Title: Ending 3 - Light Inside
Status: On-Going
Characters: Fang and Anon
Rating: SFW
Classification: One-Off
Author: Anonymous


I placed the heavy box down on the wood floor and wiped my brow. Moving was always a massive hassle, even back when I didn’t have much stuff to cart around, but now that we were bringing Lucy’s things as well, it was a downright nightmare. We hadn’t quite needed a truck, but we’d managed to pack a moving van full to the brim.
Still, once it was over, it would all be out of the way. Better to just sack up and push through it.
We’d found a decent sized little apartment together, not in Skin Row this time. Lucy had been set on moving out of her parents’ place and living with me, and I was more than happy with that idea – but only after clearing it with her dad. Ripley’s bad side was not something I ever wanted to be on. The big bad ptero patriarch had come around pretty quickly, thank God. I remember there’d been a time when Lucy’s mother would have to play mediator in any conversation between me and him, but nowadays he seemed almost glad that I was there.
Mind you, he’d still clapped me on the shoulder and quietly but firmly reminded me to treat his daughter well... and then invited me to go golfing with him sometime. I just remembered what he said about that 9-iron and tried not to shudder. Even with the shit I’d seen in the desert, he was something else.
Just as I turned around to start heading back out to the van, Lucy came through the open doorway, several smaller boxes teetering in her arms. “These are the last few, Anon. Can you grab some off me?”
I pulled a few from the top of the tower and set them down, leaving her to kick the door shut before planting her boxes down next to mine.
“Whew! That’s the lot of it!” She clapped her hands together as we both stood up straight.
“Yep, now we just need to actually unpack it,” I remarked. Her face fell comically.
I had to say, on the one hand I was kinda thankful she hadn’t wanted to bring her old piano along with us when I’d asked. On the other though, I hadn’t missed the wince on her face before she’d started making excuses. ‘Too much effort getting it up out of the basement’, ‘It was my grandma’s, it should stay with mom and dad’, ‘It probably won’t fit in the apartment’.
All rang true enough as she gave them, I supposed. Wasn’t hard to tell that she had another reason for saying them, though. And that she didn’t want to even bring her guitar spoke volumes more.
It had been a few months since I’d returned to Volcaldera, and I’d spent as much of it with Lucy as I could, but I hadn’t forgotten what she’d said to me that first night. And since that day, I’d... noticed a few things. The way her gaze lingered dolefully on the church organ every other time we attended Sunday mass, or how she’d sported an outright woeful look at some kid’s guitar case they’d left in the foyer. The way she completely avoided talking about anything or anyone from Volcano High. The way she’d pulled me down alternate routes to avoid going past the school every time she’d walked home with me from the park. It was pretty obvious there was something amiss. There was something... almost haunting her, I supposed. It had me worried.
But at the same time, I couldn’t say she wasn’t doing well in her own right. I was really impressed with how well she’d been holding up since I‘d been deployed. Life might have taken a left turn, but she’d still been moving forward – she had an associate’s degree and steady employment teaching preschool.
She was tougher than she gave herself credit for.
I wasn’t sure what to do. Every other night I’d racked my brains, trying to think of a way to help her be happy with everything she’d done, but no easy answer ever came to me. I didn’t have the heart to push her into anything she might not be ready for. I couldn’t do that to her.
We’d been apart for three years, and in that time, she’d had no-one. She’d lived in almost self-imposed exile that whole time. It didn’t feel fair to even want to push her into anything, just a few short months after I’d returned. It didn’t feel right.
I looked over to see her just standing there blankly looking at our belongings, seemingly having run out of energy.
“You doing alright, Lucy?” I broke the silence that had fallen. Almost immediately she snapped back to attention.
“Yeah! Sorry, was just thinking. I know this’ll sound stupid, but now that you’re back... I really feel like I can mean something again.” She beamed at me, then cast her hands out over the assorted boxes and bags. “Like this is all a new start on life, you know? We’ve actually got our own place! You know how long I’ve been looking forward to this?”
“It does kind of feel like that,” I agreed as I returned her smile. “Which box did we put the plates in, do you remember? We should get something to eat before we start unpacking.”
“We didn’t actually pack anything to eat in those boxes, Anon, plates aren’t going to help us,” She rolled her eyes. She seemed completely animated again. “You’re right, though. Come on, let’s just go out and grab something.”
I followed her out the door, leaving my worries with the boxes for now. I could think about it later.

That night was quiet as we settled into bed. We were both tired from the move, and there was still more for us to do tomorrow – neither of us were up for anything more. I laid in bed with Lucy tucked up tightly against my side, but despite the day’s exertion sleep wasn’t coming as easily to me as it had to her.
Her wings were flopped down underneath the blanket, flat against the mattress. I never saw her looking like this when she was awake. She was always either abuzz with energy, busily making her way through the day, or completely spent, an absent look on her face as she did nothing at all just like yesterday. While she was asleep, though, she looked completely content, every bit as at peace with the world as that first night back we’d spent together and simply stayed awake in each other’s embrace.
