Author's Note: Spoilers for episode 12 of Glühen. Yes, Youji doesn't die, as evidenced by episode 13, but Aya doesn't know that yet, does he now. In my continuity, at least.

scenes from the first day of the rest of their lives

"I'll be waiting."

The sun rises quietly, the first soft rays breaking hesitantly over the green hill, smudging the shadows of the burning rubble below.

Perhaps it is the light that finally does it, making it harder to pretend that flashes of movement are anything more than a trick of the smoke, showing too clearly the finality of the wrecked building, the heaviness of crumbled walls; either way something breaks inside him then, but it is dull and almost painless, like a small soft voice inside him going "Oh." Just that, a vague not-quite-exclamation, followed soon by the almost familiar acceptance. He knows with an equally cold certainty there will be nothing to find even if he goes back down into the ruins. They had been in the basement, after all, and that is now well buried under a few storeys of concrete and metal, taking with it the remnants of the Koua mission.

The sky is blue - the sky is always so damned blue - and the grass is green and the air is fresh and clear and barely touched by the thick heaviness of ash and charred metal. He feels a brief twist of relief, suddenly; he lets the feeling sink in, numbing but not numbing enough. Feels the guilt building up behind it like acid in his veins.

Relief that it is over, or...?

The thought is not worth pursuing. He lets his gaze drop, finally, turns away from the still-smoking building. The sun is growing brighter steadily, the sky awash in paler shades of blue.

It is almost ironic, he thinks, how the only sunrises he watches are those commemorating the dead.

Two rings; three, four, and then a click.

"Rex."

"Abyssinian?"

"Where's Ken?"

"Takaya Hospital. 3-104. Is Balinese - "

Click.

The dial tone, impassive and unreadable.

"I was - I was thinking," Ken starts talking the moment Aya opens the door, even before Aya's footsteps can break the silence, but his eyes are fixed firmly on the ceiling. "About that kid. Sena. He was a good kid, you know? Didn't deserve - any of this."

"Ken."

"Stupid, yeah, and careless, but dammit, he was a good kid." When Aya reaches the side of the bed Ken still hasn't moved, and his voice is more hurried and loud and deliberate than when he had begun, as though seeking to cover some unwanted sound; or the absence thereof. "Shouldn't have - shouldn't have died. Dammit."

"Ken - "

"He's dead. Isn't he?" Ken's voice is suddenly quiet, dangerously empty, but he turns his head finally, looks up with eyes wide and angry and desperate, searching Aya's gaze. One look is enough; he turns back to the ceiling. Neither of them speak until Ken breaks the silence again, just briefly. "Idiot. Fucking idiot." And softer: "Didn't deserve to die."

Aya closes his eyes and feels his jaw tighten and thinks: No - Kyou didn't deserve it, and Asami definitely didn't, and neither did Sena, but the three of them, the three left of Weiss - how could Ken be so sure -

And then: But it doesn't matter, because Youji's dead -

And almost like a betrayal: - and whether he deserved it or not -

Ken is staring upwards, but at something far away, so he does not notice the slight movement beside the bed as Aya brings one trembling hand to his eyes.

Two rings.

Click.

"Rex."

"...Aya."

"I apologise." A pause. "Balinese is - "

"It's okay. We know."

"...ah."

"We're sorry." A pause, only long enough to be tactful. "That was your last mission. You know what this means."

"I understand."

"Thank you."

Click.

Aya puts down the phone and realises, once again, that there is nowhere left to go.

He goes back to visit Ken that evening. Kritiker is kind enough to give them a week to clear out from the Koneko, he tells the other man. Ken laughs haltingly at the news, but soon breaks off in pain, and his eyes hold only a glimmer of dark amusement.

For a while there is silence. Aya wonders what he will bring with him when he leaves. The katana was a new one, meant to take the place of - but never replace - the one that had shattered two years ago, and he never did get quite used to it. He supposes, not without irony, that that is one less thing to mourn, one less choice he will have to make about leaving things behind.

Ken speaks, voice oddly hollow in the quiet hospital room: "How do you start?"

Aya knows what he means and doesn't know how to answer. He wants to say something about postponing grief and how things dim and finding that you can't cry anymore, but he doesn't because he can't and because he knows Ken doesn't expect an answer.

"He would know," he hears himself say anyway, words tinged with a desperate humour. Ken laughs again, against the pain this time, until Aya cannot tell whether or not he is crying. When Ken stops he is slightly pale, and he leans a little further back against the pillow.

"He would, wouldn't he." That quiet voice again, shakier but almost distant. "You'd think all of us would, really." He doesn't laugh this time, though he does half-smile at Aya, eyes sad but clear.

Aya knows Ken is right, that he should know by now. He has, after all, had a lot of experience being the survivor. Something inside him wants to laugh, bitter but far from blind - not in despair, like Ken, but at the ironic clarity of it all.

And he thinks that, perhaps, something in him has always known how it was going to end.

Ash and blood and fire. His eyes are quiet and maybe laughing; he looks straight up at them as he speaks. Locks gazes with them in turn. Smiles, almost sadly.

"I'm...Weiss."

Almost a smile; Aya's not sure why, but it seems the right thing to do, and the words that follow, however unbidden, seem the right ones to say.

"I'll be waiting."

And the world crumbles around them.