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buzz…. buzz…. 

pshhhkkkkkkrrrrkakingkakingkakingtshchchchchchch -   

“We interrupt this stream of cool croons from the Grove to bring you our daily - “

“Dun-dunda-dun-dunda-dun!”

“Halcyon Talks! Welcome back zone runners, dwellers, and rats of all ages and genres, this is Pollux  Foxglove-”

“And Castor Foxglove!”  

“Bringing you the current scripture and psychic readings. First and foremost, let’s get the weather out of the way. Halcyon’s brightest have sent us the meteorology reports just an hour or so ago and there is good and bad news to be had. Good news is the sun waves will be less fatal in the coming weeks as temperatures start to decline steadily.”  

“Which is great, because mom won’t freak out every time we leave the cave.”  

“I mean, she still probably will. The dracs did a real number on her when we got out of Battery.”  

“Fuck BLI kids. Just say no to exterminator cruelty.”  

“Anyway, temperatures will be dropping down this week to a manageable 120-125. So, still pretty hot, and unfortunately, the humidity will be rising a little  going from 0-10% to a 15-25%.”

“Muggy.”

“Better than last year, remember that week when we had all that acid rain and it left us at 89%?”

“Disgusting!”

“Vile.”

“Can’t wait for the winds to come in.”

“Well…. Okay, um, lemme find… here it is. Okay, so temps are dropping, we should be in the 110’s by the end of the month and then of course the winds will be picking up.”

“Like they do.”

“Yeah, and we have predictions that they are going to be… holy shit.”

“What?”

“Holy shit.”

“What?! Gimme -... holy shit.”

“Right?!”

“Destroya, save us.”

“Okay, so winds are going to start out at 25 to 40 miles per hour and pick up for the first half of the month to a high 75 to 105 miles per hour. That is the highest I have ever seen it, what is with this summer?”

“May Destroya protect us and the Phoenix Witch spare us. Signs of bad times to come.”

“Yeah, okay, mom, sure. Um. Well. I mean, it could be a lot of reasons, the weather is still fluctuating from everything that’s happened over the years and there’s still radiation to wonder about.”

“Well, if it’s just the highest prediction, it probably won’t even get that high. And if it’s only for the first half of the month, the highest will last what? Two, three days?”

“Usually. Um…. okay, so we’re gonna look more into this with our own pressure systems, but uh… the temperatures are dropping so, start hunkering down, keep hydrated, and protect yourself from the sun rays. The increase of humidity is gonna make you wanna strip, do not do that unless you are adequately protected. Wave radiation is still a thing, everyone, be careful even with working on the high wind hunkering.”

“Hey, wanna hear a fun fact?”

“What?”

“Once upon a time, the Desert Winds used to be called the Santa Ana Winds.”

“...Why?”

“What?”

“Why were they called the Santa Ana Winds?”

“Oh. I dunno. I read weather reports not history books.”

“Then why even bring it up?”

“Because it’s a fun fact.”

“But what good is it if- y’know, whatever. Um, next up, we’re bringing in our local Cabaret Casanova to join us in our hourly tabletop conversation on the correlation of the weather and the human psyche.”

“Don’t wanna miss that. I made flashcards.”

“He did. He really did.”

Victor has been scolded before.

It feels exactly like this.

He’s been summoned out here to the Mother Garden - rightfully named because it’s Flower Chain HQ and where their noble leader herself lives. Located in an undisclosed location, it’s a large Hacienda style building that was once a large plaza filled with restaurants and store fronts and called the California Hotel before that, it stands tall and bright in the desert landscapes. With it’s white bleached walls and terracotta tiling, it’s a shiny oasis to anyone lost and in need.

Beyond the front gates is a courtyard filled with dozens of succulents and single tiled walkway leading into a bright yellow gazebo in the center of it all. This is where he is seated. At the teal colored, wrought iron table, in one of it’s hand painted wooden chairs, placed dead center in this gazebo, with Sunflower herself standing straight and staring down at him right on the other side.

(This is a flashback to when he had made the police chief’s daughter cry with some remark he had made 20 years ago after she made fun of his braids. This is the exact replication of the scene between him and his mother in their kitchen.)

That much probably isn’t a surprise though, as Sunflower has a distinguished method of leadership which makes her seem more motherly and matronly than anything. Which makes sense considering that she does not look at all like someone who is the leader of the most intricate, influential, and largest gang the Zones has ever seen.

She is tall, taller than even Georgi, but not imposing. Her frame is large, but not intimidating. Her hair is a bold blonde shade, and cropped short, and it keeps her face looking round and soft. Her tone is usually firm and carries this sense of finality, but her voice is still always delicate and even sounds fragile at times. Her eyes are a sharp blue, clearer than Victor’s, and when directed at a person, they pierce like ice.

But like ice, he’s seen them melt. He has seen Sunflower through righteous anger and more often than anything he’s seen her through so many tears.

So. Many. Tears.

(She prays daily - to Gods of old or new, he doesn’t know, but she does and she always cries when she does. She’s cried over the fallen and the living, and on one terrible occasion, Victor himself.)

Anyway, today Sunflower looks tired, and considering her work load, she probably is. It adds to the atmosphere of him sitting here, in front of here, in the middle of her own domain, makes him feel small and ready for a parental lecture. And it’s probably justified. They did lose a lot of laundry.

“In my defense,” he says before she says anything at all, “I needed to lead quickly, and I only partially regret the orders I gave.”

The corner of her mouth quirks up sharply, and her eyebrows go up.

“I thought you were done giving orders,” she says, smartly.

Well… he can’t really say anything back to that. Victor opens his mouth, then closes it. Then he gives her a little shrug.

Sunflower closes her eyes, and sighs. 

“Do you remember what I told you?” she asks. “All those years ago, when you wanted to leave?”

The past is a terrible thing to dwell on, he thinks. It’s too messy and it’s always too hot. It’s just better to keep running. 

That’s probably not the answer she’s looking for, though.

“You said that anonymity can be just as dangerous as notoriety,” he answers.

That right there is the right answer, and her approval is shown with a quick nod in her head. He shouldn't feel as satisfied as he does, but damn he does. Sunflower just does that to a person.

“There is no target on your back anymore,” she says, “but the work you do now still needs caution. Don’t think I’m scolding you, because I’m not. Or at least not like I used to anyway.”

Victor can’t help it. A smile begins to spread out onto his face and he looks up at Sunflower just in time to see her exasperation. It doesn’t last long though, as she melts into a smile of her own.

“I don’t care about the laundry,” she says, but cuts herself off. “No, that’s not true, I do because the dwellers put their trust into our system and we need to deliver in order to keep what we have, and then some. It’s a lot of responsibility to keep track of it all, and I trust you with it. I just want to make sure that you are being careful, and if it’s because the workload is getting too big, I have no problem sending some-”

“No,” he interrupts. “No, Sunflower, It’s-... We’re okay. What happened to one of my own was just an accident. He’s affected by the wave radiation, he has been ever since I met hm. He was a wave head, so we take precautions, but this time… it was just an accident.”

