Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

"Is that…"

"Goodness, he looks terrible."

"Bachelor Dankovsky? Sir, are you alright?" a hand slithered from the crowd of onlookers, tapping the cloaked man's shoulder. The curious man jumped back at the last second, as the Bachelor swung his arm, nearly hitting the local square in the face.

The bystanders fell silent, shocked by the doctor's appearance. Daniil Dankovsky seemed to be barely holding himself up. His once immaculate clothing was now dirty and torn, hair unkempt, falling into an almost deathly pale face. His eyes, weighted by dark circles under them, still had a certain spark to them, but that seemed to be nearly out, leaving mostly pain and exhaustion.

Dankovsky stood still for a moment, staring at the man before he seemed to realise what happened and took a few steps back: "Oh no-I am truly sorry sir, I thought-nevermind" he immediately apologised, feeling relieved when the crowd slowly started dispersing, seeing that there would be no trouble.

"It is fine, don't worry. Are...Are you alright? Not to be rude, but you do not look good." the man tilted his head, studying the doctor's presence more.

"I am...I am completely fine. Simply exhausted, overwhelmed by the turn of events." 

"Ah, I see. Well, you will get enough rest, now that menkhu Burakh destroyed the Pest! We can finally live normally again." the man beamed, visibly expecting Daniil to show the same expression. He could only force a weak smile and a nod, as he felt emotions swell inside of him at the mention of that name.

"Yes...speaking of Burakh, do you know where I could find him?"

The steppe buzzed, as it always had. But now there was finally an order to it again. Insect flew from blade to blade, not in chaotic circles, confused by Boddho’s distress. The grass swayed gently, the blooms caught their full colours again, even the twyre vapours receded, now only causing a mild, perfectly normal swim of the menkhu's mind. 

Artemy stood tall and took a deep breath, his lungs filling with the familiar steppe air, but something in it disturbed the sensation. He looked over, his brows furrowing as he stared at the column of smoke, rising high from just next to the Crucible, the last remains of the parasite scattered around its base. The smoke would stay a while, but would eventually disappear, nature completely erasing the crime against it from existence.

No time to ponder about it now, he thought and leaned back down to pick another blade of swervery. There were still tinctures to be made, mostly for the recovering patients. He could not take long gathering, so much work to do, but now his soul could be more at ease - he had plenty of time now.

As he inspected the picked herb, a sudden rustle of grass tore him out of his thoughts. He stayed still, waiting for the presence to reveal its identity, but when all he could hear was laboured breathing, he turned around to see for himself.

They both stood in silence, a few feet apart from each other, as the steppe's buzzing went quieter, seemingly suppressed by the newcomer's aura. The Bachelor stared at the Haruspex, a mix of aggressive emotions flaming in his dark eyes. Burakh kept quiet, his fingers gently picking at the leaves in his hand, his expression showed...What was that, worry? Concern? 

Dankovsky shuddered before straightening his pose, hoping to look at least a little in his element, although he was aware he was far from it. After the twelve days he was a husk of the great esteemed bachelor he used to be and it drove him mad. How dare this town destroy him? How dare this thick headed steppe bull destroy the last chance of saving his life’s work?

“Are you happy with yourself?” he finally hissed, his voice half as confident as it was the first time he spoke to the Haruspex. That felt like ages ago.

“I did what had to be done. To heal Boddho, the parasite had to be destroyed,” Artemy sighed, visibly bothered by the Bachelor’s tone: “Can’t you see? The steppe is already healing. I am not happy with how it went, but it was what I chose. And I do not regret it in the slightest.”

“Of course, you and your steppe and earth and whatever, how could I have forgotten. Listen to me, Burakh, your useless traditions just cost us everything. That tower held the answers, the potential for great things, and you ordered it destroyed! You killed our future!”

“Are you talking about everyone, or just yourself, oynon?” Artemy spoke softly, but the words pierced through Dankovsky’s core. He gritted his teeth, fighting both the fatigue and the immense impulse to grab a knife and ram it into Burakh’s throat: “You idiot, you can’t see what could’ve been, you-”

“I see very clearly. Do you know what I see? I see a town cured of a plague, ready to leave a dark part behind and start anew. I see the Earth, healing, finally able to breathe as deep as it used to. And I see a bachelor, who is unable to come to terms with the fact that he was bested for once,” Artemy took a step forward, his expression softening a little, “you fought a terrible foe, emshen. We all did. And we can be grateful that at least one of us defeated it. Isn’t that enough?”

“You don’t understand, you can’t…” Daniil rubbed his face, his eyes stung and breath hitched, “How-how can that be enough?! I lost everything, Burakh! Everything I’ve worked for was lost to the plague! And-and when I could focus on something else, you just had to come and ruin that too-” 

His yell got suddenly stuck in his throat before his whole body spasmed. Next thing he knew he was down on his knees, barely holding himself up as violent coughs tore through his lungs, leaving him gasping for air, filled with twyre vapours which only made his fit worse. His vision blurred, head spinning far more than he could stand. No, not here, not like this-

Two strong hands suddenly gripped him and propped him up, “Oynon, are you alright? Is it the twyre vapours, you shouldn't have come, you’re not used to-” Daniil’s eyes finally focused again, granting him a sight of Artemy Burakh, inches from him, his face twisted in shock. He stared at the suffering man before moving one hand to quickly shove away his coat collar, exposing his neck.

Daniil wanted to push back, to warn him, but Burakh held him tight, and the cough held his throat even tighter. After a while he succumbed and let his muscles relax, if Burakh wanted to be this stupid, he’d just let him.

He knew well what Artemy would see. He had spent long nights sitting by the mirror, staring at the discolorations in the dim lamplight, studying how they grew day after day, slowly coming to terms with his situation. Now the Haruspex traced them, his rough fingertips dragging over Dankovsky’s jugular, dark and bloated, the veins spreading from it equally black, reaching towards his mouth and cheeks. As he pressed more, he could feel the heartbeat, irregular, nearly untraceable at one moment and in the next rapid, as if the heart would jump out of the chest any second. 

“But I…I gave you-Dankovsky, I gave you the Panacea. Where is it, why didn’t you take it?!” Artemy shook the doctor slightly, prying the answer out of him. 

Ah, the Panacea. Daniil remembered seeing the bottle on his nightstand one evening, Ayan informing him that it was a gift from the menkhu, if it was ever needed.

“I…Someone needed it more.” he managed to wheeze out, clearly recalling himself immediately shoving it into the Herb Bride’s hands, ordering her to find anyone else who would benefit from that horrid concoction. He still had time then, believed he could win, that he could fix himself and the town without anyone’s help. 

“Oh for God’s sake. Dankovsky, you-” Burakh let out a choked back series of insults, of which Daniil understood very little. When he was done, they simply stared at each other again, Artemy’s brows furrowed, eyes darting around, trying to find a solution. It almost amused Daniil, seeing the menkhu this distressed. But it mostly just made him sick that he was this worried over him, who should’ve been the one to solve all this and then return home a hero, leaving this wretched town behind.

Suddenly he felt his body being lifted and he managed to let out a surprised yelp as he found himself above ground, held firmly in Burakh’s arms: “W-what do you think you’re doing?!”

“Saving an idiot’s life. You’re lucky the children here have more brain cells than you and can actually take care of themselves.” Artemy huffed before he started swiftly making his way through the Steppe, regrettably leaving his gatherings behind. He’d send someone for them, after this was solved. If it was solved.

Daniil wanted to protest, fight his insults, but he could feel all strength leaving him faster and faster. It wasn’t right, the last antibiotics should’ve kept him up longer. He wanted to find a different way, maybe there were still some of those shmowders left among the children. Or at least he wanted to find a nicer place to lay down, if he was to go down here. Anything but this, having to be helped by Burakh and his made up medicine. It shouldn’t have worked. Why did it work, but his vaccine was a failure?

“Hey, stay with me, oynon. Don’t close your eyes.” Artemy’s sharp voice jolted Daniil to look up, just realising that he had in fact closed them and it was so hard to hold them open. 

“Let’s talk, to keep you up. Um, how did you-”

“How are you not afraid?” Daniil interrupted him, finally addressing his concern, “you will get infected. You, and the kids, and-and everyone else, just because you’re helping me.”

Artemy raised his eyebrow before shaking his head: “You cannot spread the disease, oynon. Not you, not me, not even the Changeling. It is…written in our stars. The Powers that Be were merciful in that, at least.”

“The Powers can go fuck themselves,” Daniil absentmindedly sighed out, prompting a quiet chuckle from his carrier, “A bit harsh, but…no, well said, Bachelor. So, do not worry. We are safe. Now we gotta make sure you are safe as well.”

“You should just leave me. I don’t…I can’t go back.”

“Dankovsky, I know what you’re trying to do,” Artemy picked up his pace, “this isn’t about you not having a place to go afterwards, not mainly at least. You’re just still too proud to be saved. Well guess what, I’m not giving you the joy of being bothered by not being able to save you.” 

Daniil stayed silent, for once. It must’ve been his state, he decided, that kept him from coming up with a solid argument. He tried focusing on holding back the cough that kept building up in his throat, while they finally arrived to a disheveled train cart.

“Murky! Are you here?!” Artemy yelled, and after a while the door gently slid open, the girl’s beady eyes staring through a crack in them: “What’s wrong with the Bachelor?”

“Many things, but mainly the untreated Sand Pest-No, kheerkhen, we talked about this, he cannot infect you or me, we’re safe! Do you still have the medicine I gave you here?”

“...Yes. I didn’t get sick, didn’t use it. Kept it hidden.”

“Good girl. Open the door, I need to give it to him immediately. Please Murky, he will die if I don’t treat him.”

Daniil could feel himself slipping again. Maybe the child would disobey, and before Burakh could get to the Panacea, he would already be gone. He felt the Pest spreading, squeezing his lungs, slithering through his vessels, into his bones, his brain. A few moments and he would-

The loud creak of the door sliding open made that thought vanish. Right away he was laid down on a small cot in the corner, gently, carefully, before Artemy turned to search for the right bottle, following Murky’s directions. He could barely understand their words, his mind swimming like never before. He decided it was the trek to find Burakh that did him in. He could’ve just left it be, but no, he had to seek the Haruspex out, to let him know how much he destroyed his life. The life he was now trying to save.

A big hand gently lifted Daniil’s head, while another held a flask to his lips. He registered something resembling an order to drink before the bottle was tipped and its contents spilled into his mouth.

The bitterness overpowered him and he would’ve immediately spat it out, had the hands not quickly covered his mouth, sealing it shut. He grimaced, staring up at the man in front of him, whose eyes shone in the shadows of the cart, pleading with Dankovsky for his cooperation.

“Swallow it, emshen. All will be fixed,” Artemy whispered, desperation in his voice. Daniil knew he wanted to reject, to not give in. He would not stoop so low as to be saved by the likes of him-

Those thoughts disappeared immediately, as his body acted first and the fluid was swiftly swallowed, the taste and texture prompting him to cough again. The hands were lifted from his mouth and the menkhu leaned away, letting out a deep sigh of relief.

Once the coughing fit came to an end, Daniil slowly eased himself back onto the cot, feeling a pleasant warmth spread through his body, rushing to meet its opponent.

"Stay down, okay? You can rest now, the Panacea will start working soon. We'll take care of all necessary things."

"Burakh-"

"Shh, there's nothing to worry about," Artemy carefully covered him with a blanket, "just rest, Daniil." His voice was so calm now, soft and caring, in a way Daniil had seldom heard. Did something change the Haruspex? Or was he always like this, just not in his presence?

Thinking became too difficult. Dankovsky closed his eyes, feeling all the exhaustion pile up, pushing him towards sleep. Before he drifted away, he could hear Artemy instructing Murky, listing off what had to be brought for the Bachelor.

Chapter Text

The last days of the plague dragged on, and perhaps it was only the constant rush of adrenaline fueled by the many tasks he'd been given that saved the Bachelor from completely succumbing to the pain. It carved its way through his whole body, from every cut, bullet hole or burn, right into his very core, where the Sand Pest fed on it and only worsened his state, seizing his muscles and clouding his mind.

He tried to take care of his wounds, but supplies were low and, after learning about Thanatica's fall, his will to live even lower. So he bandaged this, haphazardly sutured that, just enough to stop the bleeding. The antibiotics kept infection away, even if they made him that much more exhausted and delirious. But it all kept him moving. If nothing, he had to see this nightmare end. Part of him needed to know if the people would survive. Only then he could leave this hopeless world behind.

Daniil's consciousness came and went, whirling nightmares plaguing his sleep, ones he could not wake up from on his own. Sometimes he registered voices around him, felt himself being moved, observed, and discussed. Every time he came to, his heart beat a little more normally, his throat didn't seize in a cough, his muscles felt lighter, easier to move. He could feel the Pest leaving, and in his semi-conscious state, he could feel nothing but joy because of it.

It was a cold sensation, gently grazing his abdomen which finally fully woke him up. He slowly opened his eyes, confused by the feeling, when the cold shifted and something sharp pressed against his skin.

Daniil immediately shot up to move. They were cutting him, his mind panicked, came for his insides, fresh blood was best for the tinctures-

A giant hand quickly gripped his shoulder, stopping his movement. Daniil looked up in terror, mumbling pleas to spare his life, his body stiff in shock.

"Calm down, oynon. It's just me," a soft voice echoed in his head and soon his vision cleared, creating a full picture of Artemy Burakh, his face just inches from Daniil’s, illuminated by warm tones of sunlight. He was leaning over the doctor’s body, in his hand-scissors, simple scissors, stopped in the middle of cutting a stitch. The Haruspex waited, deep eyes scanning his patient, who after a moment put the situation together and slowly relaxed his body, letting Burakh get back to work.

"How...How long was I…" Daniil managed to let out, his voice raspy and quiet, it almost hurt to speak.

"A few days. Don't worry, you didn't miss anything big. Once you were out, I just took care of your wounds, there were plenty of them, luckily they're healing nicely," Artemy finished with the removal and carefully inspected the fixed wound, sitting back on a stool next to the bed before he gave the other a nervous look, "I...Please don't be mad at me. I had to treat all your injuries."

"...What are you talking about-" Daniil froze again, realizing how he had to be treated when he was out. He gulped and looked down, where he saw his shirt off, the wound on his abdomen clear of stitches now, the cut on his chest…

"I nearly didn't notice it, but it was quite deep, and it would've got infected if I didn't treat it whole. I-if it makes it better, no one else knows-that probably doesn't...I understand I should've asked, but-"

"I was out. And you had to," the Bachelor sighed, cutting Artemy off. Of course he was mad, furious even, what an unacceptable breach of privacy, but now there was just no energy for dealing with it. At least he reached and quickly pulled the covers over himself, there was no need for Burakh to look on for longer than was necessary. 

"How do you feel?" the healer asked, stirring the conversation in a different direction. Surprising, but Daniil could only be grateful for no prying questions.

"Not on the brink of dying. It...It feels odd."

"I can imagine." Artemy let out a chuckle, prompting Daniil to notice just how relieved he looked now. His shoulders were relaxed, skin flushed with life, eyes shining without worry. It was his first time seeing the Haruspex like this. It wasn't a bad sight.

"The army is gone, completely. Finally. Supplies are slowly getting back, the Abattoir is full of workers again, the rubble has been mostly cleaned, it's all...Coming back to normal. Heh, I can't wait to see you witness the town in all its glory. If...If you stay here, a while, at least." Daniil raised an eyebrow at Haruspex's words, before he slowly hoisted himself up to sit, minding the covers and the bandaged areas of his body. It felt good to be on the same eye level as his...attending physician? That sounded wrong, but it was probably the best description now.

