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Chapter Text

This is Survivor: Road to Redemption. It’s the ultimate game with a brand new twist. Ten of Survivor’s most legendary players. Ten loved ones of former players. All living together on one island. They must create a new society and adapt to it, or they will be voted out one by one. In the end, only one will remain to claim the million dollar prize.

39 Days.

20 people.

One Survivor.

Day One

If you were to ask Billy who is his favorite Survivor contestant of all time, he would explain that there’s actually a lot of nuance within that simple question. First of all, you would have take into account any personal biases (Billy’s literal mother competed on the show, so he’s not exactly an objective viewer). Secondly, you would need to clarify if you meant in terms of personality or gameplay or entertainment factor. Thirdly, you would have to be out of your mind to make someone who is such a rabid fan pick only one Survivor contestant.

However, if you insisted that he choose only one player of the dozens of seasons of Survivor that have been on the air, Billy would immediately know his answer:

Agatha Harkness.

Agatha Harkness is the GOAT. She is the best player to play the game, but never win. She lies and manipulates and overpromises, sucking people into alliances and then voting them out, but somehow, she’s so easy to root for. At least, Billy has always rooted for her. All young gay men need an older intimidating diva to imprint upon, and when Billy was 12, and he watched Agatha’s first season of Survivor, he was a goner. Step aside Madonna, step aside Beyoncé, the only diva for him is this mean and beautiful woman who has competed on Survivor three times and never taken home the million dollars.

Well, make that four times.

Because Billy is standing on a beach—no, Billy is standing on the beach—and he is looking directly into her face. He can’t believe this is real, can’t believe this is happening. Not only is he a contestant on his favorite show of all time, but he is going to play the game with his favorite player of all time.

“Welcome,” Jeff Probst—Jeff Probst!!!—is saying, “to Survivor: The Road to Redemption. Now, you may see some familiar faces here.”

Oh boy, does Billy see some familiar faces here. Billy is drowning in familiar faces. The other tribe is full of fan favorites, and when Billy manages to tear his eyes away from Agatha’s impeccable bone structure, the others on her tribe are almost as gag worthy.

Jennifer Kale, who was favored to win Cayman Islands, but had to get evacuated for a broken ankle; Lilia Calderu, who claims the title of having played Survivor more times than anyone else, yet never cracked top five; Jimmy Woo, who, honestly, was lowkey a sexual awakening for Billy.

And there, standing at the edge of the returning players tribe, looking at Agatha even more intensely than Billy himself, is Rio Vidal. Billy can’t believe she’s here, can’t believe she came back. He especially can’t believe she came back on the same season as Agatha, over six years after their legendary blowout at the Old Blood vs. New Blood reunion. After Rio stormed off the set and was never seen in the public eye again.

Until now. Until she is on the same tribe as her most infamous ally in this game, who orchestrated one of the most talked-about betrayals against her. Also, Billy (and every other gay person on the internet) is 100% sure they were sleeping together. Like, they can’t not have been, with a tension he could feel through the screen. Tension he can feel now on this beach, even standing several yards away from them.

“Oh, I see some familiar faces alright, Jeff,” Agatha says now. Her eyes are on Rio. “You know what, you can take me out of the game, I didn’t know I’d be playing with her.”

Jeff laughs. Billy doesn’t think it’s a joke.

“Aw, don’t worry, Agatha,” Rio responds coolly, grinning a wide and frankly terrifying smile. “I‘ll take you out of the game myself. Been looking forward to it for years now.”

There are oohs and ahhs throughout the beach. Billy can’t stop smiling. It’s like he’s watching TV, but he gets to be in it, gets to see every moment of it, even the one the cameras don’t catch.

“Their vibe is crazy,” the woman next to Billy whispers. She has a cool energy, with streaks of red in her hair and a completely impractical but very punk rock outfit for the beach. Maybe Billy will form an alliance with her. He’s giddy at even the thought of forming an alliance. An alliance! On Survivor! He’s on Survivor! He’s on Survivor with some of the best people who have ever played the game.

“You have no idea,” he whispers back.

“What a way to start the game,” Jeff announces. He’s even more handsome in person. “As you can see, you’ve been split up into two tribes. The returning legends will be the Ankara tribe.” He throws them their buffs. “Now, the second tribe, Sivos, are not returning players, but they have a connection to the game. This season is the road to redemption, but that redemption doesn't have to be for yourself. All of the players on the Sivos tribe have a loved one who has competed in Survivor, and seek redemption on their behalf.”

Billy swallows. Shit. He thought this was going to be a typical fans vs. favorites situation, but it seems like everyone will be aware of his connection. Well, they will be aware he has some sort of connection. They don’t need to know his exact connection. His mom has done a good job of keeping him and his brother out of the spotlight; he should be able to get away with it. In fact, it’s kind of imperative he gets away with it.

“Good to see nepotism is alive and well,” Agatha scoffs. She is the only person who has interrupted Jeff so far, and she’s already done it twice.

“Oh, Agatha, I’ve missed our little talks,” Jeff says with a smile.

Agatha rolls her eyes. Then her eyes drift to the ten of them, the Sivos tribe. Billy feels her gaze, swallows. If there’s one person who absolutely cannot know who he is, it’s her. The person Billy wants to play the game with more than anyone in the world. The back of his neck sweats, even more than the Fijian sun warrants. Then he meets Agatha’s eyes, head on. He will make this work. He will play this game with Agatha Harkness, and he will not let anyone know who his mother is.

It’s only 39 days, he tells himself, what could happen in 39 days?

The answer, of course, is everything.

Day Five

Rio had forgotten how much she loves being out here. She forgot how fun this part of it was. Waking up with the sunrise, catching fish with her bare hands, digging through the sand fast and firm during the challenges while the other tribe panics. The joy of it had all gotten washed away with how it ended last time, all her fond memories replaced with a gaping hurt that cemented into searing bitterness.

Rio has always loved the wilderness, would force her family to go camping when she was a kid even though her brothers complained and her parents barely tolerated it. There’s something about being away from the world, from the inane rituals of human life, that Rio has always cherished. Even here, even amongst money-hungry ego-driven survivalists with cameras on them 24/7, there is more peace than in the real world.

“Here’s your fucking bag of rice, you bitches.”

Well, maybe not that much peace.

Because here, out in Fiji, on an island so far removed from their real lives, is Agatha Harkness, being an asshole to her tribe even after they won a challenge, doing her best to piss off everyone in the vicinity all while wearing her bright purple buff as a shirt, exposing the soft curve of her stomach and the smooth line of her collarbone.

God, Rio missed her.

“Alright, Agatha,” Sam says. Sam has been the self-appointed leader of their tribe so far, a classic masculine and charming army vet who won’t see his end coming. “We won this reward together, as a tribe. There’s no need to be…”

He trails off, clearly aware that he can’t end that sentence with anything but an insult.

“…a huge bitch?” Jen supplies. She, on the other hand, is not afraid of insulting Agatha, even seems to get off on it a little bit, which makes Rio feel a twinge of annoyance. She should be the only person getting off on insulting Agatha. That’s kind of her thing.

“Thanks for your input, Jennifer,” Agatha sneers.

It’s funny, they have won every challenge so far—the returning players a mix of brute strength, experience, and smarts that the other tribe can’t keep up with—yet there is still animosity in the camp. Animosity that can trace back directly to one person.

Rio has to stop herself from grinning, watching Agatha spat with the other tribe members. It’s familiar—too familiar—taking Rio back to when she was new at this, her first time on the Survivor beach when she was struck with the audacity and the beauty of this woman, who played this game in a way that hadn’t been played before. Back then, it was easier. Back then, she and Agatha were drawn to an alliance like magnets, with the deadly combination of Agatha’s audacity and Rio flying under the radar, stacking up eliminations with no one tracing it back to either of them.

But now, Agatha barely looks at her. Rio is currently using the machete to split open a coconut, but she wants to take it, press it to Agatha’s throat and force her to at least pay attention to her.

“You know what,” Agatha is saying to Sam and Jen, “you’re right.”

They both blink at her in shock. Rio shakes her head, smiling down at her coconut. Classic Agatha.

“How about this,” Agatha says, smiling. “We just won this nice bag of rice. Why don’t I make us dinner while you all wash off from the challenge.”

“You?” Jen asks. “Offering to do something around camp?”

“What can I say?” Agatha asks, blinking innocently. “I don’t want to be the first one voted out.”

Jen seems to accept this as a good enough explanation, even though it’s clearly not the real one. Rio sometimes forgets that most people don’t see through Agatha’s lies like clear water.

“Alright,” Sam says, “thank you, Agatha.”

Jen rolls her eyes.

“My pleasure,” Agatha says, smiling all too sweetly at Sam and Jen as they go to wash themselves off. “I’ll let you know when it’s dinner time.”

Then it’s just Agatha and the bag of rice. And Rio, watching.

“So you’re making dinner,” Rio drawls. She stands up, tossing the machete from one hand to another. She likes the feel of it. That’s the other thing she missed about being on Survivor. In the real world, people look at you weird if you toss around a knife. In Survivor, they give you a machete on day one. As it should be.

“I’m very giving,” Agatha says, not looking at Rio, instead looking into the bag of rice, digging through it, with her hands still dirty from the challenge.

“Sure you are,” Rio says.

Agatha turns to look at Rio directly, for the first time all day, eyes bluer than the Pacific Ocean that surrounds then.

“Surely you remember just how giving I am,” she says, voice all low and rough and Rio knows exactly what she’s doing here, but it doesn’t stop the flashes of memory from last time they were out here together: Agatha pressing Rio against a tree, Agatha on her knees in the sand for Rio, being very giving indeed.

By the time Rio snaps out of it, Agatha is digging deeper into the bag of rice, turned away. Damn it.

“Looking for something?” Rio asks, knowing the answer.

Agatha ignores her, pushing through the rice so desperately that some of their only precious food falls to the ground.

Then, with a cartoonish, “aha!” Agatha pulls up a scroll of paper out of the rice.

“Good work, sweetheart,” Rio says, stepping closer.

As Rio suspected, Agatha’s eyes narrow at the term of endearment, turning to Rio to glare at her. Rio takes the opportunity to snatch the paper out of Agatha’s hand.

Agatha gasps at her. “The audacity of some people.”

Rio grins, and unfurls the scroll. She knows even before she reads it that it’s a hint to a hidden immunity idol. Of course it is. The hints are always hidden in the reward challenges, and honestly, the rest of the tribe are fools for leaving Agatha, the most notorious idol-finder in Survivor’s history, alone with it.

Rio reads quickly, managing to digest the first line: where you find messages each day, before Agatha snatches it back, teeth baring.

“Finders keepers,” she sing-songs.

Rio glares at her, then crowds her closer, getting into Agatha’s space so she can read the rest of the hint.

Agatha tries to push Rio away while also reading, which involves Agatha’s hand shoving at Rio’s cheek, while Rio still manages to read the second half of the clue: lies a gift that just may help you stay.

It takes a second for the pieces to fall into place, but then it hits, obvious. There’s a hidden immunity idol somewhere near tree mail.

Both of them sprint into the jungle at the same time, Agatha just one step ahead of Rio, rice forgotten. Rio is a little winded already, having fought off Agatha and also just competed in a grueling physical challenge. But she needs this. She can’t let Agatha find an idol. Because if Agatha finds an idol, that means there is one more tribal council where she stays alive in this game. If Agatha finds an idol, that gives her power. If Agatha finds an idol, that brings her one step closer to the merge. And as someone who has played the game of Survivor with Agatha Harkness twice, Rio knows that once Agatha makes the merge, she is unstoppable.

And even worse, the longer Agatha stays in this game, the more time there is for Rio to fall under her thumb again. And Rio can’t do that again. She can’t.

Tree mail sits in a clearing about a quarter mile into the jungle, a large wooden post with a receptacle where production drops off hints about challenges. There are protruding carvings of snakes on it this year, a fun touch. By the time Rio gets there, Agatha is already digging around, exploring every root and crevice where the idol could potentially be hidden. Rio hates how attractive she finds Agatha on her hands and knees in the dirt. Ugh.

Rio joins her, searching under rocks and in branches. Her search isn’t going that well, because one eye is constantly on Agatha, making sure she doesn't find the idol first. Agatha, clearly frustrated, stands up and goes back over to the tree mail receptacle. Her long, beautiful fingers trace over the carvings of the snakes until her hand stills, and she pulls one off the wood. Shit.

Agatha is grinning madly as she reads the back of the snake carving aloud, just to be a bitch. “Congratulations. You have found a hidden immunity idol. If you play this at tribal council, after the votes have been cast, no votes against you will count. You have until the top five to—oof!”

She’s cut off by Rio pushing her against the tree mail post, pinning Agatha’s arm holding the idol in place.

“Is this what counts for foreplay these days?” Agatha asks, a little breathless.

“You wish,” Rio says, plucking the idol from Agatha’s hands with a grin, before stepping back.

She makes it about two inches, before Agatha drags Rio in by her buff, which she’s wearing around her neck.

“I found that,” Agatha grits out.

“And I took it,” Rio responds, trying not to focus on how Agatha pulling the fabric around Rio’s neck makes her out of breath in a specific way that shoots pleasurably down her spine.

Agatha reaches for the idol and Rio uses the couple inches she has on Agatha to keep it out of reach. Agatha growls at her. Oh, this is fun. Every time Rio’s been on this show before, she and Agatha worked together as a well-oiled machine. Until it all went sour. But it’s never been like this, never a push and pull, out here where they are closer to nature, where they are closer to being their animal selves. Rio likes it far more than she should.

Agatha shoves her to the ground and Rio goes willingly, still holding the idol out of reach of Agatha’s wanting hands. Rio fondly remembers when those hands wanted her.

“Give. It. To. Me,” Agatha growls, climbing on top of Rio in a desperate plea for the idol.

Rio, not complaining at all about the position she’s in, stretches her arm just far enough so Agatha can’t reach it. They end up with Rio on her back, Agatha’s thighs on either side of Rio’s hips, one of Rio’s hands on Agatha’s waist to hold her back, and the other still stretching the idol away from Agatha.

Agatha’s eyes are narrowed and her breathing is labored and Rio could kiss her. She won’t, but she could. She wants to. But she won’t. She’s stronger this time around, she has to be.

Agatha looks down at them, their breathing together, the way Agatha’s bare stomach is pressed against Rio’s.

“Wow,” she drawls, “it only took me five days to get you on your back.”

Rio huffs out a laugh. It’s a game, it’s always a game with Agatha, but still, Agatha was thinking about her.

“You could have just asked,” Rio says, grinning, poking her tongue through her teeth.

“Now, where’s the fun in that?” Agatha says.

Her eyes flick back up to Rio’s, then trail down Rio’s skin. Rio is covered with sand and dirt and sweat, but Agatha looks at her like she is something to be consumed. Rio feels her breath catch in her chest.

Slowly, Agatha’s fingers come up to Rio’s neck, following the lines of her throat, feeling the movement of it when Rio swallows. Then her fingertips trail down Rio’s sternum to where her chest is heaving. Rio feels exposed, wearing only her swimsuit and her stupid Survivor buff, yet she somehow wishes she was wearing nothing at all, that all of her was bared for Agatha’s eyes.

“Rio,” Agatha whispers, as her fingers trace the line of Rio’s collarbone. It’s the first time Agatha’s said her name since they’ve been out here. “I missed you.”

Rio goes limp at the words, ones she’s been waiting to hear for six years.

“Agatha,” she breathes, hands coming up to touch Agatha’s face.

And then Agatha smiles, wide and dangerous, as she snatches the idol from Rio’s hand and climbs off of her.

“Thanks, baby,” she says with a wink and she runs off into the jungle, hand clasped around immunity.

Rio just lies back down in the dirt and groans. She’s an idiot. She just presented immunity to Agatha Harkness, the most dangerous player in this game, on a silver fucking platter.

Still, she can feel the imprint of Agatha’s body on her own, she can hear that faint truth tinged in Agatha’s words, telling her she missed her. Rio breathes out, long and slow, before picking herself off the ground.

She feels more exhilarated than she has in years. And that’s dangerous. She needs to get Agatha out of this game.

Day Nine

“So they call her Death,” the teen is explaining to a rapt audience of Sharon, who is holding a bucket for him and Alice to drop clams into.

“Ooh,” Sharon says, “scary.”

Alice rolls her eyes, but she’s almost smiling as she wades into the water, searching for anything edible.

If someone had told Alice during her twenties that she would be thrilled to find a slimy crustacean in the sand to eat, she wouldn’t have believed then.

If someone had told Alice during her twenties that her two closest allies on the game of Survivor would be a kid who is barely old enough to vote and a nice white lady who seems as if she is here by accident, Alice also wouldn’t have believed them.

Honestly, if someone had told Alice during in her twenties that she would have been on Survivor in the first place, she definitely wouldn’t have believed them.

She spent so long running from her mother’s legacy that somehow it brought her back full circle, here on Survivor almost two decades after her mom competed, collecting clams with a teen and a housewife.

“People started calling Rio Death,” Billy is saying, “because she successfully said who was going home during every single tribal council for both seasons she was on. Even if she wasn’t told who the vote was for, she just knew. It kind of became legend that if Rio Vidal said your name, you were as good as dead. Plus, you know, she has that skull tattoo.”

Alice hasn’t not noticed the skull on Rio’s bicep, especially during challenges where they lift heavy objects; she’s only human after all. But Alice isn’t sure about this whole “Death” deal. Feels like superstitious bullshit.

Billy, however, is nothing if not a believer, getting that faraway gleam in his eyes, his little fanboy look. Alice thinks he might be eaten alive in this game.

“Don’t idolize her too much, kid,” Alice says, “You will eventually be playing the game with all these people, you know.”

”I hope so,” Billy says. “If we make the merge.”

Right. And there it is. The doubt. Their tribe has gone down from ten members to eight members in the time they’ve been out here, and tonight, they are going down to seven. Alice feels mostly safe, as safe as one can out here. She’s been decent in challenges, her time at the gym paying off in said lifting of heavy objects, her brief stint as a security guard paying off in her ability to sprint.

Her two clam collecting companions aren't so lucky though. Billy is great at puzzles, but his physical strength leaves something to be desired, while Sharon—who is very fit for a woman her age, damn—gets easily distracted during challenges, not quite understanding the instructions. If Alice was smarter, she would have teamed up from the get go with Carol or Yelena or Cooper, someone rich in enthusiasm and muscle, but she likes these two. They both seem a little like misfits, like people who are still themselves even through the noise of reality TV.

“So the merge is when we combine tribes?” Sharon asks for the third time.

“Yup,” Billy says. “Some say it’s where the real game begins. At the merge, everyone you vote out becomes a jury member. And the jury decides the winner.”

“You need all of them to vote for you?” Sharon asks.

“Just a majority of them,” Billy says. “There have only been five players in history who have gotten every single jury vote. The first one to ever do it was… well…”

Billy looks sideways at Alice, the awe back on his face.

“…Lorna Wu,” he finishes. The first name-last name of it all is so familiar that it sits like acid in Alice’s throat.

Growing up, everyone from teachers to friends to some kid at the pool would find out who Alice’s mom is and then try to pick her brain about it, gushing over Lorna like she was the second fucking coming just because she won Survivor with a “perfect game” back when this show was still monoculture. It was exhausting. It is exhausting.

”Yeah, yeah,” she says, “perfect game, all the jury votes, blah, blah, blah.”

“She’s a certified legend,” Billy gushes.

”I know,” Alice snaps, unable to help herself. “Trust me, I’m well aware.”

”Sorry,” Billy says, “I didn’t… I didn’t mean to—”

”It’s fine,” Alice says. It’s not the kid’s fault. “It can just be exhausting to have a certified legend as a mother.”

“I get what you mean,” Billy says. “I mean, it’s not the same, but my mom was also… it can be weird when people see her as a superhuman force when she’s just a woman.”

”Yeah,” Alice says. He’s all earnest with it, big eyes directed her way.

“Now, who was your mom again?” Sharon asks.

The kid swallows a little. “Rebecca Kaplan. She was on Peru.”

“Sure,” Alice says. She’s never heard of this Rebecca woman, but it’s nice for the kid to empathize. And what does Alice know? She’s only actually seen a few seasons of the Survivor. It’s not really her taste. Too much suffering for suffering’s sake, starving people enticed to backstab and then feeling betrayed when all of it is a ploy to win money. A little too much like real life for a TV show.

“Anyway,” Billy says, “I have a plan to shake things up tonight.”

“Well, that’s nice, Billy,” Sharon says, "but I don’t know if there’s really a new way to cook clams out here. We just have a fire.”

“Not for the clams,” Billy says with a laugh. He shares a look with Alice that they’ve been sharing recently when Sharon says something oblivious or funny. “For the game. We’ve been doing our voting based on challenges, right? All one big happy tribe. But that means that Sharon and I are fucked, basically.”

“No need for cursing,” Sharon scolds him, and Billy and Alice glance at each other again, trying not to laugh. Alice is growing quite fond of him, she has to admit, oddly protective of this 19-year-old.

Even if the plan Billy outlines is risky, and kind of stupid. He thinks he could get numbers to vote out Yelena, who is arguably the strongest member of their tribe.

“I don’t know, kid,” Alice says. “We’re already bad at challenges, and Yelena is strong and smart and, like, weirdly charming. Feels kind of insane to vote her out.”

“That’s why we need to,” Billy says, eyes lighting up. “If she makes it to the merge, she’s going straight to final tribal and none of us could ever beat her. Like, do you know who her sister is?”

“No,” both Alice and Sharon say blankly.

“Oh my god,” Billy groans, “learn your herstory. Short version: Micronesia. Fans vs. Favorites. An infamous group of women teams up to vote every single man out of the tribe. They go down in history as the Black Widow Brigade. Their leader? Natasha Romanoff.”

“I thought you said short version,” Alice says, digging at a particular spot in the sand, and hoping for a clam.

“Fine,” Billy says. “Basically, Yelena’s sister was incredible at this game, one of the best to ever do it. She won twice. Our tribe is losing anyway; why not get rid of the biggest threat in the whole game?”

“You think she’s that big of a threat just because of who her sister is?” Alice asks. “Family isn’t everything. My mom played a perfect game and I’m pretty sure I’m ass at this.”

“You’re not,” Billy says, big eyes on display again. “You’re great at challenges, no one hates you, you have a pretty cool alliance already. Plus”—his eyes get a mischievous glint in them—“you’re about to be part of the first blindside of the season.”

Alice laughs. “You’re ridiculous.” But he’s not wrong. To win this game, you have to stand out. You have to make big moves.

The only thing more embarrassing than Lorna Wu’s daughter going on this Survivor, is Lorna Wu’s daughter going on Survivor and being bad at it.

“Okay, kid,” she says. “Let’s do your stupid plan.”

“Yes!” Billy says, looking very much the teenager that he is as he pumps a fist. “You won’t regret this.”

Alice isn’t sure if that’s true or not. But what she is sure about is that she definitely underestimated this kid.

When they get back to camp, Alice watches as Billy takes aside Kamala and talks to her privately. The two of them have this sort of fangirl bond going on, Alice is sure that Kamala is also aware of the Spider Sisters or whatever. Then, Alice observes Kamala talking in hushed voices to Carol and Monica, her two closest allies in the game. The three of them confer for a while, and then go back to Billy. It’s all whispers and covert glances and gameplay that Alice is still getting the hang of.

Then, somehow, at tribal council, it works. Jeff reads the votes, snuffs Yelena’s torch, she swears at them in Russian, and then she’s gone.

All because of an idea in this teen’s head.

Day 12

It wasn’t Jen’s idea to throw the challenge. In fact, it was Jen’s idea to absolutely not throw the challenge. They have been on a killer winning streak, and it’s incredibly stupid to lose a challenge on purpose, to sacrifice momentum just so they can vote off one annoying person.

Even if that annoying person is Agatha Harkness. Listen, Jen gets it, she really does. She would love to not have to spend a second longer of her precious days dealing with Agatha, but losing on purpose is not the way to do it.

It’s all Peter’s fault. Big Peter. Jen can’t believe there are two white guys named Peter on her tribe, who mostly speak in mostly pop culture references. Jen is friendly to the Peters, and to Shaun and Sam, who she actually likes for the most part, but she is already so tired of these men and their overconfidence. The fact that they can build a load bearing shelter and swim fast makes them think they are invincible. But this is Survivor. If Jen learned anything from her first season, it’s that no one is invincible out here.

“This is ass,” Darcy says eloquently as they head back to camp after losing immunity for the first time in this game.

And Jen has to agree.

“It’s just a minor setback, guys,” Sam says, but he’s grinning. “I’m sure we’ll be back on our feet next challenge.”

“Oh, after you’ve voted me off?” Agatha snaps from behind him. “After you conveniently had all the swimmers siting out on a water challenge?”

“Uh,” Sam says.

Agatha rolls her eyes. “Just admit it, Jesus. I don’t remember everyone being such pussies last time I was on.”

Jen has to force herself not to laugh. She’s still trying to be on everyone’s good side. Well, except for Agatha’s. Agatha already fucked her over three years ago, stabbing her in the back after they’d had an alliance since day one, a move Jen only survived because she had an idol.

So, yeah, she’s fine voting out Agatha tonight.

Jen goes to the well with Lilia when they get back, desperate to not be in the camp with an angry Agatha and a gaggle of overconfident men.

“We’re good on Agatha?” She asks Lilia when it’s just the two of them, filling up the waters for the tribe.

“I suppose,” Lilia says. “We can create an illusion of peace for three days before the real game begins.”

Jen rolls her eyes. Lilia always speaks in these fortune cookie lines that tow the edge between being endearing and annoying.

Lilia must know that she’s kind of a joke to so many Survivor fans, having played time and time again but never made it to final tribal, still coming back here in her 70s to play a game that it’s clear she will never win.

But Jen finds that Lilia is far more interesting and capable than her reputation. She’s always helping at camp, knows tricks for finding fruit and preparing fish, and has stories about the early days, back when there were far fewer barriers to production and one guy killed a wild boar.

Plus, Lilia’s an absolutely perfect person to take the end. She’s famously bad at individual immunity challenges, so her threat level is low there. Jen is sure that a jury won’t take Lilia seriously, which is probably some ageist bullshit, but would work out great for Jen if she’s sitting next to Lilia at the end.

So, she and Lilia are allies. And Jen’s motives might be kind of shitty, but whatever. This is Survivor.

“Great,” Jen says, “so it’s Agatha tonight.”

“I wouldn’t be so sure of that,” Jen hears from behind her and jumps about a foot in the air.

She whips around to see Rio Vidal, machete in hand, grinning widely like she didn’t just scare the bejesus out of Jen.

When Jen watched the seasons that Rio and Agatha were on together, she didn’t quite get it, why they teamed up so fast, why someone who seemed as down to earth as Rio would team up with someone as chaotic and manipulative as Agatha. Now that Jen has met Rio in person, though, she absolutely gets it. They’re both insane.

“You wouldn’t be so sure of what?” Lilia asks Rio.

Rio tosses the machete up from her right hand and seamlessly catches it in her left. Jesus Christ.

“The vote tonight,” Rio says. “She’s not that easy to get rid of. Trust me.”

Then she gets that haunted look in her eye she gets when she’s talking about Agatha. Jen so desperately wants to ask the details of what really went down between them back on Old Blood vs New Blood, but she is a little scared of the answer.

“So what are you saying?” Jen asks, crossing her arms. “That Agatha has an idol?”

Rio just shrugs. “I’m saying you just might want to get another name for tonight. Just a thought.”

Then she scampers back into the jungle. What a freak.

“So Agatha has an idol,” Jen says. “Great.”

“Maybe,” Lilia says, “this isn’t so bad. Maybe it’s the island’s way of saying… it’s not her time.”

Jen would love to be out here with someone who speaks in normal sentences.

Sam finds Jen when she comes back to camp, and pulls her aside to “find more firewood,” which everyone knows is code for talking strategy.

“We good on Agatha?” he asks once they’re alone.

Jen likes Sam, is the thing. He’s one of the strong guys who thinks he can do anything, but he’s also funny and charming, not arrogant like Big Peter or a blind follower like Little Peter. Sam has made himself a leader out here so easily that even Jen is almost falling for it. Almost.

She considers her words carefully before saying, “do you think there’s any chance she has an idol?”

Sam crosses his insanely buff arms, leaning back against the tree. “I don’t think so,” he says. “I feel like she would flaunt it if she had it.”

But Sam has never played with Agatha, has never had to navigate the layers of if she’s lying or telling the truth. Sure, if Agatha had an idol and wanted people to know, she would. But right now, keeping it a secret works better for her. It means she can control the vote.

“If she does have an idol,” Jen says, with a raise of her eyebrow, “it sure would have been stupid to throw the challenge.”

Sam laughs, a little self-deprecatingly. “You’ve got me there, Kale. If it makes you feel better, we can toss a few votes toward Rio just in case.”

“Rio?”

Sam nods. “I know you’re close with Lilia. Darcy and Jimmy are tight. Shaun and the Peters trust me. So that leaves Rio.”

It’s a diplomatic choice. Rio doesn’t really have any allies out here. But Rio gave Jen that tip. And yeah, Rio’s weird as hell, but if she gives Jen information, especially information on wildcard of the century Agatha Harkness, then she’s worth keeping around.

“Rio would be pissed as hell if she went home before Agatha,” Jen says.

Sam laughs. “I know, I know. But her going won't ruffle any feathers.”

“Right,” Jen says. It’s smart of Sam. Sam is already going for jury votes. Sam is already leading this tribe with a smile. “So, me and Lilia vote for Rio, pull in Darcy for security, the guys all vote Agatha?”

Sam nods. “Perfect. Hey, we either get out the most unpleasant person around camp or Death herself. Not bad for our first tribal.”

He holds out a fist. Jen bumps it. Poor guy, she really does like him. But this isn’t her first time out here. The only thing more dangerous than somebody everyone hates is somebody everyone loves.

After dinner, Jen gets Darcy alone down by the ocean, washing out their coconut shells.

“What do you think about Sam?” Jen asks bluntly.

“Crazy hot,” Darcy says with a grin. “His arms are out of this world.”

Jen levels a look at her. Darcy is the only person on their tribe who doesn't seem to take the game too seriously, preferring to crack jokes over talking actual strategy. But Jen’s seen her play before, knows she’s loyal to a fault. She knows there’s no way Jane Foster would have won Nerds vs Jocks if Darcy hadn’t been with her until the end. Darcy’s a good person to have on her side.

“Arms aside,” Jen says, “hypothetically, if the person we’re all planning on voting out has an idol, what do you think of writing down Sam’s name?”

Darcy looks up at Jen, appraising her. “Oh shit, you came here to play, didn’t you?”

Jen shifts a little. “I mean, yeah, we all did.”

She knows this is a big move to pull at their first tribal. She knows that Sam trusts her, and she can use that. But Rio, “Death” or not, would be a far far better person to take further in this game than someone dripping with charisma who already has a group of men doing whatever he says. Rio’s unpredictable and a loner, but she came through this afternoon for Jen. And Jen can use that.

“Look at you, making a move to take out the de facto leader,” Darcy says. “Very girlboss. Slay, queen.”

“Please don’t use any of those words about me again,” Jen says. “But, for real, would you be in?”

“Are you kidding me?” Darcy says. “This is a dream. Black Widow Brigade 2.0., lets go. How are the numbers?”

“If you, me and Lilia vote for Sam, that’s three. Then the boys vote for Agatha, so that’s five for her. And Sam would think we are voting for Rio.”

“You dog,” Darcy says, with a note of admiration. “I could get Jimmy to vote Sam too, if we need.”

“Let’s hold back,” Jen says. She’s getting excited, that itch of a blindside coming up. “If Agatha doesn’t have an idol…”

“Then she would have just played us,” Darcy finishes.

Jen nods. Darcy doesn’t need to know about Rio spilling. And Jen needs to take everything Rio says with a grain of salt. If Rio’s right, and Agatha does have an idol, perfect. But on the off chance that Rio is working with Agatha, Jen needs Agatha gone quick. Jen sincerely doubts it, given that Rio is constantly staring at Agatha like she wants to kill her (amongst other things), but it doesn’t hurt to be careful out here.

She will not go down in history as the person who saved Agatha Harkness.

Jen is practically buzzing on the way to tribal. Either way it’s a win. Either Agatha is gone, a constant thorn in her side, or Sam is gone, someone who any jury would instantly fork over a million dollars to.

Right before they sit down, Rio glances at Jen and mouths, “Sam?”

Jen starts a little. Damn, maybe this bitch really is Death. Or just logically knows Sam is the smart choice. Jen just nods at her.

“Welcome to your first tribal council of this season,” Jeff says once they all arrive. “You’ve all been here before, you know the drill. Behind each of you is a torch, go ahead and grab one, dip it in, and get fire. This is part of the ritual of tribal council. Because in this game, fire represents your life, and when your fire's gone, so are you.”

Jen still gets chills at the speech. She’s been watching Survivor since she was a kid, and she can’t believe she’s actually out here. Again. Only this time, she will not let something as stupid as tripping over a branch ruin her chances.

“So what happened out there today?” Jeff asks. “You guys have been on a winning streak, fighting through these challenges, wiping the floor with the Loved Ones tribe, but today, something was off.”

There are some giggles in the tribe, mostly being traced back to the Peters.

“Now, what was that?” Jeff asks. “That bit of laughter?”

“Oh, come on, Jeff,” Agatha says, “you know exactly what that was. These boys are so sick and tired of me that they purposefully lost.”

“Is this true?” Jeff asks.

There’s a silence around the camp.

“I wouldn’t say we purposefully lost,” Sam says diplomatically. “But we had an opportunity to conserve energy on the challenge today, knowing that even if we happened to lose, we would still have the numbers.”

“Please,” Agatha says.

“Lilia,” Jeff says, “you’ve played this game more than anyone. Tell me, does throwing a challenge ever go well?”

“You know what, Jeff,” Lilia says, “I’ll have to let you know after tonight.”

Jeff laughs, eyes crinkling up. Lilia laughs back, looking up at him through her eyelashes. Seems like she’s been on enough seasons of Survivor to have an almost flirty vibe with Jeff. Good lord.

“So, Rio,” Jeff says, “Agatha says it’s her tonight. This is now your third time playing with Agatha. Do you think she’s right?”

Rio laughs, long and low. “Well, like you said, this is my third time playing with Agatha. But I don’t think you need to have played with her three times to know that you can never trust a word she says.”

“Oh, that’s rich coming from you,” Agatha says with a sneer.

“When have I lied to you?” Rio demands. The normal deadpan is gone from her tone, and it’s cold now.

“You know what you did,” Agatha says.

“I have never lied to you out here,” Rio says. “And you know that.”

“Wow!” Jeff says. “First tribal council and we are already off to a fiery start. Now, let’s talk camp life.”

When Jeff is finally done grilling them, he gleefully informs them that it’s time to vote. Jen feels a rush of power when she goes up to vote and writes down Sam’s name. God, she missed this game.

After, Jeff stands in front of them, holding the bucket of votes. This is it.

“Alright,” Jeff says, “If anybody has a hidden immunity idol and you want to play it, now would be the time to do so.”

Jen sits on her hands for fear of reacting too much. She keeps her eyes straight ahead, not looking at Agatha. There’s a beat of silence. Another.

“Well, Jeff,” Agatha drawls, “I came all the way out here again, it would be a pity to go home so early.”

“Shit,” Little Peter says under his breath.

Jen has to stop herself from letting out a cheer. Agatha hops up to her feet, gleefully and presents Jeff with a little carved snake. Jeff examines it as the entire tribe holds their breath.

“This is a hidden immunity idol,” Jeff says. “Any votes cast for Agatha will not count.”

“Good call,” Sam mutters to Jen.

Jen grimaces. Sam has about twenty more seconds of liking her. At least it’s too early for him to be on the jury.

“Once the votes are read, the decision is final,” Jeff is saying. “The person voted out will be asked to leave the tribal council area immediately. I’ll read the votes. Agatha… does not count. Agatha…does not count. Agatha… does not count. Agatha… does not count. Agatha… does not count. Rio.”

“Me?” Rio hisses. “Come on.”

Sam grins.

“Sam,” Jeff continues and Sam’s grin falters. “Sam.” Sam’s smile has hardened into a glare. “So that’s one vote Rio, two votes Sam.” Jeff holds up the deciding vote. “The fourth person voted out of Survivor: Road to Redemption is Sam.”

“This is bullshit,” Sam says, specifically to Jen, as he hoists his bag up on his shoulder and brings his torch over to Jeff.

“Sam,” Jeff says, “the tribe has spoken.”

Then Sam’s torch is snuffed and he is gone. And Jen has successfully orchestrated her first blindside of the season.

“Dude, what was that?” Big Peter asks as they’re leaving.

“Well, Pete,” Darcy says to him jovially, “there’s this little thing we do on Survivor called voting.”

Jen laughs to herself, as she slings her bag over her shoulder and heads back to camp. She falls into step behind Rio. It’s very clear now that she’s absolutely not working with Agatha, which is a huge win.

“Hey, thanks for the heads up,” Jen whispers to Rio.

Rio laughs coldly. “Well, if I hadn’t told someone, then it would have been my head on the chopping block.” Her voice goes up a few decibels. “Because somebody wrote down my name.”

Agatha, a few paces ahead of them, turns around and grins.

“Oh, don’t worry, baby,” she says cheerfully, “I knew you wouldn’t go home tonight. The vote was just a little present from me. A thanks for blabbing about my idol.”

Rio honest to god growls at her. And like, damn, Jen also is annoyed by Agatha constantly, but it’s nothing compared to this.

“Okay, sweetheart,” Rio grits out. Jen kind of feels like she shouldn’t be part of this conversation. “Congrats on not going home tonight. But there will be another tribal. And another. You can’t escape elimination forever. Next time, I will be writing your name down. And you will be going home.”

“Keep telling yourself that!” Agatha calls, as she saunters away from tribal. “Oh, and Jen? Thanks for getting rid of Sam for me. You’re a doll.”

“God, she’s the worst,” Jen says.

“Yeah,” Rio agrees. She’s still watching Agatha walk away, eyes focused and heated. “It will be her time soon though, don’t you worry.” She raises her voice, calling to Agatha. “Can’t get rid of me that easy!”

“Watch me!” Agatha calls back, not turning around.

Day 13

There’s a change in the air as they all gather in the sand after the sun has risen on their 13th day out here.

Lilia says as much to Jen, who shoots her a look and just says, “okay, Lilia, sure.”

Lilia sighs. These kids, so sure they know how this game works. Lilia knows they giggle behind her back, knows they think she’s just some kooky old lady. But she also knows she’s right.

Survivor is about people. And not just the 20 people they maroon on this island. There are people all around them, holding mics and cameras and taking them aside for interviews and having hurried conversations. Lilia has always been good at reading people, and the Survivor crew is no different, despite their whispered voices and their NDAs.

So when Lilia feels a change in the air, it isn’t some mystical thing about the moon phases (though it is a waning gibbous at the moment, time for change). No, Lilia senses the people around her, the way they are gearing up for something now.

Something like Jeff gathering them all up like cattle and announcing, “drop your buffs!”

“No way,” Jen mutters under her breath. Lilia smirks at her.

“We are switching tribes!” Jeff finishes.

“Told you,” Lilia whispers, before the sixteen people left in this game process what Jeff has said.

There are groans of disappointment and shrieks of pleasure, the young man on the Sivos tribe exclaiming how cool this is. Then, of course there’s Agatha.

“What was that you said last night?” Agatha asks Rio, grin alighting her face. “Can’t get rid of me that easy?”

“We could still be on the same tribe,” Rio answers, petulant.

Lilia sincerely hopes that they aren’t on the same tribe, because she truly does not envy the poor souls who will be constantly stuck with their bickering and violent type of flirting. Lilia played with the two of them together, years ago, and she thought that was bad, their whispered conversations and going off into the forest to do God knows what, but this obnoxious performative hatred is far worse.

Jeff has everyone reach into a bag to pick a rock, instructing them to keep it hidden. The rocks sits warmly and comfortably in Lilia’s palm.

“Okay!” Jeff says, once everyone has picked a rock. “When you reveal your rocks, those with green rocks, take a spot on the green mat; you are the new Sivos tribe. Those with purple, take a spot on the purple mat; you are the new Ankara tribe. Now, you can reveal.”

Lilia opens her palm to see a green rock looking up at her. She quickly glance at Jen, who is sporting a green rock as well. Well, at least there is one ally. Agatha, Lilia notes with relief, is holding a purple rock. Finally, some damn peace and quiet around camp.

When they arrange themselves on their mats, Lilia takes note of the new tribes. Oh this should be interesting.

“What a shakeup!” Jeff says with glee. “Legends versus Loved Ones is no more! The new Sivos tribe is Lilia, Jen, Darcy, Jimmy, Rio, Peter P., Alice and Monica. And the new Ankara tribe is Carol, Billy, Sharon, Kamala, Cooper, Shaun, Peter Q. and Agatha. Here are your buffs.”

He throws them their buffs and then looks out into the eyes of the contestants. Jeff Probst, who somehow has become someone Lilia has known for twenty years, is very good at his job. Often, he has to pick up on cues in a moment's notice, looking to the right people to ask the right questions.

“Billy,” he says, narrowing in on the teen on the Ankara tribe, “you’ve claimed to be a superfan of this game. What does this tribe swap mean?”

“Oh my god,” Billy says, “it means that the game is fully changed. And personally, I mean, I’m pretty psyched to play with some of the people I’ve been watching on TV for years.”

Agatha visibly rolls her eyes at this.

“Agatha,” Jeff says next, zeroing in, “you survived a pretty fiery tribal council last night. What does the new tribe mean for you?”

“Well, Jeffrey,” Agatha says with a grin, “like this child, I’m just so excited to play with all these new people.”

“Give me a fucking break,” Rio mutters from beside Lilia, not as quiet as she thinks.

“And honestly,” Agatha continues, now looking directly at Rio. “It’s a brand new fucking day for me.”

Rio, like some sort of feral dog, just growls in Agatha’s direction.

Lilia, for one, is absolutely thrilled they’re separated. For now. God help her when the merge comes.

Chapter Text

Day 14

“I’m a huge fan,” the kid is saying. “Like, a huge fan. Your immunity run on Solomon Islands was a thing of beauty. And don’t get me started on the blindside you pulled on the Seven alliance. Amazing.”

Every day out here, the humidity brings out thousands of mosquitos that buzz around Agatha’s head, in her ear, that fly away just before she can swat and kill them. A persistent annoyance.

Much like this teenager, who insisted on following Agatha to the tree mail post without shutting up for one second.

“And I think the jury on Cayman Islands was more bitter than they had any right to be,” he continues. “The win should have been yours.”

“Well aren’t you sweet, uh…” his name escapes Agatha’s mind. She’s a little busy. She knows that production must have put the idol back in camp after she played it. Obviously it won’t be in the same spot, but there has to be a hint around here somewhere.

She’s lucky she’s in the same camp after the tribe swap, lucky she gets to sleep in the nice shelter that Sam constructed before his ass went packing. She knows this beach by now, knows which roots not to trip over, knows the best path to the coconut trees. And she knows where the idol was. She also knows that about two feet to her left, under a tree root, is the fake idol she buried after she found the real one. It’s a stick poorly carved in the form of a snake, one that she hopes someone will be gullible enough to take.

Maybe this kid who won’t shut his trap.

“Billy,” he supplies.

Agatha’s eyes flick to his, the name sparking something, a memory.

“And who’s your ‘loved one?'" she asks, actually curious for the first time since he started yapping.

“My mom played a while back. Rebecca Kaplan on Peru.”

“Sure,” Agatha says. She remembers Peru, a vaguely boring season, and Rebecca, a vaguely boring woman.

“Anyway,” Billy continues, “I have some ideas.”

“About your mom?” Agatha asks. “About other things you can do around camp instead of bothering me?”

Billy laughs. “Classic Agatha Harkness snark. Wow. So cool to be on the receiving end of it.”

Agatha levels a glare at him. It just makes him smile wider. What a weirdo.

“I want to work with you,” he says.

“No you don’t,” Agatha says, rolling her eyes. “Haven’t you heard, I’m the person everyone wants to vote out.”

The tribe swap has been a godsend. Agatha could only take so many days being on the bottom of her tribe. Could only take so much of Rio staring at her across camp like Agatha was the worst person who ever existed. Could only take so much of Rio starting fire for their camp every morning, her strong fingers striking the flint against the machete like it’s the most natural thing in the world, her grin alighting when she got it. Could only take so much of Rio coming back in from the ocean like a more butch bond girl, water flowing off her, holding up a fish she caught with only her hands. Last time they were here together, Rio would catch an extra fish just for Agatha, and then the two of them would share it, sneaking away from everyone else, a prize just for them.

No such luck this time, of course. Which is why it’s such a boon that Agatha is now on a separate tribe from Rio. She came out here to play the game of Survivor, not to… reminisce.

Her new tribe still leaves something to be desired, though. It seems to operate on only a few brain cells between all of them.

“Not everyone wants to vote you out,” the teen says.

Case in point.

“Fine,” Agatha concedes, “everyone except one annoying teenager wants to vote me out.”

“Thank you,” he says smugly. “And I’ll be twenty in a few months, so I’m barely a teenager.”

“Sure, Teen,” she says.

“Hey, you know my name now,” he says, but he’s grinning.

Agatha shrugs at him before going back to searching for any branch that feels out of place, any hints that may be hiding in plain sight.

“Looking for an idol?” The teen asks.

“No, I lost my wallet,” Agatha deadpans.

The teen laughs loudly. Listen, Agatha knows she is extremely funny and charming, but this kid is really overdoing it.

“Good,” Billy says, still giggling a little. “Because if you were looking an idol, you would have much luck.”

Agatha turns to him, narrows her eyes.

“And why would that be?”

Billy grins. Then he takes a bundle from his tight black denim shorts (terrible wardrobe choice for Survivor) and waves it in the air, pride radiating off of him.

“Because someone already found it.”

Oh, this poor kid. Even standing a few feet away from him, Agatha can tell this idol is the fake one she buried. It had the same wrapping, is the same shape. This little sucker.

Agatha doesn’t let it show on her face. She’s not an idiot. Instead she leans back against the tree mail post and gives him an approving glance, once that she knows he craves.

“Wow, Teen,” she drawls, “look at you, playing Survivor.”

He blushes, of course.

“So just saying, it would be in your best interest for us to team up,” he says, landing his pitch based on a literal false idol.

“Gee whiz, Billy, you say this to all the girls?” Agatha asks, winking at him.

She has no idea why she is winking at this kid, why she’s humoring him. Unless, of course, it’s because he reminds her of—no. Agatha shakes it. She’s humoring him because he’s gullible and he likes her and she would be a fool to get rid of the only person on her side so far in this game.

“I’m gay,” is his idiot response.

“Yeah, obviously,” she says with a laugh. And then, just to throw him a bone, “we’ll talk after the challenge.”

The challenge, Agatha assumes, is going to be more of the usual. Everyone rolls a giant ball or swims through an obstacle course or digs through the mud to solve a big puzzle. The team challenges have always been Agatha’s least favorite part of this whole thing, an excuse to scapegoat whoever messes up, or a reason for someone fast and strong to get an inflated ego.

But then, they arrive at the beach and Jeff says, “today wil be your first individual immunity challenge of the season.”

Agatha’s ears perk up. She thrives in individual immunity; relishing the feeling of safety at tribal council while everyone else fears for their lives. That’s real power in this game.

Jeff explains that this challenge is a classic Survivor endurance test, or as Agatha would call it, waterboarding that’s appropriate for Wednesday nights at 8/7 central on CBS. It’s the one where everyone has a hand over their head, with a rope connecting their wrist to a large tank of water, and if they so much as flinch, the water comes crashing down on them and they're out of the challenge. Agatha has done this one before, back on Solomon Islands. After, her right arm was so sore that she had to fuck Rio with her left hand. Desperate times.

Unbidden, her eyes flick to Rio, on the other mat with her other tribe. It’s the first time in all three seasons they haven’t been on the same tribe. Rio, of course, is staring right back. Agatha bares her teeth at Rio. Rio grins at her. Agatha briefly wonders if Rio is also thinking about the left-handed incident. Then she decides she doesn't care.

“Tonight, both tribes go to tribal council,” Jeff is explaining. “The person who lasts the longest in each tribe will win immunity. And the person who lasts the longest overall wins a reward for their whole tribe. Wanna know what you’re playing for?”

Everyone cheers. Sheep.

“The winning tribe will win a giant feast. Ribs. Chicken wings. Cornbread. All the fixings. All while sitting in on their opponent’s tribal council. This is a huge reward, not just gaining sustenance, but gaining insight into the newly formed other tribe’s weaknesses.”

There are murmurs throughout the beach. Agatha doesn't think the power to listen in on the other tribe’s tribal is that great, especially because she was just on a tribe with those people. Their tribal will probably be Lilia saying something all woowoo and Jen rolling her eyes and Darcy making a joke and then Rio writing down the name of the person who goes home and everyone calling her that stupid nickname. She’s seen it.

Still, Agatha wants to win. Needs to win. Even with her gay teenage superfan, her new tribe surely still wants her gone. She’s sure Shaun and Big Peter from the Legends tribe are already convincing these new people to vote her out. One more tribal means everything.

So she holds her hand above her head eagerly, slips the rope onto her wrist. She will not falter. She can’t.

“And this challenge is on,” Jeff enthuses.

The two tribes are positioned across from each other, and someone who is a bitch on production made it so Agatha is standing directly across from Rio. Christ. Agatha tries to keep her eyes on neutral territory; a wooden beam, a palm tree in the distance, the permanent glare on Jen’s face, but her eyes keep coming back to how Rio’s bicep is taught as she keeps her arm above her head. She has a skull tattooed there, something that Agatha relentlessly mocked her for when they first met, especially when she found out Rio got it at 18 to prove to a girl that she was hardcore. It made Agatha laugh and laugh and she also found it hopelessly charming, at the time.

Now, the skull is bulging and stretching as Rio’s arm feels the strain of holding itself up. Agatha wants to bite it. She looks away.

“And just like that,” Jeff is announcing from somewhere that feels far away, “Lilia is out of the challenge. And right behind her is Sharon. And Billy is out too.”

Agatha breathes in and out, slow and steady. She can do this.

“And Cooper is out. Kamala is out. We’re dropping like flies here!”

And so it goes. More people drop. Agatha’s arm burns. The skull on Rio’s bicep grows bigger. Sweat drips down the vein that is popping in Rio’s neck.

“Darcy is out. Alice is out. We are at one hour of this challenge.”

The sun is hot today. Agatha hasn’t had a full meal in two weeks. She’s desperately afraid she will be voted out before the merge, and she has to watch her ex’s sweaty muscles gleam in the sunlight. This has got to be one of those circles hell her mother used to drone on about.

“Peter Q’s arm is shaking, he’s almost out and… there it goes. Peter Q is out. And Jen is also out, seemingly from laughing too hard at Peter Q.”

“No regrets,” Jen says cheerily.

“We are at the 90 minute mark,” Jeff calls, the bastard. “For Ankara we have Shaun and Carol and Agatha left standing, and for Sivos we have Rio, Peter P., and Jimmy.”

Agatha closes her eyes. She lets Jeff’s words become white noise, lets the image of Rio become nothing. Once, she tried meditation and it made her want to rip out her eyeballs. But when she’s in the unique pain of a Survivor challenge, Agatha can somehow make her mind go to its happy place or whatever. She pictures all 15 other people in this game getting their torches snuffed. She pictures the horror on their faces. Pictures herself on one of the morning shows, Jeff handing on an oversized check for a million dollars.

“And there goes Peter P.,” Jeff is saying faintly, “leaving Rio the last person standing on Sivos, winning individual immunity for her tribe.”

Agatha snaps back to the present. Of course Rio won. Ugh.

“Rio,” Jeff is saying, “you could drop and still be immune. Or you could hold on and win a feast for your tribe.”

“Well, Jeff,” Rio says, looking directly at Agatha, “I am hungry. I think I’ll stay up.”

Agatha rolls her eyes. What an asshole. Absently, she hears water splash in the background.

“And now, two hours into this challenge, it’s just Carol and Agatha left for Ankara.”

Agatha spares a glance at Carol. She’s strong, sturdy, the way only a dyke who served in the military can be. Her wife was also one of those army broads, if Agatha recalls. Carol’s one to watch for. She gives Agatha a nod, a sign of respect. Agatha doesn’t respect a single bitch out here, but she nods back. Let Carol think Agatha cares about her. Let Carol think that they have some rah rah lesbian sisterhood bond, and then Carol can be heartbroken when Agatha votes her out.

As for now, Agatha goes a different route. She keeps eye contact with Carol, and then, suddenly, flicks her eyes over Carol's shoulder, like something big and shocking is happening behind her. It works. Carol turns, curiosity getting the best of her, following Agatha’s gaze just enough until—

“And just like that, Carol is out of the challenge. Incredible effort. And Agatha wins immunity for Ankara.”

Agatha grins. She keeps her arm stock still. That’s fucking right. She’s fucking safe. None of these imbeciles will be writing her name down at tribal tonight. Rio won’t get the satisfaction of outlasting Agatha out here. God, this whole season has built so slow and she’s surrounded by people she hates, but fuck, it feels good to win. It feels good to remember why she’s doing this.

“Now it becomes a one-on-one battle,” Jeff is narrating. “Rio and Agatha both trying to win reward for their tribe.”

Agatha is going to kick Rio’s ass. She couldn’t give a shit about a feast for her tribe, but she cannot let Rio Vidal beat her.

“Wow,” she drawls. “You’re doing really good, baby.”

“Agatha…” Rio warns.

Agatha looks up to see Rio red in the face from both exertion and annoyance. Perfect.

“What?” Agatha asks innocently. “Can I not compliment you? Can I not say you’re doing so well at the challenge? That you’re being such a good girl?”

“I will fucking kill you,” Rio grits out, the color rising even more on her face, spreading down to her chest. Annoyance and exertion joined by something a little more fun, if Agatha had to guess.

Agatha pouts at her.

“Seems like your hands are tied on that one.”

Rio growls at her. Frustratingly, her hand stays steady.

“Sparks are flying!” Jeff announces, like the meddling little bitch he is. “Old alliances, old rivalries… seems like there’s a lot more at stake here than a barbecue dinner.”

“I don’t know what you’re referring to, Jeffrey,” Agatha says, eyes still on Rio. “I’m here for my new tribe. To win them food. Because they deserve it.”

“Give me a fucking break,” Rio says. “The day you have tribal loyalty is the day I star in a one woman production of Anything Goes.”

“Better get your tap shoes ready, honey,” Agatha says sweetly. Her arm is killing her.

“You have both been up here for almost three hours,” Jeff tells them. “Both excelling in this challenge, having already won individual immunity.”

Agatha smiles at Rio. She knows it must drive her crazy that Agatha has guaranteed safety.

“How’s your arm doing?” Agatha asks Rio. “That little skull doing okay?”

“I’m fine,” Rio snaps.

“You always had such… endurance,” Agatha says. “Especially in your right wrist. God, I have so many great memories of what your right wrist can do.”

Rio’s blush intensifies. “This is going on national television.”

“Yeah, probably not that part,” Jeff admits, still sporting his TV host grin.

“There is a lot of stuff they cut out last time,” Agatha muses. She winks at Rio.

Rio clears her throat. She’s close, Agatha can tell, she’s so close to dropping it. Her brow is completely covered in sweat, hair sticking to her forehead. The veins are popping in her neck. The skull on her bicep looks like a community theater production of Hamlet tossed it around one too many times. And her eyes—the deep brown of Rio’s eyes are intense and focused and staring directly at Agatha, unblinking. The focus makes Agatha sweat, makes her unsteady in a way only Rio’s attention can.

Suddenly, out of nowhere, Agatha is drenched, a tankful of water coming down on her head.

“Fuck,” she yells. She had this. She was sure she had this. Maybe a bug landed on her, that’s the only reason she can think of that she dropped the water. It definitely wasn’t Rio—wasn’t Rio’s intense gaze and flexed arms that made Agatha’s body stutter like that.

“Agatha is out of this challenge, and Sivos wins reward,” Jeff is yelling. “Rio now has both immunity and reward for her tribe.”

Agatha hears Rio laughing as she releases her own tank on herself. Agatha doesn’t dare look over there, won’t give Rio the satisfaction.

