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Ashes stumbled out into the hall, swiping away the tears in their eyes. It was just a nightmare. It was just a dream, but they were going to see Brian anyway.
On nights like this, when they woke up sweating, breathing heavy, they always went to Brian. He was the only member of the crew that wouldn’t insist they tell him what was wrong. They could just mumble out a “ ‘ightmare.” and crawl into his arms.
They’d end up telling him, eventually, but not always all of it. Ashes kept their secrets close to their chest. It was a habit from the Sevens days, or maybe the orphanage days, or maybe something long before that.
It drove their crew mad, especially a certain few members, but it was for their protection. Ashes reminded themself of this as they closed their door behind them, running grateful tips of their fingers along Aurora’s walls.
It was for their protection, because Ashes was their voice of reason. Their stable point. Ashes fought off the tears welling in their eyes. Gods, they always had to be the strong one.
Except– except with Brian.
The drumbot didn’t need protection. He didn’t need them to be strong all the time, or constantly in control. He didn’t even need an explanation.
Ashes debated, for a moment, as they passed the corridor to the library. Ivy was also someone they could go to usually, and this kind of dream might be good to talk to her about. But Ashes didn’t hear any movement inside the library, and Ivy could be very disoriented when she first woke up, and Ashes was very tired, so they continued plodding to Brian’s room.
They had been sleeping badly lately, unable to get to sleep or stay asleep, or feel well-rested when they woke up. They weren’t sure what it was.
It’d been a long time since the Mechanisms had made landfall, and Ashes could feel the restlessness building up in the crew. Everyone had been… tense… lately, especially, well. A certain few crew members.
It wasn’t a big deal, except that it was, and Ashes had been running damage control constantly for weeks. They were tired. And stressed. Hence, the nightmare.
Their head swam unreasonably, and Ashes remembered how long it had been since they had had a proper night of sleep. Ashes put a hand out on the wall, steadying themselves.
The world stilled, and they pushed themselves off the wall, preparing to turn the corner into the hall with Brian’s quarters. Instead, they turned the corner and ran headlong into a very shaky Jonny.
“Christ, Jonny–” They pulled the first mate off their chest, and one look at his wild, red eyes made their heart sink. Time to be strong again, I suppose.
“A- Ashes,” he said, his voice shaking. “Where are you going?” He was forcing bravado into his voice, trying to seem more stable than he was. Ashes could see right through it.
“I’m–”
“Ashes, you look like shit.” The shakiness was still in his voice, but there was another tone to it, one Ashes didn’t hear very often.
Did they look like shit? Their hand went to their hair instinctively. They didn’t think it was matted, at least, it shouldn’t have been. Then they remembered they’d been crying and they became suddenly aware of the eyeliner remnants and dried tear tracks on their cheeks.
“I’m fine,” they said curtly, hoping to prevent further inquisition. “What’s going on with you? You’re a mess.”
“Oh, okay, sure,’ Jonny replied. “I’m fine too. In fact, I’m so fine, I’m not going to Brian’s room because of a nightmare.”
Shit. As much as they hated to admit it, Ashes might not have been as stonewalled and enigmatic as they thought. Jonny knew them far too well for comfort.
Something in their face must have given them away, because Jonny grinned. It was pained, and he was clearly on the verge of tears himself, but banter was comfortable to them both.
“I knew it,” the cocky bastard announced.
“I’m…” Ashes tried to hold their voice steady, tried to keep up some part of the façade. They failed, miserably, voice cracking badly in the middle of their sentence. "Just checking on him,” they finished pathetically, which somehow made them feel worse.
Jonny winced at the suffocated pleading in their voice, and Ashes was swallowed in guilt. He was so clearly in more distress than them– they should be pulling themselves together, helping him. Gods, were they really this useless? This incapable?
“I was going to see him too,” Jonny confessed in a small voice. “I… I had a nightmare too.” Tears welled up in his eyes. “I’m sorry,” he told them furiously. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry.”
Ashes wanted to scream at him for being a mess right when they were just getting to collapse, but more than that, they wanted to pull him close and hold him. It was strange, how love and exhaustion could war inside a person.
