Weariness followed him like a stray dog fed one too many times and Hakyeon had to stifle a yawn as he rubbed at his temple with his fingers, the slender digits moving in slow circles to ease an oncoming headache.  Work was doing him no favors by keeping him away from Taekwoon and it was a menial job to begin with: checking after the computer diagnostics was pointless most of the time but humans were among the best line of defense to detect the one in a million error that could cause a ship to go down in flames.  That and it was an excuse to keep people employed in a work force that had long since been shifted to predominantly automatic machines and computers.

                It wasn’t hard to remember why he opted to go into that line of work either; the incidents, both of them, were never far from his mind, but it was tedious to be sure.  Especially since he was on the second line of defense out of three for just this reason.  People also got tired.  The letters on the screen blurred when his eyes attempted to cross of their own accord and he huffed in irritation before leaning back to scrub at the aching orbs.

                “You look like you’ve been pulling another all-nighter,” Minhyuk commented, swinging around the cubicle to set a white mug of coffee on his desk carefully.

                Hakyeon managed a wan smile as he took the mug in his hands and inhaled deeply, relaxing under the effects of the strong aroma before he tried to offer a response.  A warm sip wet his tongue and he leaned back in the comfortable chair with the mug cradled close.  “I actually went to bed at a decent hour last night,” he defended, knowing the dark circles under his eyes and paler than usual complexion weren’t very convincing of that statement.

                “Ah huh,” the shorter man nodded, one brow raised so that it was nearly aligned with his dark brown bangs while he perched on the side of his friend’s desk.  A drab, gray uniform indicated he was in a similar position as Hakyeon but as was common, he didn’t spend nearly as much time at his desk; he spent far more time checking on Hakyeon or finding any excuse not to do more than the minimal amount of work possible.  Granted, the former had been his primary reason of late, and he’d been making more frequent stops with Hakyeon’s perpetual, inexplicable decline.

                “I did.”

                Another light laugh followed the added defense and Minhyuk reached over to brush black bangs out of Hakyeon’s face in a friendly gesture.  “Then why do you like death warmed over?” he asked in all sincerity, a hint of concern limning his tone.  They’d been in the same education block growing up, since their families lived in the same building, but had gone separate ways after graduating.  Even then, the two had kept in touch and as such, they had also been friends for years, leaving Minhyuk as one of the few people that knew Hakyeon as well as his previous crew.

                Almost delicate facial features conveyed his worry better than his voice and Hakyeon had to look away from the mocha eyes before they cut too deep.  “I don’t know.”  Still looking away, he took another sip of coffee and caught his bottom lip between his teeth, nibbling worriedly.

                Minhyuk reached across the desk to pick up the old fashioned picture of Hakyeon and Wonshik and his face tightened in memory.  There was another one right beside it, with Hakyeon and Taekwoon but they all felt the previous pilot’s absence.  “You’re not having nightmares anymore, are you?” he asked hesitantly, clearly treading on delicate ground.

                Hakyeon laughed without mirth and shook his head once in negation.  He wasn’t dreaming much at all of late.  If anything, he slept like the dead but never felt rested.  “Not for at least a month now.”

                He blinked when the picture was set down, clicking softly on the glass desktop just above where he pulled the documents up to review.  “How is he doing?” Minhyuk smiled, tracing his fingertips against the wooden frame of the other image.

                At last.  A subject Hakyeon could be happy about.  “He’s making progress,” he beamed, the expression taking years off his face for those few seconds.  “I’ve seen him focusing more.  There’s strength returning in his hands.  And he’s trying to talk!” he practically flailed, giddy with that latest development.  They were hardly worthy of being called words but any sort of vocalization was better than the relative silence he’d been facing for months.  “Hongbin agrees too and I trust him more than those docs I have to confer with through the company.”  Damn insurance concerns.

                “How long’s he been home again?” Minhyuk smiled, settling in place more comfortably as he watched Hakyeon come alive with the topic of their conversation.

                Happily, the seated male warmed to the subject and leaned forward, elbow nudging Minhyuk’s thigh in the process when he set the coffee down.  “We’re going on four months now.  And he’s come such a long way!  Even Hyuk and Ken have noticed it the couple times they’ve come by.”  Slender fingers slid together, gripping hard to keep from trembling.

