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Cycle 3
“We can’t just leave.” Magnus doesn’t look at Lucretia as he shoots down her idea. He’s pacing across the main deck of the Starblaster, jumping to touch every other panel on the ceiling. Lucretia has never wanted to murder someone more, not even after Taako used all of her good face lotion last cycle.
She sighs.
“Please join us, Mr. Burnsides, and make your case.”
“Ohoho, Mr. Burnsides, you’re in trouble now!” Merle sings out. Davenport shoots Lucretia a “cool it” glance, which she pretends not to see. Instead she closes her eyes for a moment and imagines casting Silence on everyone in the room. She reminds herself that they’ll be out of here in a few hours. Hopefully. Probably. They still aren’t certain how this exhausting mess works.
“Look,” Magnus says, mid-jump. “360!” Davenport puts his hand on Lucretia’s, but Lup beats her to the draw anyways, sending a spell spiraling lazily towards Magnus. Magnus hits the floor with a thunk, saving all of their sanity. He strains uselessly against the casting but eventually sighs and addresses the crew from where he’s been stuck fast.
“We didn’t find the Light of Creation this time. But we can still try and warn people. Help them survive.”
“They’re fucking fish.” Taako’s lounging next to the table, having magicked his generic fantasy office chair to look like a chaise lounge.
“They’re sentient beings!” Magnus retorts.
“We did warn them,” Lup points out. “Multiple times. We’ve been straight-up prophets of fucking doom. If they haven’t listened yet…” she shrugs. “Endangering ourselves by leaving the Starblaster right before the Hunger arrives doesn’t make sense.” Taako blows a raspberry and Lup high-fives him and Lucretia know they don’t have time for any of this.
“I’m sorry, Magnus,” Lucretia tries to draw the conversation back to the actual problem. “But we’ve been having this argument for--”
“11 months and 29 and a half days,” Barry supplies helpfully, taking off his glasses to rub his eyes.
“And it’s over,” Lucretia continues. “The Hunger is at our door. We’re taking a vote and sealing the Starblaster.”
Davenport clears his throat. “All in favor of a final last stand with the fish people, say aye.”
“Aye,” says Magnus, glaring around the room. Merle rolls his eyes. No one else speaks. Lucretia presses on.
“All in favor of leaving immediately, say aye.”
“Aye,” chime the rest of the crew.
“How can you turn your back on these people? How can you act like its nothing?” Magnus stares down Lucretia, as if she’s personally responsible for this, as if she’s not one of six other people on this ship.
He’s right. It’s not nothing. But she’s not like Magnus, who seems willing to die, almost eager. She can feel a deep, inarticulate scream clawing its way out of her at the thought of dying again. Last cycle she drowned, and she can still feel the choking fullness as the water pressed into her lungs. She still wakes up at night, sweating, trembling, gasping for air. She can’t be like Magnus. She will fight the Hunger, but she won’t throw herself at the breach without good reason.
“Let’s go,” Davenport says, pushing away from the table.
“Magnus!” Lucretia tries to catch him as the crew disperses to their stations, but he doesn’t turn as he walks away.
Cycle 5
Taako can be nigh-impossible at the best of times, and he’s certainly damned impossible for at least a month anytime after Lup dies. He is in fine form tonight, clattering pots and pans while chain-smoking a pack of fantasy cigarettes and shooting hexes at anyone who so much as breathes near him.
He bangs the final pot onto the table and sits down, lighting another cigarette and waving at all of them to start eating.
“Looks great,” Barry says a little too cheerfully as they start passing dishes around the table.
“You know,” Magnus says around a bite of mashed potato, “you don’t always have to cook. I could take a turn, if you’re not feeling up to it.”
“If I want to eat trash, I’ll go gorge myself on hot dogs at the fantasy 7-11.” Taako jabs his cigarette at Magnus. “At least that way I’ll have the satisfaction of dying on my own terms, not because you killed me with your bad cooking.”
Magnus goes silent and pushes away from the table. “I’ll be in my room,” he says.
“Sit down, Magnus,” Davenport says gently as Taako takes a long drag on his cigarette. “This crew eats together.”
“I’m not eating with him,” Magnus says, pointing to Taako. “He doesn’t have the corner on grief.”
“She’s my sister,” Taako’s finger’s twitch near his wand.
“We’re all mourning,” Magnus growls. “I can be sad about Lup too.” Taako’s wand is in his hand faster almost faster than Lucretia can follow. Almost. Lucretia manages to throw a brilliant bubble of a shield over Magnus at the last second and Taako’s spell bounces off, singeing Merle’s beard.
Taako’s magic is a street-brawling kind of magic, hard and ragged and dirty. Lucretia’s is studied, learned from books and controlled practice sessions with tutors. But that doesn’t mean that she isn’t damn fast.
