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fresh-prince-of-denmark · 3 years

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Cyberpunk 2077 Literary Analysis Pt 7: Leave me Alone, Hemingway, You’re Supposed to be Dead

Surprise bitch I bet you thought you’d seen the last of me.

Cyberpunk spoilers ahead!

Cyberpunk meta literary analysis masterpost here

Okay, so I thought I would be done with this, but it kinda feels like Hemingway has me by the left asscheek and won’t let me go as of late. So here we are: Cyberpunk literature meta-analysis part 7: For Whom the Bell Tolls

Hemingway comes up a few times in Cyberpunk, too many times to ignore. It’s not surprising, really. We know that Johnny is actually a pretty well-read guy from some of his passing comments, and if I had to guess, he’d probably really connect to Hemingway. In fact, if you play Johnny’s ending with Rogue, the final quest is called “For Whom the Bell Tolls” (which is also cool since it keeps the theme of all the missions being song titles, as this is also a Metallica song). But for once, this analysis isn’t entirely about Johnny or V. Hopefully this rings a bell (pun intended), as we’re very explicitly told who else really connected to Hemingway.

Jackie Wells.

During the quest Heroes, Mama Wells will ask you to go through Jackie’s garage to find something for the ofrenda. One option is a book, For Whom the Bell Tolls by Earnest Hemingway. Misty will comment that he used to read it before a big job, and that it was important to him. If you choose to bring the book for the ofrenda, V will “read from the book” (I put this in quotes because the passage they read has actually been misattributed, it is a Hemingway quote, but not from FWTBT, rather from another of his works titled “Men at War”):

“When you go to war as a boy, you have a great illusion of immortality. Other people get killed, not you... Then, when you are badly wounded the first time, you lose that illusion, and you know it can happen to you.”

The majority of our main characters start out as The Fool, naive and feeling like they’re on top of the world, the kind of hubris that can only come with youth. Yet, like Hemingway says, it takes a bullet to give one a dose of reality.

For Whom the Bell Tolls is a story of war. Our protagonist, Robert Jordan (I’d be really interested to know if Johnny’s birth name, Robert John Linder, was inspired by this), leaves his cushy job as a college instructor in the United States to join the Republican side in the Spanish Civil War. Robert begins the novel fairly bland; he has no real friends, no real family, and he feels completely disconnected from the world. In all honesty, he’s boring. Like, if wet cardboard were a person. He doesn’t really care if he lives or dies, not because he’s a badass, but because he really doesn’t have anything to lose. No passion, no connections, nothing he loves that ties him to this earth despite the fact that he is a man of such strong convictions that he willingly joins this war. Robert is tasked with destroying a bridge, meeting comrades of varying philosophies along the way, who become a kind of found family to him. Despite going out of his way to avoid making connections, he falls in love, not just with the love interest Maria, but with his friends, finally giving him something worth fighting for, something connecting him to this life. The novel concludes as the group finally blow up the bridge (a task done in vain, since the Republican side has ultimately sustained more losses than the Fascists), and Robert is injured. He convinces the others to leave him behind so he can buy them time to escape. The novel ends just as it begins; our protagonist lying in wait in a forest, gun in hand, “heart to the ground,” on a bed of pine needles. (For more on cycles/mirrors/reflections, see here).

While there’s a much larger political message here that could parallel the themes of Cyberpunk, I want to focus more on the philosophical side, as it ties in with my previous analysis much more coherently. The biggest theme of this novel is about how interpersonal relationships are what matter most in this life, which is summarized very nicely by the poem by John Donne which not only lends the novel it’s name, but serves as it’s opening epitaph:

No man is an island,

Entire of itself.

Each is a piece of the continent,

A part of the main.

If a clod be washed away by the sea,

Europe is the less.

As well as if a promontory were.

As well as if a manor of thine own

Or of thine friend's were.

Each man's death diminishes me,

For I am involved in mankind.

Therefore, send not to know

For whom the bell tolls,

It tolls for thee.

This poem and the overall meaning of the book work on two levels. The most obvious is that we all die one day, that mortality is fleeting. But on another level, No man is an island. Our identity is tied within our communities, those that love us, and those we live for. “Therefore, send not to know/For whom the bell tolls/It tolls for thee.” Each time a person dies, a piece of all those who loved them dies with them. Funerals are not just for the deceased, but for us, a chance to bury the pieces of ourselves that died with them. “Each is a piece of the continent/Apart of the main/If a clod be washed away by the sea/Europe is the less.”

Johnny is incredibly similar to Robert Jordan. Despite knowing a lot of people and having a lot of connections, Johnny is not particularly loved, and that feeling is mutual. He even tells V that they are the only person who knows him that that doesn’t hate his guts. Both Robert and Johnny are men who base their morals and identity solely on principal and ideals; standing up for what is right, fighting against oppression, rebellion, but that passion is not borne from interpersonal relationships and connections. It is made of hate of the world, not love of their fellow man. This leads to one of Johnny’s fatal flaws; he did not fear death, because he did not feel as if he had anything to lose. He was consumed and driven by hate, not love, leading to all of his failed relationships. Had Johnny something to lose, he may not have taken all of the stupid the risks he did, acting as if he did not care about his own life.

