Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

Assimilation follows Andre through the door, feeling immediately the way the world past it drains them, limits them. They draw closer to Andre, melting further into his shadow.

The corridor is the same as they left it - the long line of doors, on and on.

Andre starts down the corridor, moving at a good clip. Assimilation rushes along with him. The facility seems to have rearranged itself in places, doors missing or locked, corridors bending at new angles, but Andre - the part of himself that calls themself Conzercheez - remembers many landmarks, and Assimilation remembers others. Between the two of them, they manage to steer well enough, seeing more and more familiar ground.

Then there’s a soft noise behind them, and Andre turns to look.

Where there was a door before, now there’s just a wall of bedrock.

Assimilation wraps around his feet, glancing ahead as best they can–

A surge of sensation. Hunger, emptiness, pain, hate. It presses in on them from without, drowning out their tiny darkness with its own vaster self.

They recognize it, of course.

It is them.

ANDRE RUN

Andre doesn’t need encouragement. He turns and bolts down a new corridor, rapidly placing blocks to get up to a door that would be inaccessible otherwise. He darts through it, letting it slam behind him as he keeps running.

But the emptiness builds. Assimilation can feel it closing in.

the shell of me andre

it is here andre

There’s a moment where Andre’s sure footing slips. A stumble.

Dark rushes down the corridor before Assimilation can answer. The lights set into the walls go out, one by one. A moment later, they flicker back on - no, they open. Eyes after eyes after eyes, staring, closing in. Assimilation can almost see through them, at the edges at their vision.

Andre starts to run again.

It is different.

Assimilation has watched him run and move many times. The smoothness, the precision, the sureness of his step. Now he scrambles along, stumbling in the dark, having to swerve wildly to avoid the walls.

Assimilation looks to the text around him for answers, but the only thing there is a wall of the same message.

There’s a door just visible in the dark. Andre shoves it open, stumbling through it, and immediately sets to barricading it behind him.

The room they’re in is small and dimly lit. A storehouse of some kind, maybe - there are containers here and there by the walls. The door they’ve just come in through is the only exit.

The dark does not follow.

it cannot follow andre

we can plan now andre

But Andre doesn’t respond. He stumbles back against the far wall, facing that barricaded door.

The errors have stopped, but the text is still a flood of noise.

andre?

Assimilation leans in, brushing against Andre’s side – and Andre pulls sharply away.

Assimilation hesitates, but draws back against another wall.

if you want andre

andre what do we do now andre

i may be able to influence it but that is not me andre

we will need a way around andre

andre?

Andre folds his face into his shaking hands. There’s that metal scraping noise that Assimilation has found themself beginning to hate as his fingers work over his forehead.

we have to do this andre

we cannot remain here

Dull anger runs through Assimilation, and he surges up, wraps in closer.

you promised me andre

Andre lowers his hands enough to look at him.

The anger ebbs. Assimilation hesitates, just a breath away from Andre.

i apologize andre

i know i have done harm to you andre

but we have worked together andre

can you not trust me now

For a few seconds, Assimilation has nothing to say. They just listen to that scraping noise, on and on.

you are still upset andre

why did you not tell me andre

we have had had time to talk andre

One of Andre’s hands drops, resting over his chest. To where that point of emptiness still rests, Assimilation’s anchor.

Assimilation hovers, uncertain, wordless.

In the silence, Andre sinks down slowly to an awkward slump on the floor. He curls in on himself more.

Assimilation settles down beside him as best they can, an awkward pool of shadow.

it has been hard andre

but we have gotten to see new things andre

we have gotten to exist and talk and know each other andre

we have met collin and kevin andre

is none of that worth it andre

Hesitantly, Assimilation stretches out a hand. A shadow cast onto a dark floor, little more.

i do not have answers andre

i do not know what we can do andre

but i know i do not want to go back andre

i know i do not want to forget you andre

i know i do not want to hurt you again andre

andre this is all i can promise

There’s another one of those metallic scrapes.

the same way i believe you andre

because you have shown it to me andre

For a little while, there’s no answer, just the soft scraping and the slight clatter of Andre’s trembling.

i do not know andre

but i hope i will be there to see it happen andre

Another long few moments pass.

Slowly, Andre’s hand leaves his face again. He rests it over Assimilation’s, there on the floor.

we do andre

but we will do it together andre

They take a little more time there, in the dim room. Finally, Andre straightens a little more, pulling his hand back. He looks away from Assimilation, tapping his fingers on his knee restlessly.

there is nothing to be sorry for andre

Assimilation relaxes a little themself, taking in the text. They draw back to Andre’s shadow.

i may have an idea andre

but you will have to trust me andre

For a few seconds, Andre sits where he is. Long enough Assimilation begins to worry again.

He rises, dusting himself off.

Assimilation rises with him, gathering in, swirling closer.

They wrap around Andre and lets themself rejoin the empty gap in his chest.

And then, at last, as they were made to do, as they were named for – they assimilate him.

It scrapes against the door, again and again, trying to claw its way in through any gap. It knows, dully, that so recently it could move through any surface, crawl along any shadow, watch from any wall. Here it feels deadened, pained. Some vital part is cut away from it, and it hurts.

It always hurts.

It always hurts, and hungers, and bleeds, feeling the wound where its heart was ripped away. It knows someone ripped it away. Someone held it and claimed it and left with it and since then it has only hurt.

There is someone beyond the door that shines with a light that aches. Someone who tore a gap through it with silver claws and left it to never heal. And if it can consume them then–then–then–

The door opens.

The thing that steps through is not that light.

It is empty, a cut in the world underneath silvery skin, a thing that stares with many eyes.

It is familiar.

It is its heart.

And before it can understand, its heart is already racing down the hallway, and all it can do is follow.