Chapter Text
They had no voice coming from a person, just noises that would appear in the dead of night. Sometimes they would be of agony and pain, sometimes they were sobbing sounds. While most people would blame animals or the howling wind, Thomas was starting to think that wasn't the case.
Screams.
That was what they were.
And he just couldn't get them out of his head.
They followed him everywhere, in every waking moment and in his dreams. An amalgamation of noise and sleepless nights, coming together to torment him.
He lost count of how many times Rotation had to drag him back to bed, or how many concerned stares he got from Gotoga. No one else ever heard it, stupidly enough all he could come up with was that he was being haunted.
Guilty conscience, some called it.
Hah, if only they knew what he had done.
Thomas slowly breathed in the freezing night air, the faint scent of gunpowder still lingered but anything was better than the damp rooms of the bunker. A walk usually did him some good when the memories grew too much to handle, something that had been happening more often ever since the war happened. His thoughts continued to stray despite his best efforts, sometimes a topic would front and then quickly replaced with something else.
But it all circled back to the same person, Fluixon.
The raven-haired man had been missing for a month now, disappearing without a trace the day after war was declared. The day after Saparata was...
...
Whatever, thinking about it wouldn't bring him back.
Thomas sighed into the sky, just about to head back and try catching up on sleep he desperately needed.
And then, he saw it.
A hazy figure in the corner of his eye shifting every so slightly, completely draped in white with specks of blood red. It was something straight out of a cliché horror story—an unsuspecting person walking in the middle of the night, only for a monster to come out of the shadows when they have their back turned. A carefully crafted narrative that he was about to walk into and hopefully wake up from.
There was a moment or two where he froze in place, trying to figure out if it had moved or if he had truly imagined it. But it just stayed in place, seemingly content with scaring the ever loving shit out of him.
A single finger with a deathlike pallor pointed at him in accusation.
"...Tho...mas." The two syllables echoed between them, somehow making the air feel chillier.
With startling clarity, he realized that the soft whisper had a voice he knew well. Before another word could slip, Thomas turned and ran as fast as he could. He didn't look back, afraid that if he did he would see the figure following him.
Maybe it had been nothing at all.
The rush of adrenaline was a dreadful moment of clarity, waking him up faster than any drug could. Every breath was a stinging sensation in his lungs, harsher than any blade. After what felt like ages, he stopped near a building, leaning on it to alleviate the pins and needles in his arms and legs.
What was that?
Saparata was supposed to be dead, the man had been executed in front of his very eyes.
His death, it was supposed to fix everything.
So why?
Without warning, tears had started to collect in his eyes. He rubbed the heel of his palm into them, hoping the sting would drag his mind away from the past. A deep part of him wanted to curse his naive self—for betraying Saparata, for believing he could prevent the inevitable.
And now, for not being strong enough to stop Fluixon from running away.
"There, there. What are you crying for?" A soft touch on the hand still cradling his face startled him, followed by a cooing noise. It was cold and formless against his skin, as if the thing holding onto him was the wind itself.
He didn't dare look up, doesn't think he could face those eyes again.
"Saps, please..." He wasn't even sure what he was asking for anymore. For it to stop? To comfort him? To forgive him?
No, he deserved to be broken just as they had done to him.
The presence slowly grew fainter and only then did Thomas move his hands away from his face. A pair of eyes stared back at him, familiar black pupils with bloody sclera. It was horrifying but he couldn't will himself to look away, away from the red lines that cut through recognizable features.
Those eyes slowly closed once again, just like they did before the final blow took his life.
Thomas' breath hitched, but the spectre was already gone in the blink of an eye. The rhythm of his heart continued to beat against his ribs, pulsing rapidly and so very alive. A few beats passed and then he finally, finally snapped.
"...I'm sorry."
Despite knowing that no one was there to hear him, the unbidden apology came out anyway. Maybe the wind would carry it somewhere, far away where it would reach the two people he ached to see the most. But that was just a dream, just like how theirs was so easily stripped away from them.
There was no one to blame but himself.
A laugh tore itself from his throat, bitter and broken. Obviously, this was what he deserved for everything that he did. After he had dampened the sobs that threatened to overwhelm him, he forced himself to walk back, one agonizing step at a time.
And if Rotation had made fun of his pale face after he was in the secret base, he just laughed along with it.
