I'd wanted to do this from Luke's POV, but he kept going on and on about why he deserved this to happen to him. So I swapped to Guy for a more sympathetic view of the oncoming tragedy.

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The Tower of Rem lay on the opposite side of the world; as such, they ended up having to stop for the night despite the urgency of the situation. Guy knew were all tired, completely drained by recent events—and the knowledge of what would come tomorrow rested heavily upon all of their minds. They were going to lose him. Guy was going to lose him. Luke, his childhood best friend, was going to die tomorrow, and there was nothing he could do about it. He hated it, hated it so much, was appalled by the way that the leaders of the world merely stood there and ordered Luke to go out and die for the sake of the world. It was typical, he thought. While he understood that leadership sometimes required difficult decisions, it seemed to him that they were always more than ready to sacrifice the individual for the sake of their kingdoms. Yes, the need was greater for the preservation of the whole over the part, but they could show a little more sympathy for the shoots they so callously pruned off of the plant.

Luke…surely it had to be hardest for him, of them all. There had been very little conversation as they'd flown towards the tower of Rem—no one wanted to talk about what was going on, and small talk was almost disrespectful when in the company of one going to his death. They'd all been sneaking glances at Luke, sitting where he was back on the far right side of the aisle. He hadn't spoken a word since they'd left the cathedral, refusing to meet anyone's eyes. When Guy had looked back, Luke was gazing blankly out the window, chin resting in his palm. He didn't know what to make of it. Luke was normally very emotionally transparent, but he seemed to be holding himself in check quite well, at the moment. If anything, his expression seemed to be one of thoughtfulness, with a hint of resignation. Guy….hadn't been sure what to expect, really. Luke was usually very forthcoming with what he was feeling, but this was a rather exceptional circumstance. He wanted to slap the idiot over and over for volunteering to do such a stupid, stupid thing, but he knew that if he caved and begged Luke not to do it, the others would just haul him off and away. So the best thing to do was to stay here, by his side, until the end. That much he owed him.

They'd split apart for dinner upon reaching their overnight place of stay, before realizing that there was only one diner in this size of town. Luke hadn't shown up, and Tear volunteered to go find him. Neither returned until after the meal had long since finished, and neither seemed particularly concerned about having missed it. Guy saved the less perishable parts of the meal and offered them to the two when they as a group went up to their rooms, but Luke had just softly shook his head in refusal, saying that it didn't really matter at this point anyway. Tear didn't even respond. They had two rooms for the night, and though no one wanted to say it, everyone wanted to be in the one with Luke in it. This was his last night with them.

In the end, the right was quietly ceded to those Luke was closest to—namely, Tear, Guy, and Natalia remained with him while Jade and Anise took the other room.

Guy listened to Luke's breathing for a long, long while after they'd settled down for the night. He was worried about him, but it didn't sound like Luke was….crying or anything. It was a peaceful in-and-out rhythm. Luke had immediately rolled over facing the wall after crawling in bed, so all Guy could see was the back of Luke's head. He had to resist the temptation to reach out his hand to brush his hair; the remnants of Luke's once abundant locks splayed out over his pillow in a disarray. A sign of change, he had said. Guy wished that one part of Luke's old self had stayed with him through the chaos of the post-Akzeriuth period: his sense of self-preservation. The old Luke wouldn't have resignedly offered his life up for the sake of the world, Guy felt. Why had he had to lose all of his confidence in himself in exchange for becoming a better individual? Perhaps with enough time, he would have been able to regain some of his self esteem. But now his time was cut off, the end of his very existence looming in front of him. Now he would never even have the chance.

At some point, despite the multitude of thoughts shooting through his mind, Guy drifted off to sleep. He awoke in the middle of the night to find Luke gone from beside him, mattress dented and sheets pushed aside from where he had been. A thrill of panic shot through him before he realized that there was a small amount of light coming from around the corner. Pulling the covers off of himself, Guy swung his legs over the side of the bed and gently padded over to the bathroom door. The light was on, spilling through the small crack left from the only slightly ajar door.

Guy gently knocked on the door. "Luke?" he said softly.

There was no answer, only the distinct sound of someone retching.

Alarmed, Guy pushed open the door, found Luke hunched over the toilet, grasping the edges with a white-knuckled grip as he heaved. Guy sank to the floor beside him, Luke stiffening under his touch when he reached out a hand to his shoulder. He turned, and now that his bangs weren't completely obscuring his view, Guy saw that his face was streaked with tears, eyes red and watery. His hair was a mess, wayward strands shooting out everywhere and giving off a blood red sheen under the sterile bathroom light. He looked completely disheveled, completely miserable. Even now he was choking back a hysterical sob, and Guy got the feeling that his finding Luke was only serving to make him feel worse. How like Luke to try to hold it in. Of course he was upset, knowing he was going to die. Anyone would be, when faced so directly with their own mortality.

"G-Guy…" he hiccupped. "Go back to--"

"Shhh," he replied, and reached out to the toilet paper roll, pulling off a section and using it wipe Luke's mouth. He wanted to say something, to tell Luke it would be all right, or to ask him what was wrong, but one was a lie and the answer was obvious to the other. So he sank down onto the cold tile with him, reached out and quietly pulled him into a tight embrace.

Luke clung to him as if he were a rock in a storm. "I—I can't," he started. "I mean—I have to—but—I'm…I'm…afraid…" And with that confession, he collapsed into another sobbing fit.

"Oh Luke," Guy whispered into his ear. "Anyone would be. Anyone would be."

"Whenever I think about it, I just—" Luke stopped. "I get sick. Is it going to hurt? What comes after? It's all I can think about, I can't stop thinking…"

Guy gave into his urge from earlier, bringing his hand up to stroke Luke's hair. Soft beneath his touch, as expected. "I wish I could say that I have the answers, but I don't," he said softly.

"I know," Luke whispered, burying his face into Guy's shoulder. "No one does."

He sounded so…defeated. "You don't have to do this," Guy said, emotion choking his own voice now. "You know they wouldn't blame you, they said as much."

The quivering mass in his arms shook his head violently in protest. "No…this is something that I have to do…."

"You don't have—"

"I do!" cried Luke, fingers wrapping themselves more tightly around Guy's clothing. "Don't you see—this is the only way that I—that I can…" apparently the admission was too weighty to finish, for he trailed off and started crying in even more earnest.

It didn't take a genius to figure out what was going through Luke's head. This had been lurking beneath the surface ever since Akzeriuth, this terrible idea that only by trading his own life could he ever make up for what he had done. Guy had—everyone had—told him that it was best to atone by living, but here had appeared an opportunity to make it up to the world by dying, and the idiot of course had latched on to it almost immediately.

"Luke…" Guy held him closer, and never wanted to let him go. What sort of world condoned sending a seven year old off to their death? Moreso than ever, he found himself filled with disgust. Replica or no, Luke was Luke and he as much as any one else deserved to live. Certainly more than…than the other, the one so filled with hate that he practically dripped it wherever he went.

It's not fair, his mind cried, as he grounded Luke through another vomiting spell, and his heart broke for him as Luke shuddered under the effects of his mental distress turned physical.

It's not fair.

They stayed that way for a long while.