(It’s getting cold.)
He knew that. She knew he knew. They also both knew that she only said it because she wanted him to shut the door and come inside.
It was only a few hours ago he thought he could get used to this, but now he was about ready to blow his brains out. A man needed privacy. Autonomy. Independence! This was like a marriage from hell. He didn’t know how Ann and Milo could stand it.
He didn’t know how Mordecai didn’t run in there and strangle her to death during those rare instances he remembered her. Not that the man was strong enough to take two steps in that direction without her turning him into a sock puppet, but he never even tried!
He knew she could see him thinking that and he was sorry, but it didn’t seem to bother her. That made him a lot less sorry.
(Please, Barnaby?)
I’m stubborn, Miss 101. You know that too. This is the last we have and I am trying so hard not to hate it.
(The snow is pretty.)
Yes.
It was pretty in the abstract sense, but when he tried to look at it, he kept getting little flashes. Unwanted information. Not big fluffy flakes like shed angel feathers against the night sky, but puzzle pieces for some stupid image he didn’t care to assemble. They were piling up in drifts, she was too tired to clear them away. To be fair, he’d been making her shovel his shit all day.
While he shovelled everyone else’s.
He reached out a hand and caught a flake on his fingertips. It lasted only an instant before dripping away. Some things couldn’t be held.
Fractals, Miss 101. We don’t know what they are yet, but they’ve been here since before people and they’ll be here after. We’ll get them eventually. We want to understand. We’re all trying so damn hard to understand, even when it hurts and we’re tired.
It was not yet dawn and the household was sleeping, exhausted. He thought they would be all right to look after themselves in the morning. In any case, Calliope’s family would notice Euterpe has scrawled “BARNABY PROMISES THERE’S STILL ROOM IN HELL” on the wall and send someone to help. Probably Ocelot, he seemed the least damaged, physically speaking.
It was quite amusing to see him and Hyacinth dealing with the mess, and crashing into each other when they tried to put together canned soup from the case of it in the pantry. Simple things were a lot harder while tired and sore, and while having to wrangle a screaming, hysterical old man in the attic.
He was that screaming, hysterical old man, so he had to get his amusement in now. While he could.
Not really looking forward to it. Might you teleport me from here to the end, Miss 101?
(I can only make you forget after you’ve been through it. I can’t really steal time. I’m sorry, Barnaby.)
The mage lights were on in the kitchen, at full strength. Neither of them was good enough at magic to dim them. They’d go out when he stopped moving around. He’d sleep as well as possible, before knowledge murdered sleep.
The doctor bag was on the kitchen table. He clicked it open. The bottle was right on top; he’d known what he was going to do, he just didn’t want to get mixed up and dose one of the kids. The label said CHLORAL HYDRATE in Hyacinth’s smudged printing. He’d get better care if she got as much rest as she could. He had enough sanity left to mix himself a drink. Miss 101 could hold him together until he fell asleep.
He considered the discount liquor available to him and went with a glass of ginger ale instead. He didn’t want to throw up. Gods, no.
He counted the drops carefully. Just enough to sleep, Miss 101. I won’t make you live through another person dying inside your mind. My gods, I wish I had some distance from you, but I know what it will do to me.
(Sometimes I wonder if I could lose myself. Like Erik, when he thought he was David, except a real person. A living person. It’s harder to find me when I stay for a long time like this. I wonder if I could just… let go. Not be me any more. I could be someone who gets to go outside whenever they want. And maybe their family’s still alive. And my body would die and it wouldn’t matter.)
“Don’t, Miss 101,” he muttered. “I know it hurts, but please be you. You’re a good person, and we need you. Even if we can’t know it. All right?”
(I will be. It’s all right. I’ll stay until you’re sleeping. I mean, I won’t go. I’ll be here. I couldn’t leave… Well, you know.)
I know what you know and I know what you mean. He laughed weakly. He’d finished his ginger ale, and he put his head on the table, to rest. It’s all right. When I wake up they’ll think I burnt out the last ember of my sanity helping them and I must secretly be a wonderful person, and they’ll have no idea you half-killed yourself helping me?
(Yep.)
Yay.
(Bonne nuit, Barnaby.)
◈◈◈
She stayed until he was out, then she fell back into her own body on the bed. She groaned and flexed her fingers, though that wasn’t what hurt. She’d been holding him together for almost eighteen hours. She had pins and needles in her brain.
She wasn’t done yet. She had to dance the blood back into her numb extremities so she could finish. Once she could feel again, she had to pickpocket the memories from everyone else in the house.
She had been sloppy. It was hard to clean them up properly when she was busy with Barnaby. Her existence would’ve worked its way into long-term storage in countless places, and her housemates might have already begun finding the things she’d hidden. Tidying everyone now would prevent an even bigger mess, and it would keep them from bursting in on her and pelting her with questions later. She was so tired already, she just wanted to sleep.
No, Diane. She used his voice for being stern with herself — it was a habit she couldn’t break.
Didn’t want to break. Sometimes it was almost like having company.
Just push a little bit longer. I know you can do this. Then we can sleep. I’ll stay with you.
She snorted. Ha. Yeah. You will. Dumb fakey voice. Morph de merde. Casse-toi, eh?
That would really hurt my pwecious feewings. I’d make you talk to me for hours, just to end up back where we started.
