Work Text:
“Nuclear weapons?” David turns pale under his tan. “Tally … you wouldn’t.”
“I have to.”
He turns away, braced against the wooden bedframe they’ve been sharing for twenty years. “If you do this, you’ll become someone I don’t know.”
All her faces he’s loved - ugly, pretty, special - and suddenly he can’t stand the sight of her. Clarity stabs her, sharp as the ice she fell through when she was sixteen.
“If you don’t get why I’m doing this, then I don’t know you either,” are her last words to him.
Because if there’s one thing Tally Youngblood does well, it’s escape.