Heroes-Peter Gabriel feat.(original by David Bowie)

"Though nothing, nothing can keep us together... we can beat them, forever and ever... we could be heroes, just for one day..."


Allison gasped as Light flooded through her.

"Thank goodness!" D'Artagnan's form became clearer. "I was afraid for a few moments, there..."

"It'll take more than a nasty fall." she grunted, rolling onto her side. She winced as pain shot through her. Afterwounds. That was what it wall called when a chosen was injured so badly, some of the wound lingered after revival. Judging by the extent of her pain, she must have shattered every bone in her body when she hit the ground. She would heal fast, but she kept her movements slow just in case.

"Can you hail Kitty or Faust?" she asked, looking up, straining her ears. She thought she could hear Timur's screaming, but she also thought it might just be echoes of her memories before falling. She rubbed her right forearm, where that... shapeless thing had grabbed her. She grit her teeth as a burning sensation speared the area.

"No, I can't reach either of them. Saladin'll be getting Timur out of here, though. We should try to find a way back up." D'Art suggested. "But you need to rest first; I wasn't able to heal everything."

"I'll say." She muttered grimly, holding up her arm. She formed a flame of void in her other hand to provide light, and her Ghost floated closer to better examine the wound. Her armor had been, dare she say melted, and her flesh was blackened. She grimaced. This is definitely going to leave a mark...

Which could not be said for most wounds a chosen received.

"That's dark." her companion said. "The sooner we get back and have that treated, the better."

"No kidding." she said dryly, eyes scanning the cliffs. She couldn't even see where she fell from, it could take days to climb that high, and she was no expert at rock climbing; that was Orwing's special obsession, not hers.

The screech of a vex somewhere in the distance. She and D'Art looked into the mist, and she placed one hand on her knife, which was mercifully intact. She put out the void flame, and drew her weapon.

"I think hiding may soon take a priority over escaping." she told her Ghost. He made a sort of nodding motion, then vanished. Soon, so did she.


Allison whet her best knife absentmindedly. She did not know what day it was. She didn't know how long she had been here, or how the vex had even managed it.

Some days after she fell, she had found herself captured, or so she thought. She had gotten away, or so she thought. But it was like she was trapped in a room.

"I'm working on it! I'll have it all figured out soon!" D'Art assured her. He was ten feet away from her. Physically, there was nothing blocking him from coming to her. But she couldn't reach him, and he couldn't reach her, not without being trapped as well. At least, that was how he had described it.

That room she was trapped in, was actually a time loop. She'd been told she sat here time and time again, always for fifteen minutes, always sharpening her knife, thinking. About what, he hadn't said. She assumed 'about Timur', because that was who she was thinking about right now. Specifically, when he'd been lost. Or rather close to it, after he was first revived. The newly-reborn Warlock had seemed to be stuck in a loop himself.

At least in that village, he'd seemed to find himself eventually...

Timur had long stopped shivering, though his face was still buried in her shoulder, and his arms were still wrapped tight around her. Hypothermia, perhaps. As usual, the cold didn't bother her. She flexed her shoulders as they approached the village, and he gave a frightened start, hands leaving her waist and perhaps flying to his chest. Which they did, she could feel.

"It's just a phantom pain." she told him matter-of-factly. "The first time's always the roughest. You'll get used to it."

Another shudder. He would have to get used to the concept of regular death; it was already easy to get killed out here, and avoiding deathtraps tended to become harder once you were impervious to death. Timur resumed his deathgrip on her, and she scanned the village with hawk-like eyes, searching for a place to stay the night.

There was a monastery. Her mouth quirked upwards. A Catholic monastery. Those were hard to come by, even if more and more people turned to the religion as the days grew darker. Her right hand automatically moved towards the pack on her belt; the only thing of note she'd been revived with was a rosary. She always wondered if she still counted as a person, or if her soul had long gone and she was just a husk. Either way, whomever she'd been in the past, her faith had meant something to her. It wasn't the worst connection she could have to her past.

With any luck, the nuns and/or monks within the stone building would have room for two more; she had no doubt they were the only travelers to have to take up bed there.

"How do you?" Timur asked as she pulled the horse to a stop. She twisted to look him in the eyes, though it was hard to in the dark. His face was covered, matted in mud, and his eyes were dark, both because of the lighting and because of the pain, the anxiety, the terror and exhaustion in their depths. He'd set out to help Ghosts; not become a Chosen himself.

"You soldier on." The look didn't fade. He would be an empty man for the next few days, living mechanically at her direction. But in the end... he would do just that.

