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He’d pushed them. Polnareff, Iggy. They’d gotten away. They had to have gotten away.
Avdol had broken the promise they’d made, but it had felt right to do so. He hadn’t thought about it. Hadn’t had the time to think about it. But he didn’t regret it, even if it cost him his life.
Avdol had had his fair share of near-death experiences throughout his life. He’d thought about what might await him beyond his existence on earth, but he’d never had a concrete idea of what death would be like.
The thought of there being simply nothing after life had of course crossed Avdol’s mind. But any time he had considered that idea, he’d never imagined he’d have to be conscious for that nothing.
And that’s where he was, presumably for good, in that cold, dark nothing. Not cold in the typical sense, not cold as in “low temperatures”. Cold as in no temperature at all. The same went for the dark, which wasn’t as much the absence of light, but the absence of any visual at all.
Although Avdol could still vaguely see himself when he looked down, his vision blurred and shook, so he closed his eyes. He still felt pain. His arms stung where the enemy stand had cut clean trough them, but not nearly as bad as he’d have imagined a severed limb to hurt. Still, that you’d continue to suffer the pain of life even in death, no matter how reduced, was cruel. Avdol counted himself lucky he hadn’t died a more gruesome death.
Time didn’t pass right here. When Avdol opened his eyes, he couldn’t tell if seconds or hours had passed, maybe even more. Avdol tried to make noise, called out, but nothing ever left his mouth. Trying to bring out Magician’s Red only resulted in further disappointment. Any attempts at movement were just as futile. Not that anything existed to be moved towards.
Avdol pressed his eyes shut again, tightly, focusing on any sensation he could still feel. The distant glide of his clothes against his skin, the beat of his heart, even the pain. Anything to drown out the nothing that surrounded him. Avdol breath came heavy, too fast.
His eyes stayed firmly shut until he hit something. How had he hit something? There hadn’t been anything around him. But he was laying on something. The floor, he was laying on his back on the floor of a room he didn’t know. It was too bright. The room itself was dark, but after seeing nothing for so long, even darkness felt too bright. He’d died, hadn’t he? Had been dead for an unknown amount of time. It made no sense. Why had he appeared here, alive again?
The pain hit him fully now. It tore along the remainder of his arms and into his spine. That’s how Avdol could be certain he was alive. Only life could hurt like this. Blood gushed from the open wounds, collecting in a puddle on his chest. It clung to Avdol’s clothes and skin, sticky and hot, far too hot, like it wanted to burn its way back into his flesh.
His vision swam, every angle and corner of the room hellbent on making any attempt at orientation impossible. With great difficulty Avdol flipped to his chest. A fresh wave of pain shook his body. Avdol cried out, felt himself cry out, but yet again, not a sound left his mouth.
He franticly turned his head in search of something, anything, he could make sense of in that room. He had to know where he’d ended up. Something warm and wet ran down Avdol’s face. Blood or tears, he couldn’t tell which. He couldn’t clear his thoughts. His mind as clouded as his vision, everything felt distant, but like all too much at the same time. Breathing felt near impossible.
Movement. Avdol spotted movement in the distance. It was something. Avdol would take anything at this point.
He had to move towards it.
He didn’t have the strength to try and get up, so he moved along the floor. Avdol pushed himself forwards, mostly legwork, his breath coming in short, laboured gasps. Every time his arms touched the rough stone floor it felt like his lungs stopped working altogether. Avdol knew he’d cried out in pain more than once, but only his heavy breathing could be heard. The wetness along his face grew worse, running down his checks and along his neck. Avdol left a trail of blood along the floor.
Squinting at the movement, Avdol could make out a figure. Somebody was there with him. They were illuminated by a cold blue light, its source not apparent. Avdol dragged himself further and stopped. He knew the person he saw in the distance. Although his sight was hazy, Avdol was certain he recognised the figure. The tight black top, the strangely styled silver tower of hair, the familiar way he moved. It was unmistakably Polnareff.
The first clear thought in a while crossed Avdol’s mind.
Polnareff was alive. He must have beat the stand user that had almost killed Avdol. Together they could figure this out. They could regroup, collect themselves. Polnareff hadn’t noticed him yet, but he would. Avdol went to call for him as he crawled further. Soon he’d be close enough for Polnareff to see him too. Only, then Avdol noticed a second humanoid figure. An uneasy aura followed them, immediately opening up a pit of dread in Avdol’s chest.
Dio. That feeling could only be caused by Dio. Surely Polnareff had notice him, right? Yes, it looked like they were about to start fighting. He couldn’t let Polnareff face Dio alone, no matter his own state of health. Avdol had to do something, it’s what he came to Egypt to do, to kill Dio. Polnareff knew his stuff when it came to the battlefield, but he was a man of honour. Dio on the other hand showed no understanding of what honour even meant. There wasn’t a chance Avdol would sit and watch as Polnareff fought that dishonest bastard.