He’s telling the truth. What happened to Georgi was an accident that could have been prevented, but for one thing or another, it wasn’t. It just happened. That’s all.

“Will he be okay?” asks Sunflower, and why, why does she always sound ready to cry?

“He’ll be fine,” Victor tells her. “Ichiyo has been looking after him. She says his condition is good, and he should wake up any day now.”

“Oh, bless that woman,” she says, and dabs at the corner of her eyes. “I’ll let you in on something. I’m going to pull the Imperial Trio from the roster and keep them grounded locally.”

He blinks.

“But why? They’ve been on standby since the Sierra Expansion.”

“The Sierras,” she sighs and slumps down gently into a chair of her own.  “There’s another headache. Don’t misunderstand me, I’m very glad that we have the base again, and hopefully we keep it this time, but it’s been a lot of work figuring out the technicalities. It’s an extension of us , after all, we can’t very well just ship them off and leave them alone. There’s just… some kinks that need to be worked out.”

He wants to ask her about them. He wants to know the details. He wonders if he could come  up with a solution.

Victor keeps his mouth shut.

“Anyway,” she says, “I need to think of civilian healthcare down here, first and foremost. Ichiyo is one of my few petals who has training and knowledge from Before. I would like her to teach and help expand that knowledge. My Shiragiku has a green thumb and that’s been beneficial to the agriculture around here, and he has a more stealthy approach to fighting that is useful to teach as well. Ukon… Well, he’s enthusiastic. Anything he wants to pursue, I’m sure he will do so exceptionally.”

Victor doesn’t hold back the small laugh that bubbles in his throat. He can’t imagine the kind of deflated reaction Kenjiro would have if he ever heard Sunflower talk about him that way. But it’s not like she said anything bad about him, really. He does try and work very hard.

Sunflower gives him a long side glance. It makes him stop laughing midway, makes him fake a cough to cover it up, but he doesn’t think it’s very effective. She waves it off, anyway.

“Don’t stop laughing,” she says. “Things are serious enough as it out here, I encourage everyone to have a good laugh when they can.”

“Have you really seen some of the killjoys these days?” he asks her. “I don’t think we have a problem with things being too serious.”

“Maybe it’s just the ones around me, then,” she smiles. “Speaking of…”

Victor knows that smile and it dawns on him. He wasn’t dragged out here for a scolding. It’s worse.

“Oh, no,” he mutters.

“Oh, hush. But I know what you’re thinking, and no, I didn’t just call you out here because of the laundry incident. Even though I really was, and still am, worried about your squad member, and I’m really very happy to hear that he will be well again. But… I would like to know… if you wouldn’t be willing to work under me again. Directly.”

Victor isn’t sure what kind of face he makes, but he knows he makes one if the reaction he gets from her is any indication. She makes a little wheeze at first, like sucking in too little air before giggles spill out instead. She hides her smile with her hand and sighs heavily with it falling away. Her eyes fall heavy and she looks even more worn out than before.

“Is it really that awful of a request?” she asks. “It would get you out of the sun, more help, easier work loads. I wouldn’t expect you to abandon the career you made out here entirely. I like to think I know you better than that.”

“Do you now?”

“In some respects. I can’t say that I know everything that goes through that head of yours, but I do know that you’ve always been loyal,” she says. “Even to people who are no longer here. Cherri left you the mantle, he wanted you to have it.”

He’s heard that before…

“You should just fill it with someone else,” he tells her. “Someone who wants it. Or who would want it.”

“It’s yours to inherit.”

“Doesn’t mean I need to though.”

“I trust you,” she confesses. “Not to say that anyone else is untrustworthy, but I have always trusted your judgement when it comes to the more important things around here.”

“I really wish you wouldn’t,” he says, honestly. “I really do.”

“If I didn’t I wouldn’t have a new Violet on my chain,” she replies. “So there’s that.”

Well, that… that is true. Still, Victor has feelings about this subject, and unfortunately Sunflower wants to continue.

“I do understand that I am more or less pressuring you here,” she tells him. “I know that. I would like it, I will never lie about that, and I always thought you would be the one to be the successor. Even when they were talking about the possibility of him dying before any of the Valkyries, Yakov said that as unbelievable as it was, he thought you were the only one capable of taking over.”

“But he’s dead too,” Victor snaps. “So it doesn’t really matter what he thought, or what he wanted. He’s not here to do anything about it.”

And that’s the finality of it. Sunflower nods once and leans back. It’s another day, and it’s another battle, and she’s come to know which ones she can win. This is not one of those.

Somewhere above them there is footfalls and quiet talking on the balcony. Someone laughs, and a door opens. There’s music, and then it closes, and then nothing.

“I just want you to know,” she says, carefully, “that there was no way you could have stopped him… in time. And if you hadn’t done what you did… he could have done so much more wrong.”

He closes his eyes.

“Their deaths are not on you. ”

He opens them again.

“I know that,” he says. “I have known that.”

She gives him the barest hint of a smile. “A reminder, then. Also remember that if you ever need anything, or anyone, you can always find me here. Magnolia will take you home. She should still be waiting out front by the car.”

Sunflower does not rise, but it is a dismissal. Victor stands from his seat, with pins and needles in his thighs even though the visit was not a long one. It feels like it’s taken forever. He’s never like the idea of walking away from her when it’s time to go - it feels entirely too much like turning his back on her, and she’s been so kind to him, to all of them, but there really is no other way to leave.

He doesn’t get very far.

“Victor,” she calls out to him, and he stops.

He only turns halfway, sees her still leaning back in her chair, looking out at him from the protection of her gazebo.

“We hold in our hearts,” she says, “the sword, and the faith.”

It's all she says, and nothing more. Victor, with the sun beating above him and a strong want to get back to the shelter, nods once at her. Then leaves.

He's on auto pilot from then on. 

Magnolia, the same killjoy that had driven him here, is still standing out by the car. He doesn’t get to register what she says exactly, just know that she asks if she’s meant to drive him back and he tells her yes. He gets into the backseat and stares out the window for the entire ride back.

He just wants to go home.

At the shelter, when he finally makes it back, there’s distant chattering coming from the back. Mila is probably inside looking after Georgi, and knowing that much he walks back to the garden. There he finds both Yuris digging up the soil and soaking the earth underneath it with water. They’ve done a lot of work together in the short time since everything has happened. 

Yuri has grown a lot from the little brat that Victor took in all those years ago, but he isn’t sure if he should actually tell him that the two of them make a good team. He’s still prone to a tantrum now and again, still hot-headed and all. He’ll just make do with watching them from afar right now that he doesn’t have their attention.

