A/N: Gosh, I'm SO sorry this took so long to update. I was making really good progress, and then I stalled because I got distracted. A good distraction, though (as my Twitter peeps know): wedding planning! I got engaged recently, and I'm feeling like the luckiest gal in the world. But gosh, it's the biggest party I've ever planned. I've got 9 months to go and I'm already feeling time-crunched. Getting in a writing mindset can be tough amidst all that can be tough some days. Ah well.

I will do my best to keep writing at a respectable pace going forward. But as always, I appreciate your patience.

For now, let's get back to this trainwreck of an idea!

Chapter 3

Drifting Soul

An entire horizon of white surrounded him. He felt...cozy, like the bed he lay in now wasn't his typical bunk. His ears rang with the utter silence of it all. His eyelids got heavy again, and he almost succumbed to the temptation to drift off to sleep again. It had been so long since he last got a good nap, after all. And this bed of grass made for a nice pillow.

But one hazy thought kept snapping his eyes back open: where exactly was he? In between the unwavering hush of the clouds wafting about his ears, he could have sworn he heard a woman's voice.

Get up, Rex! Daylight's wasting. It is not your place to fall here. You're such a child sometimes. They're fighting to keep you safe. Make sure you wash up before dinner.

Auntie Corrine? No, Mòrag. Or was it Nia? Lora? No. He'd recognize this voice. Why, oh why couldn't he make sense of this?

He sat up and looked around, blinking once, twice. The sheer whiteness nearly blinded him. And no amount of exposure made his vision adjust. The details remained blurry. But through the haze he could make out a carpet of grass peeking out from among the clouds, along with...was that rock? No, that couldn't be right. This rock—a quick knock with his fist told him there was indeed rock underneath that grass—this rock moved. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw great leathery wings (also rock, somehow), that seemed to propel them through the clouds. From the front, he saw the blurry form of a long, lithe neck. From the back, a great, sweeping tail.

I must be dreaming, he realized at last.

But when had he fallen asleep?

...with no need for fighting.

Another voice, one that pulled him back towards sleep. This place, this sense of ease...yes, he could sleep here as long as he liked. And yet…

You metal-headed idiot. Get up, rust-for-brains. Get up so I can kill you myself for putting me through this, you arsehole.

Nia?

That was it. Nia. He and Nia were supposed to be doing something...with the others. What was it, again?

Find Elysium.

Heaven did sound nice. But he was just so, so tired. And the way this rock-creature's wings cut through the clouds hypnotized him. Maybe Elysium could wait. A nap couldn't hurt.

"Rex, open your eyes, damn you!" she screeched. "Don't you dare leave me. Not like this!"

Her voice felt raw, as if her lungs were trying to claw their way out of her body through her throat. But everything else in her body felt numb, dead. The pain reminded her that this wasn't a nightmare. Rex had really gotten hurt. And she stood by and watched it happen. She gripped his wrist again, hoping against hope that his pulse would return. But the veins felt still, the skin already cold.

No heartbeat. She could—

No, not that. Not after what happened last time.

Instinct took over, and she tried to force the identity of her patient to the back of her mind. A good field medic treated soldiers with a level head, helped them survive. Yes, she had to forget this was Rex. Just another soldier out on the field. And if any other soldier's heart stopped, she'd administer CPR right away. The instructions from that stupid certification ran in her head like a broken record:

Hand over hand, fingers interlocked. Keep arms braced. Quick compressions, two inches deep. Thirty, then rescue breaths. Check the airway. Continue until exhaustion or signs of life.

Crack. Damn it, she broke his ribs. Thirty compressions. Two breaths. Sixty. More breaths. Ninety. Then she lost count. Her own breath came in quick gasps that stabbed at her sides. Her arms ached like she'd been punching asphalt instead of flesh. Rex's chest rose and fell with each puff of air she pushed through his airway, but his pulse never changed.

"Come on, Rex! Breathe, damn it! Please! Please."

"Nia! What the hell happened?"

Lora's voice. The auburn-haired soldier must have seen the emergency flare and come to help.

