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Anne doesn’t know if it’s the Squid and Basil Special or simply the stress of the day that is making her sleepy. Sure, the trip inside that giant snake’s intestines kind of made her whole body feel sore, and the expedition to get to the factory alone was more disastrous than she could ever have expected.
And she lost her shoe. Again. Stupid quicksand.
But, Stumpy also gave her a double serving of larb as a “welcome back” present pretty much as soon as she sat down to eat, so maybe it’s just the impending food coma. She’d actually risked falling asleep while she was taking a mud bath earlier, but the following shower (quick and cold because they had to save water, but still! A shower!) had helped relieving a lot of the tension seeped in her bones, leaving her feeling all loosey goosey.
Now that she’s clean, changed and fed, Anne is more than content to chill in her corner as the members of the resistance all eat and mingle around, the Plantars’ basement’s main... square? Room? Centre?
The Plantars’ basement’s whatever-it-can-be-called refurbished as a mess hall for all the members of the resistance to mingle with each other. The feast is supposed to be a celebration for both the success of the last mission and the return of the Plantars. A part of her wishes she had something a bit fancier than shorts and a t-shirt to wear, but it’s the best she can do while her uniform dries out after a thorough wash. It’s certainly better than walking around covered in snake spit, that’s for sure.
She looks around for the members of her adoptive family, happy to see how excited they all are to be with their fellow citizens once more. Sprig is all wrapped around Ivy, the telescope Anne got him for his birthday in his hands as he chats her ear off. At the far end of the hall, Polly is introducing her legs – “left one’s Romero and right one’s Skullbuster, Anne, remember their names.” - to Rosemary, Lavender and Ginger, tiny hands on her hips and preening as they oooohhh and ahhhhhhh while she explains to them the perfect form to hold in order to execute a roundhouse kick. Hop Pop, predictably, is putting on one hell of a performance for Sylvia, Chuck and Soggy Joe, no doubt recalling his stint as a Hollywood sensation and how he managed to survive the LA jungle.
Anne sighs contentedly, stretching her arms above her head. They had missed Wartwood so terribly while on Earth that simply seeing them interacting again with their loved ones is a sight to see.
Out of nowhere Wally jumps on top of the Plantar ancestor’s statue, accordion in hand, loudly asking who wants to hear a song. Immediately after, Mrs. Croaker yells at him to keep it down and he flees the scene with a yelp.
Anne snorts to herself. Some things never change.
It’s while she’s aimlessly looking around at the excited mass of townspeople that she spots Sasha entering from one of the side tunnels. She’s changed into a simple brown tunic and pants, her cape the only thing covering her bare arms. Her hair is damp, curling at the tips and swept to the side, wavy strands all pooled over her left shoulder. She has brushed her long bangs back, so that they don’t fall in front of her face.
A cheery greeting reverberates through the crowd when they see her, and she smiles warmly in return, hurrying to get in line as she grabs a plate and a glass from a nearby shelf that seems to be standing by sheer force of will. She makes small talk with the frogs next to her while she waits for her turn, and as soon as she gets her food, she begins to walk around with ease, stopping to say hi here and there and bumping her glass against Grime’s when he raises his pint in her direction before resuming his conversation with Toadstool and Felicia. For some reason, though, she doesn’t stop at any of the empty seats she finds along the way.
Anne realises she’s staring when Sasha casually turns and their gazes lock, all the way from the centre of the room. Her eyes widen in surprise, steps faltering for a moment before she stops completely, almost bumping into Loggle.
There’s no hesitation from Anne’s part when she lifts her hand to wave and then gestures to the empty seat at her right. She sends Sasha an excited grin, one that is met by lips pursed in concern and Sasha’s eyes running from left to right before they settle back on Anne.
“You sure?” she mouths, and Anne nods quickly before patting the vacant spot once more. As Sasha slowly starts to walk over, she tries to smother the sudden burst of nerves that’s making her body tense up. Honestly, she’s spent so much time and effort simply trying to come back to this killer world and actually fix her relationship with her friends that a little awkwardness will be the last thing to stop her.
Sasha finally arrives and stops right in front of Anne. She gives a small smile, a hesitant thing that is both shy and hopeful in equal measure, and clears her throat. “You sure this is fine?”
Anne rolls her eyes this time, but she’s not annoyed. It’s endearing, honestly. She’d have never thought, not in a million years, that Sasha would be so unsure of what she can or can’t do, much less asking permission to do something. She’s trying to give Anne an out. This is her way of saying that she’ll keep her distance if Anne asked her to, that she’s not the one at the wheel and isn’t planning on taking it. And, while Anne knows that it would be fair, that she’d have every right to be angry at Sasha for all the things she put her through over the years, she just... can’t.
She wants to make this work, she really does.
“Super sure,” she says, a smirk tugging at her lips. “Sit down before the food gets cold, partner.”
Sasha huffs, but there’s no heat behind it, and plops herself down unceremoniously. “Pro tip: if you want to really sell that accent, grab a cowboy hat and disappear into the sunset with a snail.”
“Well, pardon me lass, I happen to have spent quite some time on the range, bringing them mighty beasts for a spin. Ain’t nothing like a good afternoon spent riding around on good ole Bessie, if I do say so myself.” Anne drawls in her best Hop Pop impression, her grin growing wider when Sasha visibly cringes, body recoiling in horror.
“Oh my god, just stop.” Sasha begs, looking far too amused for how annoyed she’s supposed to be acting. “Hop Pop is gonna disown you.”
“Oh, geez louise, now that would be proper inconvenient, now wouldn’t it?” Anne tips an imaginary hat, unable to hold back a snort when Sasha slams her hands over her ears and turns her whole body towards her plate of food.
“Nope, not listening anymore, bye.”
Anne giggles at her, taking a sip from her glass as they fall into a comfortable silence.
