To Kill A Killer

Chapter 6: Cross Your Heart

The day Killer had died, Cross had been on a date.

The sun had been shining on the surface of a post-pacifist AU. He had bought two ice-creams from a nearby vendor, and they were slowly dripping from their cones in the cheerful warmth of early summer. It had almost reminded him of his own universe, of too many memories he had forgotten and relived and forgotten again. However, the world around him had been far too bright, too colourful, to be his, and the fingers of a gloved hand were interlaced with his own. He had pushed the memories aside in favour of focusing on the monster beside him, the golden skeleton whose bright, genuine laughter at Cross' terrible joke had made him laugh too, laugh until they both leant in to share a kiss, sweet and sticky with ice-cream. Chara had made a snarky comment, of course, but he was easy to ignore in that glorious moment of sunshine and love. So were all of Cross' doubts and fears about dating his boss' brother – his boss' enemy.

His enemy.

He had returned to the castle in a glow of happiness.

Then Nightmare had come back without Killer, and everything had fallen apart.

Cross had lost people before – hell, he'd lost his entire world. He hadn't even been as close to Killer as Dust and Horror were, since he'd joined the gang so much later than the three of them. Killer's loss had hurt, of course – he'd been a friend, even if he had taken advantage of Cross' cow phobia to scare him at every opportunity – but Cross had learnt years ago that letting grief drown you wasn't helpful. The next morning, he had gotten up and headed downstairs for breakfast, as per usual, while his two remaining teammates stayed shut in their rooms.

Life went on.

It was not the same, but it went on, whether any of them liked it.

Cross adapted to the changes in routine, to the extra work, to Dust's worsened state. He found that with everyone so distracted, it had become easier to slip away and visit Dream, and he therefore did so more frequently. His life, constantly split into two for years now, was growing further apart with each passing day. His precious, stolen hours with Dream were so different to the dark, musty halls of the castle, brief flashes of light that shined all the more brightly in the shadows. In those moments, he could almost forget the past.

The new Killer had joined the gang, and he had adapted to that, too. To the tension. The irrational fury that twisted Dust's expression at their new member's all-too-familiar habits. The place at the table that was once again occupied, just when he'd gotten used to its emptiness. His teammates seemed to be having a lot more trouble adjusting. Last week's dinner had been a close call, and Cross hoped that the boss' authority would be enough to keep a real fight from breaking out. They were a team, and they couldn't work together if they were trying to kill one another.

At the time, he'd had a visit to Dream scheduled after dinner, but he'd been held up in the kitchen, first by Chara's complaints about the timing and then by Killer's unexpected appearance – luckily, in the end, he'd only been a few minutes late. He hadn't mentioned the incident at first, since he knew how much Dream had to deal with already and he hadn't wanted to worry him, but of course Dream had been able to sense that something was up. He wouldn't have pressed the matter if Cross hadn't wanted to tell him, but Cross saw no point in keeping it a secret. After all, Dream was his partner.

Now, six days later, there was another date on his calendar, and he couldn't wait to get out of the boss' gloomy grey domain.

He swung by the kitchen before he left to grab some chocolate. He had gotten fairly competent when it came to sneaking away from the castle, but he liked to have a plausible alibi anyway, and getting a snack from some AU or another was a common enough reason for any of them to go out.