Epilogue: New Year's
Jan. 17th, 2013 08:35 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
When the first casual mentions of a New Year's Eve party started, I ignored them and hoped nothing would come of it. Nothing ever did, in Dorado. The horrific New Year's Massacre that lasted three bloody days (four if you count that it started the evening of the 31st) put a damper on any celebration, even more than twenty years later. The most anyone would find is a cluster of drunk tourists here and there, waving sparklers. So I ignored the comments of 'we should do something for New Year's'. But now it's actually New Year's Eve, and everyone is here with party hats and snacks and bubbling good cheer, Jack and Ana and Reinhardt and Winston and Tracer and I can't. I just can't. Stealth takes me away invisibly, but my room doesn't feel...right. This is the first place they'll look, and my Do Not Disturb sign won't keep them from knocking. I grab a blanket and hang the sign anyway before closing the door and stealthing into Reaper's room. Two steps in, I turn and lock his door. No one else will mess with his room if the door's locked, but it won't stop him.
That done, I retreat into his closet and curl up into a tight ball in the corner where I won't be seen from the door. Half the blanket covers me; the other half gets wadded into a pillow.
Faint sounds of laughter and good cheer come through the door. The excitement of a five-year-old tries to bubble up, bringing with it the heavy scent of blood and fear and the sounds of shouting and gunfire.
I hope Papi finds me soon.
=
"Alé. Alé!"
Reaper's arms - human arms - pull me away from the wall, hold me to his chest. I clutch the blanket tighter, but also turn to press my face into his shoulder.
His hands are gentle on my cheek, on my hair. His voice is Gabriel's when he says, "It was today, wasn't it?" and I know he's asking about my mom.
The bubble bursts, and all the terror and heartbreak of that day comes pouring out. Reaper lifts me into his lap and rocks me gently as I cry, the hysterical sobs he hasn't seen since he first learned my name and anchored me through that storm.
I have a father.
I have a father.
But it still hurts, hearing the shot and hearing her fall and knowing...knowing...that my world will never be the same. Hearing the cheers and the laughter on the day my world went up in flames and terror. Knowing that the clock keeps inching towards midnight, and the hope and promise the new year should have held is stillborn, cold and dead and filled with the stench of decay.
I can't.
I can't.
I don't want the new year to come.
=
Silence.
I'm in bed, wrapped in my blanket, arms around my bear. But when I open my eyes, it's not my room. It's Reaper's.
The door opens and Reaper comes through, still in the hoodie and jeans. Behind him, Widow is carrying an armful of gaming pads. There's no sounds of merriment and cheer, no chatter, no laughter coming through the door. Just before it closes, Jesse saunters through carrying a couch cushion under each arm and casually kicks it shut behind him.
Reaper takes a pad and thrusts it in my direction. I fight the blanket to get my arms free and sit up, and Diablo 3 hums to life beneath my fingers.
"Clean run," Reaper says. "No stash." So we're starting from scratch. That'll be a bit of a challenge. Behind him, Widow and Jesse are getting comfortable on couch cushions on the floor. "Cooperative. Expert. Hardcore. Pick your class, hija."
"Please say witch doctor," Jesse drawls. "I'm only saying that because we're playing hardcore on expert and I'm gonna need your unfair cheating skills to stay alive."
"Demon hunter?" I ask him, already rolling my witch doctor and giving her my name.
"Naw. Your Papi claimed that. I'm trying a wizard."
"Brave choice, cowboy."
He grins at my teasing tone. "I ain't ashamed to say I'll be hiding behind your dogs and your sister's shield."
Widow looks up, a small smile on her lips. "Crusader."
Reaper sits cross-legged on the bed next to me, rolling his demon hunter. I put the pad aside briefly to get myself situated better, then accept the group invite and find myself at the start of the game, surrounded by my family. Wanting the comfort of linkweb, I drop the block on my linksignal and wonder if Jesse would let me give him an implant so he could be part of the family that way.
"I want to be through Act Four in under six hours," Reaper growls as we head down the path to New Tristram. "Let's move out."
The night flows past in a stream of dismembered demons. We're nearing level 55 by the time Widow and Jesse start yawning, and Reaper calls a coffee break before we press on. At 65, though, a particularly nasty pack nearly kills Jesse's wizard. Papi stops us after we pick up our loot.
"Time for sleep," he orders. "No arguments. I won't lose any of you to fatigue. Don't think I didn't see you nodding, hija. Your dogs won't protect you from standing in arcane sentries."
