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Breathing hurt, now.
That was one of the few things that Ashes could actually manage to think, through the utter haze of blankness left in their mind. The charred, skeletal remains of Smooth Mickey were lying at their feet. More decrepit than Ashes' had been, just barely a… some time ago. They'd been stuck in this haze of change for long enough they couldn't quite recall. They could still see the gold tooth that sat in Mickey's jaw, and could almost picture the sly smile that always seemed twisted around it.
It wasn't the smoke in the air that made their lungs burn, though. The burn had been there since they'd woken up. Their breaths had turned into barely concealed wheezes and fought back coughs, that had made the Doctor click her tongue and sigh.
"…if it's this important to you right now, then I suppose the testing can wait until after." She'd replied, after hearing their request. "But be careful. I don't know how much damage I can reverse."
Ashes let out a breath (still burning) and kicked Smooth Mickey's skull to the side. It crumpled as their foot hit it.
Rat Bastard. It's what he deserved, for pulling a fast one on them. What he got for getting them to trust him, and then leaving them to burn.
A slow clapping rang out from behind Ashes, and they turned, raising an eyebrow. The Doctor herself was leaned against the charred stone wall, applauding the scene. She gazed down at the corpse of Uncle Mickey, tilting her head up and chuckling. "Well that was certainly a dramatic show." There was a sparkle in her eyes, one that they remembered Mickey pointing out to them in the criminals they worked with. It had always, always meant bad news.
But Mickey had ended up being a rat bastard— and even if some of what he'd taught them was true, the Doctor was on Ashes' side. Had actually helped them, instead of leaving them to rot the way Mickey had. And bad news was good news when it fell on your enemies.
"Not worth anything if you can't put on a little show with things." Ashes replied, brushing the soot off their hands and moving next to Carmilla. They shoved their hands in the pockets of their trench coat. "So, what now?"
"Not going to enjoy your work?"
Ashes shrugged. "Nothing fun left now. Just memories. And I don't particularly care about those. You said you had a way off this soon-to-be-smoking trash pile of a planet?"
"A ship, yes." Carmilla replied, gazing past Ashes and at Mickey's body. "And enough gasoline for your purposes. Jonny— my first mate— insists we have enough stockpiled."
"Right. You mentioned you had a small crew. They won't have any problems with you picking me up?"
"Oh, they won't." Her tone was so sure, Ashes wasn't sure if it was a truth or a threat. "They were rather excited about the prospect of a new crew member, actually. Wouldn't stop asking me questions while I was doing your… operation. Having debates over what instrument you could play. That sort of thing. Or at least, Jonny was having strong opinions on things."
"…right." Ashes let out a breath. This introduction was sure to be… interesting. "Lead the way, then."
Malone ended up going up in flames beautifully. "Not enough gasoline to burn down a whole planet", their ass. There'd be survivors, sure— someone had to spread their name— but the world would never be the same. No more Lucky Sevens, Aces, or cops to be known.
They didn't remember the surgery. They were lucky for that, at least, since they'd been too dead to feel it. They didn't need to be a genius to know getting your lungs ripped out would hurt like a bitch.
They did, however, remember laughing their ass off at the offer of immortality. Accepting it, on a whim, because whatever the fuck this tired goth could offer was going to be better than death. Then fading away, into unconsciousness. Then waking up alone in that dark torture chamber, surrounded by scalpels, vials, and wires. Their first thought had been: what the fuck have I gotten myself into.
When they woke up on the lab table this time, they immediately knew they weren't quite as alone. The chatter rose as they drifted to consciousness slowly. The first voice was masculine, brash and sat to Ashes' right. "—Those are not piano hands. Have you ever met anyone with 'piano hands'? It's when they've got those freakishly long fingers. Ones that make playing the piano easier."
A bored, feminine voice answered in a language Ashes didn't recognize. They were sat closer to the ground, voice quiet but blunt. The man scoffed, before responding as though the statement made perfect sense to him. "Okay, well you can fuck off and die."
"And how do you suppose they do that, Jonny?" A third voice responded, thick and displeased. They seemed to be next to the first voice— Jonny, presumably. The first mate, if Ashes recalled correctly.
"Well, you can go fuck yourself, too." Jonny told them. "I know my shit about instruments. And sure, maybe they could play piano, but saying they have 'piano hands' is just wrong."
Ashes would've laughed, if they didn't know better. Best to stay looking mostly asleep, and learn what they could.
