Archive of Our Own

Sixty years ago, a young, freshly hired constable of the New Midgard Police Force, named Lyfrassir Edda, ended up backstage after a show with some travelling musicians. When the night wound to a close and turned into dawn, they found themselves in bed with the band’s fiddler, a man with a mischievous smile and a metal arm, named Marius.

Marius with his clever fiddler’s hands; Marius, whose warm soft mouth delivered biting sarcasms, silly jokes and exquisite pleasure as easy as breathing; Marius’ strong arms that held them through the morning when they were both to o exhausted to fuck again, until Lyf realised they were late for work and had to run with only a promise to see each other again.

Marius, Marius, Marius! For nearly a week, their heart had beaten the rhythm of his name and their belly had been filled with giddy butterflies at the thought of seeing him again, as they counted down the days until their date. When the day finally arrived, they were useless at work. Their palms were so sweaty with nerves that their coffee cup slid right out of their hands during lunch, and by the time the end of their shift was nearing their heart was hammering madly. Mentally, they’d checked out an hour ago and instead spent all their brainpower on compiling the perfect outfit: one that simultaneously said “please ravish me right now” and “I really like you and want to see you again, possibly every day”. Well, they did try to suppress that particular thought, because they had after all only met him once, but he’d been so nice…

Just before their shift ended there was a commotion of some sort in the entrance hall, and the shouting and cheering drew even Lyfrassir out of their head to see what it was about. Smiling, they put away their work and turned the lights off in the office. Maybe this would turn out to be a fun little story to tell Marius tonight? He was so well travelled and had so many stories to tell, but he’d still been very interested in everything they’d said…

The second they walked into the entrance hall, the butterflies fluttering in their stomach turned to cold, sick dread. On the floor lay three unconscious bodies, their hands and feet tightly tightly cuffed. Lyf recognised all three of them, of course, but it was only one that mattered: Marius, his hair matted with blood, seeping from a wound on his temple. All around them, their colleagues were cheering, bottles of sparkling wine were being popped open, because those bastard bandits that had been plaguing them for twenty fucking years had finally been caught!

Quietly, Lyf backed away, back into the dark office. Someone tried to catch their arm, saying something they couldn’t hear over the ringing in their ears.

From that moment on, they hated all of them with burning force, even more than they had when they were only faceless, nameless bandits that killed and stole and made their planet unsafe. And most of all, they hated Marius von Raum . At least that was always what they told themselves.

*

But that was sixty years ago, and the Lyfrassir Edda that stumbles onto their chartered ship and fumbles with the controls doesn’t spare a thought for von Raum or his companions.

They don’t watch Midgard and the Yggdrasil system be devoured by the dread gods Odin summoned, instead electing to cower beneath the control panel and drinking themselves into oblivion. The ship’s autopilot is already programmed and will need no input until they reach the Hoddmimis mining colony, so Lyf doesn’t bother. Instead they drink until they pass out, and when they’ve screamed themselves awake they repeat the cycle, over and over. The only coherent thought in their head is the desperate need to get away , as far and fast as possible.

They are barely awake when, right on the edge of the system, something catches the tail end of the ship. It shakes and judders violently, turning over twice before flies on. Lyf is bruised and terrified and stays curled up in a ball with their eyes tight shut and their hands clamped over their ears until the squamous rainbow tentacles slithering all over the walls disperse, along with the maddening, seductive singing of the Void.

Early on the fourth day, according to the ship’s log, they drain the last drops of Midgardian brännvin . After that, it doesn’t take long for the doubts to set in. Did they do the right thing? No, their mind helpfully supplies. You should have tried to save more people, instead of running like a coward. Lyf shake s their head, hands clutched in their hair. I would have died! But their mind is merciless: Yes. Then maybe you should have, like everyone else you ever knew.

And just like that, it hits them. Hits them that they are alone, completely, utterly alone; the sole survivor of a civilisation erased from the universe as if it had never existed at all. And they? They, 2^nd Class Inspector Lyfrassir Edda, did not lift a finger to help.

Lyf doubles over and throws up, choking on bile and tears that won’t come. They sob and whimper, arms wrapped around themselves as they desperately fight to keep the recordings from the black box from playing over and over again before their mind’s eye. Then, finally, they remember the prisoners. Did they make it out? Did – did von R… Marius? They wail anew at the thought of him caught in the Bifrost, his singing and infuriating violin swallowed by nameless, squirming rainbows, his never-aging body torn apart by screaming, writhing horrors that they wish they hadn’t seen, but the restored recordings were crystal clear and they saw everything; they still see everything and it will not stop. They can’t breathe, they can’t move, they can’t –

This is wrong. The words echo through Lyf’s head like they were spoken aloud; maybe they were. Your planet is gone, the system lost. You don’t belong in the universe anymore. They take a deep, shuddering breath. When they took this ship they only thought of escaping, thinking in their terror that the warning in the report was enough.

“You stupid fucking idiot”, they whisper to themselves as they look around, considering their options. “Nobody probably even heard it before they were all eaten by eldritch rainbows.” Even if Marius and the other prisoners did make it out, Lyf will never know. They left without thinking of Lyf, so why should Lyf waste their last thoughts on them?

They settle for their (maybe slightly illegal, they think with a bitter chuckle, like it matters anymore!) pocket knife. It’s sharp enough, and since they inconveniently left their gun in New Midgard, it’s probably the best alternative. If they had the energy, they could probably override the safety systems preventing the landing ramp from opening in deep space, but why bother when they have the knife?

For a while, they sit turning it over and over in their hands, wishing they hadn’t already drunk all their booze. Not that their resolve is wavering, it would just be nice to be drunk instead of having a blazing headache when they die. Scrubbing a hand over their face, they turn their head one final time to look out into the stars in front of the ship: faraway pinpricks of light dot the darkness all around them, and it’s so beautiful it takes their breath away.

With a bitten-off sob, they wrench their gaze away and unfold the knife’s wickedly sharp blade. They carefully roll up their sleeves so nothing will get in the way, position the knife and slash. The cut is so deep they barely feel it, and they quickly move on to the other wrist, once again cutting a deep, long gash up their lower arm. Their work done, they let the knife clatter to the floor and lean back against the control panel, closing their eyes.

There, they fixed it. Now they can rest.

*

“This must be their ship!”

“Yeah, I know. You’ve said it at least fifteen times already.”

“I just want to find them, see they made it out okay!”

“Since when do you care so much about a fucking mortal?”

“Don’t get him started, Ashes. He’s been bitching about that fucking cop for sixty years now, I’ve never seen him with a crush this bad before.”

“Shut up, Raph! They’re cute, alright? And it got a bit lonely in the cell, I mean, you had Ivy…”

“Well, you were always welcome to join in, it’s not my fault that you got into your head to stay ‘faithful’ to someone who hated your guts the whole time.”

“It’s alright, Raph, I don’t expect your to understand the depth of f- Ouch! What was that for? Look, I think this door leads to – No, fuck, fuck, no, no no no, fuck, Lyf, no –“

Marius runs the final steps to Lyf’s side, slipping on the shimmering rainbow gunk pooling beneath their limp body. The flow from the cuts on their wrists have slowed to an iridescent ooze, and they don’t react when Marius touches their shoulder.

“Lyf?” he says, cupping their face while he searches for a pulse with his metal hand. “Lyf, can you hear me? It’s Marius.” Lyf’s jaw is slack and their eyes are closed, and Marius’ throat is tight with panic. They’re so still, and losing all that – his eyes flick down to the strange, shimmering substance on the floor – blood can’t be healthy, even if it definitely doesn’t look like something that belongs inside a body. With a choked curse, he switches hands to caress Lyf’s cheek and check under their eyelid with the metal one and look for a pulse with the flesh one.

There! It’s faint and erratic, but there! Marius hoots with joy as their eyelids flutter and Lyf opens their eyes. He sees them go wide for half a moment, and Lyf makes a strangled sound that could be an attempt to speak or just a cry of pain or fear. Then their eyes close again, and the pulse under Marius’ fingers stutters and disappears. Incredulous, he falls back onto the floor, the rainbow blood soaking through his trousers in a moment.

“We were supposed to save them”, he says, voice flat and hoarse. “If – if you hadn’t been so slow we might have saved them!” He points accusingly at Raphaella, who is hovering a few inches off the floor close by the door.

“Come on, Marius. There is nothing you can do. You tried, but they chose this by the looks of it. Let’s go back.” She flutters over and extends a hand to him. He takes it reluctantly and allows her to pull him to his feet.

“I – I don’t just want to leave them”, he mutters. “I… owe them that much.”

“No, you don’t. We can reprogram the ship to find a star or something, but you need to let them go now, Marius.”

“I –” He swallows thickly. Neither his heart nor his lungs are working right, and his flesh hand tingles numbly. He turns back to Lyf’s corpse, icy dread creeping down his spine when he thinks the words. He was too late, too fucking late to save the one fucking person in the universe he cared about saving! Ashes is kneeling in the puddle next to Lyf’s body, and they’re holding one of their hands in theirs, examining the slashed wrist.

“Hey, guys? You should come and have a look at this.”

