Chapter Text
First, there was no sensation. Then, slowly the numbness started to crawl from her legs until it eventually engulfed her body. The pain followed shortly after, and soon, the world around Kakania was brought into dull focus. A hysteric blur of crumbling stone, checkered floors littered with rubble, splotches of blood and bodies. The ringing in her ears slowly gave way to the screaming and explosions, heavy footsteps, gunshots and arcane skills shooting at every direction.
Klara Vingler kept herself on the floor, putting her hands above her head as soon as her consciousness returned, realizing what had occured moments prior, or at least, what she could remember.
Kakania made her way through the bustling hall of the Foundation. During her usual morning walks, the usual chatter and staff clamouring through the halls with papers sticking out of their arms and hands pass by. she greets a few familiar figures on the way as she walks forward with a purposeful stride. In her hands was a small box delicately wrapped in a purple ribbon. She holds it steadily yet beneath her gloves, her hands were sweaty and shivering ever so slightly.
She navigates the twists and turns of the labyrinthine hallways with practiced ease. She's practically memorized where she needs to go. It was one of the first things she made sure to nail when she began to become accustomed to life within the Foundation.
Amidst the chaos, Kakania hears her name yelled at her from behind. Although she finds it difficult to see without her glasses, she recognizes that voice, and when she turns around, she sees that familiar figure of blue and white cowering behind a toppled column, desperately trying to get her attention.
"Marcus..." The name flits out of Kakania's mouth and she is refilled with enough energy to push herself off the ground. She looks around, still processing what had truly happened. She finds her hat, dusty, torn, missing feathers and mangled along the hem, but unmistakably hers. Kakania picks it up off the ground, dusts it off as best as she could before scrambling to her feet, keeping her head down as gunshots, arcane skills and bolts still flew overhead, spewing rubble in their wake.
She reunites with Marcus behind the fallen pillar and immediately begins to check the young writer for any signs of severe injuries. "Marcus, where is the timekeeper?" Kakania asks as she pats her down. Aside from a few small cuts on her face, her jacket visibly embedded with rocks and shrapnel as well as her rugged suitcase, she's overall looking fine, much to the relief of the disheveled therapist.
"Sh- she's... She's on the other side of the Foundation... I- in Madam Z's office. She's trying to evacuate as many as she can." Marcus tries to explain as calmly as she could, tears welling in her eyes, she grabs Kakania's hands and looks her in the eye. "Please, Kakania, you have to come with me. She's waiting for us. You... You have to come with me."
"But... Isolde..." Kakania finds herself in a trance. Marcus' words fade into a blur as the sounds of the battle sharpened in her ears, the weight of it all crushing down on her like the fallen pillar.
Isolde.
She was visiting Isolde today with a present. It was her birthday today. How could she ever forget? She held the box gingerly, checking once, twice, thrice every few seconds to make sure that the ribbon and the wrappings were still in place. After extensive interviews, countless safety briefings and assurances from the staff, they finally allowed her to hand over the gift to Isolde personally, within regulated parameters, and with the promise of concealing her face with one of the Foundation's masks, of course. Although she wished she could visit her once more in her cell, face-to-face, Kakania regrettably had to oblige, knowing well the consequences of her presence.
She came across Marcus on the way to Isolde's ward. They exchanged greetings, and once Marcus was reminded of the opera singer's birthday, she clumsily placed her bulky suitcase down and frantically looked for a letter she had apparently been saving for such an occasion. After taking the letter from her, Kakania cheerfully sends the girl off on her way and she resumes her trip.
"Marcus, I have to get Isolde." Kakania's voice is stern and unwavering. She grabs both Marcus' shoulders and returns her eye contact. "I must get Isolde and keep her safe. Go with the Timekeeper, help her evacuate the others."
An explosion blew open the wall dangerously close to where they hid, figures in black and blue robes come rushing forward, a trail of inky splotches following their path. Kakania and Marcus press themselves against the toppled pillar to avoid being seen. The battle ensues on the other side of the blasted wall with the Foundation's forces meeting the Manus'.
