Chapter Text
That scream.
The awful pain in Sasha’s back didn’t matter in that moment. Neither did the carnage outside or his dozens of lesser injuries leaking blood or the multitude of horrific voices overlapping each other. Through it all, that was Marcy’s voice. That was Marcy’s scream. That was Marcy clutching at their head and shrieking at the top of their lungs.
That was his Marcy .
Sasha shielded his eyes against the blinding light, struggling to stay upright until the lightning bolts finally disappeared and the screaming stopped. He looked up. The awful eyes on the scuffed black helmet went dark. Marcy collapsed. The helmet rolled away to the side.
Marcy laid there, completely still. Sasha could only tell they were breathing from the rattling wheeze that slipped from them in the sudden silence. Their greasy hair was grown out and falling over their pale, gaunt face. An outline of the helmet was cut into their skin, oozing green blood like the small cut on their chin. If he wasn’t at least mildly convinced they were breathing, he wouldn’t believe they were alive. He could hardly believe they were alive at all.
He saw them die.
Dragging himself over to them, he gathered them in his arms and held them close to his chest. Green blood trickled from the corner of their mouth as he tilted their head up.
“Marcy,” he choked out. “Marcy, wake up. Marcy…”
He cradled them in his lap. Part of him was afraid he would break them if he held them too tight. The other part was afraid he would lose them again if he didn’t hold them tight enough. Dancing the line between his options, he tucked their head under his chin and tangled his fingers in their hair. If anyone came too close, they would have to go through him, battered and bleeding as he was but still burning with enough fight to bring down an entire army if it meant he finally got Marcy back. Rubbing their arm, he bit back tears and took a shaky breath.
“I’m here,” he whispered. “You’re safe, Mars. They’re gone. I’m not going to let anything bad happen to you again. I promise, okay? I promise.”
----
You must save Marcy.
Anne returned to find the worst sight of her life.
Sasha clutched Marcy to his chest, blood soaking his shirt and pooling beneath him, weeping silently as he wiped green blood off their face. Grime, Yunan, and Olivia stood back at the perimeter of the room. No one dared approach as Sasha rocked Marcy back and forth and whispered to them. Anne couldn’t tell if he was saying anything intelligible or just going on to distract himself. The mumbling ceased as he caught sight of Anne and looked up.
“Anne…”
“Marcy! Sasha!”
She fell to her knees beside them. Sasha let her wrap her arms around Marcy, supporting them and holding their limp hand. Tears clouded her vision.
“Oh, Marcy,” she whispered. “We love you, and…”
“We need you,” Sasha finished. “Please, we need you with us.”
They held Marcy between them and listened to their shallow, labored breaths. Anne brushed their hair back and pressed a light kiss to their forehead as Sasha squeezed her arm.
They’ll be okay, she thought. They have to be okay.
Marcy’s back arched. They choked. Anne and Sasha sat them up as a mouthful of neon green blood spilled onto their front. Anne rubbed their back as Sasha cleaned the blood off their chin. Their head lolled back into his hand. They didn’t speak. They weren’t really looking at anything - their eyes only flickered back and forth.
Anne and Sasha shared a look. “Marcy?” Anne asked.
Sasha traced their lower lip with his thumb, wiping away the blood still trickling from their mouth. “Please, let us know you’re here.”
Their eyes finally stilled. They stared into nothing, looking through Anne and Sasha, and slowly came into focus. They seemed to finally snap back into their body as they sucked in a deep breath.
“Sashy? Anne?”
Anne and Sasha burst out laughing in relief. They pulled Marcy into a crushing hug but quickly pulled back when a pained groan escaped them. They mumbled apologies as Marcy marginally relaxed. Marcy clutched at Sasha’s shirt with a tired, clumsy grip.
“I-I’m sorry,” they gasped. They shook their head, squeezing their eyes shut as tears poured down their face. “I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry, for everything-”
A horrible vision flashed through Anne’s head. She saw Marcy, the light fading from their eyes, sliding forward off the massive sword and mumbling that same apology. She gently cut them off before the nightmare could overwhelm her.
“Marcy, Marcy, stop. Take it easy. We’ll talk about this later, okay? Just rest for now.” She glanced up at Sasha’s pale, sweaty face as Marcy leaned into her. “We all need it.”
Sasha managed a weak laugh. “Maybe.”
The fight seemed to fade from him then, him and Anne. He hung his head as his breath quickened. She reached over Marcy and put a hand on his shoulder, afraid that he might topple at any second without the support. Behind them, Olivia cleared her throat to keep from startling the trio. She knelt beside Anne, Yunan standing over her shoulder, and touched her hand.
“All three of you need to come to the castle hospital with us,” she said. “You’re hurt.”
Hop Pop nodded as he came up next to Sasha. “Let us help you kids. It’s time for you to take a break,” he said.
Anne and Sasha shrank away from them. They held Marcy tighter, possessive and scared, ready to fight if someone tried to take Marcy from them again. That awful betrayal took a back seat in their minds for the moment. They had been separated so many times with short teasing reunions, all marred by fighting and pain, and they watched Marcy die and they just barely got them back. They couldn’t let them go, even into the arms of friends.
The Amphibians withdrew, confused and unsure looks flitting between them. After a tense moment, Anne was finally able to put words to it.
“Don’t separate us again.”
Hop Pop was the first to speak: “We won’t, Anne. We’ll all go to the hospital together, but we should go now.” He turned. “Sasha?” Sasha nodded. He smiled and put the human’s arm over his little shoulders. Sasha had to slowly pry Marcy’s hand from his shirt, him and Anne whispering reassurances as they made a soft, pained noise in the back of their throat. Hop Pop nudged him to his feet. “There we go. I gotcha. I may be an old frog, but I’ve still got some strength left in me.”
Grime, with his stump tied off and no longer bleeding, grabbed Sasha’s other arm. “Let’s get you patched up, Lieutenant.”
“Grime, your arm…” Sasha slurred.