Tiny, glowing rainbows are flitting over Lyf’s skin, knitting the split muscle and skin back together. Their hands are spasming wildly like it hurts, and just as Marius drops to his knees next to them, their back arches and they scream . It goes on for a long time, and when it finally ends, Lyf collapses limply into Marius’ waiting arms, unconscious. He hugs them tight to his chest and buries his face in their hair, relishing the beating of their heart against his.

*

The first thing they become aware of is that everything hurts, including parts of them they didn’t even know existed. They try to whimper weakly, but that hurts too, so instead they try to figure out what happened and where they might be now. The thought of an afterlife crosses their mind for a second, but they dismiss it; given their track record lately, they won’t be that lucky. I’m not dead, they think. I should be dead.

Then it hits them. von Raum – Marius! Marius was there… or was he only a figment of their dying imagination, their brain either trying to conjure some comfort or possibly annoy them back to life? But that doesn’t make sense, because wherever they are, they are not slumped on the floor of a Midgardian ship. So what went wrong? They groan as they pry their eyes open, blinking against the harsh light.

“Oh, you’re awake, that’s great! You had Marius really worried there for a while.”

While they have no idea where they are, they do know that voice. They turn their head, and there she is: the mad scientist one, Raphaella la Cognizi, her wings folded behind her. She pushes her goggles out of the way to peer at them. They clear their throat, wincing at the tearing sound.

“Where am I?”

“On the Aurora, our starship.”

“Wh-what happened?”

“Um… you know what, I’ll go fetch Marius, okay? He’ll tell you everything.” She turns off the flame of her portable Spunsen burner and corks the beaker on it. It’s filled with neon blue, bubbling liquid, probably the most patently poisonous thing Lyf has ever seen. la Cognizi takes off her gloves and heads towards the door. “You’ll be alright for a few minutes?”

Lyf nods, not trusting their voice not to betray them. But la Cognizi doesn’t give them so much as a glance before disappearing out the door, closing it behind her. Lyf doesn’t waste a moment in swinging their legs over the edge of the cot. Black spots dance in front of their eyes as they stand; when did they last eat anything solid? Realising their legs won’t support them, they settle for crawling over to the rolling table la Cognizi used as a makeshift lab bench. They can just reach the beaker from their place on the floor.

It’s hot and burns their fingers, but it doesn’t matter. With shaking hands, they unplug the cork, take a deep breath and drink down the blue liquid. Acid, they have time to think, some kind of acid, before their insides are on fire and everything is pain. They open their mouth to scream but no sound comes; instead they feel their throat corroding from the inside, the lining of their stomach dissolving, as the footage from the train play in front of their eyes: Garm and Tyr; Odin in her madness; Thor fighting his way through the squirming, writhing rainbow tentacles towards her compartment… Kvasir bleeding out on the altar, setting it all in motion; Freya’s soundless scream as Frey is flayed alive… They claw at their throat, and it hurts, it hurts, it hurts –

*

“You left them alone, Raph, really?! I told you to stay with them!”

“I thought you’d want to know they were awake.” She flutters her wings, struggling to keep up with his hurried pace on foot. Not for the first time, she wonders what Marius sees in this grumpy traffic cop, and why he cares so much about them. They are just a mortal – Well, maybe not, she revises, because scientific accuracy is important – but they’re not one of them.

“You could have asked the Aurora to tell me or something!” Marius glares at her, and she shrugs. They reach the door. Marius throws it open and freezes, stopping so suddenly that Raphaella collides with his back.

“Ow!” she starts to exclaim when she gets a look in over his shoulder and feels her stomach drop.

The rolling table has been overturned, the remains of a shattered beaker glint in the fluorescent light, and Lyf… Lyf is crouching on the floor, their face contorted in pain, vomiting a thick sludge glowing in all the colours of an eldritch rainbow. She stares at them, eyes wide.

“Shit, I didn’t think –”

“You never do when it’s about people, only with your science!”

“Well, to be fair it looks like they ruined that too…”

“Not the time, Raph!” Marius finally gets his legs moving again and skid to a halt next to Lyf, who collapses into his arms with a whimper. He holds them, gently petting their hair as they heave again, more rainbow sludge pouring from their mouth. Marius looks like he’s about to cry. “Hey, hey, hey, you’re okay, you’ll be okay, you’ll be okay, I’m here, I’m here, you’re safe…”

Raphaella rolls her eyes at his muttered stream of comforting nonsense and starts looking around for a safe container to store some of the rainbow goo in. She has no idea what it is yet, except that it must be connected to the Bifrost, but she is damned if she’s not going to find out everything about it. She was a bit miffed about being dragged away from Lyf’s ship before she had time to collect a sample yesterday, but by the looks of it, it won’t be too hard to get more.

*

Lyf’s pulse is faint and erratic and might even stop entirely at some point while Marius carries them back to his room. Tiny, glimmering rainbows sparkle across their lips as the acid burns heal in front of his eyes, and something almost like static electricity tickles his chest where it’s pressed again Lyf’s. They whimper and moan, and a few shimmering tears slide from their closed eyelids. Marius tries to swallow down the torrent of emotion threatening to choke him, the urge to go and strangle Raphaella warring with this weird compulsion to take care of Lyf, that he isn’t sure what to make of.

During the years in the prison, nursing the stupid crush was a fun way to pass the time. Trying to get the rise out of them was honestly a great pastime, because they bristled so beautifully at every flirty sarcasm, and their exasperated sighs when he started singing could fuel his fantasies for weeks. Especially since he did have the memories of their only night together to help augment them… However, it wasn’t until they were speeding away in the shuttle, already halfway to the Aurora, he realised that maybe he should’ve offered them a lift out. That he – both Ivy and Raph had seen him choke on that thought – wanted to have offered them a lift.

But by then it was far too late to turn back safely, even for them, so he tried to put it out of his mind. Unfortunately, his mind had not been cooperative in the slightest, and he kept worrying at the thought of them being stuck on New Midgard when Yog-Sothoth came through. Marius nearly had to turn away as the rest of the crew watched eagerly as the system was destroyed, entranced by this once-in-an-endless-lifetime show of teeth and tentacles and colours never seen before… He glances down at Lyf, where the rainbows are still dancing over their skin; the same rainbows they saw devour the Yggdrasil system.

Afterwards, he asked Brian to start keeping an active lookout for any vessels looking like they might have escaped the destruction. Brian stared at him for an uncomfortably long time before he nodded, promising to tell Marius if anything showed up on the Aurora’s radar. He spent the next four days telling himself that it was idle curiosity making him pace the halls instead of sleeping, and only a detached interest in the psychological effects of seeing one’s entire system devoured by eldritch monster gods that made his flesh hand tremble every time he thought of Lyf caught in the destruction.

When Brian told him there was a small ship close by, Marius had intended to board it, check if Lyf had made it out alright and leave again. Carrying them through the Aurora while they smear rainbow puke all over his clothes, and his heart doing a number of strange things that would probably be very concerning if he was mortal, had most empathetically not been part of the plan.

He finally reaches his room and gently lowers Lyf onto the bed. He’ll have to make up a cot for one of them eventually, but that’s a problem for later. He considers their ruined clothes; they are still wearing their uniform, now stained and torn beyond recognition. Finding clothes that fit them will be tricky, because they’re taller even than Tim, and far slimmer than Brian. In fact, they’re as tall as… hm. But that is a later problem as well, for the time being some ill-fitting pyjama bottoms and an oversized shirt will be fine. He contemplates stripping them, but decides that they would probably consider that a violation, even during the circumstances. He settles for removing their shoes before changing his own clothes and curling up in his armchair to wait.

*

When Lyf wakes up, Marius is dozing with an old psychology magazine over his face. He jerks awake when they stir and moan in the bed, and falls over in his hurry to reach them before – before – He’s not even sure what he’s worried about, all thoughts but reach Lyf are still too sleep-muddled to make sense.

“Hey”, he croaks as Lyf blinks at him. For a moment, they merely look confused. Then their face crumples and they stare at him with huge, anguished eyes.

“I’m thirsty”, they whisper, their voice a hoarse rasp. Marius curses his lack of foresight, of course they are! He hurries to fetch a glass of water and supports them with an arm around their back as they drink it in tiny, careful sips.

“You had me worried there for a while, Inspector.” Marius tries for a smile, but isn’t sure it comes out right. Lyf frowns at him.

“Please don’t call me that. I’m not an inspector any more.”

“Alright. Still had me worried, though.”

“… why do you care?”

“I –” To cover his lack of an answer, he takes the glass away and even washes it in the bathroom sink before he goes back. When he comes back, Lyf is sitting up on their own, studying their wrecked clothes.

“Ugh”, they say, their nose wrinkled in disgust. “Do you have anything clean I could borrow? And maybe a shower?”

“Of course. The shower’s just through there.” He waves in the direction of the en-suite bathroom. “Just… don’t… do anything… stupid?” Lyf shakes their head.

“I – I don’t know what’s happening to me, but I – I don’t want to… trigger it again. And since I’m alive I want to get all this… stuff off me.”

