Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“Grian?”

Pearl’s feet padded down the long corridor, echoing off the stone brick walls. She came upon a corner, feeling the structure beside her as to not trip in the suffocating darkness. “Grian, this isn’t funny anymore.”

Shuddering, the ruins around her buckled, bricks cracked and crumbling from years of neglect. Pearl flinched, the sudden movement scraping her hand against the brick and tearing the soft skin. She peered around the corner, pressing the scraped side of her hand to her small blue jacket. There was nothing but darkness, a deep endless swallowing of night.

There are eyes in the darkness, you know.

Pearl shivered, the remnant memory of her brother’s voice resonant in her mind. She peered behind her, every movement and contour becoming a watchful eye in the darkness. “That’s not true,” She croaked out, as if to banish the thought, and a slight ringing in her ear she hadn’t even noticed ceased.

Gaining more confidence, Pearl peered deeper into the dark abyss. “Zee, is that you, messing with Grian? Taurtis? Anyone?”

After every name, Pearl grew more and more agitated. “I’m coming over now,” she said loudly, attempting to aid her wavering confidence. The darkness seemed to ripple and pulse as Pearl got closer, seeming an almost tangible thing in the crumbling hallway.

“I’m stronger than I look!” Pearl warned. “I’m only eight, but Salem taught me how to use a knife.”

As she advanced, the ground trembled beneath her feet, overgrown bricks splitting from the stress. With every step, the action became harder and harder, like she was slowly sinking into a vat of maple syrup.

“Grian!” Pearl shouted, her voice shaky. “Grian, where are you, Grian!?”

The corridor shook violently, almost as if it was laughing at the child standing in its midst. The darkness around Pearl cleared, her vision focusing to the new light of the chamber.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

As soon as she could see her surroundings, Pearl immediately wished that she couldn’t. Grian was splayed, belly down, across the purple brick floor, two giant slits cut into his back with horrific accuracy. His blood, sticky and crimson, seeped across the floor, staining the bricks red and filling the room with the tangy scent of iron. A mass of creeping black shadows held him in their grasp, purple light shimmering along the edges.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

“No,” Pearl gasped, her voice ragged. “No, you can’t take Grian.”

I think you’ll find, a voice spoke in her head. That we can do whatever we want to this world.

Pearl screamed, an earsplitting shriek that added to the clamour and confusion of the shattering hall. “That’s my brother,” she cried, running up and beating the shadows with her tiny fists. “You can’t take my brother, you can’t!”

Finally having taken enough stress, the walls around Pearl buckled and cracked, the ceiling caving in on the depressing scene. Her throat raw, Pearl screamed louder, desperate attempts to save Grian proving futile in the collapsing hallway.

Suddenly, a shard of cleaved purple brick cut across Pearl’s face, leaving an oozing mark across her eye. Gasping, she pressed her hands to her face, trying to stop the bleeding. She collapsed onto the floor, heaving sobs only adding to the din around her. “I’m sorry,” she sobbed. “I’m sorry… I can’t save you, Grian.”

It had been four hours now. The bleeding on Pearl’s wound had stopped, replaced by a brown and bumpy scab she couldn’t stop picking at. She’d been walking the entire time, trying to get away. Away from the ruins, away from the watchers, away from everything she called home.

Away from whatever Grian had become.

In a sense, she’d enjoyed getting to see everything outside of her town of ruins. The grass beneath her feet was lush and green, even in the middle of the night, and flowers of various colors and shapes sprang from the glen. 

Eventually, she came across a city, skyscrapers thick with grime in the silvery moonlight. Trash flew down the roads like tumbleweeds in a desert, drab and ugly like the endless gray buildings that filled the city. Pearl, seeing hope for a new life, set off into it, running through the outer suburbia, then deeper and deeper into the maze of asphalt and gray buildings, slowly stretching taller and taller towards the midnight sky.

Shivering at the thought of what lurks in the night, Pearl ducked into an alley, scrunching her small body into a ball against the slimy brick. Head and heart still heavy with everything from the day, she buried her head in her hands and cried. Her tears, warm and bloody from her wound, ran down her cheeks and neck, poisoning her skin with the echo of sorrow and loss. Through her tears, she could make out the blurry outline of a dead sunflower head, lying desolate and ruined upon the cobbled stone of the alleyway floor. A small shaft of moonlight shone down on it, silvery light illuminating the yellow petals. It was sad, Pearl thought, the way it never even got a chance. It had probably fallen from one of the apartment windows, for sunflower petals were considered a delicacy in these parts.

Pearl wasn’t sure how long she’d stayed like that, lost in the memories of everything she’d ever loved. She was sure she had dozed off one or two times, for when she looked around next, the first promises of dawn were streaking across the gray sky. Pearl rubbed her eyes, attempting to rid them of the crust from last night. Sighing, she sat up from her position on the floor, and saw two figures standing there, talking in hushed whispers to each other. One of them had blue hair, and was wearing a tattered jacket only a few shades darker than his hair. The other had bright copper hair cascading down over her shoulders and several lines of stitches running down every visible part of their skin, giving her an uncanny resemblance to a zombie, broken and stitched back together again.

“Oh, so you are alive,” the blue-haired one remarked, nudging his friend. “Told you.”

“Who are you?” Pearl asked, pressing her back against the grimy brick of the alley. The zombie girl took a tentative step towards her, and she flinched back. “Don’t come closer,” she warned. “I can– I can defend myself.”

“We’re not going to hurt you,” the zombie person chuckled. “We’re just… curious.”

“Well, don’t be!” Pearl scowled. “Who even are you?”

“I’m Cleo,” they said. “And this is Scott.” The blue-haired person waved. “Say, do you have anywhere to sleep tonight?”

“None of your business.” Pearl snapped.

“Ah, I see.” Cleo smirked, holding out her hand. “Do you want to come with us? We’ve been looking for a new member.”

Pearl wasn’t sure what she was agreeing to, but she was hungry, and cold, and tired, so with only a moment’s hesitation, she grabbed Cleo’s hand and pulled herself up into a standing position. “I’m Pearl,” she said. “Nice to meet you.”

“Pearl,” Cleo echoed. “That’s a nice name.”

“Cool.” the blue haired guy– Scott, Pearl remembered, grinned. “Welcome to the team, Pearl.”

Pearl.

Pearl.

Pearl.

Pearl!

“Pearl!” Her client was shouting. “You are the Scarlet Witch herself, this is a work deal! If you can’t even handle staying awake, then you won’t get any of my information.”

Pearl growled, but straightened her posture from where she had dozed off in her chair. “I’m listening, I’m listening. What did you have to tell me anyways?”

“I found a lone Watcher. Potentially kicked out, or maybe they ran away.”

Pearl allowed the shadow of a smile to slip over her face. Watchers were always easier to catch when they were alone. “Do they have a permanent residence?”

“Um…” The person shrugged. “An apartment near the iBuy, I think.”

“And do you know their name?”

“Ehh–” they squirmed. “They go by Flix, I think?”

“Flix?”

“Yeah…”

“Flix, the same name that my sources have informed me that your close friends and family call you by?”

“I– what?” the person– Flix– shrunk back in their chair.

“Oh, give it up,” Pearl growled. “I know who you are. Felix Mendellson. You became a Watcher in 2012, ran away in 2017, and have been living in Maplewood 207 ever since.”

“Wait, no!” The person stood up, causing the red-tinted glasses carefully perched on their nose to slip off, revealing their violet eyes underneath. Pearl’s lips stretched wide over her teeth, resulting in a smile that sent shivers down her former client’s spine. She’d spotted her quarry, and she was on the hunt.

“Ah, I see,” she hissed, as the Watcher slowly backed away. “Trying to turn your own bounty in for a bit of cash, hmm? Hoping that enough people saw you in the area for your story to be plausible”

“Wait, no!” the Watcher cried. “No, please–”

“You know, usually, I’d send my wolves to do a job like this, but this time, I think I’ll just do it myself.” Pearl grinned, her unsettling smile making clear her twisted intentions. She drew a shimmering axe out of seemingly thin air, and stalked towards her former client.

What happens next is an incredibly violent and unnecessary description of Pearl’s hunt, and neither me nor Pearl will blame you if you decide to skip to the next dotted line after this one. In fact, we almost encourage it, as I’m not even quite sure if I should have included this in the story. 

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Pearl lunged at her victim, slicing her axe into their soft underbelly. It tore instantly, even through layers upon layers of protective purple fabric. Blood gushed onto the floor, spreading quickly into a crimson puddle that soaked the concrete floor and Pearl’s boots. She felt her head begin to spin, and she welcomed the lightheadedness, feeling a maniacal laugh tear from her throat.

Spinning around to face the unlucky Watcher, Pearl tucked the sharp end of her axe under their chin and narrowed her eyes, still grinning. She could see the life slipping away in their eyes, see their soul slipping into the murky depths.

“This,” Pearl growled, and she could feel where the noise tore at her throat. “Is why you don’t mess with the Scarlet Witch.” 

She drew her axe back, and with a deadly swiftness, brought it forward, and the Watcher’s final lifebreath faded into the air in a wisp of smoke.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Feeling the dizziness from seeing so much blood set in, Pearl slumped back into her chair and groaned, holding her head. She waved her hand at the empty room, and twenty or so snowy white wolves emerged to drag off the body and clean the floor. The largest of the bunch, a wolf named Tilly, walked up to Pearl and laid her head on her master’s lap, as if to comfort her. Pearl looked up from where her head had been buried in her hands and ruffled the fur around the wolf’s dandelion-yellow collar. 

“Why does nobody ever tell the truth around here?.” she sighed.

Her dog let out a sneeze.

“Don’t look at me like that. I don’t lie, I just mislead.”

Tilly cocked her head, as if to remind Pearl that that was all the Mendellson person had been doing as well.

“I know, Tills. I just–” she sighed. “My emotions are all building up again. I’m afraid I might not be able to think straight soon. I just–

“Maybe Scott and Cleo are right. Maybe… I’m the monster.”

Pearl sighed, and reached up to quickly scrub a tear from her eye before anyone saw it. It wouldn’t do any good to appear weak before her wolves. “I wish he were here,” she mumbled, so quiet that even Tilly could barely hear. “He would know what to do. I miss him so much…”

Somewhere, on a beat-up couch several miles away, a red-sweatered man turned in his sleep.

Chapter Text

“No, no, no!” Grian hissed, muttering a curse under his breath. “No, this can’t be happening, not now!” He pressed his back into the chainlink fence behind him, wincing at the clang that rang out through the alleyway. The walls on either side of him seemed to close in, the white shapes of wolves massing around both sides of the fence and him. Grian felt his breath quicken, and a sense of dread settled deep in his stomach like an empty pit. He was going to die here.

Frantically, Grian searched the area for anything that could help him, anything that could get him out of here. The wolves were too strong and fast to be worth fighting, especially in these numbers, and the walls around him were too slick and smooth to scale. He could climb the chainlink fence, but then he’d just be higher up and still surrounded. The higher you go, the worse you fall, and Grian had no intention of falling from six feet up into a sea of gaping maws.

Suddenly, a hungry growl in Grian’s ear snapped him back to reality. “Hey– Whoa!” he shouted. “I’m not– I’m not a Watcher! Just– just a funny-looking avian!” His pleas were met with nothing but disbelieving growls. The murderous pack slowly advanced towards him, like they were giving him one last chance to talk himself out of the situation. 

