Chapter Text
Irisa stopped running and paused to catch her breath. Turning around, she saw the lights of Defiance behind her and all around her the snowcapped mountains colored starkly in the bright moonlight. She looked around, and realized where she’d run to.
She almost laughed.
Sitting down on the ground she rested her back against one of the white tombstones. It was perfect, even she couldn't deny that. She’d killed thousands of people. She’d destroyed two entire countries in less than a day. When she’d started running she’d only wanted to get away, but of course she’d wind up in the cemetery.
Idly, she pulled out one of her blades.
And of course, being in the cemetery would make it that much easier afterwards. Kaziri wasn't infecting her anymore. Two cuts and it’d be over and done with. They could bury her where she lay. She wondered briefly if the Spirit Riders would ask to dissolve her flesh and retain the bones as was tradition, but considering everything she’d done, they’d probably just let her rot. She sighed, and then leaned back, looking up. Above her was the moon, the stars, and the tiny, shimmering pieces of the long destroyed arks. She touched the cold metal to her bare arm, and closed her eyes.
“That’s not going to work.” Irisa’s eyes snapped open. Sitting against a tree directly in front of her was a young man. He was sitting half in the shadows, which was probably why Irisa hadn't noticed him.
“It’s cold out. You’ll bleed slower, and town’s only a mile away. I’ll be able to get a doctor back here before you bleed out.”
“Then I’ll cut my throat,” Irisa said, raising the knife to her jugular and pressing.
“Why would you do that?” he asked.
“I killed thousands of people. I killed someone I loved,” Irisa said, choking on the word love.
“So you’re going to kill yourself to get out of reparation?” he asked.
“How the hell can anyone repair THIS!?” she yelled. The sharp blade cut her throat a little, and she felt something warm and wet dripping down her neck.
“Thats for you to work out,” he said. He pushed himself off the ground and leaned back against the tree.
“I’m avenging the one who killed everyone,” Irisa said “I have worked it out.” She gripped the knife, and got ready to cut deep.
“You’re running away.”
Irisa stopped.
“I was an indentured worker in the Topeka mines for the first twelve years of my life. After that I starved half the time in my farming job and again working as a prostitute in Manhattan, and even when I got out of that I still worked breaking my back fixing wind turbines on no food and without shelter. I wanted to die so many times, I lost count of how many rivers I threw myself into or cuts I made or buildings I climbed. But every time, I stopped, and I chose to make my life better. Now I live here, and my life is good for the first time in forever.”
The young man walked out from the shadows and past Irisa, towards town. After a few steps he turned back, and looked at her.
“Running away doesn’t fix a problem. And what you’re doing is only going to add one more body to the millions who are already dead. If you really want to kill yourself, then I wont stop you. But if you want to live and help people instead of killing them, then come back to Defiance.”
Irisa sat there, unmoving. She was trying to be strong, to not let his words sway her, but what he was saying made sense.
“I cant go back and see those people. Not after this,” she said “they’ll never take me back after what I’ve done.”
“I have no idea who you are so I don't know about that…but if you make that cut neither will you,” he said. Tears pricked her eyes. Something about the way he talked reminded her of Tommy- a belief that she could do anything, be someone she never thought she would be- deputy, girlfriend, wife even….
“Why are you here?” she asked. The young man was silent, and then he said
“I guess I just wanted to be alone.”
Irisa stood up and walked past him, brushing tears from her eyes. She felt her implacable, hard personality forming inside her again, and was glad. It was better than killing herself. She walked a few more paces, then stopped, and turned.
“Who are you?” she asked.
“Keith. I work at the Need/Want,” he answered “who are you?”
“Irisa, I used to be a deputy here,” she said. Keith gave a short bark of laughter, but she could tell there wasn't much humor in it.
“Of course you are,” he said.
“What does that mean?” asked Irisa, ire rising in her.
“Nothing. Of course I want to be alone and Joshua “No Man” Nolan’s daughter finds me,” he said. He stalked past Irisa and back down the trail without elaborating further.
Irisa watched him go. She turned to look back at the headstone. She could still do it. Keith wouldn't know she’d done it till it was too late, and by then…
She stopped her thoughts there, and shut her eyes, breathing in and out slowly.
No.
No, she’d take her penance, alive.
She’d be strong.
For Tommy, she’d be strong.