V, in many ways, parallels Maria, Robert’s love interest in the novel. While Robert salvation lies in the love he has for all of his newfound friends, the main focus is on the love interest, Maria. Here’s an interesting bit of dialogue between Maria and Robert:

"Now, feel. I am thee and thou art me and all of one is the other. And I love thee, oh, I love thee so. Are you not truly one? Canst thou not feel it?"

"Yes," he said, "it is true."

"And feel now. Thou hast no heart but mine."

"Nor any other legs, nor feet, nor of the body."

"But we are different," she said. "I would have us exactly the same."

"You do not mean that." (20.66-71)

In this moment, Robert and Maria are talking about how they feel as if they have fused into the same person, as if they share a body. Yet there is a key difference in how they view their relationship: Maria wishes that they were exactly the same, while Robert states that she doesn’t mean that. Similarly, while Johnny seems to enjoy the growth he and V provide one another, his greatest fear is V/himself being changed into something they are not. Hmmmm….

Johnny and V are very different people by the end of Cyberpunk, finding meaning in relationships just as Robert has. For V, this means Judy, River, Panem, Kerry, Misty, Vik, etc. And for Johnny, this means V, and by extension, all of the people who make up V’s identity through their love and friendship. Despite dying and rising again as lines of code, V is able to finally show Johnny what it means to be human. His journey, I believe, can be accurate summed up by this quote from the novel:

“This was the greatest gift that he had, the talent that fitted him for war; that ability not to ignore but to despise whatever bad ending there could be. This quality was destroyed by too much responsibility for others or the necessity of undertaking something ill planned or badly conceived. For in such things the bad ending, failure, could not be ignored. It was not simply a possibility of harm to one's self, which could be ignored. He knew he himself was nothing, and he knew death was nothing. He knew that truly, as truly as he knew anything. In the last few days he had learned that he himself, with another person, could be everything. But inside himself he knew that this was the exception. That we have had, he thought. In that I have been most fortunate. That was given to me, perhaps, because I never asked for it. That cannot be taken away nor lost. But that is over and done with now on this morning and what there is to do now is our work.”

In addition, Robert’s final conversation with Maria as he is convincing the others to leave him behind so he can buy them time to escape is nearly identical to Johnny and V’s final conversation:

"Listen to this well, rabbit," he said. He knew there was a great hurry and he was sweating very much, but this had to be said and understood. "Thou wilt go now, rabbit. But I go with thee. As long as there is one of us there is both of us. Do you understand?" (43.319)

Here, Robert is telling Maria that because they are the same, only one of them needs to survive in order for them both to live. Compare that to what Johnny tells V:

V: For fucks sake, defend yourself! You’re not even trying!

Johnny: Hmm…sounds kind of familiar. We know that attitude. See, V? Stayin’ with you whether you like it or not.”

This scene is further paralleled by the fact that V crosses a bridge to reach Mikoshi, which is set to be destroyed, just as Robert was tasked with destroying the bridge. Furthermore, in the Suicide ending, the overall theme is about how V “never realized just how many friends they had.” Friends who, in all other endings, were willing to die for V, as losing them meant a piece of themselves dying with them. Similarly, Robert considers killing himself as his friends escape, as the pain of his injury becomes too much to bear. However, he is comforted knowing that his sacrifice will mean that they live, telling himself, "I don't mind this at all now they are away.” Despite now having something to live for, like Johnny, they are still able to brave their deaths as now they have been given meaning. And not just any meaning; love. No longer hate, or rage, or blind idealism. Love.

This is the overall message of Cyberpunk: maybe you won’t change the world. Maybe you won’t win the war. Maybe your sacrifice isn’t going to change history. Maybe, in the grand scheme of the universe, you don’t matter, and you won’t ever be a legend. But you do matter to the people in your life. No man is an island. We were made to be in each other’s lives, to love one another, to change one another for the better. And that’s what life is all about.

#finally an author im familiar with even if it was against my will #like it’s the misogyny for me but god damn it’s some tasty misogyny #cyberpunk 2077 #cyberpunk2077 #cyberpunk 2077 v #cyberpunk spoilers #cyberpunk meta #cyberpunk 2077 meta #johnny silverhand #v #v cyberpunk #my posts #hemingway #cp2077 #cp2077 spoilers #cp77 #cp project red #jackie wells

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thedeadflag · 7 years

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Looking For the Magic (Pt 2)

Tentative title for Option B, the magical Witch Fic WIP one-shot I’ve been struggling to finish. I’ll be posting blocks of this with the tags #lookingforthemagic and #witchfic, in case you don’t want a few thousand words muddying up your dash. I think mobile still doesn’t use the ‘read more’ function, so I figure this would be as good a workaround for folks.

Content Warning (for the story as a whole): transphobia, cissexism, physical assault, misogyny, sexual content

(Part 1) Part 2 under the cut.

10 months later

Anya hated annual gatherings of the covens. They were always loud, busy, and far too political for her to stomach when all she wanted to do was enjoy the solstice. Attendance was generally mandatory, however, so having Lexa at her side was at least a small comfort.

