“You’re my favorite. Don’t ever forget that.” 💕

For Cayde.

I thought I knew myself.

We all like to think we know ourselves.

But we never truly do.

That is unless, if we are ever so lucky enough, someone comes into our lives who becomes our whole world and shows us our true selves.  Shows us what really matters to us and gives us the strength and courage to do the impossible. 

It may not be expected.  It may be gradual.  A slow, growing respect and admiration that is returned over the years.  A camaraderie that blossoms into a deeper friendship and trust where the lines blur between that and love.  It’s not something you can really pinpoint when it happens.  It’s just … there.  Hovering in the air whenever you’re near each other, comforting and warm.  Shared in a kind word or the giddy levity of a joke that hits just right.

I don’t really know what drew us together in the beginning.  He’s a Hunter.  I’m a Titan.  He’s an Exo, I’m an Awoken.  He loves to gamble and is a braggart.  I’m careful with my glimmer and tend to be on the quiet side. 

But opposites attract, right?  Least, that’s what he’d say. 

There was just something about him.  An air.  A lightness that belied the responsibilities he shouldered and the seriousness that both his job and what we did as Guardians often required of us.  He was kind and funny.  Offered up advice from his long time in the Wilds.  Was there for all Guardians, not just his Hunters.  And while he told the worst jokes, he also told the best stories.

I liked him.  A lot.  In fact, there wasn’t a single time I can recall when I was around him that he couldn’t make me smile or make me feel better.  Hopeful.  Safe, even.  With all we faced, all the enemies at our gates, all the worries that kept us up at night pacing the Tower hallways and staring up at the Traveler looking for guidance or answers … when I was around him, all that faded away and the world just felt right somehow.   

I wasn’t the one to make the first move that changed the dynamic of our relationship from just Vanguard and Guardian to friends.  I was never so bold in that regard.  Put me up against an army of hissing, gnashing Thrall and I won’t bat an eye.  But, at the time, ask me to walk up to him and say: “Hey, do you want to be friends?”  No.  No way.  I’d’ve been too scared.  And he didn’t exactly say: “Hey, let’s be friends.”.  It was more what he did that changed it all.  He’d start listening in on my feeds back to the Tower whenever I was out in the field running a strike or hunting down a target.  Every now and again I’d hear him chime in with some advice for me or a joke that would usually be so stupid I couldn’t help but at least smile at how stupid it was.  It usually drew exasperated sighs from Zavala or Ikora but I got the sense that they knew it was needed.  Especially in my early days on the Moon.  Going down into those pits.  At the time I was unfamiliar with the Hive and was trailing them down into the darkness.  The smells that permeated the breather in my hemet once I was down there … The lingering air of death all around.  The sound of brittle, rotted bone crunching under my boots and the echos of screeches and hair-raising chants that scratched at my ears. 

I remember thinking: “I can’t do this.  I can’t be a Guardian.”.  Even knowing if I died my Ghost would bring me back … it wasn’t the actual dying that scared me but the how.  The horror of the how that made me freeze in place.  The fear of being torn apart.

But he got me though.  

That time and all the others.

He always got me though.  

I’d just focus on his voice as he told me about his first ventures to the Moon.  About running into the Hive.  How they came spilling out of all the crevices and cracks in the ground around him like a massive swarm of ants.  Scared the hell out of him.  I’m not sure Zavala or Ikora approved of him telling me he was scared.  I think it was a no-no of sorts.  Can’t have a Vanguard admitting fear.  Some sort of appearance thing or code.  I don’t know.  It was something dumb.  And I know he didn’t give a damn about it because he’d known exactly what I needed to hear right then to get myself moving and do what needed to be done.  He always knew.  And it made me feel less alone down in those pits.

That’s how it started.

