Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“Did you know?”

The first words out of Amanda’s mouth make them flinch back into the shelter of the doorway. The shipwright didn’t turn to face them, her back and shoulders tense as she monitored the H.E.L.M’s controls. Verda didn’t answer.

Amanda looked over her shoulder at them, blue eyes half-hidden by the fall of her hair. “Did you know?” she repeated. Of course Amanda had access to the communication logs. Of course she knew that they’d listened to the communication between her and Crow.

Verda tucked their chin to their chest. “Of course I knew.”

“And you didn’t tell me!?” Amanda turned fully to face them. “You let me become friends with him, let me—” She shook her head. “He killed Cayde!”

"Uldren killed Cayde.” Verda fought to keep their voice level. “Crow had no idea until Savathun gave him his memories back.”

Harsh expletives exploded from the mechanic as she paced towards them. She jabbed a finger into their face once she closed the distance. “How can you forgive him? After everything he did!”

They swallowed against the warble of their modulator and fought back the burning of their optics. First Crow’s rejection of their platitudes, now Amanda. “Because Crow isn’t Uldren, as much as he may think he is.” They released a burst of static. “I watched him save Osiris, Amanda. Hell, he’s saved my life more than once, and we both know Uldren would’ve killed me at the first opportunity.”

She scoffed and turned away. “You’re too much of a soft touch, Guardian.”

“Amanda…”

“I’ve got work to do. I imagine you do too.”

Verda could only watch as the shipwright returned to her post, shoulders hunched forward as a barrier between herself and them. They shook their head. “...I’m sorry.”

They retreated.

Amanda didn’t say a word.

Chapter Text

The range of the Nightmares continued to grow. They had reached the Cabal blockade, the phantoms hanging lifeless in the air of their hangars and hallways. Some woke, screaming. Others defected—though whether driven by temptation, boredom, or fear, it was unclear. The Eliksni Splicers kept to strict rotations for similar reasons, lest they lose their own to madness and grief. If only the Vanguard had such flexibilities.

They’d called in what Guardians they could, rotated fireteams on and off the Leviathan to H.E.L.M, then back to Earth, but many struggled in the face of their deepest wounds and thoughts revealed. Not all had the protection Eris had bestowed upon Crow and Zavala, and even Verda felt the drag. The longer this dragged out, the longer it took to complete each severance, the worst things became: Aris had become…cold. Quiet. Something worried her but she’d not given voice to it. Titan jumped at shadows and often seemed lost in thought. And then, their own Nightmares…

"C’mon, V. You really think combing through more data is going to turn anything up? ” The Nightmare of Cayde-6 leaned against the wall beside their console, arms crossed. "If Ikora or Aris haven’t found anything, what makes you think you will?"

“Because it never hurts to try,” they muttered, scrubbing a hand down their face.

The Nightmare snorted. "Right. Because that’s panned out for you before."

Verda knew they shouldn’t respond, that doing so would just encourage their own dark thoughts, but they were so tired. “It has, actually. Not every time, but I’ll be damned if I’m going to let Calus turn Sol into a Nightmare playground.”

"T-o-u-c-h-y," Cayde sang. "Don’t like the idea of failing, do you?"

“Stakes are too high.”

"Ah, but aren’t they always? Cosmic war, and all that." He paused. "Hey, at what point do you get a break? I’ve watched all these other Guardians on rotation, but you’re the only one who hasn’t been back to Earth since this all started—beyond visiting our intrepid Commander, of course."

They felt the hiss of their vents as their jaw mechanism fired. “There’s too much to do.”

"Right. Because it’s all on you, like usual. Verda against the galaxy."

“Would you shut up?” they snapped.

Their only answer was the mocking laughter of their former Vanguard.

"I told you. They’ll use you up until there’s nothing left, Guardian."

Stars, if this night couldn’t get any worse. Their personal Nightmare of Uldren hovered just out of sight and picked at his nails. He’d been…quieter, since Crow had turned his Nightmare into a Memory, but he hadn’t fully disappeared. 

"I know you’re afraid of failure, but isn’t this a little much?" he continued. "Unless, you only have value to them if you’re constantly making miracles happen."

