They should not know the truth.
He was aware of that. For Christina, it should remain a horrible future that shouldn't happen, and it hadn't. And Amy had no need to know that she'd told him all those things. She had been right, but she would blame herself anyway.
It was so easy to feel guilty now, when Christina was safe and the event of her death was hard to believe.
It would hurt everyone, telling the truth.
Desmond knew it. Harm that would perhaps be irreparable. But did it really matter, when the alternative was not being able to be with them? Losing his name, his face, his place in the world. Being no more than a ghost walking the roads of the night, for the rest of eternity?
The answer should be easy.
But he couldn't finish the sentence. Not with this lump in his throat.
"I don't care who you are," Abigail said. Then she brandished the knife at his heart. The following happened in the blink of an eye.
For some reason, Christina got in the way.
And his other self, no, the impostor, was forced to act. He grabbed Abigail's wrist, stopping her. She surely would have stopped before hurting the girl. Or at least would have pushed her out of the way. But the imposter intervened, anyway. He didn't say anything, but he didn't let go of her wrist either.
"What are you doing?" Abigail asked.
Her words weren't directed at the impostor, but at Christina, naturally.
"If you do this, you'll regret it," she replied. "It will be bad for all of us."
"Speak plainly."
"If only it were that easy."
Oh no. Desmond swallowed hard. Suddenly he no longer wanted to reveal his identity, the truth behind this incident. Suddenly he felt as if in the hole where his heart should be was now a ball of lead melting. Burning him from the inside.
But what could he do? There was only one way to silence her. And, naturally, that wasn't an option. Desmond tensed, as if preparing for a blow, but he stayed where he was, did nothing and said nothing.
"It's Desmond."
"What?" Abigail, again. She looked confused, even though Christina had been clear and direct, but maybe she didn't want to understand. Maybe? Of course she wished it wasn't true.
Of course she would try not to understand.
I wish I could erase it all, he thought.
"This thing is Desmond too!" Christina shouted, her voice on the verge of breaking.
"Huh?" Amy gasped.
The impostor looked at him silently, as if seeing him for the first time.
"If you think that, it's because you've been brainwashed," Abigail said. "How could there be two of the same person? Are you listening to yourself? Not to mention he doesn't even look like a human being, let alone my child."
"I don't know. I have no idea what's going on here, okay?" Christina between clenched teeth. "But it's him. It's Desmond, I can feel it. I can tell he loves all of us. You said it yourself from the beginning, that it was strange that he cared so much about me."
"I did say that, but..." She frowned.
"The simplest answer is usually the correct one. I'm not a stranger to him. None of us are."
Abigail frowned, nothing more, she didn't know what to answer. Naturally. For the first time in a long time she was fighting an inner battle, or at least Christina's words had planted the seeds of one.
He had always been clear about his priorities.
But this couldn't be resolved without a Desmond getting hurt.
Hurt? Why was he still messing around, with all that was at stake? Surely he would have to kill him to regain his place in the world. How long could this miracle worked by the gods last? In other words, two of the same person couldn't exist. That was probably true.
So... how long did he have until he disappeared?
If his other self staring back at him was an impostor, then he was an anomaly. He had lived two weeks that in this world had never existed. It was clear who would disappear once the miracle was over, who was the mistake that had to be corrected.
"Is that true? "Desmond asked him. Just Desmond.
He supposed he was the real thing, after all, and he was just the anomaly, the mistake. But that didn't mean he would stand idly by. That he would surrender, accepting his unjust fate.
He had never been good at giving up.
"That's right. It wasn't a vision or anything like that. I lived it. I saw her, I guess you could say we saw her die. Without being able to do anything. And then I went to the mountain, hoping to find something. I saw, we saw, her ghost. It took us down into the depths of the cave... down to a black pit... where I came out two weeks before. And changed. What that man was looking for was true. In that mountain sleeps the power to change destiny."
"All you have to do is make a sacrifice," Amy murmured, almost without realizing it.
"That's right. If I knew this would happen, I would do it again. Again and again. I'd try as many times as it took. But... I want my life back. I don't want to end up a... mere ghost."
Christina turned around. Even though he looked so ghastly, she didn't look away. Maybe her eyes could pierce through this shell and see him for what he really was.