"I...I don't know yet. I need to heal up first, and then...I need to think it through."

"Of course...Well, um, if you want, you can stay here, for the time being. We took you to my house, had a clean spare room. I just-I thought that taking you back to Stillwater wasn't the best idea, after…" he fell quiet and Daniil could only nod in agreement, grief over what happened taking over his thoughts again. He couldn’t even manage to finish his work for her.

They both sat in silence, Daniil only looked around, observing the room. It was small, but cozy, with some decent older wallpaper and sturdy looking furniture. His bag sat atop a table, the stains that spotted it seemingly gone. 

"Well, I'll be off," Artemy broke the silence, standing up with a sigh, "I've got some matters to attend to, Stakh surely misses my company, and maybe even my medical assistance with the patients. Your clothes are in the wardrobe, I tried to fix them as best as possible, hopefully you don't mind. And there should be some food down in the kitchen, if you feel good enough to eat. But do not push yourself, please. I’ll try to come back as soon as possible."

Daniil nodded, silent as the Haruspex turned to leave, before he forced himself to swallow his pride.

"Burakh," he let out, making Artemy stop and look back. Daniil hesitated, mulling over his words for a moment before he settled for a quick "Thank you."

The addressee blinked in surprise, then smiled softly, visibly flattered by Dankovsky's show of gratitude.

"All in a day's work, doctor.”

How long has he sat there? Just a moment, a few minutes, or hours, nearly the whole day spent sitting on a soft, comfortable bed, staring at the wallpaper on the opposite wall? As if the gentle shapes of flowers and leaves would help him put his thoughts together.

His mind was clear now. The delirium caused by the Pest was gone, his brain free of the suffocation. So why was it still so hard to collect himself?

Daniil gently rubbed his temples, frowning at the desperation growing inside of him. What could he do? He had to go back home, but would that even be possible? Thanatica was burned, his colleagues certainly killed with it or scrutinized beyond belief. Could he show his face in the Capital without being prosecuted?

He let out a frustrated sound before slowly sliding from under the covers, taking a while to steady himself before he managed to stand up. He wavered a little bit, taking a few careful steps before he caught onto the wardrobe, glad for the support. He gently swung the door open, granting him a view of his clothes, neatly folded on one of the shelves. A glimpse of his reflection was caught, illuminating from a large mirror on the inner side of the wardrobe door, and he quickly turned away, his hand sliding among the clothes to find the first thing to put on. A few curses escaped his lips as he tugged the tight fabric on, grazing against his still aching injuries. In the end he managed to tie it up, letting out a heavy sigh of relief as he finally dared to observe himself.

If Daniil ever saw someone else like this (and he had many times during his studies), he'd be sure they were one foot in the grave, just moments before disappearing. But there he stood himself, body shriveled up and weak, bones even more prominent under his almost translucent skin, which was riddled with splotches of red and purple from his injuries. He looked like this, a walking corpse, while still being very much alive.

His fingers gently prodded the skin around his unbandaged wounds, inspecting the Haruspex's handiwork. The skin still swelled a little, but it was only a sign of correct healing, some of the scars already catching their lighter tint. He was almost impressed by how well they all were treated. "Of course he did well, he's a surgeon," Daniil reminded himself, stepping closer to take a look at his face instead. Aside from the sunken cheeks and dry lips, he considered himself to be looking rather well under the circumstances, that particular spark in his dark eyes back again. He turned his head up, fingers running over his neck. No black veins, not even a hint of swelling. 

He couldn't hold back a short, relieved laugh, a sound he had not heard himself make in what felt like years. Daniil Dankovsky was still alive, and even if he did not have anything to his name anymore and was stuck in this wretched town, in that moment the instinctual joy of survival overtook his whole being.

When his laughter died down, he took a deep breath, frowning at the sensation building up inside of his stomach. Burakh said there should be something to eat, right? Well he was not going to pass up his offer. He first moved to his bag, checking if everything was where it should be before he got back to the wardrobe to dress. He was impressed by how clean his clothes were; shirt snow white again, the tears in his coat carefully sewn, his shoes shined like new. He frowned at the implication that that was another thing Artemy had done for him, and made a reluctant mental note to thank him later. God, he hated that.

The floorboards creaked as the Bachelor stepped out of his room, looking around to find a way to the kitchen. He was rather surprised by the cleanliness of the interior, wooden clad walls decorated by frames with dried herbs or crude drawings, signed by who he could only assume must've been Murky. Daniil huffed and continued his search, he didn't even think to realize the children would probably be around. During the outbreak they stuck to Burakh like ants to sugar and now it could probably only continue.

As he slowly descended the stairs, he prayed that no one was home. Yes, Artemy had seen him at probably his worst, but even before him Daniil had to get his persona back. Bachelor Dankovsky had to return, to command respect and dazzle with his knowledge. But that would take some time, time he feared he would not have.

His fear was confirmed, as he immediately heard someone shuffling around in one of the rooms downstairs. A terrified thought struck him - what if it was a burglar? He couldn't hear any familiar voices, and there was no way the thieves were all caught, some could still be prowling around, breaking into houses, even Artemy's-

He quickly patted his coat, shuddering when he couldn't find anything of use. As his eyes darted around, they stopped on a heavy looking vase on a small cupboard, which slid perfectly into his hand. He took a shaky breath and steadied himself, moving as quietly as possible into what he now deemed to be the living room. As his eyes fell across the small couch and armchair, the overfilled bookshelf or the old radio on the table, he realized he could not see any intruder. 

"Oh look, the Bachelor’s alive."

Chapter Text

Daniil's body moved before his mind recognized the voice coming from behind him. When it did, he panicked, knowing his arm which clutched the heavy vase was already swung in a set direction. And he could not stop it.

His whole being suddenly seized, not by his own command but in pain, as it sparked from the many injuries he somehow forgot to take into accord. He let out a pained gasp, the vase dropping from his hand, he could already see it shattering on the floor, oh how would he explain this to Artemy-

He bent over, eyes shut as he tried to cope with the pain, ready to hear the vase's impact. But it didn't come. He only heard a heavy huff, followed by a sound of the vase being gently put down.

"Damn Dankovsky, I did not know you had this much hatred for me," the voice giggled at him, making him grit his teeth before he straightened his posture, giving himself (hopefully) an air of authority as he opened his eyes and looked down, "What are you doing here?"

Clara wasn't any better or any worse. She just was, exactly as she had been for all twelve days of the plague. Her clothes were maybe a bit cleaner, her skin a bit less sickly pale. But other than that, she was still the same; she especially still had one of those playfully mocking looks on her face, this particular one she only ever seemed to put on around Daniil and it irritated him to no end.

"I'm resting here. Because someone decided to take up the vacant room."

"Resting? Then why were you-I highly doubt Burakh lets you stay around while he's gone."

"As a matter of fact, he does. No matter how dense he is, he at least has some human decency, unlike you."

"Why you-How could you even blame me for taking up the room? I was still recovering from the Pest!"

"Oh yeah, and who's fault is that, huh?" Clara smirked gently when Daniil froze before she started circling him, “Who made the townspeople so nervous? Oh, the venerable Bachelor is sick, he will surely infect others! Burakh had to shield you so hard, just so the more fearful folk wouldn’t storm the house and throw you on the pyre. And who wasn’t scared, was worried, you hurt yourself so much, it’s a miracle you’re still standing here like this. And I’m not even talking about the damage you did to the menkhu. Just because you were too proud to accept your failure and let yourself be helped!” 

She stopped and threw her arms out to accentuate her point, watching as a shadow of guilt swept over Daniil’s face. He opened his mouth, but immediately closed it again, looking away in embarrassment.

“There you go, finally a normal response from you. Are you happy with yourself-”

“What damage did I do to Burakh?” he spoke up, catching Clara a bit off guard. She crossed her arms, her brows furrowing gently, not in anger, but in…it could’ve been some strange form of compassion.

“He was worried sick for you, Dankovsky. Would just sit next to you all day and night, checking the wounds and making sure the cure was working,” she sighed out, studying Daniil as he took it all in, “They had to force him to take sleeping pills, just so he would stop moping next to you and get some rest. It did a number on him, even though he can hide it well.” 

Daniil stayed silent, his thoughts whirling around. Why would Burakh do that? Yes, they did start out well enough, but he had distanced himself so much over the outbreak, even pondered about taking the Haruspex out, just so he wouldn’t mess up his plans. Artemy must’ve known that, must’ve held the same animosity towards Daniil, but instead…He did this?

“You’re…You’re joking, right?” He stammered out.

“What? Of course not, what would I get out of lying? The sight of you being absolutely embarrassed by your actions?” Clara laughed, making Dankovsky groan into his palms. After a while she stopped and hopped closer to him, leaning to look into his lowered face, “He did all that for you. You better take something from that and bury it deep inside you.”

“What do you-”

“Just stop being such a prick! To everyone! Start taking care of yourself too, you really don’t look good, and nothing can make a doctor happier than his patient getting better, wouldn’t you agree?”

“I…I suppose that is a correct assumption.” Daniil muttered, avoiding Clara’s smug face as he felt the heat build up in his cheeks. 

“Well, I have rested enough and my great wisdom has been dispersed. Have fun here, I gotta go,” she broke the short silence, skipping out of the living room towards a window at the back of the hall. Daniil stepped after her with a raised eyebrow, “Why the window?”

“For the adventurous feel, silly! And so no one would see me. Also, don’t tell Burakh I was here, or I’ll curse you to forget all your big latin words,” she grinned, swiftly climbing out.

“...But you said Artemy let you-oh, dammit Clara, you little-!” he tried to catch up to her, but the window was swiftly closed right in his face, the Changeling giving him a little wave before running off.

Daniil let out a frustrated sigh, walking to pick the vase up and put it back in its place. He was about to fall into another whirlwind of thoughts, but his stomach churned again, reminding him of why he came downstairs in the first place. 

Okay. Food first, then he could think about just how much of a mess he got himself into, he nodded and stepped into the kitchen in search of some sustenance.

"Will dinner be soon? I have to go back to Notkin, before the sun sets, gotta gather enough wood for the campfire."

"It will be when it will be. Sticky, I can't make the stew cook much faster-Murky, dear, could you open the door? The key's in my left pocket," Artemy adjusted the bag in his arms, watching as Murky fished the keys out and stood on her toes to reach the keyhole.

"You can reach the door now, see? I told you, you're getting taller each day," he smiled as the door opened and the three of them stepped in. He was immediately stopped by the aroma of coffee, floating from the living room. He gave the bag to Sticky and nudged them both to go unpack in the kitchen, before he slid his shoes off and quietly moved to the living room.

The Bachelor's eyes were already fixed on the doorway as he entered. The man sat up, moving from his more slacked, relaxed position in the armchair. He seemed in good enough shape at first glance, expression full of thought once again and his clothes fitted nicely on his frame. His hands were free of the confines of his gloves now, the left held a small cup, the right a thick book.

"I thought we didn't have any coffee left," the menkhu inquired, examining the steaming dark liquid in Dankovsky's cup. The guest cleared his throat, setting the book aside, "I went out for a walk. Found it in one of the shops, I figured it wouldn't hurt to have it here-For you, I mean. It can come in handy." 

"I don’t...Sure, okay. Thank you," Artemy moved to sit on the sofa next to Daniil, his expression growing more worried as he searched the doctor's body more carefully for any sign of fatigue or injury, "So you were out? Did you feel good enough for it?"

"Yes. Yes, I kind of...put myself together, but once I had, I couldn't just sit here. So I went out, looked around. Visited the Stamatins, I...Had to make sure they were okay."

"And are they?"

"They...They have each other. Andrey will take care of Peter, as he always has. And if something does happen...Well, I'm a few houses away from them now." he managed to put on a soft smile, which did nothing to hide just how worried he was. 

"Well...I'm sure they'll be fine, they are strong, capable. Especially together," Artemy nodded, hoping to at least ease the doctor of some stress. It seemed to work, as Dankovsky returned the nod and went back to sipping his coffee, his brows a little less knotted now.

Yet there were still words hanging in the air, ones that both men were hesitant to acknowledge and let out. Artemy finally mustered up the strength to start, "Hey, could we-"

"Daaaad! The stew!"

The menkhu let out a heavy sign and reluctantly stood up, "Well, you hear that, I am desperately needed elsewhere...Can I talk to you later? Just about how you're feeling, health wise and such."

"Of-of course...Do you need help with that?" Daniil nodded towards the kitchen, catching Artemy a bit off guard, "You...want to help me with cooking?"

"Don't look so surprised Burakh, I am quite a skilled cook. And...I mean, I should repay you somehow. For-for the help." 

"Hmm...Alright, oynon. At least the kids will be convinced you're not here to poison us."

"That's what they think?"

"You haven't made the best impression over your stay here so far," Artemy chuckled as he led Dankovsky into the kitchen, where the kids were sitting around the table, hypnotizing the unpacked ingredients as if they would magically turn into the stew under their gaze.

Their eyes turned to the Bachelor as he stepped in, which made his words freeze in his throat for a moment before he pulled himself together and gently waved his hand in a greeting, "Hello...Kids."

"The Bachelor promised to help us with the dinner, so you two better be on your best behavior," Artemy spoke up when an uncomfortable silence fell before nudging Daniil towards the counter, "Let's get to it, they'll find their voices." 

He showed Daniil where everything was, assuring him a couple of times that everything was clean and in no way contaminated. "Who do you take me for, oynon? You keep forgetting who's the surgeon here."

"I just thought-you weren't too careful about sanitization before."

"Don't say that. I was as careful as possible. It was...A desperate time," Artemy muttered over the vegetables he was cutting, "If it makes you feel safer, I have plenty of disinfectant and a few pairs of gloves for operating now, all squeaky clean, surely up to your capital standards."

"T-that's not what I-" 

"How did you get infected, if you care so much about cleanliness?" Sticky's voice sounded off behind them and both men turned, Artemy shooting a warning glance at his son. Not now, there was no need to pester Dankovsky about that while he was still in this state-

"I-I ran into a plague cloud," Daniil sighed, carefully pushing the cut ingredients to the pot, "by accident. I got careless, searching this mugger I...found, and I didn't notice the cloud. And it all just kind of spiraled from that." 

"Why didn't you take dad's cure?"

"I...I wanted to find another way-"

Sticky was clearly about to shower him with more questions, but Artemy quickly waved the spatula towards the door, "How about you two go play? We'll call you once the stew is done." The kids exchanged glances before they reluctantly hopped down from their chairs and left the room, leaving the two doctors alone again.

"I'm sorry, he's just curious. Still full of thoughts about the plague, it'll get better with time."

"He is right though," Daniil frowned at the pot with boiling water, as if it had caused all his problems, "I got infected just because of my stupidity. I nearly died because of it too. I should've been more careful, how was I this reckless-"

"Stop that," Artemy sharply let out, freezing the Bachelor, "Many people got infected. Hell, I was very close to it at times as well. And you just…Wanted to solve it yourself. There's nothing wrong with that, no sign of weakness or failure. What's important is that you survived."

He could already see Dankovsky trying to come up with an argument, so he swiftly fished out a box with spices from one of the shelves and shoved it into the other's hands, "You can take care of the taste, just don't overdo it, the kids get very picky about that."

"Wha-But what if it doesn't taste right in the end?"

"Then you will rightfully earn the title of 'Poisoner Dankovsky'," Artemy smirked and went to take care of the rest of the ingredients, letting Daniil nervously pick out the spice glasses and try his best to not ruin the dish.

