Holy shit.
No prizes for guessing where all those explosions had come from.
The front of the mansion was an utter wreck, a snarled and splintered hole gaping in the middle of what had once been a porch. The entrance doors hung open, teetering at the limits of their hinges, a stiff breeze from tearing away completely. Even the upper floor hadn't been spared the destruction, walls and chunks of roof missing and scorched, the building's innards blown out and scattered to the winds.
It was as much a warzone as anywhere else Garnet had seen on the island.
She approached slowly, the pace dictated by fatigue as much as caution. After all these days of hiking, sprinting, and hiking again, the pain seemed to have sank from her muscles into bone. Her arm hurt. Her back hurt. Everything hurt. There wasn't much left in the tank.
How much more fuel did she need? The announcement had clawed that question out of the recesses she'd buried it. One way or another, this was the end. So, was there enough for one more fire?
Kindling, and spark.
Garnet hopped up onto the single surviving step of the porch, and then took a big stride off to her left to cross the destroyed section. Her foothold creaked uneasily as she placed her weight upon it, and she half-stepped, half-jumped with her back foot to get clear of the edge of the hole. She didn't want to kick this off by falling through a floor. No telling what could be down there. Garnet paused to turn around and scan the area, see if anyone was making the same approach as her.
Well, not anyone, right? There was only a single somebody that it could possibly be.
Garnet didn't know Willow. They'd spoken maybe two or three times ever and it was superficial, chance, every day encounters. Garnet had the notion that maybe they'd chatted about Pokémon once, but that didn't do much to narrow it down. Garnet had exchanged random Pokémon conversations with a lot of people. Something about her clothes, probably.
She turned back to the entryway and, with a quick step on the narrow ledge the hole formed alongside the damaged doors, crossed the gap and entered the mansion.
Garnet stopped dead and stared.
Diego's body, mangled and twisted alongside a fallen chandelier. Ace's body, a bloody trail leading from Diego to him where he lay just a couple feet away from the entrance.
She looked down at him, the man who had let her go. Dead like all the rest.
All but one.
There's Static In My Bloodstream
"It's worse upstairs."
Willow had been here for a while. She had forgotten how she had gotten here, but she was now in the mansion, surrounded by darkness and the stench of urine and blood. It had been comforting that this place was worse for wear than the last time she had stumbled in it with Katrina.
She missed Katrina. She missed the nausea that she brought at the table. She missed the shape of her when she woke up in the morning, half-lost and half-dazed.
Or something. Willow missed something.
The flashlight moved through the bodies and up toward the girl in the doorway. The stairs made were sticky, stained with black and spoiled marshmallows. Her feet stuck to the ground when she moved in that mixture. It also made a weird sloshing noise when she pressed her foot against it. She made the decision to stop covering herself in what appeared to be someone's last meal.
"Mightyena girl, right?"
She put the flashlight on her own face.
"You evolved my Kadabra."
Willow mentally noted that her half-sister Marianne still had her 3DS back home. It was in good hands. Well, Willow knew for a fact that her half-sister wasn't using it, but it was better than in a box titled Willow, 1999-2018 in someone's basement. She shrugged. Did it really matter?
"There's a balcony upstairs." She pauses, bearing the weight of her weapons on her. "Wanna' talk there?" Another pause, more coaxing. "The moon is really pretty tonight."
Willow had been here for a while. She had forgotten how she had gotten here, but she was now in the mansion, surrounded by darkness and the stench of urine and blood. It had been comforting that this place was worse for wear than the last time she had stumbled in it with Katrina.
She missed Katrina. She missed the nausea that she brought at the table. She missed the shape of her when she woke up in the morning, half-lost and half-dazed.
Or something. Willow missed something.
The flashlight moved through the bodies and up toward the girl in the doorway. The stairs made were sticky, stained with black and spoiled marshmallows. Her feet stuck to the ground when she moved in that mixture. It also made a weird sloshing noise when she pressed her foot against it. She made the decision to stop covering herself in what appeared to be someone's last meal.
"Mightyena girl, right?"
She put the flashlight on her own face.
"You evolved my Kadabra."
Willow mentally noted that her half-sister Marianne still had her 3DS back home. It was in good hands. Well, Willow knew for a fact that her half-sister wasn't using it, but it was better than in a box titled Willow, 1999-2018 in someone's basement. She shrugged. Did it really matter?
"There's a balcony upstairs." She pauses, bearing the weight of her weapons on her. "Wanna' talk there?" Another pause, more coaxing. "The moon is really pretty tonight."
Garnet startled.
With the gloom, she'd expected that she'd see a flashlight beam or a lit torch long before Willow was in earshot. Instead, she'd been spotted.
She thought she'd have more time. She thought she'd be able to think things over. To decide.
Was kinda how she'd gone from the beginning. One day, two days, one week, two weeks.
