...

Fandom: Baldur's Gate 3

Rating: M

Characters/relationships: Karlach/Tav (Fem!Tav)

Warnings: Mild gore, blood, temporary character death, mutilation, murder as a love language, swearing.

Summary:

"Trust me to kill you".

or

After losing many people in her life, Vice refuses to also lose the woman she loves.
However, she also can't force her to go back to Avernus.

What she can do is, arguably, worse.

(* - this fic has nothing to do with the movie of the same name, it's just an appropriate title as is.)

Click here for Tav details

Name: Vice
Race: Tiefling
Class: Barbarian berserk
Backstory: Urchin
Appearance: Tall, muscular, short red hair, short sharp horns with detailing, red infernal eyes. A butch.

---

They didn't think it would happen so soon.

Well, Karlach probably did. She's been waiting for her doom to come any day now for the last couple of weeks at least.

Vice was too afraid to really entertain the thought. In her mind she constantly postponed the date. Constantly hoped for one more day together before they had to face the inevitable.

They don't even have time to fully celebrate their victory. It hasn't even been an hour since the Absolute brain ate shit in the Baldur's Gate's harbor and they have finished fishing each other out of the aftermath. There's still water slurping in her shoes. Lae'zel has just barely left on her fully earned red dragon to lead a rebellion with a silver sword in hand, and Astarion is crouching under Wyll's cloak, which the latter is carefully holding over his head, shielding him from the sun until they all can move to some proper cover.

Vice hasn't even fully wrapped her head around everything that happened, everything they did. The fact that the danger is gone. The talks of pubs and celebrations sound like they are a mile away and she's just humming in agreement, nodding.

And then she notices that Karlach isn't there.

Looks around, confused, only to notice her standing by the water.

In that second when Karlach turns to her with that beautiful relieved smile, eyes gleaming, blindingly gorgeous in the halo of the sun, the moment snaps back into full clarity and Vice's blood turns cold.

She feels it coming before it happens, but she can't move her feet, frozen.

So many sleepless nights, so many talks, and yet she's not ready. Not in the slightest.

Whatever she promised to Karlach, however chill she pretended to be with the whole thing, she was a filthy, filthy liar. She woke up in cold sweat at the thought of losing her. It made her sick. It felt like a constant brink of insanity.

And here it is, happening right in front of her very eyes.

The paralysis breaks the moment Karlach falls to her knees, and Vice is by her side in a second. She makes a last valiant attempt to go along with Karlach's wishes, but when a shaking hand touches her cheek, so lovingly, so gently, so fucking unfairly, she crumbles.

She hears Wyll offering, once again, a return to Avernus.

She hears Karlach refusing.

She could push, but she can't, because the second she opens her mouth she sees Karlach trembling with panic at the House of Hope. And she just can't be that person, apparently.

She can, however, be much, much worse.

Vice looks back over her shoulder. Looks past Wyll and Astarion clinging to his side. Looks at Gale and Shadowheart.

Shadowheart, still pale from the fight, catches her eye. Purses her lips, face strained, tired. If only they knew, Vice would take someone else to fight the damn brain. But they didn't know. Because of her fucking denial. Feeling sharp panic tearing through her gut, she holds Shadowheart's gaze for a fraction of a second.

"Well, you're up late."

Vice grunted noncommittally, not lifting her eyes off of the page. Her poor brain was melting from trying to get what's what. Talking seemed like additional effort.

"Are you... reading?" Shadowheart cocked her head to the side, eyeing the stack of books curiously. "Didn't take you for a bookish type."

"That's because I'm not", sincerely echoed Vice.

Shadowheart squinted, looking at the spines.

"Devils, Hells, ways to kill demonic creatures... infernal machinery... and healing?" she quietly sat down next to her, then, after a pause, spoke again: "This is about Karlach, isn't it?"

"Whatever gave you that idea." Vice couldn't even muster some good-natured snark. "I'm just not buying that this is it. That we can do nothing else. It's too stupid and unfair, even for our fucking world."

"True." Shadowheart eyed her for another minute, then took pity on her scrunched face. "Need help with anything?"

"Dunno", absentmindedly said Vice, then immediately jerked upright. "Actually, wait, yes. You're a cleric, right?"

"Whatever gave you that idea", parroted Shadowheart with a deeply amused look. They've been traveling together for many weeks now.

"Right. Right." Vice dived into her pile of books, digging for something in particular, then produced an old tome and opened it up on a dog-eared page, turning the spread to face Shadowheart. "Push comes to shove, think you can do this thing?"

Shadowheart leaned forward, squinting to read the text in the dim campfire light.

"Resurrection spell..." she solemnly pondered. "I... I'm not sure if I'm powerful enough for that just yet, I'll be honest. I still don't know if I remember everything I used to know, and this might've just always been above my skill."