Fuck it, Grian decided, and leapt onto the chainlink fence, pushing his oversized square glasses up on his nose. He scurried up the interwoven metal and reached the top, adrenaline pumping through his veins. Wolves leapt at the fence after him, making the structure shake violently as they snapped at his clothes. Grian clutched at a nearby drainage pipe for support. 

A drainage pipe.

Spotting his chance, Grian leapt off the chainlink fence and latched onto the decaying bronze pipe, scrambling up the wall with some minor help from his lilac wings. Gasping, Grian finally pulled himself up onto the roof of the apartment complex he had been unceremoniously sandwiched between just a moment ago. He caught his breath, swinging his legs over the edge of the building. Up here, he was free; this was one place he was sure the wolves couldn’t go.

His heartbeat finally slowing down, Grian leaned back with his hands on the roof and breathed. He’d be safe for another few hours, before he needed to find a place to get food and sleep. Hopefully, he could manage to beg his way onto someone’s couch the way he’d been doing (Grian was far too properly British to sleep outside, even if basically the only clothing he owned was a red sweater with far too much emergency stitching and a few pairs of durable gray pants). Martyn and Jimmy’s place wasn’t too far away, he reckoned, and BigB’s was pretty close. Even Mumbo could work. Grian didn’t know him very well yet, but he was fairly sure he wouldn’t mind.

Suddenly, a series of powerful clangs rang from the rood access door ten feet away, startling Grian from his thoughts. He jumped to his feet and cautiously peered at the door. Through the small glass panel, he could see the shapes of wolves, throwing themselves against the metal. With normal wolves, this wouldn’t have been a problem, but the snowy white wolves were built like tanks. As Grian stood there trembling, the roof access door trembled beneath the pack’s weight. Slowly, the roof access door buckled, bent, and finally broke in an explosion of dust and metal.

Less than half a second later, Grian was on the run, using his dazzling purple wings to propel him between buildings. Nobody had ever taught him to properly fly, so he made do with gliding and the occasional awkward flap. The white wolves snapped at his feathers, letting the runaway ones fly away in the wind.

“Why?!” Grian hissed between breaths, angling his eyes toward the sky. “That door was pure iron, and I know for a fact wolves can’t climb ladders.”

The intermittent clouds gave him no answers, so Grian ran. He’d heard once that humans had more stamina than most other creatures, and that was how they’d hunt, chasing their prey until it couldn’t run anymore. Now, he felt like the prey, herded and hunted over endless rooftops until he inevitably died. Grian could hear his heart in his ears, beating out of his chest and touching his brain. 

Suddenly, his foot caught on the railing on the edge of a building. Grian went flying over the edge of the building and onto a rusted collapsible fire escape. It groaned under his weight, but didn’t break, and he let out a sigh of relief. Quickly, he collapsed the fire escape against the wall, squishing it against his body, and watched in delight as the wolves leaped off the side of the building after him, falling to the harsh concrete below. Exhaling a sigh of relief, Grian un-collapsed the fire escape just a bit, ignoring the usage warning stickers all over it. He peered in the closest window, and spotted a little orange cat sleeping peacefully on a floral-print couch. He smiled, but turned away and climbed over to the other windows. He saw a pair of children doing a jigsaw puzzle, a middle-aged woman doing a crossword at a table, and all other sorts of random scenes. He sprinkled gray dust on the ground behind him as he walked, sweeping it up and tossing lilac feathers over the edge of the railing as he went.

Finally, he peered in the last window on this side of the apartment block, and gasped, hardly believing his luck. A blond yellow-feathered canary hybrid was asleep on a faded green couch, his head in a certain blond green-shirted man’s lap. Grian grinned, and leaned forward, rapping the window. Martyn tilted his head slightly, but didn’t turn toward the window, giving him a glimpse of the earplug in his ear. Grian cursed under his breath. Of course they would both be wearing earplugs; it was the same reason he was wearing glasses too big for his face. 

He always forgot he wasn’t the only one taken.

Grian tugged on the window, letting out a little chirp of victory when it opened. He’s not an avian by any means, but his wings existence gave him more than enough instincts and chirps to be one. He tumbled through the window and onto the floor, shaking the flimsy apartment, and Martyn finally turned around. He smiled when he saw Grian, effortlessly grabbing a small case and switching out the giant earplugs in his ears for smaller ones. 

“Hey, Grian.” Martyn chuckled, adjusting the device in his left ear. “Nice of you to drop in.”

“Hey, Martyn.” Grian responded with a cheeky grin. “Nice of you to leave your window open.”

“The lock’s broken, it wouldn’t matter anyway.”

“I know the feeling. How’s Tim?”

“Sleeping.” Martyn gestured at the couch. “He won’t wake up for a while. You know how it is.”

Grian laughed. “Speaking of, could I crash here tonight? The wolves are after me again.”

“Again, man? Did you lead them here?”

“No, I lost them a few blocks back. Used ash to cover my scent.”

“Leaving a trail of ash to follow instead? Smart, G.”

“No– I–” Grian spluttered. “I swept it up! And left a fake scent trail with feathers.”

Martyn laughed. “Just messing with you. Of course you can sleep here. It’s been a while since you came around. You should come live with us again. We’ve missed you!”

Grian smiled. “I’ve missed you guys too, but I can’t lead the wolves to you guys again. It has been a while, though. I see you got new earplugs!”

“Yeah.” Martyn touched his ear lightly. “They’re a different brand, and they block out just enough noise. They make it so I don’t get overwhelmed but I can still hear the things I need to. Jimmy likes them too.”

“I’m glad. It’s hard finding things for… our purposes.”

“It sure is. You got lucky with those fun glasses of yours, G.”

Grian smiled at the thought of the glasses perched on his nose. He’d found them while dumpster diving his first day away from the Watchers. He wasn’t nearsighted, so he didn’t need them, but they blurred the world around him just enough to the point where he didn’t see too much. It was a perfect, if unconventional, use for them. “Sure did. Do you guys have any food, by chance?”

“Didn’t have a chance to raid the local gas station yet?” Martyn laughed, spinning on his heel and motioning for Grian to follow him to the kitchen. “We’ve got dry cereal and cheddar cheese, I think.”

“Just that?” Grian chuckled. “Wow, good to know you haven’t changed, Martyn.”

Martyn just grinned and put a package of pre-sliced cheese on the table. “You eat that. I’ll go wake Jim, he’ll want to say hi.”

Grian watched as his friend and former roommate walked out of the room, then sighed and put his head in his hands, leaning on the table. He wanted to stay, he really did. His time with Martyn and Jimmy had been the best time of his entire life after the Watchers. He couldn’t risk their lives again, though.

Not after last time.

Grian still remembered, of course he did. He’d gotten a little too hungry and nearly hurt some of the people he loved the most. He couldn’t let them know it was him, when he regained his senses, so he told Martyn and Jimmy it was the wolves. The white wolves who snuck into their rooms in the middle of the night, who tried to murder them while they slept.

They didn’t need to know that Grian had made sure no wolves could ever find their apartment. They didn’t need to know that he had left the scars on Martyn’s back.

They didn’t need to know he left to protect them from himself.

“G, are you alright?” Martyn tapped Grian on the shoulder, making him leap up from where his head was on the table.

“Gah!” Grian shouted. “You can’t just do that to a man, hello?”

“He’s alive!” Jimmy shouted triumphantly, pumping his fist in the air. “Hey, Grian!”

“Hello, Tim.” Grian forced a smile on his face, settling back into the present.

Jimmy smiled back. “What are you doing here? I haven’t seen you in a long time!”

“I’m just crashing here for the night. The white wolves caught onto my scent again, but they won’t be following me, rest assured.”

Martyn and Jimmy sat down at the other seats at the table and took some of the cheese from the package. “Have you not eaten any, Grian?” Martyn asked. 

Grian shrugged. He knew he couldn’t eat it, he’d only asked for food as a distraction so he could recollect his thoughts. 

“Come on, G, I thought you were hungry!” Martyn laughed, and held out to him a slice of cheese. Grian reluctantly took and ate it. The consequences of human food were for future Grian, and future Grian could deal with it. Right now, cheese was good. The trio sat around the circular table, eating cheese and catching up late into the night until they finally settled down and went to sleep.

* * * * * *

“Urgh,” Grian groaned, leaning back on the rooftop and covering his face with his hands. He hated throwing up, hated it with every fiber of his being. He’d gotten himself into this, though, with the cheese. Grian missed the days when he could just disappear around dinnertime to hunt and nobody would question it, but those were far behind him, he supposed.

The rooftop access door behind him clanked open, and Grian jerked into a sitting position, thinking it was the wolves again. He tentatively peered over his shoulder, just to see Martyn walking toward him. He relaxed his stance, laying back down on the rooftop and crossing his arms behind his head.

“Whatcha doing up here, Grian?” Martyn smiled, coming to sit next to his friend.

Grian shrugged. “Can’t sleep. You know how it is.”

Martyn sighed, and laid down next to Grian. “Do you think they’re still out there?”

Grian held his breath. “I… I saw BigB. He’s alive. He lives near the iBuy, in a little house. I went to see him a few times. He misses you.”

“Is anyone else alive? Is Netty…?”

Grian shook his head. “I haven’t seen anyone but BigB. Not even Pearl.”

“Not even a sign?”

“I saw…” Grian swallowed. “I saw Zee’s goggles. They were in a puddle of blood. No body, but no human can lose that much and survive.”

Martyn sucked in a breath. “Are you sure they were Zee’s?”

“They had his name etched into the inside, just like he always did. A little cartoon squid, too.”

“I… I saw something too.” Martyn looked anywhere but Grian.

Grian glanced at his companion. “What was it?”

“A newspaper report. Six people were murdered in a mansion just north of here. Taurtis’ name was among the victims. I… He’s gone, Grian, I’m sorry.”

Grian froze. “What?”

“Taurtis is dead. He was killed.”

Grian shook his head in disbelief. He hadn’t realized Taurtis had been one of them. He thought… he thought it was just random people. He’d checked all the names, making sure none of them were anyone he knew. Grian had just been so hungry, he hadn’t…

He hadn’t noticed that he was letting some of the only family he had left die beneath his hands.

“Are you gonna be okay, Grian?” Martyn’s concerned voice cut through Grian’s thoughts. 

“I– Yeah, I’ll be fine.” Grian stammered. “I just– I–”

“It’s okay, Grian. You’re gonna be okay. You have me and Jim, yeah? And BigB?”

Grian reached up to wipe a tear from his eye. “I know. I know.”

Martyn leaned over and wrapped his arms around Grian, and they both cried harder. Grian looked up between gasping breaths, and saw the night sky. Usually, anyone anywhere near the city couldn’t see any stars at all, the light pollution being too much, but tonight was different.

“Look, Martyn,” he smiled, tears falling freely from his eyes. “You can see the stars.”

The duo looked up to the sky together, and the midnight sky reached forward and wrapped them in a blanket of whirling galaxies and endless possibilities.

“The moon’s so bright tonight…”

Chapter Text

Scopaesthesia is the scientific name for feeling eyes on the back of your neck. Nobody quite knows how it happens, or how it came to be. Some scientists believe that it means vision is a force like any other, while others believe it has to do with detecting body language or the whites of our eyes.

