Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The world breaks everyone, and afterward, some are strong at the broken places.
— Ernest Hemingway, A Farewell to Arms

 

---

The world was on fire.

Or at least, a couple of the trees around him were. It was kind of hard to tell from all the smoke and hellfire raining down upon him as he pushed himself up from the ground and tried to take in his surroundings.

Where was he? Some sort of beach, he supposed. Beautiful white sand and crystalline water. A bird circling peacefully overhead. The sound of waves slapping against the shore. The jarring, mechanical sound of the helicopter rotors still attempting to turn, the hissing sound of fuel leaking out somewhere. So much smoke. And screaming.

It took too long to realize the screaming was coming from him.

Call Sign Nomad sank to his knees in the coarse sand, as if his body had suddenly decided to give up on him. His ribs ached – he's sure something was broken. His hands shook as he reached up to pull off his helmet. Luckily it hadn’t been ripped off him when the chopper went down; that would have been pretty fucking shitty. He felt trickles of what he could only assume was blood run down his face and the back of his head. But he’d worry about that that later.

At least he was alive.

The sun beat down on him, blinding in how brilliant it was, as he looked around him, trying to find something concrete to focus on. He could feel the panic starting to settle in and claw at his throat. His legs felt like lead and every step burned with agony, but he had no choice.

Keep moving.

Nomad repeated it to himself like a prayer as he pushed forward, steadily ahead to the wreckage. There had to be something salvageable. There had to be someone left. He just had to keep moving.

It was almost beautiful in a bullshit modern art type of way. The sun gleamed perfectly off the twisted heap of metal in front of him, nothing behind it but beautiful, blue water and a bright blue sky. The contrast between the two some kind of sick irony. Nomad could almost laugh at it if he didn’t think he’d cry. At least he found his backpack, and it wasn’t even too charred. The straps were a little singed, but he could work with it. He knelt to inspect its contents, and he could only feel his heart pounding in his ears with the effort a little bit, so it was progress.

Nomad always thought that an emergency pack would have something useful in it for an emergency, but he always did have trouble with managing his expectations. A tactical axe, a lighter too small and purple to be of any use for lighting anything other than a small fire, a small notebook with some ‘wilderness survival’ tips and tricks and even more empty pages, and a GPS that was the only thing of any real help in this situation. But still, beggars can’t be choosers. He put the items back in his backpack, then hesitated a moment and pulled the axe back out, zipped up the rest and slung the backpack across his back. A shitty axe was better than no axe.

Keep moving forward.

And almost immediately he regretted it. His eyes caught what remained of the pilot, still harnessed into his seat, barely recognizable as something that was once living. His stomach churned and his heart pounded rapidly. It had been a long time since he’d seen death this close. He couldn’t breathe – he couldn’t –

Keep. Fucking. Moving.

There was a crate and another backpack that somehow survived the crash. Four emergency blankets, two bottles of what he thought were pain pills, a can of some kind of mystery meat, a bottle of water luckily, and a length of rope between the two. Better than nothing.

Okay.

Keep breathing.

Keep moving.

Another body. He feels the beginnings of tears sting at his eyes. They look like they’ve been torn apart. He doesn’t know their name; it doesn’t matter. Just keep moving. His vision is going black. Just keep moving. He can’t do this. He's going to die on this fucking island because of these stupid, fucking billionaire idiots. Oh God, this isn’t how he thought he’d die –

Suddenly, his vision locks in on a body on the ground in front of him. This one is moving. He’s writhing in what Nomad is only sure is complete and utter agony, but agony means alive. He’s running before he realizes what he’s doing.

It’s Kelvin. He never had much of an opinion on Kelvin before. He was a friendly guy with an easy smile. Nomad always secretly thought the guy was too nice for this line of work. He had the air of someone who’d never had a bad thing to say about anyone. It didn’t annoy Nomad, it just – it didn’t matter now.

“Hey man, shit, are you okay?” He gingerly lifts the man to his feet, reaching out to him as the man stumbles and almost falls on his ass. Nomad is no doctor, but he can tell Kelvin is pretty fucked up.

“Kelvin man, this is all fucked.” Nomad reaches out, almost gingerly to try and assess the damage. His hands quickly probe up Kelvins extremities, looking for anything obvious like broken bones or wounds. Legs, torso, arms seemingly okay. If there’s anything internal, well, that’s a problem they’ll deal with later. “Tell me if anything hurts.”

That was fucking stupid. Their helicopter was shot out of the god damn sky. Everything hurt.

