-Shipwrecked- (Sci-fi, open)

[Jeydon]

"Thank you," Icarus responded gratefully, sinking into a chair he had brought into the shelter in the event that he needed to take a break during the surgery. Staring at the monitors until his eyes couldn't remain open any longer, Icarus sunk into a deep sleep within minutes.

[☪ℓυηαя∂яσρ☪]

Rikimaru sat down, resting their chin on their hands. Inhaling deeply, they watched Reinen's inert form underneath the blankets. Taking note of any movement of his chest to indicate breathing, they narrowed their eyes. Humming a quiet note to themself, they performed their usual pastime- thinking.
What were they going to do? Would this fate become all of them?
No, they couldn't allow themself to think like that. Certainly they would be able to pull the crew through. Their life, they had been through so much that to have it all end here didn't really make sense. Too... anticlimactic.
They would make this work. Nobody would die here.

[Jeydon]

Much to Icarus' relief, dreams plagued him not as he slept. He did, however, encounter several bouts of drifting thought in lighter instances of his sleep. These thoughts tended to center around the recent events that had occurred, namely the crash and Reinen's surgery, however a few recollections of his life on earth and childhood slipped in.
Icarus was unsure of how long he slept, however when he awoke, nothing much seemed to have changed on the monitors. Reinen's vitals had steadied, though, and that was quite a relief.

[☪ℓυηαя∂яσρ☪]

Riki's thoughts had long since drifted to a different topic; the sensation of Reinen's lips against theirs.
They closed their eyes for a moment, lost in memory. Reinen's hand agains their cheek and his sweet mouth against theirs. They had never kissed anyone before but now that they had they knew they had been missing out significantly. The memory alone made them want to swoon, but Riki did not swoon. It was not in their nature, that wasn't how they worked.
Regardless, it was a strange sensation. They weren't sure if they liked it or not.
But none of that would matter if he died here. They were curious, wanted to see this through and explore the possibilities ahead of them.
They glanced over at Icarus as he awoke and blinked. Perhaps they should sleep as well... But in all honesty they were not looking forward to the nightmares that plagued them in sleep.
Sometimes the dreams would be of monsters; grotesque humanoid contortions of bodies and flesh. Other times they were experiencing an onslaught of groping touch, invasions of privacy and lack of control.
The monsters and the body horror were the worst, though. The vivid imagery -for Riki did not dream lightly- stuck with them in the waking world. They remembered the horrid texture of the abomination's flesh, the putrid smell of pus and bile, and the sickening sounds of wet and sticky movement.
They scrunched their eyes shut for a moment. Stop thinking about it. It didn't happen. They tried to reassure themself but didn't have much luck. Their mind had already raced ahead to their most recent nightmare, and before Riki could relive it, the thoughts were shut down forcefully. They refused to recall those nightmares. When they were little they would go to their parent's room and cuddle with them throughout the night, but they couldnt do that now. Not only were they in space, and stranded at that, but they were an adult. They had to be stronger than that. They weren't some scared ltitle kid, they were a stoic adult.
Strong.
Composed.
Not about to cry.
They forced their breathing to stay even, could feel their eyes burning but kept them shut for fear of releasing tears. They weren't crying, but man were they close. They reached down and stroked Monty across his back, feeling the companionship soothing.
Animals had always helped Rikimaru calm down. Despite how they presented themself, they knew deep down that they were a pretty anxious person. With the past that they had, having been bullied and abused, they felt they had a right to be.
They always had preferred animals to humans. Except snakes; screw snakes. But animals didn't let emotion overcome them, didn't hate for no reason, and never said hurtful things. Not to mention that animals also were just cooler than people in general.

Monty wiggled his non-existent tail. He loved getting attention from his owner, though he could sense that something was troubling his master.

