And I'll Lie Here Forever // [Scorpion's Last]

The last blow bleeds her dry, a last gush in a process that's taken almost a month. She crumbles, folding into herself, and it's Elmo who lays her gently on the field. "I gotta, I gotta, I gotta -" she keeps saying, keeps trying, while he attempts to right the wrong done to her.

Except he's far too late and she knows it. She's known it from the moment the Peacekeepers disconnected the morphling line. There is only so much one body can take. A moon ago, she'd given her body to a tiny version of herself.

"Stop," she beseeches him. Scorpion makes a feeble attempt to swat him away but it's no longer playful. Her movements are slow, jerky. The pain makes the edges of her vision soft, makes it easy to focus on only him - which is all she's wanted, all damn day.

She waits until she is sure he is done trying to save her. Then, she folds her hands protectively over her belly. "Listen. I gotta tell you something. You and I, we - " she hisses in pain.

When she next speaks, it is in a rush: "what I'm trying to say is: you have a baby, Baby. At least, probably she's yours. You can tell me some day, after you've gone home and met her. Tell her -" her voice cracks. Her face contorts in fury. Anger and regret coincidence, two toxic chemicals creating a maelstorm, all directed at: herself, the war, the circumstances of her death. Heat blooms in her, one last time, giving her a burst of strength.

Her voice steadies. "Tell her I gave her the best chance I could. And that's what I'm doing for you, Elmo. Now get outta here."

She reaches up with her good hand to shove him away but instead her fingers find the back of his head. She draws him close, so close she can taste the sweat on his upper lip, feel the grief in every breath. Scorpion lifts her chin, loosens her jaw.

She dies with the promise of a lover's kiss on her lips.