They closed their eyes against the words, against the truth in them. That fear had dogged them from their early days as a New Light—they’d only just escaped the settlement that clearly had a bone to pick with Exos, made it to the Tower, and had immediately been thrown into the fray. No one ever asked about why they’d shown up soot stained, or why they avoided large pockets of people in those early months: but they were praised every time they had a success in the field, every time they brought back a piece of Gold Age tech, or useful information. Their friendship with Cayde, with Aris and Titan and Clan Mars all seemed to have come about by what they could do for the group; their value lay in what they could do for others. And…that never changed. They were selected for the drop on the Dreadnaught—Cayde’s wild, unsanctioned plan to set up a transmat zone—because of their success in the field and proficiency with Void. Zavala had sent them to Saladin because he knew their success with managing the Fallen and holding a position. Even Ikora called them a friend because they’d managed to find her and convince her to return to the Vanguard during the Red War. All of their friendships were predicated on what they could do to help others. 

Even Crow.

There it is," Uldren’s nightmare crooned. They could feel the ghost of his presence against their back. "You only have value to them if you’re able to do the impossible. To lead the Vanguard to success time and time again." His laughter was cruel. "No one would care if you just…disappeared into your title. So long as the Guardian is able to get results? Verda-8 doesn’t matter."

Verda pressed their hands over their antennae and curled forward. "No. No. You’re wrong.”

"Am I?" They felt him shift, fingers on the nape of their neck. "I think that’s why you relate a little too strongly to your Commander: ‘It doesn’t matter how I feel’. You may not have failed a child, but you’ve certainly failed your chosen family: you never told Crow the truth, you lost those Clanmates of yours during the Red War…" His smile cut like a knife. "Cayde-6."

Their hands slammed down onto the console as they shoved themself back and staggered to their feet. Their chair clattered to the floor with a metallic echo.

Their Nightmares were nowhere to be found.

Chapter Text

Verda-8 knew they’d be facing Ghaul again on the Leviathan, the same way they’d known that Cayde-6 and Uldren Sov would shadow their own steps when Eris told them about the Nightmares. They’d known they’d probably face many of the same enemies that had manifested on the Moon, that they’d fought in the belly of the Pyramid. They thought they had prepared themself.

The nightmares had returned to interrupt their rest with the echoing rasp of his voice after they’d helped Eris delve into Calus’ consciousness, had continued as Ghaul’s voice replaced Safiya’s and Uldren’s to give life to Caiatl’s doubts and fears. It left them on edge: a weapon always near at hand, or their armor a more frequent shield between them and the outside world. Verda stopped taking off their helmet when they returned to H.E.L.M. after a patrol. They became grateful for their Exo body’s capacity to function on little or no sleep. In the safety of their jump ship, they cradled Quin close and let his voice offer them comfort. 

Verda realized how bad it had gotten, when Aris met them at the foot of the ramp leading to the inside of their Wings with a scowl.

“We’re having a conversation, as a Fireteam. Leave your helmet here.” The Warlock looked them up and down. “Be there in five.” She turned and strode off without a word, the heels of her boots clicking against the hangar floor.

Verda looked at Quin, who expanded his shell in a shrug. 

Titan and Aris waited for them under the shadow of Titan’s ship, both armored and armed (like they were, hand cannon on one thigh and a scout rifle across their back) where they sat around a fold-out table. One of Aris’ teapots rested on the tabletop, steam curling from the spout where the pot sat in the midst of a matching set of cups. The bigger Exo looked up at their approach and offered them a dim smile as Aris gestured for them to take the remaining empty seat. 

Verda settled into the rickety chair with a huff and Quin orbited their head. 

“Glad you could join us,” the Warlock quipped, hands folded in her lap. “I know we’ve had a lot on our plates, but that’s no reason not to rest.”

Titan’s sigh mirrored Verda’s, both hissing with static. “Aris…”

She raised a hand. “Neither you, nor Verda, are sleeping. And I imagine it has something to do with Caiatl’s nightmare, yes?”

Both the Titan and the Hunter flinched back in their chairs. 

“As I suspected.” Aris leaned forward to cup the teapot in her hands and began pouring the tea into each individual cup. “And seeing as neither of you has said anything about it, I figured it best if I made a space for you to talk.”

“There’s nothing to talk about,” Verda said curtly. They ignored Quin’s chiding down their bond.

Titan shot them a look that was mild in comparison to Aris’ scowl. 

“That’s what you said when you found me off-world, before you threw yourself at a Vex Minotaur like your life had little meaning beyond the return of your Light.”

Verda’s mouth turned red.

