CONTAINS CONTENT:
Grief
{{Unedited}}
Marielle shuffled into her apartment and picked Felix up when he rubbed against her legs, holding him and rubbing her face against his cheek for a moment before turning her attention to the rest of the living room.
Vincent was sitting on the couch, and he was swirling a glass of some kind of clear liquor on his knee. His eyes were locked on her fireplace, but there were no flames. “It’s already too late, isn’t it?” he repeated from several hours ago.
Felix looked to him, then up at her as if awaiting a reply and she set him down. He went off into the kitchen where his food was.
Marielle came to him, sitting down and reached for his glass. “What are you drinking?” She asked and she sniffed, wiping her nose. Her crying hadn’t stopped until a few minutes ago, and Vincent could see the red in her eyes, and the streaks on her pale cheeks.
He handed it to her. “Grey Goose,” he replied.
She sipped a little, and handed it back to him. Then her eyes found his. “I’m not leaving you.”
“Did Austin tell you to say that?”
She sighed. “Yes.”
He shook his head and looked off, his eyes wandering over the photos over her fireplace. “So, it is already too late.”
“What do you want?” She asked, shrugging a shoulder, “you’ve said it already, right? I love him.”
“You’re in love with him.”
“I don’t know. I won’t allow myself to go there. I only know that I have feelings for him.”
“You feel him,” he sighed, leaning back.
She took his glass again and finished the bitter liquid. “I’m staying with you.”
“You love him.”
“I love you, too,” she snapped, glaring at him.
“I know,” he said with a nod, the golden lines on his face gleaming. He did know. He cleared his throat and reached for the bottle of Grey Goose that was sitting on the coffee table.
She was staring at the fireplace with him. “Do you… want to turn the fireplace on, love?” she asked, gesturing to it with her head.
He was looking off, “Do you?” He asked. Something hung over both; as if Vincent knew- understood that her reasoning for this had to do with Austin, and her desire for him.
“Yes,” she said with a small nod.
“Then I’ll light it in a minute.” He turned to her after pouring himself another shot. “You say that you don’t want to leave me. What if I told you that there were more secrets that I am keeping?”
“I expected that there would be,” she whispered with a sigh as she turned away.
“You do realize that I am the villain here, right? You said so yourself, in Italy.” She nodded, slowly. “Then why? Why do you insist on loving me?”
“I can’t help it?” She asked, her voice coming out thin. He swallowed and glanced away. “You… I’m so deeply attracted to you, and I can’t explain why,” she begged. “I feel safe with you, and I feel like you would never cheat on me, or hurt me in those ways. Not like-”
“Not like Austin?” He finished for her. She nodded slowly, caught. “You’re right, I wouldn’t. When you and I were you and I, you were the only one who swayed my heart in any way. You changed me, Marielle. I went from being a cold, callous killer who was also a clown,” he spat, “to feeling alive, and in love. I knew that my entire world would revolve the rest of my life around nothing but you.”
Her eyes welled, “That’s why I love you, and keep choosing you,” she whispered. “Because I know that those words are true.”
“But you go to him,” he replied flatly. She sighed. “You rush to his side. You love him,” he added, drinking more. He was going to get drunk if he kept this up.
Silence lingered between them. “What do you need to tell me, now?”
“That I’m responsible for Tala’s death,” he blurted.
“No, you’re-“
He raised a hand, shutting her up, “I am,” he said bluntly. And her eyes narrowed on him. “You said it yourself; she was young. Why did I let her come along to Valorant Sicily?” He baited. She paused, thinking. “Because I was going to trade her to them,” he explained.
She stood away from the couch, glaring down at him. “You were going to what?” She demanded.
He shrugged, almost dismissively, but then his hubris slipped and tears welled in his eyes. “Sh- her suit, -” he let out a ragged breath. “It has just as much ability – at least I think it does – to bridge the gap. I was going to trade her for you.”
“What?”
Vincent slipped off the couch onto his knees, slowly lifting his hands as tears fell from his dark eyes. “Listen to me… I did not know that she would die. It wasn’t my intention.”
“Instead your intention was to- to give her over to psychopaths?” Marielle choked out.
“I was hoping that I could explain the situation and they would leave us alone. Little did I know that they already had their own Tala. She must have come to them recently, she wasn’t there when I left,” he explained, standing, and facing the window. He shook his head, “She died for nothing.” He growled, staring down into the street. Then he took the glass in his hand and threw it back. “I screwed up,” he growled, turning and throwing the glass into the fireplace where it shattered. He whirled to Marielle, “I didn’t want any of this!” He spat. He took a few slow steps toward her. “Marielle, when I came here for you, all that I wanted was you. I have been trying to outrun a derailed train this entire time. I just want you,” he explained, cupping her cheek. She was trembling, “I just want you,” he repeated. “All I’ve ever truly wanted was you.” Silent tears rolled down Marielle’s pale cheeks. “I didn’t want her to die, Masin, you must believe me. I had hoped that I could explain about her suit and what it did and that they’d leave us all alone.”
