Chapter Text
It's been a few weeks since Ox has last been here in the AI department of the DWMA institute. He's had a couple of physical check ups at the hospital, and a couple of talks with Marie because she wanted to make sure he was really okay. He was fine. Is fine. More fine than he thought he would be at least. He made sure to stay away from anything related to project Spartoi though, and that was really hard in this building. He found out soon after they finished that Kid was not the only researcher from whom they lent a face, and really the last thing he wanted was to see a face from that terrible hotel. He wouldn't necessarily call it a trauma. It felt more like a bad distant dream, one where he had to keep telling himself it was not real. He just had to go back to his life and to a familiar routine. But there were always some questions left. Marie did her best to explain the facts, but it wasn't just the facts he was curious about, it was psychology. Not his psychology, no, he's sure that Marie might have some answers to that too (after all they have a better idea of what happens in his grey cells than he does), but to that of the killer.
He blames M. E. Albaster, author of a series of murder mystery novels. Yes, he's gone back to his old ways, but plenty of new things have been introduced to him, and thus he found himself reading more murder mysteries. At first it was just curiosity, but then he found that he related to the characters. He's been in their exact shoes. He's seen a dead body and been suspected of murder only for the killer to be revealed right at the end.
And then there was the killer. Though Ox never thought of himself as a good person, he could never condone what the killer did. Yes, he could understand them, but he could never do the same. Even if they experienced the greatest injustice, they ended up hurting more people than they helped, themselves included. But there was one story that stuck out to him. The killer did not believe the detective could figure it out, because they didn't believe in the study of psychology. How is a person, the detective in this case, able to crawl into the mind of the killer? How can they know their motives so accurately, that they can recall so accurately how a murder has been committed? Ox found himself agreeing with the killer. He's never been good with people himself, and the detective always seems to be some kind of oddball too. It happens so often in fiction, but that's not how real murders are solved. You can't know what someone else is really thinking. Ox chuckles to himself. You can't even know if that other person is real.
Now that he thinks about it, Maka never made any assumptions about the killer psychology. She just laid down the facts of when and how, but not the why. There was no motive after all. No, it was Ox himself who found the why. And yet, he still doesn't understand a thing about Harvar. He does not understand him, and still Ox enjoyed his company. The one fictional character who turned out to be real.
So that's why he's back here, at the DWMA institute, to finally see Harvar here on the other side.
He's early though. Harvar would have a break at 13:00, but it's only 12:45. So now Ox is just sitting, waiting silently as the clock ticks by. He frowns to himself. When was the last time he's had to wait for so long? Granted, he just got here. And he's the one who's early. Still, he's not used to it. He doesn't like to be kept waiting.
Maybe, he should just get a drink first.
He spots a coffee vending machine in the corner. Did he bring tea bags with him? If so, he could definitely use a bit of tea. He opens his bag and rummages through it to fish out some bags of green tea. A man definitely can’t go outside without bringing his own tea nowadays. He sighs to himself. A man definitely can’t trust drinking whatever he’s given either.
It probably wasn’t the intention, but the entire experience changed him. Yeah, maybe he did learn a lesson. More specifically, it were Harvar and Soul who taught him something, but he’s not sure if it was all worth it. He’s never been the naive type. He’s never easily trusted people. And somehow this whole murder business made him simultaneously more open and more suspicious. No, he has not been able to make any new meaningful connections since he’s returned to reality. He didn’t have any of those beforehand either.
Maybe that’s why he… missed Harvar.
Another sigh leaves his lips as he walks towards the coffee vending machine, swipes his card, and punches in the numbers for a cup of hot water. The machine smiles at him–yes it smiles, no he’s not dreaming–there’s a weird face on the screen informing him he did something wrong.
What the hell?
He really needs this tea. Give him his tea goddamnit!
Ox growls and starts the same routine. Swipe card, punch numbers, sad face. Swipe card, punch numbers—maybe he shouldn’t punch? No, this thing should understand what he wants right? Besides, how hard is it for this thing to get him a cup of boiled water?
He does some literal punching, because this thing apparently wants him to die of dehydration, when he hears a familiar voice behind him.
“Maybe it helps if you ask nicely,” a deep voice says.
“Wha-a–” This can’t be who he thinks it is, right?
