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Chapter Text

“Kurapika! Kurapika, please, a moment of your time-”

Kurapika spun, blue and gold vest swinging, swiping a hand past the young scholar. “Gon, not now, Leorio has just made a horrible mess of my library-”

That same hand swung up to point an accusatory finger at the pre-med. Leorio winced at the reminder. “I didn't expect them all to topple like that-”

Gon vaguely recalled seeing books scattered about, but he shook his head, again pleading, “I need you to look-”

Retz leaned in over his shoulder, face still red from her quick pace to the library. “Master Curator, please, we really may have-”

“Gah!” Kurapika threw their hands into the air, their voice echoing within the tall, arched ceilings. “What, what, just- out with it. My headache is already- is that a map.” They’re tone turned quiet, cool, much like when they recited glyphs on ancient scrolls or carvings.

“Yes! It’s a map, and from what I can tell, it may be a map to-”

“Don’t-” Kurapika hissed, holding a hand out for the thick parchment, “finish that statement, we don’t need anyone getting hot headed over the possibility that this map may lead to…” They’re eyes scanned the edges of the paper for the tell-tale directions. “Huh.”

They’re voice remained cool, but a crease pinched between their dark brows. “Perhaps….” They brought the map closer to the candle on their desk, the light illuminating the faded black ink and glyphs along the edges. As they studied it, Leorio leaned over their shoulder, their cheeks almost touching as they exchanged a glance.

“Kurapika, if this really is an accurate map, we could- this would- what couldn’t we do? With the finders fee alone , Leorio could finish medical school, you could actually afford the staffing for the library, Retz and I, we’d finally be able to prove- NO!”

The map had caught fire in one corner, the dry papyrus an excellent fuel. Kurapika yelped, throwing the paper and Leorio pulling them back by the shoulder. Retz proceeded to stomp at the fire with her boot while Gon dove, patting out the low embers and scrutinizing the damage.

“Gon, my apologies, it just-”

“Its- it's just one corner, we, Retz and I can still get most of the way there, and, and there has to be…”

“You can't just wander into the desert with no destination!” Leorio scowled at the two young scholars. “That’s- you’d die, is it really worth your life, some city of gold-”

“It's not about the gold!” Gon bellowed, smoothing the edges of the map, distantly hoping it might magically grow back.

Retz scoffed, throwing one perfect curl over her shoulder. “Well I’m in it for the gold, but the finders fee itself will be more than enough to set me up with a good crew that will actually take me seriously.” When Gon didn't look up from the parchment, she set a firm hand on his shoulder. He looked up, meeting her eye’s squarely. In her heeled boots, she was the same height as his 5’ 10” self. “There may be another option.”

~

Approaching the prison, Gon glanced at the other cells. Made up of sturdy bamboo and sun baked clay, it reached several stories into the sky, guards pacing about the building. 

“Escapes aren’t often. Most of the prisoners know there’s nothing for them. Either their families don’t want them back, or they recognize that they’ll likely die in the desert before reaching another city.” 

The warden, a stocky blonde woman, was leading them to the temporary holding cell in the western part of the building. The inner courtyard gave view ability to each cell, or lead to an enclosure made up purely of bamboo.

“My apologies, warden,” Retz leaned closer to the woman, her words laced with honey, “but I cannot tell if you mentioned, why is he in prison? He wasn’t just a few days ago.”

“Don’t know, don’t care. He was dropped off here with the charge of destruction of personal property, but considering who that came from, I'll take it with a grain of salt. But I must say, since he’s been here, my prison has never been more lively.” The warden barked an order, and three men struggled out of the doorway beyond the bamboo. 

Two men in guard uniforms struggled with a third, a pale man with pale hair. ‘Lanky’ was the first word to cross Gon's mind, but the closer the pale man was dragged to him, the more muscles he noticed beneath the thin sleeveless shirt.

Pale blue eyes flashed to Gon’s, and the man seemed to relax immediately.

“Fuck, Krueger, you didn’t tell me my visitors would be so gorgeous. Or that they were strangers.”

“Keep your opinions to yourself, inmate. The gentleman and lady paid good money to speak with you. Besides, your next appointment is far less enjoyable.” The warden’s grin turned thin and cruel. “You really thought you could destroy that man's property and you wouldn’t see your demise? Your family name isn’t so well known this far across the ocean.”

The inmate returned the thin smile, sharp as a dagger. “That was the point.”

“Were you… expecting someone else?” Gon questioned carefully, exchanging an uncertain glance at Retz. She seemed unfazed by the reaction, as relaxed as ever.

“Just a no good busy body. He usually tries to get me out of my... skirmishes. Matter of fact, with how late he is I’d almost think he’d forgotten about me.” The inmate sniffed, a mock of misery coloring his tone.

Retz stepped forward. “Listen, we’re not here to flirt, as much as you two seem to be enjoying it-“

“Hey!”

“Sweetie, your grinning like a loon, accept the pretty man’s compliment and let’s move on with our objective.”

Gon cleared his throat, then glanced at the warden. “We’d like to speak with him privately, if possible.”

“I’ll step away for a few extra coins, but my guards aren’t leaving that cell.” Retz deftly passed a heavy roll of jeni, the warden pocketing it in one smooth motion. She gave the two guards a nod, and they then dropped the inmate to the ground and stepped back, framing the door into the cells.

The pale man got to his feet, rolling his shoulders. Gon watched the thin shirt ripple with the motion, and the muscles. His hair was a tangled mess, and might be a light blonde under the dirt.  He was half a head taller than Gon with no boots, feet caked in clay and blood.

Retz scoffed at him, muttering something about ‘out of the books and into a criminal’s-’ before clearing her throat. “So, I don't suppose you remember, from a few days ago-”

“Oh I remember. You had most of the table beat and crying three hands into the game.”

Retz grinned. “Good, so this should be a short conversation.” She leaned against the bars, dark blue eyes glittering in the same flirtatious stare that had most of their classmates begging to assist on papers or-

The man swung, delivering a clean blow to Retz’s lower jaw. She crumpled to the ground. The guards surged forward but Gon waved them off.

The man raised a near invisible brow. “Not concerned about your girl? If you’re not the least gentlemanly-”

“She’s not- She starts more fights than she finishes, she’ll wake more mad than anything. Now then, enough conversational bullshit, if you please.” Gon stepped forward, grabbing the man’s collar, dragging him down and pulling him into the bars. He leaned close, smelling dirt, smoke, and a heady cologne. “You lost your last hand to her-”

“I’m pretty sure she cheated-”

“Whatever, you bet a map, you lost, we need that map, or whatever you can remember-”

“It’s been like, four days, you telling me you lost it-”

“Burned. So if you could-”

“You burned  the map to-”

“ Keep your voice down,” Gon hissed, their foreheads now touching as he spoke in low tones. “Yes, we burned it, and now we need another, if your could please-”

“Hey! Our deal was so you could talk! Not fool around!” The warden’s voice boomed, nearing them.

Gon’s eyes flickered to look over his shoulder, then back to the inmate. “Shit, please, I need you to tell me-”

“Tell you want, sweetie, you get me out of here-” The man reached cool fingers under Gon’s chin, tipping his head up, then pecking his lips in a quick kiss, “I’ll take you right to the damn place. Now get me the hell out of-” A guard, spurred by the warden’s approach, slapped the back of the man’s head while the other grabbed his collar and pulled him away from bars.

“I hope you got whatever you needed, ‘cause the show's about to start,” the warden chirped.

Retz was rousing from her nap on the dirt, blindly reaching for Gon. “Show?” she murmured.

“That man must have really done a number, cause there’s a man paying a lot of money to see him dead sooner than not.” She paused. “You didn't hear me say that.”

“Dead?” Gon squeaked. His lips and chin still tingled from the contact just moments ago.

“He’s been sentenced to death by firing squad.”

~

“I’ll pay you ten thousand jeni.”

“Nah, the practice is good for my squad, and with the man paying as much as he did….” The warden cast a sideways glance, her dark eyes. “You know… I might have overheard you two…”

Gon gulped, mind racing.

“Something about a treasure map?”

“We never said anything-”

“I heard ‘map' and whispers, if that doesn't scream ‘treasure’ then I'm not sure what does. The rumors floating behind that man,” she gestured ten yards ahead of them to the inmate, hooded and standing with his back to a wall, “those rumors are enough to make anyone wonder about where he came from. Not to mention, any kid of Ging’s-”

“This has nothing to do with Ging,” Gon snapped. Retz placed a hand on his shoulder, either to comfort or to warn him, he wasn’t sure. A bruise was blooming under her chin and up her cheek.

“Well, since you’re far more clever than my friend here thought, what if we offer you a deal? If he,” Retz gestured to the courtyard, a line of armed men marching to line up in front of the hooded man, “really does know where he’s going, then we’ll have enough treasure for the four of us. You can get a cut-”

“Retz-”

“Quiet, this is the best option. You can get a cut of the treasure so long as we make it there safe and sound. We don’t?” She shrugged her shoulders. “Then we all die in the desert, or I kill the man myself.”

Distantly, Gon could hear one man counting down. The warden stays quiet, thinking.

“On the count of three!”

Gon’s mind was racing, no words would form on his lips, his eyes bouncing between the warden and the inmate.

“One!”

Retz was the fast talker. Bartering a bribes her bread and butter. Gon was the slow plotter. Once he saw the route he wanted, he had to build up to it.

“Two!”

Everything was happening too fast. Nothing was going to plan. If this didn’t work out, if the man died before they could learn anything-

The warden stood, an order ringing out into the courtyard. The guard who had been counting down made a wild gesture, and the warden barked a second order in return. While the armed guards exited the courtyard, another came forward.

Gon saw the inmate visibly tense, then relax as the hood was taken off and his bindings cut. While rubbing his wrists, he looked over to where Gon stood, and winked.

~

At Gon’s lodgings, while the man cleaned up and changed into clothing from Gon’s own closet, Gon and Retz argued in the lower level.

“Retz, you’re not-”

“ You dropped out, remember? My schooling is far more along, and and you’ll need me to-”

“It’s not about that, it’s about him. And when I was there I was best in our class-”

“I can handle a man. And now I’m best-”

“We don't even know where-”

“Exactly! I was always the better speaker for non-dead languages. You’ll need me if we go anywhere outside of the country.”

Gon scowled, knowing he had been beat on this argument. “Fine. But only because you admitted to me being the better student.”

She rolled her eyes, aiming a smack at the back of his head which he dodged, giggling. 

“Do you two ever not argue?” The pale haired man leaned on the wall from the lowest step, nearly-white hair damp and falling around his ears. Gon’s eyes trailed over the pants he remembered not being nearly as tight on him, to the shirt that should have been buttoned but the two lowest ones strained as they were. 

He hadn’t imagined them being that different in size. Sure the stranger was around 6’ 1”, so the hem of Gon’s pants hit his ankles instead of the floor, and the sleeves of his shirt strained without even flexing. Rather than a belt, suspenders held the pants up, though Gon’s wasn't entirely sure it was needed. 

Retz pursed her lips, glancing between the two. “Only when we eat or sleep. You get used to it.”

The man rolled his eyes, running his hand through his hair, water droplets falling to the ground and dampening his shirt. “Academics. You’re all the same.”

Retz sneered. “Better to argue than to land a hit when your opponent least expects it. I had no idea you were so well acquainted with our kind, Mr..?”

He flicked his pale eyes from Gon’s to Retz’s. “Zoldyck, Killua Zoldyck.”

Gon cleared his throat, trying to not let his eyes trail too low. “Well, Mr. Zoldyck, we may as well discuss how to get closer to our destination tonight. We leave tomorrow.”

“Not without my bags, we can pick them up on the way to the dock.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

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Chapter Text

“I don’t like it.”

Mr. Zoldyck scoffed, leaning back in the chair, one foot propped up by his other knee. “I don’t either, but this boat docks at the closest location I can remember to get there.”

While he’d picked up his bags, he’d also changed into his own clothing and boots. Gon wasn't sure if he liked the change or missed the view.

Gon scowled, chewing on his lip. “There’s too many people. I don’t want word to get out-”

“What, worried about sharing the gold, Freecs?”

Gon shook his head. “Not really, not like that. The more people, the less likely the site is to stay intact and well preserved. And, well, you’re not wrong , I don’t like the idea of sharing, but it’s not the gold.”

Mr. Zoldyck frowned, dropping his foot to the ground and leaning forward. “You trying to tell me it's about the, what, credentials? Title? Being able to study it?”

Gon visibly paused. “Yeah, I guess that’s a bit closer to what it's about. It's… do you actually want to hear this? I was under the impression this was just a job to you. Are you worried about getting less than your cut? If you want you can have mine. I don’t want you to feel you've been cheated.”

The scowl didn't really leave the man's face, but he laughed, shaking his head and standing, turning to the door of their suite. “No, don’t worry about that. You saved my life, back at that prison. My cut of the treasure is just a bonus.” He tipped his head back, giving Gon a lazy smile. “The real trick is making sure you don’t lose your life, Freecss.” With that he left the room, locking the door behind him.

~

“Zoldyck! Join us for another game of cards?” Retz’s voice carried like bells over the crowd, her skirts creating a circle around her as she deftly shuffled a worn deck.

“After the last time? I don’t think so.”

“Bah! Spoil sport, though I suppose there’s not much you can bet with, is there?” Her wide hat kept the sinking sunlight from her eyes, a loose ribbon trailing along her neck. Killua noticed the purpling bruise that had formed under her jaw. The loose scarf around her neck meant she had given up any attempt to hide it.

“Why’s that?” She was dealing to three other men, one taking a long drag from his pipe, punctuating the question with a puff of smoke. 

“He’s recently-”

“Moved,” Killua ducked into Retz’s space, placing both hands on her shoulders. “I’ve just moved, you see, and none of my possessions will be here until after we return.”

“Return from Hamanaptra?” Another man, his red hair put into thin braids and pulled back into a high tail, looked at him over the collar of his cloak.

Rather than flinch as Retz did, Killua laughed. “What? The legendary city of gold? As if, no, our friend has family along the river, he misses them terribly, you see, isn't that right, Retz?” He gave her shoulders a squeeze before patting them and standing again. “What makes you so sure that’s where we were going?”

The man with the pipe chuckled, a smoke ring dissipating in the low light. “Your lady friend here might not have mentioned it explicitly, but what are the odds another pair of scholars are on the same boat we are, and not going to the same destination?”

“You three...are headed to Hamanaptra?” Killua thought about his next words carefully, Freecss’ concerned voice echoing in his head. “Isn’t it rather dangerous to travel there?”

The third man, wide shouldered and dark haired, let out a boisterous laugh. “That’s why we thought ahead! Got ourselves a guide that’s been there before. He’ll lead us the whole way.”

Killua felt an old scar on his hip begin to ache dully, a memory flickering in the back of his mind. “You don’t say. Well, Ms. Retz, enjoy your card game, I hope to see you before the end of the night.”

She nodded with a frown, then returned to her cards.

Killua began a slow venture around the boat, searching for a familiar face and desperately hoping not to see one.

~

Gon paced his room, mind flickering from the image of the burnt map, any book or journal entries regarding the lost city, and...a soft mouth on his own.

Aggressively rubbing at his face, trying to rid himself of feeling ghostly lips, he argued, “It’s not even the first time you’ve been kissed. You kissed plenty of other people. Everyone kissed everyone in college. Who didn’t  you kiss- well besides Retz…” But even as he tried to remember faces from his classes, the only one that seemed to come to the forefront was pale skinned, smooth cheeks, pointed chin and eyes that seemed eternally guarded and so blue.

He blinked, catching himself touching his lips and about to sigh dreamily. He flushed at the realization. “Idiot. Idiot, Idiot, idiot. Keep yourself impartial, this is a job, that’s it-”

The door opened, Mr. Zoldyck leaning down to make it through the doorway with a large duffle. His sleeves strained at the seams from the weight. “If you keep muttering like that, everyone will know what's up before too long.”

Gon clamped his teeth together. “Know-” his voice broke, so he cleared his throat, pulling at the collar of his sweater and tried again. “Know what, exactly?”

The taller man sighed, dropping the duffle onto his cot. “Then again, if Ms. Retz is as loose lipped as I'm beginning to think, I may not have to worry about you so much, Freecs. It seems there's another group headed to Hamanaptra.”

Gon sighed in relief, then wilted at the realization. “So other people are headed there…”

Mr. Zoldyck turned back to him, leaning down to meet his eyes. “Before you get too downtrodden by this, we don’t know who or what they're going by, much less if they’ll make it.”

Gon chewed on his lip, pondering, before nodding in agreement. “You’re right, thank you, Mr. Zoldyck.”

The paler man leaned back, rolling his eyes. “Enough of that. Call me Killua, everytime I hear ‘mister’ I think of an old man. I’m only 26.”

Gon blinked. Then blinked again. “You’re joking.”

Killua frowned. “No, why? I can't be much older than you-”

“I’m 27. I just had my birthday a few weeks ago.”

It was Killua's turn to blink. “That’s… surprising. You look…”

Gon sighed, pinching his cheek and pulling it exaggeratedly. “Yeah, I know, I’m fat. My brother, Leorio, says I’m still well fed from living at the college.”

Killua snickered, eyes trailing up and down Gon’s form. “I wasn't meaning that, though you do have a bit of a baby face.” He turned away, rummaging in his duffle. “You actually look rather fit. I’m guessing boxing? No, I was thinking you were younger than me because of how you reacted to the kiss.”

Gon’s face felt very warm, so he turned to the sink to wash his face for the night. “I don’t know what you mean.” Washing the soap out of his eyes, he asked, “What’s in the duffle?”

“Defensive maneuvers.” Killua had removed a long sheathed blade from the bag. Gon vaguely recognized it as a rapier. He’s thought they were only used in tournaments, but he could easily visualize the thin blade doing immense damage in skilled hands.

Killua’s hands-

The man was polishing the sword, checking the edges for any nicks. Picking up a whetstone, he set to sharpening it on the small table in the room. “Last time I was there, there was...something else.”

Gon hummed, dragging a towel over his face and wrapping it around his neck. “There’s legends of a tribe sworn to protect the city's secrets.”

But Killua shook his head. “Not them, though I think I ran into them as well. There’s...something else. I’m not one to believe in magic, Freecs, but if I've ever experienced it, it was at that place.”

Gon laughed, waving the warning away. “Magic? Please, those types of things are just- I’m surprised you’d fall for some superstitious warning like that, you being a worldly man and all.”

Killua finished sharpening the blade, cleaning it off before sheathing it. “All I’m saying is that I’d like to remain open to more than one surprise. You focus on finding whatever it is you’re really looking for,” Gon frowned at that, “and I’ll focus on keeping you and your dear Retz alive.” Killua punctuated the statement with a click of his revolver, barrel coming undone. Gon watched him inspect the firearm before loading it with bullets, clicking it shut, and sliding it into the holster he now had at his hip.

Gon wondered what it was that had scared the seasoned fighter.

~

Retz entered their room with a knock, throwing her wide brimmed hat to the side before collapsing into Gon’s cot. He pulled his glasses down his nose as he looked up from his chair in the corner. “Those damn Americans, two of them have sharp eyes, I couldn't lift any extra cards like I usually do.”

Killua leapt to his feet from the cot next to her, daggers abandoned, pointing a finger at her. “I knew it-”

“Yeah, yeah,” she sassed back, “but I don’t usually get caught until the end of my game. That old guy, smoking the tobacco, he’s sharp for a geezer. But the quiet one, he’s the one that scares me more.”

Gon raised an eyebrow at her, setting his glasses aside. “Killua said they might be headed to Hamanaptra, too? Did you learn their names, or how they’re getting there?”

Retz sat up and slipped her silk gloves off, throwing them to the side of the room and started to undo her hair pins. “Mm, the old guy, he’s some Doctor Morel Mackernasey, says he's on a sabbatical while doing research on, now see, here's the strange thing, practices of fishing and the maintaining of fish meat, while the loud mouth, Knuckle Bine, he’s hoping to find a more preserved record of ancient financing and currency that was used. The quiet guy, his name is Shoot McMahon. He...I have no idea what he wants. He really didn't talk, but he did have a few wicked hands.” Her blonde hair, when down, reached well past her shoulders. She picked up the lower half and fanned the back of her neck.

Gon frowned. “If you're warm, why did you take them out?” 

She pouted at him. “I had a headache, I'd rather be warm than deal with that.” Gon nodded, conceding to her logic, though worried about the rumors around the ship if she left their quarters without her hair up.

Killua was settling his duffle under his cot. “Now, I’m not one to inquire about people usually, but I have to ask, why aren't you two in a room together? Don’t you want to spend… time alone? Before we're stuck in tents?”

Gon frowned as he noticed a smile creep onto Retz’s face. “Spend time- We’ve been spending the whole time together.” Gon suddenly questioned what it was Killua expected of the two. “This is a serious expedition, if you think we’re here for, what, slumber parties and ghost stories-”

Killua coughed into a fist then fiddled with one suspender, face pink. “No, I mean, as a couple-”

Retz let out a piercing squeal of mirth as Gon blushed, realizing. Clapping her hands together, she asked, “You think we’re, what, a couple?”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I LOVE THIS SERIOUS FACED GON WITH MY WHOLE HEART

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Chapter Text

Killua flinched, then dragged a hand over his face, frowning. “Fuck, I don't see how else someone spends as much time together as you two seem to.”

Retz’s grin turned into a muffled giggle while Freecss covered his heated face. He leaned towards Killua, “No, it’s not that-” at the same time Retz said, “No, no, we just get along, you see-” 

“Don’t tell him that! That makes it seem  even more strange!”

“But it’s funny !”

“Not to me!” But even as he said it, a grin crept onto his face. Defeated, he sighed, rolling his eyes and gesturing a ‘carry on.’

Retz leaned forward, putting a hand up as if to speak in secret. “I used to have the biggest crush on Gon’s aunt. They owned a tavern in the same town I grew up in, and she had the prettiest smile.” Retz trained off with a dreamy sigh. “But alas, it was not meant to be. My brother moved us to a different town, then I happened to run into Gon at Uni.”

Killua turned to Freecss. “What happened to your aunt?”

Freecss’ hand went to his chest, hovering over it before returning to fiddling with the pages of the book in his lap. “She died, um, during the pandemic? Some tourists stayed in the tavern, got the whole place sick, most everyone died. It was the earlier part of the spread. I was visiting my brother at the time.” He paused. “She had to leave me a letter.”

Killua frowned, mouth opening to say something gracious, but he shook his head. “It’s fine, it was a long time ago. I’ve been living with my brother, or at Uni, since then.” He sighed, setting the book aside. “It is getting late, and we should be near the next port by morning.”

The other two nodded, Retz’s expression solemn while Killua’s was carefully blank. While she collected her pins, hat, and gloves, he stood to wash his face while Freecss set to turning out most of the lights.

~

Several hours into the night, a pair of canoes crept up on the steamboat. Cloaked figures climbed onto the deck, steps hushed by cloth wrapped shoes. A flurry of hand gestures and the group divided, three pairs dashing to separate areas of the ship.

Quiet as a shadow, the locks were picked and the doors opened. The light of the moon, reflected in a mirror, let the pairs check the visible faces and exposed packs of inhabitants, before stepping back and locking the door behind them.

The last door, closest to the engine, was finally opened. The two cots held one sleeping figure each, the closer one snoring. 

Illuminating the figures, then the pack nearest the bed of the snorer, the shadow began rummaging through it, finding a book with a page sticking further out than the rest. It fluttered to the ground when opened, causing the intruder to still. Three counts, no change in room. They proceed to pick up the paper, turning to exit.

The strike of a match caused them to whirl, sword drawn from their hip, map clenched in a fist.

Killua sat next to a newly lit candle, revolver balanced on his knee. He inclined an eyebrow, gesturing the barrel at the map. “Drop it.”

The intruder held still, cloak shadowing their face. Their sword hand trembled slightly.

“Look, I get it.” Killua spoke in his regular tone, praying that Freecss woke sooner than later. “You need to make sure people don’t disrupt whatever curse is on the place. Damned tourists like ourselves must be real annoying for your lot to deal with every other time. But taking that map isn’t going to stop us.”

If the intruder attacked, Freecss was closer to their blade. Killua wouldn't be able to stop it in time. Could he shoot the blade? Shoot the attacker? Killua knew their partner would be standing guard, waiting for the moment they needed help. If he could-

The swordsman stuffed the map into a fold of his suit, flourishing the sword as he did so. At the sound of the ruffling paper, Freecss rolled over the edge of the cot and under, so Killua lunged.

Rather than fight, the intruder stepped back and out the door, rotating in a flurry of dark cloth. Killua followed, bracing himself on the door frame, seeing the first figure run towards the front of the boat. He was stopped by another cloaked figure, brandishing metal claws held tightly in their fist. The second fighter didn't hesitate to attack, Killua just managing to dodge the first two swipes aimed at his chest, the third one grazing his left arm as it came down.

“Shit-” Killua hissed, spinning into a sidestep while bringing the revolver up, firing a shot into the attacker’s shoulder. They fell to the side with a low curse, their companion appearing, holding them up and pulling them over the side of the ship. Killua heard the dull thud of boots landing on wood.

“Freecss-” Killua glanced around, making sure no others tried to attack. Freecss was no longer under the cot, instead he had his back to Killua, rummaging in his pack. “Freecss, the map-”

Freecss whirled on him, grabbing Killua by the hips and pulling him down to sit on the cot, ripping the shredded sleeve open. He deftly prodded at the fresh cut, Killua wincing in response. “The cut’s not that deep, it shouldn't need stitches, but remember to be careful with it. Let me-” he uncapped a bottle, vile smelling fumes coming from it. Freecss tipped some of the contents onto a fresh cloth, then wrapped it around Killua’s forearm.

Killua bit back a screech as the contents stung, covering his face with a hand and propping it on his knee. Freecss finished the wrapping with a tight knot, caping the contents and returned it to his pack. Killua remained sitting, slowly moving his arm and breathing through his nose as Freecss explained, “From what you said, and other’s accounts, I thought something like this might happen, though I hadn't expected you to get hurt. As far as the map goes, I’ve had it mostly memorized for the last few hours.”

He turned back, tipped Killua’s face up, giving him a cheerful grin. “Though if my memory fails me, I will always have you.” Freecss stepped away, Killua’s head unmoving as warmth flooded his face. Freecss continued speaking from the otherside of the cot. “I won’t apologize for not telling you we might be attacked, but it seems you knew that too. I’m glad they turned out to be more interested in stealing, than in ending our journey altogether.” At that Killua’s eyes turned to him in time to see him bring up his hand, dragging a thumb across his own neck. Freecss then frowned and sniffed loudly, stepping around to pull Killua up, hand in hand. “You should pack up, I think there's a fire.”

Killua had both too many questions to ask, as well as nothing. His mind was a sudden blank, overcome by the swift care he’d received and the gentle hands that moved him about. Freecss’- Gon’s shoulders relaxed as Killua marveled at their hands, olive wrapped around his own pale fingers. When was the last time he’d been treated by someone not barking orders as they aggressively stitched a cut? And when was the last time someone had expressed being...happy to have him? 

Lost in Gon’s dark amber eyes, he jumped as Retz swung into the door frame, her curls flinging about, nightgown hugging her frame. “Gon- oh, you’re up, pack your bags, the ship is on fire.”

Gon let go of Killua’s hands after giving a quick squeeze, stepping aside to carefully assess his few books on the table, adding two to his bag as well as his glasses, leaving the remaining few. Killua grabbed his duffle from under the covers and threw it over his shoulder, mindful of the bandages, holstering his revolver.

They ran to Retz’s room, finding her tucking her hair into a hat, nightgown stuffed into a pair of trousers.

Gon frowned. “When did you get those?”

“The christmas party last year. Be a dear, grab my pack from the corner?” She shoved her arms into a waistcoat as Gon stepped away, collecting her toiletries. She threw a second pack into Killua’s arms, leaning close to his ear. “Sorry to ruin your moment, I’ll try to make a few more for you two.” She patted his hands then leaned away, winking as Killua’s ears turned bright red. “There’s a row boat on the other side of the ship,” she said, sidestepping around him out the door, “but I imagine most everyone is headed that way.”

She leaned over the side of the ship, but Killua pulled her back by her collar. “Not that way, idiot,” he hissed. “Those guys just crawled out from here, we have to try further away.”

“Why would they stay, they got what they wanted, right?” Gon questioned from the doorway. 

Retz whipped her head to him. “Got what!? ”

Gon flinched away, grimacing. “Ah, they may have gotten the map-” but was cut off by Retz’s screech.

Killua ignored their bickering, striding towards the front of the ship. Their steady pace was disrupted by a few other guests as they charged past them, then back, terror of the flames and clouds of smoke causing people to lose rationality and direction.

Worried about them keeping up, Killua turned back, only to see Gon still, staring up at the sky.

“What, are you looking for a shooting star or what? We have to-” Killua bit his tongue, eyes moving past Gon to meet another pair of eyes further down the deck. The wide shoulders and shorter stature were immediately familiar. The recognition in their own eyes confirmed it. 

Killua knew who was leading the Americans.

Gon continued, unfazed. “No, no wait. This is it.”

“Gon, sweetie, were in the middle of the river, we’re not-”

“No, listen! You see, here-” he pointed to the sky,  seeming to indicate a specific constellation. “This is it, this was on the map, it's the starting point for the map.”

Killua turned away from the now retreating figure, heart hammering, vaguely recalling someone in his troop mentioning something similar about stars before a very long night across the desert. “Alright then, I guess the next question is, can you two swim?”

~

“The n-next ti-time you throw m-me, Zoldyck-k, is the l-last time y-you touch me.” Retz spat through chattering teeth. Gon scooted closer to her, wrapping an arm around her shoulders. The fire provided more light than warmth, the dried brambles burning too fast.

Killua had argued against it, but Gon insisted that it would be best that they dry off before they started walking to the nearest village. If they showed up soaking wet, it would be a clear sign to the village that something was up, and anyone who wished to follow them would have an easier time of it, hearing the gossip of soaked travelers.

Most of their belongings surrounded them, drying in the desert air and whatever warmth came from the fire. The only things saved from the dip were the items in Gon’s pack, made of oil lined canvas with a wax lining around certain areas of the pack. Only a complete dunk under water would ruin his possessions, meaning most of the medical supplies were safe.

It was a blessing Killua was still unsure of who to thank. Instead, he cursed the state of his rifle and the few sticks of dynamite he’d brought. They might dry out, but there were always the grenades that were in the second pack. The gunpowder in those would still be dry, he could maybe-

“Killua,” Gon started, the fire turning his eyes into something like warm honey against the shadows. “What was it you saw? Before we jumped into the water?”

