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It starts with Marcy asking, quietly, “Can we talk?”
They’ve just gotten back from the third temple. It’s late– late enough that the moon is already overhead, and the frogs are all drooping against Anne’s sides as she nudges them awake and towards the farmhouse. Grime himself looks eager to retire, and Sasha would be lying if she said that the events of the temple hadn’t tired her to the brink of exhaustion.
But it’s Marcy.
It’s Marcy, and Marcy has a soft, wistful look in her eyes, and they had barely gotten the chance to catch up, and how can Sasha say no to her like this?
“Sure, whatever,” she says with a small smile, and turns her head to look at Grime. “Can you check in without me Grimesy?”
Grime gives her the most skeptical look, but he nods, taking his and Sasha’s bags and making a shooing gesture. “Fine, fine, I’ll go find a room,” he says, and he’s still looking at her with that flat, deadpan stare, and Sasha turns away with a burning embarrassment.
“Lead the way, Marmar,” she tells Marcy.
Marcy smiles all shyly, and she wanders off towards the frog farmhouse, so trusting that Sasha’s going to follow her. Marcy has always been too trusting for her own good, she’s never questioned Sasha’s authority like Anne has, and right now, maybe that’s just what Sasha needs.
It turns out, Marcy isn’t going to the farmhouse itself. Instead, she treads towards a wagon perched in the yard, one that has a sign barely legible in the night and yet Sasha would recognize the fancy little doodle of Marcy herself anywhere, she remembers the days of making sticky notes with all of their silly faces on them and plastering them everywhere around the school.
“Welcome to the Fwagon!” Marcy beams, and she stops in front of the doorway, widening her arms in a gesture of pride. “It’s not much, I know, but it’s been my home away from home while in Wartwood. It’s cozier inside, come on!”
She sounds so happy, Sasha can only snort and follow her inside the wagon.
Sure enough, the wagon is… cozy. There’s books scattered everywhere, and one of Marcy’s capes is sticking out of the dresser, implying that it’s full of her stuff. There’s a box of weapons in the corner for no apparent reason, and a table with a well-drafted layout of Newtopia, much to Sasha’s immediate delight.
Oh Marmar. You make this way too easy.
“This place is… cute!” Sasha takes a seat on the bed, and Marcy does too, feet swinging against the baseboards. “This is where you’ve been hanging out?”
“Something like that,” Marcy says, shyly, and she unclips her cape, allowing it to drop behind her as she yawns. “Anne really likes the Plantars, so I didn’t want to bother her.”
“Tell me about it,” Sasha snorts, and she leans backwards on the bed with a dramatic sigh. “Something tells me that’s not what you wanted to talk about, though.”
“No,” Marcy confesses with a wry little smile. “I wanted to ask… what happened?”
Sasha blinks.
“Between you and Anne, I mean,” Marcy clarifies, and she’s shuffling in place now, all anxious, her expression going totally cloudy. “Anne wouldn’t tell me much except that you two fought, but it was clearly something worth talking about, and… I want to help you guys start over, I really do! But I can’t do that unless I know what happened.”
It’s such a Marcy thing to say. Marcy’s always been interested in their point of conflict, because she’s always been interested in fixing it. She doesn’t want them to fight, so she’s more agreeable with Sasha’s suggestions and more likely to gently nudge Anne in the right direction should Anne start toeing the line, and that’s one of the many reasons Sasha adores her so much.
“It was bad,” she admits, with a vulnerability that scares even herself. “Grime had promised that if I helped him take down a frog rebellion, he’d help me find you and a way home. I didn’t realize Anne had allied herself so strongly with said frogs– or that she’d stand up to me to defend them. It was… not my proudest moment.”
Marcy’s just staring at her now, eyes wide with something unrecognizable.
“I wasn’t the one who planted bombs though, that was all her frogs.” Sasha snorts, and she leans backwards, staring up at the ceiling. “It… was a mess. Anne has every right to still be angry with me.” That, too, is a vulnerable admission, because she doesn’t even want to think about the idea of Anne still hating her for her mistakes, isn’t that why she keeps shoving it to the back of her mind?
