Chapter Text
"That's the thing about friends isn't it? The more you love them, the more it hurts when they go."
Something was wrong.
Post-victory elation faded from Anne’s aching limbs as she landed in the castle’s generator room to find it empty, save for a one-armed toad and a discarded scythe and sword, with a rhythmically sparking wire sitting next to it. The weapons and the wire sat in a pool of some sort of green liquid–a decently sized murky puddle that was weirdly localized around the wire. Maybe it was something to do with the machinery in the room? But what had happened to Grime?
Not for the first time, Anne wished Marcy was here. She didn’t have time to investigate further into whatever had happened in that room, but she knew Marcy would’ve been able to deduce what had happened in no time. All Anne knew was that Sasha was missing and that she needed to find her. Once she had Sasha by her side they could save Marcy, their Marcy, from whatever ancient Newtopian bullshit Andrias had subjected her to. Then finally, finally, they would all be safe and that ever-present fear she had held in her heart, ever since she had watched that cruel, flaming sword plunge through Marcy’s chest, would be put to rest.
The uneven sound of Anne’s one-shoed gait and the persistent call of “Sasha!” echoed through the halls of Newtopia’s castle. In the back of her head she realized it probably wasn’t wise to be shouting when that thing could be lurking around any corner. Panic and the need to make sure Sasha was safe overrode wisdom in this instance; something that doubled as an obstacle since she hadn’t the faintest clue as to where she could even begin to start looking. Maybe Sasha had gone for the box? She doubted Grime’s lieutenant would’ve abandoned him in his state, but at least it was a place to start.
That guess would be the last time luck was on Anne’s side that day.
Death was everywhere in Amphibia. In a lot of ways Anne had become desensitized to it. The bones of some poor frog in a beast's lair were a common sight. But never had Anne seen the corpse of someone she knew , let alone loved . Never had Anne seen a death so visceral.
Sasha stood, face smeared in green, a haunted look filling her eyes. Any joy Anne would've felt at seeing her friend safe died upon seeing what–who she was carrying.
Draped in her arms was a figure clad in dark armour. That same green that coated Sasha painted the corners of her mouth. That same green surrounded the pink blade buried in her chest. That same green still dripped from the tip of the blade that erupted from her back.
Bile rose in her throat as Anne finally realized just what the green liquid was.
"What…what did you do? "
Anne stared at her laptop screen, an ocean of words and equations churning in front of her. Doubt swirled in her head as she questioned her life choices for what felt like the thousandth time since starting college. If Anne had been asked what she would be taking in college when she was 13, physics would not have been an answer even remotely on the table.
But here she was, 21 years old, in her third year of college, tackling the building blocks of the universe–an apt metaphor considering those blocks composed the wall that she was currently banging her head against. After rubbing her eyes to let out some frustration, they refocused on the framed picture sitting on her desk. It had been taken in Amphibia–a picture that she took on her phone of her and the Plantars, printed and framed before they returned home to find a warzone waiting for them. Resolve settled in her heart: this was why she was studying what she was. Family always finds its way back to each other, and Anne was adamant on making that happen.
Anne wanted– needed to figure out how to build a portal back to Amphibia. She had already lost enough things forever, she wasn't about to add the Plantars to that list.
Somewhere in the deep recesses of her room, buried and hidden but not forgotten, was another picture. It had received the same treatment as the one on her desk, lovingly printed and framed; the reason for its exile in spite of this was apparent from its contents. This picture was the one she had taken on what was supposed to be the night before she went home. The night before they went home. The entirety of Wartwood behind them, her family surrounding her, and…them. Still dressed in their band costumes, flanking her.
It had been seven years and though thinking of them didn't make her brain feel like it was on fire anymore she had resolved that thinking of them, dwelling on what could’ve been, was the last thing she needed. They had gotten so close, almost able to close that chapter on their lives. To move on, to grow, to learn, to love, but then…
She had made her choice. Now she would have to live with it. They were from the Time Before. She had to live and deal with the Time After
Anne felt her throat constrict as she looked at the still daunting information on her screen. She decided a much needed break was in order if she ever had a hope of getting any work done. Closing her laptop and grabbing her keys she made her way out.
"I'm getting some air, I dunno when I'll be back," she called out to her parents. She barely registered their response, her mind still cluttered with numbers and equations as she slipped out the door.