Pausing while drying the revolver, Killua took a quiet breath, pretending to inspect the barrel of his gun for remaining water droplets.

He had noticed it, Gon’s attentiveness. A wariness to his surroundings. It had so far been directed at the strangers who neared them. Killua presumed it was the way Gon was able to guard against surprises, of things unknown becoming known enough they couldn’t do him, or his loved ones, harm. He wasn’t sure he liked that attention being directed at him.

“Mm? Oh, that.” Killua did his best to downplay his own surprise. He still wasn't sure how he felt at seeing the familiar face. “That was someone from my garrison. He must be who’s leading the Americans.”

“The w-way you ac-acted, I’d-d say he wa-was m-more than th-at.” Retz finished with an especially visible shudder, turning to tuck her nose into Gon’s shoulder.

“Well, the obvious answer would be yes. We grew up together. If I didn't have siblings, I'd say he's the closest thing to a brother I'd had.”

“What happened?” Gon questioned, his eyes turning bright with something Killua couldn't quite place. “If you were that close, why didn’t you stay in touch?”

Killua stood, hoping to find some more brambles, or maybe even some driftwood. “I thought he died.” He stepped away from the light, and away from eyes that seemed to see more than he wanted.

Chapter Text

Once they were dry and the sun was rising, they arrived at the village. With much bartering on Gon’s part, they secured three camels in exchange for a bottle of balm Gon dug out of his bag. The reaction from the elder told Killua the balm far beyond common, but when the elder tried to give him coin or more provisions, Gon gestured with refusal. However, when the elder’s wife appeared with a basket and strong gestures, he reconsidered and took it with many bows. 

Retz grinned, snickering at him before accepting one of the camel’s lead reigns. “You never have been able to refuse old ladies anything.”

Gon scrunched his face and stuck his tongue out, handing Killua another’s lead and taking the time to secure the basket to his saddle. “If I wasn't nice to them, my Grams would rise from the grave and beat me with a stick. You met her, you know that.”

As they walked away from the village, Retz danced around her mount to face Killua, waggling her eyebrows. “Casanova here would show all the visiting ladies around town-”

Gon groaned, “Please, stop saying it like that, you’re making it sound weird-”

Retz laughed, “Because it was weird! They’d let this ten year old take them to local restaurants and shops and they’d buy you whatever!”

“That’s on them, they were the ones who wanted to spend the money. I wouldn't even let them hold my hand when I walked them around, I wasn't that oblivious! Mito warned me what they’re like. That’s why I kept them to the main streets, and made sure they spent money at the local’s businesses instead of the richer shops.” Gon leaned towards Killua, “Some came back after a few years to introduce their daughters to me. They’d almost be in their twenties while I was 14 and only thinking about getting into Uni. As if I’d be interested in-”

“Most men would! Most men dream about meeting some sweet little heiress with the mother’s blessings!” Retz feigned a swoon, leaned into her camel’s shoulder dramatically before the animal pushed her forward. “And yet, after all that, you still let old ladies talk you into the weirdest shit. What happened with that, oh, Baroness… was it Von or Van something?”

Gon waved her off, turning to Killua with a wolfish grin. “Now see, I can play things out a bit better now that I’m taller than their shoulders. I’ll smile and ask them about their home life, their hobbies, their interests... for my papers, of course.”

“Of course,” Killua parroted back, intrigued by this side of Gon. Killua’s general impressions of university students was the spectacles and rumpled sweaters he had been seeing from Gon. Noses in books, too much caffeine from coffee or tea, and ink stains on their fingers and sleeves. To think that Gon could also con old ladies in his downtime?

Gon continued, “They tell their husbands about the charming young scholar, and oh, how sweet he is, how handsome,” Gon rolled his eyes at that, “what a pity he can’t afford college, parents dead and gone, what a shame he’s stuck here, then tada , a week later an anonymous donation appears paying for a semester of my schooling, or donating to the library, and the husband has his wife on the next boat to London, talking about how his wife seems to be missing some grandchild or the, what was it the one time, the smog, I think he said?”

At this both Gon and Retz doubled over laughing. Wiping at a tear, Retz said between gasps, “Gods, you’re so sweet, but you really are quite the plotter, aren't you? You can be really selfish about certain things.” She heaved a sigh then turned to tuck her boot into the stirrup. It was time to ride.

Pulling the camel ahead to block Retz from their view, Gon drew a hand over his mouth, eyes flickering to meet Killua’s.

Killua’s heart leapt , the ba-dump edging just between pain and joy. It made Killua breathless, unable to look away until Gon turned to the camel’s saddle. “Yeah, I know,” Gon murmured, low enough only Killua heard.

Killua distantly wondered if he was part of some plot, ending with him leaving on a boat to London alone.

~

Half a day into riding, their stomachs inquired, loudly, about the contents of the basket from the old woman. They were all pleasantly surprised to find fresh root vegetables, dried figs and plums, a loaf of bread, and a flask of wine. Retz grappled for the flask, giving it an experimental sip before humming in satisfaction and tucking it into her own packs.

Gon had a handful of small… possibly turnips of a variety, Killua thought. Done with a plum, Killua held out a hand for one. Gon leaned over the empty space between their saddles, dropping one into his palm. 

Killua popped it into his mouth like a grape or cherry, but the hard flesh was surprisingly spicy. Killua coughed the two halves into his palm, weezing. “How in the hell can you eat those?” He complained loudly. His tongue felt like it had been scalded.

Gon reached, plucking the two halves out of Killua's hand. He seemed to be appraising them, saying, “I think they’re a bit hotter than normal, certainly smaller, possibly due to the nature of the soil, er, lack of. It’s uncommon to grow these in a desert, they don't do well with the heat though the sand works, so they’re probably a newer hybrid or she has a garden just for them. This kind of spice is popular, but the nutritional value from them is even more important.”

“That still doesn’t explain how you can just eat them like candy,” Killua drawled. As entertaining as Gon’s speeches were, his tendency to go around questions were becoming more noticeable to Killua. 

“He likes spicy food, he grew up on it! Don’t ever try his rice dish, you’ll either burn up or cough flames I swear…” Retz’s muttering from ahead of them trailed off as she tore into a chunk of bread.

Killua watched as Gon popped the two pieces into his mouth, eyes meeting. When he was done chewing, he licked his lips, and Killua felt his eyes drop to watch. He drew them back up to see the mischief in Gon's eyes, the smirk on his face.

~

After their small feast of turnips, figs, and bread, the sun was setting. Gon asked if Killua wanted a break, time to sleep, but he shook his head.

“If we keep going at this pace all through the night, we’ll make it in time by sunrise. We’re still not sure if the Americans will make it before us. I’m not sure how well my old buddy remembers the way to it, and I won't put much faith one way or the other in him making it or not.”

“True… but you can’t keep going like this, Killua. You need sleep eventually.” Gon’s concern laced his voice.

Killua was tempted to accept, maybe even ask if he could lean on Gon’s shoulder- “Eh, I’m used to little sleep. If we can actually get into the tomb, and I don't die from some curse,” he turned in time to see Gon grimace, mouth twisted into a sour line, and laughed. “If I don’t die from the curse, then I’ll sleep in the tomb. Who knows, maybe I'll feel more king-ly from the experience.”

Gon giggled at that while Retz scoffed and began arguing the technicalities and differences from tombs to the City of the Dead, and how the whole structure wasn't actually a tomb.

Their voices carried over the dunes for miles, cloaked horsemen watching them from atop a dune.

~

As the sky turned to lavender and the stars faded, Gon blinked grit and sleep out of his eyes when Killua turned his camel suddenly, heading straight for an outcropping of rocks. The stones were nearly fifty feet in the air, worn smooth by the sand carried in the wind. 

They eventually heard the sounds of horses approaching in the distance, and Retz brought up a tentative hand to return the enthusiastic wave from a larger man in white with pitch black hair.

“What a pleasant surprise, Mr. Zoldyck, Miss Retz. And here you told me you were visiting family!” Another man drawled, pipe bouncing in his lips.

“And if we are? We just got a bit turned around, you see. But here we are, together at last. Eh, Zushi?” Killua directed the comment at the rocks behind them. Gon startled, swinging his eyes up, up-

A figure slowly rose from the shadows between the rocks, leaning forward, the pale light enough to make out some features. The man looked younger than Killua, possibly shorter than Gon but with wider shoulders and more heavy in his arms. His light brown hair was trimmed close to his scalp while his full eyebrows were tilted down in concern.

He jumped down from the rocks, at a height that had Gon and half of the party leaning forward to be sure he wasn’t hurt. He rose deftly, wiping the sand from his thin shirt.

“I never expected to see you again, Zoldyck.” His hand lingered at a spot on his shoulder.

Gon noticed Killua’s hand trail to his side, just above his hip bone. “Same to you.”

The gray haired man tapped his pipe against a metal piece in his tack, trying to disrupt the tension. “While I do admire the reunion of brothers-in-arms, we have a more pressing issue. We can’t both have at Hamunaptra. What’s say you lot leave, peaceful like, for some fair compensation? Let’s see, 20 thousand jeni should be fair, yes?”

Retz spat into the sands. “As if!”

“No? Double that? What about-“

But Gon surged forward, sitting higher in his saddle than the smoker. “We’re not leaving.” His words carried a frosted bite to them. 

Retz was the next one to guide her camel forward, ever the fast talker. “I know! How about a wager? That’s something you and I can work with, can’t we?” Compared to Gon, Retz’s words were sweetened with honey. When the man didn’t disagree, she continued, “Let’s say...the first group, whichever member of the group, makes it to the city first, gets a whole day more to search before the other group. What do you say, gentlemen?”

The older man seemed to consider it, looking between his two companions, then to Zushi. When Zushi gave a small nod, the man moved his mount forward, hand extended. 

“Alright, you have a wager. Last ones to the city have to hold back excavation for one day.”

Retz extended her hand, but pulled it back before they could clasp. 

“By one day, I mean the following sunrise.”

The man's grin grew wider, shaking her hand twice before leaning back. “I hope you three are looking forward to sleeping in.”

Killua scoffed, “You wish. I pray you lot aren’t looking to cheat in the race, I’ll be watching.”

“Who needs to cheat when we have the clear advantage?” The dark haired man bellowed, patting his horse's neck.

Gon and Killua exchanged glances, smirking to the other.

Zushi accepted the spare horse from a third man, getting into the saddle, and spinning it around to face the open desert.

Retz leaned towards Killua. “What...are we waiting for?”

Killua urged his camel forward, pulling up in line with Zushi, Gon following suit. “We’re waiting for the City to be revealed.”

From lavender to pink and orange, they waited, lined up and itching to charge.

At last, as the sun appeared over the horizon, the desert air flickered, then solidified into a dark grey structure.

City in sight, the party charged.

The dark haired man and Killua had the lead by three lengths, but Gon’s camel surged, his laughs and whoops of joy encouraging the creature to gallop. As he passed Killua, he turned with a bright and blazing smile, one that left Killua looking dazed, as if blinking out sunlight.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
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These are by the phenomenal trashsketch ;; i love them omg

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Chapter Text

Race won, the conversations turned much more jovial. The Americans were good sports, losing to the young scholar. Gon had even warmed up to them, laughing at jokes, and learning their names. After exchanging credentials, studies, classes, and even telling a few stories about professors Dr. Morel knew, they parted ways on good terms. 

Killua advised they make camp on the more western side, giving them more light when their days would turn into night. The Americans made camp to the Southwest, a short jog away but enough that both groups could have conversations and not be overheard by the other.

Even though they were on friendlier terms, they still did not wish to share information, nor secrets.

After Gon did a quick inventory of their provisions - one of the few things they had not lost nor had to reduce when they jumped ship - his eyes scanned their current location.

Their camp space was small, a good eight yards from the building of the City. From what they could tell, it was one single structure, with perhaps two floors above the sands, but Retz had mentioned there could be as many as three to 6 lower levels under the sands.

Gon distantly wondered if they had been above the sands before.

As Gon turned away from the city, he saw Retz pause. This was now her fourth attempt at pitching the tent, but again it tipped when her eyes trailed to a part of the City with a large point, an obelisk, protruding from the top.

Gon gently took the canvas and rope from her, pushing her aside. “You keep this up and we’ll never get to use our headstart. What are you thinking about?” He knew the look on her face well.

Rather than respond, she turned away and paced, hand on her chin, the other wrapped around her waist. “It’s too strange. The entrance would be on the east side, facing the sun. But instead it looks like it's there,” she pointed behind her at the tower of stone, “putting it to the north. That’s not common. It’s- honestly it's just plain bizarre.”

“You just found a supposed mythical city,” Killua drawled, stacking dried wood to the side of the freshly made fire pit, “and you’re concerned about where the entrance to it is? You two really are strange.”

“If we want to accurately document it, we should keep track of everything. It’s the only way to keep it as true to the discovery as possible,” she mused, brow furrowed and back to pacing. 

Gon finished staking the tent, storing their bedding, packs, and provisions inside. “Well, should we get on our way? We can at least do a cursory search around before the sun sets, then head straight in at dawn tomorrow. You can map out the layout while the light is still good, then we won’t waste our firewood on you trying to make a torch using your own clothing.” He finished with a grin.

Retz whirled on him, face pink. “That was one time- ”

His grin grew, a giggle rising from his chest. “Yeah, sure it was.  Doesn’t mean it wasn't the most memorable part of that trip. You see, Killua, it was the middle of the day but a storm came in, it didn't rain for hours so she took her shirt, wrapped it around a wooden club, and tried to light it on fire, but she forgot any kind of accelerant. Then-”

“Alright, yes, I agree, let's get going.” She ducked past him and into the tent, retrieving her sketchbook and pencils while grumbling about who was most likely to remove shirts on this trip.

~

The remainder of the day was spent circling the city, Gon listing off glyphs he found and Retz sketching out the architecture, marking down any damage, what caused it, and its severity. Gon would look over the sketches, adding information revealed in whatever was carved into the walls and doors.

Killua felt more like a teacher supervising his students than the guide he was hired for. But he didn't mind the quiet he was allowed. It gave him time to think, remember. 

Years before, the place was almost the same. His defence force had stretched out far more than their two camps. The days were long, the nights longer. It was a month long wait at the city. The intel had said that the enemy troops would be arriving within days, and the garrison had been tasked with holding the territory. Killua had been second in command, Sergeant First Class, under Wing, the Lieutenant General. Zushi had been too young when he first enlisted with Killua, but eventually became a Corporal.

How long had they been friends? How long had he been at Killua’s side?

The intel was wrong. The General had sent letter after letter, informing the Sergeant Major that there had been no movement, not even a scout, no flags nor trumpets. The general requested they be sent to assist others at the front, but the return message was always the same.

Remain at post. 

So they remained. At the beginning of the fifth week, they finally spotted a scout on the horizon. 

Killua had taken him out, firing a rifle, but if the scout did not return to his camp, that told the enemy that their garrison was there, and they were waiting.

The first attack came in the night. They’d hoped to surprise Killua’s group, but the long wait had kept most of the men on edge, and they were able to hold their ground and send them into a retreat. 

The second attack was only days later. They could see them charge, could hear their battle cries and mounts scream. Killua and Zushi had held up the left flank, holding their ground well for overseeing the new troops. But then-

“Killua, he’s cornered, we have to go help the general. Killua, we have to go, KILLUA-”

“-llua? Killua.”

Killua blinked, and his vision was filled with Gon. No bloody fights, no face of betrayal, though the desert was the same. Instead he saw warm eyes, olive skin, hair up in impossible spikes, and a bright smile.

He giggled, stepping away from Killua’s perch. “You were really out of it. Have you noticed yet?”

Moving to jump off the rock, Killua started to say, “Notice wh-” but the twinge of pain was an obvious sign. Then he noticed the flushed feeling on his nose and cheek.

He was sunburnt.

Retz scoffed, “When was the last time you were out here, anyways? How’d you keep that fair skin pretty then?”

Ignoring her and the way Gon’s eyes flickered to his throat, Killua prodded at his face and down, finding his forehead, right cheek, and right side of his neck were fiery to the touch. He cursed, realizing he’d forgotten his headscarf in his duffle.

Gon's eyes remained, watching him assess the damage, then looked to the sky line. “It’s late enough for a break. We should drink and eat something light, then you can put something on that skin to keep the sun off.”

~

At camp, while Retz grabbed the last of the bread and their water, Gon grabbed another bottle of his miracle balm. Killua grimaced, but the collar of his shirt already felt too tight and sharp on his neck. Holding his breath for the fumes, he complied to getting it swabbed over his skin, the sting almost feeling like ice on the sunburn. While they shared a flask of water, Killua tucked a scarf around his head and shoulders, creating a hood that covered his forehead. 

Once they were hydrated and ready, they made their way back to the side of the City that was closest to the obelisk.

“I'm certain this has to be the entrance. We’ve looked everywhere else, and this is the only place that makes sense, but how do we get in ,” Retz mused, staring the point down as if she could intimidate it into talking.

Gon nodded, staring down a particular wall. “You’re right, based on this, this should be the entrance. They mention something about a key...but I dont think it's a physical key. Not like on doors. Perhaps…” he began to pat around the side of the door, feeling along the seams in the glyphs and the frames that surrounded the group of text.

Killua watched him carefully, Retz in his peripheral, leafing through her sketches and still muttering.

Chewing his lip, fidgeting with his scarf, he thought now was as good a time as any. Lurching to his feet, he stepped up next to Gon. He usually wasn't nervous about things, but this-

Gon didn't look away from the door, saying, “I know I can figure this out. I know I can, Killua. It’s here, it-”

“Of course you will. This is something you’ve been working towards for how long?” He was stalling. “Gon? I- You’re- um, look, I just...wanted to, uh, give this. To you.” Killua held out a rolled up leather bundle. Gon didn't look up, he just stared, unmoving, at the door. “It's, I noticed that, um, you don't, these are usually, uh, just, here.”

Gon slowly turned to face him, his mouth turned up in a surprised grin. “You...got something for me?” Gon took it, undoing the wrap and unrolling it. It showed several tools: chisels, picks, brushes, and mallet and a small ball-peen hammer. “This is…” he sighed, turning his eyes to Killua again. “Thank you. I was meaning to get one, before… but this, when-”

“It- Um, doesn’t matter, I just, I noticed...and I thought you might like one. Of it. Of that. Um, yeah.” Killua bit his lip, feeling flustered, the heat on his face had nothing to do with the sunburn.

Gon smiled again, something soft and thoughtful. He looked down, rewrapping the tools, and Killua thought that was it. He turned away, but Gon grabbed his hand, pulling him close. His other hand brushed his scarf behind his unburnt ear, bouncing on his toes to place a kiss onto Killua’s cheek. He stroked his hand with a thumb, looking up at him.

“Thank you, Killua.”

Killua was having a hard time remembering to breathe. “Mm, mhmm, yep, ah, any- um, anytime.” Killua swallowed hard, stepping away while pulling the hood down a bit more. Gon squeezed his hand before letting go, but his eyes followed him, holding the tool set to his chest.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

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You can see Killua's older scars... esp the one on his side...

Chapter Text

Killua was keeping his head down, breath even. In, hold, out, hold. Mind calm while his companions slept. He couldn't bear the thought of someone sneaking up on them while he slept calmly. Out, hold, in, hold. Things may seem cordial with the Americans, but Killua would not trust them.

In. Hold. Out. Hold.

He’d learned to meditate with a certain wakefulness when he was young, keeping it up through his times traveling, then with the troop. He’d saved more companions than he could count by doing this. Focusing on the black of his eyelids, thoughts wandering, then gone, never lasting too long for him to get lost in the potential of a dream.

Out. Hold. In. Hold

He could always sleep while Gon worked in the tomb.

Immediately, the force of this idea, this image, cast the vision of Gon, tool kit laying open before him, a laugh casting a glow about, engulfing both him and Gon. Killua wondered if it had been him to make Gon laugh like that. Laughing bright and cheerful, without the weight of his own thoughts and expectations.

Killua wanted to tell him how wonderful he was.

It was during this trailing thought when he first heard the scream of a horse. He startled, thinking that most of the beasts the Americans had brought were mild, working hard during the day and resting calmly at night. This scream was of a horse reared for battle, for fighting.

Killua lunged to his feet, kicking their dying fire into life as a shadow charged, hooves pounding, their sword swinging at the tent. Killua threw a blade at their arm, causing them to drop their sword and tumble from their horse, just missing the tent. They landed with a dull thud, then a curse in a forigen tongue.

He lunged, pulling the dagger from the attackers arm and slitting his throat in the same swing. Killua heard a muffled chorus of “Wha..?” from the tent.

“Ambush!” Killua yelled in response, grasping to be sure the revolver and rapier were still on his hips. The sword bumped against the back of his knee as he began walking out of the camp. “You two, stay here, guard the packs! I’ll be back!”

Not waiting for either of the two academics to argue, Killua charged towards the American camp, his feet kicking up sand behind him.

He just had to keep the attackers away from their tent. So long as Retz and Gon didn’t light any lanterns or move too much, none of the horsemen would notice them. Their belonging would be safe, and so would those two.

In the daylight, he had noticed that compared to their own lightened load, the Americans had been able to keep almost all of their supplies. Earlier, they’d had four tents and another canopy to keep the sun off them as they read and discussed their findings. As Killua approached, one of the tents was already trampled, blood spattering the canvas.

The larger fire pit was already back to a roaring flame, illuminating the attackers. Men in black robes, much like those who had attacked them on the boat, swarmed the camp. Most rode horses, destroying the canopy and their piles of luggage.

Knuckle was wrestling with one of the robbed figures on the ground, some horses shying away into the darkness. With one hit to the chest, possibly the diaphragm, his opponent stilled, slowly rolling away as Knuckle sprang back up, looking about for his next target.

More hooves to his right, Killua swung, revolver out of the holster, firing a round into the oncomers collarbone. These nomads would flee once injured, right? This was an attack for supply, it had to be.

Shoot was swinging a Winchester rifle around, his prosthetic deftly keeping it in place while he reloaded with his good hand, each shot causing one of the horsemen to fall. Each time a figure fell, a companion would ride in, pulling them up into the saddle with them. Shoot didn’t fire at them, only the ones who charged, weapon raised.

A man screamed, coming at Killua with his sword raised too high to properly defend with. Killua sidestepped his obvious chop, unsheathing his rapier with his left hand, lunging to pierce the man's forearm, between the bones, just above the wrist. The attacker screamed again, dropping his blade and wrenching his arm free before running off into the night. 

Morel waved a torch, seeming to keep the horses back, beasts rearing in fear. Occasionally the good doctor would lunge to catch the black material of the robes alight, causing them to flee, screaming insults at the group.

Killua moved up on two men who weren't paying attention. He knocked the first one unconscious, the butt of his sword to the top of their head, then sending an uppercut punch to the others lower jaw. Both men dropped. 

Zushi was in much the same position as Killua. Approaching stray figures to knock them out, render them unable to attack, or taking the weapons from them and tossing them into the fire. He fought with no weapon of his own, his fists wrapped in cloth as he dealt bone-shattering blows.

When his head was turned, a figure stepped into the light, directly in front of him. This figure was a whole head shorter than him. A metal claw glittered in their left hand. “Are you back for more?” Killua called out, revolver raised at the same shoulder he had struck on the boat.

Rather than respond, the figure reached into a fold of their robe, tossing something at Killua. He grabbed it, feeling the bullet in his fist, when the figure lunged. Killua dropped his revolver back to his side and dodged, noticing a dagger was now in their other hand.

The robed figure withdrew, dagger held up in a guard. “I thought you only thought to shoot things,” they spoke, their voice worn from shouting commands.

Killua swung his blade up, giving a flourish. “Only in doorways.”

He may have heard a laugh, but couldn’t think on it much longer as they lunged, claws swiping up at his belly while the dagged slashed at his face. Bringing the rapier up to guard, the claws glanced, casting sparks, as the dagger was deflected and caught on his shirt.

Killua hissed a curse. His opponent was smaller, but fast. Killua was able to shove them back, enough that they stumbled.

Killua noted the other fighting had slowed. The other cloaked figures were focused on Killua’s opponent as much as he was.

Taking advantage of his distraction, the figure dove again, both dagger and claws pointed straight at Killua’s chest.

Killua deflected both weapons, taking advantage of their proximity to bring one foot around and behind his opponents feet, pulling them with as Killua fell on his back. He twisted his blade around theirs, ripping them from their fingers as he shoved them over and back in a somersault.

Kicking the blades into the fire, Killua reached, then rose, rapier in one hand, a lit stick of dynamite flickering in the other. The wick was too long, it would take a full minute to explode.

His opponent rose, eyes on the sparks. They're hood had fallen back, revealing chin length blond hair and light eyes that reflected the crimson of the fire in a furious glow. A bright red gem dangled from one ear, swinging by their jawline.

“Enough!” they barked, and all the attacks in the area went from slowed to stopped. Their brows furrowed, the leader spoke to Killua in a heated tone. “Take this warning, foreigners. If you awaken the magician, you will regret ever returning to this place. You should have kept your life when we left it to you the last time.”

Killua gave them a thin smile. “So it was you,” he emphasised with a wave of the dynamite, the wick inches from the stick. “I wondered who dragged me out of the desert that damned night.”

The scowl turned into a sneer. “We shall retreat for the night. Treat your wounded, we shall bury our dead. Expect us to return, should you not heed our warning.” As they retreated into the dark, Killua plucked the wick out of the dynamite, tossing it into the flames.

He made note of the dagger, glowing bright red against the blackening embers. The shape made him think of a religious picture from the churches, a blade piercing the hearts of those against their cause.

Magician? Awaken? Killua shook his head, spitting into the sands to scare away the invited ghosts. It was bad enough that the talk of a curse had yet to die in their conversations, but now a specific boogie? Some monster that nomads feared so much they’d disrupted travelers days away on the river, and follow all the way to the location of the boogie?

He reached one of his boots, trying to kick the dagger out of the flames. Away from the flames, it glowed orange under the layer of soot and sand. Killua thought there may be jewels, cut gemstones into the hilt. Would they match the gem of the leader?

The leader of this group had been trying to scare them or ruin enough supplies that they had to leave. If there was treasure, as Retz and the Americans believed, the attackers would have made more money on stealing their supplies, slipping in while they slept and stripping them of all they had. Even Killua would not be fast enough to save half of their supplies, if they were quiet enough.

But no, instead they started up a fight, disrupting their sleep, destroying supplies that many would pay good money for. 

Killua leaned down, prodding at the dagger with the barrel of his gun. The blade was wider than usual, tapering in sharply into the crossguard. The guard was shaped into what looked like three bones, stacked atop each other, rounding out at the sides. The grip curved inwards, finishing at the pommel with a wide circle. The center of the cross guard was framed in red jewels, one larger cut at the center. They were probably the same red as the earring the leader had worn. A matching set?

Looking at it now, it seemed like more of an heirloom in appearance, though Killua noted the way it had cut through his shirt like cheap gauze. He reached to see if he could pick it up yet-

“Killua!”

Gon’s voice in the distance caused Killua to look up. He was jogging up, his shirt mostly unbuttoned or misbuttoned, the front panels tucked into his pants and his boots not even laced. He slowed as he got closer, tentatively stepping around bloodied spots in the sand. He seemed undisturbed  as he said, “Some of the men came by the tent, Retz almost stabbed them with her butter knife. They took the man you killed, and gave us a warning. ‘Don’t awaken the magician.’ Did-”

As Gon approached, he looked down to see the cooling dagger in the sands. He froze in a way Killua didn't particularly like.

As if he was surprised to see it there.

Rising slowly, heart pounding a little too quickly, he asked, “Gon? What is it?”

But the scholar shook his head, eyes flickering from the dagger to Killua’s face. His smile wobbled as he said, “Nothing, its- it was nothing, I thought I saw- its nothing, really.” Then he blinked, frowned, eyes narrowing in on  Killua’s hairline. “Oh, you're hurt.”

Chapter Text

Gon focused on one spot near Killua’s eyes before looking about Killua, trying to find any other injuries. There was a scrutiny to his gaze that had Killua blinking hard and turning away.

Killua reached up to his forehead, thinking back on tumbling into the sands, how a blade might have grazed him then. His hand came back covered in his own blood. “Oh, I- fuck, head wounds look worse than they are. It can’t be more than a scratch, if I didn’t notice until now. Don’t-”

Gon ignored him, reaching a gentle hand to wrap around Killua’s wrist, dragging him along back to their site. Gon called out, “Retz, can you grab my pack? Dr. Morel and the others may need some of that ointment.”

She had been peeking out of the tent flap. She nodded, head ducking back into the tent before returning with the pack full of bandages and the bottles of foul smelling ointment. She passed a few bottles and rags to Gon, flashing a wicked grin at Killua before continuing to the American camp.

Killua scrunched his nose, tempted to turn down the treatment, but thought better of it. The adrenaline was waning and he could suddenly feel the bruises on his back and how long the cut on his head really was. And if he got an infection out here, he may really die.

Gon must have noticed the face he had made. “I know,” he said gently, a smile hiding in his voice, “it smells vile, but it's the best stuff I’ve ever found or used.”

“Where’s it from?” Killua sat cross legged on one of the several cushions the Americans had thrown at them - literally - earlier that day. Gon kneeled on the one next to him.

Gon gestured for Killua to dip his head forward. He did, feeling a hot trail of blood running into his eyebrows. The contrast of the cold, wet cloth was startling, brushing over Killua’s brow and through his hair, trying to clean and find the wound.

“It’s something my mom came up with, but my dad gave it to me.”

Killua had been so focused on not making a noise - whether from the pain of the cut or the sigh lodged in his chest at the attention in his hair -  that he’d forgotten he’d even asked a question. He struggled to remember what he’d last said. Had it been about the ointment?

Rather than inquire more - embarrassment made his teeth clench and ears feel warm - he kept quiet as Gon continued to work.

“He left me the recipe, the last time we saw him.”

Gon made it sound like he didn't want to talk more about it, but it was the first time Killua had heard his companion mention anyone besides his aunt and brother. His interest got the better of his earlier embarrassment. “What’s he like?”

Gon never stopped parting through Killua’s hair - his hair felt less and less tacky - but he didn't respond for a time. Killua almost thought he’d blatantly ignore him, but eventually he said, “I never met him until a few years ago. My Aunt Mito said I must have been with my mom until I was about one or two, but then something happened. I don't know what, but Mito said Ging had shown up with me, handed me off and said that I needed someone to look after me.