"But I can't leave you! I- I can't... Please, Kakania, you have to come with me! I don't want... I don't want to lose you, too..." It tore Kakania apart to hear the young girl's distress. She lifts her hand from Marcus' shoulders and cups her cheek, rubbing off some of the dust and rubble that has stuck to her face. The therapist stares into the writer's eyes with understanding and determination.
"Marcus, I must make sure Isolde is safe. I will bring her with me and we will join the timekeeper in the evacuation, alright?" A flash of fire shot through the wall and set the surrounding area ablaze. "You have to go, Marcus I just need to get her from her ward." Kakania's voice is steady and calm. She has to keep it that way if she doesn't want to make Marcus worry as much as she already is.
But she doesn't budge. Marcus grabs Kakania's sleeves, so much so that she feared the little girl could tear it apart more than it already was. "I'll come with you! W- we can get her together. Please, Kakania. I- I'll go wherever you'll go, just please, I need to know if you'll be safe!"
"No, Marcus." The response was immediate and curt. Kakania slowly grabs hold of Marcus' arms and gently lowers them back to her sides. The flowing tears created lines along the grime and grit on her face. Beneath the bulky jacket, she was shivering like a cold puppy.
Kakania finds a smile in the chaos and offers it to Marcus. "Marcus. We'll be fine. Trust me. It won't take long. You have to help the Timekeeper. Can you do that for me Marcus?"
"It won't take long, I assure you." She replies to the Foundation staff. She's a fairly familiar face in these parts of the Foundation. They see her strolling past these parts on a bi-weekly rate at this point. After a faint chuckle and a pat on the shoulder, the burly staff member wishes her well and goes on his way. Kakania visibly exhales, straightens her hat and checks her present one more time. She takes a deep breath and continues on her walk, turning into a familiar corner until the halls visibly darkened, these corridors now lacking windows and strong fluorescent lights, she's made it to the patient hall.
Kakania pulls Marcus into an embrace and gently pats her back, holding her close and steadily. The little girl slowly stops sobbing, returning the embrace hesitantly at first, before holding onto the therapist as tightly as she could. A somber moment of finding one another before they inevitably part ways.
Marcus is too shaken to read this situation well, she's too scared to turn the page only to find it to be the last for her friend, but that very friend, like many other times before, gently guides Marcus' hands and urges her to read on.
They pull away from each other's warmth and Kakania looks into Marcus' eyes with weary determination. "Help as many as you can. They need you more than I do."
The blue reader sniffles and wipes her face with her sleeve, keeping up the brave face she must carry, even when reading a burning book.
"Stay safe, Kakania. Please." Marcus says one more time. She picks up her rugged suitcase, picking up as many pieces of paper she can shove back inside it and heads off darting from crumbled pillar to pillar, not turning back. She knows she won't be able to keep walking if she does.
Kakania looks on one last time as the familiar jacket disappears in a corner. She resists the urge to shed a tear. Now isn't the time for that.
"Come on, Klara. You promised to be safe. You promised Isolde you'd be there. Pick yourself up, dummkopf!"
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Bullets and bolts flash across the ruined hallway. She peeks from her hiding spot. Most of the fight seemed to be happening from the room with the recently blown out wall. This was her opportunity to get to the other end without being seen.
Kakania looks around for something she can defend herself with. There, just a few feet away from where she hid, the fallen body of a Foundation soldier lay strewn among the debris, was a pistol. Their face still obscured by their masks, but it cannot hide the patch of the murky red that trails down their neck and onto their pristine white uniform. Kakania adjusts her glasses and hurriedly scrambles from her cover to the fallen soldier, picking up the pistol and shuffles towards another pile of rubble, hiding herself in its shadow.
She looks down at her weapon, and a strange sense of déjà vu briefly overwhelms her.
It was her pistol. The one she keeps in her bag at all times.
Doesn't she surrender her bag whenever she enters the main hall?
She shakes off the strange feeling and focuses onto reality. She press checks the pistol. Still has some ammo left. Good. Kakania looks around for any danger. The rooms nearby were exploding left and right, sparks and marble flew from the blasted hole, but the hallway seems to be empty for now.
The doctor takes a deep breath, holding her gun, jumps from her hiding spot and makes a run for it.
