[Wolves Camp | Cosmos 26th, 2526 | Early Morning]
To step out of the fog that had filled her mind for months—to feel fully, completely, herself again—was almost excruciatingly jarring. From the moment Lena severed her connection to that Hunter’s mind, it was as though she was finally awake. And while it took almost a fortnight for her to feel confident in saying she was well, the overwhelming relief of regaining her mind carried her through her body’s recovery. Soon enough she was walking the campgrounds again, surrounded by the curious stares and incessant chatter of her clan. And even though she still loathed the attention, she was glad to be present. To be home.
All of those warm fuzzy feelings aside, however, she was infuriatingly bored. Her mother had decided to permanently reassign Perry and Sarah to Emmett and Lena was inclined to agree. Jumping from one Instructor to another wouldn’t benefit either Recruit, but her sister’s detriment was obvious. Sarah needed consistency and, if Lena were honest, she would have to admit Emmett was likely a better fit for her as well. A fine arrangement, which left Lena with nothing to do.
Her mother, understandably, wanted her nowhere near the field for the foreseeable future, and all newly inducted Recruits were already assigned to their Instructors. Helping around the encampment with Eldric was good enough to occupy her time, but it was dull work and being just another pair of hands didn’t really make her feel the most useful.
So, when Eldric left that morning, Lena felt disinterested in following, and once again found herself with nothing to do; aimlessly roaming, thoughts adrift, until she found herself in front of a familiar gravestone.
Unlike her sisters, Lena hadn't been one to think too deeply on the afterlife. On the rare occasions she'd visited Lucille's grave in the past she'd done it as a means to attempt some sort of connection. To wonder what she was supposed to feel and why couldn't she feel it. With time she made peace with the notion that her resentment was as empty as the grave itself. Whoever Lucille had been, she wasn't there. And whatever place she should have had in Lena's life... It was no longer hers. All she would ever know of the woman was the impression she'd left on those who still lived. An impression that was contentious at best.
“Wouldn't have expected to find you here.”
Lena didn't stir at her mother's voice. She had heard her footsteps and, unlike herself, it wasn't unusual to find her here. “I don't know why I've come. I'm not one to speak to gravestones.”
“They're very good listeners, if nothing else,” her mother quipped.
Lena watched her as she delicately laid a small bundle of flowers before the stone, and then sat on a sunny patch of grass. A sudden flash of a young girl with bright blue eyes wearing the same flowers in her hair briefly crossed the forefront of her mind. Reluctantly, she pushed it away.
“I don't have much to say...” to her. Lena left the thought unfinished, though she guessed her mother understood well enough what she meant.
“You have her eyes. And her insufferable wits. You think you get your stubbornness from me, but you don't. I try not to think of it. It's not fair of me to see so much of her in you, but I also can't deny it's there. I wonder what kind of person you might have become with her.”
Lena sighed. “I don't think that matters, mom.”
A soft chuckle escaped Claire’s lips and she gently patted the grass at her side in a silent bid for Lena to join her. She hesitated, but eventually sat next to her mother, shoulders dropping with a sigh.
“When I sent you to the White Shadows for the first time I asked Witters not to speak of her, or your history, unprompted. I expected you to ask when you decided you were ready to know more. It surprised me that you never have, but perhaps it shouldn’t. Why would you want her name spoken when no one else does, right?”
“I have a mother I do know. I’ve known two fathers in my life. I know my sisters. I am the person that I am. There’s nothing for me in the ghost of her or the ghost of who I might have been. The only thing I’ve ever gained from trying to dig up her memory was resentment. And I don’t like the person I become under its influence. That’s a door I prefer to keep tightly shut.”
“I understand, pup. I do. However, keeping a door closed only to stare at it isn’t any better. If one day you feel yourself strong enough not to allow resentment to rule your actions as it once did... Consider that you might benefit from confronting those feelings.”
“How do you not hate her?” Lena blurted out the question before she could think to hold it back. And the bitterness she’d been trying to keep restrained rose to the surface. “All of your memories of her are so fond. Even the one where—” Lena cut herself off, seeing the tension building in her mother’s posture. It hadn’t been her intention to touch any sore spots. “I'm sorry,” she mumbled. “That was out of line.”