Usually, Lexa would stay with her fiancée, but apparently Costia was staying elsewhere, leaving them to use Lexa's small cabin a few miles from the gathering site. It was a step up from a hotel, where she could run into those she butted heads with or who held ill will towards her.

After all, with her history, she didn't exactly have many friends.

"How long do I have to be present for, tomorrow?" Anya asked again, knowing the number, but just wanting another verbal confirmation. It helped when it wasn't just her running the numbers over and over again.

"Should only be five hours you'll have to stay for. Might reach seven, but unlikely, so long as Costia's schedule runs tightly." Lexa restated for about the fourteenth time since they started the road trip together. "With the grounds as large as they are, and your abilities, and the number of witches that will be there, there's no reason you'll have to encounter Clarke any longer than is absolutely necessary."

It would be a refreshing change after the last few events, like back in October where they'd literally brawled after having been stuck in the same area for a little under two hours. As much as she hated to admit, the other blonde had a mean left hook, and with the rest of her powers, her nemesis might one day get the better of her.

"Good. The last thing anyone needs is me putting her up in flames instead of burning her with my wit." Anya admitted, knowing that as much as the idea could seem palatable on rare occasions of severe frustration or hardship, it'd end up with her exile from the coven, and blood on her hands. Clarke certainly wouldn't appreciate dying, and Lexa would lose a friend in the woman as well, as unlikely and upsetting as that friendship was.

Kicking every square inch of Clarke's perfectly round ass after another potential attempt to poison her? Fine. Killing her? Not so much. With how things were escalating between them, Anya wasn't sure their next blow-up wouldn't end with someone being maimed. If things got much worse, they could both eventually get killed. And like hell if she'd come up on the losing end of that, but it'd be terrible anyways, regardless of her feelings.

Not that she still had feelings for Clarke that weren't involved with the vitriolic fury she felt for the woman. That would be absurd. Ridiculous. Masochistic, perhaps.

"Don't be so dramatic, Anya, it doesn't suit you." Lexa snarked from the driver's seat. "Besides, violence is the last thing we need between you both. It's long since gotten ridiculous, and I know you don't like fighting with her."

"I've told you before, I didn't start the fire." Anya insisted, making the executive decision to ignore Lexa's quip about her past feelings for the woman. Key word being 'past'. Sure, she hated fighting with Clarke, it brought up memories she wanted to forget, and she much preferred fighting people who were putting humanity at risk, not some aggravating blonde from her coven who she was supposed to protect, if anything.

Sure, she could appreciate how Clarke's hair always looked perfect, how every time Clarke laughed her eyes got as warm as a summer afternoon, and how the sheer sound of the woman's laughter could have her heart blooming with fondness. She could appreciate that Clarke was creatively diplomatic even without using her affinity, striking a keen balance between kind and ruthless that was remarkably efficient, and showed off the woman's clear intelligence and wit. She could appreciate a lot of things about Clarke, but it didn't change that the woman almost killed her, literally, and that kind of put a damper on any feelings she might have hypothetically had for her.

So perhaps she didn't like fighting with Clarke, but it wasn't like she could just let her guard down and allow Clarke to kill her. Anya wouldn't roll over and die just because Clarke Griffin desired it.

Her words earned a quick, heavy sigh from her cousin. "Please don't start in with the musical puns. You know I can't handle them." Lexa said, helping Anya realize that she almost made a Billy Joel pun without thinking about it. She was almost proud of herself.

"Shut up, you love it." Anya was about to throw out another pun when they made their way into a small clearing, a cottage nestled in at the edge of the tree line.

Lexa slowed and pulled into the short driveway, stopping just shy of the front porch. As soon as Anya had the door open, Lexa's cell rang. Her cousin lifted a finger and took the call as Anya stepped out, waiting for the other woman to finish up, Lexa only letting out mumbled words and tiny sighs. If Anya had to guess, something wasn't going to plan with the gathering's prep.

Lexa pocketed her phone with a huff, staring hard at the wheel for a moment before flitting those green eyes' Anya's way. "Nia Frost sabotaged the herbs for tomorrow morning's ritual. I'm going to have to travel back to Costia's storage shed to grab replacements for what they couldn't salvage."

Nia Frost was a royal pain in their asses, constantly sabotaging gatherings and other events in hopes that enough instability would shift favor for her to call for a vote and use her reputation and history on the council to unseat Lexa as the head of the coven.

Sure, it'd never happen, but it made just about every major event a damn nuisance to manage. "You want me to come with?"

"Nah. Stay here. I shouldn't be more than two hours." Lexa offered with a flick of her wrist. "Get food started, I know you're hungry, and I made sure to stock up."

Anya didn't need to be told twice, her stomach having been rumbling for the past half hour.

The cottage was small, with an open concept kitchen-slash-living room, along with a bathroom, and two bedrooms. Just cozy enough to be her style without feeling too cramped for two people.

She quickly dropped her bags by the living room couch and made her way to the kitchen to get a handle on what kind of food they had on hand. It only took a moment for her to decide to make a pizza bread bowl.

Nothing wrong with getting the weekend off to a tasty start.

