh from death and marveling at a sleeping God. A man who never minded when they sat with their back to a corner and played with Guardian-less Ghosts. The scarf reminded them of heady incense, of late chess nights, of the whispers in the Light when they looked upon the once sleeping form of the Traveler. “It was a hood.”

“A cloak?”

The image of a cloaked figure rather than a hooded one crossed Guardian’s mind, and they couldn’t contain their amused huff. He might not have minded, but they were sure many others would have. “A cowl,” they corrected gently.

“Whose was it?” So young, and, between Guardian, Hemlock, and Ronin, Ozzy understood the type of promise made by wearing a deceptively weightless item.

Guardian refused to think of a time when Ozzy would wear their cloak, and what kind of promise he would make to them.

For a moment, they were quiet. The frays were repaired mindlessly, the thread being tied off and Guardian used a sharp canine to snap the leftovers off the knot. They wound the thread around the spool, stuck their needle in it, and took it out of Ozzy’s hands to place it on the side table. With a gentleness they save for Ozzy, they turn the scarf inside out to show the white symbol.

“I knew him as the Speaker,” they started. “He wore a mask all the time, and wore a cowl to keep himself a secret. He spoke for the Traveler, so he was always… always kinda serious, but he was kind. He always knew what to say to make me feel better.” All four of Ozzy’s hands held the scarf, eyes focused on the symbol. He chirped, and Guardian continued. “I liked him, still, uh, still do I guess. It hurts, sometimes, to think of him, but it’s because I cared for him.”

“Will the hurt go away?” Ozzy asked.

Guardian sighed through their nose. “I don’t know. I’ll tell you if it does. I think he was always halfway stuck in the Light. He noticed things no one else did.”

“What happened to him?” The trepidation was clear in his voice, as if he knew the ending of the story before he even thought to ask.

“He died,” they plainly said. “He was captured by Ghaul, and he died just before the City was taken back.” Guardian’s voice grew softer, strained, and they hoped Ozzy couldn’t hear them. “He was there, below my feet, and he died alone.”

Ozzy pulled them back with one more question. “What promise did you make?”

Guardian flipped the scarf inside out again, and wrapped it around their neck. They lifted Ozzy up to their shoulder next, not minding how his claws dug into their shirt and scratched their skin. “To always find the road that leads to home.”

Edix didn’t have long in the void. It tore at him, caught on his edges and sunk its claws into his skin. It whispered eternity into his ears, and showed him branching paths that led to glory and ruin and everything in between. The void chimed with an unknown song, growled with hunger, and was a soothing balm all in one. It was everything and nothing at all, and if this is what Ira put himself through for more than a century, then all of his migraines and visions made so much more sense now. Awoken abilities amplified by the call of the void.

There was flashes of gold, and Edix didn’t hesitate to follow them. It hung in the air, mixing with the swirling stars and faraway planets of unknown systems, acting as guiding lights. First starting small and few then growing in number and size until he was sprinting through the mist, already feeling the pull of his body calling him back to reality. His feet hit nothing, but still he moved forward.

He stumbled when he saw Ira in the center of a star system. Planets orbited around him as gold hung about like lanterns. He was sitting on his knees, shoulders relaxed as he held some glowing fragment in his hand, twirling it aimlessly around his fingers.

Edix opened his mouth to call out, but his body forced him back, yanking him from the void to plant him firmly back in reality with Asher leaning over him, worry etched on his face.

He was so close.

The second trip he made into the void was short lived.

Ira was waiting for him.

A hand settled on the small of his back as a tall frame took up the space behind him.

“You shouldn’t be here,” Ira said.

“Where are you?” Edix demanded.

“Nowhere that concerns you. Stay with Asher, keep him alive.” The hand on his back gently pushed him away from the gold, and Edix started twisting around to actually look at Ira. He was stopped by another hand fisting in his hair, forcing him to look straight ahead at the swirling patterns of the void. “Don’t. Go home, Edix.”

“Why?”

“I’m not very nice to look at right now.”

Edix hit the ground with a hiss and a choked off scream, and for the rest of the day couldn’t shake the phantom sensation of a hand on his back.