“She once tried to tell me he was dead, but she...there's a wrinkle, near her left eye, it would always show up whenever she lied. She would sometimes lie to Grams, or some of the neighbors, and i would just start to notice it, you know? Then it would always appear when she talked about Ging. So I stopped asking.” He paused. “Then my brother found me. He’d been looking for my dad, and when he met our aunt, he was ecstatic. He’s the kind of person that loves having family around, all the time. Finding Mito wasn’t the same as finding Ging, but he was really happy to have found me.”

Gon set the rag aside, now using his fingers to card through Killua’s hair, looking for the cut. Killua did his best not to sigh, instead hissing once Gon’s fingers brushed the cut. It felt more ragged than he’d expected. 

“Anyways, I went with my brother late spring. It was that same summer the Spanish Flu struck our town. My aunt died, and Grams was...not doing well. She sent Ging a letter, and he showed up. Just like that. After years…. Well, I guess that tells you what he’s like. He's never there when you want him, only when he’s needed. He’ll move until his feet are raw, then wonder when that happened, or he’ll spend a whole week in one town, drinking and talking with all the locals, learning their problems, hearing their tales. Then he’s gone, moved on, looking for some truth to the tales, the lore, but he doesn't need you anymore, he's got all he needed.”

The ointment stunk worse this time. Was it stronger? Did it concentrate itself the longer it sat? Even with his eyes closed he fought tears, dragging a hand over his face.

“When Ging met us at the tavern, he asked my brother and I if we wanted to know about our moms. Not just my birth mom, but Leorio's mom too. But when I had the chance to hear it...it was too soon, after Mito and Grams. He listened to me, but he insisted that I needed this, the recipe. The only thing my mom ever left Ging besides me.”

The stinging was easing off finally, but as the goop crept across Killua’s scalp, Gon continued to part Killua’s hair, combing it, playing with it almost. They sat like that for a while, Killua’s head sinking down against his knees as Gon carded his fingers through his hair.

Gon murmured quietly, “The bleeding has stopped. I don’t think I need to put bandages on it.” 

Killua hummed, the stinging now feeling cool, similar to how it had on his sunburn. Feeling the cold rather than the heat of the desert, plus the quiet of the night and Gon close by, he almost forgot he was in the desert.

For a brief moment, he dreamed they were at Gon’s apartment. His head was in Gon’s lap rather than his own. He was stretched out, rather than curled onto a single cushion. Gon could be talking about turnips again. Killua realized he didn’t care so long as Gon kept talking to him.

Upon hearing Retz approach in the distance, Killua jerked up and away, falling backwards. Gon’s eyes stayed on Killua, seemingly sad in the low flickering light. His hand was outstretched for a moment before falling to his side.

Retz seemed rather jovial as she sauntered up, her grin wide as she held something up. “Dr. Morel sends his thanks for the medical supplies. As well as a bottle of Bordeaux. Shall we?” She sloshed the bottle in front of them. “We can have a bit of fun and be grateful to our fabulous guide for helping us all keep our heads.”

Killua cleared his throat, leaning away from the liquor. “I don’t drink, not that I should. I’ve never had a good time with it, plus it makes blood run more. I feel I’ve lost enough for the night.”

She pouted. “Spoil sport. Well, more for you and me, huh, sweetie?”

Gon nodded gratefully, taking the bottle and cracking the seal.

~

“Standup,” Gon slurred, holding his hands out to Killua. He was wobbling as he stood.

Killua looked at the hand over his water canteen. “Are you going to take me dancing or something, Freecss?” He set the water aside and reached his other hand out.

Gon giggles, throwing his head back as he yanked Killua up. “No! We’re gunna box!”

Killua scoffed. “Boxing? Really? You’re drunk-”

“Nah tha drunk-”

“And you can barely stand on your feet!”

“I cahn do more than stand-'' he cut himself off, jumping in place on the balls of his feet. “Come awn, Zoldyck, just you and me, Retz is already asleep with the west of the bottle-” a snore came from the tent, seemingly to punctuate his statement, “and I’ve bin itching to seeee how you hold up since I first saw you-”

Killua raised his fists in a guard, pulled back one, sending a jab with his right. Gon blocked, then altogether ducked as Killua came back up with a straight from his left fist.

They kept it up for a while, Killua doing his best to abide by boxing standards and not just send his knee into Gon’s blind spot. Gon avoided going near Killua’s bad arm and head, but he did more ducking than punching, always with an extra wobble to his spine. His eyes were sharp though, taking in Killua’s recovery, his stance, how high he held his guard, and how much he’d tip to avoid a sudden swing.

After a time Killua misstepped into Gon’s feet, rocking the both of them out of their forms. Rather than carry on, Gon giggled and barreled into Killua’s chest, toppling the both of them over. Gon pinned Killua to the sand, forearms framing his head. 

Hands and arms resting by his head, Killua wiggled his fingers, assessing there was next to no damage. He head throbbed, and he might have a bruise on his arm and a spot on his ribs but that would-

Gon was leaning close, his eyes looking soft and dark in the shadows of the firelight. “Killua?” His words had lost the slur of the Bordeaux.

“Um. Yes?” Killua was suddenly very aware of how close Gon was pressed into him. The flush from the wine and their spar turned his face rosy in the low light. Killua’s heart was beating a bit faster than it was during the spar, or even the fight from earlier.

One of Gon’s hands came up, pushing some of Killua’s bangs back, avoiding the cut. One finger snagged on a knot, causing Killua’s breath to hitch. Once it was freed, the same hand trailed fingers down the side of Killua’s face. Compared to Gon’s cool fingertips, his face felt too warm. 

“You’re so brave. So strong. You’re so skilled, but then-” Gon frowned, then continued. “I’ve been meaning to tell you how pretty you look. I mean it. I know you probably don't want to hear that from me. I’m just a frumpy academic.” Gon giggled and hummed. “But I’m nothing if not hopeful. You’ve protected me and Retz, you gave me that tool kit, I don't even know where, how you knew-”

“I sto- um, picked it up from one of the Americans. You, like I said, most, uh, I thought all archeologist had them-”

“Anthropologist.”

“Anthro-”

“Nevermind, no, that doesn't- what I like is that you think of me. And, well, when you kissed me-”

Killua flushed. “About that, I’m- That wasn’t-

“You could have kissed Retz-”

“I’m not-”

“So you are -”

“How could I not -”

Gon blinked, his smile growing. “You...what do you mean by that?”

“You...you're the college academic, you're telling me you can't figure that out?”

Leaning close, noses barely touching, Gon whispered, “I’d still like to hear it.”

Killua swallowed, sighing, “You’re...you’re cute, but you’re smart also. And… you care…” Killua flinched, shaking his head. He grabbed Gon by the shoulders and pulled them back up. “You really want to hear all of this? I don’t- I won’t have time for, for this , when I- when you- Aren’t I...just here for this dig? Aren’t I just a job, a means? Aren’t I just a map?”

Gon laughed, arms coming around Killua’s neck. “Who said you can’t come with me for the next dig? And the one after that? This one is important, but only until I graduate and get my credentials. Once I have those, I can go dig and explore anywhere. Won’t you come with me, Killua? I’d like it if you came with me.”

Doubts still plagued Killua’s mind, but the idea of staying with Gon-

“Yeah. Yeah I’ll go with you.”

Chapter Text

The next morning, Killua woke with a start. He was in the tent, a thin blanket over his chest and shoulders. When had he gotten here? There had been the skirmish with the desert people, then… Gon had dressed his head wound… 

Memories of his promise to stay with Gon caused him to flush. What was it about the other man that brought about this… want to stay by his side? Covering his face with a groan, he flipped back onto the ground. 

“Killua?”

Killua peaked from between his fingers, head tilting up, to see Gon sitting near his feet, leaning in from outside of the tent.  The opening of the tent faced northeast, and sunlight streamed down, casting a slight halo around his dark hair. His glasses were sliding down his nose, pushing into his cheeks.

His button up was still wrinkled, and his darker skin was smudged with dust and dirt. There was even a slight bruise blooming on his jaw from their boxing match the night before. 

The sight of him had Killua sighing, noticing the beat of his heart change at just the sight. He threw his head back and hands through his hair. He then yelped, finding the cut on his head.

“Killua, let me look at that. You shouldn’t be poking at it.”

Killua wanted to snap back that he was suffering from a ‘moment’, but decided against it, keeping quiet instead.

Gon pushed open the flap and maneuvered himself to kneel by Killua’s head. He pulled Killua by the shoulders, setting his head in his lap. Killua was helpless to do anything, suddenly feeling shy at the proximity. 

Combing through his hair, Gon clucked his tongue. “Looks like you bumped the scab. It’s bleeding again, but not so badly. Tonight we should be able to clean it and reapply the balm.”

Killua grumbled, and Gon laughed at his reaction. His fingers then traced down to Killua’s face, brushing up and down his cheekbones. “The sunburn is gone, too.” 

Killua dared to look up, meeting his gaze. His glasses were dangling from his ears, the gold framing his eyes. He felt his shyness melt away into an easy calm. Was this what it was? What made him so happy to agree to Gon’s wishes? 

Even being with Zushi, or his younger siblings, he’d never felt so at ease. At home it was a case of survival, always on edge. Protecting the younger siblings so they didn’t have to go through the same hardships he had to. With Zushi, there were good times, there was fun, but Killua was still always on edge. Never resting, never relaxing. Zushi has been in a similar state, always trying to out-clever people or prove something. 

Here? In the middle of the desert with nomads wishing them ill and Americans who would fight them for their possessions? With two others to look after and couldn’t - mostly - take care of themselves? Killua should  have been more concerned, more tense than he’d ever been before.

And yet here he lies, having his face and hair caressed, feeling as happy as a cat. Dozing with his head in the lap of some man that had helped to barter for his life. That saw value in Killua’s skills. That cared about Killua. 

“Did you rest well?” Gon murmured. It seemed he didn’t want to break the quiet either. 

“Yes,” Killua sighed. “I should have kept watch… I won’t fall asleep again, I promise.”

Rather than continued quiet, Killua felt a sharp impact into his forehead. He yelped, sitting upright and spinning to look at Gon.

Gon was frowning. “Killua, if you don't sleep, how will you be alert enough to save me when the mummies rise out of the grave?” The twinkle in his eye gave way to the humor he found in the statement. 

Killua returned the frown. “If you don't believe in the ghost stories, don't joke about them. That's just asking for bad shit to happen.”

Gon laughed at that, and another deeper voice joining in. 

“You never mentioned his sense of humor!” The voice sounded from outside the tent, finishing with a second laugh.

“Knuckle, it’s not kind to eavesdrop!” Gon called back, grin widening before laughing again.

Rather than dwell on embarrassment, Killua shoved him towards the entrance, causing them both to tumble out onto the sands. “I was being serious!” Killua called, rolling away and looking towards their guest. Knuckle sat next to their fire, his smile broad. He was fiddling with the dagger from the fight last night, the jewels in the guard glittering in the sunlight.

Killua gestured to the blade.“Who do you think they were?” Killua was looking at Knuckle, but saw Gon flinch out of the corner of his eye. 

Knuckle grunted, flipping the dagger around his fingers with the skill of a performer. “My best guess is really my only guess. Tribesmen sworn to protect the city. I’ve come across the type before, but never such an aggressive sort. They really meant to drive us out or kill us.”

Killua sat beside the older man and held his hand out. Knuckle passes the dagger to him, saying, “It’s old, nothing local. My first thought would be something passed down generationally, but why use something like that in battle? Perhaps it is a placeholder? To indicate the leader? Their strategist?” 

“Most likely the leader. When I fought them, the other fighters were all watching, as if making sure they didn’t fall. Possibly new to the position..?” Killua pondered aloud, but really he wanted to see if Gon reacted to any other words, any hints as to who their attackers may be.

One thing was for certain. Gon knew the owner of the dagger. But he probably had no idea what the dagger meant to them.

Gon sat next to Killua, thighs almost touching, passing a turnip to the man, leaning over Killua.

Knuckle took it, popping it in his mouth much like Killlua had done a few days before. He then winced. “That has some bite to it.”

Gon nodded happily, eating one for himself. “I love them. They’re not as hot as some peppers I've had, but it's a different kind of heat. It almost distracts me from the sun.” He laughed at his own joke, and the sound had Killua sighing before he could catch himself.

Rather than meet Knuckles questioning stare or the mirth in Gon’s eyes, he stood, sheathing the dagger next to his rapier, the sharp edges flashing in the light.

“We got the headstart yesterday, we should get Retz and try to pick up where we left off.” Gon nodded, hopping up with a particular skip that made Killua raise his eyebrows.

Knuckle sighed, patting the sand from his pants before waltzing back to his camp with a wave.

Once the American was out of war shot, Gon wrapped his hands around Killua’s arm, pulling him down, face close to his. “Killua, you won’t believe it, last night, while you were sleeping, I figured it out!”

Killua blinked away the memory of Gon leaning in close and asking him to keep adventuring with him. “Yeah? You figured out how to get in the door?”

Gon wilted visibly. “Well, no, not exactly. But tombs, there's certain elements that have to have added features, otherwise the layout might not start as sound. We just need to look on the top, a hatch, something -”

Retz barreled into him from nowhere, her eyes sparking with the same realization. “Yes! Yes, that could work! I think i remember seeing-”

An hour later, Killua found himself hoisting the other two up a particular pillar, praying they’d grapple the edge of the roof before someone stepped into his eye or nose. 

After Gon hoisted Retz up after him, he let a rope down and they both pulled Killua up after them. Retz looked around while the other two inspected the other. 

“I think I found it!”

Killua coiled up the rope, checking it for any damage, as Gon joined his classmate. They muttered to themselves for a few moments before he heard a triumphant cheer then a loud cracking sound.

A slab of stone, two feet by three, had collapsed into the building, resulting in a loud crash.

“This whole thing isn't going to collapse under us now, is it?”

Retz shook her head. “This one was designed to be loose as an escape hatch for any workers trapped. The ‘latch,’ I guess you could call it, is on the inside, but we were able to wiggle it loose using a loop of twine.”

“That’s… brilliant. Really.”

They both grinned at him, appreciating the praise.

“I hope the rope will last us a bit longer.”

“It should hold out for the time being. Though we won't have any more if we end up cutting this for more loops.”

~

Inside the tomb, Retz led the way using a mirror and lantern she’d thought to bring along. They lit the rooms enough that they could avoid smaller bits of fallen debris and the odd bones from animals that had crawled in. As they walked, Retz explained the general purpose for each room, passing into another before she could go into too many details. 

They’re goal was the obelisk. Retz was still certain that if they could open the main entrance, it would be better for later excavations.

Killua couldn't disagree, and not having to climb to the ‘roof’ would be a boon to his shoulders and face.

Her and Gon were also looking forward to what would be at the foot of the obelisk. Something to do with it being uncommon for it to protrude from the ceiling, and it being on the more northern side of the building rather than the east.

At last they reached it. Small rays of light drifted along the edges where it came out of the ceiling. Retz and Gon immediately looked toward the inside of the doors, Gon tracing the glyphs and Retz circled for some mechanism to open it.

Killua was drawn to the obelisk itself. The symbols carved into it were different from the ones he’d been observing the last day. Not only were they untouched by weather and wind, they held a certain edge to them that wasn't seen in the other symbols around the city.

“They’re warnings.”

Killua felt Gon’s hand on his shoulder, using a mirror to redirect the light over the carvings. 

“Most everywhere else is conversational, information on what the City is, where to find things. These? They’re like… imagine the curse words we say, but we spell them with their own letter system.”

“He means magic.”

“That’s what I said.”

“No it isn't,” Killua and Retz chorused in unison, then made a face at the other. 

“Okay, maybe not, but it's similar. Imagine if I said “rot in hell,’ but I believed magic could power up my words and make that happen? That’s what makes the words different, they incorporate that belief.” Gon frowned, voice quiet. “What’s strange is this combination….it's usually only used for… for burials…”

Retz had been looking at a particular wall, taking measurements down in her book. She whirled around at Gon’s words. “You're joking, no way.”

Killua frowned. “What's odd about that?”

Retz began to study the words as well. “This may be considered the city of the dead, but no one is buried here. No one. This was more...a preparation for burial. It was supposed to be a place for the king to keep his riches as well, so that’s why it's usually referred to as the city of gold.”

“Yes, it is.”

The three whirled, finding bright lanterns pointed their way. Killua jumped to the front of the group, revolver raised to Dr. Mackernasey’s face. Without lowering his gun, Killua gave a thin smile. “Doc, what a surprise. You lot found a way in?”

Knuckle stepped forward and lowered his lantern to the ground, rolling his sleeves up his toned forearms. “We had...additional information. About a secret entrance. Would you be so kind as to lower the firearm?”

“It’s alright, Knuckle. I’m in a fine position to defend.”

Gon looked down, seeing Morel had a smaller pistol aimed at Killua’s chest.

The idea of Killua, anyone, being shot. Here. In Front of him. The wave of terror and run that washed over him was ice cold. He felt a tremor in his fingers and shoulders. Could Killua make the first move? But then blood would be all over the site. They’d have to hide a body. If Killua could make the first move, they’d have to stay out here longer just to return the site to its original state-

It Killua couldn’t  make the first move-

“What if-” Gon stuttered. The tremors had made their way to his neck and jaw, the ache growing. “Why don’t we move on, Killua? Retz? We’ve got our notes, surely we can look at another area.” Gon stepped forward, resting a heavy arm on Killua’s.

“That would be for the best.” Shoot leaned forward, lantern casting sharp angles and  terrifying shadows on his face. In his hand he held a shotgun, the butt resting in the crook of his forearm.

Chapter Text

After the Americans voices stopped echoing, Gon slowed his pace, waving the other two closer. “The obelisk. I think it starts on a lower level.”

Retz paused, the lantern barely breaking the darkness, obscuring everyone's faces. “Shit, your right. There’s no way a body could fit in that section.”

“Exactly. If we can find it, and find out who was buried, it’ll be the marvel of the decade. Maybe even the century!”

“Yes! Yes, this is good. The recognition alone would help you get-”

“It’s- not about that, Retz.” Gon was tired of everyone jumping to that. “Anyways, I’ve been counting our paces, if we can find a way to the lower level, I'll be able to find it again.”

Retz looked up, scanning the hallways. “Damn it all, if only we had some better lighting, we could-”

“I know y’all are very concerned about the preservation of this place,” Killua drawled, something making scuffing sounds, followed by the strike of a match. “But what would you say to blowing a hole in the floor? I’ve got some dynamite-”

“What?!” Gon and Retz both shrieked. 

In the tiny firelight, Killua shushed them by holding a finger to his lips. “In a very controlled explosion, I can manage a three foot hole. At the least, we’ll start a small one, and we can chip at it until we’re through. How thick are these floors?”

“Roughly a meter,” Retz spoke immediately.

Killua dropped the match and stepped on the stick. “I’ll need to get the explosives into the brick by a few inches, but otherwise I can do that. Important stuff isn't usually on the ground or ceiling, right?”

Gon’s throat felt tight. Killua’s consideration wasn’t expected. It wasn't in the plan. The plan was to seek, find, and get out. This was something else.

He’d admit it, in the depth of his mind. The flirtations, the attraction, were wonderful to think about. The idea of being held by Killua, of holding Killua, caused a certain elation Gon hadn’t experienced in anyone else's presence.

Dreaming was one thing. Promises of adventure, staying side by side, was another. Killua asking to take action, asking to be involved while offering assistance only he could? This was unexpected. 

Gon was thrilled by the change of plan.

“Yeah,” he sighed. “Yeah, a small explosion near the center shouldn't cause enough damage for anything to be unreadable.”

~

Further down the hallway, Gon and Retz peered from behind a corner as Killua set to dumping the contents of the grenade into a further-dug crack in the ground. Retz clutched the rope in a white knuckle grip as Gon watched Killua stick a spare fuse into the crack and lead it a foot away from the crack.

Killua turned, signing he was ready. Once Gon and Retz nodded, he struck a match, lit the fuse, and he jogged back, rounding the corner, leaning over Gon. 

The blast was more like...Gon wasn't sure, but it certainly didn't make the sound he had expected. He almost thought it sounded like a cough.

Killua bounced back up and went to appraise his work, Retz and Gon following shortly behind.

The resulting hole went all the way through to reveal the pitch black of the lower level, and was roughly 20 to 25 inches wide. It curved inwards near the edge of the stone, but as Killua had said, they'd be able to dig the rest out. The damage would be minimized all the more.

Killua sighed, rubbing his neck. “I held back a bit more on the powder than I had initially thought...sorry, I was really hoping it would be just enough.”

“No, Killua, this is fine work. We can see through and can confirm that there's a lower level. We only need to dig out a bit more of the hole for Retz to fit, and I’ll barely make it. You might have to sit out…”

Killua rolled his broad shoulders, and Gon’s mouth went dry at the fabric pulling tightly along his back. In the low light, he then noticed Killua tilt his head back… the smirk on his lips thin. Dangerous. 

Gon turned his head away, adjusting his glasses and running a hand through his hair. He was suddenly reminded of drunken promises and the close press of their bodies.

“How are we getting down? The rope is fine but we don't have anything to tie it to,” Retz mused, leaning over. She pulled the lantern and rope to her, tying the rope around the handle with several large knots before lowering it into the hole. Gon saw her counting the amount of lengths the rope went down before it slackened. They all leaned forward, peering into the illuminated level.

There wasn't much to see, Gon noted. The lantern's orange glow revealed rubble, more sand, and a wider room than the hallway they were currently in. He moved to see other angles past the stone. There might have been a table. And...something like a cage? Thin strips of rusted metal crisscrossing over themselves.

“Looks like a clear drop. About ten feet? Most of the block turned into pretty small pieces in case we land on anything.” Retz spoke, in much the same position as Gon. “Now we just need to figure out how to lower ourselves down.”

Killua had been hunched over Gon. He then looked up, squinting into the darkness. “Bring that lanturn up. I can't see shit.” After a moment Retz pulled it back, and he slowly nodded to himself. “Yeah, I think I’ve got an idea.”

~

They left the tomb, bellies growling, with Killua explaining he needed something from their camp. After relieving themselves, they broke into their water reserves and enjoyed the last of their dried figs and finally worked into their own provisions of dried apples and meat. Retz took her meal to the American site, carrying a short conversation with Zushi before returning.

“He guarding the site?” Killua questioned as he swiftly dismantled their tent.

Retz nodded, taking a final swig from their water flask before tucking back into their packs. “He says Dr. Morel paid him another ten thousand jenni to stay out here.”

Killua clicked his tongue in annoyance, throwing one of the tent's support poles with him as they made  their way back to their rooftop entrance.

Whenever Retz or Gon tried to ask, he would shush them, glancing around. “Not yet.” Gon realized he might not want the Americans to know what they were up to.

They maneuvered back to their roof, down the winding hallways, avoiding the Americans in another hallway, and finally made it to their newly made hole in the floor.

“Start chipping at that,” Killua advised, “while I get this secured.”

Gon unrolled the toll kit Killua had given him the day before. His heart stuttered at the reminder. Pulling a wide chisel and the ball-peen hammer from their spots, he thought, were things moving too fast? Was Gon being too, too flirty? Too fast?

He handed a second chisel and the small mallet to Retz, who kept casting glances at Killua as he almost disappeared into the shadows. His white hair looked more like dust specks in Gon’s vision. 

Chipping away at the thinner edges of the stone, Retz and Gon made quick progress of the first few inches. It was simple, methodical work. Simple enough that Gon felt his thoughts wandering, trying to recall if he’d ever been as emotionally moved by anyone as he was currently.

Gon would admit it. He was a flirt. After years of getting the unwanted attention of older women, he had learned to work around their advances with his own empty kindness. Then at Uni, it had been even more so, the advances of professors and students alike coming towards him. Gon would get compliments on his easy smile, his kind way of talking. Most of his classmates were from a higher class of society, begrudgingly committing to their niceties, smiles, and thank yous when looked at by a stern professor or visiting relative, but Gon’s kindness was continuous and never ending. He was happy to help his classmates.

His kindness could only ever be mistaken as him being a flirt.

So he embraced it. 

Intentional winks. Flexing and gestures that drew the eye. An extra chuckle at a joke. He enjoyed the thrill of causing a certain look in people's eyes. The fact that it was his doing, that they were interested in him ? It was its own type of drug, and Gon drank it up. 

The physical side of these affections was a bonus. 

Most of his classmates had never flirted beyond the dinner table. Never engaged in anything past wistful grins and spoken gratitudes. With Gon, they eagerly expressed wanting to kiss and hold, be held - another challenge he took up easily.

His brother, Leorio, had been the one to warn him about the ramifications of dabbling with high society.

“Kissing and hugging are fine and all. Never more than that. Never promise anything. You don't want to deal with some furious duke because his daughter is suddenly pregnant or his son refuses an arranged marriage because he thinks his classmate will be able to carry out all his promises.”

“But, Leorio, I'm not-”

“I know you're not. I know. You're a sweet kid who just wants to make sure people know they are cared for. That they have someone to rely on. But the type of reliance other people expect with this kind of attention is going to get you into a lot more trouble than you mean.”

Gon had taken his brother’s words to heart. 

After hearing it aloud, Gon had felt shame. He suddenly feared he’d been treating his classmates the same as the old ladies had wanted to treat him when he was young.

But no, he and the others had whispered their eagerness in sighs across lips. Kissing and holding were different from attempting to buy his affection with cheap trinkets and food. 

After his talk with Leorio, Gon was more careful. All of his classmates knew he was happy to hold hands, lean into each other as they studied and recited class notes. He was the first one most turned to when needing to confide in their worries, their concerns for the future. When their own insecurities about their careers, schooling, and family obligations overcame them, he’d happily hold his arms out to them and wipe away tears. 

But no longer did he reach for kisses. For dark corners and mingled breathes. 

“People think you got proposed to.”

Gon had startled at Retz’s words, ruining a whole page of notes. He cursed at her, but she waved it off, giggling.

“It shouldn't be that surprising. You were a kissing machine before spring break. Even I've been wondering what happened.”

Gon felt the tips of his ears get warm. Had he truly been that precocious?

“I just...Leorio, he-”

“This is the half brother? Ging’s kid with that...oh what did she-”

“Yeah, that's him. He’s helping out at the national library while he's earning more money. But he talked to me about… my behavior. He pointed out that it could be seen as more serious then…. Then I took it?”

Retz pursed her lips, but nodded for him to continue. “I didn't mean anything by it. But I suppose that's the problem? I like kissing people, hugging them, holding them. But I also just don't care? Like when Alexe, he started dating that nurse, and he asked me to stop holding him, I was fine with it. I didn't care . I kinda miss talking to him about advanced biology in marine vegetation, but that's it.”

Retz frowned. “Wait, really? I thought you liked him. As in really- ”

“Well yeah, no one else can tell a weed from an echinacea, why wouldn't I like talking to him more? But that was it. The kissing and hugging was just a bonus. I like that part.”

Retz’s mouth made a funny twist. “Wait. Wait, hold on. You’re telling me, this whole time, you've… you haven't, like, been with someone?”

Gon frowned. “I’m with people all the time. I'm with you right now.”

“No, Gon, Gods, I mean sex. You haven’t slept with anyone?”

The flush was now traveling to his face. “No. Nothing like that.”

Retz squinted at him. “That’s… huh, I guess….”

It was Gon’s turn to twist his mouth in an awkward line. “Helena asked. And so did Alexe. That- it was a while ago. But I wasn't interested in them that way.”

Retz leaned back, humming. “She has been rather upset about things lately…”

“What? You've been talking to her?”

“Oh, we've been doing more than talking.”

Gon blinked. Then blinked again. “Oh.”

“So you're… not interested at all? In anyone? Like that, I mean?”

“No, no one here.”

“Hoho, ominous. You have some dream person you've been seeing without introducing me?”

Chapter Text

The chisel skidded, causing Gon to lurch. Snapped out of the memory, he blinked until Retz and Killua came back into view. 

Retz was too focused on her own work to notice Gon, but Killua was watching him, one hand held out as if to reach him, grab him. 

He had been worried Gon would fall into the hole.

Rather than think about the thudding of his heart or the heat of his ears, he turned his attention to the rope that trailed from the end of the hallway.

Gon set the tools to the side and stood, dusting his pants off. “What did you end up constructing?”

Killua also stood, their shoulders bumping. “I was able to use the tent pole as a brace, or wedge, holding the rope in place. Look here-” Down the hallway, light behind them, he pointed to the pole being wedged into place between two stones. The pole itself was about six feet long. It was wedged down into both sides of the hallway. Gon jostled it with a toe, but it was stuck.

“...I don’t remember the pole being that short.”

Killua had the decency to look guilty at ruining the tents main beam. His eyes then flickered to Gon’s hands, fidgeting in front of him. “Gon. You're bleeding.”

“Hm?”

Killua reached, hand grazing the back of Gon’s, causing goosebumps up his arm. “Your fingers.” His cool fingers wrapped around Gon’s wrist, pulling them up to his face. Three fingers had good sized nicks along his knuckles, possibly from rock chips flying. 

“Oh, those are nothing.”

“No, wait. Let me take care of you.” Killua pulled one of Gon's fingers next to his lip, pausing to flicker his eyes to Gon’s. “Is this okay?” Killua’s voice wavered, his breath cool against Gon’s fevered cuts. Gon’s breath froze in his lungs. When he nodded, Killua licked and sucked the blood from them, then pulled a cotton handkerchief from his pocket, sharp teeth starting tears that he pulled into strips, swiftly tying around his cuts.

Neat knots at the tops of his fingers, Killua held the hand in both of his. “Your balm should be able to take care of them once we're back at camp. I just didn't want you to get anything in them while we go further down. I doubt you would take the time to go back just for that.”

Gon grinned, guilty.

Killua sighed, sounding annoyed, but there was a shy grin on his lips. He then pulled his bottom lip in, teeth digging into it. “Gon,” he whispered, “about last night-”

Regret hit him quickly, making him breathless. “You don’t- please don’t feel obligated-”

“No, no I want to.”

He clamped his jaw shut, surprise leaving him wordless.

“I’m happy. That you want me to go on more adventures with you. More than you can ever imagine. You saved my life, back at the prison. My obligation leads me to lead you here, but now? I want to. I want to continue to be by your side. I already said I would, but now that you're sober, I just wanted to say it again. Now that we're both clear headed, I just...want to hear you say it again.”

Gon felt cold from the relief. “Killua. Will you stay with me? Keep traveling with me?”