It doesn't matter anyway. Jeff places the immunity necklace around Agatha’s neck and she breathes out a long sigh. Who cares that they won’t be feasting tonight? At least Agatha has secured safety.

Plus, immunity makes her an asset, actually gives her value. Who cares if Rio won the stupid challenge? Not Agatha, that’s for sure.

The tribe barely makes it back to camp before Agatha is essentially accosted by Shaun and Big Peter, cornering her down by the beach.

“So we were thinking,” Shaun says, “that the three original Ankara members should stick together.”

“After you boys lost a challenge just so you could vote me out?” Agatha asks, blinking innocently up at them.

They at least have the grace to look uncomfortable.

“Listen,” Peter says, "it's a numbers game. And a strength game. We can admit we were idiots.”

Agatha crosses her arms, one of which still hurts like a bitch, and nods at them to go on.

“Every one else in this tribe has basically lost every challenge,” Shaun says, “I think we can build a case for voting people out based on weakness. Like, Billy and Sharon seem great, but are they really pulling their weight?”

“Who’s Sharon?” Agatha asks, genuinely. She really thought she had a handle on this new tribe, but that name does not ring a bell.

“Older lady,” Peter says, “seems super nice, but like…”

“Hmm,” Agatha says. “I’ll think about it.”

“If we have the three of us,” Shaun says, “we really only need two more votes. Maybe Cooper? Maybe Carol? Keep the tribe strong.”

This is why men shouldn’t play Survivor. Even being on this tribe for 24 hours, Agatha already knows that this plan won’t work. The five former Loved Ones are looking out for each other; they have that sentimental loyalty that comes from being literal losers. The only one whose loyalty could falter is Billy, due to his idiotic hero worship of Agatha. And these guys are suggesting him for the chopping block just because he’s not strong in challenges. The idiocy.

“Let me talk to Carol,” Agatha says. She tries not to smile to hard. Both guys grin at her. Suckers.

“Can I be real with you?” Agatha says once she gets Carol alone.

“I don’t know, can you?” Carol asks. “Isn’t your whole thing kind of being a liar?”

“This is Survivor,” Agatha says with a wave of her hand that isn’t still in pain, “everybody lies. But this isn’t strategy talk.” A lie. “This is something I just wanted to let you in on, woman to woman.” Also a lie.

Carol raises an eyebrow, but nods at Agatha to go on.

“Shaun and Peter are playing this game like bullies,” Agatha says. She makes her voice catch a little. Not enough for it to be obvious that she’s faking it, but enough that it seems like she’s trying to cover up her emotions. “They were bullies back on my old tribe and they are bullies here. Listen, I know I’m a handful, but they lost on purpose during the last immunity challenge just so they could vote me out. And now that all their allies are gone, they want me to team up with them just to vote the ‘weaker’ members out of the tribe.” All technically true.

Carol bristles. “What do you mean, weaker?”

“They said Sharon, Billy, and Kamala,” Agatha says. Two truths and a lie on that one. But she knows that saying Kamala will get Carol riled up; has seen the way Carol is protective of Kamala, reminds Agatha of how she was protective of—

“Oh, hell no,” Carol says. “Fuck those guys.”

Hook. Line. Sinker.

“And look,” Agatha says. “I know I’m an outsider here. But I would rather play with you all than with those tools from my old tribe. Weaker players, my ass.”

“Exactly,” Carol says. She’s fired up now. Listening to her sense of righteousness over her sense of logic. Perfect. “Misogynistic, homophobic, ageist...”

“Say it, sister,” Agatha says, grinning. They really never learn.

It’s not until they are almost at tribal council that the teen approaches Agatha again, with a woman Agatha assumes is Sharon beside him.

“Oh my god,” he gushes, “how did you do it?”

“Well, I have incredible arm strength,” Agatha says.

“Not the challenge,” Billy says. “You got Carol on your side.”

Agatha grins. “I just love looking out for other women.”

“Well, isn’t that lovely,” Sharon says. She’s about a foot shorter than the teen, with a wide and grating smile. “You know, you were on a season with my husband.”

“Wow, Shannon!” Agatha instills false enthusiasm into her voice. “How cool.”

“Sharon,” Sharon corrects, not unkindly. “He was on Old Blood vs. New Blood with you. He was the Old Blood.”

“Obviously.”

“Do you remember a Todd? Todd Davis?”

Agatha, for more reasons than she can count, chooses not to reflect on that season. And even if she did, she’s positive she wouldn’t remember a Todd.

“It rings a bell,” Agatha lies.

“He made it pretty far,” Sharon says, “but then that darn Wanda blindsided him!”

The name feels like a bucket of cold water over Agatha’s head even more so than the literal bucket of cold water poured over her head earlier.

“Do me a favor Shira—”

“Sharon.”

“Don’t bring up that name again, if you know what’s good for you.”

Sharon swallows. The teen, as well, looks supremely uncomfortable. Good. If it makes them not talk about that bitch anymore, then that’s perfect.

“So anyway,” Billy says, clearing his throat, “we came up here to tell you that the vote’s on Peter tonight.”

“Wonderful,” Agatha says.

“And,” he continues, quieter, while Sharon leans down to tie her shoe, “I meant what I said earlier, about working together.”

“I know you did, kid,” Agatha says with a smile she’s not even faking. “You were very unsubtle about it.”

He grins. “Just think about it!”

And Agatha does think about it. She thinks about it all through tribal, where Jeff pokes and prods and Agatha watches Rio eat ribs while staring at her. She thinks about it when she goes up to write Peter’s name down. She thinks about it when Peter gets his torch snuffed and loudly yells “come on!”

This is a game of deception. And here is an innocent lamb to slaughter, this kid who admires her for some godforsaken reason, who falsely believes in his idol, both the physical one and Agatha herself. Agatha would be a fool not to use him. It doesn’t matter what happened last time she teamed up with a kid like him. That’s irrelevant. What matters is playing the game. What matters is a million dollars waiting for her at the end of all this.

So when they get back to camp, she finds Billy, takes him just far enough away so no one can hear, and whispers, “don’t make me regret this.”

His face lights up in the moonlight. “You won’t!” he enthuses. “I promise you won’t regret this.”

But you will, Agatha thinks. Everyone who teams up with her in this game always regrets it. That’s how this works. And this kid is no exception.

Chapter Text

Day 15

Alice isn’t going to lie, it’s nice as hell being on a tribe that knows what they’re doing.

By the time Alice wakes up, Jen has gotten the fire started and Lilia is working on rice for breakfast, while Jimmy and Rio go fishing. Alice makes herself useful by collecting firewood, while Darcy and Monica go on a quest for coconuts. Everyone works almost too well together on this beach, it’s startlingly close to being a pleasant experience.

But if Alice is learning anything out here, it’s that all this pleasantness comes with a price.

“Wanna help me get water?” Jen asks, and Alice knows by now that getting water is code for talking strategy.

She owes a lot to Jen, she’s pretty sure, or to Lilia, or to some combination of the two. When only herself and Monica from original Sivos made it onto new Sivos, Alice was worried, to put it mildly. Especially when it seemed like Monica fell into a groove with Jimmy and Darcy immediately, and Alice, who has never been great at first impressions, just kind of sat there.

“You’re Lorna Wu’s kid, right?” Lilia asked Alice that first night, as they sat around the fire after most everyone else had gone to sleep except the two of them and Jen.

Alice wondered for the millionth time if she should just legally change her name to “Lorna Wu’s kid.” But instead of snarking anything back, Alice just nodded. She needed these people to like her.

“She talked about you,” Lilia said. “When we were out here together. Must have been almost 20 years ago at this point, but she kept talking about her kid at home, about winning the million for her family.”

“Oh,” Alice said, voice thick all of a sudden. “I didn’t really see… when that season aired, I feel like she never talked about me and Dad on air.”

“She wanted to protect you,” Lilia said. “From the public eye. Things were different back then. If you won and mentioned your kid, the paparazzi would be at your door. She wanted to keep you safe.”

“Hmm,” Alice said, afraid if she said anything else that her voice would come out scratchy and, god forbid, vulnerable.

“Ooh, more reminiscing on the past,” Jen teased. “How shocking for you, Lilia.”

Lilia laughed and the conversation moved on, but Jen looked at Alice after, briefly, like she knew something. Like she knew Alice would love to talk about anything that’s not her mother.

And then, somehow, Alice was spared from the vote last night, Little Peter going home instead. Alice still isn’t sure if it’s because Jen and Lilia felt bad for her, if Little Peter was a threat, or—and Alice is starting to suspect it’s this one—this new tribe wants to use Alice for intel.

As she and Jen tread through the jungle to get water, Alice’s suspicions are confirmed.

“So, what’s the deal with the rest of the Loved Ones tribe?” Jen asks, point blank.

Alice considers lying, but she’s always been pretty bad at it. Plus, in this game, the truth is a rare and shiny weapon that can be used.

“Well, we suck at challenges,” Alice says bluntly, which makes Jen laugh. “But there’s some camaraderie going on. Carol is very much the leader, and she was in a tight three with Kamala and Monica. So if all three of them make the merge, it could be dangerous.”

Jen nods. Alice is kind of shocked at herself, for talking Survivor so well. Billy must have rubbed off on her.

“And then there’s Billy,” Alice says, aware she’s smiling fondly. “Smart kid. Really smart kid, more than you would think looking at him. We were close, plus Sharon, who is harmless and will vote however you tell her to. And then there’s Cooper, who is just kind of coasting because he’s solid at challenges.”

They’ve arrived at the water now, Jen lowering the bottles into the well.

“So why are you telling me all this?” Jen asks, though she knows the answer.

“Because you asked,” Alice says, rolling her eyes. “We don’t have to do this bullshit Survivor roundabout conversation. You asked me because you want to know if I’m worth keeping. And I am. I just told you I have Billy and Sharon on my side. We’ll need numbers when we get to the merge, so…”

“Oh, so we’re a we now,” Jen says, but she’s smiling.

Alice nods. This shit is hard, but she thinks she’s kind of nailing it. “I mean, yeah.” She channels what Billy has taught her. “You want to go to the end with people you can beat, right? Who is more beatable, a college dropout, a skinny gay kid, and a clueless housewife, or people who are actually good at this game like Jimmy and Monica?”

Jen looks at her, searching.

“So your argument is that you and your allies suck, so I should team up with you.”

“Exactly,” Alice says, laughing a little. “I have yet to win a challenge.”

“Oh, that will change today,” Jen says, hoisting the water over her shoulder. “The other guys don’t stand a chance.”

Alice sure fucking hopes so.

“So?” Alice asks, trying to stop herself from being too eager. “What do you think?”

“So… what? Top five, you, me, Lilia, Sharon, Billy?”

Alice nods, like that was her plan this whole tine. She had not been thinking that far ahead, but hey, it sounds like a pretty sweet deal.

“It’s not a bad idea,” Jen says. “But there’s a little problem.”

“Which is?”

“Agatha Harkness.”

Alice has to stop herself from rolling her eyes. These people love a first name-last name. All Alice really knows about Agatha Harkness is that Billy is obsessed with her, she’s kind of a bitch, and she and Rio probably just need to bone it out, considering how they were looking at each other during that last challenge.

“Don’t let her get too close to that kid,” Jen says, ominous. “She has something about her, no matter how many people she screws over, she sticks around like a cockroach in this game. In Old Blood vs New Blood she got really close with this other young guy, Nick. Used him to get through to the merge and then, bam, his torch was snuffed.”

“Be careful, Jennifer.”

Alice grabs Jen’s arm in shock when the voice sounds from the trees, only for Rio Vidal to pop out of the jungle, brandishing the machete.

“What the fuck?” Alice yelps.

Jen seems nonplussed by the whole thing.

“Hey, Rio,” she says in a monotone, then, turning to Alice, “she does this.”

Alice nods, lets go of Jen’s arm, willing her heart to stop beating so fast.

Rio just looks at Jen, tilts her head to the side, grip firm on the machete.

“You shouldn't speak on things you know nothing about,” she says to Jen.

Jen bristles, crosses her arms. “What? About Agatha? Aren’t you her number one hater?”

Rio laughs. “That doesn’t mean I want people spreading lies about her.”

“I wasn’t—”

“Just think about what you say.”

Then Rio takes one of the waters Jen was filling, drinks it, and saunters back into the jungle as quickly as she came.

“Dude, what?” Alice asks once Rio is (hopefully) out of hearing range.

“Yeah, that’s Rio,” Jen says.

“Jesus,” Alice says. “You know back on the Loved Ones tribes, watching you guys, I thought she was, like, insanely hot. But now I’m just sticking to the insane part.”

Jen laughs, long and loud, the tension from Rio’s cryptic warning dissipating.

“I’m right there with you,” Jens says, grinning at Alice. “Come on, let’s get back to camp.”

If Alice had seen the movie more than in the background on cable, this would be the time to quote that line from the end of Casablanca, something about the beginning of a beautiful friendship. But Alice really doesn’t know this movie that well. Instead, she just hoists the water over her shoulder, tries to ignore the uneasy feeling from Rio’s words, and hopes to god that this conversation at least gets her to the merge.

Day 16

Billy would love to win a challenge someday, he really would. The only challenge his tribe ever won was apparently thrown by the other team, so his track record is pretty abysmal.

After their most recent loss, the five former Loved Ones are all sit around the fire, voices hushed. Not that it matters. Billy is one hundred percent going to report everything he hears back to Agatha, and he’s sure Shaun is going to get wind of it too.

“Shaun tonight,” Carol says definitively.

Billy breathes out. Easy.

“Are we sure voting Shaun is the right call?” Cooper asks.

Cooper, for all intents and purposes, should have been someone Billy got along with from the start, both younger guys who had a parent compete on the show within the last decade. But Cooper is too much of an uninspired straight boy to have ever been Billy’s ally. His favorite players of all time are his own father and Steve Rogers. Literally could not be more boring.

Especially when he says, “Doesn’t it make more sense to vote off Agatha?”

Billy has to stop himself from reacting physically. Someone as uninteresting as Cooper Barton is not going to ruin Billy’s big plans.

Luckily, Carol shakes her head. “Listen, I know Agatha is… a lot, but Shaun and Peter went after our own in here. We have to vote them out first. And if we lose again, then Agatha goes.”

“Fine,” Cooper says, “but I don’t think we should trust her. At all.”

“Coop,” Carol says kindly, “no one is trusting Agatha Harkness out here. Trust me on that.”

“So everyone is saying Shaun this tribal and you next tribal,” Billy tells Agatha minutes later, as they go to collect firewood.

“Let me guess,” Agatha says, “Carol’s making the call.”

Billy nods. Agatha grins.

“You know, it’s too easy sometimes, Teen.”

Agatha keeps refusing to call Billy by his actual name. It’s kind of thrilling. His favorite player has gifted him a nickname.

“So I figure,” Billy says, attempting and failing to pick up a large log, “we do Shaun tonight, and then you can use my idol next tribal if we need to? Maybe we get them to split the vote?”

Agatha chuckles. She sits down on the log Billy couldn’t lift, leaning forward, elbows on her knees.

“Sweet, innocent, naive little Teen,” she teases. Billy doesn’t know if he should be insulted or flattered. He’s a little of both. “Let me drop some wisdom.”

“Please do,” Billy says, grinning. “I’m here to learn.”

“Never plan to play your idol unless it’s an absolute necessity. That thing’s like gold out here. And don’t get rid of a person just because someone else wants you to.”

“I don’t follow,” Billy says, honestly. He sits on the forest floor so he’s at Agatha’s level. “So we don’t vote out Shaun? It feels like everyone is in agreement to vote out Shaun.”

“Exactly,” Agatha says. “That’s when you strike. No one else will see it coming. Tell me, Teen, who is more dangerous if they get to the merge, Shaun, whose two closest allies went home? Or someone like Carol, who is a kind and diplomatic leader who has friends on the other tribe?”

Billy feels his eyebrows shoot up. “Carol? You want to get rid of Carol? I thought you just got her on your side.”

“That’s the best time to get rid of someone, Teen.”

Billy just stares at her, jaw dropped. She’s right, is the thing. Of course she’s right. If they make the merge and Carol is reunited with Monica, then they would be able to go forward with any new allies Monica had made, plus Kamala and Cooper, giving them at least a strong four, and maybe even a strong six. And nothing is more powerful than entering a merge with a strong six.

Agatha must misinterpret his silence because she rolls her eyes.

“Jesus, kid, I thought I was your favorite player. Are you surprised that I’m actually playing the game?”

“No, no, no,” Billy hurries, “I love it. I think you’re right. This is awesome.”

“Awesome,” Agatha mimics, but there’s a smile at the corner of her mouth. Billy wouldn’t bet money on it, but he’s pretty sure Agatha at least kind of likes him. Which is the dream.

“So,” he says, trying not to be too giddy with it, “Carol tonight.”

“Carol tonight,” Agatha repeats. “We only need four votes. We have you and me, I’m sure you can get Shirley—”

“Sharon.”

“And then I’ll talk to Shaun.”

Billy raises his eyebrows. “You can get Shaun? Didn’t you just have his best ally voted out?”

“It’s Survivor, Teen. Your worst enemy becomes your best friend if you need their vote, and your best friend goes packing if you need them too. That’s the game.”

“Right,” Billy says, swallowing. “Of course.”

It’s a perfect game move, it’s exactly what he wanted. But still, he has to prepare himself for how Kamala is going to look at him after her number one ally goes packing. He really likes Kamala, has from the start, both of them matching each other’s rabid obsession with Survivor. One of their first nights out here, they both stayed up way too late, jovially arguing over their favorite players and the best seasons. And even though they were in different sub-alliances back in Sivos; they’ve always voted the same. Until now. Until Billy is about to vote out her number one ally.

But that’s the game. To cite a cliche, Billy didn’t come here to make friends. He came here to play and to win. And to do it with Agatha Harkness. He came here to learn the game from her and there’s no way in hell he’s backing out now, just because things are starting to get real.

After he got the call that he would actually be going on Surivivor, Billy practically begged his mom to teach him her ways, to impart wisdom on him on how she did so well. And she refused.

“Billy, it’s just a game out there,” she said. “And honestly, I’m not proud of how I played. I don’t want you to grow up thinking of ways to screw other people over.”

“Not in real life,” he whined, “just in Survivor. Mom, you were great at it. Teach me.”

But his mom shook her head. “Just be careful out there. I know you idolize… certain players, but watch your back.”

Billy rolled his eyes. His mom has never keep it a secret how much she doesn’t like Agatha, and it’s clear that the feeling is mutual. But Billy doesn’t care. Agatha can give him something that his mom couldn’t; she can give him the skills to win this game.

“So it’s four on Carol,” Agatha is saying, “three on Shaun, and Carol’s gone. Then, until the merge, we have those four strong votes to do whatever we want.”

“Wow,” Billy says. “You really are brilliant.”

“Obviously,” Agatha says, grinning.

“Hey, maybe you’re the one they should be calling ‘Death.’”

This, Billy realizes immediately, is the wrong thing to say. Agatha’s grin quickly hardness into a frown.

“No,” she says coldly, “I think that nickname went to the right person.”

Day 21

Rio is bored. It’s so boring being on a tribe where everyone gets along and wins challenges and helps out around camp. She’s sure the producers are shitting themselves trying to mine drama from this. They’ll probably devote a whole five minute segment to when Lilia showed them all her weird toe yesterday.

In the week since the tribe swap, Rio has done two productive things. One, she went to tree mail at the Sivos camp, easily found the other immunity idol, and placed it in her bag. Two, she has quickly observed and made note of all the dynamics that have formed and flourished in this tribe. It’s one big happy family, of course, but if they ever go to tribal, it will be three on three and Rio is going to have to be the swing vote, deciding on whether to side with Jimmy/Darcy/Monica or Alice/Jen/Lilia. All while Jen and Darcy pretend they are still allies. But Rio is pretty sure she won’t have to actually make that decision, because they keep fucking winning. It’s annoying.

What’s even more annoying, infuriating really, is that every time they step out on the beach, and Jeff announces in his smarmy voice who went home, it’s never who Rio wants it to be.

“Take a look at the new Ankara tribe, Peter Q. voted out last night!”

“Take a look at the new Ankara tribe, Carol voted out last night!”

“Take a look at the new Ankara tribe, Kamala voted out last night!”

What Rio wouldn’t give to have Jeff open his mostly silicone mouth and declare, “take a look at the new Ankara tribe, Agatha voted out last night.”

But that won’t happen. Of course that won’t happen. Agatha’s too fucking good at this game.

Even though—and Rio hates to admit it—there is a not insignificant part of her that is glad that Agatha’s still here. There is a part of her that won’t be satisfied until it’s her writing down Agatha’s name, until Agatha looks at her, beautiful face filled with shock and betrayal that Rio is the one who bested her. No one else.

So, yeah, whatever, it’s fine. Let Agatha keep coming to the challenges with a permanent smarmy grin, standing next to that dumb teenager that she’s probably grown far too attached to.

When the merge comes, Rio will go claim what is hers.

The immunity challenge for today, either the last or the penultimate one before the merge, if Rio’s math is correct, is one of the dumber challenges Survivor has to offer. Rio loves it.

Production has created what can generously be called a pit of mud in the woods, with a round wooden platform in the middle. Essentially, they have to fight one-on-one on the platform, trying to knock each other into the mud. First team to five wins.

“This is barbaric,” Jen remarks.

“This is hot,” Darcy says.

“This is Survivor," Jeff concludes. “First up, Shaun versus Jimmy, let’s go!”

It’s pretty evenly matched at first. Shaun manages to out muscle Jimmy, then Darcy clearly almost feels bad for how easily she pushes Sharon into the mud. Cooper and Monica go at each other for a while, until Cooper finally gets the upper hand on her, and then Alice easily pushes Billy into the mud, even though she helps him up with a grin after.

“And we are tied 2-2,” Jeff announces. “From Ankara, Agatha steps into the ring, and from Sivos, it’s Rio.”

Rio’s had dreams like this. Not dreams appropriate for primetime television, but dreams nonetheless, herself, of Agatha, and of a pit of mud.

They circle each other on the platform, like two alley cats fighting over a carcass of meat. But the carcass of meat is the remnants of what they used to mean to each other.

Agatha attacks first, always so impatient, and Rio quickly sidesteps her.

“Come on, sweetheart,” Rio mocks, low and slow, “I know you can do better than that.”

Agatha growls at her, a low rumbling in her chest. Rio is very familiar with the sound. When Agatha attacks again, Rio is ready for her. She doesn’t dodge this time, but faces Agatha head on, braces her hands against Agatha’s shoulders and pushes her off.

“You’re fighting like a pussy,” Agatha declares.

“Thought you liked that,” Rio says with a raise of her eyebrows.

Agatha comes at her again, harder, and this time Rio does fight back, grabbing Agatha’s waist and pushing her off.

Even the brief contact of her hand on Agatha’s bare stomach makes Rio feel a little dizzy. Agatha’s starting to get Survivor abs, and Rio can feel them, the way her muscles flex under Rio’s hand. One of Rio’s favorite things during that one year—that one glorious and impossible year—where they were actually together outside of Survivor, was when Agatha's Survivor abs disappeared, and Rio got to watch and feel and taste that precious layer of fat that came back once Agatha was well fed and well rested. Kissing the swell of her belly, the fullness of her thighs, a softness that can only exist in the real world.

But they aren’t in the real world anymore. Agatha’s body is getting hard and taut again, and right now, it is an obstacle. Rio uses her momentum to push Agatha to the ground, her back falling against the wood.

“Now you’re getting it,” Agatha purrs from beneath her.

There’s already mud on the platform and it has found its way onto both of their skin. There is a wet streak of mud on Agatha’s neck and Rio has to stop staring at it. She wants to lick it off. Which is probably not the best thought to have when she’s hovering above Agatha, just needing to push her a little further toward the edge of that platform.

With another growl, Agatha pushes up against Rio, hard, and now Rio’s on her back, even closer to the edge of the platform than Agatha was seconds ago. Fuck.

Rio doesn’t give up, rolling Agatha toward the center, only for Agatha to push her back.

“And they seem to just be rolling around out there,” Jeff announces. “It’s anyone’s game!”

Rio is finding it increasingly hard to focus on Jeff or the challenge or anything else other than this, their increasingly mud-covered bodies pressing into each other and then pulling back and pushing forward. Rio can see Agatha panting, her chest rising and falling, her breath catching, her eyes hungry.

Rio tries to stand up, tries to gain the upper hand, but Agatha pulls her down by the arm, crawls on top of her. Agatha’s knee—disastrously—finds its way between Rio's thighs, and Rio—even more disastrously—makes a small sound in the back of her throat when she feels the pressure of it.

She’s pretty sure the cameras don’t notice, pretty sure that Jeff doesn’t notice, pretty sure the other contestants don’t notice.

But Agatha notices. Agatha stops in her tracks, a smile spreading over her dirty face. She moves her knee just a touch more, just an inch higher, and Rio is might fucking die of embarrassment right here in this stupid fucking mud. Because a strangled sort of whine escapes her mouth, sonic evidence of just how much she likes this. And she reallly fucking likes how it feels to be on her back, covered in mud, with Agatha pressing down on her. And Agatha knows it. God, Rio needs to swim out into the ocean and never come back.

Agatha leans down, hands flat on the wood on either side of Rio’s face, and whispers in her ear, so softly that even the mics can’t pick it up, “this is turning you on, isn’t it?”

Rio doesn’t say anything, just tries to breathe. But it comes out rough and heavy, which is only proving Agatha’s point.

“You sick fuck,” Agatha says gleefully. Then she climbs off of Rio and easily pushes her into the mud.

“And that’s a point for Ankara!” Jeff shouts, unaware that Rio is undergoing psychosexual torture. “Ankara leads Sivos 3-2!”

Rio pulls herself out of the mud and sits on the sidelines, stewing. Also still a little turned on. She wills herself not to look over at Agatha and fails.

Agatha, of course, is grinning at her, leaning back on her hands, exposing more of her bare skin. She knows exactly what she’s doing. She’s the sick fuck.

Rio barely pays attention to the rest of challenge until Jeff announces, “and we are tied again. Four points each. This final match will do it.”

Rio sees Agatha get up, and feels herself climbing to her feet as well.

“Put me in,” she says to Monica, who was about to step into the ring.

“You’re sure?” Monica asks. “Trust me, I have a bone to pick with her too.”

Rio doesn’t give a fuck that Agatha elimated Monica’s step-mommy or whatever.

“Put me in,” she insists.

Monica just raises her eyebrows and steps back.

And then they’re back on the platform. Rio knows she’s absolutely caked in mud, while Agatha still has only a tasteful amount on her.

“You got a little something,” Agatha says sweetly.

Rio bares her teeth at her.

“And it’s on!” Jeff is saying. “This will determine who wins immunity.”

Immunity is the last thing on Rio’s mind. She has to beat Agatha.

“Surprised you’re back up here, baby,” Agatha says, voice pitched low in the way she knows Rio likes, “I thought you would have to cool down.”

“I’m cool,” Rio says evenly. She isn’t.

They’re circling each other again, drawing minutely closer, neither one making the first move.

“Your tribe is getting smaller,” Rio muses.

“Oh don’t worry about me,” Agatha says, “I’m doing just fine.”

“I’m sure you are,” Rio says, “you and that kid, right?”

At this, Agatha’s posture changes, her easy confidence morphing into hard defensiveness.

“Stay out of it,” she warns, voice low.

“Gladly,” Rio says, drawing closer. “But you know it’s the merge soon, right? You know it’s about to become my business.”

Agatha glares at her. Rio knows she’s treading in dangerous territory, but Agatha played dirty, so now it’s Rio’s turn.

“You better keep a close eye on him,” Rio says, like the thought just occurred to her. “We wouldn’t want… well, we wouldn’t want what happened to Ni-”

Agatha lunges at her, right on cue. Rio easily dodges, then pushes on Agatha’s back, gently enough as not to hurt, but hard enough that Agatha’s own momentum lands her straight into the mud.

“And Sivos wins immunity!” Jeff declares.

Rio is vaguely aware of her tribe cheering her on, but is less focused on that, more on Agatha emerging from the mud like a vengeful swamp demon.

Rio, in a fit of stupidity disguised as chivalry, squats down, offers her hand to Agatha to help her up.

To Rio’s shock, Agatha takes the offered hand. Then she uses it to pull Rio into the mud alongside her. Yeah, that makes more sense.

Rio staggers to her feet, spitting the mud out of her mouth. Agatha grins at her, wiping the mud off her face. She’s beautiful like this. Rio isn’t dumb enough to say it, but even fully covered in mud, Agatha Harkness is striking in a way Rio didn’t know another person could be until she met Agatha.

Even when she says, low and hard, “when we get to the merge, I will fucking end you.”

Rio shrugs. “Good luck with that. Hey, what do they call me again? It sure as hell isn’t ‘Life.’”

“Please,” Agatha scoffs, “that’s bullshit.”

“I’ll remember you said that when Jeff’s snuffing your torch,” Rio says with a grin. “Enjoy tribal tonight.”

The walk back to camp is excruciating, even with everyone’s spirits high, confident all seven of them will make the merge, peddling the false narrative that alliances aren’t about to instantly shift when old friends and enemies are reunited.

As soon as they make it back, Rio heads to the ocean to rinse off. Everyone else is washing off in a little circle, chatting, but Rio swims by them, fast and purposeful. She swims into a wave, letting the saltwater burn her eyes as she scrubs the mud off her face.

Everyone is right, of course, the merge is soon. And with the merge, Agatha comes back. Rio needs to prepare. Barely ten minutes of physical contact today nearly broke her; she has to get ready to have Agatha in her space again, in her head again.

Rio dives under the water as far as she can go, holding her breath, letting it cool down her still racing heart. She finally comes up for air, breathing hard. She can do this. She can play the game with Agatha again, full time, 24/7. She was doing it just eight days ago. And she can do it again. She has to do it again. And, god help her, she’s very much looking forward to doing it again.

Maybe she is a sick fuck after all.

Chapter Text

Day 22

The boat comes in early in the morning.

Billy is still wiping the crust out of his eyes when Shaun looks out to the horizon and squints at it.

“Do you see what I see, kid?” he asks.

Billy blinks the rest of his sleep away and looks out to the water to see a boat fast approaching. There’s a sound now too, the hum of a motor speeding toward them. As it draws closer, Billy can make out eight figures. A bubbling anticipation starts to rise in his stomach.

“Oh, shit,” he says.

“Oh, shit,” Shaun echoes. “It’s the motherfucking merge.”

Sure enough, the boat comes ashore, carrying the seven Sivos members and one energetic Jeff Probst.

Billy might throw up from excitement. It’s like Christmas morning. Well, he’s Jewish, but he imagines it’s how Christmas morning must feel. But way better.

Especially once everyone is gathered on the beach and Jeff says those three words that every little boy dreams of hearing.

“Drop your buffs!” It’s happening, it’s happening, it’s happening. “You are now one tribe.”

Billy could scream for joy. He does, in fact, scream for joy. He did it. He made it to the merge. Even with his lack of muscle tone and constantly being on the losing tribe, he made it.

Jeff’s announcement is immediately followed by general hubbub and chaos, joyous shouts heard down the beach as everyone hurries to embrace old allies or to introduce themselves to potential new ones. Billy makes a beeline to Alice and hugs her tight.

“We both made it,” he breathes. “I can’t believe it.”

Alice laughs. “I can,” she says with a grin. God, she’s so cool. God, Billy missed her.

“I have a lot to catch you up on,” he whispers in her ear.

“Me too,” she says.

Billy is giddy, overflowing with it. This is the merge. He made it. He made it to the real start of the game, where the stakes are high and one wrong move could send you home.

After letting go of Alice, Billy finds himself face to face with Lilia Calderu, who he’s been watching on TV since he was in the womb.

“It’s such an honor to meet you,” Billy gushes. “I’m a huge fan.”

Lilia chuckles at him. “I’m sure you are,” she says.

Then he’s jostled toward Jen Kale, who is truly stunning up close, so much so that Billy feels his own acne acutely in comparison to her flawless skin.

“Hi, wow, I’m Billy,” he rambles incoherently. “I'm such a big fan, you were so amazing on Cayman Islands.”

“Thanks, kid,” Jen says, raising an eyebrow.

“Wow, Teen,” Agatha drawls from behind him. “I thought I was special, but you’re like this with everyone.”

“You are special!” Billy insists. He’s a little overwhelmed.

“Oh, don’t indulge in her bullshit,” Jen says, waving a hand. “Agatha, can’t say I’m thrilled that you made it this far.”

“The feeling’s mutual,” Agatha says with an overly sweet smile.

“I’d watch my back if I were you,” Jen says with her own smile. “Your little girlfriend has gotten very fond of that knife.”

Billy turns his head to Rio, who he is a little too scared to introduce himself to. Unlike everyone else, hugging and chatting and reuniting, Rio is standing off to the side, observing. Observing him, Billy realizes with a prick of unease in his stomach.

“Oh, don’t pay her any mind,” Agatha says, like she knows what Billy is thinking. She slings an arm over his shoulder. “She’s just jealous.”

One of the best things about the merge is that it comes with a feast. The Ankara camp, which is now everyone’s camp, is suddenly filled with all the food a 19-year-old who has been surviving off of solely rice and clams and coconuts could dream of. There are mountains of bread, skewers of meats, cubes of cheese, piles of fresh fruit, a giant chocolate cake. Billy feels like he might be in heaven.

“Ooh, wine!” Sharon says, because there are also two gigantic jugs of wine.

“None for you, Teen,” Agatha says, wagging a finger at him. “Not until you’re of age.”

Billy rolls his eyes. He wasn't planning on drinking anyway. He needs to have his wits about him. He has a mission.

The mission is as follows: get a strong six together today. Before the next immunity challenge, before others have time to do the same. There are 11 players in this new tribe, and if he gets six, then that’s an immediate majority. He’s pretty sure he has four already: Sharon has been voting with him this whole time. Agatha, whether she admits it or not, is his ally, strategically talking through every vote with him. And then of course, there’s Alice, who has been with him since the beginning. If Alice has made only two connections on her new tribe, then that’s six. Then they’re golden.

”We need a tribe name,” Darcy declares, a chicken leg in one hand while the other holds up a jug of wine.

“We could combine names,” Jimmy suggests, “Ankos? Sivara? No, those sucks. Anyone speak other languages? Got any ideas from that?”

“Idiotas,” Rio suggests, deadpan.

“Okay, don’t need google translate for that one,” Jimmy says, chuckling.

“白痴,” Shaun offers. After a beat, he admits, “that also means idiots.”

Everyone laughs. Billy is having fun. His belly is full and he made the merge and he likes everyone that he’s here with. Which is crazy. There’s normally at least one person who everyone wants to get rid of at this point. Well, maybe there still is that person, but Billy isn’t letting them vote out Agatha.

“Vuvale,” Lilia says out of nowhere. “It means family in Fijian.”

“You speak Fijian?” Jen asks, impressed. “Damn, Lilia, you’re full of secrets.”

Lilia just shrugs, almost elegantly. “You pick up a few things out here.”

“Well, I think that’s beautiful,” Sharon says loudly, deep into one of the wine jugs. “Family. Vuvale.”

“I agree,” Agatha declares. Everyone looks at her in shock. “What? It’s a beautiful word. Especially because it sounds a little like—”

“Don’t finish that thought, Harkness,” Jen warns.

Out of the corner of his eye, Billy sees Rio laughing, eyes warm.

“To Vuvale!” Darcy declares, lifting the wine that isn’t in Sharon’s clutches.

“Vuvale!” They all echo.

But they’re not family. Not really. Alliances will be torn and bridges will be burned before next tribal. And Billy can’t fucking wait.

As soon as he has a moment, Billy gets Alice alone, under the guise of getting water for a wine-drunk Sharon.

“Tell me everything,” Billy squeals when they get to the well.

Alice mimes covering her lips and then pokes around in the foliage. Billy shoots her a look.

“You never know who’s listening,” Alice says seriously.

Once she’s satisfied with the lack of spies in the bushes, she turns to Billy.

“Okay,” she says, face splitting into a grin. “Take everything with a grain of salt, but I think I have Jen and Lilia.”

“Amazing,” Billy gushes. “Literally couldn’t have chosen two better people. And I still have Sharon and also Agatha. That’s six. That’s six, oh my god Alice, that’s six.”

Billy might float out of his skin. An alliance of six at the merge? Call Lizzie McGuire, because this is what dreams are made of.

But then Alice says, “dude, Agatha?”

Which is understandable. But Billy is ready. He has an argument.

“I get it,” Billy says, “I know she has a bad reputation.”

“Literally the one thing everyone can agree on out here is that they don’t trust Agatha Harkness."

“We don’t need to trust her, not really,” Billy says. “Think about it. If we have this six, Agatha kind of has to vote with us. I know that Shaun can’t stand her, even though he’s been voting with us to stay alive these past couple tribals. Monica is pissed as hell that she took out Carol and Kamala. And Rio, I mean… her whole thing is taking out Agatha. If Agatha doesn’t team up with us, she’s out. So why not use her?”

Alice looks at him, studying him.

“You really are good at this, you know.”

“Oh!” Billy might be blushing a little. “Well, Agatha has actually been teaching me a lot.”

“Oh, I’m sure that won’t bite you in the ass,” Alice says. Then she sighs, crossing her arms. “I’m not saying yes. But I’m saying you need to talk to Jen and Lilia.”

Billy shrieks with joy. Alice rolls her eyes.

“You’re the best,” Billy says. Maybe it’s the warmth of the food in his stomach or the comfort of this familiar person, but Billy blurts, “do you want to go to the end together? Like, sit at final tribal? Because I mean, you’re basically my Day One, and I think we work really well together, and I know we were just on different tribes, but I kind of feel like we could do it, if that’s maybe something—”

“Billy,” Alice says gently, stopping his rambling. God, this is more nerve-wracking than when he asked Eddie out. “Let’s do it.”

“Awesome,” Billy breathes out. “Great. Hell yeah. Let’s go.”

“Now we need to go talk to Jen.”

“Right,” Billy says. “Yes, Jen!”

What Billy doesn’t mention at this moment is who else he wants to be sitting at the end with. He’ll save that one for later. For now, he has bigger fish to fry.

“Absolutely not,” Jen says, point blank. “No fucking way.”

Okay, so it’s not going as great as Billy would have hoped. He has managed to corral Jen, with Alice as backup, down by the water under the guise of checking the nets for fish.

“Hear me out—” Billy starts. “She needs us.”

“But I don’t need her,” Jen says confidently. “Kid, you’ve seen the show. You know the last time I was in an alliance with Agatha Harkness, she voted against me.”

“Of course,” Billy says easily. “Top seven, Cayman Islands. And when you pulled out that idol, it was beautiful. Jen, you outsmarted her. If it hadn’t been for your injury, you would have beat her. And you can do it again.”

“Okay, Oprah, chill out on the inspirational speech,” Jen says, but she’s smiling a little.

“What are the other options?” Billy asks. “Stay with your tribe? Try to beat Shaun and Monica in every challenge? Play with people that the jury will love?”

“You’re right, he’s a smart kid,” Jen says to Alice. Then turning back to Billy, “you know she’s gonna fuck you over, right?”

Billy shifts a little. He knows that’s Agatha’s whole thing. She is his favorite player, after all. She draws people in and then votes them out. And maybe he’s naive for thinking that he’s different, but he feels like he gets her, or at least he’s trying to.

In the moment, he shrugs. “Maybe. But it’s because of her that I made it this far. All alliances crumble at some point.”

“You know what she did to Nick Scratch, right?”

Billy cocks his head. Nick Scratch was on Old Blood vs. New Blood, Billy’s favorite season of all time. He’s seen it a million times. Agatha didn’t even vote for Nick.

“I mean, I know what was on TV,” he says slowly. “They had that whole intergenerational alliance thing going on until he got voted out.”

“Right,” Jen says. “Until he got voted out. People talk, you know, Survivor alum. Word on the street is that even though she didn’t vote for him, she orchestrated the whole thing. Got every person to vote for Nick except herself so that she could still get his jury vote. I mean, why else would Rio have voted for him? The Nick Scratch vote was the only vote at that point where Agatha and Rio didn’t vote the same way.”

“I don’t know if I believe that,” Billy says. He’s been deep on Survivor Reddit, he’s seen it all, but this feels a little far fetched. Agatha turning on people is her game, sure, but she’s always open about it after the fact, always smirking at their backs as they get their torch snuffed. With the Nick elimination, she just seemed… sad.

“Believe what you want,” Jen says with a shrug. “I just wouldn’t trust Agatha as far as I can throw her.”

“Noted,” Billy says. “So… are you in?”

Jen laughs. “Damn kid, you don’t give up.” Then she gets a wide grin on her face. “Get her to ask me herself and I’ll think about it.”

Billy finds Agatha back at camp, lounging in a hammock that the other tribe won in a reward challenge, eating a slice of watermelon left from the merge feast. Everyone else is off having their frantic post-merge conversations, but Agatha is the portrait of relaxation.

“Well haven’t you been a busy little bee?” she says when Billy approaches her. “Buzzing all around camp, trying to get your strong six?”

Billy huffs. “You’re not making it any easier!”

“Me?” Agatha says, hand on her chest. “I’m just sitting here.”

“I need you to help us get Jen.”

Agatha raises her eyebrows.

“Kale?”

“Is there anyone else named Jen around here?” Billy asks.

“Ooh, sassy, look at you go, Teen.”

Billy groans. “Will you just go talk to her, please?”

Agatha rolls her eyes but gets off the hammock, throwing the watermelon rind over her shoulder. She sighs dramatically.

“Thank you!” Billy chirps. She gives him the finger.

“The teen says you wanted to speak with me,” Agatha says, once they find Jen again, semi-deep into the jungle, looking for viable coconuts.

“I did,” Jen says, turning and crossing her arms.

“Well, I’m here,” Agatha says, crossing her own arms right back. “Out with it.”

Billy is literally a teenager, as he is reminded every day out here, but dear god, these two really are behaving like they’re still in high school.

“So the plan,” Billy says in the face of their staring contest, “is for the top six to be us, Alice, Lilia, and Sharon.”

“Who?” Agatha asks. Billy could strangle her.

“I know the plan,” Jen says. “I just want her to ask me.” She nods at Agatha.

“Oh, Jesus Christ,” Agatha says.

“And while you’re at it,” Jen says, “apologize a little.”

“For what? Trying to vote you out three years ago? Gee, Jennifer, I’m sorry for playing Survivor when we were on Survivor. My bad.”

Jen wrinkles her nose. “Not good enough.”

“Come on,” Billy says, “Agatha.”

“Fine,” Agatha says, tossing her hair out of her face. “I’m sorry I fucked you over out here last time. Honestly, it’s because I respected you and knew you could beat me. You’re good at this fucking game, Jen, but being a sore loser isn’t helping you. So get over it. This is Survivor. People stab each other in the back and you know that. So let’s just get to six and then you can be the one to stab me in the back this time, okay? Because let’s face it, neither of us are gonna win over a jury next to Jimmy fucking Woo out here.”

Jen just stares at Agatha for a few long moments. Billy holds his breath.

“I’m cutting you at top six,” Jen finally says.

“I’d like to see you try,” Agatha responds evenly, with a hint of a smile.

“Don’t test me, Harkness."

“Okay, slay!” Billy says, which is probably not the right vibe. “So we just need Lilia.”

They find Lilia down by the ocean as the sun starts to set, feet in the water, looking out at the horizon.

“You go up to her,” Billy whispers.

“Me?” Agatha hisses. “I voted her ass out on Solomon Islands.”

“Oh my god, whose ass haven't you voted out?” Billy groans.

“It’s kind of my thing,” Agatha says.

“It’s water under the bridge,” Lilia says from the ocean. “Or water out to sea. It may return, but it will be changed.”

“Whoa,” Billy says. “You have really good hearing.”

Agatha twirls her finger in a circle around her temple, the universal sign for she’s crazy, before sighing deeply and approaching Lilia.

“Hey, Lil,” she says, lightly punching Lilia’s arm. God, she’s bad at this.

“Let me guess,” Lilia says, staring straight ahead still, “you want me in your strong six.”

“Wow,” Agatha enthuses. “You are so intuitive.”

Lilia finally turns around, sighing. “Jen told me.”

“Yeah, that makes more sense,” Agatha says. “So what do you say, old friend?”

“Let me ask you something,” Lilia says.

“I’m an open book,” Agatha says, arms spread wide.

“Not you,” Lilia says, “the kid.”

“Oh!” Billy says. “Yeah, ask me anything. I, too, am an open book.” Kind of. Well, he’s pretty sure he at least means it more than Agatha does.

“Why her?” Lilia asks.

“Okay, standing right here,” Agatha says.

Billy ignores her, looks straight to Lilia.

“I want to make it to the end,” Billy says honestly. “And well, Agatha always makes it to the end. I want her to teach me how she does it. And I want her to take me. People are saying it’s naive, but I think it’s smart. And I think it would be smart of you to come along. Think about it, Lilia, when was the last time you were in a true, strong, Survivor alliance? Don’t you miss it?”

Lilia regards him, tilts her head. “This only spells trouble, you know.”

“That’s not a no,” Billy says.

“No, it’s not,” Lilia says with a smile. “It has been a while since I had a good alliance.” She turns to Agatha, smile disappearing. “You’re gone after six though.”

“That’s what they keep telling me,” Agatha says, rolling her eyes. “Are we done here, Teen? Have you collected all the women your little fanboy brain is obsessed with? Can I go back to my hammock?”

“Be free to lounge to your heart’s content,” Billy says. “I’m gonna stay and watch the sunset with Lilia.”

”Do whatever your gay heart desires,” Agatha scoffs, with practically no malice.

And Billy does. He stays and watches the sunset with Lilia, looking for the green flash. He knows there is so much to do; knows that the merge is only the beginning. But he feels content in this moment. He got a freaking top six together. Of some of the best players ever to do it. It’s a good day. Whatever happens next, at least they have six.

Day 23

Sharon blames the wine.

It really shouldn’t have been an issue. Sharon has been having a glass of Pinot every night with dinner for the past 30 years. She’s no amateur when it comes to wine.

So she indulged a little at the merge feast. Sharon very much thinks she’s entitled to have a nice sip or two of wine after spending three weeks out on this island with people who like to manipulate and backstab for fun. Honestly, she doesn’t understand why Todd even enjoyed playing this game so much. She doesn’t understand why any of these people enjoy this. Sharon isn’t how much more of this Lord of the Flies nonsense she can take, without even a soft bed to fall into at the end of the day.

So maybe she drank a little too much yesterday! She deserves it! Who cares?

It turns out, her body very much cares.

Because she hasn’t been able to stop throwing up for the last hour.

“It’s the dehydration,” someone is saying, Jen she thinks, looking down on her with concerned brown eyes and pressing a bottle to her lips. “Come on, drink up.”

The water out here, though they’ve been told it’s potable, tastes an awful lot like dirt. Sharon can’t keep it down.

“Shit,” Jen says.

“Try a coconut, maybe?” someone else suggests.

Sharon would love to never see another damn coconut again, pardon her French.

“Here,” Jen says again, and now she’s pressing something cool to Sharon’s forehead, one of their buffs dipped in the ocean.

“Oh that’s nice,” Sharon mutters.

She sits up a little, blinks her eyes open. There are a lot of faces staring up at her. A lot of faces that just watched her vomit. Oh jeez.

“Hey,” Billy says softly, “how are you feeling?”

“Oh don’t worry about me,” Sharon says, trying to inject cheer into her voice, but not succeeding. There’s still bile in her throat.

“I’m pretty worried,” Billy admits with a little smile. He’s a good kid, Sharon thinks, even if she doesn’t understand why he tells her to vote for certain people.

“We should get Jeff over,” Rio says.

Sharon doesn’t really know Rio that well, as she’s firmly rebuffed all Sharon’s attempts at small talk over the past 24 hours, but she’s looking down at Sharon with what feels like genuine concern.

“Really?” Billy asks, voice a little shaky. “You think it’s that bad? For her to get pulled out of the game?”

Something shifts in Sharon’s stomach, relief or anxiety or—oh no, it’s the wine coming back up again.

“Yeah, can we get Jeff and medical over?” Rio calls to the ever-present crew.

“Oh, come on,” Agatha says, “it’s just a little vomit! You’ll be fine!”

“Agatha,” Rio says, voice low and firm. “She clearly needs medical help.”

Agatha shrugs. “For a hangover? She’ll get over it in ten minutes.”

Rio laughs a little, shakes her head.

“You really just want her vote, don’t you? Want her in your cute little six you guys got together yesterday?”

The rest of the heads make quick eye contact. Sharon’s vision goes fuzzy at the edges.

“How dare you suggest such a thing?” Agatha gasps. “I am worried about my good friend Shania not being able to compete in the game.”

“You know her fucking name!” Billy snaps.

It’s the first time Sharon’s heard him raise his voice this whole time, especially at Agatha, a woman he seems to worship for some godforsaken reason. Sharon, quite frankly, finds her very rude.

Even so, Agatha appears actually startled by Billy’s outburst.

“Fine,” she says, crossing her arms and not looking anyone in the eye. “Let’s get Jeff over here.”

The next thing Sharon knows, she’s blinking her eyes open into the handsome face of Jeff Probst. Up close, it’s very obvious that he has more botox than most of the Real Housewives. These Hollywood types.

“Hey, Sharon,” he says gently. “Heard you aren’t feeling so well.”

“Oh, I’ve certainly been better,” Sharon says.

“Let’s get you checked out, okay?”

Jeff’s voice is oddly soothing, a balm out here. Sharon just nods and does what she’s told, gets her levels taken by nice doctors with Australian accents, who confer amongst themselves until Jeff comes back, taking a knee in front of her.

“Okay, so we’ve been talking with the medical team,” he says kindly. “Seems like you’re severely dehydrated and you can’t keep anything down. Now, given your lack of fluids, the doctor recommends taking you in and hooking you up to an IV. But, sadly, for that to happen, you would have to quit the game. If we get you healed up, you can still sit on the jury, but you would be out of the running for the million. I know it’s a tough choice, but—”

“Jeff,” Sharon says, the first time she’s been a hundred percent sure of anything for 23 days, “get me the heck outta here.”

Day 24

“Oh hell no,” Agatha says. “Absolutely not. No. No way in hell. Are you shitting me? There is no conceivable way that I would ever—”

“Are you done?” The teen asks, rolling his eyes. He’s been getting a little bit of an attitude recently. Agatha isn’t sure how she feels about it.

“No,” Agatha responds. “I actually have a lot more to say on the subject.”

“Well, we don’t exactly have time,” Alice says. “Tribal’s tonight and we need a sixth.”

“No shit,” Agatha grumbles.

The five of them left in their alleged alliance are standing in a very conspicuous circle on the beach, taking a hurried moment to talk strategy while Jimmy goes fishing, Shaun chops firewood, Darcy and Monica go to treemail and Rio is probably off throwing her damn knife somewhere.

“Do you have a better suggestion?” Jen asks, eyebrow raised. “Because if not, I mean, Darcy still thinks I’m voting with her group, so I can just hop on over—”

“Don’t.” Billy interrupts. “This is good, this is our five. Sharon getting medevaced is a setback, sure. But all we need is one more vote.”

“Do we?” Agatha asks. “What about a good old fashioned tie?”

“Be serious for once,” Jen says. “Unless you have another idol up your sleeve, we need to bring someone else in.”

Billy shoots Agatha a glance at this, and Agatha shakes her head, as subtly as she can. Poor kid. Someday soon he’s going to find out his idol is fake, but Agatha won’t let it be at her expense.

“And tell me why,” Agatha says to Jen, eyes narrowed, “the person we bring in has to be Rio fucking Vidal?”

“It’s the only thing that makes sense,” Lilia says calmly, “and you know it.”

“What makes sense about bringing in the person who wants me gone more than anyone else on this beach?”

“To be fair,” Alice says, “a lot of people on this beach want you gone.”

“Gee, thanks.”

“It’s the only way,” Billy says firmly. “Shaun is chomping at the bit to vote you out after you used him back on Ankara. Monica is still pissed about you orchestrating the Carol and Kamala votes, and everyone knows she and Darcy and Jimmy have a top three thing going on.”

“Trust me,” Agatha says, “Rio is more pissed at me than any of them.”

“What was that you said to me the other day?” Billy muses. “‘Your worst enemy becomes your best friend if you need their vote?’ Something like that.”

He grins at her, the little shit. She is, admittedly, kind of proud.

Jen laughs. “He got your ass.”

Agatha rolls her eyes. “Either way, good luck getting her on your side. I don’t think she’s exactly itching to be in an alliance with me.”

“No one is,” Jen mutters.

Agatha glares at her. These people are idiots. There’s simple elimination, simple Survivor gameplay, what she did to Lilia and Jen back in the day, and then there’s the situation with Rio—something these fools couldn’t even wrap their heads around.

“Listen,” Agatha says, “if you can get Rio Vidal to vote someone out who isn’t me, be my fucking guest. I just wouldn’t put too much faith in it.”

“It’s like pulling fucking teeth,” Jen mutters under her breath.

“Okay!” Billy enthuses. “This is progress. Now who should actually go talk to Rio?”

“Talk to me about what?”

Everyone starts a little. Agatha rolls her eyes, turning around to see the woman of the fucking hour, predicably holding a knife and grinning.

“Oh my god, Rio,” Billy gushes, fake as hell. He really is learning from her. “Have I mentioned I’m a huge fan?”

“You know, the more people you say that to, the less special it gets,” Jen says. “Hey, Rio, what’s good?”

“So let me guess,” Rio drawls, twirling the machete in her hand. Show off. “Your little group needs a sixth member after dear old Sharon had a little too much wine.”

There’s an appropriately tense silence before Lilia simply says, “yes.”

“So you four”—Rio points the machete at Lilia, Alice, Jen and Billy in turn—“are content to join an alliance with Agatha Harkness, the woman most notorious for turning on her own alliances?”

“Well, that’s not fair,” Agatha says with a pout. “This alliance is special. Not like any of those old alliances. We’re really close.”

“You didn’t know Sharon’s name until yesterday,” Alice points out. Not helping.

“Look,” Jen says, “no one here is under the illusion that we are actually friends with Agatha.”

“Hey!” Agatha interjects.

“Except maybe the kid.”

“Hey!” Billy interjects.

“But,” Jen continues, “we all know that getting rid of the person everyone wants to get rid of is child’s play. We keep Agatha around until six, we get the more popular players out. Then it’s carnage.”

“And you just love carnage,” Agatha says, turning her eyes to Rio. She lowers her voice an octave. “Don't you, baby?”

Rio looks at her then, full focus. Eyes shouldn’t be allowed to be that big. Rio’s get particularly intense sometimes, white all the way around, irises such a deep shade of brown that Agatha can’t tell where they end and her pupils begin.

“You love carnage,” Rio says, a faint smile crawling up the side of her mouth. “And I love… observing.”

“Oh come on,” Agatha says, not at all investigating what Rio’s purposeful pause did to her chest, “don’t you miss the thrill of it? Working together? Drawing them in and then taking them out?”

“We are right here,” Jen says.

Agatha ignores her, focusing solely on how Rio’s breath hitches a little at Agatha’s words. It’s so small that no one else notices, but Agatha does. Agatha notices everything.

“You know it won’t be that easy this time,” Rio says. Her eyes bore into Agatha’s. “Things are different now.”

Please. Agatha can see in the way Rio stands, in the way Rio looks at her, that it’s not as different as Rio wants to believe. They’re here again, the two of them, presented with the opportunity to do what they do best, and Rio isn’t even man enough to admit she wants it.

Suddenly, it’s Agatha’s number one priority to reel Rio in. Sure, she was protesting this alliance a mere five minutes ago, but it’s one thing if Agatha doesn’t want to team up with Rio. It’s quite another thing if Rio doesn’t want to team up with her.

Agatha steps a little closer to Rio. She brushes some dirt off Rio’s cheek. Rio always has dirt on her face out here. Agatha used to think it was cute. Now, it’s something far more dangerous. Agatha lets her hand linger on the side of Rio’s face.

“Tell me,” Agatha whispers, “when have we ever liked things easy?”

Rio swallows. Her face leans into Agatha’s hand, just a touch. Agatha has to stop her hand acting on its own accord, from clutching Rio’s face and digging her nails in, drawing Rio closer until Agatha can taste her again.

She doesn’t.

Rio slowly wets her lips with her tongue. Agatha watches. Then Rio smiles, her big grin that shows off the gap between her teeth. She shakes Agatha’s hand off, then turns to the rest of the group, who all quickly pretend like they weren’t just staring.

