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Chapter Text

Lucretia was panicking.

Logically, she knew this. She knew that she was stewing in her emotions and that she was hurling herself further along the spiral of self-loathing she had been trying to keep out of for so long. Logically, she knew she needed to get out of her office, talk to someone, eat something, anything to get her mind off of the atrocities she committed with the bureau and before.

Lucretia, however, was not thinking logically. She was thinking emotionally, and in her emotional state, the best course of action was to sit and re-read all of her backup journals chronologically and revise them to be a biographical series on the lives of the IPRE crew (sans herself, of course. She was just the chronicler, after all). She was currently sometime around halfway through cycle 57 (a particularly rough cycle that ended in over half the crew dead and no light of creation) and her hands were shaking so hard that her penmanship was barely legible anymore.

She sighed a heavy breath and stretched her back, the disks popping and cracking in ways that were probably not healthy for a woman her age, but she merely grimaced and went back to work, taking care to focus on the letters as she was writing them, hoping the disassociation from the words as a whole would help her trembling. When that didn’t work, she focused on the planets rather than the people. She wrote about the flora they found there. She wrote about the large, fan-like leaves and vibrant flowers, the thick ivy and prickly trees. She wrote about a dark blue flower named for its pigmented pollen, which was used as a natural dye by the locals. She wrote about warm-scented roots that were steeped in hot water to sooth stomach pains.

She did not write about the sharp-edged red leaves that released a deadly neurotoxin upon contact with the bloodstream, nor how Merle had accidentally poked himself on them. She did not write about how Barry hadn’t managed to get his body back to camp before the wildlife got to him. She did not write about how Barry nearly lost his arm protecting them from the hyena-like creatures that tore into their friend’s corpse with beaks instead of teeth, she did not write about how Lup went back for them even though she knew they would be back in a matter of weeks, she did not write about Lup’s look of horror as she voiced this fact, She did not write about Lup’s understanding look when they got wove back together with white thread on the Starblaster, she did not write about how she saw that look on Taako when he met her at the bureau, she did not write about how she wished the twins looked even more identical if for nothing else than to pretend that everything was fine again—

She barely got to her waste basket before heaving her stomach contents into it, though it consisted only of bile. She wiped her mouth and sighed or sobbed or some mix of the two and settled back down at her desk. In front of her she had her stone of farspeech, half buried under her papers, and for half a moment she considered calling Lup, hysterically thinking that she can’t be sure she’s alright if she doesn’t call. Lucretia doesn’t call, though, just as she hadn’t for the past 5 months since the hunger was defeated, and just as she won’t until she can atone for what she had done.

Atonement, though, seemed a lot easier in theory. Ideally, there would be a way for her to apologize, right what was wronged, and never do it again. She had steps one and three down, that she was sure, but it was righting the wrong that seemed insurmountable. She couldn’t very well go back ten years and undo feeding her journals to the Voidfish (though she wanted to, Pan knows she wanted to), and it wasn’t like a batch of cookies would make up for the decade of trauma she put them through. Honestly, the best she could do is disappear and stop forcing everyone to endure her existence.

She paused at that, stopping the frantic clawing at her arms that she wasn’t aware she was doing until she stopped. She was down a dangerous path of thought, and her logical half was screaming at her to call someone before it got worse, call Magnus or Merle or Lup. Even Davenport or Barry could help her out of this sudden episode she found herself in.

She called Taako.

Lucretia held her breath as the stone connected and waited for him to pick up.

“Yeah?” Taako’s voice was lazy and sleepy, and Lucretia vaguely realized she didn’t have any windows in her room nor a healthy sleep schedule, and she may have woken him in the middle of the night. Listening closer, though, she heard the soft rustle of a page being turned and the soft sound of music, as well as other background noise that she couldn’t place. She just listened for a bit, to the slow tune of the song, to the idle flipping of pages, to Taako’s steady breathing.

“Hello? Still there?” Taako responded when Lucretia hadn’t answered for a while. There was a soft thunk on the other end. “Seriously, who is this?” His voice was soft and kind and she knew as soon as she knew it was her it wouldn’t be. She knew she didn’t deserve that.

“Taako, it’s Lucretia,” She rasped, far meeker than she intended. She cleared her throat, still burning from the bile she threw up earlier, and hoped that Taako hadn’t caught it.

“You sound like shit.” His voice was sharp and cold suddenly, and she could practically hear him sitting up straighter.

“I, uh, I have a favor to ask of you.” She wet her lips, trying desperately to sound more in control of her situation than she actually was.

“You want a favor.” It was not a question, though it was spoken with such an incredulous tone that Lucretia was half tempted to just hang up. Before she had a chance, though, Taako’s voice came back through the stone “You want me, the person who you stole everything from and the person you are personally responsible for fucking up in ways you cannot even fathom, to drop what I’m doing and come do something for you, because…?”

“Tell me you hate me.” She didn’t know why those were the words out of her mouth, but there they were, hanging in the air and she couldn’t take them back.

Taako had the audacity to laugh “Why, for your sake or mine? Believe it or not, I don’t depend on you as some sort of verbal punching bag. I tell you I hate you when I damn well feel like it.”

“Just… Please. I’ll never bother you again, just give me a reason.” Lucretia half realized she had no plan, no way to go through with what she was insinuating, but she could find a way. She had before.

“A reason to what?”

