Word: Hope

Death, mentions of wanting suicide (though I promise, it's a happier ending :), 1.1k words

A sigh.

This wasn't what he wanted.

He doubted it was what anyone ever wanted, really.

Though he also doubted anyone had experienced anything quite like this. Maybe someone else whose partner broke so many rules, whose partner went to the ends of the world for them.

Though he doubted anyone was as crazy as Dakota.

Albeit, the memories of deaths that flooded him, each rush longer and longer as more deaths were added, weren't pleasant.

Cavendish sighed again, his discorporal body shifting slightly in the air above his now still real body. This death wasn't as gruesome as most of the deaths, thankfully. When he died, and got that overwhelming rush of life-before-his-eyes, especially previous deaths, they tended to be more...macabre. This time, they were simply stuck in the freezing mountains on some mundane mission that Block had sent them on, something to stop Cavendish's complaining of constant pistachio missions. Why must he complain so? You'd think he'd learn his lesson, after so many deaths.

...Although, he supposed not. After all, it wasn't like he could remember these deaths. Every time Dakota went back, Cavendish, the one here and now, in this ghostly body, simply...disappeared. Then reappeared in his living, healthy body. Without memory.

It was quite strange, actually. He tried to figure it out in the time he'd been a...ghost, for lack of better word. They were up to the high 80's in deaths, plus, some of them took a while. Sometimes Dakota was stuck wherever he was, and it took him a while to get to the time vehicle. He had time to think.

And it seemed now was one of those times too. He frowned, drifting a little closer to his partner, who shivered as icy winds battered him. Cavendish's head was slumped against his shoulder, unmoving, as Dakota shifted him slightly. His voice was small as he spoke.

"C-Cav? Yuh...wake?"

He pressed his discorporal lips together. Dakota didn't seem too well, either. He hoped he wouldn't experience what he did. It was bad enough, what he did, but the idea that Dakota might follow him into...wherever he was. He didn't want to think about it.

His attention snapped back as Dakota slipped his thick mittens off, pressing pale fingers against his corporal body's neck, underneath his tightly wound scarf. A sigh, and he slipped the mitten back on. "Ah, shit."

"Sorry, Dakota." He muttered, settling next to his partner, on the other side of his dead body. "I tried this time."

"Damnit, Cav." He shifted as he spoke, "Though, I guess it's lucky it was kinda peaceful. I hope."

Cavendish let his head fall back, being careful not to phase through the icy cliff behind him, watching as powdery snowflakes swirled about them. "Hmph. I suppose it was. Not as bad as the other deaths. And the snow was rather peaceful, yes."

He didn't know why he kept answering Dakota, after so many deaths.

...

It helped.

"Gotta remember to log this into the notebook. Think it's number 87. Frozen on ah mountain. What a way to go, huh? I guess...I'll just have to convince you or Block not to go on this mission. Probably would be easiest."

Oh yes, the notebook. Was it already Death 87? It felt...less? More? He couldn't tell. Both, probably.

Though, he was surprised Dakota didn't bring his notebook. The one that he logged all the deaths in. In situations like this, his partner typically smuggled the notebook with them, since it was practically inevitable that Cavendish was going to die. It seemed to be unavoidable this time, so why had Dakota decided against bringing it?

"Probably should've brought the Notebook, though." Dakota muttered as he rummaged through his backpack. Yes, you should have. "I dunno, guess I didn't want it to get wet." Really?

Dakota sighed, pausing his movements. He passed a glancing look at Cavendish's body, and said male levitated to look at Dakota's eyes. Behind the snow visor, colored blue and green, he looked...lost. And scared.

"Dakota?"

"But...I don't know, Cav. I'm getting really tired of this." The bag dropped from his hold. Cavendish hovered closer, anxiety pulling at his now nonexistent chest. "The constant deaths, bringing you back. I'm tired of watching each and every death."

Was he...crying?

"Vinnie…" Though he knew it wouldn't be felt, he pressed a hand to Dakota's cheek. What was he saying?

"I'm so tired of it, Cav. I don't know if I can keep going with it. I just...I just want to stop it. All of it. Me. I want to stop...me?"

"Vincent…" Cavendish wanted to cry. He wanted to hit Dakota, slap him, hug him, hold him as close as humanly possible, even if it would make him uncomfortable. He wanted to do everything in his power to convince Dakota that he shouldn't...do what he was suggesting. "Darling, I'm so sorry. I'm sorry, I know how much this hurts you. Dear, please, I beg you, if it's hurting you like this, stop saving me. Stop doing this. Just save yourself, darling. I can't bear to think of this world without you. Darling, please."

He wished Dakota could hear his words. He wished Dakota knew how much the world needed him. Not just to save Cavendish, but just to be himself. To be happy and living his life as much as possible. It practically angered Cavendish, hearing Dakota wanting to stop his life. Because of him.

Blast, he hated this. He wished he could remember this. He wanted to comfort Dakota. He hated not knowing, and acting like a jerk, all because he couldn't remember. And feeling like shit because he had to relive his decisions and actions every. Single. Death.

It was a nightmare.

"But."

Dakota sniffed, and Cavendish snapped out of his thoughts. His partner raised a mitten to his snow visor, making a movement as though he were wiping away his tears, though he couldn't do that thanks to the visor. Cavendish smiled slightly at the unnecessary movement.

"I know you probably wouldn't want that."

"Bloody right I wouldn't." He huffed.

Dakota stood, fixing his body in a more relaxed position. "I'm so tired of this Cav.

"But you're so worth it. I'll keep going. Just for you, Bal. You're worth it."

He grabbed Cavendish's ice pick. "Sorry. Hope you don't mind."

Cavendish chuckled, spiraling around his partner to levitate next to him. "No worries. I don't."

With a final huff, Dakota hefted the pick, slowly fighting against the pummeling snow and wind back the way they came, teeth chattering. Cavendish floated right by his side the entire time.

He had to give it to his partner. Throughout it all, no matter the death, his partner never gave up hope.

It seemed to be the last thing Dakota would dare to lose.

Thank you so much for reading! I've always loved the idea that Cavendish actually remembers the deaths, in his ghostly form, and I've always wanted to expand on the idea! Let me know what you think of it, and if I should make a more in depth story for it, because I've always wanted to! :D

As always, I really hope you enjoyed! Reviews and constructive criticism are always appreciated! Hope y'all have an incredible morning/afternoon/evening/night! Take care of yourself and say hello and chat to an old friend or family member!