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If you had told Sasha ahead of time that the day was going to end like this – with her faceplanting on Anne’s couch in nothing but her bra and a pair of Anne’s shorts – she wouldn’t have believed you.
The plan is to spend the weekend together: hanging out, catching up, and celebrating Anne’s birthday. They’re starting off with an easy night since Anne just finished up a full day at work. A simple dinner at Anne’s apartment, where Marcy will be staying during her visit, and then Sasha will come back in the morning so they can really kick off their weekend.
At least, that’s what Sasha was hoping would happen.
Instead, her back twinges as they’re walking down the hallway in Anne’s apartment building, hard enough that she has to pause for a second. She curses under her breath, putting one hand on the wall to keep herself steady.
She really doesn’t need this right now, for this old injury to rear its head again and ruin the night, especially during the first reunion she’s had with Marcy in a long time. But now that she’s thinking about it, she can vaguely recall a couple of warning signs throughout the day of another chronic pain flare-up, ones that she hadn’t really given a second thought to in all the commotion.
“Sasha? You coming?”
Marcy’s voice snaps her out of her thoughts, and she realizes her friends are now staring back at her from a doorway at the other end of the hall.
“Yeah, of course,” she calls, pushing past the discomfort and moving towards them, intending to ignore it completely. She just needs to get through dinner and the drive home, then she can knock back some painkillers and do her PT stretches in private and pretend nothing happened when she sees the girls again tomorrow.
Anne’s apartment is nice, and a lot neater than Sasha has been expecting. She wonders if Anne had grown out of her tendency to just let clutter build up everywhere around her, or if the frequent visits from Mrs. Boonchuy that Anne mentioned earlier have more to do with it.
In her excitement to get further inside, Marcy nearly trips over her sneakers as they all leave their shoes by the door. “Wow, Anne, your place is so cool!” she exclaims. “I love all your pictures! Ooh, what are all these?”
There’s a low wall full of statues and figures dividing the kitchen from the living room, but while Anne launches into the explanation of what they all are to Marcy, Sasha’s eye catches on a collage of photos hanging on the wall. They all look to be from around the same period of time, and while there’s some she recognizes – like the group picture from the Battle of the Bands in Wartwood – there’s a lot that she doesn’t.
Most of these are different variations of the Plantars and the Boonchuys together, and Sasha realizes they must be from the time Anne and the Plantars had spent on Earth before they could figure out a way back to Amphibia. Sasha chuckles at a particular one of the Plantars, Anne, and her mom all in mid-motion, turning towards the camera-holder, clearly unaware of the photo about to be taken.
That period of time and all that had happened on her end was something that Anne never really got a chance to talk about with her and Marcy, not after all the chaos that had come about during the war, and especially not after the grief that had overcome Anne after the three of them returned home. Sasha makes a mental note to ask her about the pictures at some point, hoping that will change soon.
While she and Marcy are distracted looking around, Anne slips into her room to change out of her work uniform and into some comfier clothes. When she comes back out, she puts the food she had prepared the day before into the oven to heat up.
It’s when they sit down at the table to eat that Sasha’s pain level goes from an ‘Oh, maybe I should do something about this’ to a ‘Too late now, bitch. Suffer the consequences.’
The sharp spike of pain causes her hand to spasm, and she drops the fork she’s holding onto the table with an embarrassingly loud clatter.
Anne and Marcy both startle, and she tries to brush it off quickly with a laugh she doesn’t feel. “Sorry. Looks like you aren’t the only clumsy one today, Marce.”
Marcy laughs along, but Anne eyes her a little closer than Sasha would like. She picks her fork back up, but her stomach’s twisted itself up with the discomfort now, appetite abandoning her. All she can do is take a few bites and then regretfully push the rest of the delicious meal around on her plate, expending the rest of her focus on trying to follow the conversation.
Marcy’s talking about her webcomic again, she thinks, but then she blinks and Anne’s suddenly telling them about some of the funniest things she’s overheard from visitors at the aquarium. The pain continues to mount, and Sasha just can’t keep up.
She hopes they can’t see the way her teeth are gritting, the sweat she can feel building up on her forehead.
It’s been a while since she’s had a pain spike this bad. She reaches around to try to rub her lower back, hoping the stimulation will help relieve the ache at least a little. Except the attempt to sit up makes her back twinge even harder, and she has to bite her lip to keep from crying out.
