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Chapter Text

If you'd asked Aloy yesterday, she'd have brazenly told you she could take down a pack of Burrowers in her sleep. But here she is, essentially trying to do exactly that, and a Burrower lands a cracking blow to her hip, sending her rolling, choking on sand and her own surprise. 

The injury is good for one thing– the sharp jolt of the initial pain and the throbbing wave that follows sends adrenaline rocketing through her system, shaking her out of the haze of exhaustion that got her in this mess in the first place. She switches to her short-range warrior bow, firing a quick succession of shock arrows to stun the machine in place, mentally berating herself for not having done so in the first place. She does the same for the other one, halting it before it can finish digging up a rock to launch her way. It’s quick work with her spear from there. 

After dealing with the two Burrowers that had caught her off guard, erupting out of the ground as she rooted through a scrap pile in the Stillsands (a stupid, careless mistake– of course there would be machines nearby, but she'd taken one cursory look around and then set to), Aloy reluctantly inspects her injury, testing the weight her leg can hold with a wince. It's difficult to judge if the pain is serious– her whole body has been aching for days– but she can walk normally. 

Lucky, she thinks, but she knows she can’t risk another fight today. Even thinking about her bedroll makes her shudder, but she carefully checks the horizon for other dangers– blinking hard when, for a moment, she sees the distant lumbering figure of a Tallneck where she knows one does not patrol. How a few simple nightmares could spiral so far out of control, Aloy doesn’t know, but she dreads closing her eyes more than she does dealing with the relentless headache and the nausea she's been swallowing back all week. 

Still, if she’s so tired she can’t even scavenge safely, it’s time to give it up for the day and find a place to camp.

- Three Weeks Ago -

Aloy is dreaming. 

She knows that she is, because Varl is here, walking beside her through the lush green valley of the Embrace, even though she can vividly remember his death. They're talking about nothing in a way they never quite managed in life– their friendship, her first ever, was always circled around and interrupted by the Mission. It’s bittersweet, knowing this isn’t real, the foggy edges of the scenery and the way she knows the conversation is light and easy even though she can’t actually understand any words, but Aloy relaxes into it anyway, taking what she can get. 

There’s a warmth in her heart that feels like carrying a candle in her hands, and there’s a gentle smile on her face as she watches Varl laugh, throwing his head back with the force of it. She’s just beginning to chuckle alongside him when everything goes wrong. 

Varl chokes, breaking off mid-word, clutching at his chest. Aloy can only watch, frozen in place, uselessly paralyzed by her own horror, as blood seeps between his fingers, the wound chillingly familiar. He falls to his knees, staring up at her pleadingly as blood begins to drip from his mouth, and she can’t do anything, she– 

Aloy snaps awake, her room lit only by the ember on the shelf by her bed. She usually finds the flickering gleam charming, smiles as she turns it on whenever she sleeps here, but now she’s cursing the dim light as she sits up and peers around the room, as if she’ll find Varl bleeding out in a corner, just waiting for her help. There's a long terrible moment where she can still hear him wheezing before she realizes that's her, that her chest is heaving, like she's just climbed from the Daunt's valley floor to the top of a watch tower at a sprint. 

It's awful. 

Closed away inside the mountain as the Base is, the only way to know the time is to check her Focus. Aloy reaches for hers with a lightly trembling hand and finds she's only been asleep for a few hours. Rolling to her feet, she resolves that that will have to do. There's no way she'll get any more rest tonight. 

At first it seems like a one-off: she’s tired for the rest of the day, but she sleeps peacefully that night. The next night: another nightmare. She tries to shake it off and go back to sleep, to get a full rest, but she only has another. 

She can’t work out the pattern. She’ll get a good night’s sleep and spend a normal– albeit quiet, for her– day helping Beta pour through the Apollo database, and then toss and turn until the wee hours of the morning, haunted by her past and new imagined terrors alike. Some nights nothing even happens in the dream– Aloy simply runs, pulse racing as she tries to outpace an ever-building sense of doom until she startles awake, sheets damp with sweat and reaching for a weapon.

After nearly a week of this, stressed enough to ignore her better judgment and already dodging pointed looks of concern from her sister, Aloy tries to drink herself to sleep. She knows people do that– and she also knows it’s dangerous– but Just once can’t hurt, right? Just one time to ‘reset’ her stupid brain.

She sneaks into the common room after Beta retires back downstairs, unwilling to explain herself and knowing her sister would object to her plan if she did. As quickly as Aloy can, she chugs down a tankard, poured from one of the kegs Erend left behind. 

The bitter burst of hops on her tongue reminds her of staying up late and swapping stories with him, sitting closer and closer on his usual bench and laughing til she’s red in the face. Aloy catches herself staring at the empty seat until her heart pangs with how much she misses his booming voice, and she makes herself look away. The alcohol is already rushing to her head, and combined with the general fog of her recent restless nights, that she might long for anyone just annoys her. 

She has a sudden vivid mental image of leaning on Erend’s shoulder, closing her eyes and falling asleep. The bench itself isn’t that comfortable, but he radiates heat, and she can’t imagine waking up afraid with him right there beside her. The pang returns, but Aloy dismisses the thought with a frown, refills her mug and knocks it back again. 

Thinking that’ll be enough, she wobbles to her bed and sits there, idly swaying for a bit, muzzy but not drowsy. She can’t make herself lay down– the whole point of this is supposed to be that she won’t have to try to sleep. Frustrated and bleary-eyed, Aloy drags herself back to the counter for a third drink, more than she’s ever had at once. It seems to do the trick though, because when she stumbles back to her bed, she flops over onto her side without quite meaning to. The ceiling is spinning, but all Aloy feels is relief. Full eight hours, here I come. 

And the good news is, she does sleep through the night. The bad news is, what she really achieves is eight hours of nightmares that she can’t wake up from, weighed down by the alcohol and unable to claw her way back to consciousness. 

She soars above the Tenakth lands on the back of her new Sunwing, to the Grove, ready to drop the shock canister and end the rebellion but she’s too late. As she circles above the ancient museum all she sees are still bodies and burning wreckage, no sign of Kotallo, her calls for him echoing through the sky to no one.

She demands that Tilda open the line to Beta, demands to speak with her before any plan can move forward, and Tilda agrees. As the simulation spreads around the room, she looks around for any sign of her sister, and what she finds is Beta, locked in whatever tortures the Zeniths are running on her Focus, screaming, screaming, screaming.

She’s outside the gates of Mother’s Heart, the morning of the Proving, and Rost is walking away from her. She cries out for him to wait, to turn around, to listen to her until her voice goes hoarse, but her feet are frozen to the ground, and she can’t follow.

On and on, seemingly endless.

The throbbing headache and heavy knot in her stomach that she wakes up with are the least of her worries. She’s shivering, and not sure if it’s a lingering fear or the fact that she sweat through her top and the fabric is rapidly cooling against her skin. Even after Aloy gets her breathing under control and cleans herself up, she’s tense and jumpy for hours. She catches herself turning the ‘memory’ of Beta’s screams over and over in her mind, shuddering every time it slides back into focus but unable to shove it away for good. 

The benefits of a full night’s sleep, and she does have a more level head than she has in days, are overshadowed by the terrible sense of foreboding that haunts her all day. Not worth it, she decides firmly, and doesn’t try drinking again. 

Already out of ideas, things get steadily worse from there. 

Aloy finds herself staying up late every night, putting off going to bed for as long as she can with any busy work she can beg off of Beta. She skates by on three or four hours of sleep a day, and it's not ideal, but she's done it before. She's managing fine. If dark shadows creep in under her eyes and she bites the inside of her cheeks raw to keep from nodding off over the workbench, well that never killed anyone. 

And she should be happy– is happy– that her sister is recovering and moving through their little safehaven with more confidence, but it also means that it’s nigh impossible to hide her…problem from Beta for long. The younger girl is just too observant, and, under her timidity, every bit as nosy as Aloy is herself. 

After a typical day spent working together in the main room, mostly quiet but occasionally grabbing the other’s attention to share an interesting or potentially useful datapoint, Beta is lingering, hesitating at the stairwell rather than turning in for bed. Aloy raises her eyebrows at her, wondering if she’ll voice whatever she wants to say unprompted, and is pleased and proud when Beta does. 

“Um, so,” she starts, and it’s not confident but it is a start. “You don’t look so good?” 

Well she was pleased. Aloy tries to paste on a warm everything-is-totally-normal smile. “I’m fine.” 

Beta frowns and shakes her head, nothing making her more likely to push back than being told that she's wrong. “No, I mean, you look pretty bad, to be honest.” She could at least look sorry when she says that. Beta continues, “Tired. And I can hear you sometimes, at night?”

Aloy crosses her arms across her chest, but hangs onto her smile through willpower alone. “It’s just some bad dreams,” she says and repeats, “I’m fine, promise.” 

“Ok.” Aloy’s a little insulted by how clearly Beta does not believe her– she does not look that bad, thank you. “Well, um,” Beta says, “It’s been a while since you went out.” 

“I’m helping with Apollo,” Aloy says, pointlessly, as if her sister can’t remember what they were doing 10 minutes ago. “Besides,” she says gently, “I’m not going to leave you here alone.” 

Beta smiles, but it’s still tinged with concern. “I appreciate that, really. But, you know, Sylens will be back any day now.”

Now Aloy’s a lot insulted. “You’d rather work with Sylens than with me?” 

“No!” The appalled look on Beta’s face soothes most of the sting. “I mean, he is brilliant, but he’s also very unpleasant.” Aloy snorts at the understatement, which Beta ignores. “That said, and I know I’m one to talk, but Aloy, you need to get some fresh air. I’ll be fine. And I can call you if I’m not.” 

Aloy’s heart jumps at the suggestion, and the instant lightening of her mood has her wanting to immediately agree. She shifts her weight towards her door, and then the guilt slams in, at the thought of just walking out and leaving Beta alone. But what if it would help? A couple days in the sun, work up a sweat and sleep the whole night through. It sounds like just what she needs.

Aloy bites her lip, asks hesitantly, “If you’re sure it’s ok?” 

“Yes,” Beta says firmly. “Go. And you will call me if you’re not ok. Right?”

Aloy nods absentmindedly, already thinking through what she’ll need to pack. “Yeah. Of course.” 

It’s like a weight has lifted off her chest, breath coming easy and she’s not even out of the mountain yet. As she refills her potion pouches and different quivers, she’s thrumming with an energy she’s lacked– if she’s being honest– for much longer than the past week, since the Base emptied out and her allies went their separate ways, since she heard the quiet echo through empty metal rooms and faced down the fact that she wasn’t needed anywhere. 

Well, someone out there is bound to ask me to find their long lost pet rabbit or something. And she’d do it gladly too. After saying her goodbyes to Beta– and receiving another assurance that yes, really, it’s ok to leave– Aloy decides to tame a Bristleback and do some resource gathering while she makes her way towards Scalding Spear. Get my hands in the dirt again, and get my head on straight. 

It even works for a few days. Until it doesn’t. 

- Now - 

Aloy hasn't actually ridden the Bristleback in days. It's too easy to nod off while the machine does all the steering. After the second time she woke up halfway to the ground, a scream caught between her teeth at the utter certainty that she was falling falling falling from the cliff at the Proving, Rost looking down on her as fire burst around him– yeah, Aloy prefers to walk alongside, keeping the machine around more for security than anything else. 

She's clearly pushed as far as she can manage today, and she's lucky she wasn't hurt worse. Whistling for her Bristleback to come back from where it’s wandered off digging, Aloy checks her Focus, ignoring the way the icons on the map wiggle and dance in her vision, and marks a nearby shelter. It’s hours still from sunset, but it’s not like she’s keeping a regular schedule anyway. Might as well get what rest she can now and then travel by night. She’ll be safer from bandits that way anyway. 

The funny thing, Aloy thinks as she marches along, and it isn't funny, but the scenery feels like it’s passing her by behind a thick layer of ancient warped glass, and she’s giggling before she even completes the thought, the funny thing is that I'm dragging myself around like this and I don't even have anything to do. 

She staggers, losing her balance as she laughs, feeling a little hysterical, and what's she even laughing at? Oh, right. The Savior, The Champion, completely useless because she doesn’t have a tribe to rally! What a joke! 

Aloy realizes she’s swaying on her feet, lightheaded from laughing with tears in her eyes, and she has to clap her hand over her mouth to make herself stop. She stays like that for a moment, mentally trying to find some even ground, riding out the most recent spike in the wild mood swings she’s been enduring. 

Standing tall again, she looks around and frowns through the daze that sets in. What was I…? Aloy takes in her surroundings. Burrower remains. A scrap pile. Both a few feet back from her because she’d already started walking. She shifts her weight and her right hip twinges. Right. Dumb injury, time to make camp. If she's this punch drunk, it's definitely time to give it up. 

Shaking her head at herself, Aloy pulls up the map on her Focus to look for a nearby shelter, only to flinch when she sees she’s already marked one. “Shit,” she whispers shakily, and then shoves down the swell of alarm, the knowledge that this is not sustainable. It’s…beyond obvious that sleep is important for resting your body and for healing. Rost had told her often enough that she can hear his voice clearly– you must care for your body as well as any other tool. But she’s never considered how necessary sleep is for the mind. 

Aloy keeps stumbling into new side-effects of her exhaustion, but she doesn’t know what to do about them (she does– sleep– but she can’t). 

With a sigh, Aloy reaches into her pouch and pulls out her last stamina tonic, knocking back the uncomfortably yellow liquid with a grimace. She feels like she can taste the tart vigorstem all the time now, like she's coated her tongue and no amount of water can wash the sting away. In the back of her mind, Aloy knows full well that Rost would be furious if he knew how much she was abusing the envigorating draught, but she pushes the little nagging voice away. She needs it to make this last push. 