Willow hovered on the staircase landing like a ghost in the dark. How long had she been standing there? The light outside was okay, but Garnet had still spent a while scanning the building exterior. Willow would only have needed to look out of a window, or, well, a hole, and she could have seen her.
Not important. Here they both were.
Garnet thumbed her zipper. She was wearing the mightyoodie, but with the hood down, the distance and the dark, it probably just looked black.
Willow lit up her face. Garnet remembered.
She smiled, splitting an ache right down in the pit of her stomach.
"Yeah."
Garnet usually sent something silly over if she did a trade. The Alakazam had gone back with a repel. Willow had laughed.
The offer hung there.
Willow was armed. So was she.
"Alright. We can do that."
Garnet started across the room.
With the gloom, she'd expected that she'd see a flashlight beam or a lit torch long before Willow was in earshot. Instead, she'd been spotted.
She thought she'd have more time. She thought she'd be able to think things over. To decide.
Was kinda how she'd gone from the beginning. One day, two days, one week, two weeks.
Willow hovered on the staircase landing like a ghost in the dark. How long had she been standing there? The light outside was okay, but Garnet had still spent a while scanning the building exterior. Willow would only have needed to look out of a window, or, well, a hole, and she could have seen her.
Not important. Here they both were.
Garnet thumbed her zipper. She was wearing the mightyoodie, but with the hood down, the distance and the dark, it probably just looked black.
Willow lit up her face. Garnet remembered.
She smiled, splitting an ache right down in the pit of her stomach.
"Yeah."
Garnet usually sent something silly over if she did a trade. The Alakazam had gone back with a repel. Willow had laughed.
The offer hung there.
Willow was armed. So was she.
"Alright. We can do that."
Garnet started across the room.
As she brought her beam of light toward the floor, Willow stared, unblinking at the writhing mass of shadows beneath her. In the darkness, she couldn't see Garnet staring back at her, but she still felt her eyes against her body. Willow heard the familiar movement of weary bones in the abyss. It moved toward her, and she stood, unmoving.
The weight of her weapons were comforting, but the weight of Sierra's jacket felt better. She gripped Sierra, feeling the humid metal biting back at her. She was still annoyed that it was called a stun gun, and not a taser, but she bit the snark away. Her words weighed everything right now, and she had to use every scale she had in her arsenal.
She breathed out slowly, steadying her breath as a smile flashed back on her face in the darkness. She heard the camera buzz, flick on, reminding her that the world was still seeing her. They were still there, and she was still here. She dragged her thumb across the button of her stun gun, thinking about lunging at Garnet, but refraining. There was a time for action and there was a time for words, and right now she was stuck in this limbo that stopped her from both.
She stepped back, pointing the beam at a door. Guts and bloodstains appeared where the light shone, but Willow smiled brighter. She wondered how badly she could ruin someone's day by moving the light on one of the cameras. She turned around toward the moving Garnet, angling her wrist toward one of the voyeurs.
"You know where's the balcony, right?" She mentally crossed her arms, but she still held her position. "Do I need to show you?"
The weight of her weapons were comforting, but the weight of Sierra's jacket felt better. She gripped Sierra, feeling the humid metal biting back at her. She was still annoyed that it was called a stun gun, and not a taser, but she bit the snark away. Her words weighed everything right now, and she had to use every scale she had in her arsenal.
She breathed out slowly, steadying her breath as a smile flashed back on her face in the darkness. She heard the camera buzz, flick on, reminding her that the world was still seeing her. They were still there, and she was still here. She dragged her thumb across the button of her stun gun, thinking about lunging at Garnet, but refraining. There was a time for action and there was a time for words, and right now she was stuck in this limbo that stopped her from both.
She stepped back, pointing the beam at a door. Guts and bloodstains appeared where the light shone, but Willow smiled brighter. She wondered how badly she could ruin someone's day by moving the light on one of the cameras. She turned around toward the moving Garnet, angling her wrist toward one of the voyeurs.
"You know where's the balcony, right?" She mentally crossed her arms, but she still held her position. "Do I need to show you?"
Right down the middle, either half of Garnet spoke differently as she made her way towards Willow.
She was going to get shot. Willow had something planned. This was a trap. She was skipping her way merrily into the tiger's den.
Maybe they could work something out. It couldn't just end with nothing but a blaze of gunfire. There was time enough for a few more words.
Garnet navigated her way around the crashed chandelier, giving it a wide berth. She didn't want to step in Diego's blood. She'd never especially known him either, and now she was leaving his corpse in her wake. How many had he ended up killing? Was it four? As many as Ace? More?
Christ. So many names. She couldn't begin to remember. Name after name after name until Garnet was walking through the foyer, and Willow was standing on the stairway. Their whole fucking school trip in a single room.