“Nonsense. We toads have thick skins.”
Sasha laughed, thick and rattling. He struggled to stay upright, even with Hop Pop and Grime supporting him. Anne watched him as he finally got his feet under him. He turned, and she finally saw the gaping, ragged slash running up the length of his spine. Her heart lurched. The only thing that kept her from running to him was Marcy still in her arms and the sudden leaden weight sinking in her chest, keeping her down on her knees.
Yunan crouched and reached for Marcy. “Here, give them to me.”
“Be careful,” Anne pleaded before she could stop herself.
“I will.”
Easing Marcy from her arms, Yunan picked them up and followed after Sasha, leaving Anne to watch her girls, half dead, being carried away down the hall. Without a word, Olivia took her arm and helped her stand. Her knees buckled. Sprig rushed to help Olivia catch her.
“Anne,” she said, “are you alright to stand?”
“I’m fine.”
“Are you sure?” Spring pressed.
“Yeah. Just needed to catch my breath. Let’s go.”
----
Marcy came around at the sound of jingling medals. Yunan? they thought. They drifted in and out, leaning their pounding head against the cool curve of a metal chestplate, dimly aware that they were being carried somewhere but not sure of much else. They were sure that Anne and Sasha were no longer next to them. The thought brought around a boiling wave of terror and panic that tore through their chest, searing into their addled mind, but leaving them with no way to call any attention to it.
They managed to find the strength to lift their hand to Yunan’s shoulder. “Where… where are…”
“Hush, Master Marcy,” said the general. “Anne and Sasha are coming with us. We’re all going to the hospital together.”
“Promise?”
“I promise. We’re nearly there.”
They let their hand fall onto their stomach. “My head hurts.”
“I know. Just a few more minutes and we’ll have you in fighting shape in no time.”
“M’kay.”
They closed their eyes against the harsh glare of the hospital lights. Open or closed, it didn’t matter: they couldn’t make out anything but indistinct shapes and dull colors, and the light shone through their eyelids, anyway. Yunan laid them on a cot, and they turned their head into the pillow to shield their eyes. They heard a quick exchange between her and Olivia before she went marching off to take charge. Marcy heard hundreds of war stories from Yunan; after saving herself so many times in the field, she probably knew more about medical care than most of the absent doctors. They caught a few bits of her squabbling with Hop Pop over how to best stitch a wound. Her argument consisted of more war stories and his was something along the lines of “Sprig’s still in one piece, isn’t he?” Marcy gritted their teeth and tried to tune it out.
Someone shouted Sasha’s name. Marcy jumped and turned, trying to push themself up. They were held back, but it didn’t stop them from trying again and again. Sasha needed them. What if he was hurt again? They already caused him so much pain, and whether it was them truly acting or not, it was at their hands, and they were gone for so long with no idea what happened to him and Anne and they couldn’t stay down right now. They had to make up for what they did and the danger they put their girls in. They couldn’t let anything happen now.
“Sasha!”
Olivia’s calm voice broke through the fog as she wrapped her arms around them. “Marcy, Sasha is alright.”
“No, he’s hurt. I hurt him. I have to be with him.”
“They’re helping him right now. After they stitch him up, he’ll be right as rain. Rest now and you can see him later.”
Marcy nodded reluctantly and leaned back. Taking deep breaths, they forced themself to stay grounded. They focused on the scratchy blanket beneath their hands, the pillow their head sank into, Olivia’s touch on their shoulder as she spoke to them. She produced a damp rag and wiped the sweat off their forehead. They grabbed her wrist.
“Liv,” they croaked. The complete absence of formality in the nickname was strange after so long living amongst nobility in the palace, but it was all they could manage.
“I’m here, Marcy. How are you feeling?”
Their stomach turned over just from the question. It forced them back into their body, a body that had been stolen and used as a puppet for who knows how long. Those overwhelming sensations came flooding back into a mind that had grown used to being numb, trapped and secure in a false reality. Bile rose in their throat.
“Sick.”
----
Sasha stumbled along with Grime and Hop Pop to the infirmary. He kept trying to glance over his shoulder, making sure Yunan was still carrying Marcy and Olivia and Sprig still had Anne propped between them. He didn’t like having his back to them in case something happened, in case someone came back, in case he needed to protect them. Mostly, he didn’t want either of him to see the gaping slash in his back. They didn’t need to see him hurt so badly. He had to be strong for them, not have them worrying when they were already hurt themselves.
He tried to turn back. Grime and Hop Pop kept pushing him towards the hospital.
“Are they okay?”
“They’ll be alright,” Hop Pop assured. “Don’t worry.”
Sasha nodded because he wasn’t able to argue anymore. The pain was getting to him. It burned like fire, warm blood soaking his shirt and running down his skin, the droplets tickling like phantom spiders beneath his clothes. Spikes of agony drove deeper and deeper into his torso with every step.
Grime jostled him just enough to get his attention. “Sasha?”
“I’m fine,” he snapped. He didn’t mean for it to be so harsh, but he was hardly able to force that sentence out, much less correct his tone. He did, however, manage a tiny “Sorry.”
The hospital was too bright and smelled of acrid anesthetic. His nose crinkled, and he tried to lean over to wipe it against his shoulder, but only succeeded in tripping over his feet. He fell flat on his face.
“Sasha!” Anne shouted behind him, Sprig and Polly jumping along with her. Yunan grabbed him under his arms and put him back on his feet, cautiously taking her hands away as Anne leaned into him. She grabbed the front of his shirt as he rested his head on her shoulder. He just needed a second, relishing the feeling of her fingers in his hair, the gentle whispers of “You’re okay” and “I’m right here” until he felt Anne stagger her feet to keep them both upright. He forced himself to stand on his own. Who was he to lean on her when she was just as hurt and exhausted as he was, probably even more?
