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Getting stuck in a cave with her mortal enemy was not on 2B’s itinerary for the day.
Her plan when she woke up was simple: get dressed, eat, track him down, and take him out. She likes simple plans. Simple plans are less likely to go wrong.
She should’ve learned by now that nothing in her life is ever simple.
So now here she is—damp, cold, and standing across from someone who was supposed to have been dead by now. Everything had been going so well until it hadn’t, but really, how was she supposed to know there was a hidden cave covered by vegetation in the exact spot she’d tackled him to the ground? What kind of cave starts with a fifteen-foot drop anyway? Certainly not a normal one.
She takes a breath to try and steady herself. It isn’t like her to let her mind wander like this. She can curse her situation all she wants, but it isn’t going to help anything. She closes her eyes, for once grateful for the uniform-mandated visor that hides them from view—her companion may not have made a move yet, but he could just be waiting for an opportunity to strike. Y’know, an opportunity like her closing her eyes.
What he can’t see, he can’t use against her.
Of course, it goes both ways, because for some reason he’s also wearing a YoRHa visor despite having no connections to the church. He probably killed one of her colleagues and stole it off of them. Disgusting—what else would she expect from a vampire. She wants nothing more than to rip it off his dead body, but he is, again, unfortunately still alive, and even she can see that fighting in this situation would be detrimental to both of them.
Doesn’t stop her from imagining it though.
“Well, this certainly isn’t ideal.”
Internally, she jumps at the sound of his voice. Externally, she shows no sign that she’s even heard him. She has nothing to say to a vampire stating the obvious.
He’s staring at the wall in front of them, fifteen feet and practically sheer. He sighs, apparently deeming it unclimbable even with his advanced physical capabilities. As skinny as he appears, she knows that a healthy vampire is almost always stronger than a human, at least in base strength. Though of course, that usually leads to a swelled ego that allows for an easy dispatch by her blessed sword.
Not this one though. He’s always been infuriatingly aware of his abilities—and hers.
After a moment more of sizing up the wall, he turns to her, and her hand habitually falls to her sword. Though she can’t see his eyes, she knows the movement hadn’t escaped him, especially as he says, “We both know fighting here would be stupid. Extended combat in such a limited space could lead to structural collapse, and then we’d really be screwed. The best option is to call a truce and see if we can find another way out.”
She says nothing. She knows he’s right, and she hates him for it.
He takes her silence as the reluctant agreement that it is, saying, “Great. Let’s get going, I guess.” That’s another thing she can’t stand about him—he’s always able to read her in a way only one person no one else can. Every time they fight, he knows just what to say to rile her up, to distract her, to make her hesitate.
It is endlessly frustrating.
No one alive can understand her like that. She’d had her emotions locked away for years, and not once had they resurfaced. Not when she was taken in by the church, not when she killed her first vampire, and definitely not when she was fighting a stupid white-haired idiot in a YoRHa visor.
He’s already walking ahead.
She refuses to jog to catch up, so she sets off at a brisk walk a few paces behind him. It’s just as well—she doesn’t want to walk next to him anyway. Normally, she would want to lead, but even she can concede that his eyes are better suited to the dark, and she would much rather he be the one to trip on any obstacles on the uneven path instead of her.
(At least it would be funny. She could use funny right now.)
Unfortunately, he continues to navigate the rocky terrain with a grace that she begrudgingly envies, even as they draw further and further from the sun’s glow. She wishes she could say she was fine herself, but after the third time she trips over a shadowed rock she has to admit that her abilities have become somewhat... compromised.
She’s grumbling under her breath and righting herself when the vampire stops for a moment and glances back at her. Then, “Oh, sorry. It’s gotten pretty dark, huh—we can slow down if you want.”
The politeness in his speech only grates on her nerves. “You don’t need to pamper me—I can take care of myself.”
“Oh, so you can talk!” He’s smiling now, and it only makes her anger flare further. It certainly doesn’t help that she’d broken her silence without thinking—god, what is she doing? She never loses control like this, but some combination of the accursed situation and the infernal vampire’s absurd manners has thrown her off balance.
Fuck it, then.
“Yes, I can talk. I just have nothing to say to you.”
He only laughs. “You seem to have plenty to say when we’re fighting, though. Mostly along the lines of die and rot in hell, though I’m not really sure where vampires go after death. Could be hell, or heaven, or something completely different from you humans. That is, assuming that is where you go.”
“You sure talk a lot, don’t you.”
There’s a flicker of something, so quick she almost misses it, before he’s smiling again and saying, “Not a lot of opportunity to talk to another person—gotta take advantage of it when I can.” He turns away before she can respond and starts walking again.
She follows slowly, but any thoughts she might have had are buried as she trips over yet another goddamn rock. She swears, but the vampire doesn’t turn this time. Rather, he takes a few more steps forward, almost disappearing into the darkness. (She’d never admit it, but her throat dries up at the thought of being left alone.)
