—chapter one, or...

  ❛ i cheated death, and now (s)he wants a divorce. ❜  

MAY 13th, 2001.

"YOUR PACING IS GIVING ME A HEADACHE. PLEASE, TAKE A SEAT."

The eleven-year-old paused in her actions, but only for a moment; one glare tossed over to the old woman, before she started walking again. 

"Elodie. Sit down."

"Is that all you care about? I mean—" her hands flew up to the air, gesticulating wildly when the right words wouldn't come. "I-I just — I'm not gonna sit down. I'm too upset to sit down right now!"

The old woman sighed. "If you won't calm yourself, then I must ask you to leave. I'm trying to work."

The girl whirled around, eyes a-blazing. Despite her small stature, she drew a formidable figure — whether it be the way she towered over the sitting woman with no qualms for consequences, or the way her fists slightly glowed as they shook.

And yet, the older woman continued to work, as though it was nothing.

Clearly, this did not sit right with her. "Who gives'a — is that stupid crochet more important than me, now?!"

"Don't be foolish. And don't say stupid, it's not ladylike."

"I'll say whatever I want to say."

"Elodie."

But the girl ignored the sharp tone; she raced on, far too heated to listen. Her fists were turning a bright orange. "Is that all you care about? What the no-no-words are, and stupid crap like that? Cause — just — you don't even care about me a little bit?"

At that point, the yarn had dropped to the older woman's lap, joined shortly after by the crochet hooks. If Elodie had been paying attention, she would have seen the slight shake in Grandmother's fingers, or the way her eyes flashed in pain at the harsh words. But as it were, the small shred of visible love was lost to the young girl, and all she received was the same cold-hearted woman she grew to see as just another enemy.

"Don't say such vulgar words. They don't suit you."

Elodie spluttered. "I — what is wrong with you?!"

"Dial down that tone, too," Grandmother hummed. She resumed her work, pulling at the thick yarn thoughtfully. "Look what you've done now. I'll have to redo this row."

"Do you even love me?!"

"What a poor excuse of a question."

"That's not an answer!"

"Of course I love you, Elodie."

She pouted, arms crossed tight against her body. "I don't believe you."

"Well, that's your decision to make."

"I — ugh." She whirled around, ready to storm out of the tiny room, but stopped herself short. "You know what, Grandmother?"

She received no response. The older woman's eyes remained glued to her work. But still, Elodie ploughed on, undaunted by her grandmother's fancy words and unabashed tone.

"One day, I'm gonna get out of here. I'm going to leave, and I'm going to leave you here, in this stupid room with your stupid crochet. And you will never, never, hear from me again. You hear me?"

Grandmother hummed out a quiet sigh. "If that's what you feel you want, child."

"It is what I think. And it'll happen. I'll leave you forever, and you'll rot away in this stupid room all by yourself. Crocheting and hating me, your only grandchild, and standing for a man who doesn't love you! He doesn't love you, he doesn't love anybody! Don't you know that, lady?!"

She looked up then. "Calm down, Elodie."

"'Calm down', 'calm down Elodie'," she mocked. Her face was becoming more and more flushed by the second, and her hands - they glowed almost bright red, sparking with every clench of her fists. "'You need to stop before you hurt anyone, Elodie' — are you really that scared of me, Grandmother?!"

"I'm not scared of you at all." But she hesitated, and while it was only for a moment, it was enough to plant more fear. "This is for your own good, and you know that."

"I don't know that! Why is any of this for my own good?! All the things you and him and everyone does — what good is that for me, Grandmother?!"

The pair froze, then, staring down one another. Elodie was waiting for an answer she knew would never come — an explanation for the pain the young girl had gone through, a reason for the lack of love in her house and why her parents seemed to hate her so. She wanted her Grandmother to rise from her creaky old chair, throw down her crochet and welcome her in for a hug. She wanted her to tell her that she was sorry, that she really did love her and that this was all just a very bad dream that she would wake up from soon.

