"I'll be back for you."

He came to his conclusion three minutes ago, tepid water soaking through his pants and cold, sick fear twisting in his chest. John brushed his thumbs roughly over Dorian's cheekbones, cradling his lolling head in his palms. He leaned forward, pressed his forehead against Dorian's, and hesitated, feeling his breath ghost across still lips.

"We'll save that one for later," he whispered, and he took a deep breath.

"Wait for me."

Before he could change his mind, before he could let himself collapse in Dorian's frozen arms and surrender to the teeming darkness, John twisted away and stumbled to his feet. It was pitch dark, Dorian's light extinguished, and he staggered on with a hand pressed to the wall.

The sound of his panting filled the air, harsh and desperate as he went on. He couldn't feel his feet, his leg, his hip had settled into a dull ache that was nothing to the maw in his heart. He couldn't do this, couldn't lose his partner again. Couldn't lose Dorian.

He had two legs this time, he could still walk. He couldn't carry Dorian- he faltered slightly, stumbling over his own feet- he couldn't carry him...but he was going to save him all the same.

The passage twisted and turned, and he kept his hand on the wall, counting the turns. He had to remember the way, had to remember how to get back to Dorian, because Dorian was counting on him. He'd made a promise and he was going to keep it if it killed him- he tripped and fell sideways against the wall, the impact jolting painfully up his shoulder, and he grimaced uncomfortably before pushing on again.

He raised himself up onto his elbows, coughing up dust and stinking water as the last rumbles of the explosion died away above them. "Dorian?"

It was dark, wherever Dorian had shoved them, and wet. Echoes rang oddly here, and purple spots flared blindingly at the edge of his vision. "Dori-"

"I'm here," Dorian said, from nearby, but something sounded wrong with his voice.

John squinted around, cursing the terrible lighting. "Where are you?"

"Here." Something nudged awkwardly at his ribs, and he realized belatedly that it was Dorian's foot. "John...I think...I don't think I can move too well. Sorry."

"The hell are you sorry for?" John fumbled in his vest pockets, pulling out a flare and holding it up. The light shone cherry red in the gloom, and he stared down at Dorian. "Oh, shit."

"That bad?" Dorian asked weakly.

There was another light strip up ahead, and John paused by it to take his bearings. His legs were shaking beneath him, his feet numb where they splashed in the cold water. His prosthetic made a feeble chirp of complaint, and he rested his hand on it wearily, as if trying to soothe the irate systems. Dorian used to do something similar in the car, reaching over without a word and massaging the joint on a bad day. John closed his eyes now and pretended it was Dorian's hand on him now.

"Should really let me take a look at it for you, John."

"Jackass."

A quicksilver smile, a lingering of fingers on his leg. How had he never noticed?

The air was cold, the water was colder. John went on. Somewhere here, there had to be an exit. His hands scraped over the rough brick walls, searching for the metal chill of a ladder. He listened for an upward draft that indicated a tunnel, vibrations that would mean overhead traffic.

"We'll find a way out," John swore, balancing unsteadily as Dorian flopped at his side.

"John," Dorian began.

"Don't. I'm not leaving you."

A pause. "You should," Dorian said softly.

"Shut it. You don't want to die here, do you?" John took a step forward and Dorian tripped after. There, that wasn't so bad. They could do this.

"No. No, I don't."

His foot met the wall before the rest of his body, and then he was falling backwards with a grunt. A dead end? No, no, that was impossible, it couldn't be-

He rose on his knees, blindly reaching out with throbbing hands.

"I think I love you, John. I just wanted you to know."

A shuddering sigh that wasn't strong enough to be a sob hissed into the air.

"I'm sorry."

He was slipping sideways, and he didn't know up from down in the blackness. He thought he felt hands on his face, on his arms, as his eyes closed, but the lights had disappeared and, in the end, it didn't really matter.