Pearl wasn’t the most scientific person, but even she had to admit the feeling was uncanny, especially in situations like these.

Her feet pounded across the rocky floor, echoing off the stone brick walls. Alleyways were common places for those familiar with crime, and the higher you were on the metaphorical food chain, the safer you were. Theoretically, it should have been perfectly safe for the Scarlet Witch and her wolves, but Pearl could still feel the shadows of the night watching her every move and turn and glance and breath.

Something danced up Pearl’s spine.

She decided she didn’t like it.

Pulling her blood-red coat closer around her shoulders, Pearl marched on, vigorously glaring at any and all of the wayward shadows in the dark. It made her feel rather silly, but the Scarlet Witch couldn’t bring herself to care. It would be worth it to potentially catch her stalker in the act; red-handed, if you will.

Suddenly, something– or someone– shifted on the fire escape above. A figure dropped from the sky and wrapped its arms around her neck. Pearl should have been scared out of her mind, too terrified to move, but all she felt was the rush of adrenaline.

A raspy cackle escaped her throat, and she gave her wolves hidden in the shadows a toothy grin. Her attacker screamed, letting Pearl go as they were thrown to the unforgiving cobblestone by dozens of snowy white wolves.

Pearl froze.

She’d recognize that scream anywhere.

Sighing, she waved her hand, and the deadly cloud of white fur abounded in the darkest shadows once more. “Scott,” she accused, her mouth turned down in a scowl.

“Pearl,” the figure– Scott– groaned. His cyan hair was splayed out over the pavement, both it and his denim jacket stained with a bit more dried blood than could be healthy for anyone to lose, though most of it likely wasn’t his. “Sorry. Should’ve known better.”

“Yes, you should have.” Pearl growled. “You should have indeed.”

Scott pushed himself off the ground, flipping his hair over his shoulder. “Cleo and I need to talk to you, so at 3am tomorrow, we’re meeting at the slushee place.”

Pearl raised an unimpressed eyebrow. “Don’t I get a choice in this? Why should I trust you?”

“Cleo’s paying.”

“...I’ll come.”

“Perfect!” Scott grinned. “It’ll be just like the old times, huh?”

“No.” Pearl turned on her heel, throwing her former teammate one final glance. “No, not at all.”

* * *

Pearl’s slushee was getting warm. 

It was a quarter ‘till four in the morning, and neither Scott nor Cleo had shown. She’d even paid for her own slushee (taking care to get the largest size), and was waiting to drink it until her friends– until her enemies sat down with her.

Pearl lay her head down on the linoleum tabletop in front of her. It smelled strongly of disinfectant and depression.

It was four am at a slushee shop, after all.

An old cracked television in the corner played a grainy rendition of the day’s news; a red-haired girl wearing a green sweater and denim overalls reporting in front of a blurry poster was enthusiastically recounting the latest murder victims and the main suspects for all of them.

Her voice droned on, mixing with the other noises in the shop. The clicking of the cashier’s keyboard behind the counter, another customer’s snoring, the electric buzzing of the broken and flickering light in the back corner…

The muffled bickering of two people as they enter the slushee shop, the bell above the door going off with a ‘ding-dong’.

The Scarlet Witch sat up and narrowed her eyes at the pair, the contrasting copper and cyan hair confirming her suspicions. Scott and Cleo had arrived.

They strolled through the slushee shop, glancing around for a moment. Scott walked over to the hardly-working slushee machine, and Cleo made their way to Pearl and her melting red slushee. Pearl’s heart pounded in her ears, but she forced down her anxiety and fixed Cleo with her deadliest glare. “You’re late,” she growled, trying to seem as threatening as possible. “And you owe me money.

“You know how it is.” Cleo shrugged, the foam booth seat letting out a puff of air as she sat down. “What do I owe you for?”

Pearl raised an eyebrow. “You’re the one paying, you tell me.”

Cleo barked a laugh, startling a blond guy in some sort of knight cosplay who was sleeping at one of the tables. “Who told you that ? Scott’s obviously paying.”

Comedically, as if it were some sort of story, Scott chose that exact moment to walk back to the table and set both Cleo’s and his slushee down. 

“Pay up,” Pearl said, holding out her hand.

Scott scoffed, but dropped a couple of silver coins into her palm, scooting into the bench beside Cleo. 

An awkward silence settled over the trio like a suffocating blanket. 

“So.” Cleo slurped her slushee. “How’ve you been?”

“Oh, you know,” Pearl snarked. “Just going around, being the horrible person I am– cut the small talk, would you? We both know you want something from me, so just go ahead and spit it out.”

Scott sighed. “What we want is for you to stop this Watcher-hunting nonsense.”

“Nonsense?” Pearl bristled. “I prefer the word vengeance, actually.”

“That's exactly what we mean,” Scott narrowed his eyes. “You're hurting– killing innocents with nothing but a half-baked excuse to justify it.”

“Half-baked?! The Watchers took Gr– took my brother from me, Scott. I’ll never see him again because of them.”

“Because of them, ” Cleo cut in. “Not every individual Watcher took your brother, you know. It’s like working at an office and then getting yelled at because your manager is corrupt.”

“And on top of that, what if they turned him into a Watcher?” Scott added, raising his voice a notch. Any of the Watchers you’ve been killing could have been him, and you’d never know it!”

Pearl stilled, her breathing heavy, seemingly at a loss for words. Then she stood, sliding out of the booth as her cheeks flushed a furious red. “You know what?” she yelled, slamming her palm on the table. “I don’t need either of you telling me what to do, okay? I’m an adult, I know perfectly well what I'm doing, and my mistakes are mine to make.”

“Quiet down over there,” the cashier shouted, easily matching Pearl’s volume. “Some of us are trying to sleep.”

Pearl shot a glare at the cashier, but lowered her voice to an angry whisper, turning back to Scott and Cleo. “People like you are the reason Grian’s case was never solved.”

People had often told Pearl she needed to get her emotions under control. Usually, she just scoffed and told them that she was fine, that she knew how to handle herself with all of her emotions as they were. And usually, it was true enough.

But sometimes, Pearl wished that she could think without the rush of emotion and feeling and caring and guilt and everything in-between clouding her thought. Pearl wished she could make them all go away, so she could just breathe.

And as Pearl stormed out of the shop and onto the empty streets to greet the rising sun, she wished with all her bursting and bleeding heart that she could just be numb.

Chapter Text

“Grian?”

“B,” Grian gasped, breathing heavily. He leaned forward, bracing himself on the mahogany door frame as he struggled to catch his breath. “Oh my void, BigB.”

“Grian!” BigB’s eyes widened to the size of dinner plates. “Are you okay?!”

“I’ll be–” Grian coughed. “I’ll be alright. I just– your couch wouldn’t happen to be taken tonight, would it?”

BigB chuckled, his eyes still crinkled in concern. “Only by you. Are the wolves after you again?”

“When are they not?”

“That sucks, man. Well, you can rest assured that you’re safe here.”

Grian smiled and leaned forward, enveloping his friend in a hug and melting into the feeling. “You’re the best, B.” 

Grian sat on the couch, spreading out and pulling the light blue throw blanket over himself. He patted the cushion next to him.

BigB obliged, stretching out on the couch next to him. “So. What’s been up with you lately?”

“Oh, nothing much, nothing much. Staying alive.”

“Same here. Rent’s been a struggle lately. I’ve been paying the landlord mostly in chocolate chip cookies. It’s a real doozy.”

“And they let you?”

“He really likes chocolate chip cookies, I guess.”

Suddenly, a growl sounded from the window. BigB pulled away, eyes widening to the size of dinner plates, trained on the fogged glass. 

“Don’t tell me,” Grian mumbled under his breath, desperately meeting his friend’s eyes. 

B didn’t say a word, but stood from the couch, hands shaking slightly.

Grian collapsed onto the floor, burying his head in his hands and letting out a mirthless laugh. “I’ve seen those things bust down an iron door before. Sorry, BigB, but we’re certainly dead.”

“Oh.” B chuckled nervously. “Well, it was nice knowing you.”

“Likewise. I’ll, uh… I’ll look upstairs for anything useful. Better to die fighting, right?”

“Grab the shower curtain rod.” BigB laughed, a crazed mirth infecting his voice. “See you on the other side.”

It hadn’t even been thirty seconds, and the splintering of wood echoed through the house. Shower curtain rod in hand, Grian stepped carefully towards the banister. Wolves crowded the ground floor, swarming in like bees. BigB stepped out of the left-side hallway, empty-handed.

Grian’s blood turned to ice.

“B! Catch!” he cried, heaving the shower curtain rod over the stairs. He closed his eyes. 

He heard a thunk, and the crumpling of a body to the ground.

Grian peered over the railing.

“Oh,” he said, and promptly passed out.

* * *

--------------------

Grian came to in a puddle of blood.

He knew instinctively it wasn’t his own, but the throbbing in his chest wasn’t any reassurance. 

Grian stood up shakily, looking around through-owl like eyes, and not the cute kind. His vision blurs over a certain patch. All he can see is a visceral red, and a hint of pale blue. Grian swiped at his cheek. His hand came away bright red, the same shade of crimson.

Shit.

Shaking, Grian stalked towards the door, normally.

He leaves a bloody handprint on the doorframe.

--------------------

At dawn the next day, Grian lights a candle in BigB’s honor. He walks down to the brown, polluted lake in the center of the city, and sets it on a paper boat. He draws a symbol on the boat, quickly. A broken rectangle. 

It’s not the symbol of Watchers, Grian would insist. It’s their symbol. Evo’s. 

He won’t let the people who took so much from him take that, too.

Grian watches the candle float away. It burns brightly, accenting the rosy pinks of dawn creeping over the eastern horizon.

“I’m sorry for your loss.” A voice speaks beside him, cutting through Grian’s meaningful silence. On the park bench where Grian is sitting, a figure about Grian’s age sits. He’s dressed in clothes that, at first glance, give the impression of having been stolen from a museum exhibit on the Victorian era. On second glance, however, they look as though he raided a costume store, with help from your local Goodwill.

Grian looks up at him, through the tilt of his giant square glasses. “Good morning,” he says, a carefully crafted edge to his words.

“Good morning,” the stranger returns.

“I… didn’t notice you there.”

“That’s odd. Usually it’s the other way, people notice me a little too much. Then again, I guess it is dawn. Not exactly the most, ehh, clear-minded time of the day, for most people.”

“Not for night owls, certainly, but I’m not.”

“Maybe being sleepy makes me invisible.” the man let out an exaggerated yawn. “I’m definitely a night owl.”

“Why are you up now, then? There’s no good reason for you to be.”

The figure turned away, gesturing to the leftmost side of the water, where another candle floated. It was already going out. “Same reason as you.”

“I– oh,” Grian swallowed his words. “I’m– sorry. That sucks.”

“I’m sure you know how it is,” the stranger’s voice choked in his throat, even as he fought to keep his face neutral, emotionless.

They sat there, in silence, as the golden threads of day washed over them and the city grew alight around the small little pond and bench.

They parted around noon. Grian walked around the rest of the day, until his feet were sore and blistered, trying to walk off the guilt nestled in the cavity of his heart. It didn’t work.

