Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“I don’t understand…what does justice mean to you? I thought I knew what it meant, and it just seems like you and Grizzop have this completely different idea.”

Hamid doesn’t look at Azu as he says this, head bowed and body slumped as they sit next to each other on the chaise lounge that is far too small for Azu. Her large arm is wrapped around his shoulders in a move that would be comforting if it weren’t for the twisting emotional turmoil inside of him. If it weren’t for the complex writhing mess in his stomach about Saleh that he’s not quite willing to sort through yet, overlayed by heavy guilt and sorrow about his own past. His own mistakes. In the eyes of Azu and Grizzop, two people Hamid respects and trusts more than almost anyone, he’s probably no better than his brother. Worse even because he never went to prison for the blood on his hands. Could he even tell them what he’s done? Hamid’s not sure. He can’t look at her, can’t let her know that he’s not talking about Saleh anymore.

Azu thinks for a moment, her thoughtful hum both a comfort and a twisting worry.

“Justice means that people get what they deserve.”

With those simple words, Hamid desperately tries not to think about the past, tries desperately not to think about that day. He tries not to think about the choking coughs and the slumping shadows. The bodies hitting the floor, still clawing their way towards the door. The sounds he’s never heard are now ringing in his ears, as both Gideon and Hamid had run off with conspiratorial giggles before the true damage of their actions had been revealed. He can feel the tears falling down his face as he pushes those memories back to where they can’t come spilling out. The guilt’s back, a twisting question about how Azu and Grizzop would react if they knew about his past. He’d probably be hearing the exact same things, that tirade of accusation and the miscarriage of justice. His family had helped him avoid the consequences of his actions, had helped him escape prison.

It was exactly like what Hamid had been hoping to do for Saleh.

Would Azu have said they same thing if she’d realised that he wasn’t talking about Saleh? Probably, being a Paladin and all that. She probably would feel the same way about him, although perhaps it would be even worse because Hamid hadn’t fought his family’s decision to help him avoid the consequences. Hamid hadn’t accepted his punishment. Instead, he’d drunk and gambled his way into exile until he’d found something that he thought could maybe undo some of the damage he’s done. Not that that had done anyone much good. Not that his actions hadn’t just made everything worse. Again.

Beside him, Hamid feels Azu quietly panicking. Her words begin to stutter, and her arms start moving in a fretting moment as she feel Hamid’s distress. Perhaps she even notices his tears. Who was he kidding? Only Bertie wouldn’t have noticed, and that was because he’s Bertie. Instead, Hamid guess that his reaction clearly wasn’t what she was expecting. That thought shocks him for a moment. She didn’t know? She didn’t realise that he wasn’t talking about his brother anymore.

“No, I didn’t, I didn’t mean that, you know, people—that he was going to deserve to be—but we thought he was a murderer, and so…” She tries to say, tries to find the words to explain.

Azu still thinks he’s talking about Saleh. Time to fix that. As much as Hamid wants to keep his shame a secret, he can’t. He can’t keep the emotions and guilt from spilling out and consuming all of them. She has to know that this isn’t about his brother anymore.

Hamid takes a shallow breath and tries not to think about the disappointment that will soon be on her face. Soon, they’ll all look at him the same way that they’ve been looking at Saleh.

Maybe that’s what Hamid deserves.

“But I haven’t gotten what I’ve deserved, Azu,” Hamid sobs, still staring at the floor. “If—if that’s what you think he deserves, then that’s what I deserve as well, and maybe you and Grizzop just need to arrest me, too.”

The words are spilling out, Hamid barely able to control them. He can stop himself saying what he’s done, but the rest of it is a blur, falling with the tears streaming down his face.

“No.”

Her response is barely louder than a breath, like she doesn’t believe what he’s saying. Maybe she doesn’t, maybe Hamid’s pushed his sins so far behind his family’s money that it’s completely hidden, even from the Cult of Aphrodite. He opens his mouth to speak again, to explain the blood on his hands. But the words choke in his throat like a poisonous fog, coming out as nothing more than sobs. He can’t do this now. Maybe in the morning, when he’s sorted through this tangled mess of emotions and Azu's words, he’ll explain. He’ll throw his fate in the hands of the party and have them haul him off to prison with his brother and father. That’s probably what he deserves.

“I’m going to bed,” Hamid says, standing and leaving the room before Azu can stop him.

He still hasn’t looked at her.

Somehow, Hamid makes it to his bedroom without completely losing it. A few servants would have seen him, but they’re professional enough to turn the other way, especially with all the drama currently surrounding his family. They’ve no reason to suspect that it’s anything other than that. But the minute the door swings shut behind him, Hamid collapses. He’s only vaguely aware that he’s even doing it, only that he’s sitting on the floor in a tight ball and leaning against the door. The sobs come heavier now, soaking into his clothes, each sob bringing back fresh memories and visions of the things he’s done, even if he wasn’t there to see them himself. Sob. A student claws at the floor. Sob. He’s hearing the cries of alarm go up across the University Campus. Sob. A body falls against a desk. Sob. Everyone is staring down at him. Sob.

But with each sob, Hamid hears those words. They rattle and yell through his mind, drowned out only by the sounds of people dying.

Justice is people get what they deserve.

There’s no denying it, Hamid hadn’t gotten what he deserved. Sure, he’d been expelled, but that was nothing considering that he had killed a teacher and some of the students. It should have been much worse than that, but his family had used their money and made the problem go away.

And Hamid, he’d gotten away with murder.

That phrase continues to bounce around in his head, getting louder and louder until it drowns out the memories. All that remains is a static mess of guilt and those simple little words. Justice is people get what they deserve. Despite everything, Hamid had never seen it that way. He couldn’t describe what he used to view as justice, although the phase ‘fuzzy ideal that makes himself feel slightly better’ would be the most accurate description. Yet, what Azu just said makes sense in a way that all his late-night memories hadn’t. It was like it was the answer that he’d been searching for this entire time. Like he’d been lying to himself all those months since the incident, which, knowing his own skills, he probably had. But after hearing that phrase, it all made sense now. And most importantly, Hamid definitely hadn’t gotten what he deserved.

But what did he deserve, what punishment besides prison should befall him? But if he was in prison, then he wouldn’t have the chance to maybe try and undo some of the damage he’s done. Not that that desire has been successful in the slightest, what with Hamid being personally responsible for crashing a large portion of inter-country communication and banking. Considering that, considering everything he’s done up until now has made everything worse for everyone, then maybe it would be for everyone’s best interest if Hamid was locked up and forgotten about.

Curling tighter into himself, Hamid finds himself, somehow, coming out of that tight knot of grief and guilt. It’s still there, still bubbling just beneath the surface, but there’s a fraction of calmness within it, enough to give Hamid the chance to think, enough to give Hamid the chance to weight his options and decide what to do next. He can’t continue, he can’t carry on like this, holding in the weight of his crimes and the punishment he’s avoided. The justice that was never carried out. Before him, several options stretch and weave, each leading down a road that Hamid can see no end to. He could tell the Paladins and have them look down upon him with a disappointment that he knows would break him. They’d hate him for what he’s done and for what he’s avoided. Could he do that to himself?

He deserves far worse.