Yeah. Good thing you’re not really here.
You don’t mean that.
Gods, shut up. I’m not making an Ann. My brain’s not weird enough to make an Ann. I’m too tired to make an Ann. You’re a shitty Ann, me. Ann de merde. I’m just so freaking tired. Ugh! She cupped her hands over her eyes and set her elbows in her lap, propping up her heavy head. Get real. Focus. Later I can have as many personalities as I want.
You can do this, Diane.
Yeah.
◈◈◈
Hilariously enough, she had to go to Ann and Milo first. They’d be the hardest. She’d save the easy ones for the end, when she’d be even more tired. They thought of their conjoined mind like a little house they were sharing, so that was how she tended to see it, but they’d built themselves a regular little fortress in there. Not only could they move around and block her, they’d created whole functional structures. They were practised. This level of focus was how they existed every day. Even when they were off, they were on.
She knew all this and approached carefully. If Ann tried to hurt her this time, she’d wake up on the floor again with everyone poking at her. She had nothing left.
The cozy little house in the woods had a welcome mat on the doorstep and a rainbow bunch of balloons with stars on them tied to the porch light.
She drew back. It had to be a trap. A distraction, so they could tackle her from…
“It’s her! It’s her!” someone said inside. Twin faces appeared in the window, smiling. The door popped open.
Instead of blowing her away the instant she set a foot on the steps, Ann was beckoning her inside. “It’s all right! We’ve been expecting you!”
Milo peeked out from the doorway. He pushed up his glasses and waved. “Hi. I can’t come out. Maybe if you helped me, but it’s really hard for me to figure out how this works. It’s not Erik’s fault, but he doesn’t know what he’s doing and he always makes a mess. Well, I don’t mean always — I helped make a mess, I don’t know what I’m doing either. Matches and gasoline! Oh, but you can come in. You won’t hurt us. You’re like the fire department! If, like, they were the boss of fires instead of just putting them out. You know?”
She laughed, weakly, in spite of herself. “Motormouth. Only Calliope and I know you’re a motormouth. She figured it out before you even did that thing with the radio, I have no idea how…” When she put her foot on the lowest stair, both Ann and Milo reached down a hand to help her up.
Milo beamed at her. “Really? Aw, she’s so smart, of course she knew. I’m going to learn how to sign and then Lucy will know too! Please sit down. I’m not sure how time works here, but you look really awful and you need a break.” He shut the door politely behind her, and the sensation of lying on the bed vanished.
She looked down at herself. She was wearing her gold gown, which was her favourite, but it was stained and in tatters. “Gods, I’m sorry. This is my favourite dress, but it doesn’t look like this. I’m just tired. I wore this the night Jake and I married Estelle.” She laughed. “He married her, but we played her our song and she liked it, so we said she could stay. They’re dead now.”
She was crying. She didn’t even know how she’d gone from laughing to crying. Bawling.
They sat her on a sofa with a blanket — a two-seater, of course. Milo poured tea for her while Ann sat beside her, held her hand and stroked her back.
It wasn’t real, it was all just electricity and chemicals. But, as she liked to comfort Morph whenever she was playing with him, everything was electricity and chemicals. Memory. Reality. Sensation. It all lived in the mind. This wasn’t any less real than anything else, it was different-real.
Half the time, they’d get into an argument about what chemicals she was producing when she produced chemicals in other people — he always wanted to label everything and talk about it, and he wanted to be special. He could never decide how, the frustrating little twerp, but he demanded some kind of special.
He didn’t like to hear that everyone was special, even if it was true.
Milo handed her a warm porcelain teacup and it blew her mind so hard she stopped crying. They had a working tea set in here. And tea! It smelled like Earl or Lady Gray, but she supposed it would make sense if it were both at once. “Thank you,” she said softly, and drank. It didn’t have to be real tea, they were giving her comfort-chemicals. It was good. “Why are you being so nice to me?”
Ann squeezed her and drew a sharp breath as if bracing herself. She smiled, but painfully. “I’m really sorry. We’re really sorry. I knew he shouldn’t, but we’re sick and I don’t have much willpower right now. Especially if it’s something that makes Milo happy.” He was grinning, proud of himself. Ann regarded it with an indulgent sigh. “He pulled all the good memories out of our secret room. They’re all over the house. He… Well, we both think you’re wonderful, dear, but Milo…”
“I love you, Grandma!” Milo cried. All at once he was ten years old again, wearing the floppy white nightshirt from the infirmary. He flung both arms around her and hugged her.
She hugged back, laughing. “Baby, I love you too. So much. But I’m only a little older than your dad. Do you know that?”
“I don’t care! We visit your house and get candy! You’re Grandma!”
“It’s insulting, Milo,” Ann said gently. She was used to being the adult, but they traded back and forth all the time. It was effortless. “Ladies don’t like to be called Grandma, especially when they’re not.”
Diane put up a hand. “It’s all right, Ann.” She grinned and shook her head. “I feel a bit silly, but I don’t mind at all.” She pushed Milo back gently, so she could look at him, and smoothed back his hair. “I wish so much that I could give you advice like a grandma and you could keep it. Annie’s going to have to let you grow up a little bit for Lucy and Calliope. You know that, right?”
He nodded. “She wants me to. I’m letting her help me.”
