Requested on Tumblr
Reader: female
Warnings: angst, grief,
Word count: 2 452
Party stared at the old mailbox in the middle of the desert. Flowers and little mementoes were arranged in front of it, dozens of layers of color coated the metal, and in some places it was breaking of. He stared at the word that was written right under the slit for the letters. 'Love' was spelled out in red cursive writing.
Yeah, he had known what love felt like, he still did in some way, when it came to his brother, or his friends, but he was sure he would never feel love in that way again as he had felt with her. She had been his world, had been the reason to keep fighting. How long had it been now? Three years, maybe four? Was it crazy that he still came to the shrine in the middle of the desert to send letters to her? The Phoenix Witch surely did not deliver all of his letters to her, nor did she read those letters he had written for her, begging her to bring his love back. She probably had never listened to the hours filled with prayers that he had spent in front of the mailbox, asking someone, be it the Phoenix Witch, Destroyer, or any kind of god, to bring her back. Back in the days, before he had been an outlaw in the Californian desert, before BLI had destroyed the world, and turned it into their own little playground, he would have been sent to see some councilor of sorts. Someone to help him cope with the loss, but without BLI she would be alive anyway; he would not need to grieve.
The small line of brighter blue at the horizon announced the new day, and Party got up from the dusty ground. Another night spent out here, another night grieving over someone he could not have back. Of course there had been times when he thought about ending everything, just to be with her again, but he needed to fight, the world still needed him to fight, Kobra needed him, and so did Jet and Ghoul.
He patted the old metal of the mailbox and smiled a sad smile.
"Tell her I still love her, will you," he asked quietly, hoping the Phoenix Witch was listening to his words.
He got back to the diner before any of the others woke up, he always did. They had no clue that he spent most of his nights out under the stars, next to the only connection he might have with his love.
He was just digging into a can of the disgustingly mushy power pup, when suddenly the transmitter over the defect stove started blinking and bleeping. Party buried his face in his hands, too tired to jump to his feet immediately, before he slowly got up, and picked up the receiver.
"Someone there," a voice crackled through the speaker, distorted and hard to understand.
"Yeah, it's Party," he answered, "What's up, Cola?"
"Our sensors picked up a signature just outside zone six, a little north east from where you guys are," Cola answered, the cracking in the speaker suddenly dying down, allowing Party to clearly hear the other man clearly, "someone's out there."
"BLI, probably," Party yawned.
"No, we would have seen them coming from the city, it's someone, something from outside. Think you can go check it out?"
Party rolled his eyes. Seriously, he was tired. Why did it always have to be them when it came to checking out weird stuff?
"Sure, consider it done," he answered and hung up the mic without saying goodbye. He definitely was not a morning person.
To say his fellow Killjoys were not happy about being woken up, and immediately having to drive out into the desert, would have been an understatement. Groaning and complaining they had wriggled into their clothes, and pulled their masks on, before flopping down into the Trans AM.
Party sat behind the wheel, speeding over the open roads of the desert, the car causing clouds of dust to rise in the air, painting the route they were taking.
Soon they started to close in on the position Cola had given Party, and he slowed the car down.
"Everyone, get ready," he commanded, spotting his brother, who had fallen asleep again, yanking his head up, while his fingers immediately closed around the ray gun at his side.
Party threw a glance on the small, grey box that was placed loosely on the dashboard. On dark green background a small red dot moved closer towards the center of the white circle on the screen, signaling that they had almost reached the unusual heat signature, which was displayed as the red light.
"It it's another one of these mutated coyotes, I'll kick Cola's ass," Ghoul muttered.
The other Killjoys blew air threw their noses in agreement, not in the mood to laugh at the black haired man's relatable feelings.
The red dot moved closer and closer to the center of the display, but outside the car, the Killjoys were unable to spot what might have caused the heat signature. Slowly the car came to a halt, and Party, still upset over the early morning mission, but now intrigued, climbed out.
The sun had not even risen over the hilltops yet, the sky was a strange pinkish grey, and the air was still cool, when his boots hit the sand. Just to make sure, he yanked his yellow mask down into his face before he pulled his ray gun, and started wandering around aimlessly, searching for the faintest hint of what had made Cola call them out here.
Behind him, the other three also got out of the car, bandanas pulled over their mouths, and sunglasses hiding their eyes. Wordlessly they spread out, systematically searching the area around the car, even though neither of them was sure what exactly they were searching for. Anything bigger than a cat and alive would probably do.
It did not take long for Party to give up. He was tired from barely sleeping. The few minutes he had dozed off in front of the shrine in the cold, itchy sand, could hardly count as recovery from yesterday's exhaustions, and yet he found himself drawn out there time and time again. The disgusting breakfast definitely did not help his mood either, and the more he thought about it, all he really wanted was to see this beautiful face, which he saw every time he closed his eyes, one last time, in real life. Party's mood had, he had to admit that, reached a historical low.
With hanging shoulders he scuffed back through the dust to the Trans AM. Let the others search until they give up, he thought to himself, at least no one could complain they had not done their job then.
He opened the door to the backseat, and sat down, his feet dangling outside the car, before he let himself fall back against the seats, staring up at the ceiling of the old car. It felt like yesterday, yet like an eternity away that he had rested his head in her lap while they had been sitting in the back of the Trans AM. She had run her fingers through his hair, her perfect eyes had sparkled joyfully, and her lips had formed the most beautiful smile he could have ever imagined.