And then he notices it. Kelvin’s not looking at him, he doesn’t seem to be looking at anything. He snaps his fingers in front of Kelvin’s face. No reaction. Shit. He doesn’t know what to do. He’s so far out of his depth here. He moves two fingers in front of Kelvin’s face, trying to gauge if the lights are on and no one’s home, or if there’s still a chance. God, let there be a chance.

“Oh, thank God.” It comes out almost like a prayer when Kelvin finally takes notice and follows Nomad’s fingers with his eyes. He moves them up and down, side to side. Okay, reaction time is a little delayed, but they did fall out of the sky, so he can work with this. “Kelvin, how are you feeling, what do you need right now?”

And then he notices it. Two thick trails of blood leaking down Kelvin’s ears.

Well fuck.

“Can you hear me, man?” Kelvin only stares at him with vacant eyes. Nomad swallowed, only just noticing how dry his throat was. “Okay.”

He starts to check Kelvin’s pockets, looking for anything that could help. With what, he wasn’t sure. At least Kelvin was following his hands as they rifled through the pockets on his pants and tactical vest. It was progress.

Okay, an energy bar, a stopwatch, and a small notebook with a pen. Then, an idea dawns on him.

// Can you understand? //

Nomad writes quickly and flicks the notebook around to show Kelvin. He squints to look at it, and for a moment Nomad’s heart drops. How badly was Kelvin injured in the crash? Does he understand what he’s looking at? A myriad of thoughts were barreling through his mind at breakneck speed, but then Kelvin nodded his head and gave Nomad a thumbs up with a shaky hand.

// Are you hurt? //

It took a few moments, but Kelvin gave a small nod, then gestured towards the back of his head and rubbed his shoulders.

Okay, whiplash. But he could work with that. It could have been a hell of a lot worse. He felt a cold chill run over him when he thought of the terrible fate that had befallen his other comrades.

// Medicine. Take and drink. //

Nomad pulls off his backpack to take out the pill bottle and water. He handed two pills to Kelvin and the bottle. Kelvin just stared at the items in his hand.

Okay, whiplash and maybe a severe concussion. Or a little brain damage.

With a sigh Nomad gently pried opened Kelvin’s mouth and put the two pills on his tongue, then brought the bottle to the man’s lips. Luckily, he seemed to remember how to drink. He let Kevin rest on the sand while he tried to figure out what their next moves would be.

They couldn’t stay here. If they did...Nomad didn’t want to think about it. Whether from exposure or from whoever shot down their plane, that didn’t matter. They were as good as dead. They had to keep moving.

He glanced over at Kelvin who was sitting contentedly in the sand, his legs splayed out and his arms behind him, propping him up. At least one of them was calm. It was another one of those moments where he would laugh if he wasn’t so afraid of crying. Being scared was nothing new for Nomad. He’d spent his whole life afraid of one thing or another. But it was a whole different feeling being afraid for someone else, too. If he didn’t figure out a plan Kelvin would die here on this shitty island, alone and afraid, and with only silence to keep him company. Nomad refused to let that happen to anyone else.

Nomad swallowed down the dread that had settled into his throat, opened his backpack again and took out the GPS he had all but forgotten about. After powering it on he almost cried, but with relief this time. He spun around, watching how the small yellow arrow moved in real time. That was him. Okay. The blue marker K was for Kelvin, obviously. His GPS must still be in his vest somewhere. He’d have to make sure Kelvin never lost that thing. And then, Nomad noticed the purple markers off in the distance. Those had to be the other members of the strike team. If it wasn’t, well, Nomad didn’t want to think about it.

He glanced again over at Kelvin who met his eyes quickly this time and gave Nomad an easy smile and a thumbs up.

It had to be them.

But at least they had a plan now.

Keep moving forward.

Chapter Text

I expect to pass through life but once. If therefore, there be any kindness I can show, or any good thing I can do to any fellow being, let me do it now, and not defer or neglect it, as I shall not pass this way again.

— William Penn

The fire was nothing but soot and memories by the time Nomad awoke. He sat up slowly, his entire body protesting. It was almost as if falling out of the sky didn’t make for a night of restful sleep. The emergency blanket clung uncomfortably wet and heavy on his shoulders. Morning dew had settled on it, mixing with the dirt to create an uncomfortable layer of grime on it. Nomad tossed the blanket aside. He’d deal with that later. He reached up to run his fingers through his matted hair, then paused when he caught sight of his hands — dirt caked under his nails and coated his fingers in an attractive layer of muck. He’d have to find a river or something to attempt to wash in.  

