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Panic surges within you. Through the haze of anxiety and adrenaline, you’re able to ascertain with a definitive clarity that there’s no escape. You’re treading water, trapped in an enclosed space with no way out. The debris that has collapsed all around you shows no sign of budging, no matter how hard your fists pound against the combination of metal and rocks.
Not to mention, there’s your foot that’s pinned beneath the carnage, keeping you from going up any further despite the water levels rising all around you.
The water is at your neck now, and you feel it lapping at your throat, like a predator about to devour its prey whole. You’re not sure how much longer you can last.
It’s unclear how much time has passed since you’ve been stuck here, and you're not sure if there's anyone coming for you. Your Hunter’s watch was already on its last limbs from all the damage it took earlier, and you had barely managed to send an SOS signal just seconds before it completely shut off. Comms are dead; there’s been nothing but crackling static coming through the device in your left ear. The signal here is abysmal too, which might also mean your teammates won’t be able to pin down the location from your SOS signal in time.
So... this might be it. You know how these things work; how the team will be racing against time to get to you, and how much time that will all take. Time that you're quickly running out of.
You feel it first in your limbs. Fire burning in your veins, exhaustion building with each additional stroke in the water to keep yourself afloat. There's a scorching heat in the back of your throat as you gasp for air, increasingly so as the water level draws dangerously close to your chin. You're starting to get lightheaded too; probably from dehydration and fatigue or a combination of both.
Your mind flashes to the people you're leaving behind. The classic life-flashing-before-your-eyes moment. It isn't the first time. You've already experienced this many times before; your line of work isn't exactly cushy. The small spark of hope for a miracle that you had left in you has long gone out, after evaluating the situation for what it is: completely, and utterly, hopeless.
Your thoughts trail to your teammates, who will be blaming themselves endlessly for failing to reach you in time. Jenna, Tara, Simone, Nero... At least they'll know what to do after this. Everyone has letters to be dispatched to their loved ones if they were to die in the line of duty.
Naturally, you're no exception to that.
In your case, you know exactly who your letter will be sent to.
He's probably asleep at the moment. Last you checked your watch, it was almost noon. Even though it feels like days have passed, realistically you know it should probably still be afternoon. Right smack in the middle of his undisturbed bedtime.
Well, hopefully he's having sweet dreams. Because he's not going to be happy when he sees your letter, probably.
Your chest constricts at the thought of him. Not from a lack of air; but from a distinct ache that has your throat closing up too, as tears gather in the back of your tired eyes.
Sylus. A ragged whisper of his name drags past your wet lips, disappearing into the air. You were supposed to meet him this weekend. Something about a new pistol model and new modifications to his bike that he wanted to show you. Any excuse to entice you to visit him, even though he should know by now that you don’t need a reason to want to see him. He’s reason enough; far more than enough.
Looks like you won’t be able to make it for that anymore. Or the auction the week after, or the dress fitting appointment that he had booked for you a couple days prior to that; he had custom ordered a dress for you to match with his suit for the auction. When you asked him why there was a need for it, he had merely shrugged.
“Why not?”
You chuckle at the memory. Silly Sylus. You have no need for designer dresses, or the expensive jewellery to go with them. But he showers you with the gifts anyway, always citing, “Why not?”, as if that’s the answer to the mysteries of this world.
You hear it then. Static, crackling in your ear, but this time there’s a distinct shape of a familiar voice forming through that.
“…ten… Ki… tten…”
There’s really only one person who would ever call you by that ridiculous nickname. Ridiculous because you consider yourself more of a tiger or a lion — or something suitably ferocious — instead of a tiny, harmless cat.
The static gradually clears, like fog bending in the wind.
“Hey, can you hear me? Answer me, please.”
“Sylus. Sylus! I’m here. Can you hear—“
“Oh thank fuck.” It stuns you briefly; he rarely cusses. Not because he takes issue with speaking coarsely, but because he hardly ever needs to. His voice is gruff, now laced with relief. “You’re okay.”
“Wouldn’t say that,” you mutter. “I’m… close to drowning.”
“Where are you?”
You wish you had a more helpful answer for him. “I don’t know,” you admit. “I was knocked out, and when I woke up I found myself in… some kind of basement. I was trying to find a way out, when the place blew up. And now it’s filling up with water, and—” You cut yourself off, taking in a shaky breath. “I don’t have much time left.”
“Kieran, check her watch. There should be a signal.”
“It’s dead,” you interject. “I sent an SOS signal out just before it died though.”
“We’ll check,” he says, at the same time that you hear a, “On it, boss!”
“Sylus.”
“It’s okay. Save your energy; we’re coming to get you.”
You want to ask him how he hacked into your comms system. Why he’s even awake at this hour. How he knew that you were in trouble.
But you don’t have much time left to speak; the water’s about to reach your lips now. Despite having renewed hope of being saved, you can’t shrug off the what-ifs. What if he doesn’t make it in time? What if this is the last time you can ever speak to him?
What if… you never get the chance to be honest with him?
“Sylus, I— I have to tell you something.”
“Later.”
“I might not have later.”
