A Measure of Sacrifice (8/8)
Title: A Measure of Sacrifice (8/8)
Authors: butterflyweb and rawthornewrites
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: GD/Top, BaeRi
Warnings: Character death, violence
Summary: Seunghyun passes out at 8:14, Seoul time. By the time he wakes, at 10:32, the fifty-six Allied Military outposts on Earth and eleven out of fifteen satellites in space have been blown to smithereens.
Author's Note: This is a follow up to A Measure of Salvation, however, if you prefer the ambiguity of that fic's ending, by all means, it can still stand alone. Banner made by the wonderful and talented atenais_pala.
Youngbae watches him from the other side of the burning pyre. They've lit a fire in Jiyong's flesh, primal chants sung around his body. It's a funeral fit for a king, with blood spilled and profound despair. He feels it all but holds his own back. He watches Seunghyun do the same, a silent pact between them - as long as one doesn't give in, neither will the other. As long as Seunghyun is strong, Youngbae will be strong. He won't let his human friend down.
At his side, Seungri shows no such restraint. He's tried, gods love him, but this isn't the return home he imagined. Jiyong should have been in the shuttle with him, kissing his neck as they watched Ahman grow wide and orange like a piece of fruit outside their viewscreens. He should have been here to ramble about traditions and rites he never quite forgot, not even in slavery.
His hand presses into Youngbae's, grip tight enough to bruise. He wishes that he had words to comfort him, but there are none. Jiyong is dead.
He didn't see it.
Gaze falling from the pyre, he forces his own grief back, trying to keep a tight hold on the mental blocks he'd thrown up in desperation. It's cowardly, but he can't take the weight of their despair. It'll bury him.
The whole thing has gone for ten days now. Almost since they landed to the sound of a thousand ships departing from Ahman, the smell of cordite thick in the air of the capital, has the procession unfolded. There have been whole tribes coming to pay their respects. There have been leaders and warriors and children who didn't know Jiyong but now know everything about him.
It's a strangely mythical event and it's all so pointless.
Youngbae drops his gaze to his hand in Seungri's. The Ahma's hair is all blonde-white now, the dye completely gone in honor of his fallen brethren. Jiyong would be happy to see that, he thinks, to see the change that has come over his world.
His eyes meet Seunghyun's through the smoke, the human's gaze heavy and so, so tired.
Youngbae swallows hard. You should get some rest, after, Seunghyun.
The human's lips flicker, a sad smile vanishing before it can be seen. A ghost of surprise. He shakes his head. They're too far for human speech, so the Nabu kind will have to do. Seunghyun's thoughts are a muffled mess of guilt and regret, anger boiling beneath the surface like magma threatening to erupt.
If I close my eyes, I'll just see him--see him fall and--I can't take that. Right now. I can't take that right now. Seunghyun tugs a hand through his hair.
I could make it easier, Youngbae replies gently, frustration at his own helplessness burning in his stomach. I can watch over your sleep, keep it dreamless.
He wants to help. He needs to.
Seunghyun glances up at him sharply. I don't want you in my head right now. The thought is not designed to hurt half as much as it does. Youngbae tries to keep that in mind as he reads it. As Seunghyun rises from his seat.
Words are exchanged between him and one of the Ahma tribal leaders. Youngbae stays out of Seunghyun's head. He doesn't listen in.
Seungri fills in the silence for him. "No one is allowed to leave until the fire has stopped burning. Seunghyun is breaking the rite."
Yes, he's good at that... Fingers press against Seungri's in reassurance. He'll be back, he just needs to rest.
Seungri turns his gaze to him, eyes glittering with sadness. "You'll stay here, right?"
Of course I will. I'm not going anywhere. He wouldn't leave him here alone. A smaller part of him says he wouldn't leave him, not ever, if he could. Youngbae doesn't contradict it. He almost thinks it sounds like Jiyong's voice, resonating from somewhere deep inside his soul.
Daesung materializes beside them, his pocket-version self running on batteries until they can get communications on Ahman up to speed again. "I wish history were a little more impartial. How is it possible there was a whole civilization here, alive and well, and none of us knew about it?"
Seungri's gaze slides to Daesung, the corner of his mouth quirking in a painful little smile.
