Nothing Good Starts in a Getaway Car

by Sapphic_Jezus

Summary:

✨️ON HIATUS bc I suck✨️

"Marcy had sent them a picture of the music box. The stupid frog box that weighed down her bag until she could dispose of it when she got home.

The box that they'd almost opened when Marcy had stopped them. Why had she stopped them? Nervously, Anne had thrown the box into the furthest corner of her wardrobe..."

Or,

What if Anne didn't open the music box? What if the worst case scenario was true? What if Anne, Marcy and Sasha had run away?

Warning: This gets pretty angsty before it gets better.

TL;DR : Amphibia Runaways/Human AU

Notes:

The first chapter is inspired wholly on my attempt to run away when I was 11 when I wore my older siblings clothes to hide myself and packed my favourite plush, £5, three chocolate bars and an apple juice carton.
Anne's letter is an adaptation of the letter I wrote.

Chapter 1: Prologue (Pilot)

Summary:

Credits to @Starscay on Tumblr for helping me name this fic. It was a whole thing.

Mom and Dad.

 

In the dead of night, heavy heart pounding like a captive bird, she tiptoed through the darkness. Every step was a desperate whisper of escape from the haunting of doubt that pursued her. The silence wrapped around her like a weighted blanket, drawing out her movements sluggishly, punctuated only by the hushed creak of floorboards beneath her feet. 

 

Anne's gaze lingered on the staircase, where the soft glow of moonlight cast elongated shadows across the steps and dusted over the form of her sleeping cat.

 

The muted breaths of her slumbering parents, oblivious, echoed above her thoughts.

 

I love u both sm and this is not ur fault.

 

Doubts gnawed at her resolve, planting seeds of fear that tangled into thorns in her lungs. When would they wake up? What would they do? She'd left a note. She didn't know what to write. 

 

As she slipped on her yellow sneakers, their vibrant hue momentarily illuminated in the dark, she couldn't help but wring her hands, toying avoidantly with the door in her peripheral. With each careful step, she inched closer and closer. 

 

Anne sighed, it seemed insurmountable, the prospect of leaving everything behind sent shivers down her spine, intertwining with the tendrils of fear that gripped her tightly. 

 

But as she stood on the precipice of her escape, Sasha's presence just a breath away, a flicker of determination ignited within Anne's trembling soul. She knew what she had to do.

 

Me, Marcy and Sasha are ok. We hve run away.

 

She grasped her overpopulated keys in her palm and slid them into the pocket of her bag. She'd need them soon enough, she was sure of it.

 

But I hv to do this for them.

 

"Do it for them." She spoke finally, allowing a breath to slow her pacing heart. She held the door handle gently, making sure to apply pressure in just the right ways so that the door held its tongue as well as she did. 

 

"Anne." Sasha greeted clumsily. 

 

Sasha stood by the door, donning a pair of worn-out ripped jeans that clung to her like a second skin and a black denim jacket with red sleeves that adorned her shoulders, armour; Anne decided, while a vibrant pink hooded jacket, that had been zipped right to the top, peeked out from beneath.

 

Her face was a smoothie of indifference and palpable nerves, painting an unfamiliar portrait of fright onto the Scare Dare Champion that did nothing to slow Anne's own quaking. 

 

With a hesitant yet genuine look in her eyes, Sasha reached out to Anne, offering an unexpected lifeline, and played with a frayed string on the arm of Anne's grey school hoodie. In a voice that trembled ever so slightly, she softly spoke. 

 

"Anne. You don't have to do this… but if you do there's no going back." She stopped, contemplative.

"Here's your out. There's no more time to think it over. We leave and that's that. End. Of. Discussion." Sasha spoke those familiar words openly, as though Anne really had a choice, but they lingered and set her bones like commands. 

 

I don't wanna.

 

The weight of Sasha's words hung in the air, a fragile thread that threatened to unravel the plans they had meticulously woven. It was an act of compassion, at least at face value, but Anne shook her head anyway and pulled her backpack tighter over her shoulder.

 

"Alright. Then I guess let's go." Sasha shrugged. 

 

Anne and Sasha squeezed onto Anne's bike. The absence of Sasha's bike, which had been stolen, defaced and then thrown in a river, danced macabre in Anne's mind like an omen.

 

But I have to do it for them. I have to bring them home.

 

The mantra bounced about in Anne's head while she pedalled toward Marcy's house. Sasha's grasp was stronger than usual. If they both were so scared, why were they so sure it was the right choice? 

 

Before she could question it further, Sasha broke her thoughts with a whisper. 

 

"There she is." Sasha pointed to Marcy, sat on the curb at the corner of the street by her house. Far enough away that if her parents woke up, they wouldn't notice her quickly. So they really were doing this. Anne swallowed again but turned to stop her bike near Marcy.

 

Marcy's own sage bike sat a foot or so away from her, propped haphazardly against a broken streetlight. Omen after omen had presented itself. How had they come to this anyway? 

 

The music box. Sasha had convinced Anne to skip class to celebrate her birthday. She really wished she'd said no and stuck to it because maybe then they wouldn't be leaving. 

 

Marcy had sent them a picture of the music box. The stupid frog box that weighed down her bag until she could dispose of it when she got home. 

 

The box that they'd almost opened when Marcy had stopped them. Why had she stopped them? Nervously, Anne had thrown the box into the furthest corner of her wardrobe and hoped desperately that her mother didn't notice it. 

 

"Hey Anna-Banana, Sashy." Marcy greeted in a whispered dejection. She looked worse for wear, like she had been crying, with puffy eyes and a running nose. 

 

Sitting on the pavement, Marcy tightly shut her journal. A faux leather brownish-maroon notepad defaced with stickers and doodles. Another new one; Anne realised quickly. Her trademark green skirt and middle school hooded jacket had been replaced by a pair of navy jeggings that Anne recognised as Sasha's, their length expertly folded at the ankle to accommodate Marcy's shorter frame and an oversized black hoodie that Anne was sure belonged to Marcy's father. 

 

The change in attire, though a departure from her usual style, only amplified the reality of the situation. It wasn't a makeover; like the ones Sasha and Marcy would give that lead to her mother hiding all scissors in their house. No, it was a disguise. 

 

As Anne and Sasha approached, Marcy rose from the pavement, an unreadably complex glint in her eyes. She flung her arms around Sasha, curling her fingers through the loose hair of Sasha's ponytail. With a tender smile and open arms, Marcy turned towards Anne and dragged her into the embrace

 

"What's the plan, Marbles?" Sasha beckoned the smaller girl to speak. Checking over her shoulder at Marcy's house, the blonde seemed reluctant. Thoughtful. The gaze made Anne hopeful in a deep way she couldn't, or wouldn't, prescribe words to.

 

"Most essentially? Leave. The buses only run hourly until seven AM so we've got another maybe twenty minutes before that. It might be a good idea to move to a further bus stop just in case my parents… you know. Worst case scenario we miss this bus and walk to a further stop within the hour interval." Marcy rambled on. Usually her thoughtful preparation was endearing but it laid on Anne like a dumbbell in her stomach as she wrung her hands nervously. 

 

"Okay." Sasha spoke softly. Sasha was off, somehow, in a way that Anne couldn't place. The nerves were something Anne had seen decreasing over the years but had seen nonetheless. This was new. Shifting to the other girl, Anne absorbed Marcy's mirror expression. She wondered if she looked the same. 

 

As if the night itself held its breath, afraid to disturb the eerie lull that engulfed them, the bitter city air refused to enter Anne's lungs. Anne's stomach churned with what she dismissively labelled as hunger and the cold night air bit at her skin.

 

We'll be back home, soon. Together.

 

As they pedalled onward towards the next bus stop, Anne could feel the weight on her shoulders. Sasha's grip on the bag, where she'd packed all the fragments of her life that she could fit, was firm, snagging her shirt in a death grip, almost to the point of being painful, her fingers white-knuckled with fear. The palpable terror emanating from Sasha reverberated through the entire group, sending shivers down Anne's spine. 

 

Yet, amidst the tension, Marcy smiled softly and it broke through like a ray of light. It was a bittersweet, courageous and joyful. Her smile, though perhaps forced, carried a flicker of hope, a small flame of determination that refused to be extinguished.

 

Do it for them. Anne reminded herself. 

 

Love, your daughter , 

Anne <3

Chapter 2: Say you'll never let 'em tear us apart

Notes:

Sorry this has taken a while to post, I am such a procrastinator. As always, let me know your thoughts.

A week had passed since their escape, a tumultuous span of time marked by road sign after road sign. 

 

Anne despised the word "missing"; it carried an uncertainty she knew was untrue. They weren't missing like when girls their age were taken away and never seen again. They could just turn around.

 

They could. Anne knew where they were, how far home was. 

 

She hated to think about it. Her mother had probably read and reread her note a million times already. 

 

Underneath the shelter of a bridge Anne rested tensely, finding solace in the presence of Marcy; at least she wasn't alone. Marcy's head nestled against Anne's side, her soft sighs offered a brief distraction from the weight on her chest. Her other side, the one where Sasha's pink bag sat, felt cold. 

 

White hot blood coursed through her veins as she awaited Sasha's return. Time seemed to stretch endlessly, intensifying the nerves that coiled within her. The forest that surrounded them felt ominous, its dense foliage and gnarled trees cast sinister shadows to dance in the dim light. The rustle of leaves and the occasional hoot of an owl conducted a disconcerting symphony.

