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“You know I’ve always been bad at ties,” Hal jokes, trying again for the umpteenth time to make a clean knot. David doesn’t offer help, knowing Hal wanted to do this for him, but his shaky hands prove it difficult. “Sorry it’s taking so long.”
“Not at all.” For what feels like the first time in years, the Nomad has finally landed. There was a reluctance to leave their airborne home, but they no longer have a reason to keep to the sky.
“How does that look?” Turning to the mirror, Dave adjusts it tighter and nods once.
“Looks perfect, Hal.” The scientist combs through the grey hair tenderly, as if he’d shatter against the touch, like fine china, only used on the most special occasions. They stand in silence for a long, tense moment before Hal wraps his arms around David’s torso, touching his forehead to the other’s temple and exhales.
“Do you want me to at least see you off?” He whispers. “I can take the helicopter or even drive you, if you want.”
“I won’t make you do that. You have a wedding to prepare for, remember?” Through the mirror, David sees his ghastly reflection looking back, though Hal has a sad smile on his face; the same he’s worn since Dave’s body started to change.
“Yeah,” his voice is almost inaudible, like a ghost on his shoulder. “You don’t even want to say goodbye?”
“I can’t. It’s too special of a day for me to ruin it. When you look back, it’ll be the anniversary of officially retiring the Nomad and Meryl’s wedding. Not the—”
“I know,” he interrupts before David can finish what he doesn’t want to hear. “What’ll I say if someone asks?”
“That’s up to you. I trust you in what you think is best. I always have.” David puts his hand over Hal’s head, rubbing it somewhat awkwardly, stiff in his joints. When Hal finally stands upright the burn scar on David’s face becomes visible and he has to turn from his reflection.
“Hate to ruin this suit,” he says instead, fixing his cuff links.
“You’ve always looked handsome in it. It’s a good last memory.” The blazer doesn’t button well with the gun holster over his shoulders, but from a glance it looks like a pair of suspenders. “Shame we rarely used it.”
“I think it helped when proposing Philanthropy to the UN,” he laughs, though it turns into a wet cough he hides in his fist.
“Definitely sealed the deal.” Brushing off his shoulders, Hal holds him by his biceps, slimmer now than the last time he wore the suit, and doesn’t meet his eyes. There’s so much he wants to say while he still can, but knows he's just wasting his breath. Nothing he can say would change David’s mind - they both know this - so Hal simply pulls him in for one more hug, memorizing the way he feels under his touch, though it’s been etched into his mind since the first time he ever got to touch David. Every scar, mole, patch of hair and curve of his muscle was recorded, like a map of his loved one, worn from reading so often. As time passed, the map began to crease differently, erasing the connected dots and redrawing a new route; thinner, rougher, ripped at the corners from misuse and faded due to neglect. Taped together as carefully as Hal could but he always knew someday the map would serve its purpose and finally be folded up and stored away.
“You’re crying,” David murmurs, wiping Hal’s tears away with his thumb.
I don’t want to replace you, Hal thinks, turning into Dave’s hand. I want to frame and keep you with me. It’s selfish but I’m not ready to let you go.
“You’ve always been sensitive.”
“You’ve always been blunt,” the brunette laughs, sniffling and wiping his eyes with his sleeve.
“Don’t cry so much. You have to be strong now.” Unable to speak, Hal simply nods. “Sunny will be up soon.” What he doesn’t say was that he needs to leave before she sees him.
“Are you sure you don’t want me to take you?”
“Yes. You have a busy day ahead of you - I could probably use some fresh air.”
“Can I at least—” he swallows back more tears, looking down at his hands. “Can we at least go on one last walk together? For old times’ sake.”
“A walk before a mission, huh?” Through the wear and tear of his body, there is that same gentle smile on David’s lips, a careful touch when he holds Hal’s hand, something a soldier with his edge had a hard time to learn such tenderness, both in accepting and producing.
“I think it’s the closest you’ll allow me to seeing you off.”