She knows she won’t be able to keep up this façade for much longer. Her eyes cast around the apartment, looking for an escape, but she’s not entirely sure where the bathroom is, and she doesn’t want to just barge into Anne’s bedroom for seemingly no reason. Her gaze lands on the floor-to-ceiling glass door and window off the living room, half-covered by a curtain. That’ll do.
“Hey, Anne, can I go out on your balcony for a sec? I need some air.”
“Oh, uh, sure?” It’s the first time Sasha’s spoken in who knows how long, and Anne blinks at the question. Her eyes once again probe Sasha’s. “Are you okay?”
“Totally,” Sasha breathes out, hoping her voice doesn’t sound as pinched as she thinks it does. “I just need a minute.”
She stands up before either of them can ask any follow-up questions, the motion bringing another wave of agony. She quickly turns and moves over to the door, keeping her face hidden. She can’t quite straighten up her posture the full way, the ache causing her shoulders to hunch forward and her hands to clench.
She slides the glass door shut behind her when she makes it outside, moving to the side the curtain’s on in an attempt to keep from being seen. She takes a deep breath, focusing on unclenching her jaw and letting her arms and shoulders relax as the latest muscle spasm finally passes.
She can handle this; it’s nothing new, although she’s kicking herself for not thinking to bring any painkillers with her today, just in case. But she just needs a minute to compose herself, then she’ll go back in and pretend everything is fine, because Marcy and Anne are so happy right now and there’s no way Sasha’s going to let this ruin that.
But when she takes another deep breath, her back seizes up again, and all she can do is catch herself on the railing in front of her and squeeze the metal like her life depends on it. She grits her teeth in frustration, cursing loudly. Hopefully, none of Anne’s neighbors can see her (or hear her, for that matter) right now.
“Sasha?”
She’s so in her head that she completely misses the sound of the door and the voice calling out behind her. She nearly jumps out of her skin when she feels a hand on her shoulder.
“Whoa, sorry!” It’s just Anne – of course it’s just Anne; they’re in a safe place – both hands suddenly splayed out in front of her to show she means no harm.
Sasha winces. “Sorry, sorry. Guess I’m a little jumpy.”
Anne shakes her head. “No, no, that was totally my bad. I just wanted to make sure you were okay.”
Anne’s look of concern is the same as Sasha remembers from when they were kids, and it kind of makes her want to cry, because even when so much has changed, some things always stay the same. She has to look away, letting out a puff of air to blow the hair out of her face. “I’m fine. You can go back inside. I’ll just be another minute.”
But she’s still bent over, white-knuckling the railing, and Anne clearly doesn’t buy it for a second.
“Sash, c’mon. I know something’s up. What’s going on?”
Anne reaches out again, waiting for Sasha to nod in permission before touching her shoulder this time. Sasha leans into it, and her resolve crumbles as quickly as that.
“Back’s acting up a little,” she sighs. “We drove around a lot after I picked Marcy up at the airport, and I must have been slouching more than I realized. I’m usually pretty good about stretching it out when I can feel it getting tight, but I guess I didn’t notice in all the excitement today. It didn’t really start hurting until we got here, but I didn’t want to say anything and upset you guys, you know?” Her voice cracks, the next part a whisper. “I just got you back. I didn’t want to ruin it.”
“Hey,” Anne says gently, thumb rubbing soothingly over Sasha’s shoulder. “You’re not ruining anything, and I’m not upset. Well, I mean, I am upset that you’re hurting, but that’s not your fault. Is there anything I can get you to help?”
“Do you have any painkillers? And something I could use as a warm compress? That always helps when it gets tight like this.”
“I got you.” Anne holds out her arm for Sasha to take. “Now c’mon, let’s get you back inside and all fixed up.”
Sasha accepts the support, letting Anne lead the way.
She’s relieved to see that her plate is the only one with food left on it at the table – at least she hadn’t kept them from finishing their dinner. Marcy’s still sitting, but her eyes are trained worriedly on Sasha.
“Hey, Marbles, can you go into the closet in the bathroom? Second shelf from the bottom, there should be some ibuprofen and a heating pad. Grab the cover and the felt compress pad thingy with it too. Sash needs a little TLC.”
Marcy nods, not even blinking at the request, and gets up to do just that. Anne leads Sasha over to the couch before seeming to double-think it. “Would laying down in a bed be better or is this okay?”