"Oh." Vice lowered the book in clear visible defeat. "Would... would getting something, like, to help, like a scroll or, uh, some objects maybe help, you think?" She was trying really hard to keep her voice from sounding desperate.

"Maybe", Shadowheart reluctantly agreed. "Especially if I read up on such spells as well." Vice's big infernal eyes immediately turned to pleading, making Shadowheart sigh. "Which I will do, given a chance." Vice beamed. "I don't want her to die either, you know." Shadowheart quietly added. Vice's face turned somber.

"I know." Her answer was just as quiet.

Seemingly steeling herself and making a decision, Shadowheart nods to her. Vice's eyes jump to Gale next. He's expecting it, it seems.

"Let me tell you, you don't want to know what happens if I die and this thing just goes 'ka-boosh!' all over the place", said Gale, stirring the pot. "Even had to prepare a plan B for that."

Vice snorted, busy with peeling some totally not stolen potatoes.

"And what's that?"

"That, my friend, you'll learn if I ever have the displeasure to perish prematurely."

"Aw, come on. Can't leave a gal hanging." For the lack of free hands, Vice poked him with her tail.

"Okay, okay", Gale laughed. "It's nothing too fancy, I assure you. Just a little True Resurrection scroll I carry with myself. Sometimes simplicity is the key." He tried his broth for salt and hummed, pleased with himself and his creation so far. "Granted, the little ritual to get the scroll might be a tad specific, but..." he trailed off, noticing that Vice had stopped peeling and was staring at him instead. "What?"

"You have a True Resurrection scroll?" she asked.

"Yes? Why, is that a problem?

He watched as her eyes darted to the other side of camp, where Karlach was currently very enthusiastically training Scratch to retreat on command and feeding him way too many snacks in the process.

"Ah."

Vice's jaw ticked.

"Listen", Gale gently said. "I understand. I really do. But I'm afraid my explosion is a little bit more important to prevent in terms of... scale."

"I'm sure", Vice said, clearly trying to stay rational and barely succeeding. "Even now that you're stabilized?"

"That will hardly matter if my physical form ceases to be."

"Right." She returned to peeling. Then looked up at him again. "Are you planning to be in danger much after this is all over?"

"Hopefully not", he said before catching her meaning. After a moment of intense consideration, he gave a heavy sigh. "Look. If we manage to ensure my continuous survival up until the end of our whole ordeal with the Absolute — provided I don't perish first by detonating the orb, of course — and if I am to be nearby when... whenever you might need it, I... shall consider. And then you'll owe me a new scroll, lest Tara can't keep me safe forever. Deal?"

Gale hesitates, but upon looking at Karlach's shaking burning form he falters. Closes his eyes. Then nods.

Vice's throat goes dry as she slowly turns her head back to Karlach. Her heart is pounding in her ears. She feels sick to the stomach, but she pushes that feeling down. Because if she's about to go through with this, she isn't allowed to feel. Not now.

Once again interrupting Karlach's attempt to say goodbye, she firmly grabs her shoulders. Flames crackle angrily at her, but she's been sweating in the damn Helldusk armor ever since she ripped it off Raphael's corpse for a good reason. Fire can't touch her at all.

“Karlach”, she says, not recognizing her own voice. “Love. I... I can't just watch you die.” She locks eyes with her, unblinking, before saying:

“So I need you to trust me to kill you.”

Karlach frowns, so confused she momentarily forgets to be in pain, unsure if she heard her wrong over the roaring flames:

“Excuse me?”

“Trust me to kill you”, Vice repeats, willing her voice not to tremble.

There are so many questions in Karlach's eyes, pushing through pain and fear, but Vice has no time to explain. None of them do.

“You said you could die if you're with me. Would it be that bad for it to be by my hand as well?” it sounds clumsy, it sounds stupid, it doesn't really explain the plan, but she's going mad from fear and that's the best she can manage.

Karlach gasps though another surge of fire, her face scrunching in pain, and finally nods, despite the clear uncertainty.

“Okay?”

Vice stops breathing for a second.

“You do have a... tough competition, th-thou-- A-argh!” Karlach yelps again, falling over in another fit of agony, and Vice follows her movement, laying her down on her back as gently as she can.

It's now or never, says something inside of her.

The engine burns through Karlach's skin, rattling so loud it's now audible to everyone even through her yells of excruciating pain.

Vice releases a breath and does what she does best — springs into blind action.

In one swift motion she straddles Karlach's hips, pinning her down to the ground, locking her legs with her feet. Guides her spasming hangs to her own knees, where Karlach's claws blindly, feverishly sink into the leather of her pants. Good. As long as she has something to grasp on to and keep her arms out of the way.

