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[ There is no part of him that wants to do this. But the alternative has already been spelled out multiple ways, and there's too much blood on the ground already.

So. Here they are. ]

We should meet. No weapons.

I would like that. Alone?

No. Bring Washington. I know he's here.

[ He doesn't want to do this. He wants to fight and he wants this to be over with and somehow the two cannot coexist. So they'll meet. They'll talk. And they'll see it through. ]

I told Angela. Told Drake. They might come.

Understood. You can pick the location.

[ He sends out the location data for the apartment he shares with Angela. It's not exactly neutral ground, but it's something. ]

...how does he. Does he know it's me? He didn't say "David." Fuck.

[ Wash scrubs at his face worriedly, then shakes his head and goes for his jacket. ]

Where's the pin?

We'll be there in under 30 minutes.

[ confirmation for ephemera, before carolina just forwards the pin wash's way as she goes to grab her hoodie. ]

I don't know. I know Drake was talking to him and I think he knows who you are, but... [ she shakes her head. ] We'll find out.

[ Wash checks the pin. ]

It's his and Angela's apartment. And yeah... I'll know based on how pissed he looks. I guess it's not like I had a plan to come clean anyway.

[ He shakes his head and opens the door, holding it for Carolina. ]

Here goes nothing.

It'll be okay.

[ she says that now, even if she doesn't believe it, because some part of her will always feel responsible for wash's safety and this is no exception. they don't talk much on the journey to the other apartment, but carolina eventually catches wash's hand as they walk, hating to touch anyone else but... it's wash. it's just as much to seek reassurance as it is to try to flood him with her own. a kind of ridiculous positive reassurance feedback loop - surely that's a valid reason to use this stupid experimental thing that they never asked for.

but she's not touching him when they arrive, when she sends the request for ephemera to let them into the building. instead, she's deliberately arranging herself between wash and the apartment door when she knocks. no weapons isn't a guarantee of no violence, after all, even if she's cautiously optimistic about the whole thing. ]

[ Ephemera answers the door in his civilian clothes. Long sleeves and jeans, all flecked with paint. It's a choice he's made. Not happily, but it's a line in the metaphorical sand. A choice to talk instead of fight, because it's already been proven how the latter ends. And he cannot be that person here. Not again. And it's because of that choice that he doesn't immediately throw something at Washington when he sees the man's face. ]

David, huh?

[ There's venom in his tone, though maybe not as much as expected. Ephemera shakes his head, feeling foolish and too tired to do anything real about it.

This is where they stand now. This is how it's going to happen.

He steps back. He lets them in.

It's standard, as apartments around here go. Not many personal touches. All of Ephemera's paintings are shut away in his room. He hasn't so much as looked at Angela's since he got back. That's another line he's drawn. Her space is her own, and he won't break that.

Drake is there, hanging back but still present, and Ephemera breathes out. Flexes his hands, watching the rings tattooed there as they shift. One for each brother, each sister, that he lost. And then one for Connie. ]

[Ginia came back to the apartment once after leaving the hospital. Climbed the side of the building so she could slip through her bedroom window. All her belongings fit into two bags, even her toiletries. She came and left without a sound, disappeared back into the city without anyone knowing the wiser.

And now she's back. Ginia watches at a distance, waits until Carolina and David before she approaches. She's late, and for someone who is so often early on precisely on time, maybe those extra minutes feels damning. The spiteful part wants Ephemera to notice. It's far more likely he doesn't expect her to show up at all.

But Ginia does because she's a person of her word even if others aren't. A talk is happening, she told Carolina she'd be there to see it through. So a few minutes after Carolina and David enter the apartment, Ginia lets herself in.

With how limited her wardrobe is, her outfit is the same as the one she wore when she died. The jacket has been washed, all traces of blood gone. There's a thin slice on the side where the fabric hasn't fully mended herself. Her jacket is zipped all the way up; she'll nerve make that mistake again.

Ginia doesn't really acknowledge anyone as she takes the side closest to the entrance. Leans against the wall with an air of calm and a stoic expression far closer to cold. Everyone else is here to talk. She's just the observer.]

