Chapter Text
Pac looks a little paler than when Fit left, but neither him nor Mike mention Fit’s choice of meal.
They can probably see the sense in it, anyway. As long as Fit’s eating this, they’ll be able to go longer eating regular food.
The inevitable argument that’ll arise when he’ll have to convince them to turn to cannibalism is already giving him a headache, but that’s a future problem. And they have many, many other problems to combat before they can even hope to get to that one.
“I cleaned my bowl out in a nearby stream.” Fit announces. Then he nods between Mike, and the other dirty bowls. “You wanna clean up the rest?”
Mike huffs. But he doesn’t do much more than exchange a silent look with Pac before gathering the dishes, and leaving their makeshift camp.
Fit’s seen that kind of look before. A quick, will you be okay? Common during negotiations, hostage situations, and more.
He… does have to admit it’d be strange for Mike to send that look towards Pac if he wasn’t genuinely concerned about him. It’s such a subtle thing, after all. No one would think twice about it if it wasn’t there.
It all just comes down to how smart Mike is. How manipulative he is. With all he’s seen, it doesn’t seem like Mike is partial to subtly, but Fit can’t just let his guard down based on that. It’s only been three days, after all.
Now that they’re actually setting up camp, Fit unpacks the extra bedding he’d taken from those guys they killed. He’d decided to only grab one set, since Pac and Mike seem happy enough to share, and they could use the baggage space for other things.
When he starts, Pac is shifting around in his own bedding—likely getting comfortable, but not lying down yet. Halfway through, he can feel Pac’s gaze on him.
He doesn’t seem like he wants to speak, though. He just stares.
Maybe he’s cataloguing how well Fit can move without his prosthesis on. Trying to get an accurate assessment of how much of a threat he’d still be without it. He would hope by now Pac doesn’t feel the need to do that, but he doesn’t blame him for wanting to.
No matter how close you are with your ally, you have to be prepared for things to go sour. If only Pac could see that with Mike.
“You really trust him?” Fit asks as he finishes up his task.
“Who?” Pac leans forward just slightly, and tilts his head. “Mike?”
“Yeah.” Fit starts donning his arm. He definitely hasn’t left it off for long enough, but it’s probably better to make it seem like it’s just part of his bedtime routine. “I do trust your judgement, Pac—”
Pac laughs, a strained amusement in his expression. Fit’s going to ignore that for the moment.
“—I trust your judgement, but before I let him take watch I want you to be absolutely certain. No funny business, no emotions—just cold, objective facts.”
“Fit…” Pac frowns. “Ah, meu deus, I shouldn’t have—shouldn’t have told you he tried to kill me, you know?”
“What do you mean?” Fit huffs. “That’s pretty important shit for me to know, I’d say.”
“No, like…”
Pac looks away. Down at his prosthetic leg. Fit hadn’t noticed earlier, but there’s a seemingly long stretch of bandage piled on top of it. The one around his chest, maybe? But why—? No, that’s a question for another time.
“We—It was either him or me, you know?” Pac says. “We—We were in a bad situation. Uh… trapped on an island. There was C—a guy with a gun, and only one extra spot on the boat, and… Well, we wanted to get rid of—of the gun guy so we could both go with Guaxinim—and we did—but…”
Pac looks back up at him, and shrugs.
“I don’t blame him, you know?” Pac continues. “We were both scared, and—and hungry. Desperate, and… not thinking in our right minds. And Ce—The guy with the gun—even without the gun he has, like… a way of making you want to do things, you know?”
“Okay.” He drags the word out, considering the new information.
It kind of feels like Fit’s not getting the whole story. It sounds like Pac is about to say a name, but then cuts himself off, and Fit doesn’t know why.
At the very least, Pac’s self-censoring doesn’t seem to have anything to do with Mike himself.
“I’m just saying that—that was—oh, I can’t think of the word.” Pac huffs. “It was a bad situation. Really, really bad, you know? Mike isn’t usually like that. I’ve known him for practically my whole life. He’s not just gonna, like… turn on us for no reason, yeah?”