The next day, Grian saw the man again. He was sitting on the same bench as before, in the same place, with an open sketchbook in his lap. Grian took a seat.

“Hello. Do you remember me? You know, from yesterday.” he grinned, just a little bit, not so much that the man would run off screaming at the points of his teeth.

“Oh! Weird bird guy. Yeah, I remember you.”

Grian snorted. Weird bird guy. “My name’s Grian.”

“Well, you didn’t tell me that. It’s a pleasure to meet you! My name’s Scar.”

Grian’s eyes involuntarily traced the paper-white lines all across his face. It was a fitting name, to be sure. Grian leaned over on the bench, looking at the sketchpad in his lap. “What are you drawing?”

“My cat! Her name’s Jellie. I have two others, too.” Scar shifted the paper so Grian could see. It was a fantastic drawing. If it wasn’t pencil on paper, Grian might actually be convinced there was a cat sitting on Scar’s sketchbook.

“Woah! That’s really good, actually. I had some cats, once. I tried to draw one of them once and it turned out horrendous. I don’t know how you do it.”

Scar laughed modestly. “I’m sure it wasn’t that bad. Anyways, this is probably the hundredth time I’ve drawn her. I’ve had lots of practice to get better.”

Grian shrugged. “Still. It’s fantastic.”

Day after day, Grian meets Scar at the park. It’s not planned, but eventually, it just grows into routine. Grian knows Scar doesn’t always hang out at the lake, either, since he usually stops by it at least once a day. It’s a natural beauty, after all, even with the pollution so thick one careless match would set it ablaze.

One day, Scar takes Grian to a coffee-shop. Grian can’t help but to blush the whole time. It feels like a date, and he knows for a fact that’s exactly what Scar intended. The man wouldn’t know how to be subtle if it hit him in the face.

Scar tries to take him home afterward. He has a really fancy car.

“No, Scar, really, I can get there on my own.” Grian feels his face heating up.

“No, I insist! If you’re worried about the car, it’s no problem if you get it dirty.” Scar leans in close to Grian, cupping his hand around his mouth. “I stole it anyways.”

Grian bursts out laughing. “Did you really?”

“Maybe, maybe not. You’ll never know.”

“Okay, okay. You’ve charmed me. Just drop me off at the park, you know the one.”

“No, no, Grian. It’s pouring outside, can’t you see? I’m not letting you walk to your house.”

“It’s a light drizzle at most,” Grian scoffs. “And in any case, that means you shouldn’t be driving everywhere. This car doesn’t look like it could stand getting a little wet.”

“Oh, okay, Grian. You can just come over and meet Jellie! I’ll drop you off at the end of the day, it shouldn’t be raining then.”

Grian swallowed. He knows he shouldn’t trust Scar, shouldn’t trust himself, really… but what’s the worst that could happen?

He smiles. He shouldn’t say that. That’s just asking for the worst.

Grian reaches out and takes Scar’s hand.

Jellie would be the cutest little furball Grian’s ever seen, except for the fact that Katy Bee and Mr. Finnegan might just be cuter. When he arrived, Jellie was sitting on top of a fluffy cat tree, Katy Bee and Mr. Finnegan struggling to reach her height. As soon as Grian walked through the door, Mr. Finnegan rushed over to him, sniffing his boot and giving his pants a scratch. Grian smiled, scritched the cat’s head, and looked around.

For all of Scar’s extravaganza and embellishment of his character, he lived rather humbly. It was a two-bedroom apartment –one for Scar, and one for the cats, but the cats didn’t seem to like to stay in their own bedroom very much. 

“Welcome to my humble abode!” Scar smiled. “I have all the old Disney movies on DVD, so we can watch one of those. I love the old 2-D hand-drawn animation style; it really makes me wish people did that today, if just for the novelty of it.”

Grian’s eyes lit up. “Oh! Can we watch the Little Mermaid?”

Scar grinned. “Of course!”

Blue washed over the TV screen in waves, a navy ship on the horizon.

“ I’ll tell you a tale of a bottomless blue…”

Grian leaned back into the couch cushions. “I love this movie so much.”

“Me, too. I love all Disney movies.”

About halfway through the movie, Scar got up to use the bathroom. When he returned, he leaned a long stick up against the corner of the couch.

Grian frowned. “Have you always had a cane, and I just didn’t notice?”

“Oh.” Scar blushed in the blue light of the TV. “No, I just… hadn’t been using it recently.”

“Oh. Why not? Shouldn’t you need to use it all the time?”

“Um. Well, you know, here and there…”

Memories flashed back to Grian. Scar limping, Scar sitting whenever possible, Scar massaging his leg on the bench.

“Why haven’t you been using it?”

Scar turned even redder, if that was possible. His voice dropped to a whisper. “I didn’t want you to… to not like me.”

Grian almost barked a laugh. “That’s impossible, silly. I don’t know why you would ever think that. You’re amazing.”

“...Thanks.”

A moment of silence passed.

“It only affects my left leg, so I can still drive and everything. You don’t need to worry about that.”

Grian smiled. “Okay.”

The rest of the movie passed in comfortable silence.

Chapter Text

Church bells toll five am in the distance.

Pearl doesn’t listen. She’s always known the time. For the past however-many long years, there has only been one time for her, and that’s Too Late.

Her legs swing over the edge of the crumbling building, bare skin cold to the winter chill. 

The structure was long since abandoned, all steel foundations and scarce remnants of once-impressive walls. Pearl liked to come out here and sit, sometimes. Her face was still flushed from the argument, like the rosy pinks of dawn that fluttered up from the harsh and angled horizon.

Smog clouded every corner of the midnight city, curling like mist in the reaches of the dawn and choking life from the eaves of the holy. Pearl breathed it in, feeling the harsh air grate against her lungs and relishing the feeling of being alive.

Footsteps sounded quietly behind Pearl. Her ears twitched, like that of a dog. It wasn’t a threat, but certainly someone to be wary of.

“Good evening,” the figure spoke. “Or morning, perhaps? It can be quite hard to tell the difference, you know.”

“What the hell do you want?”

“Not even a relinquished greeting? I’m hurt.”

Pearl turned. The figure bore a dark green cloak and a black bandana, tucked under his messy blond hair. Two black earplugs rested in his ears. A chill ran down Pearl’s spine.

He should be dead.

“I’m sorry,” she mocked, distaste edging her voice. “Good morning. It’s nice to meet you. What the hell do you want?”

The figure smiled, his face and body oh so familiar, yet his actions and speech that of a stranger’s. “Right to the point, I see. You are the Scarlet Witch, correct?”

“The Witch and Her Wolves,” Pearl agreed. A few wolves phased out of the shadows, if only for a second or two. “You’d best to keep it quick so you don’t meet the rest. They’re not very friendly to… strangers. ” Pearl spat the last word onto the ground, a conviction more than a statement.

Martyn– not Martyn– was unfazed. “As you wish. I’ll keep it concise. I represent a group –an organization, if you will. We call ourselves the Listeners. ”

Pearl snorted. She’d heard of them before. Just more Watcher-wannabees, except with more chutzpah and on the opposite side.

“We hear you have… a certain grudge against those called the Watchers, one for which we share the intensity of hatred. We would like to strike a deal with you, Pearl.”

Pearl froze. Whoever controlled this strange imitation of Martyn knew her name, something nobody who did business with her should ever know. She snorted. “I’m not looking for a business partner, thanks. I’m fine on my own.”

“You misunderstand us. You see, the enemy of our enemy is our friend. If we’re working towards a common goal, isn’t it in our best interests to call attention to any fighting between parties, and bring it to a close? We wouldn’t want to hinder each other, after all.”

“You seem awfully desperate.”

Not-Martyn shrugged. “Our best interests lie in your persuasion.”

“Is this about the Listener the wolves killed last Tuesday? They need to eat, you know.”

“Each and every member of our cause is critical towards reaching our aspirations, and we do not wish to lose another.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Pearl waved her hand. “I’ll tell them to lay off, just leave me alone, would you?”

“Wonderful.” The person who was not Martyn smiled, and stalked away, just as unheard as he’d arrived. 

Pearl sighed, pushing herself forward and off the building with her hands. She landed on a green dumpster, wiped her hands on her pants, and walked home. Pearl didn’t feel angry anymore, just annoyed. And a little unnerved, thanks to the weird Listener that looked like Martyn. Maybe their thing was having blond hair, blue eyes and a bandana, she wouldn’t know. Pearl kicked a rock, and it skittered into the gutter.

When she thought nobody was looking, she slipped between the shadows, walking gracefully into the front walkway of her own home.

Well, she said front walkway, because it made more sense. Really, she tied her hoodie around her waist, hefted her arms above her head, and climbed the wooden ladder rungs all the way to the top of her tower. 

Finally, with a last heaving breath, she hefted herself onto the wooden tower floor, walked over to her bed, and flopped over.

Seven am daylight streamed over her face and body through the open-air windows, but Pearl was, frankly, too exhausted to care.

*** Flashback Dream Thing Asterisks ***

Muffled crying drifted under the door.

Cleo tried to ignore it, at first, but it seeped into the walls and echoed off the wooden floors, soft sobs whispering between the brick and mortar.

Now, she stood outside of it, one hand planted on the wall beside her. Their other hand fidgets with the stitches on their right arm. The medic who’d stitched her up always told her not to touch them, but it didn’t really matter. 

Cleo bit their lip. Scott had told her to comfort Pearl, if she heard her crying, but Cleo didn’t know how. She and Pearl had mostly avoided each other, mainly on the fault of Cleo, who never knew what to say.

Giving up, Cleo pushed down on the doorknob, opening the door and entering the room. 

Pearl shot up from where she lay on the bed. “I wasn’t crying.”

Cleo shrugged. “Okay.”

Pearl crossed her arms, leaning forward on the rough woolen blanket. “Why are you here? You wanna make fun of my pajamas?”

“Maybe,” Cleo started, then stopped. From her pocket, she produced a small, woven moth, stitched of random fabrics. A wing was corduroy, a leg llama wool, an antennae crocheted purple yarn. “Scott told me to give you this, if you were crying again.”

Pearl suddenly looked guilty. “You can hear me.”

“Sure we can. Everywhere in the base.”

“...Sorry.”

“Why were you crying?”

“Why do you want to know?”

“So I can get you to stop crying,” Cleo finished bluntly. “Why do you think?”

Pearl harrumphed. “Well, I’m not telling, then.”

“I won’t give you the moth, then.”

The younger gasped, offended. “You wouldn’t.”

“Try me.” Cleo sat on the edge of the bed, next to Pearl.

Silence settled like a blanket over the duo.

Pearl sighed, breaking it. “Griba’s gone.”

Cleo snorted. “Griba?”

Pearl glared at them. “Grian. My brother.”

“We can help you get him back, you know. All you had to do was ask.”

“He’s gone gone. Like, dead gone.” Pearl grabbed Cleo’s head, bringing their ear to her mouth. Cleo almost struggled, but thought better. “ He was taken by Watchers. ”

Cleo shuddered. She didn’t know what Watchers were, but whatever they were, they were scary enough to make Pearl pronounce the capital W. “Is he okay?”

“I don’t think so.” Pearl frowned. “Last I saw him, he had wings.”

“Is that… bad?” Cleo bristled. She hated anti-hybrid people.