The atmosphere in the room was cut immediately as a voice Ashes actually recognized contributed to the conversation. "Jonny, be nice to your sisters." Carmilla stated, the words scolding but no bite to the words. She was alarmingly close to Ashes' left side.
"Scuzz started it." Jonny grumbled. There was a brief pause, before he let out a harrumph. He didn't argue further.
"Good." Carmilla replied cheerfully. "Now, our dear new friend here should've woken up a minute or so ago, so either my formula was wrong, or they're faking being asleep. Judging by their heart rate, they're faking it." Shit. "Say hello, Ashes."
Fuck. That was a heart monitor beeping in the background, wasn't it? They hadn't even noticed it, too busy listening to the conversation.
They opened their eyes to find Carmilla's grinning face almost directly next to them, studying them with interest. It'd be frightening, if Ashes hadn't known she was there already. Still, it wasn't the most relaxing thing to wake up from surgery too.
"Caught me, I suppose." Ashes said, testing their bindings to the table. Solid metal, just like how they'd woken up last time. They'd spent plenty of time fighting the bindings then, and had left bruises on their wrists that chafed as they pressed to the metal.
Ashes glanced around them, at the crowd gathered. There was a man— Jonny, sitting with his knees up to his chin on the table next to them. He sported heavy black eyeliner streaking around his eyes like lightning bolts, a pair of battered goggles, and a deep scowl. Beside him leaned a tired looking woman in glasses and a large coat, studying Ashes intently. Her skin was pale, with a metallic sheen to it and dark veins visible under her skin. On the floor sat another woman, completely clothed in black from head to toe, including a mask and headband that only allowed a peek of dark curly hair through.
The dark-clad woman tapped her fingers on the table, said something in that strange language again, before rising off of the floor and trodding off decisively. Jonny whistled. "There goes Scuzz, I suppose. At least they actually popped up for once." Ashes raised an eyebrow.
Jonny looked back to Ashes, glancing them up and down. "So. You're dear old mum's latest victim, then?" Ashes expected Carmilla to object or flinch at the obvious mocking, but she just smiled like it was a joke.
"They are indeed. Would you like to introduce yourself, Ashes?"
"I'd prefer to get off of this table first, if it's all the same to you." They replied testily, trying to hide the nerves creeping up their spine.
They felt better once Carmilla undid the bindings on their arms and legs, though not by much. The other woman and Jonny just glared at them as this happened, unamused by Ashes' presence. Ashes had dealt with people who'd rather they not be there plenty of times before, though. They knew how to take care of that.
Ashes gave a small bow to the two as they stepped off of the table. "Ashes O'reilly, at your service. They/them pronouns."
The woman replied first. "Nastya Rasputina. She/her. I'm Aurora's engineer. If you cause any damage to this ship, I will make you regret the fact you cannot die." Her tone was dry and level, even with the threat. Ashes raised their eyebrows, and gave her a respectful nod. She seemed satisfied with that.
"Jonny D'ville." Huffed the other. "He/him. First Mate. Not at your service, don't expect shit from me. One that just left was Scuzz, our… what would her fancy role on the crew be?"
"Stalker?" Nastya suggested. "Thief? Freak?"
"Whatever. She hides around the ship and eats all our snacks. Uses she/they pronouns. She understands English, but don't expect her to speak anything but Japanese. They also won't listen to anything you say, so it's not really worth talking to them in English, either." He shot a glance over to the vampire doctor next to Ashes, tensing just barely. "…And you already know Carmilla."
"Wonderful." Ashes replied, glancing between the two. Once again, Carmilla didn't seem to notice the look. "Looking forward to joining your crew."
"Yeah, sure." Jonny laughed. "Let's see how you feel about that in a few weeks, shall we?"
The atmosphere on the ship was… stony, to say the least, those first few weeks.
Nastya had shown Ashes to the room she said that they could use, remaining stiff and formal the whole time. The only time Ashes had seen her soften was when she was bantering with Jonny, or when she'd pulled Ashes over to a panel on the wall to introduce them to Aurora.
The concept of a sentient ship was… not one Ashes had heard of before, but who were they to make any sorts of judgments on that? They certainly had no clue how ships worked. Aurora seemed kind, at least, and had told Ashes that if they needed anything, she was willing to provide, whether it was communications or heating. They appreciated that, at least. They couldn't figure out much more about her, besides that.
