Together, Always (TPN x reader fanfic)

Infiltrating the cage Pt. 2

There is this overused saying, often attributed to Albert Einstein; "The definition of insanity is doing the same thing over and over again and expecting different results." Regardless of its likely misattribution, it is fair to accept this as one accurate summation of a sort of insanity.

But if this is true, is it not life itself this? Is not everything in human life an endeavor with the goal of complete resolution, of solace, of reconciliation, of control, peace or happiness? All of which seem to be and have been perpetually unsatisfiable, unobtainable.

The human project is a continuous cycle of essentially trying the same things, over and over, and expecting different results.

Madness is not the exception, it is the norm.

The loss of our early youthful innocence marks the death of sanity. Not because we were saner as a young child, but because there were no expectations for us to be. A young child spouting gibberish or running around with his or her imaginary friend is not mad, not crazy. He is a child. An adult doing the same thing, of course, is a madman.

Thus it is at this juncture of maturity at which experts of sanity are enacted—madness is born. It is not behavior alone, but the confined nature of how we can no longer behave.

Emma.

Her thoughts kept shifting to Emma, her friend, her sister. But she wasn't worried for her or the other three who went along with her, for some reason; she was not nervous at all when they left. Something told her that they would be back in no time, and Christy would be saved.

Or was that madness?

Oliver stayed with her for a while before leaving to help everyone pack their things. She did her best to follow his advice, 'Don't stress, your head will only hurt more.' She buried her head in her hands, her hair getting in the way in a comforting manner.

"We can just go back to being allies tomorrow."

Not friends, not sisters, not comrades. Allies.

It's better that way.

She quickly shook her head, a stabbing pain throbbing through her skull in return, retreating her hands from her skull lead to little to no comfort as she stared into the strands of hair that were no longer connected to her head. She rolled them into a small hair ball and hid it in her pocket.

She started to fiddle with Christy's dark hair and stared at his soft features. "Chris... what would you do if you had a little over a month left?" She sighed weakly, knowing her question fell on deaf ears at the moment.

I'm here.

I'll live.

That won't change. It can't.

"I don't want to leave. I don't want Emma to hate me. I don't want Ray to be alone. I don't want to hurt Oliver. I don't want to be replaced. I don't want to be forgotten. I want to be with my family."

Mujika wasn't here.

I didn't see her.

That's impossible.

...I didn't know Leuvis.

He wasn't my friend. He was a Poacher. He was a monster. A demon.

I shot him. I murdered him.

He hurt me, he hurt Emma, he hurt Lucas, he hurt—

He didn't care about me—He didn't care about anyone.

Only himself. A cruel, arrogant, selfish, narcissistic, predatory, manipulative, cold hearted, dishonest monster. Someone who preyed on the weak and vulnerable. An abuser of his social status, he never saw her as anything other than a pest who stuck around him. If she had not been a Cetra, the moment his gaze landed on her would've been the moment her head hit the floor.