Chapter 8

Kuroko's breath came in short, harsh pants, sawing in his chest. He could barely keep up with the brisk pace Hyuuga and the others had set, now that he had turned to running instead of being dragged along, but he was rested and fueled by just as much fear and adrenaline as they were, and his endurance hadn't flagged yet.

By the time they put the decrepit warehouse by the gymnasium behind them, cresting a hilltop that put them just within sight of the outskirts of town, darkness had started to creep in, bringing with it a stark drop in temperature as well as a chill of dread. Riko and Hyuuga were both gasping for air at this point, as was Hanamiya, though he was obviously trying to bely it, and for a moment they stopped at the top of the hill, hands bracing against trembling knees, chests heaving and faces shining with sweat.

And it was the brief pause in their desperate bid for escape that brought the reality of the situation crashing back over Kuroko's head, weighing in his chest like a ball of lead and sinking down into his guts, freezing in a way that had nothing to do with the crisp night air whipping through his hair. He thought of Kagami's parting words, his blanched face and tortured eyes that flashed with so much pain, emotional and physical, as he accepted the truth of his own demise. He thought of Aomine's sacrifice, his gritted teeth and stubborn look of resolution, and the obvious undercurrent of fear and grief beneath the forced bravado.

It took all of his willpower not to crumple to the ground and break down again, to curl up in the cool grass and sob until his ribs gave way, until his chest stopped aching like a fist had reached inside it and grabbed ahold of his heart. It was such an enormous, present loss, enough to drive him to his knees were it not for the underlying spark of grim determination, to make absolutely sure that Aomine's last, courageous effort had not been in vain.

"We have to find…" Hyuuga began at last, breaking the relative quiet but for the sound of labored breathing, "...somewhere to spend the night."

He looked to each of them in turn, searching, beseeching, and it was just like Hanamiya to be the first to respond.

"Such as?" he sneered, wiping the collar of his ratty shirt against his cheek.

"Somewhere with walls," Hyuuga replied shortly, baring his teeth and revealing the gaps between them. "Preferably with a roof, but I'm not that picky."

"We could go back…" Riko cut in abruptly, before Hanamiya could retort.

"Back?" Kuroko asked, finding his voice all of a sudden and looking at her in confusion.

"To the base," Riko explained, standing up straight and cradling the radio in her hands to her chest. "It's the safest place we know of, right?"

"Did you forget," Hanamiya drawled, "that when you left that place it was crawling with zombies?"

"Not anymore," Kuroko said, looking back at Riko, because he thought he might have understood her line of thinking. "It's been days… and if what you said is true and the main horde is currently heading for… the warehouse…"

He trailed off, unable to follow that thought to its logical conclusion. Unable to voice the fact that when the shambling mass of zombies reached their destination, it would mean the fatal fulfillment of Aomine's plan, if he hadn't already met his end at the hands of a newly-undead Kagami by now.

He couldn't bear to dwell on that thought, couldn't stand to picture it, and so he was grateful when Riko picked up where he left off.

"If the horde is at the warehouse now, they can't be at the base anymore," she reasoned. "Sure, there might be some stragglers left, but… if we can just get back to the basement…"

"We could bar the door and be safe until morning," Hyuuga concluded, eyes widening with something like tentative relief… something like hope.

"Then what the hell are we still standing here for?" Hanamiya demanded impatiently. "Our head start's not gonna last long, and I'm pretty used to this whole being alive thing… I'd like to keep it that way."

.

.

The town itself was mostly quiet, when they reached it, the streets full of debris and decay and deep black shadows, but otherwise deserted. Every now and then a distant moan or crash would ring out, but the few zombies they did encounter were dealt with shortly and efficiently, without a struggle, just the sound of a gunshot and a heavy, dead thump where they fell.

The little group moved slowly now, favoring stealth over speed as they crouched behind the husks of abandoned cars and empty dumpsters, four pairs of eyes scanning each new surrounding area diligently, making sure the coast was clear before anyone proceeded. They passed by the van that had been their first shelter under Kiyoshi's reign, picked clean to its metal bones and missing its front windshield, and Kuroko swallowed past the memories of those they'd lost and kept moving. Before long his breath was misting before him beneath the baleful glow of the moon, his limbs trembling with cold as well as lingering shock and fatigue, and he was distantly glad that Hanamiya and Riko took turns aiming around corners with the pistol, because he doubted he could even hold it with the way his hands were shaking.

