Chapter Text
Dirk is the strongest fighter you've ever met, inhuman in speed and stamina. But he's also injured, moreso now.
"Two kids?" Jane taunts, blocking your attack. "Really?"
"Boo fucking hoo." You snap. Dirk staggers for footing, and you catch Jane's savage grin. She lunges, Dirk grabs his sword up, and you move too late. In the last second, Dirk spits out something metal, throwing another something over his shoulder, and you're caught.
The dust from the explosion settles and you scramble to your feet. Your arm is twisted, probably sprained, but you're shockingly unharmed.
Dirk and Jane are wrapped together in an embrace, if there were no battle.
An embrace, but a gruesome and deadly one indeed.
As they collapse, it's obvious that Jane is dead, her arm and half of her head blown off, Dirk's sword skewering her neck in a bloody mess. Dirk is slumped over, and you dash towards him, terrified that he's dead, grabbing the medkit as you do so.
Dirk looks dead.
You pull at his shoulder tentatively, and jerk back in horrified disgust as Dirk ragdolls to the ground, completely limp.
There's a massive chunk taken out of his thigh and hip and between the dirt and blood you think you can see bone.
But he's breathing, narrow chest shuddering in shaky breaths as he lays there, hair completely matted with blood.
"Dirk?" You ask, staring at him, and like a goddamn miracle, Dirk opens his eyes, staring at you.
"Did it work?" Dirk asks hoarsely. Your legs give out, and you sit down heavily next to him.
"We should clean your leg." You say dully and Dirk raises himself up onto his elbows, wincing in pain. He looks down, blinks, and lays back down, staring at the sky.
"Probably. I don't have a lot of time left, though, so." Dirk says, a bit sleepy. "There's a shit ton of blood loss goin' on there."
"You can't die on me!" You protest. Dirk laughs quietly.
"June, I'm not even touching you. How will I die on you?" Dirk pauses. "It doesn't even hurt."
"No no no no." You pull your hoodie off, pressing it into Dirk's leg to try and stop the bleeding. Dirk gasps in pain, eyes flying open. You grit your teeth and keep putting pressure on with your knee as you dig through your kit with your other hand, pulling out as many bandages as you can. You eye the hydrogen peroxide with trepidation. Dirk follows your gaze and sighs, less on the side of "dying" and more "here we go again".
"Gimme." Dirk says, and you hand him the bottle. He opens it with his teeth and dumps some of it into the cut, wincing in pain. "In the long run that's not gonna do shit but right now it'll work. Fuck, ow."
You force him to lay back and start wrapping bandages, going through all the motions that Aradia taught you. Pack the wound as tight as you can, then bandage as thick as you can. Dirk doesn't help with lifting his leg at all, instead just frowning at the sky.
"I can't feel it." Dirk says quietly, when you're done with your work. You glance at him. Dirk's voice is steady, but his eyes are wide. "I can't feel my leg."
He struggles up to sitting, one hand clutching at his chest (another worrying thing). You pat his arm awkwardly. "It's probably just muscle damage. You'll heal!"
Dirk doesn't look comforted in the least, and instead grabs onto Jane's trident, wrenching it from her body, and using it to pull himself to standing. He glances down, tossing the weapon away. "I have no idea how this happened but I think my back is healed?"
"Zombie stuff maybe." You say. You glance over where Dave was and you know he's dead. Nobody can survive that much damage. Not even him.
"Where the fuck are we?" Dirk asks bluntly, limping forward, determinedly not looking at Dave's... at Dave. "I know Las Vegas but where in Las Vegas?"
"Beats me." You respond, trudging after him, past Jane, past Dave, and out of the wreckage. "We should find everyone else."
Dirk nods, shivering. You side eye him, but don't comment. The two of you manage to make it out of the area the battle took place in, and into a furniture store that looks zombie-free but bombed out. Dirk folds himself up on a chair, still shivering. You grab a nearby blanket from a display and hand it to him. Neither of you feel the need to talk much, it seems.
It's getting dark, you notice, and yank a moth-eaten curtain off of its rung, pulling it around yourself to stave off the chill. From the way that Dirk is curled up, still trembling, blanket wrapped tightly around him so all you can see is his hair, you don't think that he's doing okay.
Restlessly, you manage to get through the night, waking up at every little noise. When morning comes, you're more than thankful to get moving and find food.
"Dirk?" You shake his little blanket bundle gently, to no reaction. You put your hand on his back, to see if he's even breathing. Dirk shrugs you off, curling tighter. You leave him be. "I'm gonna try and find food, okay?"
When you get no response, you set out alone, dipping into a grocery store and loading up with water. The cases you pile into a shopping cart look reasonably new, which leads you to think that maybe people were hiding out here.
Stopping by your hideout to dump off the water, you check on Dirk. He hasn't moved from where you left him, but emerges at the promise of water, dumping a bottle out into a vase and immediately throwing the contents onto your head. You shriek in surprise, and Dirk sits back, satisfied.
"You'll attract bugs and zombies if you're bloody." Dirk rasps, shrugging the blanket off and doing the same to himself, peeling off his shirt first and handing it to you. "Let the other shit dry."
You accept the gift and change quickly. Dirk seems more alive, so you turn to him. "Wanna go and scavenge for food with me?"
Dirk shakes his head. "Save it for yourself."
You blink at him. "What? Dirk, you need to eat."
"I'm going to die soon, anyway." Dirk snaps, and you see that his eyes are red rimmed, tear streaks down the residual dirt on his face. It takes only a few seconds of staring one another down before Dirk breaks his gaze, staring at his hands. "It's not like I want to live."
"Don't say that," you say automatically. Dirk shakes his head again.
"What's there to live for? Both my brothers are dead, hell, I *killed* both of them. I'm a murderer." Dirk continues apathetically. "Who knows. I could just as well kill you too."
You flinch on instinct, and Dirk laughs drily. "See?"
"What about Jake?" You try, and he doesn't seem to care. You grab his arm, and Dirk freezes, slowly lifting his head to stare at you. You back off as Dirk's other hand speeds out towards your gun.
Cold steel presses against your chest.
You've seen wild dogs. You know that feral, furiously terrified stare. And you know what happens when they're cornered.
You get the hell out of there.
You leave Dirk behind, instincts kicking in, and you fucking *run.*
A singular bullet smashes through a window high enough above you that you know Dirk wasn't aiming for you, but you run faster all the same. The second gunshot sends you stumbling as you realize what he's done.
It's not until it's dark that you slow down, gasping for breath as you lean against a building. You grab at your phone to check your messages and swear when you realize you left it in the furniture store.
Also, you left your food and supplies there, because you clearly can't get smart, can you? So now you are unfortunately left with two options. Go back and risk being attacked by whatever zombies come for Dirk's body, or plow onwards and hope that you can find Jake or Karkat.
If they survived.
You decide to go find your friends.
You tell yourself you'll find them as you huddle in a fast food bathroom from a horde.
You tell yourself you'll find them when you come across Karkat's machine gun, empty of bullets and covered in blood.
You tell yourself you'll find them when you find Dave's body again, half rotted, half eaten.
You tell yourself you'll find them, even when your feet bleed from walking, when you can't remember the last time you had a shower, when you're so used to seeing death that you begin to see yourself as just another body.
You learn to survive on your own, salvaging weapons and making meals when you get them. You lose track of time. The only chronicle you have is the growth of your hair. You cut it short when it reaches your hips.
The years pass slowly, and every second you don't spend with your friends takes an eternity.
Your hair's waist length for the second time when you find him in the forest.