But, of course, that never happened. All that the eleven-year-old received was a call of her name — but that time, not from Grandmother.

"ELODIE?"

The young girl spun around. No one could have guessed she was ever full of that red-hot fury; all the blood had drained from her body, leaving her pale and shaking in the tiny room. Her fists unclenched to shake as great winds sweeping through, trembling with every syllable of her name.

And Grandmother just watched on.

She stared down at the older woman, fear filling her eyes. "You gotta help me."

"ELODIE? COME HERE, NOW."

"Grandmother, Grandmother, please—" she fell to the woman's side and gripped her dress. "Please, don't let him take me-"

"—NOW, ELODIE!"

"Grandmother, please! I — I don't want to do it!"

The old woman didn't look, only shirking away from the child's touch. It was with that action that Elodie realised far too much, far too quickly. Her hands fell from the woman's dress, and she stared at them, aghast.

"ELODIE!"

"You are afraid of me," she murmured. She buried her hands in her shirt fabric; tighter and tighter, as though the cotton would shield anyone from the unnatural fire brewing just underneath the skin. "You don't love me, you're scared of me. You want him to do this, you — you — I—"

"ELODIE."

Elodie's eyes widened, realising her mistake too late. She did not look back at the man in the doorway, only to the woman again. Tears dripped with fresh snot down her face, mingling on the pallid skin and painting a horrific image.

"Grandmother," she whispered, barely a breath above silence. "Grandmother—"

"GET UP, NOW."

"What are you — please, no! Grandmother!"

But the old woman didn't answer. She simply picked up her abandoned work, a heap of needles and thick yarn on the floor, and began to unravel the threads. She did not glance up to meet the girl's eyes, nor the man who thudded across the floorboards with a might that would shake whole cities to the ground.

"GET UP."

"Grandmother, p-please—"

"GET UP."

"Grandmother —

"Hello?"

Elodie's eyes flew open to meet a well-worn face mere inches from her own. To her surprise, it was almost the exact same woman she had just been screaming to in the memory. Only, the version she was staring up at was several years older. She wore a smile, too, an expression that she had rarely seen on the woman before. And never so wide. Elodie could probably make out every tooth in her mouth, gray and glinting as they loomed over her.

She frowned up at the woman, unsure what to say. Surely...

"Finally," the old woman crowed, before pushing herself back up. Her flowered skirt, full and down to her ankles, swished with every movement. "Humph. Was getting worried."

"I —" Elodie frowned, springing up. "Hold on—"

"—you were out for a long while, just laying there like a..."

The old woman babbled on, but she had stopped listening the second she had properly stood up. Her eyes traced over every inch of the kitchen she stood in, taking in her Grandmother, the rather old-fashioned cooking-ware, and the fact that everything was a painting in a million different shades of grey.

"This can't be right," she mumbled, to no one but herself. "This..."

She rubbed at her eyes, but that did not change a thing. Everything was stained black and white and weirdly, her Grandmother (if that was even her) didn't care. Either she did not see it, or this was just her reality —

— which brought up the question, what was reality?

"Where am I?"

Grandmother did not offer an answer. Instead, she left, ignoring Elodie's calls and questions completely. Her interest was only, it appeared, in making a new pot of tea.

Elodie moved forward, stepping past the older woman and through the kitchen doorway. She walked unsteadily through the tiny house, scanning for any sign of normalcy in its black and white walls. She had never seen it before. It was quaint and covered in photographs of people she did not recognise, faces that smiled and sobbed alike, frozen in their own plot of time. There wasn't much furniture, only a couple of scattered seating options amongst the frames. It was obvious the focus was on the people — but if it was really Grandmother, Elodie could not understand why she would display so many pictures of literal strangers.

She ignored the stairs and decided to head back to the kitchen, where she found the woman still by the stove. She was humming loudly along to some melody Elodie did not recognise, something low and sad. If she heard the approaching footsteps, she gave no care.

"H-hello?"

The humming stopped.

"Grandmother?"

The old woman turned to smile at her. "What's that?"