Despite that, when he pulled back, the confused and dejected expression on her face almost hurt worse. All he wanted to do was lean on her again, but he knew he didn’t deserve the help she offered. Despite the progress they had made together, he still couldn’t just fall into her arms and keep taking and taking and never giving anything back. He pushed her around all their lives, her and Marcy. Who was he to lean on her now?
He had to be strong for her and Marcy now.
“I’m okay,” he said, swaying on his feet. Yunan grabbed his arm just before he collapsed, doing nothing to help his case.
“Sasha, sit,” the general ordered.
Anne stayed by his side as Yunan laid him down on the cot, on his stomach with his head turned to the side so he could breathe. Yunan set aside her own armor that would get in her way and went about stripping off his. It wasn’t hard: most of it was so flayed already it simply came off in pieces with a few snips of loose threads.
He grabbed Anne’s hand. “Go look after Marcy,” he begged. “Please, Anne. We just got them back. Make sure they’re okay.”
Before Anne could say anything, there was a thick, strangled, bloodcurdling vomiting sound heard from Marcy’s bed. Sasha pushed her towards it. She nodded and turned, but whipped back around. She took a moment to brush his hair out of his face and kissed the scar on his cheek before dashing to Marcy’s bedside.
Sasha let his hand fall, his arm dangling off the bed. Yunan grimaced as the sound went on and stood so she blocked his view, just trying to make him focus on something else.
“They were bleeding green,” Sasha mumbled. “I didn’t mean to. They - I mean, it, that thing controlling them, it just cut Grime’s arm off and I just… I lost control and I-”
“Sasha, we know you didn’t mean to hurt them,” said Yunan. “You and Grime were fighting for your lives.”
“Will they be okay?”
“Yes, they will be okay.”
“Their blood is green. That’s not a human thing.”
“No, it’s not.” Yunan hesitated. “After they were…” She faltered on this word. “… stabbed, they were put in a rejuvenation tank. Newts close to death used them to escape it. Soldiers, mostly, but nobility, too. King Andrias and his predecessors were not the only ones obsessed with immortality.”
“What about you and Olivia?”
“How old do you think we are?”
Sasha managed to chuckle at this through the haze of pain, exhaustion, and severe blood loss. Yunan disappeared for a moment, coming back with an armful of various supplies Sasha didn’t care to identify. She set them on a little lifted tray on wheels beside the cot and continued.
“The tanks were not meant for humans,” she explained. “It seems to have served its purpose on the whole, but they use certain chemicals to heal and preserve the patient. Olivia and I may have pulled Marcy out of the tank too soon, I’ll admit, but considering the circumstances, we had no other choice. I’ve no doubt the Core had some still circulating in them to ward off any adverse effects total possession may have caused. No offense to Marcy, but I can’t imagine they would have been physically able to do this to you if they were not being… I’m not sure of the word.”
“Boosted?” Sasha supplied.
“Ah, yes. That sounds appropriate. Boosted. From the sounds of it, their body is finally able to purge whatever was pumped into it.”
Another weak retch drove home her point. Sasha shoved himself up but wasn’t even able to get his trunk entirely off the bed. Yunan pressed him down again, none too gently, which, to be fair, he expected.
“Olivia has them,” said Yunan, and then, “ Anne has them. You trust her to look after them, don’t you?”
“Yeah…”
“Good.” She handed him a folded up rag. “Bite down on that.”
Yunan pressed something cold and wet to the wound. Sasha screamed through the fabric. His body went rigid, but he managed to keep still as Yunan cleaned the sticky, congealing blood from his back. She paused after a few swipes, pressing a hand down on an uninjured spot on his shoulder, giving him a break and letting him take a breath before repeating the cycle again. He was eventually able to keep himself from screaming, although if it was because he had grown used to it or just gone numb, that was anyone’s guess.
At one point, Grime wobbled over with Hop Pop at his side. He held Sasha’s hand and made the human focus on him as Yunan finished cleaning his back. He listened to Grime’s awkward fumbling attempts at comforting him, going on in the hopes something might come out right, and it calmed him just knowing that in Grime’s gruff way, he was trying. It helped drown out Yunan and Hop Pop fighting about suture techniques over him.
Grime eventually snapped and barked at the two to “just pick one already!” Yunan won that argument, in exchange for Grime letting Hop Pop tend to his arm. Grime didn’t exactly say “Don’t worry, I’ll be right over here, I’m not going far,” but he did point and say “I’m sitting there,” and Sasha knew they meant the same thing.
The rhythmic prick and pull of the stitches wasn’t awful, so long as he could see Marcy and Anne across from him. All he could really see past the curtains between the beds was half of Anne and Marcy’s legs. Marcy kicked a few times, more choked cries coming from them, but Anne gripped their hand and said something he couldn’t hear as Marcy stilled. She smiled sadly and kissed their hand.
Sasha smiled and closed his eyes. His girls were alive. They were alive and everyone was telling him they were okay, they were all going to be okay, and whether it was true conviction or blind faith born from his body and mind wholly giving out, he believed it.
They were alive and they were together and he believed it.
----
Anne reached Marcy’s side just as they contorted and puked another mess of green sludge onto the floor. Tiptoeing around the puddle, she took the bucket Olivia passed to her and pressed it into Marcy’s arms. Marcy curled around it like a child holding a stuffed animal, spitting out mouthfuls of the stuff, whimpering as they wiped their nose on their sleeve.
Anne sat on the bed with them and smoothed their hair back from their face. She handed them a tissue, trying not to notice the thick, neon goo in the bucket, tinged with specks of red. They retched again, bringing up less this time, coughing and spluttering and trying to clear their throat. She rubbed their back in an effort to soothe the violent tremors crashing like waves over them. She wouldn’t admit that her hand pressed between their shoulder blades helped quell her own trembling.
Spring nudged her leg. “Anne?” he asked tentatively.
“Yeah, Sprig?”
“Are they… w-what are they? Are they still that… t-that…?”
“No, Sprig, they’re okay. It’s over. It’s all over.” She offered a smile that he returned. “They’re just sick right now.”
