"The Perks of Being Human"

A Kharlan War One Shot

By Secondhand Soul

Yuan shivered against the cold, pulling his threadbare traveler's cloak more rightly about his shoulders as he stared into the smoldering remains of the previous night's campfire.

Early that morning, with his sling shot in hand, Mithos had gone off to find breakfast, and Martel was off gathering wood to help rekindle their fire, so that left Yuan alone with their Human.

The man in question was currently running a whetstone along the length of his blade, an earsplitting noise that made Yuan cringe the result of the union of stone and steel.

The Half Elf ground his teeth together, his green eyes narrowing in contempt of the noise. Kratos must have felt his burning gaze, for he looked up, face as impassive as ever, and sighed heavily, replacing the stone in his pack and the blade in his sheath. "I honestly do not know when you expect me to sharpen it, Yuan. No matter when I make an attempt, you always get upset with me, but it needs to be done."

"Night," he snapped, "would be preferable to causing this much of a ruckus when it's early, I haven't eaten, and I'm freezing my ass off."

"I will keep that in mind."

Silence fell between them and Kratos stood, damnably calm as he strode over to Yuan's side and sat down beside him. "Would you like my blanket?" he asked, crossing his arms over his chest.

"I don't need you to baby me, Aurion," was Yuan's sullen response, though he was begrudgingly grateful for the other's body heat. "You're always like a furnace. How the hell did you get to be so warm?"

"I have more mass than you do," Kratos supplied in a bored sounding voice.

"That doesn't even make any sense!" Yuan snapped his head around, glaring at Kratos who was, damn him, smirking in amusement. "If you have more surface area, you should lose heat more quickly than I do! Didn't they teach you anything in Tethe'alla besides how to grunt and look grouchy?"

Kratos didn't say anything, and Yuan turned away, staring into the embers of their fire pit. "I bet you keep heat rocks hidden somewhere in that skin tight body suit of yours," he muttered after a moment.

"That, or I simply have better circulation," supplied Kratos, looking down as Yuan leaned wearily against his shoulder. "You are freezing."

"No shit," he said. "How long do you think it will be before they're back and we can start a fire?"

"There's no telling. Mithos is sure-footed and silent," Kratos wrapped an arm loosely about Yuan's shivering shoulders. "I am certain it will be soon. Then he will skin his kill –" Yuan made a face, prompting Kratos to cut himself off with a snort. "You can eviscerate a grown man, but when it comes to small game, you can't stomach the sight of a skinning."

"That's because –" a twig snapped and the two of them stood, Kratos' hand flying to the hilt of his blade, Yuan's hands balling into fists.

Yuan's consciousness pushed outward, sampling the Mana of the world about them. He could feel them just beyond the circle of their campsite, five of them, all Human. He pressed a finger to his lips and signaled to Kratos with his hands just how many were in their company, watching as his traveling companion's stance shifted to a killing stance.

"I suppose it's jerky for breakfast, after all," Kratos said coolly.

"Yuan laughed, even as he reached down and pulled his own sword cautiously from his back. "Maybe tonight you can go hunting, Mister Country Manor. Or better yet, do us all a favor and use your Human status to net us some supplies."

"Perhaps I will," the Human agreed even as the bandits emerged from the trees, brandishing some nasty looking beat up weapons and rag tag armor. "Let's greet our company properly, shall we?"

There were no more words between them as they sprang into action, their military training far surpassing the skills of this motley band.

It should have been easy.

By all accounts, it was at first. They took the first three men out quickly, and Yuan chased their archer across the clearing and into the trees, jumping off a stump to gain momentum as he brought his blade down on the other man, delivering a stunning blow that he could strike the other man with a swift death. He returned to find Kratos fighting off the last man, a shadow creeping up on him from behind.

Before Yuan could shout out to warn Kratos, who had just finished cutting down his current opponent, a sword sunk through his stomach.

