Sunundra’s tale grew less succinct as time went on and events bled together, but Bill stayed sat on the bed with her, his grasp remaining on her paws, if less active. His claws had stopped their soothing circles once she admitted to taking her first life, settling into a firm grip ever since. Not a word left his mouth, but she was following his emotions through the bond, each shift influencing her own; she knew how he felt about every revelation and experience. He became distressed over the alien she retrieved her first terminal from, was reluctant to accept the necessity behind the use of explosives while on the way to the depot, and felt pained to hear the end of another human he had a positive opinion of.

The most conflicted reflections came from her recollection of what happened after. His eyes drifted to various points on her form, the locations of covered cuts and cauterized punctures burned into his memory from however long he spent painstakingly cleaning and sterilizing them. Occasionally, he would meet her gaze, then shift just slightly, staring at more damage on her face that had slipped her notice. By the time she got to how she had ‘distracted’ the logistics bay in order to use the elevators to reach him, he had adopted a muddled pit of both disgust and anger. She had only brushed over the recordings and the suicidal security member. Just knowing that both of their kin had been slaughtered in the name of ‘science’ was more than she wished to share, but it was something she felt required to tell him, if only to give context and justification for her actions.

The voices were never mentioned; she didn’t wish to burden him with specifics when even she was still unsure of what they were. He need not be told just how long his Sunshine had hung from the edge of sanity.

“…And then I approached your door. I found you and I…” Her voice faded as she glanced at the cardinal sin she had committed. Bill remained silent, processing the story with a clenched jaw and pursed lips. “Please, forgive me…”

He exhaled, his flare of annoyance stalling her words. His voice was low, yet it swam with a hesitation and distaste that flowed partially in her direction. “All of that, and you’re worried about biting me?”

She flinched, her heart pained at knowing he disapproved of so much of her journey—of what she needed to do to find him. “It is a sin to…”

“You hurt a lot of people. You killed someone… Probably more…” The discomfort in her paws grew as his grasp on them tightened, wisps of anger shadowing his face. Desperation threatened to swallow her whole, even the thought of being left behind or discarded by him destroying her piece by piece. She turned her paws over to hold his in return.

“They have secluded and experimented on our peoples—”

“—That doesn’t make it right,” he whispered, cutting her response off with only the slightest force. “I… I understand that what you think they’ve done is horrible—and it would be—but they had lives and families!”

Her eyes widened, the accusation striking more deeply than anything she had faced thus far. “T-think they’ve done?”

Bill let go of her paws, getting up to take a few steps away before pacing around the room, throwing his arms out in frustration. “You were…wacked out on drugs, Sunundra! Painkillers, stimulants, and God knows whatever else! You can't even remember how many you took, can you!? You were barely awake before you started taking more!”

She reached for him from the bed, unable to bring herself to get up and approach. She wasn’t Sunundra, not to him. She didn’t want him to call her that. She wanted to be his Sunshine. She wanted him to say the name with affection again, not with the loathing and abhorrence that she heard from her kind all this time. She didn’t want him to cast her aside too.

Yet none of it was voiced, shut down by trembling limbs and the vile acid crawling up her throat. He turned back to face her with a suffering rage on his face, the snarl abating when he saw the pathetic state she was in—how terrified she was, and how poorly she was concealing it.

“I…” His ire faltered, pushed down as sympathy and guilt rose. “You didn’t sleep. I don’t know about your species, but humans, at least, need it. Those tablets might keep you going, but it obviously just masked the damage being done. Attacking someone shouldn’t have been a solution! As soon as that happened, you became a threat to be dealt with—a dangerous person running freely… So, yeah, they would send security. You didn’t give them a choice.”

“T-they claimed you were—”

“—It was probably a clerical error!” he shouted, struggling to keep his volume reasonable. Sunundra just shrank further into herself, her world falling apart fragment by fragment. The cracks in the core echoed. “All it takes is someone to make a small mistake for that kind of thing, and that's assuming it wasn't some hallucination! Yes, I get you didn’t want to be alone anymore, but that was too far!”