Marcy, in true Marcy fashion, stuck a hand out and gave a thumbs-up in between rounds of puking. It seemed to ease Sprig’s mind for the moment. Anne chuckled, stroking their hair. That was her Marcy, alright.
“Guys, could you give us a minute?” she asked. “Please?”
Olivia cleared her throat and ushered the kids away. “Come along, children,” she said, tugging at the curtain to give Anne and Marcy more privacy. “Let’s put bandages on those scrapes.”
Heaving a tired sigh, Anne tried to get Marcy to sit up just a little farther so they wouldn’t aspirate the fluorescent sludge. She could tell they wanted to move so bad - she knew them too well to be blind to it - but their body wouldn’t let them.
What kind of hell did they go through plugged into that thing? It said they were “up here” with it, trapped within a conglomeration of ancient minds that spent centuries toiling into a distorted mockery of unified consciousness. Marcy was consumed by that for so, so long before she and Sasha were able to do anything about it. The sound of their voice intermingled with the voices of thousands…
It was a nightmare Anne didn’t think she would ever be able to forget.
Marcy groaned, wriggling their arm beneath them and trying to sit up again. Setting the bucket on the floor, she pulled them close, practically in her lap, and dragged her fingers down the length of their spine. She made them cough into a tissue to try to clear their lungs, pressing little circles into their tense muscles before they shrugged the hand off with a muffled, “Hurts.”
They laid their head on her thighs. Now, as she ran her fingers through their hair, she found that what at first felt like grease and sweat was actually a viscous clear fluid, the kind that oozed from raw, open sores and created a clear sheen on the skin before hardening into plates of scabs. Anne parted Marcy’s hair and revealed a twisting network of little raw burns, like synapses on their skin.
That helmet, she thought.
What else had it done to them?
Marcy mumbled something and shifted their head. Anne untangled her fingers from their hair, smoothing it back. Their breath hitched.
“I’m sorry, Anne,” they said. “I was so dumb. I just didn’t want to lose you guys. I thought… I thought we wouldn’t stay friends if I was so far away. It was just too big to think about and I was so scared and I… I-I…”
A broken sob tore from them. Anne squeezed her eyes shut and wrapped her arms around them. They were so small. All their energy, all their personality, everything that made them Marcy drained away. It was an awkward position to hold them in, but Anne held them as if she would never let anyone or anything near them again.
Marcy’s nails dug into her arm. “I didn’t mean for it to go so far!” they bawled. “I just wanted us to stay together. I didn’t want to lose you.”
“Shh, shh, I know. I know you didn’t mean for this to happen. But listen, no matter what happens, no matter how far apart we are, we’ll always be part of each others’ lives. Always, okay? You made a mistake. Mistakes can be forgiven. Maybe not now, but they can be.”
“How?”
“I don’t know. I just know it can happen. Okay?”
“Okay.” Marcy took her hand and held it against their lips. “I love you, Anne.”
“I love you too, Marcy.”
The curtain pulled back. Olivia stepped in. Anne disentangled herself from Marcy, laying them back against the pillows again as they whined. She let them hold onto her arm as she stood and turned to the newt.
“Anne,” she said, “we need to get that armor off of them.”
Anne frowned. “Okay? What’s with the look?”
“It’s going to hurt them.”
“What?”
“Hold their shoulders down and keep them distracted.”
Anne did as she was told. As Olivia took their arm and held it out to the side, she cupped their cheek and smiled at them. Looking up at her with sunken, dull, bloodshot eyes, they returned it with a hollow but entirely genuine smile of their own. She still wasn’t sure if they were looking at her or through her. Olivia grabbed one of the cables protruding from their arm.
“I’m so happy you’re safe,” she whispered.
“Me too. I mean, happy you’re - you’re safe, I’m happy-”
Olivia twisted the cable and yanked.
Marcy screamed.
The cable came loose, dripping green blood. Olivia made quick work of the other end and unplugged it before the initial shock wore off. Marcy sucked in little gasps of air as Anne pinned their shoulders to the bed, trying to keep them from thrashing and looking over at the cable in Olivia’s hand. The ends were a strange mess of broken, leaking tubes and sharp electrical prongs. Putting the cable aside, Olivia gripped the port in Marcy’s arm and eased it out of their skin like a splinter of glass.
“What is that?” Anne’s voice was strained and shaky.
“I don’t know,” Olivia admitted. “Not exactly. They were implanted as connections for the rejuvenation tank. And later, the Core.” The noblewoman’s face pinched, and she turned aside.
Anne swallowed hard. “Did you-”
“Yes. I watched it happen. And I will be forever sorry that I could do nothing to stop it.”
That seemed to end the conversation, mostly because Anne didn’t know how to respond.
The ports were everywhere, on Marcy’s arms and legs, their hands, in the center of their back right over where they had been… Anne couldn’t even think about it. Once they were removed, leaving just their shallow puncture wounds and circular cuts behind, the heavy pieces of armor fell away and left Marcy in the strange purple bodysuit. Anne held a pad of gauze over the worst wounds, though most were barely seeping blood at that point.
The ordeal stole the last of Marcy’s energy. They leaned into Anne’s hand on their cheek, letting her play with their hair as they whispered a broken stream of “I’m sorry”s and “I love you”s until they finally fell asleep.
Anne pressed a kiss to the back of their hand, smiling sadly. She folded their hands on their stomach and did everything she could to make them comfortable before stepping back. Her eyes went in and out of focus as she gripped the edge of the mattress. It was only then that everything hit her.
With Marcy asleep and Sasha being looked after, the bruises, the clotted cuts, the broken bones that her powers healed but didn’t numb, the pain from them all came back. It didn’t crash but more so leached into her mind. Her heartbeat was slow and heavy, twisting in a way that did not feel right in a way she couldn’t explain. She struggled to keep her head up. Her fingers were clumsy and slow. Her wobbly legs ached and no matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t lift her feet off the floor, only managing to shuffle them along.
