Chapter Text
"Is this some kind of trick?" Fig looked skeptical, her eyebrows furrowed, fingers tight around the pen. Like she was expecting Sandralynn to go 'gotcha!'.
Sandralynn smiled and shook her head.
"No." Yes. "Of course not. I just thought you could use a short break from…" she made a vague gesture at the stack of papers on Fig's floor. "And it's been a while since we did something fun together."
If possible, Fig looked even more distrustful.
"I though you'd be happy that I take school seriously, or whatever."
'I should be, shouldn't I?' Sandralynn thought. She lifted the plastic bag she was holding — her last hope to convince Fig. "Well, I'm not gonna force you. But I better get going or this chocolate peanut butter split is going to melt."
Twenty minutes later they were sitting side by side at the top of the "Welcome to Elmville" sign, looking down at the distant highway with their legs hanging in the air, sharing a pint of ice cream.
"So… have you figured it out? What you're going to do with school?"
Fig scoffed. "Really? You've brought me here to talk about school, mom? After, you know, telling me that I could use a break from it?"
Sandralynn shrugged, stabbing ice cream with her spoon.
She didn't want to talk with Fig about school. She wished they could argue about leaving dirty laundry on the floor or talk about some crappy reality show instead.
It spoke volumes that Fig dropping out didn't seem like the worst case scenario anymore.
"I… I think I did. Figure it out, I mean," Fig said after a long moment. She was looking at the spoon, as if watching her own reflection in it. "I'm going to be a paladin."
"A paladin?"
"Yeah. I've talked about it with Porter… Turns out he's helping with paladin classes as well. It's crazy, right? Like… this dude seems to be everywhere."
(Yes. That seemed to be exactly the case.)
"Anyway," Fig continued. "We've had this talk about rage and devotion and… I think I could do something really good by becoming a paladin. I could even help Kristen, you know? But it's a shitton of work, and Porter wants me to show up to all those extra classes to make up for all these lessons I've not been to and I can't really say no to him because he had signed my MCAT and even revised some of my paperwork and he said he may even sign Gorgug's MCAT. I still don't get it why he has to be such a jerk about it, but… in a weird way, I think Porter helped me a lot."
And the worst part was that Sandralynn could see it all so clearly: Porter, charming and handsome enough, seeing potential in Fig. Not dismissing her like so many people have done before but treating Fig like an adult, giving her a chance to prove herself. Giving her just enough attention. Just enough praise mixed with push-back because Fig wouldn't be satisfied with anything that was too easy. Putting a hand on her back, just to "correct her form". Leaving it there because it "slipped his mind" to remove it. Grabbing her shoulder. Tucking Fig's hair behind her ear. Finding her eyes across the room when someone else was talking, giving Fig a meaningful look, like Fig was the only person present who could understand what Porter had found funny.
Sandralynn's mouth felt dry and she was pretty sure that the ice cream spoon in her hand was about to be irrevocably bent into a wrong and unusable shape.
"He did?"
"Yeah," Fig threw her spoon into the empty bucket and brought her legs up, hugging them to her chest. Then, so quiet that Sandralynn half-believed she was imagining hearing it: "I'm starting to think that I wasn't right about Porter."
No. Oh no. No, no, no, no.
She wanted to take Fig home, lock them in the bathroom and ask Fig to show her the bruises from their training. Where Porter had touched her, where did he break her, so that Sandralynn could shoot arrows through the very same spots. She wanted to spend the rest of her life hunting people like him, turning all the Porters and Bobbies of the world into fucking pincushions.
She wanted to ask Fig what had she done. What Porter had done to her. There were so many questions Sandralynn wanted to ask Fig, but none of them could make it past the lump in her throat.
(Why would Fig want to talk to her about this? She was a fuckup. She was the worst person in the world to give someone advice in a situation like this. Fig would be far better off talking to Jawbone or Sklonda or Gorthalax or even…)
"How's Ayda? Do you know when she's coming back?"
(She just needed to remind Fig that she wasn't alone. That there were people who weren't Porter who loved and cared for her.)
Fig hugged her knees closer to her chest, turning her face so Sandralynn couldn't see it. "She's… fine. Still on her trip."
"Huh. I always thought that if someone is already time traveling, they can come back right after they went away."
"…yeah. Me too." There was a beat of silence. "She is sending me messages, thought."
"Oh. That's good," Sandralynn tried. "I really like Ayda. She's good for you."
"Yeah. She's the best."
There was the sound of cars moving below them. They heard Baxter squawk somewhere above.
Fig shifted, putting her head on Sandralynn's shoulder. She sighed. "Thanks for taking me here, mom. I really needed this."
And Sandralynn's heart felt like it was about to explode. "Of course. Anytime," she kissed the top of Fig's head.
She should have left it at that. Let the evening stay as close to the perfection as it could. But the question that kept coming back to the tip of her tongue appeared again, destroying all the sweetness of chocolate and ice cream.
