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Four days. It had been four days since Crowe got sent on that routine escort mission, and she’d been radio silent ever since. That wasn’t unusual. They’d been soldiers for too long for Nyx to expect Crowe to take the time to call him while working. However, she always radioed back to base if she was delayed.
She was supposed to be back two days ago. So where the fuck was she?
Nyx took solace in the fact that Crowe could more than easily take care of herself. She was a fucking battle mage, and her weapons weren’t just for show. But he couldn’t stop himself from worrying as time crept further away from her return ETA with not a word. Captain Drautos was tired of him asking, so Nyx contented himself with staying near the Kingsglaive HQ so that he’d be one of the first to see her when she got back. Wasn’t like he had much else to do these days. In an odd contrast to all the war prep they’d been frantically engaged in for months, these few days had been quiet.
Ignis and Gladio had done what they could to keep him company, but they had jobs of their own and Nyx tried not to be too demanding on their time. He mostly hung with Libertus, who was outwardly more worried about Crowe than Nyx himself.
Outwardly…because Nyx was keeping his feelings inside, churning in his gut like a cyclone of nerves.
This morning, Nyx was practicing warp-strikes with Lib; the poor fuck still vomited each time he warped. Some folks just weren’t meant to channel that type of magic; some people took to it from the first attempt. For most, it was just a matter of practice and perseverance, but it was hard for many to force themselves when they repeatedly got sick.
“I think we should call it a day,” Nyx suggested wryly.
“Yeah,” Libertus gasped, folding forward to rest his hands on his thighs, catching his breath. “Sounds good.”
Nyx was too distracted to stay and settle Lib with some water like he normally would. He made his way indoors, hoping to catch a rumor or report that might indicate when Crowe would return. He saw Drautos walking down the corridor and fell into step with the Captain, nodding at him in greeting.
Drautos opened his mouth to say something - probably chastise Nyx for nagging him so much about a routine mission - but then his phone rang. “Yes? Report.” He turned to look at Nyx and hung up his phone.
Tension tightened Nyx’s muscles and strangled the breath in his throat. “What is it?” he demanded.
“Crowe. She…” Drautos trailed off, his eyes carefully blank. “She got hurt.”
Nyx didn’t stand around to hear more. He turned and sprinted down the halls towards the infirmary. As he drew nearer, he heard Libertus shouting in outrage for the doctors to let him in.
“Hey, take it easy, big guy.” Nyx stopped and lay a hand on Lib’s arm, pushing down his own concerns and trying to calm his friend.
“But these bastards rushed Crowe in there the minute she got back,” Libertus said, pitch ratcheting higher. “And now they won’t let me in to see her!”
Nyx’s lips compressed in a tight line. They must have smuggled her in one of the smaller entrances for him to miss it where he’d been sparring in the courtyard.
Libertus broke Nyx’s hold and pushed past the doctor and into the exam room then stopped dead on his feet. He dropped his crutches and began to stagger towards the examination table.
Frozen in the doorway, Nyx watched with fascinated horror as Libertus touched Crowe’s face, those lovely fine-boned features frozen in the shock of her last moment. When Libertus crumpled and began to cry, Nyx forced himself to walk closer.
He didn’t want to see.
He needed to see.
Nyx meant to go to Libertus, to console him, but his feet carried him past his friend and around to the other side of the gurney. He stared down into Crowe’s wide, unseeing eyes, noted the black smears of… something… that trailed from them like obsidian tears. Nyx filed all this away rapidly, pulling from battlefield triage experience.
Crowe’s dead.
But then he had to walk away, or he would lose control and break down. And Nyx knew if he let himself fall apart now, he might not be able to put himself together again.
He silently helped Libertus to his feet, and one of the doctors gave Lib his crutches. They went to sit on the stone wall lining the courtyard. The other Glaives gave them space, which Nyx was grateful for. He really wasn’t in the mood for any sort of human interaction right now.
Drautos broke the silence, walking over and pressing a box into Nyx’s hands. “Crowe’s personal effects,” he said gruffly. “Do with them as you see fit.”
Nyx accepted the box mutely. So this was it? One small box of trinkets was all he had left of his beloved.
Crowe’s dead.
“So what kinda mission did you really send her on?” Libertus asked numbly. “No Glaive winds up dead on a standard escort.”
“I’ll see the armistice does not interfere with a full investigation,” Drautos deflected. “She was a good soldier. Her death will not go unanswered.”
As the Captain walked off, Libertus began to talk again. Nyx looked at him, but couldn’t make out the words. His head was full of loud static, and his eyes were tight with the effort to hold back his tears, so his attempt to read Lib’s lips also failed.
Crowe’s dead.
Nyx thought back to that last night before she left, to the hijinx at the bar with their friends, to the private time they enjoyed back at his place. Most of all, he remembered how he’d stayed up the entire night watching her sleep - a custom of his the night before a mission that separated them. He’d never let Crowe know ‘cause she’d have mocked him mercilessly for the sentiment, though he figured she’d be pleased by it. He’d held her while she slept, watched the way an errant lock of hair fluttered with each of her exhalations. One arm around her waist to keep her close, the other coiled under her shoulders, gathering her up. He’d managed to stretch his hand far enough to reach her chest, and he took solace in the steady cadence of her heartbeat as she slumbered.
Managing to push out of his memories and clear the static, he tuned in and realized Libertus was talking about his own past experiences with Crowe. A flare of anger was quickly suppressed; Nyx wasn’t so selfish as to think he was the only one affected by Crowe’s death, but it would be nice if Lib could take one moment to think about how Nyx was feeling in that moment.
Crowe’s dead.
“She deserved better,” Libertus said in a tear-blurred voice. “And I’d’ve done anything to give it to her.” He tore the insignia off his coat and hurled it onto the stones of the courtyard before pushing to his feet with pain-filled grunts.
Nyx watched Libertus walk away, clutching tightly to the box that contained what was left of Crowe’s life.
He sat there for hours, sat until the sun had set and the courtyard was empty. Nyx could hear the muted din of voices talking inside the HQ, and it carried a more somber tone than usual, which was to be expected. None came out to interrupt his vigil, and so he finally allowed his tears to fall.
Rather than wracking sobs that would shake his entire body with the force of his sorrow, his tears came out slowly, trickles down his scarred cheeks that landed to dampen his uniform pants. Nyx stayed there, staring blankly at the moon until he realized he wasn’t crying anymore.
Out of habit, Nyx pulled out his phone. He scrolled through the list of missed calls and ignored the voice mail icon. He had only one text, though, which seemed more manageable to deal with. Opening it, he saw it was a simple check in from Ignis. Nyx typed out a quick reply and shoved his phone back in his pocket. People could deal without him returning their calls tomorrow.
Crowe’s dead.