So, the other day i was saying to myself "You know what? Im gonna write a short and very emotional one-shot."

That was a month ago, and the one-shot turned into this.

Actually, it technically is still a single chapter. I just divided it into 5 pats so it would be easier to correct and publish (and read).

Anyway, long story short here i am. I wanted to write something about Sasha coping with Marcy's death, and how she would hold a funeral for her. Also, Sasha is an orphan in this story, i dont think that's canon complaint now? Still, i like how it turned out.

So thats it! I'll try to publish the whole story before the new season drops by. Hope you guys like it!

Sasha held her breath as she pushed her way out of the forest hedge, and released it once the old mill came into view. She'd been running for the last 72 hours and, until now, she thought she'd never stop. The mill-slash-base of operations of Grime's Army was just as they had left it. Cripplingly small, dirty and barely one step above a hovel. Just what they needed.

Behind her came Grime, pushing the tree branches aside, right arm bandaged showing a three days old blood stain. He's been a rock ever since they left Newtopia; his rhythm and courage steady as ever. Sasha was proud of him almost as much as she was ashamed of herself.

Grime slammed the door open and they wasted no time before blocking it with wood planks. The duo worked like lightning to secure the house, moving in unison without a word. Soon enough they had barricaded all the windows and blocked every hole, mill sinking in total darkness. Only the backdoor was left ready to use, and Grime had his eyes on it.

Sasha pulled a fake plank from the northeast wall, revealing the hidden spy-hole. If —or when— the soldiers come, it'll be from the north. From Newtopia.

Captain and Lieutenant kept watch, as the minutes ticked by. A while after, Grime dared to speak. "I think we're safe." He sighed, tiredness creeping in his voice. "Guess we'll live another day. Hooray."

Sasha's chest tightened up, but she didn't provide any comment. She was on watch duty now. Any minute now there'll be newt-guards at their door. Or rangers with flaming arrows, ready to burn them alive inside the mill. Or flying killing robot frogs popping outta the woods swooping on them—because those were a thing, apparently.

But time kept going and nothing happened. No robots, no soldiers. Just the usual rustling of animals and bugs crawling on the woods.

Grime returned —and this was the moment Sasha noticed he'd been gone— holding a lighted candle and a glass of water.

"Close the hole already. We lost the soldiers. With some luck, our trail would cold off before they find it. We just gotta worry about them scouting parties now." Grime offered Sasha the glass of water, and a tiny smile. "Drink. You haven't had a drop since we crossed the river."

Sasha opened and closed her mouth, arid lips hurting as they brushed. Grime was right, obvi. He was also being stupid. Sasha didn't want to drink, or rest or be logical; she wanted to fight!

"Later." She bumped shoulders with Grime as she passed him by. "Gonna inspect the perimeter." Sasha felt the further south wall until she found the hidden lock. "Andrias had surely put a bounty on our heads now, and I won't wait 'till those bastards come to chug us down."

She flipped the lock and pushed the wall outside, door hinges creaking due to lack of use. She ignored Grime's call for her and went to the backyard. From the outside, the door was disguised as another part of the wall. Sasha's best idea ever. She never thought she would use it again.

Sasha dragged her feet back to the woods. Newtopian scouts could be hidden, knowing that Grime would return to his old base, and all they had to do was to wait. Intended to find them first, Sasha began to aimlessly walk, looking for something odd. Or more accurately, looking for something that wasn't there. No sign of scouts or hunter's traps. No yelling from soldiers, giving them chase. No footsteps except hers and Grime's and those banished the further she went into the woods.

It was true then. They'd escaped. They'd actually reached their destination with no-one behind them. If Grime was right —and Sasha was beginning to think so—, they'd lost the soldiers at least a day ago.

For the first time in three days, Sasha was alone, with only the howling wind and the buzzing bugs keeping her company. She found a great, wide oak and leant against it, sliding to the ground. And she breathed, filling her lungs with peace and quiet at long last. Then she took notice of her body. She was ridiculously tired. Her feet hurt like nothing else, and her legs and arms were covered in scratches and dried cuts. Her stomach rumbled and her head throbbed, both of them begging for some rest.