“Don’t be sorry,” they comforted him, trying to keep the exasperation out of their voice. They meant it, really, but gods, they were so sick of everyone’s bullshit.
It didn’t matter. They had to do their job now. Ashes slid down onto the ground, patting the spot on the floor beside them. Jonny sniffled, sitting down beside them and leaning his head on their shoulder.
“What did you dream about?” they ask. Hopefully it won’t be too hard to pull it out of him. They’re tired.
Somehow, Jonny must know Ashes doesn’t want to fight for an answer. “Just… one of the mix-up ones, y’know? Where all the horrible things blur together and it just sucks.”
“Yeah,” Ashes agreed, softly. Jonny looked at them, and Ashes would see him trying to puzzle them out. They were not telling him, no matter how many ways he asked.
“There was… well… there was my father.” Jonny inhaled deeply. “There was Tim, you know, and the doc, and, well, you, and then there was no one at all.”
Ashes nodded along. It sounded like one of a million dreams Jonny had on a regular basis. Montages of people being angry at him, probably calling him a useless burden and all that. Jonny leaned in further to their chest and the pressure of his head in their ribcage made their heart rate spike.
Jonny heard it, pulling away concerned. “Ashes, are you okay? Your heart—”
Ashes tried to calm their breathing, pushing air rhythmically out of their metal lungs. It was fine, they could breathe. “I’m fine.”
“Your heart does not sound fine.”
“Jonny, leave it alone.”
He frowned sceptically at them, but did as he was told, leaning his head back onto the chest.
They felt a stinging in the corner of their eyes and blinked repeatedly. For a moment, they could swear that tendrils of smoke were curling into the hallway, but then their vision cleared. The world felt vaguely separate from their body.
Abruptly, they felt a warm droplet of liquid run down to their chin. They swiped at it roughly, sniffling. Jonny lifted his head and internally, they cursed.
“Ashes? Are you crying?” He sounded deeply unsettled, and Ashes realized he had probably only seen them cry a few times in the millenia they’d known each other.
“Nah,” they replied, voice scratchy, trying to play it off. “I’m fine.”
“Ashes..”
They stood up abruptly, dislodging their first mate. “I want to talk to Brian.” The corners of the hallway were starting to feel sharp and blurry at once, and it felt like the world followed a few seconds behind whenever their head moved. Jonny started saying something to them but they walked, robotically, towards Brian’s door.
“Aurora,” they said, shakily. “Can you let me in?” Brian and Ashes had an unspoken agreement that they were always allowed in each other’s rooms, something Aurora seemed to know. The door slid open with a comforting hiss, the keypad glowing a warm pink. Ashes pressed a shaky hand to it in acknowledgment, slightly comforted by the metal’s surprising warmth. For a ship, Aurora could be very kind.
“How’d you do that?” Jonny asked, disgruntled. He’d popped up next to Ashes. “Aurora doesn’t let me into people’s rooms like that.”
Ashes did not answer him, their hypervigilant ears picking up on a small noise from inside Brian’s room. They grabbed Jonny by his arm, ignoring his hiss of surprise as they pulled him into the room. Brian was not in his bed, but Ashes could hear slight whimpering coming from the other side of the room.
They dropped Jonny’s arm and leaned anxiously into the dark. “Brian?” They asked, frantically, to the lightless room.
“Ashes?” The familiar timbre of the pilot’s voice was pain-striken and fearful. Ashes ran to the opposite side of the bed, where they found the drumbot curled up on the floor. Jonny followed close behind, looking scared and lost.
“Brian, what’s wrong?” Ashes dropped to their knees next to their beloved crewmate, who had his eyes closed tight, pain written across his features.
“Ashes,” he said, eyes opening slightly before he closed them tightly again. “Ashes.” The relief in his voice was practically smellable. Brian’s hands were clenched tight around the knee that was tucked into his chest. Ashes tried to detangle one of them and hold it, but the man let out a strangled whimper.
Jonny stepped closer, leaning in. “Brian, is your knee fucked up?”