“I’ll think about it,” Rio says with a shrug. “Let's see how the challenge goes. Bye.”

And with a wave of the machete, she leaves their little circle.

“Wow,” Billy says, breathing out, “is she always like that?”

“Yes,” Jen, Alice and Lilia all say.

No she’s not, Agatha thinks, but she doesn't say it. These people don’t really know Rio. Sure, they might know Survivor Rio, this little trickster who can start a fire in five seconds and whose knife skills make everyone a little nervous. But they don’t know the real her. They didn't spend a year in her farmstead up in Vermont between seasons, eating food that Rio grew with her bare hands, listening to Rio sing off key in the shower, feeling Rio’s hands hold her steady or drive her insane, depending on the day.

Sometimes, Agatha wishes she only knew Survivor Rio. It would make this whole thing easier.

Especially now that, against all odds, Agatha is somehow gunning for an alliance with Rio again, even after how it ended last time. But this time, Agatha knows better. This time she won’t let her guard down.

The immunity challenge today, of course, seems to be specifically designed for Rio Vidal to win. First, everyone has to use a machete to cut through a rope, which unleashes puzzle pieces, then crawl through the mud to get to the next set of puzzle pieces, then untie intricate knots for the third set of puzzle pieces. Then, believe it or not, solve a puzzle.

If there’s anything Rio loves, it’s knives, dirt, knots, and figuring shit out. Fucking dyke.

Sure enough, Agatha is barely even at the knot untying stage when Jeff calls, “Rio wins immunity in a landslide! No one else stood a chance in this challenge!”

Agatha looks up from her knot to see Rio, covered in mud, of course, grinning brilliantly through it all. She looks directly at Agatha as Jeff ties the necklace around her neck. Of course, the one tribal where Rio has Agatha’s fate in her hands, and she gets even more power.

It’s a scramble after the immunity challenge, it always is. Jen throws out Shaun’s name, allegedly because he’s a threat in challenges, but also probably because she doesn’t want to burn her bridge with Darcy, Jimmy, and Monica quite yet. Shaun is a middle ground.

And Agatha is sure that her own name will be written down by the other four. It only makes sense.

Which leaves, of course, Rio. Rio who has been threatening to get Agatha out since day one. Rio who could make this a tie, and convince people to switch their vote to Agatha on the re-vote. Rio whose muddy smile is still sticking Agatha’s brain.

“So should we check in with her?” Billy asks after everyone has cleaned up. He glances nervously over where Rio is tenderly hanging up her immunity necklace.

“I’m going for a swim,” Agatha declares. “I’m not going to grovel.”

One of the perks of being on the same beach this entire time is that Agatha knows which spots to go to, where she can get a little bit of privacy, even away from the cameras.

Far enough down the beach that it’s out of sight from the Vulva camp, is a small cove in the cliffside that forms a pool of water unaffected by the waves, a still oasis of blue-green that feels like it came directly from a postcard.

Agatha comes here to swim when camp life becomes a little too infuriating, like, oh, right now.

Agatha climbs up on the rocks, strips off her buff, her shorts, and her underwear so she’s fully naked, before slipping into the water. It’s still cool from the shadow of the cliff, even in this 100 degree heat, and Agatha feels the first moment of peace all day when she’s fully emerged in the ocean.

There was a pond about a mile from Agatha’s house growing up, one that kids would ice skate on in the winter and skinny dip in in the summers. When Agatha’s house got too small and too stifling, the space filling up with only the cruel words of her mother and the New England humidity, Agatha would escape to that pond, feel the cool water surrounding her, reminding her that escape is possible, that she has to power to leave, to submerge herself in something different.

Agatha swims out to where the cove becomes the ocean and then swims back, enjoying the sting of saltwater on her eyes, the breeze hitting her wet face when she comes up for air.

When she makes it back to the rocks, a figure is sitting there, a few feet from her clothes. Agatha isn’t surprised to see her. She isn’t even upset, which is far more worrisome.

“Stalking me?” She asks Rio as she swims up to where Rio is perched on the rocks, dangling her feet into the water.

Rio chuckles a little, shakes her head.

“You’ve been coming out here to swim since day one.”

“So that’s a ‘yes, Agatha, I have been stalking you.’”

Rio just shrugs a shoulder. She's grinning. Agatha resists the urge to grin back.

Rio glances at the pile of Agatha’s clothes on the rock.

“Giving the folks at home a show?”

Rio gestured to a few crew members down the beach with the cameras. Agatha doesn’t even think they can catch anything good from that far away.

“Oh, they’ll blur it out,” Agatha says, waving a hand.

“A huge disappointment to your fans,” Rio says with a lift of her eyebrows.

Agatha can’t help it, she laughs. When her first season started airing, Agatha was suddenly overcome with a barrage of fan mail and internet comments and pieces of art from deranged young women who were in love with her. She would share the best ones with Rio when they were in bed in the mornings and they would both laugh, until one or two would become a little too graphic and Rio’s laughter would harden into jealousy. Agatha liked those ones the best.

Now, Rio joins her in laughing at the shared memory that neither of them dare say aloud.

Agatha hoists herself out of the water, settling on the rock a few feet away from Rio. There’s a flat spot here where she can lay down and let the sun dry her off. But even the heat of even the late afternoon sun in Fiji is absolutely nothing compared to the heat of Rio’s gaze. Agatha stretches out, lying flat on her back, hands behind her head, and watches as Rio’s eyes rake up and down her entire body, lingering on a water droplet making its way between her breasts then pooling in her belly button. The color is beginning to rise on Rio’s face.

“Well,” Agatha finally says, her own voice rougher than she thought it would be, “at least I’m giving one of my fans a show.”

Rio’s eyes snap up to Agatha’s, dark and focused again. Agatha swallows. She didn’t think about the dire consequences of an easy mark. Making Rio want her is easy, Agatha could do it in her sleep, but looking Rio right in the eyes during said seduction is a fatal mistake. Rio’s desire is so open and blatant and honest, it makes Agatha’s own desire spread warmly and easily down her exposed body.

Part of her, a part growing larger every second Rio looks at her, wants Rio just to give in. Wants Rio to lean forward and kiss her hard on the mouth, wants Rio to shed her own clothes, press her entire body to Agatha’s and touch her with those fingers that untied complex knots in three seconds today.

But Rio doesn’t do that. Rio just watches her, which somehow makes Agatha feel even more exposed.

Agatha, for the sake of reciprocity, lets her eyes wander over Rio’s body. Rio is wearing her classic butch little black swim trunks and sports bra combo, exposing her arms and stomach, even more toned than usual, Survivor abs on display. Agatha can see a new tattoo peeking out from Rio’s shorts, a crawling vine of ivy wrapping around her thigh. She’s noticed it in passing out here, but never had a chance to look up close. It feels wrong that there’s something on Rio’s body that Agatha hasn’t gotten the chance to touch.

“New tattoo?” she asks, forcing her eyes up to Rio’s face.

Rio blinks a little, like she’s been in a haze, before looking down at her own legs.

“Oh,” she says. “Yeah. I got it last year.”

Rio sits up, pulls the leg of her shorts up so Agatha can see the whole thing. The ivy connects at the top of Rio’s thigh and then winds down to her knee, and back up. There’s no ending, just an infinite loop of leaves drawn in thin black ink, forever winding on the smooth skin of Rio’s leg.

“It’s beautiful,” Agatha says before she can help it.

Rio smiles at her, not her big teasing grin, but something smaller, close lipped and private.

“I got it after I paid off the Vermont property,” Rio says, like it’s casual. Like Agatha doesn't know how much that piece of land means to Rio, how all she’s wanted is a place of her own, away from the world, something she built with her own hands. “By the time I could finally afford it, there was ivy starting to spread to the house, crawling up the brick. It felt like—I know this sounds stupid—but it felt like the land was accepting me being there, me living there. Like it was letting me be a part of it.”

“It’s not stupid,” Agatha says, even though if you caught her even a few hours ago, she would have been more than happy to tell Rio how stupid it is. But it’s not. Agatha has always admired this part of Rio, the part that no one else sees. Everyone comes on Survivor for two reasons—the million dollars and something else. Normally it’s the million dollars and to be famous, or the million dollars and to boost their ego, or the million dollars and to piss off their mom. (For Agatha, it was all of the above).

But Rio went on Survivor for the million dollars and because she belongs out here. Because she likes the ebb and flow of the earth more than the people on it. She told Agatha as much during their first season together, when the world felt wide and open for them both.

And now, six years since they’ve last seen each other, Rio has land that is hers alone and has tattoos that Agatha hasn’t traced her fingers over.

Agatha clears her throat, tries to cleanse the sticky taste of sentimentality from her mouth.

“Well at least you didn’t get this one to impress a girl,” she says, with a forced laugh, eyes flicking up to Rio’s skull on her arm.

Rio doesn’t laugh back. She looks away from Agatha for the first time since Agatha got out of the water, out into the horizon of the ocean.

“No,” Rio says to the sea. “I got this one to get over a girl.”

Agatha feels something heavy settling in her gut. She sits up on the rock, propping herself up on her elbows.

“And how’s that going for you?” She asks slowly.

If Rio point blank tells Agatha she is over her, or god forbid, was talking about another woman, it’s very convenient that Agatha can quite literally fling herself into the sea with minimal effort.

Thankfully, Rio says nothing of the sort. Instead, she turns to look at Agatha again. First at her eyes, then her mouth, then down the length of her body again. Jesus Christ. Agatha’s confidence in her looks is constantly at a high, if she’s being honest, but something about Rio Vidal’s gaze makes Agatha feel like something utterly unique; one of those muses during the Renaissance inspired horny men to make great works of art.

Rio’s eyes come back to Agatha’s and she almost smiles, but not quite.

“I’ll let you know,” she finally says, in her aggravatingly hot mysterious way. “But right now, I have to figure out if I’m going to join one of the most misguided alliances in Survivor history.”

Agatha laughs, relieved at the conversation going back to gameplay. This she can do. She shifts a little, so she’s essentially giving Rio and eyeful of tit.

“Oh come on,” she says, “you’ve already made up your mind.”

“I don’t know,” Rio says, eyes dancing, “I could write down your name tonight.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Agatha says. “Death finally comes for Agatha Harkness, blah blah blah.” She leans forward again, so she’s sitting upright, getting into Rio’s space. “You know that’s a fucking boring way to do it?” She dances her fingers on the ivy on Rio’s thigh. “I know you don’t like boring, baby.”

“I know what you’re doing,” Rio says, annoyance and fondness both laced in her tone. She doesn’t move her leg away.

“And what am I doing?” Agatha asks, blinking up at her. “All I’m suggesting is a little truce until top six. Until you can get me out for real. None of this voting with the majority shit, something smart, something shocking, like we used to do.”

Rio bites her lip, shakes her head, like she’s trying and failing not to grin.

“I know you’ve missed working with me,” Agatha whispers, leaning even further in, so that her face is just inches from Rio’s. “What we do together. No one else can touch it.”

“You’re laying it on awful thick,” Rio says, but her eyes are on Agatha’s mouth.

“I know,” Agatha says. “Is it working?”

Rio tilts her head, considering. Her hand comes up to Agatha’s face. She takes a strand of Agatha’s hair between her fingers, still wet and salty from the ocean, and tucks it behind her ear, fingers skating on the edge of Agatha’s earlobe then down the side of her neck. Rio’s touch is featherlight, but Agatha feels it through each layer of her skin, as Rio’s fingers find their way over the dip of Agatha’s collarbone, then slowly down her sternum. Agatha feels her breath quicken, letting at a gasp when Rio traces the edge of Agatha’s breast, barely touching it, just a light brush of the fingertips, and then down to her stomach. Agatha sees goosebumps break out on her own skin, feels it tightening, feels that all too familiar ache between her legs, hungry and urgent in a way that somehow only Rio can elicit.

When Rio’s fingers trace Agatha’s hipbone, Agatha can’t help it, a soft moan escapes her lips, audible proof of her wanting, of just what Rio’s touch can do.

At that, Rio moves her hand down to Agatha’s thigh, gives it a playful slap, and then stands up.

“You’ll just have to see at the vote, won’t you?” Rio says with a grin. Then, with one fleeting and burning look back at Agatha’s body, she scampers off the rock toward the beach.

“Oh, fuck you!” Agatha calls after her.

“You wish!” Rio calls back, turning to grin at Agatha.

Agatha, god help her, can’t help but grin back. Then she jumps back into the water. She needs to cool the fuck down.

When Agatha gets back to the beach, the energy is frantic.

“Shaun,” Jen tells her. Agatha nods. It will be a pleasure to vote his ass out.

“Have you heard anything about Rio’s vote?” The teen asks. “I think I should give you my idol. I’m gonna give you my idol.”

Agatha rolls her eyes. She needs to find the real damn idol before this kid figures out the truth.

“Calm down,” she tells him. “Let the adults handle this.”

“I am an adult,” he insists.

“Sure,” Agatha says. “But no need for idols yet.”

“So you’ve got Rio?” The kid asks.

Agatha looks across camp to where Rio is now gutting a fish with the machete. There’s blood on her hands. She looks up at Agatha directly and then slowly licks the fish blood off her finger.

Agatha holds Rio’s gaze. Rio is looking at her like she used to, teasing and wanting. The familiarity of it stabs Agatha in the gut. But still, she knows.

“Yeah kid,” she says, tearing her eyes away. “I’ve got Rio.”

Chapter Text

Day 26

It’s going well, Jen would say. Not absolutely incredibly, but better than she would have expected, given the circumstances.

The circumstances are this: she is ten feet off the ground, arms wrapped around a giant wooden post, feet barely holding onto the footholds.

It’s a classic Survivor immunity challenge, one of simple endurance, both physical and mental. Physical, because, well, here they are, balancing and holding on for dear life. Mental, because every 20 minutes, Jeff fucking Probst comes up to them and offers some food if they drop out.

“You’ve been up there forty minutes,” Jeff says. “And if anyone’s feeling safe enough to not even try for immunity, you could step down for some ice cold milk and fresh warm cookies.”

He reveals a tray of cartoon-ishly good looking chocolate chip cookies and a sweating glass of milk. Jen’s more of a savory person herself, but god damn those look good.

Billy, who has already slipped most of the way down his post, eyes the cookies with hearts in his eyes.

“Oh screw it,” he says cheerfully, dropping down, “I wasn’t going to win anyway.”

Then he gleefully sits on the sidelines, eating his cookies. Jen isn’t sure about this kid, if she’s being honest. Alice vouches for him, and Jen has gotten to trust Alice as well as you can trust anyone in this game, but still, something is a bit off with Billy. He presents in this eager little fanboy package, but he’s always thinking, always a step ahead. Like right now, he mentioned that he wasn’t going to win anyway, not that he felt safe, not letting the truth of their alliance slip. It’s good gameplay. Too good of gameplay, especially for someone so hellbent on working with Agatha Harkness.

Jen feels her foot almost slip, and recenters herself. Fuck. It’s her right ankle too, the one that cost her this whole game three years ago. Even the idea of this ankle twisting again makes Jen sweat more than the afternoon heat warrants. She can’t get injured again. She won’t. Not when things are going so well.

And they are, is the thing. Sure, teaming up with Agatha isn’t the way she saw thing going, but if the numbers keep getting lower, Jen will never have to actually put trust in Agatha. And Rio, freak though she may be, keeps proving herself to be an ally to Jen. Jen didn’t believe it was actually going to happen last tribal, had braced herself for Rio to stick to her grudge against Agatha, and for a 5-5 tie. Jen hates ties out here. If there’s a tie on Survivor, then everyone votes again. And if no one changes their vote, then suddenly, the two people who were up for elimination are safe, and everyone else has their fate decided by drawing colored rocks. No way would Jen let it come down to that.

But she didn’t have to even think about rocks. Somehow, miraculously, Rio voted for Shaun, and then boom, he was gone, 6-4, and their alliance was solid. It’s not the six Jen would have chosen at the start of this game, that’s for sure, but somehow, it’s working.

“Cheeseburger and fries!” Jeff declares. “Who wants it?”

Darcy groans on the post next to Jen.

“You’re killing me, Probst,” she calls to him.

“Hey, if you feel safe enough, come on down!”

Darcy shakes her head.

Jen looks straight ahead. She tried to play things diplomatically at tribal, told Darcy she was voting for Shaun instead of Agatha because he was more of a threat in challenges. A blatant lie of course; Agatha is freakishly good at individual immunity challenges, as evidenced by her right now, arms and legs steady and strong on her post, barely having moved an inch in the almost hour they have been up here.

Jen knows she’s about to be caught in the lie. Tonight’s tribal will put the nail in the coffin of her teaming up with Darcy, Jimmy, and Monica, of this collective lie that there is still tribal loyalty.

Jen feels herself sliding further down the pole, foot searching for a new foothold. When she finds it, her body weight slams down hard on her foot, causing a shooting pain she knows all too well in her ankle. It’s fine, she tells herself. It’s fine, it’s fine, it’s fine. All the physical therapists said she was good to go, but the memory of that specific pain can’t leave Jen’s brain alone.

“The next person who drops gets a fresh a plate of nachos and a cold glass of Coca-Cola.”

Fuck it.

“Jeff,” Jen calls. “Those nachos are mine.”

“Alright,” Jeff says, “Jen is out of the running for immunity, and gets a meal.”

When Jen’s feet hit the sand, it’s comfort, it’s solidity. Yeah, she thinks it’s generally a stupid idea to risk immunity in favor of food, but it’s even stupider to risk getting taken out of here for an injury. Again.

When Sharon got medevaced, Jen had to go find a quiet place to breathe by herself, the sound of the paramedics bringing back the memory of her own evacuation, the pain shooting up her whole leg, and the even worse pain of knowing she made it this close to final tribal and was taken out by her own body.

So, yeah, today she’s going to eat her nachos.

By the time Jen finishes off her food, belly finally feeling full for the first time since the merge feast, only Agatha and Rio are left in the challenge, staring at each other in their now familiar intense way. God, it’s getting old.

Darcy, the most recent person to fall out of the challenge, settles on the bench beside Jen, eyes on the two remaining players.

“Do you think,” Darcy asks, “that the two of them are so good at immunity challenges because they’ve gained so much endurance from their on-and-off boinking over the years?”

Jen laughs so hard she almost snorts her soda out her nose.

“Please,” she says, “that’s the last thing I want to think about.”

“And Rio is down for the count,” Jeff is calling. Jen must have missed something while she was laughing. “Agatha wins immunity!”

“Fuck,” Darcy mutters under her breath, then looks coolly at Jen, all humor gone from her face. “So Shaun was a bigger challenge threat, huh?”

Jen doesn’t answer, spared by Alice coming over, laughing.

“Dude, I didn’t know you were allowed to just flash someone on this show,” she says.

“Is that what happened?” Jen asks.

“Yeah, man, Agatha showed Rio a little tit, and then boom, Rio dropped.”

Jen laughs. Jesus Christ, the editors really have their work cut out for them this season.

Jen tries to avoid Darcy for the rest of the afternoon. As soon as they get back to camp, it’s time for the classic post-challenge vote decision conversations. Jen throws out Monica’s name and Alice agrees, then Jen tells Lilia, Alice tells Billy, and Billy tells Agatha. This whole game is just a drawn out game of telephone with some starvation and manipulation thrown in.

Jen finds Rio rejuvenating the fire, actually using the machete for a purpose besides being intimidating, striking the flint on it, and easily sparking the coconut husk to light. Rio is exceptionally good at making fire, even better than Jen herself, which is a tall order. Before Jen went on Survivor the first time, she spent weeks in her backyard, using flint to start a fire, so by the time she was on the show, she was an expert. There is no way in hell she will go out on a top four firemaking tie break.

“Tough break at the challenge today,” Jen says, sitting down next to Rio, as Rio piles kindling on the flames.

Despite being on the same tribe as Rio for almost a month, Jen still has no fucking clue how to have a normal conversation with her.

Rio just grunts in acknowledgement. Fair. If Jen lost a challenge because an ex-whatever showed a boob, Jen wouldn’t be feeling too chatty.

“So Monica tonight?” Rio says, not looking up from the fire.

Jen nods, accepting the turn in conversation easily. “Yup. Did Lilia tell you?”

Rio shakes her head. “No one told me. Just makes sense.”

How does she do it? Jen keeps trying to cast aside the Death rumors, but Rio is on the money every damn time.

“Cool,” Jen says. “I like Monica, but—”

“It’s her time,” Rio says with a shrug. “Plus, the longer you keep Darcy and Jimmy around the more likely you’ll be able to get their jury votes, right?”

Damn, Rio Vidal did not see directly into her game plan like that.

Before Jen can respond, Darcy approaches the fire, sits on the log that Sam made into a makeshift bench during the first week.

“Hey,” Darcy says, nodding at them both and then looking behind her. “Look, this is my Hail Mary pass or whatever. That’s football for last ditch effort, right? Right. Listen, I’m not an idiot. I know you guys are voting with everyone else. But I wanted just to let you know that Jimmy and Monica and I are putting our votes on the kid tonight.”

“Billy?” Jen asks.

“Yup,” Darcy says. “He seems like a sweet kid, wouldn’t shut up about how he’s a huge fan—”

“He does that to everyone.”

“—but he’s basically Agatha’s little lapdog at this point.”

Rio makes a face at this.

“Sorry,” Darcy says with a grin at Rio, “I know that used to be your position.”

Rio picks up the knife. Turns it over in her hand, staring at Darcy.

“Alright, settle down,” Jen says to Rio, who does so with a growl, which doesn’t really negate Darcy’s lapdog point.

“Anyway,” Darcy says, “we’re voting Billy tonight. If you two want to join, if you want to be free of the grip Harkness has on this game, you’re welcome to. Could be a really fucking good top five. Think about it.”

Then, with a final flash of her smile, she gets up from the fire, leaving Jen and Rio alone.

It’s not exactly an awful idea. If they vote out Billy tonight, then Agatha would be weak, having lost her strongest ally. And Darcy is true to her word, has been this entire time. It’s tempting, the idea of finishing this game with people who aren’t notorious backstabbers.

But then there’s Lilia, who is basically Jen’s day one. Then there’s Alice, who has somehow become the first person Jen talks strategy with. And there’s the kid himself, who she still hasn’t quite figured out.

Jen considers talking it over with Rio, even though she’s still a little wary of that knife, when Agatha comes over to the fire in a frenzy.

“Don’t do it,” she says directly to Jen.

Agatha sits down across from Jen, staring directly at her. It’s the most serious Jen has ever seen Agatha out here.

“Don’t do what?” Jen asks.

“Don’t vote for him,” Agatha says.

Jesus Christ, is it possible to have one conversation on this beach without it spreading like wildfire?

“I’m not—” Jen starts, caught off guard. “I’m still good on Monica, we all are.”

“Don’t do that thing,” Agatha says. She’s flustered, which is something Jen has never seen on her before. “Don’t do that Survivor thing where you tell one group you’re voting for one person and the other group another. Not right now. Just please don’t vote the kid out. Please. It’s not his time yet.” She turns to Rio then, eyes flashing with something Jen can’t name. “It’s not his fucking time yet.”

“Jesus, calm down,” Jen says. “I’m not voting for him. I’m voting for Monica. And so is Rio, right?”

It’s not like Agatha’s pleading actually made Jen cement her vote. No way. But she’s not going to be the one to fuck up their top six deal, not when they’ve made it this far. Darcy makes a good case, but Jen’s already made her alliance bed. Might as well lie in it.

“Right?” She asks Rio again.

Rio is looking right at Agatha, matching Agatha’s intensity. Neither of them say anything.

“Don’t vote for him,” Agatha says, barely audible.

Rio doesn’t answer, just swallows, shakes her head, and then abruptly gets up from the fire pit, walking toward the jungle.

Agatha watches her, then breathes out a slow, shaky breath. She’s rattled, vulnerable, something Jen never knew Agatha could be.

“We’re good,” Jen says slowly, like she’s taming a wild horse, “even if Rio… that’s still five on Monica.”

Agatha breathes a little, comes back to herself.

“Right,” she says. “Right, that’s five votes, we don’t even—she’s not even—it’s that stupid fucking nickname, you know?”

“Uh-huh,” Jen says. What the fuck is happening? “We’re good.”

Agatha breathes out. “He thinks he has an idol,” she says. “He’s so confident walking around with a stupid fucking stick in his pocket, he’s not even fighting for himself.”

Jen tilts her head. This isn’t her first rodeo with Agatha. “And who made that fake idol?”

Agatha narrows her eyes. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Hey,” Jen says, “you’re the one asking me for a favor here, remember? You owe me one.”

Jen prepares for Agatha to fight back, but she just sighs.

“Sure, yeah, whatever, I owe you one.” Agatha’s gaze turns firmly on Jen, eyes freakishly blue. “But promise you won’t vote for him.”

“I won’t vote for him,” Jen repeats for the zillionth time. “I promise.”

Tribal council is interesting that night. Jen suddenly feels like the most popular girl in school, with both Agatha and Darcy shooting her pleading looks every so often.

“So Jen,” Jeff asks, because of course he does, “I gotta ask, is tribal loyalty still a thing at this point?”

Jen mulls the answer over for a second, crafting her non-answer.

“There are all sorts of loyalties in this game, Jeff,” she says. “There’s Legends vs Loved Ones, there’s Ankara vs Sivos, and I think everyone is just figuring out where they fit in this new tribe.”

“Either way,” Jeff says, “you would be in the majority though, right? Whether you were voting with the Loved Ones or with Sivos? Whereas, Billy, you’re the only person left who wasn’t ever on a winning tribe.”

“Thanks for the reminder Jeff,” Billy says with a grin. He doesn’t seem to share any of Agatha’s anxiety about him going home. “Yeah, it’s definitely a challenge to have less numbers both ways in terms of tribes, but come on, Jeff, we are two tribals post merge. We know it’s not about tribes anymore.”

It’s a bold thing to say, especially with his name on the chopping block.

Jen wonders, for a brief second, if she should be writing Billy’s name down; if he’s in fact one of the more dangerous players out here. If his presence can get someone like Agatha Harkness to almost break down, maybe there is something more to him.

But when Jen gets up to vote, she writes down Monica’s name. It was never really a question.

When Jeff holds up the final vote—“the 11th person voted out of Survivor: Road to Redemption and the third member of our jury is Monica”—Agatha leans over to Jen and seriously and quietly says, “thank you.”

Some people really can surprise you out here.

Night 30

“The 13th person voted out of Survivor: Road to Redemption and the fifth member of our jury is Darcy.”

“Ooh,” Darcy says, “shocker.”

“Darcy,” Jeff says, snuffing her torch out, “the tribe has spoken.”

Darcy, in her Darcy way, just flips everyone the bird, and jovially says, “suckers!”

And then she’s gone. And somehow, miraculously, the six people left on their tribe are the six people who promised they would be.

Lilia can’t quite believe it. She’s been in alliances before that kept their promises, but not with a group of characters like this one. They’ve been aligned for four votes in a row. Even with Rio’s alleged desire to get Agatha out of the game. Even with Agatha’s tendency to turn on her alliances. Even with Alice’s inexperience, Jen’s chip on her shoulder, and Billy’s blind faith, they made it to top six.

The rest of this game, Lilia knows, is about to be pure destruction, but for now, as they walk back from tribal, there’s an air of celebration.

“Genuinely cannot believe we pulled that off,” Jen says quietly to Lilia as they carry their torches back to the beach.

“Miracles do happen,” Lilia says.

Jen laughs. “I know next tribal will be ass, but man, this feels pretty fucking great.”

And it does, this odd window that happens in this game, where there is a rare moment of beauty before the ugliness sets in.

Lilia is worried that as soon as they hit the beach, even in the dark of night, there will be immediate strategy talk. Even the mere concept of hashing out who goes next exhausts Lilia. Maybe she’s getting too old for this game. But it never comes. Instead, everyone settles amicably by the fire, which has mostly died down at this point.

Rio quickly gets a flame going again, in mere seconds.

“Show off,” Agatha grumbles.

“I’d like to see you do better,” Rio shoots back, with barely any bite.

There’s less malice than usual with those two. Maybe it’s been these last few votes, working together as a team, or maybe it’s just what this island does, forces companionship against people’s best wishes.

“I will not be getting my hands dirty for something as simple as fire,” Agatha says.

“Oh, I’ve seen you get your hands far dirtier for far less,” Rio says, grinning.

Agatha grins back, like she can’t help it.

“Come on, we’ve talked about this,” Jen says, exhausted and amused. “There’s a whole beach for you guys to be weird on, doesn't have to be right here.”

“You think this is being weird?” Agatha asks. “You should see her when there’s a full moon. Freak show.”

“Fuck off,” Rio says, but she’s smiling even more. She leans back from the fire pit so her back is resting on the bench where Agatha sits.

Lilia has made the conscious choice to put their dynamic out of her mind. It is not conducive to her game. Or her sanity.

“Okay, I have something to confess,” Alice says once they are all sitting around the fire. “You know how Sharon got all fucked up on that wine?”

“Famously,” Jen says.

“Well,” Alice says with a devilish grin, “it didn’t feel right to drink what was left of it after that, but I did stash it away. For a special occasion.”

“No fucking way,” Agatha says.

Alice smiles and then pulls out one of the merge feast jugs of wine from under the shelter.

“Thought top six would be a good occasion,” she announces.

“Hell yeah,” Jen says, reaching out her hand.

Alice hands her the bottle and Jen takes a swig of it.

“Man, this stuff really tastes straight from the box,” Jen says with a grimace. “No wonder it did Sharon in.”

“Can I try?” Billy asks.

“No,” everyone else choruses.

“Sneaky little Teen,” Agatha tuts.

“I’m pretty sure the legal drinking age in Fiji is—”

“Nope!” Agatha interrupts. She reaches for the jug of wine from Jen. “This is for grown-ups.”

“I’m basically twenty,” Billy grumbles. “I had wine at my boyfriend’s cousin’s wedding and it was fine.”

Everyone around the fire pit stops to look at him.

“What?” he says.

“Boyfriend?” Jen asks, eyes alight.

“Wow, you’ve been holding out on us,” Alice says.

“And who is the lucky Mr. Teen?” Agatha asks.

Billy turns bright red, puts his head in his hands.

“Oh my god,” he groans through his palms, “it just slipped out.”

“Why were you hiding him?” Jen asks. “Were you embarrassed?”

“Is he some kind of weirdo?” Rio asks, which is rich coming from her.

“No!” Billy protests. “It’s just—ugh, okay fine. It’s kind of new, and I was worried that if I mentioned him on the show, and then we were broken up by the time it aired, it would majorly suck.” He looks up at the crew. “Please cut this part out if Eddie dumps me before this airs.”

Agatha and Jen giggle a little, but Lilia just looks at Billy quizzically.

“Now, why would you think he would dump you?” she asks.

Billy looks down, clears his throat. “I don’t know, it’s just… you just worry about that stuff, you know?”

“I personally think you’re a lovely young man, and this Eddie would be a fool to end it.”

“Thanks, Lilia,” Billy says with a faint blush. “I don’t know, it’s just… my family went through some pretty rough stuff a while back, so it now it feels—I guess it feels hard to trust a good thing.”

There’s silence around the fire. Lilia lifts a hand to squeeze Billy’s shoulder. The flames illuminate Agatha’s face, looking down, not at Billy and definitely not at Rio.

“I think,” Rio of all people says, breaking the silence, “even if it’s hard to trust that a thing will stay good, you have to let yourself live in it. Even if it doesn’t last, it still could be something… something so special that it changes your whole life.”

She punctuates her thought with a long sip of wine, not making eye contact with anyone.

Billy nods. “Thanks, Rio. Yeah, that’s… I mean I have now officially mentioned Eddie on the show, so here’s hoping I guess.”

“Salud,” Rio says, lifting the wine up at Billy, then drinking from it.

“So, now that I have overshared, maybe I could be a sip of—”

“No!”

“Probably good you did mention your little boyfriend,” Jen says, snatching the wine from Rio. “When I was on Cayman Islands, I didn’t mention my girlfriend at the time, just because she never came up, and then she got pissed I didn’t talk about her.”

Alice snorts, grabbing the wine from Jen. “Sounds like she was chill and lowkey about it.”

“In her defense,” Jen says, “I was kind of a huge bitch after my injury.”

“Oh Jen, I don’t think that’s true,” Agatha says. Everyone gapes at her. “You were a huge bitch before your injury too.”

There’s laughter around the fire, even Jen joining in. The warmth of the flames and the harsh burn of the cheap wine is making everyone just a hair closer than they’ve been so far. Red faced and eager to share.

It used to be like this, Lilia remembers. Back in the old days, when the strategy portion existed, but people really came out here to survive, to see if they could hack it. Lilia remembers the first time she was out here, with her post merge alliance, sharing illicit fruit someone snuck back from a reward challenge, laughing and enjoying each other despite knowing someone would be gone the next day.

These days, an alliance on Survivor is purely strategy, but on nights like tonight, something peeks through, a hint of that old game that Lilia first fell in love with.

“Lilia,” Alice asks, bringing her back to the present, “I gotta ask. Any showmances in the zillion times you’ve been out here?”

“Oh please,” Lilia says, taking the wine from Alice. “I’ve learned—pardon my French—not to shit where I eat.”

She takes a generous sip of wine.

“Really?” Jen says, a glint in her eye. “Then explain the vibe with Jeff.”

Lilia nearly spits out the wine.

“Probst?” Billy asks, mouth agape.

“Jennifer!” Lilia scolds. “Jeffrey and I are professional acquaintances.”

“Sure you are,” Jen says.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Lilia is genuinely affronted. Besides that little dalliance at a reunion a decade ago, and that one hotel room in Bolivia, there is absolutely nothing going on between her and the host of the show. That would be unprofessional. “How dare you even suggest such a thing?”

“Sorry, sorry!” Jen says, raising both her hands. “Just asking.”

“The idea of dating someone out here seems crazy,” Alice says, tongue loose and unthinking with the wine.

“Oh yeah,” Rio says, reaching to steal the wine back from Lilia, “certifiable.”

She lightly elbows Agatha’s knee. Agatha, for her part, just huffs and steals the wine back from Rio. Rio’s elbow lingers and Agatha doesn’t push it away.

“You know, Teen,” Agatha says, changing the subject just enough to avoid the elephant in the camp, “you really could have used this boyfriend thing to your advantage. Said that he would break up with you if you didn’t win the million, play up the sympathy.”

Rio snorts. “I can’t believe you want the teen to pull a Ralph.” She grins up at Agatha. “There are some things that only you can do, sweetheart.”

Agatha grins back, devilish, teeth red from the wine. The sweetheart remains in the air, no one disputing it.

“You flatter me,” she says, eyes only on Rio.

“What the fuck is pulling a Ralph?” Alice asks, either oblivious to this new tension, or purposefully breaking it.

“Oh my god,” Billy says, “only one of the best long cons in Survivor herstory.”

“Just say history,” Jen groans.

Lilia, for her part, just laughs. She was on the season of the Ralph lie, and once she found out the truth, she was part impressed and part horrified, which is a common reaction to Agatha Harkness.

“Ralph,” Agatha says to Alice, with a sideways glance at Rio, “is my dear husband.”

“Your what?” Alice asks, mouth falling open.

Rio snorts into the wine, shaking her head. Her eyes have a sheen of blind adoration over them. God, this poor woman.

“Fine, fine,” Agatha says, like she is only begrudgingly telling this story that she has told on at least a dozen podcasts. “Ralph was my beard in college. Or, we were each other’s beards for when our parents would visit or if we needed to get out of a class or a bad date. And even after college, when my mother would visit, or if I needed an excuse, Ralph became the go to. ‘Oh, I can’t go to your baby shower, my boyfriend’s in the hospital,’ you know how it is.”

“I don’t know if this is as relatable as you think it is,” Jen says.

“Anyway,” Agatha says pointedly, “it became harder for the Ralph lie to work into our 20s and 30s when we were both very much out of the closet. I had real girlfriends and he had real boyfriends, and I wasn’t even lying to my mother anymore. But when I got the call for Survivor, I figured it sure as hell couldn’t hurt for these strangers to think I have a sweet husband at home. Especially a sick one.” She puts on a voice. “Gosh, it would just mean so much to win the million dollars. Ralph’s medical bills really piled up and I just want us to be okay again.”

“You’re insane,” Alice says.

“Oh and that’s not all,” Lilia chimes in. Enough time has passed for her to admit that this whole thing is genuinely quite funny. “When it got to family visits, who should appear?”

“No fucking way,” Alice says.

“I still can’t believe you got him to actually come out here,” Rio says, smile wide and eyes warm.

“I can be very persuasive,” Agatha says, with a flash of a grin at Rio.

“So our family members visit,” Lilia barges on, happy to interrupt Agatha and Rio’s childish flirting, “and Ralph comes onto the beach. gives Agatha a hug, whispers something in her ear, and then Agatha starts weeping.”

“Well, of course I cried,” Agatha says, “my husband’s ball cancer came back.”

Everyone erupts in laughter.

“Diabolical,” Rio says fondly.

“I got taken on every reward challenge for the rest of the season,” Agatha says smugly.

“Still didn’t get you enough jury votes, though,” Jen says, “maybe if you had faked Ralph’s death, you could have gotten the million too.”

Agatha glares at her. “Thanks for your input, Jennifer.”

Jen just shrugs, both of their animosity not quite at its peak.

“Are they doing that this season?” Billy asks, a little nervously. “Family visits?”

Some of the air leaves the fire. Alice looks down at her hands, Rio glances quickly at Agatha, who looks away. Lilia and Jen share a look, unsure of the cause of the energy shift. Well, Jen is unsure. Lilia can pinpoint exactly what happened. There is a solid chance that someone’s mother will visit this beach soon, and it just may change everything. It’s just a question of who’s mother.

“Probably,” Lilia says, slowly and calmly. “It’s either this reward challenge or the next.”

The fire dies down after that, everyone standing and leaving one by one to do the minimal prep one does to get ready for bed out here. Lilia drinks twice as much water as she had wine, not wanting to make the same mistakes as Sharon.

When she settles in the shelter, Jen lies beside her.

“It was nice tonight,” Lilia muses. “All six of us.”

“Yeah,” Jen agrees, “it was.” Then she turns on her side, so she’s facing Lilia. “But next tribal, Agatha goes.”

And there it is, the game rearing its ugly head. Maybe Lilia is getting too old for this.

“Agatha goes,” she repeats, but something in the back of Lilia’s head warns her that it isn’t going to be that simple.

Chapter Text

Day 31

Rio walks to treemail by herself first thing in the morning. She’s taken to going on long walks before the others wake up, getting precious moments to herself before she’s back in the chaos and confusion of camp. Today, however, the walk isn’t very calming. Because Rio knows what’s coming.

Sure enough, when she opens up the silly little box inside tree mail, she finds a note that reads:

Wherever you wander, wherever you roam

You will always have people who remind you of home.

There it is. Everyone is about to get their first taste of the outside world in a month in the form of their loved ones descending upon this beach.

Rio considers burying the note in the sand.

She isn’t worried about her own family. Not at all. She’s sure one of her brothers will more than happily come out here, eager for a chance to be on national television, to tease Rio, and specifically, to tease Rio on national television. Whichever one shows up to the beach today is going to be merciless, especially given that—despite everything Rio told her family and herself before she flew out here—Agatha is still in the game.

But there are reasons for that. Reasons beyond Rio’s control. She isn’t actually the angel of death or whatever, she can’t magically change the math of the vote. What was she supposed to do? Vote Agatha instead of Shaun back when they were still 10 and force a tie? Let chance decide who was going home? No way. And after that, well the numbers weren’t on her side and Agatha kept winning immunity, so what was Rio supposed to do?

Actually strategize against her, a voice tells her that sounds a little like her brother and a little like Rio herself pre-merge.

But vocal strategy has never really been Rio’s strong point. It only worked in the past when she worked with Agatha, when they bounced off each other's ideas. When they would come up with a name, then Rio would do the math of who Agatha needed to manipulate to get that name’s torch snuffed. And Agatha would flawlessly execute the kill.

There was no feeling like it; the singlehanded bliss of being in an alliance with Agatha Harkness.

Years ago, during the worst of it, back when the venom in Agatha’s gaze made Rio’s stomach turn in on itself, Agatha uttered the words, “I will never be in a fucking alliance with you again, Rio Vidal.”

Rio wasn’t able to stop herself from crying and hardening at the same time, biting back, “I wouldn’t even if you asked,” one of the few blatant lies she told while playing this game.

But she would. Of course she would. She would do anything Agatha asked.

When Rio got the call to come back to Survivor this time, she was convinced that their days of working together were behind them, was convinced that Agatha was telling the truth for once when she said she never wanted to work with Rio again. So Rio came back on Survivor with the sole purpose of snuffing Agatha’s torch. It was easier that way.

Yet somehow, miraculously, last week, Agatha turned those Fijian sea blue eyes on Rio and asked her to be an alliance. And Rio is only human.

So here she is, four votes later, having made it to the promised top six, without even attempting to vote Agatha out.

God, her brother is going to give her so much shit.

But honestly, that’s the least of Rio’s worries about family visits.

When she gets back to camp, everyone else is rising with the sun. Jen is working on the fire, trying to show Billy the best technique for lighting it, and he’s miserably failing, all while Agatha looks on and laughs.

God, that kid is going to be nothing but trouble. God, Agatha looks beautiful when she laughs in the morning sun.

“Tree mail,” Rio says flatly.

“Such a breath of fresh air in the morning,” Agatha says, turning to her with an easy smile, one immediately brings Rio back to when Agatha was the first thing she saw each morning.

“So?” Jen asks. “What is it?”

“Oh yeah,” Rio says. She waves the note in the air. “Family visits.”

“Nice,” Jen says easily.

Billy, on the other hand, looks white as a sheet, and Agatha immediately looks down at the sand, eyes avoiding anyone else’s.

Rio’s stomach flips. Her concern doubles, bile rising in her throat.

“Damn, y’all must have crazy families,” Jen says, laughing. Rio ignores her.

“Agatha,” Rio whispers softly, sitting down next to Agatha on the log. “You didn’t put her name on the list, did you?”

Agatha still doesn’t look at Rio, clears her throat. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Agatha,” Rio repeats, firmer and gentler all at once. Her hand, unbidden, grabs Agatha’s wrist.

Agatha finally looks up, eyes guarded. She swallows.

“Tell me you didn’t,” Rio whispers.

Agatha shrugs. “It’s not a big deal.”

It is, in fact, a big deal. When you go on Survivor, you make a short list of friends or family members that are approved to come out and visit you on the island. Rio’s list is just her two brothers, after her mom asked not to be invited back after the time she was forced to eat bugs on Solomon Islands.

When Rio last spoke to Agatha about this, Agatha’s list included the infamous Ralph, an ex-girlfriend, and a distant cousin. Notably, her Survivor family list did not include her mother.

Rio, having had the misfortune of having met Agatha’s mother, knows why.

They met only one time, back when Rio and Agatha were still together, at a Dunkin’ Donuts off of I-95. Rio started the 20 minute visit by ordering a hot black coffee and a glazed donut and ended the visit by using all of her willpower not to throw the very same coffee in Evanora Harkness’ face.

One of the things discussed at said Dunkin’ Donuts, where Agatha clutched Rio’s hand under the table so hard it hurt, was how disappointed Evanora was that she wasn’t invited onto the family visit episode of Survivor.

“You’d rather bring your fake husband than your real mother, I see,” she said haughtily. “Though I do think you and Ralph should give it another go.”

“I’m here with my girlfriend,” Agatha snapped back, nails digging into Rio’s palm.

“And at least she had the decency to invite her own mother onto that silly little show you did.”

“Survivor is the highest rated reality show on broadcast television,” Rio said, picking perhaps the dumbest battle to fight. “And your daughter is one of the most popular players in recent history. It’s very cool. She’s very cool. And smart. And good.”

“Well, isn’t she a nice little bulldog?” Evanora said to Agatha, which is the moment where Rio had to try very very hard to not use her burnt coffee as a weapon.

So yeah, it’s not like Rio is a big fan of Agatha’s mother. In fact, Rio would be quite pleased Evanora fell off a very tall building at her earliest convenience.

“How did she worm her way onto your family list?” Rio asks now, not even trying to hide the disdain from her voice.

“She asked,” Agatha says, clipped. “It was Christmas, I was feeling giving.”

“Fuck that,” Rio mutters. “If she gets her way onto this island, I’ll be giving… her a piece of my mind.”

It’s not Rio’s best. But it does make Agatha laugh a little, a small chuckle fighting its way out of her chest. It’s not much, but Rio clings onto it.

Once the tribe is gathered for the reward challenge, Rio sends up a final prayer to whoever may be listening to please not let Agatha’s mother walk onto this beach.

“Thirty-one Days,” Jeff muses. “That sure is a long time out here.”

“Stunning observation,” Agatha mutters. Rio bites back a laugh.

“It’s an especially long time,” Jeff continues, “not to see anyone from home.”

These people, Rio knows, are not immune to the good old fashion emotional manipulation of Survivor. Alice takes a shaky breath in, Lilia already has tears in her eyes, and Jen holds a hand up to her mouth.

“Well,” Jeff says, “that ends today.”

And so it begins. Rio spares a glance at Agatha, whose jaw is clenched, staring right at Jeff. Rio, on instinct more than anything else, reaches for her hand. Agatha takes it, squeezing hard, and suddenly they are back in a Dunkin’ Donuts seven years ago.

“Lilia,” Jeff announces, “come say hi to your nephew, Luigi.”

Lilia lets out a joyful sob and runs into the arms of her shockingly buff nephew.

“Jen,” Jeff says, grinning his stupid TV grin, “I know you missed your sister, Nicole.”

“Shut the fuck up,” Jen says as she runs to embrace her sister, who squeezes Jen tightly back, both crying and laughing at the same time.

“Billy,” Jeff says, “I know you want to go hug your brother, Tommy.”

“Oh, thank god,” Billy mutters under his breath, but then his face breaks into a huge grin as he hugs his brother, who has twice Billy’s muscle mass, but his same smile.

“Rio,” Jeff teases, and Rio really does want to see her brother, but she also really doesn’t want to let go of Agatha’s hand. “Come greet your brother, Javed.”

Rio squeezes Agatha’s hand tight before she lets go, and then, well she’s only human. Javed’s smile is wide and familiar and innately comforting in a way that feels like home. He hugs her so tight that a tear or squeezes two out of her.

“So you haven’t voted your boo off yet, huh?” he whispers in her ear.

“Shut up,” is her brilliant comeback for that, sounding especially weak through her tears.

“Aw, little Rio caving for a pretty girl. Shocker.”

She pulls back from the hug just to shove him. He laughs. Rio grins. She really has missed him.

“Agatha,” Jeff says next, and all of Rio’s joy falls right out of her ass. “Say hello to your mother, Evanora.”

Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck fuck. The only thing worse than being trapped on an island with your ex is being trapped on an island with your ex and her horrible horrible mother.

Agatha, like she’s being forced to at gunpoint, makes her way across the sand and into her hag of a mother’s arms. The hug is something worse than awkward, a forced affection between two people whose hopes of affection have long died out.

“Wow, Agatha, you’ve really lost some weight out here,” Evanora says not-so quietly, and Rio feels her hand clench into a fist, her body moving aggressively forward.

“Whoa, Rio,” Javed whispers in her ear, arm around her waist, holding her back. “You can’t just attack an old lady like that.”

“Watch me,” Rio growls.

Javed laughs. “We’ll show her in the challenge, okay?”

And that’s why Rio loves her brother. He’ll give her shit about girls; has since they were kids, but he always has her back, no questions asked.

“And finally,” Jeff says, still talking, even though Rio’s world has narrowed to a single focal point, “Alice, why don’t you join me in welcoming back to Survivor after all this time, your mom, Lorna Wu.”

“Oh shit,” Javed mutters, “that’s Lorna Wu.”

No shit. Lorna Wu isn’t exactly the mother that Rio is focused on at the moment, but even she has to admit that it is pretty wild to share the same space as such a legend. Lorna Wu did play the first perfect game, and also—and Rio will never tell Alice this—looked like a fucking babe while doing so, something that Rio definitely was aware of when she watched this show as a young lesbian.

And now, Lorna embraces her daughter with such clear affection and adoration on her face that Rio can’t help but slide her eyes over to Agatha, who is now standing a foot away from her own mother. Evanora’s frown, and the way she casts her eyes harshly over her daughter, could not be further from Lorna’s easy kindness toward her’s.

“I know you all want to spend more time with your loved ones,” Jeff says. Debatable. “And the winner of today’s reward challenge will do just that.”

Maybe the challenge will be a cage match between herself and Evanora, and Rio can resort to some good old fashioned physical violence, but she doubts even Survivor would go that far.

Instead, they have to toss water from the ocean from a tiny bucket into a big bucket that their loved one is holding. Not exactly riveting stuff.

“The winner of this challenge,” Jeff explains, “will get in a boat with their loved one and will be taken to a resort, where they will get an overnight stay. You will get time away from the game. You will get a shower, a bed, full meals, and get to spend it all with your loved one. Worth playing for?”

There are the predictable cheers and gasps from the players. Please. Rio could survive another month with no shower and bed and be perfectly content. She doesn’t need to win this challenge.

She just needs Agatha to lose it.

“Okay, here’s the plan,” she whispers to Javed as they have a quick moment to strategize. “Do whatever you can to make sure Agatha’s mom doesn't catch any of that water.”

Javed eyes her, tilts his head.

“Damn, you really still are in love with her, aren’t you?”

Rio, on instinct, socks him hard in the arm, with an eloquent, “what the fuck, dude?”

He laughs, the asshole.

“I thought you were just, like, a weird combination of horny and holding a grudge, but you still got it bad. You want to be her little knight in shining armor, save her from her evil evil mommy.”

“Lower your voice,” Rio hisses. Even though she’s sure the cameras have already caught this and her humiliation will be broadcast on national TV in a few short months. “Her mom just sucks, okay? I’m not—it doesn’t matter what the situation is with me and Agatha. It’s… whatever. But I won’t let her mother ruin Surivior for her. I can’t.”

Javed just looks at her again, with his too knowing eyes that used to catch her tracking mud through their parent’s house. Then he nods.

“Okay,” he says gently. “Can’t say I fully get it, but you know what they say: any sister’s ex’s mother that she hates is my ex’s mother that I hate.”

“I don’t think they say that,” Rio says, but she grins, she can’t help it.

“I think they do,” Javed says. “And don’t worry, bro, she won’t win the challenge.”

The thing is, it would be so easy for Agatha to sabotage her own challenge. To make the decision that it would be literal hell to spend the night at a resort with her cunt mother. But Rio knows Agatha too well. Rio knows that, even now, even with over three decades in the rearview mirror from living in that woman’s house, even someone as stubborn and strong Agatha still tries. She still tries to do whatever she can for her mother’s approval, even tossing water from one bucket to another on national TV.

But Rio won’t let that happen. And neither will her brother.

The Survivor gods or the producers have placed Rio next to Agatha in the challenge, as they so love to do this season. Which ends up being perfect.

As soon as Jeff decrees, “and this challenge is on,” Rio’s game plan slides into place. Her first bucket of water doesn't even go near Javed’s bucket, instead she perfectly aims the water to cascade over Evanora’s head.

“And this is an unexpected move,” Jeff narrates as Evanora sputters, and turns to glare at Rio. In doing so, she completely misses the water Agatha tries to throw at her. Bingo. “It seems that Rio is more intent on ruining this challenge for Agatha than winning herself.” Bingo again.

For a split second, Agatha glances at Rio, with something that maybe others would read as anger, but Rio knows better. There’s a glint of amusement in Agatha’s eyes that quickly vanishes when Evanora yells, “don’t just stand there!”

And then Agatha’s off to the ocean again. This time, when she attempts to throw the water at Evanora, Javed screams her name so loudly that both Harkness women turn to look at him, the water completely missing Evanora’s bucket.

“This is unprecedented,” Jeff calls, which makes Rio a little proud. “For the first time in Survivor history, someone is sacrificing their own chance at reward just to ruin someone else’s.”

Rio doubts this is the first time in Survivor history. Jeff kind of overuses the term. Whether historical or not though, Rio just grins at him and shrugs.

And so it goes. Rio douses her water on Agatha instead. Javed sprays Evanora with his. Both of them kick a little sand in the Harkness direction when possible. Rio watches Evanora’s anger grow and grow, and is thrilled that she is going to be shipped out of here before that anger can be directed at her daughter.

And before long, Jeff is yelling somewhere in the distance about how it’s down to Alice and Billy, and then, blessedly, “Billy and Tommy win reward!”

Then it’s done. It’s over. Agatha lost. Rio breathes out a long sigh.

They’re separated from their loved ones after the challenge, standing on mats about ten feet apart. But Javed’s grin spans even more than that ten feet. Rio grins back at him, before turning her smile to a fuming Evanora.

“Billy,” Jeff is saying, “congratulations on your first reward challenge victory.”

“My first any challenge victory,” Billy counters, laughing. “It’s crazy what happens when my more athletic brother is around.”

“Don’t sell yourself short,” Jeff says, “you were the one running back and forth, digging deep just for the chance to spend time with your brother.”

“Also the food,” Billy jokes.

“Now, Billy, you have a big decision to make. You can take one other person and their loved one on this reward. Who’s it gonna be?”

Billy grins. “I mean, I feel like I have to take A—”

“Don’t take Agatha,” Rio yells, before she’s even aware the words are coming out of her mouth.

“—lice,” the teen finishes. “Alice. She was right behind me in this challenge and I mean, come on, that’s Lorna Wu.”

“Alright,” Jeff says, chuckling. “Alice and Lorna, you are going to have a lovely resort stay with Billy and Tommy. But before we get to that—Rio, I gotta ask: first, you deliberately sabotage Agatha in the challenge, and then you are fighting for her not to go on reward. Now, I know you guys have a contentious past, but what changed today?”

Rio swallows. She glances at Agatha, who is looking down at her feet. And no matter their “contentious past,” Rio isn’t going to embarrass Agatha on national TV. Not in front of her mother.

Instead, she looks Jeff right in the eye and says, “what can I say, Jeff? Guess I’m a stone cold bitch.”

And Agatha laughs. And suddenly, everything was worth it.

“Fair enough,” Jeff says jovially. “So Billy, you get to pick one more person to go on reward with you.”

Behind Jeff’s back, Rio makes a slicing motion across her throat. Billy sees her and pales a little before nodding.

“Jen,” he says, “get over here.”

“Jen and Nicole, you will be having a nice night away from camp with these folks. Everyone else, I got nothing for you. Wave goodbye to your loved ones and head back to camp.”

Rio breathes out. She shoots her brother one last grateful smile and he throws up a peace sign and blows her a kiss. Then she catches Evanora’s eyes and glares. She hopes the glare conveys see you in hell, bitch, but it might just look like Rio is squinting into the sun.

Then they walk down the beach, leaving their family members behind.

After the disastrous Dunkin’ Donuts meeting seven years ago, Agatha was quiet in the passenger’s seat of Rio’s truck, something extremely unusual for her. She didn’t even fiddle with the radio or kick her feet up on the dash. She just sat there, staring ahead. Rio had one hand on the steering wheel and the other on Agatha’s thigh, for proof of Agatha’s solidity more than anything else.

Eventually, when Rio couldn’t take it anymore, she’s let out the most comforting words she could think of: “she fucking sucks.”

Agatha snorted, but didn’t crack a smile. “No shit.” She tapped her foot on the ground, her fingers on the car door, before admitting, to the dashboard more than Rio, “I don’t fucking get it. I’m in my forties, I know how she is. I know she’s the fucking worst. Yet every time, I just… I think maybe she won’t be.”

Agatha slumped down in her seat. Rio pulled over. Which on a highway in Massachusetts did mean at another Dunkin’ Donuts. Then she unbuckled her seatbelt, turned her body toward Agatha and said, fully seriously, “I can kill her if you need me to.”

This at least, made Agatha smile a little. She turned in her seat to Rio, half of her mouth involuntarily rising. “Oh yeah? How would you manage that?”

“I mean, poison would probably be most efficient and least traceable.”

“Right,” Agatha said, smile growing, “and you know about all the different plants.”

“Yeah, but I think probably a classic arsenic would be more reliable.”

“Ooh, old school.”

“What can I say, I’m traditional in my poison choices for murdering anyone”—here, Rio rather aggressively cupped Agatha’s face, made her look at her, made her believe her—“anyone who makes you feel like this.”