Between how close they’re sitting and the smell of Amphibian-Thai fusion food, it’s almost like they’re sitting in the back of Thai-Go, getting lunch like it’s any other Thursday and hanging out after school. Anne sighs wistfully, the faces of her parents, teary and proud, flashing briefly in her mind. She misses them already, terribly so, but being surrounded by the townsfolk that basically adopted her soothes the pain a little.
Sasha, especially, this new and improved version of her, brings to her heart a feeling she hasn’t experienced since the Battle of the Bands. That warmth brought by the knowledge that in that moment both Sasha and Marcy undoubtedly had her back. Playing with them like they used to do for hours on end in one another’s garage, three people moving as one.
It had been so long since she’s seen such an open expression on Sasha’s face. She looks exactly like she did back when Anne and Marcy used to look up to her like she was a hero, before her inspiring determination and refusal to take no for an answer turned into manipulating words, sharper than knives. When she really, truly, unconditionally loved them. Anne couldn’t tell when the change happened, if it had started with her parents’ split, or maybe even before that. That insane need for control had crept into Sasha’s soul like a disease, poisoning their friendship, and after the attempted coup, she’d honestly thought they would be done for good.
But after that, the whole truth had been revealed.
And then Anne was back on Earth.
In the safety of her home, despite all the arguments and tension left between them, despite still feeling the burn of betrayal like a fresh wound in her back, Anne couldn’t stop thinking about them. During the sleepless nights spent searching the most obscure websites in hope of finding something, anything that could tell her how to get to Amphibia again, Anne had been so worried about Sasha and Marcy that sometimes just looking at their initials carved on her bedpost was enough to make her eyes well up in tears.
It was bad enough that there wasn’t a corner of the city she could turn to where there wouldn’t be traces of them. Coffee shops, the mall, the skate park, the beach. Their names next to the highest scores at the arcade, Marcy’s favourite table at the library, Sasha’s name tagged with neon spray paint in the most random alleys one could find. Their park, with the sand pit Sasha had fallen into while defending them from bullies, and the swing Marcy always claimed could go higher than the other, and the metal slide on which Anne had burned her hands during a hot afternoon.
She’d forced herself to not think about them, because if she dwelled on everything that had happened for more than one second, if she allowed herself to slow down, then she would have shattered. And she didn’t have time for that. She had to find a way to bring the Plantars home, defeat Andrias, and save her friends as soon as possible.
So, now that she has made it back, she figures it’s perfectly normal to be a little star-struck, especially taking into account the last 48 hours.
Anne knows she’s probably being creepy, but considering everything that’s happened, it’s hard to even stop looking at Sasha. Pushing the longer hair and broader shoulders aside, or even the new scars littering the toned, sun-kissed expanse of her arms, it’s the relaxed nature of her features that is downright mesmerizing. Sasha has been tightly wound her whole life, the warmth that could occasionally seep through her sharp eyes reserved for very special occasions and - quite literally - a couple of very special people.
She hasn’t done a complete 180, because there’s still a familiar steel holding her together, and the resolute light in her eyes is firmly present. But now her edges are smooth where they’d been jagged, and her signature hot-bloodedness that sometimes felt like a raging inferno, too hot to handle, has turned into a comforting blaze. She’s still a complete spitfire, that’s a given, but all that energy is channelled into something good now instead of simply being too scorching to be around.
Said spitfire is currently stuffing her face with food, spicy sauce all over her face and hands. Anne snorts at a particularly hard slurp of noodles, which catches Sasha’s attention. She swallows the huge bite and clears her throat, cheeks turning pink. It’s happened a lot in the past few days, though Anne is not sure why. Sasha was never the shy type. “Something wrong?”
“Just, uhm, wondering how you’re liking the Pad Thai,“ Anne quickly says, hoping Sasha won’t notice the slight hesitation there. “Stumpy and I brainstormed a lot on that one. It’s a family recipe. Not really the same because, you know, the bugs, but when life sends you in a world full of them...”
“Knew it looked familiar. When I got here after the temple and saw a Thai restaurant, I couldn’t believe it.” Sasha’s eyes narrow as she picks up a fly by the wings and flicks it away. “Could still do without the flies, though. It’s a pain to brush the wings out of your teeth.”
“Dude, don’t even start, I didn’t even have a toothbrush until I bought one while we were in Newtopia. I got dragged to the dentist back home and I had so many cavities that I’m pretty sure he gave me enough painkillers to knock down a horse. I was loopy for the entire day.”
“I’m sorry, pause. Hold up.” Sasha leans closer, grinning widely. “You got high on painkillers?”
“I could see every equation.” Anne wiggles her fingers in the air. “You should have seen his face when he pulled out a bucket worth of cricket legs. Wouldn’t be surprised if he decided to quit.”
“Nooo, poor dude.”
“Want to know the worst part? The Plantars were keeping an eye on me and Polly had the brilliant idea to tie my shoelaces together to prevent me from walking around too fast. I was right about to climb up the stairs.” Anne watches as realization dawns on Sasha’s face, her mouth already twitching in barely restrained hilarity. “Do the math.”
Sasha snorts, her hand flying in front of her face in a weak attempt to stop herself from laughing. She ends up doubling over, but somehow manages not to drop the plate precariously balanced on her lap, and oh, Anne had missed her. She’d missed the way her nose scrunches up when she laughs really hard, the way her eyes are blue, blue, blue with those tiny brown flecks surrounding the pupils, how stupidly warm her skin is when she straightens herself up and her arm brushes Anne’s, still chuckling softly and wiping a tear at the corner of her eye.
Sasha has always been the equivalent of a human furnace, sticking to light, summery clothing even in LA’s cloudier and windier days. Anne is instantly brought back to a couple of summers before, when they’d gone to the pool and the weather had been sweltering hot. She’d laughed like an idiot at a curious Marcy that was poking Sasha in the arm while she sprawled in the shade of a parasol because you’re clearly built for Russian winters, Sashy, how has LA not melted you yet?