And she doesn’t talk about her sacrifice, doesn’t talk about the feeling of Anne’s hand growing sweaty in her own, the pull of gravity on her legs, or how it felt to fall and fall and fall, so certain that she was gone, that she had done one good thing in her life and let herself die for someone else, someone she loved.
Sasha’s snapped out of her thoughts when a hand brushes her own, and she wasn’t even aware of the way her eyes had been misting, or the way she had lost herself staring into space. A hand brushes her own, and Marcy’s looking at her the way she always has, with that awe and adoration that Sasha has grown to crave, and fuck, it almost stings, seeing her just so stupidly trusting.
“You came here to make amends though, right?” Marcy asks, solemnly, as she takes Sasha’s hand in her own, curling both of her own hands around it in a gesture she’s only done with Anne before, and that shouldn’t make Sasha’s chest ache the way it does. “You made some mistakes, yeah, but… that doesn’t mean you’re a bad person, Sash, or someone unworthy of forgiveness. As long as you’re trying, I think Anne will forgive you, because she cares about you. I care about you.”
Sasha kisses her.
She doesn’t know what came over her in that moment. Marcy had just looked at her so adoringly, and she’s so forgiving, and kinder than Sasha probably deserves considering she’s planning on deceiving her, and it’s easy, so easy, to use the leverage of Marcy’s hands enclosed around her own to pull her into a kiss.
It’s not Sasha’s first kiss either. She’s too popular for that– back home, her time had been worth as much as rubies and sapphires, she leveraged her affection like gold, she’s no stranger to the feeling of lips against her own, but she’s never actively liked the person she was kissing, not until now.
So she kisses her, and Marcy makes a muffled noise of surprise but it isn’t long before she’s releasing Sasha’s hand to lean upwards, bracing herself on Sasha’s shoulders and kissing back. Sasha wraps an arm around her waist to keep her steady, Marcy’s fingers dig against Sasha’s armor, and this isn’t at all what Sasha had expected when she followed Marcy here for a talk but she’s here, regardless.
Eventually, Marcy breaks the kiss to gulp greedily for air, her eyes shining as she stares at Sasha with red painted across her face. “Wow,” she breathes, “I’ve never been kissed before.”
“I was your first?” Sasha asks, and she smiles sweetly. “Aww, Marmar, that’s so cute.”
Marcy’s blush only deepens, and she looks like she wants to run and hide, but she doesn’t – she just stares at Sasha’s lips very determinedly. “I liked it,” she admits shyly, and she tilts her head, giving Sasha the biggest puppy-dog eyes that Sasha’s ever seen. “Can I kiss you again?”
“Shit, Mar, why not?” And Sasha kisses her again, holding her close as she closes her eyes into it, inhales the lavender scent that Marcy uses on everything, tangles a hand into Marcy’s hair and guides her head so that the kiss is deeper this time. Marcy’s very clearly not an experienced kisser, but she makes up for that lack of experience with blatant enthusiasm, sighing and eagerly following Sasha’s lead.
They kiss and kiss for a long while, but eventually it comes to an end with Sasha breaking for air, shifting so that she can sit Marcy in her lap. There’s a certain flair of possessiveness building in her, one that whispers of how she had been so afraid of Anne and Marcy getting together without her, so fearful that they will both have what Sasha cannot.
Maybe it is this possessiveness and jealousy that prompts her to stroke a stray hair out of Marcy’s face with a kind, endearing smile. “You’re adorable,” she says, fluttering her lashes, “wanna be my girlfriend?”
“You mean it?” Marcy gapes at her, those puppy dog eyes back on full display, and even though Sasha is sure, so sure, that she’s only doing this to steal Marcy from Anne and make sure that her position in their group dynamic is secure, knows that she’s going to double-cross Marcy once they get into Newtopia, knows that this can never last… there is a part of her that wants it to be genuine. She does love Marcy; she thinks, sometimes, she might love Marcy and Anne both more than she will ever love herself.
But she doesn’t say any of that. She just nods, and hopes that Marcy doesn’t really remember everything they talked about regarding the tower, and that Marcy will be on her side from now on because they’re girlfriends.