Taako stares hard at her, then sighs and nods in a kind of acknowledgment. He stubs out his cigarette and starts picking at the salad.
Lucretia thinks the fight is over, but instead of settling back at the table Magnus stays standing. He’s breathing hard.
“I don’t need your help,” he says to Lucretia. “I can take care of myself.”
“Well so far you’re not doing a great job of protecting yourself, or us,” Lucretia says, exhaustion and fear making her snap. “So we best hope we’re not stuck doing this for the rest of our lives.”
Cycle 12
“It looks like we’re stuck doing this for the rest of our lives.”
Magnus doesn’t turn to look at her as he speaks, just stares at the ceaseless rain slicking the outside of the Starblaster. It’s been raining since they landed planetside three months ago. The constant drumming drove Lucretia insane at first--she stuffed cotton balls in her ears just to get writing done. Now she rarely notices the noise, unless the storm picks up.
Lucretia pulls up short at the sight of Magnus uninvited on her couch. She and Magnus are cordial, but nothing more. She can’t imagine why he’s here.
“Hmm….” she says noncommittally, sliding into the chair behind her desk. She straightens a few items, then pulls out the set of journals she was working on, but leaves them unopened. She’s not sure she can write with Magnus drooping on her couch.
“Why aren’t you at the fantasy poker game?” Lucretia asks, grasping for conversation. “Taako says Merle’s tells are so obvious that he almost feels bad taking money from him.”
Magnus ignores her.
“Can you brood somewhere else? I have things I’d like to do and you’re somehow managing to take up more space than any one creature possibly should.”
When he turns toward her, Magnus’ normally cheerful face is full of an emotion Lucretia can’t quite name. Longing? Regret?
“It is my fault, Lucretia.” Ah. So it’s about this.
“Davenport knew that exploring that cave system would be dangerous, it’s not your--”
“We don’t have our captain. Because of me. Every time someone dies, it’s my fault. For not being good enough, or strong enough, or fast enough. I can’t help study the Hunger. All I can do is try and protect you, and I’m failing at that.” Magnus starts pacing, frantic. “I need to hear something good, Lucretia. I’ve tried and tried and I can’t remember the last time something went right for us.”
Lucretia hums a little, tilting her head, then moves to the shelf where she keeps the journals from past cycles, running her fingers lightly over the spines. There. This one.
She clears her throat. “Look,” she asks, “if you could just--could you be less...big? Just for a minute? Maybe stop pacing? I want to read you something.”
Magnus sits on the edge of her desk. Ray of Frost barely misses his head.
“I’m sorry,” Lucretia says in a voice that conveys many things, none of them sorrow.
“My bad.” Magnus holds up his hands and moves back to the couch. “Maybe I should go. This was a stupid idea. I’ll--” Lucretia cuts him off and settles into her chair.
“Just listen,” she insists. Magnus leans back, arms crossed and toes tapping, while Lucretia reads from her record. She reads about the fantasy soccer game Magnus organized last cycle, about the villagers they’d helped after a flood, about her birthday dinner where Barry got drunk and surprised them all by singing a duet with Davenport--anything she can think of that reminds her of a normal life. Of home. As he listens, Magnus drops his arms to his lap and stills his feet. His eyes close and Lucretia pauses.
He cracks one eye open. “Just a little more?” he asks.
And she turns the page of her journal.
Cycle 16
Lucretia can’t put her finger on the moment she notices it happening, but when she looks back, it becomes so obvious she wants to smack herself.
She’s pacing in the kitchen, muttering over Barry and Lup’s latest theory. When she turns for her mug of tea, Magnus is sitting at the table, cleaning his weapons. He gives her a little wave then goes back to whistling tunelessly.
Lucretia is following Merle and the others through the pine forest, searching for the Light of Creation. When she falls behind to observe a flower she’s never seen before, Magnus drops back to guard their rear.
Lucretia is under a tree, writing in her journals, watching the afternoon light dapple the pages. Absorbed in her work, she loses track of time. It’s almost evening now, and in the fading light she sees Magnus doing push-ups nearby. She watches him for a moment before coughing to get his attention.
“Are you following me?” she asks, genuinely curious.
“No,” Magnus says, not pausing his workout.
“You realize I’ve got my wand, I can take care of myself.”
“I know. I’m not worried about that.” Magnus rolls over and starts doing crunches.
“So you’re not following me and you’re not protecting me. What are you doing?” Lucretia’s fishing now, and she hates it. She should be smart enough to figure this out.
Magnus pauses and something like sadness crosses his face.
“I like being with you. Is it that hard to believe, Lucretia?” His voice is gentle.
Lucretia swallows the words she had ready. She has always been a loner, but not necessarily lonely. This is not a distinction that many people understand. Lucretia was ready for pity, but instead, here in the fading light, she has found kindness.
“No,” she responds, “you make it easy.”
