Chapter Text
“What’s the last thing you remember?”
A rapid timeline of events comes rushing through his memory: the beach at sunset, the curry, the song, the burning agony that ripped through his abdomen. Isami, face marred with tears, hands grasping at nothing, tearing rivulets into the dirt. He remembers patches of the great beyond too, but not what was said. And then…
“The heat,” He finally replies. The light pointed at his left eye clicks off.
The heat had been white-hot at first, coursing through his veins like a shot of adrenaline. It was this...energy, a hot-wire to the motor, an engine roaring to life. His body-not-body being reconstructed piece by piece with laser precision, poured into shape with biological filament, welded together with burning sutures.
Then his feet were on the ground, closer than it had been in weeks, and he felt the chill of wind grace across his skin. Flesh...he raised his hand, made a fist. He watched the veins bulge.
He was human again.
He heard Lulu first, mere paces away, sobbing into her hair. Isami was close-by, doing basically the same. His heart lurched. His knees still felt weak beneath him, but the desire to get there overpowered any reason. One step, and then the next. His feet dragged through the dirt, catching on any irregularity, making his muscles brace. He had to think of something cool to say.
“That’s the fever. We clocked you at a 104 when you came in.” Doctor Kowalski spoke in an even tone, moving to point the light into his right eye. “It’s a miracle you could even stand.” She watches his pupil, and her brow furrows.
Green. Solid green.
She clicks the light off and slides her chair to the counter to grab her clipboard.
“Well, I feel a lot better now, thanks to you.” Smith answers through blinks. An easy, reassuring smile lifts his cheeks, and she returns it with one that doesn’t meet her eyes.
“We’re gonna keep you here for a few more hours, just to keep an eye on your condition. After that, if you’re still feeling good, you’ll be free to go.” She stands, and makes a move towards the door. “Get some rest, Lewis Smith.”
“Wait,” Smith says, stopping her for a moment, “go where? Back to base?”
Doctor Kowalski returns him that same flat smile, though he can see a glimmer of sincerity tucked away in it. “That’s something you’ll have to discuss with the General.” She pulls the door open, then reiterates, “Rest.” As she steps through, she hears the crinkling sound of him laying back down.
As soon as the latch clicks shut, there’s a screen of blue hair in front of her. She pulls the clipboard to her chest in surprise.
“He’s alright, right? He’s OK?” The girl gestures, waving the symbol with both hands. She’s way too close, and it makes Dr. Kowalski pause. She’d never been great with children...she falters on an immediate response, but only for a moment.
“He’ll be fine, he just needs rest, a…” The girl is leaning on her now, stretching her neck to see through the window. Dr. Kowalski’s gaze wanders to the seats beside the door, lands on the man sitting turned to look at her, who quickly averts his eyes upon contact.
“Lieutenant Ao, right?” She chances. He startles. The girl turns to look at him as well, then backs up to let her pass, and follows as she crosses to him.
“Yes.” He says curtly, eyes still fixed at a spot on the floor.
“Do you mind if I talk with you for a moment about Lieutenant Smith?” At that, his eyes raise to meet hers. “You were with him for most of the time, and maybe you can help me out, we could answer each others’ questions.”
His eyes flit away again, brow furrowed further. “I don’t know him that well. We were friends, or something like it, but due to circumstances...um, due to circumstances…”
“30 foot tall circumstances?” She tries. There’s a sharp outtake of air, and she catches the hint of a smile ghost across his face. Good. It’s not much, but she can see him start to relax. She shifts to sit more comfortably and continues. Well, starts to.
“Lulu was there too!” The girl interjects, leaning heavily on Lieutenant Ao, who seems to have moved past the point of protest and accepted utter defeat. “Lulu can help.”
“Okay,” Dr. Kowalski says, a bit unsure, but continues. “Eye color?” She decides to start with what should be an easy one.
“Blue!” Lulu is the first to answer, smiling wide.
Alright, that’s the first discrepancy. She grabs the pen from behind her ear and jots it down. Lieutenant Ao watches her with an eyebrow raised, but stays quiet.
“Did he seem abnormal in any way prior to his, uh…” She trails off. His death? Is what she wants to ask, but immediately realizes how absurd it sounds. But, he did die, and now he was back. So what’s the right thing to say? She tosses the thought and starts again, “Like, within the day leading up to it?”
Lulu starts to speak again, but this time it’s Lieutenant Ao that answers, holding up his fist absentmindedly. “He was fine.”
This is continued with a nod from Lulu, and two thumbs up. “Normal function!” She cheers.
There was a final question burning on Dr. Kowalski’s lips, but she wasn’t sure how to phrase it.
