thinking about a light or somethin’ and vulnerability. specifically that we see more intentional vulnerability from swan in about a minute than we see from mercy in the entire album… except it’s being used defensively. she’s trying to skip straight to what she sees as the inevitable outcome - if mercy’s going to leave once she gets to know her, why not just get through that right now? it’ll hurt less.
and mercy, on the other hand… I don’t think she’s intentionally putting herself on the back foot, here, but “what do you see in me? what was it about me that made you stand up for a complete stranger?” is a hell of a vulnerable question to be asking someone you’ve just met. I think she’s used to a very specific form of transactional relationship, and she’s thrown by swan very clearly not expecting that. so she’s desperately trying to figure out what the parameters of this new dynamic are, and tentatively hopeful that swan might have seen something in her beyond physical attractiveness - might have seen her the way she wants to be seen, as someone brave and capable, who has a place within the warriors.
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"Waiting For The Axe To Fall" - Warriors Concept Album fanfic (part 5/?)
This chapter has been in development since April and it's still shorter than I planned and I apologize sincerely for that. Enjoy!
Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4
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Rembrandt refused to cry. She sat on the stoop with her knees pulled to her chest and her face hidden against her thighs, breathing shakily as she fought to keep her composure. She was not going to break down in public, on her stoop in the dead of night. She’d learned as a child how to silence her sobs and she was grown now and was not going to let anything take the little bit of strength she clung to. Not even this.
Not even Ajax looking her in the eyes and telling her there was no reason for her to stay anymore and she should just go-
A strangled cry slipped past her teeth. She clapped both hands over her mouth, squeezing her eyes shut and curling into a tighter ball. She was not going to break down over this!
Heavy boots clicked on the sidewalk down the street. They stopped in front of her, and she heard a tired sigh before the footsteps climbed the stairs and there was a warm body by her side. A calloused hand landed on her knee.
“You want to talk about it here,” Cochise asked, “or do you want to wait until we’re at Cleon’s? Or neither. You don’t have to talk about it at all if that’s what you choose.”
“Cleon’s gonna make me,” Rembrandt mumbled through her hands.
“Maybe,” Cochise admitted. “But I don’t think she’ll do it tonight. Not in depth. And you don’t gotta tell her anything you don’t want to, aight? Unless the crew’s in trouble, your relationship is your business, that’s what Cleon’s rule has always been.”
Rembrandt sniffed, finally lifting her head to glance over at Cochise, who offered a tiny smile. “Maybe Ziggy’s got a point about dating within the ranks.”
“You wanna tell Swan and Mercy that?” she pointed out. It got the smallest of sad laughs from Rembrandt. “Ziggy’s not like Cleon. She’s got different ways of keeping her people in line, especially after her old second-in-command turned on her.” She glanced over her shoulder at the apartment building. “You saw that tonight.”
Rembrandt shuddered. “Yeah. I did.”
“Yeah.” Patting her on the back, Cochise took her bag from her and helped her to her feet. “C’mon. Don’t want Cleon getting worried.”
“Cleon’s always worried,” Rembrandt said under breath. “Are the others over there?”
“Not right now but they’re gonna be back soon. You don’t gotta tell them anything you don’t want to.”
“Right.”
Cochise sighed heavily. “Do you want a cigarette?”
“Please.”
Cleon waited for them back at her apartment, sitting at the kitchen table with her hands clasped tight, lost in thought. She stood and met them at the door. As Cochise brought Rembrandt’s bag to the spare room that served more as a storage closet now, Cleon reached for her. The tagger shot her a dark look. She withdrew. A string of venomous thoughts raced through Rembrandt’s mind.
If you hadn’t kept her on the sidelines. If you hadn’t treated her like she was useless. If you hadn’t made us go to that fucking summit.
The vitriol and blame faded as fast as they hit her. This wasn’t Cleon’s fault. She knew that. Thinking over the past few months, she couldn’t shake the awful feeling that this was a long time coming.
Cleon sat in her arm chair in the living room. Rembrandt sat on the end of the couch closest to her, crossing her arms and slouching in her seat. She stared at nothing, head down, ignoring Cleon’s intense eyes boring a hole into her. Part of her wanted to snap and demand what the fuck Cleon was looking at, but even with her heart actively shredding itself to pieces, Cleon was still her warlord and she still couldn’t talk to her like that. Their personal relationships were separate from business; Cleon would always be her leader first and her friend second. No emotion outweighed that.
The warlord cleared her throat. “Want to tell me what happened?” she ventured. Rembrandt shook her head, biting the inside of her lip. “Will you at least tell me what the fight was about?”