“Have some faith in me. I promise I’ll get you out of there, wherever you are. Can’t afford to miss those weekend plans we made.”
You crack a smile, despite the situation. But it slips away quickly.
“It’s not you… I don’t know how much longer I can hang in there.” Your head is starting to sink, the circles you’re drawing in the water becoming slower. Smaller. At this rate, you’ll go under without the water even having to rise.
“You can do it, kitten. You’re the strongest Hunter I know.”
“The only one.”
“My statement stands.”
Your smile is weak. “But Sylus, just in case.”
“There’s no need for that.”
“But—”
His voice rises sharply. “Losing you isn’t an option. I won’t let it happen.”
As much as you understand the sentiment, your tears begin to fall freely. The water has reached your bottom lip. You have to tip your head back, facing the dark, grimy ceiling, to keep the water from entering your mouth.
“If I don’t make it, don’t blame yourself.”
“You will—”
This time, it’s your turn to cut him off.
“Also, I’ve been meaning to tell you something for a long time now.”
“Why now? I’m coming to get you. You won’t have to wait long.”
A familiar, cryptic response rises to your tongue, and your lips curve into a smirk.
“Why not?”
He goes quiet. Hopefully, because he’s laughing at the reference. Or maybe not.
“Sorry I’m only saying this now. I guess… I just couldn’t find the courage for it before.”
You find yourself hesitating, like you usually do when you feel tempted to speak your mind to Sylus. While riding pillion on his bike. While listening to him sing an off-key lullaby over the phone. When he spars with you in his home gym, pinning you to the floor and your noses are no more than an inch apart.
The water is now as far as it goes; your head can’t tip back any further.
No more stalling: you’ve run out of time.
“I think I have feelings for you. I don’t know when it began, but… you’re the best thing that’s happened to me.”
A pause, and then you add with an air of finality, because you’re afraid he didn’t get it the first time:
“I love you.”
The words come out in a shuddering gasp, right before the water silences you for good.
You hear him yelling into the phone. Shouting your name. Asking you to say something. Anything.
But you can no longer speak. And soon, you won’t be able to breathe. The water is close to your nose now. You want to tell him that you’ll wait for him. That it’ll be okay. That you’ll still be here, when he comes for you.
You wish you could believe that.
You take your final breath. A long, deep inhale, before the world goes quiet, the water in your ears shutting the communication device down. His voice is no longer in your ear, and your eyes slip shut. The darkness closes in on you as you wait. And wait. And wait.
Each second grows more unbearable than the next, as your remaining air dwindles and gradually thins out.
Until there’s no more.
This is probably where you lose consciousness, and where the darkness consumes you whole. You know you should be fighting to stay awake until Sylus comes, but everything hurts. Now that you’ve stopped fighting to stay afloat, you feel like you can’t move a muscle anymore. You just want to rest now.
But the universe won’t grant you that. Not even in your dying moments.
A deafening explosion resounds through your ears, and you feel the force of it rippling through the waters encasing you. There’s light against the back of your closed lids, but the weight of the water pressure keeps you from opening them.
Something strikes the debris over your foot, and immediately you feel lighter as the weight keeping you down disappears. Fragments of rocks and glass brush past your calf. Then something grabs you: hands — one on your arm, the other on your waist — pulling you to something study. The one on your arm moves to your back, pressing you close to that firm, warm wall, as your body is hauled up to the surface with strength that doesn’t belong to you.
You break through the surface, and sound floods your ears once more. As you choke out water and heave in lungfuls of air, you’re acutely aware of the sounds of gunfire being traded, the faint roars of wanderers, and the palms that have come to rest on either side of your face.
When your eyes finally open, you find yourself staring into a pair of red irises, glistening like rubies. You see his naked rage, relief and sorrow all at once, in those pools of red. So beautiful, and so precious.
Tears begin to form once more, having truly believed you’d never see him again. You’re not sure what you expected him you say. Maybe you thought he would berate you for doubting him for even a second.
For some reason, you don’t expect what comes next.
“I love you too.”
There’s no water in your ears, no crackling static to give you any reason to doubt your hearing now.
“R-Really?” Your voice is small, throat dry and raw from dehydration and from the coughing earlier.
His thumb brushes against your cheek, the soft and tender motion sending a swarm of butterflies into your stomach.
“Why would I lie about something like that?”
“Why not?” The joke comes out on reflex, and the tension breaks as chuckles resound in the small space between you.
Then they fade, and you feel him pulling your face closer to his, while he ducks down, leaning into you.
Your hand rests against his chest, stopping him.
“Are you sure we have time for this?” you ask him rhetorically, gesturing vaguely in the direction from which the sounds of fighting and gunfire can be heard. You can imagine the twins and Mephisto barely hanging on without their boss in action. Worse still, getting injured in the process. You need to hurry over to help them.
Sylus doesn’t share your concern. He flashes you a reassuring smile, as his forehead comes to rest on yours, and the tips of your noses touch.
An easy, breathy reply comes. One that has you melting and giving into the fiercely sweet kiss that follows.
“Why not? We have all the time in the world now.”