A month of unexplained absence, and I give you this tiny thing? I give you this tiny thing?!

I'm really, truly sorry- one thing leads to another, finals, 4 friends moving out of state, etc. But that's not really an excuse for updating a month late, at all, so I will leave you only with my deepest apologies. (Of course, I had to take a hiatus on the second to last chapter. Way to leave you guys hanging, I guess. Not really. That was kind of an unconscious dick move.)

Thank you to Blue for leaving a lovely review, and thank you to everyone who has been patient with this story. I know, it isn't the easiest. I can't believe the end is arriving in about a week (which I will write on the 20-hour flight I'm taking in a few days) and I'm actually kind of proud of this hot mess.

Happy summer!

-kat

arthur

Slitting through his sleep, the now-familiar piercing glow of a flashlight hits his eyelids, stirring him from uneasy dreams and strange thoughts, Mathias's voice muttering something in the background. A strange feeling coils in his stomach, a feeling of vague unease and fear. Already, even through the haze smothering his thoughts, as soon as he feels his breathing slow, he can tell something is about to happen. Arthur doesn't dare open his eyes.

"...What are we going to do?" Is that Tino? With each word, his voice lowers a couple of tones. Someone sighs heavily and clears their throat.

"Well," says Mathias's voice, "we're definitely not leaving with them when they leave, and we know they will."

A cold trickle runs down Arthur's fingers, as if he's running through wet leaves, Mathias's next words suddenly unheard. Something is happening, surprise surprise. For a moment, his breathing seems like the noisiest thing in the world. The beam of the flashlight waves quickly over his eyes again, and for some reason, Arthur has never been more terrified than right now. Mathias continues to speak. Of course, Arthur still can't process a word, yet the mounting confusion in his head ebbs and swells again. The cold concrete pressing against his back is nearly unbearable now, the clammy air quickly suffocating him in tension, the fingers in his left hand starting to fall asleep as he attempts to balance his weight on them.

A voice that's clearly Berwald's coughs before speaking. "Why not?" His tone is very clearly passive aggressive, cold and completely unwavering, Mathias's exasperated sigh cutting through the air at his interjection.

"Berwald," he begins. Arthur is struggling to even out each breath now, either about to laugh or cry at how sensitive he's gotten after the apocalypse. The thick emotion creeping into Mathias's voice makes the coiled fear in his stomach clench. Judging by their voices, it's all too clear something bad is about to happen, something Arthur wants no part of whatsoever. "Berwald, they fucking dropped- dropped him in a room full of walkers until he turned, kept him as a damned guinea pig, and you expect me to-"

"Expect you to avoid risking others' lives, yeah."

Arthur still can't understand a single thing that's going on, head whirling from sleep and confusion, all the built up stress from the last few days hitting like a brick. They're both clearly enraged now, and the rabid panic continues to steadily stream out of nowhere in his head. Faintly, Arthur hears Tino muttering in a foreign language, smooth and quiet and slowly starting to quell his fear. Almost like white noise, it fills the gaping silence with a constant hum. Slowly, Arthur takes his first shuddering breath, feeling the air catch in his throat as Tino continues mumbling. Breathe, blast it, breathe! The voice is back again, thickly smothering his previous panic, and feeling renewed once more Arthur resolves to open his eyes-

Before he can even flutter an eyelash, Berwald howls suddenly, the sound of fists against fists against bones slamming into Arthur's ears and rendering his previous resolution useless. Vaguely through the panic, he can hear Mathias and Tino practically screaming incoherently. The once-familiar chaos of a fistfight is echoing through the corridor like a stray bullet. Arthur can feel his eyelids firmly wrench together again, the fear and confusion and pent-up feeling making his stomach churn.

As quickly as it started, the noise suddenly halts. Emil's voice, flat and low, runs easily through the sound of heavy breathing.

"Arthur, I know you're awake. They've stopped."

Somehow, Arthur lets everything drop as his eyes barely open, taking in the scene before him. He's a bit down the corridor; the others are quite a few meters away, a decision he hazily remembers making as an attempt for some peace and quiet. In front of him, Mathias clutches a bruising eye as Berwald tilts back his head with an inscrutable expression, blood marring his pale face, Tino wiping some off his knuckles with his shirt. Was he the one who ended the fight? Arthur can only wonder. Emil shoves his hands in his pockets, shooting a sullen glare at the others before turning to Arthur.

"We won't harm you," he begins. "Any of you. We're just trying to figure things out, right, Mathias?"

Mathias's eyebrows pull together, like a child about to throw a fit, but he sighs and slumps against the wall anyway. Some semblance of defeat slips across his face as he hesitantly responds. "Yeah, guess so. I- I figure we can take our time."