Diagnosis? She was a mess. Even worse than when Jeremy Meyers had put that spider on Marcy's head on science class, and Sasha had to give him a piece of her mind —and her fists. She ended up going alone against the whole football team. That was a battle for the ages, definitely worth the two months detention.

I should clean some of these wounds, Sasha thought and reached for her cape. Ah, that's right. She'd lost it. Never mind then, it was an old thing anyway. Instead she checked her pockets for the spare rag she kept around. What she found took all air out of her.

She pulled her hand out; the small plastic barrette shined sick green under the morning sun. Why Marcy liked it so much, it was a mystery. But she always was a girl of habits and routine. And she was the most forgetful person ever —didn't lose her head because it was stuck to her neck. And green was her favorite color. So it stands to reason she would've hundreds of variations of this same clip, all of them the same vomit hue.

Sasha found herself weirded out by the silence. It felt wrong, being all by herself, after spending the last few days with her girls. She flipped the clip between her fingers, recalling how it came into her hands in the first place…

The castle quaked to its foundations, tilting one side and the other as if being shaken by giant hands, and it was easy to see why. The Music Box was gone from its pedestal. Marcy had it now. The girl opened it and was working on it, fingers pushing hidden buttons. It seemed to work, for a rainbow colored hole was manifesting into the air. A portal to the Universe. A way home.

"No!" Andrias growled and made a run for the portal.

Like Hell he was! Sasha and Grime cut his way, weapons drawn.

"Me and Grime will hold him. Just go!" Sasha shouted at Anne and, for the first time since forever, the girl didn't question her.

Anne and the Plantars made a line towards the gate. Sasha and Grime gave everything they had. Grime, specially, was fearless in his attacks —he actually hurt Andrias! Quite a success compared to Sasha; the only one of her attacks that connected was swiftly riposted by a shove of Andrias' tail, throwing Sasha against a wall. Pain flowed through her whole body as she made rope jumps between being conscious and comatose.

In her dazed state, sounds came distorted and mashed up. The melodic rumbling of the box's so-called magic. The panicked voice of Anne and Marcy. Andrias, shrieking like a banshee for the box.

Sasha opened her eyes, and was blinded by a burning light. Then she heard the rip. Anne screamed. Sasha thought she did too.

Sasha brought her hands to her hair and began to pull. The stinging pain was soothing in a disgusting way, quieting all the noise in her brain. Shy tears manifested themselves but Sasha brushed them away.

Stop it, just stop it you idiot! Pathetic coward! Stupid… big-butted jerk! She told herself, plus any other insult she could come up with. The hairclip on her hand was so small, so fragile. Like a splinter. With a bit of force Sasha could break it up; have it all over with.

CREACK.

Sasha sprang into action, drawing her sword and slashing the air. She froze once she saw her opponent's familiar face —sword five inches shy of the toad's neck.

Captain Grime was stoic as a rock. "Good to know your reflexes are still on point, Lieutenant."

"Grime! Hey..." Sasha said, voice unusually high pitched. She sheathed her swords and hid the barrette inside her pocket. "How's your arm?"

Grime showed his new shiny bandage. "The wound's all close up. See, that's the problem with burning weapons. If it doesn't get you at the moment, you end up with a cauterized wound."

Sasha hummed. She didn't need to think about the burning sword right now. "And the base?"

"Grim and filthy, just how I like it. Pretty sure a pack of roaches moved in, but at least we'll have something to kill the time with." Grime scratched his neck. "I did put the curtains back on, so at least it looks more homely."

Grime's forced smile did nothing to lift Sasha gloomy mood. Grime saw this and dropped it.

"So… how're you holding on?"

"Fine, I guess. Got a few cuts but nothing to deep. My feet are blisters farm, tho," said Sasha.

"Not what I meant, but thanks for the blister update."

Grime leant against the same tree Sasha was using, but jumped like he'd been burnt. He reached for his back, his shoulders specifically. He went 'ha!' and pulled, sighing with pure relief. Sasha on the other hand nearly lost her lunch at the sight of the black arrow.

