( afterlife )

[tearable]

[ Elizabeth remembered dying so vividly. She remembered the pain in her head was unmatched - more than anything she'd ever felt and now..? It still hurts. Trying to make sense of everything... of what was left to be or feel.

She remembers looking down at Bigby as he laid there bleeding, helpless even if he gave his life to help her. She couldn't return the sentiment. It takes a while for her to leave her new "home" and the sun was so searingly bright she has to shield her eyes. She's looking for him - looking desperately to see if they ended up in the same place. There's so many questions and reasons for her to be angry... for his lies and deceit but -

She just wants to know he's okay.

The first place she goes to find is some oddly shaped lounge - she hoped, somehow figured, that was what they all needed. A good drink. She recalled Jack offering it to her, so why not? Why wouldn't lounge be where she finds Bigby?

She enters like she did Booker DeWitts office, she thinks. Her hips swayed and she's cautious as she moves. The dim lighting didn't hide the man at the bar. No. Once the door shuts... Elizabeth is standing there with her hands clasped together in front of her. ]

...Bigby.

[ That's all she can say. ]

Comments

[puffing]

[ death for Bigby has been a strange journey. where-as he wasn't sure if he was supposed to go to heaven or hell or somewhere in between like nothingness, he is instead... here. his memories are nothing short of a mess and he hasn't even bothered trying to sort them out since arriving. the peaceful and quaint atmosphere feels almost deceiving after everything he and the others have been through in the Complex, and considering his last interaction with Judy, he trusts absolutely nothing she says about the revealed truth.

so what does he do to get by? he goes to the bar. there seems to always be one around every corner, even in the afterlife.

his thoughts are in the bottom of a glass of the strongest liquor that can be provided. is the place run by another robot bartender? who the fuck knows and who the fuck cares. he's been there for longer than he can remember, on his third drink with no intention of stopping. being completely removed of all of his wounds doesn't make him hurt any less. he feels like he fucked over the few people he learned to care for in the short amount of time he's been a scientist, and all he can remember about Elizabeth was the way blood was pouring out of her nose before he passed on.

did she live? did she die? Bigby hates to even consider what may be more plausible. all he wanted to do was keep her safe. to own up to his promise even when he's deceived her and the others in so many different ways. he has always had a lot to own up for, long before they all showed up for the experiment. he should be used to this feeling. except he's not.

he's about to take a swig of his drink when he hears his name called out. the voice is familiar and his glass drops to the floor in a dozen shattered pieces. Bigby slowly turns to look at the woman, looking as clean as the day he met her in her form-fitting clothes. she will notice the large man not wasting a fucking second in standing up, rushing over to her and wrapping his arms around her form in a tight embrace. maybe he doesn't deserve to hug her; maybe she doesn't want it. but he's both happy to see her and sad to confirm his suspicions that she was unable to survive.

they remain like this one way or another for about ten seconds. ten seconds of silence as he squeezes around her curves and keeps her close to his chest. only after that does he lift his head up to her ear, and in a hushed voice, he whispers. ]

You have to be really tired of hearing this, but... I'm sorry.