"Please. This doesn't have to..."
She was crying.
Not much, but a few tears were streaming down her cheeks. Her face, full of emotion, glowed like never before. He wished he could wipe away her tears and tell her that everything would be all right. He wished he could give her what she wanted now too.
But there could only be one left and it was going to be him. It had to be him.
"Get out of the way," Desmond said.
Christina refused to do so, as expected. This wouldn't be easy. None of this would be easy, but she had to do it. Didn't she understand that she had no choice?
"You heard him," Abigail said. "He intends to kill you. Let go of me."
His other self hesitated for a moment, but in the end he obeyed. Although it's not as if Abigail couldn't easily get out of his grip if she wanted to, especially being so weak, practically handicapped.
She simply wanted his permission to do what she had to do.
That would be the worst thing of all. To have to face even Abigail, to be seen by her as an enemy. He figured he would defend his other self in the end, but thought she would hesitate more.
Nothing of the sort. She hadn't come this far by hesitating. Abigail leapt into action. Desmond shoved Christina out of the way before Abigail had time to do the same.
Evidently, she wouldn't murder her in front of his eyes, and he liked to think that she had begun to like her teammates as well.
In any case.
Abigail fell on him like a meteor, and the two of them flew out the window. They both landed safely on the grass. Desmond ducked his head, staring at the rippling darkness of his body, staring at the grotesque white that covered him. A white like crushed bones, like ash.
Death. Dead.
He was nothing but a specter.
He raised his head and also his weapons.
Christina and the others were not long in coming down, in fact, they all went out the window. His other self included. Not without help, though. Evidently.
"I'm your son. Are you really going to kill me? "he asked her. His inhuman voice couldn't convey even ten percent of the anguish he felt that it had to end this way. "You don't believe me? You don't believe Christina?"
Abigail bit her lower lip.
"I believe you. But what am I supposed to do, stand aside and let you kill him?"
"Yeah. Of course you'd never do that. But can you really hurt me, now that you know who I am?"
Desmond simply advanced toward her, putting himself within reach of her knife. He wasn't feigning confidence, he really wasn't afraid. He supposed it wouldn't make any difference if she plunged the knife into his chest, if her weapon really was capable of killing what he was now.
In reality he was already dead.
But Abigail did nothing. As he secretly hoped, she stepped back as if backed into a corner.
As if she couldn't deal with him if she wanted to, just as she had with all the enemies that had stood before her so far during her long life.
"I figured as much. No need to feel guilty. Just let... whatever has to happen happen. This is between me and him."
Abigail gritted her teeth.
"Stop it. If you're really my child, stop it. We can find a way. We can..."
"Get out of this without sacrificing anything? I wish we could. But you know the world doesn't work like that. Since you saved me, your intention was to leave me alone at the end after all."
A low blow. Petty.
But he wasn't feeling very charitable right now. In any case, it worked. Another step back, a grimace. The pain of wanting to respond and knowing she couldn't. He regretted saying it, but that was no use. It had already been said.
"Leave her alone," his other self said. "You're right, this is between you and me."
"Desmond, don't be silly, you can barely move."
"But if I drink... I'll be able to fight."
"It's crazy anyway! Don't worry, I'll take care of this."
"It's not crazy," answered the ghost, the cursed shadow, a thing of yesterday. "Whoever falls, the one left will be "Desmond.""
And then he laughed.
Uncontrollably, well, he didn't even try. He laughed from the bottom of his heart, as if he had never heard anything so funny.
To his surprise, although it was actually the most natural thing in the world, his other self reacted the same way. Yes, the most natural thing in the world. This was the punch line to the cosmic joke that had been their lives. What else could they do but laugh?
And kill each other.
"You saved her," Amy said. "You literally changed the future, but even after a miracle like that you don't have enough. It's like you don't know how to be happy."
Her rebuke reminded him of that moment, and he couldn't contain the anger in his voice.
"How can I be happy like this? I'm a monster! And I have no place in the world!"
"We're here," Amy said, saddened. He didn't want to see her like this. But he also had to remember that she was against him, that they all were, and forget everything unnecessary until the fight was over.
"But not me," he replied, simply, "I'm a shadow, and how long until I'm wiped off the map? Abigail said there can't be two of the same person. Surely that is true."