A grimace bloomed on Kratos' face, his eyes dialating as he spun on his heel, taking the man's sword with him. He felled his assailant with a mighty blow and a great war cry, adrenaline carrying him. Then, he stumbled back around, taking a few faltering steps forward before swaying and falling, Yuan leaping at him to catch him before he collapsed.

Gently, Yuan guided him to the log they'd sat on together just moments before, though he was staring primarily at the sword that jutted out from Kratos' gut, low and to the left. The tip of the blade was dyed red with Kratos' blood, the shaft swallowed by his flesh, the hilt protruding from his back, not quite to the cross guard. Yuan swallowed thickly, imagining the burning agony of punctured flesh squeezing around filthy metal, his throat constricting further with dread.

Green eyes flickered up to glance at Kratos' face, finding the Human's complexion pallid, his eyes glazed over in pain, his breathing quick and shallow, and the sheen of perspiration beading his prominent brow. Yuan's heart skipped a beat at the sight of his companion reduced to this when he was usually so strong, and his grip on Kratos tightened.

"Shit, shit, shit!" He whispered hoarsely, clearing his throat. "Kratos. Kratos, can you hear me?"

Feebly, the Human nodded, dark eyes flicking to Yuan's face briefly before squeezing shut in a grimace as he adjusted himself in Yuan's arms, leaning against his shoulder for support.

"Is anything punctured? Do you think …?" his voice was breathless and terrified, his mind racing to the worst case scenario.

"Presumably," Kratos growled, sentences punctuated with agony. "Can't be sure. Could be clipped."

"Not your heart or lungs, surely," Yuan placed a hand to Kratos' brow, wiping his hair out of his eyes, his fingers trembling; no, he had to remain calm, Kratos was the one in danger of dying, not him.

"Too low," came the curt response.

Yuan nodded. Right, right, he could have known that.

Damnit, this was not good. Kratos may have an Exsphere, but he was still mortal, just as any of them were. The problem was, Kratos couldn't hear or sense ambushers like Yuan or the others could. He was Human, he was weaker, and his senses not as keen, his body not attune to the feeling of Mana.

Yuan's brow furrowed even more deeply as a groan pushed its way past Kratos clenched teeth and his body shivered. Gulping, Yuan decided that he had to do something for the other, unable to simply leave things as they were. Though he wasn't sure if there were more bandits nearby, he raised his voice began to call for Martel.

In the distance, his keen ears picked up the sound of clattering wood and the puttering of footsteps as Martel skidded into the clearing – it was a miracle she hadn't heard the skirmish, but she'd probably been caught up in her own thoughts.

Her soft green eyes widened and her hand flew to her mouth in shock as she started at Kratos for only a fraction of a second, pretty face paling before she dashed forward to his side, her lithe fingers tenderly checking around the wound.

Kratos hissed, and Yuan felt his grip tighten to a clamp like grasp on his arm, his head turning away from Martel, from the wound. He buried his face in Yuan's shoulder, and he could feel the tension in Kratos body and he attempted to hold still, despite his weakness.

"Oh no," Martel whispered again and again, withdrawing her now bloody fingers. "Yuan this is very, very bad." She caught and held Yuan's eyes, her glance beseeching. "I checked the wound, I reached out … " her voice was trembling, but she held her hands still. "I think sometimes wrong inside. I think the internal damage is bad."

Kratos barked a laugh that soon broke into a spasm of coughs and it was Yuan's turn to tighten his grip, his eyes narrowing into dangerous slits. "Don't you dare die, Aurion. I swear I won't ever forgive you if you die now."

"I have … no intention of dying here, Ka-Fai," Kratos snorted, looking up into Yuan's eyes and offering a cocky grin that the Half Elf wanted to wipe right off of his face; men on their death beds had no right to be so arrogant. "Not when … So much depends on me."

"Don't speak," Martel ordered, taking the hand that wasn't bruising Yuan's arm into both her own delicate hands. "You'll waste your energy and you're going to need it all to recover … As it is I'm not sure I can … I can detoxify your body … Even though I'm sure I can heal the wounds."

