Ship It(77)

Just like that, I no longer feel alone. I’m with my people, I’m smiling like a child, I’m right where I should be. And maybe SmokeHeart won’t go canon in this finale, and maybe I didn’t convince Jamie, but maybe I made a dent, and maybe the battle isn’t over yet, as long as the fans love it, and the ratings go up, and Rico is a good person. Maybe there’s hope. There’s always season two.

The titles splash across the giant screen and the crowd cheers, then gets very quiet, because the finale is about to begin, and we’re about to find out how this season ends, and this is the last new Demon Heart we’ll get to watch for a while… or maybe forever.

I wrap my arms around my knees and fall into the story.


WHEN I OPEN the door to his insistent knocking, Jamie storms into my hotel room and paces around the bed, his hands clenched in white knots.

“I’m sorry, Forest, I’m really sorry, but it’s gone too far.”

“What’s going on?” I hang back by the door; his energy is making me nervous.

“Claire,” he says.

Oh. “You don’t have to tell me, man,” I say, closing the door and coming into the room. “I’m pissed at her, too.” I tried to call my agent about that damn fic she wrote about me, but his assistant said he’d have to call me back, he was in the middle of dinner with someone else.

“This goes beyond pissed,” Jamie says. “We have to get these damn rumors off our back.”

He sounds apologetic, but I don’t know why. I don’t really get what this has to do with me. I take a few steps toward him, but he edges back.

A knot starts forming in my stomach. I don’t know why, but this just feels wrong. “I’m on board, man, just tell me what you need me to do.”

When he speaks again, it’s flat, emotionless. “Forest… I don’t have a choice. You know that.”

“What are you saying?”

The knot grows, sucking in all my fears, all my anxieties. I didn’t try hard enough with Claire. I wasn’t good enough on the panels. I’m not funny enough, I don’t work out enough, it was those doughnuts, those damn doughnuts, why did I eat that Dairy Queen? No, it’s my acting. The dailies are terrible, the editors told Jamie that there’s not enough to work with. Or the execs called, told him he made a mistake, hiring me. They all made a mistake. I never should have gotten this job. I’m never going to get another role. I’m not good enough, I’m not good enough, I’m not good enough.

“You know Smokey dies at the end of one-twenty-two. We were going to resurrect you for the season two premiere, if there’s a season two…”

Not good enough, not good enough, not good enough.

“But I can’t do that anymore. Forest, the only way to get rid of SmokeHeart is to get rid of Smokey. I’m sorry.” He reaches for my shoulder, but I pull away, dazed. I can’t look at him.

Not good enough, not good enough, not good enough.

“I’m sorry, Forest. I have to let you go,” Jamie says. “Smokey is dead.”

I don’t even hear him leave.

I don’t even feel it when my knees hit the floor.

Just a haircut with a battle-ax.


WITH MOMENTS LEFT in the finale, the whole crowd is rapt, silent. Smokey and Heart are in a foot chase, working separately, but together, each trying to track down and kill the Commander before he ushers in hell on earth.

Smokey has a lead on him; he chases the Commander through a warehouse district, finally catching up to him in an alley. He thinks he has the Commander trapped, and he pulls out his battle-ax for their final face-off, when a Demidragon emerges from the shadows, and heads straight for Smokey, his sharp claws glimmering in the moonlight.

There’s a collective gasp as Smokey realizes that he’s in some serious hot water. But Heart is nearby, I know he’ll show up and help. He’ll save Smokey. He has to.

The Demidragon and Smokey battle, but it’s not a fair fight. The Demidragon breathes boiling-hot gas and has claws the length of a broadsword. Smokey’s battle-ax is barely enough to defend himself as he dodges clouds of superheated dragon breath.

Finally, Heart rounds the corner of the alley, just in time to see the Demidragon take a final swipe at Smokey, slicing open his torso.

My eyes are glued to the screen in the dead silence of the park.

The Commander cackles, climbs atop the Demidragon, and flies away on its back, as Heart scrambles down the alley to help Smokey.

But it’s too late. His injuries are too much. Smokey looks up at Heart with weak, dying eyes.

My breathing is shallow, because although I’m terrified for Smokey, this, this right here, is the perfect time for a love confession. On his deathbed, there’s no more time. The truth should come out right here.

But Smokey only says, “I’m sorry I didn’t trust you.”

And Heart scrambles to put pressure on his wound, to stanch the bleeding, telling him, “It’s fine, it’s fine,” getting emotional, realizing the extent of Smokey’s wounds.

And Smokey whispers, “Heart. I’ll be with you…”

And Heart just shakes his head, lip quivering, refusing to say it, because saying it means it’s over.

And the tears are coming to my eyes just as they’re coming to Heart’s.