“Yes. Yes I’d like that.” Killua’s grin was the widest Gon had seen yet, crooked to one side, a dimple in one cheek-

“Are you two done?” Retz drawled from behind them.

Gon sighed, head thrown back as Killua flinched. “Yes. Retz, what is it?”

“I think we're good.”

~

Killua’s contraption worked, somehow being able to support all three of them as they slid down the rope, lantern first.

Gon sent a quiet prayer that none of the Americans would find the hole and fall in. 

Retz spun, eyes wide and lantern swinging as she sighed dreamily. “It’s a preparation room.”

“A what?”

“It’s where they would prepare bodies for burial. Er, make mummies,” Gon told Killua, studying the walls. He murmured a few strange words before he turned more deliberately. “The way back to the obelisk should be this way.”

Walking down the corridor, Gon counted the steps under his breath, leading the way back.

After several long moments, they finally arrived, seeing the trapezoidal base of the obelisk, cut off by the ceiling. No weather had touched this part, the letters still sharp as if freshly chiseled. But the letters looked stranger, larger, bigger. Gon read more of the warnings, but they carried a harsher tone to it than higher on the obelisk. “Retz, this one here-”

She leaned in close next to him, fingers grazing the symbols. “Yeah, I see it, the… symbol for curse.”

“What?” Killua questioned again. “I thought you said this whole alphabet meant curses.”

“But there's one glyph in particular,” Retz explained, “that means curse curse. The others are more like magic words, but this one is the curse magic word.”

“Okay, and what does that mean?”

Retz and Gon glanced at each other. “There are two possibilities. First one, this person had an enemy that did not want them to have an easy afterlife,” Retz mused.

“The second,” Gon continued, “is that they did something very wrong.”

~

After fumbling along, looking along chisel marks, they finally confirmed which panel would loosen to the coffin stored inside. Gon grabbed his one brush, cleaning the lines of any debris, then nodded to himself. “Okay. I should be able to manage this.”

Killua frowned, unable to read the look on Gon’s face. “Manage what?”

Rather than respond, he situated himself into a crouch, digging his fingers into the stone and lifting. 

Killua dragged a hand over his mouth, hoping he didn't sigh out loud as he admired the sight. The seat of Gon’s pants strained across his now very noticeable, very round ass. Has it always been that sculpted? The man’s hips were not exactly narrow, squaring up with his torso, but had Killua really been missing that under sweaters and untucked shirts? Killua bit his thumb as Gon straightened, his thighs becoming more noticeable as he stood, shirt clinging to his straining back and arms. As he turned, keeping the slab of rock cradled in his arms, he met Killua’s gaze out of the corner of his eye.

Did he just wink at Killua?

He carried the slab over to one of the few blank parts of the wall, setting it down gently before standing, pulling at the collar of his shirt, airing himself. “Maybe I should have asked for some help,” he said, giving a crooked grin to Killua.

Killua barely heard him, much too focused on the red tinted skin on Gon’s face and neck. 

“Yeah,” Retz drawled, “now you have to drag the cursed bastard out from there.”

Once again Gon dropped down, and Killua immediately knew he was leaning in a very specific way. But as Gon grabbed the exposed sarcophagus, he pulled, made a noise, and fell back suddenly, laughing. “It's really light,” he said between gawfs, eyes twinkling. He righted himself then pulled the coffin out by his finger tips.

After a moment to breathe, Retz and Gon immediately began taking notes and tracing anything overly interesting. 

Killua had been quiet for some time looking at the pictures carved into the walls before he finally leaned into one, frowning at it. “Are those...fish?”

Gon glanced at where Killua gestured, a section of the wall with two large icons. He hummed to himself before nodding, turning back to his notes. “Yeah, it was common practice for pets to be buried with their masters, so they could stay together in the after life.”

Killua startled at that. “So, wait, did they kill them? So they could bury them at the same time?”

Retz stepped away and leaned into the same wall, nose scrunched. “Death was a huge part of their culture. It was essentially considered an immediate resurrection to them. They didn't view it to be as tragic as you're making it sound.” She then turned away to sit on the ground, flipping through her sketchbook to make sure nothing was incorrect.

“But they still….killed and… mummified ...fish.”

“Yep!” Gon chirped, facing turned towards the sides of the obelisk. He ran his fingers over the glyphs carved near the opening. “If I'm reading this right...the fish didn’t belong to this person. It...looks like, er, reads, that they actually belonged to the person they tried to resurrect. A...not a lover, per say, but...a true companion? A partner? Someone who you could trust to fight beside you and challenge you at the same time. Um, the word is complicated...Retz?”

Killua shook his head. It still didn't explain killing fish. He turned to sit on a space of wall the two scholars had marked down earlier in their excavation. He had to set his rapier aside, and the dagger stayed in his fingers. He began twirling it around his fingers.

Retz answered Gon, “The more exact translation would be ‘soul mate,’ deriving from the idea that the gods split man into two so they would be less powerful, unless they met their other half in the life they lived. Once they are together, the gods can’t separate them, until death.” She paused, drumming her fingers on the ground before springing up. “They say once you meet your soulmate, the rest of your life makes sense, any hardships, any struggles, they all finalize into the point of your meeting. Once together, their true purpose is made more noticeable to them.”

She glanced at the two men, who both pointedly did not look at the other. “I’ve got most of what I need,  so I’m going to go back to the camp. I’m..feeling kind of tired. The excitement from last night is getting to me.” She turned down a tunnel, bringing one hand up in a wave. “Behave, you two.”

Gon stared after her, Killua watching a now more recognizable glimmer in his eyes. “You always do that,” he said, speaking before his mind could remind him to keep his mouth shut.

Gon turned to look at Killua, now sprawled on the ground, back to a wall. He drew and casually flipped the dagger over and over again, catching it between the same two fingers. His eyes stayed on the area the dagger spun, but Gon knew he was watching everything in the room.

“Do what?” he questioned, keeping his eyes from the dagger, concerned about what had been noticed. Had he let it slip-

“You doubt people, then realize you doubted them. It's pretty visible. I'm not even sure if you know the face you make, when you check yourself.”

Gon frowned, sticking his tongue out. “I don’t make a face.”

“But you do.” Killua spun the dagger one last time before returning it to the sheath on his left side, opposite the revolver. “And by ‘face’ I mean you get this look in your eye. Like you're worried you're not going to see them again. Like you want to say goodbye.”

He frowned at Killua. “That’s not… I don’t think like that.”

Killua shrugged, tucking his thumbs under his suspenders. “That’s just how it looks to me. Like you’re worried you won't see them again, but don't know how to say it.”

Gon pursed his lips, setting the brush into the tool kit. He fingered at the ties for the leather roll, wondering how to phrase his words. 

But Killua leaned in, placing a hand over his. “You don't have to worry. We’ll figure it out, whatever it is you're worried about. Nothing's going to happen, right? Magic isn't real, there's no curse, all that, just like you were telling me on the ship.”

The ship? Had it really only been a few days since then? The first day in the desert, then the next day the camp had been ransacked. Now, here he was, worried about curses and ancient beings and cloaked figures.

“Right, of course, Killua. It’s just- the fight from last night is still getting to me is all.” Gon was still unsure about what he’d seen. Killua was looking at him as if he wanted to ask.

Gon had felt his sharp eyes on him the moment he had noticed the knife, last night by the fire. But there was no way…

Unless-

“This, here, this section talks about the person who was buried.” Gon was back to focusing on the sarcophagus, a squared off section of glyphs telling their story. “This whole...most of this isn’t what we usually see, from this era. There have been tons of uncovered burials and everything we’ve learned from them is that the burial should be all about the good they’ve done in their life, and how it will carry over into the next. All their riches, all that they learned. It will follow them and help them once reincarnated.”

“But not this one?”

“No. Buried with no real belongings? Trapped under a pillar, encased in the pillar like this? Even the sarcophagus itself isn’t made the same. Most are seen encased in layers, the outermost one being carved from marble or limestone, then precious metals, gold usually, and finally we have this layer.” Gon tapped on it for emphasis. “The wood is easier to carve into, so final rites, well wishes, dreams, those are carved here, closest to the body. But all we have is this one block of text, and the features on the head are actually the usual depictions of the god of judgement.”

“Is that strange? I thought deities were important.”

“They are, but their own face would be more important. And this text? It's a warning about what they did, not wishing well into their next life.”

“So what did they do?”

Gon cleared his throat, running his fingers over the carved glyphs as he read from them. “It says here that the great ruler, champion warrior, suffered a terrible loss, rendering him powerless and defeated. The magician, his co-ruler, committed a great sin to revive him to his glory, but before the act could be completed, the ritual was interrupted, and the magician was sentenced to suffer the greatest of curses. Never would he rest, confined to his tomb, his torment never ending, lest he be unburied and resurrected from his tomb. Should he rise, tenfold would his power be, and may the land be engulfed by plagues.”

Chapter Text

They were both quiet, breaths still. Finally Killua said, “So this is the fucker they’re so worried about? Those nomads?”

Gon stepped back, rubbing his neck. “I guess it is. This process...this ‘curse’ I suppose, it’s bad. Like really bad. Cursing their death like this so they can’t move on, be reincarnated, it’s major.”

“How major?”

“There’s stories of this kind of curse being used as a warning, a threat. It was worse than a prison sentence or even a regular execution.” Gon paused, staring into space as he thought aloud. “If we have the opportunity to examine the body in a more controlled environment we may be able to learn what they did. This ‘magician’ was most likely a physician or con man, either would warrant that type of title, but the curse-”

Gon stopped, feeling a hysterical giggle rise in his throat. “Can you hear me, Killua? Curses,” he shook his head, sending a wry grin at the other man. “Curses aside, this will be a huge find.”

After a pause, Killua stepped around so Gon could see his face. “As in… you graduating, huge? Credentials from the Uni, huge?” There was a twinkle in his blue eyes that had nothing to do with the flickering lantern, a grin that made Gon’s stomach flutter.

He swiped a hand over his face, lifting his glasses for a moment, hiding his grin. “Yeah, yeah maybe. But we’ll have to be careful. Lots of-“

“Notes, yes, I got it. We’ve only written down every detail three different ways.” He leaned in closely, one hand leaning on the coffin as he brought his face next to Gon’s. 

Gon began to smirk, slow and giddy. “We?” He tilted his face to the side, looking over the rim of his glasses, eyelids lowered. 

Flirting was easy for Gon. Most people weren’t expecting it from him. It was almost a novelty in that way. Once he did flirt, the surprise factor of it added into people’s willingness to agree, to do as he asked. 

Before, anyways.

But now? This was new . There were less questions between them, less uncertainties. 

Killua reached, sliding both of his hands into Gon’s. He pulled one up, close to his face, the other one smoothing circles in the back of Gon’s hand.

He paused, their hands just before his lips. “Yes,” Killua breathed, “we. You and me.” He placed a kiss on Gon’s knuckles, tender and lingering. “Together. Right?”

Gon’s breath shallowed, feeling a similar situation from last night but it was now flipped. Killua had been flustered before, but now he was making Gon’s heart jump at the sight of his pink lips touching his worn, darker hand.

He took a step forward, Killua stepping in time and back. “Yes.” Two more steps from each of them and Killua was backed into the wall. “Together.”

Killua sighed, leaning his forehead down against Gon’s. His sigh turned into slow, heavy breathing. “I’ve been meaning to ask you… what it is you want from me, Gon.”

Gon tilted his head away and to the side again. “Want?” Both of their hands tangled together at their sides. Killua leant his head down, his breath ghosting Gon’s neck. He was waiting for Gon to answer. “Killua, I want… so many things. So much. I want and want and I plan to keep everything. Anything that’s mine.”

Killua released one hand, trailing it up Gon’s arm, over his sleeves. Gon reached, placing his freed hand on the wall, leaning into Killua. Killua’s wandering hand paused along Gon's neck, holding his shirt collar between two fingers.

“Do you…”  Killua moved his head, bumping his nose against Gons, eyes steady on his. “Do you really always keep what you take?”

Gon had read and been told about moments between two people, where the world tilts and vanishes until it's only the two in existence. Nothing and no one else matters beyond themselves. It was within this moment, Gon knew and believed in everything he had heard. Every word, every exchange he and Killua had shared. It was leading to this.

Retz’s words played over in his mind, but he tampered that down. Soulmates be damned, no, this was more than fate and pre-woven destinies. This was the moment between two people, two individuals, who could read the other just as easily as they read themselves. Who had reached a point where sharing their soul didn’t feel like a theft of their identity, like an invasion on their entirety. No, rather, their souls had been looked at and carefully returned to them and they could go on and still be themselves.

Gon’s hand slid along the wall, circling around Killua’s waist, pulling him flush against him. Killua made a noise of surprise, but grinned widely until it carried into his eyes. His hand moved from Gon’s shirt collar to his shoulder as Gon leaned in, whispering, “Yes, I promise. I always do,” against his lips before pressing into them. 

Gon’s first thought was that it was too easy, too comfortable for the two of them to angle into the other, their height difference barely an issue. His second thought was that the kiss was sweet—tender—compared to others Gon had kissed. Killua seemed more nervous about this than anything else, about their intimacy. Gon could handle taking it slow, handle showing Killua that neither of them would break in each others hold. 

The second kiss had Killua’s nose bumping into Gon’s glasses, indenting into Gon’s round cheeks. Killua reached for them, sliding them up and over Gon’s head, setting them into the strap of his suspenders before moving his hand to Gon’s face, sliding into his hair. Their lips slanted together, and Gon moved to suck on Killua’s lower lip, pulling a sigh from the other man. Gon moved his lips over the noise, trapping it and then sighing himself, exchanging one last open-mouth kiss before pulling away, just a bit, to look at the man he was falling for.

Falling as fast as a comet.

Killua’s chest stuttered to hold air, seeming more breathless now than he had after the fight the night before. The lamplight showed the sunburn was gone, now his cheeks were a brighter red. Gon marveled at how he was the one to cause the blush on Killua’s face. White curls had been pulled straight, framing his temples and jaw. His normally blue eyes looked gray in the shadows, glazed and half lidded, as if he were waking from a dream.

Gon unwrapped his one arm from Killua’s hips, the other still tangled with Killua’s fingers, laying his open palm on Killua’s pale face. It looked too perfect there. “I should warn you. I’m really selfish with my promises. You’ll always be stuck with me. Even if you run, I’ll find you.”

He shivered in Gon’s hold, though he felt warmer than Gon. He pressed his face into Gon’s hand. “I- I don’t think I mind that as much as I should. Fuck, Gon. I’ve never-“

Gon pressed his mouth to Killua’s, shaking his head, lips brushing back and forth. “Me neither. I may have- I’ve held people, I care about people, but this? I’ve never felt this with anyone.”

“The last time I trusted someone, I got stabbed for it. I don’t think I could handle it if you stabbed me, if you left me, Gon.”

“Never. I promise not to. Ever.”

Killua shivered again, his hand in Gon’s hair sweeping lower and lower. It rounded on Gon’s ass, causing him to jump. As Killua pulled him towards him, a scalding breath by his ear, Killua whispered, “ That’s what you jump at?”

Gon’s mouth went dry. “I- um, I’ve never-“ He paused, taking in one huge breath. “I thought you said you’d never been with someone-“

Killua chuckled. “Just because I’ve never fallen for someone before,“ - Gon’s heart flipped at that confession - “doesn’t mean I haven’t fucked someone before, Gon. You don’t have to have feelings to fuck.” His hand dragged up back to Gon’s hip, thumb smoothing over his waistband.

Gon brought their held hands up between them. It was his turn to kiss Killua’s knuckles. He held his eyes as he did, watching the blush spread to his ears, saying, “I’d rather we wait a bit on that one. Possibly for a hotel. Or a cool bath.”

“You know, cold water typically is the opposite of what you want.”

“Then, after a cold bath, in a bed. My bed. I live alone. Unless..?”

Killua gave him a swift peck on the nose, then on each eyelid. “I’d like that. I’d like that a lot.”

~

Once the fever left their eyes, they realized Killua’s rope contraption must have worked — “Why’d you doubt me—“ “I never said I didn’t-—“ — and Retz must have had no problem getting back. Being that they had quite a bit more weight then than the more slender woman, they carefully pulled themselves up: Gon giving Killua a hoist up first - getting a few handfuls of Killua’s ass in joyous-retaliation for earlier - and Killua pulling Gon up after he rose a few feet on the rope. With an extra tug they tumbled to the ground again, getting lost in the sound of the other’s laughter and lips.

Back at camp, they were rewarded with an overwhelming smell of chicken and herbs. “Is that,” Gon paused, breathing in, “chicken and rice? That new powdered chicken fat?”

“Yep!” Retz chirped. “I figured there's no point in hiding after the noise we all made last night.”

The two men’s bellies growled in unison. “Where’d you get the water?” Killua wondered, stepping aside to construct the tent back to a proper shelter. 

“I bartered the other rice packet for enough water. With the extra basket of food helping us the first two days, we’re back to our five days of provisions. And I charmed more water than we really need for the rice.” Her grin turned thin. “I don't think our American friends are used to this region's cooking strategies.”

Gon hummed, breathing in the foods aroma. “Should be almost done. Killua, let me clean that head wound, then we can eat.” Killua grimaced, but complied. As soon as he was cursing the sting of the balm, Retz announced dinner was served.

They dug in with their own eating utensils, all eating from the cooking dish. She chatted about how the Americans had found a chest in the obelisk, but doubted it would be anything of relevance to their own find. Once she finished eating, she proclaimed exhaustion and that they could go over notes in the morning, retiring to the tent. Before closing the flap, she leaned out. “Gon? Want me to leave your sleeping gear outside?” But the wicked grin she shared caused Killua’s ears and neck to grow warm and Gon to throw sand at her, laughing. 

“I guess the secret is out,” Gon said with a smile, leaning back and spinning enough that his legs could stretch out without touching the flames. 

Giving him a glance over his shoulder, Killua murmured, “Did you...want it to be a secret?”

Gon laughed again. Killua wondered if he’d ever tire of the sound. “No, no, it’s an expression. If we weren't in a desert, I’d even introduce you to my brother. I’d take you to my hometown, introduce you to everyone.”

Killua let himself grin, imagining the smile on Gon’s face as he introduced him to a faceless crowd.

“What about you?”

“Hm?”

“Do you have anyone you want to introduce me to?”

Killua sneered. “Is this you asking about your future in-laws?”

Killua felt Gon’s hand reach, wrapping around the center suspenders strap, pulling him back into the sands beside him. Their eyes met, and Killua blushed, remembering his words. “I’m- I misspoke-“

“What if I’m happy you said that?” His glasses tilted to one side of his face as they turned to face each other. The firelight reflected in the edges of the glass, giving Gon a more mischievous look. “And what if I was asking about them?”

“Then I didn’t misspeak.” He reached blindly, finding Gon’s hand and wrapping his fingers between his. “I...don't talk to most of my family. They… They’re not what you’d call normal. But my two little siblings, there’s Kalluto, they’re living with my grandparents in Japan at the moment. Then Alluka is- she’s stuck with my parents. I want to get her out, bring her with me. But while I was in the army I couldn’t really bring her along. But now, if you’re okay with-“

“I’d be happy to have you both stay. With me.”

Relief made Killua blink heavily. He choked on a laugh, draping an arm over his eyes, rubbing at them. “Shit, I promised you I’d stay awake.”

“You will not. You sleep, I’ll wake you if I hear anything. I’ll take first watch,” he finished with a laugh, and Killua shifted until his cheek was pressed into Gon’s shoulder.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

This was one of the first times that Bibi stole my heart. Its happened multiple times by this point.

https://twitter.com/BiBi__chan?s=20
https://www.instagram.com/bibichan69/

Chapter Text

Teeth bared and gritted, Zushi pointed an accusing finger at him. He was soundless, words worn away from years of trying to forget. Rather than respond, Killua raised his rapier in a guard. In return Zushi drew his cutlass from his hip. The fight had barely been a minute but it dragged forever in Killua’s memories. Finally, weary from the battle and mourning the loss of Wing, they both stumbled, thrusting their blades at the other.

Killua managed to swing his blade, cutting deep into the muscle between Zushi’s collarbone and shoulder. He knew he’d just maimed his friend, but not being able to carry a sword was a far greater loss than his life, at least in Killua’s mind.

Zushi struck low, aiming to kill. Killua still felt the blade run him through,  just above his hip, the blade stuck as Zushi’s arm dropped, him howling in pain at the loss of control in his hand and fingers.

Killua fell back into the sands, too tired and heartbroken to try and pull the blade from his side. The sound of the battlefield died around him as his breathing slowed and vision dimmed.

Gasping at the memory of pain, Kilua lurched awake, grappling in the sands for Gon. The fire had died to embers, making everything dark. He reached where he’d been lying before. The sand was empty, the night air turning the ground and even his skin chilly. Had Gon left? He had no reason to go anywhere, and he’d said he'd wake KIllua. Had someone taken him? Had the American’s found out about what they’d found? What if Zushi had taken him as payback? If Killua couldn’t find him-

But no. Over the pounding of his heart, he heard the clink of the lantern shutter somewhere behind him. Gon hummed in acknowledgment, eyes focused on something in front of him.. Killua shuffled up beside him. “Is that a book?”

“In a way…” Gon murmured ominously.

The lantern light was soft, Gon was using his fingers to read the glyphs more than his actual sight, dragging his finger pads over each page. The book looked black, the pages heavy, not made of a paper like modern books. Killua reached out, feeling the material. “Is that...charcoal?”

“Essentially, yes. Dried wood that was fire kilned, it makes it more durable and incredibly light. Add about 2000 years and we get discoloration. When they made this, they carved into it twice. I can feel the etched words having two layers, one dug in deeper than the other. These… I think this was a magic book, er, a book of rituals and spells for high priests to use. This page...is about calling forward a soul that was recently lost, bringing them back to life.” He flipped over one of the pages, going to the last page. “Here it talks about...I think it's about our magician.”

Killus snorted. “He’s not ‘our’ anything. Where did you find this?”

“It was in the box the Americans found earlier.”

“You stole-“

“I’d call it borrowing-“

“Are you fucking-“

“It'll be fine, I’ll learn what I need to and put it right back.”

Killua paused. “I didn't take you for the light-fingered type.”

Gon looked at him from above his glasses, a flirtation smile gracing his lips. “Just because you feel my every touch doesn’t mean others do.”

“Or you just like me to notice.”

“I won't deny that,” he said, turning back to the book. “I knew the box was somewhere, I’d just hoped it was with the mummy, when we found that information on the obelisk. But that was wishful of me.”

“You knew this was here? Is this what you were hoping to find the whole time?”

Rather than answer Killua, Gon said, “As I was saying, this part here, it may be about the magician. It says… um, from the sands-'' Gon started to sound out the ancient words, stumbling with his tongue on occasion. Once he had a feel for it, he said the full thing again with no pause. He turned, smiling at Killua, saying-

Anything he could have said was drowned out.

It felt like a roar, but it was the absence of one. The pressure froze them in place with fear. It echoed and pulled, locking their limbs when all they wanted to do was cover their ears against the lack of sound. They wanted to scream and cry but their throats seized. Finally their legs gave out and they fell into the sand, still unable to make a sound. The book slipped from Gon’s hands, falling closed to the ground. Killua’s face tickled as his nose and ears bled. He watched Gon’s eyes, blank with terror, run with tears.

Killua thought he knew this, something like this. An insatiable bloodlust. It reminded him of the highs on a battlefield, men drawn to the thrill and their presence both consumed and consuming. Killua had faced a handful of men that felt this way. He had even succumbed to the joy of blood himself. But this-

This feeling was tens, hundreds, thousands of times worse.

This was a bloodlust of something inhuman.

The pressure dropped, causing Gon and Killua to relax into the sands. They both tried to catch their breath, Gon bringing a shaking hand to Killua’s face, meeting his eyes, before stumbling to the tent, croaking for Retz.

Killua’s eyes wandered to the American camp, seeing Dr. Morel lunged out of one tent, Knuckle and Shoot from another, the younger men rolling shirts over their heads, as Zushi popped up from near the dwindled fire. Killua watched the doctor run their way, losing his footing on occasion. Killua slid the book under him, laying on his back as if catching his breath.

Not that he wasn’t.

The book was barely covered by his back.

The doctor arrived as Retz and Gon lunged out of the tent, leaning into one another. “Where- Where is it,” the doctor demanded. “Give it here.” He angrily looked between Killua and Gon.

Gon stepped between Killua and Morel, shoving him back. “I don’t know what your on, old man, but I don't-“

The following scream- no, roar, was more deafening than the bloodlust.

The scream echoed from every entrance of the tomb and across every dune of sand, flattening the desert like a great storm. The fire embers blew away or died, and the roar was replaced by the soft sound of the beating of wings, far off in the distance.

With everyone's heads cranked to the skyline, Killua carefully stood, holding the book to his back, sidestepping to the collapsed tent on the ground. As he dug into the canvas, hoping to find his duffle at the least, he watched the starry horizon black out, as if a cloud rolled in, and the beating of wings grew louder. 

Knuckle cursed. “That’s impossible, they're a island species, they couldn't-“

“What the fuck are they?” Retz shrieked, panic gripping her. She began to twist her blonde curls into uneven braids, fingers trembling so badly that full lengths stuck out.

“They’re- I can't believe it, but koketsucho —hemotropic butterflies. They’re drawn to blood, I've never- in that kind of swarm-“

“Everyone!” Shoot bellowed, “Head to the tomb! We can wait there! This kind of swarm can NOT bode well for us!”

The Americans ran to camp to grab what they could as Killua, Gon, and Retz ran with their own packs. They followed the Americans to the entrance they had made near their site, little more than a hole blown into the wall. They ducked from both dangling chunks of rock and the odd insects that fluttered around their ears, their thin mouths reaching for bare skin.

“You guys sure seem less interested in research than you are in digging the place up!” Gon snapped, face red with rage. 

“You can argue about the scarcity of preservation after we escape the blood sucking bugs!” Retz screeched, slapping at one bug and crushing it. When she lifted her palm, even more streamed from its remains. She outright screamed at that, charging at a full sprint down one of the hallways. Killua and Gon charged after her, while the Americans ran in a different direction, all ducking away from the red swarm.

As he beat away the insects from his nose and ears, Killua had an idea. “Wait!” He grabbed the nomads dagger from his scabbard and drew the blade along the palm of his hand, letting the blood pool and drip onto the ground.

The butterflies dove for the growing red spot, one or two fluttering to the source. Killua swatted them away and dashed another few yards with the other two. At last, they were no longer surrounded. Retz leaned against the wall, gasping. Her hair was tangled and loose at the back of her head, nightgown dirty and shredded around her ankles. 

Killua and Gon both breathed heavily, but easily. Killua had to admire the man's endurance. There was no way he was this in shape simply from boxing at college.

Gon reached for the dagger, taking it from Killua and leaning next to Retz’s ankles, cutting at her nightgown. He brought it up to her knees, turning the fabric scrap into strips as she whined about her clothes. 

Once he had one longer, clean strip of fabric separated from the remainder, he gestured for Killua to bring his hand up. Killua blinked in response. Gon reached for the one he had cut, working up some saliva in his mouth and spitting into the cut. He used a corner of the cloth to clean it and wipe the blood from Killua’s upper lip and neck before wrapping it snuggly around. “I’ll apply the balm to it later. We need to find a way back out that's not covered in those koketsucho .”

Retz took two more loud, deep breaths before standing. “I think I can get back to the spot we came in earlier, but do we have a way to get out?”

“I can hoist you both up,” Killua explained, “and hope you two can bring me up.”

“You forget I can pick you up,” Gon stated. While Killua blushed, Retz clapped her hands together, giddy as a child.

As they walked through the corridor, feeling along the walls with no light, barely a shadow’s difference once their eyes did adjust, Retz slowed, causing the other two to bump into her. “The hole to the lower level is up ahead,” she said quietly. 

“Well we can just go around it. We know it was more to one side than the other-“

“It’s lighter up ahead.”

There was a quiet pause among the whole group. Killua squinted ahead. She was right. He let out a quiet curse, then stepped ahead. “I'll go first. Just- stay behind me.”

The pace was slower now, eyes scanning everywhere in the dark as the pale glow became just a bit stronger. They rounded the corner and there it was, the hole they had made earlier, illuminated with a new opening in the ceiling almost directly above it. 

Killua shivered. The whole thing was beyond ominous. He reached behind, grabbing Retz by her wrist. She grabbed his arm in turn. He couldn't look to see, but hoped Gon was doing the same. If the- whatever noise had happened earlier had caused the tomb floors and ceiling to be less stable, they may all fall to their death before escaping. 

Killua stepped, putting his full weight into each step before moving on. He hugged the wall furthest from the hole in the floor, praying to whoever listened that he wouldn’t die in a literal tomb.

Once he passed and felt Retz tumble into his back, he pulled her past him, around his duffle, reaching behind for Gon. He kept his eyes trained ahead, looking for any new trouble, flexing his outstretched hand in the hopes that Gon would reach back. 

When nothing happened, he looked behind him at the same time Retz gasped and shuddered, a horrible sound to echo in the tunnel.

Gon wasn’t there.

Chapter Text

One second, he was behind Killua and Retz, hand trailing along the wall, glancing behind to check that no bugs or Americans followed. The next he was in a moonlight streaked room, the air stale and dusted. He coughed at the first breath, eyes watering. He ripped his glasses off to wipe at his eyes, covering his mouth with his sweater. 

Had he fallen? He hadn’t noticed the floor move under him. His legs didn’t hurt as if he’d caught himself in a fall. 

He looked around, noticing a crescent shaped hole in the ceiling and a recently swept, dust free half-circle in the floor. There was also a curved line that followed to his feet.

A secret passage?

“Of all the luck-“ he finished with a sigh, putting his glasses back on, breathing in before dropping his sweater back down. 

If he could find the latch, somewhere in the wall, maybe Killua and Retz hadn’t gotten too far ahead. He could catch up and show it to them. It would be a good space to wait until morning when the swarm was gone. He reached along the wall, tapping along the blocks, hoping to notice an irregularity, a notch, something -

A noise behind him caused him to freeze. Had that been a sigh? A hum? He whirled around, looking about the room. There was no one. Had the hum been behind him?

He turned back, feeling along the wall. He just needed to get out before they left. He doubted they would, but the thought still plagued him. As the dust crept around him again, he sneezed, making a sound of disgust at the feeling of dirt in his nose. The sound echoed, seemingly coming from behind-

No-

Gon gasped, looking up to see yellow eyes, glowing, watching him from the opening in the ceiling. 