Putting Dankovsky on spice duty was an idea Artemy felt very proud of. The city doctor stayed focused on it the whole time they were cooking, very keen on not overdoing it with any of the tastes, only speaking when asking if the kids were alright with this or that spice. He could see the gears turning in Daniil's head, for once not pondering the plague. It must've been a great relief for him, even if he wouldn't acknowledge it. 

It was relieving for Artemy as well. He could feel all the sleepless nights catching up to him, but seeing Daniil so set on his task, his brows furrowed in that clear minded state of deep thought, it made all his exhaustion worth it. He kept looking him over, in hope to make sure the discolorations were truly gone. They were, and soon Daniil noticed his looks and assured the menkhu himself that he was feeling fine. 'No need to concern yourself, Burakh', he repeated with his signature tone of confidence, eventually making Artemy accept it.

“How…How was your day, anyway?” Daniil looked up from the glasses, making the other shrug, “Nothing too special. Ran some errands, got groceries, found the kids at Capella’s after quite a while of searching. Oh, I also went to help Stakh, he asked a lot about how you’re doing. Had to convince him I’m not sloppy with taking care of you,” the menkhu sighed, not noticing the momentary paleness in Daniil’s face before he turned to look elsewhere, “I-I see. Well, I’m sure he must’ve believed eventually. Given that I am alive.”

“I suppose that is true. I did pull you out of a quite miserable state. No-no offense.”

“None taken, Burakh. I…I cannot disprove that which everyone saw very clearly.”

It wasn't long before the house filled up with the smell of food, and both could see the children stepping by the door, eagerly waiting to be allowed in. They stared at Dankovsky, who carefully tasted the stew, a warm smile spreading on his face for a moment as he nodded, "I think it should be done."

"Well, you heard the doctor. To the table, khyygedi!" Artemy exclaimed, and in a second both Sticky and Murky were on their chairs.

"Do you feed them regularly, Burakh? They act as if they haven't eaten in ages." Daniil shook his head and seated himself on a vacant chair as Artemy gave each a bowl, "Running around Gorkhon all day takes a lot of energy, emshen. They need plenty to replenish it-careful you two, it's still hot," he warned the kids before grabbing his own bowl and carefully tasting the stew. Daniil didn't touch his just yet, instead he watched the family, nervously waiting for the verdict of the taste. He saw it already; Murky would spit it out in disgust, Sticky would list off how it could've been done better, Artemy would try his best to hide how much he hated the taste. Like everything else lately, this would be an utter failure-

"It's good," one of the voices peeped, making Daniil look up in surprise. Murky sank lower under his gaze, but she kept eating with vigor. Just like the rest of them. Sticky tried to go on about some gastronomical facts the dinner evoked in him, but Artemy quickly made him stop talking with his mouth full, rewarding Daniil with a wide smile before returning to his own meal.

Dankovsky sat still, his brain processing the fact that he, who had lately failed nearly all he tried to do, finally managed to do something...Right. Yes, it was something as insignificant as cooking a good meal, but it was a start. Something.

When Artemy looked up, Daniil was eating like the rest of them, in his face a hidden, but still shining expression of accomplishment.

It suited the Bachelor.

Chapter Text

“Will he stay here long?” the bundle of blankets muttered, prompting Artemy to look up from the lamp he was about to turn off. Murky wrapped herself in a tight cocoon, only her face stuck out, eyes staring her adoptive father down as he shrugged, “Until he feels well enough. Why, you don’t want him here? I thought you liked the stew.”

“Yes, but…He’s mean. Has been the whole time. Made the other kids like him, but he never liked me or Sticky.”

“But he wasn’t mean today, was he?” Artemy gently lowered himself to sit beside Murky, gently swiping a tuft of hair from her face, “people change, kheerkhen. Even someone as mean as the Bachelor has some good inside of him. He just…Didn’t have the chance to show it to you yet. Give him time.”

“...But if he lets snakes into the house, you’ll throw him out, right?” she spoke up in a very serious tone, making Artemy chuckle, “Of course. Not a single snake will slither over our doorstep, I promise you,” he gave her a gentle kiss on the forehead before wishing a good night and turning the lamp off.

As he left the kids’ room, his eyes fell to a line of light, coming from under the guest bedroom door. A pang of nervousness struck him, he should check up on Dankovsky’s health, whether he wanted it or not. Then again, who knows if he would let him in, and another breach of privacy, however justified, wouldn’t be too great for their relationship. In whatever state it was…

In the end the outlook of a professional won over and he stepped to the door, letting out a sigh before gently knocking, “Oynon? May I step inside?”

He could hear a bit of commotion from inside, a hurried clank of something before Dankovsky’s voice beckoned him to come in. He slowly entered, taking in the scene before him. Daniil was seated by the table, illuminated only by the small lamp on it. He was still in a hurry to fully button up his shirt, which hung loose on him and bathed his frame in waves of white fabric. His bag stood right next to him, Artemy managed to get a glimpse of a vial and some papers, before Dankovsky quickly closed it with a warning glare, "What do you want, Burakh?"

"I...I only wanted to see how you were doing. You agreed to that, remember?"

"I have done no such thing-oh. Wait, before…"

"Before dinner, yes. So, how are you doing?" Artemy dared to close the door and step closer, as much as the doctor allowed him to before his body stiffened in discomfort.

"As well as you would expect. What else could I say?" 

"What else-Does anything hurt? Have you checked the wounds, are they all alright? Do you feel feverish, or too tired-"

"Everything is fine. You can leave," Daniil snapped, making Artemy go quiet. They stared at each other in silence, just as they had so many times before. And still the Haruspex towered over the Bachelor, both knowing that he was in the right, no matter which angle they looked from.

Artemy was sure of what would happen now. He's seen it far too often in the past two weeks; as soon as Daniil Dankovsky was beaten in a debate (which seemed to normally happen very rarely), he made sure to not give the other party assurance of their win. So he often simply left, or quickly diverted the topic into something he was sure to best the other. But there was no exit nor a different topic to escape to now, and as much as Artemy would've enjoyed seeing the Bachelor admit his defeat before, now he felt no accomplishment from cornering him. 

So he would back down, he decided as he watched the doctor desperately holding an unmoving frown on his face. Give Daniil at least this small victory, which he clearly needed. He didn’t need to hear his acceptance too soon. Artemy let out something resembling a goodbye and turned to leave, but a quick "Burakh, wait." stopped his movement.

Dankovsky stood up, the lamplight accentuating the lines grazing his face, which twisted in that mix of guilt and nervousness that was so alien on the doctor's skin. Artemy stayed silent, hoping to nudge Daniil into spilling his thoughts. At this point it could only help.

"I met Clara. When...when I was outside."

"Oh? Yes, she stayed around, mostly she's with the children, sometimes helps Stakh out with stuff. Why are you mentioning her now?"

"She...She told me how you took care of me. When I was recovering. Is-is it true?" Daniil stuttered, seemingly almost afraid to hear the answer. 

"What did she tell you? You know her, all trickery and such."

"She-Wait. No, let's-let's put all this together first," Daniil took a deep breath, sorting his thoughts, "You know that I haven't been...the nicest to you. Or the others."

"Of course I know."

"I wanted Block to destroy the town, I thought it would be the only true way of eradicating the plague."

"You were very insistent about that."

"I wanted to kill you at first! A-and then I asked a butcher to go after you! I wanted to make sure you wouldn't interfere with my plans, did you know that?!" he snapped, a part of him hoping to see Artemy react with shock, anger, sadness. Anything to break this horrible, unnamed mix of emotion that hung between them.

But the man just stood there, scratching at his stubble as he nodded, "It is very easy to get a butcher to talk if you know the price, especially for a menkhu. And besides, secrets don't stay hidden long in the Termitary."

Daniil's shoulders fell as he stared at the Haruspex, so unphased by his confession. He felt something build up in his throat and quickly tried to hide it by more words, "So why...Why did you do that? Why did you stay up all day and night, just-just to make sure I would be alright? That is not what a doctor normally does."

"That is what a doctor normally does. Especially when it concerns someone they care about."

Burakh's words cut through Daniil's core and left him numb. His mouth went dry and his chest tightened, whole being seized by shock. Care ? No, that was impossible. They knew each other for barely two weeks, and most of that time was spent actively opposing each other. There should have been only the deepest hatred for Daniil in Artemy's soul. There was no other way, how could he say that he cared, it must've been some cruel joke.

In his frozen state he did not notice the other walk closer, and only came to when Artemy's hand was gently placed on his shoulder, warmth seeping through the fabric. Daniil did not move away, he did not dare move, only looked up to meet the gaze of two blue eyes, the gentle glow of the lamp making them nearly shine against the shadows of the room. 

“I’m sorry that you can’t see why I would do it. It’s…Sad, that you were taught to think this way. So let me be simple; no matter how horrible you have been, you did want to help the town, in your own way. You saved people. You inspired hope, even for me at times. That's what matters most," Artemy fell silent for a while, thinking of the best words while Dankovsky slowly eased out of his initial shock, yet remained still.

“If you want an objective measure - I would do the same for the kids. For my friends. For Clara, if we are to compare in the circle of us three. There is no way I would simply leave you like this, when you were already at rock bottom, and any kind of disruption could’ve ended your life. It would be a great shame to lose you like this, Daniil.” 

Daniil tried to speak, but the words just wouldn’t come. He kept staring into those eyes, so filled with care and worry, looking at him, not through him, not past him - right at him, acknowledging his entire existence, all his dreams and fears, all his accomplishments and failures. Everything that Daniil Dankovsky stood for was inspected by Artemy Burakh and was accepted, deemed worth saving, no matter the cost.

He let out a shaky breath and lowered his head, trying to steady himself as he felt the myriad of emotions finally overpower him. As he did, Artemy seemed to remember himself as well and gently let go of his shoulder, backing away to give him some space. I overstepped, he thought with a pang of guilt in his gut, I overstepped and he will get even worse. Great work, Burakh.

"I...I can't check the burn on my back too well," The doctor's voice was quiet, choked back as he looked up at the Haruspex after a while. Artemy noticed his glassy eyes, his brows furrowed as he visibly tried his best to calm down against his body. He himself took a while to realize what Dankovsky was saying before nodding, "O-oh. I see, I'll take a look at it. If-if that is alright with you."

"Yes. I...I don't want it to turn worse again,” Daniil gulped and turned his back to Artemy, carefully unbuttoning his shirt again, his hands shaking, "Just don't move the binding, at all...Please."

The white shirt slowly fell from Daniil's shoulders and revealed a stripe of fabric, tightly fixed over his upper torso. Artemy stared at it for a moment before he muttered a quick apology and moved closer, gently taking off the bandage that covered the burn, right in the middle of Dankovsky's lower back. The doctor’s skin was still quite cold, pale and tense as he clearly did his best to not recoil from Artemy’s touch. He tried to be as careful as possible, uncovering the wound which shone in stark contrast to its surroundings. An encounter with an Arsonist that Daniil escaped at the last second. It wasn't too bad, thankfully, but Artemy figured it must've hurt like hell, especially when not properly treated. Now the skin seemed to go back to normal, still raw and would surely stay scarred, but in no danger of getting infected.

“It’s looking good, will be fine. I think your coat suffered more damage compared to this,” Artemy tried to lift the mood, the corners of his mouth falling back down when the other gave just an absentminded nod.

"You...didn't ask about this ," Daniil inquired, stopping Artemy in searching through his pockets for a roll of bandages. His voice was back to normal now, if a bit subdued with a hint of surprise.

"I didn't think I was in a position to ask…Am I?"

"You aren't," he quickly exclaimed, pressing the shirt folded in his arms closer to his chest, almost on instinct, "I just...it surprised me. I thought you would. Or that you would tell someone else. Being from here and all." 

"...Bachelor Dankovsky, are you calling me an uneducated villager?"

There was a moment of silence before Artemy burst out laughing and Daniil felt his whole face turn hot, “T-that’s not what I said!”

“It is! And with that tone! By Boddho-is that what you really think of me?”

“I’m not-Goddammit, stop laughing, Burakh!” The doctor tried to sound angry, but Artemy could hear it. He could hear Dankovsky smile before even he couldn’t resist Artemy’s infectious laughter and joined in. The air in the room completely changed, both men suddenly free of the heaviness their previous conversation brought. As they slowly began to calm down, Artemy patted his last pocket, letting out another chuckle as he fished out the desired bandages.

“You know, I have been around. I know that I’m not in any position to ask you about something so personal, nor spread it around,” he started, rebandaging the burn, “And in the end, does it even matter? I don't think it does. What matters is that you're alive and healing up. Let’s leave it at that, what do you say? But...If you ever want to talk about this or-or anything else really, I'm all ears." 

"...That is surprisingly very nice of you, Burakh," Daniil turned his head, carefully pulling his shirt back up when Artemy nodded, "I have to be nice to you, emshen. You have to learn it from someone, after all."

"How dare you, I can be nice," he pouted, "You just haven't had the chance to see it, with all this plague business. And you always being insufferable."

"Oh? And now I’m less of a nuisance?”

“Hmm…Slightly, yes. So slightly only a trained eye of a doctor can see it.”

“Well then, I am eagerly looking forward to your niceness. Hope it’s not as microscopic as my lack of insufferability," Artemy smirked as Daniil moved to face him, looking mildly annoyed but otherwise relaxed. A gentle smile completely softened his expression, dark eyes catching bronze hues whenever he glanced the right way towards the lamp. It was a sight which filled Artemy with a deep sense of comfort.

"I was wondering," the Haruspex started, rubbing the back of his neck, "since you're not doing too bad but not so good as to leave immediately...would you want to join me for a tour of the town tomorrow? I have some errands to run, but they're not too urgent and you know, I can show you the town better, in its full glory."

"You think I haven't seen the town well enough after twelve days of nonstop running around it?"

"Oh, you have no idea how much you've missed," Artemy chuckled and Daniil could see a twitch of nervousness in his face. He thought for a while, leaving the menkhu in uncertain silence (it almost felt deliberate to Artemy), before nodding with a sigh, "I suppose I would bore really quickly in here. Your book collection is quite subpar, I’d have to pick up some from Yulia if I planned on staying here all the time. Very well then, I will let you show me around the town, Burakh."

"Ah, great! Fantastic, I'll make sure you won't regret it. So, um, I should probably let you rest, a long day behind and ahead of us and all that. So...Good night." he nodded with a smile, turning to leave in a much better mood than when he planned to exit the room before. But again he was stopped, this time by a soft "Artemy."

Daniil felt the name leave his tongue and frowned, still so alien to call Burakh by his given name. But the man listened and looked back, eyebrows raised in surprise.

"I know I said it before, but I probably still haven't said it enough. Just...thank you. For helping me, accepting-for everything. Again." 

Artemy stood still for a moment, before his eyes sparkled and smile widened, "Don't mention it, Daniil. Now, get some good sleep, you need plenty of energy for Gorkhon."

Chapter Text

The city life was hectic and cramped. Rows upon rows of people roaming the narrow streets, tightly packed, all angry at others for having the audacity to walk out at the same time as them. The screeching of trams, clopping of horseshoes, yelling of humans, all under a duvet of smoke coming from the factories. At times, all of it became unbearable and one had to quickly seek the quiet of their home, to escape this never ending cycle.

And yet Daniil reveled in the chaos of it all. The Capital, with all its problems and ugliness, was still his home, no matter which chapter of his life he was in. It gave him opportunities, so many interesting people to meet, to debate, to research. He could spend a night in his small apartment, studying until he fell asleep on the books. He could go sit in that tiny café at the corner, where the coffee was cheap and gross, but he loved it there nonetheless. Or he could go prowling the local bars and clubs, a nighttime activity that Daniil began partaking more and more in after Andrey Stamatin threw himself into his life. The Capital's underbelly opened up to him and suddenly he could be and do whatever he wanted. Everything was possible.