LA was a big city, and as she grew older in the Time After, it had only opened up to her; its size was a comfort to her, a place a girl could get lost in. Escapism from the familiarity of her neighbourhood had become exploration, leading her to discover corners of the city that she could call hers.
One place in particular had become one of her favourites: The Aquarium of the Pacific. The aquarium, in particular the amphibian exhibit, had become one of the few places the budding young physicist could find some semblance of peace. It was a refuge she had discovered in high school, giving it just enough disconnect from the Time Before to not be buried by the past, yet still be able to trigger a sense of nostalgia that Anne could bask in without heartache. She mused if in another life she could've been a herpetologist, working with amphibians, maybe even working at this very aquarium. The thought brought an inexplicable peace to her mind–a world where she didn't need a physics degree to make her own portal back to Amphibia. She mused what Sprig would think of that version of her and her career choice.
She imagined what that life would’ve held for her. Here, standing in front of visitors, giving tours and sharing her love of amphibians. The exhibit at the aquarium was small, but she could imagine expanding it, maybe even decorate it to resemble her other home–a proper dedication to the people and the world she loved. A familiar ache lingered in her heart, though amongst the amphibians of Earth it lessened ever so slightly.
Standing in front of an enclosure labeled Diacamptodon tenebrosus , Anne leaned in to get a closer look at the newt inside. It stared at her, giving her a curious look. "Hey buddy," Anne whispered, humour lacing her words, a joke that would've only made sense to her slipping from her lips, "you seem pretty smart, know how to build a portal to Amphibia?"
"Ah! I see you've met Marcy!" A voice from behind her made Anne suddenly jump with a shriek, her moment of levity interrupted by the sudden presence of another. Turning she found herself facing the characteristic green polo and khakis of the aquarium's staff. "Whoops sorry didn't mean to startle ya."
The words took a moment to process in Anne's mind. Once they did, Anne felt her stomach drop. It was one thing to think about her dead best friend, it was another to hear her name uttered out loud–after running from it for so long, hearing the name again felt almost taboo. Feeling a buzzing sensation begin to fill her body, it felt as if she was an observer looking in. Her mind floating, she was barely able to respond with a choked, "Marcy?"
The worker–Jace judging by their name tag–rubbed the back of their head, suddenly sheepish. "Haha yup, named all these guys after Adventure Time characters! That's Marcy, that's Bubblegum, and those two in the back are Finn and Jake!"
Anne wished she could've been more polite–the worker was sweet, their explanation for the names of the newts adorable, but at that moment her instinct to put as much space between her and that exhibit as possible overrode any ideas of social grace. "Whoa! That's cool dude!" she said as she backed up into the glass of the exhibit, before doing an awkward shuffle sideways and darting away to make herself scarce. She stumbled past tour groups and fish tanks, willing back tears, hoping she didn't look as sick as she felt. She kept running, even as she exited the building into the parking lot. It was only once she managed to find a secluded spot that she allowed herself to let go and surrender to feelings overtaking her. She sat, isolated from the world, simultaneously numb and in agony, and allowed herself to cry. In her gut she knew she probably wouldn't be coming back to the aquarium for a while, the infection of the old wounds of her past spreading into her once sacred sanctuary.
"It's been seven years," she thought to herself, "why do I still feel like this?"
The question was pointless to ask. She already knew the answer–she had been running from it for years. It was impossible for a wound this deep to heal if left untreated.
Anne knew she could hear Sasha. She knew she should listen to her. She was saying something about machines, minds, and Marcy. The months they had spent together as co-commanders had only proved her a stalwart friend, but at that moment, listening to, looking at, thinking of Sasha only set her entire brain alight–her brain warring with its own conflicting emotions surrounding the girl. How dearly she loved her, how sickening that she was responsible for the tragedy in her arms.
Body. This was Marcy’s body, so limp and lifeless, feeling wrong and alien in so many ways. Even as Darcy, a horrific parody that wore her friend like a suit, it still felt more like the Marcy she knew than the corpse she hugged close to her. The only thing that felt familiar was her face, and even that sickened her. The peaceful look on it, as if she had simply fallen asleep, marked by the trails of green that betrayed her violent end.
Blood. That was Marcy’s blood, drenching Sasha and coating her sword that now lay discarded–pulled from the body that she wished she could will back to life. Even the blood was wrong–a murky green where vibrant red should’ve been in its place. What more had he done to her? How much had she suffered before the end? The ghost of the comfort she wished she could’ve provided weighed heavy in her breaking heart.
