Archive of Our Own ^beta

Tom had thought that suffering together, meant you bonded; that was how it was supposed to be, right? That was why they trained together in units, that was why no soldiers worked alone. See shit, do shit, get shit done. After that last successful exercise, he'd thought Hastadi was pulling together, but then, under true pressure, they'd splintered, they'd fallen, and now...

Now he found it hard to look either April or Sully in the face. Because then he'd see all the ghosts standing behind them.

Chyler, Vickers, Dimah, JJ... Cadets, officers, staff, thousands of them... General Black whose body he had pulled out of the Warthog, heavy and light at the same time... Chyler...

Three people alive in a sea of ghosts.

So he avoided looking.

They'd been given bunks beside each other; three battle-shocked cadets waiting for the powers that be to decide what to do with them.

Tom didn't know if it was the same for the other two—he just kept his head down as they went to and from the mess at meals, kept his head down as he poured himself into workouts at the gym, and spent the rest of his time holed up in his bunk.

His chest hadn't stopped hurting.

He'd cried twice since they left Circinius-IV behind. Once in the lengthy debriefing, when he had to tell about Chyler, and once on a video call with his mother.

His mom surprised him with new copies of Cadmon's messages. (That was why he had broken down, feeling like he couldn't breathe at the thought of having lost that piece of his brother forever.)

Cadmon's voice, his laughter and sadness, his stupid jokes and the chess challenge—the digital ghost of his brother was Tom's one solace.

Everything else was blurry.

They said his concussion was healing. After the first night, or whatever, when he'd crashed, he hadn't slept for more than a couple hours at a time. The worst dreams were the ones where the Master Chief was the one who killed Chyler.

He wore three sets of dogtags now, and one little piece of black rock. A heavy weight to carry.

So far, he wasn't doing a good job at carrying it, he knew.

Axios, Axios echoed in his mind, every time he woke, and all he knew was that he wasn't worthy, knew he was ashamed, but he felt nothing.

“Well done, soldier,” the Master Chief, the Spartan had said. Tom wasn't sure he'd wanted to be a soldier. But he was one now. A soldier, curled up in his bunk, tablet in hand, watching his big brother laughing in occasionally glitchy pixels.

It was one of the first vids, from his freshman year at Academy. Cadmon talking about making friends with the janitors in the cafeteria, and arranging for the 'Prank of the Century'. But before he could get into the details, the video cut out in a hasty exit.

Tom breathed in the silence, lingering in the sense of his brother's presence.

Somewhere down the hall, boots thumped the deck at a near run, and Tom glanced up, shot an irritated glance toward his open cabin door.

Before he could think too hard about it though, the noise stopped, and he sighed, glanced back at his tablet.

Knuckles rapped sharply on the doorframe, and he guessed it was Sully, so he didn't bother looking up.

“Not now, Sully. Please.”

“What about me?” said a quiet voice, not Sully's. “Do you have time for me?”

Tom looked up, frowning.

Who...? He blinked. Chuckled. Looked back to his tablet.

Froze.

Slowly he lifted his head, glanced toward the door. The man there hadn't moved.

“Tom,” Cadmon said softly, sounding like he was about to cry. “Tommy, thank God you're alright.”

Tom's stomach lurched. “Shit.”

Cadmon's cheeks were flushed, his eyes dark and muddy. He grinned, quick. “Hey, bro.”

“So, I'm hallucinating now. Great.” Tom huffed a laugh. “Guess you aren't the worst thing to hallucinate. Better than aliens.”

Cadmon swore under his breath, came forward a few steps into the cabin. “Tom, I'm so sorry. They just put me through surgery, and stuck me on ice. Trying to keep the Covenant under wraps.” A disgusted snort. “Fat lot of good that did.”

Something about Cadmon's anger stirred Tom, woke him up to the way the physical presence filled his tiny cabin, and he turned away sharply. Closed his eyes tight.

There was quiet. But not quiet, because someone was breathing, boots shifting on the deck, fabric rustling. A sniff. Someone was in Tom's cabin, and that someone was alive.