“That’s good. You’re both very brave, and smart.” She snickered. “Sometimes more brave than smart. I love the way you are. I hope you don’t grow up too much. If you split it between you, that ought to be just about right.”
Ann put an arm around her. “Maybe we can have your advice someday, Deedee. Don’t act like it won’t ever happen. We’ll save it with the rest, okay?”
Diane nodded carefully. “You know we have to put it away. Will you help me? Thank you for the tea, but I have a lot to do and I’m still really tired.”
“I’ll help you, but Milo won’t,” Ann said softly. “He knows, he understands, but he won’t. Is that okay?”
Diane smiled and took her hand. “I thought you were going to be mad at me and scared the whole time. It’s more than okay. Thank you both so much.”
Milo frowned. He had grown up again to be serious. “If my brain worked right we could fix this. I just want ginger ale and sleep right now, but I am smart. Like, in general. On average. We can fix this. I just can’t right now, and I know you’re scared. I don’t like it, but you don’t have to be scared. I just won’t help you take away all my nice things that I love.”
“Thank you, Milo,” Diane said.
He nodded and wandered away from them, refusing to look.
Ann knew where everything was. Diane just had to be the one to put it away. They left the door open while they cleaned, so Ann and Milo could still remember who she was and what she was doing, but it would be harder and harder to recall the details. Ann got less and less cheerful and friendly, but Milo didn’t get shy and scared of her like usual. He curled up on the sofa with the blanket, apathetic and resigned.
At first she thought the fever had taken the starch out of him, but by the end she knew. She touched his shoulder reluctantly. The only thing left was the one Ann had, about why they needed to forget her to be safe. That one had to be the last to go, it always was.
It was the only other thing left.
“Milo, sweetheart, please don’t make me take that from you,” she said softly. “I don’t want to hurt you by taking it. Please, can I just have it?”
He was clutching a foil-wrapped mint in his hand, under the blanket, against his chest. If he kept that, he could find the secret room and take out as many memories as he wanted. It wasn’t a cute little souvenir, it was a key. She couldn’t let him have it.
“Milo, you have to give it back so we can be done,” Ann said sternly. “She is a nice person, but the people who want her dead don’t care about that. These things could get us all killed — not just you and me, everyone you love. This is not safe. We need to be done.”
“I won’t remember you’re nice and I won’t come visit and have candy,” Milo said. He began to spill tears. “I’ll be scared of you. That isn’t who I am, and that isn’t who I want to be. I could grow up so much better with a grandma. Don’t take that away.”
She put her hands on his shoulders. “Baby, these things will be forgotten, but they’re not gone. You’ve found them before, and you’ll find them again. When it’s safe to keep them, they’ll be right here.”
He sobbed. “I’m not stupid. You don’t think that’s going to happen until you’re dead for real! I won’t even get to say goodbye…”
She shook her head. “You are sick and you’re tired. I’m tired too. I can’t rest until you’re safe. Please, please let me put these things away for right now, and let later be later.”
“Milo, this is about survival,” Ann said. “Candy and hugs are extra. Calliope and Lucy need this from you.”
He gave up the mint. “Will you give me more time next time? Us more time? Mom and Dad are really smart too. Will you please give us a chance to figure this out?”
She smiled for him. “I’ll try, Milo.” She put the memory away.
He cringed from her. “You shouldn’t be here.” He scurried into a closet and peeked out, hands shaking and eyes wide.
Ann handed her the last one, a postcard picture stamped and received years ago, of her explaining the political situation on an endless loop to a nineteen-year-old kid who had somehow missed why they were having a war, even after living through the worst part of it. The important bit was highlighted on the back in his/her handwriting, red ink, all caps and underlined: FIND OUT, ALL DIE!!
“Put it away and get out.”
“Thank you, Miss Rose.”
When she shut the door, the secret room and the cozy little house in the woods vanished into the yellowish darkness of closed eyes.
She put her face in her hands and felt tears. Well, she knew it would be hard, just not like that.
◈◈◈
Calliope had heard Ann crying in her sleep, so Calliope was next, regardless of difficulty.
On the surface she looked deceptively normal. She wasn’t organized. Most people didn’t expect company, let alone have roommates. Their minds were dark stages where they put on fleeting plays for themselves, on whatever subject was needful. With little judgment or control.
Calliope was a little more visual, and a lot more avant-garde. Diane suspected it wasn’t just a difference of taste and experience, but something in the processing behind the scenes. She was like Ann and Milo that way.
Right now, she was tired and worried. Everything except the body in the bed beside her was in soft focus. She was remembering he had nightmares sometimes.
“Milo? It’s okay…”
(Please don’t, Calliope. They’re not having a bad dream. It was me.)
She blinked and sat up, which turned on the kitchen lights. “Hello?”
(Oh, goddammit, I’m too tired to think straight! I’m blundering around like a goddamn drunk elephant! I’m going to…)
Calliope lowered her voice and turned her head against her pillow. She didn’t want to wake everyone up, thank gods. “Barnaby was talking to you, huh? You’re Miss 101. You seem nice. Thanks for helping. Are you a ghost?”
A stereotypical bedsheet ghost on a black background. Woo.
(No, sweetheart. I’m a very tired woman, but it’s not safe for any of you to know who I am. I have to take your memories of me away. I’m sorry. I’m not really asking permission. I can’t. But may I?)