Finally, they reached the site of their old, forsaken base. The window was still unboarded, a few pieces of splintered wood littered around its frame, and the floor, when they cautiously entered through the exposed opening, was a mess of broken glass that crunched under their feet from the shattered floor-to-ceiling mirrors.

The remaining exercise equipment was no longer braced against the door, however; one of the first noticeable changes to the place. It had been shoved haphazardly up against the wall, leaving scuffs and patches bare of glass on the floor in its wake. The other difference that leapt out to Kuroko, since the last time any of them had been here, was the complete absence of even a trace of zombies. There weren't even any remains from the dozens that had been felled in the struggle when the base was overrun. Perhaps they too had been moved, or perhaps the voracious invaders were no longer differentiating between living and dead flesh. It was impossible to say, but in any case, the former gym was certainly empty.

A sharp intake of breath incited him to look up from his cautious examination of the equipment that had been pushed away from the door, and turn to Riko, who had made the sound.

"Look," she breathed, pointing with the hand that wasn't covering her mouth to the back of the room. Kuroko looked, and so did the other members of their party.

The door that led to the veritable bunker of a basement was wide open, gaping on its hinges and revealing the dark staircase that led down below.

"But…" Kuroko murmured, following on numb legs as the group crept cautiously toward the conspicuous opening, "Akashi-kun...the others…"

They stopped just shy of the doorway, hesitating, and to Kuroko's surprise, Hanamiya was the first to poke his head through and peer into the blackness of the descending stairwell.

"They must still be alive, then," he announced as he withdrew, lofty scowl ever in place on his face.

"What?" Riko asked, and Kuroko could hear the desperation in her voice, and feel his own heart rate increasing at that casual diagnosis.

Hanamiya laughed dryly, taking apparent malicious pleasure in their disbelief.

"C'mon now, use your brains," he said. "The door was barred shut, but there's no sign of a struggle. The latches are still intact, so it must have been opened from the inside."

There was a moment of silence as the undeniable logic of that sank in.

"I hate to say it," Hyuuga interjected at last, "but he's right. This doesn't look like a forced entry."

"Could they still be down there?" Riko asked.

"What, at night with the door wide open?" Hanamiya shot back scornfully, rolling his eyes.

"There's only one way to find out," Kuroko spoke up, forging ahead of the group without further delay and starting down the stairs with trepidation, bracing one hand against the wall to keep from slipping in the dark.

A hand on his shoulder almost startled him into stumbling, and probably careening headlong down the remainder of the steep flight.

"I should lead," Riko said, the short barrel of the pistol in her grip glinting in the moonlight filtering behind her. "Just in case."

"Yes, yes, ladies first," Hanamiya simpered, shoving Hyuuga forward roughly and bringing up the rear. "Let's just get out of the open, shall we?"

"Are you going to close the door?" Kuroko asked, craning his neck to try and meet Hanamiya's half-lidded eyes, without success.

"You sayin' I shouldn't?" he retorted, already yanking the handle inward.

"What if the others come back?" Kuroko insisted.

"Then we'll let 'em in," Hanamiya shot back impatiently. "But I'm not leaving our goddamn flank exposed."

In the next instant, a heavy thud and metallic clank signaled that he had shut the door and latched it, reducing the light to a thin stripe around the inside of the doorframe. The stairway and the basement below were plunged into total darkness.

Fumbling down the stairs in Riko's wake, Kuroko felt along the wall for a light switch, and finally located one at the bottom-most step. He almost flicked it on immediately, but then considered that the sudden snap to brightness might startle the others enough to fall, or cause Riko to reflexively pull the trigger.

"I found a light," he announced instead, and then lifted his thumb under the switch.

Nothing happened.

"The fuck you did," Hanamiya said sardonically, and Kuroko tried again, moving the switch up and down, with no response.

"The generator must be down," Riko murmured, her voice hushed. "There might still be some matches here somewhere, but until we find them… everyone stay close."

Following her into the void, Kuroko mentally filled in the blank. Who knew what might be lurking in the dark down here, waiting silently to strike.

"What about the radio light?" Hyuuga asked softly, from directly next to Kuroko. He jumped, despite himself. Everything seemed so much slower and louder in the all-consuming blackness. He wondered if the others could hear the frantic rattle of his heartbeat in his chest.

As an answer, Hanamiya switched on the portable radio, illuminating its face with a soft orange glow as a hiss of static filled the air. It wasn't bright enough to see more than a few centimeters in any direction, but Hanamiya held it up like a lantern anyway, as though trying to get his bearings.

