#teo dagger

“Hey, new kid.”

Not a very creative introduction.

“What’s your name?”

She set down her sandwich on the plate, looked up, as if she had just now noticed him. “Fey”, she responded.

“Fey what?”

She told him the name they had given her when they had brought her to the town.

“S’weird”, the boy said. “Didn’t know that family had any more children.”

“If you want an explanation on where children come from, you should ask your biology teacher”, Fey said.

“Very funny. But you gotta admit, a teen just showing up in a family that’s only ever had three kids, that’s kinda weird, isn’t it?”

“They’re my third cousins twice removed”, Fey passed on the lines she’d been told. “They adopted me.”

“Why’s that? Where’s your parents?”

“They’re dead.” She stared directly into his eyes as she said it, hoping to make him uncomfortable enough to leave. Without success.

“How’d they die?”

She had been given a story, of course, an easy story, both to remember and to believe. Easy to swallow lies. First and foremost, she’d been taught how to respond to such a question: That it was none of his business, that he was making her uncomfortable, and she didn’t have to talk about it.

You don’t have to talk about it, was a phrase she had heard again and again in the last weeks. From the people who had brought her here. The family who took her in. Except when she did have to. When the city watch had a million questions. When she saw her therapist once a week. Like she had to open her brains for anyone to prod at them as they pleased, and then close right back up when her feelings were too much to bear for the people around her. Why should she let them decide which lies to tell?

“There was a break-in”, she said. “I don’t know what they wanted, they never said. They attacked my Dad, wounded him lethally. Would have gone at me as well, but my Pops – he used to be a soldier, you gotta know – he got between us and the attackers. Killed one of them, so the others ran away. There was blood everywhere, and pieces of the body. I saw – “ She stopped. This was getting too close. “But Dad died from the wound, we only had time to say goodbye to him. And Pops had gotten hurt as well and it got badly infected. He died in the hospital a week later. I was holding his hand and…” Making her voice tremble wasn’t all that difficult, barely any pretence necessary. All she had to do was imagine her fathers in front of her, telling her they loved her, and meaning it, both of them.

The boy’s voice interrupted her thoughts. “You’re a liar, Fey”, he said. “My mum said your parents both died of a plague and that’s why you’re here, and that we shouldn’t get too close in case you’re still contagious. Though she also said we shouldn’t tell you that because you’re probably sad right now.”

Fey gritted her teeth. “Then why don’t you listen to your stupid mother instead of getting on my nerves? Maybe ask her to teach you some manners as well, since she’s already raised you to be a tactless waste of space that bullies traumatized little girls.”

The expression in the boy’s face changed from smug indifference to utter offense. “You –“

“And you’re right”, she interrupted. “I lied. My Pops didn’t die. When he saw them kill his husband in front of him, he went mad. Killed all of them. As I said, blood everywhere, and guts and body parts, it was horrible. For them, I mean. And when the city watch arrived, he attacked them as well in his rage, but they fought back of course, and so he ran away. So they got me a new home, seeing as my Dad was dead and my Pops disappeared. But you know what I think? I think Pops is still out there. I think he watches over me. He’s crazy now, at least that’s what they say, so he might just attack anyone who’s mean to me.”

The boy stared at her, brow furrowed, trying to keep the tough look on his face. “That didn’t happen.”

“Call me a liar.” She stood up from the bench, picking up the plate. “I think remembering all of that made me lose my appetite, so thanks for that.”

“You are a liar”, the boy said, the grin on his face barely hiding his uncertainty. “And a bloody creep as well.”

A scream in the night made Morpheus look up from his reading. It wasn’t a loud scream, certainly not loud enough to wake anyone. In fact, the only reason it had been audible at all was that it was perfectly silent in the library, the soft sound of book pages turning being the only thing to disrupt it. But while it wasn’t loud, it did sound desperate, maybe even more so. It sounded like someone was hurt, and badly, like someone could barely get enough air in their lungs to scream for help.

Morpheus immediately got up from his desk and hastened down the corridor between the high bookshelves, taking off his reading glasses on his way. As soon as he stepped out into the hallway outside the library, he spotted the origin of the scream: Another monk, an elf woman, on hands and knees on the floor. Her wide robes were green, but stained red with her blood, just like the floor behind her, where she must have first stumbled and then crawled, judging by the drops and smears.

“Don’t move!” Morpheus called out and ran over to her. When she heard his words, she looked up in fear at first, but then her features slacked in relief as she recognized him as a fellow monk. Morpheus kneeled beside her. He knew the woman only by looks, had seen her often in the meditation room or talked to her during a meal, but he couldn’t remember her name right now, and the shock of the situation didn’t help.

He spotted the reason for the blood immediately: Multiple deep slashes on her arm, her hip and a smaller gash into her chest. Following the trail of blood she had left with his eyes, which was going far beyond the curve in the hallway, he was astounded that she had even made it that far. She was still clutching her shortsword.

He directed his attention at the monk again. “It’s going to be okay,” he murmured while he summoned healing magic into his hands and then touched her gently. She gave out a sigh as her wounds closed, not completely healed, but at least no longer a threat to her life.

“What happened?” he asked.

“Someone attacked me,” she said, the disbelief in her voice just as big as the one in his mind.

“In the monastery?”

She nodded.

“A monk?”

She shook her head. “Nobody in our garbs. And I didn’t recognize him.”

He shook his head as well. They were both thinking the same thing: It was impossible for anyone to get into the monastery without the monks’ knowledge. Nobody even knew where it was located, and the residents only brought their personal guests, whom they trusted. Besides, who would break into the monastery and brutally attack a seemingly random monk?

Morpheus looked at what was left of her wounds. He bit his lip. “What did they want?”

“He – he wanted me to lead him to someone…”

“Who?”

“Couldn’t say. I got away before he could go on. Got my shortsword between his armor plates and ran off.” She gripped his robes. “We have to do something!”

“What did he look like?”

“Big, many scars. He wears black armor and a tattered coat. Wields a greataxe.”

Morpheus nodded along to the description, having already half expected it – as much as he had hoped to be proven wrong – but then he faltered at the weapon.

“Here’s what we’re going to do,” he heard himself say. “You are going to look for the guards, tell them what happened and send them where you last saw him. And then you get to a proper healer. I’m going to go look for that intruder right now. Where did he attack you?”

He expected her to argue, to tell him he shouldn’t go on his own, but maybe due to the blood loss, she just nodded and gave him the directions and then hastened away.

“Tell them to bring holy water, if they have any!” he called after her right before she disappeared around a corner. Then he drew his rapier, cast Pass Without Trace, and set off. He followed the monk’s directions, but didn’t even need them, as he simply had to follow the drops of blood she had left behind.

Teo Dagger. In the monastery. Not for the first time in his life, Morpheus asked why it had to be him of all people. He was beginning to wonder if it was his destiny, his curse, to always be confronted with this maniac. What was he even doing here? For that matter, what was Morpheus doing? Why didn’t he wait for the guards?

Because, he answered himself, any minute that nobody did anything could be an innocent monk dead at Teo’s hands. He realized with some concern for his own mental well-being that he thought he could not just beat Teo, but even talk sense into him. Which was ridiculous. He had only met him twice so far, but he knew that there was little else in his head but murder and violence, that he probably wouldn’t even let Morpheus utter a sentence before he went at him with his beloved greataxe.

Still, he knew that Teo wasn’t completely beyond reason. He had witnessed that himself. The question was if Morpheus could achieve something only a deity of madness had done so far, or if his determination would only end in his death. He could try at least. Unlike any other person in the monastery, he knew Teo, knew at least a bit of what made him tick. He had seen him hesitate, had even seen him do something good for a change. He had seen him cry.

After two minutes of running down the hallways and a long flight of stairs, and then down a corridor again, the blood trail ended, as did the directions of the monk. Morpheus gripped the rapier tighter and looked around, but nobody was there. He didn’t know what he had expected. Teo waiting for him here, Dex already raised for an attack?

Morpheus’ tail was whipping around nervously. He didn’t even know what Teo wanted here. He was apparently looking for someone. Probably to kill them. Definitely to kill them. There wasn’t really any other reason for Teo to get interested in someone.