"I'm really looking forward to this. God, it's been what, four months since we've had a weekend alone together?" Clarke asked, watching the trees blur by. "I mean, you know I love Lexa, but it's nice to just have some one on one time with you, Costia."

"I feel that, I've missed hanging out with you too, Clarke. It'll be nice to finally catch up." Costia answered, smiling at the incoming text on her HUD telling her that Lexa just dropped off the necessary herbs. "And really, I think Lexa and Anya needed some time alone this weekend. Anya hasn't been in a good place for a while."

"When has she ever? She's always been a frosty bitch. Even as a kid." Clarke shot back, instincts not quite reaching the better part of her brain fast enough to cut off her words. "You know what I mean, she only ever hung out with Lexa as a kid. And no one liked her pert little butt when she came around again. I don't even know why she stuck here after the whole vote debacle."

Costia's sigh was predictable. Honestly, the woman had a heart of gold and the patience of a saint. That was the only rational explanation for Costia's soft spot for Anya. "I know you hate her, Clarke, but she's had a raw deal."

"You know people can hate her for good reason, not because of what she is. Deep down, she's not a good person, she's not trustworthy. You reap what you sow." Clarke argued, sinking back into her seat, trying to ignore that tiny part of her brain that help whispering that she was wrong, trying to slow her breathing and control her temper. Costia hated when she got angry, and while Anya was a point of fury for her, the least she could do for her friend was remain mostly calm.

"I've told you before about my thoughts. That hasn't changed. All I can hope is that you two don't nearly kill yourselves this weekend." Costia stated rather diplomatically.

Clarke grumbled and stared back out the window, knowing she probably looked petulant, but not quite caring when it was all she could do to contain her emotions at her recollection of the gathering in late October. "She threw the first punch last time around."

"Because you poisoned her drink." Her friend shot back easily, only adding fuel to the fire that her memory brought back.

"Because she soaked and froze my cowl!"

"That was a full four hours before she arrived."

"So you say, but you don't know, because she arrived alone in October."

"You know Ontari does that to people all the time. She did it to me last year as a simple prank."

Clarke let out a huff and reached across the median to grab at Costia's arm. "Look, we're only going to get upset, so let's change the subject. What are we having for dinner?"

Costia let out a hard laugh. "We'll just wait and see what we've got, honestly. Lexa did the grocery shopping for us, so who even knows with her, especially at this time of the year?"

Just hearing about grocery shopping had her stomach growling. She supposed that was the price of not eating for over half a day. Clarke was about to whine about having to wait when they found their way out of the forest, slowing as they made their way up a curved driveway, stopping at the front porch.

The moment Costia shifted the SUV into park, the woman's phone went off. Clarke kept her gaze on her friend as Costia pulled her phone free and answered the call.

"Hey, Lexa, what's...oh...she what? She did WHAT?! I...oh cheese and crackers, okay...okay, yeah. We just got here so I can...yeah. Convene the council, yeah, we can finally cut her off. I know...I know...it'll be okay. I will. See you soon." Costia spoke, giving Clarke the distinct feeling that Nia Frost did something again, if not by her words then the sheer frustration and exhaustion written across Costia's face.

"What happened?" Clarke asked, patiently waiting as Costia gathered her thoughts.

"Nia Frost set fire to some of the coven's artifacts, and some of her supposed acolytes attacked a few new initiates to the coven. We're convening the council to pass judgment on her." Costia let out, following her words with a heavy sigh as she glanced at Clarke apologetically. "I have to go do this, but I promise I'll be back in two, three hours. Is that okay?"

Clarke rolled her eyes and pulled Costia into a hug. "Of course it is. We have a shot at finally being rid of that devil woman. Finish up over there, I'll have something for you to eat when you get back."

"You're a life saver, Clarke. I'll see you soon." Her friend called out as Clarke exited the vehicle and shut the passenger door. She waved Costia off as the SUV reversed out of the driveway and headed back into the forest.

As soon as it was out of sight, she headed up to the cottage and let herself in, shutting the door behind her. Clarke was just finishing taking off her boots when it registered that she could hear footsteps heading her way, no attempt to mask their sound by the owner.

"Hey, I didn't hear you pull up. How'd it go with the..." Anya spoke, freezing on the spot as she rounded the corner and came into view, Clarke already having stilled at the sound of her enemy's voice.

It was that little bit of extra notice that had her tossing down one of her spell-bombs full of the ingredients to cast her usual hex, boosting her affinity to where she could take on a fellow witch with any sort of advantage. She was just reaching towards Anya when the woman lifted a slender hand, palm up, the same motion she used to channel heat into a fireball.

Except there was no fire a half second later, or a full second later, or two seconds later, regardless of Anya's incantations. Not wanting to miss the opportunity that was being handed to her, Clarke put all her focus on Anya and channeled her abilities. "Do not move except for breathing and blinking, Anya."

Clarke waited a few seconds to gauge if her spell worked, the woman still and silent at the entrance to the kitchen. Cautiously, she approached, stepping into her nemesis' personal space, raising a hand to the woman's cheeks. Soft, freshly moisturized...lovely...she thought aimlessly, before snapping her focus back into place. All the better to slap... She corrected, giving the woman's cheeks a few light smacks.