The next few times it feels like he’s being pushed out of the void. Invisible hands shove him back into his body before he can even begin looking for Ira.

“If you’re going into the void, at least make an anchor,” Asher said, not bothering to help him off the floor. “Ira used me as one for years, so you might as well too.”

Edix wondered if Ira left out the importance of an anchor on purpose so Asher would extend the offer, or if he genuinely believed that Edix wouldn’t follow him through the void.

(“Who else did Ira use as a focal point?”

“Guardian, for one. Roksana. You.”)

Once, he met Guardian in the void.

They clutched his arm, fingers digging into his biceps as they stopped him from forging ahead to search out the flecks of gold.

In the void, Guardian’s voice was smooth, unbothered by the rasp that hung around the edges of their throat. “He’s already gone. You won’t find him this time.”

“Where was he?”

“The forest. But not for long. Osiris chased him away because he was interfering with the simulations.”

Edix felt anger flare in his chest, and the void reacted. The usual calm purple flashed to life. Stars danced around him, faster and faster until they were lines of light, moving energy from one space to the emptiness in his hand.

Guardian was calm, and, faster than Edix could tense his fingers, an arrow was held at his throat. “Not here,” they said. “Be angry somewhere else. Don’t let the void take that from you.”

They guided him back to his body with an arrow pointed at his back. Later, he found them in a cave overlooking the rupture, kicking their heels against the rock.

Ira has eluded him at every turn. The most Edix can ever seem to get is a glimpse now, a shadow of Ira’s figure and fading gold lights. Lights he chased after and studied how they fade from the void, dissipating now that there was nothing to hold them together. The void didn’t attack these patches of gold, nor did it keep them. It was like the void was content with their existence until they ran out of usefulness and let them wither away until Ira stepped foot back into the void and brought the lights back.

On a whim, Edix followed a path of dying lights. It was a thin line, taking him past stars and planets and flashes of Io and Mercury and Venus being converted into Vex planets. Osiris was lost. Guardians died. Ira never showed up once.

The price of witnessing a vision was never seeing oneself in the dream.

He felt a sharp tug, and when he came to, stars hanging at the corners of his eyes, Asher was over him again.

“I cannot stop you from going into the void, nor can I follow you into it, but it’s increasingly tempting to defy the laws of reality to do just that if you insist on losing yourself to the damn thing.” The look Asher gave him was scathing, vex fingers twitching against his chest as he balled his fist at his side. Edix picked himself up from the floor, dusting off his robes, and leveled Asher with a look that had the older Warlock gritting his teeth so hard the muscles in his jaw jumped. Concern flashed over his face for a split second, and for the life of him, Edix couldn’t figure out why.

“He’s there,” Edix said. If his voice was flatter than usual, he didn’t notice. “I’ve seen him, Asher. He can’t slip away from me forever.”

“As long as you don’t slip away either,” Asher growled, and left him alone.

The void was filled with gold.

It looked like a star exploded.

Guardian crossed on debris like the rocks in a river, grabbed the back of Edix’s robes, and pulled him away from the epicenter.

The Hunter answered the question that had been forming in his head. “Ira got into a fight, and he got frustrated. The void will be normal in a bit.”

“What was he fighting?”

Guardian shrugged.

“Why are you here?”

They smiled and shrugged again. “Same reason as you. But I’m having an easier time of it I think. You’re getting empty.”

“Empty?” Edix thought back to the warning Asher gave a day ago. Or was it a few hours? Definitely not a month though.

Guardian let go of his robes, and twirled around Edix until they were standing in front of him, stars catching on the hem of their cloak. Their eyes glowed bright orange, as if they stole suns from the centers of star systems, and the purple of their skin faded seamlessly into the void.

They looked like they belonged in the void, a part of it rather than a visitor.

“The void takes,” they said. “And you keep giving it things to take.” Slowly, giving Edix ample opportunity to pull away, they grabbed his hand and entwined their fingers. They led him past the gold, the swirling vortex that he didn’t see before, and the frayed paths that were left behind.