Marius can’t really argue with that, so after making sure their legs hold them, he lets them go and have a shower alone. They wouldn’t want him there anyway, and he has some clothes to fetch, but to his relief they agree to leave the door open a crack.

When he comes back, a pile of clothes bunched in his arms, no sound is coming from the bathroom. No running water, no footsteps… and the lights are off. Marius throat tightens, he tosses the clothes onto the floor and wrenches the bathroom door open all the way, dreading the sight that might meet him. What he does see is a lot less dramatic than the fifty scenarios his mind unhelpfully conjured up, but no less unsettling: Lyf, standing naked in front of the mirror and leaning heavily on the sink, shimmering tears falling into the basin, and all over their skin, glimmering rainbows flicker and dance. As he watches, their knees buckle and they collapse in a heap on the floor.

For a long, long moment, Marius can’t move. For sixty years, he’s been fantasising about seeing Lyf naked again, and it takes a second for his brain to overrule his treacherous body. Then he squats next to Lyf and reaches out for them.

“Can – can I touch you?” When Lyf only whimpers in reply, he places a tentative hand on their shoulder. “You okay?”

Lyf wails, their entire body shaking. Marius snatches a towel from the rack on the wall and wraps it around them before pulling them into his arms. They barely seem to notice.

“I should be dead”, they sob. “I want to be dead, why won’t I die? Please just let me die!”

Marius swallows, trying to recall what all of his countless psychology handbooks say about situations like these. Unfortunately none of them have ever covered the situation of “being the sole survivor of an eldritch apocalypse in which their entire system was erased from reality, and also manifesting strange signs of eldritch possession”.

“No”, is what he settles for. “I won’t.”

*

They have no idea how much time passes before they’ve finally cried themselves out. When the tears finally run dry, they are utterly exhausted, incapable of doing anything but lie with their head in Marius’ lap and remember how to breathe with anything but shallow gasps. They have no memory of where the towel covering them comes from, but they are immensely grateful for it, feeling exposed enough as it is. Marius is leaning against the wall, petting their hair and humming under his breath. Right now they can’t muster the energy to be annoyed at it, not even when they recognise the song as one of the ones the band played that night Lyf saw them live, so long ago. Something about blood and whiskey… Well, that’s a thought. They clear their throat a little.

“Do you have anything to drink? Something strong, I mean?”

Marius startles, and the humming abruptly stops.

“Are you sure that’s a good idea? Don’t you want to eat something first?” he asks. Lyf glares at him until he sighs. “Fine. We can find some food at the same time, I guess. And no, I don’t, actually, since I haven’t really been home for about eighty years, but Jonny or Ashes will. I’m fairly certain Jonny’s even got his own distillery somewhere on the ship, although he’s never admitted it. Let’s go ask them.”

Lyf freezes. Of course there are more of them, how could they have forgotten that? The thought of meeting them is not particularly tempting, but since they are apparently stuck on the same ship it might be best to get it over with. So they sigh and nod, accepting Marius’ hand up. When he pulls them to their feet, they glance at their bare arm. At some point, possibly at their request, Marius flipped the light in the bathroom back on, and the moment the lamps flickered to life the swirling patterns on their skin disappeared. Now their pale skin looks the same as ever, but they can still feel that something is… different.

The clothes Marius brought fit surprisingly well, even if both the design and fabric are strange to them. Filled with trepidation, they follow Marius out into the ship.

The Aurora is huge, and Lyf’s legs begin to tremble after only a few minutes’ walk through empty corridors. The lights are dim – early evening according to the ship’s artificial daylight cyzcle, Marius explains, which means most of the crew will probably be having dinner in the kitchen or common room at the moment. At the renewed mention of food, Lyf almost doubles over as their stomach clenches, the hunger they didn’t feel before suddenly threatening to overwhelm them. Black spots dance in front of their eyes, and they have to grab Marius’ arm to stay upright.

“Fine”, they grumble, “I’ll eat something.” Not that they find anything particularly wrong with their earlier idea of If I can’t be dead I can be drunk, but at this stage one shot of anything would probably either make them sick or knock them right out, back into the unfailing nightmares that haunt their sleep since they left New Midgard. Neither is a prospect they relish.

“Great”, Marius says before shooting them a warning look. “Just – just don’t touch anything in the kitchen until I tell you it’s safe. Raph has a tendency to leave weird things around the place in hopes of entrapping an unknowing test subject, and that’s rarely a nice experience. … please don’t guzzle any more of Raph’s science projects, alright? It’s my medical opinion that it’s very bad for your health.”

*

The look of dry contempt Lyf aims at him for that comment makes something tight inside Marius abruptly uncoil, because he has been on the receiving end of it so many times before. It’s exactly the scowl they used to give him in the prison, whenever he started singing or playing his violin, and the familiarity of it is comforting. He keeps hold of their elbow the rest of the way to the kitchen, trying not to show them how relieved he is.

As he expected, most of the crew is gathered there, making short work of something that smells spicy and delicious.

“Hey, save some for us!” he shouts over the din of the crew’s conversation. They go quiet all at once, and the ones already turned towards the door crane their necks to get a look at their guest. Ashes is still the only one from the crew that weren’t stuck in prison who’s seen Lyf, but Marius guesses they’ve been the subject of a lot of gossip the past day.

Jonny is sitting with his back to them and is in the middle of a heated exchange with Tim, and thus he is the last person to catch a glimpse of Lyf. Brian, apparently on MJE, has already risen to formally greet them when Jonny finally turns, looks at them, and goes pale.

“Who the fuck gave you permission to give them her clothes?” he snarls, his chair crashing to the floor. Marius swears internally. If he’d just taken a fucking moment to think, he could have predicted this reaction, but oh no. He’d been too focused on Lyf and what they needed to remember that Jonny still might be touchy about anyone going near Nastya’s long-abandoned possessions. Wincing, he remembers when Jonny caught him eyeing her violin, a century before they were caught in Midgard. He’d actually thrown Marius into the engine, where the heat was intense enough that it had taken him a week to crawl back out in between the deaths-by-melting, and Jonny had still refused to talk to him for more than a month afterwards.

Without thinking, he moves himself so he’s standing between Lyf and Jonny, who is already reaching for his pistol. Shit, how could he be so stupid as to leave all of his own weapons in his room? He’s never unarmed, except apparently when his brains are thoroughly addled by trying to take care of Lyfrassir Edda in the middle of their honestly very reasonable breakdown. But before any shots are fired, Ashes hits Jonny over the head with a plate. It shatters in an explosion of porcelain shards and Jonny drops like a clubbed moon-beast.

“No fucking sense of tact”, they sigh before looking at Lyf, who’s pressed themselves tightly to the wall, trembling all over again. “Sorry about him. So you’re up and about again, huh?”

“… yes?”

Marius clears his throat.

“Uh, we were going to ask you if you have any booze to spare. I haven’t had the chance to stock up yet, and Lyf wants a drink.”

Ashes snorts, still scrutinizing Lyf.

“I bet they do. Sure thing, I’ll be right back.” They leave, and Marius glares at the rest of the assembled crew, willing them to be quiet while he gathers up two plates of what looks like Brian’s splasagna.

“Tell them we’ll be in my room?” he asks, already towing Lyf along. He’s thankful when Brian nods, because Lyf looks like they need to sit down somewhere quiet before they collapse. Which is entirely Marius’ fault, he thinks with an uncomfortable twisting in his gut. He really isn’t doing a great job of taking care of Lyf, and he doesn’t like how guilty it makes him feel. Dragging them out to meet the crew already was a stupid move, of course he should have introduced them one by one! He spends the whole way back to his room quietly cursing himself and wondering if he can safely leave Lyf on their own, because he needs… something. His metal hand twitches. Violence. Violence is what he needs.

In the end, it’s Ashes who comes to his rescue. Lyf is picking at their food and Marius is pacing in ever-quickening circles when they knock softly and step inside before he has time to open the door. They’re carrying a large bottle of whiskey, and after looking between the room’s two occupants for a moment, they offer it to Marius first. He tosses the cork into a corner and takes a few deep swigs directly from the bottle before handing it back.

“Could you stay here for a while?” he asks, wiping his mouth. They look at him and shrug.

“Sure. It’ll be fun to see what all the fuss’s been about. Where do you keep the glasses?”

He points, and they fetch two while Marius digs out two of his least favourite guns from the bottom of his weaponry drawer. He only gives Lyf a quick glance as he hurries out, his pulse hammering in his ears. They’re with Ashes, they’ll be fine . If there is anyone in the crew he actually trusts can take care of Lyf right now, it’s probably Ashes. Or Brian, but if Lyf wants a drinking partner, Ashes is definitely the best bet. Hell, they’ll probably do a better job than Marius, and that thought does sting.

With an effort, he closes the door softly behind him and sets off for the shooting range.

The door is completely soundproofed, so he doesn’t notice that someone is already there until he opens the door and sees Tim hit bullseye with five consecutive rounds – wearing a fucking blindfold.

“Oh fuck off, Gunpowder, now you’re just showing off”, he mutters. Tim tears off the rag he’s tied around his head.

“You sound grumpy, baron.” He grins, putting his gun down on a stack of boxes next to him. “Not going so great with your one true love?”