To someone who did not know Taako, he sounded genuinely confused, sweet words and lilting accent. To her, though, she heard the challenge, the subtle venom and sharp wit, like a cat teasing it’s pray.

“I… I’m sorry. Let Lup know-”

“Tell her yourself”

The words held a tone of finality, but he hadn’t hung up. Lucretia put her forearm across her eyes and sighed. For a moment she sat there, listening to his end of the call. The music was gone and instead there was a soft rustle of wind across the stone. Taako’s breathing was less smooth than it was before, and there was the clear sound of feet against stone.

“How’s Kravits?” She asked softly, removing her arm from her face and using it to run her nails across her arm.

“Why, you want to take him away from me, too?” There was inflection of a question, the tone of a joke, and the spite of someone with no one left to lose

“Quite the opposite,” she responded wistfully, this verbal game of chess far more draining than she thought it would be.

“Reapers only go after those who committed crimes against the Raven Queen.”

She could nearly hear him roll his eyes. “Are you saying I haven’t committed enough inter-planar atrocities?”

“Alright, Luce, unless you’re about to recite some sort of suicide note to me, I’d rather get back to my book and ignore your existence.”

“I don’t have one to recite, but I’m sure I can write one up.” She huffed a laugh, thinking this is as close to closure as she’ll get with him. “You want to be in the ‘special thanks’ section, or the ‘contributing authors’.”

“Don’t mention me in your shitty ass note.” And he hung up.

Well, Lucretia had some writing to do.

Chapter Text

Nearly the moment he hung up, Taako felt guilty. Not because he cared about Lucretia, no, absolutely not. He just didn’t like how he ended the conversation. It wasn’t as eloquent as he could be. Yeah, that was it.

He continued his walking towards Lup’s room, which he started while still on the stone with Luce, totally not so that his sister could talk to her and help her out of whatever funk she was currently in. Because he didn’t care. Sighing, he knocked on the door. “Yo Lup, I think I fucked up a little bit,” he called.

The door opened , Lup flicking her wrist to grant him entrance from where she was lazily sprawled across her bed, with Barry snuggled next to her as they were reading. Barry gave a sheepish smile and a wave.

“What’d you do this time, nerd?” She asked with a smile, handing the book off to her boyfriend.

“I may have just told Luce to kill herself?” He flopped into a plush chair next to the bookshelf, drawing his knees up to his chest.

Immediately, Lup sat up, crossing her legs in front of her, and narrowed her eyes at him. “Taako…” she had a warning tone, but Taako waved her away.

“I didn’t, like, just call her up and just start yelling, I’m passed that. She called me and asked for a favor and I told her ‘what the fuck, no’ and she asked me to tell her I hate her and I said, quote ‘I tell you I hate you when I damn well feel like it’ and then she started to say to tell you something but I cut her off and long story short I told her to write a note and kill herself, I think.” He retained a lackadaisical way of speaking, but Lup could see the underlining panic, the frantic look he gave the room and methodical picking of his cuticles.

“You think?” She folded her hands in her lap and waited patiently for him to continue, against her better judgement of running off to see if Lucretia was alright. Her brother came first, after all.

“Yeah, I mean, she said she just needed a reason, and I said that if she was going to recite a note I was going to hang up or something, and she said that she didn’t have a note but could write one and asked if I wanted to be in the special thanks portion and then I said I didn’t want to be mentioned in her shitty note and hung up and then I came here and I thought that she totally deserved everything I said to her, but I still feel bad about it.”

And, whomp, there it is. Because it’s true, he felt bad. He felt worse than bad, actually, because Lucretia was once like a sister to her and now here he was, talking to his actual sister, the one he lost for over a decade, and he was telling her that he just told one of their closest friends to kill herself, albeit indirectly. And his worry for her almost overpowered the sting of what she had put him through. “I fucked up,” he reiterated.

Lup inhaled deeply through her nose. “Well,” she sighed out, “you could call her back.” Taako was already shaking his head before the words finished leaving her mouth. She revised, “Or I could call her?”

And it was pathetic, sure, forcing his sister to fix his mistake. It was pathetic that he couldn’t even find himself the bigger person to comfort her after he hurt her because some sick part of him was glad she was hurting as much as he had. It was pathetic that he hung up in the first place, so proud as to always have to get the last word.

“You want Barry to leave?” She asked cautiously, seeing the subtle rocking back and forth that Taako was doing as he escalated from picking at his hands to worrying his thumb nail between his teeth. He cautiously nodded, giving a small glance towards Barry. He didn’t seem offended, giving a smile and a kiss to Lup’s cheek before hurrying out of the room.

“Do you want me to call her?” She asked carefully. Taako shook his head again, still chewing at his nails.

“Do you want me to call Kravitz to calm you down?” She asked, just as slow as last time.

“No,” Taako replied, shakily. “I just… She deserved it, right?”

“Oh Taako,” Lup got up and hugged her brother, nearly sitting in his lap, despite the fact his legs were still drawn to his chest, “It’s complicated. She did some bad things, and you don’t have to forgive her. But being angry and being cruel are two different things, pumpkin.”

“Cruelty is just how Taako is,” He said with a forced laugh.

“No, it’s not,” Lup responded, and she was right, of course, but Taako didn’t want to hear that. He didn’t want rationality he wanted validation, and he wasn’t about to get that.

“Just… Call her, I guess.” He looked away, going back to picking at his nails as opposed to biting them.

“Do you want to be here with me?” She asked, giving him a gentle squeeze. He nodded hesitantly.

