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Marcy’s endured enough of these that the nightmares don't cast as much grief and misery over her day that follows, but they still leave a bitter taste in her mouth as she has to shake and scream through the feeling that her body is not hers anymore. That it won’t ever be; that maybe she should be grateful as she surrenders to the water and the forceful unconsciousness, that it’s saving her from having to burden those she loves even more than she already has.
This time, it’s her scars that rip herself open. The bruises that commend her for her bravery in the face of the pain, but can it really be an attribute of good character when she was forced into it? They burst at the seams, betraying her body. Letting blood spill to the floor, the whimpers leaking out from her in a similar fashion. She sees that last, final scene, looking Anne dead in the eyes, the shocked expression on her friend’s face cluing her in on the fact that something was wrong before the pain did. Olivia and Yunan frozen in place as they watch the metal clamp onto her body, knocking the delirious haze in her mind instantly and shoving her back into another nightmarish reality.
Nightmarish. That’s all this is; a dream. At least reality had the benevolence to only happen once, but the true nightmarish quality about the dreams is that they couldn’t break the habit of creeping back. Shoving her back into everything again and again, despite being a fabrication of her mind.
Dragging her back to the same place, nipping at her toes under the covers so she had no choice but to draw her knees to her chest and become as small as possible as her screams rip through the house.
The response is almost instantaneous, practiced through experience and routine. Olivia hasn’t breached Marcy’s awareness of her surroundings until she lets out that same sigh, the hoarse one that she hears nearly two, three times a week? “Shh, sh, you’re awake now.”
She’s awake now. Though the days added on between present and when she was awoken and shoved into the hands of a ruthless supercomputer will only continue, the time does little to heal the wound when her mind can’t seem to stop reminding her of it every time she trusts herself enough to rest.
Time cannot heal anything when the sword is still left in her chest.
But for now it stops the bleeding, so it’s easy to submit to the fear.
Olivia seems to know enough by now to keep her distance; there is no weight at the foot of the bed, there is no hand on her shoulder, poisoning what was meant to be a comforting gesture into a harbinger of pain. But her inhales and exhales are audible and are leisurely slow, setting an example for Marcy as she always seems to think she ought to.
Marcy flinches at the sound of the door opening again, and wants to keep her head low, low enough to deny what might be in front of her and a part of her knows she’s safe in this room. But the larger portion of her wins; the one that fears its another mission, it’s another haze spent hurting those she loves, her thoughts taken and scrutinized by something she could never hide from and it’s here again and it’s- General Yunan.
General Yunan, who Marcy looks up to see in the doorframe, holding a glass of water and a blanket in her arms. General Yunan, who looks to Olivia first and mouths something Marcy doesn’t want to make out because what if they finally realized she’s only weighing them down? Yunan, who ultimately overrides the thought with the concern weighing in her expression.
“Tough night, kiddo?”
Marcy wants so badly to be able to respond to her. To speak, to be able to start to purge the weight of the fear and panic through her words and find some way to push through it all. And a part of her wonders if it’s less that she’s afraid to speak but rather she’s afraid to face the truth in the hypotheticals she loves to entertain. That it’s all in her head, yet she’s startling Yunan and Olivia awake too frequently to not be a disturbance.
“I have some water,” Olivia says, and Marcy hates the way her words always seem like a test between the two of them now. Like she’s fragile enough to be broken with something so simple like a command to drink water. Or maybe, again, it’s the fact that Marcy knows that she is. “For when you feel better, because you are safe here. You’re free, you’re okay, and we can stay here as long as you need.”
“I would eat dirt before I’d let him touch you again, okay?” Yunan adds.
There’s natural variation to it, but without fail, they end up saying the same sorts of things every time this happens. It’s the same thing, the same words laced with comfort she doesn’t want to weigh over hard truths that keep her prepared. Safer.
But they say them every time. And without fail, the world around them rises again in the morning and starts anew, and they’re a little gentler with her and let her sleep in their bed, but they’re back to ruffling her hair and ignoring her gripes about chores by midday. No robots. No attacks. Love, oozing through the cracks of every motion, word, and thought of the house, that none of them care too much to patch up. The war’s been long over and though she’s still stuck in recovery, waking up is starting to feel a little less like a curse and only a continuation. Picking up where she left off with life, sleep only being a buffer, nothing greater.
There’s a good chance there won’t always be absolute truth to the words, but they’re being said now. And for now, she’s with Yunan and Olivia. Who she would be doing a disservice to by doubting every word they speak.
“No one’s going to make you do anything that you don’t want,” Olivia whispers, “I’ll make sure of that.”
They’re receding now. The memories. Still urging her to scratch with her nails, but she’s dug one into the core of the bug bite and waits for the trick taught to her by a dear friend to quell the itch.
Fully touching back down overwhelms her sometimes even more than when she’s pitt falling through turbulence, but at least now she has enough trust to stick her hand out and let Yunan draw meaningless patterns on her palm while Olivia rubs her back and gives her water when she asks.
And then it’s her turn to utter the same sort of thing.
“I’m sorry.”
“What for?” Olivia says.
“Waking you up. Making you worried.”
Olivia sighs, long and slow, but there’s not an ounce of lecture in her voice, not a single syllable that implies she’s upset. “We worry because we love you.” But the part of Marcy that still bites wants to tear it apart.
“But it’s tiring. I can handle it on my own.” She curls her knees further to her chest, and Yunan tightens her grip. Cold blood against warm blood.
“That’s true,” Yunan pipes up. She’s not normally one for verbal comfort, generally better as a silent presence; so Olivia’s quick to sharply inhale in disapproval, but Yunan pushes on. “But it’s better, isn’t it? Just like Olivia said, no one’s going to make you do anything you don’t want. The same applies to us.” She squeezes tight, and tentatively rests her other hand on Marcy’s knee. “We go out of our way to care for you because we want to. Because we like seeing you happy.”
