A/N: This is set in what I think is a slight canon divergence. I don't exactly remember the timeline but it is the night after Musa got her Charmix and they are still in the Wildlands.

There's a brief mention of oral sex right after the flashback which is in italics so if you don't want to read it, skip the paragraph directly after that.

His lungs burn in tact with his heels hitting the pavement. He's run a thousand miles but he can't stop until the warmth in his hand is safe. He'll run a thousand more to pull her out of danger.

Musa's grip on him lightens as the oxygen runs out to wash away their energy too. She's falling behind and there's no telling how much longer either of them will last without her magic but that's locked away. It has been for so long he can hardly remember how she looks in her fairy form. It must be driving her insane to be slapped in the face by the wind but be unable to feel it in her wings when those themselves had been pulled out of her reach. She may as well have been dewinged.

The creatures hunting them know how to strike, where to clamp their teeth to tear the biggest, most painful piece from their flesh. Their shadows move with every breath they steal from him and Musa as they entertain themselves with the chase. Their claws slash through his heart even from the distance to spill his fears and turn his fingers slippery with uncertainty. It's too hard to hold on to Musa but he can't let her get eaten for his mistakes.

A shadow stains his vision at the corner of his eye and makes his heart leap in his throat. He'll throw it up and stomp on it in his haste to get away but he's still grounded in Musa's hand. He sees further than himself.

That darkness is different – cold with its dismissal of them. They can slip in there for the price of his shivering while the fire his insides have caught is forcibly numbed. He might die from the drastic shift in temperature but at least Musa will be safe. That's all the thinking he needs to do.

He pulls her up to him and wraps around her like armor to tackle her in the alley that might be shelter or doom. They stumble in, half upright still as Musa's body refuses to bend. It resists his own weight and supports it until he can pull himself off of her and press his back against the wall. His lungs still to make him invisible to the monsters out there but he grabs for Musa first, hands on her shoulders to anchor her in case her heart needs to be silenced.

His is pounding too loudly in his ears for him to hear anything from outside–even the approaching or retreating beasts–so his eyes remain trained on the light touching their hiding place but refusing to enter it. If he looks into the darkness around, it will swallow his mind and Musa will have to leave him behind. He can't allow that, can't allow them to be separated.

There's nothing outside except luring calmness while the shadows curl around him and Musa to invade their bodies. There is no intent moving them but his skin crawls under their touch. If it were his own flesh under his fingers instead of Musa's, he would've ripped it off by now.

His breath bursts out like the beating of a drum in the quiet cloaking them. He may as well have sent a signal of their location to the enemy.

Inhale. Exhale. Inhale. Exhale. He's getting in the triple digits as he counts the rhythm of his own madness to no reaction from the outside. The world could have become a utopia by now and they'd still be trapped in the uncertainty he chose to give their pursuers as a weapon. As if they need more ways to toy with them.

It's Musa's heat pressing into him that captures his mind back in his body. She might have spoken but he didn't hear from his pulse still racing like it's trying to escape him. His body's alive with the rush of adrenaline and Musa's proximity hits like an extra dose shooting through him.

He dares a glance to where she's standing amidst the darkness and his mind explodes with endless different notes he's hitting at the same time.

Musa is glowing in his hands like he's only seen her do from the power of music flowing into her. Maybe his blood sings to her. To him it's screaming with need as the hot puffs of her breath hit his neck and draw him straight to her lips.

They're redder than her top. Redder than the blood no longer dripping in his head as the reality of their circumstances is erased. Redder even than the burning desire to kiss her. Maybe if he tastes them, he'll acquaint himself with the intensity of their shade.

Cupping her cheek sears his flesh with pain to push him away again. Her jaw is clenched, the tension spiking through it to stab him down to the bone. A better look adds the last touch to his suspicions – her eyes are screwed shut. Her stiffness is the slap that brings the memories back as his brain rattles around his skull and spirals down to the depths he's been avoiding. He'll drown in their darkness. In her darkness.

Golden pierces through the black to bring back the scorching heat of shame. It's purple that rises in his mind and swirls around like smoke effects at a concert. And he hears a symphony of her voice.

Her clones surround him – more terrifying than ever as they use the acoustic that's supposed to be Musa's domain against him. If they're clones, she must be here, too, so that's not it. He can't see her now. But if they're not clones, what are they? Memories? Hallucinations? Visions?

His lungs burn again as his body shakes from the adrenaline to her desired frequency so that she can use him as the instrument of his own downfall, and Musa's, too. Resistance is futile when he can only be saved by nails plucking out his brain to take away his ability to see what he's become.

Weak. A shattered boy. Not a Specialist. Not a soldier. Not even a shield. He can't save Musa from the past he let happen to her. He can't save himself from the pet he allowed to be turned into. All his strength surrenders as his spine breaks and he bows to the ruler of his nightmares.

Darcy.

His eyes snap open to darkness. Dark hair. Blue like her eyes. Short like the distance between their bodies, and the memories he's reaching for.

"You up for some rulebreaking?" Musa poked her head into his tent, her pigtails perked up like she was getting a good vibration.

He hated being predictable. "Sure. Get in." Stepping over the rules was just a part of his character, however.

Musa had tiptoed in his tent, graceful even in the limited space. He hadn't thought she'd be the one getting in his pants but after a short debate that had deemed the others would see if not hear them having sex, she'd given him the best head of his life, easily overshadowing those occasions he wanted to forget. He could only hope he'd returned the favor decently in the quiet they had to keep to without the possibility of a soundproofing spell.

A shift next to him sends him jumping out of his skin as Musa turns and her arm lands on top of his chest. Less wrapping around it and more covering his heart with her hand. It's almost a too eerily perfect response to his lost voice but her drowsy one rejects the idea.

"What's wrong?" she mumbles as she shifts her head against his shoulder so that she's lying on him. The angle has to be killing her neck but she won't notice in the middle of the night and he can't move. He can't chase her away.

"Nothing."

It's a lie. Even if she won't catch it in her disorientation. It's a lie and he knows it. But it's a lie he wants to turn into a truth and give to her then. He doesn't know where he'll find the words or how. The apology should be easy enough. Explaining what he's apologizing for can be a problem with the burn of running for your life still lodged in his lungs and heart. But it's his problem and he'll solve it. Musa's honesty made her stronger, gave her that magic that reaching for his hand almost pried out of her grasp in the past. If she can still sing after his humanity's betrayal, he can speak.

He turns to face her, cradling her head to move it in a more relaxed position. He runs his fingers through her hair in lieu of a lullaby. The short strands are like a lifeline she's thrown him to pull him out of the fever dream in his mind and let him live another day.

Tomorrow's a new day. And he'll run a thousand miles to find the words he deserves to give her.