His investigations of the surroundings lead Morpheus to some different blood splatters on the ground, separate from the ones of the monk. He remembered that she had stabbed him. There weren’t many stains, but they led in the direction of another flight of stairs leading downwards and then ended there. Since it was his only lead, Morpheus went down, more careful now.

It was getting darker, as places that far down weren’t usually kept lit during the night. That could be to Morpheus’ advantage. Unlike Teo, he could see in the dark. Maybe he could get the drop on him. He reached the end of the stairs and looked around. Still no sign of any living (or undead) person, but when he turned left, he noticed a doorway, the heavy iron door standing wide open, as was the grating behind that.

It was only then that Morpheus realized how far down in the castle he was. He must be close to the cellars now, and that door was one of the few that led farther down into the bowels of the monastery, far below ground. He had never been there, few people had, but he had heard stories of them. Was this how Teo had been able to get into the monastery unnoticed? But that was impossible. From what he had heard, the tunnel system was a labyrinth, which only few monks knew how to traverse. And Morpheus knew Teo well enough to know he didn’t have the smarts or patience to find the way on his own. Morpheus felt a coldness grip for his heart. Had someone helped him get in?

Then another shock took hold of him, as a blood-curdling scream echoed through the hallway. It felt like an ice spell had been cast on his stomach, cold shudders running through him, paralyzing him for a moment. It was hard to judge with how distorted from pain it was, but the voice sounded so familiar. But that couldn’t be, it just couldn’t.

Shaking off the shock after what felt like an eternity, Morpheus dashed into the direction the scream had come from, away from the open door, down the hallway, towards a left turn.

And all the while he was thinking of the half-elf who was probably, hopefully, sleeping nested in a bed of pillows in the big sleeping chamber, or lying awake, impatiently waiting for him to finally finish his work in the library, but either way he was safe, surrounded by people who could protect him, he had to be, because if he wasn’t –

Morpheus turned around the corner, rapier drawn in front of him and then he froze up. It was only now that he realized how much he had hoped he was wrong, both about the origin of the scream and about what kind of monster would be waiting for him down here. But of course, as so often, he was disappointed.

Teo was standing with his back to him, his grimy coat already soaked in blood. And pressed to the stone wall by the handle of the axe whose blade was cutting into his shoulder, blood streaming from a gash on his face and sticking his hair to his scalp, was Gwydion.

Morpheus had clasped his left hand over his mouth. He felt like throwing up. His whole body was shaking.

Teo had not noticed him yet, too deeply focused on his work, but now Gwydion’s eyes darted over to Morpheus, and for just a moment shock and fear replaced the pain on his face. Teo tilted his head and then turned a little to look behind him, still fixing Gwydion to the wall with Dex. The maniacal grin on his lips spread even wider when he saw Morpheus. He twisted the axe blade around a bit, making Gwyn scream again.

The scream tore Morpheus out of his stupor. His mind was racing and then finally he touched his arcane focus and yelled: “Don’t hurt him – or me. I am here to talk.” The magic rang in his voice, twisting itself into Teo’s head, who looked annoyed for a moment, and then yanked his weapon away from Gwydion. The half-elf slumped to the floor, holding his bleeding shoulder, and breathing heavily.

“Morpheus, get away!” he yelled.

Morpheus kept his eyes trained on Teo, who was looking at him impatiently.

“What are you doing here?” Morpheus asked. “I thought you were supposed to be trapped in the Abyss. Or…” His eyes shot to Dex, who Teo was holding almost tenderly, running his fingers over the bloody steel. “I thought you would only get him back once you were worthy of him.” Or once he had found a way out of the deal he had struck. None of this made any sense.

“I was sent here for a hitjob,” Teo explained, and left it at that.

“On whom?” Morpheus asked.

Teo grinned. “You.”

Maybe he was just out of shits to give for that night, but this time Morpheus’ reaction wasn’t shock, but blank confusion. “Me? Why would anyone have me killed?”

Teo shrugged. “I’m not here to ask questions, just to kill you.”

“This doesn’t make sense,” Morpheus said. “Last time I saw you… you gave up Dex. You gave up… I thought something had changed.”

Now it was Teo who looked confused. “You didn’t actually believe that, did you?” He laughed dryly. “To be honest, I don’t think I’m capable of changing.” For a moment, Morpheus thought he saw something else in Teo’s face, muted even below his usual barely existing expressions. It distracted him enough that he only realized what Gwydion was doing when it was too late.

The half-elf had disappeared into the shadows on the floor and then reappeared in the shadow Teo was casting, a dagger in his hand.

“Stop!” Morpheus shouted, but it was already too late. Gwydion went for Teo’s neck, but Teo turned around at the last second so the blade stabbed into his shoulder instead. He sucked in the air with what sounded more like satisfaction than pain, grin spreading on his lips again, as the attack broke the control that Morpheus’ spell had over his brain.

Teo swung Dex around and hit Gwydion in the stomach. Blood splattered on the stone floor and walls, on Teo’s face, soaked Gwydion’s blue garbs. He was thrown back against the wall by the impact, his eyes rolling back into his head, but he was still alive. Before he could fall to the floor again, Teo had gripped into his long hair and yanked it to pull him up. With one hand, he raised the axe.

“Stop!” Morpheus screamed again, more desperate this time.

“Don’t worry,” Teo said without lifting his eyes from Gwydion’s face. “I’ll get to you in a minute.”

“I’ll let you do anything you want to me, but please, leave him alone!” Tears were running down his face.

Now Teo looked up, glancing between him and Gwydion. “Who is he to you?”

Morpheus remembered a moment at the shore of the ice-cold lake at the edges of the Abyss. “He’s everything I have.”

Teo stared at Morpheus. He lowered Dex. Morpheus sobbed. Then, still looking Morpheus in the eyes, Teo sliced the blade into Gwyn’s chest, splitting bones and organs. Gwyn’s death scream almost got lost in the wail coming out of Morpheus’ own throat now, but at the edges of his mind, he could still make out a garbled “run!”.

And he ran. Teo was right behind him, and picking up pace. Morpheus sprinted down the corridor, but when he reached the stairs, Teo was already there, in his way, holding Dex in front of him, ready to attack. Morpheus dodged and then, since he didn’t see any way of getting past Teo, he ran on, past the stairs. And then he was at the doorway leading down into the tunnels again. He didn’t really have a choice. Morpheus ran down the stairs.

He didn’t know what was waiting for him down there, but he knew it was better than facing Teo. The stairs seemed to be going on forever without turning, until finally he arrived at the bottom. There were corridors going off from this point, left, right and straight ahead, framed by walls of weathered but solid rock. Just like the rest of the monastery, the walls were ornated with symbols of the Three, triskeles chiselled into the stone. Maybe long ago they had been painted In various colors, but now the stone was weathered, brittle pieces stretching the three arms longer than they should be, and the damp air had let lichen and algae grow inside them. Without thinking, Morpheus ran right.

It was dark down here, almost too dark even for Morpheus’ darkvision, but he didn’t dare use a spell to cast some light. He kept going, until he reached another branching in the corridor. He went left and then pressed himself to the wall, left hand clasped over his mouth, trying to be perfectly still.

He still hadn’t fully comprehended what had happened, but now it was starting to sink in. Gwyn’s death cry was echoing in his head, into every bone in his body, making his blood freeze. He tried to close his eyes and breathe but all he could see was his partner’s mutilated body covered in blood. He was dead. Teo had killed him.

It would have been so easy to let despair take him over then. Just sink to the ground and wait until Teo found him and finished the job. He might even have called that merciful. But he couldn’t forget Gwydion’s last word to him. Run. He couldn’t give up now. He had to keep going. If not for himself, then for Gwydion. Or his death would have been completely in vain.

Morpheus opened his eyes, wiped away the tears, and focused on listening. He heard heavy footsteps, but they were getting farther away. Good. If he could just keep hidden from him for a while longer, the guards would doubtlessly find the signs of a fight and come down here, and that would make dealing with him easier.

The steps were barely audible anymore. Morpheus allowed himself a muffled sigh of relief. At the same moment, Teo came dashing across a corner ahead of him, his grin just as sharp as the edge of his axe which he was swinging at Morpheus. It was too late to dodge. Dex cut into Morpheus shoulder and then swung around again. This time, Morpheus could evade the attack and answer with his rapier, which slipped between Teo’s armor plates and stabbed him in the side. He used the momentary advantage he had to dodge past Teo and run back the way he came from.