Lup got up, but just to retrieve her stone of farspeech from off of the table, perching on the foot of the bed next to Taako after she retrieved it. She gave Taako a reassuring smile and set the stone to Lucretia’s frequency. There was a small arcane buzzing is it connected, then a click signifying that Luce’s stone was indeed projecting her message.

“Luce, babe? It’s me, Lup.”

Lucretia would like to say she threw everything off her desk and set to work writing immediately. Instead, she gathered the journals and placed them back on her shelves, one by one, in chronological order. She would like to say that she didn’t know where to start and that her hands that had written her through all those years finally failed her. Instead she knew just where to start. She had done this once before after all. She pulled the old note out of the last journal she wrote.

To my family,

I suppose that title is a bit of a stretch for some, and I apologize, but to me you all were more than coworkers, more than friends. I hoped that I might be considered more to some of you, but perhaps it is best if I stayed a coworker to you. It makes this part easier.

I’ll start by saying that this is the fault of no one, regardless of who might think they drove me to this. There were no warning signs for you to see, no words you could have said to make this decision not my own. No words you could have said to dissuade me. This is my choice, and it’s the best one for me to make.

I’m sorry for the suffering this may cause you. Believe me, I have thought over the different options for a long time, far too long of a time to be healthy, and this is the best chance you all have. I’m sorry it has to be this way. I regret my actions, no matter how premeditated they are.

You won’t remember me once this plan is put into action, and I’m glad about that, however morose it may be. Perhaps one day, if we ever meet again, we can start anew. I think I would like that.

--Lucretia

Lucretia looked down at the note. She wrote it a long, long time ago, before the Bureau of Balance, before Wonderland took what it willed from her. Just before the journals were fed to the Voidfish. Funny, how such words were written without a way to comfort who they were for. She could almost rationalize it at the time: If she sent the note out before she erased their memories they would all have warning. But she did not. She just fed her notes to the Voidfish and held on to this note like a lifeline, like it was proof that she had the best intentions at heart, no matter what happened. The ends justified the means, after all.

They always do.

Chapter Text

To Whom It Concerns,

I’m sorry. I know I said it too many times in life, but it seems fitting for those to be my first words to you after my death. I’m sorry I destroyed your lives for my own selfish reasons. I’m sorry I did not heed your warnings on what breaking the bonds of this plane may do. I’m sorry.

There are some things in life that are irreparable, and I’m convinced that my relationships with those I love are among them. I am not blaming anyone but myself for this, it is merely an observation. No one drove me to this, so don’t blame one another or look for a scapegoat for your grief, if you feel grief. I hope that you all are happier without me here, truly, and that you move on. You forgot me once, after all. It shouldn’t be too hard to forget me again.

Magnus, I’m sorry for the pain I caused you. I’m sorry you will never remember who was responsible for the fall of Raven’s Roost. I’m sorry for what happened to Julia all those years ago. I’m sorry I put you in that situation, and I’m sorry it was ripped from you so violently. It was not my intent, but intent only means so much. It’s the end that matters, I suppose. I should have learned that sooner.

Merle, I’m sorry for the confusion I caused you. I’m sorry for leaving you abandoned on a beach with only the clothes on your back and your name on your tongue. I’m sorry that you felt unworthy as a husband and unfit as a father. I’m sure you know your worth now, but having the things that once made you great ripped from you all at once is stifling in a way words cannot describe. I see that now.

Davenport, I’m sorry for the loss I caused you. I’m sorry that I somehow became validated my own beliefs that your memories were worth the price of this world. I’m sorry that I didn’t inoculate you after seeing what I had done to you. I’m sorry I forced you to be a wordless ward as I was scrubbing my own mess from the world. I know now that you would have helped, at one point. You would have cared for me, helped me. Trusted me. I’m sorry I broke that trust. It will not happen again.

Barry, I’m sorry for the frustration I caused you. I’m sorry I forced you into tracking down  into fighting this fight on your own. I’m sorry you alone were tasked with finding those who once were close to you. I’m sorry you had to struggle to win back the trust of those who don’t know who you are. I’m sorry I caused you to go through that. I’m sure it’s an empty reassurance, but I know how it feels. But you have me to blame, and I’m honestly glad for that. It’s shouldering the blame that is so much harder. But I will shoulder it for you, as I always have and always will. I owe that much to you, at least.

Lup, I’m sorry. I’m sorry for everything. I’m sorry I didn’t realize it was you in that umbrella, I’m sorry I didn’t look harder for you, I’m sorry I forced Taako out of searching in the worst way possible. They would have found you, I like to think, if I just gave it a few more days. A few more days and Taako would have had the sister he deserved and Barry wouldn’t have been alone and the three of you could have opened a bakery in Neverwinter. I’m sorry that never happened. I’m sorry. I’m so fucking sorry.

Taako, I would say I’m sorry, but I know you don’t want to hear it. So instead: you were right. You were right when you said there was another way and I was just blind to it. You were right when you said I was responsible for taking everything from you. You were right when you said that all of this, all of what happened to you all, all of that is my fault. You were right. And I know there’s no fixing what I have done, but I hope you see this as the first step in repentance. I know you said not to mention you in this, but it felt disrespectful. Burn this part out if you feel it necessary, but I wanted you to know I still trust you, still care for you. I have made a lot of mistakes, Taako, but thinking of you as family was not one of them. I’m sorry that’s not the case for me.

