"I don't know. Probably. Maybe I'd just like to think so. But... She told me that one of the people back home, the people that thought she was a monster... said that the world in which she's helping is better than one where she's dead."
Darcy finally sits herself in one of the chairs, leaning forward with her elbows on her knees.
"I hadn't thought about it like that, not until she said it. And I think it counts for a lot that she was at least honest about it."
"It does," he agrees quietly. There's a momentary pang of envy at the thought of being able to disclose something like that, to be that upfront about it. It fades quickly, but it leaves a gnarled tangle of regret behind.
But she knows which answer he'd give, and he suspects this isn't supposed to be a conversation. He'd gotten to say his piece the last time they talked, and she has to know what his opinion here would be.
"...If you're not going to say anything, then I'm just going with my answer. Erin Peters lives."
And so does he. Darcy stands. Disappointed, again. Probably still. But Erin's words in their sweet lilt echo in her again.
"Have you always been this chickenshit and I just never noticed? I actually miss when we used to be constantly fighting about things, at least then I had some actual evidence you gave a shit."
He tries to laugh, but it falls short of the definition. "I've been a coward for a century and a half. I thought it was obvious in the way I've continuously failed you to protect myself."
He bows his head. "I think you would have liked me better before I went in the river. I was a lot braver back then."
Darcy rolls her eyes and restrains the reflex she always has to try and soothe his ego.
"I don't know you before the river, I know the you that's here now, who's continuing to refuse to do absolutely fucking anything to actually fix shit or change. You know you have to actually stop doing the thing when you apologise, right?"
Darcy makes her way over to the door, gripping hard on the outside handle.
"Everyone fucking sucks, Skulduggery. I've picked fights with half the fucking ship. I straight up murdered Steven. I killed people back home, too. But some of us aren't sitting around feeling fucking sorry for ourselves because we're shitty people, some of us are actually trying to do good. Like Erin, and like me. I fucking expect better from you, even if you don't."
He almost goes after her. He wants to go after her. The strange length in the shadows, the way his head swims with sudden vertigo... it is almost enough to overwhelm him.
But it isn't enough to drown out the thought that none of it will ever be enough, or the rage that comes after. Skulduggery throws a hand out and the empty chair crashes against the door. It won't repair itself, nothing is fucking repairing itself, this whole fucking ship is falling apart and he can't fix any of it!
Darcy thinks he isn't doing anything. Maybe she's right. But for now, doing nothing will keep her safe. It's the only thing keeping anyone safe.
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Darcy finally sits herself in one of the chairs, leaning forward with her elbows on her knees.
"I hadn't thought about it like that, not until she said it. And I think it counts for a lot that she was at least honest about it."
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But she knows which answer he'd give, and he suspects this isn't supposed to be a conversation. He'd gotten to say his piece the last time they talked, and she has to know what his opinion here would be.
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And so does he. Darcy stands. Disappointed, again. Probably still. But Erin's words in their sweet lilt echo in her again.
"Have you always been this chickenshit and I just never noticed? I actually miss when we used to be constantly fighting about things, at least then I had some actual evidence you gave a shit."
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He bows his head. "I think you would have liked me better before I went in the river. I was a lot braver back then."
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"I don't know you before the river, I know the you that's here now, who's continuing to refuse to do absolutely fucking anything to actually fix shit or change. You know you have to actually stop doing the thing when you apologise, right?"
Darcy makes her way over to the door, gripping hard on the outside handle.
"Everyone fucking sucks, Skulduggery. I've picked fights with half the fucking ship. I straight up murdered Steven. I killed people back home, too. But some of us aren't sitting around feeling fucking sorry for ourselves because we're shitty people, some of us are actually trying to do good. Like Erin, and like me. I fucking expect better from you, even if you don't."
And she slams the door shut.
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But it isn't enough to drown out the thought that none of it will ever be enough, or the rage that comes after. Skulduggery throws a hand out and the empty chair crashes against the door. It won't repair itself, nothing is fucking repairing itself, this whole fucking ship is falling apart and he can't fix any of it!
Darcy thinks he isn't doing anything. Maybe she's right. But for now, doing nothing will keep her safe. It's the only thing keeping anyone safe.