And in the center of it stood Thanatica, his beloved Thanatica, which he built from the ground up and breathed life into. Life which would fight death head on, find a way to destroy its very essence and usher in a new era of humanity. He was admired for his vigor, hated for his heresy, even feared for his goal, all together made Daniil feel invincible. He would show everyone what he was capable of, he would beat the impossible foe that threatened all and with that he would set his great name in history, forever.

Daniil Dankovsky loved the city. He knew he still did, he was absolutely certain of it. So why couldn't he think of a single thing that would make him want to leave his current state? 

He pondered this while standing in tall grass, staring at the silhouette of Town-on-Gorkhon as it loomed in the distance. The wind gently played with his hair, bringing around the somewhat subdued smell of twyre, which no longer made his head pound, only caused a gentle sway of his thoughts, not completely unappreciated. 

Why was he so content with being here? Did his state play a part in it still? No, he felt fine, maybe even better than when he first arrived to the town, his body standing strong once more and his mind eased of the task he so wished to complete. 

What if he grew closer to the town? He found that very wrong, but maybe there was something to it. Gorkhon, with all the horrors that it subjected him to, its backwards tradition and practices, still somehow managed to worm its way into his heart. Whenever he saw the way people talked and helped each other, children running around carefree, all in such harmony, he couldn't help but feel a strange warmth inside of him.

Or maybe the true reason stood a few meters away from him, rough hands gently picking another blade up from the ground and bright blue eyes inspecting it. His mouth curled into a soft smile and Daniil felt that familiar jolt in his heart, one which he tried doing everything in his power to not acknowledge.

"Inhaling twyre should not come for free, oynon. Are you planning on helping out?" 

Artemy's smile formed into a playful grin as Daniil jumped at his words, stuttering out an apology before looking down, quickly searching for something worth picking up. He could feel the Haruspex watching, and when he looked up with...something in his hand, his face immediately turned red as Burakh burst into laughter.

"S-stop it! Don't tell me that this is not worth picking up!"

"Yes, if I wanted to poison someone," The Haruspex tried to calm his laughter down, running a hand over his face to wipe the forming tears in the corner of his eye.

Daniil wanted to feel angry at this buffoon, how dare he laugh at him. But all he could think about was how heartfelt Artemy's laughter was, how his dirty blonde hair shone in the sunlight, how even the faintest signs of exhaustion seemed to have disappeared from his face over those few days.

Maybe that was it. Maybe the reason for his stay was so he could see, make sure the man who saved his life would get better. Artemy was good at hiding anything that could be wrong, but Daniil was a good observer. And as his mind cleared, he could notice the bags under the menkhu's eyes or his eyebrows pinched in a moment of unwanted irritation whenever things got too hectic. And he could hear the panicked breathing coming from his room, nearly every night, as nightmares plagued Burakh's sleep.

But as the days went on, Artemy got better and better. No more did he come downstairs, visibly lacking the needed amount of sleep. His eyes caught a certain spark of clarity and his visage even grew more appealing, as he finally started to take care of himself more. Daniil was finally able to see Artemy as he had always been, when he wasn't drowning in blood and burdens of the plague.

And with the plague not causing their separation, they found themselves together more often. Walking around the town, talking, taking care of the kids or running errands became quite a pleasant routine for both. Burakh still had this insufferable aura around him, and he loved to tease Daniil very often (especially when there were others to support him), but he also knew just when to stop, when to offer a word of reassurance or when to let the doctor feel triumphant as he thought of a great comeback.

"Remember what I told you. Close your eyes and listen to the buzzing, you'll find one soon enough," Artemy was suddenly right next to him, his demeanor calm once again. Daniil let go of the plant in his hand and quickly nodded, closing his eyes just like he was instructed.

Buzzing, right. The buzzing of insects around twyre, one of the best ways to find it in the steppe. That's what Artemy told him as they departed from the house, Daniil agreeing to help out with gathering for some tinctures, which was a surprise to everyone they met on their way out of the town. Only days after the plague and the Bachelor was ready to embrace the traditional medicine he so used to despise? He came up with some weak excuse, which was such a blatant lie that no one actually dared to disprove it, all very aware of the truth themselves. All except Daniil, who buried that possibility deep inside and forbid himself from ever considering it again. A command he was not capable of carrying out.

He walked slowly, carefully, trying his best to catch the faintest buzz. How hard could it be to hear one of the most annoying sounds around? But as he slowly came to realize, the steppe was full of sensations, in which the right buzzing could easily get lost. He let out a frustrated huff and was about to open his eyes, when Artemy's hand gently grabbed his arm and turned him in a different direction. Daniil felt his breath hitch in his throat and he stood still until the hand let go, only then he started walking again.

And then he could hear it. The buzzing kept getting louder, its specific rhythm becoming more clear with each step. He slowly came to a halt, lowering his head before he dared to open his eyes. There it was, gently swaying in the wind, its red grains surprisingly hidden among the other plants. Daniil felt the corners of his lips twitch upwards as he looked up. Artemy stood beside him, hand on the other's shoulder, pride beaming from his face, "Look at you, finding your first blood twyre."

"We're not going to the laboratory?" Daniil raised an eyebrow as the two of them turned left after the bridge, walking away from the Works.

"I promised to trade Stamatin some of the twyre, figured we could grab something there after all our hard day's work," Artemy heaved the basket in his arm, now full of all kinds of greenery, "you don't mind, right?"

"No. No, of course not," Daniil shook his head, feeling unease rise in his gut. It was a perfect place to go, he would have to go there anyway, sooner or later. It was not wise to keep putting it off...

The Broken Heart pub had always been occupied, even during the worst days of the plague. Daniil figured it to be due to the sayings that twyrine could keep you from succumbing to the Pest, which he himself fell for during one of the worse days of his infection. The twins found it necessary to remind him of that horrible experience every time they met.

Now the pub roared with its usual liveliness, which for the later hour of the afternoon wasn't luckily too much yet. Artemy made a beeline straight towards the bar, greeting a few of the locals along the way. As they arrived, he exchanged a few words with the bartender, Daniil standing sheepishly next to him, looking to see if the owner was around-

"Here they are, my two new favorite gatherers! Was the harvest bountiful today?" the pub could've been completely full, but the voice of Andrey Stamatin would still overpower all. He shoo'd the bartender aside and leaned on the bar right opposite of the two, his eyes alive with curiosity as he scanned the men.

"We've managed to find some good blades. I hope you're still keeping the price we agreed on," Artemy's expression stayed neutral, causing Andrey to roll his eyes, "Come now, Burakh. Do I look like a guy who would want to scam you? Give them here."

Artemy set the basket down and gently picked out tied bundles of twyre, sorted by type. He handed them to Andrey, who took them in one hand while the other opened the cash register.

"So, how did our Daniil do? Did he find something himself?" He grinned while inspecting the herbs and Daniil felt heat rise in his face as Artemy's expression finally softened with a chuckle, "He had some difficulty in the beginning, but he did manage to find a few blades on his own."

"Ah, I am so proud of you, Danya! Your city boy persona is slowly wearing off and you’re finally getting used to our glorious twyre. Wonder what other things you'll learn here," Andrey wiggled his eyebrows, receiving a piercing glare from the doctor. 

"Here you go, Burakh, exactly what we agreed upon," a couple of bank notes and coins exchanged hands and Artemy carefully recounted them before nodding and leaving a handful of coins on the counter, "All good, thank you, Stamatin. One small bottle of twyrine now, please."

"Of course, nothing like a nice relaxing sip after a long day. Go find a seat, we'll get you all taken care of," Andrey turned to get the bottle, but a gloved hand suddenly reached and gripped his wrist. Both men turned to see Daniil, leaning over the counter to grab the owner, "Andrey, can I talk to you for a while?" he let out, and Artemy noticed Stamatin's expression turn nervous, such a strange look on him, before he nodded, "Of course, Danya."

"What's going on?" he looked down at Daniil when he let go, only to be met with a quick "Nothing, just...Why don't you find us a nice table to sit at? I'll be right with you."

"Has Mr. Stamatin stolen your company, tangher?" a slender body slid onto the seat next to Artemy, who stared towards the bar for a while more before downing the shot of twyrine he had been holding in his hand ever since he was given the bottle. 

"Won't slacking off get you in trouble?" he cringed from the taste before glancing at the herb bride, inspecting the other, still empty glass, "I am only entertaining a guest, nothing wrong with that. So, is he going to slither away?"

"It's not like he has to stay, basaghan. He's a free man, he can do whatever he wants."

"But you want him to stay, don’t you?" the girl jumped up, gliding behind the menkhu to wrap her arms around his shoulders, "you two are quite a topic in the town. Even Mother Boddho trembles in anticipation. Don't tell me you haven't shown any signs to him yet."

"That is frankly none of your business. Nor the town's. I am-We're not even-" Artemy frowned as he heard the herb bride giggle, pressing the back of her hand to his cheek, which to his dismay felt way too hot.

"You should not wait long. Tell him at least something, before he boards that train," she glanced away and took a sip from the bottle when Artemy waved his hand, slipping away from him as they saw Dankovsky distance himself from the bar, looking for their table.

"Twyrine helps to untangle the mind and the tongue, khayaala."

"Ah, there you are. That's a nice table you found," Daniil fell into the opposite chair, prompting Artemy to grab the twyrine and pour both of them a glass, "I hope your conversation with Stamatin wasn't too tiring, it would be a shame to not get to the bottom of this bottle. I-if you're not against that."

"It's a small one, we'll get through it. It's...It's going to be fine," the was a momentary melancholy in the doctor's eyes before Artemy raised his glass, "So, to what are we drinking, emshen? I'll let you pick our destiny today."

"Oh, how kind of you," Daniil let out a chuckle and pondered for a while, "How about...To the changes we’ve observed and made, among men and nature alike, against all that had been set up. Astra inclinant, sed non obligant .” 

The glasses clinked together and both downed their shot, letting out a small huff as the alcohol burned their throats. Only then Artemy dared to address the toast, “I see your elequency was not lost over all that happened. That’s good.”

“Good? Weren’t you one of those who kept pestering me about how ‘pretentious’ I sound whenever I speak like this?”

“Of course, it is incredibly annoying, that’s a fact. But when you speak like this, it means that you’re in your element. Back to your old, healthy, insufferable self.” 

"Oh go to hell, Burakh."

"Been there and trust me, it is quite overrated."

As time went on and the twyrine bottle got emptier, the air between the doctors lost all possible tension and soon they bantered like old friends, telling stories and debating both basic and unconventional topics, even reminiscing about the outbreak with a distance which allowed a sort of humourous outlook on certain aspects of it. 

It was as Daniil went on about some academia practice that Artemy finally mustered up the courage to ask, “Hey, what did you and Stamatin talk about?”

“I just think that we should be allowed to-What?” Daniil stopped, taken aback by the question.

“It seemed kind of urgent, is something wrong?” he watched the Bachelor down the shot in his hand and set it on the table, a shadow forming over his face. Artemy began to panic and was about to apologize, it was only between them, he shouldn’t have asked, why did he keep screwing up like this-

“I asked Andrey to help me find out about the situation in the Capital,” Daniil started, looking up to meet Artemy’s eyes, “after I woke up. He was sending one of his men to buy something there, look around, and he agreed to try and find out if Thanatica was completely gone or how I am thought of there now, after what happened.”

“Oh, I see. That makes sense. And…How does it look?”

“Thanatica…It was truly destroyed, my coworkers who were there at the time all killed. Direct resistance against the Powers that Be, that’s how they justified their murder. That asshole Telman made sure all our research was burned, preparations broken, our names slandered,” Daniil ran a hand over his face, his eyes looking at nothing, glassy under a wave of emotion seeped in twyrine, “but not everything is lost. The names of the remaining scientists were scrutinized beyond belief, mine the most, of course. But we are not to be outright persecuted. Most will be able to find work somewhere in the scientific field, clear their name, start anew. But our goal is…It is gone. Thanatica fell and its ashes were scattered, and with it our dream of defeating death itself.”

“I’m…I’m so sorry, Daniil. I know how much it meant to you,” Artemy started, about to reach out but halted his movement as the other stared blankly at the now empty bottle between them.

“Some of the equipment was salvaged, still functional. The Powers put it up for safe keeping, and the owner can collect it within a certain time period. If I get to it in time, I can sell it and make at least something out of it, split the earnings between the remaining scientists. It’s the least I can do to apologize for letting them down.”

“Oh. That’s good, then. It’s something, at least. You’ll get well enough to-to go back, and, I mean, before you go we could get some more things done, there’s some celebrations coming up and you and I could-”

“Artemy.” Daniil’s voice stopped him and the Haruspex looked down, his hopes shattered when he noticed the look of sadness and defeat on the Bachelor’s face.

“The safekeeping period expires in a few days. I…I’m boarding the train tomorrow.”

Chapter Text

The train cart wheels screeched as they were moved, slowly joined to the locomotive whose engine-driver impatiently hypnotized his pocket watch, eager to get the train finally out. He peeked out of the window, scanning the small crowd in front of one of the joined carts. Those weren't his passengers though. There would be only one leaving this town today, and he was just approaching.

The pair walked in silence, occasionally broken by the kids behind them asking something. Only the taller one could muster a reply, often short and not at all what they were asking for, his mind occupied by reading the other's face.

What was Daniil Dankovsky thinking about? He walked with his usual stride, bag firmly clutched in hand, posture tall and confident. His face was neutral as ever, lips tightly shut and brows furrowed in his usual thoughtful way. That all was clear to see.

But his eyes were alive with emotion, they betrayed his calm demeanor and Artemy could see in all too well. One moment they were focused towards the train station, the next they were darting around, as if Daniil wanted to take it all in once more, so he could remember every sensation. And sometimes they met with Artemy's gaze, just for a fleeting moment, in which both knew there was still so much to be said. But then Daniil quickly broke the bond and turned away.

It was as they were coming up to the train that Daniil finally broke the silence, "What are they doing here?" he stopped, staring at the crowd next to the train. Artemy blinked in surprise before looking down, meeting with Sticky's beaming face, "I informed everyone, like you said! Was really fast too, or, I would be, but aunt Lara had those biscuits and I just had to stick around for those."

"Of course. Great job, Sticky," Artemy ruffled his hair with a prideful smile.

"You...You told them I was leaving?" Daniil jumped into their conversation, face finally broken into a look of confusion.

"I think they would be very upset if they couldn't say goodbye to you, oynon. Insulted, even. Sticky simply told them when you were leaving and...Well, we didn't force them to come-"

"Here he is, the man of the hour!" Stamatin's voice stopped any objections Daniil could've had. He took a deep breath and fixed his demeanor before walking towards the crowd, Artemy and the kids lagging behind.

Andrey immediately threw his arm around Daniil's shoulders, "I kind of thought you would change your mind, Danya. With all that yesterday, y'know. Are you sure you want to go?"

"Andrey, you...You know I don't have a choice," he sighed, glancing around, "Peter…"

"He wasn't feeling too good," Andrey waved his hand with a frown, "But don't worry! Grace is with him. It's safe, he's safe. I promise."

"Alright. Andrey, please take care of him. And of yourself. Don't...Don't let yourselves get consumed by what was."

"We'll make do, somehow. We always have...Same goes for you though. Don't you dare let anyone get to your head about what happened. A very specific someone especially."

"Hopefully I won't run into him at all," Daniil nodded, "and if I do, I won't give him any ammunition. I promise."

"That's how I like you, Danya."

