Disclaimer: Dairine Callahan, the Young Wizards series, and all concepts contained therein belong to Diane Duane. The song Going Under and its lyrics are property of Evanescence. I own nothing, and that includes any profits you might hope to make from suing me: don't do it, it's not worth it.

Summary: Sitting in a subway station, Dairine's going under. Introspective, mild angst.  Songfic to Evanescence's song of the same title.

Author's note and secondary warnings: This was written in Sydney, Australia, and in part is a product of the heat of that city. It sprouted quite quickly, without me wanting it to, when I was in an underground railway station listening to Evanescence, and was struck by what I thought was a startling maybe-reflection on Dairine. I'm not entirely sure that Dairine was ever as unhappy as this… but it was good to explore, and it stuck with me for long enough that I wrote it down.

This was beta'd by the fabulous, tactful and kind Persephone Kore. I wish I could return the favour, but since I can't, all I can do is heartily fic-rec. Hers, and those she's co-written, are AWESOME. Read, read, read.

Going Under

Birdhead

It's late, and the station is not a central one: it's quiet. There are only a few people waiting, dimly lit by flickering fluorescent strips.  One of them sticks out somehow, though there's nothing particular that would draw a glance: a teenage girl, about thirteen.

She's sitting on the stairs by the tracks: thin, with long red curls that have collapsed around her shoulders and an unkempt T-shirt, on which can just be seen the letters   STAR WA…

Actually, she's not really sitting: she's slumped uncomfortably, one of the railings biting into her shoulder. But Dairine Callahan can't be bothered moving. It's soothing down here, with no one around- if maybe a bit too silent. Dairine can't quite hear anyone speaking, and it's uncomfortable: she's so used to the voices all around her of people and animals and things that this bareness is too much, driving her to move where physical discomfort had not. She fumbles in her backpack and pulls out a set of headphones, hitting play. "Now will I tell you what I've done for you…"

50 000 tears I've cried.

Screaming, deceiving and bleeding for you

And you still won't hear me.

(Going Under)

She relaxes a bit, into the beat: it fills her like the steady thrump and rock of train on track. She's not really listening, but it's filling up the silence and she's not thinking anymore, not about what's been happening, her fumbling in the dark and exhaustion. It's been bad since her mom died. Sometimes she can't stop crying, but she knows that's normal: anger too, but anger is harder to get away from.  Dairine has always been comfortable with anger, used it like a tool, but this is something different. A betrayal.

This is the thinking she doesn't want to do, she knows: if she does, it'll get worse. This is what she's turned on the music to escape, but as always finds inescapable. She can't help it: the thoughts keep coming, whisper through the music, another tiny betrayal, an inability to hide: that she could have done something, that she didn't work hard enough. That Nita didn't work hard enough. But loudest of all, that it's not fair.

Dairine knows she's valuable: she also knows she's a good wizard, and not just because of her early power, but because she's willing to bleed and work with fingers slippery with it to finish what she's started. She's worked hard for the Powers, saving lives.

But when she needed Them, just for one life, they weren't listening.

Don't want your hand

This time I'll save myself

Maybe I'll wake up for once (wake up for once)

Not tormented daily

Defeated by you

Just when I thought I'd reached the bottom

The train is still not in: on the next platform, a train hisses past and people board. No one gets off: Dairine is left virtually alone. She doesn't want Their help any more: a part of her no longer wants any of it. Even the magic. If it's all for nothing. When Dairine took the Oath,  It picked her up and took her away into the stars, filling all the gaps she'd had. Filling loneliness with friends, filling Spot with all the secrets of the universe, so numerous that she could never learn them all, and offering the promise of wizardry. The magic.

The gaps she's got now she'll fill herself, with a little putty and one or two distractions, deceptions. Or in a while she will: at the moment she keeps feeling them growing bigger, splitting, and at the same time her wizardry's running away from her, and she can't get it back.

Part of her isn't trying. Why should she?

I'm dying again,

I'm going under

Drawing you

I'm falling forever

You've got to break through

I'm going under

At the moment, effort seems impossible to Dairine, far beyond her. She's exhausted, sleeping the sleep of the dead and waking still tired, stumbling through class and staring at Spot for hours before touching it, tapping a little at the keyboard before leaving it, slipping back under the sheets. When she sees Nita, she can't bear to look at her, because she knows what Nita's feeling and cannot bear to see it etched in her face the way she knows it must be etched on hers: Dairine's falling too fast to watch out for her elder sister.

Blurring and stirring the truth and the lies

So I don't know what's real and what's not

Always confusing the thoughts in my head

So I can't trust myself any more

She thinks briefly about getting on the next train to anywhere, no matter if it's going home or not: just letting it take her.

So she's falling. So what? She'll come back up, back to the powers and wizardry. She thinks so, anyway, though when she's crying in the night it can be hard to remember the feeling of the universe listening, or the sight of the Earth rising above Copernicus. But she'll come through in the end.

When she does see Nita, though, or her dad or Kit or bumps into a classmate or a teacher who enquires after her, she's still got enough energy left to lie. Or half-lie: she's still too much of a wizard to lie all the way. And she still doesn't want to give that up…

… does she? Somehow she can't recall whether it'd be worth it.

And anyway, it's not really a lie, what she tells them: she is fine.

But she won't say it in the Speech.

I'm dying again,

I'm going under

Drawing you

I'm falling forever

You've got to break through

I'm going under

Dairine knows that she should be getting home soon; she'll take the next train, she thinks. She could do a transit home: it's late, and even if she's not supposed to waste energy on non-errantry related travel, she doubts if anyone would notice, or comment if they did. But she hasn't the energy herself; besides, she left Spot at home today. She has most days; he's starting to gather dust.

So go on and scream

Scream at me

I'm so far away from home

I won't be broken again

I've got to breathe, I can't keep

Going Under

Part of Dairine is starting to get angry in a different way. This time directed at herself, but not the anger of guilt and recriminations; it's hotter and harder, a righteous anger at the way she's giving up, giving in.  She has a distant, but ever-nearing realisation that sliding under is not the way she is. Apathy and Dairine have never been friends, and the part of her that still remembers that is raging.

I'm dying again,

I'm going under

Drawing you

I'm falling forever

You've got to break through

I'm going under

The song is wending to a close when the last train hisses into the station. Surprising herself, Dairine jerks out of her slump and stands, picking up her backpack and walking almost briskly towards the doors.  If she is going under, this is how she'll do it.

Going Under

I'm Going Under