If he was fast enough, he could make for the exit before Teo caught up to him. Then he would be in an environment he knew again, where it would be easier to hold his ground. He took the risk of slowing down a bit to send some healing magic through his body while he was running. Dashing around the last corner, he stopped. The stairs should be exactly here. But they weren’t. Morpheus turned around. Had he taken the wrong turns?

He heard steps coming from an opening in the walls to his left. He reached for his quiver, pulled out four crossbow bolts and placed them on the ground on every side of him, weaving magic around them. Then, he darted off again, hoping he would find the exit somehow if he just kept looking. He had been running for only a few seconds when he heard some of the bolts go off, hitting something – twice the wall, once armor and once something that sounded a lot like split flesh. A low chuckle echoed through the stone corridors.

“He can’t hide forever, Dex.” Teo’s voice was far off, and getting even farther away, as both Morpheus and Teo were running in opposite directions. But this time, Morpheus didn’t trust the sound. After the last surprise, it was clear to him that something within the architecture of this place made it transport in weird, misleading ways.

“Though I have to hand it to him: He’s making this a lot more interesting. Wish he’d stop hiding and start attacking, though. What did I even kill the other one for if that doesn’t even get him to fight?” He chuckled. It sounded like he was getting closer again. And Morpheus still hadn’t found the stairs. Before he went on, he leaned down again to place another Cordon of Arrows on the ground. The spell was just finished, when he heard footsteps coming closer, and then Teo was in front of him again, the bolts immediately taking off towards him. Three missed, the last hit him in the chest, puncturing his armor and lodging itself deep inside his flesh. Blood ran down the bolt as well as Teo’s mouth, but he was still grinning from bloody lips.

“I hope you didn’t think that would stop me. Only makes it more fun.”

Morpheus jumped up to evade the axe striking down on him. Teo seemed a bit disappointed.

“After all, where would the fun be if this went the easy way? I like the hard way.”

He swung Dex around. This time, he struck true. A bit lower and Morpheus whole head would have been cleaved in half. Instead, the blade struck only his right horn, hacking it off. A dull pain rang through his head and spread through his entire body, and then he felt the axe handle twist under his legs. He lost his balance and fell.

He tried to slink backwards, but his shoulder bumped against cold hard rock. He was trapped, the wall behind him, Dex in front of him. Teo stepped closer, hunching down before him. He lowered the blade almost gently to Morpheus’ chest, cutting through the outermost layers of his robes.

“I love the hard way.”

Morpheus swallowed. He was listening intently for any sounds betraying the arrival of other people in the labyrinth. They had to be coming soon. He knew there was nothing left he could do but stall for time. His head was still ringing, it felt like his skull was cracked. He felt the cold steel on his chest, and then white-hot pain as the blade cut into him.

“Why are you doing this?”

Teo shot him a confused look. “Are you seriously asking me why I want to kill you?”

“I – I don’t mean that. I know you are a sadistic asshole. But why me? Why come here? Why would your masters send you here to kill me? What would a demon lord want with me? This doesn’t make any - ” He froze. Teo had never said who had sent him.

Morpheus leaned back against the rock wall again, where he could have sworn there had been an entry into another corridor, where he had wanted to escape just a moment ago. He had put it down to being disoriented from the attack, but now he wasn’t so sure.

As Dex cut deeper into his flesh, he sucked in the musty air, and beneath the already familiar dust and mildew, he smelled the stinging tinge of saltwater, and algae. He looked up at one of the triskeles chiselled into the wall in front of him, which had too many arms and algae growing all over it, making it look a lot more like writhing tentacles.

He looked at Teo. “This is a dream.”

Teo seemed annoyed.

“Aberrant was the one who sent you,” Morpheus said. “To kill me in my own dreams.” He knew he should be angry, fuming at his patron for putting him through this, for forcing him to meet Teo again, but all he could feel was relief over the fact that Gwyn was still alive. A laugh came over his lips as the tension fell off him.

“Don’t worry,” Teo said, guiding Dex down to his stomach while leaving a bloody trail on his skin. “The pain won’t feel any less real.”

Morpheus screamed out as the steel cut and twisted into his guts. His fingers gripped for something, anything, to hold on to, and then he felt the leather cover of a book under his left hand. Of course, he had brought it all the way from the library where he had been reading it and then dropped it as Teo attacked him. And remembering that, he knew what he had to do. There was a reason he had come down here.

“How did you get Dex back?” he asked through gritted teeth. “You didn’t answer me before.”

“Not by earning him, if that’s what you mean.” Teo did not stop his work while he answered. Morpheus did his best not to look down, not to think about his organs being torn apart and ripped out of his body. “There was no chance I could ever do that. Not without him. So I just went up to Aberrant and demanded him back.” He stopped for a moment to tenderly run his own fingers over the opposite blade, drawing blood which trickled down the axe head and onto Morpheus’ wound. His eyes were fixed on Dex. “I just couldn’t be without him.”

“And Marlowe?”

Teo flinched at the name, but didn’t answer. He yanked Dex inside the wound, twisting him further into Morpheus’ guts.

Morpheus tried to ignore the pain to ask again: “Did you demand him back as well?”

Teo withdrew the blade from Morpheus’ abdomen and in the same quick motion brought it to his throat instead. Morpheus forced himself to remain calm. He knew he’d struck a nerve.

“If you are that irredeemable monster that you pretend to be, then why did you let him go? Why not keep killing him again and again, like you did before?”

“Shut up.” Dex bit into Morpheus’ neck, but only skin-deep.

“I’ve seen that there’s something good inside you. Something capable of making the right decision. Even if you don’t allow yourself to see it, that part of you is still there.”

“Then why,” Teo said with a voice, a face that was devoid of any emotion, “why am I doing all of this? Why do you think I keep killing people? Why do you think I kept killing him? Do you think you’re the first person who tried to convince me I’m better while I was murdering them? And you can’t even imagine how good that feels to me.” The grin returned to his face, but it looked strained now. “All I can think about right now is how much I love tearing you to pieces, and how amazing your screams of pain sound. That and the look on your face when I killed your partner.”

Morpheus swallowed down any anger he felt over Teo’s words. “Because you’re lonely.” He hesitated. “I was there when you let Marlowe go. When we arrived, you stood in front of him like you wanted to protect him from us.”

“When you arrived, I had just killed him! Because – ”

“Because you didn’t want him to leave you.”

“Because killing him was fun!” Teo shouted. “That’s why I killed him over and over again. It’s what I do.”

“You killed him for the same reason you killed Dexter.”

This time Teo didn’t respond, so Morpheus went on, warily: “That first time we both travelled to Aberrant I saw you murder a dream version of your husband.” He gripped for the book next to him. “And then immediately after that you said – “

Teo moved Dex forward and Morpheus was pretty sure that half of his neck was cut open now. But this was his dream. In dreams, you died slowly, and even though he should be choking on his own blood now, he could talk on, albeit with silent voice: “You don’t do what you do because you are an irredeemably bad person. You do it because you’re desperate. Because you’re lonely”

“Because there’s nothing else left to me, and I’m too selfish to give that up as well,” he said dryly. “What does that change?”

“I’ve seen you be selfless, though. I’ve seen you make the right choice. I know you can do better.”

He opened the book that was lying beside him, the book that had been part of his personal library ever since that first venture into the realm of Aberrant he had been part of. A dried wreath of daisies was lying within the pages as a bookmark.

He picked it up and slowly and carefully sat up, leaning back a bit to get the axe blade out of his throat. The blade didn’t follow his movement, even as he moved forward. It was pointing at his chest now, and cutting him when he leaned towards Teo, but he pushed the pain aside.

With trembling fingers, he put the flower crown on Teo’s head.

“I think he knew that as well,” Morpheus said and then placed a soft kiss on Teo’s forehead.

Dex’ blade was directly at his heart now. All Teo had to do was push a bit forward to kill him, and Morpheus was expecting he would. But instead, Teo just sat there, unmoving.

Morpheus removed his lips from Teo’s skin. “This is my dream, you know, and dreams don’t have to stick to reality. Dreams are made of thoughts and memories,” he explained. “I’ve seen you cry, Teo.”