It doesn’t help that the more Hamid hears these thoughts and that phrase, the more Azu’s words both make sense and feel incomplete. There’s a simple truth to the words, a solid fact that can’t be ignored. But if that’s what justice is, and Hamid trusts Azu’s judgement as a Paladin of Aphrodite, then what is the answer in times like this? How is justice dealt in times like this and is prison his only option? He wishes that there was a simple answer, one neat little phrase to tell him what he needs to do next. Hamid knows that the Paladins would know, as guidance was something that they were supposed to be good at. Maybe having them judge him and leave him would be the justice Hamid deserves. After all, given how they reacted to Saleh, there’s little doubt in Hamid’s mind that they would react the same, probably worse considering he considers them his friends.

The easiest thing would be to not tell them, to not let them know what he’s done. But he can’t shoulder that shame anymore, he can’t ignore the simple truth that there is still some punishment coming his way. But at the same time, can he muster up the courage to tell them so that he can see their judgement? Hamid doesn’t know.

A part of him wants to stand up, to head to his bed and sleep on everything. But his legs are too shaky and weak to move. Plus, there’s a strange comfort to the ground and the darkness that wraps around him like a cloak, a fragile bit of warmth in his guilt. So, Hamid sits in the dark under that thick cloak, listening to his breath go in and out, in and out. Each breath in brings a fresh wave of guilt and memories, and each breath out smothers the feeling with his megre possibilities. Sometimes it’s the faces of Azu and Grizzop, looking down at him with pure disappointment and telling him that they have to do this, that it’s justice. Other times he’s alone and behind bars, unable to cause any more damage, justice finally served. Then there’s the faces of those he’s killed, staring at him from the darkness with hate. But very occasionally, there’s nothing, a blank silence. Hamid likes those moments best.

The night wears on with Hamid getting very little sleep. There’s too much on his mind and his heart to offer him the peaceful oblivion of sleep. But, in the early hours of the morning, after hours of mental circles, Hamid finally settles on a course of action.

He knows what he has to do. He knows what justice in his case means.

The morning brings more sandstorms, trapping the party within the confines of the Al-Tahan mansion. Hamid’s still sitting with his knees to his chest and his back to his door. There’s an ache to his bones, a tiredness under his eyes, and a strange smothering peace in his stomach. It’s an odd sensation, but one he’s grateful for. Maybe it’s because for the first time in a long time, there’s a little bit of certainty about his path, the words of Aphrodite guiding him on.

Justice is people get what they deserve.

Eventually, Hamid makes his way quietly down the stairs. Despite everything, it’s a nice morning, the sandstorm having given way to a clear blue sky and a dry heat that’s far less oppressive than normal. Servants bustle around him, pointedly ignoring Hamid with little more than side glances. How much did they hear from last night? Without thinking, Hamid finds himself making his way slowly down to the breakfast hall, tension building him his stomach. He doesn’t want to face his friends, doesn’t want to keep seeing that disappointed look that they’re all giving him. Maybe that’s why Hamid stops moving, instead standing in the shadow of a sculpture his family didn’t need to buy, listening in to the sounds through the open door a few doors down.

There’s the sound of cutlery clinking against plates, the sound of servants moving plates and passing around drinks, the sound of Grizzop’s voice as he talks with Sasha and the servants. It seems so natural, so peaceful, like Hamid isn’t needed or wanted there. Listening to his nerves and rapidly beating heart, Hamid stands there, the sounds of everything going well flowing around him.

“Morning Grizzop,” Azu says suddenly.

Considering that Hamid hadn’t seen the orc in the corridor, she must have gone through a different entrance, especially since the guest wing was closer to the doors on the other side of the dining room. That was probably a good thing, as Hamid doesn’t exactly want to run into Azu while he’s just standing in there the hallway like a guilty presence, light spilling around him without touching him.

“Good morning,” Grizzop says, mouth sounding full of what is probably eggs and sausages.

“Morning Sasha.”

“Alright,” she responds, equally muffled by the sounds of breakfast.

There’s a flurry of noise as Azu sits down and grabs something to eat. There’s a clatter of a plate and the scraping of a chair, the sound amplified to Hamid’s ears and reminding him that he’s not in there with them yet.

“How are you feeling?”

Azu’s voice cuts through it all, and for the briefest moment Hamid thinks she’s talking to him. The guilt and anxiousness is still writhing in his stomach, anxiety burning with what he knows he needs to do next. He doesn’t want to do this, he doesn’t want to rip the band-aid off with the simple words he spent the morning stumbling over in his head. And that’s not even counting in the sleepless night he’d had, surrounded by the faces of the dead and living. They still stare down at him from the corners of his vision. In short, he feels terrible. Hamid stares at the floor in an attempt to avoid an answer, before realising that he’s still standing in the corridor and Azu’s words are most likely directed at Sasha. Directed at the person he should actually be worrying about.

“Oh,” Sasha begins. From what Hamid can hear, she seems happy enough, all the tension from the Barrett incident finally beginning to dissipate. “Well, the nice thing about here is they do the laundry really quick, so the fact that I keep soaking all of my clothes with blood isn’t even that much of a problem.”

Hamid can’t help himself, a small smile briefly flickering across his face. He’s going to miss them, going to miss her, even if they had very little in common to begin with.

“Mmmm,” Azu responds, unsure how to answer that.

“Yeah.”

There’s a brief moment of awkward silence.

“Well, hopefully soon we’ll be sorting that out,” Hamid hears Azu saying.

“Hooray,” Sasha responds almost sarcastically.

“Yes!”

The enthusiasm in Azu’s voice is not lost to Hamid. It’s so different from the quiet accusations of last night, the way she fumbled through her words and didn’t see the conversation shift from Saleh to Hamid. Maybe because she didn’t want to see, didn’t want to believe that Hamid is just like the rest of his family, using money and power to avoid justice.

That guilt wraps tightly around his chest once again, the knowledge of what he’s done burning in his mind. There is a lightness to it, a lightness that comes with the path he decided on last night. But it’s not gone completely, mingling instead with the words he knows he has to say. What’s going to happen next isn’t exactly justice, but it’s a start. It’s a chance for Hamid to begin to get what he deserves. He just wishes it wasn’t tying his legs to the floor and his heart to his stomach. He just wishes it didn’t cause his hands to tremble ever so slightly.

Taking a breath, Hamid moves out of the shade he was standing in. Despite how much the thought of what’s coming next scares him, despite how much the small corners of his mind scream at him to not do what he’s about to do, it’s time. He takes a few steps towards the open door, silence pounding in his ears and the emptiness of the corridor stretching into oblivion. He hears his own footsteps, steady and beating. Or is that his heart? Hamid ties it all down and heads into the dining room.

Three faces turn from their breakfast to look at him. They all look far better rested than he probably does, although Sasha still has that unnatural paleness to her skin that has been a lot more noticeable recently. Hopefully that will go away after today though if all goes well with Apophis. There’s disappointment behind the bright red of Grizzop’s eyes, a question in the warm brown of Azu’s, and Sasha just looks happy to see him like all this hasn’t affected their friendship at all. The six pair of eyes bore into him, tearing into that mess of emotion in his chest and leaving him rooted to the floor once again. Did Azu tell them what he'd said last night, did she tell them that he's made worse mistakes than his brother. From the expression in Grizzop's eyes, Hamid guesses that she has. Although, he's having trouble getting a clear read on him. With enormous strength of will, Hamid takes a step forward into the room, trying to keep his breathing steady.