And then Agatha kissed her. And then everything was okay.

Seven years later, on the Survivor beach, Rio isn’t sure she can do the same method of comfort. As soon as they get back to camp, Agatha is off down the beach without so much as a glance at Rio, to her secluded swimming spot where she goes to relax.

Rio just watches her go until she is a speck on the sand.

“Oh, for Christ’s sake, just go after her,” Lilia says, eyeing Rio all too knowingly.

“She’ll bite my head off,” Rio says.

“And you’ll like it,” Lilia says casually. Which, fair point. “Look, I don’t know the ins and outs of what is happening between the two of you, and frankly, I don’t want to. But it’s beyond clear how much you care about her. And I think that right now, a reminder of how much someone cares about her might be what she needs.”

Rio swallows. Everything feels so raw, so close to the surface today. And Lilia, annoyingly, is right.

“Plus,” Lilia says, “I cannot stress enough how much I would love some alone time.”

Rio chuckles. Then she takes a deep breath in and heads off down the beach.

“Take your time,” Lilia calls after her, “I’ll be enjoying some peace and quiet.”

By the time Rio makes it to Agatha’s cove, she’s already in the water. Rio chooses not to join her, instead sitting on the rocks, knees up to her chest, watching Agatha’s head bob as she swims. It’s comforting to watch her in motion.

Finally, Agatha comes ashore, pulling herself onto the rocks. She looks exhausted, not just from spending long minutes in the ocean.

She doesn’t even make a quip about Rio stalking her, just squeezes out her hair and pants. She sits mirroring Rio, legs to her chest. Rio doesn’t say anything, just waits.

Finally, Agatha, looking out to the ocean, simply says, “you didn’t have to do that.”

“Yeah, I did,” Rio says, matter-of-factly.

“Rio,” Agatha says. Her eyes turn to Rio’s. “This isn’t—you’re not—”

And Rio really doesn't want her to finish that sentence.

“Technically,” she says, “according the great state of Vermont, it is my legal right to do whatever it takes to keep your bitch mother out of your fucking life.”

At this, Agatha chuckles. She shakes her head.

“Seriously,” Rio continues, and suddenly it’s imperative that Agatha hears this. “I don’t care if we haven’t spoken in… years or even decades, I’m still not gonna let her do that to you. Sorry. It’s my business now.”

Agatha just looks at Rio, like she’s trying to figure her out. Which is ridiculous, Rio feels like she just laid herself bare for Agatha, like she’s offering her guts up for Agatha to inspect.

“I never should have put her on my list,” Agatha says, tearing her eyes from Rio and looking back to the sea. “It was the Christmas after I shot Cayman Islands, but before it aired. I fucking knew I lost again. And I had nowhere to go for Christmas but to my stupid mother’s house and she asked me about the family visits again and I figured, well, she’s the only family I’ve got.”

“That’s not true,” Rio says. Her voice breaks a little. Even with all of it, she can’t fucking bear the idea of Agatha thinking that Evanora Harkness is all she has. “I mean Vuvale, right?”

“Not the stupid tribe name.”

“I’m serious,” Rio says. “People fucking adore you. Your legion of fans? That kid?” Rio tries to keep her voice steady. “Nicky?”

Agatha looks at her then, eyes red and raw, and Rio is suddenly gripped with such fear that even the mention of him will send Agatha away, back into this void of animosity.

“Plus,” Rio says hurriedly. “Technically, according to the great state of Vermont…”

This makes Agatha laugh for real, like she can’t help it, eyes crinkling up at the corners and mouth open. It’s warm relief, seeing Agatha like this, so alive, even after her mom has done everything for the last fifty years to suck the life out of her. But of course she failed, because Agatha Harkness, laughing on the seaside rocks, is the most alive and vibrant person Rio has ever known.

Fucking Christ, Javed was right. Rio is still absurdly in love with Agatha. It was never even a question. It’s like the past six years were a poorly placed band-aid over a bleeding wound and these last 30 days have torn the band-aid off and lit the wound on fire, and all Rio wants is for it to keep burning.

“You’re ridiculous,” Agatha says, smile bright under the sun.

Rio just shrugs. She’s smiling too, somehow. God, she’s so fucked.

“So are you guys still voting me out in two days?” Agatha asks with a chuckle.

And for the first time since she’s been out here, Rio doesn’t know the answer.

Chapter Text

Day 32

There is something about waking up in a bed that Alice will never underestimate again. The softness of a pillow, the smoothness of a sheet, the way her back doesn't immediately feel like shit when she wakes up. Nope, Alice is never going to take this for granted.

The resort that the show put them up in is nice, way better than anything Alice’s family could afford when she was growing up. (Alice’s family definitely could afford it after her mom won a million dollars on TV, but still, they never went anywhere like this.) There’s a little common area with a kitchen that connects all of their plush rooms and this morning, it is filled with pastries as far as the eye can see, and, more importantly, the scent of strong coffee brewing.

“God damn, this is nice.”

Alice turns to see Jen also come into the common area, wearing one of the robes the resort gave to them. It’s seems they’re the only two people up so early, unable to shake the island practice of rising with the sun.

“Right?” Alice says, pouring two cups of coffee, “A bed and food? Living the dream.”

Jen nods, reaches for a croissant and inelegantly bites into it.

“So,” she says, mouth full, “while Billy’s still sleeping, wanna talk top three?”

Alice smiles around the rim of her mug, handing the other one to Jen.

“Wow, Jen, before I’ve even had my coffee.”

“Oh, you’re having it now,” Jen says with an easy smile. She takes the mug from Alice and then looks behind her, making sure no one else is coming in. You can take the girl off the Survivor beach... “But, seriously, you know Billy is going to want to take Agatha to top three. And you too, right?”

Alice doesn’t say anything. Billy and her promised to go to the end together way back at the merge, but the third person has never been spoken aloud. Alice has her suspicions, though.

“But here’s my pitch,” Jen continues. “You, me, Lilia. Top three. We’ve all played good games, we don’t have any weird hangups. We’d be solid.”

“Not Rio?” Alice asks, mostly to distract herself from how Jen’s offer makes her feel like her coffee might come back up, either from flattery or anxiety or both.

“Look, Rio’s a good player,” Jen says, “but did you see her during the challenge yesterday? I can’t fully trust that she would prioritize gameplay over whatever the fuck she has going on with Agatha.”

Alice laughs, leans forward on the counter. “Do you really think they haven't talked in six years? Because I don’t buy it. I think they have joint custody of a secret love child or something.”

“Oh, I have my theories,” Jen says. “But, bitch, not the point. I’m offering you top three.”

“Yeah,” Alice says, “you are. You like me.”

“Look, there’s a low bar out here.”

Alice laughs. But before she can give Jen a real answer or a fake answer, they’re joined in the little living room by a burst of energy that is Jen’s sister Nicole and Billy’s brother Tommy.

“Oh hell yeah, dude, they have scones,” Tommy enthuses, shoving two into his mouth.

“I’m obsessed with this kid,” Nicole tells Jen. “He’s like an excitable jock they made in a lab.”

Tommy laughs through his scones. “Billy’s the brains, I’m the brawn.”

“I’m both,” Jen says, grinning at Nicole.

“Bitch, I’m both,” Nicole says.

Everyone laughs and Alice wishes for the millionth time that she had a sibling.

Soon enough, they’re joined in the kitchen by Billy and Lorna, completing their group of six. Alice watches as Billy very inelegantly asks Lorna questions about the game, which she answers with thoughtful consideration. She always was so good to her fans.

Alice watches for a few more minutes and then slinks off to one of the balconies, finishing her coffee in the relative peace outside, watching the ocean from down below. There are storm clouds on the horizon.

It’s unsettling, having her mom here, sharing space with the woman who has defined Alice through this whole game. But still, even on Survivor, she’s just a person. She’s a few inches shorter than Alice, with her same too loud laugh and habit of being overly touchy that used to drive Alice crazy. But now she’s here. Here with people that Alice thought were just starting to see her as her own person.

“Hey, you good?”

Alice turns to see Billy sliding the balcony door open, coming out to join her.

“Yeah, you know,” Alice says, “it’s just a lot.”

“Totally,” Billy says. “Moms are definitely a lot.” He looks out over the balcony with Alice, at where the sea meets the shore. “Pretty crazy we are just living down there in the elements.”

She laughs. “I know, right? Kind of amazing we’re actually doing it.”

He smiles in agreement. Then he takes a deep breath in.

“So, top three?”

God, these Survivor people are relentless.

“Let me guess,” Alice says, “you want you, me and Agatha?”

“Is that crazy?” Billy asks with a self-depreciating smile. “I just think it makes sense. You’re my Day One, and she’s the person everyone still wants out.”

“Isn’t the whole thing to go to the end with people you can trust?” Alice asks.

Billy shrugs. “Everyone who has brought Agatha Harkness to the end has won this game. I trust that.”

“So if you and I bring Agatha to the end,” Alice asks, “which one of us wins?”

Billy grins at her. “Isn’t that the fun of the game?”

Alice laughs. She wonders if Billy knows how charming he is, if he knows that his boyish earnestness has happened to make five random women on an island feel this surge of protectiveness over him. She wonders if Billy does in fact know this, if he’s using his innate sweetness to win. She wonders if she sits next to Billy and Agatha, if she would get any votes at all. She wonders if she’d fare any better sitting next to Jen and Lilia. She has no fucking clue.

“Think about it,” Billy says, “you could be the second Survivor legend in your family.”

Then he smiles at her and goes back inside.

Alice drains her coffee, feels the wind against her face. She isn’t sure if she likes this game.

The door to the balcony slides open again and Alice turns to see none other than her dear mother walk onto the balcony.

There’s an elegance to Lorna’s movements that Alice didn’t inherit, a grace in which she slides out onto the balcony, even doing something as simple as eating a banana.

“The kid told me you were out here,” Lorna says, leaning her elbows on the balcony, mirroring Alice. “He really admires you.”

Alice snorts. “He really admires you. I’m just the one that’s here.”

Lorna purses her lips, shakes her head. “Don’t do that.”

“Don’t do what?”

“Deflect. You always deflect.”

Alice sighs. “Sure, mom. I always deflect, you always critique, and here we are. Same place as always.”

Lorna looks out into the ocean. “I would argue that being in Fiji, when you are top six on Survivor, is actually not the same place as always.”

She has a point. Alice just grunts in response, somehow a teenager again.

“Honey,” Lorna says slowly, “why didn’t you tell me you were coming out here?”

Alice swallows, focuses on a spot on the horizon where the ocean is gray from distant rain. She shrugs.

“I wanted to do it without your advice, I guess. Just to see if I could.”

“Well,” Lorna says. Then she takes Alice’s hand where it rests on the railing and squeezing it. “You definitely don’t need me. Top six.”

Alice, unable to help herself, lets out a soft laugh. Something that would almost be a sob if she wasn’t careful. She looks into her mother’s eyes and sees her smiling. It could almost be called pride.

“I mean, it’s no perfect game,” Alice says, shrugging, “but I’m trying.”

“Oh god, the perfect game.” Lorna scoffs, shakes her head. “It was so different back then. They were no idols, there were no twists. I played a ‘perfect game’ because I told people what they wanted to hear at the right time, so they voted for me.”

“Just like that?”

“And I threatened some of their families,” Lorna says casually.

“You what?”

“Alice, I’m kidding,” Lorna says with a laugh. “They’ve really built up my reputation here on this show, I swear.”

But it’s not just the show. It’s everywhere. A reputation Alice can’t fucking escape. The inevitability of Surivivor and her family. And maybe it’s that that makes her ask, after all these years:

“So why did you come out here?”

“What do you mean?” Lorna asks.

Alice can’t believe she’s never point blank asked her mom this before. “Why Survivor? Why, when you were a young working mother, did you decide to abandon it all to be on the most popular broadcast reality series of all time?”

Lorna looks at Alice like she just asked why she eats or sleeps.

“For the million dollars,” she says blankly.

“Yeah, yeah, the million,” Alice says. “There’s always two reasons someone goes on Survivor. The million and something else. What’s the something else?”

“The million,” Lorna insists. “A million dollars is nothing to scoff at. Especially a million dollars 20 years ago.”

“Yeah, but—”

“But nothing,” Lorna says, in that firm way she got when she would catch Alice eating candy from the top shelf before dinner. “Do you understand what a million dollars did for our family?”

“I mean—”

“Do you, Alice? Do you remember where we lived before Survivor?”

And of course Alice does, her and her parents crammed into a one-bedroom apartment in North Jersey. Rembers tripping over her dad’s shoes to get to her fold-out bed. Remembers the whirlwind after Survivor, moving to that classic suburban house, backyard and all. At the time she wasn’t thinking about their living quarters, she was thinking about her mom doing all the morning talk shows and barely mentioning her, taking to fame like a duck to water, that at least with the new house, she had a bedroom door to slam.

“The million got us a house,” Lorna is saying, “it got us food on the table, got us tuition for a nice school that you could drop out of, got you that first year of rent when you moved to the city.”

“I know,” Alice says, knowing she’s being petulant, “but, for real, was Survivor the only way to make money?”

Lorna purses her lips. “Do you remember when your grandfather died?”

It’s such a pivot that Alice blinks a little, shaken.

“Barely,” she says. “I was pretty young.”

“Well, when your grandfather died, he left me with a five year old child, a job as a cleaner, and his thousands of dollars in gambling debt.”

“Oh shit,” Alice says.

“Apparently,” Lorna says, “it went back generations, Wu after Wu owing money to the wrong people and never paying it off. There was no way, even with what your father and I were making combined, to pay that off and take care of you, let alone give you a good life. So when I saw an ad on TV about a show where you could win a million dollars, I took a risk. A calculated risk. Because I’ve always known people. And this show was about people. So I did it. Did every interview, did every promotion, made every alliance, because I knew that if I won that million, I could make it so no one else in our family would be burdened with that debt. That we would finally be free.”

Alice just stares at her. Lorna’s hair is blowing in the sea breeze. This woman whose face haunted Alice even after she left home, in viral clips resurfacing and that brief shampoo commercial she did in the aughts. All of it to help Alice. All of it to make it so Alice didn’t know struggle. And Alice, for the past twenty years of her life, has been a huge bitch about it.

“Mom,” she says, and her voice comes out hoarse, raw. “I didn't know—you never told me, I thought it was the fame and the success, but it was—”

“It was for you,” Lorna says, bluntly. “Always was.”

Alice is crying now, she thinks, which is so stupid. She’s crying on Survivor about Survivor.

“I didn’t know,” she repeats softly.

“I didn’t want you to,” Lorna admits, her own voice rough. “I didn’t want you to know how bad it got for a while.”

“Shit, mom,” Alice says, sniffling, “And I just came out here to prove that I could do it too. God, that’s so petty and stubborn.”

“Well, you got that from me,” Lorna says, smiling, “can’t play a perfect game without being petty and stubborn.”

Alice laughs, she can’t help it. She laughs through her tears and then she’s in her mother’s arms, just like she used to on their one couch in that small New Jersey apartment, crying into her mom’s shoulder.

Lorna holds her for long minutes, until Alice can breathe normally again, until she’s just leaning on Lorna, looking out at the view like they are any other family. The rain clouds are growing closer, will probably hit their camp in the next day or two. Alice can’t bring herself to care.

“So,” Alice finally says, “two different groups want me in their top three.”

“Well, look at you,” Lorna says, with a smile and a small kiss to the top of Alice’s head. “Popular.”

Alice chuckles. “I think I’m just one of the few people without a previously existing grudge, honestly.”

“Well, that’s something you can use. Being liked. If you get these people, even the ones you don’t choose, to still like you, then that’s currency. That’s votes.”

Alice thinks. Would Billy vote for her if she went with Jen and Lilia? Would Jen vote for her if she sided with Billy and Agatha? Alice isn’t quite sure. And she has approximately one day to figure it all out.

“Don’t be afraid of making a big move,” Lorna says. “Trust that petty and stubborn heart.”

Alice laughs, breathes out with it, soaking up the morning sun while it’s still here.

All too soon, they are going to have to go back to camp, leave their families behind for this world of grudges and idols and betrayals. But for now, Alice looks out at the sea, leans into the familiar scent of her mother, and thinks, for the first time during this whole game, that she finally knows how to play it.

Day 33

At this point, Agatha cannot count how many rocks she has flipped over, how many trees she’s climbed, how many roots she’s excavated over the last few weeks only for a grand total of fucking nothing.

When her most recent search, digging inside of a partially decaying palm tree, only garners Agatha a spider bite and a handful of rotten tree, she lets out a raw scream into the jungle.

God, where is this fucking idol? It’s getting down to crunch time here; she has been told point blank that everyone is voting for her tonight, and the only thing that could guarantee safety is hidden somewhere on this godforsaken island, and she can’t fucking find it.

This has never happened before in the cumulative 150 days that Agatha has played Survivor. She always finds the idol. And if she doesn’t, she knows who has it, and gets close to them. That’s how this works. But this time, something is off. Ever since the tribe swap, she hasn’t been able to locate the second idol.

It doesn't take a genius to figure out that the odds are that Rio has the one that was originally at the Sivos camp. Rio isn’t an idiot—despite how much easier everything would be if she were—she knew where the first idol was at Ankara, and Agatha is almost positive that she has snatched up the second one.

But that still leaves one idol left. One idol that is haunting Agatha’s waking moments. She goes over the possibilities again. If Shaun or Jimmy or Monica or Darcy had found it, they would have played it either for themself or their allies before being voted off. If Lilia had it, she would have let it slip, would have said something cryptic about the goddesses of the island having her back. If Alice had it, she would have told Billy, who would have told Agatha. If Jen had it, she would have walked with an extra confidence in her step, the same one that she had on Cayman Islands.

(Agatha lets everyone believe that she turned on Jen and betrayed her alliance back on Cayman Islands, but in reality, Agatha knew that Jen had an idol for days, and had voted against Jen to both flush her idol and make herself so unlikable that she would get brought to the end. But let people think what they think.)

So that leaves Billy, who is so confident in his fake one that he wouldn’t seek out a real one, and Rio, who most likely already has one. Either Rio has two idols, or the other one is still somewhere around here, somewhere that Agatha can’t fucking find.

She’s done everything. She sacrificed any chance at food to spend all of her money at the Survivor auction on an “advantage in the game,” which turned out to be about the challenge, not the idol. She’s looked at every reward challenge, through every supply, through every nook and damn cranny and has a fat nothing to show for it.

She better win the challenge today.

But if she wins the challenge today, they’ll just send Billy home. He’ll play his fake idol full of bravado and hope and then he will get sent home by his own alliance and the woman they call Death. And Agatha really can’t handle that.

“Searching for something?”

Agatha has learned to not be shocked or bothered by Rio’s inability to leave Agatha alone. Tragically, she’s started to fucking like it.

“Searching for some damn privacy,” Agatha says with no bite at all. God, what has happened to her out here?

She turns around to see Rio, clearly having just gone on a morning swim. Her hair is wet and pulled back and her skin has that saltwater sheen on it. God, Agatha wishes Rio got suddenly ugly over the last six years. Instead she’s aged through her 30s gorgeously, her own face and body more like she belongs in them, skin darker from working in the sun, muscles more defined from sowing and hoeing or whatever it is that farmers do.

“Sure,” Rio says, an easy smile gracing her mouth, “definitely not an idol.”

“You don’t have both, do you?” Agatha asks point-blank, “because that would be hoarding.”

Rio raises her eyebrows. “Both idols? That would be greedy of me.”

“You did it on Solomon Islands,” Agatha says with a grin.

“We did it on Solomon Islands,” Rio corrects. “And I believe you insisted on holding onto both of them.”

“I like the feel of something solid in my hand,” Agatha says.

“Oh, I’m well aware,” Rio says, her full grin widening, eyes bright in the morning sun.

Fuck her. Fuck her for grinning at Agatha like that, for being so blatant about her want, but not acting on in. Fuck her for these last two nights, for knowing that Agatha wouldn’t be able to sleep after her mother visited, and silently sleeping right next to her in the shelter, holding Agatha around the waist and whispering boring nonsense in her ear so Agatha could drift off to sleep. Agatha’s never been an easy sleeper, especially when a reminder of her childhood pops up and ruins everything. Back in Vermont, Rio used to spend the evenings reading to her or playing old sitcoms on TV so Agatha could sleep. And now, she’s doing it again, whispering a long and boring list of plants native to Fiji in Agatha’s ear after everyone else has fallen asleep, just so Agatha can rest. Fuck her for knowing Agatha like that, even after all these years.

“Fuck you,” Agatha says aloud, but it comes out fond.

“I can’t believe you still haven’t found an idol,” Rio says, still grinning, “so unlike you.”

“Maybe I do have one,” Agatha says, crossing her arms, “maybe I’m messing with you, so everyone will vote for me tonight.”

“Don’t pretend I can’t read you like a book, baby,” Rio says, leaning in closer. Agatha’s traitorous breath catches. Then Rio, the bastard, leans back, against the tree that Agatha was just digging in. “Besides, everyone is voting for you tonight anyway. Idol or not.”

“Good thing I have one then,” Agatha bluffs.

“Yeah,” Rio says, “good thing. Hey, guess it doesn't matter if you win immunity in the challenge today, right? You’ve got that idol ready.”

Agatha narrows her eyes at Rio. Rio just smiles.

Agatha has to say, her track record with individual immunity speaks for itself at the moment, with three wins under her belt. She just beeds to make it four. She prays for another endurance challenge, something she can do in her sleep.

“This challenge,” Jeff explains, once they are all gathered on the beach, “will not just test your speed and skill, but also your knowledge of Survivor trivia.”

“Oh, fuck me,” Agatha says aloud.

The challenge is to quickly navigate through a production-constructed labyrinth, stopping at six different stations, all which have a trivia question on them. If they get the question right, they get a key. If they get it wrong, they have to move on, and come back to that station. The first person to get all six keys, and then unlock six parts of a puzzle lock, wins immunity. Convoluted bullshit.

When Jeff signals for them to start, the six players fly off in different directions. Agatha needs to focus. She’s played this game four fucking times, she can do some damn trivia.

The first station is equipped with the question: who played the first perfect game: Lorna Wu or Steve Rogers? Agatha rolls her eyes, and grabs the key from the box labeled Lorna Wu. These questions aren’t biased at all toward certain people whose loving mothers were here a mere 24 hours ago. Agatha quickly moves on to the next station.

Which season had the smallest tribe of all time: Palau or Guatemala? Fuck if Agatha knows. That was before her time, back when she would watch Survivor in her shitty Boston apartment only on Wednesday nights where she didn’t have a date. And not to brag, but she was pretty busy getting free meals and middling to decent sex on Wednesdays, not watching some dumb reality show.

She picks the box for Guatemala. No key. Shit.

She quickly runs through the maze to the next station. Rio is outside of it, holding a shiny key, and scowling.

“You’re gonna hate that one,” she says flatly before running past Agatha to the next station.

The third question of this godforsaken challenge, staring up at Agatha in the kitschy font they always use is: which was the final season of Survivor to have a final two instead of a final three: Micronesia or Old Blood vs New Blood?

These producers are sadists. Agatha grabs the key from the Old Blood vs New Blood box and growls to the camera over her shoulder. Not only did she have to read that stupid question, but Rio had to read that stupid question, right before tribal. Great fucking timing for this little trip down memory lane.

And it’s not even worth the reminder. By the time Agatha finished the rest of the questions and goes back to the stupid Palau box, Jeff is already calling out, “Billy wins immunity!”

Agatha groans, dropping her keys to the ground. At least if it’s not her, it’s that stupid kid, who is grinning so brilliantly in the sun as Jeff places the immunity necklace on him that it’s hard to even be a little annoyed at him.

“For his second challenge win in a row,” Jeff says, grinning, “Billy is safe at tonight’s tribal council, and has a one in five shot of winning this game. Everyone else, one of you will be going home at tonight’s tribal council. Head back to camp, I’ll see you tonight.”

As soon as they get back to camp, Billy practically shoves his fake idol in Agatha’s hands. It’s still wrapped in cloth, a piece of canvas that Agatha tore from the rice sack to wrap her stick in.

“Billy…” Agatha starts.

“No,” he says firmly. “Use it tonight. I don’t need it for myself.”

He’s staring at her with such earnestness, the way Nicky used to, and she can’t fucking bear to break his fanboy heart right now. Let him believe for a few more hours.

She snatches the idol from Billy’s hand and shoves it in the pocket of her shorts.

“Thank you,” he says. Then he glances around.

They’re near the shelter, only the two of them. Agatha would bet the million dollars she’s not going to win that the other four are off gleefully confirming her name right now.

“So,” Billy says, “about the name we write down.”

Right. This kid thinks this idol is going to work. He thinks that they will get the power to send someone home.

“I was thinking Rio?” he says, like it’s a question.

“Oh,” Agatha says, stupidly. She doesn’t know who she thought he was going to say, but Rio’s name feels like ice in her veins.

It makes sense on a basic level. Rio is a challenge threat. Rio is also probably about to cement her stupid fucking Death status by voting Agatha out tonight. Agatha feels a little sick. She tells herself it’s at the idea of her going home while Rio stays. Not the idea of writing down Rio’s name after her solid grip held Agatha through the night.

“I know you guys are… um… well,” Billy stammers. “I actually don’t know what you guys are, but Rio’s a huge threat. And also Alice is close with Jen, so we wouldn’t want to rock that boat just yet…”

Agatha turns sharply to him. It’s not much, but it’s something.

“Alice is close with Jen, huh?”

“Yeah,” Billy says with a shrug. “I mean, they’re friends.”

“Are they friends or are they working together, Teen?” Agatha asks. “Tell me, where is Alice right now?”

“Uh, I don’t know.”

“I’ll tell you. Alice is off with her best friend Jen and they are confirming that they’re writing down my name tonight.”

Billy shakes his head.

“No. Alice isn’t—look, Jen and Lilia might think they have her, but Alice is my Day One. That means something out here.”

Agatha laughs. “Sure it does, kid.”

“Well, it means something to me,” Billy says, a little harder than usual, which is still pretty soft, especially because he follows it up with, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean—”

“Don’t,” Agatha says. Which was the final season of Survivor to have a final two instead of a final three? rattles in her head. She squeezes her eyes shut. “If you want to write Rio’s name, fine.” Which was the final season of Survivor to have a final two instead of a final three? “But don’t get too comfortable with Alice, okay?”

She leaves out “when I’m gone.” Let the kid believe in his idol. Let the kid believe Agatha will be saved tonight. At least when she goes, she'll point out a threat on her way out.

“Alice will vote Rio tonight,” Billy says with confidence, “and then it will be three and three, and you’ll play the idol, and Rio will go.”

“What if Rio has an idol?” Agatha asks.

“Does she?”

“How would I know that?” Agatha asks. She does know that. “It’s not like we’re besties.”

Rio is just the woman who knows that Agatha needs white noise to fall asleep for at least 72 hours after her mother visits. Rio just knows Agatha’s favorite soup and her Dunkin’ order and parts of her that Agatha has shared under these very trees that she’s never shared with anyone else. No big deal.

Billy sighs. “Okay, if Rio has an idol and you both play them, first of all, that would be awesome, just from the perspective of a fan. Second of all, then we can just revote. I bet Alice could be convinced to vote Jen or Lilia if we have to revote.”

“Hmm,” Agatha says.

“Is there something you’re not telling me?” Billy asks. He’s looking at her, big eyes all focused.

For one thing, she’s not telling him that his strategy all hinges on a lie that she created.

“It’s Survivor, kid,” Agatha says instead, rolling her eyes for show more than anything else. “Everyone’s not telling somebody something, right, Billy Kaplan?”

As the sun starts to set both in the sky and on Agatha’s fourth and least successful time on this godforsaken television show, she tries one last time to find the idol. She has now examined every carving on the tree mail post, looked under every root. And there’s still nothing.

So she tries the next best thing.

“Hey, can we talk?” she asks Rio when she comes back to camp.

Rio is stoking the fire, which lights up her face in the near-dusk.

“About the game?” Rio asks. “Or about, um—”

“The game, you perv,” Agatha says.

Rio laughs, shaking her head in that irritatingly fond way.

“Fine,” Rio says.

They walk back to a clearing in the woods, dusky sunlight filtering through the trees.

“Wow,” Agatha says, looking around, “this looks like one of the clearings we used to sneak off to back in the day.”

Rio raises an eyebrow at her. “Trying to squeeze in a quickie before tribal?”

“Wouldn’t be the first time,” Agatha says, grinning.

Rio shakes her head again, looking down. She’s biting her lip. And God, Agatha is tempted. To spend her last few precious hours on this show doing one of her favorite things to do out here. She bets that the only thing that would make her forget the inevitability of going home is Rio’s hands. Rio has somehow always known which parts of her to touch to make her forget the rest of the world.

But.

But Rio can also be used. Everyone out here can be. And that is what Agatha needs to focus on right now.

“Hypothetical question,” Agatha asks. “If tonight, you played your idol and I played mine, who do you think would be the biggest threat? Who would you send home, Lady Death?”

Rio scoffs a little at the nickname but then she faces Agatha, arms crossed.

“So you’ve gotten your hands on an idol since this morning?”

Agatha shrugs. “Who can say?”

Rio laughs, like she can’t help herself.

“God, you're relentless.”

Out of Rio’s mouth, it sounds like a compliment. Agatha almost blushes.

“Answer my question, Vidal.”

“Fine,” Rio says. “Right now, even though she doesn’t know it, Alice has the most power. She has two pairs vying for her to complete their top three. If they get you or me out tonight, she will run this game. Plus, she just had 24 hours to debrief with one of the best players of all time.”

God, Agatha loves it when Rio talks strategy. Back in those first few days on Solomon Islands, Agatha kept being taken aback by how smart she was, how everyone else fell so easily for Agatha’s tricks, but Rio just watched her and admired her, then played on her same level. Agatha misses working with her like she misses meals out here; a gnawing hunger that she’s learned to live with.

“So you’d vote Alice?” Agatha says, keeping her head in the fucking game. “If you couldn’t vote me?”

“I thought this was hypothetical, darling.”

The nickname makes a sudden and unwelcome heat bloom in between Agatha’s ribs.

“You can’t call me darling if you’re writing my name down tonight,” Agatha snaps.

“Okay, sweetheart,” Rio says, with a grin.

God, she’s annoying. Agatha wants to slap her across the face and also tear off her clothes with her teeth.

“Okay, as in you’re not writing down my name?” Agatha asks.

“Well, it’s a wasted vote if you have an idol,” Rio says. “Hypothetically.”

“If only there was some way of knowing if I had an idol,” Agatha says with a smirk.

“If you don’t,” Rio says, “this would be really fucking desperate, wouldn’t it?”

“I don’t do desperate, sweetheart.”

Rio tilts her head a little. Then suddenly, she’s in Agatha’s space, crowding her so close that Agatha feels her back hit the rough bark of a palm tree. Her mind goes a little fuzzy; Rio is so close to her and her eyes are big and dark. She smells like the ocean and the earth and sweat and it’s somehow the intoxicating scent that Agatha’s ever experienced.

“If I recall,” Rio says in a low voice, “I’ve had you desperate in this very jungle.”

Agatha, in lieu of any biting comeback, just lets out a shaky breath, fueled by the deadly combination of proximity and memory. She can see how chapped Rio’s lips are from a month on this island, and Agatha wants to feel their roughness on every corner of her body.

From the way Rio’s looking at her, Agatha is pretty sure her want isn’t exactly one sided. And even though her body right now would want nothing more than to give in, there is one more higher up on her priority list.

“Please, baby,” she says softly, breath still low and shaky, “don’t vote for me tonight.”

Something shifts in Rio’s eyes, and then Rio pushes off the tree, moves out of Agatha’s space. It’s over a hundred degrees out, but Agatha feels the chill of Rio’s absence. Rio stands a few feet away, arms crossed, eyes boring into Agatha.

“Agatha,” she says, deep voice skating beautifully over her name, “did you really just bring me out here to talk strategy? Is it really all still about the game?”

“It’s always about the game, isn’t it?” Agatha counters.

“Not for me,” Rio says, simple and earnest. God, she’s not even saying it like an accusation, just like a fact. Agatha squeezes her eyes shut. Which was the final season of Survivor to have a final two instead of a final three?

It comes out of her involuntarily, a whisper that barely makes it three feet across the jungle to where Rio is standing.

“I should have taken you to the end.”

“What?” Rio’s voice is shaky, disbelieving.

Agatha doesn’t open her eyes, spitting out. “I should have taken you to final tribal on Old Blood vs New Blood. Instead of Wanda. I know that.”

“Agatha.” Rio’s voice is raw. “Agatha, open your eyes.”

Agatha does, for some stupid fucking reason. She opens them to see Rio’s dark and beautiful eyes, big and pleading.

“Tell me,” Rio says, voice firm, despite everything. “Tell me you’re saying this because it’s real, not just so I don’t vote for you tonight.”

“Can’t it be both?” Agatha asks, going for joking, but her voice breaks a little and she knows immediately it’s the wrong thing to say.

Rio laughs a little, shakes her head in that same fond way, but it’s tinged with something else now, something darker.

“No, darling,” she says quietly, “it can’t be both.”

Then she lets out a deep breath and leaves the clearing.

When she’s gone, Agatha slides down on the tree until she’s sitting on the dirt. She puts her head in her hands and forces herself to breathe. She can’t fucking take this any more. Can’t take Rio’s stupid eyes. Can’t take Rio being so fucking kind to her after everything.

Maybe it’s good she’s going home tonight.

The walk to tribal is solitary. Billy and Alice walk ahead of her, laughing together about something. Alice has had an extra spring in her step after seeing her mother. Nothing has ever been less relatable. Ahead of them, Jen and Lilia walk side by side while Rio leads the pack, as far away from Agatha as she can get. Perfect.

In the distance, thunder rumbles. They’ve been lucky so far not to have any rain out here. But everyone’s luck runs out at some point.

“So, Agatha,” Jeff says as soon as they sit. Of course this fucking asshole is choosing her first. “The six of you haven’t been quiet about being an alliance since the merge. But, now what? One of you has to get voted out today.”

“Wow, Jeffrey, you are so observant about your own game show,” Agatha says.

Jeff laughs, even though Agatha knows he hates it when she calls it a game show.

“Here’s the thing,” she says, cutting to the chase, “a good amount of these people sitting next to me have told me they are voting me out at six. To my face. But guess what. You were there at my very first tribal of the season. So was Jen. So was Lilia. So was Rio. You were all there when over half my tribe wrote down my name. And now, I have outlasted every single person who voted for me that night. So if people are planning on voting me out tonight, I sure hope they have a plan B.”

She grins at Jeff. This feels good. This feels easy. Sure, she’s talking out of her ass, but this is what she does. Maybe, just maybe, if she talks enough bullshit, she’ll at least get a tie out of this.

“Alice,” Jeff says, moving the conversation along. “You got to spend a whole night with your mom, who not only is your family member, but also one of the first winners of this game. Did that effect your gameplay out here?”

“Yes and no,” Alice says. She’s sitting to Agatha’s right and Agatha can practically feel the warmth of her smile. Ugh. “I mean, my mom and I haven’t always… seen eye to eye when I was growing up, but something about her being out here brought us closer. I can’t speak to gameplay but it—it was really nice to have her here with me. Felt like the world opened up a little.”

How touching. Agatha fiddles with the fake idol in her pocket for something to do with her hands that’s not clenching them into fists as Jeff and her tribe members drone on and on about fake strategies and their stupid fucking families.

“Billy,” Jeff finally says, “you won the immunity necklace today, I assume you’re keeping it for yourself.”

It’s ridiculous that Jeff still asks this question. Only two people in the over 20 years and 40 seasons of Survivor have ever given up the immunity necklace to another player. It’s almost a guarantee you will get voted out. Billy may be naive, but he’s not stupid.

“I think I’ll keep it on, Jeff,” Billy says with a grin. “It is my first individual immunity win after all.”

“Alright,” Jeff says. “Everyone except Billy is fair game. And it is time to vote.”

When Agatha goes up to vote, she uncaps the pen and takes a deep breath in. There is a brief second where she thinks about even the idea of writing down Rio’s name. Rio could be bluffing about the idol. Alice could be on their side and it could be a tie.

But Agatha won’t do it. Can’t risk it. She’s written down Rio on a piece of parchment like this only one time before and it made her sick. (Okay, technically twice, but when she voted for Rio at the first tribal of this season, that was just for a laugh.)

Besides, Agatha has been running scenarios of the slim chance that she will stay in this game all day, and the only one that is even a glimmer of a possibility hinges on Agatha writing down Alice’s name.

On the off chance that neither Alice nor Rio vote for Agatha, and instead vote for each other, that would make it a tie: two for Agatha, two for Alice, and two for Rio that will surely be negated by her idol.

After a tie comes revote. There’s a very large chance that someone will switch their vote on the revote, and once again, Agatha would be sent packing. But, off the fleeting hope that it remains a tie, then it would go to rocks. And if it came down to rocks—and Agatha prays to a god she doesn’t believe in that somehow all the odds line up for rocks—then her and Alice would both be safe, Rio would be safe because she played the idol, and Billy would be safe because he has the necklace, and only Jen or Lilia could go home. And Agatha would wake up another day with a one in five chance of winning this game.

Agatha is no statistician, but she thinks the odds of that happening are about fucking nothing.

Still, she writes down Alice’s name and hopes.

Once everyone’s voted, Jeff holds the pot of all six votes, and says his little line that he always does, like a trickster God reveling in having mortals’ fates in his hands.

“If anyone has a hidden immunity idol and they want to play it, now would be the time to do so.”

Agatha fingers the bundle in her pocket. She takes it out, feels the warm canvas that she ripped from the rice bag. She feels sick. She imagines people watching at home, imagines her mother watching at home, seeing Agatha face the kind of humiliation she has inflicted on others over the years. She can’t bear it.

“Agatha,” Billy hisses from behind her.

Agatha ignores him.

“Jeff,” Rio says, standing up. Of course. She doesn’t have any quip or clever line. She just gives Jeff her idol and says, “here you go.”

“This is a hidden immunity idol,” Jeff is saying over the ringing in Agatha’s ears, “any votes cast against Rio will not count.”

“Agatha,” Billy hisses again, “what are you waiting for?”

“I can’t,” she whispers back. She imagines her mother watching the TV and laughing at her idiot daughter for playing this fake idol, falling for a trick she’s played on so many. “I can’t.”

“Oh, fuck this,” Alice says from beside Agatha, and suddenly, she grabs the cloth-wrapped bundle in Agatha’s lap and is on her feet, presenting it to Jeff. “I’m playing this for Agatha.”

“What the hell?” Jen mutters. It would be funny if the idol was real. Hilarious actually.

“Sorry,” Alice says to Jen with a shrug and a smile. “I chose who I could beat.”

Agatha is barely paying attention. Jeff is unwrapping the idol and holding it up. Now is the wrong time to toot her own horn, but it does look really good for a fake idol. With Rio’s tutelage back the day, Agatha got very good at carving wood. If she squints, the crude snake she carved really does look like the real one. Almost remarkably like the real one. Agatha doesn’t remember being that good.

“This,” Jeff says, and Agatha braces herself, “is a hidden immunity idol. Any votes against Agatha will not count.”

“What the hell?” Agatha gasps out. She turns to Billy who just grins and gives her a thumbs up. Is he the second coming or something, turning water into wine and fake idols real? She stares at him, mouth open. In none of her scenarios did the idol become magically real.

“You’re welcome,” Alice whispers to her, grinning.

Oh fuck. Alice.

“I’ll read the votes,” Jeff says. “Rio, does not count. Agatha, does not count. Rio, does not count. Agatha, does not count.”

“This is crazy,” Billy says gleefully, smiling brightly.

Then Jeff says, “Alice,” and Billy’s smile drops.

“What the hell?” he gasps.

“One vote left,” Jeff says, holding it up. “The 14th person voted out of Survivor: Road to Redemption and the sixth member of our Jury is Alice.”

“What the fuck,” Billy snaps from behind her. “Agatha, what the fuck?”

Agatha doesn’t turn around. She looks instead at Alice who is staring right back at her, eyes wide in shock. It’s a look Agatha has seen on countless Survivor players she’s blindsided. But somehow, this feels different. If she came to tribal with the intent to send Alice Wu packing, it would have felt amazing, but Agatha feels like she just stepped off a boat, like her body hasn’t adjusted to her own reality yet, of somehow being safe while Alice isn’t.

Alice just stares at her and then turns to Billy, crushes him in a hug.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers into her shoulder. He might be crying. “I didn’t—”

“I know, kid,” she whispers. “I’ll be rooting for you.”

Then she takes her torch up to Jeff.

“Alice,” Jeff says solemnly, “the tribe has spoken.”

And then Alice disappears down the path. And Agatha is safe, after being on edge the whole day. she’s safe.

But somehow, she’s still unsteady. She still hasn’t adjusted to dry land.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” Billy demands as soon as they leave tribal, the anger on his face lit by the torch as they walk back to the beach. “Why the fuck would you write down Alice’s name? I told you she was with us. Why didn’t you trust me? God, why did I trust you?”

“If only someone told you not to trust Agatha Harkness,” Jen says, just loudly enough for Billy to hear.

“Shut up,” Billy snaps, scowling. “I know. I just never thought—” he turns back to Agatha. “I gave you that idol. And that’s how you use it? She is the one who made you play it and you sent her home?”

“I didn’t know it was real,” Agatha says honestly. It comes out ragged.

“Oh sure,” Billy says, “like I’d fall for that. I’m not making the mistake of trusting the most notorious liar on this beach again.”

Agatha narrows her eyes. She’s been here before. Thunder rumbles above them and through Agatha’s chest, at the stubbornness of this child.

“You’re the one who said you just loved my gameplay, kid. Well, this is it.”

“Well, maybe I was wrong,” he says. “Maybe I should have a different favorite player.”

There’s a flash of lighting, highlighting the disdain on Billy’s face, his admiration all but gone. In its place, the ease of simple rage.

“Oh, look at you,” Agatha sneers. “Playing all high and mighty, aren’t you? Pretending you’re above any betrayal, above any vote, when you’re really just as bad as the rest of us. No regret when it was Carol, when it was Kamala, when it was Shaun. But suddenly it’s your new bff you’ve known a whole month and you’re acting like you’re above a simple blindside. Like you’re a pillar of morality in a game built on deception.”

They’ve made it back to the beach now and Billy angrily shoves his torch in the sand, turning to her, face hard.

“Maybe take a lap, Billy,” Lilia says gently, hand on his shoulder.

He shakes off Lilia’s hand, glaring at her.

“I’m good,” he snaps. “This conversation is between me and Agatha.”

“Careful, Teen,” Rio warns. She steps between him and Agatha, always so fucking gallant. Agatha doesn't have time for the way it tugs at her chest. She doesn’t have time for Rio’s concern, for Rio still caring about her, when everyone else on this island has woken up to the fact that Agatha isn’t worth it.

“I’m fine,” Agatha snaps. “Let him talk. Let him berate me for using the idol he told me to use, that I didn’t know was real.”

“Stop lying,” Billy yells.

“I’m not,” she insists, voice breaking. 

“I don’t believe you,” he snaps, shaking his head. “Turns out everyone was right about you.”

He looks to the other players like they’re going to back him up, like he can’t fucking wait to use everyone against her, to build his case against the infamous villain Agatha Harkness, to snatch the million dollars from her hand.

Deja vu hits Agatha hard in the gut, rising like bile in her throat. Which was the final season of Survivor to have a final two instead of a final three?

Before she even realizes what’s she’s saying, she spits out, “God, you’re so much like your fucking mother.”

Lighting strikes, highlighting the absolute shock on his face, Billy Maximoff finally speechless. 

Then the sky opens up and pours.

Chapter Text

Billy Maximoff isn’t exaggerating when he says that his favorite thing to do in the entire world is to watch television with his mother.

His earliest memories involve lying on the stained brown couch in their basement, head in Wanda’s lap, as she stroked his hair and explained some old sitcom to him, while his dad and his brother played outside.

For the first 12 years of his life, Billy’s family fell into their typical roles easily and simply; the nerdy skinny brother inside with his mom, the energetic athletic brother outside with his dad. Perfectly normal on all levels.

Until that one unassuming day when a car went off the highway too fast, and the driver swerved into the bike lane. A senseless act of carelessness, that on any normal day would just be a quick re-adjust to get back on the road. But that exact moment was when Billy’s dad was riding his bike home from work and suddenly, they weren’t a normal family anymore. Suddenly, Billy was in a hospital waiting room, trying not to overhear his mother crying.

Tommy couldn't sit still, jumping up to go to the cafeteria or the vending machine or the water fountain, but Billy felt like he couldn’t move, white-knuckling his mom’s iPad, and turning the volume way up so he couldn’t hear the beeping machines and the chatter of the doctors and could only hear people on an island screaming at each other.

“Coping mechanism,” was the term the family therapist used a few months later, when Billy admitted that the only way he could take his mind off of the fact that his father just wasn’t there anymore was to watch TV.

“Who cares what she says?” Billy’s mom said, driving him home from therapy that day. Wanda had eyes on the road. Extra careful now. Billy still didn’t like to be in cars. “If TV makes you feel better, then watch as much as you want.”

So he did. They both did. Tommy’s “coping mechanism” involved simultaneously being on the track team and the lacrosse team and the soccer team, but Billy and Wanda shared in theirs, curled up on the couch together eating dinner and watching whatever was on, trying to convince themselves that nothing else existed except what was on screen.

What was on screen, the fall after Billy’s dad died, was Survivor: Solomon Islands.

“You can tell the people who have never actually had to survive,” Wanda pointed out as the new season started. “See that man? He thinks he’s tough because he goes to the gym, but he has never known what it's like to spend a night out in the cold.”

Billy nodded. He lived in suburban New Jersey, he also had no idea what it was like to spend a night out in the cold. He knew his mom did, though. At that point, all knowledge of his mother’s childhood was conveyed in whispered conversations he heard behind closed doors and weird Eastern European movies that Billy didn’t understand. But he knew, even then, that she knew what it meant to truly survive.

“She has,” Wanda said, pointing to a woman on screen, off in the jungle, looking for idols while everyone else worked on the shelter. “That one.”

“Agatha, I think,” Billy said.

They watched together as Agatha found an idol on Day One, pocketed it, and then immediately started making a fake one.

Wanda nodded. “You can just tell. For everyone else, survival means a roof over their head. For her… it means finding what she needs to stay alive.”

“Huh,” Billy said.

As the season progressed, Wanda turned out to be right about Agatha. About the whole thing.

“Holy crap,” Billy said, when, at the third tribal council of the season, Agatha—with the help of Rio, another woman in her tribe who seemed downright thrilled to go along with Agatha’s schemes—constructed a lie that got the tribe's unofficial leader sent home. And no one could trace it back to her. “She’s amazing.”

“Language,” Wanda said lightly. “And I told you, she has survival instincts."

“You have survival instincts,” Billy said casually. “Like, you saw that blindside coming when no one else did.”

“Twists and turns!” Jeff Probst yelled from the TV after tribal. “You think you can outwit with the best of them? Apply now to be on Survivor.”

“Mom.” The idea came to Billy like a lightbulb in a cartoon. “You should apply.”

Wanda laughed, something that was all too rare in those days.

“Billy, honey, that is one of the worst ideas I’ve ever heard.”

“Why? You have the skills. You make fires in the backyard, you swim fast, you can make people do what you want.”

“What do you mean I can make people do what I want?”

Billy sat up; he was getting excited now. “Like when they tried to kick Tommy off the lacrosse team because of his grades—”

“Well their system is flawed,” Wanda said, and Billy could see an angry flush on her cheeks at the memory. “They disregarded the fact that the midterms were right after… he lost a family member. Not to mention that the way they teach history has a fundamental bias—”

“Yeah, yeah, I get it,” Billy cut her off. “But you told Vice Principal Proctor off so hard that he was apologizing to you, and now the whole school lets me and Tommy do whatever we want.”

“Well, I hope not whatever you want.”

“My point is,” Billy said, “what you are doing is what she is doing.”

On screen, during the “Next Time on Survivor," Agatha looked at the camera and said, “if they thought the Luke elimination was bad… they have no idea what I have planned.”

“I’m not sure if that’s a compliment,” Wanda said.

“It is,” Billy insisted. “She’s so good at this game! Like this is only the third episode, but she has something special. I think you would too.” Billy took a deep breath in, looked down at his hands. “And it would maybe be nice to just go out there and do something exciting. After… this year. Something that’s not taking care of us or dealing with paperwork. Something you’re good at and could show everyone how awesome you are.”

“You’re too sweet, Billy,” Wanda said. She was shaking her head, but there was something in her eyes when she turned back the TV. A spark that hadn’t come out much after the accident. A spark Billy was determined to reignite.

By the time Billy turned 13, his uncle came to stay with them for six weeks, while his mom went off to film Survivor.

Wanda, obnoxiously, stuck to her NDA. Even when she got back home, body starving but face joyous, she didn’t tell Billy how far she made it, didn’t tell him who she was playing with. But Billy knew she made it far. She had a spring in her step she hadn’t had since his dad was alive.

It wasn’t until he saw the first cast image for Old Blood vs. New Blood that Billy saw who his mom had competed against.

“Are you kidding me?” He asked when she picked him up from school. “You’re playing with Agatha Harkness? And you didn’t tell me?”

Wanda looked at him, shook her head.

“Don’t meet your heroes, Billy,” she said solemnly.

“What do you mean? She can’t have been more cutthroat that she was on Solomon Islands.”

“You’ll just have to watch when it airs,” Wanda said cryptically.

And Billy did. Oh boy, Billy did. If he was fanatical about Survivor before, it was nothing compared to this, to watching his mother slay the competition down boots every Wednesday night, and to watch Agatha Harkness do the same.

“Please,” he begged Wanda after the first episode, “please just tell me what the situation is with Agatha and Rio, are they dating or what?”

“Their personal life is none of my business.”

Billy groaned. “You’re killing me here.”

But he loved it. He loved every minute of it. He loved the pride on his mom’s face when her tribe won. He loved watching the woman he admired most on TV and the woman he admired most in real life get swapped to the same tribe. He loved how intense it got post-merge, how it became clear that not only was Wanda good at this, but she was on the same level as Agatha.

At top seven, when Nick Scratch went home, something shifted.

“If you had voted with Agatha, maybe she would switch to your sub-alliance,” Billy told Wanda after that tribal.

“Oh, so now you have notes?” Wanda said with a grin. “Just keep watching, kid.”

And he did. He watched his own mother play the game like a pro. He watched her and Agatha grow closer after the Nick elimination, watched Agatha help Wanda tie together a fake idol in the woods and give it to Todd Davis, and watched Rio fume in the background.

It was awesome. Subterfuge, betrayal, plot twists. Everything one could want in a season of Survivor. And it was his mom.

“This is crazy,” Billy said, when his mom made it to the final episode, “this is crazy. You did it.”

She grinned at him. It was a smile he was seeing more of recently, watching this show with her again, like she was coming alive.

The final vote reading was filmed live in New York, right after as finale aired, months after the contestants left the island, months after the votes were cast for who won. Wanda took Billy and Tommy to the filming of the vote read and the reunion, but forced them to watch from the green room, instead of being out there with the audience.

“I don’t want all of the country to know who you are,” she explained. “I didn’t say your names on the show for a reason.”

“It’s not like Billy and Tommy are uncommon,” Tommy pointed out.

“They are if you slap Maximoff at the end of them,” Wanda said. “So sit, watch the finale, and see the votes read. But don’t go out there and talk to anyone. You hear that, Billy?”

“Yes,” Billy said sullenly.

He did not think it was fair that he was going to be in the same building as Agatha Harkness, but couldn’t even talk to her. He got that his mom wanted to keep them out of the public eye, but come on.

Reluctantly, he sat on the green room couch with his brother and his uncle and watched the show. The finale started with a top four. Billy was afraid it would come down to a firemaking tie break, but it didn’t. Wanda and Agatha and Rio all voted as one, and John’s torch got snuffed. Billy thought they might go to final tribal next—the show had been waffling between top two and top three for the past few seasons—but it didn’t. There was one more immunity challenge, one that Agatha won handily. Billy sighed. His mom making it to top three was awesome, incredible really, but even with the weird vibes the last few episodes, there was no way Agatha would take Wanda to the end instead of Rio.

“I don’t think we’re getting a million dollars,” Billy muttered to his brother.

On screen, Billy watched his mother take her one-on-one with Agatha, begging for her life.

“Listen,” Wanda said on screen, “I know you’re going to vote me out, I know you and Rio are close, but…” Her eyes welled up with tears. “If this past year has taught me anything, it’s that nothing is more important than family. I would do anything for my boys, and if you were in my position, I know you would too. If I had—if I knew what Nick meant to you, I wouldn’t have voted him out. Gameplay be damned. But I guess Rio didn’t feel the same.”

Billy’s jaw was on the floor. God damn, his mom was being manipulative as hell. She was fighting to stay alive, using every tool in her arsenal, using her own emotions as a weapon, using the Agatha Harkness playbook right back in her own face.

It was awesome.

Billy still didn’t think it would work, not really. Wanda had only been Agatha’s ally for a few episodes, while Rio had been for two seasons. But somehow, miraculously, when Jeff read that final vote, it said Rio.

“Holy shit,” Billy said aloud. “Holy shit, Mom is top two. Mom is top two with Agatha Harkness.”

And juries didn’t like Agatha Harkness. Maybe, just maybe, Wanda could win this.

Billy leaned forward in his seat for the entirety of final tribal council. He wondered if Wanda would keep up this angle, this sweet grieving mother point of view, or if she would get all scary like she did when she found out that one of the older kids took Billy’s lunch in the third grade.

It turns out, Billy’s bully and Vice Principal Proctor got off easy.

“You have played this game,” Wanda was saying coldly to Agatha, “with all strategy and no loyalty. And we can all see it.”

“Oh look at you all high and mighty,” Agatha said, teeth bared. “Like you didn’t vote out your own alliance.”

“I didn’t vote out my Day One,” Wanda shot back. “And I didn’t vote out my ‘Survivor Son.’”

“Neither did I,” Agatha snapped, hard and cold. The cameras picked up the blind fury in her eyes, the realization that Wanda played her just like Agatha played countless others.

“She didn’t,” Rio piped up from the jury.

“I don’t need your help,” Agatha hissed at Rio. “And I don’t need your vote.”

“I think you do,” Wanda said, grinning. “I think your little girlfriend is the only jury vote you’re going to get. Not even sweet Nicky.”

And that’s when Agatha tried to physically attack Wanda, and Jeff had to intervene.

“Dude, mom is intense,” Tommy whispered from Billy’s right.

“I may have created a monster,” Billy admitted.

“Nah,” Uncle Pietro said jovially from Billy’s left. “She was like this as a kid. You can take the girl out of fighting on the streets for food, but you can’t take fighting on the streets for food out of the girl, you know?”

Billy, in fact, did not know. But he did just watch his mother actively demolish Billy’s favorite Survivor player on TV. Billy watched the screen, watched the hard rage in Agatha’s eyes, the satisfaction in Wanda’s. He was torn between nausea and glee. He loved his mom, he wanted his mom to win, but he couldn’t lie, he did feel bad for Agatha.

Especially when the votes were read. When Jeff read the one singular “Agatha” and then “Wanda” over and over again until, “the winner of Survivor: Old Blood vs. New Blood is Wanda.”

Then everything was a blur. Billy was being squeezed by Tommy, by Uncle Pietro, all of them screaming and yelling at the TV as Wanda got that big smile on her face, that million dollar smile. Billy was aware he was crying and laughing at the same time when Tommy yelled “dude, we’re rich!”

And then, during the commercial break before the reunion, Wanda came back to the green room and hugged both her sons, all of them screaming and crying as one. Maybe it was the adrenaline or the excitement of it all, but Billy felt more like a family in that moment than he had since his dad died.

It wasn’t until Wanda had to leave to go film the reunion that Billy noticed it. On the screen, still streaming into the green room, sat Agatha Harkness. Alone. Defeated. Billy watched as Rio went up to her, put a hand on Agatha’s shoulder, only for Agatha to shake it off, to push Rio away.

Then, the commercial break was over and a grin for the cameras was plastered on Agatha’s face as she once again accepted her second place win.

“Now,” Jeff said, “I gotta ask. Who here was the one vote for Agatha?”