[ Wash winces at the way Ephemera says his name, suddenly very aware of the way that Carolina is keeping herself between them. He looks sheepish. ]

It's my name. I never lied, just didn't want to die either, and then I felt like we were actually getting along, like...

[ He flaps his arms slightly, not sure how to put it... he should have practiced this part more. His eyes go to the other man hanging back across the room, who looks vaguely familiar from the Safehouse. That must be Drake. No Angela, not yet, but if she shows he won't out that she knew. ]

Maybe it was a mistake.

[ They come farther in, put some distance between themselves and Ephemera, and then the door opens again. There's Angela. She looks... cold.

Wash is more worried now, but tries not to let it show.

He fails. ]

[ for all that she wants this to be peaceful, carolina treats the apartment like a fight waiting to happen. her expression is neutral, but everyone here is too attentive not to see the way her eyes take the living room in. drake’s position, angela’s. doors, windows, heavy or breakable things.

she’s never needed weapons to do damage, even if she doesn’t want to right now. hopes she doesn’t have to. ]

He wasn’t intentionally trying to deceive you. [ a gesture to wash, still partially behind her. ] It’s just... how things happened. And like everything else, I know that that doesn’t change history, but I have to believe that intention means something.

[ she pauses, but just long enough to take a breath, not long enough to really give anyone else a space to talk. she’s been thinking about what she’s going to say here for days. time to get it out. ]

Because getting mad about someone who didn’t mean to hurt you but did is understandable. I get it. People do terrible goddamn things without meaning to all the time. But if you think you’ll feel better for holding them accountable for those terrible things, you just set yourself up to be disappointed. [ there’s a little shake of her head as her expression furrows some, less detached than before. ] Because you let anger keep you alive and you wait until that person you hated because they destroyed your family is dead and then you realize that you don’t feel any fucking better. Revenge just gets more blood on your hands.

You fucking liar.

[ It's said softly, a little incredulous. More at the fact that Ephemera fell for it than the fact Washington tried in the first place. This is what Freelancers do. They lie and dodge and refuse to stand and fight. They forget the dead they've left. And once, not so long ago, Washington stood with him in a dream and listened as Ephemera named the fallen. Promised to remember them. It's hard to reconcile that. It's a trick, or at least it ought to be. A save, something he'd done to save his own ass.

It hadn't felt that way in the moment, though.

Angela is standing in the corner. Wearing the exact same jacket he killed her in.

Ephemera tips his head back. Breathes. It doesn't help much. ]

Oh. You didn't mean to kill my people in the water. That was just something that happened, them drowning. You didn't mean to betray your own fucking people either, huh?

[ There are bad ways to die. Chica and Barrows died bad. That was a choice. That was deliberate. ]

I liked Connie. She was—

[ Stop. Don't go there. Don't start yelling. Ephemera shivers all over, flexing his hands. He doesn't want to be here, talking. But he promised, and he's already spiraled out once. Gotten the wrong people involved, drew the wrong blood. If he gets angry it will spiral out all over again and Angela is right there, watching it all play out. What he owes her cannot possibly be repaid, but they were friends once; he ought to try. He has so few friends in this world. ]

I have to let it go. I know that. I fucking know that. But you don't get to pretend this is something that just happened.

I don't know why you think we're liars. We're guilty of a lot, but not that. I've never lied to you, I was just trying to survive. But that's here. Back home, how many people did your squad kill on orders? How many last men standing could come after you? None of us are special here, we were just in a war.

[ Wash does still know their names. He committed them to memory and they won't go anywhere. He'll remember until the day he dies, or so he thinks. ]

...Connie was my friend too. But she didn't trust me, so I couldn't help her. I wanted to, I tried, I knew something was wrong and kept asking and if I'd known, maybe things would have been different. We didn't know, Ephemera. Being sorry doesn't change anything, doesn't fix anything, but we are.

Everyone fucks up and everyone pays for it, one way or another. The question is for how long do we have to keep paying? We've been trying to make it right for years and know it's never going to be enough. At some point we all have to let it go.

