And if you lost it all, and you lost it
Feb. 10th, 2018 05:33 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
furgoodIt's soot and smoke everywhere. Her chest hurts, a deep pain that intensifies every time she catches a lungful of smoke. She leaps a ditch and then pauses, looks back and flings herself face down into that ditch. The fire roars over her, around her, catching light to the grass and the wheat and corn around her but she has room to spare, just enough to breathe when the fire roars. Her skin is tight and dry and painful and it hurts so much. It' s hard to breathe, hard to not scream and waste all her air when it feels like there's already so little. A flash of red and blue flies over her. She keeps quiet. She keeps silent. She breathes. She weeps and wonders if this where it all ends for her.
At some point she passes out. At some point she wakes. She staggers to her feet in one lurching motion and suddenly screams at the pain. The raw burns all over, the way her clothing has melted and burned until it's one with her, all of it hits her at once and she stumbles and falls to her knees. Her lungs protest the scream and she coughs, a deep hacking cough that shakes her, that makes the pain worse until she wants to cry but she's not sure she has enough water in her left for tears.
When Derek finds her, she's a mess. Black and red, trembling from shock, from pain. Even his gentle touch as he carries her back sets her sobbing. He looks pained, hesitant to walk any further when the steps jostle her, but slowly, slowly they make their way back to the camp. And then it's the plane and the sweet oblivion of sleep and when she wakes, it's in a shiny room she's only familiar with as a visitor.
There's a bowed head at her side, eyes half open and staring into nothingness--no, staring at her hands that are wrapped in bandages. Will she be able to write again? It all hurts again, suddenly, and she makes a little noise, bites the inside of her mouth to stifle it, but his head bobs up in a flash.
It's been such a time since she's seen such pain in his eyes. Wide purple eyes that look so heartbroken and guilty and upset and such--beneath it such fury. Beneath it all, it's like...She shudders and lifts her hand to his face. Her touch is barely there, muffled by layers of cloth bandages and her voice comes out in a croaking whisper.
"I'm okay."
And it's like watching a wave crash, that play of emotions; the guilt subsiding to disbelief and concern, and then a wash of that rage, crashing into him, breathing new life into itself. They did this to her. The rebels did this to her and she sits here and tries to reassure him and fuck, she shouldn't have to, she's hurt and she's trying to reassure him like her wounds don't matter and he will make the all pay, every single one--
And she shakes her head.
"Don't--Please. I should have stayed with the group. I should have stayed with Derek and Chuck and I d--" But that's too much, she breaks into a coughing fit that wipes the rage from his face, just concern and he lifts his hand to her back but it hovers uncertainly. So much of her is raw and painful.
It doesn't last as long as it should. It's a week in the hospital where they place new skin over her burned and she spends days on her stomach, letting the much abused skin of her back heal. Derek shows up and his hands touch her face and she knows. He hates himself for letting this happen to her, letting her out of his sight, and instinctively she knows they'll never let her return to the battlefields. Her days of reporting what she sees are gone. Part of her wants to be angry but so much of her is focused on recovery.
They do a blurb on her. Her tight determined smile fills the screen as she speaks about how she wants peace despite everything. How she forgives those who started the fire but she wants the rebels to know that this hurts everyone. It hurts those they're claiming to save. It hurts everyone when they have less to eat and when people are pulled from work to fight these ridiculous rebellions. She begs for peace.
Before Derek and Chuck ship off to the next battle, she comes home. They insist on carrying her in.
"I can walk! That's why we waited this long, so I could walk!"
"Don't be stupid, let him baby you. It makes him feel better." Chuck throws out and Derek scowls but Meulin knows he's probably right. Derek's as prone to guilt over them as Kurloz is--even if he doesn't seem to take it quite as far. Kurloz tries to laugh but Meulin still sees the ghost of that pain and rage in his eyes as he watches her wince as she settles onto the bed. She tries on a smile anyways.
