V, JoeNicky & Nile
V. An abandoned or empty place.
When Joe pulls the sheet off the couch it kicks up enough dust that it makes Nile sneeze. The couch underneath is old, wooden frame rotting, fabric stained and full of holes where moths have eaten away at it.
“Sorry,” Joe says to Nile when she finally manages to get the sneezing under control. “Didn’t realise it was that bad.” He puts his hands on his hips and looks down at the couch. Nile looks it over.
“There’s no saving that,” she says, wiping at her eyes. She can heal from falling over ten stories, but she can’t get away from allergies.
Joe frowns. “I liked that couch.”
The house is older than anywhere else they’ve brought her, and has been abandoned for long enough that it’s falling apart. But through some trick of posing as their own sons, or something, Joe and Nicky still own it, even if there’s a giant hole in the roof and all the windows are broken. Why they’d decided to come back here, Nile doesn’t know, but it’s a nice enough area, and a good distraction from, well. Everything. Growing back a leg, she’s discovered, is not fun.
From one of the other rooms – she thinks it’s the kitchen, she’s not actually sure where Nicky had wandered to – there’s the sound of something breaking and crashing to the ground, and a muffled curse.
Joe makes a questioning noise in the vague direction of the kitchen. A few moments later, Nicky appears in the doorway, covered in dust. “I am okay,” he says. “But I think we will need to go out to eat tonight.”
“Nothing?”
Nicky shakes his head. “Unless you want to start a fire and go hunt some rabbits.”
Joe grins. “Just like old times, right?”
Nile shakes her head firmly, which makes Nicky smile. She loves them, but there’s no way they’re doing that.
“We can probably clear out enough space in here,” Joe says, gesturing to the floor. “Get the sleeping bags out of the car. Probably have to start a fire anyway, but…”
Nile looks around again while Joe says something to Nicky in Arabic that makes him laugh. The house is falling apart, sure, but it’s structurally stable, and the bones are all there. It could be something. They’ve got time to make it something.
Nicky is the one who goes for pizza in the end – he doesn’t trust Nile and Joe to order it if left to their own devices – while they try to clear out a space in the living room. Eventually, though, after Nile has another sneezing fit, Joe suggests they just take the sleeping bags outside instead, which works out a lot better. He sets about starting a fire with practiced ease while Nile sets out the sleeping bags around it. They’re far enough away from civilisation that she can’t hear cars passing by, which is kind of surreal, and the stars are brighter than she’s ever seen them.
When Nicky gets back, two boxes balanced on one arm and a bottle of wine in the other, he looks over their makeshift camp and laughs. “Just like old times, then?” he asks.
Joe grins. “Except we have pizza.”
“And actual sleeping bags,” Nile says.
“Ah, these modern inventions could never quite match the comfort of a pile of furs,” Joe says wistfully. Nile gives him a look. She’s ninety percent sure that one’s bullshit, but she can never quite tell with him.
Nicky sets down the pizza boxes, and jogs back to the car to grab the pack of plastic wine glasses they’d bought before they got here.
“We should’ve bought marshmallows,” Nile says. “Could have made s’mores.”
“Well, we’ll have to go to the hardware store tomorrow anyway,” Joe points out. “And I think it’ll be a little while before we can actually sleep in there.”
“Tomorrow, then?”
“Tomorrow,” Nicky agrees.
65 notes
·
View notes
so a Yellowjackets AU where mari says something to get herself kicked out of the cabin, and she dies of exposure and gets eaten at the bachanalian banquet instead of Jackie, who LIVES, who's there at Shauna's side when she goes into labor, stroking her hair and letting Shauna squeeze her hand hard enough to sprain her fingers, who keeps Shauna calm enough she has a (comparatively!!!!!!) easier delivery, who is the reason the(ir) baby lives.
who finally, after months of feeling adrift and useless because she’s not a hunter or a butcher or a prophet or a captain (anymore) finds her purpose in the wilderness. who painstaking sews patchwork baby onesies and cloth diapers from the girls' spare clothes (Offerings, not donations). who makes a baby sling from animal pelts and backpack straps. who makes a rattle from sticks and pinecones and some light blue pebbles Jackie found by the lake one day and saved. who makes sure the cabin stays warm and clean for Luke Dylan (from 90210--they couldn't decide whether to go with the actor or the character).