It's not Cadmon. He's dead. This is just your brain playing tricks on you. Because you want him here. But it can't be him. You're a soldier, Lasky. You accept that people are dead.

So he looked back over, to tell whoever it actually was to get out.

“Hey, Tom?” Cadmon's voice was even softer. “Do you hear me? I'm not dead. I came as soon as I found out. I'm so sorry. For all of it. All of them. There were... a lot of good people at CAMS.”

He took another two steps, into Tom's space, close enough for Tom to reach out and touch his leg.

“I'm here, Tom. I swear. You're not hallucinating. I'm not a ghost, or an alien. It's me, it's Cadmon.”

Tom stared straight ahead at the green-brown pattern on the man's pants. Which, he suddenly realized, didn't match the flight jacket he was wearing. Not to mention his t-shirt wasn't UNSC issue; it was a Metallica one Tom had... Tom had...

Behind his breastbone, something broke.

Cadmon. Cadmon? No this couldn't be real, couldn't possibly– But oh how he wanted it to be real!

He pushed himself up onto one elbow, set aside the tablet when he realised his hands were shaking. He looked up, just as Cadmon crouched down.

“Cadmon?” he breathed.

Tears spilled down his brother's cheeks. “Yeah. Yeah, it's me, bro. Sorry I'm late.”

Tom didn't believe, not really. But he wanted to. So he reached out. Touched a warm, wet cheek. Snatched his hand back as if burned.

Cadmon caught his wrist, strong fingers wrapping tight, the touch sending a kind of electric shock through Tom.

“Cadmon?!” His gasp strangled on a sob, and then he lunged over the edge of his bunk, reaching, desperate.

Cadmon caught him as he fell, and then Tom had one arm around his brother's neck, the other around his back, fingers clenched in a death grip. Cadmon's arms wrapped around him, strong and warm, a hand on the back of Tom's head, and he was saying something Tom couldn't quite hear because he was crying too hard. He buried his face in Cadmon’s neck.

“You were gone!” The words broke out in a wail, as if he were five years old again.

Cadmon just tightened his grip. “I know,” he choked out, breath warm across Tom's ear. “I'm sorry. I'm so sorry.”

“They died! They all died!”

“I know. I know, I’m so sorry.”

“I was scared!”

“Yeah. Yeah, but I’m here now. I’m here, baby bro. I’ve got you.”

Cadmon was so real and alive, his chest so solid, the smell of him seemed everywhere, and Tom let himself go, let himself fall apart like he hadn’t dared to, because he knew his big brother could put him back together again.

In a heap on the deck, the brothers clung to each other and wept.

***

Cadmon was four when he found he was going to be a big brother. He was almost five when Mom put a little tiny bundle, wrapped in a blanket, in his arms. He remembered looking down into that tiny pink face with little tubes running from the baby’s nose, and whispering his name over and over: “Tommy. Tommy. Tommy.” When Dad bent down to ask if he was done, he had just clutched the baby closer, saying, “He’s mine. I’ll keep him. He needs me.”

Well, maybe most of the memory came from having heard the story told so often by Dad. But still.

“He’s mine. He needs me.”

It was the same thought he had had, just minutes out of the ice, sitting in the hospital mess, eating soup to calm his still lurching stomach, wearing nothing but medical issue pants, and watching the footage from Circinius-IV.

The Corbulo Academy of Military Science, was completely destroyed, and there are only three known survivors. The words scrolled across the screen, and then Cadmon had puked.

He’d looked up again, eyes stinging, pushing the now disgusting bowl away from him, just as the pictures flashed up on the screen. Cadet April Sorenski. Cadet Thomas Lasky. Cadet–

Cadmon was on his feet, heading for the door before he realized the room was spinning, and the floor was rapidly rising toward his face.

But even as he took the meds, even as he wrung the awful truth from every person he laid eyes on, he knew one thing. No matter what had happened to him, he needed to get to Tom.

Tom would need him, like he never had before, not even after Dad died.

He’d been right.

As his own tears dried, Cadmon pulled the still-sobbing Tom more comfortably into his lap, wondering how the hell 15-year-olds had gotten so small. He thought of all the dead freshmen in the ruins of CAMS, all those kids… He closed his eyes, cradled Tom closer.