Anne barely resists the urge to lean into it, clearing her throat instead. “Yeah, yeah, laugh it up. You’re not the one that had to take more painkillers because she got a concussion.”
Sasha makes a time-out sign with her hands. “Wait, wait, hold on,” she wheezes, hardly able to get the words out. “Please tell me there’s footage of this.”
“Sprig has it on video.” Anne pouts, picking a leaf out of her hair. “And now I’m one shoe down again, so really, I should have counted my blessings.”
“I can’t believe you already lost one.” Sasha bumps her knee into Anne’s, glancing down at her lone sock. “This place is, like, a black hole for your shoes.”
“I’m surprised it lasted that long, honestly,” Anne huffs, a sudden thought popping up in her head that instantly makes her smile. “It’s fine, mom packed me an extra pair. I’m covered for, like, at least the next twelve hours.”
She doesn’t miss the way Sasha sobers up at the mention of her mother. Her eyes flicker around for a second or two, uncertainty turning her features soft. “How are your parents?” she finally asks, mustering up enough courage to look at Anne in the eyes. The apology goes unspoken, and Anne accepts it all the same.
“Good,” she says after a moment. She pushes some squid around on her plate, lost in thought. “Seeing them again was... indescribable. I miss them already.”
“I bet you do,” Sasha pushes around some of the food in her plate. “Do they... do they know everything?”
“The general gist, yeah. They know about Amphibia, obviously, and Andrias’s invasion. And also that I didn’t get here alone and... how I got the music box.”
She glances out of the corner of her eye, a guiltily biased part of her expecting Sasha to be glaring her way. Instead, Sasha simply nods in understanding, turning to stare at the partying crowd with a faraway look in her eyes. “Yeah, I imagined. How did they take it? You know, our fights and... what happened in the throne room.”
Oh. That. “Oh, uh, no. I mean, I- I wanted to, but, you know, there was so much to do and, I mean...” Anne stammers, a bit surprised by the direct question. She pulls at the collar of her shirt, her neck growing hot. “I- I didn’t tell them about Toad Tower in detail, if that’s what you’re worried about.”
“I- I mean, it would have been only fair if you- are you okay?“ Sasha is glancing at her weirdly, her brows pulled in a... worried frown? “Hey, Anne, what-?”
“I mean it’s- it’s still kind of hard for me to even think about it, and Newtopia, too.” She’s not ready to talk about it. She’s not ready at all. As much as she tried to work through them, biting her tongue and finding a way to get the Plantars home had been the priority.
And even then, it wasn’t like those moments ever really left her alone. Especially night, in her dreams, they took front and centre stage. The primal fear she felt when she lost her grip on Sasha's hand. The unrestrained rage boiling in her veins and moving her hand on autopilot, swinging her sword and aiming it at Sasha’s face, her neck, the gaps in her armour.
In her nightmares it’s even worse. The sky is always red, like the moon, like Sasha’s blood at the bottom of Toad Tower where her broken body has landed, or Sasha’s blood on Anne’s hands on top of the Newtopian Gates, the rusted blade of Anne’s sword digging right through the middle of her chest. “I-I-I could- couldn’t really talk about the Gates or- or the throne room, and- yeah, that. Uhh, like, my powers came up and- and they know about that, but everything else, I didn’t- I-“
A sword piercing plated armour, layers of fabric, tender flesh and solid bone, with all the ease of a hot knife carving through butter. Eyes opened wide in fear, a hand reaching out, a body collapsing on the cold marble floor.
“And Marcy, I couldn’t... I-I couldn’t-“
It’s in that moment that Stumpy bursts out of the kitchen carrying a large beetle that’s just finished cooking. It’s skewered from side to side. The smell of scorching meat, roasted thoroughly from the inside out, spreads in the air, all the way to Anne, in a merciless assault to her senses. Everyone cheers. It sounds like grating static in her ears.
I’m sorry, for everything.
I’m sorry for everything.
I’m sorry.
ImsorryImsoryImsorryImsorryImso-
“-ne? Anne!”
Anne gasps, her mouth opening and closing, but no air enters her lungs when she tries to breathe in. Her eyes are watering, she can feel them burn, and still the tears won’t come. Her stomach contracts, a painful spasm seizing her whole chest. She’s suddenly overcome by the urge to puke.
She only realises that she’s clawing at Sasha’s forearm when she feels the soft skin give in under the pressure. She tries to pull back, but Sasha doesn’t let go, ducking her head to look into Anne’s eyes. “It's okay, hey, hey, look at me.” She doesn’t seem to feel the nails breaking her skin. "Want to get out of here?"
Anne doesn’t know what she wants, but she knows what she needs. She jerks her head in a pitiful excuse for a nod and, like that, Sasha is a girl on a mission. For a foolish, absolutely terrifying moment, Anne thinks Sasha is going to walk away and leave her there, alone in her panic.
Instead, Sasha slowly gets up and steps in front of her, making sure Anne can see her every movement. First she grabs Anne’s dish and glass, setting them next to her own so that they’re out of the way. Her hands slide under Anne’s arms and pull, effortlessly lifting her until she’s on her feet, and one of her arms wraps around Anne’s waist to help her moving.
She hears Sasha talk with some of the frogs around them, the sound muffled as if she’s listening with her head underwater, reassuring them that she and Anne are just going to take a walk. Her answers to their questions are short, but not unkind. She makes up something about feeling sleepy after a long day, and before Anne knows it, they’re taking a left into one of the tunnels at the far side of the main entrance and out of view.
Then, and only then, she allows the tears to fall. Anne folds in on herself, stumbling and nearly sending the both of them against one of the walls. She leans her whole weight on Sasha, almost falls to her knees if it weren’t for the safe hands steadying her and keeping her upright.
