AN: And here is the third and final part of the story. Enjoy!

When I rest I feel utterly lifeless except that my throat burns when I draw breath… I can scarcely go on. No despair, no happiness, no anxiety. I have not lost the mastery of my feelings, there are actually no more feelings. I consist only of will. After each few meters this too fizzles out in unending tiredness. Then I think nothing. I let myself fall, just lie there. For an indefinite time I remain completely irresolute. Then I make a few steps again. – Reinhold Messner

If Desmond could have pushed his feet to move any faster, he would have. Unfortunately, with the wind trying to shove him off the knife's edge cliff, the snow building up around his boots, and the frigid air finding any bare skin it could get to and freezing it, he was already pushed to his limit. He'd hit his wall of endurance, bounced off, hit it a few more times, and somehow he was miraculously still moving.

It had taken them nearly two hours since Altaïr first told them Shaun wasn't doing well, but they were finally at the last small ridge below the Hillary Step. It was unbelievably cold, even with so many layers on, but all Desmond could think about was the fact that Shaun had been without oxygen for hours now, in this storm.

Altaïr had been giving them updates, but none of them were good. It wasn't as if Shaun or Altaïr would improve before they got there, after all. Last they heard, Altaïr had given Shaun a swift smack over the top of the head to keep him from drifting off.

Desmond let out a shaky breath of relief when he looked past Malik's shoulder and saw the bright blue and bright red figures, half buried in snow, huddled at the base of the Step. The last few meters to get to them were pretty much torture, until Desmond finally dropped down to his knees in the snow beside Shaun and started digging in his jacket for the syringe he was carrying. Hopefully it was close enough to his body heat to have not frozen on the way here.

"Shaun, can you hear me?" he asked, and Shaun lifted his chin, just barely.

"Des…?" he said, his voice rough, unsteady. "T-Took you…long enough."

"Sorry. Ran into t-traffic on the 405," Desmond said, relieved to see that the syringe hadn't frozen solid. "This is gonna hurt, buddy."

It should have hurt. Desmond was more than slightly worried that Shaun barely reacted to a needle getting punched through the layers of cloth into his thigh. That done, he immediately started hooking up a fresh oxygen tank to Shaun's mask.

Meanwhile, Malik, Rebecca, and Ezio were carefully helping Altaïr to his feet- or foot, in this case. At sea level, the three of them could have easily lifted him; at 29,000 feet above, it was like trying to haul a boulder across concrete. It took all their strength to get him upright, and by then he was breathing harshly, choking back a sob of agony as his leg was moved for the first time in hours.

"Okay, okay. Ezio, hold his leg by the knee and bend it back off the ground. Not quite to 90 degrees," Rebecca said, sorting out the straps of the contraption she'd created. Ezio said a quick apology to Altaïr, and everyone winced at the ragged scream that tore from Altaïr's throat as the Italian climber did as instructed and held his broken leg in position.

Rebecca knelt down in the shin deep snow and wrapped the harness in place above and below Altaïr's knee, and then gestured to Malik. "On his right side. Stand right next to him," she said, and when Malik was in place, she lifted the ropes connected to the harness and wrapped them up and over Malik's opposite shoulder.

"W-Wait," Altaïr choked out, clawing at his oxygen mask, pulling it out of the way just in time to avoid throwing up into it. Not that he had much in him to throw up; by the end he was just dry heaving from the pain, held up by Ezio and Malik on his good leg as Rebecca rubbed circles on his back.

"I know. I'm all done tying it up, now you just have to make it down, okay?" she said, and then she turned to Shaun and Desmond. "Des, how is he?"

"Not good," Desmond said, and though Shaun was standing, he was leaning heavily against the rocks behind him. "I think he can walk, though. I'll short rope him behind you guys."

There was nothing Malik wanted to do more than sit down and rest, but it wasn't an option. Even standing still for this long had allowed the cold to creep in and start to rob his hand and feet of sensation. He was careful to not move his shoulder too suddenly, turning to clip onto the fixed ropes with Altaïr's arm locked around him.

"We've got this, Altaïr," he said, hoping he didn't sound as exhausted as he felt. "You be my left arm, I'll be your right leg."

"Good job, guys," Lucy's voice piped up over the radio. "You made it up there, now I expect every single one of you to make it back down, you hear me?"

"Loud and clear, boss lady," Rebecca said. "I'll d-drag these wimps down there if I have to, over."

It was like walking into a never ending, solid wall of snow and ice. Every step seemed to take forever, seemed to drain the last of Malik's energy, and he could feel his shoulder on the verge of giving out under the weight more than once. But then he would look at Altaïr, see the pain lining his face, feel the way he was shaking…and he knew he couldn't stop. Couldn't give in. Altaïr was on his last thread of strength, and that thread was tied to Malik right now.

