Even after so long, Liv just couldn’t escape digging. It was a skill she was good at, no doubt about it. This was an easier task– a mile is quite a ways longer than a few feet, after all; though, digging graves certainly has it's own toll. Her fingers dig into the ground, pushing loose soil out of the way as she continues downward. The dirt here was thankfully loose compared to home, so it wasn't physically demanding. The mental demand was a completely different story.

  Upon return: her, her team, and the recovered survivors had returned to the mansion to find the sickly man dead. To further find out his daughter, the youngest of the group, had luckily survived was a minuscule comfort over their aching wails. Out of the survivors, one had died within while two passed on the way there. Alongside the one who held out alone in this mansion, that made for four graves.

  At least digging these had a point.

  Her and her boss’, now named Bruno, conversation stuck with her. With a new clarity, she could process its words, process the gravity of it, and process how truly infuriating it was. What the hell did it mean “it didn’t know”? After all this time, that was the answer she got? Anthony had also lied, but she had no clue what or how his strange healing worked. He had also saved her life, so she felt her complaints mute despite the smoldering anger that laid just beneath her skin. She could, at least, do something about “Bruno” by blocking the connection between her and them. It made her feel a bit better; not much, but a bit.

  Her hands continue to slam deep into the earth, the six foot hole taking shape rapidly, the fourth in a macabre row. Her digging stops, however, as the sound of one clearing their throat sounds behind her. She looks up, her eyes meeting with a familiar face shining in the moon's pale glow.

  “You’re hard at work.” Charlotte says, taking a seat on the hole's rim. “No shovel?”

  Liv scoffs, her arms crossing. “Ya know I ain’t gonna use a shovel.”

  Charlotte smirks, her eyes glimmering. “Because they’re inferior. You’ve informed me of all their inadequacies.”

  “Mhm.”

  After a beat of silence, Charlotte cuts the silent, a bit of musing in her voice. "At least it was a rogue demon, hm? We won't have to be here much longer."

  "Mhm." Liv repeats.

  Charlotte’s smile falters, her hands coming to prop her chin up. She seems to struggle for a moment, breathing in to speak before exhaling the thought away. Eventually, she finds the courage, her voice soft. “Pardon my forwardness, but you seem distant. Are you quite ok?”

  Liv grunts, shaking the glow from her gauntlets, the orange light fading to pale moonlight. Explosions weren't needed for this. “I’m aight. Just ain’t used to dyin’ is all.”

  Charlotte lets out a low hum, nodding her head in response. “That would do it. My apologies, that was a foolish question-.”

  “Don’t.” Liv interjects, burying her hand in the floor. “Don’t need yer pity.”

  “An apology isn’t inherently piteous.”

  “Still don’t want it.”

  Charlotte nods, watching Liv work. Minutes pass, the only sounds to break the silence being the chirping of crickets and Liv’s labored grunts. Charlotte interrupts it with another small clearing of her throat.

  “What did you see?” She inquires, her hands coming to rest in her lap.

  “Eh?” Liv responds, her eyebrows furrowing.

  Charlotte rolls her own eyes, a smile creeping up on her cheeks as she continues, “I mean when you… Passed for a bit. Heaven? Hell? Some sort of liminal Limbo between life and death?”

  Liv nods in understanding, the piece clicking in her mind. She had forgotten her mental note to inquire about that… Space. Better late than never, she supposes.

  “Went into my weapons weird space n’ stuff. Their ‘realm’? I dunno. Only my second time there anyway..”

  Charlotte whistles, leaning forward as she examines Liv. “A second? Impressive! I can count the number of people I’m personally aware of that have achieved such a feat on a single hand!" She thinks before she starts again, her voice nary a whisper. "Excuse my rudeness... But what did it look like?"

  Liv sighs at her friend's enthusiasm, a sense of aching weariness overtaking her. Still, she had already committed to telling her, and she wasn’t about to back out now.

  “It was all colorful n’ stuff, like a cloud.” She says, waving her hands about herself. “I felt like I was a lil’ spirit, and I could see a void in the distance.”

  Liv can already feel the excitement wafting off Charlotte in droves, her armor clinking as she shifts joyously. “How unique! Given your descriptions, I would have believed a sort of office to be up its alley. I suppose that would be a waste of energy, though.” She snickers, earning scoff from Liv as she continues. “Apologies, I got excited. Please, do tell me what you spoke of.”

  Liv spares a glance up to Charlotte, spraying a wave of dirt into the rapidly forming mound at the foot of the grave. “Talked ‘bout my life n’ their name.”

  “Fascinating.” Charlotte murmurs. “Care to share your findings?”

  Liv considers it, her eyebrows furrowing further as she digs. What she finds is more willingness than she would’ve thought, this strange weight boring into her, one she didn’t even know existed. She slowly nods her head, stopping her hand just short of her hairline.