“He doesn’t normally have wings.”

“Oh.” the older winced, feeling their back. It couldn’t be painless or easy to just get new limbs there.

“It’s okay now, though.” Pearl smiled. “Because now I have you guys. And you said you’d get him back?”

“I’m sorry, Pearl,” Cleo said. “I… don’t think your brother is living anymore.”

Pearl looked at her lap. “I know.”

Cleo’s face twisted in determination. “But I know damn well that me and Scott will do everything we can to help you fight these Watchers. We’re a team now, Pearl, we’ve got each other’s backs.”

Neither of them were sure exactly when that became a lie.

*** Flashback Asterisks Out***

Pearl blinked awake, her hand resting over an old tattered moth. She huffed a breath, pushing it off the side of the bed. She hated thinking about back then, hated it with every fiber of her being. 

Golden daylight streamed from the open windows onto Pearl’s face. She glanced at a clock hanging on the wall, slinging a large bag over her shoulder.

Nine AM. She’d barely got two hours. 

Pearl glanced at the bed, then decided against it, climbing into the open window panes. She could live on two hours of sleep.

The Scarlet Witch leapt out of the window, swinging on a rope tied to a post in the center of the tower and latched onto the side. Sure, she could just climb down the ladder, but that was boring . This was more fun.

Plus, she needed the adrenaline rush after that dream. 

Her wolves teleported into the shadows behind her, flickering in and out of the nothingness.

Pearl reached into her shoulder bag, grabbing a slab of raw meat and tossing it to the dogs. They ate it with relish, opening their maws wider than should ever be possible, hundreds of cream-white wolves like a moving rug of death.

“Pearl,”

Pearl looked up. “Oh no, you found me,” she said, sarcasm edging her voice. “Whatever shall I do now?”

Scott gritted his teeth. “Pearl, we need to finish talking.”

Pearl barked a laugh. “It’s been three hours. Why didn’t you find me sooner, if you wanted to finish things?”

“You’re evasive,” he snorted. “Guess we should have known you’d be at your overdramaticized treehouse.”

“It is not a–” Pearl sighed, looking behind her. She couldn’t really argue. “Why don’t you just leave, unless you want to be part of these guys’ dinner.” she gestured at the wolves.

“It’s nine fifteen am.”

“You know what I mean.” Pearl narrowed her eyes. 

“Pearl,” Scott sighed, crossing his arms. “Pearl, you need to stop this. You're killing yourself, can’t you see it?”

“On the contrary, it’s the only thing keeping me alive.”

“Look at your eyes. You haven’t slept properly since you left.”

“I haven’t slept properly since I was eight ,” she bit. “I haven’t slept properly since I last saw my brother, since I last saw my real family, since I first set foot in this voidforsaken city.”

Scott looked away. “Pearl, please. Our promises don’t have to be lies. We can help you, just not… not like this.”

“Not like killing the people who killed him?”

“Violence isn’t the answer!”

“Oh, give me a break, Scott. Stop pretending you haven’t killed people for the  exact same reasons.”

“We just want you to be safe.”

“Rather strange way of going about it.”

Scott rolled his eyes. “Fine, then. Okay, if you’re really going to be that, I’ll leave.”

“Good!” Pearl laughed. “Glad you finally got the message. I never want to see your stupid blue hair ever again, you hear me?”

Scott gritted his teeth even harder. “There’s no place for you at ours. You’re not our little sister anymore.”

“I never wanted there to be!” Pearl spat, conviction dangerous in her tone. “You think I ever wanted to be a ‘family’, to have two new siblings after I lost my own? Maybe I was just using you that whole time, did you ever think about that? Maybe I only pretended, just for a warm bed and a plate full of dinner.”

“I don’t believe that,” Scott’s voice was shaking. “You’re probably the worst liar I ever met.”

“Well, maybe you should, because it’s true,” Pearl hissed. “Now get the fuck out of here before I give orders to kill. ”

Scott took a breath, then let it out. “I hope we never meet again.”

“I wish we never met.”

Scott narrowed his eyes, stalking away down the alleyway. “Goodbye, Pearl.”

Pearl watched him leave. She watched him walk away, and when she was certain he was gone, she collapsed onto the cold, unforgiving ground, tears welling up in her eyes. 

This was the Scarlet Witch’s territory. Nobody would dare enter it.

Tilly nuzzled up to her, laying her front legs in Pearl’s lap despite the fact that she was 120 lbs. 

Pearl didn’t do anything, just leaned forward, burying her face and hiccuping sobs in Tilly’s fur.

They sat like that, for a while.

Chapter Text

“B’s gone.”

Martyn leaned into the couch, running his hand through his messy blond hair. “B? Are you sure?”

“I saw it happen. I’m sure.”

“Jeez, Grian,” Martyn sighed. “Was it wolves?”

“Yes.”

Something flashed in Martyn’s eyes. Recognition, maybe. “You’re choosing your words awful carefully. Are you sure it was wolves?”

“Void, Martyn. It was mostly wolves, okay?” Grian sighed, taking off his glasses and rubbing the palm of his hand over his eye. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

Something grated against Martyn’s throat. He was laughing, Grian realized. “And then there were three.”

“Pearl’s probably out there. She’s too resourceful not to be.”

Martyn looked at the ground. “Four, then. That still proves my point. We were eleven, once.”

“So it goes.”

“That’s from that book, right? Butcher-shop four or whatever.”

“Slaughterhouse-five.” 

“Same difference.”

They fell into a silence, Grian’s dark eyes twitching around the room.

“Speaking of Pearl,” Martyn started, then stopped.

“Speaking of Pearl?”

Martyn sighed. “Listeners ‘ave been getting into my head more recently. I keep waking up in places I’m sure I didn’t fall asleep, and my dreams…”

A beat of silence passed.

“I swear I saw Pearl this last time. She was with me, and we were talking about… talking about something.” He swallowed. “It’s all a little blurry, but… there was so much red , G.”

“Oh.” Grian looked at his lap. “But it was just a dream, right? So she’s ok.”

Martyn didn’t respond.

Grian decided he didn’t need to know.

“Who was the nice fellow that dropped you off?”

“Oh, Scar!” Grian exclaimed, glad to change the conversation. “He’s a new friend I’ve made.”

“You? A new friend? Impossible.”

“Oh, shut up.” Grian shoved Martyn’s shoulder. “He’s really nice. He has cats.”

Martyn laughed. “You gonna start sleeping on his couch now?”

“Maybe,” he grinned, face going a little red. 

“You had better.”

“Oi!”

“I’m joking, I’m jokinnngggg.” Martyn giggled.

“I can’t believe you. After everything we’ve been through together?”

“Oh no! A couple of bad guys tried to ruin our lives. Hmm, let me see. No, I still want you out.” the blond could barely keep the laughter out of his tone.

“It was more than just that.”

“...”

“Sorry–”

“No, you’re right. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t be joking about that. Let’s talk about your boyfriend instead!”

Grian squawked, furiously red. “Excuse me?! He’s not my boyfriend!”

“Then who is he?”

“My– my friend.” Grian harrumphed. “Who happens to be a boy.”

“You– you mean,” Martyn grinned evilly. “You mean your boy friend? ”

Grian threw a pillow at Martyn. “Oh, piss off.”

“Who you have a cruuuuush on? And those aren’t for throwing.”

“I don’t have a crush! And they’re called throw pillows, what else am I supposed to do with them?!” Grian grabbed another, flinging it at Martyn’s face.

Martyn spluttered, wiping his mouth. “Are you sure? Because I think you have a cruuuuush…”

“Oh my void, Martyn!”

The blond just grinned smugly.

Eventually, the conversation dwindled down a bit, and circled back to the topic of Evo.

Martyn was speaking. “Shit’s been going down recently. Eight dead, three to go.”

“Nobody’s out out to get us.”

“You don’t know that.” Martyn sighed. “With our bad luck streak, anything is possible.”

Grian smiled sadly. “And to think we were all once just a bunch of dumb kids…”

“That sure went downhill, huh? Didn’t stay dumb or kids for much longer after that day.”

“No. No, we didn’t.”

Grian’s breathing was labored, heaving in and out through his nose and mouth. He ran a hand through his hair, bringing it down to rest on the back of his neck.

“What–?” Martyn started, then stopped. He sighed. 

“Go on.”

“What happened to you? In there? It’s just– I never did truly recognize you after, even if I knew it was you. Sorry, that might be a little too personal…”

“It’s– it’s fine.” Grian swallowed.

There was a short silence.

“It was awful, that much you know. I– it’s all blurry. Everything’s a little blurry. Evo’s a little blurry, and it shouldn’t be because I was fine then. We all were.

“Everything hurt, I guess. That’s the most of it. My back hurt and my head hurt and my eyes hurt, and they wouldn’t stop hurting. Martyn I…” Grian swallowed. “I thought I was going to die in there. I really did. Anyway,” he turned to the blond. “How was it like for you, since we’re sharing all this?”

“You know I’m not really out yet.”

“So what is it like?”

Martyn turned away. “I don’t know. It’s loud. I hear things that aren’t there, sometimes.”

Grian decided not to push it.

* * *

“Do you have, like, a second favorite Disney movie?” Scar asked, crouched by the DvD cabinet. He was wearing a green and lighter-green striped vest, complete with khaki pants and a red bow tie. Against the wall leaned a nice sandalwood cane with a cat carved for the handle; Grian noted it with a hint of satisfaction. It was a little less victorian-era than usual, but still inherently Scar.

“You know, we don’t always have to watch Disney movies when we hang out,” Grian said.

“What else am I supposed to do, man!?” Scar threw one hand up in the air, the other still rummaging through the shelves. “I don’t know how to interact with people. All I know is Disney.”

“Come on, we knew each other for weeks before we watched a Disney movie. You’re not socially inept.”

“I think that’s a new record,” Scar snorted. “I’m really not that good at peopling.”

“Are you serious? You’re the most charismatic person I’ve ever met!” 

“Yeah, to strangers! As soon as I know someone, it’s a whole different story.”

“Prove it.”

“What?”

Grian narrowed his eyes. “Let’s have a conversation. Come on, let’s go. It’s conversing time.”

“What, with each other?”

“Yeah.” Grian shrugged. “That’s all we did for weeks, let’s do it for a bit more.”

“Alright.” Scar huffed.

“I’m waitinggg.”

“What’s… your favorite color?”

“Red, obviously. Yours?”

“Green. What’s your favorite food?”

“Um… I like pizza. ‘S pretty good.”

“Cookies. What is… a time you felt really happy?”

Grian blinked. “I don’t know. When I was, like, seven, I guess. Why?”

Scar just shrugged. “I’m happy when I’m with my cats. What’s your biggest regret in life?”

“ Are you looking up conversation starters!?” Grian leapt across the pearwood table, wrestling Scar’s phone from his hand.

“Would you believe me if I said no…?”

“Unbelievable!” Grian cried triumphantly, holding the android above his head. 

Scar sighed, flopping backwards onto the carpeted ground. “Fine, you got me. I don’t know how to start a conversation.”

“But you did for weeks? Every time I saw you by the lake.”

“I always looked up a conversation starter in advance!” Scar said sheepishly.

“What!?”

Scar pushed a throw pillow onto Grian’s face. “Don’t judge, I know you can’t either.”