Vice's knife is still marred with Orpheus's blood as she uses it to cut open parts of Karlach's armor on her chest. She knows full well how to take it off, but right now she isn't taking her time. She yanks the armored fabric to the side, drops the knife, runs her gloved palms over the burning, sweaty naked skin, almost reverent like. Her fingers find a metal latch right above Karlach's left breast, right beneath the branding "Zariel" tattoo that made her see red every time she thought about it too hard. Not the time. The hot metal, alien among the tender skin surrounding it, gives in with a click. She saw Karlach installing upgrades into her own chest twice. She made a mental note of how to open it up.

It all takes but a couple of seconds, but time is slipping, burning up in the fire furiously biting at her armor. There's sweat rolling down her neck, down her nose, into her ears. Her metal piercings heat up, frying her skin. As she gently, but surely pries the engine chamber open, a pillar of pure flame erupts upwards and she can barely shield her eyes in time. She's not wearing a helmet. Sparks lick her tiefling skin, stinging, but struggling to do damage for now, as she takes a breath and immediately forgets to release it.

Because the opening is far too small to get through to the whole engine. Because whatever upgrades Karlach installed clearly were careful and meticulous work. Because the damn thing is spitting smoke beneath a layer of flesh, muscle and bone, mocking her. There's no taking it out now.

Vice freezes in inadequacy, in horror, but then Karlach groans, whimpers in pain under her, flame reaching even higher, and she knows she's losing her.

She can't fucking lose her.

The same rash, prickling, blinding wave of adrenaline that helps her be her best enraged self in battle rushes over her, makes her vision narrow, makes the last of her restrain evaporate as she shudders, her rational mental barriers folding one by one.

She can't. Fucking. Lose her.

She rips her stupid thick gloves off together with the gauntlets. The damn belts that hold them take way too long to unfasten, so she bites into them with her sharp teeth, tugs, tears them with an almost feral growl. Her jaw protests, her mouth is full of leather, there's saliva rolling down her chin, but she barely processes any of it. Throws the useless garment away, then another one, splashing it into water, her arms now bare up to the elbow.

"You'll burn your hands, you fool!" somebody yells from behind her back in warning.

"FUCK my hands", she snaps in response, not really paying attention to what she's saying, raising her claws over Karlach's chest.

Something small inside her howls in sheer terror, horrified of ever seriously hurting someone she loves. The high-pitched note deafens her inner ear.

She suffocates that voice as her claws sink into Karlach's skin.

Karlach buckles under her with a scream, grabs at her shoulders, more instinct than coherent thought at this point, but she's already severely weakened by her impending death, while Vice is leaning her whole weight on top of her. She's barely thinking. Pushes her fingers in deeper, yanks to the side, again and again, spreading flesh and muscle. Blood gurgles around her claws, immediately coagulating in ugly clumps from the immense heat of the burning engine. Her skin goes black at the contact, but she doesn't leave herself time to feel it, leaning in, one hand on Karlach's shoulder, bracing herself, another thrusting into her now open chest as the woman chokes on another pained yelp. Skin of Vice's own face starts giving in under the cruel beating of the flames, she can barely see what she's doing from the heat, her lungs heave with labored breathing, but her fingers finally curl up in between Karlach's ribs and grasp at the bright red metal right underneath. The bloody thing is pulsing and rattling around, spitting flames everywhere. Vice doesn't need to be an infernal mechanic to see, to feel that it's moments away from bursting.

She leans over, her face so close to Karlach's that the sweat from her lips is dropping down onto hers, and then she roughly pushes down with both hands.

There are two chilling, guttural screams ringing out in perversely perfect chorus as Karlach's ribcage caves in under her palms. One is, of course, Karlach's, as her whole body arches against her and her fingers blindly claw across the armored back. The other, Vice will later realize, is hers. Her whole body shrieks in agony as her hands burn up in the hellish fire, as her fingers curl in on themselves like branches on an enflamed tree, but it doesn't matter, it doesn't, because the fucking engine is in those hands at last. And she's not letting go now.

Oh, how she hated the damn thing for not-so-slowly killing her love.

Oh, how she loved it for keeping her love alive for long enough for them to find each other.

She scoots forward, sitting on Karlach's stomach now, grips her as hard as she can with her knees, melts her numbing fingers into the metal and yanks it. Pulls it with all that's left in her. The flames get even higher, engulfing them both equally as one, and the infernal machine burns them both alive together, flashing in a myriad different colors and sending a fountain of sparks into the air. Fire licks Vice's face, makes ends of her usually resistant hair spark, it roars in her ears, but she only howls louder as Karlach's body strains against her strength. The metal whines, exhaust tubes dragging through the shoulder muscles or popping off and staying lodged in there.

With a sickening cracking of ribs and tearing of muscle the engine rips out of Karlach's chest. And at the same time, her voice suddenly cuts off.