Ox slowly turns around–a part of him doesn’t want to see the guy, since he’s another part of a bad dream that should be buried–and there he is. Similar, but different. His hair is definitely as fair as it was at the hotel, but maybe he’s more of a greying blonde than a real whitehead. His eyes aren’t red but a deep brown, and he definitely looks more mature than the character he got to know as Soul Eater. But this man is undoubtedly Soul. It’s in the amused lilt of his voice and the arch of his brows, and the newspaper and laptop next to him.
“Hey, you okay?” he asks, voice showing a hint of concern.
Ox frowns. “I’m fine.”
Soul… or not-Soul rolls his eyes. “You were sighing a lot earlier, so there must be something wrong. Also, you’re punching Coff-E.”
“Coff-E?”
“You know, the coffee vending machine?”
Ox looks at him like he’s crazy, but then his suspicious glare turns to the machine. Does that mean this is also one of those weird Artificial Intelligence things?
“You’re giving Coff-E the evil eye,” Soul says with a smirk. “I’m guessing he’s being stubborn?”
He shifts his eyes towards Soul not-Soul. Does he recognise Ox? Is he just another researcher who has worked on the project, without knowing any of the participants? The guy doesn’t give him any indication that he does or doesn’t know who Ox is.
Ox is really irritated right now, but he guesses it’s best to just explain to the guy what he wants. “Is this another one of those weird AI’s? Who are you?” he asks instead. Okay, wrong explanation. “I mean, water. Hot water.”
Soul not-Soul chuckles. “Ethan. Soul Ethan.”
What?
“And I can solve your water problem, Mister Water.”
Ox narrows his eyes. What is he talking about—oooh. He’s making a stupid James Bond joke. He hadn’t talked to Soul that much before the library conversation, but this man definitely has the same ability to get on your nerves. Apparently he also has the same affinity for technology for he’s typing away furiously at his laptop before Ox hears a cup fall into place behind him and liquid falling onto the carton.
“As far as AI’s go, Coff-E is just a coffee maker with a face.” Soul grins when Ox takes out the cup of hot water. “But he’s definitely as easy to manipulate, now what’s the magic word you say when somebody helps you?”
Ox’s mouth falls open, ready to start shouting, but he stops himself.
“Thank you,” he says. Yes, this man is definitely irritating, but he also helped him get his precious drink. “Ford. Ox Ford,” he adds.
Soul’s face changes from amusement to confusion to realisation.
“Hold on!” It’s Soul who ends up shouting. Does he now realise that Ox was one of the participants in project Spartoi? “Aren’t you that streamer? You know, uhh what game did you play again, Epic Craft?”
“League Epic Impact” Ox corrects with a straight face, but he can’t help but feel a bit of joy for being acknowledged. “You’ve heard of me?”
“Yes, my nephews are fans,” Soul says with great pride. “They like to watch your content, want to become gamers too, they say..” He chuckles. “But I’m telling ya, everytime I get them a new game they finish it in just a couple of hours. At first I thought they were geniuses, but turns out they just know what to do and where to go from watching all these streams.” He shrugs, a faraway look on his face. “It’s fine if that’s how they want to play. Not that good for my wallet though.”
“Sounds like you spoil them,” Ox replies. He’s not really good with kids. Not that he has many interactions with kids. He knows that he probably has some kid viewers, but he really only streams for himself, when he has a bit of time to relax. He never considered that people might actually become fans of him. Does that mean he has to change his content to be more kid-friendly? Does he need to put trigger warnings on his content? He always thought those things were bullshit, but since he’s back to reality he’s been avoiding certain people, certain places and certain topics. He’s definitely not going to go to an island anytime soon. He may be back here in this building, but he’s glad Harvar wanted to talk to him in the cafeteria. A place that does not feel like a lab, with plenty of other people just doing normal things.
“UNCLE SOUL!” A small boy comes flying to jump Soul, and another one quickly follows to cling to the man’s leg. Ox does not envy him at all.
“You forgot your lunch,” the second boy says calmly.
“What are you guys doing here?” Soul asks, seemingly as surprised as Ox by the sudden intrusion, though he seems used to the kids hanging off him. His eyes are filled with mirth as he looks at the boys, hands moving to pull both of them closer. Then he turns to Ox again. “Speak of the devil and you’ll find them,” he says laughing.
