#ashlynn this isn't even what i was planning when you said something back in april about me writing sasharcy hurt/comfort

[coconurt]

Me: *realizes I've never written Sasharcy or anything from Marcy's pov*

Me: *fixes that*

FROM THE DEPTHS OF EDITING HELL I EMERGE

So I wrote this in early May before we knew how the finale was gonna go down, and this is so self-indulgent I really don’t know if anyone but myself will like it, but! Tossing it into the void anyway <3

Tagging the absolutely lovely people who encouraged me to finish this: @cowcowwow @insert-fictional-characters-name and @chaoticcerise

1.6 k - content warning for minor injuries, minor language, and mention/aftermath of possession

Orange.

Her entire world was nothing but orange.

Ugly and impenetrable. Like a prison, keeping her mind chained to the thing. The horrifying amalgamation of voices that called itself the Core.

It was torture.

It was like that for months, or maybe years. It was hard to keep track of time. All she knew, all she’d known right from the beginning, was that she couldn’t take much more. But yet, somehow, she did.

Then, just as she reached her breaking point, different voices. Familiar ones, ones that monster had tried its hardest to make her forget.

“Marcy, please, come back! We know you’re in there! Remember us?”

“Fight it, Marcy!”

“We can’t do this without you!”

Voices. The right voices.

Friends.

Then, green. Exploding all at once, in a burst of energy unlike anything she’d ever experienced before. All-encompassing. Intense, but freeing. It felt… right.