"This shit's been bothering me for two days. Take a look at it." Grime touched the broken shaft. The pointy end was missing. "The arrowhead broke down, but the rest got stuck inside the breastplate. No wonder my back was hurting."

And just like that he threw the broken arrow to the ground and then leant back against the tree again, pure calmness.

"Anyway. That stuff in the castle. Marcy." Grime spelled out, not deciding between being serious or awkward. "How are you dealing with it?"

Sasha crossed her arms and took a look around. At the stupid trees, the stupid ground. The stupid arrow that could've pierced her Captain's lung if the archer haven't been a lousy shot. And she thought…

"They'll come at night," she stated, as if it was evident.

"Say what now?" said Grime, for whom it wasn't.

"They'll come at night! It's so obvious." Sasha began to pace around, full of furious energy. "Why would Newtopia attack now, when we're obviously expecting it? We've been running for days. We're tired, hungry, and on the verge of a mental collapse and they know it."

"… Go on."

"So what're they gonna do? They'll wait until we're too tired to stay awake, and then BAM! Burned out alive inside the mill. We'll go out in our beds and we won't even know it. So what're we gonna do about it?" Grime opened his mouth to speak, but Sasha didn't let him. "We're gonna set traps. Protect the whole perimeter. We'll need to chop some wood, make some pikes-"

Tired of the talk already, stepped forward.

"Listen Sasha. If you want to set traps because it'll make you feel better, go ahead," said Grime, more serious than ever. "But I think you know it's not gonna fix what happened at the castle."

Sasha's felt rabid. She didn't need to be talked down like she was crazy! And yet she found herself wandering back to that cursed place…

The light took the shape of a sword. Anne screamed. Sasha wanted to scream but couldn't. Marcy was silent, even as Andrias' sword pierced her chest.

"Now look what you made me do." Andrias' voice was devoid of all emotion.

Marcy's mouth finally moved; it was a message just for Anne. Then she felt to the ground, closing the box —and the portal— in the process.

Anne was gone. At last, Sasha's emptied her lungs in a scream.

"Sasha. Sasha!"

Sasha's mind crash landed into the real world, with Grime shaking her up like a ragdoll. She shoved the toad away. "Geez' I'm fine! Stop getting your stinky breath on my face."

Grime said nothing, but gave her a look. More accurately, THE look. The one Principal Brown's always sported when she called Sasha to her office; that old 'you know what you're doing and why you're here' look.

They were quiet for a while. Sasha didn't move, but the nervous energy hasn't abandoned her, so she released it by kicking leaves and branches.

Finally, Grime spoke firmly. "I think you should head to the base. Catch some sleep, you know? You'll be safe there."

"Yeah yeah, I know." Sasha winced again. Why was she so on the edge still?

"Good." Grime put his cloak over his head. "We need supplies, so I'll head into town. I'll be back in an hour or so."

Going to town? Now? That couldn't be right. "You're joking, right? Grime, we're war criminals now. Even more so than before. You can't head into town just like that," she said.

"That's why I got this cape, duh. Besides, I'm not Percy and Braddock. I can move unseen!" Grime reassured her. "Go to sleep. I'll be back soon."

The toad took one step forward. It felt like a whole abyss distance to Sasha. Her chest tightened. The arrow was gone but she could still see it in Grime's back, piercing the skin, drawing blood.

"Grime, wait!"

Grime froze and spoke with an eager voice. "Yes?"

Sasha felt her ears going red. Don't lose it now, girl. She put both hands behind her back, in a commanding posture she'd used many times before.

"Don't take too long. It's not safe outside." She shut her lips close and gave her back to Grime. Eventually, she heard footsteps going away and Sasha considered going after, but decided against it at last second.

Snap out of it Sash. There's still much to do. Grimothy will be fine. Don't loose your cool now! She berated herself and rubbed the sides of her head with her knuckles. It helped her to focus

The sun was at its ten. They were at least a day ahead of the Newtopian forces. Plenty of time to turn the mill into a fortress. And she was Sasha Waybright, for Frog's sake! So what if she was still shaken? Nothing too terrible about that. She could live on, as long as she'd something to look forward.

