Lemons

Amygdala Circuit

Quinn dropped her eye from Besca's. She'd seen it, the pain that had just torn through her, the guilt and the pity.

Somehow the last one was the worst. Besca was in pain too. She hurt just like Quinn did. But she hid it for her sake, didn't she? Or, for theirs. She didn't think about it, didn't let it show, so she—Dahlia—everyone on the Aerie didn't need to worry about her, didn't she?

And now the guilt began to drip through her in turn for talking about it. It had upset her. She wouldn't let it show, of course. But it had. She had. And there was nothing in the world she wanted to do less than upset Besca.

"You're afraid. You...you don't know if you can do it, do you?"

Well...almost nothing.

"No," she whispered, pain and confusion and horror warring in her tone. "I can't. I mean—" One. Two. Three. Three deep breaths. "How could I? She...she's not—not like them." Her voice grew leaden, filled now with a deep, deep sadness. "She's just a kid. We're both kids. Why does she—why do I need to—"

She cut herself off harshly. No self pity. Any other day, and she might indulge herself. But not today. Absolutely not. "Sorry," she mumbled miserably, looking down at her untouched plate of food. She suddenly wasn't hungry anymore.

"I just wanted to know..." A long pause now, as Quinn built up the courage to ask a question she didn't think she really wanted to the answer to. "...How do you live with it?" Then, hopelessly, "Does it ever get better?"

Amygdala Circuit

But just as quickly, Quinn remembered her dream, and the thrum died to a distant hum. Still there, but muted, dulled. She looked at the data. She—she really could win this. She could. She could win, and go home to the Aerie, and go back to eating at Tohoki Grill and sparring with Deelie, exploring the station, talking to Doctor Follen. It was everything that everyone wanted.

So why didn't she feel better?

"Hey, um, Besca," she started, surprising herself by how level and modulated her voice was. A pain beat through her, short but sharp. She wanted so much, so badly, to call her something else. But every time she tried, the word stuck in her throat, then died there.

She stopped. She didn't even know what to ask, not really. Am I doing the right thing? It didn't matter, did it? She had to do it anyway. Do I really need to do this? Stupid question. The answer was obviously yes. That ship had sailed a week ago now. Once the gears had been set into motion there was no stopping them. And it was the day of. Why did this have to happen? Self-pity would only hurt her. It had no place today.

So, thoughts tangled, she opened her mouth again. Closed it again. Thought. She wanted to ask something. She did. She just didn't know what. Her thoughts were disorganized, jumbled about. Not panicked, but certainly not the epitome of health either. But eventually, she settled on a question that she'd had for the last week, both of Besca and Dahlia. She hadn't asked either. But this was about the last chance she'd get, wasn't it? Before she needed to deal with it for herself.

So she asked.

"...Have you ever killed someone?"

Amygdala Circuit

She stared up at the ceiling for a time. Willed herself to get up. Tried to muster everything she had.

It was hard. It was so hard.

Her conversation with Quinnlash churned in her head. Roaki was...was so much like her. So much like her that it made her sick. Did she really—

Yes. She really did. What other choice did she have?

She looked over at Dahlia, sleeping peacefully. Then, nerves tearing at her skin, she reached out and—no. It could wait. Let her sleep for a little longer. So she levered herself up, slid on her sneakers, and walked out into the pavilion proper. Her stomach was tight against itself, and she remembered with a grimace that she hadn't eaten more than a few bites at dinner yesterday. She felt sick. But she knew she needed to eat, needed to fuel herself. It would be a trial. But it certainly wouldn't be the worst of the day.

Following the smell of breakfast, she arrived at the mess. A buffet of tasty-looking foods was spread out on a long banquet-style table, people steadily shuffling down it as they waited their turn.

As she passed by the tables, the conversation quieted. She hadn't changed out of her clothing from yesterday, but it didn't matter really, she'd be wearing her pilot suit soon anyway. Eyes baggy and sore, she picked up a plate and walked to the back of the line.

It parted in front of her, and she groaned, rubbing her hand down her face. "Just take your food," she said tiredly, propping herself against the narrow end and refusing to move on. There was silence for another few seconds, but once she still made no move, the line reformed. She waited in it, glad of the momentary grip on normalcy. She knew it wouldn't last long.

Piling her plate with eggs, bacon, sausage, and a bunch of assorted Casobani breakfast foods she didn't fully recognize, she scanned over the tables, searching with a questing eye before she finally found Besca, sitting near the back corner. Plodding over, she dumped herself in the chair next to her, put down her plate, then placed her face none-to-gently against the white tablecloth.