Titan gently knocked his knee against Aris’ under the table and shook his head at the Warlock, who huffed in return.

“What I’m trying to say is that I’m here. For both of you.” She set the pot down. “I…know I wasn’t in the City when Ghaul sacked it, so I don’t fully understand the depth of your feelings on the topic, but…” She met each of their gazes as she pushed them both a cup of tea. “I want to help.”

Verda watched the mechanism of Titan’s jaw whir as he sighed and his optics dimmed. His shoulders drew upwards. He wrapped his big hands around the dainty teacup. “I know, Aris. It’s just…hard to talk about.” His throat worked, synthetic muscles flexing as he swallowed. “Being buried when you have the Light and the strength to dig out is one thing. When you don’t have that…”

Aris laid her hand over the larger Exo’s wrist. 

He offered her a tight smile. “I’m lucky I made it out. Most of the other Tower staff and Guardians weren’t so lucky.” His violet optics moved to Verda. “We both got really lucky.”
The Hunter twisted their cup with a hand as their Ghost settled in their cape’s cowl, against their throat. “...Yeah. Fall should’ve killed me.”

Aris’ teacup clinked quietly against her mouth as she took a sip. “You were on the Command ship.”

Verda nodded stiffly. “Yeah. Was in the Plaza when Ghaul hit the Tower and managed to get connected with Zavala, Ikora, and Cayde.” They watched the tea ripple in their cup. “I was the only one I think Zavala could comfortably spare. You were off-world, and I couldn’t get a hold of Titan—civilian evacuation took priority for the other Guardians.”

The big Exo released his cup before he could chip the delicate porcelain. “You went alone.”

“We knew that,” Aris added softly. “We read the reports. The Vanguard had no idea what we were dealing with and Zavala thought one Guardian would be enough.”

His vents hissed as he shook his head and sat back in his seat.

“Would’ve been fine, if we had known what Ghaul was trying to do.” Verda shrugged. “But none of us could’ve guessed that the Cabal had tech that could seal the Traveler.”

“We were lucky he never actually drained it of its Light,” Quin added, tinny voice muffled by the cowl of Verda’s cloak.

Aris inclined her head as Adam appeared at her shoulder, purple fins tipped with gold tilted down as he settled in her upturned palm, on the table. There was a clear question in the way he blinked up at her, in the way he glanced at each of the members of Fireteam Siphon in turn. “We were on Io when the Light just…disappeared.”

Adam’s shell flexed as he shivered. “It wasn’t a good experience. I’d rather not repeat it.”

Titan snorted. “You and me both.”

“I don’t think any Guardian who lived through that came back the same,” Verda murmured.

Aris looked down at her Ghost, as Titan glanced off to one side. The Light had returned to each of them—Verda through the shard in the EDZ, Titan and Aris after the Traveler had been released— and they had become Guardians again, but it had been…different. They were each different.

Verda huffed a static sigh and scrubbed a hand down their face. “I can’t look down anymore, when I have to make a jump. The height gives me vertigo.”

Aris raised her golden gaze to blink at the Hunter. 

“Small spaces, for me,” Titan added. “Wasn’t comfortable before; now I can’t stand them. Feels like the walls are closing in.”

Verda glanced up from their tea to watch the Titan. “Gets you when you dream, too?”

His head bobbed in a nod. “Yeah. I know we don’t dream often, but if it’s not the Crypt, it’s Ghaul, and if it’s not Ghaul…”

Verda offered him a tight, grey-tinged smile. “It’s something else, yeah?”

His chin dipped in a nod.

“I—” Their voice cracked, faltered as the lights of their throat flickered. “It’s—The Light—” Verda shook their head and released their cup to close their hand into a fist on the table, shoulders jerking up towards their antennae. 

Quin brushed a fin against their jaw before he left the shelter of their cowl. “The song is different for them, now, than it was before. They’re grateful that their affinity for the Void wasn’t compromised, but…” His shell shifted around him, metal glinting in the light. “Even though we were the first to get it back, it’s never been the same. Arc is harder to access now, and Solar…” He glanced at his Hunter, who tucked their chin in their cowl. “You know that they didn’t mix well with fire. Now it comes almost too easily.”

Verda offered him a grateful look as the light of their mouth cycled to a dull blue. 

