Summary: With Ni - Senkhara taking charge of the school, the Anubis gang are forced to split up and go their separate ways. Sooner than they expect, an opportunity to oust Senkhara - and get Nina back - is given to them, but can they accept the cost?
Pairings: Amfie, Jara friendship, Mickra, Mick/Alfie/Amber friendship, Peddie
Setting: AU. One year Post S2.
Rating: M
Warnings: Cursing, gore, character death, attempted & implied sexual abuse
Notes: This chapter focuses on the Jara/Peddie/Fabian side of the story, but have no fear: there will be lots of Amfie and Mick next chapter (and Rufus, of course). Also, this is my first horror chapter ever so I'm sorry if it turned out horrible.

When Fabian found a note with nothing but the Eye of Horus tacked onto it, he knew something was up.

Contrary to most opinions, the brunet hated the pedestal he was put on. With his position as Adviser thrown about, everyone could not stop looking at him. He'd dismissed them as signs of jealousy at first under Eddie's wing, but soon they began to spend more and more time apart and whatever shoulder was there before was forcibly taken away from him. Paranoia filled in the blanks, and it was evident that for whatever reason most of the school hated Fabian Rutter.

One of the only benefits of being Senkhara's deputy was that mail could go to his inbox without being checked. That was how he knew that the message had to be important, considering it was snuck under his door as opposed to being hand-delivered by one of the younger guards.

Former Residence – 23.00.
Tell no one.

It had been a while since he entered Anubis House; he'd moved to one of the other Houses. He and many other generals shared that space, and though he found them decent company they couldn't compare to his former friends in Anubis House. An unwritten rule had been drawn in the sand not to talk of those times which were referred to as the Before; Senkhara had eyes everywhere, and one must be careful not to tread on the wrong string. Receiving and reading this letter was dangerous, let alone actually going to the meeting.

He was glad that he left the task of researching ways to kill Senkhara in Mara's capable hands nearly six months ago. Before Mick went. Frankly, he hadn't left a lot to go on, because most of the puzzle pieces were in place. His mind was too busy wandering through the treacherous territory of politics. He took most of his social clues from his old housemates, and Senkhara seemed to coddle him during feasts.

Fabian pocketed the letter in his satchel, leaving his room to have lunch. He passed Jerome in the stairway, and the blond offered him a furtive nod. According to the code they'd devised some months earlier when hope was a concrete rather than an abstract concept that meant go. He didn't have to ask where.

"Fancy some potatoes, Rutter?" Jerome probed, making small talk.

Months had passed since their last covert conversation, and even then Fabian could not betray the surprise in his eyes when he talked about such matters. "I would," he replied, "am I wrong to trust that they'll be decently cooked?"

The blond looked grave. "They will be very well made," he replied, carefully choosing his words, "however, their taste might not be to your liking."

Both teenagers sat with six others in their table, Fabian at its head. It was a relief that Trudy was still in the school as opposed to dead or exiled like many of the other adults. She gave them her best smiles as she traipsed about the kitchen, searching for extra cutlery. Eddie entered the room several moments later, trying to isolate Fabian and Jerome from the rest of the crowd, but facing a gargantuan feast made him forget about his motives made him focus on the real reason one swanned into the dining room.

"These potatoes are delicious, Trudy!" Eddie complimented, trying not to betray the curiosity of his friends' sluggish behaviour. "Dudes, you gotta have some! If I'm not mistaken, you're both doing some physical exercises today and you're gonna need the energy!"

"They might not be to our taste," Fabian sighed, taking a heap of them and placing them on his plate. "Besides, I don't want to get cramps in the middle of my exercise and forced to take the afternoon off."

"Same here," echoed Jerome, eating the food on his plate far more slowly than usual. To their relief, Eddie didn't arch his brows, only nodding that it was fair enough for them to think ahead.

He didn't get the note yet? Fabian thought, wondering how that could be. The brunet was usually the last to get the memo. Perhaps Eddie had become ridiculously clever at hiding his surprise. A year ago, he wouldn't have pegged the American to be a secretive type, but as he was about a lot of things lately, he was wrong.

"How's your wife?" Fabian questioned, trying to make small talk.

"Yacker's fine!" beamed Eddie, scoffing. "She says she's making headway in her current task at work, whatever that means."

Jerome nodded, and that lulls the table to silence.

The afternoon droned so slowly Fabian was sure time was going backwards. He nearly collapsed on the way to his quarters, but thank goodness for barristers. The situation hadn't gotten dire enough for Senkhara to set a curfew on the school, so there was a few people milling about outside as he attempted to sneak his way to his old home.