“I’d love to be your girlfriend,” Marcy says, and she smiles sheepishly. “I know you gotta get back to Captain Grime, but… would you wanna stay here for the night? Make up for lost time?”
Grime won’t mind, Sasha thinks, and it takes all of her energy to not look over at the Newtopian blueprints, especially with the information I can bring him in the morning. “That sounds wonderful,” she says out loud, smiling through it, and she carefully starts taking off her more complicated armor pieces, sliding her shoulder guard and chestplate off as Marcy too undoes her leather chestplace and tucks it with her cape off to the side.
The rest of the night, then, is spent together, with Marcy curled in Sasha’s arms, small and snug. She falls asleep so quickly, but Sasha can’t, too caught up in the euphoria of just… having someone to hold like this, and also the feeling of Marcy’s arms around her chest and head tucked into her neck, and the way Sasha, impossibly, wants this to last forever.
Maybe I can make this work, she tells herself as she finally dozes off, for Marcy.
~~
After the disastrous dinner with the Plantars, Marcy corners her once again.
Said dinner hadn’t gone to plan for Sasha, like, at all. She never intended to lose her cool so completely in front of Anne and her family, but hearing them taunt her about her failures at the tower, the way she had tried to sacrifice herself for Anne, and everything else… she couldn’t help it. There’s a sinking feeling in her gut, a shaky reminder of the feeling of free-falling, and she lashes out and lashes out and it really isn’t much of a surprise when Anne chooses her new family and Marcy doesn’t choose at all.
Fuck. She thought maybe being Marcy’s girlfriend would mean that she’d stop with her peaceful, conflict resolution. It doesn’t– Marcy still likes Anne too much to abandon her. That’s gotta change.
“You didn’t tell me about falling,” Marcy says quietly, and the adoring, helplessly in love smile she had during the entirety of the actual dinner is gone now, replaced with a steeled concern. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I didn’t want to think about it,” Sasha snaps, and then she gives a frustrated sigh, resting her forehead in one of her hands. “It wasn’t… it’s not that I was trying to hide something from you on purpose, okay? I just really didn’t want to think about it, and I didn’t think the frogs would bring it up so… callously.”
“It was pretty callous of them,” Marcy agrees, and she still looks so worried. “You… really tried to sacrifice yourself for Anne?”
It’s a good thing nobody else is around, still cleaning up from the volcakeno. Sasha still feels like she’s free-falling, the swooping in her stomach making her beyond nauseous. “Yeah,” she admits, softly, a word that feels too small for the weight that it carries. “I mean, wouldn’t you?”
“Probably,” Marcy confesses, and the concern in her face morphs into the saddest of smiles that Sasha’s ever seen. “I just worry about you, that’s all. I can’t have my first girlfriend dying on me, can I?”
“I’m not going to die, Marmar,” Sasha rolls her eyes, and she reaches for Marcy’s hand, squeezing it into her own. “Sorry for losing my cool back there.”
“You already apologized,” Marcy points out.
“Yeah, to Anne. I wanted to apologize to you, too– you didn’t deserve that, and I didn’t want you to feel guilty or anything for not being able to stop Anne and I from fighting.” Sasha pauses, and she tugs on Marcy’s hand. Marcy allows her, and they fall together in a hug, Sasha squeezing Marcy to her chest tightly as her eyes burn.
“I know,” Marcy mumbles against her chest, “thanks for apologizing, Sash– it means a lot.”
“Of course, nerd.” Sasha snorts. “Hey… did you mean what you said earlier? About how we should be friends for life?”
For a moment, there’s a hesitation. Marcy stiffens in her arms, and Sasha wonders if she’s struck a nerve, if she’s crossed a line that she didn’t realize she wasn’t supposed to cross.
“...I did,” Marcy finally says, her voice a mere whisper, “of course I want us to be friends forever. Is that… is that a bad thing?”
“Is that what you were worried about?” Sasha pulls away from the hug so she can swat at Marcy’s forehead playfully, snickering. “Nah, don’t worry so much. I think it’s sweet.” You have so much faith in us, she wants to say, though she doesn’t, just carefully brushes Marcy’s hair out of her forehead again, you have so much faith in me. What if I screw up again?