He felt Dex be pulled out of his ribcage. He prepared for another strike. But it never came. Morpheus leaned back a bit and looked at Teo. He was trembling, hugging his axe close like he was clinging on for life. Tears were running down his face, washing away the blood on his skin. Morpheus took him in his arms and gently wrapped his tail around him. Teo laid his face on Morpheus’ shoulder and cried into the blood-soaked fabrics of his robes, his body shaking from violent sobs.

They, on the other hand, very deliberately use more force than would be necessary when they scrub the blood from his skin. Most of it is their own, almost black now that it’s dried, but they also find some lighter patches, around scratches and shallow cuts they inflicted. They scrub at one of them on his shoulder, and, like on accident, dig their fingers into the wound again. A moan comes over his lips and they smirk up at him.

He grabs them around the hips and pulls them closer, making the water splash around wildly and over the edge of the tub. Qin giggles and then sighs, as his hands wander into their wounds and finger them open again roughly and violently. More wisps of blood trail into the water, like deep red ink, tendrils stretching out quite similarly to the black veins tattooed on their skin.

Qin shudders, and then relaxes, resting their head on his shoulder. They kiss the wound there and then turn their head to kiss his neck, their horns scratching his skin. He leans his head to the side to feel their wet curls on his cheek, while his fingers dig deeper into their wounds. They wrap their arms around him and start scratching up his back again, while their tail wraps more tightly around his leg, brushing over his scarred skin.

From the outside, it might have almost looked peaceful. Two figures huddled together, one holding the other in a tight embrace. You could pretend the other was sleeping or just very exhausted, and easily overlook that neither of the men were breathing. You could ignore the blood splattered all around them and over their armour and clothes and the blade of the axe lying next to them. There was a tranquillity to it, if you ignored everything else…

Slowly, Marlowe started shifting around as life - or at least a facsimile of it - returned to his body. He opened his eyes and flinched when he saw Teo over him. For a while they just stared at each other, Teo’s arms around Marlowe, Marlowe’s expression turning from fear to confusion, his muscles tensing under his skin, like he was expecting an attack any moment.

“What are you doing?”, Marlowe asked.

“I don’t know”, Teo said. “I just… I didn’t want to let go.”

“Are you going to kill me again?”

Teo considered the question for a while. “I don’t think so. Not right now, at least. Right now, I just want to hold you. Is that okay?”

Marlowe thought for a long while, the white irises of his pitch black eyes darting around, ears twitching, before he said: “Yes.”

Teo was surprised at the feeling of relief that brought him. He pulled Marlowe closer, cradled him in his arms. Marlowe didn’t return the embrace, but he also didn’t push him away, and that was enough. That was more than Teo had hoped for. More than he deserved.

Marlowe shifted around a bit, his battered armour rattling.

“You want to take that armour off?”, Teo asked. “Doesn’t seem comfortable to you, with all that blood and gore.”

Marlowe considered this, suspicion in his eyes. “Only if you also take off yours.”

Teo nodded. He let go of Marlowe for just a short while (immediately missing his touch) and started removing first the shoulder pieces and braces strapped to his coat, before taking off the coat and moving on to the plates. He actually couldn’t remember when he had last doffed the armour, if he had even done so since they first got to this place. Mildly surprised, he noted some bruises and wounds on his skin that he hadn’t taken notice of before, some from the fight from before, some maybe days old. As he let the last piece of black plate fall to the ground with a clatter, he looked over to Marlowe, who had started taking of his armour as well with clumsy fingers. With some satisfaction, Teo noticed that Marlowe had trouble using his left hand, which he had sliced off during their fight.

“You need help?”, Teo offered.

Marlowe looked up, surprised. “Uh. I wouldn’t mind it”, he said after some deliberation.

Teo came closer, started undoing the buckles. Now that he was closer to him again, he realized the main reason Marlowe had taken so long.

“You’re trembling”, Teo pointed out.

“It’s just very cold here”, Marlowe explained. “And I’m already always feeling cold. Especially when I’ve just died.”  If that sounded accusatory, Teo took no notice of it.

“Can’t be of any help there”, Teo said. “Not like I have any body heat left.” Which didn’t matter because he never felt cold. Never felt anything, really. Even though now, when his fingers touched Marlowe’s skin on accident while he was removing the armour, he could feel how cold it was.

“You’re warmer than me”, Marlowe said, slight discomfort in his voice. “At least right now.”

Teo furrowed his brow. He could distinctly remember all the times someone (usually Dexter) had touched him and immediately flinched away, startled by his sickly cold skin, even if they pretended nothing was wrong.

“Maybe it’s because I just killed you”, Teo said, shrugging. “I always feel more alive when I kill someone, so maybe it also changes things about my body.”

Or maybe he’s just extremely cold after getting killed by you and losing a lot of blood, was Dex’ theory. Teo shot the axe a quick glance and chose to ignore him, even though he was probably right, as always.

He decided to focus on helping Marlowe with his armour again. Much like Teo’s, it was very battered from the countless fights against demons, undead and each other it had to withstand. Teo’s fingers grazed the big hole in the middle of the chest plate.

“I could repair that, if you want”, he said. “I’m not the best blacksmith, not by far…” He couldn’t help looking over at Dex as he said that. “But I do have some practice. Should be enough to fix it up a bit.”

Marlowe nodded, letting Teo help him take off the chest plate. The sweater he was wearing underneath was completely drenched with blood and sweat and was barely more than shreds at this point. No wonder Marlowe was shivering like that.

“I’d just need to get some good material somewhere”, Teo said. “Maybe we’d get some new warm clothes for you there as well.”

“I can mend that myself”, Marlowe said, never taking his eyes off Teo.

“Sure”, Teo said, glancing over at Dex, hoping he’d remind him later to pick up fabrics and yarn somewhere. Then he looked back at Marlowe, now unarmored, his scar-covered skin laid bare. He couldn’t help but notice how beautiful the man was. And then he wondered if he only thought that because he had seen Marlowe die, knew what his face looked like when it was distorted in pain.

But he didn’t want to think about that. Right now, all he wanted was to be with Marlowe. He moved closer to him again, laid his arms around him, waiting for any kind of protest, and when none came, he pulled Marlowe into an embrace again, running his hands up and down his back.

“Why are you doing this?”, Marlowe asked after a while. “I thought you were only interested in killing people. Why are you suddenly trying to be… nice?”

“I thought that, too”, Teo said. “But this… here, with you… it’s different. You’re different.” He had started absent-mindedly tracing the scars on Marlowe’s skin with his fingers. “Remember when you said that the only feeling I talk about is where I want to hit with Dex? Well, you were right because that’s the only feeling I’ve been able to have in years, ever since I died. But now that’s changed. You’ve changed that. Because I can feel for you. And I’ve missed that so much.

“So you don’t want to kill me anymore?”, Marlowe asked.

“Of course, I still want to kill you”, Teo grinned. “But right now, I don’t want to hurt you. Or I want to hurt you, but I don’t want you to hurt. Does that make sense?”

Marlowe didn’t answer and Teo took it as a no.

“Hurting you just feels too good to give up”, Teo tried to explain. “It makes me feel so close to you.” He let his hands wander under Marlowe’s sweater and the top he wore beneath, feeling the skin and scar tissue, fully aware how much better it would feel to trace those scars with Dex’ blade rather than his fingers, how much he wanted to pin Marlowe to the ground and slice into his guts, cut him open from side to side, until they were both completely drenched in his blood and his screams filled the entire Abyss…

“But right now, this can be enough”, he said. “Right now, I can push that aside and just be here with you, without hurting you. And I want you to be happy. Maybe because I just killed you. Maybe because I already killed you 63 times. Maybe that’s why I can feel something for you. Probably. I mean, the only time I felt something for Dexter after I died was when I killed him.”

There was a long silence between them, which felt peaceful to Teo, and uncomfortable to Marlowe.

Then: “You counted?”, Marlowe asked, incredulously.

“It’s just something I can’t forget”, Teo explained. “If you want to know, you killed me 45 times. Don’t get frustrated about the difference, I killed you 28 times before you finally started fighting back, so that hardly counts as a win.”

“You know, sometimes I almost start feeling bad for you, but then you do or say something like this, and I remember that you are just a horrible person.”