I know that the Bureau of Benevolence will not run itself in my absence, so I leave it to you to name a new Director of the bureau, should you choose to accept. If not, dissolve it and use the resources as you all see fit. You’re all kind people, and I trust you all to do the best with it, despite the fact I couldn’t.

I feel like a thank you is in order, perhaps for sitting through this far too long winded letter, perhaps for baring with me these past months, I’m not sure. But thank you. Of all the ways to go, trust me when I say this is not the most painful. In truth, I’m glad my work here is done. I’m very tired.

Do not give me a memorial, don’t bother with a funeral if you don’t like. I don’t have anyone here that would grieve me, regardless. I wish to go quietly.

I wish to go home.

--Lucretia

Standing, Lucretia reread over her work. She set it down to allow the ink to dry, gathering up the failed copies into her arms to throw into the waste bucket on her way out. Exiting her office, she began the trek to the launch area of the base.

“Yo, Director, what’s up?” Avi asked when she arrived, stopping what he was doing on the launch panel.

“Just have an errand to run that I forgot about. Set a course for Neverwinter?” She asked, boarding one of the orbs.

“Sure thing. Be safe, yeah?” He said with a salute. That was all she saw before the door closed and she was put on course for the city. Avi looked worried, which said a lot about how she must look. Flattening out her wrinkled clothes and running her hands through her hair, she made sure she was at least presentable before exiting the orb. She landed in town, as they didn’t need to hide their entrance any more, and she made the quick walk to the apothecary. Opening the door, the clerk looked awestruck.

“Madam Director! It’s an honor! What can I get our favorite world-saver?” She smiled warmly, ready to grab whatever Lucretia asked for.

Lucretia wanted to say that it’s far less of an honor than she thought it was, and that there are at least eight other ‘world-saver’s that deserve the title of ‘favorite’, but instead she says “Do you have any hemlock?”

The clerk wrinkled her nose “That’s some nasty stuff. I think we have belladonna and snakeroot, but no hemlock. Why?”

“Research. Sheep are seemingly immune, so I was hoping to reverse engineer that find a suitable resistance potion for humanoids.” The lie slid past her lips easily. Hemlock was the best option, but belladonna had promise. Snakeroot took too long, she had hoped to be gone by this evening. “Perhaps some belladonna instead?”

“What a noble thing to do! I know rabbits are immune to belladonna, so that might be a good starting point while I try to order some hemlock for you. It should only take a few weeks!” the shopkeep was already writing things down, and Lucretia barely had the heart to tell her otherwise.

“Just the belladonna will do, thank you,” there was a pause, as Lucretia tried to think as to why she wouldn’t need the hemlock. “I don’t even know if it will work yet, and I’d hate to waste supplies.”

It was as good a lie as any, and the rest of the transaction went smoothly, Lucretia making her way back to the orb with a bag of belladonna in hand. Belladonna was messier than hemlock, but Lucretia supposed that was the risk she took to get the job done quickly. On the trek home, Lucretia’s stone went off. She hadn’t gotten a call in weeks, and she could only assume who it was. She pressed the mute button, but let it connect regardless.

“Luce, babe? It’s me, Lup.”

Her breath hitched. Landing, she shoved the stone into her dress to muffle the sound as she thanked Avi and nearly sprinted back to her office. Lup shouldn’t be calling, because that means that Taako told her about her call and she’ll know what she’s up to. Taako wouldn’t stop her, but would his sister?

Lucretia all but slammed the door behind her and withdrew the stone from her pockets, the call still muted from her end.

“Look, I know you probably don’t want to talk, but I’m worried about you. Taako is too.”

Lucretia nearly laughed at that, but standing in her messy office with a heavy heart and full hands, she found it hard to laugh at anything. Instead she fell against the wall of her office and stared at the bag in her hand.

“I’m sure you both said things you didn’t mean. How about we all go out for lunch tomorrow? I can drag Magnus along, too. We can talk some things out.”

They didn’t need to talk, they needed action. They needed her gone. Logically, she knew that actions without communication were what got them into this mess in the first place. She hasn’t been thinking logically in a very long time, she thinks. She’s nearly on auto-pilot when she puts down the stone and pours the berries into her cupped palm. The roots would have been preferable, but she was in no place to be picky.

“C’mon, don’t make me come over there. I will and you know it.”

It was said jokingly, but it wrenched Lucretia’s heart with sorrow and terror. She grabbed the stone and unmuted it “No, don’t.” She sounded wrecked, even to her own ears, and it was all she could do to not collapse into tears then.

“Okay, nope, that’s the voice of someone who’s about to make a dumb decision. Taako, take this, I’m getting Barry and going over there,”

She heard Taako refuse, but knowing Lup she was already out the door. “I didn’t mean to make her worried.” She said flatly, looking down at her hand. She had the way out right here, so why was she waiting.

“Then you shouldn’t have acted so worrying-ly. How about that.” Taako said, but his usual vitriol wasn’t there. He sounded as drained as she was.

“I’m sorry.”

“For what.”

“I mentioned you in my note.”

Just before she hung up, three things happened at once.

First, She barely heard Taako say the beginning of a word that sounded suspiciously like “wait”,

Second, she tipped her head back and emptied the berries into her mouth,

And third, she sent a silent prayer to whomever would listen that Lup wouldn’t get here soon.

.

Her last coherent thought was that belladonna is sweeter than she would have thought.