[Jeydon]

The vitals were a good sign. Even if Reinen's condition was deteriorating, his vitals remaining steady meant he wasn't in any immediate danger. Having been trapped within the confines of the shelter for quite some time, Icarus decided it was time he familiarized himself with the planet a bit more. After checking his patient's vitals yet again, and adjusting some medications out of paranoia, Icarus stepped out of the shelter, and into the alien sunlight.
The doctor's eyes adjusted to the light quickly, and he moved away from the shelter and its immediate surroundings. With no precise plan as to where he was headed, Icarus found himself simply walking - walking away.
Away from the shelter.
Away from the wreckage of the ship.
Away from his companions.
Away from everything that would remind him of the reality of his situation.

Having walked for several minutes, Icarus was now a considerable distance from his crewmates. The terrain was rather sporadic, dotted with a multitude of hills. The tall grasses at Icarus feet rippled and swayed episodically, like waves moving gently across a lake. This steady movement, combined with the near absolute silence of the environment, provided a sense of calm to Icarus. Just for a moment, Icarus was able to slip away, and forget that any of the recent events had ever happened.

"Who are you? Why are you here?" A young Icarus, of a mere thirteen years of age, inquired. His cautious tone was tainted with hints of curiosity as he spoke.
"The better question, my boy, is why are you here? Who are you?"
The man was an elderly one, with medium brown skin, a stark contrast to the young boy's pale skin, as though he were from middle eastern descent. Thin, white hairs dotted his scalp, not in an abundance, though in a quantity enough to give him the appearance of a rather full head of hair. These same white hairs coated his lower face, forming into a rather respectable beard, that fell to around his chest. The man was not a tall one, but not a short one at that, either. He rested against a lone tree amidst the pale, hazel-green grass, wearing a simple, off-white tunic and loose, white pants, as though he were a martial-arts master. Whether he indeed was remained a mystery to the boy.
"I..." Icarus was at a loss for words.
"Not as simple questions as they sound, are they? Why are you here, my boy? Why this far from what must be your home?"
"I was looking for my sister," Icarus offered hesitantly, slightly intimidated by this strange man.
"Were you? Were you really? It seems to me, that from your apparent lack of ability to answer the other question, you may have been searching for something else. Let me ask you, my dear child, do you really know who you are? Or, just possibly, could who you were seeking out here have really been... yourself?"
"I know who I am. I'm Icarus."
The man let out a short chuckle, "And you see, my boy, that is what makes me so sure you don't."
"My name is Icarus Fverilin. I'm the son of Marcus Fverilin and Saga Creos. I was born on August 12th. I'm thirteen. I -"
"No, no," The man held up his hand in a gesture to silence the boy, "Those are the facts. I'm not talking about the facts. I'm talking about you. Who are you? What is your passion? What makes you fight? What do you believe in? What are you going to do with your life? Who do you want to become? When you wake up in the morning, what makes you get up? What drives you forward, and reminds you to slow down when you're taking life too quickly? Who are you really, beneath all those meaningless facts?"
Icarus took a moment to reply, considering the strange man's words.
"Well, I... I suppose I'm just an ordinary human, like everyone else. I... I don't know. Does it really matter? Can't we just be, without having to worry about those things?"
"It is as I thought," The man responded, his tone grave, "You, like so many others before you, know not who you really are. Come here, young one. Let me tell you a tale."
The young Icarus approached the man cautiously, and took a seat on the grass beside him, hugging his knees loosely. He turned to look at the man, and -
Blood.
Death.
The man, once smiling, lay sprawled on the ground beside the boy. Blood leaked from multiple lacerations across the man's corpse, staining his clothes, and the grass, a sickening shade of crimson.
The boy screamed.

Icarus froze, ceasing his slow, reminiscent stride. No. It wasn't supposed to be like that. What had happened? It hadn't gone like that. The man was alive, somewhere, and that visit was only the first of many visits Icarus had made to him. It didn't make any sense... Why had his memory gone wrong?

