Archive of Our Own ^beta

Durge put a hand to his mangled head, as if that would stuff the memories he knew were missing back inside his skull. Everything– all his past, whatever had led up to this, had been swallowed in a churning mass of red and black, gone. He’d hoped that getting out of the mind flayer’s ship would have solved this, but here he was on the beach, the same gaping emptiness still looming inside him.

At least he had a name, though in all honesty, he wasn’t particularly sure it was even his. Durge? It sounded foolish, like darkness without decent cause.

Though perhaps he too was darkness without decent cause.

Either way, he had bigger problems than his missing memories. In their place, was a worm, a parasite placed in his mind, that would consume him within days if given the opportunity.

That would have to be his first priority.

There had been others, fellow victims of the mind flayers who’d been scattered across the surrounding area by the crash. There was Shadowheart, the cleric he’d rescued from one of the pods, Astarion, a duplicitous backstabbing rogue, and Gale, a wizard who Durge had just barely managed to stop himself from ripping the arm off of.

And then there was Enver.

When Durge first looked at him, the wave of disorientation that came with their tadpoles linking was nearly enough to bring him to his knees. This was something more, something painfully familiar, something that he should remember but couldn’t. 

“You–” Durge started, trying to place why exactly the man’s name came easier than his own, dangerously comfortable when everything else was new and unknown.

“You’re alive,” Enver breathed in response, stepping closer even as Durge took a step back, unsure.

“You know me?” 

Before Enver responded, Durge could see something flicker in his eyes, somewhere between frustration and grief. “...Yes. We were very close, before someone close to you betrayed us, putting us in this situation. I suspect she is responsible for your missing memories as well.”

It would have been an easy thing to lie about. No specifics, only a nebulous ‘she’ to blame, and it wasn’t as if Durge could easily question him.

“If you know that much, do you know my name?”

“Durge,” the name lingered on his lips like a prayer. “That’s what you always called yourself.”

Well, that at least confirmed that Enver had known him, though the fact that Durge had known his name was just as much a sign in that direction. Their actual connection could have been anything.

Unfortunately, there wasn’t really time to question Enver further. They were on a clock, all of them, and Durge’s amnesia, while concerning, wasn’t worth delaying a possible cure to figure out.

As such, the only thing they could do was press forward, and find a healer. Once the tadpole was gone, his memories might even come back, as distant of a hope as that might be.

Even that hope faded as the day dragged on though. Not only had they not found a healer, merely a ruined ancient temple inhabited only by looters and the living dead, but from the conversations he’d had with his fellow parasite victims, it seemed unlikely that his amnesia was actually directly connected to the worm. Gale had mentioned that while memory loss could happen as a symptom of ceremorphosis, but only in the later stages where disorientation and mental fog were more severe, while Shadowheart had off-handedly mentioned that there were many causes for memory loss, and immediately attributing them to the parasite might be premature. She was probably right about that, but it didn’t make things any easier.

As the day drew to a close, the mood in their new makeshift campsite was dour. Sure, they had found another survivor from the crash, a githyanki named Lae’zel, and two possible avenues for a cure in a nearby druid grove and a possible creche, but the clock they were on was really starting to sink in. They had a week at most before the parasites growing in each of them would be able to consume them entirely, turning all of them into newborn mind flayers with no connection to their past selves, and no will apart from the collective illithid hivemind. Their only hope was to find a healer before that happened.

“We’re one short on bedrolls,” Shadowheart noted. “So either we’ll have to switch every time someone’s shift on watch is over, or someone will have to sleep on the ground.”

“Enver and I can share.” The words were out of his mouth before Durge could really think about them, some part of his mangled brain considering that as a normal and expected possibility.

“I–” Enver started, before looking at the rest of the group. “I suppose that works.”

Shadowheart clapped her hands together. “That settles it then.”

“Sorry for springing that on you,” Durge said afterwards, while everyone else was preoccupied with other concerns. “I can sleep on the dirt too if that’s better.”

“No, I don’t mind. I was just… surprised you’d suggest it.”

“Honestly, me too. It felt right in the moment though.” Durge paused, before asking more hesitantly, “...Did we ever do this before? The sharing a bed part, not the lost in the wilderness and infected with parasites part.”

“On occasion, though you’d rarely stay the full night. Something would nearly always wake you up, and you’d have to leave.” The way he said it prickled something in Durge’s mind, like Enver had known more than he was saying. He’d have time to question it later though. 

For now though, all there was to do was lay down on the bedroll, careful to leave enough room for Enver. When he settled down beside Durge, he felt warmth in all the places they brushed against each other. It was a good feeling, something that had been in short supply since Durge had woken up. The closest had been when they were fighting for their lives, the rush of adrenaline and violence.

He closed his eyes, letting the warmth and calm wash over him. Part of him knew he shouldn't enjoy it, that sooner or later it would come back to bite him, but he couldn’t help himself. He listened to the sound of Enver’s breath slowing into the rhythm of sleep.

After a while, when it seemed as though rest had finally claimed him, Durge opened his eyes, stealing a glance at his companion. 

It seemed that whatever warmth and peace Durge was getting out of this was mutual. Enver looked peaceful, almost soft, though he would hate to know Durge thought that of him. 

It was almost nice enough for Durge to feel like all of the circumstances leading up to this moment were worth it. The amnesia, the parasite, the uncertain future ahead of them, all of it for this small comfort.

He closed his eyes and curled in closer to Enver.