"I—Rex, he...the wires. Electrocuted," she choked out. "His heart, it won't, he's not—"

A desperate hiccup cut her off. Lora seemed to get the message anyway—or at least enough of it to push her aside and take her place administering the compressions. If it had been any other soldier at risk, Nia would have collapsed from exhaustion, thankful for the break. But Rex…

She ran a finger through his hair, suddenly not giving a damn what Lora would think. She probably knew anyway.

"Come on, Rex. Please. Please, come back to us."

Then the tears surfaced, unperturbed by her feeble attempt to stifle them. Rex wasn't going to make it, which meant none of them were. And she could have stopped it. If only she'd been faster. Or if she'd learned how to control her own abilities. But here she was, a coward. And now they'd all pay for it. Their deaths would be her fault.

Just like Da and Sis.

"Nia. Get a hold of yourself!" a voice barked in her ear through her radio.

"A-Addam?"

"You can still save him."

"H-he's not responding to CPR. He's not going to wake up," she protested weakly.

"Maybe not with ordinary methods. But your power—you can."

Her heart rose into her throat, nearly choking her words completely. "You told me I'd never have to use it again. You ordered me not to!"

"I know. But you have to try now. I'm giving you permission. Rex is our only hope!"

That. The mere thought of it welled up images, memories flashing through her brain in fast-forward. She tried to push them away.

"Addam, I can't! I'm...I'm scared."

One of the memories forced its way into focus.

Blood everywhere. A gruesome limb, contorted and imploded on itself. Her fault. In her hurry to try to mend her sister's compound fracture, she'd manipulated the cells too quickly. Reattaching it never—

Another memory, this one further back.

"A success!" the head scientist at the Conduit Project shouted. "Finally, a sentient life form that can manipulate the energy in the air to stimulate cell reproduction in organic material! Just think of the possibilities! Medicine! Agriculture! Everything! With this, mankind might finally find immortality!"

She stared dumbly at the specimen in her hand, still unsure why the man was so giddy about what she'd done. She still didn't understand it. But the proof dangled between her fingers: a lab mouse with a firmly reattached tail, still alive and well. Just how many rodents had they cut the tails from, only to order her to reattach them? And what good did it do them if she could heal mice?

Then her first intelligent subject:

The Nopon's howls pierced the air, high and shrill and awful. She tried not to look at the crimson liquid spewing from its head—or maybe body was the better term; the head and body seemed to be one singular unit with these furballs.

"Why did you do that? Why'd you hurt him?" she demanded. "He's suffering!"

"And you can end that suffering. Reattach the subject's wings, Nia."

She wanted to scream, to damn them for treating their "subjects" as if they couldn't feel pain. As if they weren't real. But what good would it do? These humans didn't care. To them, the Nopon and Gormotti were just experiments—clods of cells grown out of test tubes. The humans were the masters, they the slaves in the human's quest for immortality.

Biting down a stream of curses, she turned her attention inward, to the core of her being. She could never put into words how it worked; one of the scientists had murmured some jargon-stuffed explanation about an energy-manipulating device installed inside her body. Somehow it let her heal injuries. Terrible ones, apparently far better than the human doctors could. They called it miraculous, really.

Part of her wanted to intentionally attach them incorrectly. Maybe then they'd stop inflicting pain on others. Maybe then they would stop using her as a tool in these terrible experiments. But the Nopon's pathetic sobs banished that idea. She couldn't make him suffer any more than he already had.

A burst of energy, and the wounds vanished.

Then after the Calamity...

" You're the reason she died. You promised you'd help her and you killed her! I ought to tear your limbs off one at a time so you can feel the same pain she did, you murderer!"

"Da, it was an accident, I swear! I think the crash broke something inside me. I-I didn't mean to hurt her! I'm sorry! Please forgive me!"

His eyes seethed with rage. Blood still dripped from his palms from when he'd tried to grab his daughter's leg and staunch the bleeding. It had been hopeless, of course, but that hadn't stopped him from trying.

"I took you in when no one else would," he hissed. "They warned me you Conduit filth would be trouble, but I didn't listen. I let you live here. Treated you like my own daughter, I did. And thisis how you repay me?"