“You…were gone for so long,” she squeaked out, bringing her knees to her chest and holding them tightly. “I waited for you. I waited so patiently. I wanted to be there when you returned. I wished to greet you, and speak to you again, and share in all the small stories you would recount upon your return… You never did, and then they told me you were… The text said… T-then the alien smelled of you, b-but it refused to tell me! It knew, yet remained silent, so I was forced to… I-if I didn’t, then I would never… We would never… I beg of you… Please, don’t…”

The male tightened a paw into a fist as her supplication became whispered and pathetic, the bond filling her with guilt and agony which amplified her own.

“It’s too late now,” he muttered, his voice cold and bitter. “The damage is done. We’ll be lucky if this doesn’t set the relations between Lilhuns and the Union right back to where it began. This is about more than you and me. What you think you saw while strung out on stimulants and whatever other drugs… I don’t know anymore, but it’s obviously part of a much deeper problem…”

The terror built up upon itself, towering higher and higher, each passing syllable threatening to be the one which sent it all crashing down upon her. She was hurting him. Her actions were causing his pain and conflict. He cared, but that only made what he needed to say that much harder. He felt her words were false, but were they? Had she been just hallucinating the whole time? Had the fragile string of sanity finally snapped, obscuring her vision under a veil which justified her decisions? Did the recordings not happen? Had she not been aided by Greg and the alien who improved her terminals? What of the voices, were they just the byproduct of a mind pushed too far for too long? Was she blinded this entire time, seeing only what would provide vindication through a lens of warped perceptions?

Was any of it real? Had she just needlessly maimed and killed, when asking to see her bond or telling them of the mistake might have sufficed?

“You need more help than I can give you, and…” His arms fell limp by his side, the human looking upon her pitifully before walking to the door of the bedroom. “And I guess we’ll try to get it… If you’re so different in an obvious way, then maybe there’s a condition that’s more subtle too, and maybe they can learn from it or treat it. Maybe they can fix whatever made it seem like a good idea to…do what you did.”

Stop him. He knows not of the danger. He beckons it.

But she couldn’t move anymore. Not after each and every one of his words gouged out the desecrated remains of her soul. It took every mote of effort she could muster just to keep breathing—to remain in the same world as her bond instead of embracing the Void which called to her. If all of it was just some twisted effect of restlessness, and she had only made it worse by fuelling her enervated form, then what had she left the base for? What did that mean for everything she had accomplished? Had she thrown away everything time and time again for nothing?

How fitting. Bill was throwing her away, just like everyone else did. Just like how she threw all chance of ever persevering enough to find a den. A mate. Kits. All of it, cast aside in vain hopes to be embraced, then having even that torn from her again and again. Each attempt at giving her heart to another leaving her with less to nurse and mend. Has she really become so desperate? Was there so little left that it would become bent and tainted so thoroughly?

She should have perished in the explosion. No, she should have just ended it when he left, before she knew that there wasn’t anything for her to live for. The future she wanted so badly? Gone. The acceptance which was so tauntingly close? No more, and any chance of it was thoroughly snuffed out through her actions. The bond she had silently begged for since her first prayer—the quiet cries to the Goddess for someone to love her? Sullied by her own careless touch, then stomped out of possibility by an overeager rampage. What reason was there to persist when the gift of the Mother had determined her unworthy of its blessing? Nothing. It was hopeless… She was hopeless.

The Void need not call for her any longer; there was nowhere left to go.

She barely flinched when the door slammed shut behind Bill. Her eyes listed vacantly, and her muscles weakly fetched the garments from the backpack, slowly donning them lest he be forced to gaze upon her bare, wretched form again. She was disgusting; she could feel it confirmed through the waning influence. His warmth bled from her core, tearing and eroding the walls of her heart as it dissipated through the gaping hole it once filled. A muffled bang was followed by Bill’s voice rumbling through the door, though she could only pick out the defeated and venomous inflections. All she wanted was to be his, yet this is what it entailed. This is the best she could do.

Soil. Ruin. Damage. Destroy.

Force a mark upon the unwilling, for that would be the only way she would ever lay claim to another. Slaughter countless innocents in a fabricated vendetta against events which were the product of a beleaguered psyche, because only then would she be a soul worthy of care. Develop and nurture affection for one who need not suffer it, for he might feel pity and accept it.

Her stomach ached as she adjusted the spare shirt and pants, absent motions pulling the odd terminal free and applying fresh blood to the fur he took the time to clean. Sullied, just like everything else she laid paw to. It didn’t matter now; there wasn’t much left for her anymore, regardless of what happened next. Either she would be eliminated on sight like a feral animal plaguing a city centre…or she would be imprisoned here, suffering the distance from her bond until each breath became too difficult to draw. She would fade into the eternal darkness, alone and abandoned once more.