Grian rolled his eyes, pushing the pillow away. “Fiiiiine. We’re still going to talk, though. Without the conversation starters.”

“What’s your biggest secret?”

“ Is that another conversation starter!?”

“Noooo…”

“Scar!”

They ended up watching another Disney movie.

It was Moana this time. Neither of them were super big on the movie, but they were still enjoying it.

After Moana, they started on Toy Story. Then they watched Toy Story 2.

By the time they started on Toy Story 3, it was well past midnight. Grian rubbed his eyes. Scar barely looked tired, cradling Katy Bee in his arms and scritching her behind the ears.

Grian sighed, leaning back into the couch. “What is your greatest secret? Now I’m curious. Or just something I don’t know about you, I don’t care.”

Scar looked up from Katy Bee. “I’ve always wanted to be an imagineer.”

“A what now?”

“You know, a person who designs theme parks. I just think it’d be so cool to do that. I sketch ideas a lot.”

“That’s really cool, actually. You’d be great at it.”

“Thanks.” Scar smiled. “What about you?”

“I always wanted to be an astronaut. I thought space was so cool, and I just wanted to go up and touch it. Wouldn’t that be the best thing ever, just to reach out and touch the stars…?” Grian sighed.

“Why didn’t you try to?”

“I don’t know.” Grian looked away, deception thick on his tongue. “I grew up, I guess. Realized that maybe the world is scarier than it looks.”

“What happened?”

“My sister, we, um. Lost contact, I guess.” That’s a nice way to put it.  

Scar noticed his face. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have pushed.”

“It’s fine.” Grian’s voice was tight. “You know how it is. Or you don’t, probably, but it’s fine.”

“I… I do.” Scar looked down at Mr. Finnegan, who was rubbing against his leg. “That was who my paper boat was for. My brother.”

“Oh.”

“His name was Cub.” Scar’s eyes focused somewhere far away. “Well, it wasn’t, but that’s what we all called him. Cub.”

“I’m… sorry.” Grian fell silent. Then, “My boat was for a friend. He was close enough to be my brother, I guess. His name was BigB.”

“BigB?”

“That’s what we called him. He was B, to us.”

Scar smiled. Woody said something funny Grian didn’t catch in the background.

They sat in silence, for a moment. 

Scar leaned against Grian’s shoulder, Katy Bee still in his arms.

And then Grian forgot himself, leaned over, and kissed Scar on the mouth.

Chapter Text

Scar was the first to pull away, his face bright red.

Grian’s feathers were ruffled and unkempt. Sometimes, Scar wondered what kind of bird he was. A violet-backed starling, perhaps?

“Oh,” Scar said. His voice was quiet.

And with only a moment’s hesitation, he kissed Grian back.

Silence fell over the duo again.

“Oh,” Grian said.

A giggle escaped Scar’s lips. “I didn’t– um.”

“–Sorry.” Grian was blushing hot pink.

Scar didn’t say anything, but his cheeks felt hotter, if that was even possible. “Um.”

“Sorry I didn’t ask,” Grian said. “That was– yeah. Stupid of me.”

“No, it's– Well, it’s…” Scar trailed off. “It’s not OK, I guess, but yeah. You’re fine.”

“Sorry.”

“...I didn’t know you liked me.”

“Of course I like you.”

“I mean, like that. Like like me. I didn’t know you had a crush on me.”

“Neither did I.” Grian looked at the floor, still bright red.

“Can I–”

“Yeah.”

Scar leaned in and kissed Grian again, for nearly thirty seconds this time.

When they pulled away, Grian buried his face in his hands. He was almost glowing red.

Scar took a deep breath. He could feel the cool night air filling his lungs, stretching the thin membrane until it was nearly bursting…

He exhaled, an audible sigh that startled the dust particles in the air above him. 

He and Grian were so close now, the avian’s head leaning on his shoulder, and his arm loosely falling on Scar’s leg.

“It’s almost three,” Grian murmured. 

Scar glanced at his digital watch. It was timex. Nothing too fancy, but reliable and sturdy when it came to telling the time. 02:48, it read. “Sure is.”

Grian yawned and made some sleepy sounds, the kind you only make when your mind is slipping into dream-land and you can’t stop it, no matter how hard you try. 

Scar loved that feeling, especially the brand where you wake up on Saturday at your weekday wake-up time, and you get to close your eyes and nestle deeper into your blankets and let the warm pink mush of sleep wash over you again, just for a few more hours. 

When he was a kid, it was always Cub up first on the weekends, bright and early. He’d be planning some sort of fantastical scientific endeavor, usually one that would end up with his black hair and the tips of his nose singed. Sometimes, he would wake a very annoyed Scar up with his eyes glowing a bright cyan blue, a maniacal smile on his face.

Scar missed those days. He wished he could have them back, to hold in his arms and close to his chest one last time…

But there was no point. He’d never see Cub again, let alone his childhood youth.

“I should… be getting home,” Grian started. “Probably.”

“Nooooo.” Scar buried his face deeper into Grian’s honey-blond hair. It smelled like strawberries, the wild ones you find deep in the thicket and eat until you can’t anymore. “You c’n stay. ‘s too late to go places.”

Grian moved to stand up for a moment, but decided against it, melting into Scar and pulling the fuzzy Star Wars blanket he was under up against his neck.

Scar breathed deep again, the scent of strawberries filling his nose.

He heard Grian’s breathing slow to nearly nothing, vague inhales and exhales against the Star Wars blanket.

And when Scar felt himself slipping into sleep, too, who was he to resist?

Scar saw Cub in his dreams. 

Grian, too. They were all standing around a pristine white kitchen counter. Anything else was there if you focused on it, but if you didn’t it was just colors and shapes. 

They were all wearing matching double-breasted white chef’s outfits, with the matching hats and white gloves. Grian’s had gilded gold buttons on the coat. Cub’s had silver. When Scar looked at his own, he was barely surprised to see brass buttons on his own.

Scar blinked. Ingredients were spread over the countertop, breads and meats and pastries and vegetables of all kinds.

“--And welcome,” a voice cried from nowhere, the kind of announcer voice you only get from years of experience. “To the Great British Bake Off!”

A whisk rolled and fell off the counter.

It was covered in scrambled eggs, for some reason.

Scar blinked again.

Cub was looking at Scar. His eyes were dark, unnaturally so. So were Grian’s, and they were dripping… 

Scar woke up.

He was alone. On the couch. His left side still felt weirdly warm, but why…?

Grian, he remembered. 

Scar rolled over, pushing himself up with the arm of the couch and grabbing his cane from where it lay there.

Grian had kissed him last night. That was a thing that had happened. 

Scar didn’t really know how to feel about it. He liked Grian, sure. Like, like liked Grian. He had a crush on Grian.

But then Grian had kissed him, and then Scar had kissed him back…

There were too many emotions, Scar decided, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. Too many things that sat heavy in your gut but floated light in your chest and lumped up in your throat and made your head feel hot and light and quite a bit fuzzy.

Scar glanced down at his clothes. He’d been wearing his normal getup for the movie night, so all his clothes were wrinkled and creased from sleeping. Scar sighed, shrugging out of the corduroy vest he had been wearing. He could keep the ruffled dress shirt on for now. 

Leaning on his cane, Scar started towards the kitchen. It was a rather nice cane, Ash with a small cat intricately carved for the handle. “Grian? Hello?”

Scar reached for the door, pushing it open and walking in. It was a mess; he hadn’t bothered to clean it in weeks. 

Grian looked up. He was leaning over the sink, oversized glasses nearly falling off his nose and honey-blond hair cascading over his shoulders, dipping slightly in the grey sludge of unwashed dishes. 

“G!” Scar could feel his face lighting up. “Oh, good, I thought you’d left. Did you know I dreamed about you last night? It was me and you, and we were in the Great British Bake-Off! I don’t know how we did, though, I woke up before then. Say, what do you think about breakfast? I can cook a mean scrambled eggs. I made some in the dream, actually! Although I guess eggs don’t count as baking, so maybe it wasn’t just a Bake-Off. Dream logic, am I right?”

Grian’s expression didn’t change as Scar talked. He looked like he had mixed feelings, too, guilt and love and hurt and emotion written clearly on his face. 

“Grian?” Scar smiled. “Are you okay?”

“Scar.” Grian’s mouth barely moved. “Scar, I’m sorry.”

“For what? Is it about kissing me? ‘Cause I promise you, I don’t mind.”

“No.” A single tear slid down Grian’s face. “No.”

“Then what is it?”

Grian hiccuped a sob. “I’m sorry I got close to you,” he said. “I’m sorry I tried to be your friend. Void, I’m forever sorry I ever tried to be more.”

“What do you mean?” Scar asked. “You’re the bestest friend I have right now.”

“I’m sorry, Scar, I’m so sorry. I can’t let this happen. I won’t let this happen. I won’t let you be hurt like everyone else. Void, I’m so sorry.”

“Grian? You have nothing to be sorry for. You’re amazing.” Scar fidgeted with the hem of his shirt, anxiety crawling like a bug in his throat.

“No, no, no.” Grian laughed, holding the edge of the counter in a death grip. He was shaking now, tears running down his face and clothes. “You don’t understand. I’ve hurt people.”

“G, It’s okay–”

“No it isn’t!” Grian nearly yelled. “No it fucking isn’t! I’m just using you, I’m just using you like they used me like I’ve used everyone else.”

Scar bit the inside of his cheek. “It sounds like you’re trying to convince yourself of that more than anything.”

“No!” Grian screamed. Eyes opened in the air around him. Scar shivered. “You won’t listen! You won’t!”

“I’m trying my best, but I just want to understand–”

“I’m a Watcher! Is that what you wanted to know!?” More eyes opened around Scar and Grian both. Grian was shaking, shaking with nearly purple glowing energy. “I hurt people! I eat people! That’s what happened to my friend, okay!?”

Scar was still, shocked into silence. He could almost hear the gears turning in his own mind. A Watcher…

“Yeah, that’s right.” Grian halfheartedly laughed, more eyes eyes eyes crowding and lingering in the vicinity. “Scared yet? You should be.”

“Grian,” Scar started, his voice soft. “Would you hurt me? On purpose?”

“Never.”

“Then I don’t see any problem.”

“No, no, no.” Grian laughed, raspy and unhinged. “It’s not a matter of if I want to hurt you or not. It’s a matter that I will. I know I will. I’ve killed friends. I’ve eaten family. How do you not see the problem!? ”

“Hey,” Scar said. His stomach was twisting up. He reached for Grian’s arm, his own tanned and scarred hand trembling. 

“ Stop! ” Grian screamed.

There was a brilliant light.

There was a sudden darkness. 

And there were so many eyes.

Slowly, Scar’s vision cleared. The skin on his palm was slightly charred. He could smell the burning flesh.

Grian was gone. His footsteps had burned slight imprints into the hardwood floor, tracking out the front door and away.

Scar was shocked. It was all he could do to keep breathing.

A Watcher… 

Scar had had experience with Watchers before. Not much, but enough. Eyes, eyes, eyes, and an insatiable hunger. 

There wasn’t… He didn’t…

Not Grian… 

But the evidence was clear, and laid out on the table in front of him. There was no ignoring it now.

I guess he wasn’t a violet-backed starling after all.