“But he could find a reason?”
“Well, so could you.” Pac shrugs. “I could, too. You know, maybe some other hot 2B2T warrior shows up, and—”
It startles a laugh out of Fit. He turns his head away, face feeling warm, but Pac mercilessly continues.
“And then—And then it’s,” Pac deepens his voice, “Goodbye Fit, hello hotter guy.”
“Take—Take it easy, Pac.” He pushes his laughter down, turning it into a cough. “God.”
“Sorry.” But between his smile, and his tone of voice he doesn’t exactly seem sorry. “I think—I think it would be hard to find someone hotter than you, anyway.”
“Pac.”
Pac bursts into cackling laughter. Which is warranted. Fit must look like a tomato with how red his face undoubtedly is.
“I’m gonna—I’m gonna go—go check on Mike.” Fit stutters out. “I’m—Yeah.”
“Okay!” Pac says, the word coming out a little strangled due to being at the tailend of his laughter.
The cool air of the larger cavern is very appreciated.
For a moment he just stands there, letting it clear his head.
Pac is… Well, he’s certainly something.
And… he has a point. About Mike. As much as Fit’s happy to stick with them now, the second a better deal comes along he’ll probably ditch them—if he can manage to get his items away from them, at least.
And while Fit still doesn’t entirely trust that that argument didn’t push Mike over into plotting revenge, knowing the context behind Pac’s worrying throwaway line from their first day together eases some of his fears.
He heads over to the stream to find Mike.
Who isn’t washing dishes anymore. He’s just sitting at the edge of the stream, staring down into it.
“What are you looking at?” Fit asks—
—And Mike lets out a quiet yelp, jumping a little.
“Caraca, Fit!” Mike hisses, sending him a glare before sighing, and directing his gaze back to the water. “It’s pretty deep, huh?”
“Yeah.”
The water in the caves do get deep sometimes—the darkness making it impossible to tell exactly what you’re dealing with. Fit had thought it was a well-known fact and hadn’t even thought to warn him about it, but then again, Mike’s probably never been in a cave system like this before.
Mike points into the water.
“It’s glowing.” He explains. “Right near the bottom, see?”
“Probably a glow squid.”
Still, Fit walks closer. Sits down next to him. Mike looks over at him, an expression of muted awe on his face.
“I’ve only ever heard of glow squids.” Mike admits. “Like in books, and stuff. Pac would read—Well, it’s not important.”
Really, Fit shouldn’t want Mike to open up more. Not now, at least, when he’s half-certain Mike’s about to betray them. But it’s… kind of nice. Talking to Mike without the usual tension present.
“They’re pretty common around here.” Fit says, trying to prompt more conversation. “There’ll probably be more. A lot more.”
“Wow! I’d love to see one up close…” Then Mike’s face drops into something carefully neutral, and that feels like the end of it. “Pac would love this. We should show him tomorrow, yeah?”
Fit feels… Well, it doesn’t matter. It’s stupid to feel even mildly discontent about Mike treating him like an ally and not a friend. Maybe he could see Pac becoming one. But Mike?
This could all just be some ploy to get his guard down, anyway.
“Sure. We’ll be exploring a lot more tomorrow, anyway.” Fit claps Mike’s shoulder, and stands up again. “Now let’s get back before Pac gets worried.”
Pac does, in fact, look a little worried when they get back, but it quickly smoothes out once he sees that they’re fine.
It doesn’t take long to figure out the watch order. Pac will go first so he can have uninterrupted sleep and be well-rested for when they have to start their tasks for the day, then it’ll be Mike, and finally Fit.
Fit’s glad Mike is in the middle. It’ll probably be the best time for him to feel comfortable trying something.
Anticipation buzzes under his skin as he crawls into bed.