“I wanna be able to get the pumpkins back in before the end of the summer,” says Yuri, with his long hair hanging heavy with sweat. “That way we could have them harvested by the fall.”

“For carving?” asks the prettier Yuri.

“No, that’s a waste of food. Georgi makes this like, pumpkin goulash and it’s one of the shiniest meals he has on his menu.”

“I don’t think I’ve actually had any of his cooking.”

“That’s cos you’re not that special.”

“Heh, yeah, I guess not.”

“Exactly. Anyway, I wanna get them back in first and then the corn so we can have them before their season ends.”

“Is that gonna be done in time before the winds start to pick up?” Victor cuts in their conversation to ask.

He apparently startles them both, as they both jump back a step and act as if they hadn’t just been cosied up to each other and getting along. It puts Victor back into a good mood and he even laughs again.

“Afraid of me thinking that you two are becoming friends?” he asks, and approaches them closer.

“No one is being friends,” Yuri mutters and goes back to dumping the rest of his bucket into the trench. “We’re just getting work done.”

“Is that so?”

“Don’t tease him,” says the nicer Yuri. “He gets itchy when you mention the f-word. I think he’s allergic.”

“That’s not true, I hear him say it all the time.”

Yuri laughs in a way that makes him cover his mouth with a free hand and look bashful for daring to be so loud. It tugs Victor’s hear strings. Makes everything that was said earlier in the day feel like it never happened at all.

“If the two of you are just going to stand around being assholes, then you can get the hell out of my garden,” Yuri grouses at them.

“Your garden?” Victor exclaims. “Georgi isn’t going to like that.”

“Yeah, well until he wakes up it’s under my supervision, therefore my garden. Law of the desert.”

“And they say that all the lawyers are gone,” Yuri mutters to him.

“Yeah, we have all sorts of tall tales out here,” he replies. “Anyway, Mila still inside with Georgi? How is he?”

“She is,” Yuri tells him. “And he’s doing fine. I checked his vitals before I got to work out here and he’s stable. He’s hydrated again, at least. I hope he wakes up soon.”

Victor gives him a small smile, and says, “So do I.”

Yuri looks at him tentatively, and slowly, with his hand lowered now, he returns his smile with a soft one of his own. 

It’s the smallest moment between them that is reminiscent of what they’re relationship used to be - calm, easy going, friendly, warm,  and it speaks volumes that they’re able to do this again after all of… that . Victor is, if anything, a man that knows when something is too good to be true, and as much as he wants this to lead to something more than it is, he knows it’s coming. Something to ruin it, startle them both out of it, and it’ll end as quickly as it came. 

And it does.

“Hey!” shouts the moment-killer. “You gonna keep batting your eyes lashes at him, or are you gonna come help me out with the next part?”

Yuri flushes red so fast that all Victor had to do was blink and his entire face had become a different color. It’s pretty funny, and he’s only a little sorry for the laughter.

“I’m not batting my lashes!” Yuri whirls around to shout back, but the other Yuri isn’t listening. He’s kneeling in an open trench with his hands on his hips, looking unimpressed as ever and it stresses Yuri to yell again. Just to make sure his point is being made. “I’m not batting them.”

He looks back to Victor. “I’m not,” he says. “I’m really not. I didn’t mean for that- But I didn’t?”

“I know,” is all Victor says because… well, because he does.

“Okay. But I really wasn’t. I- I should get back to work.” He walks off back to Yuri, but not before turning real quick to say again, “I wasn’t batting my eyelashes!”

“I know,” Victor replies, and hopes that Yuri doesn’t walk into that open trench. 

It would be awful to have more than one person be put into a coma on their territory, and lucky for them that isn’t the case this time. Yuri makes it safely back to Yuri’s side and he can faintly hear their conversation, but not enough to actually make out.

He only watches for a second or two longer before turning around himself and makes his way into their shelter. He knows better than to watch for something that he really shouldn’t, and though he doesn’t see the way Yuri looks back over his shoulder to see him leave, or the ensuing teasing that comes from it, he’s content to let it be whatever it is right now.

It’s not really all that disappointing, honestly. It’s more hopeful, if anything.

Maybe they’ll be okay.

“I’m taking Yuri to the Grove."

Victor sits up from his stitching and his back immediately pops. Id it makes his grimace as he shakes his body awake; like he needs reminding of his age. If he doesn’t do some stretches soon he’s going to end up taking Yuri’s ‘old man’ nicknames to heart.

Luckily, he seems to be the only one to notice the creaking in his bones, as Yuri himself pops up from behind Mila with that ever present scowl on display. His face looks to be freshly washed, and his hair has been pulled into a high ponytail that shows off the definition of his cheekbones.

(It makes Victor think that Yuri would have made a good model. But then that also begs to question what his behavior would be like in a world like that.)

(Probably more insufferable. The thought makes his crack a smile.)

“We’ve been over this,” Yuri huffs. “When we’re in the same proximity of each other, you refer to us by our numbers and letters.”

“You’re ridiculous,” Mila scoffs.

“It’s our system.”

“Fine,” she sighs and rolls her eyes hard. “Yuri-1 is in the garden, and I’m taking Yuri-A to the Grove so he can help out Beka with whatever the hell it is they’re doing now.”

“Thank you,” says Yuri, all while sounding very pleased to have his way.

(Yes. Insufferable.)

“I’m also gonna be heading out for the diner,” she goes on to tell Victor as Yuri ducks out of view. “Sarah wants me to train her some with her blaster.”

“That’s a good idea. She’s got a good aim, but she can work on her stamina."

“Yeah, so we’ll both be back at around sundown.”

Victor frowns. It’s barely past noon. But… that would seem right, if they were to have plans. But Yuri is left alone in the garden. That hardly seems fair. He tells Mila as much, and she only shrugs at him.

“He said it was fine,” she tells him. “Said that there wasn’t too much work to be done so when he is done, he’ll come in to send a transmission for pick up.”

“I guess if he’s sure,” Victor says, but still frowns.

“Don’t worry your pretty head about your strappin’ young man,” she teases. “He’ll be fine out there. I say just worry about the mess you got goin’ in here. Is that what Dolorosa came knocking for?”

The mess she’s talking about is Victor’s current commission - a large scarlet ballgown with layers of chiffon and embroidered gold filigree. Slicing the cut-outs and pinning them to pieces of old newspapers took up the better half of a week and cost a good of carbons already. He doesn’t know how long it will take him to stitch it all up let alone how long it will take to complete the embroidery. At least he was able to talk her out of making it bone in and corseted.

“It’s for Novocaine's New Year’s Party,” he tells her.

“Well,” she says and looks at the amount of space he’s taken up inside, “At least she came asking early enough. I admire a Joy that wants to shine bright in time.”

“Oh, no, it’s not for her, it’s for Novocaine.”

