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If Icarus thought they’d felt anxiety—it was nothing compared to what they were feeling now.
Every step they took towards the wreckage of a raft felt like it could be their last. An odd pressure was building in their chest and soon—they feared—it was going to burst.
Rae was only a couple feet ahead of them, taking the search for knowledge in stride.
It wasn’t too late. They could just ask him to turn around, leave this whole mystery behind, and just go back home. He would probably listen, too.
But the words wouldn’t come to them. It was as if they’d been snatched from their throat the moment they went to speak. It made their hands shake, and their breathing stutter.
And eventually the fractured, sunken mess of driftwood came into view, and their chance was lost.
“Is that it?” Asked Rae, turning to face them to gauge their reaction. Icarus gave him a curt nod, not trusting their voice to work the way they wanted it to. “Alright. You’ve got the potions?”
The alchemist pulled six vials out of the leather holder strapped over their shoulder, carefully gripping three liquids in either hand. Two were filled with water breathing, two with night vision, and two with respiration.
It was new and experimental, but Rae said he could take full, deeper breaths without choking on them, so they had to have some faith in the draft of respiration. Even if they didn’t work in water, they would rather have them just in case. They also didn’t want to overwhelm their brothers lungs with water breathing potions, because of the true toll it could take.
So experimental triumphed over semi-reliable in their mind.
They handed him three of the vials, one of each liquid, and kept three for themself (They tucked the respiration draft back into their cross-body strap for safe keeping). “Water breathing first, since we know that one works.” Icarus spoke shakily, trying and failing to keep the anxiousness out of their voice. This time Rae nodded back, uncorking the bottle shimmering a deep blue, bubbles scattered throughout the liquid. Icarus mimicked the action.
Next, they uncorked the iridescent indigo containers, light from the glass bouncing off the edges of the liquid easily. Tried and true night vision couldn’t steer them wrong, right?
Of course not.
And there was no time like the present.
After both took a short breath in anticipation, they downed the vials within seconds, and dropped into the clear water below.
The clarity struck them as soon as their eyes dipped into the water, the night vision taking effect rather quickly. The raft’s colours were muted under the sea, yet still obvious against the harsh blue absorbing most of the colour.
The shape itself was rather eroded, time ageing and chipping away at the boat for what could only be centuries. What was left of the floors and general structure was covered in algae and barnacles. The wood was rotten and warped in many spots, and what likely used to be masts now held a significant curve in their edges.
Something panged in Icarus’ gut. Something familiar, almost nostalgic about the boat hitting them roughly, as they swam closer to the wreckage.
Rae immediately started opening chests, possibly looking for something that the alchemist missed the first time. They simply hung back, lingering near the broken down steps of the raft.
Despite the water breathing, their chest felt tight as the scientist continued creaking open chests, eyes flitting over the contents before moving on to the next.
Their lungs felt like they were collapsing on themself—similar to last time they were here—but they desperately wanted to ignore the sensation.
The mix of physical and emotional feelings made their head spin.
Eventually, Rae finished his semi-thorough search of the chests and looked back up to Icarus. “There’s not much here, is there?”
“Nothing that I haven’t already found, I’d guess.” They responded, grateful that the water masked the thick emotion clinging to their throat.
“Well, it’s bright gold, that’s for sure.” He said, glancing around their surroundings as if to prove the point. “I’m just gonna take a look upstairs, maybe set up a DER, and then we can head out. That sound okay?”
“Yeah. Yeah that’s fine.” Replied Icarus, bringing their arms up around their torso—a sort of shield against the odd things this sunken ship was evoking within them.
Rae seemed to pick up on this, and swam towards them slowly.
“Hey, you alright?” He asked quietly. “This isn’t too much is it?” Something flickered in his gaze—concern, if Icarus had to guess.
They didn’t want to worry him. They’d gotten pretty sick of worrying their poor brother. “Oh yeah, I’m good Rae. Don’t worry about me.”
His eyes still held a trace of that concern, despite their assurances.