 

"Totally not scary at all." Anne remarked into the air. 

 

As Anne's gaze flitted between the darkened forest and the space where Sasha's return was anticipated, she clung to a fragile hope. She longed for the familiar figure of Sasha emerging from the trees, carrying firewood that would bring warmth and light to their hidden refuge.

 

Yet even as Anne's worry intensified, she somehow found herself succumbing to the brief moment of respite. Allowing herself a second to breathe, she let the harsh reality crash into her consciousness like an unforgiving train. She took a tentative look at her own appearance in the black of her phone screen.

 

Her hair was a messy tangle of curls and leaves. Sasha had only brushed out the forest growing in her hair a few hours ago. She was taken aback at how much older she looked. Like time had warped itself and laced years of age under her eyes in purple crescents.

 

Her clothes, once familiar and comforting, were now damp and torn, the fabric clung to her skin, and her shoe, she wasn't sure she'd ever figure out what happened to the other one, was caked in mud and tinted green by river water from a shortcut Marcy was 'one hundo percent' certain was safe. A pang of sadness reverberated within her as she noticed the absence of the "SJMS" emblem that had once innocently embellished her jacket.

 

Sasha, scared it would have served as a beacon, had replaced the missing emblem with a makeshift patch, an awkward and haphazard addition crafted from torn cloth salvaged from Sasha's shredded cheerleader skirt. Anne had remarked that the patch was probably more noticeable with its misplaced vibrancy but Sasha had shut her down.

 

Sasha and Marcy too had bits and pieces of the skirt scattered across their outfits and Anne felt her chest crumble. 

 

Sasha loved cheerleading. 

 

"Hey, Boonchuy," Almost as though Anne had manifested the girl herself, Sasha's voice reached Anne's ears, carrying with it a tinge of weariness and a shiver that wasn't entirely cold.

 

Anne's heart ached as she took in the sight of Sasha. Sasha's hair, no longer in its usual style, cascaded around her shoulders, loosely covering half of her right eye in a deliberate veil of anonymity. A dirty blonde, almost brown, peaked curiously into the locks Sasha's mother always dyed gold.

 

The exhaustion etched onto Sasha's features revealed the toll their escape had taken on her. Anne wasn't sure she'd even recognise Sasha from seven days ago. 

 

"Hey, Sash." Anne started, "Are you okay, dude? I totally thought you weren't coming back for a minute there." 

 

"Girl, c'mon, I'm fine, I just wish this bridge wasn't surrounded by god damn rivers." Sasha grumbled, forcing a dry laugh, and settled herself by the fading orange fire. With deft hands, she carefully fed the fire the meagre collection of dry sticks she had managed to scavenge. 

 

Anne's gaze shifted towards Sasha, a flush of warmth creeping up her cheeks as she observed the endearing sight before her, which she blamed on the fast growing heat of the starving fire. 

 

Legs crossed and tongue poking between her lips in concentration, Sasha exuded an unexpected charm that Anne couldn't help but find… she wasn't even sure how it made her feel. Warm. Sasha's actions were a delicate ballet of focus and determination, as if coaxing life back into the dwindling flames. Anne had never known Sasha to be so tender and caring until she'd been thrown face first into their ongoing sprint.

 

Sasha promptly accepted the role of leader in the way she always had before. Sasha decided what they were doing, Marcy provided information and kept them hidden.

 

But she looked so young in that moment. An image that hit Anne like a flashback. Sasha sat at a table at Thai Go colouring a picture of a dog in shades of pink and purple, careful to stay within the lines. Controlled. But the same image of her tongue loosely trapped between her teeth.

 

Anne had sat beside her, scribbling a blue crayon somewhat within the lines of a stripy cat while Marcy had forgone the colouring pages entirely, creating some sort of mythical creature that Anne couldn't name but she was sure Marcy knew every tidbit about, and hunched over her paper with green pencils Anne's mother had bought for Marcy for her eleventh birthday.

 

That day had been such a good one. Until… Anne didn't want to think about it.

 

"Why are we still out here, Sash?" Anne's voice broke the crackling silence, tinged with a mix of weariness and fear. Cautious.

"Can't we just go home?" Anne's voice cracked.

 

Sasha, seemingly unfazed by the question, continued to prod at the flames with a distant gaze. The flickering light lit a tender beam across her face, obscuring the emotions that might have resided there. With an air of mystery, she responded cryptically, nodding her flame lit hair toward their sleeping companion. 

 

"You know why," Sasha's voice carried a weight of unspoken significance, leaving the explanation hanging in the air. Anne supposed that it was enough. 

 

"I want to go home." The words slipped out unexpectedly, escaping from deep within Anne's heart and finding their way past Sasha's gritted teeth. Anne's surprise was mirrored in Sasha's eyes. 

"I miss it. My bed. Real food." Sasha clarified unconvincingly.

 

"I miss my parents. Their cooking." Anne spoke almost reluctantly.

 

"I miss school, it sounds stupid but I do." 

 

"I miss Domino." Anne waited for Sasha to reply but sighed when the silence remained unfilled. 

"And my other shoe." She tried to joke, poking carefully at the bricks stacked around Sasha with no avail.

 

The fire grew, its flickering flames radiated a warm glow that fought against the dark. Sasha, sensing the growing intensity of the fire, moved closer to them but deliberately maintained a measured distance from Anne. An unspoken barrier.

 

"I'm scared," Anne confessed, her voice carrying the words in a tremor. In that moment of vulnerability, she allowed her fears to surface, hoping that, maybe, Sasha could provide consolation amidst the uncertainty. But Sasha, ever vigilant, swiftly retreated behind her protective walls, her guard shooting back up with a resolute force.

 

"You don't have to be," Sasha responded in voice wearing the uniformed stiffness of a military commander. The words were meant to reassure, but they lacked the warmth and tenderness that Anne craved. 

 

The fire crackled, and Anne took a deep breath, drawing upon her own reserve of strength. Sasha had never been the most understanding of people but she seemed to be transforming. For better and for worse.

 

Anne couldn't help but notice that the change was making her more closed off, more guarded than ever before. The rebellious, popular girl Sasha had been felt like a distant memory, replaced by a harsher, more brutal version of herself.

 

Where there had once been a rebellious streak driven by selfishness, there now was a calculated intent to protect. Sasha's insistence on control had evolved into a means of ensuring their survival. 

 

Anne didn't like it. She found herself shocked at how deeply she missed the girl who manipulated her into skipping classes and stealing music boxes because that girl had been brighter. That girl didn't stay awake all night or skip meals because Marcy was tired or Anne was hungry.

 

On the other hand, Marcy had blossomed in the face of their escape. Free from the chains of their former lives, she embraced the vast possibilities that stretched before them. 

 

Marcy's spirit radiated with a newfound boldness, her demeanour imitating the characters in the role-playing games she loved in a way that frustrated even Anne. The world had become her oyster, and Marcy revelled in the adventure that awaited her. But it wasn't a game. They couldn't pause and come back later, something Marcy had never been prone to; too in her own world. 

 

'It's just like one of my favourite video games!' Marcy had gone on to explain the tale of two runaway brothers and superpowers and Anne had tuned out the sound as she always had War of the Warlocks.

 

Anne felt sick. 

 

"Sash?" Anne's unsure voice broke the stillness of the night, filled with concern and a hint of pleading. After a moment of thought, Sasha reluctantly nodded with a blink that lasted just too long, her gaze betraying a yearning that she quickly dismissed with a firmer nod.

 

"Come get some sleep. I'll watch out," Anne urged, her voice gentle yet insistent. She understood Sasha's desire to stand guard, just another layer in the fortress of her need for control. But Anne also recognized the fatigue etched on Sasha's face. 

 

It had been a whole week; it had only been a week.

 

Sasha's resolve seemed unyielding as she shook her head, refusing to accept Anne's offer. The determined set of her jaw spoke volumes. Anne, feeling a wave of disappointment wash over her, withdrew into herself, fidgeting with the tassels of Marcy's black hoodie.

 

She picked at her nails, still adorned with the nail polish Marcy and Sasha had carefully painted on them during lunch last Tuesday—blue, pink, white, pink, blue. It was a small but poignant reminder of who she was. How simply painting her nails had meant so much to her just a week ago.

 

As Anne traced the pattern with her fingertips, she could feel Marcy holding her hands steady, her own fingernails messily painted neon green and black because she wouldn't stay still, as Sasha's, blue blue blue, gracefully weaved under her fingers to apply the nail polish. Had that really only been a week ago? 

 

Anne took a deep breath, grappling with her conflicting emotions. She understood Sasha's need to maintain control, to keep them safe. But she was strong. Stronger than Sasha knew. 

 

Anne's eyes met Sasha's once again. 

"I'm not falling asleep this time," she asserted, her voice firm. "We can take turns standing watch. I promise I'll wake you if anything is wrong."

 

Sasha hesitated, the longing in her eyes momentarily eclipsing her stoic façade. But then, with a heavy shake of her head, she pushed it aside.

 

"No," Sasha replied, her voice laced with an unwavering conviction. "I'm standing watch." 

 

"But-" 

 

"No." Her brows furrowed. "Drop it. End. Of. Discussion."

 

Anne sighed dejectedly but relaxed further into Marcy's side. She laid her head on messy black hair and allowed herself a selfish moment to feel grateful for Sasha's insistence as her tired eyes dropped closed.

 

[...]

 

"-nne." 

 

"Anne?"