The eyes peaked from behind browned and crusted bandages, too bright in the low light. They seemed far too expressive to belong to a mummified corpse, slanted upwards in a mock of a grin. A boney hand curled its fingers over the edge of the stone, one at a time, very slowly..

Gon found himself suffering from a mixed feeling of joy and absolute dread. The spell. The curse.

Shit.

The Mummy reached another wrapped hand in, pulling, crushing the stone, making the opening bigger.

The monster was giggling.

Panic crept up, clawing at Gon’s throat. He had to get out, he had to get out. He fractionally moved along the wall, patting along the frame of the trap door. The stone crumbled behind him - clunk- clunk, clunk-clunk-clunk - the room growing brighter as the hole grew larger. Finally he heard a click, and he threw himself forward just as a large thump sounded behind him.

Gon felt a spinning sensation and then he was stumbling, feet unable to catch a solid landing, twisting, falling right for the floor, through the hole-

A hand grabbed him by his belt, pulling him back. He sobbed into Killua’s chest, clutching into his shirt, taking a single moment to breath him in.

“Gon, what the hell- “

“We have to get out of here!” Gon shouted past his shaking, grabbing Killua and Retz by the wrist, pulling them along the corridor, making it several feet before a deafening crash sounded and echoed behind. 

Killua pushed Gon and Retz behind him, throwing the duffle to their feet, drawing his rapier and revolver. 

Once the dust settled, the creature could clearly be seen in the silver light. Wispy tufts of hair stuck up, almost touching the ceiling. It was impossibly tall, the wrappings loose around its face and shoulders. It’s mouth stretched, grinning widely to show its few remaining teeth. It stretched out one thin, long arm, bones showing in its hand, pointing at them. It’s glowing eyes locked onto Gon’s, and it spoke.

High pitched tones and garbled notes, Gon flinched away from what he heard.

“What the fuck was that?!” Killua breathed, shifting his feet back just an inch more to his left, closer to Gon. 

But Gon couldn't speak. It was absurd, impossible. Magic and curses and creatures of the night, there was no way-

“It said,” Retz whispered, voice cracking in fear. “It said ‘You will do nicely.’”

“Fuck this!” Killua bellowed, unloading the revolver into the mummy’s forehead and chest. The creature staggered back, folding in half, but its feet stayed planted on the ground. Killua kept his eyes on the creature, holstering his gun and reaching out for Gon. “Go!”

Killua shoved them ahead, grabbing his duffle as he took up the back of their sprint. Retz’s sobs and Gon’s own racing heart were the only sounds in his ears. They blindly ran the remainder of the way, relying mostly on their own memories to not run straight into walls.

Finally the hatch in the ceiling was ahead, a rope dangling, waiting. Gon exclaimed at the sight, gesturing for Retz to go up first, hoisting her up by her feet until she rolled out of the way. Killua threw the duffle up, then stared at Gon.

Neither of them moved, waiting for the other to go up first.

It was Retz’s scream, one of surprise rather than terror, that prompted Gon to jump up and climb the rope, being pushed up by Killua. If that thing grabbed her-

But no, as he rolled onto the ceiling and scanned about, seeing Retz was being held, pack clutched in her arms, sword at her throat. They were surrounded by the robed figures. 

Gon reached behind without looking, clutching Killua’s forearm and helping him up as he maintained eye contact with one of the nomads. 

Once his feet were planted, Killua raised his rapier up, leveling it between shorter figures' eyes. He also brought up the dagger, keeping it raised at his side in a defensive block of Gon. 

A tense silence had Gon holding his breath, looking about, meeting Retz’s eyes, then the shorter man’s, then-

“ Leorio?” Gon said, startled. He knew his brother's eyes and stature well enough, even under piles of black cloth.

The man holding the sword to Retz’s throat flinched, then shoulders sagged. “Gon,” he spoke, placing a heavy hand on Retz’s shoulder as he sheathed the blade and dragged his hood back.

Gon stepped forward, pushing the dagger away, then pulling Killua’s rapier down despite the noise of complaint. “Then...Kurapika?”

The shorter figure did not flinch, but stayed still a moment longer before raising a gloved hand, signing to the group. All on the roof, as one, pulled back their hoods, and Gon recognized almost everyone there. 

“No way...all of you? But I just saw-“

“I tried to stop you,” Kurapika cut in, “When I burned the map. But then you found him, the same man I let live years before, after he was left for dead by his own men.” Kurapika looked past Gon, leveling a look at Killua. “I pitied you, being abandoned like that.”

Killua surged, leveling the rapier flat against Kurapika’s throat. Other’s of the group moved as if to defend, but again Kurapika’s hand gestured, keeping them back. “Keep your pity,” Killua seethed, spittle flying. “Tell me what the fuck that thing was.”

Retz grappled onto Leorio's arm, shuddering. “That thing was alive and moving. There’s no way-”

“So it truly has risen.” Kurapika interupted, cool, the chill carrying over and causing Gon to shiver.

Kurapika was furious.

“And it didn’t fall after I unloaded six bullets into each of its vitals. Now tell me-“

“It’s vitals are carefully stored away in jars. They were in the same box as the book which gave that creature its life again. I presume that was your doing?” Kurapika’s gaze slid to Gon’s. He nodded, despite feeling like he was the one with a blade to his throat. “But you do not have the jars?”

“Jars? Vitals? Kiurapika you can’t-” Gon shook his head. “N- no, the others, the Americans, I-“

Kurapika tsked, glancing over their shoulders. “I knew you shouldn’t have taught him how to-“

“It was a bonding moment!” Leorio shouted back, always one to get riled up easily.

“ When is pickpocketing- It doesn’t matter. The creature will search for its vital organs until it is restored, then will complete its ritual to restore the great warrior. We cannot allow that.” Kurapika shoved Killua back with one hand. “You’ve done the one thing we have fought to prevent for the last three millennia. Now we must find a way to stop this creature before the ritual can be completed.”

Gon stepped to help Killua from staggering back into the hatch. He then leaned forward, pleading, “Kurapika, let me help, I’m the one-“

“No,” Kurapika hissed. “For years I have tried to teach you that the laws of the ancient world did not die with the rise of civilization. I tried to explain that the laws of magic still exist within certain pockets of reality, but you laughed in my face. Now you have laughed for the last time, Gon. Your actions will bring about the fall of the entire world. You are the cause of the world's apocalypse.”

With that they spun, stepping off and dropping from the roof. 

~

The boat ride back was quiet. The Americans had disappeared into the desert with their horses, leaving most of their supplies to be taken by the desert. They had taken the box that held the book - still hidden in Killua’s duffle - meaning they were on the run with the mummies organs. 

The nomads had followed behind, seeing their path in the sands better than anyone else. 

Leorio had guided Retz, Killua and Gon back to the dock, a new ferry to take them back to the city. 

“Don't mind Kurapika,” he told Gon kindly, hand on his shoulder. “This is something they’ve feared their whole life. They grew up in this. It’s not you they are really mad at. We should have done a better job of stopping you from going.”

“Why me?”

“We’ve been stopping anyone who looks to go to Hamanaptra. The library is a final resource for most, meaning we can usually point them in the wrong direction or convince them otherwise. But not you,” he chuckled, pulling Gon into a hug, tucking Gon under his chin. “Not my determined little brother and his ragtag team, nothing dissuades you.”

“...It’s not just ‘cause I’m Ging’s kid?”

“Hey, listen.” Leorio held him at arms lengths, face unusually stern. “Dad gave us more than he cares to admit, but everything you do is for you. Your tenacity, your stubbornness, your kindness. I know for a fact Dad never gave me the respect I have for other people, much less the need to care about other people's well being. We may be his kids, but we’re not him. Okay? All we have is a name and a damn picture to throw darts at during family holidays. Got it?”

Remembering their dartboard hidden in the back of the broom closet, Gon had to laugh at that. 

With final farewells, Leorio got them on the boat home, but stayed at the port, waving them off before disappearing in the crowd. 

“Did you know?” Retz asked, wrapping a spare black cloak someone had given her tightly over her shoulders. A chill had taken over the area, unusual during this time of the summer. There was an ominous shadow with it, as if the promise of a storm also lingered, but the sky stayed a cloudless pale blue.

“Know that Leorio was part of a secret, ancient guard to protect the world from a monster that could rise at any time once some idiot-“ Retz scowled at him “- reads from a book? No, I didnt. I just thought him and Kurapika were married.”

Chapter Text

The river was dead quiet, empty and still like glass, so their ferry ride back to port was making record time. When night came, they retired to their one room, not fully trusting of the rest of passengers. 

After locking and even barricading the door, Killua pulled the black book out of his duffle, laying it on the coffee table in front of Gon.

Retz immediately began writing notes in her own sketchbook, cursing at Gon. “I can’t believe you didn’t wake me when you grabbed it-“ 

“You needed the sleep,” Gon answered plainly.

They spent the next hour or so studying the book, but eventually Retz began to lurch awake and Gon would yawn so strongly that tears formed in his eyes.

“We still have a while before the boat docks,” Killua said, the voice of reason among them. “You both should sleep, I’ll keep an eye out for anything unusual.”

Retz nodded, eyes barely open, sliding her books aside and crawling back to her cot.

Gon also set his books aside, but then leveled a glare at Killua over his glasses.

“What?” Killua griped. His ability to read Gon had been greatly minimized with the sudden appearance of a should-be-dead mummy and the greater lack of rest he himself had received.

“We’re in the middle of the river and those nomads are hunting the mummy. You don't need to keep guard from anything.”

“What do you propose I do then?”

Rather than respond, Gon simply extended both arms out, gesturing with his hands.

“I’m not doing that,” Killua retorted, the tips of his ears warm.

Gon’s frown turned into a scowl, and he repeated the motion. 

“ Gon I’m not-”

“Would you please -” Retz groaned from somewhere in the bedding, “just hold the needy bastard. I don't do hugs and he’s been known to get irrational.”

Killua fully blushed, looking to Gon, who had barely moved except his face now looked impatient. He moved his hands again in a ‘over here’ motion. Killua sighed, shoulders slumping, before sliding across the room and fitting himself between Gon’s legs, leaning into his back. Gon wrapped his arms around Killua’s chest, resting his chin on his shoulder. His head tilted into Killua’s hair, giving a contented sigh.

“I’ll watch your back,” Gon breathed, sounding half asleep, “and you can guard me. We’ll both watch out for each other.”

“Then who’s covering Retz?” Killua murmured back.

“‘ Retz ’ could deal with the nomads and kill you both if you don’t shut up,” she snipped, flinging herself up to jab a finger at them. Gon shrieked in Killua’s ear and ducked his head into his shoulder. Killua giggled at the reaction, imagining the two scholars going circles around him as Retz attempted to hit Gon with something. 

Once Gon’s own laughter subsided and Retz flopped into the bed again did they resume tucking chins and noses into the others shoulders and breathing slowly and evenly through the night.

~

Leaving port, Killua realized that walking through town was now a bizarre experience. Everyone continued about their daily lives, arguing about fish and produce, bartering over the head count of cattle and goats. Vendors screamed about trinkets and rare clothes. Gon even waved and chatted back at some of the familiar faces, but once the exchange was over his face would fall just a bit.

None of these people knew the apocalypse was coming toward them, bringing death and despair.

In truth, Killua could barely notice anything actually wrong , it was more the feeling in the air: the colors less bright, the smells less enjoyable, voices quicker to hush and murmur rather than continue chatting excitedly. Their ferry had docked around mid morning, and some vendors had already packed up, uneasiness in their eyes as they looked about for the trouble their instincts told them was about.

Too bad he couldn't tell them a three millennia old mummy was most likely rushing towards this town as they walked. 

Killua hadn’t voiced his thoughts yet, but the Americans had left from this same port. They either had temporary lodging or stayed somewhere close by. They would come back for their belongings at the least. If they did the smart thing and kept the damn cursed chest with them, it was here, in the city, sitting tidy for the mummy to find and put to its use.

He wondered if Zushi would also be here in the port, or if he’d return to Gods knows where.

As the group walked, soundless beyond the scuff of dirt under their feet, Killua observed how different their postures were: Retz had always stood straight in her demeanor, righteousness in every line of her face and body. Now she was tense, looking over her shoulder and flinching the whole walk back, the circles under her eyes only growing darker after their night on the boat. Gon had been like a coiled spring, a bundle of nerves, seemingly waiting for the right time to prove himself, always eager looking. Now he seemed more relaxed, an air of expectance, as if he was ready for anything despite being poorly prepared.

The kind of person Killua wanted fighting by his side. Someone who would never flinch.

He wondered if he could teach Gon how to fight with a sword. A goal for…. later.

Gon and Killua dropped Retz off at her hotel where she'd been staying for the week before their trip. The rest of her belongings were still there.

Retz began to fuss, bottom lip wobbling, “I can't wait to get into a clean set of clothes. Everyone has been staring at me in this nightgown-”

Cutting in, Gon explained, “Once you're ready, we can meet at the library, Leorio said they might have more information there. Some tapestries they've kept and the like.”

She pouted, but agreed. “Right, well, see you soon, you two.” She might have winked at Killua as she turned away, wiggling her fingers in a wave. Killua stuck his tongue out at her before he could stop himself. Gon noticed and laughed, but seemed to fall quiet too quickly.

The rest of the walk was tense, but Gon seemed more nervous than Killua, a few paces behind the dark haired man. Killua couldn't see his face, couldn't tell if his nose was flared from being angry, or if the wrinkle in his brow had formed when something seemed to be irritating him. He also couldn't see if he raised his hand to his face to adjunct his glasses, like he did when thinking, or rub at his lips, a new habit that Killua had noticed after they left the tomb that second night.

Was Gon regretting Killua coming with him? Did he blame Killua for not keeping him from the monster? Did he no longer want Killua to go into his house? They were strangers not a week prior, not even knowing the other existed. Killua took a moment to glance at his clothes, covered in dirt and shirt torn in more than a few places, blood dried into his no-longer-white shirt.

Was he too dirty for Gon’s house? A house , of all things, one that the man owned. Of course he wouldn't want him in-

Killua reasoned a look at Gon, breathing easily when he saw Gon in much the same state, outer vest barely holding together on one shoulder, a stripe of skin showing on one hip. If Killua being dirty was the issue, he could tease Gon about not being much better.

At last Gon slowed and turned into what Killua presumed was the doorway to his house. Killua stayed a few feet back as Gon worked the lock. He stepped aside so Killua could go first, but he didn't move. 

Killua worked his tongue loose then said, “Do you not want me to come with you?” He paused, not wanting his voice to waver with nerves. “You've been...tense since it's just been us two, I don't want to make you-”

“No, it's not that.” Gon frowned, thinking. “I’m just...we talked about you moving in, living with me. I'm just worried you won’t like the place, my place. Its…” be shifted from one foot in the other, staring at the ground. “I'm worried you won’t like it,” he finished simply.

Killua sighed, any worry gone, striding into the house, grabbing Gon’s arm and pulling him in behind him. Door closed, he spun, pinning Gon to the door. “Gon, I couldn't give a shit if you lived in a crate on the side of the road. I've been spending the last five years of my life living in tents or just in the dirt. So long as I'm with you,” he tipped Gon’s chin up, keeping his eyes on him, “I really don't care where we are.” He let go, turning around to rub the blush out of his face. “I will say it’ll be nice to have a real bed for a while. May take me some time to get used to it. And when I get Alluka, she’ll like the space.” He looked over his shoulder, sending Gon a wry grin. “She might not like downsizing into a crate with us as much as we would.”

Gon grinned at that, the tension melting and his smile wide again. Killua’s recently recovered breath faltered at the sight.

The house was small, narrow. More tall than wide and spacious.The entryway held a single coat rack and led to a kitchenette on the right, a sitting room to the left. The sitting room sported one chair and a lounge, candles strewn about on the odd sized tables in the room, framed by several book cases. Maps lined what little wall space remained, the daylight streaming through two east facing windows. 

Ahead of them in the center was a staircase going to the second level, where Killua could see two doors.

Gon pointed, “Bedroom is on the right, bathroom to the left.” He cast a glance at Killua. “There’s a tub, there, if you’d like to wash up.”

Pursing his lips, he murmured, “Are you really going to leave me alone in there?”

“Mm? I trust you Killua, I don't think you'd steal from me.”

Fighting back a giggle, Killua followed up with, “No, idiot, I’m asking if you want to join me.”

“Ah,” Gon responded, cheeks tinged just a slight pink. “I suppose we’d both be covered in dirt. And it’d save the water…” He slowly grinned, twirling around Killua and giving him a slight shove. “Start the water, I'll grab some linens for us.”

~

Skin pink and hair still wet, Killua returned to Gon’s room, running a towel over his head while Gon fished for clothing in a trunk, bare arse sticking up in the air.

Killua took some time to admire it under his bangs as Gon said, “In all honesty we might have to go to Leorio’s place for you to get decent clothing.”

“My pants are fine, I just need a decent shirt. The other one has too many rips in it. People will stare with-“

Gon made a triumphant sound, “This might fit you.” He threw the article at Killua’s head, which he caught.

Killua held it up, then glared at Gon. The shirt in question was much too large, and far too sheer for most people’s decency. Killua could see his fingers through both layers.

Gon simply grinned at him. “You could always go shirtless. I don’t mind.” He cast an obvious glance down Killua’s body, then back to his eyes, a smile fading into a worried line. Killua could feel the question in the air, floating heavy ever since he’d first removed his shirt. 

His skin was decorated in scars, criss crossing and overlapping into a pattern of nonsense and violence. Most had faded into his skin, only a shade lighter, silver in some lights, invisible most of the time. But Gon’s eyes trailed to one above Killua’s hip. There was a mirrored line on Killua’s back, where the blade had gone out and stuck.

Killua fingered the scar, pondering. “I got this a few years ago. The blade… it was left, and practically saved my life. The doctor wasn't sure i'd make it if not for that.”

“You sound pretty light hearted about this, Killua.” Gon was frowning.

Kilua shrugged. “I've never received worse, but I've had some close calls. Just a bit further-” His finger traced a half inch to the right, closer to his navel - “and i'd have been in real trouble.”

Gon’s frowned turned into a scowl. “You don't seem angry that someone did that to you.”

“It was a war, Gon. I have... I gave as good as I got.”

But Gon shook his head. “No, you didn't. Not that time. You gave Zushi a wound, but not an almost fatal one like that.”  Gon stared at the scar a moment longer before sighing, turning back to the truck. “I think I have another shirt that Leorio left here, but it may be a bit long…”

Chapter Text

“Hold!” Leorio drew up the reins, scanning about. “There’s nothing here. The creature didn't go this way.” He glanced around, seeing a disturbance in the sand. “Or if it did, it’s gone back the way it came.”

In a blur beside him, Kurapika dismounted and sprinted a few yards ahead. “Bastard!” they screamed, kicking the sands and storming in a circle, seething and muttering curses under their breath. 

Leorio sighed from atop his horse, waving the other two to head back to the tomb. Leaning one elbow on the saddle's horn, he watched the order’s leader with a combination of adoration and annoyance. After the blond had seemed to run out of colorful words for their target, he called out, “Kurapika.” They ignored him, running their hands through their hair and scrubbing at their face hurriedly. “Kurapika!”

Finally they spun, glaring daggers at him. “That thing was here, Leorio, it’s fucking laughing at us.”

“And you running in spirals isn't going to help,” he sighed in response.

Kurapika practically hissed, lips curled back, a thin line of white showing.

“Would you please get back on the horse,” he held out the lead rein in his other hand, “so we can head back to the city and help Gon? He might be able to think of something.”

They didn't move, but the rage was fading from their pale skin. 

Leorio tried again. “My brother didn’t mean it. You know he didn’t. Now he’s going to do everything he can to fix what happened, and the only way he’s going to do that and not kill himself in the process is if we look out for him. We’re the only ones that can let him into the War room, and he’s going to need that information if we’re going to decipher anything. He’s the better translator out of us.”

They huffed, blowing their bangs up in a puff before swiping the reins and mounting up, turning the horse to the river.

Leorio followed in silence, enjoying the heat of the sun under his head cloth, stretching his shoulders to absorb as much warmth as he could. A chill had crept into his chest that wouldn’t go away no matter how much-

“Why are you like that?”

“Hm?” Peaking one eye open, he saw they hadn't really moved, no indication they had turned to look at him. “Like what?”

“Just-” They shook their head. “Nothing, never mind.”

“Hey, Kurapika, that's no fair.”

“It's just- you have to be the biggest hot head I've ever met-”

“Even compared to Gon?”

“ Especially compared to him, and any time I try to have some time to get angry and let loose, you always talk me back down.”

“Well, my hot-headedness never resulted in people dying.”

“No one died, you helped them-”

“And I shouldn't have had to!”

“But you will. You do it every time. I appreciate it, truly, just not at the moment.”

“Pretty sure that’s why you keep me around.”

He saw them fiddle with a sleeve, gold cufflink glinting in the sun. He automatically went to his own matching ones. “It’s not the only reason, ” they muttered, affection heavy under the irritation.

~

The stupid grin on his face didn’t fall away until they made it to the river, their mounts shying away from the water for just a moment. Leorio led his horse a few steps more, but the beats stopped just short.

Squinting at the water, he said, “The water looks creepy.” He was understating. The river, which normally was turbulent and fast moving in this area, now appeared to be as smooth as glass, crawling along the banks like oil.

“Yes,” Kurapika agreed, eyes stony. “It's the creature's power, slowing stealing life out of things. It starts with the sun and the river, the two main life forces of the earth.”

They both fell silent, doing their best to urge their horses forward into the water. As they made their way across, swimming with their mounts after a certain point, Leorio noticed the water was colder than usual as well. Early summer should not feel as cold as it did. 

Dragging themselves out, lips blue and teeth chattering,  they stripped, placing their wet clothes on the flanks of their horses to dry. Once the sun chanced away the initial chill, Leorio took a moment to appreciate Kurapika’s blond hair, finger-combed back, showing more of their face, the red jewel by their ear catching the sunlight. When they caught him looking, they gave him a rare, flirtatious smirk.

“You’re as bad as when we first met, you know.”

Blushing full in the face, he retorted, “I wasn’t- I mean not-” He rubbed his chin, muttering, “You just looked good. I can’t help it.”

As Kurapika leaped back into the saddle, he caught them say, “You’re not bad looking yourself.”

The first thing to dry were their black cloaks, made of a strange material Kurapika had yet to tell Leorio about. 

“It's just, depending on the type-”

“You will not be making bandages out of these.”

“I would stop asking if you’d just tell me.”

“Yes, exactly.”

Dressed again, they rode hard, playfully racing the other until the city was in site. The library was located on the edge of the city, the back stable an easy way in and out for the Order. Dismounting and leading the horses in, Melody approached, a worried look on her face.

“What is it?” Leorio questioned.

“The Americans have sought solace here.”

Kurapika sneered. “Of course they did. Do they at least have anything of use with them? The vitals?”

Melody shook her head. “They come empty handed, but  can hear the worry from their hearts. They fear for their life. I would even call them brave, being out in the open with how they sound.”

Lips pursed, Kurapika nodded, then grimaced, picking at their still damp shirt. Fanning it off of their chest, they looked to Leorio. “We should change first. I imagine we won't get much time to ourselves after this.”

Kurapika and Leorio’s small apartment was technically a housekeeper's apartment: somewhere set from the main area of the third level, and close to their war room, it had the best vantage point with windows on two sides facing the desert in the direction of the tomb. Kurapika had even spent the extra money to place glass into the window frames, a costly expense that had Leorio griping about it for weeks.

Now, in their small room, elbows bumping as they shed their damp clothes and started grappling for new ones, the windows gave the eerie gray light of the sky, as if light itself were now unwell and impure.

Leorio caught Kurapika stopping, looking out the window with their breath held. 

“Hey,” he said, grabbing them by the shoulders and spinning them to face him. He started to button up the new shirt, fingers working quickly. “We’ll get through this. My brother may be an idiot sometimes but he’s gotten really good at fixing his own mistakes. With him, and us,” he brought one finger up, tipping Kurapika's face up to look him in the eye, “we’ll send that decrepit bastard back to its slumber.”

Rather than respond, Kurapika reached, grabbing and fixing both Leorio’s and their own cuffs into place. The gold and diamond still held its bright twinkle in the faded light. 

They both stayed like that for a moment, simply looking at their hands held together and twisting the glittering stone here and there. 

“We should travel.”

“Whah?”

“When we win. When the creature is defeated. We’ll leave. The Order's reason for existing will be accomplished, they won't need me anymore. We could go, see the world.”

Leorio blinked. “Only if you want to.”

“I wouldn't suggest it if i-”

“I know, Pika. I know.”

Chapter Text

Killua, properly dressed in the nicer-than-necessary shirt Gon had found him, was now following him down the street as they made their way to the library. 

While they walked, Gon explained or introduced the few shops and neighbors around him: introducing Killua as his dear friend, asking them about their wares, their livelihoods, even some of their extended family by names. 

Walking away from a very eager young family, who some of the younger children demanded ‘book time, book time,’ from, Killua was openly appraising the situation and the look on Gon’s face. “You sure know a lot,” he said, surprised. “But you don’t seem particularly invested.”

Gon gave him a sheepish look. “It would be rude if I wasn't kind to children, Killua. And, well, you get to know people when you live here for as long as I have.”

“How long is that?” Gon was nervous but also thankful Killua didn't point out how he had avoided half of the question.

“Mmm… Well… Mito passed away six years ago...and then Ging turned up shortly after that… So not quite five years? Ging sent me a letter and a key to the house, and I couldn't hold up the tavern the same as Mito and Abe could. So I sold it to a newer family and moved. Then it turned out Leorio was here, working at the library with Kurapika. So I've been just going back and forth from Uni and here on breaks until I left… 6 months ago now? I think? Yes, right around the start of the winter semester, so seven months.”

Killua’s lips pursed, then he looked ahead, shoving his hands in his pockets. “Why did you leave? You’re brilliant, and you love arche- anthropology.”

Gon hummed, grinning. “The teachers think I have a poor attention span. I’m really bad with their tests because I can't focus on one subject out of five, or I was so focused on one that I didn't even think about the other four. Things like that. That’s why I've been studying at the library or at home the past year.”

“So this is why you wanted to uncover the book? You said that’s what you were originally looking for.” From the look on Killua’s face, they both thought about the book hiding in his duffle right then. 

“Well, I knew about the book, but I figured anything would be better. I just needed something to leverage over everyone at Uni, so the professors wouldn’t….” He trailed off with a frown. “My dad is a pretty famous explorer, archeologist, anthropologist, anything and everything in the world. He just wants to learn everything about the world, about people. Anyways, half the Uni is convinced that I'm only in because of my dad. Because of the ‘Freecss’ name. And that was the main reason I left. My inability to focus like the other students, and the rumors that I was only staying in class because of my family name.” He chose to leave out the rumor that he’d been sleeping with one of the professors and some of the other students, but from the look on Killua’s face, he already knew he was hiding something again. Thankfully for Gon they had arrived at the library, Retz swinging her folded parasol over her arm in lazy circles. 

“You made it.” She squinted at Killua. “And you're both clean. New shirt, Mr. Zoldyck?”

Gon watched Kilua’s ears turn pink as he replied, “We’re trying to find a way to save the world”— Gon’s heart thudded at the statement—“and you’re thinking we had time for a tumble in the sheets?”

“Don’t tease us too much, Retz,” Gon explained, “we just wanted to enjoy a cold bath.” He started walking up the steps, casting a glance to catch the blush on Killua’s cheeks, and ignoring the questioning look on Retz’s brow. “Let's go in, I'm sure we can find something.”

When he had left the few days prior, several of the book shelves had been knocked to the ground after an insane accident at his brother’s expense. Now they all seemed properly righted, the ebony shelves reflecting the soft light of the many open shutters and lanterns on the corners of the walkways. 

Gon walked past the first row of shelves, heading straight to the back. “Zepile!” he called out, voice echoing around the rounded ceiling. “Zepile, where are you? We need to take a look at-”

“Hey, Gon!” Knuckle Bine barreled around a corner in a blur of white linen and black hair, grabbing Gon up in a hug, spinning him once before setting him back down. “You made it!” Shoot and Dr. Morel rounded the corner behind him, Zepile shortly after.

Gon stared agape, blinking at the Americans.

“You all made it? Thought those damn butterflies would have taken you out,” Killua retorted, eyes scanning. “Just you three made it?”

Dr. Morel sighed. “If you're asking about Zushi, he was with us in the tomb, you remember he ran with us, but we lost him after a while. We tried to wait around, to see if he made it out another way, but…”

Killua’s face turned stony, but he didn't say anything more. Gon remembered the scar on his side, how Killua had held it when speaking with Zushi outside of hamunaptra. He resisted twisting his mouth in distaste, remembering the conversations from earlier about the ex-soldier and past friend. The fact Killua still inquired about his safety showed a compassion others didn't recognise, one he had worked hard to hide.

Even after being stabbed by him, Killua still cared about him. Gon wasn't sure he'd have the same level of concern if someone hurt him like that. 

Zepile made a gesture for them to follow, leading them into a well lit back room Gon was distantly familiar with. Kurapika had always told him it was for storage, and Leorio had never disputed the curator. The door was larger than other rooms in the library, and always remained completely enclosed. Upon entering, Gon looked up to see the ceiling stretched straight up to the roof, a three story tall room with nothing above them but a single large window. Lower down, he noticed worn tapestries on the walls, and several bookshelves filled with scrolls towering almost twenty feet in the air, filled. He naturally gravitated to one tapestry depicting a past ruler and his conquests: the image of a man, black cloak billowing behind him, surrounded by other cloaked individuals, fanning around the ruler in a formation similar to a spider, but with too many legs.

He was just reading about the atrocities this ruler had committed when familiar voices suddenly appeared behind him as the door swung open too fast.

“Leorio? Kurapika?”

The two walked in, Kurapika last, slamming the door shut. “We lost it,” Kurapika seethed. They had their black traveling cloaks gripped in their hand, the other fist clenched in front of their chest. Their traditional blue vest with gold braids appeared too stark against their now pale skin. They threw their fist and cloak down,  “We searched the entire tomb and desert around and found nothing .” They spun, leveling a glare at Dr. Morel. “It will be looking for your party and the chest. That will be its first compulsion. Where is it? ”

Dr Morel seemed unphased, adjusting his spectacles on his nose. “Somewhere safe, I assure you.”

“Not good enough!” Kurapika screeched, lunging at the doctor. Knuckle and Shoot leaned in front of him just as Leorio reached one arm around Kurapika’s middle.