She was precious like this.
I must have fallen asleep at some point, because I don’t remember admiring the view for long. The next thing I remember is Lucy’s exuberant call waking me up at the crack of dawn. “Morning, Anon! Time to get up!”
“What? What time is it?” I asked groggily. It was Sunday, I was pretty sure. No work.
“Time for you to get up,” She repeated mischievously. “Come on, get your butt up off the bed. We’ve got mass today, remember?”
“Oh, right! Right,” I got halfway up from under the blanket before I suddenly felt the bitter morning chill and retreated. “Uh... How about five more minutes.”
Lucy folded her arms and cocked her head, eyebrows raised tauntingly. “If you don’t get up right now I’m pulling that blanket right off.”
I froze up. “You wouldn’t. You couldnt,” I pleaded.
She didn’t answer. Instead, faster than I could see, she reached down and swiped the blanket away. I instinctively curled up a bit at the shock of cold that hit me, prompting a burst of laughter from her as she dropped the sheet back down in a heap on the floor.
“Come on, lazy ass. I’m already getting breakfast ready, you could at least get up and eat it,”
“Alright, alright, I’m getting up,” I groaned, utterly defeated.
Breakfast wasn’t anything too crazy, with what little we had in the house, but the hot porridge helped chase away the cold. Lucy kept talking breezily as we sat down to eat.
“I think we should go and do some grocery shopping after mass. We need to get some stuff to put in the fridge before we finish unpacking. We don’t have any dino nuggies, for one thing.”
“Heaven forbid you don’t get your nuggies.” I chuckled. Some things just didn’t change.
“I need my nuggies, Anon!” She pointed her spoon at me with mock seriousness. “I’ll go crazy without ‘em!”
The drive to the local church was quiet, but short – that was one of the reasons Lucy had been interested in the apartment in the first place. Previously we’d both tagged along with Lucy’s parents as they went to their local Sunday service, but now we were on our own. Our new church was an old building, not a trace of modernity to it at all – tall and ivy-covered, proudly bearing the proof of its endurance through the test of time.
Definitely a far cry from Skin Row.
The old triceratops pastor welcomed us in before the congregation began just as he had last week, and while Lucy returned the greeting enthusiastically, I still felt a little out of place. Lucy seemed to love it here, from how insistent she was about attending, but this wasn’t exactly my element. We took our seats together amongst the rows of pews, up near the front where Lucy wanted. I sat patiently through the service, kneeling and genuflecting when it was called for – even if I didn’t believe, I had respect for what Lucy had respect for.
Towards the end of mass, though, my attention wandered a bit. My gaze fell upon the wooden pipe organ near the altar, off in the corner. I couldn’t help but notice... well, how much it looked like a piano. A little larger, a little more ostentatious looking – and it looked like it had two rows of keys instead of just one. I wondered how much more complex it was to play than a regular piano.
... I wondered if Lucy would know.
But it would be rude to ask in the middle of a service, so I held my breath until the pastor had given his last word and sent us off. As we shuffled out of the rows and made to join the crowd heading out of the building, I tugged her sleeve back and pointed.
“Hey, Lucy. You seen that?”
She followed my gaze. “Yeah? It’s an organ,”
“Do you know how to play it?” I asked.
“Sort of. I mean, it’s kinda harder than a piano, but kinda easier. There’s less keys, but that can make it harder to find the notes you want. And they’re in different places.”
For a second I was actually distracted. “Wait, less? There’s two whole rows on that thing.”
“Yeah, but they’ve got less keys on them each. Maths, Anon? You know that stuff?” She laughed.
“Alright, alright,” I rolled my eyes. “... I was just wondering if you’d be able to play our song on it.”
She eyed the instrument tentatively for a moment. “Hmmm... I dunno. Maybe? I could try –”
As though on autopilot she took one step toward it, then seemed to catch herself and freeze. It was like she’d just suddenly realized exactly what she was talking about.
“I, ah... I don’t know if I want to,” She said. She was facing away from me but I could hear the sudden shot of nerves in her voice.
“You don’t have to if you don’t want to,” I assured her. “I just thought we could ask is all. Just if you’re up for it,”
She turned back to me then, and I wasn’t sure exactly what I saw on her face. Trepidation? Fear? Panic? All of the above perhaps, but behind it there was something more welcome. Something earnest, something that still hoped for better. Her gaze met mine for a moment, before falling away.
She stayed silent, waiting for me to answer, but I didn’t know what answer to give. I wasn’t sure if I should push it or not. I wasn’t sure if it was right or wrong to ask more of her. I was certain she wasn’t really happy, having left music behind completely.
But wasn’t that her decision to make?
“...Do you want to ask the pastor and see what he says?” I finally asked.
She turned away to face the organ again, and was silent for a long while. The crowd had long since left the church, leaving just us and the old pastor, looking curiously down at us from beside the altar.
She sucked in a deep breath. “... Yeah. Yeah, sure. Can’t hurt to ask.”
