And I would whistle in the dark
'Cause I felt safe while all alone
Well, it's time that I let all the dead be the dead
There's no honor in suffering
No reward 'cause you've bled
The rest can sort itself out

Guilt – Radical Face


?

You go to the dark plane with the tower. The land is fertile but you don't think you are here to farm. You're here to fight- just one soldier of many. The grass is trampled underfoot from the army, broken and ground into the hard-packed dirt that could hold fields of golden millet if it weren't a warzone.

The sun sets between a notch in the mountains, casting fractal patterns on the ground. You can't tell if they are river tributaries or synapses or Lichtenberg scars. They spider their way across the land, casting unreal shadows upon the people and the spaces between them.

The fighting has already begun. There are some faces here you recognize but there are plenty that you don't. You know this is not your dream. You wander towards the chaos with a detached sense of curiosity. You, at least, have no real urge for violence.

Suddenly he is there- the owner of this place, or perhaps its prisoner. He is more real than the space around him, in dull brown and brilliant orange. There is an unfamiliar shotgun in his hands and an even more unfamiliar mask of rage on his face.

He brings the gun up and you spin out of the way automatically. He's almost as fast as you, so you still take a grazing shot to the side. The pain of it surprises you- isn't this a dream? You end up on your back on the dusty earth, stunned. Shiro-4 plants a boot on your chest and aims the shotgun at your head.


Azra woke with a start. It was dark and would be unpleasantly cool if she weren't wrapped around Cayde. His presence immediately took the edge of fear away. Azra extricated herself and sat up, blinking. Her eyes refused to adjust to the dark.

Right. They'd made camp in a small cave smack dab in the middle of the old American Empire. Being underground would hold the temperature steady through the colder nights. It also made it literally impossible to see.

Spark cast his dimmest flashlight at the ceiling. The ambient light it scattered was more than enough to make out her surroundings. There were the sprawled forms of the other Hunters, all solidly unconscious. Her eyes picked out the familiar shoulder of Shiro-4 on the far side of the pile. He seemed just as dead to the world as he always did sleeping. He was even snoring lightly.

There was something wrong, still. It only took a second to realize, another to double-count, but yes, there were only four people in the room. Shiro, Tevis, her, and Cayde. She sighed. Of course he'd be up still.

She shifted carefully to not wake her little spoon and threw on a jacket over her sleepwear. After a moment's hesitation, she settled her cloak over top, though she left the hood down. Spark extinguished his light and the two made their way out of the cave by touch.


December 02, 2785; Crew's Camp, Sloan's Valley, Old America, Earth

The last vestiges of the dream faded away as Azra slipped into the cool night air. She blinked owlishly at the firelight, so bright after the absolute black down below. Andal had the fire roaring. It was hot enough to melt the thin layer of frost that had gathered on the stone and wood of the hillside.

Andal looked worse for wear. He was tapping a pen idly on his notebook, face propped up in one hand as he stared at the shifting flames. His distant expression shifted to one of concern as he caught sight of Azra.

He straightened almost guiltily. "What're you doing up?" he asked. Azra just quirked an eyebrow. The Gunslinger shook his head in defeat and moved to make room on his log. Azra slumped her way over, still stiff from sleep. She scrubbed the sand from her eyes and stared at the fire until her vision steadied.


Then

"Sit rep!" Andal called. Azra reloaded her sidearm with hurried fingers. Other voices echoed on the comms feed.

"Holding steady here!"

"Same!"

"There's at least three Wizards in that pit!"

"Hold off, then," Andal commanded. "That's a job for incendiaries. Word from Kresten's Ghost?"

"Nothing."

"Not getting pings from Jason-8, either!"

Azra herself was too busy to answer. Thrall came from the left and the right. She threw a grenade underhand at the further pack and emptied her clip into the closer one. No Thrall made it to her position, but the dank tunnel air was still ringing with screams.

