Week 2, Day 4: Stand Your Ground Before Your Partner
Walking away from that place was one of the harder decisions Cameron and Thirteen had to make. They didn't speak afterwards and neither did they speak for a good while in the morning, simply lying next to each other and pondering over the past. The Reaper's Game was a vast, thick jungle where every discovery altered one's perception of reality. This sinister game was no longer just a challenge for the dead; it changed all lives, even the solid, earthbound innocence of a child. The previous day's mission made the two women wonder just how many times they'd fallen victim to an Angel's bidding, how many times they had been misled and toyed with. It made them sick, yet there was nothing they could do.
Having been freed of the Noise (and maybe slightly manipulated by a certain blonde's imprinting skills), Michael had confessed his sin to the police and order had returned to the town – order, not peace. "What do you think will happen to Natalie?" Allison inquired, leaning against the bark of a pine tree. Morning sunlight glittered in her hair and painted splotches in the snow.
"What matters is that she'll be safe. That's not what I'm worried about," replied the brunette sitting next to her.
"What is it then?"
"The system," Thirteen stated simply. "What if they sent the Noise after him? What if they ran out of ideas so they used this as an excuse for a new mission? What if they needed a new Player and captured Mary's Soul this way? We might as well run into her."
"Didn't they explain all that to you when you worked with them?" Cameron asked, cursing her lack of tact a second too late.
Thirteen shot her a look. "Yes, of course they spilled their guts to me the second I grew wings to save you, out of sheer fascination with my overwhelming potential and drive to kill," she snapped, her voice dripping with sarcasm.
"You know that's not what I meant," Allison soothed her in an apologetic tone. "I was just thinking out loud," she muttered.
"Don't bother, Allison." Thirteen pulled herself up, supporting herself with her knee, and turned away without taking a single look at her partner. As Cameron was contemplating her choice of words, their phones went off.
"Mission 4: Face your fears. Don't worry, they'll find you. – The Reapers"
"You mean there's something scarier here than grizzly bears and tiger skeletons and my own dead body? I don't think there's any fear left in me to feed on anymore," the ER head mumbled and closed her eyes. She knew that if the Reapers said there was no point in running, she might as well rest and clear her conscience instead. There was power in preparation.
Maybe you've been through it all, but I can imagine some nasty stuff going down – none of which I can possibly be ready for, Thirteen thought. The blind Cameron also appeared blinded by ignorance. There was so much to be scared of; enemies, pain, loss, emotion, death. No way could she seriously mean that, could she?
As if she were peeking into her thoughts, Cameron spoke up again. "We've already lost what we value most – twice. Speaking of which, what was your second entry fee?"
Of course, Remy knew all along. There was no mystery to it since she gave it up willingly. "Technically, there was only one option to go with. I gave up my immortality, and with it my life, didn't I?" she stated, bitterness soaking her words.
"Do you regret it?"
The blonde remained unreadable, but Remy could see the hidden message very clearly. Do you regret saving me? She felt guilty for even making Cameron think that the option was there. The girl hadn't done anything wrong. She was simply in the wrong place at the wrong time with the wrong person; someone who couldn't protect her and not hurt her at the same time. "Of course not," Thirteen shot back as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. Nevertheless, deep down she knew the cruel truth – they were both equally frightened.
Remy? What have you done, Remy?
Someone was calling her. The brunette opened her eyes and sat up. Her entire body was sore and her head was pounding, much like it would after a good long night of vodka, gin, tonic and sex. "Who is it?" she called out, squinting and shielding her face from the radiant light. It was everywhere, consuming all but the two figures that lay before her.
"How could you do this, Remy!" yelled the first, bulkier one, cradling the other in its arms. It looked up at Thirteen, who was petrified to recognize the face of her father.
"D-dad?" she stuttered, propping herself up on her knees.
"Don't you ever call me that again! You killed Anne! You killed my beloved!"
Remy's porcelain face was paler than the dead body in the arms of John Hadley. Life had abandoned this festering shell decades ago but her mother's distinctive features were still recognizable. The well-defined jawline her daughter inherited and the bone thin fingers, even her mother's favorite olive sweater, all of these spelled out Anne's name. The only thing Thirteen didn't recognize was the huge, bloody gash in the corpse's abdomen, and the dry blood on Thirteen's hands, which she could never wash off. She was too stunned to say anything besides "I didn't—"
"I know you hated your mother. You despised her for what she did when she had no choice, and you left her to rot!"