 

As Anne gradually woke, her eyes blinking against the sun's intense rays, she felt a gentle shake, and her gaze met Marcy's trademark duo of deep brown eyes and excited smile.

 

Beside them, Sasha sat, engrossed in a battle with a stubborn can of peaches that Anne had swiped from her own kitchen cabinets before their hasty departure. The limited food supplies were dwindling, only so much food could be packed within their backpacks. Why Anne hadn't thought to bring a can opener was beyond her.

 

Sasha, usually resourceful, had actually neglected to bring any food whilst Anne had packed tins and packets she'd swiped from the pantry in her home and even Marcy had thrown a few bags of chocolates and juice cartons in her bag. 

 

Anne's thoughts drifted to the small sum of money Sasha had acquired from her father's wallet. It wasn't much, and the guilt it stirred within Anne was undeniable, but she couldn't ignore its necessity. Then again, Anne had hoped they would have turned around by now. That they wouldn't wouldn't have to look at the swollen BlackPink purse Marcy had gifted Sasha for her thirteenth birthday. 

 

"Bitch." Sasha cursed and tossed the can and knife away in frustration, cradling her hand close to her chest. Anne wasn't sure if it was the word itself, or the foreign way that it painted itself on Sasha's lips, but her eyes widened a little, forcefully adjusting to her surroundings. 

 

"Sashy!" Marcy shifted slightly, which Anne registered by the crunch of pebbles and twigs, but halted suddenly. 

 

"I'm fine." Sasha dismissed in an agitated grunt.

 

"What time is it?" Anne turned back to Marcy, shifting to sit against the cold stone of the bridge. It looked different in the light of day. Graffiti, some more artistic than others, bedecked the walls between sullen cracks and towering, clinging moss. 

 

"Sasha thinks it's close to ten. My watch finally ran out so we're not really sure anymore. But looking at the sun, I think it's earlier. Closer to eight or nine at most." Marcy stated. Their phones had died within the first twenty four hours. What Anne wouldn't give to have a little music. 

 

Sasha, resigned to the stubborn can of peaches, stowed it away along with her trusty knife, exhaling a sigh of frustration. The realisation settled upon her that their lacking supplies were reaching a critical point.

 

"We're gonna have to go into the next town we come across," Sasha suggested, her voice tinged with apprehension.

 

Anne's eyes brightened at the prospect of encountering other people, the possibility of someone recognizing them. However, Marcy's expression tightened, her throat thick with unease.

 

"But... all of us?" Marcy's voice wavered, a hint of fear lacing her words. "Wouldn't that draw too much attention? If people know we're missing, then the three of us together might be more recognisable."

 

Sasha furrowed her brow, contemplating Marcy's valid concern. The silence lingered as Sasha weighed their options. 

 

"I suppose two of us could stay behind," Sasha mused, her tone thoughtful yet tinged with uncertainty. "That way, there's a backup plan if something goes wrong, a distraction maybe. But then again, the one who goes alone would be more vulnerable."

 

Marcy, who had shorn her hoodie, took a careful place next to Sasha, capitalising on her distraction and began dressing her bleeding hand. 

 

It reminded Anne of those videos where zookeepers would try to wrap particularly a deep gash on the paw of a lion that seemed passive but simultaneously on the verge of attack. Only, she was mostly sure that Sasha wouldn't tear out Marcy's jugular. Mostly.

 

Anne felt conflicted. On one hand, the idea of splitting up held its own set of risks, potentially leaving one of them isolated and exposed. Yet, the thought of being recognized as a group heightened their chances of being identified and taken back to her parents. Their parents. She mentally corrected herself.

 

"We could still go together." Sasha and Marcy quietened down their discussion to face Anne.

 

Anne's suggestion readied an apology in her throat, and she braced herself for Sasha's customary dismissal. However, to her surprise, Sasha nodded, encouraging Anne to elaborate. A strange sense of excitement sparked within Anne as she continued, her words flowed with the newfound confidence.

 

"We could all head into the town together," Anne proposed, her voice growing more animated. "But once we're there, we split up. We'll stay close enough to each other, close enough to run and regroup if needed, but not so close that it draws attention."

 

A smile graced Sasha's lips, an acknowledgement of Anne's quick thinking. "Damn, Anne," she commended, causing a rush of warmth to flood Anne's cheeks.

 

Turning her attention to Marcy, Anne eagerly awaited her response. Marcy's dark eyes betrayed her but she laughed anyway.

 

"Sure," Marcy replied with a playful sarcasm to her words. "Because nothing ever goes wrong when you split up and look for clues." Anne couldn't help but roll her eyes, a small smile tugging at the corners of her mouth.

 

They gathered their things into their now much lighter bags and started down an eroded grass path away from the bridge.

 

As Sasha walked a few steps ahead, the hot air was heavy with tension, causing Anne and Marcy's intertwined hands to tighten silently. Sasha's actions revealed a restlessness, her pent-up energy finding release in the idle act of kicking a stray pebble along the eroded path. The pebble careened through the air, colliding with a lamppost, its hollow echo reverberating so loud that Sasha seemed to recoil.

 

Sasha's gaze instinctively lifted, fixing on the lamppost, and a sudden stillness overcame her. Time seemed to freeze as her eyes locked onto something. Anne and Marcy, attuned to Sasha's shift, halted in their tracks, their eyes following Sasha's gaze.

 

Above them, hanging from the lamppost, tattered and weathered but fresh, missing posters fluttered in the breeze.

 

Sasha's eyes locked onto the two missing posters hanging one above the other and an unease settled over the trio. The first poster described an Anne Boonchuy from a time so long ago, her age, ethnicity, and attire meticulously detailed, with a picture capturing her essence frozen in time on the very first bus they'd stepped on. Sasha's hand trembled as it brushed against the corner of Anne's picture.

 

Her attention shifted to the second poster. Marcy Wu. The details were of the exact precision of Anne's description so Sasha was certain Mr Wu had made them. Sasha was visible within the image, half of her face cut off. A heavy curse slipped from Sasha's lips, mingling with a mixture of frustration and concern.

 

"Shit. They know what we're wearing," Sasha mumbled, her voice laden with the weight of realisation. Anne, still grappling with the unfamiliarity of the language, found her heart sinking with the awareness that they were being actively searched for, their appearances now etched in the minds of those who longed for their return. Her mom and dad tearing through her wardrobe to see what she could be wearing. The stupid box nestled at the back. 

 

Turning her gaze back to her own missing poster, Anne's eyes traced the words penned by her mother's desperate plea. The ache in her chest deepened. 

 

'We are not mad. We love you, please come home. The three of you.'  

 

I'm trying, mom.

 

Anne's eyes shifted back and forth between her own missing poster, Marcy's, and the conspicuous absence of Sasha's. Confusion mingled with a tinge of worry was gnawing at her thoughts. Why didn't Sasha have a poster alongside theirs?

 

Memories of Sasha's previous runaway attempts resurfaced, the first being when they were only ten years old. Anne vividly recalled the frantic calls from Sasha's mother, her desperate voice pleading for any information that could lead to Sasha's safe return. Sasha had shown up a day later at Anne's house and had refused to talk about it since.

 

Yet, as Anne let herself sink into the past, she realised that Sasha's relationship with her own family had undergone significant changes. The Waybrights, once an integral part of Sasha's life, had moved on after the divorce. New children had entered the picture, and the bond between Sasha and her former family seemed to have dwindled. Not that Sasha would talk about it.

 

"My mom too…?" Sasha squeaked out so quietly that Anne almost missed it.

 

"Sash…" Anne spoke, sliding her gaze toward Marcy who was scrawling notes in her diary.

 

Anne had always had a deeper connection with her parents than Sasha or Marcy had but Anne couldn't help the twist in her stomach. 

 

"We can't stay in these clothes." Sasha decided. "Your faces are probably in all the newspapers by now." 

 

Sasha turned to the fence of a house they were at the back of. Clothing on a washing line waved to her in the morning sun. Perfect. 

 

Sasha climbed up a dumpster and peeked over the fence carefully. The house was quiet and the curtains were drawn.

 

"What are you doing?" Anne whispered in accusation as Sasha leaned over the fence and tugged at three small enough looking shirts. 

 

Sasha's eyes flickered with desperation as she continued to tug at the clothing hanging on the line. 

"Sash, we can't just take someone else's clothes!" Anne whispered, her voice burning with accusation. Marcy, too, stepped closer, perching her palms on the plastic of the green dumpster; hesitant.

 

"Sasha!" Anne whisper shouted again.

 

Sasha paused for a moment, glancing at her friends with a conflicted expression. She didn't want to do this. She wanted to listen to Anne and shift down to the ground. With a resolute sigh, she leaned back over the fence.

 

"We don't have much of a choice," Sasha replied, her voice low but firm. "We can't risk being recognised. We need to blend in, at least for now."

 

Anne and Marcy exchanged a glance. While the ethical dilemma twisted in her stomach, Anne approached the fence, her voice laden with cautious determination. "Okay, but let's make it quick. We don't want to risk getting caught."

 

Sasha's face softened and she gave the material one last heave, spinning her arms to keep balance when the clothes finally came loose. She lost her footing and landed in the arms of her readied friends.

 

"Real smooth, Sash."

 

"Hey now, even the most coordinated of us have our off days," Sasha replied, playfully defending herself, and brushed invisible dust from her shoulders... "I can't let Marbles have all the fun, right?"