"Yeah, we're not gonna be able to see shit 'til morning," he said grimly. "We should just stay put here and sleep in shifts."

Kuroko agreed to this plan, joining the collective murmur of assent from the others, even though he knew with absolute certainty that he would not be sleeping a wink tonight.

.

.

Exhaustion must have won out and caused him to drift off at some point, because a muffled crash woke him with a violent start, his head smacking into the wall behind him as he sat bolt upright. It was still dark, but the sliver of light around the obstruction of the basement door was several shades brighter now, warm and clear like sunlight.

The radio was illuminated again, though he'd heard Riko advise Hanamiya to shut it off to conserve battery at some point during the night, when he'd been fiddling with the dials for something to do. In its weak radius of light, Kuroko could make out the taut lines of alarm on the faces of all his comrades, and knew the loud noise hadn't been his imagination.

"What do you think?" Riko whispered, the rasp of her voice barely audible in the ringing silence.

Hyuuga gave her a helpless look, "It's been quiet all night," he said, in little more than an exhale.

A soft thud and a crunch overhead had all of them tensing up, all eyes on the black square of the door floating in its surrounding filament of light, the last barrier between their huddled encampment and the unknown. Riko had her hands on the pistol in her lap again, clenching around the handle.

None of them had suggested even once to open the chamber and count how many bullets they had left. The only remaining sanity lay in willful ignorance.

Several more tinkling crunches followed the first, the unmistakable sound of multiple pairs of feet, making their way across the glass-strewn floor above. The footsteps sounded heavy, and rhythmic, moving with purpose, nothing like the meandering shuffle of the undead.

A loud, sudden rapping on the door echoed in the darkness after the footsteps stopped.

"Akashi-kun…?" Kuroko ventured, softly, but the voice that followed the sound was unfamiliar.

"Hello?" it shouted authoritatively, easily carrying through the massive door. "Is anyone there?"

The group exchanged a glance, not daring to respond, uncertainty and terror on almost all of their faces. Hanamiya, naturally, being the only exception.

"Honestly," he muttered contemptuously, before raising his voice. "We're down here! Who the hell're you?"

"I'm not going to hurt you," the voice said, in lieu of answering. "Can you open the door?"

A silent argument passed between Hyuuga and Riko, for several seconds, all while Hanamiya glowered at the lot of them. Finally, Kuroko broke in.

"I think… we should see what they want," he said.

"But -" Hyuuga protested.

"They must be other survivors," Kuroko reasoned. "Perhaps they need shelter, or are here to try and help us."

"You haven't seen the survivors that go around killing and looting each other's camps, have you?" Hyuuga sighed.

"What's to loot?" Riko asked, holding up their tiny, single pistol demonstratively. "We've got nothing worth stealing, and we're not worth killing."

"I agree," Kuroko said, lowering his gaze. "We have nothing left to lose."

"Three to one. You're outvoted, champ," Hanamiya sniggered, getting to his feet. "Let's go up and greet our guests."

Kuroko noticed that Riko stayed close to Hanamiya as they made their way back up the stairs, keeping the pistol tight in her grip, though she aimed it down to reduce the risk of shooting him in the back. When the door was unlocked and creaked open, she raised it around his shoulder, at the ready.

On the other side of the door were three adult men in full riot gear, armed to the teeth, protected by spotless face shields and bodysuits. The two in back were each holding assault rifles, currently pointed at the ceiling, and the third in front had his own weapon strapped onto his back. In comparison, their motley little group sporting only bruises, bloodstains, and one pitiful little pistol between them might as well have been a handful of sharpened sticks staring down the mouth of a wood chipper.

"Put that down, miss," the man in front said gently. "Before someone gets hurt."

Out of his peripheral vision, Kuroko saw Riko shakily lower the pistol, and then heard the clunk as she dropped it.

"You kids alright?" the man asked, sweeping his gaze over them behind his face shield. Kuroko glanced at his company, none of whom seemed capable of responding before the man went on. "I apologize for the delay, another patrol picked up your signal last night and sent for backup, but we weren't in the area."

"A-another patrol?" Kuroko got out at last, confusion and shock clamoring inside him as he tried in vain to put together the pieces.

"They were recovering a missing squad car," the man explained. "Apparently the search brought them to a massive wave bearing down on some old warehouse… Needless to say, they had their hands full, but we got to you as soon as we could."