[ He sighs. ]

My name really is David. And I was hiding behind that but I really did think maybe I could just be your friend. Eventually.

[ it’s easier to stay calm before connie comes up. she’s a sore spot and always will be. that last fight with her had been the beginning of the end of the team that carolina had so struggled to hold onto, realizing too late that none of them trusted her enough to talk to her. realizing too late, too, that as soon as tex had different goals than she did, carolina was always going to lose. and that meant losing her friends.

but she bites her tongue and takes a deep breath, hands flexing at her sides. trying not to curl them into fists while wash talks. that’s the wrong message here.

if only connie had just talked to her, to wash, to any of them. ]

I’m not trying to diminish what happened or what we did, I promise you. [ adding on to what wash has to say, dragging herself out of her own tormented thoughts. ] But I can’t change it, either.

You were pretending so I wouldn't kill you.

[ It's worse because he'd actually liked David. Trusted him in small ways. And it's so easy to focus in on that, zero in on the hurt, but Ephemera shivers. Stops himself, because it cannot go on like this. He's already seen the outcome. He's been having nightmares about Chorus, the planet killer. Bodies spread out before him in the sand. And not so long ago he would have been fine with that. Ending it bloody, because how else could it possibly go? How else could people like them possibly solve it except by violence?

Breathe, little brother.

He breathes. He remembers Hunter's voice and he stays in the moment, even though it hurts. Even though he's shaking. Because he'd been pretending too, at least in the beginning. Pretending to be someone he wasn't so he'd fit in, so he'd have a place among these people. Called himself Ephemera without meaning it because going by Sharkface would have marked him as crazy, and crazy people turn into liabilities. And he'd kept that up for a good long while until one day he couldn't anymore. Because he remembered how it had gone with CT, how much it had hurt to know his brother couldn't wait. That CT had died alone. And he'd thought, I can't do that. Not to these people. So he'd changed, if just in a small way and that—

Well. Here they fucking stand. ]

I can't do this anymore.

[ It's said abruptly. He twitches, touching his knuckles to his mouth. Standing here and talking hurts in a way he wasn't ready for. ]

We can't kill each other. Yes, agreed? Because it doesn't work and I—

[ And he's already fucked up once, in a way that cannot be undone. He twitches again. Wants to start pacing, to put his fist through the wall, to move. ]

I don't want to hear your reasons. I don't care.

Not pretending--

[ That's all he can get out before the other soldier continues, and what he says isn't promising. Wash goes quiet. Breathes.

Maybe this is as good as they're going to get. Maybe he shouldn't push it.

He looks to Carolina, trying to keep his expression neutral but disappointment shines in his eyes. She'll be able to recognize that even if Sharkface doesn't. And there's a sick twist in Wash's stomach when he realizes he's thinking of him as Sharkface again, not Ephemera. That's not what he'd wanted. ]

[ "I can't do this anymore."

that's a sentiment she knows well, the humanizing thing that she clings to as she lets ephemera continue. she can't be mad at him for hurting. she just has to keep reminding herself of that. ]

Alright.

[ she nods, spares a glance at wash, at that disappointment that physically pains her to see, almost gets mad all over again before she forces herself to breathe. unclench her fists. stop thinking about how nice hitting anything right now would feel. it won't help. ]

No more talking. If you're not actively looking to kill us, then we're in agreement. [ it wasn't like the freelancers wanted him dead at any point to begin with. he was collateral damage, then a threat to the people she was protecting on chorus.

but he's never been her enemy for personal reasons and that's why carolina pauses just long enough to look to the room's silent observers, spare a glance to make sure neither of them have really moved, before her gaze fixes on ephemera again. ]

There's only so many Displaced. I know it's going to be a long way off, but I hope that some day, you can consider us your allies here.

Allies?

[ It continues. Ephemera makes a strangled sound, entirely too close to laugher, and clamps a hand over his mouth. No. They're not doing that. It'll be over if he starts laughing, if he lets that spiral out. And even now there's a part of him that thinks it would be so much easier if they just fought. Went at each other, let the violence do its work. But he cannot. He cannot. The promise was already broken once and he knows, deep down, that if he lunged for either of the Freelancers then the others would get involved trying to stop it and then what would he have?