When Daniil looked away from his old friend, he was met with the rest of the crowd, all eager to say their goodbyes to him. Yulia made him promise a rematch in chess that was left unfinished between them, Rubin surprisingly sought a few last pieces of his medical opinion (Daniil tried to convince him that Artemy could provide the same help, but to no avail), others simply wished him a good ride and arrival to the Capital. Even a few children came around, the youngest girl handing the Bachelor a small chain, decorated with some of the many pieces of jewelry he recalled finding and trading with the local youth, “We’ll miss you, Uncle Bachelor.”

“I…I’ll miss you too, pumpkin. All of you,” he chuckled, putting the chain into the safety of his bag.

“Oh, most esteemed, venerable Bachelor, will you please turn your genius gaze so a lowly liar may say her goodbyes to you too?” Daniil groaned internally before turning around, meeting with Clara’s grin. She stood way too close for his comfort, hands behind her back, eyes alive with her signature mischief.

“I’d think that you would be the most excited to see me get out. You said it yourself.”

“Yes, I did, but that was before those words could hurt you. But now that you’ve grown a heart, I have to be more careful, which takes the fun out of it a bit, if I’m honest.” 

"Now that I've-God, will you ever change?" he pinched the root of his nose as she laughed, "That would be such a shame! And you would not like it either, I know that for sure," Clara fell silent until he returned his gaze back to her, "All jokes aside, you will be missed, Dankovsky. So, we put our heads together and made you a little something."

Her hands slithered forward and presented him with a canvas bag. Daniil stared at it with a confused look, to which she laughed again, "It's gifts. Ones you probably don't deserve, but oh well. From each of us."

"You...You put this together for me?" The Bachelor's voice suddenly cracked as Clara handed him the bag, her smile now settled into one of comradery while the group behind her nodded, "You might have been quite a handful to deal with at some times, but you still managed to kind of...Make us not want to see you leave, in a strange way. It won't be better here without you."

Daniil still stared at the bag, his expression unsure until he finally looked up at the girl, "Thank you, Clara. And all of you, thank you, for everything. It has been...Hell, here, I'm sad to say, but you all made it a bit more bearable. I hope...I hope you can mostly remember me for the few things I did right here."

A few more words were exchanged, before the group moved away a bit, leaving Daniil confused until he realized there were still three behind him. He slowly turned, locking eyes with Artemy, who managed to put on a weak smile before nudging the kids forward.

Daniil crouched down to be at eye level with Murky, who nervously clutched a small box in her arms, glancing up at her brother who quietly tried to convince her to hand it over.

"We found it near my van," she muttered and extended her arms, letting Daniil see a beetle, a small beetle, its elytra catching shades of green and gold in the sunlight. It was carefully fixed onto a canvas background, hidden behind a glass panel of the box.

"You said you used to collect them, right? So we thought you might like this one," Sticky grinned, watching as Daniil carefully took the box from Murky.

"Yes, I did...It is a beautiful one, it must've been hard to catch, are-are you sure you want to give it to me?"

"There are no beetles in the Capital, right?" Murky cocked her head to the side, waiting for his answer, "There are some, but it is very hard to find them."

"Then take it there. Something new for the city." 

"I...Alright. Thank you, both of you," Daniil smiled, gently setting the case into his bag, "I'll make sure to put it up right above my desk...You two, you're good kids. And you'll do great things. Keep an eye out on the town, alright? And...And keep an eye on your father. Make sure he doesn't get in more trouble." 

Both kids nodded and Daniil was about to stand up, when suddenly Murky stepped closer and wrapped her arms around him, pressing her face into his shoulder.

"Thank you for not bringing snakes into the house," she mumbled again the fabric of his coat. Daniil stayed silent for a moment before letting out a chuckle, gently rubbing her back, "I wouldn't dare. I'd never let them bother you."

"So, can you actually bring them around?" Sticky chimed in, prompting a short laugh from the doctor. He stood up after Murky let him go, gently patting the boy’s shoulder, "Only to pester bad people. So you will never see them...Don't you start doing bad things just to see them."

Sticky let out a quiet huff and glanced around before gently taking Murky's hand and moving away from the doctor. He stood still, watching the last person to say goodbye to. 

Artemy was visibly trying his hardest to find the right words, his hands fiddling with a small bottle, filled with dried leaves. Before Daniil could say anything, he pushed the bottle into his hands, "They're...They're herbs from the steppe. Good for tea, helps people relax, and sleep well. Maybe it will be a nice way to remember the town. If...If there's something good to remember about your stay."

"There-there were some good things about it," Daniil thanked and inspected the bottle for a while before placing it next to the beetle. Both men moved to stand side by side, looking into the distance, their backs turned to the rest who carefully, but eagerly observed them.

"You must be excited. I mean-I know things are not the best in the Capital, but you can start over. Many opportunities there, unlike here."

"Yes, many...Who knows, it could be a good way to start over. Plenty of scientific fields open, some could take pity on me." 

"I'm sure you will find your place there. Who wouldn't want you in their team?" Artemy managed to smile, scanning the other's expression. Daniil smiled too, but his was filled with a deep melancholy, eyes fixed on the swaying grass of the steppe.

"Will...Will another 'Thank you' account for all that you've done for me? I feel like it cannot."

"The first one was enough, emshen. I've already told you. I was happy to help you. And...I'm very happy that you truly got better."

"A month ago I was ready to put a bullet in you and leave this hellhole. And now...Now stepping on that train terrifies me and the thought of not being around you-you all every day…" Daniil let out a frustrated sigh before looking back up at Artemy, "I feel like the Powers must be having a blast, watching me suffer like this."

"In the words of one esteemed city doctor, The Powers can go fuck themselves," Artemy waved his hand before both men broke out into a heartfelt laughter, which was after a while interrupted by the conductor's whistle.

"Ah, that's your cue, I suppose," Artemy calmed his breathing, turning to face Daniil, "It...It was a true honor, meeting you, getting to work with you and just making your acquaintance, all together. It will be much emptier here without you. So, I wish you a good journey home and plenty of success," he gently put out his hand, "Until we meet again, Bachelor Dankovsky."

Daniil managed to smile, grabbing Artemy's hand and shaking it, "It was a pleasure meeting you too, and being helped by you, menkhu Burakh. Take good care of this town."

Both of them didn't want to let go, the unspoken words between them heavy in the air. And maybe Artemy was about to open his mouth, maybe Daniil just gathered up the needed courage, but another sharp whistle blow tore through any possible confessions. Daniil let go of Artemy's hand and gathered up his things, waving at the others one last time before he turned to enter the open train cart. The men exchanged one last glance, which could've lasted an eternity, until the door closed.

Artemy stood still, staring at the door, at the silhouette of Daniil sitting down in one of the booths. He only moved after someone tugged at his sleeve, prompting him to look down and meet Murky's gaze. He carefully hoisted her up, letting her curl up in his arms as they watched the train slowly begin to move.

"Dad?"

"Mhm?"

"What's this?"

"What's what-" Artemy was cut off by a sight of a white envelope, pulled by Murky from his chest pocket. He stared at it for a moment before Murky was put back down, nearly not even registering the letter being torn out of her little hand as her father darted after the train.

"Dan-Daniil!" Artemy yelled at the top of his lungs, feet moving fast across the grass as he tried his best to catch up with the right cart. The train slowly accelerated, not too fast yet, but he could already see it disappearing, and it mustn't have disappeared yet, not yet.

"Daniil!!" he tried again, a spark of hope lighting up in him as he saw one of the windows slide open. The Bachelor's face stuck out, twisted in confusion as he saw Artemy running, waving the letter in his hand. His eyes widened as he realized the situation and he seemed to think for a moment before he disappeared back inside.

Was he trying to get the train to stop? No, no, that wouldn’t work, it wouldn’t stop, he had to get closer somehow, before the doctor would leave. How could he have forgotten about that damned letter?!

The cart door suddenly flew open, slamming into the side. And there he stood, tightly clutching the handles on each side of the doorway, coat flapping in the strong wind, dark eyes wide, "Artemy, what are you doing?!"

Artemy dared not waste his breath, only waved the letter again. He could feel his lungs burning, muscles running out of energy, old injuries sparking up. But not just yet, he could still make it.

Daniil frantically looked around before he tightly gripped one of the handles and, to Artemy's horror, leaned out of the door. Only tips of his feet stayed on the edge of the cart, his free hand reaching out towards the Haruspex. 

“Just a little closer!” Daniil yelled, seemingly both to himself and Artemy. Burakh tried his best to speed up, against his whole body screaming at him to stop. He stuck out his arm, the envelope flapping in the wind, so close to the slender gloved hand, just a few more centimeters. He had to give it to him, even if it wouldn’t be read, he could not let this chance slip away-

In a quick swing the black glove wrapped around the envelope and snatched it from Artemy's hand. The next moment he found himself tumbling, hitting the ground hard and his whole body shut down. He ended up on his back, staring into the cloudy sky, desperately wheezing for air. Only after a while did he manage to push himself up to a sit and look after the train.

And there he saw Daniil, safely back in the cart, the outstretched arm now waving to show the envelope, firmly gripped in his hand.

He could see his smile - the most genuine smile he’s maybe ever seen on the doctor. Not a speck of grief in his face, simply a declaration of utmost gratitude, of happiness derived from their meeting. 

He managed to smile himself and wave after him one last time, before Daniil Dankovsky slid back into the cart, racing across the steppe. Leaving Town-on-Gorkhon, its people, and Artemy Burakh, behind.

Chapter Text

Echoes spread throughout the staircase, voices quiet and loud, clanking and music, doors opening and slamming shut. In the cacophony, the rustling of keys nearly got lost, but finally the hand grasped them and pulled them out, right from under the glass bottle.

It took a while before the right key was found, before it was turned and the door gently nudged to open, like it always had. The shoes stayed on, gently grazing the old carpet as the feet carried their owner inside, to see the state of the small apartment, which was abandoned three weeks ago.

Daniil stood still and silent in the middle of the main room, his eyes gazing over the small space he called home for several years now. It was still just as he remembered, as he left it. The neatly stacked books on the shelves, the pillows on the sofa still as comfortable looking as ever, his kitchenette clean and prepared for another meal. Everything with a layer of dust, which he didn't even bother acknowledging at first, as he finally slipped his shoes and coat off before turning to the bedroom.

It took every last piece of his will to not immediately just fall onto the bed, which looked as welcoming as ever, although something felt off. He shook his head and set his bags onto the desk, still covered in a few stacks of paper. Maybe there were still some research notes between them...No, not now. The ride to the Capital was bad enough, sitting alone for hours with nothing but his thoughts made the trip the worst time he's had since the Pest left his body. Maybe even worse, the plague at least put him in a haze, he thought with a sigh as he slowly started unpacking. 

He started with the canvas bag, its contents already inspected so many times on the train. A book from Yulia, premium twyrine from the twins, here an empty shmowder box, there a pressed flower, medical notes, small painting, all now neatly laid on the desk before Daniil. A small empty space remained, soon filled by the beetle case, herbs and jewelry chain, before all that was left in Daniil's hand was the envelope, paper slightly crumpled from its hasty handling, but the writing still perfectly clear:

"To esteemed Bachelor Daniil Dankovsky, read when the noise of the City makes you forget the buzzing of the Steppe"

He mulled over the words at least a hundred times on the train, tracing every pen stroke, every letter on its own. His title felt wrong now whenever he heard or read it, tainted by his failure and the horrors he's witnessed and committed. But knowing those were Artemy's words brought a certain genuineness to it, and Daniil could not take them as mockery, only as sincere declaration of respect. 

Did the buzzing disappear already? No, he could still vividly imagine the correct rhythm, accompanied by smells and other sounds. Accompanied by his presence.

He let out a frustrated groan and began to put the gifts in the best places, the letter getting lost between them somewhere. No, there was nothing to be said. Why would he even want to say anything, he had to leave anyway. Whatever he had in mind would just hurt them both. He cursed himself for the horrible pangs near his heart, there was no time for this now. Get yourself together Dankovsky, you can't wallow in this now, you have other matters to attend to. 

In the morning, he would go right to one of the offices, where his equipment was being held. Had to make sure to stay calm, to say the right things, to leave others unspoken. One wrong word and there was little doubt the Powers would tear him apart. Lord knows they would be eager to do so after he managed to survive the outbreak.

He also had to look the part. He realised that as he passed the bathroom mirror and found his reflection quite unappealing, a whole day of travel plus the general absence of any delicate care in the last few weeks left him far from a shining example of the scientific elite. 

Right, one thing at a time. He had a good few hours before he had to go to sleep to wake up fresh on time, and those hours would not be wasted. 

So he ate some canned food found in the pantry, drew himself a hot bath, inspected his face to see only minor signs of fatigue, which would luckily (by his assumption) be dealt with after a good night’s sleep. He managed to trim his hair a bit, as it began to grow out of its desired length and shape, and with some convincing he forced himself to check his body and the wounds that covered it, now nearly all healed. He could not deny it - he did feel better. Gorkhon chewed him up and spat him out riddled with the Pest, but then it also nursed him back to health. 

He turned away from the mirror as soon as the last cut was inspected and hurried to cover himself with some sleeping garment. The soft fabric of the nightshirt immediately made him feel more at ease, and he soon sat on the edge of the bed, the room lit only by a small lamp on the nightstand. He carefully set up his alarm clock and placed it down before looking up one last time.

The beetle on the wall shone bright, even in the warm dim light of the lamp. Daniil stared at it for god knows how long, feeling that familiar emptiness build in his stomach again. He blinked and rubbed his face, swallowing whatever emotion was trying to make its way up. Not now. Not now…

The bed felt too hard, covers too rough and air too suffocating for a good night’s sleep.

The morning chill crept through the streets, but a mass of bodies expelled their heat and made the cold a little easier to bear. Still Daniil pulled the collar of his coat up, the air escaping his lungs forming small clouds as he made his way towards the city center. It luckily wasn’t too far from his home, he remembered buying the apartment for this very reason. Close to everything he needed. First the university, then his first laboratory, a second research center and finally…

No. Focus, Dankovsky, now’s not the time to lose your cool. Just calm down, collect your things and make sure everything is taken care of. No time to mourn Thanatica now. If there ever would be time to do that.

The walk made him get himself at least a little in order before his steps carried him towards a tall, lavishly decorated building on one of the squares. It stood just among the others, which were just as beautiful, but they lacked something. Something that only the Powers that Be could breathe into a building. 

The door was surrounded by a pair of hulking guards, who pierced Daniil with their glare as he walked past them and pushed the door open. His steps echoed in the large hall he found himself in, all in white marble, little decoration and even less people filling the space. He made his way towards what he assumed was a reception, with a kind looking lady who seemed to be focused completely on the books in front of her.

Daniil cleared his throat and tapped on the counter, catching her attention, "Hello. Could you please tell me where the safekeeping room for confiscated equipment is?"

"And you are…" the woman narrowed her eyes, making Daniil frown. He went through all this because of the Powers and their receptionist didn't even bother knowing his likeness?

"Bachelor Dankovsky. Daniil Dankovsky, the Powers have secured a few machines from my laboratory," he spoke, feeling a pang of victory as the receptionist's eyes went wide and she hurried to search through one of the books, "Ah, s-sorry sir! I didn't even-you know, plenty of faces come and go here."

"Yes, I cannot imagine the struggle," there it was, the sarcasm that was missing from his speech for so long, back in its proper place. It almost made him smile.

"Here, storage room 3, in the west wing," she pointed at a map in her hands, letting Daniil trace the route, "You need to fill this form out, you can do some here, there's a clerk in the storage which will help you fill in the rest."

"I see, thank you," he nodded and took a pen out of his bag to start filling out the needed boxes.

