Chapter Text
“Scrooge! Wait!”
He couldn’t. He’d fled into his realm, bolted through the trees as far as his legs would take him, slammed the door to his cabin behind him, curled up on the floor in front of the fireplace. He couldn’t catch his breath. Even after the physical exhaustion subsided, he couldn’t get himself to just breathe. Everything was still wrong. It was as though his nerves had all grown outside of him. They protruded from his body, curling around him like so many thorns, making even the thought of touch repulsive to him. His shirt was too wrinkly. The floorboards pierced his skin. Even now, a phantom heart slammed against his ribs. Something about the temperature was off; he couldn’t tell if he was cold or hot, only that he was clammy. Even with all the curtains drawn— even under his realm’s perpetual evening sky— it was too damn bright. Residual spots danced in his vision, left over from an assault on his eyes. A thousand lights. Every color. All at once.
The streets had been cacophonous. A peaceful outing had turned into abject chaos before he’d had time to process it.
And he’d run away.
Before he could tell himself not to, Ebenezer broke down in tears. Everything ached. Inside, outside— it didn’t matter. All of it was tangled nerves and sensitive skin and a desperate desire to crawl out of and away from his own body. It was too much. The world was too much. He just needed it all to turn black, go quiet, stop moving, and it wouldn’t, it wouldn’t, it wouldn’t.
He was a child, the last time this happened to him.
He proceeded to weep like one.
Idiot, he thought viciously, wiping his eyes. The tears kept coming. His sleeves burned against his face, but he couldn’t stop himself. You’re no better than an infant. Look at you. You can hardly put up a fight. You’ve abandoned your team, like the coward you are, and now they hate you. All because — the nastiness in his head turned mocking— ‘This texture is bad!’ and ‘It’s too bright!’ and ‘Why is it so loud?’
Pathetic. Utterly disgraceful. No one thinks like this.
You make me sick.
The door swung open.
Please, God, Ebenezer thought, whatever you have to say, make it quick. I already know I’m—
“There you are!”
Past’s voice was frantic. As the warmth from their flame descended, Ebenezer braced himself. One more sensation to add to the ever-growing list of things he had to get away from, at any cost.
He could infer, at least, that they were crouching next to him.
“Scrooge, what happened? You were doing wonderfully! Those warmongering wrath Avaritions didn’t even know what hit the—“
“Get out.”
Their voice fell. “What?”
“Get out,” Ebenezer said, his throat raw with anguish. “Please.”
“Scrooge, I—“
He covered his ears with his hands and, like a teakettle boiling over, allowed the searing pain all over his body to exit him through his mouth. “I SAID, GET OUT!”
Past’s flame sputtered indignantly. “Ebenezer Scrooge-if-you-please, you do not speak to me like that!”
He’d already resumed sobbing.
There was a sound of sinking, congealing wax— one that likely would have been imperceptible to any other man. The weight of the darkness all around Ebenezer shifted. Past was sitting beside him now, allowing him to weep, waiting for him to recover.
I’m sorry, he thought desperately. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry.
Past’s voice cut right through all the horrendous noise in his head. I forgive you. It’s alright.
They paused.
You’re upset, they noticed.
Ebenezer hid his face, ashamed. Of course I’m upset!
What can I do to help you?
I don’t know. I don’t know. I don’t know I don’t know I don’t know I don
Oi. Past seized his attention. Shh. It’s fine. You don’t have to know. My, there’s a lot of clutter in here, isn’t there?
Where?
In your head, of course!
This got Ebenezer’s attention.
Yes, he thought, more slowly this time. Yes, I suppose there is.
Don’t you think we ought to clean this out?
He resisted the urge to wail. I don’t know where to start.
That’s perfectly fine. I’ll help you. My brain— even if it is just a wick— gets like that sometimes, too. Now, where to start, where to start…
Past considered this for a while.
Ah! I know! I’ve got a really good one. You’ve got to open your eyes for it, though—
No. Ebenezer shut them down immediately. No no no no no no no no no.
Hm. Well, that’s alright. Ooh! How about we do another? For this one, I’ll show you an image, and we can work with that. How’s that sound?
He didn’t answer.
Scrooge?