She’s about to say something when he returns with something in his hand. It takes a moment to make it out, but she soon recognizes it as... a torch. He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a small lighter. It takes a few tries, but he eventually manages to catch the end of the torch, and the tunnel is filled with a warm glow.
2B practically stares as he holds it out to her with a triumphant smile and a, “A torch for you, ma’am?” She takes it without a word and looks around, glad to finally be able to see where she’d been walking. There are more plants than she’d expected, but for the most part it’s just a regular cave.
“Where did you even get this?” she asks. She doesn’t think torches usually grow on trees—or rocks.
“It was just hanging on the wall over there,” he replies, gesturing to a point further along the path. “There were definitely people here before us. I couldn’t tell you what they were doing, but it may mean there’ll be an exit if we keep going.”
She ignores the relief that floods her at the hope of an actual exit. She doesn’t know what she’d do if they were stuck there indefinitely.
If the vampire notices, he doesn’t let on, pausing for only a moment before saying, “Well, we’re all set now. We should keep going.”
2B just nods, which is apparently enough as they resume their trek through the cave—now with far less stumbling. She’s grateful for the light, though she can’t help but wonder just who had been down there before them, and why. Then there’s the matter of her strange companion, who’s been so, well, nice to her this entire time that it’s almost suspicious. You’d never have guessed by looking at them that she’d been trying to kill him only a little while earlier.
But well, even if she still can’t fully trust him, she doesn’t quite trust herself to make it through this situation alone, either. Not when every twist and turn makes it obvious that the cave system they’re trying to navigate is significantly larger than either of them had initially suspected. And so she’s stuck relying on the very pers—creature she’d sworn to kill.
All she can do is keep walking.
***
“Oh! 2B, I didn’t see you.”
The little girl looks down at him and blinks. “It’s no wonder,” she says, “with your face buried in that book.”
The boy flushes and looks back down at the book in his hands. “The teacher lent it to me. It’s all about flowers and plants and stuff.”
The girl hums, then moves to sit beside him. He accommodates easily as she scans the pages. “What’s that one?” She points to a flower on the corner of a page. One with white, teardrop petals that almost seem to be glowing, though that could just be the illustration.
“That one?” The boy looks closer. “It’s called a Lunar Tear—it’s a super rare flower that’s said to grant a wish to whoever finds it! My grandma used to say they could be found somewhere in the forest, but no one’s actually been able to find one in years. Maybe they’ve died out, or they’re just really well hidden, or—”
“You sure talk a lot, 9S.”
The boy clamps his mouth shut, a sheepish look on his face. “Sorry about that. It’s just so—so interesting, y’know?”
The girl doesn’t know, but, “You don’t need to apologize. I like hearing you talk about things.”
The boy blinks at her for a second, then smiles.
“Thank you, 2B.”
***
2B wakes slowly, blinking the sleep from her eyes and fighting the stiffness in her muscles. Leaning against a cave wall is not the most comfortable position, after all, and there’s a rock digging into her leg that she tosses away with a glare. She tries not to think about her dream—it’s nothing new, and lingering on it will only serve as a distraction she can’t afford.
The vampire is still asleep. She notes this with a huff, not particularly impressed considering he was the one who’d offered to take first watch. (Why she had trusted him in the first place, she doesn’t know. She decides to blame desperation.) He had managed to keep the fire going, though, which is a relief—she doesn’t know how she would have responded if she’d woken to pitch-black darkness, and she doesn’t particularly want to find out.
Large had turned out to be the understatement of the century when it came to describing the caves. The sheer scale coupled with the lack of a clear day-and-night cycle had thrown 2B’s inner clock all out of whack, so she hadn’t fought it when he’d suggested they stop and rest for a bit. Though of course, “rest for a bit” had somehow turned into “camp for the night,” not that either of them knew for sure if it was actually night or not. Stupid cave.
She doesn’t feel particularly rested, but it’s better than before, she guesses.
She looks over at him, and a thought passes through her mind before she can stop it.
It would be so easy to kill him right now.
After all, he’s asleep. Defenseless. He couldn’t fight back even if he wanted to, and that’s what she wanted from the start, right? To kill them all. Her hand slowly moves to her sword, but she stops. Because—because—
Because he could’ve killed her, too. Easily. He had the right.
But he didn’t.
Her hand slowly falls back to her side. Across from her, he stirs. She stiffens habitually and her breath catches, as though he could somehow see what she’d been thinking. But all he does is push himself up and look over at her. He’s still wearing the visor, but his lips curl up in a disarming smile that she isn’t quite sure how to take. With his observation skills, there’s no way he hadn’t noticed her reaction, and yet he doesn’t seem to have taken any offense to it. Especially as he says, “Good morning,” with an intonation that can only be described as friendly.
She defaults to bravado. “There’s no way to know if it’s morning or not.”
He tilts his head, pondering her response for a bit, then shrugs and pushes himself to his feet. “Well, you’re right about that,” he says. He takes a moment to stretch, then leans over to grab the torch off the ground where it had rolled while they slept. Once it’s lit properly, he passes it over to 2B without a word and smothers the fire, making sure it’s completely out before they move on.
