Archive of Our Own ^beta

They’ve failed. All their time working with Dex has taught them to cover him, keep him safe. He’s not as strong as Zap, as fast as Jenny, or able to take hits like Tung. He’s fragile, breakable, human , and now he’s dying. He won’t let them kill the bug, still hanging from the sharp horn as he coughs up blood and soothes it.

“I’m sorry I scared ya little buddy. ‘s not your fault. Everything’s gonna be alright.”

    It won’t let them near, and every movement sends fresh streams of blood down to the ground. There’s so much and none of them can do anything. Dex is dying. Dex is dying. Then it runs off and by the time they find it there is nothing they can do. There is no more bright voice to stop Tung as he rips the bug apart piece by piece. There are no comforting touches to keep Jenny from bringing back her weapons. Those bright eyes have turned to dull glass, unable to keep Zap from dealing the killing blow.

“... would he have wanted this?”

    Watching closely as Zap eases Dex- no, Dex’s body- from the horn, Jenny can’t find it in herself to answer Tung. Their eyes are dry, still in shock. If it weren’t for the gaping wound Dex looks for all the world like he could wake up and be alright again. And as Dex had carried a wounded and hysterical teenager into his home many years ago, the young man that boy became carries the body of his mentor over the threshold of his ship. He’s going home for the last time.

    At the funeral it is only them. Dex had no family to speak of, all of his friends either dead or out of the country. The priest drones on, words of comfort lost as their Dex is lowered into the cold ground. They stay as the grave is filled, as the tombstone is carefully placed. Butterflies dance around it as they leave their flowers, the sod barely holding the illusion of untouched ground. Dex had requested to be buried in the habitat, so they honored that wish. He is here, spirit living on with his passion. That doesn’t make it any easier.

    Dex left the habitat to them. They run it as if he was still there, and sometimes they can swear they see him out of the corners of their eyes. Jenny still asks him to hand her a tool. Tung walks into his room with breakfast only to face the dust. Zap calls for him out in the field only to get no response. It hurts, but they put on their masks and pretend. Nobody questions Zap when he comes home covered in bruises and wearing a vicious grin that screams of a different pain. They pretend not to notice Tung’s daily cleanings of Dex’s room and his hourly visits to the grave. They ever so carefully ignore the not-so-legal tools and gadgets that Jenny brings home in the dead of the night. If they keep pretending then maybe they can make it bearable.

“I really miss him.”

“I know.”

    Days and months and years go by and it never really fades. They still see him, still hear him, still play pretend in hopes that it’s all one long nightmare. They put on a show for the press on each anniversary, keeping the habitat running. It will be a cold day in hell before they let his life’s work go to ruin. That’s why Jenny makes sure that everything is perfect. She has the list of heirs, people that she can trust to take care of the habitat, and several documents on how to run it properly. She compiles everything necessary in case of disaster before she tells the boys.

“We’re going to get him back.”

    Zap and Tung don’t ask her how many years she spent, how much she sacrificed, to put her masterpiece together. For that she is glad. They don’t need to know.

“I’ve tested everything I can, but this could still kill us. I understand if you don’t-”

“Let’s go.”

    The boys do the daily maintenance while she calibrates the machine for the very day they lost him. Every adjustment is double and triple-checked. She doesn’t trust her shaking hands to do things right on the first try.

“Jenny.”

    Zap, face carefully blank, places a comforting hand on her shoulder. Tung’s hand reaches up to curl around hers, his eyes blazing with the fire of determination. She has given them hope again, and for all of their sakes she prays that everything is correct. As one, the pull the lever. As one they entwine hands and hold on with everything they are worth as a small light grows bigger and brighter until they are swept away. It hurts more than any wound they have received. Everything burns and freezes, they melt and twist and something pulls and tugs them out of their broken bodies. The light dims until there is blackness and then they know no more.    

    When they awake they are on the ship.

“Struth! Would ya look at that! Isn’t she a beaut?”

    That voice. Bright with such a thick accent, something they haven’t heard in years. Dex. He’s standing at the front, looking down at that thrice-damned bug that took him away from them. Tung is the first one to start bawling. A look of alarm passes over his face as he turns to see what has happened. Zap takes the chance to turn the ship around, tears threatening to fall at the sheer joy he feels.

“Tung? Jenny? Zap? What’s wrong?”

    They don’t like distressing him, but they can’t help it. Zap places the ship on autopilot and-almost as one being- they hold Dex close to them.

“Woah! What’s gotten into you guys? Not that I mind, but is there something wrong?”

    Every word, every breath, is a soothing balm to weary souls. They have him back.  Dex is alright, and there is nothing in the universe that could take him away from them again.

(And deep within his heart another version watches and knows, not completely content but enough to finally rest. If a second chance is what they needed to move on, then who was he to deny them that?)