“If you say so,” Marcy says quietly, and she leans into that touch before she reaches up on her tiptoes, leaning upwards the best she can to carefully throw her arms around Sasha’s shoulders. “You should get some rest, we have a lot of packing to do soon before we leave for Newtopia.”
“Aww, does someone want a goodnight kiss?” Sasha teases, though she humors it, carefully placing one hand on Marcy’s cheek to guide her into a chaste kiss. It doesn’t last for long, and Marcy’s flopping back onto both feet solidly with a muffled oof , her cheeks flushed.
“Goodnight, Sash,” Marcy breathes, and she smiles all cheekily, “my wagon is wide open if you want to spend the night again, just saying.”
“Grime might kill me if I miss another night, you wouldn’t believe how soft he is on the inside,” Sasha snickers, but she pulls Marcy into another hug briefly, squeezing her tight and closing her eyes with a bitter inhale. She has never hated lying to someone more than she hates lying to Marcy right now. “Sleep well, kay? We can hang out tomorrow, I bet.”
“Sounds like a plan!” Marcy is beaming when she steps away, and she gives Sasha a little salute before skipping away, her dress swaying in the wind as she heads back to her sleeping quarters.
Sasha just watches her go.
“You’re not getting too attached, are you?”
Sasha sighs, pinching the bridge of her nose before she turns to smile evenly at Grime. “It’s all part of the plan, remember? Marcy doesn’t even know what’s coming; she adores me.”
Grime squints suspiciously at her.
“What’s with that look?” Sasha huffs, and she storms in the direction of Felicia’s bed and breakfast, not even waiting to ensure that Grime follows her. “Have I ever steered you wrong before, Grimesy?”
“I just think it’s unwise to be getting so close to your human companions. Remember, this Martha-”
“-Marcy.”
“-Martha, Marcy, same difference. She works for the king, remember? There’s no telling what schemes she could be hiding in that cape of hers.”
“Marcy’s as innocent as a fly, she’s an awful liar and hasn’t been able to hide anything from me our entire life,” Sasha snorts. The idea of Marcy hiding some terrible secret is hilarious, because it’d never happen. Marcy’s clever, but she’s also extremely, ridiculously naive, and though she does tend to put her trust in others easily, she’s an open book. There’s nothing she could plan that would catch Sasha off guard.
“If you say so,” Grime says, dubiously, but he drops the subject, following Sasha into the room they’re sharing and otherwise not remarking on her choice of girlfriend. It could be worse anyways, Sasha thinks to herself, as she lays in her bed, twiddling her fingers. It could be Anne. Anne, who barely trusts her right now anyways. Anne, who might hate her when this is all over if she doesn’t want to rule alongside her, though who wouldn’t want to rule alongside her?
There’s no room for error, she thinks to herself, drifting off to the thought of the blueprints that she had carefully taken pictures of the last time she was in the wagon, the ones that she had Grime sketch out and send to his fellow army leaders for their rebellion. Soon, I’ll have everything I want, and there’s no way Marcy would be able to refuse me.
~~
“I can’t believe you almost didn’t join us,” Marcy says.
Sasha winces as she tugs her hair out of the tight ponytail, her scalp sore and aching. Coupled with the way her face looks like she’d lost a fight with a squid, she feels like a mess – physically and emotionally.
Tonight had been… close to perfect. When she had been on that stage, singing with Anne, watching Marcy beam at them both from her drumset… she finally felt like something worthy of them. Maybe that had been what she was missing this entire time.
But it was too good to last, and besides, soon they’re going to be in Newtopia and this will all be over. The plan is to leave tomorrow morning, after all– it’s why Sasha’s spending one more night with Marcy in the wagon.
Marcy’s face is also a bright red, scrubbed raw of the makeup that had once adorned her cheeks. She’s adorable, having changed out of her butterfly costume into her pjs before Sasha even arrived, and now she’s just combing out her hair, swinging her legs as she sits on her bed.
“I told you I was trying to fix things, right?” Sasha says, and she doesn’t have a brush on her - none of Marcy’s flimsy combs would work on her thick hair - so she just combs her fingers through a couple times, getting out the worst of the knots with a sigh. “I didn’t want to overstep, like I told Anne. Besides, it all worked out just fine, didn’t it?”