"I was only trying to help, I swear! My powers, I've never hurt anyone before! Please! It was an accident!"

"I'll kill you!"

A guttural, feral snarl left the man's lips as he lunged. His hands clasped around her neck before she could move a muscle. At first, she didn't resist. Maybe she did deserve to die. The girl's death was her fault. A life for a life. She'd only ever been an experiment anyway, a byproduct of the human's scientific discoveries. What right did she have to live?

And yet something deep in her thrummed with life, as if the damaged part of her core refused to surrender so easily. She could manipulate cells. Maybe she could just break his fingers so she could escape. Then she'd run far, far away where she couldn't hurt anyone else.

—Far more than ten fingers broke. The energy went sour all over again. His frame crumpled, then nearly disintegrated entirely, a rotten mass of flesh decaying before her eyes.

"Nia! Nia, listen to me!"

Addam nearly shouted at her over the radio, his voice finally drawing her back to the present. Only then did she realize that she'd been clenching her fists and biting her tongue. Her breath came in sharp, painful heaves. The horrors of the past and the horrors of the present had converged too closely.

I can't go back to those days.

"Nia," Addam urged. "You can heal Rex. You can do this."

"I-I can't! I don't want to hurt anybody else. My power—I can't control it! Please don't make me. I-I can't be that monster again."

"Nia, you're not a monster."

"My power's a curse! I'm just a weapon gone wrong. Even you're scared of what I can do."

Addam's voice quieted. "...Yes, I was scared. I found you right after the—after the incident. And your abilities terrified me. I won't deny it. And I let my fear control me. I made you feel like a danger to others. You needed a mentor, and I looked the other way. I should have helped you, not hid you. And I'm sorry. Because you're not a freak. We don't fully understand your abilities yet, but we can. We'll figure them out. Together."

"They're dead because of me. I—"

"That was an accident. The past doesn't dictate what happens now . I saw your files, Nia. I know how many hundreds of patients you healed at the Project. You did a lot of good there, too. I know you can save him. No one else can."

"I can't."

"Nia. You can do this. I trust you."

In that moment, she couldn't quite tell if it was Addam's voice or Rex's. I trust you. Just how many times had Rex told her that? Addam trusted her. He'd seen the aftermath of what she'd done, and he had confidence in her anyway. And yet the doubts nagged. If the energy went wrong, she could make Rex's condition worse. Not to mention she might hurt Lora and Tora in the process. More lives on her conscience.

The ship shook, as if a massive enemy above had crashed into it. Nia thought she heard Shellhead cry out in pain. With Lora down here, he and Mòrag would be fighting alone against that onslaught. It was really only a matter of time until that wave of Guldo broke through and flooded the ship, too. Deep down, she knew that reality couldn't be avoided. If things stayed as they were in that moment, they'd all die. Not just Rex.

I...I have nothing left to lose.

"O-okay. I'll try."

Nia crawled over to Rex's side, trying to ignore the wild pounding in her heart, struggling to push back all the bad memories. Instead, she forced her mind to replay all the good memories with Rex. His geeky excitement over the gizmo he'd added to his sword last week. The way he fumbled over his tongue when she first hinted that she liked him. How she teased him for his height even though she had no room to talk. Their rowdy games of Chooby Tubes after lights out. The time they accidentally started a food fight among the orphans at the mess hall. And above all, Rex's relentless kindness no matter what. How the past didn't feel quite so frightening and guilty when he was around.

Nia felt Lora place a gentle hand on her shoulder. Tora's feathery one followed. It seemed...warm, genuine. Like the touch of the family she'd never had.

No, the touch of the family she'd found. The touch of the family she now had to protect.

All at once, the pounding calmed. Her breath stilled. Then she turned her focus inwards. And for the first time—despite a still breathless Rex and the fighting roaring above—the core of her being felt serene. The energy there—or perhaps it was love instead of fear, she wondered—surged, hers to use as she saw fit.

"Hang on, Rex. I'm not going to let you die."

A warmth twisted in her gut even as she began to send cooling waves of energy into his body. Then she leant down and whispered the one thing she always meant to say.