Cycle 31
She debates with Davenport. She gardens with Merle, and washes dishes with Lup and Taako, and stays up too late arguing theories with Barry. But with Magnus she just...is.
Magnus is in motion every moment on the Starblaster. Exercising, laughing, bringing home stray animals to care for, knocking furniture over, reaching things for Davenport.
But when he wanders into her cabin he just listens with a smile on his face, laughing and crying at all the right parts in her journals.
Reading from behind the desk begins to feel too formal, so she perches on the arm of the couch next to him.
“Why do you always sit like that?” he asks one day, frowning.
“Like what?”
“Like you can’t even stand to be near me? I mean, I am always kind of sweaty, but we’ve been friends for like, thirty years now.”
“More like twenty-five years,” Lucretia jokes. She hesitates, then slides down to sit stiffly next to Magnus on the couch. He’s like a radiator, waves of his heat washing over her.
“Of course you’re my friend,” Lucretia feels something bright and joyful rise inside of her.
“You look stiff as a board. Come here,” Magnus says. He opens his arms and pulls Lucretia gently against his chest. He tucks one arm around her and props his chin on her head.
Lucretia feels herself relax against him. She can’t remember the last time someone held her like this.
“Better?” Magnus asks.
“Better,” Lucretia says. And it is.
Cycle 50
Magnus finds her asleep on the couch and carries her gently to her cabin.
Cycle 54
Lucretia teaches Magnus how to throw a knife. The right way.
Cycle 60
Magnus kisses her their last night on a world covered with ice so crystalline and fine that every time the sun rises it looks like the world is catching fire. He kisses her and Lucretia feels the heat rise in her. He cups her face in his hands and the look in his eyes makes her blood quicken. He kisses her again, no longer questioning, but sure and urgent. When he breaks away though, something has changed. He looks…he looks like the Magnus who showed up in her room all those cycles ago--hopeless. He presses a final kiss against her cheek and turns away.
Cycle 66
The crew starts sleeping in the common area after escaping the Judge’s world. It’s not official, but they’re reluctant to leave anyone alone. Lucretia knows she’s not the only one having nightmares.
Lup and Barry spoon on one couch, Barry’s arm tucked around Lup. Taako lounges (he can somehow lounge even in his sleep) on the recliner, claiming to have a bad back so that he can kick Merle to the ottoman. Davenport and Lucretia curl up on corners of the other couch, while Magnus sprawls on the floor below them. Lucretia sleeps better than she has in a year, listening to the gentle sounds of breathing all around her. It makes her want to weep from joy, even Merle’s snoring. She’s just so damn happy.
They haven’t let her out of their sight since they found her on the floor of the Starblaster, crying and laughing and more relieved than she’s been in any of her many lives. She made it. And they came back.
Her year alone left Lucretia a different person and left her office an gigantic mess. Her normally immaculate desk is scattered with papers and journals and tools. There’s a blanket of dust over everything, and her fingers itch to make the space hers again. As she cleans and sorts, Davenport pops his head in to see if she needs anything and ducks out when she says she’s fine.
Lup and Taako barge in with a mug of tea and a flurry of complaints about her kitchen organization scheme before bickering loudly on their way out about where to put the saucepans.
They’ve only been gone ten minutes when Barry comes in to ask if she’s seen any of the notes that he swears he left in the lab, but can’t find anywhere. She points him to the crate that she swept a bunch of important looking papers into during a (small) fire onboard and then she’s alone. She hopes.
She gets an hour to herself before there’s another knock, and Magnus pokes his shaggy head into the room but unlike the others he hesitates on the threshold, as if he’s unsure that he’s welcome. It’s the first time they’ve been alone since the crew came back and he looks. So. Damn. Good. (It won’t be until decades later, when Lucretia wakes up next to the sleeping form of Captain Captain Bane that she suspects that she has a type.)
Lucretia might have hesitated once, might have made a joke, might have told Magnus she was busy. Instead she pulls him through the door. It swings shut behind him and Lucretia raises her hands, as if beginning an invocation, but instead she pushes him against the wall. Her mouth finds his and his body is warm against the length of hers. It’s as good as she remembers, and more. There’s no hesitation from him. His hands are everywhere: in her hair, pushing down her sides, cupping her face towards his. Magnus tastes of sweat and woodsmoke, with a tang like iron. As his kisses move down her neck she wonders if she tastes of her craft too, knowing that she does as his tongue lingers on the bitter ink smudges on her neck.
She smoothes her hands along his chest, his narrow waist, and then reaches down further.
Magnus growls and sweeps her in his arms, tumbling them both onto her bed.
She rises up to kiss him.
“Booyah,” she whispers.
The next morning at breakfast Lup high fives her, and when she asks why, Lup just points to the nearest mirror, where Lucretia can see a hickey on her neck.