Rembrandt dug her nails into her bicep as she struggled to keep her voice steady. “Sly.”
“About what happened with her tonight?”
“About everything since the first meeting with the Tombstones.”
And everything since the night from hell.
Cleon sighed and dragged a hand down her face, covering her mouth in thought. Her voice was uncharacteristically weak. “I should have called Ajax out on this a long time ago.”
Rembrandt wanted to scream yes, she fucking should have. Everyone should have, but no, Cleon told them not to, Cleon told them to let Ajax readjust on her own time, and everyone including Rembrandt tiptoed around it for months just to have it blow up in her face like a misfired gun. She wrapped her arms around herself and doubled over, as if squeezing the air out of her own lungs would dispel all the pain she wanted to hurl at Cleon in the moment. She needed it out of her, needed to direct it anywhere but at herself, anything to stop the freefall of her relationship collapsing underneath her feet.
She felt like her chest was caving in, her ribcage destroyed and leaving her heart exposed and unguarded. All by the person who promised to never hurt her.
She tried like hell to be angry at Ajax but she couldn’t. Ajax wasn’t the one who brought them to this point.
This was all Rembrandt’s fault.
A gentle touch brushed her jaw. She looked up at Cleon, whose face was pinched in a tight expression somewhere between worry and sorrow as her fingertips traced the hollow of Rembrandt’s cheekbone. It was a shallow comfort, one she wanted to lean into so badly, but she didn’t. It felt like betrayal in a way she did not have the mental fortitude to interrogate.
“Cleon.” Cochise stepped around the couch, hovering by Rembrandt’s shoulder as Cleon leaned back. She jerked her thumb towards the door. “Should I…?”
Cleon shook her head. “No. Let her calm down. Tonight’s been too much already.”
“Yeah,” Rembrandt choked out. “It has.”
Sitting beside her, Cochise wrapped an arm around her shoulders and gave her a light shake. “This isn’t on you,” she insisted. “You know that, right?”
“I never should have started talking to Sly again.”
“Rem.”
“She thought I was replacing her.” She dropped her head into her hands, speaking through gritted teeth. “How did I not realize she was so jealous?”
“Ajax is grown. She should have said something.”
“But I should have noticed. We’ve been together for years, I should know her well enough by now to tell what she’s thinking!”
Cleon rested a hand on her thigh. “Don’t put that on yourself. Ajax doesn’t act like herself anymore, you can’t-”
Rembrandt whipped her head up. “You think I don’t fucking know that?!” she spat, inhibition waning.
“Is that what the fight was about?” Cochise asked in a thinly-veiled effort to redirect Rembrandt’s fury. “She was jealous about you hanging out with Sly?”
“She said I didn’t need her anymore and I should go be with someone better.”
The older Warriors cringed. “Ooh-kay,” Cleon mumbled. “Rembrandt, don’t hate me for asking this.”
“Cleon,” Cochise hissed.
“I actually need to know.”
“It’s your own rule you’re gonna break.”
“Stop,” Cleon said sharply. “Rembrandt, were you and Sly ever involved? Friendships aren’t a big deal but if you and another gang’s enforcer-”
“Oh my fucking God, no!” Rembrandt shrieked in indignation. She staggered to the center of the living room to face her warlord square on, eyes stinging from the effort of holding back tears, hollering past the lump in her throat. “Sly was my friend and that’s it! I never saw her as anything other than that and I don’t now! The only person I’ve ever wanted was Ajax!”
The door opened. Rembrandt jumped. She spun on her heel, stupidly allowing herself to believe that maybe Ajax didn’t mean it, maybe she followed her, maybe this wasn’t as brutally final as it felt and they could talk it out and start healing from everything-
But no. Instead, she saw Swan, Mercy, and Cowgirl standing in the doorway wearing the same bewildered expression, and her heart broke all over again. The awful reality crashed over her that… this was it.
They were over.
“Did we miss something?” Cowgirl asked slowly.
Mercy and Swan shared a look and went straight to Rembrandt, Swan resting a hand on her shoulder and Mercy cupping her cheek as Cochise explained, “Ajax swung on Sly at the meeting tonight.”
“You’ve gotta be joking,” Swan growled. “So we’re at war with the fucking Tombstones now?”
“No,” said Cleon, “it was resolved on-scene. Sly took the blame, both enforcers apologized. We narrowly avoided war.”
“And where’s Ajax?”
“At our apartment,” Rembrandt forced out, her voice hollow and dead.
Mercy tilted her chin up. Her brows were drawn low over her eyes, her gaze fiery and alight with a blooming anger that would have terrified Rembrandt if she had the energy to feel anything more than numb. “What happened?” she coaxed, her tone entirely at odds with her expression.