"Okay, so who are you?" Hanamiya demanded, the first to recover from his disbelief, and while he was clearly still trying to sound superior, the rigid set of his shoulders and clenched fists betrayed his unease. "What do you want with us?"

"My name is Shirogane," the man answered calmly. "Detective Shirogane. And I want to take you all to safety."

.

.

The crash that had roused Kuroko, it turned out, had been the door to the gym being knocked off its hinges. And just outside of it, idling on the street, was a black armored vehicle, which they were all promptly shepherded inside. Shirogane had not seemed particularly keen to answer the tide of questions that came pouring out of all of them once they were made aware of his intentions, and neither did the other occupants of the vehicle, all of whom were wearing face masks of some kind, as well as thick protective gear.

"Can you at least say where you're taking us?" Riko asked desperately, after they had been driving for almost half an hour, the skeletal little town they had survived in thus far falling further and further behind them.

"To a secure government facility in Sapporo," Shirogane replied. "There you will be placed in quarantine for about a week or two, and then integrated into the community."

"And how d'you plan on driving us to a whole other island?" Hanamiya asked skeptically, bracing himself as the vehicle lurched over a massive crack in the road.

"We are only driving to the port of Yokohama," Shirogane said. "There's a small base set up near the shore. The second leg of your journey will be by air."

Kuroko hadn't anticipated that by air, he meant they would be traveling by helicopter, but there was no mistaking the jet black vehicle perched on top of the heavily-guarded base when they reached the port. He also hadn't anticipated the levels of security they would have to pass through in order to enter. By the time they made it through multiple stops and several sliding gates topped with razor wire, the entire group had been given face masks and sterile gloves, and had their bloody, grimy arms rubbed down with alcohol and injected with needles.

"Tetanus shot," Shirogane explained, while a nurse placed a small bandage on each new puncture mark. "You'll receive the rest of your inoculations, as well as a full physical exam, when you arrive in Sapporo."

"You aren't coming with us?" Kuroko asked.

"Unfortunately, no, I have to stay and run things here," Shirogane replied. "I assure you, though, you are in good hands."

.

.

The flight to Hokkaido was mostly silent, but for the deafening whir of the chopper and the pilot, stone-faced and straight-backed, giving out occasional status updates and location markers every hour or so, voice magnified by his headset. At some point, a man Kuroko assumed to be the co-pilot distributed packets of food to everyone. It was the first any of them had eaten in almost a day, and though the various bits of grain and jerky were tough and nearly flavorless, they devoured every morsel with famished enthusiasm.

They arrived in Sapporo just as the sun dipped below the horizon, the mountains bathed in a cool blue twilight as clouds rushed in from over the sea. Below, Kuroko thought he could make out the roofs of buildings, and the flicker of lights, of electricity, concentrated around what he could only assume was the site of the government base. The helicopter landed on the roof of a white building surrounded by enormous steel fences, illuminated by rows and rows of little yellow lights, and beyond them, large expanses of empty tarmac that brought to mind an abandoned airport.

But this place was anything but abandoned. The moment they jumped down from the chopper, they were greeted by more survivors, three of them shrouded in yellow hazmat suits, who led them through a set of doors and down into the facility below. And there they were traded off to even more attendants in decontamination gear, who brought them through several heavy metal doors that required identification cards to unlock, and down a long hallway that branched off in several directions to a room with white walls and a spotless tile floor.

The efficiency of the place reminded Kuroko distantly of a well-oiled machine. He and his companions passed from hand to hand so quickly that it almost made his head spin; from sterile white room to sterile white room. Their names and ages were jotted down and verified multiple times, their temperatures taken, their eyes, mouths and ears shone with lights, and at some point, they were briefly separated to be individually showered, their torn, grimy clothes discarded and replaced with identical pale blue, dry-cleaned garments Kuroko was fairly sure had once been hospital scrubs. It was such an overwhelming shock to be properly clean and warm and safe - were they safe? - that he was almost brought to tears, and he could see the same dumb disbelief on the faces of his companions when they were reunited. None of them had said a word since landing in what appeared for all the world to be a massive, bulletproof, fully-functional hospital, the enormity of their rescue almost too much to process.

