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He's not crying, when they find him.
Maybe it'd be better if he was. If the emotion was screaming out of him, boiling over, just there. Not this... quiet pale figure hunched in on itself, huddled in the deepest shadows of a stack of crates, legs drawn to his chest and his gaze a million miles away.
Karlach settles wordlessly beside him. There are so many things she wants to do - tell him it's okay (but it's not, is it?), tell him he's safe (but he isn't, is he?). She wants to reach out and offer comfort and warmth; doesn't, because she can see more than anyone how those carefully-constructed walls around him are paper thin.
"Hey," she says instead, softly.
There's the barest hint of movement - Astarion's eyes, flicking to the side to take her in, then up and ahead, where Wyll and Halsin, Jaheira and Minsc stand, hesitant, uncertain at what move they should take next.
Lae'zel's absence is understandable. Gale's rankles, a little.
Shadowheart kneels in front of him, digging through her pack. "I don't know if my spells will still work," she says, and Karlach can see how much it pains her to admit it, that she can't just wave her hand and make things better. She pulls out a potion, holding it out, then retrieves a small jar of burn salve (one Karlach has seen her use on herself, getting a little too close to Karlach before her engine was fixed). "We could try these?"
Astarion nods listlessly, holding out one hand. With his other, he reaches for Karlach's own, dropping his head to her shoulder. She winces, unsure if the heat from her skin (and gods, she's feeling hot enough to erupt right now) will make his burns hurt worse; still, he stays close.
The salve seems to help, at any rate. Astarion remains silent as Shadowheart rubs it over his hands, his cheeks and forehead, the back of his neck; offers him the potion to drink.
He takes it. Still doesn't speak. Eyes are still so far away.
What next? says no one.
He had done the right thing, and now he was being punished for it. It's unfair. It's bullshit. Karlach wants to scream and rage, to bring Cazador back from the dead only so she could kill him herself. He had done the right thing, so where was his reward? Where were his days in the sun, warming himself like a cat, the light turning his silver hair to gold?
It shouldn't have ended like - like this, huddled like a rat in the meagre shade of a bunch of shipping containers.
"I'm sorry," she says lamely, and finally, he turns to look at her.
His voice cracks when he says, "For what?" The smile on his lips is desperately sad. "This was always going to happen, wasn't it? It was always going to be too good to last."
Her chest aches. She can feel it, has been feeling it creeping up on her all along. There's bile like fire in her throat. "Yeah," she whispers.
(Would it be better to run, to burn out like a dying star on her own? Or should she die here, surrounded by friends, piling more grief on to them for her own comfort?)
He looks at her, really properly looks at her. The pale brow is furrowed in growing concern. Wyll rocks back on his heels, hissing between his teeth; he sees it too.
"Karlach," Astarion starts slowly, carefully.
"Sorry," she says again, and her smile is feeble. Her engine feels like it's growing sharp edges, digging into her ribs, carving a hole into her. "I wanted to stay, I really fuckin' did. I wanted to - to stay with all of you. To help you find the sun again. I don't think I can, but - gods, I really wanted to."
"Karlach."
And then he has to wrench himself away as her flames erupt. Wyll jumps to his feet with a cry, taking two steps towards her before the intensity of the flames drives him back, nearly tripping over a stunned Shadowheart as he does; Halsin exclaims, his hands raising to form the motions for some spell or another.
Karlach is pretty sure it won't work. There are no flames burning on her skin to extinguish; she'll burn from the inside out.
Oh gods, it hurts.
She won't feel Shadowheart's cool touch again. She won't feel Wyll's hands in hers, dancing in the middle of camp like she never has before. She won't feel Astarion, learning to quietly trust, leaning into her hugs.
But she's with them. That's okay. It's okay. Astarion hasn't burned, and Shadowheart and Wyll have a whole future of freedom ahead of them. She's been rewarded with Halsin's friendship; she's met Jaheira and Minsc, and that will never not be cool. It's okay.
"I'm sorry," she says again, and this time it's a gasp. "I love you guys, okay? Gods, I love you guys so much. I'm so happy I got to spend time with you."
Goodbye, sun. Goodbye, sea. Gods, it hurts it hurts it hurts.
"Karlach," Astarion repeats, and there are tears, actual tears in his eyes, even as he pulls that joking facade back over himself. "Really now, it's enough for just one of us to burn, isn't it, darling? You don't have to copy everything I do."
She laughs. Gods, she's going to miss him. "Glad I got to meet you, Fangs." Her gaze turns from one to the other, forcing the words from her burning throat. "Shadowheart. Wyll. Thanks for everything, yeah?"
