Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Sometimes, when you yell into the void, the void yells back.

Mae Borowski knew that all too well. She had heard it, many times--though it wasn’t a yelling, really, so much as it had been some kind of ominous, mumbling whisper spoken in a language she was pretty sure wasn’t actually a language at all. It was just... garbage. Garbled, nonsensical, hissing, growling, garbage. Sometimes, when she closed her eyes, she could hear it, still, just on the edges of her hearing. It was there, in the low rumble of the car engine and the hum of the tires over rough, worn roads driven too many times before. It was there, in the howling of the wind as they tore through the countryside, escaping the tireless vacuum that always seemed to pull them back. Every time she thought she had escaped it, thought maybe she had silenced it for good... it was there, hissing in the back of her mind like radio static. Or... was it in the radio static?

“Oh, shut up, already,” she muttered, rolling her eyes beneath closed lids as she hunkered down further into the passenger’s seat.

“What?”

Mae cracked open an eye, sliding her gaze over to the driver. To her best friend. To... a really complicated feeling she wasn’t quite sure she had entirely narrowed down yet, and had hoped the road trip would maybe help with, but...

“Nothing,” she replied as Beatrice quirked a brow. With a groaning yawn, she scrubbed at her face with her stubby hands and sat up straighter. “Are we there yet?”

“Oh, yes,” Beatrice drawled, lit cigarette dangling from between her lips. Mae always wondered how she managed to keep it there without it falling out and burning them all alive. Maybe it would, one day. Fire ghost. “We’ve driven all this way to be in a different middle of nowhere. Oops. Missed the turn. Guess we have to just keep driving.”

“Aaaaauuugh, Beatrice!” Mae groaned. “I’m so bored!”

“What did you expect?”

“I dunno! Fun times! Doing stuff! Seeing things!”

“Well. We’re doing stuff, technically. Driving. Trying to find radio stations that actually work. And we sure have seen some things. Remember that old lady at the gas station?”

“Oh. Oh, yeah. Wow. Did she really have a peg leg?”

“She sure did, Mae. She sure did.”

“And her eye was all... all... You know?” Mae gestured broadly with her hands, flailing them in an utterly nondescript way. Beatrice didn’t take her eyes off the road.

“Mm-hmm...”

Silence hung between them, and Mae slowly lowered her arms as she sunk back into her seat. She really didn’t know what she had expected. There were fun times, sure--a few jokes at other peoples’ expense, a little bit of shoplifting that turned into a whole lot of very sneaky reverse-shoplifting at Bea’s behest, a whole lot of cows... so many cows. But things were... weird. Everything was still so weird.

She pressed her face to the window, staring out at the dusky landscape as stars began to peek out in the deep reds and violets that heralded the end of another day. They would have to find somewhere to rest, soon, but... well, she hadn’t seen even a crappy little motel for miles. It was like they had left what little civilization was left around Possum Springs and found the Nothingness that lingered at the edges of the rural countryside. Even the cows no longer dotted the horizon, and there were no fences to delineate where people had attempted to tame the uncaring world. It was all... just shapes. But not, she thought, in the same way that college had been shapes. Not in the same way that Andy Cullen’s beaten-in head had been splattering red shapes all over the green triangles that cut up from the ground like tiny knives.

These were shapes in the same way that the view from the high tower in Jenny’s Field had been. A patchwork, pulling together to make some sort of whole that made sense, even with all the disparate parts. She closed her eyes, and the shapes remained. She took a deep breath.

“Well,” Bea said as the last traces of light faded over the horizon, “it’s officially darker than my outlook on society out here.” Her lips twitched slightly in a smile as she glanced over at Mae. Mae raised her head and smiled back, though there was still a fuzziness around the edges of her world that made her nervous. “You think we’re going to run into anywhere decent to stop?”

“Uhhh... Probably not? I don’t think I’ve even seen a town sign for, like... God, hours? Where even are we?”

“And we thought Possum Springs was in the middle of nowhere,” Bea drawled, worrying the cigarette in her mouth for a moment as she stared out at the dark road ahead.

“I know,” Mae said after a brief moment had passed. She scratched at her jaw as she looked out into the black nothingness that had enveloped the car, leaving nothing but the faded brilliance of the starry sky overhead. “You know, I used to... I used to get kinda creeped out in the big parking lot, over by the Food Donkey. It’s just--you know, this big, abandoned thing, and then this big ol’ parking lot. There’s a sky, and some lights that only kinda work, but... I mean, it’s just... nothing. But this is... I dunno. It’s different.”

Bea nodded, shifting her grip on the wheel as she let out a long sigh.

“Kinda makes you wonder, doesn’t it?” She asked.

“Wonder what?”

“What any of it matters. I mean, people make such a big deal about living in cities, and things being crowded out there, and overpopulation, but... I don’t think I’ve seen a single person since that gas station awhile back.”

“And who knows if that was even really a person, right? I mean, come on.”

Bea chuckled, unable to help cracking a grin at the comment.

“Yeah. That’s fair. Point is, anyway... all the problems that felt so big, even back in Possum Springs... My dad, the store, all that history and weird shit... I dunno. It all feels a lot smaller out here. And I’m not sure how I feel about that.”

“Yeah,” Mae replied, blinking large eyes into the darkness as she stared up at the stars. Familiar patterns shone down on her. “Yeah, no. I get it. Totally.”

Another long silence. Mae fidgeted awkwardly in her seat. What had made her think this would be a good idea? What made any of this feel okay? What if--what if--...? Just as panic was beginning to tear at the edges of her mind, the car slowed. Mae blinked, flicking her eyes to her friend as she pulled the car off to the side of the road.

“Uh... Bea?”

“What? I’m tired,” Beatrice replied, shifting the car into park and letting out a long sigh as she cracked her knuckles.

“...Are we gonna sleep in the car?”

“We are definitely going to sleep in the car,” Bea replied at length, stretching to try and work the kinks out of her spine from so many hours of sitting. “First, though, I gotta get out for a minute. Stretch my legs.”

“Oh, hell yes.”

The sound of two car doors opening and then slamming shut broke the eerie silence that washed over them as they stepped out into the night.

“Just... stay close to the car, okay? No wandering off.”

“I won’t. Feels like a zombie movie. You know, like that really awful one that came out, like, three years ago?”

“Oh, what, that terrible Zombicles thing?”

“Uggggh yes. That was so bad!”

“Didn’t they make the zombies, like... bright green? And they were robots or something at the end?”

“Yes!!! It was awful! 'Beep-boop, give me your cyber-brains...'”

Beatrice laughed, leaning her back against the car door as Mae circled around to sit on the hood beside her. The wind was cool in the warm summer air, and Mae let her eyes slide shut as it rustled over her. For once, the silence that settled between the two of them didn’t feel so oppressive. Maybe it had just been the car. Stupid car.

“Hey, Mae?”

Her eyes snapped open again. She slowly looked over at Bea, tensing up a bit.

“Uh... yeah?”

There was a pause. A moment of hesitation. Finally, Bea took a long drag off her cigarette and flicked it to the ground, stubbing it out with her heavy black boot.

“...Did you really mean what you said, right after all that weird shit went down?”

“Uhhh... I said a lot of things... like, that whole messaging situation was just... oh, geez, I don’t even want to think about it. That was embarrassing.”

Bea chuckled.

“Yeah, that was... interesting. But, no, I meant... back at the band practice. When you said you wanted to go on this probably ill-advised road trip that we took anyway.”

“Oh. Um. Well...” Mae rubbed at her neck and looked away. “I mean. Yeah? Like... God. I don’t know.”

Beatrice nodded, as if somehow she found meaning in the disjointed babble that spewed from Mae’s lips like idiot fireworks. Big ol’ beacons that read: Mae Borowski is an idiot and a screw-up that can’t say words right!

“Ehh,” Beatrice finally groaned, turning to open the back door of the car. “There’s really no good way to sleep in a car, is there? Front seats don’t recline enough. Back is so damn short...”

“I’m short,” Mae added, hopping off the hood of the car. Beatrice leveled a long-suffering stare her way.

“Yes. You are. I’m not.”

“Oh. Right. Uhhh... keep the door open?”

Beatrice rubbed at her face and sighed.

“I dunno. I can probably deal.” She reached in, fumbled around a bit, and managed to find the latch that flipped down the rear seats.

Now, at least, there was a little more room with the trunk added in... but only when Bea moved their two small bags that held all their essentials to the front seats and freed up what little space there was in the already cramped compartment. Once she was more or less satisfied with the way things had shaped up, Bea climbed in and made herself as comfortable as she could manage in the tight space available.

“All right,” she called, barely visible as her head poked out from beneath the lining of the trunk. “Your turn, Maeday. Just... watch it, okay?”

“Oh. Oh! Uh, yeah, sure,” Mae muttered, awkwardly scooching her way into the space beside Beatrice and reaching over to pull the door shut. The two young women fidgeted and shifted, squirming around as they desperately tried to find some semblance of a comfortable position before finally coming to rest side-by-side, Mae’s head tucked close against Bea’s shoulder.

The silence that followed was incredibly awkward. Mae swore she could feel her heartbeat pounding in her ears. And her toes. And everywhere else. Or maybe it was Beatrice’s heartbeat? They were really close, now. Mae swallowed hard to try and get rid of the lump that had suddenly formed in her throat.

“...You remember when we were in Scouts, and we had that one camping trip that wasn’t really much of a camping trip?” Bea asked, her voice oddly quiet in their narrow sleeping quarters.

“Uh... y-yeah, kinda,” Mae replied, ear twitching as she tried her best to look up at Beatrice from the awkward position they were in.

“This kinda reminds me of that. We were practically sharing a sleeping bag.” Bea’s lips quirked in a smile. “God. We were really stuck together back then.”

“Yeah. We kinda were, huh?”

“...Hey, Mae?”

“Huh?”

“Why did we stop talking? Or, well... really, why did you decide to be such a huge dick and not reply to any of my messages? Or phone calls? Or anything?”

Mae felt herself flush in the darkness as Bea’s eyes fell on her like a ton of bricks. How did she even start to explain that one? She had fallen in with Gregg, and Bea had kept on the Straight and Narrow path of Academics while her own grades steadily kept slipping into the territory of Firmly Average (And Kinda Below Average Actually). The grades had started slipping before Gregg, though. Everything had started slipping long before everything became shapes, became a struggle to recognize what was actually a thing that really existed in her world. Bea existed. Bea had always existed. Bea was... a very complicated existence, in Mae’s world. The smell of cigarette smoke hung on the black shirt she wore...

“Well?” There was the tone. The infamous Beatrice Santello is Getting Tired of Putting Up With Your Shit tone. Mae winced slightly, letting out a groan as she did her best to roll over onto her other side.

“God, I don’t know! That was, like, forever ago! I was a dumb kid! I still am a dumb kid!”

Bea scoffed, and Mae grimaced.

“Please. You’re not as stupid as you like to pretend you are, Mae Borowski.”

The full name. Mae grit her teeth, baring them in a raw semblance of a smile.

“I dunno, you’re pretty fond of pointing out how dumb I am all the time.”

That hit home. Silence grew like thunder on the horizon before a terrible storm.

“Fine. Whatever.” The creaking of a car as Beatrice struggled to roll over, placing them back to back. Building a wall that didn’t really exist, and yet was as huge and intimidating as the pixelated blood walls in Demontower.

It hurt. The silence hurt. Mae half-laughed to herself, remembering what she had yelled to the void when it had threatened to consume her in the foot of mine water after the cave in. She had wanted it to hurt. Hurting meant that it meant something.

“What’s so damn funny?” Beatrice snapped.

“I dunno,” Mae said after a moment. “Everything. Us. We’re acting like twelve-year-olds again.”

“You’re acting like a twelve-year-old. I’m trying to figure things out. Like an adult.”

Mae sighed, rubbing her face. Bea pressed on with her sharp-tongued assault.

“Sometimes I think you’re different, like you’re making some kind of breakthrough or something. But, no, it’s just Mae Borowski, the asshole who never knows anything and says stupid shit all the time--”

“It’s because I liked you, okay?! Geez,” Mae shouted, cutting off the rant before it could reach its usual fever pitch.

Bea’s words ground to a halt, and Mae could practically feel the confused gears grinding.

“Wait... what?”

“Yeah! I said it! I liked you! A lot! And it was really confusing because you didn’t like girls or whatever! And you were doing so good at school and I kept getting so distracted and I just felt... like... I dunno,” she muttered, her voice growing quieter as she continued to ramble on. “Like... maybe I wasn’t good enough to hang out with you anymore? Like I’d just... pull you in to this vacuum of suck. And I’d make things awkward, and you’d hate me, and... and...”

The car shifted again, and Mae closed her eyes tight when she felt the light touch of a hand on her arm. Her breath trembled.

“Mae... Seriously? All of that drama over...?”

“Yeah! I mean... I don’t know how to deal with this kind of stuff, okay?!”

Beatrice scoffed a laugh, though it wasn’t a harsh sound. Mae’s ear twitched.

“Yeah. That’s obvious. Seriously, though. Come on. Look at me.”

Mae hesitated. She really did not want to do that. That was not a thing she was sure she could do without freaking out and maybe crying or something. But Beatrice’s hand grasped her arm a little more tightly, and she eventually forced herself to roll over. Her eyes darted around, trying to look anywhere but Beatrice’s face.

“So... you liked me back then, huh?”

“Yeah. I literally just said that. Geez, Bea, don’t make this worse than it already is...”

“Do you... still like me?”

Mae blinked, her eyes snapping to meet her friend’s, barely visible in the dark.

“Wh--I... uh... I-I don’t know...”

Bea didn’t look away. She just watched, looking on with that cool, analytical stare thing that she did so well. She had done that even as a kid, Mae remembered. It was one of the things she had really liked about her.

“You know... that actually makes a lot of sense. Is that why you wanted to hang out so much when you came back home? Even when I was a totally no-fun asshole to you?”

“Uh... maybe...?”

“Heh. Maybe.”

Mae blinked, then suddenly felt herself blushing when she remembered her stupid little doodle in her stupid little journal. Beatrice Santello. MaeBea.

“Oh, God.”

Beatrice laughed, and Mae let out a long groan as she pulled her hands up to hide her face.

“Of course you’d like me just because our names made a horrible pun. Of course you would do that.”

“It’s a pretty good pun, at least,” Mae offered from behind her hands, eyes still shut tight.

“I mean, as far as puns go...” Beatrice said, letting the end of her sentence trail off. Mae could feel her friend regarding her in the dark, and she felt like her guts were all squirming around inside her. The hand came up again, gently prying her own away from her face, and Mae slowly cracked open her eye to look at her friend again.

“Would you... would you hate me if I did like you, still? Like... would... would that make things really bad and awkward?”

Bea continued to examine her, and Mae found that she couldn’t help but look back, now, waiting for an answer she felt like she had been waiting for since she was a kid, back in seventh grade.

“No,” Bea answered finally, rolling the word on her tongue as if she was considering its flavor. “I don’t think so.”

“Well. Then. Uh... yeah? I still... kinda... sorta... I mean, does it even matter? Are you even...?”

“I never really thought about it,” came the reply, a slender shoulder shrugging beneath a long black shirt. “But... well...”

Mae’s breath hitched in her throat.

“Maybe I should.”

Oh, God.

“I mean... okay, let’s be real for a second here, I’ve been... kind of thinking about it a lot, after all that shit we went through, and what you said. I sort of suspected, but...”

Oh, God .

Mae laughed nervously--her default defense mechanism, laugh it all off, it’s just a big old dumb joke! Just like the rest of her whole life!--but then there was Bea, right there in front of her, not shapes at all, and her hand was still on her arm and burning her like fire and... and she couldn’t help but remember that Bea had been the one, through all of that shitty horror night when her head had felt like it was going to crack like an egg, that had been right beside her. Bea had been the one that held her when the whole world shook and went black. She hiccuped on the breath she was half-holding, feeling like she was choking back a sob.

This time, there was no hesitation. Bea pulled her closer, wrapped her up in a warm hug, and Mae lost it. Her hands grabbed fistfuls of that damned black ankh shirt, and she buried her face into Beatrice’s shoulder as she sobbed.

“Shhh... hey, it’s okay,” Beatrice whispered, hugging Mae tighter. “It’s okay. I don’t hate you.”

Mae mumbled something incoherent--even she didn’t know what the hell she was trying to say at this point--and sucked in a breath that burned all the way down. Even now, Beatrice held her. Even now, it was Beatrice that helped hold all her pieces together when she felt like she was falling apart.

“And, hey, if we’re being honest and spilling our guts out tonight,” Bea continued, her usual sardonic tone somehow calming, “I, uh... I think I like you, too.”

Mae stifled her sobs. Slowly, she looked up at Beatrice, swimming in her own sea of confusion as she swore she saw, even through the heavy darkness of the backseat of the car, her usually stoic and badass friend... blushing?

“Y-You... what?”

“Geez, you heard me,” Bea muttered, rolling her eyes as she looked askance.

Mae was quiet for a moment, her large eyes still shimmering with tears, and then laughed.

“Oh, my God. Can you not?”

“Ha ha ha! Oh my God, Bea! We’re so stupid!”

In spite of her annoyance, Bea cracked a broad grin.

“Hey, speak for yourself.”

Mae only continued to laugh. Her sides ached, but it was a good ache. It hurt... and it hurt because it meant something. It meant so much.

“Oh, would you shut up?” Beatrice grumbled, though Mae could hear the smile in her voice. Before she could respond, however, Bea’s lips pressed up against her own, silencing any snarky remarks she could have come up with. Slowly, Mae’s fists loosened, and she shifted to wrap her arms around Beatrice as best she could, clinging tightly to her as her whole world rocked and threatened to roll away from her.

God... Whatevergod... don’t let this be a dream.

This time, she didn’t wreck everything. It was slow, and a bit timid, and a little bit awkward, but...

“Wow,” Mae murmured as Beatrice finally pulled away.

“Yeah,” her friend muttered in reply, voice a bit huskier than Mae remembered. “Wow.”

Mae couldn’t help but snicker as she snuggled in closer.

“You liiiiike me...”

“Oh my God, shut up.”

“Maebea I will, Maebea I won’t!”

“I will leave your ass out here,” Bea threatened, though her smile took the sharpness from it.

Mae only laughed some more, then yawned as all of the stress and tension slowly faded out of her, leaving her tired--exhausted, really--but... happy. Happier than she’d been in a long time.

Beatrice let out a soft sigh, and Mae found herself smiling into the familiar black fabric of that stupid ankh shirt from URev.

“Sleep well, Maeday.”

“Mm-hmm.” A moment’s hesitation. Delirium that bordered the edge of sleep. ‘Risk-seeking behavior.’

Eff it.

“Love you, BeeBee.”

She could feel the smile in the way that Beatrice pulled her closer, and that was all that mattered.

Sometimes you screamed into the void, and sometimes... sometimes, the void screamed back. The answer was usually garbage, garbled and nonsense, but sometimes you got something wonderful out of it, instead. Sometimes, you got Beatrice Santello, curled up with you in the back seat of a car in the middle of bum-fuck nowhere, where no one was there to see except for the ancient stories of dead people that formed the lines between stars...

...and that was enough.

Chapter Text

The road wound and curved through trees that looked impossibly tall, their roots stubbornly sinking in to the stony outcrops of the mountains that jutted out like the teeth of some great monster on either side of them. Bea's knuckles were white around the wheel as she guided the car around hairpin turns where, on the other side of the road, the guard rail dipped and left them exposed to the nearly infinite expanse of sky that yawned all around them. One wrong move... She swallowed hard as she eased up on the brake and lightly tapped on the gas on the outside of the turn. Mae was quiet, for once, wide eyes staring off into the landscape.

It was strange, she thought, how little things really changed. The area was foreign, and yet strangely familiar; they had come from a forested valley only to wind their way through forested mountains, thick and green with summer foliage—but the familiarity kept her on edge. It was like... like looking into the face of an animatronic person and knowing, somewhere deep in the back of your mind, that this wasn't actually a real thing. She could almost understand what Mae had been raving about before, back when... God. She didn't want to think about it, now.

“Hey, Bea?”

She loosened her grip on the steering wheel a bit as the road leveled off. It wasn't going to last, though; they still had a long way before they were out of these damned mountains.

“Yeah?”

“I, uh... I kinda have to...”

Bea glanced over at Mae.

“What?”

“I gotta pee.”

“...Seriously?”

“What?! I just drank that whole soda!”

Beatrice let out a long-suffering sigh, closing her eyes for a brief second.

“Fine. Hope you're not expecting a bathroom around here.”

“No, no, no. It's cool. Lots of bushes.”

“Mm-hmm.”

Thankfully, there was a pull-off not far ahead. Beatrice stopped the car, and Mae promptly hopped out to go rushing off over the guard rail. She chuckled as she popped her aching knuckles, shaking her head slightly as she leaned back in her seat. Her fingers moved almost automatically to reach for her lighter and pack of cigarettes, and she grimaced when she noticed how her hands were trembling as she lit up.

“Damn it,” she hissed to herself, taking a deep drag off the cigarette as she got out of the car to stretch her legs. “Get a grip, Beatrice. Just a few more hours.”

She rubbed at her face as her cigarette dangled from between her lips, and turned to lean heavily on the car behind her. It was... weird, all of a sudden, to not have Mae in close proximity. Her eyes flicked up toward the thick undergrowth, and she hesitated a moment as a touch of fear snaked its way up along her spine.

“...Mae?”

“Yeah?” Came the distant call—though not too far from where she was standing.

Immediately, she relaxed a little bit.

“You almost done?”

“Yeah! Saw a cool bird, too. I think it was a hawk, maybe? Or a vulture. Probably a vulture, waiting to snack on my dead carcass. I probably look pretty dead. Yeesh.”

Beatrice rolled her eyes, though a smile tugged at the corner of her lips.

“Same. Who knew that hours and hours on end of driving could be so killer?”

“Right?”

Footsteps came crunching toward her, and then there was Mae, hopping back over the guardrail with a broad grin on her face.

“Miss me?”

“Oh, yes,” Beatrice drawled, giving Mae a flat look. “How I ever survived those five minutes alone, I'll never know...”

Mae laughed, then moved to sit next to Bea on the hood of the car, legs dangling over the edge and not quite reaching the ground. Beatrice took another long drag off her cigarette, turning away to look back into the trees in silence.

She didn't honestly know how to handle whatever was going on between them, now. In the books and movies, when two people admitted any kind of feelings, it always meant the story was close to ending, and the two were left in this weird sort of limbo, drifting off into some kind of happy, hazy sunset together. But... well, real life was definitely not like the stories they told to children. Real life continued long after The Big Talk, and... well... they never told her what came next. Her mom and dad had always existed together, permanently married. Even stories about how they had met had the same conclusion: they fell in love, got married, and there they were.

But what was this? They had said the words, and things had, in theory, changed, but... So much of it was still the same.

“Bea? You okay?”

“Hm?” She blinked, turning her head to look at her friend—her... more-than-a-friend?--and shifted to push herself off the car. “Oh. Yeah. Just... tired.”

“Still? I thought maybe you'd be less tired, getting away from the Pickaxe.”

“Well, yeah. Different kind of tired, Maeday,” she replied at length, turning to open the car door—only to blink when Mae suddenly rested her hand on her arm.

“You don't... like... want to go back, do you? Was this a bad idea?”

She considered it for a moment, her eyes meeting Mae's and seeing the anxiety practically floating around behind that wide-eyed gaze.

“...No. This is good. Driving's just hard work through these damn mountains.”

“Oh. You want me to drive for awhile?”

Mae waggled her eyebrows, that sly smile returning to her face, and Bea snorted a laugh.

“Yeah, no. You'd drive us straight off the edge of the cliff.”

“Would not. I'd be a great driver!”

“Uh-huh. Just like you're a great bass player?”

“Hey! That's totally different!”

Bea laughed, and Mae smiled as she hopped off the hood of the car.

“You think we're gonna hit a town, soon? I'm getting pretty hungry,” Mae continued as she walked around to open the passenger door. “Could go for some tacos...”

“I doubt there are going to be tacos,” Beatrice replied, lowering herself back into the driver's seat with a sigh. “But we can hope.”

She turned the key, and the engine grumbled as it returned reluctantly to life. As they pulled away from the guard rail and back onto the main road, Mae shifted to lean her head against Beatrice's shoulder. Beatrice blinked and glanced down at her, but said nothing even as a small smile crept onto her lips. Maybe some things had changed, after all.

--~*o0o*~--

They had stopped in a small town and walked around awhile, taking in all the curious sights the buildings nestled in the mountains had to offer. There had been a little artist colony, selling all sorts of weird little curios, and there was a coal mine museum, which Mae and Beatrice had firmly avoided (Mae had had a minor panic attack on seeing it, and Beatrice had felt sick to her stomach as she led them in the opposite direction). They had eaten in a little diner, filled up on gas and snacks at a nearby gas station, and, by the time they were ready to get back on the road, the sun was already setting.

This time, Mae did not lean her head against Beatrice's shoulder. This time, neither of them said much as the car twisted its way through the ominous mountain roads. The mine had soured the air, brought up too many bad memories; Mae had hardly touched her food, and Beatrice was well aware that that meant trouble. Still, they had miles to go before they reached their ultimate destination. She had considered stopping there for the night, staying in that little mountain town—but Mae didn't like the mine. Beatrice couldn't blame her. Not after what had happened in Possum Springs.

“Bea?”

“Hmm?” She glanced over at Mae, quirking a brow.

“...Do you think we're murderers?”

Bea's heart dropped slightly, and her grip tightened on the wheel. The elevator in the mines came flooding back to her memory. She had been holding Mae, trying desperately to pull her away from the bastard that had grabbed her, and... she remembered the sickening scream of the elevator as everything rumbled around them, remembered the spray of blood only dimly visible in the darkness as the cultist's arm was sheared off...

“...No. No, they were, Mae. They tried—he tried to kill you.”

“Yeah... and Casey... but... I still dream about it, you know? Horrible dreams. Stuck in the bottom of an old mine. No air. No way out. Just... nothing. Waiting to die.”

Beatrice grimaced, looking over at Mae, who had already closed her eyes and curled up as best she could in the seat beside her.

“Mae, it wasn't your fault.”

“Ha. Wasn't it? I mean... I'm the one that started... seeing things. Talking about ghosts, and... and... poking my nose into things where it didn't belong. I'm the one that... dragged you, and Gregg, and Angus into it. We all almost died. If Angus hadn't found the way outta that mine...”

“Hey. It's okay,” Beatrice replied, reaching over to grab Mae's shoulder as her other hand remained on the wheel. “We all made it. Traumatized, maybe, but... I mean, therapy can totally take care of that. So long as it's not, y'know, Dr. Hank's therapy.”

Mae let out a little laugh, and Beatrice smiled.

“God. Dr. Hank is the worst at therapy.”

“Yeeeah... to be fair, he's not really great at anything.”

“He is the World's Okayest Doctor.”

Suddenly, things were very bright in the inside of the car. Beatrice blinked and jerked her head up just as Mae hollered. A pair of headlights was staring them down like the horrible, unblinking eyes of some eldritch abomination. Beatrice jerked the wheel. The car swerved just as the coal truck whizzed by them, horn yowling like a furious beast. There was a bang, a sudden rumble in the chassis that wasn't there before—and Beatrice cursed as she wrangled the now-unruly car down another sharp turn. Her eyes flicked back and forth with desperation until finally settling on a small strip of land just on the side of the road. She pulled off, slammed on the brakes, and quickly shoved the stick into park just as her whole body began to shake.

“Oh my God,” Mae half-whispered, her voice hoarse from screaming—had she been screaming the whole time? Beatrice couldn't remember. “B-Beatrice? You okay?”

Beatrice couldn't respond. She closed her eyes tight, her hands clutching at her face as she felt the butt of her cigarette fall from her lips. Her breathing was short and ragged. Get it together, Beatrice, she told herself, even as a million other thoughts raced screaming through her mind. Get it together. You can not afford to fall apart right now.

“Bea?” Mae's voice was quivering.

Beatrice sucked in a deep breath and slowly dropped her hands from her face, her boot moving to crush the dying embers of her cigarette against the rubberized plastic mat at her feet.

“I think we have a flat tire,” she said, her voice flat and emotionless. “That's what that pop was. Probably hit something when I swerved.”

“...Oh. Uh... can we fix that? With, like... I dunno... um... tape? Or something?”

Beatrice scoffed, half-laughing, and opened her door.

“You don't fix a flat with tape. I've got a spare tire.”

“Oh. Oh, right. Uh... can I help?”

She hesitated, fingers still wrapped around the handle of her door. A sudden flare of anger spiked up in her, seeping through the cracks in the wall she had built around her emotions.

“Do you know how to change a tire, Mae?” Her voice was sharp, curt. Mae recoiled a bit, and she found herself feeling a sick sense of satisfaction at the movement. “Do you know how to do anything useful in this situation? Anything that could possibly help me out, here?”

“I... uh... no?”

“Yeah. That's what I thought. Just... stay in the car,” Beatrice grumbled, getting up out of the car and slamming her door behind her.

She moved around to the back of the car, kicking open the trunk to find the tire iron and jack she kept for emergencies. She grabbed it, circling around the car before finding the offending tire and getting to work on removing it—one of the few useful things her dad had gotten around to showing her before her whole life had gone to shit. The spare was under the car, and it was hell getting it loose and shoving the heavy thing into place, but after a little more than half an hour's work of fumbling around in the darkness, she had managed to get everything back together again.

It would have been easier with Mae's help. She glanced up toward the car again when she came to the dull realization that Mae had actually followed her instructions, for once, and had not left the car at all. She was still sitting there, curled up in the passenger's seat, unmoving.

Guilt tugged at her, and Beatrice sighed as she rubbed at her face with dirty hands before slowly getting up and moving back to slump down into the driver's seat once more. Mae looked at her for a moment, then looked away, staring off silently into the darkness of the mountains.

“...Well. The tire's fixed,” Bea began, leaning back into her seat as she stared out through the windshield.

“Okay. Cool.”

Silence hung between them the way cigarette smoke seemed to hang in the air on a still night. Beatrice sighed, shoulders slumping a bit as tension seeped out of her bones.

“...Sorry. I shouldn't have been an asshole to you like that.”

“It's okay,” Mae muttered. “It was my fault.”

“No, it wasn't. I should've been, you know, actually paying attention to the road while driving. Kind of the basics of learning how to drive.”

“Yeah, but... I was being distracting. Or whatever. And you were right. I mean, I don't know how to change a tire. Or drive. Or anything. I can't... help with anything. I'm kinda useless.”

“You're not useless.”

“Name one thing I can actually do right.”

“...Well...”

“See? I suck. I'm total garbage.”

“No, you're not. You can learn how to do stuff like that. Nobody's ever taught you, is all,” Beatrice replied at length, looking over at Mae with a small frown as her own words hit her. No one had ever shown Mae how to drive. Or change a tire. Or... how to survive as an adult. They had sent her off to college, knowing that she had the issues she had, and then... what? Expected her to just deal? Get a job? Be a normal, functioning adult with none of the training?

“...You think I could? Learn it, I mean.”

“Yeah. I mean, you're not stupid.”

Mae blinked, shifting to look at her, and Beatrice quirked an eyebrow at her.

“You really mean that? You think I'm smart?”

“Well... yeah? I mean, maybe you're not, like... go-to-college smart, or valedictorian smart, but... Not everyone has to be. You're smart in your own way.”

There was a pause, and she could tell Mae was trying to figure out whether or not to be insulted by what she had just said. It wasn't exactly the most eloquent of statements, after all, but... hell, she was tired.

“Huh. Well, I'll take it. Hey, you think you could maybe, uh... show me? How to change a tire? Maybe you could teach me how to drive!”

Beatrice chuckled at this, rolling her eyes.

“You know what? Sure. I mean, driving is gonna have to wait until we're not in these horrible freaking hills, but I can show you how to change a tire and stuff.”

She could have sworn Mae lit up like the Fourth of July. Immediately, all of that restless energy and enthusiasm bubbled back into place, buoying her up like she had never been down in the first place. Beatrice envied her that; she had never been able to bounce back as quickly as Mae Borowski could.

“Great! I'll teach you stuff, too, maybe!”

“Oh? Like what?”

“I dunno! I'll figure it out, though! Gotta be something I know that you don't, right? I mean. Maybe? Whatever, I'll teach you something!”

“How to play bass really badly?”

“Hey!!!”

Beatrice laughed, and Mae laughed with her after a moment of pretending to be angry. It was still strange to her how little things changed. Mae was still Mae, with all of her issues, and Beatrice... well, she was still Beatrice, with all sorts of issues of her own. But then Mae pulled her into a hug—a bit of an awkward, sideways hug, reaching across the gearshift and the gap between their seats—and Beatrice found herself leaning into it in a way she never would have, before. Her arms came up to wrap around Mae the best they were able, and she closed her eyes as she let the last bits of her stress and tension flow out of her.

Perhaps change was a little more complicated than she'd first thought. Perhaps change wasn't the big, earth-shattering moments like a mother's death or almost being killed in the mines. Change, she thought, was really all about what stayed the same; after all, here they were, relying on one another like they had even years ago, back when they were both just awkward kids. It was different, perhaps, but... really, it was still the same.

“I'm sorry,” Mae whispered, and Beatrice rolled her eyes.

“Don't,” she replied, tightening her hold on her friend—friend above all else, no matter what may have changed between them—and looking her in the eye. “This is just life.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. Shit happens. It's how you deal with it that matters.”

“Oh. I'm, like... super bad at dealing with things.”

“Eh. Live and learn.”

Mae grinned, and Beatrice grinned back.

“...Does this mean we're gonna sleep in the car again?”

Reality slapped her in the face once again, and Beatrice groaned as she released her hold on Mae. The other young woman laughed, and Beatrice found herself smiling in spite of it all.

“I take it that's a yes.”

“...Yep. I doubt we'll get to a motel before I pass out at the wheel. Oof.”

“Think of it like a super lame slumber party, Bea!”

“Ugh. That does not help,” she grumbled as she opened the door to go and get the back seat all set up for the night.

“We could roast marshmallows on the exhaust pipe?”

“Ew, no. Gross.”

“Sing campfire songs? Tell ghost stories?”

“Oh my God. Just get over here.”

“Oh! I know! We could talk about who we have a crush on! I'll go first: she's kinda tall, smokes like a freight train...”

Beatrice leveled a flat look in her direction, and Mae laughed as she hopped into the back seat and squirmed her way back toward the trunk, leaving Beatrice with the more open space for extra leg room. Bea crawled in beside her, hooking her boot on the door to pull it closed as they got settled in together.

“She's pretty cute, though,” Mae added, grinning. “Got that Goth aesthetic going.”

Bea only rolled her eyes, though she felt her cheeks burning slightly in the dark.

“Oh my God, shut up and go to sleep, you weirdo,” she said, letting her eyes droop shut as Mae snuggled in closer. Her friend snickered a little, but ultimately fell quiet as they lay together, cramped up in the back seat of her car once more.

The more things changed, she thought to herself as she began to drift off to sleep, the more they stayed the same. Mae's hand sought out her own, and Beatrice sighed softly as their fingers twined together in the darkness. Exhaustion fell heavy over her, made her bones ache... but thank God, she thought, that her father had shown her how to change a tire. Thank God she had all the ability to do whatever she wanted to do, even if it sometimes felt like she was drowning in the chains of her responsibilities back home.

...and thank God she had Mae Borowski to fall back on.

Chapter Text

When they finally got out of the mountains, reaching the flatness of the plains that stretched all across the American Midwest, Mae felt like she was going to be gobbled up by the endless expanse of sky at any moment. For awhile, there was nothing to see but tall rows of corn—she'd tried to talk Beatrice into grabbing some, but Bea wasn't big on quote 'robbing' unquote farmers, even though Mae was pretty sure they wouldn't miss a few ears—and the eerie stillness of the cloudless blue sky. Mae had wanted to see it. She remembered mentioning it, back when she had first introduced the idea, and again when she and Bea had half-assed planned the whole trip. She had thought that maybe getting away from the valley and the woods would have done her some good, but... it left her feeling exposed. Restless. She could understand the old cowboy songs, now—but she didn't know how they could stand it.

Give me land, lots of land, under starry skies above... don't fence me in... God. What she wouldn't give for a couple of fences right about now, just to prove that the rest of the world still existed.

The two of them talked a little, though breaking the silence and stillness of the land around them felt... wrong, somehow, and their conversations always fizzled out before they ever really got started. It didn't help that Mae was distracted. Her mind kept trying to wrap itself around the emptiness, grasped wildly at nonsensical road signs—God is coming! Bring 'em in, bring 'em in! Grandpa's Cheese Barn! World's Best Fudge!—and the sight of a few fallen-in houses before seething like boiling water when she was tossed back into nothingness. Emptiness. Nothing but road, and crops that had to have been cared for by someone, but where were they? Where did they live? Where did they go?

It was like driving through the end of the world.

It was like driving through one of her worst nightmares, where all that was left of Possum Springs, all that was left of her home, were piles of sand and mailboxes standing neatly at attention, marking the empty space where houses had been.

She closed her eyes, hugging herself tight.

She dreamed.

-~*o0o*~-

Running. Always running. Through the stars, across endless plains, over hills that rose and fell in the tumult of oblivion. There was nothing. There was nothing, and she could feel the hole at her heels, threatening to pull her back in.

She could hear him singing.

I don't know if there is a God, Pastor K's voice rung out, hollow and echoing through the abyss. I like to think that there is...

She shook her head as she ran harder, the song swelling in a terrible crescendo. Coming... coming from the hole, she realized. He was still alive, down there. He was still angry. He was still so angry, even after one by one, old men that had served him threw themselves into his waiting maw, hoping to hold him over until the inevitable. Hoping to expedite their own end. It wasn't enough. It would never be enough. There were no words to the song; it was all just... garbage. Radio static, with just the barest hints of sound coming through.

Had a dream the world was ending... do you think we're safe?

Bea's voice. She stopped, grimacing, and slowly turned to face the hole. Her entire body trembled.

“Why won't you just leave me alone?” She yelled into the void.

It yelled back in a deafening vibrato, and she clutched at her head as her knees gave out.

Black Goat. Not even black like the color, black like the space between the stars, the old cultist's voice echoed softly as the horrible din finally subsided. He's down there, in that hole. He don't talk to ya... he... sings...

“I know what you are,” she muttered, shaking her head as she closed her eyes tight within the dream—but it didn't matter. Even with her eyes closed, she saw the stars bursting in the eternally dark sky, saw the hole yawning in front of her, beckoning. “You don't... you don't have to keep reminding me. Just... leave me alone.”

...the end of the world... the voice echoed again, discordant notes sounding behind it.

“No. It's all fine,” Mae argued, clenching her fists. “It's all... right where I left it.”

...end of the world...

“No. No! Shut up!”

It was all just... shapes, the hole taunted, her own voice mocking her now. Something snapped inside her, broke the way it had when she had come to terms with reality and spattered Andy Cullen's head across the field.

Monstrous existence, another voice rumbled, shaking her to the core—and she screamed. She screamed, and laughed, and threw herself into the void. There was a sudden surge of fear—but it was not her own, this time. It was a terrible monster that lived in that pit, but she was determined to be more terrible. Her claws dug into the sides of the hole and dragged, sending sparks shooting through the infinite darkness.

“Screw you, asshole! It's mine! I get to decide what I think! I get to decide what I feel!”

She slashed at the hole itself, and more sparks exploded into brilliance all around her.

Suddenly, it did not seem so big as it once was. She could have sworn, despite all evidence to the contrary, that she saw the bottom. And there, lying in the deepest part of the pit, a strange shape, pathetically twitching, blacker than the blackness that surrounded it, gazing out at her with glowing red eyes. Nightmare eyes. Her... her own eyes.

There was nothing but silence, now. No song. No screaming. Just a strange sort of... softness, as girl and goat regarded one another from across the void. Chills ran up and down her spine, and she felt herself bristling—but she couldn't put a name to the feeling.

The song began anew. She let her eyes close as she held on to the wall of the great hole, her heart beating like a terrible metronome as the tune wrapped itself around her. Her own throat opened, and she sang with it; she sang the song of oblivion, of hunger, of endings and new beginnings.

Possum Springs was dying.

The world as she knew it would never be again.

But... was that such a terrible thing? Was it bad to grow? Bad to change? Perhaps none of it had ever really happened in the first place, not like she imagined it—but hearing it, feeling it, had happened to her... and that was all that mattered.

Hazy shapes replaced the fragmented reality of the dream, and she saw how each individual component, dead and dull, made some kind of living, organic whole. Dead things, uncaring things, the monstrous existence of her apathetic atoms, came together to form her—a living, thinking, feeling being that moved through the world and... and changed it.

The world was ending because of her.

The world was ending in spite of her.

The world was ending.

The world was ending.

...and it was okay.

It was okay. She could... she could let go.

And she did.

And she fell.

-~*o0o*~-

One eye cracked open, and her bleary vision focused on the shapes of the dashboard as the sound of radio static hissed throughout the car. Bea's hand was fiddling restlessly with the knob, and she heard the other woman quietly cursing to herself as she tried to find something that wasn't just horrible noise. Mae smiled to herself as the last fragments of his song faded out of the ringing in her ears. He wasn't gone forever, she knew. None of this was going to save her, forever. But that was fine. She just needed today.

“Where are we?” She murmured, stretching and yawning as her eyes and tired brain tried to work together to make sense of the broken world again, fragmented into blocks and forms and colors. Panic bubbled at the back of her mind—one thing to deal with it in dreams, another to deal with it when she was awake—but she pushed it back. Bea was here. Bea was home.

Beatrice snorted, glancing over at her, and all the shapes that made her slowly coalesced into her. Beatrice Santello, in her long black shirt, cigarette dangling from her mouth.

“Well, look who's finally awake. Thanks, by the way, for abandoning me to drive through hell by myself,” Bea said, sarcasm dripping from her tone. “You missed out on so much. I think I saw potatoes awhile back. And one—one—whole bird.”

“Well, shit,” Mae replied, giving Bea a lopsided grin. “Potatoes and a bird? Gettin' fancy out here.”

“Yup. And you missed it all. Tsk. Now you will never know the wonder and glory of the potato field.”

Mae laughed, and Beatrice let out a low chuckle.

“Seriously, though, I don't know exactly where we are. Road signs are few and far between out in this hellscape. Remind me why you wanted to come out here instead of, like... I don't know. Literally anywhere else?”

“Eh. Big and flat. I just wanted to know what it was like.”

“Well, now you know. And we are both truly enlightened for the experience,” Beatrice drawled, resting one arm on the window ledge while she drove with one hand. “I haven't even seen another car out here for... at least thirty minutes. And they were headed the other way.”

“Yikes.”

“Yeah.”

“Well... it'll be fun when we get there. Wherever we're going. Where are we going, again?”

“We had talked about the Grand Canyon, but I don't much care about giant holes in the ground, these days,” Bea replied, her voice going a bit taut at the mention of holes.

“Yeah... I get that.”

“There's apparently a lot of interesting things to see down south. Mountains with all sorts of different colors, some that have, like... ancient carvings. Even some old ruins the first people left behind, still really well-preserved. I wouldn't mind going and looking at that.”

“...You nerd.”

Beatrice let out an indignant snuffle, raising her chin a bit.

“...I like history.”

Mae laughed again, shaking her head.

“I mean, I'm not complaining. I like weird old stuff. Mostly. So long as it's not, like, old mine carts and rails and dead factories, we're good.”

“Cosigned. I think most of this stuff is prehistoric, anyway. Or, well, pre-history textbooks, anyway. Which, really, history textbooks are awful. So much good stuff left out, like...”

Mae just watched as Beatrice rambled, occasionally making a comment or asking a question of her own, but mostly content just to let the other young woman talk. She was so animated when she talked about this nerd shit—about history, and stories, and scientific finds, and stuff that probably happened but no one could prove it—that, in a strange way, Mae was reminded of her granddad. He would have liked Bea.

Her heart twisted in a strange way at the thought, and a wave of sadness washed over her. How often did Bea even get to talk like this? Mae had always had granddad, and even her parents, encouraging all of her wild dreams (that were usually filled with crime sprees, ghosts, and ghost crimes)... but Beatrice had even said it herself: when Mae had gone off to college and just got older, Bea had had to stay, and grew up. Or, well... she had on the outside. Inside, though? Bea was still just a kid, like her. A weird, smart, nerdy little kid that could have gotten to do so much more if... if...

She sniffled, and Bea quirked a brow at her.

“Uh. I mean... it's not that sad? Yeah, I mean, a lot of people died, but a lot of good stuff followed afterward, so not a total loss...”

Mae blinked, and then let out a little half-laugh.

“Huh? Oh. Oh, no, that's not—I was thinking about something else, sorry.”

“You okay?”

Mae thought about the question for a long time. She thought of her dream, of Beatrice, of wide open land that met the wide open sky.

“...Yeah,” she replied, wiping her eyes hastily with the back of her hand. “Yep. I'm good. You?”

Bea took almost as long to answer, but she eventually took a long drag of her cigarette, slowly exhaled the smoke, and nodded.

“I'm good.”

“Cool. Let's go see some nerd shit!”

Beatrice snorted a laugh, and Mae grinned broadly.

“We've still got, like... several hours before we can see the nerd shit.”

“Ah hell. Then let's play I-Spy! I spy, with my little eye...”

“Seriously? Are you like, eight?”

“Something... green.”

There was a moment of silence. Beatrice stared at Mae in disbelief, and Mae stared back with bright, clear expectation. Finally, Bea heaved a long-suffering sigh and looked around at the vast emptiness of the Midwest.

“Let me guess. It's corn.”

“You are so right! It is totally corn! Which we should take! Because it's right there, Beatrice.”

“No!”

“You know what the Ft. Lucenne fish would say about this!”

“Oh, God, Mae, no—“

“BEATRICE SANTELLO! I COMMAND YOU TO ALLOW MY LOYAL RETAINER TO GRAB SOME DELICIOUS COOORN.”

Beatrice's laughter resounded in the cramped space of the car as Mae held her hands aloft, doing her best to make her voice as thunderous as possible. They argued, girl and Fish-god, for several minutes, but finally the Fish-god won out. Car doors opened, and two figures rushed off into the corn field, snagging as many fresh ears off the roadside stalks as they could carry, and then car doors slammed shut again as the sound of peeling tires and breathless laughter echoed through the empty countryside.

Maybe the world was ending. Maybe everything she knew was going to go away, dissolve into shapes and noise and color, and she'd have to find meaning in the nothingness. But that was all in the future. She didn't need this moment to last forever.

She just needed it to last for today.