It was beautifully peaceful out in the wilderness if he ignored the way they ended up here. The morning light flickered through the canopy of trees above, bathing them in a soft light. He glanced over at Kelvin, watching the man making some sort of design in the dirt. His face was focused on whatever it was he was creating as his fingers moved in the dirt. The soft sunlight bounced off Kelvin’s hair, making it shine a rich mahogany with the barest hint of red. Then suddenly, as if sensing Nomad watching, Kelvin turned to look at him, giving a small smile and a thumbs up. He let out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding. Nomad had been terrified to let the other man sleep, not truly knowing the extent of his injuries other than severe head trauma and what he assumed to be ruptured ear drums. But he was okay. Alright — time to get to work.   

Nomad resisted the urge to groan as he pushed himself to stand and shuffle toward what remained of their fire. He was in agony. Every step was torture of the worst kind as his muscles fought against movement. Okay, so maybe he was a little worse off than he thought. Oh, what he’d do for a painkiller right now, but the only meds he’d managed to find in the wreckage had to be saved for Kelvin. He stumbled and jerked, just barely avoiding collapse as he crouched by the fire. He poked at it with a nearby stick and attempted to bring life back into it, but to no avail. The fire was almost as dead as he felt. He’d have to try to gather more wood, more kindling, more everything.  

He reached for their backpacks, which were fortunately close to the fire, to take inventory of their supplies. It was hard to ignore the concerned and puzzled expression Kelvin was giving him. But he did. He sighed harshly as he took stock — a dented can of energy drink, two protein bars, a few coils of rope, a few of the pain pills, and the hatchet. Not enough. Especially if it started raining again.  

“We need supplies. And actual shelter.” Nomad muttered to himself, his voice low and tired. He shook two pills from the bottle, grabbed the drink, and shuffled over to Kelvin. He glanced down at the drawing Kelvin had been making in the dirt. Concentric circles were etched into the ground with the odd triangle shape overlapping them. What the fuck is this ? Maybe just patterns to keep his hands busy while he waited for Nomad to wake up? It didn’t really matter.  

“Take.” He pushed the pills and drink to Kelvin. Kelvin just stared at him blankly. God, he didn’t have time for this. He grabbed Kelvin’s hands, placing the pills in one and the drink in the other. Another beat, then he took the drink back, popped the top, and handed it back to Kelvin. “ Take.”  

Kelvin looked down at the pills in his hand, then back to Nomad, then back at the pills. His brow was furrowed in thought, and then Kelvin suddenly looked back at him and shook his head. He took Nomad’s hand in his and placed the painkillers back in his hand. Kelvin kneeled to write something in the dirt. Damn it, Kelvin. He really didn’t feel with dealing with this right now. But then, he caught glance of what Kelvin had written in the dirt:

// You are hurt //  

Something in his chest lurched as Kelvin handed him back the energy drink and gave him a thumbs up.  

“Thank you.” But Kelvin wasn’t looking at him; he was back to drawing in the dirt. Smiley face. He was drawing smiley faces now. He crouched next to Kelvin and wrote two small words, trying his best not to disturb Kelvin’s artwork.  

//Thank you//  

Kelvin turned to him with a smile and a thumbs up. Nomad surprisingly smiled back, then took the medicine.  

Nomad awoke with a start, not remembering when or where he’d fallen asleep at. The sun was higher in the sky now. Maybe mid-morning or close to noon now. It was drizzling slightly, and the fire was burning steadily now. A crow called in the distance, shrill and solitary. The emergency blanket was draped over him. Kelvin, of course. He looked around for the man. His body still protested as he stood up, but not nearly as bad as before. His ankle must be sprained with the way it ached with every step. Panic started so sink in and claw at his throat when he didn’t see Kelvin anywhere.  

“Where are you, man?” Okay, relax. Kelvin must be somewhere; he couldn’t have wandered off too far. He hoped. Nomad almost broke the zipper to his backpack with the speed in which he unzipped it and ripped the GPS locator out of it. He signed in relief as he saw Kelvin’s blue dot off in the distance. He zipped his backpack up, gently this time, and slung the straps over his arms then made his way into the forest.  

The woods were lovely, dark and deep indeed. Nomad almost laughed to himself, unsure of why it was the only thing to come to mind for him now. But they were. The trees stretched out seemingly infinite, rich green leaves dripping from the misting rain, soft moss and fallen leaves making up the ground beneath him, the way the sunlight peaked through the canopy, highlighting the misting of rain falling. It was unbelievably gorgeous.  Another thought came to mind as he limped his way deeper into the forest and closer to Kelvin’s marker on the map. ‘Have you swept the visioned valley with the green stream streaking through it, searched the Vastness for a something you have lost?’