“You’re right”, Teo said, pulling Marlowe closer. “I am. And you have every right to hate me. After everything I did to you…” He hesitated, his eyes wandering to Dex. “There’s something I should… Dex told me to talk to you about.” He lifted the sweater a bit to expose Marlowe’s belly and chest. His eyes immediately fixed on the big scar across Marlowe’s chest. One could tell without closer inspection that the scar tissue went far deeper than skin. Teo pulled the sweater off him, the tanktop right along with it. Marlowe didn’t protest, not like the wet wool was any comfort to him anyway. But his ears were twitching nervously again.

Teo laid his hand on Marlowe’s chest, brushing aside the necklace with the ram pendant. He gently touched the scar, running his fingers over it. A shiver went through Marlowe and Teo couldn’t tell if it came from the cold.

“I wanted to apologize to you”, Teo said without looking up.

This time Marlowe seemed genuinely surprised. “You mean for killing me – what was it? – 63 times?”

“No.” Teo couldn’t help grinning at that. “I don’t feel bad about that at all. Well, maybe a little, because it’s you. But it feels bad in a good way, in a “at least I’m feeling something” way. But this was something I had no right to decide for you. It’s my fault you’re here. That’s what I want to apologize for. I’m sorry you’re stuck here with me. And I’m sorry you’re undead because of me.”

There was a slight shift in Marlowe’s expression that Teo couldn’t quite place.

“At least Dex can stop nagging me about this now”, Teo said quickly, “He has been for some time now. Said the least I could do was apologize.” Because Dex knew him too well to suggest that he should try being better. Because even as he had held Marlowe the past hour, debated with Dex whether he should try to stop hurting him, and tell Marlowe that he would try that, Dex had warned him to not make promises he knew for a fact he couldn’t keep. “So I just wanted to say that I’m sorry. At least, as sorry as I can be. It’s not like I can actually feel sorry. But I know what I did was wrong.”

“Because Dex told you?”

He nodded. In fact, Teo’s relationship to Dex had been complicated ever since they had arrived in the Abyss, Dex insisting that Teo should try to figure out a way to help Marlowe, while Teo was trying to avoid that subject. It had been a frequent argument between them, whenever Marlowe was out, whether it would be better for him if this time he stayed dead for good. Of course, Dex was correct in most of his points, but Teo would be damned to admit that. And anyways, it was not as if Marlowe needed to know all that. And Teo didn’t want to think about that now.

He grabbed Marlowe around the waist, gently but firmly pulling him closer. Marlowe tensed, but didn’t object. Teo bent down, to Marlowe’s chest, and placed a kiss on the scar over his heart.

“I’m sorry”, he whispered, and then kissed him again. “I’m sorry for dragging you into this mess.” Since Marlowe didn’t resist, he relaxed his grip a bit, but still held on to him.

“Is that the only thing you’re sorry for?”, Marlowe asked, his voice bitter.

For a second, Teo wanted to give the same answer he always gave Dex: I’m a murderer, we all know that. We know I won’t change.

But now he hesitated.

“I don’t know”, he said. “I mean, Dex has always judged me for killing innocent people. I’ve learned to tune it out by now. He’s just always been a better person than me. I know I’m a bad person, Marlowe. I sometimes wish I weren’t. I wish I could go back to being the man I was before. But I can’t. I’ve tried being a good person, and I’ve failed miserably. It’s easier just not trying at all. It’s easier just giving in. At least that way, I can feel almost alive now and then. Like right now.” He put his arms around Marlowe, felt the cold skin, the grooves of his scars, his slight quivering from cold and maybe also fear.

Teo picked up his coat from where it was lying next to him. “Should keep you a bit warmer. Not like I need it.”

Marlowe let him drape the coat around his shoulders. “Don’t think that means I trust you”, he said. “Or that I have accepted your… apology.”

“I understand that you hate me. I’d be surprised if you didn’t.” In fact, he would be concerned. Worried. That he had broken something inside Marlowe not even Teo in his endless cruelty had meant to break. “I understand I could never make it up to you, what I did.”

“Yeah, no, you really can’t”, Marlowe said.

Teo couldn’t remember when words had last hurt him like this, but he was happy they did. At the same time, he wished it could be different. That there was any way he could make Marlowe feel different about him. That he could make it up to him somehow. But he knew he couldn’t. There was nothing good he could ever give Marlowe. All he could do was take.

Even now, if he was being honest, he wasn’t holding Marlowe to comfort him, or warm him, or help him in any other way, really. The reason he was clinging to him was that it felt good. And that he was scared of letting go. With the exception of Dex, Marlowe seemed the only real thing in the world, and he needed to hold on to that, and he couldn’t let go. Was that selfish? Probably. But when hadn’t he been?

Just as it was selfish that he wanted to tell Marlowe what he felt for him, even as he still didn’t know what that was himself. All of this was so new to him, and he didn’t know what to do with all the emotions that flooded him when he looked at Marlowe. All he knew was that he never wanted to let this go again, that he never wanted to let go of Marlowe again.

So, as he buried his head in Marlowe’s chest, all he could say was: “Please, just let me feel alive for a while with you.”

For some time, they were just sitting there, huddled together on the ground, Teo’s arms around Marlowe, who seemed lost and not entirely comfortable with the situation. Teo’s lips pressed to the scar.

Then, keeping his hands on Marlowe’s hips, Teo moved his head, started kissing the other scars on Marlowe’s chest, then, slowly, moved upwards, kissing the scar on his shoulder. The one he had inflicted when they first met. The only one stemming directly from him. Then he moved his head a bit, started kissing Marlowe’s neck, the skin so soft and vulnerable, thinking about how easy, how beautiful, how exciting it would be to slit his throat. He pushed the thought aside and pulled away from him a bit. He took Marlowe’s head in his hands, ran his thumb over the scars stretching from the base of his left horn over his face, while his other hand caressed the soft fuzz on the back of Marlowe’s head.

He looked so beautiful. It made Teo think of an even more beautiful sight: Marlowe, covered in blood, every scar torn anew, one horn broken off lying next to him, his abdomen slashed open, body distorted from broken bones, his face streaked with tears and blood, teeth knocked out, his tail sliced clean off, but only after he’d already cut into it multiple times.

To drive this image from his mind, Teo leaned forward and kissed Marlowe on the lips. Gently at first, then more hungrily, keeping his eyes half-open to take in Marlowe’s reaction. Marlowe just sat still, mouth closed against the kiss, staring into Teo’s eyes. That was alright. He didn’t need him to kiss back.

Teo put his right hand to the back of Marlowe’ head, laid the other to his chest and pushed him to the ground. He ran his fingers through Marlowe’s hair, matted together with sweat and blood, his other hand wandering over his body, feeling the scars on his skin, like he wanted to memorize them. Like he wanted to take in every detail of Marlowe, while he still had some capacity to feel.

“I love you”, he murmured against Marlowe’s lips. And then: “I’m sorry.”

Marlowe stared at him in disbelief, but he still didn’t push him away, so Teo just kept kissing him, kept feeling him.

Then Teo could feel some of the tension leave Marlowe’s body. He parted his lips a little, letting Teo’s tongue enter his mouth. Teo noticed a soft pressure on his back that had probably been there for a while and realized that Marlowe had wrapped his tail around him.

Fuck, this still wasn’t enough! He needed more, needed to feel Marlowe in a different way, a closer way. Left hand grabbing Marlowe’s hip, his other hand wandered around Marlowe’s body, his chest, his stomach, then went somewhere else, and then he pulled away from the kiss and held Dex to Marlowe’s chest.

Slightly out of breath, Teo said: “We should have both seen that coming.”

At the exact same time, Marlowe called out something in a language Teo didn’t understand but recognized by now. His hand was on the holy symbol around his neck. Teo felt a familiar tension go through him.

“Well, I did see it coming”, Marlowe said and pushed Teo’s paralyzed body off him.

Teo was surprised at how little offence he took when Marlowe pried Dex from his hands. If anything, the sight of Marlowe wielding Dex excited him. Still unable to move, Teo’s glance shot back and forth between the glinting blade and Marlowe’s black eyes, wordlessly begging him to bring this to its only natural conclusion.

She was looking at him more attentively now, her eyes lingering on his face – and probably the big new scar stretching across it – a moment longer. “Yes, I remember. If you want to thank me – “

“That’s not why I’m here.”