After their last meeting, he never had any troubles sleeping, mostly because the screams were gone. He wasn't sure if Saparata had anything to do with that, or if it was simply coincidence. The only thing he knew was that the second time he encountered him, it was... strangely nice.
Thomas stopped dead in his tracks when he saw it again.
There was Saparata, silently standing on the beaches of Luminara while looking into the waves. It was day this time, somewhat precarious due to the chances of a battle happening at any time. But despite that, he looked peaceful, watching over the ocean that was the expanse between the two islands. Despite being taller than Thomas, he looked small like this—alone and pitiful.
It took all of his willpower not to run away, and even more to start going towards him. Because whether he liked it or not, this wasn't something he could fix by ignoring it.
The white-haired man turned slightly when he drew closer, eyes squinted closed.
"Hey, I was waiting for you." The strange quality of his voice was still unsettling to Thomas, sounding as if Saparata was whispering right in his ear. He wasn't sure what to make of it, or this whole situation.
A sigh escaped him, "..Why are you here?"
"Am I not allowed to be here?" It was clearly a joke but the tone was all wrong, "You're so mean."
"You are, but– Fine, okay then, why did you disappear before?" Responding or answering felt like a loss, so Thomas tried something else. Recalling the other man's greeting, he added, "And how did you know I was going to be here?"
Slowly, Thomas watched as he walked towards him, his footsteps leaving no indents in the sand. A light touch landed on the brunette's hand, the same way they did when he found him the last time. He fought to not flinch away from the contact, still as cold and misty as last time.
He still can't believe that this was real.
Saparata went closer still, "You were scared of me, weren't you? I didn't want you to be scared."
Instead of the sight that was seared into his mind, Thomas was met with closed eyes and a coy smile. He realized that it wasn't quite as unnerving as before without the eye contact.
"And my other question..?" He fell back, pulling away the hand that was still being touched.
Saparata tilted his head, "What?"
He was the perfect picture of innocent confusion, nothing like the horrifying delusions he had expected. This was Saparata, definitely, but something was off...
"You said you were waiting for me, so that means you knew that I was coming?"
"Well, you are kind of... predictable." His head dropped down to look faintly in the direction of the sand below them, it would look shy if not for how deliberate it was. "I just wanted to talk, promise!"
"Why? For what reason...?"
"I missed..." A pause that lasted far longer than it should have, "Talking to people."
"And you decided I was the best to talk to?" Thomas wanted to laugh again, except this time with a more mocking edge. There was something behind all of this and he was going to figure it out or die trying. "C'mon, Saps there has to be another reason."
Why else would he torment him like this?
Even if he longed to be with him again, hold the ones he still has close to him.
"What if I said..." Saparata laced his fingers together, looking back up at him. "...that I wanted to be friends again?"
Why?
Why do you have to be so cruel to me?
"We both know that isn't true." The words came out faster than he could stop them, tumbling out gracelessly from his mouth. "I'm sorry, Saps. But I just can't."
Saparata stilled dangerously for one second, before the tension between them lost all edge.
"You're right, that's not the reason." The ghost smiled and then turned away, leaving Thomas standing alone. "Well, it doesn't matter."
Thomas did not follow when the other man started to walk in the opposite direction, but to say that he didn't have the urge to, would be a lie. There were still so many questions that haven't been asked, things he wasn't sure Saparata had an answer to or not. Guilt and apprehension made its home in his heart, familiar in the way it twisted him into something unrecognizable. There was no room for Saparata there, not anymore.
A fraud.
And because he had always been selfish, he couldn't let go either. A beat of hesitation passed by him, until he finally got the courage to speak. "Will I see you again?"
"...Maybe."
Behind his back, Saparata waved a goodbye.
Thomas watched his retreating form until it disappeared from his view.
"Thomas, what are you looking at?" Snowbird tentatively started, voice coming from somewhere behind him. "You've been weird recently."
"Nothing." Of course, he would be the one to notice.
He sighed, looking away. "Take care of yourself, okay? We don't want you to end up like Flux–"
"Don't– go there."
...
He knew that looking for Saparata was a bad idea, only crazy people chased after ghosts.
And yet, where is he now?