But he was still Grian. Under all the eyes and wings was the mischievous smile, the way his eyes lit up when they watched the Little Mermaid, all of the love and anguish and fear that forever would be Grian.  

Scar couldn’t let him go.

He nearly sprinted out the door, leaning heavily on his cane.

There was blood splattered on the front walk.

And a tuft of snow-white fur. A calling card.

Scar felt sick.

Chapter Text

Pearl didn’t know what to do.

It had been a normal Tuesday, for the most part. She got a cherry slushee. She pretended to do some paperwork. She lay on the floor with her arms over her eyes and cried until she was so exhausted she couldn’t move. Just day-to-day life, really.

At about noon, Tilly came up to her, and let her know the wolves had found a Watcher.

There wasn’t anything wrong with that. It was normal. It was Pearl’s job, really.

This one was powerful, Tilly had said. Well, implied, at any rate. One of the best. He could be the Watcher responsible.

The weight of Pearl’s axe in her hand had been familiar and comforting, well-worn wood too smooth to leave splinters. She’d hefted it over her shoulder, like she’d done a thousand times before.

Her feet traced familiar paths, padding gently behind Tilly as her wolves tracked the scent with a vigor. She could almost smell it, too, freckles of fiendish magic that burned her sinuses on the crisp wind.

Halfway there, Pearl stepped on an explosive.

It was a small one. It wouldn’t kill her, or even permanently maim her. But it went off anyways, splattering blood all up her shin from a starburst on her ankle and foot.

Pearl stopped, waving her wolves on and wrapping gauze around her leg, and with a grim smile she knew she was expected. 

Pearl stood up, bandage tied off taut and practical. Crimson visibly bloomed below it, but it shouldn’t be an issue. She could just say she spilled her slushee.

Limping, she continued on the path, following the slight scent of magic on the wind. She was close now, she could tell, picturesque apartment buildings lining the old and cracked pavement. 

Pearl drew nearer, crossing over a large-ish hill, and saw her wolves, the stench of death clear from even where she stood.

But the Watcher wasn’t dead yet. The wolves never truly killed the quarries, that was for Pearl and Pearl alone.

She stalked closer, hoping the monster was awake enough to see her. Her smile widened, stretching ear to ear. Broad daylight washed over them both, along with the prying eyes of passersby, but Pearl couldn’t bring herself to care. “Hello, Watcher . Nobody can hide forever, hmm?”

Pearl reached forward, lifting up the Watcher’s head from where he lay on Tilly’s back so she could see its face.

Honey-blond hair cascaded over his shoulder, revealing glassy eyes and clenched teeth.

Pearl had felt her heart drop into her stomach and splash.

Now, her brother lay crumpled at the foot of her home. Normally, she would have taken a Watcher to her place of business, or maybe just killed him on the spot and shoved him in an alleyway. But this was her brother. This Watcher was her brother, and the lump in Pearl’s throat grew bigger every time she thought about it.

Grian stirred a little, and Pearl jumped, looking around. Her house should have been hidden from view, slipped into the shadows like a pocket universe nobody knew was there, but you never know who could be watching. Since it was basically just a treehouse, she couldn’t get her brother inside, either, since getting unconscious people up ladders is… difficult, to say the least. So they were stuck outside, Grian slumped against the ladder and Pearl and the wolves standing around.

Tilly brushed against Pearl’s side, tilting her head. Pearl understood all too well.

What are you going to do now?

Pearl gritted her teeth. What was she going to do? This organization, this mission, did it all mean nothing? She still needed vengeance, but was the revenge she sought misdirected?

Pearl buried her head in her hands. Was Grian turned against his will, or had he always been a Watcher? Pearl didn’t pride herself on her observation skills or anything, but she didn’t think she was that bad.

“Hello?” Grian’s voice rasped, cracking at the o, and Pearl nearly broke down right then and there. “What’s happening?”

“Grian,” Pearl said. “Grian.”

Grian rubbed his eyes, adjusting large-framed glasses that were slipping on his nose. Pearl didn’t remember him having vision problems, but it had been over a decade, she supposed. “How do you know my name?”

“Grian, it’s me. ”

“You…?” Grian blinked, his eyes widening in sudden realization. “Oh. You. You’re the Scarlet Witch.”

“No! Well, yes, but no! That isn’t the point.”

“I swear, this isn’t what it looks like,” Grian hissed, standing up and pressing himself into the wall behind him. “I’m just a violet-backed starling, I swear. I don’t know anything about the Watchers.”

Pearl sighed, reaching up and tugging on her hair with both hands. She could feel herself slipping. “No, no, no! I don’t care that you’re a Watcher, I don’t care that you have wings, don’t you remember me?”

“All I remember is I’m supposed to stay away from you.” Grian narrowed his eyes. 

“Grian! It’s Pearl, I’m Pearl! Why don’t you remember!? ” Pearl heaved a sob, waving her arms and gesturing wildly. 

Grian’s eyes flashed with recognition. “Oh.”

Pearl gave a wobbly grin.

“So you are alive. I knew they couldn’t get you that quickly.”

“And you’re supposed to be dead!” Pearl cried. “I saw it, I thought they killed you, or worse– !”

Grian rasped a laugh, scooching as far away from Pearl as he could be. “Or worse. Yeah.”

Pearl fell silent. Tilly brushed against her legs. “What… what happened?”

“What do you think happened?” Grian’s eye twitched. “Why do you think your wolves found me and –and dragged me away like they did?” Eyes opened in the air.

“Get back!” Pearl cried, swinging her hand at one near her left ear.

“Pearl!”

Pearl stopped, turning to glare at Grian. 

“Pearl, it’s me.” her brother waved his hand, and the eye blinked out of existence, opening just below his left eye. 

Pearl’s heart jolted in her chest, adrenaline rushing through her veins. Watcher.

But Grian.

But Watcher.

Pearl sank to her knees. “Griba.”

Grian didn’t move, rooted to the ground, but tears streamed down his face. “What happened to you?”

Pearl tried to laugh, but it came out a sob. “Grian. I’m sorry.”

“Every day.” Grian said. “Every minute, every second of the past 6 years of my life has been spent hiding. Spent running, running from you, Pearl. From you and your wolves!”

“I thought you were dead!” Pearl cried, her face flushed. “I thought– no, I knew they killed you, I– I couldn’t let them keep going.”

“So you turned to killing innocents? To murder?”

“They killed you first.”

“Not the ones who ran away! They spent their whole real lives running from their past, from the Watcher they were forced to be against their will, and you took that from them. You reduced them to the flecks of purple in their eyes– in our eyes, or the wings on our backs we can’t help but have.”

“And you wanna know why I did it? Because of you , Grian. Because I saw you dying, I saw you bleeding out. I was eight. Fuck , you were eight! I hope you know how angry I was. Angry at the world, angry at myself, angry at you, even. So what was I supposed to do, just let it consume me?”

“Yes! No? I don’t know, Pearl! Maybe you could have not turned to murdering people?”

Pearl’s axe fell to the floor with a clatter. She was already on her knees, hugging herself as her nails dug into her biceps. “I grieved for you. Did you think I didn’t? Do you still think I never spent all those hours crying for you, wishing that maybe, just maybe there was some hope you were still out there?”

Pearl sighed. ”It’s been fifteen years.”

“What?”

“Void, Grian! Fifteen years I thought you were dead. Fifteen years I thought my brother, my twin died at the hands of the Watchers.”

“Worse than dead.” Grian looked at the floor. “Definitely worse.”

“Did you even mourn for me? You said you thought I was still out there, so did you even sail a candle in my memory? Do you even know how it feels to lose someone like that?”

“I still lost you!” Grian cried. “Even if I didn’t think you were dead, I still lost you. You were still gone, and so was everything and everyone I’ve ever loved. Watchers are monsters , Pearl, and I know you know I’m one too. BigB and Taurtis are dead because of me, this isn’t a game!”

“Stop!” Pearl shouted. “Stop, just stop! What gives you the right to– to walk back into my life after fifteen years? What gives you the right to take away my reason, the whole reason I’m even alive. This is all your fault! ”

“Hey!” A voice called. Pearl spun around, revealing a brown-haired man, well-dressed if considered over several centuries. His shoes were modern, his shirt Victorianly ruffled, and his pants rather 1700s. “Don’t talk to Grian like that!”

“Excuse me? Who the heck are you?”

“I’m Scar,” the man said. “And I don’t know what you think Grian did, but I can assure you that it isn’t his fault. Grian wouldn’t hurt a fly!”

“Scar!” Grian shouted, running one hand through his hair. “This doesn’t involve you. Just leave.”

“No,” Scar said. “Grian, I’m sorry. For reacting how I did. I want to help you, I really do, and it looks like you could use a little.”

Grian sighed. “Scar, this is my sister Pearl. Pearl, this is Scar. Are we done?”

Scar didn’t say anything, narrowing his eyes and moving to Grian’s side.

“Get the hell out.” Pearl growled. “You said it yourself, Grian. This isn’t a game. I’m not some final boss at the end of the dungeon of horrors whom you have to defeat. Void! I want to help you, I really do. I wish we could go back to normal, maybe be a family again, but I know you know it’s not that simple. So leave. You can go your way, and I can go mine.”

“Fine,” Grian said, though his voice was shaky. “Okay. Fine. Scar, let’s leave. Let’s go back home. And for the record, I’m sorry too.”

“What?!” Scar explained, genuine confusion written on his face. “What are you doing? This is great, isn’t it? You’re finally reunited.”

“It’s complicated,” Pearl hissed. “I wouldn’t expect you to understand.”

“It’s not, really! You’re the Scarlet Witch, right? Watchers and all that?”

Pearl nodded, rolling her eyes.

“Just disband the whole thing, then! You can take all the wolves, let go any human employees you might have, and go buy a house somewhere. With all those bounties, I’m sure you have the money.”

“And what? Invite Grian over to play family, even though I’ve been basically hunting him for six years? This world isn’t sunshine and rainbows, you know.”

“Yes? No? I don’t know!” Scar sighed. “You’re brother and sister. I’d give anything to see my brother again, even just one last time.”

“So what? Is this just a choice? Your brother or your organization, you choose?”

“Exactly. Shouldn’t be too hard of a choice, should it?”

Pearl swallowed.

She kept a gun in a holster on her belt.

It was for emergencies only, strictly. Only if she was trapped, only if she couldn’t see any other way out.

Pearl didn’t want to hurt Grian.

She really didn’t. She wanted him to leave, she wanted everything to just go back to normal, for once. 

Pearl had greived for him. She’d mourned, and she had said that, too. Every morning crying into her pillow, every paper boat sailed or candle lit, did it all mean nothing? 

It couldn’t. It had to mean something, she couldn’t have mourned for fifteen years for someone who’d been alive and breathing the whole time.

Pearl couldn’t let it be true.

Grian was alive, her brother was alive , and every tear shed was meaningless.

He was alive , and that was the problem.

Pearl raised the gun.

She couldn’t remember when she’d unholstered it.

Scar’s eyes widened. 

Pearl squeezed the trigger.

And struck true.

… 

There was so much blood.

There was so much blood, and so much viscera, and the screaming in Pearl’s ears and mind was growing louder and louder, and is was all she could do to stay conscious. 

Pearl was screaming, and Scar was screaming, and Grian was on the floor and looking like he might not be able to scream for much longer.