"No," Wyll finally says, desperately. "No, stop, I won't allow this. Karlach, come with me - back to Avernus. We'll find a way to fix your engine. I won't just let you die here."
"You can't," she pleads, and flames flicker across her cheeks, her lips, up her throat again. Her eyes are prickling with tears, or maybe starting to boil from the heat. Back to Avernus? She swore she'd die first.
But she's dying already. And she doesn't want to leave. Not the world, not her friends.
"I think we can," says Astarion, and he sounds almost calm now, almost smiling through the fear in his eyes. "If we did this together - if we both came with you - who knows what we'd achieve?"
He and Wyll would go to the Hells for her. Karlach almost wants to scream through the pain through her heart. She doesn't want them to burn. She doesn't want to burn. She doesn't want to die; she doesn't want to be alone -
"Wyll," she pleads, "Astarion, no -"
"It's the smart move," Astarion shrugs. "What's left for me here? The sewers? In the Hells, I'll never have to fear the sun, and I can kill anyone I want." There's so much fear in his eyes, but there's also - love, care, trust. "And we'll all be together."
"Zariel won't touch you," Wyll says like a vow. "Still, it's your choice - die here, now, or live on with people who love you. On my life, Zariel won't touch you."
"You'll probably be needing a healer, then," Shadowheart says with a sigh and a faint smile.
Darkness, coolness spreads across them, enough to block the sunlight, enough to cool the inferno in Karlach's chest just a little. Fear grips her when she looks up and sees shadow swirling over their heads; then, her gaze tracks down to find Gale, hands finishing the movements for the Darkness spell, an expression of distinct chagrin on his face. "Could you possibly find room in your party for a wizard of some skill and only moderate hubris?"
"Gale," Astarion says, his voice catching. "What happened to godhood?"
Gale smiles sheepishly, and reaches up to pet Tara, perched on his shoulder like a strange bird. "I suppose I realised I had better things I could be consuming my time with," he says, shrugging with his free shoulder, "And if Mystra wants the crown so badly, she can fish it out of the Chionthar herself."
Karlach laughs then, dropping her head back against the crate (then jerking forward again when the scent of smouldering wood catches her nostrils). "Yeah," she says, and struggles to her feet, Astarion holding a hand out to help her up despite the fact that she's both twice his weight and still burning. "Yeah, okay. Okay. Avernus. Gods, never thought I'd be doing this again."
But it won't be the same this time, will it? She won't be a lone soldier, fighting the hordes, fighting to survive. She'll have friends, she'll have a purpose. Find a way to fix her engine, find a way for Astarion to walk in the sun again, for Gale to remove the bomb in his chest. For Wyll to learn who he is without Mizora, for Shadowheart to find a future without Shar.
Their goodbyes to Halsin and Jaheira and Minsc are swift, Wyll opening the circle, Gale boosting his fading magic. Astarion gathers their belongings, piling items donated by the three staying behind into his own pack, and his light fingers pick up a few additional supplies under the cloak of darkness Gale has woven; Shadowheart takes stock of their healing potions and burn salves.
Karlach closes her eyes. Thinks cool thoughts. Thinks about a future where all of them will come back and walk together in the sun beside the sea.
"It's done," says Wyll, and she opens her eyes again, mouths a goodbye - a see you later - to the blue sky. Then, she steps forward into the circle.
Back into Avernus. Back into the Hells. The smell of sulphur is almost an old friend, because her engine is starting to cool, her flesh starting to heal. Because Wyll is here, and Astarion, and Shadowheart, and Gale. Because she'll never be a tool for Zariel again.
"I must admit," Gale says from behind her, "This is not where I expected to end up when I got out of bed this morning."
"There probably aren't any pigeons here either," Tara adds mournfully, and Karlach laughs.
"Yeah," she grins, "But there's more than enough imps to go around."
Shadowheart heaves an affected sigh. "I'm glad I'll be here to patch you up," she mutters in mock exasperation, reaching for her spear; beside her, Wyll has taken hold of his rapier.
"You'll get to taste them soon enough," he points out pragmatically, and gestures with the blade, "Because they're coming."
"Right," Karlach says, and straightens up, "They're fast, but careless. Don't overthink it, just take them out as quick as you can." She falters, glances at the lot of them, at her friends. "It's probably not too late to back out if you're not sure, y'know. The Hells are a horrific place."
"Don't threaten me with a good time, darling," Astarion says lightly, and draws his bow.
Karlach glances across at him; he catches her eye and smiles, a proper smile, reassuring and reassured. He's not burning. Neither is she. There's the prospect of a future together, a new story to write, a new adventure to set out upon.
"Let's get into it, then," Karlach says, and hurls herself into the Hells.