A/N: Griffin and Faragonda have a talk after Faragonda comes to Cloud Tower to inform her about Valtor's escape from Omega. They both have things they need to get off their chests, but when the words refuse to get out, it's time to use an old technique of theirs just for situations like that. Current mood: What have I done?
It was rather strange to lie next to Faragonda. It was like having a sleepover again and she was glad they'd managed to fix their relationship to the point where remembering the good old days didn't leave an acrid taste in her mouth. But this time it was not friendship or laughter that had brought them together.
Faragonda had come to tell her that there'd been... a breach at the Omega portal on Andros. And then she'd offered to stay with her for the rest of the night. She couldn't have denied if she'd wanted to. But Faragonda didn't seem quite there herself.
"If you got the chance," she started, wondering whether that was a good idea but leaving things unspoken seemed too cruel to both of them, "you wouldn't kill him." She didn't want to start with that but she knew Faragonda too well to not sense the abnormal amounts of dark energy flowing from her. Of course, it could be because she'd just seen her student blinded which Griffin was sure would've sent her into a fit of murderous rage had she been in Faragonda's shoes. Even if Layla had healed herself. But it wasn't just that. It wasn't one thing. There was a hurricane of memories swirling in her own head and she knew Faragonda was at the same mental place. Or as close as it could get at least.
"True," Faragonda said, her voice quiet but not because of hesitation or shame.
Griffin had expected that much. It was why she'd went for their old way of talking things out when it was too hard to say the words as they were in your head. There was no need for hiding and lying between the two of them since neither of those was possible anyway. But some things were too difficult to say and too acidic to be kept inside. So they played a game of guessing in which lies were true.
"I can't stand the thought of him hurting you, too," Faragonda was now speaking as they normally would, without turning things around on one-eighty so that they'd be easier to say. And Griffin wished she could reassure her that that wouldn't happen but she'd be lying. And that was not the kind of lie Faragonda would accept. Not even to soothe her restless mind that was no doubt preoccupied with the memories of Oritel and Marion's death. It had hit hard enough to make her willing to murder. And that was something that terrified Griffin because it spoke loud and clear of Faragonda's pain and yet, she had no idea how to help her. "Taking you away..."
"He won't be able to do that," Griffin said as she took Faragonda's hand in hers. That she could promise her. He could do many things to both of them–a lot of which most certainly worse than death–but not that.
"He hates you," Faragonda fired out as she pulled her hand away, running from false, empty comfort just like Griffin had thought she would. But that wasn't what her words were.
"I know." That was something that had been proven many times. Yet, it still hurt enough for her to wish to deny it, wish to jump back into a version of their game where they could change the truth by not accepting it. "That's exactly why I'm saying it. I know him best." And she knew he wouldn't let her live in peace but he wouldn't kill her either. For that would end her suffering. And he had too much hatred to spare to deprive himself of a target to aim it at. Especially the one that had hurt him like no one else ever had.
"You don't love him anymore?" It didn't escape Griffin's notice that Faragonda's tone was questioning. As if she wasn't quite sure whether this was part of their game or reality. And she wished for that uncertainty, too, because knowing the answer hurt too much.
"True," she said even though confirming the lie was just as hard as saying the truth would've been. She never would've been able to speak those words. Or their opposites for that matter. Because the truth was that both hurt. Both burned. In different ways. But still enough to leave vicious wounds behind that could only be soothed by one thing. And that wasn't the lies she told herself, but a truth that would never come from him. For Valtor would never love her again.
