After Earth Went Dark

Hello everyone. Here is the next and last chapter of After Earth Went Dark. Thank you all so much! Please check the Afterward for more.

Particular thanks to my supporters on Patreon, Astro, Dan, David, Jay, Julian, Mark, Mary, Night Hawk, and Richard. I couldn't have done it without you!

To keep in touch and learn more about what's coming next, contact me at purplejubilee17@gmail.com. Sign up for the mailing list if you like so you'll be informed whenever new chapters and stories get posted.

As always please think about donating to Nifty. They do great work and deserve your support.

Thank you for everything!

After Earth Went Dark: Part III Chapter 11

Tyr screamed incoherently as Elliot fell. He pointed both his guns at Ullr. Calmly, Ullr put one of his own guns to Elliot's head.

"I didn't want it to happen this way, Tyr." Ullr spoke with a hint of remorse. "I told you to lock him up."

"Bastard!" Tyr raged. Elliot could see tears forming in the corner of his eyes.

"It will make all of this much easier." Baldur spoke up, moving closer. "He could yet survive, as long as you do as you're told."

Forlornly, Tyr let his hands fall to his sides, looking at Elliot with desperate concern.

Elliot could take in what was happening, but it was like watching it happen to someone else. The shock was keeping most of the pain at bay, but there was still a powerful stinging in his stomach, and he could feel the blood between his fingers. He was beginning to feel dizzy.

"Why...?" Tyr demanded of Ullr.

Ullr looked away. "Aesir can't be stopped, Tyr. You of all people should know that. The New State wasn't playing along so they had to be removed."

Baldur laughed. "Ullr's idea actually." He commended. "Instead of sending Aesir to forcibly take out the New State, use your ragtag group to `liberate' it, then coopt from within. It keeps the people docile, believing they have their freedom. But of course, you've read all the books as well. Attachment must have made you slow." He cast a contemptuous glance in Elliot's direction.

"Kill me then." Tyr begged. "Kill me but save him. He's not part of this."

Elliot wanted to object but couldn't find his voice. Tyr seemed so far away.

"Who said anything about killing you?" Baldur gave a gloating chuckle. Quickly pulling out one of his own guns, he shot Tyr in the leg.

Crying out in pain, Tyr fell to the floor. Elliot gasped and tried to crawl forward, but his head swam dangerously.

"You're still too valuable, Tyr. Don't worry though, a few hundred years in the chronopods and this will all feel like a bad dream."

"No!" Tyr screamed, trying to crawl his way to Elliot.

"You'll forget about him in time." Baldur kicked Tyr in the ribs violently, stopping him from moving. Kneeling next to Tyr with a wicked grin, Baldur leaned down next to his ear. "After that, maybe we'll have you go kill Iduna too." Laughing at the look of desperation on Tyr's face, Baldur took the butt of his pistol and slammed it into Tyr's temple. The light left Tyr's eyes as he gave Elliot one final heartbroken look.

Baldur grunted as he hoisted Tyr up on one shoulder. "Christ, he's heavy." He complained to Ullr with a chuckle. "You know what to do when the others get here?" Ullr nodded in response. "Good. If they don't buy it, you'll have to kill them. Just get me enough time to get him out of here. The helicopter should be here soon."

Again, Ullr nodded, then looked back at Elliot who was doing his best to remain conscious. The grief and the rage were screaming to be let out, but he could hardly summon the energy to keep from slumping over.

"What about him?" Ullr asked.

Baldur looked back and shrugged. "He's seen too much. Heard too much. You'll have to kill him."

With a heavy sigh, Ullr nodded. "You should go. They'll be here soon."

Baldur grinned. "Well done old man. We'll be paid a fortune for this." Carrying Tyr over one shoulder, Baldur shut the door behind him, leaving Ullr and Elliot alone in the room.

"I suppose an apology wouldn't really cut it." Ullr lamented. "I never wanted it to go like this. For the record, I thought you and Tyr were good together." He looked down at Elliot and sighed, putting his guns away. He knelt next to the bleeding boy. "I don't know if you can still even understand me. I hope you're not in too much pain. I've killed hundreds of people, but... you didn't deserve it, Elliot. I'll carry that with me, for what it's worth."

Ullr stood up and walked to the door. "I've heard that bleeding out is a relatively peaceful way to go. I hope that's true."

Then, Elliot was alone, the body of his uncle behind him, Killian's body in the chair and, he thought, with a pool of his own blood slowly forming around him, he would be joining them soon. It was weird, the thought of dying. He had feared for his life before but now he was not afraid, he just felt regret. If he had stayed in that little office, then Tyr would have been able to fight back at least. Why was he so sweaty? Was dying always sweaty? He blinked his eyes. Strange visual anomalies were dancing across his eyes. Were there voices in the hall or was that his imagination?

A flashback hit him suddenly. Moving across the street toward the capitol building, climbing the stairs. Then suddenly, the explosions had begun. Elliot tripped and fell onto the body of the Carver on the stairs. Just narrowly, he missed the sharpened scrap metal on the lunatic's knee pads.

Sitting there for a moment, trying to process where the explosions had come from, Elliot had heard more gunfire. He knew it had to be the diversionary group. They were late but they had come through after all. A smile touched his face. But he still had work to do.

As he started to get to his feet, his eyes fell on something, and a thought occurred. But no. It was a very bad idea. And yet...