No. They're not doing that.

His hands are twitching. Closing around nothing. He ignores that. Focuses on the moment as best he can, trying to control his breathing. To stay out of the old memories. ]

Get out. Get out!

[ Wash flinches, but instead of going full kicked puppy something closes off in his expression. A defense mechanism -- he shouldn't have expected anything but this. This is how it was always going to go. ]

Come on, Carolina. I think I've had enough, too.

[ He steps backwards towards the door, not willing to turn his back on Sharkface. ]

[ for one stubborn moment, carolina almost wants to stay, wants to ask why he gets to lash out like this, when they're just trying to be civil. when she's just trying to fix things. it would lead to violence, almost certainly, but violence would be good right now. it makes more sense to her than talking does.

but it making more sense to all of them is probably why they're here in the first place and wash using her name is enough to snap her out of it. she half turns, gesturing for wash to go out first, listening for the sounds of it as she briefly meets drake's, then ginia's eyes. she wants to apologize to them for being dragged into this, feeling as guilty for that as anything else, but now isn't the time. she knows that.

wash gets the door open and carolina turns on her heel to follow him out into the hall, only making sure he's out of view of the door before she's brushing past him with too-quick steps, headed for the stairwell and trusting him to follow.

she's pissed off and needs to get out of here. he knows what that looks like. ]

[Ginia is practically a statue as she listens to everyone talk, feeling no urge to say anything. She's already said what she wanted to say to Ephemera a few nights ago and there's nothing more she can add. It's all on the three of them now.

She's not sure why Drake is here, but he is Ephemera's fiance in some way or another, so that's probably why. Whatever. Not that it matters to her. In some weird, tired way, she's glad Ephemera has someone to talk to. Though it's not like he has any shortage of friends.

When Ephemera yells at them to get out, Ginia straightens a little. She glances at Carolina and David, waiting to see what they do. David leaves, and Carolina's eyes briefly meet hers before she leaves as well. And with them leaving, there's absolutely no reason for her to stay behind.

Her barrier springs into existence behind her as she walks toward the door, solidly preventing anyone from following after. She pauses just before she hits the limit of her range. There's a lot she wants to say. A lot she could say. Funny. This is her apartment too. He has no right to yell at her to leave. But she already moved everything out in the dead of night. Found an abandoned building to sleep the night away in, found more to bounce in and out of each night.

Her hand brushes against one of the recently patched sections of the wall. Lingers on the seams. Well. His place now. He can do whatever he wants to the walls.

Ginia's back straightens as she exhales and resumes walking. The barrier disappears behind her, reappearing closer as she resets it, disappearing as she leave the apartment for good.

David isn't too far ahead of her, though Carolina is already out of sight. Expression still stony, Ginia shoves her hands into her pockets and keeps walking.]

[ That was probably a mistake. Ephemera can tell the moment the words are out and everyone just goes cool. It's exactly what he'd wanted, everyone filing out, and he can't shake the feeling that he's drawn another line without considering the implications. Especially when Angela leaves, throwing up a barrier behind her.

He hadn't meant her, when he'd yelled at the Freelancers. But it's too late to say that now. She's already out the door. The barrier is message enough. And what would he even say if he went after her? What could he say or do that would change anything? So he stays, like a coward. He stays and he breathes and he tries to think of what the hell he's supposed to do now. There's no blood on the ground. No one got shot.

The silence is damning in the aftermath. He did this. It doesn't feel like an improvement. ]

Fuck.

[ He thumps his head against the wall. Not as hard as he could. It's over. He probably just made it worse. It was just. Noise, and talking, and having to spell out the hurt and it didn't work. It really didn't. He feels vaguely like he's going to be sick, wondering what this was supposed to accomplish.

More. Somehow.

Drake's still there. Watching it play out. Ephemera breathes out. His throat feels tight, and the words won't come out right if he tries to speak so he signs instead. The implants always translate. ]

You don't have to stay. It's over.

@terrence.ephemera

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