Work Text:
i.
here's a fact about you: you hate famous owens only slightly less than you hate your family.
that's not precisely true, because you only really hate them a solid half the time—the rest being venom-tinged affection—and you hate your family all the time. still, when you see their name as a starting pitcher for the hades tigers, the jealousy flares. they, you instinctively know, are bound to be beloved as much as they are hated and you can’t stand to watch it.
it has always been a game of cat and mouse with you two. this is no exception.
ii.
it turns out mickey’s signed up for the philly pies, and so like with most things, you do too.
(one late night drink: “they offered me a deal.” after a pause. “gonna get rid of my record. bet they would make you one too.”
“i don't have a record.”
“you do have a reason, though. isn't that enough?”
she knows you too well. the two of you met a few years back–same apartment building, across the hall from yours–and became like no friend you've ever had.)
you don't let people close, but she's been worth it every step of the way.
iii.
dropping off this month's bunch of carvings with cedric, he gives you a pointed look.
“so you're joining us, then?”
“what?”
“i’m married to juan rangel, you know.”
“oh.”
“yeah.” hands over last month's earnings and a brand new book. as you get to the door, a call behind you– “see you on the field, spears!”
(juan rangel is no coward, despite what some may say. you know how expectations can bend people, however, and you saw it clear as day when you signed your contract.
you are scrupulous enough to know this: everyone here has made a deal.)
iv:
bright reminds you a little too much of yourself in the early days, crumbling under expectations too great. you can see it in her eyes, she's underwater and gasping for air. what she wants is simple enough to give: a friend.
the first season passes quickly, and you're rewarded with a ring on your finger by the end of it. the book opens, and you think about calling famous, because you both know the truth those pages hide. instead, it's nic at your door, sour as ever.
if nothing else, you're in for one hell of a year.
v.
in your long life, you have learned many things: the art of playing a crowd, that everyone wants something and you just gotta find out how to provide it, and there's possibly no one you've loved as much in this world as mickey woods.
though platonic, it doesn't matter– she is the other half of your heart you didn't know was missing. ferociously protective, bitter-tongued, and overly confident with no follow-through, you would kill for her in a second; and if there's a body out there that you helped bury, you'll never tell.
perhaps that's why you don't like jess much.
vi.
you like jess even less when she sends you to hades two years later. this is what she wants; reclamation of her glory days and the ability to push them even further. hell be damned for whichever unlucky soul gets in her way, and it just so happens to be you.
“wrong place, wrong time.”
famous owen stands behind you, as if they read your mind.
you don't turn.
“wasn't it you who said there's no such thing, famous? only inevitability.”
“you haven't changed at all.”
“neither have you.”
“funny how that goes.”
you don't respond, just watch her fly.
vii.
“spears, i– fuck, i just– i need to tell you something, it's important so don't just delete this like you usually do, okay? today during the game–(a sob; broken, guttural)–i can't do this actually, give me a sec.” (the sound of the phone hanging up.)
(your heart drops out of your chest. bright has never sounded so broken, and the fact that it's her and not mickey means you already know what's happened before you click over to the next voicemail.)
“sorry, i just– bottom of the ninth, spears. she's gone. mickey's gone. i'm so sorry.”
you are too.
viii.
your time in hades can be summed up as this: you spend nearly as much time trying to avoid your family as you do on the field.
it’s probably better than you give it credit for. you party with fish and fight with famous and it feels like old times for just a second, but for the most part you’re just biding time.
until you’re not. you’re waiting at bat when both moody and scorpler burn, and oh do they burn.
the rest of your time there isn’t spent burning yourself with grief, but with the need to leave.
ix.
the weight in your chest dissipates as soon as you land in hawaiʻi. for a few different reasons, you gather– it reminds you of that job you took in guinea a few centuries back, there's no vestiges of grief at every turn, and you don't have to worry about your fucking family.
time passes easily enough. they give you a mod and you gain a rather distinct taste for blood. siesta comes, and you have to finally confront yourself.
you always knew, despite yourself, that you would lose mickey, you just never thought it would be this soon.
x.
it isn't your own voice you hear out in elsewhere, but famous's.
(interesting how your conscious has decided to take the form of someone without one.)
standing at the edge of the world, this is what you know: to a degree, you will always be alone, and in all your years, they have been a single constant. you both deal with this impetus of loss in your own ways; they close themselves off, you bare yourself raw. in your experience, you would rather love and lose than not love at all.
after all this, you're beginning to question if famous has the right idea.
xi.
a hand reaches out, and you pull harrell to safety. in return, nearly a decade later and a universe over, she does the same.
your alternation leaves you much the same. there are few differences, when all is said and done, beginning and ending with a few extra inches on your counterpart. but your memories, your relationships, everything you’ve loved and lost– it’s all here for better or for worse.
in the end, you find yourself on the mound, proud and tall, and throw bright a walk the first time you play her. you figure it’s all you can do.
xii.
when parker comes, you all try to stay as friendly as possible. and when the burn comes– well, that's inevitable as anything else, really.
there is a certain contradiction to dying while immortal, but you don't waste time on the moral quandary because you're too busy crying into mickey's shoulder.
days later, bright lands heavy on the hall floor, and you can barely breathe before scooping her up. mickey flies over, and forrest and then juan and you're all packed in so tight none of you can breathe, crying but giddy.
just once, you finally have your family back.