“Could you make me remember something weird instead? Like aliens?”
Purple aliens with antennae and hose noses, in sparkly silver uniforms. Fred likes aliens, too, he’s purple. Is that racist? Rayguns. No, not a ray, those negative-scratch-looking light blasts that went vip-vip-vip. Like corduroy pants! How come we never put aliens in corduroy pants? That lamé stuff can’t be very comfy. To drive in. Spaceship with a steering wheel like a car. Space-driving. Alien with comfy clothes and leather gloves for…
(No. No. I’m sorry, Calliope. I can’t. It wouldn’t make sense to you. You would start thinking about it and take it apart right away, and you’d find me hiding behind it.) That was an oversimplification, dreams gave her a lot of leeway, but she didn’t want to talk to Calliope now. She had a lot of mess to clean up.
“It’s okay. I got a million questions, but I’m tired too.”
She also didn’t mean to say all of that. (Sorry.)
“It’s okay. I’ll let you go.”
Like on the telephone. Click.
Calliope decided she didn’t want to wake Milo — or whichever it was, you couldn’t tell with the nightie and no eyes. She draped a careful arm over the figure in the bed and went back to sleep.
Diane already knew, before she looked. That click hadn’t been a phone disconnecting, it was a gun cocking. Maggie and her mother slept light. They were sitting up, with magical artillery and a set of invisible spiked parapets pointed in her direction.
(Goddammit.)
From the General: Don’t swear at my daughter.
From Maggie: Leave Calliope alone.
From both of them, almost in tandem: Pick on somebody your own size.
She sat down on the ground outside and pulled out a metaphorical white handkerchief. (I surrender! Truce! Uh, uh… Parsley! Parlez! Parsnips! Tin snips!) Each one of these random objects — including a little maid in a white apron for ‘parlez’ — materialized in her mind’s eye as she recalled them, and conked her in the head. (PARLAY!)
That got her a whole pirate ship with a peg-legged parrot going yarrr. She rattled her head trying to focus. The little maid squeaked, Sacré bleu! and scurried off, and the unwanted objects evaporated. In her immediate vision, there remained a military woman in a fantastic hat, pointing a rifle at her head. Focusing only made that one clearer.
You are not a uniformed combatant, how dare you…
(Please! If you shoot me, I will faint or die and endanger the whole house. I was a real soldier for a little while, a volunteer like your husband, and father. On the basis of the fact that you have both independently decided to let me live after every single one of our encounters, I am begging you to give me some time to explain. Please don’t make me come out there. You would understand right away why I need to stay hidden, but I’d have to clean everyone else up again and I do not have that in me.)
Maggie shook her head. She opened her eyes and then closed them to concentrate, pale. You’re Diane Desdoux. I brought you a muffin and you said we could split it. Prokovia only gets to be the boss of us because you’re dead, and your whole family’s dead, even Seth — except he’s not as important, so he just gets to be homeless and change his name. If they find out you’re not dead they’ll kill you again, and us too.
The half-muffin appeared in Diane’s hand. She goggled at it. It had chocolate chips. (Holy shit de… de merde! You found that fast! Yikes. I’m sorry for swearing. I’m sorry. I can’t. Uh. Brain extremely tired. No… No hocus-pocus. Focus! Okay?)
Maggie tugged on her mother’s arm, in the real world, outside of these weird, disjointed images she kept getting. “Mom, I think we gotta let her go.”
The General sighed. “I trust your judgment.”
“…the damn lights are malfunctioning,” she muttered, a moment later. She put them out, permanently. She could fix them to her standards later. “False alarm, Magnificent.”
Maggie grumbled. She’d decided that ages ago. “Night, Mom.”
“Goodnight.”
◈◈◈
“Coffee,” Diane whispered, back in her room, eyes closed, with her hand out. “Coffee. Come on. I want endorphins, let me have ‘em.” She couldn’t hold the image in her mind. Not that it would make any difference. “Fine. Endorphins de merde.”
◈◈◈
She tried not to wake Erik, she tried very hard. He had been through so much. In a perfect world, she would’ve gotten to him right after Ann and Milo, when she had more strength.
But he was strong, too, even sick and unconscious. He blocked her, like you might wave off a buzzing fly in your sleep — if you happened to be holding a sledgehammer.
But then he woke up and grabbed her.
It was like being held in the arms of a glowing star — a tiny star, but far too hot and bright. It blotted out all else. It burned.
(Ow! Ow! Ow-ow-ow…)
(I’m sorry! I thought I hit you and you were going to fall!)
(You’re not wrong about that, but I’m awake now. I’m awake. You knocked me out and knocked me back in. I got… I got that coffee I wanted. Wow. You can stop now.) She laughed weakly. (Can you stop now?)
(I’m trying! I know holding you and talking to you is different, but it’s like Hester said I couldn’t cut out a perfect heart because I need more motor skills. I’m hurting you. I feel it. I’m so sorry.)
(I am one big bruise right now, that is not your fault. Let go, hon. I can stand on my own.)
(No, it’s too hard. You’re hurt.)
She thought of a little green boy trying to pick up a butterfly with a broken wing. It was just too delicate for him to hold. He crushed it.
He gasped and let go. (I’m sorry. Are you gonna die?)
She retreated to a tolerable distance. The bright star hung in the darkness, cold. Afraid.