Chapter Text

Plains rolled into hills, which gave way to mountains—though these were not the painfully green mountains of the east, like the ones they had been born between, like the ones that they had just driven not too long ago. These were the mountains of the southwest: tall, grand, and eerily flat, their sides painted in a natural acid trip of colors. They had been talking when they had first driven into the mountain range, but they said nothing now, eyes wide as each leaned this way and that, trying to get as good a view as they possibly could.

Sure, they had seen pictures—impossible not to, in this day and age, even somewhere as bass-ackwards as Possum Springs—but there was something wonderful and awe-inspiring about actually being there, about being consumed by the high walls of colored rock and feeling so incredibly tiny that nothing seemed to matter anymore. Beatrice supposed that this was what the old Romantic poets they had studied in school meant when they had used the word sublime to refer to the natural world. This was a land that defied expectations. This was a land where magic was clearly still alive and well.

“God,” Mae finally murmured from her seat, pulling her face away from the window to regard Beatrice from across the car. “It's a lot prettier in person. Have you ever seen a rock that color? Like... I didn't know they came in blue. Or... purple? It's a weird color.”

Beatrice shook her head, then flicked ash from her dying cigarette out the window.

“No. Never. It's... it's something, isn't it?”

“Yeah. Geez. Somebody should go out and paint our mountains and cliffs and stuff. Spruce up the joint,” Mae offered, flopping back into her seat and casting her wide gaze around at the landscape that stretched out before them.

“I think they've tried. There's a shitload of graffiti out there.”

“Oh. Got a point, there. Still, I don't think graffiti really counts. This is like... art-art. Not 'street art' where really you just want to tag yourself and make people freak out.”

“Fair.”

“I bet there's a lot of stories behind this,” Mae said after a moment of oddly reflective silence. “I mean, we put stories in the stars. Why not in painted mountains, right?”

“Oh, no doubt. Maybe some of the monuments'll have some info,” Beatrice replied, already growing excited at the prospect of learning more about the history behind some of this area. Mae smirked from her seat, and Bea could feel her staring. “What?”

“I bet they have... pamphlets.”

“...Look, you would have memorized the damn tourist pamphlets, too,” Bea snorted, though her lips twitched up in a grin.

“You can start a collection! Beatrice Santello's Glorious Informative Pamphlet Emporium!”

Beatrice laughed, shaking her head as she pulled off the Interstate and down a winding road that led them further into the heart of the mountain range.

“You know what? I totally should. Get some culture in Possum Springs.”

“Hell yeah! Culture the eff outta the Pickaxe!”

The two laughed together, the sound echoing strangely in the cramped cabin of the car, before their previous conversation bubbled back to life. They talked about everything, about nothing—very definitely not about one certain topic they were all trying to avoid, all still trying to pretend in fits and bursts had never happened—but mostly, they spoke of mountains and of stories.

“I bet that one is, like... snake-themed. Big Snake in the Mountain,” Mae suggested, pointing out one formation that had drippy color flowing out in a serpentine pattern across the red rock.

Beatrice nodded her approval, for once having not lit a replacement cigarette once her last one had been tossed unceremoniously out the window.

“I could see that.”

“And there's... Bear Rock. See, it looks like a bear all hunched over!”

“Mm-hmm.”

“C'mon, Bea, you gotta name at least one.”

“Oh. Sure, uh...” She glanced around, seeing... rocks. Beautiful rocks, painted rocks, extremely foreign rocks, but... rocks, nonetheless. She grimaced, fingers tightening around the wheel as memories flickered through her head and she tried to force them back down.

“Uh... that one is... I dunno... Devil's Hand,” she muttered, gesturing vaguely at one of the formations that twisted upward in a strange spire with a dead tree clinging stubbornly to the top.

“Oooh, good one. Totally Devil's Hand. You know, my mom and I used to play this game sometimes, on road trips—“

Beatrice's heart twisted suddenly, and she took a deep breath as she trained her eyes hard on the road ahead. Don't say it. Please, don't.

“—where we would, like, look up at the clouds, and figure out what they looked like, and then we'd make up stories about them—“

God damn it.

“—sometimes, we would just try to see who could give dad the creeps first. She usually won. My mom's really, like... freaky good at coming up with super gruesome back stories.”

She remembered picnics. She remembered green grass, blue skies, and fluffy white clouds. She remembered laughter, gentle and light, that wrapped her up like the world's comfiest sweater. She saw entire worlds in the clouds, and they would help each other find the windows into each other's sky-borne visions. There was a dragon, breathing fire! A lion roaring, his mane flowing as the wind carried the clouds away. A mother and a child, holding hands—but then the mother faded away, the merciless wind ripping her apart. A child, standing alone, fading slowly out of existence into the clear stillness of the blue void.

“...Bea?”

Her head snapped up, and she cleared her oddly tight throat.

“Wh-what?” She forced the word out, though her eyes remained firmly trained on the road ahead.

“...Are you, uh... are you okay?”

“I'm fine.”

“You're... kinda crying?”

She blinked, bringing a hand up to wipe at her cheeks, feeling the thin wet trails that a couple of rogue tears had left behind.

“Do you need to stop for a minute, maybe? Like, pull over and rest a minute?”

“No,” Beatrice snapped, her voice coming out sharper than she had meant it. She winced at her own tone, then sighed as she stubbornly scrubbed away the last remnants of the tears. “...I'm fine.”

That said, she jabbed at the radio button, her fingers twitching the knob to find something—anything—that resembled music. All she could find was some half-faded country-western station, with some deep-voiced man singing mournfully about his old hound dog that had been run over by his ex leaving in his pick up truck. She scoffed, unable to help half-laughing at the circumstance.

Mae only tucked herself into her seat, doing her best to not be obvious about staring at Bea—and failing miserably. Beatrice ignored her, though the constant gaze sent prickles of annoyance dancing across her scalp. The girl could be so goddamned thick-headed, sometimes...

“...Is it because of your mom?”

The car screeched to a sudden halt, and Mae yelped as she grabbed hold of the bar over the door. Thankfully, there was little traffic going their way down this little road to the park; Beatrice, however, didn't seem to care. She whirled on Mae, eyes flashing dangerously.

“This is not a conversation we need to be having right now,” she growled, voice taut.

“Uh,” Mae began, clearing her throat as her ear twitched and she leaned away. “I'm pretty sure we do, because—“

“Oh, this oughta be good. Mae Borowski's famous advice.”

“Will you just let me finish?”

Beatrice paused, some of the anger seeping out of her at the earnestness in Mae's voice.

“...Fine.” She shifted to begin driving again, though the car barely cruised above twenty.

“It's just... okay, like... Uh... I'm trying to figure out how to say it right, sorry,” Mae said, rubbing at the back of her neck as she adjusted her position. “It's like... Um... It's like me, right? With all the stuff at college and... yeah. Um. When I didn't tell anyone, it got a lot worse? Like... I just bottled it all up, and then I couldn't deal with it, and then it just got worse and worse and I had to drop out, and move back in with my parents, and...”

“Yes, we all know your life story, Mae.”

“Well, no—I mean, you do. Nobody else does.”

Beatrice blinked at this, gazing sidelong at the other young woman as she half-focused on the road.

“When I told you... about the shapes, and Andy, uh... I mean, you're pretty much the only one I ever told. I mean, I told Dr. Hank some stuff, but not even that much stuff because I don't think he would've got it anyway. And... when I told you, and—I mean, didn't happen right away, obviously, because of all that crazy bullshit, but—when I told you, I felt... a lot better.”

Bea was silent for a long moment, her fingers lightly rapping over the steering wheel as she felt a tide of emotions bubbling inside her, just under the surface of her carefully-controlled facade.

“And I just think... maybe you should tell someone about it. About your mom. And... well, I'm right here? Like... literally can't go anywhere, unless you kick me out of a moving car, which... I don't think you would, but maybe...”

Finally, Beatrice let out a soft chuckle as she turned the car down a little side road and stopped partway down. She had built up the wall for so long, created a full-body callus over her emotions after her mother died... and she could feel it all seething like a raging dam about to break.

“I don't... I don't think I can. Or I don't... want to,” she muttered, clearing her throat.

“It's really hard. I get it. I had... I had a pretty hard time when my granddad died.”

Mae recoiled a bit, as if expecting another explosive burst of anger—but Beatrice only looked at her, folding her arms over the wheel and laying her head on them.

“...Yeah?”

“...Well, yeah. I mean... granddad was awesome. I miss him a lot.”

Silence. Bea's chest tightened and her throat ached. Finally, the dam broke: she sucked in a broken sob, clenching her teeth together as all the pain she thought she had buried that day at the graveside came flooding back into her.

“I miss her, too,” she hissed through her teeth, her fists clenching involuntarily. “I miss her... s-so goddamn much...”

Mae frowned, hesitating a moment before reaching over to pull the other girl into a hug. To her surprise, Beatrice hugged her back tight, clinging to her as if she was the one solid thing to hold onto as despair wracked her slender frame.

“Hey... it's okay, Beabea. It's okay.”

“No, it's not. It's not—fair...”

“Yeah... yeah, I know,” Mae muttered, hugging her friend tighter as she watched the tough veneer shattering into a million tiny pieces. “It sucks. It really... really sucks.”

Beatrice only nodded, shifting to bury her face against Mae's shoulder as she tried—in vain—to pull herself back together.

“Your mom was so nice. Like... she did a lot of good things.”

“And then she got cancer,” Bea spat, her lip curling at the words as fresh, raw anger rose up from the old scar.

“Yeah,” Mae agreed, frowning.

“And nobody could save her.”

“Yeah... But, you know what?”

“...What?”

“I think... in a way, it almost, like... okay, don't get really mad at me right now, but it's like it... doesn't really matter?” She immediately winced when Beatrice looked up sharply, fire in her eyes and teeth bared, but quickly held up a hand to still the verbal onslaught. “I'm not saying it doesn't matter that she died! I'm saying, like—it doesn't... I dunno. She was really, really good. She helped a lot of people, and she had you, and... and I think that's maybe the part that really matters? I mean, granddad told me a lot of important stuff. And that's... that's what really matters about him. Like... he left stuff behind. Good stuff. An apple crate full of... spooky stories. And a lot of memories, I guess.”

Mae drooped a bit at the thought, and Beatrice frowned as the flare of anger slowly faded.

“...Anyway. Um. Like I said, if you wanna talk about it, I'm here.”

Beatrice regarded her for a long moment, emotions warring inside her; even now, after the dam had broken, she wanted nothing more than to pretend like nothing had happened. But... well, maybe, much as she was loath to admit it... maybe Mae had a point. The other girl was fidgeting awkwardly now, ears and eyes twitching as she tried to deal with the long silence. Finally, Bea drew in a long, slow breath and turned to sink into the driver's seat, hands automatically moving to light up a new cigarette. She'd need one for this.

After she took a long drag, letting the smoke roll slowly from between her lips, she cleared her throat and began to talk.

“She'd been... sick for awhile. Never wanted to go in to the doctor, though. Always too much to do. I had a lot of school stuff, dad was working late hours at the Pickaxe, a lot of community events happening... She passed out one day, right in the middle of hosting a bake sale. Just... collapsed. Broke a table going down.”

Mae grimaced, hugging her knees to her chest—small enough that she was able to actually curl up in the seat of the car.

“She wasn't out long. Figured it was just because she hadn't eaten, but dad finally made her go to the doctor,” Bea continued, her voice starting to tremble. “They ran tests. Came back positive. Cancer. It was in her bones. She lived about two months after that. She...”

She sucked in a ragged breath, closing her eyes tight as she tried to hold back the tears that had flowed so freely just a few minutes ago. She didn't want to do this again.

“...Yeah?” Mae asked, gently encouraging as she reached over to put her hand on Bea's arm.

“...She didn't make it to... my graduation.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

Mae scooched closer, taking hold of Beatrice's hand in her own as she rested her head on her shoulder. Bea kept her eyes closed, teeth clenched as memories flooded back into her mind. Neither of them said anything for awhile, until Mae finally let out a little chuckle.

“Y'know, I remember telling her one of granddad's stories when she was chaperoning one of the Scouts meetings.”

“...Really?” Bea muttered, cracking open an eye to regard her companion.

“Yeah. Ha, she got so weirded out—I kept adding details, too, just to see what she would do. And you know what? When I was done, she said I was 'very creative.'”

“Sounds like her.”

“I asked her if she wanted to hear another one, just bein' a little punk, y'know? And she actually did. She sat there and let me tell her, like, all the stories even though I was totally grossing her out. She just sat and... and listened. And I remember thinking, even way back then when I was little, that she was, like, the nicest adult I'd ever met.”

Even though her heart ached, Bea cracked a smile. Mae smiled back.

“...Thanks, Maeday.”

“No problem. I just... want you to feel better, is all. Because, trust me, it really sucks when you feel like... I dunno, like you can't tell anyone about stuff. You can always tell me anything.”

Beatrice looked at her for a long moment, then quietly shifted to pull her closer as she held her cigarette between two fingers. Mae blinked, tensing briefly in confusion, before slowly relaxing when their lips met for only the second time. She almost felt like she had her finger jammed into Gregg and Angus' shitty old broken buzzer, the way sparks ran up and down her spine—but it was the good kind of ache. Not like actually being electrocuted. Because that sucked. She could still smell the char.

Slowly, Beatrice pulled away and cleared her throat as she brought up an arm to carefully wipe her eyes on her sleeve. Somehow, to Mae's astonishment, her perfectly-crisp eyeliner didn't smudge.

“Wow! Holy shit, what is even in that makeup???”

Bea blinked, then cracked up laughing—the moment was definitely over, but she was okay with this.

“It's... I splurged on the good stuff, awhile back. Water-proof, lasts for days. I think, at this point, I've re-applied it in so many layers that it's pretty much permanent.”

“Geez. Think of all the possibilities! You could weaponize that shit!”

Still laughing, Beatrice backed the car onto the main road once again. Once they reached the park, she found herself still laughing as Mae made jokes—and awful, awful, criminal-level puns—out of just about each and every petroglyph they stumbled across.

A hazy thought bubbled in the back of her mind that somewhere, wherever her mother had gone when she had died, she was smiling and laughing, too. Mae had that effect on people, it seemed.

And, for once, Beatrice thought that she couldn't be happier things had worked out like they did.

Chapter Text

“Come on... piece of crap,” Beatrice hissed under her breath as she jiggled the kill-switch on the payphone. Her teeth were bared in an irritated snarl as she finally slammed the receiver back down, finger digging in the change slot to see if the damnable thing would at least return her quarter--just one of them--before she threw up her hands in frustration when no change was forthcoming.

Mae watched from her perch on the back of a nearby bench, elbow resting on her knee and head propped in her hand. She huffed a low sigh, an ear twitching as her shoulders slumped.

“Beeeea. I’m pretty sure we can just ask to borrow a phone for a minute,” she offered, half-whining. The little town was full of Cool Shit, like a zoo and an aquarium and lots of stores that sold weird knick-knacks, and Mae was tired of just sitting around and doing nothing--especially since their little vacation would soon be drawing to a close.

“Would you let us borrow your phone, if you were them?” Beatrice queried, eyes squinting as she folded her arms over her chest.

“...No, probably not,” Mae admitted, rolling her eyes after a minute and sliding from the back of the bench into the seat with a soft oof. “But come oooon, there’s so much stuff we could do. Ghost tour! Buy shit! Go look at stuff!”

“A) No. Just no. B) The only shit we are going to be buying is a hotel room,” Bea grumbled in response, shooting one more angry glare at the phone. “I am not sleeping in the trunk of my damn car again. I need one night with a bed.”

“I mean, yeah, okay. Hotel room. But we’ve got to buy some shit, Bea! Stuff for Angus and Gregg! And mom and dad and your dad and Selmers and...”

“We’re not getting souvenirs for half of Possum Springs, Mae.”

“Why not?”

Beatrice went to respond, then paused, chiding finger frozen in the air as her mouth hung open. After a long moment of consideration, she let out her trademark long-suffering sigh.

“Fine. Okay. One souvenir for everyone. Something little.”

“I can do little! Can we just go, though?”

Mae looked at her with pleading eyes, and Beatrice grimaced.

“...I guess. I just... really want to check in with dad.”

“Hotel’ll have phone,” Mae chirped as she hopped up from her seat, making a grand display of stretching as she shook off the imaginary cobwebs that had hung over her from the long period of inactivity.

Beatrice nodded, though she shot one last parting glance at the payphone as she and Mae walked off toward the central hub of the town together. Everything was brightly colored, designed to be particularly appealing to tourists; large banners advertising different stores and events hung in the square, musicians played little impromptu open-air concerts, and people wandered around, idly chatting as they explored all the charm of the small-but-not-too-small southwestern town.

Mae, naturally, demanded they try most of the little eateries, and window-shopped voraciously as she tried to balance an ice-cream cone in one hand and an old-fashioned soda in the other. Beatrice couldn’t help but admire her wild enthusiasm as she bounced from place to place, keeping a constant running commentary that somehow always managed to make her smile. They saw jewelry, sculptures, wood carvings, paintings, about twelve million T-shirts, a store that sold nothing but decorations and supplies for Longest Night--(“Oh my GOD BEATRICE WE GOTTA GO IN HERE,” Mae had yelled, grabbing hold of her hand and dragging her into the little store while Beatrice desperately tried to talk her out of buying (or 'borrowing') every single ornament the place held... though they wound up taking several with them, thanks to the owner’s generous sale and good humor)--and finally relaxed in the tiny park at the center of it all, watching tourists dance to the decent-ish salsa music played softly by a local band.

If Beatrice were a better liar, she would have said that she was perfectly content in the moment. But... well, if she were perfectly honest, it all felt like one big distraction now that she knew it was coming to an end. They’d be back home, soon. She’d be back at the Pickaxe, Mae would... well, who knew what Mae would be doing tomorrow, much less the next week or so... Reality was already creeping back in, and she took a long drag off her cigarette as she felt that old stress tremble trying to begin at the base of her spine. She wasn’t ready to go back. Her eyes drooped shut, and she took another long drag to try and steady herself. She couldn’t handle this. It was too much. She’d have to go home, unpack, go right back to work, deal with her dad, keep them both alive...

Her eyes blinked open when she suddenly felt warmth cover the hand that she’d been resting on the grass, half-holding her up. She glanced over to see that Mae’s fingers were idly playing with her own as the other girl watched the band play, foot tapping in rhythm. Beatrice couldn’t help but smile, remembering the way Mae had taken to dancing back at that ill-fated party. She turned her hand, twining fingers with her companion, and chuckled when Mae blinked and grinned broadly back at her.

“...You wanna dance, Bea?”

“What?” She glanced at the other tourists, all bopping around and making fools of themselves, dancing with strangers or relatives or significant others, and let out a scoffing sound that might have been a laugh. “Ohhh, no. I think I’ll pass on that.”

“Beeeeeabea! C’mon, dance with me!”

Beatrice sighed, meeting Mae’s wide, pleading eyes with a flat stare. Finally, however, she gave in to a smile and took one last drag of her cigarette before putting it out.

“All right, fine--” no sooner were the words out of her mouth than Mae had her up on her feet and moving rapidly toward the other dancers.

She couldn’t help but laugh as Mae threw herself headlong into the group, finding her groove easily enough. Beatrice glanced around, then shrugged as she swayed to the rhythm; it wasn't her usual go-to fare, but she had to admit that it had a nice beat. The song changed, picking up tempo, and the two of them locked eyes. Mae grinned her wild, devil-may-care smile, and Beatrice smirked in return. The two of them grabbed one another, laughing, and whirled around--something they had done back in the Scouts, way back when Mrs. Crangler had been trying (bless her ancient heart) so desperately to get them to learn how to dance properly. They were never a pair for propriety, back then. The two of them together had been matches and dynamite, always giggling uncontrollably at things that were really only barely funny, always doing something to make the other smile or laugh...

They were good times. Beatrice paused that mental thought as she playfully had Mae twirl round and round on her arm, the shorter girl wheeling with a joyous yell. These were good times.

Eventually, they managed to find a decent enough hotel to stay for the night--though, really, calling this place a hotel was doing a disservice to all hotels everywhere. It had about ten rooms, most of which were barely furnished and all of which opened to the worn-down parking-lot. The price was right, however, and Beatrice happily forked over the cash to be able to actually lay down in a real bed for once.

“Oh, God,” Mae blurted when they opened the door to their room.

“Oh... God,” Beatrice echoed, lip curling.

The wallpaper was peeling in... well, most places. There was an old rabbit-ear television set shoved on a tiny four-drawer dresser, a dingy bathroom with a cubicle-style shower and a single, surprisingly clean toilet, a floor that was, perhaps, more mildew than carpet at this point in its lifetime... But, thankfully, there was an old corded phone on the nightstand of the single large bed (she had asked for a room with two, but at this point she just did not have enough energy to care. It wasn’t like she hadn’t slept beside Mae multiple times this trip alone, much less before then).

“How much you wanna bet someone hanged themselves in this closet?” Mae asked, peering up with squinted eyes at the single long bar for clothing. Two hangers dangled ominously from it, twisting slightly when Mae jiggled the door handle in an attempt to get the sliding doors to close again--to no avail.

“I’m not taking that bet,” Beatrice replied at length, slowly lowering herself onto the side of the bed with a slight grimace as she reached for the phone. “I’m gonna call dad, okay?”

“Uh-huh. I’m gonna see what’s on the TV! You think they got Garbo & Malloy?”

“I’m pretty sure they’ve infected the entire world with their garbage show at this point, so... yeah, probably.”

“Hey! Garbo & Malloy is a classic!”

“Right. Classic garbage.”

Beatrice laughed when Mae swatted her with a pillow for her blasphemy, holding up an arm to defend herself against the fluffy onslaught. Thankfully, it didn’t last long; Mae found her Garbo-garbage, and Beatrice was free to make her call.

The phone rang once... twice...

“Hullo? Who’s this?”

“Hey, dad. It’s Beatrice.”

“Well, hey there, Beatrice! Been awhile. How’s the little... road trip or whatever?”

“Pretty good... We’ll be starting to head home tomorrow. Should be back in town in a couple of days. Might stop to visit some friends in Bright Harbor on the way.”

“In no hurry to get back, huh?”

She grimaced slightly, forcing herself to let out a joyless laugh.

“No, no... it’s... It’s fine. How have you been doing with the Pickaxe? Do you have enough groceries? You know, Mr. Borowski works at the Ham Panther if you need anything--”

“Beatrice. I don’t need my own daughter tellin’ me how to live.”

“I... I wasn’t. I just--”

“I know. I’m doing just fine, kid. You know, I, uh... I kinda think I needed you to get away for awhile, make me realize... uh... Ah, let’s just say I came to a lot of realizations with you gone. We’ll talk more when you get home.”

Beatrice blinked, nearly dropping the phone in shock. Her father cleared his throat on the other end, and she realized she’d been silent for a lot longer than she had initially realized.

“O-Oh! Oh, uh... yeah. That’s... I’m glad you’re doing okay,” she replied, stumbling over her words as she rubbed the back of her neck.

“Yeah. Well. Lot of thanks to you on that one. Like I said, got a lot to talk about when you get back.”

“Right. Um... well, then, I guess... I’ll see you soon?”

“Sure thing, Beatrice. You take care, now.”

That was as close as he had come to saying ‘I love you’ in what felt like decades.

“Yes, sir. Bye.”

“Bye.”

She slowly set the phone back down, her mind ruminating over the conversation as she tapped her fingers on her lips. Conflicted emotions bubbled inside her, and she stared at the phone as if it could provide her the answers she was seeking. Naturally, it was silent.

Too silent?

She blinked as she looked up, realizing that Mae had muted the television and was squinting to read the closed captions she had turned on.

“...Mae?”

“Huh?”

“...Why do you not have the sound on?”

“Oh! You off the phone?” She grabbed the remote in a flash, returning the volume to normal. “Just thought it’d be kinda rude, y’know, have Garbo & Malloy on while you talked to your dad and all.”

Beatrice blinked again, her already bewildered mind struggling to process the situation. Her father was okay. He actually sounded better than he had in years. And Mae was muting the TV for her to make phone calls? What sort of horrible alternate dimension had she fallen into on the road? Did she die at the wheel without realizing? Shit, was this what Purgatory looked like? That would explain a few things...

“...Uh, Bea? Yoooou all right, there?”

“What--yeah. No, I’m... good. That was just really... weird,” she muttered, shifting to kick her boots off and prop her feet up on the bed.

“Did it go okay?”

“Well... yeah? I mean... a lot better than expected.”

“So that’s a good thing, right?”

“...I don’t know.”

Mae blinked, one brow quirking as she turned to regard her companion.

“...What do you mean?”

“I just... it’s complicated, I guess,” Beatrice explained feebly, shrugging a shoulder as she leaned back against the headboard. “I was expecting him to be a lot worse, or... I don’t know, angry? But he was... fine. Just fine.”

“He seemed pretty nice at dinner,” Mae suggested, flopping over to lay beside her. “Except for when you brought up the Pickaxe and things got tense. And then I told you all that stuff that made you mad at me, and then everything sucked.”

Beatrice snorted at this, though her lips twitched upward.

“Yeah, well. You know how to make an ass of yourself, Mae Borowski.”

“Eh. Borowski family tradition. Gotta keep it alive.”

“That so? Making an ass of yourself run in the family, then?”

“Oh, yeah,” Mae drawled, folding her hands behind her head as she stared up at the ceiling. “Mom’s real moody. I mean, she means well, but she can be a real... I dunno how to call my mom an asshole without it sounding, like, really terrible. But, yeah. Dad’s got the puns. The terrible, awful puns.”

Beatrice chuckled at this, reaching down to run her fingers through Mae’s fluffy red-dyed hair.

“Yeah, I’ve heard a few of those. They were pretty awful, not going to lie.”

“Mm-hmm,” Mae hummed, letting her eyes close as she enjoyed the sensation of Bea’s fingers combing through her hair. “...He used to be worse, though.”

“Oh? Even worse jokes?”

“...No, he was... I was kinda scared of him, sometimes, when I was a kid. He’d go out drinking, and...”

Beatrice’s fingers froze mid-motion, and she stared down at the other girl, concern written across her features.

“...He’d what? What did he do?”

“I mean, he never really... He yelled a lot. He’d get real loud, and he’d say awful stuff, and sometimes he’d throw things and... it was mostly just loud and scary. I just... learned real fast not to try to be loud back when he was like that.”

“He hit you?” Beatrice’s voice was terse, now, laced with anger.

“Well, I mean... one time. And he threatened my mom when she tried to get between us, and... Well, anyway. It was around that time he realized he needed to not drink anymore,” Mae replied, opening her eyes again to look up at Beatrice. “Because he was a danger to us. So he stopped. He really hasn’t ever had a drink since. And he’s a lot better, and a lot nicer, but... I think he’s a lot more stressed out, too?”

Slowly, the anger leached out of Beatrice, and she sighed as she ruffled Mae’s hair quietly.

“...Yeah. Drinking’s one of those double-edged swords, I guess. My dad’s more of a sad drunk. Which... hasn’t been helpful. He’ll just sit there and waste away all day.”

Mae nodded, looking Beatrice over thoughtfully for a long moment.

“It’s hard when dads aren’t like they’re supposed to be, isn’t it? Like... hell, have a bad dad, and everything else just kinda goes to hell.”

“True.”

“Well... anyway, I’m glad your dad is doing better. Maybe you can finally stop doing literally everything over at the Pickaxe and we can do fun stuff more often.”

Bea chuckled, giving Mae a lopsided grin.

“Yeah? I dunno, there’s a lot to do at the Pickaxe... I’ll probably still be working a lot.”

Mae crinkled her nose and shifted to sit up. For a minute, she was oddly quiet; it looked as if she were really thinking about something, the strange gears in her head turning in whatever bizarre mechanism operated in there.

“Well,” she finally began after a few moments, “maybe... I’ll get a job, too. When we get home.”

Beatrice blinked at this, quirking a brow.

“A job? Like... what?”

“I dunno,” the shorter girl replied defensively, shrugging as she folded her arms over her chest. “It can’t be that hard to get a job. I mean, Gregg got a job, so why couldn’t I get a job, too? Oooh, maybe I’ll work at the Taco Buck’s! Or, uh--with Angus gone, they might need a person at the Video Outpost Too. Or, or, uh... um... I dunno, the Clik Clak? Snack Falcon? Maybe not with all those lightbulbs I helped Gregg smash on the company dime. I just... there's gotta be something, right? Maybe some kind of routine would... help. With the shapes and... all that.”

Beatrice looked her over quietly, brows furrowing together as Mae looked pointedly away from her.

“You know... I think that might not be a terrible idea. If it wouldn’t stress you out too much,” she added quickly, reaching out to take hold of Mae’s shoulder. “Just don’t push yourself too hard, okay? Ease back into it.”

“I’ve been taking it pretty easy for, like... I dunno, most of my life, at this point,” Mae replied, leaning into Bea’s touch with a small frown. “I mean. I’m not going to get any better if I don’t try to, right? Your dad is getting better. I think I... I think I’m getting better? I haven’t really had any... I just...”

“Hey, it’s okay. You don’t have to try and figure literally everything out right now,” Bea said with a soft chuckle. “But you know what? I’m... I’m proud of you for thinking about it. Like... trying to make a plan.”

“...Really?”

“Well... yeah. I thought I’d have my life together by now, but... hell, I’m not even close. Maybe we can make a plan together, figure shit out one step at a time.”

Mae blinked at this, then smiled--a soft, genuine smile--and turned to pull Beatrice into a surprisingly powerful bear-hug.

“You’re the best, Beabea.”

“Gah! Okay--maybe don’t try to crush all my internal organs...”

Mae laughed as she loosened her hold, though she still grinned up at Beatrice. The two stared at one another for several long moments, the TV talking to itself in the background. Slowly, Bea reached up to curl her arms around Mae in return, holding her close as the two took comfort in one another... just as they always had, really, save for that rocky patch when they were awkward, angst-filled teens. Their foreheads touched, and she could have sworn she heard Mae purring with delight. They lingered like this for awhile, show and ensuing commercials entirely forgotten, before Mae finally tilted her head up, lips brushing up against Bea’s in a brief, hesitant kiss.

Beatrice responded in kind, returning the kiss as she pulled Mae closer still. This time was different, somehow; perhaps it was just being out of the car in a room with space to think, for once. Or perhaps it was the thought that it was all going to end, soon, once they found their way back to the hazy status quo of Possum Springs. Whatever the reason, this was one instance where Beatrice simply did not want to let the moment end too soon. She couldn’t afford it, now. She needed this. One hand came up to cup Mae’s cheek, and she felt Mae’s arms shift to slide up around her neck. She didn’t have much experience, maybe--but Mae had even less, so it ultimately didn’t matter.

Searching hands found their way under shirts, lighting over skin that sent sparks of electricity running from stem to stern. Lips met, again and again, broken only by ragged breaths and the reluctant need to breathe. A whispered name, a soft growl of reply... She wondered, the academic part of her mind bobbing along in the typhoon winds of the haze that had consumed her, if this was what people meant when they talked about ‘chemistry.’ Before long, she found herself falling back against the bed, the weight of her friend-and-now-something-more above her... and that part of her brain finally silenced itself as she stopped thinking and, just this once, gave herself up to the moment.

After all, her heart whispered, somewhere deep and dark in the very core of her being, if this is going to be the end of it all, if things are just going to go back to the way they always have been... might as well go out with a bang.

Chapter Text

The drive back was a slower thing, closer to a crawl—though a part of both of them wanted to see their families, make contact with Gregg and Angus, another part just… wanted to keep wandering. They stopped at tourist traps, took pictures with disposable cameras that were still sold in a few podunk gas stations along the way, cracked jokes, laughed, did their best to avoid the topic of that strange night in the motel… Both of them were oddly hesitant to go there, to discuss—well, whatever it was, whatever it had been.

They were nearing Bright Harbor, now, but the sun was setting and Beatrice was driving well under the speed limit as cars recklessly blew past them. The stars were just beginning to twinkle overhead in the evening twilight. Mae looked to Bea, across the console of the small sedan, and found Bea looking right back at her. A silent question passed between them. Mae raised a brow, tilted her head, and Bea pulled off to the side of the road to park the car in a poorly-maintained pull-off. Together, in silence, they watched the sun set over a much more familiar portion of the countryside.

Now the stars were shining in their full glory. Mae leaned forward, her head somewhere between the dash and the windshield, to get a better look at familiar constellations that traced themselves as solid shapes between points of light.

“You ever go stargazing much, Bea?” She asked after a while, pulling her head back to look at her friend.

“Used to. Not much time for it, these days,” Beatrice replied, lighting up a cigarette as she peered up at the stars. “I used to be able to pick out a couple of constellations, back when I was… what, twelve?” She shook her head, shrugged a shoulder. “Don’t think I could do it, now. I barely remember what they were called.”

There was a strange wistfulness in her voice that made Mae’s ear twitch. She considered this for a moment, then leaned back sharply in her seat and pointed out the window.

“Well, they’re right there, and I know some! A lot, actually. I mean, if you… y’know, wanna look.”

Beatrice looked at her, then back at the stars. She hesitated, then nodded, reaching over to open the car door and climb out of the driver’s seat, her back creaking as she did so. Mae was out in a flash, hopping up on the hood of the car and patting the space beside her as she lay down along its length. Beatrice chuckled, shaking her head as she carefully climbed up to lay next to her.

“Okay, well, these ain’t dusk stars—“

“What? What are dusk stars?”

“Oh, they’re stars you can only see, like… right when the sun is going down or something? Late in the afternoon? I dunno, they’re really weird stories that, like, nobody knows. But I used to climb up on Mr. Chazokov’s roof, and he’d show me some of them. They were pretty cool. Big Snake.”

“Big… wait, you’ve been hanging out with Mr. Chazokov?”

“Uh, yeah. He’s super cool, Bea.”

“…Somehow, I’m less surprised than I feel like I should be.”

“Pssh. You’re just jealous you don’t have a cool weird teacher guy to hang out with.”

“Yeah,” Bea replied, actually startling Mae a bit. “Yeah. I kinda am, actually.”

“…Oh. Um. Well, anyway,” Mae soldiered on, clearing her throat a bit louder than maybe was actually needed, before looking up and pointing to the stars. “There’s Mundy, right up there! I can always find him, because he’s a huge whale. See?”

Beatrice followed her gaze, squinting a little before finding the patterns in the disparate points Mae had pointed out. They did, indeed, form the vague shape of a massive whale—and she found herself remembering tiny bits and pieces of what she had learned when she was still just a child.

“Oh… yeah, Mundy. Didn’t he have, like, the whole world on his back or something?”

“Yep. Still think it’s kinda unfair, making a whale hold the whole world. I guess we’ll all die horribly when he gets tired, too.”

“Yeeeah. Let’s hope he doesn’t get tired anytime soon. Dying right now would kinda suck.”

“Agreed. Um… oh, there’s Tollmetron! Just the three little dots, right? In a triangle?”

“Wasn’t that the, uh… the bell? With a giant eye?”

“Yeah! And if you hear it ring, you die!”

“…Why are all of these constellations about dying horribly?”

“I don’t know! A lot of them are like that, though. Like, one of the dusk stars was Simone, I think? She was an awesome rebel leader or something and then she died horribly.”

“Nice,” Beatrice said after a beat, taking another drag off her cigarette.

“Yeah… Man, the constellations are a lot more depressing than I thought they were. I mean—there’s The Fish, though.”

“The… The fish?”

“Yep.”

“What’s, uh… what’s that story?”

“There’s not? It’s just… fish. Just a regular fish in the sky.”

“...Why?”

“I’unno. Ancient people were hella weird.”

“That’s… fair, I guess.”

Silence fell over them like a blanket, each looking up at the stars and tracing patterns that had been traced hundreds of thousands of times before in the thousands of years they had existed. It was an oddly comforting feeling for Beatrice, knowing that she could see the same thing that ancient people had been able to if she just tried hard enough. For as much as people espoused walking their own road, forging their own trail… there was something comforting about knowing the old roads were still there, even if in states of extreme disrepair.

“I wish I had learned more of this stuff,” she said after a few minutes had passed, flicking the butt of her cigarette out onto the highway as a car rushed by.

“Maybe you could go to college and study it,” Mae teased, looking over at her friend with a broad smile.

Beatrice furrowed her brow, and Mae pushed her ears back slightly.

“Oh. I was just—“

“No, it’s fine,” Bea interrupted, shaking her head. “I just… you know, I hadn’t ever even thought about what I’d study when I went off to school. I never really got that far.”

“Really? You always seemed like the kind of person that had a plan for everything,” Mae replied, rolling awkwardly onto her side on the hood of the car to face her.

“Yeah… well, I just had so many things I liked, back when school was still an option. I thought maybe I’d go and just… explore, see what clicked. I mean, shit, how do you decide what you want to do and who you want to be for the rest of your life when you’re just seventeen?”

“Right? It’s… stupid. I mean, to be fair, most people looked at me and immediately said, like, ‘warehouse worker’ or ‘janitor’ or maybe even ‘fry cook,’ but…”

Beatrice laughed at this, turning her head to look at Mae.

“Well, you showed them, huh? Went off to college anyway.”

“Yeah… but I didn’t make it,” Mae replied, one corner of her lips pulling back into something that might have been a frown if her eyes weren’t still so wide and bright.

“Eh. Still proved them wrong. You went out there and tried.”

“Huh. Hadn’t thought of it like that.”

“Because you’re really hard on yourself about things you shouldn’t be, and reeeally lax on yourself on things you should be worried about. Like this shoplifting thing.”

“Hey! Shoplifting is a victimless crime, Bea!” Mae argued, flinging out an arm toward the sky to make her point. “I’m just sticking it to the man! And getting cool shit I’ll never touch again!”

“Uh-huh,” Bea drawled in reply, though her eyes twinkled with amusement at Mae’s sputtering indignation.

Mae huffed and let her arm flop back down as she regarded her friend for a few long moments. She shifted to curl one arm under her head as a sort of cushion against the hard, cold metal of the hood.

“So… if you did go back to college, what do you think you’d study?” She asked, idly reaching out to take Bea’s hand and smiling when her friend’s fingers almost immediately twined with her own.

“Well… shit, I don’t know. I like… history, but there’s so much of that to study, and what can you really do with it other than be a teacher? Which, no thanks. And then I like computer stuff—“

“You’re really good playing laptop-drums,” Mae offered helpfully, and Bea chuckled.

“Yeah. Like that sort of thing. And, I mean, music is cool… but the industry is just so hard to break into, and it’s not like I can do much other than remix things. I don’t sing or anything. But, I mean, maybe I could be a programmer or something?”

“Isn’t that what Angus does?”

“Well… I mean, sort of? It’s more of a hobby for him, though, I think. Right now, anyway.”

“Makes sense. What about business?”

“I mean… I could? But… God, I don’t know. Business is just so damn soulless, and I hate Capitalism as much as the next surly Gothic twenty-something. I just don’t think I’d be able to deal with it without staging, like… in-class protests every day.”

Mae laughed at this, a bright, sharp sound that crackled through the air like lightning. Bea grinned, giving her hand a little squeeze.

“What about you?”

“Huh?” The laughter stopped suddenly, and Mae blinked at her.

“What would you study, if you went back? What were you even going for in the first place?”

“Oh… I really didn’t have a plan? Mom probably was hoping I’d do something nice, like… I dunno, be a teacher or something. Dad just wanted me to get some kind of degree so I could get a better job…”

“Okay, fair enough. But if you could pick anything, what would you pick?”

Mae thought about this, her brow knitting together as she tried to narrow down all the possibilities. She was mostly silent for a while (humming noises and grunts of concentration aside), before finally beginning to work on her thoughts out loud.

“Well… I mean, I kinda liked that Home Economics class where I made my super cool shirt. Maybe I could do something artsy? Like… that performance art shit, do weird stuff and make people pay me a billion dollars for it. Or, um… I dunno, astronomy? I don’t think I could handle all the boring science stuff, though. I just… it’s so hard to focus…”

Beatrice nodded, listening attentively all the while. Mae continued to ramble on about her options—“maybe I could be an astronaut! But that’s a lot of work. Or a professional wrestler! Or…”—before bringing her back to bear with another question. This one was a little too broad for the way Mae’s brain worked.

“Did you take any classes you really liked while you were there?”

“Oh. Um… I told you about that Death & Dying class, right? I really liked that. Thought it would be a lot more morbid, but… I dunno, it helped with a lot of things.”

“Hmm… Why not study Psychology, then?”

“What, like, be a shrink?”

Beatrice chuckled, rolling her eyes.

“You don’t have to be a therapist. You could do lots of other stuff."

"Really? Like what?”

“Well… You could be a school counselor. Or you could work with people in rehab clinics. If you wanted to focus on the death side, you could be a grief counselor, or even just be one of those people who go to nursing homes and sit with people who don’t have anyone left.”

Mae blinked at the last one, some kind of strange light coming on behind her brilliant red eyes that seemed to glow, even in the dead of night.

“…There’s a job for that? Just… sitting with old people?”

“Oh, yeah. Nursing homes and that always need a lot of people,” Bea replied, looking her over for a moment as she watched the way Mae’s face reflected her internal thought process. She had, apparently, hit on something salient.

“…I might… I might like doing something like that, if I can ever go back to school.”

“You can start volunteering whenever, see if you like it. Volunteering doesn’t need a degree.”

“Really?” Mae looked at her intently, and Bea gave her a small smile. It was strange to see her friend, usually full of bad jokes and fiery disdain for the world at large, suddenly so passionate about something like this.

“Yeah. Really.”

“Maybe I’ll look into it when we get home. I’m still gonna get a job, though, I think. Somewhere.”

“That’s fine,” Beatrice replied at length, shrugging a shoulder. “We’ve got time.”

Tension seeped out of Mae’s body as she snuggled closer, letting out a deep sigh that seemed to emanate from the tips of her toes. She had time. They had time. She felt a little of her anxiety about the future melting away, especially as Bea pulled her closer to lean in and give her a warm kiss in the cool evening breeze. After a moment, however, Mae pulled back slightly and looked at Beatrice once more.

“…Do you really think I could?”

“Hmm?” Bea asked, raising a brow in the darkness.

“Like… go back to school. You think I could do it? It was… it was just so hard, before.” She could feel herself starting to tremble, felt that old rushing terror come flooding back into her blood as she remembered the shapes, the towering statue pointing at her, mocking her… “I was so scared, Bea. And—and what if it happens again? I can’t—I can’t keep wasting money like that, especially not my parents’ money, because they’re already about to lose the house, and I can’t keep disappointing everybody because my asshole brain makes me—makes me see things, Bea…”

“Shh… Hey, it’s okay,” Bea murmured, pulling Mae closer to her and kissing her head. “Breathe. Like I said, we’ve got time. Nothing has to happen right now. We’ll make sure you’re all right and have everything you need to cope before you ever even enroll again, okay?”

Mae sucked in a few deep breaths, grabbing fistfuls of Beatrice’s shirt as she tried to calm herself down. Even now, the world was threatening to break itself apart, to return to nothing more than horrible shambling shapes… but she couldn’t. She couldn’t let it happen again. The harder she struggled against the intrusive thoughts and flickering of her vision, however, the worse they got. She shut her eyes tight, teeth bared and gritted harshly together.

“Mae… it’s okay. You’ve been doing great. This whole road trip, you’ve barely had any issues,” Bea continued, her voice low and steady and soft—but not patronizing. Mae hated it when they got patronizing on her. “You’ll be okay. We’ll figure it all out once we get back and settle into a routine again…”

Bea’s voice trailed off a bit at this, and Mae swore she could hear a hint of pain in the words. Settle into a routine. Bury ourselves in a rut, more like. Mae shook her head slightly. No, she couldn’t let Bea keep suffering like this. They weren’t going to keep spinning their wheels in Possum Springs. She was going to get her shit together, and God damn it, Mae Borowski was going to make something of herself!

Anger began to override fear, and she found herself breathing more steadily as she finally looked up to meet Beatrice’s eyes.

“I swear, Bea. We’re gonna get out of that goddamn town.”

Bea smiled, but the expression never reached her eyes.

“Yeah. I know.”

Mae’s ear twitched, and she frowned slightly. Before long, the two of them were pulling apart, settling back into their seats in the car… and Mae felt like the tiny console space between seats might as well have been some kind of Berlin Wall. Quietly, she leaned her head in her hand, elbow on the door, and watched the landscape begin to move again as Bea pulled back onto the highway.

Mae Borowski was many things, but she was not a liar. Not when it came to promises she made to the people she loved. Come hell or high water, whether Bea believed her or not… she was going to get them out of there.

No matter what it took.

Chapter Text

“AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAUGH!!!”

Gregg’s shrill, gravelly voice split the air, and Mae found herself laughing and wincing at the same time as she was lifted off her feet by his enthusiastic embrace. When he finally put her back down, they regarded one another with identical broad grins, mischief shining in red eyes that reflected a pair gleaming blue.

“Too bad you didn’t die in a car fire,” he chirped, eyes narrowing.

“Too bad you didn’t get eaten by roaches in your sleep,” she retorted with a twitch of her ear.

“Too bad you didn’t drive off a cliff into an endless abyss!”

“Too bad you didn’t get serial-murdered by the Ass Stabber!”

“GOD, it’s great to see you,” he barked, laughter breaking his briefly-serious facade.

“Back at you,” she replied, flopping down on the couch in simultaneous motion with her best friend. Bea and Angus had already headed into the kitchenette to escape Gregg’s exuberant screeching, so Mae found herself left alone with her favorite delinquent pal for the first time in what felt like ages. The two of them lounged in silence for a minute, staring at one another in the strange sort of quiet that was so full of things that wanted to be said, it was almost physically painful. There was a restlessness, a shared sensation of rushing forward through time on a roller coaster barreling toward a sudden end of the line, and both of them found themselves fidgeting with the itch of words that craved voice.

“You wanna go for a ride?” Gregg asked suddenly, shattering the uncomfortable silence as he leaped back onto his feet in one sharp motion.

“Hell yeah,” Mae agreed, scrambling up to join him.

In unison, as they both scurried to the door in boots scuffed with the dust of well-worn paths and worn-out places, they shouted:

“Angus! We’re going out!”

“Bea! We’re going out!”

...and, without waiting for a response from lovers too used to their combined lack of impulse control, they left. His motorbike was waiting for them in the narrow space he had claimed in the parking garage just under the none-too-shabby apartment complex. Mae grabbed the spare helmet that hung off the back “seat” of the bike (she used to forgo the safety feature due to the “super lame” nature of what her already large head looked like in an even larger, doofier helmet, but had come around more recently when Vince Calder, a passing acquaintance from high school that had been a sophomore when she was a senior, had busted his head open after hitting an icy patch while doing a wheelie on his bike just after Longest Night. She still remembered the oozing, the horrible bloody gap in the bone that felt disgustingly familiar...)