"Everyone underestimates the Ahma. Including their own."
Hopefully none will make that mistake again. There is so much history carried within your people. It's time their world was their own again.
A weaker race would've crumbled. A more poisoned civilization would've collapsed under the strain of centuries of slavery, of the loss of of their world to colonizers and slave traders. The Ahma are neither. They are strong, and soon, Youngbae things, almost bitterly, they'll have their opportunity to show it.
It's strange to see humans and Ahmas mixing so freely, but the same fire burns within both peoples. They've been wronged and they thirst for revenge. He sees the tide of their combined rage rising like a storm. It frightens him.
Daesung heaves a sigh. "Seunghyun wants to talk to you. He's back on the ship." The only way he could know this is through the connection to the bomber that carried them here. They've kept the Nabu ships intact, too, using them for transport and defense, turning his people's weapons into their own tools.
I thought he was going to rest... Youngbae hates the hesitation in his voice, the sudden spike of unease.
A shrug, something in the holo's features easing as his gaze finds the pyre, and it catches Youngbae off-guard once again how real Daesung seems. Is.
"I'm just the messenger."
Youngbae presses his lips together, all too aware of Seungri at his side. Of the promise he just made him. He searches for his human friend with his mind, eyes closing on the glowing embers of what was once Jiyong. He feels them all, Ahma, human. Computer. They're all around him, all speaking loud without uttering a word. Some of them are scared, some are trying to piece together what they're seeing. A number of humans have never been this far away from their home planet.
He leaves them behind, his mind's eye finding the path to the ships that have made port on the south hill, on the edge of the city. It's close to where he sits now, the fire warming his skin. Seunghyun has not gone far.
Youngbae sees him on deck, his fingers slow over a Nabu console. I'm here, my friend. What do you need?
There's a hesitation, one that always comes when Seunghyun tries to think how to formulate thoughts as communication.
I need your help with something.
Anything, Youngbae thinks his way. He needs to do something, to repair the damage he allowed to take place while he shielded his mind. He needs to fix it somehow.
Seunghyun looks out onto the city, fires still burning where their bombs landed to drive out the traders and the colonists. I need to know the way to Nabu homeworld. Every enemy they have, every rivalry... I need to know how to destroy them.
His heartbeat catches in his chest.
Seunghyun... Words fail him, dread filling the spaces inbetween. Seunghyun, Nabatu did not do this. You can't punish an entire race for the actions of a dissident few.
Seunghyun's thoughts are loud, all of a sudden, strong enough to set off an avalanche. His word carries even more weight now that the General is gone. He's in charge. He rules over Earth and Ahman, if he'll think to ask them.
That's not what you said, he hisses, face an ugly grimace. You said anything.
Anything within reason, Seunghyun...I know you're hurting, I know it, but you can't do this. His chest tightens, throat closing around words he doesn't speak. My people did not condone this--
Your people didn't stop it! They did nothing and that makes them just as guilty. Seunghyun doesn't let him breathe, doesn't let him collect his reasons and his logic. This is war, Bae. There are no innocents. You're either with us or you're against us. Look into your crystal ball and tell me you don't see more bloodshed, tell me you don't see them coming back to kill us all. We've defied their expectations, proven that we can't be exterminated like damn cockroaches. His laugh is harsh against the muted chants of the burial rites. I've confirmed their prophecy, don't you see that? They'll come back to finish us off if we don't do it first.
He's wrong. In another twenty, fifty years, the Nabu will have learned from this. They won't be building an empire of steel and firepower. They won't be readying to take their revenge. Youngbae tries to project the thought, to make it real and convincing only to have it reflected back at him like a parried hit.
They've killed Jiyong. Tell me that's something I should forgive. Tell me you would be merciful if Seungri had died instead.
He can still feel the Ahma's hand in his own, warm palm pressed to his own. Youngbae swallows hard, the edges of their grief still sharp, enough to cut with, and that's exactly what Seunghyun plans to do.
I did everything I could, everything I could think of to save your world. You can't...you can't ask me to help you destroy my own for your revenge.