Billy felt his eyes going to Rio. Even though Agatha didn’t take her to the end, Rio was the only jury member to vote for Agatha on Solomon Islands, he was sure she would be for this one too. But Rio didn’t raise her hand. Nick did.

Nick raised his hand, and Agatha let out a gasp bordering on a sob, right there on TV. Billy leaned in closer, so curious about what happened there, about what was under the surface. But then Jeff moved on—right to Rio.

“Rio, you and Agatha spent almost this whole game as a tight alliance, but she didn’t get your vote?”

Rio looked downright miserable. She looked to Agatha, but Agatha just looked straight at Jeff.

“I cast that vote months ago,” Rio said, voice cracking. “It was the day after she voted me out and I was reactive, I guess. Bitter. If we were voting now, I would a hundred percent vote for Agatha to get the million. She deserves it. After two seasons of mastering strategy, I think she deserves that win more than anyone else. Even Wanda.”

“Well, isn’t that sweet,” Agatha sneered. “An empty promise. Classic coming from you.”

“How is that classic?” Rio snapped back. “I’m not the one who broke our alliance, that was all you.”

“And I’d do it again.”

Rio put her head in her hands, groaned. “You can’t seriously still be mad about… I can’t control all the votes, Agatha, you know that.”

“But you can control you own.”

“How many times to I have to—” Rio let out a strangled sound from the back of her throat. Her eyes were big and pleading. Even through the screen, Billy felt like he could fall into them. Then she took a deep breath in. “You know what, fine. Fine, Agatha if you want to shut me out because of a stupid vote on a stupid game, then do it. I’m done.”

Then, in a fit of fury, she got up, tore off her mic pack, and threw it on the seat. She shot one last look at Agatha, and all the rage seemed to fly out of her.

“When you’re ready to talk,” she said softly, “I’ll be here.”

And then she left.

“And we’re gonna go to commercial!” Jeff announced, too cheery.

Billy just stared at the screen. What happened? He already knew his mom was going to be tight-lipped about it. She was tight-lipped about it all for some reason.

Even on the car ride home, Wanda didn’t answer any of Billy’s questions about Agatha, about Rio, about why it all got so intense.

“Billy,” she said, laughing. “We’re a million dollars richer. And a lot of that is thanks to you. Let’s just live in that for a while.”

And Billy conceded. He lived in it for a while. He waited until the press died down, until they got the bathroom remodel they couldn't afford before, waited until things settled down to an approximation of normalcy.

In fact, it took until the next Survivor season aired, Billy and Wanda watching on the couch like they always did, no longer brown and stained, but new and blue and velvet (Billy picked it out).

He waited till the yell of the new opening credits to look up at Wanda and ask, “so what really happened between you and Agatha?”

“Billy,” Wanda said softly, stroking his hair, “you know it’s not real, right? It’s all a game. I said what I needed to win, and so did she. Never forget that it’s just a game.”

Years later, when Billy himself got the call to be on Survivor, Wanda repeated that very same thing.

“Never forget that it’s just a game.”

Day 34

Billy may have forgotten that it’s just a game.

He wakes up cold and damp, having retreated back to the shelter last night only after everyone else was already asleep. He’s up before the other four, the emptiness in his stomach tearing him from sleep, as it has for the last month.

But today, the hunger is joined by something worse, something that feels even more hollow, especially when he sees the sleeping face of Agatha Harkness. She looks almost peaceful in sleep, like any other person, not a notorious liar who he foolishly thought maybe wouldn’t be a notorious liar.

She’s sleeping in Rio’s arms, as she’s done for the past few nights, something that Billy thought was adorable up until yesterday, but now it just makes him curious. He wonders what kind of person Rio is to care so deeply for a someone like Agatha.

As if she can feel Billy’s gaze on Agatha, Rio cracks an eye open. Only to narrow it at Billy in a glare that makes him shiver even more than the still pounding rain outside. Silently and slowly, Rio removes her arms from around Agatha and sits up, leaning into Billy’s space.

Eyes focused on him, she mouths something incomprehensible.

“What?” Billy whispers.

Rio rolls her eyes. She points at Agatha.

“Apologize,” she hisses.

“Me?” Billy asks, “apologize to her?”

His voice unintentionally rises. Rio glares even harder, putting a finger to her lips. Then she dramatically sighs and gingerly crawls out of the shelter, gesturing for him to join her.

Billy, even though he doesn’t think the chances of Rio slicing his throat with the machete are exactly zero, follows her out of the shelter and into the jungle, where there is at least a little cover from the rain. He’s still shivering, though.

Rio turns to him. She’s not holding the machete, thank god, but her arms are crossed in a way that makes the bulging skull on her bicep suggest that she has ended many lives with her bare hands.

“Yes, Teen,” she says, a condescending lilt to her voice. “You apologize to her.”

“What are you even—” Billy sputters. In his defense, he just woke up and he’s cold and he’s hungry and he has felt like he’s about to cry for the last eight hours. “It’s none of your business, actually.”

“Oh, little Billy Maximoff,” Rio says, shaking her head. Jesus, did everyone know? “You should know by now that everything to do with Agatha Harkness is my business.” Rio gets a small smile on her face, like she’s sharing an inside joke with herself. “At least, according to the great state of Vermont.”

“What?” Billy asks.

Rio rolls her eyes. “Don’t worry about it. Listen, you acted like a dick last night. You hurt Agatha’s feelings. Tell her you're sorry.”

“No!” Billy says. He will admit, he did act like a dick last night, but, “I think that Agatha sending Alice home and lying to me about it is worth hurting a feeling or too. She’s a big girl.”

“Oh no,” Rio says flatly, “someone got voted out on the getting voted out game. Better have a temper tantrum about it.”

“I didn’t—” Billy groans. “Look, maybe I wasn’t the most mature about it, but I have every right to be pissed at her. Aren’t you like, the queen of being pissed at Agatha Harkness?”

“You don’t know anything about me,” Rio says with a cold smile. Billy’s not gonna lie, she is straight up scary this morning. “And no matter how many episodes of a television show you’ve seen, you don’t know jack shit about Agatha Harkness.”

“I know she’s a liar,” Billy grits out. “She lied about Alice, she lied about the idol, she lied about top three—”

“Oh my god,” Rio groans. “I have no idea why she even likes hanging out with you, you’re so annoying.”

“Hey!”

“Listen kid, it’s just as dangerous and naive to assume that someone is always lying as it is to assume that they’re always telling the truth. People go so far beyond what is presented on television after the edit. People are… complicated and interesting and have dealt with things that people like you and I will never fully understand. But we can try. And if you… if you want to prove that you’re more than just a teenager, that you actually are an adult, maybe just try to think of any perspective that’s not your own, okay?”

Billy doesn’t know what to say. He stares at her for a second. He thinks, not for the first time on this game, that he is so fucking out of his element. He misses his mom.

“I’m gonna see if there’s any dry wood in this forest,” Rio says, sounding almost bored. “You do whatever you want to. Just think about what I said.”

And Billy does. He actually can’t stop thinking about it. About Rio’s earnestness from someone who at times seems to be entirely made up of sarcasm. He thinks of Rio at the Old Blood vs New Blood reunion, the way her voice cracked. He thinks of the way Agatha’s voice also cracked last night when she insisted she wasn’t lying. But she was lying. She had to be.

By the time he gets back to camp, he’s freezing and confused and still on a constant verge of tears. The others have risen by now, Jen doing her best to light a fire in this weather, while Lilia tries to act as a shield from the pouring rain. It’s not working.

Billy takes in the sight of them. Agatha aside, he was definitely an asshole to Lilia and Jen too last night. And they didn’t do anything.

“Hey,” he says stupidly, as he approaches the fire pit, “can I do anything to help?”

“Maybe not have a dramatic outburst,” Jen says, with a dry smile, “at least not until we get fire. It’s too early.”

“Right,” Billy says. “I am sorry about that. I didn’t mean to…”

“You know you weren’t the only one who was close with Alice,” Jen says.

“I know,” Billy says, looking down at his feet, “I just got, uh… emotional. I really am sorry.”

“Billy,” Lilia says gently, “I don’t think we are the ones you need to apologize to.”

Billy doesn’t understand. He thought everyone hated Agatha, isn’t that their whole thing? And he has one freakout and suddenly they’re on her side.

“Oh, don’t get him to apologize on my behalf,” Agatha says from the shelter. Billy starts a little, he didn’t see her. “You know how these Maximoffs are. Always on their high horse.”

Billy’s empty stomach swoops a little. Hearing his last name aloud from Agatha’s mouth feels surreal, a nightmare come to life. He breathes in and makes his way to the shelter. Agatha is still lying down, hands behind her head, like she’s lounging on a beach chair, not in a bamboo structure that has a leak in its tarp roof.

Billy sits on the edge of the shelter, as far from Agatha as he can get while still being covered from the rain. He pulls his knees to his chest.

“So,” he says awkwardly, “about last night.”

“You know what,” Jen says from the fire, “This isn’t lighting. I’m gonna see if there’s any dry wood.”

“Let me join you,” Lilia says. “Might need the extra hands.”

Then they scamper away, leaving Billy alone in the rain with Agatha. He clears his throat, doesn’t look her in the eyes as he asks, “when did you figure it out?”

“It’s hard to pinpoint a moment,” Agatha muses. “Maybe seeing Flashdance in theaters? Something about all that water hitting a Jennifer Beals on the big screen really awoke something in me.”

“Oh my god,” Billy says, trying very hard not the laugh, “not when you figured out you were gay, when you figured out about me.”

“Oh, I knew you were gay from the first moment I spotted you.”

“Agatha!”

Billy can’t help it, he grins a little. Agatha smiles back, and for a brief second, it feels like they are where they were 24 hours ago.

But they aren’t. Billy’s smile falls, and Agatha notices. Then she sighs, sits up and faces him, cross-legged in the shelter.

“It was a good lie,” she says. “Rebecca Kaplan on Peru. Her son was named William and he was about your age, right?”

“Yeah,” Billy says. “It kind of just came to me on that first day. I knew it would put a huge target on my back if people knew I was Wanda Maximoff’s son. Especially you. And I remembered Rebecca on family visits asked her husband about William, and she always talking about him, so it seemed like the way to go.”

“Smart kid,” Agatha says.

The rush of pride at the compliment doesn’t stop just because Billy’s mad at her. He still feels warm from it, from this woman he’s admired for her smarts telling him he did good.

“But,” Agatha says, “William Kaplan is an only child.”

“So you figured it out at family visits?”

Agatha laughs. “Damn kid, who do you take me for? I figured it out the first day I met you. Family visits were just the nail in the coffin.”

“How?” Billy asks. He was so careful.

“Your mother—before she decided to flay my ass on live TV—was my… ally in this game. We got close, talked when the cameras weren’t looking. She wanted to protect you and your brother from the spotlight, but when we weren’t being watched, she wouldn’t shut the fuck up about you guys. It was, ‘Billy and Tommy this, Billy and Tommy that, you know I’m on this show because my favorite son Billy encouraged me. He loves Survivor soooo much, he loves you so much. When this game’s over, can you sign my gay son Billy’s poster of you in his bedroom?’”

“I don’t think she said gay son.”

“It was implied,” Agatha says with a raise of her eyebrows. “And when I met you, when you said ‘oh hi there my name’s Billy and gee whiz, I’m such a huge fan,’ it all came together. Plus, you have her eyes. And they do this thing when you lie. Shifty.”

“No, they don’t!” Billy protests, glancing at his hands.

Agatha shrugs. “They’re doing it right now.”

Billy makes his eyes go still, looking right at Agatha.

“Whatever,” he says. “Sorry I’m not as good of a liar as you.”

Agatha sighs. She looks out at the rain, hand fiddling with a loose thread on her shorts.

“I know you don’t believe me,” she says, quieter than Billy’s ever heard her. “But I really did think that idol was fake.”

“Why?” Billy asks, hearing the desperation in his own voice. That’s the big question. Why did she think the idol was fake? Why did she vote Alice? Why didn’t she tell him anything?

“Because,” Agatha says, mimicking his tone, “the real idol didn’t have a wrapping. The real idol was right on the treemail post. But I buried a fake one near there, and I wrapped it in that same canvas, the one from the rice sack. What you had looked exactly like the one I buried.”

“I found the fake one you buried,” Billy says. “The day of the tribe swap. You did a pretty shitty job covering it up. There was no note, nothing official saying it was an idol, so I figured it wasn’t real. You’ve gotten better at carving, but don’t forget that I’ve seen close ups of every fake idol you’ve buried. So when I found the real one, I just put it in the same canvas because it was right there.”

Agatha laughs. “Well, look at you go. Putting your little obsession to good use.”

Something about her comment gets under his skin. The way she still talks to him like a child.

“You really didn’t think there was a chance it was real? That I was good enough to spot the fake one? You still think I’m a dumb teenager, don’t you? That I’m not on your level?”

“You’re not dumb,” Agatha says, so fiercely that Billy shuts up. “You’re very smart, Billy. But you are a teenager. And you are not on my level. You threw a tempter tantrum because your ally was voted out. You yelled at all four other people in this game, alienating yourself. How do you expect to go to the final four, the final three, win over a jury with that attitude?”

“I—” Billy doesn’t even have a response for that. She, frustratingly, makes a good point. “I don’t know.”

“You have a big heart, kid,” Agatha says, and there’s something so sad in her tone. “But don’t let that stop you from playing a good game. It sure as hell didn’t stop your mother.”

“So what exactly is the beef there?” Billy asks, before he can help himself. “She never actually went into detail.”

Agatha laughs, shakes her head. “You know, I bet she’s going to be pissed that we were in an alliance for so long. But I’m sure she’ll be downright thrilled when she sees how it broke up.”

Billy clears his throat, looks out a the rain.

“It doesn’t… it doesn’t have to be that we were in an alliance,” he says slowly. “If you still… want to be?”

Agatha looks at him, disbelieving.

“Seriously?”

“Yeah,” Billy says, barely believing it himself. “I mean, what you said makes sense. I just pissed off a lot of people, and need to… well, I guess that sitting next to you at final tribal is kind of my only hope for getting jury votes.”

Agatha laughs, long and loud, and somehow, even after everything, the sound is still comforting.

“You flatter me, kid,” she says. “But we still need a third.”

The absence of Alice sits like bile in his chest. Alice who would still be here if it wasn’t for this woman he was somehow still aligning himself with.

“I’ll work on it,” he says, voice still rough with unshed tears. “Listen I—I still want to go to the end with you. But, Agatha, I don’t think I can trust you anymore.”

She looks at him, eyes sharp and guarded and almost hurt, before she stares back out at the rain.

“Good,” she says, clipped. “Trusting people out here is rookie behavior. Guess you’re finally learning from me.” She clears her throat. “All this rain is making me need to piss. Hold down the fort, Teen.”

And then she’s gone and Billy is alone in the shelter, watching the rain fall. And with his solitude, his tears finally break out from behind his eyes and he puts his head between his knees and sobs.

He is on his favorite television show. He is on his favorite television show with his favorite player to have ever played the game.

But right now, more than anything, he wishes he was at home, watching TV with his mom.

Chapter Text

Day 35

“What do you think about top three?”

The question takes Rio by surprise.

If she’s honest, she hasn’t been thinking about top three at all. Her thoughts over the last 36 hours have been that of a caveman: rain wet, need fire, need food, need woman, need woman to talk to me, need woman to talk to me instead of that insipid child that she insists on still spending time with after he hurt her, why woman avoid me when she should avoid him?

It’s been exhausting.

“Top three?” Rio repeats back to Jen as they slowly make their way to the reward challenge.

The rain hasn’t let up since it started, and something as simple as walking down the beach feels like a Herculean feat, one foot in front of the other in the wet sand. Rio looks about ten feet in front of her where Agatha’s wet hair sticks to her back all while she’s laughing at some joke that Billy said, like they can just be friends now. Like she can forgive him in three seconds, but Rio has waited six years and still nothing?

“Hey,” Jen says, snapping her fingers, “earth to Rio.”

Rio jolts, eyes focusing on Jen, who has an all too knowing look on her face.

“Right,” Rio says. She hangs back a little, slows her pace so that she and Jen fall a few more yards behind Billy and Agatha, but still ahead of Lilia. She drops her voice. “So you want me to replace Alice in your top three?”

“Well, when you put it like that,” Jen says, “you make me sound like a cold and calculating bitch.”

“You are a cold and calculating bitch,” Rio says simply. “That’s a compliment, by the way.”

“Yeah, I know your taste in women,” Jen says with a sideways grin.

Rio can’t help it, she lets out a laugh.

“Fair point.”

“But,” Jen says, “taste in women aside, do you really want to go to the end with that?” She gestures at Billy and Agatha in front of them. “I know that reality TV is famously messy, but come on.”

“Well some would say,” Rio counters, “that going to the end with a messy duo is a great way to get jury votes.”

“Sure, Rio, let’s all pretend the reason you’d want to go to the end with Agatha has anything to do with the jury.”

Fucking Jen.

“Sure, Jen,” Rio says, matching Jen’s tone, “let's all pretend that the reason you want to go to the end with me has anything to do with them.”

She gestures again at the cursed duo ahead of them.

“What do you mean?” Jen asks.

Rio rolls her eyes. “You don’t have to play coy. It makes sense. You, me, and Lilia have been on the same tribe since day one. We betrayed the same people. You’re worried that if there’s a bitter jury, they would cast a vote for Billy or Agatha just because they didn’t turn on most of the jury the way you did, right?”

Jen just looks at Rio for a moment. Then she lets out a laugh.

“You know you could easily win this game if it was actually your focus.”

Rio shrugs. “Maybe.”

“Maybe to you winning or maybe to top three?”

“Maybe,” Rio repeats with a small smile.

“Cryptic ass,” Jen mutters, chuckling. “Just think about it. And you know that if you sit at final tribal with Agatha, you’ll be a joke right? Failing to do the one thing that you said you’d do on day one?”

Rio, quite frankly, doesn’t give a shit about being a joke if it meant she could sit at the end with Agatha. If it meant that, after final tribal, after production flies them home, that Agatha would still be beside Rio, would finally come home with her. Rio would sacrifice her game in a heartbeat for that.

But Rio’s not an idiot. Her pipe dream of Agatha packing her bags and going back to live at Rio’s little farmhouse seems pretty unrealistic when Agatha won’t even have one real conversation with Rio out here, will barely even look at her after Alice’s elimination, even if she still falls asleep in Rio’s arms.

“Are you ready for your final reward challenge?” Jeff asks when the five of them are gathered on the beach, shivering through the wind and the rain.

Jeff looks like he just stepped out of his trailer, cheery even as he’s getting soaked.

“If we can win a damn roof over our heads,” Lilia says.

Jeff chuckles warmly.

“You’re not far off. Today you will be competing for a brand new 2025 Jeep Wrangler.”

And there, through the rain, is a crew member driving a gigantic Jeep onto the beach.

“Shut up,” Billy murmurs, in awe.

“You don’t strike me as a car guy,” Agatha says, gifting the little bastard with a smile.

“I’m really not,” Billy says darkly, before he plasters a smile on his face. “But, the Survivor car reward challenge… it’s iconic. I didn’t think it would ever come back. After you know, the curse.”

“Billy,” Jeff says, grinning, “why don’t you tell us about this ‘curse.’”

“No one who wins the car ever wins the game,” Billy says. “It’s always one of the last reward challenges, and the victor is always confident that the curse won’t affect them, but they never win. I thought that you guys were done with the car challenge after Solomon Islands, but…”

“If you’ve learned anything on Survivor, Billy,” Jeff says. “It’s that this show is never predictable. And personally, I don’t believe in curses. Do you guys?”

Rio feels like she’s cursed into listening to these two boys talk about cars, but she answers with a resounding “no!” just like they are supposed to.

“Now, Rio,” Jeff says, “I gotta ask. You were the last person to win the car reward challenge until now.”

Rio remembers. As if Rio could forget. One of her favorite challenge wins, curse or no. Her eyes catch Agatha’s and Agatha grins at her, like she can’t help it. Like she’s also remembering that day, remembering fogging up the windows of that Ford F-150 courtesy of Survivor. Like Agatha also remembers the year after that, complaining about how far she would have to step so far up to get into the front seat of Rio’s truck, but doing it anyway, feet on the dash, windows down as they drove through the New England countryside.

“I sure was,” Rio says, smiling in spite of herself.

“And do believe it’s cursed?”

“Absolutely not,” Rio says. “I have some great memories in that truck.” She eyes the Jeep, eyes Agatha watching her, grins even wider. “But I would love to grow the collection.”

The idea of owning not one, but two gas guzzlers is actually against Rio’s personal code of ethics, but fuck it. She has a plan.

“Alright,” Jeff says, before going on to explain the challenge, which involves diving into the ocean for puzzle pieces, then using those pieces to build a staircase. Whoever makes it to the top of their staircase first wins. Boring, but easy. “The winner of this week's challenge will win not only this 2025 Jeep Wrangler, but get to go on a joyride down the beach using Jeep’s all wheel drive. At the end of your drive, you will be given two piping hot Domino’s Pizzas—only $8.99 each if you order right now on the app—to eat inside the car, safe from the wet and the cold.”

“Wow,” Agatha drawls, “only $8.99 on the app, what a steal. I just love a Domino's pizza.”

Rio laughs. They are always told to notch up the enthusiasm for the brands featured in the rewards and Agatha always hams it up more than even the producers want.

“Worth playing for?” Jeff asks.

“Hell yeah,” Rio says, joining the chorus of everyone else. No offense to the rest of them, but this prize is Rio’s. It has to be.

It turns out not to be much of a challenge. Being submerged in the ocean actually feels nice compared to being wet on land. Rio easily pulls ahead in the diving portion, and then even more so when they have to untie the wet ropes of the puzzle bags with their pruned fingers.

“Rio is pulling away with an early lead,” Jeff is yelling, “Jen and Agatha are still in this, but Billy and Lilia are quickly falling out of this challenge.”

It’s music to her ears. Rio pushes through the numbness in her fingers, into her shorts chafing her thighs, into the starvation that’s become second nature. She pushes through it all until she has her pieces, and then she can easily see how they fit onto the steps. She has only three pieces left, then two, then one, then…

“Rio wins reward!”

That’s fucking right. Rio pumps her fist and gleefully trots down her puzzle stairs, so Jeff can hand her her new car keys.

“You are now the proud owner of a 2025 Jeep Wrangler,” Jeff says, “two cars on your Survivor resume, pretty impressive.”

Rio shrugs, but can’t stop grinning. She’s never really been modest.

“Now, Rio,” Jeff says, and this is it, this is her moment, “a car ride and pizza party would sure be lonely all by yourself. You can choose one other—”

“Agatha,” Rio says, easy as breathing. Then, to at least give herself some credibility, “because, you know, she loves Dominos so much.”

Rio can see, even from across the beach, Jen roll her eyes. She can also see Agatha, but can’t quite read her expression through the rain.

“Alright,” Jeff says, laughing. “I’m getting a little deja vu from Solomon Islands. Agatha, get over here.”

It’s all coming together. If Rio has to trap Agatha in a goddamn 2025 Jeep Wrangler to force her to have an adult conversation, so be it. Rio snatches the keys from Jeff’s hand and climbs into the driver’s seat, watching with glee out of the corner of her eyes as Agatha gets in the passenger’s seat. Deja vu indeed.

And then they’re off.

“I thought you were ethically against owning two gas guzzlers,” Agatha says, once they’re moving. She kicks her dirty feet up on the dash.

Rio tries not to smile too hard at the familiarity. “Well, I’m ethically pro getting expensive things for free. And pizza. And not being wet anymore.”

“Now, I know that last one’s not true,” Agatha says, with an sly grin.

Rio takes her eyes off the road (technically beach) for a second, just to look at Agatha’s smile.

“Too easy,” Rio says, shaking her head.

“You always were,” Agatha agrees, grin widening.

Rio laughs, she can’t help it. She’s driving a new car that’s hers and she’s going to eat food and Agatha is flirting with her like she hasn’t been avoiding her for the last two days. Life is pretty good.

Especially when they get to their checkpoint and a crew member hands them some pizzas. Nothing revolutionary, a cheese and pepperoni from a mediocre chain at best, but sitting in the back seat of this car, crossed-legged, sharing warm food with Agatha, it’s maybe the best meal of Rio’s life.

“Fuck, this is good,” Agatha essentially moans through her fourth slice. She has grease on her chin. Rio want to lick it off. Instead she works on polishing off the pepperoni.

“Thought you only ate free range meat,” Agatha mocks. She seems to be taking a break from demolishing the pizza to make fun of Rio.

But it’s the second time in a few short lovely minutes that she’s proven that she knows Rio.

“I think this is an exception,” Rio says. “You know, starving.”

“Excuses, Vidal. All your granola dyke fans will be so disappointed.”

“We both know you’re the one with the big fanbase,” Rio says.

“Oh don’t sell yourself short, the Patagonia lesbians adore you.”

Rio laughs a little. She wipes her mouth. Her stomach is full and she’s dry and Agatha is talking to her.

It takes them about ten minutes to polish off both pizzas.

“I could eat two more,” Rio says honestly, though her stomach is starting to protest.

Agatha laughs. She throws the pizza boxes in the trunk so she can sprawl out, leaning back against the car door and putting her feet in Rio’s lap, her bare pruny feet resting on Rio’s thighs. Rio, on instinct more than anything, rubs her thumb along the sole of Agatha’s foot, delighting when Agatha shivers a little.

“You know,” Rio says, emboldened by food and touch, “it’s too bad this isn’t the exact same reward as last time.”

Agatha grins. She wiggles her foot in her Rio’s lap, like she wants more touch. Rio is happy to oblige.

“Guess they’re not shelling out for an overnight this time,” Agatha says. “Want us to suffer in our wet shelter.”

“Sadists,” Rio agrees absently. She presses her thumb on the ball of Agatha’s foot, and Agatha lets out a soft whine in the back of her throat. Rio smiles to herself.

“Would you have wanted it?” Rio asks, spurned on my the soft noises Agatha is making. “An overnight reward?”

Agatha catches Rio’s eye, sharing in the memory of their last overnight reward. She looks like a wolf, a predator. Rio is eager to be prey.

“Of course,” Agatha drawls. She pauses purposefully before adding, “how could I say no to more shelter from this rain?”

A classic Agatha non-answer within an answer. Rio doesn't mind too much. She takes Agatha’s other foot and squeezes it.

“Sure,” Rio says. “Plus, it would be nice to get away from everyone at camp.”

“Tell me about it,” Agatha says. “Lilia tried to read me my seaweed leaves the other day. And Jen’s been real doom and gloom since Alice went home.”

Rio can’t help it.

“Jen’s been real doom and gloom since Alice went home? That kid… Agatha he was a fucking asshole to you the other night.”

Agatha waves a hand, like Rio didn’t hold her through another restless night after Billy tore her a new one.

“He’s just temperamental,” Agatha says, like she’s talking about a dog. “Genetics.”

“Temperamental,” Rio repeats, teasing the word on her tongue as if that will make it make any more sense. “He shouldn’t be able to talk to you like that.”

Agatha narrows her eyes. It’s the first warning sign. The pizza resting in Rio’s stomach shifts a little.

“He can talk to me however he wants,” Agatha says. “You actually don’t have any say in who says what to me.”

“Technically,” Rio says, going for the easy joke. “According to the great state—”

“No,” Agatha says. She pulls her feet from Rio’s lap. “Stop pretending you have any say over who I play this game with.”

“It’s not about the game,” Rio says. Her voice is getting that edge to it, the one she hates. The one that makes her sound weak. “I just—care about you. And I don’t like it when people feel like they are entitled to… to cast judgement on you.”

Agatha laughs coldly. “Honey, this is Survivor. Everyone is casting judgement on me. That’s how I make my money. I’m the big bad villain. So what if Billy believes that too? He still wants to take me to the end, and that’s what matters.”

“No it’s not!” Rio says, crack in her voice now all too evident. “Stop pretending like your alliance with him is all fucking strategy, when everyone knows you’re just working with him because he reminds you of—”

“Don’t you fucking dare,” Agatha says. Her voice is beyond cold now. “You of all people.”

“Come on,” Rio groans. “It was one vote, six years ago. You act like I could control every other person in our tribe. You act like him getting five votes was my fault.”

“It could have been four,” Agatha says, like she’s said time and time before.

“And he still would have gone home,” Rio says, like she’s said time and time before. Rio scrubs her hands over her face. Everything is going wrong. Five minutes ago they were eating pizza and laughing together and now they are doing this again. “Agatha, I can’t have this fight again. I can’t.”

“Fine,” Agatha snaps. “We won’t.”

Then Agatha’s stubborn and annoying ass opens her car door and steps out into the pouring rain.

“Are you kidding me?” Rio groans. And then her own stubborn and annoying ass opens her car door and steps out into the pouring rain.

She had grown used to it the weather over the last two days, but after a blissful twenty minutes inside a warm car, the rain hits like daggers and the wind is so strong that Rio almost loses her footing. But she doesn’t. She ploughs through the wet sand until she’s around to the other side of the Jeep where Agatha stands, arms crossed, wind whipping her hair every which way.

The wind is so loud at this point that Rio basically has to yell. So she does.

“Agatha,” she bellows, “get back in the car.”

Agatha turns to her, glaring. “Why? So you can yell at me again?”

“I’m not the one yelling,” Rio yells. Agatha raises her eyebrows. “You know what I mean! I just want—I want to be—” The rain is so loud, the wind so strong that it feels like it’s going to force Rio into saying something she shouldn’t, like her organs are going to burst out of her chest, pushed by the deadly combination of a tropical storm and a willful woman.

“Agatha,” Rio says again, more calmly. The only word that makes sense in all this is Agatha’s name. “I don’t want to talk about the game. I don’t want to talk about the kid. Either of them. I just want to talk about you and me. Fuck Survivor, what is happening here?” She gestures haplessly between the two of them.

“Are you really trying to have a ‘what are we’ conversation in the middle of a rainstorm?” Agatha counters.

“You’re the one who got out of the car!” Rio practically growls.

“You forced me into that car!” Agatha growls back. “You think you’re so clever, but you only won that reward challenge just so you could be alone with me.”

“Obviously!” Rio says, throwing her hands up in the air. “I’m not trying to be clever here. I’m not trying to be strategic. I’m just trying to understand, Agatha.” Her voice cracks. No. She makes it harder. “I’m trying to understand why you can’t forgive me for one vote six years ago, but you forgive him for being awful to you after about three seconds.”

“I thought you didn’t want to talk about the kid.”

“I don’t,” Rio yells, “but here we are. Again. On this game again. And I just need to know, why him? And why not me?” Her voice betrays her again, cracking open like the thunder around them. At least if she cries, the rain will hide her tears.

“You wanna know why him, Rio?” Agatha says. Her face is as wild as the wind. “Because I knew he was lying from the start. Because only idiots play Survivor and trust anyone in this game. I only trusted one person out here. And it was you. So do you really think I’m gonna trust you again?”

Rio doesn’t feel like she’s going to cry anymore. Her jaw tightens. She steps a foot closer to Agatha.

“I never lied to you,” Rio hisses. Afraid it got lost to the wind, she raises her voice. “I never lied to you out here, and you know that. Stop pretending I’m your enemy, when I am the only person out here who really knows you.”

“Oh, grow up!” Agatha snarls. She’s close enough now that Rio can see the drops of rain sliding down the ridge of her nose. “We were barely together a year.”

“Agatha,” Rio says, low and slow. “You know it was more than that. Maybe you’re such a notorious liar out here because you’re so fucking good at lying to yourself.”

“Wow, really good burn, Rio. You’re right, you know me so well.”

Rio wants to shake her, wants to make her understand, wants to stop yelling at her. Rio wants to shove Agatha inside this car and kiss her until they both forget why they are fighting. But she doesn’t.

Instead she stands in the rain, arms crossed, and lets out a pathetic, petulant, “I do.”

It’s not the first time she’s said those two words to Agatha, but last time, they were under much better circumstances.

Agatha scoffs. “Whatever. Keep telling yourself that. If it will make you feel better when you write my name down.”

“When I… Jesus Christ, Agatha, how many times do I have to tell you it’s not about the game?”

“Then why did you come onto Survivor this time with the sole intention of voting me out, you Grim fucking Reaper?”

“I—” Rio stops herself. In retrospect, she doesn’t have a good answer, both to prove I could and you broke my heart sound childish and petty, and are parts of the truth, but not the entirety of it. The full truth is something more mottled, more stubborn. If I can’t have you, neither can this game which brought us together and tore us apart.

“You know what?” Agatha says in the face of Rio’s silence. “Why don’t you just do it? Why don’t you just write my name down tomorrow like you’ve been wet dreaming about for six years and 35 days? And I’ll write down yours. And we will just see what happens.”

“Agatha—”

“In my three times playing this game, I have gone to the end every single time and you haven’t gone once. Let’s keep it that way. The last thing I want to see at final tribal is your fucking face. So either you go or I go, sweetheart.”

The rain is coming down even harder. They’re both drenched, but even through it, Agatha’s eyes are hard and determined, directing all the vitriol of the last few days right at Rio. And maybe Rio deserves it. For trying. For holding onto the scraps of what they once had like she could ever get it back.

“Fine,” Rio spits. Her voice doesn’t crack this time. “It would be my fucking pleasure to vote you out of this game.”

For a second, Agatha’s face splits open like the clouds above, shock and hurt and betrayal rising to the surface. For a second, Rio wants to throw it all away and go to her. To hold her tight and beg her to forget everything, to forget this whole game and just go back to Vermont.

But then the second passes. And Agatha’s mask slides back on, hard and impenetrable even to the rain.

“Good,” Agatha spits back at Rio.

“Great,” Rio snarls.

And that’s that. Rio watches Agatha’s jaw tighten and wishes she hadn’t won this stupid fucking car in the first place.

On the drive back, Agatha doesn’t even sit in the front seat, but in the back, like a Rio is fucking taxi service. Rio fumes, flooring it so hard that production makes her slow down. She doesn’t look at Agatha. She can’t.

When she gets back to camp, she brushes past that stupid kid who started all this and goes straight to Jen.

“I’m in,” Rio says, voice hard. “Final three, let’s do it. Tomorrow night, we are finally voting Agatha Harkness out of this fucking game.”

Chapter Text

Day 36

Red Bird. Green Palm Tree. Blue Wave. Orange Fire. Black Knife. Yellow Sunset.

Lilia looks at the tiles mounted on her board, studying them carefully, even as the rain pelts down on both the puzzle board and herself, soaked to the bone for three days straight.

Red Bird. Green Palm Tree. Blue Wave. Orange Fire. Black Knife. Yellow Sunset.

The immunity challenge today is simple. Memorize these six tiles, their pattern, their colors, their order on the board, and then recreate them on a second puzzle board. There’s just one issue. To get to the second board, you have to run into the jungle, climb a rope ladder, dig under the sand, and walk along a thin balance beam. Only then, can you finally recreate the puzzle.

“And Rio thinks she has it,” Jeff is shouting from somewhere in the distance, “but she does not! Her puzzle is incorrect and she has to go back to the start to look at the original again.”

Lilia can hear Rio’s “fuck!” even from back at the start of the challenge. Poor Rio. It’s been a hard couple of days for her out here. It’s been a hard couple of days for everyone out here, truthfully, the weather only exacerbating the seeds of tension that have been growing since day one. Last night was the first night since family visits where Rio and Agatha were not beside one another in the shelter and Lilia would bet money that neither of them got a wink of sleep.

Not to mention the inner turmoil of the poor teenager, moping around like a lost dog since his little outburst the other night. Lilia has seen many a fight on Survivor in her time, and this was by no means the worst one, but the damage seems to be still ongoing, with Agatha retreating back into her caustic and alienating self, while Billy watches her with big sad eyes, and Rio glowers from a distance.

Three more days of this seem like eternity. Though, Lilia supposes, one of them will be gone by tonight. Depending on how all this plays out. Lilia looks back to her puzzle board.

Red Bird. Green Palm Tree. Blue Wave. Orange Fire. Black Knife. Yellow Sunset.

“Agatha thinks she has the puzzle, and no! That is incorrect!” Jeff calls. “Agatha has to go back and look. And Billy also has to go back and look. Jen thinks she has it and does not! Everyone except Lilia has tried the puzzle and failed. Lilia is still at the first puzzle station. Only time will tell if her slow and patient strategy plays out.”

It normally doesn’t. This is the furthest Lilia has ever made it on this game and it’s her eighth time playing it. She never wins individual immunity, she never makes it to the end, yet somehow, here she is in the top five. Lilia doesn’t harbor any illusions about winning the game, but there is a satisfaction in her bones in still being here, that she’s made it further than those seven other times. That she’s made it here with these four people, as willful and obnoxious as they are.

Red Bird. Green Palm Tree. Blue Wave. Orange Fire. Black Knife. Yellow Sunset.

Lilia has always been good at memorization if she has a device, a way to keep the components in her mind.

After staring blankly at the six tiles for far too long, Lilia conjures up the six players who were in her alliance before the cracks spread through.

It clicks, suddenly clear as day. Six tiles. Six players. Alice, the little red bird finally finding her footing after flying from the nest. Jen, the steadfast tree that may sway with the wind, but will hold her ground. Billy, a wave in the ocean, calm then angry then calm again. Agatha, a blazing fire, willful and strong and demanding to be center of attention. Rio, the knife that she so loves to carry around, sharp and dangerous but the very tool that provides out here.

And then there’s Lilia herself. The sunset. Lilia chuckles a little. She must admit she is rather tied of sunset imagery. It’s obscene the amount of sunsets that are plastered on brochures for retirement communities and late in life cruises and a 60+ dating service that Luigi tried to set her up on. But, undeniably, here she is, in the sunset of her life. And Lilia can’t deny that she loves a good sunset as much as the next old broad. She watches the sunset every day out here, certain that nothing is more beautiful than the colors that streak across the sky in Fiji when the sun sinks into the sea.

Red Bird. Green Palm Tree. Blue Wave. Orange Fire. Black Knife. Yellow Sunset.

Alice, Jen, Billy, Agatha, Rio, Lilia. Six pieces of a puzzle, unlikely in how they fit together, but fitting together nonetheless. Lilia shuts her eyes for a second, sees the pieces in her mind. She knows this. She can do this.

“Rio is back again!” Jeff calls, “And still doesn’t have the puzzle, she has to go back through the obstacle course another time.”

It’s go time. Lilia carefully turns around, keeping the puzzle in her mind. She lightly jogs into the jungle and begins hoisting herself up the rope ladder. Billy passes her quickly on one side, Agatha on the other. Lilia doesn't mind.

As she makes her way through the sand, digging a hole big enough that she can wiggle through, she hears Jeff call again, “Billy does not have the puzzle. Agatha is getting closer. If this is correct, she could win her fourth individual immunity. And it is not! Agatha has to go back to the start.”

Lilia emerges from the sand, puts one foot gingerly in front of the other on the balance beam. Billy and Agatha whip by her in one direction, while Jen quickly does her own balance beam in the other direction.

“Jen is working on her puzzle for the second time,” Jeff announces as Lilia dismounts from the balance beam and makes her way to the second puzzle board.

Red Bird. Green Palm Tree. Blue Wave. Orange Fire. Black Knife. Yellow Sunset.

“Jen is… not correct,” Jeff says. “Everyone needs to concentrate! It is useless to make it through the course if you don’t know the puzzle!”

Lilia’s hands are ice cold from the rain, sore from the rope ladder, dirty from the sand. But she picks up the tiles she needs, avoiding all the decoys. First a red bird on the top left, a green palm tree slightly below, a blue wave below that, an orange flame back a little higher, then the black knife, and finally the yellow sunset in the bottom left corner.

“Jeff!” She calls. Her voice is shaky.

Jeff comes over to the board, looks over Lilia’s puzzle, back to his reference. Then he grins, his big Jeff grin, lips expanding even through all the filler.

“Lilia is correct!” He bellows. “And that’s how you do it on Survivor! Lilia wins immunity, only having gone through the course once. ”

Lilia, suddenly a child, laughs and jumps into the air. She did it. Two decades on this show and she finally won an individual immunity challenge. For just one moment she forgets that she is freezing and starving and filthy. She won.

Once everyone is assembled back at the start of the challenge, Jeff places the necklace around Lila’s neck. In doing so, his thumb brushes the back of her neck, softly and purposefully. Jesus Christ, men are insatiable.

“Congratulations, Lilia,” He says warmly, once his wandering hands are back where they belong. “Your first individual immunity win after all this time. How does it feel?”

“It feels—” Lilia surprises herself by her breath catching in her throat. She swallows it down. “Long overdue.”

“I couldn't agree more,” Jeff says. “Lilia, you are guaranteed a spot in the final four. Everyone else, you have a one in four shot of being voted out tonight. Head back to camp, see you at tribal tonight.”

As Lilia goes back to the group, Jen engulfs her in a hug, squeezing her tight.

“Top three is ours,” she whispers in Lilia’s ear before saying louder, “amazing work today.”

Billy also gives her a hug, with his skinny shivery arms. The poor thing.

“We witnessed herstory today,” he says genuinely. “Your first immunity win. That’s awesome.”

“Yeah,” Agatha mimics from behind him. “Awesome.”

She’s clearly come to the same conclusion as Jen, that Lilia’s win cements the reality that Agatha is gone tonight, that losing this challenge means her torch will finally be snuffed. Lilia doesn’t feel any particular vindication in it, that someone will have to go home tonight. They all made it so far, and it all will be for naught for one of them tonight.

After they get back to camp, Lilia retreats into the jungle with Jen and Rio, their odd little ragtag alliance since yesterday.

“So not like we really need to discuss it, but Agatha tonight?” Jen asks.

“Sure,” Lilia says.

Did she really used to enjoy doing this, plotting to take out another contestant, one who, attitude and general obnoxiousness aside, was a member of Lilia’s alliance a few short days go? Lilia thinks back to that first season she played, where she felt overjoyed to make it to the merge. She never turned on her alliance that season, even when it would have been smart too. It was some sense of loyalty she carried that winners don’t carry, that whoever helped get her here should be spared.

When Lilia played on Solomon Islands, she saw the writing on the wall there as well. She saw when it behooved Agatha and Rio—back then, the tightest two person alliance who thought they succeeded in hiding their clear affection for each other—to turn on their tribe. But Lilia did nothing to stop it. She did nothing to stop it every time she was voted out, and here she is, further than she’s ever made it before, to the point where no one can turn on her, and she finds that the taste of turning on her own alliance is souring in her mouth.

“You’re good, Vidal?” Jen asks, pulling Lilia out of her head. “You’re not going to go soft on her again, are you?”

“Not a chance,” Rio says plainly, arms crossing over her chest. Lilia wonders if Rio knows she’s lying.

“Great,” Jen says, “then we’re golden.”

She grins, the self-assured grin of a victor, the one that Lilia can’t seem to conjure. “Unless that little twerp somehow gets immunity tomorrow, this is our top three.”

“This is our top three,” Rio repeats. She looks miserable.

They disperse, Jen off to find coconuts, Rio probably off to go brood in peace. Lilia starts to head back to camp and then changes her mind, follows Rio where she’s heading further into the jungle.

“Wait,” Lilia calls. She’s not sure what’s taking over her.

Rio turns around. She’s gripping the machete like it’s a security blanket.

“What’s up, Lilia?” Rio asked tiredly.

“You don’t have to—” Lilia doesn't know why she’s saying this, why the business of the other four people on this island are suddenly her concern. Maybe it’s something about the deep sadness in Rio’s eyes since yesterday. “You don’t have to vote her out, you know.”

Rio furrows her eyebrows. “Don’t tell me you’re turning on this alliance, Lilia.”

Lilia quickly shakes her head. “No. Of course not. Jen’s my Day One, but… but this is a game. Over a month out here makes you forget, but years of coming back and back and back make you remember. This is just a game.”

“I know that,” Rio says, something harsh in her voice. “Trust me. But other people… whatever, it doesn’t matter. We’re voting Agatha tonight. There are no idols left. She’s going home. This is what was always going to happen.”

“It doesn’t have to be,” Lilia says, surprising herself. “I mean, don’t get me wrong, she’s a piece of work and I think we could all enjoy a day out here without her running commentary.”

Rio smiles a little, like she can’t help it, like even the idea of hearing Agatha’s annoying thoughts aloud brings her involuntary joy.

“It’s good for my game to vote her out,” Lilia continues. “It’s good for your game to vote her out. But sometimes what’s good for your game is bad for your soul.”

Rio rolls her eyes, or at least tries to, but the effect is ruined by her having to rapidly blink away tears.

“I think we’re beyond what’s good for my soul,” she says, going for mocking, but it comes out bitter. “All that’s left is the game.”

Oh, this poor woman. This poor heartbroken thing. Lilia remembers the first time she met Rio, her dark eyes sparkling with the joy of living off the land out here, and then shining even more when she teamed up with Agatha. Now those eyes stare across the jungle at her, weary circles under them.

“That’s not true,” Lilia says softly. “There’s always more than the game.”

Lilia softly reaches out and squeezes Rio’s shoulder, then leaves her, goes back to the shelter.

The lone figure huddled under the shelter is Billy, holding his wet hoodie around himself and shivering. Lilia feels for the boy, she really does. Some people go through the drama of growing up—of seeing the worst parts of themselves emerge and then retreat—amongst their friends, their families, their classmates, but this poor boy just exposed his growing pains on national TV.

“Hey, Lilia,” he says, when she goes to join him. “Congrats again.”

Lilia smiles at him. “Herstory, right?”

She parrots his silly little phrase back at him, nudging his shoulder with her own. It’s enough to get a small smile out of him.

“I really fucked everything up, didn’t I?” he muses.

Lilia shrugs a shoulder. “Who hasn’t? You only have a few months left of being a teenager, it’s your right to cause a little drama.”

Billy shakes his head. “I didn’t mean to. I just got angry and felt betrayed and now… now everyone is sad and Agatha and Rio aren’t talking and I know it’s my fault.”

“Honey,” Lilia says, “those two would have found something to fight about either way. They’re like magnets who can’t decide which way they're facing. And I’ll bet you the million dollars that I won’t win that by Day 39, they will be back in each other’s arms. That’s just how some people work. Drawn together, drawn apart, drawn together. Again and again.”

“Huh,” Billy says. Then he turns to Lilia, head cocked. “Why do you say you won’t win the million?”

Lilia laughs. “I never win the million, kid. We all know how it goes by now.”

“Yeah, but you could,” Billy says. “You are the only one of us who is guaranteed top four. You won this challenge. You’ve stuck with your alliances. You’ve outlasted. I definitely see your point that if you go to the end right now with Jen and Rio like you’re planning—and don’t convince me that you’re not, it’s super obvious—they might get more votes than you. But…”

He raises his eyebrows, gets a sly grin on his face. Lilia chuckles softly. His mother would be proud. Hell, Agatha would be proud.

“But if I join you and Agatha, I could win?” She finishes for him.

“You read my mind,” he says, still grinning. “Look, I know it’s a long shot, and I’m desperate here, but it’s worth a try, right?”

“Of course it’s worth a try,” Lilia says kindly. “It’s always worth trying.”

And that’s what it is, about all four of them. All four of the people left in this game want it so bad. And here’s Lilia, the only one with the necklace around her neck.

“You hold all the power,” Billy says with a shrug. “It’s up to you what you want to do with it.”

He’s right. Lilia always was jealous of people who had this gaudy necklace, who got to make the big decisions, but it feels like a weight that she has no right to carry.

They don’t even try to start a fire that afternoon. It’s the third straight day of rain, and an attempt feels pointless. Though, when Lilia looks to the horizon, she can see a hint of sun far off in the distance, doing its best to break through the clouds.

She follows it, leaving the gloom of camp in favor of standing with her feet in the ocean, trying to catch a glimpse of the sun, hoping it will return to them on its next cycle through the sky.

She’s joined by an unlikely companion, Agatha Harkness herself, stepping into the water next to Lilia, watching the lack of sun with her in silence for a few minutes. But Agatha can never be silent for too long.

“You really creamed us all in the challenge today,” she says. “Good job.”

“Thank you,” Lilia says. “The kid sent you to butter me up, huh?”

Agatha lets out a huff of breath that could almost be a laugh.

“You caught me,” she says. Her eyes stay on the horizon. “But it’s pointless, right? No one wants to make an alliance with backstabber extraordinaire Agatha Harkness.”

Lilia turns to her. Her chin is lifted. Her arms are crossed. The rain and wind whip her hair behind her, making her look like a promotional poster for Survivor.

She’s maybe the loneliest person Lilia has ever met.

“He does,” Lilia says, softly but not overly emotional, like she’s tempting a stray cat with milk, one that scares easily. “Even after his little outburst, he still wants to sit at the end with you.”

“So he can beat me at final tribal,” Agatha scoffs. “He’ll be the fourth one to do it, and the second one from the same bloodline.”

“You don’t know if that’s true,” Lilia says.

“Right,” Agatha says, “because I’m not even making it to the end. Because you and Jen and your shiny new third are writing my name down tonight. Finally. After all this, she’s finally getting me where she wants me.”

Oh, Agatha. Always assuming the worst. Lilia is going to miss her.

“You know,” Lilia says, “if Rio was actually getting you where she wanted you, they couldn’t air this show on broadcast television.”

Startled, Agatha lets out a real laugh. Her whole face changes with it, like the promise that the sun will come out after a storm. But then it’s gone, as quick as it came, and she shakes her head, looking back at the still gloomy horizon.

“We both know it’s too late for that, Lilia,” she says.

Lilia knows no such thing. But it’s cold and rainy, and tribal council is calling.

Lilia walks beside Jen up to tribal, as they have done all season. Lilia knows that at first, Jen only teamed up with Lilia as a goat to take to the end, but here they are, in step, in sync.

“We’re basically guaranteed final tribal,” Jen whispers. “Like, even if Billy wins immunity tomorrow, then Rio’s gone instead.”

“What if Billy and Rio team up against us?” Lilia asks. “Do you think either of us stand a chance against Rio at fire making?”

“That’s not gonna happen,” Jen says with a laugh, “after he lambasted her ex-whatever, no way she’d work with the kid. Besides, neither of us are half bad at fire.”

“Yeah, but we’re not Rio,” Lilia mutters, more for the sake of arguing than anything else. But it’s true. Rio Vidal makes fire like it’s breathing. Lilia’s almost surprised that she can’t even strike a light in this rain, but she supposes no one is perfect.

“Either way,” Jen says, “you and me? We’re gonna be at the end.”

Jen smiles at Lilia, triumphant. Lilia smiles back. Her Day One, looking worse for wear, wet and dirty and too thin from hunger, but still resilient, still marching on. All of them are, trudging to tribal council even though the wind and rain and despair.

“What’s your other reason?” Jen asks out of the blue.

“My what?” Lilia asks.

“You know,” Jen says, “everyone goes on Survivor for the million and something else.”

Lilia chuckles. “What’s yours? To boss everyone around?”

“Ouch,” Jen says, laughing. But then she grows serious, thoughtful. “The first time I think it was the competition. I’d watched for years, and I knew I could do it. Knew I could do it better than other people who just coasted or made a wrong move. But this time… this time I need to prove that the island didn’t win. That a broken ankle can’t stop me. That the pain… that it was worth something, you know?”

It’s raw, it’s honest in a way that makes a tear spring to Lilia’s eye. God, she’s sentimental today.

Jen clears her throat. “Anyway, come on, your eighth time on the show? There’s gotta be reason you keep coming back.”

And there does, doesn’t there?

“The money doesn’t hurt,” Lilia jokes. “Andy Cohen’s team always pays me a pretty penny to go on his show and ‘spill the tea’ after a season airs.”

Jen laughs, shakes her head. “Fine, be mysterious about it. But you know there’s a good chance you could win right? Don’t get me wrong, I will be fighting you tooth and nail for the jury votes. But after today, this could be Lilia Calderu’s season. What’s that stupid thing the kid always says? Herstory?”

Lilia scoffs. She’s not going to win this. She never wins. She doesn't come on Survivor to win, she comes on Survivor to—

“All right everyone, grab your torches, go ahead and get fire,” Jeff announces. They’ve arrived at tribal. “In this game fire represents your life, when your fire is gone, so are you.”

Lilia wonders how many times she’s heard that line. During that one mistake of a drunken night in Bolivia, Lilia half expected Jeff to get off of his knees just to inform her that fire represents her life.

It’s a relief to be in the confined space of tribal council, its roof protecting them from the rain, the fire providing some temporary warmth.

“Let’s welcome in the jury,” Jeff says, as he does every tribal. “Sharon, Shaun, Monica, Jimmy, Darcy, and Alice, voted out last tribal council.”

Alice looks good, clean, dry, like she has had a chance to eat a few good meals. She offers a small smile in Lilia’s direction and Lilia smiles back. She looks so much like her mother.

“So,” Jeff starts, “been an interesting few days out here. Kind of wet, maybe? A little windy?”

Jeff does his best when he’s not cracking jokes.

“Stunning observation,” Agatha mutters.

“Rio,” Jeff says, ignoring Agatha. “You got a respite from the rain with the reward challenge yesterday. Curse or not, you got to be dry and, more importantly, to eat. A huge reward, the biggest of the season, and you chose Agatha to go on it with you. Why her?”

Rio looks over to Agatha. Agatha doesn't look back.

“I mean it’s not like I’m splitting the car with her,” Rio deadpans. “But, I don’t know, guess I thought Agatha could use a boost after last tribal.”

Agatha scoffs. “Oh, look at you, so kind, so thoughtful.”

Rio rolls her eyes. “Jesus, I’m trying to be nice.”

“And you’re doing such a good job,” Agatha mocks.

“Oh that’s rich,” Rio sneers. “I’m not nice, but your only ally can insult you to your face just like that.”

“Hey!” Billy pipes up, “we’re working past that.”

“Sure you are,” Rio says. “Just like your mommy did.”

“That’s uncalled for,” Billy says.

“I don’t think you have any say in what’s uncalled for,” Rio says.

“And you do?” Agatha interjects. “You think you’re better than all of us, when I know the minute you came back to camp yesterday, you went straight to Jen for your little top three deal.”

“Hey, leave me out of this,” Jen chimes in.

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” Agatha says. “Keep your hands clean for the jury.”

“What I’d like,” Jen says, voice rising, “is to not have everything on this show revolve around Agatha fucking Harkness.”

“Well, sorry for having interesting gameplay, Jennifer. You wouldn’t know anything about that.”

“Whoa,” Billy says, “we don’t need to go there.”

Rio laughs at him. “You of all people saying we can’t go there? Grow some self-awareness.”

And so it goes on. Jeff sits back, letting sparks fly, and Lilia watches as her four teammates snipe at each other, their passion rising, the fire reflecting in all of their eyes.

Fire really does represent life out here. And that life is burning beautifully in all four of Lilia’s tribemates. Fighting with each other to stay out here, in this place that eats them alive.

There’s gotta be a reason you keep coming back. Jen’s words from mere minutes ago stick in Lilia’s mind. Of course there’s a reason she keeps coming back. This is the reason. Something about this game ignites life in people when they need it the most.

Just look at Alice, who started the game in her mother’s shadow, and left it a player in her own right. Look at Wanda when she was on, who entered the game in mourning and left it full of pride and victory. Look at her son, starting this game a nervous fan, but now holding his own against the very women he so admires. Look at Rio, heartbroken and angry, but righteous, defending her love even when she refused to accept it. And Agatha, so convinced everyone is out to get her, but not afraid to goad them on, to make the legends true, no matter the cost. And then Jen, dear Jen, Lilia’s Day One, whose fire has never waned at all, her conviction and desire to be here burning through all 36 days they’ve been out here.

You hold all the power, Billy said to her earlier. It’s up to you what you want to do with it.

“Alright!” Jeff is exclaiming, finally putting an end to the fighting. “This is definitely a feisty top five. Hate to stop the fun, but it is time to vote. Lilia, you handily won the immunity necklace, do you want to keep it for yourself?”

He’s about to move on from the question he doesn’t need to ask, to send the first person up to vote. But Lilia stops him.

“No,” she says plainly.

There’s silence for a second.

“No?” Jeff repeats, with a huff of disbelief. “No, you do not want to keep the immunity necklace for yourself?”

“Lilia, what are you doing?” Jen hisses from beside her. “Is this a joke?”

Lilia has never been more serious in her life.

“That’s correct,” she tells Jeff.

“Let me get this straight,” Jeff says, still shocked. If his forehead could move through all the Botox, his eyebrows would be at his hairline. “You won individual immunity for the first time in the eight seasons you have been on this show, and you are giving it up?”

