The road was pitch black where the car headlights couldn't reach, leaving Ivan's stomach churning as he stared out the window in nervous anticipation. Afraid, perhaps, that they would reach the house and somehow find nothing there instead.

They passed by a parked car on the side of the road, Toris' hands starting to tremble on the steering wheel.

'Was that a police car? I think that was a police car,' Toris whined, looking to Ivan. Without a further moment the colour drained from Toris' face, and he promptly returned to facing the road. 'And you're still… covered in blood…'

'Are you feeling sick again?' Ivan asked, trying to mask the irritation in his voice. They weren't going fast enough. Though Ivan knew Toris was driving as fast as he could, it still wasn't enough. Ivan needed to get home now, to see Yao now, and know he was okay. The police car, the intervention during his second killing, Katyusha not showing up — none of this was going as planned. Something told Ivan this could be the case with Yao as well.

'A little, but I can… still drive…' Toris' voice trailed off into a half-hearted whisper. Ivan didn't respond, was too lost in the pitch black night outside, impatient to get out of the car. Now on a dirt road, the car began to slow down, headlights flashing over the house. Ivan opened the door before Toris could even slow the car to a halt, hopping out onto the snow.

Toris yelped. 'T-That wasn't safe!'

The car braked suddenly, nearly knocking Toris into the steering wheel.

'Stay out here,' Ivan said. 'Keep the engine running.'

Toris' eyes widened, mouth twitching to protest.

'Is there something you want to say?' Ivan asked, not restraining the growl in his voice. Toris only shook his head vigorously. Whether he liked it or not, Toris was involved in this. The blood all over his car seat was the least of Toris' problems.

Assured that the car would still be here when Ivan came back, he slammed the car door shut. He hurried to the front door, unlocking it with shivering hands. Ice cold air rushed into the front door hallway as Ivan entered, flecks of snow melting onto the blood smeared floor. The smell of gunpowder lingered in the air, sending Ivan's heart lurching in his chest.

A pair of arms wrapped around his side, nearly knocking Ivan off his balance. He turned, finding Yao's face buried into his coat. A cry of relief escaped Yao's lips, muffled and quiet. Ivan's chest ached at the sound, all the more worried because he couldn't quite say for sure if the blood trail was Yao's or not.

'Yao —' Ivan freed his arm from Yao's hold, pulling him back slightly. Yao's hands were bloodied and shaky, though to Ivan's relief he didn't seem injured. 'Chto ne tak? Are you okay?'

Yao nodded, eyes lingering over the bloodstains on Ivan's coat and scarf. 'Ivan…'

'It's not mine, myshka. Don't worry about it,' Ivan said. He looked over at the trail of blood, the gun and the smashed up phone. 'What happened here? Where's Arthur?'

Yao shook his head, as if trying to reject the memory. 'Let's just —' Yao hesitated, his grasp on Ivan's coat tightening. 'Can we just leave? Please?'

Ivan nodded, lips lingering on Yao's forehead before pressing a chaste kiss. He grabbed a parka off the coat rack and draped it over Yao's shoulders, taking hold of Yao's arm as they stepped outside into the snow.

The car was still waiting outside, windshield wipers beating against the snow that was now falling thickly from the sky. Ivan opened the car door, climbing in after Yao into the back seat.

'Drive,' Ivan said to Toris. Toris eyed Yao for a quick moment in the rear view mirror, spotting the bloody hands and promptly starting to drive. The car reversed out into the icy road, setting off hastily.

'Where's Katyusha?' Yao asked.

'She couldn't make it today,' Ivan said. Yao glanced at him in question. 'Don't worry, myshka. We can trust him.' Ivan caught Toris' gaze in the rear-view mirror. 'Isn't that right, Toris?'

'Y-Yes,' Toris said, eyes flickering back to the road. 'But, where uh… Where do you want me to go, exactly?'

'That last one we didn't make it to,' Ivan said, leaning forward towards the driver's seat and lowering his voice. 'Do you still have the address —'

'Y-Yes. Yes, I have it.' Toris pressed the screen of his GPS, pushing buttons too fast for the device to keep up. 'I-I got it.'

'Good. Get us there. And mind any police cars this time around, da?'

Toris swallowed nervously. 'Y-Yeah.'

Ivan leant back in his seat, Yao looking at him in curiosity.

'What was that all about? Where are we going?'

Ivan blinked, an answer not springing to his lips easily. What should he tell him? That he was still going to try and finish off the last killing? That he was going to do all this with the police on his back? Yao seemed to understand this without Ivan even saying a word, his dark eyes widening in horror.

'Ivan, you're being foolish!' Anger flashed in Yao's eyes. 'It's too late now! Going after someone now —'

'It'll be fine.' Ivan took hold of Yao's arm, somehow thinking the gesture might calm him. It didn't.

'No, it's not going to be fine! You're going to get us caught!' Yao pulled his arm away. 'Do you know what they do to people like us, Ivan?'

'Yao, please —'

'They'll execute us, Ivan! Lock us up for life if they're merciful!'

'I'm not going to let that happen.'

