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At his core, Sunday is not weak. He is not some fragile thing that needs to be protected. A flightless bird he may be, but he is not weak. He tells himself this as he gazes into the mirror—a pair of eyes staring back at him, a face he doesn’t recognize anymore.
Autonomy—he’s regained it. Some semblance of it, at least. Gallagher has made amends for his wrongdoings but… can he truly be forgiven? There’s no excusing what he did.
Is Sunday trapping himself in the cycle of abuse yet again? Has he found a new cage?
No, no… it’s more like… another cage has enclosed the preexisting one. Gopher Wood’s hold on him is still so tight. He thinks of the cold conversation that night with Gallagher.
Gallagher had told him that Gopher Wood deserved to suffer for what he’d done to Sunday—and Robin too—all these years, and that Gallagher would gladly do the job himself but… in the end, Sunday had said something far from the truth.
That Gopher Wood was still his father. Never was. Merely a wicked caricature of what a father really is. A real father loves unconditionally and protects his children. Provides for them not because he has to, but because he loves them.
Gopher Wood’s “love” is not love. It is a prison. It is torture. It is control . It is possession .
Sunday doesn’t trust easy. Not that such an idea is any surprise given his far from normal upbringing.
Yet… he trusts Gallagher. Gallagher, fictional as he may be, is more honest and compassionate than any man Sunday’s ever known. But even a man like that can… can hurt Sunday. Has hurt him.
Sunday recognizes himself taking form in the mirror. Resists the urge to pluck a feather or two to take the edge off.
There is one thing Gallagher can do to demonstrate his trustworthiness. To display his undying devotion and redeem himself.
Gallagher is ready to pull the trigger. All he needs is Sunday to load the gun and cock it.
“Gallagher,” Sunday says quietly, turning away from the mirror to face the man sitting on the edge of the bed. “I’ll allow it.”
“Mm?” Gallagher tilts his head aside, not sure he’s really understanding. “You…”
“I want you to… I want you to kill my father.”
Crimson eyes widen, deep like a sea of blood. Even if he’d spoken those words, the thought of actually killing someone has him feeling guilty in advance. Even if such a cruel being deserves the punishment… can Gallagher really justify taking a life? He’s not the man many people take him to be. Not cruel or vicious.
Still, he is a bloodhound. His fangs are sharp and ready.
Gallagher nods, resolute. “Okay. I’ll do it.”
“I ask for one thing,” Sunday says, closing the distance between them and taking Gallagher’s hand. “Do not make him suffer. I want it to be quick and merciful.”
It’s more than he deserves, but Gallagher wouldn’t dare insist such a thing. “You have my word .”
Killing Gopher Wood will not prove to be easy. He has eyes everywhere. Probably already knows of this plot. Will anticipate it.
Gallagher could easily die in the process.
“Thank you,” Sunday says, a sorrow in his eyes that has been cultivated for fifteen harrowing years.” “Thank you for… loving me … unlovable as I am.”
Gallagher sighs, raising a hand to caress Sunday’s cheek. “Oh, birdie… you were never unlovable.” He squeezes the hand he still holds in his own. “I want to make something clear before I do this.” Sunday nods. “This will not be my redemption.”
Sunday’s wings droop. “What? But why—”
“I’m a sinner who cannot be redeemed, Sunday. And there’s a plan I’ve cultivated with a friend of mine for years . My time’s almost up. It’ll seem that I’ll betray you, but in the end you’ll understand… hehe, I hope , at least. My foresight says that I won’t be the one to kill Gopher Wood, but he won’t kill me. He can’t kill me, y’know.”
Sunday all but trembles, incredulous. “Gallagher, what are you saying?”
“When the time comes, I will kill… well, I’ll kill a lot of people. Your father won’t be one of them, unfortunately. But in the end, he will get his comeuppance, though not by my hands.” He laughs, casting his gaze aside to the window, where a dark bird sits before noticing him and taking flight. “Bastard…” He looks back at Sunday. “But I will try, and the fruits of my labor will bring about his downfall.”