Marius punches him. His metal hand connects with Tim’s face with a satisfying crunch, his entire cheekbone caving in. He brings his fist down again, and Tim crashes into the crates behind him. When he wakes up, spitting out a mouthful of blood and now surplus teeth, Marius has moved on to reducing another pile of crates to matchsticks.

“You’re out of practice”, is fortunately his only comment this time around, so Marius only grunts and sets up a new target. When he fires his next round, he actually concentrates on trying to hit it, if only to show Tim he hasn’t lost it completely during his time away.

*

“So you’re Lyfrassir Edda. Raph and Ivy’s been telling me about you.” Ashes tilts their glass at Lyf in a mocking toast.

“What have they been saying?” They swirl the amber liquid before tasting it. It doesn’t quite taste like the whiskey back h- They take another gulp to stop the thought in its track. It’s strong, and that’s the only thing that matters.

“That annoying you were the most fun they had in prison, but that listening to Marius go on about you for sixty fucking years apparently got a bit tiresome.” Ashes grins as Lyf blushes. “So what’s the deal with you two? He wasn’t in a particularly sharing mood when you were bleeding all over him on the way back from your ship.”

Lyf pauses, frowning at their glass. What is their deal with him? A week ago, they would have said he was an unfortunate mistake in their youth, that had left a regrettable impression on them and the only actual emotions he evoked in them was hatred and annoyance. They probably would have punched anyone implying otherwise… But now?

“I – I honestly have no idea. He… saved me, I guess. Although by the looks of it I wouldn’t be dead anyway. And Alexandria’s the one who restored the black box’s recordings for me, so I guess it’s her I should thank for being able to get away.” They drain their glass, holding it out for more. “I wish I hadn’t.”

“Yeah, I figured.” Ashes fills their glass to the brim before topping up their own. Lyf takes another drink.

“Who was it, what’s his name, um…”

“Jonny?”

“Yes. Who was the ‘her’ that Jonny mentioned? Apparently I’m wearing her clothes.” They watch Ashes’ face intently, and don’t miss the flicker of grief twisting their mouth before they manage to smooth it out.

“Nastya. She… left. Maybe she’s even dead, we don’t know. All we know is that she isn’t coming back.”

“And Jonny…?”

“Didn’t take it well.”

“Oh. I should find some other clothes.”

“Eh, he’ll have to deal with it. Marius was right, her clothes are probably the only ones to fit you. I’ll deal with Jonny, don’t worry about it. Hey, what do you prefer, cards or dice?”

*

When Marius creeps back into his room, Lyf is sound asleep and Ashes is sitting with their feet propped up against the wall, flicking a lighter on and off.

“Pretty rude, your new friend. Conked out in the middle of a card game”, they say in greeting. They stand up and stretch, the lighter disappearing into a pocket. “Well, I’m off to get some sleep, too. I’ll leave you the whiskey.” And before Marius has time to reply, they’re gone.

He plops into the armchair with a frustrated sigh, only realising after he’s sat down that he’s still covered in Tim’s blood. Ah well, a little blood here and there is nothing new on the Aurora, the cleaning bots will deal with it. Or he’ll get a new chair, it doesn’t matter. While it felt good to blow off some steam in the shooting range, it didn’t help quite as much as he had hoped. Something hot and tight is still writhing in his chest at the thought of Lyf, and he has no idea what to do with a feeling like that. The crush in prison was never meant to last past leaving the Yggdrasil system, but with Lyf right here, he can’t ignore how they make him feel.

Lyf stirs in their sleep, wrinkling their nose and brushing a few tickling strands of hair out the way. Marius heart twists, and he grimaces. That all his crew mates actually have a lot more feelings than they usually let on – except maybe the Toy Soldier, because who can really know anything about the inner life of a wooden mannequin? It’s definitely less forthcoming about its emotions than Jonny’s belts or Ashes’ cigar collection, according to Marius’ very scientific studies – is something he guesses they are all aware of on some level. Spread unevenly over the millennia, he has probably seen all of them break down over something, but that doesn’t make this soft, warm twisting of emotion mixed with cold terror at losing Lyf again any easier. He’s a ruthless space pirate, happy to murder whoever happens to stumble across his way and let entire star systems be devoured by tentacled rainbow horrors, as long as they provide a good story!

He scrubs at his face and swears quietly. Maybe he’ll follow Lyf’s lead and finish off the bottle, it’ll help him sleep. After washing up a bit, he adds when he sees the dull brown powder of dried blood he’s shedding everywhere.

In the end, he doesn’t even need the whiskey. Having failed to make up a cot for himself, and having Lyf sprawled all over the bed, he settles for the armchair again and is asleep within minutes.

They lights have turned themselves off when he is woken up by a whimper. Lyf is no longer sleeping peacefully. Instead they toss and turn and whimper, waving their arms in front of them, trying to fend off some unseen foe. Marius can’t make out any words, but it’s not hard to make a decent guess at what they might be dreaming about, especially given the glowing rainbow patterns swirling across every inch of exposed skin. He flips the lights on, and the rainbows disappear.

“Lyf?” No response. He takes a few steps closer to the bed. “Lyf?” he tries again, slightly louder this time. Millennia with the Mechanisms have taught him that touching someone on this ship having a nightmare will usually mean a swift and brutal death, which isn’t particularly fun when one would rather get some actual sleep, so he gives it a few more tries before he decides to go with a more physical approach.

He sits down on the edge of the bed and gently shakes Lyf’s shoulder. They try to bat his hand away before jerking upright and waking. For a few seconds, they stare at him, confused and uncomprehending, before they fall into him with a cry.

“You’re alive”, they gasp, clutching fistful of his shirts. Marius frowns in confusion.

“Yeah, I am…?”

But Lyf offers no further clarification as they bury their face in his shoulder and start to sob.

*

The next morning, they slip away when Marius is still fast asleep, uncomfortably curled in the armchair. They want a few minutes on their own, to clear their head after falling asleep clutching Marius’ shirt after crying over a nightmare that kept sticking his face on the ever-repeating images from the black box. They’re halfway to the kitchen – ‘earlier’ according to the Aurora’s artificial timekeeping than most of the crew usually eats, according to Marius – when Ashes waylays them. They thrust a bundle of clothes at Lyf.

“Here you go, they should fit decently. Used to be Brian’s.”

“Oh. Thank you.”

“Don’t thank me, thank Jonny. Apparently he wanted you out of Nastya’s things bad enough he decided to fix new ones for you own his own accord, I didn’t even have to shoot him. I had no idea he had that kind of problem solving in him.” They shrug. “I’d still stay out of his way for a bit, though. He was up all night chugging enough coffee to kill a mortal and sewing, so he’s probably vibrating around somewhere, shooting at shadows. And on top of that he’s probably feeling a bit queasy at the thought of having done something nice for someone, even if it was done for selfish reasons.”

“Why do you… care about me?”

“I sure as hell don’t. But Marius has decided he wants to keep you, and I see no reason to get in the way of his pet project. And he just got back after nearly a century away, so consider this my welcome home present to him.”

“Right. Thank you for your honesty, I guess…?” Lyf looks after them as Ashes grins and saunters off with a lazy salute.

The kitchen is blessedly empty, except for a wooden mannequin facing the corner. Its uniform is unfamiliar to Lyf, but unmistakably military, the red and black fabric neat and immaculate. Too groggy to pay it any more attention, they start hunting for breakfast. They’ve just found a jar of something looking at least vaguely edible and started to spoon it into a bowl, disregarding Marius’ warning about la Cognizi leaving experiments around, when a voice close to their ear interrupts them.

“Would You Care For A Spot Of Tea, My Good Fellow?”

Lyf shrieks, and the bowl crashes to the floor. The mannequin is holding a delicate teacup in one hand, and a steaming teapot in the other. As Lyf watches, it pours the tea and offers it to Lyf.

“There Is No Need To Be Impolite, I Am Sure We Will Get Along Spiffingly!” It’s painted smile should not be able to widen, but when it does, Lyf flees.

They run all the way back to Marius’ room, where they stumble inside and collapse into a hyperventilating heap. Somehow they managed to snag the clothes Ashes gave them, and they hug them to their chest as they squeeze their eyes shut and try to – to… Forget where they are? Everything that’s happened? That they are the last splinter of a great, multi-planetary civilisation, who is probably doomed to wander the universe forever, oozing rainbow doom wherever they go? With a jolt, they realise they’re laughing, laughing so hard their sides ache, and when they can’t breathe for it, it once again turns into huge, dry, hiccuping sobs as they gasp for breath.

“My professional expertise tells me you’re having panic attack. Can I hug you?” Marius’ voice is low and tense, and Lyf can’t form the words to answer. But they do lean into Marius’ tentative hand on their shoulder, and he pulls them into his arms for… they’ve lost count of how many times they’ve ended up there the last day or so, they realise with detached surprise.

Eventually they calm down enough to try to explain what happened.

“There – there was this wooden – thing”, they say with a shudder. “It talked. And smiled, except it was p-painted.” Marius’ expression immediately brightens.

“Oh, you’ve met the Toy Soldier, then.”