Chapter Text

Something was very wrong. Lup knew that as soon as she passed the stone off to her brother. Running to the kitchen, she saw Barry, who startled when she came into the room. “Everything cool?” he asked, furrowing his brow.

“I need your stone to call Krav. Things are bad,” She said, already reaching for where she knew it was in his pocket. He didn’t struggle, simply put his hands up as she pulled out the stone and dialed into Kravitz’ frequency.

“Hello?” Kravitz’ voice came through quizzical, but he didn’t seem busy.

“You gotta get here now to bring me and the gang to Luce. I think she’s about to do something dumb.”

No sooner than she said that she heard the tearing static sound of a rift through the planes being opened next to her.

“Where’s Taako,” He asked, looking around the room. He was trying to keep calm, she could tell, but there was clear worry in his brow.

“He’s on the stone with-” She was cut off by Taako, still in the other room. She heard him, muffled through the walls, scream ‘wait, no!’, then run out to the kitchen with them. Whatever he was about to say died in his mouth after laying eyes on Kravitz.

“Krav, babe, good to see you, but we gotta go right now,” his eyes were wide and the panic in his voice was clear to everyone. Kravitz nodded, opening another rift, presumably to Lucretia’s office. They ran through, Taako taking Kravitz’ hand.

Lucretia was on the floor. A bag of berries was lying beside her.

Taako felt both like crying and punching a wall.

“Get Merle,” was all Lup said, running over to take Lucretia’s hand, feeling her pulse. Kravitz took that as his que, going back through the rift from where they came.

Taako just stood there, staring at Lucretia. Her face was pale and her eyes were dilated, tremors shaking through her body. She mumbled under her breath, slurring words that were unintelligible to him from his distance. He had seen this before, and knew what happened without laying eyes on the berries. Hesitantly, he walked over to her, sitting down on the other side of Lup.

“…weren’t supposed to be here… dead, I don’t… what…” Lucretia slurred her words, confusion and terror showing on her face.

“Shh, it’s okay, babe, we’re here, it’s okay,” Lup calmly stroked Lucretia’s wrist with her thumb.

Another rift opened, Kravitz re-entering with Merle and Davenport in tow. Davenport froze, taking in the scene in front of him with wide eyes. Merle didn’t waste any time, though, immediately shoving Taako out of the way. “What’s her condition?” he asked, putting one hand to her forehead, taking her wrist with the other.

“Elevated heartrate, dialated pupils, slurred speech, and convulsions. I’m assuming delirium and hallucinations if her expression is anything to go by,” Lup responded clinically, working to help Lucretia into a more comfortable position. Merle swore under his breath. Taako ignored how familiar the scene in front of them was. Last time it was an accident. Last time there was no one there to save anyone. Last time the people were nameless and faceless, in a town he’ll never forget the name of.

This was not that time. He ignored the fact he was the driving factor for both.

“Alright, I’m going to cast Protection from Poison,” Merle said, taking his holy symbol into his hand and laying the other on her chest. Suddenly, a warm yellow glow showered the room, focused on Lucretia. Merle muttered the incantation, his low, gravelly voice a comforting sound.

Lucretia choked for air, like she had been underwater. Slowly, the light faded and the room was quiet, only their breathing filling the silence.

“I-Is she alright?” Davenport asked, far meeker than their fearless captain should have sounded.

“The poison is neutralized, but she still took a pretty heavy hit from whatever was in her system. She needs to rest,” Merle sounded tired, glancing at Taako. ‘Whatever-was-in-her-system’ was Merle sidestepping the issue. Taako was thankful for the little things.

“I, um,” Kravitz spoke up from his place in the corner of the room, or as close to a corner as the round room allowed, “I’ll get Magnus. He can carry her.” And with that, he was gone.

The room was silent for a moment, everyone staring at Lucretia or Taako or a particularly interesting mark on the floor. Another rip in space, and Magnus was there in front of them, Kravitz taking his leave from the situation. Taako was glad, in some weird way, that it was just the 7 of them, now. It felt more like this could be undone.

“So, does anyone know what happened?” Magnus asked, strangely stone-faced. There was a tremor in his voice, and his jaw was hard set. Lup looked to Taako. Magnus caught it.

“What’d you say to her?” He asked. There was no anger, no venom. Just disappointment. Taako felt like crying.

“What, you think this is my fault?” He snarled, bristling at the accusation, “Lucretia decided to be a selfish bitch and bail on the rest of us and I’m the one to blame!?” He was deflecting. He knew that. The others did not.

“No one’s blaming you,” Davenport started, but he was cut off.

“No, actually, I am blaming you,” Magnus yelled, clenching his fists. “What the fuck, Taako! She was your sister!” If anyone saw Taako flinch back, they didn’t bring attention to it.

“Fuck you! I only have one sister and she was locked in a god-damn umbrella for ten fucking years!” Taako screamed back, clutching at his arms. He looked torn between ripping out someone’s throat and ripping out his own.

“Hey, uh, guys,” Barry quietly spoke up from the desk, everyone’s attention snapping to him, “She left a note.”