The underground tunnels are cold and humid. Her t-shirt is thin and her arms are cold, she’s cold all over, freezing to the point of burning, her chest burns and she can’t stop it, she couldn’t stop him then and she can’t stop this now. Something heavy falls around her shoulders and she clings to it, one arm held tight to the front of her chest and fingers digging into warm fabric- fur, it’s a cloak made of dark fur. So much like Mary's own-
“-ot you, don’t worry,” Sasha is saying, and Anne only hears her because they’re almost cheek to cheek, her other arm slung comfortably over Sasha’s shoulders as she helps her down the narrow paths of the tunnels. It’s a bit hard for Sasha to find her footing for a moment since Anne’s feet heavily drag on the ground, which is kind of weird since Sasha has always been the – mostly - undisputed tallest of their trio, so hefting Anne up shouldn’t be a problem for her at all -
Wait.
Huh, is all her sluggish brain can think for a second, the whiplash from her panic attack to this fairly simple realization hitting her like a bag of bricks. I’m the taller one now.
Sasha freezes mid stride, her eyes wide in disbelief and confusion, and Anne may be in a state of shock but she can tell that she must have said that out loud. They spend a second staring at each other, so close their noses are brushing, until Anne straightens her back a little, and just like that, the tip of her nose lines up with the bridge of Sasha’s.
“Oh.” She is. “I- I am?”
Sasha sputters for a good five seconds, then groans and tightens her grip around Anne’s waist, dragging her – but not less gently – into an opening to their right, pushing the curtain that covers the entrance aside with her free elbow. “No, you’re not.”
Anne struggles to get the words out, the crash from the adrenaline rush making her tongue feel like molasses in her mouth. “’m, t- too...”
“Are not.”
“Am, t- t- too.”
This is starting to feel suspiciously like a week-long argument they had in the sixth grade that Sasha won purely because she had a growth spurt over winter break. Anne may or may not be still salty about it.
“Are not. It’s- just- your hair. It’s the fluffy hair, alright? I’m tall.” Sasha brings Anne towards a cot laid at the far side of the room, right next to the wall. She carefully slides Anne’s arm from around her shoulders and guides her down, her lips drawn in what is most definitely a pout. Her eyes are laser focused, alert with worry. “Now sit. Can you breathe with me?”
Anne nods, jerkily, and tries to take in a lungful of air. Her chest feels tight, her windpipe refusing to expand like it should. She ends up sputtering out a cough, but immediately warm, calloused palms are cupping her face, brushing a couple of stray tears away from her cheeks. “Slow down.” Anne shuts her eyes and leans into the touch, allows it to ground her, and she tries to synch her breaths with the rhythmic strokes of Sasha’s thumbs along her jawline. “That’s it,” she hears her say, barely louder than a whisper. “Slow and steady. You’re doing great.”
It takes a couple of minutes, but once Anne is finally able to take deep and regular breaths, her head finally stops spinning. She blinks her eyes open, slowly, meeting Sasha’s worried ones, and offers her a grateful smile.
Sasha lets out a relieved sigh, her hands sliding down, over Anne’s shoulders, to give her a pat in reassurance. “There you go,” she says, and jerks a thumb back in the direction of a flask hanging on the handle of a dagger that’s stuck in the rock wall, acting as a makeshift hanger. “Want a sip of water?”
Anne nods, taking a moment for herself now that she’s beginning to calm down while Sasha stands up and dusts herself off. It’s less chilly than in the corridors, but not by much, and she brings the cape closer to her chest as she follows Sasha’s movements through the room . “Where-?“
Sasha freezes on the spot. “Uh, my room,” she says, swivelling around on her heel. The tips of her ears look ruddy in the light of the mushroom lamps. “S-sorry, I mean, I now outside outside would be better but it's risky and I didn’t really know if you could handle the walk to your quarters and here was closer, but we don’t have to stay here, I can always carry you the rest of the way, it’s not a big deal really-“
“Sash, breathe,” Anne interrupts her kindly. Pretty ironic, considering how she was hyperventilating less than a minute ago. “It’s okay, here’s perfect.”
Sasha clamps her mouth shut, a little embarrassed, and hands Anne the flask without a word. Anne manages a few sips, her heartbeat finally slowing down to a normal pace. She gives the water back to Sasha, who’s still on her feet and attentively looking down at Anne in case she needed anything else. The sight makes Anne smile.
“Thank you for helping me out,” she says, grateful. “And I’m sorry you had to be there for that. It all just... hit me all at once, for some reason, I don’t really know why.”
Sasha shakes her head. “You don’t have to apologize, I get it. Wanna chill here a bit? We don’t have to walk back out there if you don’t want to. I caught Hop Pop’s eye while we were leaving, so he knows you’re with me in case someone wanted to look for you.”
“What about your dinner? You weren't done.”
“Nah, it’s fine. I’ll just grab a little more for breakfast tomorrow, don’t worry.” Sasha shrugs, spreading her arms out and gesturing around. “Anyways, welcome to my crib. Watch out for the hidden daggers, I got a bunch laying around somewhere.”
There’s nothing much to look at, really. The walls are barren, save for some maps and a target that has met more knives than Anne could count, judging from how riddled with holes it is. A chest sits next to the entrance, the lid looking fit to burst, and next to it are some boxes from which spill out different pieces of clothing.
What really catches Anne’s eye are the multiple journals laying in a pile next to the cot, each of the same colour and with too many dog ears to count, labelled in Sasha’s familiar, loopy handwriting: battle manoeuvres, weapons and traps, edible plants, NON EDIBLE PLANTS, dangerous animals, EXTREMELY DANGEROUS ANIMALS, cool rocks-
“Did you fill in all of these?” Anne asks, genuinely impressed. Only, when she opens a random page and the words are written in a chicken scrawl she would recognize anywhere, she immediately knows. Sasha didn’t write these journals, or at least not all of them.