That works, he thought back at last. But I need to know what the image is.
It won’t be anything you aren’t familiar with. Just this very cabin, with a few things strewn about. Is that alright?
Ebenezer nodded.
Good. Here goes!
Instead of all the other horrible things invading his mind— the sharp shapes, the biting, stinging colors, the grime on cobblestone and the termite-eaten scaffoldings and those godforsaken lights— Ebenezer received this image slowly. First, vague, shadowy outlines of the room crept into his view. Then, they morphed into his bed and dresser at night. The moon illuminated them into shades of gray. Slivers of white traveled along the edges of objects that weren’t there before. Gradually, night turned into day. Not vicious afternoon and its blistering sun; but the softest dawn, a topaz sort of blue, just before sunrise.
Ebenezer watched as the sky outside the window dyed the rest of the room the same color. Behind the panes, a white butterfly rose, drifting sleepily upward.
Oh, he thought. That’s nice.
Isn’t it? Now, hush, or you’ll make me lose focus!
He allowed his breathing to slow.
Excellent. From a growing puddle of wax on the floor, Past— a thought of them, at least— emerged into the room. They smiled approvingly. Their unmistakable flame illuminated their surroundings. The room was filled, top to bottom, with miscellanea. It infected every corner, piled high atop the bed, obscured the dresser. Clocks; blankets; quilts and vases and glasses and bowls and so much empty luggage, sprawled open like dissected mice, and— and— and—
Ebenezer tensed again. You said a few things.
Yes, yes, I did. But watch! I’m going to clean all of this up!
How is that supposed to help me? he demanded.
Well, Past began, opening a suitcase and carefully piling junk into it, there are a few ways. For one, it’ll distract you from whatever it is that’s bothering you. And doing this sort of thing always clears my mind. You know. Categorizing. Sorting. Picking one thing up, putting it someplace else. Whenever I feel like you do right now, I think of myself tidying up my own realm, the same way I’m tidying yours. Not to mention, all of this mess represents the mess in your mind. Piece by piece, we’ll clear it out.
By the way, they added, how would you like me to organize these?
What do you mean?
Shape? Past held up a circular clock and an intricately-woven throw pillow. Color? Type? Circumference? Area? Volume? I doubt I can sort them by volume, but—
By type, Ebenezer thought hastily. Type is fine. Thank you.
Got it!
Past hummed as they went about their work. Before long, every clock in the room had been sealed away into an impossibly small suitcase; Ebenezer was too tired now to wonder how it accommodated them.
Of course they started with the clocks, he thought, and they smiled when he did.
They moved on to folding the blankets. The glassware was next; as delicately as they could, they wrapped each one in thick paper before setting it down. Every few suitcases, Past took a detour: dusting the windowsill, examining a porcelain plate on the dresser, redoing the bedsheets.
The clutter had been impossible before. Now, after what felt like forever, only suitcases remained: some on Ebenezer’s bed, most scattered across the hardwood. Past took their time stacking them atop one another in a corner, sometimes two at once.
Then they flung the window open, and another butterfly found its way in.
At last.
He could breathe.
There! Past dusted off their hands. Try opening your eyes now.
“That’s better, isn’t it?”
Ebenezer sighed. He lay on his back now, perfectly horizontal, his hands woven together. Now that Past had left his thoughts, now that his nerves had finally receded, a profound exhaustion weighed him down.
“Thank you,” he said.
Sitting on on the floor, one leg folded, they accompanied him. “But of course! What was I supposed to do?”
“I don’t know.” Ebenezer stared at the embers drifting around Past’s head, mesmerized. “Grab my shoulders. Shake me. Command me to snap out of it.”
“Oh, no,” Past said gently, shaking their head. More embers flew. “I can’t do that. That would make everything worse. Much, much worse. And we can’t have that, can we?”
“No. I suppose not.”
He allowed himself to close his eyes, just for a moment. A flickering spark imprinted itself on his vision.
He was too tired to mind it.
“What of the others?” Ebenezer asked, after some time. “Are they alright? I can’t imagine they’ll forgive me for leaving them.”
Past scoffed. “Don’t worry about them. They’re fine. You got a couple good hits in. By the time you left, we were just about done with those scoundrels. We made quick work of them!”