“Good-good morning,” he says with a shake that betrays how he’s feeling, his natural ability to put on a false face evaporating in the presence of his friends.

Azu raises an eyebrow, perhaps noticing something. Maybe she sees everything, or perhaps it’s just she sees his unease. Does she see the truth that her words have brought?

“Morning Hamid,” she says in a tone almost too quiet to catch.

Does she know what he's about to do? Does she know the path her words have finally put him on?

“Morning,” Grizzop adds. There’s still that heavy undertone of disappointment and accusation carried over from last night. Hamid doesn’t blame him.

Briefly he wonders what justice means to the Cult of Artemis before dismissing that thought. It would probably be something much more practical and less like a guided ideal. It would be nothing like the Aphrodite’s vision of justice, which, despite being a blade to the heart, makes sense to Hamid in a way that justice never did before. However, something about what Azu told him last night is slightly incomplete, like there is something about it that all those who deserve the wrath of justice need to discover for themselves.

With heavy feet and a heavier head, Hamid sits. A servant puts a plate down in front of him, but he ignores it. He’s not hungry. Instead, Hamid stares at the plate like it’s the most interesting thing in the world, despite having seen it more times than any reasonable person would care to count. The other three sit in silence, the gaze of the Paladin’s boring into the top of Hamid’s head. He can feel it, that stare, like it looks into his soul and sees the terrible things he’s done. That mass writhes in his stomach, rising to catch in his throat. Not that he was going to say anything.

No, that’s not right. Hamid had something to tell them, something that he’d thought about all night. It wasn't his own mistakes, he wasn't going to tell them about that, but rather what he's going to do next. When he’d decided on it, he’d felt lighter, like he was making the right choice. He’d felt like he was doing right by justice. But now, in the moment, the words catch and die, leaving them all in an uncomfortable and awkward silence. It’s so awkward that even Sasha notices it weaving between the four of them.

“So, how was your discussion last night, guys?” She asks, not really breaking the tension in the air.

“I don’t know. How was it, Hamid?” Grizzop says. His gaze intensifies to the point where Hamid has to look up at them all.

They all stare back, accusations and disappointment in the Paladin’s eyes. Sasha just looks at him with more curiosity than anything else, an outsider observing Hamid messing up again.

Hamid opens his mouth, and the words claw their way back down his throat. He can’t say it. He can’t. Everything he thought about, everything he considered, everything he knows he deserves becomes locked in that swirling mess in his chest that he’s too nervous to speak about. The first step is always the hardest, and this is no exception.

Sasha leans back, her own involvement and perceptions of Hamid’s mistake putting her on the edge of the conflict. Her expression is almost comforting, in a confused way that only someone who knows her would be able to tell.

“Maybe the thing is,” she says almost out of nowhere, although Hamid gets the feeling that she’s trying to help, trying to break the heavy air of the room in the only way she knows how. “I can’t really understand, because… I don’t really have anyone that, like — I mean aside from you guys — that I would—oh and Gragg, and I suppose a few of my cousins.”

“And Bi Ming,” Hamid adds quietly, words finally making its past his lips.

He knows most of her past, the way she knows very little of his. And despite everything, even he could see how much she cared for that small gnome that Bertie swung around the room like a gyrocopter.

“Oh yeah, and Bi Ming. But like, I mean the thing is, if any of them did stuff that needed to get ‘em in prison, like… I mean… Gragg didn’t start out as a bouncer for nothing, you know, like, that’d be quite hard to cover up what he’s… well, you know, what he’s done. Maybe it’s something about families, it’s a bit of a mystery, I guess…”

Her words trail off into silence as the Paladin’s still look at Hamid with unchanging eyes. They never went to Other London, those names that mean everything to Sasha mean nothing to them. But Hamid understands, and that’s enough. Whether it was Sasha’s words breaking some of the tension, or the fact that he’s already spoken once, Hamid feels that lock on his voice vanish. He’s still terrified, still so nervous that he feels sick, but it’s enough to get him started.

Hamid takes a deep breath in and a deep breath out, readying himself for this conversation. It’s what he deserves after all.

“I… I…” Hamid begins, stumbling over the words. This was so much harder than the speeches practiced in the dark. “I think I should sit the next mission out.”

That sentence tumbles out of him, spilling onto the table. Jaws drop open a fraction and the room goes deadly silent, all eyes fixed on Hamid in shock. Was this not what they were expecting? Did they think that Hamid deserves worse? He knows he does.

He also knows that they don’t deserve his lies, but it’s the only way that justice can be done.

“I know what I did was wrong. I know that…” he continues, stumbling once again. He needs to get this out, needs to explain before he loses his grip on the words. “And I accept that I did the wrong thing, it’s just… just… My family needs me and with everything going on, I need to stay here with them for now. It won’t be forever, just one mission, and only after we’ve cured Sasha. I wouldn’t leave until you’re not undead anymore. It’s just that…”

“You’re running away,” Grizzop interrupts, staring at him with an intensity that Hamid didn’t think possible.

It’s clear he’s disappointed, very disappointed in Hamid’s decision.

“I’m not,” Hamid responds.

He thought Grizzop would understand, being a Paladin and all that, especially if Azu had told him that Hamid deserved it. This isn’t about running; this is about justice. This is about what he deserves. But then again, this is about Aphrodite’s version of justice, all soft lines and emotions. Not like what Hamid imagines Grizzop’s version of justice is.

“Are you coming with us?” Grizzop asks.

“No.”

“Then you’re running.”

“I just need time to think,” Hamid pleads back.

He needs time, needs to be away from the accusing stares of his friends, needs to be away from the oppressive influence of his family. As much as he wants to go with his friends, to be with them and help save the world, that’s not what he deserves. He deserves a small cell in a forgotten corner of England. He’s not running, not from this. He just needs a few moments alone to figure it the last pieces of it out. And to make sure that justice is served for the blood on his hands.

“Surely we could help with…” Azu begins to pipe up. She’s far more compassionate than Grizzop is.

“Azu,” Hamid interrupts softly. “I need to do this on my own. I’m sorry.”

She opens her mouth to respond, before closing it again. Are the words dying in her throat like Hamid’s were or is it just that she has nothing to say? Does she know or has she just realised that Hamid isn’t going to change his mind? Does she think this is what he deserves, even though she doesn’t know his crimes? Although, a small part of him wants her to keep arguing, to persuade him to still go with them. That wasn’t something Grizzop could do, only Azu, with her love and her blessings. But she doesn’t, she just looks at him with sadness and Hamid’s heart breaks further.

Still, justice is people get what they deserve.

The silence returns, an eddying lull that weaves around all of them. Tearing his gaze away from her, Hamid instead looks to Sasha. She’s studying him, trying to read him. In that moment, Hamid’s struck by the distance between them, even though he would call her a close friend, a true friend. It’s just that she’d always had much more in common with Zolf and Grizzop, their own two lives before this adventure worlds apart. He’s still staying until she’s cured, he couldn’t leave without making sure that she was alright. But maybe, in that moment, Sasha understands why he needs to leave. She doesn’t know the whole story and maybe she just sees the tension and the Paladins. But she’s run before, and she understands that sometimes people need to leave. Not that Hamid’s running. Running would mean staying with his family or with his friends. Running would mean avoiding the justice he deserves.

“You sure ‘bout all this?” Sasha asks after a moment.