Sunday clings to Gallagher like a lifeline. He can’t afford to lose, and all that Gallagher is saying is starting to sound like a goodbye. A farewell. A departure. “Gallagher, I—what are you talking about?”
“You’re going to ascend, birdie, and when all is said and done… I will be gone.”
Sunday shakes his head in disbelief. “You—what’s gotten into you? All I asked was that you—that you kill him and now… now you’re talking like a prophet!”
Gallagher kisses Sunday’s palm. “This has been a long time coming. I just needed you to say the words. Sure, I didn’t know what all he’d done to you, but I knew his end was near. I came into this world with a purpose, y’know.”
“And what was that purpose, Gallagher? Don’t tell me it was to die for me.”
“No,” Gallagher says softly. “It’s not like that, no. I wish I could say my purpose was you .”
Sunday has to swallow the lump in his throat before it chokes him.
“Birdie… I know things are uncertain right now, but you’ve got to trust me.”
Trust. It’s almost funny.
“Why should I?”
“You love me, don’t you?”
Sunday can feel tears pricking at the corners of his eyes. “I… of course… god , of course I do.”
“Then that should be enough.”
A pinch forms between Sunday’s brows. “All the people in my life have broken my trust time and time again, and you—you want me to trust that everything will be okay? You start spouting nonsense and expect me to believe all of it?” His cheeks burn red, hotter than the fire in Gallagher’s veins. “I trusted you once, you know. And you hurt me. And I—I thought I trusted you again, but now you—Gallagher, do you know how much I wish I didn’t love you?”
Gallagher’s blood runs cold. “Sunday… you—you don’t mean that. I’ve made mistakes, I know—and I’m not—I don’t deserve your love, I know that, but I’m warning you of what’s to come. To protect you. This is how I’ll save you in advance.”
“Maybe—maybe I don’t need saving. I’m not a damsel in distress!”
The gnashing of teeth and clashing of bitter tongues. Gopher Wood must be ecstatic somewhere.
He’s not even here and yet he’s driven a wedge between these two just how he wanted.
“I know.” Gallagher swallows thickly. “The cage is open, birdie. Why don’t you fly away?”
“You know my wings are clipped.”
Gallagher amends. “You can still walk away.”
Sunday looks down at his hands. “And what if the cage is all I’ve ever known?”
Gallagher finds the strength to chuckle. As if he could laugh all this way. He moves to walk away, but Sunday manages to catch him by the arm. “Wait! Gallagher—where are you going?!”
“It’s okay, birdie. The seeds of my labor are about to bring forth fruit at last. You’ll realize my honesty soon, and it’ll all be okay. Just… just know that I love you. Remember that.”
“ Gallagher —!”
A flash of flame, and the grizzled man vanishes. Sunday is alone again. The cage closes and the key turns, and he licks his wounds.
It could’ve been minutes. Could’ve been hours before any words were spoken in the room again. A cloud of black feathers and another man appears, his presence darker than the pits of hell.
He places a hand on Sunday’s shoulder. “I told you that he wanted nothing but to hurt you, didn’t I?”
Sunday weeps, tears streaming down his face in a torrent. “I-I’m sorry, master .”
“I know, baby bird. I know why you told him to kill me. But worry not… I will deal with him.”
“You will?”
“Mm.” Gopher Wood helps Sunday to his feet. “He is nothing but a false prophet.” He pulls Sunday into a tight embrace. “My poor son… you’ve suffered so much at his hands. Never again. I won’t let him destroy the paradise we’ve built here.”
“The paradise?” Sunday looks over Gopher Wood’s shoulder at Gallagher, who stands on the other side of the room, a ghastly beast at his side. He re-entered the room so silently. What brilliant work.
“Yes.” Gopher Wood pulls Sunday closer, cradling his head. “If things go as I have planned, you will lead this paradise. This… golden dream.” He smiles. “You will conduct a holy and beautiful choir. Everything I have done is to prepare you for leadership.”