Screaming, crying, crumbling. Distant explosions could be heard and felt, even where Kakania was in, which was now deserted, leaving only piles of stone and bodies. She tries not to look into their eyes, but a part of it feels like those very eyes seemed to follow her.
"Get to Isolde, Klara. Get to her, no matter what."
A left turn and she was closer than ever to her Isolde's ward. Just a beeline through this one last hall and she would finally reach her dear Isolde.
"They haven't reached this area of the Foundation yet. Thank god."
She runs like there's no tomorrow. Growing breathless as she jumps over the mounds of marble and fallen soldiers. Kakania is reminded of the times she used to run like this back in Vienna. The exhilarating sprint as she's been caught yet again in her scandalous escapades.
Words begin to flash in Kakania's mind. The constant reminder of the Foundation's therapists of the consequences of their reunion. What would happen if Isolde sees her? Even if it is a matter of life and death, how bad could the outcome possibly be once she opens her eyes?
She hears a faint shout from her side, before she is enveloped by blast and debris. An explosion sends Kakania flying, slamming her against the wall, her pistol clattering to the ground as she lays down slumped on the ground for a few seconds.
More of the Manus as well as a squad of defected Zeno soldiers began rushing through the hole, ignoring the sprawled Kakania as they made their way towards the main battle happening on the other side of the hallway.
Kakania's vision returns to her in a garbled blur, her head felt like it was leaking out of her skull, blood trickling down her face. the numb sensation on her left side slowly giving way to a more pronounced, boiling sting. She slowly tilts her head to the side, anticipating the damage: Her suit was shredded, an ugly pattern of shrapnel, rubble and flowing blood adorning the whole of her arm and leg. Trying to raise her arm only gave her a loud warning from her shoulder and could move it no more.
Her vision distorts further as her arm shoots another jolt of anguish. Kakania screams, and even that could hardly pierce through the ringing in her ears.
Her weapon, and her hat were nowhere to be seen, buried in the rubble, or flung to god knows where.
Kakania leans against the wall, trying to prop herself back up, painting the cold stone with her blood. She tries to regain control of her legs with all her strength, struggling alone.
Her vision doesn't seem to clear. Everything is becoming a blur. Too blurry. She's not seeing right. With her functional arm, she tries to rub her eyes, get the dirt clear from her face, wipe the mixing tears and blood.
Kakania opens her eyes and she finds herself not in the middle of chaos and destruction, but instead in...
Vienna.
She blinks. Once. twice. The storefronts, the carriages, the chatter. It was unmistakably Vienna. Her Vienna. She checks her arm once again. A small ache persisted on her shoulder but for the most part, she looked well. Her attire was tidy and well-composed, nary a stray thread. Kakania looks around, taking in the familiarity of it all.
What was happening? Is she dreaming? Is this the afterlife? The doctor is fully aware that she isn't supposed to be here. She was never meant to return to her era. She needs to wake up. She needs to return to reality, to look for Isolde, to-
"Doktor?"
A voice, one as delicate as glass came from behind her. Slowly, the standing bushel of green turns around to her surprise and horror, the lovely Isolde standing in the middle of the street, slowly making her way towards the doctor.
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Kakania stumbles along, limping and leaning against the wall. Her left eye is shut, crying blood, a part of her face charred from the explosion. With every step forward, her dislocated shoulder hollers in agonizing pain. In her impaired vision, she could hardly make out what was in front of her, and it would only worsen when what she sees in her head was an eerie reflection of what could have been.
"Doktor? Is everything alright? You're grasping your arm very tightly." Isolde steps forward and timidly reaches out in an attempt to comfort Kakania, but hesitates and eventually sets her hand back to her sides. "You should ask the physician to look into that. We can arrange a meeting some other time, then."
In her vision, she remains motionless. A part of her was aware that this was nothing more than a result of the delirium of reality. Would this mean that she was on the brink of death? No. No it can't be. Her thoughts are clouded with her Vienna, but the fight to keep upright remains fresh on her mind.
