Willow groaned, looking at the alarm clock on her night stand. 5.00AM. Preferably not the time she would want to wake up, but hey, beggars weren't choosers. At least she'd gotten a bit of sleep tonight. Sometimes her insomnia lasted for days, the nightmares not letting her get even a wink. This was a pretty peaceful night, all things considered.
The young woman looked out the window. The night sky was still pitch black, with only a few stars visible. She still had to get used to that. Having a roof over her head, that is. Not that she was complaining.
The firestarter got out of bed to start her day, knowing that sleep was impossible now. Turning on the lights, Willow headed for the bathroom. After a nice hot shower, some breakfast, and an eternity it took to get her unruly hair into her signature pigtails, the woman had completed her morning ritual. Looking at the clock, she saw that only an hour had passed. She still had another one before she had to leave for work. Her job was small and practical, which was basically sorting papers all day. She had a decent wage, and the small company was pretty old school, so she wasn't forced to learn how to use those "computers".
Willow hated her job. It was extremely dull, and every second she spent sitting at that desk, sorting through all those dry, boring documents, she couldn't help imagining what a nice, big fire they could make. Unfortunately, burning down the place would probably not only get her fired, but also arrested for arson. But again, Willow couldn't afford complaining. Money was money after all, and she needed it to live. Another thing she wasn't used to.
Turning on her TV (a piece of technology that Willow spent two whole days figuring out), the young woman let the buzz of morning news distract her for a while. Wilson would probably be gushing all over this stuff, giving her an hour long rant about how it works and how "sciency!" and "amazing development of the human kind!" it was. Willow quickly tried to block out that thought. After all, she didn't know where Wilson was. She didn't know where anyone was. For all she knew, they could still be stuck on that cursed island, and only she had made it out.
No. Willow refused to believe that. Whatever Wilson did worked, and she was free. Meaning that the others were probably free to. They all were out there somewhere. Who knew, maybe she'd even see them again someday.
Still, it hurt not knowing. They where the only friends she had ever had.
The woman scowled. Oh no. She was not going to get all depressed and mopey. She was gonna live her life, and better life, with less illegal fires this time, and the past was not going to drag her into a dark hole of misery. She was gonna move forward.
Speaking of moving, she should probably hurry before she's late for her (incredibly boring) job. Willow quickly got her stuff in her backpack (having a purse was just stupid. How do you even keep it from falling off your arm?), including her packed lunch for the day, and left her tiny apartment, hoping to catch a bus.
Looking at the giant stack of paper her boss had brought her, the only thing that went though Willow's mind was Kill me now, this is going to take forever! And maybe even This would look so much prettier if it was on fire.
As Willow started to sort through the files, she looked out the window next to her desk. Storm clouds were gathering above the city, blocking out the sun and making the girl shiver with dread. Rain was terrible. Not only did it make everything cold and wet, it also made everything stay that way for quite a while. The firestarter sighed audibly through her nose, turning away from the revolting sight.
"Gonna be a pretty long day, huh?"
Willow turned towards the voice. A young woman, maybe a few years older than her, stood at the doorway. Her curly blonde hair was tied back in a high ponytail, and a stack of folders was tucked tightly under her arm. The woman smiled, her gray eyes strangely understanding and calculating, which reminded her of a certain librarian.
The pyro knew this woman, or at least knew why she was here. This was an architect that her boss hired part time. This was a real estate company after all, and somebody had to know how to build something without it crashing down a few days later. What was her name? Annabelle?
Annabelle (no, that was definitely not it) smiled, gesturing at the weather outside. "Not a big fan of rain myself. Though its better than dying of thirst, don't you think?"
Willow shifted uncomfortably. "Yes. I guess you're right."
Willow breathed heavily, the spear she held dripping blood and matted with hound fur. The hound itself was not able to escape the firestarter's wrath, and was now laying a few feet away from the girl, dead.
Clutching the four inch long gash on her arm, Willow wanted to call for help, yet she knew that no one was around for miles. Everyone was back at camp, and probably thought she was safely scavenging for food. No, there was no one to help her now. Besides, there was nothing to help with anymore.
And there she was, lying a few feet away on the damp, dark grass. A crumpled body of a little girl, her lifeless eyes staring into Willow's dark ones, a pool of blood slowly spreading underneath.
Willow screamed.
Jerking up from the covers, the young woman tried to get her breathing and heart beat back to normal. It was just a nightmare. Nothing to worry about.
