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The few remaining news broadcasts reported the tide was turning, but she knew it was propaganda. They'd lost the war years ago, it was just that things had fallen apart so slowly that most people hadn't noticed that the end of the world was was already happening. A whimper, indeed. Sometimes she wondered if the other her in the other universe had any regrets about consigning this world to it's fate.
She doubted it.
Peter had chosen to stay here, stay with her and she wasn't sure if she loved him for it or thought he was just plain stupid. She couldn't rule out that both options were true. Nick was still uneasy with having survived, as set on killing himself as he had been, but most days he seemed content to wait for the deteriorating universe to do the honors now. The other John had decided that killing her wouldn't make things any better, would only prompt Peter to kill him. He was sullen now, followed them like a ghost, watched her with eyes that mixed hatred and desire. They walked, no destination in mind, uncomfortable staying in one place very long, stopping when one of them was too weary to go on, staying until one of them was to wary to remain. They followed her and she lead them out of habit.
They were camped on the outskirts of what used to be a town, settled into a little clearing. It was warm, summer-like even though she thought it was December. Maybe January. She'd lost track. The small fire Nick had built was embers now. She was leaning back against Peter's chest, enjoying the motion of his breathing. John was watching her from across the fire. He and Peter still snarled over her at times but most of the time they remembered that it didn't matter much. There was no happily-ever-after waiting for any of them, just now, nothing else. Nick was watching her, too, she could just see him out of the corner of her eye. Heat pooled low in her belly.
John rose and crossed to them, knelt between her legs where they rested along Peter's. He held her eyes while he unbuttoned her shirt, watched her when Peter pushed her forward and helped her slide her arms free, pulled her undershirt over her head. John pushed her back into Peter. Peter's hands were between them, worked her pants open. She looked to the side when John moved back to pull off her ratty hiking boots, to where Nick was watching, the same detached look that was almost always on his face anymore. She held her hand out to him and he joined them, pressing against her side. She cupped his cheek, brushed the rough stubble on his chin with her thumb, pulled him to her mouth.
She lifted her hips to let John pull her pants off, settled back against Peter. She could feel him pressed hard against the curve of her ass. She draped her legs over Peter's and he bent them up, opening her in a way that might have been obscene once. Now, after everything had fallen apart this was the closest thing they could get to normal, this primal connection between them. They were stripping off layers of civility as civilization collapsed around them.
John was shoving his pants down his thighs, shaking his head slightly. He still hated her, she knew. She hadn't meant to trap him here but he was here all the same. He pushed into her, one rough stroke and she was already slick and the angle was just right so he went easily. Not that it mattered. Her pain was something she owed him and she didn't really mind paying when he felt like collecting. He rocked her back against Peter. She mewled into Nick's mouth.
John fucked her hard and fast. He always fucked her hard and fast, his eyes clenched shut. She didn't really like looking at him either, kept her eyes on Nick, his tongue in her mouth. Peter was cupping one of her breasts, pinching her nipple and his other hand was splayed over her belly. Peter's hand dropped lower to rub at her clit as John's breath went ragged. He was close and she broke, shuddering just moments before he did, broke just before he dropped his head against her shoulder and whispered, "Bitch," as he came.
Nick backed away from her and pulled a blanket over, spread it out and let her push him down onto his back. There was a glimmer of expression on his face when she sank onto him, something approaching approval. He bent his knees and angled his hips forward, knocking her onto him. He fisted his hands into her hair, held her lips to his, flicked his tongue into her mouth. She was fairly certain Nick could come just from kissing her, a theory she might test someday. She pushed the thought away. Someday was not something that existed anymore.
They rocked together, abbreviated movements until she was shuddering again and he was biting her tongue. He tore his mouth away from hers, breath hissing out of him. His back arched, head tipped back and she winced as he pulled absently at her hair.
Peter was rolling her off of Nick before the tremors had stopped rolling through her, had her down on her back on the blanket. His pants were off, shed sometime while Nick was fucking her and he was pinning her, pressing into her, anything resembling finesse lost long ago. She was already sore, whined when he rutted against her, whined as pleasure curled hot and urgent in her. His lips where near her ear, whispering words from a lifetime ago, before they failed to save the world. She sobbed his name, sobbed and she was gone again, dimly aware of him biting her shoulder as he came.
Wet blanket was discarded for a dry one. It was warm enough that they could be down one and not really miss it. They needed to find clean water soon, they all reeked. She stared up at the stars, noting that even more constellations looked wrong, the weird dark blotches eating up more of the sky. Things were falling apart quickly now.