Marielle looked down, intense emotions warring within her. She knew that he was telling the truth. Her death was an accident, he didn’t know that they’d encounter Tundra, or that Tundra would kill Tala just to get away. Tala hardly knew it herself before she hit the ground, dead.
“I have done nothing but be a fool since I’ve gotten here. How could I have known? How could I have planned for any of this?”
“You saved their Tala…” Marielle said, it came out thin- hardly a whisper.
“Oui. But it doesn’t change how that happened.”
“You didn’t know.”
“Damn right, I didn’t! But I should have,” he explained. “I’m a horrible, selfish man, Masin,” he added. “I just want my wife, and she’s falling in love with another man. I saw that coming, too… and now I have no idea how to sweep up the broken pieces created by me.” His eyes were a well of deep, horrible sadness that she knew that she could never soothe over with any balm.
She stood back looking him over as she took herself away from his touch and he straightened, squaring his shoulders, and pocketing his hands.
Taking him in, she saw the intense pain in his eyes. Pain that she could never find in Chamber’s expressions. She saw how desperately he just wanted all of this to end. “You love me so much, don’t you?”
“Oui, I do. I do, so- so much.”
“Will you promise me that you will make no further plans involving anyone on this team?” He nodded. “Will you swear to me that you are not planning something else, now?”
He lifted his hands in a shrug and let them fall to his sides, “I am planning, Masin. I have to, now. But I will not purposefully give up, or kill anyone else on this side. I didn’t mean to do it this time. This is why I’m going to suggest that Mateo and Tala go into hiding until this is all done. They’re children. Let’s remove them from this entirely. Cory thinks that his Tala is dead. Let him think that.”
“He does?” Marielle’s eyes were rimmed with tears, but they became hopeful when he said this.
Vincent nodded. “I lied to him and told him that she was to save her. I will not risk her again,” he said shakily. “She can hate me for all of time for making her leave the fight, but I will not take her into one again.” Marielle sat back on the couch and stared once again into the empty fireplace, noting the bits of twinkling glass on the floor. “Ma- may I hold you? May I draw you to me?” He asked gently. Her eyes sparkled with a million thoughts and feelings that she knew that he couldn’t read. Austin would be able to pick up some of this, but Vincent would never be able to. “Marielle,” he whispered. “Masin. I want to make love to you,” he whispered tenderly. “Please.” Again, he was slipping to his knees. “Please forgive me,” he breathed, and his tone showed her two things. The first was that this was something that he was really and truly sorry for. The second was that he hadn’t intended it at all. He had never planned for Tala to get killed.
She breathed a sigh out, cursing herself for her empathy and how she could see things from his point of view. If their roles had been reversed, she might have led Tala, or someone else down the same accidental deadly path. “I forgive you,” she whispered.
He broke, putting his forehead to her shoulder. “Masin, Masin, I love you so much,” he whimpered. “I’m so, so sorry.” He had her hand in his and he was gently kissing her knuckles. “Do you want me?” He asked huskily.
“I always want you, Vincent,” she breathed, finally turning her gaze to him.
His nostrils flared, and he leaned in, kissing her deeply and holding her close after. His arms wrapped tightly around her, and he pulled her so close that she disappeared against his drumming heartbeat which screamed her name with every pulse and pound. After a few moments where he dried her tears, and his own, he put his forehead to hers and he whispered, “We can’t tell anyone that part. Will you be able to keep that a secret?”
She nodded. “I will, and I’ll do it not only for you, but for her.”
He kissed her again, melting against her, this time he came over her on the couch and his kisses began to deepen, showing his growing need for her body against his. But to her surprise, he pulled back a little. “First… we need to talk about something else,” he explained and his eyes wandered down her body, hungrily. “Turn,” he whispered, making a swirling motion with his hand. She did so. Then his hands moved down her tattoo, “does it still hurt?” She shook her head. He put pressure on different parts; a soft smile rested on the left side of his mouth. It was lovely; her beautiful, dripping silver wings that also ran down her arms. He leaned in, kissing her shoulder blade, and running his mouth up her back, and to the top of her spine, where he snaked his hand around the front, ran it down her face, and let his fingers glide around her neck for a moment before dropping it. She closed her eyes and her head rolled back at his perusal. “You’ve healed well. Austin helped you with that,” he noted, dismissively. “Now the next part,” he explained. She turned to him in interest, listening. “I want to be very clear with you one last time,” he began, “absolutely transparent.” She swallowed, hard. “Right now, Masin, you have a pretty tattoo; it suits you. It’s lovely, and well executed. I like to brag sometimes about my art, this is no exception…” His eyes wandered to the equipment in the corner, next to the piano. “Once I even start to put those things in your body there is no going back; I must finish the job. It will be uncomfortable for the rest of your life,” he reiterated. “Sometimes you won’t feel it. Other times you’ll fell nothing except that, and sometimes when all that you want is peace it will not leave you alone. Yes, you can take them out and you’ll feel normal for a few hours. Then they’ll return to you, and you’ll be stuck with them again. It’s forever. A tattoo is forever, too, but you can forget about it; you can pretend that it’s not there. This is not like that. You will always feel it, Masin.”
