(Content Warning: Bad Language - more than last time!)
Bad News
Ali's eyes opened, and hastily shut again.
Ouch, ouch, ouch...too bright. Much too bright. And what the fuck is that din?
Opening her eyes as little as she could, she squinted to see around the room. Her head pounded as she tried to make sense of the situation. This...wasn't bed. She twisted her neck and felt the nerves and muscles ping and twang as they were pulled from the position they had settled in for the night. Lifting an arm to massage the aching muscles, she felt a similar feeling in her shoulder and elbow, and as she flexed her wrist, the feeling spread.
Ugh...! What the...?
Rubbing her neck, she once more opened her eyes and blearily tried to figure out where she was and what had lead her to the odd, and painful, sleeping position she had ended up in.
This is...the...living room...
She stretched her back, going from her slumped position into an upright one. She exclaimed as she felt the discs in her back unseize and begin to move normally once more. She realised she was sat at the dining table, her painful eyes spotting far more bottles on the table than could possibly be healthy for a woman drinking alone.
I didn't drink that much. ...Did I?
The TV was on, blaring some hiphop/rap mashup crap. With a loud groan, Ali tentatively lifted herself from the seat and took a few moments to find her balance. Slowly, she moved towards the TV, and with great relief pressed the "off" button.
Ah, beautiful, precious, wonderful silence. Yes. That's better. Fuck, this is a bitch of a hangover...
She manoeuvred herself over to the kitchen, pouring herself large glasses of water and drinking them thirstily. Rehydrating helped; her eyes felt slightly less sore, and her headache subsided a fair amount. Feeling steadier on her feet, she moved to the window and shut the curtains.
Let's give myself the best chance of not feeling shit all day...
She sat down on the sofa, pulling up the blankets (that she had left there since news of Nat's death had reached her) to wrap around her, and sighed deeply. Putting her hand to her temple, she frowned. This wasn't her. This wasn't what she did. Well...kind of. She had had a long low period after she witnessed the first death on her first tour of duty, but her grief had been put into training more and more each day to make sure that the next time, she could defend her comrades. The circumstances surrounding Nat's death were different. She could have stopped it. Had she not decided to take verbal potshots at him for past mistakes, and instead focussed on the way they worked well as a team, she and Nat would have gone looking for her old military contacts and friends, and John could have gone with Frontier. It would have saved Nat's life. Would it have cost John his?
She made the difference here...but not through lack of prowess or inability to fight. It was her pride and sharp tongue that had lead to the team division that had occurred. Training to fight better couldn't fix her personality. Alcohol...well...it couldn't fix it but it could change it, at least...just for a time.
Though she'd never admit it, there was a secondary benefit to turning to the bottle. She was able to forget all of the guilt and sorrow and pain and grief that plagued her, for at least a short while. It let her do stupid shit instead (apparently), and made her far better company for the people she happened upon while inebriated. So far she hadn't got herself into too much trouble. She might have made herself a little more visible to those who wished "changelings" harm than she might have ought to; everyone carried smartphones, of course, and her 'makeup' was so eyecatching that everyone out for a night of fun seemed to migrate in her direction and try and get photos with her/of her. At the time it all seemed fun and a little surreal; like being a model except it wasn't her beauty they were staring at, it was the oddity of her appearance that caught their eyes. When she was sober; when the cold light of reality once more caught up with her, she knew the danger that her visibility put her in. But she couldn't bring herself to care.
She was once more to be an outcast, without the support Nat had provided her; without the friendship and warmth they had captured together. She had always quietly believed Nat was her 'anchor'; the one person that kept her tied to her humanity. And if her drinking; her continual attempts to escape her human emotions and human pain was anything to go on, she was right. Without Nat, she was spiralling away from what had made her Alixandra Greenwood...and closer and closer to being "just another Paladin". Her desperation to leave her pain and emotion behind should have been a warning sign. It should have been a glaring concern; the metaphorical "STOP. ROAD AHEAD CLOSED" sign before she plunged off the bridge into the murky depths below. Instead, it was nothing but frustrating. Frustrating that she had to continually drink herself into oblivion before the grief and guilt would finally shut the fuck up and just let her be.