'Then don't do this.' Yao's voice started to tremble, softer as his bloody hands gripped the edge of Ivan's scarf, perhaps unknowingly. 'You don't have to kill him.'

'You know that's not true,' Ivan said, taking Yao's cold hands into his. 'You know that better than anyone else…'

Sirens begin to sound out in the distance. But even so, Ivan couldn't let that one man escape him. He wouldn't allow it — not after all the blood he and Yao had shed up to this point. Not after all the nightmares and bloodstained hands.

Toris whined and glanced back at Ivan, perhaps hoping for a way out of this. Ivan only kept his eyes on Yao, watching dark orbs soften and flicker towards the bloody state of Ivan's scarf.

'Ivan…'

'It'll be fine, myshka.' Ivan pulled Yao close and rested his chin atop Yao's head. 'It'll be over before you know it.'

.

('Kiku…')

The voice was familiar, soft and lilting in a way Kiku hadn't heard in a long time. He felt a reluctant warmth at the sound of it — it reminded him of home.

It was dark, here… wherever 'here' was. But Kiku could feel the sun on his face, could feel the shoulder of someone else pressing next to his.

('Kiku —')

Harsher, more desperate. Kiku wanted to move, to get away, but was paralysed in what felt like black, viscous water. The gentle touch by his side had grown into a clingy hold, sticking to him and holding him in this place. Kiku furrowed his brows, head aching as if it had been hollowed out. He didn't want to be here anymore, no…

('You used to be so sweet…')

A warm droplet landed on Kiku's forehead, feeling as though it had pierced him. It trickled down his skin as another fell, and another, until they felt like fake tears on his cheeks. And for a moment, Kiku was scared they wouldn't be so fake anymore, that his own tears might bleed out into them. He did what he had to, after all, when he had left what used to be 'home'. It didn't have to end the way it did. No one had to get hurt, Yao didn't have to stand in his way like that —

'Detective Honda?'

The ground grew cold beneath Kiku, a sliver of light prying through his eyelids. He groaned as he opened his eyes a little more, head aching even at the dim light of the room. A cold drop of water splashed onto him from the ceiling.

'Detective Honda? Are you awake…?'

There was a dull pain in Kiku's arm, the muscles of it strained. It was held up, chained to something. Kiku struggled to decide if he should close his eyes to alleviate the headache, or open them fully to check on the state of his arm.

'Detective… Don't make me call out your name again... My voice is bloody strained as it is...'

A door shut closed elsewhere, the sound jolting Kiku's eyes open. He was met with the sight of a mottled ceiling, a wet and darkened patch hanging above him. He gazed over towards the voice, finding a bruised and battered looking Arthur.

'It's… about time, Detective,' Arthur said, the pace of his words unsteady and drunken. His face was pale, and it was only when Kiku propped himself up to sit that he noticed the pool of blood beneath Arthur's leg. 'It's getting quite cold in here, don't you think…?'

Kiku wiped the water off his face and took off the one sleeve of his jacket, attempting to tear out a strip from his shirt, but finding it difficult with only one hand free. He looked over to his hand, handcuffed to Arthur's with the chain looped around a radiator pipe. He fumbled around his pockets for the key, coming up empty handed.

'Do you have a pin? Something small like a toothpick?' Kiku turned to Arthur.

Arthur only shook his head and laughed. 'Alfred will be here soon… Don't worry your silly head about it!'

Kiku swallowed, realising Arthur had probably already lost a critical amount of blood. He rummaged through his pockets, searching for something — anything — that could help him pick the handcuff lock. He came across his belt buckle, the metal clasp. The prong was too large to use as a pick, undoubtedly, but perhaps…

Kiku brought his free wrist to his handcuffed hand, unclasping his watch and letting it fall to his lap. He picked it up, holding the watch clasp between his fingers. A small, metallic extension — it was almost perfect. He jammed the clasp piece into the handcuff lock, bending and twisting it slightly.

A tiny click. The handcuff widened and slid off his wrist, freeing Arthur's hand from the radiator pipe. Arthur's arm limply fell to the ground. Kiku tore off a piece of his shirt, wrapping the strip around Arthur's bleeding leg. Pulling the knot tight, Arthur hissed in pain, his head lolling down.

'Doctor Kirkland.' Kiku pat Arthur's cheek, trying to get him to open his eyes. 'A-Arthur? Try to stay awake, please.'

'I'm bloody trying…' Arthur's eyes fluttered open, still half-lidded and heavy. Kiku offered a reassuring smile.

'Yes, I know. But you need to keep your eyes open until the ambulance arrives.' Kiku stood up, glancing around the dingy room, his phone nowhere in sight. 'Stay here and try to put some pressure on your leg. I'll be back as soon as I can.'

Kiku left the basement, surprised that the door had been left unlocked. He hurried up the stairs and into the hallway, taking careful steps though he was sure Yao had left by now. He spotted his smashed up phone on the floor and picked it up. Perhaps too optimistic, Kiku tried to turn it on, but the phone was beyond saving. He dropped it back onto the floor. He would have to get to his car for help.