Zeke had long since run out of bullets—not that he could safely fire fighting in these close quarters. And he only had one grenade left. He had an idea what to do with it, but only as a last resort. It seemed almost silly to keep fighting. That white flare probably spelled doom for the mission. Lora had gone to help the team below, but he doubted her presence would make much of a difference. If Rex was hurt…

And he and Mòrag weren't much better off, either. Less than twenty or thirty minutes ago, they positioned themselves at the bottom of the Elysium's gangplank. It was the best strategic position for an outnumbered fight. They had the high ground, and they could largely control how many Guldo approached at once. But in that short time, the beasts pressed them back further and further. Now they struggled about two-thirds of the way up the gangplank. And they lost ground much faster now.

In a matter of minutes, the Guldo would break through onto the ship.

Yet they fought on relentlessly. Mòrag stabbed at one, knocking it off its balance. Zeke kicked with all his might. The targeted opponent didn't stumble off the gangplank—the desired effect—but one or two behind it did, like great granite dominoes. The larger of the two collided with the hull of the ship with the sound of an earthquake. Just how much did these damn creatures weigh? If they could so greatly shake a warship just by falling...He pushed that thought from his mind. Thinking of such a rational fact might make his muscles ache at the total girth he'd shoved aside.

No, better to focus on what he could control. Slice, parry, dodge. And breathe. Breathe through the pain. And each breath ached. After two blunt swipes to his side, he was lucky to even be upright. He doubted all his ribs remained intact. Mòrag fared a little better than he—she dodged all but one such blow, and the one she took didn't seem to faze her much. Of the two of them, she'd have an easier time fleeing. If only he could somehow convince her to go. Not to mention find a way to get her out of this mess…

We're overrun.

His overwhelmed mind didn't see a way out.

"Mòrag. Zeke," a voice called over the radio. "Hold on just a little longer. Help's coming. Buy yourselves some time."

Over the din of their battle, neither soldier could really tell who spoke (although they suspected it was Addam); they just barely made out the words themselves. They had no time to wonder what "help" meant, either. It seemed foolish to hope for it. With Rex in trouble below and no end to the Gulod, what hope did they possibly have? Help—no matter what shape it took—wouldn't arrive in time.

"Zeke, do you think you can get the bulkhead door shut on your own?" Mòrag shouted, her question punctuated by the clanging of her swords against stone.

He didn't like that look in her eye. It resembled that of a cornered animal with nothing left to lose. She couldn't mean...he resisted the temptation to lie.

"Yeah! But it'll take a few seconds!"

"I'll hold them off," she huffed, slicing at the knee of yet another Guldo. You get that door closed!"

"I'm not letting you fight alone."

"I'll be right behind you. Promise. Just trust me!"

Zeke hesitated all over again. Any ordinary soldier would be trampled in a matter of seconds if left to fight alone. But of the two of them, Mòrag had the better chances. He was a long-range specialist. She'd trained in close-quarters combat since she could talk. And Mòrag, was well, Mòrag. Stubborn to the core. Maybe too stubborn to die here. And amidst her cornered-animal gaze he could see the tiny vestiges of a hare-brained scheme brewing, a last-ditch effort.

Shit. Why did it have to come to this?

In as fluid a motion as he could manage while batting away hostile blows, he pulled his last grenade from his pocket and jammed it into Mòrag's. Maybe she could make use of it. Then he bolted.

The top of the gangplank took mere seconds to reach. As soon as he did, he stole a glance back at Mòrag. The sight banished a little bit of the guilty feeling he had over leaving her to hold them off alone. It was like watching a phoenix burst into flame. She spun on the spot—faster than should have been humanly possible—swords outstretched. The Guldo nearest her jumped back, startled by this tornado of bladework. The creatures gazed stupidly for a moment, then moved forward again, searching for an opening. Sparks flew whenever one of her swords made contact. She held them back for now, but he knew she could only manage that maneuver for a few seconds.

Zeke scrambled to the opposite side of the bulwark, grabbed the door and pushed with all his might. His back popped with the effort; his muscles instantly pleaded for relief. It took multiple men to close such a heavy door. Two inches, then six. A foot. Sweat beaded on his forehead. Another foot.