The doctor screams with every slow, agonizing step forward until she could scream no longer. It's there. Isolde's ward is just two rooms away. From the looks of it, the sunlight hasn't seemed to pierce through that part of the room. By sheer miracle, it seemed as though this area has been left untouched by the attack.
With every step she takes, Kakania slowly grows more and more listless, the temptation to succumb to this ethereal dream becoming more and more real.
"I'm fine, Isolde. It's nothing more than a simple ache. It will sort itself tomorrow. Besides, isn't there something we should be celebrating today?" Kakania shrugs off the pain (quite literally, which didn't help), and flashes Isolde with her quintessential smile as she waits for the opera singer's realisation.
"It's your birthday..." Kakania whispers to herself. Amidst the blinding agony, she finds that smile of hers again, even if it was for a fleeting moment. This morning where she was obsessed with keeping her present in pristine condition, how eagerly she carried Marcus' letter alongside it, the little skip in her step...
Isolde's eyes widen, as if it were a grand revelation. She places a delicate hand over her mouth, not out of shock but to hide the near imperceptible smile along with the glow of pink rushing to her cheeks. Isolde's birthday was hardly anything to celebrate for her. It was just an excuse for her audience and those nobles to offer her extravagant gifts she would never need, to boast and drink merrily all while she recollects how these years have done all but good to her. But with this radiant, verdure woman, it's an occasion she now looks forward to.
Before Isolde could react further, Kakania had just finished fishing something out of her coat, a small purple box with a matching ribbon, slightly squashed and rounded for being handled less than carefully. The doctor immediately nearly fumbles the present as she tries to reclaim its original shape as best she could with a panicked expression on her face.
Her eardrums were likely partially blown out, she could hardly feel anything other than the searing pain that threatened to swallow her whole if she didn't keep stumbling towards her destination. Yet despite it all, something did manage to enter her ears.
A song. An echo that sounds so far away yet so tantalizingly close. It pierces through the ringing, the distant crackling of fire and falling marble. It's neither comforting nor distressful. It's haunting, dissonant, yet familiar. A song that beckons its listener to it. A song that begets acceptance of a future void of hope.
Kakania falls, her legs giving way mere inches away from the lone cell. Her blood very slowly pools onto the checkered patterns on the floor a scrawled path of blood staining the walls, yet she persists, using her arms, dragging herself ever closer, letting the song pull her.
"Es tut mir Leid,"
she tries to push forward, to at least knock on the door. Her hand reaches upwards, only to fall short, falling to her side, the strain slowly giving way to the cold embrace she cannot shrug away.
"Isolde."
Her dearest's name flutters out of her mouth, a desperate call, the final opportunity to say that name once again. The music stops. The song dissipates. In the blind search for something to hold on, Kakania fears the worst. Even in her last moments, what lingers on in her mind is her Isolde, and her Vienna. The tumour she longed to remove encompassing her being, the crushing weight of her empathy, even when it has sunk her to the ground, still cannot remove the evil of this world. It still cannot cure Isolde.
As the curtain closes, the last her senses could perceive were the faint sound of footsteps closing in, a faint rustle of a dress gliding across the floor, the sound of a rusted door opening and a glimmer of faint purple.
At last, the world is blanketed in a murky red, then black.
"It's alright, doktor. I don't mind." The singer breaks the tension and gently reaches out and takes the deformed package from the trembling therapist's hands, handling it as if it were a sacred relic. An end to the ribbon was askew, the color had worn out along the edges and you could almost make out what was inside that crumpled box as it has left a faint impression of what was inside.
"You've given me something no other could possibly equal to." It was the closest Isolde would be in admitting her truest emotions to the lovely philanthropist. She places the present close to her chest, wishing she could replace her heart with this small, crumpled box.
A nervous chuckle from Kakania, more or less interpreting her words as nothing but pitying kindness, and is coming up of ways to salvage her dignity that was never shattered in the first place. She saves that conversation with herself later and cheerily slides beside Isolde. "Well, would you care to follow me on a walk? There's someplace I'd like for you to see." Kakania nervously invites. Isolde smiles, much more prominently, and with her free hand, takes Klara's and offers it a gentle squeeze.
"Where are you, doktor?"