                They hadn’t said as much outright but neither had they denied it either.  His parents wouldn’t say anything against his hope and Taekwoon’s father took everything in stride with the same stoicism his son exhibited.  Hakyeon knew the fact of the matter was that it appeared things had leveled out and Taekwoon wasn’t getting better, but he refused to believe that.  It was just really slow progress and besides, sometimes things stalled before progress could be made.  Minhyuk told him that often enough the few times he’d tried to join his physical training regiment.  Before he knew how intense the shorter man was about working out anyway.

                A warm hand settled in place over his and he looked up to meet Minhyuk’s eyes, cringing on the inside preemptively.  He knew that look.  “Maybe he needs a little more help than you can give him by yourself.”  Hakyeon pulled his hands away and sat back in his chair, expression tense.  “I mean, you’ve done a wonderful job up to this point,” Minhyuk reassured, gesturing with his hand between them.

                “Min, don’t,” Hakyeon sighed, fixing his gaze on the picture of him and Taekwoon together.

                “I’m just saying you’ve been getting more worn down since he’s been home with you,” he pressed gently.

                “Of course I’m tired!” Hakyeon snapped back, huffing once.

                “I’m just worried about you,” his friend admitted, standing up so he could squeeze the nearest shoulder.  “Both of you.”

                Minhyuk’s grip was gentle but it still felt inordinately strong and Hakyeon wanted to cry for the disparity between them.  He really did feel drained of late and there was no obvious reason for it.  Not that anyone would believe anyway.  If anyone heard him even mention the possibility of Wonshik as a ghost, they’d probably put him on medication, have him mentally examined, or worse, take Taekwoon from him.  Maybe all of the above.  And that still didn’t explain why he was tired unless Wonshik was responsible, because there was no other explanation.  But that didn’t make sense either.  The specter didn’t want to hurt him, right?  It was still Wonshik after all…

                He exhaled and slumped forward, resting his elbows on the desk again so he could cradle his head in his hands, rubbing at his hairline.  “There’s nothing wrong with me,” he whispered, repeating what the doctors had already told him the past couple times he’d been.  He was emotionally drained because it was hard being around Taekwoon and not seeing many signs of improvement, but he wasn’t physically ill like his symptoms would have indicated.  Nor was there any sign of chemical imbalance in his brain so mental issues were out of the question, other than the expected stress and borderline depression flags, given the nature of his predicament.

                The weary sigh clearly indicated Minhyuk didn’t believe that in its entirety, but neither did he say anything.  He just rubbed his hand against Hakyeon’s back, a quiet, supportive presence.  Glass scraped minutely against glass and he murmured, “Here.  Finish this and I’ll get you another.”

                “Thanks,” Hakyeon sniffed, gripping the mostly full mug in his hands again, enjoying the soothing warmth against his palms.

                “Are you sure you can handle this?” Minhyuk asked, shifting to lean against the back of Hakyeon’s shoulders with his arm.

                “Yeah,” Hakyeon nodded reassuringly, taking a sip of coffee just so he wouldn’t have to keep speaking.

                “Ugh,” the shorter male groaned, carefully hugging Hakyeon from behind.  “You’re such a stubborn, mother hen.  You know that?”

                Hakyeon had to laugh at the description and he nodded.  “If I’m the mother hen, what does that make you?” he teased, glancing at the young man from the corner of his eye.

                “Your handsome, worried friend,” Minhyuk responded, making a face in Hakyeon’s periphery before he peeled himself away and stepped to the side of the desk again.

                “You forgot short,” he teased without malice, smiling harder at the slight glare he got in return.  Sure Minhyuk was shorter, but he could kick Hakyeon’s any day of the week and they both knew it.

                “Seriously.  Finish that,” the standing male pointed at the still steaming, black liquid.  “I’ll get you some more,” Minhyuk nodded along with his words.  “And we’ll see if we can’t get you through the rest of this day without passing out at work.”

                “It’s a deal,” Hakyeon smiled, his expression subdued but genuine.  For a second, he wasn’t sure Minhyuk was going to leave him alone but then he reluctantly walked away, waving at someone else as he did so.