No. That roiling sensation is worse now, a mess in his stomach. He’s not sure about anything, not sure about what he deserves or how he’s going to get it. He’s not even certain that Azu’s small phrase is enough to completely explain justice. There’s something about it that’s missing, something that Hamid knows in his heart that he needs to figure out himself. But that’s something that he doesn’t think he can figure out with L.O.L.O.M.G. Something he can’t figure out without stepping away from them all for a little bit. And to Hamid, that was enough, even if the sorrow at what is necessary breaks him.

“Yes.”

“Alright.”

Justice is people get what they deserve. Hamid would make sure of that.

Chapter Text

18 months/a few weeks later

Azu walks across the Al-Tahan estates, long since reclaimed by the desert and a light bustle of activity. If she was paying any attention to her surroundings, then she may have noticed the little things. The way that the desert created small peaks around the common paths, the small family of thorny lizards that have moved into the shade of a discarded statue, the way that Ed stares with wonder while Eldarion pushes everything behind a flat mask. But her mind is far away and dealing with too much. Grizzop and Sasha were… They were… They were gone. Azu had held Grizzop’s hand tight in her own, and yet it wasn’t enough. Even now, she can still feel it, still feel him slipping out of her grasp and into nothingness. Tiny fingers falling through her palm again and again and again. Never to come back.

He’d been next to Sasha when they’d left that place and their presence had been a hole when the rest of them had landed in Rome. The two of them slipping out of the grasps of those next to them, falling between the cracks of the spell and the gaps between the plains. Gone, probably forever. Not even Eldarion had known where they’d gone, though she’d had several theories. None that she could act on though, none that would have had the chance of saving Sasha and Grizzop. After their arrival back in Rome and their losses had been made apparent, Eldarion had collapsed. She’d completely ignored Einstein in favour of staring at the ground, light words running through her lips full of arcane theories that made no sense to Azu. That had been when the truth had sunken in, like a delayed blow to the heart. Azu had been struggling to keep the tears in since then.

She hadn’t known the pair of them for long, but she likes them. Liked them. They were good friends and better people, and Azu wishes that they were here with her. Grizzop would be sitting on her shoulders and Sasha would be walking beside her with quiet comments. Then the friends in her mind fall away, again and again and again, leaving Azu alone with the spaces in the air where they once were empty. Leaving her stuck in this apparent war-torn future with her new best friends gone. Each time it happens, Azu still reaches out, still tries to grab Grizzop’s legs or Sasha’s hands. And each time she makes contact long enough to feel them slipping away, long enough to feel them fall into the nothingness and leave Azu with knowledge that if she’d just held on tighter, they could have been here with her. She could have saved them.

But she didn't, and now she's alone.

The loss of Grizzop and Sasha was enough to keep her mind off Einstein’s main revelation beyond how much time she’d lost. The revelation that half the world had fallen to some sort of infection that they still knew very little about, that the Meritocrats had practically vanished, and that the Harlequins were filling in the power vacuum that they had left behind. The uninfected were fighting back, but had been slowly losing to a force they couldn’t figure out how to beat. A force that could infect them without any indication as how they did it. Apparently, her family is fine as the fighting hadn’t spread to Kenya yet, but Europe had fallen, and Cairo was nothing more than a forward base, its inhabitants fleeing the war and the sandstorms. If Azu had been looking anywhere other than her own grief, then she might have seen the slightly ruined ghost town beyond the large gates. But she doesn’t, her mind still locked on the ghosts on her shoulders and in her shadows. Ghosts that keep falling away again and again and again.

Without realising it, Azu steps through the threshold and into a small kitchen around the side of the house. Compared to the outside, it looks like it's been decently cared for, the place clean and sparking with a few people standing around and talking. One person appears to be making some form of a soup, hearty aromas filling the space around her.

“Whoa, this place looks well manky on the outside, but it’s actually alright inside. Who lives here?” Ed pipes up from beside her, staring at the ceilings far too tall for the halfling family that used to live here.

“The Al-Tahan’s I thought,” Azu responds, head and mind still lost in her loss.

Still, she looks up to stare at the ceiling in almost a mirror of Ed. Numbly, she wonders where the Al-Tahan’s are; if they were somewhere deeper in this house or if they’d moved elsewhere, fleeing like the rest of their city. They were rich enough to have another house, that was something rich families had? In her mind's eye, the room shifts slightly to become what it once was, the ghostly images of servants moving around as Azu looks through the cupboards for Sasha after she’d gone missing. With that memory, all thoughts of everything else is gone, the grief returning in a fresh wave and the fingers slipping through her hand once again.

Never again would she have to look for her in places far too small for a creature to fit. Sasha was gone.

While all this was going on, Einstein wass speaking with someone by the door, and as much as Azu tries to ignore it, she can't. She can still hear the Arabic of Einstein’s distinctive voice.

“So, I’m going to lead them in slowly. Maybe give them a little bit of space.”

Then he gestures to the group, and Azu numbly follows into the rest of the house. It opens out before her, no-longer the echo of the past she once knew.

The sudden change is finally enough to snap her out of her own mind and back to the present. Despite having stayed in this place only a few weeks ago, the change is drastic. Wait… no… it’s been 18 months since Azu was here last. Still, it’s hard to imagine, her mind stuck on her own timeline and not that of the strange demi-plane. Gone is the quiet bustling of servants, the air of grief, and the shine of a family far too rich. The people that now sit in elegant chairs and type or move around the large spaces have a purpose, adorned in a variety of clothing indicating a range of skillsets as they deliver messages and formulate reports, planning the next moves. Or at least, Azu imagines that’s the purpose behind their stride, having never been involved in a war or an operation or this type before. The air of the entrance is filled with noise, talking voices mingling. Although, as she steps in, they all go quiet, faces turning to look at her. Azu guesses they heard what happened, or maybe it’s Eldarion’s presence. She would have been missing, presumed dead, for the longest time and Azu was vaguely aware that she had held a high position within the Harlequins.

As they walk, Einstein starts talking again.

“Okay… So… I’m going to take you to a room and I’m going to give you a little more info. Then we’re going to meet Curie. Okay?”

Azu nods, a movement copied by Eldarion while Ed is too busy being distracted by the sights to notice. It makes sense. Einstein had told them a little about what had happened to the world in their absence, but Azu had been in too much of a panicked haze to absorb it all. But now she finds her mind focusing on the little things, a familiar looking chaise lounge with a stack of typewriters on it, a human enveloped by a chair too soft to be practical, a bust neatly placed on the floor so that it’s stand could be requisitioned for more practical purposes. The people bustle and continue to stare as they walk past, and Azu is certain now that they’re staring at Eldarion in shock and suspicion. Different races and genders mingle and whisper as they stop in their tracks. Subconsciously, Azu scans the faces of the smaller ones, looking for any that look familiar. Looking for one face in particular, although any of his family would do as well. She doesn’t see it.

“Where are the Al-Tahan’s?” she asks, not really focusing on the question.

“That’s what the little room’s for,” Einstein responds without stopping.

Azu’s mind drops away again, possibilities swirling. It could be anything, any reason for that answer. But there’s one reason that's louder than the rest, one that makes too much sense. They’re gone, they’re dead, they’re casualties of the war that she’s been thrown into. Why else would a family tied into the Meritocracy give over their house to the organisation famously vying for the Meritocracy's downfall? And Azu, she’s lost the last friend she had met on these sands only a few weeks ago. Her heart constricts and she closes her eyes, trying to stop the tears from falling. Her feet stop moving, locked into the house of another dead friend.

