Inspiration: "Anywhere Is" by Enya

Characters: Reynir

Setting: Dreamworld, speculation

Warnings: Possible/ambiguous character death, discussion of euthanasia

The Dreamworld was beautiful… and empty.

"Hello!" Reynir called, again and again, until his lungs felt ready to burst, receiving no answer. "Onni! Can you hear me? Onni!"

He knew, of course; he knew something had happened, that Onni had done something to save them. It was there, in the wreckage of the battlefield, in Mikkel and Emil's astounded, glassy-eyed stares. To ask seemed so trivial, though; what could Mikkel tell him, except the unimportant details of what he'd already figured out on his own?

To ask Tuuri to translate any of the others' accounts would have been nothing short of cruel.

So Reynir continued to keep silent about things he did not need to know, and focus on what was important. Onni. He needed to know what had happened to Onni. Onni needed to know what had happened to his sister. Maybe he could help, but only if Reynir could find him.

Every night he ventured farther. The water of the endless shallow sea splashed in shocks of crystal ice against his ankles, but Onni's haven, once so close he'd wandered into it by accident more often than not, remained elusive, the threads of its existence seeming to slip from in between his fingers as soon as he thought he finally had a grip on it.

Again and again, Onni had ordered him never to leave his own space. It was dangerous out here; monsters lurked beneath the water.

Onni had told him, once, what would happen if one of them caught him and dragged him into the depths. Without a soul to inhabit it, his body shut down slowly in a sleep from which he could not ever wake, leaving an empty shell to die a slow physical death after the death of his spirit. The people who'd been charged with protecting him would be unable to do anything for him, and he would leave this world without his family ever having known that their brother and son had not died in vain.

Now, Reynir was sure that Onni had been trying to scare him into cooperating. That didn't mean that he had not been speaking the truth.

Reynir hadn't listened to him, even though he probably should have. He certainly wasn't going to start now, not when Onni might be hurt and in need of his help.

The water splashed up in sprays around him and soaked his calves as he ran.

Reynir couldn't use the radio, now. He and Tuuri had to be kept separate, but Tuuri had skills that none of the others did, so Reynir spent his time outside with a mask firmly strapped to his face, helping Mikkel with the laundry or trying to train Kitty, while Tuuri had the run of the tank, scrambling to make repairs while she could and to train a replacement driver. Only when the tank had been thoroughly decontaminated and Tuuri locked away in her quarantine bunk behind the partition was Reynir allowed inside.

Nobody spoke of what they would do once she started to show symptoms.

They talked to each other, sometimes, Reynir sitting with his back against the wall while she whispered her fears in secret. She was the only one who spoke of her fate; wondering whether it was within the scope of the medic's duties or whether Sigrun, as team captain, would consider the responsibility hers. She at least hoped that she would have a say, and that she would still be heard, and that Lalli wouldn't be too sad after she was gone.

Once, she told him that they had radioed Mora after the battle, only to be told that Onni was unconscious and could not be woken and that nobody knew what was wrong with him. She told him that, and then cried half the night.

He would have gotten Lalli to come with him if he could. But Lalli was barely sleeping at all now, throwing himself into his work and spending the rest of his time with Tuuri, snatching only an hour or two at a time—and that never when Reynir was asleep. The one time Reynir did manage to catch him, he barely managed to avoid another tree branch to the face.

So he went alone. He didn't know which way to go; he never had, only letting his instincts guide him as they would.

Sometimes, as he ran, he would look up at the sky, hoping for guidance. It never did him any good, though—the stars were different here, and would not tell him which way to go. That, he would have to figure out on his own.

The farther he went, the more the landscape changed. He didn't notice at first: it was subtle, a slightly warmer breeze blowing past his face, a slightly different kind of rock underneath his feet.

When he slowed, it was not because he had noticed the differences, but because he had finally grown too tired to run. Only then did he stop, and take the time to notice his surroundings.

He was standing on a chunk of land—something like a mage's haven, but barren and without a surrounding barrier. The rock he'd been running on had softened and gone to pieces, turning to sand under his feet, and he hadn't even noticed. His legs ached. Every breath burned in his lungs.

Slowly, Reynir sank down onto the edge of the landmass, letting the ocean lap over his feet. He wrapped his arms around his shins, and buried his face in his knees.

This search was never going to end, was it?

Onni was lost. Tuuri was going to be lost. And here he was, just some stupid farm kid who didn't know what he was doing, banging his head against the same wall over and over again while the world fell apart around him.

At his side, there was a low whine. A head pushed itself under his elbow. Without looking, Reynir lifted his arm to allow the dog to lick his face. A pink tongue bathed his chin once, twice, and then the dog was leaning in against him, pressing its head into his chest. Reynir uncurled from his ball and wrapped his arms around the warm body, burying his face in the soft fur.

He had no idea how long he sat there, fingers tangled deeply in fur while the dog panted and whined in his grip. Eventually, however, it pulled away, and they looked at each other. The dog gave a single bark.

"You're right," he agreed with a sigh. Every time he woke up was a setback—every start, from exactly the same place. If he wanted to go farther, it would have to be now.

Reynir stood, and reached to the sky in a long stretch. He cracked his back. The horizon was as far away as it had been when he'd started.

"Well, we're not going to find Onni by sitting here. Let's go."

If Onni was truly dead, he would find out, one way or another. In the meantime, though, Reynir was never going to find anything unless he looked.

He might only find another horizon—or he might finally reach the place where sky met earth.

A/N: This is the first of my contributions to LooNEY_DAC's Alphabet Soup challenge, and... I kind of hate you right about now. Though not as much as I hate my own brain for insisting on adding the song twist as well.