Of course, Wendy wasn't dead in the end. The girl had activated a touchstone somewhere, and had come back to camp a few days later, her dress torn up and her body covered in dirt, but otherwise unharmed. Willow had hugged the girl tightly, telling her how glad she was to have her back. Wendy looked a bit surprised at that, but otherwise her face was devoid of any emotion.
Of course, that was back there. Here there were no hounds, or touchstones, or dead little girls. Willow had absolutely nothing to worry about.
If only her subconscious knew that.
Another painfully boring day at work. Willow was just about sick of all these flammable papers. Her boss came in earlier today, telling her off for "not being committed enough to her job". Willow was just about to give a scathing retort about how no one would be committed to something as boring as this. She kept her mouth shut though, not wanting to loose her only source of income. The man then gave her an Empire State Building of papers to alphabetize, something that ruined Willow's already terrible mood.
Maybe it was the lack of sleep, or plain disinterest, but Willow couldn't help zoning out more than usual. She looked out the window. The sidewalk was still damp from yesterday's rain, and it looked like it was going to pour again soon. The street Willow worked on was part of a business district, so she could see the people in the offices across the street busy themselves with something or other. The generous amount of people and cars stated that this was a pretty popular place.
Suddenly, one of the doors of those offices opened, and a figure stepped out on the sidewalk. The man looked up at the sky, as if sharing Willow's sentiment about the rain, and left, walking down the street. Not an unusual account, but Willow knew this man. She could recognize that huge pointy head of hair anywhere.
The simple recognition locked Willow in a trance. This was impossible. The firestarter had been free for almost a year, and she never even got a hint on where the others might be. This was ridiculous. This simply couldn't be happening, not now, not when-.
The figure was walking away.
Willow tore from her seat and jumped over her desk, knocking down the stack of papers. Ignoring the surprised looks she got from her coworkers, the young woman dashed toward the front door, opening it and tearing out onto the street. She could get fired for this, but frankly, Willow didn't care.
Spotting the man she hadn't even hoped she'd meet again, the girl ran after him as fast as she could, which was pretty fast. He was a couple of blocks away though, and the traffic was not letting her keep up with him. Pushing through the crowd, Willow spotted her target getting farther and farther away.
Then she came to an intersection, and the light for pedestrians was red. Knowing that by the time it turned green it would be too late, and that jumping out into such fast moving traffic would be suicide, Willow knew she only had once chance. The firestarter cried out loudly, trying to reach the figure, using a name that she hadn't used since she was back there: "Wilson!"
And she saw, that just for a split second, the figure hesitated, stopping and turning his head, trying to find the source of the voice. Then Willow's vision was blocked by a large truck, and when it passed, the figure was gone.
That night Willow couldn't sleep. She tossed and turned, making her rickety old bed squeak loudly. The noise of the city did nothing to distract her thoughts from today's encounter. Was it Wilson that she saw? Or was it just a byproduct of her slightly unstable psyche? After all, that place was not merciful enough to leave a mind unscathed.
Yet the stranger reacted to that name. Perhaps she was just seeing it. That was the most likely scenario. Yet the firestarter couldn't get it out of her head that maybe, just maybe, she actually found one of her long lost friends. Well, more like spotted rather than found. She had no idea where he was now, or if she'll find him again. He was probably still in the city, but this was New York! It was impressive back in her time, but now, it was just plain massive!
Did this mean that the others made it out to? This was another question Willow wanted answered. Did this mean that everyone was safe, just scattered around the globe? One of them could end up in Africa for all she knew!
But no. Willow was from New York after all, and she was dropped not to far from it. So the others must be back where they came from. Wait, then what was he doing here? He said he was from Boston, and to be fair, that wasn't that far, but still. Willow felt a pang in her head from all this thinking. The girl was not known for her logical reasoning, that was his job. Then again, he was not that good at it either, for a scientist. Don't get her wrong, Willow knew he was smart. The simple fact that she was back in this world proved it. But he seemed a bit...reckless? No, that wasn't it. He just made very stupid decisions sometimes, regardless of his intelligence. Either he didn't think it through, or just didn't care about the outcome. Yet Willow couldn't help but find his "poke-it-with-a-stick" attitude amusing.
Willow felt another pang, this time in her chest. Oh God...she missed him. She missed all of them, and why shouldn't she? They were the only friends she had ever known, and the closest people she had.