(The unnaturally lush vegetation may be convenient as a food source and padding, but a wildfire inside of a cave would be disastrous—they were lucky nothing had happened while they slept.)
“Shall we?”
They walk for the most part in silence. Apparently, he’d gotten the hint that she’s not exactly into small talk after his first few attempts, so he fell to only commenting when they passed something edible for humans so they could stop to grab some. Why he knows so much about plants—or humans, for that matter—she doesn’t know, and she’s too stubborn to ask.
Every once in a while, he does blurt out some random fact about the plants or the rock composition, as though he just can’t help it. The almost childlike excitement almost reminds her of—
No. Don’t even think that. He’s gone, after all. All thanks to the creature walking in front of her.
Well, not him specifically, but her point stands—she’d sworn vengeance on all of them, after all.
Still, this tentative truce needs to last until they get out of this godforsaken cave, so if she has to put up with his incessant rambling, she will. (She’ll never admit that she kind of enjoys it.)
And so it goes, until it doesn’t.
“...it’s kinda like aloe, but it only works on vampires and is pretty much the only thing that’ll do anything for sun burns—”
“Why would I need to know how to treat a vampire?”
His speech falters for a moment and he looks back at her, slowly coming to a stop. Truthfully, the venom in her tone was more than even she intended, but she can’t take it back now, even as the slightest bit of guilt stabs her at his sudden silence. It’s times like this that she really wishes she could see his eyes, if only for a hint at what he’s thinking.
“You... really hate vampires, don’t you?”
His tone is steady, but low, and she can’t quite decipher the emotion behind it. So she reacts the only way she knows how—by doubling down.
“Isn’t that obvious?”
He laughs slightly. There’s no malice, but there’s none of the joy from earlier, either.
“Yeah, I guess it is.”
He turns back and keeps walking. She follows without a word, but internally she’s berating herself for ruining the somewhat comfortable atmosphere they’d managed to build up. She didn’t even have a reason to interject—she could’ve just let him go on his little tangent about sun-healing plants, but no. And now it feels like they’re back in those first few hours of painful silence when they’d first gotten trapped.
Despite the fire in her hands, she suddenly feels cold.
She doesn’t want to be friends with the vampire, but she doesn’t want to spend the next who-knows-how-long in almost tangible tension, either.
Which is why she’s almost glad when he cuts through it again, though a bit more hesitant than before. “Can I ask... why you hate them so much?”
He’s walking a few paces in front of her, head resolutely facing front, so he doesn’t see the way she stiffens at the question. She hesitates for a moment, debating if she really wants to get into here and now, and with an actual vampire, no less. But it only takes a moment more to recognize the lack of accusation in his voice. The genuine desire to not upset her beat out only by his natural curiosity.
It reminds her so much of him that she can barely stand it.
“It’s not really... something I like to talk about much.” That’s an understatement if she’s ever heard one—she’s never talked about it to anyone. Period.
(Though a part of her wonders—had she ever had someone to talk about it to? 6O and a few others from the church had been kind to her, but they’d never been close. She’d never let them be close.
She decides not to think about it.)
She eventually finds her voice again and continues, “It’s your basic vampire sob story, I guess. An attack took out my entire village... including someone extremely important to me. So I swore revenge. As simple as that."
“...I see.”
He doesn’t apologize or offer any pity, which is almost a relief. But at the same time—
“You don’t seem very sorry about it.”
He hums noncommittally.
“I wasn’t the one who did it, nor have I ever done anything similar. Just because the culprits were of my kind does not mean I shoulder their guilt.”
His response is simple, but to 2B it feels like a punch in the gut.
“You’re still a vampire.”
He does stop at that, turning to look at her. She wishes she could see his eyes. She’s glad she can’t.
“So you blame all vampires for the acts of some?”
“The acts of enough. They took everything from me and so many others—are you saying I’m wrong to want revenge?”
“I never said that.”
There’s a pause, and silence stretches between them like a string ready to snap. 2B is the first to break it.
“You aren’t guilt-free either. Why do you think I came to this area in the first place? Now you’re gonna tell me all those deaths were some freak accident?”
The vampire just sighs—a deep, frustrated sort of sigh—and turns to keep walking. 2B follows a few steps behind, a bit put off, until he says shortly, “Who were the reports about?”
“Excuse me?”
“The people who died. Who were they?”
2B falters. “Well... they were... people in power.”
“Did you do any research?” He glances back at her, and she bristles at the judgement in his tone.
“What does it matter? They were human, and you drained them.”
He huffs and raises a hand to massage his temple. After a moment, he lifts his head, staring directly forward as he says, “37 counts.”
“What?”
“Sir Patrick Nightale, 37 counts of sexual assault.”
“What—?"