Finally. There was Kelvin. He moved as if he had done this many times before. The axe swung into the tree rhythmically, finally sending it toppling down with a large crash that echoed through the empty woods. Kelvin grunted slightly as he picked up two logs and carried them over to a small pile he had created. How long had he been out here? His hair was soaked and sticking to his forehead and neck, whether from sweat or from the rain Nomad was unsure. Kelvin worked steadily, no hesitation, no sense of exhaustion — he just worked. Nomad was tired just from seeing it. He limped over to Kelvin, who was crouching to pick up two more logs, and tapped him on the shoulder before he could pick up the logs. Kelvin startled and turned around rapidly, only seeming to relax once he noticed it was Nomad that had reached for him. He gave a large, easy smile.  

Nomad reached into his backpack quickly and pulled out the notepad and pen inside.  

//What is this?//  

Nomad waited patiently while Kelvin read the note, then took the notepad and wrote his own response carefully 

// Trees ↟ //  

He smiled a little, seeing Kelvin’s short response and simple drawing.  

//Why?//  

Nomad passed the note back to Kelvin and waited. Kelvin seemed to think of his response for a while, scribbling out a few sentences he’d attempted to write before finally settling on one word.  

// Home //  

That weird, lurching feeling came back into his chest again, but Nomad swallowed that down and nodded at Kelvin’s smile. “I long once more to see my home among the distant hills, to breathe amid the melody of murmuring brooks and rills.” He knew Kelvin couldn’t hear him, but from his smile he figured he understood the gist of things. And so they began the trek back.  

It was an arduous journey, going back and forth to bring the downed logs to where their new (temporary) home would be. It shocked Nomad how quickly Kelvin bounced back from being thrown from a plane. Even after pain killers, he was barely functional with his sprained ankle and what he was beginning to believe were a cracked rib or two (or three). But Kelvin worked strongly and steadily, doing most of the heavy lifting when carrying the logs and dropping them to the area Nomad had gestured towards. There was a small clearing near a running river that he thought would work beautifully. Space to build and access to fresh water. Whether or not it was fresh enough to drink, he could only hope. But it was better than nothing. Kelvin had visibly tired by now, so he forced the man to take a break. They were nowhere near done, but at least they had a foundation laid.  

//Follow me//  

He led the man to the river and Kelvin followed behind happily. God, they smelled horrible. And looked even worse. Nomad wasn’t sure how helpful the river water would be, but again, better than nothing. He tried to gesture to the man to remove his tactical vest, shirt and pants, and bathe himself, but Kelvin just didn’t seem to understand what he was asking.  

//Bathe, get clean//  

Kelvin looked at the note for a few moments, nodded, then attempted to walk into the river fully clothed. What the fuck, Kelvin? He grabbed Kelvin’s to prevent him from walking into it with a sigh. He really didn’t have it in him to play lifeguard when Kelvin would have inevitable drowned in the 15 pounds of clothes he was wearing. He pushed Kelvin down to sit by the bank of the river and kneeled to unlace and remove the man’s boots and wet socks, then pull the tactical vest off him. Kelvin looked a lot smaller without the vest on, but then again, everyone did without the vest. He gently pulled Kelvin back to his feet and pulled off the man’s thermal shirt. He hesitated for a moment, then pulled off the man’s pants, leaving him standing in nothing but his boxers. Don’t make this awkward, Nomad. Nothing weird about undressing your bro by the riverbed.  

 He showed the note again to Kelvin, and he was finally less concerned about the man drowning himself as he cleaned in the river. Nomad followed suit, stripping down to his briefs and wading into the river to wash the day's work out of his skin and hair. As hard as he tried, he couldn’t avoid looking over at Kelvin with a small smile as he watched the man relax in the water. Today had been such a long day, and Nomad couldn’t help but worry. He was almost useless today with as injured as he still was from the accident, and they were no closer to finding a way off this fucking island. He was afraid they would die here.  

But he swallowed down that thought and instead pulled himself out of the river and limped over to their clothes and brought them back to the river to clean them as best as he could. It wasn’t enough, but it would help. As he worked on hand scrubbing the clothes, he noticed Kelvin also pull himself out of the river and begin gathering scattered sticks and the dryest material he could find to make a fire. It was almost comical watching the man waddle around barefoot and in boxers attempting to make a fire. But he did. And in perfect time for Nomad to lay out their clothes to dry.  

Nomad was, as he learned quickly, horrible at fishing. He’d pretend it was because of the sprained ankle, though, if anyone asked. Not that there was anyone to ask, but still. Luckily it came almost as natural to Kelvin as breathing. He glanced over at Kelvin as they sat across from the fire, waiting for the fish to cook. The man had such a serene expression on his face that Nomad couldn’t help but wonder what he was thinking about. Kelvin was sat cross-legged with his arms resting in his lap. Every so often his head would tilt, as if he was listening to something only he could hear. Maybe a gentle roaring in his ears, or he wondered if it was a sharp ringing. Or maybe it was just silence. Never ending silence. But Kelvin smiled, and he took a small comfort in that. Whatever it was, it wasn’t unpleasant.  