If he could hobble through this blizzard on one foot, Malik could share the load.

Rebecca took the lead this time, followed by Malik and Altaïr; behind them, Ezio kept careful watch on both the climbers ahead and Shaun and Desmond behind him. Desmond was short-roped to Shaun, loops of that rope held tightly in his free hand, keeping tension on the length to urge Shaun to keep moving forward. Shaun didn't seem entirely coherent, but he was managing to take halting, unsteady steps in the right direction.

The span between the Hillary Step and the South Summit was a knife-edge ridge, and strangely enough, it was less intimidating when the visibility was near zero. In the dark, you couldn't see the 8,000 foot drop off on one side, or the 11,000 foot drop off on the other side of the narrow path. The wind insistently tried to push the struggling climbers off the exposed rock ridge, but in this case, the thickly falling snow was their ally; being shin deep in snow was an excellent way of steadying each step. It was a tight squeeze at spots for Altaïr and Malik, walking two across, but taking it slow was the answer. One step at a time. The only sound other than the screaming wind was the gentle encouragement that both Malik and Desmond were giving to their charges.

"Just ten more steps," Desmond urged. "Ten more steps, you can do it."

And after that ten, another ten. And another.

More than once Altaïr begged to stop and rest, just for a few minutes, and every time Rebecca and Malik forced him to keep moving. There was no stopping to rest, not here, not now.

It was the slowest descent any of them had ever undertaken. It felt like it took hours to move ten steps forward. By the time they were two-thirds of the way back to camp four, Ezio had taken a turn at helping Altaïr, and then Malik got strapped back in when Ezio couldn't force himself another step forward with the added weight. Honestly, both of them lasted longer with the extra burden than anyone expected them to, especially considering that the path down was littered with steep, rocky hills that had to be carefully negotiated.

It was on another knife's edge ridge that disaster struck.

Desmond screamed Shaun's name behind them, and Ezio turned in time to see Shaun completely collapse and start to slide. Desmond tried to brace himself for the sudden weight on the rope, but he was too exhausted, too weak; his feet came out from under him, and the fixed rope unraveled from where it had been wrapped around his arm while he'd tried to clip into a new section.

Ezio moved faster than he thought possible in these conditions; he dropped and let himself slide down enough to reach out and grab onto Desmond's outstretched arm, and with his other he slammed his ice pick into the thick, wet snow, his teeth clacking together hard as the tip hit solid rock underneath. At first it didn't catch, and he was sure they were going to slide right off the edge, but the pick finally hit a solid enough edge to stop them short.

"Merda!" Ezio snapped through gritted teeth, fighting to hold on with the weight of two people on him, and suddenly he knew exactly how Altaïr ended up with a snapped leg- this was impossible. He couldn't keep this up, with Desmond holding onto him, and Shaun attached to Desmond by a length of rope. His hands were mostly numb, leaving him with little gripping power to hold either Desmond or the climbing tool.

He was just about to lose his grip on the ice pick when Rebecca's hands locked around his arm, her own harness clipped onto the post holding up the fixed rope. It was risky, but it was holding, for the moment; Ezio tried to get his feet under him on the steep slope, slowly edging his way up until Rebecca could slide her arms under his and help him haul himself up onto the ridge. They both fought to pull Desmond up, and then the short rope was their leverage for pulling Shaun back onto solid ground.

Shaun was dead weight at the end of the rope. Desmond knelt over him, one hand pressed to his chest, searching for any signs of life.

"Shaun! Shaun, come on, wake up, you can't sleep now!" he snapped, grabbing Shaun by the shoulder and shaking him hard. Ezio let out the breath he'd been holding when Shaun muttered something indecipherable in reply.

"No. C-Come on, up. You've got to walk," Desmond said, pulling at Shaun's arm, trying to get him to stand up, or at least sit up.

"Can't…f-feel my feet," Shaun slurred out. "Too tired…"

"You're almost there, you can't stop!"

"Des…"

Desmond made a sound low in his throat, like a stifled sob, and then-

He sat down. He dropped down in the snow next to Shaun, like his legs gave out from under him as the other four climbers looked on helplessly, and Shaun lifted his head barely an inch off the snow.

"D-Desmond…?"

"If you're not going on, then I'm n-not either," Desmond said, ignoring the curse that prompted from Ezio. "I'm not leaving you here."

"Oh mio dio, Desmond, you can't be serious-" Ezio muttered, but Rebecca shot him a sharp look. There was a long moment when no one spoke- Desmond and Shaun locked gazes, the ultimatum hanging in the air.

It was the moment when Shaun realized that Desmond was serious- that he would actually stay and die here on this mountain if Shaun didn't move- that he fought every signal from his body that told him he could go no farther.