“Madame Boscetti, beat a servant practically to death before covering it up. Rider Twintail and his gang, massacred an entire village up east while looting. Need I continue? But yes. They were all human, and I did drain all of them. My bad.”
2B remains silent, chastised. She wants to say something back, but she can’t find the words. After all, it’s true—she hadn’t done her research. She hadn’t seen the point. All she needed to know was that a vampire was killing people again. At least, she’d thought that was all she needed to know.
“So you’re... some kind of vampire vigilante...?”
He lets out a short laugh at that as he brushes past a low hanging plant. “That’s one way to say it. When I realized I couldn’t subsist off of animals, I figured I’d kill two birds with one stone. No reason to target innocent people when there’s all kinds of scum in the world.”
“...I never realized vampires put so much thought into it.”
“Well, not all of us do.”
They fall into silence again, but it’s not quite as tense this time. They walk for a few minutes, until eventually he stops and pulls something off of one of the plants. He holds out a hand, and she sees a few purple berries resting on his palm.
“Saskatoon berries—they’re sweet, and they aren’t poisonous to humans.”
She shouldn’t take them. It would be stupid to take them. But she can recognize an olive branch when she sees one, and she realizes that she wants to take it more than she should.
She reaches out.
“...thanks.”
***
2B doesn’t like seeing 9S cry.
It’s unfortunate, because it’s rather easy to make him cry, but she still doesn’t like it. Especially because he never lets her do anything about it—she’d beat up those stupid bullies in an instant, but No, 2B, violence won’t make it better.
Violence won’t bring his silly little book back.
The teacher probably won’t be mad at him. He’s always been a good, respectful kid, and she’ll know he didn’t do it on purpose. But still. He really liked that fucking book, and now he’s crying, and he won’t even let 2B fight the bullies that ruined it. What is she supposed to do with that?
She’s never been good at comforting, but then again, she’s never needed to be. 9S cries easily, but he bounces back just as fast, and there isn’t anyone else in her life that she’d bother worrying about. This time doesn’t have to be any different, but she kind of wants it to be.
This time is worse than usual, and she can tell because he barely even managed to hide it.
Had he faked a smile and said everything was fine as usual? Sure. Did he try to leave with the soggy, torn book before she could get a word out? Absolutely. Did he buckle the moment she touched his arm to ask what was wrong? Yeah, he did.
And now here there are, on the ground, 9S crying as 2B wraps an arm around him, wanting to do something even if she doesn’t know what.
“Sorry,” he says, choking out a wet laugh. “This is stupid. It’s just a book.”
“Don’t apologize,” she responds shortly. He looks up at her, startled, and it’s almost enough to stop the tears. “They’re stupid and mean and you have every right to be upset.” He smiles a little, and she continues, encouraged, “Besides, we don’t need that book. What was it again—a Lunar Tear? We’ll find a real one someday, and it’ll be better than any drawing.”
9S fully laughs at that, and 2B can’t help but smile as well. “That sounds great, 2B. Let’s do that.” They pause for a moment, but it’s comfortable. 9S’s eyes are still shiny, but he isn’t crying anymore, and she doesn’t want to look away. She comes to a realization. “What is it?”
“Your eyes look like the ocean.”
He blinks at her. “The ocean? Do you even know what the ocean looks like?”
“I think I saw it once, as a baby. I don’t remember. But I’ve seen the drawings, the ones my dad left behind. I’ve always loved those drawings.”
9S is quiet for a moment, but then he slowly smiles again. “Well, thank you, 2B.”
***
The first time the vampire stumbles, 2B doesn’t think much of it.
They are in a cave, after all, and even enhanced night vision doesn’t make him immune to tripping. So they keep moving. She snacks on the berries as they go and tries not to wonder how much farther they have to walk.
She wonders if she should apologize. She probably should. But a bigger part of her doesn’t want to bring the mood down again, so she bites her tongue. She does start to open herself up to conversation though, which he latches onto eagerly. The topic naturally falls back to a discussion on vampires, and 2B decides to think of it as a form of gathering information. That’s the only reason she’s entertaining it. Definitely.
They talk about morals and the differences between pure blood and turned vampires. He tells her of a pure blood who runs a village of vampires that have entirely sworn off killing, subsisting entirely off of animals and donations from a nearby town. He tells her of a set of turned siblings he’d encountered once that had completely fallen into their new form, going on an unstoppable killing spree in the name of “science.” He doesn’t say anything about himself.
She doesn’t know what to think of it all. What he’s telling her directly contradicts practically everything she’s ever been told about vampires. And yet he isn’t lying. She can tell that he isn’t lying, and she doesn’t know how to feel about that either.
She doesn’t want to think about it. She doesn’t.
She’s willing to admit that she wants to know more about him though. For someone so talkative, he’s a master at avoiding his own story. So she’ll start small.
“The visor?” His hand comes up to touch it subconsciously. “Ah, right. It’s YoRHa, isn’t it? I didn’t kill the owner, if that’s what you’re wondering. I heard the screams, but I wasn’t fast enough—she was already dead when I got there.”