He didn’t ease his grip till on one indrawn breath, the sobs changed suddenly to coughs, and Tom’s shoulders shuddered under his arm.

“Hey. Bro. Take it easy, alright?” He pried Tom’s arms loose enough to give the boy room to breathe, and cupped Tom’s cheek with one hand, nudging him to lift his head, sit straighter.

It took a worrying amount of time for Tom to catch his breath. When the coughing stopped, Tom freed one hand from Cadmon’s jacket long enough to scrub it across his flushed face.

“You swear you’re real?” he asked hoarsely.

“Swear.” Cadmon grinned damply.

“I missed you.”

Tears sprang back to Cadmon’s eyes, and he smoothed one hand over Tom’s short hair. “I’ve missed you too, little bro.”

Tom’s hands drifted up to gently grip Cadmon’s face, and his sigh gusted across Cadmon’s cheek. When their foreheads pressed together, Cadmon could see Tom was smiling. A small smile, yeah, but honestly the most beautiful thing Cadmon had ever seen.

“Don’t go,” Tom whispered, vulnerable, pleading.

“Couldn’t pay me to, bro.” Impulsively Cadmon pulled him down enough to press a kiss to his forehead.

“Good.”

Tom relaxed, curling against Cadmon’s chest, seeming content to linger in the moment, no questions asked. That was fine with Cadmon.

A sound by the door, caught his attention, and he glanced over, levelled the officer standing there with a single glare.

He’s mine. I’ll keep him. He needs me.

The woman turned away quickly, and Cadmon ignored the muttering in the hall. He didn’t want to think about the rest of the world right now. Tom was all that mattered.

After all, he needed Tom too.

***

Worn out with the crying, Tom rested his head against Cadmon’s chest, let his eyes drift shut. He could hear Cadmon breathing, even hear his heartbeat, and the warm vitality of his presence was like a soft blanket being tucked under his chin by his dad at night.

Cadmon’s chin nudged against Tom’s head. “Let me guess,” he muttered. “You haven’t been sleeping.”

Tom couldn’t help tensing. He didn’t know what exactly to say, wanting to be truthful, wanting to sound brave.

“Hey, it’s okay, bro.” Cadmon shifted under him. “You can sleep on me if you want. I just need to either sit against the wall, or lie down. Something’s messed up in my back.”

Tom processed the words, then sat up fast, Cadmon’s hand steadying him as he slipped off his big brother’s lap.

“What happened to you? You got hurt? What about the rest of your squad? Where were you? What did they do to you?”

Cadmon huffed a laugh, shifted carefully around to sit with his back against the locker beneath Tom’s bunk, Tom moving with him, and Tom saw the furrow in his brow smooth out. “Yeesh, bro, what’s with the questions?” he teased.

An even more important one came to mind. “Does Mom know?!”

Cadmon made a little face. “Well, I didn’t tell her, but considering how many protocols I broke to get here, I’m sure she knows by now.”

“She’ll be really happy,” Tom murmured, and a star of hope bloomed somewhere in the sky. Maybe this would be the thing to pull them back together, maybe this would melt the chill Mom had had ever since Dad died. It had only worsened after Cadmon…

“But what happened?” Tom wanted to crawl back into his brother’s lap, but now the thought made him shy, and he moved to sit at Cadmon’s side instead.

Cadmon’s arm went around his shoulders, and Tom leaned into him.

“Well,” Cadmon finally said, “they weren’t lying about the others. I was the only one from my squad—the only one from two squads, actually—to make it out.”

Tom swallowed hard, pulled his knees up to his chest. “There were three of us,” he whispered. “Three out of thousands. But it should have been four.” A lump swelled in his throat, but he forced himself to keep going. “They got Chyler on our way out.” Tears again, but quiet this time, and he breathed slow, let them be.

“What did ‘they’ look like?” Cadmon spoke low, pulling Tom more against his chest.

“I- don’t know.” Tom exhaled, shaky. Cadmon was warm against his back. “There were different kinds of them. Aliens. I guess. No one’s told me what they were.”