Their group was placed in a holding cell together, by another man in a hazmat suit who introduced himself simply as a nurse. It was a white rectangular room with more than one large glass window, the one closest to them marked with a black biohazard symbol that was impossible to miss. Inside it was furnished with only the essentials; a toilet, a sink, a single table and chair, and a long bench bolted along one wall. The nurse explained to them that the opposite wall stored four fold-out cots, and that meals would be delivered to them twice a day. They would be visited by a medical nurse to check on their physical well being, as well as a psychologist to counsel them about the trauma they had experienced, at least every other day. They were also welcome to request additional enrichment in the form of books or games if they wished.

Personally, Kuroko couldn't help but see the parallels to a prison cell, but considering where they had come from and what was happening around them in the world, he wouldn't call this an overreaction.

Then the nurse slid a card from around his neck into a slat beside the door to the room, and it hissed open audibly. The four of them traipsed inside without a protest or question, accepting this prison of safety over the terror of their previous freedom.

It was difficult to know what to do with themselves, after spending such a long time hunted and terrified, fighting for their very lives. Their cell wasn't any quieter than the basement had been the night before, the hum of fluorescent lights overhead and the muffled sounds of the constant machinery of the facility itself filtering in from all sides, but the sudden lack of action was jarring. Kuroko himself found that he couldn't fight a persistent feeling of restlessness, and judging by the way his companions milled aimlessly about in the tiny room, absently picking things up and setting them down again, they all felt the same.

Riko was the first to take a seat, sinking onto the bench beside one of the side windows; a round, porthole-like opening that only looked out on another neighboring cell. Judging by the shadows that had passed in front of it from time to time, it was also occupied by survivors in quarantine, awaiting their own release, and she gazed through the glass with a detached sort of interest for a moment, before suddenly sitting bolt upright.

"Kuroko-kun," she said, her voice going tight. "Come over here."

Kuroko blinked, and did as she asked, peering through the window over her shoulder, his brow furrowed with confusion. He felt a jolt run up his spine, though, as he registered what - or who - he was seeing.

"Is that…?"

She trailed off, but now that he got a good look, it was obvious why she had called him over. Sitting at the folding table they could just glimpse from this angle was a tall figure in blue scrubs like the ones they all wore, a book in one hand and glasses perched as ever on the bridge of his nose.

Having thought he would never see him again, being brought by sheer chance within shouting distance of Midorima Shintarou was a more staggering relief than Kuroko could begin to express. He didn't know if he would be able to hear if they did actually shout, though.

"Do you think…?" Riko began, craning her neck to try to see the rest of the room from where she was sitting, all but pressing her cheek to the glass.

Kuroko just shook his head to convey his disbelief, though she wasn't looking his way. He did notice, though, as he tore his eyes from the window to examine the strip of wall beside it, that there was some kind of panel set into the white expanse, with two unmarked buttons below what appeared to be a speaker.

Without thinking, he leaned forward and pressed the first button, bringing his face closer to the window.

"Midorima-kun?" he asked tentatively, and the figure at the table jumped, startled green eyes lifting from his book to cut to the window. They immediately flew wide, and his mouth shaped the syllables for 'Kuroko,' before he rose to his feet.

Up close, Midorima looked exactly as Kuroko had last seen him. Perhaps a little thinner and paler in the face, but then, they all were by this point. He leaned one hand against the wall where, presumably, another communication panel was embedded on his side of the window.

"Kuroko," he repeated, aloud this time, his voice soft and rasping with disbelief as it crackled through the speaker. "Riko, you're both alive…"

"We are," Kuroko said, more for reassurance than affirmation of the rather self-evident statement.

"What's going on?" Hyuuga's voice asked from over Kuroko's shoulder, trying to glimpse what he and Riko were looking at.

"Midorima-kun's alive, he's in the next cell over," Riko explained, before turning back to the window and pressing the button to speak, her movements jerky with restless agitation. "What about the others? Akashi-kun?"

"He's here," Midorima said, already shaking his head before Kuroko opened his mouth. "Not in this room, but the same block as Takao and I."

"Takao-kun survived as well?" Kuroko asked.

"Yes. The remainder of Akashi's group has been divided into two cells. Takao, Mitobe and myself in one, Akashi and Murasakibara in the other."

Kuroko didn't ask where Midorima's roommates were at the current moment, in favor of other questions scrabbling to the surface.

"How is it you're here? How did you get away?"

"The same day the base was overrun, hours after the fact, a group of men decked out like soldiers sprung us from the basement. They were led by a detective, who introduced himself as -"

"Shirogane," Riko interrupted, just as Kuroko hit the talk button to do the same, pressing her thumb to her lip and lowering her gaze.

