[She can't stay upright anymore. She's on her side, curled up on the floor. The cold cuts her down to the bone. Violent shivers wrack her small frame as she fights for every breath. The urge to vomit rises harder and stronger now, but she wants -- needs -- to keep it down. Her words come out as a harsh rasp, rambling and desperate and rough and occasionally punctuated with a gasp for air. There's a part of her that's half out of its mind from the pain and hunger and doesn't quite know what she's saying, only that she just needs to say it.]
I'm sorry I fucked up your universe and I'm sorry I killed you and I'm sorry everyone's dead or dying or on their way there and you can't do anything about it and I'm sorry about that one time I ate your refrigerator magnets, I never told you and I think you might have blamed Vriska for stealing them but that was totally me, and most of all I'm sorry I never told you how much you mean to me without couching it in dumb word games or ironic displays of affection. It's a lot, by the way, in case you were wondering. You mean a lot to me and I'm so sorry you have to watch this.
[She can't hold back the coughing anymore. She starts again, harder and wetter than before.]
[ She's holding it down better than any of the others were able to, and Dave doesn't even bother trying to hide that little tiny glimmer of hope. Worst case, hey, it's crushed ruthlessly. What can you do? It's better than the alternative. He doesn't move from his position, squeezing her hand tightly before responding. ]
I'm cool with all that. Kind of figured you ate them, anyway - what kind of retard buys rainbow magnets and doesn't expect an alien to eat them all?
[ A weak, hollow little laugh. Being cool's tough when it's this cold, when one of the only people you really have left right now is fading away in front of you.
so why bother?
let the sick fires die out. it's not like he's got anything left to lose. ]
You did the same thing for me back when I died.
[ he reaches forward, combing her hair out of her face (if she's retching, he doesn't want her to get her hair all messed up. it's a stupid worry, but it's the best way of keeping her clean he can think of) and speaking as softly as he can. his eyes are raw and scared. ]
Have I ever told you how much I pity you? Flat up, I mean. No bullshit or irony.
[She wants to argue with him -- no, it's not the same -- but she can't find the words. Her voice was shot straight to hell after that miniature speech of hers; she can taste blood in her mouth and running wetly down her throat, along with the bile and everything else she's thrown up (throwing up) that burns her raw.
Dave is brushing the hair out of her face with that look on his face and for some reason it's that simple gesture that finally breaks the dam. Teal leaks from her ruined eyes and down her cheeks and she is sure this is the worst combo ever: cold and crying while coughing and retching up her guts.
She tries to think. Has he ever told her? Surely there's been some moment when they've been honest with each other, but she can't remember right now.
But even if she's already heard it before, she wouldn't mind hearing it again right now.]
[ fuck everything, she's crying. he's pretty sure he'd be crying too, if his tear ducts really worked anymore. so instead, he just sits there, holding the hair out of her eyes as she pukes up muted little greys he'd really rather never see again. his free hand goes up to the back of her head, stroking and petting and generally doing everything in his power to make this ordeal a little less awful.
after a few moments of silence: ]
...fuck, I don't even really know how to say it. [ he scratches lightly at the back of her neck, thankful for a brief moment that he can't smell whatever it is she's purging from her body, and tries to go on. ] It's like - I'm cool with being undead as long you're around, because it means I get to see you. Fuck if that doesn't sound dumb as all hell, but it's true. Your dumbass pointy grin is what keeps me going all day long.
[ a pause for a breath, and he just charges on- ]
And all night, too. Honestly? Thought I was going to go apeshit for the first seven days without sleep. Watching you sleep made it a little better. Any Trollight references and the hands are leaving.
[ the turntop helped, too. hell yes, 24/7 internet. ]
...it's fucked up, and I know that, but all I can think about right now is how scared I am of losing you and how much I want to pull you back up once this is all over. I pity you so fucking much it's not even funny. Pity comes out, pity comes in. Irony can't explain that.
[ it's a little easier, like this, when he doesn't have to call it love. when it's just "pity," he can say a little bit of it, at least. ]
[Her whole world shrinks down to the overwhelming need to get it out get it out get it out and Dave's comforting hands at her back, but she clings to his words (I pity you, too) and she holds on.
She holds on.