Sasha sits down heavily. “This is fine, seriously. Your couch is way more comfortable than mine.” She kicks out her legs, or at least tries to. “Kinda regretting my choice in skirt right now though.”
“I can get you something else to wear,” Anne promises, already moving towards her room. “Shorts good? I know you get hot pretty easy.”
Sasha gives her a thumbs up, and then laughs as Anne, walking backward, nearly collides with Marcy coming back from the hallway.
It doesn’t faze Marcy in the slightest. “Found them!” she exclaims, holding up the items triumphantly. She hands the pill bottle and the heating pad in its cover to Sasha, then takes the compress over to the sink. “Let me get you a glass of water too. Is this like a stomach thing? You didn’t eat that much, and I know it’s probably not because you suddenly hate Anne’s cooking, because let me tell you, she’s only improved over the years.”
Sasha squeezes her eyes shut for a moment. Better to just bite the bullet, no matter how much she doesn’t want to. Telling Anne was one thing, but Marcy is a whole nother.
“Not a stomach thing,” she admits quietly. “My back’s giving me some trouble again.”
“Oh.”
It’s said so quietly, and even from across the room, Sasha doesn’t miss the way Marcy’s face suddenly crumbles. It’s gone a second later, however, and Marcy hurries back over with the glass of water and the wet piece of felt. She lets Sasha take the water and busies her hands by plugging the heating pad in, slipping the compress into the cover, and turning it on to the middle setting.
“I’m sorry, Sash–” Marcy starts to say, but Sasha panics as soon as the words have left her mouth.
She cuts Marcy off, unable to bear hearing Marcy apologize for this again. “Please don’t say you’re sorry. It was never your fault.”
They’ve talked about this before, of course they have. Anne and Sasha had filled Marcy in on everything she had missed while she was under control of the Core, including the details of what (admittedly little) they knew the Core had done using her body. Marcy had been devastated to learn that Sasha’s and Grime’s injuries during the final battle had been the Core’s doing. And although everyone had insisted that it wasn’t Marcy’s fault, Sasha knows she still struggles with the guilt.
Marcy’s eyes go wide, her hands increasing their fidgeting, while the rest of her body goes still. “Oh! Yeah, no, um. I meant ‘sorry’ in like, a ‘that sucks’ kind of way, not like– you know. I know it wasn’t– um, I mean– I–”
“Breathe,” Sasha instructs, realizing her mistake, and hoping to prevent a full-blown panic attack. She tries to reach out, but her back muscles pull again, and she has to use her hand to brace herself on the arm of the couch instead.
Anne comes back right as Marcy inhales deeply, giving them both a watery smile and wiping away the tears that had sprung up in her eyes. “Let’s get you feeling a little better,” she tells Sasha, “Then we’ll talk, okay?”
Sasha nods, taking the pair of basketball shorts Anne hands her, feeling the odd mix of guilt and embarrassment and too many other emotions to name crash over her. But the pain makes itself known again when she stands back up, and it drowns out everything else.
They turn their backs to give her some privacy as she slips out of her skirt and into the shorts. Anne passes two pills over when she’s ready, and then picks up the warmed-up heating pad, holding it out questioningly.
“What’s the best way to do this? Shirt off?”
Blood rushes to Sasha’s cheeks, and she nearly chokes on the water she’s sipping to swallow back the pills. “Yeah,” she admits once her mouth is empty. “And then could you just, um, slide it under my bra? That’s always what I do so it’s not, you know, in the way.”
Sasha pulls her shirt over her head without further ado, before she can get any more embarrassed about it. She lays down, stretching out on her stomach. Marcy passes a pillow over, and she folds her arms up underneath it, letting her face sink into it for a minute before she needs to come up for air.
There’s no reaction from either Anne or Marcy as they take in her almost-bare back, just Anne gently lifting the back of her bra and placing the heating pad on her skin, followed by a blanket a few seconds later. Sasha has almost forgotten how nice it is to have people who already know about her injury and the massive scar that came with it, to not be surprised when they see it. It’s a relief if she’s being honest. It makes her almost forget why she was so worried about telling them it was hurting in the first place.
But then Marcy slides down to the floor in front of the couch, pulling her knees up to her chest, her face awash in guilt, and Sasha remembers.
She makes eye contact with Anne, silently begging her to give them a moment. And just like old times, Anne bobs her head in acknowledgment, clearly understanding. She clears her throat. “I’ll put the rest of your food in the fridge in case you get hungry later. I really don’t want you driving home like this, so you’re welcome to stay here with us for the night. Is there anything in your car that you need? I can go grab it.”