 

Marcy joined in the banter, her grin widening. "Exactly! Sasha just put all of her points into strength. We all have our own skill sets. It's what makes us a dynamic trio."

 

"We did sleep in a cave." Marcy's face beamed at Sasha's remark. 

 

"Was that a Batman reference? From Sasha Elizabeth 'I literally don't care' Waybright? Marcy, catch me, I'm gonna pass out." Anne threw the back of her hand against her temple and dramatically launched herself into Marcy's arms.

 

"It counts more as a tunnel than a cave but-" 

 

Sasha, in what Anne thought was an attempt to gain composure, threw two sets of the shirts at them.

 

As they completed their quick wardrobe change, the atmosphere around them lightened ever so slightly.

 

Marcy proudly zipped up her dad's jacket and the familiar garment provided her with a sense of comfort and familiarity that she didn't want to address. The acid wash Pikachu t-shirt added a touch of nostalgia to her ensemble. Marcy held a 'thank you' on her tongue. Could she really thank Sasha for what she'd done?

 

Sasha neatly folded her denim jacket, its weighty significance momentarily set aside, placing it securely within the straps of her backpack, finally looking down to her new mossy green t shirt with a tattered "#1 Dad" inscription.

 

"Who's the mom?" Anne wasn't sure whether she or Marcy had spoken first. 

 

"Shut up." Red painted Sasha's ears in embarrassment.

 

Anne admired her own transformation, her eyes tracing the image of the little pink frog on her bright blue t-shirt. Not quite as subtle in colour as Sasha's or Marcy's but perhaps casual enough as to not draw attention; or enough that Marcy and Sasha wouldn't worry that it'd draw attention. The hat on its head resembled that of a pilot. Anne chuckled.

 

"Okay, girls." Sasha turned her body fully toward a path that led between a few houses and down toward the town. "You ready?" 

Chapter 3: I've never heard silence quite this loud

Summary:

Sorry this one is a bit more ouch. I swear I don't hate the Boonchuys. I do, however, have fixed feelings toward the Wus and Waybrights.

Notes:

Please enjoy!

Oum Boonchuy was a woman of strength, a resilient force capable of weathering any storm. The vacant bedsheets and the note left behind by her daughter did not shatter her spirit. Even in the absence, the empty noiselessness, Oum held onto the unwavering belief that her baby would find her way back home.

 

The Wus had reached out to Oum as soon as they discovered Marcy's bedroom in a state of disarray, mirroring the dishevelled state of Anne's room. They joined their voices to the plea for assistance, desperate for any leads or information that could bring their beloved daughters back home.

 

Reaching out to the Waybrights proved to be more challenging. There were only so many times she could hear 'It's no different than all the other times she's done this.' before she started to feel sick.

 

Mrs. Waybright had shown concern eventually and had actively joined the search parties after the first two days, realising that it was, in fact, different this time. On the other hand, Mr. Waybright had dismissed the urgency, choosing to believe that Sasha's absence was merely an act of melodrama.

 

"Sasha always shows up eventually. I'm sorry she dragged your daughters into whatever this is." He sighed over the sound of shouting children.

 

"Just tell her you'll give her whatever it is she wants, that usually works." Mr. Waybright had casually brushed off the concerns, unaware of the depth of the all encompassing worry that had swallowed them up.

 

Oum felt a foreign frustration and disappointment at Mr. Waybright's dismissive attitude, knowing that every passing moment without their girls was precious. She couldn't fathom the possibility of waiting for Anne to simply reappear, as Mr. Waybright suggested. 

 

The sudden influx of news reporters swarming their home and Thai Go didn't break her resolve either. Oum had anticipated media attention following the incident, though she hadn't expected her own image, alongside the Wus and the Waybrights, to be plastered across the front pages of every major newspaper even more so than the girls.

 

The articles were filled with sensationalised stories and gritty footage from the Waybright custody battle, and the Wu's plans to move away. The public's opinions were divided, with some casting blame on them, while others directed their criticism towards Oum and Bee themselves.

 

The situation worsened with each passing day. Their freedom to come and go from their home was hindered by the persistent presence of news vans and reporters; trapped under the constant scrutiny. Though, she did not break.

 

As if that weren't enough, after the first week, a group of protesters had joined the scene, their hateful words echoing through the air as Oum hurriedly made her way to their van.

 

'You always park in the exact same place. The path from the door to the van is always eight steps,' Marcy had remarked, though in reality, Oum found it to be closer to five steps without the shorter legs of a thirteen-year-old.

 

One.

 

Oum focused on moving forward, determined to ignore the raucous protests that surrounded her. The protesters wielded noisy signs painted in deep red hues, their voices raised in a cacophony of anger and discontent. She refused to let their vitriol penetrate her resolve as her husband, Bee, followed closely behind.

 

Two.

 

The clamour of reporters and their incessant snapping of cameras filled the air, but Oum tuned out the noise. She shielded herself from their invasive presence.

 

Three.

 

The sun bore down upon her with unyielding warmth, showing no compassion. The sun would not stop for her grief. Yet, Oum pressed on, each step bringing her closer to her destination. She reached the grassy ground, allowing its soft blades to graze gently against her feet and ground her.

 

Four.

 

"-e all know you're murderers!"

 

Amidst the noise, the harsh accusation pierced the air.

 

 The words had frozen her in place but Bee's steady hand on her back propelled her forward. Bee swiftly ushered her into the car, crossing around to the other side without acknowledging the calls of his own name. He deftly shifted the car into drive and accelerated away from the curb, leaving the protesters and their cruel words behind.

 

Oum didn’t realise she was crying until she touched her cheek to swipe away at the rivers that resided there.

 

The radio chimed alive with music. Summery pop music that Anne loved but Oum had never understood the appeal to. She had always been more of a metalhead, but what she wouldn't give to have her girls in the back seat shouting along. She'd even turn it up, learn the words, buy every CD, she'd memorise the names of all the BlackPink members.

 

"Aaaand that was Fast Car by Jonas Blue featuring Dakota! Stay tuned for..." The radio DJ's voice faded away, leaving Oum with tears glistening in her eyes. She blinked them away, determined not to let her emotions overpower her. She would not break.

 

The car pulled into a parking lot, and Bee shifted the gear into park. Oum's heart raced as she listened intently to the news report that followed.

 

"A breakthrough in the case of missing California teens: Anne Boonchuy, Marcy Wu, and Sasha Waybright, as police have recovered a tattered shoe resembling the one missing teen Anne Boonchuy was last seen wearing."

 

The words hit Oum like a wave, stirring hope and anxiety in her chest. She held her breath, clinging to every word as the reporter continued to explain the story, repeating details that Oum was already all too familiar with.

 

"Canine units have reportedly already been deployed onto the area where the shoe was found to search for a trace of the three girls who went missing just over a week ago." The reporter trailed off to explain the story. The details Oum already knew. 

 

Canine. The word clung to her like a damp shirt.

 

She knew what had been left unsaid. The silent words between words that the reporter had tucked away. 

 

They weren't search and rescue dogs; she knew. They weren't looking to bring her baby home safe to her anymore. She didn't break, no, she shattered. 

 

The cries tore from deep in her chest as she gripped her sweater tightly between her fingers. The fabric twisted in her trembling hands as she grappled with the pain, the sobs escaped her lips in anguish. She had held onto hope for so long, but now it felt like a fragile illusion that had crumbled.

 

She vaguely registered the echoed sobs from beside her before gentle hands pulled her in. Oum surrendered to the embrace.

 

[...]

 

"Are you ready?" Sasha asked, but Anne's hands trembled nervously within the depths of her pockets. She walked along the path, her unease growing with each step.

 

"What's the name of this town again?" Anne asked.

 

"Um..." Sasha paused; contemplative.

 

"Grimestown," Marcy chimed in, attempting to inject a light-hearted tone. 

"Think we'll run into any walkers?" Marcy had meant it as a joke, but it fell flat, leaving Anne momentarily confused in a dead silence.

 

"You know, Rick Grimes?" Marcy pressed on, hoping to salvage the joke. Anne's brow furrowed, her confusion deepening. 

 

"Rick... Grimes? Oh, yeah, dude... totally... I don't know who that is, Mar-Mar" she half laughed, half sighed.

 

"Only the main character of one of the, if not the, biggest zombie apocalypse franchise to exist ever." Anne breathed an awkward laugh and Marcy groaned melodramatically.

 

"Sashy, c'mon help me out here." Marcy turned to her with an exasperated expression. Sasha blinked, seemingly dazed. 

 

"Right," Sasha took charge as if she hadn't been listening. She probably hadn't been.

 

"Marcy, you're in charge of water and medical supplies," Sasha instructed. She definitely hadn't been listening. "Band-aids, basic first aid essentials, and anything else we might need. Fill the bottles in public bathrooms if you have to, I am not drinking river water again." Marcy nodded slowly, taking in Sasha's words. 

 

"I'll handle the food. I'll try to avoid buying too much in one store, might draw suspicion." Anne suggested in a stomach churning lie, trying to ignore how Marcy's face fell when Sasha dissolved the light-hearted conversation.

 

Sasha nodded in approval. "Good thinking, Anne. Same goes for you, Marcy. And remember, if we don't need it; don't get it." She actually sounded impressed and Anne revelled in it. 

"And I'll take care of gathering the practical supplies we need. I've already made a list. Including a can opener." 

 

"Are there age restrictions on those?" Sasha went quiet for a moment. 

 

"Damnit. Fine, we just avoid cans altogether." 