2B almost sighs in relief, then curses herself for it. It shouldn’t matter. That he wasn’t the one that killed her colleague shouldn’t matter. But still, “Why did you take it?”
He’s silent for a moment, then, “When vampires’ emotions are heightened or they use their hypnosis, their eyes turn red. When I was first turned, I couldn’t control it at all, so I took the visor to hide it. Then I just… never took it off.”
2B doesn’t respond, processing the new information. So he was human once. He was human once.
He changes the subject and keeps walking.
***
2B doesn’t know where 9S is.
Everything is burning. The buildings are on fire and she can barely see through the smoke and she doesn’t know where 9S is.
She runs through the village in a blind daze. Most of the villagers are dead and the vampires are already gone, but she couldn’t care less about them. She just needs to find 9S. She just needs to find him, and then everything will be okay.
She runs into the forest. The fire hasn’t spread this far, but the smoke is close behind her, and she doesn’t know where she’s going. It all feels like some sort of awful fever dream that she can’t wake up from. God, she wishes she could wake up.
She stumbles into a clearing. She sees 9S.
For a moment, it’s like a breath of fresh air. He’s okay, he’s here, she’s found him. But then she begins to take in the whole scene. He’s scared. He looks scared—panicked even, and he’s saying something she can’t hear. And then his eyes flicker over to another figure that she hadn’t noticed before and—
Her stomach drops. It’s a vampire. It’s a vampire, and 9S is shouting at her to run, and 2B can’t move. The vampire lunges at her, but she can’t move.
She hits the ground with a thud and braces herself for a bite that never comes. When she manages to look up, she wishes she hadn’t.
Because 9S is on the ground instead of her, body stiff and mouth open in a silent scream as the vampire feeds. 2B watches in horror. 9S had pushed her aside. He’d pushed her aside and she still can’t move.
After what feels like an eternity, the vampire stands, licking his lips and wiping a stray trail of blood off his chin. He glances over at 2B once, as though she’s no more significant than an ant, and then he smiles. 2B shudders, and then the creature is gone.
And just like that, 2B’s world falls apart.
***
The second time the vampire stumbles, 2B reaches out to catch him.
She grabs him by the wrist and pulls him back up, then immediately regrets it. He winces, and she quickly lets go, as though she had burned him. Because—like an idiot—she had. She’d completely forgotten that she was wearing her YoRHa-issued gloves, complete with pure silver embroidery that’s practically a hot iron to vampires.
Luckily, she hadn’t been touching him for very long, and it’s probably still better than falling face-first into the dirt, but still. She feels bad. She shouldn’t, but she does.
He doesn’t say anything though, just rubs at his wrist and smiles. He says, “Thank you,” and something in his tone sounds off. Like there’s something missing, but she doesn’t know what. He turns to keep going, and something comes over her.
“Sorry,” she says, and he stops. “I’m sorry,” she repeats. She doesn’t just mean the burns. She hopes he realizes that.
He must, because he nods slightly and keeps walking. She follows quietly. Eventually, he says softly, “You don’t have to tell me any more than you already have. But if you want to talk, I’m here to listen.”
She thinks for a moment, and is surprised to realize that she does want to talk about it. Maybe this is the time, the place, and as bizarre as it may seem, the person. She’s beginning to trust him more than she’ll ever admit.
“I… when I was young, my parents travelled a lot,” she starts slowly. He says nothing, but she can tell he’s paying attention by the tilt of his head. “But then my mom got sick. We stopped in a town so she could rest, but she died. My father followed not long after in a hunting accident.”
“I’m sorry.”
2B shakes her head. “It’s okay. I was so small, I barely remembered them. Besides, I was happy in that village. The people took care of me, and I… I had a friend.” She pauses, swallowing a lump that had formed in her throat. “He didn’t have parents either, and we bonded over that. He was a bit strange and way too talkative, but he was so passionate about his interests that you couldn’t help but get sucked in. He was everything I had.”
She trails off for a moment, reminiscing, until the vampire gently prods, “But?”
She takes in a shuddering breath. “But it didn’t last long. Vampires attacked, as I mentioned. Burned the entire place to the ground, killed everyone.”
“Including your friend?”
She can feel her grief threatening to rise to the surface, but she pushes it back down. “Kind of. We were attacked, but he wasn’t killed. He was going to turn, so I… I finished it instead.”
The vampire falls silent. After a moment, he starts, “Actually, I—”
2B cuts him off, emotions suddenly rushing over her. “Y’know, maybe it was for the best. At least—at least he didn’t have to turn, right? At least I was able to do that for him.”
The vampire doesn’t respond.
***
“Please, 2B.”
She doesn’t know what to do. She doesn’t—“I can’t.”
Somehow, despite everything, 9S still manages to smile. “You have to. Before—” he’s interrupted by a wracking cough. “Before I turn into one of them.”