She flinched when Olivia touched her arm. Turning to face her was like moving through wet cement.
“Anne, dear, I can look after Marcy for the moment,” she said. “You should sleep.”
“But Marcy… Sasha…”
“Anne, you were thrown through a building. Several, if I’m not mistaken. Go lie down.”
She was too tired to argue.
Stumbling away, Anne found Sprig and Polly on a bed across the room. Hop Pop was just finishing bandaging Grime’s stump as she walked over. The captain touched her arm, looking up with that one good eye, and flashed a wavering smile.
“You’re one of the greatest soldiers I’ve ever seen,” he said.
She smiled. “Thanks, Grime.”
He marched off to Sasha’s side as she sat cross legged on the bed with Sprig and Polly. Sprig offered her a glass of water that she waved off. Hop Pop jumped up beside her. He held her hand as Polly sat in her lap, and Sprig clung to her arm on the other side.
“You did good out there,” said Hop Pop. “We’re so proud of you, Anne.”
“Yeah, you saved the world!” Polly said with a grin.
Sprig was the only one that wasn’t overjoyed. He just rubbed Anne’s arm and looked up at her with worried eyes. “Anne? Are you okay?”
Anne met his eyes but said nothing. She looked across the room first to Marcy, fidgeting and whimpering in their sleep, and then to Sasha, struggling to lie still as his entire back was sewn together again. The frogs moved aside as she flopped back on the bed. She let the day, the weeks, the months wash over her as she sank into the mattress, let the pain burrow into her bones and tear her apart, let the exhaustion scatter the pieces of her to the wind. She stared at the overhead lights as her mind finally caught up to her body.
Marcy trapped them here and died trying to get them out. They were stabbed by a lying, maniacal tyrant so tied up in his family’s control that he lost the people closest to him, a tyrant she quite literally tore to pieces, and Sasha freed them from the possession of thousands of ancient dead Amphibians but not before it had who knows what kinds of awful effects on their body. Anne’s heart was broken over and over with every new thing that happened with Marcy, and she and Sasha didn’t have any time to process or talk about it through the war and now they were back. They were alive, apologetic and repentant, and had their own mind in their own body.
Marcy was back. Sasha survived his battle with that thing . The three of them were together after so long apart. The war was over.
It was over.
Sprig leaned over her, blurred by the tears that were now trickling down the sides of her face. “Anne?” he ventured. “Are you okay?”
“It’s done, right?”
Sprig frowned. Hop Pop nudged him aside and brushed Anne’s curls out of her eyes. “That’s right,” he said. “We won. You can take it easy, now. We’ve got you, Anne.”
Anne nodded and rolled over onto her side. She stared into space as Sprig hugged her, letting her mind slip away and the pain drag her under. Her eyes slipped shut. Maybe Hop Pop was right. Maybe it was time for her to just rest.
----
Consciousness came and went like the tide, allowing Marcy glimpses of blurry faces and indecipherable muddled conversations. They could tell when the voices were real, but it was harder to definitively determine when they weren’t. They overlapped, whispered, shouted, oscillated between shrieks and what at times almost sounded like lullabies, all of it swirling into an awful melody in their head. A few isolated ones dragged them awake gasping for breath and scratching at the mattress, but there was always a gentle reassurance and a hand in theirs to send them back to sleep.
They woke up for good as cool fingers combed through their hair. “Marcy, will you open your eyes?” Olivia asked. They groaned but did it anyway, struggling to make out her features. She smiled. “There we are.”
“Where’re Anne and Sasha?”
“Right over there.”
Olivia tilted their head up. Anne was in a bed across from them, curled up on her side with one hand pressed against her ribs, either asleep or quite nearly there. Even across the room, Marcy could see tear tracks cutting through the dirt and dust on her face. Sprig hugged her while Polly snuggled against her shoulder, both of them uncharacteristically quiet and somber. Hop Pop sat on a stool beside them.
A couple beds down was Sasha. He lied facedown on the cot with Yunan sans her armor leaning over him and Grime speaking indistinctly to her. His destroyed ankle was covered with red soaked bandages, gauze pressed over some minor injuries, and Yunan was just about done stitching his back together. He winced every now and then, his face contorting and relaxing in time with Yunan’s work, a few weak cries falling from his lips, but he seemed to have lost the strength for anything else.
Marcy's chest tightened. Their vision went red as screams filled their ears.
Malevolent eyes on the wall.
A glowing scythe in their hands.
And blood, Sasha’s, splattered across the floor, accompanied by his piercing screams.
Marcy shot upright and immediately regretted it. Crushing pain surged through them, and they fell back, crying out and curling in on themselves. They tried and failed to get up again before Olivia had the chance to stop them.
“Marcy, stop that,” she ordered, delicately balancing between a motherly plea and a royal order.
“No!” they gasped. “No, no, Sashy, he-”
“Sasha is going to be fine. All of you will be fine but you must relax and rest.”
They shook their head but couldn’t resist as Olivia held them down. “Let me see him,” they begged. “I didn’t get to see him yet, I want to see him.”
“I know, dear.” Reaching over to a chair beside the bed, Olivia produced a stack of clothes and set them by Marcy’s feet. “I took the liberty of finding you a change of clothes.”
Marcy nodded. “Thanks, Olivia.”
“Let me know if you need help getting dressed.”
“Okay.” Marcy put their feet on the floor before they realized the mistake.
“Marcy, wait!”
They went crashing to the ground with a yelp. Olivia went to her knees beside them, frantically fussing as she grabbed their arm.
“I’m okay,” they said. A weak smile lit their face. “Classic clumsy, klutzy Marcy, I guess.”
“Oh, Marcy-”
“I can get up. Just let me try.”
Olivia nodded. Marcy grabbed the bed and slowly but surely pulled themself up, their feet slipping out from under them multiple times, arms shaking trying to make up for the missing strength in their legs. Leaning heavily on the bed, they were left panting just from the exertion of standing. Olivia placed her hand over theirs and offered an unconvincing smile that did nothing to hide the tears in her eyes.