Kiku turned to leave, stopping short at the sight of his gun on the floor. The smell of gunpowder still lingered in the air, reminding Kiku that it was his bullet that had done this to Arthur. Kiku picked up the gun, itching to drop it out of guilt. But even so, he might need it. If he encountered Yao again, he couldn't hesitate, couldn't let his guard down.

He reloaded the gun and headed back into the basement.

'We're going to my car, Arthur.' Kiku leant down to help Arthur up.

'What about Alfred…'

'He'll come to meet us soon. Let's just get you to a hospital first, okay?'

Kiku slung Arthur's arm over his shoulder, Arthur wincing at the movement. He led him out of the house, into the raging blizzard. Almost pitch black out, only the moonlight gave Kiku some kind of guidance toward the road. Their footsteps were slow and heavy, dragging through the snow.

'There's… a gun on your hip, Kiku,' Arthur said, voice barely a mumble by Kiku's ear.

'Yes.'

'You plan on using it?' Arthur was shivering, teeth chattering. Kiku hoped it was from the cold and not the blood loss.

'If I have to, yes.'

Arthur only hummed in agreement, head almost lolling against Kiku's shoulder. Kiku trudged down the road, spotting his car parked just a little further down. And beyond that… Beyond that he was sure Yao and Ivan are running, along with the lives of the seventy-seven men and women they had taken.

Kiku blinked backs the tears the wind was causing his eyes to shed, the gun feeling heavy on his hip. Even so, perhaps more than ever, Kiku was ready to use it.

.

('Alfred, dear…')

The voice rang in Alfred's head as he sped down the road, passing by the police cars that were headed in the same direction. He wasn't sure what he would find. A dead body, perhaps many, perhaps none at all. Or maybe — Arthur, alive and well.

Alfred dismissed the thought, choosing not to even consider what might just happen when he got there. He didn't want to give himself the chance to hope for more, and yet, that voice on the phone sprung hope more than anything. He didn't have to lose Arthur, not like he lost his sister. Arthur wasn't going to disappear, wasn't going to vanish without Alfred ever getting to even say goodbye. Not on Alfred's watch.

A black car passed by in the opposite direction, driving far too close to the middle of the road. Alfred caught onto the sight of it for a brief moment, his thoughts snagged onto it. But it wasn't what he was here for. Catching the beast, that's what he was here for. The house at the end of this seemingly endless and pitch black road, that was where he was heading. And yet —

Alfred spun the steering wheel, tires screeching on the asphalt. Police cars swerved to avoid hitting him, driving on toward the house in the distance. He watched the black car ahead disappear, leaving only its tail lights for Alfred to follow. He slammed his foot onto the pedal, engine roaring as it sped across the road.

I won't let you get away from me again. Alfred exhaled slowly as he approached the car, having to match its erratic and fluctuating speed. The beast thought it could get away so easily, thought it could slip past him like a passing by stranger. It wasn't going to happen. This car chase could last forever on a road like this, but Alfred was going to end it here and now while he still had the chance.

He rolled down the window, sirens blaring into his ear and ice cold air piercing into his skin. He took his gun out of its holster and held it out the window, shivering from both the cold and the adrenaline rushing through his veins. It was just like in the movies, just like those action heroes Alfred idolised as a young boy. But it wasn't exciting, it didn't feel like an adventure. His gun aiming unsteadily at the car, towards the wheels, Alfred only felt fear, the weight of that gun in his hands.

He cocked the gun and pulled the trigger.

.

'It'll be over before you know it.'

Yao exhaled shakily against Ivan's chest, not caring for the bloodstains sticking to his skin as he tried to listen for that heartbeat. But beneath the car engine, the blizzard screeching against the windows, it was only a faint thud. Frantic and panicked in its pulse, betraying the calm in Ivan's voice.

(I don't want it to be over.)

Sirens grew louder, blaring and fighting among the many noises that Ivan's pulse was buried in. Yao swallowed, pressing closer so he wouldn't lose it. No, he didn't want to be over. Because when all of this was finished, when Ivan had killed and torn up the last man, there wasn't going to be an after. He would lose another piece of Ivan, lose him to the crossed out pictures on the wall. And after that, surely after that, he would lose Ivan completely to the sirens chasing after them.

A gunshot pierced the air, scratching against the metal of the car door. Yao flinched, Ivan pushing him down onto the car seat before he could even turn to look out the rear window.

'Stay down,' Ivan said, his hold on Yao crushingly tight as the car swerved. More gunshots rang out.

'Why?' Yao turned his head, breath heavy with panic as he bumped his face into Ivan's. 'So I can survive and watch you get yourself killed?'

'Yao, I told you it's going to be fine.' Ivan's breaths were heavy too, his eyes betraying fear. 'Don't you believe me?'

Yao shook his head, tensing up and shutting his eyes tight as the car swerved again. 'No…'

'I want you to.'

'I can't.' Yao swallowed, a knot growing in his throat. 'It's not going to be fine, Ivan. Not with them chasing us, not with you killing again.'