“No.” Claire sighed. “No. That's a fair question for you to ask. In turn, let me ask you this: how deep a wound would it take for you to stop loving your sisters? How badly would they have to burn you for it to overshadow every fond memory of them? Lucille was always complicated. I found her adrift and I feel a part of her, no matter what, always refused to belong anywhere. I just never expected this would be the way she’d leave us. I wondered what signs I missed, in what ways I was so overwhelmed by becoming Alpha that I failed to notice her sense of belonging had waned. I felt as though I failed her at some point prior, in some capacity. If she couldn’t come to me about failing to fulfill a contract, then certainly I must have.”
“You can’t take responsibility for her choices, mom.”
“This clan is a reflection of my leadership, pup. Lucille’s failures were my failures. Eddie’s weakness was my weakness. Irene’s wrath...” Claire trailed off into a mournful silence, the heaviness of which permeated every word that followed. “They paid for their mistakes, so I can forgive them and live with mine. The person who betrayed this clan, who killed one of our own, died on the edge of my blade and I don’t mourn her death. I will, however, always mourn my sister... Whatever became of her.”
Lena watched the gravestone, cold and unmoving, guarding an empty grave, and for a moment she wondered about the person it was meant to represent. Not the woman who fled and betrayed her clan, but the girl her mother remembered with such fondness. What had become of her?
“I'm sorry, mom. I shouldn't have gone into that village. I shouldn't have put myself in a position to...” She sighed. “You trusted me not to act recklessly.”
“Your recklessness is my recklessness,” Claire said, dismissing her apology. “When I lost Richard, grief overcame my senses. My anger tainted the very core of this clan and the damage it wrought may never be truly mended. I vowed to never let that happen again, but I'll be honest, pup, your chance encounter with Lady Death did a wonderful number on my resolve.”
Lena winced, the memory of her mother’s demeanor following her dad’s death was much fresher in her mind than she would have liked. “I’m sorry,” she repeated.
Claire turned to face Lena with an amused smile. “You've had more than your share of consequences, pup. And surely being made to idle is punishment enough, isn't it? That's why you wandered this far from camp.”
“Am I that obvious?” Lena chuckled.
“To me? Of course.” Claire chuckled. “Rumor has it, if you were to stop by the training grounds around this time you might encounter a certain someone who might benefit from your assistance.”
“Surely if that were the case they’d be wise enough to ask for it,” Lena said, unable to conceal the laughter in her voice.
“Oh, surely. Still, you are in need of something to occupy your time.”
Lena hummed in wordless agreement, placing her hand on her mother's shoulder and gently squeezing. She then rose to her feet and, with one final glance at Lucille's grave, left her to mourn in private.
----------------------------------------
[Wolves Camp | Cosmos 26th, 2526 | Early Morning]
“Guard up!”
The exasperated phrase had been a constant assault on Madeline’s already ringing ears for the better part of two weeks. She appreciated Dani’s help and in all fairness to both of them, the training had improved her fighting skills to a degree, but it was evident by now that they had hit a wall neither of them knew how to overcome.
“It is,” she muttered, picking up her fallen training blade for what felt like the fiftieth time that morning.
“If it were I wouldn’t have gotten that hit in,” Dani argued. “You were the one who told me not to go easy on you.”
Madeline let out an exasperated breath. The air was already sweltering hot even this early in the morning and humidity seemed to rise from the forest ground and permeate their already sweat-drenched clothes. It was making them both irritable, which made every matter even worse. She would have suggested they call it a day if not for the fact she was dealing with a person whose vocabulary did not include the word ‘quit’.
“If you’d like, I can explain what you’re doing wrong.”
For the first, and hopefully last, time, the amused smugness in Lena’s voice was almost music to Madeline’s ears. If anything it was a welcome reprieve from the tense frustration plaguing the training grounds thus far.
“Please, enlighten me,” Madeline said, letting her shoulders sag in defeat.
Lena shook her head walking over to the weapon rack and taking one of the training swords. “No, not you. Well, you as well, but right now I’m talking about this one here,” she said, taking a quick swipe at Dani, who reacted a bit too late and ended up taking a firm blow to the side of the head.
“Ow, fuck,” she hissed, rubbing the side of her face. “Yeah, of course it’s me. Please, go on.”
“Guard up,” Lena said, smirking. “Don’t be upset, you’re not an Instructor. You haven’t even been an Active that long. There’s a reason mom doesn’t like unsanctioned training sessions like this. It takes more than being a good fighter.”
“I asked her to help me out,” Madeline interjected. “I didn’t want the entire clan knowing about it, which begs the question...”
Lena shrugged. “The Alpha always knows.”
