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I-

[ She’d had the thought briefly, but this is approaching sooner than she’d prepared for, and Cassandra hadn’t truly begun to think about what she’d do when this was to happen- not in terms of specifics. She wants to be defensive, and she is; she hates it when Andy pries like this, when they should get along after everything they’ve experienced.

But in this case...? Her voice softens. ]

I don’t know where I’d go. I...I could. If that’s what we need to do. If that’s what you fucking want.

Look, I don't want anything here, okay? Nobody wants any of this. But I'm betting what you don't want is to be a threat to my son.

[ But the hard edge of her voice eases ever so slightly when she goes on: ]

If you go, I can come. Whatever happens, it's not likely that you'd be able to do any permanent damage. And that way you don't have to face it alone.

I don't. It's the last fucking thing I want.

[ And despite how much softer she sounded a moment ago, she sounds convinced of that. ]

You don't have to...be nice to me for it or whatever, Andy. If I find somewhere to go, I'll just go. I don't want you fretting over me or whatever the fuck you think you'll have to do.

You think this is me being nice? If I was being nice, I'd spare you having to hash out the details of how you're going to die and I'm going to have to do damage control.

[ There's a telltale clicking noise that betrays Andy lighting a cigarette on her end. ]

It's not fretting. I'm too fucking old and tired for that. But this is going to affect the people I care about most in this shithole world, so you better believe I'm going to be involved.

[ Cassandra huffs at the sound of the lighter- she tends to associate cigarrettes with acting ignorant at this point, even if the person isn’t actually doing so. ]

What I’m saying is you don’t need to keep an eye on me. I mean, what are you going to do? Have fist fights with me until I collapse? You all might as well lock me in a fucking cage at that point.

[ She doesn’t actually want that. But she wants someone else to feel miserable right now. Guilty. ]

What do you want me to do, Cassandra? Because it doesn't sound like you know.

No, Andy, I don't know how I want to die!

[ She's been emotional for most of this conversation, but this is the first point her voice crackles with true anger, less at Andy than herself, though she wouldn't realize that. ]

I just- I- keep me away from them. If you have to. Can that be all? Please?

It's your death. You powers. You have to make some fucking decisions, because I can't do it for you. It's not my responsibility. Martin is my responsibility. Which is the only reason I'm even humoring the idea that I should have some duty to keep you away from him, even though you could do the exact same thing by walking away.

I told you my solution. You have to choose.

[ There’s a long moment of silence. None of this was something she wanted to acknowledge, to even deal with-

But Andy is right. Why should she keep putting this away? It’s an avoidance of responsibility. And she’s always claimed to be the responsible one.

Still, it takes the breath out of her, and when she finally responds her voice comes softly. ]

Yeah. Yeah, okay, I- I’ll get back to you. I’ll figure it out.

[ She already sounds like her mind is somewhere else. ]

[ That was unnecessary. Cruel. Even if she was right, she shouldn't have said it like that. But it's too late to take it back now. ]

Okay. Fine.

[ These words are inadequate. Maybe she should try harder. Remind Cass that she matters — to Martin and Rex, but to Andy too, in a different way. But at length, instead: ]

Call me or something.

Yeah. Fine.

[ And she clicks off the feed.

She's not going to cry or anything. It's fine. ]

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