Two and Three

What Hope Is

Reality, Michael. Tell me what kind of reality you want. The only way that we'll get ourselves out of this alive, is if we believe that we can. When Pandora released all the evils into the world, she released hope along with them, so they would seem a little less scary, a little more conquerable. Hope trumps evil. Spirit trumps evil. We scream 'Murica to symbolize the proud times, not overshadow the crises at hand. Yes there are people still starving, yes there are drive by shootings, yes Congress is made up of a bunch of filibustering children crying for candy, but what about the hope? The crashes cities are slowly being rebuilt, monopolies are less likely to happen now than ever, people are getting closer as they spread farther apart. Without hope, there's no point to the future. Without hope, the future doesn't exist.

Maybe hope is a figment of propaganda. But there's a little truth in every lie.

So yes, we are trapped in a cold windowless cell, with no shoes or food. Yes, Abbie and Tony are hurt really bad. Yes, our kidnapper believes two of us are going to die.

But that doesn't mean we have to believe it too.

We're all entitled to our own opinions...right?

Lisha sighed into her hands. As much as she wanted to get up and rant until she couldn't breathe anymore, she knew the speech would receive mixed signals at best. Michael meant well when he said that they had to face reality, but excepting it went against the single in her mind's last safe haven, like the little kid in her was holding steadfast to the idea that a dragon would swoop in from the sky and save her someday. If it weren't for that ....hope... what was to stop her from jumping off the top of her tower, just to see if girls could fly?

Her gaze wandered over to where Tony was laying in his unsettled sleep. She watched him for the longest minute. Watched as his shoulders rose and fell unevenly, as if he was dreaming he couldn't breathe. His dark hair fell in thick locks over his face, hiding the uneasy expression that road steady, completely unhindered by his blanket of sleep.

He'll make it, she reasoned. If none of us do, he will. If he can take being denied so many times and still persist like every sequence is a new question, then he can get out this. Lisha momentarily regretted turning him down so many times, but then she shoed the feeling away. It wasn't that he wasn't a great person and all, it's just that...she....she couldn't. She didn't feel that way about him...friends....and...

She grumbled into her arm and wished longingly that Abbie was well enough to help her sort through this again. Having an identity crisis was hard enough without having to go through it in an underground cellar with a pendulum of doom hanging over her head. Abbie probably would have cracked a serious smile and mentioned that with the way she felt, there would always be a pendulum of doom over head -- but that was okay, people are set in their ways, and maybe some time in distant future, it won't matter at all.

Her eyes then darted to Michael who was leaning against Abbie to put pressure on her wound. Dark circles ringed his eyes like bruises, but underneath the discoloration they were bright and alert. Seeing. Searching as hers had since the moment she woke up. They tried to find another way, but there was none to be found.

His eyes said everything he didn't dare mouth. They said it all. His decision was already made. He was just waiting for the right time, for the perfect situation. Maybe try and convince their resident pyscho that the others would go free if he gave himself up willingly.

She shook her head sadly. Typical Michael, he was always doing stuff like that. Donating to the sick and poor, conducting the band, sacrifing his life for his friends.

Typical Michael.

You don't see too many people like that nowadays.

Two of you will die.

Two...not one. Not even if their one was willing... The guy with the mask didn't seem like the kind of person who would go for the bird in the hand. He seemed like he'd go after the two in the bush, possibly crushing the bird in hand in the process.

Two...

Two.

Of two of them were going to die, they might as well choose now. Michael had already chosen his path, and in a swift nod, Lisha chose hers. Abbie was a survivor from herself, she'd recover eventually if they got her help fast enough. Tony would be okay, he always managed somehow. And Ian...whatever was happening to him...

They could stop it all right now.

It suddenly like a huge weight was lifted off her chest. Lisha slowly got to her feet and padded out of her corner to where Michael was sitting with Abbie. He looked up at her but didn't say a word. His face was an unreadable mask. She didn't let that deter her as she took a seat by his side. "Hey Mike?" She prompted in a hushed tone.

"Wha?" He murmured in the same voice.

"What are you thinking?"

"Wha?" He repeated and flipped his brown hair out of his eyes. It was usually shorter....but this year he hadn't the time to cut it.

Lisha forced a small smile onto her face. "I know what you're thinking."

"What?"

"And..." she continued, choosing her words carefully. "It can't be just you...it needs to be two...if you go...I'm going with you."

He understood in a heartbeat. "Lisha... you need to think about this..."

"I have thought about this," she growled through her whisper. "It's all I've thought about. I'd try to talk you out of it, but I won't, it'll be useless. They need to survive, and that means if any of us are going to give ourselves, then two of us need to do it."

"You --"

"You can't talk me out of this Michael," she warned. "No more than I can talk it out of you."

There was a long gap of silence as he chewed that over. Finally, he whispered. "When?"

"They need help as soon as possible," Lisha bumped her fist gently against Abbie's arm. She turned to look the drum major squarely in the eyes. An understanding flowed through. A moment later they whispered their last words of love and companionship, then together they stood.