“Oh, so mom sent you?” Dani asked, taking Lena’s interruption as the perfect excuse to go for her waterskin. “Great.”
“She didn’t send me.” Lena chuckled. “Don’t be so defensive. The truth of the matter is I’m extremely bored and mom suggested giving you two some guidance would be something to do.”
Madeline held back an amused scoff at the tone Lena’s voice had taken. The slight quirk of her lips as she feigned disinterest, toying with the training weapon in her hand. Not the look of a seasoned assassin, but an older sister trying to get her sibling to admit they need help. Dani's reluctance was evident, but she eventually shrugged.
“Fine,” she said, after a drink of water. “Take over, then.”
“No no, this is your training still, don’t expect me to do all the work for you, kiddo.”
Dani groaned, but after another drink of water returned to the spar, retaking her stance. “Okay, then what do you suggest?”
Lena nodded her approval and continued to toy with the training sword in her hand as paced circles around the two of them. Madeline tracked her movement with the corner of her eyes and Dani took the opportunity to punish her lack of attention with a warning blow to the arm.
“Guard up,” she repeated, though with a smirk this time.
Lena chuckled at the jest. “Alright, kiddo. So here’s your issue... You’re trying to teach in the same way you were taught.”
As she circled the both of them, Lena struck out with her training sword, clashing it against Dani’s. Instinctively, Dani pushed Lena’s blade aside with her own, then lunged in a counter strike. Lena sidestepped out of the way and continued pacing as though the attack never happened, amusement tinging her words.
“And this works for you, because you’re a very hands-on learner. You’re a doer. Telling you to think before you act only hinders you. It slows you down,” Lena continued. “But this one...” she said, tapping Madeline in the back of the head. “Here is a thinker. A quick thinker. An excellent thinker. Someone who reads every room upon entering, who plays chess like an olith player and lies as easily as breathing.”
Madeline couldn’t help a spark of annoyance at being spoken about as though she wasn’t present. “Please, stop, I’m blushing,” she deadpanned.
Thankfully, she was alert enough to dodge Lena’s training sword as it swung at her head. Not as thankfully, it drew her focus away from Dani, who took the opportunity to jab her right in the middle of the back.
“Watch your surroundings,” she said.
Madeline hissed as the blunt point of the training sword sent a shockwave of pain down the length of her spine. “Ugh, fuck you, that hurt.”
Lena chuckled. “Alright, kiddo, that’s quite enough.”
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to get you that bad, are you alright?” Dani asked, though with a poorly concealed chuckle underneath.
“It’s fine, just give me a second,” Madeline grumbled, rubbing what she could reach of the sore spot.
Lena continued to circle the pair of them, and Madeline could just about feel her scrutinizing gaze. “You play chess like an Olith player,” she repeated.
“So you’ve said.”
“I have, but you’re yet to listen.” Quicker than Madeline could think to react, Lena struck her training sword again, hard enough to knock it aside, and used the opening to jab the tip of her sword to the spot between Madeline’s eyes. “Remember you’ll always be fighting a person. Reading people is what you do best. And despite what you might have been told, you’re not good for just one thing.”
Lena’s choice of words dealt a blow more forceful than Dani’s weapon ever could—as if they touched the back of her mind, drawing out echoes of a voice she hoped to never hear again—and it was all Madeline could do not to crumble under the weight. Even though Lena assured her many times she was still unable to peer into her memories, and Madeline believed she would know if her friend had been lying, this wasn’t the first time Lena had said or done something to make her wonder. Given enough time for the words to sink in, Lena lowered the training sword.
“Learn your opponent like you would someone sitting across a tavern’s table. You don’t necessarily have to be the best fighter, you just have to be the better player.”
Madeline nodded and wordlessly watched as Lena pulled Dani aside to whisper instructions out of earshot. It gave her time to ground herself again, force her mind away from the memory of being a scolded child, stuck in a stuffy tavern room, inhaling the overbearing scent of jasmine—her mother’s favorite—and cheap tobacco smoke. Instead, she focused on the discomfort of her sweat-drenched tunic, the rustling of leaves blowing in a warm breeze, the unforgiving intensity of the sun as it continued its ascent over her head. She was filthy from the morning’s training, her muscles ached from the body blows she’d sustained, what adrenaline was yet to leave her system now fought a losing battle against the inevitable onset of exhaustion... Nothing about who she was in that training field would be considered proper, respectable, or any of the many adjectives she’d once worn for a mask.
