Chapter 48

Volger is sitting on the edge of her bed when she wakes up, legs swinging arms outstretched head thrown back, every inch the open target like they have been taught not to be, and he turns to her with a smile and a gun and she is prepared to die because god, please, let her out let her out let her out.

Volger is sitting on the edge of her bed when she wakes up, legs swinging arms outstretched head thrown back, every inch the open target like they have been taught not to be, and he turns to her with a smile welcoming her back and a tongue wondering why she is there, Little Mouse that she is, and she is confused and worried and maybe, for a second, longing (which is silly, of course, because weapons have no concept of want).

Volger is sitting on the edge of her bed when she wakes up, legs swinging arms outstretched head thrown back, every inch the open target like they have been taught not to be, and he is quiet quiet quiet, lips in blue and purple, skin cold as one of the labs, and she is at peace.

Volger is sitting on the edge of her bed when she wakes up, and he is bleeding onto her sheets, legs on the floor and fingers scattered across the coverlet, grinning vacantly at the ceiling, eyes torn halfway out of his head, and she is angry because really, did he not pay attention in any of the classes they had to sit through, strapped to the seats so they couldn't escape? Blood is difficult to wash out, especially when it has already had time to dry, and she doesn't see him volunteering to clean up his mess, lazy dismembered idiot that he is.

Volger is sitting on the edge of her bed when she wakes up, and his eyes are confused and too-big, his ribs prominent through his shirt, thoughts that aren't his and scars that are swimming through a broken mind as he waits and watches and stays by her side, and she puts her arms around him and is so, so sorry and he is too and together, they are okay.

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There is anger and pain and her arm is hurting; she spins, and there is a boot in her ribs but she has an elbow in his face and its okay, its okay, because he is screaming and crying and pleading and so is she, so is she, to please please don't make her do this Don't Make Her Do This as the words fall out of uncaring mouths.

They are puppets, lifeless and bound to their master's will, twirling along on strings made of chemicals and metal and blood, kicking and clawing and biting and scratching like wild animals, blood on the walls and bone shards on the ground.

Please, she begs, and breaks the bones in his arm one after the other, hears them snap like twigs and she is sick and he is sick and they are both past screaming now because there is only this, only this, making them do this to each other, holding them back from ending it, holding her back from ending it, forcing them to rip each other apart.

"'S…okay," Volger whispers, mouth gaping tongue lolling, strands of vomit and blood and saliva forming webbing between splinters of what-once-were teeth, and she cries harder because it isn't okay, it isn't it isn't it isn't and her hands keep moving, keep breaking, until the order comes through and she stumbles away sobbing, collapsing into a corner, a little marionette with all her strings cut.

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Volger is sitting on the edge of her bed when she wakes up, legs swinging arms outstretched head thrown back, every inch the open target like they have been taught not to be, and when he sees her staring he smiles, bright and carefree.

"Hello," he says.

"I died," he says.

"You killed me," he says.

"This is all your fault," he says.

"I didn't want to leave you alone," he says, and she laughs until she cries.

A/N: Oh my god, I am so sorry. I'm a horrible person and I apologize profusely for that. This is short (I know, I know), but it needed to be written so that the next chapter can be long and wonderful and make absolutely no sense in a way that you can understand. And yes, Volger is dead. This officially kicks off part two of the story, and introduces my absolute favorite character (Dead Volger) besides River. And it's probably not the best writing I've ever done, so I apologize for that too. Like I said, it needed to be done.

Also, a shoutout to Lookatthehouses, who recently favorited/followed/reviewed a bunch of things and doesn't have PM enabled so I could thank them: Thank you. And yes, that thing you said might be a typo was a typo; I think I meant to write something about how they don't break their promises, but I changed my mind or wasn't paying attention and mixed my sentences. Thanks for the catch, and I will change that immediately.

Please review as well. Frankly I don't care if you just want to complain about how shoddy this chapter was in comparison to the update time; I just want to see how many people are still alive. Consider it a roll call of sorts.

And again, I'm so sorry! I throw myself on your mercy.