Work Text:
Scar stepped up to the Secret Keeper’s altar, pushed one of the buttons, and red sparks filled his vision. The scroll in his hand fizzled into nothing. Then a second later, another one appeared. Scar hesitated, then opened it.
Win Secret Life.
Scar’s brows furrowed, and he pressed the button again. The scroll disappeared, and a new one replaced it.
Win Secret Life.
He pressed it again.
Win Secret Life.
Again.
Win-
Scar collapsed against the cold hard stone of the podium that he resented, gasping for relief. The scroll was clenched in his hands, his nails tearing into the parchment, clawing through the words burned into his mind.
Win Secret Life.
But he won. He succeeded. He made it. Alone, sure. Friendless, helpless , but he made it. He won . Right?
His mind was screaming for freedom, for release, for death. To join his friends, to make amends, to apologize. To Tango, to Etho, to Cleo, to Impulse, to Gem, to Pearl. God, he missed them. As his breathing slowed, he wondered if they were there with him. He wondered if they would wait. Would they? For him?
His heartbeat hitched in his chest, and for a second he thought he was dying. He almost smiled, before he felt another beat pound in his chest.
He closed his eyes. He kept breathing.