As Gregg settled himself, Mae hopped up behind him--and, as soon as she had grabbed hold of him, they were off. Bright Harbor flew by as they raced down narrow urban streets, their hearts pounding in their ears with each shift of the gear, each tight turn around corners at excessive speed... The city was much cleaner than Possum Springs, Mae noticed, and definitely brighter, as the name implied; there were no boarded-up windows that stood sentinel like ghosts of business past, and there were no creepy, looming statues that pointed accusingly from the facade of every building. Still... despite how nice everything was, there was just something about the shimmering veneer of the city that felt... well, it didn’t feel right, at least. Didn’t feel real. Her vision blurred around the edges as buildings began to fragment into shapes--but Gregg’s presence anchored her, and she found herself almost enjoying the new perspective, the strange geometry that formed kaleidoscope images of the skyline with shapes of buildings that stood taller than even the fuzzy green shapes of the neatly-manicured trees...

“So,” Beatrice started as she sipped at the fresh cup of black coffee Angus had just finished brewing. Though it was scalding hot, she didn’t mind in the least as the liquid seared down her throat and into the pit of her belly. “How are things in Bright Harbor? Adapting to your new life?”

Angus sighed, then chuckled dryly as he poured himself a mug and moved to sit with her at the tiny bistro table in the corner of the equally-tiny kitchenette. It was all they could afford.

“Adapting is a pretty good way to put it,” he said, shaking his head slightly.

“Oh? Trouble in paradise?” Bea asked, quirking a brow as she leaned back in her seat.

“Well... yes and no,” he replied at length, his deep voice tinged with hesitation. “Gregg is... well, he’s still Gregg. Obsessed with his delusions of grandeur and always hunting the next big rush. Caught him gambling the other day with some of his new ‘buddies’ from work.”

“He’s working, at least.”

“Yeah... some restaurant down the street. Not a bad place, but... jeez. Kitchens are cutthroat, even when you’re not a chef. Just bussing tables and washing dishes puts a lot of stress on a guy. And, you know, I get it. I get that he needs his releases, that... It’s not a problem. That’s not what I’m really worried about.”

“So... what, then? If you’re not worried about Gregg just being Gregg--”

“I’m worried about him... not being Gregg anymore.”

“...What?” Bea asked, brow furrowing as she leaned forward to rest her elbows on the table. “Angus, you’re not making sense, bud.”

“I know,” he said, heaving a sigh. “It’s just... he never misses a day. Not once. He even goes in when he’s feeling sick. Uniform’s always crisp and pressed--he stays up to iron the damn thing some nights--and he goes in with a black tie and a smile on his face.” He paused, taking a long sip of his coffee before continuing. “It’s killing him. He doesn’t want to say it, but I can see it when he comes home from a long shift.”

“Mm... I know how that feels,” Beatrice muttered. “Still. How are you doing? You liking it here?”

“Oh, I love it. I love Bright Harbor,” he replied quietly, staring into his coffee. “I’m working IT with a local office, and the pay’s definitely a lot better than I could ever get in Possum Springs. I’m even going to be up for promotion soon. We’ve got phone service here. Cozy little coffee shops and bakeries on most corners. Book stores. Restaurants. Parks. Heck, we’ve got a little arts district and a museum thing I’ve been meaning to go to. We’re even within walking distance of the beach!” He continued his list, voice steadily growing louder as his large hands tightened around his coffee mug. “There’s everything a person could possibly want out here!”

“...But you’re still not happy.”

Angus seemed to deflate at her words, his grip loosening on his mug as his head drooped. He finally pulled his thick, round glasses off to rub at his face, eyes shut tight against what Bea could only imagine was a hell of a burgeoning headache.

“How can I be happy when he’s so miserable here?”

Bea grimaced slightly, but found herself nodding in sympathy, anyway. She reached over to pat her friend’s shoulder as she took another long, deep pull from her coffee--now slightly less painful to drink--and found herself thinking that, maybe, if she drank enough of the scalding liquid, it would make her feel a little less dead inside...

“Man, wearing a tie sucks,” Gregg griped as he tossed a pebble back into the sea. “It feels like someone’s trying to strangle you, like, all the time. It’s so stupid.”

“Ugh. Gross,” Mae sympathized, though her eyes were focused on meticulously scraping sand off a surprisingly-intact seashell she had picked up on their hike from the boardwalk down to the beach.

“Tell me about it. Still, I mean, it’s worth it. I look hot as hell in my little nerd uniform. And plus, Angus is super proud of me when I go to work now and, y’know, don’t spend most of my time breaking lightbulbs or shoplifting from my own store because I’m bored outta my mind.”

“Dude. I need to see your little nerd uniform.”

“Girl, you so totally do! I’ll show you when we get back to the flat,” he chirped, grinning as he flung another pebble out into low tide.

“So, other than strangly ties and nerd uniforms, Bright Harbor’s treating you pretty good?”

“Yeah,” he replied, though with the drawling sort of tone that implied he didn’t really quite believe it. “It’s hella fancy out here compared to Possum Springs, though. Even when I wear that stupid uniform, I always kinda feel like I don’t fit in? Like... I stand out pretty bad at the not-parties we go to--”

“Wait, what? Not-parties?”

“Oh, yeah. Social gatherings, or whatever these Harborites call ‘em. They’re no big-ass bonfire where your best friend gets totally wasted and barfs all over her stupid ex-boyfriend’s shoes!”

Mae crinkled her nose at this, grimacing at her friend.

“Dude. Don’t remind me. That was, like, the worst night.”

Gregg only laughed, throwing another stone out to sea before leaning back on his hands and staring out into the seemingly endless expanse of rolling grey water.

“I just... I feel like I can’t be anything, here. Anything important, anyway. We can’t be Legends in Bright Harbor, you know? There’s like, actual cops, so I’ve been doing exactly zero crimes--not that Angus would let me, anyway, and I’ve been really trying to be good for him. And--and, we didn’t almost burn down this high school together, and when I tell people around here about it, they don’t understand how effing awesome or funny that was! It was, like, our shining moment, and it means... nothing here. People drink fancy blended coffee drinks, and talk about business and politics, and they walk on the boardwalk and sail on their fancy little boats and just... just... UGH! It’s so boring,” he shouted, flopping back into the sand with a dramatic flail of his arms.

Mae frowned as she looked at him, now staring up into the sky with a lip curled in annoyance, and slowly shifted herself to lay down next to him in the weirdly-uncomfortable sand that was starting to get... well... everywhere. Sand was terrible like that.

“Sorry,” he sighed after a minute, collecting himself again and turning his head to look at her. “I shouldn’t whine about it, I know. It’s a really nice place, and we’ve got good jobs and are being Real Life Adults...”

Mae shook her head.

“Nah, dude. It’s totally fine. I get it. Geez. That’s, uh... that little rant’s been building up for awhile, huh? You said anything to Angus about all this?”

“Oh, no way. He loves it here. He’d be so upset if I was upset. I mean, he’s got such a good job now that’s perfect for him, and he’s finally far enough away from his shitty family that it doesn’t bother him anymore and... and I gotta just learn to love it here as much as he does, because he deserves a good place, a nice place, and I love him so much, Mae.”

“Yeah... no, yeah, I get it. I get it. But, really, you should maybe say something sometimes? Even just, like, to me. On the internet. Because you’re eventually gonna, like, blow up. Physically explode. Just... Boom. And I don’t want that, Gregg my man. I do not.”

He grinned at this, a sudden sly look entering into his eye, and Mae looked back at him suspiciously.

“Speaking of blowing up if you don’t just come out and say something,” he began, his voice taking on an annoying sing-songy tone, “how are things with you and Bea, huh? Having a good... road trip?”

Mae blinked, feeling herself flush as she stared at her friend.

“Uhhh...” was her elegantly-crafted, thoughtful reply.

Gregg cracked up, and Mae punched him in the shoulder as she felt her blush only deepen...

“Did you have fun on your road trip?” Angus asked, nursing the last few sips of his second cup of coffee as Bea lit a cigarette on his approval. She blinked at the question, then cleared her throat as memories clawed their way up into the forefront of her mind.

“Uh... Yeah, I mean... It’s been good. Mae’s... y’know. Mae. With all her... Mae-issues...”

Angus tilted his head slightly, and Beatrice felt suddenly warmer than she had when she was drinking all that stupid-hot coffee.

“O...kay?” He said, squinting at her from behind his glasses. “Go anywhere interesting?”

“Oh, uh. Yeah. Down south. West. Saw some canyons. Petroglyphs. Ancient First People ruins. Bought some cheesy souvenirs--oh, shit, I forgot. Mae’s going to want to give you guys yours. Don’t let me forget to get them out of the car later, or she’ll kill me before we get home.”

Angus grinned at this, his whole countenance lightening up a bit.

“You guys didn’t have to get us anything...”

“Yeaaah, that’s what I said, but Mae insisted, and I just can’t say no to that face...”

Angus snorted a laugh, and Bea shot him a wry smile in reply. Ohh, if only he knew...

“You know... Gregg and I were talking, the other day. It’s... taken some doing to get used to Mae, but... she’s a good person, deep down. Just like Gregg. Lot of problems, lot of things they’re still working on, but... I don’t know. They’re both trying so hard. I mean, I don’t talk to her as much as you guys do, but... I feel like I’m seeing some changes.”

“Yeah,” Beatrice readily agreed, nodding as she blew smoke out of her nose. “Yeah, she’s... she’s really growing up a lot. Said she wants to get a job as soon as we get back to Possum Springs.”

“Oh? That’s great!”

“Mm-hmm... Maybe she’ll fill in your vacancy at the video store, if she doesn’t besiege the taco shop first.”

Angus chuckled at this, though his grin only grew brighter.

“I think you’re having a pretty good influence on her. It’s good you guys started talking again.”

“...Yeah,” Bea replied after a moment’s hesitation, looking down into the tiny puddle of coffee, full of sludgy bits of coffee grounds, that she had left in her mostly-empty mug on the table. A sudden twinge of guilt coiled through her belly, and she grimaced slightly as she took another drag on her cigarette.

“...Is everything okay?”

“It’s... complicated,” she murmured, slouching in her seat and looking away.

“...Are you two...?”

Beatrice remained firmly silent, though the heat in her cheeks betrayed her. She could feel Angus’ surprised stare, and the weight of it only made that sick feeling burrow deeper.

“Oh my God.”

“Angus, it’s--”

“Oh my God. I owe Gregg twenty bucks.”

“...Seriously? You bet on that?”

Angus only offered a sheepish grin and a shrug of his broad shoulders when Bea leveled a glower at him.

“Ugh... Look, it’s complicated, okay? The road trip was... we were together twenty-four seven, in a car, across the friggin’ country... There was a lot of talking, and...”

“I always thought you’d be a cute couple, but I never thought you’d actually go for it! I’m so happy for you!”

She rolled her eyes, slowly looking away from him again as she took another drag.

“Yeah... thanks...”

“AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHH!!!”

“Gregg! Oh my God, keep it down! Geez!”

“AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHH!!! I GOT TWENTY BUCKS!”

“Dude! Seriously?!”

Gregg cracked up laughing, holding his gut as he found himself doubled over and rolling on the sand.

“Ohh... Oh my God, Mae! That’s awesome! You actually did it, holy shit! Ahh! I’m so proud of you! And she said yes! Kind of! Hell yeah! Did you smooch a lot? GIVE ME DEETS.”

Mae winced at the final shout, her friend’s face now only inches from her own as his bright eyes shimmered with delight at the revelation.

“There was... some smooching, yes, I will admit this thing,” she replied, unable to help the stupid smile that came to her face.

“Was it like you imagined? Because when I kissed Angus for the first time, it was, like, way better.”

“Dude, yeah. Way better. A lot different? From how I expected? But, man. Good. Very good.”

Gregg laughed again, clapping his friend on the shoulders with unrestrained glee.

“I’m so happy for you, dude! Me an’ Angus always said you guys would be super cute if you ever hooked up, but Angus thought Bea was straight as a two-by-four.”

“I mean... yeah, I kinda did, too? But I’m real glad she’s not.”

“Right??? Gosh, how long has it even been? You’ve been crushing on her since--”

“Since, like, fourth grade,” Mae sighed, burying her face in her hands as she continued smiling like an idiot. “You should’ve heard me in my head when she said she was maybe interested, too. Just... holy shit. Holy shit! Beatrice likes me back!”

The two of them laughed together, and Gregg hugged her tight as his whole body vibrated with joy.

“Dude! You guys should totally move up here later, once you’re more of a thing and you’ve got some money saved up! We can be Apartment Buddies! The Terrors of 26-B!”

Mae laughed at this, grinning up at her friend.

“Hell yeah, dude. I’ll run it by Beatrice once we get settled back at Possum Springs. This town won’t even know what hit it!”

Gregg beamed, and Mae beamed back. After a moment, faces hurting from smiles too broad, both of them stood up, shaking themselves off a bit.

“Dude. Right here, right now. I got the knives. You got the guts?”

Mae stared at him for a long moment. Then her ear twitched.

“Oh. Oh hell yes. Let’s effing go!”

“Yeah!! First one to wuss out buys dinner!”

“If it’s me, it’s going to be like... the cheapest nachos. Or the worst pizza.”

“Mae Borowski, we have been over this. There is no such thing as worst pizza!”

“Pizza all the way up,” she shouted as he tossed her a pocketknife.

“PIZZA!” He shouted in reply, brandishing his blade and cackling as he lunged for her.

When they got back, they had bloodied, hastily-bandaged hands, and the sweet chill feeling that only a surge of adrenaline could produce. Despite the tongue-lashing from both Beatrice and Angus combined after their little misadventure, both of them were happier than they had been in a long time. Thankfully, no one had to buy dinner (which was great, because Mae had eventually called for surrender when Gregg had managed to poke her square in the thumb) because Bea and Angus had heated up some big frozen lasagna thing Angus had saved for just such an occasion. They ate, reminisced about everything except for the bullshit night where they all had almost died, swapped souvenirs and trinkets (Mae gave Gregg a little brightly-colored ceramic ocarina which he immediately began to toot on, and Angus got an awesome T-shirt with a bear-faced southwestern sun wearing ladder shades), and relaxed together, basking in the shared company of good friends, until the sun began to set over the city skyline.

“Well,” Beatrice began, sighing as she pushed herself out of the comfortable couch, “we’d better get rolling. Still have a good bit of ground to cover before we get home.”

“Yeah, true,” Mae agreed, though a bit more reluctantly. She and Gregg shared knowing smiles, and she swore that Angus gave her the same look, as well. Did Bea tell him? Did she really? Holy shit. Her stupid smile only widened.

“It was awesome seeing you guys again,” Gregg piped up, standing to escort the girls out with Angus close behind. “You should come back and visit again soon! We’ll have the lasagnas, the snacks, the beers. You can sleep on the couch! It folds out--into a bed!”

“Holy shit. Awesome,” Mae replied, wide-eyed.

“I know, right?”

Beatrice only rolled her eyes, though she couldn’t help but smile. She looked at Angus as she turned, holding the handle of the car door in one hand and her keys in the other.

“Thanks for having us, guys. You take care of yourselves, all right?”

Angus nodded, resting a hand on Gregg’s shoulder. She knew he was happier just seeing Gregg coming home smiling and laughing, for once--even if it had been partially due to an idiotic knife-fight on the beach. She knew that’s what good couples... ugh. She shook off the feeling, entrenching herself deeper into the walls she was building day by day, brick by brick. This wasn’t going to last. Possum Springs killed everything good. She had responsibilities. A father to help. A store to run. A life to drive headfirst into the ground, right after she buried the last of her dreams.

She slid into the front seat of the car, slamming her door with a little more force than was really needed, and Mae glanced at her with confused concern written across her round face. The two of them waved at the boys as they headed out of the complex and back onto the road for the last stretch of their journey, then fell into an odd sort of silence broken only by the sudden blaring of the radio as Bea’s fingers twisted the dial in search of something to fill the void.

“...Bea? You all right?” Mae asked, ears pressed back slightly as she furrowed her brow.

“Fine. Just... tired. Need the noise to keep me awake,” Beatrice lied, her voice deceptively soft as she felt herself breaking somewhere inside.

“Oh... okay. I’ll just... yeah,” Mae muttered in reply, looking out the window as she stared at the sunset in a bewildered silence. Everything was going good, wasn’t it? They were a thing now, right? A real-life, actual...? She grimaced slightly as she watched the sun slipping further away from her, sinking below the darkness of the horizon. If that were the case, then why did it feel like they were further apart than ever before?

Why did it not feel right? Why did it not feel... real?

She closed her eyes as the world began to splinter into swirling kaleidoscopic shapes once more...

Chapter Text

“Bea! Bea, can we stop at Donut Wolf before we go home?”

Mae’s sudden voice cut through the silence, making Beatrice jolt slightly--and the car swerved with her before she corrected and cursed her fallen cigarette, which she quickly ground into the carpeting. She glared at her companion, who only grinned widely at her with an apologetic, over-wide smile.

“Seriously? You can’t just--just shout like that. Goddamn.”

“Sorry. I just saw the billboard and--”

“We could have died. For Donut Wolf.”

“Ride the chariot,” Mae cried exuberantly, lifting her hands into the air.

Beatrice stared at her a moment, then let out a long sigh as she slumped back into her seat.

“You know what? Sure. Fine. Donut Wolf before we go back to our miserable lives. Why not.”

“Yeah! That’s the spirit! Kind of!”

Beatrice couldn’t help but smile at this, her lips twitching slightly upward as she let out a little chuckle. Much as she wanted to be doom and gloom all the time, it was hard when Mae was being her weird little goofball self.

“Oh--what kind’s your favorite? I’m a doomnut kinda girl, myself, but... really, pretty much all donuts are good donuts. Cream-filled, jelly-filled, glazed...”

“Ehh,” Bea replied, squinching her nose up a bit. “I’m not... big on donuts, really.”

“What?”

Mae stared at her friend, mouth slightly agape, and Beatrice rolled her eyes.

“Look, not everyone has a sweet tooth like yours, okay?”

“What is even the point of Donut Wolf if you’re not going to gorge yourself on way too many ridiculously sweet sugary puffs of fried pastry?”

Beatrice hesitated a moment, considering the question, before letting out a sigh and ducking her head slightly.

“...They’ve got really good pancakes.”

Mae blinked, her head tilting to one side as her eyes squinted.

“I mean... if you want to get pancakes at a donut shop, sure.”

“Have you ever tried them?”

“...No. Because donuts, Bea!”

“Fine. Then you’re going to have some pancakes with me,” Bea retorted, straightening up as she adjusted herself in her seat to get more comfortable. Thankfully, Donut Wolf was only about ten minutes away, and she could finally uncoil herself from around the wheel of this godforsaken vehicle.

“Only if you split a doomnut with me!”

“...Fair. I’ll try your greasy, sugary deathtrap.”

“Yeah! Donut Wolf! Ride the chariot! AWOOOOOOOOO!”

Beatrice winced at the sudden howling as Mae rolled down her window and stuck her head out, crying out to the moon as their little sedan raced along cracked highway.

“Don’t--jeez, Mae, don’t stick your head out the window like that, you’ll get yourself killed,” she muttered, grabbing hold of her friend’s sleeve and tugging her back into the car. Mae only smiled, her ear twitching as she looked at Beatrice with that strangely soft gaze that twisted at her heartstrings.

“Aww. Beatwice. You care about meee.”

“Oh my God,” Beatrice groaned, looking away and pressing her foot down a little harder on the gas pedal as Mae jokingly batted her eyelashes and laughed.

There was next to nobody in the Donut Wolf when they arrived, and Beatrice found herself instinctively on high alert in the empty parking lot. Thankfully, the building itself was brightly lit, its gaudy neon searing through the harsh midnight darkness as they opened the door to step inside. Mae was nothing but excited as she rushed up to the counter, ordering damn near one of everything as far as Beatrice could reckon.

“Slow down, you’re going to put yourself into a diabetic coma at this rate,” she jibed, though the faint smile took some of the bite out of her rebuke.

“I mean, maybe? But I’ve already been in one coma, and that wasn’t so bad. This time, sugar-induced sounds like the way to go. Lot better than bouncing down a cliff.”

Beatrice blinked at this, grimacing as memories from those horrible nights came flooding back. She heard the horrible crack of the gunshot, her stomach twisting with the sickening realization that Mae wasn’t actually right behind them. The way she had turned just in time to see Mae’s stocky frame tumble out of view. Panic. Desperation as she paced Gregg and Angus’ apartment, looking as solid and stoic as always while her world crumbled away inside. She was in the hospital, they said, not waking up. Not responding. And then she had shown up at their door, nearly collapsed...

“Hellooo? Earth to Beatrice?”

She snapped back to reality as Mae waved a stubby-fingered hand in front of her face.

“What?”

“Dude’s been waiting on your order for like... ten minutes. You okay?”

She could feel herself trembling, her heart pounding hard inside her ribs like a bird desperately trying to fly in a too-small cage. Still, she swallowed hard, gave the surly-looking young man behind the counter an apologetic half-smile, and ordered a short stack that she was absolutely not looking forward to eating now with the roll of nausea that threatened to overwhelm her.

Mae bounced over to grab them a booth while they waited for their freshly-made fare, and Beatrice carefully lowered herself into the seat across from her companion with a low sigh. Donut Wolf. Possum Springs. Almost home.

“You don’t look too good,” Mae said, furrowing her brow. “You sure you’re okay?”

“Yeah. Yeah, fine...”

“You know, ‘fine’ doesn’t sound real fine when you say it. And I should know, because I say I’m fine aaaall the time when I’m really not,” Mae said, leaning back in the booth and putting her arms behind her head as she stretched out. “You’ve been acting real weird the last day or two. What’s going on? ...Did I do something stupid again?”

“No, it’s--” Beatrice started, instinctively trying to mitigate the situation. Why? Finally, she grit her teeth and looked away. “...Look, this isn’t a conversation I want to have right now.”

“What? Why? Beatrice, just talk to me. If I did something--”

“You didn’t. Just... shut up about it.”

Mae just froze mid-sentence, blinking her large eyes at Beatrice. It felt as if the space between them was freezing over, glossy and treacherous like the thin ice on a freshly-frozen lake.

“...Okay. Fine,” Mae muttered, slouching into her seat and grabbing one of the little table cards that listed the current specials on it, pretending to read as she sulked in silence.

Beatrice sighed, rubbing her face as she, too, leaned away. It was all just... too much. Just last year, she’d almost lost Mae, like she lost her mother. Now... well, now she was about to lose her again. Her heart twisted and turned, and she found herself carrying out full arguments with her own mental voice, berating herself for being so blind. Possum Springs killed everything good. Maybe Mae was right, and some twisted monster or Lovecraftian Old God lived down in those tunnels, sucking up all the joy and wonder and life from the broken little town and the broken little people that lived inside of its limits. As she argued, fought, battled with herself, she swore she could see... fragments, things breaking apart right in front of her eyes.

Oh God, she thought, suddenly interrupting her own aggressive internal monologue, oh God. Is this what she sees every time...? Shit... Beatrice, get your shit together. Calm down. Just... calm the eff down, will you?

Her hands were trembling as she picked up the chipped white mug of freshly-poured coffee off the table. She couldn’t breathe. Everything was closing in--the walls of Possum Springs, wrapping around her, squeezing the life out of her--and what life was it? Standing behind a counter of a hardware store she had never wanted, her eyes drooping out of wrinkled skin that wasn’t her own, voice grinding and broken from years of smoking. Old. Alone. No one else was around. Her store was the only thing still there in that desert wasteland that used to be a town, used to be her home. Her father was long dead. Mae was gone. Everyone was...

She jumped when someone touched her--recoiled from Mae’s hand that had reached across the table.

“Beatrice! Bea... BeaBea, hey. Hey, it’s okay, it’s me. What’s--”

“Just stop!” She shouted back, the hollow sound of her voice breaking in her ears.

“What? Bea, I don’t--”

She sucked in a breath, the air burning in her lungs as her hands balled into fists. Mae was staring at her, wide-eyed and confused, and Beatrice felt her heart breaking.

“Just... stop,” she repeated, her voice hardly above a whisper. “This was stupid. We should have never...”

Mae blinked, her brow furrowing as she slowly sank back into her seat.

“I don’t understand.”

Beatrice laughed bitterly, feeling her eyes welling up with tears even as she swallowed them back down, forced the sorrow and the hurt down into the same bottle she had used to hide her grief over her mother years ago.

“What else is new? Margaret Borowski doesn’t understand something. God,” she scoffed, shaking her head. “This whole road trip was a bad idea. We should have never left. We acted like there was some kind of life outside of Possum Springs, and... there’s not. I’m going back to the Pickaxe in the morning, you’re going back to whatever the hell you do all day... I’ve got to help my dad. I actually have responsibilities. People depending on me.”

Mae grimaced, her ears pressing themselves back as she grabbed fistfuls of her own shirt.

“What are you talking about? Life isn’t just--look at Gregg and Angus! They got out of Possum Springs, and--”

“And they’re still fucking miserable!” Bea half-shouted, her voice hoarse. “They aren’t going to make it, Mae! Eventually, they’re going to break up, go their separate ways, and wind back up in the goddamn pit of bullshit that is Possum Springs! You almost died there! Maybe--” she cut herself off, her eyes widening a bit at the sudden dark thought her mind had immediately grabbed hold of.

Mae seemed to catch her drift, even as Beatrice found herself wishing she could take the unspoken words back.

“Maybe what?”

“Mae, I didn’t mean...”

“Maybe I should have, is that what you’re trying to say?”

“God... look, I’m just--”

“You know what?” Mae started, glaring as she slapped a hand on the table. “Maybe you’re right! Maybe I should have! That would have made a whole lot of people’s lives a lot easier, wouldn’t it? Mom and dad wouldn’t have to worry about their mooch of a daughter--”

“Mae, no--”

“--Gregg wouldn’t be so tempted to be a legend or some stupid shit, wouldn’t be off doing crimes with little ol’ Mae Borowski, the troublemaker--”

“I didn’t mean--”

“--Aunt Molly could stop hunting my ass down every time I snuck out of the house! And Beatrice Santello could finally live her own little pathetic, miserable life in the crap shack her parents built because she can’t let go!”

“Can’t let go? Fuck you!”

“No, fuck you! You just make excuses for things to suck! At least I try, Beatrice! I tried to go to college! I tried to pick up the pieces of my own shitty-ass life, to figure out what the hell I was going to do afterward! You don’t think I already hate myself enough? You think I need you adding to it all? Again?”

Bea paused, mouth hanging open as she went to retort--only to stop herself at the last word. Her brow furrowed, and she tilted her head slightly to one side.

“...Again?”

“Yeah! How do you think it feels, having someone you care about, constantly bully you? Call you worthless, a failure, an idiot? When I got back home, you hated me. I know you did. Shit, you admitted it to my face. And don’t think I didn’t notice the way you were with Jackie. You... God, you broke me over and over again, and I just kept coming back for more punishment.” She frowned at this, sinking back into her seat as she rubbed her face. “Well. Guess you were right. I am an idiot. And an especially pathetic one, at that. Because I actually thought maybe you were a good person.”

Beatrice winced at the words, letting her gaze drop to the steam coiling out of her coffee mug. Neither of them spoke for several long moments. Finally, she took a deep breath to calm her frazzled nerves. Say you’re sorry. Apologize, she told herself. Stop being an ass.

“So,” she began, clearing her throat. Apologize! “...I guess that’s it, then.”

Her heart sank as she watched Mae droop further into her seat, her face blank.

“Yep. Guess it is.”

Her brain berated her again, but it was too late. The damage had been done. Just as she went to speak again, the heavy clomping foot-falls of the lone Donut Wolf employee marched toward them. She glanced up, only to jolt slightly when the young man simply dropped two plates onto the table--one filled with an assortment of donuts, and the other a short stack of perfectly fluffy pancakes.

“Enjoy your meal. Ride the chariot,” he droned, face a perfect mask of contempt for his workplace. “Awooo.”

“Awoo,” Mae repeated, half-hearted, as she brought a donut up to her mouth and shoved the whole thing in.

Today sucked.

This year had sucked.

But goddamn if this wasn’t just the icing on the shit cake that had been her life thus far.

Chapter Text

Bea dropped her off some time after midnight. The two of them said nothing to one another, even as Mae unloaded her pair of bags (one full of nothing but tchotchkes and random crap she had splurged on during their little adventure). In silence, Mae headed up to her front door. In silence, Bea drove away. Mae sucked in a deep breath, feeling it hitch slightly somewhere in her throat, then knocked--her father was usually up late. Thankfully, he was still awake tonight, and answered the door in short order.

“Well, hello, Kitten!” He cried, his deep voice rumbling with joy. “Feels like it’s been a month of Sundays. Did you get taller while you were gone?” He chuckled--only to pause, frowning, when he noticed his daughter’s downcast expression. “Well, now... Mae? What’s going on, dear? Are you all right?”

All she wanted to do was fall into his arms like she had when she really was just a little kitten of a girl. She wanted to sob against his chest, beat against his tough arms with her tiny fists, scream and wail... but she wasn’t a kid anymore, as she was so fond of telling everyone. She was an adult. She could... she could deal by herself.

“Fine,” she lied, her voice broken and hoarse despite her best efforts. “I’m just... really tired.”

“Oh,” her father murmured, adjusting his glasses. “Well, here. Let me get your bags for you, Kitten.”

She only nodded, accepting his help without a word as she slouched into the living room. The living room... how long would she even have a living room to come back to? How long before her parents lost the house? Yeah, her dad was working on getting the unions back together, but... God, she’d lost Bea, she’d lost Angus and Gregg--soon, she’d even lose the house she grew up in. Her parents. She sank down onto the couch, her body trembling as she felt herself starting to hyperventilate. How much time did she have until everything went away?

“I recorded Garbo & Malloy so we could watch it together,” her father continued, setting her bags aside before sitting down beside her. “You interested?”

Mae hesitated, grabbing fistfuls of her shirt and fretfully kneading the hemline.

“Don’t have to, of course, if you’d rather just go on to bed,” he finished, watching her carefully from behind his thick angular glasses.

Mae finally sobbed, flopping her head against his shoulder as she cried. Her father frowned and pulled her in close, his thick fingers brushing through the red tips of her scruffy hair.

“Hey, now... Breathe, Kitten. Breathe. It’s okay. I’ve got you. I’m here.”

She turned into him, arms wrapping around his barrel chest as she let everything out in a jumbled rush of words, of noise, of--of garbage. Radio static, hissing in the frigid cabin of a silent car racing down the highway. A hum that threatened to separate her skull. A song.

Somehow, without her knowledge... she fell asleep.

She dreamed.

Monstrous existence... The words rattled in her skull as she came to herself, the world fading into view in a shattered disarray of fragmented shapes that eventually formed into the silhouettes of hollowed-out buildings. She heard... music? A song... this was familiar. She had to find them, had to find the dudes... But every time she moved, she--there was a building. It jutted out at odd angles, and she couldn’t--couldn’t get a grip on it, no matter how high she jumped or how hard she dug her claws into the side.

She turned. Ran the other way, like she was charging through the center of a deep, murky lake. She saw a platform, perfect for hopping onto--but another building creaked and groaned as it rose from the ground, blocking her off. All around her, they jutted out, like the teeth of some horrible deep-sea fish. She ran one way, then the other--but everywhere she turned, there were skeletons of skyscrapers, hollow pipes of industrial complexes, shattered windows and cracked facades... The city caged her in, and the walls pressed closer... closer...

You are swimming further and further out to sea... and beyond, there are things great and terrible... The voice boomed in her skull, and she shook her head in a desperate attempt to rid herself of the words. The buildings around her seemed to breathe as they moved closer and closer in, pushing her toward the blackness of the center.

There is a hole at the center of everything, and it is always growing... She scrambled backward as the world tilted sharply, sending her careening down toward the gaping maw of the pit at the bottom of the mines. It is coming. And you are not escaping.

“No! No, no no no...” She cried, digging her claws in as every hair on her body stood on end. Something sounded nearby--a sort of thumping crash, like something falling from an open window--and she turned her head, eyes widening as they focused on... a baseball bat.

Instinctively, snarling, she took hold of it and began beating mercilessly at the building preventing her escape. The building shook, trembled, crumbled--fell with a sigh rather than the horrible crash she had expected. A sound of acceptance, of sorrow, of--of relief. She paused, standing in the rubble as the world corrected its awful angle... and she laughed. It was a high, wild, manic sound, tinged with grief--but it did not stop, did not falter, even as she smashed what might have been the tunnel down to the old subway, what might have been the old Food Donkey, what might have been her neighbor’s homes... the church... the glass factory...

The Old Pickaxe. She glared at the building, a fire burning in her belly that seared out through her smoldering red eyes in the strange darkness of her dreamscape. She wanted to tear it apart, brick by brick, wanted to smash the windows and set the miserable thing ablaze. Her arms moved of their own accord, lifting the bat for a terrible swing at the cornerstone--and then, before she could even hit the structure, the sound of a sigh interrupted her, caused her to freeze mid-motion.

And the universe is being forgotten... and there is nothing to remember it...

Slowly, she lowered the bat, dragging it behind her as she pushed open the door. This was... not the Pickaxe she knew. It was twisted, mangled, too large--far too large. And there, behind the counter, was... a hole. Slowly, carefully, she peered over, her eyes gleaming in the midnight blackness--but she saw nothing but darkness, all the way down. A hole deeper than the one in the pit, stretching on to forever. Why did no one know about this? Why did... why did people keep dying to the unknown, remembered only in urban legends and middle-school folktales?

A song rose from the hole, making her hair stand on end. This was not the song she knew, but it was... familiar, somehow. She felt the ache in the marrow of her bones, in the pit of her chest. It was a dirge, a funeral march, singing of death and of the pain of forgetting. Anger and grief mingled within her, and she smashed the counter enough to get through to the hole, to reach down--down, and down, and down--before wincing when a pair of jaws clamped around her arm.

She was expecting the Black Goat. She was not expecting the shadowy grey crocodile at the bottom of this pit, tears streaming down the sides of its extended maw even as it refused to let go of her. Panic flared, and she found herself struggling, pulling back, hitting the creature’s horrible scaly nose with her balled fist--but the creature only tightened its grip, massive thorned back curling in on itself as it groaned in the darkness.

“Stop it,” she hissed. “Stop it, just--let go! I’m trying to help you.” Her words echoed strangely in the emptiness, and her voice sounded... not like her own.

Now there is only the hole...

She shook her head again, taking a moment to regard the writhing form of the crocodile in the depths of the pit. It was... trapped, just like she had been a few moments ago. It had fallen into the pit after being walled in, caged by the structure that twisted and rose beyond its normal bounds. She took a deep breath, steadying herself as she slowly pulled back a bit to settle on the precipice of the long way down--even with her arm still trapped in the mouth of this horrible monster.

“Look... I can get you out, okay? Not... sure if I want to. Would unleashing eldritch horrors in dreams release them out in the real world? That... yeah, that’d be pretty bad. But...” She frowned, gazing down at the tears that continued to roll down the gigantic crocodile’s twisted face. “Come on. Just... lift your head.”

It looked up at her, black eyes shining from its grey scales. She offered it a wavering smile, even as she saw her blood pouring down into the pit. Her smile quickly faded when her blood pooled at the bottom and... congealed, forming into some sort of tar that began to cling to the dusky scales of the creature below.

“What--no! No, no, you’ve gotta let go! I’m bleeding, and you’ll--you’ll drown! Come on, you gotta let go and get out of there!”

The crocodile gazed at her silently, then let out a low, deep sigh and slowly opened its massive jaws. Her arm, severed, fell into the hole, and she watched with horror as it melted into more of the horrible tar.

“No! Come on!”

In silence, the great beast curled in on itself, closing its eyes as it was consumed by tar.

“Bea!”

The world shook. The whole mangled building began to quiver, drywall falling in and pelting the crocodile at the bottom like shrapnel from a grenade. She winced as a support beam fell in front of her, blocking off part of the hole even as she desperately reached down with her remaining arm to try and get to the monster below. Dust rose around her like graveyard fog as the building collapsed, and she felt the air leave her lungs as she was buried in the ruins of the abandoned city...

And then, instead of the dream ending as it always did when she ‘died,’ she forced her head up through the rubble. She coughed, dust exploding from her lungs, as she dragged her way out of the mess--and pulled the tar-stricken crocodile up behind her.

“F-Fuck you... we’re not... going out like that...” she gasped, flopping over on the pile of broken bricks and looking up--only to blink when she saw a sky full of brilliant stars. An aurora blazed through the shimmering darkness, and she found herself quietly entranced as she stared up and found familiar constellations shining back down at her.

A soft sigh beside her told her that the crocodile was still alive, and she glanced over to see the great beast slowly sprawling out on top of the rubble, scales soaking up the faint warmth of the stars. Mae chuckled, patting the monster’s side as they lay together.

“Bet that feels pretty good, huh?”

The crocodile rumbled, its eyes slowly drooping shut. Despite the strange non-pain of her missing arm, and the fact that she could see dark blood pouring out of the crocodile’s side... both of them were smiling, even as they lay in the rubble of a broken town.

“Yeah... pretty good... You know what? I think we’re gonna be okay. Even if it is all falling apart,” Mae said to no one in particular, even as she idly stroked the thorny scales along the resting crocodile’s back. “But, jeez--who’s going to clean up all this mess?”

The crocodile’s eyes snapped open, took a quick survey of the scene around them... and then it let out a deep, rumbling groan as it gaped its jaws in dismay.

She woke laughing, her “lost” arm numb and aching with pins and needles as it slowly woke behind the rest of her. It was still a manic sort of laughter, dazed and confused--and she slowly dissolved into equally-confused tears as her brain tried to take stock of everything all at once.

“God... God damn it...” She opened her eyes, and her world was shapes and colors, distorted and strange; she didn’t recognize anything. Everything was wrong, something terrible had happened... but what? She couldn’t... she couldn’t quite remember. What did she do? What had she done?

“Okay... okay, okay, okay... Calm down, Mae,” she murmured, closing her eyes tight as she grabbed hold of her head. “Calm down. Think. Think, think, think. Black Goat in the mine--no... not him... what...?” Fragments of memory. A hole. Despair. Beatrice.

“Ohh,” she groaned, remembering the Donut Wolf, remembering the yelling, the argument, the bitter silence... “Oh, God. Beatrice.”

This time, she did not cry. She did not get angry. She simply... paused, frowning, as she slowly opened her eyes again and looked at the shards of her old room. Dreams weren’t real. Or, well... they were the brain’s way of exploring real things. She and Angus had talked about that, once. All of this was just her weird-ass, sick brain trying to figure things out, to make sense of a world that didn’t quite make sense anymore. Just like... just like this, it was all... these shapes were real. She was real. Everything was real, and had happened, and it was okay.

“Yeah... yeah, it’s... it’s okay. Got through this before. Gonna get through it now.”

Slowly, almost hesitantly, the fragmented shapes in her mind began to coalesce into things she knew. Her laptop. Her posters. Her mirror, reflecting her own nightmare eyes back at her as she stared into it. The fire she had felt inside of her at one point in her nocturnal adventures still burned in her belly as she stood up, for once going barefoot as she paced the length of her small room.

She didn’t have much time. She had lost everything--no, not yet. Was about to lose everything. She couldn’t lose it all. She wouldn’t. She was going to do something with her life. She was... she was going to... she was going to get herself, and her family, and Beatrice--whether she liked it or not--out of this hell hole of a town and into a better life. Or... well, at the very least, she was going to earn some money so she could give something back to her parents. They had put up with her shit for about twenty-one years, now. Only fair they saw a return on their really bad investment at some point.

“Eh,” she muttered aloud. “Details. Eff it. I’ll just wing it. Gregg got a job. Can’t be that hard.”

After a moment, she sucked in a deep breath, forcing her own pieces back together for once. She rolled her shoulders, squaring off with her reflection as she gazed into mirrored nightmare eyes that shone strangely in the dim light of her room. She wasn’t going to give up just yet. She wasn’t. Too many people were counting on her.

...But Beatrice was going to have to apologize first, damn it. Mae Borowski would never say the first “sorry” for something that wasn’t even her own damn fault. Clearly, her “friend” had a whole lot of shit of her own to work through.

With a snort, Mae sat to pull on her boots, then trudged downstairs to put on a brave face and talk to her parents about her trip. Soon, she’d start the job hunt. Soon, she was going to be somebody--and not just the somebody that had put some kid in the hospital, nearly gotten killed like three times getting involved in a murdercult of old dads that next to nobody else really knew about because pretty much everyone aside from her friends was now dead, and had vivid hallucinations of the world in kaleidoscopic fragments that made no sense to anyone, herself included.

...Geez, that all sounds terrible. Well. Whatever, she thought as she rounded the corner at the bottom of the stairs and heard a familiar voice calling from the kitchenette.

“Morning, honey!”

“Morning, mom...”

It was the start of a new day, a new life, a new Mae...

...and she was scared shitless, even if she refused to admit it right now.

Chapter Text

Bea was plagued by strange nightmares that left her restless and exhausted. Every night, she was some sort of massive creature, writhing in a deep, dark pit--like that awful well they had climbed out of to get out of the mines; the well that Germ had sealed for good in a deafening, earth-rumbling explosion. She dreamed that she lay there, inky tendrils dragging her deeper into the shallow water she could not see, threatening to drown her. She dreamed of a hand reaching down, of someone shouting her name--she dreamed of earthquakes that leveled the town. She dreamed of death.

Hands trembling, she took another drag of her cigarette before turning to continue taking inventory. Dark circles hung beneath her eyes, and she found herself jumping and twitching at every little interruption. Her smile for the customers was more forced than usual, and she could feel it becoming brittle around the edges, threatening to crack at any moment.

She hadn’t talked to anyone in almost a week. Even her father, who was trying his best to reach out to her, hadn’t managed to get through the heavy facade she had constructed to wall herself in.

Tally after tally marked her sheet. She used to hate inventory. Now, it was one of the few things that kept her sane. Check, check. Re-check. Nails and screws, nuts and bolts, hammers and pliers... All in the same place, all accounted for. Running low on some of the favorite supplies of the remodelers that were poking their noses into the town, trying to revitalize it--or, at the very least, make it more palatable. Re-order.

A door slammed outside, and she nearly jumped out of her skin, teeth clenching around the butt of her cigarette on instinct to keep it from falling. The sound of men laughing. Her father walked in, accompanied by one of the others. Thank God he’d finally listened and got rid of that one disgusting prick, but... nervous, nervous, why was she still so nervous?

“We’re back, Beatrice!” Her father called, poking his head around the corner to look at her, smile immediately falling when he saw the lines of tension written in her face, in her posture. “Hey. Everything all right, kid?”

“Fine,” she croaked, clearing her throat. “Fine. Fine. Everything’s... fine.” The lie was still bitter, but she was getting used to it. “We need... to reorder some of the, uh...”

She shook her head, not quite remembering, now, which of the supplies she had marked for re-order. Check the list. Double-check. What had it been?

“...Beatrice? You don’t look so good,” her father replied at length, slowly walking into the room and resting a heavy hand on her shoulder. “Hey. Look at me, would ya?”

A pause. Slowly, she tilted her head toward him, forced that smile that fooled the customers enough that they didn’t ask. It didn’t convince him.

“You need to go home early today? We don’t have any more jobs lined up, me and the guys can finish inventory,” he offered, brow furrowing.

“No! No, I--I’m fine, I can...” She stuttered, gesturing at the rest of the boxes as her breath caught in her throat. “I can do it. It’s okay, I’m okay.”

“Beatrice. Go home.”

Something broke inside her, leaving her hollow. She smiled, faltering, and set the list and her pen off to the side.

“Okay,” she said, her voice barely a whisper.

Her father frowned, went to speak again--but, too late. She was already gone.

She did not go home.

Her feet took her down old trails they hadn’t walked in ages, feeling the thick dust beneath her feet like the attic of an old townhouse as her eyes remained focused inward. She saw the writhing creature in the pit, felt the rumble of the earth--the sinkhole that swallowed everything as the town around her collapsed. She walked past the old Food Donkey, past the broken-down remnants of a once-thriving industrial town, and finally stopped when she reached... nothing. Endless, expansive nothingness that seemed to stretch on for miles.

She lowered herself to the ground, sitting cross-legged as she buried her face into her hands. Without warning, tears came flooding past her fingers, and her body wracked with sobs.

“Damn it,” she hissed, gritting her teeth as her mind and emotions warred against one another. “Pull yourself together! Idiot. Stupid, goddamned...” Her voice broke, and she could speak no more. She cried there, alone in the field of grass nearly as tall as she was sitting down, for... hell, she didn’t know how long. Eventually, however, everything just sort of... stopped.

She was no longer crying, no longer upset. She felt... hollow. Numb. Mae was gone--well, probably not gone gone, seeing as they still lived in the same town, but... She was pretty sure whatever they had was over. And it was all her own fault for being an asshole. She groaned at the thought, rubbing away the tear stains from her cheeks as she tried to breathe through her stuffy nose.

Her mom would never have let things go down like this, she thought. Her mom would have... given her some kind of advice. Something churchy, maybe, and probably really corny. Beatrice would have rolled her eyes, brushed it off, took it to heart without telling anyone... and she would have been able to fix everything. But now? How did she give herself advice? Her dad... she couldn’t tell him. He wouldn’t get it. And, if he did, well... he wouldn’t approve of any of it, that was for sure. No, there were just some things she’d have to figure out on her own.

Slowly, she forced herself to stand up, dusting herself off as she took a look at the sky, streaked through with pink clouds. She was an Adult. She could do this. With a shaky sigh, she reached into her pocket to pull out her lighter and pack of cigarettes, idly lighting up as she turned and started walking back toward town.

“Okay,” she muttered to herself, taking a deep drag as her body went on autopilot to find its way back home. “How do I fix this?” She racked her brain as she walked, idly puffing on her cigarette. The sun continued to fall as she walked back past the Food Donkey, back to her apartment that she shared with her father, stubbing out her cigarette in the ashtray in the lobby before taking the stairs up.

“...I should probably apologize,” she finally said, standing alone in the tiny kitchenette. Her father wasn’t back from work just yet. He’d been staying later, sometimes going out to watch the game or have a drink--just one, he said, and she believed him--with friends. He’d be back soon enough. Her eyes fell on the car keys on the little table beside the sofa, and she tilted her head to one side.

Yeah. Yeah, she would just... just go over to Mae’s, apologize, take her out to get something to eat... Mae loved food. Tacos, maybe. Mae really loved some tacos. But they should get out of Possum Springs for a bit. Go find a taco joint the next town over, maybe.

Filled with a sudden determination, Bea half-marched over to grab the keys, stormed down the stairs, slammed the car door shut as she slipped into the driver’s seat, and peeled out of the parking garage with a look of grim determination written across her face. She was going to fix this. She was going to... to...