The sun was finally beginning to set by the time they finished their fish and luckily their clothes were dry enough to wear. They were still a little damp and cold, but it was better than the night air biting at bare skin. He helped Kelvin dress, and it was almost uncomfortably intimate. Nomad wasn’t sure if Kelvin even needed help, judging from the awkward smile Kelvin was giving him he probably didn’t, but still, he would. It was grounding, in a way, seeing the fabric rest over his skill, the pull of the zippers, the snap of buttons. Once dressed Kelvin smiled and gave him another thumbs up, one that Nomad returned to him. Then he quickly dressed himself and they could finally rest.  

He pulled the emergency blanket out of their backpack, staking it against a nearby tree for a makeshift tent. It wasn’t nearly large enough for two fully-grown men, but it was better than one of them being fully exposed to the elements. Nothing weird about two bros sharing a tent. Luckily, Kelvin didn’t have any reservations and climbed into the tent eagerly. He must have been exhausted. Anyone would if they had done as much as Kelvin did today.  

By the time Nomad pulled himself into the makeshift tent Kelvin was already asleep. He has always wished he was the type of person that could fall asleep as soon as they were ready to. Instead, he normally laid away for hours until he was forced to sleep from pure exhaustion. But tonight, watching the rise and fall of Kelvin’s chest, feeling the warmth of his skin, almost but not quite toughing, and hearing his steady breathes almost like a lullaby, he would sleep peacefully.  

Chapter Text

Nothing is so painful to the human mind as a great and sudden change. 

Mary Shelley, Frankenstein

When Nomad woke, he could tell they were in trouble. 
 
The cold was sharp and biting, but it crept in so slowly they’d barely had a chance to notice until it was too late. Winter would be on them soon and they were no closer to finding any escape to home. Hell, they barely had shelter at this point. They desperately needed to finish the small cabin they were building, but the pace was slow with only one and a half people to work on it. His ankle was beyond fucked. He would have thought that with the days passing the swelling would go down, but that was hoping for too much. 
 
Where was Kelvin? Nomad was missing the warmth he had fallen asleep next to in the night. He tried to push himself up to stand, but between the stiffness in his joints from the cold settling into his bones, the swelling in his ankle that made moving nearly impossible, and the pain that still pranced along his ribs, he couldn’t find much of a will to force himself up. 
 
They were going to die here. Nomad wasn’t trying to be pessimistic but was more just accepting the truth of their situation. He couldn’t do anything. His body was fighting against his mind screaming at him to get the fuck up and keep moving forward. But there was no way forward from this. Whether by hunger or the cold, well, it was inevitable... What a way to go out. His only regret was that he had to drag down poor Kelvin with him. He could hear Kelvin steadily at work now. The axe slamming into the tree again and again. The crack and break of the tree giving way. The briefest beat of silence and then the groan before the crash of the tree into the ground. The sound of screams as a helicopter spiraled out of the sky. The wetness of blood dripping down his face. The smell of smoke — 
 
Stop. 
 
Push it out of your mind, soldier. 
 
Somehow, somehow, he pulled himself to stand and shoved aside the propped-up emergency blanket. One foot in front of the other. It hurts but he’s had worse. So much worse. Pain radiated up his leg. Keep moving. One foot in front of the other. Fuck the Puffton’s and anyone else who thought this shitty fucking island was a good idea. 
 
Nomad was drenched in sweat and dangerously close to toppling over by the time he reached Kelvin. The man had managed to stack an impressive number of logs to use for their cabin in a surprisingly short amount of time. Despite the cold air, sweat was glistening across his skin and sticking his shirt to the back of his neck. At some point Kelvin had forgone his vest and tactical jacket, down to just the Puffton Corp issued cotton shirt and field pants. Nomad could see the muscles of Kelvin’s back twist with every swing into the tree. He’d work himself to the grave if he didn’t slow down. 
 
“Working like a damn horse.” Nomad mumbled to himself as he limped over. It was so incredibly difficult to get Kelvin’s attention once he had focused in on something, and Nomad had found the quickest way to pull the man out of his laser focus was a quick brush of hands. He knew better than to sneak up behind any combat trained man, possibly brain damaged or not. And once Kelvin was focused no amount of hand waving was bringing that man back to earth. So squeezing his hand it was. He reached out to grasp one of the hands that was wrapped around the handle of the axe, right before he was about to start swinging into the innocent tree again. His fingers seemed to move of their own accord, tracing along the lines and calluses that were well formed on the skin. Was this all from the Puffton Corp work he had been doing? Or maybe he had been a rock climber? Or a guitarist? Maybe a gardener? Nomad hoped it wasn’t guitarist—that would have made the situation all the more tragic. 
 