So much green. Then…

Nothing.

~~~

When she finally started existing again, everything ached. Horribly.

It was like she’d run a marathon, then been forced to walk back to the starting line. Her muscles were sore and her limbs felt bruised. Even her head hurt, which now felt… strangely empty. It was all she’d wanted for months, but now it just felt new and strange and awful.

Next she noticed something… comfortable. Her head and shoulders were being supported by something soft. It felt nice. It almost made her forget about the uncomfortable angle her legs were twisted at and the way her armor dug into her skin.

She tried to move, to wiggle her limbs, to open her eyes, to do something, but everything just hurt so much and her eyelids felt like they were made of lead and she was just so exhausted.

Slowly, sound began to phase back in. The ringing in her ears made it hard to pick out anything in particular, but she could’ve sworn she heard voices. Wait, no. One voice. Who was talking? Everything was fuzzy. And empty. And so painful.

“– open your eyes? Huh? Think you can do that for me? Come on, you gotta give me something to work with. Please, Mar. Just let me know you’re okay…”

Hm, she know that voice. It was a girl’s voice. Her girl. Well, one of them, anyway. Yeah, for her, she could open her eyes, if that’s what she wanted.

She blinked them open, only to shut them again immediately because frog the light was too bright, was the light always this bright?

(… when was the last time she’d seen sunlight?)

It took some effort, and a bit of time to let her eyes adjust, but she finally managed to open her eyes and keep them that way.

“Marcy!” a weary voice exclaimed.

Arms wrapped around her, squeezing her tight. Too tight. Too much. Oh wow, everything hurt. She groaned. At least, that’s what she thought she did. It probably came out as more of a whimper. A wave of dizziness crashed over her, and she felt like she might pass out again.

“Shit! No, Marcy, wait, keep your eyes open!” The speaker grabbed her face. Her hands were calloused, but gentle. “Just focus on me. Stay awake, you got that? Deep breaths.”

Marcy dragged in a shaky inhale, then another. Slowly, the black spots in her vision cleared, and a tired face came into focus above her. Bruises and scratches covered the girl’s face, and her eyes were bloodshot like she’d been crying. Long blonde hair cascaded over her shoulders and tickled Marcy’s face. Curiously though, dying flickers of fuchsia shimmered in those blonde strands and seemed to be steadily fading from her blue eyes. Weird. Must have been a trick of the light.

“There you are,” the girl praised. “How do you feel, Mar?”

“S- Sashy?” The old nickname slipped out before she could help it. She knew Sasha didn’t like to be called that anymore.

The other girl didn’t seem to mind, though. A smile broke out across her face.

“Yeah. It’s me,” she said softly. “You really gave us a scare, you know that? We weren’t sure — I thought I’d lost you again.”

We? Did that mean…?

“Is Anne here, too? Is… is she okay?”

Sasha ran a hand comfortingly through Marcy’s hair. “Yeah, Marcy. She’s here. She…” Sasha glanced over her shoulder at something Marcy couldn’t see. When she looked back, her face was contorted in worry. “She’s in rough shape, but she’s got people taking care of her. I think she’s gonna be okay.”

Anne was here? Rough shape? Had something happened? Marcy’s foggy brain chugged along, trying to make a connection. Weakly, she turned her head, attempting to make sense of her surroundings.

What she saw frightened her.

They were back in Andrias’ throne room.

It was in ruins. Stained glass windows, blown clean out of their fittings. Stone pillars, crumbled and leaning. Craters littered the mosaic floor, and suspiciously, she and Sasha seemed to be sitting in the center of one.

What horrified her most of all, though, was the helmet. It lay cracked and discarded several feet away, the ten faded orange eyes lifeless and dull.

What had happened? Why was…?

Oh.

Oh.

It all came flooding back to her, a torrent of memories seen through the lens of a mind that was not her own.

There had been a battle.

That thing — that horrible thing had made her… it had made her…

Her friends… Sasha … Anne…

Anne, I’m so sorry.

Guilt surged through her, leaden and unforgiving. Tears filled her eyes. Her brain was still too exhausted to process any of what she was feeling, so she did the only thing she could: she cried.

What started small turned into huge heaving sobs. Tears rolled down her cheeks, making trails through the dirt and grime that covered her face.

Sasha cursed. “Hey, what’s wrong? What- are you hurt somewhere? Hey, talk to me.”

Marcy choked on a sob and shook her head. She shuddered.

“Shit, you’re cold. Here,” Sasha gently let Marcy’s head rest in her lap as she unclasped something from around her neck. She pulled it off and draped it over Marcy. It was a fur cloak of some sort. It was warm and it smelled like Sasha, and though it was meant to be comforting, it only made her cry harder.

“Shh, Marcy, it’s okay. Don’t cry. That thing’s gone. You’re safe now. You’re gonna be okay.”

“B-but you’re not! I hurt y-you, you and Anne!” Marcy’s breath hitched. “I-I’m so sorry, I never meant for any of this to happen, I never s-should’ve..”

“Oh, Marcy,” Sasha murmured. “I’ve got you.” Carefully, making sure not to hold on too tight this time, she wrapped Marcy in a hug. Marcy couldn’t do much except sob into Sasha’s chest while the other girl whispered little reassurances into the top of her head.

Eventually, the tears subsided. Sasha pulled back just enough to look Marcy in the eyes. She brushed her overgrown bangs out of the way.

“Mar-mar, look at me.”

Hesitantly, Marcy obeyed.

“None of what happened was your fault. You were possessed, for god’s sake. It wasn’t you.”

Yes, it was. “But…”

“Repeat after me,” she ordered. “It. Wasn’t. You.”

“It wasn’t.. me.”

“There we go,” Sasha said and smiled gently.

“But… I knew about the box, I knew what it would do. I should’ve told you and Anne from the start, I never should’ve made her-”

“Marcy, listen to me. We forgive you. We both forgave you a long time ago. We…” she hesitated. “We had a long time to think about things. We’re just so happy to have you back.”

Marcy managed a tiny smile. “I really missed you guys. Both of you.”

Sasha sniffed and swiped aggressively at a tear on her cheek. “We missed you too, you nerd.”

Marcy hesitated. Then, freeing her arms from underneath the cloak, she wrapped them around Sasha’s middle in a tight hug. The other girl fiercely returned it.

After a minute, Sasha released her. “Think you can try sitting up?” she asked.

Marcy grimaced, but assented, and with Sasha helping to support her, she was able to shift off Sasha’s lap and sit up on her own. The furry cloak slipped down to rest on her legs, so she readjusted it to drape over and around her shoulders instead.

Sasha’s eyes tracked the movement, and she smirked. “What do you say we get out of here, Marmar?”

Marcy experimentally tried to pick herself up off the ground, but her muscles felt like jelly. “Yeah, but… I don’t think I can walk-”

In one swift motion, Sasha rose to one knee, slipped one arm under Marcy’s knees and the other behind her back, then scooped Marcy into her arms and stood up like the course of action was never a question at all.

“- yet,” Marcy squeaked, any previous weariness temporarily forgotten.

Sasha tilted her head in a confident gesture. “Come on,” she said, the smirk still on her face. As if Marcy had a choice in the matter. Not that she was complaining, of course.

Rendered temporarily speechless, she managed a tiny nod while she tried to ignore the annoying heat rising in her face.

Sasha took care to make sure her cloak was still securely wrapped around Marcy’s shoulders before setting off to rejoin a few frogs from the resistance convening on one side of the ruined throne room.

Marcy knew things weren’t okay yet, and she knew they wouldn’t be for a long time. But at that moment, it was hard to feel distressed about the future when she was being held tightly by one of her favorite people in the present.

So for now, she enjoyed the feeling of Sasha’s strong arms around and beneath her, and she wondered how, after all she’d been through and all she’d done, she got lucky enough that she still got to have this.