Desperate times called for extreme action and being prepared for the worst couldn't hurt. This was what Elliot told himself as he reached out and removed one of the syringes from the Carver's belt and tucked it into his own, under his shirt.

Elliot felt the prick in his arm almost before he realized he was back in the room. He didn't remember taking the vial from his belt, and he certainly didn't remember jabbing himself with it. No going back now, he pressed the plunger down slowly and watched the greenish-yellow fluid disappear into his vein.

It was warm. Pleasant at first, but then too warm. Burning. Itching. Almost instantly, Elliot felt his face flush. The dizziness seemed to be receding. With an animal grunt, Elliot shot to his feet. There was electricity buzzing through every part of him, too much to sit still. The room seemed to stretch as his pupils dilated. The sweat that had been cold and clammy now ran hot, soaking through his clothes.

Looking down at the wound in his stomach he found it more curious than frightening now. It did not hurt him, even if he poked at it with a finger. The bleeding was slowing as well.

Tyr. The name rocketed to the front of his mind, hitting him like a slap in the face. He had to do something. Baldur had taken him. Ullr was still here somewhere. Ullr... That name brought a very different feeling with it. Anger, hatred so black and seething that permeated every part of him. Elliot had never possessed such rage. His whole body shook with it, threatening to send him falling back to the ground.

He picked up Tyrs guns from the floor. There were definitely voices outside. His senses were exploding outward, picking up on sounds and smells he would have never noticed. Elliot didn't remember crossing the room, but he suddenly appeared at the door. It was open a crack. Ullr was standing outside talking to two people.

The pitch-dark need to cause pain, the thirst for revenge surged when Elliot laid eyes on the traitor. Quickly, casually, as though he had done so a hundred times, Elliott pushed his hand through the door, put the gun almost against Ullr's spine just above the hips, and fired twice.

Ullr dropped like a rock, head bouncing off the floor violently, issuing a weak cry of surprise.

"Elliot!" Someone yelled as Elliot pushed the door open the rest of the way.

Elliot ignored whoever it was. He stalked over to where Ullr lay, his arms probing slowly for his weapons.

"My legs!" Ullr cried out in shock, just beginning to realize what had happened. "What the fuck did you..."

That was all he got out. Elliot put the gun up to Ullr's head, enjoying the brief flash of fear in the Aesir warrior's eyes. Then he pulled the trigger.

"Jesus, Elliot! What are you doing!?" Someone shouted at him. "You're bleeding!"

Elliot's head and neck contorted at a frightening angle, still visibly shaking in rage as he looked at who had spoken. He recognized him but couldn't come up with a name for the reddish-brown haired boy that had confronted him. Raising one of his guns to point at the boy he thought about just shooting him for fun.

The boy took two steps back, putting his hands up in surrender. His companion, tall and dark haired, stepped in front of him. "What are you doing!?" The taller one demanded. "Ullr said you were dead!"

Grunting, Elliot finally lowered his weapon. Something inside him said that killing these two would not be as much fun as it seemed in the moment. Instead, he ignored them completely. Stomping past Ullr's corpse and heading for the stairs. The connection between the word `helicopter' and the roof of the building was made somewhere deep in his subconscious.

The two others were following him, calling out after him, but he could barely hear them. The stairwell did not continue up to the roof but there was a ladder in one corner with several warning signs next to it. Even if he had tried to read them, he would not have been able to make the letters stand still long enough to determine what they said.

Elliot ascended the ladder in a series of leaps. It led to a narrow catwalk that ran across the stairwell to a door on the other side. Inside the door was a long access hall going back the direction he had come from. He didn't know how, but he knew he was going the right direction. The tight hallway shifted and twisted around him as he sprinted through.

Angry voices screamed in his head, but he could not make out what they were saying. They pushed him onward though and stirred up the rage that was roiling within him. The words `roof access' brought him skidding to a halt. He could not actually read the words but somehow the serpentine shapes on the red background made sense to him.

With a scream of rage, Elliot kicked open the door and rushed out into the night. The cool air felt good on his burning skin and for a moment threatened to bring back his sanity. But the sticky slimy darkness that had been unleashed by whatever he had filled himself with clawed him back into its grasp almost instantly.

"How are you still alive?" A voice called out from behind him.

Baldur stood in the middle of the roof's most open area. He held a lit flare in his hand and another one already burned brightly on the ground. Off to one side was a slumped shape that send a brief shaft of emotion piercing into the black hate that encircled Elliot. It was Tyr.

With speed that should not have been possible, Elliot brought both his guns up to point at Baldur. The Aesir warrior had underestimated him and not expected his speed. It took him precious fractions of a second to pull his own weapon out and return fire, but by then Elliot had already pulled the triggers.

Elliot heard Baldur shout a curse as he dove to one side, leaving a trail of blood behind. A slight pinch in his arm caused Elliot to look down and see that he had in fact been shot again. Strange. Annoying. Enraging actually. His left arm dangled uselessly at his side.

"I don't much like killing kids." Baldur called out from behind the cover of a large vent fan. "Maybe just lie down and die for me?"

Heedless of his own mortality, Elliot was about to charge after the ugly man, leaving himself open to a hail of deadly gunfire. Suddenly though, the door banged open once more. The two that had followed Elliot pushed their way out onto the roof as well, weapons in hand.