It still didn't come out when Sandralynn tried to ask it. But she managed this: "You know I'm here if you need to talk, right? Anytime. And about anything."
There was silence. There was a nod. And then more silence.
It felt like defeat.
"You know you can't tell anyone about this, right?" he breathed out and the smoke from that awful grassy-cig filled the cave.
Sandralynn just scoffed and pulled her pants back on. She crouched down to look for her belt on the cave floor.
Bobby's hand grabbed her chin, forcing her to turn and look at him.
"I'm serious." It was a tight grip. Uncomfortable.
"We've done this many times, Bobby. Have I ever run my mouth about any of it?" Sandralynn asked, impatient to continue the search of her clothes — it was far too cold in this cave to stand around butt-naked and having her front pressed against the stone wall for the past few minutes didn't help either.
Bobby's grip softened, and so did his gaze. His thumb moved across her lower lip, like he was thinking about kissing her.
(Unlike her, Bobby wasn't in a rush. He probably wasn't cold at all. All Bobby had done was open his pants and push them down to the middle of his thighs. Somehow, it was always her ending up with far less clothes on than him.)
She looked at his lips, watching them move as Bobby spoke: "I just want to make sure you don't do anything to embarrass yourself, sweetheart."
The spell broken, Sandralynn jerked away from him. "What the fuck, Bobby?Embarrass myself?"
"I'm just looking out for you," Bobby said, looking genuinely confused.
"No," Sandralynn shook her head. "No, you're acting weird. Where did that come from?"
Bobby bit on his lower lip, looking at the wall. "Pam has found out."
"What?" Sandralynn's blood ran cold. "How?"
"Well, I didn't tell her," Bobby snapped at her.
"Well, I didn't tell her either! I'm not stupid!"
"Are you sure?"
"What, that I didn't tell your fucking wife that you've been fucking me for almost a year now? Yeah, I'm pretty fucking sure, Bobby!" she shouted. She pulled the sweater over her head and gave herself a minute to calm down. "Well, at least now you can finally break things up with her."
"What? Are you completely out of your mind!?"
Sandralynn blinked at him. "You said yourself that you and her are together only on paper. And since she knows, you can just…"
"I can just what? Throw my entire life away? I am a respected member of the church of Sol, Sandralynn! And after I'm done with this silly adventurer business, I'll have a chance to really be someone! I can't have this kind of stink following me around."
It felt like a slap. Like a kick to the stomach. "But you said we had something special."
"Oh, come on, kid, we've had some fun, but you're not that good."
Shock turned into anger with a speed of exploding supernova. "Then maybe you should have thought twice before waving your dick around me! You did cheat on Pam, Bobby. I didn't make you do it! That's on you!"
He stared at her in disbelief. Then, shockingly, he started to laugh. "So what now? You plan on threatening me? Who would even believe you?"
"Pam already knows. You've just said it yourself."
"Yes. And Pam is smart and knows when to keep her mouth shut," Bobby looked her square in the eyes. "She knows what it would do to her career if news of this… incident got out. Maybe you should think too, kid."
She slapped him. They argued some more. He called her childish and delusional. And then he left her alone at that cave, Sandralynn kicking at the walls until her legs gave out and she was just sitting there in the cold, trying to stay angry, because crying would just make her feel fucking pathetic.
As much as she hated it, Bobby was right. Who would have believed her? She never made effort to become friends with other people in their party. She used to have Bobby and that used to be enough. And even after months, she was the new kid while he was their friend and…
They would call her a whore. A half-baked seductress. An emotionally-unstable kid. Someone who had tried to corrupt a married, pious man. Rumors like that would ruin her, make it impossible to be hired in any party that was worth half a coin.
No one would believe her. They would all jump to protect his name, his career.
(Alone. She was completely and utterly alone.)
It took Sandralynn a week to build up the courage to talk to Fig again. A week of Fig being out almost all the time, saying she and the Bad Kids were working on something important.
"Fig?" Sandralynn tapped Fig's door with her foot, hands busy with two mugs she was holding. There was no response but Sandralynn knew Fig had to be inside, so she slowly pushed the door open.
She froze. The room was filled with a smell that made her gag. It was grassy and too sweet and…
(No. It's just clove cigarettes. It's not the same at all. And you knew Fig smokes clove.)
"Mom! Privacy!" Fig's outraged shout brought Sandralynn back to reality. She saw Fig sitting half in half out on the windowsill, her hair damp from the bath, a hand-rolled clove cigarette in one hand.
(Sandralynn's first instinct was to tell Fig not to smoke inside, like a hypocrite, like Sandralynn hadn't chain smoked six tar-filled, cheap cigarettes upstairs in Jawbone and her's bedroom before coming here.)
(No, her first instinct was to tell Fig to close the window so she doesn't catch a cold, as if Fig was still a little girl who could catch a cold running around after bath.)
(No. Sandralynn's very, very first instinct was to cross the room and gather Fig in her arms and hug her and tell her that she loves her.)
"I made hot cocoa," she lifted the mugs.