…As it should be, she supposed.

The pale-furred female stared at the bloodied device, waking the screen and bringing up Bill’s file before committing as much as she could to memory. Notes and descriptions, records and citations. All of it was burned into her mind so that she might carry just a piece of him to hold onto when black took hold forevermore. For when her last shivering breath was drawn in a cell, or left through her cooling corpse. There was so much she wished to ask, yet would never get an answer to. So many fascinating facets, forever remaining a curiosity glimmering in her thoughts until even that light was extinguished. His kin would never be met, despite how much she yearned to be in their company—to feel his fondness for his loved ones herself, and learn all she could of them.

But it wasn't meant to be. She would die as she lived; alone, unwanted, and defective.

She donned the backpack and put what supplies she had laid on the bed into separate pockets. Perhaps if she surrendered peacefully, they might spare him the guilt of seeing her executed. Perhaps she need not hurt him more than she already had.

Bill’s voice leaked through the doorway, more direct and meek than she was used to. Terse answers were given to unknown questions, followed by confirmations. She made sure all of her possessions were accounted for. He was calling for them to take her away, and it would only be cruel to leave behind something which might remind him of her—of the mistake he made in befriending her. Plus, they would take whatever she owned; it would be akin to spitting on his kindness if she gave them reason to make a mess of this den. Of course, that included losing the terminals she had sacrificed so much of herself to keep… Or, the sacrifices she assumed were made…

Even the small comfort of her meagre achievements started coming into question, and those too might yet be stripped away as reality clashed with memory. In the end, it was of little consequence. Soon, she would be but a regret loitering within distant recollections…

As it should be…

- - - - -

File after file was opened and skimmed while she sat on the bed to wait for whatever was to come next. Anything that caught her attention joined the rest of that which she would take with her into the Void—a small comfort, if there was any to be had.

Her free paw flexed and relaxed as a consideration surfaced; it would be quicker to extinguish the flame herself, would it not? Perhaps more would remain with her if it was newly read. It would save the resources or ammunition of whomever was to come for her. She couldn’t be fixed anymore, so why waste time and effort when all could cease here and now? It would be rude to stain her bond’s bedding or floors, but the thought of fading without at least the remnants of his scent scared her more than where she was going. Her claws had been sharpened; it would be quick. Yet no matter how sound the reasoning, she delayed it, wishing to take even a little more with her when it was time.

The random files transferred off the navigational terminal were next, even if she doubted any of it would soothe the bitter tears, the looming dread, or the soft, choking sobs that she tried so hard to ignore.

Blueprints to strange devices were accompanied by only partial documentation for the production and usage—a product of her haste, it seemed. Assorted star charts led to unmarked areas, or perhaps they might have been classified locations. Nothing she could see would give her warmth in the endless cold. Nothing would ease the suffering.

Her claws dug into flesh above the arteries in her neck, coaxing out pinpricks of blood as the smallest part of her still searched the files fervently, a tingle in the back of her mind pressing for just one more delay. Another file, another video…something. But it was no use. All that remained was the constriction around her throat and the almost mocking tendrils of the Void welcoming back its prey. No document would rectify her sins. No recording would mend what she had shattered.

Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

Yet, then…she selected a particular file…

It was blurry from the crimson smearing across the display, but it was one of the countless experiments like those shown by the security officer. The only difference was that it didn’t simply cut to the end result, instead showing the full process of a human being brutally beaten while their bond tried to fight heavy bindings, screaming their other’s name as each blow and broken bone drew yet more fury from one unable to act. She paused playback with a renewed sense of horror, her claws retracting as they fell from her throat to rest by her side.

Bill was wrong; it wasn’t a lack of sleep or stimulant abuse. It was real. Just the admittance was enough for the static to return at full volume. The voices came once more, a perfect clarity resonating within her skull and the echoes merging with the wash of noise that threatened to corrode and abrade her from within.

Danger.

The lies. The sins. The threats… Bill had called them here, nescient of what he had brought upon them. They were coming. They knew she survived—a mistake they would not hesitate to correct. She knew too much, and it was possible that he outlined what she had told him, confirming that he too was a risk. They would kill him to eliminate that risk.