Instinctively, and unsure why, Elliot pointed to where Baldur crouched in hiding. As the two looked though, Baldur emerged and fired on the intruders, forcing them to take cover behind the door. Elliot saw his chance and took two more shots at the Aesir. He was rewarded by another shout of surprise and anger and Baldur sank back into cover.

"You're quick for someone that's bleeding out." He shouted but was drowned out as the two hiding behind the door opened fire on his position.

Growling in anger, Elliot took two running steps forward but was surprised to see Baldur appear again with a gun pointed directly at him. Time slowed down as Elliot tried to bring his own weapon up, but the Aesir with years of experience had him calculated now. He moved the way Tyr did, as if every tiny action was planned out long before it came time for the motion.

Suddenly, Elliot felt himself thrown to one side as the taller of the two, Marcel, Elliot remembered his name, tackled him. The statuesque dancer shook with a soft cry as the bullet that would have dropped Elliot took him down instead.

Already with the amount of sweat and blood he was losing, Elliot could feel the effects of the drug beginning to wane. Panic tinged the edges of the fiery rage that had kept him on his feet. Marcel lay unmoving beside him. A puddle of blood seeped from an unseen wound.

Jay screamed and fired several times at Baldur, but his weapon gave the tell-tale click as his magazine was expended. Elliot struggled to get back to his feet but knew he was not fast enough.

Giving him a look of contempt and disappointment, Baldur aimed his gun once more. He snorted disdainfully, the pain from the wounds Elliot had given him fueling his fury. Elliot weakly grasped his pistol, determined to go down fighting.

Baldur's gun fired, but the shot soared high as an arm suddenly appeared around his neck. The muscular forearm bore the sigil of Aesir but with an angry scar running through the center of it. In center of the scar was the bold rune Tiwaz, symbol of Tyr, bravest of the gods.

"Son of... a... bitch..." Baldur grumbled as he fought against the arm restricting his airway. "Can't anyone just... stay down?" He brought his gun up to try and shoot behind him but Tyr's other hand caught his wrist. Instead then, Baldur twisted his hand dangerously close to his own face and shot at the arm holding his neck.

Tyr shouted and loosened his grip enough for Baldur to turn and face him. Elliot tried from where he lay to get a clear shot but Jay came leaping over the exhaust fan landing a punch square across Baldur's scarred face. Baldur screamed in rage, whipping Jay with the butt of his pistol and sending the boy sprawling.

With his good hand, Tyr took advantage and swung another punch that tumbled Baldur to the side. The two grappled desperately seeking the advantage. Elliot's vision was blurring again, and he could not take a shot without risking hitting Tyr as the two wrestled and rolled across the rooftop.

A loud thudding sound filled the air seeming to come from all directions. A dark shape with flashing lights materialized out of the darkness overhead. Elliot had never seen a helicopter in flight before, but he quickly put two and two together as a searchlight began probing the rooftop near Baldur's discarded flare.

Elliot didn't know what kind of reinforcements Baldur might have in the helicopter, but he knew that something needed to be done quickly before they spotted what was going on down on the roof. Tyr and Baldur now wrestled dangerously close to the probing light.

Baldur managed to pin Tyr down and punched him twice. He looked up and tried to shout something, but his voice was lost in the sound of the chopper. Elliot reached down to his belt. Baldur's back was to him. He had both hands on Tyr's throat now, trying to choke the life out of him.

In a final effort, Elliot pulled the knife from its sheath. Tyr's knife, given to him so long ago. Remembering every lesson he had ever had with Tyr, he tried to even out his breathing which was now coming in ragged gasps. He closed his eyes for a long second as he had seen Tyr do before, visualizing the throw. With the very last of his strength, Elliot cocked his arm and hurled the weapon.

With a thud, it stuck into Baldur's lower shoulder. The Aesir cried in shock as his hands instinctively clawed at his back. Suddenly, Tyr came up with Baldur's boot knife. With a roar, Tyr jammed the blade upward under Baldur's jaw, burying it all the way to the hilt.

Baldur's scream turned into a gurgle but then was cut short. The last thing Elliot saw before his vision faded away was the Aesir warrior toppling over, crashing to the ground with a final gasp.

This must be death. Elliot thought. It wasn't so bad really. He wasn't in pain at least. For some reason he had expected death to hurt. Instead it just felt like he was floating, listing slowly into nothingness. It was a little sad, he would have wanted to say goodbye. But maybe he and Tyr would find each other again someday, somehow.

"Clear!" Elliot felt pain again. A lot of it. He tried to scream but couldn't make any sound. Bright light blinded him for a brief moment before mercifully the darkness took him back once more.

Elliot dreamed about Tyr. And about his mother and sister. Uncle Mark, Jay, Ida, Marcel, and about his father. He dreamed about a time after all the pain and the killing. There was no New State, no Carvers, no Aesir. The sun rose and the sun set, and they lived their lives simply and happily. If he was dead, then this was surely heaven.

They had nothing to worry about, and they had each other. Tyr and the Vanir built houses, and they lived in them in the mountains. Safe, and away from everyone and everything. His mother and father had a house. Uncle Mark and Alice and baby Markus had a house. And of course, he and Tyr had a cabin all to themselves. It had a little pond in the back that Elliot would splash his feet in and scare the fish.