"And I figure we're leaving, now," Berwald mutters, dabbing at the blood on his chin. Before Mathias can jump up again, Tino loudly coughs, scuffing at the floor with his boots, and the two only exchange sharp glares in silence.

"Look, guys," Tino begs, his eyes wide and gleaming. "Let's just compromise, okay? No more fighting. I don't want to break any more bones to settle conflicts between you guys." Even as he subconsciously grimaces at the remark, Arthur has to give it to him for effectively silencing the two. Their stony silence seems to smother everyone else's thoughts, and they all stare at each other for a few awkward moments before Emil clears his throat.

"Hey, Arthur, what's your perspective on this?" He stares at him curiously, an unreadable look on his face. Before he knows it, Arthur can feel his heart lag a few beats and suddenly start up even faster.

"Um," he mumbles, clearly the most articulate one in the room. All eyes are on him all of a sudden, all varying shades of blue and violet, watching and waiting. "Y-you mean on what you all should do?"

Tino shrugs. "I guess Em is thinking on the right track. We all want to leave except for Mathias, who wants to stay here and pull some suicide stunt involving burning the whole thing down. And we're definitely not separating again, especially not with Lukas gone. You're an outsider. Maybe you can go at it objectively, or, uh, something like that." He shrugs again, looking a little defensive as he picks at his hands. After yet another heavily awkward silence ensues, Berwald tentatively puts a hand on his shoulder; Tino beams easily this time, his walls dropping quickly, eyes large and moony. The change in his face is crystal clear, every single hard line softened and blurred together. Something in the back of Arthur's chest burns at the little scene, a faint glimpse of what he could have been, making him cough a little as flashes of something float across his thoughts.

Emil coughs too, snapping him out of his daze. "I think," Arthur manages to rush out, still a little startled, "I think we can both help each other out of here, and I can pull a few things for you if you want it."

Mathias barely leans forward, thoughtfully pondering Arthur's rushed ad lib solution with a contemplative look. "What kind of thing will you all be pulling, exactly?"

The panicky confusion from before is boiled down now, only plain adrenaline fueling the random words and sentences and ideas flooding his hasty dialogue as he blurts out some response he himself doesn't understand.

"Don't know what we'll do, maybe fire like you said. But who knows, maybe we'll try for something fancier- this is for revenge, right? I honestly have no goddamned clue why I'm involved in so many revenge missions, but I completely understand. But you're going to have to- no, I don't- wait, wait, wait…" And on Arthur goes, letting his metaphorical feet wander across town, all logic and reason flying out the window as intuitive emotions start slotting in.

But both Mathias and Berwald thoughtfully nod at his jumbled words as he just talks and talks and talks, their foggy eyes clearing as his explanation dwindles a little pathetically. Tino glances back at the sleeping frames near the end of the hallway as Arthur stammers on, and he gets a feeling it isn't so much about the content of his speech as it is about the context, and the others stare with distanced expressions as he wraps up his completely pointless commentary, as if trapped in a dream of a faraway memory.

And finally Emil stands on steady legs with a determined expression on his face and a practiced ease in his stance, and somehow his eyes seem like they're gazing millions of miles away in that single moment.

"Arthur, that was the most washy and strange and unhelpful advice I have ever heard, but-" and here he stumbles- "You know what, I think it's time we all get some sunlight again." His voice is thick with something Arthur faintly recognizes in his own, and Emil tugs on his smeary white gloves with an immovable expression across his face.

alfred

"Up ahead," Mathias hisses, even his whispering sharp and bright. "I think we turn here to get to the main hallway. Wait, what are we doing again?"

No one answers him, something he doesn't seem to mind, an ability Al absolutely marvels at. He has been nothing but concerned about others and their opinions his entire life, and yet here Mathias is, continuing to grin as he pokes at stony Emil. Strange people, Arthur had murmured in his ear when they had started off. Don't know what they're doing, but I'm going with it.

Since that had seemed like the wisest option, seeing as Arthur and the four hadn't explained a single thing to the rest of them, Al had decided to complacently go along with it. Even Lovino isn't bitching, only glaring broodily every once in a while. Ludwig, on the other hand, is animatedly chatting in rapid German with Mathias, the seemingly clumsy words long and eloquent in their voices. Alfred has never seen him this excited- it's strange, really, since Roderich can clearly speak the language too, judging by his occasional additions to the conversation. But something in the chilly air has changed, judging by their exuberant expressions. Ludwig and Mathias and sometimes Roderich just keep on going anyway, never seeming to take a breath for air, and Alfred lets the wall of language wash over him with a strangely comforting warmth.