“We got into a fight.”
“About Sly?”
“About everything.”
Cowgirl frowned. “Are… Are you guys… breaking up?”
“I…” Rembrandt finally let the tears pour. “I think we did.”
Mercy pulled her into a bone-crushing hug. Rembrandt buried her face against her chest, gripping the back of her shirt to keep herself tethered as the taller woman tangled her fingers in her hair. She let her composure falter as painful sobs tore from her throat like broken glass. She felt Swan’s hand on the small of her back, rubbing slow, soothing circles beneath her jacket, whispering reassurances to drown out the muted conversation of the other Warriors behind her. She focused on Swan’s voice and the steady rhythm of Mercy’s breathing, anything to keep from spiraling, anything to drag her out of the pit she was falling deeper into every second, praying she could wake up from this horrible nightmare.
She didn’t know how long they let her cry before her sobs began to fade, not because she felt any better, but because she was too fucking exhausted to continue. Cradling Rembrandt’s face in both hands, Mercy cautiously pulled back just enough to meet her eyes. She offered a warm, comforting smile.
“Fuck that.”
Mercy was at the door before anyone realized she’d even moved. Swan made a startled sputtering sound before chasing after her girlfriend.
“Wait, Mercy, don’t!” Rembrandt called. “Just leave it, please!”
“No!” Mercy rounded on them, stabbing a finger in the vague direction of Rembrandt and Ajax’s apartment. “She’s not fucking doing this! If you guys don’t want to call her out on her bullshit, I will!”
“Mercy, don’t just-!” Swan turned back to Rembrandt. “Rem, I’ll handle it. Don’t worry. Mercy!”
The door slammed behind them. Rembrandt was dimly aware of Cowgirl’s arm around her, coaxing her back towards the couch. “I’m sure Swan will keep things civil,” she said, attempting to keep her tone light. It wasn’t convincing.
“If she doesn’t jump Ajax, too,” Cochise said under her breath.
Cleon pinched the bridge of her nose. “This is a fucking mess.”
“Rem, you okay?” Cowgirl tucked Rembrandt’s hair behind her ear. “You look like you’re gonna pass out.”
“I’m tired,” Rembrandt managed to whisper.
“Go to bed,” said Cleon. Rembrandt turned to look at her, her brain disconnected from her body, and Cleon pursed her lips in what Rembrandt assumed was meant to be a smile. “We’ll figure this out in the morning.”
“There’s no figuring this out.” Rembrandt shrugged Cowgirl off and headed towards the spare bedroom, casting no second glances at her crew. “Ajax wants space. She can fucking have it.”
She locked the door behind her. Dull moonlight shone through the window, outlining the room in vague silhouettes, a mattress on a short metal frame on one side and a tower of boxes and storage totes on the other. Rembrandt pushed her backpack unceremoniously off the bed and collapsed onto it. She didn’t bother taking off her jacket or her boots, immediately grabbing the single pillow and curling her body around it just so she had something to cling to.
The bed was frigid without another body in it. Rembrandt reached out, tangling her fingers in the sheets where Ajax should have been, imagining herself back in their bed with strong, safe arms wrapped around her.
Go be with someone better. You don’t need me anymore.
The dejected anger in Ajax’s eyes. The resignation. The resentment.
The love of her life, her ride or die since day one, the person who brought her into the Warriors, giving up on her in the blink of an eye. Like losing her was effortless.
the way that swan says "we both know that you're beautiful, you're more than beautiful" and mercy (someone who's a sex worker and who most likely constantly suffers a lot at the hands of the orphans) echoes the "more than beautiful" part like it's the first time someone told her that.
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I think it's so significant that when Ajax decides she's done running from the Furies, she doesn't frame it as self-sacrifice for a moment. She never suggests that the other Warriors should keep going without her, because the point is that she thinks they can /win./ Even though they're in a worse situation, objectively, than they are in Riverside Park, she tells them NOT to run.
But when she's decided to approach Barnes in the park, she tells them to go before she's even gone over to him. She didn't know he was a cop yet, but she's already saying they should go on without her. This was already something she wanted the other Warriors separated from. She's got the confidence to take on an entire gang on the assumption her crew has her back, but one man alone in a park has her saying I'll catch up if I can. Something something I don't think Ajax ever really expected to get out of that park.
my dearest headcanon is that ajax and mercy are actually really good friends, but almost no one is aware of this fact bc their mode of bonding is a competition for who can say the most awful thing. sometimes a friend who’s down for mutual verbal evisceration is important for enrichment, you know?
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