His heart palpitations bothered him purely because of their presence: he must've lived on that level on anxiety for months but it had only worried him now? To be frank, the brunet had always been a worrier: he worried about the sanity of his friends, going through lives that were not theirs to live; about Amber and Alfie and Mick and how he tried his best to withhold from his friends the information that yes, they're alive for the greater good; about Nina and how fucked up she must be, not being able to do anything in her own body for nearly a year. It was psychological torture, to put it rationally, but there was nothing rational about betraying his unwanted leader.

He arrived in his former house, cobwebs weaving themselves on the old porch and the hedges overgrown. Like the old days, he gave two sharp knocks on the wood before muttering the code word Scully. (Alfie had been the last one to choose it, and they kept it in memoriam of him. Besides, no one had a tasteful one to change it to anyway.)

Most of the former residents were seated in the lounge. Patricia and Eddie were on the loveseat, basking in each other's presence. Jerome was fiddling with something: a plan, he presumed. Mara's gazed was fixed firmly on the floor, and Fabian couldn't say he blamed her.

Five down, five to go.

Fabian's presence took over the others' like a shadow: he felt like he was Victor, this sad monster to be feared and run away from. He gave them his best smile before sitting across the Osirian and his wife, clearly uncomfortable with the quiet that had ensued since his entrance.

"Right," Jerome began, "we are here for a reason and only one reason: we found a way to get Nina back and finally get Senkhara off of our backs for good."

"If you did, wouldn't you have done it already?" Patricia spat. Eddie squeezed her wrist. "It would save us the trouble of leaving the comfort of our houses and getting some sleep."

"There are some conditions you wouldn't agree with if we went with the original plan," Mara argued, "and Fabian once said t – that you make decisions together after the whole Mark of Anubis fiasco, and for this one I suggest we all talk about it and decide a course of action before someone crosses the line."

Nodding, Fabian felt his heart skip a beat. "She's right. If we're going to save Nina we're going to have to do this systematically and as soon as possible."

Mara added, "We only have an acceptable window of one week to make it work before we have to wait again."

Eddie frowned, and Patricia shook her head. "One week?"

"Most of the preparation comes beforehand, like right now," Jerome said. "I'm going to let Mara talk about the plan, since she's the one that managed to figure it all out."

In the midst of his sentence, Mara sneaked a look at Fabian's shoes, before she cleared her throat and began talking. "Nina's heart is the key," she said, "we have to stab her in the heart at a depth of between three to five inches. However, I'm not entirely sure because I haven't tested it out, but how can I when she – "

" – you do know my Osirian senses are going on overdrive because of what you're saying, right?" Eddie interrupted. Fabian and Jerome hushed him, and Mara paid no heed.

"As I was saying, we have to stab Nina in the heart at a certain depth. Any of the seven acolytes can do it, which means that Jerome, Patricia or Fabian can do it. I think that's a good idea anyway; they're the best ones with the knife. I'm not sure about the Osirian, but I don't think he should do it since it could become a suicide mission." Eddie looked puzzled, but Mara pressed on. "However, Senkhara's increased strength because of her time back here on Earth means she can also possess one of the other seven. Since most of you will be there and you'll be very… shocked about what just happened, that hinders her from taking over your bodies. Alfie and Amber are g – gone, so we don't have to worry about them either.

"The only one that we do have to worry about is Joy."

Patricia frowned, "What do you mean? Joy's fine!"

"I hate to admit it now, Patricia, but Joy's as good as dead whether we like it or not!" A tear streamed down her cheek. "We can't keep her around in our old room anymore, not for this plan to work. It's not healthy for her and it's not healthy for us. We have to move on."

"No, we don't!" the brunette protested.

Mara stood up. "Yes, we do! If we're going to get Nina back, if we're going to get our lives back, and if we're going to try and fix the damage that bitch has done to us, we're going to have to kill Joy!"

Patricia's anger mounted into pain. Tears cascaded down her face. "H – How could you say that? How dare you insinuate killing m – my best friend?" she spat, rushing over to Mara's side of the room. "Y - You whore! First, you get Mick killed because you felt the dying urge to fuck him, and then you try and kill one of our own?" Her palm violently brushes against her friend's cheek, leaving a large red handprint. "Joy's your friend! She's our friend! Why the fucking hell would you want to dispose of her like you do your fancy surgical needles?"