They had loved each other in the way that dreamy little children imagine love to feel like. It was pure, without any dark secrets, honest, deep. They had been loyal to each other, and while they were not sticking together like lovesick teenagers, instead very well able to go their own way when it came to missions, even when they lasted weeks, at the end of it all, they had always found themselves back in each other's arms, safe and protected, even in a world where safety was a mere illusion.
Party wiped his eyes with the back of his hand, trying to dry the tears that were burning in them. Even after years he could not forget her, still loved her. That was crazy.
"Guys?"
The nervous voice of Kobra cut through the eerie desert morning silence. Party immediately sat up, almost banging his head on the ceiling, jumped out of the car, and ran over to where his brother was standing. He had pushed the sunglasses up into this blond hair, and pointed to a piece of colorful fabric which hung in a dry bush, and only now had become visible in the light of the rising sun.
Carefully Party stepped forward, and picked up the dark magenta scrap. It reminded him of her, but then again, everything did.
"Someone must have been here," Kobra whispered wide eyed, running his fingers over the silky fabric, before lifting his head and looking around hastily, as if he expected to suddenly be surrounded by BLI.
Before Party had more time to consider how someone could just randomly end up out here in zone six, why they were there, or where they came from, Jet's call distracted him.
"Over here!"
Sharing a quick look, Kobra and Party both stormed over to where Jet was pointing his ray gun at something that, in the dim light of the young day, resembled more a rock then a person. At second glance though Party recognized a brown jacket and dusty, green trousers that stuck to a figure which lay face-down in the sand, the hood pulled over their head.
Jet waited until his friends had reached him, their weapons ready to fire, then he stepped forward, and carefully slid his boot under the side of the body before turning it around.
The brown jacket fell open, revealing a magenta shirt that stuck to the torso of a young woman. Long strands of hair fell into her face, but Party recognized her anyway. Gasps of surprise and a few curse words mumbled by Ghoul filled the silence, none of them able to believe what they saw, but Party did not care. His world slipped out of control, as he stumbled forward, falling down on his knees next to her. She stirred slightly as he pulled her head into his lap, his fingers desperately running over her soft skin, clawing into her hair. He leant down, pressed his forehead against hers, tears dripping from his eyes uncontrollably as he felt like he would explode from happiness.
You woke up a while later. The once familiar smell of someone who meant the world to you immediately filled your nose, and your fingers wrapped into the rigid, smooth material of a leatherjacket. The humming of a motor, and the bumping of tires on uneven ground stirred memories of a dystopian nightmare, before you remembered everything; everything from the white monster that was BLI, over Doctor Death Defying's podcast, the colorful masks which the Killjoys hid behind, the fiery red hair of your lover, to the laser beam that had hit you right in the chest and killed you.
But there was one more thing. The picture of a masked figure slid into your mind. Dark feathers seemed to replace the hair, except for a few dreadlocks, on which colorful pearls lined up. Around the figures neck multiple necklaces were hung, shimmering against the deep black of the coat they wore. Scarred, claw like hands reached out, presenting a paper to you which you recalled taking and slipping into your jacket, before everything went black.
Your throat was dry, and your eyes were burning when you blinked them open. Familiar blue of a jacket, burning red hair, the grey ceiling of the Trans AM. You took a deep breath and tried to focus on the face leaning over you. Hazel eyes stared down on you, red from crying, and before you even had time to smile at Party, he pressed his lips against yours. He still tasted exactly the same as you remembered, maybe even better. There was the smell of the repelling power pup, the dull aftertaste of whatever he was drinking as a replacement for coffee, and a minty freshness, which you had never been able to explain. His lips were hot and chapped, and you almost forgot how to breathe, so hard was your heart beating. He pulled away far too early for your liking, his hands cradling your face and weaving into your hair.
Finally you were able to take in the rest of your surroundings. Ghoul was driving the Trans AM, repeatedly checking the mirror and smiling as he saw your open eyes. Kobra sat in the passenger seat, but he had turned around to poke his head into the back of the car, the biggest smile you had ever seen, on his face. Jet sat behind Ghoul, your legs resting on his and he was patting your knee while watching Party, who had your head resting in his lap, and you happily.
You took another deep breath, but were lost for words. There was so much you wanted to say, ask them if you had really been dead, if really there had passed as much time as you felt it had, but you did not. Deep inside you knew it was true, and you felt the rigid paper against your chest.
For a while you were riding in silence, no one dared speaking. Party and you were just staring at each other, as if trying to make up for the lost time, and the others discretely paid attention to the world outside the car.
Finally you moved your hand to your jacket and pulled out the note you remembered having been given. It was folded in the middle, and addressed to Party, so you showed the piece of paper to him. Curiously he took the note from you, his eyes skipping over the single line that was written on it.
"I listened to every word of prayer – The Pheonix Witch"
He blinked a few times, wondering how this was possible, but then again, did it matter? No, no it did not. Not right now anyway. What mattered was that you were here, here with him, in his arms, safe, alive, smiling, giggling. He felt the heat of your head against his knees, watched the way your eyes crinkled as you smiled at him.
He'd pay the shrine one last visit, maybe together with you. He had to thank the Phoenix Witch somehow, maybe by leaving some food, or a drawing for her. Yeah, he wanted to do that. It was the least he could do. After all, it did not happen every day that they got the grace of the Phoenix Witch.