Mae’s house loomed large over her when she realized she had already cleared the couple of blocks between them, and she felt a sudden lump in her throat as her heart skipped a beat. The lights were on. Everyone seemed to be home. Her fingers tightened around the wheel, and she took a deep, shaky breath as she inched one hand toward her car door.

“It’s okay, just... go on in there, and...” She could feel her heartbeat in her ears, in her fingers, in the tips of her toes. “Just say... you’re sorry... Just tell her you want... to get...”

She shook her head, closed her eyes as tendrils of anxiety wrapped themselves around her spine. Her hands were full on shaking, now, no longer merely trembling. Panic raced through her, and she felt her heart slam against her ribcage in a dizzying metronome.

“Oh, God,” she hissed, ducking her head as she hunched over. She was going to die. Mae would come out in the morning--well, no, afternoon--and find her dead body wrapped around the steering wheel. Her father would be alone. Oh, God, her father... She clenched her teeth, struggling to breathe, when suddenly a rapping knock came to her window and she jerked her head up to see--Mae’s aunt, the police officer. Molly.

“Beatrice. Roll down the window, kid.” Her voice was low and firm, yet... oddly reassuring. Bea complied.

“H-Hello, Officer,” she gasped, trying to force herself to sound normal, forcing that same brittle smile she used on the customers at the Pickaxe.

“Hello, yourself. You all right? You look like death walking.”

“Oh, uh... yeah, I... c-car trouble... Stalled out here.”

“Hmm. Want me to take a look at it?” Molly asked, though her eyes squinted a bit.

“N-No, it’s... I think... I think I got it,” Bea replied hastily, clearing her throat as she looked out the windshield at the street ahead.

“Well, okay. Where you headed?”

“I, uh... Just going for... a drive. Clearing my head. That’s all.”

“Eh, fair enough. Just be careful, all right? No sense getting yourself or someone else killed out there because you’re too in your head to be on the road.”

Beatrice blinked at this, the words strangely steadying as she took another deep breath and nodded slowly.

“Yeah. Yeah, okay.”

Molly patted the roof of the car once, lightly, with her baton, before turning and heading down the street toward Towne Centre.

Beatrice breathed. Just... sat, and breathed. Once she had gotten control of herself again--though she was still shaky and now exhausted after the panic attack--she glanced at Mae’s house and grimaced to herself.

“Internet. Internet is better. She’s probably having dinner now, anyway,” she murmured, shaking her head and pulling off the curb to drive away.

In her rearview mirror, she could have sworn she saw a familiar dark face with bright red eyes looking out from behind the attic curtain. But she shook it off and drove on, under the guise of picking up some groceries for her and her dad to share. Tomorrow was another day. Tomorrow... well, tomorrow she’d figure out how to approach all of this.

Or not. What would her dad think? What would Mae’s parents think of all this?

Shit, she grumbled to herself. Shit, shit, shit.

Chapter Text

Mae had been all over town, today--which, well, wasn’t exactly unusual in itself, as she had developed a tendency to wander all over town ever since she was a kid. This time, however, her meandering up and down the old familiar streets had a distinct purpose: looking for “help wanted” signs in the windows. Surprisingly enough, most places... didn’t have any. The Taco Buck had one opening, but her impromptu interview hadn’t exactly gone well. Apparently, just repeating the words “I love tacos. I effin’ love tacos. You don’t understand, I would literally eat a taco every day of my life,” was not enough to get one a job at a taco joint--which, to Mae, felt distinctly unfair.

The Snack Falcon didn’t want her, perhaps because of rumors that she had been involved with some of the... unsavory activities of their last worker. The Video Outpost Too had an opening, but she couldn’t find the manager. Or... anyone who worked there? She guessed they were in the back or something, but the place felt weirdly deserted. The Clik-Clak didn’t have any openings, and she refused to lower herself to asking that stupid pierogi guy down in his stupid little subway hole if he needed help. Because, honestly, eff that guy. Her rats were fat and beautiful off of his stupid pretzels, and she counted that the best thing he had ever contributed to society. Stupid little pierogi shack in the stupid little hole...

At any rate, she wound up back at her house feeling a strange mixture of accomplishment and crippling disappointment. On the one hand, she had done a very adult thing by looking for a job, which was cool. On the other, she hadn’t exactly been successful. In fact, she almost wondered if her prospects were actually worse now just because she had asked. With a sigh, she shook her head and went inside, where her mom and dad were finishing up a taco dinner.

“What? Tacos???” She asked immediately upon getting a whiff of the seasoning. “Are we seriously having tacos for dinner?”

“We most certainly are,” her father replied, chuckling in his usual low rumble. “We figured you deserved a reward for going out on the job hunt.”

“Yes, we’re very proud of you, dear,” her mother echoed as she sat in her favorite chair in the kitchen. “Look at you, acting all grown up. You want everything on your taco, sweetheart?”

“Yes. Everything. Load me up,” Mae replied, hopping into her seat as her father filled her plate for her.

“So... How’d it go? Find anything good?” He asked as he turned and handed her the plate.

“Ehhh,” she groaned, pushing her ears back a bit as she immediately shoved a taco into her mouth and took a gigantic bite. Tacos made everything better.

“That good, huh?” Her mother questioned, though her smile took the bite out of the question.

“Yeeeah. It’s, like... They’re either hiring, but not me, or they’re not hiring at all. I went everywhere. Well, except the Ham Panther, because that’s kinda far. Ham Panther got any openings?” She asked, looking over at her father with raised brows.

“Huh. Well, not any I know of, but I’ll ask around when I go in tomorrow. Could save money car pooling to work, that’s for sure,” he replied, stroking at his chin as he leaned back in his chair. “Not a bad idea, kitten.”

Mae beamed as she took another bite of her taco. Sure, maybe she hadn’t actually gotten a job, yet, but... well, her parents were optimistic. She had good ideas. She was a goddamned adult now. Heck yeah.

The rest of their dinner passed in companionable conversation. Her dad, naturally, cracked jokes--awful, terrible, criminal jokes--when he could, and left her and her poor mother alternately groaning and laughing in spite of themselves. Her mother talked about the church, and about Pastor K; apparently, the young pastor was having some trouble keeping her spirits up in the face of both financial and social burdens, though the biggest of them--the members of the town council always breathing down her neck--had sort of... vanished. Mae chuckled nervously at that last part, starting to feel a little sick to her stomach. There were an awful lot of missing posters on the town bulletin board, now. No one had even thought to check the old mine...

After awhile, torn between the future and the past, Mae excused herself to her room and flopped onto her little bed. For a long time, she simply stared up at the ceiling, having weird warped flashbacks to what had happened just a few months ago. A sudden alert noise from her computer snapped her out of it, however, and she sat up to look at her laptop with a furrowed brow. Gregg had just messaged her. Immediately, her whole outlook on life shifted toward the positive again.

Whats up duder??? Any exciting times or exciting crimes???

Mae chuckled, rolling her eyes as she shifted to lay down with her computer on her stomach. God. Where did she even start? She saw him, what, just a week or so ago? And now all of this...

Ahhh geez dude it’s been nuts. Like 100% bonafide nut farm. Could sell these nuts for a premium at the farmer’s market, even.

Oh?????

Yeah like

Me and Bea aren’t a thing now

WHAT

Dude yeah it was weird we had this big fight at Donut Wolf

Oh man not the Donut Wolf!!!!

I just wanted some doomnuts bro and everything went to shit

AHHHHHh that sucks dude I’m sorry :C

Nah but it’s okay though? like... she’d been really weird

Said some mean things

I don’t think she really meant them but

She needs to get her shit together

Get all that shit together!!! Wrap it up in a big shit-ball!!!!!

Hahaha right?? And like I started looking for a job

!!!!!!!! DUDE

Yeah!!!! But like nobody’s hiring which is weird

Aw what??? lame

Seriously it’s stupid and I hate it

APPARENTLY loving tacos isn’t enough to get a job at the taco shop

Which sounds fake to me but whatever

Pshshshshhhhhh that’s dumb

you can totally do the tacos

Well probably not like do the tacos

If you know what I mean

Pffff

Not like that!!!!!

Hahaha anyway

I’ll find something eventually I guess???

Yeah man!!!!! U can do it!!!

Did u try the Snakc Falcon???

Yeeeeeah I’m pretty sure your boss took one look at me and was like

No

Hell no

Never

HAHAHAHA yeah probably

sorry dude

I m a baaad influence :D

U so are

wellll you got this dude

you just do your thing

and maybe Bea will come around and stop being weird???

but if not thats okay too!!!!!! lots of other cool ppl for u to date

Yeah... I dunno, we’ll see!

well I gotta go bed

Angus is givin me The Look

work tomorrow ughghghh

I feel u (except not really but maybe soon???)

hahahah right???

g’night dude!!!

Night dude!!!!!!

And, with that, he was gone. The little door-slam sound resounded uncomfortably in her skull, and she let out a long sigh as she rubbed her face. She wasn’t entirely sure she believed any of the things she had said, but... Hey, fake it ‘til you make it, right? That was a thing. If nothing else, she could at least die in a ditch somewhere with the ability to say she had at least tried to be a responsible, upstanding member of society for a little bit.

Hmm... maybe a back-up plan was in order. She should talk to Germ about his friends that rode the rails. She could totally do that. Just... wander off, be train trash. She and Casey had talked about it before... Ugh. Now she was just sad. She shook her head to try and clear some of the thoughts away, and got up to go and stare out her window for a few minutes. Looking out was better than looking in, at least. She saw that old tree that had heralded her descent into madness when she was a teenager. Saw the moon. Saw--a car? Right outside her house? She squinted, leaning in a bit to try to get a better look at the street. That looked like Aunt Mall-Cop walking away. And then the car peeled off, and Mae could have sworn...

Nah. Nah, just her mind playing tricks on her. She sighed, one of her ears twitching, and turned to flop down on her bed to mindlessly surf the internet. She had intended to only hang out a few minutes, but... well, a few minutes always seemed to turn into a few hours. She was pretty sure her parents were passed out in bed by now, at any rate. No more traffic noises came from the street below. Eventually, her eyes began to droop shut, and she yawned as she finally kicked off her boots. Probably best if she turned in for the night, too.

Just as she was about to close the laptop, however, the door-open sound made her jump, and she looked down to see that Bea had logged in. Her brow furrowed. Bea hadn’t been online in... a long time, by internet standards. She hesitated, her cursor hovering over her friend’s icon as opposing thoughts warred in her mind. Should she apologize? No--no, it was totally Bea’s fault for being an asshole this time. But... well, Bea was dealing with a lot of shit. And she was pretty sure she wasn’t dealing with it as well as she liked to pretend she was. But, on the other hand, she was a huge dick the other night. But the road trip... but the verbal abuse...

“Ugh. Whatever,” Mae grumbled, finally slamming the laptop shut and shoving it to the foot of her bed as she got comfortable in her usual burrito of covers. She closed her eyes, reached up to turn out the light, and let out a long, deep sigh as her body relaxed into the thin mattress. At least she had tried, today. That was all that really mattered, in the end. She had tried.

Thankfully, her weird dreams stuck to their usual level of weirdness that night. Wandering around, weird colors, floating objects--but nothing that heralded impending doom. She woke a little earlier than usual--closer to 2 PM rather than her normal 3 or 4--stretched, put on her boots, and let out a wide yawn as she slouched her way downstairs. Her mother was there, reading a book and drinking the last cup of the morning’s coffee, now lukewarm and sludgy in the bottom.

“Good morning, dear!”

“Morning, mom,” she replied groggily, waving from the hallway.

“Going out on the hunt again?”

“Yeah. Maybe somebody will change their mind if I just... never leave them alone,” Mae said, only half-joking. “I’ll be the unemployed stalker. Or, like... a jobless zombie.”

“’Minimum waaaage,’” her mother groaned, zombie-like. “’Zombie work full-time for benefiiiits...’”

Mae laughed, then held her arms out straight in front of her and walked stiff-legged toward the door.

“Joooobs... Give me your jooooobs,” she groaned, heading out the door as her mother laughed.

“Bye, honey! Good luck out there!”

“Bye, mom,” she called as she closed the door and took a deep breath of the “fresh” outdoor air. Summer was slowly drawing to a close; the leaves were still green and vibrant, but the colder nights had given some of them little tinges of yellow around the edges. Autumn would be coming on, soon. It used to be her favorite season, but with all the bullshit that had happened last year... Well. She wasn’t so sure she wanted to face another weird autumn.

Still, there was work to be done. First order of business: head down to the abandoned Food Donkey and work on her back-up plan with Germ.

As she meandered down the street, she saw Selmers sitting on her stoop as usual.

“What is totally up, Selmeerrrrs?”

“Oh, not much. Sweet vindication,” her friend replied in her usual low drawl.

“Oh?” Mae asked, pausing to lean against the wall to listen.

“Dennis lost his job and his girl. Because he was helping her run drugs into the prison.”

“Holy shit,” Mae replied, raising her brows.

“Right? He called me practically cryin’, tellin’ me how much he looooved me and wanted to get back together, blah blah blah...”

“What’d you tell him?”

“What d’you think I told him? Eff off and die, asshole. Sucks to be you. Have a nice life in a ditch somewhere. Jerk.”

“Haha, sweet. He deserved it,” Mae said, giving Selmers a lopsided grin.

“Yeah. Let me tell you, I was listening to Gloria Gaynor and Aretha all night long after that. Ahhh... feels good to let it go, now.” She paused for a minute, then looked at Mae. “So what’s been goin’ on with you?”

“Ah, nothing. Looking for a job. Going through some weird stuff. You know. The usual.”

“Mm... yeah. I think I’m about ready to start lookin’ again, too, but... I don’t know if anyone’s gonna hire me after the Ham Panther.”

“Hey, past is past, right?”

Selmers chuckled, giving Mae a sort of pained half-smile.

“Girl. They don’t forget anything in Possum Springs. The past? We’re livin’ it.”

“...Shit. You’re right.”

“Well... good luck. Let me know if anyone’s lookin’.”

“Will do. Catch you later, Selmers,” Mae replied, brow furrowing as she walked away. Selmers waved, then went back to her lounging on the stoop. She half-wondered what Selmers did all day, just to keep herself occupied, but... well, it wasn’t like she was exactly the model of a well-adjusted citizen, herself. Wandering around town and getting into trouble really wasn’t any better than sitting on a porch all day long and watching people go by.

When she reached the edge of town, where the abandoned Food Donkey loomed large (with an equally large population of rats, now, which was a distinct improvement, she thought), she saw Germ standing around with some people she hadn’t seen before. From the way they were dressed, she had no doubt that they were rail riders. She approached at an easy clip, and Germ raised his head to look at her with his oddly piercing gaze.

“Heya, Germ.”

“Hello. Been a long time. You and Bea were gone a long time.”

“Yep,” she replied, shrugging her shoulders. “Went on a road trip. New friends?”

“Nope. Just passing through,” he offered, gesturing to the people around him. They regarded her with an equal mixture of suspicion and confusion--but apparently, if Germ was talking to her, she was good enough for them.

“I was actually going to talk to you about that,” she replied, glancing at the man sitting on the ground a short distance off, his rat-nest beard falling into his lap--and she couldn’t help but notice, following the line of his beard, that he seemed to only have one leg. “You, uh... you got a minute?”

Germ shrugged.

“Sure.”

The two of them walked off to the middle of the parking lot, where the flatness of the earth met the eternal flatness of the sky, pierced only by the long lines of semi-functional lamp posts. He looked at her, expectantly, with his thumbs hooked in his pockets.

“Sooo... how does one become a crusty rail-rider, anyway?” She began, narrowing her eyes at him. He blinked at her.

“Ride the rails.”

“Well, like... yeah. Obviously. But, uh...”

“That’s it.”

“Oh. So there’s not like a club, or a, uh--”

“Nope.”

“...Oh. Well, that’s a lot easier than I thought.”

“Yep.”

She nodded slowly, folding her arms over her chest for a minute.

“Yeees. Yep. Yep, yep, yep...” She said, glancing up at the sky.

“You got problems?” Germ asked, his head tilting slightly to one side.

“Well... I mean, who doesn’t have problems in Possum Springs, right? It’s a... it’s a problem kind of town. But, I mean, I’m not running from the law or anything. Yet.”

“Mm. Look like you got problems. Wanna go see Rabies?”

“Uh, yes. Absolutely,” Mae replied immediately, grinning from ear to ear as Germ immediately started walking toward the bridge. “Rabies is the best.”

“Yep. King Rabies. I think I saw some babies earlier.”

“Holy shit, really?! Rabies babies!”

Germ nodded enthusiastically, and his long stride only got longer as they made their way to the bridge. When they were finally tucked up into the sewer pipe, waiting for Rabies to make his appearance, the two of them fell into a companionable silence. It was nice, she thought, just hanging out with Germ away from the world. He was good at that; sometimes, you just needed to get away from the real world for awhile and enter the Germ Zone.

“Bea’s having problems, too,” he said after a few minutes, his eyes focused keenly on the weird wall-paintings over her shoulder.

“What? How do you--”

“I still work at the Pickaxe sometimes,” he replied. “Sorting nails. So many kinds of nails.”

“Oh, right. I forgot about that,” she said, rubbing the back of her neck. “So, like... what kind of problems? Is the Pickaxe going under or something?”

“Eh. Everything in Possum Springs is kinda going under. Literally and not. Sinkholes and stuff. She looks like she doesn’t sleep.”

“...Oh. Huh. We kinda had a fight, a little while ago.”

“Makes sense. She likes you a lot.”

Mae blinked, resting her head in a hand.

“You think so?”

“Yep. Went on a road trip with you.”

“Oh. Yeah, duh.”

“Hey, Rabies!” He cried suddenly, and Mae whirled around to see Rabies walking in--with a whole bunch of little babies on ‘his’ back.

“Oh my God,” Mae said, biting her lip as she grinned broadly. “Rabies babies.”

“Yep! We should name them.”

“Oh my God, we totally should. That one in the front should be Mad Dog.”

“Ohh. Good one. This one’s Roadkill.”

“Tetanus.”

“Garbage-Lord.”

“Little Joe.”

“Little Joe? Really?”

“Hey! Little Joe is super cool and spooky. The other possums will fear him, as they should.”

“Huh. Yeah. Okay,” he said, reaching into his pocket to pull out a candy bar. “Food for the King of the Sewer Pipe.”

“A royal offering. Wait--can girl possums be kings?”

“Why not?”

“...That’s a fair point, Germ, my friend. Why the hell not.”

Life, she found, was full of ups and downs. One minute, you were making out with your best friend, and the next, you were fighting in some kind of weird relationship cold war where you weren’t sure what you were anymore. Then, you were hunting for jobs, getting rejected, and feeding an awesome possum and its many, many babies in the bottom of the sewer with a cool kid that had, in some capacity, saved your life.

She went home that night with a lot on her mind. For once, she didn’t even bother picking up her laptop when she got back to her room. Instead, she spent a lot of time trying to mull over her many thoughts. She’d be turning 21 before too much longer--a really real-life adult. What did she have to show for it? Germ worked, sometimes, and he was only 18. Plus, he’d done all kinds of cool weird shit and made cool weird friends and, as far as she could tell, had a cool weird family with cool weird stories to tell. Selmers had done a lot, been through a lot, was going to get back on her feet again, soon. Gregg and Angus had moved away, were making a life together in a new city. Gregg had really grown up, too--maybe not completely, but, hell, he was making some pretty big strides.

Bea was... going through her own issues. She wasn’t sleeping well, from what Germ had said, and Mae was a little guilty to find that she was kind of... glad for it. She remembered what Selmers had said about Dennis, and she grimaced as she rolled over onto her stomach. She didn’t want Bea to lose her job and everything else. She just wanted...

What did she want? That was the million-dollar question. More than anything... more than anything in the world... she wanted things to go back to the way they were. When Gregg and Angus were here, and she and Gregg would run the streets together, committing stupid little crimes and knife-fighting in the woods. When Bea played computer-drums in their little band, and made snide comments and surprisingly hilarious deadpan jokes. When they explored the shitty mall together and she commanded the God-Fish to spray the crowd, and Beatrice laughed and laughed...

She wanted her glory days, damn it. And before she became a real adult, she was damn well going to have one last big hurrah. She just... had to figure out what it would be. After all, you were only young once, right? So... why not enjoy it? Eff getting a job right now in a town that didn’t want to claim her. Eff being responsible and figuring everything out right now. She was going to be the King of Possum Springs, one last time, because... because...

Why the hell not?

Chapter Text

Mae stood in front of the old high school, head cocked slightly to one side. At three o’clock in the morning, the school was eerie; it loomed large over her, cracking walls and the few boarded windows they had never quite gotten around to fixing serving as the hallmarks of a long lifetime of service to the community. Graffiti marked a few of the bricks, but overall the building had remained remarkably clean over the years. Still, legends demanded cool illegal deeds, and she was going to make her goddamned legend by breaking into the high school and...? That was kinda as far as she had gotten. She shrugged to herself, looking over her shoulder toward the street to make sure there were no headlights coming. Eh. She’d wing it. It was... different, though, being out here alone. Usually, she at least had Gregg.

“God,” she muttered as she stepped closer, her boots seeming to echo all around her in the cool stillness of the night air. “What am I even doing here? Promised myself I’d never come back to this shithole.”

She passed around to the back of the building, head low and ears pricked for any other sound in the oppressive silence. One of the windows in the first floor girl’s restroom never quite closed right, she remembered; she and Gregg had gotten out through there a couple of times, usually to skip classes. Really, sneaking him into the girl’s restroom was harder than shimmying out the window had been. But... well, she’d never actually used it to get in.

The opening was awfully narrow. She glanced around, double-checking to see if anyone could see her--didn’t have to worry about security cameras, because God knew they couldn’t afford those at this dump of a school--but, again, she found herself entirely and utterly alone.

“Okay. Okay, Mae. You got this. Just...” She curled her fingertips around the bottom of the cracked-open window, and heaved with all her might to force it upward. It creaked and groaned, threatened to actually crack--but, finally, she managed to get enough of an opening that she could force her body through the cattywampus hole she had made.

She fell with an unceremonious thud onto the gross bathroom floor, and hissed a series of curses under her breath as she flopped over and quickly got to her feet. She paused, silent and stock-still. Nothing happened. There was no one else in the building. Slowly, she released the breath she was holding and inched her way out into the hallway.

It was strange, being back in the school in the dead of night. Things that she vaguely remembered seemed distorted in the darkness; posters with smiling figures became monstrous entities, staring down at her with gleaming eyes full of accusation. Rows of lockers looked like rows of prison cells. She hated it. As she crinkled her nose and wandered aimlessly along the halls, she found herself remembering why she and Gregg had decided one day to try and burn the damned thing down. Never quite worked out. Probably for the best, though. She heard arson held some pretty serious jail time. After a lap around the school, she found herself back in the girl’s bathroom where she had started. With a snort, she grabbed hold of a couple of the extra rolls of toilet paper that were stacked in haphazard piles on top of the dispensers and stalked back into the hallway.

“Stupid school,” she grumbled, tossing a roll of toilet paper up to the top of the stairs and watching the long, fluttering trail it left behind. She followed after it, ripping off the edge and grabbing the roll again. “Maybe you’ll look less weird with a pretty toilet paper dress.”

It was long work, covering as much of the school as she could with the long white ribbons. She broke into every bathroom she came across to reload her supply, and threw each roll with calculated annoyance anywhere the paper was likely to hang. Once she reached the janitor’s door, however, she paused, tilting her head and inspecting the lock. Gregg had taught her a little bit about jimmying the locks, but... well, she didn’t have any tools. Just for laughs, she tried the door--and, to her surprise, it opened.

A veritable treasure trove of cleaning supplies shone before her, but the brightest jewel in the pile was the ride-on zamboni that the janitors used to parade up and down the halls at the end of each day. Her eyes widened, and a smile slowly crept across her face.

“Oh, eff yeah. We’re doing this,” she cackled, pulling the zamboni out and hopping on.

It was surprisingly easy to turn it on and begin “cleaning” the very halls that she had just covered in toilet paper. As she rode, she laughed uncontrollably, jamming out to the radio walkman that the janitor had foolishly left on their precious equipment. Some stupid eighties music was playing, but it was absolutely perfect for zamboni-riding up and down the hallowed halls of her old alma mater.

She cranked up the volume and stood up on the back of the zamboni when the song reached its chorus, riding triumphantly down the hall at a top speed of about five miles per hour, and sang out at the top of her lungs: “WOOOOOAH, We’re half-way theeee-eere! Wooo-oooah! LIIIIVIN’ ON A PRAAAYAH!”

This was it. This was the defining moment of her--

“What the hell was that?”

That... was not her voice. She blinked as the blood in her veins turned to ice water. Her fingers fumbled wildly to turn the walkman back down, hoping that no sound leaked through the headphones--but the zamboni wasn’t exactly quiet, either.

“Shit, you think it’s the cops?”

“Man, I don’t know! Go look!”

“You look! Asshole!”

Mae frowned, hopping off the zamboni as she turned it off with a flick of her fingers. What the hell was going on? Someone else was in the school? She jogged down toward the sound of the voices, trying to keep a low profile--only to pause when she saw a flickering orange glow around the next corner. There was the soft sound of crackling flame, and the first few wisps of dark smoke wafted up to the ceiling.

“What the fuck?” Mae blurted, standing up suddenly straight. They were trying to burn down her school! Only she and Gregg could do that! That was her legend, damn it!

“Hey! Who the fuck are you?”

Some teenage punk rounded. He didn’t even look like he was eighteen, yet. Just some punk kid. But she noticed the reflected gleam in his hand, and her whole body went rigid. Guy was armed. Had a knife. And here she was, knifeless. Gregg would have laughed at her. ‘Always carry a knife,’ he always said. ‘You never know when you might need to slice somethin’ up.’ More fool her for not listening to him.

“Put out that fire,” she shouted, standing her ground as she felt the first fragments of the world give way.

“Hey, isn’t that... yeah, it is, isn’t it? How’s it goin’, Killer?”

A second boy joined the first, and Mae bristled at the nickname.

“Shut up,” she grumbled, her eyes darting between them as they drew closer. There were other voices, further off. “Shut up and put out the goddamn fire. Idiots.”

“What, you got tired of puttin’ kids in the hospital and decided to TP the school? Real tough, real badass. Pff. You in fifth grade or something?”

She said nothing, for once. She looked between the two of them, felt her hands starting to shake as her adrenaline spiked. They were... they were off. Something wasn’t right, this wasn’t... Who were they? What were they even doing there?

The first one to approach her got closer, and his face fragmented into a mask of shapes. She pressed her ears back and backed off to the laughter of both boys--strangely distorted in her ears, like... garbage. Just garbled, nonsensical... garbage.

One made a swing at her, and she grabbed hold of the shape that might have been an arm and twisted as hard as she could. There was a screaming noise, a clatter of metal against tile. The other pile of shapes charged at her, and she lowered herself into it, allowing the brunt of the force to slam against her and knock her to the ground. She wheezed, but reached up, flailed, clawed at the monstrous being that was yelling and screaming in bursts of radio static. A gleaming silver shape rose above her, contained in the mass of dark shapes that had her pinned down to the floor. Pain seared through her shoulder as she tried to avoid the collision.

Everything seemed to turn red. Her breathing tightened, quickened, and she couldn’t hear anything but the rush of blood in her own ears. Nothing was real. Nothing was real, and this was a nightmare, and she was fighting for her life--if she died in this virtual reality, she’d be lost forever. She fought like a wild animal that had been cornered, hissing and screeching as more and more shapes seemed to flood in from every side, flanked by the growing orange shape that licked at the walls and ceiling.

Red and blue, piercing and neon, suddenly covered the walls. The dark shapes fled en masse, and Mae chased after one of them with single-minded determination. She had to get rid of them, had to... if she could just... get rid of them, everything might make sense again, and...

She fell. Someone had her legs. She howled and screamed, thrashed in her captor’s arms--but to no avail. The grip only tightened.

“Mae! Calm down, damn it, or I am going to taze you!”

That voice. She knew that voice. She rolled, as best she could, and saw shapes that slowly coalesced into the form of Aunt Mall Cop.

“Wh... what?”

“Just sit here. Don’t you move a goddamn muscle, or I’m going to shoot your ass,” her aunt snarled, getting up and taking off after the shapes that had retreated into the dark. Another officer approached her--she recognized the gold shield against the uniform blues--and she hugged her knees to her chest as she trembled there on the floor of her old high school, surrounded by piles of torn up, charred toilet paper and spattered drops of blood. Smoke filled her nostrils, and she coughed as she hunkered down into herself, listening to the sounds of a fire extinguisher being furiously sprayed down the hallway.

All she remembered of the next several minutes was suddenly, violently throwing up--after that, everything was a dark, hazy blur of voices, movement, and washed-out color.

Aunt Molly looked at her in the rearview mirror, eyes sharp and bright in the darkness. Mae avoided her gaze, keeping her head down as she curled up in the back seat.

“You’re spending the night in jail.”

“...Yeah,” Mae muttered, leaning her head against the window. “I know.”

“What were you doing at that school, Mae?”

“I dunno.”

“That’s not an answer.”

Mae remained silent, ears drooping as she let out a long sigh. No matter what she said, she was in deep shit. She was facing real jail time, she knew, and she wasn’t sure how many people would be on her side. After all, she was “the Killer” of Possum Springs. Didn’t exactly have the best reputation in town. Gregg was in Bright Harbor. Bea hated her guts. Her parents--her heart twisted at the thought, and she curled herself up tighter.

Damn it, all she’d wanted was to have one last big awesome Thing she did before she started being an adult for real! And she even messed that up! Oh, yeah, Mae Borowski was going to have some glory days, all right--glory days behind bars. Eating gross prison food and getting beat up all the time. She sighed, staring flatly out at the vaguely familiar shapes of her hometown out the window as her ear twitched. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad. Maybe she’d become a prison tough. Make a shank. Stab people for their chips. Become rich in the prison currencies of snack foods and cigarettes...

Cigarettes. Oh, God, Bea was going to be so mad. She grimaced at the thought. Pfft. Bea probably wouldn’t even care. She had already written her off as a failure. A loser. A nothing.

“Are you even listening to me?”

“Huh?” Mae blinked, jerking her head up to look at her aunt through the mesh that separated them.

Molly sighed, shaking her head as she slowed the car.

“If you aren’t even going to talk to me, I can’t help you.”

“Help me what?”

Again, those sharp eyes met hers in the rearview mirror. Molly stared; Mae stared back. Neither said another word as the car pulled up to the station. Wordlessly, Miss Mall Cop got out of her car and opened the door to the back seat to haul Mae out. She winced at the feeling of handcuffs biting into her wrists--she’d never even realized she’d been cuffed on the car ride over--and slouched as she walked in front of Molly on the way into the tiny little station. The building itself looked like it was falling apart almost as badly as the school was. Mae snorted at the thought, only to yelp when Molly prodded her forward with her baton.

“Keep walking. Go on, into the holding cell.”

Mae grimaced, but said nothing as she slowly stepped into the tiny room--alone, thankfully. She glanced around, examining the hard little cots, before turning to look back at Molly.

“When, uh... when can I go home?”

Molly simply stared at her after removing the handcuffs and stepping back outside. The door closed between them with an awful clanking finality, and Mae felt that familiar fear bubbling up in her belly. This wasn’t real. This wasn’t real. It was all just... just one big, long, stupid nightmare. She would... she would wake up tomorrow, back in her own bed, and...

And then the lights went out. Molly was gone. She was all alone, in the tiny cell with a tiny window in the door. Her breathing quickened, and she rubbed her wrists where the handcuffs had been before pacing around the little room restlessly. Her shoulder hurt--there were bandages around it, she noted, but couldn’t remember when it had happened. Her back hurt. Her legs hurt. Everything hurt. Everything hurt, and she was so scared.

Eventually, she slumped down against the door, hugging her knees to her chest.

She slept.

Her dreams were a riot of color, of running, of pain... the music of her nightmares overlaid with the terrible clanking of the door that echoed into the deepest corners of her skull.

‘--0--’

She heard voices, vaguely familiar but distant--like someone was talking through a thick wall. Slowly, she cracked open an eye and nearly had a heart attack when she saw that she was in a tiny concrete cell.

“Oh, God,” she muttered, scrambling to her feet and turning to yank at the door handle. “Oh, God, oh God. It was real. No, no no no. Let me out? Aunt Molly? Let me out! Please!”

Another officer’s face appeared in the window and scowled at her, and she immediately recoiled from the door as if it had suddenly become white-hot. He growled through the thick glass between them: “Watch yourself, kid.” Then, as quickly as he had come, he was gone. She could hardly see out without standing right up against the glass, and she wasn’t about to try that again--but she heard argumentative voices, now, almost like they were shouting.

Slowly, she took a deep breath and sat on one of the cots.

“Okay. Okay, I can... figure this out. Work through it, Mae. You were... you broke into the school, yeah, and you... you TPed the whole thing, but... you didn’t set fire to the building? At least? Got stabbed at some point. Fought some guys? I guess? God... I can’t even...” she rubbed at her face, then leaned back against the wall and took another shaky breath.

A horrible grinding noise echoed in the wall behind her, and she twitched as she realized the door was opening. She didn’t move. She didn’t dare. When she looked up, however, she saw Aunt Molly standing in the opening, arms folded over her chest.

“Aunt... Aunt Molly?” Mae asked after a moment, hesitantly turning toward her aunt. “Can I go home?”

“Your parents are here to pick you up,” Molly said, though the steel in her eyes didn’t fade. “Bail’s been paid, so you’ll be allowed to return home. No court date pending.”

Mae blinked, slowly standing up and rubbing her aching shoulder.

“No...? I’m not... gonna go on trial or anything? I’m not going to prison?”

“No. You’re damned lucky it was me that found you in that school, though, Margaret Borowski. The way you were acting, you’re even luckier you didn’t get shot.”

Mae grimaced, looking away.

“Yeah, but--I mean, I didn’t--I wasn’t trying to hurt anybody or anything. I just... I wanted to have some fun, is all.”

Molly sighed, and for the first time, her rigid posture loosened a bit.

“I get it. Believe me, I do. But you can’t keep going on like this, Mae. You’ve had a real bad case of the ‘wrong place, wrong time’ thing going on, lately. One of these days, your luck is going to run out. And where is that going to leave your parents, huh? Your friends?”

“...Yeah. I know. I’m--”

“Still. We’re lucky you were there, in a way. Managed to hold up those punk kids long enough that we were able to identify and track down most of ‘em. One of them needed stitches. You did a hell of a number on him.”

Mae gave her an awkward half-smile.

“Yeah, well... that’s what I’m good at, right? Putting people in the hospital...”

Molly chuckled, though her own smile had quickly faded.

“All right. Go on, get your ass outta my cell. I’ll escort you out. But I’m warning you, Mae: next time I see you doing stupid shit like that, you’re staying a lot longer than a few hours.”

Mae nodded, quickly scurrying out of the tiny cell and following Molly out into the lobby of the station. Her mom was there, and jumped up quickly to run over and embrace her. Mae winced as her injured shoulder was squished, but she was too relieved to care much about the pain right now. Her father got up and joined them, hugging them both--and she could see the dark circles under his eyes, even with his glasses on.

“Oh, thank God,” another voice said, and Mae’s ears twitched as she looked over her parents’ shoulders to see--

“...Bea?”

Beatrice stood at the back of the lobby, cigarette dangling from her lips, looking exhausted and worn. But she was there. Mae blinked a few times to make sure she wasn’t dreaming.

“How did you know I was--”

“Word gets around fast in Possum Springs,” Beatrice replied, her voice hoarse.

“We called her, honey. She’s--she’s the only friend you had left in town, and we were so worried that--oh, sweetheart,” her mother cried, hugging her tighter.

“Oh,” Mae replied, her eyes fixated on the form of her friend across the room.

Beatrice gave her a ragged half-smile.

“Well, since everything’s all right... I, uh... I’ve gotta get back to the Pickaxe,” Beatrice muttered, nodding to Mae’s parents as they briefly regarded her and wished her well. “Let me know if you need anything,” she added, just before she slipped out the door.

Mae’s heart was in her throat as she watched Beatrice go. She... she had actually come to the station for her. She had been there.

Her parents walked with her to the car, loaded her up--her mother fussed over her shoulder, and her father tried to make jokes out of all of it--but neither of them pressed her for information. They knew, she guessed, that she would tell them everything in time. For now, however, all she could do was slink up to her bed in the attic, curl up on her soft mattress--boots and all--and let out a long, deep sigh as her body finally relaxed. After a few minutes’ thought, she reached out for her laptop. A few minutes of idle browsing would help her get her mind off of everything.

Gregg had left her a number of messages to the effect of: “DUDE WHAT THE HELL WHY ARE YOU IN JAIL??? MSG PLZ”. She groaned, rolling her eyes as she sunk further into the bed. Bea had probably told him. Well, that was just one more problem for future-Mae.

Speaking of Bea... there were old messages from her, as well. Mae blinked as she opened up the little window.

Hey. Sorry for... like, everything, I guess. I’ve been an asshole. You didn’t deserve me yelling at you like that, and I’ve said some really shit things. I don’t have any excuse for it. There’s been a lot of stress, and a lot of bullshit, but... I shouldn’t take it out on you. I’m sorry.

Mae raised her brows, her heart and stomach both doing strange flip-flops at the message. Bea had... had sent that last night, before she had climbed out of the attic window to run out to the school. She groaned to herself, crinkling her nose as she shut her eyes tight.

“Damn it. Note to self: read your messages before you go out on a crime spree. Jeez. Timing, Beatrice.”

You there?

She nearly jumped out of her skin at the sudden sound of the message. For a moment, she blinked at the screen, then took a deep breath and pecked out her reply.

Yeah

What the hell, Mae?

Okay, it’s a really long story but I’m not going to prison???

For a long moment, there was no reply. Mae fidgeted nervously, her stomach doing those sickening flip-flops again--but this time in a much less pleasant way. She wanted to tell Beatrice everything. She wanted to tell her she didn’t start any fires, or start a fight with anyone, or... okay, well, she had thrown toilet paper everywhere, but that was just fun! Fun times! Fun time crimes! ...Not helping.

I was really worried, you asshole.

Oh. Oh, that was a lot better than she had been expecting. She let out the breath she had been holding, then rubbed at her face and sank back into the comfort of her pillow.

Sorry

And thanks for the apology thing, sorry I didn’t see it before

I woulda said something

Something stupid probably but you know

Oh, shut up. Are you okay?

Uh yeah, I got stabbed I guess and there was a bunch of smoke but

What the hell??? You got stabbed ???

Like I said, reeeeaaallly long story

God. Okay.

Just... don’t do that shit anymore.

Mae watched as Bea typed--then deleted what she wrote. Then did it again. A third time. Mae pushed her lips to one side, her ears pulling back a bit.

Do you wanna go get food sometime?

No reply. Mae grimaced, letting out a sharp sigh. This was the most goddamned frustrating bullsh--

Maybe this weekend. I’m really busy.

Oh. Oh, what? She couldn’t help the grin that broke out across her face. It wasn’t exactly a yes, but it wasn’t a no, either! She got a maybe. Heh. Maybe.

Ok cool

Well I’m gonna go to bed

Because I spent the night in jail

And it was not comfy

in fact it was the opposite of comfy

very hard and cold

Ha. I bet.

G’night, Mae.

Nite, BeaBea

She closed the lid of her laptop with a little snap of finality, then slid it down to the foot of her bed. Well. That wasn’t relaxing at all. In fact, her mind was probably buzzing even faster than it had been before, running in dizzying circles about the weekend, about Bea, about prison, about crimes, about legends...

But eventually, consumed with exhaustion from the past night’s escapades... Mae fell into a deep, dreamless sleep. Things would get better tomorrow. She could feel it in her bones.

Chapter Text

Her parents didn’t press her for information the next morning, for which Mae was incredibly glad. As soon as she had woken up, she’d had one of those strange moments of epiphany--one of those moments where, in the twilight of waking up from a dead-ass sleep, she realized that she’d been incredibly stupid. Just... the worst. Breaking into her old high school? At almost twenty-one years old? Who even did that? And then she got into a fight with teenagers who were setting fires in trash cans or something... She crinkled her nose as she thought about it, mind wandering as she walked carefully down the power lines that crisscrossed the small town. The irony never quite settled in.

She really needed to get her act together, she thought. There was only so long when doing rebellious, punk-ass things was actually cool before it just became sad. After all, she saw the way the teens looked at her when she bumped into them around town. Heard the way the kids called her “Miss,” or “Lady,” like she was some rotting corpse already. Lori M. was about the only exception to the rule. Mae liked Lori M. But, well... Lori had some problems of her own that needed handling. Seemed just about everyone Mae knew had a problem or two, really--herself definitely included.

“Mae,” a sharp voice called out, interrupting her thoughts.

She snorted, pausing with perfect balance on the power line, and rolled her eyes as she slowly allowed her gaze to drift downward. Aunt Mall Cop was there, hands on her hips, eyes squinting into the afternoon sun. Mae groaned to herself, pressing her ears back a bit.

“What?” She called down, face squinching up in annoyance. “I’m not doing anything!”

“You’re walking on the power lines. That’s only kind of illegal.”

“I’ve done it a million times.”

“I’m well aware of that fact. Get down, Mae.”

Mae paused, halting an angry retort on the tip of her tongue before grumbling to herself and shifting to slide down the nearest utility pole before landing safely on terra firma.

“Geez. There, are you happy now?” She retorted, folding her arms over her chest as she glowered at her aunt. Why did that woman always seem to find her at the most annoying possible time? It’s like she had some kind of ‘Mae is up to her bullshit again’ radar. A Mae-dar, if you will.

“No. Come on. Walk with me,” Molly commanded, nodding toward the bridge as she continued to walk toward the outskirts of town.

Mae blinked. This was... unusual, to say the least. Usually, the ol’ Mall Cop just gave her a reprimand and let her go. Or took her to jail for a night, apparently. But this...? Curiosity got the better of her, and she turned to follow her aunt--though her hands were shoved deep in her pockets and shoulders slouched, just to show off in no uncertain terms how much she absolutely disliked this arrangement.

For a long time, the two of them simply walked in silence. When they finally reached the bridge, however, Molly paused and turned to lean her back against the railing, arms draped casually on either side. Mae took the opposite side, leaning against the railing in turn with her arms closed. The two of them regarded one another in silence.

“So,” Mae began, doing her best to break the awkwardness of the situation. “Bridge. Why bridge?”

“Far enough out we won’t be bothered,” Molly replied. Mae squinted at her, feeling alternately frightened and weirded out in turns.

“Uhh... Yeah, okay? This is weird. I don’t like it.”

“The list of things Mae Borowski doesn’t like could fill a book,” Molly retorted, rolling her eyes. “Lighten up, kid. I just wanted to have a talk with you.”

“Why? Gonna throw me back in jail?”

“Not unless you do more of the same stupid shit you’re always doing, no.”

Ouch. Mae scoffed, slouching further against the railing.

“Look, I know I messed up, okay? I know I’m, like, constantly messing up. I get it. I need to clean up my act, turn over a new leaf, blah blah blah. I know. I heard it from Dr. Hank, I heard it from my parents, I heard it from everybody, all right? I know,” Mae grumbled, her exasperation coming out much more clearly than she’d really wanted it to. How many more times was she going to have to hear this lecture? Bad enough her own brain was giving it to her day in and day out.

Molly’s impassive expression did not change in the least.

“You finished?” She asked after a moment, tilting her head slightly to one side as she looked at her niece.

“...Yeah,” Mae sighed, leaning her head back against the railing before slowly slumping to sit on the pavement, legs tucked up against her chest. “Whatever. Not like you’d get it.”

“Pff. You think I’ve always been a cop? Please,” Molly drawled, shaking her head slightly. “I was a little hellion like you, once. Well... maybe not quite like you, but I did my fair share of stupid bullshit when I was a kid. Got into fights. Vandalized property. Had a problem with authority. All the usual teenage drama.”

Mae quirked a brow and looked up at her.

“...Seriously?”

“Mm-hmm.”

“So... how’d you get into the whole cop business, then?”

“It was a pretty easy job, especially in a small town like this. Good job security with no need for some fancy college degree. And I got to help people, usually by getting awful people off the streets. Helped that my parents were real proud to see me walking around in that uniform, even if they weren’t real happy that I wasn’t going to get married and have kids like my sister.”

“Oh. Huh. Yeah, I never really thought about that, I guess,” Mae replied at length, furrowing her brow. “You never meet the right guy or something?”

Molly chuckled, rolling her eyes.

“It’s like your generation thinks they invented being queer or something,” she replied after a moment, dropping her arms from the railing to hook her thumbs on the pockets of her uniform trousers.

“...You’re...?” Mae started, her brows shooting up and her eyes widening as she pointed at her aunt in abject confusion.

“Anyway,” Molly replied, brushing past the question and looking down the road toward Possum Springs proper. “I just wanted you to know that things do get better, eventually. You went through hell the last year or so. College not working out. Getting tangled up in that mess last autumn. Friends moving away...” She paused there, giving Mae a pointed look as she pushed off the railing and stood up straight. “But I didn’t pay your bail last night just for you to go right back to the bad decisions you’ve been making, Mae. Things get better, but only if you put in the effort to make them better.

The world is full of some deep, dark shit. You got to experience some of it already. There’s plenty more where that came from. But you have to find the things worth holding on to, and then hold on for dear life. You still got one friend here in Possum Springs. Got a family that loves you... Make it count, that’s all I’m saying. Make it all worth something.”

She shrugged at this, then turned and started walking back toward the town.

“Or, y’know, don’t. In which case, you’ll be doing a lot more jail time. Choice is yours, kid.”

Mae watched as Molly left, her mind whirling with all sorts of questions and racing thoughts. Her aunt was... and she had... and there was...??? Still, at the end of it all, it had been some pretty solid advice. Make it count. She sighed, scrubbing her face with her hands, and slowly stood up--only to yelp when she was suddenly face-to-face with Germ.

“That was weird,” he chirped, cocking his head to one side.

“Jeez! Germ! You can’t just--I almost head a heart attack!”

“You think she knows I blew up the well?”

“I don’t--I don’t know, Germ. Probably not. I don’t even think she knows you exist,” Mae replied, hand still pressed firmly against her breastbone. “God. Okay. What are you--?”

“Going down,” he replied, pointing down over the railing of the bridge. “Wanna come?”

Mae hesitated, weighing her options. On the one hand: hell yes, Rabies and sewer adventure and weird mushy foresty-swampland. On the other... well. She had a lot she needed to do if she was going to make a real change in her life.

“Ugh,” she groaned, dragging her hands down her face. “Yeah, I want to, but I don’t think I can. Rain check?”