“Give her back.” A phrase she repeated, almost mindlessly now. A prayer that had once been answered by the very girl in her arms.
Burning blue anger flared inside her, not unlike the rage she felt in this very throne room when she watched, helpless, as Sprig fell. But there was no villain to fight this time. No righteous justice through which to channel her rage; only the cold, cruel reality that someone she loved was dead.
And that someone else she loved was responsible.
From the corner of her eye she saw movement of red drenched in green. Anne snapped her head towards her. The other girl's mouth was open, words about to flow from her lips. But something in the way Anne looked at her–the fire in her eyes, the grit of her teeth, the clench of her fist–caused Sasha to stop in her tracks and back away, leaving Anne to continue her mantra.
Give her back.
Give her back.
Give her back.
"Give her back!" A child shouted as she chased her friend around the sandbox, a doll firmly in the other's hand.
Anne wasn't sure why she came here–the park where it all began. That was the danger in allowing your brain to go into autopilot as you tried to find your back to your childhood home. Some ancient, long-forgotten part of her brain had defaulted to this route. Muscle memory and worn paths went hand in hand, the heart guiding when the mind wandered. Anne knew what had subconsciously led her here, the incident at the aquarium still reverberating in her mind. For some reason her heart always guided her back to them.
Idly she imagined finding them here, sitting on the bench, chatting about everything and nothing. She imagined them grinning widely as they saw her, jumping up to draw her into a hug. Sheepishly she would admit defeat on her schoolwork and ask Marcy for help–not ask her to do it for her like she had as a child, but ask to be guided so she could do it on her own. And Sasha. Sasha, who had changed so much since Amphibia, would stay by their side, smiling fondly at her nerds. Whenever they would take breaks she would hold them both in her arms and when they finally finished she would take them out on the town, new license in hand. Just her, her girls, and the whole world ahead of them.
But they weren't there, sitting on the bench–they could never be again. It remained resolutely empty, the park containing nothing but children and ghosts. Marcy and Sasha were lost to her; whatever friendship they had come so close to repairing irretrievably broken–the thread binding them severed, the scissors in Anne's own hand.
Marcy was dead. Her body was buried a few miles from her house, its small gravestone probably still covered in flowers from Anne’s last visit.
Sasha was…somewhere. Not for the first time, Anne wondered where she was now. They hadn’t gone to the same high school and her social media presence was non-existent–so unlike the Sasha she had once known. It was as if she had disappeared off the face of the earth the moment Anne had pushed her away.
Crying pierced the air of the playground. It seemed the child asking for her doll back had fallen, a harsh scrape marking her knee. Whatever game her friend had been playing ended with the other's tears. She rushed to her friend, doll in hand, clumsy but honest remorse that defined childhood apologies on her lips.
In the end it had been a passing thing. Within a minute the two had made up, sharing the doll between them. Anne smiled at their quick reconciliation, reminiscing about a time when life had been that simple. She hoped these girls' lives would stay simple a while longer.
“Anne, don’t do this!”
Her best friend, in this world or any other, pleaded with her, begging for her to change her mind. But she couldn’t let anyone else die today–she refused to let any of the deaths in this war be in vain. Mother Olm had told her about the spell in secret, a fallen star breaking the prophecy, leaving it as the last resort. Still, she had announced her intention to sacrifice herself; they deserved to know there was still hope…and if she was going to die the people she loved deserved to know it was going to happen.
“Please Anne, don’t go!” Sprig ran to her, tears freely falling, “You’re my everything, you changed my life!”
“And you changed mine,” Anne responded mournfully, clutching her brother’s hand in hers, “without you I wouldn’t be the person I am now. Please Sprig. You, all of you, are everything to me. I can’t let you, or anyone else die today.” With those words of finality she let go.
She spared herself a glance at Sasha, the other girl looking down in guilt at Marcy’s body, once again in her arms. She knew she should say something, anything, to her. But seeing her, seeing Marcy, only reminded her that everything was still too much, too fresh–there was so much to say, so little time as the moon drew ever closer.
I'm mad at you.
I don't want to be.
I know I shouldn't be.
What happened?
I still love you.
What do we do now?
I wish we had more time.
...
I’m sorry I’m about to die too.
If she had all the time in the world she would've opened Pandora's Box. She would tackle every monster, every single bit of anger, pain, hopelessness, and grief that flew out, hand in hand with Sasha. And at the end they would be left with hope amidst the despair, fragile and delicate but unwavering, a hope they could share in the dark.
