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The moment he steps foot in the Nomad, Snake announces he’s starving.
Thus, he finds himself peering over the familiar stovetop with Sunny as she cracks one, two eggs and dumps their contents into the skillet. The liquid whites sizzle, spraying oil flecks which prompt Sunny to scrunch her nose up. Throwing Snake a smile he returns gently, she sets an alarm on her GA-KO clock.
“N-Naomi taught me the right cooking time.” She secures the pan’s cover onto it like a puzzle piece. “Now good things will always happen!”
Snake nods, squinting at the crackling food. Sunny giggles, neck craned so her gaze reaches his. Even atop her stool, she hardly meets the height of his shoulder. She regards him through wide, searching eyes, the brows above them furrowed a hint in that too thoughtful stare for someone her age. Snake is certain she’s noticed something, can read him and Otacon well, even if the specifics elude her.
Sunny breaks the pause by piping up, “I missed you, Snake. I-it’s… not the same without you.”
Snake fights a frown. “Missed you, kiddo.”
After studying him a second, she beams. “S-sorry there’s only two eggs. Solid was lazy today… unlike you!”
“It’s fine.” Snake motions toward the stairs. “Uncle Hal’s waiting for me. You be careful handling that stove, okay?”
Once she’s assured him, Snake ambles down, each stride sending complaining aches through his legs. He spots Otacon sitting at his computer but turned away from the screen, clasped hands hovering over his lap. He looks up when Snake enters the room, worry lines somehow appearing more prominent than usual.
Snake drags a chair across the room to settle by Otacon closely. They’re too close yet not enough, knees so near they’d brush if either shifted a mere inch.
Otacon’s softening expression can’t hide the unease underneath, not when Snake knows him so intimately. “We’re invited to Meryl and Johnny’s wedding!” It’s a muted exclamation, accompanied by a silent clap. “Isn’t that wonderful? I’m glad this whole mess resulted in one good thing.”
Snake hesitates. “Otacon…” His tone implies everything they’re both aware of already. “I hope everybody enjoys themselves. Don’t explain my absence.”
Otacon would rather continue denying the truth, but there’s no avoiding it now that Snake has no other duties.
His final task is suicide.
Otacon remembers Wolf, Emma, Naomi, questions whether he should’ve expected this ultimate punishment. There’s no going back to how things were, not after Snake changed his life nine years ago.
“Why is this happening to you?” Otacon demands. Back hunched, hot face buried in his palms, sobs puppeteer his trembling body. “You of all people don’t deserve it. I… I can’t stand…”
Snake recognizes nothing could comfort Otacon, yet wishes with a foreign intensity that he could ease his pain. He brushes tentative fingers along his thigh, conveying his presence. I’m still here for now.
Otacon observes the touch. The distance between them lessens.
“Hal…” He’s quiet, as though imparting a secret, evading prying ears. They’re enemies to everyone outside their own small world, or maybe nobody besides them exists at all. “You’ll be okay. You have Sunny. I’m confident you’ll raise her right.”
Hal inhales shakily. “No. No, she needs you. I need you.”
Snake wonders what he provides Hal and Sunny, how an object feigning humanity benefits them. Protection, he supposes, but the Patriots are gone now. His loved ones are safe. Regardless, he sees no point reiterating the inevitable or arguing further. “I’m sorry, Hal.”
Barely a whisper, Hal manages, “We’re a family. I’d never really experienced that. Despite the circumstances… I was so happy. I wanted to be together forever. If nothing else, you deserved a peaceful death.” He laughs bitterly. “I’m afraid of losing you. You’re probably afraid of dying.”
Snake stands and closes the space separating them, encircling his arms around Hal loosely. Remaining seated, exhausted, Hal falls against his chest easily. The smoke smell Hal normally complains about becomes a comforter, communicating Snake’s proximity, aliveness. Hal’s hyperventilating gradually subsides.
Deep adoration Snake had long stifled surfaces, overwhelming his mental forefront, as he silently relishes holding Hal. He’s quelled such sentiment ever since they began Philanthropy, but with the end soon, why bother repressing it anymore? He absorbs the sight of Hal’s curls, how they frame his handsome complexion, the stubble he’s developed that Snake rather appreciates. His searching concludes at Hal’s mouth, inciting desires he assumed were under lock and key.
“Hal?”
Hal hums softly.
“Could I request one last thing from you?”
“Yes. Anything.”
“May I kiss you?”
Hal pulls away, examining him. Snake fears discomforting his friend, but while Hal’s slightly tilted head and the pensive slits behind his glasses suggest otherwise, he can’t quite discern his honest thoughts. Snake understands Hal doesn’t return his affections, nor is he asking him to. He simply yearns for intimacy with him, or at least the illusion of it, just once before his departure.
Hal’s tongue darts out almost unnoticeably; somebody more hopeful than Snake might infer reciprocacy, whereas he identifies sheer curiosity. Hal places a cool palm on the back of Snake’s neck and leans in, until their lips are scarcely an iota apart. Warm breath fans Snake’s skin. Hal is waiting, inviting, he realizes.
