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How the Dead Live

Chapter 5: Epilogue: Twenty-Seventh

Notes:

An epilogue, with bonus Xio cameo. Content warnings in end notes.

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

The season that passes for summer in these mountains has finally limped its way around to this side of the moon, bringing longer days and snowmelt streaming down from the peaks, but the earth is still cool under Shiro’s hands as he digs around the last beanstalk in this row, awkwardly wiggling it free as it stubbornly clings to its home in the soil. Matt feeds his garden with eggshells, with wood ash, with the needles he gathers from the trees that grow along the path to his home, attacking the problem of the acidic land he lives on with meticulous monitoring and a lot of muttering about compost, and Shiro’s skin is streaked nearly black by an entire morning of this delicate work, his fingers cramping with cold and his back aching from bending over.

 

He finally succeeds in cutting the plant free, wincing at the slicing sound of severed roots despite his attempt at gentleness, and carries it with cupped hands over to where Matt is carefully packing his garden into their travel boxes, trailing vines and teetering stems tied back with stick and string, roots wrapped into rough fabric balls. Shiro knows from every story that Matt’s told him this last year and a half that gardening is a ruthless calling, culling as many plants as he nurtures and transplanting certain insects to massacre others, once even staying up the whole night to shoot whatever burrowing creature kept gnawing through the screens around the lower planters, but to Shiro’s eye, Matt handles his plants with the same care that he turns to his machines and his growing pile of notebooks and Shiro, steady and sure.

 

“Last one,” Shiro says, handing him the beanstalk, and Matt wraps up the roots and places it in with its fellows, looping the long vine through the web of string holding back the others.

 

“Do you know if Xio’s finished loading up the cart?” Matt asks. “These boxes should go in last, and they’re not going to make it down the hill on the same trip.”

 

“Considering that we haven’t seen her whizzing down the hill with it, probably not,” Shiro says. “I can go check on her if you want,” but Matt just shrugs.

 

“I’m not in any rush,” Matt says. “I’ve got you for the whole day, and it’s not that long of a trip, even with all the jumps. Plus, we started at the asscrack of dawn. Curse you and your ridiculous military schedule.”

 

“I think you mean ‘curse my work ethic’,” Shiro says.

 

“No, a work ethic is getting up after the sun rises and staying up half the night, like a normal human,” Matt says. “Getting up when it’s still dark outside is just masochism. And I don’t even get to enjoy it this time, because you show up at my door and wake me up, too.”

 

“You said you wanted to get an early start,” Shiro reminds him.

 

“A horrible mistake,” Matt says. He sets one travel pot off to the side, green tendrils spilling out of the top with tiny blue buds nestled in the curling leaves, a few of them beginning to bloom, and explains: “This one is for Allura, so it gets packed separately.”

 

“You know she’s going to kill it within a week,” Shiro informs him.

 

“Then I’ll give her another one the next time she visits,” Matt says, unconcerned. “And she can kill that one too. Or she could actually read the directions that I send with them.”

 

“She says there’s always things that come up that the directions don’t cover,” Shiro says. “Last time it was some kind of purple fungus.”

 

“Well, Quuduzh has a vidcom network and my new place is wired in, she can give me a call the next time she’s got a question about a mysterious fungus,” Matt says, and then grins. “Or whenever. It’s a top-notch network. Super high definition, great sound quality.”

 

“I’ll tell her not to take any calls from you in the common area,” Shiro says dryly. “She wanted me to tell you that she’s sorry she couldn’t come today, by the way. Something came up with the Shon Mir situation and they needed her to arbitrate. Again.”

 

“It’s okay,” Matt says. “I kind of expected that one of you would have to bail.”

 

“Sorry,” Shiro says quietly, but Matt waves him off.

 

“Politics,” Matt says. “I’m just glad I don’t have to deal with any of it anymore.”

 

“Believe me, some days I wish I didn’t have to either,” Shiro says, as Xio rounds the corner of the house, carrying something brown and pointy-looking.

 

“Hey, Xio, is the cart loaded up?” Matt asks.

 

“Mostly,” she says, vaguely.

 

“What happened to your boots?” Shiro asks, alarmed.

 

“My hands were too cold to feel textures. The grass looked interesting,” Xio explains.

 

“There’s a ton of sharp rocks everywhere, it’s not really safe for bare feet,” Matt says.

 

“Galra can’t get tetanus,” she informs him.

 

“You’re only part Galra, and even full Galra aren’t immune to slicing their foot open on a rock,” Shiro says despairingly. “Please put your shoes back on.”

 

“Yeah, maybe. I want this, can I keep this?” Xio asks Matt, presenting him with what looks like a piece of rust-eaten metal from Matt’s scrap box. “It wasn’t in your go pile and Maze is in a Sculpture Phase.”