It took a few seconds for the implication to sink in for Kuroko, but once it did, he averted his eyes from the window as well, letting out a low breath. If they hadn't run… if they'd gone along with Akashi's plan and stayed huddled in the basement until help arrived, perhaps they would all have all made it here together. Perhaps Kagami and Aomine would still be alive. He was right after all…

Swallowing hard before he could succumb to bitter tears of regret, Kuroko lifted his head and looked back at Midorima, who was watching him with a crease of concern in his otherwise stoic face.

"And your group, Kuroko?" he asked hesitantly, likely reading the raw, still bleeding grief etched into Kuroko's face. "What's become of…?"

He trailed off, as a single tear escaped and tracked silent down Kuroko's face. He impatiently wiped it away with his thumb.

"Kagami-kun…" he choked out, before swallowing again and starting over. "We fled the base when the attack came. We lost Himuro-kun in the struggle... but we were able to commandeer an old police car and drive it to the warehouse where we found Hyuuga-san and Hanamiya-san…"

"Who?" Midorima asked, before shaking his head and pushing his glasses up briskly on his nose. "Never mind, what happened after that?"

Kuroko looked over to Riko, at a loss for words. She seemed to understand, because she leaned in and pressed the talk button in his stead, her voice going low and careful.

"Kagami-kun was bitten during an excursion," she said stiltedly. "And a wave of what must have been a thousand zombies was close behind when we returned to the warehouse. It seemed like there was no way we could escape them, especially with Aomine-kun's leg - we weren't going to just leave him, we wouldn't have... but he volunteered to stay behind."

She fell silent, covering her mouth with one hand, but Midorima was nodding slowly even though the story remained incomplete, realization dawning on his face through the glass as he seemed to piece the rest together.

"So he sacrificed himself to give you all a fighting chance," he murmured, his face blanched and his green eyes downcast. "That sounds… horrific, but I can't say that I'm surprised. It sounds like the sort of thing he'd do."

"I'm sorry," Kuroko said, and even to his own ears his voice sounded tight. "I don't think I can talk about this anymore."

"No, of course," Midorima said immediately. "...I am glad that you managed to survive, Kuroko."

Kuroko nodded numbly, but with the awful snakes of guilt and tremendous sorrow that twisted in his guts, he didn't think that he could say the same.

.

.

After nearly two weeks in holding, a nurse came to their cell with a strange request.

"Kuroko-kun?" she prompted through the window, her voice crackling over the intercom. "Come with me, please."

"What?" Hyuuga asked, getting to his feet in a rush. "Why?"

"Just Kuroko," the nurse said firmly, but her voice was quick to soften. "Don't worry, he's not in any trouble, and I won't keep him long."

Kuroko hesitantly got to his own feet, sweeping his gaze around the room to find everyone's eyes on him, worry and confusion on all of their faces.

The airlock slid open just long enough for him to step out into the hallway, and then hissed shut behind him with a kind of cold finality that chased a chill down his spine. He was alone.

Not truly; there was of course the woman beside him, covered head to toe in a bright hazmat suit, with another bundle of yellow fabric tucked under one arm. Her face was difficult to read, however, with the visor over her eyes and the respirator covering her mouth and nose.

"Hello, Kuroko-kun," she greeted him, inclining her head apologetically. "Sorry about this, but it could be our last chance to get you by yourself."

"What do you mean?" Kuroko asked, looking up at her skeptically.

"I'll explain on the way," she assured him, turning to lead him down another hallway. "The short story is that I have another patient who won't stop asking for you."

That got his attention, and with no further questions - though he had them in dozens, to be sure - he fell in step beside her and followed her lead.

"Strictly speaking, I'm not allowed to bring you back here," the nurse said, as she brought him to a pair of secure, locked doors, in a part of the facility he'd never seen before. "But your quarantine ends in two days, and then you'll be inducted into the system and out of our hands. Put this on."

Upon closer inspection, Kuroko saw that the lump of yellow plastic she was clutching was in fact another hazmat suit, identical to her own, which she was now holding out to him. After a beat of hesitation, he took it from her and stepped into it, pulling the zipper at the front up to his throat. It was not even a little bit comfortable, and swished loudly when he walked, but he wasn't going to question its necessity.

"You said you're taking me to see someone?" he asked, pulling visor and respirator down over his face.

She nodded, and slid her key card into the lock. The doors parted immediately, leading to another series of halls and windows to rooms, the purposes of which Kuroko could only speculate. It seemed this place was much bigger inside than it had appeared on the outset. Just how many people managed to survive?