She remembered making Sprite feel that way, only his star had been even smaller. And after that, he decided to bury it in a box.
(No, honey. No, no-no. I didn’t mean it that way. I don’t have good control of myself right now either. I just need rest. I’m sorry.)
His voice was tiny and sad. (I know. I saw everything. It wasn’t on purpose. I shouldn’t have grabbed you, it was mean. It was a… a violation.)
She touched him carefully. (So you know I do stuff a lot meaner, and not even by accident like that.)
(I know you told me take the hinges off, but I wanted to kill the bad guy first. I convinced you.)
(I didn’t need much convincing. You also know I killed the bad guys who killed my family. And I’m still looking for the ones who ordered it, so I can kill them too.)
He was briefly diverted. (Then can you come out? I’ll help you kill them like you helped me!)
(No, honey. That wouldn’t be good for either of us.)
(Barnaby thinks I might grow up and murder the world.) He was almost teasing her, but trying to hide how serious he was with humour — he was doomed anyway so it didn’t matter, right? Ha, ha. At the same time, he’d half-sarcastically framed it as a reason she wouldn’t let him help. Was he too bad a person to go out and do a couple revenge murders with her? She must not like him since she found that out. She didn’t think he could handle a couple murders with losing it, huh?
She held out a hand, or what she thought was a hand, as if demanding he spit out the candy he’d tried to sneak before dinner. (You are going to give that back right now. I’m not even going to hide it, I’m taking it so you’ll never see it again. It’s hurtful and you don’t need to know it. Barnaby is a broken old man who sees things with no context and it may never happen, so give it back.)
He was examining it like a toddler with a bit of broken glass. (It’s the path. The bifurcated path. I’m afraid to say it out loud ’cos I’d probably sound stupid, but it means two. Barnaby’s seen it and I have, too, but we don’t know what it means. Something happens and everything is two. This is where half of it goes.) He clasped it tighter, she could feel it hurting him. (I don’t want to go there, Diane.)
(Then give it back, Erik. This is more of that causality bullshit. If you keep it, that might make it happen. You are going to have to trust me to keep you safe.)
(Do you promise you’ll stay until it doesn’t happen?) It was over ten years away. He hadn’t even been alive that long yet. (I-I mean, you don’t have to stay in the room. We’ll figure out how to get you out of the room, and you can be our grandma like Milo wants, okay?)
She still had her hand out. (I promise I’ll stay. I can’t promise the other thing. Don’t make me lie to get that away from you.)
He still hesitated, just a moment, then he let go and dropped it into her palm. The ray of light which had held and examined the painful memory was crumpled, and the whole star was dimmer. Wounded. She hid the knowledge behind her back, or what she felt was a back, and dropped it into a pocket that she also didn’t have. The crumpled ray of light regained its shape, but dim and flickering. He knew she had taken something, if not what.
(Diane? Is this a bad thing we can do? Or do they only give it to mean people?) He decided without waiting for her, (Nice people box it up like Seth.)
(No, honey. No, no. Seth is nice, but he put it in a box because I let him get scared. I don’t know if I could teach you any better, but it’s not safe for me to teach you at all.)
He brightened all over. (You could! And then hide it, so I can have it back when it’s safe for you to come out. I’d be really smart all at once, like those training montages in the movies! That’d be fun!)
She was more tired now than she’d ever been in her life. (I’m sorry, sweetheart. I won’t steal that much of your childhood waiting for a day that may never come. I love you. I want you to live.)
(I want you to live, too, Auntie Di.)
They both gasped and withdrew. They both were sorry. They approached each other again cautiously.
(I…)
(No, I know. And you know too. That’s how we are. I would be brave and let you call me that if it hurt even a little tiny bit less, Erik. I promise.)
They couldn’t hug. It would have been too much for both of them. They brushed like two old ladies giving each other an air kiss so they wouldn’t smudge their makeup, and both knew they wanted each other to be okay. That would have to be enough.
He blocked her again when she reached for the memories, but gently this time. (You’re really pretty, Diane. I won’t make you promise, but don’t hide forever, okay?)
She couldn’t help herself, (How do you see me, Erik?)
(A big gold star. You’re humongous. But you’re all fuzzy, I can tell you’re tired.)
(You look like a pretty star to me too. Maybe it doesn’t matter, but I don’t think I’d see you that way if this thing we can do is bad. It’s just special. Special doesn’t have to be bad, you know?)
He snickered. (Don’t worry. I won’t forget that. I already knew it.)
This time when she reached in, he took her hand and helped her. He helped her as long as he could.
◈◈◈
(I’m sorry, Hyacinth. I can’t stealth right now, so there’s no point in trying. Can I erase your memories?)
Hyacinth sat up in the darkness. “Huh? What? All of them?”
(No. Just the ones with me in them. Please don’t talk out loud, you’ll wake the others.)
Are they okay? She was glancing around, confirming it herself.
(Pretty much. They need sleep most of all, even Barnaby.)
Where’s the baby?
(In Room 103, in the playpen. I know she’s sleeping through the night most of the time now, but we gave her half an antihistamine and some chocolate milk to grease the skids. She’s had a rough day too.)
