The air was still.
Only the soft, mechanical hiss of decompression filled the dark chamber as the cryopod let out a final sigh of breath. A soft, sterile light outlined the sleek edges of the glass lid as it slowly lifted open, revealing the figure within.
The man inside stirred.
White coat. Black underlayer. A hood partially obscured his face. He looked... small. Fragile. The infamous Doctor of Rhodes Island—no longer a theory, a whisper, or a question. Just a man. Sleeping.
Or perhaps dreaming of the weight of a past lost to him.
Fang remained kneeling, his incense rods gently lowered to the floor. His voice was quiet, yet it carried:
"Welcome back."
The Doctor stirred. One eye flickered open. Groggy. Unfocused. He blinked against the dimness, his breath shallow and uneven as he pulled himself upright.
"So... it worked..."
Kharon stepped closer, silent but watchful, his polespears quietly slung across his back.
"So this... is the legendary Doctor."
His voice was low, reverent almost—but with the edge of caution. The Doctor barely registered it.
Not until—
"Tch. So you really are alive."
The sudden voice burned like a knife through the haze.
Burngear was in front of him before the Doctor could breathe, their faces inches apart. The Doctor recoiled slightly—more from the rage in the Sarkaz's red eyes than the proximity.
"After everything you've done... you still have the gall to be breathing?"
His fists trembled. His voice cracked.
" You were supposed to fix everything and instead—"
"John."
Fang's voice.
Soft. Calm. Cutting.
Burngear flinched.
The red in his eyes flickered—then slowly faded into a fractured yellow and blue. His fists loosened, but the glare remained as he stepped back without another word. His posture screamed restraint. His silence screamed more.
The drone above them flickered to life.
"Welcome back, Doctor," Kal'tsit's voice echoed coldly through the chamber. Her tone was flat, precise—efficient. "Vitals are stable. No signs of cognitive regression. You're… intact."
Her gaze—what little emotion filtered through her clinical voice—drifted past the Doctor and onto the trio.
"Thank you for fulfilling your task. Now return to Rhodes Island immediately. We'll need full debrief and triage. Time is not on our side."
Fang rose.
His hands were clasped loosely behind his back, posture serene. But his head tilted ever so slightly in refusal.
"Our mission was to rescue the Doctor. And that… has been done."
The silence that followed wasn't just tense. It was suffocating.
Even through the screen, even with oceans of distance, you could feel Kal'tsit still. Rigid. Her breath caught ever so slightly. Her words didn't come immediately.
"…That wasn't what we agreed upon."
Fang merely tilted his head again, gently.
"You asked us to simply rescue him. But I believe the city—this city—is suffering. Strangely. Terribly. People are lamenting. Buildings are half-missing. The sky feels heavier."
He turned toward the exit, gaze distant.
"To turn our backs now would be to seal it in silence."
Kal'tsit's voice crackled.
"We can always come back. He belongs at HQ—where he can be protected. Where he can begin again."
Fang turned, "And while we carry him there, how many will be left to return to?"
The Doctor remained where he stood—half-stepped out of the cryopod, shivering slightly from the cold air and the colder gazes surrounding him. His hood clung to damp hair, and his coat hung too heavily on a frame that had been still for far too long.
He blinked again, and his eyes slowly turned toward Fang—who had never looked away.
The man was calm. Centered. Like he had been waiting there, in that position, for days… or years.
"We have the means to do something now," Fang said softly, the heat of his words tempered by serenity. "We may not be able to save all… but we can save most."
His eyes closed. His breath left him with the weight of a man choosing his next step not with pride, but with prayer.
"I seem to have gotten ahead of myself," he murmured, dipping his head. "Forgive me."
He turned slightly toward the Doctor, still not meeting his eyes.
"We shall let you decide."
Silence.
The chamber returned to stillness once more. No one moved.
Burngear shifted, muttering under his breath, his voice raw with something too fractured to name.
"Tch. We didn't need him. We have you."
He didn't raise his voice. He didn't yell. But the way he hid slightly behind Fang, like a child seeking refuge, betrayed the depth of his resentment.
Fang didn't respond—at least not to him directly.
"You have power," he continued quietly, eyes still shut. "More than you realize. Enough to shape even fate."
Then finally, he looked up—amber eyes glowing faintly beneath the broken light. A rare intensity in his gaze that felt both warm… and unbearable.
"I hope whatever you choose… it brings you peace."
He turned away, motioning gently to Kharon.
"If you decide to stay, I will entrust you to him. You will not be alone."
The moment hung like the breath before prayer. Cold. Immense.
The Doctor's gaze darted between them—Kharon's still, unreadable face… Burngear's sidelong glare… Fang's ever-steady presence.
And then, with a voice hoarse from disuse, he finally spoke.
"...Tell me the details."
The drone buzzed softly in response. Kal'tsit said nothing… but the silence that followed sounded a little like a sigh of relief.
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Welcome to Arknights: Weight of Silence, A fic created by the mysterious author behind the Screen of Light, if you're confused, don't worry, it'll make sense soon enough! lots of ocs and kitbashing were done in the process of this fic's creation after all, We hope you enjoy it!
~HundredMasks-Chan Out!~