But there was no time, the moon, its menacing red light–the promise of the death of Amphibia–was drawing ever closer.
Before she marched willingly to her death she took one last look at Sasha. For the last time, Anne summoned her powers, the power of her heart made manifest, and flew back into the castle to retrieve the stones, leaving Sasha and any chance to say anything to her behind. She knew her friend deserved better.
She wished she could give that to her.
She wished Marcy were still alive.
She wished she didn't have to die.
She wished.
She wished.
She wished for the one thing she knew she needed to wish for: “Help me save the world I love,” she whispered to the stones. Their blazing power filled her, burned her, tore her cells apart. Floating to the balcony, she raised her hand to the sky. Blue, pink, and green enveloped her, combining into white-hot fire. The power of divinity at her fingertips, burning her like a star. She willed the power focused, away from the crowd below her–the wrath of creation concentrated in the center of her palm. Defiantly, she released the energy–the radiant beam, a promise of hope to counter the Core's promise of despair, saying no one else will die today . As the beam connected with the Core’s final gambit it shattered the moon to dust. Amphibia was finally safe; she would be this war's final victim.
Power expended, Anne collapsed, exhausted. Barely hanging on to consciousness she felt Sprig’s arms as he cradled her, wearing a forced smile. She didn’t know when he had joined her on the balcony but she was happy that he did. “C’mon Anne you’ll be ok!” he said, trying to convince himself it was true.
His presence brought her comfort, but Anne couldn’t bear to see him so distraught. With the last of her energy she willed herself to make him smile one last time.
“Don’t cry, Sprig. It’s ok. Saving this world was the best decision I’ve ever made. My only regret is that…I never…got to see Love Choice 2.”
It was a white lie. Anne knew she was about to die with so many regrets. She never got to say goodbye to her parents, to Marcy. She couldn’t bring herself to talk to Sasha. But for her last memory to be Sprig’s genuine, if teary, laugh, she knew the lie was worth it.
Unable to hold on anymore, Anne let go.
I’ll see you soon Mar-mar.
As Anne backtracked to her childhood home, still feeling as if her mind was two steps behind her body, she inevitably passed the old haunts that reminded her of them . The old cafe they used to go to, still running and selling those awful unicorn frappés. The arcade where she and Sasha would do their Dance Dance Revolution routine while Marcy top-scored every cabinet. The hobby shop that Marcy would occasionally find a way to drag them to, showing off to them the new Creatures and Caverns figures she had just bought.
The hobby shop door that was now swinging open directly into Anne's face .
She dodged out of the way just in time as a short-haired blonde came stumbling out of the shop, arms entirely too full with bags. She walked backwards out of the shop, waving at someone inside, oblivious to the step behind her. Anne reacted without thinking, the girl's imminent fall likely obvious to everyone but her. Sure enough with a yell of, "WAAAAGH," and a gentle, "oof," Anne caught her, saving the girl from a broken neck.
"Sorry!" she said to Anne, followed by an even more embarrassed, "sorry…" as she looked over Anne's shoulder. Helping her up, Anne finally got a good look at the girl.
Her features were sharp, emphasizing the dark circles under her eyes even more. Her short cropped blonde hair was spiked and styled, almost enough to hide the fact that the haircut had been a very obvious messy home job. A beauty-mark dotted her left cheek, a scar marked the right. Her blu–brown? Her brown eyes met Anne's own.
Standing before Anne was Sasha Waybright.
She was alive.
How the hell was that fair?
Some cosmic deity had offered her its job and she had refused.
It had sent her back. Just like that. It had been so easy. Could it have brought Marcy back too? She never even got the chance to ask.
Cheers erupted around her, as the crowd from below that moved to the balcony to mourn Amphibia’s savior now celebrated her miraculous rebirth. Tackled into a group hug by the Plantars, Anne smiled despite herself. Still, she couldn't bring herself to celebrate her rebirth. She knew somewhere in the crowd was Sasha. She couldn't even bring herself to look at her anymore; new emotions joined the fray within her, eating her from the inside, threatening to tear out her newly beating heart.
Guilt.
Anger.
Both she and Marcy had died today but while she got to cheat death, go home, and live out the rest of her life, all Marcy would get was a wooden box and a hole in the ground. She had met a being with the power to bring her back and she hadn't even bothered to ask if it could bring her friend back too. She could’ve done more. She should’ve done more. A happy ending had once again been so close and yet…
She had failed them both.
