What?


If he hadn't been holding on to a rope and long handle of wood, he might have fallen off. Not in the comical surprised way, but the Jump Back way. Eyes widened as he replayed the last few seconds over. And over. Yes, that's what she'd said. It didn't rhyme with, or sound like, any other word. At least, that came immediately to mind. Even if he could think of one? Those tears, pretty sure those are tear, look again, those tears confirmed it.


Tears?


"What?"


She'd said it. He'd heard it. But the question that was almost a statement slipped out before he could snap his slack mouth closed. Movies are full of these moments, right? Hundreds of reactions to draw from. To mimic. Say. Something.


What?


It was too much to process. Overload. Like playing a game, then suddenly finding out that there were stakes. It wasn't a game. He didn't think We was a game. But? It was a game of two. For two. Wasn't it? They still lived in their own rooms. They still didn't even talk about where they were going. This wasn't Figuring It Out. This was sudden and immediate. The immediate question of When and How were discarded. Inane. Products of something else. Fear. Uncertainty. You think you know. What those are. What those words mean. But you don't. Not really.


"Why..." The next word tumbled out, breathy from a tight throat. The same tightness that gripped his chest. It wasn't just Fear and Uncertainty. Seeping through those were pain. If you care enough about someone, it doesn't matter Why. When they cry, it hurts. It's a Call to Action. To make whatever it is, go away. To fix it. To make the Tears go away.


Unless they're not tears of pain.


"Why are you... crying?"


Maybe, with her context, the maelstrom of confusion that made it impossible for him to assimilate the information would calm. So he could find His Truth. About... this. She'd known longer, right?




"Because," she explained, words sounding softly against the noise of the sea and the sail. "Now I'm going to have to kill it." A convulsive sniff tore her gaze away, and her hands reared up to brush the tears away, even as she choked back more. Her jaw trembled once, but her voice came out steadier, and louder than before even if a rasp clung to each word.

"I mean, what else can I do? I...I can't keep it. I can't give it what it would need and I can't let it suffer, either. And I can't let it die once it's...once it's not an it," she tried to explain, forcing herself to meet his gaze again.


The words felt so small coming out of her mouth, so insubstantial. In her heart, she knew it wasn't just panic, or nerves guiding her decision, or her logic. It was the pain of Truth. There was no other way. This was a time when evil had to be done. When murder would end a life of pain and tragedy before it began. To save the world from one more cry of anguish and despair, either from mistreatment of neglect. It was also the last chance to preserve the life she'd just built, to preserve the purpose which she'd embraced, except, the thing was, her life had now been irrevocably changed. A boundary had been crossed, but this wasn't one she could ever step back over. She'd fallen off of a cliff and there was no way back up. Not with shattered knees. No, she'd accepted that truth. She wasn't dumb enough, or delusional enough, to think her world could be preserved with this death, this sacrifice, but one question did still lurk in her mind: would Star still be with her afterward or would this be their last trip? The last memory of his smile in the sun.




Going. To. Have. To.


You reap what you sow.


Hearing an echo of what he'd said to Omar? He might throw up. Karma? No. Just coincidence. Focus. Listen. The tiny craft lurched as it hit a wave, it's captain occupied. Leaden hands let the rope slip free, loosing the sail to luff harmlessly in the wind as they slowed and and rocked in time with the pulse of the sea.


Hands came up, covering his face. Could they? Should they? She's a Scarred Arrow, He's an Illusionist Guardian, Together They... Raise a Child? Not so much. Ten minutes ago, he would have laughed at the thought. But that was then, this is now. Surprise. Like finding out S.E. Hinton was a woman. No, not like that, at all.


They knew where they were. Not where they were going. And, suddenly, that question was asked. Would they ever? Were they going to...? But, here's the thing. Two things. Now wasn't the time. She'd made the call. And him? Given where he'd gone to school, he knew a lot more about pregnancies and kids and mothers than most. True story. Would there ever be 'the time'?


When the hands slid down from his face, they trailed salty tracks of his own tears. His throat ached. "It, ahhhh." A sharp inhale scraped over a raw throat. "It hurts. Because it's... part of us? Something we did. But it's the right thing."


Part of him wanted to argue, to say they could make it work. She could be a soccer mom with an SUV and Pottery Barn catalog and he could be, well, something. And they'd go to soccer games and school plays, and We would be Three and they could teach and protect their third. But those weren't the roles they had been cast in. She was an Arrow. He was a Guardian. Most likely? They'd both die young, and probably violent, ugly deaths. Arms crossed. Funny how he'd said that every thing you think of might have been already thought of. Which meant that she'd probably gone down all the paths to make her decision -- the same ones he had gone down, and was still going down. Random thoughts kept popping into his head. What name? Boy? Girl?


"I'm really scared." The words spilled out as eyes focused on hers. "I... I'm really scared this is going to change everything? Like, this is going to be what defines us, and it's going to be what we think about when we talk or look at each other... until we just can't stand it anymore." The mop shook, and eyes fell. "I'm sorry that's so selfish I'm really sorry."