"That's not true! I loved mom!" Remy defended herself.
"You didn't say goodbye to your mother the last time I had to drive her to the hospital! You didn't go with us, unlike your brother! You are the reason her heart broke and you are the reason she's dead!" The man's desperate howling was digging a hole in Thirteen's heart, but he only growled at her whenever she tried to come closer. "You know, I never wanted a second child. But Anne always dreamed of having a daughter and I wanted to make her wish come true. I was right about you from the very beginning, though – you should have never been born. Now you're here, killing and spreading your filth to that other woman, just like you have infected so many before and just like you left every one of them."
"Dad, you have no idea how sorry I am—" Thirteen sobbed. She had finally done it – she had driven her only family away. That was it; there she kneeled with no one and nothing left to lose in the entire world. A good enough reason to cry. "I never meant for any of that to happen," she whispered brokenly, her face contorted as she failed to struggle with the flow of tears.
"You can shove your apologies, you spoiled brat. You called your own mother a bitch when she could barely remember her own name! You are the reason she died knowing her miracle despised her guts! It's your fault!"
Thirteen curled up in a ball and covered her ears with those blood-stained hands of hers. She couldn't bear listening to this any longer, moreover because she knew that all that had been said was bare, ruthless truth, down to every dot at the end of every sentence. "Please, don't blame me," she repeated over and over under her breath, shaking her head. It hurt to hear, to see, to breathe. This couldn't be real.
Wait a second.
This, in fact, could not be real.
The brunette wiped away the tears and looked up at the ghost of her father with a frown. "How do you know I called her that word? You were at Jake's school's play when it happened. You've never met Allison, either." She watched as the figure hunched over her mother's corpse went still and her suspicions grew more real. "How did I get here, anyway?"
The sobs quieted down and then, laughter. Mad laughter filled the air and the bright darkness all around. "You pass," a ringing voice said as the illusion of her father dissipated and in its place sat a blonde teenage boy, grinning.
"You—!" She was going to strangle him right then and there.
"Au revoir," the boy waved with a jeer and vanished before Thirteen had the chance to deliver a powerful kick in a sensitive area. Instead she went weak in the knees and stumbled. Her head felt even dizzier than when she had awoken and she fell to the ground, giving in to the other voice calling her name.
Remy, wake up!
It was Cameron's voice that snapped her out of limbo, wasn't it? If so, then why wasn't her blonde hair the first thing for Thirteen to see when she came to? Why did she have to see the dim grey sky just to be reminded of her father's miserable wails, even though she knew John was really at home watching today's football match and not reflecting on the day their life turned upside down? She shook the thought off and stood up, noticing her companion's jacket had been neatly folded and placed under her head when she was unconscious. Classic Cameron. She looked around to see said blonde standing still like a marble statue and watching something Thirteen couldn't make out very intently. She grabbed the cloth and walked over to Cameron while trying to spot the cause of her distress.
Allison must have been freezing but she wouldn't even try to warm herself up as little nests of snowflakes started forming in her hair. "Allison?" Remy approached her with caution and noticed that to her surprise, color had returned to Allison's eyes, dying them moss green and perhaps even more vivid than before. She could tell however that today, it wasn't a change for the better. The ER head was visibly frightened by some unknown phantom, her breath, quick and uneven, drawing spirals in the chilly air. "Allison, whatever you see, it's not there, trust me," she assured her, hesitating to put her hand on the blonde's shoulder.
Cameron slowly raised her hand and pointed in front of her. "Him."
At last, Remy could see the culprit walking up to them. It was no six-legged furry beast, nor a medieval executioner or some other archetypal character that scares children in fairytales; it wasn't even House with an axe-cane, and that quite frankly was one of the more terrifying pictures Thirteen could imagine. It was just a man and the only thing he and House might have had in common was his age and patches of grey, scruffy hair. He had a round beer gut and like herself knew how to make good use of suspenders, but that was all Remy could see. "It's just some guy—"
"Hey, Allie! It's been so long!" the man interrupted her with a gregarious laugh.
The brunette frowned in response. "—who is obviously closely affiliated with you in some way."