She rides it out for as long as she can, clawing for air and purging herself of everything black and dead inside her, and just when she think she can't take it anymore and just wants this to stop
it does.
it's over and done and the sudden whiplash reverse confuses her
is she even supposed to be aware of the end?
the pain fades like she vomited it up with everything else that was inside her -- she feels empty, empty, empty, cut open and hollowed out she lies for a few blessed minutes, silent and unmoving, just appreciating how good it feels to not hurt anymore it couldn't have been more than a few minutes from start to finish, but it feels like she's run a marathon for hours
after a while she shakily pushes herself away from the mess she made on the floor (she didn't even know she had those colors inside her, god that's so gross) and wipes the sick from her mouth and then her hands on the thighs of her pants she takes her glasses off so she can wipe away the tears from her eyes]
I think--
[her voice is still rough and haggard, thick with blood and everything coating her throat she coughs one last time with a deep, phlegmy rumble, trying to clear herself out something grates and tears deeper but she just hocks and spits to the side the taste doesn't completely go away and all the grey is tinted by the faint hints of rust and decay, but it's better than nothing]
[ he doesn't move, doesn't breathe or exhale or anything for those awful minutes. it's only when it's all over with, when she's puked out everything left in her and when all her life is gone, when she's just another patch of muted greys and greenish-blue and red in his vision, that he draws his hand back.
he waits for some sign of intelligence for agonizing second after agonizing second, some sign of sentience on her end, and when she shows it it's all he can do to not kiss her right there and then. (yhat should wait until she's all- taken care of, drained and dried and dissected properly.) he doesn't have to decaptchalogue his sword. he doesn't have to burn another body. she's still here.
if he were an overly sentimental goob, this is the part where he'd think to himself, it's not much, but it's everything he could ask for. but it is something big, is the thing. she's still here. she's not trying to open up john's skull, and even though she's still coughing up some of the remnants she's talking to him, and- and-
he leans in, wrapping his arms as tightly as he can around her, and just holds her for a few seconds. finally, in a shakier voice than he'd ever like to have admitted- ]
Girl, if it led to improv like this, I'd sponsor you out of my own goddamn pocket.
[this doesn't make any sense. she's watched too many people change to know this isn't how it's supposed to go. why is she still thinking and feeling when so many others lost their minds?
she holds him close, hiding her face against his shoulder. she's still shaking, cold and a little freaked out and scared. she just died. she wasn't like vriska -- she couldn't face her own death, couldn't hit god tier, couldn't even ask someone to put her down before she turned and went feral.
not that she's complaining about that last bit now.]
You sure? I cannot be tamed, coolkid. Shit's gonna get expensive after a while, the way I go off the rails.
[ he wouldn't be able to answer that, terezi. but he's sure as hell not complaining. as fucked up as everything is, this is the closest thing to a happy ending he'd be able to find. ]
Well, fuck, you throw anything too whacko out and I'll just set up an apology tour or something. People love seeing psychos on the air.
[ he pulls back, kissing her (and he's shaking a little as he does so, he's so freaked out and relieved and happy) on the forehead, and when he pulls back he manages- ]
We should- get you to the medbay. Pretty sure the bots are still up.
[ A look around the floor. ]
...should probably quarantine this place off while we're at it.
You'll just take care of it? Well, shit. You're practically giving me permission to get my hellmurder gallows humor act on around the wrigglers. Who cares if they're traumatized for life after my special guest star appearance on The Adventures of Squiddles and Friends? Apology tour!
[she's still not entirely comfortable with the idea of going to the medbay, even months after zone 07 and the last time she took dave there. there's a part of her that wants to ask why harley just can't get her taxidermy on, but she knows those stupid robots who give them far too much body language sass is her best bet.
she wants to kiss back, but her mouth still feels too gross, so she settles for continuing to be the recipient for all this attention. she lets go and staggers to her feet, and when she takes a sniff around the room, she makes a face.]
Shit, Terezi, do you think I give a flying fuck if you're messy right now?
[ she doesn't have that glow anymore, she's not as colorful or wonderfully full-bodied and meaty, but - but all that's okay. she's still here. every other problem pales in comparison. ]
Come on. Let's get out of this place. [ An awkward pause, and in the worst attempt at casual reassurance- ] Going outside's not really a problem anymore, just fyi.
she was dying, she couldn't help it, but it's still really disgusting, smelling the contents of her stomach upended all over the floor like that.
his attempt at reassurance is not reassuring, and somehow that simple little statement makes everything hit home harder somehow. she doesn't have to worry about being eaten anymore or leading the zombies back to the apartment when she goes out or a hundred other little fears she's adjusted into her everyday life. they don't care about her anymore, because now she's like them.
making their way through the house is nerve wracking in a way she never thought possible. she doesn't want to run into anyone; it's completely irrational, but she almost feels convinced they'll see it on her somehow, in the unsteadiness of her gait and how hard she holds on to Dave and leans on her cane, in whatever mess still covers her, in the way she'll sniff at the warmth and life and meat in them. ]
[ john is watching television, he can see his life bleeding through the walls, and jade is upstairs at the window, and that means that there's nobody around to watch them abscond. dave unlocks the deadbolt, slipping out with terezi still held close, and as the door automatically locks behind him he has the decency to call up to the sniper: ]
Supply run, chica. Be back later.