It was a weight off my heart to hear her say that. It was a relief to know that on some level, to some degree she still hoped for better just like I did. I came up beside her and wrapped one arm around her shoulders, and in response she drew me in closer with one wing as we walked up to the altar together.
“Good morning, Lucy and... Anon, wasn’t it?” The leathery old triceratops asked. I nodded my affirmation. Lucy had talked to him a little bit last week, but I hadn’t, and I was surprised he remembered my name at all. “Excellent. Forgive me, I’m poor with names at the best of times. I’m glad to see you both again. Was there something about the sermon you wanted to discuss?”
“No, Father,” Lucy spoke hesitantly, looking up at me uncertainly for a brief moment before continuing. “I was... actually just wondering... if I could be allowed to play a song on the organ?”
He seemed taken aback for a moment, but nodded graciously. “Certainly. I didn’t know you played,”
“I don’t, really, I’ve only really played piano,” She murmured as she sat down and smoothed her dress out. “I know they’re similar, though,”
Her fingers brushed tentatively over the keys at first, and for a while her notes were purely experimental, little more than deep, bassy noise as she figured her way around the keys. The pastor and I both sat quietly on the front pew as she worked through her practice, finding rhythms and dropping them as fast again.
I could see a small smile on her face as she focused, and it brought a smile to my own. This was her element.
Finally she let out a long exhale and leaned back. “Alright, I think I might be able to... Let me see...”
She began more slowly than she had on piano or guitar, letting the deep thrum of the organ’s voice resonate through the tremendous old building. The difference between her practicing and her playing was immediately apparent – the melody surrounded us, momentous in a way I’d never heard it before, demanding utter attention from its rapt listeners. I couldn’t take my eyes away from Lucy as she seemingly channelled her soul into the music. Before long she was throwing her back into it, as consumed by the music as myself and the pastor.
It brought me back to better times. Before I’d gone away to the desert. Before I’d left Lucy alone. She’d called herself broken since I left, but I could see in her right now the same spirit as I had when she’d played before.
I couldn’t help but wonder what might have happened if I’d done things even a little differently. I heard in the music all the things that never were, the heights she could have reached if things had gone as she’d deserved.
The last reverent note fell away slowly, and I let out a breath I hadn’t realized I’d been holding. Even on an instrument she wasn’t familiar with, she’d commanded the music with aplomb.
She looked exhilarated as she turned back to face me, a broad smile running across her face.
“That was astounding,” The old pastor broke the stunned silence. “I didn’t know you played at all, but you’ve got quite the talent.”
“Well, I –” She chuckled, rubbing her neck embarrassedly. “It’s not as different from the piano as I thought. I haven’t really played organ much...”
“That only makes it even more impressive, really. I’ve never heard anything quite like that. Have you ever considered playing for the choir?”
“I haven’t...” She murmured, looking my way for a moment. I gave her an assuring nod. “... But I think I could, maybe.”

Every week since then she played the organ for the Sunday mass. We had to leave even earlier in the morning to make sure everything was set up properly, and our Saturday mornings were spent on rehearsal with the choir. Or rather, her Saturday mornings were spent on rehearsal, while I sat in the rows and looked on.
I was happy to be there. I wanted to support her, I didn’t want to leave her alone any more than she wanted to face the music on her own.
Despite playing to perfection each time, she always looked nervous before each service, and exhausted afterwards. An hour or so later she would be back to her peppy self, but I was beginning to suspect lately that she was putting on a front to some degree. She’d never really spoken excitedly of getting to play for the choir, not once said she was happy doing what she was doing.
After that performance she’d poured her heart into, I’d thought the choir might simply bring her out of her shell a little bit. Now, though, I was growing concerned that it might be taking more of a toll on her than I’d realized.
“Are you alright, Lucy?” After our third mass at that church, I decided to ask her about it as I drove us home.
“... I’m alright. It’s just... exhausting, Anon,” She murmured after a moment, looking vacantly ahead. “I feel like I’m going to die every time I go up there and play.”
“Really? But you play so well.”
“Thank you,” She gave me a small smile, but it fell as quickly as it had come. “... I’m sorry. I should be enjoying it, I know, but... it only feels like hard work.”
“Don’t be sorry,” I said firmly. “You’ve got nothing to be sorry for. If you’re not comfortable doing it, we should talk to the pastor about it.”
She shook her head vehemently. “No! I can do it. It’s just... harder than it should be, is all.”
“You don’t need to push yourself if you’re not ready, Lucy.” I reminded her gently. “It’s better to take it slow.”
“No. I can’t just let everyone down like that,” She insisted, wringing her hands in her lap. “... I’ve been doing that way too long as it is. Now you’re here, I... I have to really try.”
I wasn’t sure what to feel. Did she really want to go to that kind of length just for me? Only for my sake – not for hers? I didn’t want to think that she only playing because she felt she had to, that she felt some sense of obligation to show the church her music instead of any real want to do it.
“... You should only do it if it makes you happy, Lucy,” I said quietly. “Not if it makes anyone else happy. Not even me.”