'Myshka, you know I have to. You've known that from the start, haven't you?' Ivan's words were almost a whisper, but they were too close for Yao to ignore. 'What else am I supposed to do with the nightmares they left me with? They don't go away, Yao…'

'I know,' Yao said, unable to even croak out what he really wanted to say. 'I know that —'

(but I love you)

Yao choked a sob, the knot having grown unbearably painful in his throat.

'Yao…' Ivan crooned, wiping away tears Yao hadn't realized were streaming down his cheeks. Ivan's voice sounded thin, as if it could break at any moment. 'Ne plach, Yao. Please don't…'

Yao shook his head, swallowing back the sobs in his throat. 'Then don't give me a reason to. Let's just… Let's just go somewhere else. Anywhere, I don't care. Just not that house, not that place —'

'I can't do that —'

'You can. We can… We — We can just plant sunflowers.' Yao's voice broke, unable to contain his tears. 'And — and you can cook whatever you want. And I'll eat it, I won't complain. Even if its soup every day, I don't care. And if you want to just waltz, that's what we'll do. And — and —'

Ivan's brows were pinched, gaze watery enough to nearly set off another sob in Yao's throat.

'And if you want to talk about your nightmares, I'll listen. I won't kick you out. And we'll have a nicer Christmas this year, I promise. I won't get drunk, I won't run away. I'll stay with you, Ivan. I promise —'

'Yao, don't say things like that...'

A gunshot burst into the air, hitting one of the car mirrors. The car rumbled, veering off into rougher ground.

'But it's true.' Yao wrapped his arms around Ivan, sniffling. 'I'll stay with you. Even with the nightmares and the scars. It doesn't matter to me. We can leave everything else behind. I just want you.'

Even with the tear streaks on Ivan's cheeks, a chuckle burst out of Ivan, the sound setting Yao's heart fluttering. He cradled Yao's face in his hands, a soft smile on his lips.

'Ochi chernye…'

'Is… Is that a yes?'

Ivan nodded. 'Da.'

Ivan pressed his lips onto Yao's, the taste of tears on their tongues. The knot in Yao's throat melted away, dissolved until Yao couldn't help but smile into the kiss. Feeling Ivan's breath mix into his, not even the sirens and gunshots could scare him. No, he didn't want this to be over. He didn't want this to ever end.

Another bang echoed out, shattering into the kiss. The back window cracked and sent the car into a violent swerve, spinning and tumbling until it crashed.

.

The car came to a halt, jolting Arthur and his injured leg in the backseat. He bit back a cry of pain, prying his eyes open to look at Kiku in the driver's seat.

'What is it…?' Arthur croaked out, voice feeling scratchy and weak.

Kiku glanced back, hesitating to answer. 'Someone's had a car accident. I'll be back in a moment.'

'Hold on —' Arthur called out, but Kiku had already left and shut the door. It's not Alfred, is it…?

Arthur pressed his forehead against the ice cold window, condensation clouding over it as he watched Kiku approach a car parked off the road, its headlights still running. Up ahead, it illuminated the battered ruins of a black car, turn upside down in the snow.

Arthur's breath grew shallow, watching the smoke rising from the car and being swept away by the blizzard. He weakly knocked against the window, trying to catch Kiku's expression as he knelt to inspect the driver's seat of the battered car. Kiku leant and pulled a man out, dragging his body out into the snow. Arthur spotted the man's brown hair and breathed out a sigh of relief, vision flickering from the sudden exhale.

He looked to the other car, doors open and engine still running. Footprints led out into the forest, snow burying them with every passing moment. Arthur wanted to follow them, to catch them before they disappeared.

Ice cold air rushed into the car, prickling Arthur's skin. He turned towards Kiku, who was placing the man into the passenger seat.

'Where's the other driver?' Arthur asked.

'I don't know,' Kiku answered, hasty in his tone as he adjusted the man's head on the seat, setting it upright. 'But…'

'It's Alfred, isn't it?'

Kiku looked up at him. A gunshot echoed, a faint bang in the snowy blizzard.

'Stay here, Arthur.'

Arthur lunged forward in his seat. 'Wait —'

'The ambulance will be here for you soon. Please don't leave the car.'

The car door shut, Kiku's shadow heading up towards the forest treeline. Arthur banged his fist onto the window.

'Hey —'

But the wind was roaring too loud, and Arthur's voice was too weak, for Kiku to hear. He disappeared among the trees, leaving a fresh set of footprints in the snow. Arthur slid his forehead down the window, the glass ice cold on his skin. He sighed and watched his breath form a misty cloud of condensation.

So much for being a monster in disguise — that's what he imagined Alfred would say to him. Disappointed, for sure, that Arthur had not risen out of that creaky old house in the blood of his captors, that Arthur lay here injured like a victim and not a predator.

The truth of the matter was, Arthur was no more than the scared child his father made him into. It was foolish to think he could somehow grow into something stronger, something different and terrifying. A mere fantasy, is what it was. Putting on the gentleman's hat and cane, pretending to be someone else…

(I'm a bloody fool. And a half-dead one at that.)