These are Marcy's.
Her eyes start to dampen before she knows it. At first, back on Earth, she’d had to fight back her tears while reading through Marcy’s journal for the first time. As she progressed in her researches, it had stopped affecting her so much, the ache in her heart at the thought of her friend simply motivating her to look for more information wherever she could.
This, however, is uncharted territory. These are notes Marcy took simply because that’s who she is. Her insatiable curiosity and attention to detail, her love for this dangerous world and its infinite dangers, her desire to understand how everything and anything tics.
There is life brimming in every page.
“Where did you even find these?” Anne asks. There’s a lump in her throat that’s making it difficult to speak. She’s doing her best not to let any stray tear spill on the pages. She wouldn’t want to smudge the ink, though in some points it’s kind of already blurred.
“Before we started using the tunnels, we scavenged whatever we could from town and brought everything down here. Marcy’s wagon was still in the outskirts,” Sasha begins quietly, sitting down next to Anne. She’s smiling to herself, a melancholic curl of her lips that matches the somber light in her eyes.
“There was so much stuff in there. Potions and gadgets and knickknacks, you name it and she had it. All those journals I have here? Found them under her bed. A few were already filled with every possible information one could find about the local wildlife, and they were super helpful when we first had to scrape around for food and water.” She gestures to the ones that talk about animals and plants. “I only wrote down the titles to recognize them better. I started keeping records of anything that seemed important in the blank ones, like battle tactics and stuff like that. It’s really nothing much.”
Sasha pauses, her gaze growing distant. She runs the tip of her finger over the back of one of the notepads. “It also made me feel like... I dunno, that she was here somehow. Helping out. Talking my ear off about giant killer bugs or whatever.”
Anne gets it. She’d avoided opening Marcy’s journal like the plague for the first couple of days back on Earth, unable to even touch it without an awful gaping sensation spreading through her stomach. When she’d begun to research ways to travel back to Amphibia, though, she couldn’t pretend that she didn’t need whatever note or theory Marcy may have jotted down about the box. And once she’d managed to psyche herself up enough to start reading through it, it was almost like having Marcy herself leaning over her shoulder, not only rambling on and on about Amphibian lore and prophecies and the properties of each gem, but also explaining her point of view.
Marcy had not expected for the box to work, but she flourished in Newtopia, was offered all the adventures she could ask for on a silver platter, and couldn’t see she was being lulled in a sense of false security. She was lying when she told Anne that she didn’t mind if she left with the Plantars before they started their quests for the temples. She’d been hopeful when Andrias had offered to take her and her friends to other dimensions, so that they could always be together. She had been ecstatic to see Sasha again, and had dedicated a whole entire page to how cool she looked with her brand new armour. She’d been so unbelievably happy the very night before they left for Newtopia, eager to go on new adventures with her two best friends.
Marcy had not deserved anything of what happened to her.
“You’re doing an awesome job, Sash,” Anne reassures her, and she truly means it. Sasha is a natural at this, and Anne is unbelievably proud of how hard she’s working. “I’m sure Marbles would love to know her notes are being useful.”
Sasha merely nods, her mouth set in a thin, grim line.
“Also... while looking around, back there, I...”
Sasha trails off, her teeth digging in her bottom lip as she kind of shrinks on herself. Anne isn’t really sure what spurs her, but on instinct she grabs Sasha’s hand in hers, thumb brushing along the coarse skin of her knuckles. Sasha freezes, blinking owlishly at their joined hands and then up at Anne, her pupils wide and soft. Her gaze steadies, one last trembling breath puffing through her teeth before she leans to the side.
She reaches under her pillow and gently turns Anne’s hand in hers so that it’s facing the ceiling. A moment later, she delicately drops something in the middle of her palm.
A pink seashell pin.
“Oh,” Anne exhales, because really, she’s at a loss for words. How one tiny shell can carry so much weight, she doesn’t know, but it feels like there’s a boulder sitting in her open hand.
“It was in one of the drawers. I don’t know if she forgot it, or maybe it’s just a spare she didn’t need. It’s kind of silly, but... I’ve been holding it under my pillow ever since.”
Sasha smiles wistfully down at the pin. She was holding it so gently earlier, too, between thumb and forefinger as if it may break at any moment. “It was the one thing in one piece. You know how many capes I found that had the bottom completely burned off?”
Anne laughs despite herself. It’s strained, even to her own ears. “Yeah, don’t know how they kept catching on fire either,” she says, her heart twisting around the words. She wipes fresh tears from her eyes before they can fall. “But hey. That’s our Mar-Mar.”
“That’s our Mar-Mar all right.” Sasha chuckles, a strange quality to her voice that Anne can’t recall having heard in forever. Not since Sasha had fallen from a tree and opened a deep gash in her arm. Her scared, wobbly voice had scared Anne and Marcy half to death, because Sasha was never afraid of anything, and most importantly, she never cried.
“You really think she’s okay?”
“She has to be,” Sasha insists, her words just slightly wavering. “I overheard Andrias talking about a... rejuvenation tank, I think he called it? Whatever it is, he wanted Marcy alive. If he needs her for something, she must have survived. I... I have to believe she survived, Anne, I have to.”
“That’s what I’ve been telling myself, too,“ Anne admits, sadly. But the sight of Marcy’s wide, glassy eyes, her hand just barely reaching out for Anne’s, is burned in the back of her eyelids and probably will forever be. “God, Sash, I don’t think I’ve ever seen her looking so scared. When she fell it felt like... like she was fading, right in front of me.”
“I’m sorry,” Sasha murmurs, her shoulders hunched. “I keep thinking about that day and asking myself why I wasn’t faster, or stronger, or... literally anything that could’ve allowed me to get to her in time.”
Anne sighs, staring aimlessly at the tiny, fragile seashell in her palms. “There was nothing we could have done.”