"Soldier on." she murmured to herself. It was what she'd told the man that would become her husband, all those decades ago, and it was what he would tell her to do now. So she would. She would soldier on.

"I know." D'Art replied, even though she hadn't been talking to him. The scream of what had to be a massive vex startled her out of her reverie. She stashed her whetting block quickly, and sheathed her knife.

"Run, Allison!" D'Art insisted. So she ran. She ran and-


Allison whet her best knife absentmindedly. She did not know what day it was. She didn't know how long she had been here, or how the vex had even managed it.

Some days after she fell, she had found herself captured, or so she thought. She had gotten away, or so she thought. But it was like she was trapped in a room.

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry it's taking so long." D'Art assured her, though he sounded unsure himself. He was ten feet away from her. Physically, there was nothing blocking him from coming to her. But she couldn't reach him, and he couldn't reach her, not without being trapped as well. At least, that was how he had described it.

That room she was trapped in, was actually a time loop. She'd been told she sat here time and time again, always for fifteen minutes, always sharpening her knife, thinking. About what, he hadn't said. She assumed 'about Timur', because that was who she was thinking about right now. Specifically, when he'd been lost. Or rather close to it, after he was first revived. The newly-reborn Warlock had seemed to be stuck in a loop himself.

At least in that village, he'd seemed to find himself eventually...

Timur had long stopped shivering, though his face was still buried in her shoulder, and his arms were still wrapped tight around her. Hypothermia, perhaps. As usual, the cold didn't bother her. She flexed her shoulders as they approached the village, and he gave a frightened start, hands leaving her waist and perhaps flying to his chest. Which they did, she could feel.

"It's just a phantom pain." she told him matter-of-factly. "The first time's always the roughest. You'll get used to it."

Another shudder. He would have to get used to the concept of regular death; it was already easy to get killed out here, and avoiding deathtraps tended to become harder once you were impervious to death. Timur resumed his deathgrip on her, and she scanned the village with hawk-like eyes, searching for a place to stay the night.

There was a monastery. Her mouth quirked upwards. A Catholic monastery. Those were hard to come by, even if more and more people turned to the religion as the days grew darker. Her right hand automatically moved towards the pack on her belt; the only thing of note she'd been revived with was a rosary. She always wondered if she still counted as a person, or if her soul had long gone and she was just a husk. Either way, whomever she'd been in the past, her faith had meant something to her. It wasn't the worst connection she could have to her past.

With any luck, the nuns and/or monks within the stone building would have room for two more; she had no doubt they were the only travelers to have to take up bed there.

"How do you?" Timur asked as she pulled the horse to a stop. She twisted to look him in the eyes, though it was hard to in the dark. His face was covered, matted in mud, and his eyes were dark, both because of the lighting and because of the pain, the anxiety, the terror and exhaustion in their depths. He'd set out to help Ghosts; not become a Chosen himself.

"You soldier on." The look didn't fade. He would be an empty man for the next few days, living mechanically at her direction. But in the end... he would do just that.

"Soldier on." she murmured to herself. It was what she'd told the man that would become her husband, all those decades ago, and it was what he would tell her to do now. So she would. She would soldier on.

"I know." D'Art replied with a heaved sigh, even though she hadn't been talking to him. The scream of what had to be a massive vex startled her out of her reverie. She stashed her whetting block quickly, and sheathed her knife.

"Go, Allison! I'll see you in the next loop!" D'Art insisted. So she ran. She ran and-


Allison whet her best knife absentmindedly. She did not know what day it was. She didn't know how long she had been here, or how the vex had even managed it.

Some days after she fell, she had found herself captured, or so she thought. She had gotten away, or so she thought. But it was like she was trapped in a room.

"I'm doing my best, but... oh, Allison, I'm so sorry this is happening..." D'Artagnan sounded completely dejected. He was ten feet away from her. Physically, there was nothing blocking him from coming to her. But she couldn't reach him, and he couldn't reach her, not without being trapped as well. At least, that was how he had described it. Oh, she wished she could reach him! He sounded like he could use the comfort, to be certain.

That room she was trapped in, was actually a time loop. She'd been told she sat here time and time again, always for fifteen minutes, always sharpening her knife, thinking. About what, he hadn't said. She assumed 'about Timur', because that was who she was thinking about right now. Specifically, when he'd been lost. Or rather close to it, after he was first revived. The newly-reborn Warlock had seemed to be stuck in a loop himself.

At least in that village, he'd seemed to find himself eventually...

Timur had long stopped shivering, though his face was still buried in her shoulder, and his arms were still wrapped tight around her. Hypothermia, perhaps. As usual, the cold didn't bother her. She flexed her shoulders as they approached the village, and he gave a frightened start, hands leaving her waist and perhaps flying to his chest. Which they did, she could feel.