Her eyes searched his. “Does it hurt?”
“At first, but after that it dulls to… sometimes it’s like an itch that you can’t really scratch,” she filled her lungs with air and held it in for a moment. “When I did this to myself, I made the technology, and it was… crude at best. Since then, I’ve worked on it a bit. It won’t be quite as harsh for you, but some days still quite like a headache that you will only be able to rid yourself of for a few hours at a time. You will hate it,” he warned. “You will finally relax and find the relief that you so seek, and these will return to your body right when you don’t want them to, and the timer will reset, and you’ll have to wait again. I made the timer eight hours for you instead of six.” She let the air out and ran her fingers through her hair as she leaned over her knees. “Tell me now, Masin… is this what you really want?”
She only took a moment before thinking about the last few days, before turning to him. “Yes.”
He nodded and stood going to the case that held the final items, and motioned for her to follow him to the bedroom; she did.
Then, he made her slip out of her shirt and lay face down on the bed where he took out the elements of the last step- an injection gun, and slowly straddled her lower back.
Shaking, he put a hand to her back and stroked gently, possessively. His actions were clear – this is mine, and I don’t want you to be in pain, or to suffer, but I also like that you want me to change you to be a little more like me. My permanent mark will be on you forever, Masin. For-ever.
She took a deep breath as he held the gun, tip pointed at the ceiling. “One last time,” he whispered, then he slowly came down to her right ear, “this is permanent and completely undoable.”
She swallowed, and nodded, winding the sheets up in her fist and squeezing. “Do it.”
He exhaled into her ear, and slowly sat back up, adjusted his tie, and nodded. “Okay,” he breathed, a bit disappointed. “I need you to hold as still as possible. This will take about ten seconds. It will hurt, but not as badly as the first part. Do your best not to move.”
She swallowed as tears filled her eyes, “Okay.”
He lowered the gun, “I’m going to pierce you… now,” he explained, and she felt the tip of the needle enter her skin near the base of her spine. He paused, “Last chance,” he repeated.
“It’s okay, Vincent. I accept the consequences.”
He spent the plunger and in went billions microscopic nano bots. For a moment she wanted to scream out and tell him to stop, but she knew that it was only the panic that set in after realizing that she’d told him to do this to her.
Gritting her teeth, she waited until he removed the needle and got off her.
She immediately understood what both he, and Austin warned her about. Her skin all down her back and the backs of her arms felt alive… too alive; uncomfortably alive. It was bad, but she continued to grit her teeth and let everything settle.
She sat up, her eyes rimmed with tears, a hand over her shoulder as if realizing exactly what she’d agreed to.
Vincent had already set the gun aside, and noting her expression, he drew her to him, with a groan. “Oh, love… oh, my love,” he breathed. “I know.” He took his fingers and rubbed them up and down her back in a way that was like scratching, but used no nail. “I know,” he whispered compassionately. “Let it settle… it will take a minute, but it won’t feel so annoying once it does,” he explained. She felt weak, and lightheaded, and she fell back over his arm. He held her, letting her arch over him, and gently kissed her as he lay her back against the mattress.
“It…” she couldn’t explain it.
“I tried to warn you.”
“I know, I know,” she replied, nodding as tears that refused to stop.
“Let me distract you,” he breathed against her neck, then he moved down a little bit to her collarbone where he kissed, letting his mouth linger and moisten her skin. “Let me make it better,” he said huskily, kissing her a little lower; his mouth moving to her chest. “I’ll be tender to you now,” he explained. Then he whispered to her in French, pouring his love, and heart out to her. “I’ll be so… so tender,” he growled, pressing into her.
She silently cried, as she listened to his confessions for her and ran her fingers down his back, and up into his hair, where she urged him closer to her.
She tried, but she couldn’t focus, her mind kept wandering to Austin, again. She felt that Vincent sensed it, but he satisfied her anyways.
When they were done, she rested against him. He was right, the tingling, pain, and strange sensations had calmed a little, they were much more manageable now; she had a moment or two where she forgot it was even going on. This gave her hope. Maybe she’d be fine.
She dressed, and sat up, “Lunch?”
He nodded, desiring her cooking. “But first,” he said, and he pulled her off the bed to standing. “I want to explain this,” he said. “The guns are in your DNA now, but they are also coded to me. This means that whenever I’m near- they’ll shimmer,” he explained, pointing. She looked down and watched, it was like a wave of dim silvery light rolled over the back of her arm, and she smiled. “But also, all of this is coded to very specific movements so that you don’t accidentally pull a gun out. I took an extra few steps with some of mine-”
She cut him off, “the cards.”
He nodded. “Yours are like this,” he stood in front of her, and smiled, “are you ready to see them?” She nodded, excitedly, and beaming. He pinched her chin, “You’re so beautiful, Masin… so childlike.” He leaned in and kissed her mouth. Then pulled back with an adoring sigh. “Okay, you go like this,” he put his right hand in a fist across his chest, she did the same. “Then this,” then his left hand, so they were both making X shapes across their fronts. “This movement sets your body up. This X tells the invisible machinery that there’s a next part, and it prepares to obey you,” he said. She bit her lip, waiting. “Then this,” he forced his hands, fingers parted, straight down at his sides.