Scar stopped, tears dripping down his marred face. He looked at Grian, then up at Pearl.

Pearl’s feet were cemented to the floor. 

“You’re a monster,” Scar whispered.

Pearl could only nod. “ I know .”

Chapter Text

Grian’s dead.

Grian’s dead, and it’s all Scar’s fault.

Well, that wasn’t entirely true. Grian was still breathing, shallowly, and the blood oozing from the bullet wound in his chest trickled in time with the rising and falling of his chest.

Scar was running, now, and his feet were pounding on the ground and in his ears and echoing on the pavement. Grian was in his arms, and Scar lifted him like it was nothing.

He doesn’t remember when he got that strong. 

Maybe it had to do with the adrenaline in his veins, the pumping of his heart that hadn’t stopped speeding up since he stepped into that alleyway and saw Grian and that woman standing there.

Grian had called her his sister, Pearl. But Scar couldn’t even begin to imagine a sister hurting her brother like that.

As soon as the shot finished echoing off the stone-brick walls, the noise was replaced by Pearl’s screaming, and Scar’s screaming, and maybe even Grian’s. Scar certainly couldn’t tell. 

Pearl had stood there, gasping for air and sobbing in between guttural screams, unable to move as Scar had scooped Grian into his arms bridal-style and ran. 

Shit.

Scar stopped, forcing his eyes open through the tears and sunlight. Anywhere he looked, prying eyes were stealing glances at him and Grian, and honestly, he couldn’t blame them. Scar was crying, and Grian was dripping a trail of blood on the sidewalk behind them, the pavement growing warm as the sun crept higher in the sky. 

Where was he even going? There was nowhere to go. Nowhere that could help. Hospitals, maybe, but Scar didn’t think Grian had ID, let alone insurance. Gulping for air, he started moving again, but his left leg screamed out in protest.

“Fuck!” he yelled, nearly collapsing as he fell against a wall, cushioning Grian from the impact with his body. He’d left his cane in the alleyway, because of course he had , and running with a full person in his arms wasn’t doing him any favors. 

Something wet and sticky started oozing from Scar’s head, gumming his hair together. Grian’s wound wept similarly, an already infected black-and-red nightmare.

Scar was sobbing now, and Grian’s breathing was slowing, it was slowing, it was stopping…!

“No, no, no! No, no, no, no, no, no, no…” Scar mumbled under his breath, but his head was pounding so bad he couldn’t think. There was something else there, in front of him and Grian, and it was orange and green and white and a little blue? And it was screaming, too.

Scar thought he heard something about an amulet . That was probably good, because he’d read things, and maybe the magic could save them. 

  And then something was red, and something was blue, and something was white and clear and bright and then nothing was anything at all, really. 

Pearl didn’t remember the last time she’d eaten.

Or slept, really. She also couldn’t remember the last time she’d drank water, but it must have been recently, because it had been days and she was still, painfully, alive. 

Tilly never left her side. Somewhere, through the foggy glass window to Pearl’s brain, she worried, but her dog’s food and water were never empty. Distantly, she wondered how she’d found the strength, but found it easier to just be grateful.

Pearl was pretty sure Scott had visited, at some point. It made her fucking mad, but what can you do? He took one look at her, practically decaying on her bed, and left. 

And when he left, Pearl cried.

She didn’t know why. She was mad at him. She wasn’t supposed to be sad. Well, not about Scott, at any rate. Obviously, there was something Pearl was supposed to be sad about, or why would she be feeling this way?

Pearl tried to remember. She really did.

When Scar got the news about Grian, he nearly collapsed in relief.

And dread, if he was being honest. Because despite how incredibly happy he was that G was going to be okay, the hospital bills that had racked up in the process were truly daunting.

He still hadn’t gone home yet. Grian wasn’t in a coma, but he was so blurry when he woke up that he might as well have been. Even if he’d tried, the doctors wouldn’t let him leave, mainly because Grian didn’t seem to have any immediate family, and also he’d royally fucked his leg running without his cane. One nurse said he might need a wheelchair for life, but Scar didn’t care because Grian was going to be okay.

He was in a wheelchair right now, as it happened, one of those crappy ones like the ones you get from the back of the nurse’s office at school. It was incredibly uncomfortable, but it worked, and it wasn’t like he really had the money right now to get anything better than the bare minimum.

Scar had his own room, because Grian was in the ICU, but he didn’t use it much. He probably shouldn’t be allowed by Grian’s bedside at all, but again. No immediate family, so there were special circumstances. 

“Hey, G,” he said, leaning one arm over the back of his wheelchair, which creaked in protest. Grian couldn’t hear him, or course, but Scar didn’t care. “I hope you’re okay, wherever you are right now.” He took a deep breath.

“I just want to let you know I’m sorry. I’m sorry I couldn’t save you, and I’m sorry that you got hurt like this, and most of all I’m sorry we can’t be us.

“I know you can’t hear me. I know you might never hear this, but I just want you to know. Please know I love you. Please know I always have. And please know… please know I’m sorry.”

Scar didn’t realize he was crying at first, but the book that lay open on his lap was mottled with tearstains.

A nurse came in to check Grian’s blood pressure. He didn’t say anything to Scar, but Scar could tell a pitying gaze from a mile away. He couldn’t bring himself to care.

The next time Pearl tried to talk to someone, her voice was raspy and scratchy from lack of use.

It was Scott, naturally. He’d shown up to Pearl’s tower again, but this time she’d been coherent enough to at least talk to him, even if she was fresh out of fucks to give. 

“He’s alive,” Scott said, in lieu of a greeting.

“No,” Pearl stared at the warped floorboard in the corner. She didn’t feel like explaining further. 

“He is. I saw him. He’s alive.”

“No,” she repeated, not caring enough to lift her gaze. “Not anymore. He was, you’re right. But not now.”

Scott fell silent, sitting down on one of the windowsills. It was a rather nice spot, Pearl knew from experience, unless it was raining. To this day, she still didn’t quite know how her treehouse of a home worked, but it was open to the world. The scene outside was mostly towering skyscraper walls with no windows, but the relatively fresh air was still nice. 

“What happened?” Scott asked, and Pearl felt her stomach twist itself into a knot. 

“What do you think happened?”

A beat of silence.

“You were right.”

Scott inhaled, sharply. 

“Right about me. Right about him. Right about everything, Scott. Just like always.”

Scott’s eyes swept over Pearl’s one-room treehouse, from her moldy sheets to her cluttered kitchen to that fucking gun in the corner Pearl wasn’t thinking about.

“Oh,” Scott said, and Pearl knew that he knew. Scott was smart. He must have seen the red stains on the ground when he entered.

Pearl was sitting on the floor, she was fairly sure, and Scott slid down from his window seat next to her. “I came here to say I’m sorry, for the record. I’m sorry for blowing up at you. I didn’t mean any of it; I know you didn’t either.”

Pearl didn’t have enough energy to disagree. “And?”

“How recent?” Scott asked, and gestured at the corner where Pearl wasn’t looking. “How long has it been?”

Pearl shrugged. “Three days? Four? Five, maybe. Fuck if I remember.”

Scott furrowed his brow, and Pearl saw the eyebags under his own eyes. They weren’t nearly half as bad as hers, but still significant. “When I said he was alive. I saw him, I meant. This morning.”

“What?”

“In a hospital. We were there for Cleo, but there was an open door… I saw him. He looked just like your photo, but, you know. Older.”

Pearl’s blood was ice in her veins. She tried to respond, but choked on her own voice. She was crying, but not loudly, and she could barely breathe.

Silence settled over her treehouse, if only for a while. Scott didn’t try to comfort her, to his credit. It wouldn’t have worked, and he might have lost an arm in the process. 

“I don’t think you’re a bad person,” Scott said. His voice was quiet.

Pearl looked up from Tilly’s fur, where she’d been petting. But Scott was already gone.

When Grian opened his eyes, he wasn’t sure what was real.

Everything was white, and everything hurt, especially his abdomen. He was in a bed –a hospital bed, he thought– and next to the bed was a person in a wheelchair he was sure he recognized. The man had one arm on the hospital bed, next to Grian, and another covering his face.

“...know I love you. Please know I always have. And please know… please know I’m sorry.”

Grian closed his eyes again, tight, and hoped the man didn’t notice. It hurt to exist.

<<Good evening, and welcome back to your favorite news channel! I’m your host, Gemini Tay.>>

<<And I’m your co-host, Impulse SV, and today do we have the story for you!>>

<<Over the last five years, a mysterious red-eyed killer nicknamed ‘The Scarlet Witch’ has been, along with her feral pack of white wolves, the number one culprit of murders in the midnight city.>>

<<Just this last week, however, reports of any deaths involving this woman, her wolves, or any similar calling cards have completely vanished, along with a thirty percent decrease in murders all over the city! Isn’t that just incredible, Gem!?>>

<<It certainly is! And just to prove how wild and miraculous this is, we have a report from a citizen who actually spotted the Scarlet Witch ‘in the wild’, completely non-hostile. This is a never-before-seen phenomenon! Impulse, would you pull up the interview?>>

<<Of course! Here it is:>>

*camera cuts*

<<–I just saw her walking, yeah. She didn’t look murderous or anything, I swear. I was just buying batteries at Walgreens, and she was outside the window. It was the craziest [bleep] ever! I haven’t ever seen a criminal before, let alone a passive one–>>

*camera cuts back*

<<Isn’t that just wild!? Well, we better not get ungrateful here. Less murders in the city is always a good thing!>>

<<Oh, for sure, Gem! It means less work for us, haha! And now, for our next story, did you know there is now fluoride in your WATER!?>>

<<Impulse, you’re stupid, there’s always been–>>

<<End broadcast. Thanks for tuning in!>>

[Deep breath in,

let it out]

The cold air bit at Pearl’s ears and nose, October mist leaving droplets in her hair. 

It had been nearly a month, now. Four weeks and she’d finally come to peace with herself, and her past, and her brother who might still be dead. Hospitals could only work so many miracles, she figured. 

Pearl had switched out her classic scarlet hoodie for a blue one. It was more conspicuous, and besides, now that her eyes weren’t as red-rimmed from lack of sleep, it matched them.

Even though she’d called off the whole Scarlet Witch organization, Pearl still was one of the biggest criminals in the underground midnight city, and that had some perks. Namely, the ability to stalk anyone she liked, any time or anywhere. 

She was trying to leave it all behind, but habits were hard to break.

Her feet traced familiar paths in the cobblestone streets, directions she hadn’t taken since the day Grian nearly died. 

Since Grian nearly died. She could say that now. Therapy worked wonders. Pearl really should have invested earlier. 

She’d confirmed with Tilly that Grian was living there, along with the ‘Scar’ man who had been with him. The road was lined with identical picturesque apartment buildings, but thanks to the dogs, Pearl knew exactly where to go.

The formerly Scarlet Witch stepped up to the door. Oak wood, with a cheap plastic knocker. 

Pearl raised her fist, her hand shaking. 

And knocked. Four times.

She stepped back. Her heart was racing.

This is it, she thought, and she knew it was true. It all boiled down to this moment, standing in front of the door as her brother opened it, honey-blond hair and a bright red sweater. 

“Hello?” he asked.

Pearl took a deep breath.

“Hi, Grian.”