@neerdowellnarrator sorry to snoop but, I have something along those veins? I caved so here is the other half of the unfinished wip—the part where LJ3 are arguing over the what they're gonna do about The Name. It's in a state rn, but I thought it was kinda fun and melodramatic and at least kiiindda matched both prompts?
“It’s not going to work…”
Ellie doesn’t know how long they’ve been lying there, the springs from her mattress digging into her sides, but it’s not until she can hear Blue’s quiet snores that she braves herself to speak.
“Hm?” says J3, half asleep, shifting so that his chin rests on her shoulder. “Wha’s’at?” He stifles a yawn, a sound that Ellie finds precious despite herself. Despite everything.
She takes J3’s arms wrapped around her waist and holds them tighter to her person—her last indulgence since their break. She can’t help herself. It’s one thing to give up sex, it’s another to give up her one fool-proof trick for a full night’s sleep free of nightmares.
She’s always told herself that when she broke her rules, it was for a good reason. But she knows it’s bullshit.
She just doesn’t want to give up her last good thing.
But this time, she needs the comfort. When she thinks about what comes monday—the student president election, it’s like her brain just—stops. Their whole miserable half-lives have led up to this. Life in Jaceprime’s basement has been hell on earth, but at least there was ritual in the mundanity. At least she knows who she is when she’s resisting captivity.
What happens when the God of War gets exactly what he wants? What happens when he doesn’t?
Maybe she doesn’t have to tell him how she feels. Maybe they really are matching spares. Maybe, just maybe, he can just feel her tremble, and that is why he gives her hand a reassuring squeeze.
“The, uh… The ritual. It’s not going to work.” Ellie’s always thought of herself as someone who was unafraid to speak her mind. Hell, she’s gotten into shouting matches with the guy who locks them in the basement every night. So why is she so afraid to speak? “The—The name is wrong, J3.”
The quiet is painfully long. Finally, he says, “Are you sure?”
She expects more questions, maybe pushback. Instead, he says, “Okay. I believe you.” A beat. “Does Porter—”
“No. Not yet, at least. But when he does—”
The sound of shifting blankets from across the room, and she can feel J3 stiffen beside her. She, too, has gone completely still.
What do you think he’ll do?
J3’s voice in her head when the rustling stops. A Message.
Well… says Ellie, If he doesn’t smash us to bits—send in the Ratgrinders on the cloudrider, I guess. So close to the deadline, the attack on Seacaster Manor is our only chance to get it.
And he’ll probably send Boss in to supervise.
You still have that ring I gave you, right?
Ellie touches her Ring of Disguise Self, turns the band around on her finger—a reflex. She can feel her cheeks flush, and she’s grateful to be turned away from him. Even though she’s mad at him, she can’t bring herself to give it back. “Yes. I—of course I do.”
What are you thinking? asks Ellie.
I’m thinking… You should volunteer for the cloudrider mission.
“What?” says Ellie, too loud. She hears a quiet, disgruntled mmph from Blue, and the creak of a mattress. More quietly, she tries again. “What? Why?”
‘Cause I’m gonna take your place.
Ellie jerks around to face him. She’s been trying to keep her cool all evening, but she can’t. It’s no use. It’s not who she is.
“No!” cries Ellie, and J3 shushes her, glancing over at Blue’s bed. Thankfully, the curtains are still closed, but she doesn’t care. She opens her mouth, intent on giving him a piece of her mind, but—
There’s something so resolute in his expression that she forgets to breathe.
He has the audacity to smile at her. Like they’re having a slumber party, exchanging secrets late into the night. Instead of plotting treason. El. Think about it. They’ll never know the difference.
“You’re insane.” Ellie sits up. You can’t do that for me, J3. Besides. Boss’ll never believe it. He’ll know something is up immediately. She hesitates. She’s disgusted with herself for even entertaining the idea; disgusted that a part of her is moved. But it’ll never work—not when she’s J4. She’s not the precious gift, or the shiny toy, she’s the mistake. “You know me, I’m—I’m whiny and stubborn, and—”
J3 follows her. The blanket falls to the floor. His eyes are wide, animated—he’s speaking with a fervor she’s never seen from him before. He takes her face in his hands—Which is why we’ll—I’ll— convince him that it was his idea. Like, it’s, I dunno—a punishment.