“Seriously!” The alchemist threw the words out quickly, hoping they sounded relaxed enough to convince the man. “I’m alright! Just finish up your science, research, whatever—I’m okay.”
Luckily at that, Rae let out a light chuckle, something small yet telling that Icarus had succeeded in hiding their discomfort. The laugh itself lit up something warm inside them, swelling until they could almost forget about the jigsaw puzzle of feelings worming its way through their sternum.
But then Rae left their side, and those complexities came back to the fore-front of their mind.
As their brother made his way to the sort of upstairs, they felt the tightness in their chest double, somehow. (It wasn’t like the potion could run out yet, since they distinctly remembered adding redstone to the concoction to extend the time).
Part of them wanted to grab at the third, unopened vial of the set they’d made and chug it as they’d done with the others. But the little voice in the back of their head—that sounded a little bit too much like Rae—told them that that was a stupid idea, especially to test alone.
To add onto that, they were still healing from their Quixis inflicted wound.
The bandages around their torso seemed to loosen slightly as a reminder of their existence. They didn’t want to add to the damage they were trying to recover from.
So instead of listening to that persistent urge drawn to alchemy, they stuffed their hands into the pockets of their jacket to stop the temptation. Although, they missed the support their arms surrounding them had provided. It made them feel more secure in their own skin, no matter how stupid it sounded.
Rae was muttering something above them, likely talking to his auras rather than them specifically.
Icarus focused ever-so-slowly on their surroundings, listening intently to their everything to fill the time.
Normally they avoided doing this, because of how overwhelming it could get—they preferred to treat the objects voices like white noise, only catching certain things when they needed to or when drowning them out became tiring—but now they were alone, and uncomfortably anxious, so fuck it.
All at once, they let everything become far more clear.
“I don’t like it here.”
“This place is spooky—“
“Raft!!”
“What happened to the boat?”
“Icarus?”
“Sherbert—you okay?”
“Go get Rae!”
“Something feels wrong…”
“Who was Ripley?”
“Can we go home yet??”
“Broters!”
“Guys it’s raft, crap—“
“I’m nervous—“
A tidal wave of sound swarmed their slightly dulled senses. Words of concern, excitement, and confusion whizzed past their head, and circled them in an instant. They clenched their fists in the pockets of their lab coat, closing their eyes and breathing deep to try and control the noise once more.
Closing their eyes made them realise how much blood was seeping from their—not theirs, it isn’t their eye, they’re not all here—violet coloured eye. It was harder to tell underwater, but it had certainly accelerated, if the pounding against their skull was anything to go by.
Icarus pried their eyes open quickly, feeling their body stiffen and their lungs squeeze ever tighter. They wanted to leave—no, scratch that—they needed to leave.
They looked up to the top of the wreckage, spotting the familiar head of black hair which hadn’t moved from his previous position. They pushed themself off of the ocean floor, and moved through the water to get to their brother. They regretted it quite fast though, as their muscles tensed and their back cried out, their wound aching in retaliation for their sudden movement.
But they ignored it, opting instead for getting away from this cursed raft.
Once they’d reached the scientist, they tried to call his name and capture his attention—but something stopped them.
Water breathing acted like a bubble helmet. It created a space fit for not-gilled people to breathe almost freely under the sea. This bubble also allowed for some, albeit muffled, sound to pass through the water—but when Sherbert went to speak, they found their voice cut off by a cough.
It was silent in the depths of the crystalline liquid, but Icarus felt like they were suffocating beneath the shimmering surface. Bubbles flew out of their mouth as they coughed, which startled them even more because they should not be coughing up anything, but especially not—
Their lungs protested their harsh gasps, something pulling them closer together, almost drowning them.
Drowning.
Icarus was drowning.
Well, they were coughing up water that they were sure they hadn’t swallowed, so yeah—they were somewhat drowning.
Just like Ripley.
Shit. Shit shit shit—
Before panic could overtake them fully, they grabbed onto Rae’s shoulder, using their other hand to hit his arm lightly (or, as quickly as they could underwater).