“Hey! No need to start fighting here. We all have the same goal in the end.” Leorio pulled the blond back and let go quickly, instead placing one hand on Kurapika’s shoulder. Leorio leveled a glance at Kurapika that Gon had always interpreted as a loving one. Embarrassed by their show of emotion, he looked away, but he still thought to ask his brother, preferably at a later time, if he was married, as well as in a group of apocalypse fighting nomads.

After the quiet exchange, Kurapika sighed. “You're right,” they said, pinching the bridge of their nose. “If you feel the box is safe, that will have to do for now.” They took a spot on the wall, leaning against it, arms crossed. “Now then, the question we all have is how do we stop it?”

Killua stretched his arms in front of him, sighing. “Well, bullets don't work. Will that change if it does get back some of its organs?”

“Likely not,” Gon said, stepping in. “The curse enacted prevents death. Even with the organs returned, I doubt we’d be able to kill it with anything of mortal design.”

“So even with its vital organs, it can't be killed by them,” Killua sighed. 

“Is that truly its goal though?” Shoot stepped in. “We found the part of the obelisk explaining the monster's action, so would the creature truly just try to retrieve its organs and enact the curse, or would it go back to its original objective?”

Knuckle, next to Shoot, hung his head. “Ever the romantic. But you’re right, it might try to finish what it started. Resurrecting the fallen comrade might still be its main focus, despite the desire to collect its organs.”

“What would it need for that?” Leorio mused, running a knuckle under his chin.

“Are...we are seriously talking about the requirements of a magic spell?” Dr Morel drawled. The disbelief on his face was obvious even with his glasses.

“You didn't see it,” Retz hissed. “You didn't-” she shivered, violently. Gon put a comforting hand on one of her arms. “It looked at us like we were the requirements, just items to pick up at the grocer’s.”

“That could very well be true,” Kurapika stated. “Human sacrifice was common practice, and in spells as grand and dark as a resurrection one, I could see a few humans being ingredients.”

Retz gasped and her eyes widened, spinning to look at Gon. “It said- It looked at Gon and said-” but her voice quivered, lips wobbling.

Gon gave her an easy smile before nodding. “It saw me in the tunnel. It said… it said something along the lines of ‘you will do.’' Gon pouted then. “Ancient languages typically don't translate well into spoken or heard language.”

“Idiot,” Killua muttered. “You being used in a magic spell is no joking matter.” Killua reached forward, giving Gon’s sleeve a tug once before letting go, hands returning to his pocket. “But why would it be so focused on Gon? Couldn't any of those guys,” he gestured at the three Americans, “work just as well?”

Zepile was staring at Gon, seemingly in deep thought. “Maybe..” he trailed off, eyes wandering to the tapestry Gon himself had been looking at, before spinning to one of the bookshelves. He rifled through several sections of scrolls before returning. He unrolled the one he had found, smoothing it out. “Here, it's old, one of the oldest we ever found, but it's an image of the magician and its warrior. See here?”

Zepile pointed to one figure with black hair, pulled back from its face, and dark eyes. The one next to him was much taller, red hair sticking up. “It could be that you look like him.”

Gon frowned. “I had no idea mummies cared about the physical appearances of their past comrades.”

Coughing, Zepile explained, a pink tint on his face, “It’s believed they were more-”

“I know,” Gon deadpanned. “I was over simplifying.” As Zepile seemed to bite down a wave of annoyance, Gon continued, “That still doesn't explain why it needs a person who looks similar.”

“Perhaps the original body won't regenerate like his will?” Retz pipped in.

“A more, er, alive body would be better to start with,” Leorio added. “Magic or no, a rotten corpse will have a hard time with certain movements, limbs reduced to dried jerky, essentially.”

Retz mused, “I forget he's a doctor..” and at the same time Knuckle said, “It would make sense, if the soul is still untethered.”

Gon gave him a questioning look.

“Reincarnation was the big belief, and would mean the soul has been used in a new person born, right? That sould could be inhabiting another body already. What happens if the mummy can’t get the warrior to come to life?”

“Maybe that’s what they were counting on,” Kurapika cut in. “What if its inability to resurrect the warrior is what sets off the curse?”

“Let's hope not.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

THIS IS TECHNICALLY FROM CHAPTER 14 BUT ITS STILL REFERNCED HERE

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Chapter Text

“Let's hope not.”

Everyone looked up, surprised to see the window open, and Zushi casually sitting along the ledge. “The magician gives you fair warning now. Surrender yourselves and your bodies, let him take you back to Hamunaptra, and he will be merciful. You,” he pointed at each of the Americans, “opened the chest and took the vital organs. Return them and offer yourselves up, and the mummy will not destroy the city. And if you,” he now directed a look at Gon, “offer yourself up, he will spare your...companions.” His eyes flickered to Killua for just a moment. “This is his gracious offer. Turn yourselves over before midnight. We shall wait at the port.”

As Zushi turned to jump out the window, Killua lunged. “Zushi!” The man paused in the window. “Why are you doing this? Do you hate me so much? Hate me for what I did? If that’s it, I understand. Take your anger out on me, kill me-”

“Killua!”

He ignored Gon. “Kill me instead. That’s what you want, right? Revenge?”

Zushi tilted his head back, eyes blank. “You’re really bad at understanding people, Killua.” He paused a moment, emotions flickering on his face faster than Gon could catch, watching Killua before saying, “I just want Wing back,” and lunging out the window.

The room was quiet. Gon’s mind reeling. He’d spare Killua? Spare Retz? Leorio and Kurapika too, they'd be safe if he gave himself up. What if he-

“That was a three story drop,” Leorio said in disbelief. “That kid just jumped. What if he's dead? He-”

“He’s fine!” Killus snapped, fists clenched at his side, head bowed. “That simple-minded idiot. That thing got to him. I always told him-”

“What did he mean, Killua? And you, what could he want revenge for? What happened between you two?” Retz inquired, a gloved hand hovering over her lips.

“It's- I’m not- It was a long time ago,” Killua finished lamely. “We had a.. A commander, our leader of the battalion, at Hamunaptra. He died in combat, Zushi never handled it well. It's done. Can that creature really bring back others?”

“If it has a body, of course,” Kurapika explained as if it were obvious. 

“It’ll destroy the city,” Knuckle said quietly, looking into the space ahead of him. 

Shoot placed his arm around Knuckles shoulders. “I know what you're thinking. We can’t trust that it will keep its word.”

“All these families. These innocent people-” Tears welled in the man's eyes, and he buried his face into Shoot’s bony shoulder. The thinner man smoothed circles into his shoulders and whispered words of comfort into his ear, eyes shining.

Gon was very carefully not looking at Killua or Retz. He could feel their stern gaze on him.

But… resurrection? There was…

“What if there's another book?” The room quieted. Gon continued, “Different rituals required different tones, different meanings. Different rituals. There's also the act of balance this would offer. This book, the book of the dead, there has to be a counterpart, a… a book of life, a book of-”

“It- of course!” Kurapika bellowed, moving from their corner to a section in the shelf, digging. “No, wait, its-” they moved over to a tapestry on the wall. “Here, Gon, your better at reading, I think it says here, my old master told me about it-”

Gon moved in next to Kurapika, fingers hovering over the worn animal skin. “Let’s see… obelisk...to the north...south… counterpoints… Ah ha!” He spun, looking about. “It was there! The whole time!”

“What? Where?” Retz attempted to lean in, but Gon was now moving, pacing in the small space. “No the-the obelisk we found was the main point, the warning. This tapestry warns that it was meant to keep travelers at bay, but obviously the allure of treasure was too much for most.” Gon glared at the Americans, who had the consciousness to look sheepish. “And that’s where the book of the dead is! The one they found. But the book of the living was also there! It's in the upper part of the obelisk!”

“Your kidding,” Killua drawled. “That thing was holding the dead body and two books?”

“They were meant to be switched! The book of the dead is more difficult to reach, since it would be the main way for the mummy to rise. But they mixed it up!” Gon laughed, running his hands through his hair. “They messed it up and we found the book of the dead first. The book of the living has to be there! If we can get to it-” Gon stopped, blinking, thinking. 

Killua was the first to catch on. “Gon, no, you will not-”

“But its for-”

“I don't care about humanity,” Killua replied plainly. “I care about you.”

Retz snorted. “Gee, thanks. But really, Gon, sweetie, what if the creature kills you before we can get to it?”

Gon shrugged. “Then I die and so does the mummy. But the amount of time it usually takes for a ritual to-”

“A hypothetical ritual that we have no clue about, with an unknown variable on if you need to stay alive for prior?” Killua shook his head. “It’s a dumb idea.”

Gon scowled. “It’s not.”

Leorio sighed, “Little brother, I know you want to be a hero-”

“It's not that!” Gon sliced the air with a hand. “It's not about being a hero, or being memorialized. Don’t you get it? I could give you guys the time to actually-”

“There’s too many knowns, too many certainties, Gon.” Kurapika stepped forward, laying a hand on Gon’s shoulder, looking up at him. “What youre offering is very brave, but also very stupid. What if it succeeds before we do? Then we’ll have the magician and the warrior.”

Gon’s scowl grew into something furious. “You lot won't hear me. I’m trying-” he took a breath, “I won’t lose you, any of you. Dead or alive, I won't let that happen.”

“Your feelings don't mean shit if you're dead,” Killua drawled. “Why wont you hear us? We can find another way.”

“No one else is saying anything!” Gon scrubbed at his face aggressively. “You guys can’t see-”

“No!” Killua stepped into his space. “You’re so hung up on proving a point that you can't see what we’re-”

Gon shoved Killua, storming past him and out the door.

~

Killua was too stunned to say anything as he left. 

Leorio and Kurapika sighed, heads falling forward. “He’s in a mood,” Leorio breathed, rubbing at his forehead as Kurapika nodded. 

“Don’t take him personally, Killua,” Retz explained. “He gets so hung up on one plan that he can’t see anything else. I knew the minute he got that look on his face.”

Killlua worked his jaw loose. “I know it well enough by now,” he croaked, “I just hoped he’d hear me through that thick skull of his.”

Knuckle and Shoot were exchanging quiet words while Dr Morel studied the map. Zepile and Kurapika also began exchanging words in a tongue Killua didn't recognize. Retz went back to the scroll on the table, studying the text.

Killua resigned himself to sitting on the floor, back to the wall. Had he messed up? Again? First he’d lost Zushi with his desperation to keep him safe, away from the heavier battle, like Wing had asked him too. Now in his efforts to protect Gon, had he pushed him away too?

Leorio squatted next to Killua, chin in his hand. “So.” Killua raised an eyebrow at him. “You and my little brother, huh?”

Killua kept quiet.

“He’s always been fired up about protecting people. It got worse after his aunt died. She’s actually our dad’s cousin, you know. Our second cousin. But she raised Gon, and when he lost her... and with him never getting to really meet Ging even though he knew Dad was out there? He has this mentality that he needs to watch out for people.” Leorio paused. “I noticed how you look at him. I just wanted to say I'm glad I have someone else to keep an eye out for him. He gets hotheaded about the strangest things…” Leorio trailed off, eyes wandering to the shorter blonde, now gone quiet while Zepile explained something, gesturing wildly. “I can relate, to keeping an eye out for the hot head,” he said with a smile, fiddling with a cuff link.

“What can I do?” Killua asked after a pause.

“Mm, let him fume? Make him see reason? His plan is he gives himself up in the hopes we stay safe and can look for the other book. That would also rely on those guys,” he gestured to the Americans, “agreeing to go with that same plan. None of us know the ritual though, and we have…” He looked at the watch on his wrist. “Half a day to come up with another plan, assuming the creature keeps its word.”

“About Gon meeting them at the port.”

“Exactly. Why wait? It's already powerful, even half generated. Why bargain with us when it could just pick us off one by one. I think it's watching us. Waiting to do just that.”

“Then Gon-”

Leorio put a heavy hand on Killua’s shoulder, guiding him back down. “I misspoke. It’s first priority would be to find its organs. Then it’ll be at full power. If it does that before midnight, we may be shit out of luck.”

Killua blinked. “Wow, you're actually pretty smart.”

“‘ Actually-’ “ he mimicked with a scoff. “Listen here. I want you to go and talk to Gon. Explain that to him. Make him see reason. Absolutely do not let him start running off to the desert with that-- what did you say his name was? Zushi? Make sure Gon doesn't jump the gun and leave before we can come up with something. Can you do that for me?”

Killua’s mind flashed to one- no, two sellers they had passed by on the way to the library. He’d never done something like this before, but despretate times-

He turned to Leorio, giving him a single nod.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

BiBi-Chan once again <3

Chapter Text

Panic had never been something Killua had felt before. Usually he could maintain levels of calm even in the most rushed of moments, the most drastic. Bloody battles, the screams of men, even his own life threatened by the flash of another’s weapon or a strike to his own body - not much could cause him to lose the cool calm he usually felt when faced with the world and its hardships. 

Nothing in the world had prepared him for the wave of emotions pressing at his head and lungs, his heart both hammering fast but feeling too slow, sluggish. Even as he had bled out on a battlefield, left alone to die by his remaining comrades, the pain of knowing his brother-in-arms had wanted him to die for his imagined betrayal - all of that was nothing. Nothing compared to the sweet, agonizing pain he had caused himself by betraying the one person who may mean more to him than anything else in the world.

Even if what Killua had done had been for Gon’s own sake, for Gon to stay safe from the creature’s reach, to stay safe by Killua’s own hand, he would bear this pain for the rest of his life if he could see Gon smile at him the same way he had in his room, if he could hold him again. 

Gods did he just want to hold him. To fall into his arms and never move. To simply be held and hold and breathe-

Taking a gulp of air and biting back the bile rising in his throat, Killua returned to the library, closing the door to the back room behind him.

Retz looked up from the scroll in her hands, eyebrow raised. “Gon’s not with you?”

Leaning back into the door, trying to stay composed, Killua shook his head.

She leaned closer, frowning now. “You’re telling me...he stayed put?” Others also turned to him.

He felt the sharpness of their stares, the crushing weight of the words on his tongue. “I...tried to, um, talk to him but…I knew it...wouldn't work. So I slipped him a sedative.”

Retz’s scroll slipped in her fingers, but she caught it, staring at Killua. “I beg your pardon?”

“I- got him some apples and I slipped a sedative in one.”

Leorio sat straighter against the wall, scoffing, arms folding over his chest. “There's no way.”

“What are you- he ate it, and he fell asleep. I made sure before I came back. Did you guys find out anything?”

Leorio blinked slowly. “Killua, Gon can tell a day prior when food will spoil. He can taste any medicine I've tried to slip him when he’s too stubborn to take it, from colds to sleeping drafts to simple nutrition aids. You're trying to tell us he took the apple you gave him and he ate it, and he didn't notice?”

Killua’s mind reeled, trying to recall if Gon had eaten from the right spot. He had been sure to inject the apple, even going so far as to coat half of the apple. Killua had been sure to eat around the spot, but-

“Well it doesn't matter, he’s asleep now and I locked the bedroom door. Please tell me you have something?” He then looked around the room. “Where’s Knuckle? And Shoot?”

“They’ve also gone back to their rooms. They wanted a private moment together.” Dr Morel took a long drag from his pipe. “We were discussing one thing... The book. The book of the dead. Do you have it?”

Killua scowled but didn’t respond.

Dr Morel continued, “We're near certain the other book will be hiding in the obelisk. But what if the spell we need is in the first book? If you bring it here, we can decide-”

“You looked at the book, didn’t you?” Killua cut in, turning to Retz. “Do you think there is a spell there?”

“Based on what we know, their rituals were very type based. Having two different books to honor two different types of rituals would be best,” she said flatly, recited like. “But it would be good to get an opinion on what is in it.”

Killua sneered. “The book isn't- It's at Gon’s place, I don't want to… wake him. I’d rather we think of something else, and sooner than that.” He bit his lip, blinking hard. “There's only a few more hours left. We have to think of something else.”

~

When he heard the door shut, he opened his eyes, sighing. The initial anger simmered deep down, in combination of some distant voice telling him Killua didn't trust him, Killua didn't believe in him, Killua didn’t-

Gon knew better though. 

Killua didn't believe in himself . That's who he didn't trust. Gon saw it in every line of his face whenever he spoke of feelings, of people he had once cared for, even when he spoke to Gon, odd moments where his eyes show a pain that was all Killua’s, that he thought it was his doing and his deserving punishment. 

Didn't mean Gon wasn’t furious with him. 

He stretched, slowly, his limbs suffering from just a hint of a quiver, leftover from their activities together. As much as Gon wanted to daydream about the two of them in his bed, the time for fun was done and over with. 

Gon rolled off the bed, his bare skin noticing the chill that was creeping in as the sun lowered. Time was running out. He had to stay focused, finding out what to do when the mummy took him. As much as he'd love to not have to go with the disgusting thing, there wasn't much of a better option. 

Either go with the mummy and stall the ritual, or hide and then everyone in the city would die anyways. 

Easy choice.

The look on Killua’s face when Gon had shoved him, or when Killua had said he had to go, leaving Gon in bed alone, floated to the forefront of Gon’s mind as he glanced at the half eaten apple. He picked it up, giving it an experimental sniff. Definitely passionflower, just like he had thought earlier. Good thing Killua didn't know they were ineffective on Gon, much to his Aunt Mito’s chagrin. 

A sick toddler that passionflower - a locally growing sedative in his home town - did not work on had been an interesting development for the Freecss family. 

He chucked the apple into the corner, watching it break and splatter against the wall and floor. 

He was angry at Killua for that. 

Slipping his trousers and shirt back on, he took his dirtied glasses off the nightstand. As he cleaned them in the bathroom, his mind kept drifting to Killua. His voice-

He had to stop. 

If he really was going to get this to work, he had to keep his resolve sturdy. 

The mere thought of being in the presence of the creature caused Gon to shake, fingers almost dropping his glasses into the wash bin. 

But getting to see the ritual to raise the dead up close-

Gon dried his glasses and returned them to his nose-

Killua’s flushed face, bruise marks on his pale skin-

He’d understand, later, after Gon made it back to him safe. And he wasn't acting much better about the situation, if the apple was any indicator. Across the room he found Killua’s duffle and dug the book of the dead out, as well as a small worn dagger, one small enough that he could hide it in his belt against his skin. 

He’d return it to Killua after this. He would.

Back at his desk, he went over what notes he’d been working on earlier.

Book in his lap, pen in the other, he hurriedly went through the book, finding key words and phrases, marking where certain depictions were. If he could figure out something before hand-

He heard a creak behind him, where the window was. 

Gon dumped the book to the ground, rolling away to the furthest point from the window. When he spun around, he noticed it wasn’t a monster, but instead Zushi.

“So much for midnight. You must like climbing tall things.”

Rather than respond, Zushi pursed his lips, glancing about. His eyes lingered on the bed then back to Gon. “You’re not his usual taste. I’m surprised Killua’s going through so much effort.”

“Effort on his part, or mine?”

Zushi blinked at that. “I didn't come here to start a fight, my apologies. I came to give you a warning. If you don't meet the magician on your own terms, or ours, I will kill Killua myself.” 

Gon went dizzy at the lack of emotion in his tone. How could someone sound so dead about another person? Especially one that cared as much as Killua? Gon snorted. “You won't touch him. Even if I didn't agree with you, Killua won't let you get another strike in. Why pretend to give us time anyways?You clearly don't actually play to give us until midnight.”

Zushi simply nodded. “Perhaps. Perhaps not. The Magician… Enjoys seeing his prey scramble. He's been watching you all this whole time. However, if you don't come with us, then you're no good to me alive. Who's to say I don't kill you now?”

Gon made a face, then leaned back, pulling at an earlobe. “Your magician seems to have a type. I fit that one, out of anyone else. I doubt my death would please him much, even if I do put up a fight. You’d be better off to just abduct me.”

“Abduct?”

“Well I clearly don't want to go with you willingly-”

In a flash, Zushi was in front of him, gripping Gon's arm, and spinning, wrenching his arm up. “Yeah. I’m not one for subtlety. Grab the book with your other hand, yes, exactly. Let’s go.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

BiBi-Chan~~

Chapter Text

Zushi kicked the bedroom door down when he found it was locked, then dragged Gon down the steps behind him, arm still twisted behind his back. The leverage caused Gon to stumble out of his own home, and then faced with the unpleasant image of the mummy.

The creature was still nothing more than aged brown skin and dirtied bandages, its eyes the most disconcerting, the most whole and alive looking feature about it. The skin stretched, pulling taunt against the tendons in its face up, as if grinning, mouth turning upwards at the corners, chin tilting up. It said… something, indiscernible to Gon’s ears in its garbled voice, less audible than it had been in the tomb.

But Zushi moved, shoving Gon forward, twisting his arm just a bit more. “Hand him the book.”

“How is it you can understand it?” Gon needles. “Its vocal cords are dried to nothing, and it only knows an ancient language that hadn't been spoken in a millenia at the least .”

“The magician gave me a token, so I could understand him. The token was to prove my loyalty, and his part of the bargain, as well as allow me to better assist him.”

Gon tried to turn, look over the other man, but he gave another cruel twist of his arm, straining his shoulder in its socket. He had to bite his tongue to keep from making a sound. He wouldn't give the traitor that kind of satisfaction. 

Zushi’s grip tightened on his wrist. “Hand over the book. Now.” 

Gon held it out in his free hand.

The creature grabbed the book, then with its other bony hand, grabbed Gon’s wrist, pulling him closer. Zushi let go, his face blank, as the mummy leaned down next to Gon’s face. “ Chrollo~” it murmured, though it sounded more like insects scuttling over one another, making Gon’s skin crawl. He tried wrenching his hand from its hold, but it didn't even budge as it resumed grinning, thin and impossible. 

Keeping its hold on Gon’s wrist, it turned back to the book, flipping it open with a word. The book moved on its own, pages turning over, until it rested on the second to last page. 

Gon cursed, knowing what it was doing. It was a locating spell for whatever the creature desired. It could use it for finding its other body parts. Its vital organs. Even if the Americans had hidden it, from what he remembered of reading that passage, the creature would only need one or two things for it to know exactly where they were.

Only one or two human organs.

“No-” Gon turned to Zushi, pleading, “you can't, it’ll kill people, there's no way-”

It was then that Gon noticed the suddenly oppressive feeling of being smothered, a pressure at his skin and skull that had him going still, like a prey animal hiding from a hawk. Gon saw Zushi’s face was cold and shadowed as he said, “No one has the right to tell me what to do.” The murderous aura wavered as he blinked, eyes flickering to the creature. “No one besides the magician.” 

~

While discussing a possible plan involving Leorio distracting the mummy with alternative health remedies — “it's foolproof, he seems like the kind of guy that misses talking, and this could be used to revive his skin and vocal cords.” “Only you would buy into that, Leorio” —  they were interrupted by laughter. Killua recognized it, and the overwhelming pressure that fell around them. The sound was something scratchy, manic, and cruel, the horrible noise echoing about the room, causing Retz and Leorio to flinch and attempt to cover their ears. When it stopped, everyone breathing heavy and shakily, the same voice called out, “ Doctor~” in a sickening tone, again echoing about in the room and their heads.

This time almost everyone attempted to cover their ears, flinching. Kurapika was the only one to look up, charging for the bookcase ladder and climbing it, flinging themselves to the window. Leaning out, they called back into the room, “The creature! It’s outside! It has-”

Before they could finish, Killua and Dr. Morel ran out of the room, through the rows of shelving and low lit candles, stumbling down the stairs and into the street. 

Zushi stood, Knuckle and Shoot crumpled at his feet, and Gon beside him. Next to Gon was the creature.

It seemed to be smiling, face still partially covered in dirty linens and skin peeling, dried tendons in its face working and moving under the bandages. One arm was extended out, hand wrapped around Gon’s shoulders. 

Killua lunged forward-

“I wouldn’t if I were you,” Zushi taunted, bringing one hand up, the blade flashing against Gon’s throat. Killua froze. “Of all the people you eventually had to fall for,” Zushi drawled. “It had to be the handsome scholar that the Magician chose.”

“Gon?” Killua called out tentatively. If they had hurt him-

“I’m sorry, Killua.” Gon gave him a sheepish grin, then grimaced, nostrils flaring, leaning away from the mummy. “I told you it was a good plan.”

“Idiot!”

“Enough,” Zushi cut in, rolling his eyes. “The magician requires the doctor to complete his ritual. Hand him over.”

“Why would I do that?” Dr Morel said, attempting to sound stern, though his voice wavered.

“If you do not,” the creature rasped, vocal cords vibrating in its throat, “I will destroy the entire city.”

“Why do you need them?” Retz shrieked. “Wouldn't anyone do for this kind of ritual?”

“The magician is aware of your plan to thwart him,” Zushi explained. “I advised him it would be best to break up your party.” His stony face broke for just a moment. “He requires live sacrifices to raise the dead.”

“Sacrifices?” Killlua lunged, but Leorio and Kurapika grabbed his shoulders. “You’re bringing back multiple people? Is that the deal, Zushi? You get to bring back Wing at the cost of another’s life?”

“Two, actually,” the mummy interrupted, dragging one bony finger across Gon’s jaw.

Gon visibly shivered, and Killua almost lost it, the scream bubbling in the back of his throat, but- “Do you really think Wing will accept this? Being brought back to life at the expense of others? He never would have approved! Even that day on the field, you know what his orders were!”

Zushi’s face flushed bright red at the wave of rage shown in his eyes. He snapped his head forward, spittle flying, “Lies! He’d never-” but then he recovered, huffing out a quick breath. “Doctor, if you don't come with us, I will take someone else. Will you have that on your conscience?”

Kurapika and Leorio’s grip tightened on Killua’s shirt as the doctor strode forward. “Doctor, no!”

Rather than respond, he simply raised one finger to his temple, tapped it twice, then put it to his lips in a hushed tone.

Killua understood, and hated it.

We still have a plan.

They had discussed the parts and pieces that would be involved in the ritual, the amount of time for each resurrection, and the likely components. First, the creature would need something of the soul it wanted to revive. The more attached the soul was to it, the better. Next, it would need sufficient materials to enact the spell. Theoretical ingredients included origanum, sambucus adoxaceae, lamiaceae, and allium sativum. None of which would be easy in this area.

Then, it needed the soul to give away in exchange. The fresher body. 

Gon.

Killua shook where he stood, eyes bright and feverish. Gon was still watching him, a soft smile on his lips, the street lights glancing off his glasses. 

Killua almost missed the mischievous glint in his eyes.

He bit his lip to keep from grinning back. If Gon had a plan to delay the creature, to keep himself alive, Killua had to trust him. 

He had no other choice.

“Zushi!” Killua shook off Leorio’s hold, reaching for his holster, leveling his revolver at him. Down his line of sight he aimed for his head. “The next time I see you, you will die. I'll be sure to kill you properly this time.”

“Sure, Killua,” the man drawled, face bored. He moved his free arm, flicking his hand, a stick of dynamite twirling in the air, sparks flying from the wick.

“Shi-DUCK!”

Everyone dove as far away from the stick as possible, the ricochet of the blast causing their ears to echo and throb. 

Eyes flickering, Killua rolled, looking past the new crater and where Gon had been standing, only to see the space empty besides rubble and dust.

Chapter Text

“Killua where are you going ,” Retz said, whimpering as she jogged behind him in her heeled shoes. “Leorio and Kurapika-” 

“I need to see an old friend.”

She had been following behind quietly, for the most part. After their group had determined that no one was hurt in the explosion, most of those in Kurapika’s band had started on the damage control, cleaning up as well as discussing how to advise the city to ready for a potential disaster. 

Killua had run back to Gon’s home, feeling sick at the sight of the broken doors, the still mussed bed, the apples on the ground. He then grabbed what he could from his duffle and transferred it into a smaller pack: a few extra rounds of bullets, a few knives, two handfuls of dynamite, and then attaching his rapier back to his hip. Storming back to the library with both bags, he had dropped off the remainder of his larger duffle for others to use.

Against what, he hadn't been sure.

With some quick words to Leorio, he explained he may have a plan, but he would need some time. Retz had seemingly followed him from there, barely keeping up and fighting tears and shakily breathing past sobs.

She scoffed at his quick response. “And this friend lives here?”

‘Here’ was the warehouse district on the edge of the city just between the river and desert. It suited his friends' needs perfectly, no trees or brambles ever grew too high that he needed to expend the effort to clear them, and the view was always the first to to see any type of storms that brewed in the distance.

“We need a way to get to the desert fast. We need to beat the monster and make it to the obelisk before it can stop us- Hey! ” He stopped at the door, knocking twice, loudly. “Ikalgo! Where are you, get out here! I know you’re home!”

Killua continued to bang on the door and call out until he finally heard the response of, “Zoldyck I swear if I didn't owe you for my life, I’d shoot you-” The door swung open to reveal a broad shouldered black man, head reaching just past Killua’s shoulders, braided hair pulled back into a horse tie, dressed in only slacks that were barely being held up on his slim hips. He scowled up at Killua before his eyes shifted to his left. “Weren’t you arrested. And who’s the lady. She’s not your usual type.”

Retz scoffed, suddenly seeming ladylike, and Killua knew it was completely an act for Ikalgo’s sake. “Type, Zoldyck?”

Ignoring her, Killua drawled, “Ikalgo, get dressed, I need you to fly us.” glancing over his shoulder, he finished with, “Retz, shut up.”

Less ladylike, she screeched “Don't you dare-”

“Killua,” Ikalgo interrupted, “I love you, it's the middle of the night, or nears about. I was in bed. I was sleeping. Why the hell-”

“You remember Hamanaptra? That curse floating around?”

Ikalgo rolled his eyes before returning a very dry look to the paler man. “Barely.”

“Well it happened.”

There was a very long pause. Retz was holding her breath while Ikalgo simply blinked, long and slow. 

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”

~

High in the air, Ikalgo gestured with one hand, Killua making out the signs for Book? Truth?

He gave an exaggerated sigh, drooping his shoulders and throwing his head back before nodding, eyes closed. Taking a quick glance around, squinting despite the goggles on his face protecting his eyes from the winds and sands, he made sure there were no supernatural attacks on their flanks or horizons. 

Once he was certain he could take his hands off the machine gun attached to the plane, he followed up Ikalgo’s question with both hands, making sure his friend could see them in the mirror. Yes, magic book, mummy, was dead now alive, my- Killua paused, unsure of the word to use for Gon . His friend? His lover? His heart? Damsel in distress?

Ikalgo made a gesture for Killua to get on with it, scowling under his hat. How the man managed such feats in his aircraft without wearing something over his eyes, Killua would never understand.

Maybe it was his longer lashes.