"I'm going to walk as soon as you all leave, you know that right?"
Kurloz scowls and walks over, nudging her to lay back in the bed. She huffs and leans her head back against the pillows. No one pays attention to her huffing. How rude.
"Kurloz will keep you in bed." Derek points out and looks sidelong at Chuck. There's a beat and then Chuck leaves the room. "Close your eyes."
"What? Now?" She sighs deeply and closes her eyes, "I won't know when I'm suppose to open them again, if I can't see to read your lips. Someone poke me when--"
And something small and furry and suddenly rumbling drops in her hands. It creeps up her chest to inspect her face and something ticklish brushes her cheeks, her nose, her forehead. She giggles and slowly opens her eyes.
And two bright green eyes look back. The fur is a more of a muted teal dotted with white and the palest blue but those eyes are near matches for her own and they stare back and forth at one another. Then the kitten sneezes and Meulin reaches a hand up to stroke down it's back.
"They're beautiful."
"To keep you company. Kurloz suggested it. We figure you've probably wanted one."
And she had. It makes the time easier. Phi comes over one day when Meulin is still being condemned to mostly bedrest and they decide on a name.
"You should name her Aphrodite. She was born of seafoam. And well, other things, but seafoam is the main thing we should focus on. She was the goddess of beauty. "
"Aphrodite--it seems pretty. And she is a gorgeous cat."
Meulin never returns to the battlefield. Someone else goes in her place and she begs him not to, she does, it makes her head scream at her to beg him not to go, but that rage can't be quieted. He goes and she worries, alone at home with Aphrodite. The war goes on, she does not.
It all ends one day, suddenly, when she's huddled amongst other inhabitants of the Capitol, Aphrodite in a little carrier under one arm and her other around her sister. They--they lost. Snow is dead. And her family is somewhere out there, somewhere, and she's ... she's lost. She did everything perfect and her--they--she shudders and ducks her head. What is she supposed to do? Their house must be wrecked. Her family, her pack, they might not even be alive and what should she do.
She doesn't know. And that's the worst part, the part that hurts the most, the part that is the hardest to unpack in the months that follow. It's the hardest part of meeting Terezi again and knowing her cause was once Meulin's own and she left it behind and Terezi won in the end. She won.
Meulin, a Meulin long gone, won.
The war is over.
But not the one she's still fighting.
At some point she passes out. At some point she wakes. She staggers to her feet in one lurching motion and suddenly screams at the pain. The raw burns all over, the way her clothing has melted and burned until it's one with her, all of it hits her at once and she stumbles and falls to her knees. Her lungs protest the scream and she coughs, a deep hacking cough that shakes her, that makes the pain worse until she wants to cry but she's not sure she has enough water in her left for tears.
When Derek finds her, she's a mess. Black and red, trembling from shock, from pain. Even his gentle touch as he carries her back sets her sobbing. He looks pained, hesitant to walk any further when the steps jostle her, but slowly, slowly they make their way back to the camp. And then it's the plane and the sweet oblivion of sleep and when she wakes, it's in a shiny room she's only familiar with as a visitor.
There's a bowed head at her side, eyes half open and staring into nothingness--no, staring at her hands that are wrapped in bandages. Will she be able to write again? It all hurts again, suddenly, and she makes a little noise, bites the inside of her mouth to stifle it, but his head bobs up in a flash.
It's been such a time since she's seen such pain in his eyes. Wide purple eyes that look so heartbroken and guilty and upset and such--beneath it such fury. Beneath it all, it's like...She shudders and lifts her hand to his face. Her touch is barely there, muffled by layers of cloth bandages and her voice comes out in a croaking whisper.
"I'm okay."
And it's like watching a wave crash, that play of emotions; the guilt subsiding to disbelief and concern, and then a wash of that rage, crashing into him, breathing new life into itself. They did this to her. The rebels did this to her and she sits here and tries to reassure him and fuck, she shouldn't have to, she's hurt and she's trying to reassure him like her wounds don't matter and he will make the all pay, every single one--
And she shakes her head.