Malik didn't think Shaun could do it. He'd seen people with altitude sickness this bad before, and once they went down, they stayed down. But somehow, with Ezio, Desmond, and Rebecca scrambling to help him, he stumbled to his feet, where he swayed and leaned on Desmond to stay upright.

Desmond leaned in, his goggles clicking against Shaun's. "Whether you walk down this mountain or sit down on it to die, you w-won't be doing it alone," he said softly, barely loud enough to be heard over the wind. "So let's get the hell off this mountain, because I want some god damn h-hot chocolate with some fucking marshmallows next to a nice warm fire. Alright?"

Shaun nodded once, and Malik adjusted his grip on Altaïr, who was leaning on him more and more with every moment, barely aware of the close call behind them. Rebecca slogged through the snow to get back in front, and Malik made sure Altaïr was ready before he started moving again, even slower than before.

A few minutes later, the radio came to life again. "Rescue team, this is Kadar, come in," the voice said, and Rebecca grabbed her radio.

"We hear you, Kadar," she said, her voice drained of any semblance of optimism it once had. They were all too tired even for that.

"I've gathered eleven climbers from the different teams here at camp four. We're all pretty tired, but we're pretty sure we can help you get Altaïr and Shaun down through the Geneva Spur and the Yellow Band, at least to camp three, over."

It was one ray of sunlight in the vicious storm, at least, and the seemingly insurmountable odds had been tipped the slightest bit in their favor. "That's great. I don't know how much we've got left in us," she managed to reply. "W-We can't be far from camp now. Can't see anything, but…we've been walking way too long. Still on the ropes. Shaun and Altaïr won't make it much further."

"We've got two helicopters headed to base camp," Lucy interrupted, her voice the most cautiously optimistic that it had been this whole night. "If you guys can just make it down to camp two, they'll be ready to do an emergency airlift to the hospital in Kathmandu for Altaïr and Shaun."

Rebecca took a couple of deep breaths. Another step. "I don't know if they'll make it that far, Lucy."

"Well, they've got to. That's the highest the helicopters can go."

"There's no way they'll make it down the Lhotse Face l-like this."

"Just concentrate on getting everyone down to camp three, okay? One step at a time here," Lucy said, and Rebecca snorted. They'd been repeating 'one step at a time' for nearly half a day now.

"Kadar, we're not going to stop at camp four. We might not get back up if we stop. Have your guys r-ready to hop on the pain train as soon as we get there."

"We'll be ready. We've got some hot tea for you to sip on, too."

I have not conquered Everest, it has merely tolerated me. -Peter Habeler

Malik had never been more proud of his brother.

The storm was finally letting up and the sun was peeking over the horizon by the time they stumbled into camp four. It would have been so, so easy to grab a thermos of hot tea and collapse into one of the tents, but Kadar knew better than to let them- and he already had the Sherpas and volunteers from the different teams organized and ready to go.

As Malik switched off to let Ezio take a shift helping Altaïr, each one of them were given a hot thermos of tea to warm them up and hydrate them a little. Shaun could barely stay on his feet with Desmond's help, let alone hold the thermos; Desmond made sure he got some of it down, though. The tea was enough to start to bring back feeling to fingers that had gone numb; if feeling didn't come back, well, that was a sign you may not have those fingers for much longer.

As soon as roles were sorted and the tea drank, they were on the move again, forced onto feet that felt as if they couldn't take a single step more.

The Sherpas had set up a modified rope system going down from camp four to camp three, making the move between the two camps fairly quick and smooth, once they worked out how to used the system with Altaïr strapped to Ezio.

Shaun was halfway down when he lost consciousness again, going limp in the ropes as Desmond yelled for help- and this time, Desmond couldn't wake him. Malik was waiting at the bottom of the ropes and helped Desmond unhook him, laying him out carefully on the snow.

"Shit. Shit," Desmond snapped, leaning in close and tugging the oxygen mask off Shaun's face. He sighed in relief when he felt that Shaun was still breathing, albeit shallow and weak. Altaïr sat on a rocky outcropping nearby, resting with Ezio after the descent, and he called Desmond's name.

"Rope him into a sleeping bag," he said, his voice hardly recognizable, even though the oxygen tanks and masks were gone now, no longer necessary at the elevation of camp three. "Have them lower him down the face in it. Only way he's getting to c-camp two."

Desmond nodded and started getting people moving gathering the necessary gear, his voice almost frantic by now. "And what about you?" Malik asked, concerned at how pale and shaky Altaïr was.

"Gonna have to d-do one hell of a belay with one foot. Can't stuff my leg into a sleeping b-bag."

"Do you have the strength left over for it?"

"No," Altaïr said, his shoulders slumped as he looked toward the path to camp two. "But I don't have a choice. It's either do it, or s-stay on this mountain and freeze. I don't plan on f-freezing."