 

“Sure,” Matt says. “If it came from the box under the bench, take anything you want out of there. Just be careful, a lot of the stuff has sharp edges.”

 

“Sweet,” she says, and scampers off, completely ignoring Shiro yelling after her, “Shoes!”

 

Matt snorts. “Remember the time you tried to tell me that she would be easy?”

 

“I never said easy ,” Shiro protests.

 

“Heavily implied,” Matt retorts. “Extremely implied. You rotten liar.”

 

“Maybe a little bit,” Shiro admits. “But for a good reason.”

 

“Yeah, I know,” Matt says. “I'm not mad, not really. And she’s a lot, but I like her. I’m glad I finally get to meet her, and not in a contingency plan way.”

 

“Me too,” Shiro says.

 

They lapse into silence as they tote the travel boxes full of plants around to the front of the cottage and the waiting hover-cart. A few minutes later, Xio emerges from the cottage with what looks like Matt’s entire scrap box — although at least she has her boots back on — and Shiro takes a break from lifting things to lean up against one of the fence posts circling the cottage and watch her unsuccessfully try to cram it into the cart between a rolled-up quilt and a lumpy leather bag of tools. Matt fusses with his plants for a while longer, but eventually he joins Shiro, sighing and tipping his head up towards the same sunlight that glints off the handle of the blaster tucked beneath his coat.

 

“Are you okay?” Matt asks Shiro. “You seem kind of… subdued this morning. Bad night?”

 

“Honestly? I'm still disappointed that you're not coming to live on the Castle with us,” Shiro says. “But I get it, I’m not mad or anything. Just disappointed. I miss you.”

 

“I can't do the Castle right now,” Matt says, gently. “Maybe someday. Maybe never. I miss you guys too when you’re not around, so much, but living on an active warship...” He shudders. “No. And it’s not like you’re going to step away from your positions any time soon, so visits it is.”

 

“We’ll make them count,” Shiro says, and Matt snorts.

 

“Let’s not make them count too hard,” he says. “I’d rather not get kicked out of my new place because of noise complaints.”

 

“If you do ever change your mind about the Castle — you’re always welcome there,” Shiro tells him. “No matter what happens between the three of us. Standing invitation, no terms and conditions.”

 

“So I can bring my goat flock?” Matt asks.

 

“Maybe some conditions,” Shiro says.

 

“Just kidding,” Matt says. “I still don't have any goats. I'm so fucking sick of the goats. I never want to see another goat in my life.”

 

“I don't think that'll be a problem in Quuduzh,” Shiro says. “No goats on the whole planet. And even if there were, they barely have enough room in that city for all the people, much less roaming herds of livestock.”

 

He pauses, then quietly asks, “Are you sure you're going to be okay there? It's… loud. Not peaceful at all.”

 

“I'm not sure of anything,” Matt says, staring out into the mountains beyond his cottage; the distant field where they’d gone stargazing the last time they were all here, laying in the tall grass with the night-noises around their heads as Matt traced out the local star-stories for Allura and Shiro dozed off to the sound of his voice; the still that Allura kept secretly breaking pieces off of when she visited, only to find that Matt kept replacing them. “But I liked it when I visited, and whatever peace I'm looking for... I didn't find it here. Maybe loud will be good.”

 

He smiles. “And it's closer to the systems you usually operate out of, so you guys can slip away to visit more than once a month.”

 

“Every three weeks,” Shiro protests.

 

“I know,” Matt says, gently. “I count them too.”

 

Matt still can't reliably handle Shiro looming above him, whether for a kiss or a hug or a simple hand up after a fall — less of them now with Matt’s retrofitted prosthetics, but still more than Shiro would like — but he can hold hands, and so they do, Matt tangling his cold fingers with Shiro’s as they watch Xio forcibly shove the last few belongings Matt is bringing to his new home into the hover-cart, scrap box momentarily abandoned by the side.

 

“There's nothing breakable in there, is there?” Shiro asks, wincing after a particularly loud clang.

 

“Other than the plants and my notebooks, I don't have anything that I'd actually be upset losing,” Matt says. “And I got an advance, so I can afford to replace stuff if she smashes it. I'm going to have to get a lot of stuff anyways, the furniture’s too bulky and everything electrical has a different voltage, I'd fry it all in a week.”

 

Shiro knows better than to offer to help pay for any of it, so he just asks, “When are you starting the new job?”

 

“Three days from now,” Matt says. “I've going to be teaching five astrophysics classes at three different levels and they're talking about adding a cryptology course next year if I can handle the workload. I still have to buy a stove, but I don't need to worry about buying a bed, because I don't think I'm ever going to sleep.”

 

“So you're ready?” Shiro asks, and Matt snorts.

 

“Fuck no,” he says. “It's gonna be a shitshow. But I think I'm going to enjoy it.” His mouth quirks in a smile. "At least, I think I'll enjoy it more than I enjoyed here."