"It's just a phantom pain." she told him matter-of-factly. "The first time's always the roughest. You'll get used to it."

Another shudder. He would have to get used to the concept of regular death; it was already easy to get killed out here, and avoiding deathtraps tended to become harder once you were impervious to death. Timur resumed his deathgrip on her, and she scanned the village with hawk-like eyes, searching for a place to stay the night.

There was a monastery. Her mouth quirked upwards. A Catholic monastery. Those were hard to come by, even if more and more people turned to the religion as the days grew darker. Her right hand automatically moved towards the pack on her belt; the only thing of note she'd been revived with was a rosary. She always wondered if she still counted as a person, or if her soul had long gone and she was just a husk. Either way, whomever she'd been in the past, her faith had meant something to her. It wasn't the worst connection she could have to her past.

With any luck, the nuns and/or monks within the stone building would have room for two more; she had no doubt they were the only travelers to have to take up bed there.

"How do you?" Timur asked as she pulled the horse to a stop. She twisted to look him in the eyes, though it was hard to in the dark. His face was covered, matted in mud, and his eyes were dark, both because of the lighting and because of the pain, the anxiety, the terror and exhaustion in their depths. He'd set out to help Ghosts; not become a Chosen himself.

"You soldier on." The look didn't fade. He would be an empty man for the next few days, living mechanically at her direction. But in the end... he would do just that.

"Soldier on." she murmured to herself. It was what she'd told the man that would become her husband, all those decades ago, and it was what he would tell her to do now. So she would. She would soldier on.

"I wish you would stop saying that." D'Art replied, sounding irritated, shell twisting, even though she hadn't been talking to him. The scream of what had to be a massive vex startled her out of her reverie. She stashed her whetting block quickly, and sheathed her knife.

"Run!" D'Art insisted. So she ran. She ran and-


Allison whet her best knife absentmindedly. She did not know what day it was. She didn't know how long she had been here, or how the vex had even managed it.

Some days after she fell, she had found herself captured, or so she thought. She had gotten away, or so she thought. But it was like she was trapped in a room.

D'Artagnan floated in silence somewhere beyond, having insisted that they maintain at least a ten foot distance from each other in order to prevent him from falling into the loop as well. Upon his return, he'd flashed sever pieces of vex junk into existence, adding to a growing collection hidden by some nearby boulders.

That room she was trapped in, was actually a time loop. She'd been told she sat here time and time again, always for fifteen minutes, always sharpening her knife, thinking. About what, he hadn't said. She assumed 'about Timur', because that was who she was thinking about right now. Specifically, when he'd been lost. Or rather close to it, after he was first revived. The newly-reborn Warlock had seemed to be stuck in a loop himself.

At least in that village, he'd seemed to find himself eventually...

Timur had long stopped shivering, though his face was still buried in her shoulder, and his arms were still wrapped tight around her. Hypothermia, perhaps. As usual, the cold didn't bother her. She flexed her shoulders as they approached the village, and he gave a frightened start, hands leaving her waist and perhaps flying to his chest. Which they did, she could feel.

"It's just a phantom pain." she told him matter-of-factly. "The first time's always the roughest. You'll get used to it."

Another shudder. He would have to get used to the concept of regular death; it was already easy to get killed out here, and avoiding deathtraps tended to become harder once you were impervious to death. Timur resumed his deathgrip on her, and she scanned the village with hawk-like eyes, searching for a place to stay the night.

There was a monastery. Her mouth quirked upwards. A Catholic monastery. Those were hard to come by, even if more and more people turned to the religion as the days grew darker. Her right hand automatically moved towards the pack on her belt; the only thing of note she'd been revived with was a rosary. She always wondered if she still counted as a person, or if her soul had long gone and she was just a husk. Either way, whomever she'd been in the past, her faith had meant something to her. It wasn't the worst connection she could have to her past.

With any luck, the nuns and/or monks within the stone building would have room for two more; she had no doubt they were the only travelers to have to take up bed there.

"How do you?" Timur asked as she pulled the horse to a stop. She twisted to look him in the eyes, though it was hard to in the dark. His face was covered, matted in mud, and his eyes were dark, both because of the lighting and because of the pain, the anxiety, the terror and exhaustion in their depths. He'd set out to help Ghosts; not become a Chosen himself.

"You soldier on." The look didn't fade. He would be an empty man for the next few days, living mechanically at her direction. But in the end... he would do just that.

"Soldier on." she murmured to herself. It was what she'd told the man that would become her husband, all those decades ago, and it was what he would tell her to do now. So she would. She would soldier on.