"Morning."

Amygdala Circuit

With every word that Quinnlash spoke—each wavering of her thoughts—Quinn grew stronger in her own. She uncurled, standing up to her full height, and joined her counterpart on the bench, looking up at the void of an endless sky. The stars had flickered and died. All that was left was...

She let out a light gasp. A moment of revelation. "It's the same thing."

Quinnlash glanced at her, mouth pursed in confusion, then followed her vision. "Distorted, broken, but still the same in the end. Right?"

This time she was quiet for a longer time. Minutes passed as she looked out at the sickle crescent wavering on the black surface like a liquid mirror. Perhaps hours. She didn't know. She couldn't know.

"They were monsters," she suddenly spoke again. "They hurt us in ways that I still don't understand."

She took a deep breath. She still didn't know if she needed to. If she even was breathing, unless she did so willfully. The wind gusting by was growing stronger. "But...Roaki isn't like them. She's not an adult either. I think..." She picked up a piece of ice from the ever-full and unmelting cooler, then hurled it off into the water. It struck the moon, shattering the reflection into incomprehensible fragments of silver light.

"I think she's a little more like us. Us," her voice sharpened to match Quinnlash's and she glanced sidelong at her, "If we were angrier."

She sat down on the railing, meeting those black, infinite eyes. Her razor voice shook, but held. "She's us, once we enjoy it."

Amygdala Circuit

The black sky and the black waters rippled against each other.

Just like before, everything felt a million miles away when she was here. Even then, there was an echo of that crushing sorrow embedded deep within her. Even here. But still...

She stared out at the asymmetric moons. One above, one below. Different. The same. Shattered shards of the same coin, twisted 'round on itself.

"I...I don't want her to die."

She sat down at the edge of the boat, where she'd sat with Safie what felt like years and years ago, and dipped her legs in. They plunged out of sight, the inky waves consuming the light completely.

"I don't want to die, and I don't want her to say those things about our family." She flopped backwards, staring up at the sky, a moment achingly familiar and yet so foreign. "But I also don't—"

She stopped, collecting her thoughts. The broken stars wheeled above in a pattern that was at once right and wrong. Right and wrong. Right and wrong.

"—I don't want to kill. It feels wrong."

She sat back up, flicking droplets of black from her bare feet as she turned and pressed her knees to her chest, leaning up against one of the benches as she looked up at Quinnlash. "I know I need to. But...I don't want to need to. I might have to do it, but I don't have to like it." Her voice took on the ghost of an accusatory tone as she tilted her head at her younger self. "Why do you want me to make me?"

Amygdala Circuit

At length, Quinn's shuddering cries faded, and she released her deathgrip on Dahlia as she fell silent. Another minute or so passed. She remained still, unwilling to move. She felt...safe here. With her.

Then, still unmoving, "Dahlia..." Her voice was nearly inaudible; weak and weepy, it came out in a thin rasp. "...I ruined it, didn't I?" Of course she had. She'd lost control, said terrible things. She had been so angry. And so violent. Those thoughts, running through her head like a broken faucet, pure and potent as water. Fight. Fight. Kill. Kill. Kill. She didn't know which ones were Quinnlash's and which were her own, and it shook her to her core. Was that the kind of person she was, deep down? Violent and angry? What's wrong with me?

She shut her eyes tighter. Then, "Can I—"

The bunks were small, she'd seen them earlier, not to mention being on one right now. They were barely big enough for one person to lie on comfortably, realistically. And it felt absurd to even imagine asking it. Absurd. Stupid. Childish. But imagining herself lying there, in the dark, awake, alone—knowing what was about to come—agonizing over it—it was almost enough to draw a renewed flow of tears out of her. Instead she squeezed her sister tight again, clung to her, fighting desperately to keep the tears at bay.

"—can I sleep with you tonight?"

Amygdala Circuit

Quinn couldn't breathe.

Her eye stared out at the door where Roaki had just been dragged, threats still flying loud through her brain and ringing in her ears.

"---------------------------------------------------"

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She heard Dahlia and Besca. But she didn't really hear them. Didn't really even know they were there. Everyone passed in a blurry half-light around her, phantom images that didn't quite register. And though her eye was fixed to the door, it looked past it at some faraway place, watching Roaki slaughtering everyone on Aerie station one by one. Watching her come to the pilot's quarters, tear down the door, then go into Dahlia's room—

I’m gonna start with that one, right there, and I’m just gonna keep going.