“But—But you…”
He’s clutching at the wound on his neck, but it’s no use. It’s already turning purple, and it’s spreading. It’s only a matter of time. “Please. I want you… to do this… for me.”
She can’t do this. She’s just a kid. He’s just a kid. What kind of fucked up world is this?
And yet she staggers over to him, because he’s only asking her for one thing. It’s the only thing he’s ever asked of her.
His breathing is growing harsh and she can hardly see through her tears, but she finds her way to him easily. She cups his cheek, and his own hand moves from his neck to rest on top of hers. His palm is warm, and he closes his eyes.
Slowly, her hand moves downwards to meet the other. His neck is small and so, so fragile. She has to fight back the nausea as she begins to apply pressure, and she knows that she’ll never be able to erase the sound of his choked gasps as his body fights for air.
But through it all, he opens his eyes one last time, smiles one last time, and says one last time—“Thank you, 2B.” Her eyes flicker down as his hand falls to his side, and there, still clutched in his fist, is a flower. A white flower that almost seems to be glowing. A Lunar Tear.
He’d found one. He’d found one for her, and now he’s gone. And 2B—
2B can only scream.
***
By the third time the vampire stumbles, 2B is genuinely growing concerned.
Faltering here and there is one thing, but at this point he’s tripping on air. She tries to look closer, to determine if something’s off, but it’s difficult in the limited light. He’s pale, but vampires are always pale, and they don’t sweat, so there’s no indicator there. His mouth is downturned, but she can’t see his eyes, so she doesn’t know if he’s just annoyed at their continued predicament or if something is seriously wrong.
A small part of her brain, a part that sounds suspiciously like Head Priestess White, tells her that she shouldn’t care. That if he’s sick or hurt or otherwise in trouble, then it’s simply karma for being the monster he is. But she’s sick of lying to herself. He isn’t a monster at all, and she can admit that now. He’s a person, just like her—probably better than her—and she does care. She cares a lot.
Which is why when she finally comes to a realization, she feels her heart drop.
“Hey…” They’d paused, and he’s standing with one hand supporting him against the wall. “When was the last time you fed?”
She sees him stiffen, then slump, and he doesn’t look at her when he responds, “When was the last time you received a report?”
“…two weeks ago.”
“That sounds about right.”
It feels like a slap in the face, but he just turns and keeps walking, hand still on the wall. She doesn’t follow immediately, internally cursing herself. Obviously he hasn’t fed—he’s been stuck in here with her for who knows how long, and he’d been a picky feeder even before that. And yet he hadn’t said anything, hadn’t complained or lashed out or attacked her like any other vampire would have.
He’d just kept walking until he physically couldn’t anymore, and he’d worried more about her than anything else. She wants to scream.
“Are… are you doing okay?” She can’t seem to come up with anything better.
“I’m not going to attack you, if that’s what you mean. My control is better than that.” That isn’t what she means. That isn’t what she means at all. He seems to realize that though, because he turns, and his voice is soft as he says, “But if you’re just concerned then well… thank you, 2B.”
He might as well have ripped her heart clean out. Honestly, that would have been less of a shock. She’d probably have an easier time breathing. Thank you, 2B. He doesn’t seem to have noticed that he’d said anything weird. He just keeps walking. Thank you, 2B. She’d never told him her name. She doesn’t know his name either. She doesn’t know it she doesn’t she doesn’t she doesn’t—
Thank you, 2B.
She does.
She wants to say it. She wants it more than she’s ever wanted anything. She can taste it there, right on the tip of her tongue, but it gets lodged in her throat.
What if she’s wrong? What if she’s right? Which one is worse?
He doesn’t give her the chance to ask, because he lets out a delighted, “A door!” and jogs ahead. Sure enough, there’s a large metal door blocking off the tunnel that he’s just barely able to scrape open. They’d finally found more signs of life, and she isn’t even able to process it fully. Figures.
He slips through the opening he’d created, and she hears him gasp. She follows quickly, only to run straight into him where he’d stopped just on the other side. She’s about to ask why he’d just frozen there, when she looks up and understands.
It’s like a sea of light.
Past the door is an expansive cavern that by all means should be a void of darkness, lit only by their meagre torches. And yet it isn’t. It isn’t that at all, because the floor is glowing, as though being lit by countless tiny lanterns. And when she looks closer, she realizes that the little lanterns aren’t lanterns at all, but flowers. White, glowing flowers with teardrop petals. She knows those flowers.
They’re Lunar Tears.
Beside her, the vampire (you know his name just say it it’s—) has gone completely still, gazing at the ocean of flowers. Off to one side is a small metal shack that seems to be missing one wall, with what appears to be a cot and an icebox and a small stove. He ignores it completely, choosing instead to wade further into the cavern of flowers. He doesn’t step on a single one. She almost wants to cry.
He stops when he reaches the center, then kneels and reaches out to brush a hand against one of the flowers. She can’t be certain from a distance, but she thinks he’s shaking. She’s about to move forward herself, say something, anything, when time suddenly slows.