On the steps climbing up to Saparata's vacation house, sat a now-familiar figure. The spectre held his gaze at something on the ground before settling on Thomas, eyes still uncovered. A slow blink—once, twice, as if he was just seeing him for the first time. And carefully, obsidian eyes averted their gaze back at the ground while pretending not to notice him.
"Saps." He greeted, stepping up to meet him.
"...And here I thought you didn't want to talk with me?" His legs pulled to be nearly against his own chest, giving room for Thomas to sit next to him if he so wished. He did not accept the invitation, turning to the water below and away from Saparata.
"It's–" He scoffed, unable to convince himself to lie anymore. "I want to stop running away."
A strange noise made him look downwards suddenly, so fast his head threatened to spin. The source of the noise quickly revealed itself as a beached up fish, one that was in the direction Saparata was staring at earlier. It flopped against the ground uselessly, unable to get back to the water.
Without much thinking, he slid down to help the animal back to the shore.
When it finally swam away, only then did he turn back to the stairs.
"What are you doing?" Saparata hummed, staring at him with glazed over eyes, as if he was looking through him instead of at him. "It's going to die anyway."
And Thomas...
Wasn't sure how to respond to that.
He always knew the mediator as someone who cared, sometimes too much. It was one of his biggest weaknesses and part of why he had trusted The Conspiracy so much. This was not just indifference, this was detachment.
Their eyes met again, "What?"
"Y'know, it's going to die. So, there's no need to make it suffer any longer." The ghost tilted his head curiously, "Living is cruel, Thomas."
"What?" Thomas repeated, a little lost for words. "Can you stop–"
The other laughed at him, "It's just a fish."
Something was wrong.
"Saps, just tell me what the hell is going on!" He regretted saying anything at all when it was too late to take it back.
In an instant, Saparata was in front of him, presence a sudden weight in his vicinity. He looked around before snapping to Thomas suddenly, as if he wasn't quite as aware as he made it seem. Briefly, he considered pushing him away but then Saparata moved, circling him.
"Fine, you want to know?" Before he could even come up with a response, Saparata answered him. "Of course you do."
Thomas stood still, careful to keep the other in view.
"Why do you think I'm still here? Why do you think you're the only one who can see me?" His voice grew in volume steadily, "It's because you killed me."
Just the slightest bit of hurt had leaked into his voice, making Thomas inhale sharply. He lingered behind him, goosebumps raising whenever the icy air around the spectre brushed against his skin. Any and all apologies paled in comparison to the pain he has caused, so what was he supposed to do?
"So you want revenge." Thomas had been expecting the verdict but with Saparata coming back into view, it felt a little more tangible. "...Just kill me then, there's nobody to stop you."
"Oh no, that was my plan." He met his gaze again, "Was."
They stayed silent for one passing moment as the words sunk in. Thomas' chest tightened with guilt, in time with the taunting smile that spread across the other man's face. Saparata giggled—childlike and full of glee but Thomas only felt fear, shivering when there was a hold on his wrist, tugging him closer.
"Don't get me wrong, this is still a punishment for you." His eyes grew dark with the intense mix of emotions going through them, "But I found something else I wanted."
"Saps..." He jolted at his own shaky voice, "I..."
Saparata spat out the next words, face contorted in fury. "Don't think for a second that I've forgotten what you did to me."
And then, silence.
A sob broke the stillness over them, and it took Thomas a couple of moments to confirm that it wasn't from him. Saparata lowered his head, hands clawing at the other man for anything to hold onto. He ended hunched over, nails scratching against the front of his jacket. "I'm just so.. tired... So tired. I just can't force myself to hate you."
Was this... really how he had felt?
Was this really what was inside when he was stripped bare of his defenses?
Slowly, ever so slowly, Thomas wrapped his arms around him. "I'm sorry, I know that doesn't fix anything but I'm sorry."
He fought the urge to flinch away when cold skin met with his, pressing as if they were trying to meld together. There was nothing normal about this, they never did anything like this even before everything happened. He had never been able to do anything for Saparata, but he can do this one thing.
"Were we ever really friends, Thomas?"
"...I thought we were."
The two stayed like that until it felt as if it had been hours, and the sun was nearing the edge of the horizon. Thomas was sure that at this point, the rest of The Conspiracy would be looking for him after he had disappeared so suddenly.
So, he had to go.
But at least, he knew that this time wouldn't be the last he saw of Saparata.