-mphfpc-

I'll never be whole again

{Disclaimer: I sadly don't own mphfpc and the characters, it all belongs to Ransom Riggs. Cover is a fanart from Pinterest}

"Isabel"
She turned around, her two daggers, which she preferred over the claws of her bird form, risen, ready to fight the creepy voice that had called out to her. Her heart dropped when she saw Caul in his human form, standing barely five feet away from her. He had a devilish glint in his eyes, his face distorted into a victorious grimace.

She felt such hatred towards that terrible human being- if one could call him that anymore- for what he had done and possibly was about to do. To the normals, to whole peculiardom, and lastly to her darling best friend; Alma. Leaning in, he whispered with an evil grin: "Turn around." 'It's just a vision, don't listen to him', she thought. Nevertheless, she did.

The next seconds felt like minutes, hours, days.
The moment she turned around was wrong, she knew it the second she did it, but it was as if she had switched to autopilot.
The moment she turned around, she expected to be attacked, because she had turned her back towards Caul- not a very smart decision, even though he wasn't physically present.
The moment she turned around, she was convinced it was gonna be her end. Little did she know it was gonna be much worse.
Because the moment she turned around, she looked into a pair of beautiful emerald eyes.
She stood face to face with Alma.

And then, everything happened in no more than eight seconds, and it felt so unnatural that a moment of so little time could hold so many impressions.

They stood so close, Isabel could've counted the little sprinkles in the peregrine's green orbs. Oh, those eyes. The fierceness in them, the warmth which could light the cuckoo's darkest moments and the adoration she held for her children- and her, her best friend. It wasn't the first time Isabel got lost in them. But this time, it was much different.

Alma's eyes held that smile they always did when she looked at the cuckoo, the small wrinkles at their corners appearing, and it was as if the war had ended for a few beautiful seconds, time stopping just for them. But something was wrong. Oh, something was so terribly wrong that the taller woman's stomach twisted and turned.

And then she saw it. She wanted to scream, push Alma away, but time wasn't in her favour, it never was. Behind the peregrine, an equally evil grin plastered on his face, stood the giant form of Percival Murnau. He had held something in his giant hands a mere second ago, something living, and he had dropped it directly behind the ravenette. And now, Isabel saw what it was. And this living thing, that now dug its razor sharp teeth into the woman in front of her, was what had made her wanting to scream.

So many things happening in a few horrible seconds, the most terrifying of her life, and she just stood there, watching the light dimming in her best friend's eyes. It was a simple act of brutality by Caul that he didn't let the hollow finish its job. He had ordered it back before it could take Alma's life for good. He wanted to make her suffer, the unhealthy jealousy he felt towards his sister and the obsession of hurting, torturing her leading his merciless actions. He didn't want to just snap her neck and feed her to the hollow. He wanted to slowly let her bleed to death.

And he got what he wanted. Isabel hadn't noticed when she had dropped to her knees, but there she was, kneeling beside her best friend and rocking her in her arms, weeping how she had never wept. Her right hand clasped Alma's, blood soaking her navy-blue suit, her best friend's blood, and she cried out in agony, cried out for someone on this godforsaken battlefield. Where had everyone gone? Caul had vanished, laughing like a maniac upon seeing his most hated enemy dying, and Murneau, who apparently had gotten the order to finish off the children, was headed to the Ministry building.

And here Isabel was. Never before in her whole life had she felt this helpless. Alma stared at her, her chest slowly rising and falling, one of her hands was clasping Isabel's, one was pressed to her stomach, where the hollow had done it's fleshy, bloody work. "I'm sorry", Alma whispered, over and over again, like a mantra, and now Isabel joined her, making Alma stop. "I'M sorry, Al. I... could've saved you, I... I'm not ready for you to go..." She cried, cried her heart out, her whole soul, pressing her eyes shut. Suddenly, she felt a hand on her cheek and opened them again, looking into the Peregrine's face- who was once again smiling. "It's not your fault, Isabel."

Her name from Alma's lips caused a thousand knives to cut the Cuckoo open from the inside. "Tell them I love them. Tell them they are my family. My CHILDREN." Alma looked away from her best friend's face, her breath even more slowing. She trusted Isabel to take care of her children. She was... at peace. Finally. No more pain, no more sorrow. They would win this fight. And Alma would send all the birds to them to greet them after their victory from bird knows where she would go now. She whispered something only for Isabel to hear. Then, she took her last breath.

:---:---:---:

Isabel stood in the garden. September second, 1940, Cairnholm. Before her lay a small stone, engraved with the outlines of a bird- a peregrine falcon. A sad smile appeared on her face when she put down the flowers she had brought amidst the other bouquets that had been placed there the day before. She put her hand on the stone, closing her eyes before standing up again. A soft breeze blew through the garden's, bending a few flowers. And it carried Alma's last words.

"I love you. You are my family, Isabel."

{Sorry for hurting y'all ;-;}