“Let me know if you need help,” she repeated.
“I know.”
Olivia pulled the curtains shut, leaving them alone in the little sectioned off bay. They took a deep breath and scrubbed a hand down their face. They managed to prop themself up enough to strip the suit off. They struggled to pull on the shorts Olivia gave them, but after a few times they finally succeeded. Sitting down for a moment to catch their breath, they studied the circular wounds covered in sticky, clotted green blood up their legs and arms. They touched the edge of one.
Their vision fractured. Orange light blinded them. The world split into nearly a dozen facets, all composed of different colors and different points of view, just fragments piecing together a distorted collage of the room. They clapped a hand over their eyes and bit down hard on a stifled scream. It was a short eternity before they found the courage to open their eyes again, blinking away the remnants of the image and surrendering themself to the shifting, blurry double-vision they were already contending with. They preferred it to that multifaceted hell.
They didn’t want to look down at the scar on their chest. They already knew it was there, along with its grotesque mirror image on their back. They felt it. It flexed and pulled at their skin when they moved, stretching as they lifted their arms to slip their shirt over their head, long ropes of gnarled tissue already gone white at the edges but still pinkish and tender in the deepest parts. Whatever that tank did to keep them alive, it wasn’t enough to truly heal everything.
The curtain rustled. “Marcy?” Olivia called. “Are you alright, dear?”
“Yeah.” They sat on the bed, staring at their feet swinging back and forth. “You can come in.”
Olivia came in holding bandages and other supplies. She sat them on the bed beside Marcy, and they picked up a roll of medical tape, turning it over between their fingers. Olivia wet a cloth with something from a clear bottle and touched one of Marcy’s legs.
“Let’s get this cleaned up, shall we?”
Marcy gave a noncommittal hum in reply.
They jerked when Olivia first touched one of the puncture wounds. She offered a gentle apology and reassurance before resuming. Marcy tried to dampen the flinches as Olivia went along. She cleaned the dried blood, smeared some type of clear cream on it, covered it with gauze or wrapped it in bandages, and repeated the process on the next one. She had Marcy turn and tug the back of their shirt up so she could bandage the larger wounds around their spine. She made a pointed effort to avoid the scar, which Marcy was grateful for.
Letting their shirt fall into place, they covered their eyes until Olivia moved their hands out of the way so she could bandage the cut on their chin. Setting the supplies aside, she held their hand in both of hers. They covered their eyes again.
“How do you feel?” she asked after a moment.
“I want to see them.”
“Marcy-”
“ Please. ”
Olivia sighed. “Alright, dear.”
They were able to stand on their own, and with Olivia holding their elbow for the first starting steps, they could walk, too. They had to look down every few seconds, partially to make sure their bare feet wouldn’t tangle together and send them crashing to the cold floor, partially to steady their vision. The expansive surroundings of the room aggravated whatever was happening with their eyes. Their sight didn’t completely come apart like it had when they first saw the punctures, but it did split, clear fault lines cracking through it. It was a tossup between blurry wavering vision as their eyes flickered, or sharp and sure sight cut into offset pieces.
They ended up at Anne’s side. They looked past the Plantars to Anne’s sleeping face, exhaustedly tranquil but streaked with tears. With their eyes stinging, they reached out to brush her tears away. Sprig moved in between them before Marcy could get close. The human withdrew.
“Sprig,” Hop Pop hissed.
Sprig puffed his little chest for a moment before deflating. “I…” He flexed his hands. “I never thanked you for saving me.”
He launched into their arms. The force and weight of the hug knocked them to their knees with a grunt as Sprig wrapped his arms around their neck. Hop Pop and Polly scolded him from the bed above them, trying to keep their voices down to avoid waking Anne. They stopped when Marcy wrapped their arms around him in return.
“I’m sorry,” they mumbled. They closed their eyes to stop the tears as their vision threatened to split again. “I’m sorry, Sprig.”
“Do you love Anne?”
“Yeah.”
“Good. ’Cause I love her, too, and I don’t like seeing her get hurt.”
“I messed up.”
“Big time. But if you’re gonna jump out a window to catch me, I think you can figure out how to make it up to her.” He let go, watching Marcy as they hung their head. “Oh, and I figured out that I’m not poisonous.”
Marcy laughed. They sniffled and wiped their face, taking Sprig’s offered hand to help them up. They stood hand in hand watching Anne sleep peacefully. Marcy wiped her tears away and pushed her curls out of her face. Mumbling something unintelligible, she buried her face in the pillow, and Marcy let themself smile. They planted a quick kiss on her temple and straightened.
“I-I’m gonna…” Marcy’s voice trailed as they glanced over towards Sasha’s bed, where Yunan was just finishing bandaging his back.
“We’ll look after her,” said Sprig. “Go check on Sasha.”
“Thanks, guys.”
They made their way over Sasha. Grime stood opposite them, and they stopped halfway across the room as their eyes went to his bandaged stump. He followed their stare and discreetly tugged on his cape to cover it. Stepping around the bed, he approached and stood beside them. They took a step back, but he lifted his hand.
“Don’t worry,” he said. “I know it was only that helmet.”
“I-I…”
“Marcy.” He grabbed their shoulder and gave them a little shake, which, considering how well he got along with Sasha, they assumed was supposed to be reassuring. “You three are children. You never should have been caught up in all of this, and you especially did not deserve… that. Don’t blame yourself for the actions some dead newts used you to commit.”
Marcy nodded. “Okay.”
Grime coaxed them along towards the bed. “Go on.”
Yunan sat Sasha up just a little to help him slip on a tank top before laying him on his side. Standing behind her as she pulled a blanket over him, Marcy wrapped their arms around themself and bit their lip. His features were devoid of color, white lips slightly parted, hair stuck to his forehead with sweat. His breath hitched when Yunan settled the blanket over him. His expression contorted in a mask of pain before smoothing again with only a slight pinch between his brows left behind.