A Boomer shot came streaking through from out of her range of awareness. It slammed her into the wall, shields breaking, helmet cracking loudly against the rough stone. She took a second to be grateful that she hadn't dropped her gun, that Boomers fired slowly, that she'd cleared the immediate area so she had time to blink the stars from her eyes.

More missiles screamed through the air around her. Acolytes added their voices to the song of destruction, purple shrieks whizzing through the air to accompany the blue-white Boomer shots. Azra pulled her scout rifle and bit back a few retorts. The Knight spun back into cover. The Acolytes weren't so fast.

But then there were more Thrall, forcing her back down the tunnel. Azra wished she'd gotten a hold of the invisibility trick by now. She could really use a few spare seconds to catch her breath and reload her weapons. She couldn't even hold her ground, much less push forward.

"Azra!" Andal's bark broke through her concentration. "I need-"

"Busy!" Azra gasped. She let the Arc flow, turned to the side, and kicked a bolt of lightning into the nearest Hive. It spiderwebbed out through the pack and the Thrall shrieks dissolved into the telltale tinkling of dead chitin. She placed a hand on the wall and took a second to let the world steady. Her mental tally came up positive. "…But I'm not in over my head. Yet." It was much Darker than they had been expecting, but Azra figured she could still pull a Staff on command.

Pace yourself, Spark chided, so Azra ducked the next time an Acolyte bolt came lancing out of the dim distance. She'd retreated to a brood chamber, which meant there was cover, if sparse. She'd popped all the eggs when she'd come through the first time. The ground was sticky with yellow-green fluids. "I'm in a brood chamber," she reported when she had the spare breath. "Heavy resistance ahead. Knights, Acolytes. Haven't seen the Broodqueen yet but she's bound to be down here somewhere."

"We're rallying on you," Andal said. "Hold there."

"I'll try my damnedest," Azra replied. Spark whisked the sidearm from her hands and deposited a short-barreled shotgun instead. They both heard the telltale heavy tread of the Knight's footsteps around the corner.


Now

The firelight was so bright that the dark circles under Andal's eyes were obvious. "You need rest, too," Azra chided softly once she was sure her voice wouldn't crack. "We have that Ishtar strike tomorrow-"

"I'll be good for the strike," Andal rumbled. "Don't worry about me."

"Too late," Azra said lightly. "I don't like it when you get all insomniac. Doesn't suit you." Or rather, it suited him too well. Andal was at his best when he wasn't worrying, but he always worried. She just hated to see him like this.

The silence that followed was almost oppressive. Azra rooted around in her hoodie pocket and fished out a glittering blue cube. She rolled it between her fingers. "Glimmer for your thoughts?"

Andal plucked the currency deftly from her hand. Azra was surprised. 'Glimmer for your thoughts' hardly ever worked. The Gunslinger pocketed the cube smoothly and sighed. There was a long pause. Azra wasn't worried, because he'd taken the payment, and he always kept his word.

"Should have seen it coming," Andal murmured eventually.

"How, exactly?" Azra asked. Their raid had gone poorly. People had died. But it hadn't been Andal's fault.

"My command," Andal said. "The intel was too sparse. I should have led us with more caution."

Azra frowned. "I read the debrief, just like you. You made all the right calls. Our info was just bad."

"Well maybe I shouldn't have had so much faith in the info. We should have been prepared for more than just a seedling Hive nest."

"Oh," Azra said. She let the silence hang for a minute, though she knew exactly what she was going to say. "I didn't know you were psychic, Andal. You're right, with your omniscience you definitely should have brought more reinforcements."

"I'm not joking-"

"Neither am I!" Azra said. "How could you reasonably look at that and think it was your fault? Look, I scoured the reports as much as you did. You'd trust my judgement on something like this, right?"

Andal shifted, obviously uncomfortable. He did, but he didn't want to admit it. Azra continued. "The disturbance was only reported a few weeks ago. It's not like Cape Town is neglected for patrols. And the bedrock is hard. There's absolutely no reason to expect there to be that big of a nest."