Secret gears turned, processing how the weird voice in her head knew about Lucy, and why it was trying to help. It stirred up the dust of a few hidden memories, even if she couldn’t quite lay a hand on them. You’re Room 101, aren’t you? Image of the door with the ghosts of the numbers in the paint, which she stared at with irritation.
(Yeah.)
Pisses me off when I can’t remember. Thought it was some goddamn spell on the door. You have a good reason?
(Yeah.)
All right. Screw it. Go ahead. I need sleep too.
She put the pillow over her head and rolled over.
◈◈◈
I knew I wasn’t hallucinating.
(I’m sorry, Morph.) She should have just finished and let him go back to sleep; he couldn’t stop her, she had to do it anyway. But he was fading into view, a dim shape in the darkness with its hand out to her. She let him.
He couldn’t learn how to block her or defend himself, but he wasn’t stupid. He just wasn’t strong. He had learned some things that she liked, practised until he got good at them. She’d done that too. That’s what being in a relationship meant, even a shitty facsimile of a relationship at a horrible time.
She liked to be able to see him when she was talking to him. And touch him. Even if they couldn’t be together for real. It was different-real.
He touched her shoulder. She looked down and saw she’d formed a body for herself again. Shoulders. Arms and legs. Tattered gold ball gown. She took a deep, shuddery breath. Lungs, she could feel her real body breathing. It was almost the same.
He looked a little younger. He seemed to do that instinctively. She didn’t think it was vanity, or not just vanity. He kept it proportionate, over the years. It was like he thought she might prefer him a little neater, so he ironed out some of the wrinkles.
“So it was…”
She laughed weakly, already nodding. “Me the whole time. Yeah. Here I am. ‘Goddammit, Diane.’”
He frowned. “I really hate when you do that. It’s not my fault I can’t remember and you can. You’ve been raping my mind for almost seven years now, do you have to tease me about it too?”
“I’m sorry.” She choked and began to cry again.
He realized right away she needed care and not cutting remarks. He flipped like a pancake; he was done on that side. Now it was all softness and concern. He was good about that.
He wrapped both arms around her and cradled her head against his shoulder. Close. Warm. But she couldn’t hear his heart or breathing like when they were really close. She couldn’t smell that stuff he put in his hair. This reality was filtered, some things were purer, but not everything got through.
“Oh, oh, oh,” he said. Thought. Whatever it was. “It’s all right. I know how it must be. I’m not my best self right now, but I’m not really mad. Not like that. You let me remember long enough to make my peace with it this time, I’m past dropping your dishes and screaming and I’m past being mad. I’m sorry, Diane. I… I’ve been scared all day. Erik was hurt, I couldn’t help him, and I didn’t know if I was finding things you hid or going crazy from the fever. I’m mad at all that, but not you. Not you. I don’t handle being sick well in the first place, it’s…”
“You don’t handle being violated well,” she said, muffled. He was there enough to do that. “Why should you?”
“Because when you love someone, you trust that even when they hurt you, they mean well. Abusers take advantage of that. I have.” He pulled her back gently, but he kept his hands on her shoulders. “But you never do.”
“You…” She was going to say he had no way of knowing that was true. But when she lifted her head, she saw he’d put the stars in the sky.
He said, There’s a meteor shower tonight, do you want to come watch it with me?
She said, It’s not that I doubt you, I just wonder why you have this information in your brain. Is it a long story, like why you know how to shoot? Will there be politics in it?
Nah. I just remember this one. I was crazy for stars and planets as a kid, and the city was a lot dimmer then. We’d get an almanac every year, I used to watch all of ‘em. Cheaper than the movies, I guess.
Free wishes.
Yeah. Weather-wise, I think the Medusids are the best, not too cold or buggy or cloudy, so they’re the only ones I bother to look up anymore. I had them on my calendar. At my home. Which Alba convinced me to abandon. But you know that story, and the politics.
I do. I guess I will come with you. At least I can make sure you don’t get shot.
I know how to shoot and you don’t, Prime Minister.
Well, I don’t need to know how to shoot, terrorist.
He bowed. Reformed.
They watched two younger, dumber versions of themselves, lying on top of a faux-medieval wall during a siege, with the city variously on fire and broken beneath them. It was just before dawn, no attack in sight; the desolation was quiet. They held hands and rested their heads on a rolled military-issue blanket, which they’d found in a corner, covered in rubble and dust.
They could only see the stars. A world of stars.
They made free wishes that they didn’t really believe would come true — but wanted just the same — and teased each other. They both thought they were so cynical and smart. They both thought whatever they had at the moment would end when the war did, even if they both lived. For various petty reasons to do with class and politics, or even the fundamentals of fidelity and sex.
Never that she’d be trapped in a room and wiping herself out of his memory again and again because if she didn’t they both might die. That didn’t seem like an option.
And yet here they were, together in spite of it all.
She put up her hand like a sock puppet and moved its mouth over her illusory double’s head, giving herself a squeaky voice, “‘He’ll find some normal girl who can give him that pwecious ‘commitment’ he’s after, even if he has no idea what that word means when applied to a tentacle monster who will never, ever believe fooling around in a sweaty bed is a level above holding hands and sharing your deepest dreams in a world of stars.’”
He made a puppet for himself and said, “‘She’s too rich and conservative for an ex-terrorist who tried to give everyone a free bicycle before he could even figure out how to keep the roads repaired; we’d be screaming at each other over the dinner table about poor people and taxes within a week. She doesn’t need a man, she’s probably gonna transcend humanity and become an abstract concept or some damn thing.’”