 

Matt’s quiet for a moment, then adds, “I know Allura pulled some strings to get me this job, and I suspect you did too, because the starting pay for a visiting professor is surprisingly nice, so… thanks. Normally I'd tell you to take a hike, but I really want this, and I know you two aren't going to yank it out from under me if you get mad at me. And Allura already yelled at me about the downfalls of pride.”

 

“You've done so much for us, impressing the value of a talented cryptographer-slash-astrophysicist upon a few university bureaucrats is nothing,” Shiro says.

 

“It's not about debt. I'm not keeping a list of who owes who what,” Matt tells him. “Not anymore.”

 

“I'm not either,” Shiro says. Matt gives him a look, and Shiro amends it to: “I'm trying really hard not to.”

 

“Well, trying is better than not at all,” Matt says. “I can work with trying.”

 

“Do you have any plans for this place?” Shiro asks him. “It seems like a shame to let it all rot again.”

 

“I was planning on letting the locals figure out what to do with it,” Matt says. “Unless you know anyone who needs a really quiet, isolated, goat-infested place to stay?”

 

“I’ll ask Allura,” Shiro says. “I’m sure there’s someone.”

 

“There usually is,” Matt says. “Maybe we should keep it as a bolthole, just in case. You really think that Lotor’s on the run this time? You thought that before, and look how that turned out.”

 

“Last time we were stupid,” Shiro says. “But we’ve been more careful, invested more in our intelligence networks, and Mnenmus was enough to scare everyone into actually paying for their damn defenses. The war’s not over, not by a long shot, but all our sources say that he’s actually running, not just feinting. We wouldn’t have given you the clear if we thought it wasn’t safe to do so.”

 

“If something happens to you guys, you can still get Coran to send the kids to me,” Matt says quietly. “It wouldn’t be as safe as being here, but I know how to disappear into a city if I have to. I’ve done it before. I could figure something out.”

 

“You’re still on our list,” Shiro assures him, and Matt smiles, squeezes his hand a bit tighter.

 

“Good,” Matt says. “Don’t take me off of it. Even if you do still think I deserve better.”

 

“You do deserve better,” Shiro says.

 

“I don’t care,” Matt says. “This is what I want.”

 

“Are you ready?” Xio demands, having finally managed to wedge all of Matt’s go pile into the cart, the scrap box balanced precariously on top.

 

“Yeah,” Matt says. “I’m ready. Let’s get this cart load down and unloaded so we can come back for the plants and leave before it gets too late.”

 

“I thought you weren’t in a rush,” Shiro says as Xio takes off running, pushing the cart in front of her, and he and Matt start to pick their way more slowly down the path.

 

“I changed my mind,” Matt says. “I’ve already said my goodbyes to the four people who actually talked to me, I don’t need to be here any longer, and I want to capitalize on having help from a hyperactive fifteen-year-old as long as I can. My new place is up three flights of stairs.”

 

“Well, like you said, you have us for the whole day,” Shiro says. “But we’re not going to be able to stay the night. I wish I could, though. I like waking up next to you.”

 

“Okay, you have to know what you sound like when you say things like that, right?” Matt demands.

 

“Maybe,” Shiro says, cheerfully. “Still not lying.”

 

“Heart-eyes motherfucker,” Matt mutters, but he’s smiling too.

 

“You know, I’m pretty sure Allura and I have a free night next week,” Shiro says. “Although if anyone asks, we’re in closed-door meetings with Pidge about highest-level clearance intelligence reports.”

 

“And what am I supposed to do with this top-secret information?” Matt asks.

 

“Well, you could invite us over for dinner,” Shiro suggests, and Matt laughs.

 

“I guess I’d better hurry up and buy that bed after all,” he says.

 

“Then it’s a date,” Shiro says. “I promise. Allura can figure out a way to politely tell the Shon Mir delegation to fuck off if they try to extend their stay again.”

 

“Careful with those promises of yours, I’ll actually hold you to them,” Matt teases.

 

“I wouldn’t have it any other way,” Shiro says, and they step together off the path into the sawgrass goat field, sharp-edged and treacherous and a home to so many things nonetheless, with the mist still grabbing at their boots, and the sky so bright above them.

 

 

 

Notes:

Content warning for brief reference to alcohol abuse. The title of this fic comes from the concept album by Jordan Reyne, which is totally unrelated to the events of this fic but is great music in its own right, and apparently a novel, which I haven't read and so can't comment on.

I began writing this story before the stills of the new season trailer dropped and we got to see that a) Matt's alive! b) Matt's kicking ass in an awesome outfit, c) Matt's reunited with Shiro, and d) Matt is presumably not a double amputee (yet). The Matt in this story is inspired by yaboyjeiji's wonderful art here.

This isn't the last you'll see of this triad in the Alabanza 'verse. Thankfully, this is the last you'll see of the goats.

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