She did the motion, and she could feel the nanomachines working as something began to come through her skin. It was instantaneous. She gripped her fingers around something, aware that she was now holding two distinct pistols.
Amazed, she lifted them in her hands, and her green eyes welled as she looked them over. Bright, shining silver like a polished blade, they twinkled and danced like glitter. There was diamond cut wedges down the barrel and along the back of the grip on both, and on the grip panel, she saw a word in Vincent’s handwriting- GALL. These were more than weapons, they were jewels, and they were perfect.
She looked up into his adoring brown eyes. “These are the most beautiful guns I’ve ever seen,” she breathed, feeling her heart skip with joy.
“For the most beautiful woman,” he replied with a soft smile on the corner of his mouth as he cupped her cheek. “Each has eight bullets, my love. I know you’ll want to try them later,” he explained, hinting at the training room. She nodded. “But first,” he sighed and looked off, sadly. “We have a funeral.” He shook his head. “I’ll light the fireplace, you make lunch, we’ll eat, and I’ll hold you for a while.” She nodded, wiping away tears of joy. Then he stood back a bit, and made another gesture, “like this,” he whispered. And he flicked all ten fingers upwards towards the ceiling, straight. She did it, and the guns went back into her body. She could feel them again as tiny parts.
***
It was October, and the sun had started to go down earlier.
The procession that walked towards the back of the courtyard at Valorant headquarters was wreathed in a brilliant gold, pink, and orange for a few moments as the bright circle dipped behind the wavy California mountains. It created a cool gray as it plinked into the horizon for the evening.
Vincent, Jamie, Mateo, Kiritani, John, and Erik all carried the simple wooden coffin that held Sasha toward the front of two rows of white chairs.
Marielle; her arm interlocked with Wei Ling, Han, and Kirra all walked together. Wei Ling – who was trudging slowly – with her head down as she tried to hide silent tears.
To everyone’s surprise – except for Liam and Sabine who knew they’d flown in – a masked Amir stood at the back; along with Varun, Zyanya, and Hazal had come home, too.
Marielle expected it, but the fact that they were all there warmed her heart. Sasha was so well loved, and this very thought brought another wave of tears to her eyes.
Amir flashed Marielle a look, and gave her a small nod from underneath his wide brimmed, white hat.
She returned the gesture. “It’s great to see you,” she mouthed.
He came to her side, briefly. “You and Kirra are the only people who have ever actually seen me, Marielle,” he whispered, with a small side hug. She grinned briefly as he momentarily held her. He smelled like a spice of some kind. She couldn’t identify it, and her eyes watched him as he moved along down the line and went to a seat. Marielle reimagined his face, and he was alive, and smiling at her.
Then she glanced around instantly wondering where he’d hidden his cameras – it was Amir, after all – but she knew that she’d never find them. That’s what he was good at.
Austin followed the party feeling like there was no situation imaginable where he belonged in this procession, or with these people, and when he sat and watched the pallbearers settle Sasha’s body onto the stand at the front, he felt a pang of guilt at remembering that not two days earlier, he had envied the man in death. He no longer envied him, but he still wasn’t the same and knew that he wouldn’t feel normal for a long time.
He glanced at Zyanya and cringed, remembering fighting her double in Italy, Reyna.
It brought a ripple of memories regarding Tundra. She’d obviously been with him intimately; she’d shown him the bite mark that he’d given her, and he gagged when he caught her turning and looking at him with seductive, violet eyes. He turned away. He could see her asking Mateo something in Spanish.
-Not a chance.
-What? Marielle lifted her head.
-Reyna, one o’clock. He gestured with his head. -asking Mateo about me.
-Ew.
The pallbearers went back and retrieved a second wooden box that they also marched down the aisles. This one was a bit lighter; Tala.
There was a terrible silence as they brought her casket down the aisle; the sounds of sorrow had no name except for despair.
She was too young. She was too naïve. She had too much to do and too much that she hadn’t yet accomplished. –She was lost because of Vincent.
Austin narrowed his eyes at her. –What?
She shook her head; she hadn’t been trying to let that one slip. -Later.
Tala’s loss was unfair not just to Valorant; to the world. Tala’s father, Nathaniel had made an appearance, and he helped carry his daughter’s casket with a tear-soaked face that remained stolid each step of the way.
After Chamber had brought the other Tala to Valorant, they’d taken her to a specific room on the guest room floor, and basically told her not to go anywhere for a day or two. That they’d bring her food, water, books, and anything else that she might want, but their top priority was to keep her safe. They also told her that they needed to bury the other Tala, and that they’d talk to her after the funerals.
The other Tala was there now, watching from above. No one could see her, but they knew that she was there.
It was uncanny.
Marielle glanced at Mateo, noting how he must feel in these moments. He had been told, but hadn’t been introduced yet.