Yunan turned, wiping her hands with a bloody rag. Marcy stiffened. More tears burned their eyes. Yunan glanced down and quickly cast the rag aside before beckoning them over, pulling up a chair beside Sasha.
They swallowed hard. Their vision flickered again, and they squeezed their eyes shut as Yunan touched their arm. “Is he…?”
“He’ll be perfectly fine,” the general assured. “He just needs rest. You all do. And if you’re not going to sleep, at least sit.”
She nudged them into the chair and stepped away. They heard Olivia’s voice behind them, and then Yunan came back with a blanket to wrap around their shoulders. They shrugged it off once she left. Leaning their chin on the edge of the bed, they took Sasha’s hand, tracing each scar across his knuckles. They rubbed small circles into his forehead until his brow relaxed and he looked almost calm. It was just like their sleepovers, watching over him and Anne when they inevitably fell asleep long before Marcy did.
Back when things were simpler. Back before they screwed everything up. Back when yes, maybe there were disappointments, and maybe it felt like they were struggling to just be seen and heard sometimes, but what did any of that matter when the alternative was this?
It killed Marcy seeing their girls like this. It killed them knowing that it was their actions that led to it all. No matter what anyone said, this was their fault.
The entire spectrum of human emotion, blown to impossible extremes, manifested in a blank face and a deluge of tears. Shrill whispers echoed in their ears. This time they could tell they weren’t real but they let them ring anyway. Their vision fractured. The sections rolled independently of one another, each to a different point, everywhere but where Marcy knew they should be looking. It was as if, in some malevolent pitying way, the eyes were trying to save them from having to face it all.
And then Sasha cupped their cheek.
At his touch, the whispers silenced, and the facets came slamming back into one pair of eyes focused on his smiling face.
----
“Hey, Mars,” Sasha whispered.
Don’t say you’re crying over me.
“Good to see you.”
The last time I saw your smile was right before I pushed you away.
“What’s that face for?”
Let me take back what I said. Let me see you smile again.
Marcy sniffed. “Hi, Sashy,” they croaked.
“Why are you crying?” he asked.
“M’just happy to see you.” They leaned their cheek against the back of his hand. Their eyes did that odd flickering motion again, like they did when they first woke up, and they squeezed them shut. “I’m sorry.”
“Marcy.”
“For everything. I was so selfish.”
“Please, don’t-”
“I ruined everything. I ruined your guys’ lives just trying to stop someone else from doing what I thought would ruin mine.”
“Marcy, stop ,” he begged. Their eyes flashed open. He held his breath and squeezed their hand, staring into their eyes, terrified they would disappear if he looked away. It wasn’t until they kissed the back of his hand that he finally let that breath go. “I can’t believe you’re alive.”
They replied with a resigned hum. They avoided his gaze as their eyes flickered, taking a shuddering breath and gripping his hand as tight as he imagined they were able in their state. He couldn’t pinpoint exactly what they were holding back, only that he knew them well enough to know that if it made the Marcy Wu go silent, it was worse than anything he wanted to hear.
At least, he thought he knew them well. Did he ever pay enough attention to earn, to deserve that claim? Maybe if he cared more and wasn’t so obsessed with himself, he would have seen what was going on. He would have been there when they needed him. He could have let them know that he would be with them even if they weren’t together physically, told them he’d always be there, and done everything in his power to make them believe it.
Maybe he could have prevented all of this if he had just paid attention.
You’re not friends. It’s doubtful you ever were.
It was time he actually listened. Even if he thought it would kill him to hear it.
“What did they do to you?”
Marcy bit their lip and turned aside. “I don’t really know. I remember the helmet going on, and then I was just dreaming about you and Anne but it was all wrong and weird, and then I woke up to you and Anne holding me. A-And, and in between, there were these little glimpses, not really of reality, but just knowing something was wrong and now…”
“Now?”
Marcy shrugged. “I’m hearing weird things. I’m seeing things but not really seeing them, it’s like… I know they happened, and I get colors and sounds, but it’s not like I’m really remembering anything. It’s like a memory of a memory. The last thing I remember clearly before today was our fight and then Yunan and Olivia and then the helmet going on and… it hurt. Sasha, it hurt so bad-”
Their words stopped abruptly, strangled by a quiet sob. Sasha forced himself to keep his voice steady.
“Are you okay? I mean, obviously you’re not - that was a stupid question. I just meant, shit, I meant, does this… are you…”
He’d protected them and Anne since they were children. How had he failed the one time it really counted?
Why couldn’t I stop them from hurting you?
He gave up, letting the words die as he reached out and touched their face. He wasn’t quite sure why; it was more assurance they were actually with him, if he had to guess. His fingers went about memorizing their features. He followed the hollow of their temple and swept a thumb across their eyebrow, traced the long cut across their cheeks from the helmet, thumbed the bandage over the gash from his sword, gently brushed over a bruise on their jaw. They closed their eyes and relaxed under his ministrations as if it were the last gentle touch they would receive in their life.
His hand landed on their chest with his palm flat against the massive, ragged scar. The top of it poked out from under their shirt. They grabbed his hand and held it there, heart pounding beneath his touch.
“Marcy, I don’t know what’s going to happen once the three of us all sit down and actually talk this out,” he began. Their face pinched. He swiped his thumb over their collarbone to calm them. “But as far as now goes, you’ve paid way too much for that mistake already. Look, I have so, so much I need to apologize to you for. I already got time for that with Anne and I’m still nowhere close to being done. I was just dragging you around our whole lives. All I did was push people around, push you and Anne around, I ignored everything you ever tried to show me and I never showed you that I cared and I-”
A bolt of pain seared through his back, cutting him off with a sharp gasp. Marcy dropped his hand to intertwine their fingers instead and grabbed his shoulder. Tears poured down their face. He went to brush them away, but Marcy wouldn’t let go of his hand.
“Don’t apologize to me,” they choked out. “Not after everything. Nothing changes what I did so don’t make excuses for me!”