Kara planted a garden that bloomed beautifully into flowers in all colors. Markus grew and started walking and running. Elliot's mother and father had another baby. A little girl. All the while, Elliot lay with his head in the grass, smiling at Tyr who sat by his side. They spent all their days beside each other, gazing at the stars until the morning came, listening to the birds in the trees.

The birds were very loud. Elliot found himself wishing they would quiet down and let him sleep. With that thought, his paradise slowly began to dissolve around him. Frantically, Elliot tried to will it back into existence but the harder he tried the more quickly it faded. He watched the golden-tinted grass fall away into sudden blackness. Then his eyes opened.

The room he awoke in was dim and cloistered. A stark unwelcome contrast to the vast open fields and woods, and the beautiful fishpond of his dreams. The only light came from a slightly parted curtain on a small window on his left. The birds outside chattered loudly, oblivious to the fact they had torn him away for everything he had ever wanted. He could not even begin to fathom where he was. He was alive though. That was strange.

As though that realization alone brought sensation back to his body, Elliot felt intense pain shooting through him. His head swam as he tried to move. Neither his arms or his legs would obey his commands and panic washed over his mind. Slight relief followed when he realized that he still in fact had arms and legs but that they were restrained by leather straps. Fighting against them made the pain worse.

Elliot tried to cry out for someone, anyone, but all he could manage was a soft groan. He wanted Tyr to be there. It would make him feel better. Why wasn't Tyr there? It was not like him to leave his side when it could be avoided.

A horrible thought occurred. Was Tyr even still alive? He tried to sort out his fragmented memory. Finding Baldur and Uncle Mark... Uncle Mark... Elliot swallowed a lump in his throat as his eyes watered. Uncle Mark was dead. Then he had been shot. Elliot looked down at his midsection, but it was covered in a scratchy blueish blanket. That explained some of the pain that radiated from his abdomen.

Slowly piece by piece it came back to him. The Carver drug, killing Ullr, the battle on the roof. Marcel... Another pang of fear and sadness. Had Marcel survived? Surely Jay would not have let him slip away. Tyr had killed Baldur. Elliot remembered that. But the helicopter?

The door to his small room suddenly opened and Elliot flinched, causing pain to spike through every part of his body. He moaned weakly.

A woman standing in the doorway gasped as she saw him twisting on the bed against the restraints. She immediately turned and dashed away without closing the door. Elliot did not have the time or the energy to think on how strange the behavior was. A few moments later, an older man appeared, with the woman following him.

"I see you're awake." He remarked, approaching the bed. "We can up your morphine dose a little bit for the pain, but our stocks are limited."

Elliot couldn't form words. He simply moaned in response. The man took out a syringe and put it to a clear tube that hung at his bedside. Elliot had not noticed the tube at first, but now he saw that it ran from a bag hanging overhead to the vein on his arm.

"That should do it." The man gave him a flat smile.

"T... Tyr?" Elliot gasped weakly.

The older man frowned in confusion before his face cleared in understanding. "Your tall friend? `liberator of the capitol'?" He put the last part in air quotes. "He'll be back soon no doubt. Almost in as bad shape as you were but would not stay down. Between the two of you, you've taken a large dent out of the remaining medical supplies." The man Elliot assumed was a doctor had a slightly sarcastic air to his tone. "I hope it's worth it."

Elliot's heart lifted. Tyr was alive. After everything and against all odds they had survived... Then something the doctor said gave Elliot pause. "Only two?" He managed weakly. "Marcel?"

The doctor frowned and shook his head with a shrug. "I'm sorry, I only treated two. I wouldn't have had the supplies for another anyway."

Elliot remembered the way Marcel had fallen after taking the shot that was meant for him. He had fallen and had not moved. Elliot feared the worst but held out hope for his friend.

"I need..." Elliot rasped. "Find Tyr..." His throat was so dry. The nurse held a cup of water to his lips and Elliot drank greedily.

"No." The doctor corrected. "You need to stay here. You wouldn't make it four steps if you tried to get up now. You lost more blood than should be possible and that poison in your system took its toll as well. You've been out for almost four days."

Four days? Elliot could hardly believe it. What had happened in the city after the fight on the roof?

"My... arms... legs?" Elliot questioned, referring to the straps that held him down.

The doctor gave him a grave look and the nurse put a comforting hand on Elliot's shoulder. "As I said, the amount of whatever toxin was in your bloodstream did not just disappear. The drug combined with the massive blood loss I suspect has done some damage to your brain, possibly other organs as well."

Panic welled up inside Elliot. Damage to his brain? "What... do you mean?" Elliot forced out each word.

The doctor sighed. "Well, I don't have the equipment to determine the extent of the damage." He admitted. "The most prominent side effect so far has been intense seizures. Thus, the straps. They were coming every hour or so, but its diminished to one to two a day. They could clear up altogether or..." The doctor paused not wanting to finish. "Or not."

Elliot had not noticed he was crying until he felt a tear slide down his cheek. Was he even himself anymore? What had that Carver drug taken from him, and had the sacrifice been worth it? He did not want to talk anymore. Didn't want to hear any more terrible things. He was alive, but had he really survived?

"I want to... be alone..." Elliot mumbled, but accepted the cup of water again from the nurse before she and the doctor left him in the room.