Her brows furrowed again. Teo tried to remember if he had thanked her after he had woken up, but he couldn’t tell. It had all been so blurry then, and he hadn’t even known what exactly had happened. That he had been dead. He didn’t even remember her face afterwards, had had to ask around the camp if anyone knew which cleric it had been. Even now, it was hard for him to focus on her features, like it was often these days, like trying to hold on to fog. It felt like sleepwalking, in a way, impressions drifting past him without touching him. Ever since then, he couldn’t sleep, but he felt awake only half the time as well.

“I think something went wrong.”

Lys narrowed her eyes. “You are alive, are you not?”

This was a very loaded question.

“It doesn’t exactly feel like being alive,” he said, hesitantly.

She sighed. “Oh,  get it. We are years into a war that has been going on way too long, we are all stretched way too thin, I am assuming this is affecting you people just as much as us. I get an average four hours of sleep each night, and that’s not even counting the all-nighters I have to pull, trying to keep your comrades alive or – “, another sigh, “bringing people like you back to life. It’s hard work, and your higher-ups apparently expect me to work miracles. I have no doubt you feel similarly exhausted by all this – seeing all that violence and death sure can’t help.”

He tensed, but she didn’t seem to notice, just continued on: “So, if you don’t have any specific reason to talk to me, I’d suggest –  ”

“I don’t have a heartbeat,” he interrupted her.

She sucked in the air through pursed lips. “That is one side-effect resurrection can have. There is sometimes a quasi-undead residual to patients who were resurrected under sub-optimal conditions.”

He looked at her in confusion. He understood some of those words. “Undead?” he asked. “Like a zombie?”

“No, no!” Lys lifted her arms defensively. “Like someone who was already dead and got brought back. It didn’t affect any of your other bodily functions, did it?” She waved her arms at his general frame. “So I don’t see a problem.”

“But it did,” he said. “My senses are all wrong.”

“Uh huh…?”

“That’s the first thing I noticed. I don’t taste anything. Or rather, I do, but it doesn’t… feel like anything? It’s the same with smells. Textures. Anything, really. It’s all muted.” He struggled to find the words to describe it. How did you even describe something that was missing? Especially if you hadn’t even noticed it until it was gone. He had needed days to realize something was off, and even longer to be able to put his finger on it.

Lys didn’t seem impressed. “You have to excuse me for saying so, but that just sounds like trauma, and a pretty usual reaction at that, given the circumstances. You will have to forgive me my lack of empathy, but I really don’t have the means to handle this.”

“I thought that as well,” he said, still hesitant. “But that can’t be the only thing. I don’t think it is.” He thought for a moment. “I can’t sleep. I haven’t in two weeks. But it’s like my body doesn’t even need that anymore.”

“Well, that seems like an advantage – ”

“But it isn’t normal. Something changed in me when you brought me back. Something more than a missing heartbeat.”

Just another sigh, even more annoyed now. He only now realized what he must sound like to her with his voice flat and emotionless. She must think he had no urgency, just minor complaints.

“I don’t feel alive,” he repeated, searching for a way to make her understand. And then the words he hadn’t wanted to form before: “I don’t feel human. I don’t feel anything at all.”

“Now, you listen to me.” She walked around the table, leaning against the top, arms crossed. “I tried to have some patience here, but you came in here without even asking or knocking or whatever the hell you’re supposed to do before entering a tent, making accusations about how I do my job, when all I wanted to do is get my work done so I can finally catch up on some sleep. Do you know how long I sat there scratching every bit of your brain off the ground and reassembling it like a fucking 1000 part puzzle?” She pointed at the scar on his face.

“And did I even get a thanks from you?” she asked. “No, of course not. It’s back to battle, back to kill more people or get yourself killed so I can resurrect you right again. It’s all ‘Christine, resurrect this person, resurrect that guy, heal that battalion up quick’ so they can get back to bashing each other’s brains in like there’s no tomorrow. Never fucking mind that I don’t get any sleep, that I’m working overtime, that half the times they don’t even give me all the materials I need. And here you are, having the fucking audacity to complain. You would be dead without me, have you spent any thoughts on that at all? You know how many people die each day, how many people me and the other healers can’t save? Of course you know, you’re there when they drop like flies during the battles. So maybe show some fucking gratitude that you were one of the few deigned too important to be allowed to die. Not everyone’s that lucky!”

Teo waited for her to finish her rant. There was no anger in him. That still surprised him, but he was slowly getting used to that. That was the part that worried him the most.

“I have a family at home,” he said then. “A husband and a daughter. People I used to love more than anyone else. Now I have to strain to even remember their voices. All of that was just gone when I woke up.”

Lys rubbed her eyes. “You think you’re the only one – “

“It’s the same with people here,” he interrupted. “People who I used to consider friends. One of them died yesterday and all I thought – “ He stopped himself. “It’s like I’m all numb. Like I can’t feel anything, for anyone.”

“That’s what war is like. I didn’t think I’d have to tell you this, but that’s what it’s like when you’re surrounded by death. You start shutting it all out because – “

“Because you can’t carry the burden of everyone you fail to safe and everyone you’re forced to kill.” He rattled it off flatly. “I’ve been doing this for years, Lys. I know what that feels like. It isn’t this.”

She still looked unimpressed, tapping her fingers impatiently. Fuck it then.

“The only times I feel alive right now is during battles,” he explained. “I don’t remember the faces of the people I used to call friends, but I remember the faces of the people I’ve killed. Every detail of it.”

“Well –“

This time he didn’t even let her start the sentence. “When you start being a soldier, you remember the first person you killed. The second as well. You’re horrified at yourself. Around the tenth, you stop counting and start shutting it out, as you put it. No sense in carrying that with you. But I’ve started counting again. I’ve started looking them in the eyes again. And this time it’s not horror I feel, but joy.”

It was silent in the tent for a long while, as he waited for her reaction. She took a deep breath.

“Isn’t that what makes a soldier?” she asked then. “That you take joy in killing.”

Again, he wasn’t angry, but there was another thing rising up in him. He couldn’t place it yet, but he liked it. It filled the emptiness.

“A lousy soldier at best.” That’s what he used to think, anyway. Now his retort just sounded like a hollow phrase, even to himself.

“To me it just sounds like you got a lot better at doing your job. If you have a problem with murder, maybe you shouldn’t have joined.”

He stared at her. “There has to be something you can do. It was your – “

“No!” This time she interrupted him. “This has nothing to do with me. I’m exhausted, tired. Sick and tired of your accusations. I saved your life, that’s all I did. I’m a healer. And if you think that something changed, that there’s something wrong with you – well, sorry to say, but that was probably there before.”

He clenched his fists. “This isn’t normal. I can’t even look at anyone without thinking about how I want to kill them.” He stared her in the eyes.

“Are you threatening me?” she asked sharply.

Yes. “No!” Yes! “I’m asking for your help.”

Her body tensed. “There’s nothing I can do. Maybe you are fucked in the head, but that’s not my doing.” The disdain in her icy blue eyes was slowly replaced by fear. And oh, after all her bullshit seeing her afraid was so satisfying. “Leave. Now. Or I’ll inform your higher-ups of this.”

He stormed forward, closing his hands around her throat before a scream could escape from it. He squeezed until she was gasping for air and her eyes were bulging out.

“Let me go, you bastard”, she whispered with what little sound she could muster. She grabbed his arms, clawed at him, tried to get him off herself, but it was no use.

A part of him knew he should be horrified at himself. But he wasn’t. There was just that relief, feeling returning to his fingers right where he was cutting off her air, and spreading through his entire body from there. It felt like he was in a battle again, adrenaline rushing through him and making him feel alive for a short while.

“Do you still think that’s just normal for a soldier?” he said. His voice was trembling with excitement. He felt a grin stretch over his lips.

And there was that sweet fear in her eyes, asking how far he would take this, and he realized he didn’t know the answer. He knew he had proven his point. He also knew she’d start screaming for the night watch the moment he let her go. This would have consequences. None of that mattered to him right now. All he knew and all that mattered was the feeling that he hadn’t taken it far enough yet.

He threw her backwards, bashed her head against the table. A choked-up scream. For a moment her eyes rolled back into her head. Blood was streaming down from the laceration, clotting her long silky hair, and soon tears followed.

It was beautiful.