Even though they don't burn, I rub my eyes. "Okay, okay. I'll go sleep."
"Good. We can pick this up again once we're rested."
It's not a surprise when I get settled in my own bed and a doberman joins me. What is a surprise is that it's somewhere past ten in the morning, and I don't remember midnight striking. Before I can think too hard about that, I hug Papi-dog's neck and let sleep take me.
=
Jesse's nursing coffee when I stumble out of my room at half past two. "Widow's still out cold," he says, patting the couch next to him.
I flop down and snuggle up. "Reaper, too," I say as he settles his arm around me.
"It's funny. I think this is the latest I've ever woken up after a party, and I didn't even get drunk." He pauses while I giggle tiredly. "I like it, though. I'd rather stay up helping you fight your demons than get wasted alone."
That makes me freeze. Does he know...?
"Hey! Hey, shadow-sis, no." The coffee gets left on the end table while McCree turns to hug me to his chest. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to stir anything up. Sombra, talk to me?"
"You know?" I whisper, struggling to keep the subdirectories closed.
"I know Lena asked where you were, and Dad wisped off and came back and said you were in his closet. Ana said you were in a bad place, Jack asked why the closet was a bad place, and Dad wisped so hard I thought Jack was gonna get shot right there. Lena said she didn't understand, Angela asked if you were hurt, and Dad just thundered she's from Dorado and that shut everyone up. Reinhardt suggested we take the party across the hall so we could be loud without botherin' you, but you're my sister. I wasn't gonna let you be alone with your thoughts. I've been there too many times. So I know you're from Dorado, and I know better than to ask what y'all went through."
And that's done it, I'm crying quietly into his flannel shirt. I'm not alone with the ghosts of New Years past.
Jesse's rocking gently, just holding me. "It's okay, shadow-sis. I gotcha. I gotcha. It's okay." When he hears my breathing even out, he says, "Y'know, I think next year we can make it all the way to seventy with the right preparations. Snacks, drinks, do it proper. What do you think?"
"I think you're the best brother ever," I say in a small voice.
It's several minutes before we're both breathing evenly again.
"My coffee's cold," he complains. I can hear a click as he puts the mug back down. "But I'm too tired to do anything about it, and I don't wanna disturb you anyway, so..."
"Get comfy," I suggest, not bothering to open my eyes.
He shifts around a little, I shift around a little, and moments later we're both asleep on the couch.
=
There's a quiet-sis cuddled up to me when I wake up. That's pretty normal, but there's also a Tracer perched on the coffee table chatting quietly with her and Tia Ana in her favorite chair, petting Reaper. Jesse's eating leftover party food with his mechanical hand because his right arm's still around me.
"Are you going to be able to sleep tonight?" Ana asks me as I sit up.
Check the time. Almost six. I shrug. "It's not like I have anywhere to be tomorrow."
Ana's lips press into a thin line. That's not what she meant, but she's not going to come right out and ask if I'm at risk for nightmares tonight.
Widow takes my hand and squeezes gently. "I have chosen a name," she says softly. "Technically, I chose it some time ago but I wanted to wait to share it. I wanted to be sure it was comfortable, and I wanted to announce it on a significant day."
"The first day of the year is a good day for new starts," Ana says with an encouraging smile.
"Yes. I have chosen the name Adrienne. So, that is who I am."
"So this is like a birthday for you," Tracer chirps. "We should do something special! Do you think we can get a cake?"
"We can make a cake," Reaper says, wagging. "Sombra?"
Better her than me. "We can absolutely make a cake. What kind do you want, Adrienne?"
Wi- Adrienne flushes slightly in sparkling pleasure at being addressed by name. "I don't need a cake," she protests.
"Too bad, missy. You're getting a cake. I know that look on Dad's face. Even though it isn't your face," Jesse adds with a glance at Reaper. "Point is, you're getting a cake. There's no changing his mind."
Quiet-sis looks at me. I nod. She looks at Ana; Ana nods. Tracer's already nodding by the time Adrienne looks at her.
"Surprise me," she says in quiet challenge, smiling at the room in general.
=
The final result is an orange and vanilla flavored cake with delicate raspberry roses made out of pale pink frosting. Adrienne is thrilled, and I'm just relieved to not be the center of attention. My sister takes visible delight in cutting slices of the cake for everyone, Tracer finds a bottle of champagne left over from the night before, and we all cheer and toast the beaming Adrienne.
Just before Papi turns his attention to the slice of cake in front of him, though, he gives me a split-second look of mourning that I can't enjoy it, too.