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The long hours are beginning to weigh down on his body. No amounts of adrenaline or somatic gel can alleviate the led that entangles its tendrils with his limbs and teases his eyelids with exhaustion.
He’s tired.
He has been for many, many years now.
The ishimura hadn’t been the beginning, and it wasn’t the end.
Nicole was his everything, and Ellie, though not a replacement, had been a wonderful distraction; she was enough for him to continue pushing just to be alive. But she left, and he felt his exhaustion grow mold and turn his muscles to rot.
Just when he thought, it was done. That he was done, and that Ellie was truly gone:
His door crashed in, and he was held at gunpoint on the ground and thrusted into space.
Now, here he was once again, fighting for his life and running errands for everyone.
Though, this time he was not alone.
It was nice to know that there was an extra set of eyes to watch his six, it was nice to have and extra set of hands to rip the reanimated unholy amalgamations of human flesh attempting to tear your own skin from its core off from your struggling frame.
Carver was a good man and a good soldier at his core.
He’s cold, rough, and closed off. But, so is Isaac. And who is he, the pot, to call the kettle black?
But, when it came to it- Carver didn’t stay by his Captain’s side, nor was he commanded to be by Isaac’s. The man had stuff plaguing his mind, Isaac could tell, but he chose to instead keep his hands busy by aiding Isaac in whatever hunt the others sent him on, or whatever treasure he sniffed out.
Isaac was tired, but he fought to reach that helmet when it was vacced out. He needed to live to see Ellie. Just to hear her speak his name once more, perhaps, to feel her work-calloused palm cradle his cheek, if he so dared to hope.
But, that hope sank heavily like a rock in water when Ellie kissed Robert.
She had moved on.
And Isaac was still tired, and now lacked the motivation to keep going.
He wanted to call it in, to remove his helmet and jump into space.
But no, they needed him. They needed him to recklessly risk his life in an outdated and worn out EVA suit. They sent him all over, collected parts that may be used to repair an old ship so that they can ride it planet side.
He didn’t want to, but he did, because Ellie needed his expertise and grit. And he needed her more than she could ever know.
Carver followed him without order or without room for question. He followed and he helped.
The both of them found each other’s rhythm quick, and filled in for the other’s weak points. They efficiently worked their way through each task, but each task only draining Isaac’s energy more and more and Robert and Ellie were stealing the rest.
It took them about 3 hours to complete the tasks needed, another hour and a half spent investigating a strange transmission Carver picked up (Isaac recognized the signs of a Marker’s influence, but all he could do was continue to ground Carver whenever he spiraled out: hand on the shoulder, pat on the back, quick tap to the face with the back of his hand, talking him through a hallucination, etc…), and another 4 hours to assemble the ship and ensure it wouldn’t immediately blow up on them or implode.
The ship would never, in any universe, pass any saftey regulations, but it could somewhat fly and it held its shape. So good enough as they were gonna get.
Isaac was tired. When all was said and done. Thankfully, ship systems were his specialty- his bread and butter. He knew engines, they were predictable and when the systems were all working as one, they fired and functioned. Even this shitty excuse for a ship engine was still an engine that followed the same principles and any other engine.
When had he gone from being an engineer to being the Marker Killer?
They made him pilot the ship. For some reason. Not the other, trailed and experienced pilots, or the captain over there, but him, the sleep deprived, most likely mentally unstable, ptsd stricken engineer with little piloting experience.
Makes sense.
And of course, the ship crashed.
They lost altitude faster than anticipated (it was, fully expected) and they lost a lot of people in that crash.
Including Ellie.
Isaac had tried to reach for her, and she him.
He had gotten what he wanted- for her to call his name- but not for them to be her last words.
He is tired.
And he hopes this landing kills him.
It doesn’t.
But the few moments he was unconscious were filled with pain.
A headache rushed to the front of his skull, filling the space behind his eyes with pressure. As he allowed his head to rest in the snow for a moment before Carver had rolled him over and forced him to his feet.
Everyone had died. And now, Carver wasn’t going to let them die as well- not yet at least, not before they finished what they came here for.
As Carver led the way, cursing under his breath as they stuck near the fires of what remains of the ship they spent so much energy attempting to fix. Isaac couldn’t help but wonder what the goal really was here.
They needed to turn something off.
But did they know if that would really stop the markers? Stop the religion of unitology from spreading its beliefs across the galaxy?
What good will turning it off do in the long run.
Surely not keep the blood flowing through his toes.
Isaac was tired, and the harsh winds of Tau Volantis threatened to pierce the skin of his face with tiny shards of frost.