Chamber – who had no personal connection to Sova – had been asked to stand outside her room and guard her.
Austin glanced over at Marielle and gave her a weak smile. -I’m here in whatever way you need me to be, darling. I love you. She acknowledged, wiping away a tear and leaned onto Wei Ling’s shoulder. Vincent was on her right, and he gripped Marielle’s arm. Whether it was possessively, or in a state of raw emotion, Austin didn’t know, but it was clear that Vincent was hiding tears.
Neither Austin nor Marielle would have recalled much about the ceremony that took place if they were asked later. What both would clearly remember was that Efia was there, and that she, in Sasha’s honor, shot a flaming arrow through a hoop, lighting it bright orange and gold against the dark purple sky and representing his eternal flame, and his eternal presence in each of their hearts and minds.
Marielle was also aware of everyone speaking one at a time about Sasha, his love for life, the cold, and photography.
Liam closed their words with his own. “He believed in all of you,” Liam said, his fist at his chest as he bit back tears, “like he believed in himself.” John held Sabine close at those words. Tayane did the same with Klara. Amir wandered off, alone behind them all, with his hands crossed at the wrist behind his back.
They had opened the casket, and as the funeral ended, each of them went to him to say goodbye, and each took from a pile of owl feathers, putting one into his casket for safe keeping. They passed by Tala as well, but it felt awkward, and almost disingenuous as they all glanced up at the windows where they knew the other Tala was probably watching.
Sasha was pale but still handsome, his arms crossed over his chest holding his bow and quiver for safe travels to the afterlife, where Marielle assumed he was already stalking prey in wintery peace for eternity.
Forcing a smile, Efia turned to Marielle. “He looks good, doesn’t he?” She asked weakly.
Marielle nodded. “He’s so beautiful,” she sobbed, but she also smiled at him briefly reaching in to feel a bit of his blonde hair between her finger and thumb. She’d never touched it before; had never dared to ask, and now she only wanted to touch him one last time.
She placed her owl feather under the crook of his right elbow and gave him one last smile as she cupped his cheek. “Rest well, hunter,” Marielle whispered. “Thank you,” she added, feeling the weight of his death. He’d died while trying to save her with the others.
Then she moved on.
No one could bear to watch Wei Ling sob over him for a moment before she also moved on to Tala.
Everyone else did the same, and more hearts broke and eyes flooded with tears when they all spotted a little elderly lady shakily stand from one of the back chairs with a cane for sturdiness. In a pink dress and hat, she made her way – head held high – down the aisle, refusing anyone’s help in the process.
When she reached Sasha, she bent at the open casket, whispered some things in Russian, and kissed his cheek. No one knew what she said, but Marielle – because of her time spent with Sasha in the past – recognized the words, “grandmother” (babushka) and “grandson” (vnuk).
This woman, who refused to speak to anyone as she turned and walked back down the aisle, disappeared off the premises and left a deep impression on all of them as they went to Tala.
They didn’t open her casket; it’d been agreed beforehand that this was too weird for all of them, considering her double now at Valorant.
A few more words were spoken before they closed Sasha away again, and lowered them both into the dirt, where each of them dropped handfuls of soil into their open graves.
Vincent, Erik, and Liam all finished with shovels, patting the dirt down at the end in front of a headstone that read, “Alexander Sasha Novikov.” Followed by both his birth and death dates. Under this it said, “The hunter.”
Tala’s father, a rail of a man with a crinkled face, twisting a hat between his rugged hands, stood alone at Tala’s grave, and asked everyone not to bother him. He was obviously processing the loss of his only daughter, and what he’d learned regarding her double. Everyone could see him glance up at the rooms above. They let him be.
Most of them stood around Sasha’s tombstone for a long while in silence, or whispering and sharing about him.
Kirra stood near Marielle, looking at the white semi-circle over the dark soil. “Did you know that his name was Alexander?” Kirra whispered.
Marielle nodded. “Yeah.” she whispered tearfully. “Actually, I did.”
She turned to see Vincent, who was waving her over.
Austin traded spots with Marielle after she’d walked away, and sighed heavily.
Kirra could see his hand shaking. “Can you ever look at me, again?” he whispered.
Kirra sighed, and glanced down before turning to him and looking into his handsome face. His gaze found hers. “I think that you should know something,” she said with a strong nod. “Maybe similar to Marielle, I don’t see you as Tundra… I mean, you’re the same physicality, the same height, same DNA, same body type, right?”
“Yeah. I tested our DNA… exact match.”
“Yeah, I saw and yet, I feel like even though we’re not super close, I can say with some strong certainty that whoever he was… that’s not you.”
He swallowed and looked down, a bit abashedly. “So, you don’t think that I’m a serial killer?” He paused for a moment, wondering if she knew anything else. “You didn’t open the wallet, did you?”
She drew her eyebrows in and narrowed her eyes, then screwed them up for a moment as if realizing that she’d forgotten all about it. “No.”
“Thank God,” he whispered.