The MRI scans we took of Lieutenant Smith came back with square shaped organs. The scans showed no bones, but a structure of lattice-like supports. His heart doesn’t beat, it hums. He’s running unusually hot, but doesn’t seem at all sick. His eyes were blue, now they’re green.
What...happened between after his death and now?
“Can we see him?” Lulu asks, and finally at this point Lieutenant Ao shrugs her off of him. Dr. Kowalski snaps back to the present, rising to stand along with them.
“Is there anything else?” Lieutenant Ao questions immediately after, face still but not unopened.
The question is still there, pursed between her teeth, but it dies when she sees the desperation in the girl’s eyes. Dr. Kowalski shakes her head. “Thank you both. Please try to keep your visit short, as I said he needs rest. We’ll be releasing him in a few hours.” Lulu is through the door before she finishes the sentence. Lieutenant Ao gives her a curt nod, and he’s gone too, almost as quickly. As she turns to leave, she can hear Lulu through the door, a high-pitched--
“Smi—” Lulu starts, before Isami clamps a hand over her mouth.
“He’s sleeping,” Isami answers, and his throat catches. He swallows hard, slowly removing the hand. “He’s sleeping.” Something in him he didn’t know was tensed relaxes.
Lulu nods in understanding, and the two of them approach the bed as quietly as possible. Isami watches the gentle rise and fall of Smith’s chest, listens to the quiet hum of the AC unit.
Isami could count his experiences with death on one hand. There’d been relatives, distant cousins and grandparents, but none of it had ever been active. None of it had been instant. He knew it was coming, and if he didn't, it was far enough way that he could push it down far enough that he didn't have to think about it. Most importantly, unlike the Deathdrives, none of them had wanted to die, at least not so brutally.
“Do you think he’s dreaming?” Lulu whispers, bumping lightly into Isami’s arm.
Even now that feeling burns within him, the wanting to live, the needing it. He meets Lulu’s eyes and smiles, and the only thought he has at first is does she miss him?
The dead don’t come back. They aren’t supposed to.
Isami lightly ghosts his fingers across Smith’s, who twitches in response. There’s a small gasp from Lulu, and Isami withdraws.
“I must be.” Smith says warmly, and Isami’s eyes snap to his face to meet the ones staring back at him. He can’t help the involuntary smile he sends back.
Smith is just about to say something but all that comes out is “Oof!” As Lulu throws herself at him, wrapping her arms around his neck. He starts to sit up, supporting her weight and pulling her in closer as he goes. He puts his free hand out, and Isami moves in to help pry her off.
And then the hand wraps around his neck and squeezes, pulling him in as well. Unable to brace fast enough, Isami’s head knocks square into his collarbone, and his hand lands somewhere around his abdomen. He can feel it shake as Smith laughs.
“My two favorite people in the world come to see me? Either I am dreaming or I’ve got incredible luck.” He lets Lulu slide back down to the floor, but his hand lingers on Isami’s head as he pulls away, until the distance forces it to separate. It gets about halfway back to his chest before Isami catches it in his own, gripping tight.
“Yeah, you’re lucky,” Isami replies, barely above a whisper. His voice is soft, and warm, and scared, all at once. Slowly he loosens his grip, and his fingers pivot to lock in the spaces between Smith’s, who lets him freely. Then a laugh – one entirely to himself – and he continues, “You’ve got a lot of nerve.”
Smith watches him as his eyes drift to the floor again, and there’s that familiar lurch in his heart.
“Lulu wants to hold hands too!” Lulu says, moving to the other side of the bed. There’s an awkward moment where Smith has to shift further up to stay sitting upright, but then just as fast she’s there, gripping his hand in both of hers. She squeezes and lets go, feeling the skin flex.
There’s a moment where they’re all just there, listening to the mechanical units hum and feeling the sun as it spills into the room. It’s almost peaceful. Smith gives Isami’s hand a soft squeeze, a reassurance, and he can feel the steady pulse running through him. Isami brings their intertwined hands together to his lips, the slightest touch. A promise answered.
“I meant to tell you.” Smith says, sounding more vulnerable and smaller than he thought he was ever capable of. “Lulu--”
“Lulu did try, but Isami wouldn’t listen.” She says, still playing with his fingers held between hers. He pulls his hand away just for a moment to tussle the hair on her head.
Isami thinks back, through everything, tries to go categorically. If he’d been aware, would it have changed anything? Bravern, Smith, he’d always been there to save him, to shield him from the worst possible outcome, to make him believe that there was something worth continuing to live for, even if it meant sacrificing himself. To change him.
Even now, standing over Smith as himself, his hair grown longer and a feeling like all the fear had been burned away, could Isami really say he was the same person? Who had he been?