She’d broken down cackling. She had to sit on the floor. The floor of stars. “‘Some damn thing’! Yeah, I guess I did, didn’t I? I really did!”
He sat next to her and held her. “You know, I didn’t want any damn commitment until I met you. You made me jealous. This is your fault for being amazing.”
“It is,” she said, smiling. “My fault. All my fault. This is all my fault!” She broke down, shuddering and groaning like a bridge about to collapse. No words. She didn’t even sound human.
He gathered her up and held her, ragged gown and all. He rocked with her. “Shh, Diane. Just rest. You’re safe here. They’re all asleep and we have time. It’s okay.”
“Can’t.” She was shaking. She didn’t want to look up at him. “I’m not done yet.”
“We have time, we have time,” he said gently. He gave her tissues out of his pocket — not tissues, not a pocket. Comfort. “Sleep with me. You can get me in the morning.”
She shook her head.
“No, I don’t mean that.” He laughed weakly and touched a hand to his head. “Hyacinth said you might’ve been trying to spare my feelings. She was just trying to annoy me and she nailed me in a bruise she didn’t even know I had, isn’t that hilarious?”
She put her arms around him, “I’m not laughing.” He’d brought it up when he discovered her before the art show too. He liked to hide painful things behind humour, like Erik. “I know it bothers you…”
He hugged her. “No. I’m just tired and punchy. We don’t have to hash over all that again, not now. We’ll do whatever you want. What about Havredete? Is that too provincial? I have an October 1377 Havredete right here.” He tapped his temple with a finger. “It’s still really vivid. We can go to Havredete and eat fudge. Or wherever you want. We can talk, or we don’t have to do that. I’ll be a pegasus or something silly that doesn’t talk at all, if you want.”
He was trying to smile, but it didn’t look right. There were cracks around the edges. Gods help her, he looked like Sprite trying to convince them that he wasn’t feeling too sick and he was still okay to help out. “I know you’re hurt and you don’t have to go someplace I can’t help you to keep me safe. Please just stay.”
“I-I can’t. Ocelot is going to be here first thing in the morning and you can’t remember me when you wake up.”
“What?” He laid his hand across her brow, as if he might be able to tell a fever that way.
She brushed him away. “I don’t want to play. I’m tired and punchy, too, that’s all. I mean Calliope’s brother. Oz. He’s going to come help, or one of them will. Barnaby saw it, so it’s all probabilities. If I fall asleep before I take everything away from you, they’ll wake you up and you’ll remember. Calliope is difficult and Euterpe is difficult and I need to duck anyone coming from her family if I can, or be in top shape if I can’t. I have to be gone from you before he gets here, and I have to rest. I’m sorry.”
He shook his head. He was holding both her hands and he wouldn’t let go. “No, come on. You’re not going to go because Barnaby saw some stupid thing. Barnaby is a nut!”
“I was holding him together all day, he’s accurate when he’s not getting too much information. It’s going to happen.”
“All day?” His expression fell. He turned his head aside and let go of her hands, but it wasn’t like she couldn’t see. “Do you ever do that for me?”
She groaned. “Please, please, please tell me we’re not going to have another one of those arguments about what I do for other people. I do not love Barnaby like I love you. I do not love anyone like I love you. Nobody else gives me the stars.” She hid her face in her hands, so she couldn’t even see them anymore. “Nobody else gives me our stars.”
“I’m sorry,” he said softly, looking down. “I didn’t want to do this. You don’t need this. I can’t say it doesn’t hurt because you know it does. I can’t be more mature about this because I never have enough time. You take all that away. I don’t like this. I know it doesn’t matter, but I don’t like that we’re just going to keep doing this. A relationship has to grow. This one can’t.”
She touched his cheek, brought his head up, and forced herself to look at him. “You wouldn’t even look at me when I came here. You were that mad at me when I came here. Since I’ve been here, you’ve forgiven me, and you started to love me again.” She laughed weakly. “You thinking I’m dead has been really good for us. You wouldn’t have put up with me otherwise.”
“I…” He shut his eyes. A moment later, he winced. “You were at the door crying and I just walked off on you. I let Hyacinth deal with it. I really did that. Oh, my gods. Your whole family had just died. I am a petty son of a bitch.”
She kissed his cheek. “That’s never been all you are.”
He pressed his hand there, then examined his fingers as if her touch might be visible. “I’ve been trying so hard to do better. I can’t be better, but do better. How much of me is you? How much of me is you nudging me not to be a total bastard or a depressive freak at just the right instant?”
“You are you,” she said. “Sometimes I do give you a nudge, I won’t lie. Sometimes you’re about to eat an apple and I get you to bake some cookies instead, I like cookies.” She smirked. “Everyone likes cookies. But I can’t do that when it really matters. When it’s scary and I think you might hurt yourself, I can’t make you stop.”
“Gods, I’m so sorry you have to see…”
She shook her head and put two fingers over his mouth, “I can’t get in there and stop you when you’re about to hurt someone else either. For all the important decisions, you are focused and moving too fast for me. And for all that little mundane stuff that I’d have to be on you about constantly to change even one thing about you… That’s like expecting me to paint a portrait by moving little bitty grains of sand with a teeny-tiny tweezers.” She pressed her thumb and forefinger together and squinted as if to see a microscopic thing. “I still don’t have the patience or the time. You’re doing all right on your own.” She snickered. “Better all the time.”