Arthur shut his eyes against the window, hearing the wind scratch and whisper against the glass. He'd already lost a lot of blood, and it would take more than Kiku's optimistic reassurances to convince him he would make it out of this alive. He couldn't even keep his head up, let alone feel the tips of his fingers. Arthur was slipping away, second by second. No ambulance could save him now.

A weak chuckle burst out of Arthur. So is this it, then? This is how I die? Alone amidst a blizzard, cold and wallowing in self-pity. Certainly not how he had envisioned his death. He had always hoped he'd age gracefully, somehow. Perhaps even take someone down with him in this spiral towards death by old age — someone who would put up with his idiocies and ramblings, someone he could value in secret, whose mind Arthur could nest himself in.

'You could have been that, Alfred… if you wanted to…'

The words sounded strange when Arthur said them, hanging in the air as if waiting for a reply. Of course, Arthur would never get one. He leant back in the car seat and exhaled shakily, vision flickering like candlelight at the edges. As if drowning, the world seemed to push down on him, steal his breath away slowly and suffocating him. But Arthur wasn't fighting it, wasn't kicking his legs or holding onto his breath. Just sinking to the very bottom, watching the world drift further and further away.

The feeling struck a lonely ache in his chest, growing at the thought that maybe, possibly, Alfred was out there in those woods, thinking of Arthur fighting for his life when in reality he was doing nothing more than lying here like a slaughtered lamb.

(What more can I do, really…)

Arthur pried his eyes open, gazing lazily at the snowstorm outside. Kiku's footprints were now disappearing, fading away beneath falling snow. The lights of the abandoned car still illuminated the car wreck, shining onto the forest behind it like a spotlight, an empty limelight just waiting for Arthur to step in.

Arthur leant forward in his seat, gripping the fabric of his trousers tightly. He could do it, if he wanted to. Arthur could stumble out there like an utter fool, leave a bloody trail in his wake and pass out in the snow. He could die trying to catch up to Alfred, a limp man chasing someone he could never reach.

A smile tugged at Arthur's lips, the idea amusing somehow. He could try…

He opened the car door, the weight of it incredibly heavy as he pushed it open. Snow flurried and rushed into the car, teasing Arthur's bruised throat and melting on his shivering skin. He half climbed out, gritting his teeth and bearing the pain in his leg. He dragged his injured leg out, planting both feet into the snow and bracing himself.

He stood up on wobbly legs, only to lose balance and fall to the ground.

'Bugger me…' Arthur groaned, crawling up from the ground. Already panting, already feeling dizzy enough to pass out, he clenched his fists in the snow and felt the ice sting on his skin. Perhaps with all this pain, with the cold and the fear of never making it to Alfred, he could stay conscious.

It was this that Arthur held onto as he stumbled up, feeling the flesh of his leg singe and tear with every movement. He wasn't going to waste away in this snowy prison as a lamb, wouldn't surrender. Because even if the snow soaked up the last of his blood, even if the blizzard snatched away the last of his breath before he could reach Alfred, Arthur was going to damn well die trying.

.

Panting, gasping for air, Yao was sure his lungs would burst. His heart, pumping and squeezing hard enough for Yao to fear it wouldn't be able to keep up. Ivan's hand was tugging at his, trying to keep Yao with him in spite of nauseating dizziness that had overtaken Yao. Blood was dripping down his forehead, cooling on his skin. But there wasn't time to wipe away the blood, to check the various aches and pains scattered across Yao's body, to even ask Ivan where they were even running to in this endless forest.

Footsteps followed behind them, crushing snow and catching up to them. Yao and Ivan reached a small clearing, moonlight glaring down on the shimmery snow. It would have been beautiful, if they hadn't been running away.

'Here, myshka.' Ivan stood with his back against a tree, yanking Yao into his hold. 'Stay quiet.'

'Ivan, our tracks —' Ivan's hand clamped over Yao's mouth, footsteps growing close, slower and quieter against the wind that was kicking up snow and rattling tree branches. Yao felt his breath resist against Ivan's hand, far too heavy and far too panicked to stay quiet. He felt Ivan's chest rising and falling heavily against his back, betraying whatever calm Ivan tried to feign.

The footsteps stopped, pausing to shuffle in hesitance. Trees groaned as they resisted against the blizzard, their branches swaying. Moonlight streamed through them, forming patterns on the snow, frail little shapes that Yao watched as he listened for movement. He nearly jumped in place when a voice pierced the air.

'Come on out, Ivan.'

Footsteps resumed, pacing carefully, unsure. The voice panted, swallowing in an attempt to regain his breath. 'I know you and your friend are here. Give yourselves up.'

Ivan's arms tightened around Yao. The voice had grown closer, footsteps approaching.

'It's over no matter where you go. You know that, don't you?'

Ivan's hand slid down to Yao's chin, drawing it towards him. 'Stay here,' Ivan said, voice barely a murmur against the howling winds.

A footstep landed, just behind them. He felt Ivan start to slide away from him, leaving the shadow of the tree.