Killua settled for a stumbling gesture of kidnapped , then continued his tale with must stop, stop deaths of many.

The use of the ‘kidnapped’ for Gon caused another wave of fear to grip Killua. Not only was Gon more than just a ‘friend’ who was ‘kidnapped,’ it also reminded him of just how much he would lose if they didn't get to them in time.

If Killua didn't get to Gon in time. 

Feeling flustered and turning away from the raised eyebrow in the mirror, Killua waved frantically in the winds, trying to get Leorio’s, then Kurapika’s, attention. He mimed something about doing alright, and both of the other passengers returned a very rude, very identical, gesture to him. 

In other circumstances he would have laughed, remembering Gon and Retz’s exchange of ‘I just thought they were married.’

The odd pair were strapped to the lower wings of the plane, one on either side, cloaks billowing but never seeming to loosen nor strangle the wearer. They both had secured the cloths over most of their face for protection.

Feeling more sure of himself for the moment, the terror tucked back in his mind, Killua signed to Ikalgo in the pilot seat in front of him How much further?

Any minute.

Lowering to land?

Can't.

Taken aback, Killua gripped the edges of his pocket seat, lunging up next to Ikalgo’s ear, “What the fuck do you mean you can’t land?!”

Ikalgo shrugged, the look on his face telling Killua both ‘ can't hear you’ and ‘ you heard me.’

“Fuck- shit-” Killua sank back, running a hand through his hair, pulling on it to ground himself a bit with the pain. It was sand. It was soft. It's not like ikalgo could fly four or five additional people out anyways. Killua then quickly gestured for the other two to start unstrapping themselves. Leorio looked aghast while Kurapika scowled. 

Killua glanced about, seeing the city appear on the horizon. Ikalgo maneuvered some levers until the plane was low to the ground, flying as slowly as he could. He watched Leorio give him the rude gesture again before sliding back and off the wing. Kurapika followed suit with less aggressiveness at Killua, black blobs that shrunk then disappeared into clouds of sand. Killua slid the goggles off, chucking them under his seat and throwing his pack onto his shoulders, rapier balancing and bumping oddly. He then rested a hand on Ikalgo’s shoulder, receiving a hand pat -in reassurance or gratitude- before he maneuvered outside of his seat, gripping the edges and eyeing the propellers that were now just above him. He took a breath, dangling for a moment, then dropping.

Killua had fallen further than this. He had dropped into mountain rivers and lakes from greater heights. But the moment, however long or brief, of being in the air, nothing touching him, the steady rush of air past his ears as he forgot, just for a moment, the ache in his heart and the whisper of doubt in his mind.

He landed, knees bent, folding into the force of meeting the sands below. The unsteady ground caused his feet to ache, and his pack of weapons and supplies hit his back and hip in a way that would bruise later, but otherwise it had been a solid landing.

Killua felt grit land on his arms and neck, then heard the approach of feet in the sand. He glanced over his shoulder to see Kurapika approach, face stern, hood pulled over their face to better shield their skin. Leorio was jumping and grumbling about a hard landing on his ass, but quickly quieted when Kurapika said his name. 

“Are you ready?” They asked, glancing at Killua before turning their gaze to the city.

Killua stood, brushing off his pants as he said, “As much as anyone can be to hunt for a spellbook and fight off an immortal mummy.” His gaze turned to the single obelisk, a dagger piercing the edge of the city. His eyes followed the line down, wondering how deep the structure really went. “There’s no other way?” he mused, knowing the answer already.

“Nothing else that seems plausible. Now let’s go.”

The shorter figure walked ahead, pace fast even in the sand. Leorio followed behind, long legs carrying him to Kurapika’s back left. Killua stayed to the right, a few paces behind, the afternoon sun turning the sky to a harsh yellow tinged with orange.

~~~~~~~~

Heres a commission of Retz! I wanted her appearance to be similar to Evy's, but more of a lean to....snobbery, or princess. 

Art by the charming ughtenal!
https://www.instagram.com/ughtenal/

Chapter Text

Gon awoke to the sound of shuffling and murmuring. Despite the headache blooming behind his eyes, he did his best to keep still. Getting knocked out hadn’t been part of his initial plan but certainly helped from him having to deal with the stench of the mummy’s rotting corpse. 

Gon had been too tempted to needle the ex soldier, especially after the exchange he had had with Killua.

Eyes closed, he took note of his condition. He was stretched out flat on some kind of stone- the natural coolness was too familiar from jumping into caves and over rivers as a child. His shoulder hurt from when Zushi had twisted his arm behind his back; it especially hurt now that it was raised above his head - he could feel both his wrists had been put into shackles. Thankfully his feet weren’t shackled, but that could only get him so far. Unfortunately, laying flat like this, his ass hurt from when Killua-

No. He couldn't think about that. The annoyance of Killua trying to drug him and keep him back, keep him from helping everyone, was still iron hot in his gut, but the rest of their time-

Focus, Freecss. 

Were the shackles rusted? Could he break them? Just one link would get him loose, and he could run away, into the tomb, try and put the ritual to a halt until he was caught again.

How long had he been out? It had taken a day… a day and a half to make it to Hamunaptra with the ferry, but the monster had… used some kind of power, creating a storm of winds and sands, something that carried them across the desert. He guessed it was about mid afternoon, but it was just a gut feeling. He had always been good at guessing the time of day, even after being lost in a book in the middle of a library for hours on end. 

Was anyone near him? The creature? Zushi? What about Knuckle, Shoot, or Dr Morel? Would they make noise if he left them? The creature clearly wanted him for the ritual. If he could stall it in any way, he’s sure they’d understand. 

But if the creature started the other ritual-

“Freecss!”

Gon did his best to not flinch at the voice. He breathed out slowly, barely opening his eyes, looking about through his lashes. He kept his breath even, slow. He could play off sleeping for a short while longer, but not by much.

The ceiling was tall, taller than any other part of the tomb they had explored. He bit back a curse. The chances of the others finding him would be more difficult than he thought. He lolled his head to the right side, letting out a low hum, as if he were dreaming something. Something pleasant.

Soft pale skin, so sweet-

A stairway cut into the stone? Curling with the...cave. He was in a cave. The walls were too rough compared to the carved stone they had walked through. How deep underground was this?

His eyes trailed lower, looking across the ground, seeing pits of… pink? Was that water turned pink by a type of mineral? Which… magnesium. Magnesium was pink. It was what colored rocks and crystals. Had magnesium been a common mineral found in these parts?

“How hard did that man hit him? I know the kid was needling him but did he really-”

“Mm?” Gon hummed, head lolling back, then wincing. He had found the growing knot in the back of his head. As he blinked his eyes open, he startled, seeing a face wrapped in dirtied linens, yellowed teeth showing in an eternal gasp for breath, matted hair creeping over pointed shoulders and twisted arms reaching out-

“Hey, kid, calm down, it's actually dead,” Knuckle assured him.

“For now,” Dr Morel snarked. The other three were tied to several individual pillars. Knuckle was the only one facing him, the other two were several feet apart and turned in opposite directions. The rope around their waists also pulled each of their hands off to the sides, palm out. 

“Gods, they hog tied you lot pretty well. Can you even breath?”

“Barely,” Shoot snarked, one eye turned towards Gon, swiveling in an attempt to see Knuckle. 

“Can you tell him I’m fine?” Knuckle murmured. He didn't look fine, to Gon’s eyes. A cut on his lip had a line of blood dripping down to his chin, one eye was swollen closed, and a bruise was forming on his cheek. “I swear I am, I look worse than I do.”

“He went to check on you after Zushi knocked you out,” the doctor called out. “That thing took one swing at him and he went flying.”

“Just- tell him , please,” Knuckle pleaded, twisting his wrists in the rope.

“He’s- he’s just banged up,” Gon replied dully. 

“You're a terrible liar,” Shoot drawled.

“We’ll all be fine soon.” Gon fidgeted, still feeling the dagger on his hip. He dragged himself as far up to his chained arms as he could, looking about. “I’m guessing it's about midday? Where is the creature, and Zushi?”

“They've run off, looking for ingredients. They've only been gone about… just a few hours. I'm not sure how much longer they'll be gone.”

“Okay, I don't need much time. No one look, I don't...if this doesn't work, I don't want you to know what it was.”

“I told you the kid wouldn't wait for the Zoldyck.”

Gon shimmied, trying to slide the dagger from out of his trousers. He’d tried so hard to keep Zushi’s eyes away from the weapon, instead needling him, keeping his angry eyes either on his face and hands or on the creature. It had mostly worked, but then the creature had probably been the one to hold and carry him here. Gon grimaced as he realized that, feeling one edge of the blade get too close to his skin. If he cut himself it would hurt, but he could likely keep a blood trail from leading to him…

He heard it clank against the stone, and Knuckle’s head swiveled towards him then away. “Hurry up, whatever you're doing…”

Gon did not respond, instead shimmying down again, hoping he could lift it up enough to grab it in his teeth-

Sliding it up twice more, he finally could nudge it with his nose, gripping the hilt in his teeth. He slid back up, grabbing the blade with his finger, spinning it and wedging it into the most worn looking link. 

Would he actually be able to run?

Twisting the blade, the link creaked, but didn’t budge. Gon adjusted it, the link breaking open, a chip falling to the ground.

Everyone took in a breath, waiting.

The only thing to be heard was the lit torches crackling and Knuckle’s labored breathing, a small whistle from his nose.

After two beats, Gon moved the blade over to a link in the other chain, trying to find a similarly rusted out spot. Not seeing one, feeling the sense of time ticking away the longer he fussed, he instead tried the half link attached to his actual cuff, praying that the weld was too old to be properly fused-

The blade dug into his palm just as the metal gave, a bad cut that dug and sliced, and Gon bit back a curse. Pulling his arms back down, carefully, from above his head, his shoulders twitched and rolled in a way that made Gon dizzy for a moment. 

The cuffs on his wrist were heavy, pure iron and ancient, but they weren't attached together, or anchored on a ceremonial altar anymore either. He used the blade to cut a strip of fabric from his shirt, the cold air in the tomb making his shiver as he moved about freely. 

Hand wrapped, he stood, assessing his body: the shoulder hurt terribly, his hand stung, the knot at the back of his head throbbed, and the cut on his hip was mild enough to not bleed anymore. But otherwise he was feeling pretty good, for being first on the list of human sacrifices.

Knuckle and Shoot eyed him, eyes bright. 

Gon looked at them all guiltily. He didn't have enough time to cut their ropes and make a run for it without the mummy finding them, he knew that much in his gut. It made him sick to have to leave everyone, but the odds of them all surviving this were so slim-

He had to go. This was their best chance.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured to them before turning and running down a corridor.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Technically we only see Ikalgo in Ch 20 but!! i got this gorgeous art after i posted it so *tada*

Once again, this is from the lovely sweet.x.frog!

https://www.instagram.com/sweet.x.frog/

Chapter Text

Kurapika seemed to know the tomb much more than they had initially let on. Killua and Leorio followed wordlessly as they were led through the hole in the corner that the Americans had blown open, then winding around, passing the hole in the floor with a slower pace, each of them eyeing it with mixed emotions.

But rather than turn into the same rooms that had been fought for days prior, they leaned into one wall, pressing along odd shaped stones and then cursing when nothing happened.

“What are you-” But Killua stopped himself. “A trap door?”

“It’s more like a secret entrance… the knowledge has been passed down among the leaders of the order, in the hopes no one would make it to here. If they did, we would know and be able to ki- divert them sooner.”

Killua crossed his arms, raising an eyebrow at the other man. “Kill a lot of folks, have you?” Killua knew the arms and hands of killers as well as his own. Muscles trained for years to deliver enough force to kill but to be swift enough to defend in the same motion. Kurapika's blade was the more obvious clue.

Leorio spun on him, shoving a forearm into his throat, backing him into the wall. “You don’t get to judge us.”

Killua fidgeted until there was less pressure on his windpipe. “You talk big but you're not a killer. There's only two of us in this room, Doc.”

“Let him go, Leorio,” Kurapika sighed. “We’ve always done what we must. I’ll admit, blood has been shed by my hands, as I swore to do. When I was younger, learning the ways, yes, the Order killed more than was truly necessary. Making it this far would be a death sentence. But since I've taken over, and listened to the advice of… others,” a heavy glance was exchanged between the blonde and the brunet, “killing has been less of a needed act and more the last ditch effort.”

Once Kurapika had finished speaking, Leorio stepped away, sending a narrow eyed glare at Killua over his dark tinted glasses. 

Killua bit his tongue, holding back the question to ask if bad eyesight was common in their family. But asking that seemed too carefree of a question, making a hope in Killua’s chest bubble to the surface. 

Kurapika stared tiredly at them, then knocked their palm into the wall, sending a cloud of dust up as one panel moved sluggishly, stuck from thousands of years of grime and sand.

“I hope no one heard that....” Killua drawled. He glanced down the tunnel, same as Leorio. “We’ll need a light, or something.”

Leorio stepped in, tapping his hand along the wall, then made a satisfied sound. From the darkness, his arm stretched, holding a torch. 

Striking flint, it lit, black smoke, caused by burned cobwebs, puffing up before it burned bright and cleanly. 

The new corridor slanted downwards, steeper than Killua had anticipated. Was the city much deeper? How deep? 

Killua imagined Gon and Retz arguing behind him, coming up with estimates and numbers that only made sense to them. Talking about how it was done or how long it took.

He suddenly missed them both terribly.

Ahead, they could barely make out the flattening angle, a solid floor. Something glittered along the edges, causing the group to slow, walking more quietly in unison. But once the corridor ended, the torch illuminating the next room, they all froze.

Leorio sucked in a deep breath. Killua choked. Kurapika sighed heavily.

Taller than any building in the desert town, ceiling so high they could not see the ceiling, piles and piles of gold, silver, brass, copper, lapis, and jet treasures lay before them. 

Leorio started to walk forward, arms outstretched.

Kurapika yanked on his cloak, grabbing it in the right spot that the man choked, reeling back. 

“This is sacred , Leorio.”

“They’re dead , Kurapika. No one is missing this. Wait, everyone is missing this. This is history! It’s craftsmanship that hasn't been seen in-”

“You’re just trying to sound like your brother so you can grab some treasure to pawn off.”

“Well I can't say you’re wrong…”

“You sound like you're selling a scam,” Killua drawled. “While Gon would-” He could clearly see Gon squatting next to the treasure, jotting down notes and telling Killua odd facts about anything he noticed. “Gon would tell us to keep focused. Come on, we have a book to find.” He shoved forward, head tipped down, bangs covering the sorrow he felt shine in his eyes. 

Every second they spent arguing was time wasted to get back to Gon before he was sacrificed in some-

Killua breathed slowly through his nose. Gon was clever. He had a plan. Killua remembered the glint in his eyes as the creature had held his throat. Gon would make time they could use to get everyone back safely. 

Killua made his way past the towers of glistening antiques, finding other torches to light along the way. Rats skittered and scurried, chittering at the strangers, their agitation making larger noises as jewels toppled and tumbled to the ground, causing the group to reach for their weapons several times as they trekked slowly. 

At several moments, Killua felt that the echoing footsteps and their own breath was suffocating, closing in on them. His eyes flickered about, feeling as if the gold was moving in, closer to him, but the only dust distrubed was from their own feet.

All the talk of mummies and magic was getting to him, that was a certainty. 

At last, in one corner of the room, Killua finally spotted a speck of light that was not a reflection. He gestured with his torch to the other two, and kurapika nodded, taking the lead. 

The light was thin and orange, barely a glow in the narrow, steep staircase. The whole thing was carved into the wall, more similar to a ladder. Far far ahead, a square of orange sunlight shown. Kurapika started up the staircase, pace steady and quick.

It reminded Killua of a fast paced march, Kurapika in the lead, Leorio behind by several steps, then Killua, also a few steps behind. The air was stale, the only dust disturbed was by their own breaths and movements, feet setting up tiny clouds in their wake. The walls were narrow, only one person could step up with barely enough room to move their arms. Killua’s rapier clanked an odd time or three on his hip. Each time it happened he earned a glare from his comrades, and Killua hoped it wasn't the sound to ruin their mission. 

At last, the sunlight held heat. They paused, breathing in the fresh air and light, the last look they would get until after….

After whatever it was that may come. 

Stepping onto the roof, they glanced about, near a place on the upper most roof, towards the northwest. 

The obelisk still towered over them. They had only gained another twenty or thirty feet in the air, but at the edge of their roof, Kilua could now make out small indents in the side of the tower. 

“Are those… footholds?” Leorio murmured just to Killua’s right. “They go up, almost to the top. It must be to the book. Do you think….maybe they expected this?”

“I highly doubt that,” Kurapika sighed. 

“Well, expected or not-” Leorio tossed off his cloak, then sprinted, jumping the small empty space between the roof and obelisk, one foot fitting snugly into the indent. “I can’t keep waiting around, Gon needs us. He needs that damn book-” he started to climb, far more sure-footed than Killua had thought he would be. The higher up he goes though, the more he slows. Killua can barely hear him murmur “these are getting smaller…”

He stumbled once, twice, scraping his feet across the surface as he hunched his shoulders up, fingertips the only thing holding him up. Killua even heard Kurapika gasp, turning away. 

He stopped altogether about two thirds of the way up. He fumbled with one square, a shoe seeming to hover on the edge of the rock and the other dangled, swinging back and forth to keep him as close to the tower as he could. 

The slab he had been fumbling around finally got loose, sliding down and tumbling in the air until it went beyond Killua’s sight, down to the desert floor. Looking back up, it seems he had lost his foot hold, and his free hand was gone, fumbling into a small square space he had opened in the obelisk. Killua can hear him cheer, and a flash of gold next to his hand.

It was then they all heard a familiar snap of a mechanism being triggered. 

Leorio froze, flinching the same as Killua and Kurapika. Hands not moving, he turned his head back, making eye contact with Kurapika. “I guess I am as reckless as Gon, huh?” He then lunges away, book in hand, as the obelisk crumbles, huge pieces of stone striking the ceiling, the very surface they were standing on. 

It doesn't hold.

Block after block falls, loosening and weakening the others beside it, the whole roof caving under, clouds of dust wafting in the air in large billows. 

Killua can no longer see Leorio.

Kurapika is frantic, screaming his name, stepping forward and the back in an attempt to reach and find the other man. One of the blocks splinters under their feet, and Killua throws himself forward, tackling them just in time to keep them from falling through. 

But Kurapika scrambles out of his hold, turning away and running for the other side of the roof. Killua follows behind, certain they know a way down, away.

He just hopes they make it in time.

He was tired of losing comrades.

Chapter Text

Killua was fast. Even the last week of leisurely and somewhat easy living couldn’t have slowed him; logically he knew that, but he felt sluggish compared to Kurapika’s wind-like speed as the blond navigated winding hallways, rubble, and staircases. Killua managed to just barely keep them in his sight, but only just. Three floors down he was relying on his hearing and the occasional flutter of a robe around a corner. 

Finally he found Kurapika chucking rubble and rocks over their shoulders, digging into a pile of stone that still crumbled and shifted as more blocks broke from above. 

Panting, scanning the area, he saw what Kurapika had seen: A dusty, broken pair of sunglasses.

Killua joined them, pulling from higher up so no great stones landed on Leorio’s exposed limbs. While he worked, he thought. Leorio seemed a decent fighter, even if he didn't have the same training as Killua and Kurapika. Even if he stayed back just to help the wounded get out while others fought, his loss in the upcoming battle would be felt. Even the lack of a medic seemed daunting to Killua. Most of them could die from blood loss if they didn't get treated swiftly enough-

At the same time Kurapika hefted a particularly large stone, Killua thought he heard… something. He froze, looking around. There, a cough. He gestured for Kurapika to stop, but they ignored him, continuing their digging. 

Rolling his eyes, Killua pushed his way between the rubble and the blond. Kurapika fought to get around him, preparing to use their fists, until they also heard another cough. It was coming from the other side of the pile.

Kurapika dove, scrambling over the rubble, sliding and panting. Killua followed at a slightly slower, more cautious pace. Once he made it over, he found Leorio, mostly unscathed, and on his stomach, several feet from the rubble. His right arm seemed to lay next to his side uselessly, the other gripping a golden book, and bent as if he had been crawling on it. Kurapika had taken his head in their hands, and was turning it one way then the other, scrutinizing. 

Killua caught- “If you have a single broken bone, I swear-”

“Can’t-” Leorio started to croak, then broke into a coughing fit.

“Did you breathe in too much dust?” Killua mused, concerned. 

But Leorio shook his head. “A rock,” he wheezed, “hit my windpipe. That and my leg, and-” he winced, attempting to move his right arm. “I don't think the arm is broken, but my leg certainly is. It's not so bad, considering,” he finished with a weary grin. 

“I can’t believe you're alive,” Kurapika said with just enough emotion to make Killua look away from the two. 

“Pure luck,” Leorio murmured back. “Just enough to make it out, but I think I'm out of this fight. Pika, Killua, you two need to take the book and go-”

“No,” Kurapika interrupted, running a thumb over the other man’s cheek. 

It was a bit too much for Killua. Should he leave? Could he manage without them?

Kurapika seemed to read his mind. They grabbed the book from Leorio’s hand and tossed it at Killua. 

“Take it–go, get this to Gon. You two need to work together to end the magician. Stop the apocalypse. I’ll help Leorio get to a point where he can travel. I’ll find you. Follow that corridor, and keep left whenever you come to a fork.”

Killua wanted to ask how, where; when would they find each other? But the words caught in his throat. If they didn't put a stop to this- to the ritual, to the end of the world- there would be no need to find each other. 

Not until they met in the afterlife. 

“Pika, no , you can't, this is-”

“Leorio,” the blond whispered, leaning into the doctor's face.

Killua had enough by then. He dug into his pack and slid a revolver Kurpika’s way, just in case. He still had his own with plenty of ammo. Turning to the hallway Kurapika had gestured at, he saw shadows dancing further down. 

Gritting his teeth, he dung into his pack again, this time for dynamite. He gave a shrill whistle at the two, chucking a stick at Kurapika, who caught it deftly. Killua jerked his head ahead of him, and Kurapika nodded in understanding. 

Killua then settled his pack, drew his rapier, and headed down the corridor in a swift jog. Leorio would need time to ready himself for travel, and - Killua hoped - blocking the doorway would give them enough time.

He would do everything he could to help Gon’s family. That would put a smile on his face- Killua could see it already, Leorio hobbling around, Kurapika just barely tall enough to hold the man up, and Gon, smile wide and bright-

Looking ahead, he saw the shadows again. They were faint, more of a wriggling mass than anything identifiable. He still had a ways to go before he would confront them, but the warming leather hilt in his hand was a comfort he needed in that moment. 

After going several yards down, he came to his first left. Just as he leaned around, looking for incoming enemies, the floor behind him shook violently. He swung around, only to see a cloud of dust billow his way.

“I guess Kurapika closed the door behind me,” he murmured. He hoped Gon or one of the Americans knew another way out, or that Kurapika found them before they got too lost. 

Lost in his thoughts, he almost missed the scrape of something hard further down the hallway. Rapier raised in a guard position, Killua turned the corner.

What he saw was confusing. It had no feet, moving through the air in a slithering, fluid motion, almost like it was swimming in the air.

His own words- ‘They mummified fish?!’ -echoed in his head as he realized what he was looking at. Sighing, Killua grumbled, “Fucking fish,” before charging, swinging his blade.

~~

Gon had been wandering, trying to remember and follow the map in his mind. His usually keen sense of direction was disoriented in the dark. He dared not light a torch as the occasional cracks in the ceiling no longer showed sunlight. Maybe a sand dune was blocking it, or a taller part of the tower. He hoped it wasn’t that so much time had passed that it was now dark… but it was truly impossible to tell. He wouldn't risk surfacing just to check. 

Since he had escaped, it had been several hours. Maybe only two, but maybe four. Nothing was worse than not seeing the sunlight; not hearing birds and wind passing by to help him tell what time of day it was. At some point he had stopped to wrap his hand better in a patch of sunlight- even then it was faint and dark- and one other time to catch his breath. Now his body was much more familiar with certain elevations in the floor, and the feeling of a rougher, more porous stone that was set to trigger what he only presumed were traps. His bare feet simply made sure to feel before he stepped into large empty corridors- Gon could only tell by the absence of walls around him.

His skin -past the thin shirt- could pick up the coolness of the walls by proximity. 

But the cold would only make him weaker as his night wore on. 

Pausing, he walked backwards until his heel caught a wall. Gon fell back and slid down, hugging his knees to try and bring back some warmth to his skin. With his back now pressed to the cold stone, his arms and shoulders rippled in goosebumps from the temperature change. A sweat drop he hadn't noticed crawled down his neck, making him shiver.

The other reason he hadn't stopped- hadn't taken a break from his steady jog-  was now he had time to think. To wonder about what happens if- too many what if’s and could be’s- if he doesn’t stay away for long enough. If he didn’t avoid capture, stopping the ritual before it's even started-

To think about the loud noise- it had to be an explosion. The crash had echoed in the chambers, the shudders felt in the floor and walls for too long to be anything else. Had that been Killua? With Kurapika and Leorio? Or had that been the creature, with Zushi, fighting them off? Were they dead now? Who would be dead?

Had all his efforts been for nothing? All this running? Leaving Knuckle, Shoot, and Dr. Morel in the ritual room? The ache in his shoulder, the whine in his lungs from the cold?

His body shuddered suddenly, the cold having seeped deep into his core, mixed with the fear of losing those he cared for.

Those he loved.

Gon sighed, and his cold throat rasped a bit more loudly than he would have liked.

He clamped a hand over his mouth. Holding his breath. Listening.

Had he heard an echo? Further down? Or was that ahead? Maybe it was just his sigh. 

Waiting, he counted in his mind.

One. If it was organic, living, it would have to move soon.

Two. Living things couldn't hold still for long without some kind of shift

Three. He was proof enough of that, heart pounding in his ears.

Four.  How deep would a noise echo here? He was lucky to have not made much sound before, but now, with fear creeping up his spine, even harmless shuffling of cloth seemed to be off, terrifying. 

Five. Gon frowned. Cloth? Down here? Or had he shifted and not noticed?

He didn't think it could be his own clothing making such a sound. And he had sacrificed his loose vest to cover the chains that still covered his wrists. 

The fluttering of rags came into his mind.

He shuddered again, not from the cold. 

Now he strained to hear, mouth still covered by his hand to prevent any sound. The soft sigh of his breath on his hand was loud to him, but he prayed to anything that would listen that it was quiet enough. 

But no, there- the soft drag of a clothed heel? Or was that sharp end in the noise actually bone hitting stone? Was that a footstep? How many had he been hearing and just presumed it was him in his own exhaustion? 

Another.

Shhh-thk.

A pause.

Gon's heart was pounding in his ears. His whole body shook with each beat. Swallowing a shallow breath and holding it, he thought hard to figure out where it was coming from; how far away it was. Could he outrun it? It was too dark for him to sprint safely. Could he crawl, shuffle out of there before the creature found him?

Shhh-thk.

Biting his lip, Gon cursed himself quietly. Had he found a branch from a larger hallway? The echo was somewhere on his right. He still couldn't tell if it was behind him or ahead. Glancing around, he couldn't even pretend to see a speck of light. He blinked to be sure, but it never changed. All he saw was darkness.

Shhh-thk.

How much closer was it? Had it gotten closer? Had it changed at all in the last few moments? Or had he mistaken the sound? Was it not the creature? He felt a panicked gasp bubble in his throat, catching on his tongue. He wanted to cry and laugh hysterically. He’d never been this terrified before.

Shhh-tchk.

Gon felt tears press at his eyes, trying to spill over, the pressure burning his face. His lungs were also burning. How long had he been holding his breath? Could he let it out? Or was his chest too tight, heart beating too quick? Could he keep it quiet?

Part of him wondered if he'd be able to control his lungs, his breath, or if he’d just sob outright, the panic building, his arms and fingers beginning to tremble-

Shhh-tck.

He froze. The sound was right next to him. Should he look? Would he be able to see the shadow of whatever was following him? Or would it be nothing more than the same nothing, the same darkness? He startled himself when a tear crawled down his face, the warmth shocking against his cold cheek. He almost let go of his breath.

Shhh-tck.

The sound was moving away from him. Behind him. Had it missed him? Only a few more steps and he'd be able to relax. Able to breathe. He had to hold it a bit longer.

More tears trickled down his face, dripping onto his sleeves, crawling down his neck. He had to hold it. He had to keep quiet. He had to stay still.

Shhh-

Gon's heart stopped. His eyes popped open. He didn't know when he had closed them, but now they were able to make out the glow of yellow in front of him.

“Heh.”

Gon gasped, dropping his hands to his sides and pushing himself back into the wall, scrambling into a standing position. The eyes followed him, slits narrowing, and Gon could only picture that terrible smile the creature gave him.

“You've run well so far, little boy. But the chase is done.”

The creature's terrible, rasping voice whispered along the walls, scratching at Gon’s ears.

Gon had to stop himself from gagging at the smell, his lungs stinging from the fresh air. He tried to right himself, get his feet under him to run, but a bone-like hand grabbed his forearm in a bruising hold.

Now the creature was pulling, dragging him along. Gon tried to stand his ground, to pull away, but each time his shoulder was in agony. It was either follow along to spare the pain, or fight and hurt himself more.

Gods did he want to scream. To cry and kick and punch like a small child. But somewhere in his mind he knew if he did that, it would either result in only hurting himself more, or in the magician doing something worse than grabbing him. 

Somehow, cutting through his panic, Gon remembered the goal. The creature had hunted him down, sure, but besides his shoulder and hand, he was mostly unscathed. And Killua, and Leorio and Kurapika, they were on their way, maybe even in the building. 

Maybe the explosion had been a diversion, and on their end, things were going to plan? Perhaps he and the creature would be approaching to find them, ready and waiting, book in hand.

He had done his part. Now it was a matter of the others finding him, before the ritual was completed. 

Chapter Text

The pain in his leg was terrible. Even if it was a simple fracture- Leorio guessed it was the smaller, non-weight bearing fibula- it still ached and throbbed in an annoying way. That plus the growing bruises from the rocks that had struck him in his fall-

Kurapika’s hand left his face, grabbing the book from his outstretched arm, tossing it at Killua.

“Take it–go, get this to Gon. You two need to work together to end the magician. Stop the apocalypse. I’ll help Leorio get to a point where he can travel. I’ll find you. Follow that corridor, and keep left whenever you come to a fork.”

Leorio caught the sigh of release in his throat before it could escape. As much as he loved the idea of Kurapika avoiding the battle, avoiding their almost certain death, he knew it might be one of the greater regrets of their life. Speaking around the bruise on his throat, he argued, “Pika, no , you can't, this is-”

Their hands returned to his face, thumbs stroking dirt and grime from his cheeks. “Leorio,” they murmured, leaning closer to his face. “I would regret losing you more than anything else in my life. I’ve known this for a while. I was just…always hoping this would-”

A shrill whistle cut the air, making Leorio and Kurapika flinch. Killua was tossing them something- Kurapika caught it deftly just as he slid a revolver their way also. Leorio acknowledged the first item as a stick of dynamite. He gazed at the revolver on the ground, having stopped near their feet. Leorio felt a more respectable part of him ready the words ‘Thank you’ to Killua, but the white haired brat simply jerked his head at the doorway he was passing through before vanishing past it. 

“He may be an emotional sort,” Kurapika mused, “but he certainly knows how to tidy up loose ends.” Their warm gray eyes appraised the explosive, then reached into a pocket in their robe. 

Leorio’s neck strained. He dropped his head into the blond’s lap, and began thinking of how to get himself out of there. 

His leg, while hurting, could technically still hold him upright. It would have to be used simply for balance, but it was doable. His shoulder… Kurapika could pop it back into place, once they were done fiddling with-

He heard the strike of a match, then felt Kurapika twist their body. “Incoming,” they murmured before curling their torso over Leorio’s head just as the room boomed again, shaking the floor. 

Once the tremors subsided, Kurapika uncurled, rolling Leorio onto his back. They studied Leorio’s disheveled state with concern written on their face, observing every visible injury with the intent to fix it.

Sadly, it wasn't the first time Leorio had hurt himself. Kurapika knew the starting procedure well enough, and would simply follow Leorio’s advice from that point on.

“My leg…I want you to feel along the outside, see if there's any noticeable deformities,” he began, speaking as clearly as he could. “I need to find out if it's a fracture or a clean break…I don't want to walk without a brace, but if it's fractured, it can handle a bit more torment.”

At Kurapika's sharp look his way, Leorio tried for a grin. “Unless you have casting material in that robe, or even two wooden poles thin enough for a brace, I'll have to walk without anything. Breaks can shift too much for how far we need to go. So?”

Pika’s hands deftly worked their way down Leorio’s left calf. Normally he would be ticklish at that kind of attention, but in that moment he was working to avoid crying as his bruises and bumps were prodded.

“I can't notice any sharp edges or the usual tells for a clean break,” Kurapika said in an overly calm voice. It was the one they used when they were feeling more emotional than they usually dared. 

As much as Leorio wanted to comfort them, remind them it was okay to be sad, or scared, or nervous for him, he also wasn't sure how much time they had to get him into some semblance of mobility. 

Every now and then, rocks would shift and cascade down, rolling closer and closer to him, it seemed. 

“Okay, well that's good. Now my shoulder. I think it's only dislocated? I've calmed down enough that…I need you to help me sit up, but we should be able to pop it into place no problem.”

Kurapika shuffled, bracing his back with their arms. Leorio’s head pounded from the shift, but when his arm rolled beside him, he managed to grit his teeth and pull it into his lap.

“You remember? Last time it was Zepile I think.”

Humming, Kurapika shifted again, grabbing his arm while holding him up with their shoulder. 

With a twist and a shove, Leorio’s ears rang with the popping of his shoulder. The pain made him want to sob, he won't deny that. But the dull throb he was left with compared to the numb, grating pain? It was so much better he could cry with relief. 

“I’m glad.”

Leorio bit his lip. He hadn't realized he said that out loud. 

The panic that had thrummed in his mind was so much less then, making him relaxed and even giddy. He flopped his head back, curling it towards Kurapika’s face. “How far do you think you could carry me?”

Kurapika’s hand came up, stroking his face in a familiar gesture. “To be completely honest, not far. It would be more doable if you just used me as a crutch and leaned on me.”

“I thought I was,” he giggled, smiling. 

“You’re unbelievable,” his partner sighed. “But…you know, if this works, if Gon and Killua managed to end him… we could finally go. Meet your family, maybe…maybe it could be a honeymoon.”

“But you told me no,” Leorio muttered, unsure how serious Kurapika was at that moment.

There was a noticeable pause, the kind that made Leorio second guess his words. But then- “Ask me again.”

If he hadn’t known how much it would hurt, Leorio would have started to roll with laughter. “Of all the- hell no, you made me wait how long? You can wait another few hours before I propose to you again.”

“Then I guess-” Kurapika shifted, moving Leorio's good arm over their shoulders, and bracing their legs to stand, “we’d better hurry to help, so we can get back sooner.”

“To whe re-” Leorio finished with a squeak as he got his legs under him, shaky with his knees buckling slightly. “The fight?” He took two quick breaths, shifting most of his weight to his good leg. “I doubt I'll be much help.”

Kurapika made a noise that he knew well to be a short laugh. “I’m sure we can find something for you to hold.”