Not even a flinch.

The laughter that escaped her was unbidden, but it was hard to care when, for whatever reason, Anya was powerless, and she had full control, at least until her spell wore off. It wasn't even her birthday for another three weeks.

Clarke stepped past Anya as she finally began to register the glorious smells coming from the kitchen, now that her fear was fading. She crouched in front of the oven and stared in through the small window at the food being prepped. "Oh goddess, I haven't had pizza in months. You shouldn't have."

It took a moment for it all to sink in, but Clarke rose from her knees and turned towards Anya. "You thought you were staying here with Lexa. I thought I was staying with Costia." She spoke as she put together her thoughts, trying to figure out what was going on. Clarke looked around and found a window in the kitchen. As she suspected, as she pulled at it, there was no opening it. It only took a few seconds to check the front door, the slab of wood not budging in the least. They were warded in, clearly Costia's doing. "Well...I guess it'll be the two of us for a while. Just like old times, huh?"

She shoulder-checked Anya on her way back to the kitchen. Without any control over her body, the woman tumbled sharply to the ground in a heap. "You didn't mind the floor back then. I'm sure you'll get comfy down there, Anya." Clarke added as she checked the timer for the pizza. Four minutes. "I don't know why they set us up like this, but them cutting off your powers and allowing me mine? Looks like your cousin finally chose a side. I don't blame her."

After all, Clarke wasn’t the one who had nearly torn the coven in half almost a full year ago. It wasn't Clarke who was so malicious as to disclose a very personal secret about another witch in the coven just to start drama and try to get a leg up, harming that witch's reputation almost irreparably.

Anya only had herself to blame.

And Clarke? Well, she had a feeling she was going to have a decent evening.

Anya lay crumpled on the hardwood floors, nose pressed uncomfortably against the ground from the awkward distribution of weight after she'd fallen. She'd maybe feel a bit humiliated if her heart wasn't already completely full of anger.

There were far too many things to be angry about to feel humiliated.

"Oh my goddess, this is delicious. Maybe you have one redeeming quality, I'll give you that." Clarke moaned, clearly enjoying the pizza bread bowl Anya had been looking forward to. It was agony knowing Clarke was enjoying the food she'd made for herself and Lexa.

It was agony knowing she was stuck in the cottage with Clarke, some harebrained plan of Lexa and Costia's for whatever reason. It was agony that she was powerless while Clarke could flaunt her abilities freely.

It was agony not knowing how to exit the situation. It was agony knowing that she was at Clarke's mercy.

Hell, it was agony how appealing Clarke's voice alone could be if she wasn't paying attention to the sheer hatred it directed at her.

And all of that agony only made Anya angrier and angrier, seething with a colossal fury that lay roiling under her placid exterior.

"Don't worry, I'll leave you leftovers for when you're feeling up to eating. Maybe I'll even set you up on the couch since the second bedroom is warded off." Clarke snarked, footsteps trailing into the living room area. "By now you must be feeling betrayed. I know I would."

Anya slowed her blink and tried to focus as she fought to will herself out of Clarke's control. It was all for naught, but Clarke only had so many pre-prepped little spell orb things. Probably only enough to last a day or maybe a little more. Patience had never been Anya's greatest virtue, but this time around, she'd make it work.

And sure, betrayal was something that had crossed her mind, but she knew Lexa. Lexa wouldn't do that. Lexa wouldn't send her to her death. Lexa wouldn't choose Clarke over family.

So no, she didn't feel betrayed by Lexa. Not that she could relay that to Clarke and interrupt the girl's monologue. There was a reason for everything, she just didn't understand it all yet. "See, I know the feeling. It's like a poison, burning through your stomach lining and up your esophagus, bleeding out to corrode your lungs and heart while it steals your words, until there's nothing but tears and anger left." Her nemesis continued with more than a little bite in her tone.

If she had the power to roll her eyes, she would have. After all, what did Clarke know about betrayal? The woman was a well-loved and immensely beautiful prodigy with rare abilities that the coven coveted. Clarke was practically bred for power, only suffering a minor stumble or two en route to where she was now.

Clarke wasn't the one who had been betrayed by someone she thought could be a friend, leading to a landmark vote that would have exiled her had Lexa not made a number of political promises to ensure a majority ruling in Anya's favor. Clarke wasn't the one who was openly betrayed by about half of her coven. Clarke wasn't the one who had her womanhood and connection to the Goddess attacked and doubted.

Whatever Clarke knew about betrayal, the other blonde was still to blame for Anya's hardships. She was still the reason why Anya was no longer well accepted in the coven, and probably never would be.

"I figure I'll let you stew on that. But there's plenty of night ahead of us. Don't get too comfortable down there." Clarke called out, making Anya hope that she'd be out of the other woman's control sooner rather than later. She'd just need to be smart about it when she did.

Hopefully, when opportunity came calling, she'd be able to take advantage. Otherwise, she was well and truly fucked.

All things considered, pizza really did make everything better. She was trapped in an enclosed space with her nemesis, all her history right up in her face, not sure when she'd be free. But damn if the pizza wasn't tasty enough to bring a smile to her face even in the worst of times.