That’s the moment Ed walks into her with a loud clang that echoes through the house. Einstein stops and turns, seemingly realising for the first time what she’s thinking.

“Oh, they’re fine,” he says quickly, turning back to walk away. “That’s a social pho-par isn’t it. Yeah… the family’s fine… They went inland.”

A little bit of the knot in her chest unties. It’s good to hear that the family is safe, that one of her friends made it out of this mess alright. For the briefest moment, she wonders how the Al-Tahans are doing, particularly Hamid. Despite making a pretty big mistake, Hamid hadn’t seemed too bad and after the disaster with his family, he had sounded like he would grow and change. Perhaps he would have if everything had gone to plan, and she hadn’t lost 18 months. Although, maybe it was for the best that he’d stepped out for the Damascus mission. The squizards obviously thought that he had left for good, so he hadn’t had a hostage taken and they’d rushed off to rescue the hostages without needing to pick him up on the way.

Azu hopes that wherever he is, Hamid is doing well.

She would have to find him after this, she'll have to track down his family and tell him what happened to Sasha and Grizzop. The thought brings a tight knot to her throat, as he’d very clearly cared about the pair of them, especially Sasha. Would he blame Azu for losing her grip on them? Would he look at her the same way she looks at herself? Would he scream accusations or just go so very quiet? Probably the latter, thinking about it. Either way, it would break her already broken heart and add another ghost to her shadow. After all, it's not like Hamid would want anything to do with the person responsible for losing their friends. The person who couldn't hold on for a few more seconds.

Numbly, Azu lets herself be led up the stairs by Einstein, the people still parting around her and her companions so she doesn't have to pay much attention to avoiding them. She remembers walking up these stairs a few weeks ago, looking for Sasha in what seems like a lifetime ago. It was only a few hours ago that she’d had her friends beside her and now they were all lost, all gone and leaving Azu alone. She tries not to cry at the memory, tries not to think about the fingers falling through her grip and the ghosts beside her. Einstein leads the three of them into a small room that was once a bedroom, now filled with boxes.

She sits down on the bed, Ed collapsing down beside her. If he’d been talking at all during their walk through the house, she’d missed it. But now he seems silent. Eldarion, just stands, looking at Einstein expectantly. For some reason, Azu gets the feeling that while they were colleagues, they weren’t exactly friends. Through the silence of Einstein wringing his hands, Azu hears a slight tut from her corner of the room.

“As you can see, Chiro’s kind of gone… you can’t really live here anymore,” Einstein beings, choosing to ignore Eldarion completely. “So, everyone moves further inland, you know? Any who, the Al-Tahan’s moved further inland but they… but they donated this estate to basically… to Curie to help out with all the uh… all the stuff. And it’s a pretty cool base, I mean no-one looks for us, you know place is pretty much abandoned around here. So it’s kind of comfy cosy, you know? They had me teleporting in a bunch of stuff and people, that was kind of boring, but you know, as a result it’s pretty cool.”

“Einstein,” Eldarion cuts in, interrupting the spiralling tangent he’s beginning to fall into and slightly startling him.

“Alright, alright…” Einstein responds. He takes a breath and thinks about his next words for a moment. “Curie… doesn’t know… you’re here yet.”

“How could she?” Azu says. They’d only just arrived and while the name was familiar for some reason, she couldn’t place it. She gets the impression that she’s fairly important though, not someone Azu would ever have had a reason to meet or interact with.

The name means something to Eldarion though. This Curie was probably someone in the Harlequins like Einstein and Eldarion then, which Azu had suspected given everything. In that case, why not bring in just Eldarion? Why did Azu and Ed need to come along?

“There’s a reason I’m asking you to wait here so I can tell her… and then… we’ll see…okay?”

“Why would it matter, why would she know who we are?”

“Your friends met her in Prague,” Eldarion says from her corner.

“Yeah. They have history,” adds Einstein with a shrug.

Grizzop had spoken of the zombie incursion in Prague. She doesn’t remember too much about it, except that’s where the person that nobody liked had died. So, this Curie woman was from Prague then? Although why she would want to talk to Azu is anyone’s guess. Maybe it was because of Sasha and Grizzop? As she's thinking this, Einstein leaves and Azu is back to being alone with her thoughts and her grief. In the background, she’s vaguely aware of Ed prattling on about something, or someone named Fredrick. She’s vaguely aware that Eldarion is also not listening to him, her hands wringing around and through each other. There’s a nervousness to the motion, combined with a small worry. Despite Sasha’s avoidance of her, Azu can tell that Eldarion cared about that little stabby woman.

The silence grows heavier and heavier, eventually Ed’s prattle dying into nothing. It smothers the three of them, catching their grief and loss and keeping it close. Neither Eldarion nor Azu have anything to say. Azu can’t say how long she sits there, thinking of Sasha and Grizzop, cant say how long she keeps feeling them slip through her fingers again and again and again. She just keeps thinking about how they would react if they were here, keeps thinking about where they could even be, after falling into that void between places.

The creak of the door snaps her out of her thoughts. Einstein’s back. Three faces look up at him as he peaks around the door.

“Okay… she’s sure happy to see you,” Einstein says, not coming in the room.

“Really?” The words fall out of Azu’s mouth before she can stop them.

“I mean, everyone thought you were dead.”

As he says this, his eyes fall on Eldarion, and Azu is struck with the sensation that Curie and Eldarion are close. That Eldarion’s return is a bigger deal than Einstein is letting on. Azu stands, might as well get this over with. she might as well see what else has happened and gone wrong. Who else she's lost. She follows Einstein and Eldarion out the room and back into the house, not looking at where she is walking. There’s a feeling in the pit of her stomach now, mingling with the grief, although it takes a moment to place. Frustration. Frustration at the inaction, at the loss of her friends, at Einstein dragging them all over this house. She’s spent all this time since she came back just sitting with the ghosts of the people she cares about, and now she tired of it. Maybe it’s just the grief, but Azu wants to hit something. Or maybe she just wants to get the next bit of bad news over and done with.

She doesn’t even notice that she’s walking through the upper level of the house until they stop and Azu is in front of a a plain door that screams of importance. The wood is fine, although maybe lacking a polish, and there is the hint of a golden inlay around the edges. Einstein takes a few steps back from the entrance.

“I should probably… I mean… um… you can go in without me?” he says, gesturing at the door. “Like… cool cool. I’ll be round. I’m going to start, you know, bringing people into the house from the guard house. But I need to let people know that I’m about to bring thirty people into the house… uh yeah.”

Then he scurries away without a goodbye.

Eldarion moves to wrap her knuckles against the door, but Azu gets there first. Not bothering to knock, she opens the door and walks into what is probably going to be the next bad thing today. The woman behind the looks up from the desk where she is sitting, and Azu is struck by how old and tired she looks. Azu would put her at the later end of middle aged, except there's an air around her and embedded into her features that makes her look far older than she actually is. There's grey running through her hair and deep worry lines set into her face. She can see the tiredness under the eyes and the weariness in the expression. She can see the weight of this world on her shoulders and the loss in her posture. It looks like a woman who’s aged too many years in too short a time.