“Yeah,” Ox replies. Uncertain if his presence here is still wanted. He got what he wanted, a hot cup of water–-he realises he still has to put some tea in it– so there’s no reason for him to loiter here any longer. But Soul seems to spot something in the corner, prompting him to alert the boys of Ox’s presence.
“Hold on boys, see who’s that?” Soul points at Ox with his nose. “Ain’t that your gamer idol?”
“AAAH!” The first boy says. He jumps off Soul and then skips towards Ox. Ox almost fears that he’s going to get jumped too, but instead the boy holds out his hand. “YOU’RE OX FORD! HI, I’M REGGIE.”
Ox hesitantly takes the boy’s hand to shake it. That’s what he wants to do, right? “I’m Ox Ford,” Ox says curtly.
When they slowly shake hands he notices just how small Reggie’s hands are. It’s so strange how a human starts out so small. Ox too once had hands as small as these. He also used to be innocent. What changed?
Ox notices the other boy has crept up behind Reggie, slightly smaller and more reserved. The boy nudges his brother, at least Ox assumes they are brothers. They look very much alike. “I’m Sebastian,” he says, without holding out his hands.
“I’m never gonna wash this hand again,” Reggie says enthusiastically after he finally lets go.
“Eww,” Sebastian replies.
“That’s not very hygienic,” Ox says. He looks up to see if Soul has something to say about that, but Soul is entangled in another conversation with a woman near the exit. Ox blinks. Once. Twice. That’s definitely Maka, and she’s lovingly handing him some food. And they kiss and—oh god he looks away. It was just a chaste peck on the lips, the one you’d give to greet your loved ones. But Ox isn’t used to seeing that kind of affection.
“Eww,” Sebastian says again. “Aunt and Uncle are swapping spit.”
“I heard that!” Soul says as he approaches the boys, grabbing the little guy to lift him up in the air.
“Noooo, uncle,” he whines. “Put me down!”
“Want some spit too?” Soul says as he noisily kisses the boy on his cheek.
“Not here!” He whines laughing.
“Who taught you to talk like that anyway? Swapping spit, really?”
Maka giggles as Reggie holds out his hands to her, apparently he wants in on the action too. She briefly lifts him up and also gives him a quick kiss before putting him down again.
Ox somehow finds himself smiling. It’s strange to see so much happiness, love and affection. He doesn’t know what to think or how to feel, but there's a part of him that’s happy to see one of his wishes from the hotel fulfilled. He wished they’d find eachother again, and here they are together, and happy.
They’re not the same people as the ones he’s met before, and he shouldn’t project any feelings he had towards them on these people. It’s probably best to just leave now, and not get involved. It feels a bit like he’s invading their space, their little place of happiness where he does not belong.
He takes a step away, but Reggie soon interrupts him. “WAAIIT!” The boy almost looks like he wants to jump him again, but he’s held back by Maka.
“Reggie, don’t yell,” she says calmly. She looks up at Ox and smiles. She looks almost exactly like the Maka in the hotel, but her eyes are a bit darker and her face somehow looks a bit different. Maybe because the other Maka looked uncanny to him once he realised she was not real. “Sorry, he’s excitable,” she says.
“No, it’s okay,” He blurts out. Is it okay? He doesn’t know what this kid wants or why he’s yelling, but somehow ox doesn’t want to disappoint him.
“Do you need to go?” Reggies asks softly.
Ox looks at his watch. It’s 12.56. “I have an appointment at 13:00.”
“Oh,” Reggie says disappointed.
Ox squats down to get on the same level as the boy. “Sorry,” he says awkwardly. “Do you need something?”
“Uhhh.” Reggie looks up like he’s thinking. “I’m your fan.”
He’s not sure how to reply to that. “Thank you?”
That somehow makes Reggie smile. “You’re welcome!” The boy beams and then frowns. An idea seems to form in his mind. “Can I have an autograph then?”
He looks around to see if Harvar has already arrived, and yeap, he’s already standing by the entrance, looking at him with amusement and an encouraging thumbs up. It’s all too familiar. Ox trying to be nice to someone, and Harvar nodding at him. “Yeah, sure,” Ox replies. “But I don’t have any pen or anything.”
“Oh, but I do!” Maka yells beside them. She takes out a familiar notebook, pen attached to the side. “Here, you can use one of the pages at the end.”
