TW: Death, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Angst, Yoglabs,

Video: Corpse Roads by Keaton Henson ... no TW for the video

It had all started so long ago. So damn long ago it barely seemed real, more a fabricated memory than the moment that changed his entire life and sent him into a tailspin. At the time he'd thought he was fine. The tremor in his bones, the pounding in his head, it had all faded so quickly that he must've been fine. It took years for him to realize that no, it was not. He was terrified. He had been shaken to his core since that moment, since that day. He was backed up against the wall. He was exposed and vulnerable, a bundle of fresh nerves under healing skin.

But there had been no incident, no trauma. The moment that had done this, the moment that had ripped through him, was something that no one else even stumbled on, no one else even noticed.

It was the graves. The headstone with his own name had been enough to send shivers down his spine. But it was not his grave that knocked his feet out from under him, it was Honeydew's. The bumbling, over-excited dwarf that had saved his life in ways far beyond just physical. And there it was. A hole in the ground. A mouth of dirt, wide open, waiting, watching, for the inevitable.

It had all happened so long ago. On that sunny day, in front of that dark grave, Damocles threw his head back and laughed. And, quickly shutting his eyes against the sight and forcing a smile on his face, the spaceman forced down the turmoil in his gut and stubbornly ignored the gentle press of sword tip on the back of his neck. It was only slowly, over the years, with each grey hair the dwarf grew and each wrinkle that creased his face, that Xephos began looking in the mirror, cursing his smooth, youthful skin, cursing his species' longevity. He could not take it. He could not stand it. The sword point pressed deeper into his neck and the pressure kept him jagged, angry, on edge. His nightmares were haunted, not by the gaping, cavernous hole, but by a filled one. Haunted by a small mound of dirt as he looked into the mirror looking exactly the same as when the dwarf had first taken his hand.

One day, Honeydew made a joke about being a movie star who'd have to watch Xephos get himself another lead actor one day. Xephos laughed. That night his knuckles were bloody and bruised, the mirror broken and shattered at his feet. This was the day he swore to himself, he would never let Honeydew die. He would do anything, be anything, to not watch his friend die.

It took several more years to find a way. Cloning. With this, anything was possible. With this, Honeydew could live forever. With this, he could stop forever preparing himself for the death of his dwarf. He cried with relief, and flung himself full force into experiment after experiment after experiment. Cloning was not the most humanitarian of exploits. There were many different...bits that were needed. Luckily, the testificates were only too happy to help. Or, at least, they couldn't say no. Lalna began pitching in, speeding up the process. He believed it to be a business venture. Xephos laughed to himself. Who gave a crap about money or science when death was on the line.

Slowly, yoglabs was formed. A whole infrastructure for clones. It was all going so well. Honeydew had even began to use the clones as a more efficient way of moving around. For the first few months of success Xephos could not sleep he was so relieved. He would stay awake until early in the morning, grinning up at the ceiling and repeating to himself over and over "He will live. He will live. He will live."

It had all started so long ago. It had all started with one small grave. One small hole and one small word. It had been years, centuries, millennia, months ago. It had been blood, lots of blood, to get here. But none of it was Honeydew's so it was all fine, right? Right.

The ice. It was the ice that had gotten him in the end. No. That was a lie. It was the very system of having clones that had gotten him in the end. Needing a damn main copy as a damn ice sculpture in the damn. Fucking. Basement. It had been Xephos' system that had done it. It had been Xephos that had done it. As he stared up at the frozen, still face of his friend, something prickled the back of his neck. He slapped at it. It was fine. They had Honeydew clones right? Right.

The bags under his eyes began to get worse. He spent his nights talking to the ice sculpture in the basement. Every night he would explain himself. Every night he got the same answer. Nothing. But it was fine. The clones were there. The clones...not Honeydew. They were...Honeydew's clones. But that was the same thing right? Right. The sword was back, pressing it's way to Xephos' spine. But he felt nothing. He looked at his friend's frozen face and felt nothing. He looked at the blood on his hands and felt nothing.

It had all started so long ago. It had all started with a grave.

Credit to MelonEthyle on Ao3