She hears Sasha let out a trembling exhale. When she turns to look at her, her jaw is clenched tight. “No. That’s not true. I was the one holding the line, if I hadn’t been so weak-“
“Sash, he’s a giant newt the size of Godzilla, what were you supposed to do?”
“No, no no no, Anne, you don’t get it. It’s not just that.” Sasha shakes her head vehemently, crumpling the hem of her tunic in her fingers. “It’s my fault. Everything. Toad Tower, the coup, Marcy being hurt by that monster. It’s all my fault.”
“You and Grime were the only ones that knew what he was up to. You tried to warn us and... and I went for your throat,” Anne tries to placate her, placing a hand on her shoulder. Sasha gently shrugs it off, but Anne isn’t done. “We all made mistakes. If I’d listened to you-“
“That’s just it,” Sasha spits out, her teeth gritted in a pained grimace. “You can’t be blamed for not listening to me. You were only starting to trust me again and I messed it all up. Like I always do, when it comes to our friendship.”
She sits back, legs crossed in front of her, putting some distance between them. She doesn’t tear her gaze away from the wall near the entrance of the cave, refusing to look at Anne, or maybe simply unable to. Her words are bitter and unforgiving, carrying a particular brand of self-loathing that sounds terrifyingly ingrained in her speech. She wonders how long Sasha must have repeated them to herself ever since that day.
“You were right not to trust me, on top of the Gates. I didn’t give you any reason to. And before the Gates, there was Toad Tower. Before Toad Tower there was... like, our whole lives. I’ve never been able to do anything more than making you feel like you didn’t matter. And you know what the worst part is?”
Sasha glares down at her hands, bunched into fists in her lap. Her knuckles are white. Anne is pretty sure she’s drawing blood from her palms.
“I couldn’t even see it. I was so wrapped up in my own idea of... knowing better. Knowing what was best for us and thinking that you and Marcy were fine with it, without ever really listening to you. Just because I was having fun, I couldn’t see that I was being... the most horrible, selfish, pretentious idiot on the planet. And nothing I’ll ever do will be able to make up for that, and- and I’m okay with that, really, but Anne, you have to know.”
Sasha whips her head around and her blue eyes are filled to the brim with tears. She doesn’t bother wiping them away, instead she just looks straight at Anne, her face twisted with regret and sorrow.
“I’m so sorry. I couldn’t see I was hurting you. I could never help you, not in any way that really mattered. God knows, I couldn’t even save Marcy-” her voice breaks on the last syllable and that’s when the tears begin to spill. Sasha hangs her head down, her hair obscuring her face. She brings her hands to cover her eyes, curling on herself. “She was... so close. So, so close, and Andrias was standing there, barking orders like he hadn’t just stabbed her and she was down on the floor and I left her there and- and... god, I...”
The heels of Sasha’s hands are digging into her eyes so hard that they must hurt. Her voice is laced with venom when she spits out a single sentence that chills Anne’s heart to the core:
“I wish it had been me.“
No.
No .
Anne slaps Sasha’s arms out of the way and scrambles forward to pull her in. “Anne, what-?“ Sasha yelps, surprised, her hands flying to Anne’s waist to stop her momentum from making them both tip over. Immediately, she tries to pull away.
Yeah, fat chance. Anne wraps her arms around her neck and holds fast, squeezing her eyes tightly. She doesn’t want to hear it. She is not going to hear it. “Shut up and let me hug you,” she hisses, right next to Sasha’s ear. She’s almost completely climbed in her lap, but she doesn’t really care at this point. The closer she can be to knock some sense in Sasha’s thick skull, the better. “Don’t say that, you hear me? Don’t you ever, ever say that again.”
It takes her a couple of seconds, but then Sasha’s arms go from trying to pry herself away to circling around Anne’s waist, her palms curled tightly into the back of her shirt. Her breath hitches once, twice, and just like that, Sasha is sobbing, burying her face in the crook of Anne’s neck to smother her own tears.
Anne sinks her teeth into her bottom lip, trying to keep it together. In the few hugs they shared since Anne came back, Sasha always held onto her as if she was made of glass. Now, she clings to Anne with all her strength, like she could disappear again at any moment.
“You’re right,” Anne says, after a while. “You did mess up.”
Sasha completely freezes up in her arms. Her shoulders hunch and she stiffly tries to pull away, but Anne just hugs her tighter, shifting her hand to cup the back of Sasha’s head and guide her to hide her face more comfortably in the curve of her shoulder.
“Wait, wait, let me finish. It’s true, you messed up, big time, and yeah, maybe I should be mad at you. And I am, actually, a part of me is still furious with you. But you know what? I don't want to be.”
Anne is tired of fighting. She’s tired of the Sasha-and-Marcy shaped hole in her heart. She just wants her best friends back.
“Remember what I told you in the third temple?” Anne whispers, carding her fingers through dense blonde hair. “You’re stupidly brave. You’re inspiring, and charismatic. You’re the strongest person I know. It’s actually kind of annoying, you know, I had to work my butt off to get the townsfolk to tolerate me and here you are, transforming them in a well-trained army in just a couple of months. You think they’d give you any time of day if you hadn’t earned their respect?”
Sasha makes a noise of protest. “They only trusted me because you’d vouched for-“
“No, nuh-uh, Anne talking time. Zip it.” Anne cuts her off and, to her credit, Sasha’s mouth snaps shut with a click. “Point is: you were a jerk, yeah, but you’ve been working on it. You’re changing because you want to, not because someone told you to or to gain something from it. You know it’s the right thing to do, and you’re doing a pretty great job at it, by the way.”
It's only as she says it out loud that Anne realizes how true her words are. Sasha is changing. Sasha is trying. And, apparently, the only persona that doesn't see it is Sasha herself.