Lena parted from her sister with a playful shove, mirth in her eyes, and stepped away to give them space. For a split second, Dani toyed with the weapon in her hand, her demeanor that of a child playing pretend, but her grip steadied as she made her approach. Her footsteps turned slow and measured like a predator encroaching on prey. The change was so abrupt, yet so natural, it was almost startling.
Madeline mirrored her stance, mimicking the steel-like resolve in her steps as they circled each other. Dani seemed to instantly know what she was doing, because she smirked; her childish demeanor peering through the façade moments before she unleashed her first blow.
Dani’s blow met her training sword, and pain traveled up Madeline’s arm. The viciousness of the impact was unlike anything Dani had dealt her in the past and its purposefulness felt akin to a threat. A not-so-gentle reminder that to some degree Dani would always be holding back.
Keeping Lena’s advice in mind, Madeline patiently avoided or parried the Wolf’s attacks, suffering half blows as punishment for the occasional slip. The longer she stalled her offense the more she could feel impatience rise in Dani, bubbling just underneath the surface, like a beast pressing against the bars of its cage. Every subsequent blow dealt was increasingly vicious but only ever so far as to knock her off balance, or jolt her to attention. Sharp teeth gnashing at her heels rather than a bite to the jugular.
“I see it,” she said.
“What?” Dani asked, mid-blow.
Madeline allowed the question to linger as she focused on dodging out of the way of Dani's blows without losing her footing, watching the Wolf's expression carefully all the while. Only when Dani's brow furrowed and she opened her mouth to repeat the question did Madeline answer it.
“I see why your mother would want you as Alpha in her stead.”
And there it was. Just a momentary lapse, a split second when Dani’s fingers went slack on the grip of her training blade. The kind of flinch Madeline knew she could never achieve with physical blows. She wasted no time taking advantage of the opportunity, striking Dani’s hand hard enough that she dropped the blade, then immediately raising her own towards her face, tapping her in the middle of the forehead.
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Dani scoffed, barely containing a grimace as she curled and uncurled her fingers. “You know that will only ever work once, right?”
Maddie smirked. “Realistically, I only need it to work once.”
“Not a bad blow, I’ll give you that,” Dani chuckled, picking up her training blade with her left hand and taking it back to the rack. “Precise. I guess you learned something from me after all.”
Madeline watched Dani’s posture as she lingered around the weapon rack, still flexing the fingers of her wielding hand. “I didn’t hit you too hard, there, did I, kid?”
“It’s sore, but I’ll be fine.”
Madeline hummed, and from the corner of one eye, she watched Lena lean back into one of the surrounding trees, observing as if their spar wasn’t yet over. “You know, it’s alright if you’re a little bit angry. No one likes to lose and that was a cheap shot on my part.”
Dani took a deep breath and, as she exhaled, her body gradually relaxed. “You did what you were supposed to do. I don’t like that it worked, but I’m not angry.” She walked back to her water skin and took a big swig. “I need a dip in the lake and some food. Is it cool if we pick this up tomorrow?”
“Of course.”
Madeline watched as Dani gathered her personal effects with uncharacteristic haste, her shoulders relaxing just a touch more as she began to depart the training grounds, wordlessly waving over her shoulder. Lena watched her leave until she vanished among the trees, ever the protective older sister.
“I expected you to elaborate,” she said.
“She didn’t want me to,” Maddie replied, turning to fetch her own bag and heaving it over one shoulder. “With some people it pays to confront them with things they aren’t ready to hear, Dani isn’t one of those people.”
Lena chuckled. “There she is. That’s what I was talking about right there.”
Madeline shrugged quietly. The note of pride in her friend’s voice was warm but uncomfortable. It took a measure of resolve not to scurry away from it like a roach escaping torchlight. “I don’t like it. The person I was, who I was raised to be. I don’t like it and you know it.”
“If you had ever been that person, truly been that person, you wouldn’t be here.” Lena sighed and placed a hand on Madeline’s shoulder; briefly, as if aware that any more would be too much to withstand at that moment, before leading the way back to camp. “There is no shame in who you are, Mads.”
Madeline blew out a breath, trying to pull her mind back to her usual routine rather than dwelling on her previous life. She calmly steered herself towards the rookery, unsurprised when Lena fell in step with her. “Maybe I’ll feel that way eventually.”