"He was brought in just before you and your group were found," the nurse went on. "He'd been badly bitten, but hadn't turned, even hours later."

"What?" Kuroko asked, startled, though his voice came out rather muffled now.

"He'd lost a lot of blood, but was still lucid enough to speak to Shirogane's officers, so they sent him here, all the while waiting and prepared for a delayed reaction… but it never came."

Kuroko kept staring at her, desperately searching and trying to understand, though he wasn't able to glean much information from what he could see of her face, and doubted she'd be able to interpret the confusion and disbelief on his own.

"Now he's been here almost two weeks," she went on steadily, "and still shows no sign of starting the change, not even a fever. There's a slim, but real possibility that he could be immune."

"And he's been asking for me?" Kuroko asked, attempting with all his strength to hold his emotions at bay. He didn't dare think it, didn't dare hope - but still, was there a chance…?

The nurse slid her key to unlock another set of doors, and ushered him through them quickly.

"Yes," she said. "Incessantly, he's always bringing your name up, and he's described you to his psychologist so well that she could probably paint your likeness. I haven't told him that we have you in confirmed custody yet, because he would probably try to break out and see you on his own, and his leg's in pretty bad shape."

A swooping sensation in Kuroko's stomach took him by surprise, and he almost stumbled and face-planted on the linoleum floor. "His leg?"

"Looks like a bullet wound," the nurse nodded, continuing on as Kuroko followed her numbly, robbed of further response. "A through-and-through, barely healed, and there's definitely some bone damage under the surface. He's refusing surgery until we tell him whether or not we've got you here, though. He's also refused to have blood work done, which is not only dangerous to him, but it could reveal the reason he hasn't succumbed to the virus to us, and that knowledge might be the first step toward developing a working vaccine. That's why I've brought you here today."

On the last word, she stopped in front of a wide, glass window to another holding cell, emblazoned with the same black biohazard symbol as the one Kuroko shared with his companions. In fact it was identical, down to the long white bench studded into the side wall. And sitting on that bench, next to a pair of crutches, wearing pale blue scrubs, a splint on his leg, and several bandages on his arms and neck, was -

"Aomine-kun."

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Two Weeks Later

Aomine would be very glad to leave this place behind. His solitary holding cell, while more secure and comfortable than any of the previous shelters he'd stayed in, was starting to drive him a little stir-crazy in the month that he'd been confined within its sterile white walls.

It wasn't a shortage of things to do or people to talk to; in fact he was probably visited a little too often for his liking by nurses and scientists carrying charts and vials and clipboards, and the past few weeks had been much more engaging now that he knew Tetsu was alive - he was alive - and was finally allowed to see him. It was just that, even with all of that taking up his days, there were still moments and sometimes entire hours where he found himself staring at the wall opposite and imagining it pulling closer, feeling like the air was being sucked out of the room, and his only distraction was the constant reel of gore and screams lodged in his mind, the painful, physical wrenching in his guts that would tip him over into despair or vomit if he let it carry on.

According to his shrink, that was called post-traumatic stress disorder. According to Tetsu, it was called being human.

It really was such a relief to see him alive. Such a relief to talk to him, to finally see his face without the mask, now that his own quarantine had been lifted at last. To finally feel him without the hazmat suit in the way.

The first day he'd come, as soon as the nurse let him inside, Aomine had clutched him around the baggy plastic shoulders and sobbed uncontrollably into his chest. Unable to see all of his face but still knowing it was him under there; it was him, it was Tetsu, he was here and that meant he'd somehow, miraculously survived the hell he'd run headlong into.

They'd sat side by side for hours that night, talking about everything, about Tetsu's escape, about the basement and the helicopter, about Midorima and Akashi and both of their experiences in holding… about Kagami.

Aomine still couldn't close his eyes for long without seeing the ghastly dead face of his friend appear behind their lids. Without hearing the gurgling gnash of his teeth tearing strips from Aomine's shoulder, then his neck... the wet, horrible smack of flesh as Aomine raised the club left at his side and brought it down on his skull. Again. And again.

He'd been reliving that final surge of terror and fervor over and over for weeks, that moment when his reason suddenly fled and instinct took over as he frantically scrambled for a weapon to beat the monster off of him. One last desperate plea that he wouldn't die here, not now, not like this… the streams of tears that mixed with the blood running down his neck as Kagami fell heavy and reeking into his lap, and didn't move again.