She took a deep breath. As she tried once more to gather her thoughts, she was interrupted by a loud, incessant buzzing. Yelping in pain as her headache pounded sharply, in time with the buzzing, she reached a hand out and picked her phone up off the floor.
Sun 27 Sep | 15:40 | Writing History - NAT!!! | Alarm
She flicked the screen and the text was replaced.
Alarm Scheduled: 10:00 Sun 27 Sep | Repeat: Every 10 Minutes
"FUCK!" She shouted. Leaping up from the sofa, her head throbbed. Taking her aback, she lost her delicate balance and ended up back on the sofa.
"Fuck, fuck, fuck..." She cursed under her breath. There was no way she was fit enough to join the others, besides, there was no guarantee that she would find them. The Pathways were difficult to navigate at the best of times, especially given the need to navigate them in exactly the right way to reach the right place. Letting out a massive growl of frustration and internalised anger, she switched into her email provider and began to type.
FROM: Ali
TO: John
SUBJECT: History
Sorry I wasn't able to join you today...apparently even 'Changelings' need sleep. Did you try the whole "time travel" shit? And if so, I take it things went okay because we don't have dinosaur overlords and crap, or...giant amoebas slurping their way through the streets or...regressed to the Mediaeval Age...or...
Look, I guess I should just get to it and stop stalling.
Did it work? Is Nat okay?
A.
She hit the "send" button, and stared at the screen, her mouth twisted into a deep frown. She sat in that same position for fifteen minutes before she accepted that a reply was not going to be forthcoming. Wrapping herself in the blanket, the phone held tight to her chest, she laid on the sofa, her mind running through all kinds of scenarios. What if they did, by some chance, manage to bring him back? What would it mean for the two of them? Would everything be the same...or...would it all change? Would he not even know anything had happened, or would he be aware they had done something to protect him? Would he forgive her for not being there when he returned? After some time, these thoughts still whirling, she drifted off into a fitful sleep, filled with hopeful dreams of reunions and relief, hungover randomness and fear-inspired nightmares, all bundling together.
Sometime later that evening, she was awoken by a buzzing on her chest. Almost instantly, she awoke, bringing the phone out from beneath the blankets.
FROM: John
TO: Ali
SUBJECT: RE: History
Let's start with the bad news: Nat is not OK.
He is alive, but working with the wild cultists. It is hard to explain, but if you bring someone back they've still lost something that was them. The spark is gone.
We are sorry. I am sorry.
We have discovered much and lost deeply. Now is the time for war.
Everyone is upset; everyone has lost a friend. We all have work to do.
J.
She sat, silent for a few minutes, reading and re-reading the message. "A friend", she laughed, hollowly. Of course, that's all he was. He was back...but not. His body was, by the sound of it...but Nat...how much of him really remained? The thought of him; whatever was left of him, working alongside the wild mages chilled her heart. She couldn't allow that. She needed to bring him back. Even if it was just to make completely sure he wasn't somewhere in there. She couldn't, couldn't let him remain with the wild mages.
Her thoughts turned to her abilities. She was able to purify wild mages before. She was able to get rid of the plague that grew on and within them. If Nat was only working with the wild mages...she could purify him. Then they would have more time and a better chance of perhaps finding whatever tiny piece of "Nat" still resided in his shell.
Breathing deeply, she began her reply.
FROM: Ali
TO: John
SUBJECT: RE: History
The Djinn said that he wasn't strong enough for them to bring him back. They said that...they could bring *something* of him...back.
I guess...that's what we've done...
If…I was there…maybe I’d have been able to help him find more of himself…maybe…
No…I guess now’s not the time for “maybe”s.
You’re right, we’ve all lost a…friend.
We need to stop him…or what’s left of him…from being amongst the wild cult. We need to bring him back. Fuck it if it’s not “all him” or whatever, part of that…being…is Nat. We can’t let them take him.
