Just the Two of Us

The door creaks open, and Clara’s head appears above the threshold. Her eyes widen, filled with something Brianna can’t quite name, and isn’t sure she wants to. It hurts too much to consider.

“What are you doing here?” Clara asks, her voice barely above a whisper.

All at once, Brianna doesn't know what to say. What could she say after everything she’d done? She opens and closes her mouth in an aborted motion, hoping to say something—anything—but nothing comes out.

Clara drags a hand down her face, looking more exhausted than Brianna had ever seen her. “I should turn you in.”

Brianna’s fists clench at the reminder, and her gaze falls to the floor as she’s suddenly unable to look Clara in the eye—to face everything she’d done.

“I won’t apologize,” she starts, cringing at the hoarseness of her own voice. “I—I can’t.”

“You should go.”

Clara’s voice is cold now, and harsh. So much different than the warmth it always held when she would lie with her face buried in Brianna’s hair and they would talk quietly long into the night, wrapped in each other’s company. It feels like losing a limb, knowing things will never be the same when all Brianna wants is to fall into Clara’s arms and never let go.

“I can’t do that either.”

“Then what do you want? I don’t want to fight you.”

Finally, Brianna summons up the nerve to meet Clara’s tired gaze. The bags under her brown eyes are stark against her dark skin and make her look like she’s aged decades since Brianna last saw her.

“I wanted to—” Brianna cuts herself off with a curse. “I want to explain—everything.”

Clara scoffs bitterly. “What is there to explain? I think your actions speak for themselves, Brianna.”

“There’s more to it than that and you know it.”

“It doesn’t matter. We can’t change the way things are—”

“But that doesn’t have to be the case!” Brianna blurts out. “I can—we can leave. Pretend this never happened and start over.”

“No, we can’t,” Clara says. “So many people have died because of what you’ve done. That’s inexcusable.”

“What about me? What about what they did to me? Does that—does that mean nothing to you?” Her voice breaks. “They framed me and left me to rot in prison. Do you have any idea what that prison does to you—what the magic in it does to you? It’s awful, Clara, it gets into your head until there’s nothing left. I almost died in that fucking place!”

“That’s—” Clara squeezes her eyes shut. “You killed so many people, Brianna. I’ve seen the pictures, and they’re horrible. You didn’t just kill them, you made sure it hurt.”

“Only the ones that deserved it!” Tears burn at the corner of Brianna’s eyes, and she fights to hold them in. “These people can’t be allowed to do whatever they want just because they were born with powerful magic. And if I’m powerful enough to stop them, what else am I supposed to do? They deserve to die for what they did to me, and anyone who gets in my way deserves the same.”

“Do you hear yourself? You sound like a zealot! I can barely recognize you anymore, Bri.”

Brianna recoils like she’s been struck. “How can you say that? Just because I’m not the same dumb bitch that would roll over and take everybody’s shit doesn’t mean I’m some stranger. You know me, Clara.”

Clara shakes her head rapidly, dislodging the messy bun on her head and sending tangled brown curls spiralling down her shoulders. “But I don’t know you! I’ve seen the people you’ve driven from their homes. I’ve rescued little girls and little boys who wanted to know why their parents and friends weren’t coming for them, and I couldn’t give them a good answer because there isn’t one. This isn’t the revolution you think it is. This isn’t who you are, Bri.”

This isn’t who you are. The words ring through Brianna’s head, and she wants to scream, Yes, it is! She wants to set herself alight and bring the whole world down with her. Maybe then, she can have peace. Maybe then, she can be happy again. Maybe then, the blood on her hands will actually mean something.

“I was a child too,” Brianna whispers, and the tears finally break through and trail down her freckled cheeks. “Doesn’t that mean anything to you? And it wasn’t just me. There were so many others whose only crime was being the bastard child of someone too powerful. Of one of the people you work beside.”

A terrible resignation glows in Clara’s eyes. “Then why don’t you kill me too.”

Brianna’s heart clenches in her chest and all of a sudden, she feels like throwing up. “What?”

“If I’m just like them, then why don’t you kill me too.”

“You’re nothing like them,” Brianna breathes.

Clara smiles sadly. “Aren’t I? You said it yourself: I work beside them.”

“You didn’t know,” Brianna protests, voice barely audible.

“You’ve killed for less.”

“You didn’t know.”

“No, I didn’t.” She opens the door farther and gestures to the couch inside. “Do you want to come in?”

Brianna swallows around the lump in her throat and steps past Clara and into the dark apartment. It isn’t large, but it’s furnished with high-quality furniture. Pictures of Clara and some of her friends and colleagues adorn the walls. It looks lived in. It looks like a place Brianna won’t fit into anymore.

“Do you want tea?” Clara asks quietly, already moving to make herself some.

“Ok.”

Hesitantly, Brianna sits down on the couch. It’s soft, almost too soft. She twists her trembling fingers into the hem of her skirt and takes a deep breath.

“Why didn’t you do anything when you learned what they were doing? You could have helped us, you could have—”

Clara places a streaming mug in front of Brianna. “It’s not that simple anymore.”

“Why can’t it be?” Brianna asks, her voice small.

The couch dips beside her as Clara sits down—closer than Brianna expects. “It’s war,” she says simply. “And most of the people you’re fighting beside aren’t like you. They want power too, and I know you know that; they’re just the people who helped you when no one else realized you needed it, so you feel like you have no one else to turn to.”

“And do I?” Brianna turns to look at Clara with something like hope in her eyes. “Do I have someone to turn to?”

A warm hand presses over Brianna’s and squeezes. “Always. But you have to know I can’t stand beside your allies willingly, knowing what they’ve done and what they’re willing to keep doing.”

Brianna squeezes back, desperate to never let Clara go again. “But you’ll stand by me even though I’ve done awful things too? Even though I don’t regret them? Even though I’m a monster?”

Warm breath ghosts over Brianna’s face as Clara presses their foreheads together. “You’re not a monster, Bri. We can fix this, together. I promise.”

“How? Your side hurts people, too, they’ll keep hurting people. They hurt me.”

Clara pulls back and holds up their twined fingers. “We’ll make our own side, just the two of us. Together.”

A watery laugh bursts out of Brianna’s chest. “You’d do that for me?”

“I’d do anything for you.”

With a sob, Brianna collapses into Clara’s arms and thinks, for the first time, that everything might be ok.