It took Fig a moment before she took one more drag of her cigarette, threw the rest of it out the window, and walked through the room to plop down on one of the bean bags. She had her arms crossed, looking defensive. Like she was bracing herself to be told off for smoking inside.
"I need to talk with you," Sandralynn handed Fig one mug and sat on the floor in front of her. Fig sipped her cocoa, a milk mustache appearing above her lips. Sandralynn just stared at hers. She didn't feel like she could keep anything in her stomach right now. The cocoa was just an excuse to come in here. "Look, I… I know you're almost an adult. I know you feel like an adult. But I can see that something's on your mind and I want you to talk to me about it," she licked her lips. "You don't have to do everything on your own like you're some kind of hero from a TV show."
Fig rolled her eyes. "Yeah, I'm not a hero. I'm a fucking Archdevil," she said with a smirk and it was clear what she meant by that: I don't need your concern. I don't need your help. I'm something grander than most people can ever aspire to be.
And she was sitting in the bean bag, her hair smelling like strawberry shampoo, holding a mug of hot cocoa.
'Yes, you are an Archdevil. You are incredible,' Sandralynn thought. 'But you're still my daughter.'
The question tumbled down Sandralynn's tongue. It wasn't perfect, it wasn't exactly right, but it was.
"What's up with Porter?"
Fig's eyes went wide as saucers and Sandralynn felt as if someone had impaled her on a spear.
"How do you know about Porter?" Fig asked and Sandralynn didn't know whether she should cry or laugh.
"Just…" she shook her head. Inhale. Exhale. She had to do this. She had to keep it together. "Tell me, Fig. What's up with you and Porter? I want to hear all of it. And I want to hear it from you."
She watched Fig's shoulders sag. The way she bit on her lower lip, worrying it between her teeth.
"Ever since the freshman year, I knew there was something about him," Fig said, finally. "I didn't even see him all that often back then, but there was something about him… He was just so…" Fig shook her head.
(Charming. Eager to talk with me. Treating me like an adult. Treating me like I was someone special.)
"And so," Fig was still talking and Sandralynn was in a strange, out-of-her-body state, half-listening, her thoughts hazy. She had to put conscious effort into breathing. "I followed him around a little, just to see what he was up to…"
(He intrigued me. I wanted to understand him. I wanted to know more about him. To know what made him tick and laugh and how to make him look at me like he was impressed with me. I have pushed my leg against his to see if he would shiver too. I took his cigarette and smoked it to know what his mouth tasted like.)
"But we didn't really talk until this year and…"
(And there was just this instant connection. Like he knew exactly what to say, what to do, even when I was completely clueless.)
"…and I have spend a lot of time around him…"
(And it felt so right. Like finally I have found my place, a person who actually got me. I would do anything for him. I just wanted for him to stay with me. To make me feel like I wasn't something broken.)
"But recently I've started to question if what I thought about him was true…"
(It started slowly. Himm not kissing me anymore when we had sex. The way he went from irritation to smiles in span of seconds when he wanted something from me. He didn't even bother hiding it anymore. He stopped "needing" me and started "wanting". I should have known that he was playing me, manipulating me. But I felt so angry, so lonely and he just… made it all go away. Like a good drug.)
"But it's fine because…"
(I loved him. I thought loved him. I thought I was in love with him.)
"…so now we have a hard proof that Porter's a fucking villain and we can bring him down! And since Riz had found that link between Porter and that forgotten goddess, we're thinking about…"
Sandralynn felt as if someone had hit her in the back of a head with a brick.
"Porter's… a bad guy?" she said, very slowly, not trusting that she had understood that correctly.
"Well, duh!? I've been telling everyone since freshman year! I kept saying he's fishy and I got creeps just thinking about him, but nobody believed me! But now that Riz had found that link between him and this old goddess, we can use it and make him…" Fig suddenly paused. "Mom? Mom, what's wrong?"
Sandralynn blinked, only then realizing there were tears falling down her cheeks.
"Nothing," Sandralynn shook her head, wiping her face clean with a sleeve. "I'm fine."
(Relieved. She was so relieved. Of course her daughter was smarter than she had been at her age. Of course Fig wouldn't fall for someone like Bobby. Someone like Porter.)
Fig put down her mug and awkwardly scrambled to kneel on the floor next to Sandralynn. "Mom, no offense but you don't look fine."
"I am. I really am," Sandralynn kept saying. Because she was. Finally, finally, she was fine. She had spent the last week sleepless, trying to build a version of her story that she could tell Fig. Something to make Fig know she got it and she would believe her. To make Fig open up to her and talk about Porter and maybe even cry because gods knew Sandralynn would have done anything to have a shoulder to cry on back in that cave with Bobby and in the weeks that followed.
But she was fine now, because there was no need to talk with Fig about any of it.
Because Fig was smarter than that and would never have to know.
Sandralynn threw her arms around Fig and gave her a long, tight hug. She inhaled the smell of clove and strawberry and cocoa and hellfire.
She would never have to know.