"Grandmother," Elodie repeated, then again, louder that time. "Where are we?"

Her brows furrowed down, drawing her face into thoughtfulness. "Well, I don't believe I can answer that for you. Sorry."

"What? Why not — c'mon, don't you know what's going on?"

"Going on?" She repeated, as though the words were foreign to her. "I...well, I don't quite know. You're the one who showed up unannounced. Shouldn't you be answering that for me?" 

"Well, I don't know what's going on. That's why I asked."

That answer seemed unsatisfactory, as the old woman just moved along with her tea kettle. Elodie watched as she poured hot water into a chipped mug and carried it over to a low shelf of scattered tins. She began to hum again the same tragic song, singing without any lyrics under her breath.

"Where's all the colour here?"

She earned no response.

"And where is everyone? Ellis, or — well, anyone else?"

Still no answer.

"Hello? C'mon, Grandmother, don't you—"

"—I'm not sure why you're so insistent on that word, but I am afraid I am not your grandmother." A wrinkled finger dipped into the mug and swirled about its contents, uncaring for the steam billowing out of it. "You must be quite lost, but I don't think I'm the one to help you."

Elodie baulked. "That's not - you're - you know me. Don't'cha? I'm your granddaughter. Elodie, remember?"

She passed her another thin smile, though it was becoming strained at the edges. "I'm afraid you're wrong on both accounts. We're not family."

"Yeah, yeah we are! I — your name's Leslie, your son's name's Archibald, and I'm his fucked up screwball kid. I'm adopted, but you always insisted on me callin' you Grandmother, and nothing else. And there's another one of us — Ellis, surely you know him? The boy, you took care of him for years!"

"You must be very, very lost. I'm sorry."

"I'm not lost!"

"Well then, confused."

"I'm not. Listen, I know you, and you know me! We're goddamn family, Grandmother!"

The old woman took her teacup in her hands and began to walk away from her. "Please use the front door when you head out. The back door's lock is always faulty and I'm afraid I'm not strong enough to slam it shut, right now."

"Grandmother, come on. This isn't funny."

"I'm not sure how you got here, but I doubt you can take that route out — so yes, the front door will be best for you. There's a shop not far from here, and the station will help you get to wherever you're looking for."

"No, I need you — oh, don't walk away from me!"

But the woman just kept walking, and stopped responding to all of the barrage. Elodie was forced to drag behind like a lost puppy, folding through corridors and long hallways and doors that probably led to even more questions, as though the cottage was a thousand blocks long. She shouted after the woman, asking a hundred questions and begging for any answer back, but there was nothing; not another peep, save for the occasional loud slurp of tea.

"Grandmother, please!"

Elodie finally reached out to grab unto her, only to be met with nothing but air. She swiped through again, her motions growing more and more frantic. But nothing changed. The woman kept walking, nonplussed, and she had no way to even touch her or make her turn around.

"What the hell is happening," she whispered, pulling her hands back to stare at them. They seemed normal to her, and she could touch herself as well as any walls around her, but the one person around was a ghost.

"Elodie?"

She whirled around and promptly gasped. Gone was the long yellow hallway; she was standing in the middle of a black and white forest, great trees looming over her head and birds singing within their canopies. Elodie looked back, hoping to see the same woman from before, but she was gone; nothing but forest stood around her.

"What the hell?!" 

A hand tugged at her shirtsleeve, and she spun to see a small child looking up at her. She wore a small smile, her face framed in a hat not unlike the ones worn in centuries long past by sophisticated women. By her side laid a bike; Elodie had to imagine that was her mode of transportation for her, though how she had gotten there, and where she had come from was a complete mystery.

"Who the hell are you?" She asked.

"I'm sorry for the discomfort," was her calm response. "Time travel is still a trepid device; it messes with the delivery, sometimes."

"D-delivery?"

The little girl nodded sagely. 

"Where was I, um...delivered? And why? To whom? And —" she looked about her, only to be met with the same foliage. "Where are the people I was with? A-and where's Ellis?"

