Work Text:
Desslok gripped Wildstar's hand tightly in his even as the sweet Nova brushed white hair out of her beloved's eyes.
He had seen this coming from the moment he had met Wildstar at Mothertown when the Yamato had been resurrected. He had known that he would outlive the Yamato's captain by centuries, but that made it no easier to bear.
Wildstar's every breath was a struggle, and hair that had been brown, and later gray, was now a downy white, almost invisible against his pillow.
The others had already said their goodbyes and left; Sandor had already died, as had all of the older members of the Star Force, but those few who had crewed the Andromeda II, including Nova herself, were still young in comparison. He should have left too, to give the two a little privacy in their final moments, but Wildstar had latched onto his hand when he had entered the room and he could not bring himself to let go.
And despite all of that, a single thought kept echoing in his mind.
"I would have killed you," he whispered, barely a breath, but Wildstar's fierce brown eyes still flicked to him instantly.
"Well, that's morbid," he remarked, drawing a startled laugh from Nova, "and way to break the mood, but you reminded me of something I wanted to say." He took Desslok's hands tightly in his, once-strong fingers shaking uncontrollably until Desslok forced them to still, and his eyes burned into him.
"No homicidal rampages."
"No homicidal rampages," he echoed softly.
"Well, now we got that straightened out," Wildstar said, relaxing into his pillows once more, and he said something else, but all Desslok could see was the ravaged surface of Earth after the bombings, imagined screams echoing in his ears.
"I'm sorry," he breathed faintly. "I'm so sorry."
A hand touched his cheek, and he blinked, coming back to awareness to see Wildstar's gentle features before him. "And I forgive you."
He closed his eyes, and after only the briefest passage of time Wildstar's hand went limp in his, and a whisper of breath left Wildstar's body in a gentle exhalation. Desslok pressed his limp hand to a place just above his heart, bowing his head and murmuring the rites of the dead too quietly for even himself to hear before he gently placed Wildstar's hand on the bed at his side. He stood, placing a comforting hand on Nova's shoulder as she kissed Wildstar's forehead lovingly, before he turned and left the room.
All the others immediately stood as the door closed behind him. "It's done, then?" Homer asked, his voice wavering.
Desslok nodded and suddenly slammed his fist against the wall, snarling in Gamilon what was half a furious imprecation to any gods that might be listening and half heartbroken apologies that dissolved into frustrated sobs.
A hand he knew belonged to Talan moved to cradle him against him, and they had both known this would happen, both known that Wildstar and all the others would die while they were still so, so young, but the knowledge never made any of it easier.
Farewell, my once-enemy and dear friend. I pray we will meet again in time, somewhere within the sea of stars.