- Two Weeks Ago - 

Aloy slips back into the same pattern she fell into at the Base, snatching a few hours of fitful ‘rest’ just before dawn each night, but now out in the wild.

At first, she considers taking the opportunity to check-in on her friends, but at the same time, she doesn’t want anyone to find out about her problem. Beta’s only known her for a couple of months, and she saw right through Aloy insisting that she was fine. 

Aloy can clearly imagine the look on Erend’s face if he found out how little she was sleeping. Cringing away from her memory of how worry cuts deep lines between his brows, she resolves to steer clear of Hidden Ember. She won’t bother him with something as childish as bad dreams– Aloy can wait until she gets herself under control. 

She can also clearly imagine Zo taking one look at her and knocking her out 'for her own good', so heading back East is a strong no. She wanders the Tenakth lands instead, picking up little odd jobs here and there along the trail. 

She keeps expecting to just…get better. Like if she just waits it out, let’s herself reach the right level of exhaustion, she’ll be too tired to dream. And if she can have one dreamless night, then she’ll have more right? It’s like climbing, she just needs to push past this peak, and then she’ll be moving downhill, find stable footing again. 

But instead she just keeps pushing, hauling herself up the endless cliff face of her fatigue. 

She’s back in the Daunt, that first sunny day when she found Erend again. They beam at each other across the field and then, just as she remembers, a Bristleback knocks him to the ground and he’s forced to retreat. Finishing the three machines is easy, but when she turns back to the watchtower, Erend doesn’t come back down. She calls his name but he doesn’t respond and neither does Aldur. 

Aloy climbs up, tense, and as soon as her face clears the top of the platform and she can see, she’s throwing herself the rest of the way up, scrambling forward and shouldering Aldur aside to press her own hands to gore wound in Erend’s side. Blood is already pooling around him and she desperately leans her whole weight into staunching it, crying his name again. He looks up at her, blues eyes glazed and his mouth twisted in a grimace. She expects him to deflect or joke, try to reassure her, but instead he speaks through clenched teeth, “I guess this is sort of like a goodbye.”

“W-what?”

“People like me, we fought and bled at your side, Aloy, and you just… disappear? What kind of person does that?” He’s so…he’s so angry. Sneering like she only ever sees him do when he’s talking about Dervahl or Jiran. That look leveled at her knocks the breath out of her like a punch to gut. 

“I’m sorry,” she gasps, realizing for the first time that she’s crying, still trying to hold him together, “I’m sorry, Erend, please, stay with me, I’m sor-”

“You? Sorry? That'd be a first.” He chokes on his own laugh, blood running between his teeth, spilling onto his chin.

“No, no, no” she whispers and then shouts, his head falls back limp, still glaring through sightless eyes, he’s stopped breathing – Aloy wakes heaving, drags herself to her hands and knees just in time to miss her bedroll as she throws up the meager dinner she’d forced down. 

It takes her a long time to stop shaking, and longer still to muster the will to crawl back to her bedding. She’s using everything she has to keep a tight lock on her thoughts, to keep her mind blank and empty and not acknowledge the blood she can clearly see still dripping off her hands. She knows it isn’t real and because it isn’t real, she doesn’t need to think about it. She won’t think about it. 

If she pulls her hands through the sand more than she needs to as she moves, and then naturally needs to wipe the grit away before laying down again, well that’s a coincidence. 

She tries again for sleep and she’s back in the Sun Ring, still locked in that damn cage with Helis sneering down at her. But rather than dropping her into the arena to fight, he slams the door open and steps inside, looming over her– when did she fall down? 

Aloy can’t move, powerless, unable to fight back when he lifts her into the air by her throat, can’t even kick her feet uselessly the way she knows she did when this actually happened. A knife appears in Helis’ hand, glinting in the harsh desert sun, and this isn’t real, it’s just a dream but she wakes up screaming anyway, the first one she isn’t able to hold back. 

She has to throw her camp together quickly, on her feet and running through the tall grass back towards the main road before her heart has time to slow, fearful the noise will attract machines or lingering rebels. Running off the adrenaline feels good though, the motion making her pulse pounding in her ears feel a little more natural, and that too becomes routine. The first time she shoots awake, she gets up immediately, gets on the move again, doesn't try for more sleep until she has to. 

The cycle repeats, over and over again, every time Aloy closes her eyes, and for all that her body is desperate for sleep, turning in for the night starts to feel like pulling teeth. Sweat on her brow and hands shaking, she’s afraid before she even closes her eyes. 

Soon Aloy has to grit her teeth and force herself to lay down just for an hour at a time, a few times a day, in between the machine hunts and simple favors she can find people to ask her to do. It is nice to be helpful, to take a little of the load off of villages and wandering traders that are still recovering from the months of blight and storms. But it still wears at her, knowing that “I need five goose eggs to prove to these hardheaded soldiers that eating a good meal is important” just doesn’t measure up against the work everyone else is doing to prepare for Nemesis. 

It's during one such simple task that Drakka gives her the idea for stamina potions. 

“The flame of the desert!” he crows at the sight of her. She’s in Scalding Spear to deliver the Sunwing sparkers she was asked for, and is in the process of sifting through a vendor’s wares for anything she might use herself. Drakka swaggers up with his usual smirk, always looking like he’s at least a little up to no good– until he gets a good look at Aloy. 

His face falls into concern, the same care he shows all of his people, determined not to lose anyone else. “Actually, you’re not looking so hot.” 

“Shut up,” she scoffs, trying to shrug off the concern, hoping he’ll wander away. She needs every bit of concentration she can muster: the coils in the box she’s combing through blur together if she doesn’t squint her eyes to make them focus, and she keeps losing track of what she’s even looking for if she doesn’t actively repeat it to herself in her head. 

But Drakka doesn’t leave, kneeling beside her and pestering her to admit what’s wrong. Finally Aloy huffs, “I’m just tired.”

“What, Outlanders don’t know about vigorstems?” 

Aloy scoffs again, louder. “I know about vigorstems, you- Oh!” The question actually lands, settling into context. “Vigorstems!” Drakka laughs at the wide-eyed realization in her face, but she ignores him and rifles through her bag, wondering why this never occurred to her before. 

Grabbing a stamina tonic, she uncorks it immediately and downs it in one go. A surge of energy rushes through her limbs, her head clearing, and Aloy feels herself beam. Drakka grins back, smug but she’ll allow it this time. She claps him on the shoulder in thanks– maybe a little harder than she has to, but he was teasing her. “I’ve never used this outside of a fight before. Good idea!” 

Drakka rocks back with the impact but his smile doesn’t waver. “Oh, we drink those babies like the blood of our enemies out here,” he says with a wink. Aloy is, as always, reluctantly charmed. “Whatever it takes to keep moving out in the desert, yeah? That should keep you going until you can rest up.”

Aloy hums noncommittally as he continues, waggling his eyebrows, “You know, you could stay here for a night? Or a few?”

She rolls her eyes, moment broken. “No,” she says firmly. “I promised healing salves to a trader south of here. I’ll head out soon.”

“Your loss, Desert Flame!” 

- Now -

The closest shelter is nearer to Hidden Ember than Aloy’s really comfortable with. Even with the sun still up, she can see the city’s lights in the distance. 

Aloy knows that she looks awful: her face is drawn and pale save for the dark circles under her eyes, her hair is dry and some of her braids have gotten pretty ratty but she keeps forgetting to redo them. She’s lost weight and needs to tighten the buckles on different segments of her armor. With the sorry state she’s in, Aloy is more determined than ever that none of her companions see her like this.

Saying goodbye to Erend after spending the days immediately following the defeat of the Zeniths practically attached at the hip– following each other around the Base, Erend apparently equally unwilling to let her out of his sight as the tension from the buildup up to the battle finally breaks– saying goodbye has been hard enough. She can’t greet him again looking dead on her feet. 

As she makes camp, securing her supplies in the chest and laying out her bedroll, Aloy’s not sure if she’s shaking because she’s strung out on elixirs or because she’s really started to lose control of her hands. There’s a moment when she sits down where she swears she’s watching her hands sink into the earth, and she blinks furiously, trying to resolve her vision into something that makes sense. It does settle after a moment, and she doesn’t know what to do other than swallow down the accompanying rolling wave of nausea. 

This isn’t the first time her eyes have played tricks on her in the past few weeks and Aloy knows she’s long past the point where she shouldn’t be on the road by herself anymore. But what else can she do? She ignores Varl’s voice in her head, telling her for the 100th time to ask for help. This is different. This isn’t the mission. It’s just me.

Ironically, this is when Beta calls. 

“Aloy?”

The problem is that Aloy’s heard her own name on the wind in so many different voices today that she doesn’t react until the third or fourth time Beta says it, which is not a great way to start a Focus call with her anxious little sister. 

“Beta! Hey! Yes, hi, I’m here, sorry,” she rushes to try and reassure, but Beta isn’t having it. 

“Didn’t you hear me? Why didn’t you say anything? I was so-” 

“I’m sorry! It was just…maybe some weird interference, I don’t know.” Aloy searches for a believable excuse. “You were really quiet, but now I can hear you loud and clear, ok?” 

There’s a beat of dubious silence before she hears Beta sigh. “Fine. Um, anyway. I guess I was just calling to check on you? Because you haven’t called, and you’ve been gone for a while? Are you feeling any better?” 

“I’m fine. Why wouldn’t I be fine?” 

“...Because you’ve been gone for a month?” 

It doesn’t feel like a month. It feels like she left the Base yesterday, and also like she’s been trudging through the Stillsands for as long as she can remember. Aloy sits on short stool by the unlit fire and blinks unseeingly at the horizon. I’ve been doing this for a month, really? Suddenly she’s facing down a future where this never gets better, where she’s always this tired and stressed and confused, and it’s like the bottom drops out of the floor. She’s stationary on the chair and she’s also falling into a pit, and she thinks she stops breathing, but Beta’s calling her name.

“Aloy? Aloy!” 

“I’m here!” Aloy lets out a shuddering breath she hopes the younger woman can’t hear. “Here, sorry.”

“Are you sure you’re ok?” Aloy can picture her pacing, and hunches her shoulders at the sure knowledge that she’s frightening her when she has enough on her plate. 

“Of course I am. I’m just a little tired, Beta, don’t worry.” 

Beta hmm’s in response but doesn’t press further, instead asking “Where are you?” 

“Just made camp.” 

“It seems kind of early for that?” 

It’s Aloy’s turn to hum and hope that passes for a response. 

Beta’s still asking questions: “Where are you though?”

Aloy’s brows furrow. “A shelter?” 

Beta huffs, “Yes, but where Aloy?” 

Aloy’s head hurts. She wants to end the call, get the trying-to-sleep part done and over with already. She has the frustrated feeling that she’s missing something obvious, but she cannot figure out what Beta’s missing. “Where what,” Aloy asks. Didn’t she already say?

There’s a longer pause, and Aloy uses it to move to her bedroll, laying down and blinking blearily at the sky. 

Beta speaks again, but all of the annoyance has disappeared from her voice. “Aloy,” she starts. “Can you tell me what you can see?” 

“What I can see,” Aloy repeats, incredulous. She can feel blood rushing to her cheeks, sure that she’s failed at something but not understanding what. It makes her temper spike and she sits back up, snapping “What kind of question is that?”

“Just…humor me, ok? Look around.” 

“Ugh, fine. Sand. Rocks. Uh. The lights over Hidden Ember.” 

“Oh, that’s perfect! Ok, great. Thanks Aloy. Get some rest! Bye!” 

Aloy opens and closes her mouth a few times, startled at the abrupt end to the conversation. She can’t say that made any sense to her, but sure. She wanted to stop talking anyway. 

Aloy sucks in a deep breath and lets it out slowly, rolling her shoulders like she’s stretching out before a pit fight. No more stalling. She lays down and closes her eyes, and unconsciousness rises up to claim her in moments.

She sleeps in fits and starts, refusing to give in to the impulse to flee when she shoots awake the first time, but also growing increasingly desperate as she opens her eyes to sun's-still-up and knows she barely slept at all. 

After she wakes for the third time, crying from a mixture of exhaustion and frustration, anxiety an ever-present current jolting beneath both, Aloy gives up. Even crying makes her tired– she barely has the energy to sit up, hugging her knees to her chest, tears still running down her face. The sun is slowly sinking towards the horizon, the sky streaked in oranges and reds, and Aloy loses time like that, just sitting and staring, shivering with a chill she knows can’t be real while the sun is still hovering above the horizon. 

A vulture caws, breaking the stillness, startling her back into awareness and Aloy moans at the way her head pounds. Hidden Ember’s lightshow catches her eye again, brighter against the darkening sky, and a longing swells in her, high enough in her chest that she feels it in the back of her throat, that she thinks she could choke on it. 

She can picture it so clearly– Erend wrapping one arm around her again, and she could lean all of her weight on him and he probably wouldn’t even notice he was holding her up. If she fell asleep, it would be ok, because he’d be there when she woke up.

Maybe enough is enough. 

It takes her longer than it should to roll up her bedroll, needing two tries to fasten the buckle that holds it together. Aloy shoulders her pack with a weary groan, but if she can trudge on for another hour or two, she’ll find a soft place to land. 

She can’t have been walking long before she hears the whine and scrape of metal-on-metal, thudding impacts– a heavy machine approaching, and fast. Frantic, Aloy sprints for the nearest cover, a patch of tall grass, and slides in, head whipping around. She can see blue lights to her left, but can’t make out the machine type. It’s running straight for her, must have seen her already, and she’s worried she’ll lose time to take a shot if she goes for her Focus first. She knocks a hardpoint arrow, but her aim– the shot glances harmlessly off of an armor plate, a result of the persistent tremor in her hands that she can’t still.