"I've never been here," said Garnet. "Point the way—" Her foot caught something on the floor that went skittering off ahead of her. Garnet jerked back like she'd been stung, and instinctively dipped her flashlight.
A little toy car rolled along on tiny wheels, bumping the base of the bottom step.
Garnet looked back up to Willow. She hadn't moved. Their eyes met a second, then Garnet stooped, picked the car up, and stuffed it in her pocket. She inclined her head to Willow. Lead on.
She was going to get shot. Willow had something planned. This was a trap. She was skipping her way merrily into the tiger's den.
Maybe they could work something out. It couldn't just end with nothing but a blaze of gunfire. There was time enough for a few more words.
Garnet navigated her way around the crashed chandelier, giving it a wide berth. She didn't want to step in Diego's blood. She'd never especially known him either, and now she was leaving his corpse in her wake. How many had he ended up killing? Was it four? As many as Ace? More?
Christ. So many names. She couldn't begin to remember. Name after name after name until Garnet was walking through the foyer, and Willow was standing on the stairway. Their whole fucking school trip in a single room.
"I've never been here," said Garnet. "Point the way—" Her foot caught something on the floor that went skittering off ahead of her. Garnet jerked back like she'd been stung, and instinctively dipped her flashlight.
A little toy car rolled along on tiny wheels, bumping the base of the bottom step.
Garnet looked back up to Willow. She hadn't moved. Their eyes met a second, then Garnet stooped, picked the car up, and stuffed it in her pocket. She inclined her head to Willow. Lead on.
"You've never been here?" Willow raised an eyebrow, not for Garnet but for the crowd. "That's weird, it's like... the big set piece of the island, per say." She shrugged. "Whatever."
She saw Garnet bending over and Willow used that opportunity to sway her body unto the second floor. It was frankly worse here than downstairs, and she wasn't sure how it was achieved. It felt almost histrionic to care that much about it because, well, it was.
She paused, turning back to Garnet.
"Yeah, uh, I hope you're not wearing your favorite shoes." She moved toward the French doors. "I think someone blew themselves up which... I don't know, go find a cliff next time."
Willow's feet made some more splatting noises against the guts and viscera. She almost touched the wall, but quickly noticed that they were also covered in the blood. She refrained, not wanting to stain Sierra's jacket more. It was way too warm to wear it, but she wanted it. She felt lonely without her. The stun gun wasn't the same. It didn't smell like her. Willow bent her neck against the inside of her shoulder, pushing her nose down the crook. She took a deep breath.
It smelled just like her salty sweat and her sweet musk. She smiled. Her heart sank. She really missed her.
As she arrived at the doors, she turned around for the last time.
"You should go out first," Willow said simply, "I made it really pretty."
She saw Garnet bending over and Willow used that opportunity to sway her body unto the second floor. It was frankly worse here than downstairs, and she wasn't sure how it was achieved. It felt almost histrionic to care that much about it because, well, it was.
She paused, turning back to Garnet.
"Yeah, uh, I hope you're not wearing your favorite shoes." She moved toward the French doors. "I think someone blew themselves up which... I don't know, go find a cliff next time."
Willow's feet made some more splatting noises against the guts and viscera. She almost touched the wall, but quickly noticed that they were also covered in the blood. She refrained, not wanting to stain Sierra's jacket more. It was way too warm to wear it, but she wanted it. She felt lonely without her. The stun gun wasn't the same. It didn't smell like her. Willow bent her neck against the inside of her shoulder, pushing her nose down the crook. She took a deep breath.
It smelled just like her salty sweat and her sweet musk. She smiled. Her heart sank. She really missed her.
As she arrived at the doors, she turned around for the last time.
"You should go out first," Willow said simply, "I made it really pretty."
Garnet answered the shrug with one of her own. She hadn't been this way, or, she'd avoided this way, or she'd been with Erika, or she'd spent yet another of however many nights curled up in the woods. None of that really seemed important to say out loud. Willow didn't seem to be expecting a response anyway, and was already on the move by the time Garnet straightened up. Garnet followed.
A narrow beam of moonlight shone onto the landing from a hole in the roof, and Willow flitted through it like a spectre. Garnet paused for a second atop the stairs, grimacing. Her legs were still killing her. Maybe that was Willow's play. Lead her around the house until she collapsed from exhaustion. Hah...
The next room was a charnel house. Garnet's stomach roiled at the stench of blood. Jesus. Jesus fuck that was bad. Willow tossed off a flippant remark. Garnet didn't respond. Her flashlight beam flickered to and fro, illuminating the flood of gore washed across the floor. The announcement, with Diego and Ace dead down below, this carnage...
God, Marco. What had made him do this?
Hurt too badly, maybe, or an act of defiance. Deciding to put and end to things on his own terms. Or just an accident? Or, or, or.
