The Lives We Live
"You're not her."
"Not your Kerrigan, but-"
"No. I don't care. You're practically a duplicate of Nova."
"Some people call it a skin. It's an interesting principle of alternate realities colliding with the Nexus, when two individuals of said realities become manifest on the same plane, that…"
Jim Raynor let the woman who called herself Sarah Kerrigan prattle on. He remained seated and looked out over Dragon Shire. Lords and ladies dined. Knights jousted. In the distance, he could see the flame of the Dragon Knight, as it once again made a bid for freedom.
"So, in conclusion…"
And still she talked. And he remembered. The real Sarah Kerrigan wouldn't have done this. The Sarah Kerrigan that he'd met all those years ago (time was so warped here, he couldn't put an accurate figure on the exact number) was direct, and kept her emotions to her chest, bar the few occasions she opened herself up. The real Sarah Kerrigan had become the Queen of Blades, and turned on everything and anything her claws would touch. The real Sarah Kerrigan had been changed twice more.
"You listening Jimmy?"
Jimmy. She still calls me Jimmy.
That Sarah Kerrigan was still here. But she was still different. How many times had she been changed? How far had she gone from the person she once had been? He couldn't say. Sarah Kerrigan, the Primal Queen of Blades, was a more appealing prospect than Sarah Kerrigan, the not-primal Queen of Blades, ready to kill your nearest and dearest because of the zerg mutagen running in her system. That Sarah…that Sarah was doing God-knew what.
"She's in the Tomb of the Spider Queen actually. Playdate with Zagara."
Raynor looked at not-Sarah.
Did she read-
"Yes," she said. "I've gotta say, it's much cleaner than I expected from Mar Sara."
"Antiga Prime," he murmured. He returned his gaze to the Dragon Knight. He looked tired. Like he wanted it all to end.
"No, Mar Sara," not-Sarah said. "When we…" She paused. "Oh. Of course. Different timeline, reality, and all that."
Raynor grunted. Mar Sara. Antiga Prime. Two words that he'd never see again. Two words that he had no great desire to see again admittedly, but still, the Nexus being the Nexus, he wouldn't put missing the good ol' days behind him.
He got to his feet – he needed a drink. Not some of this wine that was being served by knights who were too tired to partake in brawls, an actual drink. Something that he, Matt, and Tychus could enjoy on the Hyperion before it was needed to lay waste to more minions.
"Still Scotty Bolger's?"
He glanced at not-Sarah. She just looked up at him. Looked at him with those green eyes, her red hair momentarily covering them, contrasting with her suit that fit her like a-
"Yeah," he said, turning away from her. "Scotty Bolger's." He let out a chuckle. "Guess there are universal constants."
There was no laugh on her part. And Raynor guessed why – she could read his mind. She knew that he had no intention of 'buying her a drink,' or whatever term was used in this reality. Because he'd treated the real Sarah Kerrigan to drinks. The real Sarah Kerrigan had choked on them, before letting out one of the few laughs she ever gave him. The real Sarah Kerrigan was now in a position of never having to drink again.
Or maybe she didn't know that. Maybe she was holding back. But-
"What happened?" Raynor blurted out.
She looked up at him. "Pardon?"
"What happened?" he repeated. "The other me." He frowned. "There was another Jim Raynor right? Mar Sara? Where's he now?" His gaze narrowed. "There…there isn't a King of Blades is there? Because that would be fekked up and-"
"You died."
"…oh."
Dying. Well, that wasn't so bad. In a universe that included the zerg infestation virus, energy beings, and gods who wanted to bring about the apocalypse, saying that "you died," wasn't so bad.
"It was New Gettysburg," not-Sarah murmured. "Mengsk had signed the death warrant of two billion people. And…" She swallowed – not-Sarah appeared distressed. If what she was about to tell him was what he suspected, then…well, that would be…something. He couldn't think of a word for it.
"The protoss came," she said, her gaze not meeting his. "Mengsk feared that they'd engage the zerg, letting the Confederates escape. He sent forces to-"
"New Gettysburg."
Not-Sarah looked at him. He didn't say anything. It was another constant. There was always a Tarsonis. There was always a New Gettysburg. There was always Goddamned Arcturus fekking Mengsk.
"So you went down and-"
"No," she said. "He sent you down to the surface."
Raynor blinked – now that…that, was interesting.
"I told you you didn't have to," not-Sarah continued. "That you had nothing to prove. That I knew the protoss were no threat to humanity, and that I knew because…well, that I was a Ghost."
Raynor winced – even now, he could hear the voice of the real Sarah Kerrigan. The first, Sarah Kerrigan. The Sarah Kerrigan who had spoken to him, in what would be her last few hours as the person she had been born as.
"You succeeded, you know," not-Sarah said. "Zeratul, Tassadar…yeah, you may be friends with them here, but in my universe, I bet they hate your guts." She let out a bitter laugh. "And then the zerg came. Mengsk left you to die. I tried to save you but…but…" She looked at him. "The zerg came," she repeated. "And they…they tore you apart."
Raynor remained silent. The zerg. The zerg would have no need for James Eugene Raynor. The zerg would think nothing of him. They wouldn't infest him. They wouldn't turn him into a killing machine. They would do what the zerg always did in the end – kill.
"I left Mengsk then," not-Sarah said. "Formed my own rebel group. But…" She sighed. "But it would never bring you back. Nothing would. Aiur would burn. The Dominion remained. And…in the end, none of it mattered." She laughed bitterly. "Course, none of that matters anyway, now that I'm here."
And once again, there was silence. And Raynor was left to wonder – what would have happened? The Overmind may have won. Perhaps Amon would have been resurrected through other means. Perhaps…He couldn't say. He couldn't speculate on what would have happened if New Gettysburg had played out differently. What the real Sarah would have done if she had survived. What he would have done. What anyone would have done.
But you do know, a voice told him. A voice that he knew was his own. You have the proof right in front of you.
No. He couldn't think like that. This…this Sarah…she wasn't his. There'd be a million and one variants in her life, and the Jim Raynor she had known, that would make him a different individual to the man she knew. Would make her a different individual to the woman that he had known as well. And-
"Do you love Jim Raynor?" he asked suddenly.
She looked at him.
"Not your Jim," he said. "Not me. Jim Raynor."
"I don't understand."
"Maybe…" He sighed. She'd explained this so much better than he could. "Maybe…maybe there's a constant. Some multiversal constant. Maybe there's always a New Gettysburg. Or a Dark Portal. Or an Eternal Conflict. Maybe…maybe some things are always meant to happen, in some form or another. Maybe one of us is always meant to be taken by the zerg."
"Maybe," she said.
"But, we're here," he said. "And…look, the universe doesn't owe me any favours. I don't think it's even capable of giving them. But…but if the universe is giving us a chance…" He trailed off. He really needed that drink.
"Maybe you're a Sarah Kerrigan. Maybe I'm a Jim Raynor. But…I don't know if that's enough."
She sighed. "I don't either." She looked up at him. "But…I'm willing to find out. If…if the multiverse allows it."
Screw the multiverse.
He didn't say it. But she smiled. And she guessed that she'd read his mind.
I did. And you're still a pig, you know.
And, right now, that drink looked like it could use some company.