Jonny had been… less stony, more grumpy and confrontational. Every time Ashes tried to talk to him, he seemed hell bent on seeming intimidating and dangerous. Unfortunately for him, it was a bit hard to take him seriously when he was smaller than some of the kids Ashes had seen at the orphanage, and was frankly, the most ridiculous person Ashes had ever had the pleasure of meeting. They couldn't help but laugh at him, which just made him even grumpier.
Ashes saw Scuzz only occasionally, and talked with her even less. When asked, Jonny had stated she didn't truly count as a member of the crew, given she was only on the ship part-time. Carmilla had chided him by saying that she counted just as much as anyone, and he'd shot her a glare and grumbled something or other. Any attempt from Ashes to learn her opinions on the matter ended rather quickly, as Scuzz only spoke in Japanese and was very good at sneaking away. Ashes would pin them down eventually. Probably.
The real enigma of the ship, besides the crew, or the stowaways, or the flesh underneath the circuitry, seemed to Ashes to be the so-called captain, Carmilla.
Nastya and Jonny both called her mother to her face, but when they spoke of her to Ashes, called her by her name, or just "the doc" (or called her a mother in a sarcastic way, like they were reluctantly playing pretend in a game they wanted no part in) They stumbled over her name and the familial endearment equally, like neither fit quite right.
Carmilla had no such qualms, though. She called them all her children with a radiant, proud smile. Chided them on their manners, checked in on them, brought them dinner and pulled them out of their own heads for "family bonding activities". All the things Mickey had never bothered to do, back when Ashes had thought of him as the closest thing to a parent they'd ever get.
It was nice, in a way, they supposed. Having something… sort of like a family. Nastya and Jonny were warming up to them slowly over time, and Scuzz had actually asked them for help finding something at one point ("asking" being more a bizarre game of charades, in which Ashes purposely guessed more and more outlandishly to earn a glare from them.).
Mickey had been colder than Carmilla (ironic, considering his love of Ashes' pyromanic tendencies). They'd always known he was using them, and that the title of "Uncle" and his few moments of affection were to keep them on his side. They couldn't really have objected, though. He was better than anything they'd had before, kept them off the streets, kept them fed and gave them gifts and always had something to burn when they needed to watch the flames dance.
There'd been a few moments where they thought he might've actually cared, too. Proud smiles that looked real. Moments of comfort when they failed him. But he'd ended up burning them to keep the flame from scorching him instead, so that obviously hadn't meant anything.
Carmilla's love was real, though. Real in the way that she looked at all three of them with pride and love and always tried her best to be there for them to rely on. But Carmilla—
Uncle Mickey had never hurt Ashes, until that final moment. Not seriously, at least. Yelling, grabbing their wrist too hard, sending them into jobs that ended up with them burned or stabbed, pushing or the occasional slap. Small things. Enough to push past, at least.
Carmilla seemed to have been alive for so long she'd forgotten that pain could mean so much, in a way. She certainly still experienced pain— small injuries seemed to affect her more, really, and they'd watched her swear in probably a dozen dead languages when she'd dropped a vial of acid on her foot. She also expressed concern and panicked when any one of the three got injured, even though they were all immortal— and in the case of Jonny, most definitely not afraid to flaunt the fact.
Expressing pain was moot, though. They'd been taught that many, many times. First from Nastya's warnings, then from Jonny's screams when Carmilla had dragged him into the lab for a "check-up" as she called it, and then from their own experiences, eventually.
That had been the first moment that they'd felt Nastya and Jonny actually cared about them, they thought. Sitting on the floor of their room, sipping a glass of water with a shaking hand as they tried not to remember the pain. The two sitting beside them silently, just… existing. Even if they didn't quite know what to do, just being there anyways.
Ashes had thought Carmilla would help, for some stupid reason. She did, technically, they supposed. Helping, however, meant repairs, and testing, and pushing metal into their throat their chest their lungs—
The switch between the woman who sang while she cooked with a fond smile and the one who Ashes had watched goring the people she called her children should've been like night and day. But Carmilla was a loving, protective person, and a savage, harsh one, and that was true either way. She claimed she hurt them out of love, and maybe she believed it. How she could believe she was helping while they begged for the pain to stop, Ashes didn't know.