At least she could low-key torment Anya, though. Being friends with Lexa had a lot of perks on top of the woman being a wonderful individual, but it gave a glimpse into their coven leader's relationships, including some pet peeves. Learning that Anya hated Costia's favourite guilty pleasure, One Tree Hill, was something that had pretty easily embedded itself into her long term memory.

And besides, while it was arguably the most heterosexual show she'd watched in years, it was a little comically outdated, and had some cute actors and actresses. So marathoning it while enjoying Anya's pizza was a nice little twist.

"I didn't know you could shoot pool."

"There's a lot you don't know about me."

"The writing on this show is so cheesy, don't you think, Anya?" Clarke asked taking another bite of a long cooled off slice of the pizza bowl. "Always pushing for cliffhangers and manufacturing drama out of the blue. Creating this big love triangle between Lucas, his brother, and Peyton, and resolving it, only to start one with him, Peyton, and this other chick. Brooke, I think. Honestly, I understand why you hate it so much...but I kind of still want to know what happens."

"Like what?"

"Like...I love it in the summer when there's heat lightning at night..."

Clarke turned enough to peer over the couch at the heap of Anya's body a few feet away, eyes maybe lingering on how Anya's ass was raised into the air a little from the way she'd fallen. "You could probably do that on a good day, couldn't you? With those fancy elemental spells of yours?" Clarke asked, letting out a laugh at the thought of Anya's eyes going white like Storm from X-Men. "You'd probably rather spend your energy trying to strike me down instead."

There was a time when Clarke thought differently of her nemesis. When she'd actually thought Anya was good enough to have even a shred of empathy. "You know, I think this is the first time I've had you trapped and silent for any real length of time. Gotta say it's a nice change of pace."

Clarke paused the show and rotated around to peer straight out at Anya, or at least her lump of a body. "Usually we're arguing or fighting, throwing punches, all that stuff. Maybe this could be useful." She started, taking a sip of her water before continuing. "See, I've wracked my brain for ages, and I still don't understand why you hated me enough to do what you did. Did you know what you'd find when you called me over, or were you just looking for weaknesses that night?"

Clarke set her drink down and propped herself up on her elbows on the couch backrest. "Because I really was freezing cold that night. I was scared of what would happen either way, and the c...this girl waves me over, convinces me to share her blankets, warms me up...literally." Clarke continued, knowing she was making herself vulnerable by speaking in such detail, but maybe some closure would help. Maybe finally talking about the elephant in the room would help. Anya not being able to interrupt her or argue back did make it easier. "You amazed me that night. The girl who was always cold and abrasive to everyone was sweet with me. Stared up so softly at me, with so much warmth. Showed so much patience. And despite all the alarm bells ringing in my head, I wanted to believe I'd found someone who could be safe. Who I wouldn't have to be worried about. Who I could completely let in one day, for once in my life."

Clarke rubbed at her eyes, all those old emotions suddenly so fresh, vibrant enough to bring on a swell of tears. "But it was all an act for you. I didn't think anyone could be so heartless to fake all of that so well, with such ruthlessness and..."

"...up shut up shut..." The low sound of mumbling from across the room had her voice catching in her throat and her hand reaching for another of her orbs. "Shit...body's stiff as hell. But seriously, shut the fuck up about that night. You know nothing." Anya bit out as she very slowly rolled onto her back, tongue wetting her lips as she winced in pain.

Whether it was Anya finally breaking through her control after a few long hours, or the woman refusing to take responsibility for what she did, Clarke suddenly found her heart racing and adrenaline pumping, a ten month old fury coursing through her veins. She was off the couch in a second.

The first kick to Anya's midsection wasn't nearly satisfying enough despite sending her nemesis groaning and physically reeling. "I know everything, Anya! I always have, so what exactly is it that you're hiding from, huh?" She asked, glaring down at her nemesis as she swung her leg hard at Anya, the woman just barely rolling out of the way enough to minimize the impact. "Make a miscalculation? Use the wrong person as a stepping stool to power?"

Clarke took hold of Anya's jacket from the back and barreled her into the kitchen island with a heavy crash. With all of the furniture apparently protected by Costia's wards, Anya's head and shoulder collided with a surface with zero percent give, the impact bringing a sharp cry of pain from her nemesis' throat.

"How could you? I was scared, and vulnerable, and you just saw a damned mark!" Clarke yelled, lifting her gaze to the ceiling, unable to look at Anya for fear that she'd go even further off the handle than she already was. "How could you tell everyone about my sexsomnia after you promised?! You promised me! You were the first person to tell me it wasn't my fault! That I wasn't disgusting or wrong! And it was all a lie! Seven months of taunts and slut shaming and for what?! Did you and your friends get a good laugh in? 'Poor Clarke, the coven's sl...'"

Suddenly, she was stumbling and falling backwards, head bouncing off the cupboard under the sink. She'd been too busy verbally railing on Anya to realize the woman had angled her body to go on the attack. Knowing the combat prowess of her nemesis, Clarke braced for impact, raising her arms to cover her head, but one, two, three seconds passed without an attack.