Kelvin looked down at their hands with a smile, and then warm, brown eyes met his. He wasn’t sure why he dropped Kelvin’s hand so quickly. 
 
“You need to rest.” Nomad’s voice was shaky and hoarse, and no amount of clearing his throat seemed to help. He hoped he wasn’t catching a cold. On top of being in constant pain and feeling like he was teetering towards the brink of madness, he really didn’t want to deal with the annoyance of a bad case of the sniffles. He reached for the small notepad that was quickly becoming the most important thing he owned. 
 
//Rest. Let me help// 
 
Kelvin read, and he was reading much more quickly now, then shook his head. God damn it, he was stubborn as hell. Nomad circled the short sentence twice, then after a moment underlined it for effect. But Kelvin wasn’t looking, and instead his eyes were focused down on Nomad’s ankle. He couldn’t even blame the man though; it was doing pretty poorly. 
 
//I’m okay// 
 
But Kelvin had focused in on his injury. So, Nomad did something he hadn’t done before. He placed the notebook in Kelvin’s hand then cradled the man’s face, gently lifting his head until Kelvin had no choice but to look at him. “I’m okay.” 
 
He didn’t know if Kelvin could read lips, so he pointed at the paper, pointed at his mouth, and said it again. Slowly and clearly. “I’m okay.” And oh, Kelvin was touching Nomad’s mouth, his finger gently tracing his lips. “I’m okay.” His mouth moved against the tip of Kelvin’s fingers ghosting across his skin. It was too much, too close. 
 
“I’m okay.” Just a whisper this time. He couldn’t bring himself to do anything else. Only a soft whisper, like a promise. He could tell Kelvin didn’t believe him from the way his eyes danced across Nomad’s face, but he nodded anyway, gave him a thumbs up, and sat down on a stump from a downed tree to rest. 

And so, Nomad went to work. Ignoring the ache in his ankle was harder than he expected, though. Having to shift his weight constantly to compensate for his injury made him tire a hell of a lot more quickly. It was only a few minutes before he had joined Kelvin in shedding the vest and tactical jacket, working in his field pants and t-shirt, even despite the cold. It was strange though, as the sun grew higher in the sky the day seemed to get colder. It was going to be a harsh winter, indeed. Fuck, he needed a break. And water. He just realized how absolutely bone dry his mouth was.  

Nomad tried to hide his limp as he walked over to where Kelvin was resting at, but from the way the man furrowed his brows, he hadn’t been very successful. He sank down onto a nearby tree stump and Kelvin passed him the notepad and pen he had written on.  

// Your foot hurts //   

All Nomad could do was nod. It hurt like a bitch. And suddenly Kelvin stood up and walked away before Nomad could stop him. Not that he was in any position to do anything about it. It was weird watching the odd, waddling way the man walked. He wasn’t sure if it was from the head trauma, or he was dealing with some form of vertigo from his ears, or maybe he just always walked like that. Nomad never got much of a chance to work with Kelvin before this mission, so he had no baseline to compare with. There was so much he didn’t know, and he wondered if he ever would.  

Kelvin wasn’t gone for long, and came back with a bottle of water, planks of wood, what looked like a couple of their emergency tarps, and some scraps of dirty red fabric he had gathered from somewhere. Kelvin handed him the bottle and then knelt by his feet. Nomad was so thankful for the water he drank almost half of it in seconds before he remembered to slow down. Clean water was hard to come by out here. They’d have to find something they could use to boil water eventually.  

Kelvin tried to remove his shoe on his bum foot and that’s when Nomad started protesting. He didn’t need to do all of this. He would be fine. He took out the notepad and began to scratch a few words into it once Kelvin had removed his shoe and was gently prodding along his foot.  

//No, I’m okay//  

Kelvin looked at the note quickly and frowned. He shook his head and continued his prodding, either ignoring or not noticing the winces of pain Nomad was giving. Fuck, what the hell was he even doing? Did Kelvin even know? God, he hoped so.  

“I know you can’t hear me but that shit hurts, man.” Kelvin seemed to be done with his prodding though, and took the note to scribble in it quickly, then flipped it back around to Nomad.  