Then Eldarion walks in the room and a spark goes off behind Curie’s eyes. Despite her scar, Curie’s lips twitch into the smallest glimmer of a relieved smile, something almost youthful compared to the aged woman in front of her. It’s contained, tempered by both the last year and years of not making whatever is between them overly visible, but it’s still there. Love. It weaves through the air between them, pure and simple, like a cold bath that pushes out every other emotion for a minute. But maybe Azu's the only one who feels it, part of her gift from Aphrodite, as no-one else seems to react to it. Although, she feels Eldarion go very still and stare at the woman before her. She guesses that she not only sees the toll of the last year, but everything underneath it. Everything that's the same and everything that’s changed in the weeks she’s been gone. In normal circumstances, that feeling in the air between the two women would have been a blessing for Azu, but now it just reminds her of the holes in her own heart. The hands intertwined in hers that fall away again and again and again.

Curie takes a deep breath and stands, resting her hand on the edge of desk in front of her and pushing any form of expression from her face. It’s not very successful. She looks at the group, trying to contain the hope that maybe what she’s seeing is real and not believing that it is. Behind her the window looks out into the sandy desert that may or may not have once been Chiro. From the brief glances outsides that Azu's payed attention to, she can’t tell where the city used to be.

“Would you humour me if I asked you a couple of incredibly important questions quickly and then I will answer any question that you have?” Curie says, still keeping her eyes locked on Eldarion. “Did any of you discover anything useful about the Simulacrum while you were there? There’s a chance…”

The Simulacrum? Really? That’s what Curie’s interested in. Azu can’t see why, although maybe a robot army would be useful against whatever this infection Einstein spoke of is. She might not have known about what happened to the other, but surely Einstein told her about why they dashed off to Rome. Surely she knew that there was no research in Rome, that their investigations had caused their mad dash to rescue their friends. That maybe, just maybe, a magical robot wouldn't do too well in that godless place twisted by the evils of the past.

“We didn’t really have…” Azu interrupts curtly.

“Nothing?” Curie interrupts back, almost disappointed in a way that makes Azu’s blood boil. “It was a long shot. It’s fine.”

Her friends are lost, and Curie thinks that it’s fine? Does she really thinks that the Simulacrum is what really mattered after the last week? What about all the work Sasha and Grizzop did on it before they left? Does she really think it all amounted to nothing in the end? They'd made enough progress to get their friends kidnapped, to get her friends scattered into the nothingness between planes. And yet Curie stands before her and calls it nothing, like they'd done nothing.

“We had made significant progress before then,” she responds, voice steady and full of anger. “I assume you know what happened in Damascus?”

“Yes.” There’s a curtness to her tone that snaps back at Azu, indicating that this line of questioning is over. “We had an agent there update us.”

Who? Grizzop had spoken of a rather annoying ring of want-to-be revolutionaries while he was trying to get to Rome. It must have been them, although any story she got from them wouldn't have been the whole truth. When Grizzop told Azu about them, he'd been far too annoyed by their methods to speak highly of their competence. Yet Curie is trusting their story over hers, not that her story after she'd left would have been complete. They'd been too preoccupied for reunions. That thought lies heavy in her heart. She should have gotten the full story from Grizzop, should have sat around their small fire in Rome and held onto her friend for a moment longer. Or just held tighter onto him.

“I need to confirm something else,” Curie continues, ignoring Azu and turning back to Eldarion. “Our enemy has a habit of sending back people we thought were dead, only to have them turn on us.”

That would explain Curie's reservation, the hope behind her expression that doesn’t quite believe that what she’s seeing is real, even though she desperately wishes that it is. Azu briefly wonders how many times she’s been hurt before, how many friends she’s seen return only to lose them again. Azu would give anything to see Sasha and Grizzop again, although if she did and it turned out to be a trick, it would break her. She would give anything to see them again, to know that they’re alright, except that. Finding then losing them again would break her. 

Curie takes a breath and ignores everyone else in the room like the two older women were the only ones that mattered. Like she’s hoping that whatever answer she gets is the right one.

“Eldarion, what happened when we first met?”

“You walked into me,” Eldarion says in a low voice that carries through the weaving silence. “I was standing in the courtyard of the University of Prague, and you were going through some of your student’s papers as you walked. Neither of us noticed each other until it was too late. The papers flew everywhere, including into the teleportation circle, but neither of us seemed to care. I thought you were beautiful. Then we both came to our senses, and we watched several pages of someone’s doctorate paper find themselves suddenly be transported down to the streets below. Luckily several of the students ran to help and we officially met at the faculty meeting a week later.”

There’s a small smile on her face as she says this, one that’s mirrored on Curie’s face. It’s not quite open, but it’s more hopeful than before, like she’s finally letting herself believe it's them.

“I have to ask one thing of you,” Curie says, suddenly looking down at the desk beneath her fingers like the next words are going to be more important. “And I need you to understand that I’ve asked this of everyone. The fact that you’re already meeting with me without someone else checking you is the largest courtesy I could offer you. I’m afraid I need you to take you’re clothes off.”

What?! Why? It seemed such an odd request. Then Azu remembers that Einstein mentioned something about blue veins back in Rome. She must be checking for that? Maybe? Was that the best security measure that they could come up with. What about the clerics and paladins, the healers capable of dealing with disease and infection. Didn't they have a better method. Then again, Einstein had implied that they were mostly in the dark about this, despite having fought it for a year. Eldarion seemed to have come to this conclusion before Azu does though, the rustling of her clothes indicating that she was about to comply with her request. Azu turns away, offering her a moment of privacy. A moment later, the small exclamation and the clanking of armour indicates that Ed has also finally realised what’s happening. Maybe she should have just grabbed him, especially since he’s now looking at her confused by this turn of events. She responds with the the classic, 'I'll explain in a minute' expression that Ed might not have understood. For some reason, it feels wrong to speak right now.

Azu waits until the rustling stops, starts, and stops once again, indication that Eldarion was fully clothed once again, before turning back around.

“Thank you,” Curie says. She looks towards Ed and Azu, as if finally realising that Ed’s still completely lost. “To explain, there are some signs that we have learnt to recognise were someone is in the late stages if turning.”

“Ah,” Ed responds as Curie turns to Azu.

Azu gets the feeling she knows what’s coming.

“I have to ask the same thing of you Azu. I’ve been speaking with Fairhands, is there anything…”

“Yeah, sure sure.” Azu interrupts, letting her frustration seep into her voice.

Surely Curie knows that they’ve been stuck away from everything for the last year and a half. Surely, she can just ignore this and just get onto the next bit of bad news. Although the more rational parts of Azu’s mind knows that Curie’s being cautious, and that caution is probably for good reason. It still doesn’t make it any less frustrating. Fed up and eager for this particular test to be over so she can get to the next bit of bad news, she tells the tale of how she came to the church of Aphrodite and what happened to the person that brought her there. Compared to Eldarion, her words are a lot harsher and a lot more pointed. But it seems to be enough to verify her identity. She still has to disrobe after that though, Ed helping her when he could with her armour. The experience is extremely awkward and takes far to long before she is safely beneath the bright pink metal once again.