“I guess so,” Marcy hums. “I can’t believe we’re really going back to Newtopia tomorrow. Oh man, Sasha, you won’t believe how gorgeous of a city it is, it’s beautiful, the architecture is so unique and unlike anything I’ve ever seen before, and King Andrias is so nice, you’re going to love him!”
I’m going to overthrow him, Sasha thinks dryly, King Andrias is a tyrant who has kept the toads and frogs at war with each other for ages, no care in the world. She’s not going to say that to Marcy though– she doesn’t want to ruin what fragile peace they have, and she doesn’t want Marcy to feel guilty about supporting the losing side. She’ll see straight soon enough.
“I can’t wait to see it,” she says instead, smiling, and she rubs at her face one more time to get the last of the smudged eyeliner off - it doesn’t work, whatever they put in their makeup here in Amphibia is strong holy frog - before going to plop herself into bed alongside Marcy. “It’ll be nice.”
“It will be!” Marcy beams, and she flops backwards, laying on the pillows of the bed with a loud sigh. “I will miss it here, you know?”
“Here, like, this dusty wagon?” Sasha snorts, and she follows Marcy down, laying next to her with her hair tumbling around her shoulders. “That’s a weird thing to miss.”
“Not the wagon specifically, just… here, in general, you know?” Marcy scoots inwards, curling into Sasha’s side, and Sasha lets her, wrapping an arm around her shoulders compulsively. “Amphibia. It’s been such a fun adventure, I don’t want it to be over.”
It doesn’t have to be. Suddenly, Sasha is convinced that Marcy will want to stay with her. Marcy doesn’t want to leave Amphibia! Marcy doesn’t want to leave Amphibia, and if Marcy’s not going to leave, then Anne won’t either, because they’ve established that they all want to stay together, it’s perfect, this is perfect, her night can’t possibly get any better than this!
But she can’t say that out loud. She can’t risk jeopardizing their mission, can’t risk being wrong. So instead, she just laughs, tugging Marcy further into her. “Of course you’d miss this place,” she says dryly, “it’s gross and old– right up your alley, huh Marsh?”
“Well, when you put it like that…” Marcy laughs too, and she burrows herself into Sasha’s shoulder, arms slung languidly around Sasha’s chest. “Whatever happens tomorrow… we’ll face it together, right?”
“Of course,” Sasha agrees, “that’s what girlfriends are for, right?”
Marcy doesn’t answer, but she does yawn, and her eyes are clearly drooping– they had been standing there for hours while Grime played his harp solo, after all.
“Get some rest, Marshmallow. We have a long day tomorrow.” Sasha hesitates, and then commits, leaning down to press a kiss to Marcy’s forehead. It works like a charm, too, because Marcy just nods sleepily, her eyes closing.
“Love you, Sashy,” she mumbles, half under her breath, and Sasha’s own breath catches in her throat because despite being girlfriends, Marcy hasn’t told her she loves her so blatantly before, this is a first. Oh, Marmar.
“Yeah, love you too,” she manages to say, before Marcy drifts off, in time to elicit a little giggle out of Marcy herself before she’s fully asleep.
And Sasha herself stays up for hours, pondering her life choices.
~~
“I did it for us.”
Today has not gone the way Sasha had planned, not in the slightest.
The trip to Newtopia had been… bearable, mostly because Marcy had claimed the middle spot and she and Sasha had secretly held hands the entire time with Anne none the wiser. Somehow, Anne hadn’t caught onto their relationship, and Sasha wasn’t about to tell her– not if Marcy didn’t want her to.
And the rebellion had been fine, until Anne had screamed at Sasha and cut off their friendship, and while Marcy had pleaded with Anne that she didn’t mean it, surely things were still fixable-! There had been a heartbreak in Marcy’s eyes, one that Sasha could hardly bear to look at.
She had ordered them to the dungeons, and Marcy had looked at her, something wide and unreadable and so unbearably sad in those eyes, and Sasha had made herself look away.