Vice follows the momentum, rising the spitting fiery thing up over head. Blood sprays everywhere this time, unceremoniously splatters her face, runs down her ashy arms. She can't hear a sound. Like there's a thick fog in her ears. Like someone casted Silence on them.

Unable to look away, in a hypnotized horror, she watches the last spark of life die down inside Karlach's eyes.

Something inside her dies with, and briefly she's lost, unsure what she's even breathing for. What is she doing? What is–

"-- it! --op it! DROP IT, YOU MORON!"

She inhales sharply, remembering to breathe, and in utter terror looks up at the rattling, scorching ball of raging metal and fire in her hands.

Belting up and to the side, she throws it away from the pier, hoping to get it in the water. What's left of her palms' skin, burnt clean into metal parts, rips off as the mangled engine leaves her crooked grasp.

It blows before it reaches the water.

The blast wave goes over Karlach's prone body, but hits Vice right in the chest. Pieces of metal debris jab themselves into her face, cutting it open and sizzling it close, and she goes tumbling backwards. Her head whooshes down past the floor, the world turns on its axis as she almost falls from the opposite side of the pier.

Strong hands catch her by the chestplate, yank her upwards.

"Minsc got you, friend", he says, but his face lacks the usual smile. She can't read if it's unnerved or judging or something else. She barely registers where she is anymore, feeling three sorts of concussed at once.

She hears a flute playing in the background. Four notes.

Her unfocused gaze catches on Karlach's unmoving form. Still as she never ever was, not even in her sleep. There's a pool of blood surrounding her in a wicked halo and her chest is all but clawed out by a wild animal. Vice did that. She remembers the cracks and the rips and the screaming, the fucking screaming.

"Karlach", she croaks out weakly, her own throat blown out as well.

"I'm on it".

Shadowheart moves past her, swift and determined, without even sparing a look. Her face is fixed in an unreadable, concentrated expression. Gale follows suit with a scroll in his hand. The side-eye he gives Vice is as much awe as it's somewhat object horror.

"I have never found the sight of blood less appetizing", Astarion grumbles from under Wyll's cloak, seemingly trying to break the tension after all that, but someone immediately shushes him.

"This spell can work up to 200 days after death", Gale carefully, reluctantly points out, handing the scroll to Shadowheart. "Is doing it now, in the aftermath of the battle, really wise?"

Vice barely processes the words before jerking forward on her knees with a terrified whine. Minsc holds her back by the collar of her armor.

Shadowheart spares her a look. A pained one, a sympathetic one. With a deep breath she takes the scroll.

"I'm stronger than I look. Let's get this over with."

She knows that the spell is out of her league. Gale knows it. Vice knows it too.

She has never prayed to any god the way she prays to Shadowheart right now.

How utterly selfish to put her entire world on her friend's shoulders.

Shadowheart crouches down to touch Karlach's grayed face. Her eyes are still open, looking up to the sky she was going to miss so dearly.

Vice blinks, her own eyes dry as all Hells after staring into an open fire pit. Her tear ducts get to work, blurring her vision, and she shakes her head, just trying to see. Not daring to look away. Not ever.

After giving a quick prayer to Selune - a weird thing to hear even still - Shadowheart unrolls the scroll and slowly starts chanting.

Unfamiliar words flow nice and easy off of her lips. Her voice seems different when she does that.

Her eyes start to glow, brighter and brighter with each syllable. She stands up, the scroll floating in the air in front of her, as she makes some well-honed gestures with her hands.

She did practice, Vice realizes with a jolt in her heart. She can barely remember to breathe, watching it all unfold.

It gets brighter and brighter at the pier, in the spot around Karlach. Light weaves in between Shadowheart's fingers, then pours down on the woman in front of her.

Obeying the melodic chant, Karlach's body lifts up a few inches in the air, soaked in light. Her head lulls lifelessly back, horn knocking on bloodstained wood, and Vice bites down a cry.

Shadowheart's hands start to ever so slightly tremble.

Slowly, miraculously, the glow weaves around the brutal wound in Karlach's chest, fills it in. Building muscle by muscle. Vessel by vessel. Bone by bone. Connecting them. Righting what was wrong.

Creating anew her good old tiefling heart.

It's like none of them dares to breathe by this point.

Shadowheart's shaking more noticeably now, but she refuses to stumble over her words, voice firm, commanding. There are beads of sweat on her furrowed brow.

Karlach's chest closes up, ribs, muscle, skin. New flesh pushes out the latches and tubes, unneeded remnants of the engine clanking on wood, pulls the new skin over. Ink from Zariel's tattooed name seems to follow. Good riddance.

The spell starts to crawl to the rest of the scars and tattoos, eager to replace everything damaged, but Shadowheart falters, growing unsteady.

"That's enough", she whispers. "Enough to live."