He needed to pay attention right now, or Icarus could fucking die.
Their body shivered with that realisation.
Luckily, he turned to face them rather quickly, face shifting between confusion to worry to fear in a matter of seconds. The alchemist wanted to speak to him, to reach out, to tell him what was happening—but the moment they tried to form any sort of word, more water was pushing, shoving, clawing its way out of their throat.
Rae’s eyes widened impossibly.
“Icarus?” He called to them, bringing his arms up to their shoulders, shaking them slightly (if he meant to or not). They shook their head the best that they could, and slapped their hands against their throat.
The would-be-avian tried to force out another pathetic attempt at a word once more, but was only met with bubbles shooting from their mouth.
“Fuck—“ Rae rasped, panic clear despite the air-helmet containing most of his features. “Okay—okay, this is fine, you’re going to be fine, just—“ The scientist rambled, not finishing his thought and instead reaching blindly into Icarus’ cross-body strap.
Before they could push him away, question his actions, and reiterate that they were about to suffocate—he resurfaced, in a sense, with a bright magenta vial.
The respiration draft.
Icarus stared at it for a beat, but when they made to reach out for it—
—they lost control of their hands.
Their eyes glazed over.
And they were no longer in the ocean.
The compass whirred in every direction, the force of the biggest wave yet sending its true north cock-eyed. They watched as the water splashed onto the already soaked deck with a harsh slap, and pushed another barrel or two overboard.
“Shit—“ They muttered to themself, barely hearing their own voice above the fury of the sea. Their eyes darted around, searching just below the highest level they were currently on, looking for their captain almost feverishly.
Eventually, they spotted the distinct hat rushing back to their end of the ship.
“Captain Aelin!” They called out to them, praying they could be heard over the waves. When they looked up to them with wide, nervous eyes, they continued. “I can’t tell where we’re going—what do you need me to do?”
The captain glanced back to the horizon filled with nothing but an angry tide. Ripley’s legs threatened to give out beneath them as they waited for instructions desperately.
“Go help Jefferson below.” Aelin bellowed up to them, their gaze remaining fixed on the sea ahead.
“Captain?”
“There’s nothing more you can do up there!” They yelled, a bit more firm in their decision. “The sea is being a wicked bitch today—so go help Jefferson to make sure we can make it out of her tantrum alive!”
They nodded, even though Aelin wasn’t looking at them, and dashed down to the underbelly of the ship.
Pipes lined the walls, creaking with the responsibility forced upon them. On any other day, Ripley would’ve traced the intricate paths and routes the copper tubes went along with their eyes—but today was not any other day.
Today they ran full speed into the chaos below, eyes flitting around for a certain engineer.
“Jefferson?” They yelled out, praying to whatever god would listen that he wasn’t dead. “Jefferson—you in here?”
“Yeah-yeah—“ a familiar voice replied, maintaining a tone of sarcasm despite the terrifying situation. “Back here, Rip.”
“Aelin told me to come help you down here.” They replayed the captain's words in their mind, as they walked towards the sound of the engineer's voice.
They noted how sombre they had sounded, even as they barked orders at them. Like something Ripley couldn’t see had clicked only for Aelin.
“I don’t know how much help you’ll be at this point—“ Jefferson said to them as he came into view, crouching under a particularly low hanging pipe. “Bolts are popping loose left and right, the pressure is completely blown, and—“
“Okay.” They snapped a little harshly, cutting him off. “Just tell me what I can do.”
He glanced up at them from behind the copper tube, quirking an eyebrow at their interruption. “You can start by letting me finish speaking, asshole.”
They sighed, “Sorry, sorry-“ raising their hands in mock surrender. “I’m just a bit tense, with good reason I might add.”
He tilted his head for a moment, like a silent agreement, before he pushed himself out from underneath the pipe. “Would you mind..?”