So Snake kisses him.
Their dry lips press in a chaste, unmoving meeting. Snake’s mustache scratches Hal as the latter’s stubble grazes him, refusing defeat. Though motionless, there’s something sweet about the gesture. Perhaps they’re attempting to suspend it, but eventually they part, albeit by a hair’s breadth.
“Goodbye Hal.”
“Goodbye… David…”
After Shadow Moses, Hal returned to London. Equally aimless now, he lands the Nomad somewhere flat and unoccupied in the English countryside. It’s a beautiful, perfect location to acquaint Sunny with the wonders freedom holds in store. She’s roaming about as he feeds the chickens, who bob their heads at the promise of food.
The Nomad wasn’t a particularly loud home, but somehow the silence now feels oppressive rather than peaceful. David’s absence has metamorphosed into the ghost inhabiting his mind, a welcome haunting if it could cure his loneliness, if only Hal could catch a glimpse of his beloved.
Sunny absorbs her surroundings, a tiny fleck dotting an endless plain, a wider space than she imagined possible. The flowers she picked for Uncle Hal and Snake dangle from her grasp, a gentle breeze threading through their petals and her silver hair. She’s convinced Snake will return soon.
She mumbles to the wind, “I hope he likes them…”
A clamor breaks out. Thunderous noise erupts from above, yet the skies are clear blue, eliminating the chance that storms brew. The Nomad generates similar noises during flight, but this is choppier, staccato. Sunny covers her ears, grimacing, knees buckled. In the distance, whirring blades cast shadows over the ground. The helicopter lands, wings slowing to a halt, and a man exits the aircraft.
“Snake! I knew you’d come back!”
She bounds forward, the most enthusiastic he’s witnessed her, radiating energy he’s amazed the potential for lay dormant. Her first order of business is presenting him with approximately half the flowers she gathered, the rest being Uncle Hal’s allotment. Snake nods his thanks, rubbing the stems between his fingers. He offers his free hand, which Sunny accepts, her grasp so tiny it wraps around his thumb.
“Uncle Hal said you wouldn’t.” She sways on her heels like a rocking horse. “But I knew you wouldn’t leave us.”
Snake grunts in agreement, a signature response. Sunny guides him along the clearing, stumbling as her attention follows him undivided. Soon the Nomad looms large, no longer a vague, shadowy shape cresting the horizon. He contemplates if Sunny views this old machine as a reflection of her Snake, a military behemoth worn down by war and age, yet comforting nonetheless.
“Wait here. I’ll fetch Uncle Hal!”
Hal pets Solid while she pecks at the floor and coos. For obvious reasons, she’s his favorite hen. The chickens serve as decent companions, although they display less distinctive personality than animals like David’s dogs. Sunny adores them, and while she could use a hand improving her cooking, he welcomes any meal besides rations.
“Uncle Hal, Snake is here!”
Hal rises from his kneel, scowling. “Sunny, I already told you…”
She’s at his side immediately, tugging his arm. “He’s here! Come on!” He staggers after her, permitted little other choice, reluctant and confused.
Sunlight floods his vision, briefly blinding, until the world clears and unveils an expectant David. It’s really him. His sunken visage exposes weariness that Hal shares, because David’s burden will always, always be his own. Underneath that exhaustion, however, Hal discerns relief and tenderness. He’s missed them.
Hal approaches. He flails, tentative, emitting a soft gasp. He scrutinizes the soil, his shuffling feet, unwilling to confront the intensity he’s positive David directs toward him. Unaware why he’s returned, Hal still fears what might transpire. “I can’t believe it.” He’s trembling. “It’s actually you. I… I don’t understand.”
“Drebin injected me with a new FOXDIE, inadvertently halting the previous one’s mutation. The present version would eventually become dangerous too, but…” He shrugs. “I’m dying in a year or so. It will die alongside me.”
Hal blinks. Several heartbeats pass. Finally, he drags himself forth, extending a palm to caress David’s face. Now that Hal’s lifted his downcast eyes, David can see the tear trailing down his cheek, accompanied by a smile. David would endure the suffering that’s defined his existence endless times over again to preserve that happiness. Bathed under a golden glow, Hal almost doubts he’s living. Surely he’s forgotten they’ve joined in the next life, that he died of a broken heart.
Stroking his hair, urging him onward, Hal kisses David on the mouth. Their bodies flush, Hal sighs against his tongue, defying his expected response at the cigarette taste. It’s exactly how David should be—searing, thrilling, and yes, like dragging a Lucky Strike—and Hal wouldn’t want it any other way. This fleeting moment, their desperate embrace, their limited days with one another all could never suffice. Not even a entire lifetime could.
Hal rests his forehead on David’s shoulder. David continues cradling him, rubbing the small of his back. Had David allowed himself the luxury of dreaming Hal returned his feelings, his brain couldn’t have conjured anything more wonderful than this. He can scarcely believe it, but how perfectly they fit together, the sharp detail he perceives everything about his Hal in, confirms the reality.
“Hal… I love you.”
“I love you, David.”
The sun rises again.