My Wish at the End of the World

Walking Across the Desert

CW fire, discussion of trauma, passive suicidal ideation

I wake up in my bed, my back aching, joining the rest of me.  I know that I slept on the bench, but I suppose there's no way I'd gotten back to my bed the first time we burned the hut.  This must be a part of it healing everything, it puts us back to where we normally would be, or where we would be if we hadn't burned the hut.

"Ow," I say and sit up.  I'm not looking forward to the talk John and Rainfall will probably want to have about last night.  We need to have it though.

I look out the window.  It's surprisingly bright; did I sleep in?

I get dressed and walk out of my room.  John is behind his desk, and looks up as my door closes.

"Ah, there you are," John says.  "I was beginning to wonder if the hut had reignited."  He chuckles.  I stare at him.  "Too dark?" he asks.

"No, it's just..." I sigh, gesturing vaguely.

"Ah," he says.  "Well, if you want to talk, I'm cleaning the shelves once I finish this tale.  That should give us enough time to talk."  He picks back up a book and flips it open, his eyes resting at the top of the page.  I sit down.

I struggle for a few minutes to try and verbalize it.  In the end, it's so simple.

"I'm scared," I finally say.  Jon nods and lowers the book, looking at me over it.

"About what?" he replies, his voice completely flat.

"Everything?" I say, gesturing vaguely and flutily.  "I nearly got killed last time.  I'm covered in scars because of it."

"That makes sense," Jon says.

"What?" I say, feeling anger grow in me.  I stand up.  "You said it would be safe, you said that we would take precautions."

"Yes," Jon says, putting his book down.  He sighs and I can't help but flare up at it.  Is he finding this annoying?  Tiresome?  Boring?  This is my life we are talking about.  "It is entirely logical to be afraid of things that are safe.  And I promise you, with these precautions we will be entirely safe.  Vic,  did you understand what I said last night?  Do you know what trauma is?"

I pause, worried that I had completely misjudged him.

"Not really," I say.  "Well, yes, my mom taught me some stuff about it, one of my friends..."  I grab my arm and shake my head.  "It doesn't matter.  That was when I was 12."

"Trauma is what we call the permanent effect of a stressful event," Jon says.  "It can be mitigated through some forms of therapy, but unfortunately there's not really a qualified therapist here.  Besides, I don't think you'd be willing to tell them about the hut, and that's important."  He says the last part wryly, and I'm again angry that he seems to be taking this lightly.  He glances at me.  "Sorry, I know this is serious.  I'll get to the point."  Was it that obvious?  "You were badly burned last time you were in the hut, and you spent multiple weeks in bed in pain.  You're never going to get rid of your scars from it.  It's likely it left permanent impact in your psyche too."  He sighs.  "I'm sorry, it's a terrible thing to know."

"What does that mean?" I ask. "What does that do?"  He furrows his brow and shakes his head.

"Who knows?" he says.  "It will be different for everybody.  Maybe seeing fire will give you flashbacks, make you see what happened that time again.  Maybe mentions of the hut will make you panic, potentially just mentions of huts in general.  Possibly any mention of the shards, as well."  He pauses, taking a deep breath.  "It really just matters what your brain connected it with."

I start crying.  Tears roll out of my eyes.

"Did you expect this?" I ask quietly.  There's a long pause.

"Yes," he says eventually.  "I'd hoped that it wouldn't, you seemed to be handling it well before, but..." he sighs.  "Sometimes things happen that would normally be traumatic, but support can mitigate it.  I'd hoped that would happen, that Esther would be able to help, or maybe you just wouldn't react as strongly as you are."

I clench my fists and scream, a vile expression of hurt, and run out of the library.  My scars immediately flame up, feeling like they're splitting, but I ignore it and run out of the city.

At some point, I stop.  I collapse to the ground, feeling the sun beat down on me.

I turn my head to look at my scars, but they're not enflamed or look to have any serious damage.  They still hurt terribly, and I start crying again, silent tears that I can feel burning on my skin.

"Hey," Rainfall says.  I turn towards him and she bends down.  "Are you thirsty?"  I pause for a second, then nod.  He hands me a full water pouch and I start gulping from it.

Rainfall sits down next to me, reclining and sighing.  He's wearing clothes that cover nearly every piece of skin, similar to the workers that work outside of the city.

"Who's fronting?" I ask.  She shrugs.

"No clue, don't care," she says.  "It's hot today."

"It's hot every day," I reply.  She nods and purses her lips.

"So it is," he says.  "Does that mean that it is not hot today?"  I feel a flash of annoyance.

"What are you trying to do?" I snap.

"Just trying to make sure you're safe," he says.

"Well I'm perfectly fine," I reply, standing up, ignoring the burning of my scars.  "I don't need anything."

"Really?" she says.  "You ran off into the desert in entirely inadequate clothes and without any water.  that doesn't scream 'I'm perfectly fine' to me."  I stand there, looking down at him, and he looks back up, slightly smiling.  He waits for a few seconds while I stare her down.  "We should probably get you back indoors before you get some sunburns."

"Why do you care?" I ask vehemently.  "What difference would it make if I died?"  Her brows immediately furrow.

"What are you talking about?" she asks, standing up.  "You can't be serious?  Everybody matters."

"And why do I matter to you?" I ask, stepping away from him.  "Am I just your work buddy?  All the information I have is in the notebooks, there's no reason to keep me around.  You're a water magic worker, you can do so much more than me."  She reaches out her hand.

"Vic, please don't tell me you actually think this," he says.  "I would care about you if you were a stranger on the side of the road, with the same kindness you showed me after that carriage ride.  Over the past few weeks I dare say I genuinely consider you a friend."  She pauses, seemingly flustered, her hands curling and turning upwards, pleading with me.  "I don't even want to address the idea that I don't or wouldn't need you, that is painfully and obviously false, I don't think you even believe it.  You're much too smart to think it."

"Don't patronize me," I say.  "Don't pretend to respect me, don't pretend I'm some genius.  Don't pretend to me."  I take another step backwards.

"I do respect you," she says.  "And as for 'genius'?"  He laughs slightly.  "We'll have to see for that one, but you are intelligent.  While you were recovering from the burns you read what, a book every three days?  I can barely read, it would probably take me an entire lunar cycle to read those books and I still wouldn't understand half of it.  Please, we should go back."

I pause.  She looks at me and steps forwards.  I flinch slightly.  He smiles.

"Please.  Trust me.  I care about you," he says.  I lower my gaze, immediately flooded with guilt.

"I'm sorry," I say.  I start crying again.  "I-  I-"

I trail off, unable to continue.

"Don't apologize," Rainfall says.  "I understand.  It's hard.  You don't need to talk any more if you don't want to.  Just come with me back to the city."  I nod and start following him.  I reach out for her hand and she grabs mine gently.

"Thank you," I say.

Walking Across the Desert, Rainfall Comforts Me.

Author's Note:

Yay.