oblivion [druig]

22

PRESENT-DAY 

I find it strange, knowing I've been part of thousands of emergences, and yet I fail to remember any of them. 

This team has been together for millions of years. We've lived thousands of lives and re-met each other over and over again for the majority of eternity. 

I wonder if each time it's different. I wonder if I had the same personality each time, or if I got along with the same people. I wonder if I even had the same name. 

I wonder for a moment if, in all of those past lives, Sersi and Ikaris always ended up together. If Sprite always fell in love with Ikaris but never could have him. If maybe there was a time where all of us hated each other or one where we never split and always remained together until the emergence. 

Curiosity nips at me, filling me with questions I'm not sure I'll ever know the answer to because if we stop this emergence, I'm sure that Arishem will hunt us forever. 

There was no way he was going to let us live if we went through with this.

I give myself a second to think about it. 

I would be running away–probably for the rest of my life. I look around me, my eyes stopping on Druig for a moment. 

My heart slows slightly, calm with the reassurance that whatever happened, Druig would be there with me. 

I could run for a million years, but as long as I was with him I didn't really care. 

 Sighing, I take a seat one of the plush old couches Makkari has probably stolen from someone at some important point in history. 

For a second I think about what might happen if we aren't able to stop it. Dread washes over me like a wave. There was no way I could forget Druig. I couldn't forget about all of us. This was my family. 

Fear bubble up to my throat, a panic setting in behind it. The thought of forgetting their existence– of ever having met them scaring me out of my mind.

We would start all over again on another planet, but it wouldn't be the same. 

I'd lived thousands of lives, and even though I didn't remember any of them, I had a feeling none of them compared to being here on Earth. 

The couch dips beside me as he sits, exhaling a long breath he seemed to have been holding. I turn to face him, offering a small smile I know doesn't meet my eyes. 

His eyes are shut, and he leans back, his head tilting to face the roof. I take a moment to scan him and his features–the way the stress lines on his forehead seem to smooth over as he relaxes. 

As I watch him exhaustion washes over me, even though I know it's the last thing that I should be feeling. Not when the entire world is at risk. 

I turn to look at my hands, running my fingers softly through the scars that have been left over my years of fighting. 

"What is it?" He asks softly from beside me.