Lucretia woke up later to a splitting headache, a dry mouth, and the gut feeling that something was terribly, unfathomably wrong. She was in her bed, tucked in between the sheets, and she could smell tea from outside her room. Moreover, though, she heard yelling. Sighing, she took it to herself to investigate, gathering her strength to get out of bed. She staggered to stay on her feet, swaying and trembling like an autumn leaf. Slowly, she inched towards her door. Opening it, she hissed at the sudden assault of light. The conversation stopped, if only for a moment. Then the panicked voices:

“Luce, babe, you need to get back to bed,”

“Hey, now, all that bad stuff is still in your system. Gotta sleep it off a little longer,”

“You’re in no shape to be walking, Lucretia,”

Lucretia looked around, squinting at everyone in front of her. Barry was sat on the couch, Merle and Davenport in the two sitting chairs. Merle’s leg was bouncing nervously, and Davenport was half out of his chair, ready to rush to her side. Magnus was already at her side, like he had been pacing just outside her door. The twins were standing at opposite sides of the couch, looking like they were the culprits for the argument she heard through the door. She almost laughed at how familiar this all seemed.

“I’ve had worse,” She tried to say, though the slurring of her words didn’t do her any favors. She attempted to shuffle to the tea set but Magnus kept a firm hand on her shoulder.

“No, you haven’t. At least not that you’ve bounced back from. You’re going back to bed,” He spoke it like it was an order. It may have well been. She grumbled, confused and sluggish.

“Why are you all here, anyways? What happened?” She asked. The room felt like it was tipping, and only when Magnus caught her did she realize it was just her. Her vision swirled and she caught glimpses of what was being said, words like ‘acute memory loss’ and ‘disorientation’. She let herself fall into the fuzzy blackness.

Magnus had carried Lucretia to her bedroom, which was part of a small selection of attached rooms that were set aside for the Director. They were all sat in the sitting room, which was directly off from the bedroom. The couch was set parallel to two chairs, a coffee table between them. Merle was sat in one of the chairs, murmuring prayers up to pan, and Davenport was in the other, hands clasped tightly in front of him. Magnus was pacing, of course he was, and Barry and Lup were sitting on the couch.

The note was placed on the table, partially crumpled from the death-grip Magnus had on the paper as he read it.

“So,” Lup started, “Are we gonna talk about this? Because it seems to me like there’s a lot of feelings that need to be aired out.”

There was silence as everyone mulled over their own thoughts and words. “Seriously, guys, this issue won’t fix itself. I’ll go first: I forgave Luce a long time ago. I’m not mad and I love her dearly.”

Barry snorted, “Yeah, feelings are easy to talk about when they’re that simple,” He paused for a minute, running a hand down his face, “Look, I’m not mad at her, necessarily, but I don’t fully forgive her. I’ve had a lot more time to deal with this, though. When I went into my lich form, it wasn’t all one huge rush of memories; it was over time and stuff. I think that makes this easier. I already went through my process. I’m just glad to have a family back…” He trailed off, taking Lup’s hand. If this were another scenario, they would have laughed at him, called him a sap and teased him mercilessly. But he was right; they’re all back together, despite everything.

Davenport spoke up, “Some memories are still fuzzy. I don’t think that will ever go away, really. I’m not getting my hopes up for it, at least. I don’t think that I can forgive her right now, but I…” He paused, trying to find the right words, “I do care for you all, Lucretia included. And I may not forgive her yet, but I know I will, one day. I thought she knew that, too.” He glanced at the bedroom door, then to Magnus who had stilled his pacing in front of said door. Magnus spoke up.

“I still think of her as family,” He said, scratching his cheek. He looked tired, more tired than he had in a while. He looked like the Magnus that just lost Raven’s Roost. “I thought she was doing so much better.” He sighed a watery sigh. He didn’t have to clarify. The two of them were always close, and he probably knew things about Lucretia that they didn’t, even in their hundred years together. He looked towards Merle.

“Ahh, you know, I’m a forgiving person. Things are good now, at least in my eyes. The world is saved; I get to be there for my kids. She made it up to me,” Merle looked down at his hands, “I don’t think I was ever angry, to be honest. It was just a relief that I wasn’t as big of a fuck up as I thought I was.”

Eyes slowly turned to Taako, who was still standing close to the doorway, close to an escape if need be.

“What, so I’m the bad guy here?” Taako stepped backwards, but any heat in his voice was lost. They all read the note and jumped to their own conclusions. “Sure! No, I get it. I didn’t immediately forgive the woman who made a lot of real fucked up decisions, and then when she acts out it’s my fault. No, makes sense.” A loud silence followed.

Of all the people to speak up, it was Lup. “Okay, Taako, can something not revolve around you for literally five minutes,” she narrowed her eyes, standing up from the couch.

“What the fuck, Lup, you’re on her side?” The response was almost automatic, as it had been the past few months whenever one of them defended Lucretia’s actions.

“No, I’m not on anyone’s side, because there are no sides. She didn’t even defend herself anymore, in case you didn’t notice, you just verbally abused her whenever she was in the room with you, and then you acted like it was her fault you’re still angry. Have you ever tried talking out your problems?”

Taako bristled, “You don’t know what I went through; you weren’t there!”

“No, I was trapped in a cloth prison no bigger than a broom closet for ten years, but no, you’re totally validated in your shitty grudge! No need for you to talk about things with your family, no, just keep that shit to yourself, that totally makes way more sense,” the sarcasm in Lup’s voice was so thick it could be cut with a knife.

“That’s why I’m mad at her!”

“That’s not your grudge to hold!”

“She’s responsible for so many deaths.”

Lup dropped to a cold stare, “At least 40, right?” her voice was calm and low as she glared at her brother, “Because everything you did in the past decade is her fault now, is that it?”

Whatever Taako was about to say was interrupted by Lucretia opening the door to her room. 

