Chapter Text
The thing is that Nadir knew they shouldn’t have gone at night.
That had been their last coherent thought, really. Not their last words -- their last words had been frantic, urgent, a plea slipped out before they could stop it. And they would have. Stopped it, if they could have. Monroe had already been freaking out. He didn’t need to carry the guilt of hearing Nadir scream out for help when he couldn’t realistically do anything to save them.
And that was also the thing. Really, there were several things, and they all led in the same direction. It had been preventable. Nadir could have turned back, didn’t. They thought it would be fun, or interesting, or something. Nadir could’ve seen the spider sooner if they didn’t try to let Lamb and Caldega down easy, didn’t. They had always preferred politeness to safety any day. Nadir could have dug into the side of a mountain instead of marking the site of their own death with that pillar. Didn’t. That time, they didn’t really have any room to think anything at all.
Their shout is cut off by their last heart lost. Their body stitches itself back together, yellow strands of light knitting together to create their form -- and then not quite finishing, leaving some flickering in and out every so often. (That’s weird.)
They kick their legs over the side of the bed and glance down at their now-yellow necklace, and run a still-trembling hand through their hair. The communicator on their wrist buzzes with messages they don’t care to read.
The ladder creaks as Mercury climbs up -- because of course he had to be home right now, why wouldn’t he be? He looks shocked. A little distraught. Nadir meets his eyes, wordless for a moment, before they say, voice shaking, “...Honey, I’m home!”
Mercury laughs, but doesn’t look any less taken aback. He stumbles on his words. “That-- what? How? How? ” Nadir understands that feeling completely.
“I was -- I’m sorry, my hands are shaking, give me a second,” Nadir says, before pressing their eyes shut and, well, attempting breathing. Everything still feels like it hurts. They hadn’t quite clocked that. “I’m sorry.”
“No, you’re okay, you’re okay, you’re okay.” Mercury clasps his hand over theirs, and they hold on to it, tighter than they’ve held anything before.