Malik trudged through the snow to stand in front of Altaïr, reaching out to clasp his shoulder with his hand. "It's the last part of the climb. You do this, and help is waiting," he said.

Altaïr chuckled breathlessly. "H-Have to make it down s-so I can thank Shaun and kick his ass."

Malik smirked. "You and me both."

Altaïr lifted his head to look at Malik, and then reached up and out his hand over Malik's. "I h-haven't thanked you yet, either," he said, looking almost sheepish. "This was incredibly reckless, don't g-get me wrong, but…I owe you."

"No. We are even," Malik pointed out. "You saved Kadar's life. I am returning the favor."

Altaïr nodded, and then swayed and groaned, moving his hand to press it against his forehead. Malik frowned, then called for the people readying the belay ropes.

"Come on. Let's get you moving. Rest is only going to hurt you right now," he said, ducking to grab the rope holding his friend's knee and wrap his arm around his waist, forcing him up to his feet. Altaïr groaned in pain, clutching at Malik so tightly that his grip hurt even through the thick coat and gloves.

The Lhotse Face was intimidating even on the ascent, when the climbers still had most of their strength to call on. Now, even for the four without major injuries, it looked like an insurmountable obstacle.

Malik and Ezio got Altaïr strapped into the modified belay system, and then Malik led the way down, with Ezio descending right below Altaïr in case he were to slip. Rebecca and two Sherpas stayed at the top of the face, feeding the rope and watching for any problems. Altaïr slipped more than once, his slide always arrested by Ezio below and the tightening of the rope above; twice, Altaïr stopped his descent altogether, unable to summon any strength to continue. It was those times that Malik yelled encouragement from below, and then threats.

The second time, Altaïr set his goggles against the ice face and stopped answering, his body shaking so hard that the ropes were trembling. It was then that a climber in a familiar grey and red coat unclipped from the ropes not too far above, using an ice pick to free climb down to Altaïr's side.

It was Kadar.

The younger climber used his crampons to kick sturdy footholds in the ice, and then shoved his ice pick firmly into place and clipped into the fixed rope before grabbing onto Altaïr's shoulder with one gloved hand.

"You're almost there," he said, nodding his head downward. "You wouldn't let me stop here, would you? You have another ten meters, at most. You can do this. Come on, I'll climb down with you."

Altaïr didn't move at first, still shaking from both the strain of the climb and the obvious pain. But then, slowly, he lifted his head from the ice and looked down, hands getting a better grip on the rope, one by one.

"That's it," Kadar said, and Malik could hear the grin in his voice. "That's it. One meter at a time. You're so close, you've got this."

The rhythm picked back up, slower than before. Altaïr's shifts down the ice were halting, unsteady, but every time he paused for too long, Kadar was urging him onward.

Finally, finally, they reached flat ground again, where climbers who hadn't made their summit bid were waiting with stretchers and hot tea for the climbers still on their feet.

Ezio caught sight of Leonardo in his red and navy coat, striding toward them with his medical pack thrown over his shoulder, and the Italian climber felt a sudden last burst of strength. Granted, he wasn't exactly running across the snow, but he trudged quite a bit faster until he got to his boyfriend.

But he stopped short of the hug that Malik thought he was going for, and instead Ezio dropped down to one knee in the snow; Malik was already moving, sure the Italian climber was collapsing, but then Ezio grabbed both of Leonardo's hands in his.

"For God's sake, Leonardo, fucking marry me already," he said, and Leonardo blinked in surprise, then laughed and leaned over to kiss him.

"Alright. Alright, fine, I will," he said, and Ezio pulled him into another relieved kiss.

"Oh my god, stop molesting the doctor so he can treat the patients," Kadar said, rolling his eyes and giving Ezio a halfhearted kick to the leg. Between Leonardo and Kadar, they managed to get Ezio back to his feet, and Kadar helped him stumble to the nearest chair while Leonardo moved to where Altaïr was sitting in the snow.

"Altaïr, my friend. Tell me, what day is it?" Leonardo asked, kneeling next to the injured climber.

"May 21st."

"Good. Can you feel your fingers and toes? Move them at all?"

"Can't feel my left ring finger at all," Altaïr said, and Malik smacked him on the shoulder as Leonardo frowned.

"Don't be a smartass. You don't have your left ring finger."

Altaïr managed a smirk. "Well, he asked."

"I can see cognitive function has recovered at lower elevation," Leonardo said with an amused look. "I'm not going to try and get a look at your leg. The first helicopter will be here very soon, we need to get you on it."

"No," Altaïr said, shaking his head. "No, they're lowering Shaun right behind me. He needs to go first, he passed out just before camp three," he added, and Leonardo looked down at his phone to check the time.

"He's been out for hours," Malik said, answering the unasked question. "I agree with Altaïr, for once. Shaun needs to be on the first chopper. They've nearly got him all the way down now."