No matter where I went or what I was facing, he’d be there.  Even if he didn’t say anything at all, I’d gotten so used to the sounds on his end of the comms I’d know exactly when he was there.  The soft, very subtle hissing sound of his breath through the ridges of his nose.  The light clunk of the rim of his coffee cup against his metal lips and the sound of him drinking.  Then the clunk again as he set the cup back down on the table.  The shuffling of paper and an annoyed sigh that followed or the repetitive clicking of the two small plates on either side of his lips, his equivalent of grinding his figurative teeth because I’d gotten to know how much he hated paperwork.  All those subtle sounds that I don’t think anyone else would notice, I did.  And I’d focus on them.  And I’d know, if I ever needed anything, he’d be right there.

Like myself, I don’t know when things changed for him.  When he started feeling something more.  Even he’s told me he doesn’t know, himself.  It was just that gradual thing.  That slow transformation.  One day, it was just there.

He became everything.  Someone I just couldn’t live without.  

My light in the darkness.  

But that light … it was almost lost forever.

And that’s where this story begins.  In a cold, listing prison, on the far reaches of our system, where a Dark Prince and his Barons stole a Gunslingers Light.

It’s our story, yes.  But, more importantly, it’s the story of a man who saved me.  Who became my whole world.  Who I love endlessly.  

 It’s the story of the man they call Cayde.

CHAPTER 1

❣️♠️❣️

I am yours and

Everything that

Comes with that.

Your happiness is

Mine, just as your

Pain.

We are connected

In the good and the 

Bad.

In the triumphs

And in the suffering.

~JM Storm

Cayde lay motionless before me on the cold, rusted metal floor of Deck Zero.  

It felt like all the blood drained from body when I saw him, the cold of the open space around me seeming to seep past my armor to my skin and then right down to my bones.  I shivered.   Slow clopping of boot heels on metal.  I looked up, seeing Uldren strutting across the platform to the hatch that led to the escape pods.  The Barons were already standing there, just on the other side of the opening, waiting for him.  I couldn’t see their faces against the nausea-inducing magenta light at their backs.  I could only see the faint glow of their eyes.  Eyes that seemed to be smiling with proudful malice.  

A low, amused chuckle emanated from Uldren as he turned to face me, the cruel sound echoing off the metal hull.  He lifted the gun in his hand - Cayde’s cannon - giving it a little wave.  A taunting gesture.  A trophy.  “He didn’t feel a thing,” Uldren told me before casting a smug, self-righteous smirk my way.  I grit my teeth as anger and tears welled up and raised my gun, about to fire, but was too late.  The hatch door closed.

I didn’t care.

In that moment, the only thing that mattered was Cayde.  

I ran to his side, skidding down onto my knees beside him, dropping my gun and pulled my helmet off, tossing it aside so he could see my face.  I blinked tears away, my eyes adjusting to the dim light, and saw just how bad things were.  There was a hole in his chest and a black, oil-like substance was slowly seeping out onto the floor under him.  

“No.  Nononono,” I uttered under my breath as I pressed my hand over the wound desperately trying to stop the bleeding. 

Cayde let out a soft, painful grunt, laying his hand atop mine.  I looked him over, seeing even more blood spattered on his arms and down the left side of his body where is armor had been torn, exposing his ribs.  His right hip was also gnashed from the fight and appeared to be dislocated as well.  And when I looked up at his face, really saw it, my heart broke.  The left side had been badly damaged, the teal metal that made up his cheek ripped off and missing, more of the black-colored ichor oozing from the small pours of the structure underneath. 

I grit my teeth against the trembling of my bottom lip, my eyes stinging with more tears, my vision blurring. 

His Ghost - His Sundance - I knew she was gone.  There was no way to fix this.  I knew that.  But it didn’t stop me from trying to think up a way.  Any way.  There had to be something.  Anything!  

“H-how’s my hair?” He suddenly asked as he looked up at me, his voice metallic and echoing against the damage, coughing a little as he tried to chuckle.

“Cayde,” I softly whispered, shaking my head.

“Mmmngh.  That bad, huh?” He managed, shifting a little, wincing.