Lena acquiesced with a quiet nod, allowing their walk to turn blissfully silent until the cacophony of feathery wings and raven caws finally shattered it. Madeline couldn’t help but grin at the birds and their ruckus. Prior to joining the Wolfpack she’d never been around many animals, and when informed she would need to bond with a bird in order to become a field Scout she’d been rightfully wary. However she quickly learned that not only were ravens extremely intelligent birds, they could also have very distinct personalities. A fact she learned in practice by being assigned the most skittish feathery asshole the camp had to offer, whom she sarcastically named Sunny.
Sunny was not a friendly bird by most people’s accounts. The rookery workers had admitted they’d assigned him to her as a prank, expecting that the raven’s brash character would quickly wear the Newhavener down. In truth, despite the bird’s gloomy disposition and mistrusting nature, Madeline found him to be curious and food motivated underneath. And while his training had earned her quite a few scrapes and puncture wounds, they ended up being a decent fit for each other in the end.
As they drew closer to the rookery towers and Madeline whistled for her companion, Lena casually hung a few steps back. Sunny’s recognizable squawk answered and before too long the raven flew down and landed on the ground at her feet. Its dark beady eyes glared at her in reprimand as it immediately took to hopping about and pecking at her boots.
“Sir,” Madeline said, chuckling. “Sir, what are you doing? What? Is your highness angry I didn’t bring him snacks at the exact same time as usual today? Is that what this is? Hm?”
The sound of her voice drew the bird’s attention enough to stop his assault. Sunny stared at her, silent for only a moment, before flapping his wings indignantly and screeching with all the might of his little bird lungs.
Madeline merely rolled her eyes and dropped her bag to the floor, allowing the raven to curiously poke his beak into the outer pockets one by one until he finally came up with a whole walnut, which he then proceeded to work on cracking against a nearby rock.
Leaving the bird to his own devices, Madeline sat under the shade of a tree and stretched her legs with a groan. “I’ve been running into Sarah here more and more as of late,” she said, glancing at Lena. “Seems like we missed her today.”
“Has she been talking your ear off about birds every day?” Lena asked, coming to join her after a silent moment.
“Among other things,” Maddie responded. “I think she’s been probing me about Scout work. And to be quite honest, considering I nearly didn’t realize, I’d say she’s showing a great deal of promise if that’s what she wants to do.”
Lena shook her head, amusement slowly filling her expression until it exploded in a soft fit of laughter. “Oh. Oh yes.” Her laughter faded into a soft chuckle, and she added. “The two of you have plenty in common, I think.”
Madeline snorted, watching as Sunny finished off the walnut he’d been so persistently cracking and set off to find another. “Yeah?”
“Sarah could be a brilliant assassin, but it’s been very clear to me for a while now that it would never be something she wants. And I hoped, smart as she is, that the need to follow after mine or Dani’s footsteps wouldn’t override her will to find her own path.”
“Was being an assassin ever something you wanted to do? Or were you following someone else’s footsteps?”
The question lingered and for a moment Madeline wondered if she’d finally overstepped, but Lena eventually sighed. “I don’t know.” With a shrug, she added, “Dani has her father’s shadow over her head. I have Lucille’s. And if I envy Sarah for one thing it’s that when others look at her they don’t see anyone’s ghost instead.”
Madeline sighed as well, looking up at the tree branches above their heads adorned by the dark silhouettes of perching ravens. There were things she could say, questions she could ask, but all of it felt like added weight to an already heavy turn of conversation.
“You know,” she said instead, “one of my favorite cons was to pretend to be a mind reader.”
“Is that so?” Lena chuckled. “Do tell. How did you manage that?”
“Was pretty easy. People are far more transparent than they think they are. All I had to do was sell the lie of how I found their truth. It also helped that I am visibly Enlightened and any real telepaths wouldn’t be able to read me.”
“No wonder you were so confident my attempts would fail,” Lena muttered, amusement mixed in with a note of frustration.
“Did they need to? You seem to have gotten to know me well enough without it.”
Madeline didn’t intend for the words to come off as bitter as they had, and Lena’s silence in the aftermath assured her it hadn’t gone unnoticed.
“Probably better,” Lena mumbled eventually. “I wonder about that sometimes. How well would I know you if I could be in your head? I have the feeling it’s far more chaotic in there than you’ll ever let on.” When all Madeline could react with was a bitter chuckle, Lena continued to speak. “We’re friends, Mads. I know how bitter you still are about your past because I get to hear it in your voice whenever you mention Newhaven, even in passing. People are far more transparent than they think they are. Congratulations, you’re a person too.”