But he still couldn’t summon Magician’s Red. Trying to stand up didn’t work. Avdol continued trying to crawl closer, but he couldn’t seem to close the distance. He couldn’t even see the two men clearly. Just blurs of colour as he desperately tried to tell what was happening. Dio can’t already have the upper hand. The fight had only just begun. Polnareff could hold his own. Surely Polnareff could hold his own, even against a terrifying foe like Dio. But Avdol had to know for sure, had to be certain. He had to help. He just had to get close enough.
That’s when he saw the blood. Somebody went down with a scream. It wasn’t Dio. Polnareff. Something had hit him hard. But he’d get up. He had to get up. That’s what he did, always get up again, no matter what.
But this time he didn’t. Avdol felt sick, felt a pain in his chest he couldn’t place. He felt lost. It happened so fast. Avdol didn’t even see how it happened. All he could tell was that there was blood, lots of it.
Avdol yelled. Yelled Polnareff’s name, yelled for his stand to appear, yelled at Dio. Avdol cursed Dio in every language he could remember the words that fit the monster that had torn through his friend. Avdol’s voice continued to fail him, not even the sobs he knew were coming from his lips by now made any sound.
Avdol could do nothing. He was useless. He couldn’t get close enough, couldn’t summon his stand, couldn’t even say anything. Polnareff was dead, and he’d done nothing to stop it.
Polnareff’s dying scream still echoed along those confusing stone walls and in Avdol’s head, impossibly loud. His blood was splattered in wide arches, some close enough for Avdol to touch if he reached forward a little bit more.
Polnareff’s body lay motionless on the floor and Avdol looked away. Even with his blurred vision, he didn’t want to see him like that.
Avdol felt DIo approaching him, heard him saying something in a sickly-sweet voice. Avdol couldn’t make sense of what it was he said, didn’t care enough to even try. He’d failed. Failed Polnareff, failed his mission. He was no match for Dio, not alone, especially not now. It was over.
Avdol felt a sharp pain in his back as Dio killed him. That time, the scream left his mouth, joining the last remaining echoes of Polnareff’s as everything faded to black.
-
Avdol sat up abruptly, struggling to force air into his lungs. He wasn’t on the floor. He wasn’t in that room. He wasn’t dead.
Dio. Where was Dio? Polnareff. What happened to Polnareff?
It was dark here too, except for a bit of light that came from a window. His arms hurt, but there wasn’t any blood. Avdol’s lungs burned. As hard as he might try, the oxygen never seemed to fully make it into his body.
He tried to focus on his surroundings, find out where he was. He sat on something soft. Avdol felt the absence of his hands strongly as he tried to feel what it was.
Avdol felt movement beside him. He squinted at it through the darkness and the tears he hadn’t noticed, alert and ready to defend himself in any way he could. After his eyes adjusted to the darkness better, he could make out a vague mess of silver hair. Avdol knew where he was now.
“Mo?”, it came from beside him, voice laced with worry and rough from sleep.
Avdol was in bed. He was in his home, their home.
Polnareff put his hand on his arm and that’s all it took for Avdol to press himself against him. He buried his face in Polnareff’s neck, chest still heaving from his struggle for breath. His tears soaked Polnareff’s shirt and skin. Polnareff was alive, they were both alive.
“Jean…”, Avdol managed to force out between his frantic gasps for air and the tears. Polnareff just held him, his hands running across Avdol’s back, gentle but firmly.
“Dio, he…” Avdol hated how pathetic he sounded.
“He’s dead. For good. He’s not coming back.” Polnareff’s hold on him tightened.
Neither of them spoke for a while as they embraced. Avdol focused on the way Polnareff’s hands felt on his back, on the way his breathing sounded, the sweet smell of the conditioner he used on his hair. They didn’t have to talk about the dream right now, they had already done so many times. They both got them, they’d both be there for the other when they woke up in a panic. Their experiences throughout the fifty day voyage to take down Dio weren’t one and the same, but they shared a bond through them. They understood each other.
“Would you like me to get your prosthetics?”, Polnareff asked, voice low. Avdol shook his head. That would require Polnareff to let go of him. It still felt like the dream would become real if Polnareff let go of him.
“No, please just…” Avdol took a shaky breath “Please just stay here, Jean.”
Avdol felt Polnareff nod and how he pressed a kiss to the side of his face. His lips were soft against Avdol’s tear-stained cheek. He felt the need to laugh, but it came out as a shaky sob. Avdol tilted his head to look up at his partner, saw that tear tracks ran along his pale face too, shining in the dim moonlight that shone through the window.
Avdol wasn’t going to fall asleep again any time soon, but that was fine as long as he wasn’t alone. Polnareff would hold him for however long he needed him to.
“Thank you.”, Avdol said, his breathing almost evened out by now. They returned to comfortable silence as they held each other. They’d both lose sleep thanks to this, but that didn’t matter. They had nowhere to be tomorrow but here.