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Atlanta is quiet, at the end of the world. It’s the first time Jay’s come back - well, second, if you count dropping off her book - since everything happened. She finds comfort in the silence, in being alone in what will likely be her final moments. It’s a fitting end, to fly into a purgatory of sorts.
She prepares to take off with her elytra, to fly towards her once-home and now-grave, when the sound of a firework overhead throws her off balance. Jay stumbles back a few steps, her sword in her hand in an instant - there aren’t many people who would be near Atlanta at this time, and she’s not sure she’d like to talk to any of them.
She turns, bracing for a fight - whether with weapons or with words - but freezes at the blur of purple she sees as the newcomer lands.
“Meep?”
It’s certainly not who Jay expected, and far from the worst option of all the possibilities, but her heart pounds nonetheless - a confrontation is far from what she wants, at the end of it all. At least, to Jay’s relief, Meep looks just as surprised to see her as she is to see it.
“Oh. Hi Jay.”
No matter how hard she tries, Jay can’t read the expression on her former teammate’s face. Is that disappointment in its voice? Maybe it wanted to come here alone, just like Jay planned to be. She supposes Meep has far more of a right to it than Jay herself does.
“So,” Jay starts, then pauses. She’s talked to Meep very few times, she’s now realizing. What can she even say to it other than- “Do you want to be the one to ban me?”
It’s an impulsive ask, one she never would have even considered otherwise, so Meep’s look of surprise and confusion is understandable.
“What?”
“Do you want to ban me?” It feels silly to ask again, for a moment - Jay doubts Van or Vio would approve, after all - but this feels as fitting an end as any. Meep, however, still doesn’t seem to understand.
“Why would I want to do that?” The confusion in its voice is genuine, and it gives Jay pause.
“You don’t want to?” she asks, floundering for words. “I betrayed you,”
“Well, yeah, but I never hated you.”
And that is a revelation, and certainly one Jay never expected. She feels, for a moment, as though her whole world has been flipped upside down. As though she is being torn relentlessly between hope and guilt before settling on grief. It’s not like they have any time left, after all. She opens her mouth to say something, anything, but Meep beats her to it.
“So why did you betray?” It’s a simple question, and Meep’s curiosity seems genuine enough, but it puts Jay on edge nonetheless. Her every instinct screams that the conversation is a trap, that she should lie. That she ought to draw Meep’s ire, convince it to be the one to ban her. But here, at the end of the world, Jay can’t find it in herself to lie. She owes Meep this honesty.
“I wanted to be useful to someone. I guess it just didn’t matter who it ended up being.”
“Oh.” Meep’s response is quiet; considering. Or maybe it’s hurt that Jay detects.
She winces at the silence that follows, no longer comforting like it was when she was alone. She’s scared to look at Meep’s face, but she turns her head anyway. It isn’t looking back, instead staring at where Atlanta would be.
“That’s why I helped kill the villagers. To be useful.”
And still, Jay wishes she could read Meep’s expression, its tone. Is it bitterness or understanding that she hears? Or is it a strange mix of both? Either way, Meep’s words cut to her core - this is what she could have done instead.
“Oh.” It’s her turn to fall into silence, unsure how to respond. For a moment, a vision of a different fate flashes through her mind. Maybe if she’d just talked to Meep, she’d have realized their similarities. Maybe she’d never have betrayed. She wants to laugh, though she doesn’t think Meep would appreciate that response. “I never realized.”
“Yeah.”
They both lapse into silence again, though it’s a more comfortable one this time. One last sunset, at the end of the world.
“No,” Meep says, out of nowhere. It locks eyes with Jay for a brief second, something unreadable in its expression, before it looks back out at Atlanta.
“Huh?” Try as she might, Jay can’t imagine what Meep could possibly be saying ‘no’ to. She thinks back through their conversation, desperately trying to remember anything that could prompt a response. The only thing it might be in response to is-
“I don’t want to ban you.”
Jay doesn’t know whether to feel disappointed or relieved. There’s a part of her, still, that longs for closure in the only way that’s familiar. But the rest of her knows that being banned has only ever been a selfish desire, and something that isn’t deserved. It wouldn’t be right to ask Meep to ban her if it doesn’t want to. It wouldn’t be fair, and she wants to do this one thing right at least.
“I get it.”
There’s so much more she thinks she should say, but the words are all just out of reach. The timer to the end ticks down slowly and she hears Meep take a few steps back.
“I’ve got to go,” it says, though it sounds hesitant. Regretful, almost, though Jay can’t quite imagine why. Either way, Meep takes off before Jay can get any words out, as though it will change its mind if it stays a moment longer. Or maybe that’s just wishful thinking.
Either way, Jay closes her eyes and takes a deep breath.
“I’m sorry,” she whispers out loud, moments too late and unsure who she’s really apologizing to. Then, as the sun disappears behind the horizon for the final time in her life, she flies into Atlanta.