“Hm. Lead the way, Hal.” For the most part, the Nomad had been cleaned up to appropriately host an impromptu wedding, though the three of them hid most of the junk in the upper level to make more room. Lacing their fingers together, Hal matches Dave’s pace, the misty morning air damp on their skin.
“Looks like it’s going to be a hot summer,” Hal grumbles, trying to fill the empty silence.
“You’ve never liked the cold.”
“I know that, I just don’t want to be sweating my ass off all the time.”
“Mm. The Nomad was always chilly.”
“It balanced out the heat from the computers.”
“When you don’t live at a desk, it’s pretty damn cold.”
“I think the matching turtlenecks were nice.” Dave laughs at that, a dry wheeze in his chest that makes Hal’s fingers tighten slightly.
“It’s a nice day for a wedding.”
“Mm.”
“Make sure Sunny doesn’t get burned - that girl’s got her mother’s fair skin and little to no sunshine.”
“I’ll be sure to. She’s got a sunhat, so that should help.”
“That reminds me, have you seen Meryl’s dress?”
“No,” pushing up his glasses, Hal looks over to Dave. “Why, have you?” He nods, a smile pulling at his lips.
“She wanted to ask me my opinion on it.”
“Yeah? What’d you say?”
“You’ll have to see for yourself, Hal. No spoilers.” Rolling his eyes, Hal exhales. “I think she wanted to get some closure. Accept that things are over and we are both able to move on. Getting my blessing was an end and a new beginning.”
“Hm.”
“That, or she still has a crush and was waiting to see if I have any objections.” Snorting, Hal squeezes his hand playfully.
“Oh, totally. Who’d ever want to let Solid Snake go?” No comment follows from either of them, walking hand in hand in silence until David has to stop, stretching his knees. Hal rolls on his heels nervously, trying to think about his current time with Dave and not his last time together.
“Sunny’s probably awake now. Hopefully she’s made breakfast.”
“As much as I’d love to eat her eggs one more time, I think this is it.” Hal blinks, staring at David, who was leaning against a fence post.
“You’re leaving?”
“You wanted to see me off, didn’t you?”
“Well, yes, but—” he stops himself from saying anything else, knowing it would be in vain. David had been generous enough to walk with him, and now they stood at the end of their time together. “Okay. Uh, do you have everything?”
“I think so.” His only necessity was his gun, which they both knew was loaded and equipped.
“All right. Well, David, thank you for these past nine years.”
“Don’t say it like this is a goodbye. We’ll meet again.”
“I can still say thank you, can’t I?” David cups Hal’s face with his hands, calloused and tough, pressing their foreheads together.
“Thank you for staying with me.”
“Thank you for loving me,” Hal whispers.
“Thank you for letting me love you.” They kiss, delicate and brief, Hal brushing David’s tears away with his thumb with no regard for himself.
“Of course. Take care, Dave.”
“Same to you, Hal. Don’t wait up.” A moment of hesitance passes, both of them restraining from touching again before David turns, beginning to walk away. So much Hal wants to say dies on his tongue, unable to watch the shadow of a legend so boldly stride towards his death that he starts back to his daughter, trying to get out the most of his tears as he can before he greets her for the day.
David touches the soil beneath his palm, rubs it between his fingers before it crumbles in the dust. He stands, brushes his hands off on his slacks, and looks around him. In this potter’s field lay Big Boss, the man known as Cipher and, officially, Solid Snake. Only one of them gets to walk away, albeit with his tail between his legs. Looking at his watch, David thinks about how Meryl’s wedding is going and hopes his name isn’t in anyone’s mouth. The heaviness of his gun still weighs against his teeth, something he had done many times without thinking on how it must feel, gunpowder on his tongue. Discarding his gun besides Big Boss’ body, David leaves his past in the cemetery and walks, hands in his pockets, dead for the second time.
