(Okay, everyone else was writing an Aftermath fic for the Society, SO I THOUGHT I'D GIVE IT A SHOT. SCORE ONE FOR PEER PRESSURE! Anyway, this is a little darker and more serious than I'm used to writing, BUT VARIETY IS THE SPICE OF LIFE. Enjoy!)
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Carved In Stone
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It had been weeks since the Library Arcanium's infamous invasion—the one that very nearly spelled the end of the Anti-Cliché and Mary Sue Elimination Society—and the dark feeling was still hanging about. The invading Sues were long dead, but they weren't the only ones.
Adrian had perished in battle.
The Society agents all had their own ways of mourning this loss…some in stranger ways than others.
Marcus had split himself at the funeral ceremony and his emotion half cried a river of tears, but after that, even after splitting himself, it was as if he no longer cared about the loss of such a close friend…or perhaps he did.
Every day, whenever he wasn't on a mission or having meals, Marcus had taken to locking himself in his art studio. He was clearly still splitting himself—he never shouted like that when he was whole—but just what he was doing was a mystery. The only clue the Society could seem to gather was that he was working on a project and constantly deeming it sub-par. Every angry rant was punctuated by a loud explosion.
"Marcus!" Tash shouted after two weeks of this, rapping on the studio door. "What are you working on in there?"
"YOU'LL SEE WHEN IT'S DONE!" Emotion Marcus screamed out. "UNTIL THEN, LEAVE ME ALONE!"
Scowling, Tash stormed off.
Inside, Emotion Marcus rolled his eyes and let out a low growl. For days now, Society members had been trying to convince him to come out of the studio, or let them in, or talk to them. As if what he was doing was unimportant! That, combined with his constant screw-ups on this project due to his clumsy fingers (this one was cross-eyed, that one had scrawny legs, etc.), had prolonged his efforts longer and longer when he'd left multiple times to make paintings to express his fury, which were hanging on the wall next to him.
Still, it looked like he might just have it right this time. The form was nice, the proportions accurate, and the overall feeling emanating from it was one of power and righteousness.
Stepping away from the project, he looked carefully to inspect his work. Holding his dragon talisman copy (a gift from Tash from last Christmas) in preparation for a failure, he gazed at the creation from every possible angle. At last, perfection!
The sculpture was a perfect match for Adrian.
Emotion Marcus happily danced around the room, whooping in ecstasy. At long last, it was time!
"THOUGHT, GET OVER HERE!" Emotion Marcus yelled.
Sighing, the thought half rose from his desk in the corner, where he had been filing paperwork, took his place beside his other half, and held their duplicate tiger talisman halves together, uniting them into the one true Marcus.
Smiling, Marcus reached into his pocket and pulled out yet another item: another talisman copy that he'd traded his rabbit one for (he was terrible at making sharp turns, anyway).
Gently, he held the rat talisman copy up to the statue's chest, where it was quickly absorbed inside.
There was a brief flash of light, and the statue of Adrian, once made of white marble, was now full-color flesh and blood.
Then, without a word, the statue reached into its chest and handed the talisman back to Marcus, returning to sculpture form.
"Wha?" Marcus mumbled, placing the talisman copy back inside. Once again, the statue came to life, and once again, it handed the talisman back and returned to normal.
Scowling, Marcus repeated the process once more, but this time, as the statue reached for its breast, Marcus grabbed it by the wrist.
"What are you doing?" the bandaged agent demanded.
"This isn't right," the statue replied, a sympathetic look in its eyes and a sad smile on its face. "I can't come back."
"What do you mean?" Marcus asked, maybe a little too harshly, as he removed his hand from the statue's wrist. "The Society needs you, Adrian!"
"No, it doesn't," the statue said, shaking its head. "It may think it does, but it doesn't. I'm a crutch now, Marcus—nothing more."
"No, you're not!" Marcus snapped. "You're a valued member, and a beloved friend! Please, I brought you back to help all of us!"
"You don't need my help, Marcus. In fact, I was holding all of you back. Half the time all I did was bail you out. Now, without me, you have room to grow."
"We don't care! This isn't just about our jobs! This is about you, and the empty space you've left behind!"
"Time heals all wounds," the statue replied with a gentle smile. "They'll move on."
"Why should they have to?" Marcus snapped, crossing his arms. "I brought you back for exactly that reason!"
"'Exactly'?" the statue smirked. "I doubt that. I have a hard time believing that this was a purely selfless act, Marcus."
Marcus sighed and shifted his feet. "I suppose it wasn't," he said after a long silence. "But I really am doing this for them as well."
"I know you think this is for the best, Marcus, but it just isn't. I'm dead, Marcus, and that's that. You need to accept it."
Another long silence went by before Marcus finally said "I've lost enough. I want you back."
"I know it's hard," the statue said sympathetically. "But it's a part of life. Things die. It's how the world works. And it would be a terrible thing if they didn't."
Marcus said nothing.
"Marcus," the statue whispered. "You're one of the strongest people I've ever met. You can get past this, and you can help the others do it without resorting to unethical magics. You and I both know it."
Marcus was still silent.
"I'm dead, Marcus. I don't fight it. Why must you?"
Marcus still refused to speak.
"I'm sorry you have to take it like this, Marcus," the statue apologized, now sounding a little impatient. "But I'm simply not going to go through with this. Good-bye."
With that, the statue removed the talisman copy and returned to its lifeless state of white marble.
Anger boiled up inside of Marcus. Weeks of tireless sculpting for nothing! Seething with rage, he pulled out his dragon talisman copy and prepared to blast the statue smithereens, but when the time came, he just couldn't do it.
The statue was right. Deep down, he knew this never would've worked, anyway. But what to do now?
Marcus thought for a minute and, very slowly, a smile crept across his countenance.
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Later that day, Marcus called everyone together to see his new shrine to Adrian, the noble hero that, even in death, had helped him find his way.
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(I have little to say here. I THINK THE STORY SUMMED IT UP. I hope it really hit back home for anyone here who's ever lost a cherished friend. Thank you.)