"Well then, I'll just give you something for the pain. It won't be long before the second helicopter can make a run up here."

It was probably the most relieved that Malik had ever seen Altaïr when Leonardo gave him a shot of morphine before moving on to where the other climbers had just reached the base of the Lhotse Face and were unstrapping the ropes from the sleeping bag holding the unconscious Brit. Desmond was right there the whole time, face grim as he spoke with Leonardo; Malik made sure Altaïr would be alright before he forced himself to cross the short distance to hear what they were saying.

"You gave him a dose of Dex, and he's had oxygen since you arrived at the Step?" Leonardo was asking, and Desmond nodded.

"Yeah. The Dex got him up and moving, but he…never really came all the way back, mentally."

Leonardo took Shaun's pulse with a frown, and then checked to see if his pupils were reacting to light at all. He was all business now, grabbing his radio and cuing it up. "Lucy, this is Leonardo, come in."

"I hear you, over."

"How long on the first helicopter? One of our climbers is critical, we need to get him to a lower elevation as quickly as possible."

"Ten minutes. Fifteen, tops. Have him on a stretcher and ready to go just below the camp. The pilot can only take the patient, no extra weight; we're pushing it as is with the stretcher added in."

"Leo, he's gonna be okay, right?" Desmond asked, his voice raw, and not just from the cold and exhaustion. Leonardo held Desmond's gaze for only a moment before looking away.

"The sooner we get him to a hospital, the better," he said, and Malik swallowed hard at the absolutely heartbroken expression on Desmond's face.

If not even Leonardo could manage to be optimistic, you knew it was bad.

There was no time to dwell on it, though. The next few minutes were all spent moving Shaun to a stretcher and securing him on it, and then the group carried him down to where a makeshift landing area had been created for the helicopter. Malik went back to Altaïr, having done as much as he could to help.

"How's Shaun?" Altaïr immediately asked, and Malik sighed. No point in lying about it.

"Not good," he said, sitting down by Altaïr's broken leg, his mind conjuring up an awful picture of how bad it must look after so many hours of moving him around. Altaïr's jaw tightened and he looked down at his leg angrily.

"He shouldn't have come up to help me without enough oxygen," he muttered.

"I would have done the same," Malik said, and Altaïr lifted his head to give Malik a confused look.

"Why? So I could watch you waste away in my stead?"

Malik swallowed hard and took a deep breath. "Because…when I imagine losing yet more of myself to these mountains, it is nothing in comparison to how I would feel losing you instead, you insufferable novice."

Altaïr stared in shock. "I…thought you hated me."

And there was Malik's fear confirmed. All this time he'd held such anger at himself that he never imagined the extent of the guilt Altaïr harbored, and how Malik's own behavior must have fed into it. "I don't hate you, Altaïr. I never have."

"You would be justified to-"

"No. No, I would not. What happened on Denali was just as much my fault as yours."

"Malik…"

"It needs to be said. Should have been said sooner," Malik said, Altaïr's gold eyes filled with hurt, and guilt, still. "You were overconfident. I was complacent. I can't share in the success of our early summits and not share in the failures as well. You were not entirely to blame."

"Malik, the other chopper will be here soon, we need to move Altaïr to the landing site!" Kadar called out from the edge of the camp, and Malik nodded and waved him on. When Kadar turned away, Malik steeled his will, turned back to Altaïr, and then leaned in and kissed him lightly.

"I don't hate you, and I never will, Altaïr," he said, watching as Altaïr's eyes widened further in surprise. "I've been a fool to let you feel that I did, all these years."

The distinctive sound of a cell phone camera going off shattered whatever 'moment' they had going, and Malik fixed a glare on Ezio, who stood nearby with Leonardo's cell phone pointed at them- and Leonardo standing next to him, one hand covering his face, probably out of embarrassment at Ezio's antics. Ezio just grinned and waved.

"Sorry to spoil the romance, but the helicopter will be here soon," he said, obviously not bothered by the glare focused on him. Malik sighed, turning back to Altaïr to ask him if he was ready to go- and instead he got pulled into a much more thorough kiss than the first.

At least this time Ezio didn't get a chance to snap a picture before Leonardo snatched his phone back.

"Come on. Let's get you to that helicopter," Malik said, reluctantly breaking the kiss. Altaïr sighed, and accepted Malik's help standing up on his good leg; at least the pain was distant and dulled now, thanks to the morphine.

"I suppose I'll see you in Kathmandu…?"

Malik nodded. The helicopter couldn't take any extra weight, and the only other way out from the south side was to hike back; unlike the north side of Everest, there was no road basically running right up to base camp. "I'll hike back as quick as I can. I'm sure Desmond will want to get back quickly too."