With the Patriots gone, Solid Snake was finally a free man, no longer on the run. Now that he was dead, David, a man with nothing to his name, had nowhere to turn to. Hal was not an option - it was hard enough leave, returning as a failure was pitiful. Aside from his gun, the only other belonging he has was his wallet, possibly to help identify his body. Not that any of it was valid, having relied on fake IDs for years and losing his sense of identity a long time ago. Stopping to sit on a park bench and watch people pass him, David comes to the conclusion that his only option was to return home - the home he had known, had built and spent too long holed up in, hiding from the world.
Purchasing a plane ticket without having to hide his identity and duck around surveillance cameras has become an alienating feeling to him; the ability to be out without fear. It’s scary, almost, making him feel vulnerable, his nerves itching at his entire being that something would inevitably go wrong. No one spared him a second glance - perhaps they never had in the past nine years and it was all paranoia - but Dave still feels the need to draw in on himself, like the lonely man he is.
It’s a hell of a long way back to Alaska, and he tries not to think about anything on his way there. Buys more weather-appropriate clothes, some necessities he needs to live off of while he gets settled in. He hopes his cabin hasn’t been compromised in any way in another attempt to pull him out of his pit or too terribly worn down due to neglect over practically a decade. He was too old to mush, let alone care for fifty huskies; at the time, it was one of the few things that convinced him to get out of bed and keep himself alive. Years have passed since he’s last taken to the bottle, and his body has become used to a regular schedule that he likely couldn’t let himself slip back into unhealthy habits even if he tried.
Despite being a little worse for wear, the cabin remains tucked away, untouched aside from mother nature and evidence of wildlife getting into his food supplies kept in the shed. Thawing the pipes to get hot water running and the gas stove working again is going to be a pain in the ass, but he’ll be damned if he rests before then.
David is reminded of what he heard of Master Miller all those years ago - shot in his Alaskan cabin after retiring and going off the grid. How anyone succeeded in finding him to assassinate him and then Colonel discovering the body after supposedly recruiting him for the Shadow Moses Incident was beyond Dave, but he was sure the same would happen to him. A deserving death for men of his background - alone, expecting, willing. If anyone manages to hunt him down they deserve the right to pull the trigger that he was unable to. Hell, even if Hal were the one behind the gun it would be justified. Abandoning his family out of shame for being unable to finish his final mission gave Hal every right to see to his end. No man deserves to go back home after what he's done.
Looking out the window, Dave only wishes Sunny could’ve seen the snow. She probably wouldn’t care for it but the image of her fair skin rosy from windchill, bundled twice her size with Hal hovering over her like the overprotective person he is, followed by three mugs of cocoa by the fire is so vivid to David, like a memory. He and Hal spent plenty of days basking in the warmth of the flames, freshly chopped wood crackling and limbs tangled around each other, bodies warm and gentle.
The memory is faded out by the smell of burning flesh, salt water and gasoline. Everything then felt like a blur, fast forwarding through a movie to get to the end when the DVD skips, scratched and unplayable. Stuck on a single frame. On the soft dirt of the cemetery, gun heavy in his hand, sweat damp on his skin. A voice he recognizes and loathes, distorted like a broken record. Closing his eyes, he can still smell the cigar as he lit it against Big Boss’ lips, which fell pathetically to the ground. That was the moment David paused the tape, ending the recording and ejected it. When he became a dead man for the second time, though this time there was no one to cover the tracks behind him. Not telling Hal where he was going was a better decision when he didn’t go through with it - there was officially no one to look for his body to verify his death. Any proof was Hal’s testimony, however he tells the story.
Cigarettes lost their taste the same from when they were special, sneaking them from Sunny to avoid a lecture from his daughter or his partner or, hell, everyone who worried about his health. Not that quitting was going to postpone his death anymore than his disease would. Setting his unlit cigarette down on the table, he folds his hands over his chest and closes his eyes.