“Yes,” Lilia says calmy, “I am.”

It’s so simple, Lilia can’t believe she didn’t think of it before. What she can do out here, with this rare power, is to give these people more life. Another day out here for four people who want it more than she ever did.

“Lilia,” Jeff says, “…I’m speechless. What is—why would you—this is immunity!”

Oh, Jeff. This is why it never would have worked out between them. There’s so much more to life than his little game show.

“I’m aware,” Lilia says with a smile. “And I don’t need it. I don’t think I need this game anymore. After it has introduced me to all of these people. And dozens more.”

Jeff just gapes at her like a handsome fish, so Lilia turns from him to Jen, who is also gaping.

“Lilia,” she manages to get out, “this is—we were gonna be top three.”

Her voice cracks a little, a tear forming in her eye. Lilia cups her face.

“Jen. My Day One. You don’t need me to make it to top three. You don’t need me to win. You don’t need me to get past the pain. You can do that on your own. You will. I know it.”

Then she stands, turns to Rio. Rio, who was ready to go in for the kill minutes ago, but is now staring at Lilia in complete shock.

“Rio. Sweet Rio. I know they call you Death, but you’ve given us all such life out here. You make fire, you fish, you help. Out of death comes life, always. You just have to wait for it. Patience, Rio.”

Rio looks absolutely dumbfounded. Lilia moves on.

“Little Billy Maximoff,” she says softly. “Survivor’s biggest fan. Don’t forget who you are out here. You are not your mother. You are not your favorite player. You are a sweet boy who loves hard, remember that.”

He’s crying a little. She pats his cheek, then turns to Agatha.

Agatha in her typical Agatha way, mutters, “and people think I’m dramatic.”

Lilia chuckles. “Oh, Agatha Harkness. The villain, the liar, the best player to play the game but never win. This beach would be dreadfully boring without you on it. But don’t forget about what happens when you leave it. No matter what you think, it's never too late.”

Agatha swallows a little, her eyes glancing at Rio for one millisecond.

Lilia turns to all four of them, her back to the jury, her back to Jeff.

“You are all so dear to me. My vuvale. My family. I have loved playing Survivor with you all.”

Then she carefully takes off the necklace and places it around Agatha’s neck. Agatha gasps in surprise.

“Vote for me,” she tells all four of them. “If you don’t, then the jury won’t let you live it down, and neither will I. Vote for me or you lose this game.”

Jen’s crying now, wiping tears from her eyes, but she nods. Lilia shoots her one last smile. Jen was always her favorite.

“And,” Jeff announces, stunned, “it is time to vote. Everyone is fair game, except… Agatha, I guess.”

There’s silence around tribal as they go up to vote one-by-one. And then, almost like no time has passed, Jeff starts reading the votes.

“Lilia,” he reads, throat scratchy, the old softie. “Lilia. That’s two votes Lilia.” Jeff opens the third vote, and reads it, voice catching. “The 15th person voted out of Survivor: Road to Redemption and the 7th member of our Jury is Lilia.”

Lilia stands, goes to walk toward Jeff. Before she can get there, Jen is on her feet, pulling Lilia into a tight hug.

“I don’t understand,” Jen whispers. “I don’t want you to go.”

“It was my time,” Lilia whispers back, cradling Jen’s head. “Now go win this.”

With a kiss to Jen’s cheek, Lilia lets go. Then, she’s in front of Jeff, who has his own tears in his eyes.

“Lilia,” he says, drawing out her name. He just stares at her for a second, before he shakes it, and says his canned line. “The tribe has spoken.”

And they have. Lilia forced them to speak. Lilia feels immensely lucky to be the person to make the four people left in this game stay in it. She cannot think of four people whose torches deserve to be lit more. She gives them one last look before she walks down the path away from Survivor for the final time.

When she steps out of the shelter of tribal council, she looks up at the sky and laughs with unbridled joy.

The rain has stopped.

The storm has finally passed.

Chapter Text

Day 37

Jen strikes the flint against the machete, hard. Enough for sparks to fly out. Enough for the sparks to catch on the coconut husks and the husks to light, creating a flame. A beautiful perfect flame after nearly four days of no fire. Jen quickly piles on kindling, still damp, and watches as the small flames lick the sides of the wood, desperate to light it. But the wood is still wet from the storm, and even though smoke rises from it, the fire snuffs out after about ten seconds of Jen valiantly trying. Again. Fuck.

This is the third fire Jen has tried to light this morning and the third time she’s failed. She woke up before Billy and Agatha, the hunger of living off only coconuts for four days forcing her awake. Rio is god knows where, so Jen has taken it upon herself to start a fire and to finally cook them rice after the storm.

But it’s not fucking lighting.

It’s a little bit too perfect of an analogy. Jen can imagine the editors cackling with glee as they intersperse footage of her failing to make fire with a talking head where she bemoans her position on this tribe.

It’s rough, there’s no sugar coating it. Five days ago she was so confident that final three would be herself, Lilia, and Alice, with Rio as a backup. She thought that by Day 37 both Agatha and Billy would comfortably be sat on the jury.

She never should have underestimated the power of a woman scorned or whatever the fuck Agatha Harkness is. She also apparently never should have underestimated Lilia’s inherent kumbaya-ism outweighing any actual strategy.

She strikes the flint against the machete again and this time it barely even sparks. Her hands are too sweaty to even hold the flint right.

“Here,” Rio says from behind Jen, causing Jen to startle so much that she almost cuts herself with the machete. Jesus.

After giving herself a second to recover, Jen turns to see Rio, with her arms full of dry kindling.

“Holy shit,” Jen breathes. “Where did that come from?”

Rio smiles half-heartedly.

“We needed fire,” she says plainly. “I dug some rotten wood from inside the trees that was spared from the rain.”

“My hero,” Jen says, unconsciously matching Rio’s deadpan. But she means it.

Rio sets the kindling into a makeshift pyramid, while Jen grabs more coconut husk. Then, once it’s all placed, Jen steadies her hands and strikes the knife against the flint. Spark. Flame. Fire. The kindling catches all at once, and Jen can’t help but let out a celebratory whoop at the sight of it.

Even Rio cracks a smile as she piles more wood on.

“And that’s how you do it on Survivor!” Jen says, in a pretty solid Jeff impression, if she does say so herself.

It’s enough for Rio to chuckle a little, which feels like a small victory. Jen is still pretty baffled that Rio Vidal is somehow her closest ally in this game, but she’s grown almost fond of her. Dyke drama aside, Rio sticks to her word and does the most to help out around camp of anyone, even when she’s clearly in an awful mood.

Jen grins back at Rio, and for a second, the storms and betrayals and surprises of the last couple days don’t matter. They made fire.

“Well, aren’t you just a couple of besties,” comes a disdainful voice from the shelter and Jen’s good mood evaporates.

“Morning, Agatha,” Jen says flatly. “You’re welcome for getting a fire started.”

Rio’s smile is immediately gone, and somehow in the last three seconds, she got ahold of the machete and is sullenly chopping wood. Jesus. These are going to be the longest two days of Jen’s life.

“You two make quite the pair,” Agatha says, sitting on the log bench and glaring at Rio’s wood chopping, “teamwork making the dreamwork on your little fire.”

Jen has to stop herself from laughing. There’s no way Agatha is jealous of whatever Jen and Rio have going on, which is an alliance of convenience at best.

A small insane of Jen’s brain wonders if she could convince Rio to make out with her for just a little, if only for the satisfaction of watching Agatha’s head explode.

No, absolutely not. Rio’s objective hotness aside, Jen cannot think of a worse idea. No way is she getting in the middle whatever those two have going on. Jen needs to get it together. This is what lack of sustenance does to a person.

“Just wait till we team up to vote your ass out tomorrow,” Jen says sweetly to Agatha as she puts the pot of water on the fire to boil.

“And how has that been going for the last few tribals?” Agatha asks, just as sweetly.

Jen hates to admit it, but Agatha’s right, the asshole. Jen ignores her in favor of cooking rice.

“Wanna help out?” she asks.

“Oh, you two have it covered,” Agatha says, leaning back on the log bench, kicking her feet up.

Two more days. Jen can make it two more days.

“I can help!” chirps the one remaining member of their tribe as Billy comes out of the shelter, bleary-eyed.

Rio brings the knife down on the firewood even harder.

“Sure,” Jen says, “at least someone is helping.”

And so they make rice. Well, Billy and Jen make rice while Rio furiously chops wood and Agatha lounges. It’s almost normal, Jen and Billy’s hunger so strong it outweighs the weirdness in camp of the last few days. The two of them sure as hell didn’t get pizzas two days ago, so rice is the best they’ve got.

And honestly, the first bite of the hot, mushy, and unseasoned rice is maybe the best bite of food Jen has ever had in her life.

“I could cry,” Billy says from beside her, clearly experiencing the same euphoria of his first carbs in three days.

Jen shoots him a smile. She has nothing against the kid, despite him lying about his heritage and stealing Alice from her and also being a drama queen the other night. But it’s not like Jen can be choosy about company. Also he basically blew up his own game when he yelled at Agatha; him fighting with his only ally means that Jen can use the jury against him if it comes down to it.

“Hey,” Billy says, “I’m gonna go to tree mail after breakfast, you wanna come?”

Jen laughs a little. “Going to tree mail” is such an obvious code for talking strategy that it’s a bit funny at this point. And Jen isn’t opposed to humoring the kid, but there’s no way in hell she is going on this walk with him.

“Nah,” Jen says, “can’t go to tree mail for the rest of the game. It’s nothing personal.”

Billy cocks his head. “Why… oh.”

“Yeah,” Jen says, smiling tightly at him, “I guess Lilia’s woo-woo shit rubbed off on me. Superstitious.”

“No, I get it!” Billy says. “You’ve made it this far.”

“What the fuck are you two talking about?” Agatha asks through her rice.

“Did you not watch Cayman Islands?” Jen asks. “You know, the season we were both on?”

Agatha shrugs. “I don’t watch the seasons I don’t win.”

“So you don’t watch any seasons,” Rio says from the other side of the fire.

Agatha narrows her eyes at Rio. Rio grins.

“I have better things to do with my time,” Agatha says, tossing her hair, before turning back to Jen. “So what happened to you at tree mail?”

Jen grits her teeth, not exactly wanting to relive it. “You were there, Agatha. When I got med-evacced?”

Agatha just shrugs, like it wasn’t the most traumatic day of Jen’s life. “Production wasn’t exactly forthcoming about the details by the time the rest of the tribe got there. They mostly just wanted to see if anyone would cry. All Jeff told us was that you broke your ankle.”

“Yeah. Well.” Jen picks at her rice. “It’s was pretty fucking dumb. I was pretty fucking dumb. I got excited coming back from tree mail and wasn’t looking down, so I tripped over a branch in the middle of the path that I swear wasn’t there five minutes before. And there went my ankle. There went my game. There went the next year of my life.”

Agatha is looking at her intently, with her freakish blue eyes. They widen a little when Jen mentions the branch, before quickly going back to neutral. But there’s something new there, an energy Jen can sense in the way Agatha is holding herself, like she just realized something.

“Agatha,” Jen says, unaware that her own voice has gotten low and hard. “What was that?”

“What was what?” Agatha asks, going back to her rice.

“Your face,” Jen says. Agatha’s face does it again, a minute flinch that someone who hadn’t spent the past 37 days on an island with her would probably miss. “Agatha, what the fuck did you do?”

“Why do you assume I did anything? Everyone is so eager to blame a woman these days.”

“If I told you—” Jen cuts herself off. Breathes. She doesn't know if this is true. But a sickening certainty rising in her like the tide during a storm. “If I told you that I tripped over a branch, and you weren’t hiding anything, you would have laughed at me or made fun of me. But you didn’t. You reacted. Agatha, tell me you did not place a branch in my path just to be so I would be eliminated. Even you are better than that.”

Agatha’s eyes shift away. “It wasn’t targeted at you,” she mutters.

“Say it a little louder,” Jen says coldly. The blood is rushing in her ears.

“I didn’t know you would be the person to trip over it,” Agatha says. And then she shrugs, like it’s not a big deal. “Yeah, maybe I threw some tripping hazards around as we got closer to the end, in case it would thin the numbers, but I didn’t know that you were the one who would fall. I just thought it might increase my odds.”

“Increase your odds?” Jen thinks she’s yelling now, but she can’t find it in her to care. “You fucked up my body. For months. I couldn’t walk. I couldn’t work. I got dumped. I couldn’t finish out this game.”

“I didn’t know it would be you!” Agatha says again, like that’s all she can say.

“So you’re fine injuring someone else that wasn’t me, just for a stupid game?”

“If it’s just a stupid game, why are you so pissed you got taken out of it? Why are any of us even here?” Agatha asks. Then she calms herself, puts her hands up. “You’re right. It was fucked up. That season was—I wasn’t at my best. It was my only season here without—it doesn’t matter. I’m sorry, Jen. It was a shitty thing to do.”

“Wow, an apology,” Rio drawls from across the fire, “there’s a first time for everything.”

“Stay out of it,” Agatha hisses.

“She can stay in it,” Jen says, because she knows it will piss Agatha off. “The kid too. How about all these cameras? The people watching at home? The fucking jury? I think they should know that you did this to me.”

“That I did this to you?” Agatha asks. She’s not even mad, which is fucking annoying. She carefully puts her bowl of rice down and stares into Jen’s eyes, unflinching. “Jen. I may have put the branch in your path, but you’re the one who didn’t look. You’re the one who reacted to a broken ankle like a death sentence. But it’s not. It never was. Just look at you. You’re back and in a better position than you were on Cayman Islands. You haven’t had your name written down once this season. You are doing better than hundreds of Survivor players who never got injured and the dozens who did. Hell, they like you so much, you got to come back. I would bet money that no one watching the show at home thinks of you as Jen-Broken-Ankle-Kale, but you still do. So fine, yell at me, and say it’s all my fault, but I’ve never looked at you as just an injury. Can you say the same for yourself?”

Jen just gapes at her.

“Are you really trying to give me a fucking pep talk right now?”

“All I’m saying is you’re not defined by your injury,” Agatha says simply. “You’re not.”

Jen feels like she’s going to cry. It comes on suddenly, like the rain. And just as impossible to ignore.

“You’re just trying to distract me,” she protests, hating the way it comes out of her throat, shaky and uncertain.

“Of course I am,” Agatha says, almost gently. “But it’s true. You aren’t your injury, Jen. Don’t let anyone, don’t let me, don’t let the show, don’t let Jeff or the media or the jury convince you of anything else. You are not your injury.”

She’s so genuine is the thing. Agatha Harkness, villain extrodinare, looking at Jen with kindness in her eyes. Jen fucking hates it.

“Fuck you,” she spits, and then in a petty act Jen would never have done 37—or even three—days ago, she knocks Agatha’s bowl of rice into the sand and stalks off toward the ocean, not looking back.

Lilia used to do this every day. Used to stand with her feet in the water and look out on the horizon. Sometimes for hours, saying it would calm her to see the wide expanse of sea.

Jen does not feel calm. Jen feels like the coconut husks she lit earlier this morning, burning up and desperate to pass the flame onto something else. She wishes there were a thousand branches for Agatha Harkness to trip over. She wishes she could fast forward through the next two days and few months until she’s holding an oversized check for a million dollars. She wishes she didn’t feel like she was going to weep for a year of her life without full mobility. She wishes she hadn’t let it fester in her, turning away her mom and her sister and her ex. She wishes she could go back and choose not to rot in it, not to rewatch the episodes of her season, plotting out what could have done if she had gotten to stay.

She hates that Agatha is right in her own twisted way. Agatha, who caused all of this, who has caused almost every inconvenience in this game, and who is now responsible for one of the hardest years of Jen’s life, is somehow being easier on Jen than Jen was on herself. It’s not fair.

In another bout of childish rage, Jen kicks at the water and screams into the ocean.

“Fuck you!” she yells to no one in particular, just the sunlight and the waves and the birds flying over the sea. “Fuck this stupid show!”

“Amen,” Jen hears from behind her.

Jen refuses to be startled by Rio Vidal any longer, so she keeps herself calm as Rio settles beside Jen, also looking out at the horizon.

“Don’t tell me you’re coming to check on me,” Jen says, rolling her eyes. “That would be a new low.”

“Nah,” Rio says, and Jen is pleased to hear no sympathy in her voice. “Just some classic strategy talk.”

Jen snorts. “What is there left to talk about? I swear, Rio, if you vote with Billy and Agatha, I will fucking drown you in this ocean.”

Rio laughs humorlessly. “There is not a fucking chance I will vote with them. Believe me on that.”

“Really?” Jen says flatly, turning to look at Rio in the eyes. “What if Agatha comes up to you before tribal, apologizes for whatever she did, begs for your forgiveness, says she’ll do anything to make it up to you.”

Rio snorts. “Then she’s been body snatched.”

“I’m being serious,” Jen says. “I’m not putting anything past her and I’m not letting you think with your pussy over your brain.”

“Ew,” Rio says.

Jen just raises an eyebrow at her.

“Fine.” Rio sighs. “In your hypothetical where Agatha gets a lobotomy and actually apologizes to me, saying she’ll do whatever it takes… then I’ll ask her to vote out Billy. Then you’re still top three.”

“And if Billy has immunity?” 

“Then Agatha goes.”

“For real?” Jen says.

Rio nods. “It’s been… it’s been too long. It’s her time. No matter what she says.”

Jen isn’t quite sure if she believes her. But Rio’s jaw is set as she looks out to the ocean, firm in her convictions. Jen kind of has no choice but to trust that Rio’s heartbreak at least lasts for two more days, long enough to get Jen to final three. 

“Good,” Jen says. 

“Honestly, I wish they would bring back top two just so we could vote out both of them.”

“Aw.” Jen grins. “Wow, you like me so much you want to go to finals with me.”

“Just because you haven’t gotten on my bad side,” Rio says with a shrug. “Don’t test your luck, Kale.” 

“Hey, I’m all you got,” Jen says. “Crazy thought, but you wouldn’t want to make out a little just to make Agatha mad, would you?”

Rio laughs for real then, big and loud with it. It’s so contagious that Jen cracks a smile too and then she’s somehow laughing along with Rio, at the absurdity of this situation they have all found themselves in.

“Appreciate the offer,” Rio says, “but I think that would be the dumbest way to get over my ex imaginable.”

“I actually think the dumbest way to get over your ex would be to go on Survivor with her.”

“Touché,” Rio says, still chuckling a little. Then she gets serious, looking Jen right in the eye. “Listen, Jen. I know you just had a bomb dropped on your lap. But right now, you are the only person left whose game doesn’t revolve around Agatha fucking Harkness. Don’t give that up, okay? It would be a shame if you ended up like me.”

Jen just looks at Rio for a second. The newly exposed sunlight looks good on her, highlighting the skull on her arm, the ivy on her leg, the deep sadness in her eyes. No way in hell is Jen letting anyone make her feel like that.

“You’re right,” Jen says, “it would be a damn shame.”

Rio nods, then makes her way back to camp, never one to overstay her welcome.

Jen looks back to the ocean. Rio’s right. Let Rio and Billy and Agatha dance around each other on this beach for the 48 hours they have left. Jen has made it this far without getting involved in their bullshit and she’s certainly not starting now.

Jen, in spite of herself, laughs. What perfect fucking revenge it would be. To simply not care. Suddenly she can’t stop laughing, alone in the ocean. What an image it must be for the cameras, Jen cackling manically like a crazy woman as the waves lap at her two perfectly functional ankles.

Everything is crystallizing around her. So Agatha tripped her a few years ago, what else is new? Jen’s not sacrificing her game for that, she’s not sacrificing all these days she spent out here, all that time in physical therapy, just because a villain did something villainous. Fuck that. Jen is on Survivor. Jen is top four on Survivor. And she got here by knowing that everything that happens out here is something she can use. Even this. The other three might not know it, but even as she stands out here, Jen’s game is getting stronger by the second.

She keeps laughing into the sea, unable to help herself, feeling freer than she’s felt since a branch was placed in her path three years ago.

Chapter Text

Day 38

“Are you ready,” Jeff asks, rubbing his hands together like the sick little freak he is, “for your final immunity challenge of the season?”

Agatha wonders what would happen if she responded to him, right here on this dock: No Jeffrey. I’m not fucking ready for our final immunity challenge. Because if I lose this, I’m gone. If I lose this, I die. If I lose this, it all would have been for nothing.

She glances over at Rio, standing on the dock with her arms crossed, clearly also pissed that she has to respond to Jeff with enthusiasm.

“That Jeff guy is such a tool, right?” Agatha remembers whispering to Rio, coming back from their ever first tribal council back on Solomon Islands. “Like who does he think he is?”

Rio laughed then, a bright and easy thing, as she leaned in closer to Agatha and whispered, “I thought I was the only one.”

Agatha felt something stir in her, warmer than the flame in her torch that she carried back from tribal. She also thought she was the only one. But here was someone else. Someone unlike anyone Agatha had met, this weird and smart and gorgeous person who just helped Agatha orchestrate a truly fantastic blindside, sparking something new and interesting in Agatha’s chest that she never thought would light.

Maybe Survivor wouldn’t have to be a solitary battle.

“This will be a solitary battle,” Jeff announces now, as he introduces the final challenge on the third season of Survivor that Agatha has played alongside Rio.

Their third season. Their third final immunity challenge they’ve competed in side by side. The first time, Agatha lost, the second time Agatha won. And both times, Rio got sent home that very night, and Agatha went onto final tribal.

Here’s hoping she’s three for three.

“Todays’s immunity challenge is simple,” Jeff says. “There are four platforms floating in the ocean. Each of them have three levels of footholds. You’ll start at the base level, the easiest, and then every 15 minutes, you will have to step up on a higher level until you are at the top of your platform. After that, whoever lasts longest wins the most important immunity of the game. A guaranteed spot at final three, a shot to plead your case in front of the jury. For those of you who don’t win, one of you will be voted out of this game tonight and become the final member of the jury.”

A fate worse than death, Agatha thinks, to make it this far and just be on the jury. It hasn’t happened to her yet, and it sure as hell isn’t going to happen to her today.

“Let’s get it on!” Jeff yells, and Agatha resists the urge to push him into the ocean.

The sea is calmer today. Gone are the choppy winds and rough waves of the storm, making it easy for the four of them to settle onto their platforms, the sun beating down on them. They are positioned in a square, allegedly random, but Agatha has her doubts about that. She stands with Billy on her left, Jen on her right, and Rio directly across from her.

“And this challenge is on!” Jeff calls.

Agatha closes her eyes. The last thing she needs to see is Rio’s face. Rio taunting her or flirting with her or, worst of all, what she’s been doing for the last three days—looking at Agatha with those big sad brown eyes like Agatha killed her fucking dog or something.

It’s been hard to sleep these past few nights, and Agatha can’t even blame the rain anymore. Whenever she tries to drift off, she sees Rio in the rain, Rio finally closing herself off, eyes hard and dangerous as she says, it would be my fucking pleasure to vote you out of this game.

It was only a matter of time.

Since long before they arrived at the island this time. Since she and Rio walked back from that first tribal on Solomon Islands laughing together. Since later that very same night, when Agatha’s back found the rough bark of a palm tree and Rio’s mouth found her own and never left. Since after that first season, when Agatha got on that shitty little plane from Boston to Burlington, hand tight in Rio’s, and chose to wake up beside her every morning for a year, smelling her sheets, drinking her coffee, touching the parts of her no one else got to. Since Rio would whisper the sweetest things anyone had ever said to Agatha in her ear, at first just for the two of them, then months later, in the Vermont courthouse for everyone to hear. Since they landed for the second time on the Survivor beach. Since Nicky and Wanda and the fighting and the fighting and the fighting, Agatha knew that it would always come down to this. That Rio would hit her limit at some point and give up on Agatha.

It was inevitable.

It’s just very inconvenient that it happened when Agatha was just days away from a million dollars.

“Alright,” Jeff is shouting, “you have 30 seconds to move up to the next level.”

Agatha opens her eyes only to look down at her feet, wet and pruned but still strong, holding fast. She easily steps to the next level of her platform, body swaying with the ocean.

Looking around, it seems the others are also doing pretty well, unfortunately. Jen has a serene smile on her face and Rio’s annoyingly hard body is like a statue, even on her floating platform.

“Whoa,” Agatha hears from her left, and of course, Billy is the only one who is shaky and unsteady, knees locked, like the little idiot he’s is.

“Bend your knees,” Agatha snaps at him before she can help herself.

Billy does, and immediately steadies out, his platform finding eliquibirum in the water.

“Thanks, Agatha,” he says with a small smile.

“Why are you helping him?” Rio asks, arms crossed in disdain.

“Why do you care?” Agatha sneers back. It’s easier than answering the question.

“I just thought you were a better game player than that,” Rio says calmly, one eyebrow lifted.

“Ooh,” Jen unhelpfully taunts from the side, grinning. “Burn.”

Jen has been weirdly chill since she—as Billy would put it—crashed out yesterday. Agatha isn’t sure if it’s a full mental break or what, but either way, she’s happy that Jen has apparently mastered the art of letting go in 24 hours. Or she’s giving an Oscar-worthy performance and Agatha is going to wake up tomorrow with her own ankles broken. If Agatha even makes it to tomorrow.

Either way, Jen is the least of her worries at this point.

“How I play the game of Survivor is none of you business,” she snaps at Rio.

“Yeah, sure,” Rio says, “like I didn’t get you to final tribal two seasons in a row.”

“Oh, you got me to final tribal? Pretty bold words for someone who’s never actually been herself.”

“Well, that’s about to change,” Rio says smugly. Agatha absently notes that she’s outrageously hot when she’s being full of herself. Whatever.

“The challenge isn’t even over,” Billy chimes in. “None of us are guaranteed final tribal until one of us wears the necklace.”

Billy’s words lose some of their power when his foot slips a little on his platform. For a second, it looks like he’s about to fall. Agatha’s chest squeezes tight for him, and then he’s upright again.

Rio laughs at him.

“Sure, Teen,” she says. “None of us are guaranteed final tribal. But we all know if the vote is split two-two, it comes down to fire. You really think you could beat me at fire? Could beat Jen at fire?”

“Maybe,” Billy says petulantly. “You don’t know.” Agatha is a little proud of him.

“Sure, Billy,” Jen says, with both kindness and condescension.

“Face it,” Rio says, far less kindly. “It’s you or Agatha tonight. And we all know that.”

A wave passes through the ocean and all four of them stop to brace themselves.

“Knees!” Agatha shouts at Billy, who complies, crouching down as the wave passes, and all four of them are still safe.

“So I ask again,” Rio says, straightening up. “Why are you helping him? If he wins immunity, you’re done for.”

Agatha doesn’t dignify the question with an answer. Even the easy answer, the one that is true but not fully—that the more affection she shows Billy, the angrier Rio gets. That’s just a fun perk.

The real answer is more muddled, complicated, further down in the ocean than four platforms floating on its surface. It’s that Agatha thought Billy would never speak to her again, but he still laughs at her jokes, and sometimes she catches him looking at her like Nicky did, like she’s someone special and important who is worthy of this specific kind of adoration. That Billy is the only person in this game who has never wanted to vote Agatha out, even with everything.

Plus, there’s the side benefit that their alliance will piss off his dear mother. It’s the little things that keep you going out here.

“Alright!” Jeff calls. “Time to step up to the next level. You have 30 seconds.”

Agatha concentrates, moving her feet up to the penultimate level of the platform. Her calves are already aching, but what else is new? Some part of her out here is always hurting.

A gust of wind comes right as Agatha plants her feet, and she has to crouch down not to be blown over. Please, she begs no one in particular, not this time. Not when she’s made it this fair. Not when she’s lost everything else, she cannot lose this challenge.

There’s a splash to her right suddenly, and Agatha breathes a sigh of relief.

“And just like that, Jen is the first one out of this challenge,” Jeff calls.

Agatha steadies herself as the wind dies down. She made it. And Jen did not. Perfect.

Jen seems alarmingly nonplussed by the whole thing. She pulls herself out of the water and onto the dock, leisurely lying down on her back.

“Can’t win ‘em all,” she says simply. Agatha cannot believe this is the same woman who knocked her rice into the sand yesterday.

“Some would argue that this is actually the most important challenge to win,” Jeff says.

“Sure, Jeff,” Jen says, spreading out on the dock. “But I actually haven’t had time to sunbathe between the storm and all the challenges, so I’m just gonna do as Sheryl Crow commands.”

“Soak up the Sun,” Billy says, giggling. “Nice.”

“Thanks, kid.”

Agatha wonders if there’s any chance Rio is wrong, that it wouldn’t come down to 2-2 firemaking. If Agatha wins immunity, she wonders if there’s a world where Jen votes out Rio instead of Billy. She seems to like him at least a little, not immune to his sweet little gay boy charm.

Even so, even if Jen would maybe keep Billy, there’s no way in hell she would keep Agatha. Which just means Agatha has to win.

“Do you think that Sheryl Crow’s ‘Strong Enough’ was inspo for boygenius’ ‘Not Strong Enough?’” Billy is casually asking Jen when the next gust of wind comes.

“Billy! Knees!” Agatha calls, but it’s too late.

The teen’s thoughts on singer-songwriters apparently outweigh his survival instincts, because like a gay bowling pin struck by a ball, he wobbles onto one foot, then the other, and then he’s in the water.

What an idiot. Agatha feels a pang for him.

“And we have a showdown!” Jeff shouts gleefully. “This is the third endurance challenge this season that has come down to Rio versus Agatha. One won by Agatha, and one by Rio. And now, the important challenge of the season is the tiebreaker.”

“He’s such a drama queen,” Agatha says to Rio before she can help herself.

Rio doesn't respond. Agatha swallows a little. Whatever.

Over at the dock, Billy is pulling himself from the water.

“Tough break,” Jen says to him with a grimace.

Billy shakes his head. “Can’t believe I made a million dollar mistake because I was talking about boygenius.”

“And from the only non-lesbian left,” Jen says. “Take that, stereotypes.”

Billy laughs a little, but there’s a darkness to it. Now that Agatha knows the rage he’s capable of, she wonders if it will come bubbling up.

Instead, he says jovially to Jen, “I do need to work on my tan though, as it is, uh, non-existent.”

Jen chuckles. “Welcome to the dock, kid. Best spa on the island.”

Billy smiles at her. And it clicks. He had the same thought Agatha did; that if he can play nice with Jen, maybe Jen will take him instead of Rio. Smart fucking kid.

Now all Agatha needs to do is win.

“And it’s time to step up to the final level,” Jeff calls. “You have 30 seconds. And after that, well, we have all day until tribal.”

Agatha braces herself for more wind, but it doesn’t come. She easily steps to the top of her platform, as Rio does the same. It’s harder at the top, their feet have to be close together, meaning there is no option to have a wide and solid stance. The next wave or wind could take out one or both of them.

Agatha prays it to take out Rio first.

Which is a tall order, given that Rio is, well, Rio. She’s sturdy, built for a farm. Even being leaner from Survivor, she is a steady presence as she stands on her platform, the stray hairs from her ponytail whipping around her face the only motion present. Agatha looks at Rio’s legs, so strong on the platform, the ivy covering her thigh not moving one bit.

I got this to get over a girl, Rio said back at the merge, what feels like an eternity ago.

Did it work? Agatha wants to ask. Are you finally over me? Did Rio finally wake up to the truth that Agatha is not a person Rio needs to waste her affection on? Rio loves in the same way she is built, sturdy and steadfast and unwavering, and Agatha wasn’t built to be loved like that.

For the first time this whole challenge, Agatha looks up directly into Rio’s eyes. Agatha has always loved Rio’s eyes. The way they appraised Agatha back on Day One of Solomon Islands, and every day since, seeing through Agatha’s game in a way no one else ever did, and instead of turning on her, choosing to join her, to help her. That’s fucking Rio, always there even if Agatha would rather she wasn’t.

Agatha remembers shooting Cayman Islands, how it felt wrong, twisted, like an alternate dimension to film a season of this show without Rio. And then when she came here, the first day of Road to Redemption, the flood of involuntary relief when she saw Rio on this beach. Even with everything that happened, even with her fury and her quips for the camera, Rio being here still felt like everything was rightsided again.

How fucking pathetic.

Maybe Agatha can use it.

“I’m glad you’re here,” Agatha says, breaking the silence that has swept over the challenge.

“What?” Rio hisses.

Agatha clears her throat. “I said, I’m glad you’re here.”

Out of the corner of her eye, Agatha can see Billy and Jen sit up on the dock to watch closer.

“Agatha,” Rio warns. “Don’t.”

“Don’t what?” Agatha asks innocently.

“Don’t say shit like that just to win the challenge,” Rio says harshly. “You’re not fooling anyone here.”

”I’m serious, Rio,” Agatha says, somehow meaning it. “This game would be boring without you. Trust me, the one time I played without you, it was awful. My biggest competition was Jen.”

“Hey!” Jen calls from the dock.

Rio almost cracks a smile. Agatha can see it, the hint of amusement that she always somehow brings out in Rio.

“Say whatever you want to me, sweetheart,” Rio says, arms crossed, “I’m not budging.”

“Ten bucks says she shows a tit again,” Jen says to Billy. Agatha ignores her.

“Okay, sweetheart,” Agatha says. “Then take me to the end.”

Rio laughs, long and loud.

“You have to be fucking kidding me. After everything you’ve said. After you didn’t take me to the end?”

”What can I say, I’m the worst,” Agatha says. “A villain.”

“Don’t,” Rio snarls. “Don’t fall back on what they say about you.”

“It’s true what they say.”

“No it’s not!” Rio yells so fiercely her platform wobbles.

Agatha holds her breath, as Rio sways from one side to the other, almost tipping over, once, twice, and then—

It’s back to upright, Rio still so fucking sturdy.

“Amazing save from Rio!” Jeff enthuses.

“Amazing try from Agatha,” Rio says, mimicking Jeff’s tone. “Trying to knock me off my feet.”

”Aw, baby, I thought I did that the very first day we met.”

“Agatha,” Rio growls. “Stop doing that.”

“You’ll have to be more specific,” Agatha says. “I’ve done a lot. A lot to you specifically. Too bad there we didn’t do one of those challenges with little statues that look like us. I could show you on the doll where I—”

“And we are at one hour of this challenge!” Jeff inconveniently calls.

Right when Rio was starting to crack. Agatha can see it again, Rio almost laughing, almost giving in, almost liking Agatha again. Agatha isn’t sure which she wants more, for Rio’s eyes to become soft again or for her to fall into the water.

Seems like it’s too much to hope for both.

Agatha feels the ache grow in her calves the longer she stands there, the stiffness in her knees. She’s getting older, a fact she refuses to think about.

Agatha remembers her 45th birthday, the milestone that happened to occur while they were filming Old Blood vs New Blood. It was that sweet spot, post-tribe swap and pre-merge, when everything was easy. Rio had known it was Agatha’s birthday, but she didn’t tell anyone else. Or so Agatha thought, until Rio was leading her into the woods for a surprise, making her put her buff over her eyes as a blindfold.

“I hate surprises,” Agatha grumbled.

“You like them if it’s a sex thing,” Rio countered.

“Touché,” Agatha said with a laugh, as Rio guided her through the jungle, holding her hand tight, making sure she didn’t trip. “This better be a sex thing, Vidal.”

“It’s not a sex thing.”

“But it’s my birthday.”

Rio laughed, a warm sound on a warm day. It was one of the rare no challenge days, one with nothing but time.

“Okay, we’re here,” Rio said with something like nerves in her voice. Then she took off Agatha’s makeshift blindfold, smoothing the hair from her face with a tenderness that still took Agatha by surprise even after a year together.

“Happy birthday!”

And there, in a clearing in the woods, was Nicky, grinning widely, holding up something in a coconut shell.

“Okay, it’s not exactly cake,” he was saying, “but we got some plantains and some rice and Rio stole a cookie from the last reward challenge and I made a… concoction.”

“Oh wow,” Agatha says, holding a hand to her chest dramatically, “a birthday concoction just for me. Aren’t I just the luckiest girl in the world?”

Rio and Nicky laughed. But Agatha meant it. She couldn’t tell them, but she meant it.

Nicky stuck a twig in the fake-cake, and Rio struck a flame with the flint she had somehow managed to wrestle away from camp, and then the lit the “candle” and proceeded to sing a terribly harmonized version of “happy birthday” and Agatha was laughing so hard that tears sprang to her eyes.

And there, in that moment, with those two specific people, playing a dumb game show on a remote island, it was the first birthday in 45 years where Agatha actually felt like she was surrounded by family.

“We are now 90 minutes into this challenge,” Jeff calls, bringing Agatha back to her wet feet on a small piece of wood. “The sun is high in the sky now, it’s another scorcher out here!”

Agatha spares another glance back at Rio, who is staring right back at her. There is sweat on her temple, but she is still firmly standing her ground, still glaring at Agatha, still convicted. This same woman who helped make Agatha a birthday cake with the only other person on the island that Agatha cared about. Right before she voted him out.

“Jeff, can we have a snack?” Billy asks from the dock.

Jeff laughs, as does Jen. Oh, he’s doing so well.

“Sorry, Billy, no freebies out here,” Jeff says.

“Worth a shot!” he says easily.

Agatha can’t beeline how well he’s taking this all. Maybe he’s stronger than Agatha gave him credit for.

“God, he’s annoying,” Rio grumbles.

Agatha laughs a little.

Just then, out of nowhere, another gust of wind comes from the ocean, bringing waves with it, their platforms wobbling. Agatha feels it come and is helpless to stop it, legs straightening as the wave hits her platform and—

“Agatha! Knees!” Billy calls.

Agatha manages to bend her knees at the last second as the wave overtakes her platform and crashes into Rio’s.

Rio is too busy looking between Billy and Agatha like she’s trying to figure something out for her to properly brace herself. And her footing falters.

Agatha watches in shock as the force of Rio Vidal is toppled by something so simple as weather. But her platform sways back and forth and back and forth and maybe Rio is not as invulnerable as she seems, because, with the final push from the wave, her left foot slips and then her right and then that beautiful and sturdy body is falling in the ocean.

“Rio is out of this challenge, which means… Agatha wins immunity!” Jeff calls and it all feels surreal, like a dream. Like this shouldn’t be happening, even though it’s what Agatha has needed to happen since the start of this game.

Brain a haze of relief and body finally feeling the full ache of standing in the same spot for almost two hours, Agatha half-jumps half-falls from her platform into the cool water, swimming toward the dock. When she gets there, Billy embraces her and even Jen begrudgingly gives her a “congrats, bitch,” as Jeff ties the necklace around Agatha’s neck.

Rio does not look at her. She’s wet and angry, just like she was after the car reward. Agatha is struck by the urge to go to her, to hold her until the rage flies out of her, to kiss her so fiercely that Rio forgets she was ever angry at all.

But she doesn't. Agatha just won final immunity and Rio didn’t. Agatha won. And Rio lost. This should be the best day of Agatha’s fucking life. And yet—

“Agatha, you are safe at tonight’s vote, with a guaranteed spot at final tribal council. Billy, Jen, Rio, tonight, one of you will be voted off to become the final member of our jury. Head back to camp, I’ll see you at tribal tonight.”

As soon as they get back, Billy immediately jogs after Jen to help her “get water.” A smart kid to the very end.

Which leaves Agatha alone at camp with Rio. She carefully hangs her necklace on the post by the shelter and notices Rio’s eyes on her.

Agatha smiles to herself. If there’s one thing Rio will do, no matter how pissed she is, it’s watch Agatha. She sure knows how to make a girl feel special.

“I guess congratulations are in order,” Rio says through her teeth, eying the necklace. “You somehow always make it to final tribal.”

“What can I say?” Agatha summons all the bravado she has left, laying down in the hammock. “I’m good at what I do.”

“Hmm,” Rio says. Then she looks off toward the jungle where Jen and Billy disappeared minutes ago. “Jen won’t flip, you know. That boy is going home tonight. And there’s nothing you can do about it.”

Then Rio picks up the machete, offers Agatha one last stare, and goes off into the jungle herself, leaving Agatha entirely alone.

She knows Jen flipping on Rio is a long shot, but crazier things have happened. Hell, Lilia gave up immunity just because she felt like it. Maybe Jen will flip. Maybe Billy will be able to beat her at fire. Maybe Rio will hold Agatha tight as she falls asleep just one more time.

“I’m screwed,” Billy announces as he makes his way back to camp a few minutes later. “I need to practice fire.”

Or maybe, none of those things will actually happen. Maybe Agatha was a fool to hope.

“That bad?” Agatha asks Billy.

He shrugs, as he gathers material for fire.

“I knew it was a long shot. She says the jury won’t forgive her if she turns on Rio. Where’s the flint?”

Agath laughs mirthlesslessly. “Yeah the jury does tend to hate it when someone turns on Rio.”

Billy looks up from his little fire making station he’s assembled. “I mean, I guess I should thank you turning on Rio for my college tuition.”

Agatha laughs in spite of herself. Billy smiles back, before he turns to his supplies, and strikes the flint on the dull knife that Rio didn’t take. It doesn't even spark.

“Speaking of your dear mother,” Agatha says, “didn’t she teach you how to make a fire before going out here?”

“She tried,” Billy says, with a self-deprecating shrug. “I never quite got the hang of it.”

He tries the flint again, weakly scraping it along metal. Nothing.

“Alright,” Agatha says, getting up from the hammock. “Give it here.”

Billy hands her the flint and knife.

“It’s all in the wrist,” Agatha says, crouching beside him. “It has to be quick and hard.”

She strikes the flint against the knife and gets a couple sparks, and positions them so that they immediately catch on the husk. Of course, the flame burns out in about three seconds, because Billy placed the kindling too far away, but hey, it’s something.

“Whoa,” Billy says, eyes wide. “I didn’t know you could make fire like that.”

“I lived with Rio for a year, Teen,” Agatha says with a shrug, “you pick up some things.”

Agatha tries not to remember the early days when Rio said that same thing about “quick and hard” and Agatha laughed and laughed and then later that night, alone in their corner of the woods, she proceeded to show Rio her own version quick and hard, all in the wrist.

“Wait, wait, wait, what?” Billy practically screams. “You lived with Rio for a year? Like for real? In a romantic way? Was the Vermont farmer’s market blind item of 2018 real? I mean, we all knew that was something going on, but I didn’t know you lived together, that’s huge. Wait, so how long after Solomon Islands did you move in together? Am I allowed to make a U-haul joke?”

“Jesus Christ,” Agatha says. She would actually love if Billy stopped freaking out about her former relationship with the woman who now hates her. “Read the room.”

“Oh, fuck the room!” Billy says. “Sorry! But, I’ve been out here for 38 days and I’m going home tonight. At least let me go home with the tea I’ve been dying to know for years.”

Agatha laughs in spite of herself. This fucking kid.

“There’s no guarantee you’re going home tonight.” Agatha says. She hands him back the flint. “Work on your fire.”

“Fine,” Billy says. “But I’m not giving up on this.”

Agatha ignores him. She helps him build up his husks, his kindling, position his grip on the flint. He strikes it, and one abysmal spark comes out.

“Try again,” Agatha orders, “faster.”

Billy does. A couple sparks come out this time, but still not quite enough to light.

“Again,” Agatha says.

Billy concentrates, and then strikes the knife hard against the flint, causing a shower of sparks to rain on the husks, and a small flame to burst through.

“I did it!” Billy says gleefully.

“The kindling,” Agatha snaps.

“Oh, right.” Billy scoots the kindling over, but it’s too late, his tiny flame has gone.

“At least you got a flame that time,” Agatha says, trying not to let her frustration seep through. “You just have to be aware of all the elements.”

Billy looks at her, eyes searching.

“Why are you helping me?” He asks bluntly. “You’ve already made it to final tribal. You don’t need me there.”

It’s the same question Rio asked earlier, but with none of the malice. Agatha still doesn’t want to fucking answer it though.

“Because you’re terrible at fire,” she says. “Frankly, it’s hard to watch.”

“Come on,” Billy says. “Be honest.”

“You’re asking me to be honest? I believe you were the one who called me a notorious liar?”

Billy groans a little. He drops down dramatically on the ground.

“Come on, Agatha. I’m going home tonight. Just be real with me.”

“What do you want me to say?” Agatha says. He’s wasting time. He should be focusing on making a fire not making her talk about feelings. “You’re my ally? You never wrote my name down? You’re not my bitch ex-wife?”

It’s a joke, but Agatha regrets it immediately, as Billy’s jaw drops like he’s in a fucking cartoon.

“Ex-wife?” he shrieks. “Agatha, what? Wife? Wife? You guys were married? Oh my god, and you’re just dropping this now? Holy shit, reddit’s gonna go crazy. Twitter’s gonna go crazy. I’m going crazy! How did it happen? When did it happen? Are you divorced?”

“Billy,” Agatha snaps. “Make a fucking fire.”

“You can’t just drop a bomb like that and expect me to make fire!” He looks positively giddy, the freak. “Who proposed?”

“Make a fire that lasts longer than 30 seconds and I’ll tell you,” Agatha says with a sigh.

She has no intention of telling this teenager about her doomed love life, but she at least can use it to help him at least be a contender in fire.

It turns out to work. Billy concentrates hard, sets up the kindling and husk strategically. It takes him a couple tries to get a spark, but when he does, the husk lights, then the kindling, and then he has a little baby flame going.

“Ha!” He cries triumphantly. “Now you have to tell me.”

Agatha ignores him. “You’re going to have to build it high enough to burn the rope, which is normally a foot or two off the ground. Keep going.”

“Agatha,” Billy says, suddenly serious. “You know I won’t be able to do this.”

“Not if you keep yapping instead of practicing.”

Billy shakes his head. “Come on. Rio is the best firemaker out here, and Jen’s really fucking good too. I’m not even close to their level.”

“Not with that attitude,” Agatha snaps. “Sometimes, there’s wind. Sometimes the other person flubbs. They’ve made dozens of fires, but the pressure of a million dollar gets to them. Try again.”

Billy puts down the flint. He turns to Agatha, cross-legged, eyes sharp.

“You have to win,” he says bluntly.

“What?” She says. “Billy, we have to focus on getting you to top three, I’m not—”

“Agatha,” he says sternly. As stern as a 19-year-old with the body mass of a feather can be. “If this is my last day out here, and all the signs are telling me it is, I need you to win it.”

“It might not be your last day if you just focus for three seconds on making a fire. They really weren’t kidding about your generation's attention span—”

“Hey,” Billy snaps. “I’m serious. My plan in this game was to take you to the end and beat you because juries never vote for you.”

“Sure, rub it in.”

“But if I can’t make it to the end, at least let me help you win it. This could be your shot to actually win at final tribal. There are a couple jury members who I think are lost to you forever. I doubt Alice will vote for you because of the blindside. Lilia is very loyal to Jen. Sharon’s a wildcard. But the Shaun-Monica-Jimmy-Darcy cohort is movable. They’re far enough removed to respect your strategy, while not feeling directly betrayed by you in a way they might by Jen.”

He’s got that look on his face, his fanboy look, that excitement in his eyes. And he’s using it to help her.

“And obviously,” Billy continues. “You’ll have my vote.”

He looks completely earnest, like the Billy she met a few weeks ago, saying he was her biggest fan.

Agatha swallows. She doesn’t want to think about the jury. She doesn’t want to think about being on a season again where the only vote she gets is from a boy who is too sweet for his own good; who somehow still likes her even though she has given him every reason not to.

“You shouldn't have helped me at the challenge today,” Agatha says. “If Rio had that necklace, you would be sitting at final tribal with her.”

Billy shrugs. He smiles a little. “It was instinct. And hey, maybe my legacy on Survivor is getting Agatha Harkness her first win.”

“Even after”—Agatha feels her throat catch, which is so stupid—“even after Alice?”

Billy swallows. Nods. “I don’t think it was your best moment. I know it wasn’t my best moment. But it happened. It happened and you’re still going to the end. So win it. I made this alliance so either I could win or it could finally happen for you. So do it.”

“Billy—”

He clears his throat. “Speaking of the Alice vote, that’s something you can use. Jen wasn’t in on that vote, so it can be a hit for her strategy. But you voted for Alice. Even if you didn’t know it, you controlled that vote.”

“So did Rio,” Agatha points out.

“I know,” Billy says. He breathes out. “And that’s the thing. If you want to win, you have to tear down Rio’s game. It’s been built up with the whole Death thing. But you have also been on the right side of every vote post-swap. And you are just as much of a challenge beast. But the difference is that on Day One, right when we got on that beach, she said that she was going to vote you out, but she hasn’t. Yes, you’ve had immunity, you’ve had idols, but there are so many times she could have voted you out and she didn’t. She didn’t strategize against you, she didn’t form alliances against you until literally the last vote, when it was too late. Rio is an excellent Survivor player, but you’re her vulnerability. And maybe, just maybe, if you tell the jury that, you could win a million dollars.”

Agatha stares at him. She’s awed, once again, by how smart he is; how his brain works, putting together the pieces of the game, not just in terms of of numbers and challenges, but the way people think. Finding their one emotional weak spot and exploiting it. Just like his mother.

But this time, Agatha isn’t the victim. This time, it’s Rio.

Rio, who at this moment, is walking back from the jungle. Agatha’s eyes are drawn to her, and Billy turns his head towards her too. He lowers his voice to a whisper.

“I know it might be hard, because she’s your ex…wife?”

Agatha is still watching Rio, twisting the machete between her fingers, looking out at Agatha and Billy with a glare. It’s almost funny how she’s still mad at Billy for some shit he said almost a week ago, which is years in Survivor time. Rio, always her biggest defender even when she hates her guts.

“Well,” Agatha says absently, still looking at Rio. “Technically, according to the great state of Vermont, we’re still legally married.”

“Agatha, what?”

“Shh, she’s coming over. Make another fire.”

“You have got to be kidding me,” Billy groans, but he starts gathering materials for another fire. “You can’t keep dropping lore like this.”

“Aw, how cute,” Rio says as she stalks over. “The teen is trying to make fire.”

Billy takes it in stride, smiling up at Rio from where he’s crouching in the sand. “Well, I actually got quite a few pointers from your lovely wi—”

Agatha shoves him so hard that his ass falls into the sand.

Billy just laughs. “You really learn so much out here. From the island.”

“What’s he talking about?” Rio asks.

“Fire,” Agatha says. “Teaching him the tricks of the trade.”

“Good luck with that,” Rio scoffs. Her eyes look so tired, large circles under them. Her jaw is clenched almost permanently these days. Agatha wants to take her fingers up and gently rub along Rio’s jawline until she relaxes. But she can’t.

Agatha wonders, if Rio is looking at her like this now, how will she look at her if Agatha does what Billy says, and rips Rio to shreds tomorrow. If she does to Rio what Wanda did to her at final tribal, would Rio look at her with even more exhaustion and distaste? Would Rio even look at her at all after that?

“I’m going for a swim,” Agatha announces abruptly. “Kid, keep working on your fire.”

Agatha doesn’t look back as she leaves the beach for her cove. She can’t bear to see Rio’s sad eyes and Billy’s eager ones, even as his fingers fumble with the flint, sealing his fate with his lack of skill.

Agatha strips and jumps into the water, enjoying the sting of the cold, the salt of the ocean distracting her from anything else. She hasn’t been out here since her mother visited. Since jumping in the ocean was the only way she could escape the lingering part of her that awakens whenever she sees her mother, longing for an approval that will never come.

Last week, after she swam away all remnants of her mother’s grip on her, she came up for breath only to see Rio on these rocks. Rio, with her obnoxious need to care, to offer her unique kind of violent kindness that Agatha still craves after six years.

The week before that, when Agatha jumped into these waters, she came up to see Rio smiling at her and looking at her with want in her eyes, making Agatha feel more alive than she’s felt in hears.

This time, Agatha swims and swims until her arms are sore and her lungs can’t take it anymore. When she comes up, Rio isn’t waiting for her. Why would she be?

Agatha stands alone on the rocks, breathing heavily from exertion. Each breath feels like it’s going to catch in her throat. It doesn't make any sense. She should be elated. She has a ticket to final tribal. She has a real shot at winning this time.

But all she wants to do is jump back into the water and not come back up until her wife is standing above her, smiling.

Agatha shakes her head. What the fuck is wrong with her? Telling the kid about Vermont? Helping the kid in the first place? Mooning over her ex when she has a million dollars to win?

The island is getting to her, that’s all.

Agatha walks alongside Billy up to tribal as the sun sets. He chatters on about jury management and Agatha half pays attention, instead watching the bob of Rio’s head as she walks ahead of them.

“I genuinely think,” Billy says, “if you remember Sharon’s name, that could be all it takes to get her vote. And just be nice to her.”

“Who?” Agatha asks, just to be a dick.

Billy grins at her. She grins back.

It suddenly hits her how much she’s going to miss him. Not just for this last day of the game, but when he goes home to his mother who, despite her many many flaws, loves the kid. Once Billy is back to his home and family and away from the game he loves so much, what use will he have for Agatha?

”We’ll still hang out after Survivor, right?” Nicky asked her the afternoon before he got voted out.

“Don’t talk like that,” she scolded him. “Rio and I are doing what we can so you don’t get voted out. She’s working her magic to keep you in longer.”

“My Survivor mommy and daddy,” Nicky joked. “Always protecting me. But seriously, no matter what happens tonight, we’ll hang out after, right? Stay in touch?”

“Of course,” Agatha said, still bewildered as to why the sweetest boy she’d ever met would want to spend time with this abrasive woman in her 40s. “They couldn’t pry me away from you.”

Turns out, they could.

Turns out, even the sweetest boy she’d ever met had a line in the sand.

“Welcome,” Jeff says now, as Agatha steps into tribal council for the penultimate time. “To the last tribal council where the power sits with you four. Tomorrow, the power will shift to the jury to give one of you a million dollars.”

As if anyone else needs the reminder that this all ends tomorrow. At least tomorrow marks the last day Agatha will have to look into Jeff’s dumb face. She can’t believe Lilia lowered her standards enough to fuck this guy.

“Agatha,” Jeff says, “congratulations on immunity.”

“The necklace loves me, Jeff, what can I say?” Agatha says. There’s ease in this, at saying what is expected of her, being quippy and caustic in front of the jury and America. “After my dear friend Lilia gave it to me last night, I figured what’s one more time?”

“So that means that Billy, Jen, and Rio: one of you will be going home tonight.”

“You don’t have to play coy, Jeff,” Billy says. “We all know it’s me tonight. It’s going to come down to fire, and that isn’t my forte.”

“What is your forte?” Rio asks. “Survivor trivia? Knowing all the lyrics to Hamilton?”

“I was singing it one time,” Billy snaps, before catching himself. “But yeah, Jeff, it’s me.”

“Now Billy,” Jeff says. “You’re a fan of the show. You know that nothing is certain until the votes are cast. Are you really going to—Billy, make sure my reference is correct here—throw away your shot?”

God, Agatha fucking hates this guy.

“Nice,” Billy says, laughing. “Hamilton. But no, I’m not. Yes, I will lose if I make fire, but I don’t have to. I personally think if Jen wants to win, she has a far better shot of beating me than Rio. Rio has been on the right side of every vote. She’s literally Death.”

“Figuratively,” Rio corrects flatly. “Schooling really has suffered if this is the vocabulary of the modern teenager.”

”No offense,” Jen says, “but with dazzling charisma like that, I’m not really worried about Rio beating me tomorrow.”

This makes Rio actually laugh, grinning at Jen with her bright eyes and imperfect teeth. At Jen? Really? Agatha hopes she breaks her other ankle.

“Tough break, kid,” Rio says, still smiling. “Too bad you’re not wearing that necklace tonight.”

Agatha feels the necklace weigh down on her.

She remembers the immunity necklace that night, that fucking night six years ago, sitting heavy around her neck, as she took Rio off into the woods after Nicky’s elimination.

“I’m sorry,” Rio said once they were alone, “there was nothing I could do.”

“He got five votes, Rio. One of them was yours.”

Rio looked at her then, like she didn’t even consider it.

“He would have gone home either way,” Rio said. “And the other group needs to think I’m voting with them, that I’ve turned on you. That’s the only way we get to the end.”

“You said that you were going to protect him and you sent him home,” Agatha snapped. She felt tears come to her eyes and swiped them away. “I told him—I told him we would both save him and we—you voted him out.”

Rio stopped, eyes hardening. “I wasn’t the deciding vote here, Agatha. I did everything to keep him here. Who was the one who gave him that idol at top nine? Me. And who took him on reward at top eight so he could be strong for the immunity challenge? Also me.”