// This will hurt but only a little. I’m sorry ☹ // 

Well shit. Kelvin was looking at him with deep, brown eyes, seemingly waiting for Nomad’s permission to do whatever it was he was going to do. He took a breath to steel himself, then nodded. He trusted Kelvin. For some strange, unknown reason he did. Kelvin met his gaze, eyes searching his face, a moment of hesitation, then returned Nomad’s nod. Kelvin gripped his leg a little below the knee with one hand, and with the other held his foot and gently pressed it upward, slighting twisting it to the left, like he was realigning it.  

The pain wasn’t unimaginable, abject horror, but it still hurt like a bitch. Tolerable, but just barely. The one thing keeping him grounded was the caress of Kelvin’s thumb on the side of his leg as he twisted his ankle back in place. And then sudden relief. He let out a long breath he didn’t realize he was holding in, and Kevin looked up at him with a grin. Smug bastard.  

“Shit.” How the hell did Kevin know how to do this? He watched the man as he used the random assortment of trash he’d gathered expertly turn it into a makeshift splint for his ankle. Maybe Kelvin had been some form of medic for Puffton Corp? Nomad wondered what other secret depths of knowledge were hidden away inside Kelvin. Maybe with time and healing he’d get to learn more about him.  

Kelvin finished tying the last of the red cloths around his leg, then patted his knee and stood up, signaling he was finished. He was nervous for some reason now. Nervous that it wouldn’t work and he’d still be useless and in constant pain. But Kelvin was looking at him so excitedly, holding his hand out for Nomad to grasp and pull himself up to stand. He had to at least try. He grabbed Kelvin’s hand and stood. Took a couple steps. It wasn’t perfect; the splint was uncomfortable and dug into his skin, but it was perfect. He gave Kelvin a thumbs up. The smile that split across Kelvin’s face was brilliant and blinding, the kind you couldn’t help but to return in earnest. One that filled you with a warmth like returning home. And he thought of something from a book read long ago, that still sat somewhere on his shelves at home, neglected but not forgotten: ‘He stepped down, trying not to look long at her, as if she were the sun, yet he saw her, like the sun, even without looking.’ He had no choice but to look away.  

Building shelter was faster with two people, unsurprisingly. They were nowhere near anything that could be called safe and secure, but they had four walls and a roof. And that was enough for now. They could finally rest. Kelvin had wandered to the stream to catch fish for some semblance of a dinner tonight — something that would fill their bellies and help them ease their exhausted and overworked muscles into sleep. And so, Nomad sat alone by the small fire pit they had built in their new home. Home. It was still strange to think that. He wondered if keeping a live fire inside was safe, but with their walls being less walls and more gaps and barely secured planks that shifted eerily when the wind kicked up too much, he tried not to worry too much about it, and just silently prayed to whoever wasn’t listening that they wouldn’t suffocate in their sleep. A small part of him thought though that maybe it wouldn’t have been so bad of a way to go.  

He watched the fire with the sort of detached air only someone barely hanging on by a thread would we able to carry. It crackled, low and steady, slowly consuming the wood that was barely dry enough to fuel its needs. He reached a hand out to warm himself by the flames, hoping the feeling of warmth would somehow snap himself back into his body. He felt as though his mind was floating above him, watching like this was one of those shitty reality shows his ex loved so much. Fuck, why was he thinking about that right now? He sighed. He needed to pull it together.  

The fire continued to lazily roll, small black plumes of smoke curling up towards the roof, but disappearing, not quite strong enough to make it to freedom. He tossed a branch from the small pile beside him into the fire. The pop of the fire, like a gunshot, consuming the wood echoed strangely off the walls around him.  

Nomad flinched — hard and sudden.  

His breath quickened, the peppery hot taste of fear and adrenaline filled his mouth. He could feel his heart slamming against his ribs. The doors of the helo kicked open, light blinding him; all he could hear was the panic and chaos over the comms.  

His heart froze as the helo plummeted out of the sky.  

Thick, black smoke clouded his eyes — 

There was so much blood — 

everywhere.  

All he could hear over the screams was the sound of choking on his own breath. His vision swam red. 

Nomad felt something claw at him and his hands reached of their own accord for the small axe to defend himself. It wasn’t enough but it was better than nothing. He didn’t realize he was swinging towards Kelvin until it was too late.  

The axe sliced across Kelvin’s arm, cutting into bare flesh almost elbow to wrist. The armful of fish fell to the floor. A few droplets of blood, and then a river. He’d never heard Kelvin make a sound before tonight. The ring of the axe clattering to the floor echoed in the bare room.