She tested things outside of repairs, too. Over and over again, noting each agonizing death down on a notepad and telling them how well they were doing like nothing was wrong. And when they snapped, or protested, or fought, Carmilla was never afraid to teach her "children" a lesson. Threaten to throw them out the airlock, if they were going to be ungrateful. Make the next set of tests more painful, or longer. Or drag in another one of the crew to be the subject while whoever had misbehaved watched.
"Why do you even bother to stay?" Ashes asked Jonny about a month into their time on the Aurora. They'd offered him a cigarette— one of the first ways they'd found to get a way in on a conversation. "Yeah, she's fine sometimes, but hell, I had a shitty parental figure and he never fucking tortured me the way she does. You've been here for what— decades? Centuries? Surely you've had opportunities to leave."
Jonny shrugged, not looking at them. "She's better than the shithole I was stuck in before. Actually feeds us. Actually cares. That's more than good ol' mom and pop back home."
Ashes raised an eyebrow. They hadn't heard much about how Jonny had came onto the ship, but they had a few guesses. Shitty parents was definitely on their mental bingo card.
"She— look, she saved me from some shit. Gave me a way out. Same for you, right?" He glanced at Ashes, whose turn it was to shrug. "And— she was better, when she first picked me up. Gotten worse over time. Weirder about us dying, and all. I can deal with the pain. And Nastya— Aurora is Carmilla's daughter, pretty much. Carmilla would never let them be separated, and Nas would never leave Aurora, and I'm not leaving Nas alone. You know what kind of freak shit those two would get into without me here? I'm her big brother. Got to look out for her."
Ashes snorted. Older in years, maybe, but definitely not in maturity. Nastya definitely acted like Jonny's older sister, considering that.
"Not a great way out, considering your stuck with— this, for all eternity." Ashes gestured vaguely with a cigarette, before taking a drag of it. Jonny grumbled a bit, folding his arms.
"Won't be like this forever." He didn't say it secretively, but like it wasn't really mean to be heard by Ashes. "Tried. Getting rid of her. It'll stick eventually. Then we can do whatever we want."
Ashes hummed, smiling at him. "Hope so." They let out a breath, repressing the flinch from the pain.
"…sorry you got stuck with us." Jonny grumbled after a second. "With her."
"I agreed to it."
"Did you? Or did you just agree to a way out?"
Ashes chuckled. "Life's life. I'd rather be here than a charred corpse."
Jonny didn't reply to that, just stubbed his cigarette and left.
When they'd asked Nastya, they immediately knew that they'd hit a sore spot, given the way she'd flinched and tensed.
"Carmilla is my mother." Nastya had replied. "I will not say she is good at it. I will not say it doesn't hurt. I will not say I do not hate her. I will not say that if given the chance to make her leave, I would not take it. But she is my mother. And more than that, she is Aurora's mother. Aurora would miss her."
Ashes raised an eyebrow. "She doesn't hurt Aurora the way she does us." It was weird talking about Aurora while they actively stood inside her, really. The microphones in this room were apparently broken, so there wasn't much risk of her listening, but still.
Nastya had paused. "…In a way, Aurora is Carmilla's only real child. We are all experiments, and we will never cease to be such. But Aurora? She was already immortal, as long as I am here to repair her. Carmilla had no part in that, and feels no need to fix her, the way she does with us."
"And Aurora doesn't care that she hurts us?"
Nastya's grip tightened on her wrench, and Ashes mentally weighed whether or not she was about to brain them with it. "Aurora is a machine. She may not understand people the way you expect. Do not imply she does not care."
"Right— sorry."
"Hmph." Nastya responded, looking away. It was clear Ashes wasn't going to be getting any more from her.
Carmilla, Jonny, and Nastya fit neatly into a family dynamic— Carmilla the mother, Jonny and Nastya the children, brother and sister. It wasn't like Ashes felt left out, really, but they definitely didn't fit in the way Carmilla seemed to think.
Carmilla called Ashes her child as much as she called Nastya and Jonny her kids. And even if the two hated her, they obviously still saw her as a mother. A shitty one, but still a mother. Ashes had lived the first seven years of their life without parents, without a family, before Mickey and the Sevens had filled in that gap. Carmilla seemed to expect that the crew would be the next to fill it, now that the Sevens were gone. But Ashes had been screwed over once, and they didn't weren't losing again.
Carmilla would never be their mother, just like how Mickey had never been their father. She might be a captain, sometimes a friend, a maker, sure. But not a mother to them the way she was to Nastya and Jonny. And even if they considered Nastya and Jonny family, they weren't siblings the way those two were.
