We're But Ghosts in This
Feel free to ignore this. Just a random Fiona Carter drabble from an old rp that I want to keep :)
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Fiona wasn't the type to give up.
It was why she was so good at the job. She had a history of being absolutely ruthless in the field, doing whatever was necessary to complete a mission. Seduction, blackmail, slander, threats, violence---she'd done it all, and she'd done it well. Like any other spy, she'd had setbacks (Danny's death being the first that came to mind), but she'd always bounced back.
But not now. Not now.
Fiona couldn't remember the last time she'd moved. The last time she'd left her bed in the hotel room to eat, to take a bath, to do any other sort of daily activity. She just lay there, staring off into space. She could vaguely recall Adam trying to talk to her, his shuffling about as he tried to muddle through each day, but that was it. All of her other thoughts revolved around her death.
She was dead.
No matter how many times she thought it, she couldn't stop reacting to it. Her body recoiled, and she felt herself squeezing into a tighter ball on the mattress, her heart aching so badly that she was sure her thoughts alone could manifest physical pain. She was dead. Her life was over. She would never have another anniversary with Adam. They wouldn't have any other children, and she would never see her grandchildren. God, Wes. She wouldn't see him grow up, see him become a man. Graduate high school, college. Get married. She would become a memory to him, one that would dwindle as the years went by.
So how was she supposed to get out of bed? How was she supposed to "live each day" in this village, when she had no life. She was a ghost, a shadow.
Fiona Carter no longer existed.
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Fiona wasn't the type to give up.
It was why she was so good at the job. She had a history of being absolutely ruthless in the field, doing whatever was necessary to complete a mission. Seduction, blackmail, slander, threats, violence---she'd done it all, and she'd done it well. Like any other spy, she'd had setbacks (Danny's death being the first that came to mind), but she'd always bounced back.
But not now. Not now.
Fiona couldn't remember the last time she'd moved. The last time she'd left her bed in the hotel room to eat, to take a bath, to do any other sort of daily activity. She just lay there, staring off into space. She could vaguely recall Adam trying to talk to her, his shuffling about as he tried to muddle through each day, but that was it. All of her other thoughts revolved around her death.
She was dead.
No matter how many times she thought it, she couldn't stop reacting to it. Her body recoiled, and she felt herself squeezing into a tighter ball on the mattress, her heart aching so badly that she was sure her thoughts alone could manifest physical pain. She was dead. Her life was over. She would never have another anniversary with Adam. They wouldn't have any other children, and she would never see her grandchildren. God, Wes. She wouldn't see him grow up, see him become a man. Graduate high school, college. Get married. She would become a memory to him, one that would dwindle as the years went by.
So how was she supposed to get out of bed? How was she supposed to "live each day" in this village, when she had no life. She was a ghost, a shadow.
Fiona Carter no longer existed.