She can see the machine more clearly now, and her situation is much more dire than a couple of surprise Burrowers. The Ravager, mercifully alone, will be far too much for her.

The same tremor causes her to fumble her reload, and Aloy has to launch herself into a roll away from the Ravager’s lunge, can hear its claws tearing through sand and rock just behind her. She staggers forward, turning to face the enraged machine with her spear in hand, trying to whistle for her Bristleback through bone dry lips. She doesn’t know what else to do and what a stupid, stupid way to die– 

“Aloy!” She jumps about a foot in the air as a gloved hand closes around her arm, unthinkingly turning her head aways from the machine to stare in utter disbelief at Erend who hasn’t even pulled his hammer off his back, who’s smiling at her with his eyebrows raised like she’s surprised him, who can’t be here right now. Then she remembers, and flinches hard, whipping back around to face…nothing? 

Aloy’s mouth falls open as she gapes, soundlessly, at the smoothly sifting sand before her, no machines in sight. She turns to Erend again, sparing a thought for how she must look, double-taking at nothing. His mouth is moving, but there’s no sound, or it’s just drowned out by the blood rushing in her ears, but she feels herself smile at him anyway.

Sheer relief is crashing into her, alongside the realization that the hallucinations are getting much worse, a dizzying mix of elation and dread that sends black spots swirling through her vision. Her legs give out, Erend’s grip on her arm quickly mirrored on her other side, as he turns her fall into more of a controlled sink, down into the sand. She blinks rapidly up at him, trying to keep his face in focus, trying to read his lips and figure out what he’s saying, but she loses the battle as she slips back into unconsciousness. 

Chapter Text

- Four Weeks Ago -

Returning to the Base after defeating the Zeniths is strange.

They spend the first night camping out there, in the Far Zenith Base, everyone too exhausted to suggest getting back in the boats, especially after Aloy explains that they’re not done, that Nemesis is coming. In the morning, Beta leads them to the databanks, and the sisters reclaim Apollo and Eleuthia, find Gaia, a relief considering Hephaestus has eluded them again. 

The group pokes around for anything worth taking that can’t wait for a return trip, Sylens and Alva the most enthusiastic among them, and Aloy tries to summon her usual curiosity, but the Zenith technology just doesn’t hook her interest like Old One ruins and relics do. All she can picture when she tries to imagine wearing their shields or using their weapons is the future Tilda had wanted for her, and chills run down her spine. 

Before the sun rises too high, they set out for their own Base, the trip taking most of the day.

Returning should feel good– they didn’t lose anyone (else), Beta is safe, they’re all together– but they’re also staring down the sights at yet another threat to life on Earth. Alva and Erend make a valiant effort to keep everyone focused on their victory, and Aloy tries to play along, but mostly she’s just tired, before the next mission has even begun. 

They spend dinner recounting their roles in the fight, and there’s much back-slapping and toasting by everyone, save for Sylens, who claims a serving of dinner and slinks off to the lab as soon as the food is ready. 

After the Battle of the Alight, the celebration had been too much to bear. The sheer noise from all of Meridian taking to the streets was overwhelming enough, but Aloy was also wrestling with not knowing how to say goodbye or who all she should say it to– get everyone together? one at a time? how does she explain what she needs to do next? what if they’re upset– Aloy took the easy way out, fled into the night.

This night feels so different. She’s surrounded by the people dearest to her, only a few faces missing. They can crowd around a single table, and while voices are echoing in the metal room, occasionally competing to be heard over one another, this is a volume level she’s grown accustomed to. She's tired but she's content too, as long as she's focusing on right now. 

Aloy's squeezed in between Erend and Beta, her sister(!) on the outside edge of the booth in case she needs to make a quick escape, and Aloy’s face is flush with the warmth of two people pressed to her sides. As Erend and Kotallo bicker about whose tribe has the best drinking songs, Zo rolling her eyes behind them while Alva tries to mediate, Beta giggling into her hands, Aloy doesn't want this night to end. She wishes this moment could stretch out forever, that she could rest in it, bask in its glow, and save the work to come for a different tomorrow. 

They all hold off the dawn as long as they can, but slowly, one-by-one, give in to time and go to bed. As Alva yawns, the second to stand, Aloy glances up at Erend, still pressed shoulder to shoulder with her because she hasn't moved away, even with Beta gone, leaving more room to spread out. She catches him watching her with soft eyes, and knows he'll stay up as late as she does. She wants that. But she also doesn't want to be the reason he's tired tomorrow, costing him the rest he deserves just because she's feeling sentimental. Instead she returns his smile, but makes her excuses and retreats to her room. 

Over the following week, Aloy struggles with the lack of clear next steps, her frustration compounded by everyone else either stepping smoothly into a useful role or seemingly unbothered by a few days of rest. 

Zo is caring for everyone’s wounds, no one having left the island completely unscathed, helping Beta recover from the high stress of her last few days, and tending to Varl’s flowers. Beta and Sylens immediately bend their minds to the problem of Hephaestus, asking questions and proposing (and discarding) technobabble solutions faster than even Alva can keep up with. Aloy, so used to being the only person in the room to truly understand ancient technology, finds herself completely lost listening to their conversations. 

Alva is wrapping up her research, organizing the data she’s combed through for weeks into neat files of notes and her own recordings, into something she can present to her people to start them working on Leviathan. 

Kotallo doesn’t need to find a place in the Base again because he’s the first to leave. After only the one night’s rest, he pulls Aloy aside to declare his intention to rejoin Hekkaro. When he later shares his imminent departure with everyone, he’s calm and self-assured as he explains that he remains fully committed to the mission, and that he will rally the Tenakth to support Aloy as well. It’s a good idea, tactical as always from the experienced Marshal, and Aloy can see it start to turn over in everyone’s heads. 

The problem is that’s not something Aloy thinks she can do. She knows she has influence, that she’s made many connections with the different tribes and people listen to her. She’d have to walk around with her eyes closed and ears plugged to miss the accolades and admiration that follow in her wake– sometimes she wishes she could. But her friends and allies are the ones best suited to recruit their own people. Aloy might ease the way by being a known entity, someone who has helped the tribe in the past, but she thinks it’s only reasonable to assume that an outsider can't commit any leader to all-out war with an unknowable threat. 

Who could Aloy alone bring to the fight? She can’t even imagine asking the Nora. She tries to picture walking back into the Embrace without Varl by her side, handing out Focuses to the Matriarchs, but the mental image just won’t form. It’s almost laughable how badly that would go. 

She shakes the thought away with a wry smile to say goodbye to Kotallo, ignoring the curious look he gives her in return and just asking him to check in when he arrives at the Grove. He leaves swiftly, too soon for her, and Aloy’s grateful that the others linger, taking respite while they can.

As the days pass slowly, she finds that she and Erend are the only ones without anything pressing to do around the Base, so without needing to discuss it, they fall into doing nothing together. And it's nice. She's surprised by how nice it is. They tinker with their weapons and armor, trading tools and suggestions for improvements. They play Strike, her beating him every time but Erend seemingly happy to lose to her over and over, always meeting her eyes with a wide, easy smile over the board. They talk– just sit and talk for hours, she doesn’t think she’s ever talked so much. 

Aloy tentatively tells stories about Rost, warms to the topic when Erend meets her with interest instead of sympathy, describes trailing after him through the tall grass as a child, not even needing to crouch. She can remember being very small and thinking it was so funny that Rost was crawling around on the ground, not really understanding the need to hide despite Rost explaining it repeatedly. Erend reciprocates with lighthearted memories of Ersa whipping the Vanguard into shape after nights he and his fellow newly-ex-Freebooters picked "completely justified" fights in Meridian with Carja guardsmen. 

They both carefully talk around their losses, unwilling to disturb the peace, but it's the most she's ever said about Rost to another person, and even though they don’t talk about Varl it makes her think of him and that he might be proud of her, and it's just nice, in a way Aloy’s never felt before. 

But then the rest of her friends start to leave.

Alva goes first, needing to return to Landfall. She too promises to recruit her people to the coming fight against Nemesis, and Aloy sees her off as warmly as she can, but a sour taste settles in the back of her mouth. And it grows from there, down her throat, weighing her down, a resentment she doesn't want to feel as Zo pulls her in for a hug and says her goodbyes, knowing that everyone has next steps while she waits, stuck in a holding pattern, for the first time since childhood. Sylens is the fire arrow in the blaze barrel of her sinking mood, of course finding a way to dig at her on his way out to gather supplies and designs from former workspaces. 

He glances significantly towards Beta, pouring through Apollo data at the counter, and then looks back at Aloy with one eyebrow raised, a superior expression that immediately gets her hackles up. “There’s much still for you to learn,” he drawls. “Try to catch up.” His voice drips with disdain and Aloy is struck with the familiar urge to punch him in the mouth, knows he can see it in her face because he scoffs and continues, “Perhaps you can make yourself useful to your…better half while I’m away.” 

Aloy seethes as he sweeps out the door, but finds she has nothing to say. 

When Erend leaves the next day, he jokes halfheartedly that he needs to get a move on before he wears out his welcome, that he's going to lose his edge lazing around. Before Aloy can argue, he’s citing his intention to unite the Oseram behind her, starting in Hidden Ember, and heading for the door. 

Aloy can barely drag a smile on to see him off with. Erend clearly senses her dour mood, as he raises an arm as if to pull her into a hug, like he had at Far Zenith, but drops it uncertainly when she just stares. It's not resentment she feels anymore as she waves at him from the western ledge– the sourness shatters, scattering into a jittery anxiety in her chest that she doesn't understand. 

She has the first dream that same night. 

- Now -

Aloy moans weakly, exhausted and annoyed, as she’s pulled back up out of sleep by someone patting gently at her cheek. 

When she pries her eyes open she’s greeted by Erend leaning over her, letting out a sigh of relief as she meets his gaze, but still looking worried. “There you are,” he breathes, and Aloy has to wonder where here is, taking in her position with confusion– she has no memory of laying down but she finds herself laid prone across Erend’s lap as he kneels in the sand. Her legs are sprawled across the ground, but at least she probably doesn’t have sand in her hair, Erend carefully supporting her neck and head with one arm. It takes her a moment to understand what he’s doing, why he’s systematically running his other hand down each of her arms, her stomach, reaching for her legs, before it clicks that he’s checking her for injuries. 

He looks so serious, eyes focused, jaw tense, and Aloy’s head clears a little as she rushes to reassure him. 

“Hey, I’m fine,” she tries to say, but needs to clear her throat and try again when her voice comes out rough. Erend darts his eyes up to hers and then goes back to gently probing the back of her head and neck as if she hasn’t spoken, a pressure that’s surprisingly soothing to her headache. “No, really Erend. I’m ok,” she insists, more strongly. 

Erend hums in disbelief, but finally meets her gaze. “I’m no doctor, but I don’t think people who are ‘fine’ roll around in the desert fighting nobody and then pass out for no reason.” He cups her face in his free hand, peering into her eyes intently, asking “Where are you hurt?” 

His thumb sweeps absently across her cheekbone, leaving her skin warm in its wake, and Aloy’s eyes flutter closed again as she sighs. That’s nice… she thinks, the throb in her temples that’s undercut her every waking moment for weeks finally fading a little. She can’t pull her eyes back open and honestly she doesn’t want to, trusting Erend to hold her up as she leans more fully into him. 

“Aloy!” His voice cuts through the fog that’s settled in, almost a shout, enough to capture her attention again. 

“What?” she groans, wondering why he’s being so loud when she’s here and he’s here and she feels like she’s finally put down a weight she didn’t know she was carrying. 

He shakes her a little, arm tightening around her, the frantic note in his voice feeling so disconnected from the content lethargy she's floating in. “Aloy, look at me, stay awake!” 

The instant a plea to ‘stay awake’ hits her ears, Aloy starts laughing, she can’t help it. If he only knew! But then she can’t stop, reeling with helpless giggles even as she obediently forces her eyes open. 

Her laughter cuts off immediately– all the color has drained out of Erend’s face, he looks afraid. Aloy’s heart lurches into overdrive and she pulls herself up by one hand on his shoulder, looking around, trying to identify the threat. She’s seen him make that face before, before running to his sister in a cold, quiet cell, and whatever is causing it now, she needs to make it stop.  

But there’s nothing– just sand shifting in the wind, the heat finally starting to abate as the sun sinks below the horizon.

Erend’s still staring at her, and it’s her turn to search his expression for any hints as to why. “What’s wrong?” she asks, wishing she knew how to ask questions gently instead of always sounding like a demand. 

He sounds desperate when he answers, “Aloy, please tell me where you’re hurt,” and her stomach twists in response. She knows why he’s asking, remembers how he found her now, but she doesn’t know how to explain. 

“I’m not hurt,” she says, but can see he still doesn’t believe her. “I promise, I’m fine.” 

“Like hell you’re fine,” and she can see he’s moving from fear to anger, and her own frustration rises up to meet it, always easier to be angry than to admit a weakness.

“I am!” She sways forward in his lap with the shout, the irritation running through her and then draining away much faster than she’s used to– she doesn’t have the energy for it. 

“You’re not,” he barks back, but she can't match his tone again. 

Blinking spots out of her eyes, she mumbles "not what?" Why does everyone keep asking me so many questions? 

Erend breathes a quiet curse, and shifts to better support her weight while also appearing to…scan her with his Focus? She almost smiles at how much more confident he is with the tool these days, but then he scowls at whatever he sees. “Don’t understand any of that,” he mutters under his breath, and worry is furrowing his brows again. 