He coughs and then, like a marionette with its strings cut, simply slumps over. No fanfare, no dramatic gasping or crying, just—one moment he’s kneeling, the next he’s lying on his side, a few of the flowers crushed beneath him.
2B’s heart jumps into her throat, and then she’s rushing forward.
She barely has the mind to dodge the flowers, but she manages to reach him with no further casualties. In one smooth movement, she drops to her knees and pulls him into her arms, one hand supporting his head as the other gently caresses his cheek. Looking at him now, she wonders how it had taken her so long to realize—he’s older now, sure, but he’s still him. He’s still the same kind, enthusiastic, self-sacrificial boy she’d grown up with.
He’s still 9S.
Her hand hovers over his visor, but stops. No matter how badly she wishes to see his face, she has more important things to worry about right now. Besides, she can’t betray his trust like that. She just can’t.
Instead, she bites back her tears and stands, pulling him into a bridal carry and moving over to the shack she’d noted before. She sets him on the cot and takes a moment to breathe, analyzing everything in her head. Just compartmentalize. She can compartmentalize. She’s great at compartmentalizing. Just ignore the way she’s having a million thoughts per minute and everything will be fine. She looks closer.
His skin is pale, and cold, and he’s barely breathing, but she doesn’t know how much of that is normal vampire stuff and how much is oh-hey-he’s-actively-dying stuff. She curses the church for not teaching them more and wishes she’d paid more attention to his ramblings earlier. He’d probably said something helpful.
But that doesn’t help anything now, and there’s still one glaringly obvious fact that she can address: he needs blood. Two weeks—it’s been two fucking weeks, and he needs blood. She starts looking for a knife.
She doesn’t have much luck, and she has to ignore the voice in her head (this time it’s 6O) that’s screaming at her to stop being stupid, but she has to figure it out somehow. Part of her does think this is crazy. If you’d told her two days ago that she’d be looking for a way to cut herself to feed a dying vampire, she’d probably have laughed and/or killed you on the spot for even suggesting such a thing.
But this isn’t just any dying vampire. This is 9S—her 9S, and she’ll be damned if she loses him again.
Eventually, she gives up on finding a knife and turns to the next, most obvious option: her sword. It isn’t ideal, considering it’s blessed and will therefore begin to heal any wound she makes almost immediately, but it will have to do. She pulls it from its sheath and slices through her wrist without an ounce of hesitation. She doesn’t even register the pain.
With only the shimmering flowers for light, her blood is violently red against her skin, and she tries not to look at it as it drips slowly from her wrist onto 9S’s all-too-pale lips. There’s no response, and the wound begins to close up far sooner than she’d like. She takes in a breath and slashes it again.
And again.
And again.
And again.
She loses count. It doesn’t matter. All that matters is the boy lying before her and the slow return of color to his face. A somewhat mangled arm is a small price to pay for that. She just keeps repeating it to herself, because it’s the only thing that keeps her going, as she cuts and drips and cuts and drips and cuts and drips until—
Something shifts.
It’s small at first, just a twitch, and then before she can fully comprehend it he’s latching onto her arm and biting down roughly. She winces involuntarily but doesn’t pull away, and when she looks closer, she realizes that's he doesn't appear to be conscious. He must have moved entirely instinctively, but well, that’s what she’d been counting on.
She slowly shifts until she’s kneeling by the cot and tries to remember to breathe. She can feel herself growing tired, but she tells herself that’s a good thing, especially as 9S continues to visibly improve. By the time he lets go and settles back onto the cot, he looks almost human, no longer deathly pale and frigid.
She hadn’t realized that was possible, and she can’t help but wonder just how long he’d been starving himself that she’d fully believed that was how he was supposed to look.
Despite her worries, she can only fight the heavy weight of her eyelids for so long. With the last of her strength, she reaches over and plucks one of the Lunar Tears out of the ground, laying it carefully beside him. She rests her head on the cot, and the flower is the last thing she sees before everything goes dark.
***
2B doesn’t return to the village.
She doesn’t want to see the carnage. She doesn’t need to. She joins the church and swears to kill every last vampire she can find. She hardens her heart and shuts everyone out and devotes herself to that mission. It’s the only thing keeping her alive.
And yet, at the same time, it’s killing her. Killing the little girl that’s still buried within her, constantly crying out.
The little girl that just wants her friend back.
***
When 2B wakes, the first thing she notices is that the cot is empty but for the flower she had placed on it.
Her initial response is to panic, and she shoots into a seated position. She immediately regrets it as her head begins to spin—it’s not the first time she’s had to deal with blood loss, but it’s been a while, and this situation is admittedly a bit out of the ordinary.
When the world finally stabilizes, she pushes herself to her feet and looks around. To her immense relief, 9S is standing only a few meters away, his back turned. She takes a few steps forward, then falters. What is she even supposed to say? Hey, sorry I didn’t realize who you were and tried to kill you multiple times, but I remember now so we should be friends again? Right. Like it could ever be that easy.