It could be anything. She would never know. After their first parting, Garnet had never wanted to see him again. The second parting hadn't ended on a positive note either, just the sense that they were further apart than ever. The guy she'd spent her first day worried out of her mind about, the guy she'd spent a lot of time hating. And this room was what was left of him.
Fuck. God. Christ.
Garnet fixed her eyes on the door to the balcony and stumbled through the room, trying to switch off her senses, trying to ignore what she was stepping in, the tackiness underfoot.
Out. Fresh air. Garnet tried not to heave.
The balcony had been spared the worst of the explosions it seemed, mostly intact save a broken railing and steady enough for its years of abandonment. A lit candle burned in a holder, propped up inside a single cup. A semi-clean sheet was stretched across the surface, pooling at the edges of the platform, and pillows had been laid out to either side.
Garnet glanced back over her shoulder, and then maneuvered herself over to one side, sitting down.
"Cosy."
She tucked her gun into her lap.
A narrow beam of moonlight shone onto the landing from a hole in the roof, and Willow flitted through it like a spectre. Garnet paused for a second atop the stairs, grimacing. Her legs were still killing her. Maybe that was Willow's play. Lead her around the house until she collapsed from exhaustion. Hah...
The next room was a charnel house. Garnet's stomach roiled at the stench of blood. Jesus. Jesus fuck that was bad. Willow tossed off a flippant remark. Garnet didn't respond. Her flashlight beam flickered to and fro, illuminating the flood of gore washed across the floor. The announcement, with Diego and Ace dead down below, this carnage...
God, Marco. What had made him do this?
Hurt too badly, maybe, or an act of defiance. Deciding to put and end to things on his own terms. Or just an accident? Or, or, or.
It could be anything. She would never know. After their first parting, Garnet had never wanted to see him again. The second parting hadn't ended on a positive note either, just the sense that they were further apart than ever. The guy she'd spent her first day worried out of her mind about, the guy she'd spent a lot of time hating. And this room was what was left of him.
Fuck. God. Christ.
Garnet fixed her eyes on the door to the balcony and stumbled through the room, trying to switch off her senses, trying to ignore what she was stepping in, the tackiness underfoot.
Out. Fresh air. Garnet tried not to heave.
The balcony had been spared the worst of the explosions it seemed, mostly intact save a broken railing and steady enough for its years of abandonment. A lit candle burned in a holder, propped up inside a single cup. A semi-clean sheet was stretched across the surface, pooling at the edges of the platform, and pillows had been laid out to either side.
Garnet glanced back over her shoulder, and then maneuvered herself over to one side, sitting down.
"Cosy."
She tucked her gun into her lap.
"Thanks," she replied, politely, "I tried."
Willow moved over to one of the pillow stolen from the quote-unquote unscathed bedrooms. It wasn't soft by any means, but it was better than sitting on the cold granite. The candle had been salvaged from the kitchen, probably a relic from another time since it would surprise her that someone had brought it. The cloth had also been picked from there, it probably had another life as a picnic sheet but it would do the trick.
"So."
She lay there like a siren on a rock in the middle of the sea. She stared at Garnet, unblinking. Willow could kill her if she wanted to. Garnet could kill her if Willow wanted to. But she was undeniably selfish, so she kept staring.
"Endgame."
Another pause in the melody of words that was almost sang by Willow. It was planned, methodically so. Everything had an order and Willow had mentally graphed it on a timeline. She was right on time.
"It's a mess, isn't it?"
Willow moved over to one of the pillow stolen from the quote-unquote unscathed bedrooms. It wasn't soft by any means, but it was better than sitting on the cold granite. The candle had been salvaged from the kitchen, probably a relic from another time since it would surprise her that someone had brought it. The cloth had also been picked from there, it probably had another life as a picnic sheet but it would do the trick.
"So."
She lay there like a siren on a rock in the middle of the sea. She stared at Garnet, unblinking. Willow could kill her if she wanted to. Garnet could kill her if Willow wanted to. But she was undeniably selfish, so she kept staring.
"Endgame."
Another pause in the melody of words that was almost sang by Willow. It was planned, methodically so. Everything had an order and Willow had mentally graphed it on a timeline. She was right on time.
"It's a mess, isn't it?"
Willow's eyes fixed themselves on her with an owllike gaze. Garnet's leg jittered, bouncing up and down atop its crossed position. Either of them could kill each other without a moment's notice, one final body to heap atop the pile. There wasn't a trap—it surely would have sprung by now—but you didn't have to be a master of trickery to point a gun and pull the trigger.
Even still, Willow hadn't. She hadn't done anything, really, unless you counted setting up whatever weirdness this was. She'd killed twice—Garnet thought it was twice—so she had that in her, under the right circumstances.
So did Garnet. They'd both been on the final announcement. For Erika, and for Christina.