“Sometimes I’m not sure if I know how to be,” Madeline admitted.
“I think you do alright,” Lena reassured.
With a flutter of wings, Sunny came to perch upon her knee, dropping a walnut onto her lap with a soft caw. Madeline chuckled and stroked the bird’s feathery head with her index finger. Sunny allowed the affection for a few moments before cawing once again and pecking the side of her hand in reproach. She pulled her hand back with a snort as the bird poofed up its feathers indignantly and flew away to join the rest of the clan’s flock.
“Jerk,” Madeline muttered fondly, picking up the walnut from her lap and eating it.
She tried to keep Sunny in her sights for as long as possible, but soon enough the bird became indistinguishable from all the others. Circling the clearing overhead or perched amidst the tree branches. Just one shadow among many.
When Emmett approached her in Newhaven she thought it a mutually beneficial arrangement; lend her skills to the Wolfpack in exchange for leaving behind the person she was made to become. Being seen as anything more than merely useful, being seen at all, hadn’t been a part of that plan. But terrifying as it was, it felt fitting. She’d lived her life thus far as a wolf in sheep's clothing. And perhaps it was time for that disguise to fall away at last.
----------------------------------------
[Hunters’ Outpost | Cosmos 26th, 2526 | Sunrise]
To say the Outpost had returned to normal might have been too much of an overstatement, but it had, at least, fallen back into a familiar routine. Johanna was quick to make it a point that she would no longer accept being tended to, leaving any concerned parties no choice but to awkwardly hover as she reclaimed all the spaces she deemed to be her own. And after months of silence and listlessness, it was hard to take her stubbornness with anything other than relief.
Within the first few weeks of Johanna’s recovery, Gerald had kept a watchful distance for the most part, due to how she seemed to want to regain some sense of normalcy, and the fact he wasn’t sure how normal he could act considering how close they’d come to losing her; what that loss might have meant. In truth he felt as though they’d teetered so close to the edge of an abyss, solid ground may never feel as steady as it did before.
It was an understandable feeling, and one he was sure they all shared to some extent, but it wasn’t particularly fair. Because Johanna was alive. She was awake. And she didn’t deserve to be mourned as though she were a ghost.
It was with that spiraling thought that he wandered into the forest that morning, weary from a night’s watch, hoping to find some solace in the cool waters of the nearby creek. Instead Gerald stumbled upon Jo’s still form, partially obscured in the shadows cast by the thick branches of a tree whose base she seemed to be intensely scrutinizing. In her right hand, she toyed with what seemed like a blade, but Gerald soon realized was one of the rusty trowels they used to tend the garden. After drawing a deep breath, Jo crouched down and plunged the implement into the earth, digging up a small hole at the base of the tree. Once through, she stabbed the trowel into the ground beside the open hole. She left it resting there as she stood, an agitated huff blowing past her lips, then placed both palms against the trunk of the tree, leaning against it as she stared at the freshly dug spot. Her fingers dug into the bark, a growl rose in the back of her throat and she pushed away from it, only managing to walk a couple of steps before forcing herself to return.
Gerald wasn’t sure what he’d stumbled upon. Johanna’s distress over the freshly dug spot was the kind of agitation he would expect from someone forcing themselves to the edge of a cliff and telling themselves they must jump. And even though some part of him felt it might be better to walk past as though he hadn’t witnessed it, he took a step closer instead. Carefully, but not quiet enough to go unnoticed.
Jo whipped around towards the sound of his footsteps, and much to Gerald’s surprise, chuckled at the sight of him there.
“Hey,” she greeted. And as she breathed out the word, all tension seemed to leave her body with it.
“Hey. Am I... Interrupting something?” Gerald asked, taking another uncertain step closer.
Jo shook her head, a trace of amusement sparking in her eyes as she beckoned him closer by holding out her hand. Gerald joined her under the shade of the tree and stared at the freshly dug earth. An empty hole.
“I...” Jo breathed out in a frustrated huff. “I need to. And I can’t. And it’s...” She trailed off, one hand reaching for the silver chain around her neck, fingers tensing around it.
Oh.
“Are you su—?”