She sure was being punished for that now, though, standing in the throne room, her hands bound, watching Marcy smile at them with a broken expression on her face, eyes watering up.
Marcy… had lied to them.
Fucking hell.
Marcy had lied to them, and she had sent them to Amphibia on purpose. Marcy had lied, and she never intended to let them go back home– and Sasha hadn’t either, so they had double-crossed each other, and doesn’t that hurt? Knowing that she had been wrong? That her precious, naive little Marmar had been capable of so much devastation? She hadn’t expected it, and now it’s being flung in her face, the reminder that she told Grime that Marcy couldn’t hurt a fly and yet here she is, more broken than any bug, heart squashed into a pancake and chest free-falling once again.
“You’ve got to be kidding me,” she mutters angrily, because this has to be some sort of sick prank, right? In a moment, Marcy will laugh and say she’s just kidding, surely Andrias has things wrong, surely Marcy didn’t put her faith in a king before her own best friends, surely this isn’t actually happening-
-it’s happening.
It’s happening, and Marcy reaches for Sasha’s bound hands in the same fluid movement as she goes for Anne’s, and she’s still talking, rambling about how she was going to be moving away, she found the box, and she didn’t know it would work but what does that matter? It did work. It did work, and it sent Sasha to a prison that she had to claw her way out of, and it did work and they’ve been stuck here for months, and Marcy didn’t fucking trust her enough to say anything about it.
Sasha yanks her hands away, heart pounding.
She needs time to think.
If losing that duel atop the walls had cracked Sasha’s psyche, hearing her Marcy break down and fall to the floor sobbing destroys it. On one hand, she wants to comfort her, to tell her that she wasn’t going to be alone, doesn’t she know what Sasha and Anne would do for her? Why didn’t she know that?
But on the other, she is just so unbelievably angry. She doesn’t want to be angry at Marcy, though, so she channels it at Andrias, glowers at him until Anne cuts her bonds and the robot tosses her her own swords, and she brandishes them in his direction because she will make him pay for the destruction of toad tower, for his deceit of them all.
And what a fight it is, isn’t it?
Sasha feels helpless when Andrias threatens the frogs - the same frogs she herself had threatened those months ago, and now she just feels sick to her stomach watching the way Anne cries out for them - and even moreso when the pink twerp is dropped out the window. She had tried to kill that pink twerp herself, but she doesn’t really want him dead anymore, never has, and seeing Anne weep for him and then… and then…
…and then glow blue, bright blue, in a transformation not unlike the animated shows that Marcy loves so much.
And it happens so fast. It all happens so fast. When Anne falls, the palace lurches, and Sasha can see her Marcy in the corner, opening a portal, gesturing for them all to go– but Sasha can’t leave. She knew that before they got to the city and she knows that now; she can’t just run away from her problems, and she can’t leave them to die at Andrias’s hands.
Her safety, though, is not the one she should’ve been worried about.
First, Sasha thinks she hit her head too hard when Andrias tosses her against the wall. Her sight is so blurry, so hazed, that surely she’s seeing things wrong. That can’t actually be her Marcy standing at the portal’s edge with Andrias’s sword straight through her back. It can’t be!
“Marcy!” Sasha screams, her hand moving without her own permission, reaching out for someone who is too far away for her to save.
If Marcy says anything, Sasha can’t hear it. Andrias yanks his sword back and Marcy crumples like a broken doll, the box tumbling from her hands and falling to the floor. The portal flashes bright white and disappears, and in the wake of its absence, everything has changed.
Marcy’s laying there lifelessly. Sasha stares at her broken form and her stomach does somersaults, because Andrias is right there. Andrias is right there, looming over her, looking indifferent to the fact that he just stabbed her, and he takes the box and orders his newts to take her away.
“She’s fading fast,” he says, and Sasha stares at Marcy, and for a moment, even though she’s never been religious a day in her life, she prays.
Marcy, please. Please survive this. I’ll be back for you, I promise.
~~
It’s the hardest in the resistance.
When Sasha agrees to take the mantle, she’s not expecting so much… fanfaire. Not when Grime approaches her and tells her in no uncertain terms that she’s going to need to change her armor so that she stands out more as a leader, and that she needs to do this and this and this, and it’s just… so much, almost too much.