They are coming.

She needed to do something. He didn’t know what awaited him. She needed to protect him.

Flee.

She must take him away from the den as soon as possible. They had to go before it was too late.

Remove.

She would be required to enter combat, even if he wished otherwise. The file would convince him. He would understand why she had taken the actions she did; she just had to show him. But where should they go? Up? Up would lead them to the surface—escape. Where was the next elevator? Which way was it?

A soft knock carried throughout the accommodations just as she found the navigational terminal, the sound barely making it through the door of the room. She heard Bill taking a deep breath and muttering to himself as he walked over to answer it, oblivious to what awaited him on the other side.

No time. No escape.

The blood drained from her face until sensation was gone. She felt numb, only the crackling distortion in her ears and the strain of her razor-sharp focus remaining. One paw withdrew a charge from her bag, the other tossing a stimulant into her muzzle.

They will harm him.

The deafening crunch of the tablet against her teeth covered up the vicious growl building in her throat. They would not take him from her. Not again. If there wasn’t a way out, her explosives would make one. She rushed to put a paw on the bedroom door when her ear flicked forward at an almost imperceptible click of the exit’s lock being disengaged. The voices giggled and hissed.

She cracked the door open, peering through the small gap with slow breaths. Her pistol was apparently stored in a drawer out there, which meant she needed to repel them long enough to reach it. Preferably, Bill would direct her, but until he knew of the severity of the threat, she doubted he would listen. It didn’t matter; she would rather him safe and appalled than dead.

The rest of the new den looked much the same as the one they shared on the sixth level, save for more furnishings and a less clinical aesthetic. Colours were actually utilized in the decorations, reds and muted yellows chosen for accents on the dark browns of strange wood. Couches and other seating designed for fewer occupants were placed in a semicircle around a rectangular display, curious tables designating spaces to lay items on the ends of each. Lamps were diffused by patterned shades, pictures of alien vistas lined the walls, and some of Bill’s possessions were strewn haphazardly across the various chairs, his terminal opened atop a cushion. She spotted the door, only a sliver visible from the angle she had.

She also finally located her bond, the male’s paw turning the doorknob to allow entrance to whomever had come to take her. There wasn’t time to stop him. The exit opened inward slowly, the force of blood tearing through her veins sending a prickle across her flesh. An alien twice as tall as Bill hunched low to see within the comparatively tiny door frame, a mass of tentacles supporting its bulk instead of legs.

The human seemed surprised, but gestured for the being to enter, closing the door behind it while offering hollow thanks for coming all this way. Sunundra didn’t hear a response; the distorted screeching had grown too loud and muddled. Too warped and blended. It screamed at her to remove the threat.

She watched them speak, a presumed request to see the ‘ill one’ being met with a paw lazily waved in her direction and what might have been a brief overview of what happened. She saw a weapon being produced from the alien’s hidden holster before levelling it at Bill’s head, his expression contorting from guilt-ridden sadness to wide-eyed surprise. She saw all of it happen in the span of a breath that lasted eons, the bond slamming a droplet of terror deep into her damaged core. It cracked.

The shimmering rain of a fragile soul shattering like glass reverberated in the chamber that was her, a silent yet roaring inferno incinerating the hopeful beliefs she once held, leaving only a blackened husk where light had vanished. They didn’t see the fall of emotion from her face as an instinct deeper than conscious thought claimed her actions and extended her claws. They didn’t see her until it was far, far too late.

Rapid pats of pads on flooring drew the attention of the massive alien, its grotesque head turning to meet her merciless vacant eyes with its own. Details were lost on her, only a silhouette visible to the bloodlusting impulses. It tried to turn the weapon on her. It tried to backpedal on its numerous appendages. It tried to react when she used the mass of limbs as a springboard, her arm wound back and loaded for the kill. It tried many things to defend itself, the soft snap of its weapon sending a blur into the ceiling.

It tried and tried, yet it failed all the same. The wet splatter of claws piercing upward through its throat sent a shiver of malicious glee down her spine. This threat sought to harm her bond, and there was no greater reward than ending it by her own paw.

She rode the towering form as it fell, using the last moments before impact to straighten her legs against its form and tug her arm free, crouching to absorb the landing. It crashed with an annoyingly weak thump for its size, though such could also be a small blessing. The weapon it used wasn't worth considering, however; the item was purpose-made and lacked any obvious way to hold it with her paws. Unfortunate.