They reached out a damp hand and hoisted Jefferson up without a word. He nodded. “Good. Now, help me with the—“
Jefferson was cut off once more, but not by Ripley this time. Instead, it was the sound of wood cracking, splitting, splintering slightly further away from the pair.
A couple planks gave way, and a steady funnel of water started flooding into the lower deck.
“Fuck.” They said in unison.
Jefferson reached behind him and grabbed a large piece of old plywood he had lying around—for what purpose, Ripley didn’t know—and sprinted down towards the tear in the boat, the navigator not far behind.
“This isn’t gonna cut it.” The engineer said, comparing the size of the plywood to the size of the hole. “It’s too fucking small.”
“Okay, well then we’ll—“
“What? Then we’ll fucking what?”
“We’ll do something! I don’t know!” Ripley shouted back, gesturing around wildly, panic setting in around their bones.
“What can we do, Rip? We can’t fix something this big with what we have—we’re fucked.”
“Don’t—“ They raised a shaking hand to him. “Don’t say that.” Ripley swallowed thickly, heartbeat roaring in their ears.
Water was already lapping their ankles as they started running back to where they knew Jefferson’s supplies were. He was following close behind. “Face it, Rip. We’re done for.”
“No—no we aren’t.” They rummaged through tool kit after tool kit, looking for something, anything, that could fix this impossible predicament. “We just—we just have to find something to patch the hole, right? That’s it—that’s easy shit. We’ve fixed way worse with less!”
“Ripley—“
“I just need to find that thing you used last time. What did you call it again?”
“Rip—“
“I know you have it in here somewhere, asshole! Could you just help me find it so we can fix this fucking—“
“Ripley!”
The navigator whirled around, panting heavily. Jefferson was staring at them with what they could only assume was pity in his eyes. “Oh—Don’t fucking look at me like that.”
The engineer walked forward, splashing the water, which was now up to their knees, as he did so. He reached a hand up to their cheek, and pulled away with something wet on his fingers.
A tear.
“We’re not making it out of this one, Rip.” He spoke sadly, giving them a small, half smile to show some form of sympathy. “This is it.”
“No—no—“ They shoved past him, shaking their head repeatedly. “No it isn’t, okay? We’re gonna be fine, Jefferson. The storm is gonna pass, and we’re all gonna be fine.”
“Ripley. You know that isn’t—“
“No!” They spun around to face him, gasping as the water had risen to their chest within seconds. “Whatever the fuck you’re going to say, save it! We’re not dying here, alright? No! We can fix this—we always—“
“Not this time.” Jefferson moved closer to them. “We flew too close to the sun, or whatever the fuck that story you tell all the time says.”
“We aren’t fucking Icarus!” Ripley snapped back, slamming their hands into the water, splashing it around them. “We can think of something, we can—“
“Remember when we first installed the navigation system?”
“What?”
“You had no clue how to use the thing. Every time you’d turn it on to check cords, we’d be going the wrong way—every fucking time.”
“How is this fucking relavent, Jefferson?”
“I had to talk you down from throwing yourself overboard.” He laughed, clearly fond of the memory. “We planted a bunch of flowers that day, just to calm you down.”
Ripley felt their chest tighten. “They’re gone. Storm sent them flying over easily.”
“I figured as much.” He made to shrug his shoulders, but his movements were strained with how close they were getting to the ceiling now.
The water was pushing them upwards, and they only had so much air left.
“What—did you want the fucking plants to save us?” Ripley came back to themself, a mix of anger, panic, and overwhelming fear pulling them back to their mission. “Just shut up for a second! I need you to use that thick skull of yours to think of a way out of this mess, alright?”
“There is no out of this, Rip.”
“Yes, there is! We just have to—“
His arms were wrapping around them, trying to pull them into a hug. “—The fuck are you doing? Jefferson, let go of me!”
He wouldn’t.
“Mother-fucker! Jefferson I swear to whatever god will listen that if you don’t let me go—“ They started pounding against his chest, straining to push him away. He was only a bit taller than them, but he would always be stronger.