 

Just as they were about to divide their paths, Marcy suddenly came to a halt, her expression shifting to one of longing.

 

"What's up, Mars?" Sasha asked, her curiosity piqued. Marcy turned towards them, and stood with an evident pout.

 

"McDonald's." Marcy pleaded, her eyes filled with an irresistible desire. Sasha's face mirrored the exasperation Anne had witnessed on her mother during their trip to Bangkok. Her California stomach definitely didn't want the baby carrots. Anne couldn't bear to see Marcy's hopeful expression fade again.

 

"We have more than enough, right, Sash?" Anne pushed her lip in a pout, taking Sasha's bandaged right hand between her palms. Sasha glanced away as if embarrassed.

 

"If," Sasha began, resignation in the fall of her tense shoulders, "and only if, you two promise to stay right here."

 

Marcy's face lit up with relief and excitement, and Anne couldn't help but smile at the sight. It almost felt normal.

 

Familiar. 

 

They'd nag and nag and, even though Sasha's mother had forbidden her from eating at Thai Go, Sasha would agree because she always was a rulebreaker. Though she'd never understood why Anne wanted to be around her parents so much anyway.

 

"Deal," Anne replied, her agreement echoed by Marcy's enthusiastic nod. Sasha dove into her pocket and pulled out the glittery wallet. 

 

Sasha stole one last glance at Anne and Marcy, their figures lingering in her peripheral vision, before she mustered her resolve and shifted her focus to the road ahead. With nerves flipping in her stomach, she quickened her pace and made her way across the silent crossing, her eyes fixed on the ground beneath her feet.

 

After a week of venturing through forests and along river walks, they had managed to avoid urban areas. However, necessity, being her friends' version of necessity, now demanded a stop at a McDonald's. Sasha's thoughts raced. 

 

The rivers had been the worst. She swore she could still feel the cold in her toes. Despite her shoes. Anne needed new shoes. Or a new shoe. Sasha added it to her growing mental list. 

 

As she entered the fast-food restaurant, the automatic doors opened with a soft whoosh, and Sasha's senses were immediately assaulted by the familiar scents of greasy food and cleaning products. The interior was sparsely populated, with only a handful of people scattered throughout. Sasha's eyes darted around, taking in the sterile environment and the plastic chairs and tables.

 

An uneasy feeling settled in Sasha's gut as she became acutely aware of her own dishevelled appearance. Her sneakers were caked in mud and barely recognisable, and the accumulation of days without a proper shower weighed heavily on her mind. Sasha couldn't help but feel out of place in the sanitised setting.

 

Her hand trembled as she tapped the digital ordering screen, grateful for the modern convenience that allowed her to avoid direct human interaction. The screen illuminated with vibrant images of burgers, fries, and various other fast-food offerings.

 

"Don't you want to be a cheerleader?" The question had stood dryly, and Sasha's heart had fallen to her feet.

 

With a determined sigh, Sasha made her decision. She tapped on the screen, confirming her order. It wasn't about what her mother would think anymore; even if she felt a little sick at the thought. 

 

Sasha collected her receipt, her mind still racing with thoughts and emotions. She meandered from the ordering screen and found herself sitting hunched at one of the tables, lost in her own world. Absentmindedly, she played with her dead phone screen, a nervous habit that offered some small comfort amidst the chaos.

 

She snatched her order while the cashier was distracted and slipped through the doors.

 

Sasha felt a rush of relief as Marcy charged into her, nearly knocking the cups out of her shaky hands. 

 

"Thanks, Sashy!" Marcy said affectionately, pressing herself closer to Sasha.

 

"Warm food!" Anne chimed in.

 

Sasha couldn't help but smile, the genuine chuckle escaping her lips as she replied, "Woah, MarMar, you're gonna kill the food before we get the chance to eat it."

 

"We?" Anne questioned carefully.

 

"Yeah, we," Sasha nodded.

 

Marcy had already settled on an overly defaced wooden bench, making herself at home with the bag of food Anne hadn't even noticed she had taken. 

 

Anne felt torn. A part of her longed to go back home, to the comfort of familiarity and routine. But another saw the changes in her friends, how much they were evolving during their time away. The journey had transformed them, and Anne couldn't help but wonder how much she had changed too.

 

As Sasha bit into a greasy cheese and bacon muffin, and Marcy enthused about an advertisement for a new movie they wouldn't get to see on the signs beside the road, Anne stared fondly, proudly perhaps, at her girls. 

 

"There's actually just one train in and out of Grimestown, and it leads to a secluded farm valley. Farming towns, Sashy! We're definitely not in L.A. anymore!" Marcy excitedly info dumped, and Anne couldn't help the affectionate roll of her eyes. 

 

'Help me,' Sasha mouthed playfully between sips of orange juice, and Anne chuckled, walking over to join her friends.

 

"Where are we going today anyway, Marbles?" Anne asked, reaching across the worn picnic table to grab a paper bag of hash browns.

 

"Omigosh, there's this farm valley, Anna-Banana, and it's so cool. Farmers are massively underappreciated, IMO. They're the foundations of society as we know it!" Marcy exclaimed, pulling out her journal and starting to jot down her thoughts.

 

She flipped the book to face Anne, who saw Sasha groan beside Marcy, burying herself further into her hoodie.

 

"At this time of the year, there's only one way in and out, and that's the train because the mountains around the valley completely freeze over! Though the train won't run for too many more days," Marcy continued excitedly.

 

"Wait, what? Then we'll be stuck?" Anne pushed herself up from the table, concern etched across her face. "Sash!"

 

"What? It's a good plan. No one will notice us in a stupid farming community. They probably don't even have the internet," Sasha retorted, her voice muffled from within her hoodie.

 

"How do you know we'll even be safe there?" Anne pressed as her heart begged her; pleaded that she'd just speak up. 

 

"It's not like we have a lot of options here, Anne. They're more likely to find us if we stay this close to the cities and then Marcy… there's no other way!" Sasha's voice escalated as she stood to meet Anne's gaze.

 

"But we'd be stuck there! No alternatives," Anne argued, struggling to reconcile the conflicting emotions inside her.

 

"We've already come across missing posters this far out. Somewhere secluded may be our only bet of staying hidden. Why are you being so difficult?" Sasha yelled, her frustration evident.

 

"Girls, c'mon, this is crazy, we're not supposed to fight," Marcy intervened, trying to defuse the tension between her friends.

"We love each other."

 

"Do you want us to get caught?" Sasha accused, shouting over Marcy and jabbing at the place where she'd sewn the stripy material onto Anne's hoodie.

 

She did. That was the problem. 

 

She wanted to tell them the truth, that she wanted to go back, but she couldn't risk it. Sasha had changed, that was for sure, but Anne didn't think the girl could ever lose her fight. Her anger.

 

"Okay, Sash. If that's what you want." Anne replied timidly, avoiding Sasha's gaze. Sasha seemed ready to say something more, maybe even apologise, but she shook her head and turned back to stare down her half-eaten food.

 

"That's my girl. Trust me, Anne." Sasha said before turning around and heading down the path, leaving Anne feeling dejected and torn. 

 

Marcy's voice wavered as she tried to find the right words, but she couldn't bring herself to continue when she saw Anne avert her gaze. 

 

"Uh, let's go then." Anne picked up her bag and followed Sasha with a heavy heart, and Marcy was left standing there, feeling a pang of loneliness. She clutched Sasha's bag, which she'd neglected in her angry haste, to her chest and watched Anne's disappearing figure.

 

"We love each other... right?"

Chapter 4: This old world will just keep on turning 'round

Summary:

In which Anne is conflicted.

Notes:

Sorry this one isn't too long. We're getting there, I promise.
I've been a wee bit all over the place lately so please forgive me. Boring life stuff but I'm glad to have something to give out nonetheless.

She didn't understand exactly what had happened. 

 

Marcy Wu was not a people person.

 

It wasn't a secret that she didn't make friends easily, but why should she need to? For as long as she could remember, there was Anne. And then there was Sasha.

 

She didn't need anyone else, which her parents didn't seem to understand. 

 

If she moved away, she'd lose them. 

 

They wouldn't stay in touch with her; she was sure of it. Heck, they might even appreciate the relief of not having to take care of Marcy all the time.

 

No. Marcy berated herself with a shake of her head and clutched Sasha's bag closer to her chest. If they didn't want to be her friends, then they would have let her go alone.

 

She didn't like to let her mind wander too much; she didn't like where it always landed. But as she gazed up to the fading figure of Anne further down the path, she couldn't help but feel a sense of unease.

 

Sasha and Anne had never fought like that before—at least, not that Marcy remembered. She was beginning to think that maybe she didn't fully understand the dynamic between them.

 

Had Anne always been so quiet? So dejected? Had Sasha always been so tense? Marcy exhaled sharply, trying to dispel the heavy ache about her heart and lungs. 

 

That was why she didn't think about it. Dwelling on their argument only made the feelings worse, and she preferred to hold onto the image of their friendship as it had always been—a strong and unbreakable bond that had carried them through everything together. 

 

For now, she focused on catching up to them, they could fix this later.

 

Grimestown appeared smaller than it had looked on the map they had passed. Stores were scattered haphazardly between a plethora of travel agents and banks.

 

The buildings looked old, almost rustic, and stood in stark contrast to the modern structures they were used to in L.A. The streets were littered with a sea of trash and leaves in a way that left the town looking abandoned. Marcy half expected a tumbleweed to dance its way across the street. 