“Bill?” she asked evenly, her stare fixed on the wretched being that tried to take her bond and thus suffered the consequences. Her ear turned towards the door and the sound of footsteps just beyond it, a thrum of satisfaction fading at knowing her task was still incomplete. They were low on time. “Where is the pistol?”

He flinched, nervously watching her pull an explosive out from her bag. The demolitions expert left the corpse to rig a charge on the door, placing another farther away on the same wall. She spoke louder when he was still yet to respond.

“Bill.”

He finally looked away from the deceased. “W-what did you…? Why did they…?”

She bit back the sense of urgency and the barked orders which would come out with it. His terror fed into her, supplanting the steeled focus she was trying to maintain. A soft beep confirmed the arming of both charges, giving her enough peace of mind to approach him. The male’s gaze moved from her to the crumpled form on the floor, then to the weapon which had been mere fractions from delivering his demise. Each step she took was matched by his stumbled retreat, only repeating thrice before he bumped into the couch and had nowhere else to go. She slowly reached up with her unsoiled paw, gaining his attention while keeping her voice as soft as she could manage, pouring every bit of unwanted affection she had for him into her warning.

“They have come to put an end to their mistake, Bill. You know of their sin, thus you are a part of that task. They hold no remorse for the slaughter of the innocent, and will waste no opportunity to dispose of us. I shall provide proof of my claims later, but more are gathering outside. We must first survive, and I will not do it alone. Please, Bill. I need the pistol.”

His stare wandered shakily before eventually returning to the pale-furred female, though lacking any clarity. He was trembling, disoriented, and struggling to reject the truth she presented. “T-there’s more? They’re going to… Uh… I… O-okay? Oh, fuck. It's… W-where did I put it…?”

Her face dropped into a scowl. It was no use; his thoughts were tangled by fear and adrenaline. The unknown and unexpected had sent him into a reeling panic.

She pushed the reflection down, yet still her control started slipping, mirages of both him and herself bloodied and slain flickering amongst the edges of her vision. Her paws quivered, uncaring of how critical it was to remain calm when her bond was so distressed. It was too much happening too quickly. His mind stalled and sputtered, wary that even she might prove a danger to him, yet she felt the dulled pull of emotions far less wavering—the deepest depths of his heart echoing inside of her as well. It, too, was scared and confused, but it recognized her within the chaos of desperation.

It pleaded for the violence to stop, yet worried for what might happen if it didn’t. It echoed a newfound clarity and the reluctant realization that she might have been truthful—that there were far more unforgivable souls than the one which willingly risked life and limb to reunite with him… It lamented wordlessly, mourning what he had said of her, and what he might have brought upon them through his ignorance. Bill’s heart voiced what his mind could not, yet it did so through the bond she would gladly sacrifice everything to forever feel.

He was scared and lost, looking at her with half-uttered words stuttering out through hyperventilation. He couldn’t think, react, nor do anything but seek an anchor in the storm—a constant in a changing wasteland of desolate circumstance. No matter what he believed the truth to be, and regardless of how abhorrent he felt her actions, part of him wished to trust her. His heart told him that she would remain by his side, and silently begged for it to be true. It wanted them both to be safe again.

The sensation was foreign throughout her life, yet she recalled the wisps of it when he idly spoke of his past. ‘Safe’ was his den back on Earth. ‘Safe’ was kin. ‘Safe’ was what he promised for his kits. But there was no safety here, and the realization drew from a well of loneliness that he had worked so hard to hide. It brought forth deeper desires that he had starved so as not to burden those who relied upon him.

He yearned for the feeling of love and comfort that came from being near his den-pack, but he was too far away now, his decisions and assurances isolating him more than ever before. The closest thing he had to that solace was standing in front of him, even after he had dismissed her tale because it failed to match how he perceived the world.

In the brief moments they had as the enemy mustered in the hallway, his heart whispered how much it had missed her—how terrified and overjoyed he was to see her again. It passed along the shadows of restless moons fraught with worry for one who had claimed a place within him, and admitted to the hesitation to acknowledge how natural it felt to share in each other’s presence. It wanted to be forgiven for doubting her. It wanted to fix what he had damaged.