[ and with that, he ducks into the back alleyways. the sense of a decaying world only intensifies back there - a body here, bloodstains there, and when they pass their first mindless one dave holds terezi tight to him. it passes by them without a trace of interest.
this is the world they live in now.
doors, zombies, humans - not a single thing acknowledges their existence until they reach the medbay. ]
[she's uncharacteristically silent as they ghost their way to the hospital, fingers interlaced with his and squeezing tight. sacrosanct had always been a quiet, dead thing, too few people spread out over too many zones, but it had never really been a literal description until now.
what was taking hypatia so long? terezi had long since given up on expecting any help from her even before all this began (the ai didn't care for them, that much was certain, and if anything she was probably busy studying the affects of the virus, too absorbed in her work to notice what was happening to them), but usually she would at least show up after a while with some condescending remark or pithy little comment. but she'd been as silent as the grave her station became.
they end up having to push the doors open to the medbay. whether the motion sensitivity got locked down as a safety precaution or they just don't respond to nonliving non personnel, she doesn't know. but as she alerts the staff of their presence she hopes they're not going to have any trouble again, now that both of them don't register on the robots' scanners. the last time was dumb as hell and she would rather not have a repeat performance.]
[ her hand in his is the only reason he knows she's there. without her lifeblood lighting up the station, it's bizarre - he can tell where things are, he can see the shapes that make each little thing, but it's all just- formless. grey. a nameless, useless mass.
little tiny flares of gold flash through his vision - still living people in the zone? yes, that has to be it - and dave ignores them. right now, terezi needs to be preserved.
as they walk into the medbay, terezi clears her throat and waves, and after a few moments a rather jaded bot rolls its way over. dave knows without even looking it's the same one, because fuck you, the universe hates us both obviously. he points to terezi, and dave swears to god the bot rolls its nonexistent eyes at this point.
still, after a pithy little remark on how unexpected a repeat post-mortem visit was, it rolls away to prepare the room. dave squeezes terezi's hand, not looking directly at her as he asks- ]
terezi knows she really shouldn't be as surprised as she is right now, but she makes a face anyway and rolls her own eyes at the thing's comment. not that anyone can tell, of course, but it's the thought that counts.
she takes a moment to consider dave's offer. it would be nice having someone there with her who knew what she would be going through and could talk her through it, but--]
I don't know, Dave. How okay are you with getting a face full of alien wing-wong?
[ he snorts, turning the slightest bit her way and waggling his eyebrows suggestively. it doesn't quite work - his eyes aren't the slightest bit playful, just tired and sad and a little bit relieved and tired- but it's a fair try. ]
Think you're making the assumption that I don't get trollwang up in my business on a regular basis. Fuck, you call this a faceful? I call it an average Tuesday.
[ he walks at her side, all the way to the indicated room, before stopping. awkwardly, haltingly- ]
...look, I'm not trying to score a free peek here or anything. Our mutual robro in there's going to be cutting you open - fuck if I want to see that, now or ever. Just...
[ he's looking everywhere but her, off to the side and down to the floor and even turning a bit away. finally, a helpless little shrug. ]
Your call. Swear I won't go for peeksies if you want me in there.
I'm sorry I fucked up your universe and I'm sorry I killed you and I'm sorry everyone's dead or dying or on their way there and you can't do anything about it and I'm sorry about that one time I ate your refrigerator magnets, I never told you and I think you might have blamed Vriska for stealing them but that was totally me, and most of all I'm sorry I never told you how much you mean to me without couching it in dumb word games or ironic displays of affection. It's a lot, by the way, in case you were wondering. You mean a lot to me and I'm so sorry you have to watch this.
[She can't hold back the coughing anymore. She starts again, harder and wetter than before.]
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I'm cool with all that. Kind of figured you ate them, anyway - what kind of retard buys rainbow magnets and doesn't expect an alien to eat them all?
[ A weak, hollow little laugh. Being cool's tough when it's this cold, when one of the only people you really have left right now is fading away in front of you.
so why bother?
let the sick fires die out. it's not like he's got anything left to lose. ]
You did the same thing for me back when I died.