“Jefferson, please—“ Ripley begged, finally feeling the hot tears roll down their cheeks as they gasped breathlessly. “Please, let me go! I can fix this—I-I can—“
Their words were muffled by the engineer's shirt. The fight drained out of them, their punches to his chest falling limp, as he pulled them in and completed the hug properly.
They wailed into him, terrified and helpless.
“We’re gonna be okay, Ripley.” He hushed them, rubbing circles into their back. “It’s gonna be okay.”
“I’m so scared, Jefferson.”
“I know, Rip. Me too.”
“I—I don’t want to die.” They cried.
“We’re not going to.”
“We’re not?”
“Nope. We’re gonna fix this whole thing. We’re gonna get out of the storm really soon.”
Ripley sniffed. “Can—can we get some flowers again?”
They allowed themself to think of the future they would have after this. (They knew deep down that they would never get there, but they were too distraught to care).
“Of course. All the colours you could possibly think of.”
“When we dock, I want to find my brother. We can show him our garden.”
“That sounds nice. I’d like to meet him.”
“I think you’d like him.”
They let the sound of crashing waves fill the silence for a moment.
“You’re my best friend, you know that right?”
“No. I didn’t.”
“Sorry I didn’t say it more.”
“It’s alright, Ripley. You’re my best friend too.”
“Really?”
The engineer hummed lightly, his voice suddenly overwhelmed with emotion.
They took a deep, shaky breath. “I don’t want to die.”
Jefferson squeezed them closer. “It’ll be quick.”
“You promise?”
“I promise, Rip.” He was crying now, too.
The water was so close to consuming them, only a couple seconds away from reaching their mouths.
“Find me somewhere else, okay? In some other place, some other time, find me again. I’m gonna want my best friend back.”
“I will.”
“Promise me.”
“Again?”
“Just fucking do it, asshole.”
The pair laughed lightly, and the last words they both heard were;
“I promise.”
The water reached the top of their heads seconds later.
Ripley could only hope that Aelin would live on for them.
(But they also knew that they were far too loyal to the sea to do that.)
The world faded to black soon after that, their vision shifting out of focus, then—
Icarus vomited up enough water to fill another ocean.
They were blinking back tears as reality shifted back into focus. They were on land, right next to the sunken raft they’d been on moments before.
And not just swimming around it, properly inside the belly of the beast.
Inside, and dying.
Emotions were still running high, as they gasped and panted, begging their lungs to consume more and more air. The alchemist (that’s what they were here, right?) was struggling to breathe, as every pathetic attempt at it was met with an agonised cry, sounding like a wounded animal.
“Icarus!? Icarus, talk to me!” A voice, familiar and comforting, called to them. Rae was here, their brother, their friend, was at their side. “Come back to me—I’m right here, Icarus!”
They couldn’t form words, every memory hot and fresh in their mind. They’d just died. They’d died with a man they could only guess to be their version of Centross.
(And that mother-fucker had lied. It wasn’t quick like he’d promised, no—it was painful, and blindingly so. It was only when the world faded and their head felt like it was exploding from the pressure, that they’d felt the smallest, briefest sense of relief).
Icarus didn’t know how long they’d been stuck in the memory, but it felt like another life. They had memories of a brother, one nearly identical to Rae. Of a crew they’d loved like a family. Of a home being on the crashing waves.
And they’d been ripped out of it. Ripley’s life had been stripped from them mercilessly. They’d gone kicking and screaming, but they’d gone nonetheless.
Icarus mustered up enough strength to grab at Rae, and pull him in close. It was a shitty excuse for a hug, but hey, they’d just died—they needed some comfort.
“You—“ Rae spoke quickly into their wet hair. “You scared me. You were just—it was like you’d left your body—you were just gone.”
They squeezed the back of the scientist's jacket. He took this as the sign that they could hear him.
“You wouldn’t drink the draft either, so I just pulled you out of the water. You—“ He cut himself off, overwhelmed by anxiety. “You wouldn’t breathe. All that was coming up was water, and every time you looked like you were about to talk, more water came up.” Rae sounded like he was on the verge of tears.