“Well it wasn’t enough,” Agatha snapped. “He’s still gone. You still voted for him.”

“I’m not the one wearing the necklace,” Rio said, hard. “If you really wanted to protect him, you could have given him immunity. But you’re still in the game and he’s not. That’s just how this game works. Sometimes it’s just people’s time to go.”

“And it is time to vote,” Jeff announces now, his canned line bringing Agatha back to the present, back to the crackling of the tribal council fire and a necklace around her neck and a boy she never thought she’d care for so much about to be sent home.

“Everyone is fair game except Agatha. Billy, you’re up first.”

In a move that Agatha never would have expected. Billy reaches over to Agatha and squeezes her hand. “You’ve got this,” he whispers. “I’ll be rooting for you.”

Agatha feels eyes on her. Rio is staring at where Agatha’s hand is in Billy’s. She doesn’t even look angry, anymore, just sad. She looks like how she did when Jeff read the votes at Old Blood vs. New Blood. When he revealed that Rio didn’t even vote for her. After, Agatha couldn’t bear to look her in the eye.

“Talk to her,” Nicky had pleaded. “Agatha, it’s just a game, you can’t let that get in the way of what you two have. Sure, she voted for me. Sure, she didn’t vote for you. But she loves you. You know that.”

“I don’t know that,” Agatha snapped at him. “All I know that she betrayed me two times over. I don’t owe her anything.”

“You’re being stubborn and obtuse,” Nicky said. “You guys love each other.”

“Being stubborn and obtuse is what I’m good at,” Agatha said. “I’m a villain, don’t you know?”

“You don’t have to be,” Nicky said. “This season’s over. Real life isn’t Survivor. If you just walk away from Rio… you’re better than that.”

Agatha shook her head. She did not want to let this boy see her cry. He had seen enough.

“I’m really not,” she said hoarsely.

Then Nicky looked at her, his brown eyes big and sad just like Rio’s. He looked at her for several long seconds, his clear disappointment radiating off of him and making Agatha feel like she was going to throw up.

“You are,” he finally said sadly. “I just hope you figure it out some day.”

And then he walked away.

Agatha wonders how sweet Nicky, six years later, will look at Agatha when he turns on the TV months from now to see her tearing Rio apart tomorrow. She wonders if he will still think she’s better than her reputation.

Billy gives Agatha’s hand one last squeeze before he gets up to vote. Something tears in Agatha’s chest.

“Jeff, wait!” she calls before she’s aware of it. She stands up, stopping Billy in his tracks.

Jeff chuckles a little.

“Is there something you need to get off your chest before we vote?”

“You know what, Jeffrey,” she says. She’s suddenly calm. “There is.”

Then she reaches behind her neck, unclasps the necklace, then stands up on her tiptoes to clasp it around Billy’s neck.

“Agatha, what?” Billy asks, voice shaking.

“Agatha, what?” Rio practically yells, getting up to her feet, anger flashing.

“Agatha, what the fuck?” Jeff shouts, also standing up. Agatha doesn't think she’s ever heard him swear. His face is bright red, fists clenched at his side. “What is wrong with everyone this season? Are we just giving up the necklace willy-nilly? What happened to the sanctity of Survivor? Does immunity mean fucking nothing to you people?

Agatha laughs freely. Well, this is an unexpected twist. “Go on, Jeff, say a slur, I know you want to.”

“No!” Jeff snaps. “You are not throwing away your shot at a million dollars.”

“Hamilton,” Billy mutters.

“Just fucking stop it, all of you! This is not how you do it on Survivor."

“Damn,” Jen muses, the only one of them still sitting, “y’all broke Jeff.”

“Okay, so we’re gonna have to reshoot,” a producer calls. “Can’t really have our host breaking down like that. Or saying fuck. So if we could reset?”

“Fuck off, Charlie!” Jeff snaps. “God, this is why fucking RuPaul keeps beating me at the Emmys! He doesn’t have to deal with this shit!”

“Oh, you really want to say a slur,” Agatha says, delighted by this turn of events.

Jeff glares at her, then looks away. He breathes in, then out.

“Sorry, Charlie. We’ll reset,” he grits out. “I’m sorry my goddamn contestants don’t know how to fucking play Survivor.”

So they reset.

“Agatha, what are you doing?” Billy hisses while the crew repositions. “I don’t… I didn’t ask for this.”

“I know,” Agatha says. “But you deserve it more than me.”

“That’s not true!” Billy says, voice breaking.

Over his shoulder, Agatha watches Rio. She’s still on her feet, and she’s looking at Agatha with shock and anger.

“Agatha,” she growls. “Why? Why him? Why not—”

“Alright!” Jeff calls. “We’re going again. From my reaction to the necklace with no F-bombs this time.”

“Best tribal ever,” Darcy chimes in from the jury.

“Shut the fuck up!” Jeff snaps. “The jury doesn’t talk until tomorrow. Sorry, Charlie, that was my last one.” Then he turns back to Agatha with the fakest smile she has ever seen, hosting persona back on. “Agatha, this is a big choice. Are you absolutely positive you want to give up immunity to Billy? There’s no going back.”

“That’s kind of the point, Jeff.” Agatha says. “I’ve made my choice.”

“Alright,” Jeff says, clearly seething through his grin. “It is, again, time to vote. Everyone except Billy is somehow safe. Billy, you’re up.”

Billy looks right at Agatha, eyes watery. “Vote Jen,” he says. “You’ll have a better chance against her at fire.”

“Oh, hell no,” Jen says, as Billy goes up to vote. “Rio, I swear to god, if you don’t vote Agatha…”

“It seems some last minute scrambling is happening,” Jeff says.

“No scrambling,” Rio says. She’s still looking right at Agatha. “I’m writing down Agatha’s name. And then Jen will beat her at fire.”

Then Rio goes to vote. Then Jen, shooting a death glare at both Agatha and Billy in the process. Then, it’s Agatha’s turn to vote.

She doesn’t hesitate, writing down the three letters as easy as breathing. She feels giddy, like she could float.

“And I’ll read the votes,” Jeff says, once Agatha is back.

Here goes nothing.

“Jen.” Jeff says. “Agatha.” He pulls out the next vote. “Rio.”

Billy and most of the jury gasp.

“Agatha,” he hisses. “Why did you—”

“That’s one vote Jen, one vote Agatha, one vote Rio. One vote left.” He pulls out the final vote. “The 17th person voted out of Survivor: Road to Redemption and the final member of the jury is… Agatha.”

It’s the first time Jeff has ever read her name during the votes, for elimination or for winning. She finds she doesn’t hate it. She grabs her bag, and slings it over her shoulder. She leans down, kisses Billy on the top of his head.

“Knock ‘em dead, kid,” she whispers.

He just nods. He’s crying a little, the sap.

Then Agatha turns, only to be met with the full force of Rio Vidal, on her feet again, full of fury and gorgeous with it.

“For him?” she asks, hard. “All of this for him?”

Agatha laughs. “Oh, sweetheart. It’s not for him.”

“What do you mean?” There’s an angry crack in Rio’s voice. “You gave him the fucking necklace. You just gave up everything for… some kid.”

Agatha reaches up involuntarily, presses her palm to Rio’s cheek. Rio is soft to the touch, always so soft under all her layers of anger.

“No, my love,” Agatha says gently. “I gave it all up for you.”

Then she lets go, walks past Rio’s dumbfounded beautiful face, grabs her torch, and brings it up to Jeff.

“Alright, Jeff, say the damn line.”

Jeff, in spite of his attitude for the last ten minutes, laughs.

“It would be my pleasure," he says. “Agatha, the tribe has—”

“Oh, one quick sec, Jeff,” Agatha interrupts. “I’m not leaving this game without doing something I’ve wanted to do for 38 days.”

Then she shoots Jeff a grin, plants her torch in the ground, and turns back to Rio. It only takes two strides before she’s in Rio’s space. Then it’s muscle memory, then it’s the easiest thing that Agatha has done in the last 38 days and six years of her life, as she takes Rio’s face in her hands and kisses her.

It’s like no time has passed but centuries have passed as she feels the familiar feeling of Rio’s lips on hers, chapped from the island but still so solid, so sturdy, so achingly familiar when Rio kisses Agatha back, hard and desperate, then soft and sweet, then back to hard and desperate again. Agatha sighs into Rio’s mouth, holding her face tight, eyes closed, as it all comes pouring back into her, just how good and powerful it feels to be loved by this woman.

Agatha forgets they are surrounded by other people, by cameras and contestants and crew members in the middle of Fiji. All she knows is Rio’s mouth on hers, tasting her, devouring her, loving her in the way only Rio ever could. Rio’s hands come up to clutch Agatha’s wrists, and softly, for no one but her, she breathes “Agatha” into her mouth, her name full of a tenderness and reverence that Agatha never thought she would hear from Rio ever again.

That alone is worth a million dollars.

When Agatha pulls back, she knows that there are eyes on them, but she doesn’t care. All she cares about is the way Rio’s mouth is wet and smiling, her cheeks flushed, and her eyes no longer sad, but alive and bright just like how they were when she first looked at Agatha on the Survivor beach all those years ago.

Someone wolf-whistles.

“I’m gagged,” Billy whispers.

“Best tribal ever,” Darcy says again from the jury.

Agatha ignores them, ignores everyone except Rio. She leans in and kisses her again, because she can. She kisses Rio again and again, big and joyous and messy and hotter than anything that CBS has ever seen, that’s for fucking sure.

“Please,” a producer groans, “we need this tribal to end.”

“Homophobic,” Agatha grumbles as she reluctantly pulls back from Rio’s mouth. But she’s smiling. She can’t stop smiling, actually. And neither can Rio, beautiful Rio, the love of her life, her wife, grinning at her with her full gap tooth on display, hair a mess, looking just as euphoric as Agatha feels.

Agatha kisses her one last lingering time, before making her way back over to Jeff and holding her torch out.

“Snuff me, Jeffrey. I’m ready for it now.”

“Agatha,” Jeff says, shaking his head in disbelief, “never thought I would say these words to you, but the tribe has spoken.”

Then he snuffs her torch, and for the first time in her life, Agatha is overjoyed that she didn’t win Survivor.

Chapter Text

These are the Solomon Islands. Located in the Pacific Ocean, what today is part wilderness and part tourist destination, is where many battles were waged during WWII. Soldiers fought to the death right here on these islands just like these 16 strangers will battle for the title of sole survivor, being voted off one by one until only one will remain to claim the million dollar prize.

16 Americans.

39 Days.

One Survivor.

Day One

Rio doesn’t mean to stumble upon her. She really doesn’t. Rio is just here for a knife.

She’s only been on the Survivor beach for a few hours, but she already thinks she’s getting the hang of it out here. She immediately threw herself into helping make their shelter upon arrival, sweating in the way she loves, from exertion and the heat and building something from scratch with her hands.

Then the machete went missing. The good one.

Now, Rio is traipsing through the jungle on a quest for the knife in question. She stops every so often to take in the richness of the terrain, the wildlife, the green of the trees, the call of the birds. She’s so busy looking around at the gorgeous forest that she almost misses the figure crouching in the dirt.

But Rio doesn’t miss her. She’s impossible to miss, really, squatting at the root of a huge gnarled tree, a curtain of already tangled brown hair covering most of her face, but not her hands, caked with dirt as she holds the missing knife in one hand and a small piece of wood in the other.

Rio just learned eight names in rapid succession, and she tries to pair the correct one to this woman, the only member of their newly formed Hala tribe who has not been helping with the shelter. Upon arrival, she immediately almost passed out from heatstroke and retreated into the jungle for shade and water while everyone else got to work.

Looking at her now though, Rio severely doubts that she suffered from any form of heatstroke. She seems to be full of energy, nearly bursting with it, intensely focused on crudely carving something into the piece of wood. There’s a dug up hole by the root of the tree next to her.

The pieces slowly connect in Rio’s mind. Fake heatstroke. A missing knife. A hole in the ground. Carving something new. It all comes together like Rio is in an Agatha Christie novel.

Agatha. That was her name. Rio remembers it now, how it was a little funny that such an old timey name belonged to a woman who was so—

“So are you just going to stare at me or what?”

She speaks. Agatha herself is now looking up at Rio, dirt on her cheeks, fire in her eyes.

—hot. The word that Rio was looking for is hot, if she’s being honest. In a scary and unapproachable way, which is how many would describe Rio’s type. But whether or not Agatha fits Rio’s type is irrelevant. What’s relevant is—

“You have my knife.” Rio says flatly.

Agatha stands up, sneaking the little pice of wood into her pocket, so swiftly and subtly that someone less aware than Rio might miss it. But Rio doesn’t miss it.

“Your knife?” Agatha asks, with a slight raise of her eyebrows. “I believe the knives were given to the whole tribe, or did I miss the announcement that it was just for you?”

“Did I miss the announcement that it was just for you?” Rio counters. “The rest of us are trying to build a shelter, I’ll have you know.”

“Congrats. I’ll throw you a big party.”

Rio stifles the urge to laugh.

“Thanks,” Rio says instead. “So are you bringing that fake idol in your pocket to the party as a gift?”

It throws Agatha just a little, Rio can tell. Maybe not as much as Rio would hope, but there’s a slight twitch in her mouth, one that could almost turn into a smile. She steps towards Rio.

“Well, aren’t you clever,” Agatha says, smile blooming now, wide and predatory. “Little farm girl has a brain.”

Rio would normally hate to be called something so derogatory as “little farm girl” but something about the way it sounds coming out of Agatha’s mouth makes Rio almost shiver in the 100 degree heat. Also it proves that Agatha remembered Rio’s job, that Agatha has thought about her before this moment.

Not that that matters.

What matters is—

“Show it to me,” Rio says.

“Show you what?”

“The idol.”

“The idol?” Agatha blinks up at Rio. She's stepped even closer now, so Rio can see that her eyes are a startlingly bright shade of blue. “What idol?”

Rio can’t help it. She does laugh this time, at the sheer audacity of this woman.

“The one in your pocket,” Rio says, “and the real one, which I assume you found too.”

“You’re making a lot of assumptions,” Agatha says, “shouldn’t you be worried about building that shelter with the rest of our dear tribe? They’ll wonder what’s taking you so long.”

“Maybe,” Rio says. “but if I go back and tell them I found one of our tribemates—who clearly doesn't have heatstroke—digging a hole alone in the woods, I think they would be interested.”

“And who is to say they’ll believe you over me?” Agatha asks. She blinks up at Rio again, mouth forming into a smile before she immediately drops it, lip quivering a little. “I don’t… I don’t know if I can handle Survivor.” Her voice is shaking, a sheen of tears forming on her sea blue eyes. “I was just… looking for water in the woods, and then I saw that one girl, the quiet one… Riley? River? Rio! I saw Rio digging in the trees, using that ‘missing’ knife to hack away branches. I think… gosh, she must have been looking for an idol. On Day One? When we are just trying to get a roof over our heads and food in our stomachs? She… she saw me watching her and she….” Agatha sniffs a little. “She told me that if I told the tribe… she would personally guarantee I would be the first one voted out. But I had to tell you guys. I know this is a game of lying and backstabbing, but I can’t have someone like that threatening me. On Day One. For shame.”

Rio just stares at her. Her mouth is probably hanging open like a fish. Agatha wipes a very real tear away, then clears her throat, tosses her hair, and grins.

“So I don’t think you telling the tribe would be in either our interests, would it now?”

Rio can barely believe it. She knows that she should be wary, beyond wary, of this woman, but all she feels is… impressed. Agatha started playing this game from the moment she landed on the beach, and she is doing it with no regrets, no hesitance, throwing herself fully into it. It is, once again, hot.

Agatha is grinning at Rio still, like she knows she won. Rio sees her moment, in the peak of Agatha’s confidence, and snatches the machete from Agatha’s hands.

“Hey!” Agatha says. “That’s mine!”

“I believe the knives were given to the whole tribe,” Rio parrots smugly. She twirls the knife in her hand a little just to show off. Agatha’s eyes follow the movement. “Listen, Agatha, if you’re going to spin tales that I’m threatening you, I might as well add some truth to it.”

Then, in one swift move, Rio presses the blunt edge of the blade to Agatha’s thigh. It’s more for show than anything else, but Agatha gasps a little as the metal hits her leg.

“Show me the idol,” Rio says, emboldened by Agatha’s audible reaction.

“Well, look at you,” Agatha says, voice low, eyes flicking between the knife and Rio’s face. “You’re more than just the quiet one, aren’t you?”

Rio feels a warmth of victory combined with something more far dangerous. She grins at Agatha.

“Show it to me.”

Agatha rolls her eyes. “At least say please.”

Rio rolls her eyes right back.

“Please.”

“Now, that wasn’t so hard, was it?” Agatha says in a sweet fake voice. It, unfortunately, really does it for Rio.

Agatha digs in her pocket and pulls out the fake idol, laying it flat on her palm.

It’s a smooth piece of wood, that looks like it’s trying to replicate a medallion of some sort. Rio takes a closer look. The edges are jagged and there is something indecipherable carved into it.

“Was it supposed to have a face on it or something?”

“Well, I wasn’t finished making it,” Agatha huffs. “Someone interrupted me.”

“Here,” Rio says, and then abruptly snatches the fake idol out of Agatha’s palm.

“Hey!” Agatha says again, before clicking her tongue at Rio. “You really were raised on a farm with those manners.”

“I wasn’t raised on a farm,” Rio says absently, examining the choppy carving of the fake idol. “I was raised in a city and started my own farm.”

She brings the blade of the knife to the wood and slowly chips away at the outside, making the circle smooth. She rubs her thumb over it.

“That’s better,” she says. “You have to be gentle with the wood.”

She looks back up at Agatha, who is watching her very closely.

“You’re very good with your hands,” Agatha says. Her voice is low. Rio isn’t sure if she’s being seduced or if Agatha is just like this. Maybe both.

Rio clears her throat. “I have been told that, yeah.”

Agatha grins at her, wide. “So you’re helping me, then? Making that thing look real.”

“I mean you didn’t really give me another option,” Rio says, laughing a little. “Either I help you or you ruin me.”

“Oh, I wouldn't say no to ruining you just for fun,” Agatha says. She winks. “But I never said you had to help me. You can go back to camp, keep building your little shelter and never speak a word of this again. You play your game and I play mine.”

Rio thinks about it for a second. Agatha is right. She only threatened Rio if Rio spilled, she didn’t actually ask Rio to team up with her. But why the hell would Rio go back to her tribe and build a shelter and mind her business when Rio now has an in with one of the most interesting people she has ever met?

“Frankly, Agatha,” Rio says. “That sounds fucking boring.”

Agatha lets out a laugh, like Rio actually surprised her. It’s a beautiful sound.

“You know that if you team up with me, I’ll eventually stab you in the back, right?” Agatha says. “That’s how this game works.”

Rio shrugs.

“I wouldn’t be so sure about that,” she says. “I’m the one holding the knife.”

Day Three

“Hala wins immunity and reward!” Jeff shouts, arms above his head, declaring their victory with the full force of his voice.

Rio lets out a whoop, as does the rest of her tribe, as they all form one sweaty and dirty group hug. This first challenge was a team effort, but Rio knows that she specifically crushed it, crawling through the mud and under the ropes faster than anyone else. She’s caked in dirt from head to toe, and loves it.

“Great work, Rio,” Luke says, in his firm and masculine way.

The rest of the tribe echoes the sentiment, all talking over each other..

“Yeah,” Agatha chimes in, “you were amazing.”

Rio just smiles, trying to react the same she did to the rest of the praise, acting as neutral as she can around Agatha. They haven’t talked since their tête-à-tête in the woods two days ago, unable to get a moment alone, but occasionally, Rio will feel the hairs on her arm stand up due to the intensity of Agatha's gaze on her. It makes her feel 20 years younger, like she’s a teenager tripping over herself because a pretty girl is paying attention to her.

It’s extremely inconvenient for the game of Surivior.

“In addition to immunity,” Jeff is saying, “Hala wins fishing gear, a huge advantage out here, a way to keep your tribe fed and ready for challenges.”

Rio grins even wider.

“I can take the boat out right when we get back,” she says as they head back to camp. “See if I can catch us something for dinner.”

“Could you teach me?” Agatha asks, sounding so innocent and curious that Rio almost believes her. “Before he got sick, Ralph was always going on fishing trips with the boys, and I always secretly hoped he’d take me.”

“Who the fuck is Ralph?” Rio asks, more harshly than she intended to. She clears her throat a little. “Sorry, I meant, um, so who is this Ralph?”

“Oh,” Agatha says, “did I not mention Ralph to you?” Then she smiles, looks Rio right in the eye and says. “Ralph is my dear husband.”

Rio tries not to audibly react. No fucking way. No way this woman is married. To a man? It’s gotta be some kind of strategy move. But inventing a husband? She knows Agatha is playing this game hard, but hard enough to invent a husband?

Rio tries to put it out of her mind when they get back to camp, busying herself with washing herself off and unloading the fishing gear. She lets Frank and Jessica set the nets up, while she gets the boat prepped, grabbing the supplies they won today.

“Still want to learn?” she asks Agatha..

“If you wouldn’t mind,” Agatha says meekly.

Jesus Christ.

“Let’s go.”

Rio rows them out deep into the ocean. There’s an extra set of oars, but Agatha opts to lie back in the sun while Rio does all the work.

Rio waits until they are a good enough distance from camp that there’s no way anyone else will hear them before she stops the boat. There’s a million things she should ask Agatha: what she’s learned about tribal dynamics of the last few days, how she’s planning to play the idol, if anyone else is onto her.

Instead Rio lets out, “husband?”

Agatha honest to god cackles.

“You know that twice as many married women have won Survivor than single women?” Agatha says once she recovers. “And all of them were married to men.”

“So you invented a husband?” Rio says, laughing in disbelief. “You’re insane.”

“Oh, Ralph is very real,” Agatha says, grinning.

“But he’s not your husband, right?”

“Rio,” Agatha says, sitting up. “I came out here to talk about strategy, not my husband.”

Rio must make a face at the word husband, because Agatha just laughs.

“Slow down, Tiger,” Agatha says, “and tell me about the buff alliance.”

“So I take it you don’t want to learn to fish.”

“Smart girl,” Agatha says, leaning back again. “You can fish and strategize at the same time, right?”

“I think I’ll manage,” Rio says flatly. But she can’t help it, she’s grinning. She pulls out the fishhooks. “Hey you don’t happen to have the fake idol on you, do you?”

“I don’t know what you’re—”

“Agatha.”

Agatha grins. “You got me.”

Then she digs in her shorts pocket and pulls out the circle of wood.

Rio takes it and looks closely at it. “What is it supposed to be? A face? A coin?”

Agatha sighs dramatically. Then she reaches her hand into her cleavage, which is pretty extensive, given she’s only wearing her buff as a shirt, and pulls out a necklace with one big bead. Rio makes sure her eyes are on the idol, not where Agatha’s hand just was.

“Here,” Agatha says, like it’s nothing. “This is what the real one looks like.”

“Wow,” Rio drawls, “most girls don’t show their idol until at least the third date.”

Agatha laughs delightedly. “Don’t make me regret it.”

Rio takes the idol in her hand and looks at it. It’s one of those probably culturally insensitive easter-island type faces, carved into a large wooden bead. She looks back to the wooden circle in her hand and then takes the fishhook and makes what could maybe be a face in the pliable wood, glancing back at the idol for reference. Agatha’s eyes are focused on only her.

After a few minutes, Rio holds the newly carved face up next to the real one.

“What do you think?” she asks, hating how much she craves Agatha’s approval.

Agatha looks back between the two idols, and a smile creeps over her face.

“Rio,” she says, low and slow, “you are a marvel.”

Rio thinks she’s blushing. She quickly gives both idols back to Agatha, and focuses on setting up the fishing lines.

“I mean, I just think if you’re going to make a fake idol, it should look real.”

“I agree,” Agatha says. “I think that goes the other way.”

Rio looks down at her fishing line setup, which she has done completely backwards.

“Right,” she says.

“Well, I appreciate the assist,” Agatha says, leaning back in the boat again. “Luke is going to feel like a fool when he pulls it out.”

“Luke?” Rio asks. “You’re gunning for Luke? Bold move.”

“That’s why I need you to tell me about the buff alliance. He’s leading them, right?”

Rio nods. She has been accidentally inducted into the “buff alliance,” five of their nine person tribe with obvious physical strength: herself, Luke, Jessica, Frank, and Scott, banding together in case anyone sees them as threats.

But Rio is much more excited by whatever is happening in this fishing boat than her four tribemates back home. She never even considered joining the buff alliance for real, when she has someone like this confiding in her.

“Yeah,” Rio says, “Luke is leading us, but he’s the closest with Jessica.”

“Good,” Agatha says. “We can use that.”

All in all, Rio catches three fish. Agatha catches zero, but outlines a comprehensive game plan for when they go to tribal.

Agatha, for all her blatant lies, is open to feedback, open to Rio’s help crafting how they will plant the fake idol on Luke to frame him. It’s devious. Rio is obsessed.

She also can’t help but notice how the late afternoon sun brings out the red of Agatha’s cheeks, how the longer they talk, the more freely Agatha gives her laughter, her smiles. Sure, she may be lying every second she’s back at camp, but Rio thinks she is getting a glimpse of the person beneath the lies.

And Rio is desperate to know her even more.

The sun is almost setting by the time they get head back to camp, bounty in hand and cover story on their lips.

Rio is going to “teach Agatha to fish,” but besides that, they will not have contact. No one will know they are strategizing together. Rio will stick to her alliance and Agatha will stick to her woefully unprepared wife bit, and together, they will control this tribe.

“Stop smiling so much,” Agatha scolds as Rio rows them closer to camp. “You’ll give it all away.”

“Sorry,” Rio says, trying to school her face. “I’m just having fun.”

Agatha looks at her then, something almost soft in her eyes, before she says, “me too.”

Day Nine

“Hey this is kind of a crazy question, but Luke didn’t tell you about an idol, did he?”

Rio carefully looks up from the fire. Jessica is above her, anxiety in her stance, fidgeting with her hands as she asks the question.

It’s go time.

“Luke?” Rio asks innocently. “No. But, I mean, if he did have an idol, you would be the person he would tell, right?”

Jessica’s smiles tightly. “You would think, wouldn't you?”

Rio has to resist the urge to grin. It’s all going to plan. Rio takes about ten percent credit for the whole thing, but she’s thrilled just to be a part of it.

Today, their tribe lost immunity for the first time. Today, Agatha planted the fake idol in Luke’s bag. Today, Agatha regaled Jessica with a completely fake story that Jessica has now fully bought. All Rio has to do is act innocent and let the chips fall where they may.

“Wait,” Rio says, like the pieces are just connecting. “Does Luke have an idol? And he didn’t tell any of us?”

“Get this,” Jessica says, lowering her voice to a whisper, “apparently he told Agatha about it. He wants to take the weaker players like her and Lilia further and is stringing you and me along.”

“That’s crazy,” Rio says, actually meaning it. Mostly, it’s crazy that anyone would refer to Agatha as a weak player, even though Rio knows that’s part of her act. “I really thought we could trust him.”

“Me too,” Jessica says darkly. “I don’t know how much I fully believe Agatha, but it would be such an elaborate lie for just our first tribal.”

“Right,” Rio says, trying to hold back any semblance of amusement, “and she doesn't seem the type.”

Rio, planting the seeds, glances over to the shelter, to all the bags.

“I mean,” she says slowly. “We could always look. See if he has an idol hidden there.”

“I don’t know,” Jessica says. She shakes her head. “I’m gonna talk to him first and then… we’ll see.”

“Sure,” Rio says. “Just keep me updated.” She goes back to the fire, and then as if the thought just occurred to her, “Jess—if it is bad, if he was lying… you know that you have my vote, right? I’m on your side.”

Jessica smiles. “Thanks, Rio.”

Rio nods, smiles back, watches the flame catch onto wood. It’s too damn easy out here.

Rio happily takes a back seat as the afternoon scrambling starts. She sees Jessica and Luke go off together, Jessica and Frank go off together, Jessica and Agatha go off together, Agatha and Lilia go off together, all while Rio hangs out at camp and makes rice. She’s sure to the naked eye, she has no idea what is going on.

“Hey, do you have any idea what’s going on?” Scott, the most generic man she’s ever met, asks.

“Nope,” Rio says easily.

“Cool,” Scott says, “same.”

By the time the sun is beginning to sink down over the horizon, Jessica comes back to camp, pulls Rio aside with a fury in her eyes and says, “it’s Luke. We have to blindside him. We can’t trust him out here. He kept insisting he didn’t have an idol, but Agatha showed it to me in his bag.”

God, she’s good.

“Okay,” Rio says easily. “It’s Luke.”

Rio has to resist the urge to show anything on her face. She has to resist the urge to lock eyes with Agatha across camp. It’s working. Agatha’s insane idea to take out the leader of the tribe is already being set in place with just a few well-placed lies. And these people have no idea it traces back to her. Rio feels immensely privileged to have the inside scoop, to know that all the chaos at a camp traces back to one woman and her sharp mind.

Rio remains quiet at tribal. She speaks up only about camp life, how much she loves it, how great the fishing gear is. She doesn’t want anyone to associate her with any part of the strategy.

“So it’s been nine days out here,” Jeff says, “and I’m sure alliances are forming. Agatha, are you at all worried about who is teaming up with whom?”

“What I’m worried about is which plants are poisonous out here, Jeff,” Agatha says with a laugh. “Because I’ll eat anything at this point.”

Jeff chuckles along with her. “So it’s safe to say you are more concerned with surviving than Survivor?”

“Very safe to say,” Agatha says. “But I’d like to think I’m getting just a little bit of a handle on the social dynamics out here.”

She blinks up at Jeff, with a self-deprecating smile. She’s absolutely lethal, and the six other people on their tribe have no idea.

“Jessica,” Jeff asks, “are there loyalties out here already? Alliances forming?”

“Oh sure, Jeff,” Jessica says. “But you know how this game is. What someone says to your face needs to be taken with a grain of salt.”

She’s right on that, just not about which person.

And so it goes. After a few more minutes of discussion where no one says the quiet part out loud, everyone goes up to cast their votes. Then the producers bring the little pot of votes to Jeff, specific about what order he reads them in. Jeff looks so full of himself up there, grinning at the contestants like he knows more than them. Rio thinks he’s getting just a little lip filler these days.

“I’ll read the votes,” Jeff says.

In a moment of either panic or elation or both, Rio’s eyes flick to Agatha. For just a second, Agatha looks right back at her, a ghost of a smile on her lips, the moment of anticipation before their plan either succeeds or fails. Then Agatha looks away.

“Lilia,” Jeff reads. Poor Lilia, back here for the 5th or 6th time, is an easy scapecoat to be the first boot. Or at least the cover for the first boot, when they really gun for Luke. “Lilia. Lilia. That’s three votes Lilia.”

Rio has seen many a season of Survivor, she knows that the vote reading always has a misdirect, but even so, her stomach clenches. She doesn’t want Lilia to get voted out. Lilia is sweet and can cook fish really well and most importantly, she isn’t Luke. If their plan fails and Luke doesn't get most of the votes, Lilia will go home, and Rio can say goodbye to furtive glances at tribal and plotting on the fishing boat and the way that Agatha grins at Rio when she’s reluctantly impressed.

Also Rio’s game will be fucked, which is definitely more important.

“Luke,” Jeff reads. Oh thank god. “Luke. Luke. That’s three votes Luke, three votes Lilia, two votes left. Luke. The third person voted out of Survivor: Solomon Islands is Luke.”

When he stands, there is betrayal on Luke’s face, hurt on Jessica’s, relief on Lilia’s, confusion on Scott’s. Rio doesn’t pay them any mind. She only has eyes for one person. She watches Agatha’s sharp eyes take in everything, watches the way Agatha’s mouth purposefully doesn't smile. Rio wants to crawl inside her brain and see how she does it.

On the walk back to tribal, Rio finds herself falling into step with Agatha, unable to help it. They can’t talk strategy, Rio knows, though she is desperate to.

Instead, Agatha says, “that Jeff guy is kind of a tool, right?” And Rio laughs long and hard.

“I thought I was the only one,” she says.

“Someone needs to tell him that too much filler is not a good look for a man his age,” Agatha says.

“Oh, someone has,” Lilia says from behind them, “but he doesn't listen, I’m afraid.”

Agatha and Rio share a glance at whatever that means. Rio can’t help but laugh. She feels high. They did it. They pulled it off. They own this tribe.

There’s no chance that Rio will sleep tonight, she’s too buzzed from tribal, from the lilt of Agatha’s smile. Rio doesn’t even bother going into the shelter, stoking the fire and smiling to herself, while the others go off to sleep.

She can see all of the stars out here, even more than her place in Vermont. The moon is not quite full, and it shines so brightly on the camp that Rio can still see everything. She fucking loves it out here.

Even more so, when her eyes are drawn back to the shelter, specifically one figure, slowly rising up out of it.

Agatha walks over to the other side of the fire and presses a finger to her lips. Rio nods and Agatha smiles at her, then turns around, heading right for the jungle.

She doesn’t have to gesture at Rio to follow; Rio just knows. She does one last check on the fire before following Agatha into the woods, trailing about ten yards behind her. The cameramen have either passed out on the job or are looking for something else, because it doesn't seem like they’re being filmed as Rio walks behind Agatha blindly through the twisting trails of the jungle like some kind of dyke Eurydice.

The moonlight illuminates Agatha’s hair as it falls in waves down her back, and Rio can’t seem to stop looking at it, as Agatha leads her further and further into the forest.

Finally, Agatha reaches a clearing in the middle of the woods, far enough away that there is no way anyone can see or hear them. Agatha turns around, and if Rio were indeed dyke Euridyce, she would happily be sent back to hell for the way that Agatha is looking at her, eyes alight and sparkling, grin wide and untampered.

“We did it,” Agatha says with a joyful laugh, “we really fucking pulled it off.”

Rio laughs in response, giddy with it.

“You pulled it off," she clarifies. “Holy shit, Agatha, you were so incredible at tribal, I almost believed you didn’t know what was going on. Not just tribal, this whole thing.”

Agatha tosses her hair, grins. “Well, you sure know how to flatter a girl.”

“I mean it,” Rio says, stepping unconsciously closer, “you were amazing. Genuinely incredible.”

Agatha’s eyes grow a little serious. She looks down for a split second, bravado dropping until it comes right back.

“Well, I’m just a naturally gifted liar, I suppose. My mother said I should have become an actress or a whore.”

Rio blinks at her.

“That’s a terrible thing to say to your daughter.”

“Isn’t it?” Agatha says breezily. Then her eyes focus in on Rio. “I like you, Rio.”

Rio thinks she’s blushing. She’s also pretty sure she’s being played, but she can’t bring herself to care.

“You’re just saying that because we did a blindside together.”

Agatha grins. “And what a blindside it was.”

Rio can’t help laughing. “Right? Did you see Luke’s face?”

“Did you see Jessica’s face?”

“They were stunned.”

“Shocked.”

“And they have no idea what’s coming,” Rio says.

“No fucking clue,” Agatha agrees.

They have become very close to one another. So close that Rio can see Agatha’s individual eyelashes, can see each bit of skin on her chapped lips.

“Rio,” Agatha says slowly. “You’re staring.”

“Oh,” Rio says dumbly, hoping the night sky covers up for the fact that she’s definitely blushing now. “I didn’t mean to—”

“Not just now,” Agatha says, casually. “You know it’s hard to pull off this whole secret alliance thing when you keep watching me.”

She’s smiling when she says it, but Rio feels her gut twisting, that she’s been caught in the act. She swallows, looks into Agatha’s eyes, still bright and sharp. Rio takes a risk.

“I think you like it,” she says boldly. “That I’m watching you.”

“Not if it’s messing up my game.”

Rio grins. “Sure, Agatha. Your game.”

Agatha grins back. She drips her voice to a whisper. “Careful.” She leans in closer so her breath hits Rio’s face. “You might be forgetting the reason we’re here.”

Rio might be forgetting a lot of things. The reason they are here. Her own middle name. The fact that there’s been anyone else in her years of existence that she’s ever wanted as much as the woman standing in front of her. The last thing on her mind is the game of Survivor, and she knows that’s bad. She knows she’s losing the plot, a fly already stuck in Agatha’s honey.

But, oh, what sweet honey it is.

“Sure,” Rio says. “What’s the cliché, again? I didn’t come here to make friends.”

Agatha laughs, low and beautiful and Rio can’t remember any good reason to resist her.

“Oh, honey, I wasn’t talking about friendship.”

“Neither was I,” Rio says, and like the foolish fly she is, she leans forward and presses her mouth to Agatha’s.

She kisses Agatha and everything slots into place. Her bare feet on the hard dirt, the bright moonlight, the bugs chirping in the jungle, all perfectly aligned for her to taste Agatha’s mouth.

She pulls back after a second, brain refocusing, realizing there is a strong chance she has just made a colossal idiot of herself.

But when she opens her eyes, she only sees the moonlight reflecting off Agatha’s cheeks, her eyes blinking open, her mouth wet and perfect. And maybe Rio would be a colossal idiot if she didn’t kiss this woman.

“Wow,” Agatha drawls, sounding like sex, “I didn’t know you had it in you.”

“You should probably stop underestimating me,” Rio says. Then she kisses her again, harder.

This time, Agatha’s reaction is immediate. She breathes hard into Rio’s mouth, hands in Rio’s hair. Rio’s hands find Agatha’s waist, and then everything is happening too fast and not fast enough at the same time. She’s backing Agatha into a tree and Agatha is moaning, and her tongue is Agatha’s mouth and Agatha’s hand is on her ass and they are both breathing each other’s name and tearing at what barely passes for clothing out here.

“Fuck,” Rio breathes. She’s seeing more stars than the ones in the sky out here. “I’ve wanted this since…”

“Day One,” Agatha supplies. She lets out a breath of laughter, but her chest is heaving, eyes dark. “You aren’t exactly subtle.”

“Neither are you,” Rio says smugly.

Before Agatha can respond, Rio kisses her again, savoring it. She doesn’t know if this will be the last time this happens, if this is a fluke, a high off of a blindside. But if this is Rio’s one shot, she’s not letting it get away.

She kisses Agatha’s cheeks, her jawline, her neck, tasting the dirt and sweat off of it. She wants to lick Agatha clean, taste every bit of her skin.

An extremely normal thought to have after knowing someone for less than two weeks.

But then Agatha says her name, a high whine of “Rio,” and Rio doesn't care that it’s been nine days or that they’re on a game show or that this could be a bad idea. All she cares about is making Agatha say her name like that again.

And she does. Rio uses everything at her disposal, mainly that she is very good with her hands, to make Agatha say her name. And it works. Agatha lets out a sigh of “Rio” when Rios’s nails scratch her back, a guttural moan of it when Rio’s hand slides under Agatha’s buff. Agatha cries “Rio” when Rio can’t wait any longer, sliding her hand into Agatha’s shorts, letting herself indulge in what she’s wanted since she first saw Agatha in these woods.

This “Rio,” is the loudest one yet, one that echoes in the jungle, one that could wake the rest of their tribe, but Rio can’t bring herself to care. Not when she can feel how much Agatha wants her, proof at her fingertips this isn’t just one sided.

“Jesus fucking Christ, Rio,” Agatha moans into her ear as Rio slides inside of her and Rio thinks this might be the best night of her life. Even if it’s just this one night. Even if this is the only time Rio gets to touch Agatha this way, it all will have been worth it.

Day 10

It’s not the only time.

Day 11

Not even close.

Day 12

Rio rows the fishing boat beyond where anyone can see, past an outcropping of rock and into a small hidden cove.

Once in the cove, she pushes the boat up onto the tiny sandbar and then pushes Agatha onto the sand as well, immediately kissing her.

Agatha laughs into her mouth and then kisses her back, hard. It’s familiar now, even after only three nights of sneaking off into the woods. It’s familiar but still new, still electrifying how Agatha's touch lights Rio up from the inside. How she’s craving this every moment that she’s back at camp.

“So Jess found the idol,” Agatha says, between kisses.

“Oh?” Rio pulls back, panting. “Real or fake?”

Agatha grins.

“Fake, of course. I buried it in the right spot.”

Rio laughs, and then kisses her neck, her collarbone. “That’s my girl,” she says into Agatha’s skin.

Agatha laughs with it, even as Rio pushes off her shirt.

“So next tribal,” Agatha starts. “If we make her feel under threat—oh, fuck Rio—then she might play it.”

Rio leans up from Agatha’s perfect breasts. “I feel like we can use her for a few more tribals before we get rid of her.”

Agatha pushes her head back down. “Maybe,” she breathes out. “But you can never be too—oh my god.”

Rio’s mouth has now moved down between Agatha’s legs.

“So do you want to keep talking strategy or do you want me to go down on you?” Rio asks petulantly.

“Both,” Agatha says with a grin.

And that’s the thing. It’s both. They sneak off to the woods at night and ruin each other’s bodies, then have the pillow talk of who they’re sending home next. Rio is not only the person that gets to touch Agatha like this, but she’s also the one she confides in, plans out game moves with.

It’s a little too perfect. And what’s worse, the worst of it all, is that Rio still craves more. She wants the sex and the strategy and an illusive third thing, the soft look in Agatha’s eyes that only comes out when she doesn’t think Rio is watching, or for Agatha to confide in her about things that aren’t who to eliminate next or how many fingers she wants.

But Rio knows not to push a good thing. The last thing she’s going to do is question what they have already going on, the last thing Rio needs to do is ask—

Day 16

“So, what are we?”

In Rio’s defense, she’s a little drunk. Their reward challenge today was to board a yacht sponsored by Applebee’s, for burgers and margaritas and lava cake, and Rio may have indulged a little too much.

In more ways than one; after they filled their stomachs, Rio and Agatha happened to go to the bathroom at the same time and, well, here they are.

“What are we?” Agatha echoes, pulling back from Rio’s mouth from where she's pressed her against the sink. She’s laughing. She tastes like French fries. “You’re asking ‘what are we’ on the Applebee’s boat?”

Rio’s head is spinning a little. “Maybe not the best timing.”

“You had, what, two drinks? I thought you had that sturdy farmer’s bod.” Agatha is still laughing, but not unkindly.

“Well, this sturdy farmer’s bod hasn’t had a real meal in 16 days,” Rio says. Her face feels warm.

“Well, maybe that sturdy farmer’s bod should focus on making the merge before you give me your class pin.”

“I’m not—” Rio may have had two margaritas on the Applebee's boat, but she’s conscious enough to walk it back. “I’m not giving you my class pin. I was talking about the merge.”

“Uh-huh,” Agatha says, smiling a little too knowingly.

“I mean,” Rio says, "It's coming up. And when the fake idol gets played, then people are going to start to suspect one of us would have made it. So, um, I guess what I’m saying is… is this going to last after the merge? Because I’ll go with you to the end, Agatha. Top two. If you’ll have me.”

Oh god. Somehow in the act of Rio trying not not to be pathetic and vulnerable, she got even more pathetic and vulnerable. The lethal combination of tequila and meat and sugar twists in her stomach.

Agatha just looks at her, searchingly.

“You mean that, don’t you?” She says, quietly.

“Yeah,” Rio says, swallowing. “We both know I’m not half as good of a liar as you.”

“Obviously,” Agatha says. She tosses her hair out of her face, smiles, but then her expression grows guarded. “So why the hell would you want to take me to the end? Someone who you’ve seen lie to every other person on this tribe?”

“Because I like you,” Rio says, and it sounds so fucking stupid coming out of her mouth that she kind of wants to jump out of the Applebee’s boat into the sea. “I mean, I like how you play the game. And honestly, at this point, I know where the bodies are buried. If you come for me… then I’ll just come for you.”

Agatha grins, a tension falling off of her. “Baby, we both know you’re not ready for that.” She kisses Rio on the mouth, quick, before pulling back. “We’ve been down here too long. Wait five minutes before coming out.”

Rio nods. Her lips are tingling. “So, wait, you didn’t… top two?”

Agatha shakes her head, gives Rio a smile that Rio can’t read.

“Rio,” she says slowly, “you’re the only one in this game I haven’t lied to yet. Let’s not change that.”

Day 18

“If anyone has a hidden immunity idol and wants to play it, now would be the time to do so.”

Rio holds her breath.

“Jeff,” Jessica calls, pulling out the medallion that Rio so expertly carved all those days ago. “I’d like to play this.”

Rio breathes out.

“Whoa, Jess had an idol?” Scott says. “Bummer.”

Oh poor Scott. What he doesn't know would fill the whole Pacific Ocean at this point. That Jess’ idol is no more real than Jeff’s lips; that Agatha persuaded her to play it tonight instead of fighting for votes. That Rio pretended to be ignorant of everything. That’s it’s all working.

Jessica brings the idol up to Jeff, who examines it, purses his lips, than says to her, bluntly and a little cruelly, “this is not a hidden immunity idol. Any votes against Jessica will count.”

Everyone gasps, Agatha the loudest of all, when Jeff tosses the idol right into the fire.

Jessica sits back down, fuming. As Jeff reads the votes, and her fate becomes sealed, her eyes flick around the tribe. Rio feels her breath catch in her chest, as Jessica’s eyes quickly pass Rio and find their target: Agatha.

“The sixth person voted out of Survivor: Solomon Islands is Jessica.”

Jessica stands, eyes still on Agatha’s, mouth set in a hard line. Then she turns to the full tribe and says, voice steady, “do not trust Agatha Harkness.”

“Whoa,” Scott murmers, “that’s intense.”

Then Jessica’s torch is snuffed and she’s gone.

An unease grows within Rio’s chest as they head back to camp. She falls into step besides Scott, who keeps annoyingly confiding in her.

“So did Agatha make the fake idol?” Scott asks.

Rio shrugs. “I don’t know. Seems like her and Jessica had some kind of falling out.”

“No shit,” Scott says laughing. “I guess we shouldn’t trust her.”

“You’re not supposed to trust anyone in this game,” Rio says absently. “I think what we should really focus on is making it to the merge while we still have numbers.”

But she’s talking out of her ass. She can barely focus on whatever Scott is saying. Her eyes are only on Agatha, walking ahead unphased, acting like their game isn’t totally and completely—

Day 19

“Fuck,” Rio breathes out. She’s trying to concentrate, she really is, but her back is on the forest floor and her front is pressed to Agatha’s and Agatha’s fingers are torturously taking her apart from the inside out. “Fuck, Agatha, we need to—Jesus.”

Agatha laughs, curls her fingers. “Aw, come on, baby, you can form a sentence, I believe in you.”

“You have such a big target on your—oh my god.”

“That was really close to making sense,” Agatha breathes in her ear, all mocking and low and condescending in a way that drives Rio crazy. “You’re doing so good.”

“Fuck you,” Rio manages to get out, before Agatha’s hand moves in just the right place and sentence structure flies right out of her mind.

It takes a solid fifteen minutes of recovery for words to come back to her that aren’t Agatha’s name.

“She said ‘don’t trust Agatha’ specifically,” Rio breathes, still panting a little. “That can’t be good.”

Agatha lays on the ground next to Rio. She chuckles a little. She looks immensely proud.

“Don’t you get it?” she says. “This is perfect timing. If I’m on the bottom of our tribe when we merge, it will be easy to jump to the other one once and learn their secrets.”

“What if both tribes vote for you?” Rio presses.

“Then I play the idol.”

“How are you so relaxed about this?” Rio asks.

Agatha smiles a little, smaller than usual, before turning away from Rio and staring up at the stars.

“I’m used to everyone turning on me,” she says, with a sad little chuckle. “It’s a lot nicer in Survivor, because at least I can use it.”

Rio has about a thousand questions. But she knows Agatha well enough at this point not to ask them. She turns toward the sky, looking up at the thousands upon thousands of stars.

“Can you see the stars in Boston?” Rio asks instead. “If that really is where you live.”

Agatha laughs a little. “It is. And not really. Only a couple on a clear day.”

“They’re beautiful up in Vermont,” Rio says. “But nothing like this.”

“Hmm,” Agatha says. She rests her head on Rio’s shoulder as they both continue to look up to where the bright stars shine through the trees.

Rio doesn’t mind the silence, enjoys it actually, just the hum of the insects and the distant crashing of waves. She looks up at the stars and waits.

“There were stars growing up,” Agatha says eventually. “I would sometimes go out in this field with a pond by our house and look up at the stars. It was a reminder that I wouldn’t have to be in that house forever. That I didn’t have to hear my mom and those bitches from her Bible study group tell me what was wrong with me for the rest of my life.”

She says it like it’s a joke, but Rio doesn’t think it is. I’m used to everyone turning on me. Rio feels the sudden urge to beat some old ladies up, but she stifles it. Instead, she shifts her arm so it’s around Agatha’s shoulders, Agatha’s head on her chest.

“Gross,” Rio says, in possibly the worst attempt at comfort in her life. “I’m sure a good amount of those Bible ladies are dead by now. Or at least in loveless marriages.”

Agatha laughs, a soft sound, one that vibrates through Rio’s chest.

“And the ones that are still alive,” Rio continues, “will look like idiots when they see you redefining the game of Survivor every Wednesday night.”

Agatha laughs again, fuller.

“Redefining the game,” she says, in her now familiar drawl, “You flatter me.”

“I’m just calling it like I see it. But we have to be careful at the merge. I’ll be your eyes and ears for the Hala people, but we have to make sure we choose the right target next.”

Agatha looks up at her. Rio swallows at how close their faces are, which is crazy, Agatha was inside of her mere minutes ago, but this proximity feels newer, more intimate than what they’ve been doing.

“You really meant it, didn’t you?” Agatha asks softly. “Taking me to the end.”

Rio nods. “Yeah, of course.”

Agatha looks at her for more long seconds. Rio holds her breath again. But Agatha doesn’t say anything, just shifts back so she’s back to looking at the sky, head resting on Rio’s chest, arm slung around her waist.

Rio puts her hand in Agatha’s hair, smoothing it out. Agatha sighs into her chest and they just lay there like that, breathing together, And for the first time since tribal, she stops worrying about the votes and the alliances and how they are almost at the merge, and how any day now, Rio’s tribemates will say—

Day 21

“It’s Agatha tonight,” Frank says. “She’s turning on this tribe.”

“Aw man,” Scott says, “you’re right, but it’s just a bummer to break up the crew.”

“Well, we gotta do what we gotta do,” Rio says, stomach curling in on itself. “Hala strong, right?”

“Hala strong,” Lilia repeats, but she’s eying Rio oddly.

Rio doesn’t give a fuck about Hala strong. The only thing she gives a fuck about is making sure Agatha doesn’t go home tonight.

They moved to a new beach at the merge, and so Rio is less aware of places to hide, places to get Agatha alone. Even fishing isn’t safe here, as Gabe from the other tribe always insists on going out with Rio.

They have only succeeded in going off into the woods once post-merge and their time was mostly spent miraculously finding the second idol, before celebrating with their hands all over each other.

But now Rio needs to let Agatha know that tonight’s it. She needs to play her idol. One of them.

She plasters a smile on her face at her tribe and then turns to go figure out how to get Agatha alone.

“Rio, wait!” Lilia calls.

Rio sighs, turns around. Everyone else has disbanded, so it’s just the two of them.

“What’s up?” Rio says, trying not to let it show how antsy she is.

“I know this is a hard vote for you,” Lilia says.

Rio crosses her arms. “Why would it be a hard vote?”

“Well, you and Agatha are close.”

“No we're not,” Rio insists, panic rising in her throat. “We just go fishing sometimes. We don’t even talk strategy.”

Lilia just raises her eyebrows. Fuck fuck fuck, there goes Rio’s whole game.

But Lilia just says, “oh honey, I’m not talking about strategy.”

Then she gives Rio an almost pitying look.

Oh god, it’s almost worse than if she tanked Rio’s game.

“Trust me, Lilia,” Rio says, “I’m more than happy sending Agatha home.”

Then Rio turns on her heel and leaves Lilia alone.

Thankfully, she finds Agatha alone in the woods, near the well. Agatha is pretending to look for an idol, her obvious scrambling proving to the group that she doesn’t have one, when in fact, one has been in her pocket since day one, and another has just joined the collection. God, she’s fucking brilliant.

God, Rio loves her.

Rio stops dead in her tracks. Good lord. Rio cannot be having this thought about a woman she’s only known for three weeks who might be lying to her. This is a new low.

“Are you just gonna stand there or are you gonna tell me who the fuck we’re voting out?” Agatha hisses at her. Her hands are dirty, her hair is a mess, her eyes are bright. Oh, Rio is in love with her. How fucking stupid.

“Frank,” Rio manages to say. “Play your idol and vote Frank. He’s calling the shots at this point. We should also probably keep an eye on Lilia.”

“You promise you’re not fucking me on this, Vidal?” Agatha says. “Because if I waste an idol…”

“I’m not fucking you on this,” Rio says. And then, because she can't resist, “that will wait until after tribal.”

Agatha shakes her head, but she’s grinning.

“Trust me,” Rio says, serious. “I know that’s an insane phrase to say on this show, but trust me. Play your idol tonight. Frank will be gone. Scott is pliable. Then we can take over this new tribe. Just you and me.”

Agatha smiles, slow and devious. “Save the dirty talk for after tribal.”

“Yes ma’am.”

Rio grins. This better fucking work.

It works.

“If anyone has a hidden immunity idol and they would like to play it, now would be the time to do so.”

“Oh Jeffrey!” Agatha calls, pulling out the necklace. “It would be a shame to waste this beauty, wouldn’t it?”

Rio has to lean her head down to hide her grin.

“Fuck,” Frank mutters, then even louder as Jeff reads the votes and it’s his name on the chopping block. “Fuck!”

“The 12th person voted out of Survivor: Solomon Islands and the third member of our Jury is… Frank.”

“Fuck you, Agatha,” Frank snaps as he gets up. She just smiles sweetly at him. Rio’s heart pounds. She loves her. What awful fucking timing.

“Damn,” Scott says to Rio on the way back from tribal, “that sucked. So who do you think was the second vote for Frank?”

“No clue,” Rio lies, mere minutes after she wrote down Frank's name herself. “But whoever they are, they are working with Agatha, so they’re dangerous.”

“Gosh, I don’t know,” Scott says, clearly baffled. “Maybe Gabe?”

“Oh,” Rio says, “good call.”

Day 22

“Gabe,” Rio whispers in Agatha’s ear, before running her tongue along the edge of it. “Lie and say he was working with you.”

Day 24

“The eighth person voted out of Survivor: Solomon Islands and the second member of our Jury is… Gabe.”

“Whew,” Scott whispers to Rio. “So next tribal, we can finally eliminate—"

Day 27

“Agatha,” Rio moans. Her back is up against a tree, as Agatha’s left hand slowly and agonizingly presses two fingers into Rio. Her right arm is out of commission today, after she successfully held up gallons of water longer than anyone else this afternoon. “You’re killing me here.”

Agatha grins widely. She’s still wearing the immunity necklace that kept her safe at tribal, the freak. Rio hates that she finds it hot.

“Aw, I’m sorry, baby,” Agatha coos. “I just wanted to make you feel good. You’ve been feeding me such good intel.”

Rio can’t believe she is getting off because Agatha is talking game to her. Well, technically, Rio’s not getting off, because Agatha is such a goddamn tease.

“Well, if I’ve been so good,” Rio growls, "please just let me—”

Day 29

“Come on in guys!” Jeff shouts, as the everyone makes their way to the beach for their reward challenge. “29 days out here, it’s gotta take its toll.”

Without exaggeration, these have been the best 29 days of Rio’s life.

“I know at this point, you all must be missing home,” Jeff continues. “So we thought we’d bring a little bit of home to you.”

Rio almost forgot about family visits, between everything, but suddenly Jeff is calling out names of their loved ones to the beach. It’s a stark reminder that the outside world exists. It’s a stark reminder that there are only ten days left of this. If they’re lucky.

“Scott,” Jeff is saying, “say hello to your fiancé, Hope.”

And then Scott is a blubbering mess, which is sweet, in a lame Scott way.

“Rio,” Jeff says, “I know you missed your Mom, Terra.”

And Rio did miss her mom, the feeling hitting her suddenly as she runs across the beach to embrace her, remembering how good it feels to be in the arms of someone who knows her so well.

Perhaps too well. Because Rio’s mom immediately looks her up and down and says, “you look good. You find a girlfriend out here?”