“That’s the Toy Soldier?! I’ve heard you mention… it, but I thought it was just a nickname or something.” Then, as dry as they can manage: “Like your ‘doctor’.” Marius audibly exhales, but hurries to put on an offended scowl.

“Hey! Don’t insult my competence! And no, no nickname, just calling it like it is. Don’t worry about it, I’ll just order it to leave you alone.”

“… right.”

Lyf tries to lose themselves in the more familiar back-and-forth from the prison years, and for a few minutes, it works. At any rate, it smooths out a worried little wrinkle they had barely noticed between Marius’ eyebrows, but they have to reach deep for every sarcastic, deadpan quip they throw at him. Far too soon, they are exhausted again, despite not being awake for more than an hour or two. The banter tapers out, and Lyf sits staring at their hands.

“What am I to you?” they ask, interrupting some tangent Marius went off on. They have no idea what he’s talking about, maybe something about violins? They feel him tense up, and the air is suddenly heavy around them. “Why do you care? Am I just some… pet? A distraction, a project to amuse yourself with, and discarded when you get bored?”

“No! Well, I mean… yes. Pestering you in prison was definitely a fun way to pass the time, to see how much time it’d take for you to come back. … it got really boring when it went several years between your visits.” He pouts theatrically, and Lyf almost lets it go.

Their visits to the prison had been irregular, but every once in a while, there had been a case or piece of technology that it somehow got around that the prisoners could help with. And for some reason, their superiors had got the impression that Lyf was the one who obtained the best results, and therefore kept sending them down there. They had shouted and ranted, and once even threw their boss’ ashtray through a window, but as soon as their suspension period was up, they were still the one sent down to negotiate for assistance. Apparently the prisoners refused to talk to anyone else.

“And now? Why did you save me, Marius?”

“I – oh, fuck it, I’ll tell you.” He jumps up, suddenly holding his violin. “We’re like whiskey laced with g–“

Lyf throws a pillow at him. It dislodges the bow from the strings and the tip almost pokes his eye out. Marius swears loudly, and Lyf stares in fascination as the eye heals within seconds, but the conversation is thoroughly derailed.

*

They’re cooking dinner for the whole crew when Lyf suddenly goes still, staring at something in front of them. Their breaths are coming in quick, panicked gasps before they suddenly double over at the sink. Marius drops the ladle he’s stirring the stew with and crosses the short distance to where Lyf is standing with the back of their wrist pressed tight over their mouth. The dark red space mushrooms on the cutting board are stained with iridescent droplets.

“Lyf, what’s wrong?” He takes the trembling hand they hold out to him and examines it. There is a tiny cut on their index finger, oozing a thin trickle of rainbow blood, but it’s already healing, the tiny rainbows zapping and flicking over the cut. Lyf keeps their face turned the other way as they straighten up.

“I feel it all the time, inside me”, they mumble. They flex their hand, the wound gone as if it had never existed. “What am I even?”

They sniffle, and Marius resists the urge to pull them close. The past week has possibly been the weirdest in his life, and that is saying something. Lyf has been doing their best to cope with their new situation, with varying degrees of success, while Marius feels like he is tying himself into knots trying to both take care of them and give them space, neither of which comes naturally to him.

The nightmares are a constant source of trouble, and neither of them sleep much, something that is only exacerbated by the need to always keep the lights on. Once, Marius forgot and got half an hour of blissful sleep in complete darkness before Lyf woke in a screaming panic, glowing like an eldritch torch. It took hours to calm them down again, and the neither of them have repeated the mistake.

“Whatever you are, it can’t be any weirder than the rest of us”, he tries, going for comforting solidarity. Apparently something in the effect is lacking, because the look Lyf gives him drips with scepticism. But they sigh and appear to clamp down on their emotions, instead taking in the ruin of the space mushrooms.

“Oh, fuck. I think we’ll have to throw those away.” They tip them into the trash with a mournful glare. “I’ll have to apologise to the Toy Soldier, it spent hours collecting them. I’m afraid it keeps finding me terribly rude.”

“Eh, don’t worry about it. I don’t think it minds.” Marius shrugs, but Lyf shakes their head.

“Oh, it will say it’s Not A Problem, Old Sport, but I swear inside it’s already planning retaliation.”

“… you know, maybe you should apologise, yeah. Maybe even make it tea.”

“I will, yes. Come to think of it, how can something made of wood and clockwork actually eat and drink? I mean, I know it does, but…”

Marius gently takes their face between his hands before his brain catches up with his muscles.

“Lyfrassir? Some things are really best not to ask.” Then he pulls back like he’s been burned, while Lyf stares at him, looking slightly stunned. Marius quickly turns back to the stew to hide how hard he’s blushing, and shoves his metal hand deep into his pocket to keep from breaking the ladle in two.

*

Lyf is aimlessly wandering the ship, trying to find new parts of it to explore. They pass a lot of time that way; have done for the last several days, in fact. To walk, to keep moving, deliberately getting lost before spending the next few hours trying to find their way back, is the only thing that marginally quietens the endless jumble of images and emotions coursing through them. They’re still trying wrap their head around the fact that everything they’ve ever known is gone, and that they are the only living – undying – witness and reminder that it ever existed at all.

Suddenly pounding footsteps disrupt the humming silence, and a few seconds later Jonny and Tim come barrelling down the corridor, barely giving Lyf time to flatten themselves against the wall to avoid being trampled. In their hands, they are holding brightly coloured… water guns? Before disappearing around the next corner, Tim turns and shoots a wet spray across the corridor, fine droplets of cold water raining down all over Lyf. At the same moment, more running footsteps are nearing, this time accompanied by an intense gust of heat: Ashes is running towards them at full speed, wielding a pair of one-handed flamethrowers spewing fire in front of them.

“Hi, Lyf!” they shout as they pass. Lyf waves feebly at them, but they’re already gone, yelling something to their prey. Distantly, they hear Jonny and Tim’s excited screams as Ashes catches up with them. Lyf swallows and sets off in the other direction, their legs trembling.

Brian the Drumbot is sitting in the pilot’s seat, fiddling with the Aurora’s controls as Lyf stops, hesitating in the door to the bridge. Marius tried to explain Brian’s two settings to them a few days ago, but they’re still not quite sure they understand how it works. All they know is that the robot (who apparently has his human heart hidden within, something they find both intriguing and disturbing, as much else on this ship) is sometimes very kind, and sometimes downright terrifying. They try to gauge which mode he’s on right now before they disturb him, but trying to hide from his… robot senses, or whatever they are, proves futile.

“You can come in, Lyfrassir. I’d appreciate the company”, he says, his voice low and calm. Probably on nice mode, then, Lyf thinks, letting out the breath they were holding. They curl up in the copilot’s chair, tucking their knees under their chin. Outside the universe stretches on endlessly; the stars only distant pinpricks of light. Brian gestures at the window. “Tomorrow we should pass within sight of the spiderweb nebula. I could tell you when we’re close if you want to see it.”

“Oh. Yes, please do. I’ve… never really been out in space before.” They sit in companionable silence for a while. Brian keeps poking the buttons in front on him, and Lyf begins to relax. When Brian is like this, he’s good company – much quieter than the rest of them, and not nearly as violent. Lyf shudders. They still aren’t used to the casual way the crew use lethal violence on each other, as if a bullet in the head is nothing more than a friendly punch in the arm. While Marius had told them about his immortality already on their first night together (they feel their face go bright red at the memory, and hope against hope that Brian won’t see), they had still only half believed him from the way he, la Cognizi, and Alexandria did not appear to age.

That doubt was quickly dispelled on the Aurora, where a full 24 hour cycle is rare to go by without a friendly murder or three, an experiment gone wrong – or some strange lethal game, they think, remembering the flamethrowers. They can’t imagine ever being able to take dying in stride the way they do, even if they know they will revive again. Grimacing, they recall their stupid overreaction to cutting their finger two days ago. Before th- before , they barely would have noticed a cut like that! They’d fully expected Marius to scoff at them for it, but instead he was… kind. And afterwards, he’d touched their face as they joked about the Toy Soldier.

Lyf clenches their hands to stop them from going to their cheeks, trying to recreate how his touch felt. Because that is another weird thing: Marius has stopped flirting with them completely, and it bothers them far more than it should, especially considering the circumstances. But it does bother them, because while his obnoxious flirtations were an endless annoyance that used to drive them mad, it was also such an intrinsic part of him . After an interview, they used to leave the prison fuming and flustered, so angry at the sheer nerve of him they could hardly think straight! Usually those days ended with a few stiff drinks and hours of quiet seething. And if they sometimes had slipped a hand between their legs and got themselves off with the sound of his voice in their head and the memory his touch on their skin… well, that was their business and no one else’s! They always had to bury their face deep in the pillow against the shame of lusting after their prisoner, and afterwards they were always grumpy and dreading the next time they’d be sent down to the cells more than usual. And always Marius was there, with some new flirtatious scheme concocted to rile them up.

