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The night was dark, stars glittering through the trees and the moon lighting the sky. A full one, glowing silver and white. She glanced at it, and thought about a winter's night, the snow falling onto her pale skin, Felix by her side. He had brought her comfort in the only way they were allowed, and she had reveled in it. She thought about it now, his cold reassurances, and wondered what he'd say if he were in her position.
"He is dead, you say?"
She glanced back at Sam. He was hunched on the very rock they would meet at so many times before. She hated that look on him, but hated the way her traitorous body felt hollow inside at the question she asked, the one he had already confirmed not too long ago.
He had taken her out, past Emmett and Rosalie, who had just arrived, and the rest of the Cullens, and they walked. In Sage's silence, he talked, filled the void with his story of her disappearance—her death. He had mourned for months, lost to his wolf with only another, unrelated wolf to keep him company. When he returned, things were different. Seth was broken (information that made Sage sick to her stomach), and there were ghosts following them, one specifically named Ez.
Ez, who Sage knew as Ezra, had helped Sam realize that not all was lost. Sage could return if Aro paid for his sins, his transgressions. Sam did not hesitate. Aro fell. Sage returned.
That's how it went. By the time they had reached the boulder, Sam's tale was over and silence had blanketed them once more until Sage's abrupt question.
"Yes," Sam whispered.
Sage's eyes were already watering, crying even if she was conflicted about the idea. She thought of Felix once more, of the vampire who turned on his master for the love of his mate. He had run, yes, but he had chosen Khari over Aro, and if he heard that Aro was dead, he would laugh with unrepented joy.
If it was Khari who did it, he would first reassure him that it was okay, that he didn't care.
Sage, for some reason, couldn't. She could not speak past the gaping abyss in her heart. Sam confirmed it, but hearing that Aro was truly dead and that Sage received her life in return for his made her ears ring like a giant bell rattling in her head. It's not that it wasn't okay, but she couldn't find it in herself to say it was okay.
Instead, she asked, "Are you okay?"
Sam's head snapped to her, before he shook it, drawing in on himself but managing to take up space. "This isn't about me."
"It is, Sam," she said, then reached out, hesitantly, her tears still fresh, grabbing his shoulder. "Are you okay?" she repeated.
"I'm fine."
He wasn't. His cheeks were sunken in, his eyes shadowed and spider-webbed. Sage's tears fell for him, too, for the act he had to commit. Her other hand reached for his face, and he leaned into her touch.
