fandom: the guy who didn’t like musicals, black friday
summary: after emma dies, she starts to see things. set after the events of tgwdlm
warnings: swearing, references/mentions of death
Emma was floating. Or, not really floating. Just existing. In some sort of endless void.
Emma felt something trickle down her chin. She wearily touched
it, and pulled her fingers away to see a glimmering blue substance on
Ah. So she was basically dead.
“Great,” Emma muttered, shuddering. It wasn’t cold in the void
per se, but it still sent chills down her spine. She had a feeling she
Emma was seeing things. There was the darkness, but just in
front of that, she saw destruction of a familiar small town located on
an island. And the destruction of it several times more.
“Can you see them too?”
Emma tensed. She couldn’t see Paul, but she didn’t have to. She
knew his voice. She would know it anywhere, even as she viewed the
visions flashing before her eyes, as she heard it mixed in with the
voices of others.
“Yeah,” she said, wiping the blue shit on her shirt. “What are they?” she asked. “Are these all… Hatchetfield?”
A hand rested on Emma’s shoulder. She looked up–sure enough,
Paul was there. But it wasn’t the alien-possessed Paul she had seen
before she died. It was
, his actual, human self, his signature look of worry and discomfort on his face. Emma let herself relax under his touch.
“It is,” he said. “As far as I can tell though, they’re not really… the same Hatchetfields.”
“Alternate universes, timelines and shit?”
“Seems like it.”
Innocent bystanders joining a cult of rabid followers of an
eldritch god, or resisting and getting torn apart by them. A bomb
descending onto the town, decimating it completely. Emma as the Hive
slowly descended on her, ready to make her one of them, with people
laughing as if her plight were one big comedic final act. A thousand
other possibilities all cramming into her brain, none happy, none
hopeful, none ending well.
“It always ends like this?” Emma’s hand drifted up to Paul’s
resting on her shoulder and clutched it. “With everyone just dying?”
“In the ones we’ve seen so far.” Paul gripped her hand tighter
back. “There could be a single outcome where everything turns out fine,
but I haven’t found it.”
“That fucking sucks.”
“Yeah.” Paul chuckled softly, without amusement. Or maybe a
little amusement, at how ridiculous the situation was. Emma sure found
it so. Hatchetfield, with no happy ending whatsoever. Hatchetfield,
always sure to end in misery and destruction. If you asked Emma, it was
fucking absurd. Absurd to the highest degree.
“It’s a pity, isn’t it?” Paul said.
“Yeah,” Emma intoned. “Yeah, it is.”
They were in the Black and White, and then, they weren’t.