"—let her get to you. She may be loud, but she's almost as new to this as you are."

Quinn finally tore her gaze from the imagined carnage and looked up at Besca uncomprehendingly. Painting her face was a look not of tension and worry, but of utter desolation.

Dahlia grasped her hand. "I should've stepped in. I'm sorry. Are you okay?"

Was she okay?

No. No, there wasn't even a word for how not okay she was at that exact moment. There was no way any word, or combination of words, could describe what was running through her head. The horror. The loathing that seeped through her, choking out the last of that fierce bright urge. Loathing for herself, for that sickening urge, drive, desire to KILL. There were simply no words she could find.

So she didn't try.

Quinn's legs crumpled out from underneath her, and she collapsed into Besca, planting her face on her shoulder, and a wet spot began to form. Even then she was dead silent, like she'd had the mute button pressed on her remote.

I'll kill every last one of them!

Then Quinn shattered.

And, wail after gut-wrenching sob, the silence shattered with her.

Amygdala Circuit

At that moment, Quinn's entire body tensed all at once.

She didn't know what Roaki meant to get at by asking about Dahlia. About friends. About family. But whatever the intent, it filled her with a thrill of fear and unease. And that was vessel enough for the prickles underneath her skin—so briefly quelled by the crushing tide of grief and guilt—to blaze back to life with a new and renewed fire.

Seething anger—she didn't know if it was Quinnlash's or hers, or even a melding of the two—coursed back through her. The liquid flame pumped itself back into her veins, flowing like lava beneath her skin as her hands clenched tight and her blood roared through her ears.

She bared her teeth, only barely choking back a bestial growl as she lunged forwards. Her fist flew out before she could stop it, and she only barely had the presence of mind to pull it back, stopping it right before it hit. Then it unfolded, covering that last distance and coming to rest palm-first.

She leaned in, face only a foot from the glass now as she dragged her fingernails like claws down the barrier. "Don't you get near her," she hissed through her teeth, keeping her voice as low as she could manage. "Don't you even look at her, or I'll rip that stick from your stump and break it over your head."

Amygdala Circuit

"No," Quinn sighed, readjusting the strap of her patch. "I was just a kid when I lost it, don't really know how." Which, even if she didn't tell the whole truth, was true enough.

She broke off eye contact, letting her eye roam across the Parlay. The Helburke flag, the crest of the Tormonts, the massive trays of food on the Helburkan side. On the Runan side, the board members—who she was none to happy with—and then...

Dahlia looked so incredibly nervous. She hadn't eaten anything, Quinn could tell. She...Quinn breathed in heavily. It wouldn't be apparent to most, but she could tell: Dahlia was terrified.

Terrified for her.

Terrified of her. Of her Savior. Of her weapon. And of what she'd do if—

Wonder what they’ll do once you’re dead, if, y’know, another one pops up.

She sat up straight again, then turned her head back to Roaki like it weighed a hundred pounds. Her eye flashed, glinted like a chip of yellow ice. Her voice suddenly went hard and sharp as broken glass. "I guess I'll never find out what they'll do." She cut a piece of meat, brought it to her mouth, chewed, and swallowed, never once looking away. "I don't intend to die anytime soon."

Amygdala Circuit

The silence grated against her ears, and she suddenly realized that everybody was staring. She managed to resist shrinking back and away, but only barely. Her finger twisted into the hem of the long black shirt that hung from her and held it tight.

Then the fork slamming down split through the silence, and she jumped enough to knock her head on the backrest of her seat with a bonk. She hissed in a breath with a wince as Roaki continued talking. And the more she said, the more bile spat from her mouth, the deeper Quinn's brow creased. Her teeth clenched, and Quinnlash's anger tore through her like a purgative, setting her veins alight before collecting in her eye, a cinder ready to catch fire.

"So why the fuck is Runa here? Didn’t you guys just get mulched?" The fire flared once more, white hot and brilliant.

But before it could ignite, the image of blood turned black by night running through streets lit with firelight and a boiling moon sheared down through it. A wave of dull grief sloughed over her, and the ember dimmed, then died. She slumped back into her seat.

"Mhmm," she droned, voice steady now, but dull and dead. "A whole town. Which was my home, I guess." She knuckled at her eye, pushing the tears back before they had any chance to glimmer. "I'm the only one left."