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Thud.
Anya’s body hits the floor as she clutches her stomach, head slumping forward with a sudden heaviness. Fuck, she really shouldn’t have done this. Although, that brings the question— what else was there to do at this point?
Everything came so quickly, it was almost scary— the crash, Jimmy taking over, and above all else knowing she’d die here. They’d all die here. It’s not something she wants to think about, but as death creeps up on her and her vulnerability she can’t help but stare at the empty tube of paracetamols.
“Anya?!”
Daisuke’s voice rings out through the medical office. Of everybody on the ship, he was her favourite; always so lighthearted and sweet despite the conditions, and pretty funny too. She’ll miss him the most when she’s gone.
As much as she’d like to get up and open the door, hug him and tell him everybody’s okay, she can’t. A splutter interrupts her attempted speech, and before she can comprehend it there’s vomit streaming down her face. An attempt at purging the overwhelming amount of drugs in her body was long overdue, because it’s already beginning to work.
“Anya, are you okay?!”
It’s almost pitiful to have to listen to his concern, knowing she can do nothing to reassure him. Just a few minutes more and she won’t have to bear it, but it’s still horrible no less. Regret begins to settle in, but at the same time, so does contentment; perhaps this isn’t the way she wanted to die, but it’s certainly nice to choose how she leaves.
Dizziness begins to hit, and in an attempt to rid it, Anya looks over to the bed, only to be met with the sight of her former captain.
Ah.
How pitiful.
“It’s alright, capt’n..”
Anya chokes out her words, spluttering as she dribbles and vomits all down herself. She can no longer feel her hands, and her stomach is cursed with a pain so strong she can barely fathom it.
“Dn’t worry ‘bout me... s too late for both ‘f us..”
A hand goes to grasp her aching stomach. How could she forget what lies there? A burden, nothing more.
Consciousness slips from her grasp slowly, blood dripping from her nose as she splutters again. How pathetic.
In her last moments, she prays for the ship. Prays for the downfall of Jimmy, prays for the happiness of Swansea, prays for the recovery of Curly and prays for the future of Daisuke.
Of course, none of it is going to happen.
But it’s nice to think it is.
Especially as she feels herself slipping away, body chained to the godforsaken Pony Express.