Writing to bridge gaps between has no real formula.

0o0o0o

Ivan put down the device. Yao's proverb. To say it aloud, to say it to his sister felt strange and out of place. But she needed it. They all needed the touch of fate to try to fix what they'd broken and more now.

The redness of the wine seemed to stain his fingers. Ivan paced the room and thought. The question was not if he had been drugged now, but why. What part did he play in whatever strange game the fleets were in except for a pawn? Why would he be important enough to target?

It was too much to ponder alone, late at night with his sister's confusing and confused words still ringing in his head, but he couldn't run to Yao. Yao didn't know that Ivan could have been drugged, and it would only make him angrier and rasher, enhanced by his own heightened state. Kiku didn't need to warn him not to tell this time. Kiku didn't have to say Yao was sharper and restless now. Ivan knew better.

Ivan forced himself to stop pacing. He would have to think things through and consider every decision to ensure safety. He sat down on his bed and unclasped his coat. He could monitor his own symptoms and get a grasp on Yao's state. With that in mind, he could manage to touch the alien metal humming on his chest and listen for his heart. It was faint underneath the humming, but it seemed normal. Ivan buttoned his coat back up, relieved.

Should he call Kiku and tell him? Ivan was halfway to dialing before he thought again. Perhaps it was a bad idea, but so long as he promised Yao would not know, it would be fine. And Ivan could ask him for a cure.

Images of shredded wires and cracked plastic fluttered through his head. Leon. He turned them away.

Nevertheless, Ivan decided, Kiku was his ally. He dialed and waited. He didn't wait long.

0o0o0o

Kiku was woken by an insistent buzzing, and his first thought was to go back to sleep. He rolled over with a groan and squinted at the caller ID. Ivan.

He pressed TALK.

'You will not tell Yao anything I say?'

'What happened, Ivan?' he asked tiredly. 'I will not tell Yao.'

'Has he told you that the wine was the cause of his drug?' Ivan asked.

'He has.'

'I think I may have been drugged the same way.'

It was a dull hit to his stomach. He didn't know what he felt. Ivan was Yao's to think of, not his. Ivan was an ally, a strange and dangerous ally, but Kiku did not want him to die.

'What proof do you have?' Kiku mumbled. His head was still fuzzy with sleep.

'None.' The answer was decisive and shameless. 'My leader offered me wine.'

'No symptoms?'

'Not yet. But they grow worse as time goes on, do they not?' Ivan sounded almost fearful then. Something in Kiki's head whispered that maybe he feared the virus more than he'd admit.

'We assume so.' Kiku tried to focus on his clock. Nearly one in the morning. 'We should take you to a doctor, Ivan.'

'I don't go to doctors.'

'You have to.'

'I can handle it myself, Kiku.' Ivan sounded more dangerous than Kiku had ever heard. 'Whether you help me or not.'

'We have to monitor the symptoms-'

'I have no symptoms!' Ivan shouted. His voice broke.

Kiku paused, staring down at the glowing screen. 'Ivan,' he said slowly. 'Have you ever had a doctor?'

'Doctors don't take patients who they think are beyond hope,' Ivan whispered. Kiku felt a strange surge of empathy for his strange, dangerous potential ally.

'The Nordic exchange doctors. They are fair, as far as I know. They won't...dismiss you.' Kiku waited, tense, his words tumbling out in a rush.

'If you want,' Ivan said after a long pause.

'Check further to see if you have any symptoms while I contact them,' Kiku directed, relief and perhaps hope flooding his body. 'I'll be back soon.'

Kiku set down the device and rubbed his eyes. He hadn't gotten enough sleep in days. But what could he expect, with Yao to care for?

His bed beckoned, but Kiku slipped out from under the covers to stand on the chilled floor and dial Emil. He was directed to voicemail almost three times before Emil picked up.

'What do you want at one AM from me, Kiku?' he asked blearily.

'I need you to test Ivan Braginsky for the same drugs Yao had.'

Silence across the line until Emil laughed, hoarse with sleep. 'You are insane.'

'You will?' Kiku asked. Another silence.

'I will,' Emil said finally. 'Meet me at the Russian medical bay in fifteen minutes. I have to get Doctor Oxenstierna.' Emil laughed again, defeated and tired. 'You are insane, Kiku.'

'Caring for Yao has its side effects.'

'It must.' Emil sounded exhausted, and ended the call.

Kiku typed out a quick message to Ivan and set off.

0o0o0o

Emil stood in the middle of the floor, cold and shivering. Beside him, Berwald was stony-faced with hair sticking up, and Tino was fixing his own rumpled hair in the shiny surface of a scalpel.

'You said Iv'n was gett'ng tested?' Berwald asked. Emil nodded, shifting from foot to foot on the cool tile. The medical bay was empty and dim, and none of them had dared to turn on the lights.

The door slid open silently. Ivan and Kiku stepped inside. Kiku nodded to them, and began explaining to Berwald what they needed to do. Emil wasn't listening. He was staring at Ivan, at his scarf and his coat and listening for the humming that was said to come from his machinery, the machinery that he had advised for Leon, the machinery that had killed Leon-

Emil felt the old pain swim back up, choking him, cutting off his air. Leon. His Leon, dead because of this man.