"But there was that big of a nest," Andal reminded. "And that should not have meant-"

Azra wasn't done. "Kresten was forward. So the ground wasn't steady and she broke through into a pit. That happens when you're forward scout, Andal. You have to be careful even if you think there's nothing there. She wasn't." He grimaced, but Azra shrugged. "Not to be callous, but it's not on you if she got in over her head. You can't be cautious for us, that's not how it works."

"And if I'd put you on point?" Andal asked bleakly.

Azra considered the question. It was only fair. "If you'd put me on point," she reasoned, "I wouldn't be waltzing about a Hive nest like I expect the floor to hold up." He looked at her skeptically, but she raised her chin in challenge. "Honestly then, Andal. Should we take twenty people to clear out the next seeder nest that pops up?"

Andal didn't speak, so Azra answered the question for him. "That's such a waste of resources and you know it. We're spread thin enough as it is. Or should we not risk Hive nests at all? Just let them fester and build until the Earth is as cracked as the Moon?"

"Kresten and Jason-8 are still dead, Azra," Andal said bitterly. "Someone's got to take the blame. I was in charge."

"If I heard anyone else insinuating these things about you, I'd stab them on principle." She pulled her belt dagger, a warning flashing in her eyes.

Andal just shook his head and stared back at the fire. He was still too wrapped up in his head. This conversation was too important. Andal held his pen firmly like he was afraid what words would come out of it if he put it to paper. He spoke like the guilt would scar him.

He opened his mouth to speak.

Then he stopped, because Azra stabbed him. She knew just how much force was needed, exactly where to place the blade. It slipped between the thin armor plates he still wore easily.

Andal looked down at the hilt sticking out of his stomach with alarm. "You stabbed me," he stated.

Azra crossed her arms. "You were moping. Serves you right."

"You stabbed-" he cut himself off with a hiss of pain as he wrapped a hand around the grip. Azra knew how that felt. Shock and disbelief were fantastic painkillers, at least until the illusion broke.

The Gunslinger pulled the dagger from his side with a jerk and a grunt of exertion. Charin appeared to heal the wound. Andal stared at the red-slicked blade, then at Azra, that same confounded expression on his face. "…I'm keeping the knife," he finally said.

"That's fine," Azra said casually. "I have more." She held his gaze, daring him to say more dumb things to require more daggers to stab him with.

There was a moment of tension. Then Andal burst out laughing, so loud it startled Azra. It echoed off of the trees. Azra couldn't help but smile as the Gunslinger descended into giggles. Andal's Ghost took both the knife (guess Azra wasn't getting that back after all) and his notebook.

"Ah," Andal said, wiping tears from his eyes, "I needed that."

"Anyone else," Azra said, "Anyone but you and you wouldn't think to blame them. It's always got to be your fault."

The Gunslinger held out an arm. Azra scooched over obligingly and Andal rested his head on her shoulder. Azra wound a hand around his hip and tangled her fingers in his belt loops.

The Arcstrider frowned, not quite ready to let the conversation go. "Really, Andal, what would you do? It's not like we have tons of Guardians sitting around to call up for low-level stuff. Trying to map the nests with radar just riles the Hive up or makes 'em scatter. It took months to root them all out from Australia."

"I know," Andal murmured.

"So what's the point in blaming yourself for this? What can you even say you'll do differently next time?"

"Next time," the Gunslinger mused, "I'll put you on point."

Azra snorted at that suggestion. Andal tightened his grip on her shoulder. "No, really," he insisted. "You handled yourself well. You always handle yourself well. You said you could take point and… well, I've never seen you overestimate yourself."

Azra must have done something to express more doubt. Andal slapped her (rather ineffectually) with the hand he'd draped over her shoulder. "Serves you right," he quoted when Azra made an offended noise. Azra could do nothing but shrug.

