Sup Jerusalem. Someone just died.
It had to happen.
It had to happen, and Chance wanted it to happen on some level, because it was fate. It was God's intention, and any good Christian would submit to that. But when the pain first started to twist inside her, all she thought for the first moment or two was that she wouldn't be able to finish reading her book.
Then she slid a bookmark between the pages, shut it, and set it down on the arm of the chair.
A bye and 'Remember to buy cheese' to Fate and Destiny had intended to go back into the living room and finish her newspaper. The house was quiet without Glory there, only Father Peter remaining of their many visitors over the past month. It almost felt like Glastonbury ten years ago again, with the obvious exception of their ages.
By the time she came back into the living room, though, there was a painful frown on Chance's face and Destiny's heart skipped a beat, ignoring Coincidence to observe the other woman. It didn't have to be... right?
Coincidence was turning the magazine upside down to look at the answers to the crossword he'd been doing when he noticed that something was off. He looked to Destiny, who'd entered wordessly, then to Chance, and realisation as to what the looks on their faces could possibly mean hit a few seconds later.
Then he thought he should say something, have them confirm whatever he'd concluded or deny it. But he wasn't one to break silences and the words didn't come, so he set the magazine down and rose slowly from where he was sitting.
"You should both leave," Chance said after a moment, and despite the fact that she valued direct speech she didn't want to say outright that she was about to die. It was only when she heard the radio in the kitchen go off and saw Father Peter appear in the other doorway that she leaned forward a little, drawing her knees up and folding her body in an attempt to relieve the growing cramps. It was almost a familiar kind of pain.
Leave? Like hell she was going to leave. Destiny knew it would come to this at some point, but she always figured there'd be a little more time, and now there wasn't. This was it. She glanced at Coincidence, a pained expression on her face, then at Father Peter, before rushing to Chance's side, kneeling beside her foster-sister and prying her hand away from her knees to hold it.
That was it, then. He hesitated and looked back at the Father, though he wasn't about to obey. He moved closer to the both of them, not knowing what to do but to be there and wondering just how long they had-- how long Chance had, before ... well, things got messy.
Chance thought at first that it might be better not to hold that hand; to cope on her own. But it hurt. It really, really hurt, and despite herself her fingers closed around Destiny's in return, and she let out a very quiet gasp. Through half-closed eyes she could see Father Peter, closer than before but not reaching out to touch her.
There was nothing to ask for that could make it better. Painkillers was a laugh, the fact that Fate wasn't here too was worse, and she could feel Father Peter at her back even if she didn't see him. Destiny reached out for Coincidence, extending a hand to get him to join them, swallowing.
He looked blankly at the hand for a moment, then knelt down at Chance's other side and tried not to think too hard about what to say, what to do, what it must be like. He found that it hurt a little to watch-- better, probably, than the nothing he was used to feeling.
It wasn't like anything she could really explain. Knowing how you would die was one thing. Knowing you were dying was another, and it all felt mostly unreal except for the fact that she could feel her insides starting to tear. She was glad most of her family was there, at least, even if at the same time she didn't want them to witness it.
Coming up with anything meaningful to serve as last words was really too much effort. She didn't even react much when Father Peter took her other hand; she didn't remember him getting that close.
She couldn't do anything. Destiny just stroked Chance's hair, cupping her cheek and smiling softly, a pained frown on her face. It was too soon. The entire apocalypse was just... too soon.$
Coincidence looked away from them, to an empty space on the wall so it was easier to think that it was nothing. And disgusting as it seemed to put it that way, he waited.
That was all the year had been, for her at least. Waiting and waiting. She couldn't help but want to wait a little longer, trying to say something comforting to the others, and failing to speak because she'd never been good with that kind of thing and it hurt. It seemed important, too, somehow, to say something to Father Peter. But maybe it didn't even matter. That didn't change anything, and it wasn't right.
When she finally closed her eyes and felt everything go white and dark, she just prayed that everything was the way it was supposed to be.
A second ago, she was there. Ten minutes ago, she had still been reading her book, but now that was splattered with blood, the chair was coated in the red liquid and there was a spear in her place, a spear that almost seemed to pulsate, but Destiny couldn't do anything but choke back her sob and lean her head against the arm of the chair, trying to breathe properly.
When he looked back she was gone and there it was instead. Her blood was everywhere and Coincidence wanted to be sick. He put a hand on Destiny's shoulder, awkwardly, and hated how suffocating the silence was getting.
Father Peter said something in Latin, which might have been required or might have been a prayer of his own. His hand was streaked with blood, and it was with the most careful control that he finally said,
"One of you take the spear."
Destiny swallowed, again, and put her own hand over Coincidence's, squeezing it, before standing up. This was what they were here to do, in the first place. They had all known this since years ago and...
Her hand reached out for the spear, and the moment she touched it, she felt like gagging as her fingers wrapped around the shaft.
Coincidence didn't want to touch it and was somewhat relieved as he watched Destiny take it instead. Watching was all he could do and all he was good for at this point. This was it, all those years and it had finally come down to this. They were almost finished now, weren't they-- isn't that what it meant?