With this new sense of purpose, she spent the next minutes cutting down some wood and gathering leaves and twigs, before heading back to their new-old base.

The sun was at its six, and Sasha had kept it together by hard work and blood-red thoughts.

She'd hid foothold traps in strategic points around the house, leaf-covered snare traps by the trees, and a circle of rope connected to a set of bells around the outer limits to alert them in case of unwanted visitors —either wild animals or Amphibians.

Sasha reflected on her good work, cleaning the moisture from her face. She was soaking wet with sweat, and now that she'd stopped moving, the coldness was catching up to her. The sun had nearly settled behind the mountains and the first stars had appeared. A flock of birds flew over Sasha's head. She smacked her face as she understood what it meant.

That's just great. All day setting up ground defenses that will be useless, since Andrias has an army of flyingrobots!

Sasha exploded in a fit of kicks and groans. Now she'll have to set defenses on the roof. Buy binoculars, maybe a telescope, to keep an eye on the sky. Bows and arrows could take down sky bound attackers, but neither she nor Grime were good shoots.

Marcy was. Marcy would've made a priority list and put 'barricade the roof' at the top. She always knew what to do.

A gust of chill wind rose up, and the sun finished its descent. It was nighttime. Any work Sasha wanted to do will have to wait until morning. Reluctantly, Sasha headed to the mill.

Several candles have been set on, which set Sasha on alert. A shadow moved behind the kitchen curtains. How could anyone get inside without her noticing? Never mind. They won't last long.

Sasha drew her swords and sneak up to the shadow. Then the shadow burped loud enough to rattle the walls. Sasha groaned and drew the kitchen curtain.

'Kitchen', of course, was just an expression. There was no kitchen in a mill. But back when they lived here 24/7, Sasha had decided the 'base' was too rat hole-like for her taste. She'd decreed that the far north corner of the mill was the kitchen (since they already had a table there), and had bought cheap by the meter fabric to use as curtains. Boom! Instant kitchen. That was back when Braddock and Percy were here. When they were a Dream Team and Sasha had plans.

Now there was only Grime sitting by the table, face slightly red, with a half-full bottle in one hand and a half-full glass on the other.

Once he saw Sasha, Grime's mouth grew into a smile. "Sasha! 'Bout time! How's the trapping going?"

Sasha buffed and dropped her shoulders. This day keeps getting better.

"It's going," she said. "Why didn't you let me know you got back?"

"Uh, I did? Hello!" Grime suddenly shouted and wagged his glass. "I said hi to you and you went all 'grrr' at me."

Sasha blushed. She remembered something like that, but she wasn't pay attention. Not that she was super interested in the sight now. She hated when Grime got like this. Drinking was fine. Drinking to forget, to chug down your feelings while there is so much work to do? Pathetic.

She was more interested, however, in the grocery bag on the table. The smell of food was intoxicating, and Sasha was feeling a bit wobbly.

"At least I did something." Sasha tore open the bag and took out a loaf of bread. She tore chunks of it with her hands and began to eat, not bothering to sit down. "That is more than what I can say about you, Captain."

"Well, kudos to you, Lieutenant," Grime sourly grumbled. "When Andrias comes down of his flying fortress with his endless army of robots, make sure he knows the good job you did."

Sasha growled at him the best she could with a bread stuffed mouth. It all got stuck on her throat, and she'd to hit her chest to help it go down.

Grime poured the bottle content in an empty glass. "Before you choke to death, have some of this."

Sasha shook her head no. "You know I don't-."

"No no no." Grime wagged his finger like a nagging mother. "This isn't that piss-like ale we made you drink at Toad Tower. This-" he lifted his own glass. "-this is Scum Beetle Fire Spit. The good stuff. Had it on my person, to celebrate the victory."

He flopped his arms around, showing everything that was —and wasn't. "So let's celebrate, ha!"

Sasha considered it for a second. "No. Go throw yourself down a hill."