But now? Now he’s just… stopped, and Lyf has no idea what to do with this development. They try out the old, familiar thought to themselves: I hate Marius von Raum. I hate his fucking guts, the lying, scheming pirate who brought me onto his ship without my leave, Marius von fucking Raum who… Marius who holds them when they wake crying from a nightmare, Marius who genuinely seems to enjoy their company, laughs at their jokes and smiles a strange, soft smile when they’re particularly sarcastic but think they can’t see it. Marius who only touches them as comfort, and immediately removed his hands the only time he slipped.

They sigh. He never touched them in prison either, not least because they would have knocked him out if he had, yet it feels strange that he avoids it now. Absentmindedly, they rub their cheek where his metal hand rested, the ache to feel it again sitting heavy in their chest.

*

The bars of the cell are cold against Marius’ flesh hand as he grips them, leaning forward in anticipation. The footsteps are still a fair bit off, but oh, he doesn’t need to see to know it’s them… Lyfrassir Edda emerges from the shadows, their shirt already unbuttoned. Marius bares his teeth in a grin, and Lyf does not disappoint. They grab a fistful of his shirt and yank him closer to the bars, grinding their hips against him before drawing back to palm him through his clothes . Marius moans, and Lyf leans close.

“Turn around, von Raum”, they growl, and he does, trembling with lust. They pull him roughly against the bars, reaching around his waist to thrust a hand into his trousers. He grinds back against them as they start stroking him, cursing the bars in the way…

Marius thrusts at air and wakes with a gasp, disoriented and hot all over. The sheets are tangled around his sweaty limbs, and he’s achingly hard. His hand already halfway down his pyjama bottoms when he realises he’s not in the Midgardian prison, but on a cot in his own room on the Aurora – with Lyf for once sleeping calmly less than ten feet away, in his bed. He turns over to choke a groan in the pillow, his sleep-mussed thoughts trying to untangle the mess of Oh shit, I want them so badly and Fuck, I can’t disturb them when they’re actually sleeping and Bloody hell, I need to do something about this before I short-circuit, oh fuck, fuck, fuck –

After a minute of agonising contemplation, he creeps into the bathroom and turns on the shower. He hopes the sound won’t wake Lyf, as the images from the dream vividly replay themselves in front of his minds eye, this time without stopping.

When he returns, Lyf is awake. Did – fuck, did they hear him? He was trying so hard to be quiet! But no, because they only peer sleepily at him as he faceplants back onto the cot, his limbs soft and boneless.

“Sleep well?” they murmur, their voice rough with sleep, and that is too much for Marius right now. Stumbling as his knees buckle, he flees the room to wander the ship until he can control the impulse to cross the room and crawl under the covers where Lyf is lying, dishevelled, soft and sleep-warm, unfairly attractive for someone who evidently drools in their sleep. He swears and yanks a hoodie off the hook by the door before slamming the door behind him.

The metal floor is cold against his bare feet, and he tries to concentrate on that. By the time he reaches the kitchen, he’s shivering despite the hoodie and is firmly telling himself that what he wants is a cup of coffee, and not to stick his icy feet against Lyf’s belly just to hear their indignant squeal. To his dismay the kitchen isn’t empty, despite the early hour. Jonny is sitting at the counter, stirring a cup of tea with his gaze lost in its depths. He’s stinking like a brewery, but doesn’t actually look drunk, just tired.

“Morning”, Marius mutters. Jonny blinks at him.

“When the fuck did you get here?”

“Just now, don’t mind me.” Hoping that will be the end of it, he starts making enough coffee for everyone inclined to drink it. One of the first things he learnt on the Aurora was that while they may have a general No lethal violence in the kitchen rule, hogging the coffee machine will get you dragged into the hallway and shot. Possibly because their coffee maker is an ancient, slow-brewing thing that none of them ever have seriously considered replacing, he thinks with a wry smile. By now it’s almost as much a part of the inventory as they are.

“So what are you doing here at this unreasonable hour?” Jonny’s voice is low, but Marius jumps all the same. The coffee machine gurgles and groans as he leans against the sink.

“I could ask you the same.” He doesn’t really expect an answer, and isn’t disappointed. Jonny mutters something unintelligible and takes a sip of tea. Then he makes a face and shoves the cup away, tea splashing over the rim.

“Blegh, it’s gone cold.” He sighs and rubs at his eyes. Then he looks straight at Marius, who squirms under the scrutiny. “So what are you planning to do with them? We’re still like three years away from an actual proper planet, but there might be a space station or two we could drop them on.”

“Um.” Marius jabs a finger at the coffee pot to make it finish brewing faster, and promptly sticks the finger in his mouth when it’s burned. “F’ck.” He takes the finger out; the blister is already healing, but it still stings. “I don’t know, okay? I – I kind of want them to stay? If – ah, fuck it. I don’t know.” He pokes the coffee pot again, this time keeping his finger on the scorching glass. The pain still doesn’t drown out the weight of Jonny’s gaze on him.

“I get it”, he says, and Marius snorts.

“Do you? Mister ‘I have no feelings, the Doc took care of that’?” He almost expects Jonny to shoot him for that, or at least punch him, but he just shrugs.

“We’ve all – found people on our journeys, people who… stick with us. But we don’t keep our strays, Marius. They die. Horribly!” The grin he flashes is a valiant attempt, but doesn’t quite reach his eyes. The coffee machine gives a drawn-out death rattle and disgorges the last of the coffee into the pot. Marius keeps his eyes fixed on the black liquid as he pours himself a cup.

“Lyf won’t. They can’t.”

“Well, that’s still not our problem.” And with that, Jonny pushes his stool back with a terrible squeak of metal on metal and walks off, leaving Marius clutching a far too hot cup of coffee.

*

It’s the music that draws them. Of course they’ve seen pretty much the whole crew play an instrument at some point by now, and spontaneous singing is as much part of the pirates’ day-to-day life as the violence, but they’ve still never seen them play all together. They feel a twinge of guilt as they creep towards the door that’s open just a crack, where the music is leaking out. No one has invited them to listen, after all, and while at least half of the crew try very hard to give an impression of not caring about anything, Lyf knows they take their music very seriously.

The music stops, and Lyf freezes. Instead of song or a new instrument taking over, they hear – Fuck. It’s Jonny’s voice, but it imitates their own frighteningly well. Icy dread trickles down their spine as they listen to him speak of the Ratatosk’s black box, and the images they remember far too well.

“– a few seconds of Loki wandering the carriages, passengers staring at her in confusion. There's brief audio of Sigyn, talking with Thor about gaining access to something. A looped clip of a guard dragging Loki to Odin’s cabin. A static image of Thor and Sigyn standing outside the door to the engine room –“

They stumble backwards, hitting their elbow on the wall and almost falling over in their hurry to get away, get away, far away, somewhere, anywhere else – They run, the black box’s footage looping in their head, mixed with the increasingly desperate emergency messages their ship’s radio had kept picking up. Through it all their mind keeps weaving the nightmare images from their dreams, of squamous rainbow tentacles, devouring all they’ve ever loved… And I did nothing to save them. I didn’t even try, pounds in their head, over and over and over.

They run until they collapse in one of the observation decks, out of breath and clutching their side. They lean their face against the window; it’s cool against their heated brow. It hurts to try to swallow around the lump in their throat, and two shimmering tears escape to fall onto their lap. They press a trembling hand to the fortified glass. Outside, the void stretches out endlessly in every direction.

It’s maybe an hour, maybe two before they move again. They stand on trembling legs, back aching from sitting unmoving for so long, but their hands have stopped shaking. A decision is made, and it steadies them.

Marius is back in their room when they return. He’s happy, whistling as he puts his violin away. Band practice must have gone well, Lyf muses, their heart doing a double beat. They should ask about it, take an interest… or maybe just tell him how dashing he looks, smiling and looking every bit like the pirate he is. It makes Lyf’s throat close up again, for completely different reasons this time, and they want to tell him that, too. Would he blush? They open their mouth to try, but instead all that comes out is a choked:

“I want to leave.”

Marius’ smile falls. He finishes rosining his bow and puts it into the case, snapping it closed.

“Oh. Of course. You’re free to go wherever you wish as soon as we make landfall, you’re not our prisoner.” His lips quirk up at the corner, but to Lyf’s surprise the smile trembles. They shake their head.

“No. I – I mean I want to leave right now.”

“But we’re in deep – Oh. Oh, Lyf. Lyfrassir, you want to go Out.” He looks at them, and his eyes are so impossibly old and sad that they almost have to look away. They swallow and nod. “Oh, Lyf”, he says again, his mouth moving as to continue, but no words come.

“I don’t belong here anymore”, they whisper, sitting down on the bed. They reach out for his flesh hand, touching it lightly with their fingertips. “My place in the universe disappeared along with the Yggdrasil system, Marius, don’t you see that?”

“How does that make you any different from the rest of us?” He jerks his hand away. “Don’t you think ‘our places in the universe’ are gone since millennia, too?”

“It’s different because you’ve carved out your own place! Here on the Aurora, and in all the stories you stumble onto. Like in mine. You make your own places, but I have no interest in that. I just want it to be over.”

“But you’re immortal, too! As far as we know, you can’t die any more than the rest of us. You belong with us, you have a place here.”