Guardian was gentle when they placed him back into his body, and when he opened his eyes, he saw their shadowy figure walk up beside Asher before vanishing.

Edix didn’t meditate for several days.

Edix was well and truly stuck and he didn’t even realize it.

How long had it been since he entered the void again?

But he was so close. Ira left behind paths he could follow, and so he did. One spectral foot in front of the other, fingers brushing past hanging golden lights. Stars glittered all around him, and he could plot their patterns far easier now than when he had first started sticking himself into the void.

He wondered if Ira could move so easily.

Ira found him on accident.

The look on his face struck a chord in Edix. Brow furrowed, eyes bright in the dark purple of the void, and he didn’t know why.

Ira’s hands passed through him, and then he left. Edix rushed after him, but, he was gone in a flash of stars and gold lights.

He found Ira again. He was standing at the precipice of the Vault of Glass, back to him, and his robes more ragged and torn up than he had ever seen him wear. Despite how easily he moved through the void, Edix couldn’t reach him.

“Go back, Edix. Just, go back,” Ira said, barely turning his head to look over his shoulder.

“Hello, Rosie,” he mumbled, looking down at the wrinkly cat in her usual red sweater, and completely missed the sharp glare Asher aimed at him over his shoulder. He picked her up, not caring when she dug her claws into his shirt as she hauled herself up to rub her head under his chin, he merely shifted his grip to support her better, and entered the room properly. Instead of standing beside Asher like he normally would, he chose to sit in one of the three wheeled chairs in the room, and hooked his foot around another to bring it closer to Asher. If there was anything he could remember about the Warlock, it was his workaholic tendencies and ability to ignore basic care. He didn’t ask for Asher to sit, and in return wasn’t asked where he had gone.

“So,” Asher started, returning his attention back to his console, “Edix managed to bring you back.”

“I came back willingly.”

Asher stopped typing for a split second before beginning again in earnest, as if making up for lost time. “You left.”

“Gathering data?” Ira shot back.

“I’m attempting to form a hypothesis,” Asher growled. “One of my partners left in the early morning without a word, sending the other into a nigh panicked state, calling everyone we both could think of in order to figure out where you went. All of this for seemingly no reason that I can fathom when usually you’re the one desperate to stay on Io. So I can’t help but wonder why, but unlike Edix, I won’t patiently wait for an answer. Either tell me now, or leave if you’re so adamant.”

Rosie purred loudly in Ira’s ear, but the only thing he could focus on was how long Asher had to mull over the question. He wasn’t gone for long, only a few days at most, something he’s done before many times, and then his mind halts. The realization that the frustration bleeding off of Asher has been in the making for months blooms, and finally Ira understood.

This was a culmination of all the times Asher was left alone on Io because of his own selfish reasons. Ira’s gut twisted painfully as he came to terms that there was no decent reason he could give Asher. They were all excuses. Following his instinct wasn’t a valid response. Neither was the burn that settled across his skin when he felt the thirst for vengeance across the system. These were things he should have control over, that he did have control over, not hide behind when he was confronted with a life that was no longer his.

“Well?” Asher snapped, drawing Ira out of his own head.

“I was scared,” he blurted out. “And jealous. Of myself. My past self. He was the one you and Edix fell in love with. He was someone who could legitimately help you in your research of the Vex. I can’t. I ran because I was scared.”

A weight was lifted from his chest as he spoke honestly, whatever had been clenching his lungs and making him teeter on the verge of dry sobbing finally let go. He didn’t know why the Ira he used to be fell in love with Asher, but this was why he did. So few people were willing to cut straight to the problem with him with an accuracy that stung out of fear of angering him. With Edix their conversations were (mostly) calm, eased into until they fell into a teasing camaraderie that they would turn to the third member of their relationship, both enjoying cracking at the hard exterior. With Asher though, there was no hesitation with his barbed tongue and sharp mind as he tore through Ira’s defenses and laid him out bare before soothing the ache in his own prickly way.

There were things Asher feared, yes, but his sin of a partner, the embodiment of Wrath and vengeance, was not one of them.

