#no20

“Still … It’s too painful to even think about it. I don’t want to live without you.”

“I know. And I feel the same. But we will die eventually.”

Evan sighs. “I almost died way too many times. Now, I want to live.”

“And we will. We will live,” Tommy assures, reaching for Evan’s hand and giving it a gentle squeeze. “I can’t wait to spend my life with you. But we still should talk about death from time to time.”

Evan buries his face in the crook of Tommy’s neck, almost as if he’s trying to hide. “Alright,” he mutters. “But not right now, okay? Not right now.”

2

Tommy is tired. He is tired of walking through the ever-same hallway. Tired of entering the room. Tired of the silence. Tired of the brightness and the smell.

He looks at his husband. And it’s not really his husband. It’s a shell that looks like him. A ghost. Barely breathing. Machines keep him alive. A mess of tubes and wires.

Tommy sits and sighs, reaching out to take Evan’s cold hand. It doesn't feel real either.

Oh, what Tommy would give for this to be a nightmare. A nightmare from which he will wake up any second. He wants their life back.

But it's not a dream. This is happening.

Evan, his beautiful caring strong Evan, saved someone and when it was time to save himself, it was too late. He fell so deep. He fell deep and when he finally landed, he was broken. The 118 managed to get him out breathing. But he didn't wake up. Not this time. No matter how much they all beg and hope and cry. He doesn't wake up.

Tommy always thought he would go first. A helicopter crash. Most likely. He didn't expect Evan to be the first to fall. But now here they are, with Evan fading in a hospital bed.

Beep. Beep. Beep.

Tommy grips Evan's hand. I wish I could pull you back into life.

“Evan,” he says. Like always, it sounds like a prayer on his lips. But it remains unanswered.

3

“Evan …”

“You could have died, Tommy!”

“Yes. I could have. We could die all the time. Every day.”

“Still … You can’t be so careless! I can’t stand the thought of losing you. Don’t do this again!”

“Help save the day?”

“Tommy …”

“Okay. Okay, I’m sorry. I will be more careful. Come here.”

“I was scared …”

“I know. I’m okay. I’m here.”

4 Beep. Beep. Beep. A tear falls on Evan's hand.

“Evan," Tommy whispers. "It’s okay. I know you always said that if one of us must die, it would be better if it were me. Because I would be a mess without you. And ... and I know you're right. I'm already falling apart. But ... but it's okay. If you have to go, you can. You can let go. I will be alright."

Evan wanted to die doing what he loved. Or of old age. "Together," he said once. "Together would be best, right? That way no one would have to figure out to go on alone ..."

But life seldom gives you what you want.

"It's okay," Tommy repeats, pressing Evan's hand to the side of his face. The ghost of a touch. "I will figure it out. Don't worry about me."

5

“I think I would want to be cremated.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. I read too many facts about decomposition.”

“Oh, Evan … I will have to listen to them now, won’t I?”

“Of course.”

6

“Tommy?”

“Yes. I … I just need a moment.”

“Tommy, it’s been almost a whole night. Come on. You have to get some rest.”

“I can’t leave him, Howie.”

“He’s gone, Tommy. I’m sorry. But you can’t stay here forever. You know that. They will take care of him now, okay?”

And Tommy gets it. He really gets it. The hospital sees a room they can use for someone else now. Some other shell. He’s still holding Evan’s hand. He can’t let go. He can’t leave him alone. But then, his eyes wander up to Evan’s face. It’s so still. He’s never been that still. 

And that’s when he truly gets it.

His husband is gone.

A sob echoes in the room. He only realises it came from him when the tears are coming. When Howie hugs him and gently makes him let go of Evan's hand.

7

“A tree.”

“Hm?”

“I want to be buried close to a tree.”

“Why?”

“It feels right. Trees see so much life and death. And I imagine it would be nice to have leaves fall down on my grave. Squirrels sleeping above me. Birds building a nest …”

“Yes. It’s a nice image, Evan.”

“What about you?”

“I just want to be close to you.”

8

Autumn painted the world in yellow and red. The leaves are falling. Tumbling to the ground where they cover older leaves and their colour slowly fades. They make crunching noises under Tommy’s boots as he walks over the graveyard, approaching the tree under which they buried Evan.

It’s a beautiful tree. Big and strong. Old. There are always animals climbing up the trunk or sitting on the branches. Squirrels and martens. Crows and blackbirds. The tree is full of life. Evan would have loved that.

Tommy sits on the blanket he brought. He hugs his knees to his chest and stares at the gravestone. It still hurts so much. A constant ache in his chest. Evan’s voice is haunting his mind. Sometimes, he still wakes up and expects to see Evan’s face - only to remember. 