Putting labels on relationships was stupid, most of the time, Ashes thought. It meant so much, and so little. Jonny and Nastya called themselves siblings, and that meant what it meant to them, but Ashes never really put any sort of thought into the way they viewed the two. Friends, sure. Calling them best friends felt weird, especially when they were, quite literally, Ashes' only friends. Family? Maybe. But not squeezing themselves into the basic "nuclear family" Ashes had never gotten to experience.
Even with how shit their childhood and "family" had been, they'd never found it in themself to be jealous of that sort of rigid structure. Too caught up in gender roles and balance, no room for fun or chaos. Mickey had been an uncle, because the endearment felt close enough to their relationship with him. A mentor of sorts, technically in charge of them, certainly fond, but he hadn't raised them, and wasn't going to interfere with their own business.
Carmilla wanted a family, and to be a mother, in all the ways that meant to her. And to her, there was nothing in there preventing her from hurting them. Discipline and help and experimentation all boiled down to the same thing: any one of them, strapped down to a lab table, begging for the pain to stop.
One day, Ashes would find a sleek bass guitar with a note attached waiting for them in their room. The next, they'd spend the day trapped in a room while Carmilla funneled gas in, trying to see what they could and couldn't breathe. One minute, she'd spend the day fussing over the way Jonny cleaned his harmonicas, and the next, she'd be throwing his corpse back into the room with a remark about how she hoped he'd be more compliant next time. One moment, and she'd be telling Nastya how proud she was of her beautiful daughter, and the next she'd be cutting open her arm with a scalpel to test if the blood was flowing correctly. Sometimes Ashes would be applauded for a wry comment, sometimes they'd be killed for it.
It kept them in line, it kept them safe, and it kept them a family, Carmilla would say. And sometimes someone would scream that family didn't hurt each other, and sometimes she'd punish them, and sometimes she'd start crying and scream her children didn't love her. Ashes couldn't say which was worse.
Jonny had said it was better in the beginning, when it'd just been him and Carmilla. Nastya had said the same, that it'd been better when she'd first joined than it was now. Aurora had told Ashes that the halls were filled with more screaming now than there had been. Not that Ashes had done anything, of course, just… time, they supposed. They noticed the decay themself, as months stretched to years stretched to decades on the Aurora.
Songs were a way to escape. Burning things, too. They didn't burn what belonged to their crewmates— even Carmilla, as much as they hated her, at this point. Being without Nastya or Jonny felt like missing a part of themself, at this point. Watching her hurt them hurt more than getting hurt themself.
"Why do you do this?" They asked her, sometimes. "You— you test, and you test, and you test, and we always come back. The only thing that's hurting us now is you."
"Love hurts, sometimes." She replied once. "I'm sorry, love, but— if something were to fail, and I was too late, and you were gone? I couldn't live with that."
"The pain is nothing compared to a final death." She said another time. "Would you rather leave me, Jonny, and Nastya alone without you in our lives? Without you always there, being as beautifully you as you are? A few surgeries is nothing, compared to that."
"Stop complaining. Unless you'd rather it be Nastya here, instead of you?" She said another.
It had began with the sounds of Jonny's boots scraping on the unnaturally warm metal floors. It had began with him looking the both of them dead in the eyes and saying: "She's gone." It had began with the three sitting around a table in the kitchen, trying to figure out what to do next, in an odd state between joy and grief that felt to Ashes like exhaustion. It had began with Aurora beeping to alert something had entered in through the airlock.
It had began with the clacking of a cane and footsteps on the floor, the three falling silent. They expected it to begin with screaming, but instead, Carmilla had just taken a breathe and smile.
"Why, Nastya, I think you may have to check the airlock for… glitches. I went to meditate in the airlock and just spent a rather dreadful few minutes in the void. Lucky I found my way back." A glance to Jonny. "Hopefully, it won't happen again."
Jonny didn't respond to that, just tightened his grip on the gun in his holster and gritted his teeth. Nastya glared at the Doctor, and Ashes had just let out a breathe. Foolish of the three of them to think it would last, they supposed.
It hadn't ended for many, many centuries, after that. But the taste of the void had definitely began something.
The next Mechanism was made shortly after that. A coincidence, an apology, or a bandage, Ashes couldn't guess. Maybe all of them combined.