"I don't, Patricia!" Mara protested, balling her fingers into a fist. Her eyes furrowed, yelling at Jerome when he wrapped both his arms around her waist to restrain her. "What makes you think I want to do this? Joy is the only one of us who has high enough electrical brain ability – which is obviously created by biological processes such as breathing – to let Ni - Senkhara in, but not too high to literally frizzle her soul if she enters her brain. We cannot let her go into any of our bodies or she'll just enforce her regime on us all over again." By this time, Jerome had made sure Mara sat firmly on a seat, his hands gripping her protectively. "I'd get an AED but I haven't seen any in months and I've forgotten how to use one anyway – "

"Is there a way of blocking the impulses? Or cloaking them so that they can't be detected?" Jerome asked, and Mara shrugged her shoulders.

"We could bury her at least six feet underground," Fabian offered, and that sent Patricia back into a raging storm.

"Joy's your best friend too!" she blustered, her eyes boring into the brunet's. Her auburn hair stood up on end as Eddie attempted to soothingly rub her wrist. "How could all of you possibly be okay with murdering her? Do you know how much she went through? The only reason she's like this is because Nina attacked her and she did it to save Fabian's life because she fucking loves you!" She gave the brunet a glare. "She can barely look at us without flinching if she woke up right this moment and saw all of us dressed like this! You know how much she hates robes!"

"That's enough, Patricia," Eddie said sternly, his voice leaking with pity. He wrapped an arm around her, letting her sob into his shoulder. Carrying her back to their seat, he rocked his wife back and forth in his arms. Her weeping subsided into sniffles, and everyone waited soundlessly for her to become calm. Eventually she turned her gaze back to her friends, though she did not crack a smile.

"Fine," she announced. "We have to kill Joy. But I'm not playing any part of it. No planning, no nothing. You're doing that on your own." She twiddled her thumbs together. "But I will be able to help get Senkhara out of Nina. Doesn't she have a feast in a week?"

Jerome nodded. "It's her one year anniversary of making our lives hell. Who cares about the kids going down with cholera? Let's spend the money on chickens instead!" He rolled his eyes, receiving a glare from Mara. "Fine, I am stretching it with that, but we still need a way to get to Senkhara. I can't get to her easily, so Fabian or Eddie will have to be the ones to take her out."

Patricia pouted, "The problem is trying to kill her with her guards' backs turned, and finding a time when she's completely vulnerable. She has to be completely caught off guard when Fabian and Eddie murder her, or distracted."

Eddie's eyes twinkled. "Mutiny."

Frowning, Fabian asked, "What?"

"Mutiny," Eddie began, "is when people rebel against their superiors. Really, Stutter Rutter, this should be a concept you should be very familiar with bearing in mind – "

The brunet glared at him. "I know what mutiny is! You just so happened to yell it out of context."

"Can we not have another argument?" Jerome growled, rolling his eyes, "I thought the whole point of today's meeting was to actually get somewhere, not argue like five-year-olds."

"You're right," the other blond agreed, his gaze lingering on Fabian and the edge of his lip curling. "I was thinking that because we can't rebel against Senkhara without hm, I don't know, killing ourselves, we get everyone else to."

Mara arched a brow, her lips pouted in thought. "I can't believe I'm saying this, but I have no idea what you mean."

Eddie smirked, "We have Jerry, who is in an influential position to possibly sway the minds of the so-called pawns. Isn't your sister Poppy like, ridiculously popular?" He nodded. "You're going to have to try and persuade her that what she's going through is wrong. She needs to do something about it but she's going to need a lot of help." Jerome opened his mouth, but Eddie dismissed it. "Yes, I'm using your sister because if you do it you'll die and we kinda need you. Also, if I'm not mistaken, she's just as sneaky as you, which makes her a perfect candidate."

"Don't we need signs of civil unrest for a mutiny to occur?" Fabian demurred, "remember what Senkhara said to us the other day – "

"No offence, dude, but Poppy's way out of your league. For once, that's actually working to our gain. One: there is no way you can see what she's doing, and you have no reason to speak to her. She's with the Farmers, right? Two, you're stuck with soldiers who have little to no contact with them, and if you know it would just make you incredibly resourceful. If you don't, she can't entirely blame either of us."

"I can't believe I'm going to say this," Patricia agreed, "but Krueger's got a point."

"I'm not a complete doofus, Yacker," Eddie grinned, and Patricia offered him a smile.

"It sounds simpler said than done, though," Mara said. "trying to create chaos at a feast that's going to be heavily guarded will lead to multiple casualties, and Joy's death is going to cause us so much hell, let alone many. I'm not particularly comfortable with this, but it sounds like our best shot." She tapped her fingers on her thigh. "I think it's best if we split the tasks. Jerome and me can plan Joy's… resting place, and Fabian, Eddie and Patricia can plan the mutiny." Her face brightened, a ghost of a smile twinkling her chocolate eyes. "We should have a codename for this, just in case."