                With his friend out of sight once more, Hakyeon slumped over the desk again, gaze passing across the digital screen with irritation.  He left the coffee on the surface and wiped at his face, opening his eyes wide and blinking away the tears that came as a result.  “I can do this,” he whispered, glancing between the two pictures evenly.

~~~~~~

                The teleporter dimmed as Hakyeon stepped off the platform, already ing his uniformed shirt while he moved.  “Taekwoonie!  I’m home,” he exhaled, weary with exhaustion from the day and what felt like never enough sleep.

                Like always, he paused to see if there would be a response but nodded anyway when there wasn’t.  The shirt fell away, revealing a plain white one beneath.  Mechanically, Hakyeon hung the gray material on the back of his chair and shuffled across the kitchen so he could look in the cupboards, touching the opaque panes with his fingers.  Upon contact, they became translucent, allowing him to see the contents which only made him wrinkle his nose.

                Absolutely nothing he wanted to cook.  He knew that was as good a sign as any he was getting worn down more than he cared to admit, but he really could handle it.  He’d gone this long already.  What was just a little more time?

                His palms pressed against the corner of the counter and he exhaled, fingertips digging into the edge.  “What if it’s not for just a little while longer?”

                Disgusted with himself as soon as the question passed his lips, Hakyeon pushed away and hurried down the hall, ignoring the chill that besieged him as soon as he got through the kitchen.  Still, they’d been getting more frequent recently and the lingering effect made him pull up short before he got to their shared room.  Hakyeon paused to look back with his bottom lip caught between his teeth, uncertain.  “Wonshik?” he murmured, placing his hand against the wall to steady himself.  There was no sight of the specter he knew was still present but the chill remained, making it hard for Hakyeon to breathe for a moment.

                It took real effort for him to make his feet move again and only when he stepped into their bedroom where Taekwoon was seated did he feel a sense of relief from the cold.  The lingering chill had been getting stronger lately and Hakyeon wasn’t sure he liked it…  Before, it had brought a sense of comfort and reassurance, knowing that Wonshik was still there.  But now, there was something unsettling about it.  About him.  Without a word, he stole across the distance and enfolded the mute man in his arms, hugging him from behind.  Hakyeon leaned on Taekwoon harder than usual while the screen in front continued to play, the sound low but audible.

                “Hey baby,” Hakyeon whispered, breathing deep and filling his senses with all that was Taekwoon, trying to revitalize his failing reserves.

                The screen clicked off and he looked up to see that Taekwoon’s fingers were hovering over the controls on his chair.  He’d regained enough ability to do that much at least, but typing or writing at all was out of the question.  Neural pathways were slow to regenerate when diminished by space sickness and borderline death from insufficient stasis measures, and the doctors had yet to develop a better cure other than exorbitant, risky trial medicines and time.  Transplants were also currently impossible due to the sensitive nature of the brain and how it worked though it was rumored human trials would be possible in another couple years.

                But it was more than he had been able to do before and for that, Hakyeon was grateful.  Especially since in some recorded cases, the victims never recovered.  In fewer ones still, the patients improved rapidly, returning to their full capacity in weeks or months.  But the vast majority took years to come back, and that prospect was daunting, but it carried a sliver of hope Hakyeon clung to with all the tenacity he had in his body.

                “Did Eunkwang take good care of you today?” he hummed, gaze trained on Taekwoon’s eyes.  The other man looked at Hakyeon and very slowly rolled his eyes.  “I see,” Hakyeon chuckled.  “That good indeed.”

                He was well aware the personal attendant irritated the living mess out of Taekwoon when he came by but he was ersely hoping it would make the other man react or do something.  On the other side of that though, he really was very good at taking care of him when Hakyeon couldn’t which was part of the reason he’d selected just one aid instead of the merry-go-round of people it had been before.  Someone had to pay the bills and he could only accept help from their family members for so long; not to mention he could only fend off their constant pity but for so long.  It was also cheaper than putting Taekwoon in a facility, which he was dead set against anyway.  Hakyeon was convinced being home was better for his recovery and he would stand by it as long as he needed to.

                “I’m glad,” he admitted, stepping around so he could kneel and rest his head in Taekwoon’s lap, fists balled on top of the diminished thighs.  Tired tears seeped from unblinking eyes, staining the other man’s pants.  The cold chill settled in again and he hunched closer to Taekwoon trying to get away from it.  “I wish none of this had ever happened.”