"Professor Telman might be there," she peeped, freezing Daniil in the middle of writing his request, "He's...He's been eyeing the equipment for a few days now. Planned on taking most of it."

"Why that-Well, he's out of luck then. I'm not letting him take any, not even a single screw." he gritted his teeth, anger bubbling up inside of him.

"I'd suggest not provoking him, Mr. Dankovsky," she closed the book, her brows knotting in worry, "he's waiting for exactly that. He knows well what it all meant to you. We...We all know too well."

"Of course you do. You're all guilty, after all," Daniil ignored her shocked look as he checked the form, "I'm not an idiot. In the end, a single wrong word could be taken as resistance against the Powers, couldn't it?"

The storage room did little to impress Daniil, as he carefully stepped inside and closed the door behind him. He was met with rows upon rows of shelves, filled with all kinds of items, from medical and laboratory equipment to stacks of files and books, he even saw a few paintings on one. All was neatly put together and labeled, the room quite spacious, yet the atmosphere was heavy and it made Daniil shudder.

He walked around a bit, trying to find the clerk when he finally stumbled upon a young lad, crouching while seemingly taking inventory of a few items. As soon as he noticed the newcomer he jumped up and stuttered out a greeting, "S-sir! Hello, how may I help you?"

"I've been sent here by the receptionist, said that you would help me retrieve a few items," Daniil handed the paper over, tapping his foot as the clerk read through, eyes going wide when he looked back up, "Y-you're Bachelor-"

"Dankovsky." a raspy voice made Daniil's hair stand on the back of his neck as it sounded off behind him. He stood still for a moment, calming his nerves at least a little before turning, "Professor. What a surprise, meeting you here."

"I should be saying the same," Telman let out a grunt, leaning on his cane while scanning Daniil with his bright green eyes behind the thick glass of his spectacles, "What has brought you here?"

"Unfinished business. Young man," he turned back to the clerk, "could you put together a list of equipment salvaged from Thanatica on the form? I'll be taking all of it."

In the corner of his eye he could see Telman frown as the lad nodded and disappeared among the shelves to complete the request.

"I didn't think you would show your face here ever again. Or that you were even still alive," the professor stepped closer, not even hiding the animosity in his voice.

"I managed, you shouldn't have underestimated me. And I simply came to collect what's mine and my colleagues', whatever the people may think."

"And the people think plenty, as they should. I am now a celebrated man, the one who burned down the den of heresy and its perpetrators. Sure, a few got away, but no one will ever try to pursue that idiotic dream of yours," Telman smirked under his white beard, watching Daniil do his best to not blow up, his gloved hand curling into a fist as he took a deep breath, "We are still respected scientists with plenty of experience. One way or another, we will get back to what we were destined to do, even if it doesn't concern death itself anymore."

The professor was clearly about to continue his taunts, but to Daniil's luck the clerk showed up, waving the form to him, "All of them are in sector A5, sir. You can go take a look at them, if needed we can take them wherever you want, f-for a fee, of course."

"Yes, of course. Thank you, I'll let you know," Daniil nodded with a soft smile and headed to the right part of the storage room, praying that Telman would just leave him alone.

The old man stood right beside him as he looked over the stated equipment, doing his best to ignore his old professor's glare. All the salvaged appliances seemed in good shape, a few unbroken microscopes, unopened sets for analyses, centrifuges, even a few of the bigger machines, said to still be working.

"What are you planning to do with them? Surely you're not just going to hoard them in that tiny apartment of yours."

"Many laboratories in the Capital will be very happy to buy them off of me. They're one of the newer models too, after all," Daniil felt a smirk creeping up his lips, knowing well what was about to happen.

"Say...Daniil, you must surely understand that the medical and science faculties would highly benefit from such appliances. Students deserve to be able to work with the best there is."

"Of course," the Bachelor's eyes flashed with anger at the professor's pause, but he kept his cool, "Of course I want the young ones to have the best circumstances. But doesn't the university get enough funds from the Powers? I'm sure you can get much better things."

"You know the students, they can get so rowdy sometimes. And suddenly this breaks, that stops working properly, all too often."

"I know…You know what, I could offer these to you. Not for free of course, sadly I do need some money, but just for you, I could make a price," Daniil rubbed his chin before taking one of the microscopes into his hands, "Let's see, this fine one, no damage, perfectly functional. I think I bought it for thirty thousand. For you...two hundred thousand."

Telman stared at him in shocked silence before shaking his head, "Have you gone mad? You said you would set a price for me!"

"Yes, I never said a lower price though," he set the microscope back down and looked over to other equipment, "this could be yours for fifty. Oh, this one is amazing, clearly worth five hundred thousand, and this could go for a million-"

"You are only making a fool of yourself. This pettiness will get you nowhere," Telman only straightened his spectacles, but Daniil could see him losing his calm demeanor.

"Dear professor, this pettiness kept me alive for the last month. You have no idea what hell I had to endure in Gorkhon, what I had to do and sacrifice to return. I did not come here to be ripped off by someone who destroyed my life's work, who killed my colleagues, who tainted my name simply because he couldn't take that one of his students overshadowed him. So either pay up, or stay away from me and my property."

This was it. That feeling of control he so desperately needed, which filled his whole mind as he stared at Telman's angry, desperate expression. Daniil stood tall and victorious, above the man who took everything from him. 

"The offer still stands, if you are interested, let me know," he inspected the form for a while, until he knew all that he needed and walked past Telman, readying himself for one last goodbye.

"You must be aware how the funding works. We are on a very tightly set budget, even I cannot move it. And ever since that classmate of yours destroyed the main laboratory, we've been on a shortage-"

"What are you talking about?" Daniil stopped and looked back, his eyes wide in confusion and onsetting anger, "Andrey did not set the fire. You know that damn well, it was all set up. He had solid alibi, students petitioned for him but no, you had him expelled. For nothing," he hissed at the professor, but the confusion still remained. Why would he pull this out now? What was he trying to do?

"For nothing? Oh, no, I did him a favor...I know what he did, what he actually did. And who he did it for," the corner of the old man's lips twitched up, seeing the other grow pale with a look of panicked realization.

"Of course Stamatin didn't burn down the laboratory. But the culprit was never found, and someone had to be blamed. And it is much less punishable to commit accidental arson than a deliberate theft of highly secured chemicals."

"How...How did you-"

"How else would you be able to achieve... this ?" he waved his hand over Daniil's body, "And who but him would have the gall to steal right from his own tutors? But I let him leave without much scrutiny, I let you finish your degree. You should both be thanking me. Who knows where you could've ended up otherwise," he leaned on his cane, "Wouldn't you agree, Dankovska-''

" Don’t. " Daniil snapped, leaning over Telman with his fists clenched, "Don't you dare finish that word, or I will make sure you meet an end much, much worse than death."

"Is...that a threat, Bachelor?" Telman straightened up, visibly taken aback by his statement.

It took all Daniil's will to remain quiet and still, to not simply grab the professor and ram him through the shelves, squeeze those slithering words out of his throat, to make sure he would never bother him again. 

No, that was exactly Telman's plan. As soon as it clicked in his head, it was much easier to calm down. He wanted Daniil to lose himself, by attacking such a sensitive part. That one wrong word the Powers needed to put him down.

"No, not at all," he cleared his throat, sliding the form into his bag.

"Simply...Advice. Friendly advice from a Thanatologist."

Out of his whole research team, only a dozen scientists remained, and it took Daniil a solid part of the day to find out where to find all. Some were still away from the Capital, maybe even unaware of what happened, others already managed to find a new position in one of the many laboratories that littered the city. He went to see those first, maybe their teams were looking for some new equipment.

Those meetings went quite well. A few greeted Daniil with open arms and eyes full of grateful tears, so happy to see him alive, others were much less pleased to meet the doctor. They spoke of their arrival at the Capital, the hard days before finding a position again. Some didn't let Daniil take the blame, others only mindfully nodded along as he lamented not being able to provide results.

At least the equipment offers were a pleasant surprise to all. He tried to come forth with decent prices, and soon all of it was booked, with payment agreed upon receiving. He managed to catch a courier on one of the streets and sent him to deliver the shipping list to the storage, with more than enough money to cover the costs.

The colleagues still without a place were much, much more of a mixed bag. Some simply looked for different opportunities, others wouldn't even open or were actively wallowing in their despair, throwing Daniil out of their homes in rage. As he tried to explain himself to the last one, an ambitious woman now trapped to be a mere housewife, her husband suddenly showed up and before he knew it, his body was sprawled on the pavement and pain erupted in his face.

It was already night by then. Daniil took a while before he managed to hoist himself up, swearing under his breath as he felt blood oozing from his nose. He quickly fished a handkerchief out of the bag and pressed it over the nose, hissing as pain shot out into his whole face. Just his luck, first day home and he was already sporting a fracture. And right where everyone would see it too... 

He walked slowly in the lamp light, all thoughts of possible danger around far back in his mind. He managed muggers in Gorkhon, even as the Sand Pest warped his vision, surely he could take care of a few city punks. Plus there was the police, of course, they could keep him safe. If they weren't the one to attack him first.

His feet carried him on their own, and suddenly he stopped, staring into the rough texture of a wooden panel, surrounded on either side by more of them. He let out a heavy sigh and looked around, what turn did he take wrong to end up at a building site-

He froze when he recognized the street. There was the post office, that nice bakery someone would always get fresh pastries from, there the stairway to that club, the loud music escaping from it always interrupting his thoughts as he worked late into the night…

His hand ran over the boards, moving to try and find a hole, a gap, anything. His breath hitched when he arrived at one, and he hesitated only for a moment before leaning to look through it.

What was he expecting? Would it miraculously become whole again, letting him go back to his life? No, of course not. All that remained was rubble, bricks chipped away, glass shattered, the whole area covered in a thick blanket of dust. Nothing resembled the beautiful building.

No, something did. In the faint lamplight Daniil could see a shining piece of metal, bent and scratched. But one word, one carved word was still perfectly legible, and it tore a hole in his heart.

Thanatica . Thatanica, his beloved, where they fought Death, where they weren't scared of it like common folk, they would conquer it, they would win and Daniil would show them all, he would show them…

He only took notice of the tears when they completely blurred his vision. When he realized, a horrible sob escaped his throat and he slammed his fist into the boards, wheezing as his whole body spasmed, overtaken by all. 

All the pain, the grief, the anger, all of it finally spilled over and left the Bachelor on his knees, sobbing uncontrollably. He cried for Thanatica, for his colleagues, dead or struggling, all disappointed by him and his failure. He cried for not being able to burn the Powers down, to tear Telman into atoms, to take revenge on those who destroyed his dream he worked all his life for.

And he cried for Gorkhon. For the buzzing which still rang loud in his ears, the wide streets filled with life even in the worst of times. For Artemy and all the strange and complicated and wonderful people that he left behind. 

The few passerby only glanced with worry at the sobbing doctor, but no one dared come closer. Eventually even the street lamps shut down, leaving Daniil in the darkness, completely alone.

Chapter Text

"Are you out of your mind?!" a hand slammed into the table, making the three scientists jump up in surprise. They stayed silent, watching the man in front of them, whose dark eyes scanned the written up terms in disbelief.

"Are you three telling me that with my name, my experience, my title, the only possible position you can offer me is a mere laboratory assistant?" Daniil gritted his teeth, still staring at the papers in rage.

"With-with all due respect, Mr. Dankovsky, the allegations against you-we can't have that fall on our laboratory," one of them started, but was quickly cut off, "Most of my colleagues found decent positions in other places. They can still do the work they are qualified for. What makes my situation so different?!"

"Look, Dankovsky, let's not waste your or our time," the second scientist sighed, standing up, "our lab may be small, but our research is important. And it needs plenty of funding, which we are getting now. But I doubt that would continue if we had a direct opponent of the Powers that Be in our core team."

"Why is everyone obsessed with the Powers now? I've been in research for years and we always stuck together! And-and now I leave for a few weeks and suddenly everyone's busy appeasing them in any way possible?"

"Things change. And it's not always in our favor...There has to be something else you can do. Maybe someone will-"

"You were the last on my list," The Bachelor sighed, his anger suddenly disappearing as he slumped back onto his chair, "I've been going around for nearly a month, every possible lab or research facility in the Capital, anything. No one…No one is willing to give me a chance."

The three exchanged looks, now seeing the doctor's true state. Without the mask of anger he looked a lifetime wearier, eyes glassy and tired, as if he hadn't slept for days, his gloved hands shaking slightly.

"Say...Haven't you thought about finding something else? Research is probably not for you anymore, but maybe you could get into tutoring. And you have a medical degree, no? You could always put that to practice."

"You think hospitals are not on the Powers' payroll as well?" Daniil let out a bitter chuckle.

"I'm just trying to give you some advice, Dankovsky. Look, you clearly need to get yourself together. I don't know what happened to you over your absence, but it is clear it stuck with you. Maybe that's the reason you can't find your place here."

"I should not be having to find my place, it should've still been here," he muttered, rubbing his face before standing up, "Since you're set on being completely useless, I'll be off. Thank you, for the nothing you've given me."

"Fixing that attitude of yours couldn't hurt either." the scientist glanced after the doctor, who shot him one last spiteful look.

"Let's see you fix your attitude when you lose everything."

"You know, Danya," a voice sounded off in front of him, prompting Daniil to slowly look up from his who-knew-what-number half empty glass.

"I heard too much of this stuff's pretty bad for you, my own doctor told me so," the waitress grinned, leaning on the table. The bar was quite empty, not many came around on a weekday. Especially not here, hidden in one of the darker corners of the Capital, where common men dared not to step their foot into. Daniil wasn't sure how he even got here, his legs simply carried him on instinct a few weeks ago. Only when he sat down and took in the cozy space, colorful lights and decorations and the staff that remembered his name, he realized he found himself in one of the bars Andrey took him to, which they then frequented quite often. 

Now only emptiness sat besides him, yet he kept coming back to these parts of the city. A few times a week he'd lose himself in the dark, doing anything with anyone willing. Without Andrey, he did get lost in it all way too easily, but he still continued. The herbs from Gorkhon were long gone, and he hoped to find anything that would grant him some form of calm sleep that night.

"Oh really? What a wise man," Daniil smiled for a moment before downing his drink, "bring me another then."

"What's gotten into you? You've never been like this." the lady reluctantly took hold of the glass, her words making the Bachelor scoff, "What indeed. What could push a man to end up here all alone? Loneliness? Grief? The complete destruction of his life's work which made him undesired in any and all research centers, leaving him without any place to go, any person to go to?!" As soon as he heard his voice raise he regretted it. He fell silent, groaning into his palms, even the soft tunes coming from the nearby music machine making his head pound.

"I'm-I'm sorry, so sorry, just...bring me another, please."

"Alright, dear. But just one, we're closing soon."

"Oh...make it a double then."

Drunks in Gorkhon always puzzled the Bachelor. In the first days he watched with disgust as they lumbered along the street, apparently asking for water of all things. Simple scum of the earth, doing nothing to contribute to the worsening situation.

But then one night he found himself standing above a body of a mugger, smoke still coming out of the barrel of his revolver, all nerves screaming as he realized the pain shooting out of a cut on his side. As he stumbled through the streets, all shops closed already, not a piece of bandage on him, he quickly began to panic. But suddenly one of those lowlives showed up from behind the corner, clutching a roll of clean gauze, called by the clinking of bottles Dankovsky picked up on someone's advice. From that moment, he always made sure to have plenty of water on him and to ask to trade with any of the Carousers.