“Even better. But yeah, we’re taking off, see you tonight?”

“Not going anywhere else,” he says and stoops over again. “If I give you some carbons, will you bring back one of their family meals for dinner?’

“I’ll barter for it,” she tells him. “Don’t have too much fun without us. Gonna get some dracs out here with all the commotion.”

Victor pulls a Yuri and flashes her a finger, having her leave him be in a flurry of laughter and a closed door. He takes one good look at Georgi who hasn’t moved since they placed him in his bed. He looks more like he’s just sleeping now, and compared to his previous catatonic state, it’s a huge improvement. That’s what Yuko says anyway, all of them just want him to wake up now.

With that, Victor swipes at the sweat collecting on the back of his neck and picks up his needle again.

He stays like that for who knows how long. He’s too preoccupied with his needlework that he doesn’t even listen to his stomach rumbling or how the sun from the opened window travels across the floor. Nothing calls his attention, up until there’s static coming from their transmitter. 

Theirs is an old model  - the newer transmitters are akin to the hologram projections in old Star Wars movies and are rare to own in the city much less the Zones. For the most part everyone owns at least one, or is nearby one, that came out at the ends of the war; something that looked like an old CB Radio with a landline phone connection or speaker. Some have a screen, usually the pocket transmitters, but Victor didn’t see the reason to go more high tech when the majority aren’t able to send a picture anyway. Besides, the hard static that hits first when a transmission comes through is a lot more noticeable than the low and slow rhythmic beeping of the other, and it’s just the thing that gets Victor's attention away from his work.

He puts the fabric down on the floor next to him and picks his way across the room to where the transmitter is already yelling at him, whoever it is is speaking fast and keeps getting cut out by static. He hopes this isn’t too big of an emergency. Not when it’s just him here.

“-pick up - hear me - I’m trying… “ the other line says. “-hitting us soon, so I don’t - … Victor!”

It sounds like Mila.

Victor pick up the line, presses the receiver to his ear and answers, “This is Local 5543, Vendetta Red, is this you?”

“Thank god!” comes the other line, a little bit clearer, but not much so. “Oh, thank- Okay, yeah it’s me, hey! I’m boarded up with Sarah and Mickey right now, there’s a dust storm plowing through Ragtown right now from Old Vegas. I guess it picked up past the Bar Strip and the South Winds collided with it, I don’t know. Anyway, it’s coming in fast, and I’m gonna hunker down here for the night if it lasts too long.”

“What about Yuri!?”

“He’s in a shelter with Otabek, he’s the one that gave us a heads up, they got the first hand report from Halcyon when it hit 6’s borders in the studio.”

“He’ll be okay, then,” Victor sighs. “Yeah, he’ll be fine.”

“Yeah, he’ll be fine, what about you and the other Yuri? Not to mention Georgi’s coma ridden self.”

Oh.

Shit.

“Shit, I think he’s still in the garden.”

“Are you a slice of angel food or what, I cannot - you know what, yeah, I can.You definitely would get caught up in whatever you’re doing and forget he was outside. Get out there and get your boy and hunker down, cos if the way waves are cutting in and out, it’s picking up quick.”

She hangs up on him, and Victor is quick to do the same. He hasn’t noticed the change in the weather, mostly because they’ve been keeping the shutters shut tight to keep the sun out. Despite it being stuffy, it definitely is cooler inside with them closed and that makes it better to keep Georgi’s temperature in check. So, when Victor does leave the shelter for the first time in hours, he’s blown away.

Literally.

The Desert Winds have always been strong - they’ve been known to rip off the rooftops of shelters and homes and tear out the joshua trees from the open plains to send them tumbling into nearby settlements. It’s not the first time that they would knock over a grown man like he was nothing more than an empty paper towel roll, and it certainly won’t be the last.

In any case, Victor ends up falling into one of the posts on their front porch and rights himself up, wills himself to keep his footing as he breaks away from the post and makes his way out to the garden.

The dirt and dust are kicking up enough to be a nuisance, but nothing hard enough to travel with the wind just yet. There is the rumbling of what’s to come looming in the distance, though, and if the way it howls says anything, it won’t be too long. Victor’s hair is flying everywhere and his shirt billows from the wind swooping beneath it as he shields his eyes and pushes through the garden gates. Several tools have already been flung across it and are pinned against the far wall, and nearly all of the plants have been secured down with stakes and netting.

Yuri is crouched nearby and tying some netting down to one of the last remaining garden beds. His hair is being blown about wildly and he gives off no sign to actually being bothered by the change in the weather as he keeps working as diligently as ever.

“Hey!” Victor calls out to him. “Yuri! Yuri, there’s a sand storm coming our way!”

Yuri, who doesn’t stop working, only shouts back, “I know! You can tell!”

Well.

Victor stands still, and alongside the whistling of the wind and the sound of tumbleweeds hitting the garden walls, watches for a few startled seconds as Yuri gathers his supplies and moves on to the next open garden bed.

“You want to come inside?” he asks, because he really isn’t sure.

“I’m almost done,” Yuri answers, and kneels down.

Okay.

This is not usually the reaction that comes with a storm capable of throwing a grown individual off their feet, but there really has to be said something about his work ethic. Victor’s a little impressed.

But not impressed enough to not get him back inside.

“Come on,” he says and approaches the other man. “We have to make sure everything is secured tight and get back inside.”

“But there’s still beds left uncovered,” Yuri tells him, and sounds like he’s unsure about leaving his task unfinished.

“Me getting you safe inside is a little more important than that. Come on,” he says, and offers him his hand. “We gotta get back inside.”

“But the garden-”

“Please, Yuri, I don’t wanna see you become another Revenge Hellion.”

He makes a face at the name (one that belonged to a poor soul that wanted to ride the Desert Winds one year and didn’t make it out in one piece) and finally, finally , puts down his tools and looks at Victor’s hand. 

Around them the dust picks up, one of the tumbleweeds that has been hitting against the garden fence is lifted up high into the air and is thrown inside. It tumbles around them even though neither one of them is paying any attention because Yuri still looks like he hasn’t decided whether or not this job or his life is more important, and Victor is starting to stress a little over the fact that his hand has been out for this long and still hasn’t been taken - would it be weird to pull it back now? It would be, wouldn’t it? He has no idea.

To his relief, Yuri ends up taking his hand in his and allows Victor to hoist him up.

(He’s not going to dwell on how well Yuri’s hand fits in his own.)

(Or even how he’s definitely holding back a little on the tight side.)

(Because that doesn’t mean anything.)

(No.)

(Not at all.)

“What do you usually do to secure the house?” Yuri asks him and drops his hand, instantly snapping Victor back to what’s happening.

“We just gotta make sure the windows stay locked shut and that the supply shed is secure,” he answers. “We haven’t been blown away so far, so it shouldn't take us that long."