"Krueger's Shotgun?" Eddie suggested.

Mara grinned, "I like that."

Night came too quickly that day.

Jerome and Mara met at the front of Anubis House, armed with shovels, knives and a long piece of rope. The blond ensured that the things needed to clean up the mess later on are found easily at the front of the house. For now, all he needed was his trusty knife. He balanced it atop his ear.

"Are you okay?" he asked of Mara. Her eyes were vacant, her lips unmoving. "If you want to back out now, I'm fine doing it on my own. It's not too late."

"No," she insisted, clearing her throat. Turning the doorknob, she entered the house. Jerome swiftly followed. She closed the door before turning to her companion, attempting a smile. "It's my plan too. What kind of mastermind am I if I don't partake in the execution of my own plot? Besides, it doesn't feel right if you do it alone. Murder isn't something to take lightly."

"You're rather impartial to taking the blame with me, Mara Jaffray. I never knew you were one for trouble," he remarked, smirking.

"Not really," she agreed, "but I'm sure being a temporary evil genius does count for something in your university application." She didn't let him respond and ran up the staircase, daring Jerome to chase after her. The raven-haired girl forgot that he was much quicker than her despite her athletic upbringing. When he catches her, he wrapped his arms around her waist and spun her round. She laughed, trying her best not to squeal so not to raise suspicion in the nearby neighbourhoods. "Stop it, Jerome!" she exclaimed. Promptly, he landed her in front of her old room.

It was Jerome who opened the door, and to his relief Joy hasn't moved an inch since their last visit. She looks so peaceful, he thought. Without pause, he withdrew his knife from his ear, gripping its hilt with an iron fist. Mara gave him a look of concern, which he ignored. Exhaling heavily, Mara cleared her throat and gave her final words.

"Joy, you have no idea how much pain I'm in right now, reciting these words to you. I'd say you're the lucky one out of the both of us, but considering you're the one that's going to die, I'd rethink that statement. You're one of my closest friends and I have to thank you for everything. For being a good friend and a shoulder, for not calling me a total whore when… when I had feelings for both Jerome and Mick, and I just thank you for your presence." She took her hand in hers. "I love you so much, and I don't want to do this. Believe me, I don't. But I want my life back."

She dropped Joy's hand, which fell to her side. It was Jerome's turn.

"Joy, I… I don't know what to say. When we were younger, we used to be best friends: you, me, Trixie and Alfie. I know this isn't the first time you're hearing this, but Alfie's dead and Trixie's not here. Looks like it's just the two of us for now." He brushed the hair out of her forehead. "Trixie told me to tell you she loves you ever so much and she hopes that you're in some alternate universe where you do get what you want. Alfie would say the same thing, if he were alive enough to say anything. I'll miss you, Joy. I'll miss you a lot."

Retreating from the bed, Jerome gave her one last look before his sight removed from her face to her neck. Breathing in deeply, he inched his knife closer towards it. Soon, they were making contact. Hesitation was not in his vocabulary as he viciously shoved the knife into her neck.

There was no blood.

Both Jerome and Mara's faces were contorted in alarm. The blond pulled the knife back towards him, removing it completely from her throat. To his dread, the blade was spotless. His eyes widened in panic. He stabbed her over and over and over: on heart and on her chest and on her stomach and on her arm –

- no reaction.

"Stop!" Mara cried, restraining Jerome from Joy's body. She wrapped her arms around his twitching form, and by some miracle he managed to calm down. To say he had ravaged her body was an understatement: there were so many open cuts, and the stench of raw flesh quickly made itself at home. Mara could feel sick rising in her throat, her knees quaking.

Joy sewn-shut eyes suddenly flashed open, revealing a set of emerald green eyes. She sat up on the bed. She shrieked, the lights of the room flashing from total brightness to total darkness. The windows shattered and shards of glass fell to the floor, nipping at Mara's feet. Joy's eyes continued to widen, its eyes mechanically scanning the room and its hate focused on the two people in it.

"You!" she exclaimed, pointing to Jerome, "the Betrayer of the Paragon! How dare you show yourself! How dare you try to murder one of your own friends! You're going to need her but you're going to so selfishly throw her away! How dare you be here!" She then pointed to Mara, "You! A whore of this, mine, and any other time! What makes you think you're worthy to be here?"

