Chapter Text
Some people think that exos do not dream. That their thoughts are as mechanized as their bodies, and sleep is as simple as shutting off. Saint-14 wishes that was the case sometimes.
The first dream is short, barely memorable when he wakes up. The corridors of time are vast and empty as he wanders through the endless halls. Something feels haunting about the silence. All his thoughts are inexplicably focused on you. Where were you? Was he looking for you? Were you alright? The dream ends abruptly as he steps through a portal. It sticks with him in a way he can't explain, but when he looks down at you curled up next to him, he makes a point to pull you closer that night.
The second dream starts the same, with a long trek through the neat, identical corridors, but this time he's able to push through the other side of that last door. There's no portals in this room besides the one behind him, and the interior lacks the sharp angular designs of the rest of the corridors. He hovers at the entrance for a long moment, studying something in the center of the room. He only manages to take two steps forward before he wakes up again, strangely panicked. His hands are searching for you before he's fully aware of it, and he mumbles a small apology when his touch jolts you awake.
"Are you alright?" Your voice is heavy with sleep as you rest your hands over his.
He tries to focus on how close you are; how solid and comforting it is just to have you there.
"Fine. I'm fine, love." He strokes your side absentmindedly. "I'm sorry for waking you."
"It's alright," You yawn and roll over to pull his head against your chest, running your fingers down the back of his neck.
The dream still lingers, but he's able to fall back asleep in the comfort of you arms.
The third dream is devastating. Horrific and staggering in a way he hasn't experienced since he learned of his father's death. There's no corridors this time, just the final room he'd been brought to before. Now he can see what sits in the middle. A tomb, sanded down by wind and crumbling at its corners. The guardian sigil sits cracked and ruined in front of the grave. He's afraid to move closer, but his feet carry him against his own will across the contrastingly immaculate room to the single, daunting coffin.
It's even worse than he expected. Dread strikes his chest as he reads over the message engraved on the tomb. He clutches one corner of the coffin and runs a shaky hand over the lettering, cracked and shambling in some places.
It's your name. Chiseled into the concrete and left to wither alone in the endless corridors.
It feels like the tomb drops ten degrees under his palm.
"No. No, no--" He won't accept it. His chest feels so tight it could burst, but he can't look away.
A booming voice fills his head and he falls to his knees with a groan as it echoes painfully through his skull. It's his own voice, laced with grief.
Thank you all for coming...
It's not true.
They had a hundred titles I cannot recall...
None of this is true.
Ages ago, they saved my life...
He shudders as he presses his palms to the side of the tomb, ignoring the cold as he clenches his eyes shut.
I am glad that they did.
His whole body feels heavy, he can barely keep his head up, and he sinks further onto his knees.
Because, Traveler help us...
Saint tenses his shoulders and lets out another groan. It's a pain less physical than before, and leaves something much more hollow in him.
They are gone.
He snaps his head up as the grave shakes under his hands, glitching between realities as the corridors crumble around him. He's too afraid to move; too shocked and terrified to do anything but let his own words roll over in his head over and over. The glass floor of the Vault fractures underneath him, and Saint plunges into the endless white light below.
When his eyes flash on, he yells, scanning over his surrounding in a panic. He can see the roof of your bedroom, and he can feel your sheets wrapped around him. The familiarity isn't enough to calm him down though. His hand flails around the bed as he tries to find you, and the fear grows sharper when you're nowhere in sight.
"No, no, no, no," he whispers to himself as he trips out of the bed and scrambles down the hallway in search of you. He checks every room, slamming his fist against the doorway between your kitchen and living room when he can't find you. It's ridiculous; he has no lungs and yet he feels like he can barely breathe.
He can barely hear the front door unlocking over his ragged breath, but he rushes forward and swings the door open himself. When he sees you he's not sure whether to laugh, cry, or kiss you.
He clutches at you with a gasp. "Guardian!"
"Saint?" You squak in surprise and drop a plastic bag you'd been carrying. When you can feel his hands tremble against you, you hold his arms steady.