Her smile faded. Her hand fell from Elodie's shirtsleeve and folded into her pocket. "I always forget that you don't know. What a shame." Almost to herself, she mumbled, "it'd be so much faster if they just got it."

"Listen, kid, I'm not gonna just let you do...whatever's happening. I have to get back to my brother, so if you could just—"

"—oh, that won't be happening."

Elodie blinked. "I —  huh?"

"You can't go back to him," the little girl said slowly. "You're already too far."

"What does that mean?"

"What does what mean?"

"Why can't I get back to him? Where am I right now? And no vague answers this time, kid. I want — I need the truth."

It was clear Elodie was only pissing off the little girl, but she couldn't find it in herself to care. The mere minutes she had spent in this black and white acid trip was taking a toll on her patience, and she wasn't interested in playing anymore games. And the vague 'you can't see your brother' really was not sitting well with her.

If it meant throwing a tantrum at a child, she could live with that.

"Fine," she finally said, frowning. "You can't go back to him, because he's not dead. He's far away from here."

"Y-you're lying to me. This is —  this is some kinda joke."

The little girl shrugged. "Whatever you want to think. It really doesn't matter to me."

"But I'm not dead."

"Not quite yet, obviously. You wouldn't be here if you were."

"But..." Elodie ran her hands through her hair, pulling at the strands until her head ached. "I-I can't leave him! I mean, he's only a kid. So you, you have to put me back with him!"

"Mm."

"Don't you care?"

She shrugged again. "In the grand scheme of things...not particularly."

"But he's just a kid!"

"Everyone dies. That's the whole point of life."

"No."

"No...?"

Elodie didn't know what to say, or do, or how to get any semblance of reality back to her. It was all happening so fast. She couldn't even remember how she got there, or where she had been mere moments before the black and white, or the last time she even saw her brother's face, before it all went dark. The idea of death was a frightening but foreign concept and try as she did, she couldn't recall why she was facing it. She was just there, alone and terrified, and all she had to work with was a little girl with a bike.

But if she knew anything (and she wasn't really sure if she did, anymore), it was that Ellis was where he was because of her. Wherever he was, if he was safe or hurt or frightened or not, he was stuck without the one guardian he had left. And just like everyone else had, she was about to let him down. 

Elodie stomped her foot, grimace growing when she realised it didn't make a sound. "I can't leave him."

"Well, c'est la vie."

"I don't know what you just said, and I don't care. He needs me to keep him safe, to help him, to...so you gotta put me back!"

The little girl sighed and picked up her bike. "That's not how this works, Elodie."

"Then make it work that way! Make that work!"

But the girl just walked right past her like no one was there at all. Her bike rustled sadly in the windless forest, leaves crunching under its and hers quiet steps. Elodie wondered how she was able to make noise, when her own footsteps were silent. 

"Hey, kid! I'm talking to you!"

No response.

"Kid?"

Nothing.

Elodie groaned and followed behind, just as she had done with the Not-Grandmother in the tiny cottage. It was surprisingly hard to keep up with the child; she moved far too fast for anything to be real, and she found herself pushing past realistic limits to merely keep up with her. Still, she pressed on.

"I have to get back. Please."

The little girl sighed. "What makes you think you're the only one who's ever wanted to go back?"

"I-I don't care about that. I care about my baby brother, and Diego, and his whack-ass siblings. And everyone else that was going to die because of this!"

"Mm."

Elodie forced herself to run faster, until she could pass the girl. She turned her direction, though, stopping herself in the middle of the path being made. 

"You do know, I can just go past you."

"I don't care. I need you to listen to me."

"That's your prerogative."

She knew that phrase. She had heard that before, and her Not-Grandmother had said it too. But from where?

But maybe, it didn't matter. Phrases could wait to be considered until after she got back to her brother, before he was left an orphan and abandoned with her ex-boyfriend. Indignantly, she crossed her arms and huffed. "I'm not going to leave you alone until you help me."

"You will. I can very easily make you."