"Just tell me what to do," Yuri tells him, and Victor does.

The shutters have been kept tightly closed since Georgi went under so those aren't too much of a concern. Victor asks Yuri to double check their water barrels - make sure they're chained securely and nail them shut. Victor makes sure that their supply shed is still holding strong. Milan didn't get a chance to fix the roofing on that just yet and he is a little worried.

He drags the ladder to it and scales it quickly to get onto the roof. He doesn't stand up fully, he keeps low to avoid being blown off and gives the whole thing a once over. It's still intact for the most part, only a few hanging over the ledge look like they're in danger of being torn off, but they can live with the damage. Satisfied with that much and with how stable it still seems to be, Victor is ready to climb down and head inside.

(But when has his life ever been that easy?)

From out of nowhere, a gust of wind passes through their patch of the desert - something fierce and unapologetic with the velocity it tears through, it kicks up dust high enough to make him stumble back with his arms braced high to block his eyes away from the storm. Now, with his vision impaired and his balance off, the wind takes no mercy and bellows towards him with every intention of knocking him off the ledge.

And it does.

Victor's eyes go wide and his stomach drops hard the second he feels one of his feet land on nothing. Anyone would think that upon such a startling revelation that a sudden drop is going to happen, common sense says to reflex away from it.

Common sense and nature's determination to reclaim her power though don't  know each other. Or at least pretend to have never met.

In any case, Victor tries to throw himself forward, but is pushed further back until he ends up slipping over the edge entirely. It's not like the fall from their shed is going to kill him, but it will hurt and it's all he can do to pray nothing is below him that could puncture a lung or worse because there isn't even enough time to brace for impact.

Except it never comes.

Instead Victor falls into the stronghold of Yuri’s arms. The wind is still knocked out of him, but in a different way. Instead of hitting on the hard floor, he’s jostled into Yuri’s chest and his knees are elbowed with the fumbling it takes to make sure the hold is secure, but it’s infinitely better than what it could have been.

Victor really doesn’t have the critical thinking skills right now to put together just how hard Yuri is breathing with how tight his hold is to really come up with the fact that he must have sprinted to catch him, but all that aside, Victor can only be in awe as he’s apparently been transported into a harlequin romance novel. The hard wind blows his hair about wildly, really giving Yuri that wind swept hero look and instead of taking in the concern of his eyes, Victor can only really stare at the sharp cut of his jaw.

(This might be bad.)

"What were you doing up there?" Yuri asks, sounding worried as hell and probably for good reason too.

"Making sure the roof wouldn't blow away," he says like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. 

Yuri looks at him like that was the stupidest way to go about it, and maybe it was, but damn… he's always done it that way.

(He isn't  going to tell him that.)

"I think it's starting to hit us," Yuri says, and keeps a tight hold on him. "Is there anything else that we need to secure?"

"No," Victor tells him. "That's all there is. Let's get inside."

Yuri gives him a short nod and braces his footsteps as they head back to the shelter.He doesn't put Victor down for whatever reason, instead opting out to hold him close to his chest with an impressive strength and carries him back.

(This whole  getting over him is going to be harder than he thought.)

(This is bad.)

They get to the door where a problem comes up: If Yuri is carrying Victor like a princess bride, then how is the door going to be open for them to reach safety? Another obvious answer, but for some reason it seems to stump him as he stands in front of the door and does nothing more.

“Um, you can let me down now,” Victor tells him. It would be the last thing he wants, but right now that would be being caught out here in this. He would rather be inside.

His words spark something in Yuri, and it’s as if he’s just now noticed that he’s been carrying Victor along this whole time like a valiant knight and immediately drops him. Victor might have escaped the fall from the roof, but the fall from Yuri’s arms is just as painful if for other reasons beside hitting the porch floor with his whole ass.

“I’m sorry!” Yuri cries out. “I’m sorry! Oh, my god, I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to do that!”

“It doesn’t matter,” he groans. “Really, I’m fine, let’s just get inside.”

There isn’t any time to feel embarrassed -  the storm is rolling in, they need to be inside.

Victor is up on his feet and he pulls the door open. He ushers Yuri inside, and follows straight after, closing the door shut and locking it tight. He uses some of the nearby scraps of fabric to bunch up and stuff at the bottom to keep dirt from blowing in, and when that’s done it blocks out the last of the noise from outside. They’re kept safe and locked down with just a muffled background of what’s going on around them.

“So…” Yuri trails off and gets Victor’s attention back on him. “What now?”

The only answer is to wait out the storm. There isn’t much fresh produce inside but there are cans of power pup and other things from Tommy’s shop and enough water to get them through the night; which will probably not happen, but just in case it shouldn’t be longer than that. Regardless, what ends up happening is Victor and Yuri both end up on the floor surrounded by fabric - Yuri acting like an embroidery hoop and stretching out pieces at a time for Victor to pierce with his needle as the storm rages on outside. Neither one of them is too worried about that, it doesn’t sound like one of the bad ones, and it should pass by before the night ends.

“You were right about this place being secured,” Yuri says. “It’s really grounded isn’t it?”

“Well after the last place we took up shelter in got swept away by the winds, Mila made sure this one would be sturdy enough to keep still. She did a good job at it too, the only way we’re going down is if the sun itself burns us down.”

The small talk isn’t bad. Sometimes it gets a little stilted, but in Victor’s opinion, there isn’t anything awkward between them. He’s thankful just for that.

“What is this for?” Yuri asks him, and clenches on to the fabric just a light tighter.

“Novocaine is having a New Year’s bash or something like that,” Victor tells him. “I don’t think dwellers  are supposed to know yet, but his sister came by to put an order in for a huge ballgown to be ready in time.”

“She’s really going all out.”

“It’s for him.”

“Oh. Well, still the same, I guess.”

A lull in the conversation, but again, there isn’t any tension to make it uncomfortable. For a short while there is nothing but the sound of the wind knocking against the wood of the walls, and the occasional howl or whistle of it as it travels through the desert landscape. Victor’s needle being pushed and pulled through the stretched fabric makes the softest whisper of a sound when the rest of the world melts into the background for those brief moments of silence outside.

It’s the embodiment of contentment. Honestly. 

“Have you been in here all day doing this?” Yuri asks.

“More or less. I like to get the embroidery parts out of the way first, everything else is easier to piece together and it goes by faster.”

For a split second, Victor’s eyes flicker up to see Yuri’s expression. He doesn’t really know what to expect to see, but the clear admiration of watching him work is not lost on him. It’s the same way that those viral videos would go around - cake decorating, lace work, painting, anything that involves watching a skill happen creates a sense of wonder in the viewer. He’s used to this as well, because when the four of them are holed up during a storm like this, there’s very little entertainment wise for them to do after a while, so they all end up watching Victor work.