Seunghyun is pain, rivers of it flowing out of him until they're all drowning in his shared grief. He feeds his own remorse with loneliness. I'm not asking. You'll tell me. You'll look into the future and you'll see I'm right. You'll see their armies staring back at you. Maybe next time I'll be the one to die, maybe Seungri... Who knows. You helped me start this, Bae, now help me end it.
He can't listen to anymore, breaking the connection between their minds like a cut thread, his own rapid breathing loud in his ears. Daesung has gone, Seungri's wide and worried eyes in his place.
"Youngbae?"
I'm...I'm alright. It's as black a lie as he's ever told, but Seungri has been through enough. He stands at the funeral of one of his brethren, of a lover and a friend and if there's anything Youngbae wants, it's to protect him from one more blow.
I'm just tired. Such a distant connection is exhausting.
"I'm here," Seungri murmurs, quiet and relieved. "I'll take care of you." His fingers brush through Youngbae's hair, attempting to soothe in the traditional, Ahma way - by touching, feeling for the hurt. "I've always wanted to take care of you," he amends the confession, "ever since you put that monster in the airlock."
He doesn't get a name. Youngbae can't bring himself to mind. After all, horrible beings who would chain up and hurt others don't deserve names or excuses. He recalls the Ahma's shamed eyes when he joined the crew as a paying passenger. It had been mere days before he felt Seunghyun's presence, before this whole mess began. Seungri had been naked and angry, like a feral child recently pried out of the jungle. Youngbae had felt everything he felt and for two nights, there was no sleep.
He's not sure he can sleep now, with the blood of one man on his hands and the genocide of his people looming on the horizon.
Seungri's palm is cool on his cheek. Youngbae closes his eyes, relaxing ever so slightly into the touch.
I trust you more than anyone. You know that, right? Not for the first time, he's grateful for the privacy his way of communication affords them. Important things stay between the people they're meant to.
"I know." He lays his head on Youngbae's knee like a puppy, one with claws and a clever, ruthless mind. "That's why I think you should look. In here," his fingers tap his temple. "You were gone a long time. I can help you remember."
Youngbae hesitates, brushing his fingers through soft white hair, overly gentle. Afraid to push his luck with their intimacy. Are you sure?
Seungri nods, meeting his gaze unflinchingly. "Please. I want you to remember."
There's certainty in his voice and in the way he relaxes, mind opening like a flower under Youngbae's gaze. He waits for it, counts the petals and the leaves around it, counts the time it takes him to enter into it as their foreheads press together. Seungri is all around him, young and loud, tricking his way from planet to planet. He's naked on the floor of a ship, smiling at cartoons Daesung plays for him on the radar screen. He's holding a gun to Jiyong's head one minute and kissing him the next. He's crying. He's laughing.
Youngbae delves into the length of the stem, gentle because he doesn't want to frighten his friend. Gentle because the Nabu are not a cruel species. They're misguided. Just like he was when he lied to Seunghyun. Suddenly, he remembers the fallout. He sees through Seungri's eyes as they brought the human back to the ship. Jiyong attacked him with fists because he didn't let Seunghyun go quickly enough.
He sees himself retreat to his room. Then footsteps down a dark and narrow corridor, a knock on the door and... pleading. Resignation. His determination that it was all over. He hears the apologies as though they were muttered into his own head.
Seungri's jaw, tight, his eyes brazen with denial. Always a fighter, always determined to hammer the world around him into the shape it should be. He feels the brush of his own fingers against his cheek, as keenly as Seungri felt it, the sob that caught in the Ahma's throat. The way he pushed away from the wall, fingers catching at his shirt, and brought their mouths together with a near bruising force.
Oh, he thinks, feeling the heat of the kiss. Oh, because he forgot this, impossible as it seems now, every sense flooded with pleasure and need. He had bent over him, against the wall, Seungri's hands scratching at the metal. He had tried to speak, murmuring words without sound. It had been a nonsensical effort, born out of despair.
And when he came, he remembers Seungri crying for him. He remembers everything.
He's careful as he withdraws, so careful to leave everything undisturbed, slipping away until he's in the moment again, Seungri's dark eyes meeting his own.