But she does it.
Sasha tries to hide it, but Grime fixes her a look the first day she shows up in her new gear. A cape made entirely of fur, the same chestplate design that Marcy had, even the straps on her boots… it all reminds her of her girlfriend, and isn’t that the point? She wants to be reminded of her. She wants to remember what she’s fighting for.
She even leaves her hair down. It’s a nice change, letting herself loose. She just wishes Marcy could see her.
One day, she tells herself, confidently. One day, Marcy will get to see me like this, because I’ll be her knight in shining armor.
The revelation of Marcy’s truth doesn’t sting nearly as badly, and especially not when - before the town is destroyed - Sasha drags herself into the wagon, digging through Marcy’s things to save for when they get her back. Here, Marcy’s left behind detailed journals, spare capes, and numerous other belongings. Her plants have all died, but she has vials of potions and notes on how to use them, and it’s just so unbelievingly Marcy that Sasha nearly breaks down right then and there.
She doesn’t. She can’t .
For now, she focuses on bettering herself. Isn’t that what Marcy would want? It’s what Anne wanted, for sure, and the two are so intertwined in her head she has to believe she’s being her best for the both of them.
Some nights, Marcy’s ghost visits her. Whispers sweet nothings into her ear, reminds her what Sasha’s fighting for, taunts her for leaving the injured, barely alive Marcy behind like there was anything Sasha could do in that moment but watch, watch and suffer, watch and know that she could’ve been stronger and could’ve saved her but she wasn’t, watch and promise that she will be back in the future with an army to kick Andrias’s ass and bring Marcy home.
It’s the hardest in the resistance, and when the weight of the guilt drags Sasha down, she rereads one of the journals left behind, can so easily pretend it’s Marcy’s voice whispering to her as she reads, telling her everything she’s learning. It’s here that Sasha learns of how guilty Marcy had felt about the box, how she took detailed notes on how it worked but it was all theory because Andrias never actually told her, how unhappy she was at home and how desperately she wanted to escape and never return.
I should’ve noticed, Sasha thinks to herself in these moments, what kind of girlfriend am I?
She can never bring herself to wear one of Marcy’s capes though. Those feel oddly sacred, and she decides that she should save them for Anne, sweet Anne, should her sweet Anne ever return to Amphibia. Anne deserves them more than Sasha does. After all, at least Anne got to hear Marcy’s last words.
How funny. I was right– Marcy would sacrifice herself for Anne. We really are two peas in a pod, aren’t we?
She can’t even really be angry with Marcy for long without being hypocritical, so she’s not. She vows to herself that when they see each other again, Marcy will get a big hug and a giant kiss on the mouth, no matter who is around them, and all will be forgiven. It’s the best Sasha can do for her.
~~
Marcy is safe.
She’s finally safe, free of the being that had possessed her, free of the corruption, free of Andrias and back in Sasha’s arms where she belonged. She wasn’t awake for the longest time, sleeping almost peacefully as Sasha carried her back to the resistance hideout until they were all well enough to go home, but she was safe.
That’s all Sasha wanted for her.
“Is she going to be okay?” Anne asks, fretful and worried. Anne, after all, had encountered the being possessing her first, and Sasha can only imagine how terrified she had been for their best friend. But Marcy’s okay now, and Sasha just nods, tightening her hold on Marcy’s limp body.
“I think so,” she answers out loud, “she probably just needs rest.”
“Huh?”
And both Sasha and Anne startle, because Marcy’s awake, staring up at them with half-lidded, exhausted eyes. She’s so tired, she’s clearly so tired, but she smiles at them anyways, a dopey little grin that could only come from her complete weariness.
“Marcy!” Anne exclaims, grabbing one of Marcy’s hands as Sasha holds her.
“That’s me,” Marcy says sleepily, and she’s smiling so dazedly at Sasha now, fond and full of a warm desire that Sasha had missed so dearly. “Sashy?”
“Hey, girlfriend,” Sasha whispers, “it’s good to see you.”
