#numbered days

Van looks up from what they’re doing, then, the light glinting off their goggles. They meet Styx’s eyes, and that’s also strange; Styx has lived here for months, known Van for longer, and made eye contact enough times to count on one hand. Van pays enough attention to pick up on the signs Styx communicates with, but it’s hard enough to get them to stop working even to eat or sleep. When Van raises a hand to take their goggles off, and when they look Styx directly in the face, Styx feels in their core what goes unsaid: this is serious.

They walk closer, the exhaustion forgotten for now. If Van needs to talk, Styx wants to hear what they have to say. “I have to stop?” they sign, emphasizing the question mark at the end.

“I know what you’ve been doing,” Van says. Of course they do -- Styx hasn’t been trying to hide it. “The derelicts. Exposing yourself to more of the Infestation. You’ve been going out more and more often, and you’re going to need to stop.”

“Why?” Styx signs. They’re confused. To their knowledge, it hasn’t been getting in Van’s way when they leave. They haven’t been missing anything important, and they always make it clear that they’re gone, just in case something happens. “I’m helping people. I’m saving lives. What’s the problem, here?”

“You’re destroying yours,” Van says. “You’re vulnerable. I’ve told you this before -- the Infestation already has a foothold in you.” Van gestures to their face, and Styx reaches up to their own chin, feeling the familiar scarring underneath their jaw. “Just because it isn’t killing you now doesn’t mean it won’t start later. I’ve told you.” And Van does hate repeating themself.

“Would you rather I leave those people to die?” Styx asks. They don’t want this to turn into an argument, but an indignant feeling is rising in their chest. When the motions of their signs get tense, Styx doesn’t try very hard to stop it. “Just because I might be in danger from it in the future?”

“Yes,” Van says. Styx doesn’t understand how their face can be so expressionless. “I want you to stop. You’re beginning to reach the point where I won’t be able to help you any longer, and if you reach that point it will kill you.” Bad news, delivered like it doesn’t mean anything. Like Van is making a suggestion, not issuing an order. Like they don’t care if Styx does what they say or not, even though every single piece of this scenario speaks to the power of Van’s feelings on the matter.

“I’m saving lives,” Styx repeats, trying to calm down as they realize what Van is doing. This is a difficult conversation, made harder by the emotion involved, but Styx can’t seem to separate themself from their feelings as well as Van can. “Is my life really worth more than all the people trapped on those ships? Would you really prefer it if I live at the cost of hundreds?” They leave their hands in the air where they fall for emphasis, a gesture for so many lives.

“Yes, your life is worth more,” Van hisses -- a break in their composure. They take a breath, but there’s still anger in their face when they continue. “You’re Tenno. You’re the only one who can control your Warframe -- without you, she becomes a wild monster, a danger to us all. If you just avoided the Infestation and took different missions, you could save just as many lives -- more, because you’d last longer.” A beat passes, and then the anger on their face collapses, revealing the grief hidden behind it. “And you’re my friend, and I don’t want you to die.”

Van looks away, then, choosing something off to the side to stare at instead of Styx. 

“I’m not dying,” Styx signs, momentarily thrown by the implication. Their health has never been better -- they’re tired when they return from missions, but that’s to be expected. All the problems they normally look out for have been quiet in recent months, ever since they moved permanently into Van’s dojo.

“You are,” Van sighs. The expression on their face is grim when they drag their eyes back to Styx. “I’ve been running numbers. Tracking your condition. I don’t know if it’s the Warframe’s influence or if you’ve run across something especially dangerous out there, but it doesn’t look good for you.”

“What does that mean?” Styx asks. “Whatever it is, surely you can fix it. You’ve kept the Infestation from killing Clava, and she’s half-gone.”

“Clava doesn’t insist on exposing herself to aggressive strains of a disease we don’t understand,” Van growls. “Do you know how hard it is to beat something that mutates every time I look away? Each and every time you come back, it’s with something different, and I don’t think it’s a puzzle I can solve if you keep letting it change. If you stopped now, there’s a chance I could save you.”

“I won’t,” Styx signs, only realizing the words the moment after. Something settles into place in their mind, an idea that has probably always been there in some capacity. “If I’m dying either way, why should I stop doing what I’m doing?”

“There’s a chance--”

“Only a chance,” Styx interrupts. “A chance that will cost hundreds of lives that I can save if I continue. Nobody else is doing what I do. Nobody else can track the Infestation like I can, and nobody else is there to fill the place I leave. I’m not going to let those people die on a chance, Van.”

Van is silent for some time, but Styx waits. They’re certain about this decision, more certain than they expected to be, and they need Van to understand that. Van stares down at the work they’d forgotten when Styx had entered the room, but nothing in their eyes seems to register. They aren’t really looking. Long minutes pass, and Styx notices a shimmer over Van’s eyes, like held-back tears.

There’s an ache in Styx’s chest as they realize what they’ve just said. They’ve told one of their only friends that they don’t care about their own well-being; they would rather sacrifice themself than try to find a new solution. To Van, that must sound unconscionable; Van has saved lives by manipulating the Infestation, and Styx is refusing them a chance to do that.

Finally, Van speaks. “We can find someone else to fill your shoes,” they say, quieter than they’d been speaking before. “You can... you can tell them where to go, and they can deal with it, and you won’t have to. Lives saved, but without the cost of yours.” Your life matters to me, Van doesn’t say, but Styx hears it.

Styx’s composure wavers. “Do you really think we’ll find another Tenno willing to take these missions?” they ask, hesitant to even entertain the idea. “It’s dangerous. It’s unrewarding. They would need to be willing to live here, ready to go out on a moment’s notice, and they would need to be able to handle themselves around the Infestation better than I can. Does someone like that exist?”