"Have you prepared Spare the Dying? We need it on stand-by-"

"I'll cast Healing Word, or should we use Prayer of Healing-"

"As a last ditch, we have enough copper and salt to cast Gentle Repose if anything goes wrong-"

"We need to get the Director to clean rooms-"

"I've got her, get the table ready."

Lucretia's head spins. She has to close her eyes against the bright lights of the clerics' wing; her brain feels overstuffed and empty at the same time and the light assaults her senses like someone is stabbing her retinas with shards of glass. She tries to breathe through it, but even that hurts. The edges of her wound pull and stretch, threatening to tear open further and no matter how much Lucretia knows she deserves it, pain is pain, and this fucking sucks.

Her breath hitches in a gasp but Lucretia grits her teeth and pushes through it. Above her, she can see the shadows of the three clerics as they flit around her bed, wheeling her deeper into their wing. They're taking her to a private room. Lucretia doesn't really understand why; there's no one else here.

No one-

Lucretia's eyes shoot open but she ignores the stabbing pain, ignores the way the clerics yelp and snatch at her shoulders, trying to push her back down, ignores the way her wound rips through her gut like fire, and latches onto the nearest person's forearm. The orc woman from the other morning blinks at her, eyes wide.

"No one else was hurt?" Lucretia asks urgently. Her anxiety pushes at the back of her throat, rising like bile. "No one-Avi, Killian-"

Taako?

Something in the orc woman's eyes softens and she opens her mouth but seems not to have any words for her. The elf at Lucretia's other side hasn't stopped muttering healing words but he squeezes Lucretia's shoulder gently.

"No one else," the only human cleric, someone Lucretia doesn't recognize, steps forward. She looks as ruffled and frightened as the others, her blonde curls pulling free of her braid in haphazard clumps. She's got some of Lucretia's blood swiped on her cheek from where she brushed her bangs back. She huffs, reaching out to unclasp Lucretia's hand from around the other woman's arm. "We need to get you secure, Lucretia of Faerun."

Something pings at the back of Lucretia's mind but she slumps back, satisfied. Her fear settles back down. It's alright now. It's all going to be alright.

You think I'm that fucked up? That I'd just- just stand by and let this happen?

Please , Lucretia begs silently. She is not sure who she's begging anymore. Taako and the others to let her go, maybe, or possibly the Raven queen herself to take Lucretia's soul already. Or maybe she's begging the voice in her head to quit speaking. Please just let me rest. Let me rest. I'm so tired. Please.

She could stop now. It's so close, that deep darkness she's longed for; she can practically taste it, sparking like static on her tongue. She could sleep forever. She could finally be at the end of it all.

The world could be right again. Lucretia's friends could truly live in peace.

I don't fucking want this.

Lucretia closes her eyes again, lets herself be wheeled wherever the clerics want her to go. The blonde human's braid brushes her newly healed shoulder as she leans forward to check Lucretia's pulse. It's too slow, Lucretia could tell her that right now; she can feel her heartbeat, labored and strange in her chest. Like it doesn't quite know how to give up but wants to, desperately.

I think there's something wrong with me.

She doesn't want to think that. Because if she thinks that then that means Lucretia knows that there's another way she should be thinking and that means that all this pain, all this time, all this hoping for the end-

No. This has to be the right thing. Dying is the right thing.

Isn't it?

I don't fucking want this.

There are hands at her abdomen, there is cloth being bandaged around her. Lucretia wishes she had the strength to tell them not to bother.

Footsteps, loud as thunder in her ears. Her heartbeat, too slow in her chest. The lights have dimmed. She can feel two of the clerics leave her side. The orc says something about getting an herbalist and medical kit, comparing their ingredients for painkillers.

The pain itself is dull. She's been in pain for a long time; it's more of a companion than anything else, at this point. She welcomes it. It means the end is coming. Maybe the clerics will give up in due time. It would be best for everyone if Lucretia simply slips off quietly.

I don't fucking want this.

Taako's hand at her throat, not pressing or squeezing, but helping. Taako's fingers light on the back of her head, feeling for a wound. Taako tucking her into bed and telling her he'd be there while she sleeps. Taako asking if she'd like some soup when she woke up.

Taako sitting at her hospital bedside that first night, figure blurry when Lucretia opened hazy eyes in the early morning light. Taako's little finger locked with hers when he'd thought she was asleep and hurt.

Taako wrapping his arms around Lucretia and not letting go as her blood soaked his shirt clean through.

I don't fucking want this.

Oh no. No no no. Not now, not after all this time. She's so close, she could just fall asleep. She could just not wake up. He'd be fine. They'd be fine. It would make them happy.

Is that really what you think of me?

Oh Gods.

Something strange is happening inside Lucretia's chest. There's some warm, small, soft thing spreading through her, warming the base of her throat, pricking the backs of her eyes. She can almost feel Taako's little finger linked with hers again.

They don't want this , Lucretia thinks. It's a strange concept. It goes against all logic, against everything Lucretia has led herself to believe for so long. How can it be true? They don't want this?

If they don't want this, if Taako isn't lying-if there's something wrong with Lucretia herself-if all these months she's been the one lying to herself-

But this can't be the case. She'd know the truth. She'd know . She is Lucretia of Faerun, she is the Director of the Bureau of Benevolence. She doesn't make mistakes like this.

Except for all the times you do.

But-but- no. It can't be. She can't have been so, so very wrong, not again. Not about this. She has to be right-she is right. Look at what has happened! The Ragged Harmony wouldn't be trying to kill her if Lucretia had already atoned for her sins.

And that's the rub, isn't it? Taako, Lup, Merle, Magnus-whoever- they could all forgive her but it doesn't make up for what she's done to them. To everyone. She has to atone. She has to make amends.

Is this what you want?

Yes. No. She thought so, once upon a time. She'd been so very sure.

She's not so sure now.

Live, says a small voice that sounds too close to Taako's in her head. Lucretia feels a whine build in her throat but one cleric is still in the room, pacing about and clinking potions together as they get ready to heal more of the internal trauma, and so Lucretia valiantly suppresses it. You have to live now. For them.

That sounds...difficult.

You've never taken the easy way out.

You have to know the truth.

Lucretia opens her eyes. The last cleric is there. Her braid is long and thick and obscures Lucretia's view of the rest of the room as she bends over the Director. The woman is smiling toothily. She has a soaking wet rag in one hand.

It takes Lucretia's sluggish brain a second to catch up to what she is seeing.

"No," the cleric says when Lucretia stiffens, starts to pull away. The fingers of her other hand splay across Lucretia's forehead and she casts Hold Person. Lucretia is down all her spellslots and almost unconscious. It takes hold immediately. Her limbs lock up in paralysis.

"The Ragged Harmony will welcome you home, Lucretia of Faerun," the cleric says sweetly, and the rag is pushed roughly against the lower half of Lucretia's face.

The Chloroform acts quickly. The lights dim again, and as Lucretia drifts, stuck in her own mind, she thinks she can hear Taako's voice from somewhere far away.

I don't fucking want this.