A warmth starts to bloom in her chest. It’s okay to look up, to look her in the eyes, to fling herself towards Yunan and whisper a thank you in her ear, because she’ll wrap an arm around Marcy’s chest and pull her closer. Still suffocation, but this fills Marcy’s heart and not her lungs.
Olivia watches Yunan and Marcy for a moment, keeping her thumb tracing over Marcy’s back, careful not to dip too low. She whispers how proud she is, of all the love in her heart for the both of them. “You’re never a bother.” At her words, Marcy turns away from Yunan’s embrace and faces Olivia, who wipes away a tear from Marcy’s cheek. “You’re strong, bright, and wonderful, and we would do anything to keep that safe.” It’s a rare moment where Olivia feels herself reaching for the hug first.
“It still must get annoying, though,” Marcy huffs, and Olivia’s chuckle rattles her cheek.
“If anything, we just know how to fight it off better!” Yunan chirps. “Actually, thank you, Marcy, I could go for some fly iced tea, and Olivia I promise to use the right cups this time.”
“Please learn to appreciate the art of fine dining utensils and how they are not for your messy experimental concoctions,” Olivia grovels, while Yunan gives a wink and a wave before the door is shut behind her. It’s dialogue that feels familiar, and healthy bickering is something Marcy can always find herself smiling at.
After a small struggle, Marcy is tucked back under the blankets while Olivia sits beside her, leaning against the bed’s headboard. Marcy’s head is hooked on Olivia’s shoulder as she starts to settle into the quiet again, inviting her mind to wander to whatever she, habitually, was always forgetting about.
“You guys were just standing there,” she states blankly.
“Hmm?”
“When… it happened.” Marcy gets the instinct to fold into herself again, and she feels so stupid for ruining everything again , just when she was finally giving Olivia and Yunan a break for once in their lives.
Olivia squeezes her shoulder, a sign to continue, as well as a silent acknowledgement of what she’s said. It’s a motion Marcy’s able to read subconsciously after experience, because her inner monologue doesn’t dissect it before she’s speaking again. “When Andrias put me in that thing. When it ate me.”
“What?” Olivia blurts, and Marcy’s heart drops to her stomach so fast she’s afraid it might fall out. She’s always saying the wrong thing, isn’t she?
“No, I’m sorry, I’m sorry-”
“Please don’t apologize, Marcy.” She can see through the corner of her vision that Olivia is looking at her, and her hold seems to loosen. Marcy’s back to being fragile to her again.
After a hesitant, weighted moment, Olivia whispers, “You can continue talking if you want.”
Marcy guesses she owes that to her, after making such an accusation. But she doesn’t know why she did in the first place, until it all hits her in a moment of blinding clarity. One she doesn’t care to unpack on her own, one that she would rather have someone more logical and emotionally intelligent dissect for her. “It just felt like you were going to leave me again.”
That’s what it’s all been about, hasn’t it?
“I am never going to abandon you, Marcy Wu, and I swear by that.” Olivia’s words almost have a sharpness to them, more directed at the parasite within her words than them alone.
“But you can’t promise that!” Marcy snaps. She hates to lose her temper, to get loud, to yell or scream, but she hates the feeling that she’s being lied to through a bright smile and sweetened words more. “You don’t know what the future is going to be like, and one day you’ll realize I’m not worth worrying about and you have better things to do and you’ll leave me!” She doesn’t want to cry again either, but then again she doesn’t want a lot of things in her life at the moment. “Just stop lying and saying you won’t because it’s going to happen eventually.”
“I’m not denying that it very well might,” Olivia shoots back instantly, but it’s not harsh. Again, with her calm approaches. “Half the things that happen to us in life go against our wishes. There are so many things out of our control, Marcy, and you have such incredible power to control what you can. To fight for a future you want, despite the odds, and maybe you’ll end up lucky. Maybe it won’t be worth anything, no matter how hard you try or how hard you want.” Her voice wavers. “But you are something that I want to fight for. I regret not ripping that stupid, horrible face that was too cowardly to look at what he’d done to you off right where I stood.
“But I fought it. I fought that feeling so I could have you here now.” Olivia taps Marcy’s chin, a request. Marcy’s too tired to deny her anything, today, and Olivia’s expression softens as they make eye contact, making it entirely worth it. “I have you safe, here and now. And I am willing to fight for that. And I can’t say that it will be forever, but I can say that right now, I will not leave you.”
Marcy hides herself in Olivia’s chest for a while, but neither seem to complain, whispering small conversations to each other as the world outside their walls starts chattering and bustling. Not even as the snot starts to get on her clothing, and Marcy dodges having to do laundry in a way that brings them back down to predictable, normal and domestic. Yunan doesn’t push for them to come downstairs anytime soon, but Marcy still smiles into her cup set out on the table, even if it's long been room temperature.
A new day crests upon their household, one in which Marcy manages to ravage the stack of books that Olivia brought back from the library in half the day. She makes up convoluted backstories for every item she sees in the antique shop with Yunan while Olivia searches to repair a grandfather clock passed down from her mother. By the time they leave the shop, she’s explaining the benefits of hydroponics to Yunan again while Olivia looks for flowers to bring back to the house. She smiles when Olivia and Yunan bicker over which candle to light over dinner. A day that is tiring, the start of which leaves the three of them exhausted by the end, but they say their good-nights with fondness and an ounce of trust that is left to take care of their concern.
This time, sleep is a buffer. Nothing more, nothing less.
Right now, Marcy is just a girl going to bed in a household that puts up with her snoring.
It still loves her when she wakes up.