Warning for blood, violence, near-death.

Looking back, Regulus had a few regrets.

For one, letting Sirius tag along with him, and two, letting his brother take all the credit for the kills because Regulus was a healer, not a fighter, and no one knew how handy he was with a knife.

He'd found the knife in the wreckage of an armory; most of the other weapons had been melted into steaming piles of metal but a couple of them had remained intact, both knives. Regulus's had a silver and gold-encrusted handle, and it fit in his hand perfectly. When he gripped the knife, he immediately felt stronger.

Sirius had grabbed the other knife, one that had a plain handle except for decorative green vines snaking around it. He used it now, slashing into the chest of a sickly-pale zombie.

Regulus, meanwhile, had his own zombies to deal with. He stabbed the shoulder of one zombie and kicked its groin, sending it reeling backward. Regulus just remembered to withdraw his knife. He spun and kicked another in the crotch. He grinned as it let out a low howl — men were always weak there, no matter what species they were.

Ten minutes later, it was over, and Regulus grimaced as he touched his face. His cheek stung, but it was only a cut.

Thank goodness for the mirror, he thought, or we never would have seen this attack coming. They came so quickly…

A meter away, Sirius brushed the sweat from his brow. Except for a few small cuts on his arms and legs, he seemed unscathed.

"Are you okay?" asked Sirius, giving him a once-over. "Those were some particularly nasty ones…"

"I'm fine," he said wearily. Pulling out the mirror from his pocket (it wasn't cracked, thankfully), he saw the sparkling words etched in black on the glass, over his reflection: Have a weapon in your hand.

The weapon bit had been a dead giveaway.

It had saved their lives.

They'd been traveling for two days straight now, only stopping at night to sleep. They encountered a few other people, who gave them curt nods, exchanged a few words, and went on their way. Everyone had an understanding: it was everyone for themselves.

It had been just him and Sirius for a while now, and he found that he was okay with that — after all, there was no one else he trusted more to have his back.

The mirror gave them simple advice — only to be patient and to conserve food.

On the third day, the words changed again. This time, they were golden, and Regulus pursed his lips — gold meant something extra important.

Go to the north today. Keep your eyes open.

"Didn't we just come from the north?" Sirius complained, but the mirror had never led them wrong, so they turned around and headed in the direction they had just come.

As instructed, Regulus kept studying their surroundings, his stomach rolling with anxiety and his mind churning with speculations. Would there be an attack? Would they have to fight their way through a horde?

And then he heard a human shout pierce the silence. It sounded panicked.

Sirius had heard it too, and the pair of them picked up the pace until they were haring through the underbrush. Regulus hurdled over a root. Blood was roaring in his ears.

"There!" shouted Sirius needlessly, for Regulus saw it too. He almost stopped, too, if the urgency wasn't so strong.

A man was trapped in the center of a circle of zombies. Silver flashed as he fought, ducking and twirling and Regulus was almost impressed by his speed. At first glance, it didn't look like he didn't need any help — but then he saw the numerous wounds on his face, and he didn't dare to look down. The zombies were using him as a scratching post.

With an almighty yell, Sirius leaped into the fray, and Regulus was not far behind him. A few zombies snarled as they suddenly found themselves in a fair fight. Regulus slashed, stabbed, and dodged; he was blindly attacking anything he could reach. The feel of his blade sinking into zombie flesh was satisfying — disgusting, but satisfying.

It was thrilling.

Finally, when the last zombie lay at his feet, Regulus blinked and looked around. First, he sought his brother, who was panting — but he caught Regulus's gaze and gave a slight shake of his head. He was fine.

In the heat of the battle, Regulus had forgotten about the third fighter. A low, husky groan alerted them to his presence, and Regulus spun. The man lay crouching on his hands and knees, blood trickling from his mouth — and then he slumped, rolling over, and his hands jumped to a place on his chest.

Without thinking, Regulus dropped his backpack and ran for him, falling to his knees and attempting to pry the man's fingers away from his chest. The man continued to clutch his chest.

"Move your hands," snapped Regulus, "I'm only trying to help you."

The man's hazel eyes blinked at him slowly, and his hands slid limply off his chest, coated in crimson blood. Regulus cursed. He shouldn't have dropped his backpack because what he needed was in there.