When he had the door halfway closed, he heard her cry out. Her frenzy slowed, but did not stop. He shoved another foot.

"Mòrag, come on!"

At the sound of his voice, she vaulted backwards, flipping out of range. In the tiny window of opportunity the motion bought her, she jammed her swords into their sheaths. Then she took the grenade, pulled the pin, dropped it, and sprinted. Zeke felt his heart pound in his throat. It was a risky maneuver for anyone, much less anyone who was lurching from dizziness and dripping blood from a wound somewhere on their shoulder. The Guldo, ignorant of what a grenade was, charged after her. Time seemed to stand still as that brief race ran its course. The Guldo lumbered forward, just inches away from Mòrag's heels. She sprang through the door, and with one last mighty heave, Zeke slammed it shut behind her.

And not a moment too soon. The same moment the bulwark was sealed again, the grenade detonated.

For one long, miserable second, the world was nothing but the sound of splintering rock, groaning Guldo—why, why, when they were suffering did they have to sound so damn human ?—and crashing debris.

Then, finally, stillness.

Zeke peered out the window and surveyed the damage. The metal gangplank now had a great hole in it. While Guldo would no longer be able to cross it two at a time, with persistence, they could still get to the door of the ship. Zeke made a silent whisper of thanks that the door locked from the inside; already, the creatures that survived the blast were already clamoring up, as persistent as ever.

"That buys us some time," he sighed. "But it won't hold them for very long. We should find a new defensive position."

He looked at Mòrag, still sprawled out across the dusty metal floor where she'd collapsed after diving inside. He finally got a better look at her. And the sight made him curse himself for letting her fight alone for even a second. A gash—not terribly deep, but poorly placed between her shoulder and her neck—seeped blood. A new small cut ran down her cheek where she must have dodged the worst of the blow. Despite those wounds, she pulled herself into a sitting position and leaned against the wall.

"I-I don't think a new position is going to help us much," she murmured, a wry sort of smile on her face.

"Shit, Mòrag."

"It's not fatal. But I don't think I'll be much use in a fight."

He moved to her side, leaving his own weapons strewn across the floor as he tore off his shirt. Hopefully she wouldn't notice the angry red welts in his side. He ripped off a section of fabric and pressed it against her wound.

"You idiot," he muttered.

"What?"

He tried to push the frustration down, but it rose back up like a bad wave of nausea.

"Don't think I didn't see what you were trying to do!" he exclaimed. Mòrag winced as he accidentally pressed down too hard on the wound. "I know you were trying to protect me. You were willing to sacrifice yourself so I could get away. I-I don't want you getting hurt because of me."

Her tired eyes gave an unfamiliar flash of frustration. "You've no room to talk. I saw you jump in front of those two blows. They were going to hit me if you hadn't stepped in."

"That's not—"

"Don't lie to me." She poked at his reddened side—relatively gently, but the pressure still sent pain rocketing through his ribs. He couldn't hold back the gasp.

"Okay, yeah. I was trying to protect you, too. Sorry. I know you hate that."

"...If it were anyone else, I'd tell them to mind their own business. But for you, I suppose I'll make an exception."

Damn. Why did she have to be so sweet when they were both probably mere hours from death?

"I-I should go find Nia. You're in rough shape, chap."

A loud thud reverated throughout the room: the sound of a Guldo fist slamming against the door.

"They'll break through before too long. You won't find her in time," Mòrag replied simply. "Just...just stay."

"It's not like you to just give up."

"I saw the flare, too. I know this ship isn't going anywhere."

Part of him wanted to pick her up and run; there still had to be hope, right? Hadn't Addam radioed that help was on the way? His optimistic side told him there had to be something they could do. And yet, looking at things realistically, as Mòrag always did, that was a fool's hope. And he didn't want to spend what could be their last hours arguing with her. And so he finished tying a makeshift bandage across her wound and then sat down beside her.

Boom. Boom. Boom. Over and over, the sound of rock against metal, thrumming like a funeral drum. Like in the old story: Drums. Drums in the deep. We cannot get out. They are coming.

"I...I hope Addam finds another way to get everyone to safety," Mòrag murmured. "Otherwise we've let everyone down."