It’s easy enough to stay awake through Pac’s shift. Boring, but easy. The low level discomfort of having his prosthesis back on without giving his arm enough time to rest helps. As well as the fact that the previous nights he had to actively try to fall asleep.
About halfway through Pac’s shift, Fit hears him rummaging through a bag. And then there’s the telltale click of his recording device, and the low murmur of Fit’s own voice filling their small camp.
Pac had turned the volume down before pressing play, so Fit has to strain to make out the words, but at least it gives him something to do.
It’s sweet how much Pac enjoys his audios. Even if right now he’s just listening to combat boredom, Fit doesn’t think he could forget the excited interest on Pac’s face when he was listening earlier. How engrossed he had seemed in Fit’s words.
But soon enough, Pac is turning the device off and waking up Mike. He listens to the hum of their conversation, and the shifting of blankets as they trade places. When Pac settles, everything falls into silence yet again.
Fit opens his eyes as little as he can manage. Lets them adjust to the darkness until he can make out the vague shape of Mike.
He’s just sitting there. Fit thinks he might have a hand carding through Pac’s hair, but from this angle it’s hard to tell.
Fit isn’t going to give him too much credit for the affection—he could easily just be pretending until he’s sure Pac’s asleep.
The more time that passes, the more Fit starts to feel less certain in that theory, though.
But then Mike is shifting. He grabs something from the bag, and Fit tenses getting ready to spring into action, and—
—It’s just a notebook.
The pages slide against each other, and then there’s the dull scratching sound of pencil against paper.
It’s… a comforting sound. Kind of. As long as Mike is writing—or sketching, maybe—he’s not trying to kill them. Fit still tenses whenever the scratching sound stops, but it’s usually just because Mike is considering something, or turning the page.
He spends his entire watch doing that. The only other time he reaches for the bag is so he can put the notebook away, and wake Fit up.
“Hey.” Mike nudges him. “Fit, wake up.”
Fit maybe isn’t the best actor. But he stretches, and gives his best attempt at looking like a guy who just woke up from a deep sleep.
“Your turn to keep watch.” Mike murmurs. “I didn’t hear anything strange.”
Then he disappears back to his bed, not lying down until Fit sits up.
“G’night.” Fit whispers.
“Boa noite.”
And now Fit has his entire watch to wonder what fucking game Mike is playing at.
…If he’s playing one at all, that is.
Because that would’ve been a perfect time to attack. Even if he knew Fit was wary of him, surely he wouldn’t have guessed that Fit would stay up to keep an eye on him. Right?
Mike’s smart. Fit knows that much. Even if elements of 2B2T don’t come to him naturally, he’s still holding his own pretty well. He just—It’s just—
—It just doesn’t feel like he has enough information right now.
But tonight, Mike didn’t attack them. Even though from his perspective it would’ve been a pretty damn good time to. That has to be good news.
Fit spends the rest of his watch trying to figure out who he can contact for wool dye, and where they can do the trade. He sends a message off to someone he kind of trusts, and thankfully gets an acceptance not too long after.
There’s bound to be obsidian around here in the caves somewhere. He could easily grab enough to make a portal. The problem would just be finding a path that’ll keep him away from people, and finding a place to put the portal that’s far enough away from their current base that anyone stumbling across it in the nether won’t be able to find them.
He could probably go back to that camp the others set up. Hopefully anyone willing to risk a portal trap will realise it’s been abandoned and assume they went through the nether to get to their next location.
By the time morning swings around, Fit’s tired. Nothing he hasn’t dealt with before, but he’ll definitely need to hole himself up somewhere for a power nap.
He lets Pac and Mike have a bit of a sleep in before moving to wake them.
“Hey, c’mon get up.” He shakes Mike’s shoulder, and then—more gently—Pac’s. “We got shit to do today.”
Mike groans, curling closer into Pac, but Pac urges him to sit up with a quiet laugh.
“Bom dia, Fit.” Pac says, a sleepy smile on his face.
“Uh, bom dia.” Fit offers him his own smile. “I hope you slept well.”