“You never give up on anything, right? So, don’t give up on yourself. You don’t have to be perfect at it, just as long as you keep trying. Do you want to keep trying?” Sasha immediately gives a firm, eager nod, gently squeezing her arms around Anne’s waist for emphasis. “Then I believe in you. Simple as that.”
Sasha is very still, very quiet. When she shakes her head, the only reason Anne notices is because they’re pressed flush against each other. “You should hate me,” Sasha says, dejected.
“Yeah, well, I don’t, so you better make it worth my while, Waybright.” Anne grins, playfully knocking her knuckles over the back of her head. “The frogs here have given you another chance. I’m giving you another chance. It’s about time you did that, too, don’t you think?”
There’s no immediate answer. Anne waits patiently, allowing her words to sink in. She doesn’t mind waiting, she’s more than willing to repeat everything she said if she had to. They’ve got time.
“Okay,” Sasha says, at long last. She has to clear her throat, because she’s so choked up that she can barely get the words out. “Okay, I will.”
Anne sighs, closing her eyes. She rubs her hand up and down Sasha’s strong back, coaxes her to lean closer still. “You’ve got such a good heart, Sash,”. She can feel it thrum under her palm, between Sasha’s shoulder blades. A quick beat, probably due to the crying, but powerful and reassuring all the same. “You just... kind of forgot how to use it properly.”
Sasha lets out a wet chuckle. She sniffles, hooking her chin over Anne’s shoulder. “Thanks, Anne. I won’t let you down.”
Anne smiles, a sudden, fluttery felling in her chest making her giddy. “I know you won’t. And, to be fair, it wasn’t always bad.” She pulls back, slowly, not entirely ready to let go of Sasha just yet, and begins counting down on her fingers. “ You think I forgot how many times I got to keep my lunch because you protected me from bullies? Or all the piggyback rides you gave Marcy to and from the library? Oh, oh, and when you told off some jerk that was making fun of my mom’s accent and then you spent the afternoon asking her how to pronounce correctly the names of Thai food? She talked about it nonstop over dinner.”
Bloodshot eyes grow wide in surprise. “Really?”
“Totally, dude. She was so happy, you have no idea.”
Sasha mulls it over, her face surprisingly sheepish. It doesn’t last long, though. Slowly, her mouth stretches in a smirk that Anne has seen more times than she could count over the years: the one that makes her look like mischief personified. “Plot twist,” Sasha chuckles, giving Anne the cheekiest wink imaginable. “I was only trying to get some alone time with your mom-”
NOPE.
She has barely finished the sentence that Anne is shoving her on her back and swatting at every part of her she can reach. She ends up grabbing the pillow from the head of the cot and smashes it on Sasha’s head, repeatedly. “What the heck is wrong with you?!” she shrieks, but her cheeks hurt because she’s smiling too hard. “I was trying to be wholesome!”
Sasha weakly raises her arms to protect her head from the onslaught of blows. She does a pretty poor job at it, but it’s only because she’s laughing too hard to care. “Owowowow- what?! She’s got it going on, dude, it’s not my fault- OW!”
“Find someone your age!”
“Okay, maybe I will, geez!”
Anne huffs, dropping the pillow over Sasha’s face and rolling off her. She discards the fur cape to the side, too flustered now to handle how warm it is, and leans with her back against the wall, arms stubbornly folded in front of herself.
Sasha is still giggling breathlessly, her arms draped over her stomach and her chest heaving slightly. Her cheeks are dusted with a pretty shade of red, and she’s peering at Anne upside down, practically beaming up at her. Her hair fans around her head in a halo of dark gold.
Looking at her makes Anne feel like she’s swallowed a mouthful of bees, a pleasant warmth simmering to life in her stomach. Her ears are hot. She’s too spent to even attempt to figure out what it all means, her brain completely fried from the emotional whiplashes she’s been going through the whole evening.
“I hate you,” she says, instead, stubbornly turning her head when Sasha pulls herself up and slinks backwards, resting back against the rock as well. “And I hate that my mom would probably laugh if she heard that.”
“She would. Did you know you both pose the same way when you’re mad?” Sasha teases, laughter clear in her voice, pinching softly Anne’s arm right below the hem of her sleeve. “The whole... lifted chin, arms crossed thingy...”
“Keep talking and I’m smothering you with your cape.”
“It’s cute.”
“And I’m sticking this pillow up your nose.”
Sasha lifts her hands in surrender, the smirk on her face ever present. Anne sticks her tongue out at her, and Sasha does the same, and they keep each other at a stalemate until Anne breaks into a helpless fit of laughter and Sasha follows suit.
The silence that falls after that is comfortable, relaxing even, and it makes Anne realise just how completely worn out she feels. If she was already tired at the beginning of the evening, now her eyelids feel like they’re made of lead.
She’s on her third jaw-splitting yawn when Sasha places a delicate hand on her shoulder. “Sleepy?” she asks, exhaling tiredly when Anne nods around another yawn. “Yeah, tell me about it.”
“Do you have trouble sleeping, too?”
“Yup. I mean, more time to organize battle plans, so it’s not like it’s time gone to waste. I could do without the occasional migraines, though, those are a pain.”
“One time I was laying down and my heart just randomly started racing,” Anne recalls, shuddering at the memory of her pulse hammering in her ears for no reason at all. She’d really thought she was having a heart attack. “But I also couldn’t sleep, so really, I don’t get what my body wants from me.”
“I get, what, one hour of sleep every night, maybe two? It’s better than what it was when we were just starting out, though.” Sasha runs a hand in her hair, stretching her arm back until her spine gives a light pop. “Lost count of all the times Grime found me passed out in the middle of the war room.”
Anne whistles lowly. “We’re messed up pretty bad.”
“Story of our lives. The others felt it, too. Everyone still gets a bit cranky, sometimes, especially since we moved in the tunnels. Can’t blame them when they’re used to the fresh air of the Valley and, well, the actual sun.”