Malik nodded to Ezio and Leonardo, who had been waiting for just that cue, and they moved in to help steady Altaïr on the walk across camp to where a giant "X" was spray painted on the thick snow for the helicopters to see the makeshift landing zone. And even though the ordeal was far from over, seeing the helicopter come over that ledge was like the final chapter in a harrowing book.

The only question left was if the epilogue would close a tragedy or a story of triumph.

The first question which you will ask and which I must try to answer is this, 'What is the use of climbing Mount Everest ?' and my answer must at once be, 'It is no use'. There is not the slightest prospect of any gain whatsoever. Oh, we may learn a little about the behavior of the human body at high altitudes, and possibly medical men may turn our observation to some account for the purposes of aviation. But otherwise nothing will come of it. We shall not bring back a single bit of gold or silver, not a gem, nor any coal or iron. We shall not find a single foot of earth that can be planted with crops to raise food. It's no use. So, if you cannot understand that there is something in man which responds to the challenge of this mountain and goes out to meet it, that the struggle is the struggle of life itself upward and forever upward, then you won't see why we go. What we get from this adventure is just sheer joy. And joy is, after all, the end of life. We do not live to eat and make money. We eat and make money to be able to enjoy life. That is what life means and what life is for. - George Mallory

The room was quiet except for the steady beep and hiss of the machines hooked up to the redhead in the narrow bed by the window. The other three beds in the room were empty now, a couple of patients having come and gone- one under his own power, and another in a body bag. That hadn't been an encouraging moment.

Desmond sat in a chair by that farthest bed, elbows set on the edge of the bed, hands clasped in front of his face as he watched Shaun for any sign of life. Both of Shaun's hands and feet were wrapped in thick white bandages; Desmond didn't want to even think about the darkened skin of his fingers and toes from the frostbite. They wouldn't know for another few days, at least, if any would have to be removed entirely. There was a chance, however slim, that the tissues weren't completely dead, in which case it would be a slow recovery- probably with some loss of sensation, but that would be better than amputation.

The doctors were less optimistic about the cerebral edema caused by the altitude sickness. It was the final stage of altitude sickness before death set in; the brain literally swelled, and the only remedy was getting to a lower elevation as quickly as possible.

All Desmond could do was hope that they had been quick enough getting Shaun off that damn mountain. He'd been over and over the situation in his mind, everything that happened, wondering if he could have pushed Shaun to go a little bit faster- maybe recruited even more help getting them from camp four to camp two- but in the end, he knew they had done the best they could. They had pulled off what most people said was an impossible rescue in the first place, and it shouldn't have come as a surprise that it might cost someone their life.

But why did it have to be Shaun?

Sitting here, seeing the straps securing the tubes in place down his throat, the wires and IVs leading to the machines keeping him alive, hearing the steady hiss-click of the ventilator as it kept him breathing- Desmond would have done anything to trade places with him.

The only bright side of any of this was the fact that they didn't have to worry about scraping together the money for hospital bills or travel back home; the fact that their rescue got live updated to national news agencies meant that the general public was eating up every single bit of news about what happened on that mountain. Someone had gotten an online fundraiser going, and it had taken less than a day for enough funds to be donated to cover the hospital and travel expenses for everyone on the rescue team. Maybe the stupid reality show hadn't been such a bad idea after all.

Now he just had to hope they wouldn't have to put that money toward funeral expenses instead.

He shook his head as if to clear it of the unwelcome thought, dropping his hands from his face and reaching out to set one carefully on Shaun's arm, above the heavy bandages swathed around his hand. "C'mon, Shaun. You promised you'd climb Nanga Parbat with me next year. First winter ascent, show everyone we're not just glorified tour guides," he said softly, his voice gritty with exhaustion. "You're so much better than me at the technical ascents, I'm not goin' without you."

No response; not that he'd expected one. Just the silence of the room, broken by the steady sounds of the ventilator and heart rate monitor.

A soft knock on the open door finally pulled Desmond's attention from the comatose climber; he turned in his chair to see Malik standing in the doorway, and he leaned back in his chair. "Come on in," he said, and Malik hesitated a moment longer before crossing the room to them.

"How is he?" he asked, brow furrowed with a frown as he saw all the machines and bandages.

"Still in a coma," Desmond muttered, wincing at the ache in his back as he shifted in his chair. "But the doctors think he might get to keep all his fingers and toes. Frostbite wasn't as advanced as we thought."

He couldn't help the fact that his eyes landed on Malik's missing left arm as he said it. If Malik noticed, though, he didn't say anything.

"That's good," he said, shifting his weight uncomfortably and clearing his throat. "I…I'm sorry it turned out like this. He wouldn't have gone had I not insisted on a rescue."

"Don't apologize," Desmond said, trying to give Malik a reassuring look. "He knew it was a risk when he volunteered. For him, especially. We all did. And hell, we succeeded, didn't we?"