Germ shrugged, but his expression didn’t change.

“Sure. You know where it is,” he replied, only to hop over the railing and land a moment later with a squishy sort of thud in the mud. Mae watched him scurry off to the usual spot, ears drooping as she let out a long sigh.

“Man,” she muttered to herself as she slowly forced herself to turn away and start walking back toward the town. “Growing up sucks.”

Once more, she trekked up and down Towne Centre, visiting all of the local businesses and trying to convince them to hire her on in some capacity. Most of them could only offer minimum wage--some considerably less than that, like waitressing at the Clik Clak that would have her mostly dependent on tips. None of them were good options, but... well, they were options. Still, even after all her finagling and grand, awkward embellishments of her super good skills that would totally qualify her for this job thing... no one was chomping at the bit to hire her. In fact, she half-wondered if some of them were even listening to her.

Defeated, she started making her way back home, only to pause briefly when she came to the Ol’ Pickaxe. She didn’t dare go inside--not yet, not when things with Beatrice were still so fresh and raw and tenuous--but, as stealthily as she could manage, she peered into the huge windows and squinted to see inside. To her surprise, Mr. Santello himself was up at the counter, talking to a customer that had come in. He was showing off... something. Her knowledge of hardware was limited to “can use to smash” or “can be smashed with the right tool”. Despite her lack of knowledge about the product, however, she could definitely tell that things were looking up for the old guy. He seemed... brighter, more vibrant than he had when she had gone to visit Bea at home that one night. In fact, he was actually smiling when the customer took the--the whatever-it-was--from him and headed over to the register, where Bea was standing quietly.

In stark contrast to her father, Beatrice Santello looked like absolute shit. Shit warmed over, even. She forced a smile at the customer as she rang up the purchase, but Mae could see the heavy bags under her eyes and the weariness in her posture. She looked one-hundred percent exhausted. Not at all like the Beatrice Santello she knew and--...well. Not like the Bea she knew, anyway. With a frown, Mae pulled away from the glass and let out a deep sigh as she continued shuffling toward her house.

It was late by the time she arrived, having taken a few detours to wander around town and clear her thoughts. Her mother was already in bed, and her father had just recently gotten home from the Ham Panther. He looked tired, too; his heavy, solid frame slumped back against the couch, glasses halfway down his nose...

“Hey, dad,” she called, slipping into the living room and pausing in the doorway.

“Hello, Kitten,” he replied, a smile immediately brightening his features as he turned his head to look at her. “Garbo & Malloy is coming up. You want to watch with me?”

“Sure,” Mae said after a moment’s hesitation. She flopped down onto the couch beside him and sighed, feeling her own bones ache after a long day of running all over town.

“...How are you holding up, Mae? I know you’ve had a rough couple of nights.”

She chuckled, rubbing at her face before shrugging her shoulders and sinking deeper into the couch.

“I’m all right, I think. Just... growing pains. It’s hard being an adult.”

“Mm. Right you are. But it’s not all bad. Lots of good stuff about getting older, too,” he said, curling an arm around his daughter and pulling her close against him. “A little more independence. A little less identity crisis--well, most times, anyway. That still comes back every now and again. It’s sort of like playing in a band; once you find your sound and get into your groove, you’re golden. Takes awhile to get there, though. Lots of trial and error.”

Mae nodded, though she found herself half-wondering why every member of her family was full of advice today. Not that it was surprising, coming from her dad. He always had good advice. Sometimes couched in terrible puns, but good advice nonetheless. Or should she say... good dad-vice? Ugh, now she was doing it! No!

“Yeah, I just...” she finally started, her nose still wrinkled from that awful mental joke. “I dunno, it’s weird. It’s like everyone is judging me on stuff I did as a kid while expecting me to move on and be an adult? And then... Well... Dad, what do you do when someone you, uh... when a... when your friend is really upset and having a hard time, but you don’t know how to fix it and make it better?”

“That’s a tough one,” he replied, humming low in his throat as he rubbed at his chin. “Have you tried being a good listener? Sometimes, people just need someone to hear what they’re going through.”

“Well... I mean, I kinda tried that before, but... I don’t think she wants to talk to me about it.”

“Hmm. Sometimes, Kitten, there are things you just can’t fix. Sometimes, the other person has to work through it for themselves, and all you can do is be there for them while they go through some growing pains of their own.”

Mae didn’t like that answer. It was a good answer, technically, but... God. Being mature sucked, too.

“Yeah... okay,” she mumbled after a few moments had passed, blankly staring at Garbo and Malloy as they talked to themselves.

“...Is this about Beatrice?” Her father asked, eventually. Her ear twitched.

“Uhhh... maybe,” she replied, rubbing at her arm.

“You two have gotten close again,” he said, chuckling softly. “It’s good to see. You two were such good friends when you were kids. Her family has had such a hard time... I’m glad her father’s getting back on his feet again, though. It’s been a long time coming.”

“Uh-huh,” Mae grunted, squirming out of his arms to stand up. “Weeeell, I gotta go to bed!”

“You like her, don’t you?”

Mae came to a dead stop just before she reached the doorway, feeling her face flush ten different shades of red.

“Wh-what? Uh. Pff, I, uh... Me? Like... Beatrice? Haha. Ha. Uh...”

Her father chuckled, and she felt her blush darken as she kept her back to him. Oh, God. This was embarrassing.

“You know your mother and I support you, Kitten. Even if she does mention grandbabies in every second conversation,” he added, laughing outright now. “I’ve always thought you and Beatrice were closer than you let on.”

“Daaaaaad,” she groaned, rubbing at her face.

“All right, all right. Off you go, then. Goodnight, Kitten!”

“Yeah, okay! Night, dad!” She called, racing up the stairs and immediately flopping face-first onto her bed. Well. That wasn’t how she wanted all that to go down, but... hey, it was out in the open, now. That was nice. Now it was just... all up to Beatrice, she supposed. They were supposed to go out to dinner or lunch or whatever in a day or two, after all. And then... well, she was going to listen, if Beatrice would actually talk to her. And if not, she’d just wait. She’d be there for Beatrice, so long as Beatrice was willing to work through it.

Her parents loved her. They supported her. Hell, even Aunt Mall Cop was in her corner, apparently. Now, she just had to make it count.

Chapter Text

                There was a strange comfort in the monotony of routine: wake up, get dressed, force-feed yourself some kind of health bar thing that tasted like ass, brush your teeth, go to work, come home, try not to have a mental breakdown, fail, and eventually pass out. Repeat. Repeat. Repeat… The cycle continued, routine becoming ritual. Count the number of steps it takes to walk from the apartment to the Pickaxe. Should be the same every day. Only the customers fluctuated, and she found herself dealing less and less with them as she cloistered herself away in the sanctuary of the back room, continuously checking inventory like some sort of machine. Check. Check. Check again. The numbers had to be right. They all had to add up, line up, become something—find meaning in the numbers, find meaning in your worthless, pointless, pathetic life.

                She was supposed to meet Mae for dinner. Was supposed to pull herself together, hop in the car, drive them out of Possum Springs… but it was too much. She couldn’t. She… Her lips twitched as she lit up another cigarette, breathing deeply as she slowly climbed into the car and listened to the sound of the engine turning over. She closed her eyes, just for a moment. She dared not close them too long, now. There was… a hum, a sort of… garbled song, just on the edges of her hearing. When her eyes were closed, when she was left in the darkness of her own mind, the song swelled, consumed her.

                She did not drive to Mae’s house.

                The car rumbled down familiar pathways as the sun began to set. A few lone trees and the ghosts of abandoned buildings loomed over her, but she hardly noticed them as she pressed the gas pedal down with a little more force. She soared over small bumps in the road, her stomach leaping to her throat, and careened wildly down turns that should have been taken at a snail’s pace rather than the frantic race she had made of it.

                Iron gates rose large in her vision, and the car screeched to a halt. The gates were… closed. She shook her head, lit up another cigarette—the first now long gone—and climbed out of the car, leaving her door open in her absent-minded fog. How had Mae gotten over the gates before? She looked for a tree with a rotten branch, but there were none where she stood. Half-heartedly, she pressed her hand against the iron bars and took a deep, shaky breath. The heavy gate creaked open. Closed, she realized, but not locked.

                She slipped inside, cigarette smoke trailing behind her like the contrails of some passenger plane that lazily cut through the clouds above. Her hands trailed over stone humps that rose from the ground, eyes catching snippets of names and dates that now served as beacons, as guideposts. Turn left here at the tall monument that was topped with a broken statue of an androgynous angel. Take a right at the old man with the name she couldn’t pronounce. Down the hill, into the floodplain, where the newer dead slept at constant risk of drowning.

                There she was. Relief bubbled through the marrow of her tired bones, and she found herself slumping in front of the headstone with a deep, deep sigh.

                 The ground was soft, and slightly damp. A shiver ran down her spine as she cast her gaze down along the length of the plain, knowing just how easy it would be… After all, the flood had not happened that long ago. What would it be like? Wooden boxes drifting down rivers that had formed above cracked pavement, bony hands waving hello from just beneath their lids… She shook her head, clearing the image away, as she quietly put out the burning embers of her cigarette. It felt wrong to smoke here.

                “Mom,” she coughed out, her throat raw and sore—though she couldn’t put her finger on why that was. “I don’t… I don’t know what to do anymore. Dad’s getting better. He’s… he’s almost like his old self again. But I’m not. It’s like the better he gets…” She let the thought trail off into the vague chill of the early autumn air. She didn’t want to say it out loud; she didn’t want to worry her mother.

                “Mae likes me,” she continued, changing the subject as she idly rubbed at one eye. “Did you know that? Probably. You knew everything… even when I was completely oblivious. But… I don’t think Dad would…” again, the thought trailed off into the evening mist, and she let out a deep sigh as she shifted to slowly lay down on top of the grave, closing her eyes as she felt that horrible song building up in her skull.

                “…I like her, too. You think I’m going to hell, mom?” She paused, then scoffed a laugh as she curled up on the cold ground. “Pff. Going. I’m already there. Why didn’t you ever tell me life got so hard? Why didn’t you tell me that it wasn’t all going to be as easy as school was? That one day I was going to die here, just like you did? That you can’t make anything of yourself in Possum Springs? That you can’t ever leave? Why did you… why did you lie to me?”

                She was sobbing, now, her voice cracking with hurt and betrayal as she opened her eyes to glare at the name on the headstone and the tagline below it. Beloved mother. Some religious phrase followed, one that their whole family had repeated on an almost-daily basis—but the very thought of the words soured her stomach, and she couldn’t bring herself to read them.

                “Are you in hell, too? For lying?” The accusation shook her, and she suddenly fell silent.

                “…God, I hope not. I’m so sorry,” she whispered, staring wide-eyed at the stone. “I didn’t mean… I’m just so scared, mom. And I don’t know… that’s just it. I don’t know anything anymore. I used to… I had it all mapped out. Had my life penned and planned before I was sixteen. And now I’m too scared to even go to dinner with my best friend that’s in love with me.”

                Beatrice drew in a deep breath and rolled onto her back, looking up at the sky. The sunset was soft, tonight; pastel oranges danced with pale pinks as cotton-candy puffs of clouds allowed themselves to be pushed hither and thither by the gentle evening breeze.

                “Are you seeing this, too?” She asked after a long moment, glancing down at the ground. “Do you still see the sunset where you are?”

                She remembered another night, not too long ago. Remembered the way the sunset had been, then: dark and eerie, strangely foreboding as she and Angus and Gregg had gone to follow Mae’s trail when she had slipped out of the tiny apartment without their notice. Remembered the way she had threatened to kill a man if he so much as laid a finger on Mae again. Remembered the cold dampness of the air as they had wound their way down through twisted caverns and the remains of the old mine. She could still hear the conversation across the bottomless pit, vague shadows that looked almost human speaking to them of the monster that sang to them all.

                She remembered holding Mae in her arms, pulling desperately. The screech of the elevator rang in her ears. The earth rumbled around her. An arc of blood hung delicately in the air, and everything went black.

                “I almost died, too,” she half-whispered, eyes still closed. “For a minute… for just a minute, I could have sworn I saw your face again.”

                 Silence answered her, as it always did. But this time… it was okay. There was a sort of peace that lingered over her, like a warm blanket draped over her exhausted frame by a pair of loving arms. The sun faded over the edge of the horizon, and stars began to twinkle in the endless expanse of the night sky. Slowly, Beatrice let out a long breath and forced herself to sit up.

                 For a while, she simply sat and enjoyed the stillness of the cemetery; somewhere, not too far off, a cricket began to chirp. Wind whistled through the limbs of the trees that lent their shade to the dead. An entire symphony of life drowned out the endless dirge of death that sounded in her brain, and she closed her eyes and heard, for the first time in what felt like years… silence.

                Her breath came easier, now, and she turned to regard the headstone once more, eyes tracing over the religious phrase that had been carved so tenderly into the granite: This is not the end, not for me; No, I say, this is but wonderful new beginning.

                She felt herself begin to tear up again, overwhelmed by the sudden rush of memories and emotions that all warred with one another inside of her. Just as she was about to lose herself to the flood once more, a soft crack sounded nearby, and she found herself scrambling on the ground to find some way to defend herself. When she looked up, however, eyes wide and bloodshot from the tears that were now streaming down her cheeks, she saw… Mae Borowski, standing in between a pair of headstones and staring back at her, confusion written on her face.

                “Uh,” her friend murmured, bringing up a hand to rub the back of her neck. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you or whatever. I just… your dad said you hadn’t come home, and we were gonna do the food thing and…” There was a brief pause as the two young women stared at one another in the soft stillness of the graveyard.

                “Are you okay?” Mae finally asked, stepping closer.

                Bea laughed—shook her head—broke down into tears as she reached out for Mae across the gap between them. And there they were, now, their roles reversed from that godawful night in the mines. Mae clung tightly to Beatrice, softly murmuring reassurances, as Bea laughed and cried and let the tension and uncertainty flow out of her via the path of least resistance.

                “I am now,” Beatrice finally whispered, burying her head into Mae’s shoulder. “God… I’m sorry I’ve been such a… a fucking asshole, Mae. I’m just so… scared.”

                “Hey… it’s okay. I’m scared all the time, too,” Mae admitted, shrugging slightly. “Like you said before, life—like, real, actual, adult life—is terrifying as shit.”

                Beatrice chuckled, letting her tired body slump against Mae’s with a soft sigh.

                “Yeah. It… it really sucks.”

                They sat there together for some time, holding one another as the crickets chirped and stars twinkled overhead. All of the hurt, all of the chaos and drama and confusion, seemed to roll off of them like condensation from a cold Fiascola on a hot day. Had Bea been a little more of a believer in the supernatural, she would have said that she could have sworn she saw her mother smiling over them in the shadow of the moon above.

                “Hey, Mae?” Bea asked, her eyes still focused on the stars, tracing out patterns Mae had shown her only a few short weeks ago.

                “Hmm?” The other girl answered, voice groggy. It sounded like she had been starting to doze off.

                “…Can I come stay with you tonight? I don’t… I don’t want to go home just yet.”

                Mae was silent for a moment, then hugged Beatrice a little tighter as she tilted her head back and let out a wide yawn; she had been more stressed than she had let on, and it had taken its toll on her.

                “…Course you can, BeaBea. Gotta share a futon in the attic, though.”

                “That sounds better than trying to cram into the back of my car again, at least,” Beatrice offered, chuckling as she slowly pulled away and stood up to stretch.

                “Hey, that wasn’t so bad,” Mae retorted, grunting as she forced herself to her feet.

                “Says the girl who’s five-nothing. I don’t think my knees will ever be the same.”

                “…We should take another road trip next summer,” Mae said after a moment, her broad, toothy smile gleaming in the moonlight.

                Beatrice thought on this, hands reaching for a cigarette as she turned to start walking back toward those old iron gates.

                “You know what? Sure. It’s good to get away, sometimes.”

                “Yesssss,” Mae hissed, beaming as she followed right at Bea’s heels.

                This was… different. Something new, something Beatrice didn’t really know how to handle. But she couldn’t help but think, as she glanced back over her shoulder toward her mother’s grave, that everything was somehow going to turn out all right. As Mae sidled up beside her, Bea hesitated only a moment before slowly sliding an arm around her waist and drawing her close so that they could walk together.

                “Oooh, fresh,” Mae joked, leaning into her touch and making walking just that much more difficult than it really needed to be. Beatrice only laughed, taking a quick drag from her cigarette before turning to lean in and give Mae a warm kiss as they got back to the car.

                “…Thanks for coming after me again, Maeday.”

                Mae smiled, her eyes practically glowing in the pale light of the moon.

                “Anytime, BeaBea. Best possible friends in proximity, right?”

                “Mmm… More than that,” Bea replied, leaning in to give her another kiss.

Chapter Text

Beatrice woke to the familiar sound of Mae’s soft snoring. Sunlight filtered in through the thin curtains, dancing over their bodies as they lay curled up together on the small futon Mae had been using as a bed for the past who-knows-how-long. Bea couldn’t help but smile; in that moment, in the stillness of the mid-morning, she could have sworn that the whole world had finally slowed to a gentle stop. She lifted a hand to idly brush Mae’s tuft of red hair out of her face, chuckling when her nose twitched and she grunted, burying her face in the pillows.

Last night was still a bit of a fog. She remembered crying in the graveyard, remembered Mae blundering in... Vaguely remembered the drive back, the two of them laughing and blasting the radio. She remembered really stupid horror movies, curled up together on the futon. That goddamn Zombicles movie came on, and the two of them shared a look before nearly dying of laughter. She didn’t remember falling asleep, nor Mae’s laptop falling to the floor in the course of the night. But... well, she supposed she remembered all of the stuff that really mattered. Eventually, she would have to slink back home, face her father, face her issues... Eventually, she was going to have to get out of this damned futon. But Mae was here, and Beatrice finally understood what she had meant, saying that she was “home enough.”

With a soft sigh, she rested her chin on Mae’s chest. This was nice, she thought. It was definitely a feeling she could get used to, especially with the hell they had been through together. A few moments passed in lazy silence—thank God it was the weekend—before Mae finally began to stir, letting out a wide yawn and cracking open one eye to look at Beatrice.

“Mornin',” she muttered, still shaking off the remnants of sleep.

“Morning,” Bea repeated, a faint smile playing at her lips.

“What time is it?” Mae asked, voice tinged with grogginess as she squinted under the bright light that streamed in through her window. One hand fumbled for her laptop on instinct, only to give up after a few moments when she didn't find it.

“Who cares?”

Mae blinked, then grinned.

“I mean, that's fair,” she said, slowly slumping back against the futon.

The two of them regarded one another for a long moment as their emotional hangover from the night before created a little awkward tension in the air between them. Mae was the first to look away, and the first to break the silence.

“So,” she began, rubbing at her arm. “Are we, uh... are we a thing, now? Is that, uh... is that what this is? Because, y'know, I'm cool with it... with, uh, whatever you want. I mean, it's—“

“Yeah,” Beatrice replied, cutting off the impending ramble before it could really get started. It felt weird, talking about this sort of thing, but... Her heart still fluttered when she met Mae's eyes once more.

“Yeah?” Mae asked, ears flicking back.

“I guess so.”

“I mean—if you don't want to—“

“No, it's... this is good. It just feels kinda weird, is all. Not like I've exactly... done this. Ever.”

“Didn't you have that, uh... thing with the one guy, at your geeky math camp or whatever?”

Bea shook her head slightly, unwilling to move too much now that she had made herself perfectly comfortable.

“It wasn't like that. It was just... an opportunity thing.”

“Oh. Okay. Yeah,” Mae said, shoving a hand through her short hair. There was a brief pause as they each let the idea sink in; then, all at once, Mae's features broke out into a bright Cheshire smile.

“Does that mean I can call you my giiiiirlfriend?” She asked, beaming.

Beatrice gave her a flat look in response, though she couldn't help the faint trace of a smile that tugged at the corner of her lips. For a moment, Mae's smile faltered, and Bea could see the sudden anxiety beginning to bubble under the surface.

“Only if I can call you mine,” she said, breaking the silence with a perfect deadpan delivery.

Mae blinked, brow furrowing for just a moment before she burst into laughter and threw her arms around Bea to hug her tight. Bea laughed with her, returning the fierce embrace. This was good, she thought. This was worth it. Worth all the bickering, the years of not talking, the road trip and the anguish and the doubt... This was a payoff worth playing for.

“Oh my God, Gregg's gonna freak,” Mae half-hollered after a moment of silent hugging. Beatrice could feel her practically vibrating from excitement. “And Angus! Oh, man, I bet he cries. He looks like a crier, you know? Only not in front of people. Big ol' softy.”

Bea only nodded, murmuring agreements here and there as she watched Mae—her girlfriend! God, that was weird—ramble on enthusiastically about everything that came to mind. For her part, she was content simply to hold and be held, no matter how much the anxiety that lurked in the back of her mind started to scream. Her father would find out eventually, and when he did... She shook her head slightly, clearing the thought away. She did not want to think about that, right now. Not when she was finally almost happy, for once.

She noticed the sudden quiet, and glanced up to see that Mae had paused in her bubbling diatribe in order to regard her with mingled affection and concern. That was another thing she liked about Mae: her face was an open book, and her emotions were always written so clearly upon it.

“You okay, BeaBea?”

Beatrice took a breath, then nodded as she collected herself again. Slowly, she forced herself to sit up, feeling that familiar tremor starting up in her hands. She was nervous, but she hated to admit it—especially now. Damn it, didn't she deserve just a few minutes to be happy without having to worry about the impending freakout?

“Yeah,” she lied, slowly pulling away from Mae and rolling her shoulders. “I just... need a cigarette, that's all. I'll go outside, though.”

“Oh,” Mae said, unconvinced. “Sure. Uh... I guess I can go see what the brunch situation is, while you go do that.”

Beatrice paused halfway through stretching, brow quirking as she turned to look at Mae.

“What? Brunch?”

“Well, yeah! I mean, you gotta celebrate good things with good food, right? And it's probably too late for breakfast-breakfast. Brunch is classy, anyway. Though, uh... let's be fair, it's just gonna be breakfast food served later in the day than it probably should be. We are a simple folk here in Casa de Borowski.”

Bea blinked at her, brow slowly furrowing as she glanced toward the door. That sick feeling bubbled up in her stomach, and she took another deep breath as she tried to force the panic back down.

“Aren't your parents...?” She began, folding her arms so as not to betray the way her hands were shaking.

“Huh? Oh—yeah, I mean, it's the weekend. Mom may pop by the church later, but dad's taking the day off. Which is good, because, like... we would both be super dead from about twenty-seven different kinds of food poisoning if I cooked. So. Y'know.”

“...Yeah, but...” Beatrice continued feebly, gesturing at the door with one hand. She felt like she was on the verge of breaking out into a cold sweat, or just... passing out cold. “Won't... won't they be, uh...”

Mae tilted her head to one side, confusion written across that damnably adorable open-book face of hers. Bea let out a sharp sigh, gritting her teeth as she rubbed her face. Get it together, Bea, she told herself, trying to count breaths and failing.

“Mae,” she finally said, voice coming out a little harder than she meant it to. “You're gay.”

“Uh. Duh? Well, pansexual, though,” she pointed out, shrugging as she stood up. “I looked it up,” she added after a moment's pause, with no small amount of self-satisfaction.

Beatrice stifled a frustrated groan.

“Whatever,” she snapped, only to wince slightly at herself and backtrack a little. “What I'm trying to say, is... Aren't your parents going to have a... a problem with that?”

Mae blinked, and Beatrice felt her face flush as the moment of awkward silence between them stretched on for an uncomfortably long time.

“Oh,” Mae finally said, her ears pressing back as she glanced away. “Is that what this is about? No, uh... My parents are cool. We kinda, um... we talked about it a little bit? Sort of. Um. It was weird. My mom isn’t, like, thrilled or anything, but, y’know. She’s cool with it. I mean, I’ve disappointed them in every other conceivable way, so me turning out to be queer wasn’t really that big a deal, I guess? Especially compared to, y’know. Bashing a kid’s head in. Dropping out of college after they worked really hard to pay for it...”

She paused, shrugging, as she hooked her thumbs in her pockets as she looked down at the floor.

“Anyway. Uh. Yeah, no. My parents are... they know. And they’re okay with me being... y’know. Me. Fucked up as I may be.”

Beatrice frowned slightly, conflicted emotions arising all over the place as she stared at Mae. She had almost forgotten that the person who hated Mae Borowski the most, out of all the people in the world, was Mae Borowski herself. She sighed as she turned and headed for the door; the sick, fluttering feeling in her stomach hadn’t gotten any better, even with Mae’s reassurances. She just needed some fresh air and nicotine. That was all. Then she’d be fine.

Mae hesitated only a moment before following her down the stairs. Her footsteps were so damned heavy. Girl didn’t know the meaning of the word subtle. Or quiet.

“Is your dad not...?” Mae asked on the stairs, only to yelp when Beatrice stopped cold mid-step. The two of them almost collided, but Mae caught herself just in time. Bea opened her mouth to speak, only to find her voice catching in her throat when she heard Mae’s parents bustling around downstairs. Their lazy weekend atmosphere had not been shattered by anxiety, clearly. Beatrice shook the slightly bitter thought off, turned to continue walking--and grimaced when Mae’s mother’s voice called up.

“Well! Look who’s up early! Come say hello, hon.”

Mae and Bea shared a look on the stairs.

“We’ll talk about this later,” Beatrice hissed quietly, hand reaching to grab the pack of cigarettes and her lighter out of her pocket as she turned to scurry down the stairs and out the front door. As she closed the heavy door behind her, leaving the whole trio of Borowskis inside, she heard Mae’s father’s voice rumble from somewhere in the small house: “Was that Beatrice?”

She sighed as she moved away from the door, sitting on the curb near her car as she lit up and took a deep drag off her cigarette. She just needed to settle her nerves. Get it together, she commanded, shutting her eyes tight. All at once, she felt as if the world was crashing down around her again, threatening to crush her under the weight of it all. It was too much. It was too much, and she couldn’t... she was never going to...

But then she remembered Mae. Mae, who walked all the way to the graveyard to find her at one of her lowest points, and helped her back up. Mae, who had hunted her down after she had run away from that stupid party she had crashed with Jackie’s help. Mae, who had been through hell and back with her... and still wanted to be with her. Slowly, the world turned right-side up again, and Beatrice found herself breathing more easily as she took another long, deep drag from her cigarette and opened her eyes again.

Mae was here. Mae was home. And that was enough, somehow, to make everything okay--at least here, now, in this moment. Everything was going to be okay. She sighed, letting smoke billow from her mouth in roiling clouds. She had only smoked about half the cigarette, but that was enough. As she shifted to stand once more, she took a moment to grind the rest of the cig out on the concrete, then flicked the remainder of the dead butt out into the street. She hesitated a moment, steeling her nerves as she turned to look at the Borowskis’ cute little house.

Finally, she shook her head and turned to walk back through the front door.

As she peered into the house, she heard laughter emanating from the small kitchen in the back. The rich smell of pancakes and frying bacon filled the air, and she paused just a moment to breathe in the scent.

“Mae, honey, no--”

“I’m gonna flip it! It’s gonna be great! Watch, watch, watch. I got this!”

A grunt of effort, followed shortly by the soft slapping sound of a pancake falling onto a plate.

“Ha ha! Yes! Nailed it!”

“Nicely done, Kitten,” Bea heard Mr. Borowski say, laughter dancing in his voice.

As she drew closer, made her presence known, everything paused for a brief moment. Three similar faces all turned to regard her at once, and it took all of her strength not to wince where she stood.

She cleared her throat. Get it together.

“H-Hello, Mr. & Mrs. Borowski,” she began, voice wavering only slightly. “I’m... sorry to just barge in on you like this--”

Mae’s mother did not let her say another word. With tears gleaming in her eyes, the older woman crossed the distance between them in three short strides and gathered Beatrice up in her arms, enfolding her in a warm, motherly hug. Beatrice felt her lip begin to quiver--but she would not cry, damn it. Why was her body betraying her like this?

“Give the girl some room to breathe, dear. You’re crushing the life out of her,” Mr. Borowski chided gently, though his eyes sparkled from beneath the thick lenses of his glasses.

“We’re making pancakes,” Mae offered, trying her best to clear away the awkwardness of the situation as her mother pulled away and wiped at her eyes.

“That’s right. Will you be joining us for brunch, Beatrice?” Mr. Borowski asked.

Bea looked between them for a moment, then took another deep breath to steady herself as her eyes finally came to rest on Mae. Her friend--no, girlfriend, she had to get used to that, still--gave her a lopsided smile, and she couldn’t help but smile in return. Home. This was okay. They were going to be okay.

“Yes,” she said, clearing her throat again. “Yes, please. If you don’t mind,” she added quickly, remembering her manners.

“Oh, sweetheart,” Mrs. Borowski cried, flailing a batter-covered spatula in her general direction, “you are always welcome in our house! It’s so good to have you around again! I feel like I haven’t seen you in ages.”

Mae snorted a laugh, and Beatrice chuckled as she moved to join the little tableau of the happy, hardworking family. Together, they poured and flipped pancakes while the bacon sizzled in the other fry pan. Together, they laughed and shared stories of their adventures between bites of breakfast-turned-brunch and quick gulps of fresh-squeezed orange juice. And, for the first time since her mother had passed away, Beatrice finally felt like part of a real family again--and, as she and Mae held hands under the table, balancing one another as they recounted some of their favorite, most appropriate moments from their road trip earlier in the year, Beatrice found that she finally, truly, felt happy.

She finally believed that she was making a new life worth building, even after the old one had fallen apart so completely and crumbled to dust that threatened to choke her. She just... had to get her shit together, and make sure that this was going to last. She had Mae. She had her father. She had the Borowskis...

...all that was left was to take the opportunity and make something new out of the ashes of the old.

Chapter Text

Things were better than ever, as far as Mae was concerned. She and Beatrice had gotten into the habit of having little ‘dates’ together at least twice a week, and they usually involved either driving a little ways out of town to explore new places to eat or crashing in Mae’s glorious attic bachelorette pad to watch some terrible movies on the laptop. Aside from the generally tentative nature of all new relationships (and Bea’s occasional anxiety flare-up when she thought about what her father might think), the two of them were happy together--and closer than ever before.

So, not wanting to waste this sudden and wonderful upswing of her luck, Mae found herself diving headfirst into the wonderful world of internet research on mental health support every day she spent without Bea. To be fair, ‘research’ was a bit of an inflation, since it really mostly involved a whole lot of internet searches and poking around on forums (never go to the faux-health sites, she told herself, or risk winding up diagnosing yourself with twenty different deadly diseases), but... Still! Research! Progress! Science! Just being with Bea made her want to be a better person, and all the late nights digging around in the endless archives of “oh, same symptoms, did you ever get a diagnosis?” was worth it when she thought of the life they could build together once she was better. There was no way that she could get a decent job like she was; she had to get her issues under control, first.

She devoured psychological studies (most of which she understood maybe thirty words of and wound up spending most of the time on the online dictionaries than she did on the actual articles), self-help blogs from “survivors” of various mental illnesses, meditation websites (control the monkey-mind and find success, they claimed), and more mental health forums than she could shake a stick at. Still, she covered as many bases as she could, day in and day out, until she started to come to the slow, curious realization that the only chains that were binding her were the ones that she had crafted for herself under the misconceptions and negativity she had held for so many years. Possum Springs wasn’t a tireless vacuum--it was just another of her self-imposed chains, and one that she was going to work as hard as she could to break.

It wasn’t always easy; some days, she found herself struggling with the shapes that lingered like horrible specters at the edges of her mind, and it took all she had to make them go away and let the world coalesce into something meaningful once more. Some days, she snapped at her parents in a sudden flare of toothless anger, then forced herself to apologize later in the day when she eventually acknowledged that she had been in the wrong. And some days, the worst days of them all,--after the peaks of crazed energy that had sent her running all over Possum Springs, Queen of the World--she could barely pull herself out of bed, and found herself useless for the rest of the day. On those days, she messaged Gregg, and he always got back to her with words of either encouragement or commiseration as soon as he got off of work for the day.

Despite the bad days, however, she felt that there was an overall improvement in progress. She was finally making her way forward rather than mindlessly spinning her wheels in the dead-end pit of Possum Springs while the rest of the world moved on without her. Best of all, Beatrice had started to notice the changes, as well.

“So I think it’s helping,” Mae was saying as she stuffed a fistful of french fries into her mouth. “I feel like... I’m on the ups, you know? Like... it’s hard, yeah, but it feels like it’s getting easier. And I think maybe I kinda know what I’m up against with my stupid jerk brain. I dunno, it’s just... it’s kind of a nice feeling?”

“No, I get it,” Bea replied, idly puffing on her cigarette as she watched Mae finish up what little was left over from their shared meal. “You definitely seem like you’re feeling better, anyway. Maybe I need to get in on this recovery train. You can show me some of the stuff you’ve found.”

“Really?” Mae asked, pausing in her relentless consumption of diner junk food. “You want to do this stuff with me?”

“Sure,” Bea said, shrugging. “You know more than I do about it all, at this point. Maybe I’ll pick up a few pointers I can use. God knows I have enough of my own issues.”

Mae grinned and went to respond, only to blink when Beatrice started coughing--and not just coughing coughing, but practically hacking up a lung. She watched helplessly as her girlfriend wheezed and sputtered, stubbing out what little was left of her cigarette and grabbing a napkin to cough into. Mae’s smile immediately contorted into a concerned grimace.

“BeaBea? Are you okay?”

Beatrice only nodded, unable to speak as the coughing persisted.

“...Bea?”

Finally, voice hoarse and ragged, Beatrice leaned back in her seat and answered her.

“I’m... I’m fine. Just... the weather. Changing again,” she muttered, clearing her throat.

Mae glanced at the ashy butt of the cigarette on the table and crinkled up her nose before returning her gaze to Beatrice. Those damn medical websites spiraled through her memory with visions of hairy tongues and black lungs...

“Bea... Look, I’m worried about you. You’ve been coughing a lot more, lately, and it feels like it’s getting worse every single time you do it.”

Beatrice rolled her eyes, folding her arms over her chest as she looked away.

“I’ll go to the doctor tomorrow,” she lied, and Mae flicked her ears back as her eyes narrowed.

“No, you won’t. You’ve been saying that for a week straight.”

“Mae, I told you. I’m fine. I can handle myself. Did so for the past twenty-something years, anyway.”

For a moment, Mae hesitated. She remembered the fights they had had before, remembered how they had stopped talking--remembered how bad it hurt to have Beatrice Santello’s withering glare directed at her, practically turning her to ash. But... this was different. Her mouth set into a hard line, and she glared at Beatrice from across the table. She was working to get better, damn it; each and every day, she had been trying to figure out how to deal with her issues, inching her way closer and closer to the border between “functional” and “normal”. She wanted to get better. But Beatrice? She was still basically the same way she had been, even before their nightmare weeks from hell, and it wasn’t normal. It was barely even functional.

“Okay,” Mae began, leaning over the table toward Bea as her red eyes flashed in the fluorescent overhead lights. “I’ll get off your back and start teaching you some stuff about how to cope with whatever, if I can remember where the good stuff is... But you have to do your part, too.”

“Well, yeah,” Bea agreed, nodding as she reached for the can of Fiascola that sat in front of her. “I don’t expect you to heal me or an--”

“You gotta promise you’ll give up smoking.”

Bea nearly spat out her drink.

“Wh--What? What the hell, Mae?”

“You heard me!” A pause. Then, Mae sighed and slumped back into the booth, her eyes sliding away from her girlfriend and onto the dingy vinyl tiles of the diner floor. “Bea... look, I’m really worried about you, okay? Your mom died from cancer, and she didn’t even smoke. That stuff is, like... it runs in families. And it’ll be a lot quicker and worse for you, if you don’t stop. I just... I want you to... God, Bea. I don’t know,” she cried, flailing her arms in the air in frustration. “I don’t want you to just--die! I wanna grow up and be terrible old women together, someday! We’ll make fun of teenagers and corner the rackets in the old folks’ homes! It’s no fun being Queen of the Old People by yourself.”

“Wait, what? What racket--”

“That’s not the point, Beatrice! Jeez! The point is--the point is that I just... want you to be okay.” Mae huffed a deep breath as she raked her fingers through her scruffy hair. “I just want you to be okay, and I don’t know what else I can do.”

Beatrice stared at her for a moment, then cleared her throat as she grimaced and reached out to take another drink of her soda.

“Okay. I hear you,” she said. “But... they help me stay calm.”

Mae rolled her eyes.

“Oh my God, Beatrice. I love you and all, but you’ve been a total mess lately. I really don’t think the smoking thing is helping much. And I say that as a person who literally called herself a trash mammal in a drunken stupor at a bonfire party.”

“Well,” Beatrice began, fingers kneading the fabric of her black dress. “I mean... yeah. Granted, I’ve been... pretty shit, lately. But it helps.”

Mae sighed, her ears drooping in defeat.

“...At least think about it? I don’t wanna lose you, BeaBea.”

Beatrice hesitated, and the two of them stared at one another across the shiny resin table filled with old-timey pictures of things in the county that, by and large, no longer existed. Mae could practically see Bea’s entire thought process reflected in her dark eyes--could see the war her girlfriend was waging against herself. Finally, after what felt like an eternity had passed in painfully uncomfortable silence, Bea reached across the table and covered Mae’s hand with her own.

“...Okay,” she said, dragging the word out as if it was physically painful to say. “I’m... I’ll at least try to cut back a little. We’ll see where it goes from there. That’s all I can promise right now.”

Mae perked up at this, grinning as she grabbed hold of Bea’s long-fingered hand with both of her own.

“Really? Promise?”

“Yeah,” Beatrice sighed. “I promise. But this is gonna be hell.”

“Well, yeah! No one said getting better was easy. But I’ll be right here with you, every step of the way! I’ll do research!”

Bea chuckled, then smirked as she sat up a little straighter in the booth. Mae was immediately suspicious, and squinted at her girlfriend as she cleared her throat to speak once more.

“And... I think we should make a deal.”

“What? What kind of deal?”

Beatrice smiled.

“I’ll work on trying to give up the whole smoking and getting my shit together thing if... you promise to work on getting healthier, too.”

Mae blinked, glancing down at the roundness of her belly as it pooched out under the table.

“...Are you calling me fat, Beatrice?”

“What? No! No, no,” Beatrice said, laughing. “But, I mean... let’s be honest: you eat a lot of shit food. When was the last time you even touched a vegetable?”

“My own girlfriend, fat-shaming me in this super-romantic greasy spoon diner!” Mae continued dramatically, pressing valiantly on over Bea’s flustered explanations. She inwardly admitted that Beatrice had a point; one could not live entirely on tacos and pizza, no matter how much she tried to pretend that she could. If anyone other than Beatrice had said it, though, they would have been eating a knuckle sandwich followed by a lifetime of pure-liquid diet due to sudden lack of teeth.

“Oh my God, I’m not fat-shaming you,” Beatrice protested. “I’m just saying that we should get healthy together. I need to eat better, too. Microwave dinners suck.”

Mae squinted at her, then broke out into a broad smile.

“You know what? I think that’s an awesome idea. I’ve always wanted to get, like, pro-wrestler levels of buff. Smash capitalism with my bare hands. Pick up heavy things and throw them at the rich fat cats that boldly strut around our fair town with their sacks full of ill-gotten gains!”

“So... basically the socialist Hulk, then?” Bea drawled, quirking a brow even as amusement danced in her eyes.

“Hell yes! My finishing move will be making my enemies eat the entire Communist Manifesto, page by miserable page! Rahhhh...”

“Wait--but communism and socialism are two different things.”

“Whatever, Beatrice! It’s wrestling!”

“That’s no excuse for blatant ignorance,” Beatrice argued.

Before they knew it, they were embroiled in a fierce debate that somehow incorporated the finer points of theatrical wrestling, philosophy, political ideologies, and Man’s personal responsibility to Man (while beating the shit out of one another in a small ring in front of thousands of screaming fans). When they finally left the restaurant and went back to Mae’s for the evening, Beatrice insisted on showing Mae a documentary that was all about Soviet Russia... but they wound up missing over half of it when they found themselves getting lost in one another, instead.

Mae definitely learned a thing or two about Beatrice that night: one, that Bea was really passionate about history and political stuff; two, that Bea really loved to debate, even when her partner refused to take the exercise seriously; and, three, that Beatrice Santello was incredibly hot when she was arguing about the kind of stuff that she was so fiercely passionate about. It had been a very productive “research” session, that was for sure...

“You know, you should go to school for that stuff,” Mae said as she scurried up the hill that she had hiked with Angus, once upon a time. “You’re really good at all that politics and history and stuff.”

When she came to a large rock off the side of the trail, she immediately scaled it to the top and turned to look back down at Bea, who was still inching her way up the hill.

“Good God, this... this sucks,” Beatrice grumbled, just barely audible as she paused at the rock that Mae had chosen for her perch.

“It’s not that bad,” Mae argued, shifting to sit down on top of the rock and dangling her legs over the edge.

“I forgot that you got around most days by hopping over rooftops like some crazed vigilante...”

“Hey, it's the best way to travel. No traffic.”

“Fair,” Bea wheezed, half-laughing. “Geez. I guess I’m the one that’s out of shape, here.” She turned to lean back against Mae’s rock, looking up at Mae as best she could from her poor vantage point, and, after a moment, finally addressed the earlier school-related proposal.

“I don’t know that I’d really want to study history, though. Or politics. I mean... what can you really do with it when you graduate? Teach? Work for a government office? Ehhh...”

“I dunno,” Mae replied, shrugging. “But you really love it.”

“Yeah. I do. But it isn’t going to pay the bills, and I’d just be wasting money going to school to learn more about it all.”

“Psh. We can figure out bills. That’s easy stuff. I’ll just work, like, twelve jobs. All the jobs. Every single job, Beatrice.”

“Mae,” Bea chuckled, shaking her head, “you don’t even have one job.”

“Hey. I know. I’m working on it. One step at a time, right?”

“Right...”

Bea paused for a moment, idly sweeping her gaze along the scenic trail that dazzled with autumn colors. Then, without looking back up at Mae, she spoke again:

“Would you really do that?”

“Huh? Do what?”

“You know... work more jobs, just so I could go to school?”

“Oh! Yeah, for sure! I mean, I don’t think college is for me, at this point. I’d probably suck at it, and I don’t even really know what I’d want to study, either. I don’t have a thing like you do.”

“You were smart,” Bea began to argue. “You could probably handle it, if--”

“Things got really hard for me the further I got in school, and not just because of the whole ‘my brain’s a giant asshole’ thing,” Mae replied, looking up toward the sky. “I’m just not meant for school, I think. Probably the best I can hope for is finding a nice job and trying to support my family with it. Hey! Maybe I could be a janitor at the college and you could go cheap or something!”

Beatrice frowned, looking up at Mae.

“What if we went together?” She asked, folding her arms over her chest.

Mae blinked, looking down at Beatrice for a moment before sliding down off the rock to stand next to her girlfriend.

“...You really think I could?”

With a smile, Beatrice curled her arm around Mae and leaned in to kiss her head.

“If you want to. I can definitely help out with school stuff. I used to tutor for community service hours back in high school, and I pretty much got straight A’s, so...”

Mae grinned from ear to ear as she leaned against Beatrice happily.

“Maybe,” she said, tilting her head up to kiss Bea’s cheek. All this college stuff was really a conversation to be having later, though; for now, they could just focus on today--on getting healthy, on getting their shit together, on building a relationship together.

“Hey, Bea--if you could do literally anything right now, what would it be?”

Have a cigarette was the first thought that popped into Beatrice’s mind, and Mae knew it. She watched as her girlfriend shook her head slightly, fingers twitching with desire toward the pocket of her black dress where her cigs and lighter usually resided. She hadn’t had a single one today.

“Uh... well... I don’t know,” Beatrice began, glancing up toward the sky and seeing the first rosy fingers of sunset beginning to creep across the clouds. “...Skydiving, I guess,” she finally said, though there was no conviction in her words.

“Really?” Mae asked, unconvinced as she tilted her head to one side.

“...Yeah. Sure.” Bea replied, shrugging one shoulder.

“Huh. Never took you for the thrill-seeking sort. Oh! Hey, there’s a pretty cool amusement park not too far from Bright Harbor we could visit sometime! They’ve got this roller coaster that flips you every which way, so it feels like you’re flying! I mean... I haven’t ever been or anything, but that’s what I’ve heard, anyway. It’s not quite skydiving, but... close enough, right?”

Bea chuckled, ruffling Mae’s hair.

“Yeah, sure. I’d like that.”

Mae beamed at her, then glanced up when she noticed the sky beginning to light up with brilliant oranges that danced with scarlet along the bottoms of the fluffy autumn clouds.

“Oh. I guess it’s about time to go home, huh?”

Beatrice nodded, slowly loosening her hold on Mae as she pushed off the rock with a sigh.

“Oh, joy. More hiking down this stupid hill. God. Tell me again why we decided this was a good idea?”

“Because you said we should get healthy by walking out in the fresh air some time,” Mae pointed out, hanging back a moment as she found herself looking out into the deep woods that surrounded the trail. She remembered... remembered the horrible man in the hood and mask, staring from the trees as she and Angus had turned and run for their lives. She remembered the chase, which bled into another frantic flight, days later, as gunshots rang out all around her. She remembered... falling.

“Right,” Beatrice drawled, though her voice sounded miles away. “If I ever have a bright idea like that again, just kill me.”

Kill me. KILL ME.

Mae grabbed hold of her head as reality pitched and fell sharply away from her. Trees fragmented into a kaleidoscope of shapes and colors, and she looked up in a panic to see the moon glowering down at her from the black space higher above the searing light of the setting sun. That song--that song! It was in her head, it was in the woods, it was deep in the blackness of that bottomless pit in the depths of the old, broken mine, two feet away from hell itself. And it was furious. Triumphant. Hungry.

“Shut up,” Mae snarled, counting breaths like she remembered reading as she desperately tried to ground herself. This wasn’t real, this wasn’t happening, this was... was...

The sound of a gunshot and the horrible screech of the broken elevator drooping in its shaft merged into one horrible, echoing noise that bounced around in her brain, and she saw his face in the red flash of the emergency light. He stared at her through the delicate arch of blood as his arm was sheared off, eyes milky white and glaring from rotting sockets. There was a sudden stillness in the darkness as the walls caved in all around her--crushing, suffocating... A pair of dead-white eyes gleamed through the gloaming and the murk, waiting. Watching.

The Black Goat’s song rose in a dizzying crescendo, and Mae screamed--and screamed, and screamed, until her lungs were empty and her throat was burning. She heard Beatrice--or what sounded like Beatrice--calling her name, speaking in reality and in memory as voices overlapped and intertwined like snakes crawling through the cavern walls. Everything began to fade away, leaving her gasping for breath as the memories of her own personal hell lingered over her like some horrible death shroud.