                A garbled groan emerged from Taekwoon’s throat.

                Hakyeon nodded but didn’t look up upon hearing the sound uttered over the span of several seconds.  Taekwoon had begun trying to form words the previous month, stringing sounds together in an eerie similarity to the undead from those films in the late twentieth and early twenty first century, but his progression had stalled again, remaining fairly monosyllabic in nature.  Even more so than he had been when healthy, to be honest.

                “We should have found you sooner,” he huffed, twisting the fabric of Taekwoon’s pants while he closed his eyes.

                Another unintelligible grumble that sounded frustrated.

                “And I damn well should have listened to Hyuk that day!” he lamented sourly, taking a shuddering breath.

                “Captain.”

                “Yes, Hyuk?” Hakyeon hummed distractedly, tracking their progression home while also keeping an eye on Taekwoon’s condition in the medical bay.  He was comatose but alive and that was better than he’d had any right to hope for.

                “I don’t know what it is but there’s some sort of fluctuation in the engine readings,” he explained with vague concern.

                “Can you pin it down?” the Captain asked in return, diverting his attention from the controls to focus more on his engineer.  He was young but Sanghyuk came from a family of engineers, some of whom had helped get the first generation Rovix off the ground in the early years.  While not a mechanical genius, he knew the ins and outs of a ship.

                “No sir.  It’s within acceptable levels and- Oh.  It’s returned to normal again,” he explained, still slightly perplexed.

                “Good then,” Hakyeon murmured, his attention drifting to Taekwoon’s readings once more.

                “I’m not sure, Captain.  I’d like to message home base to see if they can identify the glitch with me,” he persisted, hesitating about overstepping his position.

                “Do you think we can make it to the next stop without any trouble?” he asked pointedly, knowing the sooner they got back, the sooner they could get Taekwoon checked in and treated.

                “I mean… probably,” the engineer admitted without confidence.  “But I don’t know-”

                “Just keep an eye on it for now, Hyuk.  Let me know if anything changes and we’ll deal with it then,” he explained, motioning at Wonshik to stay the course.

                “Aye Captain,” Hyuk trailed off, ending the call.

                A thin groan behind him made Hakyeon turn to spy Ken, his communications officer.  “I don’t know, Captain.  It’s best not to push our luck with things like that,” he shrugged, looking at Wonshik to see if the other man would back him up.

                “If we need to set down, there’s a moon a couple light years ahead,” Wonshik nodded towards the front, keeping one hand near the controls while the other rested on the back of his chair easily.

                “See?” Hakyeon chirped, feeling vindicated in his decision.

                It really hadn’t been his best idea.  If he’d have let Hyuk call home to confirm, someone would have realized it was a connection going faulty because of a very subtle fluctuation in power distribution from the engine core to the rest of the ship.  Normally, it wouldn’t have been a problem either and a standard post run diagnostics test would have detected it in a day, but he had wanted to get back so bad.  The extra pressure on Wonshik to keep going had repercussions none of them could have predicted at the time.  That did not alleviate him of the guilt for his decision though.  Not by a long shot.

                A warm hand gently pressed against the back of his shoulder and he sighed, settling further against Taekwoon.  “It’s my fault he’s gone and you’re like this,” Hakyeon whispered, more than capable of watching the scene unfold behind his closed eyelids.

                The ship shuddered and lurched, sending everyone on board flying.

                “She’s going down!” Wonshik cried from the helm, hands gripping the backup manual controls when the computer stopped responding.

                “I can’t fix it, Captain!” Hyuk shrieked from the engine room, voice panicked and high.

                “Emergency beacon activated!”  Ken’s feet pounded on the metal deck as he stumbled towards Hakyeon, unable to remain steady on the bucking floor.

                “All hands!  Brace for impact!” Hakyeon commanded, fingers gripping the arms of his chair hard enough to break the skin.

                Metal keened and the earth exploded at their impact when Wonshik crash landed them on the moon he had pointed out for a safe haven previously.  Dazed, Hakyeon shook his head and activated the com on his person.  “Report!”

                “Engine’s unstable, sir,” Hyuk groaned in warning while the emergency signal blared overhead.  “I would jettison the core-” he coughed, unable to continue for a second.  “But everything’s dead.”

                “Suggestion?” Hakyeon urged, getting to wobbly feet so he could check on the semiconscious Ken and a bruised Wonshik.

                “Abandon ship, sir,” the engineer stated firmly with no hint of hesitation this time.