Malik didn't look entirely convinced. "If he doesn't make it, Altaïr will never forgive himself," he said, the words forced out. Desmond's breath caught, and he turned back to look at Shaun.

"He'll make it. He didn't hang on this long just to die now," he insisted, though his voice didn't sound convincing, even to himself. He felt his throat getting tight, and he changed the subject quickly, swallowing hard. "How is Altaïr?"

"Frustrated. And heavily drugged," Malik said with a tired chuckle. "They put a metal plate and eight screws in his leg. They told him it'll be months before he walks unassisted again, let alone climb anything, and you can imagine how that went over."

"Like a lead balloon."

"To say the least. He told them he'll be summiting Annapurna next year as planned, and that he'd send them a picture from the summit with some choice gestures thrown in for good measure," Malik said with a smile.

"Not surprised," Desmond said, managing to return the smile, albeit weakly. Malik sighed, looking at Shaun for a few long moments.

"I should get back to Altaïr. He can be a terror for the poor nurses," he said, though his tone was as much fond as it was exasperated. "I'll have my phone on me. Let me know if anything changes, will you?"

Desmond nodded. "Yeah. Tell Altaïr I expect to get invited on that Annapurna summit. Me and Shaun. You know, now that we're all pretty much fired and all."

'Pretty much' because while their companies hadn't outright fired them- they couldn't exactly fire them when the news and the general public seemed infatuated with the young risk takers- they had been put on an 'indefinite leave' for recovery. None of them had any illusions that they would be invited back to lead more tours. Successful or not, this rescue had broken every rule in all of the rule books they'd ever been given.

"I'll let him know," Malik said, and then he patted Desmond on the shoulder and started to walk away. He hesitated at the doorway, though, looking back over his shoulder. "Desmond?"

"Yeah?"

"Altaïr told me that…when he was waiting with Shaun, he asked him why he'd come back to help him, knowing he would run out of oxygen," Malik said, each word spoken carefully, and with a great deal of thought. "And Shaun said something to the effect of not wanting you to go through losing a family member. That part of why he did it was for you. And I'm not telling you this, breaking this confidence, to make you feel guilty, but…because I thought it is important that you know how much you mean to him."

Desmond stared down at Shaun, his hands tightening on the rough hospital bed sheets as Malik's words sunk in. Part of him was ecstatic at the thought that maybe, just maybe, they could move beyond 'friends' into something more. The other part of him was furious that it took this much to get them there- that Shaun may very well be lying on his deathbed, having never said anything.

"There were other things said, but…I believe they would be best heard from him. When he wakes up," Malik added, and Desmond nodded. When he woke up. When, not if.

"Thank you, Malik," he said, his voice softer than before.

With that, Malik, left the room quietly, leaving Desmond with the steady sounds of the machines keeping his friend clinging to life.

Desmond leaned forward against the bed once more, this time folding his arms on the edge of it and laying his head down on them. He was exhausted, his body still aching from the beating it had taken on the mountain; it wasn't long before he drifted to sleep, one hand gently gripping Shaun's arm just above the bandages.

When he woke up again, there was no light coming in through the window. He lifted his head, and it took his a few moments to figure out what woke him up- he felt movement under his hand.

He snapped fully awake at that, eyes locking on Shaun. The previously comatose climber was awake, though he looked confused and only half conscious. He was aware enough to have gotten Desmond's attention by moving his arm, though, since the tubes in his throat made speech impossible.

"Shaun!" Desmond said with a grin. "You complete asshole, do you know how much you scared me?"

Shaun blinked slowly. He was probably on some damn good drugs, given the foggy look he had as he tried to parse Desmond's words. Desmond didn't even care; he smacked the button for the nurses' station, standing up and leaning over his friend.

"You are never allowed to do that again, you hear me? Next time you scare me like that on a fuckin' mountain, I'm gonna shove a handful of ice down your pants."

Shaun was coherent enough to roll his eyes at that.

Desmond tried to calm his racing heart, gently taking hold of Shaun's face with both hands and as he leaned over to kiss him lightly on the forehead. Shaun made a soft sound, though not one of protest, and Desmond set his own forehead lightly against Shaun's, just taking it all in for a moment.

Shaun was awake. He'd pulled through.

Against all odds, they were all going to be alright.

"So, how about that Nanga Parbat summit next winter…?" he said with a smile.

For that, he received a weak smack from one heavily bandaged hand.