 

Sasha gazed at the buildings in contemplation, while Anne stood nearby, creating a noticeable distance between them.

 

"You know the plan," Sasha stated openly in no direction. To neither girl in particular. Perhaps even to herself. "We'll meet at the train station in no more than three hours." 

 

Anne nodded in response to Sasha's instructions, but before a word could leave her lips, Sasha had already disappeared further down the street, her pink hood tucked tightly over her messy, mismatched blonde hair.

 

Anxiously, Anne trailed into a shop with few workers and even fewer customers. As she glanced around, she noticed the security screen dangling above her.

 

'Smile. You are on CCTV.'

 

She grinned.

 

In the dimly lit store, Anne wandered like a lost shadow, her movements tentative and shaky, like a wobbly tightrope walker forcing uncertain steps. 

 

The shelves rose like towering mountains on either side, the aisles stretched like winding paths of a labyrinth.

 

Her fingers brushed against the cool, smooth surfaces of various items, their textures as diverse as the myriad colours that surrounded her.

 

With each step, she added to her makeshift basket, balancing items in the crook of her elbow like an awkward balancing act; grateful for just a moment that her luck bared better than Marcy's. 

 

Anne halted, her gaze fixed on a solitary chocolate bar perched precariously on the shelf. The bright blue packaging, adorned with elegant white writing was one she'd scarcely seen before and never not in the hands of Sasha.

 

With trembling hands, she carefully plucked the chocolate bar from its resting place and placed it atop the stack of items in her arms. A peace offering.

 

Finally, she reached the cashier, and the moment froze. She could keep her head down. Pay for the items, walk out and never look back. 

 

She met the eyes of the cashier, an older woman with wise brown eyes and greying hair. She smiled tightly.

 

With a deep breath, Anne placed her items on the counter, the chocolate bar resting at the forefront like a beacon of hope. The sound of the scanner brought her back to the present, its beeps almost like a chorus of encouragement, urging her onward.

 

"Shouldn't you be at school?" The woman probed, her gaze flickering across Anne's face as though trying to decipher an unsolved puzzle.

 

"Uh..." Anne hesitated while her mind grappled for a response. Sasha would have been quicker at coming up with a lie; she had a talent for weaving her way out of a million situations before. But at that moment, Anne found herself at a loss for words. She felt the pressure of the truth pressing against her ribs.

 

With a pregnant pause, Anne's mind raced like a speeding train, desperately searching for a plausible explanation. She glanced at the woman, her eyes searching for any signs of judgement or suspicion. Was she onto them? 

 

"I... we're... on a field trip," Anne stammered, the bad lie was easier to produce than a real one. 

 

"A study… for Biology. Our teacher... uh... Ms. Murphy... sent us to explore the town and learn about the local… wildlife?"

 

Her heart pounded like a drum in her ears, and the woman's gaze seemed to linger for a moment longer, as though she was trying to read the truth hidden behind Anne's nervous smile. 

 

But then, with a nonchalant shrug, she turned her attention away, dismissing Anne's explanation as just another passing detail in her day.

 

"Oh, well, enjoy your field trip," the woman said casually, her curiosity seemingly satisfied. "Grimestown has some delightful rivers, you know. Plenty of frogs and newts to study." The woman cooed as though Anne was a much younger kid.

 

Easy enough. Anne just needed to rinse and repeat the process a few times more, leaving breadcrumbs in her wake. With her backpack filled with the items she had acquired, the choclate bar twirling in her palm, she swung it over her shoulders and accidentally collided with a hard surface. 

 

Bright baby blue invaded her vision, and she looked up to see a person standing before her.

 

"Sorry," Anne rushed the words out, attempting to sidestep the figure and continue on her way.

 

"It's alright." The deep voice boomed back softly. A big hand laid itself to rest on her shoulder. 

 

"Wait. Do I know you...?" The person's voice trailed off, recognition dawning in their eyes. Anne dropped her eyes to the shiny gold badge on his chest.

 

The officer was an imposing figure, tall and built with an air of authority. His flowing white hair cascaded down his shoulders and seamlessly merged with his beard in a white river about his shoulders. His piercing black eyes bore into Anne under thick furrowed grey brows. 

 

"I-don't-think-so-gotta-go-bye." 

 

Anne's heart pounded in her chest as she darted through the door, leaving the officer behind. Her breath came in ragged gasps, and her legs carried her as fast as they could. She rounded the corner, desperately searching for Sasha, her eyes scanning the surroundings for any sign of her friend.

 

The streets seemed to blur around her as she ran, the world reduced to a hazy backdrop as she focused solely on finding her friends.

 

Then, she spotted Sasha up ahead, her denim jacket and pink hoodie unmistakable. Relief flooded through Anne as she closed the distance between them. Sasha turned, her eyes widening in surprise and concern as she saw Anne approaching.

 

Anne's feet skidded against the harsh concrete as she collided with the blur of blonde locks.

 

Sasha quickly steadied Anne, wide eyed and worried. 

"Woah, what the heck, Anne? What's going on?"

 

"A cop. He recognized me. We need to find Marcy!" Anne's voice trembled with urgency.

 

"Shoot." Sasha's expression mirrored Anne's panic. "I think she went that way." Sasha pointed towards a collection of storefronts.

 

"Didn't she go that way?" Anne asked, trying to remember if she had even seen Marcy go. She was usually so vigilant when it came to Marcy.

 

"Dammit. You check that way, I'll check this way. We'll find her," Sasha decided.

 

"Sash, it's not a good idea to split up again," Anne pleaded. "It was never a good idea in the first place." She added bitterly.

 

"It's the quickest way. If you find her, head toward the train station," Sasha urged, flicking her eyes about nervously.

 

Anne nodded, reluctantly accepting Sasha's plan. She knew they couldn't waste any more time. 

 

"Okay, just… be careful," she said, giving Sasha a quick, worried hug before merging with the growing foot traffic as morning gave way to noon.

 

As Anne weaved through the busy streets, her heart pounded in her chest, fearing the worst. She was about to turn down another alley when she caught a glimpse of Marcy's short raven hair disappearing into a nearby shop. Relief washed over her, and she quickened her pace.

 

Inside the store, Marcy stood near a shelf of colourful trinkets, entranced. When she saw Anne, she beamed, and rushed forward to embrace her.

 

"Oh hey, Anna-Banana!" Marcy exclaimed, excitedly. "Come see!" 

 

Anne hugged her back tightly. 

 

"We have to go, MarMar. It's not safe." The lie felt bitter on her tongue. She was so close. So so close. They could have gone home. What was wrong with her? 

 

"Sasha?" 

 

She did want to go home, as much as she hated lying to her girls, so why didn't she just let the cop take her home? 

 

"Sasha's looking for you. She said to head for the train so let's go."

 

"Okay." Marcy threw Sasha's pink backpack lopsided over hers on her back and gripped Anne's sleeve. 

 

The empty streets had, within an instant, been replaced by the bustling public and Anne found it easier to tuck herself and Marcy into the corners as they swept across the town toward the train station. 

 

Anne averted her gaze from every stranger and pulled Marcy a little closer if they dared look for too long. 

 

The train station was packed so tightly with the midday rush that Anne and Marcy felt like sardines in a can. 

 

Usually Anne and Marcy hated the crowds but they slipped between the cracks like espionage. The two had often relied on Sasha but, in a moment of desperation, attacked the digital ticket booth with their selection.

 

Anne and Marcy navigated through the sea of people, their senses heightened, searching for any sign of Sasha's pink hoodie in the bustling train station. Their hearts pounded in their chests as they weaved through the crowd, each passing second adding to their anxiety.

 

"Where is she?" Marcy whispered, her eyes darting around, desperately looking for a glimpse of their friend.

 

"I don't know." Anne replied, her voice tense with worry. 

 

They continued their search, moving with purpose but trying not to draw too much attention to themselves. The station was a labyrinth of noise and movement, making it difficult to focus on anything specific

 

"-drias, NPD, have you seen this girl?" Before she could stop herself, Anne spun her head to follow the voice.

 

The officer from earlier towered over an older woman, holding out a missing poster similar to the one they'd seen flying like a tattered flag.

 

He raised his dark eyes to her.

 

"Wait!" He called out, but Anne and Marcy had already slipped between the couple to their left.

 

"Is that our train?" Marcy asked, shakily being pulled along by Anne.

 

Anne glanced at the electronic display above the platform, the numbers changing rapidly. 

"Yes, that's it!" she confirmed, relief evident in her voice.

 

They quickened their pace, their backpacks bouncing against their shoulders, eager to board the train and put some distance between themselves and the officer. The platform was crowded, with people bustling about, but Anne and Marcy moved with a purpose, determined to make it onto the train.

 

Anne's foot hit the step, and she was aboard the train, Marcy's hand still clutching hers.

 

"We made it," Anne sighed, her heart still pounding in her chest.

 

"Anne!" Marcy called out, her grip on Anne's hand tightening.

 

One foot on the train, Marcy hung out as the doors began to shut, a looming figure casting a shadow over her.

 

Marcy's hand slipped between Anne's fingertips.

 

"Marcy!" Anne reached out to her, fighting to regain her hold, but her hand collided with the glass of the train door. 

 

As the train pulled away from the station, Anne's heart shattered as she watched Marcy being held back by the officer.

 

The train's rhythmic movements rocked Anne gently as she sunk into a seat, her mind overwhelmed with a whirlwind of emotions. She was still clutching the chocolate bar she'd bought Sasha, melted in her palm. 

