24
Pulse and Quark collapsed into the wheat and grass.
There was no way of knowing how long they had been running, only that he no longer had the physical will to keep moving.
Quark became hyper-aware of the toll on his body.
The ache and scars of the pull left him inert in the grass.
Disabled by the pain in his spine where the chains snapped away, Quark concluded how much he loathed the sensation.
No matter how deep he breathed or how hard he tried to rest away the ache, it persisted.
It was unrelenting and unforgiving, and all Quark wanted to do was cry in hopes the tears would carry the pain away.
Yet seeing the marks on Pulse's hands from the earlier altercation helped distract him long enough. "Pulse..."
Their hands clenched. Pulse wasn't trying to hide the marks—magenta scabs, shimmering streaks of celestial blood—they were trying to contain themselves.
At this moment, Pulse felt they were ready to self-destruct.
Emotions were the source of their raw wounds.
As their fists shook, they tried to hold back tears and failed to do so.
Wet glitter dripped onto their shirt, the black blood began to wash out from Pulse's collar, one teardrop at a time.
“Pulse...” Quark set a hand on their shoulder.
"She can't take us away." That voice was new. A weak, vulnerable voice. Their throat constricted with the need to control it. "Leo doesn't... She doesn't deserve..."
Quark embraced them. It was such a normal reaction at the time, "I know, I know..."
He knew Pulse did their best to hold back their full strength as they returned their embrace. Their arms engulfed him, and they buried their faces into their shoulder. Every last bit of the lingering cold melted away from Quark.
“We need to find her—We need to see her somehow, and I don't know how.”
Quark had to swallow. “This isn't over yet.”
Wave after wave of solar charges pulsated through him and the area around them.
Pulse was usually so controlled and mindful of their emotions and energy.
This time, Quark let them release that pent-up power.
He closed his eyes, smelling the burnt ozone around them.
Little by little, Pulse settled into him.
The burnt smell subsided. A new scent wafted over Quark's face, something sweet, invigorating yet calming, peculiarly familiar.
Forever was passing as Pulse and Quark breathed into each other. "Are you okay?" Pulse asked with a hoarse voice.
“I'm pretty sore, but I am. Are you—”
“Yeah. I'm okay. Thank you...”
With that assurance, they laid down in the grass and collapsed into each other's arms.
Quark knew he shouldn't be clinging to Pulse the way he was.
His hand twisted into their shirt, his face pressed to the skin on their side.
It was impossible to resist at the moment, compounding with how he was too tired to move away.
Pulse appeared accepting of it. They turned into Quark, arms around him, locking their arms around his body.
"Thank you..." Pulse repeated. Quark didn't know why they were grateful. If there was any last speck of energy left, he may have asked.
He was the first to pass out into a dreamless sleep, not into black, starry abyss, but a new and alien state of consciousness.
Swirls of random colors and lines, formless and non-tangible shapes of objects.
He felt himself fall asleep; spinning into it, drowning in exhaustion.
Pulse was his lifeline, an anchor for him to cling to as the vortex claimed him.
No matter the ache or pain, Pulse soothed it away.
They only needed to rub small circles on the base of his back to remind him that there was still a body and that there was still hope in this.
His body now felt a new gravity, its source unknown, yet Quark believed it was Pulse.
Quark dared not move, he didn't want to; They no longer existed in time and space, they no longer held favor in the eyes of the cosmos—they were, undoubtedly, being hunted.
But here, together, the universe be damned.
He had Pulse. He had Leo.
That was enough.