They flexed their arm, turning smooth wax into candlelit muscle.
“Besides,” they said, their arm returning to normal, “we’ve forgiven you for far worse. If you explain what happened to them, I’m sure the rest will understand.”
Ebenezer’s eyes traced the panels in the ceiling. He trusted Present to understand. He always did. But Future? Jacob? He could never quite tell what either of them were thinking. With Future, at least, he had grown used to their enigmatic nature. It was par for the course.
Jacob was different.
He was just as different from the Entis as he was from his living self. An entirely separate being. Jacob was kinder now, yes, of course; but, in a way, he’d become… Ebenezer didn’t know what. Colder? Physically, maybe. No, that wasn’t the word he’d wanted. Graver? Another pun. Damn it.
He settled for the word ‘distant.’
Whatever Jacob had become, it was impossible that he could look at what Ebenezer had done and not think, Something is wrong with you.
Ebenezer looked to Past and said, “I can’t.”
“Why not?”
“I… even I don’t know what just happened to me.”
Past stared ahead, their gaze solemn. Without looking at him, they asked, “Has this ever happened to you before?”
Now, Ebenezer didn’t hesitate. It was during times like this that he could fully trust them— when their usual cheeky, goading demeanor faded away into a contemplative stillness.
“It has,” he said. “A few times. When I was a boy.”
“How…” Past thought for a moment. “Whenever it did, how did you feel?”
“Before, during, or afterwards?”
“Doesn’t matter.”
“I…” Why was his lower lip quivering? “Well, I… I remember one time. On New Year’s Eve.”
“What happened then?” they asked gently.
“I was… I had to have been about eleven. Twelve, perhaps. I was already working at the factory then. I had gotten home terribly late. It was loud outside, and crowded. I’d had to weave my way through dozens of people, all of them making more noise than you could possibly imagine. I was cold, but I was sweating. My favorite winter coat was almost threadbare. I wanted nothing more than to eat dinner and go to sleep.
“And then… I got home, and— and— and not only was there nothing to eat, nothing but a dry, stale loaf of bread, barely enough to accommodate the three of us… but I’d learned, that night, that Jen’s condition had worsened. I didn’t see her when I arrived home. Only my mother, at the kitchen table, her face in her hands. Jen was… she was…”
He tried to force down the lump in his throat.
“She was coughing from another room. Badly. I— I can’t describe it to you. It must have been something in the air. My mother and I both feared we would lose her that night. My entire trajectory changed, then. I didn’t want to eat anymore. Only wanted to run to her, to hold her in my arms until the coughing stopped. So I did. We spent the next few hours like that. I held her so tightly, so fiercely, as if I thought that— that had death chosen to take her then, perhaps I could have stopped it.
“Fortunately, as you know, Jen didn’t perish that night. But, right when her cough had subsided… that was when the fireworks began. I couldn’t bear it. It was too loud; the flat was drafty and cold, and we both shivered; poor Jen had to suffer yet another fit. We were desperately hungry, even with my meager contribution. All her pain had become mine, as well. And…”
Ebenezer paused, not bothering to wipe the tears that had rolled down his face.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “I know this all sounds ridiculous.”
“No, it doesn’t. It sounds dreadful.” Past’s hand was on his now. “Do you need to stop?”
He shook his head, steeled himself, and continued.
“I… I panicked,” he said. “In much the same way I did today. I’d rather not give any details. All I’ll tell you is that Jen was terrified, and my mother was beside herself. They both forgave me, eventually. I’m inclined to believe Jen forgave me far sooner, even though she had every right not to. I was supposed to be strong for her. That night, I failed.
“My peers were less lenient. I’d had several more… attacks throughout my boyhood, most of them at home. One day, though… I… well, suffice it to say that they’re the reason I haven’t behaved in such a way since. Until today, of course. I just don’t know what possessed me to act like that. I’m sorry I yelled at you, Past.”
“You’re alright. I promise.” They squeezed his hand. “I’m not angry with you. I told you, it happens to me, too.”
Ebenezer squeezed their hand back, fearing for a moment that he would misshape it. “But… but why? I shouldn’t be having tantrums like that at my age. I’ve no excuse to act that way, running from battle, bawling my eyes out like a child. And all over… I don’t even remember what.”