In the end, it’s 9S who breaks the silence.
“Why did you help me?”
It’s a simple question, but it cuts straight to her core. His voice isn’t necessarily cold, but it’s flat, measured. Wary. He truly doesn’t understand why he’s alive. In all fairness, she wouldn’t either. If they were anyone else, he wouldn’t be. If he were just some vampire and her just some hunter, he would have starved to death right then and there with the flowers as his only mourners. But they aren’t. He isn’t just some vampire, he’s—
“…Nines.”
She can see the way he visibly tenses, as though his spine had been pulled taught by a wire. He says nothing. She reaches up and pulls off her visor, discarding it somewhere on the ground. Then she tries again.
“Nines.” She doesn’t know where to go from here. She doesn’t know where she wants to go from here, but there is one thing that’s been weighing on her. One thing that truly, she knows, but she just needs the confirmation. “Did you… know the whole time?” His silence is answer enough. He never did like lying to her. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
She can’t help the hurt that leaks into the words, though she hasn’t fully processed what it all means. That somehow she’d been trying to kill the one person in this world that she cared for the most, yes, but also that he’d known all along and had never even tried to tell her. He’d just let her go on this destructive spiral of hatred and revenge when all she’d ever wanted was for him to be alive and with her again. The more she thinks about it, the more upset she feels.
But he winces, and finally, quietly says, “I didn’t want you to see me like this,” and all of her anger washes away. She takes a few more steps forward, but it’s as if a dam has opened, and just as she reaches him, he whirls around and continues, “I mean, I’m disgusting aren’t I? A literal monster. All I can do is take and take and I just—maybe you were right. It probably would have been better if I had just died back there.”
“Oh, Nines, no…” It feels as though all the air has been sucked out from around her, and an ache so potent spreads through her to the point where her bones feel like they’re on fire. But she knows that it’s merely a fraction of what 9S must be feeling, so she breathes in and takes that last step, to where they’re almost touching, and says, “That isn’t what I meant at all.” Her hand finds its way to his arm. “You’re alive, 9S.” It’s almost reverent. She can still hardly believe it. “You’re alive.”
He tries to scoff, but it’s weak. “You think this is living?”
She takes a moment to regard him. “I think you’re standing in front of me, talking to me. Nines, you were laughing with me and that’s… that’s so much more than I ever could have asked for.”
He doesn’t seem to know what to say to that. But that’s okay, he doesn’t need to. Slowly, gently, she reaches up, until her fingertips just barely brush the visor still covering his face. “May I?”
She can hear his breath catch as he flinches away, and he tries to deflect. “You don’t want to.”
“I do.” He doesn’t respond this time, but he tilts his head just slightly, and she takes that as permission. This time, when she reaches for the visor, he doesn’t move away, and soon it is fluttering to the ground. Even as it falls, 9S keeps his eyes closed. 2B moves her hand to carefully cradle his face, then asks, “Will you look at me?”
There’s a moment that passes, a breath, a heartbeat. Then gingerly, he opens his eyes.
The people in the church always described vampires’ eyes as being the color of blood. Of fire. Of death and carnage and loss. Of fear. They couldn’t have been more wrong.
Because the eyes looking back at her now are warm, regardless or perhaps because of their vibrant coloring. She looks at them and thinks of the sun on the beach, the hearth in their old cabin, the fruits they used to share. She looks at them, at him, and thinks of home.
He clearly doesn’t think the same, as he’s only able to hold her gaze for a few moments before he’s averting his eyes in what appears to be shame. He smiles, but it’s bittersweet and a little bit sad as he says, “They don’t look like the ocean anymore.”
But she just shakes her head, smiling softly as she says, “They don’t need to. They’re beautiful just like this.”
He genuinely looks shocked at her words, and all she can think to do is reach out and finally, finally pull him towards her, into an embrace that is incredibly overdue. He’s stiff for all of a few seconds before he relaxes fully into it, burying his head in the crook of her neck even as he chokes out a laugh that quickly turns into a sob. She rests one hand against his back and the other on the top of his head, petting his hair gently and saying, “You always were such a crybaby.”
He laughs again, stronger this time, and 2B can feel something deep inside of her healing. Eventually, he pulls away, and for a moment they just look at each other. But they are still stuck inside of a cave and 2B is really starting to miss the sunlight, so she says, “There’s another door on the other side of the cavern. Shall we get out of here?”
9S grins, and wow is that a sight for sore eyes. “One moment.” He takes one step back and carefully bends over to pick one of the Lunar Tears, murmuring a quiet apology as he breaks the stem. Then, he turns to her and carefully reaches out to place the flower behind her ear, and his smile shifts into something softer. “There, perfect. Now we can go.” There’s a slight hesitation, then, “…Together?”
Her hand goes up to brush the flower, then reaches over to intertwine their fingers in a way that she hopes conveys I’m never letting you out of my sight again. By the look on his face, she thinks he gets it.
“Together.”