"SHUT UP!" D'Artagnan practically screamed, even though she hadn't been talking to him. She looked up at him with surprise as he continued on, practically sobbing. "Just SHUT UP! Stop SAYING THAT!"

The scream of what had to be a massive vex startled her out of her reverie. She stashed her whetting block quickly, and sheathed her knife.

"Just ignore that." D'Art said without emotion, turning back to the piece of vex tech he'd been scanning. So she sighed, wishing he would talk to her more, crossing her arms and leaning back against the rock. If it was safe as he said, she might as well catch a nap-


"Fel, do you have any rope?" the Titan in great, strange armor from the top of the cliff asked one of his companions. Allison had run into them by shear chance while looking for D'Artagnan, whom she'd lost about three hours ago after fleeing from a battle from a strange vex.

"We don't have time for this." another voice from above insisted in frustration. "This could be a vex trick!"

"Alder, we can't just leave her." the Titan shot back. "And if she's a vex trick, it's the most convincing one I've ever seen."

"Vex can't simulate Guardians." another voice pointed out. That peaked Allison's interest. Guardians? What does that mean?

"I assure you, I'm no vex trick. I've been stuck down here for days." she told them. The six-man team of chosen, who didn't appear to be aligned with the Iron Lords, had completely caught her by surprise. Even more surprising? How well-armed they seemed to be. The Iron Lords were lucky to have a few auto rifles, and a couple of old revolvers laying around. These Chosen? They were all armed to the teeth with weaponry of all kinds, some of which she didn't recognize. Their armor was shining, pristine, and they were well-covered in it.

And it didn't look like old metal, either. It looked like, dare she say, plasteel.

They were all gathered on a cliff that was several several meters up, and too steep for her to climb, and too high for any of the other chosen to jump back up, even Light-assisted, while carrying cargo.

"We can't afford to be weighed down!" another Titan joined his fellow at the edge of the cliff. "Atheon will die today. How well can you fight after days with no food or water, without your Ghost?"

"Well enough to kill you." she replied dryly. "Or several hundred vex. I'll kill a thousand if I have to. I promise, I won't endanger any kind of mission you're on. In fact, I may very well benefit it."

"And how might you do that?" he challenged. She lifted her hand, letting void curl around it.

"I have... ways." she said, smiling as he eyed the void, looking surprised.

"A Nightstalker." he nodded. Hmm? Has Timur's name for these powers spread that quickly? True, he'd coined that term decades ago while she was training Perun, but she hadn't expected other Chosen to actually use it for at least another century...

"Fel, get some rope." the Titan with the attitude ordered, before looking back down on her. "And you- what's your name, and how did you get in here by yourself?"

"I'm-"


"Allison, this way!" She jumped, pulling her bow in the direction of D'Art's voice before letting it fade, feeling relief wash over her.

"D'Art..." she strode towards him.

"No! Don't come any closer, stay at least ten feet away from me." her Ghost's voice was strained, erratic. His shell was dirty, damaged, weathered like he was decades, nay, centuries older. "And follow me."

"D'Artagnan, what's going on?" she ordered. "What happened to you, I've been worried sick!"

"It's a time loop." Her Ghost blurted out. She swore, there was an insane laugh somewhere in his voice, like someone he'd spent too long in solitary confinement. "Don't ask me how, that 'Atheon' vex did it while were were fighting it. But I found a way out. Keep up, there's not much time. You spent too long dawdling the last five loops, and you missed it. Then the other thing happened."

"D'Art, what are you talking about? What other thing?" she pressed, following her twitchy Ghost through the maze of rocks. "How long have you been here? How long has this been happening?"

"The Light is gone. Something happened. Something bad. I was out for hours." he said, stopping to hover over a large boulder, agonizingly out of her reach. "I think it's been a few centuries. But I'm not sure; I lost count sometime after two hundred."

"Two hundred..." she felt herself pale, eyes fixed on her Ghost. "D'Art..."

"I'm fine, really. I know so much about the vex now, Allison! I've even tricked them into thinking I'm one of them!" he sounded... excited. And she felt like she might be sick. "Talking to Praedyth was nice, while he lasted. Oh, and there's another Ghost in the network, too! Happened a few years ago, gave itself a username- funny one, too. 'You'reWelcome2'. Hehe. Come on!"

"D'Artagnan, if the Light is gone, why can I still..." she looked down at her fist, letting void unfurl between her fingers.