~~~

The most difficult thing, Killua had noticed, was killing the fish and keeping them dead. 

His blade was not designed for hacking, chopping off limbs and fileting his foes. Light scratches were usually enough to send more hesitant enemies running, and direct stabs to muscles or stomachs sent anyone more accustomed to fighting on to an early grave. 

But these things, these fish that swam in the air the same as the fish Killua had seen in oceans and rivers, they had no fear of harm. Killua’s blade glanced off their plates, and a poorly located arm might receive a scratch or worse from the spikes that protruded from their spine. 

He dared not chance the opportunity for them to bite him. 

Besides their graceful glide directly at him, they appeared to be in no hurry. Testing his luck, he took a moment to grab a chunk of stone and toss it at the creature's face. Its beak snapped over the stone, cutting into it as if it were butter. It didn't even slow in its swim towards him.

Fearing for his limbs, Killua began with a standard jab to approximate location to their major organs: heart, lungs, then brain.

Stabs to their underbellies did nothing to hinder them, not even slow them. They never flinched, twitched, not even a roll to the side. 

The stab to their heads seemed to slow them the most, but their skulls were thick, almost plated. The rags that slid off were the only things his blade caught when he stabbed from the front. Instead he had to side step, then rotate, aiming under the point that covered the top of their neck. The thinned bone under the plate cracked, sending a small shiver up the rapier and into Killua’s arm. The book threw extra weight into his swing; weight he wasnt used to having.

If he hadn't been used to the strike of bone, it might have made him sick. 

After the strike to the brain, the creature collapsed, slithering and rolling across the ground, curling into itself. But Killua didn't waste much time watching it die or recover- he continued a painstakingly slow pace forward, blade at the ready.

More still came.

Or he thought it was more. Everytime he came to a new fork in the hallway, he did as Kurapika had instructed and kept left. At some point he felt the floor descend more, the air cooling as he went deeper down. A new mummy-fish would float forwards, its spines scraping and gouging out the stone, but still it slithered forward, gracefully gliding right for him.

If he didn’t know they would kill him, he might have thought them mesmerizing, beautiful even. 

Killua lost track of the amount of times he would round a corner and find himself face to face with an angular snout, jaw opening to show the razor sharp beak-

Dropping and rolling further down the hallway, his shoulder gave a dull ache, something Killua knew as exhaustion but hadn't felt like this in years . 

But when was the last time he had an enemy that wouldn't stop, wouldn't stay down?

Hunkering into a corner, book on the ground, ears straining for any noise, he took a moment to take inventory of his body. He harnessed control of his breath, slowing and holding it, calming his heart. He lay his blade on the ground within easy reach, flexing and massaging his hand. Maybe he should switch to his right hand for the time being? 

He gave an experimental flex to his hand again, feeling some of the finer muscles twitch and spasm.

“Right it is,” he sighed, sliding the hilt into his hand. He made some small shifts, fighting the worn spots of leather in his hilt that had been made by his left hand. Then he awkwardly help the book in his left, holding it and staring uncertainly. His exheasution must be getting to him, because for a moment he though he'd forgotten how to grip it. 

Casting a last glance behind, then ahead, he found the hallway eerily quiet. This whole time, the creatures hadn’t changed their way of attacking, of moving. He doubted they had much ability to think, and reacted purely on instinct. 

Perhaps he had killed them all?

Could mummies really be killed again?

Killua stifled a hysterical laugh. 

They had to be able to die again. That was the whole reason why they were doing this, any of this.

It was the entire hope their team was relying on being true. 

The undead had to be able to die, to be stopped again.

Rather than fall deep into emotional or theoretical thoughts, Killua opted to simply go on, staying on the path at a steady march-

And almost missing the step that dropped out from under him at the next entry to the hallway.

Or so he had thought. 

Killua blinked, finding torches and light filling a broad, deep room. The size made him think of the treasure room he had passed earlier, but this one had decorative pillars stretching from ground to ceiling. Even the stairs under his feet seemed more ornate than needed, designs carved in and wrapping down, past where he could see.

The entry he had found seemed closest to the ceiling, the stairs curving on the outer left edge of the cave, ending some hundred feet further down. 

He felt his thighs twitch at the thought of climbing down and back up. 

Then he saw movement, further to the right, just past several of the pillars.

A figure with black hair, stuck to the side of a pillar. 

The black hair was curled tightly and almost stuck straight up.

It was Knuckle.

Killua blinked, trying to focus his tired eyes ahead, peering through the flickering shadows. 

Was that a table? With feet laying across the top.

Two pairs of feet.

And another figure walked towards them. Slowly. 

Killua felt his skin crawl.

The mummy was walking towards the two figures lying on the tables.

It was carrying a blade, torchlight flashing against the metal.

Chapter Text

Gon had done his part. Now he felt stuck, unable to do anything until someone else made a move, a sign that their one plan was going into motion.

Well, he was very much stuck to the table as well, shackles strung up once more, but now even shorter than they were before. Not to mention his shoulder felt stiff and swollen, like the muscle had been worked beyond the point of small, finer movements. Gon had done his best to occasionally struggle as the mummy pulled him along, especially as the creature had once again laid him out next to the other mummy’s still body. 

Compared to when he had left earlier, not much changed as far as the Americans were concerned. All three were still unceremoniously tied to the pillars, looking about as cheerful as anyone could, given the circumstances. But the actual ceremony hall had changed.

He noticed large slabs of stone had been moved aside to reveal pools of pink- Gon didn't want to know what it was. It was thick, like tar, but the vivid shade- Gon wondered if magnesium, large deposits, had made it change color. It rippled and waved like a turbulent pond, but slowly, implying that it was a more solid-like substance. 

Then the corridor was more lit, revealing the chamber to be deep and grand. Gon could make out several more entrances than the one he had previously taken, and a single, tall staircase that was carved into the wall, curving up to a much higher level of the city. 

That was all he was able to see before he was pinned down again, Zushi securing the chain with an expressionless mask. 

“Zushi- '' Gon tried, one last time, to reach the ex-soldier. “Zushi, you can’t let him do this, think of all the lives you saved before, all the battles you fought in to protect your brothers in arms, your homeland-”

“I don't have any brothers in arms.” He said coolly. “My last brother was stabbed and left for dead, after cutting me so i can never hold a blade. My only father figure died as my brother held me back from helping. I would rather he had left me to die that day, too. Then I wouldn't have to do this. I wouldn't have stabbed him, and I wouldn't be here.”

“But you can-”

The creature croaked, making Zushi turn to it. “It's time,” he murmured. 

“Yes,”  Gon heard. The mummy was preparing an altar, setting up dishes of different ingredients and herbs, a scale standing tall next to them. 

The creature raised its hands and clapped twice, then paused.

Gon swallowed, straining to hear what would happen next. He could barely see the Americans on the edge of his vision doing much the same, heads swinging about.

Something shimmered, floating between the pillars. 

Gon choked as he saw a mummified fish swim through the air. It twined around the mummies shoulders before gliding up near Gon.

He readied to kick the thing away, shifting his knees, but the fish slid next to the still body beside him, sinking to swim around the table he laid on. 

Another fish did the same, then another, and another. Several started gliding through the air, shifting their attention from the creature to the other mummy. 

If they hadn’t been covered in bandages, Gon might have thought them beautiful, their plated bodies shimmering white with the odd scale flashing in the torch light. They looked like a breed related to Acipenser fulvescens , but with a finer body type, more delicate fins.

Gon blinked, realizing they had begun moving around him. 

“Shit-” he started, just as the mummy began to speak, chant, picking up a dagger. It walked slowly up to him, chanting still, the torchlight flickering ominously. 

He felt like an animal on a snare- He began to twist and shift violently, cursing under his breath, heart hammering. 

Just as the mummy was two paces from him, Gon heard something that had to be the greatest thing he'd heard in his life.

Footsteps moving fast.

His eyes flickered to his right just in time to see pale hair and the flash of silver. 

Gon’s chest grew tight, watching Killua dash in, blade outstretched, a gold square clutched to his chest. Gon watched him maneuver his blade, twirling it around the dagger the creature was posing over Gon’s chest. 

The dagger flew out of the mummy's grasp, clattering to the ground. Gon watched as the creature’s face twisted in both elation and fury, mouth grimacing as its eyes danced cruelly. 

Killua stood next to Gon’s table, blade held protectively over his body as he chanced a glance at Gon, eyes sweeping over his body. “You have no idea how much I want to both punch you and kiss you.”

“ What? ” Gon screeched, struggling once again against the chains, hoping he could kick the taller man. “Fat chance of either happening, now get me out of here.” He strained his wrists away from the main link, thinking Killua would swing his blade at it.

Instead he dropped the book next to Gon and leapt over the table in the same move, pushing the creature back as he began his dance patterns. 

“ Don't just leave me here you ass,” Gon yelled again, rattling his manacles aggressively, then regretting it immediately. He huffed a breath through his nose, twisting to slide the book closer to himself.

Meanwhile, Killua moved fast, pushing himself to attack, feet and arms moving in practiced motions of sword patterns, closer and closer, until finally he pushed the creature back, and was facing both it and Zushi, who stood just behind his new master, ready to intercede. 

Killua then found himself in the center of the room, the Americans tied just beside him, with two suspicious pools of goo by his feet. That plus the fish swimming lazily by his head-

Despite him being the one to make the first move, Killua felt himself at a disadvantage.

Taking a chance, Killua swung wide, the tip of his rapier scraping along the surface of the pillar to his left first, then right in a great arch, sparkes flying where metal met stone. The ropes holding the Americans snapped from pressure, then slipped and fell to the ground.

Killua managed to see that just as Zushi dashed in at him. Leaving his stomach open with his wild move, Killua had expected something. Zushi barreling into him and shoving him to the ground wasn't quite it.

Gasping as the wind was knocked out of him, Killua gulped, wrestling with Zushi’s fists until he could get a breath into his lungs. 

Getting his knees under him, Killua pushed the shorter man off with his feet, aiming for him to land in the goo that bumbled. 

With a breath to himself, Killua coughed out, “Help Gon! The fish-” But his lungs twisted in a way that made him hack and gasp again. He struggled back up to his feet, dashing at the standing mummy, who began to walk back to what looked like the main altar table. 

With unnatural grace, the creature swayed out of the blade's path as Killua made a killing stroke. It took the black book with it, flipping pages in a slow, almost mocking way as Killua continued to swing attack after attack. 

When it began to chant, Killua took a second to turn and survey the area. Knuckle was fiddling with Gon’s shackles, while the doctor and Shoot fended off the fish that seemed to harmlessly nosedive at them.

He couldn't see Zushi.

The mummy made a noise that had both Killua and Gon swinging their heads towards it. It smiled, looking past the both of them, at the mummy that lay still next to Gon. The pink goo sank suddenly in the center, a great tunnel forming downwards, then spiking back up, like a droplet to a puddle. The altar’s dishes puffed with smoke, and the second mummy rose with a scream. It clawed at the air, then its own throat, seeming to mimic the action of gasping for air.

Gon began to frantically talk back to Knuckle, pleading that he hurry up. Killua again took up his attacks at the mummy, hard blows that missed over and over again. Gon could tell that Killua’s arm was slowing, growing tired. And that there was something off about his moves.

Had Killua always been right-handed?

Hearing a click, Gon turned back to Knuckle as he finished picking the second lock, and in that same moment he heard the new mummy quet, and saw a flutter of rags near him. 

“Duck!” the older man bellowed, just in time for Gon to obey and miss the side swing of the same dagger he had avoided just before.

The second mummy, black hair sticking out and around its shoulders, now standing beside the very table it was resting on, staggered closer to Gon, making a second unintelligible screech.

“What is that,” Knuckle spoke quickly, panicked. 

“The- the first mummy, when he finished that chant just now. The last word, it was something like-” Gon had to roll out of the way as the creature moved at him again. Now he was certain it was aiming for his chest. “It said ‘Rise again.’” 

“Of all the unbelievable-” Knuckle started to say, but Gon took off, dashing behind a pillar just as his one leg gave out.

Killua saw Gon move and watched the new mummy dash after him. He wanted to call out to the other man, to get between him and the dagger once more, but the first mummy, the creature, had started to retaliate against Killua’s attacks. 

His best guess was the creature had metal armbands under his rags, because he was able to deflect Killua’s blade with a well angled arm, or strike at him with a move Killua knew would crush his wrist. 

And suddenly he heard a footstep behind him, one that shuffled familiarly.

Killua ducked just in time, rolling and narrowly missing a goo pit, feeling his knees wobble as he stood.

“You’re growing tired, Killua.”

“Don't you ever shut up, you traitor?”

Zushi’s serious face turned dark. “Say it again.”

“What, traitor? Turncoat. Renegade. Back stabber” Killua watched his once-friend’s face twist with each insult, from anger to rage and then shame. “You’re an embarrassment to your mentor. He’ll kill you as soon as he looks at you once he’s back.”

“ Quiet,” he hissed, stalking closer. 

“No, if this is what you really want, then you’ll hear me, every last word. I hope what I say rings in your ears every moment of your life until you can't handle i-”

Killua's taunt worked too well, Zushi turning blind with rage as his whole face went dark red, charging at Killua. 

It was a stupid move. Zushi landed a hard blow to Killua’s ribs, but his head was open for Killua to knock his hilt into the side of his head. 

The other man crumbled, unconscious at last. 

Turning to look back at the creature, he saw it smile again, and it's terrible laugh scoured and scratched at his ears. Then it began to chatter at him.

After Gon dodged the first five or so wild swings by the second, new mummy, he came to several conclusions. The first was that this mummy was not at the same caliber as the first. This was most likely due to the lack of a curse and extra-ordinary magic fueling it.

The second was that Gon had been completely stupid to leave the book on the table.

It seemed to not notice it, or not realize its significance. It was more likely to be honed in on killing Gon so it could completely resurrect itself, as the first mummies spell intended. 

But now the book, still resting in the center of the table, was completely swarmed by the mummified fish. 

The Americans had done their best to fend them off, but without weapons, they were fighting a losing battle. Their hands and arms held varying scratches, and the bleeding was just as varied, some cuts dripping as others already dried to a dark red.

Tumbling and rolling from another wild slash at his chest, Gon thought hard about his next moves, and how he could get the book. 

Besides what small injuries he had given himself, Gon held no concerning wounds. The creature didn't want his body harmed in any significant way, and it seemingly only wanted to harm him with the dagger the second mummy now held. Based on the detailing and jewels embedded in the dagger, it was likely a ceremonial dagger, specifically designed with human sacrifice and other rituals in mind. 

After hearing a screech just behind him, Gon took off. Sprinting wasn't exactly his best move, but he was still decent at the first kick of his legs. Sand stirred up under his feet, making him slip, pushing and pulling with his hands to keep moving, until he was ducking under one gaping beak of a flying fish, and leaping up, rolling on the table, over the book, and off the otherside, taking the gold book with him. His shoulder gave a pang at the sheer weight of the book. Gold plated indeed-

Catching himself on one hand and his knees, he pushed off the side of the table and continued his sprint across the room. There, ahead was a broken pillar, low enough he could jump on it, but high enough to give him an advantage of any more incoming attacks.

“Gon! ”

Killua’s call made him instinctively duck. The sounds of scales and bones scraping on stone made him flinch back, missing the flick of a sharp tail as one fish swam away and up from him. 

“No more bets on the fish-” he muttered as he scrambled to his legs again. If he could just get a minute to study the book, just one minute-

A bellow above him made Gon flinch again, but it was a living human, and a sound that he knew. Knuckle and Shoot had reached him, guarding him with a rusted old sword and a spear he must have found, while Shoot held a revolver that Gon recognized as Killua’s.

“We’ve got your head,” Shoot murmured, even as his legs shook. “Read, quickly.”

Killua shuddered involuntarily after seeing Gon barely miss his head getting a bite taken out of it. His attention back to the mummy, he wondered what its game was. It had started to talk to Killua moments ago, speaking in that ancient tongue it often used when speaking to Gon. Here and there it added in the odd sounding louder word, something with an edge that Killua felt like a knife wound, as it glanced past him, behind him. That had been Killua’s only sign that it might try something on one of his comrades.

What seemed to be the worst part- the creature delighted in having Killua watch Gon’s near misses. In having a second to look, to fear for Gon. To worry about someone else.

Killua knew it because its smile grew wider after each exchange.

The other thing Killua became increasingly aware of, was that the creature was stalling. It wasn't really attacking him. It seemed far more interested in watching how Killua fought. It guarded from his more severe strikes, but it mostly just kept moving out of the way, side stepping and walking backwards, curving occasionally to stay close to the main altar.

Killua felt himself growing more tired. The tremors in his right hand were severe enough  to show, and the ache in his shoulder was now a dull throb. His breathing grew faster in its pace. He’d be panting soon.

He wouldn't be able to last much longer like this. 

“Gon?” He called out, concerned. “Any time now.”

“I need another minute, Killua!”

The creature clicked its teeth, altering its arms, shaping its fingers into curled claws. Its arms twisted just enough that Killua knew it was shifting, readying to attack now.

“Fuck- Gon hurry up-” he managed before the mummy ducked low then lunged up, claws aiming for his middle. He managed to block with his blade between him and the claw, but the impact threw his entire body back several feet, landing on his back with a groan. “Never mind, I've got it, take your time, sweetheart, got nothing but-”

“Mockery will get you nowhere, dear heart.”

“I beg to differ-” Killua rolled away from a speedy kick, struggling back to his feet. He almost lost his footing  when his heel slipped on the ledge of pink goo, one bubble popping at him menacingly. “Do I even want to know what that is?”

An ear splitting screech erupted, causing everyone to flinch. Killua turned to see Zushi, barely off the ground, seeming to have crawled to where Gon sat, guarded by the Americans. The man had taken a  dagger that looked vaguely familiar and likely from Killua’s own collection, and thrust it into the second mummies back.

The creature turned, screaming back to its dying companion, but as it crumpled to the ground, losing shape as it did, the creature’s resolve turned more stony. It sounded stoic as it spoke to the room, but whatever it said made Zushi turn red with rage.

“ LIAR!” He struggled to his feet, swaying. “You never meant to keep your deal. I heard you, every word.”

Killua watched Gon glance between the two, acknowledgement on his face, and Killua knew he was translating the conversation in his mind. However, Killua felt the very ass, standing and only hearing gibberish on one side of the argument, and then Zushi’s angered reply back: “You need a mummified body to complete the ritual! That's why this bastard came back!” “You used me! And my loyalty-” “I killed for you! When I swore the only other person-”

The creature began to laugh at him, that chilling, grating sound. Killua watched Zushi speak lowly to Gon before taking a tentative step forward. “Killua. You know-”

Killua raised one hand in a slicing motion. “I know. I-” He struggled for words, instinctively shifting, lowering his hands so he could slide his rapier to his left hand for comfort, even if it did ache as he gripped it. “I can't forgive you, not entirely, but I understand.” He looked to Gon before turning back to Zushi. “I understand now .”

His ex-brother nodded, sagging as he did, then stiffened with a new resolve, staring straight ahead. “Finish it,” he told Gon before charging in. 

Killua knew this move. They had practiced something like it for ages in their youth, a simple way for the two of them  to overwhelm a stronger enemy. Zushi charged blindly from the front, the shorter of the two. While he ducked the initial retaliation or block from the enemy, Killua was able to kick or shove the foe forward, and Zushi followed with a strike upwards.

Gon had begun to chant, voice carrying across the entire cavern, the fish twisting and flailing in the air with each word. The mummy would die soon, but maybe not from the first blade-

Except this time Zushi had no blade.

Killua realized a moment too late.

He had ruined Zushi's sword arm.

Had sliced the tendons beyond fine-motors.

The dagger he had before was in the sand behind him.

Zushi was shoving the mummy, barreling back with him, throwing them both into the pit of goo. Killua was in the wrong position to help, to drag him back, pull him to safety-    

Gon finished speaking with a sharp sound, and the creature began to struggle against the goo frantically, swimming against it, shoving Zushi and tar away from his body.

The fight finished, Killua sheathed his blade, focusing on the two bodies. Zushi appeared resigned, though pained. His body sank, right side already encased, left barely struggling, not even lifting his arm for Killua-

Killua spared one last look to his friend’s face, seeing how his eyes turned sad as he disappeared under the pink tar, before Killua turned, focusing again on the creature.

One of its hands was already buried before it dropped the other, giving in. Killua felt Gon approach just behind him, hand sliding around his wrist. The mummy looked to Killua’s right, where Gon stood. It spoke a final few words, the last part choked off as the tar covered and slipped into its mouth. Its eyes blazed and turned to slits before they too were covered.

Killua heard Gon swallow. “He said- hmm, it was something like ‘until the next time.’”

Before Killua could reply, could tell Gon ‘ No fucking way ,’ a tremor ripped through the cavern. It was followed by another, and another. Soon pieces of the ceiling and floor cracked, huge chunks falling away and down. Pillars splintered and twisted, creating clouds of dust and rubble.

“RUN!” Knuckle bellowed, tucking himself under Shoots arm as they both hobbled away. The doctor followed behind them, heading towards the staircase. Killua lunged with them, feeling Gon tighten his grip on his wrist-

“NO!” Another voice called, barely heard over the echoing rumbles. “HERE!” 

They all turned to see a head of blond hair, waving at them frantically from one of the lower entryways.

“Kurapika!'' Gon called back, overly cheerful given the situation, dragging Killua with him. Killua resigned himself to being dragged, praying they would make it out in time-

It was then he noticed Gon, his arm swinging to propel himself forward, didn't have the book, either of them. He held nothing in his hands besides Killua's wrist.

The group ran as fast as they could,  darting and stopping before being crushed by crumbling rocks. Just as they neared, Kurapika disappeared into the black of the entryway, swinging a sputtering torch as they went.

All they could do was run and pray the next crack they heard wasn’t before or above them. Behind him, Killua heard Knuckle or Shoot talk to one another, or Dr. Morel speak to all of them, encouraging them. Each time, Gon squeezed Killua’s wrist, pulling it a bit more urgently, a bit closer to him.

Killua was still processing that Gon hadn’t taken anything with him, had abandoned the books to the crumbling altar room. He was half tempted to turn back and get one, if not both, of the books, to have something for Gon to take with to the university, to prove himself to his peers-

A cloud of dust was all that followed them out, the cool night air clear, starless and glowing as dawn crept in the far distance. 

Still they ran, continued to run until the ground no longer trembled, until they were met with nothing but the quiet of the desert night. All they could hear were their collective gasps. Panting, Killua collapsed, his legs quivering more than they had in years. Gon joined him, as did Shoot. 

They breathed together, memorizing the feeling of clean air in their chests and warm sands under their palms.

A bellow, something low and mammal, had them turn.

“About time,” Leorio called easily, overly cheerful. “I thought I might have to go back and get you.”

“There’s still time,” Killua rasped. “Go ahead, my dignity is waiting for you-”

“Not on that leg you aren't,” Kurapika growled, stalking the man with a raised hand, finger extended towards Leorio’s face. They must have had enough menace in their eyes to make the man nervous, because he turned his camel to avoid the nearing threat, trotting near Gon.

“Did you take care of it?”

“Of course,” Gon said, far too easily, but his words were followed by a hack.

“And Zushi?” Leorio looked to Killua as he asked that.

No one replied though.

“Well.” Leorio was quiet, thinking likely. “I managed to find a couple of camels. Might not be enough for all of us, but it should make it easier for those who can't walk. Like me. My leg’s broken, in case you didn't know.”

“And here I thought you were preparing your next role as the next king,” Dr. Morel jeered, “after you give up the jester hat.” But there was a hitch to his voice that made Killua look at him. The doctor was crying, tears flowing past his cracked glasses and dripping off his chin.

“He does this,” Knuckle grumbled, though he was fighting off tears himself, huge drops piling up in the corners of his eyes.

“Takes one to know one,” Shoot said with more affection than annoyance. 

Exhaustion taking its toll, Killua rolled his body, face falling into Gon’s shoulder, feeling him flinch before melting around him. “Are you tired? Do heroic rescue efforts take it out of my armed escort?” Gon teased. “I’ll have to increase your pay, make it worth your trouble.”

“Mm.” Killua took a breath, smelling Gon, alive, breathing and shifting under him. He promptly forgot what had been said. Going back to a previous thought, he murmured, “You left it.”

“Huh?”

“The book. The one you looked so long for.”

“It's just a book, Killua.”

“But-”

“Little brother, if you need something to take back to the university-” Leorio interrupted. He stopped himself, then turned in the saddle rummaging behind himself in one of the saddle bags. The first item he retrieved was a very beautiful and ornate statue. “I think this should suffice?” He then put it back and grabbed another beautiful and equally decorated goblet. “Or this.”

Kurapika sighed. “Leorio those are sac- ”

“Sacred, yeah yeah, I get it, well now they’re all buried and sacred. Let me have these few. Me and my brother. And the other guys. Aw hell, this is not going to carry over well, I should have grabbed more-”

Assured, Killua resumed tucking his face into Gon’s neck. He sat like that, feeling Gon’s throat rumble as he replied to someone, or as the other bickered around him. Only when he heard another voice, high pitched and hysterical, did he lift his head.

Way off in the distance, another herd of camels approached, with Retz and Ikalgo in the leading, waving at them frantically.

While the others returned the frantic waving, and some even began walking to greet them, Killua leaned back, tilting his head to look at Gon.

To take in the man who had changed so much of his life in so short a time; admiring him with his glasses gone, hair mussed and odd strands falling into his face, cheeks still rounded and now flushed from- well, any number of things, Killua could guess. 

He blinked back at Killua, patience in every line of his being.

“Gon?”

“Yes, Killua?”

“I’m really glad you busted me out of prison.”

They both smiled, then laughed together as they stood, greeting their other friends.