The weight of him across Aomine's legs was limp and inescapable, as Aomine fell back panting against the ground and waited to join him, wondering if he would see Kise, or Satsuki... He waited for hours.

And now here he was.

He'd been kept a little longer than the standard two weeks, and his nurse had explained that it was both in consideration of his injuries, especially his bum leg, and also to permit a little additional time for on-site testing. After today, though, all that was going to change.

Tetsu had elected to stay even after the rest of his group was released, so that he could be with Aomine until it was his turn to leave this place. Aomine could vividly recall how he'd looked when he said it, "I'm not leaving you behind again."

The only thing that had gotten him out of bed during his time in holding was the flickering belief, the hope, that Tetsu had made it here; that somehow, someday, he was going to see him again. He had nothing else left, nothing in the world left to cling to, just that seemingly-impossible shred of hope to keep him from giving up and rolling over for good. ...But now, he had those words to give him the strength to get up and face the day.

Especially today. Everything was going to change after today.

As soon as he spotted Tetsu coming around the frame of his window, he was already pushing himself off the bench to struggle to his feet. His leg was on the mend, though it still hurt like hell, and from what the nurses told him, it was doubtful whether he would ever run again. At least it was starting to sound like someday he might walk.

Gathering his crutches under his armpits, he hobbled to the door to greet Tetsu and his accompanying nurse, a grin that he imagined might be getting a little less forced over time crossing his face as the airlock slid open.

"Good morning, Aomine-kun," Tetsu greeted him, with a very tiny smile of his own. "You're looking well."

It was a half-truth at best; neither of them were even close to being well after a solid month of containment, to say nothing of the harrowing ordeal that had preceded it, but still, Aomine appreciated the sentiment.

"Well yeah," he said jokingly, bracing his weight on one crutch so he could reach the other arm out to pull Tetsu into a hug. He came readily enough, accustomed to the ritual by now. Familiar human touch was so difficult to come by in this place, and both of their psychologists had openly suggested taking any opportunity to be in contact, as a way to cope with the trauma. And it was true that being near and especially touching did seem to take the edge off and make everything seem like it might not be so bad, but then, Tetsu had always had that effect on him.

He squeezed Tetsu one-handed and sought out his gaze. That, too, Tetsu gave him freely.

"You ready?"

Tetsu paused, and then squeezed him back, "I do believe that's my line. I'm the one who's come to retrieve you, after all."

Aomine's smile widened at that, without him having to even think about it this time. "It'll be different after today, huh?"

He searched Tetsu's face, looking for anticipation, for relief, for joy or even fear, but as usual, he could find nothing that would point him in the direction of how he was actually feeling. He was like the future that way. Like the rest of the world outside the assured security of these winding halls and sliding doors. There was no telling what was waiting for them out there. Only the unknown, huge and new and terrifying, and yet something they couldn't move forward without passing through.

Tetsu still hadn't responded by the time Aomine released him, but after a moment, he reached his hand down to carefully link their fingers, and Aomine found himself thinking that no matter what lay before them, no matter what strange, uncertain new life they were thrust into once they stepped outside those doors, he was ready, so long as they would be facing it together.

"Yes," Tetsu was saying, looking up at him with clear blue eyes that held the future. "It will be."

The End

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((A word of advice: when you've written yourself into a corner and can't think of any possible way to bring your tangled, convoluted story to a close, your first step should be to stop trying to shock your audience. A predictable end is always better than a surprise that fails to deliver.

I honestly didn't mean to take so long to finish this one, it's been left hanging since 2014 because I simply couldn't think of any way to end it that felt even slightly earned. And you know what, the moment I stopped trying so hard and made peace with an admittedly pretty cliché resolution, the rest of it just fell into place. It's not perfect, but I don't think it's ever going to be, and I'm okay with letting it go out on this (ambiguous but still tentatively hopeful) note.

This story may be old, but I think it still deserved to be completed, and going back through it for this installment was such a trip. If you're here because you read this fic when it first came out, and have been waiting all this time for the conclusion, then thank you so much for your patience, I apologize deeply for the wait, and I hope I was able to follow through to a fitting end for you. If you're reading this for the first time now, then thanks so much for checking this story out! It's a relic from my past, but I still stand by the majority of what happens here.

Comments and kudos are greatly appreciated. It's a huge relief to finally put this fic to bed, it's been hanging over my head for over half a decade, and at long, long last, it's over now. Thank you all for sticking with me. 3
-Shinsun))