"Okay, well — I'll do anything. Anything at all! Just give me a chance. I — surely, this isn't where this all ends! It can't!"

"And why not?"

"Because..." she hesitated. There was nothing to say. There was little Elodie had to offer, especially to a child who seemed totally detached from any realism. And if she was truly dead, then there was nothing materialistic or otherwise she could give to pay her way back to life. It was just her. And that particular 'her' was chock out of anything she could possibly offer up to unseal her fate.

"I've got nothing to offer you," she finally said, softer than she had before. Her gaze turned downcast, fearful of the piercing look in the child's eyes. "Nothing. You probably know that. But I...I mean, I thought...I've been ready for death, nearly half my life. I fucking hated my existence. Sure you know that too, right?"

The little girl said nothing, just cocked her head and waited.

"I have put up with shit, upon shit, forever, just waiting for something to mean something to me. My life, my existence, the air I breathed — it was all pointless. It was...uh, lack of better words shit. And, and that's fine, most people don't matter in the grand schemes of things. Whatever. You could ship me to hell at any point before Ellis, and I'd not bat an eye. I was just a tool, and after I couldn't be that, I was worth nothing. An-and for a while, I was okay with that. Could have taken my fate right down to the big guy on the fiery throne and, and y'know...

"But then Ellis came, and I... he needed me," she spluttered. Elodie paused to heave, before realising she was not even breathing. Her chest rose, but no air filtered through and she just felt worser off. She sighed. "He still needs me."

"What's your point, with all this?"

"My point, is that he needed someone to protect him from the big, scary world he got forced into, and that was me. I-I had a purpose! I vowed since the day he was born that I'd do anything for him. And I can't just...I can't just leave him, when he needs me most. I don't know what my life means if I do that. I'm not worthy of shit, if I can't just do that one thing. He needs me to be there for him and I can't just fail at that, too!"

There was silence after that. Nothing at all but her own feet shuffling in the leaves, and soft sniffles from holding back her tears. If she couldn't see the child's bicycle wheel, she would have assumed she had just left - and that was all that held her there at all. Waiting in silence, hoping something in her poorly performed speech moved the girl's cold speech.

Finally, she spoke. "You really don't value yourself."

"That's what you took from that? That I have a shitty self-esteem?!"

One stern glance from the kid, and Elodie clamped up again.

"Everything in life has a purpose," the little girl told her, waving a hand carelessly. "You, your brother — it's natural for things to dip in and out of the timeline, for loss and for grief. Some might say it builds character." She frowned. "And some try very, very hard to change their timeline...the worst type of people, really. Those who play with time are the reason for all my gray hairs, you know."

Elodie pursed her lips in confusion, but said nothing.

"But life has its own natural pattern and it should be followed. And allowing you to live, well...that's going against that pattern. And for seemingly no reason at all."

"But—"

"I can't just give you a second chance, Elodie."

"But I—"

"—I've met a thousand people like you. More than that. You're not the first to pass through this station, and I doubt you will be the last."

"I know that! But—"

"—so you're lucky that you're getting even this."

Elodie immediately shut up again.

"If you're weren't still technically alive, I..." the little girl's hand raised, pinching at her nose. "There's too many of you. I'm afraid I'll have no peace, when all of you powered idiots show up here. Total chaos."

Before she could ask what that meant, the little girl gripped at her hand, tighter than she thought a child would ever be possible of. Elodie was forced to her knees, staring eye-to-eye and awaiting whatever cruel fate she would be shipped off to next.

"You'll not have much time," she warned. 

"For...for what?"

"You're barely alive — only on a technicality, can this even work. And I am only giving you this because I need to ensure the task is completed. And...well, I'd hate to see another planet explode."

She felt her eyes bug at the very casual mention of exploding planets. "Who the hell are you, and what does that mean?!"

The little girl ignored her. "Your life does have purpose, Elodie Morticelli. You may not see it now, but you do have purpose." She scoffed softly, "even if it is being a thorn in my side."