[ he reaches forward, combing her hair out of her face (if she's retching, he doesn't want her to get her hair all messed up. it's a stupid worry, but it's the best way of keeping her clean he can think of) and speaking as softly as he can. his eyes are raw and scared. ]
Have I ever told you how much I pity you? Flat up, I mean. No bullshit or irony.
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Dave is brushing the hair out of her face with that look on his face and for some reason it's that simple gesture that finally breaks the dam. Teal leaks from her ruined eyes and down her cheeks and she is sure this is the worst combo ever: cold and crying while coughing and retching up her guts.
She tries to think. Has he ever told her? Surely there's been some moment when they've been honest with each other, but she can't remember right now.
But even if she's already heard it before, she wouldn't mind hearing it again right now.]
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after a few moments of silence: ]
...fuck, I don't even really know how to say it. [ he scratches lightly at the back of her neck, thankful for a brief moment that he can't smell whatever it is she's purging from her body, and tries to go on. ] It's like - I'm cool with being undead as long you're around, because it means I get to see you. Fuck if that doesn't sound dumb as all hell, but it's true. Your dumbass pointy grin is what keeps me going all day long.
[ a pause for a breath, and he just charges on- ]
And all night, too. Honestly? Thought I was going to go apeshit for the first seven days without sleep. Watching you sleep made it a little better. Any Trollight references and the hands are leaving.
[ the turntop helped, too. hell yes, 24/7 internet. ]
...it's fucked up, and I know that, but all I can think about right now is how scared I am of losing you and how much I want to pull you back up once this is all over. I pity you so fucking much it's not even funny. Pity comes out, pity comes in. Irony can't explain that.
[ it's a little easier, like this, when he doesn't have to call it love. when it's just "pity," he can say a little bit of it, at least. ]
Keep holding on, aight?
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and she holds on.
She holds on.
She rides it out for as long as she can, clawing for air and purging herself of everything black and dead inside her, and just when she think she can't take it anymore and just wants this to stop
it does.
it's over and done and the sudden whiplash reverse confuses her
is she even supposed to be aware of the end?
the pain fades like she vomited it up with everything else that was inside her -- she feels empty, empty, empty, cut open and hollowed out
she lies for a few blessed minutes, silent and unmoving, just appreciating how good it feels to not hurt anymore
it couldn't have been more than a few minutes from start to finish, but it feels like she's run a marathon for hours
after a while she shakily pushes herself away from the mess she made on the floor (she didn't even know she had those colors inside her, god that's so gross) and wipes the sick from her mouth and then her hands on the thighs of her pants
she takes her glasses off so she can wipe away the tears from her eyes]
I think--
[her voice is still rough and haggard, thick with blood and everything coating her throat
she coughs one last time with a deep, phlegmy rumble, trying to clear herself out
something grates and tears deeper but she just hocks and spits to the side
the taste doesn't completely go away and all the grey is tinted by the faint hints of rust and decay, but it's better than nothing]
I think I went off script somewhere.
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he waits for some sign of intelligence for agonizing second after agonizing second, some sign of sentience on her end, and when she shows it it's all he can do to not kiss her right there and then. (yhat should wait until she's all- taken care of, drained and dried and dissected properly.) he doesn't have to decaptchalogue his sword. he doesn't have to burn another body. she's still here.
if he were an overly sentimental goob, this is the part where he'd think to himself, it's not much, but it's everything he could ask for. but it is something big, is the thing. she's still here. she's not trying to open up john's skull, and even though she's still coughing up some of the remnants she's talking to him, and- and-
he leans in, wrapping his arms as tightly as he can around her, and just holds her for a few seconds. finally, in a shakier voice than he'd ever like to have admitted- ]
Girl, if it led to improv like this, I'd sponsor you out of my own goddamn pocket.
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she holds him close, hiding her face against his shoulder. she's still shaking, cold and a little freaked out and scared. she just died. she wasn't like vriska -- she couldn't face her own death, couldn't hit god tier, couldn't even ask someone to put her down before she turned and went feral.
not that she's complaining about that last bit now.]
You sure? I cannot be tamed, coolkid. Shit's gonna get expensive after a while, the way I go off the rails.
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Well, fuck, you throw anything too whacko out and I'll just set up an apology tour or something. People love seeing psychos on the air.
[ he pulls back, kissing her (and he's shaking a little as he does so, he's so freaked out and relieved and happy) on the forehead, and when he pulls back he manages- ]
We should- get you to the medbay. Pretty sure the bots are still up.