Asher was quiet when he responded, a look on his face that Ira couldn’t understand. “You haven’t changed at all. You still get angry when you’re scared, and when you don’t know where to direct that anger you run.” Asher turned away from the console after saving his work, leaning his hip against his equipment and fixing Ira with a cold stare. “You’ve done it for as long as I’ve known you, and it seems that losing your memory hasn’t changed that.”

“You remember more than me,” he muttered, finally meeting Asher’s gaze. The bags under his eyes had grown worse, and guilt pierced Ira’s chest. He willed the feeling away, tired of dealing with them, and continued speaking. “Guardian said the same thing about me being scared and angry. Does the same thing apply to jealousy?”

The noise Asher made was low in his throat, incredulous and questioning, as if he never expected to hear Ira imply he was envious of anything. “You? Jealous?” He scoffed. “I was surprised that you weren’t Pride given you proclivity for rushing ahead because you thought you could handle everything. So sure of your own strength and knowledge. Well,” the fingers of Asher’s Vex arm twitched, “I suppose you and I shared that trait.”

“Perhaps we still do.”

“Hardly. Second to your pride was your anger, but you kept it hidden. You never took insults well.” He ignored the quiet, “Neither do you,” Ira mumbled, though he speared him with a sharp glare. “But most of the time your anger was directed at anything unknown, as if it were a particularly vexing puzzle that existed solely for you rage at. It took years for me to understand that your anger was a by product of fear. All the time you spent searching for answers of both Light and Darkness was because you were afraid.”

Ira had to grit his teeth, almost fearful of asking, “Afraid of what?”

“Dying,” Asher stated matter of factly. “Particularly of anyone you love dying. When you visited me in the hospital after Brakion took my arm, you were furious to a point where you experienced void burn.”

Did he? Ira clenched a hand, searching for a phantom pain of void eating away at his skin. Or maybe it stayed internal, consuming his organs until he had to be revived. He clearly remembered Brakion though. The mad dash to the center of the Pyramidion with Edix hot on his tail, ripping apart Vex and clashing with the Genesis Mind to a point where the planet shook. He made Edix carry pieces of Brakion back with them, presenting Asher with the right arm of the Mind, mouth still curled into a snarl. The aftermath saw him in shackles for days until he shoved the vengeance he took from Asher into a small box in the back of his mind to never be opened again.

Ira heaved a sigh, moved Rosie to his shoulder, and held a hand out. Without looking Asher placed his flesh and blood hand in his, and he curled his fingers around it, rubbing his thumb over the back in monotonous circles. “I’m sorry for running,” he said, soft and sincere. “I can’t say that I won’t up and leave again, but I can at least promise it won’t be over a crisis of self.” He smiled at Asher’s eye roll. “I love you, Asher. I know I did before, and I still do now. For the foreseeable future, and even further than that, I’m sure I’ll love you then too.”

Asher studied his face for a long moment, and Ira stared back. Whatever the Warlock was looking for he found, and his scowl eased into a sort of half smile. Ira’s heart leaped in his chest, ecstatic to receive such a thing. “Even without your memories you still enjoy useless declarations of affection,” Asher sighed.

Most would take the sigh at face value, miss the veiled tenderness entirely, but Ira heard the adoration in it and smiled wide.  Rosie purred loudly on his shoulder, as if she was happy with the outcome as well.

Without even glancing to the doorway, Asher raised his voice enough to be heard and called, “Edix! Stop hiding outside the door. Come in or leave, I don’t need you stalking my lab like some meddlesome goblin.” From outside the door came an indignant squawk, and Edix’s head appeared in the doorway, nose wrinkling as he pouted.

Ira’s smile became a grin as Edix shuffled into the room, pushing the third chair along with him as he made his way to his partners. Rosie climbed from Ira’s shoulder to Edix’s once he sat down, and Asher turned back to his computer with a grumble, taking his hand out of Ira’s.

“Were you out there the whole time?” Ira whispered.

“No. Maybe. I just wanted to make sure you two talked!”

“What? Afraid we’d use our mouths for some other activity without inviting you?” Ira laughed at Edix’s sputtering and graciously took the heated glare from Asher for such a comment.