Brian nodded, eyes still squeezed shut and teeth gritted together. Shit. Ashes was incompetent with machinery. They turned to Jonny, their eyes wide and watery. He looked as visibly scared as they did.
“Do we get Nastya?” they asked.
“I don’t know where she is,” he confessed.
“T- top d- drawer,” Brian choked out.
“What?” Ashes asked. “Brian, that makes no sense, Nastya wouldn’t–”
“Look,” he choked out. The pain woven into his voice was almost too much for Ashes to bear. Their hands were shaking horribly and their vision was fully blurred at the edges. They suddenly became aware of Jonny standing behind them.
“Go fucking look,” they bit at him, head snapping in his direction. His eyes watered but he nodded and rushed over to the dresser, returning with a small metal box. He sat down next to Ashes and Brian and opened it, revealing a small collection of tools and metal lubricant.
Brian uncurled his hands from around his knee, revealing something that made Ashes’ heart drop. The joint of his knee had a layer of oxidized metal peeled back, and a wire poked out.
“Oh,” Ashes said, terrified.
“I can fix this,” Jonny announced. Ashes looked at him sceptically.
“I was there when the doc made him,” he reminded them. “I didn’t want to be–” Here he shivered– “But I was.” Ashes nodded, shakily, and stepped aside.
“We need to get him sitting,” Jonny said. Ashes nodded, using all their strength to tilt Brian’s torso off the floor. The drumbot let out a loose sob, but he propped himself up with his arm and leaned against the bedframe, legs bent in front of him. Ashes ran a hand through his hair, the oil of his tears collecting on their hands.
They went to the bathroom for a towel to wipe his cheeks with, and let Jonny get to work. Soft white cloth in hand, they froze at the glance of themselves in the mirror. There were faint scratches all over their neck, one of them bleeding slightly. It wasn’t unknown for them to scratch their skin when stressed, but it was unusual for them to draw blood or not notice.
They ran a hand over the bleeding scratch, taking a moment to wash it clean in the sink. Ashes drew in a shaky breath, staring at their red-rimmed eyes in the mirror. A loud moan of pain from the other room hit their ears, reminding them of the ongoing crisis.
Ashes returned to the room, finding an intensely focused Jonny and a Brian in copious amounts of visible pain. They laid down on the bed, blotting at the pilot’s face with a towel and stroking his hair. Eventually, Jonny set down the tools, looking relieved.
“Does that feel right?” he asked Brian nervously. The robot took a shaky hand to the first mate's face and pulled his face closer, touching their foreheads together. The moment was so intensely tender that Ashes felt distinctly like they were interrupting.
“Thank you,” Brian whispered. Jonny smiled, sniffling.
“How’d you even do that, anyways?”
Brian’s voice was creaky when he replied, but the pain had left it. “I was waiting for Nastya to repair the plating, but the wire must have gotten dislodged when I was sleeping.”
“Stupid robot,” Jonny said, lovingly, with a voice laced with tears.
Brian smiled, taking his face away from Jonny’s and turning his head towards Ashes. “What are you two doing here?”
“I had… I had a bad dream and I ran into Jonny on the way here.” Ashes did not make eye contact with either of them, staring intently at the open toolbox behind Jonny’s body.
“I can see that,” Brian said, running a silicone fingertip of the scratches on Ashes’ neck. Tears sprang to their eyes at the tenderness of the touch and Brian made a soft noise in the back of his throat.
Jonny was the first to move, lifting his body off the ground and onto the bed next to Ashes to curl around them. Brian followed suit, moving onto the bed and pulling his crewmates up into his arms.
“Come here, you two,” he said. “We’re all fine now.”
The solid bass of his voice reverberated through Ashes, and they gave into the sobs clawing at their chest. Tears flowed freely down their cheeks and they became vaguely aware of Jonny sniffling next to them in Brian’s arms. They wrapped a hand around him, pulling their dog in closer.
Brian began softly humming, the metal of his chest warming under Jonny and Ashes’ bodies. The three of them fell asleep a little while later, safe and warm and exhausted in each other’s arms.