 

She wanted them to go home. So why did she feel so guilty? Marcy would be safe. Why did droplets begin to collect on her stolen t-shirt? 

 

Why was everything so complicated? 

Notes:

Bug me in the comments.

No, this chapter doesn't have a Taylor Swift song as the title, I couldn't find one that fit and I'm tired.

Grief has struck me suddenly. So this is for Kaila. Who would have really enjoyed helping me write this.

Chapter 5: From Sprinkler Splashes to Fireplace Ashes

Summary:

TW: Mentions of death, moderately graphic descriptions of death

I've upped the rating a little because of this.
Also look at me, back with the Taylor Swift in the chapter title B]

Sorry this one is a little dark. I promise it gets worse before it gets better.

Notes:

So sorry with how long this took. I've been captured with writer's block and art block.

Also, 'You're on Your Own, Kid' is such a Calamity Trio coded song. Like :(

"Why are you crying?" A little voice asked and Anne gasped. 

 

"What?" She asked with a sniffle.

 

"Why are you crying?" Anne looked up from her knees to find herself faced with the curious gaze of a young boy with vibrant orange hair peeking out from beneath a dark green beanie. His innocent question cut through her thoughts, and she hastily wiped away her tears with the back of her hand.

 

"Oh, uh... it's nothing," Anne stammered, and tried to force her smile to look less strained.

 

"Is it because you're alone? Do you not have a family?" 

 

"C'mon boy, knock it off." A croaky voice scolded in a southern accent. A short man, Anne had maybe a head on him, stepped closer and swatted gently at the boy's beanie. 

 

"He's got a knack for asking the darndest questions," Anne managed a weak smile, a genuine one this time.

"Now, Sprig, apologise," came the firm but kind voice of the older man.

 

"But, Hop-Pop, I didn't mean anything by it," Sprig protested, looking back at the older man with a mixture of innocence and defiance that was uniquely childlike.

 

"That doesn't mean it ain't wrong to say. Now apologise," the older man insisted, his tone carrying a sense of guidance.

 

"I'm sorry that I don't know what I did wrong," Sprig turned back to Anne and grinned, his youthful enthusiasm shining through.

 

"Sprig!" Anne chuckled, glancing between the little boy and the old man.

 

Anne's gaze settled on the older man. He was a compact figure with silver hair that sprouted energetically from his temples, giving him a somewhat dishevelled yet endearing appearance. 

 

In his arms was another child, a little girl with a fiery mane of hair matching Sprig's that was carefully braided, adorned with a colourful orange and yellow polka dot bow.

 

"It's okay. I'm not alone. I'm just... on my own? For now!" Anne explained, her words carried an uncertainty not even she could ignore.

 

"You sure you're alright, kid?" the old man inquired, extending a weathered hand in a gesture of concern and support.

 

"Yeah, yeah. I'm fine." 

 

Anne turned her gaze back to the window, watching as miles of grassy fields and marshland blurred into a hazy landscape. If she were Sasha, where would she choose to get off?

 

As far away as possible.

 

"Ahem... uh... do you happen to know which stop is the furthest from the city? It's uh... where I'm meeting my friend." Anne asked, her words stumbling out.

 

"Oh! Oh!" The boy's face lit up with enthusiasm. "Our town, Warwood, is probably the furthest away!"

 

"For sure," the old man nodded along. "Why's a kid like you heading so far out from the city alone, anyhow?"

 

Anne felt a pang of panic. She could barely remember anything about the stupid farming valley.

 

Then it struck her.

 

"Oh. Uh. My friend and I, we're going to her aunt's farm for the summer. My... uh, Mom thought it'd be good for us. You know, away from technology and all that," she chuckled nervously.

"But… we got split up and my friend said it was pretty far out." 

 

"My phone died, so I can't even call her," Anne admitted with a sigh.

 

The old man looked contemplative for a moment, playing with his styled cyan ascot.

 

"Well, we may not have the internet and all those doo-dahs, but we aren't so prehistoric that we don't have technology or plumbing," he said, his tone warm despite his words.

 

Anne glanced between the boy, who was unusually quiet beside the old man, and the young girl; who was still deep asleep.

 

"Tell you what, we'll take you back to our farm where you can charge that phone of yours and try to find your friend. How long were you both planning on staying?"

 

"Just the summer. Why?" Anne questioned.

 

"This is the last train going in or out for the next few months. We nearly missed it!" Sprig chimed in with energetic enthusiasm, delivering his chuckle like a mocking whirlwind of bad news.

 

Anne briefly wondered how they managed to remain so calm when she was sure all the blood in her body had drained out and pooled at her feet; flooding the train car and leaving her shivering.

 

"Oh. Yeah, I knew that. Hah. We're here until the mountains are... uh... passable… again." Anne quickly recovered, injecting a forced cheerfulness into her response. She really wasn't a good liar. 

"I just hope I can find my friend soon." 

 

"Ohh. You're sad because you miss your friends!" 

 

"Sprig!" Hop-Pop warned again, shooting a frustrated but fatigued look at Sprig that Anne was sure she'd have rolled her eyes at a week ago. 

 

"Yeah. My friends mean everything to me. Without them... I just feel kinda lost." She felt the pressure in her chest again. The dull ache that had lingered consistently in her lungs since she'd opened the door to Sasha.

 

"Why don't we be friends?" 

 

A thud beside her signalled that Sprig had joined her on her seat near the door. 

 

"What?" 

 

"Until you find your friend... I could be your friend!" He beamed, and Anne clutched the familiar Polaroid closer to her, a comforting reminder of her companions.

 

When had she even pulled it out of her pocket? Muscle memory, she supposed.

 

"I'm super cool, I promise!" He pounced from the seat to leap about the cart, withdrawing what looked like a hastily made slingshot from his pocket and shooting crumpled paper at a poster across from them.

 

"Hm." She glanced down at the Polaroid. Then back up at Sprig. "Yeah, maybe. You do seem pretty cool."

 

Sprig grinned cheesily, and Anne couldn't help but smile despite herself. A yawn crept its way up from her chest, and she rubbed at her eyes with her palm.

 

"I can let you know when we get there if you wanna get some shut-eye." The older man offered warmly and Anne raised her head to object but the weight of her eyelids won out and she tucked her head into her arm.

 

Sasha. Marcy. Wherever you are. Please be okay. 

 

[...]

 

"It's the quickest way. If you find her, head toward the train station," Sasha urged, flicking her eyes about nervously.

 

Anne nodded, reluctantly accepting Sasha's plan. She knew they couldn't waste any more time. 

 

"Okay, just… be careful," she said, giving Sasha a quick, worried hug before merging with the growing foot traffic as morning gave way to noon.

 

The cold attacked Sasha as soon as Anne's arms slipped away from her, and she swallowed thickly.

 

Shaking her head, Sasha swung herself around and bounded in the direction she was sure Marcy had gone.

 

She wanted to shout, to call for Marcy. She hated herself for letting Anne go. They should have stayed together.

 

What if Anne was caught? Or Marcy? Then... it'd be all Sasha's fault. 

 

She slipped in and out of stores in search of the familiar green to no avail.

 

Anne was probably right and already had Marcy. Or Marcy would already be at the train station waiting for them.

 

Sasha slid between a group of much older teenagers at the door and turned down an alleyway she was sure led to the train station.

 

She just had to make it to the other side and then she'd see her friends again.

 

Just a little while longer, then they'd be safe and together.

 

"Hey kid, I wouldn't come through here if I were you." A booming voice growled from deep within the alley.

 

Her eyes narrowed when the glint of reddened metal caught her eyes.

 

"I..." Sasha felt like her words turned to sand in her mouth as her eyes trailed across the blade to the bloodied heap on the floor.

 

"Oh my god-" She tried to step away but froze when her back hit against a wall that definitely wasn't there before.

 

"Bog. The streets are flooded with officers. I thought I said to handle this quietly?" 

 

Sasha shook stiffly and wrapped her arms around herself. There, right in front of her, was a lifeless figure lying on the ground.

 

Dead. 

 

Her chest burned with each shallow breath, a desperate attempt to quell the panic rising within her. That was it. The end. She was going to die.

 

The voice behind her engaged in a heated exchange with 'Bog,' their words a distant murmur against the pounding of Sasha's heart. She could barely register the argument; her mind was consumed by the overwhelming certainty that she was about to die. Nothing else seemed to matter anymore. 

 

"Damnit!" A strong fist clenched around Sasha's arm, and she braced herself for the inevitable blow, her body tensing in anticipation.

 

But the blow never landed.

 

Instead, the man—only slightly taller than Sasha but possessing a formidable bulk at least four times the size of her—hauled her further down the alleyway, past the cluster of dishevelled figures and the lifeless form slumped against the wall.

 

Sasha raised her head, pushing past the horror of the scene and the splatter of red that painted her leg, and met the man's eye. One a bright green while the other was marred with scars and faded to a paler shade. 

 

His face was etched with a fierce grimace, his features tense and knotted with some unspoken conflict. Even if she hadn't been trapped in his unyielding grip, his expression alone would have kept her from attempting to flee.

 

"What's our next move?" The other man, whose features were now more distinguishable in the light, revealing horns of spiky red hair, asked cautiously.

 

"That's what I'm trying to figure out." The man holding Sasha replied, his tone edged with frustration and urgency.