Chapter Text

When Lucretia awoke again, the sun was down, and there was a glass of water on her bedside table. She gulped it down, thankful for whomever had the foresight to do that for her. She got up, stretching, and rubbed at her achy joints. She remembered what happened now, of course she did, but everything was still a blur. She couldn’t tell what was truth and what was bizarre fever dream. She vaguely remembered Merle and Lup leaning over her as she lay on the floor; she remembered the team arguing in her living room (though she was unsure who was arguing who). Shaking her head to clear the mental fog, she got up from the bed.

Exiting the room, she was met with a familiar sight. Merle and Davenport were in the chairs, but they seemed to be asleep, Merle curled in on himself snoring, and Davenport resting his head on the arm of the chair. Barry and Lup were also asleep, tangled up on the couch with each other. Magnus was leaned against the side of the couch, head leaned forward in slumber. Taako wasn’t in the room, but Lucretia could hear noise coming from the small kitchenette off from the main sitting room.

Quietly, as to not disturb her guests, Lucretia made her way over and peeked around the corner, feeling a little silly sneaking around her own living space. Her suspicions were proven, though, when she saw Taako there, stirring something in a pot. Lucretia cleared her throat, trying to get his attention without startling him.

She realized she missed the mark when he jumped half a foot in the air, splattering her stovetop with the milky mixture in the pot. Still, she spoke quietly, “Shh, the others are asleep.”

Taako glared at her, but she was used to it. It was better than him outright yelling at her to get out of his kitchen. Granted, it was her kitchen in the first place, but she wouldn’t argue it, either.

They sat there in silence, Taako cooking and Lucretia leaning sleepily on the wall adjacent to him, until Taako let out a soft huff.

“Had to be Nightshade, huh. Just one final tally to the list of ‘Shit Taako Fucked Up’, is that it?” There was bitterness in his voice, but no outright malice. That was a start.

“It wasn’t my first choice. The apothecary didn’t have hemlock,” it sounded like an attempt at fatalist humor, the type Taako used to find funny. It wasn’t, though. He let out a quiet laugh anyways.

“Of course they didn’t.”

“I’m sorry.”

“You’ve been saying that a lot, recently,” He sighed, refusing to look at her. Another pause, and then he looked at her, “Where do you keep your chocolate?”

Lucretia smiled despite herself. She walked to one of her cupboards and opened it, pulling out a block of baking chocolate. Over the hundred years, hot cocoa was a comforting constant, no matter the kitchen or campsite. After handing it off to him, Taako broke off pieces and sprinkled them into the pot (‘Don’t melt the chocolate first,’ he told her once, ‘the cold milk will just solidify it anyways’). Lucretia got out the other ingredients: sugar, cinnamon, vanilla, salt. Each one she handed to him, and each one he put in the pot, then handed back for her to put away, all in comfortable silence. It was a familiar song and dance. The milk steamed (‘Never let it boil’ she heard Taako say a million times, ‘you’ll scorch the milk and I don’t wanna have to scrape out this pot’) and when Taako decided it was heated enough, he poured it into two glasses. Lucretia raised her brow.

“You made enough for two?”

“Well yeah, I wasn’t about to drink this alone,” he waved her off, putting the glasses down on her dining table. It was a small round table, made of a light wood, four accompanying chairs surrounding it. Taako plopped down in one, motioning towards the one across from him. Cautiously, Lucretia took a seat.

“I wasn’t awake when you started,” she said, bringing the glass towards her. It was warm in her hands, but not hot enough to burn her.

“I would have woken you.” He replied like it was obvious, taking a gulp from his own glass.

She nodded, sipping on the cocoa. It was sweet and rich, with just a hint of spice from the cinnamon.

“I missed your cocoa,” She said wistfully. ‘I missed you’ went unspoken.

“Yeah,” He said, looking deeply into his glass. ‘I was right here’ went unspoken. “Listen, Luce, we gotta talk about this. About us.” And as much as he hated to say it, it was true. Whatever they were doing now clearly wasn’t healthy, not for either of them. He’d been in enough toxic friendships to know that much.

“Yeah,” It was her turn to look into her glass, watching the swirling froth and spice as though it was the most fascinating thing she had seen in weeks. For all he knew, it had been. “I know you hate me. I’m alright with that.”

“You are? Because people who are alright with things don’t typically try to punch their own ticket,” he said with forced levity. She furrowed her brows.

“Perhaps a better way to say it is I’m trying to be alright with it,” she spoke slowly, testing the words. She quickly added, “But it wasn’t your fault. I thought I expressed as much in my…” she trailed off, unsure of what to call it.

“In your suicide note,” he said it blandly, as though he was naming a newspaper title. He slumped, though, running a hand through his hair, “Jeez, Luce, if I thought you would actually-” he cut himself off. Pursing his lips, he tried again, “I don’t mean a lot of the shit I say, especially when it comes to feelings and people. And I don’t really have a filter when I get angry. Or, rather, everything I say goes through the anger filter and everything comes out bitter and hateful. You get me?”

“Yeah,” Lucretia nodded, taking another drink of her now-lukewarm cocoa. She thought about their encounters since the Day of Story and Song. Taako said some nasty things, sure, but every threat was hollow, and though it was the smallest of victories, Lucretia had taken it in stride. Taako gave a frustrated sigh.

