this is for goddessofcheese because i am a mean person and can’t pass up a challenge
Things are clearer now.
She doesn’t think of the past much anymore. The ignorance, the struggle, the suffering. How much of it could be avoided, how high the cost had been. Such foolishness… if only she had realized it earlier. But now she knows, she can feel it, her misguided purpose shifting towards the correct order of things.
But there are still those who refuse to comprehend. They would have to be convinced. For their own sake.
The battle has taken its toll, despite her gifts from her masters. Implants and devices meant she feels little pain. Further proof of the truth she has learned. This is only a setback. But the body is weakening, that much she can still tell, and the enraged roar of the teachers boils up through her throat and roars with her mouth.
“Your fight is useless.” Her words are flecked with spit, white and red against broken teeth. “You know it.”
The prothean says nothing. His expressions is flat and cold as stone. But there is a flicker in his eyes, something that tugs at the days from before…
From before when—
In the chamber, deep, deep inside the Reaper where she has been trapped, there were many things to focus on. The pain. The fear. The inevitable. But all she’d been able to think of were the people she was letting down. Anderson. The crew. Her family. All of them…
One face in particular remained in her thoughts almost selfishly. What would he say Would he be disappointed? Would he grieve? Or would he accept her as another loss, another grave marker to add to his list?
She let out a sob that could have been a laugh.
“Honor,” she whispered. “I get it now.”
Blood loss forces her to her knees, and the impact of the ground pulls her back to the present. The prothean steps even closer; she can see his knuckles blanching around the pistol’s curve.
“Useless,” she murmurs, struggling for air now to feed a failing brain. “There will… there will be more.”
His face is angry and he opens his mouth as if to say something, but the words seem to die on his tongue and he shakes his head instead. Instead…
Instead he says something she has never heard before.
“I failed you,” he murmurs, and the words come out with a voice full of pain. “I am sorry.”
Something in her, something she thought she had left behind, is surprised. In the midst of her sense of complacent acceptance of what she knew was reality, she found doubt. It ached, burning against everything that she knew to be true. It was disgusting, it was wrong.
It was wrong.
It was… it was…
She howls at him, mechanic voice overlapping with her human one, until her lungs are spent. Her throat is dry and her eyes are wet. It was a primal, unreasonable act, and she knows it.
But it’s her choice.
“It would be a mercy,” she whispers.
He is taken aback, but only for a moment, and levels the gun to her forehead. She wonders why he hasn’t shot yet. The man she knew would have by now. “What would?”
She can hear them coming back, through her skin and mind and heart, and when she looks back up to face him, it’s with her eyes but not her eyes. But she forces out a final word.
That small part of her left is glad to look at him last, to see the grief overtaken by angry determination. Yes. There he was. The man she’d loved.
She wishes she could say she was sorry.
“Yes,” he says through gritted teeth. “It would be.”
The trigger tightens. The pistol fires.
Ask the dead what they think of honor.
They appreciate it more than he thinks.
okay time to go be a functioning member of society
it’s fine all i have to do is just not think about sam winchester
or dean winchester
or all of the angels who fell from heaven and plummeted to earth
or any episode of supernatural ever
you know what let’s just stay in bed