“Can you also write for Reggie and Sebby?” Reggie asks innocently as Maka hands Ox the notebook.
“Uncle, put me down!” Sebastian squirms and somehow finds his way out of his uncle's arms, quickly running to look over his brother’s shoulder “I wanna see too!”
Ox opens the notebook, filled pages passing by as he travels to the end. “Okay.” Ox complies and scribbles his autograph. “Ox Ford. For Reggie and Sebby.”
“Thank you!” Reggie says happily.
“Wow,” Sebastian mutters. “Thank you, sir.”
The two boys high five each other and jump Soul again. When Ox looks at Harvar, he smiles. Ox didn’t think he could make people happy in such a way, nor did he think it would feel so good. He never would’ve done this before the experiment though.
Maybe he learned something good after all.
“So what did you want to talk to me about?” Harvar sits down, unfazed as ever.
Ox sighs. “You told me you’d answer my question on the other side.”
“Yeah,” he replies, taking a sip of his coffee. “But I understand Marie already told you everything.”
“She did, but some questions only you can answer.”
Harvar raises an eyebrow. “How come?”
“Because Marie never went into that simulation with me. You did. You were with me along every step of the way.” He chuckles. “Even though you were missing half the time, apparently to plot a murder.”
Harvar chuckles too. “Sorry. Are you angry?”
“Yeah,” Ox replies. “You weren’t a very good butler.” He pauses. “Maybe it’s more accurate to say I was angry. But really I was angry all the time in that hotel.”
“Are you always like that?”
“I don’t know,” Ox mutters. He hadn’t really thought about it before the people Harvar pointed out to him how much of an asshole he was, even though the others, more specifically Kilik and Miss Tea, told him exactly what they thought about him as well. Maybe it’s because Harvar said it.
“You certainly aren’t now,” Harvar says with a shrug. “I hope it wasn’t because of me though. You certainly caused the people at the hotel a lot of grief.”
Ox frowns. “Hmmmm, that’s weird.”
“What’s weird?”
“You refer to them as people.”
“Should I not?”
“I don’t know,” Ox says. “Do you see them as people?”
“I guess.”
“What about me?”
“I know you’re a person.”
“How can you be so sure I’m real?”
“I just know,” Harvar says, shrugging.
“Could you have killed me too, then?”
“If that’s what you’re worried about, why did you want to meet?”
“No, the thing is…” He pauses, trying to gather his thoughts. “I don’t know. From what Marie told me the murder wasn’t part of the story. It was something completely caused by external factors. You.”
“Yes, but it was always a possibility. The characters were able to die, it’s in their programming.”
“Right. So…”
“So?”
“How could you do it?”
“What do you mean?” Now it’s Harvar’s time to frown. “They weren’t real.”
“I know, but didn’t it feel like you were killing a real person?”
A silence falls. Harvar raises his hand to his chin, seemingly deep in thought. He sighs.
“Yeah. Of course I knew they weren’t real from the beginning, but once you’re there you sometimes forget about that.” He smiles fondly. “Just like you, I got the chance to meet these people and talk to them. It’s like talking to random internet strangers, you don’t really care if you won’t ever be able to meet the real them, it’s still nice to converse with them.”
“So…”
“You’re not the first person with whom I went into project Spartoi, so I guess it’s easier for me to see them as characters. I experience the same way you experience a story heavy game. Like a visual novel. You interact with characters, make friends with them and start to like them. You might even have your favourite characters, I know I always liked conversing with Tsubaki, but in the end I’ve started the story many times before, the same way you can restart a game. Every time you may become fonder of these characters, but in the end you know it’s not real. It’s just a character and it’s just a game.”
“I still don’t know if I could-”
“You’ve ever played a game with multiple endings, trying to get all of them at least once?”
“Yeah…”
“Sometimes getting all the endings means you’ll have to make choices you’d normally never make. Sometimes you’ll have to hurt these people. Sometimes you might even like it. But it doesn’t matter, because in the end it’s all not real.”
Ox lets out a humourless laugh. “It’s the exact opposite of what they taught me, yaknow.”
Harvar smiles. “Yeah, I know. In the end, I was the one treating it like a game, and you were the one who learned to be nice to the people around you.”