“It doesn’t matter,” she replied, quickly. He swallowed hard with his hand on his chin as he turned to Sasha’s grave, paying respect for a quiet moment. “You took it.” He nodded. “I won’t ask, and I won’t tell,” she said.
“Thank you,” he whispered, glancing around to be sure that no one was listening as a breeze stirred her lovely red hair and caught his eye, briefly.
“We burned him, you know. There isn’t anything left,” she explained. He stared into nothing, unsure of how to process that, either. There was nothing left of him? Of Tundra? It was all surreal.
They were both silent for a few moments, together as they stared down at Sasha’s grave. She smirked on the left side of her mouth and lightly cleared her throat. He glanced at her, questioning with his icy gaze. “I will say one thing, take it as you will,” she began. There was an awkward pause before she leaned in a bit towards his chest, “lucky girl,” she whispered, nodding at Marielle before she walked away a shade redder.
He narrowed his eyes for a moment, then it hit him and he shook his head as color filled his pale cheeks. He pinched the bridge of his nose, turning away from Sasha’s grave; inappropriate at this exact moment, but maybe I needed the levity.
Marielle was with Vincent, but Austin approached anyway.
She pulled away to go to Austin, and she took his hands in hers. “Thank you for coming.”
Vincent nodded at him as if agreeing with her. “You’re welcome. I didn’t know him well, but I did care about him,” he explained, pulling his hands back away from her. He noted the shimmer on the back of her arms.
-You have your guns.
-I do. Do you want to see them?
He nodded, and Vincent glowered at them, his jaw tensing, knowing that they were communicating.
“Will both of you come with me to the training room? I want to do this safely,” she explained.
The men exchanged glances and Vincent gestured for the two of them to go before him.
They departed the sad scene, and descended into the lower parts of Valorant, to the biggest training room.
All three of them entered; Vincent and Austin stood about ten feet back, watching her draw the weapons from her body.
Austin shook his head and with a sigh, grinning at her. -You’re beautiful.
-Shhhh, just talk to me.
“Wow,” Austin said, approaching her.
Vincent was smiling, proudly as he admired his work. “My mark, on you forever,” he whispered.
Austin pretended not to hear and he approached, and reached a hand out, asking to examine the weapons. -Don’t worry, I’ll be careful.
Smiling, she held both out to him, and he looked them over, testing the sights, and aiming the one that he hadn’t given back to her. He shook his head, amazed. “They’re astonishing, Vincent. Masterpieces.” He said, flicking his eyes to Vincent briefly. Vincent cleared his throat, straightened his spine, and bowed over his arm.
Austin looked to Marielle. -And now you really understand, don’t you?
She glanced down, taking the other pistol back. -Yeah, I do. It’s hard.
“I have to go home,” Austin explained after a beat, where he looked at her compassionately, and threw a brief glance back at Vincent, upset that he’d done this to Marielle; but accepting it as she’d obviously wanted this. “I have a lot of information coming in to me that I need to go over. I can’t talk about any of it,” he added.
“Have a good night,” she said, flatly and repressing the desperate urge to go into his arms. -You know that I can’t give you more than that right now.
-I know…I’ll just think about that kiss from earlier to keep me going.
She smiled at him softly, knowingly, and he left them, bumping into Chamber in the hall on the second floor; he looked like he was headed to the kitchen. At first, they passed one another with a nod, but Austin stopped and turned back to him. “Vincent?” he asked. Chamber paused, and turned back to him. He approached him, and put an arm around Chamber’s shoulder, “I need a friend,” he said quietly. “Are you available?”
Chamber straightened his back and looked at him with an odd expression, like he didn’t understand. He’d just traded with Wei Ling, who’d gone into Tala’s room. Before he walked away, he heard Wei Ling ask if she was alright. “Generally speaking, aren’t you supposed to be keeping an eye on me?”
Austin smiled. “Well, no better way to do that than to have you right at my side.”
The Frenchman stroked his chin for a moment feigning a sigh. “True, true…”
“But you know that thing that I’m not supposed to see you do? I don’t know how we’re going to get around that,” Austin said with an exaggerated sigh.
Chamber tilted his head back a little. “Austin, let’s make a deal,” Chamber began. “If you see me doing that thing… turn around.”
Austin chuckled, silently. “Drink? I’m buying.”
Chamber was eager. They’d already shared dozens of drinks together anyway from across the room. They’d bought several for one another over the years and had them sent over. “I think it is time we have one together, yes.” Chamber replied. Austin let him go and gently slapped his forearm as the two walked together. “I mean… like, actually together, you know? I mean, not together, but you know, side by side.”
Austin snickered, getting the impression that Vincent was trying to lead away any ideas of romance; which were the furthest thing from Austin’s mind. “I understand what you meant, Vincent.”
Marielle stopped hearing his general thoughts shortly thereafter. Strange emotions moved through her knowing that he was going for a beer with Chamber.
She turned to Vincent, and tapped his chest with her fingers, “Vincent… I want to be alone for a while in here. I’m not like meeting Austin or something, he’s left,” she assured. “I just want some time to think and get familiar with my guns, and really consider some things.”