who builds them another shelter from blankets and animal hides after the cabin burns down. who keeps shauna and their baby warm through that first terrible winter and the one that followed.
and one day in 1998, Canadian forest rangers happen upon that American high school soccer team that went missing 2 years back. they find a group of starving teens and a baby, a little over a year old, two of the girls wrapped around him--and each other
and when the rescue team tries to separate them the one with tangled, golden brown hair bears her teeth and Growls
360 notes
·
View notes
oh. so. this dream and this vision and this exchange after and everything that has been building to here.
All that rage, all that desperation, Imogen's knowledge that Liliana's judgement is flawed and searching for any reason to understand, searching for a way to bring her out of it. Bring her back.
"Show me" and she does and.
Its- beautiful, its wonderful. Its the unmaking of the world and of history and it feels- so good. For a moment Imogen feels something she hasn't for YEARS. A life and a possibility and a future full of peace she hasnt had for ages, hasnt even bothered hoping for. For a moment, Imogen sees it, but more importantly- she feels it- the freedom, the peace, the dream. Stronger than any vision. She sees it. She feels it.
And she wakes up, and she- unknowingly, perfectly, mirrors her own mothers words, looks around, asks- did you see it? Did you all see that? (I wish you all could see what I could see-)
They didn't- of course they didn't. They saw Liliana, too far gone, spouting nonsense, they saw her reach out, they saw the refusal to listen to reason. They did not see the vision. (They couldn't have. Even if they'd seen it- would they have understood? How could they? No beautiful vision would have captured the thing that left the awe in Imogen's lungs- the peace. The freedom. The finality of, finally, finally, being free of this gift that has only been a curse.)
They didn't see the vision. They saw their friend, tapped on the forehead after hopeless pleas. They've been seeing their friend make further and further excuses for someone they know is a danger, someone siding with people they are working so hard against. That has hurt them. They've seen the way she can't quite denounce Liliana. They've hedged around it: If she's not on our side, will you be okay- You know if she's not on our side, we'll have to-
They've been watching. They're seeing plenty. They did not see the vision. They couldn't have.
They saw a fruitless conversation. They saw their friend rebuffed by someone she loves. They saw her wake up with a strange kind of light in her eyes and- say.
What if its not so bad? (The world ending. Half of the world being eaten. Innocent lives lost. Our loved ones cut down for a fever dream and delusions of power and grandeur. Us, cut down, for some stupid plot for a moon and petty revenge against the gods and a desire to end the world.) They've been watching her, make halfhearted arguments, sidle away. Make increasingly desperate excuses. Ask: What if.
(Its so easy to ask, what if. Its so dangerous. Sometimes the if is used to hide away lives and lives of collateral, of blood red loss. Sometimes the if has already been answered and paid for, and the act of asking is its own form of violence, all over again.)
"Well Imogen, I wish my family didn't have to die for her brighter tomorrow."
And the way Imogen collapses, a little- presses her face into her hands and crumples under the weight of the reminder, like voices piling in after weeks of being in blissful quiet in a forest. Like reality breaking in after a beautiful dream. "You're right. I'm sorry. You're right."
"I swear, I wanna see this through, I do."
"She just presented this vision of- it didn't seem so bad."
And the Bells try to help, to be kind. They say: We understand why this must be hard for you. She's someone you love, its hard to deal with them thinking a different way. What did you see?
They are trying so hard, to reason through it, to balance their own hurt with kindness and sound arguments to lead her back. They want so badly, to lead her back. Have her back.
The problem however, is not the soundness of the argument, is not the reason or the logic- but the overwhelming allure of that sensation- of that promise- of the hope- of the ideal. Of a mirage that already drew Liliana in. That is pulling Imogen's gaze, despite. Despite, despite, despite.
Hope is such a tricky thing to kill.
165 notes
·
View notes