Grief comes in waves, Bobby told him. They are talking a lot. About Evan. About grief. About the future. It helps.

Tommy is grateful. He’s never really alone. Their family is going through this together.

But sometimes, he has to be alone. Alone with Evan.

He sighs and rubs at his eyes. It’s astonishing how many tears the body can produce. So often Tommy thinks he doesn’t have any more left. And then he cries again. He smiles at the gravestone and takes a deep breath.

Panic filled Setsumi’s chest, squeezing off the air that her lungs so desperately needed. The cavern was darker than she’d expected it to be, and the water distorted light and made it difficult to judge distances. Genma moved through the murk with a comfort and ease that made Setsumi jealous. When he’d said that he could complete this easier if he didn’t have to look after her, Setsumi had rolled her eyes and said she’d be fine. Now, she wished she’d listened.

The cave grew darker, swallowing everything but the pinprick of light from Setsumi’s headlamp. That was another thing that she’d argued with Genma about, only to find out that he was right. Setsumi had thought the warm sunlight that danced on the blue water would penetrate almost the entire way through the cave. She and Genma had covered maybe a third of the distance to their destination, if that, and it was black as pitch. This was a stupid mission from the beginning, Setsumi groused internally. If I die here, I’m going to haunt Hokage-sama for the rest of his miserable life.

Setsumi drew another shallow breath through the mechanism that Genma had taught her to use five minutes before they walked into the cave. She tried not to think about how it was the only thing keeping her alive or the fact that she was surrounded. If she had second thoughts about swimming into an underwater grotto and wanted to leave, there was no way out except to continue. The thought made her skin crawl. Part of being a good shinobi was knowing where the escape routes were at all times. But here, she’d be trapped.

A flash of silver swirled the water in front of Setsumi, then something brushed her cheek. Jerking away, her head connected with the stone above. Setsumi cried out; warm, salty water flooded into her mouth. She twisted, grabbing for the respirator, but she couldn’t find it. Her light didn’t penetrate the grit and haze that she’d kicked up in her struggle. Genma had warned Setsumi about that, too. She couldn’t see him. He’d taken the lead and was a decent way ahead of her. It could be minutes before he realized that she wasn’t following any longer.

Stars sparkled in Setsumi’s vision. The burn in her lungs tripled while her mind tried to remember how long it could survive without air. A vice closed on Setsumi’s wrist, and she struck out blindly. Her fingers raked through something too soft to be stone, and the touch fell away. It returned a second time, dragging her to the ground by her shoulders. Setsumi kicked and fought, fingers finding purchase a second time. One arm slipped out of her assailant's grip.

Darkness threatened more urgently, gnawing at Setsumi’s consciousness. Something closed over her mouth, warm and pliable. Breath filled her lungs, and she swallowed the air and water as one, choking on it. The seal around her lips didn’t move so she exhaled through her nose. The dizziness receded. A second, fuller breath filled Setumi’s mouth and she drank it greedily.

The hand on Setsumi’s shoulder moved, she recognized the feeling now. Then, the mouth over hers disappeared. Before she could think to protest something was forced against her lips. They opened reflexively and she drew a complete breath. Her vision cleared enough to notice the painfully bright light inches from her face, then Genma’s mask even closer. He waved a hand to get her attention, then pointed to his mouth. Setsumi tried to figure out why it looked strange, then realized it was visible.

Genma held up his respirator, then closed his mouth around it. His hand tapped the one in Setsumi’s lips and flashed a thumbs up. Setsumi pulled another breath into her panic filled lungs, then repeated the sign. With a nod, Genma hooked something from his belt to hers and started moving away. The tug of his presence was more reassuring than she cared to admit.

Ten minutes later, the water grew shallow and Genma pulled himself onto a rough ledge. He offered a hand to Setsumi, and she collapsed next to him, resisting the urge to kiss the salty stone. Genma packed away their gear, then looked up. “You good?”

Setsumi’s mouth dropped open. Four long, angry gashes down Genma’s left cheek. “What happened to you?”

“A crazy woman tried to drown me because she panicked.” Genma flashed the type of smile that made most women weak in the knees. It morphed into a smirk. “You left some on my shoulders, too.”

The suggestive lilt in Genmas tone made Setsumi roll her eyes. Then, she remembered the breath that he’d shared and the risks he’d taken to save her. Genma joked about it now, but she could have killed them both. “I’m sorry,” Setsumi began, hating the meekness in her voice. “You were right— ”

“About time you admitted that,” Genma interrupted. He waved off Setsumi’s huff of annoyance, and nodded behind him. “But, we’ve wasted enough time. Let’s get going, we have a deadline to meet.”