Icarus cast a sweeping glance across the plain, confusion heavy across his features. He was slightly disoriented, having been lost in the depths of his memory as he walked, however that was not what concerned him. Never before had the doctor experienced a distortion of his memory that severe. He had struggled to recall things at times, yes, however in this instance, he knew what had happened next. He knew how the scene had played out and that... That wasn't how it had ended. Icarus knew, definitively, that the man who he had met that day had not died that day.
Icarus glanced down at his feet for a moment, pondering what he had seen within his mind. It shouldn't have bothered him so much, yet it did. Never before had his memory failed him in such a way.
The doctor shook his head harshly in an attempt to clear it, looking back up. He turned briskly, and started swiftly back in the direction he thought to be leading back to the shelter. A sudden impact with his foot halted his stride, and sent him hurtling forward. Walking so quickly, Icarus had failed to notice the rock at his feet, which he had ultimately tripped over.

The man hit the earth in a jarring impact, and lay there, splayed out, for a moment. It was fortunate that he had landed on no more than earth, and had likely suffered no head injury. Icarus took a moment to come to his senses and orient himself, before lifting his head to see where he had landed.
The grass was scarlet - the same shade of crimson that had coated the grass in his distorted memory, yet this time, it wasn't limited to just one spot. The whole plain seemed to have taken on a bloody tint.
Icarus inhaled sharply, eyes going wide with shock as he stared at the darkened terrain before him. The doctor squeezed his eyes shut, and re-opened them, in hopes of the vision disappearing. Instead, the hallucination only worsened, and before him a horrifyingly familiar sight appeared.
Scattered across the moor were countless bodies - some corpses, and some desperate, pleading men and women. Their cries seemed horribly real to the doctor, ringing out through the air. They were screeches of pain, and pleas for mercy. Some of this scene seemed all too familiar to Icarus. The crash.
Yet other aspects seemed older. Some of the dying people were of the recent Zodiac expedition, yes, but some of them... Some of them seemed to have come from the deepest depths of Icarus' memories, recollections of times that even he struggled to remember. None of this was right. None of this could be real... Could it?
No. He had just been walking, moments ago. The grass had been ordinary, and the air silent. Not a soul had been near, neither living nor dead. This was just his mind messing with him. Maybe he had hit his head when he'd fallen.
That was it.
A concussion.
That's all this was.

Yet still...
The logical, medical knowledge of the doctor argued with his denial. Only a severe concussion could cause visual and audio hallucinations that vivid. He couldn't possibly have hit his head hard enough to inflict this... And the distortion of his memories had begun before he had fallen...
No. Everything was fine. It was just the stress, and the foreign environment. Once he got back to the rest of the crew, he'd relax, and it would all be fine.

Icarus shook his head once more, clearing the vision from his sight and pushing it to the back of his mind. The doctor stood, and strode quickly back to the shelter.
"Officer Renegade, is there anything of importance that I should attend to?" Icarus inquired as he entered the shelter, his tone uncharacteristically cold and brisk, even for a man such as him.

[☪ℓυηαя∂яσρ☪]

Rikimaru blinked and looked over at him, glad to have a distraction from their thoughts. "He hasn't awoken, Doctor. I don't see anything to do. At this point all I can do is suggest self-care; your chin is bruised." They did not mention the crazed look in his eyes, nor his tortured expression.

[Jeydon]

The doctor's eyes narrowed, taking on a rather dark, detached look. His tone took on the same aloof manner, with a note of defensiveness, as he replied.
"I'm fine. There's nothing wrong with me. Just... Watch the patient for me. I need to attend to some... Other business," Icarus explained vaguely, shifting restlessly where he stood. The doctor cast a paranoid glance back to Reinen's monitors, before turning and striding swiftly from the shelter. Once outside, however, he knew not where to go, and simply stood, lost in a rather dark section of his memories.