“Actually, yeah,” Sasha replies, touched at how gentle Anne’s being. “There’s an overnight bag I keep for emergencies in my trunk if you really don’t mind getting it.”
Anne finger-guns in confirmation, then bends down to pat Marcy on the shoulder. “I’ll be right back.”
“The keys are in my jacket!” Sasha calls after her. She turns her full attention back to Marcy, whose gaze is still trained firmly on her bent knees as she picks at a loose thread on her pants with a fingernail.
Sasha wracks her brain for the right thing to start off with, but Marcy beats her to the punch. “Does this… still happen often?” she asks quietly. “You haven’t really said anything about it in a long time. I guess I was hoping it had gotten better for you.”
Sasha props her head up with one arm, holding out her other hand, in case Marcy wants to take it. It’s a relief when she does, and she smiles encouragingly. “It has gotten better. It can still bother me sometimes, especially when the weather changes suddenly, or on days like today when I haven’t been as mindful of my posture. But it’s nowhere near as bad as it used to be, I promise.”
Marcy stays quiet for a few minutes, still picking at the thread with the hand that isn’t clutching tightly at Sasha’s.
Sasha breaks the silence. “What about you? Do you still have a lot of bad pain days?”
Marcy shrugs, the thread finally snapping off and drifting down to the floor. “Yes and no. It’s kind of like you said, although it’s my chest that usually hurts the most.” Her free hand comes up to rub at the spot unconsciously and Sasha squeezes her fingers in support. “All of the physical therapy really helped. My legs don’t give out on me all of the sudden anymore, at least not as much. My hands can still get pretty shaky on the bad days though, and I can’t draw or really do much with them when it happens.”
Sasha cracks a smile. “Look at us cool kids in our chronic pain club,” she jokes.
It makes Marcy chuckle wetly, so she takes it as a win. “Does that mean Anne isn’t cool?”
“Oh, definitely. Anne’s never been cool.”
Neither one of them notice Anne’s return until she speaks. “Wow. I was gone for five minutes and you’re already on the insults, huh?”
Sasha smirks up at her. “You heard me, Boonchuy. I speak only the truth.”
“Ha ha,” Anne deadpans, putting Sasha’s bag and keys down on the coffee table.
Sasha nods in thanks. Now she has a change of clothes she can wear tomorrow, and a toothbrush if she can summon the energy to get off this couch again long enough to use it. Maybe later.
Anne nudges Marcy with one foot. “Room for one more?”
“Always,” Marcy replies, scooting over to give Anne some space on the carpet, taking Sasha’s arm with her, although she’s not complaining about it.
Anne sits down, resting her back against the coffee table. She smiles at their joined hands and places hers on top of the pile. Her smile morphs into a full-on grin when Marcy leans over to rest her head on her shoulder, but it quickly shifts into a jaw-cracking yawn.
It sets off a chain reaction, first Sasha, then Marcy, which in turn sets them all off laughing.
“Oops,” Anne giggles, bringing a hand up to cover her mouth as she yawns again. “Sorry, it’s been a long week at work.”
That makes Marcy lift her head back up. “Do you want to go to bed? I can keep Sasha company for a while. Don’t worry about us.”
Anne shakes her head quickly, her voice soft. “I think I want to stay like this for a little while longer, if that’s okay. I’ve missed you guys so much.”
“You better not make me cry again, Boonchuy,” Sasha says, already sniffling. “I’ve had enough of that for one day.”
“Not sorry,” Anne laughs, her thumb rubbing the back of Marcy’s hand. “It’s true.”
“I’m so glad we’re all together again,” Marcy sighs.
“This isn’t quite how I pictured it going,” Sasha laughs, “but me too.”
They fall quiet after that, just enjoying each other’s presence. The heat feels great on Sasha’s back, and she can tell the painkillers are starting to kick in. Anne’s eyes are already drifting shut, and Sasha isn’t surprised when she falls asleep a few minutes later, head resting on top of Marcy’s.
She has to resist the overwhelming urge to laugh when Marcy follows suit not long after. Talk about staying up to keep her company. But she’ll cut them both some slack. It’s been a very emotional day for everyone.
So, she gives in too, letting her head fall back onto the pillow, and closes her eyes.
Her hand is warm in Anne and Marcy’s, and back pain and all, she feels more content than she has in a long, long time.