It’s the way the younger Yuri got roped into it, and even Mila’s learned how to sew some of the more complicated stitches. It passes the time, and it’s fun to teach.

“Do you want to learn how?” he asks him, thinking this could be one of those opportunities, but Yuri immediately shakes his head no.

“There’s no way-” he says quickly. “No, I can’t- I wouldn’t be any good at it.”

“No one’s good at it in the beginning, but that’s what learning is.”

“I would mess it up.”

“We got five months to fix it if you do.”

“No,” Yuri says with such conviction. “Really, I couldn’t.”

Which is exactly how some ten minutes later their roles are reversed and Victor is stretching the fabric out for Yuri to pierce it himself with the needle.

“Just pull it a bit tighter,” he tells him. “Right at the end so that there’s a clean, line.”

“I’m no good at this,” Yuri says, but does his best to follow his instruction anyway.

“Nobody is the first time," he reminds him. "Like I tell Yuri, it takes practice, but it's easy to learn."

Yuri's stitches are slanted and a little loose - a clear sign of someone who is too nervous and afraid to snag. Victor probably won't have to redo it though, this panel will probably be buried underneath so many others, but he still wants to be a good teacher.

"Just follow the outline as it gets smaller," he says, and uses his pinkie to trace along the pattern drawn there. "When you get here, it's going to curve and you're going to keep stitching from one point and fan it out."

It's the same problem little Yuri had when he was out. When Yuri get to the curl, he doesn't really follow Victor's instructions and is spreading the  stitch out to far. Without even thinking about it, because it's how he taught everyone else to do this, Victor reaches out with one hand to hold Yuri's.

The intention was to guide him, and he realizes the mistake he's made when he places his hand on the other’s and Yuri pulls back fast, stabbing him in the center of his palm.

“Sorry,” he tries to laugh. “I should’ve warned you. Sorry about that. I should be more aware -”

“No,” Yuri denies. “No, it’s not your fault. I just- I don’t know, was surprised is all.”

The wind is howling outside again, and Victor’s palm is stinging… 

Maybe that’s enough stitching today.

He’s about to say something to break the sudden spike of tension when hunger makes itself known and does it for him. Victor’s stomach growls, and it growls loud. He probably should have eaten something  earlier, and if the way Yuri’s growls in agreement, he should have eaten something too.

Yuri looks more embarrassed for himself with the way he wraps his arms around his stomach and attempts to shrink in, but Victor only laughs it off. It’s not a big deal. He wants him to realize that.

“I’ll make us something to eat,” he tells him and gets up to head for the kitchen.

“I’m okay,” Yuri is quick to say, but again, Victor waves it off.

“We have a growing grocery store in the backyard, feeding you is not gonna make a dent in that, don’t worry.”

“That’s easier said than done,” Yuir mutters, but it’s low enough that Victor doesn’t even hear it.

So, in the end, they both end up in front of the designated kitchen area. Yuri was adamant to help, so Victor tasked him with washing up the vegetables they had on hand to throw together a quick salad.

“I’m not like Georgi,” he says. “I don’t really know how to do too much without, well, everything. I knew how to cook a little, but it’s not like I can run out to the market and grab what I need to make a vol-au-vent.”

“I’m not judging,” Yuri tells him. “My dad did all the cooking, and when we were in- Well, Yuko did a lot of the cooking, she still does. Her reasoning is she would rather do the work and eat well, than to relax and let us make a mess of what we have.”

“I take it Kenjiro can’t cook either.”

“He’s worse than me.  I think if we hadn’t picked him up, he’d be eating power pup straight out of the can for days.”

“No, don’t say that,” Victor whines. “Because that was me, I used to do that.”

“No. Really?”

“It was easier and more convenient,” he tries to defend, but Yuri laughs anyway.

“That’s such a killjoy thing to do,” Yuri chuckles.

Victor chops a small head of lettuce in half with one swift motion.

“Yeah,” he agrees. “It really is.”

It's either a late lunch or an early dinner, but either way, it's relatively peaceful with Yuri complementing the salad and Victor reminding him that it's just a salad.

"The dressing is good though," Yuri points out.

"To be fair I made it with the honey that you harvested," Victor counterpoints. "So, thank you for that."

Yuri looks down at his plate and stares down for a bit.

"Oh," is all he says.

When they finish up and he no longer has his own food to stare at, Yuri takes to looking around their small abode. The way he takes the room in - the same room that he’s been in a couple of times before at least - has Victor curious as to what he’s thinking.

“What’s on your mind?” he asks him.

“Oh, nothing,” Yuri answers. “It’s just… I don’t think I’ve ever been in here for this long before. Not counting the time we were taking care of Georgi, I don’t think I’ve ever really had a good look at this place.”

There’s not much to look at in his opinion. It’s all just one large room: their make-shift kitchen and table are pushed along the left side of it, there’s the table with the transmitter and their stereo, a crate full of their cassettes and a crate full of batteries. Yuri had thrown up some flyers from old gigs and Mila’s taken over some wall space to write up a daily chore and to-do list with some pieces of chalk. Georgi’s side has his cot and a shelf that he keeps small pots of rosemary and other herbs, along with a trunk filled with clothes and scavenged notebooks. Victor doesn’t think he has much to contribute; he only has the entire stock of his sewing supplies shoved as organized as he can into a chest of drawers, some small baskets, and hanging shelves. 

“It’s a mess right now,” Victor says gathering up the dishes to put in their makeshift sink for later. “But that usually happens when I do projects like this.”

“If this is a mess then I don’t know what to call what we have back home,” Yuri tells him. “But I was looking around is all… You have a lot of sewing supplies, is it bad that I gave you so much more? Because there was two whole boxes packed up and I didn’t even think about where everything was gonna go.” 

“I’m glad for it,” Victor reassures him before Yuri can work himself up too much. “Don’t worry about it. I’m really happy that you guys found all that, any little bit makes my job easier. Especially the dyes, I’m saving the purple for something special, but the other dyes that were in the box saved me. Especially the blues, I’ve been running low on my own and I haven’t been able to go out too far into the desert to find more.”

“I thought you made your dyes out of flowers though?”

“I do,” he says and joins Yuri again at the table, “But the Roses don’t grow woad in their beds.”

Yuri’s eyes narrow slightly, and Victor knows that he’s trying to think over what woad even is and it’s an adorable look on his face.

“The don’t grow woad, and we can’t grow it here,” says Victor, “because it’s one of those plants that take over everything. You know the ones.”

It’s like clarity lights up in his eyes, he knows the ones, they’re common out here, and he wouldn’t be surprised if Blanca has had him tear them out from their gardens.

“The little yellow ones?” he asks. “The ones that grow in like tumbleweed patches?”

“Those are them. They get pretty tall when you let them grow out though. I haven’t been able to go out and scavenge in my usual place. It’s closer to the wolf den, so it’s kind of out of the way, and we’ve been pretty busy lately.”