All of a sudden, Allison's eyes shone with a faint white glow and so did a nearby pine tree. Thirteen watched with her mouth open as the tree was ripped out of the ground in one swift motion, needles scattered in all directions, and flung directly towards the stranger by an invisible hand. Fortunately, the brunette was quick to act, promptly dropping the jacket, running after the tree and slicing the pine to pieces before it could harm anyone. "What the hell, Allison!"
"I'm going to kill him, so would you please be so kind as to get out of my way?" the blonde asked politely but her eyes and clenched fists spoke of calm before the storm.
Remy looked from her partner to the man, who looked genuinely confused as much as herself, and then back at Cameron. "Like hell you are. What the hell is wrong with you?"
"I don't want to hurt you." Allison stared at her emotionlessly much like a doll, fear and anger both hidden behind a barrier, but she could see through it like a bride's veil. This doll felt both, and the only reason she gave off this icy cold, calm vibe, was because the two were fighting to the death and it was only a matter of time before one would prevail over the other.
"Then don't," Thirteen responded, raising her voice in a question towards the end of the sentence. She had never seen this side of Cameron before; so methodic, so unwavering, so certain in what she was about to do. Wait, was this another dream? Was this another of the terrors haunting the back of Remy's mind, changing Allison into a heartless rock? But Joshua had explicitly stated that she had passed. Then again, he wasn't renowned for his honesty.
"Stand aside," the blonde repeated.
"No," Thirteen said and although her spirit sword was pointing to the ground, it was out and ready to face any dangers in a heartbeat.
"Allie, I just wanted to say hi. Why don't you ever call? Why don't you ever write?" said the man, apparently waiting for the blonde to run into his arms, and Remy was sure he had no business here but what she was clueless about was why. The only thing she knew was that she was not going to let him die for no apparent reason.
"You're not supposed to be here!" Cameron screamed.
Thirteen saw the blue pin glistening in Cameron's hand and her eyes widened when she realized her partner was concentrating on the spell. "No!" she exclaimed and shoved the man aside just in time before a nine feet tall icicle sprung from the snow below.
"You give me no choice." Her voice was so solemnly monotone one would think she was already giving a speech on the strange man's burial.
Wires lashed out from behind Cameron and aimed straight for Thirteen. "You're kidding," the brunette muttered and cut them to pieces, but every time she hit one, the other branch simply moved and expanded by itself, scratching and ripping through her at will. This is one fucking messed up nightmare, though I'm still not sure whose nightmare it is, Remy thought as she fell to her knees, choked and tied by sharp thorns until she could no longer move. "I hate to be a nuisance but this is pretty damn uncomfortable. Do you think you could, um, you know, pull yourself together?"
"I'm sorry," the doll apologized sincerely.
"Sweetie, don't you remember your ninth birthday? It's me! I gave you that pink pony doll you always wanted and you named it Nancy," soothed the nameless man.
"I've spent twenty one years trying to forget my ninth birthday!" Cameron cried, tears welling up in her eyes along with what Thirteen could finally recognize as being a dark tint of pure, one hundred percent concentrated rage, absorbing her whole. The blonde didn't move a muscle as more wires swam through the air and wrapped themselves around the object of her diabolic anger.
"Cameron, don't!" Thirteen could only watch as her partner walked past her straight to the man, who was now writhing in her grip, daisies of ice sprouting wherever she set foot as a premise of a frigid eternity.
Cameron kneeled next to him and tilted her head at an angle, examining the twisting figure. "How do you even sleep at night," she asked rhetorically, knowing he couldn't answer because she was tightening the thorny grip on his fat neck at the same time. She was going to watch this to the very end, unexplainably consumed by thirst for revenge.
"Stop this! This isn't you! This isn't the Allison I know!" Thirteen was desperately trying to get back on her feet and ended up half crawling, half stumbling.
"There's much you don't know," Allison stated. Her expression changed to one of pity when she saw her only friend here struggling and dying the snow with her blood. "Don't fight me," she warned, but Remy was too stubborn and too savvy in matters of self-loathing to listen.
"Listen to me! Whatever you feel towards this man, fear of him is not your greatest fear. Your greatest fear is murdering someone you hate because it's your utmost desire but deep down you know you will never forgive yourself!"
"What are you talking about? I'm not afraid to kill useless animals," Cameron spat out as her fingers traced a line spelling out her own name on the man's chest. Following the line, a thorn dug its way through the skin, imprinting the despised word into his flesh – Allie. Said woman seemed pleased with herself to say the least as she watched her victim gasp and choke on breath.