"Why do you always try to argue with me," Andal murmured, "when I compliment you?" His hand fiddled idly with Azra's cape clasp.

"I guess for the same reason you're out here beating yourself up over something you know isn't your fault," Azra replied.

The Gunslinger chuckled at that. The two Hunters watched the fire wrap its fingers around the now-charred logs.

"I knew this was the right choice," Andal finally said.

"What was?" Azra asked.

"This," he said plainly. "You. I'm glad you're around to talk me out of my own head. Thank you."

Azra rested her cheek on his slightly greasy hair and thought there wasn't anywhere else she'd rather be. With the sweater and the cloak and the fire it was too warm, but she didn't care. She closed her eyes, drinking the moment in through her Lightsense. The world dipped and swayed slightly.

"Promise me something," Andal murmured.

"'Course," Azra said.

She didn't really hear what he said asked. She was warm and safe and Andal was safe too. It seemed like the most natural thing in the world to drift off.


?

"What are we going to do with you two," Shiro muttered. Azra blinked blearily up at him. Andal groaned and shifted. The fire had burned down low at some point, though it was still very dark out. Shiro-4 stood over the two semiconscious Hunters, hands on his hips.

"I blame Andal," Azra said. The Gunslinger let out a short bark of laughter in response and levered himself more upright. Azra followed suit halfheartedly. She'd been so comfortable lying still, but now she'd moved her neck and shoulder were making their complaints known.

Shiro was gentle at least, offering a hand to pull Azra to her feet. "Let's get you two inside. I hear sleeping works best when you're lying down."

"Alright," Andal muttered. "Laying on the sarcasm a bit thick there." He slouched ahead, shuffling awkwardly through the cave entrance.

Shiro helped steady Azra when it turned out one of her legs was asleep. The two Hunters contemplated the tail end of Andal's cape as it slipped underground. "Is he doing alright?" Shiro asked, low and quiet.

"Yeah," Azra said. "He's fine." She felt she could say that with confidence.

"Hate it when he gets mopey," the Bladedancer muttered.

Azra frowned and flexed her toes. Something faint stirred her memory. Her brain was still scrambled from sleep. "Did you… shoot me in the head recently?" She shifted her weight as the pins-and-needles faded.

Shiro paused. When he spoke, he sound almost insulted. "Well maybe stay in your own dreams and you won't be the one getting shot next time."

So it had been a dream. Well, this Arcstrider had done enough work for the night. "Nah," Azra said. "Asking me to stay put? You should know better." She limped her way towards the cave entrance.

Shiro followed, exasperated. "Well, wherever you go, try and get some sleep. We have that strike in Ishtar in five hours."


NOTE: Hey! So this is the last side piece* I had written that I wanted to flesh out into more than just a snippet (at least that happens before the Red War). We're looking at a temporary end, hiatus, or at the very least slow-down for this volume.

*Second-to-last piece. Throughout the writing process I've ended up making a sort of 'story bible' for myself to reference to help keep internal consistency. I'm in the process of turning that into a pseudo-wiki for the funsies because I hate myself.

If you have any characters or events you'd like more info on, or any questions about this universe answered, feel free to drop me a line in the comments or my PMs. For extra anonymity you could also poke me in the Tumblr (poorlytunedukulele) I created years ago and will never post anything on! Ask me questions, ask the omniscient narrator questions, ask the characters questions! Projectile vomit word babble onto my screen! Alternate timelines? What-ifs? Never-before-seen scenes? Things I mentioned once and forgot ever existed? Anything might make it into the wiki or inspire additional chapters.

I do want to make it clear I am not taking requests, per se, because if I don't want to write something it's not going to get written. The only guarantee I can offer is that I will go 'hmmmmmm' for a few minutes and see if the inspiration fairy shows up.

That's it for right now. Catch you on the flipside, and Happy Hunting!