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Sasha knows she’s running on pure adrenaline.
Her body aches with every breath, her back screaming with every minute movement she makes. The fabric of her undershirt is sticky with blood—her own blood—and Sasha’s at least ninety percent sure that Darcy’s scythe cauterized the wound as it tore through her skin. Still, her head spins as she stands, bile clawing its way up her throat.
In the grand scheme of things, though, her injury’s not important—not when Grime’s just lost an arm, not when the fate of their world half depends on her stopping Darcy, not when Marcy is lying unconscious in her arms with a pulse that’s too faint for comfort.
And definitely not when the Core takes control of the moon and sends it hurtling toward them, intent on destroying Amphibia.
Some part of Sasha wonders if this is some cruel joke from the universe, or maybe some form of karma for all her wrongdoings. She isn’t sure whether to laugh or cry as the moon approaches. Instead, she digs her fingers into the golden railing in front of her, knuckles white, because her vision is starting to swim, and Sasha’s not sure how long she’ll be able to keep herself upright.
But she can’t worry about it—not right now, at least.
Not when they have one more world to save.
The Calamity powers help a little. At the very least, Sasha no longer feels like she’s on death’s door, no longer worries that she could collapse at any moment, but the pain is still there, lingering. An annoyance more than anything, she tries to convince herself.
The relief doesn’t last.
Soon enough, Anne is sending her and Marcy down to Earth again, and she’s back to her normal self. The pain comes back in full force. She keeps her arm wrapped around Marcy, partially as a comfort to her friend. Mostly, to keep herself from collapsing.
If Marcy notices the faint traces of blood staining her fingers, she says nothing.
(How can she, when their best friend has decided to sacrifice herself to stop the Core?)
It’s not important, Sasha thinks, even as she finally collapses to her knees, inadvertently dragging Marcy down with her. They’d just watched Anne die, nothing but a pile of white leaves left where her body had dissolved.
It’s not until Anne’s back, miniscule shards of their Calamity gems tucked away safely in her pocket, that the adrenaline fully wears off. They’ve done their jobs—both Earth and Amphibia are safe.
There’s nothing left to distract Sasha from the agony she’s been so desperately trying to ignore.
Sasha’s grip around Marcy’s shoulder tightens as her entire body screams at the white-hot pain that tears down her spine. She barely registers the way Marcy tenses, or the way Anne’s expression shifts, her eyebrows drawing together.
“Sash, are you okay?” Anne asks, as if she’s not the one who’s just died and come back to life. “You don’t look so—dude, is that blood?” From the way Marcy’s hand shifts, Sasha can only assume that the blood Anne’s talking about is the blood from her own back that had stained Marcy’s fingers, but she’s too focused on getting air in and out of her lungs to check.
“I—I don’t know where it came from?” Marcy’s voice is panicked and distant, despite the fact that she was right next to Sasha, arm still wrapped tightly around her shoulder.
(Sasha briefly wonders if she should worry about it.
Her brain manages to remind her that it’s just one thing on a long list of problems she should be worrying about.)
Marcy leans back, a gasp escaping her. “Whoa, where did this come from? Why didn’t you tell us?”
She doesn’t remember.
It doesn’t surprise Sasha, not really—she’s never been a science nerd, didn't know too many particulars about how the brain worked, but she’d had an inkling that severing Marcy’s connection to the Core might have some side effects.
“We were kinda busy saving the world,” Sasha replies, wincing as one of Marcy’s fingers brushes against the angry skin on her back.
Anne rises, water dripping from her skirt, the red hue of the setting sun framing her like some sort of halo. Sasha watches through drooping eyes as Anne makes her way to stand behind her, listens as Anne sucks in a sharp breath.
“This isn’t the kind of thing you wait to bring up, Sash,” she says after a minute, sighing deeply.
“It’s not like I was actively bleeding out.” Sasha bristles. “Besides, there were more important things to worry about!”
A part of her thinks that maybe this wasn’t the best time to get defensive, and the matching looks on the Plantars’ faces tell Sasha all she needs to know about how her friends might have felt toward that sentiment.
(She’s never been the best at sparing other people’s feelings before—maybe it was silly to think she could start now.)
Marcy disentangles her arm from around Sasha’s shoulder, and the water sloshes faintly as she stands and walks away. Anne’s hand ghosts over Sasha’s skin before settling firmly on her shoulder.
“I know how hard you’ve worked to change,” Anne says, and Sasha glances over, trying to ignore the twinge of pain that shoots through her at the movement, to see that Anne’s kneeling next to her. “And I know you’re… scared of going backwards, but that doesn’t mean you have to put others ahead of you all the time.”
“... thanks, Anne.”
Sasha lets out a shuddering sigh as her vision blurs once more, a sharp ringing in her ears. Another wave of pain shoots through her spine, and exhaustion claws at every fiber of her being.
Maybe it’s selfish, but Sasha’s about five minutes away from wishing for a third threat to suddenly appear if it means she can have her adrenaline rush back.
“Anne!” Marcy cuts through her mental haze, a much-needed source of clarity. “Lady Olivia said we can take Sasha up to the infirmary. There should be enough there to at least get her stable before we go…”
Home. The thought of the big, empty house that awaits her sends a chill up Sasha’s spine, which sets off another surge of pain. She doesn’t want to think about what her parents will say to her when she gets back.
“Sash, you think you can stand?” Anne asks. A small part of her screams no, begs her to stay still, but Sasha ignores it, her muscles trembling as she rises. Anne and Marcy support either side of her, hooking her arms around their shoulders.
“We’re gonna get you all fixed up, promise.”