I am not throwing away my SHOT

Yeah. I do. I think I do. Even if Carmen had expected to hear it, even if she knew her friend well enough to prepare herself for that particular sentiment, the words still stung. They still cut to her core. Taking a shaky breath, the brunette swallowed down her mounting desire to cry along with any excuse, any justification that might spring to mind. Because the truth was that she had made a choice. In the face of certain death, she had made a conscious choice to survive when other people died, and she was the one who had to learn how to live with that. But everyone else? They had to live with the permanent loss that she hadn’t even tried to prevent. And honestly, she couldn’t fault them for wanting blame her.

Truth be told, Carmen couldn’t remember a time in her life when she had felt less like a soldier. Less like a hero. Less like the person that she had always tried to be; not only for herself, but for the people around her who had come to depend on her, who counted on her to be better. So much so that the word failure was not even close to enough to cover the feeling of inadequecy that came with that knowledge.

The Hearts were her family, and she cared about them deeply, but Samantha belonged to an even smaller subset of people whom she absolutely loved, fiercely and unconditionally and without reservation, and could barely stand to hurt or disappoint in any way. And that was almost the worst part, after the pain and the grief and the guilt; knowing that when it really mattered, she had let one of her best friends down. One of her first friends. One of the only people in her life who could remotely relate to the things that she had been through, and for whom Carmen desperately wanted to be so much more than this, be someone that she could put her trust and faith in. That she could look up to. “I’m sorry, Sam,” she whispered quietly, tears finally spilling out and trickling silently down her cheek. “I’m sorry that I let you down. I’m sorry that I couldn’t be the person that you need me to be. I’m… I’m so sorry.”

After she had spoke it was as if suddenly everything in her body had been let loose. Her vision began to shake, her body trembled, her breathing came in short bursts as she attempted to focus in on Carmen’s reply over her own thoughts. ‘I couldn’t be the person that you need me to be’ But no one was ever going to be the person Samantha would need them to be. She knew this, she’d known it for so long now that the space of time it had been there made her ache in it’s own way. Pushing her hands through her hair Samantha’s fingers began twisting up in the locks looking for something to ground herself. 

“That’s not th--- Carmen that’s not even the fucking point.” She cried back jaw shaking, she was so tired of it, she was so tired of protecting yourself in spite of someone else. She was so damn tired of the entire world being wired on this line where someone could curl up and protect themselves, she didn’t understand it, she couldn’t comprehend it--- had too many times been on the other end of it. “I don’t need you to be---- they needed you! They’re--- were trainees! They didn’t know what the fuck they were doing--- those were trained assassins--- I know you’re--” She forgot at times that Carmen was a trainee, she wasn’t quite there yet but she’d been advanced enough, older, spending her time with Ashley, Amy and herself, it made it easy to forget. “----but you were the one there that knew the most Carmen. Even if it’s just how to throw a better punch you’re supposed to fight!” The last sentence tore itself from her throat. “You can’t just runaway! You can’t--- can’t just protect yourself and hide because you’re scared! They were fucking kids. They were slaughtered.” She cried out to her voice clogging around the word. “We have a responsibility--- to do something. If you can do something, then you have to do something. You can’t give up--- you can’t hide.”

She sat on the edge of the desk, close enough that if she turned to look she could very clearly see what was happening amongst the papers, yet far enough that she wasn’t disturbing anything. Her head was turned to the wide window unblinkingly watching the world beyond the pane. If someone had asked a week ago if she was to be found there Samantha would have called the person in question an idiot. Yet the redhead was much like an elephant in the sense where she never forgot a tiny bit of kindness another person would offer her. Something that was quite easy to do when you grew up with very few nice things offered. So while she found the man at the desk unbearably awful at time she also found his presence today nice. She’d arrived before he had once more picking the lock, yet this time simply sitting at the desk staring out the window, leaving everything else be, she’d never sought out silence before. Never in the past year had Samantha thought she’d avoid the HQ but following the massacre and her conversation with Carmen it was exactly what she’d done. The older girl had asked her if she’d blamed her and the answer that she thought maybe she did had been likely of no surprise to the pair. It’d be silly to expect everyone to react in the same manner that she would, not everyone played with fire as literally and figuratively as the redhead did. Yet she knew she’d happily have died if it meant taking down as many of the perpetrators as she could in the act. She didn’t wish Carmen was dead, but she did wish she’d acted even if it had left her dead. Two things which didn’t feel as similar as they were. Yet it ate at her and before she could even mull it over the question was escaping her lips.  “Can you not want a person dead but at the same time wish they had done something that would have ended with them being dead now? Is that... bad?” Good and bad had never been something she’d mulled over before, it’d seemed inconsequential in a life so gray. Now like the desire for silence it seemed to be clinging to the corners of her mind. “I mean I get it’s bad, that’s probably not arguable but...” She dropped off dragging in a sigh. “Whatever, it’s stupid.”