“Yes,” Jo quickly cut him off, as if unwilling to even allow the question to reach her ears. “It’s...” she sighed and lowered her hand from the chain, fist clenching at her side. Gerald watched her gaze flicker as she searched for words, pushed her voice to sound them out, slowly, carefully. “I broke my promise. I... I chose... This...” she gestured between the two of them. “It’s not what they wanted. Not what they would want. I shouldn’t still cling to them. Their memory. Feels wrong. Selfish.”
“I don’t think they would fault you for that,” Gerald said. “I doubt they would.”
“No, but I do.”
“Okay.” Gerald sighed and, after a moment sat beside the would-be burial site, motioning for her to do the same. “Okay,” he repeated.
Johanna stood in place for a few moments before sitting down as well. The open hole in the ground between them.
“We should go to Newhaven,” Gerald offered. “Get you a tattoo, if you still want one.”
Jo merely scoffed at first. Only after Gerald thought he might not get an answer did she speak up. “I hate Newhaven.”
“I’ll find someone in Blackpond then.”
“I don’t know what,” she mumbled.
Silence. Sullen but comfortable. Gerald leaned back against the tree bark, closing his eyes as the glare of sunlight struck him through a gap in the canopy.
“What does it stand for? Yours” Jo asked. And for a moment Gerald wasn’t sure of what she meant until he recalled they’d been talking about tattoos.
“It’s the sigil of the White Knights,” he said, shrugging. “I may not have left on the best of terms, but it’s still what I remember my mother by.
“What does it stand for?” Jo repeated.
Gerald pondered the question more seriously, he hadn’t thought about such things in a very long time. “Well, justice I guess. Sun and Moon both represent justice, in their own ways. Two sides of the same coin and all of that. Sun represents lawful justice, you know; the many over the few. Moon represents righteous justice. The individual, case to case basis, type of justice.”
“The Night Sister,” Jo mumbled. “Moon.”
“Matron of thieves, spies, and all who walk in the shadows. Yes, I know,” Gerald said, unable to hold back the exhausted grumble of someone who’d had such notions force fed into them since they were young.
“How is it justice?”
“If you take to survive from those who can live without, it’s considered a form of justice in Her eyes.”
“...Your Goddess allows it, but your laws don’t?”
Gerald chuckled. “Yeah. Pretty much. Newhaven tries to walk a line between what’s considered lawful and what’s right but in my opinion it just fails at both those things spectacularly. It has its qualities, but nonetheless... I don’t miss that aspect.”
“I hated it,” Jo mumbled. “Always hated it. Leaving was supposed to...” She trailed off, fingers once again toying with the chain around her neck. “Clean slate,” she muttered. “New life.” Her fingers found the clasp on the chain and pried it open with a bitter scoff. “Ashes. Rubble. Scars.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Don’t.” She drew a deep breath as the chain came loose and the pair of rings that hung from it fell into the palm of her hand. “Where would you be, right?”
Gerald chuckled. “I don’t know. Never thought about it, but... I figure it might have been a fair trade.”
“Shut up.”
“Johanna, just because misery likes company it doesn’t make it less miserable,” he argued.
That was the wrong thing to say. Gerald immediately felt it in the way the atmosphere around them shifted. With a heavy sigh to match the heavy air, he opened his eyes and turned to her, met with an angry, wounded glare.
“I’m sorry. That was far too cold. I am glad that we found one another, I am, but... I don’t think I could ever wish this on you. I’m not that much of a selfish asshole.”
Jo’s gaze softened and she sighed as well, exhaustion and bitterness coating what little of her voice he could hear as she mumbled. “Maybe I am.”
Gerald fell silent, allowing the weight behind that statement to dilute into the quiet before breathing out a response. “That’s okay.”
Jo didn’t answer, feeling the cold metal bands; a broken promise, between her fingertips with a furrowed brow. And there was nothing for him to say, nothing he could say, about a part of her life he had no place in.
“The reason we work, Johanna, you and I—the three of us—is that we understand one another. We’ve always known what this is, and who’d become for making the choices we’ve made. I don’t think it’s wrong to not want to be alone in that. I’m sure Porter would vehemently disagree, but... Well, she doesn’t get to be right about everything, does she?”
Jo chuckled at that, quieter, softer, lighter for once. “She knows. She just won’t admit it.”
“That’s okay too,” Gerald repeated. “If that’s what she needs. We’ll be here either way.”
“I haven’t. I’m sorry,” she muttered.
Gerald shook his head. “You have. You’ve been right here this entire time.”
“It hurt,” Jo admitted, quietly, almost as if to herself.
“I know.”
“It hurts,” she added.