[☪ℓυηαя∂яσρ☪]

Rikimaru’s daze was interrupted by a slight stirring outside the shelter. Painfully rising to their feet, the second-in-command poked their head outside.
The present crew looked utterly defeated. Debris and scattered supplies were strewn about the purplish ground, shreds of unrecognizable material haphazardly thrown about.
The dark-haired androgyne looked for the captain. He was not to be seen. He must have gone off looking for more survivors or hope of rescue. With a sigh, Rikimaru looked back inside- there was someone bundled up on the bed with Monty snoozing underneath. Tending to others might allow them to maintain a sense of usefulness, something to focus on other than the pounding in their head.
But what was to be done? What had happened?
Their notebook might have something useful written in it. Rikimaru retrieved the little black book from their coat pocket and thumbed through the pages.
Was that blood sprinkled on the pages? Who’s blood was it?
The handwriting was definitively theirs, no doubt about that… But what was being depicted in the writing couldn’t have happened. A grizzly crash, death, and isolation… They took a seat next to the bed and thread their hand through Monty’s fur.
It said Icarus had diagnosed them with a concussion. That would explain their inability to remember anything. The book wasn’t much more helpful; it didn’t tell them where they were or where everyone else was.
Speaking of which…
They looked over to the bed. The body occupying it appeared to be Reinen, but…
His body was shrouded in sheets and his skin was a deathly pale. But his head…
His head…
He was encased in layer upon layer of thick gauze and ace bandaging. Blood seeped through in choice spots, and Rikimaru grimaced at the crudely-constructed IVs and bloody tools.
What had happened to Reinen? Were they themself this bad at some point? Was anybody else hurt this bad?
…Was he dead?

[Jeydon]

Once again, Icarus found himself wandering, out into the moors, lost within his own soul.
Phones ringing in the middle of the night seemed to be a growing annoyance to Icarus. As yet another rang, Icarus sighed, and dragged himself out of the chair he had fallen asleep in. Making his way across his flat to where he had left his phone lying on his desk, the man began to wonder who exactly might be calling this time.
"Hello?" Icarus' tone sounded rather disinterested, tainted with annoyance.
"Dr. Fverilin?"
"Yes?"
"Doctor, this is the police. We have a situation with your sister, Athena Fverilin?"
"What did she do?" Icarus sighed, "Vandalism, theft, just tell me, I'll pay for it."
"Doctor, I'm afraid it's rather more serious than that. Thanks to recently surfaced evidence, your sister has been implicated in several assassinations."
Icarus slowly lowered the phone, shock enveloping his features. He didn't want to believe it. More than anything, he wanted to believe that his sister would never do such a thing, that she had to be innocent. But the terrifying part of it was, Icarus did believe it. Athena was fully capable of such things. She was a strong, opinionated rebel, and she would stop at nothing doing what she believed was right.
"God, Athena," Icarus breathed, "What have you done..."

[☪ℓυηαя∂яσρ☪]

Rikimaru felt like months had passed. They thumbed through their little black book again, attempting to glean more insight upon further readings.
The good thing about their writing style is that they were blunt. Riki listed the facts as they were, with little opinion or fluff. Blinking the sleepiness from their eyes, they felt through their pockets for their pencil. Finding it stored safely in their breast pocket, they undid the button and retrieved the worn wooden nub. Picking the scraps from the eraser, the second-in-command hummed in thought.
Monty nudged his owner's hand as he noticed them fazing out. Brought back to reality, this horrible gritty reality, Rikimaru took some treats from their pocket to feed him. They weren't sure what the situation was with the rations, so they had to be sparing while handling food. Handing him a few pieces, Rikimaru looked up to the bed.
Reinen.
God, was he alright? They couldn't see anything indicative of life or death under all those layers of blankets and wrappings. Rikimaru looked aside, but failed to see anything useful. Looking back at Reinen, they took a deep breath. Was the doctor dead? He had to have been alive at some point to rig this up- Rikimaru surely would have had no idea how to rig up the numerous IVs and definitely would not have had the stomach to do it. But there was nothing to be said of the doctor's current state. They hadn't written anything in their book about him, so was it safe to assume he hadn't died?
It didn't matter; they had to know.
Rikimaru steadied themselves and decided. They wouldn't lift any bandages or anything very tight or thorough- if they reopened a critical wound or messed something up and Reinen was alive? No, they just wanted to know if he was alive. Gently lifting the side of the blanket, they gingerly fished underneath and reached for his hand. Would it be cold and dead? Or would there be life- a pulse, some warmth, movement?