Ashes liked Ivy. She was fierce, and analyzing, and had ended her first life in a fire, just like they had. They thought she was a little bit too attached to books, which were far too easy to burn for Ashes' taste. Pointing that out during their first conversation had earned them a knife to the gullet, which had just solidified their liking of her.
Learning what she'd gotten mechanized, though…
"Her brain." Nastya spit out. "You replaced her brain without even considering the effects that may have on her—"
"What is the point of this?" Carmilla asked, fingers brushing against the bookshelves of her own personal library. "It is already done. I can work on any glitches or problems she's having in the future. Do you think you could ask Aurora to change our route to the nearest civilized planet? I believe Ivy will want to start a library of sorts. It'll make her feel more at home."
"You could have replaced anything else. Her skin, a limb, her bladder, something like that." Nastya replied, ignoring the question. "Instead, you decided to what, challenge yourself with one of the most complicated organs there is? One that holds almost all you are? Did you even think of the repercussions—"
"It was… symbolic." Carmilla snapped her fingers. "It may not have worked if it wasn't. And I think she will appreciate the gifts it gives her. A computer can do so much more than a brain, you know."
"She's having an identity crisis. She woke up screaming from nightmarish dreams. She said its impossible to feel like a person anymore, when all the parts that make her her are gone. She cannot remember if she's anything like the way she was before."
"There's consequences to immortality." Carmilla said, sighing and turning to Nastya. "There were consequences that came with yours, and with mine, and with Jonny and Ashes. And if Ivy is having… glitches, I will fix them."
Nastya stopped, and Ashes pressed their lips together. Jonny was quiet next to them (a rare occurrence), arms folded as he glowered. As far as the other three were concerned, Ivy was in Carmilla's lab. Ashes, however, was standing next to the door, and could hear the quiet scritch-scratching of pencil on paper whenever someone was talking. She was stealthy, they would admit, but couldn't keep herself from taking notes.
"…You'll fix them." Nastya echoed coldly. "You— haven't you done enough?"
"Well, there's still tests to run." Carmilla turned back to the bookshelf, pulling out a copy of an old leather bound novel (very burnable looking) from it. "If her brain will allow healing to all parts of her body, if she has a negative reaction to certain frequencies or to magnets—"
"I don't know what I expected from you." Nastya snarled. Ashes sighed as the argument continued, tapping a couple knuckles on the door. The scritching fell silent immediately.
"You've got the memory of a computer now, no need to take notes, is there? Whatever happens in your head is going to be a lot more sustainable than anything you can write down." They whispered.
Ivy didn't respond, but the note-taking didn't start up again.
"Why does Carmilla do the… tests?" Ivy asked Ashes one day. "She claims its for testing reasons, and she claims she wishes not to harm us. Surely if she wished to achieve both, there are better alternatives. The testing isn't necessary at the frequency she performs it, either."
Ashes had sighed. "You'd be better off asking Jonny or Nastya on that one. They've known her centuries longer than I have."
"They don't like questions, and the likelihood they'll give me no or a dishonest or dismissive answer increases by 12.34% and 9.34% respectively every time I ask. I haven't asked you as many questions about her, so you're more likely to answer honestly. Besides—" Ivy tilted her head, looking at Ashes with an expression like she was seeing everything and understanding none of it. "You notice things. Study people, like I study my books. Try and figure out how you can control a situation. Make it so people play to what you want, whether it's de-escalating or causing conflict. You know, don't you?"
Ashes raised an eyebrow at Ivy. "You're observant."
"You haven't answered my questions."
"Hm." Ashes flicked some ash off of their cigarette. "You'd be better off finding a therapist or something, if you want some in depth psychological analysis or whatever. I just know how to make people tick. That's not a why, that's a 'how can I use it.'"
"One leads to the other. You must have some idea."
Ashes chuckled. "You're a lot smarter than I am. I'm sure whatever you can come up with is going to be a lot better than what I have."
Ivy had pressed her lips together and glared, letting out a hmph before turning away.
After Ivy, there was the Toy Soldier. It wasn't one of Carmilla's creations, but was claimed as a child, all the same. Ashes quite liked it, if they said so themself. Cheerful and dapper and lovely to spend time with. It didn't seem to quite understand why the crew would flinch or tense when Carmilla came in the room, or why it might find them curled up and crying from the pain of whatever the most recent test was.
