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Part Seven

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"No! Stop talking!" Mockingbird begs him, voice hoarse after having just woken from what should have been only a dream. Her mind runs in circles, memories surfacing, hurting, tearing at her stomach, her ribs, from the inside out.

"I only wanted to help-" He stops as she throws a hand up to ward off his words, pale red eyes swimming into her mind and throwing her off balance. She lurches, and he does too, to catch her before she can slip off the other side of the bed. His hand is warmer than she expects, his fingers wrapped securely around her wrist and freezing her in a precarious moment.

Quill allows herself to be pulled upright once more, then pulls her knees close to her chest. "Leave, please. I don't want to remember." She pleads with him, eyes shut tight against what she considers to be his assault, "I don't want to remember any of it. It hurts, Solace, so much. Please, leave; don't talk, don't touch me, just- leave me be."

And to her surprise, he does. She almost regrets it when his hand releases hers, exposing her skin to cold air, but the knowledge he has shared with her, revealed to her and pulled from her, sits deep within her as if a stone has been dropped and left to crumble.

Ghost remembers an invasion of her only solace, and no, she doesn't mean the obnoxious god that might not be quite as arrogant as she thought. Instead, she remembers familiar energy filling the room like smoke, engulfing her in a wave ten times, a hundred times as strong as Solace's had been, and a voice she should have recognized sooner, so much like hers.

Quill wishes the stone would crumble faster.

 


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