They reach the resistance hideout, and Sasha can’t carry Marcy down a flight of stairs, so they sit in the Plantar living room, right on the couch that had been left behind. Marcy’s tired, but she curls herself into Sasha’s chest anyways, sighing happily, and Anne is still holding her hand, and Sasha can’t help but smile fondly too, because they’re finally back together, aren’t they just so happy to be back together?
“Missed you,” Marcy mumbles, “if this is a dream, I don’t want to wake up.”
“It’s not a dream,” Sasha assures her. “Come on– don’t you know I was gonna save you? I will always be your knight in shining armor.”
“My hero,” Marcy croons, and she leans away from Sasha’s chest now to stare her directly in the eyes, her own eyes shining. “Do you want your reward?”
“Reward?” Anne parrots, confusedly, but they both ignore her.
“What could be a sweeter reward than having you here in my arms, safe and sound?” Sasha teases, though part of her is genuine ; she didn’t do this for a reward. “But for you, my princess, I will accept anything.”
Marcy hums, and she’s clearly in the same silly mood that Sasha is, because she sits more upright, looking Sasha directly in the face. “Perhaps, then, a kiss would be in order.”
“A kiss from you would be more precious than any gem,” Sasha tells her, and she places one hand on Marcy’s face, guiding her upwards.
And oh, they had only kissed a handful of times before the war, but Sasha still missed this. She missed the feeling of Marcy’s lips against her own, the way Marcy gasps into it, the way she tilts her head and clings to her shoulders like a lifeline, the way that it just feels perfect and right in a way that no other kiss has ever felt in her life.
“What the heck?”
Marcy jumps backwards, and Sasha whines in frustration at being interrupted before she remembers one simple fact; they’re not alone. Anne is staring at them, wide-eyed, looking scandalized and almost heartbroken.
“Are you two kissing?” Anne asks, sputtering. “Have you kissed before? Did I miss something?”
“Anne,” Sasha clicks her tongue, shaking her head, “you didn’t… notice?”
“Notice what ?!”
“Sasha and I have been dating since the third temple,” Marcy says sheepishly. She still looks very dazed, but less out of it than she had looked before, one hand pressed against her chest. “We didn’t really have time to tell you.”
“My best friends? Dating? Without me?” Anne pouts, and she’s pouting hard, arms crossed and everything. It’s a latent jealousy that Sasha… recognizes.
“Don’t worry, Anne, there’s enough kisses to go around,” she teases, patting the spot next to her. “Come here, come here.”
Anne stares at her so, so dubiously.
“I don’t bite! Come on, Anne, don’t you want your reward kiss too?” Sasha bats her lashes as seductively as possible. “I bet Marcy wants one, you know. You wouldn’t want to upset our Marmar after everything she’s been through, right?”
“Yeah, Anne, come on!” Marcy exclaims, playing along now. She twists in Sasha’s lap, reaching out for Anne with little grabby hands. “I want my reward kiss!”
“You’re… okay, okay, I’m coming.” Anne rolls her eyes, but she trots over obediently. First, she presses a chaste little kiss to Marcy’s lips, and then she sits next to Sasha, and Sasha leans sideways to awkwardly, clumsily kiss her too. It’s not the passionate kiss she shared with Marcy, but it’s enough, because they’re finally, finally together.
“We’re complete now,” Marcy mumbles, and she looks like she’s going to pass out at any given second, “this is nice.”
“I can’t believe you guys dated behind my back,” Anne huffs, and Sasha kisses her again to shut her up.
“Yes, well, it felt right in the moment. We’re all together now though, right? That’s what matters most.”
Marcy’s already asleep at this point, sinking back into Sasha’s lap with a whine, and Sasha holds her as gently as she deserves.
“Ugh, fine, but I expect compensation,” Anne says, and she leans against Sasha’s side, yawning. “Man, that was one tiring battle. Think we can nap here?”
“Go ahead,” Sasha tells her amusedly. “I’ll protect you– I always will.”
“Our hero,” Anne mumbles, and she’s dozing off too, and now both of her friends are in her lap, girlfriends or partners or whatever they want to call each other, and Sasha smiles to herself. This, she thinks, is better than any scheme.
It’s perfect.
And she wouldn’t want it any other way.