[ A look around the floor. ]
...should probably quarantine this place off while we're at it.
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[she's still not entirely comfortable with the idea of going to the medbay, even months after zone 07 and the last time she took dave there. there's a part of her that wants to ask why harley just can't get her taxidermy on, but she knows those stupid robots who give them far too much body language sass is her best bet.
she wants to kiss back, but her mouth still feels too gross, so she settles for continuing to be the recipient for all this attention. she lets go and staggers to her feet, and when she takes a sniff around the room, she makes a face.]
...Sorry about the mess.
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[ she doesn't have that glow anymore, she's not as colorful or wonderfully full-bodied and meaty, but - but all that's okay. she's still here. every other problem pales in comparison. ]
Come on. Let's get out of this place. [ An awkward pause, and in the worst attempt at casual reassurance- ] Going outside's not really a problem anymore, just fyi.
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[no she wasn't.
she was dying, she couldn't help it, but it's still really disgusting, smelling the contents of her stomach upended all over the floor like that.
his attempt at reassurance is not reassuring, and somehow that simple little statement makes everything hit home harder somehow. she doesn't have to worry about being eaten anymore or leading the zombies back to the apartment when she goes out or a hundred other little fears she's adjusted into her everyday life. they don't care about her anymore, because now she's like them.
making their way through the house is nerve wracking in a way she never thought possible. she doesn't want to run into anyone; it's completely irrational, but she almost feels convinced they'll see it on her somehow, in the unsteadiness of her gait and how hard she holds on to Dave and leans on her cane, in whatever mess still covers her, in the way she'll sniff at the warmth and life and meat in them. ]
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[ john is watching television, he can see his life bleeding through the walls, and jade is upstairs at the window, and that means that there's nobody around to watch them abscond. dave unlocks the deadbolt, slipping out with terezi still held close, and as the door automatically locks behind him he has the decency to call up to the sniper: ]
Supply run, chica. Be back later.
[ and with that, he ducks into the back alleyways. the sense of a decaying world only intensifies back there - a body here, bloodstains there, and when they pass their first mindless one dave holds terezi tight to him. it passes by them without a trace of interest.
this is the world they live in now.
doors, zombies, humans - not a single thing acknowledges their existence until they reach the medbay. ]
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what was taking hypatia so long? terezi had long since given up on expecting any help from her even before all this began (the ai didn't care for them, that much was certain, and if anything she was probably busy studying the affects of the virus, too absorbed in her work to notice what was happening to them), but usually she would at least show up after a while with some condescending remark or pithy little comment. but she'd been as silent as the grave her station became.
they end up having to push the doors open to the medbay. whether the motion sensitivity got locked down as a safety precaution or they just don't respond to nonliving non personnel, she doesn't know. but as she alerts the staff of their presence she hopes they're not going to have any trouble again, now that both of them don't register on the robots' scanners. the last time was dumb as hell and she would rather not have a repeat performance.]
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little tiny flares of gold flash through his vision - still living people in the zone? yes, that has to be it - and dave ignores them. right now, terezi needs to be preserved.
as they walk into the medbay, terezi clears her throat and waves, and after a few moments a rather jaded bot rolls its way over. dave knows without even looking it's the same one, because fuck you, the universe hates us both obviously. he points to terezi, and dave swears to god the bot rolls its nonexistent eyes at this point.
still, after a pithy little remark on how unexpected a repeat post-mortem visit was, it rolls away to prepare the room. dave squeezes terezi's hand, not looking directly at her as he asks- ]
Want me in there with you?
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that's the same fucking robot
terezi knows she really shouldn't be as surprised as she is right now, but she makes a face anyway and rolls her own eyes at the thing's comment. not that anyone can tell, of course, but it's the thought that counts.
she takes a moment to consider dave's offer. it would be nice having someone there with her who knew what she would be going through and could talk her through it, but--]
I don't know, Dave. How okay are you with getting a face full of alien wing-wong?
[please don't look dave she's gonna be naked]
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Think you're making the assumption that I don't get trollwang up in my business on a regular basis. Fuck, you call this a faceful? I call it an average Tuesday.
[ he walks at her side, all the way to the indicated room, before stopping. awkwardly, haltingly- ]
...look, I'm not trying to score a free peek here or anything. Our mutual robro in there's going to be cutting you open - fuck if I want to see that, now or ever. Just...
[ he's looking everywhere but her, off to the side and down to the floor and even turning a bit away. finally, a helpless little shrug. ]
Your call. Swear I won't go for peeksies if you want me in there.
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