Yao tensed and shook his head. Don't —

A gunshot burst into the air as Ivan slipped away from Yao. Something thumped into the ground, the gun landing by Yao's feet. A terrified lump in his throat, he picked up the gun with trembling fingers and stepped out of the tree's shadow. He was almost tempted to shut his eyes, afraid of what he might see.

'Yao, run!'

Ivan's hands were wrapped around the man's throat — the man who, even in the moonlit darkness, Yao recognized from the Poisoned Apple. The man was struggling beneath Ivan's weight, hands clawing at Ivan's face and leaving red trails. Yao raised the gun, aiming for the man's head.

'Yao!' Ivan said, glancing up with widened eyes. 'I got this, don't worry about me —'

The man yanked at Ivan's scarf, tightening it around Ivan's throat and making him choke out in surprise.

'Stop!' Yao stepped forward, cocking the gun. 'Stop it!'

The man freezed, eyes widening in recognition. 'You —'

A bang echoed out through the forest, a flying bullet kicking up the snow. But it's not from Yao's gun, not from his finger on the trigger. Red bloomed on Ivan's side, grip loosening on the man's throat as he fell over.

'Ivan!'

Before Yao could reach him, another gunshot rang out. The bullet hit by his feet.

'Don't move.'

Kiku emerged from behind one of the trees, gun aimed at Ivan's head. Yao felt his balance grow unsteady, sweat breaking out on his skin despite the cold. The man on the ground started to sit up. Panicked, Yao tightened his grip on the gun and re-aimed it at him.

'Drop the gun,' Kiku said, the coldness of his words cutting through Yao. 'Or I shoot.'

.

The gun nearly slipped in Kiku's shivering hands, watching red seep into the snow from where he had shot the man.

A stifled cry broke out of Yao's throat. 'Kiku, please…'

'Drop the gun.'

Yao shook his head, tightening the grip on his gun. 'Let me and Ivan go.'

'I can't do that.'

'You can't kill Ivan either,' Yao said, voice trembling as he stepped closer to Alfred and grabbed him by the collar. 'But… But I can kill him. It wouldn't be new for me, would it? K-Killing someone — you can't do that.'

'I will if I have to.'

'Kiku —' Alfred started, but Yao yanked his collar.

'You wouldn't,' Yao said.

'I almost killed you before, didn't I?' Kiku said, his voice cold and fragile like ice. He could only hope it wouldn't break, wouldn't betray the choked feeling in his throat. Alfred's eyes widened, the expression leaving Kiku's insides twisting and coiling up in shame. No one had known of what Kiku did, of the cruelty he had been responsible for. Kiku had always wanted to keep it that way. But there was no hiding it anymore. 'It won't bother me, to kill a murderer like him. I'll do it. If you don't drop that gun, I'll do it.'

Yao's face paled, almost white in the moonlight. 'H-How can you say that? You…'

'Kiku, what are you saying, man?' Alfred said, eyes still wide as if in shock. As if Kiku was outright lying, as if he didn't even know what he was saying. As if he were still the same, innocent Kiku on the inside.

'Does he know?' Yao nudged the gun against Alfred's temple, his voice unsteady and croaked. 'Have you told him what you did? Or should I tell him?'

Alfred's eyes looked to Kiku for an answer. Kiku swallowed, unable to meet Alfred's eyes. Alfred seemed to understand something, expression faltering into what could have been disappointment. Or perhaps hurt. Kiku wasn't sure, neither did he want to be.

'That doesn't matter now,' Kiku said, drawing in a slow breath and exhaling, as if he could somehow cleanse out the guilt this way. 'Backup is on the way. When they get here, it'll be more than just one gun pointed at you and Ivan. You might as well turn yourselves in now.'

'You're lying,' Yao said.

'Ivan is losing blood, too.' Kiku pressed the gun closer to Ivan's head, nudging it. 'The sooner you cooperate and drop that gun, the sooner he can get to a hospital.'

'Don't listen to him,' Ivan panted, bloodstained hands shaking as they gripped his wounded side. 'I'll… be fine…'

'Don't you start lying to me, too,' Yao said, voice breaking as his aim on Alfred wavered. He looked to Kiku, a pleading look in his eyes. Kiku only stared back, emptying out his thoughts so that everything was merely mechanical, merely something that had to be done. Numb — just like then.

Yao's eyes widened — the same fear, the same betrayed hurt in them. But Kiku didn't think of it, kept his gun aimed at Ivan though his hands were shaking. Kept his eyes on Yao though tiny pricks of tears were starting to form. This had nothing to do with then. Nothing to do with the freedom Kiku once sought, with the secret hatred that had boiled up for Yao, with the need to be his own person. This was almost a different life entirely, one in which Yao was the monster, not him. It was Yao. The murderer, the torturer, the bloodthirsty beast. Yao had grown into something terrifying, though Kiku couldn't see it now in the shivering and trembling man before him. Even so, Kiku would play the part of the hunter, because it was his job. This was his responsibility, his mistake to fix.

In the corner of his eye, a shadow moved. Kiku ignored it, tightening his grip on the gun and nudging it once again on Ivan's head.