It didn't experience pain, didn't realize the trauma of being ripped open and remade over and over, but it wanted to help, all the same. And it did, sometimes, but it considered Carmilla its friend as much as it considered the rest of the crew friends. Friends didn't hurt friends, it seemed to understand. Friends didn't always seem to understand what was hurting others, less so.
Then there was Brian, who's mechanization claimed the prize for the cruelest in Ashes mind— not for his new body, though that was a factor, but for the way she'd rewired his brain. Your choices were your own, and having a switch someone could pull to change your choices… that, that made Ashes shiver. It had gotten Carmilla and Nastya into another vicious fight, on top of the complete and utter lack of consent involved.
There was always a line between children and science experiments in Carmilla's mind, it seemed— and until you woke up from immortality, you were no better than a petri dish. And whatever you got dealt during that time, no matter how cruel, you were going to live with it.
Brian had quickly been added to the Mechanisms' little family. He was somewhat saner than many people on the crew, but his shock over the general personality of the group had passed quickly. The crew tried to help him with the adjustment to his new body, and to the morality switch, and to the ship, and all the best ways to keep away from Carmilla.
Ashes could see the cracks starting to shine through her. They'd always been there, they thought, but now? No one on the ship even bothered to pretend she was anything close to a friend, anymore, much less a mother. Her grip on them all was loosening as the crew became more and more tightly knit together, less and less dependent on her.
It would have been painful to watch, if she hadn't been the exact reason for their hatred for her. She could've amended her actions at any time, and now? Now it was too late, and she still couldn't seem to understand a thing.
Ashes ended up finding her watching the stars, in the end. She looked so, so tired. She'd always looked weary, through the millennia Ashes had been on the crew. It had only increased throughout their time on Aurora, and now hung over her like a blanket around her shoulders.
She'd begun slipping away, they could tell. Taken a step back to look at what she'd done. No more "family bonding", or experiments, or tests, just… quietly watching, as her children made their own family without her.
Despite that, she still greeted Ashes with a smile. "Ashes."
"You're going to do something." Ashes stated, instead of greeting her back. Her eyes flashed with confusion for a moment, before she sighed, turning back to look at the stars.
"You've always known people better than they've known themselves, haven't you, Ashes?"
They shrugged. "Be a bit shit at my job if I didn't."
"And what job is that?"
They raised an eyebrow. "Does it really matter?"
Carmilla looked back to them, propping her chin on her hand. "I think it does."
"You think a lot of things, doc. Not a lot of them are right."
Carmilla closed her eyes. "…You know, I think I'm beginning to realize that."
There was a moment of silence, as Ashes joined her in staring out the window. The stars twinkled silently, far below. Ashes had never found stars particularly fascinating, this far away. They had the potential for so much, when you could see the dancing flames close enough to blind you. Creating and giving life, then eventually burning said life to a crisp when it exploded or the life fell in or a dozen other things.
"…Do you hate me, Ashes?" Carmilla asked softly, eventually. Ashes tensed, inhaling deeply.
"Think my own opinion is in my business to know, don't you think?"
Carmilla turned to look back up at them. "…What did I do wrong? Why can't I seem to fix it? None of you will talk to me, and I don't— I just want us to be a family again."
Ashes sighed. "You've had centuries for that, you know. Centuries to improve. Centuries to try and actually fucking listen. Did it really take all of us hating you for you to think you might've done something wrong?"
The words were harsh enough that they made Carmilla flinch. Good, Ashes thought. She'd spent enough time traumatizing and re-traumatizing Ashes' family that she deserved to realize just how much she'd done.
Ashes wasn't typically an angry person. And they'd almost loved Carmilla, once. Seen her as a friend. But they'd died for the first time because the first fucking person they'd ever put their trust in had decided that they were as expendable as a fucking penny, and they'd had to have all the worst moments of their life afterwards because Carmilla had decided them and their loved ones pain was expendable.
"You never asked, Carmilla. Never listened." They stated. "Always making the choices for us. Always being the one to pull us along. The leader of our merry band."
"You agreed to this life." Carmilla protested. "You wanted to live forever."
"It was that, or die." Their voice stayed level. They weren't going to yell, or shout, or argue. They were going to lay out their cards and watch as she realized what was wrong in the picture she'd made. "Not much of a choice, is it? I asked you to show me what you got. And you showed me you didn't give a fuck about the people you said you loved. I was grateful you saved me. I'm fucking grateful I met the crew. But you never did much of shit for us after that, did you?"