"Joy?" Jerome asked, Mara far too mortified to act, "calm down – "

"Who is Joy? I'm not Joy!" the brunette exclaimed. "I'm Sarah! Didn't the Chosen One tell you who I am? She – she put the cup together j – just for me. For you to keep the world safe." She calmed down, her expression on her face turning into one of glee. "How is she, Clarke? I hope she's okay. She's never let me down before, my Chosen One."

Jerome opened his mouth to respond, but she placed a finger on his lips. How does she know my name? he thought broodily. "Clarke… y – you look s – so… so young… where's Lewis? I – I haven't seen him in so long… he was a lovely, lovely man… is his wife still alive?" Pupils dilated with shock as she came to realise something; Mara couldn't think of what. Joy – Sarah's – palm cupped one side of the blond's face, thumbing his eye bags. "You must go to the Gatehouse. The – the scales of life… you have to go there now. Be – before it's too late… i – it's going to take over…"

Joy's form was losing consciousness as her green eyes faded back to their original hazelnut. She slumped onto the bed, her head resting on the crook of the headboard. Blood trickled out of the countless scars Jerome had inflicted on her. She began to cough up blood. It splashed on the floor in a stuttered stream, forming miniature splatters and puddles of crimson red. She shuddered, shivered.

One final cry, and she was gone.

Mara came forward and closed Joy's eyes for her. Adrenaline rushed through her veins, as she could not feel sadness at her friend's death. She swallowed and gave Jerome a petrified look. "I – I can't…" she mumbled, muffled by her tongue dripping with fear. "Can't… I can't bury her… she – she… I c – can't…"

The blond rubbed her shoulder, kissing her affectionately on the forehead. "Fine. We won't bury her. Not until all of this is over. How does that sound?" She nodded in approval. "But first, I think we're going to clean this room. I'll try and see if there's any rags in the kitchen, and you stay here and watch the body."

Again, Mara bobbed her head as he left the room. She squeezed her friend's hand, knowing that she was never going to feel it squeeze back or see the distinct brown of her eyes, let alone hear her voice again. All she had known the year before her education went down the drain was Joy's obsession with Fabian. To have it abruptly taken away from her pretty much sucked the familiarity out of her life.

Tears stung the back of her eyes, and the nurse tried to swallow down the bile that was rising in her throat. Blood blemished her tan palms as she gave them a look. She drew two straight lines on each cheek with her middle and index finger. Another straight line was carved from the space between her eyebrows and down the bridge of her nose.

Jerome returned with rags, and he began cleaning up the floor. Mara deftly dodged her way through the shards of glass to stare at the moonless sky outside. She smiled, trying to coax herself back into happiness.

"I need a little help here, Mara," Jerome called. She nodded, accepting his offer. He tosses a rag in her direction, and she begins from the side with all the glass. All the pain. All the memories.

She remembered looking at this piece of glass, consulting it for advice. It was the one that told her that straightening her hair was a good idea, and that long distance with the guy she had a crush on since ever was worth a shot. It told her that Jerome was someone worth fighting for, and that if she thought that her feelings for him were real, then they were.

Sweeping some glass under the rag, Mara could feel something stabbing her palm at all angles, but she didn't care. Throwing the rag out the window, she sighed, sitting on the space where she once hid from one of Amber's rage fits. Oh, the things she'd do to hear her ex-best friend moan about shoes again.

The tears didn't wait for her seal of approval to fall down her face anymore.

The blond sat next to her, inspecting her hands. "They're bloody," he said dumbly. He wrapped one of the spare rags around one palm, another on the other. She leaned on his chest, her cries twisted into shouts of emotional pain. Wrapping a defensive arm around her, Jerome swung her back and forth, humming a tune of an age-old song his mother used to be obsessed with.

Mara tilted her head upwards to face him. "Jerome?"

"What is it?"

"How do you do it? Mask the pain?"

He gave her a laugh, and what stung about it was that it was so hollow, so devoid of the charms she'd once loved. (And she still did.) "Ah, that's where you're wrong, Jaffray. I don't hide pain. I don't mask it. I don't even compartmentalise it like most people think I do. It's just that sometimes, you've had enough disappointments in your life for twenty people and you just… stop."

"Stop what?"

"Feeling."

He wiped her bloody face with yet another rag, and he smiled. "Don't you dare think that not being able to feel anything makes you better than anyone else, because it does precisely the opposite. I love Joy like a sister yet… I feel nothing at her death."

They spent most of the night silently holding each other's weight on their shoulders until flecks of sun began to show.

A/N: Please review?