Even they were useful. They stood for something, contributed in some way. And what was he doing? Oh yes, leaning against the door of his apartment, desperately trying to get the key into the keyhole, nearly losing his balance and falling flat onto the floor once he finally managed to let himself inside. He pressed his back against the door to close it, staring blankly into the twisting hall as he tried to get himself together. The journey home was dreadful, but at least he had to focus on staying up, getting back. Now safely in the apartment, his mind could only go back to the thousands of thoughts that were pushing in, leaving Daniil sick and overwhelmed.

Somehow he managed to make his way to the bedroom and get himself into his night clothes, although he couldn’t say how long it actually took him. Afterwards he sat on the edge of the bed, staring into the wall, taking in the wallpaper’s texture. Maybe hoping to find something comforting in it.

The drinking was supposed to numb his mind, it worked before, why wouldn’t his brain give up now? He slowly propped himself up - there had to be something to get the job done with, no matter what. He looked around the room, eyes stopping on the golden glow above his desk. He stared at the beetle, trying to put his swimming thoughts together, find something to associate with the bug besides a twisted feeling of emptiness.

His eyes suddenly went wide and he moved to the desk as fast as his state allowed him to, gripping onto it as he started to search through the drawers. He had put it here somewhere, like the rest, it would help him-

“There you are!” he let out something resembling a relieved laugh as his fingers tightly gripped the glass bottle and tore it out of the drawer. The movement was quite miscalculated and the sheer speed of it made him stumble, slamming his back into the wall. He let out a shaky breath, the impact making him hug the bottle tight, hoping to god that it didn’t break.

It did not, the hard glass still glimmered in the dim light, holding the dark twyrine inside of it. How did it go? Bad twyrine gets in your head, makes you see and hear things, makes you unpredictable. But good twyrine mellows you out, grants your mind that much needed peace. This was a premium batch and there was nothing he needed more than peace.

He was about to pry the bottle open, when his eyes suddenly caught something bright on the floor. He groaned as his focus shifted, some papers must’ve got thrown out as he pulled the twyrine out. He would’ve simply gone back to the drink, but then he noticed the words on one of the papers. makes you forget the buzzing of the Steppe , the letters stated clearly on the crumpled envelope.

Daniil found himself staring again, now focused on anything but the bottle. The buzzing. He still remembered it, right? He shut his eyes tight and tried his hardest to remember, he still knew the rhythm, the particular smells, he had to know…

He lumbered back to the desk, setting the bottle down and carefully bending down to pick the letter up. He completely forgot about it over the month, and now he forgot the one thing still tying something inside of him to that town. That horrible town, with its filth and backwards traditions and…and the kind people, who saved his life, who cared about him, no matter what he tried to do.

He blinked away the tears and fell onto his chair, hypnotizing the letter in his hands, as if he could absorb whatever was inside simply from the few words on the outside. He tried to remember again, there had to be at least something…But nothing came. It all disappeared in the cacophony of the city, screaming and laughing at him and his failure. There was no space left for the gentle noises of the Steppe.

Daniil rubbed his forehead, pondering his options. Whatever was in that letter, it could either help or destroy him. Who knows what Burakh had in mind, when he even wrote it. Maybe it was a detailed list of all the things he hated about Daniil, that would maybe be best, would help him part with that chapter of life much easier. But no, he wouldn’t be that lucky, of course whatever was inside would tear him apart. Heh, the Ripper would finally live up to his horrible nickname after all.

But…It would at least do something . His life seemed to be in stasis, just constant running around with nothing changing. And in this state, he wouldn't at least be inclined to dismiss whatever the words would make him feel. Maybe it was the best course of action.

The tearing of paper awoke his mind a little as he found his fingers acting on their own, carefully pulling out the folded sheet from the envelope. The paper was slightly faded around the edges, taken from one of Artemy’s notebooks, he presumed. Daniil often saw it in the menkhu’s hands, jotting down words upon words. Thoughts of the day, he explained when the city doctor became curious enough to ask. Became quite a habit during the outbreak.

Daniil gulped as his eyes laid upon the page, words of dark ink pressed close to each other, making sure no space would be wasted. Artemy’s handwriting lacked the precision which Daniil was so delicate about, it was fast, nearly illegible in some places. Truly a doctor’s script if he ever saw one.

He took one last deep breath, setting himself up to concentrace before he began to take the words in.

Dear Daniil,

I've been told that twyrine can free the mind and tongue, but now I can only hope it frees my hand. All other means are frozen by the sudden news you've given me this evening. (I’m sorry if this gets unreadable in some places, the alcohol is not going to make my already bad handwriting any better)

I of course never expected you to stay forever. After the Tower fell, I was sure I'd never see you again, that you would just leave with the first train. And even as you extended your stay (by your own stupid actions, mind you), I found myself waiting for the moment I'd find your room empty, without a word. And in those first days I might’ve not even felt too much distress because of it. But then you stayed another day, and another, and suddenly I eagerly awaited your arrival downstairs every morning, so we could eat while discussing plans, observations, anything. And of course, your recovery was a treat to witness to not only me but the rest of the town as well.

I understand that you have many responsibilities back in the Capital, the little you’ve told me would already be too much for me to bear. And I have little doubt that you will be able to get them all in order, find a nice way to start anew and make your name revered among your circles again. Don’t let anything stop you, put that unwavering spirit you’ve shown here to good use.

I don’t know when you’ll read this. If you even read it. Maybe you’ve already thrown it away, or you got to it after everything had been fixed. But if by some horrible chance or twist of fate you find yourself in a tight spot, with nowhere to go, I’d like to put forth an offer. There will never be a moment when Gorkhon wouldn’t benefit from another pair of healing hands. With you gone, the only professionals will be me and Rubin. The Changeling’s magic is probably gone with the plague (no matter how much she insists otherwise), and the few other healers of the Kin are not too trusted by the townsfolk. In other words - if you find yourself without a place in the Capital, there will always be a place for you here. No matter what.

In a way, I wish I could be writing simply out of professional comradery. But I at least have to address some of what I’ve been too much of a coward to say out loud. The town will lose a great doctor, who, while often quite abrasive and a bit of a prick, did try his best to help it, to destroy the Pest. And I will miss you in that way as well. But I will also miss a man who filled our house with the gentle smell of coffee, whose monologues about medicine I could listen to for hours. Who, despite his best efforts to stay distant, ended up happily looking after the kids and whose eyes shone with excitement when he found his first blades of twyre. I will miss the man who allowed me to get to know him, and who in return let me confide in him. It is definitely very selfish of me, but nothing would make me happier than to have you back again.

Good luck with everything, Daniil. It was an honor meeting you, and I shall hope that one day we will meet again, under much better circumstances.

Yours truly,

Artemy Burakh

Chapter Text

"Tickets please!"

"You seem chipper today, sir. What's the occasion?" 

"Today is just a wonderful day!" the conductor beamed, checking the ticket the lady before him handed over, "I am finally returning home, after so long!"

"Oh? And where might that be?"

"Just the very last stop. I cannot wait-What's with that look?"

"You mean...But that's where that horrible plague was!"

"I assure you ma'am, the plague is long gone, no need to worry. A great local doctor managed to defeat it. After the two week lockdown I could finally get to work again, what I didn't know was that they would whisk me around the whole country! But at last, I will be returning to my dear, healed Town-on-Gorkhon."

"Well, that's good to hear, at least. May you have a nice return home."

"Likewise, ma'am," he handed the stamped ticket back and went through the rest of the train cart, which slowly departed from the Capital's main train station. The morning was rainy and miserable, and there were so many people to get through, but as he had to remind himself, after this long day he'd finally be home. 

"Tickets please!" He stopped by the last set of seats, surprisingly occupied by only one person, alongside the large suitcase next to them. A hand covered in black leather passed the ticket to him and he inspected it with a surprised smile, "Oh my, a fellow traveler to Gorkhon! What takes you to our lovely town?"

"An...Opportunity has arisen for me there. I suppose it's not too dissimilar to my first trip," the man turned to the conductor, who was suddenly met with a familiar, very unexpected face.

"Bachelor Dankovsky? Is-is it really you?"

"I don't remember switching up my body and mind, so yes, I think it's still me," Daniil smiled, taking the stamped ticket, "How is the town?"

"Oh, sir, I have just as little of a clue as you do! I've been gone ever since the lockdown was lifted. But this is exciting, to have you back! You look great, by the way. Are you going to stay for some time again?"

"I didn't-I'll see about it. Depends on the circumstances."

"Of course. Well-oh, I have to go, but I'll try to get back to you once I have the time," the conductor said his goodbye and disappeared in the conjoined cart. 

Daniil looked down at the ticket, rough paper covered in ink in set intervals, before he shoved it in his coat pocket and sank deeper into his seat with a sigh.

You look great. Did he really say that? Daniil had to chuckle at the man's naivety, then again at least it assured him that he was hiding his true state well enough.

His true state, which barely changed since the morning he woke up after reading the letter. He found himself slumped on the desk, eyes glued together with the remains of the river of tears he shed, which also stained the letter and left it riddled with dark splotches of blurred ink. The twyrine bottle was left unopened.

And before he knew it, he was boarding the train, the remains of his life all packed into this suitcase beside him, which he barely managed to hoist up into the cart himself. No, this was not like his first trip at all. How long had it been, over two months ago? Back then the only thing in his hand was a carpenter bag and his mind was occupied solely by the immortal man who could save his Thanatica.

His eyes glided to the window, taking in the scenery around. They were quickly leaving the city proper, tall cramped buildings replaced by neat neighborhoods of houses and gardens, surrounded by slowly unraveling fields, which in the morning chill were covered in a soft blanket of frost.

He mulled the contents of the letter over and over in his head, trying to make sense of it all. Artemy definitely offered him a place in the town’s society, that was certain. No matter what, Daniil was still a man of medicine, and he could be useful. It was the last part of that letter that made him recount every minute they spent together, to see if the Haruspex’s words were mere formality or if they could’ve been a genuine...Confession? Daniil could barely accept that, could they have really become this close over those days? As he dug deeper, to sort what he felt towards Artemy, he always found himself thinking of sitting next to him during breakfast, listening intently to his recounting of town history and legends, or watching as he reached for another blade of twyre, eyes shining in the afternoon sun, glancing over to Daniil with such warmth and care…

When he surfaced from deep thought, his cheeks burned and he groaned in frustration as the situation became more and more clear. All that was put to paper a month ago. A month in which they haven’t seen each other at all and Daniil was dragged to the very bottom again, resurfacing a man who truly lost everything, but who also could truly start anew. And Gorkhon was familiar yet still quite unknown to him, by principle a great place to begin a new chapter of his life.

But what if Artemy moved on? He wouldn't blame him, but the thought of meeting him nearly every day, working with him while knowing whatever was between them was now gone, it evoked a strange worry deep inside of Daniil. 

No, no going back on his decision. Not yet at least. He would stay on this train until the last stop, he would go through Gorkhon, he would at least see what could be done. Give it some time. Then he'd make his choice.

Twyrine season was long gone now, yet a certain scent of it still remained in the cold air, hitting the Bachelor right as he carefully excited the train cart. The conductor was so kind as to help him with his suitcase before he wished him a happy stay and went off to finish checking the train.

It took a moment for Daniil to get used to the surroundings, breathing deep for his lungs to adapt to the steppe air once again. The wide plains of grass swayed gently in the cold wind, prepared for the arrival of snow. As he glanced over, he found the hulking structure of the train station looming next to him, dark metal creaking. It caused him to swiftly depart for the town, as if he were scared it could collapse onto him at any second.

He wasn't sure what to think as his feet finally stepped onto the paved walkway and he noticed the first houses. It felt like so long ago, surely something must've changed. But the building stood the same, the people moved the same, everything remained just as he left it. 

It did provide him with a certain comfort, especially as he found himself navigating the still familiar streets with ease. But then he suddenly had to stop himself from reaching for a bottle here, a needle there. He approached every corner with a reluctance, realising with a jolt that he had arrived with nothing to protect himself with, if need be. Danger could lurk at any turn, and what of the clouds, if he ran into one again-

He stopped abruptly and slumped against the high fence which circled one of the backyards, taking a shaky breath as he lowered his face into his hands. Get yourself together, it's gone, the Pest is gone. No more plague clouds, no more looters, no exterminators. The town was safe. He was safe. There was no need to worry. And yet…

He swore quietly before looking up, freezing when he was pierced by two sets of eyes, sitting in the curious faces of a pair of children. They stared at Daniil for a while before one of them rummaged through her pockets, pulling out a handful of tiny items, a single bullet shining among them, "Wanna trade? The bullet is for two."

"I...I don't-"

"I have a lockpick, it's much better! For a good price too!" the boy chimed in, waving the thin metal tool.

"Kids, it's not-"

"Now where have you two run off to?!" a figure loomed behind the children, making them quickly hide their wares and turn to the newcomer, "We were just welcoming Uncle Bachelor!"

"Of course you were. Get yourselves to Miss Ravel's house, right away. And you better give her those!" Clara yelled after the kids, hurrying away through the streets. She huffed with a soft smile before her eyes turned to Daniil, who stood still, his brows furrowed in a nervous expression.

"I expected plenty from this day, as I usually do. But to think this would happen," Clara grinned, clasping her hands together, "The great Bachelor Dankovsky decided to bless us with a visit!"

"Do...Do those kids know the outbreak is over?"

"Hm? Oh, of course they do. Trading is still going strong among them, but now we have to keep an eye on them so they don't go around selling stray bullets and such. Quite difficult, if you ask me, the children are really sneaky," she explained while scanning Daniil, who soon shifted uncomfortably under her gaze.

“So, has another letter brought you over here? Promising a breakthrough, a great discovery?” 

“That’s not…” he glanced down at his luggage, remembering the envelope tucked in one of the pockets, “I…I suppose it is what brought me here, in a way.”

“What a coincidence! Wait-would that mean we’re in a loop? Will the Pest come again?”

“Clara-”

“Hm, that would be very unfortunate. Well, at least the best three healers are back here together, now more ready than ever! The plague has no chance of winning now!”

“I…God, I missed this,” a sigh left Daniil’s lips, which gently curled into a smile as his sentence visibly caught the teen off guard. Clara raised her eyebrow, leaning closer, “Are you feeling alright, Bachelor? You don’t look sick, did the Capital mess you up this bad?”

“I wouldn’t be surprised if it had. A lot has happened, and that lot…Let’s just say I didn’t have a good month.”

“I can tell,” Clara rubbed her chin before shrugging, “Oh well, I suppose I too missed seeing your stupid face. Do you still have some big latin phrases up your sleeve?”

“ Exspecta videque ,” Daniil exclaimed, surprising even himself by how easily he found the right words. At least something still remained of him.

“Aah, that’s it. Gorkhon’s perfect now,” Clara giggled, “so, Dankovsky, where were you headed before those little rascals ambushed you?”

“I…I was hoping to find Burakh somewhere,” the reality immediately sank back in as he remembered the main purpose of his return to this town, “Do you know where he could be?”

“Not in the town, I’m afraid. He went into the steppe early in the morning, some menkhu business, I suppose.”

“Oh,” of course he had to be this unlucky, “do-do you know when he could be back?”

“No clue, but probably before sundown…Hey, I know! Let’s go wait for him at his house!” Daniil’s arm was suddenly grabbed and he let out a surprised yelp as Clara began dragging him towards the Skinners.

“Wait-wait! I am not breaking into his house! I can just wait outside, Clara-”

“Don’t worry, we won’t be breaking in. I have worked hard this past month and Burakh gifted me with my very own key,” she fished it out from under her scarf, hanging from a chain around her neck, “I sometimes stay over, in return I look after the kids or clean around.”

“That’s…He really doesn’t mind?”