“Yeah, exactly,” Ox says, sighing. “So was I wrong?”
“I don’t think so,” Harvar replies. He nods to the half empty cup in Ox’s hands. “Your tea is getting cold.”
“Right.”
“You know, I felt conflicted at first too. But it’s a but like a murder mystery author killing off their characters. It’s just fiction. It’s just real. And the really important thing is that you should be able to distinguish the real and the fake.” He holds out his hands like he’s holding berries, but they’re empty right now. “How have you been coping with that?”
“Things have just gone back to the way they were before,” Ox says sadly. “But I don’t know how to deal with the people around me.”
“Does it sometimes feel like they’re fake? Like you’re still dreaming?”
“Yes, and no.” Ox shrugs. “It’s weird to see people interact with each other. It somehow didn’t matter, but at the same time… it did? Does that make any sense?”
“Not really,” Harvar replies. “Do you mean that it doesn’t matter if they’re not real?”
“Maybe. I don’t know. It used to feel like nothing was real, but now I know for sure none of it is a dream. I just don’t know how to deal with that… I guess.” Ox downs the rest of his cup, then stares at the empty bottom. How does he put this into words? It’s a complicated mess. “I just feel like I don’t want to be the person I was in the hotel. But sometimes it’s easier to pretend people just aren’t real. Sometimes it’s what I want, and sometimes it’s what I fear.”
Harvar hums. “I think you did fine earlier, with those kids.”
“I didn’t do anything, really. Just gave them my autograph.”
“For starters, you didn’t yell.”
“That’s-”
“You weren’t being an asshole.”
Ox jumps out of his seat. “Hey!”
“What are you heying me for, I’m complimenting you,” Harvar says with a smirk.
“You’re implying that-”
“You’re an asshole yeah.” He takes another sip of his coffee. “Or you were at least. Looks to me like you’re working on it.”
Ox sits down again, hands on his eyes and growling. “I don’t know how to deal with kids.”
Harvar starts to laugh. Really laugh. From the bottom of his belly. It gets Ox all defensive. “What’s so funny?”
Harvar doesn’t stop. “Nothing,” he says between tears of joy. “Nothing, just-nobody knows how to deal with kids.”
Honestly, that’s not even funny, yet Ox finds himself chuckling as well. “So it’s not a good starting point, huh?”
Harvar calms down, and wipes away the tears. “Not at all, sorry. I wouldn’t have known how to deal with that either. Yet, you did.”
“I saw you standing there,” Ox says, a small smile bubbling up.
“I know.”
“Harvar?”
“Yeah?”
For all the times he was a terrible butler, but still somehow nice to be around. For meeting up with him here and making him smile. For encouraging him to do the right thing. For being his friend at that strange hotel.
“Thank you.”
19:50, Soul is late. Wes probably already picked up the boys, and Maka is home alone now, waiting for him. It’s not like they’ve got an appointment or anything, but he could have been long home with his wife already, but no, the trains were cancelled again today.
He unlocks the door and quietly opens it. He wasn’t sure what to expect, but it wasn’t the familiar strumming of Hotel California’s instrumental.
He kicks off his shoes and exits the hallway, only to find her sleeping on the couch. Okay, he’s late, but he’s not that late. The boys must’ve really drained her energy. Did she already eat? Or was she waiting for them to eat together?
He turns off the music and crouches down next to the couch, and simply stares at her. She looks a bit funny, cheek squashed on a notebook–of course she fell asleep while she was writing–hair mussed and a bit of drool. He chuckles. She used to complain he drooled too much. Fair, it’s not the most attractive thing, objectively speaking, but even if she was covered in trash he’d still think she’s the most beautiful woman in the world.
A beautiful woman he really wants to wake up and kiss right now. He ponders about the pros and cons. She needs her rest, but it’s not good to let her sleep through dinner.
He ends up poking her cheek.
“Makaaa,” he whines. “Wake up, sleepyhead.”
“Hnnnggg.”
Good, she’s waking up. He kisses her cheek, and then her nose, and her forehead, and just every piece of skin above the neck he can find.
“Soouuul,” Maka replies, eyes still closed, but her head rising from her notebook. He takes the chance to peck her on her lips.
“Wake up,” he whispers in her ear, before kissing it.
Her eyes slowly open, and immediately she sends him a glare.