Aloy frowns. She doesn’t want to worry him– this is why she didn’t want to see anyone. “Hey,” she murmurs. “I’m ok, really.” She pats him awkwardly on the shoulder, a gesture she’s pretty sure is supposed to comfort people. 

Erend takes a deep breath, tries one last time. “You haven’t taken any hits lately?” 

Aloy racks her brain, just wants to give him something, and then, “Oh! I remember!” She holds her side where she knows she must have some nasty bruises under her leggings. “Burrower got me.”

“A Burrower?” He’s incredulous, and Aloy nods sheepishly. “What, are you sick?” As the words leave his mouth, his eyes light up and he sits up a little straighter. “Oh, obviously, I’m an idiot, of course you’re sick, look at you.” Now he’s pulling one glove off– a process that, after he reaches around her back to loosen the buckles, includes him biting the tip of one of the fingers and pulling it off with his teeth, Aloy watching with great interest– and then feeling her forehead with his bare hand. 

Skin on skin has Aloy’s eyes sliding shut again, but she fights back against the wave of drowsiness that threatens to drag her under, bites the inside of her cheek hard. She can’t hide her flinch, but she does successfully wrench her eyes open. 

Unfortunately, the taste of blood makes her stomach roll, and Aloy almost falls face-first into the sand in her haste to turn away from Erend before she throws up. She hasn’t eaten all day so it’s just stomach acid and bright yellow tonic, and Aloy whines as her stomach tries to heave again, and she’s shaking as Erend pulls her back up and away. 

He alternates between cursing under his breath and murmuring apologies in her ear as he pulls her back a few feet from where she was sick and leans her into his side. When she's steady again, he yanks his scarf from around his neck and dowses it in water from his flask. Then, startling Aloy from where she's already zoning out again, he carefully wipes her mouth clean. 

He folds the cloth over and then wipes the sweat from her brow with the cool water as well, and Aloy sighs at the feeling. She goes utterly boneless against him, and Erend has to bring his other hand up, arm around her shoulders, to cup her cheek, holding her head steady so he can continue the soothing motion. Aloy doesn’t think she’s ever been touched so gently in her life, and all the fight goes out of her at once. 

"Missed you," she whispers, blinking up at Erend through heavy lidded eyes, but he doesn't look happy to hear it, a stricken look flashing across his face. 

Between one breath and the next, cradled in his arms, Aloy falls asleep. 

-

She fires a precision arrow at Erik, deep in the Hades Proving Lab, still reeling from the sight of the other clone, and watches it bounce harmlessly off of his strange shimmering forcefield. He laughs and a shudder runs down Aloy's spine, the hair on the back of her neck standing up.

Times flows oddly in dreams. In a blink, she's jumped from mind-racing-for-a-plan to releasing the last shot she needs to break the couplings and bring the entire structure crashing down. 

But instead of collapsing the platform to send her to her watery escape, the huge machine lands on her instead. 

Aloy's trapped, two metal arms crushing her into the steel grate, a relentless searing pressure on her torso, and it's getting heavier, and she can't breathe. Erik's footsteps ring out, growing closer and closer, and he's whistling because murdering her, dooming humanity, it's nothing to him. He fills her field of vision, smirking down at her as Aloy desperately leverages all of her strength against the weight pinning her down, to no effect. He raises his blade, and it's dripping with Varl's blood, and terror floods her veins, fills her eyes with useless tears, and Erend shakes her awake, frantically calling her name. 

Aloy shoves away from him, no thought in her head but to get away. That she's able to do so is likely due more to Erend's surprise than actual strength behind her push. Aloy didn't realize he was carrying her, on his feet again, until she tumbles herself out of his arms. He curses and drops swiftly to one knee, catching her again in one easy movement, before she can even fall very far, the impact of colliding back into his hold knocking the wind out of her.

There's a long moment where they stare at each other, equally startled, and then Aloy furiously scrubs the tears from her face, trying to pretend she's not still actively crying, like Erik's footsteps aren't still echoing in her ears. "I'm fine!" she snaps before Erend can say anything, but the utter disbelief she finds in his face when she looks up silences any further protests. 

She looks away instead, loops one arm around his neck for added stability as he rises steadily back to his feet, unable to meet his eyes. The sky has darkened properly, leaving her to wonder how long Erend’s been carrying her considering he’s not even winded. The lights of Hidden Ember are closer on the horizon, she can make out details in them now, and she guesses they’re about an hour out. 

“How long was I asleep,” she asks, voice carefully neutral, and Erend huffs as she just ignores her violent awakening. 

“Maybe twenty minutes,” he says, letting her get away with it for once. “Hang in there. We’ll see a healer soon as we can-” 

“No!” She cuts him off sharply, head whipping around to stare at him with wide eyes. They’ll make her sleep, she knows they will. A healer would take one look at her and give her some kind of sedative, and all she can think about is when she knocked herself out with ale and couldn’t wake up and she can’t do that again, she won’t. 

Erend, as all of this is racing through her head, stops in his tracks to gape at her. “Fire and spit, Aloy, of course I’m taking you to a healer. Why not?” 

There’s nothing she can say, not without admitting that she’s just scared, that she did this to herself because she’s too pathetic to control her own mind. Aloy shakes her head, shame bringing tears to her eyes, repeating “No,” in a small voice she hasn’t heard from herself since she was very young. 

“Aloy, why not?” She needs to find an answer, but the world is washing out around her again, and she feels like she’s listening to him from underwater. She shakes her head again, this time trying to jog her brain back into gear. 

He repeats the question, and she can only stare at him, imploring. Why not what? Erend looks so worried, but she can’t remember what they’re talking about. 

He closes his eyes with a pained expression, and then starts resolutely forward again. “You can’t expect me to pretend there’s nothing wrong with you.” His voice goes soft, pleading, even as he keeps his eyes on their destination. “Give me something to work with here, Aloy.” 

She doesn’t have anything to say, guilt mixing with the anxiety in her chest. Sniffling, she just offers, “I was coming to see you,” like an apology, like it explains anything, and Erend gathers her higher against him with a sigh, her face tucking naturally into the crook of his neck, grateful for the chance to hide, grateful he's not angry with her. 

He presses his cheek to the top of her head with a quiet, “Ok. It’s ok.” They just breathe together as he walks, and there’s an extra give, a sinking, to his steps as he carries her through sifting sands, but his gait is surprisingly even. The rhythmic sway, and the familiar scent of warm leather and the oil he polishes the metal rings of his armor with, combine to soothe her back into a dreamy haze. 

She can feel the rumble of his voice in his chest like distant thunder, and it’s so calming that it takes her a minute to realize that means he’s talking, and try to pay attention. 

“Sorry, I know it’s late. Yeah, I know, listen, it's Aloy.” He stops– for a reply?– and Aloy tries to work out who he could be talking to. There’s no one else here. Worried she lost track of time enough to miss the arrival of someone new but too embarrassed to ask, she glances around beneath her lashes, relieved not to see anyone. 

“I think she’s sick. Beta called and asked me to find her because they had a weird conversation? And I did, and Aloy was in a fight with thin air, I thought she must be sparring, you know?” Erend pauses, and now that Aloy’s listening for it, she can hear the barest hint of a voice answering him back– oh, obviously, he called somebody. 

Aloy misses most of what he says next, straining to try and identify the voice on the other end of the signal, but she’s on the wrong side of his head for that, and the Focus plays pretty directly into just your own ear. Unless you crank your music up to maximum volume, of course. The thought hooks her, fondly imagining Erend back at the Base, dancing in his seat to Concrete Beach Party, utterly unselfconscious, making her smile any time she caught him at it. She laughs under her breath and hums along with the memory. 

“Zo, can you hear her?” Erend asks over her head. “This is what I’m talking about– if I didn’t know better I might think she was drunk. But then she’ll snap out of it for a few minutes and be totally fine!” Whatever Zo says in response, he doesn’t seem to like it, hmm-ing discontentedly. “No, I already checked for a concussion. I’m telling you, she’s sick!” Aloy feels his jaw flex against the top of her head as he swallows hard. “Give it to me straight, Zo, this serious? What if– I am calm!” 

Aloy tilts her head back so she can peer up at him, not for the first time today wishing she could meet her best friend with something other than bad news or a job to do, just once. “Hey,” she says, tugging on his shoulder strap for attention. “Hey, I’m gonna be fine.” 

Erend meets her gaze and Aloy watches him put a smile on for her. “Course you will be. We’ll make sure of it.” His eyes unfocus, listening to Zo again. “Hey, Zo wants to talk to you. She’s gonna add you to the call, ok?” 

Her Focus lights up, catching the corner of her eye, and she smiles when Zo’s voice sounds in her ear. She hasn’t spoken to her Utaru friend in weeks either, and she’s missed all of her friends. She could use some of Zo’s calm-in-any-storm, to be honest. Aloy relaxes back down against Erend’s shoulder, letting the warm voice wash over her like a fireside story, forgetting the part where Zo is saying words to her that she should be paying attention to. 

It’s not until Zo calls her name like a question that she remembers, drags her eyes open again. “Zo,” Aloy answers groggily, “Sorry, hi. I’m here.” 

“Hello Aloy. How are you?”

She chooses to hear it as a friendly greeting, not a diagnostic. “I’m fine. What about you? How are things at Plainsong?” She can practically hear Zo rolling her eyes in the sigh that follows. 

“All is well here, but I don’t believe you’re ‘fine’. Erend tells me that you fainted at least twice today.” It’s a statement, not a question, but Zo still waits for an answer with a pointed pause.

“I, um. Forgot to eat? Probably didn’t drink enough water either.” She feels Erend’s arms tighten at that, and winces.

“And why not?” Aloy feels about five years old again, Rost asking her to explain, step by step, what she thought was going to happen when she snuck off exploring and reached her whole arm into a fox’s den, wondering what the clever little things keep down there, and reared back shrieking as of course a vixen or kit had bitten her for her invasion. 

“I’ve been feeling a little nauseous,” she allows. 

Erend snorts, “So a lot nauseous then,” and Aloy scowls at him. 

“Just let me talk to her, please,” Zo says quietly, and then continues in a warmer tone. “Thank you for being honest, Aloy. Have you had any other symptoms? Any pain?” She hesitantly describes aching muscles and a persistent headache, trying to pretend she’s not adding another stone to the weight of Erend’s worries with every word, feeling like there’s no longer any point in resisting. Zo might be the only person alive more stubborn than she is. 

There’s an edge of exasperation to Zo’s response as she scolds Aloy for running around in the desert alone instead of at least holing up somewhere safe if she was feeling unwell, and why didn’t she call anyone?– a question Aloy quietly sidesteps. 

At more prodding, Aloy admits that she’s tired, but then rushes to add that she’s having trouble staying focused, that she’s had far too much vigorstem, that’s she’s seeing things– anything to pull Zo’s attention away from the root of the problem, but the older woman is too keen. 

“Oh, honey,” and Aloy can’t help but cringe into Erend’s chest at this tone of voice, conflicting reactions to Zo's soft concern making her want to both fly to Plainsong for a hug and also run as far away as she can before anyone confirms that she actually wants one. “When did you last sleep?” 

Aloy doesn’t say anything.

Zo tries to ask how much she’s slept in the last two days, how long this has been going on for, what’s keeping her awake, but Aloy is done now actually. She squeezes her eyes shut tight and tunes out the conversation, there is simply no way she’s going to say that she’s fallen this far just off of bad dreams. She doesn’t know how long she stays like that, hiding her face, hands shaking from how tightly she’s clinging to Erend’s shoulders. 

As her pulse picks up, she finds herself getting lightheaded, forces her eyes open– worried she’ll pass out again. Erend is speaking, he and Zo both reluctantly accepting that they’ve gotten everything they’re going to get out of her. 

“What can I do to help?”

“A severe lack of sleep can be very dangerous, but the good news is that recovery is simple. She really does just need to rest. Maybe catch up on food and hydrate if she’s been skipping meals, but until we learn why Aloy isn’t sleeping, that’s it.”

Erend lets out a shaky breath. “That’s it?” 

“Yes,” Zo says gently but firmly, in precisely her way. “Don’t let her wriggle out of it either, put her in a bed and stay with her. And call me if you learn anything new.” 

“Will do.” Erend’s steadier with clear direction, and for all that Aloy doesn’t like what she’s hearing, she’s glad that he sounds better. 

The conversation continues, Zo saying that she’s going to return to the Base, to check on Beta and to be closer to their side of the mountains, just in case, but Aloy loses track of it after that, matching her breathing to Erend’s and wondering at the casual display of strength in carrying her in his arms for so long without so much as a hitch in his stride. 

She keeps herself awake by counting stars as they appear, studying the fine leatherwork she’s resting on, periodically pinching her wrist where her arms are wrapped behind Erend’s neck, assuming he’d object to the gesture if he could see it.

Eventually the call must end because Erend is calling her name but…softly. 

Aloy scoffs, “I’m awake,” and ignores his visible disappointment.

“We’ve got a little while to go still,” he says, nodding towards the ruined city stretching towards the sky, growing to fill the horizon as they approach. “You could probably get a nap in?” He smiles winningly as he says it, likes he’s egging her on for another drink and Aloy rolls her eyes, smiling back despite herself. 

“No, I can wait” and he huffs out a fine. 

Erend stops walking, and she feels him roll his shoulders, and then he pushes her away a little so he can look down sheepishly. “If you’re determined to stay awake, you mind if I get you on my back instead? You’re uh, just a bit heavier than the hammer.” 

“Oh, just a bit?” Aloy asks, laughing, and wriggles out of his hold to stand. As soon as she’s upright however, it’s like all of the blood rushes out of her head at once, and she sways, now giggling at the dizzy feeling. Erend frowns, and braces her with one hand, giving his shoulders one more roll before he pulls his hammer off his back with the other. 