Curie remains expressionless throughout the whole ordeal, like this has long since stopped bothering her. It probably has, she's probably seen it done countless times before. That thought isn't a comfort to Azu as she realises that this procedure might just be a new normal for the world. Curie then nods in Ed’s direction, and it occurs to Azu that while Curie would know stories about Eldarion and Azu, she would have no idea who this man is. She wouldn’t know who to speak to about verifying his identity, about getting the stories only he would know.

“And has this man been in your sights since you’ve known him?” She asks instead, directing the question towards Azu and Eldarion.

“Yes.”

Wait, so this whole thing could have cut down by just confirming each other’s identities? Really. The frustration inside of Azu grows again. She’s sick of being here, she's sick of being trapped while the world is breaking. They’re going through all these checks and delays just so they get more bad news. Azu just wants Curie to lay it out straight, wants her to give her something to do. Or someone to hit. Letting her frustration simmer, she begins to help Ed out of his armour. It means that she doesn’t have to focus on the grief and anger. The uselessness about standing here and getting checked instead of doing something. Anything. Like before, she turns away, and when she starts hearing the clanking of armour, she turns back to help Ed. Once this is over, maybe they'll finally get the answers and the bad news. Maybe she'll finally get something to do, something to stop the grief that wallows in her heart and slips through her fingers.

While this is happening, Curie just stands there, impassive and smiling. Then the pair finish and Curie turns to Eldarion. With this, Azu gets the sense about what’s going to happen. Curie starts talking, telling a story about a faculty meeting that occurred that Eldarion was also a part of. It’s very detailed, and almost boring. But Eldarion nods along like the story is familiar to her, like this is genuinely Curie. Then she reaches towards the hem of her shirt and Azu turns away, trusting Eldarion with this. She makes sure to grab Ed this time as well.

It doesn’t take long before a small sound from Eldarion indicates that it’s alright to turn back around. Azu does to find Curie is now sitting in the chair behind that plain but ornately carved desk. Azu is suddenly aware of just how tired she looks. She hadn’t noticed before, but earlier there had been a hardness to Curie’s face, an expression that spoke of a long history protecting herself from the worst damage that hope could throw at her. Now it was gone, and the expression that had been left behind wasn’t quite a smile, nor was it relaxed, but it was definitely softer. It spoke of a lost hope, a building belief, and absolute weariness at everything. Suddenly, Azu finds that frustrating anger dying slightly. Before her was no-longer a solid wall that was refusing to give answers, but a woman far too tired for the life she’s found herself in and in desperate need of some self-care. Maybe she would find it now Eldarion was back. The bad news can wait, she can get that later. Right now, Curie needs help.

“How can we help?” Azu asks, not letting the others fill the silence with waiting. “How can we put this right?”

“That depends on what you want. There are three options,” Curie responds, crossing her arms across the table. “You could join the Harlequins; we could always use more people with your skillsets. Myself and the other Harlequins have been forced to step into a power vacuum that we would once have envied, in a situation that none of us desire.”

As she finishes, she looks over to Eldarion, a silent question between the pair of them. Azu’s pretty sure she knows what Curie’s asking, and what Eldarion’s response is. There’s more history in that look though, parts of a story that she’s not privy too. But it’s enough. The air twirls between them, gentle and warm.

“What about the Meritocrats?” Ed says from beside her.

It breaks her out of that feeling in the air, that whispering silence of hope and love. Azu glances to the man beside her who looks completely lost and confused in everything that’s happening. Then she realises that Ed probably grew up in a place that was under both the influence of the Meritocracy and its propaganda. Plus, given everything Azu knows about him, she’d be surprised if he even knew about the Harlequins.

For her part, Curie doesn’t act like this is an idiotic question and she’s right. Even if the Harlequins are clearly filling in the gap, it’s important to know where they stand in this new grand scheme of things. Where the Meritocracy and its forces stand in this new world.

“As it stands,” Curie says, still looking at Eldarion. “As far as our intelligence says, the rest of them may not be as in robust health as we might like in such a dire situation. So, they are having to consider their actions more carefully than they have been previously want to do. Our attempts to reach out have been rebuffed and they have done little to help. All you need to know is that the Meritocratic Forces are not your friend. They have been so heavily compromised to more a hinderance than a help.”

So, that's not an option then, not like Azu would have ever considered it. Having grown up in the mountains of Kenya and dedicating her life to the Church meant that wasn't exactly opinionated on the Meritocrats. They weren't a part of her life, although their laws regarding some healing items could be relaxed slightly. Although Apophis had been nice, had helped to save Sasha. And for that, Azu was grateful. She wonders if he is alright, what his stance on all this is. Not like it matter though. Azu pushes the thought from her mind as Curie finally looks towards the rest of them. The Meritocrats aren't important now. In that expression, Au can tell that she’s asking them if that’ll be the option that they all take. If they'll join her as one of her agents. Immediately, that option sits badly in her stomach, feeling instantly like the wrong choice. Maybe it’s because of her commitments to Aphrodite or maybe it’s because of her lost friends, but either way, this isn’t her path. Curie sees this when she looks to Azu, understanding.

“You know my answer already,” Eldarion says softly. Azu isn’t surprised.

“Oh no, I can’t,” Ed adds, breaking through the tenderness. “I have to get back to Fredrick. I am so late.”

“I assume this Fredrick is a member of the church of Apollo?” Curie says.

“He’s the best. He’s probably running the church by now.”

“We can send a message to the church, and after a week of quarantine we can send you back to them.”

“Quarantine?” Azu suddenly asks. This is the first time she’s heard anything about this, but she can imagine what it means. The thought sends a shiver down her spine.

It makes sense that they need to make sure that anyone new coming into populated areas isn’t infected. Still, a week isolated away from everyone, probably in a single room to conserve space, makes her skin crawl. Azu needs the sun, needs the wind in her face and the space to stand tall and free. It was lucky the temple of Aphrodite had wide, open halls of healing, but there were some rooms down the back that seemed to close in on her. Walls that pulled in tighter and tighter until she could find an excuse to burst out into the light filtering through the stained-glass windows. Could she do that for a week?

“It only takes seven days and we need to be careful. The threat we face is dangerous and too many places have been lost to a single enemy,” Curie explains, turning to Azu.

Azu doesn’t know if Curie can see what she’s thinking. Regardless, Curie takes a breath, and continues talking.

“I can do the same for you Azu. Contact Fairhands and you can return to the Cult of Aphrodite. They have been very helpful in providing support and relief to those effected. The churches have held themselves up better than most, although they have not yet found a way to formally detect or heal someone who has turned. But at least they have additional tools at their disposal.”

Azu won’t deny that she desperately wants to check up on the others. To see Fairhands and the rest and see how they’ve been doing. To make sure that they're alright. To help the world through Aphrodite’s name, like she was called to do all those years ago. She can feel that option burning warm in her chest and in the pendant around her neck. A hug from her Goddess, the indication that this would be a good path for her to take. Probably the right choice of the three offered. The words form in her throat, a confirmation that this is what she wants, before falling silent. Curie had only given her two options, and she must know that Azu isn't going to sit on the side lines and not help. Therefore, there was something else, another option. She should hear it before making her choice. She might as well see exactly what paths she can take. Even if she already knows which ones she’s been called to walk down. Curie sighs, the weariness catching up with her expression once again.

“You said there was three options,” Azu says.