“Mae! Oh, God, are you okay? Hey. Hey! Answer me,” Bea was pleading, her voice high and frantic as it issued from the shambling mass of shapes that only vaguely resembled the young woman Mae knew.

“I heard him,” Mae croaked in response, clinging to the cylinder that held fast to her. She closed her eyes in quiet surrender, too tired to fight against the shapes-that-sort-of-looked-like-Beatrice as they enfolded her. When she felt her limp body slowly being lifting off the ground, she heard Bea whisper something that sent horrible chills down her spine:

“I heard it, too.”

She slept, then, lost to the Black Goat’s ominous lullaby...

Chapter Text

                Mae woke, gasping for breath--and there was Beatrice, stroking her hair and holding her tight, trying everything she could to ward off the nightmare Mae couldn't quite remember having. She squeezed her eyes shut, still panting, trying to make sense of it all. Just when things were almost okay, just when the two of them were finding some kind of new normal together... Ugh. Was she never going to get away from this bullshit? Was this just her life, now? Black Goat everywhere she went, song filling up her head and making the world explode into shapes worse than ever before? Tears ran down her cheeks--pure, liquid frustration--and she whimpered an apology as Bea kissed them away.

                "It's okay," Beatrice murmured, fingers running through her girlfriend's tufted hair as they lay tangled in one another's arms--not on her futon, as Mae had half-expected, but rather in the back of the car, like they had been at the start of the road trip. Had this all been some sort of dream? Was none of it real? But there was Bea again, kissing her cheek--and that was real enough. "It's okay," she repeated, and Mae took a deep, shaky breath as she tried to make out Bea's shapes against the darkness.

                Even as Bea tried to be reassuring, however, Mae could hear the faint quiver in her half-voiced words.

                "No," she replied at length, shaking her head slightly as she reached out to wrap her arms around Bea and pull her closer. "No, it's not. It's not okay. He's... he's here--he's out there, and he knows about you now, and... I messed up, Bea. I messed up... I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to--"

                "Shh," Beatrice urged, bringing a hand up to brush over Mae's cheek as their lips met in the dark. Mae found herself melting into the kiss, her arms snaking their way up around Bea's neck as they had done several times before. It was cramped, the two of them shoved into the back of the tiny sedan as they had been on the road far outside of Possum Springs, and Mae could feel the fingers of panic clawing at her, threatening to swallow her alive if she got caught up in it--but they were together, bodies pressed close with limbs intertwined, and their tongues danced with one another to staunch the tidal wave of words that neither of them wanted to say. Relief bled into exhaustion bled into fear... and Mae couldn't separate one emotion from the other any more than she could separate herself from Beatrice at the moment.

                Bea was the first to finally pull away, only to bury her face into Mae's shoulder as the sound of their ragged breaths filled the car. Mae leaned her head against Bea's in turn, her eyes still fighting against the darkness to make sense of the shapes of her girlfriend pressed against her.

                "Thank God you're all right," Beatrice whispered, fingers tangling into Mae's red-tipped hair. "I didn't know what to do... you weren't waking up, I was about to take you to the hospital or something..."

                Mae scoffed a laugh, though there was no happiness behind it.

                "Yeah, that happens," she said, shaking her head slightly as she tried to ground herself with Bea's warmth. God only knew she had had enough of hospitals for the past year or two. If she never walked into another one again, it would be too soon. "Really glad you didn't, by the way. Hospital, that is. I hate hospitals," she muttered, hugging Bea a little tighter to her.

                They sat in silence for a few moments, breathing each other in as they tried to make sense of it all. Finally, Bea tilted her head to look at her, and Mae met her eyes in the faint moonlight that was coming in through the car windows.

                "...Was that the... that... that thing in the mines?"

                Mae frowned, not responding as she let her gaze fall away, her fingers tracing idle patterns on Beatrice's shoulder. She felt Bea staring at her, still, and she took in a deep breath. She didn't want to talk about the thing in the mines. She didn't want to drag Bea even further into her personal hell than she already had. She had heard him, and that... that couldn't mean anything good.

                "What do we do?" Bea asked, voice softer now.

                For a moment, Mae said nothing. Then, she shrugged, nuzzling her face against Beatrice's neck--a distraction, a comfort, a desire...

                "I dunno," she finally admitted, sighing as she let her eyes close again--not that it really mattered, since she could barely see anything to begin with. Beatrice hugged her a little tighter in response, and the two of them lay together in silence for a long time, breaths coming more easily now as they held one another in the dark.

                What did they do, last time? Chase ghosts into the mine, break up some weird murder cult of old dads, watch a man die and come to the sickening realization that everyone else down there had probably died, too? Try to ignore the song she still heard in her dreams, try to pretend none of it was real, that it was all just in her head--gas leaks and mental illness are a dangerous combination--and that ghosts didn't exist, that Possum Springs wasn't dying, after all... Cling desperately to anything that felt normal, even as it started to melt away like your tenuous grasp on reality. Cling to anything that mattered.

                Her train of thought drifted away as Beatrice trailed her lips over her neck, as if asking some sort of unvoiced question. Mae drew in a shuddering breath, fingers trailing down her girlfriend's spine as she slowly turned her head to capture Bea's wandering lips into another warm kiss--an equally silent answer. They needed one another, now more than ever. Cling to anything that mattered... The only thing that mattered, especially now, was Beatrice. She gasped as fingertips found their way to bare skin, sending sparks shooting like fireworks throughout her body, reminding her that, somehow, despite everything, she was still alive--and she wasn't dreaming, either. Bea's weight shifted above her in the cramped confines of the car, but they made it work as Mae clung to her like her life depended on it (which she was half beginning to believe was the truth).

                Beatrice breathed her name into her ear, and that was all it took. They drowned their fears in tender caresses, losing themselves to the sweetest sort of surrender beneath the tidal wave of confused emotion. She wasn't sure how long it lasted, and wasn't sure it even mattered--but, finally, exhausted and content in equal measure, they settled in together, snuggling up close, and slept. And this time, they dreamed of... nothing. Whether it was the good sort of nothing or the ominous, terrifying sort, it was hard to say...

                When they woke, dawn was just beginning to streak its warm light across the grey-purple haze of twilight. Reluctantly, after sharing a few more kisses in their tight quarters, they separated and made their way back to the front of the car. Bea, of course, slipped into the driver's seat, hands gripping the wheel tightly, while Mae slouched into the passenger's seat, head throbbing as she tried to keep her world from rocking and rolling all around her--was it even possible to feel seasick on dry land?

                "Do you... want to go back to my place?" Mae offered after a moment, fidgeting with the hem of her shirt as she kept one eye closed against the pain. It felt like someone had tried to drive a construction truck in one of her ears and out of the other. She really didn't want to be alone right now, especially when she could just barely hear that staticky, garbled song at the very edge of her hearing. She wanted Bea. She needed her there.

                "I mean... you don't have to. If you don't want to," Mae added when Bea didn't initially reply, chancing a look over at her girlfriend and raising a brow when she saw Bea grabbing a cigarette. For once, Mae had no intention of stopping her. In fact, if she wasn't so out of it, she might have even asked for one of her very own. Anything to keep the nervous shapes away.

                "No," Bea finally replied, taking a long drag of the cigarette and letting the smoke slowly roll out of her mouth like morning fog. "No, going to your place sounds good. Anywhere but here," she muttered as she turned the key and listened to the car rumble to life.

                Thank God, Mae thought as she slumped further into her seat, her eyes closing once more. She half-dozed throughout the long ride home, though every bump and brake sent a fresh wave of throbbing anguish through her skull. Bea would be there with her, though. That was all that really mattered.

                Beatrice gave a half-assed excuse to the worried Borowskis after she pulled up to the house and walked in with Mae leaning very heavily on her for support. She was too tired to come up with anything properly convincing, instead relying on bland platitudes and vague half-responses to their increasingly concerned line of questioning. Yes, we went out hiking in the woods... We went up the mountain a bit, so the altitude probably got to her... I know, she looks like death walking... Yes, I remember what happened last autumn... I know... Yes, I'll stay here with her... No, it's no problem at all...

                That last bit was probably the worst lie of them all: she knew damn well that she was supposed to go in to the Pickaxe today, work a few hours to reassure her father that she was still among the living and mentally capable of functioning in society. He was starting to get annoyed with her excuses and odd hours, she knew--and was definitely not a fan of her frequent "sleepovers," when she didn't come home at all until sometime the next morning. Still, he hadn't done much other than grumble, yet, since she technically was still working and doing chores around the apartment so that he didn't have to, and her smiles had grown noticeably less brittle over the past week or so, even if she still had to force them about ninety percent of the time. She knew that there would be hell to pay for skipping out on work without notice, and even worse for being out all of yesterday and probably all day today, but... She couldn't leave Mae like this.

                She frowned as she helped her girlfriend up the stairs and into the semi-comfort offered by her messy futon, her fingers gently trailing over Mae's clammy forehead. Almost immediately after she got settled, Mae was out cold once again, her soft snoring the only thing that clued Beatrice in to the fact that she was still alive and mostly well. How could she even think to leave her like this? Especially after last time...

                She would never forget the image of Mae Borowski showing up to Gregg and Angus' apartment, half-dead and barely cognizant. She had sought them out, above everyone and everything else. If Bea left now, she had no doubts that Mae would show up at the Pickaxe or the apartment she shared with her father--and she couldn't quite decide which of them would be worse. So, with a sigh, Beatrice crawled into the futon beside Mae, shifting to draw her girlfriend close to her--and she couldn't help but smile as Mae immediately snuggled into her warmth.

                "Bea?" Mae muttered, cracking open an eye to look at her.

                "I'm here," she replied, pressing a kiss to Mae's forehead. "You can go to sleep, it's okay. I've got you. We'll figure this out together."

                Mae stared at her a moment longer, and Bea could have sworn that she heard a faint, garbled noise--like radio static, softer than the screeching discord she heard out hiking--that echoed in her skull like an angry swarm of bees. She drew in a deep breath as she tried to keep her trembling from betraying her, not wanting to freak Mae out any worse than she already was. But Mae's fingers dug into her shirt as she curled closer, and Bea let out a long sigh as she held her. What else could she do but hold her? She knew some things about mental health, sure--and Mae was learning even more. But this? When both of them heard it, clear as day?

                She scoffed to herself. Maybe they were both just completely losing it.

                "I've got you," Bea repeated, trying to sound braver than she really felt. It worked: Mae's eye finally slid shut again, and her breathing grew slower, more even, as she sank deep into sleep once again. Bea watched her for a long while, idly stroking her hair as the late morning light filtered over them from the tiny attic window. Her thoughts ran in dizzying circles, like dogs chasing their own tails, before she found herself falling asleep, as well. She probably needed it, after the hell they had been through the last couple of days. Both of them did.

                They woke up later in the afternoon, sometime around three or so--Bea had only half-glanced at the clock as she sat up and stretched. She gently shook Mae awake, and the two of them shared another couple of kisses in the quiet stillness before deciding to head downstairs to see what they could scrounge up to eat. Both of them were starving; the late lunch they'd eaten before their hike was long gone, and neither of them had exactly been in the mood to eat anything after showing up like bedraggled rats on the Borowskis' doorstep. Neither of Mae's parents were home; her mother was no doubt at the church, and her father was at the Ham Panther deli, slinging meats. Bea counted it a small blessing. After all, neither of them had really said a word to one another after waking up, and she was fairly certain Mae didn't want to try to explain things to her parents any more than Bea herself did.

                Mae made a couple of sloppy sandwiches, and the two of them shared a large bag of chips they had dug out of the pantry. Bea checked the clock again. 3:30 in the afternoon. If she left now, she might still have time to work an hour or two of her shift... And maybe her dad would be a little more willing to hear her out if she did.

                "I may go in to the Ol' Pickaxe in a minute," she muttered around her sandwich, glancing over to Mae. "I was on the schedule for today, but... well. Shit happened."

                Mae only nodded, still bleary-eyed. A sudden twinge of guilt ran through Beatrice at the sight--she really didn't want to leave Mae alone like this--but smoothing things over with her father took priority if she wanted things to work out better in the long run. She sighed, finishing most of her sandwich before rubbing at her face.

                "...Are you going to be okay alone?"

                Mae shrugged.

                "I dunno. Probably," she said, voice breaking a bit as she cleared her throat. "Mom'll be home soon. Dad gets home late today, I think, but that's okay. I'm not going anywhere."

                "You sure?"

                Mae only shrugged again, stuffing the rest of her sandwich into her mouth. Beatrice frowned, then slowly stood as she smoothed out the wrinkles in her long, black shirt.

                "I'll come back when I can."

                "You don't gotta baby me, Beatrice," Mae grumbled, shooting a glare at her girlfriend. Beatrice raised her brows, holding out her hands in a gesture of peace.

                "I'm not. I'm just worried about you. You passed out and--"

                "I know. Geez. It's happened before, it's not that big a deal! I'm fine!"

                The words died on Bea's tongue, and she took a deep breath before letting it out in a long, slow sigh. Finally, she shrugged at Mae and turned to head toward the door.

                "Fine. Whatever. I'll either stop by or message you later."

                "Fine," Mae replied, sulking over her half-eaten bag of chips as the door closed behind Beatrice.

                Beatrice lit a cigarette as she walked toward the Pickaxe, promise be damned. The trembling in her hands slowly died away as she let smoke flow out of her nostrils, warming her in spite of the autumn chill in the air. She used to love autumn: the leaves changing color, the Harfest celebrations, the weather cooling off from the abysmal summer heat... But now? It seemed like autumn had some kind of curse hanging over it, ever since they had found that... that severed arm on the ground in front of the Clik-Clak. She shuddered at the memory, crinkling her nose as she took another deep drag from her cig.

                Thankfully, the Pickaxe wasn't too far from Mae's house; by four o'clock, she found herself standing just outside the door and looking in through the pane-glass windows. Her father was dealing with a customer, and looked frazzled. He'd always hated working register, and she had left him high and dry today. She grimaced, dropping what was left of her cigarette and stomping it out with her boot before heading in through the door and doing her best not to wince at the jingling of the bells above her head that announced her entry.

                Her father glanced up, the fake customer-service smile stretching his face, before his expression immediately soured upon seeing her. Without so much as a greeting, he continued his exchange with the man in front of him, who was trying to argue that a coupon from last year was somehow still valid because it was "still before October 8th." She rolled her eyes and slinked toward the back.

                "Hello."

                The sudden word startled her, and she jumped away from--Germ, who was setting a pack of nails back on the rack.

                "Germ? What--"

                "Sorting nails. Got a big delivery in yesterday. Still need arranging," he said, his unusual cadence unchanged. "You were supposed to work today."

                "Uh... yeah," Bea said, furrowing her brow as she rubbed the back of her neck. "Some... stuff came up."

                "Good stuff or bad stuff?"

                "...Stuff," she repeated, squinting at him as she rolled her shoulders back.

                "Stuff. I like stuff."

                "Uh-huh. Sure." She paused a moment, glancing at the pack of nails he still held. "...Do you need help with that?"

                "Nope."

                "Oh. Inventory been taken?"

                "Nope."

                "...Cool," she muttered, shaking her head slightly. "Guess that's what I'm doing for the next hour or two."

                "Yep."

                She gave him a flat look. How did Mae deal with this kid as much as she did? He was just so... weird. Finally, with a long-suffering sigh, she headed to the back room to find the inventory list.

                This sure was getting to be a familiar sight. Check the numbers. Check them again. Pull out bins, grow annoyed at the fact that grown-ass men couldn't figure out where to put the same shit they had had in stock for the past ten years (at least), nearly trip over half-assed lumber piles... Thankfully, it was easy work that kept her out of her father's sight, despite the tedium. Germ popped in every once in awhile to grab more handfuls of nails and bolts and other miscellaneous stuff to sort and hang, but, other than that, Beatrice was left alone with her thoughts.

                It'll be fine, she told herself. You've seen him mad before. Just 'yes sir' it up. Deal with him being a piss-baby about it. It'll blow over in a week or so. She tapped her pen to her lips, scowling when her numbers didn't quite match up. Did Germ grab from the wrong damn pile? Whatever. She'd balance it next time. You know how he is. He'll get over it. Just keep your mouth shut. She set the clipboard down, grimacing at the nervous tremor in her hands. It was almost five-thirty. Time to shut down for the day. Her heart was pounding.

                It's fine. It'll all be fine. Just... breathe. Static hissed in her ears, and she shook her head. No. No, not now. Pull it together. The walls seemed so close--like the room was trying to crush her. It's not, walls don't move. Shut up. It wasn't working. She quickly left the room, brushing right past her father on the way out, and lit up a cigarette as soon as she was outside. Even the nicotine was only barely helping; she coughed as she took a drag, and panic surged up inside her as she remembered Mae's tirade about her getting cancer. Maybe she already had it. Maybe she was about to die.

                Shit.

                "Beatrice?"

                Shit.

                "Beatrice. I am speaking to you," her father growled, standing in the doorway of the Pickaxe with a scowl on his face. "Answer me, girl."

                She took another deep drag on her cigarette despite the burning in her lungs, despite the pounding in her chest, and turned to face him with a mask of apathy.

                "Yes, sir?"

                "Why were you not at home last night? Or, better yet, why were you not at work today?"

                "I was at work," she drawled, doing everything in her power to keep from shaking. "I literally just walked out."

                Bad choice. His eyes narrowed, and he straightened himself up--though, even still, she was almost taller than he was.

                "You know what I mean, Beatrice. Don't you start back-sassing me, girl."

                "...Sorry," she replied, shrugging one shoulder as she dropped her gaze to the sidewalk.

                "'Sorry' isn't an explanation."

                "...Some things came up."

                "Things? What kind of things? Oh, no, let me guess: you were with that Borowski kid again," he grumbled, rolling his eyes. People walking by on the street were glancing at them, and Beatrice was beginning to feel sick to her stomach.

                "She's not a kid. We're both adults."

                "Oh, no, you're right--she's an adult, all right. Just a worthless bum who can't get a job. Look, I'm glad you have friends and all, Beatrice, but you don't need to be getting yourself caught up in the wrong crowd. That girl's always been trouble."

                Beatrice hesitated, drawing in a deep breath to try and steady her warring emotions.

                "She's not--"

                She couldn't even get the words out before her father continued his tirade, beer gut shoved out and broad hands on his hips as he spoke.

                "You're wasting your time trying to help her. She's nice enough, I guess, but--God." He shook his head sharply. "Wait--were you with her this whole time? All last night?"

                Beatrice rolled her eyes, taking another drag off her cigarette.

                "So what if I was? I can make my own decisions."

                "Not if you're living under my roof, you don't. Were you doing drugs, is that what this is all about? She always looks kinda high--"

                "Are you fucking kidding me?" Beatrice said, unable to help her disbelieving smile. "Seriously? You think I'm going and doing drugs with my--God, dad, are you that out of touch?"

                "Don't you dare talk like that--"

                "Oh, sorry. I forgot: you're allowed to accuse me of all kinds of horrible shit, but I'm not allowed to cuss in front of you. I'm so sorry, sir."

                His face was reddening, and people were now definitely stopping to stare at the conflict going on right in the middle of Towne Centre. Finally, her father jerked his thumb toward the inside of the Pickaxe.

                "Let's discuss this inside..."

                Fear rushed through her, only to immediately be quelled by anger. She took one last drag from her cigarette before flicking it away and brushing past her father into the Pickaxe, not saying a word even as the door slammed shut behind her. She turned to lean against the counter, beyond done with her father's bullshit accusations as he turned to glare at her.

                "You're spending too much time with that girl."

                "Yep. Sure am. And I really doubt that's going to change anytime soon," she drawled, lifting her chin slightly. "So you might as well drop it."

                "I won't. Don't make me forbid you from--"

                Beatrice laughed.

                "Forbid me? I'm twenty-one goddamn years old, you can't forbid me from doing anything," she scoffed, folding her arms over her chest. "I'm not a kid anymore."

                "You live under my roof, and you'll follow my rules--"

                "Oh, bullshit. We only have that shitty-ass apartment because I got up every single morning and came to work here in this hellhole so that we made enough money to pay rent and eat every week. Meanwhile, you wasted away in your goddamn recliner, drunk off your ass, and yelled at me about every goddamned thing that wasn't up to your exacting standards. I gave up everything for you," she argued, her voice breaking at the end of her furious rant. "Everything. I'm not giving up Mae."

                He grimaced, looking her over, no doubt considering his tactics. She had never gone off on him like this before, had always been too afraid--but enough was enough. The static in her head was growing louder, drowning out anything but her anger and the exhaustion of carrying the last surviving member of her family on her own shoulders for the past few years.

                "...You talk about her like she's somebody important," he finally said, tilting his head slightly.

                Her heart sank. Now, fear wrapped its icy cold fingers around her ribs, and the static roared--almost gleeful--as she stared at her father.

                "...She is, isn't she?" Confusion. Accusation. "What is Mae Borowski to you, Beatrice?"

                Oh, God. She couldn't do this. She couldn't breathe.

                "I..."

                "Answer me, girl," her father said, his face a perfectly blank mask as he took two steps toward her. "Who is she to you? Just a friend?"

                They stared at one another, dark eyes locking together. What did she say? What could she say? The glint in his eye was proof enough: he already knew. He had figured it out. She was done for.

                "...Or is she your..." he paused, and his blank face twisted, grimacing. "Your..."

                He couldn't even say it. The word caught in his throat, and Beatrice scoffed a little laugh--a soulless, broken sound--before saying it for him.

                "...Girlfriend," she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

                He closed his eyes, letting out a long, deep breath. For a brief moment, her heart leapt into her throat--there was hope. He wasn't saying anything, he was actually thinking about it--

                "Get out," he said, the words rolling like thunder on the horizon.

                Everything seemed to shatter around her.

                "Wh--...what?"

                "Get. Out," he repeated, turning his back to her as ice filled her veins.

                "No. Dad, I--"

                "OUT!" It was a deafening roar, and all she could hear was the rush of static that filled her ears.

                She turned, mechanically, and walked to the door. She would have to get her things. She would need her last paycheck; she had put in a number of hours over the past week or two, and she deserved to get paid for them. She--

                --she stopped at the threshold of the Pickaxe and turned, facing her father as tears streamed down her cheeks. Dust seemed to hang over everything she saw; it was an old, lifeless shop filled with equally lifeless tools. A black hole that sucked all of their money and time into it until they were left with nothing--and yet, cruel irony of ironies, it was the only thing that allowed them to have the money in the first place.

                "I hope this place fucking burns," she hissed through clenched teeth. Her father turned, glared, opened his mouth--and she slammed the door in his face before he could say another word.

                She walked toward the Borowskis' little house, hunching her shoulders to try and hide her face from the few concerned glances she received on the street. Her father was gone. She had lost the last surviving family member she had. As she walked, Beatrice began to laugh. She was free! She was--free! She was... alone. Laughter turned into heart-wracking sobs as she stood in front of the door to the house, unable to even will her hand up to reach for the doorknob.

                "Oh, God," she whimpered, hearing the rumble of thunder from the clouds overhead.

                The door opened for her; Mae stood there, annoyance written across her face.

                "I told you, Bea, I'm--oh." Her ears twitched, and Beatrice tried to force a wavering smile through her tears. "Beabea? What's... oh, God, come inside, jeez."

                She hiccuped a laugh, bringing a black-sleeved arm to wipe at her face as she let Mae guide her to the little couch in the living room.

                "Are you okay? What happened?"

                "My dad... told me... to get out," Beatrice explained, fighting for words. "So... I got out."

                "...Oh, God. Bea. I--this is all my fault, isn't it?"

                Beatrice shook her head, turning to pull Mae in for a warm, tight hug. Mae was all she had, now. The one person who had come after her, time and time again, even when she had made a complete ass of herself. Mae wrapped her arms around her in turn, and Beatrice finally just let herself cry in her girlfriend's arms.

                "That fucking goat-thing," Mae hissed, half under her breath as she leaned her head against Bea's. "I'm gonna kill him. He can mess with me all he wants, but he can't do this shit to my friends. He can't. I won't let him. I won't let him, Bea."

                Beatrice sniffled, unable to help but smile as she slowly pulled away to look at the fiery determination reflected in Mae's red eyes.

                "It's fine. I'm... I'm free now," she said, wiping her eyes with her sleeve. "We can... do whatever we want. Go find jobs wherever."

                Mae did not look convinced. Still, she didn't say anything to the contrary; instead, the two of them shifted to lay down on the couch together, the same as they had that night that Mae had half-crawled her way to Gregg and Angus' place across town. Their fingers twined together as their hands instinctively sought one another out, and they stared up at the ceiling, silence unbroken by anything other than the soft ticking of the kitchen clock and Bea's occasional snuffling as she tried to staunch the flow of her tears for good.

                Finally, Mae lifted her head enough to get a better look at Beatrice, and Bea met her gaze in silence as she cleared her throat.

                "Hey, Bea?"

                "Hmm?"

                "...I love you."

                Beatrice blinked. If she thought she was done crying before, she was very, very wrong.

                "I love you, too," she muttered, though she had to fight to get the words out. Mae squeezed her hand, and she squeezed back; she may have lost everything, was technically homeless now, but... she had Mae. She had Mae, and Mae loved her--and, God, she felt like she hadn't heard those three words in a hundred years.

                Despite it all, despite every minute of hell they had been through over the past year... Beatrice finally felt that everything really was going to be okay. They were going to burn the ruins of this old world to the ground together, and they'd rise out of the ashes of their combined failures stronger than they had ever been before.

                All they needed was each other. Everything else was just icing on the cake.

                The Borowskis came home later that evening, and Mae helped Beatrice to explain everything to them. Mr. Borowski grumbled under his breath as his wife burst into tears, both of them readily accepting Beatrice into their own little family for as long as she needed. It was an injustice. It was vile, to think that a man would turn on his daughter like that--but they did not dwell on it. Instead, they made pancakes for dinner, laughing together as Mae and her father put on a little show while flipping flapjacks across the tiny kitchen.

                They went to bed together, tangled up in one another's arms, and fell asleep to the sound of rain pattering on their window as thunder rumbled in the distance... only to wake and stare at one another, wide-eyed, when they felt the horrible quaking that seemed to shake the entire house.

                "Was that--?"

                "I don't know," Bea murmured, glancing toward the rain-covered window. "...Is the house okay?"

                "I think so?"

                They hesitated, listening breathless to the silence that was shattered moments later by the sharp wail of emergency sirens. It was too dark to see anything but the brilliant neon blues and reds of the trucks that roared by. They headed downstairs, where Mr. and Mrs. Borowski were already perched together on the couch, staring wide-eyed at the television set. As soon as Beatrice walked in the room, Mrs. Borowski let out a soft gasp.

                "Oh, Beatrice... sweetie..."

                Beatrice blinked, brow furrowing. She and Mae exchanged confused glances before moving a little closer in when Mr. Borowski gestured to them. After a moment, Beatrice realized what they were looking at: a gigantic sinkhole, right in the heart of Towne Centre. Emergency crews raced back and forth as the lone local reporter shouted questions over the pouring rain, but all Beatrice could hear was the rising flood of static in her ears.

                The Ol' Pickaxe was... gone.

Chapter Text

                Beatrice really couldn't have asked for better surrogate parents than the Borowskis; Candy went out of her way to make her feel at home every day, and Stan, Mae's father, was constantly lightening the mood whenever possible without being patronizing, which was a feat in and of itself. Between their attention and Mae's constant affection, it was difficult to dwell on the events of a few days prior--but dwell she did, in those quiet moments when she found herself alone in the middle of the night while Mae slept.

                It was on such a night that she wandered out to sit on the steps in front of the house, idly passing a cigarette between her fingers without lighting it. Every day, the news had said something about the massive sinkhole in the center of town. Every day, new quote-unquote experts gave their opinion on the geography, the topology, the meteorology, the historical monuments that had been destroyed--but none of them mentioned her father. They only mentioned the Ol' Pickaxe in passing, between blurbs about construction and detoured routes and the crushing blow the town's history had suffered now that that goddamned statue had tumbled into the gaping maw of the earth.

                She sighed as she rubbed her face, staring at the unlit cigarette between her fingers. Her father had told her to get out, and she had hoped that the Pickaxe burned. Well, looked like they had both gotten their wish. She scoffed to herself, shaking her head slightly as she took a shaky breath and looked up at the clouds covering the stars. It was cold out, but she hardly felt the chill in the autumn air as her mind ran in dizzying circles. This was all her fault. She didn't even know if he was still alive. How would he make money, now? Who was going to help him with his taxes? The man was hopeless with numbers. What would her mother think? The last thought twisted her heart, and she grit her teeth as she stood and flicked the whole cigarette away from her.

                "You don't understand," she hissed to the sky, glaring up at the stars that peeked out from between the clouds. She could have sworn she saw the vague outlines of constellations staring down at her, their luminous eyes able to see straight through her. God, but she wished her mother could look down on her like the shapes of the ancients could.

                "Bea?"

                Beatrice jumped, startled by the sleepy voice of her girlfriend sounding from behind her.

                "What?"

                "Beabea, it's like... three A.M. And thirty degrees. Literally freezing, Beatrice," Mae chided groggily, bringing a stubby hand up to rub at her eyes. "Why are you out here?"

                "...I was going to smoke," Beatrice admitted, shrugging a shoulder as she turned to face Mae.

                "Thought you were going to quit."

                "Yeah," Bea sighed, folding her arms over her chest. "...I didn't light it."

                "Oh. Okay." The two of them stared at one another for a long moment, Mae's eyes shining strangely in the starlight. "...It's really freakin' cold, Bea."

                "Mmm-hmm," Beatrice agreed, finally moving to step back inside with Mae. Rather than head back upstairs, however, she slouched toward the couch in the small den, letting her aching bones sink into the yielding fabric. Mae hesitated, face squinched up in confusion, before moving to join her. She curled up beside her, resting her head on Bea's shoulder and trying to stifle a yawn.

                "Whatcha thinkin' about?"

                "Ugh... the sinkhole," Bea muttered, slowly wrapping an arm around Mae to hold her close. "I can't... I can't help but feel it was kind of my fault. And if he's dead..."

                "You don't control the weather, Bea," Mae replied, brow furrowing. "Unless you've got some cool-ass weather powers you've been holding out on me."

                Beatrice rolled her eyes as she let her head lean against Mae's.

                "No, that's... that's not what I mean."

                "I know," Mae said, her ears pressing back a bit. "But seriously, Bea... guy was an asshole to you. It's not even worth worrying about. The sinkhole would've happened no matter what."

                The faint static on the edge of her hearing had her believe otherwise. There was something going on in Possum Springs, something dark and terrible--straight out of one of the terrible edgy novels she used to read in high school--and she had just gotten acquainted with it in the worst way.

                "We won't watch the news tomorrow, huh? Just take it easy. You can watch me suck at Demontower some more, like yesterday," Mae continued, and Bea couldn't help but snort a laugh.

                "You really are terrible at that. I think I could do better at this point, and I don't even play."

                "Hey! You don't have to agree with me like that, Bea! Jeez."

                Bea only chuckled, turning just enough to press a kiss against Mae's head. They sat there together in the darkness, the light of the stars only faintly filtering in through the kitchen window. Mae was fighting sleep--Bea could feel her restless jerking here and there as she saved herself from the brink of slumber--but Beatrice was still wide awake.

                "Damn it," she whispered after several minutes had passed, startling Mae awake once more.

                "Wha--? Whozzat? Bea?"

                "Ugh... Mae, I'm about to have a very stupid idea."

                "Oh... like turning a potato into an alarm clock?"

                "...What?"

                "Like--you know? We did it in chemistry one time. That class was the best. Always explodin' things or makin' vegetables actually useful..." Mae rambled, her voice trailing off as she started to fall asleep again.

                "What? No--Mae! Wake up a second."

                "Huh? I'm... I'm awake. I'm totally... awake. What."

                Mae blinked at her--one eye at a time, no less--and Beatrice sighed as she stared at her girlfriend for a few seconds.

                "...I have to go check on him, Mayday."

                Mae's bleary eyes squinted, taking a moment to actually focus on Beatrice together in the dark. She could have sworn she saw the gears turning in Mae's head as her sleep-fogged mind slowly pieced two and two together.

                "What?!"

                Oh, she was awake now.

                "Bea--no. He told you to--I mean, what if he--?"

                "I know. I know, okay? But he's... he's all I have left, even if he is a huge asshole," Bea argued, slumping further against the couch and bringing a hand up to rub at her face. Tears threatened to rise up and overwhelm the dam she had built against them, but she wasn't having it. Not tonight. "I just have to know if he's alive, at least, since none of these goddamn news channels care about anything but that goddamned statue."

                "Yeah... Poor ol' Uncle Anselm. At least no one else has to suffer second-hand name embarrassment anymore." She paused a moment as Beatrice gave her a flat stare, then sighed as she looked up at her girlfriend. "At least let me come with? 'Cuz if he tries to hit you or anything, I'll absolutely kick his ass. He will literally be yoghurt when I'm done with him. Fruit on the bottom yoghurt. Because his... blood and guts will be... on the... bottom. Yeah, I don't know where I was going with that."

                Beatrice couldn't help but smile.

                "You're such an idiot," she said, her tone dripping with affection.

                "Yeah, but I'm your idiot," Mae agreed, yawning as she slumped back against her girlfriend. "Just promise me you won't go alone, okay?"

                "...Okay. I guess you've got a point."

                The two of them settled in on the couch, and it was only a few minutes before Beatrice finally fell asleep. Tomorrow, she would have some answers. Tomorrow... tomorrow she would know whether or not she really was the last person in her family.

                "Are you really sure about this?" Mae shifted anxiously as she shoved her hands into her pockets. Going to see Bea's dad had been awkward at the best of times, and now... God, what if he wasn't even there? What if he was rotting at the bottom of that hole, just like all those old guys in the... A sudden wave of nausea overcame her, and Mae shut her eyes tight against the creeping vision of the man with the terrible hood reaching for her, his arm flying off in a graceful arc of blood when the elevator collapsed...

                "No," Beatrice admitted, her arms folded across her chest as she looked down the road toward the Pickaxe. "I'm really... not sure about anything, anymore. But I have to know."

                "Okay. Okay, well... let's do it, I guess," Mae said, hopping down off the steps and walking toward Towne Centre. Beatrice followed close at her heels; they weren't driving, today--not with that huge-ass sinkhole, anyway. Traffic was an absolute mess, especially now that half the heart of town was under construction and taped off. She didn't even know if they would be allowed anywhere near the Pickaxe, or if they would even be able to get through to Bea's old apartment.

                Naturally, Aunt Mall-Cop was hanging around the scene, clipboard in hand as she took notes about... something. Mae crinkled her nose. Where was that clipboard when they had found a severed freaking arm on the sidewalk outside the Clik-Clak? She shook her head; better to avoid her altogether, especially if she was in one of those 'interrogation'-type moods.

                Beatrice didn't even seem to notice as Mae shepherded her as far around the caution tape as possible, even as Mae herself wound up climbing over stoops and trash cans in order to make enough room for her girlfriend to walk freely on what was left of the sidewalk. In fact, Beatrice didn't even turn her head to look at the rubble of the sinkhole, instead focusing all of her attention on the sidewalk beneath her feet.

                When they finally reached the apartment building, Beatrice was refusing to look at literally anything. Mae frowned as she watched her girlfriend freeze up on the sidewalk in front of the steps, her entire body starting to tremble.

                "I can't," she finally breathed, the shaking growing more intense. "I can't do this. I can't..."

                "Hey," Mae replied, quickly moving up to grab hold of Bea's shoulders before leaning closer in order to get Beatrice to look at her. "Beabea. It's okay. I'm right here. We don't have to do this today, if you don't want. We can just go home and try again some other time. Or you can just call him?"

                Beatrice stared at her--stared through her--and didn't respond. Mae grimaced, giving Bea's shoulders a light shake.

                "Bea? Come on, Bea. Let's just go--"

                Finally, Bea shook her head, sucking in a deep breath.

                "No. No, I have to go in there."

                "Bea... You really don't--"

                "I have to, Mae."

                Mae squinched up her nose, then slowly let her hands drop back to her sides.

                "...Okay. Here, I'll go get the door, at least."

                That said, Mae hopped up the stairs and pulled the heavy door open for her girlfriend. She still thought all of this was a terrible idea--one of the worst they'd ever had, in fact, and that was coming from the girl who had dropped out of college and also broke into the high school to ride a zamboni through the halls. Beatrice slowly forced her way through, then headed over to begin picking her way up the stairs. Mae followed behind her, every fiber of her being on red alert. What if he was angry? What if he was dead? Mae wasn't sure which of the two would be worse, especially for Beatrice.

                Finally, they reached the closed door of the apartment Beatrice had, until recently, shared with her father. She had never even had a chance to pick up her belongings; she had been surviving on a single set of clothes with charity additions courtesy of Mrs. Borowski and her work with the church. She had a right to be there, a right to demand answers--but her fist shook as she raised it to knock.

                No response.

                Mae grimaced, her heart doing flip-flops in her chest as she began to fidget uncomfortably. Bea hesitated, then knocked again--only to receive no response once more.

                "...Beatrice, let's...let's just go, okay?"

                Beatrice did not move. She stared at the closed door, at her fist resting upon it, and her entire body began to shake again.

                "It's all my fault," she finally said.

                "What? Bea, no--it's... maybe we just caught him when he was out?"

                "It's all my fault," Beatrice repeated, slumping heavily against the door.

                "Beabea... it's... Even if you hadn't, y'know... he probably would've... it was a sinkhole, I mean..."

                "God damn it," Beatrice snarled, slamming her fist against the door. "God damn it!"

                Mae winced, her ears pressing back as she glanced nervously down the hallway. Other people were going to start coming out of the woodwork any minute now, accusing them of being burglars or something, and Mae was absolutely not about spending another night in jail--even with her girlfriend.

                "Bea! Stop--"

                Bea turned to look at her, face twisted in a vicious snarl--only to suddenly lose her balance when the door she was leaning on was yanked open from the inside.

                "What in God's name is all this goddamned racket?" Mr. Santello's booming voice resounded all around them, and Beatrice stumbled a moment before recoiling backward in shock.

                Mr. Santello blinked twice, eyes flicking from Beatrice to Mae and back again. At first, Mae could have sworn she saw something like relief on the old man's face--but then his expression fell into a heavy scowl, and he folded his large arms across his larger beer belly. He said nothing. He only glared at Mae, pouring every ounce of hate he had in his body into the look. If looks could kill, she would have probably been dead twelve times over, mostly with nuclear warheads and high-powered lasers.

                "Uh... Hi, Mr. Santello," Mae finally said after the silence grew too uncomfortable to bear. "We, uh... wanted to make sure you were okay, with the, uh... sinkhole and... yeah. That."

                Beatrice was still staring at her father in abject shock. The old man finally snorted and rolled his shoulders back, pulling his gaze away from Mae to look back at his daughter.

                "That so?"

                "Y--Yeah. Yes, sir," Beatrice corrected herself out of habit.

                He worked his jaw, and Mae was worried for a moment that he was going to explode. She could see the veins twitching in his neck as he swallowed words he no doubt wanted very desperately to unleash.

                "...You want somethin' to drink?"

                Both Mae and Beatrice blinked at him.

                "What?" Mae said, brow furrowing. "A drink?"

                "Yeah, a drink," Mr. Santello repeated, glaring at Mae once more. "What, being gay make you deaf, too?"

                Now it was Beatrice's turn to glare full force at her father.

                "Excuse me?"

                He opened his mouth again, eyes flashing--but then he seemed to think better of it. His mouth closed, and he paused for a long, pregnant moment before letting out a sharp sigh.

                "Just come in and have a damned drink, will you?"

                Mae and Bea traded glances. Eventually, Mae gave her girlfriend a helpless shrug. What the hell were they supposed to do in a situation like this? Beatrice took a deep breath, then slowly shifted to follow her father into the apartment. Mae trailed behind, hopping up to sit awkwardly on one of the barstools while Mr. Santello moved to grab three sodas out of the fridge.

                He stood across from the two of them as they sat next to each other at the bar, and none of them said anything. Mae found her mind racing all over the place, and she struggled to keep her mouth from running off the list of her anxious thoughts while Beatrice and Mr. Santello stared at their unopened drinks.

                "So... sinkhole," Mae finally blurted, unable to help herself. "It's big. Real big... uh, sinkhole. It ate my Uncle Anselm. Well, not... like, my actual great-great-uncle or whatever. He died in some, uh... war. But it ate his statue? Thing?"

                Now both Beatrice and Mr. Santello were staring at her, identical looks of mildly annoyed confusion written across their faces. Mae winced, forcing a broad, awkward smile.

                "Yeah! Just... ate it right up! Ha ha!"

                "...Right," Mr. Santello finally drawled, his soda hissing before finally snapping open with a sharp pop. He took a long drink, and another terribly long silence followed.

                Oh, God, this is the worst. I must be in hell. This is what hell is like. This is where bad people go to sit and stew for eternity. Awkward situations with significant others' family members, Mae thought, still smiling her terribly strained smile as she took a quick swig of her (kinda flat, actually) soda.

                "...I thought you were dead," Beatrice muttered, hands wrapped around her drink.

                Mr. Santello snorted in response, setting his can down a little harder than necessary as he gave his daughter a hard stare.

                "Take more'n that to get rid of me," he grumbled. "Besides, you're the one said you wanted it to burn, didn't you?"

                Beatrice closed her eyes, straining to keep her cool.

                "...I didn't mean it."

                "Uh-huh. Sure," Mr. Santello scoffed, chugging the rest of his soda before crumpling the can in his fist.

                "You're the one that told me to get out," Beatrice finally snapped, standing up from the barstool so suddenly that it toppled over behind her. "I told you something actually important, for once, and you told me to get out. So I got the hell out. And it's about damned time I did. I don't know why I even came back here--"

                "Beatrice. Knock it off," the old man said, tossing the can away and folding his arms over his chest like a petulant child.

                "Why should I?"

                "Because I'm tryin' to goddamn apologize, girl!"

                Once more, Mae and Beatrice both stared at Mr. Santello in abject confusion.

                "Look, I..." He let out a sharp breath before scrubbing over his face with one hand. "I'm really bad at all this. Your mother was the one who--... I didn't mean what I said, Beatrice. I just... that sort of thing, I don't... it's... it's new to me, all right? And I don't... I don't get it. So I lost my temper. And I shouldn't've. You, uh... you've been goin' through a lot--hell, more than I have, some ways--and... I should've... been more... Ugh."

                He stopped a moment, grimacing as he turned to grab another soda out of the fridge.

                "Beatrice," he finally attempted again, facing his daughter as he cracked open the can, "it's gonna take me a... a while to get... used to... Damn it. I love you, Beatrice. Even if you're..." He paused again, looking at Mae and actually wincing.

                Ouch, Mae thought, sliding her gaze away and idly fiddling with the hem of her shirt.

                "Even if you and the Borowski girl are... y'know. Together. Whatever."

                Beatrice stared at her father. This was the closest he had ever come--especially in the years since her mother had died--to actually having a conversation with her, much less actually apologizing for something, or admitting he was in the wrong.

                "So, I, uh... I'm sorry, Beatrice. Losin' the Pickaxe... it, uh..." He cleared his throat, shaking his head slightly as he took a swig of his drink. "...It made me realize I didn't want to lose you, too."

                "...What are you going to do? About the Pickaxe, I mean," Beatrice slowly responded, as if none of the previous conversation had ever taken place.

                "Ah, I don't know. Can't exactly rebuild, can I? Had some insurance on it, though, so I'm following up on that. Uh... can't remember where the paperwork and all is, but..."

                "I put it in the file cabinet. Third drawer. I think I labeled it, but I don't remember."

                "Oh? I'll have a look in a minute, then. If we can get that goin', that'll hold me over awhile until I can figure out what to do next. Wish I could recover some of my inventory, or at least some of those old tools we had on display. Some of those go back to the early mining days."

                Beatrice nodded, her face falling as she seemed to weigh options. Mae was just thoroughly confused at this point. Here they were, having a casual conversation about business and insurance and sinkholes when not ten minutes ago they had both been close to completely falling apart. The Santellos, she decided, were complicated. When Mr. Santello turned his gaze back toward her, however, Mae did her best to smile and look pleasant. Pleasantly normal. One-hundred percent. Not a trashfire of a person, no sir! Not Mae Borowski!

                "You hurt her," he growled, his dark eyes flashing, "and I swear to God I will have you in concrete shoes at the bottom of the river."

                Mae grinned, all teeth, and laughed nervously.

                "Ha! Ha ha! Yeah, o... okay! Good to know, Mr. Santello!"

                "Dad," Beatrice scoffed, rolling her eyes.

                "Hmph. You got a job, girl?"

                "Oh, uh... no! I do not. Have a job. Um... I was working on that, though! I've got... applications!"

                Mr. Santello glanced at Beatrice almost pleadingly. Beatrice only stared back at him.

                They stayed with Beatrice's father for nearly an hour more, with his blessing for Beatrice to come and go as she pleased--and one last, lingering glare for Mae. Together, they headed back home, and together they shared the good news with Mae's parents (Candy was equal measures thrilled to bits and absolutely infuriated with Mr. Santello's stubbornness). Together, they went to bed, and had a nice, peaceful evening watching nonsense shows on the internet. But that night, it was Mae who could not sleep.

                Bea's dad hated her. That was readily apparent to anyone with sensory organs. She was pretty sure even a box jellyfish could recognize the absolute hatred on that man's face, and box jellyfish had only the most rudimentary of sight organs possible (she had read that somewhere when she had gotten distracted looking for self-help on mental health issues, and had gone down a very deep rabbit hole about fascinating and bizarre animals from across the world). But, even if he hated her, he was at least tolerating the fact that she was with Beatrice. And, even better, he was actually alive!

                But she had to find some way to show him she wasn't all jail records and history of violent assault. Something niggled at the back of her mind... Some of those tools were from the early mining days, he said...

                After only a few moments' thought, she slunk out of the futon, doing her best not to disturb Beatrice in the process, and pulled her boots on. It was time for a little midnight sinkhole-diving.

                The caution tape did absolutely nothing to stop enterprising hooligans from crossing it, Mae realized as she ducked under the bright yellow barrier that surrounded the hole. The hole itself yawned toward the sky, jagged concrete pointing like teeth in the starlight, and Mae watched as the world began to fragment itself into strange shapes once again. This wasn't the Possum Springs she knew. This was a brave new world of terrors she had never thought she would experience 'back home,' especially after escaping from the terrible pointing statue at the college. Still, she would not be deterred, even as she heard that strange song emanating from its depths.