"We did what we could. It was always a long shot."

For a while, they fell silent. There was too much left to say but not enough time to say it. So why bother?

The metal of the door—still under assault—began to bend, warping from the constant barrage. Zeke slipped his sweaty, aching hand into Mòrag's bloodied one. And yet everything felt eerily calm. Cool. Almost soothing.

"Wait. What's that?"

Mòrag looked at the phenomenon Zeke had pointed out. At first glance, she thought it was water, seeping up from the floor below somehow. But it rose far faster than water would. Then she realized it retained its shape as it rose, inching closer and closer to their feet. It looked like the top of a great dome, but what it was made of, she couldn't quite describe. It swirled and sparkled like water, and yet its surface did not waver, like glass. If she hadn't been quite confident that she was awake, she would have sworn she was dreaming. And her younger self would have sworn it was magic from her storybooks.

In recent years, that childish belief in magic had all but vanished, sullied by the cynicism that stemmed from watching technology accomplish previously impossible feats...and watching that same technology tear their people apart.

But here it was, rising before her very eyes. It lapped at their toes a moment, then swelled higher. She braced herself for something bad—a burst of cold or a shock of pain, perhaps. But as the water-phenomenon washed up over their shins, she realized that all she felt was a cool, soothing sensation. Her feet felt fresh again. The cramps in her calves released. It rose still higher, and the stitches in her side vanished. She took a deep breath as it rose over their heads, but she quickly found she could breathe. And what delicious breaths they were! Like a summer breeze along the seashore, except each inhale was cool and refreshing.

And then all at once, the phenomenon vanished in a burst of blue light.

"What was that?"

Zeke shrugged. "I've seen some weird shit in my time but that was—Mòrag, your shoulder!"

He gaped and pointed at the spot as if her arm had just suddenly fallen off. Only then did she realize that the pain had mysteriously dissipated. The dullest ache remained, as if she'd merely overdone it in a workout. She pulled away the bandage and couldn't believe her eyes. The wound was gone. The only trace of it was the blood that now stained her skin and clothes. But the skin had woven itself back together. She raised her arm tentatively, testing the range of motion. It felt good as new.

Her eyes went to Zeke's side—his bruises had disappeared, too. Smooth, taught skin was all she saw. She poked at the same spot she'd jabbed earlier. This time, he didn't even flinch.

"Wow," Zeke whispered, now exploring the remnants of her wound with his own fingers. "What just happened?"

"So all your injuries are gone too, then?"

"Not just my injuries," he replied. "My exhaustion, too. I feel like I could wrestle a bear right now!"

"W-we're okay, then. We're okay!"

Giddy, relieved laughter slipped out of her lips, and for a moment, they lingered, giggling in each other's arms. Somehow—maybe even by some sort of magic—they'd cheated death for at least a little longer. And that merited a silly moment of celebration.

"Do...do you think that maybe whatever that was helped Rex, too?" Zeke asked.

As if in answer, the lights in the ship flickered with electricity and turned on—dim and old, but they were on. Which could only mean—

"Rex is still trying to get the ship running. He's all right."

"Let's go find him. Maybe we can help," Zeke volunteered. "Wait, the door…"

"It should hold for a little while," she pointed out. "And in these tight hallways, we have a slight advantage."

"Then let's go."

As far as they could tell, the door held. With Mòrag practically native to military vessels, finding the engine room was easy enough. But when they arrived, they didn't find exactly what they expected. Yes, there was Rex, tinkering with the engine. But what they didn't expect was Nia clinging to him like a desperate trained monkey, gripping his back tightly as if she feared he'd vanish if she let him go. Tora and Lora also sat against the wall of the room, looking both relieved and shocked and horrified and inspired all at once.

And contrary to what the white flare had implied several minutes earlier, Rex was perfectly fine.

"What happened here?" Zeke asked at last.

"Mòrag! Zeke! You guys are okay!" Rex exclaimed, looking up from his work.

"As are you. How?"

"I, well—"

"Focus, Rex! We can have storytime later. We've gotta get outta here," Nia hissed.