She missed Wendy and her big words, too big for a twelve year old girl. She missed the way she could romanticize death, and the way every other line that she uttered could be poetry. She missed her passive yet analyzing stare.
She missed Wickerbottom. She missed having her explain practically anything like she was some kind of universal encyclopedia. She missed her grandmotherly voice and her numerous books. Where did she even keep them?
She missed Woodie, and his prized ax. She had once caught him talking to it, which was...weird, to say the least, but not as weird as everything else she'd seen.
She missed Webber, and his child-like innocence, and Wigfrid with her over-the-top acting. She missed Wes and his silence and Wolfgang and his cowardly acts and-
And above all, she missed hi- Wilson. She missed Wilson. She never believed friendships could last forever. After all, she could never see them again. But she knew that if that were the case, she would not miss Wilson any less in thirty years as she did now. He was...the closest person she could have. That wasn't so say that she knew him better than anybody else, oh no. She knew practically nothing about his past. All she knew was that he was a scientist, and that he built that door thing. That was it. And in turn, she never really told him about herself. It was a way to let go of the past, because no matter what, they were not coming back to it.
Yet there was a time when she could tell what he was thinking just by looking at him. It was like mind reading, except more natural. She didn't have to pretend to be normal after he found out of her pyromania, and he didn't have to pretend to be more formal and uptight around her. Soon, she found out that underneath that facade was someone ridiculous, sarcastic, witty. He could crack jokes and puns at skeletons and treated flesh-eating monsters like it was an ordinary thing you see in your back yard. He was immature, rude, and could care less about someone else's opinions.
And she missed him.
The next day wasn't any better. The sky still looked like it was about to dumb water on Willow, and work was just as boring as it has always been. The firestarter looked at her messy old desk, and wondered if things would be like this all the time. Sleep (not), work, come home, ear, watch TV, sleep, and the cycle repeats. It was just...so normal, that Willow couldn't take any more of this. As the girl sorted through the papers her boss had given her in the morning, she started to wonder if there was something wrong with her.
Wait, of course there was something wrong with her! She was a pyromaniac, for gods' sake!
But still, Willow felt that it wasn't the lack of fire that contributed to her restlessness. Willow just didn't understand what. Granted, she was better off right now than where she was before she met Maxwell. It just didn't sit easy with her. Before, every day was just survival, figuring out how not to die a thousand violent deaths. The island itself was a death trap, and the firestarter was glad that she was safe now. Yet compared to those days, regular life was too easy. And she missed her friends.
"'Ello? This place open or-?"
Startled, Willow glanced up from her desk. At the door stood a young blonde woman, her highlighted hair sticking out every which way. The girl was about Willow's age, with sharp, bright blue eyes that reminded her of Wendy, and tan skin. The girl stomped her combat boots on the door mat, and grinned at Willow. "Hi. Is Annabeth here?"
Willow noticed two things. First, was that she liked the girl's style. It was cool but unusual, something the firestarer appreciated a lot in her boring sad life. Second, was the woman's accent. It was British, but a bit faded, like she had spent a long time in the U.S. Willow had heard the same accent come from Wilson.
"And you are?" Willow asked.
"Oh, right. Sorry." The woman with highlights extended her hand in a handshake. "Sadie Kane. And you-"
"Willow." Willow shook her hand.
"Just Willow?"
"Yep."
"Fair enough."
There was an awkward silence. "You had a question?" Willow piped up.
"Oh, right." Sadie shook her head in embarrassment. "Is Annabeth here? I remember she told me someone hired her to do...something. I honestly couldn't care less about architecture." She added. "Anyway, if you could tell me where she went, that'd be lovely. It's urgent."
Annabeth...right, the architect. Except Willow had no clue where she was. "Sorry, I have no idea. Is she your friend?"
"That's a bummer. And yeah, she is."
The firestarter heard a crack of thunder outside, and a drizzle that followed soon after. Startled, the dark-haired girl jumped up from her desk. Peering out the glass, she noted that it was indeed raining, and groaned.
Sadie smiled sympathetically. "Don't really like rain?"
Willow shuddered. "Oh, don't even say it. It's cold and slimy and wet and things can't burn properly when it-" She shut her mouth abruptly, knowing she had said too much.
Sadie, however, ignored her comment completely. "Yeah, I get you. Sort of."
"Anyway, sorry about not finding your friend." Willow quickly changed the subject.
"Don't worry about." the other waved her off. "Though it is a bit disappointing. I haven't seen her in a while."