Clarke lowered her hands quickly enough to watch Anya stagger off towards the bedroom. It was the first time in her history of knowing Anya that she'd seen the woman do anything resembling a retreat.

"Anya! Anya come back here! We're not done!" Clarke yelled out as she got to her feet and chased after her nemesis, just reaching the bedroom doorway as the lock slipped into place. Not thinking, she pounded at the door, immediately recoiling her hand in pain from how hard and unforgiving the surface was. "Anya, you know if I want to, I can make you open this door!"

Clarke felt like she was standing on the edge of a knife as she waited for a response; for the door to open, for Anya to yell back, anything.

There was something happening on the other side of the door, she could hear a small, muffled sound, but she couldn't make out what it was. "Anya, come out here or let me in, your choice."

Clarke heard three dull thumps and then a long stretch of silence. She was breathless in anticipation, waiting, waiting, waiting, until the click of the lock disengaged. Clarke wasn't sure why she hesitated, hand shaking over the handle of the door for a moment before she turned and pushed it open.

There were a lot of things she expected to see when she opened the door. Hell, she maybe expected a punch or a kick, or even Anya rushing to tackle her to the ground.

Anya standing a few feet away, looking ready to go to war with a kitchen knife in her hand immediately had Clarke reaching for one of her spell orbs, but she found her hand hovering over it when she caught Anya's gaze.

Anya's flat expression hardly concealed the anguish in her eyes. As ready as Anya looked for a fight on a physical level, barring the dropped wounded shoulder and limply hanging bad arm of course, Clarke knew that when the fight left an opponent's eyes, it was over.

That left a pressing question: what the hell happened between the kitchen and the woman escaping into the bedroom?

Ten months.

All Anya could see when she looked into Clarke's wary blue eyes was nearly a year of misplaced aggression. Nearly a year of pain and sorrow that should have been avoided. Ten months entirely wasted because it was a complete mistake they'd been manipulated into. Almost a lethal one.

For ten months, Anya had wondered what had made Clarke snap and try relentlessly to ruin her life, and to learn what it was all about had her realizing that she wasn't who Clarke wanted to hurt, but she'd been hurt anyways. She'd lost time, energy, health, and a budding friendship.

She'd been a proxy for all the pain and suffering someone else deserved to feel, and as much as Clarke had wounded her, Anya understood betrayal. And Anya understood that with every second that passed, Clarke would come to intimately understand the truth of it all.

It didn't erase the past, and it didn't erase any of the trauma and isolation Anya had suffered across the past year, but she finally had some context. And finally, she might get some of her own answers. She chose, for the moment, to focus on whoever was responsible, even if she didn't have a name for them yet, because it almost certainly wasn't Clarke. Just the way the woman spoke about her younger self had her feeling decently confident about that.

But even with all of that in mind, Clarke had always been a wildcard, so she had to be ready for a fight if it came. And if Clarke decided to use her power, then at least she would have gotten a hit in.

"What are you waiting for? Where's the fire from October?!" Clarke yelled, voice shaking as she took a step forward.

Anya waited until she was free enough from pain to speak steadily, keeping her breaths shallow to help ease the load on her ribs, knowing they were bruised at least. "I have honor, Clarke. I have never disclosed a secret in my life."

"Honor?!" Clarke blurted out with a hard laugh. "You punched me out of the blue last year!"

"You poisoned me. Made an attempt on my life. I was defending myself." Anya let out slowly before dropping the knife. It was getting a little heavy, and she had no use for it anyways.

Apparently, that was the wrong move, Clarke quickly dropping one of her orbs to the ground, shattering it and taking in the resulting fumes. "Pick up the knife, Anya."

Against her will, she felt her body move to a kneel and grab the knife. "Clarke, you aren't an imbecile, you..."

"Put it half an inch from your carotid. Keep it there." Clarke ordered, her good arm doing as it was told just as Anya willed herself back to her feet. "Don't come any closer."

"Wasn't planning to." A tired grunt escaped her as she slumped down onto the bed, feeling nearly all her energy leave her. "Real enemy's out there. Can't keep doing this."

"It couldn't be anyone else, Anya, you were the only one I..." Clarke insisted fervently, but Anya couldn't hear it. She couldn't take the vitriol being aimed at the girl she was a year ago, so full of hope and yearning for connection. Whoever or whatever she was now, her younger self was innocent and deserved better.

"Please don't..." Anya interjected, letting out a sigh before meeting Clarke's gaze again, stilling the advancing blonde in her tracks. "Don't talk about back then. I would never have...just don't."

Clarke shook her head angrily, even if a shaky hand went to run itself through blonde hair. "No, no, it had to be you, it had to be!"

"Clarke, I would never have hurt you. It was my duty to take care of you, I would never break that oath unless I was defending myself." She let out slowly and carefully, staring up at glossy panicked eyes. Eyes that only grew wider at her words. Goddess, why do her eyes have to be so damn pretty?

"No, you don't understand! If it wasn't you, then...then I've been hurting you for no reason! For...fuck, for almost a year, Anya!" Clarke yelled, tears of her own spilling down her cheeks as Anya swallowed hard and nodded. "If not you, then who was it?!"

