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There are five of them sequestered away in some room of District 13, just starting to put their heads together in a last-minute gathering of strategizing and planning. Wemmbu sits across from Parrot, seeming restless as he taps a claw against the table impatiently and his tail swishes behind him. Flame is slouching, busying himself with a weapon, looking like he’d rather be anywhere else. These are their power players… or, the majority of them. Parrot wishes Theo were at his side, but he’s doing some final, desperate training of the small army they’d gathered.
“Look at us all, what a team!” Spoke cheers, seeming the least affected amongst them by the idea of war. “We’ve got this in the bag! Sounds great, huh?” He’s been babbling about teamwork, about their separate strengths and the ways they can play each to their advantage. Something about the odds they face but the allies they can all rely on, and will need to in order to win.
It sounds like nonsense to Parrot. There Jumper sits, all unaffected and oblivious to how the shards of Paragon still dig into Parrot’s life and gut him whenever he breathes. Anger courses through his body, just as sharp in its intensity.
“Yeah,” Parrot shrugs, the movement quick and jolting. “Sure, if no one rolls over and shows their belly.”
Wemmbu raises an eyebrow. Spoke laughs, loud and a bit awkward, oblivious to any deeper meaning in the words. Flame doesn’t look up but his hand tightens on the sword he’s cleaning. The accusation rings sharp.
Jumper stiffens, eyes darting up. Parrot only catches a glance of her expression before his gaze angles away to stare entirely away from her direction.
She speaks over Spoke as he starts to answer, leaving his mouth hanging open at being fully bulldozed over. Her tone is carefully managed but the words rush out in a way that feels uncontrolled. “I think we’re all good on that, no?” Her gaze shifts around the table. “We’re all on the same side, and here to see it through.”
“Here to see it through,” Parrot echoes in a lilting tone, childishly mocking. It’s immature, and someone in the room barks out a laugh that’s eventually smothered behind a snort and a cough. He breathes out a slow breath and takes a deep one in, biting back the irritation that sparks behind his teeth. Chewing at the harmful words threatening to burst out. Truthfully, Parrot can’t do any of this alone, but still. Seeing Jumper here, it ignites something raw and painful that he can’t chase away. Something that brings up all the unpleasant memories he’s been doing his best not to process. He’s ignored it for too long and now it wells up, heavy and stinging.
Jumper’s eyes are still fixed on Parrot. She doesn’t speak. Just chews at her lip, expression entirely unreadable as she stares.
“Okay, well, we’ve gotta make a solid plan here guys!” Spoke bounces on the balls of his feet, all nervous energy that crackles through the air beside the growing tension.
Parrot doesn’t even try to disguise his eye roll, but focuses his attention on the others as they start to discuss– it’s all he can do to ignore Jumper’s presence in the room, and to truly attempt to work toward the important goal here.
It’s unfortunately not very effective when she has opinions and thoughts to share too. After a few more poorly-disguised digs, Parrot can feel everyone in the room growing irritated with him.
“What is your problem, Parrot?!” It’s Spoke that snarls the words, slamming an anxiously-glitching hand on the table and whirling to face him. “She’s on our side! I told you that!”
“Hah! You really think so, huh?!” Parrot’s voice rises at being so directly confronted, fury boiling up beneath the surface like a fire being poked. His wings flare, agitation spilling out further from beneath the surface. He’s acting foolish, emotional, temperamental– he can’t seem to force a lid down over all the things he wants to shout.
“No, yeah! Actually, let me think up a plan! Hmm, Jumper… let’s leave her back here. I bet she’d make a great guard.” A flash behind his eyes, the image of Jumper clad in netherite which looks heavier just from its stark white trims. It’s uncharacteristic, but every jab he lands seems to earn him a bit of vengeance for every way the past still makes him bleed. He’s acting like Theo, when anger overpowers his viewpoint and he seems to struggle to listen to anything else.
The comment hits a nerve. Jumper’s hands visibly shake for a moment before she snaps. “Parrot!” She shouts, standing with the slam of a chair tipping backward. “I’M HERE TO HELP. I swear! God! Just let me do that!”
Parrot rises too, just as suddenly, heaving a breath as his expression twists in a snarl. “Sure. Sure! And I can just trust that, huh?!”
“Yes! Yes, Parrot, you can! You need to. Because we ALL have a lot to lose here! I don’t have a choice, and you-” she gestures to him, all short and stabbing motions- “don’t have one either. We need to work together without tearing each other apart! Can you like, I don’t know, realize that?!”