“Q-Quixis—“ they coughed, suddenly in desperate need of warmth. (Ripley was so cold. So fucking cold.) “They b-brought the ship—“
Rae couldn’t hold back his scoff. “Can you even call it that?”
“It’s a ship.” They answered, a little more aggressively than they had intended. “They brought it h-here. It’s f-from somewhere else.”
“Shit.” He muttered to himself, absentmindedly rubbing circles into their back.
(Just like Jefferson—)
“Rae..?” They rasped, pulling back from the sloppy hug slightly.
“Hm?”
“I need to see Centross.”
Rae was holding them up as they knocked on the large spruce door.
It had taken far too much energy to get to Centross’ home in the first place because, as it turns out, drowning makes you pretty weak.
There was a beat of silence where even the earth didn’t dare move. Everything waited with baited breath for—
“Hi?”
“Centross,” Rae started, concern still present in his tone. “Icarus needed to see you.”
“Uh, okay—why? More importantly—Ic, why are you soaking—“
They gave him a mental apology for cutting him off (once again), and practically fell into him, struggling to separate themself from Rae’s grasp.
“What the—“ Centross stuttered, clumsily picking up the alchemist and holding them upright.
Icarus wrapped their arms around the man's neck. “Sorry.” They were crying again.
“Yeah?” He laughed lightly, still caught off-guard. “For what?”
“Making it so hard for you to find me.”
He didn’t give them a snarky reply like they had expected, which they couldn’t stop their heart from speeding up at. They focused on the fact that he was real, and here, and alive.
“It’s been a bit of a day.” They heard Rae say from behind them. “I don’t know exactly what they saw, but…” He took a shaky breath. “They were gone for a while, at least to me.”
“What do you mean ‘to you’?”
“I—“
“We fucking died.” Icarus wept into him, trying to pull apart which memories were from this life, or a past one, or another one all together.
Part of them immediately regretted dumping that on him. But the other, far more broken and far larger, needed someone else to have some semblance of an idea of what the experience was for them.
They didn’t want to keep it all bottled up anymore.
Rather than more confusion or potential mockery, Centross simply stiffened. “How?”
“We drowned.”
“Damn. Shitty way to die, I guess.”
“It was.”
The reaper hummed against them, not unlike the engineer had.
It was eerie, the similarities and differences between this Centross and the other—Jefferson. Both looked nearly identical, spoke the same way, with the same prickly exterior.
But, Icarus tried to think about the differences.
No matter the time, pieces of before Icarus had arrived in Ripley’s body were shifting and piercing into their mind. Jefferson wasn’t as isolated as Centross. He’d had a small, but loving family. He was made for life on the water.
Centross was quieter, yet more abrasive. But he was also more aware, more attuned to the environment he was met with day by day. He was a far better fighter.
The shards mingled and meshed in their head, blurring their vision ever-so-slightly.
“Well, we’ll just avoid the water for a while. Okay?”
“Please.”
“I promise.”
They took his word, knowing how much heavier its worth was in this world.
Later, Rae would take Centross to the sunken raft and recite the events of the hour or so they had been out there. He would not see the things Icarus saw, but would feel a sense of understanding dawn on him as the day turned anew.
Later, Icarus would lie awake, thinking of Ripley’s life, and the best friend they didn’t really have here.
They’d been through different traumas, different choices made, but had ended up the same person—(more or less).
Centross and Icarus had different baggage than Jefferson and Ripley. Here, they weren’t best friends through thick and thin. Here, they’d been friends, then bitter rivals, to sworn enemies, then to…whatever they were now.
Jefferson and Ripley were not them.
But the comparisons would linger, and the similarities would shine brighter against the amalgamation of a life Icarus had peeked into yet knew all too well.
Later, Quixis would struggle, wondering if bringing Raft into Icarus’ (No, Creation’s) realm was such a good idea.