Anya let out a tired huff and flopped backward onto the bed. "Pretty sure I'm concussed, Clarke. It stings when I breathe. Don't ask me to think right now." She shot back slowly, taking another painful swallow. "Someone would have had to have...have hearing abilities. Or...had to be invisible. Dunno."

"No one in the coven has any abilities or spells that enhance hearing, that's rare. And no...wait..." Clarke's rapid words stilled, violently catching in the blonde's throat, sending Clarke physically reeling backwards into a dresser. "Oh god, Echo..."

Anya's brain wasn't working at optimal capacity, needing an extra second or two, but she remembered the gangly girl with the dark circles under her eyes. A bit of a loner, later Nia Frost's acquaintance. Sort of creepy, the woman was mostly assigned work outside of their region. Anya had assumed it was diplomatic, to improve Echo's social skills as she'd had to endure herself once upon a time at her old coven, but they could have been more focused on subterfuge. She thought she recalled that Echo could essentially teleport, but if it was actually the woman going invisible then there was a very different story playing out.

"Echo was in the bed closest to us. If she heard something and got up...and...oh goddess..." Clarke spoke, hand lifting to cover her mouth as her eyes glistened. Anya could sense Clarke reaching out to touch her before the other blonde moved a muscle.

"Don't touch me." Anya bit out as Clarke's hand descended towards her thigh. "All I need is...is an honest answer. To one question. I need you to think...really hard about it. Take your time and think back."

She stared up at Clarke, who, while entirely panicked and frazzles and practically emanating guilt and remorse, nodded along easily. "I'm ready."

"Did you out me?" She asked, ignoring Clarke's instinctual gasp and pushing past it. "Did...did you say anything that could have...maybe let someone suspect I was trans?"

Clarke just stared down at her, teary-eyed and mouth agape, as if she'd accused the woman of something monstrous. Well, sure, perhaps she halfway did, but if her question was filling in the blanks that Clarke's comments from earlier had with her, then maybe they were finally getting somewhere.

"Anya, I'm bi." Clarke stated sharply, as if that meant anything. She just raised an eyebrow at her fellow witch. "I would never out someone who shared something like that with me! How could you even think that?!"

Anya rolled her head to the side to face the pillows, feeling just about ready for some rest. "Bi people can be transphobic, Clarke. LGBT people can out each other, it happens all the time. Especially cis folks outing us. You...you were angry with me then. Wouldn't explain why you kept lashing out at me, so I didn't understand why, but you were. And then I was being called in to face the council and have my...my womanhood called into question, Clarke. It was admittedly an easy math equation...given you were the only one I'd told outside of Lexa and you were suddenly after my throat."

"Well, I didn't!" Clarke argued, that fact having already become clear to her.

Anya swallowed and let out a heavy breath. "Let's not forget you came to the same conclusion about me. So can you at least let me drop the knife and leave me alone?"

"Oh my goddess, I rescind any hold I have on you." Clarke blurted out, letting Anya toss the knife backwards, using her remaining energy to crawl up the bed and settle her head on a pillow. Credit to Costia for making Lexa buy such good bedding. "Anya..."

"Please leave..." It was with pure force of will that she managed to get the words out, the pain and exhaustion becoming too much for her to manage.

She heard shuffling behind her, her back turned to Clarke and all, but it was clear that the woman wasn't leaving the room. Instead, she watched blearily as Clarke rounded the bed and crawled up beside her, holding out a small flask. "I learned to carry these around a few years ago. It should help you heal."

Anya closed her eyes. "Don't make me beg any more than I already have, Clarke..."

"I'll leave you alone. Forever, if you want, just...just take this. I'm so sorry, and I need you to be okay, and...just please. Even if you're done with begging, I'm not. Please." Clarke pleaded, holding out the small wooden flask.

If it would get Clarke to go so she could mourn in peace, then so be it. She reached out and, after studying the flask for a moment, tilted her head enough to down the container's worth of liquid, wincing at the harsh bitter taste.

"I'm so sorry, Anya. I'm...I just..." Clarke stammered out before rushing off the bed, stopping just after the door frame. "I can speak words, but promises can't make you trust that I won't hurt you again. I only hope you'll let me prove that to you."

Anya shut her eyes and swallowed back the tears, wondering what might have been if not for the past year. It hurt hearing her old words repeated back to her, but maybe it was an olive branch. Maybe it was an attempt to make things right. Maybe it was a bit of hope that they could move past the pain and suffering between them towards something better.

Whatever it was, it had words tumbling out of her mouth that maybe Clarke hadn't earned yet, but maybe...deep down...she had faith the other blonde could live up to them and earn that trust, eventually.

"You can be a good person again, Clarke. Stop feeling guilty, start proving you're the woman you thought you were." Anya responded, voice weak and shaking. The resulting sob from the doorway, the careful shutting of the door, and fading footsteps all told her that it was safe now.

She was safe to let go now.

The weight of ten months of pain, ostracism, and failure was enormous, but maybe she had the time, maybe she had the space to let it all go as she clutched a nearby pillow and screamed into it.

Not ten months' worth. Not yet.

#witchfic #lookingforthemagic #clanya fanfiction #clanya

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