(Author's note/disclaimer: the episode structure is intentional and there's a great deal of AU stuff involved, obviously I don't own typemoon or it's intellectual properties this is just for fun)
Nexus: the lost adventures.
Episode One.
Reversal
At the end of an endless road there’s a bench. A little ways past that, there's a truck stop, and, farther still, a medieval bar and inn. Down the road and behind the inn is a well, called Peacemaker for some reason, and past that, the foot of a great mountain, atop of which you’d find a café if you cared to brave the climb.
But our story starts at the bench, so forget the other stuff.
A white haired man yawns, shifting uncomfortably on the pale white bench. He is not so old as to have gone grey by nature’s hand, but his soul carries more weight than those who have lived a century. The white expanse around him shifts, becoming an old New York train station- his last memory, from before his death and incarceration in the endless purgatory called the Nexus.
His gentle nature has been befouled by death and tragedy; no longer a hero, but a man in pain, who wants nothing more than to end it all. Magic is the source of his pain, and so he seeks it gone- or rather, he once did. He now seeks only what small comfort he can find, and rest.
To that end, he leans on hypocrisy, carving a circle in the ground with an ornate dagger- stolen, true, but then, most of his arsenal is. The black gauntlet Veni and the jewelled sword are likely the most valuable of those acquired pieces.
Slowly, methodically, he grinds away at the stone in the station, wondering if meeting her again this way is fair to her. Memory- endless memory- and pain- overcome the hesitation, and the dagger continues its scratching.
Circle finally finished, the white haired man stands, anoints it with his blood, and wordlessly brings forth his target by shattering the jewelled sword, the priceless dagger's fragments his sacrifice for the rite.
Within the blindingly white glow of the magic’s activation, a girl arises from the earth, coming to rest, standing silently, her eyes closed. The white haired man twitches at the sight of the dark-haired girl, clad in the familiar black armour and scarlet cloak. The girl's aquamarine eyes open and focus on him. Her eyes fill with a reluctant hope.
“Archer?” she questions cautiously.
The man shakes his head. “No. I’m still alive- well, as alive as this place lets you be, although I’m likely as old as he was. Though, apparently unlike you and he, I’ve chosen practical combat attire.”
Rin Tohsaka frowned as she looked over the white haired man. He was indeed dressed for combat; a modern sneak suit, which, judging by the red and grey camouflage, was made for urban combat. A simple glance was enough to tell the girl that it was designed to be bulletproof, and would most likely keep a wearer’s body intact in the case of broken bones, but not much more than that.
“I see. I'm guessing you summoned me... but where are we? I’m not getting any information other than what I remember from my life,” she asked, somewhat dejected.
Shirou Emiya nodded, a pack of cigarettes in his hand. “This place is beyond normal time and space. It’s a place of thought, but it's most definitely not the root. We’re headed to a city at the center of this expanse.” He flicked open a silver zippo, lighting the cigarette.
“You smoke?” Rin asked, surprise in her tone.
“Wife died. Long as we’re asking obvious questions, you’re a counter guardian, right?” Shirou asked, exhaling. The smoke curled upward, toward the ceiling of the imaginary station.
Rin blinked, surprised once more. “Yeah, I am. I got sick, couldn’t use my magic anymore. Life wasn’t really worth living after that. Who was your wife?”
“Sakura,” Shirou answered, a small smile on his lips.
Rin nodded, unable to find words, then, peering out at the endless white expanse, demonstrated her infamous bad timing. “It looks cold. Well, which way is the center of this place, master?” she asked.
Shirou sighed, swearing under his breath as the area outside the station became a snow-covered tundra. “I just told you it was a place of thought. The environment's decided by your will,” he explained, checking the pistols, then sealing the two in a thick shoulder bag he had set under the bench.
“Well, even if I am responsible, this is a bit extreme,” she sighed.
Shirou nodded, chuckling a little, and found a vial of reddish liquid. “Yeah, well, I guess it’s better you make the mistakes now rather than later.” He downed the vial’s contents in a quick gulp.
“What was that?”
“A chemical compound that evens out body heat for incredibly hot or cold climates,” Shirou answered, slinging the bag over his shoulder.
“Can I have some?” Rin asked, noting the howling wind that, even now, grew stronger, louder and most likely colder.
“You’re a servant, you don’t need it,” Shirou replied, not without a little annoyance, striding toward the doors leading outside.
Rin nodded, sighed, and sloughed off into the snow, following her new master, her normal goal as a servant seemingly inaccessible now.
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