  “Well… Found out half my life was a lie. Dunno what I was diggin’ for, and it don’t know either. Hell, it dont even know its own name. Callin’ it ‘Bruno’ now cause B’s in boss too.” She snickers a bit at the absurdity of her choice, just now truly saying it out loud. She shakes her head, her head hanging as she continues. “Just grapplin’ with the fact that it lied to me, that I wasted so much of my life on… Nothin’.”

  Silence reclaims the space between the two, the chirping of crickets making the lack of conversation seem almost… Overbearing. Still, Liv felt far better than she did before, the weight that burdened her soul easing its insidious grip on her sense of self.

  “I….” Charlotte eventually starts, her feet thumping softly against the walls of Liv’s makeshift grave. “I thank you for sharing such personal information with me. It means the world to me.”

  Liv gives her an odd look, wiping her brow as she does. It wasn’t the first time she told her something like that. Hell, she knew the most about her than anyone. Why the sudden thanks now? In the end, she gives a small shrug, returning to her work.

  “Ya asked.” Liv says simply, kicking down one of the edges.

  Did you know this text is from a different site? Read the official version to support the creator.

  “I still feel as though I must thank you.” Charlotte says. “Nobody has ever confided in me like this before.”

  “Pretty good at listenin’ for someone who’s new to it.”

  “Listening? No.” Charlotte says, her eyes peering up to the moon. “I’ve been listening to people for a long time. High society calls for more listening than speaking: holding your tongue, keeping a demure mask, verbal daggers hidden between flowery language– all of it. For so long, I've needed to see through the deception in every word. But you,” She says, turning her gaze to Liv, “say what you wish, hide nothing, and wear every emotion on your sleeve. I feel more… Myself around you and Donovan around than I do without. I cannot say that for anyone else, and to think you confide in me, believe me someone worth telling your deepest secrets.” Her hands clasp in her laps, a nervous expression overtaking her face as she speaks. “It makes me happy.”

  Liv stares at her, her hand coming up to rub the back of her head, a small flush creeping across her cheeks. She was receiving a lot of compliments way too quick. She didn’t do anything to earn them. She manages to mutter a small “thank you”, digging out the final few details of the grave while trying her hardest to hide the color rising in her cheeks.

  Charlotte lets out a soft snicker, an amused glint dancing in her eyes. “I should be thanking you, but I can see I’m making you uncomfortable. I apologize if I interrupted your work.”

  “Yer fine.” Liv mutters, dusting off her shoulders, rolling some of the aches she incurred. She was, at least, done– the final grave dug six feet into thee ground. Just as she’s about to pull herself out, another thump sounds out, a groan accompanying it. Liv turns her head, watching as Donovan takes his seat next to Charlotte, his own shoulders rolling as a cacophony of pops echo from his aching joints

  “Longest day of my life.” He murmurs, a yawn escaping his mouth. “But I got the Buggy up and running.”

  “Try not to crash this time.” Charlotte teases, her finger snaking out to jab his ribs.

  “A giant demon slammed into the side of the car.” He grounds out, gently smacking her hand aside. “What did you want me to do? Dodge?”

  “Not crash the car, preferably.” Charlotte repeats, her smile only growing further. Donovan responds with a scoff, his arms crossing tightly over his chest as he sticks his tongue out, blowing a raspberry at her.

  “This is why you’re single,” Donovan jabs, “because you’re a bully.”

  “Perhaps it's the extremely dangerous career path I chose instead of my personality.” Charlotte responds, her own arms crossing as she stares him down. "Or perhaps I just don't see anyone fit to stand beside me."

  Donovan rolls his eyes, settling on the grass below. "I think my theory's better."

  Liv looks between the arguing pair, slowly pulling herself from the makeshift grave. They were, at least, the same. It brought a smile to her, a response bubbling up from her chest.

  “Ain’t that the bot callin’ the kettle black?”

  Donovan sits up, his eyebrows shooting up as a dumbfounded expression takes his features. After a moment, he lets out a small snort, a smile creeping across his face. “You mean the ‘pot’, right?”

  “Pot, bot, whatever! Ya got the message anyway!” Liv shouts, an embarrassed flush overtaking her face. She felt the nagging at the back of her mind as soon as she said it. Of course. As soon as she blocked the damned things off, she messed up a stupid proverb.

  “Making fun of foreigners for their poor English? How cruel…” Charlotte teases, poking Donovan in the side once more.

  “I-.” Donovan starts, his mind working, his eyebrows furrowing. After a moment of contemplation, he lets off a small “huh”, his hands coming to his knees. “Well damn. I kinda forgot with the...” He starts, looking at Liv.

  "What're ya talkin' 'bout?"