She... couldn't quite remember who the other person Willow might have killed was. After a while, the endless reports of bloody violence had carved yet another hollow out of Garnet and she'd lost track of the exact details. The dead and the killers, she could keep right, but who did what to whom was beyond her. It wasn't as if she'd sat down with a notepad before each one.
Christina, though...
How close had they come to reuniting? A night and a decent chunk of a day marked more time than Garnet had spent with almost anyone, way back when all of this had first started. The circumstances weren't normal and a lot of Garnet's attention was on Marco, but Christina had been okay company up until Marco went fleeing into the jungle and Garnet had chased after him. In that time, maybe right until the moments that they'd separated, Garnet had been—she didn't want to call it optimistic, but hopeful. Hopeful that it would turn out some other way than this. Or—fuck. Fuck. How could she even say that? Back at the beginning, the very idea that she'd be sitting on a balcony almost two weeks later, three feet away from the sole survivor of a few busfuls of her classmates, was just impossible.
What had happened, since then? What kind of story had Christina had? All Garnet knew for sure was that it had ended with Willow.
Garnet and Willow. The final two.
A mess? Sure.
"Yeah.
"Willow, what's this... what's this even about?
"I could go for being, y'know, people again for a second but..."
But that was impossible. But they could kill each other in a second. But, but, but, but.
But she was tired of trying to believe this was anything other than inevitable.
Even still, Willow hadn't. She hadn't done anything, really, unless you counted setting up whatever weirdness this was. She'd killed twice—Garnet thought it was twice—so she had that in her, under the right circumstances.
So did Garnet. They'd both been on the final announcement. For Erika, and for Christina.
She... couldn't quite remember who the other person Willow might have killed was. After a while, the endless reports of bloody violence had carved yet another hollow out of Garnet and she'd lost track of the exact details. The dead and the killers, she could keep right, but who did what to whom was beyond her. It wasn't as if she'd sat down with a notepad before each one.
Christina, though...
How close had they come to reuniting? A night and a decent chunk of a day marked more time than Garnet had spent with almost anyone, way back when all of this had first started. The circumstances weren't normal and a lot of Garnet's attention was on Marco, but Christina had been okay company up until Marco went fleeing into the jungle and Garnet had chased after him. In that time, maybe right until the moments that they'd separated, Garnet had been—she didn't want to call it optimistic, but hopeful. Hopeful that it would turn out some other way than this. Or—fuck. Fuck. How could she even say that? Back at the beginning, the very idea that she'd be sitting on a balcony almost two weeks later, three feet away from the sole survivor of a few busfuls of her classmates, was just impossible.
What had happened, since then? What kind of story had Christina had? All Garnet knew for sure was that it had ended with Willow.
Garnet and Willow. The final two.
A mess? Sure.
"Yeah.
"Willow, what's this... what's this even about?
"I could go for being, y'know, people again for a second but..."
But that was impossible. But they could kill each other in a second. But, but, but, but.
But she was tired of trying to believe this was anything other than inevitable.
The unspoken question lay between them. They were about a foot apart, enough so that Willow could reach out with her hand if she wanted to. Instead, she raised her knees to her chin. She laid her head there, finally looking away from Garnet.
The timeline was still perfect. She was still in control. There wasn’t any fear in her movement, nothing hypochondriac about her breathing. Willow pushed the blade of the cleaver against the rail of the balcony. It made a soft clicking noise as she thought about it.
“What is this about?” she parroted in her own voice. Willow swallowed, feeling the glass from earlier against her throat. She swallowed again, and the feeling was gone. “I just… it’s complicated.”
A breath, a sigh, a squeeze. She spoke again.
“I’ve achieved all my goals.”
She listed them mentally, somewhere hidden underneath the ocean. Willow could take them to her grave if she wanted to. She smirked, realizing that she still had one advantage against the world.
But her snide smile was erased when she turned her head back toward Garnet. The weight of everything that had happened and everything that would happen were on her shoulders, and she knew it from start to finish. It was her domain of expertise, really. She shouldn’t worry about this because she could still do it.
She could still die. It wasn’t scary. She knew how it worked. It was just another step, a movement that she could master. She still worried.
“I did everything I needed,” she restated, making sure that Garnet got that. It was pretty crucial. “I’ve done everything for the greater good, even if we don’t really deserve it.”
Willow blinked painfully. Talking about it made it sound strange. It was simpler to keep it hidden. Her body clicked again. She talked.
“I think this is about you, Garnet.” She paused. “I’m just tired of having to pull on everything.” She yawned theatrically, putting her back against one of those French doors. “Pull on the strings, pull on the people, pull on the… I don’t know, I’m bad at words.”
She smiled.
“I just want the right person to come home.” Another effortless lie. She needed the right person to come home. Needs and wants were two different things, but when she spoke, she could almost persuade herself otherwise.
“But,” she propped her head sideways on her knee, “what do you want, Garnet?”