You've climbed the highest mountain in the world. What's left? It's all downhill from there. You've got to set your sights on something higher than Everest. — Willi Unsoeld

* ~~~ One Year Later ~~~ *

"I swear to God, Desmond, if you don't point that bloody camera away from me, I'm going to shove you off this summit when we get there."

"The camera is attached to my headgear. You want me to just not look at you for the rest of the trip?"

"You act as if I enjoy seeing your face in the first place."

"You definitely weren't complaining about my face at base camp when I was sucking your d-"

"Desmond," Malik snapped, giving him a sharp look. "Your reality show is not rated NC-17."

Desmond very nearly pouted. "They can bleep it out."

"They can only bleep out so much before your show starts sounding like the emergency broadcast system," Altaïr pointed out with a chuckle, jerking his thumb toward the steep rocks ahead. "Now, would you ladies like to summit this mountain, or go have tea time instead?"

"I think they would rather remain here to have steamy hate sex against the rocks," Ezio said, already wrapping the rope around one arm and starting slowly up the last outcropping. Rebecca scoffed.

"Says the guy who was in the next tent over like 'Oh, Leo!' half the night before we left base camp-"

"Why did I agree to this? Why," Malik said, making a good effort at pinching the bridge of his nose in frustration, even over thick goggles. "Why am I on a mountain in the death zone with five immature, perverted climbers?"

"Because you secretly love it," Altaïr pointed out, tugging down his own oxygen mask- then he reached over, tugged Malik's oxygen mask down off his face, and gave him a firm, quick kiss before following Ezio and Rebecca up the slope.

"That's what you'd like to think," Malik muttered, not very convincingly, as he tugged his mask back up into place.

Despite the pause for bickering, it wasn't long before they finally climbed the last few meters to the summit of Annapurna, just in time for the sun to break over the mountains to the east. The peaks around them poked through the clouds like islands in a white, fluffy sea, and when Malik turned to the west, the peak of Annapurna cast a pointed, dark shadow in sharp contrast against the white of the clouds and snow.

He'd climbed so many mountains in his lifetime, but he never lost that sense of wonder, seeing things from the summit.

With the weather uncharacteristically cooperative, they had time to enjoy the summit for a few minutes before they would have to head back down. They spent the time resting, admiring the view, and of course, taking pictures of everyone with the magnificent view in the background. In one of the pictures, Altaïr took off both his gloves, promptly giving the camera the middle finger with both hands right as the shutter went off.

"Really?" Malik asked, giving him a look. Altaïr just smiled.

"When we get back home, remind me to print that out and mail it to the doctors in Kathmandu. "

"I can't believe you even remembered that."

"I always remember the threats I make."

Ezio just looked confused. "What did I miss…?"

"Nothing. Nothing important, anyway," Desmond said, wrapping one arm around Shaun's waist and tugging him in close. "Come on, you guys. Let's get down this mountain so my boyfriend can enjoy my face some more."

Shaun laughed. "You're on the summit of a mountain with a 32 percent mortality rate, and that's all you can think about?"

"Are you really complaining?"

Malik shook his head at their antics, turning in time to see Altaïr wander a short distance away and sit on a small patch of bare rock. He was looking out over the mountain peaks, one hand rubbing up and down his right leg, where under layers of cloth there was still a rather impressive scar- and a lingering pain. Malik walked over to him, sitting down beside him on the rock.

"Is it painful today?" he asked, keeping his voice low. Altaïr didn't like the others to know when his leg was giving him trouble, even if none of them would give him a hard time about it.

"No more than usual," he replied, and when Malik raised an eyebrow at him, he sighed. "Okay, slightly more than usual."

"We can bring up the rear on the way down. We're ahead of schedule, we don't have to rush," Malik said. They sat in comfortable silence for a few long moments before Altaïr spoke again.

"I felt like I deserved to lose it, you know."

Malik tilted his head. "What?"

"My leg," Altaïr continued, looking down at it. "I felt like…it wasn't fair. You lost your arm because of my idiocy, and when I was put in the same position, I ended up lucky. It should have been you, to not have to suffer as much."

Malik shifted on the rock to face Altaïr. "Altaïr…you saved my brother's life. Even if I had held you entirely responsible for what happened on Denali, which I didn't, the fact that you saved Kadar more than made up for any transgressions. You're not the same man who went with me to Denali. You've grown. You've changed."

"I…wish I had the same faith in myself that you do in me, Malik."

"You will, someday," Malik said firmly, bumping Altaïr's shoulder with his own. "Come on now. There's no one I feel safer descending this mountain with than you. Let's go home, Altaïr."

Altaïr smiled and got to his feet with a slight wince, and then helped Malik to his feet as well. For one moment longer, they just enjoyed the view of the sun rising over the Himalayas, much like it had risen over the summit of Everest only a year before.

But this time, they had summited together; and though broken and battered from the past, Malik had no doubt that they would leave this mountain together, even if it seemed against all odds. After all, in the aftermath of Everest, they had made a pact, all six of them.

No one gets left behind.

It is not the mountain we conquer but ourselves. – Edmund Hillary