 

Sasha's instinct screamed at her to resist, to fight back. After all, she was Sasha Elizabeth Waybright—a fighter through and through. She'd won more fights in middle school than she'd lost in her whole life.

 

Fights against teenagers. With fists.

 

Before she could muster the will to struggle, an unwelcome image seared into her mind's eye: the glinting blade, stained crimson with death. She shied away again.

 

"What do you think about heading back home?" 

 

"The valley will be cut off for months!" Bog argued, his voice tinged with desperation.

 

"If you want to stay here and deal with this mess," the man next to Sasha gestured towards the lifeless figure in the alley. "Go right ahead."

 

"What about the girl, Grime?" A still gruff but somehow softer, more feminine, voice piped up.

 

"She's seen all of our faces," Bog interjected.

 

Grime turned his attention to Sasha, his expression marked by irritation.

 

"We'll have time to figure out what to do with her later," 

 

Sasha was invaded with the odour of cigarettes clinging to Grime's coat as he lowered his head, his voice dangerously low. 

 

"Make a single move, and you'll end up like him, got it?" Sasha felt her muscles tense uncontrollably.

 

A calloused hand gripped her chin, forcing her to face the slumped body against the wall, blood pooling around it.

 

"Got it?" He demanded. 

 

She nodded quickly.

 

"Good. Now start moving."

Notes:

If you're sad Marcy is gone, don't be. She deserves so much more screentime and definitely plays a bigger role in this story.

Also hope you like the human renditions of the Amphibia characters. I've been hinting at it with so little subtlety. I was going to draw them all for this chapter but I'll probably just draw them and link it next chapter.

Chapter 6: Took our broken hearts, put them in a drawer

Summary:

Not a lotta plot today. Just Yulivia and Marcy. They mean so much to me.

Notes:

Another short chapter but if I make myself make them long then I'll give up and that'll be the end of this fic.

As Marcy perched herself on the edge of the desk, her legs swung back and forth rhythmically while a soft hum played in her mind. 

 

Andrias had been sincerely apologetic about how he had gripped her during the chase. She glanced down at the boot encasing her foot. A sprained ankle. Fortunately, the Deputy Sheriff Olivia's medical expertise had come in handy, patching her up well enough.

 

Focusing her attention back to her journal, Marcy's pen moved across the pages with deliberate purpose, capturing the essence of the old sheriff's building.

 

Her gaze shifted to the bulky bulletin board on her left, its surface plastered with numerous missing persons posters, including one for Sasha. Marcy understood the reality – of course they were searching for her too. It had been naive to think otherwise.

 

Moving her focus across the room, Marcy's gaze settled on Olivia, engaged in conversation with Captain Yunan. 

 

Olivia was much smaller, even more so overshadowed in her chair with soft dark skin and black hair rushing down her shoulders in rivers, otherwise tucked out of her face by a high bun.

 

The captain was a formidable figure, characterised by her tan and muscular yet lean build, short slicked back blonde hair and a mischievous grin that seemed to have driven Olivia to seek refuge in her, Marcy hadn't been counting but if she had to guess, at the very least, fifth cup of coffee since Yunan had brought back dinner.

 

"And that's when I said, 'I am the great Captain Yunan, scourge of organised crime, defeater of-'" 

 

"I know, darling. Then what did he do?" Olivia cut her off, redirecting her focus to the story.

 

Andrias, on the other hand, was noticeably absent most days. In the four days she'd been cooped up in the spare bedroom above the office, she'd seen him maybe five times.

 

He came back late and tucked himself into his office where he slept.

 

Marcy had heard that a group of 'thugs' had vanished, leaving behind a substantial mess for Andrias to handle. However, he had chosen to withhold the finer details from Marcy, which left her perplexed. After all, she considered herself mature enough to handle all kinds of information. Marcy liked to know things.

 

Andrias wasn't exactly known for being overly concerned about confidentiality. Maybe he simply believed Marcy was too young to handle certain information.

 

"Marcy, could you please lower the volume a bit? Yunan is loud enough for the both of you," Olivia sighed, although fondly, and Marcy immediately ceased her humming. She hadn't even realised how loudly she had been humming to herself.

 

Yunan's hearty laughter echoed through the room, and although Olivia complained, Marcy detected a gentle smile tugging at the corners of her lips. Interesting. 

 

"Alright, kid—" Yunan began, approaching where Marcy was sitting.

 

"Marcy," she corrected, her voice soft but firm.

 

Yunan let out a chuckle.

 

"Alright, Marcy, why don't we head upstairs, and you can tell me all about that Swap game you've been playing?" Olivia sighed in relief, making a mental note to express her gratitude to Yunan later.

 

"Oh! You mean..." Olivia let the rambling voice fade into the background as she buried herself in the comforting warmth of her coffee.

 

She was well aware that she should stand up to Andrias. The mounting pile of paperwork was a constant reminder of how she had become a scapegoat for his and Yunan's responsibilities.

 

Yunan, however, had always relied on Olivia to handle her paperwork, a trade-off for covering for Olivia's interactions with the public. But Andrias was an entirely different case, someone who seemed to consider himself above such mundane tasks.

 

But not with Marcy. Anything concerning Marcy was shrouded in secrecy and confined to Andrias' office. It was clear that he held a genuine concern for the girl's well-being.

 

However, Olivia couldn't help but wonder why Marcy couldn't simply return to her parents or be placed under the care of child protective services. It was a question she intended to raise with Andrias, though it seemed to get pushed to the backburner for later.

 

Always later.

 

For the time being, Olivia took it upon herself to ensure Marcy's well-being. After all, the girl had been through so much – a week of barely eating and sleeping outside on the ground, not to mention the worry for her missing friends. It was a heavy burden for anyone, let alone a young teenager.

 

After what felt like hours, Olivia wearily placed the final piece of paper on the pile beside her with a sigh of relief. 

 

"Woah. You work fast," Yunan commented, re-entering the room with a proud grin.

 

"What's got you so smug?" Olivia inquired.

 

"Out like a light. You're welcome, Milady," Yunan said with a dramatic bow.

 

"Thank you," Olivia replied sincerely as Yunan slid the paper off the desk and headed toward the filing cabinets.

 

"Anything from Andrias on what's going on with her?" Yunan asked with a hint of frustration, placing the papers somewhat unsteadily on a cabinet.

 

"No, nothing. Perhaps it's more complicated than I first thought," Olivia replied with a nervous furrow of her brow.

"Is she alright?"

 

"Yeah, most passionate kid I've ever met. I now know more about War of the Warlocks than I do about American history," Yunan quipped.

 

"I wasn't aware you were well-versed in American history."

 

"Okay, maybe that plays a part, but my point still stands," Yunan's chest swelled with a gentle flutter as Olivia's gaze softened.

 

"I'll discuss it with Andrias when he arrives. You can head home now. I know your shift ended hours ago," Olivia offered.

 

"Does your shift ever end?" Yunan joked humourlessly. 

"don't mind staying a bit longer. Besides, how will you ever survive the monotony without the great Captain Yunan, scourge of—"

 

"That's enough, you," Olivia playfully interrupted with a swat at the taller woman's shoulder, guiding her toward the door.

 

"Are you sure?"

 

"Yes, I'm quite certain. Now go home. I'll endure my solitude until I see you again tomorrow," Olivia replied with a playful roll of her eyes.

 

Yunan took a few exaggerated steps backward, extending her arm melodramatically, and feigned exaggerated sobs.

 

"I'll miss y— woah!" She abruptly ducked under a sign in the parking lot.

"Nearly took my head off!"

 

"Careful now," Olivia chimed in, trying to suppress her laughter as she covered her mouth with her hand.

 

Yunan slipped into her beat-up jeep and smoothly pulled out of the parking lot, offering a wave as she departed.

 

"Olivia?" Marcy's voice caught her attention.

 

"So much for 'out like a light'." Olivia mused under her breath and her eyes shifted back to Marcy.

"Yes?"

 

"I'm really worried about my friends." Marcy confessed in a small voice. 

 

"Oh." Her chest tightened.

 

"I know. But we are doing everything we can to contact our people in the farm valley, I assure you. These things just take time." She hates how versed she sounds.

"They aren't very tech savvy so we have to wait for someone to reach out to us via the radio station." 

 

"It's been days. Someone must work there." Marcy pleaded in exasperation. 

 

"It's a very old station. It's rare that it's ever used. The farmers in the valley rarely intend to reach out to the city. But someone will reach out." Olivia tried to sound reassuring but, as with all other information on Marcy, all attempts to reach the South radio tower were locked away in Andrias' office. 

 

"But it's all my fault," Marcy admitted sadly.

 

"Don't be silly, Marcy. You're just a child. This isn't your fault," Olivia reassured her.

 

Marcy looked as though she wanted to protest, like she'd scripted her argument in her head and learnt all the lines; she probably had. Eventually, she just nodded.

 

"Can I stay down here with you? At least until Andrias comes back?" Marcy pleaded again. 

 

"Of course, Marcy, I'm sure Andrias won't be too long."

 

Marcy settled into one of the chairs, her eyes tracing the patterns on the linoleum floor. Eventually, exhaustion caught up with her, and she curled up beneath Olivia's coat on the waiting room couch.

 

As darkness seeped through the windows, the door creaked open again. Olivia began to speak, but Andrias brushed past her wordlessly and disappeared into his office.

 

Notes:

If you enjoyed, please let me know in the comments as it keeps me motivated.

The same applies if you see any issues or want to suggest changes. In the future as this is a pilot.