He can just sit like this to the end of his days, alone like he was back in 2000. Drinking himself sick on the regular with no one but his dogs to keep him company. Maybe he’ll go to a shelter and pick up a stray, one that’s also nearing the end with no one to look after and sits lonely in a cage, abandoned. Someone he can find solace in without feeling like he’s weighing them down like he was with Hal and Sunny. A companion he could die with and not leave behind. It was Hal who brought him out of that shell, drugged him out of his pathetic life like the stubborn asshole he was at the time - still is, honestly - and set him on the right track. Some time ago their paths split, Hal’s growing wider and more lively whereas David found himself scrambling in the dark over rocks, his road having ended some time ago. Through the thicket he could see Hal, in the distance, looking for him in the shadows, but his gut instinct told him to stay hidden, undeserving of sunlight.
Waking up with a coughing fit, David realizes he fell asleep and the dark of Alaska engulfs the cabin, much like his poetic metaphor. Hacking up phlegm into a tissue, he turns on some lights, pops some painkillers and lays down in the stiff, cold bed, where there was no one to warm it for him.
Hal never cared for the cold. He tolerated it for David, similarly to how the latter put up with the warmer weather of their trips. Partnerships rely on compromise, but without the opposing factor and Sunny, who doesn’t seem to have a preference - just excited to be on the ground - Hal finds himself longing for the cold. It reminds him too much of David, but so do most things. Though she was not biologically related to them and only to Hal through name, he saw a lot of David in Sunny. Mannerisms, body language, even some of her interests in David’s old books that he couldn’t bring himself to get rid of. Whether she was doing it subconsciously or it was her way of remembering Dave, it was as comforting as heartbreaking for Hal to see.
Though Hal never explained the full circumstance, everyone seemed to come to the same conclusion of what happened to Snake. He regularly got visitors - friends who wanted to see Sunny but he knew they were more or less checking in on him. They never said anything directly, of course, but little actions here and there that Hal recognizes from when he helped David get back on his feet. Campbell was probably their most frequent guest, despite his age and how inconvenient it was for him to visit. Deep inside of him Hal knew that if anyone had insight on where David ended up, Campbell would be the one to know. The fact Hal didn’t know meant he wasn’t supposed to know; whether or not David confined that information in his former colonel was up to their discretion, something he didn’t have the right to ask. Campbell’s visits include a gift for Sunny, some homemade food - thankful from Roy himself and not Rosemary - and long, often sparse chats with Hal over coffee. They would exchange information from the outside and inside worlds, as it were, and other times enjoy each other’s quiet company. Johnny and Meryl were trying for a child, Mei Ling had retired from her naval work and returned to computers, Raiden was AWOL but Rose and her son were managing well without him despite that. Of course, Campbell was still protecting them, perhaps because of his desire to finally have a family that he was unable to with Meryl. Sometimes Hal felt that was why he visited the most, but he appreciated their time together nonetheless.
“Have they thought of names yet?” Hal asks upon hearing the news Meryl was pregnant. “Might be too soon to make that call.”
“If it’s a girl, Meryl wants to name after her mother.” Sipping from his coffee, Hal ignores the small, pained smile on Campbell’s lips. Families were a messy thing.
“Any boy names?”
“David.” The name hits Hal like a punch to his gut, setting down his mug and wrings his hands together in his lap.
“Oh. That— it’s a nice name.”
“She thought it was the least we could do to keep his legacy—”
“That’s not— that’s not what he would’ve wanted,” Hal’s voice fails him, looking at his reflection in his half-empty coffee cup. “She doesn’t have to do that.”
“Hal.”
“If he wanted us to remember him, he would’ve stayed, right? He lives through memories and tales and died as the legendary hero.” He struggles to get the words out, throat dry. “All of that is in the past. It’s better to… to move on.” From the corner of his eye Hal can see Roy open and close his mouth, holding him back from saying something before taking his cane and pushing himself up.
“I’ll see myself out. I’m sorry to have upset you, Hal.” His uneven footsteps echo to the door, hesitating before closing it behind him.
Hal eventually manages to collect himself and get up from his chair, glancing out the window to see Roy was sitting on the porch, watching Sunny ride her bike down the street.