“Mom,” Rio whines like she’s a teenager. “Of course not.” She looks away. Definitely not at Agatha.

Which turns out to be a good thing because Jeff is saying, “and Agatha—I know you want to give your husband Ralph a hug.”

The word husband hits Rio right in the throat. It’s not as if she forgot about the fake husband, but it’s different seeing him on the beach—on their beach—this pale motherfucker who needs a haircut, grinning at Agatha as she runs across the beach and leaps into his arms.

Rio looks away. She has to. If she sees Agatha kissing this man, she might ruin everything.

But then she hears, “Ralph, no.”

The exclaimation from Agatha is enough to make Rio turn back to face her. Agatha is looking at her fake husband with real tears in her eyes. “Ralph, sweetie, say it isn’t true.”

Ralph, if that’s even his real name, nods, frowning. “Sorry, baby.” Rio wants to kill him. “I wasn’t going to tell you until you got home, but when I saw your face, I knew I couldn’t lie to you.”

Agatha nods tearfully, then pulls him close, buries her face in his chest. Gross.

“Agatha,” Jeff says softly, always mining a situation for television. “This is not the happy reunion we expected. Can you explain what Ralph just said to you?”

“Sure, Jeff,” Agatha says, sniffing. “You all know that part of the reason I want the million is to pay for Ralphs’s medical bills after… well, he was sick and then he wasn’t, but now… well, the cancer’s back, Jeff.”

Then she starts crying again.

Holy shit.

If Rio didn’t know better, she would almost believe it. Agatha is crying. Ralph looks bereft. Everyone is holding her breath. And besides, what kind of person would lie about their husband’s illness?

The kind of person who would make up a husband in the first place.

The kind of person who would say just about anything to win the game.

A person like Agatha Harkness.

And well, if Rio wasn’t in love with her before, she sure as fuck is now.

Which makes it all the worse when Ralph aces the reward challenge, eating bugs fast enough to win “quality time” with his “wife” back at camp. Which means this man is going to come with them back to Rio’s beach. She has to cook him rice, catch fish for him, all while he and Agatha have to pretend they are in love. Disgusting.

“Rio,” Rio’s mom whispers to her as they hug goodbye. “The married woman, really? Her husband has cancer.”

“It’s not—” Rio is beet red. She can’t believe her mom figured it out this fast. How embarrassing. “I’ll tell you when I get home.”

When they get back to camp, Ralph and Agatha go on a long walk by themselves. Rio, unable to think about it, goes on a long walk herself, taking the machete with her. They need firewood, anyway. And Rio needs to hit something

A ways into the woods, she finds a semi-rotted tree. Perfect. Rio slams the knife into the tree, delighting in the split of it. Who the fuck does this Ralph guy think he is? Hanging all over Agatha like that? Doesn’t he know that Agatha is hers?

“Oh, hey!”

Rio whips around, machete first, only to see the man of the hour himself. Ralph puts his hands up, clearly scared. As he should be.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” he says. “I didn’t mean to interrupt the… wood chopping. I was just trying to find somewhere to piss.”

“Maybe a little further from this knife,” Rio says flatly.

Ralph nods very quickly. “Right. Definitely. Hey, you’re Rio, right?”

“What’s it to you?”

Ralph grins. “Okay, yeah, totally makes sense that you’re the one she likes.”

Rio’s hand falters on the knife a little. “What do you mean?”

Ralph quickly looks around, lowers his voice.

“Agatha told me everything. That you two are sneaking around. Allies. And also, you know…” He wiggles his eyebrows up and down like he’s 12. “But, anyway, I totally get it. You’re hot in, like, a scary way. Just like her.”

“Ew,” Rio says.

“Don’t worry, I’m gay too,” Ralph says. “And you know I’m not really her husband, right?”

“Of course I know that,” Rio snaps, even though she has to admit that the gay thing helps.

“Oh man, I so get why she’s obsessed with you,” he says, laughing.

“Did she say that?” Rio asks before she can stop herself. “Obsessed?”

“In so many words,” Ralph says with a laugh. “Look, I really do have to pee, but if I don’t see you before they ship me home… you treat my fake wife real nice, you hear? Don’t go breaking her heart.”

Rio laughs a little. Maybe this guy is alright. “I don’t think she’s the one you need to worry about there.”

“I wouldn’t be so sure of that,” Ralph says, with a knowing smile, before he leaves Rio alone in the woods with only her knife and her thoughts for company.

Day 30

“The tenth person voted out of Survivor: Solomon Islands and the fourth member of our jury is… Lilia.”

Jeff looks almost pained as he snuffs Lilia’s torch. Huh. Rio doesn't pay it much mind, though. She likes Lilia, but she was a little too smart. It was her time to go home.

And now, Rio is top six. Now, Agatha is top six. Never underestimate the power of a sympathy vote.

They are so close to the finale that Rio can taste it. With the numbers dwindling, with an immunity idol in Agatha’s pocket, all they need to stay alive until the end is for some idiot to make a dumb call.

Day 33

“Call me crazy,” Scott is saying to Rio as they walk back from tribal, “but what if you, me, and Agatha were top three?”

“Agatha?” Rio asks, pretending to be shocked. “After she just pulled out another idol? I don’t know about that.”

“Think about it,” Scott says. “With all the idol stuff, I don’t think the jury is gonna be too happy with her. So if she wins final immunity and takes one of us… then that’s a million dollars.”

“Wow, Scott,” Rio says, covering up her glee with a thick layer of dryness. “It’s so crazy it just might work.”

Day 34

“No fucking way,” Agatha whispers. “Scott?”

Rio grins from above Agatha. Slowly, she bends down, kisses the slope of Agatha’s neck.

“He bought it,” Rio says, laughing into Agatha’s skin. “He thinks it's his idea.”

“You fucking genius,” Agatha says. She’s laughing too. God, she’s gorgeous. “So that’s top three in the bag.”

“That’s top three in the bag,” Rio echoes.

Then she kisses Agatha again, hard and possessive, like she’s been doing since family visits. Agatha doesn’t seem to mind, kissing her back just as roughly. Rio wonders if she’s also thinking about how little time they have left out here.

Rio tries to ignore the daunting thought of only five days, and instead focuses on the way Agatha cries Rio’s name when Rio’s mouth finds Agatha’s nipple through her buff, when her hand dips between Agatha’s leg, having learned in just a few weeks just what makes her tick.

“Rio,” Agatha breathes, almost soft, “god, just like that, Rio, Rio—”

Day 35

“Rio! Wins reward!” Jeff calls. “Come over here and grab your keys to a brand new 2017 Ford F-150.”

Rio happily jogs across the sand to Jeff. Fuck stupid reality TV show curses, she just won a whole ass truck. This thing is going to be a huge help back at the farm, way bigger and more powerful than her old truck, which is a few potholes away from falling apart.

But that’s not even the best part of this reward. The best part, by far, is that—

“This is also an overnight reward,” Jeff says. “The crew have set up a mattress in the back of the truck, so you can finally sleep in comfort. Plus, you’ve won this basket of sandwiches, fresh fruit, potato chips, and iced tea. You will enjoy a picnic in the F-150 and then, a night under the stars.”

Rio waits for the words she’s so desperate to hear, and Jeff doesn't disappoint. “But what fun would that be by yourself? Rio, you get to pick one person to join you on this—”

“Agatha,” Rio blurts before she can help it. “I mean, it’s just so sad about her husband.”

She knows it’s a weak justification, but Rio can’t bring herself to care. She’s going to spend a full night with Agatha. Away from the beach, away from the prying eyes and ears. They are going to be alone. They are going to have a mattress.

Rio eagerly climbs into the truck, then speeds away from the beach, windows down, Agatha in the front seat, her hand on Rio’s thigh, like they are Thelma and Louise without all the cops and death.

After the drive and the sandwiches and sloppily making out in the front seat while the sun sets, Rio finds herself the most comfortable she’s been in weeks, sprawled out on the mattress in the bed of the trunk, Agatha by her side.

“I assume you do this a lot,” Agatha says, leaning into Rio’s side.

“Do what a lot? Win cars?”

“No,” Agatha says, “take a girl into the back of your truck to look at the stars. Build her a fire. Take her around your farm. Show her what those big strong arms can do.”

Rio laughs into the night sky.

“Not exactly,” she says. “Honestly, these last few years I’ve been so busy fixing up the Vermont property, starting a business, that I haven’t really had time to… date.”

Agatha looks up at her, eyes lit up by the stars. She’s got that look on her face like she’s about to make fun of Rio, but not in the caustic way that she mocks others. There’s something different about this, something that Rio would almost dare to call affection.

“Is that what this is?” Agatha asks. “Dating?”

Rio raises her eyebrows. “Are you really asking ‘what are we’ on the car reward? Wow, Agatha.”

Agatha chuckles. lightly hits Rio on the chest.

“I would never.”

But she looks away, looks back to the sky. Something in her movement tugs at Rio’s chest. Agatha may be brilliant and cunning and sharp, and hell, she may still be using Rio to get to the end, but there’s something beneath it all. Something that Rio wants to dissect like a frog in biology class. Rio wants to pry open all those locked away parts of Agatha and study them, then tenderly touch each rough part of Agatha that makes her her. Rio wants—God, Rio wants.

“I would,” Rio says plainly. “I mean, I asked ‘what are we’ on the Applebee’s boat. Agatha I—I don’t want this to be over just because the show is over. I don’t. Come up to Vermont with me after this. I want—I want more than 39 days with you.”

Rio breathes out. She doesn't look at Agatha. Just look at the stars. Her heart is beating hard. It’s fine if Agatha says no. It’s fine. It’s fine if this is just a Survivor thing, Rio will be okay. She will recover. She’s been dumped before.

But Agatha doesn't say no. Agatha leans up on her elbow, brings a hand up to Rio’s face, moving it so Rio has no choice but to look her in the eye. Rio swallows.

“Tell me this in four days,” Agatha says, voice almost sad.

“What do you mean?” Rio asks.

“Tell me this in four days,” Agatha repeats. “If I win final immunity… if I take idiot Scott to the end instead of you, because he’s easier to beat… if I cast you aside for money and fame and the win, will you still want me? Will you still want to take me up to Vermont? To make an honest woman out of me?”

“Yes,” Rio says immediately. “Of course.”

“You don’t mean that,” Agatha says, tucking a strand of Rio’s hair behind her ear.

“You don’t get to say what I do or don’t mean, Agatha.” Rio says. She’s almost shocked by the conviction in her voice. “Vote me out tomorrow, I don’t give a fuck, I’ll still want you to come home with me.”

Agatha shakes her head. Rio, in a fit of frustration and too much affection, reaches out and stops her, holds Agatha’s head steady, forcing her to look in Rio’s eyes.

“I mean it,” Rio says fiercely. “If you don’t believe me, fine. But I mean it.”

“No, you don’t,” Agatha says, just as fiercely. There’s a sheen of tears on her eyes.

“Watch me,” Rio growls. “I like how good you are at this game, Agatha. I don’t give a fuck if I’m collateral damage. I’m not going to want you any less. Try me.”

“Maybe I will.”

“Good. Do your fucking worst.”

Then Agatha kisses her, hard and needy, and Rio relents. If she’s lucky, she is going to be relenting to this woman for a long long time. It doesn't matter what happens in the game; it doesn’t matter if Agatha takes her to the end, as long as Rio has this.

Day 38

“I’m sorry Rio, but I can’t take you to the end.”

Rio looks up into the admittedly handsome face of Scott fucking Lang, the unlikely winner of final immunity. This dumb man who just ruined everything. She tries to smile.

“I get it,” she says flatly. She does get it. If she won final immunity, she would leave Scott in the dust too, but for very different reasons. But it still fucking sucks. To not be able to sit at the end next to Agatha.

“It’s just that the jury likes me more than Agatha at this point,” Scott keeps yammering on, “and you’ve played an honest game too, so you would maybe beat me.”

Rio’s game has been far from honest, but she doesn’t think telling Scott that will sway his vote. It’s one of the few smart choice he’s made out here.

“Thanks for being honest,” she lies through her teeth.

“I knew you’d understand,” Scott says with a smile.

“You have to beat him,” Rio tells Agatha when they have a moment alone, something that’s been easier as their numbers have thinned.

They are out in the fishing boat today, one last blissful afternoon in the ocean before Rio inevitably goes home tonight. She doesn't want to think about it. About spending a night not by Agatha’s side.

“No shit,” Agatha says. “Shouldn’t be too hard. I deployed actual strategy in this game, unlike that walking piece of cardboard.”

“Right,” Rio says. “But maybe, uh, don’t say things like that at final tribal.”

“Things like what?” Agatha asks, blinking at her with fake confusion. “I don’t know what you mean. I just want to win the money for my sweet husband’s ball cancer. And if I played an idol or two, that’s just icing on the cake.”

Rio grins. “Exactly.”

Agatha grins back. They don’t talk about the rest of it. About how this vote means they won’t see each other for 24 hours. About how Rio’s offer still stands to come home with her, but Agatha has yet to take her up on it.

Instead, Rio catches fish and Agatha watches and makes commentary about Rio’s hands. Instead, they laugh on the boat together, until the sun starts to set and tribal council starts calling.

“No matter what,” Rio says, as she rows the boat ashore. “You’ll have my vote.”

Day 39

Rio hates to admit it, but her vote may be the only one that Agatha’s getting.

It all starts with a clearly vengeful question from Frank, asking Agatha to lay out, “any actual strategy in this game as opposed to chaos.”

“Any actual strategy?” Agatha snaps. Oh boy. She was back in the innocent wife character for the first half of tribal, but just like that, Agatha’s sweet smile is replaced with a snarl, eyes flashing. “Sure, Frank, let me break it down starting at Day One. Remember my heatstroke? Aw, so sad. Poor widdle Agatha has heatstroke from the big hot sun. Nope. Not real. Instead, I found an idol and made a fake one all before you idiots even got a roof over your head. Remember dear old Hala? Luke? Jessica? They sure as hell didn’t vote themselves out. I did that. And I got you out too, big boy, don’t want you to feel left out.”

Oh god. Each second she talks, Rio is falling more egregiously in love with this woman. But it’s clearly having the opposite effect on the jury,

“I can’t believe you,” Frank spits. “No wonder no one would be in an alliance with you.”

“Not no one,” Rio pipes up, unable to help herself. “Agatha was my Day One. And I have no regrets. Couldn’t ask for a better ally.”

She looks Agatha across the fire and Agatha looks back. Her jaw is tight, set, trying to hang on to a million dollars that is slipping rrom her fingers. But for just one second, her eyes catch Rio’s and she smiles. Rio smiles back, chest flooding with it.

“Wait, what?” Scott asks. “I thought you were with me from Day One.”

“Sorry, bud,” Rio says with a grimace. “But it’s always been her.”

“See what I’m talking about?” Agatha cuts in. “He doesn’t know what’s happening. He hasn’t the whole game. But I do.”

“Does your husband even have cancer?” Gabe asks from the jury.

And then it’s over.

Not really. But something shifts in the jury that can’t be undone. Each explanation of Agatha’s strategy hurts someone’s feelings and Scott’s cluelessness gives him sympathy.

Agatha’s fighting a losing battle and anyone can see that, even Rio, her strongest solider.

When it’s time to vote, Rio writes Agatha’s name down for the first time in this game, scrawling a heart next to it for sentimentality’s sake.

“Wow,” Jeff says, once they’ve all voted. “What a season. Without further ado, I’ll read the votes… back in New York in front of a live studio audience!”

Then he grins, grabs the jar of votes and hops onto a helicopter that appeared from nowhere, flying off into the night sky. What a fucking tool.

“Alright everyone, that’s a wrap!” A producer is calling, and suddenly everyone is being wrangled away from tribal as the crew tears down the sets, a stark reminder that the last 39 days were fabricated for television. “Remember your NDAs! If you talk about the votes before the finale airs, CBS will sue the shit out of you!”

Amid the hubbub, Rio finds Agatha easily. How could she not? The rest of the contestants are embracing and smiling and laughing and then there's Agatha, leaning against a tree, fuming, beautiful.

“Hey,” Rio says lamely. “I’m telling you this at the risk of CBS suing the shit out of me, but I voted for you.”

Agatha scoffs a little. “You’re the only one.”

Rio shrugs. “Maybe.”

“These fuckers would rather vote for an incompetent man than a woman who is smarter than them.”

Rio nods. She leans casually besides Agatha against the tree, watching the crew take tribal council apart.

“Hey, I know which plants out here are poisonous. I bet I could spike most of their drinks.”

This at least gets a laugh out of Agatha.

“You sweet talker,” she says.

Rip shrugs, but she can’t help smiling. Yes, Agatha lost. But Agatha is still here, choosing to talk to Rio, to gift Rio with the sound of her laughter.

“Plus,” she says, bolder now. “the showers are really fucking nice at Ponderosa.”

“Oh yeah,” Agatha says, grinning, “big enough for two?”

“Only one way to find out.” Rio offers her hand to Agatha.

And Agatha takes it, warm and firm, with no hesitation. Even now, even though the game is over, even though there’s nothing to be gained or lost from an allyship, Agatha takes Rio’s hand and follows her away from set.

Call Rio sentimental or naive or foolish, but right now, Agatha’s hand in hers feels like it’s worth far more than a million dollars.

Reunion

“Taking home a million dollars, the winner of Survivor: Solomon Islands is—” Jeff starts.

Rio holds her breath, even though she knows how this is going to go. Even Agatha has spent the last six months jokingly referring to herself as a Survivor loser. But still, Rio braces herself, grits her teeth, waits for the inevitable call of—

“Scott!” Jeff yells.

The audience erupts. They are in a large studio in New York City surrounded by even more cameras than on the island, and thousands more people, filling out a massive audience, all of whom appear to be screaming for Scott. The jury is seated across from the final two, so Rio can’t even reach out to touch Agatha, can only watch Agatha glare at Scott, even as begrudgingly accepts his hug.

“Wow!” Scott is saying. “This is amazing. And Jeff, the best part of it—better than the million dollars is—” He holds up his left hand. “I’m now a married man! Just couldn’t wait.”

Who cares? Apparently this whole audience, screaming and whooping about some guy marrying someone they don’t even know.

Rio will never understand it. She sits on her hands, waits until they cut to commercial to go over to Agatha.

“Tough break,” she says.

“I know,” Agatha says. “That poor woman has to marry Scott.”

Rio laughs, unable to help herself.

“A cruel fate.”

Agatha smiles up at her. It’s not as bad as Rio thought it would be, Agatha losing for real. Maybe because they both knew it was coming since final tribal. Maybe because as the season aired, Agatha’s phone has been ringing off the hook, her email blowing up, the dumb social media accounts production asked them to make flooding with notifications. The people love Agatha. How could they not?

Rio takes a sick sense of pride that every deranged fan, every podcaster who wants to interview Agatha, every person they run into at the grocery store who asks, “how do I know you again?” doesn’t actually know Agatha like Rio does.

No one else makes Agatha coffee in the morning like Rio does, kissing her behind the ear before going out to work. No one else knows what it’s like when Agatha really really laughs, so hard that she’s weeping and snorting and wiping her eyes. No one else knows what it’s like to wake up in the middle of the night next to Agatha, as she jolts awake from some nightmare based on a fragment of her childhood, a history that Rio is still learning. But she doesn’t have to know every detail to know how Agatha likes to be held, tight and strong, Rio kissing her cheek and whispering the most boring things she can think of in Agatha’s ear to lull her back to sleep.

These past few months have been revelatory. Ever since they landed back in the States and Agatha didn’t hesitate to get on the shitty little plane to Burlington with Rio instead of going back to Boston. Since then, they haven’t questioned it. Agatha wakes up in Rio’s bed and eats Rio’s food and stretches out on Rio’s porch and sometimes, when Rio catches her in the act, feeds Rio’s goats a little extra. Agatha is in every aspect of Rio’s life, has been since they stopped filming the show. Rio still can’t quite believe it.

“Can you believe it?” Jeff asks, once the cameras start rolling again. They’ve rearranged now, so all 16 contestants are next to each other, and Rio gets to be by Agatha’s side, hand on the small of her back where the camera’s can’t see. “One million dollars, Scott!”

“It’s pretty rad,” Scott says. “For me, but mostly for my family. I was a single dad for so long, but now…”

Rio drowns out whatever boring tangent Scott is going off on. Instead she looks into the studio audience. Some girl who couldn't have been alive at the turn of the century holds up a sign that reads AGATHA MAKE ME YOUR CONTROVERSIALLY YOUNG WIFE!

Rio laughs, leaning into Agatha to whisper in her ear, “good news, that child wants to marry you.”

Agatha snorts, then looks into the audience, sees the sign. “Is she rich?” Agatha whispers back. “I’ve been slacking up with this farmer recently and could stand a little more luxury.”

Rio chuckles into the soft skin of Agatha’s neck.

“Now what are you two whispering about?” Jeff asks. Right, this is live TV.

“Marriage,” Agatha says, winking at the girl with the sign. “How we are just so thrilled for Scott.”

“Sure you are,”Jeff says. “But, while we’re here, lets talk about this unlikely alliance. Formed Day One, but no one else knew about it until final tribal. We have a little clip here to roll.”

Rio looks up at the screen, which is playing a sizzle reel of Rio and Agatha’s alliance. It’s surreal to watch it on screen, to see what millions of Americans saw every Wednesday, Rio slowly and then not so slowly falling in love with Agatha. She watches her meet Agatha over the fake idol, her smile wide and blooming, she watches them go fishing together, sneak off into the woods. She watches herself feed fake information to her tribe, and the way the camera catches her grinning for just a second whenever Agatha makes a move.

What the cameras don’t catch, of course, is anything further. They don’t catch Rio rowing Agatha out to sea and having her way with her; they don’t catch Agatha slamming Rio’s back into a tree, then dropping to her knees. They don’t catch that night in the truck beyond a brief shot of them sleeping. Some of this can be attributed to successful sneaking around—they both have a knack for knowing when the cameras are and aren’t on them—but some of it might just be CBS employing good old fashioned homophobia.

Rio doesn’t really care. She knows what Agatha means to her and Agatha knows what Rio means to her and that’s enough. About a month after they got home, Rio was doing the dishes and accidentally told Agatha she loved her when Agatha pointed out she missed a spot. A month after that, Agatha accidentally told Rio she loved her while Rio was in the middle of giving her head. They’ve told each other thousands of times since then, so much so that it’s almost funny that this entire audience of people doesn't know.

“We should do a press release,” Agatha said after the first episode aired, when comments and tweets and videos were already pouring in, speculating the nature of their relationship. “Or go on Watch What Happens Live to tell all.”

“We’re not doing a press release telling people we’re sleeping together,” Rio said, sprawling back on the bed while on screen Jeff told them what would happen next time on Survivor.

“Why not?” Agatha asked, “these bitches on the internet all want a piece of me, you have to mark your territory.”

“I’m not a dog,” Rio said, laughing. “But if anyone tries anything with you, I will bite.”

“That’s my good girl.”

“Oh, shut the fuck up.”

So the world at large still doesn't know that Agatha and Rio are together. Rio figures Agatha is going to announce it in some jaw-dropping way that will somehow earn her even more fans and praise and maybe even money. Agatha is very good at getting what she wants.

“So, Rio,” Jeff says now, “I gotta ask, why team up with Agatha?”

“Jeff, did you see what I just saw?” Rio asks bluntly. “She was miles ahead of everyone from Day One, just look at her. Who wouldn’t team up with someone so…”

Words escape her for a moment. Her eyes flick from Jeff over to Agatha. Agatha smiles at her, soft, private, even in front of all these cameras.

Then the smile turns into her wide devilish grin and she tosses her hair.

“What can I say, Jeff,” she says, “I’m simply indescribable.”

There’s cheers from the audience. The people love her. But she’s all Rio’s.

“And Rio,” Jeff says, “what do you say to the seven other members of the jury who did not vote for Agatha.”

“Oh, I would say they’re absolute losers, Jeff,” Rio says with a wide grin.

The audience again cheers. There are a few boos within them, but mostly screams. Rio has never been the biggest fan of attention, but she doesn't hate this. Doesn’t hate a whole audience cheering for Agatha on Rio’s behalf.

“Thems fighting words,” Jeff says enthusiastically. “After the break, we will be right back with a sneak peak at next season.”

“And we’re out!” someone yells.

“Great shit,” Jeff says, clapping his hands together. “Rio, Agatha, Charlie in production wants to have a word with you two after the reunion. Scott! My man! Tell me about your honeymoon.”

“What the hell does Charlie in production want to talk to us about?” Rio asks Agatha.

Agatha grins. “Oh, I have an idea.” She leans down to whisper in Rio’s ear, “they want us back, baby.”

Agatha, as she so often is, turns out to be right.

“Listen,” Charlie says after the reunion is done filming. He’s walking them swiftly down a hall, “the people fucking love you.”

Rio vaguely remembers Charlie as one of the guys who called the shots back on the island, who always looked unreasonably stressed. He still looks unreasonably stressed, even indoors, wearing a suit and a headset.

“I’ll cut to the chase,” he says, once he gets Agatha and Rio into his office and shuts the door behind them. “We’re bringing themes back next year. Everyone fucking loves themes. You guys love themes, right?”

“Sure,” Rio says.

“Right,” Charlie says. He’s texting and looking at his computer at the same time. “We’re doing another Fans vs. Favorites with a twist next time. Not this next season, but the one after. Would shoot in summer. You two are old right?”

“Excuse me?” Agatha says, indignantly. “Old?”

“Over 35.”

“Technically,” Agatha says.

“Good,” Charlie says. “You too, Rio?”

“I turn 35 in January.”

“Good. Great. You’re going to be Old Blood.”

“What?” Rio asks dumbly.

“It’s a whole thing, Old Blood versus New Blood. Fans under 35 vs favorites who are over 35. The favorites always win those seasons, so we figured if the fans were younger they might have an edge.”

“Gross,” Rio mutters under her breath.

“How much is the stipend?” Agatha asks.

“You just got $100,000 for coming in second,” Charlie points out.

“That’s nothing after taxes,” Agatha presses. “Even if I’m the first boot, I’m gonna need at least another 100k just for stepping on that beach again.”

Charlie sighs, puts his head in his hands.

“And Rio too,” Agatha says. “The people love us, Charlie. You heard them out there. They want us as a pair. So cough up and we’ll be your stupid Old Blood.”

“Yeah,” Rio says. She would go back on Survivor with Agatha for free, but watching her negotiate is maybe the best thing Rio has ever seen.

Half an hour later, the contracts are signed.

”You were amazing in there,” Rio whispers as they leave poor Charlie in his office. He might be crying.

“Know what you’re worth, baby,” Agatha says, taking her hand. Then something comes over her face. It’s just like the first day Rio met her, Agatha’s look of pure utter scheming that Rio loves so dearly. “You know what we should do?”

“Go on Survivor again?” Rio deadpans. “Yeah, I think we just legally signed up for that.”

Agatha grins. “You know that Scott is probably going to get wedding gifts and extended press and more money just because he tied the knot.”

“Okay?” Rio says. “I don’t really care about Scott.”

“Don’t you get it?” Agatha says. She squeezes Rio’s hand in hers, takes her down the hallway, so they are away from any prying eyes. “We should do what Scott did.”

“Win Survivor?”

“No, darling.” Agatha glances around, makes sure no one is watching, and then kisses Rio on the mouth, quick but tender, hands cupping her face. “We should get married.”

Chapter Text

This is Survivor: Old Blood versus New Blood. Nine returning players, nine of the biggest fans of the show, but with one timely twist. The nine players coming back to Survivor not only have experience in the game, but experience in life, all over the age of 35. The new players have fresh eyes Survivor and also fresh eyes on this world, all under 35. How will the wisdom of age and experience play against players who are young, scrappy, and hungry? Find out when these players are all on one island, battling each other and the elements until only one person is left standing to claim the million dollar prize.

39 Days.

18 Americans.

One Survivor.

Day One

Agatha spits the sand out of her mouth. She’s so close to the finish line, she can taste it. She reaches out an arm toward the line in the sand, but can’t quite make it, due to this pesky random lady from the other tribe, semi-effectively pinning her down.

Minutes after they landed in Fiji, sadist extraordinaire Jeffrey Botox Probst made them participate in a challenge for flint, a one-on-one capture the flag of sorts against the New Blood tribe. Which currently has Agatha seconds away from a point if it wasn’t for said woman on top of her.

With her arm that isn’t clutching her stupid tribe flag, she simply and purposely elbows the bitch off of her.

“Oooh and a rough hit to Wanda from Agatha!” Jeff calls. Damn right it is. Without the weight of this Wanda on her, Agatha easily drags herself across the finish line. “And that’s a point for Agatha for Old Blood! Minutes into this game and we are already playing dirty.”

Agatha rolls her eyes. She did miss some things about this game—mainly exploiting the stupidity of her fellow contestants and how Rio looks smiling underneath the stars—but she sure as shit didn’t miss Jeff’s commentary.

“Playing dirty?” she counters. “Moi?” Then, to prove her point, she holds out a hand to help her opponent up. “I just got a little carried away. Happens to the best of us, right Willa?”

“Wanda,” Wanda corrects. She eyes Agatha’s hand suspiciously for a second before taking it.

“Tough break, toots,” Agatha says with the grin of a victor, as she pulls Wanda up. “You’ll get ‘em next time.”

Wanda doesn’t say anything, eyes still on firmly on Agatha, like she’s trying to figure her out. Agatha pays her no mind. This bitch might not even make the merge, it’s doubtful she’s worth Agatha’s brain space. Agatha looks away from Wanda, raises her flag above her head in victory, and jogs back to her tribe. Back to Rio, waiting for her with a scowl. The most gorgeous scowl Agatha has ever seen, but still definitely a scowl.

“Toots?” Rio mutters as Agatha goes to stand besides her. “What was that?”

“Just being friendly,” Agatha whispers back. She raises an eyebrow. “Jealous?”

“No,” Rio says in a way that means yes. Her mouth is a hard line.

Oh, sweet Rio. Agatha wants to kiss the frown off of her face, wants to hold her close and tell her, dramatic and romantic, “darling, how could I even look at any other fool in this game when you are beside me?”

But the cameras are rolling and the show is ongoing, so Agatha doesn’t do that. Instead, she leans over to whispers in Rio’s ear, too quiet for the cameras, “trust me, she’s not the one I’ll be taking into the woods tonight and making scream—”

“There it is!” Jeff yells. “Just inside the line, Nick scores for New Blood. We are 1-1!”

Agatha turns back to the challenge to see some kid with shaggy hair and a big t-shirt who barely looks 15, grinning and holding up a flag, while Todd from Old Blood slinks back to their side.

“Up next,” Jeff says. “Rio from Old Blood vs. Kate from New Blood.”

Agatha, with an iron will, resists the urge to smack Rio’s ass as she goes up to the arena.

She’s gotten too comfortable at home, with Rio everywhere. Smiling that big smile that’s painted on her face now, as she’s about to kick some kid’s ass. It’s become second nature to fully exist in each other’s space with no barriers, a touch on a back, a mouth on a neck, Rio’s hands on Agatha’s thighs as she knelt at the foot of their bed all those months ago, after they came home from the Solomon Islands reunion.

“I need to know that you mean it,” Rio said that night, looking up into Agatha’s eyes. She’s always been so good at that, at articulating her thoughts and wants in a straight line, while Agatha has grown quite accustomed to expressing her own desires through a labyrinth like she's on a quest to slay a Minotaur.

“It can’t just be for the game,” Rio said plainly. “I love the game, I love the way you play it, but I love you more. Most. Best. I can’t… if we do this—if we sign papers that say forever, it needs to be because we mean forever.”

How free it must have be for Rio, to express something so big, so monumental like that, with a simple earnestness that Agatha has never fully grasped.

Which is maybe why Agatha felt like a child when she asked Rio, voice sounding too small and too weak, “do you? Do you really mean forever with me?

Rio looked up at her then, those big brown eyes so full of affection that Agatha could hardly bear to look at them.

“Agatha,” she said softly. Sometimes, Agatha couldn’t stand the way Rio said her name, like no one else had before, filled with a reverence and tenderness Agatha never thought she would be on the receiving end of. “Agatha, sweetheart, of course I do. God, I would have proposed to you on that goddamn island if you wouldn’t have laughed right in my face.”

But Agatha wouldn’t have laughed in her face. She just wouldn't have believed her. Wouldn’t have believed that someone could see every part of her on display out there and still entertain the idea of forever.

But there Rio was, knees on the hard floor of the house she built herself, in this life she made herself, asking Agatha to share it with her.

And Agatha, once again, found herself unable to resist this woman. She reached her hand out, cupped Rio’s face and whispered, soft and honest in the way she only was with Rio, “of course it’s not just for the game, my love.”

Rio’s face broke out into the biggest smile imaginable. The most beautiful person in the world on her knees in front of Agatha, loving her like it was second nature.

“Making it look easy,” Jeff is yelling, “Rio scores for Old Blood. We are 2-1!”

And here Rio is, covered in sand and grinning like a madwoman as she heads back toward Agatha.

How terrifyingly easy she is to love.

Especially because Agatha knows how these things tend to go. How papers that mean forever can only do so much.

But she can’t focus on that right now. She has a million dollars to win. Which is also, tragically, the reason she can’t take Rio in her arms, here on this beach and kiss the sand off her lips.

Because they have a plan.

This time, they aren’t fucking around. This time, they are winning Survivor.

Day 10

“Drop your buffs,” Jeff calls, “we are mixing things up!”

“Must we?” Agatha asks, rolling her eyes. Thank god she doesn’t have to pretend to be Sad Meek Wife this time around. This time she gets the genuine pleasure of pissing Jeff off just for fun.

“We must!” Jeff says, grinning through his annoyance. Perfect.

This “mixing things up” is barely a twist; themed seasons tend to have a tribe swap these days. Their plan has accounted for a tribe swap, and the pieces have already been set in motion. Agatha has already found and pocketed an idol, and Rio carved a fake one for Agatha to plant on Matt.

Their game is going extremely well, and will continue to go extremely well, even if God forbid, Agatha has to play this game apart from Rio. But Agatha doesn't want to. She’s gotten used to playing Survivor side by side with Rio, having someone to talk with, to bounce ideas off of, to ravish in the jungle. It would be a real shame for that part of the game to be taken away from her.

“We are doing this schoolyard pick style,” Jeff is saying. “Go ahead and draw rocks. One person will pick an orange rock and one will pick a blue rock. Those will be team captains.”

When they reveal, an orange rock stares up at Agatha from her palm. Perfect.

“Alright,” Jeff is saying. “Captains, step onto your mats. Agatha, you are the captain of the new Sakaar tribe. Kate, you are the captain of the Pyree tribe. You are both going to pick someone from the tribe you were not on. Agatha, you’ll pick someone from former New Blood, Kate will pick someone from former Old Blood, and so on. Agatha, you’re up.”

Agatha eyes the New Blood tribe. If she had it her way, her first pick would be Rio and none of the others would matter. But tragically, she has to pick from this crop of children, all of whom look worse for wear after only ten days. Agatha’s eyes fall on the woman who looks like she belongs least in the New Blood tribe.

“Wanda,” Agatha says definitively. In the brief moments they have been exposed to the other tribe, Agatha noticed Wanda tearing up at New Blood’s first and only immunity win, blubbering something about how she was here for one son or two sons or a husband who may or may not be alive. It was a tender display of vulnerability that Agatha can use down the line if she needs to.

Clear shock paints Wanda’s face after Agatha calls her name, but she covers it up with a smile as she heads over to Agatha.

“Thanks,” she says a bit warily. Then, clearly trying to be friendly, adds, “my son loves you.”

“Gay?” Agatha asks. She’s aware of her fanbase.

“Well, I mean—I don’t—he’s only 13,” Wanda says awkwardly. Oh, she for sure knows her son is gay.

“They start young these days,” Agatha says with a grin.

“Kate, you’re up!” Jeff calls. “You have to pick someone from Old Blood.”

Agatha glares at this Kate, all young and eager and fit. If this little bitch chooses Rio…

”Oh wow, really tough choice,” Kate is saying, “such amazing players.”

Kate’s eyes land on Agatha and Agatha narrows her eyes, bares her teeth. Kate swallows and looks away.

“Matt!” she calls. Smart girl.

“Wanda, you’re up!” Jeff calls. “Picking someone from Old Blood.”

Agatha wonders what sort of death threats she can get away with on broadcast TV to make Wanda pick Rio. She’s highly considering at least light physical intimidation when Wanda opens her mouth and confidently and calmly says, “Rio.”

Well, that was easy. Either Wanda is the dumbest person alive for putting Rio and Agatha on the same tribe, or she’s trying to gain favor with Agatha. Or it’s not strategic at all and her gay son also loves Rio.

Either way, Agatha is almost embarrassed by how much her whole body relaxes when Rio jogs over to them. Rio, to her credit, just gives Wanda a nod, then Agatha a small smile and a wink.

When it’s Rio’s turn to pick from New Blood, she slowly eyes the remaining players. Finally, with the careful precision she puts into every choice, she decidedly says, “Nick.”

Agatha can easily follow Rio’s thought process. Nick is young and enthusiastic, a smile on his face even when his tribe loses. He has a perfect combination of skill they can use in challenges and naïveté they can use behind the scenes. There’s something else about him too, a familiarity that Agatha can’t quite put her finger on.

But it doesn't matter. All Agatha needs to know about her new tribemates is how she can use them to get to the end.

After their tribe is rounded out with Harold and his dumb mustache, plus two men both named John, Jeff immediately ushers them into a reward challenge, one of those relay-race obstacle courses that he gets so hard for.

“The first tribe to complete the course will win a barbecue back at camp: burgers, hot dogs, cornbread, all the fixings. Worth playing for?”

Everyone, of course, cheers. Jeff would execute them on the spot if they didn’t.

“Each tribe will be divided into three groups for this one,” Jeff says, “swimming, climbing, and solving a puzzle. I’ll give you a minute to strategize then we’ll get started.”

“I’ll take the puzzle,” Agatha says at the same time as this Nick kid.

Agatha glares at him. Puzzles are her turf.

“Perfect,” Rio says, pointedly looking at Agatha in a way that says play nice. “Agatha and Nick can tag team the puzzle.”

Agatha does not tag team.

“Don’t fuck this up,” Agatha says to Nick, as they position themself to solve the puzzle.

He just gives her a goofy salute and says, “aye-aye captain.”

There goes any hope of dinner tonight.

The tribes are mostly evenly matched in the swimming and climbing portion, Sakaar winning a slight lead as Rio handily climbs to the top of a rickety structure to chop through a rope and release puzzle pieces. The skull on her bicep flexes as she wields that knife she loves so much. God, she’s a marvel.

Tragically, Agatha has tasks at hand that aren’t ogling the beautiful creature she is going to defile later tonight. Rio runs the puzzle pieces up to Agatha and Nick and then it’s go time.

The goal is to try to spell out a phrase with the pieces, which are a variety of shapes and sizes. Agatha’s eyes immediately go to which pieces have clear letters on them, which words can be obviously formed from them.

“Eat,” Nick says to her right. He’s clearly doing the same as her, having already found two pieces that spell the word eat, placing them on the table.

Not bad, Agatha has to admit. Maybe the kid’s not going completely to drag her down.

“There’s a GHT here too,” Agatha says, placing the letters on the board. “Night, fight, might, could be one of those.”

“Nice,” Nick says, “I’ll look for vowels.”

So Nick looks for vowels while Agatha singles out the other letters, placing them in a pile. She glances over at the other team that has barely started. Chumps.

“There’s an OOD,” Nick is muttering. “Food?”

“There’s no F,” Agatha says. “Try G.”

“Right,” Nick says. “Eat good?”

“It’s an ING,” Agatha says, eying Nick’s vowels, “eating Good.”

“Amazing,” Nick says, grinning. “Damn, you’re good at this.”

“Tell me something I don’t know,” Agatha says, but she can’t help grinning too. Everyone else on this season has eyed her up with something like suspicion, but this kid is looking at her with nothing but awe and camaraderie. It’s stupid of him, but Agatha finds she doesn't hate it.

“Tonight,” he’s saying, looking back. “Eating good tonight.”

“We are,” Agatha says, arranging the five final letters, giddy. “That’s the rest of it.”

“Oh, hell yeah,” Nick says, hands quickly moving to fill the rest of the puzzle, as Agatha lines up the letters.

He doesn't take her pieces, doesn’t aggressively go so fast he ruins it, just works around her seamlessly until—

“Jeff!” Nick calls. “We’ve got it.”

“Agatha and Nick think they have it,” Jeff says as he jogs over. “It would be a quick finish if they do and”—he reads off the puzzle—“We are eating good tonight! That is correct! Sakaar wins reward!”

“Yes!” Nick calls childishly, pumping a fist and then holding up a hand for Agatha to high-five. Agatha can’t remember the last time she has done something so juvenile as a high five, but her hand, almost of its we own accord, meets Nick’s in the air. “You rocked it!”

“Always do,” Agatha says, grinning. “And hey, you weren’t terrible yourself.”

He smiles at her, again with no wariness, no caution. Just an excited kid.

Oh, this game is going to ruin him.

Day 11

“My son was telling me that this beach on Fiji is where they’re going to film all the themed seasons from now on,” Wanda is saying.

If Agatha has learned anything in the last 24 hours of being on a tribe with Wanda is that this bitch won’t shut up about her damn kids.

“That’s so interesting,” Agatha says, shoving rice into her mouth. “Gay son or straight son?”

Rio, eating rice at Agatha's side, snickers a little. At least someone appreciates Agatha’s humor.

“Like, I said, they’re 13,” Wanda says. She eyes the constant cameras. “Not that I wouldn’t—I love my sons, no matter what. Whatever they, um, whoever they love, is definitely…” One of Agatha’s favorite activities in the world is to fluster straight people, and this woman is so damn easy. “I mean, what kind of mother wouldn’t, you know?”

“Oh, you’d be surprised.”

Agatha is shocked the words aren’t coming out of her own mouth, but it’s young, sweet Nick that said it, not even looking at Wanda, but down at his rice. In the 24 hours Agatha has known him, Nick has had a constant grin on his face, displaying his slightly too far apart teeth. But he’s very much not smiling right now, looking down grimly with a mix of embarrassment and old resentment.

And oh, Agatha knows that look. She recognizes it from the mirror when she was Nick’s tender age, when the pain was still raw. She remembers that first year on her own in Boston, when people would bring up their mothers in casual conversation and Agatha couldn’t look them in the eye, only stew in jealousy of how lucky they were to have the unconditional love that all children allegedly are promised by the one who birthed them.

It’s dulled over the years, but never fully disappeared, always flaring up in those moments she has to interact with said hag who birthed her. But time has helped. Time and Rio Vidal sitting in a Ford F-150 outside of a Dunkin’ Donuts, earnestly making a promise to poison Agatha’s mother.

Rio who, right now, lifts a hand to the small of Agatha’s back, a type of comfort that is so innate to Rio. Nothing too bold, no sweet words or false promises, just a simple touch of I’m here.

Agatha looks across the fire to Nick, still casting his eyes downward. Agatha wonders if he has anyone to press a hand to his back when things get too dark.

“I’m gonna go for a swim,” he announces abruptly. “Thanks for the rice.”

Then he’s off down the beach.

“Was it something I said?” Wanda asks.

“Probably,” Agatha says. Rio nudges her. “Kidding! You know how teen boys are. Hormones. Frontal lobe still doing its thing.” Agatha stands up, stretches. “Well, this has been a lovely dinner.” She pats her stomach. “Gotta walk off all this rice.”

Rio shoots Agatha a look of you good?

Agatha nods. She’s good. She can't say the same for the boy, though.

Agatha isn’t sure what exactly compels her to get up and follow Nick down the beach, but here she is, her own footprints joining his in the sand.

She remembers some inane bible story her mom’s group used to share about two sets of footprints in the sand when God walked besides you during good times, but only one set when God was carrying you during hard times. Agatha once made a joke that God should maybe spend less time on the beach and more time in war zones, but Evanora wasn’t too fond of that one.

Nick’s footprints lead Agatha around the bend from their camp, to an outcropping of rock that is far enough away that no one can spot them. Agatha climbs up on the rocks to see that they have created a cove of sorts, a swimming hole of calm water amidst the choppy ocean.

This is only Agatha’s second day at this new beach; it was New Blood’s before. She wonders how many times Nick has come out here to be alone, why such a cheery and excitable guy would need a place to escape the company of others.

He’s in the water now, swimming back and forth in the cove. Agatha stands on the rocks and watches him for a few seconds, before realizing how fucking weird she looks. Why did she come out here anyway? The kid clearly wants to be by himself. And what is she going to do, provide platitudes to comfort a stranger? That’s not exactly her forte. So what if Nick accidentally projected his mommy issues to the whole camp? Agatha has met plenty of people with mommy issues in her day, and none of them inspired her to vaguely stalk someone. God, who does she think she is, the mommy-issues-whisperer? Fuck that.

She turns on her heel to leave the poor kid the hell alone when—

“Agatha!”

Shit. Agatha turns to see Nick pulling himself out of the water, shaking his shaggy hair like a dog.

“Hey,” Agatha says lamely. “Just scouting out for good hiding spots. This one might make the shortlist, but I’m still partial to that big hollowed out tree trunk in the jungle.”

Nick chuckles, using his t-shirt to towel off his hair. He’s one of the only guys on this show who doesn’t insist on being shirtless around camp and in the challenges, and he has the farmer’s tan to prove it.

“Oh,” he says, smile back on his face, “so you aren’t here because I freaked out at camp at the even the idea of a supportive mother?”

“Oh that?” Agatha says, waving a hand. “That shit’s none of my business.”

Nick laughs a little. He squeezes his t-shirt out, before putting it back on. In the brief second before he does, Agatha’s eyes fall to his chest, to the faint scar lines there. Just like the puzzles they’re both so good at, the pieces connect. She quickly looks back up into Nick’s face. He’s still smiling, but he catches her eye purposefully, knowingly, before looking away.

Nick settles on the rocks, letting the evening Fijian sun dry him off. He doesn’t tell Agatha to leave but he doesn’t ask her to stay. Agatha stands awkwardly for a few seconds, but eventually sits next to him. Not too close, but nearby.

She draws her knees up ot her chest, watches the beginnings of the sunset, the sky slowly turning from blue into pinks and oranges.

The blue is almost fully gone before Agatha finally speaks, trying to craft her words into something that maybe this kid would want to hear.

“My very first memory was of my mom yelling at me,” she says, staring out into the sun. “I was maybe two years old, and had broken into the cupboard where she kept the sweets. There was one of those child locks on it, but I had figured out how to break it. She found me covered in chocolate and screamed at me. She said I was too curious for my own good.

“She always says that. Too curious. She used to make me attend this horrendous bible group she hosted with her equally miserable friends, and I asked too many questions. Once I asked why Abraham killing his son was seen as a good thing and she made me sit outside in a New England winter, hoping to freeze the curiosity out of me. In high school, she found out I was sneaking around with Lisa Bronson after class, and she wouldn’t let me even talk to Lisa anymore. She said I was too curious for my own good, I wanted too much, I wanted to know things that girls like me weren’t meant to know.

“But after I left that fucking house, after I turned 18 and escaped by the skin of my teeth, I realized that curiousity is what kept me alive. When you figure out how things work, it’s easy to figure out how you can make them work to your advantage. There are a lot of shitty things about me, kid, but one of the best things about me is that I’m curious. And you”—Agatha finally turns to the boy, who is watching her with intense brown eyes—“you have it too, right? An urge to know. That’s why you’re so good at puzzles. That’s why know yourself, at what? Nineteen? Far before most people do. Don’t let anyone stop you from wanting to know more, from questioning the world, from being curious. They can never beat that out of us. No matter how hard they try.”

Nick is still looking at her, eyes so intense that Agatha wants to look away, but she doesn’t. She holds her chin up high and meets his gaze. His eyes have a thin sheen of unshed tears on them. He swallows.

“Yeah, my mom tried pretty hard,” he says, voice cracking. “I have two older brothers and ever since I was little, she kept talking about how thrilled she was to finally have a daughter. That it wasn’t just her and a house full of boys anymore. But then I started growing up, figuring out that maybe it was just her and a house full of boys. She kept—every time I tried to tell her, she would say that it’s just because of my dad and my brothers, that I just wasn’t in touch with my feminine side or whatever. She would put me in horrible dresses to go to horrible pageants and all that bullshit again and again like that would magically make me what she wanted. She kept trying and trying and trying to make me into her daughter, until one day my dad just told her to stop.”

Nick lets out a deep sigh, far too weary for a boy his age.

“You know how most kids blame themselves for their parents’ divorce? And then the parents say ‘oh no honey, it’s not your fault?’ Yeah, when my parents got divorced, it was a hundred perfect my fault, because my dad believed me and listened to me and took me to appointments and my mom was so angry at him for supporting me that their marriage fell apart. She hated me more than she loved him, I guess.”

He says it so matter-of-factly that something big and hot and angry flares in Agatha, flint striking a knife. Her hand flexes in her lap, desperate to either reach out to him or to reach across space and time to punch this woman in throat.

Nick puts his head in his hands. Groans. “Fuck! I didn’t come onto Survivor to trauma dump, I didn’t—there was just something about what Wanda said. ‘What kind of mother wouldn’t?’ Mine! It’s just—I know I’m still so fucking lucky. I know that so many trans kids don’t even have one parent who supports them, but hearing something like that just makes me feel so… Like, why couldn’t I get a mom like Wanda or… you or…”

“Me?” Agatha interrupts, laughing a little. “Listen, your mom seems like a bitch supreme, but you don’t have to say I would be a good mom.”

“What do you mean?” Nick asks, blinking innocently up at her. “You just gave that whole follow your curiosity speech, it was really beautiful. I would have—I would have loved something like that growing up. My dad… my dad is a great guy, the best, he saved my life, but he doesn't really know how to talk about it. It would have been nice to have someone around who is good with words like you, who wasn’t, you know, an English teacher or a therapist.”

And then, maybe because Agatha can’t bear another second of Nick’s earnestness, or his pain, or the shock still radiating through her that anyone would ever think that she would be a good parent, Agatha changes tactics, shifting her face into a pout.

“Do you want me to be your Survivor mommy?” she asks in a baby voice.

It does the trick. Nick cracks up, throwing his head back and laughing so hard that his unshed tears fall down his cheeks, to the stubble that is trying desperately to grow there.

“God, don’t ever say that again,” he says, wheezing.

Agatha grins. “Aw, does widdle Nicky not want a Survivor mommy?”

He chokes laughing. “Please, Agatha, I beg.”

She exaggeratedly frowns at him and he starts laughing again, unable to help himself. God, it feels good to make this sweet kid laugh after he’s been through so much. To be the person to make him smile.

“Oh my god,” Nick says, wiping his eyes. “I needed that.” He looks at her intensely again, even as he’s still smiling. “People out here are too harsh on you, you know. You really aren’t the villain they say you are.”

Agatha scoffs. “Please, Nicholas, I have a reputation to uphold.”

“I’m serious,” Nick says. “When I watched your season, I wasn’t struck by the idols and the blindsides and all that, I was struck by your loyalty.”

“What are you talking about?” Agatha says. “My whole thing was that I screwed everyone over. That’s how I got to the end.”

“Not everyone,” Nick says pointedly. “You never sent Rio home, even though there were a million times you could have. Watching you two play together was… I can’t believe I get to be on a season with both of you.”

Agatha swallows. So damn earnest.

“Yeah, well, she’s…. Rio’s something else. She’s not just some random Survivor player, she’s…” Agatha looks off into the sunset again. She can only afford to be genuine so many times in a few short minutes. And if she starts talking about Rio, she might never stop.

“Wow,” Nick says. Then with a devilish grin, he puts on his own baby voice and says, “can she be my Survivor Daddy?”

“Fuck off,” Agatha says, but it’s her turn to laugh now, out of control with it.

Nick catches her eyes and smiles, proud of himself for his dumb joke. A surge of affection hits Agatha in the chest, harder than the waves crashing on the rocks beneath them; a fondness for this kid who has been through more in less than two decades than most people have been through in their entire lives, but is still somehow laughing through it, full of an energy and joy and that Agatha was never able to conjure at his age.

It’s irrational, it’s stupid. She’s only known this kid for a day and they’re on Survivor for fuck’s sake, but somehow, sitting on these rocks, Agatha knows she will do whatever it takes so nothing bad will happen to him out here.

Day 12

“Look at this haul!” Nick says gleefully, dumping a bag of fish gracelessly into their camp.

Agatha looks up from her busy afternoon of gleefully doing nothing after they won the immunity challenge to see the only two people on this island she gives a shit about. 

“The kid’s a whiz,” Rio says from behind Nick. 

She’s all wet and salty from the ocean, sunlight highlighting the glow of her skin. Agatha looks away before she does something stupid.

“Rio’s amazing,” Nick says, with genuine awe. “Like, she can just catch them with her bare hands.”

“She is very good with her hands,” Agatha agrees. 

Rio laughs, shooting Agatha a pointed look before clapping Nick on the back. 

“Nah, you did most of it,” Rio says. “You should see this kid with a Hawaiian sling, he’s out of this world.”

Nick grins up at Rio like she’s the coolest person in the world. She probably is. She smiles back at him, both of them with little gaps in their teeth and salt in their hair. 

Once again, Agatha has to look away. 

“What do you think of Nick?” Agatha asks Rio later that night. 

They’re sitting in the hollowed out tree in the jungle, where Rio has laid palm fronds on the ground so it’s comfortable for them to stretch out on, to look at the stars, or fuck each other silly, depending on the mood.

“Nick?” Rio says, brow furrowing. “I like Nick.”

“I like Nick too,” Agatha says. She reaches up, smooths the lines from Rio’s forehead. “Why are you frowning?”

Rio leans into Agatha’s touch like she always does, like it’s instinct. 

“Because I don’t want to vote off Nick,” Rio says with a wry chuckle. 

“Me neither,” Agatha says, stomach clenching. 

“Well, you just said his name, so I figured…”

Agatha laughs, relieved. “I said his name because I like him, not because I want to vote him out.”

“Oh!” Rio says, clear surprise on her face. “Cool. I guess I’m just not used to you…”

“Enjoying the company of others?”

“Who aren’t me,” Rio says, laughing. “But Nick’s great, I get it.”

“What do you think—” God, Agatha’s throat is dry, her palms are sweaty, she can’t believe she’s actually nervous about this. How embarrassing. “What do you think about adding him to our alliance?”

There’s silence for a second, besides the chirping of the bugs.

“Wow,” Rio finally says. “Until the end?”

“I mean, if we can,” Agatha says quickly. Maybe if she talks fast enough, Rio won’t pick up on how much she cares. “I don’t know if they’ll do a top three or a top two this year, but it could be… I would. He’s been through so much, Rio, more than—I don’t want Survivor to be just one more thing that makes his life harder.”

Before Agatha even finishes her sentence, Rio’s hand is in hers, gently squeezing. 

“Okay,” Rio says softly. “I don’t… I think Nick is a great kid and I would genuinely love to bring him in and see how far we can take him, but our plan doesn’t exactly work with three people. We can adjust, but it might… I don’t want to promise him something we can’t deliver on.”

The plan they came up with back in Vermont is complex and layered, yet deceptively simple. It hinges on the merge, where Agatha will do something big and despicable at tribal and Rio will loudly and publicly turn on her, and join the other alliance. Then Rio will feed her information while also building a case with the others that if they take Agatha to the end, they will win. And once they get to the end, then comes the reveal. How the two of them have been in it together from the start: the alliance, the secrecy, the marriage. No one can say no to voting for that. 

But that plan was concocted for only two people. 

“We can adjust!” Agatha says, to convince herself just as much as Rio.

“Of course,” Rio says gently. “But if people find out he’s allies with us, with you, they might try to vote him out down the line. Someone as likable as him will definitely get a target on his back.”

“We’ll protect him,” Agatha says simply. 

“It might not be that—”

“Rio.” Agatha places her hands on either side of Rio’s face. “Do you want to bring him in or not?”

Rio takes a deep breath in. She’s beautiful everywhere, but she’s maybe the most out beautiful out here, skin vibrant from the sun and saltwater, eyes brought alive by the jungle. 

“Yeah,” Rio says softly. “Let’s bring him in. Even if it won’t—”

Agatha leans forward and kisses her. In their tree trunk in Fiji with no one else, Agatha kisses her wife senseless, mostly because she wants to, mostly because she loves her. 

But a little bit so she won’t finish her sentence.