“I’m here,” I whispered, not knowing what else to say at the moment as Ghost appeared beside us, letting out a shocked gasp, his eye darting back and forth at what he was seeing.  “Oh no,” he uttered, immediately scanning Cayde as I moved behind him and sat, carefully easing him up, cradling his upper body in my arms against my chest.  I gently laid my palm back over the bullet wound, hoping against hope it would help somehow, ignoring the blood that was dripping all over my armor.  He winced at the process and coughed some more but, as soon as my arms were around him, his body relaxed and he grabbed them and held onto me with all the strength he had left.  

Ghost made a pained burble.  He was trying anything and everything he could to make something work to heal Cayde but to no avail.  I could feel Cayde against me, under my arms, breathing heavily - struggling to get in what air he could.  I could hear and feel the vibration in his throat down into his chest.  Air bubbles in the liquid filling his artificial lungs.  

He was dying.

“There’s nothing I can - I’m … I’m sorry,” Ghost finally said after scanning Cayde numerous times, confirming what I already knew.  It didn’t make it any less painful to hear.  There was so much regret and sorrow in Ghost’s voice.  I knew he wanted to help Cayde.  That he would have in an instant if he’d only had the power to do so.  

But he didn’t.  

He didn’t.

“Ais-” Cayde finally uttered, and I felt him squeezing at my arm. 

He knew. 

“It’s okay,” I whispered, nodding.  “It’s okay.  I’m right here,” I told him, laying my cheek to the side of his horn, my voice a thin, frail shadow of itself.  “I’ve got you.”  

He nodded a little.  “I-I’m sorry.”

“For what?”

“For being me.  Going rogue.  Getting you into - into this.  If I hadn’t - ”

“No.  No, shhhh.  ‘Kay?  Shhhh,” I soothed.  “It’s not your fault.” 

“This … this is why … you’re bad at poker,” he managed.

I wanted to laugh but I was afraid I’d start crying and never be able to stop.

Cayde coughed again, gasping in air as a low, steady trembling began to take over his body.  I closed my eyes, more tears falling, and kissed his temple.  “I’ve got you,” I whispered.  “I won’t let you go.  I promise.”

He shifted his hands, hugging my arms even tighter to himself, his breaths becoming more raspy, like he was drowning.  He kept shifting his left leg, moving it a little in clear frustration at the discomfort.  I started quietly humming a soft little song to him, giving him something else to focus on.  I felt his hands curl even tighter around my arms, trying to hug me as tight as he could while he coughed again, turning his head into me, pressing the side of his face to my chest as if it would shield him.  “Ais, I-”  He tilted his head back, looking up toward me.  The look in his face, it was like he’d wanted to say more, but he just didn’t know how.  Like there was an eternity of things he’d wanted to say and he regretted every moment he’d let slip by not saying at least one.  

The pain in his eyes from that was searing.  

I reached up and carefully held his cheek in my hand.  “I know,” I whispered, nodding, tears dripping from my eyes.  “I know,” I assured him.  “I love you, too.  Always.”

His features eased and the plates on his face that could still properly move shifted into a soft, elated smile, almost as if he were wonderfully surprised by my response.  Like it had been the one he was hoping for.  It belied the pain he was in.  

His blue optics suddenly warmed, like new life was sparked back into them.  

Then, just as suddenly, he gasped, his eyes widening.  “Ais …” He grabbed onto me.  And then … slowly, his body began to relax.  

My own eyes wide, I gaped as his began to fade.  “No.  No, Cayde!”  I shook him.  “Nonono!  Don’t go!” His features began to blur as my eyes filled with more tears, watching until his own were dark, his body going slack, slumping into me, lifeless and still.  “No.  Nonono.  Cayde!  Cayde!  Stay!  Please!  Please stay!” I pleaded as his head lolled back into my chest.  I shook him again.  “Cayde!” I screamed, his name bouncing off the metal all around us and then … nothing but a horrible silence.  When he didn’t respond, I felt as if all the air had just been ripped from my body, my heart shattering.  I pulled him up closer to me, rocking him gently, pressing my face to the side of his as I cradled his head and sobbed.  “Please come back,” I whispered.  “Please.  Please.”