“He didn’t want me to tell him goodbye,” he recalls, crossing his arms over his chest, leaning against the doorframe. “Said we’d meet again. Didn’t take him as one to really believe in an afterlife. I guess I thought he’d come back, you know? I’m sure he said that to make it easier and not seem so abrupt but…” he sighs, takes off his glasses and rubs his eyes with the heel of his palm. “I’ve lost sleep over it, and not in the way you would for someone who died. Or maybe, I’ve never been great at coping with things. I still keep an eye out for certain keywords - even after destroying the Patriots, you never truly know what’s out there in the world - and Snake remains on my whitelist. I haven’t found anything, of course, but that’s not comforting. Nothing to prove he’s alive or dead but our last conversation of meeting again.” Campbell reaches over and puts his hand over Hal’s elbow, urging him to sit down.
“If I knew anything,” he starts, carefully. “Would you want to hear it?”
For a long, tense moment Hal stares at Roy, trying to read his expression.
“Do you?”
“That depends.”
“No. I don’t want to know.”
“You’re losing sleep over a hypothetical, a what-if.”
“I know, but I want to suspend my disbelief as long as possible. Even if that’s not healthy, if I can just pretend until I’m ready to let go, I’m willing to be selfish.”
“Is that what he would want?”
“What he wants doesn’t really matter if he’s not here.” Putting his glasses back on, he turns his attention to Sunny, circling her way back up the driveway. “I’m sure she knows I’m still looking for him. We haven’t talked about him since he left but she’s smart.”
“Don’t you think the first step to getting over David is talking to Sunny about it? If the two of you are bottling things up and not addressing it, you’re sitting on a ticking time bomb.” Hal holds his tongue on making a comment about Campbell’s hypocrisy of confronting family affairs but accepts his advice with an exhale, giving Sunny a sad smile when she comes running up the sidewalk.
“D-Do we have any more bandaids?” She asks, presenting her knee, dried with blood and imprinted with gravel. Her other knee was already decorated with colorful adhesive, discovering the outdoors in the most adventurous, ambitious ways as kids can.
“Come inside, let’s get cleaned up. Campbell brought you lunch.”
“Okay! Thank y-you, Campbell!” With a toothy grin, she darts between the two men and heads for the bathroom, Hal and Roy watching her.
“She’s a good girl. You’re doing a good job raising her, Hal.”
“Thanks. I was worried it’d be hard by myself but she’s so independent already, sometimes I forget she’s still a child.”
“I think you should talk with her sometime. Start to properly grieve. And, if you’ll tolerate an old man’s ramblings, you should stop looking for him.”
“If he wanted me to find him, he would’ve told me, right? I just wish I had his body, at least. Cremated him or something and not left him by himself.”
“That’s the way most men like us end up, buried on the battlefield.”
“We’ve been off the field. He could’ve - should’ve - died like a regular man, with his family.”
“I’m sure he wanted to, Hal, but he did what he saw was best.”
“Best for him,” he can’t keep the bite from his voice, though he knows how selfish he sounds. Inhaling and exhaling slowly, he wipes his glasses off with the hem of his shirt. “Do you actually know about his whereabouts?”
“I do.”
“I won’t ask anymore but I request, if at all possible, he will eventually be sent back. Alive, dead, frozen, in a casket or a bunch of ashes in an envelope - I don’t want him to be alone anymore.”
“You should talk to Sunny,” Campbell reiterates. “That’s the first step to moving forward.”
“I know. I will. Thank you, Campbell.” Pulling him into an awkward side hug, Roy whispers something that makes Hal stiffen, letting go of the embrace and seeing the other to his car.
“Hal! Look!” At the table, Sunny had set up a plate for Hal, including dessert, which she was currently raving about how Campbell’s cooking has been improving. Taking a bite, he has to heartily agree, cleaning their plates when he takes her hands in his, small and delicate.
“There’s something I've been meaning to talk to you about.”