C’mon, El. He’s still smiling. Like this is some sort of game. You know I can do it.
A beat. How does she tell him that that’s exactly what she’s afraid of?
You can’t deny it, El. You know they’ll both be preoccupied during election night. It’s the perfect window.
A beat. The thing is—he’s right. They both know it.
And it might be your last chance, before—
“Yeah. I know it’s not all that, but we don’t have that much time, alright? I figured we could at least try… y’know?”
“No, J3. ‘No’ As in. I can’t ask you to do this for me.”
You didn’t have to, El. You—You deserve a real shot out there, you get that, right?
Ellie’s heart is hammering in her chest. Talking to J3 has always been hard enough when he’s flirting, cracking jokes, doing what he always does. She didn’t realize how much worse it was to talk to him when he’s being sincere.
He really believes in her, doesn’t he? He always has.
J3 is still cradling her face in his hands.
Stupidly, Ellie yearns for him to lean down and kiss her—when that should be the last thing on her mind. Instead, she murmurs—“But what about when he finds out the truth, J3? What then?”
The corner of his mouth tugs in a small smile—bewitching and infuriating.
Well. You’ll be long gone by then.
“Don’t be stupid!” says Ellie, wrenching away from him. I’m not leaving you.
The utter confusion in his expression could break her heart. She knows who to blame here. Knows that He is the reason J3 is the way he is. Knows she can’t just cut and run like J3 wants. Come Ascension day, she’s going to take the Big Guy’s maul and drive it straight into His face.
“What do you mean ‘why’? You know why!”
Ellie hates feeling this way. She wants to tell J3 that she is not like Him, she will never be like Him. Wants to tell him that he’s never been a spare, that she would never, ever, use him as a shield. Wants to tell him the truth about her plan, that she’s not going anywhere—at least without taking the Big Guy down with her. Wants to tell him that she can’t go alone—that she can’t see a future without him.
She wants to tell him that she loves him.
J3 is the first to break the silence. “Why won’t you just let me do this for you? I’m dead either way, at least this way—”
“Will you quit talking like that? What I wanna know—is why you’re so insistent on this. You know full well I can’t go anywhere. Not without being Dispelled.”
“I cut a deal with Him, ok? With, ah, the Big Guy.”
J3 is avoiding her gaze. “He knows the name is busted, he found out yesterday. And so I—I made the terms. I get him the name, he becomes a god. You get True Life, and you’ll be gone before Jace knows anything.”
She can feel herself blinking back tears—whether they stem from hurt or anger, she does not know. “How could you do this? You’re working with Him?”
“What do you want me to say, El?”
“Well, I’m not a hero, ok! Not like you. At least this way, everyone gets what they want.”
“Everyone? J3, are you serious?”
What about what you want?
“All I know is that—I want you to get out, ok? You deserve to live your life, El. I dunno. Out of all the things I’ve ever wanted, I think that’s the only one that's ever meant anything at all.”
Ellie is shaking—she’s still refusing to cry, refusing to wrangle with the cataclysm of pain and longing and grief that threaten to overwhelm her—which is why she’s running on pure fury and disgust and betrayal when she reaches for him, unsure what she’ll do until she’s grappling him by the shoulders and pinning him to the mattress. J3 struggles against her, but Ellie doesn’t let up. For once, it’s not a game, and he is not getting out of it with a pout and a brat routine. She grabs the butterfly knife under her pillow and holds it to his throat.
He smirks. “See you kept the gift.”
“Shut up,” she growls. She presses the blade further into his skin, watching as his neck flushes red, following the trickle of a single drop of blood.
“There’s not going to be a deal, you get that? I’m going to kill Him. Whatever it takes. Don’t try to stop me. And don’t get in my way.”
J3’s mouth parts—Ellie watches his chest rise and fall as he just breathes, staring up at her.
He’s looking at her with so much trust that she aches. Ellie can hear the knife clatter to the floor before she even realizes what she’s done. That she’s let go. She leans forward, speaking softly into his ear.
“J3. I swear—if you even think about taking the fall for me, I’ll—” She has to think quick. Something that a long rest won’t heal. Something that will stick—a blemish on that perfect face of his, hers, theirs, Jace’s—so that Boss will never get them mixed up ever again—
Her hand curls around his throat. “I’ll break your fucking nose.”
He's not going to destroy himself for her. She’s never letting anything happen to him ever again.