"Maybe later. Now grab a sit and drink with me." Grime insisted. Sasha turned to leave, but Grime spoke again. "Wait wait, let me tell you what." The toad fished into his pockets and pulled out a few coins. "I got… twenty? That sounds right. Twenty coppers here that say you can't drink half a glass before throwing up."

Sasha snorted. Now she was just offended. Twenty coppers barely covered the price of the bread she'd eaten. Besides, she didn't get up of bed from less than a silver.

"You knowI'm fourteen, right? And don't tell me kids drink that shit down here," Sasha said, but Grime didn't seem disturbed.

"Do you have something better to do?"

Unfortunately, no. It was too dark to do any work outside. There wasn't much work to do inside. And going to sleep —tired as Sasha was— was out of discussion. She was lost at sea, not going forward or backwards. Tentatively, she took the glass from Grime's hands. The liquid inside was blackish-red and turbid. It looked like blood. Talking about irony, uh?

Well, the day's already ruined. Might as well join Grime in his path to self-destruction. Sasha threw a few coins over the table.

"Fifty coppers say I can drink a whole glass." She smirked and sat down on the table.

Grime smile was long and happy. "It's on!"

An hour and a half later, it was beyond doubt: Sasha could hold her drink. It was also obvious Grime was a lousy gambler.

He'd bet on Sasha calling quits after a few sips. That Fire Spit was strong; even Grime's stomach had voiced its protests as he drank the red liquid.

Not only had Sasha finished her whole glass, she'd doubled the bet for another glass. Then Grime had tripled it. Now he was a very poor man and Sasha was a very drunk girl.

Sure, Sasha had drunk before; you can't spend months with rowdy, foul-mouthed soldiers and not take part in one drinking competition. But she has never 'been drunk' before. How did she know? Well, last time she drank the room wasn't spinning like it was now. Nor was it shiny blue, like it was now.

"I think this shit's broken," she slurred, at a way higher volume than necessary.

That's another bet Grime had lost. He'd deemed Sasha for a crying-drunk not a screaming, grumpy one. The more you now…

"What makes you think that?" said Grime, sleepy head resting on one hand.

"This stuff's supposed to make me feel happy, and I ain't feeling it." Sasha licked her lips. "Or my tongue. Or my mouth." Her head felt heavy so she dropped like lead over the table, sending her hard earned money clinging to the floor. "I do feel my teeth tho. Ish that normal?"

"How should I know? It's the first time I drink this shit too." Grime confessed. "I bought it from some bum in Wartwood. Wally-something was his name. He said it was all the rage." Grime hummed. "He also said frogs use it to rust off iron beams. Maybe that's why you feel like that."

Sasha ogled inside her glass, searching for answers. "Grime, you're a schuball."

"I'm a what?"

"A slumball."

Grime wondered if he could have a hangover headache while still being drunk. "You mean aslimeball?"

Sasha pointed at him. That was it. She reached for the Fire Spit bottle. And keep reaching and reaching. Who put it so far away?

"I think you drank your fill, Lieutenant." Grime was holding the bottle high in the air, way to high for a drunken Sasha to reach.

That sounded right. It was late enough anyway. Or too early? In any case, it was sleep time and the table wasn't too shabby to not black out over.

Sasha rested her arms over the table and hid her face inside, ready for some shut-eye. Grime, however, was feeling chatty.

"You know, I've been thinking," he said.

"Call the wether furcast. It's raining cats and dogs," she said.

Grime tilted his head to the sky, as if waiting to see something come down the roof.

"I was thinking," Grime insisted, "that I've never considered myself a… good person." Sasha lifted her head up to look at him. "It's not that I'm a monster, either. Before I was a captain, I was a gladiator, and before that I was an urchin. I never had the luxury of worry about morality. I did what I had to: thievery, bribery, extortion, the occasional kidnapping, you get the idea. I broke out every skull and every bone —not necessary my own— to get where I'm now. So I figured out 'what's the harm in adding treason and regicide to the list? One more strip to the spider-tiger, am I right?'

