Bend Around the Wind by Scyllaya

Chapter 9: Survival of the Fittest

Chapter Nine

Survival of the Fittest

Andromeda Orbit

Tony avoided the areas where he knew bodies lay. It was probably cowardly, not wanting to be faced with what just happened, but he didn't care. It was unavoidable when he had to walk into the small kitchen, but he quickly grabbed a few things that looked edible and a bottle that smelled and looked like water without glancing at the pool of blood on the floor and the body that was behind the counter. He drank the water first while he searched for a place to clean up and sleep. He found a room. It had two beds in it, a table and a bunch of cabinets. When he looked around more properly he found a bathroom as well. A shower seemed to be not a purely human-invention, even if the showerhead and the stall looked kind of different, and so did the knobs. He also found a mirror and it was hard to recognize his reflection. His hair was long, longer than it had been in years and his beard was too. It was not his stylish goatee either, but a full-on beard. He would have to find a razor or a blade or something later, but he didn't care for now. His face was pale and sunken, a lot thinner and sharper than he remembered it to be. His eyes had deep dark circles under them and stared back at him with a dull brown colour. He was too tired, too worn, almost lifeless, and way too dirty.

He ate first though, not much, just a little so that he wouldn't starve. He's been eating very little for a very long time so it would be stupid to get sick with too much food. He chewed methodically whatever it was that he was eating, he couldn't taste anything. Then he took off his clothes for the first time in months. He was so fucking dirty, everywhere, it was disgusting. He figured out how to start the water and found some soap, again, it seemed to be a universal invention. The water was not hot at all, but it did wonders to his frozen limbs. Washing away the grime from his skin, out of his hair and beard felt really good. He remembered the first time he took a shower after he escaped in Afghanistan. It was in a US military camp and it was a surreal feeling, for the water to be good and not something used to hurt him, to look at his scars and new wounds closely for the first time. It was surreal now too, but mainly for different reasons. It was warmth he didn't feel for so long and slowly the stink of dirt and blood was replaced by the clean smell of the soap and water. Looking at scars was the same though, even if he did not acquire too many of them. Most will heal and fade away completely. This one felt like the best shower he had in his life.

They were out, they did it, and they were heading home. They only had to murder a dozen complete strangers for it... fuck.

He leaned his forehead to the metal wall of the shower cubicle and let the warm water fall on the back of his head and neck. It soothed his muscles as it streamed down his back and he took deep large breaths. It neither eased the tightness in his chest, nor the chaos in his mind. He did this, he agreed to this, to escape.

Fuck, he couldn't justify it, he shouldn't justify it. He would have to look at himself in the mirror and live with it. He knew that he should've objected more, he knew that he should've said no, but not like it mattered. The dead didn't care. Fucking Loki and his fucking little speeches. The dead didn't care. Those bodies scattered around the ship didn't care that he felt bad now, they were dead anyway. Loki was right, even if he had some good reasons for it, they wouldn't care. It would only just make him feel less guilty. If he could figure out, that these were really some heartless murderers who made life hell for others, suddenly it would be okay then? No, he killed and let them be killed without knowing anything, even if it turned out that they were some sort of monsters, it wouldn't change the choice he made. He would just feed himself platitudes to feel better.

Because what was the truth? That he was terrified, terrified to go back, to be captured again, to be at the mercy of others again. Loki said it right. He was not willing to take the risk. Not willing at all. It was this or risking that, he had no other... no, the dead didn't care. And a voice in his head, a really annoying voice that kind of reminded him of Steve Rogers told him that a better man would rather have died than kill for such selfish reasons, that a better man would not have made this decision. But he was not that better man so he had not other choice. He's been told that he was not one to make sacrifices, he proved those words wrong back then, and now he proved them wrong again, only in the worst possible way this time. He made a sacrifice alright, only he did not sacrifice himself. He wanted to live and wanted to get away. It was a choice and he would have to live with it. He would have to remember what it cost to get away from that place, what price he was willing to pay. What he was willing to do to survive.