Willow nodded. "You know, I'm looking for someone I haven't seen in a while, too. I thought I saw him yesterday, but.."
"Well, good luck with finding him, then." Sadie winked at her. Willow wondered what that meant.
Walking home was awful. Willow pulled her sweater over her head, hoping to block out the rain. Yet the cold liquid still managed to seep through her clothes, making the girl shiver all over. Coming to an intersection with a red light, the firestarter stopped on the sidewalk, wondering how this day could get any worse.
Then another crack of thunder was heard, making the young woman jump in fight and bump into someone behind her. "Gah!" A voice cried out.
Willow whirled around, ready to apologize to the poor fellow who she almost knocked over into upcoming traffic. And froze.
"Sorry, are you okay? Also, you should probably avoid jumping on people-"
He blinked, finally registering who he was looking at. Willow recognized him immediately. His hair was a soaking wet mess, yet it never lost its spiky shape. His dark blue eyes locked onto hers, and he didn't seem to be able to do anything except stare at her with his mouth open. Willow had the sudden urge to close it for him. "W-willow? What are you...I...how..."
Willow didn't let him finish, pulling him into a tight hug. That, Willow realized after a while, was the happiest she's felt ever since leaving that place. The firestarter felt Wilson stiffen in her arms. His heartbeat felt faster than normal, and his breathing was far from relaxed. Whether he was in shock about her abrupt appearance or just happy to see her, Willow couldn't tell, but a few heartbeats later he awkwardly returned her embrace. In short, she was happy to see her best friend again.
The next few hours were a blur. Willow vaguely remembered entering a nearby cafe to get away from the rain, and after the initial shock worn out, the two soon began joking and filling each other in.
"Wait, so you actually said that? To his face?" Willow knew Wilson wasn't bold type, but apparently she wasn't the only one who changed.
"Yeah, so what?" Wilson pouted at her. "He was being illogical and didn't want to listen to reason."
"So you thought that telling that to his face was a good idea?"
"Well, I was mad," Wilson looked away, blushing, "and that day was not the greatest, to say the least."
Willow snorted, almost spilling her tea on herself. "So you left. Explains why you were going so fast at least, to put a greater distance between you and those idiots. And you didn't even hear me call you."
The young man blinked. "That was you?"
Willow rolled her eyes. "How many Wilsons do you think were on that street, genius?"
He shrugged. "I thought I was hearing things."
While not the logical answer, Willow understood. After all, she thought half the time that she was seeing things. "Well, I'm just glad I found you, at least. Who knows where the others are right now."
The scientist frowned. "Do you think they made it out?"
"Oh, please, why wouldn't they? We're here, after all."
"But what if I-"
"What I you what? Killed them all?" the girl snorted. "Then they're probably gonna haunt you. For the rest of eternity."
Wilson snapped, a little more forcefully than necessary: "It's not funny, Willow!" Well that was new, coming from him.
"What? There's no use worrying about it. That'll eventually drive you nuts."
Still, the scientist looked much more sober than he had a few minutes ago. All trace of laughter was gone, and all that was left was a serious boring old Wilson.
"Listen," he said after a while, "There's something I...kinda need your help with."
Willow frowned at him.
The man took a deep breath. "There's some unfinished business back in Boston."
Hello, and welcome to something I like to call "project how-much-can-I-confuse-my-readers-before-they-come-at-me-with-pitchforks-and-torches".
So this is basically a modern-time AU. I'll try to keep as close to cannon as possibles despite the fact that the two main characters had little to no cannon interaction. NONE. AND YES, I SHIP IT.So basically this is my take on what would happen if everyone manages to escape the island. Flashbacks will be provided in angsty memories and terrifying nightmares. This chapter is just me being shipping trash. The next one will be much more firendship and less...well, you know.
Note: The story is actually closely tied with HideousBlob's The Infinite Obituary of Wilson P Higgsbury. The characterization will be different, but the plot elements will be tied to what happened in that little series. Go read it! It's good!
The POVs will be alternating with Willow and Wilson, and maybe an occasional character that will show up later on. Oh, and watch out for the LITERALLY MILLION REFERENCES I AM GOING TO PUT IN THIS THING.
That's pretty much all I have to say for now, so tune in next time! Read, favorite, and review, and remember: REALITY IS AN ILLUSION, THE UNIVERSE IS A HOLOGRAM, BUY GOLD BYE!