"How do you know that? You're here, no problem. How do you know?"
"Enough. That's enough!"
Desmond lunged at his other self, who was still weak, who in fact could barely stand, but was easily pushed back by Abigail, his faithful protector. With a jet of water that hit him in the chest and dragged him more than ten meters, easily, backwards.
He only stopped when his back hit the trunk of a tree.
She had attacked him, but she still didn't have the willpower to try to kill him. His opponent wasn't just his other self. So everything depended on whether he would know how to take advantage of that interval of weakness.
Once he exhaled his last breath, this form would disappear and he could go back to being Desmond again. Then they would all realize that they had lost nothing, nothing had happened here. Because he was still here.
Yes. He would make them understand.
"Let me do this," his other self was insisting. "Let me be the one to put an end to this."
Christina broke into a run, again putting herself between Abigail and him. Not as close as last time, but still she had placed herself halfway between the two groups.
Making her intentions clear, however misguided she was.
In a situation like this, she couldn't be on everyone's side. She had to take sides. Perhaps he should say that by the mere fact of not supporting him one hundred percent, she was on the opposite side, realistically.
"There is nothing to finish," Christina said, "because nothing has started. This is unnecessary. Why hurt each other? We have enough enemies already."
"You should tell him that," Abigail replied.
"To all three of you. I'm telling all three of you, for fuck's sake. Just... just let me talk to him. We've barely tried."
"You know me," said his other self. "He's not going to listen to reason. And I'm not sure he's wrong to begin with."
"You shut the fuck up about that! I seem to be the only one trying to avoid this fucking mess."
Gods, it broke his heart to see her fight so hard for him. In a way, you could say it was simply what he deserved after giving everything, even his humanity, for her, for the future that had been stolen from her.
In a way. But this wasn't simply her returning the favor. He couldn't reduce it to that.
Christina didn't understand what he had done, even if she thought she did. Her mind maybe, but not her heart. She couldn't, because she hadn't seen what he had. She hadn't experienced it. Thank heaven, it was a nightmare that existed only in his mind.
And even if he understood it, most people would have taken what was offered without feeling any gratitude.
Christina was kind. Something increasingly rare in this rotten world. He couldn't belittle her kindness, her humanity, but....
"I'm afraid. I don't want to disappear. I'm here! That's not me. Look at me!"
His voice was dark and distorted, like the echo of the death throes of someone trapped in the depths of a cavern. No light. No way out. No hope at all. He had no tears to cry, but as his face contorted and his soul tore, he felt as if he were actually crying.
"I'm here! I'm here! I'm here! Here, here, look at me! I'm here!"
At that moment, Christina cried with him. She had been crying for a while now, but he wasn't talking about a few solitary tears, a dignified way of crying. She cried as a child would cry alone in the dark, with the innocence and imagination of childhood convincing her that there really was something out there, in the shadows, that the tree scraping the window was actually the hand of some horrible creature, she cried disconsolately, she cried (suddenly he knew, suddenly the realization hit her like a bolt of lightning) as when she found him hanging there and knew why he was there and that he had not been the only one, that perhaps that was all that awaited her in the future, a taut rope, the pain, the suffocation as she realized that she was really alone, that even the body she inhabited was nothing more than an empty shell, empty because it had long since discarded her, empty, empty, empty, empty.
Christina cried with him.
And then he knew he would give her the world if he had to, then the will to fight left him. Desmond fell to his knees.
Surely that will to fight had been a mistake all along. He had convinced himself that this would end when he killed his other self, that a transformation so profound that it had even broken his bond with Abigail would be reversed just like that.
But even if that were true, what place would he have in the world after his most beloved people saw him murder himself?
It wasn't true that it didn't matter who fell.
If his other self fell, Desmond would disappear from this world. If he did, Desmond would still be here. It was as simple as that.
It left a bitter taste, but he had to admit that his fight was over when he succeeded in changing Christina's fate. It was all over at that very moment. The rest of his heart would break and then he could disappear like the specter he was.
So when Christina bent down, still crying, to wrap her arms around him, he felt neither the warmth of her body or her love.
Nor did he feel any comfort.
He just felt...
Empty.