"And then it turns out the King's evil and I thought 'WOW! I did not see that coming'… Did you see that coming?" Sasha shook her head no because that was some M. Night Shyamalan bullshit. "But then I thought… Wow. Maybe this is good? Maybe I could do something right for the toads, for all of Amphibia. Maybe I could be 'Grime the Hero' for a chance." Grime laughed without humor. "How delusional."

They went quiet for a while. Grime relaxed against the seat, letting his arms fall to his sides, while Sasha played with a silver coin. It read 'In the King we trust'.

Yeah, that was the whole problem to begin with.

"And then… then everything went to Hell," said Grime absentminded. "We lost; Hell, they kick our asses like never before. And yet, when we were there, fighting side by side with your friends against that despot, that was my choice. Not Andrias', not the Toad Lords'. Mine. And it hit me… we were the good guys at last. For real this time."

A violent laughter went through Sasha, shaking her to the core. She tried to hold it, but it came back with a vengeance. Like it had a life on its own; the shadow of every disgusting thought she ever had.

"Of course we lost, ya moron. Do you live in a cave?" She shoved an accusing finger in the air. "Bad guys always win, good guys always loose, and life ain't fair. Issafact."

Grime grumbled, arms crossed. "'It's a fact'," he said in a mockup tone that got Sasha's goat. "Who do you think you are? You're going fifteen, what do you know about life?" He put his arms on the table and leant closer to Sasha. "I was never a bastard because it was 'cool'. I was a bastard because it paid. But what would you even know about that? You have no idea what its like."

Sasha chuckled. No, she probably didn't. She couldn't know anything about struggling. She didn't know what it was like to be abandoned by your family, to being put up with a bunch of troublemaking kids nobody liked. She couldn't know what it was like to fight kids twice her size to get to keep the little stuff she actually owned. She had no clue what it was like to find out you can make anyone do what you want, as long as you say what they wanted to hear, only to discover that when you do it to your friends, they'll resent you for it. To know they'll abandon you the first chance they get.

So yeah. Sasha didn't know anything about struggling in the same way Grime didn't knew the first thing about being a gladiator.

"I just don't wanna talk about the invasion, OK?" said Sasha.

She set her head down and thought, for a moment, that Grime had dropped the subject.

"What about your friend? Marcy," said Grime. Sasha hid her face on her elbow, because she was too drunk to deal with all of this. "Sasha, there's nothing you could've done about it. Marcy's dead, and I-"

It was fast; so fast even Sasha didn't know it happened until it was over. In a flash, she'd grabbed the glass and emptied it on Grime's face. The man stood up, shaking his head, wetting everything around. He picked a rag and cleaned the vile liquid from his face. He wasn't happy. Well, Grime was never happy, but now he was negative happy.

"You have no remedy." Grime threw the rag over the table. "Why do I even bother with you?"

Good question, thought Sasha. If Anne were here, she could've answered it. Only she knew why.

Sasha said nothing and sat back on the chair —or 'felt down and caught herself with the table' to be more accurate. Grime grabbed her by the arm, trying to get her up.

"Come on, the party's over. Let's take you to bed." Grime's drunken excuse of a grip couldn't lift Sasha of her chair.

The girl wagged a finger at him. He was being a softy now, and she couldn't stand it.

"Nononono," she slurred. "I sleep here. I'm a drunkard now, which means I gotta black out over a table. That's my a… a… aes-the-thic now." Sasha let her head fall over her arms. "Marcy would like that," she thought, although she didn't mean to voice it.

Grime mumbled a lot of baloney, of which Sasha only caught 'if you say so'. She heard him pick the bottle from the table before leaving the room. She was alone. Fortunately, Sasha's mind had left the room too. The world was too fuzzy, too shaky. Too real. Sleeping would do her good. Just let her dreams take her far, far away, to another world that didn't hurt.

Marcy would like that too.

So there it is.

REMEMBER KIDS, drinking have never solved anything. Also, dont let your friends/parents/adult-figures peer pressure you into drinking. Tell them to jump down a hill.

Seriously tho, Sasha and Grime are a messed up duo, but they care a lot about eachother. You just cant see it yet.

As i said, i'll try to publish the whole fic before the weekend.

Don't forget to comment if you liked it!