*

I don’t know how long I sat there with him, numb, my body still gently rocking his as I held him.  My gloves and armor were soaked though with his blood.  I could hear Petra’s voice.  It was soft but seemed muffled and far off in the distance.  Eventually, I realized she wasn’t far away but crouched down right beside us, the weight of her hand reassuring on my arm, Ghost hovering beside her, his shell downcast.  “Aislin …”

I shook my head.  “I-I can’t,” I barely managed, holding onto Cayde even tighter, afraid she would take him from me.  “I don’t want to move him.”  Her single eye was brimming with unshed tears.  She was holding them back, her other hand on his shoulder, idly caressing it, as if somehow he’d still be able to feel it and know we were there; that we had him and he was safe.  She nodded, understanding, and took in a slow, shuddering breath as her gaze went from me to him.

I tilted my head, looking down at Cayde’s face, feeling my own unconsciously twist in pain.  With a shaking hand I slowly, very softly, trailed the backs of my fingers over his jaw.  He still felt warm against me.  I wanted to hold onto that.  To move meant that warmth would quickly fade.  To move meant I would never hold him again.  

But Petra was right.  We couldn’t stay here forever.  And Ikora and Zavala … they didn’t know.     

I had to take him home.

He would want to go home.

“Bring the ship around,” I finally managed to tell her, my voice broken. 

Petra slowly stood and watched me for a few more moments before turning to go.  Ghost floated down to my shoulder and settled on it, cuddling in against the side of my neck and jaw, as if trying to hug me in the only way he knew how.  I think if Ghost were capable of crying, he would have.  Even the usual bright glow of his shell was dimmed in sorrow.  I tilted my head toward him, feeling him shudder.

Looking back down at Cayde, if not for the damage to his face, it would almost look as if he’d simply fallen asleep in my arms.

I wish that were what had happened instead.

In fact, I found myself muttering how this all just had to be a bad dream and I was going to wake up any moment to us having fallen asleep together on the couch while watching an old movie.

And then it hit me like a punch to the gut.

There would be no more movie nights.  No more kicking back and making fun of silly, pre-Collapse films.  No more coming back from a mission to hot bowls of ramen or waiting cups of fresh coffee.  No more lazy chats in the Hangar while watching the ships come in.  No more regaling of his days in the Wilds with the old gang.

He wouldn’t … be here.  

I suddenly felt more alone than I ever had in any dark, endless pit.  I couldn’t help looking around the open dock, absently searching the shadows as if maybe, somehow, he’d be there.  His spirit.  His Light.  The soft blue glow of his eyes.  Anything.

But there was nothing.

Just the low, empty hum of the prison and the occasional creaking of cold, ancient metal. 

“Aislin?” Ghost murmured, his voice static-laced and worn.

I shook my head and caressed Cayde’s face once again, staring at it for a few moments, then leaned forward, gently kissing his forehead just beside his horn, letting my lips linger against the smooth, creamy metal.  It seemed like a moment to say something to him.  To whisper a promise to him - a pledge.  But there was nothing I could do but will myself to breathe. 

Finally, I found the strength to straighten.  I got my arms under him and got my feet under myself, then stood, picking him up, holding him carefully to my chest as if he were the most precious and delicate thing in all existence.  He felt so impossibly light in my arms; seemed so small and frail.  Not the man he usually was with the broad chest, the confident swagger, that air of pride that bordered on arrogance with an ego to match  and warmth that just … radiated. 

Now … now it was gone.

He was gone.

I felt my chest tighten again, my throat constricting impossibly tight, making it hard to breathe as I realized I’d never feel that presence again.  I nearly collapsed back down onto my knees with him as that sunk in.  

Somehow, though, I managed to stay on my feet and I managed to breathe.  “I’ve got you,” I whispered to him with a nod, holding him close, then headed for the opening in the wall toward the prison exit, my feet feeling like they were made of lead, dragging on the floor.