She hated giving people what they wanted.
Well, without making them work for it at least.
The timeline was still perfect. She was still in control. There wasn’t any fear in her movement, nothing hypochondriac about her breathing. Willow pushed the blade of the cleaver against the rail of the balcony. It made a soft clicking noise as she thought about it.
“What is this about?” she parroted in her own voice. Willow swallowed, feeling the glass from earlier against her throat. She swallowed again, and the feeling was gone. “I just… it’s complicated.”
A breath, a sigh, a squeeze. She spoke again.
“I’ve achieved all my goals.”
She listed them mentally, somewhere hidden underneath the ocean. Willow could take them to her grave if she wanted to. She smirked, realizing that she still had one advantage against the world.
But her snide smile was erased when she turned her head back toward Garnet. The weight of everything that had happened and everything that would happen were on her shoulders, and she knew it from start to finish. It was her domain of expertise, really. She shouldn’t worry about this because she could still do it.
She could still die. It wasn’t scary. She knew how it worked. It was just another step, a movement that she could master. She still worried.
“I did everything I needed,” she restated, making sure that Garnet got that. It was pretty crucial. “I’ve done everything for the greater good, even if we don’t really deserve it.”
Willow blinked painfully. Talking about it made it sound strange. It was simpler to keep it hidden. Her body clicked again. She talked.
“I think this is about you, Garnet.” She paused. “I’m just tired of having to pull on everything.” She yawned theatrically, putting her back against one of those French doors. “Pull on the strings, pull on the people, pull on the… I don’t know, I’m bad at words.”
She smiled.
“I just want the right person to come home.” Another effortless lie. She needed the right person to come home. Needs and wants were two different things, but when she spoke, she could almost persuade herself otherwise.
“But,” she propped her head sideways on her knee, “what do you want, Garnet?”
She hated giving people what they wanted.
Well, without making them work for it at least.
Achieving everything. Achieving anything. Had to feel nice, if it was true.
Garnet regarded Willow. She seemed wistful, distant. How many people were walking through her memories?
A smile broke through the dreamy expression on Willow's face. There was something unsettling and cold about it, maybe even cruel. Garnet couldn't begin to explain how she herself had wound up here, but for a brief moment, in that smile, Garnet thought she could take a good stab at explaining Willow.
It faded. The mounting unease did not. The greater good. What did that mean? Willow didn't strike her as a moral crusader, and she probably wasn't talking about trying to kill the murderers, or she wouldn't say it had all been a success. Protecting people was a no, unless she was using a metric separate from keeping them alive and well. The problem was the lack of context. Garnet didn't know enough about her to define what Willow would call 'good'.
A prickle ran down Garnet's spine. About her. About the right person coming home. The right person.
How could Willow just say that? She didn't know Garnet, any more than Garnet knew Willow. That wasn't something you took in at a glance.
Willow asked.
Garnet couldn't help from choking out a laugh.
"What do I...? To be back in Chattanooga. For my team to be alive, for everyone to be alive, to be—" She broke off, cracking, creaking.
"—Not to be sitting here waiting for which of us is gonna decide the truce is over. Maybe both of us, maybe we both draw and nobody wins and the whole thing is even more pointless and fucked.
"But that's what we're doing, right?
"I dunno if you're waiting for me or I'm waiting for you or—or... but it's fucking, sooner or later, it's just gonna fucking happen, isn't it?"
An ending.
Garnet regarded Willow. She seemed wistful, distant. How many people were walking through her memories?
A smile broke through the dreamy expression on Willow's face. There was something unsettling and cold about it, maybe even cruel. Garnet couldn't begin to explain how she herself had wound up here, but for a brief moment, in that smile, Garnet thought she could take a good stab at explaining Willow.
It faded. The mounting unease did not. The greater good. What did that mean? Willow didn't strike her as a moral crusader, and she probably wasn't talking about trying to kill the murderers, or she wouldn't say it had all been a success. Protecting people was a no, unless she was using a metric separate from keeping them alive and well. The problem was the lack of context. Garnet didn't know enough about her to define what Willow would call 'good'.
A prickle ran down Garnet's spine. About her. About the right person coming home. The right person.
How could Willow just say that? She didn't know Garnet, any more than Garnet knew Willow. That wasn't something you took in at a glance.
Willow asked.
Garnet couldn't help from choking out a laugh.
"What do I...? To be back in Chattanooga. For my team to be alive, for everyone to be alive, to be—" She broke off, cracking, creaking.
"—Not to be sitting here waiting for which of us is gonna decide the truce is over. Maybe both of us, maybe we both draw and nobody wins and the whole thing is even more pointless and fucked.
"But that's what we're doing, right?
"I dunno if you're waiting for me or I'm waiting for you or—or... but it's fucking, sooner or later, it's just gonna fucking happen, isn't it?"