“About time,” Lup drawls. “The will-they, won’t-they was killing me.”
“Does everyone know?” Lucretia asks, pulling at her collar.
Lup shrugs. “Does it matter? I mean, how long has it been since you’ve gotten yours?” She only waits for a second before saying “No, don’t answer that. It’s going to make me depressed.”
Lucretia makes a face at her. “Not all of us got thrown together with our soul mates on an infinite time-traveling journey.”
Lup smirks, but Lucretia just grins.
When Lucretia goes looking for Magnus later that day, he’s gone with Davenport to look for the Light of Creation.
That evening, Davenport returns alone.
Cycle 67
Magnus is in her quarters before they’ve even touched down on the new world. He sprawls over her entire couch. Lucretia understands logically how a bigger bodies displace more space. She could run the calculations, but she knows they won’t capture how Magnus manages to be so… big. He’s holding a compress up to his black eye.
“I’m sorry,” are the first words out of his mouth. He winces as he sits up too fast. Being unraveled and rewoven will do that to you.
“Don’t be,” she says gently, picking up the strand of a conversation they should have had nine months ago. It was hard once, living in the ever-present. But they’ve become experts at weaving a pattern from their patchwork existence. “It was freely given,” she adds.
“It’s just--. I don’t do casual. I can’t. It’s not who I am. And I’m not.” He rubs his face in frustration. “I love you Lucretia. I love you, but I can’t see--”
She holds up her hands to stop him.
“You want five dogs, Magnus.”
“Well, I’ll take five, but if there’s more--”
“You want five dogs. You want a big, rambling house with vines wreathing the window. You want a workshop and evenings filled with song and the laughter of friends. You want a companion to join you in your work, someone who can help you build your house and build a life with. A someone for forever. She’ll make you laugh and she’ll have your back and she’ll really, really like dogs. I know what you dream about. I hope I would, after all this time. But if there’s one thing I know Magnus, it’s that I’m not that woman.”
He shakes his head but Lucretia pushes on. “But I believe that someone is. And that she’s waiting for you.” Lucretia does believe this. She wants this for Magnus. Her friend. Her love. Years from now, in a future than neither of them can imagine, she will cheer and cry at Magnus and Julia’s wedding, hidden in the back among the other party guests, slipping out before the bride and groom can turn and catch a glimpse of someone who neither of them could even imagine existed.
But here and now, all she knows is that there are tears in Magnus’ eyes. He rubs his face then hangs in head in a flat, heavy denial that breaks her heart. She knows that it feels impossible, to have and hold any dreams outside of the Starblaster, to imagine a future where they aren’t always on the run.
Lucretia knows the fear in his eyes, because she feels it too.
Lucretia is scared.
She’s scared of dying. She’s scared that her journals will never find an audience. And she’s always been scared of giving her heart.
She realizes, looking at Magnus, that she isn’t scared anymore.
She walks over to the couch and wraps her arms around him. When he doesn’t look at her she lifts his face with one hand.
“I love you too, Magnus. And that’s enough for me. If that’s not enough for you, I understand. Absolutely. But we’ve been doing this too long for me to pretend that I’m going to make it through this without you. I need you.”
He lifts his face, finds her eyes. “You have always been enough,” he says. And he kisses her.
The Waiting
Lucretia lives for words. She dreams in poetry. But she has no words for that moment.
The moment she took everything from everyone she loved.
She wants to die, it feels like. Only the driving purpose of defeating the Hunger keeps her going. She wishes she could have redacted her own memories. She is tempted, more than once, to feed Fisher the most beautiful parts of her journals so that she can stop remembering.
She remembers his earnest questions when she reads him something he doesn’t understand.
She remembers him lying on her couch, tossing a ball in the air over and over, talking about what he’s going to name his dogs.
She remembers the brush of his breath on her cheek.
This is her penance.
At least he is safe. They are all safe.
The Hunger
Magnus is standing in front of the gangway to the Starblaster, the sky above him faded, thick columns of black draining the land around them.
She has an apology ready on her lips when he sweeps her into a bear hug.
“You found her,” Lucretia whispers into his chest. “You found your forever.” She hears him sniffle, than laugh as he finally sets her down.
“I did. I’m not sure whether I should slap you or thank you,” he says.
“Neither, please,” she says. They are silent for a moment.
“I missed you.” Lucretia has not allowed herself to say this to anyone else. Her sorrow is so much less when compared to what she took from them. She knows she doesn’t deserve their forgiveness. Nor will she ask it.
But here, like sunlight after storm, Magnus gives it to her.
“I missed you too, old friend.” He kisses her forehead and they stand like that for a moment, remembering, silhouetted against the darkening sky. Then Magnus begins to walk up the gangway, stopping and holding out a hand. “Let’s go kick some ass.”
And Lucretia realizes, for the first time in a long time, that she doesn't feel scared.