"Okay, b-but what is that? And what are you sending me to? Where? Why? How?!"

 "Remember the name Livingston." She patted Elodie's cold hands once and pulled away, staring solemnly at the taller woman. "The next time we meet, Elodie Morticelli, will be in much different circumstances. I will not be so generous. Choose your path wisely."

Without saying another word, she snapped the fingers on her left hand, and pressed her right over Elodie's eyes. 

"Wait, but—"

"Elodie?"

The little hand felt as though it evaporated off her face, leaving only the sensation of touch left. Elodie blinked open once more, squinting up at a large swath of blue above her head. She tried to figure out where she was, or how she had gotten there, or when the colours had switched from a silent film to reality, but nothing was adding up. She couldn't even move her head really, try as she did, stuck staring up at the endless blue.

Still, it was beautiful. And it meant life — something she had never really appreciated, up until that point.

"Elodie? Elodie, are you with me!?"

And then, the pain hit.

JUNE 13th, 1960.

HER EYES WOULD JUST NOT STAY OPEN, NO MATTER HOW SHE TRIED.

The blue sky dipped and faded and she struggled to focus on even that with the immense pain flooding her system. She had never felt anything like it before — it was burning, or how she imagined a burning sensation to be, creeping from her abdomen to all areas of her trembling body. Like her body was covered in flames and cooking from the inside out. But she couldn't see the fire, or at least didn't feel it's familiar tug, so how...?

"Elodie? Elodie!"

Once more, she forced her eyes open, flitting about until they landed on the boy by her side. She squinted at the blurry figure. "E...Ellis?"

He smiled wide, wider than she had seen from him in a long time. "I thought I had lost you!" His hands rose and she realised with a start they were blood-stained; was that all from her? "I'm so glad you're alive!"

She tried to grin back at him, but it was hard to even look at him. The sides of her mouth lifted mere centimetres, forming what she was sure was painful to look at. "I...thought I lost you...too..."

"You're gonna be okay, though," Ellis cried, as though her blood had not coated them both. "We just gotta get you up, and then we'll find you some help."

"Where...where are...we?"

The boy grimaced at that. "It's a long story. Do you remember what happened?"

She tried, she really did, but it was impossible to process anything from the pain. All she could recall was Grandmother's face, and that strange little girl, and the feeling that someone, everything was about to get a whole lot worse.

She sucked in a breath, cringing as every cell inside of her screamed in pain. If the girl was actually right, there were only a few moments left before her body gave up completely. She was barely alive. Probably would be biting the dust any moment, if she wasn't careful. But Elodie was not going to fail Ellis a second time. She shifted her weight, crying out as her side pulsed.

"We...we gotta...go...find..."

"It's okay, don't talk! I'm going to help you, okay?"

She just nodded.

His hands left her, and for a moment she felt colder than ever in her life. But then he was beside her again, pushing and pressing and forcing her up past sitting. She realised he was making her stand, and she tried to help, only to find every limb hung like dead weight. She might as well be a corpse walking with how little her body worked.

"The kid wasn't lying," she mumbled, barely a murmur. 

"We're going to find a hospital, okay? And that'll help us out."

"Hospital? But...wait...no..."

Ellis stopped and peered up at her. "You got shot, and I don't know how much blood you've lost.  A hospital's our best bet."

"No...nnhhm...where are we, right now?"

Elodie forced her gaze from his to around her, only to find unfamiliar buildings and people walking about in quite different clothes. The sort she'd only see in old movies. The women wore loose, brightly-coloured dresses with matching headbands, and preened on the arms of snappy-suited businessmen or those dressed like what she could only describe as wannabe Danny Zuko's, just sans leather jackets.

A memory woke in the back of her head; nothing concrete, nothing more than a sentence shouted into the chasm of darkness. A kid's voice, but not the one beside her, and not the little girl. He was with them at the end, he moved in vibrant blue shocks - he was Diego's brother, she did remember that...

"Five," she murmured.

"Do — yeah, what about Five?"