She throws her head back, looking at the sky, or maybe somewhere Vice just can't see. Her eyes are still awash with the spell's light.

"Now you just need to come back", she calls out.

Vice goes still. She... never even considered that.

What if Karlach doesn't want to go back? What if she's better there, wherever they go afterwards. What if she's tired of this damn world always fucking her over. What if she's mad at Vice for not even allowing her to die in peace.

"Please, Karlach," she yells, or rather tries to, but her mouth can only manage a pathetic wheeze. "Darling, love, you wanted to live so badly. You can now. I promise you can. Please. Just choose to try one last time. I swear to you it'll be worth it."

She's whispering almost feverishly now. It doesn't matter if Karlach comes back and wants nothing to do with her. Well, it does. But as long as she's alive and happy anywhere at all, Vice can live with it.

Shadowheart's shaking bodily now. There's a drop of blood running down from her nose.

"Now or never!" she calls out, voice urgent.

"Come on, Karlach! You aren't done yet!" yells Wyll.

"That's right! Boo says so too!" joins Minsc.

"Enough with the theatrics, you impossible woman!" exclaims Astarion. "Are you really going to miss the chance to spit on Gortash's grave? I simply won't respect you!"

"It's going to be an awfully empty camp without you", adds Gale, carefully helping Shadowheart stand upright.

"An awfully empty world, even", nods Halsin.

"Come on, girl!" comes a surprisingly loud one from Jaheira. "Don't leave these stupid friends of yours alone, they'll gloom themselves to death!" And after a pause, she adds: "I might, too."

"Please", weakly concludes Shadowheart.

There is a beat. A brief moment in which Vice considers ripping her own heart out for a good measure. It's halfway there already anyway.

Then suddenly Karlach's whole body jerks violently, as she sucks in a loud, hungry breath and her eyes shut close.

Shadowheart exhales roughly, tying the spell up and falling to her knees. It seems like she's on her way to just drop face first, but Gale catches her in time. The scroll vanishes into thin air and the magical light goes away.

The pier falls into dumbfounded silence.

Then:

"Well, holy shit", says Astarion.

Minsc roars in laughter, shaking Vice by the shoulder.

"You're crazy, my friend, crazy, I tell you! But it's a good thing! Karlach is still with us! You hear that, Boo?"

There are other voices, yet Vice can barely hear any of them.

Her mind refuses to process that just like that, the thing she was most afraid of for the last month is just. Gone. Done. She did it.

She can see Karlach's chest moving up and down from where she sits on the wooden planks, but she can't make sense of what she's seeing. It's like her head is still stuck in the moment when Karlach was saying her goodbye. And it can't move on.

"Let me see your hands." Jaheira comes out of nowhere, kneeling next to her and inspecting her charred limbs. She clicks her tongue in disapproval, even as gentle greenish glow starts pouring down from the tips of her fingers. "I'm no great healer, cub. You'll have scars left."

"'s fine", Vice mutters on sheer reflex. The feeling starts coming back slowly, beginning with the elbows and flowing down. With the feeling comes pain and she hisses in surprise, looking down at her hands. Her fingers start slowly uncurling, gaining back their mobility. That hurts the most, but she can hardly complain.

The more her skin gains back its original orange color, the more clearly she can see the amount of dried blood on her hands. Some part of her brain that she previously shut off finally falls into place. With vengeance.

She looks up again. Karlach's newly restored skin is clean, but her peaceful face is covered in red drops. Her armor, cut and tossed, is soaked beyond recognizing the original color. And the spray of dark crimson all around her is hard to miss.

She did it.

The crack, the rip, the scream.

The moment Vice can feel her fingers again they start trembling furiously.

"Easy now", Jaheira says cautiously.

A strong wave of bile hits Vice's throat and she barely has time to turn around and lean over the edge of the pier to throw up all the contents of her stomach and then some. Which, by that point, isn't much, so it goes torturously.

"Fuck", she wheezes, squeezing her eyes shut.

She can't recall half of what went down, small mercies from her brain, but whatever is left will haunt her forever.

"Mincs is right, you are crazy", laments Jaheira somewhere above her, patting her back. "But you're also determined, I'll give you that. Look at that: the girl's alive."

"At what cost", Vice wants to ask, but doesn't exactly feel the right to.

Barely holding herself up on trembling arms, Vice hoists herself back fully on the pier and dares to look at Karlach again. Then crawls over to her on all fours, not trusting her legs to carry her.

Karlach's lashes flutter. She's asleep. More soundly than most of the nights Vice witnessed. No longer in pain.

Hesitating, Vice places her bloody palm at the center of Karlach's chest. There's a strong even beat under her hand, nothing in common with the old mechanical rumble.

She let that sound lull her to sleep more nights than one. She's sure she'll love the new one just as much. If she's allowed to.