“Okay, this is a conversation we’re having, in case you couldn’t tell. I’d like to talk with you, not just at you,” he rolled his eyes, leaning his head on his hand. He scanned her for a moment, no doubt trying to gain some insight into what she was thinking about.

“I… I’m okay with how things played out, I think. You’re all happy, happier than you were on the tail end of our Starblaster days. Merle laughs with his eyes again and Magnus is able to do things for himself, not just for others. I tell myself that those ten years, they were worth breaking the cycle. It was worth it: every year, every month, every minute of torment was worth being able to live this happy ending. But then things happen that remind me that these past ten years happened. There are people I lost that I can’t get back,” she stared at the table without seeing it, instead seeing Julia’s face when Lucretia first met her in Raven’s Roost, before the rebellion, seeing Maureen Miller’s face from before the Philosopher’s Stone, when her bright eyes mirrored her bright mind, seeing Johan’s face, the rare moments he let himself smile. Tears had gathered in her eyes at some point, and one fell from her cheek. She swiped it away quickly with a huff of self-deprecating laughter. “I don’t think I realized I might lose you, too,”

“That’s quite poetic of you.”

“A hundred years of writing will do that to you.”

“…I’m still here, you know,” he said, sharper than he intended.

“I know. But it’s different. You’re different, I’m different.”

Another long pause.

“You were wrong.”

“I know.”

“No, I mean in your note,” Taako stared at Lucretia until she met his eyes, confusion drawn on her features. “You said that I was right. That what you did was irreparable, and that it was a mistake for me to think of you as family. That’s all wrong. Very wrong.”

“That’s… kind of you to say, but forgive me for doubting its sincerity. You’re not exactly subtle in your distaste for me these days.”

Taako, made a noise of frustration, “Yeah, I’m angry, Luce, I’m going to be angry. I’m allowed to be angry. This isn’t the kind of shit you forgive overnight. But I want to forgive you, eventually, and I can’t do that when you go around taking every word from my mouth as the holy truth. Brash decisions are what got us in this mess!” he yelled, forgetting that they had company in the next room. There was a moment of tense silence between the two of them, waiting to hear movement from the other room. They heard Merle mumble something, presumably in his sleep, and then all was still. Lucretia let out a quiet sigh.

“I know, Taako. I’m just… tired,” and she felt it. She felt it in the way her joints ached when she woke up in the morning, felt it in the thick fog through her mind when she tried to remember what once was second nature. She felt the energy drain from her as she did everyday tasks, things she once enjoyed, and ended up just lying in her bed for hours. There was another silence.

“What did you want me to tell Lup?”

“What?”

“When you were on the stone with me, yesterday, you were asking me to tell Lup something before I cut you off. What were you going to say?” There was a glint in his eye, like he knew something she didn’t, but it didn’t sound challenging, not like most of his questions as of late. There was no ‘right’ answer here, nothing that would lessen the blow of whatever explosion she was about to set off. It was just a question.

The truth tumbled out of Lucretia before she could be bothered to stop it, “I was going to have you tell her it wasn’t your fault,” she looked down to the table again, to her long forgotten hot cocoa. Taako laughed, not maliciously.

“You realize how that would have looked, yeah? How that still looks?”

“How do you mean?”

“I get off the stone with you, rush to Lup’s room telling her I indirectly told you to kill yourself, and suddenly we see you laying on your floor, poison in your mouth, and a note on your desk. Driving factor or not, I was a factor. That fucks with people,” he got a distant look in his eye, reminded of the last time he was a driving factor in a poisoning. ‘It’s not your fault’ the hollow voice in his head rings out, ‘Sazeed was to blame, you didn’t kill them’. It’s a nice reassurance, however empty it may be.

 “I was already down a dark spiral. Nothing you said made it worse. If anything, I’m glad I called you, in hindsight. My brash decision got us to talk about our issues after all,” she gave a quiet chuckle. Taako looked at her funny, like she was a puzzle he couldn’t figure out, or a painting he couldn’t place the subject of. Like she was a woman he once knew with an older face and wiser heart.

“You’re still family, Luce, you know that, right?” he reached across the table, prompting her to take his hand. She did, and they laced fingers: dainty, manicured hands meeting calloused, wrinkled ones.

“…Tell me you hate me,” she asked, voice catching on the last word.

“I don’t,” he said immediately, “I might have, once, but I don’t hate you now. You’re my sister, Luce, and I love you.”

They shared a beat of silence, just for themselves, before Merle sauntered around the corner.

“Glad that worked out,” he yawned, “By the way, I cast Zone of Truth when you guys woke me up with your yelling.”

“I know,” the two of them said in unison, sharing a sly smile. Merle grumbled, but didn’t raise more of a fuss than that.

“You two know that the others are still going to be worrying about this for a while, right?”

“Oh, trust me, I know,” Lucretia said with a weary smile. “I don’t think Magnus will let me off suicide watch for at least a month.”

Merle raised his brows, “You’re awfully candid about the whole thing. Do I need to be worried?” he asked, and even though it was said casually, his dad-like concern weaved its way into his words.

Lucretia didn’t know if he needed to be worried, honestly. Just like their family, she wasn’t going to be able to forgive herself overnight. It wasn’t like one late night conversation would fix ten years of trauma. A mended family doesn’t offset the near-apocalypse. She isn’t suddenly cured with a cup of hot chocolate.

But all of those factors didn’t hurt, either. This night, this conversation, was a turning point. It was a start.

And after the end of the world, a start was all she could ever hope for.