“I think,” Yuri says, slowly, like he’s afraid to make a mistake, “that they grow on the side of the cliff.”

“The cliff?”

“Well, it’s not like a cliff cliff,” Yuri explains. “Um, we… we live near the Springs, and actually, we live um… we live next the Cemetery Drive. And on the opposite of it there’s um, this kind of rock slope that slides down into the new shore line. And then the ocean. There’s a lot of wild flowers that grow in the rubble. I think that might be one of them, if you ever want to come check that out.”

Victor can only blink, and Yuri waves his hands in front of him.

“If you ever want to I mean,” he says. “You don’t have to.”

“No, that would be great actually,” Victor tells him. “If it is, that would be a lot better for me than trying to get past Battery just to get to the opposite side of 2.” 

“Considering what the border has been like lately, yeah,” Yuri agrees, and then perks up suddenly. “Wait, if the flower is yellow, how does it make blue?”

“I don’t use the flower, just the leaves,” Victor answers. “You chop them up, crush them, boil them, mix them with ash, and filter it out with clean water. It’s a medieval method, but it still works.”

Outside, the wind whistles above them and a particular strong gust hits the shutters just so to rattle them a bit. It’s still going strong.

Inside, however, Victor is being subjected to a different kind of scenario altogether. He wouldn’t compare it to a storm in itself, but the way he is being scrutinized (and he definitely knows that he is, he has seen the look Yuri is giving him before many a time growing up) tells of something that is about to be unleashed, dare say, even life changing.

Or at least embarrassing.

At least.

“What?” Victor asks him.

“Nothing,” Yuri says, but his tone suggests that it’s anything but that. “Just… how do you know all this? A lot of people are still learning how to get by without everything we used to have, but you know how to do things without any of it. I just get the feeling that you already knew how to do all this.”

“I was a fashion major,” Victor replies with a shrug.

“And fashion majors learn about the medieval ways to get dye out of plants?”

If this were a comic book, Victor imagines he would have several exclamation points over his head. All of them indicating how close he is to revealing one of those secrets from the Before. How dramatic, it’s not like it’s that bad. Although, who isn’t the tiniest embarrassed over things from their past? Even the ones that are looked back on fondly?

“Well, no,” he says, and pauses long enough for Yuri to tilt his head at him.

He doesn’t say anything though.

“I’m taking it you don’t want to explain any more than that,” Yuri says.

“I wanted to learn how to do all sorts of things in all sorts of eras. Medieval, Baroque, Victorian, Edwardian, and it was because I wanted to have a lifestyle that fit the aesthetic as much as possible. But I suppose I was always meant for fashion because everything I know ties around that. Like if you ever need to know how to keep fleas away while whale bone crinoline cage, I’m your man.”

(He wishes that was the weirdest thing he has ever said in his lifetime.)

(But it isn’t.)

(And Yuri isn’t going to know that.)

Thankfully, he seems to have gotten distracted by a certain key element to this explanation.

“Wait, what aesthetic?” Yuri asks, and he has him cornered.

Victor inhales deeply. It’s not that bad, he can do it.

“I wanted to live like… well, like the goth king I wanted to be when I grew up. And as a fledgling prince, I thought… well, I don’t know what I thought.”

Silence. Victor stares at Yuri, and Yuri stares at Victor. Again, if this were a comic, this would be the panel where they stare at each other from across the table and three huge dots are drawn above them.

“Are you telling me you were a goth kid?”

“Well, if you ask certain people, you never really stop,” Victor shrugs. “Dressing the part is kind of.. out of the question sometimes, all things considering. I probably would still if I could.”

Yuri’s eyes narrow at him, like he’s studying him, looking for a some kind of tell.

“I don’t believe you,” he ends up saying.

Okay, now Victor is just affronted. He was prepared for some ribbing, but he didn’t log in hours of learning how to walk in platform stilettos and how to prevent fishnet chafing underneath leather for this kind of doubt.

“Oh, really?”

And that’s how they end up in front of the radio, cassettes scattered around them with the soft dulcet tones of a forgotten Siouxsie Sioux singing about cities tuning into dust.

(It’s a bit too on the nose... all things considering.)

“Let me tell you something,” Victor tells him while waving around a scavenged Joy Division B-side, “growing up in the middle of a nowhere small town, being a porcelain doll dressed all in black was not really the way to make friends.”

“Are you telling me Small Town Goth was not a thing?” Yuri laughs.

“Oh no, it definitely was a thing. But I think it was only a one-person-at-a-time thing. Can’t imagine having more than one would be good for the older folk's health.” 

“Too much pearl clutching in front of the church.”

“Exactly! The end days would be approaching,” Victor laughs.

“Okay, but honestly, thinking about what ended up happening, they wouldn’t have been wrong.”

It’s a terrible thing to laugh about, but they do anyway. They survived it and have survived this far, if they laugh a little too hard, who’s to say they don’t deserve it?

“Listen the little old church ladies may not have understood me, but Robert Smith and Dave Vanian did, and that’s all that mattered.”

“I don’t know who those people are.”

“Nobody ever does,” Victor sighs and falls back dramatically.

“Are all of these yours?” Yuri asks, and pushes his hand through the crate of cassettes.

“No, they’re all mixed up in there. Mila practically owns everything with a girl power vibe to it and Yuri just kind of likes things that go fast. Georgi… I don’t really know what to think about that.”

“The girls listen to everything that has a weird cover on it,” Yuri says. “They don’t really know what they like just yet, but I get the feeling their gonna be a mix between Yuko and Kenjiro.”

“What do they listen to?”

“The only way I can really describe Ken’s small music stash is surfer rock.”

“What?”

“Yeah, it’s definitely music you would hear in old 60’s movies about life on a California beach with a young tomboy looking to impress the much older surfer that just isn’t into her.”

“And then somehow miraculously at the end, he realizes that she is truly not like any other girl out there and is therefore, the only girl for him.”

Yuri hides his laugh behind a hand. “That’s the one.”

“Yeah, that sounds about right. What about Yuko though?”

“Okay,” Yuri sighs. “I feel like this needs some backstory.”

“Oh, now I’m excited.”

“When we were in school,” Yuri tells him, “Yuko was super good at French. Like really good, perfect accent, everything. If I remember right, her teacher really wanted to send her abroad, but she didn’t want to get into linguistics, she always wanted to be in the medical field. That never stopped her from really diving into, well, I guess everything French.”

Yuri sighs again, and smiles fondly. “You ever hear about Yé-Yé?”

“I… can’t say that I have.”

“Imagine an old 1960’s commercial with elevator music, but make it French, and that’s Yé-Yé.”

Victor scoffs. “Stop.”

“No, I’m being serious, that’s what it sounds like to me. Although some of it is kind of cool, I won’t lie.”

