The ash slipped away, carried by winds that couldn't exist in space Duo watched it twist and spiral into nothing, spreading into black. The pressure eased, letting him move enough to catch at the cross hanging from his wrist. It was skin-temperature against his fingers, warm enough to be oddly reassuring.
He couldn't think of anything to say, so he simply watched until there was nothing left to see.
Then Deathscythe used his namesake to cut a hole in space. Duo gaped at the white cross in front of him, blazing light. It spilled out in a tide that took over everything, wiping away the black of space with brilliant white light.
"Whoa," he muttered, and then gathered himself enough to add, "show off."
The controls in front of him lit up as the display dimmed. He bit the inside of his cheek, and reminded himself he knew how to do this. It was just Deathscythe, and he'd been flying Deathscythe for three years. Maybe longer. His left hand settled over a console, fingers brushing buttons covered with dust. He tapped out a familiar sequence, and felt the engines whine in response.
He could do this. He could get home.
Duo sat up, slipped his hands around the controls, and fell back into old training. Don't think. Just go. He smiled slightly as everything went white.