No dreams of paradise awaited him when he drifted off this time. Just thick murky darkness that threatened to swallow him. There was a strange hunger that he felt that was alien and terrifying to him. He remembered the sound that Ullr made when his legs folded uselessly under him and it sickened him. Elliot craved the numbness of anger that he had felt at that moment. Any way to escape the feelings of what had happened, and what he had done. It seemed like there was only one way to bring back that comforting lack of human emotion.

Elliot awoke violently to the sound of his own voice screaming. Two people were on top of him, pressing on his arm and his chest. Blindly he struggled against them. Somehow his one arm was free of the restraint. His other limbs fought against the leather straps with every fiber of his being.

His head felt like it was being sawn in two and his screams were a mix of agony and rage at these two people keeping him down. Vaguely he recognized one of them but could not place him. As Elliot's blood-red tunnel vision swept the room his screams stopped short as though all his breath had suddenly gone.

Standing in the doorway, being held back by a woman half his size, was a tall figure of a man wearing a face Elliot knew well. One of his arms was in a sling and a crutch was under the other. His face bore a haunted look that showed how badly he wanted to rush past the small nurse keeping him at bay.

"Tyr..." Elliot mouthed as he began to cry. He did not even notice the doctor leave his post holding him in place and inject him quickly with something that made Elliot's vision fade away once more.

Two days later found Elliot still spending most of his time in the bed. Only one other episode had occurred since the pervious one and it had been comparably mild. At that time, the doctor had removed Elliot's restraints except for while he slept. His fits, the doctor explained, were always more severe while he was asleep.

The nurse made him get up and walk around his room several times throughout the day. The action of moving caused pain everywhere. His gunshot wounds radiated it all though him, and his head seemed to pound incessantly at the slightest movements.

Despite his improvements, Elliot had adamantly refused any visitors once he was cognizant enough to make that choice. He wanted to see Tyr. Desperately in fact. But he did not want Tyr to see him this way. The look he had seen on Tyr's face when he had awoken in the midst of his fit was too much to bear. It had been like Tyr was looking at some tragically broken thing.

In his darkest hours, Elliot felt the anger return. The hunger for that powerful serum that had made all of his problems vanish behind a wall of red. To his shame, he cursed out the helpful nurse on more than one occasion. The first time had been when he tried to stand on his own and collapsed to the floor in a painful heap. He had sworn at her, and at the doctor who wasn't even in the room. Demanding that they find him more of the substance or let him die.

He was too ashamed to even apologize for these outbursts. It wasn't him. It was someone he did not recognize. Someone he hated.

On the third day, Elliot heard commotion in the hall outside of the room. A door crashed open and he heard a voice speaking sternly.

"You cannot be back here." He recognized it as the nurse's voice.

"It's been days." Elliot recognized this voice too. "That is long enough." It was a voice that he heard in his dreams every night. Before Elliot could prepare himself emotionally or physically, the door to his room swung open.

Tyr stood in the doorway, his tall frame taking up most of the space. The nurse was hot on his heels insisting that he turn around. To Elliot's trained eye, Tyr's face was clearly etched with worry and grief. To the nurse however, he must have looked as cold as stone.

Elliot couldn't help himself. Just seeing Tyr standing there caused his vision to blur with tears. With surprising speed for someone with a bullet-wounded leg, Tyr crossed the room and was at his bedside before he could even say anything.

"Elliot..." Tyr took his hand gently. "Are you alright? Do you... remember me?" Tyr swallowed a lump in his throat as he spoke. To see ever-stoic Tyr struggling with such real emotion made it painfully clear just how much these past days had affected him.

Unable to hold back, Elliot let out a ragged sob and threw his arms around Tyr. He ignored the spike of pain from his injuries but even so, Tyr quickly laid him back down. He held his uninjured arm around Elliot's slight body as he leaned over him. The nurse sighed and shut the door, leaving them alone. Elliot cried into Tyr's shoulder, wishing he could stop and control himself.

It was an impossible wish, however. The warmth of Tyr's body against his and the feeling of his strength was the antithesis of every emotion he had felt in the past days. It had been so long he had forgotten the feeling, Tyr's unique scent, the sound of his breathing. His heart broke all over again when he thought about what he must have unknowingly done to Tyr by not allowing him to come in. But now, it seemed right that Tyr had chosen when to enter.

Tyr held onto him tightly, leaning over the bed but not letting any of his weight rest on Elliot as he had sometimes done in their intimate moments. This embrace was not like that. This was wholly protective. Ever so gentle but with reserved strength that Elliot both loved and envied.

As Tyr's touch warmed him, Elliot's sobs began to mix with laughter. Not a laughter borne of humor but from simultaneous relief and embarrassment. Hearing his mingled crying laughs, Tyr planted several kisses on Elliot's cheek, although these too were almost impossibly gentle, as though Tyr was handling a delicate and priceless work of art.

Elliot didn't ever want the moment to end. Even though he resented being handled so tentatively, he could recognize that it was for the best. His wounds in his stomach and shoulder were still healing, and his wounds inside were unpredictable.

"You..." Elliot tried to catch his breath around the series of affectionate kisses Tyr rained on him. "Your arm? And your leg?"

Tyr leaned back, propping himself up on his good elbow. "They will heal. And you will too." He promised. "Every part of you." He kissed Elliot's forehead.