He waits for her to find her feet and then turns his back to her and goes down on one knee. Aloy stares down at him, still a little woozy, and rests one hand on his shoulder to keep her balance. She’s never seen the top of his head before, which is an inane, silly thing to fixate on, but his crest of hair is windblown, the tips curling invitingly, and she’s running her fingers through it before she even finishes realizing that she wants to.

She slides her hand from the back of his neck, up and over to the longer strands that trail over his forehead, unbothered by the slight dampness of his sweat when his hair is soft beneath it, a matching prickle of something running through her when she feels him shiver under her touch. Erend shifts his weight, clears his throat, asks without turning to look at her, “Aloy…? You alright back there?” 

“Yeah,” she replies absently, still idly twisting a lock of his hair in her fingers. 

“You gonna climb on?” His voice is rough, the deep gravel in it catching her attention more than his words do.

She blinks, the question taking a long minute to make sense, and then swiftly pulls her hands away as what the hell she is doing instead of letting the man carry her clicks in her brain. “Sorry!” she squeaks, and then leans over to lock her arms around his neck, relieved he can’t see her face burning as he takes his feet, hooking his arms under her knees, hammer still held in one hand. 

“Right,” Erend says slowly, and then fortunately doesn't mention it again. 

It really isn’t much longer to reach Hidden Ember, the sounds of civilization starting to carry over the sand. Erend keeps up a running commentary about what’s changed around the place in the last few weeks, recounts clearing out some encroaching machines, praises the rudimentary showers that have been rigged up beneath the main tower, using the water that endlessly bubbles up from Dunehollow below. Aloy nods along, humming in response here and there as her heart rate slows and her blush fades. 

He tries to sneak a casual “So why aren’t you sleeping?” into the middle of the conversation, more clever than he gives himself credit for. Aloy’s mouth opens to answer automatically, her guard down, and it’s luck alone that cuts her off with a yawn, giving her time to process and choose to ignore the opportunistic question.

As Erend explains that he’s set up a room in one of the neighboring ruins, where several spaces have been cleaned and reinforced for the growing number of residents, she’s once again struggling to fight off the fog of exhaustion. She’s grateful for the relative cover of darkness and that Erend cuts a wide berth around the busier paths, doesn’t want to explain to anyone why she’s being carried in like a child. He understands her, as always, not needing to be asked. 

He takes her straight to what she assumes is his room, though truth be told she doesn’t register a single detail as he sits on the edge of the bed to set her down softly. Reluctantly pulling away from his warmth, she leans back on one hand and watches through bleary, heavy-lidded eyes as he carefully leans his hammer against the wall, closes and locks the door. 

Erend doesn’t bother with any candles, letting the city’s lights dimly illuminate the space, and Aloy relaxes back into the bed, can’t help but sigh as the last of the day’s tension drains out of her, sinking into sheets that carry that same familiar scent, feeling surrounded by it. 

She’s safe with Erend between her and the door, with his hands gently helping her out of her boots, undoing the straps on her arms, and Aloy’s asleep before he pulls off the first bracer.

Chapter Text

Even someone like Aloy, chasing an impossible goal from childhood with single-minded determination, raised by a serious man who set rigorous daily training schedules, can remember mornings when she had to be all but dragged out of bed. 

Especially in the height of winter when snow storms blanketed the Embrace, whiting out any sound but the howling winds, and driving all living things– the Nora included– to hunker down in their warmest dens. Aloy can remember the peaceful hush of mornings in their cabin, the last of the night’s embers still glowing in the hearth, floating just on the edge of waking as Rost prepared breakfast below her lofted bed. She'd pull the furs over her head and pretend not to hear the first few times he called her name, groan and complain when he'd finally threaten to come pull her out of bed himself if she didn't get a move on, both of them acting angrier than they were, suppressing smiles, when she'd eventually stomp down the ladder.  

She feels just like that now, the memory of those lazy mornings coming to mind as awareness creeps in, slow and muted. Aloy grumbles as she's pulled out of sleep she desperately needs , but beyond that she's peaceful, at ease, like she could roll over and keep right on sleeping without a care in the world. 

Someone is holding her hand. 

This in itself is a rare enough occurrence that she's not surprised it woke her. But then she feels a damp cloth being run between her fingers, across her palm, and she cracks one eye open to see Erend sitting in a chair by the bed– when did she make it to a bed? – carefully and quietly cleaning the grit from her hands with an absent little smile on his face. 

He's still wearing his armor, though he's removed his gloves, and it's still dark in the room. Based on how bleary she feels–and the fact that she's not dreamt anything– Aloy assumes she hasn’t been out for long at all. She has no idea where her own armor is, finds herself resting comfortably in only the thin knee-length shorts and cropped silk shirt she wears underneath in the desert, in an effort to stay cool. 

The feeling of Erend's bare hand cupping hers is overwhelming enough– his hands dwarf hers, he could easily close both of hers in one of his with room to spare– but the addition of the cool cloth pulling gently across her skin sends goosebumps shivering up her arm and Aloy whines a wordless complaint as she shifts in the bed, turning to face him and weakly tugging at his grasp, eyes already threatening to fall closed again. 

Erend chuckles, and she opens her eyes to turn a sleepy glare on him for laughing at her, but instantly relaxes at the look on his face. His smile shouldn't affect her so easily, small and gentle as it is, but he's looking at her with eyes softer than the downy rabbit fur Rost used to line her mittens with, and she's struck with a warm wave of contentment. She stops trying to pull her hand away, turning her hand to hold his instead, tangling their fingers together with the vague idea that she just wants him to keep looking at her like that. 

He glances down at their joined hands, surprised, but after a pause, brushes his thumb across her knuckles, face impossibly softening further. 

"Sorry, just noticed you had sand trapped under your gloves. Thought it might bother you." He shrugs one shoulder a little sheepishly, like she's going to be upset with him for wanting her to be comfortable. Aloy tries to reply, tell him it's fine, she could sleep through a Longleg's cry right now, forget about a little sand, but her brain can't quite connect to her mouth, and all that comes out is an incoherent mumble. 

His smile widens, now a fond grin that warms her all the way down to her toes, and she's already drifting off again as he quietly tells her to "Go back to sleep, Aloy." 

-

Aloy is walking through Tilda's vault, the hallway between the small basement room she woke up in and the doors she knows will open to the gallery stretching out too far into the distance, a trip of mere seconds dragging out into minutes. 

Even after she's through, listening to the Zenith woman's disembodied voice reverently describe painting after painting, the room seems to go on and on. Tilda pays no mind as Aloy begins to run, looking for the exit, heart racing as dread builds, sweat pooling between her shoulder blades, eyes frantically searching every wall and dark corner. 

Realization strikes her suddenly, sending her to her knees, this isn't the bunker below Tilda's home at all, this must be the spaceship. She lost , she was taken, she's trapped here, forever, knowing her friends, her planet will die without her, she can't breathe–

Even as she jerks awake, knows it was just a dream, Aloy can't catch her breath. She shoves herself upright, hunching forward protectively, her hands twisting in the front of her shirt for something to hold onto, panting, choking back the scream that tries to tear out of her chest. Waking up like this is familiar– terrible– territory and Aloy squeezes her eyes shut, prepares to push down her reaction and get back on the road. 

But then Erend is there , calling her name, the bed dipping with his weight as he sits, one hand lightly cupping her arm, reminding her where she is and how she got there without restraining her. “ Hey , hey, you’re ok,” he says, gentle but firm, and her first instinct is to cringe, curl up tighter and hide her face, she doesn’t want anyone to see her like this . Behind that impulse lurks another, stronger, worse one– the urge to fall forward into his arms, cling to his shirt, seek safety in another person instead of standing alone. 

Before she can make a decision, frozen in place with the conflict and still gasping for air, Erend rests his other hand on her back, the warmth of it seeping through the silk, and starts drawing large soothing circles, hand just brushing bare skin at the bottom of each pass. A startled breath stutters out of her as she locks eyes with him, and she finds the next inhale comes easier, and the one after that. 

Erend remains at her side, repeating reassurances that she’s safe, that he’s with her, that it was just a dream, until she gets her breathing under control. As the panic drains out of her, the cloud of exhaustion she's grown so accustomed to rolls back in. How much does she need to sleep to get back on even ground? However much it is, she clearly hasn't done it yet, has to blink hard to stop the shadows around the edges of the room from twisting and dancing, struggling to focus. 

Erend's hand stills on her back, then pulls away, hovering uncertainly in the air, like it might be unwelcome now that she’s calm. 

Aloy doesn’t know either, doesn’t know if she wants to lean back into it or run from the room. With neither of them making a call either way, they end up just staring at each other in the dark for a long, heavy moment, until Erend clears his throat and scoots back a little on the bed. 

He removed his armor at some point, looks a little rumpled in just a plain white shirt and a clean pair of his baggy pants. His face is creased with concern again and Aloy avoids his gaze, finds herself staring at his bare feet– she’s never seen him so casual before, and it makes no sense at all that he should look bigger without all of that leather and steel, but he does– and she idly wonders where he’s sleeping, just so she can think about something other than closing the distance between them. 

“So,” Erend starts, never one to leave a silence hanging for long. “Nightmares, huh?” He asks casually enough, but there’s real concern in his voice and Aloy curls her shoulders tighter, says nothing, still dodging eye contact. “It’s nothing to be embarrassed about,” he offers. “Forge knows I get them too. We probably all do, the stuff we’ve seen.” 

When Aloy continues to stare sullenly at the floor, fingers fiddling anxiously in her lap, Erend sighs, a sound that makes her wince. She risks a quick glance at his face and he offers her a different smile, one that looks a little sorry. She’s being unreasonable, she knows that she is. She probably woke him up and he still came and comforted her immediately, but here she is, searching for any trace of judgment in his voice, only thinking about how she’s supposed to be better than this, still fighting to suppress a tremor at the thought of that cold, lifeless, endless vault. 

Erend stands from the bed with a quiet, “Alright, get some more sleep, ok?” and he’s turning away, and a sudden stab of fear shoots through her, her next breath punching out of her in another gasp. Aloy lurches forward, rocking up onto her knees and grabbing his arm, hands clinging to his sleeve. He turns back immediately, bringing his other arm up to help support her so she doesn’t tip over, brows furrowed as he searches her face for an explanation. 

Aloy’s thoughts are blank with panic and when she opens her mouth all that falls out is a choked, “Don’t go .” As soon as the plea escapes her, she’s squeezing her eyes shut, unable to bear it if this is what finally flips his care to pity, but equally unable to release him, terrified that she’ll wake again but this time be alone, left to fight back her nightmares without his steady presence at her side. 

Erend pulls his arm away and her heart falls into her stomach. She lowers her head and starts frantically planning an exit strategy, but before she can get further than ‘wait for him to leave’, he’s taking her hands instead. 

“Aloy, look at me.” 

She has to take a deep breath before she can, but she manages it. There’s no trace of a smile on his face anymore, but she doesn’t find pity there either– Erend looks determined , a stubborn set to his jaw as he sits down again. It’s a bewildering enough reaction that Aloy forgets to feel ashamed, unconsciously braces herself for a fight. 

“Aloy, why in forgefire would I go anywhere?” 

Her eyes narrow at the unexpected question, embarrassment tipping over into frustration, and she jerks her hands away, clenches them into fists at her sides. “Why would you want to stay ,” Aloy snaps. “They’re just stupid dreams, this isn’t-” 

He cuts her off with a familiar refrain, his voice hard in the face of her glare. “You don’t have to do everything alone.” 

“This isn’t a mission , Erend.” Aloy grasps for the words to explain why the thought of anyone– let alone someone who holds her in as high regard as Erend freely makes it clear he does– anyone wanting to waste their time holding her hand in the middle of the night just because she can’t sleep is so ludicrous to her. “This isn’t for the world. It’s just me .” She huffs, fists uncurling as the fight runs out of her, a weariness fueled by the rapid ups and downs of the last few minutes overtaking her. 

Her voice is low and wavering as she finally says, “You have more important things to do than babysit me.” 

She’s shocked to hear Erend snort , and looks up to find him smiling at her again, shaking his head incredulously as he mutters, “You really have no idea,” under his breath. 

She blinks at him expectantly, waiting for an explanation, because no, she doesn’t, what is he talking about? But he breezes past the vague statement and instead says, “It’s not babysitting, for one thing. You needed help, I’m helping you. That’s the simplest thing in the world.” 

He barrels on before Aloy can interrupt, prepared to argue for all that she can’t think of an actual argument. “And more important things to do? Ha , what’s more important? Aloy, I didn’t come out west to save the world .” The joking inflection he puts on it makes her bristle, this isn’t a joke , but then he continues, “I mean, I did a little bit, because I also live here and I’d like to keep doing that,” and she has to roll her eyes at that, mollified. 

“That’s not why I’m here with you right now though, you have to know that.” Even Aloy can’t maintain her skepticism when Erend speaks this earnestly, feels her hastily constructed walls start to crumble. “You don’t have to do any of this alone. You don’t want me here, tell me to get out and I’ll go. But it sounds like you want me to stay. And I guess that’s my point… I’m gonna be wherever you need me to be.” He takes her hands again, squeezes them gently. “Just say the word, ok?” 

Aloy’s speechless, but this time it’s because she’s breathing through a swirl of emotion– her face flushing as the sheer fondness she feels for him flutters in her chest, competing with a rush of gratitude that Erend has seen the worst of her over and over and still supports her so steadfastly, and an ache of longing that she's afraid to name. He’s waiting for a response and he deserves one, but even so, he is who he is, so he tosses another joke into the lull: "Besides, Zo told me to stay with you and I'm terrified of that woman." 