Turning her head, Vice looks at Shadowheart, pale, exhausted, fully leaning on Gale. She rests her forehead on her shoulder.

"Thank you", she whispers.

Shadowheart cracks one eye open.

"Thank me by letting me sleep for at least a week."

"Deal." Vice manages a weak smile even.

The sky above their heads is fully lit now. The city behind them is celebrating. Defeating the Absolute somehow feels like a lifetime ago.

Vice suddenly feels so incredibly tired.

So she lowers her forehead onto Karlach's chest, closes her eyes and lets her new favorite sound briefly carry her away.

***

Epilogue:

Karlach Cliffgate wakes up in no pain at all.

Naturally, she assumes that she has finally died.

Ah. What a fucking shame, really.

She remembers that they won and everyone was okay. Then a lot of pain and a flash. Everything in between is blurry. Well, the important part is that everyone was okay, really.

She hasn't exactly expected the afterlife to begin with something that felt like a soft bed. What, no higher judgment for her sins? Can Demonsbane be absolved of everything de facto just for being the unluckiest bitch in Faerun?

It's kinda cold for some perfect godly heavens, though. Maybe they just let you get a good night's sleep before throwing you to be judged. How nice of them.

Gods, she hasn't felt so blissfully not-in-pain in ages, literal ages, a decade, if you will. For the first time in forever she can actually sorta laze around instead of feeling the urge to immediately get up and run around to escape a thousand problems knocking around in her head.

There's music and noise coming from somewhere. She furrows her brow. Sounds like a tavern on the lower floor. And a bustling city outside. Some celebration going on, maybe? Ah, how nice. Just like the Elfsong tavern.

...in fact, actually, suspiciously too much like the Elfsong tavern.

Karlach opens her eyes to see an all too familiar ceiling above her head.

Wait. What the fuck.

Losing the last remnants of sleep, she bolts up right.

Without a doubt, it's their floor-wide shared room at the tavern. The one where the whole gang was sleeping ever since coming to the city. The only new detail are the smashed windows — hence the chilly air.

An interesting choice for an afterlife. Or... is she actually alive?

Someone snorts on the floor and she looks down to see Scratch sleeping besides her bed.

Oh, she better be alive. Because if they somehow managed to get the dog killed, she's about to come back as a vengeful spirit and haunt someone.

As the emotion spikes through her, something weird trumps in her chest. She places a hand over it by reflex, and frowns, confused.

She's not burning up from the inside. And there's no familiar rumble under her palm.

In fact, after some consideration, she concludes that it feels and sounds a lot like others' chests did when she hugged them.

Dares she say, it feels like a heart.

Her own, original heart. Like, a meat one. Like the one mum gave her at birth.

Oh, she's definitely dead then.

...who the fuck killed the dog though?!

"Glad to see you awake." She nearly jumps and looks over at Shadowheart standing near the screen shielding her bed from the rest of the room. She looks tired and is wrapped into a wool blanket. "They were making bets on which one of us sleeps for longer, you know. You've won, clearly."

"Are you fucking dead?" Karlach blurts out without thinking. Sue her, she's lost over here.

Shadowheart cocks an eyebrow, amused.

"Very much alive, if I do say so myself."

Karlach takes a deep breath. Okay. Confused.

"Cool, cool. Uh... How am I not dead, then?"

The steady beating against her rib cage makes this all feel surreal.

Shadowheart comes closer and sits on the edge of her bed, eyeing her warily.

"What do you remember?"

Karlach frowns, rattling her brain around.

Victory. Everyone okay. Engine burning up. Pain. Flash. Nothing.

"Dying?" She reluctantly offers.

Shadowheart is still looking at her weird.

"Well. That much is true."

Karlach looks back at her in exasperation.

"You have just told me that we're alive!"

Shadowheart holds back a smile out of clear sympathy.

"We are."

"Girl, you're messing with me."

"A little. I mean, you did die." Shadowheart takes pity on her, although clearly unsure how to approach the subject. "Just... not from the engine? Not exactly."

Karlach frowns harder, goes back to her scrambled memories again. Pain, pain, pain in her chest, lots of fire, what else?

Cold.

She suddenly remembers a wave of awful, deathly cold flushing all over her body, blood stilling in her veins. As if someone dropped a block of ice inside her chest instead.

She remembers a brief, unclear flash of Vice's face. It's hard to remember the expression. Red with blood. Or burns? Eyes big. Maybe terrified.

"Vice", she says in an unsure tone and Shadowheart's jaw sets. Warmer, then.

When she doesn't look any less confused, Shadowheart nods to the opposite side of the room, and only then does Karlach notice that the bed directly across from her is also occupied.

Vice sleeps, half sitting up, using a peacefully snoring owlbear cub as a giant pillow. Deep circles under her eyes make it look like she hasn't caught a blink in an awful while, but that's not what catches Karlach's attention.