"Saint, what's wrong?" You push him away to cradle his face in your hands in an attempt to calm him down. His jaw shakes in your grip.
"I-" He pauses. How is he supposed to tell you? He's not even ready to accept it himself. How would you react to being told he's envisioned your decrepit grave and heard his own eulogy in honor of you? It's hard to explain, not just because of the subject, but because Saint feels like he'd choke trying to get the words out past all his fear.
"Promise you will not leave."
You tilt your head like you're not quite sure what he means. "What?"
"Promise me you'll come home, guardian." Saint cups his hands over yours and takes a deep breath. "Losing you is too much to bear, please. Promise you'll come back to me. Promise you will come home." He lets out another shaky breath and ducks into your arms.
"It's okay, Saint. I'm here..." Your hands rub up and down his back, kissing the side of his head as he hides his face in your shoulder.
You won't say it out loud, but the promise feels too risky to make. Coming home to Saint-14 filled you with so much excitement and love everytime you'd hop off your ship and into his arms, but with the life you led, it was never a guarantee you'd come home at all. You couldn't lie to him like that, you couldn't risk breaking his heart if your fireteam ever had to pass along your fate to him, but you're here now.
Above all else, you came home today. You've come home every time you left Saint with a parting kiss and a smile. And, Traveler willing, you'd fight the good fight for as long as you needed, until you could finally hang up your guns like Saint has always dreamed about and spend the rest of your long life beside him.
It was rare to see Saint this vulnerable. He was so strong for others, so protective and caring of everyone and everything in his life. It made your heart ache seeing him like this.
"I'm home, Saint." You whisper against his shoulder. "Let's go sit down, okay?"
Saint hums in response, letting you take his hand in yours as you guide him to the couch in your living room.
"I'll be right back," you say, kissing his hand quickly before heading into your room to pick up a blanket for him.
You toss the blanket over his shoulder and scoot in next to him, wrapping it around you both as he leans against your chest.
"Do you wanna hear about the Dreaming City?" You ask, tracing the plates detailing his face.
"You've told me all there is to find in the Dreaming City. I could traverse that entire city myself from your stories alone."
"Well you haven't heard about this," you chirp back. He can hear the smile in your voice. It makes him smile too.
"Then let me hear."
"There's caves all over the city. Most of them are dead ends, but I found one filled with the brightest amethyst I've ever seen the other day, all the way to the roof of the cave. It was beautiful." You caress his cheek. "And it made me think of you. The cool air, the sun shining through the mouth of the cave, all that violet light...and you know what?"
Saint opens his eyes to admire your smile. "Hm?"
"None of it compared to you." You rub his cheek, and Saint can see all the adoration you hold for him in your eyes. "I'll fight as hard as I can, for as long as I can, to come home to the City. Our city. I promise I'll never go easily. Not when I have you to come home to. Not until we get to put down our guns and spend all our days feeding the pigeons and singing in the City. I'm here. We're here. And it'll take an army to keep me from coming home to you."
Some people think that exos do not cry. That they lack the biology to do so. But when Saint-14's shoulders shake, and he hides his face in his hands, you know that's not true.
"Don't cry." Your voice cracks into a whisper at the second word alone. "You're gonna make me cry."
"They are not tears of sadness! Not entirely. I am..." He takes a deep breath to relax, but lets out a sob anyways. "Relieved. To have you here. To be with you."
Regardless of his explanation, you can't help crying along with him, making him laugh briefly before you both indulge in finally letting all the stress and fear of your lives out together. Both your hands glide over each other as you press kisses from his forehead and all the way down to the base of his neck, shifting so you can comfortably throw your leg across his lap and pull him closer.
"I love you," you say it so quietly, and Saint can't remember hearing anything more angelic than your voice.
"I love you." He echoes the words back to you, and when his hands tighten around you, you believe it with your whole heart.
The two of you enjoy the silence for a long time.
"...Do you want ramen?" You ask.
"Is that where you went?"
"Yeah, sorry." You pout at him. "It was gonna be a surprise. I was hungry."
Saint sighs. "Yes, please."