“The Covenant,” Cadmon said breezily. “Bunch of aliens working together who think humans need to be exterminated. Religious reasons apparently.”

“How do you know that?”

Cadmon shrugged. “Got it out of a Spartan on my way here.” He stroked Tom’s hair, a steady rhythm. “ONI wanted it kept under wraps. Which is why they put me under wraps. But cat’s out of the bag now.” Tom tilted his head back enough to see Cadmon’s crooked grin. “And so am I.”

Tom thought of something, grinned back. “Did you steal a ship?”

Cadmon grimaced. “Not exactly. I got a ride with a couple Spartans on their way out. They knew all about it.”

“The ones in the armor.”

“Yeah. They pulled you out, right?”

“We were going to die. The- alien was enormous. It killed Vickers, when he tried to distract it. One shot.” Tom closed his eyes, shook his head. Cadmon’s hand stilled in his hair, then moved again. “Then: bang!” Someone shoots it from behind. And then… he was there.” The shock of the moment was almost a thrill as he told it this time.

“Bombs,” Cadmon said quietly. “They used these awful incendiary bombs. Melts your armor off and cooks you inside it. Other squad got nailed. We got close enough for a firefight. We killed one.” There was pride in his voice. “But they picked us off good, even after we got smart, and used the weapons of the one we took down. There was a knot of us, Marines and Innies. Didn’t matter anymore, we were all human.”

Tom thought of the footage Sully had showed them, and it was easy to picture Cadmon’s story.

“They pulled back suddenly–”

“Because they were gonna bomb you,” Tom interjected.

Cadmon huffed. “Yep. Took a few minutes for that to sink in though. And then it did. Cass and Holo were the only other ones alive, barely. They…” He swallowed audibly. “…covered me.”

Tom said nothing, just pressed his head back into his brother’s shoulder. His understanding went beyond words anyway.

“Spartans picked me out. They were… like super heroes.”

“The one who came for us.” Tom shook his head. “He was… ready for them. His armor, his weapons. He knew exactly what he was doing. We were nothing compared to them. Our guns, our armor. They burned us up like paper.” He sat up straighter, anger thrumming through him now. “If they knew about these Covenant, if they knew they were a threat, why the hell didn’t they warn us? We could have been more ready! We could have saved more!”

Cadmon looked him in the eye, sparks burning there between them. “Damn straight.”

Two words, but they took the storm out of Tom, settled that into a cool determination he tucked away for later. He sank back into Cadmon’s side.

“How’d you get hurt?”

Cadmon grimaced. “Burned. My back. Then fell somewhere on the way out. I was pretty out of it by then. Don’t really remember it.”

“Your back?” Tom bit his lip. Skin grafts were easy, but… “What about your tattoo?!”

Cadmon blinked. “I… forgot about that. Haven’t even looked. Kinda hard without a mirror. Here.” He pushed away from the locker, turning his back toward Tom, and stripping off his jacket. “Take a look for me.”

Tom rubbed a fist over his tired eyes, then slowly reached to pull up the hem of the black t-shirt. He couldn’t quite stop a small gasp.

“That bad, huh?” Cadmon was trying to sound cheerful.

“I mean, some of it’s still there, but the new stuff is right in the middle.” It was weird how there wasn’t any real sign of injury, just that big patch of clean new skin. Curiosity got the better of him, and pressed his hand against it, traced the edges of the patch with his fingers. “I wish I could thank them,” he murmured.

“Guess I’ll need a new tattoo,” was Cadmon’s only answer. “One for my guys and one for yours.”

Tom dropped the shirt, turned away to sit back against the locker. “They were yours too.” He yawned suddenly. Coughed. He was tired, thirsty, and couldn’t decide whether to take a nap, or video call Mom to freak her out. He wanted to see April and Sully too, tell them about the miracle that was Cadmon sitting beside him right now.

“Got any water in here?” Cadmon asked suddenly.

Tom almost laughed. “Top drawer under the pillow.” He nodded to Cadmon’s left.