“You don’t believe me? Typical Bachelor Dankovsky,” she scoffed, but the smile on her lips quickly returned, “I promise that he will at most be pleasantly surprised by seeing you.”

“You think so?” Daniil gently freed his arm, his voice tinged with a certain hope.

“There’s only a few things I am sure of more than that. Artemy will be delighted to see you.”

The house didn’t change a bit. As Daniil eased himself into a free armchair, he was fully hit by just how familiar everything felt. By just how more at ease he was now than when he arrived back to his apartment in the Capital.

“Would you like some coffee? I think there’s still the tin you bought, Burakh doesn’t really drink it too much,” Clara chimed from the doorway, making Daniil nod, “Yeah, I’d like one. Thank you.”

He glanced at the wall clock, frowning as it showed a time far away from sunset. Then again winter was coming, the sun would set earlier, meaning Artemy would arrive earlier…And then what? With a jolt of panic he realised he had no solid plan of how to approach all of this. Start with a greeting, yes, that was clear. And then…The job offer? Catching up? Asking about that damned letter? All his experience and he had no idea how to put together something simple as a conversation plan?

“Stop worrying, Dankovsky. That frown will stay on your face if you keep this up,” Clara’s voice tore him out of his anxious thoughts and his soul was soothed a bit by the smell of the coffee she set before him. He thanked again, taking a gentle sip before sighing in relief.

The Changeling fell onto the sofa next to him, shedding her top coat and hat. Daniil noticed her frame, now looking much healthier as her clothes didn’t hang on her anymore. Even her hair grew a little, creating a dome of short light hair on her skull. All and all, Clara was visibly doing much better, and Daniil could only feel happy about it, no matter how much annoyance and trouble she had caused him.

The minutes ticked away, and Clara made sure to not let Daniil wallow in his thoughts. She asked about the train ride, carefully testing the waters of what she could find out about his stay in the Capital. That wasn't much, Daniil had no intention of revealing it all to her of all people. But even with that he found himself slipping out a few sentences about his colleagues, his equipment, Thanatica. When he realised that, he grew worried. Clara would surely make fun of his goals, she never took them seriously. To his surprise she only expressed condolences and continued on with her recounting of what was new in the town.

Daniil sat, sipped his coffee and listened, so lost in Clara's monologue that he forgot to check the time. As his focus shifted back, he noticed the soft smile on Clara's lips and suddenly he froze at a creaking sound, coming from the hall. The door clicked shut, followed by a heavy thud of boots, the rustling of herbs and the voice, that gentle yet brooding voice, exclaiming, "Clara, whatever company you have here, they need to go, I have a lot of work to do."

"Oh, I think you wouldn't want them to leave just yet," Clara grinned at Daniil before jumping up, disappearing into the hall, "You should meet them!"

"I am happy that you found a new friend, but I am way too busy and tired to socialize. So if you could just tell them to-"

Words died on Artemy's tongue when he stepped through the doorway. He halted, eyes going wide when he noticed the guest. Daniil dared not move, only gulped as he took in the man’s frame. He noticed Artemy’s stubble being a little longer, hair on the other hand trimmed into a neat shape, shining in the few stray rays of sunlight escaping through the windows. His work uniform seemed new, lacking the numerous stains and tears the old one bore after the outbreak. He carried the same old basket in his hands, overfilled with herbs which filled the air with their scent, completely overpowering the coffee.

But Daniil could only linger on those details for a moment, before all his focus turned to the eyes. Artemy’s eyes, two deep oceans, still shining bright with life. Just as captivating as the day they disappeared from his view. 

They both stared in silence, only the clock on the wall breaking it with its ticking. And they would probably stay like that for much longer, had Clara not disturbed their stillness with a clap of her hands, which jolted both up, “Well, I think I’ll leave you to this work of yours, Burakh. If you need anything, I’ll be at Capella’s.”

“Huh? Yeah, yeah, sure. Thanks,” Artemy trailed off, turning his focus back on Daniil. As Clara left the house, he hoisted himself up to stand, hoping being closer to the other’s level would grant him some kind of confidence. He opened his mouth, prepared to start off strong, but in the end all he managed to stutter out was a simple, “He-hello.”

“Hi,” Artemy nodded, visibly trying to find the right words as well, while he fiddled with one of the twyre blades in his fingers. Exactly like that time in the steppe, Daniil thought as he cleared his throat, “How…How are you? Heard you were in the steppe all day.”

“Oh, yes, I was. Um, just gathered some herbs, had some rites to take care of…Kin business, as usual. It was fine,” Artemy gently set the basket aside, “How are you?”

“I mean…Right now? I have no idea, to be honest. And before…”

“I take it that...The matters in the Capital did not go well?” Artemy frowned sadly as Daniil shook his head, lowering his gaze, “They-they did not…God, it all went so wrong.”

He rubbed his face, fighting the incoming attack of feelings, “I just…I read the letter a few days ago. I’m sorry, it just got lost among it all and I found it by chance and I had to see what was in it. And…Y-you offered me a place here. And in my state I thought, why not just risk it?” he let out a chuckle, seeing Artemy visibly surprised by the turn of events, “The Powers won. They’ve defeated me, Artemy. So I…I left everything behind. Sold my books, my research, my whole apartment. Everything went to my colleagues. And this luggage. And the ticket here.”

“You…Really went all in like this?” the menkhu asked, his eyes stopping on the suitcase besides the doctor. 

“Yes. I know, how strange of me, to abandon all of my life’s work, for this stupid little town of nightmares, for…For you,” Daniil looked up, his chest tightening as he knew what he had to address now. 

“Artemy, I read the letter. Read the whole thing, I don’t even know how many times. I tried to look at the situation from all possible angles, to come up with the most rational solution. And-and I found out that whatever I would do, it would have to lack rationality. Because sticking to my principles only screwed me over in the worst ways possible. Because…Because when it comes to you, I cannot look to logic for an answer,” he blurted out, quickly, before his throat would seize up in an attempt to stop it all from spilling out.

Artemy stood still and listened, his expression unclear, which made Daniil grow worried. Did he misunderstand? No, no, there was no way-Of course there was a way, and now he said it, he didn’t say much yet, but it could’ve been enough-

“I-I mean,” words escaped his lips again, and suddenly he was not able to stop them, “I took that letter to be a…Confession, I suppose? Not just that, I came after the job offer, of course. I hope that still stands, I was kind of counting on that. On that, and on-on you, since what you said in that letter was quite…” he trailed off, staring at Artemy’s expression finally changed. And he was smiling. It was soft, but it was there, and it filled Daniil with a horrible mix of thoughts which surfaced in a terrifying conclusion.

“Were…Were you just making fun of me? Is that it, Artemy? Did I abandon every aspect of my previous life for a joke? Did I question everything I’ve ever felt for you, how much I actually wanted to return here, to see you once again, to tell you all that happened-Burakh, did I just spill my guts out in front of you because of a prank?! Because if that’s it, I will snap you neck like a fucking twig, I swear-”

He would continue. He would even truly jump at the Haruspex with killing intent, that much had the possibility riled him up. But then, in a simple motion, Artemy gently swung his arms out, baring his chest. Completely opening himself up to the Bachelor, with a smile that only grew wider, more genuine. 

One look into the deep blue eyes soothed his anger. Two steps carried him closer to the Haruspex. Three sharp breaths were taken before Daniil suddenly couldn't keep it all down anymore. His vision blurred with tears as he allowed the two strong arms to wrap around him, pulling him into Artemy’s embrace. As soon as his face grazed against the fabric of the menkhu’s clothes, the floodgates opened and all he could do was muffle his sobs by pressing himself closer, all possible reservations gone. 

He could feel his throat spasming in uneven gasps for breath, his eyes stung, tears rolled down his cheeks and stained the green fabric they pressed against. With that realisation he tried to pull away, to not make a mess of the other’s uniform, but Artemy’s hand gently grabbed the back of his head and pulled him back. Suddenly all his senses focused on him and Daniil could feel the warmth of Artemy’s body, the subtle scent of herbs lingering around him, the way his chest rose and fell calmly, how his fingers grazed through Daniil’s hair, carefully, as if he were afraid of upsetting him. 

“I…I take it that you were not joking,” Daniil managed to mutter after what felt like hours, when his tears ran dry and he wiped his face before daring to look up. Artemy’s smile only grew wider, his cheeks now flushed red. Daniil could not imagine how crimson his own face must’ve been.

“I would never joke about something like that, emshen. Especially not with you,” Artemy carefully shifted his hand, one finger reaching to touch Daniil’s cheek, testing how far he could go. He was visibly surprised when the doctor’s face leaned into his hand, lips curling into a smile of his own, “I-I suppose I shall take up your offer then. Both the medical position, if that’s still available, and…And I think we could try working on that second part too. If-If you still feel the same.”

“I could never feel different again,” Artemy let out a delighted chuckle as he pressed his forehead against Daniil’s, gazing into his dark brown eyes, finally filled only with deep calm and happiness.

“Welcome home, Daniil.”

Chapter Text

"Just a few more steps. Don't worry, you’re fine."

"Why are these so goddamn rickety? Artemy, I swear if I fall down somewhere-" Daniil gripped onto the other's arm tighter, prompting Artemy to chuckle as he led him up the narrow staircase, sometimes slapping the gloved hand away from removing the blindfold over the doctor's eyes.

"You act like you don't trust me, Danya."

"I do! But excuse me for being a little wary when you blindfold me and drag me out in the middle of the night to god knows where."

"You always say you're very capable of navigating the streets, you could easily deduce where we went then," a creak and a thud followed Artemy's words. Daniil shuddered as a gust of cold air hit him, frowning and he tried to recall all the turns they took, "We went straight, right, then straight again, then...You shouldn't rely on my sense of direction when it's impaired like this."

"I will make sure to remember that," Artemy gently snaked his arm out of Daniil's grasp as their feet finally laid upon solid concrete, wind swirling around the two. Daniil stood still, suddenly worried about the lack of support, "Artemy, can I-"

"Don't. Just a bit longer," he heard something closing before Artemy's hands took hold of him again, this time gently turning him before lifting his chin up, "okay, I think we're all set. Are you ready?"

"I could get ready if I knew what for."

"Are you ready, Daniil?"

"Ugh-Yes. Yes, of course I am."

The blindfold slid of Daniil's face and as he looked up, his breath hitched. The dark void of the sky spread above him, but it was not obscured by clouds, as he grew used to. No, tonight it was completely clear, and as he focused more, he began to realise the darkness was not all consuming. There was a star, and another, and another. Soon his field of vision was filled with hundreds, thousands of them, small and bigger, scattered across the whole sky. Tiny dots, swirling in familiar and unknown patterns, some converging in a luminous line which spread above them. 

“It’s been a while since the sky cleared so nicely,” Daniil jumped at the words and looked down, seeing Artemy sat beside him, watching the lightshow above them with a delighted smile. Glancing around, Daniil realised he was led to the Works, right atop Artemy’s workshop. Quite far away from the streetlamps of the town.

“This is...” the doctor was at a loss for words as he carefully sat down beside Artemy, eyes glued to the sky, utterly mesmerized by the sight.

“Have you ever seen a clear night sky like this?”

“Of course I have, but...that was so long ago, when I was a little kid. You can’t see this in the Capital.”

“How...how are you feeling about it all?” Artemy glanced at him, his brows gently furrowing in worry. Daniil sighed, not taking his eyes off of the sky, “I’m still processing it all, I suppose. It feels wrong, I should’ve come to terms with it already, shouldn’t I?”

“It’s different for everyone, Daniil. And after all, it’s just been a week. You’re still adjusting, there’s nothing wrong with that,” Artemy’s hand gently snaked over Daniil’s shoulder and the doctor allowed himself to be pulled closer.

“I guess…I guess I’m fine. I feel sad about what happened, but I don’t feel remorse for leaving it all behind. It had to be done, there was nothing left for me there. I’m more grateful that I actually had somewhere to go to. Someone to take me in,” he finally tore his eyes away from the sky, gifting Artemy with a grateful glance. 

“I would never do otherwise, you know that,” Artemy returned the smile, however it soon wavered as he noticed a particular twist in the doctor’s face, “Daniil, we’ve talked about this.”

“I-I just think-Why won’t you accept the money? It’s only fair.”

“I am not taking money from you. I told you, I’ll be more than happy to perform the operation. And it truly flatters me that I was the one you asked first.”

“I mean, I could ask Rubin, you said he wouldn’t mind it, but…you know, it would require explanation and all that stuff around, I don’t know if I want to go through that again,” Daniil huffed, gesticulating wildly with one hand, “What’s wrong with me paying for your service? It takes your time, energy, resources, the money could go in handy sometime. Didn’t the kids want to get some books? You could get them.”

“Or you could get them the books yourself, as a gift perhaps. With the money you’ll keep,” Artemy gently grabbed his wandering hand, looking directly into Daniil’s face, “Please, Danya. Trust me, it will be an honor to do this for you.”

“I suppose there’s no way to change your mind?” Daniil sighed in defeat when the other shook his head, “Okay then. But now all I’ll be putting in is my trust in you. So you better do a good job of it.”

“Do you know who you’re talking to, Dankovsky? I promise no one else would do a better job…Ok, maybe someone would. But no one here. Not to underestimate Stakh’s craft though-”

“I believe your work will be the best possible, Artemy,” Daniil cut him off, visibly content with the resolution in the end. Artemy nodded, his eyebrows raising slightly when the other leaned closer. Against the darkness he could still see Daniil’s expression shifting. He gently raised his hand to caress the doctor’s cheek, burning hot against his palm. He would have let out some words of reassurement, when against his expectation Daniil made the move and quickly sealed Artemy’s lips with his own. 

The initial shock quickly died down and Artemy smiled as he returned the kiss, feeling the gloved hands snake over his neck, fingers running through his hair. His own hands slid around Daniil’s waist and he could feel him shudder as he pulled him into his embrace, now simply to feel him closer. There was no fear of losing him. There was nothing to take Daniil away from him now.

The kiss was broken mutually, after who knows how long, and then they simply stared at each other, both filled with immense joy, both barely able to believe their luck. Daniil gently frowned when Artemy pulled away after a while, to carefully lay down on his back, one hand extended towards the doctor, “I know I am definitely a nicer sight to behold, but you should still see as much of this as possible.” 

Oh yes, the sky. Daniil shook his head with a chuckle before lowering himself next to Artemy, sliding one of his gloves off to take hold of Artemy’s hand. Their fingers intertwined as they both gazed back up, the stars as beautiful as before. 

“We could maybe see a shooting star tonight. What will you wish for if that happens?”

“I thought you shouldn’t say that out loud,” Daniil shifted closer, laying his head against Artemy’s shoulder.

“No, that’s for when you’re actually wishing for it. But what would you hypothetically wish for?” 

There was a moment of thoughtful silence before Daniil finally spoke, “I’d wish for more nights like these. For more opportunities to see a shooting star. So I can prepare a better wish in advance.”

Artemy didn’t even feel hurt by the fist hitting his chest when he let out a laugh, completely taken aback by such an answer. Daniil would’ve probably hit him again, but he managed to calm himself down and utter a short apology, “It was just so out of nowhere.”

“Oh, so what would you wish for?” Daniil sighed and returned to his former position, watching Artemy as he thought about it himself.

“I would…You know what? More nights like these is not a bad wish.”

“That’s cheating, you can’t copy my wish.”

“It’s just a hypothetical, Danya.”

“Still cheating,” Daniil grunted but still pressed himself closer as Artemy chuckled, gently stroking his hair.

As they returned their sight to the void above, to the myriad of shining stars, both eagerly waited for one to fall across the sky.

So their wish could come true.