“Yeah, I know.” Gerald watched as she continued toying with the pair of rings in her hands, purposefully looking away from the hole in the dirt. “Are you angry with Her again? Death.”
The question caused Jo to pause in her fiddling, fingers stiffening in her lap. “No. I... I am not finished. No. I waited then. I waited. And I waited...” Her fingers clenched around the rings, then loosened as she forced a breath past her lips. “Her turn to wait now.”
“That doesn’t sound not angry,” Gerald pointed out. “I reckon She might just be too scared to take you now.”
Jo scoffed, but the trace of a smirk tugged at the corner of her lips. “Doubt it.”
They once again fell into silence, and as it lingered, Gerald could feel Johanna’s frustration building as she toyed with the metal bands between her fingers. Her expression gradually shifted from calm and slightly amused to a severe frown, as though internally berating herself for her inaction. Unsure of how else to help, he offered the only thing he could in that moment and wordlessly held out his open palm.
Jo startled and tensed with the movement, almost as though she’d gotten so deep into her own head she momentarily forgot he was sitting beside her. Her gaze lowered to his open palm, then met his eyes. Gerald merely kept his hand outstretched, even after her gaze hardened and her fist clenched tighter around the rings as though he’d attempted to swipe them from her. He’d expected her to refuse, he knew it might not even be his place to offer, but he still wanted her to know that his help was there if she wanted it. To his surprise, after what felt like an eternity, Jo placed the rings on his hand, and though she hesitated still, eventually let go of them.
Gerald kept his hand where it was, hovering above the opened soil. “You tell me when it’s time,” he said.
Jo nodded, silently leaning back against the trunk of the tree with a tired groan. “My...” she mumbled, almost too soft to hear, then trailed off into silence as though questioning what she was about to say. With a soft huff, she pointedly looked away from the rings and pressed on. “My former gang,” she muttered.
Gerald hummed, questioningly. “What of them?”
“Found them tracking us. I... Hmph... Alton wanted to wait, but I...” She shook her head. “Lured them out. Killed them all. I was reckless so we had to...” She finished her sentence by making a slight shooing gesture with her hand.
“You had to flee the city.”
Jo nodded, her expression twisting into a scowl. “I was reckless,” she repeated.
“What happened wasn’t your fault, Johanna.”
“Now,” she muttered. “I was reckless now.”
“That wasn’t...” Gerald started, but trailed off into a sigh. Even if he wanted to lie she wouldn’t believe him. “No one else was hurt.”
“Not true.”
“No one else was fatally wounded,” Gerald corrected. “And yes, it was reckless. And we were angry, but we’ve all been reckless at one point or another. You’ve more than suffered the consequences, there’s no need to punish yourself any further. Do you understand?”
“Not easy,” Jo mumbled.
“The only easy thing in this life is death.” Gerald said, and it immediately earned him a dismissive scoff.
“Not even that,” she replied.
Despite the bleakness of the statement—or perhaps because of it—Gerald found himself unable to hold back a bout of laughter. After a moment, Johanna joined him with a loud snort and a stream of teary chuckles. He wished he could tell her they’d be fine in the aftermath of this, but it would only be another meaningless platitude. The best they could do was laugh at the bitter irony and hope to make the best out of their borrowed time. That was all. It had always been all.
From the corner of his eye, he caught Jo reaching for her throat, where the silver chain once rested. Her fingers caught on the fine golden necklace that held his mother’s pendant instead. Gerald almost instinctively reached for his own neck, remembering it was no longer there. She’d not offered it back, he hadn’t asked, and as her laughter trailed off into a sigh of resignation, he saw no reason to. It was no replacement for what she’d chosen to relinquish; could never carry that same promise. But if it at least brought comfort, then it was hers to keep.
They sat in silence for another moment still while Johanna steeled herself, then with a stiff nod, she told him, “now”. Without hesitation, Gerald let the rings fall into their resting place, and as soon as they did, Jo got to work covering it up as seamlessly as she could. When it was done, she remained silently crouched in front of the buried remains of her past for yet another minute, then stood and held out her hand.
“Help me with breakfast?”
Gerald took the offered hand and allowed Johanna to pull him up, even though it took her entire body weight to do so. “Do you not want it to be edible?”
Jo scoffed as she began to tug him along. “Tea?”
Gerald nodded, allowing himself to be led back to the Outpost, despite the fact he’d been initially going in the opposite direction. “Sure. I’ll make tea.”