If Bravern hadn’t stopped the blast, if none of the freaky world-bending aliens had shown up, he’d still be Daidara-Five, charging in to simulated situations he talked himself into believing he could handle. Taking whatever measures necessary to finish the job. Keeping himself at an arm’s length from everyone else. Him and Smith would be rivals, at least from Smith’s perspective, nothing more than battlefield partners, and life would go on. And Lulu…
He looks at the both of them, quiet and sweet in enjoying the other’s company, finally able to stop worrying about the world around them. There’s a kernel of the bittersweet in it, drowned out by waves of endless joy.
Isami laughs, a choked, stuttering sound, and it surprises them both. He keeps laughing, louder now, and Smith’s smile drops when he sees his face. He’s crying.
We’re here.
We made it.
What happens next?
“Isami…” Smith starts, feeling the grip on his hand getting tighter.
“You think that matters now?” Isami finally says, the smile spread free and wild across his face, even through the tears. “You’re here! You’re alive!”
Smith could tell he’d been holding it in the entire ride here, saw the way his jaw would set, biting back whatever was pushing to break out. He’d wanted to reach out, to wrap their hands around each others, to hold him in his heart just the way he had been the whole time. But Isami had dignity to protect, so he didn’t. He just kept his eyes pinned on Isami’s hands, watching as they wrapped and unwrapped around themselves.
“Isami…” Lulu says next, her voice wobbling too. The dam breaks, and she rushes to his side, wrapping both arms around as much of him as she can.
You’re both so weepy, Smith thinks, looking between the both of them. He’s getting up and bending over, pulled like a magnet to their embrace.
He folds into Isami, who’s still holding his hand tight. He lets his free hand wrap around his waist, around where Lulu’s arms meet, while Isami’s hand pulls his head to the crook of his neck. Smith buries himself there, happily, shutting his eyes tight. He’s not going to cry. His hand on Isami’s back traces absentminded shapes, stopping only to pull him deeper. He feels the sobs shudder through him, adjusts as Lulu brings Isami tighter as well. He breathes it in for a moment. He’s not going to cry.
I love you.
I really love you.
It was something that had built up inside him slowly, bubbling at his feet and shooting through him, a fractal burn through his nervous system. Admiration and envy had melted into desire, a thread tied to a shot arrow, and all he had to do was follow the path it carved.
The heat transformed him, and that heat restored him.
He finally breaks their hands apart, and pulls away, just an inch, to wipe at the mess on Isami’s face. Isami lets him, bringing his own hands up to help. While he’s there, Smith takes a moment to push his bangs aside too. His hair grown out like this almost made him look his age.
Cupped between Smith’s hands, he sees Isami. And for the second time, he accepts everything.
The hands leave as Isami picks Lulu up in a hug of her own, spinning her around the room. He sets her down and wipes her face too, before coming back to Smith’s side.
“So,” Isami says, and sniffles, “what happens next?”
Smith breathes a heavy sigh, his heart kicked into overdrive, and leans back onto the bed’s pillow. He starts to put both hands behind his head, but leaves one out as Lulu comes back around to grab it. “Doc says I should meet with the general to figure out whether they want me back on base or not. And I still owe Shelley that dinner.” He points a finger at Isami. “And I still owe you drinks.”
Isami chuckles, bringing a chair to sit close to him. “Your memory’s good.”
“Like I never left.” Smith winks.
“It’s gonna take a whole lot more than drinks to pay me back now, though.” He leans onto the bed’s railing, with his arms folded under his head to support it.
“Lulu wants payback, too.” Lulu says, folding Smith’s hand into a fist. He laughs.
“Anything.” He replies, and he means it, splaying the hand at Lulu’s side like it’s exploded. Then he remembers, and turns towards her more fully. “Lulu, what’s next for you?”
Lulu’s expression drops, but she doesn’t let go.
She thinks of her future, now ruled nonexistent, about how much work and how long it took just for her to get here. She did it. Her mission was done, the world was saved, and Isami and Smith were safe.
Superbia was gone.
“To live.” She finally raises her head to meet his eyes. “Lulu’s going to live.”
She looks from one to the other, and all she sees is pride. Isami stretches an arm across the bed to pat her head.
“We’ll see that it’s done,” he says, then adds with a mock-salute and a smirk, “Future Warrior Lulu.” She smiles back.
“First order of business should be those drinks, I think,” Smith says, folding his arms, “and some food. Grilled mahi-mahi, or maybe lobster…”
“About that,” Isami picks up where he’d trailed off, and gestures to the door, “after they left, your Brave Knights planned a huge dinner. Be prepared to eat for two lifetimes once you’re back on base.”
“Alright!” He says, fist-pumping with both hands. He felt good. The world was stretched out before them, new and changed through every fiber. There was a chance, a glimmer of hope, to reach out and carve their own way through.
And they were gonna take it.