It was easy to think that, he tried to convince himself. Ivan was not the one who did the surgery. The coughing virus would have killed him anyways. But Emil had met Leon in all his fire for the first time when he came to the medical ward, when he already had the virus, and it was easier to imagine he'd never been any different.

Emil couldn't look at Ivan anymore. He dropped his gaze to the polished tiles of the floor and tried to breathe deeply, to not reimagine Leon's voice, Leon's teasing, Leon's single frantic kiss late at night through hospital masks and Emil's sobbing recklessness, his desperate pleading, you'll get sick, Emil's hoarse whispering, kiss me anyways-

'Emil.'

His head snapped up. Ivan stood in front of him. Emil's mouth was dry and sour. He wanted to rage and shout and make Ivan pay, make him bring Leon back, all of which was impossible.

'What?' he whispered. His voice was dry and choked. 'What?'

'I'm sorry.'

Emil wanted to scoff and deny his apology because it was just two words to replace Leon, but the anger wouldn't come. He just felt empty. Perhaps later, the forgiveness would come. Perhaps.

Ivan walked away to Berwald and Tino, and Emil stood alone again. The medical bay echoed too much with the ghost of Leon's voice, and it was too painful, too much, too many memories.

Emil slipped out the door. Nobody noticed him go.

0o0o0o

The observatory where they'd released the ashes was easy to get into. Leon had taught him the trick. Emil sunk to his knees in the middle of the floor, staring up at the space above. Leon. Leon, his mind repeated, images of his eyes and smile and later on, his coughing, his pallor. It was impossible to untangle him from Ivan and his machinery.

What was it worth to remember, anyways, Emil thought suddenly. Leon was dead. He was dead, dead, dead, and the chokehold around his throat snapped and he sobbed staring up at space, wishing for Leon, wishing for better things, howling with the pain he couldn't express until his voice was gone, dispersed into the uncaring silence of space.

Nothing happened. Nobody came to comfort him. Leon did not come back, and something small and childish buckled inside Emil when those foolish dreams dissolved.

Above him, the stars spun. Emil wiped away his tears and stared up at them. He was looking at Leon right now, maybe. Since Leon was in space. It was ridiculous, he knew, but nobody could prove him wrong, and a small peace settled in his twisted stomach at that.

They'd tried, at least. Emil lay down, flat on his back. They'd tried to fix him. It was just bad luck. Bad luck. Bad fate. Damn fate. Whatever people wished on it, they only had themselves, the power of their leaders, in the end. And in the end, whatever human fate they had was not enough to save Leon.

Emil finally noticed his device buzzing. Tino messaging him, asking him where he was. Emil typed out home, not to worry, that he was fine. Then he closed his eyes and slept.

0o0o0o

Ivan held the papers. The clinical detachment of Doctor Oxenstierna in response to the drug had softened the blow.

He read over the papers again. He was demonstrating the same results as Yao. They didn't know if it was fatal. He kept himself restricted to those two facts.

He thought of Emil, of his grief.

'What are we going to do next, Ivan?' Kiku asked. Ivan startled out of his thoughts.

'Tell Yao.'

'Tomorrow,' Kiku said tiredly. Ivan nodded. He thought of Yao, of his own heart and humming lungs. He was in danger.

'I'll go now,' he said.

Kiku turned away to his rooms. Ivan waited to make sure he wouldn't come back out before running to Yao's rooms. Perhaps it was the drug that made him reckless, but he didn't think he'd regret it.

0o0o0o

Yao woke up to Ivan's warmth in the darkness.

'Ivan? What are you doing here?'

'I'll explain in the morning,' Ivan promised. 'Trust me.'

'I trust you,' Yao said. He felt the bed sag beside him as Ivan settled in.

'Good.'

When Ivan was still, the world was utterly devoid of anything but his warmth. Yao reached out to touch him, and Ivan shivered.

'Why are you here?'

'I want to kiss you,' Ivan said plainly, but his words were weighted with more than a simple request. They had a finality to them.

'You may,' Yao said. Ivan touched him along his neck, his jaw, and kissed him softly.

The bed creaked. Ivan held Yao as if he might break and pressed him onto his back.

'Ivan, what's wrong?'

'I'll explain in the morning,' Ivan repeated. 'For now, may I?'

Yao closed his eyes. The darkness behind his eyelids was no different than outside. 'You may.'

Ivan was gentle, steady, pressing and holding and taking until Yao gasped underneath him.

'Forget about the questions for now,' he promised, brushing Yao's hair from his eyes. 'Close your eyes and feel.'

Every touch and kiss and stroke, weighted by secrets hanging over them like rain. In the morning, Yao repeated, but found he could not care for a moment because in the darkness, everything was Ivan, his weight, his hands, his breathing, his scent of flowers and metal. When Ivan moved, the confusing world snapped back together, and so Yao touched his sides and pulled off his scarf until the movement made a different world out of the darkness.

'Yao,' Ivan whispered, pressing forward, the weight and heat pulling tight together until it all snapped and Yao arched back with a cry, not caring about anything but Ivan's touch, his voice, commanding, pleading, desperate. 'Feel.'

And Yao did, sharply in the darkness, and let everything else vanish.

0o0o0o

The imagined world is fuzzier there, and perhaps if I wrote movies instead (which wouldn't be good) I could fix the bridges.

:: Leather worn soft with use and age