Quin pressed his optic to their temple in a kiss. “It was terrifying. I had gone offline and fallen before they did—I couldn’t find them. There were so many dead Guardians, and without the Light…”

“We were burying the bodies for weeks in the aftermath,” Titan said, voice low. “Tried to pair up as many Ghosts to Guardians as we could, but…” His own Ghost materialized in front of him, above his teacup. Titan offered him a tired smile. “Had a lot of folks like that bartender, Bast. Guardians who lost their Ghosts. Ghosts who lost their Guardians.”

Aris traced the edge of one of Adam’s fins with a gentle finger. “It’s not been an easy thing to come back from.”

Verda nodded as Quin hummed their shared agreement. “I think that’s why it’s hard, now.”

“He’s not our Nightmare, but haunts us all the same?” the Warlock asked.

Quin’s fins flicked down as he glanced at his Guardian. “More…we thought it was behind us. The Red War. Ghaul.”

Titan grunted. “Supposed to be behind us.”

“But that’s not how trauma works,” Adam murmured, turning from his Guardian. “There are always going to be triggers.”

Verda huffed softly and sat back to fold their arms over their chest as they glanced away, mouth grey.

Quin snorted. “They know that. Doesn’t mean they put it into practice, though.”

His words earned a narrowed-eyed glare from his Guardian.

“You know I’m right. We were just talking about how—” Their Ghost squawked as the Hunter made a swipe at him, sending the little Light spinning towards Aris.

Both the Warlock and the Titan chuckled, the former covering her glowing mouth with a hand. Quin huffed at the lot of them with a shake of his fins and ignored the tittering that echoed from both Adam and Ghost as he floated above the teapot, just out of his Guardian’s reach. Said Guardian just grinned at him, mouth a vivid green. 

The white-and-gold Ghost huffed at them and flicked his shell at them. “You’re allowed to still be upset about it sometimes.” He turned his blue optic on the other Guardians. “All of you. It was—it still is—scary to think about what happened. To hear Ghaul again. There’s no shame in that.”

Both Titan and Verda glanced away, but Aris gently released Adam to pat Verda’s Ghost on the top of his shell. “Thank you, Quinnaelius. The reminder has been much needed.” She glanced at her teammates. “I can’t…make talking about it any easier, but I can be here for you both, as you have been here for me.” Her modulator skipped as she sighed. “And thank you. For sharing what you have.”

Titan offered the Warlock a muted smile and a hand as Verda’s foot knocked against hers beneath the table. She smiled at them both and entwined her fingers between her Titan partner’s.

“What else are fireteams for, right?” Verda quipped.

Titan snorted. 

“I suppose you are correct. We are support, on and off the field.” She squeezed Titan’s hand. “And here to remind you both that your tea is probably getting cold.”

Her quip garnered a laugh from both of her teammates as she smiled, grateful that she could ease the tension.

Even if it was only for a moment.

Chapter Text

They could hear him sometimes, away from the Leviathan and the Moon and the H.E.L.M. He joined them, whispered in their ear, especially in the Dreaming City.

“Ironic, that you now enjoy my home as you do,” the Memory of Uldren murmured from somewhere on their left. 

Verda nestled more deeply into the narrow outcropping and checked their sightlines. “...It’s beautiful.”

“It always has been.” His sigh is almost…wistful. “My sister crafted it, you know. Pulled it out of the ether and into existence.”

“With the help of a little wish magic.”

“That too.” He chuckled. “Mara is capable of many wondrous things.”

The Exo Hunter sighed and pulled their attention away from their scope to look up at the Memory. He was only barely visible, outlined in whatever passed for sunlight in the Reef. “She is. She’s also capable of great harm.”

“So are you. So is your Traveler.”

They shook their head with a static hiss. “Not…arguing with you there.”

Uldren scoffed. “I’d know better than anyone?”

“On both sides of this equation.” Verda turned their gaze back out to the sprawling expanse of Rheasilva. “From me, and from Mara.”

His soft sigh was answer enough as both Guardian and Memory lapsed into silence.

“He does miss her, you know,” Uldren said softly. “He doesn’t want to, but the feelings I held for Mara…”

“I know.” They’d seen it in the twist of Crow’s mouth every time Mara sent another missive, in the way he didn’t know how to respond. “I don’t think she’s ever going to have the relationship she had with you, though.”

“That I know, too.” He paused and appeared to bend down and pluck a red flower from a tuft that grew nearby. “Probably for the best. For all of us.”