“As well as I could, I think.”
Mike puts his glasses on immediately. But Pac doesn’t make a move to put his prosthesis on yet, and Fit considers taking his own off again.
It’s not like it’d be any less dangerous than when he had it off before. They managed to get through that period of time without any incidents, and if Fit’s going to be mining his arm could probably use the break.
Carefully, he starts taking the arm off.
He’s aware of Pac watching him, before his eyes dart away to focus on Mike.
“I was thinking we’ll need some more healing potions soon.” Fit announces. “I have some watermelon seeds, we can plant them down here today. It might take a while before we find enough diamonds, so this’ll be as good a place as any, you know?”
“Alright.” Mike says, with Pac nodding along. “That sounds good.”
“I was also thinking we could split up.” Fit suggests. “I have a contact who’ll trade for brown wool dye, but I’ll need to take steps to make sure they don’t follow me back here. That’ll probably take me all day, right? So one of you can go looking for diamonds, while the other sets up the farm. If, uh… Only if you’re okay to do that with your injury, of course, Pac.”
“I’ll be fine.” Pac says dismissively, waving his concern away. “I can stick to farming, Mike can go mining.”
“Pac’s good at growing things, too.” Mike adds. “Although, we’ve never tried watermelons…”
“Hm, true.” Pac’s face scrunches up a little to think. “And I doubt there’s any internet here… definitely no library…”
“I’m sure you’ll do fine, Pac.” Fit says. “Just… mine a hole, fill it with dirt, plant the seeds, and water it. Should be easy enough, right?”
But Pac is already digging around for his notebook, murmuring to himself. It’s kind of endearing—and Mike seems to think so, too, judging by the smile on his face.
Fit leaves the two of them for breakfast. He’s pretty sure they’ll just be having bread again, but he figures he may as well cook up more of the meat before it goes bad. Plus, it’ll give his arm more time to rest.
By the time Fit finishes eating and washing up, Pac has his leg on, and him and Mike seem ready to go.
“How’s your leg?” Fit asks as he starts to don his own prosthesis.
“Better than before.” Pac admits.
“Good. You’ll need to go to the surface to get dirt.” Fit looks over at him. “Once you’re done setting things up, wait in here for me and I’ll take you up there.”
“Okay.”
“What are you doing before that?” Mike asks.
“I’ll be heading down with you. Looking for obsidian, yeah?”
Pac and Mike exchange a confused glance. Then Mike’s eyes widen.
“Oh my god—You’re going to the nether?” Mike exclaims.
“Que? The nether? Just like—Just like that? Just like—” Pac clicks his fingers. “Just casually? Just—Oh, you know, just going for a nice little stroll in hell.”
Fit can’t help but laugh a little. Right—Where they come from they’ve probably never even been to the nether, let alone used it for travel.
“This whole place is hell, Pac.” Fit says. He finishes donning his prosthesis and stands up, shouldering his bag in the process. “This far out you guys haven’t seen the worst of it, but trust me, it gets pretty rough. Nether travel’s just quicker.”
“It’s quicker?” Mike asks, looking like he’s itching to get out his notebook. “How?”
“Couldn’t tell you, Mike, sorry.” Fit shrugs. “One metre in there is eight metres out here. But, uh, I don’t really know why, you know?”
“Wow…” Pac’s eyes are sparkling with interest, his expression of awe lighting something warm in Fit’s chest. “You’ll have to take us there someday. Right, Mike?”
“Yes, definitely.” Mike says.
“Well, uh… take it easy, okay, guys?” Fit says placatingly. “The nether is still pretty dangerous, you know? But… yeah, we’ll probably have to nether travel soon. Once we’re done here.”
“That’s so exciting!” Pac sings, bouncing on his feet.
Even Mike looks pleased with him for once. And while Fit’s happy to have gotten that kind of reaction from them, he can’t help but worry their curiosity is going to get them killed.
