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To her, it makes no sense that she can be the one people look to.
It makes zero sense at all that she gets to command a team of whom she can't even keep alive.
Nyx is dead, and so is One because she couldn’t protect them. They trusted her to be their leader and she failed.
She’s failed in every sense of the word. As a person– by endangering every person she gets close to and by letting herself fall back onto the despicable habits of her Portia Lin. She has tried so hard to be better than that but it’s become increasingly apparent that she never will be. She can’t be.
She has failed to protect her people. She should have never let Five or Three or Six or herself go to the space station. It wasn’t worth it because now Nyx is dead. She’d let herself believe that she could form a new connection and welcome someone new to her team, and now, because of her failures, Nyx is dead. Five and Six are safe, but they almost weren’t. And Three almost didn’t make it out alive.
Because she failed them.
It shouldn’t hurt this bad, but it does combined with the weight of every person hurt because of her shortcomings.
And that is why she is now staring down the barrel of her own gun in her room, finger idling near the trigger. She’s still on her bed, legs crossed with both hands on the pistol. She could very easily get it over with and take her life like she maybe could with just one movement.
It’s important to take into account that she has responsibilities here on the raza. If she doesn’t lead her team then who will?
But she knows that's bullshit. She’s a failure of a commander. Three could take her spot right now and even he, who has a knack for danger, could lead and protect his own better than she could. There's nothing really keeping her.
Her finger twitches on the trigger.
She hears a beeping on her com, followed by Five's voice. Her finger slowly comes off the trigger.
“Two, are you in there? ” Five asks over the coms and Two knows she's just outside the door.
“Yeah, come inside.” Two respond before dropping the gun softly onto her bed beside her.
Moments later, the door to her room opens and she sees Five standing there in her plaid flannel and flamingo littered shirt.
“Hey, what's up?” Two says, her voice a little raspy because it hasn’t been used in hours.
“Hi, so, I was wondering if you wanted to watch a movie with me?” She asks hopefully. “I think Three and Six are busy doing other stuff.”
“Yeah, sure, just give me five minutes and I’ll meet you in the common room.” Two smiles softly.
A grin spreads across Five's face. “Great! I’ve got hot chocolates and popcorn from the last space station we stopped at and a copy of star wars thirty eight!” Say five joyfully.
Two sees her eyes drift towards the bed where her gun lies and she frowns.
“Why’s that there?” Five questions. Two doesn't leave her guns lying around (or on the walls) like Three, so Five is probably confused.
“I was cleaning my guns.”
“I don’t see any cleaning supplies,” says Five hesitantly, brow furrowing in confusion.
“Well, I was about to– but that can wait until later. Bullets fly just as well from a gun that's dusty.” Two lies gracefully. She thinks that a few months ago, Five would have been put off by a comment like that, but now she’ll probably just see it as Two making time for friendships.
“Hm, okay. I’ll be in the common room.” Five says, smiling again, before turning to leave.
“Be there in five.” Two promises as the younger girl walks out.
Two sits there in silence for a moment after Five leaves. Then she gets up, picks up the gun, and places it back in her drawer where it belongs right now.
Her stomach churns as she eyes the weapon. Five would have been standing right outside the door, and she'd probably be scared out of her mind.
She wasn't going to do it anyway. Probably. She has... responsibilities.
She closes the drawer with a sigh.
She doesn’t need it, not now. Not when she has people. Not when she has Five, a girl who’s like a sister to her, waiting for her, blissfully unaware with popcorn and hot chocolate heating up across the ship.
Not now.