"He...he took...us..."

Ellis nodded. "That's right. He got us away from the apocalypse."

"Thought..."

"...it's complicated," he finished gently. "I can fill you in after we get you to a hospital."

But that wasn't what mattered, right then; Elodie didn't care about the apocalypse anymore.  Or the hospital, or anything of that matter. What she did care about was that wherever Five had taken them, was away from anything either of them knew, and away from the others that had probably travelled with them. She hadn't a clue how his powers worked, but from the looks of her surroundings...

"...we...don't...we don't belong here..."

Ellis' smaller hands gripped at her side and shoulders, forcing her weight over his own. "We don't have time, we'll work it out-"

"-Ellis, you...listen to...listen..."

"...what?"

Her eyes slipped shut, then flew open once more. "We can't go to the hospital."

"What?"

The pain was getting worse, or maybe better; hell if she knew anymore. What she did know was that her time was ticking faster than a racehorse and she had only one last shot before her path was really, really over. And if she was going to make things right, then—

"—HALT!"

Well, that certainly couldn't be good.

Ellis' hold on Elodie shook at the cry, and she nearly fell to the pavement all over again. But it was the awakening she needed.

"I can do this," she muttered. "I can do this."

"Elodie, do you know if any of your boyfriend's siblings looked like...that?"

She didn't even glance up. Couldn't. With her weight half propped by the wall, half supported by her brother, her only focus was on her own hand. It was a great reach to even hope her strength could fuel any heat at all, let alone what she was trying to do, but she'd have to try.

"Elodie? Elodie!"

"Cauterize," she whispered, barely a breath in her focus. Her palm glowed from deep within the hand. "Bleeding...caut...er...fu-uck..."

"Elodie, we have to-"

"— go," she hissed. Her fingers scrabbled angrily against her clothes; they clung to her skin and soaked up the pools of blood escaping, but she pulled them out anyways, ripping the layers away even as Ellis pulled her along. Her palm pressed against the blood, then, and she bit her tongue in white-hot fury - the pain was unlike anything she'd ever experienced in her entire life, and the act of even standing was becoming a tormented one.

But she had to. For Ellis. The girl on the bike gave her this, she had to try.

Vaguely, from what felt like far, far away, voices called after them. She didn't know them, and from Ellis' panting, she could only assume he was doing his best to get away from them. 

"...silver eyes?!"

"What?" she mumbled. She hadn't meant to pass out again. "Wher're we..."

"...come on...now!"

Her half-assed plan wasn't working. She was basically getting dragged at that point, she could feel it, but her eyes wouldn't stay open and the pain was getting worse. Ellis shouted in her ear, voice shrill and painstricken, but she just couldn't get the strength to assure him things would be okay.

And maybe they wouldn't be.

"...help!"

Where the hell were they, where no one stopped to help? 

"Elodie...Lodie..."

"Ellis..." she muttered. Her hand slipped from her wound then and hung limp. Blood filled her mouth, bitter and ironic. "Ellis...need...Liv..."

"...sir!"

"...help?"

"...shot...bad..."

"...Livingston..."

She knew that name. She heard it call to her even as she slipped into the abyss; that was what the little girl had said too, had she not?

Elodie's eyes opened to see a stranger standing over her, and voices buzzing in her ears like a thousand angry bees. His lips moved, but she just couldn't understand it past the insects; she swatted at them, but they wouldn't leave, wouldn't give her the chance to hear...

"Livingston..." she croaked.

He grinned above her. His lips moved, and she recognised it then; a 'me', and a 'help her'.

A hand slipped into hers again. Ellis'. She squeezed it as tight as she could.

"...need...go..." she forced out, then again. "...listen...him...don't...go..."

The smaller hand tightened its grip, even as she loosened her own. But before the darkness could claim her consciousness again, she made her body promise to hold tight for as long as it could. Because there was no way she was letting Ellis go. Not again.

Never again.

First chapter. And...that's all I have to say.

Thank you for reading, let me know what you thought.