Smoke rises behind them, soft against the backdrop of a freed world, and between them, he thinks as he kisses him, between them there's still hope.
to be continued
Authors: butterflyweb and rawthornewrites
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: GD/Top, BaeRi
Warnings: Character death, violence
Summary: Seunghyun passes out at 8:14, Seoul time. By the time he wakes, at 10:32, the fifty-six Allied Military outposts on Earth and eleven out of fifteen satellites in space have been blown to smithereens.
Author's Note: This is a follow up to A Measure of Salvation, however, if you prefer the ambiguity of that fic's ending, by all means, it can still stand alone. Banner made by the wonderful and talented atenais_pala.
Youngbae watches him from the other side of the burning pyre. They've lit a fire in Jiyong's flesh, primal chants sung around his body. It's a funeral fit for a king, with blood spilled and profound despair. He feels it all but holds his own back. He watches Seunghyun do the same, a silent pact between them - as long as one doesn't give in, neither will the other. As long as Seunghyun is strong, Youngbae will be strong. He won't let his human friend down.
At his side, Seungri shows no such restraint. He's tried, gods love him, but this isn't the return home he imagined. Jiyong should have been in the shuttle with him, kissing his neck as they watched Ahman grow wide and orange like a piece of fruit outside their viewscreens. He should have been here to ramble about traditions and rites he never quite forgot, not even in slavery.
His hand presses into Youngbae's, grip tight enough to bruise. He wishes that he had words to comfort him, but there are none. Jiyong is dead.
He didn't see it.
Gaze falling from the pyre, he forces his own grief back, trying to keep a tight hold on the mental blocks he'd thrown up in desperation. It's cowardly, but he can't take the weight of their despair. It'll bury him.
The whole thing has gone for ten days now. Almost since they landed to the sound of a thousand ships departing from Ahman, the smell of cordite thick in the air of the capital, has the procession unfolded. There have been whole tribes coming to pay their respects. There have been leaders and warriors and children who didn't know Jiyong but now know everything about him.
It's a strangely mythical event and it's all so pointless.
Youngbae drops his gaze to his hand in Seungri's. The Ahma's hair is all blonde-white now, the dye completely gone in honor of his fallen brethren. Jiyong would be happy to see that, he thinks, to see the change that has come over his world.
His eyes meet Seunghyun's through the smoke, the human's gaze heavy and so, so tired.
Youngbae swallows hard. You should get some rest, after, Seunghyun.
The human's lips flicker, a sad smile vanishing before it can be seen. A ghost of surprise. He shakes his head. They're too far for human speech, so the Nabu kind will have to do. Seunghyun's thoughts are a muffled mess of guilt and regret, anger boiling beneath the surface like magma threatening to erupt.
If I close my eyes, I'll just see him--see him fall and--I can't take that. Right now. I can't take that right now. Seunghyun tugs a hand through his hair.
I could make it easier, Youngbae replies gently, frustration at his own helplessness burning in his stomach. I can watch over your sleep, keep it dreamless.
He wants to help. He needs to.
Seunghyun glances up at him sharply. I don't want you in my head right now. The thought is not designed to hurt half as much as it does. Youngbae tries to keep that in mind as he reads it. As Seunghyun rises from his seat.
Words are exchanged between him and one of the Ahma tribal leaders. Youngbae stays out of Seunghyun's head. He doesn't listen in.
Seungri fills in the silence for him. "No one is allowed to leave until the fire has stopped burning. Seunghyun is breaking the rite."
Yes, he's good at that... Fingers press against Seungri's in reassurance. He'll be back, he just needs to rest.
Seungri turns his gaze to him, eyes glittering with sadness. "You'll stay here, right?"
Of course I will. I'm not going anywhere. He wouldn't leave him here alone. A smaller part of him says he wouldn't leave him, not ever, if he could. Youngbae doesn't contradict it. He almost thinks it sounds like Jiyong's voice, resonating from somewhere deep inside his soul.
Daesung materializes beside them, his pocket-version self running on batteries until they can get communications on Ahman up to speed again. "I wish history were a little more impartial. How is it possible there was a whole civilization here, alive and well, and none of us knew about it?"
Seungri's gaze slides to Daesung, the corner of his mouth quirking in a painful little smile.