Something landed with a thump next to him and Regulus, muttering a hasty thank you to his brother, dug in. He pulled out a small knife and began cutting away the man's shirt, revealing the deep, nasty wound beneath. A sharp gasp came somewhere to his right, but Regulus didn't falter; his mind had gone from a state of anger to a state of calm. His focus was on his patient.

Regulus's hands moved swiftly, knowing exactly what he had to do; he had done this many times before the apocalypse, and he could do it without thinking.

C'mon, he thought desperately as the man's breathing grew shallower. I have to save you...I can't let another life be taken by this bloody apocalypse.

"Will he make it?" Sirius knelt next to him, gazing anxiously at the man, whose face was bloodless.

"He has to," Regulus answered without looking at him. I don't know how I'd live with the guilt.

After five more minutes of calm, methodical, yet frenzied work, Regulus sat back. The man's breathing had deepened and the bleeding had stopped, and Regulus sighed.

"Will he be okay?" Sirius asked. While Regulus had been working, he'd gone and sat on a tree stump, watching him move with apparent fascination.

"I think so." He hoped so. "For the time being, though, we're going to have a companion."

They remained where they were for the rest of day, since the man couldn't be moved for risk of reopening his chest wound. Regulus wrapped him in one of their blankets, and he volunteered to stay up and keep watch. He didn't really feel like sleeping; adrenaline still pumped through his veins, keeping him alert.

Sirius was asleep within minutes, his soft snoring the only noise in the night — that is, until faint whimpering drew Regulus's attention towards the man, who was shivering in his sleep. It took Regulus a moment to realize he was cold. The bitter wind did him no favors.

Casting his gaze around warily, he first went to Sirius, and roused him with a rough shake and the flashlight in his face.

"Wuzzgoinon?" His brother sat up abruptly, his face tense.

"Nothing, git," Regulus snapped. "It's your turn to keep watch."

"Already?" Grumbling and looking very much like he wanted to argue, Sirius shook the dead leaves out of his hair and stood, dropping his blanket in the grass. Pulling on an extra coat, he walked a few meters ahead and crossed his arms.

Regulus scooped up the forgotten blanket and went over to the man, who was murmuring nonsensically under his breath. He draped the blanket over him. He watched as the man's tremors subsided as the blankets warmed him up — but now Regulus had a problem. They only had two blankets.

"Bloody hell," he muttered, casting an unwilling glance at the patch of grass Sirius had been curled up on. It was either sleeping in the cold with only a coat, or…

Suddenly feeling hot under the collar, Regulus lowered himself onto the ground, took one look at the slumbering man, and…

This was ridiculous. Completely and utterly stupid. He didn't know what this man had, if he was ill with a contagious disease or something equally life-threatening, but fuck it was freezing and Regulus didn't fancy getting frostbite.

He decided to take the risk; while it would be embarrassing, Regulus didn't give a rat's arse. Survival was survival, and if he had to…

With a heavy sigh, Regulus turned to the man and curled up against his back.

Needless to say, they were both treated to a surprise in the morning — somehow, during the night, the man had rolled over, and Regulus, when he opened his eyes, he became immediately aware to the fact that A, he was being partially smothered, and B, they were face-to-face, so close that Regulus could hear him breathing.

And C, the most alarming revelation of them all, Regulus found that he didn't...mind. Not very much. He certainly didn't mind staring at the man's face; it was very pleasant to look at. He had long, almost feminine eyelashes and smooth, unmarred skin, unlike most people Regulus had stumbled across. He was also one of the first people Regulus had seen who wore glasses. He'd kept his black hair short, but a few locks lay draped across his forehead.

Regulus was perfectly content studying the man's face, in private, but unfortunately for him…

"Oi, Reg, what the hell are you doing?"

...he was doomed to have a perpetual thorn in his side.

"Reg," his very annoying brother repeated. "Wake up. We have to get moving. Stop snogging that man and get your arse up."

Flushing, Reg sat up, dislodging the blanket. "I wasn't snogging him," he shot back, maneuvering carefully so he didn't disturb the man. "It's called taking care of your patient — oh shut up, you wouldn't understand."

"Is that what they're calling it these days? I didn't know you had it in you, brother dearest."