"Don't--Please. I should have stayed with the group. I should have stayed with Derek and Chuck and I d--" But that's too much, she breaks into a coughing fit that wipes the rage from his face, just concern and he lifts his hand to her back but it hovers uncertainly. So much of her is raw and painful.
It doesn't last as long as it should. It's a week in the hospital where they place new skin over her burned and she spends days on her stomach, letting the much abused skin of her back heal. Derek shows up and his hands touch her face and she knows. He hates himself for letting this happen to her, letting her out of his sight, and instinctively she knows they'll never let her return to the battlefields. Her days of reporting what she sees are gone. Part of her wants to be angry but so much of her is focused on recovery.
They do a blurb on her. Her tight determined smile fills the screen as she speaks about how she wants peace despite everything. How she forgives those who started the fire but she wants the rebels to know that this hurts everyone. It hurts those they're claiming to save. It hurts everyone when they have less to eat and when people are pulled from work to fight these ridiculous rebellions. She begs for peace.
Before Derek and Chuck ship off to the next battle, she comes home. They insist on carrying her in.
"I can walk! That's why we waited this long, so I could walk!"
"Don't be stupid, let him baby you. It makes him feel better." Chuck throws out and Derek scowls but Meulin knows he's probably right. Derek's as prone to guilt over them as Kurloz is--even if he doesn't seem to take it quite as far. Kurloz tries to laugh but Meulin still sees the ghost of that pain and rage in his eyes as he watches her wince as she settles onto the bed. She tries on a smile anyways.
"I'm going to walk as soon as you all leave, you know that right?"
Kurloz scowls and walks over, nudging her to lay back in the bed. She huffs and leans her head back against the pillows. No one pays attention to her huffing. How rude.
"Kurloz will keep you in bed." Derek points out and looks sidelong at Chuck. There's a beat and then Chuck leaves the room. "Close your eyes."
"What? Now?" She sighs deeply and closes her eyes, "I won't know when I'm suppose to open them again, if I can't see to read your lips. Someone poke me when--"
And something small and furry and suddenly rumbling drops in her hands. It creeps up her chest to inspect her face and something ticklish brushes her cheeks, her nose, her forehead. She giggles and slowly opens her eyes.
And two bright green eyes look back. The fur is a more of a muted teal dotted with white and the palest blue but those eyes are near matches for her own and they stare back and forth at one another. Then the kitten sneezes and Meulin reaches a hand up to stroke down it's back.
"They're beautiful."
"To keep you company. Kurloz suggested it. We figure you've probably wanted one."
And she had. It makes the time easier. Phi comes over one day when Meulin is still being condemned to mostly bedrest and they decide on a name.
"You should name her Aphrodite. She was born of seafoam. And well, other things, but seafoam is the main thing we should focus on. She was the goddess of beauty. "
"Aphrodite--it seems pretty. And she is a gorgeous cat."
Meulin never returns to the battlefield. Someone else goes in her place and she begs him not to, she does, it makes her head scream at her to beg him not to go, but that rage can't be quieted. He goes and she worries, alone at home with Aphrodite. The war goes on, she does not.
It all ends one day, suddenly, when she's huddled amongst other inhabitants of the Capitol, Aphrodite in a little carrier under one arm and her other around her sister. They--they lost. Snow is dead. And her family is somewhere out there, somewhere, and she's ... she's lost. She did everything perfect and her--they--she shudders and ducks her head. What is she supposed to do? Their house must be wrecked. Her family, her pack, they might not even be alive and what should she do.
She doesn't know. And that's the worst part, the part that hurts the most, the part that is the hardest to unpack in the months that follow. It's the hardest part of meeting Terezi again and knowing her cause was once Meulin's own and she left it behind and Terezi won in the end. She won.
Meulin, a Meulin long gone, won.
The war is over.
But not the one she's still fighting.