“But I don’t, do I? Only you actually want me here, the others will be happy enough to finally be rid of me.”

“But you can’t die!” Marius’ voice cracks, and Lyf makes a little pained noise.

“I still have to try! Maybe I will just float among the stars forever, but that’s alright, too. It’s a fitting penance for not saving them.” They pick at their nails, unable to look at him. He’s quiet for a long time before he finally breaks the silence.

“Okay”, he says, his voice smaller than they’ve ever heard before.

They walk to the airlock in silence. There isn’t anything else to say, really, not with their errand. Marius keeps close to them, so close that their arms brush against each other. At last they arrive at their destination. Marius makes a motion as to hug them, but stops and lets him arms fall limply to his sides instead. Lyf’s heart clenches, and they wrap their arms around him, lightly at first, then as tight as they can when he returns the embrace.

They hold each other for a long time without speaking, Lyf resting their cheek on the top of Marius’ head, and Marius squishing his face into their collarbone. At last Lyf whispers:

“Thank you, Marius.”

Marius pulls back. It looks like he’s about to cry as he turns away from them and starts to punch in the code to the airlock. He only gets halfway before a gunshot rings out, and his skull explodes in a shower of blood and bone and brains.

Lyf tumbles backwards with a cry as his body crumples on the floor. They squeeze their eyes shut and tries to breathe as the clanging of heavy boots on metals comes nearer. When it stops just a few feet from them, they open their eyes to see Jonny standing over them, still holding his pistol. He’s breathing hard, like he’s been running.

“Wh-what d-did you do th-that for?!” they gasp, their stomach churning. Jonny grunts.

“Because he was about do something monumentally stupid, even for a dumbass like Marius.” He holsters the gun and clenches his hands into fists, but not before Lyf sees how they tremble.

“H-he was only doing what I asked him to!”

“Well, fuck that! I can’t let a member of my crew do something he’ll spend the rest of fucking eternity regretting and hating himself for. Can you imagine what spending forever with him would be like? ‘Cause when you’re one of us, you can blow your brains out a hundred thousand fucking times, and it still won’t help, because you just fucking come back and still have to live with the guilt!” He kicks Marius’ body, ignoring Lyf’s yelp. “Did you hear, baron? Not even you’re allowed to be this fucking stupid.”

Marius groans, and Lyf breathes a sigh of relief. By now they’ve seen him die at least a half dozen times, and it never ceases to be nerve wracking – what if it sticks this time? What if they just witnessed the time he doesn’t get back up? They bite their lip and crawl over to him, just as he sits up, clutching his head.

“Ow, fuck”, he mutters. Then he blinks, staring at Lyf. “You – you –” He falters and turns to Jonny. “What the fuck happened?” Jonny shrugs.

“The ship went nuts, started beeping and whirring and flashing every light in my room, and then lit a fucking disco trail for me to follow here.”

“… right.” Marius pats the wall, and Lyf looks around them in confusion. Suddenly they’re exhausted, barely able to hold their eyes open. They lurch to their feet, giving Marius a hand up before looking at Jonny.

“Am I – am I your hostage now?”

He leers at them.

“Yep, I guess so. Enjoy your stay, Mx Edda.” Then he flips them a mocking salute and saunters off, leaving both Marius and Lyf staring after him.

“Okay”, they say after a while. “Okay, that was – not how I expected this to go. Later, we are going to talk about this, and what the fuck just happened, but… but not right now. Can we go back? I want to sleep.”

Marius simply nods and grabs their hand, towing them back towards their room.

*

Jonny twitches in his sleep, reaching out for someone who isn’t there.

“Okay then. You can be a mysterious fucking cable-fucker if you want. When are you coming back?”

“Probably won’t.”

In the dream, he throws himself at her, trying to wrestle her into submission; he shoots her in the heart; chokes her with that ridiculously huge coat she wears… Anything to make her fucking stay, but all to no avail. In the end, she always leaves, just like she did in reality.

“Jonny? Jonny, um, are – are you okay?”

He fires the pistol before opening his eyes, and whoever it was touching his shoulder collapses with a yell. He opens his eyes to see Lyf slumped on the floor, clutching their thigh. It’s leaking rainbow blood all over the place, and Lyf looks like they might be sick.

“Fuck”, they mutter through gritted teeth. “Fuck, that hurts.” But as Jonny rubs the sleep out of his eyes, he can see the wound is already healing, those weird sparkly rainbows working hard to stitch the flesh back together.

“What are you doing here?” he asks, and they raise an eyebrow at him.

“What are you doing here?”

“The fuck does it look like? I’m sleeping. Was sleeping.”

“Yes, I can see that. What I meant was… why?” They wave around them, the corridor at the airlock bare except the mattress and blanket Jonny’s dragged there.

“Making sure no one does something idiotic that’s going to break our already inept ship’s doctor beyond repair. Which brings me back to the original question: is that what you’re doing?”

“… that wasn’t actually the original question. And no. I’m just… walking. I couldn’t sleep, and I didn’t want to wake Marius again.”

“The airlock’s not on any logical route to anywhere.”

“No. I heard someone – you, apparently – kicking and shouting and making all sorts of noise, so I went to check it out. Used to be a detective, you know.”

Jonny glares at them.

“Well, I fucking hate sleeping here. Makes me dream.”

“I could tell. What about?” They look perfectly innocent, and there is no way they’re aware of how Jonny’s heart skips a tick. He’s still holding his pistol, and his finger twitches on the trigger. Very deliberately, he puts it down next to him and sits up.

“That, Edda, is none of your business.”

“Fine.” They prod their thigh and appears to find it healed enough, because they pull themselves up to standing, braced against the wall. “You can go back to your room, you know. Get some proper sleep.” They try to take a step, but their leg folds under them and they end up back on the floor. “Shit.”

“Can I trust you’re not just saying that while planning to get Marius drunk and trick him to reveal the airlock code?”

“Yes. Pirate’s honour.” The grin is so quick Jonny’s almost convinced he’s imagined it, and it surprises him enough that he scoots a few feet to the side when they eye the mattress longingly. They crawl across the corridor and settle down beside him. “I won’t try to – leave again. Not like that. I’ve been made to understand there is some… baggage in that re-regard.” The final word is almost swallowed in a huge yawn. “I – I can’t walk yet. Can – can I –” They gesture awkwardly at the mattress, and Jonny shrugs. If that’s the price to pay to get out of this conversation, sure.

They lay down, and it doesn’t take long before the corridor’s silence is filled with soft snores. Healing must really take it out of them, Jonny muses, snagging a pillow to settle himself more comfortably against the wall. Around them, the Aurora is silent except for the low hum of her engines.

*

Marius wakes up, feeling unusually rested. He stretches, humming to himself. Lyf must’ve had a good night, since he can’t recall any instances of sobbing or panicked breathing. That’s good, he thinks, maybe it’s finally starting to get easier for them. They have seemed a bit more settled these past few days, hmm… He rolls over to see if they’re still asleep. He hopes they are, because while the chance to see them peacefully asleep is rare, it’s an incredibly cute sight. He mentally kicks himself for the thought, but the image lingers in his mind as he opens his eyes.

The bed is empty. The sheets are rumpled, but there is no Lyf there, with their hair spread all over their face. The bathroom is dark and quiet, too. He jerks upright, heart suddenly pounding. Where are they? Where can they have gone? He vaults out of bed and is still pulling on his shoes as the door clicks shut behind him. There is a perfectly good explanation for this , he tells himself as he races down the corridors.

“Tim! Have you seen Lyf?”

“Nope.” Tim barely looks up from the jam sandwich he’s making, and Marius keeps running. Brian shakes his head and offers to help him look, but Marius declines for the moment. His brain is still trying to convince him that most likely, nothing is actually wrong; it’s just that his heart and legs refuse to listen to logic.

Raphaella is hovering three feet in the air outside the door to her lab, tinkering with the vent above it. Marius skids to a halt beneath her.

“Hey, Raph, have you seen Lyf?”

“Not since yesterday”, she says without looking down. “Catch!” She throws him the wrench, and he catches it out of reflex. “Pass me the screwdriver?”

“Which one? Are you sure? I – I can’t find them.”

“The mid-sized star-shaped one. And yes, would I lie to you, Marius dear? Thank you.” She takes the screwdriver and continues to work. Marius heaves a frustrated sigh.

“Of course you would! Just – just tell me if you’ve got them s-strapped to your operating table or something, okay?”

“I most certainly do not.”

“Don’t try to deny you’re eyeing them like a – a juicy petri dish of eldritch goo!”

“Not trying to deny it. But no, Marius, I haven’t kidnapped your crush to run experiments on them. I do hope they will let me do proper examination sometime, but I have more urgent things to deal with.” She coughs. “Like the fact that the emergency pumps won’t clear the gas in there. Could you please leave me alone so I can try to fix it now?”

“Fine!” He stalks off, relieved that whatever has happened to Lyf, they aren’t being subjected to Raph in full mad scientist mode. That would probably be enough to send them smashing through the hull plating in their effort to get away, he thinks. Swallowing down his fear, he sets off towards the airlock. He needs to check the log at least, see if anyone has accessed it…

The scene that greets him when he turns the final corner is probably the last thing he could have imagined. Lyf is fast asleep, curled on their side on a mattress tucked against the wall. At the foot of it, Jonny leans half-sitting against the wall, to all appearances dozing as well. But when Marius clears his throat, he cracks an eye open.