“I get that. I mean, last night? After we blew out the lantern it was pitch black in our room except for the glow of the mushrooms in the hallway.” Anne jabs her thumb at one of the fungal growths that work as natural lamps for the tunnels system. They’re prime horror movie lighting material, all neon yellow and creepy as they come, but they do their job right. “Pretty sure that if you stare at them for too long you start hallucinating.”
Sasha laughs, turning slightly to her side to rub her finger along the cap of the cluster closest to her.
“There are entire pages about these in Marcy’s journals. She’s always loved this stuff. Remember how hyper she was when you put glow-in-the-dark stars in your room?”
“She thought they were the coolest thing.” Seven year old Marcy had raved for months about the plastic stars on the ceiling of Anne’s bedroom. Once, she’d jumped on Anne’s bed so high trying to touch them that she’d missed the landing and ended up with a nasty bruise all over the side of her face. Anne’s mom had come to the rescue with some ointment, a gentle but firm reminder to be careful, and reassuring hands wiping her tears before sending her on her way. Then Anne and Sasha had dragged her to play knights and dragons with them, and the accident was forgotten. “And that one time we went stargazing and played the game of who could spot the most constellations...
Sasha chuckles, clapping her hands in delight. “You and I were getting heated over the Big and Little Dippers and she came through with... what was it... that Camel-something something.”
Anne laughs along. She remembers that day like it was yesterday. She still didn’t understand how that bunch of stars were supposedly making up the shape of a giraffe, or any realistic shape at all to be honest, but it hadn’t mattered at the time because Marcy had been so adorably excited that Anne had spent most of the night looking at her instead of the sky. “We honestly thought we had a chance against her.”
“We were doomed from the get go.” Sasha’s smile is tender, her head tilted back on the wall behind her. “God, I miss her.”
“Me too.” Anne puffs out her chest, determination flaring in her gut. “We’re saving her.”
“We are,” Sasha readily agrees, no shade of doubt in her voice. “Whatever it takes. Beating Andrias to a pulp has been on my bucket list for a while, anyway.”
“Leave some for me,” Anne grumbles. “I’m already a fugitive in one world. If someone wants to throw me in jail for kicking an old king’s butt, it’s not gonna make much of a difference.”
The silence that follows stretches out for so long that Anne actually thinks Sasha has fallen asleep. When she turns to check, she’s actually met with the single most bewildered expression she’s ever seen on Sasha’s face.
“You’re what?”
“Oh, yeah,” Anne laughs, scratching her cheek. She grins nervously at Sasha, waving her hand like it’s no big deal at all. “It’s kind of a long story, but I’m, like... wanted? By the FBI?”
“........ you’re what?”
Anne regrets not having her phone on hand, because the expressions Sasha pulls for the next hour or so would make excellent memes that could haunt her for years to come. They end up piling every blanket and cloak Sasha has lying around in her room behind their backs to rest more comfortably against the rock wall, and the resulting nest reminds Anne of the unnecessarily big couch in the middle of Sasha’s living room, the one that looks like it’s never used unless Anne and Marcy happen to sleep over.
It’s an imprecise amount of time later, when something wispy and very much blonde tickles her cheek, that Anne groggily blinks her eyes open and realises she’d fallen asleep. The last thing she recalls is grinning at Sasha’s impressed and slightly terrified expression while she told her of the army of kindergarteners she sicced on Dr. Frakes.
(“That is, like, one of those irrational fears you don’t know you have until you hear about it.”
“Eh, could have been worse.”
“How? What’s worse than being trampled by a horde of toddlers?”
“I dunno, like... being trampled by a horde of toddlers and they’re all holding grenades?”
“.... that’d be a great distraction actually, hold on, let me write it down.”
“Sasha. No.”
“What? You’re telling me that Polly wouldn’t?”
“I’m telling you that Polly would, now put that pen down.”)
It could be the middle of the night or early morning for all she knows, there’s no real way to tell. Everything is quiet beyond the curtain at the entrance of Sasha’s room, though, so everyone must still be asleep.
Sasha certainly is, at least. She’s snuggled up against Anne’s side, her head on her shoulder and Anne’s right hand in hers. She must have grabbed it at some point while they slept, and she’s holding it in an loose, warm grip, their fingers linked and palms aligned. Her hair is mussed up in pretty waves, falling in front of her face. She had dragged her cape over their legs earlier, but now it’s bunched up under their chins like a proper blanket.
It’s the cosiest Anne has felt in a while.
And yet, something – someone – is still missing.
She fishes in her left pocket for the pink seashell. She'd pocketed it while she and Sasha were talking, afraid to lose it while they were moving around the blankets and cloaks. She is going to give it back to Sasha as soon as she wakes up, but for now she feels the need to hold onto it for as long as possible.
Sasha hums in her sleep and shifts, her head lolling back until the fine slope of her nose is perfectly bracketing the curve of Anne’s jaw. Anne yawns, lets her eyes succumb to the inviting pull of slumber, and rests her head atop soft blonde strands. She breathes in the scent of Sasha’s skin, earthy and clean, and allows her thoughts to drift.
She can see it clearly. Marcy would hog Sasha’s cape all for herself, and curl up in a ball until she all but disappeared against Anne’s side, ever sensitive to even the slightest chill. Anne can almost feel the phantom weight of her head on her free shoulder and Marcy’s hand twitching in hers, fidgety even in her sleep.
Instead of her hand, all Anne can hold onto for now is that tiny, pink seashell. It’s not enough, but it’s something.
Hold on a little longer, Marbles. We’re coming for you, and we’re going home. Together.
Anne falls asleep, and dreams about far away stars, and vibrant pink skies at dawn, and verdant fields of soft grass extending beyond what her eyes can see.
She dreams of nothing in particular at all.
It’s the first full night of sleep she’s had in a long while.