And then it starts- "Hey," Feli mumbles sleepily, tapping Ludwig's shoulder. "Lud, shush, do you see that?"

Lovino stops dead in his tracks at the sight of a pale ray of light from around the corner, Roderich halting mid-sentence as well. As they all go silent, before-dawn silent, the faint ringing of someone sobbing hits Al's ears, even louder in the sudden absence of constant German. His heart plummets, a proverbial stone cold and hard in his stomach, and Lovino desperately paws at Feli's sleeve, eyes almost popping as he swivels back and forth.

"Antonio?" Roderich manages to croak out, his fists loosening weakly, and Alfred feels the very first shiver of fear run through him. This place is just one surprise after another, one horror story after another- his feet seem to melt into the floor with a strange sense of finality.

Tino takes a cautious step forward, then another, then another, and hesitantly tails the trail of light on the balls of his feet. Ludwig shakes his head before following. And of course, because Alfred seems to have a knack for getting into horrific situations, he follows them on his numb legs and pretends not to notice the sticky feeling on his soles.

"Get the fuck back-" Feli, goggle-eyed too, quickly clamps a hand over Lovino's mouth before he can speak any more. Mathias's head starts to bob, yet Alfred himself can't shake the feeling.

Arthur's voice rings in his head, smooth and soothing all of a sudden. Just- just let it go. Let it go.

And so with a deep breath and renewed confidence, he creaks the door open as Emil and Tino and Ludwig peer over him.

The room is lit with a dim yellowed lamp dangling from the ceiling, making the concrete walls look strange and mottled. A peeling recliner sits in the center, facing away from the doorway, all of it in torn mustard-colored cloth upholstery. Through the thick, hiccupy sobbing, Al can see a bloodied hand lashed down to one of the arms of the chair- Tino shoves a fist into his mouth as his eyes screw shut.

They stay frozen there for far too long. Somehow, through the pervasive terror, Ludwig takes a hesitant step forward.

"Are you…"

As he somehow pulls himself forward, Alfred slowly becomes aware of the others around him shrinking backwards, of Ludwig's wide eyes as he scrabbles with a roll of bandages, of a broken nose and pulled teeth and fingernails and red-tinged blue eyes, of the continuous sound- when he finally dampens his shock, the only thing he can really concentrate on is the mere boy in the center of the room, dried blood in his fair hair and trembling eyes, his voice mumbling something as Ludwig runs thick bandages across his arm as a makeshift sling, asking question after question in a voice like smog.

"Is there anywhere else broken?"

The boy coughs again, patting his ribs. "N-no-"

Ludwig bites his lip as he fumbles around in his pockets. "And your name?"

"I-" He glances around the room, at everyone else, and as his eyes meet Alfred's he can see something solidly shift in them. "Take off- off the bandages, please, please, they're coming soon, you can't get caught, whoever you are-"

"What?" The clear disbelief in Ludwig's voice is almost painful to hear. "What are you- Gott, alright, you're coming with us, we're getting you out of here, I don't know what the hell they did to you but we can help, please."

The stranger is almost shaking back and forth now, glancing around. "Just- go the opposite direction and never come back, never open any more of the doors in this damn place, never think back on this again, now, before they kill you, no matter what."

Ludwig reaches out, about to grab him and make a run for it. His arm is suddenly jerked to a halt out of nowhere. And there Tino stands and stares at the boy, his left hand tight on Ludwig's arm and his right grasping a hunting knife, his eyes half-lidded and dark.

"Eduard," he begins. "Eduard-"

Al stands in shallow amazement at the sheer level of coincidence they've all been pressed through so far as the person he assumes is Eduard reaches for the knife with an almost-smile. Thoughts float back to him: Francis, Antonio, Lukas, names that echo in his mind and pull his head into something thick and existential. Ludwig sighs lengthily, shakes his head, crams the roll of bandages into his pocket with flooded eyes.

"Tino," Eduard mumbles. He's missing both his canines, eyes watery and bleak, but he still smiles as he flicks out the blade. "You should go."

Tino shakes his head, faintly smiling too. "Yeah. Yeah, I should." A pause, and he presses his sleeve to his eyes. "Keep it. What a coincidence."

"Yeah."

"You know, I'm sorry."

Eduard shakes his head almost regretfully. Tino turns away, walks out with perfectly even steps, and Alfred can do nothing but follow with Ludwig. Somewhere behind him, the sound of bandages ripping halts, and the only sound left is a slow and steady drip. The others are nothing but a faint shadow against the concrete wall. He doesn't turn back as they step back into the darkness, their footsteps completely silent, marking the beginning of their ascent into the end.