Chapter Text
Cold. That was all Hal felt in his final few minutes.
His fingers were trembling, but he pressed forward, clicking away at his computer in an attempt to figure out the security for Snake and Meryl’s escape route. Their opportunity window was short, but otherwise manageable if Hal timed it right. No second could be wasted here: if the soldier duo took too long, they’d die from the nuke or miss their escape opportunity. If Hal took too long, they’d all die. He was going to die either way.
Hal forces himself to focus on the mission by taking a deep breath. He almost feels like he’s on the same level as Snake, helping others in need; but in the end, Hal knows he’s atoning for the sin of creating Metal Gear REX. Perhaps he’s also atoning for the sins of his father, and his father before him, for all the horrific tragedies they’ve caused. He’s not convinced his death is enough for that, though. Hal is only one man.
When Meryl and Snake killed Liquid, it was almost enough for Hal to believe that maybe, just maybe, he’d have time to run away. That he’d escape, too, and continue on to live, even if he didn’t really like living.
Life, Hal thinks, was usually full of suffering. Maybe there would be peace in death.
He’s tempted to call Snake via codec again, but he can’t bring himself to do anything but slump in his chair. Hal closes his eyes, and wishes he’ll fall asleep before dying. Always a coward to the end, then.
…
It’s oddly quiet when Hal wakes up. Everything is still, as if under a spell. Then, there are footsteps echoing in the hall, and the rasping gasps of a familiar man.
“Otacon!,” Snake yells out, sweating and disheveled.
Hal is still processing the fact he’s alive when the soldier grabs his waist and hauls him over his shoulder. Everything’s going so fast that he doesn’t even register grabbing his laptop or being brought outside.
“S-Snake?,” Hal weakly says. “Am I dead?”
“You’re not dead.”
Snake grunts and winces while carrying Hal, trying his best to move quickly through the thick snow.
“Why?”
“They called off the air strike.”
Hal doesn’t want to register whatever else Snake tells him. He wants to go somewhere far away.
---
It’s only been three days since Shadow Moses, but sometimes it feels like a lifetime, or that it was just yesterday— whichever Hal’s mind thinks is best to torture him with. With the sun setting late in the evening and slow to rise in the morning, his sense of time was out of whack. Dave seemed unbothered with the unusual weather, but that’s expected of a man who’s been through hell and back.
Meryl had left the day before, proclaiming she had ‘unfinished business’. Hal doesn’t really believe her, but also doesn’t blame her for lying; the thought of living with two men double your age couldn’t have been appealing for too many young women.
With Meryl’s absence, Hal felt odd. He felt like he was freeloading off of Dave, and couldn’t just sit still and watch him do all the hard work. Without internet forums or video games to distract him, along with the events of Shadow Moses, it left Hal feeling like a naked, over-exposed, and defenseless animal. He needed something to do or else he was going to lose his mind.
So, he asked Dave if he needed any help around the property.
Dave grumbles in his usual fashion, and wordlessly leads him outside to the dog houses. Hal hadn’t been able to count all of them, but he figures there must have been at least twenty-five dogs. They varied in age, breed, height, build, and personality. Some were sweet and docile, like Mary and Joy. Others were shy and worrisome, like Dooly and Salmon. For the most part, they were happy to ignore Hal and continue on with their normal routine, following Dave and whatever he had in store for them.
Joy came up to Hal as soon as he was within arms reach of her, gleefully licking his hands and wagging her long, flurry tail. She was a large samoyed and practically blended in with the thick snow. Despite Joy’s persistence with wanting Hal all to herself, Dave continued leading him further inside towards a shed where he kept all of the dog equipment: leashes, kibble bags, food bowls, brushes, and collars. The collection of items were strewn across the floor, or in places where Hal imagines they didn’t belong.
Dave suddenly spoke, his voice sounding natural in the chorus of barks and growls of the dogs behind them.
“You can help me organize this shed. Group the items together and I’ll put them away. Ask if you’re not sure what something is.”
Hal hums and nods in agreement, practically shaking the glasses off his face. He felt too excited about the prospect of working.