"I was keeping him warm," Regulus snapped. "It was bloody freezing, and he was shivering."

Sirius just chuckled, shaking his head.

Over the course of the next few days, they traveled at a slow pace, as per the mirror's advice. The mirror guided them around zombie hotspots as if it knew they were traveling with an injured man. Regulus kept an eye on his healing.

One morning, he woke up to the sound of hushed voices. Plural. Not just Sirius's.

"...grateful to both of you," said an unfamiliar voice, but it was gentle and low, and didn't grate on Regulus's ears. "Is there any way I can repay you?"

"I wish I could answer that," replied Sirius quietly, "but really it's my brother you should be asking."

"Regulus?" He heard leaves rustle as the man shifted. Regulus remained absolutely still, straining his ears. "Yeah, I should thank him. He was the one who healed me. Where did he learn to do that? I haven't met many like him."

"He was going to be a doctor," Sirius said. "He was just about to graduate medical school and become a doctor when this shit went down. I guess we're lucky his skills didn't go to waste."

"Lucky, indeed," said the man.

The man's name was James, and as they continued to head north as per the mirror's instructions, the three of them bonded. In particular, Sirius and James bonded more, and Regulus secretly felt envious of how easily they connected. They had the same taste in humor (godawful puns), same way of thinking, and the only difference was that James laid off on teasing Regulus — perhaps as a silent thanks.

Regulus found that he didn't mind the company, and sometimes even he joined in on their conversations, because he liked the expression on James's face when he did. (He had pretty eyes that lit up whenever Regulus walked beside him.)

One morning. Regulus checked the mirror and froze.

In big, bold letters, there was only one command. RUN.

"What the hell were you thinking?" Regulus wrapped a bandage around the arm wound, scowling, and his heart was thundering loudly in his chest. James frowned, wincing.

"I was only trying to save you," he said quietly. "That zombie was about to bite you —"

"I know," hissed Regulus, "I was about to kick his balls, but then you had to jump in and play the bloody hero. Do you have any idea how reckless that was? What if you'd been bitten?"

"I knew what I was doing!" James argued, his voice rising in pitch.

"No, you didn't!"

"Listen to me! I couldn't stand it if you get hurt. I don't know what I'd do with myself." James breathed hard, and Regulus stopped as he registered the words.

He had no idea James cared that much, but it was a nice feeling.

At a loss for words, he finally mumbled, "Well, don't be so stupid next time."

"Well, I'll try my best, but when it's you involved…" James trailed off. "Fine, I'll be careful."

"Good."

2231 words

Written for:

Gobstones - Stone: Grey (Siblings); Accuracy: (object) knife; Power: (color) silver; Technique: "What the hell were you thinking?"

Would You Rather: Write a Crossover OR write an AU?

Fantasy February - Day One: Every morning when you first look in a mirror, you see a small piece of advice for that day, such as "take the subway to work" or "don't try the free pizza". Today, the mirror simply says, "RUN"

Sticker Club - Salazar Slytherin's Locket - Character: Regulus Black

Stop! Hamper Time - Jams - Peach Preserves: We won't live too long, so let's love for one song.

You Get My Love - Romantic - 9. (color) crimson

Character Appreciation - 17. Job: Doctor

Record Collection - 12. Over My Shoulder, Mike & the Mechanics: Start your story with the words, Looking back

Book Club - Sage: (au) thief, (trait) argumentative, (word) independent, (character) Sirius Black, (plot point) stealing something, (color) gold

Showtime - 2. No Way: (color) gold

Amber's Apothecary - 19. (color) green

Elizabeth's Empire - 3. (task) Write the OTP of a member of your house

Liza's Loves - 4. Cleric - Write about someone healing or in a healing profession.

Angel's Archives - R - (genre) Romance

SSS - (word) Independent

Scamander's Case - 24. (au) apocalypse

Film Festival - 23. (colour) Golden

Lyric Alley - 22. Blood on my shirt, heart in my hand

The Forecast Says…: 20th: Rain: Wrapping up warm

EnTitled - 18. Something Wicked - Write about someone reliving a situation that happened in the past (experiencing it again, not a flashback or memory) - Alt - Word: Reckless

365 - 86. (object) mirror

FB - 182. Thestral - Regulus Black

Scavenger Hunt - AU: Apocalypse