Vincent sighed, and removed his glasses for a moment, cleaning something from the front, then replacing them, “I have something to tell you,” he whispered. She narrowed her eyes at him, waiting for the bomb. “I have to leave the country,” he explained.
Then her eyes grew wide. “When?”
“Now.”
She glared at him, darkly. “You’re kidding,” she growled.
“No… Chamber and I have to catch a plane in about four hours,” he replied.
“You two are traipsing off together to go kill someone?”
He nodded, silently.
She whirled and began stomping away. “Masin,” he said with a heavy sigh. She continued. “Masin,” he begged tenderly, following on her heels. Then he stopped, standing still. “Marielle,” he commanded. She stopped, and turned to him, shooting needles, daggers, an entire medieval arsenal and the blacksmith at him with her green eyes. Inwardly, she had to admit that one of the other things that she loved about Vincent was his ability to command her. He wasn’t pushy, but he didn’t need to be. If Vincent commanded, she listened. “I have to go. We help each other; that’s what we do.”
She crossed her arms tightly over her chest. “Until when? Are you ever going to stop?” She asked.
He stood strong and tall, and put his hands into his pockets. “No.”
“It’s just who you are,” she said, tersely as she briefly narrowed her eyes at him.
He looked down for a moment, raising both shoulders around his neck. “It is,” he admitted. “It’s just what I’ve always done.”
“And yet… you want to take me to a little cottage and try and escape that life, or would you be running off every two weeks to frolic through murder valley with… yourself?”
Vincent approached her, his shoulders square and strong, “I don’t like your tone.”
“Oh, you don’t like my tone,” she hissed. Then she rolled her eyes, and turned from him. He grabbed her wrist and pulled her against him. “As I was saying, I don’t like your tone, and I don’t have time to give you the deeply passionate love making session that would occur after such a spat,” he growled, hotly. “So, I guess you’ll just have to wait, if you want me.”
She rolled her eyes again, this time more exaggeratedly, and turned from him, pushing him back from her. “How long will you be gone?” She growled, moving toward the center of the large room.
“At least Monday.”
She jerked to a stop. “Monday? It’s Wednesday, Vincent,” she hissed. He nodded, understanding her frustration. “Well, where are you going?” She sighed.
“Cambodia,” he replied, crossing his arms over his chest.
“Perfect,” she said with another eyeroll, and turning away, again.
He came after her for a second time, “Marielle, please try to understand.”
She waved him off, “Oh no, no. I understand.” A thought occurred to her, then. He’d never once asked to take her with him. That hurt. She paused, for a moment, thinking. “What about Cory?”
“Cory is in my home world, I believe.”
“How do you know?”
“It was something that Tala had said. He planned to spend the next few weeks there trying to plan his next moves. I don’t have to tell you that he’s utterly enraged, now. Afterall, he meant to take you after Kingdom was done with you… and then you killed his best friend.” Her eyes widened as she looked down, realizing that he was right. What would Cory do to her now? He came to her again, “We have to begin planning when I get back. If we’re going there to take out Valorant, that is- and I believe that Liam agreed that this was the next step.”
She steeled herself, agreeing. They’d killed Tundra, one down, one and his lunatic sister to go. “I apologize for my disrespect, but I’m not happy about this,” she explained.
He agreed and came to her again, “Will you kiss me?”
She did, and said goodbye to him before he straightened his tie, and left for the upstairs first, then to her apartment to pack up.
She watched her arms as they stopped shimmering once he was gone; just pretty silver again.
Alone in the room, she asked it to give her wooden bullseye targets, not robots and she spent some time getting used to the mechanics of her guns, deploying and recalling them until her arms ached. Vincent had given her reloads for her pistols and showed her how to inject them earlier in the day before they’d come back to Valorant.
Several floating rectangles dotted the air around her and floated, waiting for her to open fire.
As she aimed, fired, and destroyed dot after dot, wood after wood, again she thought, deeply.
Pausing, she went over the beginning of the day in her mind. “Okay,” she whispered, looking around as if someone could hear. There was no one.
They were all having a late lunch as they celebrated the life and death of Sasha and Tala. She wanted to mourn him with them, but her need to think and to be alone overshadowed that desire.