“Scary,” he mumbles into her skin.
“Mmhmm,” she responds with a smile. “What’s gotten you in such a kissing mood?”
Soul wiggles his eyebrows. “You.”
She giggles, and finally initiates to kiss him back, even if it’s just on the nose. “Okay, Casanova. What’s up?”
“Did you eat already?”
She frowns. “What time is it?”
“About 8 PM.”
“Oh.” She pauses. “I haven’t made anything yet.”
Soul shrugs. “That’s fine, I’ll cook.”
“I had the day off today,” Maka says, as she rises from the couch.
“Yeah, but you also had the boys, apparently.” He heads towards the kitchen and looks in the fridge. “You’ve been working so hard to meet your deadlines. You take one day for yourself, and Wes comes to dump the kids here. How did he know you were available anyway?”
He feels two arms, strong but tired, embrace him from behind. “It’s okay. I was feeling a bit lonely without you anyway, and I like having the kids over.”
Soul snorts. “You used to be so bad with kids. Didn’t know how to deal with them.”
“Didn’t know how to deal with you either.”
“So what did you guys do?”
He feels her plant her chin in his back, so she can talk freely. “Played a bit of Clue, did some puzzles. You know, the usual.”
“Played some murder games, I see.”
“They’re very intelligent. I almost lost.”
Soul fake gasps. “Impossible.”
She pokes his waist. “Hush, Soul.”
He spasms, but his hand quickly finds hers on his waist, and he wiggles his fingers between hers. She’s so warm, and nice, and he knows he’s not going to get any cooking done while she’s here hugging him. Between the warmth of her fingers he feels the cool steel of her wedding ring. It’s already been years since they got married, even longer since she accepted him in her life. It’s been a challenge, and… he’s ready to take on new challenges with her.
“Hey Maka, I’ve been thinking…”
“Hmmm?”
“The project is almost over, so maybe I can take a few weeks off. And well, you’re still editing your book, but when you’re done…”
She giggles. “Are you asking me out on a date?”
He raises her hand and kisses her wrist. “Guess I am. But a really prolonged date. Maybe one or two weeks.”
“Actually, I’ve been thinking about that too.” She’s silent for a while, but he just knows she’s probably biting his lip. “I really missed you today. It was so quiet before the boys came.”
He lets go of her and turns around. His face is serious, but hopeful. “Maybe we can make it a bit livelier?”
“You mean–” She looks up at him, eyes bright and big. “I don’t know, our jobs-”
“Are stable and we have a nice house,” he finishes.
“I don’t know… if it’s very realistic.”
“It’s okay if you don’t want to. Just think about it?” He gives her the best puppy eyes he can muster, but really, this isn’t something that can be achieved by just begging. She has to want it herself first.
“We can talk about it… on our holiday?”
“Oh?”
She shifts her eyes away from him, like she’s guilty of committing a crime. “I said I was thinking about it already, right? And well, I might have already looked at holiday destinations.”
“Okay,” he simply says. “What’s the catch?”
“Nothing bad, just…” She giggles. “It’s stupid really.”
“Then it must be good.”
She buries her face in his chest, obviously embarrassed. “Well, you know how my latest story takes place on an island, in a hotel?”
“You wanna go to a hotel on an island?”
“It was just a stupid idea, to celebrate the publication of my next book.”
He stares at her for a second. Her cheeks are red and she’s pouting a little. He’s not sure if this is her way of begging him to go, but really he doesn’t need that much convincing. It’s not the active vacation she’s used to, but they both probably need some time to unwind and just relax in a completely new environment. So what if that means they’ll be on an island for a while. All the better if it’s a beautiful island, and otherwise he honestly wouldn’t mind spending time in their hotel room all day, talking about (and maybe realising) the other thing he’s potentially excited about. Even if she says no, a boy can dream, right?
He raises her chin with her index finger, and kisses her, this one longer and deeper than all the ones before.
“Why dream, when you can make it a reality?” he mutters against her mouth.
“Really?” She throws her arms around his neck and quickly kisses him again.
“Hmmm, by the way M. E. Albaster, speaking of your book, did you finally think of a title?”
She nods.
“Bring your Alibis.”
He chuckles. So that’s why she’s been listening to Hotel California so often lately.
“What a nice surprise.”
.
.
.
.
The End.