“You have a point.” Leda couldn’t help taking in the redhead with a bit of curiosity - her sunglasses and her tone seemed to betray a good night, but she didn’t comment on it at first, just  pushing a bit of hair back off her own face. “God forbid they get killed by Sixes on their way to Starbucks after yoga. Like he should give a shit - or like anyone should, really.”  It did seem to be the truth, everyone in New York so pompously self-centered. “I’m guessing you’re not one of them - concerned that you’re going to be next. I know I just don’t have time to worry about it. Don’t know why I should care, either. About -” She tapped the picture on the front page. “David or whatever the fuck his name is.”

The remark called upon a snicker from the redhead as her chin rested upon the palm of her hand. She tried to imagine Sixes take on anyone on their way to yoga but the only image she could bring to mind was of her fearless leader in a ‘hot for yoga’ outfit over his suit. “If they’re going to Starbucks they only have themselves to blame if they get taken out. A David strikes me as a bit of a little bitch so he’s probably just getting some karma.” Samantha proceed to grumble under her breath something that sounded suspiciously like  ‘---overpriced shitty dirt covered in whipped cream and chocolate sauce.’ Running her freehand through her hair Samantha pulled her locks over her shoulder hoping to use the mass to block out the sun trying to slip in from the corner of her glasses. At the question however a grin slid across her face a brow raising up from behind her sunglasses. “Nah, I’m not scared of Sixes or his gang. They haven’t actually hurt anyone who isn’t a Diamond or some shit from what I’ve seen and a lot of the other crap is just framing.” 

It had been a while since she had seen Samantha. Truth be told, Carmen was not entirely sure if that was simply a quirk of fate, or if it was intentional — if the younger girl was actively staying away from her. Or maybe it was the reverse. Maybe she was the one who was doing the avoiding. After all, the brunette hadn’t done much but work, and work, and then work some more, before going home to barely sleep and then get up to do even more work, since the attack on their HQ. Her days were consumed by one thing and one thing only: figuring out who each and every one of the guilty parties were, then making it right. She had to make it right. It was her responsibility.

She had been there, and she had done absolutely nothing.

Maybe that was the reason that Sam was the last person Carmen wanted to face. Maybe she stayed away for so long because she knew that if it would have been Sam, then Sam would have done something; maybe she wouldn’t have charged out guns blazing, maybe she wouldn’t have been able to save those people, but she wouldn’t have stood idly by and just let it happen. Because Samantha was bold, much like the fiery colour of her hair and the fires that she set ever so often, and Carmen… Carmen wasn’t like that, at all. She had none of that angry, relentless defiance in her. Just a stubborn knack for staying alive.

Eventually, however, concern for her friend won out over any fear of judgement, and after spending a few hours searching the usual places, the brunette finally found her right as a nearby dumpster was engulfed in flames. Yet as Samantha turned to face her, tears pooling in her eyes, Carmen couldn’t bring herself to say anything. Not a goddamn word. Instead she stepped forward, coming to a halt beside the other girl and simply watched the flames for a while, a blank expression on her face.

“Do you blame me?” she asked eventually, without looking away from the scene in front of them. “Because it’s all right if you do. I blame me too.”

She watched eyes wide and unblinking as Carmen came into view stepping up beside her. It wasn’t who she expected to see, Samantha didn’t know if there was anyone she’d expect to see however. When the question was asked the redhead felt herself pausing--- for all of her life there was a response on her lips. The whole situation had thrown her off kilter however, from the moment she’d met her Samantha had felt an immediate attachment to Carmen. The abuse, the running, although she’d never find someone who had walked the same line as her Carmen had held shadows of her own strife. It’d felt like an abstract symmetry, someone who might be like her, someone who valued loyalty. Now she didn’t know how much of it was projection and how much of it was truth. 

There should have been words rolling off her tongue, crass objections, long winded rants about what should have been done--- but she hadn’t expected to ever have to say such a thing to her. Her mind was so one-tracked, action came first to her, restraint did not exist to her, plans came as she acted, her mind worked in tune with her. Samantha couldn’t comprehend it, how someone could hide, how someone couldn’t throw themselves in the way to protect another, even at the inevitability of death. How could a person hesitate, how could they not take the challenge ahead of them and change the game, raise the stakes, how could someone just... not? She seemed to be an expert on surviving but self-preservation had never been who she was.

Samantha could never want Carmen to be dead, but at the same time she couldn’t help but wish she’d done something even if it meant she wasn’t standing in front of her--- and she just didn’t know how to process that. Her brows slowly furrowed as the answer came to her, although it’d always been there. “Yeah...” She swallowed thickly eyes falling to the ground as she flicked the lighter a few times spark springing into the air but never catching. “I do. I think I do.” She didn’t blame her for their deaths, but she couldn’t help but blame her for not doing something.