She closed her eyes and breathed deeply, “okay,” she repeated. Then she trembled, preparing to say the next words. “I’m in love with Austin Michael Rancor.” She lifted her pistol in her right hand and fired, striking another target; she hit it so directly that it shattered. The broken wood fell away, and the bar that held it got sucked back up into the ceiling. “I’m not just in love with him… I’m desperately in love with him. It’s not just love… it’s total trust. I trust him in so many different ways- to love me,” BANG “to protect me,” POP POP “to be honest with me,” BANG “to treat me like an equal.” She swallowed, hating that one. She despised that she often didn’t feel like Vincent treated her as an equal; but as something fragile that needed protecting. He never asked her to accompany him on his excursions with Chamber – was he afraid that Chamber would try and steal her? – and she practically had to force him to give her the guns that she was now using to train. She loved them… she loved Vincent… she hated every moment of this. She paused. “But I can’t let Austin Rancor hurt me…” BOOM, another demolished target. “And this is how I know it’s real. Because if he hurts me, then I will be utterly destroyed.” She fired again. Target demolished. “It might be trauma bonding, but I know that I was falling in love with him a long time ago.” She said all this softly so as not to echo as she whirled and shot another target. POP, and it was gone. “I think that I truly knew it early on, but I brushed it aside because I thought it would never work.” She rubbed her sinuses and scoffed at herself, “and because I was so totally in love with and enamored by Vincent that I was desperate for his attention and not Austin’s so much.” She growled and reloaded her arm, discarding the vial. “I don’t believe that it’ll work with Austin now, and now he’s fighting this idea that he might turn into a…” she put her hands behind her head and wandered aimlessly for a moment, lengthening her back as she let out a low growl. She couldn’t go there. “This is sick… is…” she cocked her head, not sure that she agreed with herself, “is this sick?” she wondered. “Why is it sick?”
“It’s not,” a soft, familiar voice from behind. She turned to him. He wasn’t really there, and she knew that he wasn’t, partly because she knew that he’d left with Chamber; she could just barely hear his thoughts as they went further and further away. Partly because he was appearing to her as he had a few weeks ago; different clothes, hair again. “It’s not sick.” He stood in front of her, hands in his pockets, looking like the men’s clothing model that she felt was always bursting out of every pore. “It’s confusing, though. I get that.”
She swallowed, hard and looked down between them, wishing that he were really there. “I wanted to talk to you more before you left.”
“You’ll see me tomorrow, darling.”
She nodded and looked down again. “I don’t know where to go from here.”
He pulled his own pearlized white pistol from his right arm, and she was always amazed to watch as that snake curled down the length of it as if it was really crawling. They stood back-to-back, and began to take out multiple targets together, not missing one until the round ended with splintered wood and them panting together. “We work so well together,” he noted.
“I know. It’s one of the reasons that I’m in love with you.”
He took a step toward her. “What are some of the others?” He asked.
She smiled, and looked up into his blue eyes. “You make me laugh.”
He grinned. “I always want to make you laugh.”
“I have fun with you, every moment feels…”
“Like an adventure?”
She nodded, biting her bottom lip as she tried to hide a smile. “Call me shallow… you’re gorgeous.”
“I’m never as handsome as you are beautiful,” he replied with a smirk as he gently brushed some hair behind her ear. He leaned in, gently rubbing the tip of his nose against hers. “What is it?”
She felt her bottom lip tremble. “I just cannot let you hurt me.”
“Can I address something that both of us, and Vincent keep dancing around a little bit?” He asked cupping her cheek. She nodded, apprehensively. He swallowed, taking a moment. “Vincent keeps saying that you are his wife… but you’re not. And Marielle, this is the part that I want to address- you never were, not in this dimension but,” he looked off, incredulously for a moment, “not in any dimension. He said- when he went to look for you, you were always married to me. Marielle, you’re not his wife,” there was a pregnant pause, “you’re mine.” She backed away, slowly as tears rimmed her eyes, “You’re always mine,” he smiled, softly. “In almost all worlds you are Marielle Rancor.”
“What about the world with Chamber?” She reminded. She pulled her guns back up into her arms.
He shrugged, taking an eyebrow with it, “Maybe I’m dead.”
She looked down, nodding. That made sense. He closed the gap between them, and took gentle hold of both sides of her face, “you’re my wife,” he repeated. Then he gently put his hands on the sides of her face again. “Now imagine our life together. Let yourself imagine it,” he commanded. “Close your eyes,” he whispered. She did so, knowing that she looked foolish to anyone who might come in. “Imagine us off in the world, China, Rome, Greece, Germany, Switzerland, Chile, Haiti, France, where ever I go, you’re there with me, and we’re not just in love, we’re together in all things.” Her face was scrunched up, tightly as her very soul opened up, realizing how very badly she wanted that life, and always had. He’d said so himself shortly after they’d met. She wanted the adventure, the romance, the danger, the fight. She wanted it all.
“Stop,” she whispered. “I- I can’t…” she shook her head. “I chose Vincent.”
“Now choose me.” She shook her head; this still wasn’t right. She wanted him, she knew that now. She loved him, she knew that now, too. But somehow, she knew in her spirit that he was still not ready for these decisions and they were going to break her, and maybe him as well if done poorly or the wrong way.
She had to figure it out, but the emotional weight was killing her, her stomach twisted and she felt bile begin to threaten her. “And I can tell you how to make sure that I don’t end up messed up in this. I can tell you how to make sure that I stay on track, and focused- how I don’t become Tundra… Do you want to know how, darling?” He combed some of her hair back.
She shook her head, “Not now. Not…” She squeezed her eyes shut and waved him away, and his visage vanished. “This is too much,” she cried.
“You might regret not listening now, darling,” his haunting voice whispered.
She dragged herself to the corner of the room, slid down the wall, drew her knees up, and sobbed into them. “I love both of you,” she whispered. It sounded like nails on a chalkboard that echoed in the empty space.