An ending.
Pointless and fucked.
It was a fitting description of the situation.
It was pointless and it was fucked, and Willow was simply trying to stay above the murky water on her tippy toes. She was forgetting where her body started and where the world ended, her brain foggy and soggy as it tried to simultaneously two thoughts.
She kept breathing though and she would still breathe in more oxygen as long as she could. The unrealistic dream of Garnet was in touch with Willow, and she almost felt a bond. Almost. There was a lifetime between them. It was wedged between them like Daria's still bloodied knife hidden in her jacket. It was an impossible dream and so Willow respected it.
But normalcy had been thrown out the window, and it wouldn't come back even if someone else did. Her mind froze for a second.
Was she doing the right thing? She knew she was doing what was right for her, but for the rest of the world? She tried to remember what the world wanted, and how hard she stomped on it. Did she really want to give it to them?
Really?
"I mean…” She paused. Words weighed, her hands at the ready. One was heavier than the rest, so she discarded it into the pile for later.
"I want it to be boring." She spoke in a clear rhythm alongside her heart, both rehearsed. "Anticlimactic. I want people to..."
Click away? Ignore? Press X at the corner of the screen? Right there? Write a stupid blogpost about it? Get a hobby?
Yeah.
Do something other than watch this.
She shrugged.
It was private. Their moment in time and space to be spent together and no-one else’s.
But every hidden thing became evident once highlighted, and she didn't want it to become clear. It was pure spite, anger even. A clumsy attempt to avoid the ever-growing Streisand effect. She bit her lips. Maybe she had been wrong about Garnet. She could just test that with a very simple statement.
"If you don't want that…” Her hands laid flat against the balcony, it was her attempt to be neutral, calm, but inside she wanted to vomit. "I guess you'll have to get through me."
She cackled, throwing her head back.
It was a fitting description of the situation.
It was pointless and it was fucked, and Willow was simply trying to stay above the murky water on her tippy toes. She was forgetting where her body started and where the world ended, her brain foggy and soggy as it tried to simultaneously two thoughts.
She kept breathing though and she would still breathe in more oxygen as long as she could. The unrealistic dream of Garnet was in touch with Willow, and she almost felt a bond. Almost. There was a lifetime between them. It was wedged between them like Daria's still bloodied knife hidden in her jacket. It was an impossible dream and so Willow respected it.
But normalcy had been thrown out the window, and it wouldn't come back even if someone else did. Her mind froze for a second.
Was she doing the right thing? She knew she was doing what was right for her, but for the rest of the world? She tried to remember what the world wanted, and how hard she stomped on it. Did she really want to give it to them?
Really?
"I mean…” She paused. Words weighed, her hands at the ready. One was heavier than the rest, so she discarded it into the pile for later.
"I want it to be boring." She spoke in a clear rhythm alongside her heart, both rehearsed. "Anticlimactic. I want people to..."
Click away? Ignore? Press X at the corner of the screen? Right there? Write a stupid blogpost about it? Get a hobby?
Yeah.
Do something other than watch this.
She shrugged.
It was private. Their moment in time and space to be spent together and no-one else’s.
But every hidden thing became evident once highlighted, and she didn't want it to become clear. It was pure spite, anger even. A clumsy attempt to avoid the ever-growing Streisand effect. She bit her lips. Maybe she had been wrong about Garnet. She could just test that with a very simple statement.
"If you don't want that…” Her hands laid flat against the balcony, it was her attempt to be neutral, calm, but inside she wanted to vomit. "I guess you'll have to get through me."
She cackled, throwing her head back.
Garnet's leg jittered. Willow resumed talking.
Being boring. Drawing it out, making this whole thing pointless and dull and frustrating. Stall out the death clock for as long as they could.
Garnet didn't know if they could even stall out this conversation.
She opened her mouth to speak, and then Willow laughed, laughed like broken glass.
Through her.
The jagged sound had long faded when Garnet stirred the silence once again.
"Some fucking time too late to get defiant, don't you think?"
She'd tried. She'd tried. She had to believe that she'd tried.
She didn't have the tools didn't have the will didn't have the guts.
The time to take a stand had gone by a long time ago. When there were more than two people alive.
Garnet's hand went into her pocket. She felt the car there.
Now it was just... exhausting. Garnet's breaking point passed a long while back, too.
There was more to what Willow was saying than just staying here and staying alive. Trust, and yeah, bravery.
Her thumb tapped on the car.
"...If that's what you really wanted, I think you would have played hide and go seek. Big mansion."
Being boring. Drawing it out, making this whole thing pointless and dull and frustrating. Stall out the death clock for as long as they could.
Garnet didn't know if they could even stall out this conversation.
She opened her mouth to speak, and then Willow laughed, laughed like broken glass.
Through her.