Suddenly, her arm shot to the side, and then the knife was in her hand. She stabbed at him, pierced his arm. Pain shot through him, making him let go, just long enough for her to catch a breath, but before she could call out, he was crushing her throat with one hand again, closing the other around her wrist. He chuckled, even as blood was running out of his burning wound. Her struggle was making this even more enjoyable for him, he realized. He twisted her hand until she let go of the knife and then grabbed it himself.

He held the blade to her throat. “If you scream, I’ll kill you,” he said.

He could see in her fear-speckled eyes that she believed him.

“Now tell me: Do you know any way to fix me?” He loosened his chokehold just enough for her to be able to suck in some air.

She sobbed: “I don’t know. It’s not my fault. I brought you back. You’d be dead if it weren’t for me. This isn’t my fault. Please!”

Her answer didn’t really matter. Teo had never killed anyone outside battle before. Had never ended the life of someone who hadn’t intended to do the same to him. This was new. This was exciting. He felt the resistance of her skin, her flesh, her windpipe against the steel as he pushed the knife down. When Lys started her last scream, he clamped his hand over her mouth so the blood bubbling from the gash was the only sound escaping her.

Teo took in every detail of her death. A murder, he noticed, gave him so much more time to pay attention, much more than a battle where after one kill he had to turn right to the next enemy. It gave him the opportunity to watch her body shutting down. Her hands cramping one last time around his arms and then letting go, arms falling slack. The slowing and then end to her attempts of breathing. The ceasing of her blood flow. And finally, the light in her eyes vanishing.

As he watched her skin grow pale and felt the warmth leave her body, Teo realized his mistake of making her death this quick. He should have cherished this, taken his time. But it was what it was.

He was trembling. He hadn’t felt this good in weeks. He held on to the feelings flooding through him, even as the first rush of euphoria left him and the consequences of his actions dawned on him.

If they found him here, he’d be tried for murder, found guilty and executed, there was no doubt about it. He found he wasn’t that upset by the idea. It wasn’t like what he currently had felt much like being alive anyway. If there was no way to fix him, death might be the better option. Maybe he should just turn himself in. That might even be seen as honorable, even if he didn’t give much of a damn about honor anymore. They might let him choose how he’d be killed, though. Might make his end a bit more fun. He wondered how they’d explain what had happened. What they’d tell his family.

He halted. His family. Dexter and Fey.

How would they react if they heard he was a murderer? He found he didn’t care that much. But he knew he should, and he knew – he hoped – he would care about them again, as soon as he returned.

That had to be it. He’d wait out the war, enjoy every battle and feel alive while he slaughtered the enemy soldiers. And then he’d return home, see his family again, and make new memories, memories that meant something to him, and he wouldn’t be this empty anymore.

But all of that couldn’t be if he was found with this corpse now. This had been a mistake. He regretted what he had done – at least he told himself he did. But what would it bring to be punished for it? What would it help Dexter or Fey if he was executed, and they were known as the family of a murderer? What would it help Christine Lys?

He got up, pulled the knife out of her wound, wiped it on her jacket and laid it on the table. The candles had fallen on the mud ground during their struggle, but some were still burning. He kicked them over to the tent walls, making sure a fire was spreading before he left.

He took care nobody saw him on his way back to his tent, cleaned and dressed the wound on his arm before he went inside, where everyone else was sound asleep, and laid down on his bedroll. He could hear screams outside as others became aware of the fire, but they were distant enough that nobody in his tent woke up, and nobody called for them, so he just ignored the noise.

Teo hadn’t paid much attention to the smaller doctor so far. Or the other one. Or anyone of his unlikely companions, for that matter. There were simply more important matters at hand. Now he wished he could direct his attention literally anywhere else but Vincent.

Vincent didn’t even seem like he had noticed what he was doing, had simply rolled up his sleeves and started dragging his nails through his skin, like it was just a normal activity one did while bored during watchkeeping. Not that Teo was in the position to judge here. It just made things a lot more difficult for him. For a moment, he wanted to grip his weapon, then remembered that he didn’t have his weapon. He laid his hands on his knees, looking away, looking anywhere but the doctor’s blood-covered arms.

From the corner of his eye, Teo could see Vincent shift. “Sorry”, the doctor said, stopping the movement of his hands.

Teo cleared his throat, still looking away. “Is there a reason you’re doing this?”

“It… helps.”

Teo looked over at Vincent, brow furrowed.

“I don’t know what happened to you all in the diving bell, but for me, it just suddenly made everything disappear”, Vincent explained further. “It’s kinda nice being able to feel again.”

Teo couldn’t help but laugh dryly at that. “I can relate to that.” He paused. He knew he shouldn’t do it, knew that it was a bad idea. He knew where it would lead. If he wanted to have any chance in the nightmarish labyrinth that was the realm of Aberrant, he needed the group. He couldn’t risk any of them dying or distrusting him, not until he had Dex back. But he still couldn’t keep himself from asking: “Do you need help with that?”

Vincent’s eyes wandered to the longsword lying on the floor next to Teo, brow raised. “I’d, er, prefer to keep all my limbs. But thanks for offering.”

There was a moment of silence in the room.

“Unless you were thinking of using something else instead of the sword?”, Vincent said.

“I don’t have anything else.” Teo paused, thinking. “I can try holding back.” He knew that wouldn’t work. He knew he wouldn’t be able to stop himself once he started. But he needed this. Especially after what had happened in the diving bell, he needed to distract himself, stop thinking about what he would have done, what he could have done (what he had wanted to do). The fight had been nice, but he needed an opponent who could feel pain on some level, someone who bled. He looked at Vincent, for the first time noticed the two beauty marks under his eyes, the upturned nose. A cute face, and if he could see it distorted in pain, that was sure to drive the other face he had seen in the water away. So he held back his remark about not being very good with self-restraint. Vincent didn’t need to know that, did he?

Vincent was mulling this over, looking down at his bloodstained, scar-covered arms. “Well, I have scalpels”, Vincent said. “Should be easier to hold back with that.”

“I don’t have any experience with those”, Teo said. “But there’s a first time for everything.”

Vincent considered this for a while, looking at Teo, like he was trying to figure out how smart it was to trust him (and maybe also how much he cared about the smartness of his choice). Then he sighed. “Sure. Let’s do this. Not like my own scratches are helping much.”

Teo couldn’t stop himself from grinning. “Do you want to do it here, or should we get some more privacy?”

“Well, technically we are still holding watch”, Vincent said. “And I think I would prefer not being completely alone with you, at this point in time. Nothing personal.”

“You have magic, right? Shouldn’t be a problem to stop me if I go too far”, Teo said, still grinning. If the doctor started struggling, that would only make it more fun.

“I’d also prefer saving my spells for when I actually need them. I trust you won’t do anything too stupid while the others are nearby and could wake up from me yelling for them.”

“Fine. But if they wake up to see this, you tell them that all of this is consensual.”

“Sure”, Vincent said, taking off his leather armour and unbuttoning his shirt. “As long as you keep it consensual. Are you familiar with safewords?”

Teo nodded. “We – I just used “stop” so far, nothing complicated.” Not that he had ever been good at sticking to them.

“Should be enough.” He opened the medical kit sitting next to him, taking out a little leather case and from that a scalpel, which he held out to Teo. He took it, flipped it around in his hand to get a feel for it. It wasn’t much different from a small knife. He had used knifes to kill before, but only rarely.

“Any hard limits?”, Teo asked while testing the blade with his thumb. It was a bit sharper than he had anticipated, cutting the skin and drawing blood immediately. He smiled.

“No dismemberment. And keep it to my arms, maybe the legs if you have to.”

“What about chest and stomach?”, he asked, turning the bloodied weapon towards Vincent again.

“That could end quite – aaah!”

Teo had already swiped at Vincent’s chest while he had spoken, a thin cut trailing over his skin.

“Sorry”, Teo said, not meaning it. He couldn’t help but smile as he saw Vincent’s blood mixing with his own on the blade.

“I guess that was alright”, Vincent said. “Not deep enough to be lethal.”

“See, I can hold back”, Teo grinned. Where would be the fun in just going for the lethal injuries right away?

“And I felt that, at least”, Vincent continued. “Just – keep it away from my face and hands, keep everything attached and me alive, and we should be fine.”

“You do have a pretty face”, Teo said, gripping into Vincent’s dark locks with his free hand. “I understand why you’d want to keep that.” He yanked the doctor’s head backwards, slamming him to the ground, then got on top of him to fix him in place.