Aloy laughs in spite of herself, the quiet humor easily breaking through the way her emotional overwhelm had trapped her voice and Erend absolutely beams . Feeling lighter, she squeezes his hands back and manages to ask for what she wants, like maybe it's as simple as Erend says it is. “Stay," she says, and if she immediately has to look away from him afterwards, he's kind enough not to mention it. 

This time when Erend stands from the bed, Aloy remains calm, trusting that he’ll return. When he does, bringing her a cup of water from a side table, she squirms a little with embarrassment as she takes it, realizing that was likely his intention all along. Still the cool drink is soothing, and she returns the cup and lays back down with a small smile pulling at her lips. 

Erend returns to his seat by the bed, and Aloy makes an aborted motion to take his hand again, losing confidence at the last second and trying disguise the movement as just adjusting the covers. Noticing, Erend pulls the lightweight blanket up higher, and Aloy can only stare at him, cheeks burning hotter and feeling slightly mystified as he essentially tucks her in. She wants to call him on it, joke that surely she’s too old for this treatment, but he looks so pleased with himself that she lets it go. 

She falls asleep like that, watching him keep watch over her and hiding her matching soft smile in the pillow.

-

It would be nice to think that she sleeps peacefully from there on out, problem solved, but unfortunately that’s not how it goes. 

-

Aloy wakes up crying. 

Her fingers tighten reflexively around the hand in hers, dimly registering that Erend must have taken it again at some point in her sleep, even as she brings her other hand up to cover her mouth, desperate to muffle the noise, to not wake Erend up again . In the faint light and through her tears, she can just make out that he’s slumped over on the bed in his chair, fast asleep, and the man has to be tired– he carried her through the desert for who knows how long and then sat up late to keep an eye on her. She shouldn’t wake him up for this. 

He’s here and his hand is in hers and that’s plenty, that will be enough, and Aloy tells herself that over and over as she curls her body around their joined hands and presses her face into the blanket to stifle her sobs, tries and fails to forget the wheezing croak of Erend’s voice in her dream as he reassured her up to his dying breath that everything was going to be ok. 

It’s a fruitless effort– both at blocking out the memory and at going unnoticed. Erend’s hand flexes, and she hears him shift and groan quietly as he’s pulled awake, but she doesn’t lift her head to look. Aloy knows what’s happening– she isn’t lost or confused like she has been in recent days– but at the same time, she can’t push past the desperate need to make herself quiet and still, for all that she’s not accomplishing it. 

After a brief pause, Erend shoots to his feet, chair legs scraping across the floor and making her flinch, and then he’s leaning over the bed, “Aloy, brightspark, c’mere”, voice rough with sleep and not a little bit of panic. He grabs her shoulder and tries to free his other hand as well, but Aloy won’t– can’t– let go of it. He gives up quickly, a hastily muttered “no, that’s ok, that’s good” as he changes tactics and pulls her up by their joined hands instead, other arm sliding around her shoulders. 

“Sorry,” Aloy gasps out, and she means it both for the phantom image of this man that she vividly ‘remembers’ dying in her arms in the fields outside of the Far Zenith Base, and for Erend now, alive and well and whose night’s rest she’s so thoroughly disrupted over and over again. “Sorry,” she says again, and then can’t stop saying it, sobbing out apologies as Erend hushes her, pulls her into his arms, and she buries her face in the crook of his neck. 

He lifts her up onto her knees as if she weighs nothing at all, and if she were more coherent she might wonder why, but then he’s rearranging them both, climbing into the bed himself and pulling her into his lap. She still hasn’t released his hand, clutching it to her chest between them, so Erend bends one of his legs to help support her back so he can wrap his other arm around her properly. 

Even surrounded by him, feeling his chest move with every breath, held securely and with Erend’s voice rumbling through both their bodies and into her ear, it takes Aloy a long time to calm. Her apologies continue through her tears despite Erend’s repeated assurances that she has nothing to apologize for, that she should always wake him up if she needs him, that everything is ok. It’s only when he guides the hand he’s still holding to fist in his shirt instead– freeing himself up to gently cup the back of her head, thumb rubbing slow circles just above her ear– and she can feel his heartbeat beneath her palm that Aloy is able to close her mouth around another “I’m sorry” and actually listen to the man who has been speaking to her non-stop since he first picked her up. 

“I’ve got you,” he’s saying, “Whatever it was, it’s- it’s over now, yeah? You’re here with me. Just be here , Aloy, you’re ok. It’s gonna be ok.” Erend repeats himself often as he murmurs softly in the dark, rocking them slightly and stroking her hair. Aloy’s sobs slowly relent, softening into quiet, weaker sniffling and eventually drying up altogether. She just listens, breathing shakily, trembling more from how her crying wore her out than from the fading adrenaline.

She’s not sure if Erend notices that she’s finally calmed as he continues his soothing motions, reminding her again and again, both aloud and through his physical presence, that she isn’t alone. Easily, silently, Aloy falls asleep sheltered in his embrace. 

-

The next time Aloy snaps awake, it’s to find herself repositioned again with no memory of moving. Erend has laid them both down, their legs tangled together beneath the blankets. She’s still sprawled in the now-loose circle of his arms, but she’s shifted further down his chest, head resting over his heart so she can hear its steady rhythm clearly. Aloy has never lain with another person like this, and the head-to-toe physical contact, the sheer warmth of it, instantly knocks her out of her own head.

Any lingering dread from her most recent nightmare just can’t compete. 

Instead, before she can really enjoy the arrangement, a new kind of anxiety creeps in. How do people sleep like this? She’s afraid to move, worried even the slightest twitch will wake her bedfellow. Compounding her nerves is the realization that the damp patch she cried into the collar of his shirt earlier this evening was at some point joined by a new wet spot, cold against her cheek and mortifying evidence that she’s been crying in her sleep. 

After a long tense moment with all of her muscles locked up and unable to ignore the fabric sticking to her face, Aloy gives up. However much she wants to, she doesn’t know how to relax like this. It isn’t fair– if this isn’t enough to keep the nightmares at bay, what will be? 

Carefully pushing herself up, one limb at a time, Aloy tries to silently detangle herself and slip away. She can feel herself getting irritated, drifting even further from sleep with resentment that she’s woken up at all. How many times is this now? She’s trying to listen to Zo, listen to her body, and get the rest she needs, but what is the point if she’s still going to wake up every damn hour?

She forgets herself in her frustration and moves too quickly, jostling one of Erend’s legs as she tries to pull away. Aloy freezes, but it’s too late, and Erend wakes with a grunt. Before he’s even finished opening his eyes, he’s slurring “What’s wrong?” in a sleep-rough voice, squinting at her in the dark. 

“Nothing,” Aloy snaps, wishing she was any good at moderating her tone, but she barely manages it running at full capacity on a good day– moderation is definitely out of her reach now. 

She’s not the only one who’s woken up short-tempered and Erend looks taken aback for a moment before he frowns. Groggy and scoffing, he says “Well, ‘scuse me for asking,” even as he opens his arms so she can go if she wants. 

“ You’re fine,” Aloy hisses through clenched teeth, sitting back on her heels beside him. The bitterness is bubbling up inside her, spilling over before she can stop it. “ I’m the problem here. Since I’m obviously not going to get my shit together tonight, I should get out of your hair.” 

Erend blinks at her for a moment and then actually rolls his eyes , scrubbing one hand through his hair, exasperated. “Fire and spit, Aloy. Didn’t we just have this conversation?” She can feel her shoulders rising, tensing for a fight, but he swiftly knocks her feet out from under with a direct hit: “I want to be here.” He sounds so annoyed about needing to say it that it’s hard for Aloy to doubt him. “I want to help. Wake me up , I don’t mind.” 

Aloy slumps, hunching in on herself instead. She believes him– he’s a good friend, her best friend, and he’s always been selfless– but she still thinks she’d be better off leaving, even without anger fueling her logic. Erend looks tired, hair mussed and smudges under his eyes that will become proper shadows in the morning. He can barely keep his eyes open to have this stupid conversation with her. She should go. 

“Sorry,” she whispers, wincing as she’s struck with the memory of babbling apologies at him earlier in the night, and hurries on. “You are helping. It’s…really nice, actually, to have you here. But I’m going to keep you awake…” Erend just stares at her, like he’s waiting for her to make a point, and Aloy sighs. “I’m…not getting any better tonight. I should go to another room.” At his continued blank look, she tries, “Or I could sleep on the floor?”

Erend downright scowls at her, mustache bristling. “Absolutely not.” 

Aloy searches for a reason he’ll accept, not really sure why she’s still arguing but unable to move past the guilty feeling that she’s taking too much, that he’ll resent her in the morning. She gestures awkwardly towards the evidence of her multiple crying jags. “Look, I’m ruining your shirt and it’ll probably happen again. That can’t be comfortable, right? I’ll go somewhere else.” 

One eyebrow raised, Erend glances down at his shirt, taking in the wet spots with bleary eyes for a moment. With a shrug, he sits up just enough to reach behind his head and pull it off. Aloy watches, mouth hanging open, as the muscles in his stomach and arms flex and relax as he balls up the shirt and tosses it across the room. “There, nothing to worry about now.” 

Still obviously only half-awake and seemingly fed up with her excuses, Erend unceremoniously grabs her wrist, pulls her back down to lay on his naked chest, wraps one arm around her waist and goes right back to sleep. 

For the first time, Aloy understands how machines must feel when they freeze in place, locked still, as she overrides them. 

Her brain is static, unable to string two words together, even just to herself. She’s always known Erend was a large man– this isn’t new information– but something about laying skin-to-skin with the solid muscle and forgefire warmth of his body has her thoughts circling around and around on the size of him. Turning her face into his neck, her hand slides across his chest without any input from her, trailing through the thick patch of soft hair there before coming to rest on his shoulder, a much safer location for her sanity. 

Only thinking about the way her whole body rises and falls with the steady rhythm of Erend’s breathing and the secure, grounding weight of his arm across her waist, Aloy slips back into sleep without even trying.

-

This is not the last time Aloy wakes up in the night, and in early hours of the morning, but every time she does, Erend is there.

Chapter Text

Aloy can’t remember the last time she woke up gently, woke up feeling rested. Lethargy still clings to her limbs and weighs them down, but her head is clear. Not just for a minute or two at a time, but properly actually clear. There is sunlight streaming into the room, bright even through her closed eyes, and she relishes the warmth on her face. 

It quickly becomes apparent that the sunlight is not the only reason she’s warm. Aloy carefully peaks out through her lashes to confirm what her body is already telling her– she may no longer be laying on top of Erend, but their current position somehow feels even more intimate. They’re facing each other on their sides, legs tangled together, his arm still draped loosely over her waist. She’s somehow come to rest with her head pillowed on his other arm, her own hands tucked up under her chin. She can feel his breath faintly brushing her forehead on each exhale.

They must have kicked the blankets off sometime in the night, a blessing because otherwise it would be much too hot to press skin-to-skin like this in the middle of the Still Sands. Her lips pull into a smile involuntarily, something about the weight of his legs trapping hers, being held in the loose circle of his arms, making her feel bonelessly relaxed, compared to how the surprise had jarred her last night– or was it this morning?

Blinking her eyes open properly, Aloy feels the pleasant warmth in her cheeks give over to burning. She’s face-to-chest(hair) with a still-shirtless Erend, which apparently was not a dream, and he is…a lot to take in. 

She flinches back, surprised, and then freezes because the movement stirs Erend just enough to have him grumbling in his sleep. He shifts, rolling even closer to her, and runs his hand up her back as he does. Aloy shivers, suppresses a gasp– his hand feels massive against her skin as it slides under the hem of her cropped shirt, pressed to her bare back. She feels breathless, but not in the panicked way of fear. This breathlessness reminds her of watching Erend kick in doors back in Meridian, how he busted through a rock wall with a single swing of his hammer. 

Aloy looks him over with wide eyes, shameless, taking advantage of this rare opportunity to observe him without being observed in return. A dark patch of hair spans his barrel-chest, and it’s embarrassing to realize she knows that it’s soft, that she has a clear memory of how it feels under her fingers. That’s a consuming enough thought on its own, but it’s swiftly overwhelmed. Now that they’re both illuminated by the light of day, Aloy is startled to find that Erend is covered in tattoos. Thick black geometric shapes define the solid muscle of his arms and shoulders, cut down his chest in a way she wants to trace, hands twitching to do so before she catches herself. 

She swallows, mouth dry, and tries to distract herself with other curiosities, such as the opportunity to carefully tilt her head back and observe Erend’s face as he sleeps. That might have been a mistake actually. Avoiding looking at his mouth, relaxed in sleep and she has no reason to feel drawn to stare, her eyes trace the carefully maintained line of his beard, and then stray to the stubble coming in above it, wonders how it would feel under her fingertips. Aloy’s surprised to note that Erend has a few scattered freckles, finds herself smiling again. 

She wants to wake up like this every day. 

Aloy winces, dismisses the thought quickly. She knows better. Instead, she resolves to savor the moment while she has it– watching the sunlight cast a golden glow on his skin, smiling over the clear tan line dividing his neck, tucking away the knowledge that Erend snores lightly off and on but she ridiculously finds it endearing. 

She’s not sure how much time passes like this, aimlessly relaxing in bed in a way she hasn’t dared in years, before Erend finally stirs for good this time, and blinks awake. 

There’s a moment where they both just stare at each other, Aloy flustered, not sure what happens next in this kind of situation, Erend gazing back at her like he’s never seen her before. As his eyes sharpen, awareness seeping in properly at the edges of his soft expression, Erend goes from wonderous to flushing a deep red and scrambling out of bed so quickly that Aloy’s surprised he isn’t too lightheaded to pull it off. 