Elliot could have started crying all over again, but he held his resolve this time. After simply holding Elliot for several quiet minutes, Tyr pulled away and brought a chair over next to Elliot's bed.

"You should rest." Tyr took Elliot's hand in his. "I will stay here."

Elliot shook his head. "I've been resting. What happened on the roof? I saw you kill Baldur and heard the helicopter."

Giving a sigh Tyr nodded. "The helicopter was from Aesir but had no more Aesir soldiers on board. The pilots were not expecting a fight when they landed. With a bit of... persuasion... they brought us here to this clinic on the outskirts of the city."

"What about Marcel?" Elliot asked with concern. "The doctor said he only treated two."

Tyr squeezed Elliot's hand in a way that told Elliot what he was going to say even before he voiced it. "Marcel awoke briefly after the helicopter touched down. He wanted you to know that he would have done it over again and he hoped that it had been enough to save you. He..." Tyr took a moment to regain his composure by forcing a stoic scowl. "He had no regrets."

This time, Elliot couldn't hold back the tears. Part of him had expected this, but to hear his fears confirmed broke the dam that he had built around the emotions since waking up. Tyr laid his head on the bed next to Elliot's as the boy cried his heart out. Without Marcel there would have been no traveling theatre, no Vanir, the New State would have thrived unchallenged. All the people he had met, all the painful, exciting, beautiful experiences since leaving his uncle's farm, his reunion with Tyr, all that and more Elliot owed in large part to Marcel. And he had not been able to say thank you, or even goodbye.

Elliot realized that, in the time since waking up, he had not properly mourned the fallen. Trapped in this little room, it had felt like the outside world was barely even real. His wallowing in self-pity had kept him from looking outward. Now, finally, his tears fell for Marcel, who left behind Ida his partner in crime, the only one who was his equal in their elaborate dance, Carlos the soft-spoken musician who had been Marcel's steadfast friend for years since Marcel was just a boy, and of course, most of all, Jay. Elliot knew how much Marcel had meant to Jay. He had saved Jay's life, given him a home, and given him love, something that the sarcastic older boy had been lacking even before Ragnarok.

He cried too for Uncle Mark. Now, days later with Tyr by his side, the finality of his uncle's death hit him hard. Uncle Mark had tried to do good for Elliot and for his family. He opened his home to them and provided for them. Elliot had never been very close to the gruff old soldier growing up, but to suddenly lose him forever left a hole in his heart. He thought about Alice and his mom, about Kara and the grief that they would feel when the news reached them, and then about little Markus, now fatherless. This thought hardened Elliot's resolve even through the tears still leaked from his eyes. Markus would grow up knowing about his father's heroism and fearlessness. He would know that Mark had given his life for everything they had accomplished.

But what had they accomplished? This struck Elliot suddenly. Baldur had said that Aesir planned on taking over when the New State was gone. Had they gone through all this and sacrificed so much only to be immediately faced with another much stronger enemy?

"What about Aesir?" Elliot asked when he finally trusted his voice.

Tyr stroked a hand soothingly down his arm. "Don't worry about them. From what I could gather from the pilots, Baldur and Ullr's mission was a test to see if Aesir could take over the New State without sending troops. My guess is that Baldur was acting alone when he found out that I was up here. He and I had... history." Tyr explained.

Sighing with relief, Elliot nodded his understanding. "So, they aren't going to attack?"

"Not anytime soon." Tyr shook his head. "They've lost three Aesir now. They won't be happy about it, but they likely won't risk any more until they have had time to assess."

Elliot had not thought of it that way. Three Aesir, four counting Tyr, had either defected or been killed. That almost made him smile. The memory of Ullr's death sprang to his mind causing first a wave of morbid pleasure followed by immense guilt for this feeling.

"I killed Ullr..." Elliot said quietly. "And... I liked doing it..."

Tyr shook his head again and reached his arm around Elliot. "No. That wasn't you, Elliot. You did what you had to do. That Carver substance saved your life and let you do what was necessary. But that isn't you, and you don't need it anymore."

Elliot hugged Tyr tightly, ignoring the pain and Tyr gave him another gentle kiss.

"The more pressing threat," Tyr continued with a trace of humor. "Is our friends from the Tournament. They were becoming quite close with the New State and won't like the regime change."

The Tournament seemed so long ago, the thought that Adrian the wealthy host would still hold a vendetta after all this time seemed absurd to Elliot. He gave his first little smile in a long time. "They don't have Aesir, or even Carvers." He pointed out.

Tyr nodded. "Not to mention that a good portion of the New State militia simply gave up when they found out that their leader was dead. His is one death that no one will mourn, but apparently his rule of the capitol was tenuous at best."

"So, what will happen now?" Elliot asked. "Will the Vanir take control of the city?"

Shaking his head, Tyr gave a half smile. "Now, you'll rest and recover. Don't worry about anything else. We don't have the manpower to control the city, and that is not what the Vanir was made to do. We destroyed a tyrant; the rest is up to the people."

Tyr stayed by Elliot's side almost day and night after that. There were times when he was needed elsewhere. The other surviving members of their infiltration group had their hands full trying to organize the people to rout the pockets of New State resistance. Tyr explained to Elliot during their time together that, while he was not much good in a fight at the moment, he could still provide tactical guidance and rally support.

Another two days passed, and Elliot was spending more and more time on his feet, hobbling around his room and roaming the halls of the small clinic. Even the sarcastic doctor seemed impressed with his progress.