Vincent sucked in the air as Teo plunged the scalpel into his right arm, then dragged it through the flesh. There was something exciting about using a weapon this small, the way he could control the trail of the wounds, how he could just go all in without having to worry about immediately hacking off a body part. It still didn’t compare to Dex. Teo missed him even more in that moment. He really didn’t want to kill Vincent now, not like this, he thought while running his fingers through the cut, not without Dex. But there might not be much of a choice here.

Teo licked his lips, then inflicted another cut on Vincent’s skin, feeling the flesh beneath part for the silver blade. He let go of Vincent’s hair to be able to grip into the wounds and cut new ones at the same time.

“Are you getting off on this?”, Vincent asked.

Teo looked at his face, even prettier now that it was filled with pain, and maybe something else. “Not exactly. Are you?”

“Don’t dodge the question.”

Teo laughed. “What you said before, about not feeling much… I have a similar problem.” He cut into Vincent’s chest again, between the ribs, getting dangerously close to the lungs, but making himself stop just short of them. “This… hurting people… it makes me feel things.”

“Like what?”

Judging by the way his voice was hitching, Vincent’s numbness was being driven away at about the same rate as Teo’s was, which he welcomed. He pulled the scalpel out, then stabbed it into Vincent’s shoulder, relishing the silent scream. “Alive, mostly.”

Vincent gritted his teeth, nodded. “I get that.” A lopsided smirk spread on his lips. “And you know what? You hurting me really does bring some sensations back. You’re pretty cold, you know?” His arm, mutilated as it was, shot up, grabbing for Teo’s left wrist. Teo looked down at him in confusion.

Vincent’s smirk widened. “No pulse”, he observed.

Teo yanked his hand free and gripped Vincent’s hair again, pulling his head back, and held the scalpel to his throat. “I could kill you right now.”

“You could”, Vincent mused. “Would be a pretty boring and fast death, though, and I think that’s not what you want. Plus, I do have a death ward on me, and I have some ways to deal with people like you.”

“You’re right”, Teo said. “It would be a boring death.”

Still holding on to Vincent’s hair, he moved a hand down to his arms again, stroking through the wounds. He could feel a lot more now, could feel both the cuts and Vincent’s older scars. The doctor’s skin was cold, though not as cold as his own. He could feel the sticky wet blood under his fingers. The pulsing of Vincent’s heartbeat, and, for just a moment, he imagined his own heart beating along with it, though of course he knew that couldn’t be true.

He looked down at Vincent’s face, so young-looking behind the sneering sarcasm and the tiredness. Of course, he fixated on the nose, so like someone else’s. The beauty marks, one too many, and in the wrong place, but still…

Teo leaned farther down, and, as he plunged the blade into Vincent’s arm again, he kissed him on the lips.

A sound of surprise came from Vincent, muffled by Teo’s lips. The doctor stared at him, perplexed but not necessarily objecting. Teo half-closed his eyes, kissing the man under him who he could so easily pretend was Dexter. The man started kissing back. Teo kept moving his fingers through the torn flesh, as the kiss turned more hungry, more violent. Teo imagined the half-elf under him looking up at him out of doe eyes that held fear and pain, all for him.  For just a moment, even though he had lost him, Teo could be with Dexter.

The bliss didn’t last long. Maybe it was the blood smeared all over him, painting the skin a dark red, maybe it was the teeth digging into the scar on Teo’s lips, bringing back the pain from before, but Dexter kept slipping from Teo’s mind, turning into another man, another person he had loved. No matter how much he tried to push the thought away, he kept going back to kissing Marlowe as well as Dexter.

He couldn’t do this. He broke the kiss.

“Do you kiss all your victims?”, Vincent asked, the smirk curling on his lips.

Teo needed a moment to regain the focus to answer. “Not all of them”, he said vaguely. “You do look very cute covered in bloo-“

Something hit Teo’s head full force from the side, pushing him off Vincent. His ears rang and vision went blurry for a second, as he was sent sprawling on the floor, the scalpel slipping from his grasp. He tried to get up immediately, but there was a pressure on his chest, keeping him down. Teo blinked until his vision returned to him. Standing over him, one foot in a black suit shoe (which was probably what had hit Teo’s head before) placed on his chest, was the other doctor, Keppler.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing, you stupid oaf?” He wasn’t exactly yelling, but there was a certain lack of composure to him. “I know you were fantasizing about this, but I never believed you would follow up on it!”

Teo just stared up at him, grinning. He could feel blood streaming from his nose. “He asked for this.”

Keppler moved his foot from Teo’s chest to his throat. He didn’t place his full weight on there yet, but the threat was there. Teo wondered how long it would take the doctor to realize he didn’t need to breathe.

“I don’t care”, Keppler said, leaning down a little. “If you ever lay your dirty hands on him again, our deal is over. I will make sure you will never get Dexter back. I'll make sure you live the rest of your sorry life without ever seeing him again.” He put more pressure on his foot, making it impossible for Teo to answer. He glared down at him. Teo recognized something in those eyes. Something he knew from himself.

“What exactly do you think you are doing here?”

The weight on Teo’s throat lifted for a second as Keppler turned his head in surprise. Teo tried to sit up, seeing Vincent’s blood-stained hand holding the scalpel up to Keppler’s neck. When he felt Teo move, Keppler immediately put his foot down on him again, but his attention was on Vincent now.

“I am simply teaching Herr Dagger some manners.” Keppler’s voice was almost a hiss in Teo’s direction.

“No need for that”, Vincent asserted calmly. “As he already pointed out, I consented to this.”

“I understand that. But I still think, Dr van Stein, that no matter how desperate you are, you really shouldn’t settle for someone like that, someone whose work is that messy and ugly and simply insufficient for you”, Keppler explained, confirming Teo’s suspicions from earlier.

“I think I can make those decisions for myself, Dr Keppler.”

For a moment it was silent in the room, safe for the occasional blood drop falling from Vincent’s arms.

“Do you want to take your foot of his throat?”, Vincent asked, looking down on Teo. “I don’t know how much air he has left.”

“Will you behave?”, Keppler asked, increasing the pressure for a moment.

Teo didn’t respond and didn’t stop grinning.

Keppler sighed heavily, then lifted his foot. He held out a hand to help Teo up. He ignored him and pushed himself off the floor with one hand, rubbing his broken nose (relishing the pain).

Keppler kept his attention on Teo for a few more seconds, then half-turned to Vincent. “Can I help you with your wounds, Dr van Stein?”

“I can take care of that myself, thank you”, Vincent said, putting the scalpel away. “I’d rather not have your hands on me right now.”

Keppler pressed his lips together, then nodded. “Of course.” Then he turned to Teo again. “Do you need help with your nose, Herr Dagger?”

It’s not like you need to breathe, anyway. So you jump.

You know that the water is ice cold. You know that it’s closing over you. You feel nothing.

You don’t even have to do anything, just let yourself get pulled down by the weight of the armour. Just let yourself sink. Maybe you’ll find the others. Maybe you won’t. Wherever this leads… it’s a step forward. Hopefully closer to him.

You see the arm again. Floating in the water. Severed. Bleeding. (Just like when you cut it off him.) You try to get closer, but you can’t reach. The armour still pulling you downwards. Like it’s getting heavier. That’s fine.

(You could take it off, but what use would that be? Not like it would change anything. And you need to get down anyways, right? What use would it be?)

You let yourself get pulled down.

Then you see the shape. Struggling. And for just a moment you think… You swim closer.

And then you recognize her small shape. Her pigtails.

Struggling. Drowning.

And for just a moment you think you can save her. For just a moment you call for her. For just a moment you try to get closer, heavy armour be damned.

And then she turns around.

For just a moment you see her face and you feel nothing.

For just a moment you imagine drawing the sword and cutting her throat. Stabbing her right through the heart, spilling her blood in the water, like the blood trailing from the arm.

You turn away.

You can’t do this.

Not like you could save her anyways, with the armour weighing you down, getting heavier and heavier. You’d just pull her farther down.

You can’t save her. You can’t save anyone. She’d have died either way.

You don’t feel bad about letting her drown. You don’t feel bad about wanting to kill her.

You feel nothing.

You let the weight pull you down.

You are alone.

It’s better this way.

You have to let go.