'He might be too weak to even make it to the hospital if you don't hurry.'

Yao looked to Ivan, brows pinched in distress. Ivan shook his head.

'Yao, don't…'

A shadow stumbled between the trees, footsteps lost in the sound of crumbling snow and hissing air. An animal, Kiku reasoned as he kept his gaze fixed on Yao. But the shadow was circling around them, like a predator judging its prey. It stopped at a distance behind Yao.

Yao pulled his gun away from Alfred's head, hands shaking as they presented the gun forward.

'Yao…' Ivan said, voice weak.

'Sorry, Ivan,' Yao croaked out. Through even the broken voice, a small smile tugged at his lips. 'We'll just have to waltz behind bars.'

The shadow stumbled forward, approaching and revealing Arthur's ghostly pale face in the moonlight. Kiku's breath shortened, dread in his chest as Ivan seemed to take notice.

'Yao, behind you!'

Yao's smile fell, his grip on the gun tightening as he turned around and aimed it blindly. Kiku raised his gun at Yao, finger pressing down on the trigger. Ivan knocked Kiku down, gunshots cutting through the roaring of the blizzard.

A body thumped to the ground. Footsteps on snow, stumbling and running. He heard Alfred cry out.

'Arthur!'

Kiku scrambled up from the ground, gun aiming for the backs of Yao and Ivan as they ran, even as his own balance swayed. He pulled the trigger, a bang shooting through the air. Nothing. He pulled the trigger again, and again, and again, not even able to see if he had hit or missed. His ears were ringing by the time the gun clicked faintly. Empty. Yao and Ivan were gone, swallowed up by the forest. Kiku wanted to collapse to his knees, rest against the snow and let it bury him. This poison in his chest, this ache — it seemed to worsen no matter what he did. Dead or alive, imprisoned or free, Yao was always there as the guilt in Kiku's chest.

'Arthur!' Alfred called out again, a choked sob caught in the name.

Kiku dropped his gun, hurrying over to Alfred. Arthur was lying in the snow, red blooming out beneath his shoulder. Alfred was crouched over him, hands desperately trying to press onto Arthur's shoulder wound.

'Kiku, get an ambulance,' Alfred said. When Kiku only stood there, numbness still in his veins, Alfred looked up at him with a furious gaze. 'Kiku. An ambulance!'

'One is already on the way…' Kiku said, voice almost a whisper.

Arthur was panting, hyperventilating on the ground and hands clutching at Alfred's bloodied ones. His skin almost matched the snow, ghoulish in its colour. Ambulance sirens were wailing in the distance.

'You're gonna be fine, Artie…' Alfred lifted Arthur's head up onto his lap, cradling it as his voice broke. 'You're gonna be fine, I promise…'

Arthur didn't speak a word, only gazing up at Alfred with the widened eyes of someone who had been deprived of the sun for too long. He was shaking violently, lips trembling. Kiku wasn't sure if it was from the cold, or perhaps the massive blood loss. Either way, when Alfred's tears fell onto his cheeks, Arthur smiled.

.

Yao tugged at Ivan's hand, urging him to keep up as they continued to run from the bullets, stumbling over logs and nearly slipping on icy slopes. Tree branches scratched and clawed at him, but that didn't matter right now. No, nothing except getting Ivan out of here, away from Kiku, away from those bullets and those handcuffs and everything else. The entire world seemed to be trying to kill them, heaps of snow sliding off tree branches and hitting them. Ambulance sirens wailed in the distance, slowing Yao's steps.

'Yao —' Ivan panted.

Yao turned around, his heart lurching at the sight. Red splotches, fresh blood, was seeping through Ivan's coat, two massive sprawls of blood on his abdomen and side.

'Ivan —' Yao reached forward before Ivan could collapse, struggling to hold him up.

'I don't think I… can run anymore…' Ivan said, voice hoarse. He coughed, falling the ground and doubling over. Deep red fluid splattered onto the snow, blooming into a horrible stain that sent Yao's throat into a twisted knot. He crouched to the ground, placing a hand on Ivan's shoulder and feeling it tremble.

'We need to go back.'

Ivan shook his head, teeth chattering as he wiped the blood away from his mouth. 'W-We can't.'

'What do you mean we can't?' Yao tilted his head down, trying to catch sight of Ivan's expression when no reply came. 'Ivan?'

'I'm sorry, myshka.' A weak chuckle left Ivan's lips, though it was pained and forced. 'I just… don't think I'm going to make it back.'

'Aiyah, don't say things like that…' Yao said, swallowing and fighting to keep his voice from breaking as he watched Ivan's knuckles whiten like the snow beneath them. 'You just… You need to rest up a bit. Come on.' He helped Ivan up, guiding him to a fallen tree he could rest against.

'I need to have a look at your wounds,' Yao said, evening his breath and checking Ivan's eyes. They gazed back at him, half-lidded from tiredness, but still conscious, still there. Yao unfastened his coat and carefully peeled away the fabric of his shirt from the wounds. Deep crimson was bleeding out, trickling out from open gashes where the bullets had torn through flesh. Yao bit back a cry, pressing his hands to them to stop the bleeding. Ivan placed his hands over Yao's, fingers trembling and pale.