  "...Nothing." Donovan says. "My bad."

  “Yer fine.” Liv responds, her own hands drumming against her knees. The three continue to chatter idly, the moonlight shining down on their figures, only stopping once called inside by Anthony, his nose stuffed with tissues from his unfortunate… Accident. Liv would have to apologize later. Just something to note down. There were more pressing matters to attend to, after all.

  The survivors, each ranging in injury levels, most treated by Anthony, come piling out, the eldest few holding the deceased within their arms. Their heads hang in grief, tears rolling down the cheeks of some, others holding fast in remembrance. Liv watches with a detached grief, mourning someone she never knew. She could confide in the fact she fulfilled her promise, the fact that these people had been saved. But did the promise matter if one party was not there to receive its reward?

  Her wandering mind halts as her team crowds next to her, holding fast in their silent remembrance. Despite her frustrations with… One of them, this moment was something peaceful. Even as the deceased are placed in their deep graves, dirt raining down upon them, the wails of those who knew them echoing out like shards of pain through time. Eulogies come out one by one, a remembrance of people Liv knew nothing about; yet, here and now, she knew more about them than almost anyone else: their favorite colors, their best dishes, the jokes they would tell to lift the spirits of the defeated, the hope they instilled... They were gone, that was a fact– but in a strange way, she could almost feel them around, their essence caught on every syllable, every glance, every hug. It was a somber song, a melody with no beat, a note alone in a sea of somber silence.

  “You actually did it.” Anthony murmurs, a powerful nasal in his voice. Probably from his broken nose, if she had to guess. “I guess I'll be eating my words on the way home.”

  He chuckles softly at his own joke, though an indisputable note of melancholy breaks through. Liv crosses her arms, her eyes fixed on the now filled grave, the earth still loose.

  “He ain’t gonna know that.”

  “Liv..." He starts. "We can’t... We can't save everyone.” Anthony says, sending a tensing wave up Liv’s back. His hand comes up, nervously patting her knotted up spine. “It’s never easy losing someone, especially on the field. It eats at you... And you wonder what would've happened if you were just that bit stronger. If you were just a bit braver. If you could've..." He bites his lip, the taste of metal permeating his mouth. After a moment, he lets it go, a small trickle of blood leaking from his now busted lip. "But you can't focus on the micro. You saved lives, more lives than any one of us thought you could. You did good.”

  Liv turns her gaze to him, to the bangs that cover his eyes, to the way his nose bends, to the way he smiles nervously, to the almost apologetic way he tries to comfort her. She feels this surge of emotion, this strange blockage in her throat, this wetness of her eyes. She tries to fight it, but its fixing a broken dam with tape. She hangs her head, wiping her moistening eyes as she tries her hardest to bite back the sobs that claw at her throat. She hadn’t failed, she did what she set out to do. She could rationalize that.

  Yet… It still felt like a failure.

  He would never see his family again, never see his daughter again, never breathe again. Those stories shared weren't actually him, they were memories of him: memories of people who weren't alive anymore. Even if it felt like he was here, he would never actually be here again. Everyone who loved him would know that. His daughter would know that.

  The knowledge of that simple fact was enough to break the fragile semblance of control she had.

  She feels her legs turn to jelly, shaking with the exertion of keeping herself up. Just as she falls forward, a set of arms fly out to catch her. Anthony pulls her in, one hand resting on her back, the other on her head. It’s awkward at best, but it’s… Calming in its own ways. She can hear his soft apologies, the small comforts he tries to impart on her. Not enough to stop the flood of grief, but enough to get her legs solid again.

  Just as she has enough strength to stand once more, she feels something cold and metal press against her back, a set of arms pushing Anthony and the figure behind her closer together from the side.

  “This is, uh,” Donovan starts, his awkward expression just in her peripheral, “really awkward. You’re good, though. We got you.”

  “Your part in the structural integrity, and comments, are unneeded." Charlotte chimes snidely.

  “I play an important role!” Donovan retorts, sticking his tongue out mockingly. "I'm keeping everyone together here!"

  Anthony looks between the two, a sheepish smile on his face as he raises his arms to back away. “I-I think you guys got the rest. I-I better g-go check on some of the injured people-.”

  “Wow.” Donovan says, cutting Anthony off, a mocking frown on his face. “You don't wanna hug us?”

  “That’s cruel, Anthony.” Charlotte chimes in, her head peeking over Liv’s. “You wound us.”

  Anthony stares at them, his face incredulous at their accusations. For a moment, he hesitates, looking between them and the mansion, slowly making up his mind. With a sigh, he walks back to the group, throwing his arms around them all.

  The moment is small, but a small moment is all that's needed as the mourning few return to the mansion, preparing themselves for rest after the long, tiring night. The dusk of their final mission, an actual success.