Elliot was still awoken by the convulsive fits sometimes, but they were not quite as violent. He also found that his hand on his left side where his shoulder had been shot had developed a tremor. This did not help his temper of course, which was on a much more sensitive trigger and Elliot sometimes felt powerless to control it. He even lashed out at Tyr more than once when Tyr tried to offer encouragement. Even Tyr's unreserved patience with him sometimes made Elliot angry. He knew he did not deserve such unconditional care.

Tyr's only response to Elliot's anger and frustration was to silently offer his hand while looking at Elliot with his stoic, unreadable, blue-grey eyes. Sometimes Elliot would take the hand, and everything would be alright again. Other times he would turn away, unable to even look at Tyr with the shame of his own words and actions burning inside him.

Finally, however, the doctor declared that Elliot was ready to leave when he wanted. With Tyr's arm around him, Elliot made his way out of the clinic and into the sunlight. It was not the first time he had been outdoors since becoming mobile, but he had never strayed beyond the small courtyard of the clinic. A smile touched his face when he saw that Jay was waiting for him outside. The smile was accompanied by a pang of sadness when he remembered all that Jay had lost.

Jay greeted him with an enthusiastic hug though and Elliot winced as he stretched his tender muscles to return the embrace.

"You're even scrawnier than before." Jay remarked in disbelief. "Were they not feeding you in there?"

Elliot did not understand how Jay could be seemingly back to his normal flippant self in so short a time, but nonetheless the touch of humor drew a quiet laugh from Elliot that he struggled not to let diminish into tears. He squeezed Jay tightly and Tyr supported him from behind to keep him on his feet.

"We're going to be taking the helicopter back to the Vanir." Tyr told Elliot, and Jay nodded. Apparently the two had discussed this before. "Eric, Dean, and Charlie will stay behind for now to keep things organized."

What Tyr had not mentioned were the five small urns that were loaded into the helicopter with them, each one reverently contained in a velvet-lined wooden box. Elliot knew what they were, and the sight of them made him harden his face to avoid crying. Jay purposefully avoided looking at the precious cargo as he helped Elliot into the helicopter.

Elliot's roiling emotions were quickly overtaken by nerves and fear as the rotors began to spin. He had never flown before, at least not consciously, and the loud noise of the helicopter did nothing to sooth the tension. He closed his eyes as the craft lurched into the sky.

Their arrival by helicopter near the Vanir's territory made quite the entrance. Elliot practically tumbled out of the aircraft, feeling sick. A small crowd had gathered, many of them armed, but when Elliot and Jay stepped out, followed by Tyr, a wave of relief rippled through them.

Elliot's sister Kara suddenly rushed forward to hug him. Gasping in pain, Elliot did his best to hug her back, but she immediately realized something was wrong and pulled away. Tyr put a supportive hand on Elliot's shoulder.

"Thank god you're back." Kara said sincerely. "We've all been so worried."

Ida came forward then from the crowd as well, greeting Tyr with a much gentler hug than Kara had given Elliot.

"Returning in style I see." Ida joked, but her smile faded when Tyr's only response to her humor was a brief nod. "You must have succeeded if you managed to take a helicopter..." She pointed out, confused by the groups somber mood. "... What about the others?" Ida finally asked with mounting trepidation in her voice.

Tyr didn't respond. He turned over his shoulder to look at Jay who had begun to carefully unload the carved wooden boxes.

Ida could clearly see the pain in Jay's face as he handled the boxes containing the urns, but she asked anyway with a shaky voice. "Marcel?"

Putting a hand on her shoulder, Tyr nodded once. Ida closed her eyes for a long moment, inhaling a shuddering breath before moving past Tyr to wrap Jay in a tight hug.

"What about Uncle Mark?" Kara asked worriedly. She had been paying attention to the conversation and now turned her eyes back to Elliot.

Not trusting his voice, Elliot took Ida's example and simply pulled his sister in for a hug again. He could hear her crying into his shoulder, and he allowed his own tears to fall silently as he held her. He did not want her to hear him crying as well. Playing the role of the comforter was foreign to Elliot but he knew it was what his sister needed at the moment. And so, he stood firm, ignoring the pain in his body, and doing his best to hide the pain in his heart.

Word spread fast through the Vanir camp. The New State was no more. Ida, their acting leader, gave an announcement and declared it a night for celebration. Elliot was floored by the amount of strength it must have taken her to give such a speech without bursting into tears. But the people needed to hear it.

There was no celebration for Elliot, however. As the rest of the camp came alive with music and laughter, his family's tent was quiet and sorrowful. The four of them mourned together until, to Elliot's surprise, Tyr joined them. He had disappeared not long after their arrival and Elliot had not expected him to show up for a while, knowing full well that Tyr processed emotions much differently than the rest of them.

Tyr entered the tent and Kara immediately hugged him. Their mother and Alice welcomed him in amid tears, insisting that he was a part of the family. At their request, Tyr retold the story of their adventure from when they set out. He told the family about Mark's bravery and the trust he had earned in such a short amount of time. Tyr even spoke regretfully about their plan to lock Elliot away until everything was safe, which drew a few much needed albeit choked laughs.

