#anyway I have spent my morning writing away my sadness after finally watching Etho's ep

[shadeswift99]

Forget Me Not

Characters: Etho, Tango, Bdubs by association (no screen time but he might as well be there, he takes up more than enough space ;-;)

Tags: Ow. Yeah that’s about it

Words: 1241

“How long have you been here,” Tango asked softly.

Etho made no reply.

“I...I wanted to let you know, it wasn’t me.”

“I know.” Etho’s communicator still lay where it had fallen beside him. He would have seen the death message in chat, Tango knew.

The kill message.

Read it on Ao3

(The Way Back and Déjà Vu are not prerequisites but do connect)

“You shouldn’t be here.”

“You shouldn’t either.”

Tango tucked his hands under his arms against the cold and stared across the muddied courtyard, not willing to move any closer. The man kneeling in the center of the wreckage didn’t look like he was capable of attacking, but, well...after today, he wasn’t going to take any chances.

“I thought this place was abandoned. Thought you’d gone off with the rest of the green names.”

“I did. They sent me back here to get potions.” Etho’s voice was strangely calm, given the circumstances. He was turned away, so Tango couldn’t see his face, but his back moved back and forth slowly, almost like a dance. He seemed to be holding something in his hands.

Cautiously, Tango moved closer. His boots crunched on the snow and frozen blood that lined the hollowed-out remains of their old fortress. Etho showed no signs of noticing him as he came around. He just kept swaying gently back and forth, leaning forward to scoop up a pile of crystalized snow and ice from the ground, then leaning back. Pressing it hard together between his palms and watching as the dry flakes separated and sifted back down through his fingers. Staring for a moment at his hands, left empty, before he started again.

“How long have you been here,” Tango asked softly.

Etho made no reply.

“I...I wanted to let you know, it wasn’t me.”

“I know.” Etho’s communicator still lay where it had fallen beside him. He would have seen the death message in chat, Tango knew. The kill message.

“You saw. It was Grian. I tried to stop him -”

“That’s a lie.” Etho let out a sharp, choked noise, a laugh that barely qualified. “Two lies. You didn’t try to stop him. And it was me.”

Tango opened his mouth, but no words came.

“I sent him to his death. I sent him to kill Lizzie. I told him that to get a life from me he’d have to prove himself, as if he hadn’t already fought a god with me, as if the moment he turned red he didn’t run away just so he wouldn’t have to hurt me…”

“He knew he couldn’t kill you anyway. It was only self-defense.”

“So you’re willing to lie to me, but you won’t let me lie to myself in peace.”

His voice had the tone of bone scraped bare. He picked up another handful of snow.

A long, hollow silence passed. The bitter wind sent spruce needles skittering across the shattered boards of the walkways, slipping between the cracks and bouncing to rest in the churned-up mud from the battle. The sky stretched blank and grey-white overhead, seeming almost too wide without the proud snow towers standing to break it up.

Tango almost told Etho that he wished he’d helped fight the Wither, but he didn’t want to tell another lie. He had only one life to lose, after all, and now more than ever it was clear how little that loss could take. So instead, he just stood, watching his former ally gaze out into the distance with flat, unfocused eyes.

Vaguely, he noticed that Etho wasn’t wearing any armour.

His hand brushed the hilt of his sword...then fell back to his side. Red though he was, any trace of bloodlust had left him the moment he watched Bdubs fall. Yes, he had fired his own shots - it was true that he didn’t try to stop it - but none of them had landed. In retrospect, he told himself that it was more than his bad aim. He told himself that the rage that still pushed through his veins as he shot had been forced, not genuine. He told himself he had never wanted this, so it would hurt less now, now that it was far too late to turn back the clock.

The wind stung his already reddened eyes. He pulled his shield closer to his side, blocking it.

He said the only thing he could say now that wouldn’t be a lie.

“I’m sorry.”

At last, Etho looked over to him. Tango was startled to see that his mask was pulled down, and tears flowed freely down his scarred cheeks. It felt wrong to see him without the covering, too much like reading a mind, too much of his soul laid out bare and bloody for whoever cared to look.

“Etho…”

“I wish it had been you. If it had been you, I could kill you right now and pretend that made it better, I could -” He punched a fist down into the frozen ground and buried his head in his arms. The sudden movement made Tango flinch.

“He said we could burn the world together.” The words came out muffled and saturated with all the pain that his earlier numbness must have kept at bay. “The world is burning, Tango. Why aren’t we together?”

Tango had no answer. There never truly is.

No answer, but he knew what he had to do. Etho didn’t raise his head as he walked past him, climbing the ruins of the staircase towards what used to be their storage room and bedroom. Tango lifted the door from where it leaned haphazardly against the wall and swung it back on its remaining hinge, blocking out a little of the cold and his sight of the broken figure in the courtyard. He looked around.

Surprisingly, given the number of explosions today, this room had remained largely unscathed. The bed still stood in the corner, and all the chests seemed to be in order. Tango walked over to the crafting table. His heart twisted a little as he moved aside the piles of loose papers cluttering the surface, a “We’re out of regen. Make more?” note from Skizz, a “Left wall trapped, do NOT break the cobble” warning from himself...a “Back soon. - B” that he pretended not to see. He pushed a mug of cold tea out of the way with his arm and -

“Ow!” He hissed in pain as something stung his hand.

A single, wilting wither rose drooped over the lip of the mug. He hadn’t noticed it at first, until one of its thin petals had fallen and grazed his hand, but there it was. Dangerous, deadly, dying. The tea in the battered “Base Buddies” mug already starting to freeze around its stem. This world was simply too cold for it to live. Tango knew that. The person who put it here must have known that, too.

Ignoring the pain, he pulled the rose from the mug and pinched it between his fingers. With the black sap from its stem, he wrote one final note on the back of the “Back soon. - B.” Finally, he dug his blistered fingers into his pocket and wrapped them around the now-targetless piece of magic he’d kept with him this whole time, the only thing he had left to give.

When Etho decides to stand up and continue - as all things must, come death or love or pain in the ever-turning wheel that is life - he will walk to the storage room to get those potions. And he will find a shriveled, fragile little flower, sitting beside a bright green crystal that hums with all the contained rage and fury that he still has buried beneath his grief - and a note that says: “You need this more than I do.”

#last life smp #ethoslab #bdouble0100 #tangotek #wither rose divorcees #< after last season's flower husbands I WILL be calling them that nobody can stop me this is their tag now #anyway I have spent my morning writing away my sadness after finally watching Etho's ep #and guess what! the sadness is still there! #so now you guys get it! #enjoy! I will be reading tags left on this and sobbing #a good hobby #shade writes