On the other side of the portal–not the final portal, if Anne had something to say about it–she would fail Sasha one more time. Holding Marcy's body Anne stood next to her, unable to meet her gaze, the silence between them a growing divide that threatened to become too wide to bridge.
No one else on earth had experienced what they had. No one else could understand the loss that they had gone through. If anything, they needed each other now, more than anything. They were each other's last remaining best friend on Earth.
But everything was too much. Every emotion she felt, positive and negative, was amplified by the girl beside her. She desperately wanted to fall into the girl's arms and cry for the rest of time. Equally, she wanted to punch the girl, blame her for everything, if only to channel all the pain she felt somewhere. But despite it all, somewhere deep inside, past all the emotional turmoil, the confident, responsible girl, who had grown because of Amphibia, still existed. That part of her knew she couldn’t be around Sasha anymore–the pain they would cause each other would tear them apart.
But Anne was only a 14 year old child–one who was grieving and hurting in too many ways to process, and tact of phrase was one the furthest things from her mind. The words fell from her lips, an almost unconscious, instinctual stream, betraying the storm of emotions underneath.
"I never want to see you again."
It came out with no venom, but Anne was sure the words burned all the same. Sasha, to her credit, only nodded, tears already forming, and left Anne where she stood. A final honouring of Anne's wishes. Concrete proof she had changed for the better.
Anne would come to regret her words, even if the space was needed.
After all, that was the last time Anne saw Sasha for the next seven years.
"Anne! Oh my god! You! Me! Here!" Sasha screeched, energy levels discordant with how exhausted she looked. "How've you been!? I missed you so much I–" Sasha suddenly looked over Anne's shoulder, an expression of dawning realization growing on her face.
Anne reeled from the greeting, the sheer, unmitigated friendliness was the last thing she expected from the ghost of a girl standing in front of her. The more she looked at her former friend the more it dawned on her just how terrible Sasha looked. She was pale, even more than Anne remembered; sallow and sickly, she looked as if the sun would burn her to ash where she stood. Worse than that, she looked gaunt, a far cry from the proud warrior she had left behind. Combined with the dark circles and sunken eyes she looked practically skeletal.
"I'm…alright, Sasha. How've you been?" The question made Anne wince; not only did the long history between them make it feel disingenuous, it was also a ridiculous question to ask when the answer lay bare before her eyes.
Beyond her horrendous attempt at conversation there was something else that made Anne feel off. Sure she hadn't spoken to Sasha in almost a decade but the way she was acting was so off-kilter that it felt uncanny.
"Hmm? Sorry I, uh…drifted off I guess," Sasha replied, wringing her hands in a decidedly un-Sasha like way. "Listen I gotta go but uh…here I'll give you Sa–my new number. We could…catch up if you want?"
To Anne's surprise, from her satchel Sasha pulled out a notebook covered inch-to-inch in Vagabondia Chronicles, anime, and various other fandom stickers. As she ripped a page out, Anne glimpsed the notebook's contents just long enough to register the numerous sketches within; before she could get a closer look Sasha had closed the notebook, stuffing it back into the bag. Scribbling a number on the paper and handing it to Anne, Sasha flashed her a wide grin before readjusting the various bags in her hands and sauntering off.
By the time Anne could process the interaction Sasha was already a long way off, though not quite out of earshot. Faintly she overheard as Sasha talked to herself as she walked away, catching a snippet of, "Yeah? Well I think this'll be good for you."
Once more something began to brew inside Anne’s heart; a butterfly effect that began in the aquarium, rippling out in waves of emotional cause and effect, now threatened to unleash a storm. On the sidewalk, in front of her dead best friend’s old haunt, was the last place she wanted to face the churning emotion inside her.
Feet beginning to guide her home, her journey was stopped briefly by her foot making contact with a small package on the ground–a Creatures and Caverns figure, newly purchased and grey, waiting for its owner to bring it to life with colour. She picked it up; it was a warrior woman with short hair, sporting a cocky grin and wielding an enormous sword.
Concluding Sasha must have dropped it when she fell, Anne didn’t know what possessed her to hold onto it. Maybe it was spite. Maybe it was…something else. Either way the figure stayed firmly in her grasp as she rushed herself home.
In the other hand, Anne held a piece of paper, the wrinkles lacing it a testament to her anxiety. Frequently, against her better judgment, she looked down at the paper’s contents.
Sasha's number stared right back at her.