For entertainment and posterity only. Not in continuity.


What If...
...Avis Had Said 'No'?
subtitled "We Belong"


"We're going to do great things, you and I."

...
No weirdness. That's what he'd said. And maybe even meant it. Nobody's an Acanthus, predicting the future. There's just sincerity, and sometimes you're sincerely putting yourself Out There and you get rejected. It's okay; it happens, everyone's an adult.

But it was weird.

Little things. No more Card. Or Firehouse. Avoiding being alone together, over-sanitized words that could only be lumped together as conversation in the most charitable light. Walls that everyone throws up, intentional or not, brick by by brick until a wall is a castle and no one remembers what's being protected anymore. But every now and then castles get sieged and every time He came over, the walls shook. At least Zoey had been cool. An apology, commiseration, and a smoke sesh and everything was back to normal. Normal as in Okay and Okay as in it's perfectly Okay that He moved in and perfectly Okay that sometimes you can hear through walls.

It's Okay.

Maybe that was why, or maybe it wasn't. Because Smiley's People. Maybe it was remembering the Trees Per Capita; the Why. Cards were written on and cards were burned -- the only cards being traded now. That's the cure for anything -- throwing yourself into your work. Really, any distraction. A distraction becomes a habit, and a habit becomes a lifestyle. True story.

And someone had to.

Work. The easiest way to convince someone else you're Real is to convince yourself first. Good-bye Four Walls. Good-bye Veiled Threats. Hello haircut. Hello tattooes and piercings (ow). I am Jack's Banisher Campus Life. Pledging into Banisher U hadn't been difficult. A twist of rez, a drop of glitter, a few excerpts of Philo 101 required reading and Beowulf. Except for checking in with Zoey --until Zoey left-- there was only Jack.

You don't know Jack.

He was In by the time the news hit the street. Someone had died; someone big, maybe even one of the Consilium's Masters. There was going to be a wake, or something, down by the river. How corny is that, yo? Here's the plan. When everyone's boo-hoo'ing? Attack. Smile and nod, the Plan is the Plan. No revolution ever happened without some injustice. If someone had to get hurt to climb another rung to Euryale, then that's what had to happen. It's The Greater Good. Justice is blind and holds a scale for reason. She doesn't want to know what you did, she just wants to measure the final outcome. Right?


"No plan of operations extends with any certainty beyond the first contact with the main hostile force." -- Moltke the Elder.

They'd hit hard and fast and sky was alive with rez, lights, and sound. He'd blown up some wannabe Katniss Everdeen's bow, thrown some fire, sliced some weaves, and gotten Dirty enough to be wracked with, and doubled over, from back pain. Stumbling through the woods when it happened. A portal opening, right in front of him. Fire, pure and white, the Angel's birthright, speared though it as Katniss came through with a snarl and pointy-sharp shard of bow. A clean hit, a righteous kill.

Almost.

He straddled the burnt husk that was gasping a stream of curse words that would make a sailor blush, driving what was left of lank, sable hair into the mud and feeling burnt skin pull and tear away from the neck he was choking.
...


"We're going to do great things, you and I." A whisper, raspy from the exertion. Hey. Choking someone, even when they'e Mostly Dead (tm), isn't easy. "Whoever you are, just know that you're helping me. Kill. Euryale." Eventually. But it was True. Up the ladder, another rung. Killing an Awakened, even just one, is solid street cred, yo.

It was the eyes.

Fire had burnt the lids off, and moonlight glistened on a pale green that reminded him of the everglades. It wasn't his fault he hadn't recognized her. What happened to the hoodie?

But that was then, and this is now.

"It's gonna be okay." She'd stopped thrashing. His side hurt, and the bloodied remains of her bow stuck out at an awkward angle. Fen waters were still; glassy, and frozen. Could she hear him? Maybe. Maybe not. "You're a warrior. It's a good death. And I'm your Angel."

Everything happens for a reason. Every ending is a beginning.

This is exactly how We were meant to be.

Right, Avis?



I hear your voice inside me, I see your face everywhere
We belong to the light, we belong to the thunder
- "We Belong", Pat Benatar

Notes