He lies so effortlessly.
“I love you more than anything in this universe, Sunday.”
It is not love.
“Sunday, tell me… do you love me?”
Sunday doesn’t dare glance at Gallagher now, who draws ever closer with that memory zone meme in tow. Instead, he retains eye contact in order to keep the element of surprise… and hesitates . “No.”
And in that moment, the memory zone meme affectionately named “Sleepie” reveals how deadly it can be. It plunges its vicious arm into Gopher Wood’s chest, leaving a miasma of blood and glittery fluid in its wake. Like a reaper taking another soul into the realm of the dead, the creature hisses and eviscerates Gopher Wood’s innards, letting them spill out in a torrent. Crimson and flesh splatters onto Sunday’s otherwise pristine suit, yet, for the moment, he cannot find himself occupied with such uncleanliness. He will no doubt spend hours in the shower after this is all over, scrubbing his skin raw, but for now, his eyes remain on Gopher Wood. He gazes deep into the eyes of the man he once called master, called his father.
This is the memory zone meme’s only slaughter.
Gopher Wood stumbles, sputtering, staring at Sunday in shock and abject horror. “You–” His crooked wings flutter as if to aid his attempted escape. He tries to turn away, to look back at the bizarre creature who impales him, as well as its master, but Sunday’s look of serenity and relief is simply too mesmerizing. He cannot find the guts to look away. Probably because his guts are spilling out of him…
He’s never seen Sunday so happy before.
“I’m finally free, Father.” Sunday smiles weakly, sniffling, still sobbing. Cheeks burning red. Whole body trembling. “I don’t love you. Neither do you love me… you never did. All that you’ve done has come back to haunt you, but… I hope you find peace beyond the grave. I hope your coffin is comfortable. Rest easy. May both Ena and Xipe be with you.”
Gallagher steps into Gopher Wood’s line of sight. “You’ve lost. You underestimated his will and his courage.”
Sunday swallows. “Before you slip away beyond the veil, I have to ask… why?”
There is no reply. Gopher Wood is already dead. One day, Sunday will get his answer, but now is not the time. For now, all he knows is that though he remains forever flightless, he needn’t reach for the sky. Down here on the ground, he has all he needs.
Adrenaline runs through him like electricity, but the reality dawns on him sooner rather than later. Blood soaks his clothing and stains his hands and it's all he can do not to pull at his hair or pluck his feathers in a frenzy.
He looks to Gallagher, who remains at his side for now, but will, in the end, disappear alongside the sweet dream.
Now an honorary and perhaps temporary member of the Astral Express, Sunday finds himself feeling lonely… though he is far from alone.
With Gallagher gone, who will he turn to for solace and comfort? Everything the man had said came true. Even with Gopher Wood dead and gone, things had still played out as Gallagher had forewarned. Sunday had nearly ascended to Aeonhood, but ultimately the melody of his ascension was silenced and he was defeated.
During his time in confinement, he fought not against his physical restraints. Why should he fight the chains when the chains that bound his mind were pulling ever tighter?
Upon being freed, and joining the Astral Express, he swore to himself he’d see Robin again someday. He couldn’t afford to lose his only kin. Not again.
Sunday has already lost so much. His mother, his innocence, his “father”, his sister when she left Penacony… and Gallagher. Gallagher .
He never even got to say goodbye. Never got to say thank you .
“Sunday?” There’s a knock on his bedroom door. It’s Mr. Yang, Sunday notes, by the sound of his voice.
Sunday hurries to the door. “Yes?” he asks, opening it to find Welt on the other side.
“We’ve got a visitor and I think you’d like to see ‘em.” Sunday notes that the corners of Welt’s eyes wrinkle when he smiles, just like… just like Gallagher.
Into the main cabin they go, Sunday following close beside Welt. Himeko is waiting for them, pouring coffee for herself and the visitor.
The visitor takes a sip before turning around to face both Welt and Sunday. The corners of his eyes wrinkle.
“Hey, birdie. Long time no see.”