He looked to her, but didn't speak. A silent conversation passed between them and she nodded, speaking to Yuan without looking at him. "I need you to … I need you to pull out the sword, Yuan."

"What? Martel, that will … The bleeding will …" he protested, but quickly silenced himself when he realized they very well couldn't heal Kratos if the sword were still inside of him. "Okay, yes. Aruion …" he trailed off, grasping the hilt firmly as he sat Kratos up. "This is going to hurt like a bitch."

With a single jerking movement, Yuan pulled the blade free, feeling Kratos arch and convulse in his arms as a scream of agony ripped its way past his lips and all the strength in his limbs disappeared. Suddenly, there was red everywhere, pooling on the ground, on Yuan's clothing, on Martel's hands as she hovered over the wound, her eyes closed in concentration.

Yuan could do nothing put hold Kratos and watch.

He wanted to close his eyes but couldn't look away, helpless as he felt Kratos grow weaker, even as he saw Martel breathe a sigh of relief, and let free a relieved giggle. "The internal wounds … The toxins are gone … "

She looked exhausted and Kratos looked a ghost, and Yuan wondered if he could do anything at all to help them both other than sit here and pray that Martel's Exsphere gave her enough power to heal the rest of the wound, and that Kratos' Exsphere could sustain him even after losing so much blood …

But there was no deity Yuan could think of who could cure this, no reason that Martel shouldn't overextend herself and faint, no reason that Kratos should live, and it made Yuan sick, sick with the realization that he could no more stand the thought of losing Kratos than he had his mother, than he could stand losing Martel.

Her brow was wet with sweat now, but the glow on her hands did not falter, flicker, nor fade, and Yuan could see the wound sealing itself from the inside out, knitting together to leave a pale scar against the skin of Kratos' abdomen, a scar that would likely never fade. Yuan shivered, shivered at the idea of Kratos' mortality, the idea that he could not simply draw energy from the world around him, the idea that his body would soon being to age, wither, and die and there was nothing Yuan could do to halt the march of time.

It was over now and Martel collapsed, though Yuan could not go to her, for Kratos lie in his arms, limp and deathly pale. Terrified that Martel had not been fast enough, that she had failed and he had lost his friend, he reached a hand up to brush Kratos' damp bangs out of his face and found himself met with a pair of dark eyes, open and staring at him, glazed over but lucid.

He was alive.

With that knowledge, he turned his worried gaze to Martel, who was sitting up now, shaking, tears of relief falling from her eyes as she looked up at them. "H-he's alive, Yuan. Kratos is going to be okay. He's going to be okay."

They locked eyes for a moment, a fleeting moment only, but it was enough for Yuan to know that she agreed, that they were thinking the same things.

The fact was, no matter how powerful Martel's healing was, regardless of whether or not Kratos had an Exsphere equipped, he was going t o die before them simply because he was Human. His lifetime would only last a fraction of theirs, and the knowledge was like a knife to Yuan's heart, even as he practically cried in relief that Kratos was okay, watching the man nod off in his arms.

Kratos Aurion was going to die and Yuan would barely be a fraction of the way through his very long life.

He shook, burying his face in his friend's hair, biting back tears of rage as he realized that, once again, he'd allowed himself to get too close to one of them. Humans were like flickering flames, like fireflies, alive and bright for once season before they faded into memory. He shivered and cursed himself repeatedly, listening to the sounds of Mithos returning to camp, of his horrified conversation with Martel, mutely participating when he suggested they move to another location.

It was Yuan who carried Kratos, while Martel washed and Mithos set up camp, not caring that he was caked in Kratos blood, refusing to let anyone else attend to him. He felt … Responsible. If he hadn't left Kratos alone in that clearing, that wouldn't have happened, and he wouldn't be here now, feeling these feelings. This realization would never have come to him.

Most of the night passed that way, though Mithos finally convinced Yuan to go to the nearby stream to wash up and change clothes while he did the same for Kratos around the time Martel was tending to the potatoes Mithos had stolen from a field that morning.

