Darkness swirled around Rose as she fought for air. The steady flow of blood pulsed with her fading heart, pouring out of her side as she blinked in and out of consciousness. However close she knew the end was, and even through the inconsistent pattern of sharp pain and dull throbbing, she had the comfort of knowing, albeit dimly, that she had worked to prevent a timeline in which Roxy and Dirk would be slaughtered. Now, they would grow up safe, if a little paranoid.
They had to, after all. They would become her own mother and Dave's own brother, and then the cycle would be complete at last. The alpha timeline would be over and gone, a full loop formed from Dave and Jade's time and space shenanigans. The universe she had helped create would go on sometime in the past or future—Rose wasn't sure which, anymore. Nothing mattered in the face of death on the dry, hot asphalt of the former New York City.
Rose coughed weakly, feeling a trickle of blood well up in her mouth, and wondered whether Dave had made it out of all this alive. Her Seer's instincts told her he would die soon after her, but was currently alive, and she clung to that tiny fragment of hope fiercely. He had been more to her than a brother, after all. They had shared the last several months of their lives living together before they were ambushed, and she wouldn't have had it any other way. He was fiery passionate and icy cool at the same time, and he was the only one who could entice her to do anything she didn't want to do. Those months together almost made up for the death that awaited her now. Almost.
But, as with any relationship, there had been problems—though these ones were introduced by forces dark and evil and out of control, and not by herself or even the insufferable prick called Dave. Less than twenty-four hours ago, the Condesce had manipulated them into believing that each had done the other some trivial wrong, and split them up that way so they'd be easier targets. She knew, evidently, that no foe had ever escaped them when they fought together.
She had even foreseen this. Long ago, the Horrorterrors had whispered to her the tale of a martyr, dying for the sake of descendants she did not yet have. It had taken until it was far too late for her to realize it was her they described. She cursed herself with her sluggish thoughts for her complete and unforgivable idiocy. Nothing can redeem me for having ignored the signs. Why am I so stupid?
In her dying moments, Rose no longer remembered nor cared what she had thought Dave had done; all that was important was that she had fallen for it, played for the fool she was. There was a barrier between herself and Dave, now, that even death wouldn't remove unless he managed to figure out the Condesce's trickery before he was killed himself. This is even worse than Romeo and Juliet.
Footsteps raced over to her side. She didn't have the energy to see who it was or indeed do anything but clench her fist, shakily, weakly, but defiantly. Trying to sit up, she hazily watched the blood spill out of her thrice-punctured side, then gave up and lay back again. She was on the verge of admitting defeat and succumbing when Dave's face swam before her suddenly, his traditional 'coolkid' poker-face gone; he looked terrified.
"Rose!" he gasped, falling to his knees and panting from his sprint. "Rose, I'm so sorry! I'm such a fucking idiot!" She breathed a sigh of relief that cost her everything she had. Thank God… The world pulsed in and out, colors expanding beyond their lines and fading to grayscale. It would have been a beautiful sight if not for her present situation.
"…Don't go. You can still fight. Please, Rose." It was the first time she had ever heard him say 'please', even to her. "Fight for me." A warm tear dropped onto Rose's neck, followed by several more, and he held her close to him. "Please. We didn't fight Jack Noir for this. We didn't go through that entire fucking game for this." He kissed her forehead—Rose was vaguely conscious of his lips trembling.
She smiled at him, a smile she knew was marred by the blood seeping from her mouth and by the grim… irony of the situation in the first place, but a smile nonetheless. Rose tried to say something, anything, to convey her forgiveness and apology to him, but her lungs no longer tolerated the intake of air. She closed her eyes, awaiting the end. This is how it was meant to be.
The last thing she felt were Dave's lips on hers in a last, desperate attempt to resurrect her, or perhaps he was just accepting her silent and airless message. Then blackness swallowed her and she was gone, taking bittersweet comfort in the certainty that she'd have only to wait a few minutes before he followed.