Work Text:
“Blue? Blue, don’t—don’t look!”
Green lied very still on the warm tunnel floor. Red was curled over him, trying to cover his gouged face, his open mouth, his unseeing eyes. The air became viscous.
Vio pulled himself sorely up Blue’s arm and blocked his view, holding his shoulders and speaking calmly.
“Blue, look at me. Look at me. It’s going to be okay.”
Green’s head lay crookedly, blood pooling and soaking into his fair hair. His sword sat forgotten just outside of his reach. The ragged remains of six golden deku-babas dangled from the ceiling, and the electric ampilus shells were so tightly packed that they nearly enclosed the exit to the desert outside.
Vio twitched as residual electricity shuddered through his body: “B-Blue, please. Stay with us.”
The anger was cold. It was frigid. It rose from a hole in Blue’s heart, his limbs falling numb. Vio began to shiver, and his breath became visible. Ice began to form at their feet, crystals seeping out of the stone itself to spread its lacework across the tunnel.
“Blue, please. Please!”
Red’s tear-filled eyes bored into his very soul—their soul. Blue’s gritted teeth cracked, and the air fell sharp and deadly.
*
“Smith… Smith! Hey, Smith! Wake up, buddy, come on!”
Four’s head ached, his body full and heavy. He groaned and cracked open his eyelids just a little. Wild leaned over him, shivering and frostbitten.
“Hey! Hey, there you are! Are you okay? How do you feel?”
Four stared at him, blinking slowly. He moved his lips, but no words came out.
I’m dead. I saw my body. I’m dead. Why are you here?
He had watched from outside as the deku-baba bit down on his own head—he remembered the feel of its hot, slimy mouth on his face, its teeth ripping into his skin. He had killed the bastard plant and caught his own body falling away. He had stared at himself—he had tried to keep himself from seeing—he had begged himself to look away.
“Wha’ ‘ppen…d?” Four managed to croak, and the sound of his own voice sent shockwaves through his heart. He was dead—he had watched himself die—he had died. His head ached.
Wild huffed in relief, breathing as if his chest was caving in. The unscarred side of his face gave a small, hopeful smile: “We… we made it, that’s what happened. We made it back to the mine alive.”
Four had held his own face in his hands and watched the light leave his eyes—he’d held his own face in his hands and watched a strange light kindle in his eyes. He was warm—he was cold.
Wild laid a blanket over him and tucked it under his body on the sides: “Don’t worry about anything, okay? We’re just gonna stay right here.”
Four tried to move his left arm, but his right responded. He had just been moving his left arm, hadn’t he? He felt it in the muscles. He had clutched his sword—he had dropped his sword. He had screamed—he had shut his ears to his screaming—he couldn’t hear anything. He had launched himself at the walls, trying to break them with his bare fists, wanting nothing more than to destroy, destroy, destroy everything—he had been frozen in place, unable to move, clutching his own body.
Wild wrapped his arms around himself and sat back, rocking a bit: “The others have to come back this way. It’ll be okay. You just rest. There’s nothing to worry about.”
Wild… Four had seen the way he’d stared at him, mortified, those big baby eyes wide with terror. He’d felt the sting of the sword he’d made for him—the ice had been his body, yet not his body—he’d watched helplessly as the ice swallowed him up, and Wild, swing-by-swing, carved him back out. He felt the tired remnants of bloodthirst in his belly. He felt the inward-folding grief filling the hole in his heart. And gods, his head ached.
“How’m I here?” Four slurred.
Wild’s eyes welled-up, though he tried to hide it: “We ran here, remember? We got shocked a few times on the way?”
“I died.”
“No, you didn’t. You’re right here.”
“I saw it.”
“Yeah, well… you didn’t.”
Wild had clawed him out of his icy body, he had held him close, he had been warm. Four had come untethered, unraveled, unpersoned, but Wild knew that feeling, didn’t he? He had held him close, and he had been warm, and the walls around them were filled with cracks and scuffs and streaks of blood.
Four’s eyes began to boil and spill over.
“Wild.”
“Hm?”
“Did I hurt you?”
Wild shook his head adamantly, then turned to look at him and shake it some more: “No.”
“Wild—”
“I thought you were right behind me, I swear… I swear, I heard you right behind me.”
Wild was faster than him, even through quicksand. Wild was more nimble than him, even scarred and lanky. Four was small—he’d fallen behind so easily.
“I was right behind you.”
I was close behind you—I was far behind you. I was half-crushed—I only got shocked once—I got my head bitten off.
Four’s fingers twitched, and his muddled colors washed against the inside of his pierced and unpierced skull like a thrashing sea. Too many thoughts, too many feelings, too much for his body to handle. He focused on his left hand, and his right moved—he touched Wild’s leg, and his big little brother sniffled and grasped his hand.
He was dead—he wasn’t dead—but he wasn’t quite alive either.
***** ***** ***** *