Parrot’s mouth opens and closes for a moment. He stares like a prey animal cornered. Like he’s at a disadvantage, but frantic and so far out of options he’s become dangerous. It’s a familiar feeling. “Geez,” he finally settles on, voice darkening. “I don’t have a choice? Sounds familiar.”
“Don’t-” Jumper’s breath catches. She shakes her head. “Don’t be like that.”
“Like what.” Parrot’s voice is flat. His wings shake.
“Like–” she cuts herself off. “No. Actually, Parrot–”
“Hold on. I don’t need to listen to this. I don’t need to!” Parrot takes a step back from the table but Jumper flinches forward, eyes suddenly bleeding desperation. “Maybe I can do this myself, huh? My army doesn’t need you.”
“Parrot!” She yells, and he yells her name back, both clashing in their mess of ugly anger.
“Oh my god! Shut up!”
“I’m sorry!” She screams.
She leans forward, palms pressed flat against the table to help their shaking. Parrot doesn’t talk, doesn’t give any illusion of forgiveness. He lets the empty air speak for itself. Jumper’s expression twists.
“I’m sorry.” She repeats, her voice cracking. “I am so. So. Sorry. For everything I did to you. It was unforgivable.” She braces herself further, tensing her shoulders, steadying the trembles that wrack her body. “I didn’t have a choice. But that doesn’t mean it wasn’t horrible. I’ll never stop hating myself for it.”
“I know you hate me. And no, you don’t deserve to have to deal with me again. But all of us, every one of us, needs to work with the whole team. We can’t afford losing a single body for this battle ahead. The stakes are too high. And I will never expect your forgiveness, but at least I understand that.”
Do you? The question hangs unspoken in the air. Can you?
Awareness seems to strike Parrot suddenly as his brain stutters. Planning has paused. The other three are bunched up near one side of the room, having given up on the two during their argument. Spoke has done his best to carry it on, turned away and hunched over some paper he’s scribbling notes on. Flame looks like he’s sulking, but there’s an ever-present alertness to his posture. Wemmbu’s tipped back in his chair, seeming to be lazing around in boredom, but his brow is furrowed.
Parrot thinks he knows why. Parrot doesn’t hate, and when he does it’s saved for dangerous, malicious figures that threaten and kill and burn the server around them. His enemies bleed innocents dry and fight with walls of force and fear.
Parrot’s hatred is reserved for monsters. But here he is, hating Jumper. And it’s making everyone wary of both of them.
“You’re right, Jumper.” His voice is flat and calm, quiet enough to pause to hear better. Jumper watches him, cautious hope softening her miserable face. Parrot’s feathers tremble. “You’re right, saying that I’ll never forgive you. I hope you can’t sleep at night. Every time I close my eyes-”
He’d stepped forward, raised a finger to jab it toward her, but drops it now with a raw noise that he muffles with a hand over his mouth. He squeezes his eyes shut. He feels so truly alone as he stands there, shaking ever so slightly, pulling himself together as silence rings through his ears. No one moves closer. Parrot never reaches out.
Precisely ten seconds pass. He counts each one.
Parrot’s teeth press together and his hand falls. He feels solid again, at least for now, feels at least like he can maintain the appearance of it. “I don’t trust you, Jumper.” But you’re valuable here. “Not an inch.” But I can’t do this alone. “But… for this, I’ll work with you. Fine.” I miss you.
“...Okay,” she accepts, reels herself back and nods sharply, her vulnerable expression closing up. “Good. Thank you.” It's all she had asked for. It feels final. It feels serious and somber, and so distant compared to how close they used to be.
Her apology repeats itself in Parrot’s mind as he follows her gaze to the other three, finally feeling like his anger toward Jumper has burnt itself out. It’s run out of fuel, choked by the lack of it, and maybe it’ll roar up again in a week, but for now he has a battle to focus on.
He rounds the table to approach them and see what progress Spoke has put down on his paper, ready to continue their plans. It brings him close to Jumper and as he passes by he feels an ache yawn open in place of his rage. His hands shake, just as hers had, as he reaches out on impulse and pulls her into a hug.
His hands bunch up in her sweater as he clings to her, feeling for the first time like she’s a lifeline rather than a threat. She squeezes him back instantly, her hold impossibly tight like this is the only thing keeping her afloat.
She’s gone through so much, too. She’s a kindred spirit more than an enemy, and maybe Parrot– eventually, with the distance of time– will be able to better accept that.
He hopes for it, that one day he can forgive her.