I have one very important question to ask: Was he alive? Or is he a spirit…ghost…thing? And is he infected with the Wild Magic or is he just working with them?
That wasn't "one", but whatfuckingever.
A.
She sent the message before re-reading it. She realised after a moment that she had begun to babble. She prayed John didn't read into it. She prayed that he would just let it slide. The last thing she needed right now was anyone trying to console her. Nat's body...was out there. Nat...
She frowned. Something of Nat must have been brought back. Something had to survive. It had to. And she'd find it. Somehow, she would find that tiny piece of Nat and bring it back to the forefront. She had to do it, for him. If she could purify him...she could make things at least a tiny bit better than it had become. She had to remember that. She could at least try to make amends; to atone for sending him off to die in the first place.
The phone buzzed. She looked down at John's reply.
FROM: John
TO: Ali
SUBJECT: RE: History
He is alive, but his soul is missing.
He is infected with wild magic, and the one thing that could make it possible to save him is missing.
This is not a faction thing, this is a dying thing.
J.
"GODFUCKINGDAMMIT!" She spat, viciously. She felt the hot tears of anger well behind her eyes. She had seen what purifying someone without a soul had done before. She couldn't do that to Nat. Not after seeing the agony the ghost had been in from her attempts to help. "...Fuck." She breathed, her anger evaporating, dawning horror and sorrow taking its place. Their attempt to save him had lead them to creating some kind of purgatory for Nat's body and whatever...if anything...remained of him. She was beginning to doubt if there was anything left of him there. If his soul had not returned alongside his body...was there anything of the Nat she had fallen in love with, left within the shell of his body at all? She was torn. In some ways, she hoped not. It would mean that his consciousness really wasn't going through this...this 'halflife' that his well-meaning friends had accidentally given him. In other, more selfish ways, she hoped there was even just the slightest flicker of him left in there. She would at least get to see him once more...to be there to try and make things...less bad.
What if he didn't leave the wild mages? Ali suddenly thought. Would they be forced to kill him? Wait, she had said she was going to leave the wild mages to their own devices, in return for taking her remaining ex-military friends away from them. A long string of loud, angrily spat expletives left her mouth. Would she really risk the wrath of the wild mages and their leader to rescue Nat's body, with no guarantee there was anything left of his consciousness within it?
She snorted. Of course she fucking would. The fact she even pondered on that question made her roll her eyes. She wasn't going to let them keep anything relating to Nat, body, consciousness, whatever. They weren't going to keep him. She'd make damned certain of that. She would bring him back, whether he wanted to leave or not. She had to. There was no question about it.
She picked her phone up, and began to type again.
FROM: Ali
TO: John
SUBJECT: RE: History
I know it's not a faction thing. But I still don't want him...with...THEM. I was asking to see if I might stand a chance of purifying the wild magic from him but...without his soul...it would be the cruellest of...well...RE-deaths. I've seen it happen before.
Oh Nat...I am so sorry we’ve done this to you...
Ali shook her head. What was to happen in the near future was not going to be pleasant. She had voiced her concern about getting her hopes up about Nat's potential return, and now she had the worst of both worlds. Nat was dead but...something was walking around in his body, and there was no guarantee that there would be anything remotely resembling Nat within it.
She stood up and made her way to the kitchen. Grabbing whatever alcohol remained from her binge the day before, she carried the armfuls of booze back into the living room.
Sitting on the floor, her back against the base of the sofa, she opened the cap of the first bottle. Things had been shit before. Now...she gulped...things had reached a level of shit she had previously been incapable of dreaming of.
Bringing the bottle closer to her lips, she felt the tears well up again. "I don't know if you're in there, Nat, or not." She began, to the world in general, "...I..." she heard her voice crack, "...I really, truly hope you're not. I hope you're somewhere better than..."she sighed, feeling a tear roll down her cheek, "...what we've given you. But...if you're not..." She gulped. "...I'll be coming. I'll find you. And I'll bring you back. I don't care what it takes." She raised the bottle to the sky. "I promise."
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