"Everyone underestimates the Ahma. Including their own."
Hopefully none will make that mistake again. There is so much history carried within your people. It's time their world was their own again.
A weaker race would've crumbled. A more poisoned civilization would've collapsed under the strain of centuries of slavery, of the loss of of their world to colonizers and slave traders. The Ahma are neither. They are strong, and soon, Youngbae things, almost bitterly, they'll have their opportunity to show it.
It's strange to see humans and Ahmas mixing so freely, but the same fire burns within both peoples. They've been wronged and they thirst for revenge. He sees the tide of their combined rage rising like a storm. It frightens him.
Daesung heaves a sigh. "Seunghyun wants to talk to you. He's back on the ship." The only way he could know this is through the connection to the bomber that carried them here. They've kept the Nabu ships intact, too, using them for transport and defense, turning his people's weapons into their own tools.
I thought he was going to rest... Youngbae hates the hesitation in his voice, the sudden spike of unease.
A shrug, something in the holo's features easing as his gaze finds the pyre, and it catches Youngbae off-guard once again how real Daesung seems. Is.
"I'm just the messenger."
Youngbae presses his lips together, all too aware of Seungri at his side. Of the promise he just made him. He searches for his human friend with his mind, eyes closing on the glowing embers of what was once Jiyong. He feels them all, Ahma, human. Computer. They're all around him, all speaking loud without uttering a word. Some of them are scared, some are trying to piece together what they're seeing. A number of humans have never been this far away from their home planet.
He leaves them behind, his mind's eye finding the path to the ships that have made port on the south hill, on the edge of the city. It's close to where he sits now, the fire warming his skin. Seunghyun has not gone far.
Youngbae sees him on deck, his fingers slow over a Nabu console. I'm here, my friend. What do you need?
There's a hesitation, one that always comes when Seunghyun tries to think how to formulate thoughts as communication.
I need your help with something.
Anything, Youngbae thinks his way. He needs to do something, to repair the damage he allowed to take place while he shielded his mind. He needs to fix it somehow.
Seunghyun looks out onto the city, fires still burning where their bombs landed to drive out the traders and the colonists. I need to know the way to Nabu homeworld. Every enemy they have, every rivalry... I need to know how to destroy them.
His heartbeat catches in his chest.
Seunghyun... Words fail him, dread filling the spaces inbetween. Seunghyun, Nabatu did not do this. You can't punish an entire race for the actions of a dissident few.
Seunghyun's thoughts are loud, all of a sudden, strong enough to set off an avalanche. His word carries even more weight now that the General is gone. He's in charge. He rules over Earth and Ahman, if he'll think to ask them.
That's not what you said, he hisses, face an ugly grimace. You said anything.
Anything within reason, Seunghyun...I know you're hurting, I know it, but you can't do this. His chest tightens, throat closing around words he doesn't speak. My people did not condone this--
Your people didn't stop it! They did nothing and that makes them just as guilty. Seunghyun doesn't let him breathe, doesn't let him collect his reasons and his logic. This is war, Bae. There are no innocents. You're either with us or you're against us. Look into your crystal ball and tell me you don't see more bloodshed, tell me you don't see them coming back to kill us all. We've defied their expectations, proven that we can't be exterminated like damn cockroaches. His laugh is harsh against the muted chants of the burial rites. I've confirmed their prophecy, don't you see that? They'll come back to finish us off if we don't do it first.
He's wrong. In another twenty, fifty years, the Nabu will have learned from this. They won't be building an empire of steel and firepower. They won't be readying to take their revenge. Youngbae tries to project the thought, to make it real and convincing only to have it reflected back at him like a parried hit.
They've killed Jiyong. Tell me that's something I should forgive. Tell me you would be merciful if Seungri had died instead.
He can still feel the Ahma's hand in his own, warm palm pressed to his own. Youngbae swallows hard, the edges of their grief still sharp, enough to cut with, and that's exactly what Seunghyun plans to do.
I did everything I could, everything I could think of to save your world. You can't...you can't ask me to help you destroy my own for your revenge.