Lora shook her head. "I'd like to hear an explanation myself. What just happened earlier—that was incredible. And it wasn't normal."

"What happened, exactly?"

"Friend Rex-Rex died. Heart stopped. Nia summoned field of magic energy and made Rex-Rex live again!" Tora said, bouncing excitedly as if he just witnessed a good play at a football game.

"Oi. Furball, don't pull my leg. What the hell really happened?"

"That's more or less the gist of it," Lora added. "Rex got electrocuted. Nia tried to give CPR. I tried to help, but we couldn't seem to resuscitate him. Then she made this weird...ugh, I can't describe it. It was like this orb of water, but it wasn't wet? But anyway, it got bigger, and by the time it vanished, Rex was back."

"So that thing, that weird water thing was you? " Zeke gaped at Nia. "You brought him back to life?"

Nia buried her face in Rex's collar, still clinging to him. Her ears drooped. "Yeah."

"But that's wonderful!" Mòrag exclaimed, her disbelief and awe showing itself in an uncharacteristically excited outburst. "So why act ashamed?"

"I was only able to do it because I'm a Conduit Freak."

That gave the others a partial explanation. Even before the Calamity, people often referred to the Conduit Project's less...successful experiments as "Conduit Freaks." Most had been hunted down and "contained" due to their "perilous and unpredictable tendencies." But if what Nia said was true, then apparently some had slipped through the cracks.

"You're not a freak, Nia!" Rex exclaimed, halting his work for a moment. "You saved me. And I don't care what your past was. Those Conduit doctors did some messed-up stuff, but that doesn't make you a freak. You're a good person. And I owe you my life."

"We all do, really. That energy, or water, or whatever that phenomenon was you created—it healed us, too."

"R-Rex. Everyone…Thanks."

"Then can friend Nia explain water ball thing?" Tora asked.

"Well, I, um...it's a little complicated to explain."

"Give it a rest, Tora. Can't you see it makes her uncomfortable?" Rex retorted.

The Nopon batted his wings, apparently unperturbed by the scolding for his curiosity.

"I can fill in a few of the details," a voice interjected, speaking to all of their radios at once.

"Addam! I was beginning to wonder if we'd ever hear your disembodied voice again." Zeke chimed, his tone the happiest it had sounded in hours.

The Special Force's leader gave a wry chuckle. "I'm glad you're all alive to hear me," he replied. "Now, listen well because I'm only going to explain this once. And what you're all about to hear is classified information. Nia's safety depends on this staying confidential. Understand?"

After a chorus of "Yes, Sir!," Addam continued.

"I'll do my best to be brief. As you all know, the Conduit Project was always controversial. Some had moral reservations about the quest for immortality, if you will. But during their peak, the Project also tried to develop technology that would allow humanity to harness energy fields in the air. And that energy, once harnessed, let them accomplish feats that defied the rules of cellular regeneration as we knew them.

"The Project wanted to see if the technology could be implanted inside a human body to combat or even prevent aging. But regrettably, they tested on the Gormotti and the Nopon first. Most of those experiments went horribly wrong. Nia was the only exception. The experiments gave her the ability to draw energy from the air and use it to heal herself and others."

"It is like magic, then," Lora whispered, still shocked.

"I can't explain how it works, to be honest," Nia sighed.

"Why are you only just now using this power?" Rex asked. "You could have helped save a lot of people!"

Rex meant no harm, but his remark made Nia's face go pale again. "After the Calamity, there was...an accident. Some people took me in. They tried to hide me from the Project's bounty hunters. And when one of them got hurt protecting me, I panicked. I-I accidentally hurt them both."

"Oh." Rex went quiet.

"We don't have any exact information, unfortunately," Addam continued. "Most of her files were destroyed in the crash. But we suspect that the Calamity skewed the latent energy in the air, making her abilities...unpredictable. So we kept them hidden."

Zeke shook his head. "I can't say that makes a lick of sense, but I guess we'll just have to accept it, won't we? I mean, we all saw it ourselves. And beggars can't be choosers, eh?"

The thudding of the door above grew louder and more insistent, like a battering ram on the verge of fulfilling its purpose.