“Marcy, I watched you die. ”
It wasn’t harsh or loud or mean. Hell, it was barely audible. But it cut off Marcy’s train of thought and let Sasha free his hand to wipe their tears away. He touched the top of their scar.
“We watched you die,” he repeated. “Yeah, you got us stuck here, and we… we’re going to have to talk about that. We’re going to have to talk about that a lot, but you… y-you… you died trying to get us back. Yunan told me what those tanks can do. You actually died, do you get that? Stop apologizing for that.”
Marcy bowed their head. Their hand moved closer to the thick bandages now covering his back. “I hurt you. Frog, I cut Grime’s arm off.”
“It wasn’t you.”
“It was at my hand.”
“ It wasn’t you. ”
He reached around to cup the back of their neck and bring them in so he could kiss their forehead. He was able to push himself up in a way that didn’t twist his back too much and snuggled up to them as best as he could. He shifted, giving them space to put their arms around his shoulders without hurting him.
“I love you, Sashy.”
“I love you too, Mars. We’ll figure this out later, okay? For now, we’re together.”
“Okay.”
A thought occurred to him, and in his blood loss induced delirium, he found himself chuckling at it. “You know what I just thought of?”
“What?”
“We match now.”
Marcy looked up. “Huh?”
He touched their scars, first the one on their face, and then the one on their chest. “We match.”
Marcy stared, dumbfounded, until their mind finally registered what he was saying. A broken chuckle bubbled up from their chest. The chuckle turned into a wild grin that turned into howling laughter that turned into a hysterical mess of laughter and sobbing as they buried their face in the crook of his neck. He hooked his arms under theirs and pulled them out of their seat onto the cot with him. Tangling his fingers in their hair, he ignored the screaming pain lancing through him and clung to them with every ounce of strength he had left.
Past Marcy’s crying and his own broken sobs he failed to stifle, he heard Yunan call to him from the other side of the room. “Sasha, you’re going to tear your stitches!”
“He won’t listen,” Grime scoffed. “Let them have this, General.”
Sasha found it in himself to laugh. Marcy slumped against him, taking heavy, shuddering breaths as they tried to calm down. He shushed them and rested his cheek on the top of their head. He glanced up as footsteps approached them.
Anne smiled at him. She leaned heavily on Olivia and kept one hand pressed against her side, having shed her chestplate. He held out his arm without a word, and she joined him and Marcy on the bed, hugging Marcy’s waist as they loosened their vice grip on Sasha. They placed one hand atop Anne’s and kept the other pressed against the side of Sasha’s neck. They swiped their thumb across the corner of his jaw as he wrapped his arms around them both.
The embrace only lasted for a minute before Sasha could no longer dismiss the pain all along his spine. Anne pulled Marcy into her lap so he could shift into a more comfortable position. Cuddling up to them, he pressed one kiss to Anne’s cheek and another to the top of Marcy’s head. Anne watched him with a gentle smirk and more love in her eyes than there were stars in the universe. He raised an eyebrow. Something was different about those eyes.
He poked her cheek beneath her right eye. She swatted his hand away. “Ow, what was that for?”
“Did you put in a contact or something, Boonchuy?” he joked.
“What?”
Marcy pulled back, scrubbing the tears from their face as their eyes flickered. A few blinks stopped the involuntary movement as they touched Anne’s cheek where Sasha had poked her. They studied her just long enough for her to laugh nervously and look between the two of them.
“Seriously, guys, what?”
Marcy slumped against her, burying their face against her neck and reaching for Sasha’s arm again. “It’s called complete heterochromia,” they explained as Sasha rested his chin on their shoulder. “Less than one percent of the global population have it. Mostly it’s genetic but it can be acquired later in life depending on a variety of factors. It’s usually just an excess or absence of pigment.”
“Marbles, layman’s terms.”
“Your right eye is like, neon blue.”
“Oh.” Anne thought for a moment and smiled. “Heh. Cool.”
“It looks super cool. You’re like an anime protagonist.”
Anne and Sasha laughed. They leaned down and kissed Marcy’s cheeks, nuzzling against them. “We’re so glad you’re alive, Mars,” Sasha said.
Marcy cringed. Sasha and Anne shared a look. “I’m sorry,” they said, their voice muffled by Anne’s shirt. “I’m so sorry.”
“Marcy, stop. No more apologies for now,” said Anne. She exhaled sharply through her nose. “We’re going to talk about it later. Frog knows we really, really, really need to talk about it, just not right this minute. You’re alive, we’re all alive, we’re finally together and we somehow survived all of that.”
Sasha snorted. “Barely.”
Anne flicked his forehead. He went to retaliate, but Marcy grabbed his arm and returned it to its place around them. He sighed, smiling against their shoulder. If they never let go of him until the end of time, he would be perfectly okay with that.
Anne continued: “We don’t have to keep fighting anymore.” He and Marcy looked up at that. She offered a smile. “We can just rest now, right? Like everyone keeps telling us to. They might actually have a point about us needing sleep, y’know?”
Marcy sighed. “Probably. Olivia’s gonna get mad if I keep not listening to her.”
“And Grime will eventually just start sanctioning me for insubordination or something once he decides to make it an official order,” Sasha added. Anne laughed. The sound put him at ease for the first time in months. “Yeah, sleep sounds like a good idea to me. Mars?”
“Please.”
“Settled, then.”
They laid down together, pressed close to fit on the small mattress. Marcy cuddled up to Anne’s front in the middle, with Sasha pressed against their back and his arms around the two of them. He felt Marcy slowly relax in their embrace and watched the way the tension slipped from Anne’s shoulders as she reached over Marcy to pull him closer.
They drifted off together, huddled close and secure, each finally at peace knowing the other two were with them again. They’d come so far, and they still had so much farther to go, but now they could finally just take a break.
Just before they fell asleep, someone draped a blanket over them. “Get some rest, kids. You’ve sure earned it.”