Seunghyun is pain, rivers of it flowing out of him until they're all drowning in his shared grief. He feeds his own remorse with loneliness. I'm not asking. You'll tell me. You'll look into the future and you'll see I'm right. You'll see their armies staring back at you. Maybe next time I'll be the one to die, maybe Seungri... Who knows. You helped me start this, Bae, now help me end it.
He can't listen to anymore, breaking the connection between their minds like a cut thread, his own rapid breathing loud in his ears. Daesung has gone, Seungri's wide and worried eyes in his place.
"Youngbae?"
I'm...I'm alright. It's as black a lie as he's ever told, but Seungri has been through enough. He stands at the funeral of one of his brethren, of a lover and a friend and if there's anything Youngbae wants, it's to protect him from one more blow.
I'm just tired. Such a distant connection is exhausting.
"I'm here," Seungri murmurs, quiet and relieved. "I'll take care of you." His fingers brush through Youngbae's hair, attempting to soothe in the traditional, Ahma way - by touching, feeling for the hurt. "I've always wanted to take care of you," he amends the confession, "ever since you put that monster in the airlock."
He doesn't get a name. Youngbae can't bring himself to mind. After all, horrible beings who would chain up and hurt others don't deserve names or excuses. He recalls the Ahma's shamed eyes when he joined the crew as a paying passenger. It had been mere days before he felt Seunghyun's presence, before this whole mess began. Seungri had been naked and angry, like a feral child recently pried out of the jungle. Youngbae had felt everything he felt and for two nights, there was no sleep.
He's not sure he can sleep now, with the blood of one man on his hands and the genocide of his people looming on the horizon.
Seungri's palm is cool on his cheek. Youngbae closes his eyes, relaxing ever so slightly into the touch.
I trust you more than anyone. You know that, right? Not for the first time, he's grateful for the privacy his way of communication affords them. Important things stay between the people they're meant to.
"I know." He lays his head on Youngbae's knee like a puppy, one with claws and a clever, ruthless mind. "That's why I think you should look. In here," his fingers tap his temple. "You were gone a long time. I can help you remember."
Youngbae hesitates, brushing his fingers through soft white hair, overly gentle. Afraid to push his luck with their intimacy. Are you sure?
Seungri nods, meeting his gaze unflinchingly. "Please. I want you to remember."
There's certainty in his voice and in the way he relaxes, mind opening like a flower under Youngbae's gaze. He waits for it, counts the petals and the leaves around it, counts the time it takes him to enter into it as their foreheads press together. Seungri is all around him, young and loud, tricking his way from planet to planet. He's naked on the floor of a ship, smiling at cartoons Daesung plays for him on the radar screen. He's holding a gun to Jiyong's head one minute and kissing him the next. He's crying. He's laughing.
Youngbae delves into the length of the stem, gentle because he doesn't want to frighten his friend. Gentle because the Nabu are not a cruel species. They're misguided. Just like he was when he lied to Seunghyun. Suddenly, he remembers the fallout. He sees through Seungri's eyes as they brought the human back to the ship. Jiyong attacked him with fists because he didn't let Seunghyun go quickly enough.
He sees himself retreat to his room. Then footsteps down a dark and narrow corridor, a knock on the door and... pleading. Resignation. His determination that it was all over. He hears the apologies as though they were muttered into his own head.
Seungri's jaw, tight, his eyes brazen with denial. Always a fighter, always determined to hammer the world around him into the shape it should be. He feels the brush of his own fingers against his cheek, as keenly as Seungri felt it, the sob that caught in the Ahma's throat. The way he pushed away from the wall, fingers catching at his shirt, and brought their mouths together with a near bruising force.
Oh, he thinks, feeling the heat of the kiss. Oh, because he forgot this, impossible as it seems now, every sense flooded with pleasure and need. He had bent over him, against the wall, Seungri's hands scratching at the metal. He had tried to speak, murmuring words without sound. It had been a nonsensical effort, born out of despair.
And when he came, he remembers Seungri crying for him. He remembers everything.
He's careful as he withdraws, so careful to leave everything undisturbed, slipping away until he's in the moment again, Seungri's dark eyes meeting his own.
Smoke rises behind them, soft against the backdrop of a freed world, and between them, he thinks as he kisses him, between them there's still hope.
to be continued