Title: It's Not the End of the World?
Characters/Pairing: Drakken/Shego
Rating: PG
Summary: Inspired by the FYCD prompt "You are dropped with a nuclear bomb. How do you act before you die?" Only I missed the "die" part and Drakken and Shego survive this, sooo…yeah.

The last cryo-pod receded into its bay with a long, hydraulic hiss. The lights and dials on its control panel came to life, each of them blinking and whirring as the screen above them began spitting out a stream of diagnostic information that probably meant something to Drakken but was cuneiform to her. It didn't matter. The only thing she had to worry about, he'd told her, was the big light at the top of the panel. Green is good, red is dead.Well, not really, but it would be if the pod wasn't removed from the bay before its occupant began to suffocate.

One by one, the lights and dials steadied. The lines of data on the screen petered out, signaling that the machine had reached the end of its diagnostic. Her fingers curled in and out of a fist, her Glow at the ready beneath her skin. The bay was supposed to auto-eject the pod if the initialization process failed, but she'd been burned— both literally and figuratively— by Drakken's inventions too many times to have faith in that.

The big light, which had remained solid yellow throughout the diagnostic, flashed for a few seconds before turning green, heralded by the deep whir of the bay's generator coming online. A single message appeared on the screen now: Cryo-Sleep Successfully Engaged. Entering Standby Mode.

Shego exhaled slowly and let her hand fall to her side as the knots in her stomach slackened. There were four green lights now, part of a row of seven that occupied almost the entire wall of the narrow room. When she touched the doors of the closest bays, their power was a faint, almost static-y thrum against her fingertips.

"Sweet dreams, twerps," she murmured.

There was no answer, of course. Might never be one again. She swallowed thickly and squeezed her eyes shut against a wave of dizziness, then pressed her forehead against the nearest bay to steady herself. After a moment she peeked up to see if the Doc might have wandered in from the bridge, but the hallway was dim and quiet.

When she stopped feeling like she was a breath away from crumpling to the floor, she straightened and smoothed back her hair. She cast one more glance over the row of bays; her eyes lingered on one of the empty ones before she shook her head, then left.

She arrived at the bridge to find it dark, with no sign of Dr. D. Frowning, she stepped further into the room. The emergency lights cast a red glow over the ship's wall-to-wall control console. Everything seemed to be working. She squinted at the various buttons and toggles, then realized that the bridge lights had simply been switched off. As she reached down, a voice to her side said, "Don't."

She jerked and her head spun to the right. Dr. D was slumped in one of the bridge's tall rolling chairs, his head resting listlessly on the chair back. No wonder she hadn't seen him. He was practically a part of the furniture.

"I can hardly see anything," she said.

He stretched his arms out and spread his hands wide before the ship's viewport. "The show's right here."

The Earth filled the view from all sides of the bridge. Hundreds of tiny lights streamed over it like comets, following the earth's curve in either direction. They're beautiful, she thought, in the same breath as, It's really happening. It really, really is.

"I hope he survives," Drakken said, apropos of nothing. Shego blinked at him, uncomprehending. "Your brother."

The dull throb in her head that hadn't left her since the cryo-bay turned into a roar. "I don't. He's an idiot."

"All the same, I hope he does."

"You wouldn't have to hope if he'd just come on the goddamn ship."

Drakken stood, then retrieved a second chair and rolled it to Shego's side. He rested his hand on her shoulder for a heartbeat before returning to his own seat.

She didn't sit so much as her legs buckled, as though her body had grown so rigid and heavy that they could no longer bear her weight. She joined Drakken in staring at the Earth, at the lazy cloud banks drifting over its still blue surface, heedless of the horrors about to rain on them from atmosphere.

"Maybe it's our fault too," she said. She wasn't speaking to Drakken anymore; her voice was so slight that she wasn't even sure she'd spoken aloud. "Maybe we should all be down there. Team Go, together one last time, going out the way we came in: on fire and screaming."

The lights were starting to weave back towards the earth. Their trails lingered for a moment above the clouds before dying out.

Nausea soured her throat; she bowed her head and buried her face in her hands. She felt a touch on her shoulder once more that transitioned to an arm around her back. Drakken's lips brushed her temple, and his warm, solid weight anchored her against the surge of grief and doubt threatening to drag her away.

"You should get in your pod," Drakken said.

She didn't know how much time had passed. She spread her fingers to look out of the viewport, only to see that Drakken had activated the ship's shielding. He flashed her a hollow smile; the control console's faint lights caught the tears in his eyes before he drew away, giving her room to stand.

But she didn't move. Instead, she looked him over as much as the lighting would allow. Everything about him, from his expression to his posture, seemed deflated. Even his worst low points had never looked like this.

"No," she said, finally.

He frowned. "What do you mean?"

"I'm staying out here. Staying up. Whatever you want to call it."

"It's a year, Shego. And you're the one always going on about how much you hate sharing close quarters—"

"Dr. D, you couldn't even look after a poodle. If you think I'm going to commit myself to your care for a year, you really are nuts."

"Now that's not fair!" he began, but she headed him off with a raised finger.

"I'm staying out here. End of discussion."

She gave him a look, and he glared at her for several seconds before understanding bloomed on his features then transitioned into weary gratitude.

"I see," he said. "Well, if you're determined."

She nodded slightly, then turned to the viewport and the smooth, matte back of its shielding, trying and failing not to imagine what the view beyond it looked like now.

"I should show you how everything works, then," Drakken said, startling her. He was staring at his hands, which rested limply on the control console. "What you need to know to monitor the pods, that sort of thing."

The queasy feeling came back. "Right now, Dr. D, I think I just want to sit here for a while."

"Of course."

There was an invitation in his eyes, one she was too exhausted to refuse. She scooted her chair closer to his and rested her head against his shoulder, uncaring of the ache in her side the awkward angle produced. His arm scooped around her once more, drawing her closer.

"Here we are," she said. "The last of us."

"We'll find out soon enough," he murmured.

Then they lapsed into silence, their thoughts a thousand miles below.