Sunundra knew that the fondness they shared had blurred at some point, the peaceful conversations and warming proximity crumbling the wall they both placed around their damaged souls. Yet, where he had recoiled in fear of feeling the pain of loss once more, she accepted it, gazing into his eyes with a wealth of affections surpassing her vow to never let it grow into something more. The slightest reflection of that fact within him as well was enough for her to give in.

Her lips pressed against his own in a moment of bliss. The trickle of euphoria multiplied and filled her to the brim in an instant, her chest light and her aches vanishing as she drowned herself in the pools of contentment. Never had her heart beat as fully as it did for him. Never had a scent been so addictive. Never had she known just how incomplete she was.

Bill stood stunned, a paw pressed against her shoulder to push her away, until the unexpected sensation wiped away the panic wracking his mind. A blank slate remained, quickly stained by her colours as she had been stained by his. The distancing intention faded, his touch softening to a tender caress that began memorizing how she felt against his skin—how his warmth bled into her, and how her own bled back. How her pulse raced for him, and how it would cease for him just as willingly. Cause and purpose. Drive and destruction. They were nothing more than two souls brought together through suffering. Him, a male tarnished by strife and hardship. Her, a female moulded by the divine to meet him, yet shunned for her mismatched creation.

She pulled away reluctantly, her dampened breaths and wanting eyes matching his own intoxicated expression. She burned to learn more of him, and she knew he burned as well.

“I—”

Her claw gently stopped his words, the slow shake of her head buying the moment she needed to compose herself. She spoke through light pants, struggling against the heated desire to continue. “The pistol.”

Bill blinked, a calmer awareness coming to bear. He gave a hurried nod before quickly scanning the room and focusing on her request. “Y-yeah. It’s…uh…there, I think. Top drawer.”

His gesture led to a cabinet resting against the far wall, where the weapon was thankfully present. She gripped it in her sullied paw while retrieving the navigational terminal from a pocket with the other. The map loaded fairly quickly, overlays filling the screen with what limited filters had been applied previously. What was sufficient for stealth would be of little assistance now; she had different needs since they knew of her survival. Tunnels, vents, access hatches, elevators—everything that would detail paths and interception points were activated. She walked back to her bond after finding the designation for the hangars on the second level, firmly putting it into his possession.

“Guide us. I will deal with them as needed.”

Bill looked down at the map, doubt marring his expression. “I can…try, but I’ve never—”

She couldn’t help it. He was worried, using her as a beacon to navigate the turbulent circumstance and willing to put his life in her paws. She grabbed him by the collar and stole his lips once more, just as the door was kicked in.

The shockwaves blew against her back, sundering both the doorway and the wall it was built in, the charges spreading death into the halls. A lick of flame brushed over her fur from how excessive the explosive would normally be, yet it was a symbol of everything she was willing to be for the missing piece she had finally found.

They parted as the silent voices swooned at the display of affection, then giggled at the sheer destruction the enemy had brought upon themselves. A glance was enough to confirm it; they had stacked up in the direction she suspected, putting the bulk of their reinforcements directly behind the second charge.

Nothing remained to stop them for now.

She brought her attention back to her bond. “Which way?”

Bill released his hitched breath, placing faith in the pale-furred female when the scene before him proved too much. “Which way…? Oh, r-right. Uh… We need to go…well, right, assuming we want the elevators.”

“Check the status of the freight elevators as well. We have limited time before more forces are sent, and it would be wise to plot multiple escape routes.”

He nodded, doing as requested to serve as a distraction while he quickly gathered some of his things.

Sunundra shrugged her bag off of one shoulder, grabbing the empty shells of explosives and hastily preparing them for actual use. They needed variety—wide-area denial, obscurement, lingering effects, subtle traps, and anything else she could make. Her claws hooked into the remaining string of firecrackers, only briefly pausing to look at them. It wasn’t for long, but it was enough.

She was kind, in his words, yet she stood before him, unbothered as she rendered foe to blood and mist. The worst part was how satisfying each death was becoming, every enemy she dispatched now filling her with a sickening pride.

Her paw clutched a few of the red-coloured items, clipping the fuse so that she had a single one in her grasp. She would hold onto what she once was, then return to it when what she had become was no longer required. She would be his Sunshine again, piercing through the dust and debris of her own making. The path forward would be rife with difficulty, but she could endure it for him. Even if it were to take years to fully mend the damage this place and her actions will cause, she would persist, waiting at the end of the process to hold and cherish.