They passed the water bottle back and forth a few times, till the itch in Tom’s throat eased, and he leaned into Cadmon again, yawned. The idea of sleep didn’t seem nearly that terrifying with his big brother’s arm around him, solid and warm.

Cadmon made it all easier, just by being there. Like always. Bad day at school, a cold, something icky for supper—all of it was better with Cadmon there.

“Hey, bro,” Cadmon said suddenly. “You wouldn’t happen to know where my dogtags ended up, would you?”

Tom laughed. He couldn’t help it, a burst of joy and sorrow, that ended with tears in his eyes, but he was smiling. He sat up again, turned to face his brother. “As a matter of fact”—he reached under his shirt—“I do.”

Cadmon’s smile was crooked. “You wore them the whole time.”

“Mom sent them.” Tom lifted the whole chain off, and set to disentangling them all. “It was all they gave us of you.”

“You’ve got three there.”

A simple observation, and Tom brushed his fingers over the set with the rusty stains. “Chyler,” he whispered, bit his lip. “Didn’t have any family to–”

“And the rock?”

“Not sure exactly.” Tom exhaled, rubbed the black piece between his thumb and forefinger. “The Master Chief gave it to me when we left. It might be from the last alien we killed. Well, he killed it really; I was just the distraction.”

“Master Chief?” Cadmon’s eyebrows were way up. “The Master Chief? Spartan 117?”

“You know him?”

“He was on Andesia. Part of the team that pulled me out. But there were others on the med ship; survivors of the Covenant like me.” Cadmon’s eyes were intense. “He’s a legend. There’s Spartans, they say. And then there’s the Master Chief Spartan. No one knows his name, and no one’s seen his face. But he’s killed dozens, maybe even hundreds of those Covenant. More than anyone else.”

Wow. Tom remembered his voice, calm and steady, the way they had all followed this unknown man, who might not even have been a man. He’d been easy to trust somehow. Well, Tom figured, if there was a new war starting, they would need people like the Master Chief to lead the way. And Tom would gladly follow.

“Also, what do you mean you were ‘the distraction’?” Now Cadmon was frowning. “Did you something stupid and heroic you haven’t told me yet?”

Tom stared down at the dogtags in his hand. “It didn’t feel heroic.”

“It doesn’t usually. I think.”

There was an opening, Tom knew, and Cadmon would nag him till the story came out, but he wasn’t pushing right now, and Tom was glad to let the moment pass.

“Here,” he said quietly, fingers moving fast. “I even still have the chain.” A moment later, he held up the single set of dogtags stamped LASKY, CADMON.

Tom leaned forward, spreading the chain between his hands, and Cadmon ducked his head, let his little brother return the tags to their rightful place.

“Now I’m alive again.” Cadmon patted his chest, grinned at Tom. “Officially.”

The tears surprised Tom, and he ducked his head, pulled his own chain back over his head with shaky hands.

“Hey. Bro.” Cadmon’s fingers wrapped gently around his wrists, pulled him close. “It’s okay. I’m here.”

Tom slumped against his big brother’s chest, too tired to hold anything back. “Don’t leave,” he murmured.

“You’re falling asleep, bro.” Cadmon laughed softly, tugging Tom into a more comfortable position, lying half in his lap. Tom let him. “I’ll be here when you wake up. Promise.”

Tom couldn’t even keep his eyes open any longer, so he just mumbled, “We can start a new chess game tomorrow.”

“Okay, bro.”

Tom didn’t even remember sleeping. There was nothing but blessed sweet silence, and no ghosts came to bother him. When he woke however much later, he found himself stretched out on the deck, sharing a pillow and blanket with Cadmon asleep beside him, and April and Sully curled up in his bunk playing cards.

Cadmon was a solid warmth against his side, his breathing deep and even, and Tom looked over at his fellow cadets with a half smile. Dimly he noted that his chest didn't hurt anymore.

April and Sully both grinned back at him, a little shy. Just the two of them. No one else.

“It’s like a nightmare, right?” Sully said quietly. “Except the polar opposite.”

“Weirdly enough,” Tom muttered, "yeah. I know what you mean."

April held up her cards. “Should I deal you in, Lasky?”