"Please don't do this. I've been there! I know what it's like to feel the surge of power when you kill, but power is fleeting and the only thing you'll be left with is guilt and more suffering!" Unable to take a step without hurting herself, Thirteen stumbled and dropped to her knees in front of the blonde. "I wanted revenge. I wanted this to end. Do you think relief is what I got?" She grunted and winced in pain as the wires cut valleys into her arms and legs but refused to look away. For the first time, she truly, honestly wanted Cameron to see who she was behind the names and the façade and the greyish blues. "You can see better than anyone. Find your answer, because I'm not going anywhere."
Cameron's eyebrows curved upward and tears followed the salty paths on her cheeks once more. "What have I done?"
Remy sucked in a grateful gulp of air when the wires constricting her loosened their grip, allowing her to breathe freely. She glanced over her shoulder to see the same happening to the wounded man. She brushed off the last remains of the wire and embraced the shivering doll.
"What have I done?" Cameron repeated as she buried her head in the crook of Remy's neck. "I'm a monster."
"Oh no, you could never be. It's just an illusion," the brunette said, cradling Allison in her arms in a desperate attempt to erase the past. "No more, just an illusion."
"Make it go away," Cameron whispered brokenly and her tears dyed Remy's jacket all shades of dark, along with the pain and anguish far too great for one to bear.
The man stood up, gave them one last impish jeer, and disappeared, leaving no doubt as to his true identity in Thirteen. "There, it's gone," she whispered, looking into the distance where her father's voice called out her name. "Forever."
She waited until Allison was lulled into numbness before posing her question, as she knew she only had one chance to ask. "Who was he?" She had a strange feeling that had she known who the person's real equivalent was, she wouldn't have been so eager to stop the blonde.
At first it looked like Cameron didn't hear her at all. She kept clinging to Remy for dear life, occasionally interrupted by a sob. Eventually, the answer came – or something akin to an answer. "House was right the first time around."
"I'm sorry?"
"When Foreman got the job at Diagnostics four years ago, he told me House had only hired him because he saw a black guy with a juvenile record. He had hired Chase because his dad made a call. So I asked him why he hired me." The blonde paused, gathering strength for what was to come.
"And?"
"I still remember every detail of that conversation.'Gorgeous women do not go to medical school,' he said. 'Were you abused by a family member? Sexually assaulted?'"
Thirteen prayed to all the gods from Zeus to Isis and Allah that the punchline of this story wasn't what she expected it to be.
"I denied both. He told me: 'But you are damaged, aren't you?' Afterwards, I ran home and cried myself to sleep. It's not something I'm proud of; I just hate how he's always right with every thing he says, no matter how much I don't want it to be true. And somehow, I still think he knows I lied that time, and that one single pinch of sympathy he has forced him to never mention it again. That man was my uncle," she said almost too quietly to be heard.
At that moment, Thirteen remembered everything. She remembered why she had come up to the blonde and asked her to be her partner. She remembered why she had placed her trust in this woman, why she held her this close when there was nowhere left to go. She remembered why she had been willing to sacrifice her chances and kill for the heartbroken doctor in her arms. She remembered her true mission – to protect the butterfly because she was biologically unable to stand aside and do nothing. It was just too hard for her to watch an angel fall time and again, and she didn't want to resist the need to hold her when she cries. She never wanted Allison to feel this kind of pain again, however naïve her knightly hopes were. "Thank you for telling me," she whispered into the older woman's hair, gently caressing it. "You did good."
"There's a dark layer to you and there's a very dark layer to me. It's in all of us. I have yet to learn how to live with it, but I'll be just fine," Cameron said with determination, looking up at her savior just in time for Thirteen to see her eyes reverting back to the blank void.
I hate what I've become
The nightmare's just begun
I must confess
That I feel like a monster…
Author's Note: Whoa, this was intense. I keep surprising myself. In addition to this chapter being much darker than the others, I basically sat through this and wrote it in about 8 hours since the morning, which is a personal achievement for me… right up to the point when I realize I have a history test to take tomorrow. Oh joy. (Then again, fanfiction is simply more important.)
Lyrics at the end belong to Skillet – Monster. An awesome band right there, I must say.
Do I make them suffer too much?
...
NAAAH. :]