“Still angry,” he admitted. “You know, in general. Not young, but I can’t help that.”
“I can see how hard you’re trying,” she said. “Every day. My respect for you grows. We may not have a conventional relationship, but will you say we still have one?”
“Yes.” He hugged her. He didn’t let go. “I’m sorry. I just wanted more time. I wanted us to have more time. I don’t want to lose you again. But I’m selfish and I don’t want to lose me either. This version of me. I don’t want to go back to being the idiot who hasn’t figured it out yet. It’s like waiting to die. I’m scared of that, and I’m scared of this. You never give us enough time to figure out something better for you. You’re too scared to let us.
“This can’t be forever, Diane. Or… or one of these days I’m going to find you in there, dead, and all I’ll have is this headful of memories of me failing to help you. Or else you’re going to lose me.” He was crying. She could feel it. But she wasn’t sure if it was sobbing and tears or just pain. Just knowing. “I swear, this isn’t on purpose. I’m not trying to hurt you just because you hurt me. I… I…”
She held his head against hers and stroked his hair. “We’re both tired and we need to rest. Today has been so hard. I know it hurts that you can’t take my pain away, but I can take yours and I’m going to. Then we can both sleep, and we’ll feel better. Hyacinth will find me in here tomorrow, or maybe you will…”
“I don’t want to!”
“I don’t want you to, either. Shhh.” She just held him for a moment, then took a breath and began again, “I will get whatever medical care I need and you will all be very nice to me, because you always are. We will be okay, and that will have to be enough for right now.”
He tightened his embrace. It hurt, but everything hurt. “Please don’t go. I know you’re going to and I can’t stop you, but… Please stay until you have to go.” He laughed sickly. “It doesn’t make any sense.”
“No, it does.” She sat beside him with her arms around him, like they’d sat together when the sun was coming up after the meteor shower. There weren’t going to be any more stars, but they didn’t want to go back down and start another day of the siege. Not yet. “I’ll get the dumb stuff that doesn’t matter first.”
He sat beside her and held her while he lost her by inches. He kept saying, “I love you, I’m not mad anymore. I love you…” as if he might remember that way. Or maybe he just didn’t want her to forget.
Finally, he sat back and stared at her, confused. “Is this a dream?”
“Yes,” she replied.
He smiled at her. “Stay with me…?”
“I will.”
No more stars then, only darkness.
◈◈◈
“…love you, not mad, love you, not…”
“Uncle?” Erik sat up with difficulty. It was pale dawn in the kitchen and he was thirsty. The lights didn’t come on. He frowned at them, and then felt around in the blankets until he found his uncle — damp hair and a cold cheek. “You okay?”
“Huh?” Mordecai winced open his eyes, sat up, and regretted it. He leaned back on his elbow and hung his head. “Oh. Oh. I think I’m okay, but that was not smart.” He looked up, blinking until focus came. “Dear one, are you all right? Does it still hurt?”
Erik slowly shook his head. “Just really tired. Thirsty.”
Mordecai made a weak smile. “Hang on. If we are veeery lucky…” He felt around on the floor and eventually came up with a bottle of sparkling water. It even had a twist cap. They both drank. “Better?”
Erik nodded. “Did I do something wrong?”
“What? Of course not. Why?”
“You were talking. You said you weren’t mad.”
He shook his head. “I don’t even remember. Probably just had a weird dream. It’s all right, dear one. Let’s go back to sleep.” He lifted the blankets and opened his arms. Erik crawled close and curled up.
◈◈◈
Diane lay on the bed, staring at the ceiling, too tired to do anything but leak an endless stream of tears and snot into her pillow.
She wondered if she was a liar as well as a monster. Barnaby tried to give her stars. Barnaby and the kids. But she asked them to.
They had a file of stuff Barnaby had snipped out of the newspaper, and the kids had glue and crayons. They wanted to cover the wallpaper. So she asked them for everything with stars. They even left her scissors and construction paper so she could make more. She did. Might as well. And she still had the tin one she’d stolen from Erik’s Yule — the one they did special, in March. She got to hug Erik after she stole that star, but he couldn’t know. It dangled from the bedpost, gleaming in the faint light.
Stars, but not our stars. Different-stars.
Since she’d done that, he knew. Whenever he found her in her room, bringing a meal or just during a magic storm when she had no restraint and got impatient. When he got done flipping out all over the place, he saw the stars and he knew. Visual shorthand for: I have always loved you and I still do.
She probably shouldn’t have done that. It hurt a lot more that way.
But he’d given her the stars right away too. If it was a dumb thing to do, they were both dumb the same way, despite all their differences.
She didn’t have much left, not for crying or stars or consciousness. It was a mercy. Soon she slept. And when Oz banged on the kitchen door and Barnaby woke up and started screaming, she didn’t even stir.
Whoops. There’s a Spicy Extra for Consenting Adults!
Spider Dance
I felt bad Mordecai and Diane didn’t get to interact much here, so I penned a flashback. They’re being intimate with each other, so you shouldn’t click this link to download this extra unless you’re a legal adult or willing to lie to me!