'Just wrap them up and I'll be fine,' Ivan said, though his breaths were laboured, chest rising and falling heavily. Yao nodded, choosing to ignore the weakness in Ivan's voice, the strain he put into saying those words. He tore strips of fabric from his shirt, wrapping them tightly around Ivan, watching with dread as they quickly turned from white to red. With quivering hands, Yao closed Ivan's coat.

'We can…' Yao's voice came out as a hoarse whisper. 'We can still get you to a hospital.'

Ivan's hand brushed against Yao's arm, brows pinched. 'Your arm…'

Yao looked down to his arm, his sleeve drenched in red. As if his body had only just realised he had been shot, a wave of burning pain hit him. He drew in a sharp breath.

'D-Don't worry about that.' Yao clutched at his arm as if he could contain the pain somehow. 'You… You should stay here while I get help.'

Yao motioned to get up, only for Ivan to grab the hem of his jacket.

'Please stay.' Ivan's eyes were widened, a raw panic in them that sent Yao's stomach twisting painfully. He knelt back down, throat knotted when Ivan's expression softened, a tired but gentle smile sweeping over his lips.

'Come here…' Ivan's hand weakly brushed against his shoulder, guiding Yao closer so that his chin rested on Ivan's shoulder. Yao shifted, hesitantly placing his hands on Ivan's chest and almost being able to feel the weak thud of Ivan's heart. Fingers started to stroke Yao's hair, smoothing over it. Yao felt the knot in his throat rise, tears threatening to spill.

'It's okay…' Ivan murmured.

Something in those words hurt Yao, set the tension in his throat snapping and breaking into a sob. He grasped the fabric of Ivan's coat, feeling hot tears prick his eyes and trickle down onto Ivan's shoulder. He shook his head, the ache in his chest growing as the words left his throat.

'It's not okay.'

'It is. You should believe me, myshka.'

'You're bleeding out,' Yao spoke through broken sobs, unable to stop. 'You can't just… do that. Not now.'

'I'm sorry…'

'Don't be sorry.' Yao pulled back, swallowing back down his sobs and wiping his tears. 'Stay with me.'

Blood trickled from Ivan's lip, the fluid almost black in moonlight. Yao wiped it away, only to smear it across Ivan's pale skin. The sight reminded him, painfully jabbed at him the long ago memory of watching Ivan kill a man for the first time, of watching his pale face beam at him like an innocent child, like Yao's reassuring touch was something scarce and precious. It was this same expression that Ivan wore now, eyes clouded over with drowsiness as Ivan leaned into Yao's hand. Only now his eyelids were falling heavy, closing…

'Ivan?' Yao pat his cheek, afraid that once Ivan's eyes closed they would never open again.

Ivan's eyes fluttered open by the slightest, his voice barely a murmur. 'I'm fine, myshka. Just… want to close my eyes for a bit.'

'Please don't…'

'It's not something I can fight.'

'You have to.'

Ivan's brows pinched, voice fragile and unsteady. 'I… don't think I can…'

'You can,' Yao said, sniffling and brushing away the snow flecks from Ivan's shoulders and face. 'You will. And we'll get out of here. We'll be fine, like you said.'

'And waltz our lives away…?' A smile tugged onto Ivan's lips, chest rising and falling in smaller, shallower breaths, growing weaker.

'Yeah.' Yao smiled back, though the tears still seemed to be falling. 'And we'll have a nice garden, too, with the sunflowers that you like.'

Ivan hummed, a stray tear rolling down his cheek. 'It sounds like a nice place to be, myshka…'

'It is.' Yao drew in a shaky breath, not wanting to break out into a sob again. 'It's going to be our home, Ivan.'

'I'm… glad…' Ivan's eyes closed gently, softly like the snow on his skin. His breaths slowed to a halt, chest frozen.

Yao whimpered, patting Ivan's cheek. 'Ivan?'

Ivan's head only hung low, without response. Yao cradled his face with both of his hands, feeling the warmth of his cheeks fading away. Eyes closed shut, angelic in their peace. Not a breath, not a blink.

'Ivan!' The name ripped out of Yao's throat, tearing his heart along with it. 'Ivan, please…'

Uncontrollable sobs forced their way out of Yao, his entire body convulsing along with them. He pressed Ivan's head into his chest, burying his face into Ivan's snow flecked hair. Sirens wailed in the distance, distorted and blaring among the winds that had settled into a breeze, as if they too, had left along with Ivan.

'Don't leave…'

The words were barely a whisper, tiny in a voice that had died in Yao's throat. Just like everything else, just like his heart, which felt as though it had been hollowed out and torn into pieces. His body collapsed, curled up and fell against Ivan's soundless chest. And Yao was sure too, that his own heart had stopped beating somehow. He was dead already, gone the moment Ivan's heart fell quiet.

It was because of this, that when sirens grew louder and footsteps approached, Yao could only lie there in surrender.