"Rex-Rex, must hurry! Less talk, more fixing!"

The young salvager nodded and returned to his task, this time taking extra care with the exposed wires. Nia still clung to him as he worked, but he didn't seem to mind. Meanwhile, the older soldiers returned to the upper deck, ready to defend again should the Guldo break through. But by some stroke of luck, the strained iron and tired hinges held even as the Elysium's engine spluttered back into action. Then came the mad dash to the ship's bridge to employ that newly-restored engine.

"Everybody hold on," Rex grimaced. "This could be a bumpy ride."

No one bothered to ask him how on earth he knew how to pilot such a large vessel. Somehow, they all knew it felt just... right to have him take the lead with the Elysium.

Now for the moment of truth, they all thought. Would the repairs to the engine be enough? Or had the ship sustained other damages they didn't know about? Rex gently coaxed the controls. The engine seemed to cough and wheeze as the Elysium fought months of inertia and disuse, straining against the buildings it had collapsed against. Nia crossed her fingers. Lora pressed her talisman against her chin for good luck. Tora did an odd little dance, as if his sporadic cheerleading could inspire the ship into motion. Mòrag felt Zeke's fingernails dig into the back of her hand.

Ten horrid seconds passed.

Finally, the ship lurched upwards and forwards, tearing away from its damaged gangplank and the invading Guldo.

A chorus of squeals, laughter, and happy tears ensued. They'd beaten the odds. What should have been a best-case scenario of three survivors had turned into all six of them, safe and sound. Exhausted perhaps, but alive.

"Well done, everyone," Addam applauded them over the radio. "Excellent work. To you especially, Rex."

The young man blushed and stammered out an incomplete thank-you. Nia pulled him into a bear hug. At the same time, Tora bounced up and down, trying (and failing) to give Rex a high-five while screaming some nonsense about "Rex-Rex the heropon." Zeke clapped Rex on the back, shaking the younger soldier's entire frame.

"Ouch, you guys! Take it easy! I nearly died today, you know."

"Yes, and you nearly gave me a heart attack, you arsehole," Nia spat back. "Don't you ever do that to me again, you hear?"

Rex nodded sheepishly. "Promise!" he squeaked.

The two older female soldiers observed all of this and merely rolled their eyes. For now, a little immaturity—both in behavior and expressing feelings—was permissible, they decided. When the initial excitement lessened, Lora finally moved forward and placed a gentle hand on Rex's shoulder.

"I'm glad you're okay, Rex," she said sweetly. "Now, let's go home."

A/N: Hooooo, boy. One more chapter left to go.

Quick notes before I close: sorry for psyching you out with a chapter break after "killing off" Rex. Well, I'm not completely sorry. But anyway. I don't know if I could actually stomach killing Rex. He's a dork sometimes, but he's too pure of a cinnamon roll to destroy. So here he is, alive and well (but hopefully more cautious with wires now).

Next, the whole concept of Nia having her powers (well, sort of) is kind of weird. I like to imagine that the people in Morytha (or whatever it was called when it wasn't the land of the dead) tried to accomplish a lot of wild feats with technology, which ultimately led to their downfall. I honestly think the canon supports that idea. So while Blades didn't necessarily exist until the Architect "created" Alrest, I think the world before it might have attempted to create something like Blades in an attempt to chase immortality, which might lead to an interesting result like this version of Nia.

Either way, since this is an AU, I'm entitled to plenty of creative license. So I took it. That said, I'm not 100% thrilled with this current result, so I may come back and rewrite this later.

I tried to draw a loose (admittedly very loose) parallel between Addam's relationship with Mythra and his relationship with Nia in this AU. I honestly like the fact that Addam fails to be a good Driver for Mythra in the Torna DLC—I find Addam's terror of going bad and abusing the Aegis powers and his subsequent emotional neglect towards her to be an intriguing and relatable character flaw. So I wanted to make a loose parallel with Nia's potentially deadly capabilities. Not sure I quite did it justice, but it's a WIP.

Okay, I've rambled enough for now. Chapter 4/4 will be up as soon as I can manage it. The title will be "After Despair and Hope." And I hope you'll stick around for it. 'Til next time!