“I did,” Curie responds quietly. Her back straightens, and the elements of Curie that Azu’s come to recognise as genuine fall back into the facade of a leader. “I believe you know Oscar Wilde. Wilde left the Meritocracy shortly before it collapsed. He is essentially his own agent, although there have been exchanges of beneficial information between us. I am not going to tell you about what at this stage, but I can put you in touch with him soon if you wish.”

Oscar Wilde was still alive? That was wonderful news. Azu remembers the man, despite only having known him for a few weeks. He was loud and colourful and a presence that hid his true emotions and the bags under his eyes. Azu remembers when Sasha sat with him under the starlight on that glass dome, speaking with terrible puns and wordplay far too twisted for Azu to follow. It had been awkward and kind and one of the few times Sasha had been completely comfortable with attention. He’d also apparently fallen under some form of a curse, plagued with nightmares that didn’t let him sleep. Guiltily, Azu realises that she hadn’t even thought about the man since returning to the future. She’ll have to tell him about Sasha and Grizzop, although Curie had mentioned sharing information so perhaps, he already knew.

Curie continues without noticing Azu’s thoughts.

“The work that you were doing prior to your disappearance is ongoing, and Wilde is working under the assumption that it is related to this current crisis.”

Wait!? Related?! How does an army of replicating robots relate to an infection that’s plaguing the world? It doesn’t make sense. Eldarion gets the words out a fraction of a second before Azu does.

“Do you think it is?”

“I don’t know. Most people think it isn’t,” Curie responds with a tone that’s too practiced being flat.

Azu gets the sense that Curies opinions are different from the rest of the Harlequins. There's an element to her voice that suggests that Oscar might have received a fair amount of flack and laughter towards his investigations from the people that he's associating with now. That he's seen as more of a joke than a viable option. Still, while the rest of the Harlequins might not have such favourable opinions on Oscar’s work, Curie at least sees something in it. That maybe she thinks he's onto something, as much as she doesn't want to admit it. Not that she could stop him, not since he was apparently an independent agent. There's also an element of bad blood in the air, on that probably comes with a former Meritocratic agent having to work with a leader of the Harlequins. That definitely wouldn't have helped the general opinion of him. Curie continues to speak, as if explaining herself.

“The route this crisis took followed your own, and there are certain organic elements that are too similar to be ignored. But correlation does not equal causation, and it’s a long shot. So far, his and our investigations hasn’t given us any further insights or answers. I believe there was a notebook?”

The notebook, the small black thing full of big ideas and complicated magic. They had been following the clues hidden in the pages as the rest of them had chased the Simulacrum across the world. Then they’d gone to Rome because people had noticed, and everything had gone wrong. Azu remembers the notebook, Hamid had originally had it before giving it to Sasha, and Sasha was… Sasha was gone.

“Sasha had it,” Azu says quietly.

Curie nods understandingly, like she was expecting such an answer. Or expecting the notebook to be out of play permanently.

“I see,” Curie continues. “Wilde was under the impression that a device had been built to counteract the Simulacrum. It would be useful to obtain that device as it might be able to be modified for our current war and if the notebook had survived, then we might have been able to build another. I was informed that such a device was already being built by the Cult of Hephaestus, but they claim have no knowledge of this, and the person charged with building it swore adamantly that he’d never received such a request and has since disappeared.”

Azu remembers this, remembers that Grizzop had gone to the Church of Hephaestus following the designs in that notebook. And if the biological components were similar, it was a slim hope that it might be a solution. Given the situation, any hope would have been good enough. Not that Azu has enough mechanical knowledge to counteract this line of thinking. If that device is now missing though, if the Cult is saying that they don’t have it, then that’s worrying. It means the churches aren’t safe, that Azu’s friends aren’t safe. The idea makes her sick to her stomach. She swallows down that feeling to catch the end of Curie’s words, unsure if she’s missed any of it.

“Of course, this is one avenue of investigation of countless, and many others have yielded better results.”

What Curie’s implying is clear. If Azu wants, she can go to Oscar Wilde instead. She can abandon the church and follow a friend with a wild lead. But with what Curie’s said about the Cult of Hephaestus, can she really abandon Aphrodite? She needs to go back to the temple, she needs to follow her faith and see the path that her Goddess has laid before her. Besides, Curie had implied that Oscar was following a far-fetched lead, while her own church had been doing good and helping the people, had been making a difference in this broken world. She needs to go back to them. Azu's suddenly aware once again of the pendant around her neck that comfortingly glows like warm spot in this world of bad news and lost friends. Friends who slip through her fingers again and again and again. There isn’t a choice, she needs to be around her faith. Maybe it could help her deal with their loss. Aphrodite was good at healing the heart.

“I’ll…” Azu begins, the words falling dying before she can say them.

Why does this feel like a betrayal, why does this feel like the wrong choice? Why do Sasha and Grizzop’s fingers grow fainter in her own hand, like this time they are slipping away for good. Oscar Wilde and the Simulacrum, this is what they had been working on together before Azu and Sasha had fled to Rome and Grizzop had stayed behind to finish the job. That was it, Grizzop had stayed behind, he’d put the mission before his own personal feelings. That was why it felt so wrong. That was what the lump of betrayal and guilt was in her stomach, writhing and catching the words in her throat. Leaving now felt like abandoning their memory, the last mission of the friends she’s lost. 

She knows what’s right. What she has to do. Is it her imagination, or does the pendant grow warmer with her decision?

“I’ll go to Wilde.”

There’s a flash of shock, like that was not the answer that Curie was expecting. There’s a rustle of fabric to her left, Eldarion turning to look at her in what Azu imagines is surprise.

“Alright,” Curie says after a moment. “You’ll leave tomorrow.”

Tomorrow. Tomorrow she’ll keep following the path that she’s been left by her friends. She doesn’t know where she’s going, what she’ll be doing, or what lies in her future. But tomorrow, she’ll be back on a path.

Hold on, didn’t Curie mention quarantine? Surely Azu would get to spend a week here first, catching up with the hostages and making sure everyone was alright.

“Don’t you need me to wait seven days first?” she asks.

“No,” Curie responds. “Let’s just say that Wilde is better at handling anyone who’s turned than just about anyone have these days. He got very good at spotting turned Meritocratic agents. Quite the eye for it, it would seem. Besides, there is another independent agent that we’ve been working with has expressed an interest in also joining Wilde. He comes out of quarantine tomorrow and we can’t spare the teleports for two trips.”

That makes sense. Tomorrow it was then. That gives Azu tonight to spend with the people who had been taken, old and new friends. To hear and share the stories of Sasha and Grizzop. And tomorrow, she’d leave with Einstein to wherever her future lay. She can't think about much else as she's led with Ed and Eldarion back to the gatehouse, as it was deemed too much of a security risk for all the new people to come into one of the Harlequin's main bases. They were going to spend the week in the gatehouse before being sent home, or sent to wherever they wanted to go. Azu gets the impression that while Ed would be heading back to the Church of Apollo, some of the others wanted to stay and fight. That some of them wanted to carry on the memory of their lost friends in a way that would honour their memory like Azu was, and that they would spend the week figuring out what that means. Except Azu wouldn't be there to see that, instead she was going to be whisked away alone on an urgent mission to reconnect with a friend she hasn't seen in a week. But she wouldn't be going alone, there was someone else going. That was why she didn't have to be locked in this too small room for the whole week. That was why she got to leave tomorrow.

It wasn’t until well into the night that she realised that she’d never asked about who she was going with.