"How... uh. Uh. Do you want me to go with you?"




Star wasn't wrong, about treading the same mental paths that she'd been down. That road of possibilities, of potential futures, of solutions for all the problems they'd faced, that was something she'd been going down for hundreds of hours, now. That was all she'd been thinking about. Dreaming about. That was why she'd been so distant. She hadn't had room to think about almost anything else, even when she split her mind. In fact, she'd done that a lot, to help her process faster, to run through scenarios from two perspectives, but it hadn't changed her conclusions. Just the logistics of it didn't work. She barely had enough time to properly feed herself, what, between work, training, and duty to the Consilium, not to mention the bit of socializing she tried to do just to keep sane. Maybe with the whole cabal pitching in they could make that part of it work, but the theater wasn't a safe place. It had been broken into, an enemy of theirs knew where they lived, and what their weaknesses were, but even if they didn't, how hard would it be to find out? How hard would it be to find out she had a kid? Images of a bloody nursery, a demonic teddy bear, and a laughing Scelesti with dead eyes and a horrid, blackened, lolling tongue popped into her mind. They wouldn't even be able to protect the child, and what would she do if their enemies extorted it? Used it like a hostage? Would she be able to resist? Maybe, but even if she did, that failure would be worse than she could handle. To fail her family again...No. It just couldn't be done.


That is, not unless they dropped off the grid. Left Sacramento. Focused just on raising it. And, frankly, that wasn't going to happen. She'd built her life around a purpose here, a purpose that was sometimes the only thing that kept her together. Kept her moving. Duty was what gave her strength. It was what forced her not to submit, no matter how broken or fragile she felt. To suddenly abandon that now? No, she couldn't do it. That would crush what little bit of goodness was left in her, leaving nothing to give, nothing to share with anyone, let alone a child. Like, maybe...maybe she could find a new purpose in raising the child, but that would require a dedication to lies she didn't believe in, to a focus on everything which had led to the death of her parents and to what had happened to her. No, she couldn't do that. She couldn't face living like that again. Being with Star, that was hard enough, but there was a strength which was lent from him. Support which a dependent, selfish, Lie obsessed thing couldn't give. That didn't mean it was deserving of death. That it was right to kill it. No, it wasn't, but that didn't change the necessity of it. Didn't change the fact that it was what had to happen.


Then, when hearing that Star accepted that reality and that he was still...talking to her? Talking of being with her? Combined with the rocking of the boat, which had begun to feel like a giant cradle, that fact was almost enough to crumple Avis' composure and banish thought into an oblivion of tears, but that was a kind of ego death which she would not give in to. Not here. Not with what they were discussing. If she was going to do this, to kill this child, she would do it unblinking. It was her choice. Her action. To wallow in pain, to ignore her part in it, that was to embrace Illusion and Lies, and it was for the very purpose of resisting those evils that she was making this sacrifice.


So she bit back the tears, literally imagining an iron trap closing it's jaws behind her eyes, but she reached out to clasp Star's hand all the same. There was still Strength in We, a Strength she wanted now.


"I love you, Star," she said, her gaze grasping at his. "I'm sorry I fucked everything up, that I let this happen, but it's not going to change what I feel. Maybe something, someday, will fuck everything up, but it's not this. Not for me."




Her eyes or his? Her brown hair with his curls, or...?


They wouldn't stop. The Questions. And it only underscored the thoughts he was trying to formulate. Was what she said True? There was no doubt she believed it. She wouldn't Lie to him. But you never know. You never know what thoughts take root, and slowly poison everything else. Like the Questions. Would they stop?


He squeezed the hand that had grasped his, lifting it and lowering his head at the same time until they met. The raised, rough edges of scars pressed against his cheek. Scars he loved. Scars that a child would question. Questions they could never answer. For a moment, he let go of conscious thought, feeling the press of their skin together, completely aware of the irony that what he took comfort in was the cause. The mop slowly raised until their eyes met again.


"You didn't do anything. Whatever happened... we did it together." He couldn't smile. Not yet. But he could nod, and reassure. "And, we'll... see it through. Together. Whatever happens, we'll do it together." The grip on his chest slowly loosened as her words affirmed their Blue. Maybe she was right. Maybe they were strong enough. Loved enough.

"Not for me, either, then." He'd laugh, in another time, and another place, if he knew she drew strength from him. She was the strong one.


"I love you, Avis."


He echoed her, not to parrot her, or out of any sense of obligation for the moment, but just because he did.


Their boat rocked against the thrust of the waves, the mass of the ocean pulling them inexorably back to land. Wind lashed at the slack sail, and slowly, amidst the buck and spray of the sea, Avis moved closer to Star, freeing her hand so she could wrap her arms around him. Lank hair pressed down the fluff of curls and breath mixed between them as the breath of gulls echoed into the sky and the warm touch of the sun alighted upon them. Eventually she would have to let go, would have to release him so they could sail to safer waters, or gently glide back to the embrace of the harbor, and she would let go when the time came, but not before.


Not before.