She stops, both her hands curled around just one of his. With trembling hands, she searches for a pulse, a breath, any sign of life, but there is none. It’s futile - she knows it’s futile - but falling to her knees and checking for a pulse is the first instinct she can follow. Just a few moments ago they were teasing each other about their rescues, this death match kept light by his humour.

It’s only for a moment, and any air she inhaled would have gotten caught in her throat anyway as she forces herself to look down at Mirage.

In an attempt to prevent the hyperventilation she feels coming too fast, she just stops breathing.

Her limbs feel weak, her entire being suddenly numb, a desperate attempt to process the situation without taking in the final detail of the massacre. There’s a bubble of panic rising in her chest, and Wraith is unsure as to whether or not she can handle looking down. Their metal frame has not a spark running through it, left slumped against the wall. Her eyes are resting on Pathfinder - the robot was always so enthusiastic, so helpful, only here to try and find the answers they longed for. She pays no mind to the lifeless corpses of her enemies as she steps over them - the voices deep in her mind murmur their aliases to her anyway: Gibraltar, Lifeline, Bloodhound - instead, the only thing she can acknowledge is the guilty lump that’s formed in her throat and left her sick to her stomach this is the Apex Game, this is always how it ends, so why is she so bothered? She’s angry, not only at her squad’s ambushers, but also herself, for not saving her teammates. The second the threat has passed, Wraith trips over herself getting back inside the wooden structure, desperate for any sign that the inevitable didn’t happen. It would seem as though arguing over loot is never a smart use of time. With deadly accuracy, the squad that killed her own falls. Working nearly on autopilot, she aims the Triple Take rifle, eyes glowing with a still, calm, white rage as the voices whispering guidance to her. Sinking back through the portal, Wraith is spat back outside the shack, just in time to see the shockwave travel across the water, smoke pouring from the building as three figures step inside. “Right- so I think we’re all in agreement that-“

“I believe with ten kills, the loot should be mine.” “Heh, yours? If it wasn’t for me, you’d still be laying down on the job!” Dragged through a portal, wracked with guilt, all she could hope for was that a respawn point was near. This time, as the grenade sailed through the air, the only person who had time to be warned was her. Summary: The voices could only ever be heard by her - it hadn’t mattered much until now.

Wraith x mirage fanfiction