There's a long carefully healed burn scar going across her face. That’s new. It kinda makes her look like her old mentor Karlach knows the Emperor posed as. There are other clearly fresh cuts on her forehead and cheeks. The tip of her left horn is chipped off. Her arms are wrapped in bandages from fingers to elbows, but Karlach can see a familiar web of twisted skin poking out from underneath the edges. Burns.

"Trust me to kill you", rings a voice in her head.

"She...killed me." She poses it as a statement, but Shadowheart takes it for the question that it is.

"She did. Well, technically. You could say it was necessary."

Karlach pries her eyes away from Vice and looks back at her.

"Care to fill me in, maybe?"

Shadowheart sighs.

"Well, the gist of it is that we had this resurrection spell."

"You had a what."

"You heard me. It's supposed to be able to rebuild a person's whole body anew, even if they're torn to pieces. But I'll admit, it was too advanced for me, so the best gamble was, well. To make sure you're somewhat intact still."

Karlach feels the gears turning in her head.

"By removing my engine."

"Yes."

"While it was exploding."

"Well, not ideally, but it didn't leave anyone much of a choice."

"With her bare hands."

"Not my idea, no."

Karlach looks at Vice again.

"I swear I would belt you one if I didn't love you so much, you impossible moron", she whispers.

Shadowheart clears her throat.

"Yeah, she's kind of losing sleep a little because of that."

"Because of what?"

"She's scared that you'll hate her, I think. For killing you and all." Shadowheart shrugs.

Karlach mulls it over.

"Makes sense, I suppose." She looks over to the window. The sky is blue. The city she loves is right here within her reach. And the world beyond is, too. For the first time in ten years and then some she doesn't feel death breathing down her neck. She inhales deeply and it doesn't hurt. "I am alive, though. What... what is there to be mad about, again?"

There's a brief noise and both of them turn to Vice. After a brief pause Karlach realizes that it was her treacherous tail flopping to the other side, and squints her eyes.

Shadowheart chuckles.

"Well-well, look who's awake."

"I am asleep", Vice says in a voice so hoarse it's genuinely startling. "Keep talking."

Shadowheart stifles a giggle and Karlach arches an eyebrow.

"What, I come back from the dead and I don't even get a 'hello'?" she teases.

There's a pause.

Then Vice is suddenly up on her feet, startling poor owlbear. She crosses the room in a matter of a few long strides, drops to her knees so heavy the whole floor shudders, and buries her face in Karlach's abdomen, wrapping her arms tightly around her lower back.

At no point in that quick transition does Karlach manage to meet her eyes.

Gods, she really is afraid.

"Hi", Vice whispers, muffled. Karlach's new old heart breaks a little at the sound.

"Hey, darling", she echoes back, threading her fingers through dirty red hair. Some tension drains from Vice's shoulders, but she doesn't move.

"I'll leave you two to it, I think." Shadowheart stands up, but Karlach catches her hand.

"Shadowheart."

She looks back at her, brow curiously raised.

"Thank you," Karlach says as earnestly as ever in her whole cursed life. Words don't cut it, and she knows that, but some part of her hopes that Shadowheart can read the rest in her eyes, in her slightly trembling voice.

Shadowheart holds her gaze, then smiles and reaches out, gently squeezing Karlach's shoulder.

"Welcome back", she says quietly, and Karlach also sees the rest of it in her eyes, in her smile. I love you, my friend. I would miss you terribly. Thank you for coming back.

Then Shadowheart leaves, and she's left alone with her lover and her murderer. What a weird fucking thought.

She should maybe feel appalled. Or scared, or uneasy. Maybe she should be mad that her body was violated once again. Although this time she at least somewhat remembers giving some amount of consent, albeit dubious. That's already a huge improvement, however sad it might sound.

Getting a chance on life and her heart back is also infinitely better a reward compared to the last time.

If she strains her memory hard enough she can recall the briefest flashes. Sting of claws, fingers plunging into her chest, her own burning throat as the hot blinding pain was driving her insane. But it’s all foggy. Mixed with the equally searing pain of the engine itself. Mixed with the awful sensation of dying anyway.

And now she's alive and those same hands are holding her as if she is the biggest treasure in the world. This, now, feels real. And as always, she'd rather choose the present.

And if all that ever comes back to haunt her, well. She has a whole life ahead of her to figure all her traumas out. Finally.

Even when she’s purposefully trying to find reasons to get angry, it just doesn’t come. And boy, that’s saying something.

"Darling, look at me", she says softly. Arms around her tighten slightly, but there's no response. She sighs and gently tries to pry Vice's face away from her. "Come on now. Hey."

It takes a second, but eventually Vice gives up with a sigh and lifts her head. Something twists in Karlach's stomach when she meets her eyes. They are haunted, lost, but they also soften immediately at the mere sight of her.