                She slid down the steep, unstable side--as if she had done it a thousand times before, in a dream--and grinned fiercely as she dug through the rubble. A screw pushed its way up into her knee, and she hissed at the pain before flinging it away. There had to be something here, something that would prove to Bea's father that she was worth something. She flung aside triangles and rhombuses of broken concrete and strangely packaged materials, sifting deeper and deeper through stone and mud and mess.

                Something sharp and rusty grazed her hand, and Mae glowered down at it in the dark as the song swelled in her head. A long, curved something, shaped vaguely like a banana out of hell. An old... pickaxe. She paused a moment, then began to laugh--wild, high laughter that echoed all around her, as if the sinkhole itself were laughing with her. She had found an old pickaxe in the rubble of the Ol' Pickaxe! Or, well, she'd found the head of one, anyway. The handle was broken off at an odd angle, trapped under a piece of concrete too heavy for her to move. She cradled the precious find between her hands, turning it over and over as her mind played tricks with its shape.

                Suddenly, a light blasted over her, and Mae found herself hissing like some kind of B-movie vampire as she recoiled away from the dazzling brilliance.

                "Mae! Get the hell out of that hole!" Aunt Mall-Cop's voice.

                "I found a pickaxe!"

                "What?"

                Mae only laughed, half-crazed. Her head felt light and dizzy, as if it were going to float away from her like some kind of bizarre hot air balloon. She still wasn't sure if there was a god, but she was more than sure that this was some kind of a sign. Everything was going to be okay. She just... had to get out of the hole, first.

                "I'm stuck!" She called, leaning up against one of the steep walls of the sinkhole and grinning up at Aunt Molly like an idiot.

                "...God damn it, Mae. I'll get a rope. You stay put."

                Mae stayed put. By dawn, Molly had helped her to scramble out of the hole and given her the tongue-lashing of a lifetime, with stern warning not to go near the sinkhole again. As Mae rushed back home with the (surprisingly heavy) pickaxe cradled under her arm, however, she found that she didn't care for her scraped knees and badly bruised hands, nor all of the dirt and mud and grime she had gotten all over her in the mad scramble for relics of the Pickaxe. No; all she cared about was sharing her find with Beatrice.

                Bea's father was alive. He accepted them--kind of. The Pickaxe was destroyed, but the pickaxe remained. Everything was going to be okay! Just before she reached her house, however, she saw a startlingly familiar figure in overalls walking down toward Towne Centre. He was an enormous, lanky figure compared to most people she had seen, and his long, grey goatee hung down as unkempt as ever from his chin.

                "Hey! It's you!"

                "It's me," the Janitor replied in that same slow drawl, not pausing in his relentless walk toward the hole.

                "You gonna go clean up that hole?"

                "Might be. You gonna go clean up that outfit?"

                Mae crinkled her nose as she looked herself over. She really was a mess. The deep, thrumming song in her head had stopped, and she sucked in a deep breath as she turned to look back up at him again--but he was gone. She crinkled her nose, then shook her head.

                Whatever, she thought, quickly heading for the door just as the sun began to rise over the horizon. Everything is going to be okay, now. I have proof.

Chapter Text

"The old miners were pretty cool, huh?” Mae chattered, kicking her legs as they dangled from the tall stool where she sat at the bar across from a bemused-looking Mr. Santello. Bea’s father was idly inspecting the head of the old pickaxe Mae had recovered from the wreckage as she talked, his eyes only occasionally flicking toward her.

“Hmm,” he grunted, turning the pickaxe over in his hands.

“Yep. Did a lot of digging! And apparently that was a big deal in old Possum Springs?”

“Was a mining town, after all,” Mr. Santello said, giving Mae a flat look.

“Right!”

There was a long pause, then. Mae leaned back a bit to look over her shoulder at Beatrice as she sat at the table in the living room, documents sprawled out all around her as she held the cumbersome landline phone pressed against her ear with one shoulder. She had been on hold for a long time, now.

“Oh! Did you hear that story, uh… the one about the teeth?” Mae asked, snapping her attention back to Mr. Santello. For once, he looked up at her properly, raising one brow in a curiously Beatrice-like expression.

“…Teeth?”

“Yeah—the mining story, about the teeth? The miners, uh… I guess they had a revolution or something, because their jerk boss knocked out some old man’s last tooth, and so they killed the boss and ripped out all his teeth and made some cool secret society or something and every one of ‘em got a tooth to prove it.”

Mr. Santello stared at her, the raised eyebrow slowly creeping higher.

“It’s true! I saw it on the micro-fish.”

“ Fiche ,” Beatrice called with the instant correction, despite her head being burrowed into her hands now.

“Oh, right. Micro- feesh . In the library.”

“Huh. No, I guess I hadn’t ever heard that one,” Mr. Santello said, shrugging one shoulder as he set the pickaxe head back down onto the table. “Probably made up for shock value. Lot of bigwigs hated the ones doing the actual mining.”

“No way! I found one of the teeth! My grandpa had it,” Mae replied, her eyes gleaming as she grinned broadly at Mr. Santello. “It was locked up in a safe in the crawlspace.”

“…Your grandpa stuck a tooth in a safe?”

“Well, yeah . It was an important tooth, Mr. Santello! Were you not listening?”

Mr. Santello groaned and stood up sharply from the bar, shaking his head again as he walked over to Beatrice.

“Anything yet?”

Beatrice briefly pulled the phone away from her ear before looking back at the seconds ticking up on the display. Thirty minutes and counting.

“Nope. If I hear the muzak version of that stupid song one more time …”

“Oh! Which one?” Mae asked, hopping off her stool to go and lean on the couch behind her girlfriend.

Beatrice only stared at her briefly before pressing the ‘speaker’ button on the phone. Kitschy elevator-music tones filled the room, and Mae recognized the song immediately before letting out a long, low groan.

“Oh, God! Not that one!”

“Mm-hmm,” Beatrice grunted, turning the speaker off again before shoving the phone back up against her ear with her shoulder.

“Well… what did they say before they put you on hold?” Mr. Santello asked, lowering himself into his favorite easy chair and cracking open the semi-cold soda that Beatrice had gotten for him before beginning the ill-fated phone call.

“Something about needing to talk to a supervisor or something… I think they were trying to argue that sinkholes weren’t specifically covered by your plan. I told them flood insurance and sinkhole insurance should go hand-in-hand in this part of the state, and he put me on hold,” Beatrice replied, her voice growing wearier by the second as she brought a hand up to rub at her temples.

“Well, they’d damn well better pay out! Otherwise, why the hell’d I pay for the goddamned insurance every month?”

Beatrice only sighed, letting her eyes slide shut as she listened to the song slowly taper to an end. Your call is important to us. Please hold, and you will be connected with a representative as soon as possible. Twenty-two. She drew another tally mark onto the scrap sheet of paper to her right, pressing the pen a little more firmly into the mark than she really needed to. Another crappy muzak version of an already crappy song filtered at ungodly volumes through the receiver, and Beatrice sucked in a deep breath to steady herself.

Mr. Santello had turned on the television, and Bea glanced up briefly to see the familiar Smelters uniform colors on players that lined one side of an impossibly green stretch of astro-turf. She groaned inwardly; bad enough she had to be on hold for his insurance company, but now she was going to have to get stuck watching football again, too. And, of course, the old man couldn’t be bothered to turn down the volume while she waited.

Your call is important to us. Please hold—A fifty-yard pass down the line, and Johnson snags it! He’s really racing now, passing right by the defenders—as soon as possible—TOUCHDOWN! Johnson scores for the Smelters! More muzak. An impossibly irritating dance in the endzone, where a full-grown man strutted around like an overstuffed turkey for running a ball from one end of a big patch of grass to the other. Your call is imp—

“Oh, fuck this,” Beatrice growled, pulling the phone away from her ear and hanging it up before tossing it irritably onto the table.

“What—why’d you hang up for? Damn it, girl, now we’re going to have to call ‘em again!”

“We? Who is the we , here? I’m the one sitting on the goddamned line with my brain dribbling out of my earholes,” Beatrice shouted back, raking a hand hard over the top of her head. Mae cringed back from the couch, her ears pressing back.

“Well, it won’t do any good to have it on speaker—only one of us can talk at a time, and you know I’m no good at keeping up with all that stuff,” Mr. Santello protested, gesturing to the piles of paper on the table.

“Because you’ve never even tried! Mom took care of it, and then she died , so now I have to do it!”

“That’s—now, that’s not fair, Beatrice—”

“Nope, it’s sure not. What was that you used to tell me all the time? Life’s not fair, so get used to it? I think maybe you should take your own advice, for once in your life,” Beatrice said, her voice dripping with venom as she glared at her father. He only stared back at her, mouth slightly agape. For once, he looked… feeble. She noticed the grey tinging his temples, the wrinkles under his eyes and at the corners of his mouth. Guilt creeped up her spine, but her anger barked it right back down.

“…I’m going for a walk,” she muttered, shoving her hands into her pockets and turning sharply on her heel to head downstairs. Mae started to follow her, and Beatrice only shot her a ferocious glare before continuing on her way. No footsteps pursued her. Good , she thought, digging in her pocket to pull out a cigarette and her lighter.

Things were supposed to be getting better . She was with Mae, and her father had more-or-less reconciled himself with the two of them… even if he hadn’t fully warmed up to Mae, he was at least permitting her in his house and indulging her in her endless stream of babble. The Pickaxe was gone; Beatrice hadn’t worked in that god-awful place for almost a month, now. And yet… nothing had changed. Here she was, wasting her free time that she could have been spending on literally anything else, trying to get her father’s insurance company to pay out for the total loss of the shop. Here she was, working her ass off while he sat on his, watching another mindless game on the television. Here she was, with a girlfriend with whom she rarely got to spend time, with worse anxiety than when her mother had abandoned them in death, with no prospects, no job, no life—

She took a deep, long drag of her cigarette and scowled. Here she was, smoking again after she had promised to quit. All her old patterns echoed themselves around her, and she suddenly recognized them all for what they really were: nets, cages, trapping her in the same old routines she had been in since high school. There was no freedom—not for her. And just look at how all the patterns had ended: death, destruction, depression. Her relationship with Mae was doomed to fail. The Pickaxe was gone, and her father was doomed to poverty because of it. She had missed her chance to go to college, and now she was doomed to live in Possum Springs, a nobody and a nothing, working a minimum-wage job somewhere just to survive.

Her hands trembled as she took another drag from her cigarette. What had happened to the bright, vibrant girl who got straight A’s on every assignment—even in the honors classes? What had happened to the Beatrice who did volunteer work, who went to church and honestly believed what they were telling her, who had seen hope spreading out before her like the grand delta of some eternally-branching river?

She’s as dead as her mother is , she answered herself, stubbing out the end of her cigarette beneath her heavy boot as she continued walking.

At first, she hadn’t noticed the static building in her head behind the dizzying thoughts. But now—now that everything had run its course, had come to its ultimate conclusion—she could hear, somewhere in the deepest recesses of her mind, that horrible static that invariably gave way to the deep, rolling song she had heard only once or twice before. Chills ran up and down her spine as she hunched her shoulders, her stride lengthening as she continued her unconscious walk toward the cemetery.

All the brilliant hopes she had seen as a kid in school seemed to be extinguishing themselves before her very eyes. The dream of going to college— poof , winked out like the light of a candle in the murky gloom. The dream of getting married to a nice boy from out of state, moving away from Possum Springs, starting a family— poof . Another light gone. The dream of making a difference in the world— poof —the dream of making a lot of money— poof —the dream of— poof, poof, poof .

She looked up at the black gates of the cemetery as they loomed high above her. Generations upon generations of people who had moved to Possum Springs, seeking dreams of their own, and gotten stuck in the muck and the mire of this town which no one could escape once it had gotten its grimy hands on them. Young or old, male or female, brilliant scholar or working-class moron—they were all here, now, sharing the same dirt between them that had once nourished their dreams. Quite literally, the men and women of Possum Springs were buried in their dreams, and they slept peacefully while those who crawled about on the surface of the earth scuttled fitfully through the waking nightmare that was reality.

The wrought iron gates were half-open, as if welcoming her. Beatrice hesitated, running her fingers over one of the long, twisted bars that was ice-cold beneath her fingertips.

Everything ended in death. Whether you lived a good life or a life filled with shit, you died in the end, anyway. You were burned or you were buried, some people said some words over your unhearing corpse, and then they all went away to pretend, for a little while longer, that they weren’t going to be joining you soon enough. God had promised eternal life in the church, had promised an end to death—but that was a lie. Everything broke down in the end.

Even God was dead, Beatrice thought, her brow furrowing as she wandered in through the cemetery gates. If God was alive, then that meant God had to die, eventually. All living things died. God, she mused, had probably died long ago. Where were they buried? Up on the hill, where the rich people went? Down in the ditches with the miners, always at risk of the earth swallowing up what was left of them as the ground eroded away with each new flood?

God was dead, and they had died in Possum Springs.

She had made her way to her mother’s headstone, she realized dimly. Her fingertips brushed over the engraving for a moment, and she slowly sat down on top of the little plot. Everything ached; she felt a hundred years older than she had when she had first left the apartment.

“What’s it like?” She asked, her voice low and thin. “Is it like falling asleep? Sinking into a warm bath? That’s what I’ve heard, but I don’t know if it’s true. Those people came back, so how can they say that they really died?”

There was no response, save for the cold chill of the wind that gently rustled the grass around her. Beatrice let her eyes close as she leaned against the headstone, her fingers idly playing with the soft fabric of her favorite shirt-dress.

“…It can’t be that bad, can it? Just a few minutes of pain, maybe. Better than a lifetime of it. If you were here, maybe—…” The words died and rotted in her mouth as soon as her brain conceived them. If her mother were here, the three of them would just be suffering together. No; better her mother was there, wherever she was, getting the rest she deserved from a life too full of pain.

The low rumble in her mind swelled in a glorious crescendo, and Bea sucked in a trembling breath. God was dead; her mother was dead; Beatrice herself was dead, had been dead for years. She was a walking corpse living in a dying city filled with other walking corpses going through the daily motions of a life that no longer meant anything to any of them.

She lit another cigarette as the song seemed to rise and fall in cascades of sound almost like speech, half-thoughts that she could only vaguely understand. Sacrifice had been made to ensure eternal life—that’s what the Cultists had told them, in their rambling at the bottom of the mine. But what was eternal life, when one really stopped to think about it? She had made sacrifices, as well. She and her friends had fed the beast one of its richest, finest meals, and her final gift had been the Pickaxe itself, swallowed whole by a monster that hungered endlessly. The only problem was that Beatrice didn’t want eternal life. She didn’t even want the remnants of the life she was living now .

Black cancer grew in her lungs, tendrils of sickness coiling around the wisps of smoke she inhaled. Her body sagged, wrinkled like her father’s, while she ran on the treadmill—no matter how fast she ran, how hard she pushed herself, she just… wasn’t getting anywhere. Spinning her wheels while she was stuck deep in the mud.

The church had the drop-off, she suddenly recalled. Far up on the top of the hill, where the stones grew bare, riddled with graffiti left by daring explorers joking about pushing one another over the edge… She rose, slowly, from her spot on the grass and found herself moving mechanically back through the gates once more. It was not the hole at the center of everything, deep and dark at the bottom of a mine—but it was a hole, and she would be swallowed regardless.

Mae frowned when Mr. Santello picked up the phone for the third time that evening.

“She’s still not back?”

“No,” he grumbled, though Mae could feel the worry in his voice. “She doesn’t get home soon, we won’t be able to move forward on this insurance shit until Monday.”

Mae’s face twisted up like she had just sucked on a lemon.

“Yeah… well, okay. I’m gonna go looking for her, okay?”

“Whatever.” Mr. Santello’s voice sounded sharply, only to be followed by the low, dull drone of the disconnection.

Mae sighed and paced the floor restlessly. Where would Bea have gone? The cemetery was her first thought—she had found her there last time, after all—but there was something that nagged at her, something that just… didn’t feel right. She remembered, distantly, the way she had left her friends in the middle of the night to go to the mines by herself, intent on confronting the “ghost” that had been stalking the town. Thank God they had figured it out and managed to follow her, she thought, tapping her lips as her ear twitched. Bea would not go to the mines; it was sealed off, anyway, because Germ had blown it up. She wouldn’t go to the sinkhole, because it held too many memories and was too… in the way of everything.

Her mother and Pastor Kate flickered through her mind, as did a sudden flash of the past—of bake sales and her “improvements” to the hymnal that made Beatrice crack up laughing even as she tried desperately not to—and Mae instinctively began to follow her feet. Of course Beatrice would go and seek refuge by the church. As she meandered down the street, static began to fill her ears; hurry , it seemed to say. Hurry, hurry, hurry . It was less a solid thought and more a feeling, a pressure on her brain and heart and lungs that drove her to break out into a jog down the few blocks toward Towne Centre.

The white of the church building stood out in painful contrast to the blaze of color that the setting sun had ignited in the sky, even as Mae was making her swift way up the inexcusable number of stairs up the hill. Saint Rubello stared at her as she drew closer, and Mae couldn’t help but think of Bruce, the sound of train wheels clattering over the rails… She wondered if he had ever made it out, ever made it home. Even his little lean-to was still there, sagging against the trees like some relic of a person that didn’t exist anymore. The last fragment of Bruce in a world that had forgotten him.

And then—just past the broken-down lean-to—

“Beatrice!”

Bea was standing at the edge of the cliff, cigarette dangling from her lips as she stared out at the landscape that stretched out on all sides of her. She did not move, even when Mae called her name again, and Mae felt horrible chills of fear grasping at her ribs.

“…Bea?”

“She’s dead,” Beatrice replied, her voice flat and far away.

Mae grimaced, and her heart thudded in time with the sudden swelling of static in her ears, in her skull…

“Bea, quit… quit kidding around,” Mae said, trying to laugh the whole thing off. Just one big joke! “Your dad’s worried, even if he’s… not saying it in so many words.”

Beatrice did not reply; instead, she took another long, deep drag off her cigarette and flicked the butt out into the void that yawned beneath them.

Mae crept closer, her ears pressed as far back as they could go, and then hesitated. Did she dare to touch her? Would she send her off the edge just by doing that much? It was impossible to say, impossible to know. It felt like there was as much distance between them as from the height of the cliff to the jagged outcroppings below.

“Why do we even try, Mayday?” Beatrice finally spoke again, sorrow creeping into her voice. “We’re never going to get out of here. It’s just like that stupid Harfest curse. The witch poisoned the spring years and years ago, and now we’re all just walking corpses pretending to be alive.”

“That’s… That’s not true,” Mae argued, though she had to close her eyes against the swelling of the static. Monstrous existence . “It’s just the fucking Black Goat, Bea. He’s in your head. I know what it’s like.”

Beatrice shook her head and let her eyes wander over the drop.

“It’s not just that. I’ve felt like this for a long time, since high school.”

“Shit, Beatrice… I nearly killed a kid because my brain can’t determine what’s real sometimes and makes everything look like shapes. I dropped out of college. I can’t go anywhere or do anything, and now even Possum Springs is starting to be all just shapes —I know. I know how much it sucks, okay?”

There was a long silence. Then, finally, Beatrice turned her head to look at Mae.

“How do you stand it?”

“Uh… stubbornness, I guess. I’m a fighter.”

Bea’s lips quirked up into a wry, flickering smile.

“Yeah… I guess you are.”

“And you are, too, damn it. You and Gregg and Angus—you’ve all dealt with such bullshit, and you keep on moving. If you had gone to college, you wouldn’t have been a giant wuss and dropped out because everything was too different and nothing made sense and the world was all just shapes and noise and nothing was real —“ She paused briefly, cutting herself off in her ramble as she swallowed more words that wanted to pour off of her tongue. “You can fight this, too. We can fight it together, just like you guys helped me fight in the mines. Even when you thought I was completely nuts.”

“Well… you are completely nuts,” Beatrice drawled, turning her gaze back to the drop-off.

“Hey! I’ve got my moments of brilliance,” Mae retorted, settling her hands on her hips as she moved to stand side-by-side with her girlfriend. “…Is it just your dad? He’s kind of an asshole, but…”

“No. It’s… it’s everything. I just feel so… hopeless, like nothing’s ever going to get better. Like everything I do is doomed to fail, all because of some… I don’t know. Some mistake I made when I was a kid? Maybe this is God punishing me for having sex with that guy at math camp.”

“I don’t think God cares that much about you banging some dude,” Mae said, crinkling her nose.

“Eh, I don’t know. Maybe they’re super jealous they can’t bang some dude.”

“…You might have a point. Who would God even bang?”

Beatrice couldn’t help herself: despite everything, her face broke out into a smile, and she found herself laughing as she wrapped an arm around Mae’s shoulders and leaned on her for support. Mae grinned, curling an arm around her waist in turn as she continued to press the joke.

“Maybe Saint Rubello? Maybe that’s why he could breathe fire! He was just that hot.”

Bea was laughing so hard now that she had to bring a hand up to wipe the tears from her eyes.

“Oh… Oh, God, could you… even imagine…?”

“’Oh, Saint Rubello, I find your fire-breathing quite… arousing ,’” Mae began, in her deep voice that she had used for the fish-god back at the Ft. Lucenne Mall. “’Please, you must smooch me at once. Hold me tight. Treat me so right, Saint Rubello.’”

“Mae, stop,” Beatrice spluttered out between fits of laughter, “w-we’re right by a church!”

“The only place sacred enough for the holy bang,” Mae said solemnly—which only made Beatrice laugh again, with renewed force—and, finally, joined in laughing with her girlfriend.

The two of them laughed like lunatics on the edge of the cliff, looking out on the world that had once seemed like a pall covering the endless dead. It felt more like a treasure-map now, she thought, designed by children playing pirates. Maybe there wasn’t any real treasure, save for some cat poop in the sandbox, but… well, sometimes you had to make do with the cat poop and pretend it was a pouch of doubloons. Not that she… ever had, or anything. Definitely not.

“God,” Beatrice finally sighed, leaning heavily on Mae as she brought a hand up to rub her face. “…I’m a mess, Mayday.”

“Eh, same. I mean, I did call myself a trash-mammal at that party. I meant it, too. We can be garbage together, it’s okay. One man’s trash, etc. etc.”

Beatrice grinned, though there was a weary edge to it, now.

“…He’s never going to leave us alone, is he? That… thing in the mines.”

Mae paused for a long moment, letting her mind wander around the question. She remembered floating in space, thinking she had drowned in a few inches of water. She remembered the song, remembered spilling her feelings to the uncaring cosmos and hearing some sort of strange, garbled reply that she could not understand. Maybe he was as lonely down there as they all were up here?

“…Probably not,” she finally admitted, glancing up at Beatrice. “But what can we do?”

“I think I might have an idea… but it’s a really stupid one.”

“I am the queen of stupid ideas, Beatrice. Lay it on me.”

Beatrice sucked in a deep breath, then turned to look down at Mae with her mouth set into a firm, hard line. Mae’s blind courage immediately wavered.

…Maybe she didn’t want to hear this one, after all.

It was about the time that they were helping one another to clamber over the fence that closed off the old mine that Mae began to consider that this idea was really and truly especially stupid. She felt the bile bubbling up in the back of her throat as she remembered the dying man flung down the elevator shaft, the sickening tilt of the world as the cave-in had happened… and she remembered Casey, down at the bottom of that hole somewhere, where no one would ever find him.

She had been brave, once—foolhardy, even—to come tramping up here to challenge things she couldn’t even begin to understand. But now that she knew about them, now that she had seen them and spoken to them in person…

“Bea, are you sure we should be here?”

“They usually build fences to keep people out , so no. We should not be in here,” Beatrice replied in her usual slow drawl—though her voice trembled a bit with uncertainty all the same.

Everything was… eerily silent. There was no static, no headache, no rumbling song; there was only the sound of the wind gently brushing through the grass as the sun fell behind the line of the horizon. The cave-in had definitely closed off their entrance to the place, and Mae had no doubt that whatever Germ had done had sealed the way in from the well. There was no going in, and there was no getting out. Whoever had been stuck in there… well, they were there . Forever.

How long did it take for a body to become old, dry bones? The thought made her queasy.

Beatrice paced up and down the caved-in mine, trying to find some crack, some crevice they could press through—but there was nothing. The rock was as solid as steel, and as impenetrable as an ancient fortress.

“Damn it,” she hissed, turning to look at Mae sharply. “Do you think we can move these rocks?”

“Uh… no,” Mae replied at length, pushing her ears back a bit. “I’m sorry to say I’ve been neglecting my beautiful gunshow, here. I can maybe move, like, one of those little ones down there.”

“That’s not going to get us inside!”

“Yeah, no,” Mae agreed. “Definitely not. We are very much out here.”

Beatrice cursed again, kicking at the stone wall with sudden fury.

“Bea… look, we shouldn’t be here. Let’s… let’s just forget this place, and—“

“He won’t let us forget! I want him out of my head! I want him out of my life!”

As if on cue, a low rumbling sounded in the air around them, and Mae felt suddenly dizzy as the world seemed to shift around her. He had been waiting—waiting for his moment to gloat at them, at his ultimate victory over the two of them together. His song swelled in hideous, mocking triumph, and Mae looked to see Beatrice clutching her head much in the same way she herself was.

Monstrous existence. There’s a hole at the center of everything… he doesn’t talk, he just sings… you are forgetting and being forgotten… I don’t know if there is a God… a moment ago... fried, honey… A cacophony of voices, seemingly random snippets of conversation. Finally, the garbled noise began to coalesce, to melt together into something that was recognizable despite still being a hodge-podge of speech and song. L e T  m E  o U T.

The wind was practically knocked from her lungs. Now the static in her mind was a screeching, horrible and desperate, clawing at the walls of her skull like it was some kind of bone cage keeping a wild animal trapped inside.

Monstrous existence—R E l E a s E  m E—a hole at the center of everything—S A v e  U S—forgetting and being forgotten—p L E a s E,  G O D,  H e L P—

Tears were streaming down her face, now, and she didn’t know where she was. There was no more grass, no more ground—only darkness, the eternal flow of space and time—Beatrice was beside her, and Mae could hear her sniffling as she struggled against the same invasion of the mind.

The mines will be humming again, a single voice whispered as the cacophony fell to a dull roar. The jobs will come back. The kids will come back. It almost sounded like it was… begging her, entreating her with the same temptation it had offered to the others. The swell of voices seemed to die away, one by one, and Mae was left floating alone in the void, only the sound of her own heartbeat and the ragged breaths she drew in hanging in her ears.

I’m so scared, her own voice spoke to her, trembling in the dark. I’m so scared, all the time… I want to hold on until I’m thrown off, and everything ends.. .

Silence. Mae opened her eyes to—nothing, to shadows hanging on shadows. Then the shadows coalesced into forms, shapes she knew in her dreams; jagged buildings at every angle against the dull light of an eclipsed moon. A sound, like a sigh, fell over her as her feet found semi-solid ground.

S o… T I R e D… h U N g r Y…

She shook her head, trying to get the garbled hundred-voices out of her skull. And then—music. Not a song, not the singing of the goat, but the twanging of a bass—the low, liquid thrum of a guitar. Mae frowned, moving toward the sound as she waded through the strange thickness of the dream world. She knew this song.

Dust on this tired old street… Mark corners where we used to play…

“…Casey?” Mae’s ear twitched, and she squinted into the acid-blue world to try and find him.

Dust trace our tired old feet… in circles as we pace our time away…

“Casey! Casey, where are you? I’m so sorry, I didn’t… I didn’t know—I would have come, I…”

The sound of an accordion joined the guitar. A tuba blasted out a bass line accompaniment while the saxophone wailed along with Casey’s voice, floating through the air. Finally, the strings picked up the refrain. Mae looked up and saw the familiar four columns she had seen so many times in her dreams, the bizarre bell-towers holding musicians she had never met. But this time… this time, it was different. There was a fifth. Casey lounged in the middle, fingers plucking the strings as he tilted his head toward Mae and smiled as he sang:

I just wanna die anywhere else… If only I could die anywhere else…

Mae blinked away tears that threatened to overwhelm her. She couldn’t get to him, there was no way to climb the sheer angles of the building, no sagging powerlines to bring her to his high tower.

“So come with me, let’s die anywhere else,” she half-sang, her voice breaking at odd angles like the world around her.

Anywhere… Just not here, oh no, they finished together. Casey smiled again, tilting his head up to look toward the moon as he continued to pluck out the tune to the accompaniment of the Deep Hollow Hollerers.

The world began to fade away to darkness again, and Mae scrabbled against the brick walls that only half-existed, digging her claws deep into the stone as she tried desperately to climb up.

“Casey!”

And if they ever hear my name, will they know I walked alone around these dusty streets—my tired old home? And will they ever stop to think what was here before—no, they won’t remember that I’m… gone.

“ Casey !”

Silence. There was nothing to hold onto, out here in the endless black. Everything was gone, everything was lost, everything was forgotten—nothing ever really existed, it was all shades of memory of people who didn’t know, didn’t care. The Black Goat had lied, had been lying ever since they found him. They were scared to die, offered him anything to try and keep their world alive…

…but he was scared, too.

Monstrous existence.

The words drifted back to her, and she sucked in a trembling breath. He was dying.

A sudden, wild desire surged inside her, demanding she throw herself into the abyss. She had to do something, she had to stop it from happening! Everything was falling apart, breaking down—if she could just—no one would miss her, not really, she just had to—

And then there was an arm around her waist, pulling hard. Her gleaming red eyes traced the outline that fragmented into a chaotic jumble of shapes.

“I’ve got you,” a voice, not her own, not one that had been hounding her. “It’s okay. We’re going to be okay.”

“I’m scared,” she admitted, though her voice sounded like two speaking at once—one deep, unknowable, while the other was high and thin.

“I know. God, I’m scared, too.”

“…Do you think it hurts?”

Her vision clarified itself, and she saw Beatrice dimly in the darkness, shaking her head. But Beatrice’s image was fractured—strangely double, though the double was older, slightly shorter, thinner…

“...It’s just like falling asleep,” she murmured, pulling Mae closer to her.

No one wanted to die alone. No one wanted to be forgotten. Something that had woven itself inside her suddenly felt like it was unravelling, finally letting go because it was finally being held, reassured.

“I’m so tired,” Mae’s voice—but not her voice—said, falling strangely flat in the infinite sea of darkness all around her.

“It’s okay,” Beatrice whispered. “It’s going to be all right.”

The moon glowed brightly overhead once more, and Mae turned her flashing red eyes up to look at it like Casey had done. Slowly, the shadow over it began to slide away; soon, the whole brilliance of the moon lit up an ocean of stars, each one twinkling like a distant memory. A deep sigh escaped her, sounding all the way from her toes, and she could have sworn that she saw a small army of people slowly marching through the sky toward the light of the moon. Bring ‘em in, bring ‘em in, they seemed to sing in silent chorus, moving arm-in-arm toward the unknown and the unknowable.

Only one was left. A small, trembling black figure, hunched under the shadow of the hollowed-out buildings that loomed overhead. Mae’s eyes focused sharply upon it, and she felt disgust and pity mingling inside her all at once.

“Go,” she commanded, this time fully in her own voice. “You can’t stay here anymore.”

A low, pitiful wail answered her, like the last warbling note of a swan’s dying song.

“I know it’s all going to end. I know I’m going to lose everything. But that’s okay. That’s… life. Things change, people come and go. Horrible shit happens because people just—just won’t let go of it all. You have to, now. You don’t have a choice.”

They regarded one another, goat and girl, across a distance that felt like an eternity.

“You don’t belong here. You never did. It’s over.”

Finally, the goat turned its trembling head toward the moon and turned to rush up toward its light, letting out a long, low bleat that echoed like the blast of trumpets. He was going home. Just like the reverse of the painting in the weird old museum, Mae thought, watching as his black form galloped past stars and finally disappeared in the radiance of the full moon.

Piece by piece, the dream world shattered into a riot of shapes and color. Everything broke apart, falling to shards all around her and leaving her in a strangely hollow-feeling reality. She was standing in front of the mine, under the light of the full moon, and Beatrice was embracing her tightly.

“…That was really weird,” Mae muttered, her voice distant.

“Tell me about it,” Beatrice said, unable to help a wry chuckle as she brought an arm up to wipe away tears. “…I saw my mom.”

“Yeah? I saw Casey.”

“How was he?”

Mae paused a moment, frowning. Then, her expression melted into a warm smile, and she turned her head to look up at her girlfriend.

“You know what? I think he was okay. How was your mom?”

“I think she was okay, too,” Beatrice replied at length, reaching down to take Mae’s hand in her own. “She looked… happy.”

“You kids ever hear of ‘keep out?’ It’s right here on the sign, you know,” a voice drawled nearby, making both of them nearly jump out of their skins.

Mae stared with wide eyes toward the fence, where she saw the familiar lanky figure of the janitor working away on the gate. She and Beatrice shared a look of mutual confusion before Mae finally pulled away to move closer to the strange man.

“Isn’t it, like, way too late for you to be working?”

“Overtime’s a hell of a thing,” the janitor said, shrugging one shoulder as he took a can of Fiascola from his utility belt and popped a hole in the bottom of it, just as he had done when she had first seen him in the bus station. “Isn’t it too late for you kids to be trespassing on private property?”

“Well, I mean… Why can’t we get in here, anyway?”

“Dangerous. Was a cave-in not long ago, I hear.”

“Oh. Right,” Mae muttered, glancing back at Bea. Beatrice only shrugged, looking bewildered. “Um… so can we get through that gate?”

“Soon as I’m done fixing it.”

“…When will you be done?”

The janitor fiddled with the chain link a bit, crumpled the empty can of Fiascola in his fist, and then turned to look at them as he swung the gate open.

“Now.”

“…Ha ha! Good one,” Mae said, giving him a wavering grin. “Let’s go, Beatrice!”

“Don’t have to tell me twice,” Bea muttered, hurrying to follow her girlfriend out the gate.

Mae did not stop until she could no longer feel the Janitor’s eyes on her back. She shuddered as soon as she got to the bottom of the hill, then flashed a lopsided smile at Beatrice.

“You think we did it?”

“God, I hope so. I think I’m way over my supernatural experience quota for this decade,” Beatrice grumbled, rubbing at her face. “If I never see a ghost or even a shitty B-Movie jumpscare again for the rest of my life, I think it would still be one too many.”

Mae snorted a laugh.

“Aw, come on! No more Zombicles ?”

“Oh my God, no. Watching that movie dropped my IQ by ten points, at least.”

“Zombie robots, Beatrice!”

“I’m walking away.”

“Beep-boop, feed me your braaaaains!”

“I don’t know you!”

Despite her better judgment, Beatrice decided that she should spend the rest of the night at her father’s apartment—mostly because she needed to finish gathering things together, and only partially because she felt a little bad for yelling at the old man and leaving him to fend for himself. Thankfully, when she got to their door and pulled the spare key from under the mat, her father was already fast asleep in his recliner (even with the TV blasting static after losing signal). He was a heavy sleeper; he wouldn’t be getting up until late in the morning, and she could deal with all his bluster then. As she passed by him into her own room, she carefully took the remote from his limp hand—jumping slightly as he let out a deep, rumbling snore—and turned off the TV set.

“Jeez,” she muttered under her breath, resting a hand on her chest to try and still her pounding heart as she closed the door to her room behind her.

Everything was still in boxes. She hadn’t unpacked for years, ever since the move. It was probably for the best; she didn’t plan on staying in this godforsaken tiny cell of a room much longer, anyway. She shook her head and moved to plop down on the bed, her entire body throbbing with exhaustion. Sleep beckoned to her, but she couldn’t stop her mind from racing in dizzy circles.

She had seen her mother. The noise had all faded away, and her mother had taken her hand out of the dark and shown her the faint light of the moon that pierced the blackness all around them. She was… beautiful. Vibrant and happy, the way she had been before the cancer ate her up alive. And she had told her… everything was going to be okay. It was probably just delusion talking, especially with Mae saying she had seen Casey, but… She had to admit, when it was all said and done and Mae had finished her weird half-babbling into the dark, she felt… lighter. Like a heavy weight had been finally lifted off of her.

“Ugh. Whatever,” she groaned, reaching off the side of her bed and feeling around for her laptop. There was no way she was going to be sleeping anytime soon.

She briefly opened her IMs, only to chuckle when she saw that Mae had left her a message that had drifted off into utter nonsense of keyboard-smash when her exhausted girlfriend had no doubt fallen asleep and somehow managed to hit “send” before passing out. For a moment, she considered messaging Angus—but what would she tell him? How did she explain the weird hell she had been through today? For the last several days? She shook her head. No; she’d have to save the weird explanations for the next time they got together in person.

She browsed random sites she used to visit almost every day, in the height of her boredom, only to crinkle her nose and close every tab after just a few moments apiece. None of them were holding her interest, and none of them were succeeding in distracting her from what had happened earlier.

“Damn it. This is stupid.”

In a last fit of desperation, she opened up her email—which she checked maybe once a month, as ninety percent of her inbox was nothing but spam messages from websites she had been required to create an account for. They had promised not to sell her information or send her emails, of course, but they had all lied . Still, at least tidying her inbox made her feel like she had some control over… something.

Increase your penis size 12xx toDAY! YOU HAVE WON $1,00,000,0000!!! Did You Know About This Miracle Cure For Heart Disease??? Nonsensical, grammatically incorrect, money-grubbing schemes, the lot of them. Also at least fifteen viruses in very bad disguises. Why did these people even try anymore? Did anyone ever actually click on these links?

Just checking in . She marked it for deletion, rolling her eyes—and then paused as her eyes flickered to the email address of the sender. Her heart leapt into her throat. xxxxxxx@xxxxxxx. edu . That… was not a spam email. That was…

She quickly opened it, her eyes wide.

Hello, Miss Santello,

I hope this e-mail finds you well. I had noticed that you had accepted your invitation to attend our university a while back, and our records show that you never matriculated. This is to be expected, sometimes; not every student is interested, and not all students send messages when, for some reason or another, their matriculation falls through. I know how hard it can be. Still, when we looked back through your files, we saw that you were a truly exceptional student. If you are not presently enrolled with another institution, we would be happy to work with you on getting you back on track to attend our university. We do have several financial aid options still available, if that is something you need assistance with.

Please reply to this e-mail at your earliest convenience, even if the answer is a ‘no, thank you!’ We look forward to hearing from you.

Regards,

…

The laptop nearly fell right off of the bed as Beatrice stared up at the ceiling, her heart racing. That had been her top choice school before… It was so far away, though. Practically on the other side of the world, as far as Possum Springs was concerned. How would she take care of her father? What about Mae? What about—

She shook her head, letting her eyes wander over the message again. We do have several financial aid options still available … With a deep breath, Beatrice pressed the heels of her hands against her eyes. In spite of herself, she was laughing; a deep, breathless, sobbing laughter that threatened to completely overwhelm her.

She was going to get out of Possum Springs. She was going to go to college.

Her father would just have to figure his own shit out, and Mae--…well.

Mae was coming with her, damn it.

Chapter Text

            “This is stupid,” Beatrice groused—though when Mae flicked her eyes up to examine her girlfriend, the smile tugging at her lips was obvious.

            It was strange to think that, only a week or so after staring down the Black Goat and coming out more-or-less alive and unscathed, they were standing in the middle of Piney Point Amusement Park, surrounded by rows upon rows of (obviously rigged) games. A couple of enormous roller coasters loomed in the distance, and the smell of cotton candy and kettle corn had thoroughly suffused the air. Neon lights glimmered from every stand, broken only by the brilliant amber of the street lamps overhead. Despite all of those things, however, Mae had eyes for only one thing: the ferris wheel that stood off to the side, overlooking a lake that seemed to stretch on forever. It was going to be the perfect night—because tonight, things were finally looking up for them. Well… for one of them, anyway.

            “Aw, c’mon, BeaBea! We gotta celebrate you going back to college!”

            “I mean—maybe going back to college. It’s not a done deal yet.”

            “You’re going, Bea!”

            “I don’t even know if I can pay for—“

            “You’re going!” Mae half-shouted, drawing the attention of everyone in a twenty-foot radius. Bea rolled her eyes, but Mae leaned up and pressed a quick kiss to her cheek, and she couldn’t help but smile. “Even if I have to work a hundred jobs.”

            “You don’t even have one job,” Beatrice replied, falling back on her usual argument.

            Mae snorted, shoving her hands deep into the pockets of her overstuffed puffy coat. Beatrice had raised a brow when she had taken forever dressing in the damn thing and then come out waddling like a morbidly obese duck, but Mae offered no explanation save for ‘it’s really cozy, okay’. After some awkward staring, Beatrice had decided to just go with it. Little did she know…

            “Hey. Always one job I can get. I can sell my body—“

            “What?” Bea nearly choked, and Mae cackled as she reached up to pat her on the back.

            “Yeah! I’ll be a stripper! They make, like, so much money, BeaBea. And all I gotta do is like, wiggle around on a pole all scantily clad, like, ‘ooo yes, I’m sooo cute, shove more money down my—‘”

            “Oh my God, no.”

            “Aw, c’mooon,” Mae pouted. “You don’t think I’m hot enough to be a stripper?”

            “Uhh… I mean, you could maybe manage it, if—oh my God why are we still talking about this?”

            Mae cackled again, hooking her arm around Bea’s as she gave her a bright, toothy grin. Even there in the dim artificial light, Mae could see the faint blush on her flustered girlfriend’s cheeks.

            People ambled about all around them, laughing and talking and trying their hand to outwit the carnies in their (again, horribly rigged) games of chance, winning little trinkets for whoever they were with and getting smooched in return. Who would have ever thought that amusement parks could be so gosh-darn romantic? All Mae had ever gone for was to ride the roller coasters in increasingly stupid ways and get thrown out for nearly starting a fight with carnies who had rigged their games so obviously that it was basically a crime. There was just so much she never knew—a whole secret underbelly of Piney Point, full of smooching and people making cutesy faces at one another.

            She was going to get in on that action, for sure. But she was going to out-do every one of these people and their stupid oversized stuffed—

            “Wait, is that a stuffed taco with a smiley face on it?”

            Beatrice blinked, turning her head in the direction that Mae was suddenly staring.

            “…It sure is. Why would anyone—“

            Mae gripped her arm tightly, and Beatrice raised a brow as her girlfriend looked up at her with wide eyes full of want.

            “I. Need. That. Taco. Beatrice.”

            “What are you even going to—“

            “Beeeeeeeea. I neeeeed it,” Mae whined, her eyes practically glowing as they reflected the neon and the moon in equal measure.

            Beatrice stared at her for a long moment, then, finally, her dour expression cracked into a smile.

            “You would. Okay, we’ll go pay way more for a stupid game than that thing is actually worth, and you’ll go home with a giant taco tonight.”

            “Worth it,” Mae said, grinning from ear to ear as she dragged Bea toward the game.

            They had time to kill before the boys got here, anyway. Piney Point was a little closer to Possum Springs than Bright Harbor, and Angus had had to work late on some really important project that involved a lot of codes and waiting for the codes to report bugs that then had to be re-coded and… that’s about where both she and Gregg had gotten completely lost, so they had both given up in the end.

            The game itself was one of those shooting gallery things, where you tried to knock the teeth out of an incredibly creepy clown’s smiling mouth with a little air-powered cannon that shot beanbags. Mae bounced from foot-to-foot as Beatrice paid the shady-looking guy at the booth, then returned and gestured to the little stool that stood in front of the cannon.

            “All right,” Bea said with a sigh, looking at Mae. “Knock yourself out.”

            “What? No! You gotta do it, Bea!”

            “Ugh… really? I’m not even good at these stupid games.”

            “I don’t wanna win myself a taco, Beatrice. That’s not how this works. Have you not been watching the amusement park romance scene?” Mae gestured broadly around them, at the giggling couples walking around the midway with their trinkets of victories past.

            Beatrice hesitated, then heaved a sigh and slowly lowered herself onto the little red stool so that she could take hold of the cannon’s weirdly oily handles. Mae beamed, darting over to her side and resting her hands on Bea’s wrists.

            “Here, I’ll help you shoot since you suck at this. This one’s actually pretty easy, too.”

            “O-Okay,” Beatrice replied, and Mae couldn’t help but grin at the little stutter. They had been together for—jeez, like, half a year now—and Bea still got flustered by the tiniest displays of affection even when she was usually the one to take things a little bit further than just affection.

            The tinny bell rang to signal the start of the game, and the air cannon powered up with a low thudding whirr. At once, any sentimentality Mae might have been feeling was driven to the wayside by the sheer competitive desire to murder the shit out of that goddamned clown, and Mae’s face dropped into a war grimace as she guided Bea’s shots this way and that.

            “Eat shit, toothy clown! Not so toothy now, are you? More like—like tooth-less!”

            “Oh my God, that barely even makes sense,” Beatrice muttered, though a smile was trapped on her face nonetheless.

            “Don’t diss my trash talk, Bea.”

            “I mean… they could use some improvement.”

            “Oh, yeah? Well, then, you think you’re so good at war cries, you come up with something.”

            “I’ll pass,” Bea drawled, though she chuckled as they fired another shot and knocked out another abnormally large, plank-like tooth.

            “That’s what I thought. Try being funny on a diet of applesauce and rancid pudding, clown!”

            Bea finally laughed, shaking her head as she more-or-less let Mae direct all of the shots. Finally, the bell rang again, signaling the end of the round, and Mae puffed her chest out with pride when she saw they had knocked out nearly all of the horrible monster’s equally horrible long teeth.

            “We have a winner. Pick your pri—“

            “TACO,” Mae shouted, releasing Beatrice to bounce over to the counter in her puffy coat (which rattled strangely with every bounce).

            “Okay, then,” the man replied, raising one bushy brow before reaching up and grabbing one of the stuffed tacos to slowly hand down to Mae. She let out a wordless sound of joy and darted back to Beatrice, offering her the weird little stuffed taco that grinned at them with a face full of love. And hope. Tacos were so good.

            “Uh… what?”

            “Take it, Bea,” Mae stage-whispered, giving her a very stern look.

            After a moment’s hesitation, Bea took the taco with a shrug—and then, as Mae held out her hands with a broad smile, Beatrice laughed and handed it back over.

            “Here you go. Very important gift, from me to you. Enjoy,” she said, rolling her eyes even as she smiled.

            “Oh my God, Beatrice! He’s so cute! I’m going to name him Winston!”

            “What? Winston?”

            “Yeah! He looks like a Winston. Love our son, Beatrice.”

            Beatrice only laughed again as she rose off of the stool and hooked her arm with Mae’s once more, leading the two of them away from the game stand as Mae cooed over her precious taco baby. Together, they wandered up and down the midway, people-watching and outfit-judging—seriously, some of them were absolute trash fires, and that was coming from Mae who owned maybe three whole shirts. Eventually, bored of their idle meandering, they settled down in front of a food stand and shared a plate of the greasiest giant funnel cake Mae had ever seen in her life.