He should probably take a detour to get some magma cream while he’s there today. Brew some fire resistance potions—just in case.
They set off after a quick reminder of the plan.
Mike stops Pac to show him the stream, and as much as Fit could keep walking, he finds himself pausing with them.
Pac’s awe and excitement is captivating. Maybe because he doesn’t bother hiding it. Unlike Mike—who seems more open than when he was talking with Fit, but still aware he has an audience.
But Pac is…
Well, it’s… interesting. That’s all. Seeing someone react with so much awe to something Fit sees often enough that it’s a minor annoyance if it registers to him at all. Cave system streams are as normal to him as the sand beneath their feet on the beach, or the waves of the ocean.
Pac just reacts to everything so genuinely. It’s not something you find often here—genuine reactions are mostly reserved for anger, bloodlust, or the fear distinct to newbies who haven’t learnt how to hide it yet. Pac, though…
Fit tears himself away from the scene, and continues down.
There might be lava streams on the upper levels of the cave, but he won’t be able to get enough obsidian from those. What he really needs is a lava lake, and the easiest way to find those is to head straight down to bedrock.
Pac will stay hovering around the same level as their camp as he looks for somewhere secluded to start the farm. Mike will probably end up on the same level as him, but he’ll reach it much slower since he’ll need to stop along the way for gold, and redstone. Once Pac and Mike stop fawning over the stream, they’ll be well and truly split up.
Fit’s used to doing this kind of thing alone—and he was the one who suggested it—but he is a little uneasy about it.
It’s not like they were able to scour the entire cave system for other people hiding out. Any one of them could easily stumble upon another group using this cave as a temporary base just like them.
Whatever. The only way to live in this world without risks is to hole yourself up in a completely self-sustaining base. And even then, there’s still base hunters. He can be careful, but risks have to be taken.
Fit knows he’s in the right place when the air gets warm and heavy. He follows along the path, grimly pleased as an oppressive heat starts to engulf him—almost a physical presence as he breathes it into his lungs.
It’ll be worse once he gets to the nether. At least here, water can survive.
He stumbles across a small stream, and pauses to take his bucket out and scoop some of the water up.
He can hear the slow bubbling of the lava already. All he should have to do is round the corner, and…
There it is.
Beautiful, but extremely deadly. Even just the heat from standing nearby could kill if you’re not careful.
Fit wastes no time pouring the water out and starting to mine. Pac’s probably waiting for him by now, and obsidian takes a long fucking time to break. He shoves the pieces of it into his pack, taking breaks only to sip at once cool, now unpleasantly warm water.
Mining obsidian is a tedious task, but Fit doesn't let himself fall into the rhythm of it. As much as the lava at the edges should be shallow, there’s no telling when it’ll get deep enough that the water couldn’t reach it.
He gets through it without any issues, though. Once he’s sure he has enough, he’s quick to leave the cavern.
It’s only once he feels like he can breathe again that he stops. He promised himself he’d take a nap. Just a quick thirty minute one is better than nothing, and Pac is probably fine to wait a little longer.
He digs himself into the wall, sets an alarm on his comm, and tries to fall asleep. Between the all-nighter, and the physical exertion from just earlier, it’s easier to slip into that murky unconsciousness than usual.
The alarm startles him awake.
He survived. He’s still in the same spot, he wasn’t robbed, and he’s a little bit more rested than before. Perfect.
He hurries back to Pac.
“Oi, Fit!” Pac calls out softly when he gets back to base. “Ready to go?”
Fit leans back against the wall—just to catch another quick moment of rest—then he straightens up again.
“Yeah.” He nods his head to the entrance of their base. “Let’s go.”
Pac seems to be walking fine still. His movements are a little awkward sometimes—especially when the path gets steep—but that seems to just be due to the shittiness of the prison-issue prosthetic leg itself. Apart from that, he looks comfortable. And Fit’s glad he managed to help.
“I built a drain system.” Pac’s telling him. “Like, so the water doesn’t get stuck and rot the roots, you know? You, uh—You have to do it with potted plants.”