The cold water felt good on his face and arms, but it wasn't enough to draw him out of this thoughts, to make him feel anything other than pain at the thought of the Human friend he'd almost lost today.

There really was no denying it now.

Yuan meandered back to camp, finding Martel and Mithos by the fire, talking about something. Though normally he might have gone to join them just to spite the kid, tonight he knew Martel needed her brother to cheer her up and strengthen her spirits after Kratos had almost died, and that, in truth, he needed her for the same reason. He would only get in the way of that, and besides … he couldn't just leave Kratos alone.

He was surprised to see the man, now bundled in blankets (likely on the behalf of his apprentice Mithos), staring at him as he approached his spot against a fallen tree.

"I feel it would be remiss if I didn't thank you," Kratos said softly, and Yuan thought that his voice was probably not capable of carrying its usual tone. "You and Martel … Saved my life."

Yuan snorted and sat down beside him, noticing that Kratos was shivering. His expression softened for a fraction of a moment and he placed an arm around Kratos' neck, returning the favor from this morning. "Who's the cold one now, Aurion?"

There was a soft chuckle, but Kratos didn't respond, simply joined Yuan in staring at Martel and Mithos, who were laughing at some joke shared between the two of them. They were both thinking the same thing, though, Yuan was sure. Either of them would give their very lives for those two, just to make a world in which they could be happy, though it certainly hadn't started that way.

"I hope you realize that I don't intend to die any time soon," Kratos said at long last, prompting Yuan to sigh.

"That's just the thing, Kratos," Yuan looked at him, his face candid for once; he saw Kratos' own face soften, guilt flitting across his features. "No matter what you do, to Mithos, Martel and … myself … You will die soon. Tonight simply served as a reminder of the frailty of Human life."

"I am going to die," Kratos said, "but does my death really diminish my life?"

Yuan snorted. "You can't understand because you're going to live, what? You're almost 30 now, right? So another 70 years if you're lucky, though with the life you lead, you'll be lucky if you make it to 65." He turned his face away, not wanting Kratos to see the pain in his eyes. "I will have to live with grief over your death for over 800 years after you die, Aurion, and there is nothing you can do about it."

An uncomfortable silence passed between them as Kratos absorbed the information, but it didn't put a wall between them, rather, Yuan felt Kratos become more candid, and when he looked into the other's face he could see genuine remorse there.

"I am sorry."

Yuan cuffed him lightly on the side of the head, earning a look that was both disgruntled and confused – classic Kratos Aurion, really.

"Don't apologize. You can't help it if your species was built to burn brightly and passionately as stars for a short age on this earth, changing everything in your path with the power of ingenuity and your insurmountable spirit," he sighed. "You can't help it if you move everything you come in contact with. It's just your nature."

"Just as it is in your nature to posses both the fire of Humanity and the grace of the Elves?" Kratos asked. "I cannot imagine that pain. To feel as deeply as a Human but to live on for that long … for an Age … "

Yuan just sighed. "This is why Elves and Humans should never get together. Ever. Don't get me wrong, I'm grateful to be alive … But it sucks being a Half Elf."

"I'm sure that's a gross understatement."

"It is," Yuan admitted with a sardonic grin on his face. "Just do me a favor and have kids before you die, okay? I at least want to know that some part of you lives on, no matter how small that part is. Maybe it will make it feel like you're still here, if only in spirit."

In reality, he was only half joking, and Kratos knew it.

"We will see. Right now the world is more important that the Aurion family line," Kratos yawned, and Yuan could see how tired he'd become even after such a short time speaking.

"Go to bed, Kratos," Yuan's allowed his voice to become soft. "You almost died today, so it's best you recover as quickly as you're able. This world needs you, and more importantly, the kid needs you."

And I need you.

Kratos nodded and turned his face into Yuan's chest almost automatically. "There are perks to having a Half Elf as one's closest companion," Kratos muttered. "I know that you will still be here, never changing, for this morning and every morning after."

And as Yuan watched Kratos fall asleep, he could only think how lucky his closest friend was for being born Human.