“Fuck, no, I’m —” His entire body was trembling. He wanted desperately to move, to do anything but stand there like a fucking idiot while Kelvin looked at him with kind, brown eyes now full of fear. His muscles froze him in place, unmoving as a mountain. Silence surrounded them, thick and claustrophobic. The air was cold. “I’m sorry.” His face was wet. 

Kelvin opened his mouth as it to speak, his eyes scanned over Nomad’s face, and he cradled his injured arm to his chest. Nomad’s heart broke a little more as Kelvin’s shoulders curled inward, like he needed to protect himself. And he did, because Nomad always found a way to fuck everything up.  

He ran and Kelvin didn’t follow.  

Nomad didn’t go very far, of course. Just to the river to think. He didn’t know how long he had been standing there, but long enough for his fingers to grow stiff and numb with cold and his body to be chilled down to the bone.  He watched the water lap at the edges with what seemed to be an invitation. It would be so easy. Sometimes the kindest thing you could do for a dangerous animal was to put it out of its misery. He closed his eyes. Kelvin would be better off. Even still recovering from head trauma he was so brilliant. His mind would make up for what his ears lacked.  Nomad had no doubt Kelvin could find a way home without him. And he couldn’t keep on like this anyway. Years of this torment he’d been able to push down, only to be in a helicopter freefall from the sky that dredged everything back up to the surface.  

Kelvin was afraid of him now. And a small part of Nomad was afraid of himself. He took a breath to calm his nerves. He had hoped for, well — it didn’t matter much anymore.  

The snap of a branch, like someone stepping who was trying too hard to be quiet, broke him out of his trance. He snapped around in an instant, his eyes locking onto the figure. He saw it only briefly, but he saw. Even in the low light, he saw. A blonde woman clothed in a shimmery, reflective material, with a few too many limbs to be anything other than monstrous. Her eyes snapped up to meet his, like a deer caught in the gaze of a predator. Then she turned and ran back into the forest, right in the direction of their cabin.  

He didn’t have to tell his legs to move.  

He’d long lost sight of the woman by the time he made it to the cabin; it was almost enough to think he’d imagined her in his despair, but he had to check just to make sure. He slowly pushed aside the tarp that doubled for a door and his eyes scanned the area quickly. No strange, multi-limbed woman. Only the smell of cooked fish and Kelvin, who jumped to attention as soon as he saw Nomad. His eyes were rimmed red, as if he had been crying. He couldn’t help it, and his eyes traveled down to Kelvin’s arm, which had strips of a similar red fabric like that of his splint tied around the cut tightly. His eyes immediately fell to the floor. The axe still laid there like a reminder of what he was.   

Footsteps approached him, slowly and cautiously, then paused. A hand gently touched his, warm and calloused fingers pushing the notepad and pen into them. He didn’t want to look, but he owed Kelvin at least that much. He owed him a hell of a lot more.  

// I thought you left forever //  

“No.” Nomad didn’t have enough energy left in him to be embarrassed at how his voice broke, longing and pleading. He did the only thing he could think to do, to make sure Kelvin understood. He had to understand. He took Kelvin’s hand, bringing the man’s fingers to his mouth, just enough that his lips caressed the shape of Nomad’s words across his skin like a mark. “I’m sorry.” Kelvin brought his other hand up to press against Nomad’s neck, to feel the vibration in his throat as he pleaded into Kelvin. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”  

And Nomad broke, with violent sobs and gasps. Kelvin pulled him in, arms wrapping around him, grounding him as Nomad tucked his head into the crook of his neck, whispering apologies again and again until he had no more voice left to him. He could feel Kelvin nod and hug him tighter; he could only hope it meant ‘I forgive you’. It was almost enough to make him cry more, if it was possible. He pulled away slightly, only to softly take Kelvin’s hand, and bring the wrist of his injured hand to his lips. Nomad wanted to give him so much more, to take back everything he had done to hurt Kelvin, but he couldn’t. All he could do was kiss a promise of the future into the skin, softly and intimately in a way he hadn’t allowed himself to be in a painfully long time. Kelvin no longer looked at him with fear, but with a soft smile and something else he couldn’t quite place. He hoped it wasn’t pity. 

Nomad started to say something, but a loud rustling noise just outside their walls snapped him out of the intimate haze. He saw the questioning look on Kelvin’s face, but he had no time to explain. He ran out, pushing past the curtain door and nearly tearing it down, Kelvin only steps behind him.  

And then he saw it, but only barely. The multi-limbed woman had returned, the strange material of her jumpsuit reflective in the moonlight. Three legs and three arms. He hadn’t imagined it. And she was pointing.  

There was a man in the woods, hunched low and slinking through the dirt, but undeniably watching them. They weren’t alone here.  

He saw fear on Kelvin’s face for the second time that day.