“Okay, okay. Very interesting.”
Fit had really never put that much thought into it. He never needed the plants for long, anyway—wasn’t able to stick around in one place enough for that kind of thing to matter.
But he doesn’t tell Pac that. Pac looks so passionate explaining his system—it’s cute.
Interesting. It’s—It’s interesting.
“I made the path slope, too.” Pac continues. “So all the water that the plants don’t need—it’ll go into the drain, and then” —He mimics the movement with his hands— “slide down the drain, and collect in a bucket. And then you can use that water to water the plants again, you know?”
“Huh. That’s pretty smart, Pac.”
In the torchlight, Fit swears he can see Pac’s cheeks turn red.
“Oh, I mean…” Pac shrugs. “It’s, like… basic stuff, you know? Mike’s a lot better at engineering than me—if we had the resources, he could probably, uh, make, like, the whole thing automatic!”
“It’s still pretty impressive.” Fit lets his shoulder knock playfully into Pac’s. “I’ve never thought to do it like that before.”
Pac looks away from him, hand coming up to cover a smile.
“Th-Thank you, Fit.”
They reach the surface all too soon. After exchanging see you later s, Fit begins the trek back to the abandoned campsite.
He imagines he’ll be the last one back to their base. Hunger and exhaustion will eventually drive Mike back up no matter how successful he is, but Fit has a lot of walking ahead of him—it’s pretty much half a day just to get to the campsite from the cave.
The trip feels silent.
When he finally arrives, he allows himself a moment to rest. But when his eyelids start feeling heavy he quickly rouses himself. Wouldn’t be good to fall asleep in a place like this.
Ideally, he wouldn’t be making a portal this out in the open—he’d generally prefer not to invite portal trapping, thanks. But he doesn’t really have the time for that, so he works with what he’s got and digs a space into the ground a little bit away from the camp.
Assembling the portal is blissfully easy after the digging, and it isn’t long before he’s kneeling at the bottom of it, flint and steel in hand. A couple of tries and the sparks catch—his fingers buzzing as the purple energy springs to life, filling the space between the dark rock.
He stands up, takes a deep breath, and steps into the portal.
No matter how many times he does this the nausea never fades. His vision swims—the hum of the portal digging deep under his skin and making a home in his bones.
And then it’s over as quickly as it began.
He steps out, sweltering heat encompassing him. The sudden change of temperature would almost be dizzying, but Fit’s used to it. He’ll just have to remember to warn Pac and Mike—fire resistance isn’t exactly heat resistance, after all.
He’s spawned in a nether waste. No signs of life, except for a few zombie pigmen wandering around. Which reminds him—he switches his diamond boots out for gold ones, and starts walking.
Fit pulls out his comm, and checks his coords. It’s a bit of a back and forth process until he’s sure he’s heading in the right direction, but once he’s got his path he marches forward with determination. If he’s lucky, it’ll take him through a basalt delta, and he can grab some magma cream.
The comforting wide platform of the waste grows thinner—pushing him closer, and closer to the lava ocean below. He sticks to the edges, eyes battling against the dim, hazy nether lighting for any threats.
Ghasts can see through this shitty fog much better than humans can. Usually their high-pitched wailing gives themselves away, but ever since the explosion that took his arm, Fit’s hearing has been pretty fucking shot. When he first got here, the low whining of the ghasts was easy to pick up—now he relies purely on the signature shriek as they attack, and his quick reflexes.
Some of the netherrack right at the edge crumbles under his feet, and his heart rate spikes. He flattens himself further back against the wall, and continues inching along.
At least now that the cavern has opened up, he can see the outline of a basalt delta. Not directly in line with his path, but close by enough that a detour won’t be tedious.
Then the wall slopes back, giving Fit the safety of a wide, solid ground again. He checks his coords. Not long now until the meeting point.
Then he’ll just have to wait, and hope he isn’t walking into a trap.