The jagged sound had long faded when Garnet stirred the silence once again.
"Some fucking time too late to get defiant, don't you think?"
She'd tried. She'd tried. She had to believe that she'd tried.
She didn't have the tools didn't have the will didn't have the guts.
The time to take a stand had gone by a long time ago. When there were more than two people alive.
Garnet's hand went into her pocket. She felt the car there.
Now it was just... exhausting. Garnet's breaking point passed a long while back, too.
There was more to what Willow was saying than just staying here and staying alive. Trust, and yeah, bravery.
Her thumb tapped on the car.
"...If that's what you really wanted, I think you would have played hide and go seek. Big mansion."
Hide-and-seek?
Maybe Garnet was seeing through her plan, maybe she had been clumsy when she covered her tracks in the mansion. She stopped looking at Garnet, instead focusing at the candle. She reminded herself where she put the accelerant.
It was possible it would come into play earlier than she thought.
She looked back at Garnet. The lighter in her pocket suddenly felt loaded. The stickiness felt homely like the distortion from the announcements and the buzzing of flies on the people she used to know.
This was home. It would be home for as long as she desired it to be.
"I was busy." She replied. She was being honest. She had been busy, overworked even. Willow had been terribly busy. "I was…” her shoulders relaxed, “too busy."
She sighed wistfully. That was one of her failures. She had spread herself too thin, trying to get her web around. It was easy to weave, but much harder to maintain it, and she had failed. This could have been done a couple of days ago if she had concentrated, if she hadn't been so selfish.
But Willow was greedy. And she was a coward. And she wasn't even sure if she wanted this actually, but she was nevertheless doing it. She didn't fear death, and she didn't fear pain, but there was something holding her back.
"What were you up to before now?" She asked.
She raised an eyebrow. Garnet and Willow shared many things, but the thing they shared the most was how they played. Two girls that hid under the radar, or at least it was what Willow presumed.
It could have just have been dumb luck for Garnet. For Willow. For the both of them.
"Why didn't you do anything?"
Maybe Garnet was seeing through her plan, maybe she had been clumsy when she covered her tracks in the mansion. She stopped looking at Garnet, instead focusing at the candle. She reminded herself where she put the accelerant.
It was possible it would come into play earlier than she thought.
She looked back at Garnet. The lighter in her pocket suddenly felt loaded. The stickiness felt homely like the distortion from the announcements and the buzzing of flies on the people she used to know.
This was home. It would be home for as long as she desired it to be.
"I was busy." She replied. She was being honest. She had been busy, overworked even. Willow had been terribly busy. "I was…” her shoulders relaxed, “too busy."
She sighed wistfully. That was one of her failures. She had spread herself too thin, trying to get her web around. It was easy to weave, but much harder to maintain it, and she had failed. This could have been done a couple of days ago if she had concentrated, if she hadn't been so selfish.
But Willow was greedy. And she was a coward. And she wasn't even sure if she wanted this actually, but she was nevertheless doing it. She didn't fear death, and she didn't fear pain, but there was something holding her back.
"What were you up to before now?" She asked.
She raised an eyebrow. Garnet and Willow shared many things, but the thing they shared the most was how they played. Two girls that hid under the radar, or at least it was what Willow presumed.
It could have just have been dumb luck for Garnet. For Willow. For the both of them.
"Why didn't you do anything?"
Willow slid away from the question. Garnet let her, but started turning the non-response over in her head.
The claim just didn't ring true, right? By stepping out into the open first thing, Willow was staking whatever ideological ground she was trying to hold on Garnet not charging in guns blazing. That wasn't a gamble she had to take. Either talking to Garnet mattered more than stalling, or Willow had something else in mind.
Reason Garnet wasn't calling bullshit was—she wanted to say that not holding one final conversation felt wrong, but...
If she called it out. If she broke these communications down, what was next? Only one place to go from there.
A question for a question. Garnet tried not to flinch.
"I was—" she stopped. How to explain these two weeks? Could she explain these two weeks?
"Better not to do anything than go around killing everyone."
An answer, but the easy one, the cheap one.
Garnet looked away. It was a force of will to drag herself back around.
The claim just didn't ring true, right? By stepping out into the open first thing, Willow was staking whatever ideological ground she was trying to hold on Garnet not charging in guns blazing. That wasn't a gamble she had to take. Either talking to Garnet mattered more than stalling, or Willow had something else in mind.
Reason Garnet wasn't calling bullshit was—she wanted to say that not holding one final conversation felt wrong, but...
If she called it out. If she broke these communications down, what was next? Only one place to go from there.
A question for a question. Garnet tried not to flinch.
"I was—" she stopped. How to explain these two weeks? Could she explain these two weeks?
"Better not to do anything than go around killing everyone."
An answer, but the easy one, the cheap one.
Garnet looked away. It was a force of will to drag herself back around.