Propped up on one elbow, Aloy watches, bemused, as Erend looks down at himself, seemingly noticing his own state of undress for the first time, and her eyebrows slowly climb her forehead as his blush spreads down his neck, the skin of his bare chest taking on a pink tinge that she tracks with interest. “S-sorry,” he stammers, starts shoving his feet into his boots even as he continues, “I don’t know why I- that is- if you-” Still shirtless, he practically falls through the door, calling over his shoulder, “I’ll grab us some food!” and flees. 

After the initial shock of his rapid departure wears off, Aloy can only laugh. She slumps back onto the bed, chuckling and running one hand over her face like she can wipe her matching flush away, feeling so light suddenly that she’s surprised she doesn’t float away. 

She’s not completely oblivious– she knows there’s something unsaid hanging between them. But they both seem to have made the decision not to speak on it, and Aloy doesn’t think she can be the person to break the stalemate. Nothing in her upbringing prepared her to realize– wading slowly into the awareness one day Erend stuck around by her side at a time– that she wants something more from him, more with him. He’s not very subtle about wanting something too, but she gets stuck on what she’s supposed to do about it. 

What if Erend likes her better as an idea? A lot of people seem to feel that way about Aloy these days, are taken aback when they spend actual time with her, find her abrasive in close quarters. Or what if she and Erend try to be…whatever it is they could be, and it doesn’t go well? Surely it’s better to keep him as a friend than to ruin everything because she doesn’t know what she’s doing. Aloy’s never had that kind of partner before…she can live without if she has to, if that means she keeps him in her life long-term. 

She’s well-versed in denying herself immediate comforts to secure a future win. 

Even so, she thinks with a lingering smile, it’s a little fun sometimes to see him get flustered. She remembers the charming, outspoken outlander back in Mother’s Heart, can now recognize how blatantly he’d flirted with her– seeing that same man reduced to blushing and stuttering because of her? It’s…really fun. 

Aloy sits up and takes in the room properly for the first time. It’s a simple space: four walls, one exterior window with a curtain pinned to the side in a familiar– if already sun-faded– Vanguard orange, a sturdy wooden door that the settlement must have imported lumber for. There are remnants of the Old World accommodations still visible if you know to look for them, but Aloy is more interested in what marks Erend has left on the place. 

Eagerly looking around, curiosity sparking, she finds…nothing much? The curtain of course, and his armor piled sort-of-neatly by the door. There’s a small table in one corner made of the sort of smooth, polished, single-piece metal that means it’s been salvaged from a ruin rather than made, and a single chair. Her own kit is on the table, belts and pouches lined up and Winterweave armor stacked with much more care than he showed his own things, her bag on the floor leaned against a table leg. There’s a trunk against the wall, under the window, with a small keg to the side of it, but that’s everything. Considering the way his belongings had overwhelmed his bunk in the Base– and spread into other rooms even– it seems strange that Erend doesn’t have much here, even after a month. 

Shoving aside a vague disappointment that there’s nothing here to nose through, Aloy stands from the bed, spends a few minutes stretching, relishing in the pull and release of achy muscles, glad Erend’s not around to hear the groan she lets out as she bends forward to press her palms to the worn rug covering the metal floor. 

Straightening up, she’s surprised by how tired she still feels, already hearing the warm bed calling to her to come take a little nap. Her neck and shoulders are stiff, and weariness still hangs over her like a cloak, albeit one she wears more comfortably. If she’s being honest with herself though, Aloy can’t pin down if she’s disappointed or relieved not to be ready to get right back on the road. 

Approaching the table to check on her own things leads Aloy to Erend’s shaving kit, unnoticed behind the pile of her stuff, small mirror propped up against the wall as the man apparently couldn’t be bothered to hang it. 

Inspecting her reflection is not a particularly pleasant start to the day. She certainly feels grimy, and looking confirms it, and Aloy winces to think that Erend cuddled up to her in this state. Her hair is…frightful. She spends a fruitless minute considering the frizzy twists in the front, then picking at a smaller braid that’s starting to mat at the end, then gives up with a huff. There’s no point without washing it properly. 

Digging through her bag, Aloy pulls out a headband and puts it on instead, to at least pull back the flyaways. In the process, she also considers– and dismisses– the clothing she has with her. Everything’s been worn but not washed, some of it cycled through and worn multiple times with simple rinsing in streams as Aloy began to accept more and more ‘good enough’s on the road while avoiding people. Even by her admittedly lax standards, she’s a mess. 

As if on cue, Erend’s voice comes over her Focus. “Hey Aloy, I’m a bit late for breakfast. Sorry, but I’m gonna need to throw something together real quick.” Before she can reply that it’s fine and she doesn’t mind waiting– though her stomach grumbles to the contrary– he’s continuing, “I thought you might want to clean up a little in the meantime?” 

“That would be really great actually,” Aloy says, already mentally planning how she’ll sneak down to the new showers Erend pointed out last night without being seen. 

“You got it! If you turn right out of my room and go to the end of the hall, there’s a washroom. It’s got nothing on those shower stall things at the Base, but there’s towels and a water pump. Soap. And uh. Oh.” 

He cuts off abruptly. 

“Oh?”

“Just realized. You, uh. That is.” Aloy now has a pretty good idea of just how red in the face he must be if the normally talkative man is struggling this much to finish a sentence, and picturing it makes her smile. “Do you…have any clean clothes?” 

“Oh,” she chuckles, is that all? Putting the same clothes back on after a wash is a little disappointing, sure, but it’s nothing she hasn’t done before. She’s already pulling her other under-armor items out of her bag to wash, so she can change into something clean and dry later at least. “No, I don’t, but that’s ok.”

The next pause drags out long enough that she’d think Erend had ended the call if she couldn’t still see the little indicator with his name on it blinking in the corner of her Focus display. Aloy’s just about to give up waiting and head out when his voice comes through again, so rushed it sounds like one long jumble of a word: “Youcouldwearmine.” 

“What was that?” 

“You could…borrow some clothes. If you wanted.” The idea is immediately arresting. Yes, she does want. “There’s stuff in the trunk, grab whatever you want, see you soon!” He ends the call abruptly, audibly flustered, but Aloy’s already across the room and throwing open the trunk– with permission even!– and barely notices. 

She doesn’t even bother looking at any of the pants, which would be comically large on her and she’s certain she wouldn’t be able to walk in them. Any one of Erend’s shirts will easily be long enough on her to cover everything important anyway. She deliberates for a long moment over the stack of neatly folded tops before giving in to the rush of fondness and grabbing the Vanguard stripes. As soon as Aloy pulls the top out, she’s hit with a wave of leather, woodsmoke, freshly-polished steel. It takes all of her willpower not to bury her face in the linen and just breathe.

Firmly shoving down the urge, she lets the lid of the trunk fall shut with a dull thunk, turns on her heel to leave just to put herself in motion, like she can walk away and leave her own embarrassing sentiment behind. 

If later– freshly scrubbed, hair damp and loose down her back, and after pulling the soft shirt over her head and unable to ignore how the fabric and the familiar scent now vividly remind her that she spent most of the night sleeping in someone’s arms– if later, she lets the sleeves fall down to cover her hands entirely, presses her hands to her face and breathes in, well. No one will ever know. 

-

Aloy beats Erend back to the room by a handful of minutes. She’s still in the middle of carefully laying her damp clothes across the back, arms, and seat of the single chair– to hopefully dry quickly next to the window– when there’s a single solid knock at the door. She taps her Focus automatically, seeing the familiar purple silhouette labeled Erend and relaxing, before considering that a normal person would have just asked who’s there. Too late because he’s calling out, “Just me! Little help?” anyway, and she hurries to open the door. 

As it swings open, Erend seems to stumble, and Aloy has to dart forward and help steady the tray of food he nearly drops. 

Aloy honestly hadn’t put any thought into her appearance. As predicted, Erend’s shirt easily falls to mid-thigh and is wonderfully comfortable, and that’s all Aloy initially registered about it. Based on its owner’s reaction to seeing her in it, she must have missed something. She goes to shoot Erend a confused look for the near-disaster and catches him staring, mouth slightly open and eyes slowly dragging up her bare legs, catching on where the collar is slipping off one shoulder, where she apparently could have laced the neckline a little higher. 

Watching Erend seemingly lose every thought in his head just because her hair is flipped to one side and falling over her shoulder reminds her of her earlier thought about having fun. Heroically, she resists the sudden urge to cock her hip, suppresses a smirk– it might be fun, but she has no plan for what happens next and dreads the thought of misreading the situation. Instead she waits patiently for Erend to meet her eyes– ok, maybe she’s smirking a little bit– and takes her hands off the tray when he clears his throat and awkwardly mumbles something about tripping over his own feet. 

Because Aloy can sometimes manage to be a good friend, she very generously says nothing, and simply moves out of the way so he can bring the food in. She’s distracted immediately by the smell, something savory and hopefully a little greasy calling to her from those plates, and she eagerly follows on his heels to the table. 

As Erend sets the tray down and makes a face to himself while eyeing his only chair, now covered in laundry, it’s Aloy’s turn to stare. He’s found a shirt to wear, a rich mustard yellow that really sets off his eyes, but she thinks to herself that it can’t possibly be his own as she watches his back, the poor fabric straining to contain his broad shoulders and thick biceps. 

Shaking her head to clear the thought away, she sidles up beside him as casually as she can and steals a chunk of roasted potato from the nearest plate, popping it into her mouth when he’s not looking, but then immediately giving herself away when she can’t help but moan a little at the burst of flavor. Aloy hasn’t eaten anything she didn’t overcook herself in weeks, and she instantly tunes out of Erend’s concerns about how they both can sit at the table to reach for another. She’ll happily stand right here to eat the whole spread. 

Erend, however pleased he looks– beaming ear-to-ear actually– that she likes his food, turns out to have opinions about sitting down for a proper meal, while Aloy has opinions about wanting to eat right the hell now. Compromising, they end up both sitting on the woven mat, plates spread between them. 

He apologizes repeatedly for the plain accommodations, a sentiment Aloy doesn’t understand. She looks around again, as if the flaw will become more apparent, but she still sees four sturdy walls and a door, a strong roof, a clean bed. “This is easily in the top three places I’ve ever stayed,” she says around a mouthful of eggs and boar bacon, and then rolls her eyes when she sees concern flash across Erend’s face. 

Shifting focus before he can start chiding her for the time she camped out in the rain fifteen minutes from a Tenakth settlement– it was one time and she was just waiting out the storm until it was safe to ride again– Aloy continues wryly, “I mean, it’s definitely a lot cleaner than your bunk. I don’t even count one boot in the floor.” 

Erend runs one hand through his hair and rubs at the back of his head sheepishly. “Oh, you uh, saw all that?” Aloy just smirks at him and he huffs a laugh. “I don’t know why I’m surprised. You ever seen a door you didn’t immediately have to open?” 

“Nope,” Aloy replies, popping the ‘p’ playfully, marveling a little at how cheerful she feels over this meal compared to forcing down rations on the road through yesterday’s haze. She and Erend just smile at each other, dragging out the shared joke longer than it really deserves, before Erend’s eyes turn a shade too soft, too fond, and Aloy has to clear her throat and look away, determinedly refocusing on her food. 

She loses the fight against her fatigue after their late breakfast– apparently needing recovery time from the very strenuous activities of washing and eating– and finds herself fading rapidly right there on the floor. If not for Erend, she might have simply laid down and gone to sleep, but he gently hoists her to her feet and bullies her back into the bed. 

When she wakes up after what must be only an hour or so– after a dreamless(!) sleep, he’s cleaned up from their meal and, tragically, donned some of his armor again, his leather cuirass on over one of his own shirts, gloves concealing his hands. Rubbing the sleep from her eyes, catching his attention from where he was swiping through something in his Focus while leaning against the wall, she asks disbelievingly, “How do you stand all of those layers in this heat?” 

Erend shrugs. “Eh, you get used to it. I’d rather be prepared, just in case.” 

Aloy shakes her head, having chosen the complete opposite for the day and still luxuriating in lounging around in borrowed clothes. Still, if Erend was always fully-armored and ready to go in the Base, where they were protected behind thick steel doors and Gaia’s lockdown capabilities, she can’t see how he’d feel secure wearing any less than he already is in this still-developing settlement. 

She waves him over, and gestures for him to sit next to her. “Well,” Aloy starts, in what she hopes is a casual voice. “What now?” 

Erend hesitates before sitting down, and then leans back against the headboard. “I called Zo while you were napping–” Aloy feels her lips curl at that, she does not take naps– “and she says you’re going to be playing catch-up on sleep for a while.” 

In this moment, reclining next to the man she’s been desperate to pretend she wasn’t missing for weeks, able to hide her nervously fiddling fingers beneath the too-long-but-comforting drape of his sleeves, the lack of anything significant to get done feels like a relief instead of a burden, as it means she doesn’t need to make any other excuse to stay. 

“Looks like we’ll be taking it easy,” Erend says, and he meets her eyes with a hesitant smile that, when she returns it with one of her own, stretches into a grin. One night of restless sleep and reassurances didn’t turn out to be a cureall, but maybe a little break with good company is just what she needs.

-

Three days slip by right in front of Aloy almost without her noticing. It’s just so easy to fall back into their shared routine of doing nothing together, but this time is even better. Their activities are more or less the same– playing endless rounds of Strike, sharing favorite data files back and forth on their Focuses, trading deliberately light-hearted stories from their month apart– but rather than a cold steel table between them, they sit hip-to-hip against the bed’s headboard, and the days don’t end, not really. Aloy doesn’t need to carefully choose the moment where she’ll say goodnight and retreat to her room. Instead she just…falls asleep, nods off mid-conversation and wakes up to find that Erend moved her to be laying more comfortably before joining her beneath the sheets. 