“I got my stuff,” Bill announced anxiously, pointedly averting his gaze from the shrapnel left behind by the directional charges.

She finished her own preparations, stuffing the firecracker in her morbid pocket with the odd terminal so she would never lose it—his view fortunately obstructed by her bag. She secured it on her back again before reequipping the pistol uncomfortably within her paw.

The male drew a tense breath, his claws fidgeting with the map and a single-strap bag slung over his shoulder. “L-listen, Sunundra—”

“—Sunundra was abandoned by her den upon the steps of the church,” she countered quietly, staring at the ichor soaking into the fur of her arm. “Sunundra withered and decayed as her kin detested and distanced themselves, leaving only the Mother to care for her.”

He closed his mouth, hesitation and conflict showing through the pained expression. Her paw tightened into a crimson-stained fist, a sorrowful smile donned upon her muzzle.

“I will take whatever form you wish of me. I will be your bulwark or your claws, your comfort or your ire, your ally or…your mate… But please, do not call me that unless you wish no more of me as well. I pray it will never reach your tongue unless you decide it is what you truly desire, so that ‘Sunundra’ might finally answer the blackened Void which has beckoned her for so, so long. And if so, I beg of you to wait until I am sure you are safe, so that I might pass with that small solace.”

The male swallowed heavily, a deep suffering settling behind his rounded pupils, her grey and desaturated yellow fur reflecting within them. He gazed upon her injuries, each nascent scar a proof of her devotion, proudly worn and willingly endured. “That’s…”

“You need not answer. The burden of my decisions rests with myself. I only wished to make my intentions known.”

He looked away, uncertainty colouring his pursed lips. “...We’ll talk once we get out of here and figure out what’s going on.”

A warmer smile formed on her face, though she kept it to herself, giving an affirmative incline of her head and taking the responsibility of clearing the immediate area in the hallway. Luckily, there weren't any footsteps of approaching forces, nor distant cracks of kinetic gunfire. It was silent, only dead and shrapnel littering the passage. She motioned for him to follow, standing aside so that he wouldn’t need to see more than he was ready for. He still caught a glimpse of the charred wood, dusted concrete-like material, and disfigured forms, but the worst remained unknown to him. It was for the best.

“We’re taking the next right, then it’s straight for a while,” he reported, the unease shaking his voice, though he was quick to embrace a change in focus. “After that, it’s a lot of turns in opposite directions, depending on which elevator we go for.”

“Which is closest?”

“Public, but it’s hard to say if we’re better off that way.”

She huffed in mild annoyance. “Is there another path upwards?”

“No. The Union likes each floor to be self-sufficient to a degree, so they stick to elevators in order to maximize the amount of species that can get around first, then worry about shutdowns later. I guess designing stairs for twenty-nine unique anatomies costs too much time and effort.”

“Then, which do you suggest?”

The male slowed in his steps, looking up from the terminal and cycling a breath as he gazed in the presumed directions of their options. “Public. They don’t bother manually closing them unless something breaks. If they’re trying to…keep things quiet…then it should stay running for now.”

“Then that is what we will do.” She started on the path he dictated, pausing after only a few steps when he remained motionless. Her careful pace back to him was met with a remorseful glance that was quickly diverted. “Bill?”

“I should… I owe…” He inhaled deeply, unable to meet her worried gaze. “I wanted to…thank you…for saving me back there. I-I don’t know what’s going on, and I’ll probably have nightmares for a while, but…”

She shook her head, feeling his guilt and suppressed concern. “You need not give gratitude for the obvious. I have no purpose remaining but to draw breath until your own ceases.”

The reddening of his cheeks was as adorable as it was interesting, yet he stifled it by chewing on his cheek. “Still, Sunun— Sunshine. Thank you.”

A soft warmth built in her chest once more, full of comfort and welcome. It allowed her to bask in the radiance of his newly-lit embers. The longing might prove to be troublesome for him, yet it was there beneath the hesitation and fear. She was there, offering reassurance in times most stressful.

Bill cleared his throat, anxiously gesturing for them to get going while hiding the visual response to her honesty. Of course, she followed with the grip of her weapon digging into the pads of her paw, yet she would rather suffer a hundred times worse than part from him.

Be it slaughter or Void, joy or sorrow, it would all be for him.

As it should be.