Chapter Text
One Hour Before
This is the Alpha timeline, he reminded himself as he tenderly picked up the frog, hoping that it might be the last one they needed. He couldn’t remember how many frogs they had collected, but he somehow managed to keep track of how many seconds until the end.
He wanted to stop mindlessly collecting frogs and start preparing. Preparing for what? Harley might ask, and he would respond, Preparing for Jack, obviously. No mention of anything else. No letting her know what fate will befall on him.
As he freezes his ass off in the cold, he thinks, Wow, what a way to go. By the time Jack gets here, I’ll already be dead via hypothermia. He doesn’t voice his complaints because he knew that Harley would immediately bundle him up like a little kid playing in the snow for the first time while Harley toughed it out in her sleeveless dress—her really beautiful dress that hugged her curves in ways that he shouldn’t think about.
For once, he thanks the frog beast or whatever it was for the cold.
She waved him over to help her collect a particularly hard-to-reach frog, and he obliged. He let her clamber up his back to reach the frog, and he almost let out a snide remark about how inappropriate her dress is for trekking through the forest.
But he doesn’t say it. He held himself back because he knew that everything would be over soon. He wanted more minutes, more seconds, more moments to waste. But he didn’t consider these moments wasted. He didn’t consider any moment with his friends as wasted.
Even the moments where he was hunting down an endless amount of frogs were precious. He tried not to let the fact that he was making these memories with Jade affect the value of these moments, but it didn’t work.
She called him over to help her yet again. He would never be done helping her.
Thirty-eight Minutes Before
They decided to take a break from catching frogs and sat on the cold, sandy beach. He was glad that he was wearing shades because she couldn’t see his unnerving stare as he attempted to soak up all the little details he could.
As she emphatically described one of her adventures, he watched her hair dance and flow down her back as if it were alive. He saw the highlights of her life through her eyes more than her words. Her eyes that were both happy and sad, confident and terrified. Although she seemed to be mostly joyful when talking about Bec, there were still moments when her eyes betrayed her cheerful mood and showed her desolation when thinking about what Bec had become, what her dreamself had turned into.
When she finished her story, she absentmindedly rested her head against his shoulder, took his hand into hers, and toyed with it as if it held the secrets of the universe. He tensed slightly, but didn’t say anything.
He knew that they both felt a need to fill up silence with anything, and so she asked him how to use turntables and rambled on about how the discs felt underneath his fingers, to be completely in control. No more chances to feel the power beneath my fingertips. But there’s still time to hang out with Harley.
He attempted to steel his nerves and grab her face and kiss the fuck out of her, or at last kiss her on the cheek and let her know how he feels, but there was a voice in the back of his mind that whispered, What if she says no? What if she doesn’t like me like I like her? What if I screw things up and it’s awkward for the last 29 minutes and 43 seconds we have left?
He doesn't make a move.
Nineteen Minutes Before
They had returned to frog hunting, and he wanted to say something to her—just tell her that he wouldn’t survive. But would that help her through it? Would telling her beforehand cushion the blow, or stop her from shooting the bullet
No. No, it wouldn’t. Then this would become a doomed timeline. No more doomed timelines. No more Daves traveling back in time because they fucked everything up again. No more horrific memories from other timelines where he had let them all die. Not anymore. He would make sure that they would be successful this time. And he wouldn’t tell her that she would be the one to kill him.
This is the Alpha timeline, and this time he won’t fuck up.
Fifteen Minutes Before
He was walking over to her with the successful capture of two croaking beasts when she noticed the black figure descending down the mountain. He saw the look of fear in her eyes and knew what she saw. But he still hoped that it wasn’t time yet (even though he had been counting down the minutes, the seconds until his time was up.) He hoped that he still had more time to make more moments, more memories.
But lo and behold, Jack was rushing down the mountain.
They glanced at each other and readied themselves for Jack’s first attack.
Ten Minutes Before
She jumped in front of me. She fucking jumped in front of me. She wasn’t supposed to risk her life for him. That’s not how it works. He’s the hero. He’s the knight. I'm the one who's supposed to die when Jack comes.
But she doesn’t die. Jack doesn’t dare attack his owner. At least we have that in common. Jack growls and bares his teeth at him, and he’s tempted to do the same.
He fights back as hard as he can even though he knows that it’s all useless. And yet, he hopes that maybe if he does his best, he can still live.
Seven Minutes Before
She keeps firing bullets, and he keeps counting the seconds until his death. He doesn’t know whether he’ll die quickly or slowly, and he can’t help but feel relieved each time a bullet whizzes by instead of piercing through his chest.
He keeps making small time loops in an attempt to overwhelm Jack with the sheer amount of Daves in his face, but he still manages to count down relative to her time.
There are no words spoken between them, save for the occasional curse word when either one of them is hurt.
Twenty Seconds Left
He sees Harley aim her gun at Jack. He sees Jack’s body flash all the colors of the cosmos, and he knew that it was time.
If only he had the guts to say something to Harley before it was too late.
Eight Seconds Left
Harley had her finger on the trigger. His time was almost up, but his mind was still running possible scenarios. You could stop her. You could slap the gun right out of her hands. You could grab her from behind so that she’d end up shooting at the sky.
But he doesn't do anything. He thought about what his last words could be, but before he could choose a satisfying one-liner, he remembered that he wouldn’t have any time to say anything.
So instead, he closed his eyes tightly and braced himself for the pain that would come.
Zero Seconds Left
He felt the first bullet go through his body and exploding out the front of his chest. Then the second. Then the third. And a fourth. And a fifth. And a sixth. Jegus fuck, Harley. How many times did you shoot? How long until you realized the bullets were going right through him?
There was nothing left that he could do. There were no heroic last words he could choke out.
The bullets ripped through his body, but there was no pain, no screaming.
Just one strong, gloved hand pulling him away from his wrecked body.