Carmilla's eyes were wet with almost-tears. She inhaled, wiping her eyes with her hand. "So you do hate me."
"We've been screaming that for centuries, doc. You just never bothered to listen." Ashes shoved their hands in their pockets, and Carmilla looked away again.
"…I'm going to stay gone, next time Jonny pushes me out." She declared softly. "If you all really want me to stay away, I will. I— I've broken things too much, here. You all deserve to be happy. And—" There were tears falling down her face. "—I can see now that I'm not helping that. I'll leave."
"I think that's the first smart decision you've made in a long, long time." Ashes replied. Knowing Carmilla, there was half a chance she would change her mind the first night she spent alone. They weren't going to let that happen.
"…You said I haven't listened." Carmilla whispered. "If I did. If I— learned, how to be better for you all. Would you take me back? Forgive me?"
Ashes closed their eyes, thinking. No. Never again. "I dunno." They said, with a shrug as they opened their eyes again.
If they told her no, she wasn't going to even try, was she? As horrible as she was, she loved the crew. Having them love her was all she really wanted, but having them trapped with her would suffice, if need be. If she thought there was no chance, she was going to just take the easy route there. If she thought she could get their forgiveness— she would fight for that, at least.
Carmilla hummed in response, giving a small smile. "I hope so. I— hope you'll let me try being your mother again. I hope I can be good enough for you."
Ashes just grunted in response. Carmilla rose from her seat, propping herself on her cane. "…Thank you, Ashes. This has been informative." She lifted up her head and sighed. "I… I hope you'll be happy. Without me. And I hope that I'll see you again, someday."
Ashes sighed. "I know you do. And I hope I get to forget your face."
It was less than a week later, when all was said and done. Ashes knew Jonny had done it. He'd been the one to push her out each time, and he was practically shaking from the weight lifted when she was gone. Ashes wished they could feel quite that glad.
There was relief, of course— their tormentor was gone, and the crew was free. Jonny was technically in charge now, they supposed, though Ashes wouldn't trust him to run the ship as far as they could throw him (which wasn't very far, considering he wiggled out of their grasp and bit them every time they tried. Brian would have better luck with that.). As far as Ashes was concerned, they were a democracy now, and Jonny could deal with that. Though Ashes, personally, was willing to fill in the role of the shadow government, if needed.
One might say that spending any sort of time in the airlock after Carmilla's recent removal from the ship was a bad idea. However, Ashes didn't particularly give a fuck. There wasn't going to be a funeral, and it was just rude to send someone out of your life without an obituary, especially if you hated them.
They lit a cigarette, inhaling the smoke and breathing it out. "Well, you've kept your promise so far, haven't you?" They addressed the empty room. "Stayed out of our hair. Good. Better keep it that way. Won't be a party when you come back."
They glanced around, looking for spare crew members. Aurora was probably listening, but she was always listening, so that didn't really count. Ashes had tried to get her to assist them with blackmail on multiple occasions, given the amount of embarrassing stuff she'd seen, but she'd firmly refused, under the basis of it being "Unfair" and also "Didn't want the crew to feel like they were being watched all the time." Fair enough, they'd supposed, but still disappointing.
"You know, I've had two people try to be my parents my whole life, and both of them have absolutely and horribly fucked up. Uncle Mickey, and you. So I would consider myself a bit of an expert on 'fucked family relationships'." They let out a breath. "And you know what I think the real difference between you two is?"
They paused, for dramatic effect. It was a final goodbye, so it deserved that much, at least. "You loved us. We were your kids. Uncle Mickey barely cared, and left me for dead eventually. But you? You cared so much, and you still hurt us. Betrayed us, over and over again, since the beginning. Beat my bloodied, immortal corpse to the fucking ground. "
"For Mickey, it was just business, at that point. That, I can get. He was still a motherfucker, but an understandable one. I was an idiot for trusting him, and then he betrayed me. You betrayed me every single fucking day for millennia, all in the name of the 'greater good'. And you can't use the excuse it 'wasn't personal.'"
They took another drag of their cigarette. "So yeah. Fuck you, Carmilla. Fuck you for hurting the people I love, and fuck you for hurting me, and fuck you for sticking us in your little family when we had no other fucking choice."
They dropped the cigarette on the ground, and stabbed it under their foot. "And thank you for giving me a real family, and real friends. I hope we're all long dead before you decide you want to try again."