                A cold chill went through Hakyeon and he waved at Wonshik to help Ken.  “Get him out of here,” he hissed, hitting his com again for the medical officer.  “Hongbin.  Take Taekwoon and get off the ship!”

                “I can’t sir!” Hongbin practically wailed over the com.  Before Hakyeon could ask why, he went on, “Taekwoon’s stasis pod is jammed and I can’t get him out!”

                Fear turned the Captain’s innards to ice.  “I’m coming down,” he announced, already moving.

                Wonshik’s hand caught his wrist before he’d made it two steps and the young man shook his head.  “It’s too dangerous.”

                “Navigator Wonshik.  I am giving you a direct order.  Abandon ship,” Hakyeon growled through his teeth, keeping his arm tense as he continued to try and pull away.

                For a long few seconds, Wonshik glared back at him but he finally let go and hefted Ken over his shoulder when the other man was still unresponsive.  “If you’re not out in sixty seconds, I’m coming back in for you,” he warned, already moving.

                It was all the time he thought he’d need.  Hakyeon had never moved through his ship so fast, navigating dark corridors by sparks of light and memory alone.  “Hongbin!”

                “Captain!  It’s no use!” the medical officer cried, clawing at the casing holding Taekwoon’s unconscious body futilely.

                “Get out of here!” Hakyeon ordered, pulling the taller man aside to take his place.  “I’ve got this,” he promised, searching for some sort of leverage while he felt as if a bomb was counting down all around him.

                “But sir…”

                “Trust me!” Hakyeon urged, starting to beat the glass with his elbow to try and break it so he could at least pull Taekwoon out that way.

                He felt Hongbin hesitate, unwilling to leave him behind.  But then Wonshik was there, appearing as if by magic.  “Go!” the navigation officer urged, shoving Hongbin the way he’d come.  Heavy footfalls announced his exit and then he was beside the Captain, hands on his arms firmly.

                “No!  I’m not leaving him!” Hakyeon howled, beating on the glass with his fists.

                “Move, you fool,” Wonshik hissed, dragging Hakyeon to the side before he snatched a piece of piping from the torn wall and yanked, prying the metal free to use as an improved lever. Or bat.

                The lever idea failed, unable to gain purchase to crank the door open, but already weakened glass shattered under the sharp, hard edge and together, Wonshik and Hakyeon pulled Taekwoon’s limp body free.  He was still heavy then, muscle mass mostly intact and as dead weight, even harder to handle.

                “Go!” Wonshik urged from the rear where he could carry Taekwoon’s feet.

                Neither of them were prepared for the preliminary explosion from the engine room.  The blast caught Wonshik first, throwing him against the wall from the force of the shock wave and heat.  It was enough to bowl Hakyeon backwards too, awkwardly landing under Taekwoon’s body.

                “Captain!”

                The fools had actually come back for them.  Hands grabbed at him and Taekwoon, dragging hard.  “Wonshik!” he gasped, pointing back towards the ship.

                “I’ve got him!” Hongbin cried, leaving Hyuk to get Hakyeon on his feet while the younger male took Taekwoon and started dragging.

                “Come on, sir!” he urged, hauling for all he was worth.

                His memory was fuzzy then.  The rest of that time went by in a blur.  Hakyeon remembered panic and pain.  He could still feel fear and hear Hongbin screaming in the background.  ‘Come on, Wonshik!  Stabilize, dammit!’  He might have passed out at some point but he wasn’t sure because he also thought he’d seen Wonshik then too, but Hongbin had said the pilot died in the first explosion.  The second howled in memory as if from a distance, resonating painfully but dim in recollection.  He couldn’t have seen him then.  Or he hadn’t passed out and he was just confused.

                The gentle of a smooth palm against his back grounded him in the present once more and Hakyeon finally opened his eyes to look up at Taekwoon’s frowning face.  “I’m sorry, Taekwoonie,” he whispered, sitting back on his heels and wiping hastily at his eyes.  “You’re probably ready for dinner and here I am, being a mess,” he laughed at himself, the sound hollow and forced.

                He paused in confusion when Taekwoon’s eyes looked over his head, expression tense.  The sound of what could only be a growl rumbled from his throat and his gaze turned hard.

                “Taekwoonie?” Hakyeon murmured, gut clenching when a cold sensation hovered at his back, more solid and substantial than should have been possible.  He inhaled softly as Taekwoon’s lips peeled back to partially bare his teeth at something.  Ghostly hands settled on Hakyeon’s shoulders and he tensed up, eyes widening when the sensation felt real.  “Won… shik?” he whispered, turning to look over his shoulder.

                A shadow flickered in the edge of his vision and Hakyeon gasped at the dark outline.  Taekwoon’s growl intensified.  Cold continued to seep in, leeching his strength and thought.

                “What…?” he managed to say before the shadow engulfed him, casting Hakyeon into darkness while Taekwoon’s angry growl followed.