"Because, you were separate. You're in a loop. Nothing from the outside of it can affect you. Picture it as a room; the only way in is to open the door. A door locked from the outside. You can't get out. But if you have the key, you can open the door. I found a key; I can let you out." His voice turned to an excited whisper before he zipped over to a vex gate. "I just need you to take those glorious thumbs of yours, and do everything I tell you with this... no, this stuff!"

With a pulse, piles of vex parts and various junk clattered to the ground. She took it all in.

"Did you..." she pointed at a vex head. There were other body parts mixed in as well. And vex weren't clumsy enough to drop dead on their own accord. "Did you... kill vex?"

"One or two." there undeniable pride in his voice. "Once I figured out how. Buuuuut, then this big grumpy team of Chosen burst in, and then more came, more often! I swear, there's two wondering somewhere around her right now! Came out of this gate right here, that's how I found it. But anyway, I took parts from the bodies they left behind while they did their thing. Never even saw me!"

"You didn't think to ask for help!?" She yelled. She swore, he flinched right into the ground, or deeper.

"Hey, I've spent centuries trying to save you! And they did try to help! Every single person that's been in here has tried to help!" he was sobbing frantically now. "But the loop just reset! The Chosen who came through here got caught in it! I can't even find them! I tried to help! For the first century, I tried to help. But you. Wouldn't. Remember. And then you'd be gone. Just... just do what I say, Allison. Please. I want to go, I want to go home."

So she did as he said. And by the end of it, he activated the gate.

"You'll probably end up where those Chosen came from. But it will break the loop. I've been directing the local vex mind on the other side to prepare for your arrival; it'll think you're one of it, but not for long." he told her.

"What about the other Chosen?" she couldn't leave someone in the same hell-hole she'd been trapped in for days-no, centuries, D'Art said centuries.

"They're dead. Haven't seen em' since they first interacted with you. Either they're spending their loop hiding, or they're dead. Probably dead. Yup, definitely dead; just did a local scan. So yes, They're dead. VERY DEAD!" he ranted.

"Okay." she sighed. She wanted to go home, too. But... centuries? For the first time, she considered what that might mean. That it might mean Timur had moved on, and the thought made her heart break. Why would he still be waiting for a woman he'd thought dead for centuries? He wouldn't. Nobody would. She reached down her armor, and pulled out the ring she wore dangling form her neck. It wouldn't fit on her finger when she was wearing armor. She rubbed it, the lump in her throat growing.

"D'Art..." she rasped.

"GO!" he shouted suddenly, focused on something behind her. She whirled, and saw vex. "GO NOW! GET OUT, ALLY! RUN!"

So she ran. She ran and-

The world pulled at her, a sudden feeling like nothing she'd ever felt before. It was like an extreme variation of the feeling one got while on an elevator(she'd only been on one once, though, so she couldn't say it was true for all elevators), and then the landscape changed in an instance.

"D'Art!" she called, turning and twisting, seeking him out. "D'Art? D'Artagnan!?"

A glowing red eye caught her gaze... and she pulled her bow as a massive vex loomed over her.


Okay, so, write heartbreaking chapter while listening to 'Song of Stars': check. Destabilize D'Artagnan: Checkaroo. Converg evens with the end of last chapter so Asher's dream makes a little more sense: Check as well.

Now, if you excuse me... I need to cry a little. Because this song... is just too sad... and so is this chapter! They seem to fit perfectly!

jsm1978: Thanks! Actually, my headcanon is that lost memories have more to do with time of death than the actually act of becoming a Guardian. Timur was only dead for a few moments, so there wasn't a whole lot of memory deterioration. Ah, thanks for pointing those out. Um, what chapter was the vex thing in? And where? There are so many feaking line about the vex...(proceeds to spell 'freaking' wrong in a reply to someone pointing out a typo. Bravo, Sarcasm, Bravo.)

Jayfeattheris Awesome: He'd as cranky as an onion; Asher deserves layers. And I'm glad you like Clary! She's kind of the 'sweet' member of the team who can get away with pretty much anything. Including giving Asher Mir a nickname.

alienraptor: The next chapter, has arrived.*bows*

SpecterXCove: Good review.(I can see we're playing the 'short conversation game' lol)

Had writers block on this one for a while. The, I found 'Song of Stars in the Final Fantasy 15 soundtrack, and it was just... perfect for this chapter. I always like to write chapters to music that fits the mood(kind of why I put song titles at the top of each one: I listened to 'heroes' a while during this one, too), and after my tenth loop of 'Heroes', I just kind of puttered out. I saw the trailer for 'The Looming Tower', heard the music in that, got inspired for the next Asher chapter, wrote half of that, and then came back to this.

So at least I have a bunch of next chapter done. I might be shorter than the others I've written so far; just as a warning.

Fare Thee Well!