“About bloody time you came to pick up your stray”, he grumbles. Then he kicks Lyf in the shin. “Hey, your boyfriend finally showed up, time to go.” They mumble something and stir, while Marius sputters.

“I’m – I’m not their boyfriend, just – what the – Jonny, that’s not – I –” He goes silent, the words suddenly stuck in his throat as Lyf rolls to their back and looks right at him. “Hi, Lyf.”

“Hi-i.” They yawn like a cat, their whole body arching, and Marius forgets how to breathe. They seem to mistake his expression for anger and make a rueful grimace. “I couldn’t sleep. I should have left a note, I’m sorry.”

“It’s – it’s fine.” His voice is choked, but Lyf relaxes. They reach for him, and he pulls them to their feet. “Breakfast?”

“Please.”

*

Marius kisses his way down their belly, and Lyf moans. His hands are digging into their hips, the metal fingers leaving a perfect set of five oval bruises; they know this, because this is as much memory as dream. He drags his tongue down the crease of their hip and Lyf arches into his touch, scratching their nails along his scalp.

“M-marius!” they gasp as his tongue dips lower, tasting them. Their eyes flicker open for a second, and they realise they aren’t in their old flat in Midgard, but in Marius’ room on the Aurora. Oh, they think, but then Marius twirls his tongue and all thought is driven from them.

Lyf sighs in their sleep, turning over to grind against their hand. They’ve had this dream countless times before, and they always wake trembling with aftershocks, lonely and empty and wanting . They whimper into the pillow and stroke themselves, already wet and ready…

Marius nips tiny, biting kisses along the inside of their thigh, and Lyf pulls at his hair, desperate for him inside them, his hot breath and clever tongue driving them mad… They caress his face, trying to pull him closer… He looks up , his lips slick with their wetness as he smiles roguishly at them and his eyes aren’t dark brown anymore but shine in all the colours of the rainbow and Lyf scrambles backwards as Marius raises his head because a glowing shining swirling liquid is dripping from his nose and his smile widens and squamous tentacles are pouring from his mouth and Lyf screams –

They bang their head on the wall as they shoot upright, still screaming and flailing wildly around them. They have no idea where they are, and the dream lingers around them, more real than the sweat-soaked sheets on the bed.

“Wha’s wrong, Lyf?” a muzzy voice mumbles, and they remember. The Aurora, Marius, I’m safe, I’m safe, I’m with Marius who hasn’t turned into a tentacle monster – The screaming dissolves into broken sobs as they choke on his name, and then he’s there, his arms as strong as ever as he wraps them into a sleepy embrace. “It’s okay, Lyf”, he murmurs as they melt into his chest. Barely awake as he is, they overbalance and sink onto the bed.

Marius is so warm and soft and close , with his face just half an inch from Lyf’s. His breath is warm on their face as he begins to drift off again. Before they have time to think about it, they’re kissing him through the tears; kissing him as if he’s the only source of oxygen left in the universe; kissing him as to try to make up for sixty years fighting to not even think of kissing him, and then he’s kissing them back. Lyf wraps themselves around him, desperate to feel all of him at once; they run a hand through his hair and feel him shudder.

“Lyf”, he mumbles when the kiss breaks for a second, “am I dreaming?” They want to laugh at him, but they can’t, not right now. Instead they sniffle a little as he wipes away a few stray tears with his flesh hand.

“No.” They place their hand over his and squeeze, and he doesn’t need any more encouragement than that to kiss them again. They find the hem of his t-shirt and push their hands under it, caressing his stomach and chest, his warmth soaking into them. Marius groans and crushes them closer, and they push him over onto his back to straddle his hips. They moan into his mouth when they feel him hard against them, and he whimpers as they reach down, pushing past his waistband to wrap their hand around him. He bucks into their touch once, twice, before abruptly grabbing their wrist. Lyf pulls back, frowning. “What’s wrong? Don’t you – don’t you want to?” He stares at them like they’ve gone mad.

“Do I – yes, I want to, fuck, I want you so badly it hurts sometimes! Do you, though?” He brushes a few stray strands of hair out of their face as they roll their eyes at him. “You were just kind of –” They grind down on him, and whatever he was trying to say dies in a stuttering gasp. “L-lyf! I – I just want you to be s-”

“Yes! I’m sure. Please shut up and fuck me?” They lean down to kiss Marius again. “I’m sure”, they breathe against his lips, and this time he doesn’t protest when they wriggle out of their pyjamas and help him get his out of the way. He grips their hips tight enough to leave bruises as they sink down on him.

It’s over quickly. Lyf is already worked up from the beginning of the dream, and Marius seems more than a little bit overwhelmed by their eagerness. It doesn’t take long before they’re clenching around him as he buries his face in their shoulder and comes with a choked cry. When they collapse on top of him, and his hands stroke softly up and down their back as he nuzzles their ear, it’s the first time they’ve felt fully grounded since they woke up on the Aurora.

*

They doze off again afterwards, not letting go for a moment. For a few hours Marius floats in that fuzzy space just between sleep and wakefulness, surfacing occasionally as Lyf snuffles in their sleep or shifts against him. Then the lights tone into daylight mode and he jerks awake, suddenly tense. Lyf rubs their face against his shoulder and blinks sleepily at him.

“Wha’?” they mumble, and he doesn’t even try to resist the urge to kiss the tip of their nose. He’s immediately gratified; the smile that spreads over their face makes his heart swell.

“I just remembered that the rest of the crew exists. They’re going to be insufferable when they find out about…” He waves at their tangled limbs.

“Oh.”

“Yep.” He rolls over to rest his head on their shoulder, and they lie in silence for a while. The questions are piling up so fast in Marius’ head that he has no idea where to begin, and Lyf seems content to slowly walk their fingers across his back, which is not in any way, shape or form conducive to coherent thought.

A loud rumble finally breaks the silence. Lyf looks slightly embarrassed, but since it’s a conversation opener that has nothing to do with relationships or emotions, Marius jumps at it.

“Should we go grab some breakfast?” Now that he thinks about it, he’s quite hungry too. Lyf looks sceptical, but they give in and nod when their stomach gives another rumble. Things become momentarily awkward when they finally have to disentangle their sticky bodies to clean up, and Marius hesitates for a moment before Lyf takes his hand and pull him to the shower.

Once clean and dressed, they set off for the kitchen. Marius itches to take Lyf’s hand again, but decides against it – he’s still quite confused about what led to the night’s events, and while it runs counter to every instinct in him, he needs to let Lyf take the lead in this. But when they do reach for his metal hand, something warm blooms inside him, at least until a sharp whistle breaks the peace around them.

The door to the common room is open, and when he cautiously peeks inside he sees that the whole crew is gathered there – something nearly unheard of at this time of morning. For a moment, there is absolute silence as he and Lyf stands in the doorway, hand in hand. Then a wild cheering fills the air, and to his horror coins and valuable trinkets begin to fly back and forth between his crewmates. He lets go of Lyf’s hand and steps inside, and renewed wave of hooting erupts.

“You ran a fucking betting pool, really!?”

“’Course we did. A lovely collaboration between Ivy and myself.” Ashes pats a jingling pocket. “It was always just a matter of time before both of you stopped being idiots.”

“I calculated the chance of you two getting over yourselves and finally fucking to 96.8%, so the only real question was when. I did however not have enough data to predict that.” Ivy’s smile is mischievous, and Marius’ mind fills with static. What can he even say to them?! Behind him, Lyf brush their fingers against his flesh hand.

“How did you know?” they ask, and Marius risks a glance at them. They’re flushed a bright red, but their voice is steadier than he’d have expected. Brian tips his hat at them.

“I’m afraid our esteemed starship tattled on you, and I took the liberty of informing the rest of the crew.”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake!” Marius glares at the ceiling while Lyf looks around them in confusion. A panel of differently coloured lamps blink a few times in rapid succession, and Lyf grabs a tighter hold of his hand. Marius levels his glare at Ashes instead. “Do we get a share in the winnings?”

“Nope, no way. This had nothing to do with you.”

“It was about us!”

“Yeah, exactly.” They dig for something in a different pocket, and draw out a huge cigar that they toss to Lyf. They catch it with a surprised yelp. “Welcome to the crew.”

Lyf goes absolutely still. Marius doesn’t dare to look behind him. Then they take a deep breath and squeeze his hand again.

“Thank you.”

Once again the crew starts cheering, and when it finally dies down, Jonny throws his hands in the air from where he’s dramatically flopped with his legs over the sofa’s backrest.

“Ugh, I guess they can stay then! A fucking cop on the Aurora, that’s one thing I’d never thought I’d see.” He appears to be thinking deeply for a moment before he brightens. “… which I guess is kind of a point in your favour, actually, for managing to surprise me in this day and age.”

“You’re welcome”, Lyf deadpans, and Marius draws them tight to his side, laughing.