“It wasn’t a tantrum, Scrooge.”
“What else do you call it, then?” he asked, rolling his eyes.
Past sighed. “Remember when I told you that you perceive the world differently?”
“Yes, but...”
“Remember how I said it’s a gift?”
“I don’t see what that has to do with anything.”
“Well…” They stroked his hand with their thumb. “Sometimes seeing the world differently means responding to it differently. You didn’t choose to act this way, did you?”
“No. If I could have fought it, I would. It just… happened upon me, and I was powerless to stop it.”
Past nodded. “Because you’ve never had anyone to help you through it. You’re a sensitive man, Ebenezer. There’s nothing wrong with that.”
He sniffled. No one had ever told him that before.
“But I know you don’t want this to happen again,” Past continued, “and I can’t say I blame you. It must have felt awful.”
“It did.” Tears choked Ebenezer’s voice.
“Well, then, I’ll help you. No one else has to know, if you don’t want them to. You can feel that tension building up inside you before it happens, can’t you?”
He nodded.
“That’s good,” Past said. “That means we can stop it before it starts. Next time you get that feeling, the one where your chest is tight or something hurts or everything is wrong, you let me know post-haste! If we can leave, I’ll go with you. If not, I’ll help you relax, and you can get right back into it! How’s that sound?”
“Quite fine.” Ebenezer had closed his eyes again— with relief, this time. “In the event I cannot speak to you, shall I simply… er… think something at you? A signal, perhaps?”
“Ooh, a signal!” Past clapped excitedly. “I love signals! It can be our own secret code! Well then, Scrooge, what shall this signal be?”
“A… a dog,” he decided. He looked up at them. “An angry one, with its hackles raised and teeth bared. If I think of that, you should know I’m about to lose my composure.”
They fell silent.
“Past?”
“Oh! Yes! A dog! Sorry, I was thinking. Yeah, that is a nice visual, I suppose. All symbolic, and whatnot. But don’t you think we should go for something a bit… oh, I don’t know… simpler?”
“Should we?” Ebenezer asked, his voice softening.
“I was thinking something like… a green triangle.” Past drew a triangle in the air with a finger. “It’s easy to remember, and it reminds me of you.”
Ebenezer’s brow furrowed. “A triangle reminds you of me?”
“It’s prickly like you!”
That made him snort.
Past rose up and offered him a hand. “Well, then! Ready to go back outside? I’m almost certain the rest are having a lovely game of Hearts in Jacob’s domain right now.”
When he hesitated, they leaned in.
“But you know what would make it even lovelier?” they asked. “If you were there! Come on! Up we get!”
Ebenezer didn’t take their hand. Purely to irritate them, allowing himself a smug grin, he levitated about a meter into the air before righting himself and lowering himself onto the ground.
Past sputtered. Then they scoffed. “Show-off.”
“Says the one with a hammer twice their size,” Ebenezer retorted, nudging them playfully in the side.
He got about halfway to the door before he stopped.
“Past?” he began, turning his head to look at them. Shadows from his bedpost danced in their light.
“Yeah?”
“Thank you.” His face heated with the slightest vestiges of shame. “For… for tolerating me and my nonsen—“
“Oi!” they said, marching up to him and slapping him roughly on the back. “It’s not nonsense! Don’t talk about my friend like that!”
Ebenezer was too shocked to be upset. He laughed instead. “Ow! What do you mean, your friend?”
“Why, you, of course! Unless there’s been some change I don’t know about!”
Past stuck their tongue out at him. Then they softened, reaching for the door.
“Come on, Scrooge,” they said. “I mean it. I’m not just tolerating you.”
“But…”
They interrupted him. “You might have felt a need to hide your truest self in life; but I can assure you, you needn’t do that anymore. Your joy; your pain; your… eccentricities, shall we call them— they all have a place here. They are real, and they are yours, and no one can take them from you. You certainly can’t hate them into going away.”
Just as Ebenezer was about to sob again, Past brightened.
“Well? What are we waiting for?” they chirped, already halfway out the door. “Those cards aren’t going to re-shuffle themselves!”
He followed closely behind them.
He could only hope they were right.