Tyr avoided going into detail when it came to Elliot's injuries during Ullr's betrayal and the fight with Baldur, leaving out the Carver injection altogether. He certainly did not hold back on touting Elliot's heroism though, to which Elliot shook his head and looked at the ground in embarrassment.

Elliot caught Tyr's hand and held it as they shared stories. Tyr gave him a brief surprised look but did not pull away. Elliot was beyond caring about judgement. He needed the to feel the touch the person that he loved. It was unclear if his family noticed the gesture as more than just an act of platonic comfort, but if they did it went unremarked on.

No one slept much that night. The mix of emotions, grief as well as relief was exhausting but paradoxically made it impossible to rest. They dozed and talked and cried and even laughed together until the early hours of the morning.

"I will do it." Elliot picked up a shovel as the morning fog rolled down the mountainside, leaving the lush grass damp and turning the valley below into a misty dreamscape. The sun, just breaching rim of the mountains, shone sparkling golden beams through the haze.

"Elliot, you're hurt." His mother worriedly reminded.

Shaking his head, Elliot gripped the handle of the shovel with both hands. "I have to."

A hand touched his shoulder. "I'll help." Jay spoke solemnly, taking up another shovel.

"Me too." Kara insisted, stepping forward to join them.

Elliot looked over his shoulder, eyes misting over. His family was behind him, blood or otherwise. Although, not all of them, he thought as he drove the spade into the soft ground.

"Wait for us." The voice came on cue. Ida came up the path, helping Tyr along much to Tyr's disapproval. Carlos followed behind them as well, carrying more shovels over one shoulder.

"He would have liked it here." Ida pointed outed, trying to keep her voice even. "They all would have, I think. Look at that view."

Jay struck his shovel to the ground as well, followed by Kara and then three more. Even Tyr with only one good arm worked at the digging. Each adding their sweat and tears to the soil where their friends, family, and loved ones would rest, they dug their five holes in the side of the green mountain.

The Vanir all gathered late in the morning for the burial. The fog had lifted, revealing the breathtaking beauty of the valley and the rolling hills that disappeared into the distance. Ida gave another brief speech, this time about heroism and the willingness to make the greatest sacrifice. A bagpiper played a slow mournful droning tune as the five boxes were brought out and carefully, reverently lowered into the holes.

Alice wept with the widow of Tom as well as the mother of Martin and Roger who Elliot especially pitied, having lost both of her sons. As the dirt began to fill in around the carved boxes and the pipes rose to a heartfelt crescendo, Jay, who had remained largely stoic through the proceedings fell to his knees in front of Marcel's grave.

The older boy's shoulders began to shake as he watched the box disappear under the earth. It began as quiet controlled sniffles but quickly devolved into racking sobs as the pent-up grief poured out of him.

Elliot wanted to do something to comfort his friend somehow, but something told him that Jay wanted, no needed to experience this part on his own. Instead, Elliot pressed his face to Tyr's chest and cried for all they had lost.

The next morning dawned cool for the early summer. Elliot sat alone by the fresh graves which had been marked with wooden plaques until proper headstones could be made. He had slipped out of the tent early when sleep had eluded him once more.

"Ida was right." Tyr's voice startled Elliot a bit, though he had become used to Tyr appearing out of nowhere. "It is quite a view."

Elliot nodded wordlessly. Tyr came to sit beside him, and Elliot rested his head on his shoulder. He had been there for some time, lost in thought, watching the sun turn from a soft glow on the horizon to the streaming light that was cresting the mountains.

After a long silence passed between them, Elliot finally voiced what he had been thinking about since waking up in the clinic. "Now what?"

"Hmm..." Tyr rumbled as though he had expected this question. "Now we heal. And we move forward."

"But what if..." Elliot swallowed a lump in his throat, afraid to even voice his concern. "What if I don't get better? What if I can't?"

Tyr put an arm around him, pulling him closer. "You will." He assured. "And even if you didn't. I would still be with you."

Looking up at him, Elliot searched Tyr's face to find unveiled sincerity.

"We have done our duty for now." Tyr told him. "We have suffered for it. And now we have earned the right to rest and recover. I would rather nothing else than to stay with you until you're as good as new."

Elliot couldn't help but smile and rock his head back and forth on Tyr's shoulder. "And there's no one else I'd rather have helping me."

With a soft chuckle, Tyr stroked a gentle hand through Elliot's hair as the two of them watched the sun finally and triumphantly break free into the crystal-clear blue. Elliot thought back to his dream of paradise, with a cabin in the mountains and just the two of them to share it and suddenly that dream did not seem quite so far away.

The End

Afterward:

Here we are. 303 pages and 158,368 words later. Thank you for coming along on this adventure with me. What a ride it's been, hmm? Whether you've just discovered the story or whether you've been here since the beginning, I hope that this story and these characters have meant something to you. Thanks especially to those of you who have continually sent encouragement and support with your thoughtful emails. All of you have kept me going even in the times where I may have felt like quitting. There is no way for me to thank you enough for that.

And of course, thank you to Nifty for giving this story, and all my stories, a home.

To anyone who has made it this far and dedicated so much of your time to this story, you have all of my love and I hope nothing but the very best for you.

With most sincere thanks,

PurpleJubilee

<3

PS: There may be more to the story of Elliot and Tyr in the future, but for now there are other stories that need to be told that will hopefully be equally riveting. Stay tuned to the mailing list for more! :)