He can feel the moisture of his breath freeze into his beard. He can feel the blood on his head freeze and grow tacky like taffy in his hair and across his brow ridge.
They found the other part of the ship, and the message.
Isaac felt life flow through his lungs again, giving him another breath.
He was thrown about like a rag doll, forced to fight necromorphs that were fair beyond what he was acquainted with before.
He was tired. And Buckle had died before him or Carver could fumble with their frozen hands for a medpack.
They snuck past the things in the basement, thanks to Carver’s quick thinking by TKing a few empty cans across the mess hall. Crouching sure did a number on Isaac’s sore and worn joints, but it was worth it for the warmth provided by the new suits.
Isaac rolled his shoulders to test the mobility, and as soon as he could, activated the helmet to cover his face.
Fuck it felt good. He felt protected and warm.
The exhaustion was loud, and his headache grew more apparent as blood finally returned to the tips of his toes and his brain.
He tried a medpack, but the pressure behind his eyes persisted.
His exhaustion had never once slowed him down , but this time it almost killed him as he dangled from the excavator’s door, slipping a few times his foot caught a ledge and he was able to pull himself up. But the door was frozen shut and he didn’t have the energy to ram it open.
Carver was the one to yank that door open, and Isaac leaped with a final burst of effort.
It took him a moment to stand up.
He was tired.
And Carver was growing tired as well, it was made apparent by the way he walked- he dragged his left heel a little more than usual. Plus, he was more agitated.
Grumpier than usual as his snide remarks grew snappy.
And Isaac’s was also beginning to loose his cognitive functions as he was slow to react to a necromorph popping from the ground. It sliced his side grasped his shoulders- as it fought to take Isaac down.
Carver placed the barrel of his rifle into the back of the necromorph and shot a rocket into its spine.
The fucker exploded like confetti, and isaac couldn’t even mutter a thank you- only offering a nod of gratitude instead.
Carver understood and acknowledged it, acknowledged his slumping form and his worsening posture and functions.
They had one last fall, and one last fight before the warmth of a somewhat secure building flooded Isaac’s brain.
Ellie greeted him with a hug- and he almost passed out right then and there.
Then Robert ruined his bliss, and Isaac raised his plasma cutter to his throat.
Carver slapped his arm down before it could twitch.
“With all due respect, Captain. We don’t have time for these childish games of your guys’. There’s shit that needs to be done and now, and we can’t have this team falling apart from the inside.” He shot a glare at Isaac, and one back at Robert who scoffed at the insubordination.
“Childish? Me? That’s all him. I shouldn’t have to-“
“That’s enough!” Ellie shouted, physically putting herself in between everyone. “No more fighting, please.”
Santose finally rose and spoke- they had another objective, and another task to complete.
Isaac wasn’t certain he could survive going outside again, and Carver caught this.
“And we’ll get it done. But Isaac and I need a fucking minute. We’re running on adrenaline and a goddamn prayer.”
Robert’s nose scrunched in annoyance, “ a minute? We don’t have a minute to just- spend causally! We have a job to do, and-“
“We’ve been at this nonstop for fucking hours. Hours, Captain. I’m not asking for a day at the beach, I’m saying we need thirty minutes.”
Before Robert could object or Isaac could process the conversation that had gone on, Carver had guided him away from the captain’s growing presence, and to the door at the far back where he pulled out a Tungsten bar from his RIG, and unlocked the door.
Before going inside- isaac noted the argument that Ellie and Robert were having- it wasn’t a quiet one either- he also saw Santose gather a few data forms and take a seat at the table, using the moment to research a bit more.
The door closed behind them, and Carver quickly cleared the room before disengaging his helmet, Isaac following.
“You look like shit. I can’t have you dragging me down and getting us both killed if you suddenly fall asleep mid fight like a narcoleptic.” And with that, Carver put a timer on his RIG, and then took a seat on the ground against the wall adjacent to the door.
Isaac wasn’t as young and healthy as he was on the Ishimura. He couldn’t handle 10-15 hours of nonstop fighting, bloodshed and gore. So when presented with this half hour of a safe haven- it didn’t take long for Isaac to shuffle his way next to (but a respectable distance from) Carver. Slumping against the wall, his body went limp from exhaustion, and he fully slid to the floor and passed right the fuck out.
If Carver had pushed the timer for an extra 30 minutes, no one (except Robert) complained after they reemerge from the locker room- Isaac, now with an hour of sleep under his belt- walked out feeling a bit more rejuvenated than before.