"I'm sorry", Vice whispers, leaning into Karlach's palm on her check in an almost guilty indulgence.

"What for?" Karlach asks, and Vice frowns. It should be obvious what she's talking about, clearly, and yet.

"You haven't seen what I have done to you", she whispers, her eyes darting around, as if afraid that Karlach might see it all in them if she looks hard enough.

"I haven't", Karlach agrees easily. Clearly, being already half-dead throughout the whole ordeal was a blessing. Her free hand carefully touches Vice’s chipped horn. “Can see what you’ve done to yourself, though.”

Vice winces, offers a nervous smile.

“Guess we’re matching now, huh?”

That’s… a cute thought, actually. She'd much rather prefer her intact and such, of course, but as far as their lives go. Cute.

When Vice doesn't offer any further commentary, Karlach bites her lip. Then scoots a bit closer, taking her face with both hands, gently forcing her to look up again, and asks in her best dead serious tone:

"Do you regret it?"

Vice freezes. A flood of emotions crosses her face — she's startled, shocked, confused, then appalled. Then, as she processes this new angle, firmness sets in. Finally she straightens up, standing taller on her knees, face hardening, eyes flashing with the deepest soulful fire as she fervently grabs Karlach's wrists.

"With you alive? Take me back in time and I would do it all over again."

The fierce devotion in her voice, a sharp turn from the timid worry just a second ago, makes Karlach's throat tighten. Makes her heart thud heavily in her chest — a novel, forgotten, but welcomed feeling.

"Then I don't regret it either", she whispers back with equal fervor. This time, when she tugs Vice upwards, she follows willingly, climbing into her lap with all the awkwardness of a tall person still not used to being smaller, but none of them cares. Their lips crash into each other with a burning need, sealing this new sort of fucked up, but intoxicatingly sweet bond between them. Vice feels so much warmer now that their body temperature is matching. Karlach's heart hammers against her ribs when Vice’s fingers bury themselves in her messy hair just below her ears, and it makes her dizzy almost the same as when she first kissed another kid behind her father's pottery.

Shit, this is fun. She could get used to feeling giddy again when there's an excitement in her chest instead of setting everything on fire.

"You gave me my heart back", she whispers into Vice's lips. "How will I ever one that one up?"

Vice pulls away slightly, chuckling.

"Technically, Shadowheart gave you your heart. I got rid of the impostor, though."

Karlach groans.

"Gods. Just let me be poetic and shit, would you!"

"Not my fault you suck at it", Vice teases and immediately yelps as Karlach swiftly turns them over and her back hits the mattress.

"Are you sassing me, soldier? Know what else I can really suck at?" Karlach deadpans as Vice bursts out laughing at the poorly executed pun, only for that laughter to turn into a shameless moan once Karlach's lips find the old scar on her neck.

"Oh, for the love of-- find a separate room, you two!" someone yells from the other side of the screen.

"Fuck off!" immediately retorts Karlach, but by this point they are all laughing, and she just plops onto Vice in retaliation. Vice gives out a small huff, but really she cherishes the feeling.

She can also feel Karlach's heart beating against her chest now, and it makes her smile.

"Nice to meet the whole of you." She teases. "Not that you ever lacked anything."

Karlach hums.

"Still love me?"

"To the death." Vice answers, locking her arms around Karlach's torso.

"Good." She buries her face in the crook of Vice's neck, careful not to poke her with her horns. "I love you too."

There's a bird chirping on the windowsill. Someone is singing on the street. Poorly, but with a lot of soul. The city is slowly beginning its path to healing.

"So, what's next, now that you have a future to look forward to?" Vice asks softly. "Adventures? A house with a mean goat?"

Karlach ponders the thought. It's been so long since she actually felt like she had a future, it's a completely unfamiliar territory now.

"I don't know", she admits. "But we'll figure it out."

"Together", echoes Vice, curling her tail around Karlach’s.

They stay like that for a few minutes, before food arrives at the door of their room and it's apparently time for lunch — and Jaheira will positively rip their ears off if they don't get some proper substance, or so she claims.

Karlach laughs, lifting herself up on her elbows, and kisses the tip of Vice's nose.

"Since some prudes won't let me make love to my girlfriend", she announces loudly, "I think I'll start this life by hugging all my friends instead! You've all been warned and you've brought it on yourselves!"

There's a chorus of laughter and affectionate groans that erupts as she steps into the main room, arms spread out wide. Hugs, congratulations and friendly back pats are definitely in order.

Vice sits up on the bed, watching her go, and she can’t hold back a smile.

She still feels like she'll never wash the feeling of dried blood out from under her claws.

But as long as Karlach is alive and happy, she can live with it.

Yeah, she can definitely live with it.