Truthfully, it’s too hot in Hidden Ember to comfortably be close to someone who radiates heat like he does for long, but after that first night, neither of them bother pretending like they’re going to sleep any other way. 

Even during the day, Aloy finds herself trying to get closer to him. She doesn’t have any practice sharing space with another person, especially doing so casually enough not to be noticed, but she tries her best, pretending to stretch or moving the sheets away to get some air, and just so happening to end up with her head on Erend’s shoulder. She keeps waiting for him to tell her to stop bothering him, or at least ask her what she's doing, but he never does. 

She’ll slip into naps like that, resting against him, and when she inevitably jolts awake, Erend’s right there to remind her they’re only dreams. 

Because the dreams do persist, to her growing frustration. Overworking herself didn’t make a dent in them, and now this– the longest break she’s ever allowed herself, unless you count the broken ribs that trapped her in Stone’s Echo– also isn’t doing anything to bring her a peaceful night’s rest. It doesn’t seem fair.

At one point that first lazy afternoon, Erend tries to ask her directly about the dreams, a topic Aloy is still trying to avoid addressing head-on, however impossible to ignore it might be. 

"Is every night like that?" 

Aloy just shrugs, noncommittal, dodging eye contact. She's aware it’s sort of a pointless effort, refusing to expose this weak spot to the man she spent the night before clinging to in obvious distress, but still. A need to minimize the issue remains, a desperation to come out the other side of this temporary incapacity as someone Erend respects. 

At her silence, she hears him sigh, but Erend can be stubborn too. 

"How long has this been going on?" 

Aloy risks a glance at him and immediately regrets it, because not even she can stay quiet when he turns the full force of those big sad eyes on her. "I don't know," she says quietly, a lie, but wanting to give him something. "I've had bad dreams since the Proving. It's fine." 

Erend narrows his eyes at her. "Ok, but how long like this?" 

It's a deliberate, conscious effort for Aloy to open her mouth and shape it around the truth. "Since everyone left the Base," she forces out, barely above a whisper. "And it keeps getting worse. I thought. I thought if I got out on the road, hunted and fought until I was actually tired… I thought it'd get better with time but it's not and I don't know what else to do." 

Somewhere in the middle of finally acknowledging at least part of the problem, she closes her eyes, so she's not expecting it when Erend's hand comes to rest on her shoulder. Aloy can't make herself look at him again, but she is able to drag in a deep breath, relax the muscles in her back and arms she hadn't realized she tensed. 

"Well I have a suggestion, but I don't think you're going to like it." He sounds nervous and Aloy almost wants to laugh. 

"It's already pretty bad Erend, what could be worse?" 

"Sometimes with nightmares it helps to talk about them."

"No." 

"Aloy-" 

"No. Why would that- Forget it." She shakes her head, hard, every part of her recoiling from the idea. Bad enough he knows about the dreams at all, she's not going to sit here and ask… no. Aloy's hit with an insane urge to turn and hide her face in Erend's chest– he's the reason she feels a need to hide but he's also the person she knows would shield her and it doesn't make any sense so she does nothing instead. Makes herself still, like a hare hoping the fox will pass her by.  

"Hey, it's alright," she hears him say. There's an odd note in his voice though, something ringing hollow, and it's enough to get Aloy to look up at him again. His posture is hunched and he's averting his gaze and it makes Aloy want to shake him, want to shake herself for always setting him up to make things his fault. 

"Erend, no." That part's easy, she tells people no all the time. It's the next part that's hard, that has her covering her face, hiding her face in her borrowed sleeves and letting the darkness be comforting enough to keep her talking. Her voice comes out in a strained whisper, but it does come out. "You're not the problem. If… if anyone else had come to get me, I would've snuck out by now, ok? I wouldn't have stayed." 

There's a moment of quiet, a hesitation, and then Erend shifts closer, slides his arm around her shoulders and gives her a tentative squeeze, a half-embrace that she can't lean into yet, not sure she's earned it. 

A part of her thinks it's only fair that she explain. But she's scared too, a kind of fear that's different from a harrowing battle, from rock climbing in the rain– this isn't exhilarating. It's a slow-creeping fear she associates with childhood, hiding in grass she barely stands taller than and watching Nora Mothers and their children play. The certain knowledge that she'd never be wanted there making her tremble but she couldn’t look away.

Aloy's taken up so much of Erend's time already, dragged him so far from his home and his life besides, and she doesn't know how she'll take it if he hears her out and then realizes-

"I just… can't right now." It's the best she can do, which isn't much at all, but Erend pulls her in tighter and she lets herself relax into his arms, a sensation that's quickly growing familiar and vital.

"That's just fine, Aloy. I'm not gonna make you tell me anything. Just…" He leans his head against hers, voice pitched to soothe. "If you do want to talk about it, I'd listen. That's all." 

She nods, still covering her face, and after a beat, Erend blessedly changes the topic. 

-

On the second day, Aloy decides she wants a proper shower. It’s mostly an excuse to get out of this room– she needs to see the sky, stretch her legs, make sure she still can leave, prove she isn’t just hiding– but she also can’t bring herself to take Erend up on his offer to visit Hidden Ember’s new tavern. Too many people who will ask her what she’s doing in town, who might need her help with something. 

She’s decided to go early in the morning, sun barely peeking over the horizon. Erend offers to walk her down, but she's determined to sneak there and back unseen, and stealth isn't exactly Erend's forte. 

The quiet trek down beneath the main building’s ramps and platforms is a success, most of the settlement only just beginning to stir. Aloy's impressed with what Morlund was able to rig up under the exposed tower in such a short amount of time. Tapping her Focus, she observes how a simple pump system pulls water from the continuous overflow to a large central tank, runs it through a basic filter– she assumes the primary purpose is to strain out any sand– and then down a forking track of four skinny pipes to four curtained-off stalls. Much like their source, the showers run continuously, all of the water collecting into drains to be used elsewhere in the settlement where non-potable water could be helpful. 

Erend had said that to be honest, it wasn't all being used yet, but the water flows up from the ruins below regardless, and as new Oseram continue to arrive, they'll be grateful to already have this system up and running. 

It’s not until she’s securely inside one of the stalls that she realizes she walked all the way over in Erend’s easily-recognizable shirt and has to roll her eyes at herself. The ‘curtains’ are woven grass rugs really, but hung vertically for privacy. The stalls were designed with plenty of space to change and place any supplies to the side, away from the steady spray, falling straight down from a high showerhead like rain. 

There’s no need to heat the water out here in the desert– the pipes themselves are already hot. The warm water is relaxing, and Aloy loses track of time, giving more care to her hair than she might have otherwise, considering she only just washed it, rinsing it twice with the honeybush oil Zo had last stocked their supplies with. There’s a vague thought in the back of her mind that she’s hesitant to seriously consider but can’t completely ignore either– does Erend also notice what she smells like? Does he like it? 

They’d woken up entwined together again, her back to his front this time, and his face had definitely been buried in her hair. There’s some small fluttery part of her that wonders if he wakes before her and pulls her in close like that, if he doesn’t just want to help her, but wants to hold her. The alternative is that she’s moving closer in her sleep, betraying her weaknesses, and she can only hope Erend hasn’t noticed. 

Aloy startles out of her musings when she hears footsteps, another curtain being drawn back and then closed, and she curses under breath. Drying off and dressing in her own clothes again hurriedly, Aloy races back to the lodgings, thanking her luck for having found her Focus all those years ago with every step she’s able to dodge around someone’s gaze. 

She hesitates for a moment outside of Erend’s door, isn’t sure if she needs to knock or not, before reasoning that he’d hardly expect her to under normal circumstances, let alone the odd ones they’re in. Pushing the door open, Aloy feels all of the tension of evading Hidden Ember’s residents drain out of her as she finds Erend sitting at his small table, humming tunelessly as he carefully mends reattaches one of the tassets of her Forester armor that tore loose. He has a small, absent smile on his face, one she’s caught him with several times in the last couple of days– and if she thinks back, in the Base as well.

It’s a look he gets when he’s working. Or no, she realizes in the moment, as she considers her memories of the expression, it’s a look Erend gets when he works on something for someone else. She can picture him cooking meatless dinners for Zo, putting wooden trunks together for Beta to begin to store her things, and hundreds of little things he’s done for her. Like this– finding a problem with her armor and just…fixing it. Keeping her safe, and smiling all the while, happy to be doing it and not needing to be asked. 

A matching smile spreads across her face. 

Aloy’s been struggling with how to thank Erend for taking care of her while she’s ‘sick’. Would it be better to wait until she’s recovered to say something? Or should she be thanking him each time he offers her support? That sounds like too much, so she’s waiting, but there’s been a guilt hanging over her in that silence. In a way, it’s a relief to have something so easy to show her appreciation for. 

“Erend,” she calls warmly, entering the room. “You don’t have to do that.” 

The way his smile always widens into a grin when he sees her, the way his eyes light up– she never wants to lose that. 

“Wouldn’t be much of an Oseram if I could ignore armor in need of repairs.” He gestures at where her Winterweave is still piled on the table. “I noticed your Utaru set is looking a little worn too. I wiped it down, got the sand out of it, but I’m not sure how to take care of it otherwise.” 

For lack of other options, Aloy pulls herself up to sit on the table itself, is tickled when Erend has to look up at her to continue the conversation. Sorting through her pouches, still piled on the same surface, she pulls out a small earthen jar and a rag. “Zo gave me an oil for it. The reeds have to stay moisturized or they’ll get brittle and snap.” 

Erend raises an eyebrow. “So you thought it’d make a great set for the desert?” 

Swinging her legs idly as she starts in on oiling the woven chestplate, Aloy shrugs. “It’s not like I was thinking clearly at the time.” She’s surprised by how smoothly the admittance rolls off her tongue, a joking tone but still an acknowledgement that she hadn’t been at her best. She doesn’t even tense up after she says it– just glances at Erend to find a matching relaxed humor in his eyes. 

“Anyway,” she continues, shifting back to the words she’s been turning over in her head since she opened the door. “Thanks.”

“Nah, don’t mention it,” Erend starts immediately, and Aloy frowns at his tendency to dismiss any praise. 

“Erend, I mean it.” She’s not as good at earnest as he is, but she does her best, holding eye-contact, gentling her voice the best she can. “No one takes care of me like you do.” She startles herself with her own sincerity, ducks her head, pretends to focus on working the oil into a particularly tight groove in the weave and hopes that’s enough to hide the blush she can feel rising in her cheeks. 

That’s not what she meant to say. Or it is, because it’s true, but she didn’t mean for it to come out so…fondly. It’s too much, especially when they’re both still pretending they don’t want anything more than what they have, when they’re spending so much time together and lines are blurring out of Aloy’s control. 

She risks a look and finds Erend still blinking in surprise, cheeks pink, staring at her like a sunrise. It takes him a moment to respond, but he sits up straight when he does, a determined light in his eyes. “Well, more people should. You’ve earned some taking care of.”  

Aloy rolls her eyes at that, tries to imagine anyone else shifting through her kit and pulling out pieces to clean and repair without her supervision, suppresses a shudder of discomfort at the idea. I don’t want anyone else taking care of me, she thinks, but thankfully doesn’t say. Instead she huffs and says, “I’m thanking you right now. Thank you.” Aloy cuts him off before he can continue insisting that she needs any more spoiling. “I’m late to learning these things, but I’m told the correct response is ‘you’re welcome’?” 

She relaxes when he barks a laugh, ‘moment’ successfully diverted, and they settle back into another afternoon together.

-

She’s back at the top of the Alight, squinting through the smokey air to make out the burning remains of the corrupted machines she and her friends took down. The Deathbringer shudders and collapses in the same moment she finds it, a final arrow driving into a heat exhaust vent, but it isn’t one of hers. 

Aloy doesn’t have her bow at all– a quick check reveals she has no weapons, no armor. Looking around, her friends are celebrating their victory as Kotallo drives Sylens’ spear through Hades’ glowing red ‘eye’. As the light flickers and goes out, another mighty cheer goes up, Talanah sweeping Beta into a warm hug, Erend and Varl clasping hands before Zo pulls the Nora Brave away for a passionate kiss. 

Aloy steps forward, walks among them, but no one looks her way. Erend raises his hammer at the cliff’s edge, one arm thrown around a bashful Beta’s shoulders, signaling their win to the people of Meridian below, and Aloy calls and calls their names but they don’t hear her. She grabs for their arms, but her hands pass right through them. She’s not here, not real, not needed, the world is saved but she’s not in it, but how could she ask anyone to care about that more than the fate of the planet? 

She sinks to her knees, watching her friends and allies start to descend the battle-torn path, left behind beneath the searing sun. She should be happy for them, but she’s trembling so hard she feels she’ll shake apart, tries again to scream, desperate for anyone to turn and look at her but no one does, she’s alone again, will always be alone- 

Aloy wakes quietly, compared to other nightmares, but she reaches for Erend immediately, finding his shoulders in the dark and pulling herself into his chest, burying her face in his neck to muffle her frantic breathing. He stirs, wraps his arms around her in turn and cradles her close, and Aloy is so relieved to have him there, the tears she held back spill over. 

Erend waits her out, rubs her back until her trembles ease, and then murmurs quietly into her hair, “Want to talk about it?” 

She hesitates. Tries to imagine how to explain something so selfish, so small in the grand scheme of all of their problems. Aloy opens her mouth but nothing comes out and ultimately, she just shakes her head, and accepts the comfort she may not deserve when Erend’s arms tighten around her in response.