He sets off to work, collecting the leashes and handing them to Dave, who seemed to not have expected him to hand it to him directly.
“You can just set them on the floor or something…”
His tone was bashful, almost.
“O-oh, sorry, Dave.. I’ll put them on the table. You shouldn’t bend down so much with all of your injuries.”
Dave growls, and Hal figures he didn’t enjoy the coddling. He’ll come to regret it sooner or later, Hal thinks to himself as he continues to group the equipment together.
After the leashes, came the food bowls… or water bowls? Hal assumed they were food bowls, but couldn’t really tell— they were clean with no indication of use. They were probably extras, possibly for future dogs. There was one bowl in particular that stood out to Hal, though.
Unlike the other bowls, this one had seen better days. The stainless steel was dull and looked foggy. It was adorned with scratches, and upon closer inspection, was missing pieces near the top. A chill ran down Hal’s back— what sort of animal could damage metal like this? A dog’s teeth would sooner bleed than damage the bowl.
Dave seemed to notice Hal’s hesitation.
“You okay there?”
Hal almost dropped the bowl.
“Yeah, y-yeah, yeah I’m fine. Sorry, just, uh—”
He stopped speaking when he felt someone breathing on the side of his shoulder. Was Dave peering at him? He didn’t have the nerves to look over at the other man.
They were both quiet for an unbearable amount of time. Hal wasn’t sure what to do. He stood and stood, waiting for Dave to say something. He stayed quiet.
“S-sorry for stopping, I’ll keep reorganizing—”
“S’fine. That bowl’s special anyways. Hand it over.”
At last, Hal turns his body towards Dave, unable to read his expression. He didn’t seem annoyed or displeased, but rather mournful.
Earnestly, Hal asks him a question.
“What makes it special?”
Dave was still. Hal didn’t know if he was deep in thought or trying to process his words.
“I S’pose it isn’t so special, actually. It just goes inside the house.”
“Inside the house..? Don’t the dogs eat out here?”
Dave pauses. He places a hand on his hip, possibly pondering over his answer.
“In case one of the dogs eats inside.”
Hal felt Dave’s uneasiness. It takes one to know one.
“You know, you don’t need to lie or anything.”
“Lie?”
“Well… I figured it was important to you. It’s fine if you want to tell me what happened.”
Dave suddenly turned away, ignoring the invitation to speak. Hal didn’t know when to quit, and took a step towards him. His voice was as gentle as he could manage.
“Did… did the dog who ate out of the bowl die?”
There's silence. Moments pass, and no one dares to move. Hal forgets to breathe until Dave replies. His voice is slightly shaky.
“Yeah, I guess you could say he died…”
Dave chances a glance over at Hal, whose glasses were teetering off the edge of his face. He pushes them up his nose and awkwardly fidgets with his hands.
“No matter how many times death takes someone from you, it always stings.”
A beat.
“Only really hurts because he didn’t actually die.”
Another beat. Dave resumes talking.
“He was obedient, in the beginning. Listened to his orders, did his job well, kept the rest of the dogs safe. He was one of my best. Then something happened to him out in the woods,” Dave stops to point out the shed window where the trees were the densest, “When he came back, he was never the same. He howled like crazy, scratched walls. He started to attack the other dogs. He bit one of them. It was too late when I got her to the vet. She died from her wounds in my arms. I felt responsible.”
Dave looked down at the floor, his expression hidden from Hal.
“I didn’t really have the heart to euthanize him. I dropped him off in the wilderness. He was better fit for that sort of environment.”
Hal wasn’t sure how to respond. He didn’t feel close enough to Dave to properly comfort him, but he couldn’t stay silent.
“I don’t think you were responsible, Dave. Things happen. It’s not your fault that he came out of those woods changed… anything horrible enough will change anybody, no matter how strong they are.”
Dave finally turned around, and Hal was stunned to see his eyes wet with tears. Dave didn’t cry, but Hal wished he had.
“Yeah.”
They worked together in silence until the shed was reorganized. Hal almost didn’t want to leave when they were done. Dave left for the cabin as soon as they were finished.