“Oh? Is that a clue? Do you also like 60’s era music? Is that that entire household, Yuri, were you listening to the Monkees and the Beach Boys in high school?”

“No!” Yuri laughs. “No, no, I can definitely say not.”

“What were you listening to then?”

Yuri hums. “Um… well, let’s see I was 16 when the world ended, so that means…”

He trails off, and suddenly, out of nowhere, his entire face pales and he gasps. Yuri mutters something under his breath, but isn’t something that Victor isn’t able to hear because he immediately buries his face into his hands and stays there. It takes a minute or so, but Victor leans in close enough to see that Yuri is staring at him from between his fingers and it encourages him.

“What were you listening to?” Victor eggs on.

“No,” he says, firmly, hands falling away to show a very serious expression.

“Come on! What were you listening to?!”

“No!”

“I told you about my goth kid days, I have no room to laugh, I promise.”

“It’s embarrassing!”

“So is soaking a night gown in fermented cow piss because you wanted to dye something crimson the medieval way to be more ‘authentic’. We all do embarrassing things.”

“Wait, did you really?”

“That isn’t what’s being asked right now, Yuri. We’re talking about music. Your music. What were you listening to in high school?”

Yuri buries his face into his hands again and lets out a loud groan. He says something that gets muffled, and Victor pokes his side.

“What was that?”

“Anime openings!” Yuri shouts with a beet red face, looking him dead in the eye with the sheer terror of being honest with himself, Victor, and even the new Gods. “I was listening to mostly anime openings and some j-rock. There was some classical and instrumentals, and maybe a few hip hop songs from class, but I don’t remember them. ”

Victor blinks.

Then he breaks out into the hugest smile.

“Were you in anime clubs?” he asks..

“No,” groans Yuri. “Stop it.”

“Wait, does that actually mean you were?”

“No! No, I mostly kept to myself, so I wasn’t in any clubs. The only friends I had in school were Yuko and her husband, but they were two years older than me, so I spent the last two years alone.”

“Yuko was married?!” Victor asks, and feels kind of ridiculous for even being surprised.

“Yeah. Why do you think she has kids?”

“You don’t need to be married to have kids.”

“Okay, yeah, that’s true.”

He probably shouldn’t, but Victor asks anyway, “What happened to her husband?”

With the way Yuri bites down on his lip and looks away, Victor definitely shouldn’t have asked. He’s about to tell him to forget it, it doesn’t need to be said because no matter what happened, he isn’t here now, and that’s all there is to say about it. Yuri answers him before he’s able to say any of that, though.

“There were a lot of martyrs when we were being evacuated,” he says. “Takeshi was one of them.”

Well… that puts a damper on the mood, that goes without saying. Thinking quick, Victor thrusts his hand back into the pile of cassettes and pulls one out at random. He takes a look at it and scoffs out a quick laugh.

“So you wanna hear what Georgi listens to?” he asks. “I swear it’s kind of weird, but not like in a baaaad way.”

“I wasn’t really that interested,” Yuri confesses. “But hearing you say it that way really makes me wanna hear it now.”

Victor slips the cassette out from it’s case, but they don’t get a chance to listen to it.

Two things happen: A hard wind hits the shutters of the window above their dining table again, only this time it rattles it enough to knock off the small bar they use to keep it shut from its place and they burst wide open. In an instant, dust and sand come whipping into the small space and creates chaos. The chairs are blown over and even skid towards the center of the room. The flyers come off and entangle with the strips of red fabric on the floor that have now levitated into some cosmic whirlwind.

It’s Victor’s first instinct to gather as much as the fabric as possible, and Yuri fights through the cutting gale to seal themselves up once more. By the time he gets it shut the place looks like a hurricane went straight through it.

(Which, that’s almost exactly what happened. But still.”

Yuri is breathing heavily, and he asks, “Are you okay.”

Victor stands in the middle of the wreckage, the radio still playing in the background, seemingly unharmed from what just happened and he’s holding the fabric so tightly to his chest that it makes him look like he’s bleeding the red itself.

“I’m alright,” he says, and hopes he doesn’t look too windswept. “That was a bit surprising.”

The second thing that happens, and it happens right after he says this, is Georgi wakes up.

One second, he’s still comatose, and then the next, he bolts straight up in his bed, back rigid and gasping for air like he’s just hit the surface after being underwater for way too long.

“The punchline to the joke is asking,” he gasps, voice cracked and heavy. “Someone save us.”

Both Yuri and Victor are standing and staring, eyes wide and jaws dropped. Both of them are shocked still, and Georgi is the first to move. It’s a slow movement, but he turns his body to face them, not yet getting out of bed, but he is facing them, even though his eyes are transfixed downwards.

“I saw her,” he says, soft and careful. “I saw her in my sleep. I saw the Phoenix Witch and she said it wasn’t time. I wasn’t ready for the static.”

He then sits up a little straighter, and looks directly at Yuri, and deadpan says, “She says that you’ll be seeing her soon.”

“Hm, I don't think I like that,” says Yuri, finding his voice. “No, I don’t like that at all. Really wish you didn't say that.”

Ignoring the enigmatic prophecy that has just taken place, Victor approaches Georgi’s bedside and kneels down beside him.

“We thought we lost you,” he says, softly.

Georgi, with his shaggy facial hair and chapped lips, breathing deep and even breaths, blinks and tries to smile. 

“The hat fell off,” he says, and Victor laughs.

He knows that he’s not fragile, that Georgi won’t break, but it doesn’t stop Victor from being cautious with the way he wraps his arms around him in the gentlest hug. Georgi sags against him and it’s unsurprising how much his muscles must be underworked and must need to be recovered as well. It’s fine. Victor is just glad that he’s awake.

“You smell so bad,” Victor jokes, and Georgi pushes himself away.

“I won’t apologize,” he tells him. “How long was I out for?”

“Almost two weeks,” Yuri answers him and comes to kneel at his bedside as well. “A couple more days and it would’ve been.”

“Jesus Christ,” he mumbles.

“Can’t hear you out here,” Victor says, and bites his lip.

(Now’s not the time for that.)

“Georgi,” says Yuri, “I need to check your vitals, make sure you’re temperature is close to normal and make sure your beating fine inside. If that’s okay.”

Georgi doesn’t answer but he does nod his head. Yuri doesn’t really have any medical tools other than the ones Yuko left them that one day, but he seems like he can make do with just that. Victor stands up to give them their own space and leans up against the wall next to the wall. His eyes do a quick sweep of the place and he grimaces a little. It’s gonna be a hell of a time cleaning up this dust and putting everything back together. 

But all things considering, he isn’t minding it too much right now. Georgi’s awake, and Yuri is making the good kind of doctor noises, so it looks like he’ll be doing alright soon. It makes him smile a little, as Victor shuts the radio off and finally cuts the music off.

They’re okay.