            “This is good,” Mae said around a mouthful of the stuff.

            “I mean, I guess. As far as heart-stopping, artery-clogging carnival fare goes.”

            “No, no, not the funnel cake—I mean, it’s good, too, don’t get me wrong. I could eat carnival food every single day of my life and then die a fat, happy mess. But, no, I meant, like… this. This whole… Being outside, together, just not worrying about stuff, having fun… Like a date!”

            Beatrice blinked at her.

            “Yeah?”

            “Yeah! I mean… we haven’t really gone on a whole lot of date-dates because you were, like… working. And then suddenly you weren’t, but things were bad, and… there was the whole, uh… sinkhole and Black Goat thing…”

            Bea nodded, propping up her head in one hand as she idly picked at the edges of the funnel cake with a cheap plastic fork.

            “I guess you’re right.” She paused a long moment, then sighed and set her fork down as she looked at her girlfriend with a slight grimace. “I’m sorry. Things have been super shitty.”

            “What? No, it’s not even your fault. Well… I mean, some of it was. But this stuff recently? Not your fault. Shit happens, Bea,” Mae said with a shrug, stuffing another large mass of funnel cake into her mouth. Thankfully, she took her time to chew and swallow it before speaking again. “I’m just happy we can do this stuff now. And you’re going to go to college and… I dunno. It just finally feels like we’re on an upswing, you know? Like maybe we’re not going to be haunted by a dying town and a horrible eldritch monster living in the bottom of a really deep hole for the rest of our lives.”

            “Yeah…” There was still hesitation in her voice, and Mae gave her a sharp look.

            “You’re going to college, Beatrice M. Santello.”

            “M?” Bea’s lips quirked up in a smirk. “Since when do I have a middle initial?”

            “As of right now! It stands for… M… Ma… oh! Mae’s. Beatrice Mae’s Santello. And you’re going to college, quit trying to change the subject.”

            Beatrice rolled her eyes again and went to argue, only to be cut off by a loud, shrill voice that was unmistakably Gregg.

            “THERE! I SEE ‘EM!”

            “Okay, Bug, maybe not quite so loud,” Angus said, wincing slightly and rubbing the ear closest to his boyfriend as they approached the girls.

            Gregg didn’t seem to hear—or, if he did, he sure didn’t take notice of the request. He dashed over to Mae, and Mae grinned to see that he, too, was wearing a strangely large, puffy coat that seemed to rustle and rattle in unusual ways when he walked. Yes. Perfect.

            “Too bad you didn’t get hit by a bumper car and electrocuted,” she called as soon as he got close enough to hear.

            “Too bad you didn’t fall off the ferris wheel and break your neck!”

            “Too bad you didn’t get shanked by a carny in the back alleys of the midway!”

            “Too bad you didn’t get food poisoning and poop your guts out of your FACE!”

            Mae blinked, and Gregg only beamed at her.

            “Ouch, man. Harsh.”

            Gregg cackled, then pounced onto her in a tight hug—which was made all the more awkward by their competing puffy coats that… crunched?... when he practically crushed her in his arms.

            “God, it’s good to see you,” he said, finally releasing her with a mischievous smile.

            “You say that every single time you see me,” Mae replied, rolling her eyes.

            “And it’s always true!”

            Angus sidled over to the table next to Beatrice, slowly lowering himself onto the bench just as Mae hopped up. Beatrice quirked a brow at her girlfriend, gesturing vaguely to the half-finished funnel cake, and Mae flapped her hand in response.

            “You and Angus finish up! And take care of Winston for me! We’ve got stuff to do!”

            “What? I thought this was a date or whatever?” Beatrice’s brow furrowed, and Mae darted over to give her a kiss on the cheek.

            “It is! But we’ve got—don’t even worry about it. It’s gonna be good, okay?”

            “C’mon, duder,” Gregg called, practically bouncing with excitement.

            Beatrice was giving her the patented Beatrice Santello Is On To Your Bullshit And Absolutely Disapproves Of It look, but Mae only gave her another quick kiss and promptly scurried away to join her friend. Angus only shrugged when she turned her gaze to him—though the faint smile that lingered on his lips had her squinting with curiosity. What the hell were those two up to now?

            “Dude, you got the stuff?” Mae asked in hushed tones as she and Gregg walked quickly in the general direction of the ferris wheel.

            “Girl, you know I do! Got as much as I could find of the really pretty ones, but it’s kinda the wrong season, so there’s not a whole bunch of them,” he replied, shrugging slightly. “We’ll make do.”

            “Did you talk to the guy?”

            “Yeah. He wasn’t gonna do it at first, but between me and Angus, we smoothed him right over.”

            “Niiice,” Mae said, grinning as she lifted up a fist to be bumped. “Crimes?”

            “Crimes!” He paused after the fist-bump, briefly considering. “…Well, sort of. It’s not technically illegal, I don’t think.”

            “Shh. We deserve this moment, Greggory.”

            “Girl, we so totally do.”

            Their laughter rang through the night air, mingling with the discordant notes of the calliope and the grating ballyhoo of the barkers as they dashed toward their destination, coats jiggling and jostling the whole way. A single small firework fell out of Gregg’s jacket onto the sidewalk with a loud pop, and the two of them screamed in unison before running even faster.

            “Dude dude dude hold onto your shit, geez!”

            “Ok ok ok ok ok, I got it, I got it!”

            Angus took a long sip of hot chocolate, bought from a nearby stand, as he and Beatrice (and Winston, the infinitely charming stuffed taco) sat together in a companionable quiet. People milled around, children tugging on hands after being too highly-wired from candied and deep-fried everything, and music from about three conflicting genres gently overlapped one another as the evening settled down all around them. The park stayed open late today; they had several more hours until its official closing at one o’clock in the morning, but the park would be blessedly empty of screaming kids and rowdy teenagers by then.

            Beatrice crinkled her nose at her own thoughts. God, she sounded like some bitter old woman.

            …That wasn’t far from the truth, actually. She felt ancient at this point.

            “So… you said you had gotten an e-mail from the college?” Angus started at length, tilting his head at her from his new place across the table.

            “Huh? Oh. Yeah,” Beatrice replied, her heart fluttering slightly at the thought of it. It still felt like a dream that she was doomed to wake up from at any moment, but something inside her couldn’t help but cling stubbornly to hope, just this once. “Said I was welcome back, even if I’d be starting a little late, and we started talking about financial aid a little. She pointed me toward a couple of scholarships and told me to contact some other person about money they give out for hardship cases, but… I don’t know. I haven’t quite done that, yet.”

            “Nervous?” Angus asked. He always seemed to get right to the heart of what she was feeling, somehow.

            “…Yeah. I just… what if I’m not ready? What if I’ve forgotten how to, like… write an essay, or…”

            Angus chuckled, and Beatrice grimaced slightly.

            “I think that sort of thing is something you don’t really forget,” he said, shrugging a little as he smiled at his friend. “Besides… you were at the top of our class. You’ll do great. This stuff is like breathing to you. Remember how you passed that one test we both thought we were going to flunk even after studying for almost a week straight?”

            “God, yes. And then I got an A on it and I almost cried in front of the whole class.”

            “I got a B minus, and I actually did cry. A little bit. No one was looking, though.”

            Beatrice cracked a smile and leaned against the table, letting her folded arms support her weight.

            “…Do you ever think about going? Getting a degree so that you can get promoted or whatever?”

            “Oh, sure. I’m actually taking some online classes right now so I can get certified for some things, but I think I’d like to go back to school, eventually. Even if it’s distance learning. I like Bright Harbor too much to leave,” he replied, taking another long drink of the cocoa. “You could maybe do something like that, too, if this whole thing doesn’t work out.”

            “No. I have to get out of Possum Springs. I can’t—“

            The Black Goat, the horrible static roiling in the back of her mind, her father’s looming glare and helpless anger and despair turned toward whatever convenient target was nearby, her mother’s grave, nearly losing Mae an uncountable number of times in one goddamned year—all of these and more suddenly swirled into her mind, and Beatrice found herself struggling to breathe as she gripped the edge of the table.

            “I c-can’t…”

            A large, warm hand covered her own, and Angus frowned in his usual gentle way.

            “It’s okay. I know. I had to leave, too. I had to get away from… Well. You know.”

            Beatrice only nodded, blinking away panicked tears that stung at her eyes. The sensation of walking on the treadmill, of spinning her wheels and never getting anywhere, returned full-force. Then she closed her eyes for a moment and forced herself to suck in a deep breath, counting it in fours like Mae had shown her on the internet one night not too long ago.

            It wasn’t going to be like that, this time. This time, she was going to escape—and she was never coming back once she did.

            “So you actually went back to the mine? Like, for real?”

            Mae crinkled her nose as Gregg asked the question, the two of them now oddly chilly as they wandered away from the semi-shady but kinda handsome guy that had taken their coats full of smuggled goods—and twenty dollars out of Gregg’s wallet. Jerk.

            “I mean, yeah. It was Bea’s idea, actually. I think we almost died again.”

            “Did you actually go inside?”

            “Oh, no. No way. Plus, I don’t even think there’s a way to get inside. I dunno, things got really weird. I saw the black goat thing those cult guys talked about, I think, and I saw…” She hesitated, her heart twisting painfully as she remembered Casey singing with the other ghosts. It still hurt to know that he was really gone.

            “What? Saw what?” Gregg asked, ears pricked and eyes bright. She knew he didn’t one-hundred percent believe her about all of the spooky shit, but he believed her a little more than Bea and Angus usually did, so that was… something. But he knew Casey, too—better than she did, probably.

            “I, uh… I dunno, a lot of ghosts,” she said finally, shrugging it off as she hooked her thumbs in her pockets.

            Silence hung between them for a moment as their feet found concrete and tar again, and they both paused on the outskirts of the midway. Gregg looked at her, his blue eyes shining oddly in the backlight of the neon.

            “…Did you see Casey?”

            Mae grimaced, and Gregg drooped a little. She shifted her weight awkwardly, nodding as he continued to stare at her.

            “He looked happy, though, I think,” she said after a minute had passed. “He was singing.”

            “Yeah. Casey was… he sang a lot. I’m glad he looked good, I guess. Even if it was just a dream or a hallucination or whatever.”

            “Angus probably thinks it’s all a gas leak or something,” Mae muttered, heaving a sigh.

            “Oh, yeah, definitely. He doesn’t believe in any of the spooky stuff.”

            “Do you?”

            Gregg paused, tilting his head to one side as he pondered the question.

            “…I dunno. Sometimes I think I do.”

            Mae nodded. For a moment, the two of them stood there, simply staring out at the other people as they continued on their carefree way around Piney Point. Then, Mae leaned over and bumped Gregg with her shoulder.

            “C’mon. They’re waitin’ for us, and I gotta take your chicken ass on the big boy coaster.”

            “What? Me, chicken? Who was the one who freaked out and barfed after the Terror Train in sixth grade?” He cried indignantly, tossing his head back and looking at her with wide, accusatory eyes.

            “Hey! That was different, I was like—I was young and dumb and ate like three funnel cakes and a cotton candy before I rode! You’re the one that wussed out on the log flume.”

            “I WAS TWELVE AND WEARING REALLY NICE SHOES OKAY.”

            Mae cracked up laughing as Gregg took a mock-swing at her.

            “Last one back’s a chicken’s soggy butt after laying a rotten egg! (That’s you, by the way, you’re the butt),” Mae stage-whispered, leaning over to her friend and smirking. He swung again, and she cackled as she dodged out of the way and took off running.

            “GET BACK HERE WITH YOUR LYING LIAR MOUTH!”

            “Never!”

            Before long, he was laughing right behind her as their fight somehow turned out into the world’s weirdest game of tag between game stalls and angry carnies.

            “So things have been getting better?” Bea asked, trying to resist the urge to light a cigarette as they waited for Gregg and Mae to return to them.

            Angus nodded, a smile slowly spreading across his features.

            “Yeah. I think he’s starting to settle in. We talked about some of what was bothering him, and I think maybe we’re figuring stuff out. I don’t know. But it feels better than it did,” he explained, shrugging a little at the end. “Last autumn kinda messed us all up, I think. Worse than we already were, anyway.”

            Beatrice grimaced as she idly picked up Winston the Taco and turned him over in her hands, trying to distract herself. Bad enough they had all gone through hell together once; why did she and Mae have to find themselves fighting against the same old enemy again on their own? He seemed to be gone, now, taking the static and the horrible compulsions with him, but… who could say for sure? Just as she went to respond, however, she was cut off by having the air nearly knocked out of her lungs as Mae pounced on her and hugged her tight.

            “Safe! Can’t get me, I got Bea!” She paused, then yanked Winston out of Bea's hands and waggled him at Gregg. "And a taco shield! Begone, evildoer!"

            Gregg skidded to a halt just before he collided with the table, and pouted at Mae with all the enthusiastic frustration of a wronged fifth-grader.

            “Aw, man.” Then he seemed to remember Angus, and all of his features brightened again. “Hey, Captain! You wanna go ride the big coaster with me an’ Mae?”

            “Yeah! Come with us, Angus! And you, too, BeaBea!”

            “You guys are like a couple of kids,” Beatrice grumbled, though she ran her fingers through Mae’s scruffy hair anyway.

            “But you’ll still go, right?” Mae asked, leaning in close as she hugged the taco to her chest.

            Beatrice rolled her eyes and chuckled.

            “Yeah, sure. Why not?”

            “Yeah! C’mon, Angus!”

            “Oh, uh… No thanks. I’m not a big, uh… roller coaster person. You guys have fun.”

            Gregg only nodded, not forcing the issue as he sat next to his boyfriend and grinned.

            “I’ll stay with Angus, you guys go ride! We’ll meet up again at the ferris wheel in, like, an hour?”

            Mae squinted at him, nearly calling her friend out—but he only smiled, mischief twinkling in his eye. He nodded to her and Beatrice before waggling his eyebrows, and Mae caught on all at once.

            “Oh! Yeah, okay, sure,” she said, the words all pouring out like water over pebbles as she took hold of Bea’s hand and pulled her along. Romance. Had to do the romantic thing. Roller coasters were totally romantic, though, right? What was better than screaming your head off and nearly getting decapitated because you stood up on a ride where the bar was literally supposed to keep your stupid ass sitting down?

            She crinkled her nose. God, who even knew how romance worked? Definitely not the girl that caused untold injury and unspeakable horror at prom when she tried to kiss a cute boy, anyway. Her ears pressed back at the memory, and her quick pace suddenly slackened to a reflective crawl. What if Bea didn’t even like amusement parks? What if Bea was hating every single moment of this? What if, what if, what if…

            “Mae? Thought we were going to the roller coaster,” Beatrice said, tilting her head to one side as she pulled up next to her girlfriend. “Why are we stopping?”

            “Huh? Oh. I dunno. Are you having fun? Is this—is this a fun thing?”

            Bea blinked, quirking a brow.

            “Uh… I mean, it’s fine. I think I kind of forgot what ‘fun’ is for a while,” she admitted, shrugging one shoulder and looking away. “I haven’t been out to do something like this in years. Since I was a kid.”

            “Right. Yeah. I just… if you wanna do something else, we can totally just—“

            Bea gave her hand a gentle squeeze, and Mae looked up at her with a face full of conflicted anguish.

            “Hey. It’s fine.” She paused a moment, then cleared her throat as she glanced away and continued. “I mean, so long as I’m with you, it… God, that sounds really dumb.”

            Mae squeezed her hand right back, her worry melting into a beaming smile.

            “No, no. It sounds totally stupid, but I am definitely down for that kind of stupid.”

            “How do they even make it sound good in the movies? It’s so dumb.”

            “Way dumb,” Mae agreed, biting her lip. “…But I still kinda liked it.”

            Bea’s cheeks flushed, and she cleared her throat again.

            “Yeah, well. Anyway. Let’s go ride the thing. And don’t try to get yourself killed, because I still remember that one time in sixth grade when you—“

            “Oh my God, not you, too! That was one time!”

            Bea snorted a laugh, and Mae grinned in spite of herself. There, in that moment, she could have sworn that there was no way she could have possibly been any more in love with Beatrice Santello than she was right then. She was just so open, so relaxed—laughing and smiling more easily than Mae had seen her in the past year, for sure. Maybe more than she had done since… since her mom had died, and Mae hadn’t been there for her. Her heart twisted a bit at the thought, even as Bea took the lead and began lightly dragging her toward the looming rails of the roller coaster that twisted and turned every which way on the horizon.

            Thankfully, the line was short. Before long, they were loaded in to the front car of the coaster, climbing slowly up the large first hill. When the car finally dropped, Mae let out a wild whoop of laughter, raising her hands high into the air and clutching Winston between her knees as she screamed as loud as she could. Beatrice grinned, though her hands clutched the bar tightly as they soared around loops and twisted like a corkscrew through the bends. (Winston Tacoface was almost lost in the fray once or twice, but thankfully someone managed to grab him before the unthinkable could happen each time.)

            By the end of the ride, they were both dizzy on adrenaline, giggling madly at nothing in particular and comparing notes on the experience. They hopped on a couple more rides, and Mae’s heart radiated warmth as she saw Bea slowly loosen up over time. She laughed the whole way through the bumper cars as the two of them teamed up to take on unsuspecting prey; she beamed at the carousel with stars in her eyes, and had only brightened further when Mae offered to ride it with her—even though she said she was totally uninterested and that it was super lame; she even let out a shrill shriek of mingled joy and terror at the platform drop, and Mae was secretly bursting with excitement when Beatrice had turned to hold tightly to her rather than gripping onto the wall.

            When the two of them finally made their way back toward the ferris wheel, intent on meeting up with the boys again, Beatrice was practically like her old thirteen-year-old self that Mae remembered so fondly. She was a ray of sunshine cased in goth aesthetic, pure and natural against the harsh neon that colored Mae’s dreams. And, broken as they both were… she was perfect. They were perfect.

            “There they are,” Gregg barked, waving his arms over his short frame as he grinned at them from the line to the ferris wheel. “Hey! Over here!”

            Angus waved with him—more subdued, naturally, but still smiling—and Mae happily tugged Beatrice over to join them in line.

            “Just in time,” Angus said, nodding to the lengthening line behind them. “The ferris wheel gets really popular before closing. We got a good spot.”

            As Angus talked, distracting Beatrice, Mae and Gregg shuffled off to one side and whispered in conspiratorial tones.

            “So it’s all set?”

            “Yeah! Dude said he was gonna get in so much trouble, but he was planning to quit anyway.”

            “Huh. But you’re sure he’ll, like… actually do it, though?”

            “Oh, for sure. Dude’s a pyromaniac like you wouldn’t believe.”

            Mae paused, squinting at her best friend.

            “…Okay, but he’s not going to, like… burn the ferris wheel down, right?”

            “Probably not!”

            This was not especially reassuring. Still, burning to death on top of a ferris wheel was kind of a cool way to go—and, besides, there was a lake less than twenty feet away from them, so the chances of death were pretty small. Severe burning, on the other hand…

            “Eff it,” Mae said, shrugging. “It’ll be worth it.”

            “Yeah!”

            “What’s worth it?” Beatrice cut in, quirking a brow and giving her girlfriend a look of deepest suspicion.

            “Waiting in this line,” Mae replied hesitantly, dragging out every syllable as she invented the lie and smiled her biggest, most totally innocent-looking smile ever.

            It didn’t work.

            “What are you two up to this time?”

            Thankfully, Mae didn’t have a chance to lie again; the barker called them forward and got them situated in the little car, then slowly rotated them up and allowed Angus and Gregg to get in behind them. Beatrice was still glowering at her girlfriend, and Mae fidgeted under the weight of her gaze.

            “It’s fine, it’s fine, it’s totally fine,” she blurted, laughing nervously as the wheel slowly turned again. God, she hoped it was fine. Everything else had gone so wonderfully right today that she would straight up die if this last super cool thing went really, really wrong.

            As the car slowly neared the apex of the wheel, Mae’s fidgeting only increased. They were running out of time. Surely the dude wasn’t going to rip them off—and surely Bea wouldn’t throw her out of the moving ferris wheel car, even as pissed as she was getting.

            Mae sucked in a breath.

            “Okay, look, so me and Gregg had a cool idea and we were just going to blow off some steam and do this thing and it was going to be a really good thing but I guess it’s not actually—“

            “What? Mae, slow down. I can’t understand what you’re—“

            “—and it’s really bad because I really wanted this to happen because you deserve nice things and—“

            “Mae, seriously, you’re talking too fast. Just breathe and tell—“

            There was nothing to tell. A soft thump sounded over the water, and Mae could see the pale ember of a rocket rising up from the other side of the lake. Her heart fluttered in her chest as Beatrice caught sight of it, as well—just in time for it to burst, exploding into brilliant shimmering gold against the night sky. The wheel came to a sudden halt as the ride operator panicked, and Mae grinned when another rocket rose up—and another—and another.

            Reds and greens, deep ocean blues and golden sunshine all scattered across the sky, lighting the dead of night as if it were the middle of the day. She didn't even remember getting that many of the big pretty shells; either Gregg had done some major scouting, or that guy was more prepared than they thought. Either way, it was totally worth it: Beatrice was grabbing her hand with both of her own, and Mae slumped with relief against the vinyl bench of the car.

            “You… you did this?” Beatrice asked, her voice barely a whisper.

            “Yeah. Me an’ Gregg.  I wanted to do something cool, to celebrate your whole probably-going-back-to-college thing, and Gregg always has cool ideas for weird over-the-top stuff, and… well, we came up with fireworks. Because they explode and they’re pretty and…” She trailed off, words all cluttering up her brain and preventing one another from coming out right.

            Beatrice was silent for a moment, and Mae bit her lip as she looked over at her girlfriend. Her guts twisted into knots with anxiety when she saw the sheen of unshed tears in Bea’s eyes.

            “Do you… do you not like it? Did I do bad?”

            Bea shook her head, clearing her throat before looking away from the brilliant display to lock eyes with Mae. Mae’s ear twitched, and she had to swallow past a large lump that had suddenly formed in her throat.

            “I love it.” A pause, the length of a pair of heartbeats. “I love you.”

            Mae only beamed in response, leaning in to close the distance between them. Their lips met just as another set of fireworks exploded over the lake in hues of brilliant gold. She could have sworn she heard Gregg letting out a little whoop and cat-calling behind them, but she didn’t care; she had Beatrice (and Winston, of course). They had each other, and, for once, it finally felt like the sun was coming out to burn away the dismal grey fog that had hung over them since the previous autumn.

            For once, it finally felt like things were going to be okay.

            …she just hoped that, this time, it would last.

(Winston will make sure it does. He's a good boy.)

Chapter Text

                Mae watched from just inside the door of her parents' house as her father hefted another box full of her stuff outside, into the trunk of the familiar car. She had her arms curled around Winston, though it did little to calm the constant tremor in her hands. Any time they asked, she had merely given them her biggest grin, though she couldn't force it to reach her wide eyes no matter how hard she tried.

                Beatrice was following her dreams. She had gotten damn near a full ride to the school she had been wanting to go to since she was maybe thirteen, and now she was moving across the country in order to live just off the campus in a state Mae had half-thought didn't actually exist. Ears pressing back slightly, she watched her father carefully wiggle her box into the pile of others that had been shoved back there. Beatrice was leaving Possum Springs.

                And she was taking Mae with her.

                Mae was excited. She was--really. They were going somewhere way nicer than Possum Springs, they were going to be living together, Beatrice was going to be happier than she had ever been. It was great. It was...

                It was terrifying.

                But she couldn't let them know that.

                "Hey, Kitten. That's about everything. Figured you'd want to take your bass down, yourself. I know how you are about that thing," her father rumbled, snapping her attention to him as he smiled down at her. She saw the wrinkles around his eyes, and found herself wondering when her father had suddenly become an old man.

                "I--yeah. Yeah, sure," she replied, still forcing her too-wide smile as she hugged Winston the Taco just a little bit tighter to her chest. "Thanks for helping me get packed and loaded, dad."

                "Of course. That's what dads are for," he said, his voice light even as she saw his eyes shimmering slightly beneath his glasses.

                Mae wanted to hug him and never let go. She wanted to tell him that things would somehow be okay, that she would send them money to pay them back for everything they had done for her, that they wouldn't lose the house--and even if they did, they could always come and stay with her... but instead, she cleared her throat and scurried up the stairs to the loft where she had lived for the past twenty-something years, give or take a semester or so.

                It was... breathtakingly bare. How had she ever fit so much crap so comfortably into such a tiny space? How had she not noticed that long crack in the wall, foundation shifting--her mind raced to sinkholes, to the massive yawning chasm that had swallowed the Pickaxe whole, and she squeezed her eyes shut as a tremor ran through her entire body.

                No, it's fine. It's fine. This neighborhood is on higher ground, I think. Which is... good.

                She shook her head, her breath coming shaky as she forced her eyes open again and moved to grab the neck of her worn-out bass. Gregg had kept it in decent shape when Casey had... It needed a string replaced, but that was easy enough. She'd look into it when they got settled.

                Across the country.

                In a brand-new apartment.

                In a city she had never been to, and a college she wasn't going to attend.

                Even though no one was there with her, she bared her teeth in a fierce grin as a high, thin laugh escaped her. It was fine. It was totally fine. It's not like it was Durkillesburg! Totally different place! Totally different people, different shapes, different smells, different...

                Everything.

                Mae had never run downstairs faster in her life. Had to get in the car, had to get going. Nevermind that the last road trip she'd taken with Beatrice nearly destroyed them both. Nevermind that the last time she had left home for good, she had wound up back in Possum Springs within a year.

                Beatrice quirked a brow at her as she shoved her bass roughly into the back seat, on top of a laundry basket full of clean, folded clothes. Mae didn't make eye contact with her--or with her parents, who were standing together at the door in a loose, one-armed embrace.

                "Call us when you stop for the night, sweetie! And don't forget to let your dad know you're safe, Beatrice, dear. I know he's a grouch, but that man loves you," her mother said, and Mae's smile wavered around the edges.

                "Mm. Drive safe, girls. And remember, you can always come spend holidays here if you want. Or we can come to your place," her dad said, grinning. "I'll bring the food, you cook it."

                Beatrice was smiling--a genuine smile, soft and bright.

                "Will do. Thanks, Mr. and Mrs. Borowski. For... well, everything," she said, her hand idly rubbing up and down one long, black sleeve.

                Candy sniffled, and Mae's smile faltered further.

                "Okay, well, thanks again, mom and dad. We'll definitely call you okay bye," Mae blurted, practically throwing the passenger door open and hopping into the seat before slamming it shut again. She heard Beatrice and her parents talking in muffled voices, but she didn't let herself focus on what they said. Her leg bounced so hard that her knee kept hitting the dashboard.

                Finally, Bea slipped into the driver's seat, and Mae sucked in a slow, deep breath as the car rumbled to life around them. It was just a road trip. She was just going somewhere with her best friend--with her girlfriend--with the one person who knew everything she had been through and hadn't quite run away screaming just yet.

                But that was just it, wasn't it?

                She hadn't left yet.

                Mae's fingers knitted tightly together as she stared out the window of the car, watching the buildings pass by as Beatrice slowly made her way to the Interstate.

                "So... you excited?" Beatrice drawled, snapping Mae out of her brief reverie.

                "Huh? Oh--yeah. Uh-huh."

                "That's convincing," her girlfriend replied, and Mae blinked before forcing another bright smile.

                "Sorry! I was just thinkin' about stuff. Hell yeah, I'm excited! You're going to college, BeaBea! Like you always wanted! It's gonna be super great."

                Bea smiled--that warm, genuine smile that made Mae's heart ache because she hadn't seen it in years--and Mae looked away.

                "Yeah. Finally getting out of Possum Springs. Just like you said we would. Still can't believe the old man gave me the car, though."

                Mae nodded, unable to focus as Bea's words slipped like water through all the gross wrinkly folds of her brain. They got further and further away, the radio playing softly like it would in some kind of uplifting movie about coming-of-age and defeating your demons--but Mae's eyes remained focused on the last few landmarks she recognized as they slowly faded into the distance. Her breath hitched in her throat.

                It's fine. Just a road trip. It's just... just a trip.

                The world around her fractured, and Mae's eyes blinked rapidly, trying to clear away the shapes.

                No. No! He's gone, he's--I beat him, he's gone! Why is this still happening?

                Her entire body trembled as she hugged herself tighter, nails digging into Winton's soft, yielding fabric. Still, the feral grin remained trapped on her face, as if this were all some kind of terrible cosmic joke--some prank that God had been playing on her for ages, and had just now decided to finally reveal.

                It was never the Black Goat, a voice answered her, curiously familiar.

                She squinted, sucking in a breath as she caught sight of her eyes in the window's reflection. Nightmare eyes, red and hollow.

                It was always you. You're just broken. Fucked up. And you fuck up everything you touch, so why bother? This is just going to end up like everything else you've ever done. Hurting someone--probably Beatrice, let's be real. Ending up in jail. Better, ending up like Casey.

                She closed her eyes tight as she felt the fragmenting shapes grow finer and more abstract.

                Shut up. That's not true.

                It is. What, you don't think she'll realize what a goddamn trash fire you are as soon as you two really move in together? What are you going to be doing while she goes and gets her degree? Playing video games and watching porn all day?

                No! I'm... I'm going to get a job, and--

                The voice in her head laughed, cruel and mocking.

                Oh, right. Like all those jobs you applied for in Possum Springs?

                That was... that was different.

                But was it? How hard had she really tried at those interviews? How many times had she screwed around on the application, just because she could? Had she really cared about finding a job, or just getting people off her backs by pretending like she was? She squirmed in her seat, becoming less certain by the moment. Why did she do anything she did? For the attention?

                She opened her eyes again, staring blearily past her reflection and into unfamiliar terrain. How far had they gone? The air was tense in the car, and she felt Bea's eyes flicking toward her every so often.

                Shit, shit, shit... Pull it together, Mae. You can't ruin this for Bea, you can't--

                Oh, but you will. It's what you do best, isn't it?

                Her teeth ground together so hard that she thought her jaw was going to dislocate.

                Tsk. Going to drag her right down into the ditch with you, aren't you? You were smarter when you were twelve. Stopped talking to her so that you wouldn't suck her into your vortex of failure.

                It was true. It was all true. What had she ever done with her life so far? Got a criminal record, barely avoided juvie and real jail thanks to her aunt, sent a kid to the hospital because his head had become shapes and freaked her out...

                How long before Beatrice is nothing but broken, bloody shapes smeared all over your fists?

                She gasped, and Beatrice frowned.

                "Hey. Mae--"

                "I can't! I can't, I can't--we have to go back, you can just drop me off and I'll just--I can't, Bea," she said, the words coming in a high, manic stream as tears stung at her eyes. Her heart galloped in her chest, and she felt like her lungs were caving in with every breath.

                "Whoa! Whoa, Mae, just... breathe, it's okay," Beatrice said, carefully pulling the car over to the shoulder and stopping before reaching over the console to wrap Mae up in a tight hug. "It's okay."

                "No! It's all--shapes! I can't--it's not supposed to be like this! We beat him! Why am I still like this? I'm just--I'm fucked up, Beatrice! I'm fucked up, and I'll just--just--fuck you up with me if I go. I don't--we can't--"

                "Shh..." Beatrice murmured, her hold tightening. "Deep breaths. Count them out, remember? Four in, four hold, four out."

                "I don't--"

                "Count with me. Come on. One... two... three... four..."

                In spite of herself, Mae found herself counting the seconds of her breaths in time with Bea's low, gentle voice. She closed her eyes, burying her face against her girlfriend's shoulder. Eventually, her heart stopped feeling like it was going to tear its way out of her chest, and her breathing more-or-less evened out.

                "There we go... Better?"

                Mae nodded a little, but couldn't make herself look up at Beatrice as a few cars idly whizzed by on the highway beside them.

                "Hey. It's okay. Yeah, you've got a lot of issues to work on--but so do I. So does pretty much everybody, especially us twenty-somethings that have been stuck in a dying town trapped in the past for the last five decades. That doesn't mean you're broken," Beatrice said, gently rubbing one hand up and down Mae's back. "Remember when we talked about the road trip forever ago? What did you tell me then?"

                "I said," Mae began, sucking in a trembling breath, "that... that you were home enough."

                "Mm-hmm. I know we've been through a lot, but... is that still true?"

                Mae considered this for a moment. Even after all of the fighting, all of the chaos, all of--of whatever it had been with the Black Goat, she and Beatrice had always come back together in the end, stronger and better than they had been before.

                She chanced a glance up at her girlfriend, who met her gaze with a patient half-smile.

                "...Yeah," Mae muttered, the shapes around her becoming more like puzzle pieces that were slowly trying to fit themselves back together again.

                "Besides. Like your dad said, it's not like this has to be forever. We're not banished or anything."

                Mae nodded to herself, remembering good-byes she'd made from just last week, when she was still all excited and not nervous. Selmers had promised to send her e-mails or instant messages with new poems at least once a month. Lori had had a miniature panic attack that almost sent Mae into a panic herself, but then had assured her that she was just excited, too. Gregg and Angus were thrilled to bits for both of them--and had already promised to meet them the day after they arrived to help them unpack.

                It wasn't good-bye for any of them, really. It was just... see you later.

                "...What am I gonna do, Bea?"

                "Hmm?"

                Mae leaned her head back against Beatrice's shoulder, ignoring the uncomfortable way the seatbelt buckle and the console both pressed against her thigh as she scooted closer to her girlfriend.

                "I don't... I can't make it in college. And... one of us has to work, right? But I don't know... I don't know what to do."

                "Eh. No need to worry too much. They gave me that work-study, remember? I'll be in the library most weekday evenings, and they'll give me some spending money."

                "What if it's not enough, though? What if I hurt you, or--"

                "Mae. Look at me."

                For a moment, she resisted. Then, finally, she turned her gaze up to Beatrice, who met her eyes evenly with a confidence that Mae hadn't seen from her in ages.

                "One, you would never hurt me." Mae opened her mouth to argue, then slowly closed it again. Bea sounded so sure about it, so confident, that she felt that particular worry slowly fizzle to the very back of her mind. "Two," she continued, "even if I have to subsist exclusively on shitty ramen and tap water every day for the next four years, I am going to make this work. We are going to make this work. Together."

                Mae finally smiled--a strange, watery smile.

                "Beatrice Santello." She sniffled. "I would rather die than eat shitty ramen every night."

                Beatrice laughed, throwing her head back slightly before leaning in and kissing Mae's forehead.

                "Since when did you become a ramen snob?"

                "Since I had my own college experience that failed spectacularly, thank you very much."

                Beatrice only laughed again, and Mae couldn't help but smile in spite of her still-nagging fears.

                "You're such a dork."

                "Your dork?" She asked, tilting her head slightly to one side.

                Beatrice paused, considering her for a long moment, and Mae felt her heart flutter in her chest at the way her girlfriend's eyes roved over her before a slow smile crept across her face.

                "Yeah. My dork."

                Beatrice leaned in, closing the space between them in a warm kiss, and Mae felt herself practically melting against her. Maybe she was right. Maybe they could make it work.

                And maybe your fat ass will learn to fly, the voice in her head snarled.

                Mae winced slightly--and then furrowed her brow, leaning into Beatrice and hugging her possessively closer.

                Fuck off, she thought, molding her lips against her girlfriend's as another car whizzed by and honked at them. And fuck you, too, buddy!

                Beatrice laughed into the kiss, slowly pulling away before shifting to settle back into her seat. Mae pouted a little at the loss of contact, but immediately perked up when she noticed that the shapes were... less, somehow. Less intimidating, less frightening, less... huge and looming. Like they really were just some kid's jigsaw puzzle she had to work out. Thankfully, she had Beatrice Santello right there beside her for help, whenever she needed it.

                "We should, uh... probably not keep sitting here on the side of the highway like idiots. Someone's going to call the cops. Onward?"

                Mae looked at her, their eyes locking across the narrow confines of the car. Bea was a solid, steady presence; her dark eyes shone with the constancy of some astronomical object, like the dawn stars she had spied with Mr. Chazokov nearly every other day. As soon as she could, Mae was going to find her shape in those stars... because it had to be there. Beatrice Santello deserved to be out there with the other legends.

                "...Yeah. Let's do this," Mae said, her voice strangely low in her own ears.

                Beatrice smiled, and the car slowly rumbled back up to speed on the Interstate, carrying them further and further away from Possum Springs--from everything Mae had ever known. But maybe... maybe sometimes you had to get away from it to understand it all. To heal from it. To learn to be a person again.

                She took a deep breath, letting her eyes slowly slide shut as she focused on the tinny music plinking through the radio and the rumble of the tires on the road.

                "Can always see if they'd let you help out in the stacks at the library. There's always room for more manual labor. And I'm pretty sure anybody can enter numbers into spreadsheets," Beatrice mused, letting one hand drop from the steering wheel to idly twine her fingers with Mae's.

                "I think I'm about, like, ninety-eight decimals too loud for the library, Beatrice."

                "Decibels."

                "That's what I said?"

                "No, you--decibels measure volume. Decimals are, like... fractions."

                "So you don't think I'd be good at the Dewey Decibel System, is what you're saying?"

                "...Now you're doing it on purpose," Bea muttered, and Mae cracked open an eye just to grin as she saw her girlfriend squinting at her.

                "Maaaybe," she drawled, cackling when Beatrice untangled their fingers just to reach over and give her a light smack on the arm.

                "You are the literal worst," Beatrice grumbled in reply, shaking her head as she focused on the road again. "Can't believe I have to put up with this blatant disrespect for, like, twenty more hours."

                "You know you love it."

                Beatrice leveled her with a brief, flat stare, and Mae cracked up laughing once again--especially when she saw the faint flicker of a smile cross her girlfriend's lips.

                She had been right. The two of them could weather just about anything, so long as they were together. Even if Mae's world still shattered into shapes around the edges, and even if she floundered because of her jerk-ass brain not letting her Adult properly... Beatrice would still be there, helping her to fit the pieces back together and make sense of it all. She let out a soft sigh, watching the way Beatrice seemed so at ease at the wheel of the car, and found herself wondering how in the hell she had wound up so lucky.

                "...Is your dad gonna be okay?" She asked, the thought popping into her head as her mind irreparably wandered back to all they were leaving behind.

                "Oh, yeah. The insurance is paying out big-time. Apparently, that particular sinkhole was partially a city issue--something about rotten pipes. I think he's planning on retiring, maybe getting a part-time job just to stay busy. He used to weld. Maybe he'll get back into that," Beatrice explained, shrugging slightly.

                "He pissed that we're leaving?" She left the together unsaid. There was still some tension there, even with as much as Mr. Santello had been making an effort to get used to the idea.

                "Eh. A little bit, but he's pissed about everything that changes. He'll get over it. I promised him I'd at least come home for Longest Night this year."

                Mae nodded to herself, a sudden thrill running through her at the idea of holidays with Beatrice. Together. In their own apartment. Warmth bubbled up inside her chest, and Mae grinned to herself as she looked out the window.

                "We're gonna decorate the shit out of our apartment for Harfest."

                "Hell yeah," Beatrice agreed, grinning. "Spookiest apartment on the block."

                "On the block? In the whole damn city!"

                Beatrice laughed.

                "Okay, that may be taking it a little bit far. We're not that rich."

                "We can improvise, Beatrice. Little napkin ghosties. Cardboard spiders," Mae enthused, gesturing with her hands to demonstrate each new example she thought of.

                Sure, they were leaving a lot behind. Their parents, their friends, all of the memories--good and bad... But there was so much more waiting for them, just on the other side. New holiday traditions. Failing spectacularly at cooking a thing and pretending it was totally intentional while throwing it quietly away and making pancakes instead. Throwing little parties and inviting Gregg and Angus over. Decorating however they wanted, with whatever they wanted. Hell, it could be Harfest year-round in their space, and no one could tell them a goddamn thing about it.

                The more Mae thought of the future, now, the less it filled her with dread. Now, all she could think of was how excited her parents were going to be when they saw how awesome the apartment was, how happy Bea was now that she was in her element--how well the two of them worked together, away from the crippling aura of Possum Springs.

                It was going to be an adventure, and there was no one she would rather go on a lifetime adventure with than Beatrice Goddamn Santello.

                She leaned over, resting her head on Bea's shoulder with a happy sigh.

                Beatrice quirked a brow at her, though her lips twitched upward in amusement.

                "Suddenly suffering from an intense gravity well?"

                "Nah... I just love you, that's all," Mae replied, letting her eyes slide shut as the last of her worry drained out of the marrow of her bones.

                She could feel Beatrice's smile in the way her lips pressed against the top of her head.

                "I love you, too, you weirdo."

                That was all that mattered, in the end. She loved Beatrice, and Beatrice loved her back. Whatever came, no matter how shitty or laden with terrible eldritch monstrosities living in gaping holes in the historic infrastructure of the town, the two of them would stand their ground together and work it out.

                They always did.

Chapter Text

                It had been nearly two years since Mae uprooted her entire life to go with Beatrice halfway across the country to attend the college of her dreams. Two years since they had escaped the pull of Possum Springs, two years since they had ‘killed’ the Black Goat… It felt like a lifetime that they had been together. Mae supposed that wasn’t entirely wrong; save for a blip of a few years between middle school and her ill-fated first trip to college, MaeBea had been a thing. Well… not that kind of thing. Obviously, it was now, but it wasn’t…

                She grinned to herself, kicking her feet as they dangled in the air over the rumbling floor of the bus. Her faint reflection smiled back at her, nightmare eyes with a mischievous Cheshire gleam as the skyscrapers whizzed past in a blur. Things still weren’t perfect—she was pretty sure they never would be, because she and Beatrice were definitely not perfect people—but they were good. Sometimes they argued. Beatrice would come home late from her classes, hands instinctively searching for the pack of cigarettes that was no longer around, and snap at Mae for saying something stupid. Or, other times, Mae would fall into a strange sort of paranoid depression and hole herself up in the apartment somewhere until Beatrice finally managed to coax her back out with food and movie night.

                No, it wasn’t perfect. But it was home. They had learned to live with each other’s weirdness. That was the strangest part: they had learned to live, somehow—in spite of Possum Springs and its vague aura of death and decay.

                 Beatrice was rocking her classes, naturally. Somehow, she had managed to keep a 4.0, even with all the stress. She was even thinking of going to law school at some point—and Mae wasn’t sure whether she should be excited or terrified about that. Beatrice Santello with a firm grasp of the law and rocking a power suit was a dangerous image in more ways than one.

                Mae bit her lip as she fidgeted in her seat a little bit, glancing up at the next station that kept flashing in the bright orange display near the front of the bus. Public transportation was hella rad—and hella weird sometimes—but also hella slow when she just wanted to get somewhere, damn it. Thankfully, she had time. Wasn’t like she had a job to get to or anything. She and Beatrice still argued about that a little bit, but the podcast she had started up with Gregg had actually started earning them both a decent flow of pocket change, especially when they made special episodes with recordings from their shitty little band once a year or so. It was mostly about paranormal shit and urban legends, but sometimes she and Gregg just started telling stories, riffing off one another—and people were actually into it, to her amazement.

                Beatrice didn’t know exactly how much she was earning from that and her other side projects and odd jobs that she took here and there. Mae had been stashing and saving, putting money away in a little account she had opened while stashing cash here and there in little hidey-holes around the apartment. Today, all that cash—plus quite a bit more she had grabbed from the ATM—was burning a hole in her pocket. She irritably flicked her gaze up to the bus sign again. Three more stops.

                “Ohhhh my God, this is the slowest bus on the planet,” she grumbled under her breath, flopping against the window and resuming the irritable kicking of her legs with renewed fervor.

                 She had been considering taking some classes at the local community college, herself. Mostly, she was interested in getting some certifications that could earn her a little more money in the long run, but some of the other classes just sounded like fun. Full-time college was still… intimidating, to say the least. Half-time was maybe doable. But for now, well… she had a few expenses she wanted to take care of. She could worry about college later.

                Beatrice rubbed her face as she headed out of the crowded lecture hall, her black-clad form standing out against the sea of other students—most of whom were at least three years younger than she was. She allowed herself to drift on the human current for awhile before peeling off to the side of the building, where a few kids stood around vaping and talking about the professor.

                She rolled her eyes as she leaned against the wall and watched them for a moment, some ache somewhere deep inside of her begging her to ask if she could maybe bum a smoke from any of them—but she doubted any of these kids had ever touched a real cigarette in their lives. After lingering a few moments, staring wistfully at the smoke that curled up from their nostrils, Beatrice sighed and turned to head toward the library. Even without cigarettes, she’d been doing well enough. Some of the classes were an absolute drag, and she didn’t fully understand why someone who was planning on going into law or sociology or whatever needed to take science classes—statistics she could understand, but taking chemistry again was a goddamned nightmare—but she was actually… enjoying herself. Even her job at the library was fun compared to working at the Pickaxe and having to drive out to rescue workers inadvertently trapped in Mrs. Miranda’s basement. Again. For the third time in a week.

                She took a deep breath to steady herself as flashbacks came pouring in, then slowly breathed them all right back out again. No more thinking about Possum Springs. It was finally time to think about the future instead of staying permanently trapped in the past.

                The library was mostly empty, though she knew that the evening rush would be in before too much longer. Amy, her coworker, was already behind the front desk with her nose very nearly pressed against her phone. Beatrice rolled her eyes, setting her stuff down in the little cubby-hole that belonged to her before flopping down into her usual seat.

                “Catching up on all the hot gossip?”

                “Oh, totes. This one girl is totally freaking out about finals. Freshman, I think.”

                “Sorority sister?” Bea asked, quirking a brow.

                “Why else would I be talking to a freshman? Poor baby. She’ll learn.”

                Beatrice chuckled, idly leaning her head in her hand as she glanced around at the few half-awake students lingering around the study cubicles. Never in her life would she have imagined she’d be making friends with a sorority girl—and yet, here she was. In fact, Amy was probably her closest friend at the school. It was amazing what spending four hours a day trapped at a desk or shelving books with someone could do.

                “Sooo… Any big plans for tonight?”

                Beatrice blinked, letting her gaze slide over to Amy. For once, the blonde’s full attention was on her, and she had a smile from ear-to-ear. Oh, God. She remembered. They had had a stupid little drinking game after work one time, when Mae had been doing a thing with Gregg online or whatever, and she had somehow managed to get completely wasted and reveal all sorts of things that were never meant to be spoken to human ears. Her face flushed, and she drew herself upright in her chair and scowled at the other girl.

                “That was meant to be private.”

                “I haven’t told anyone,” the girl whined, putting on her best ‘offended’ face. “What kind of monster do you think I am? Besides… I think it’s really sweet.”

                Beatrice rolled her eyes, rubbing her face as she slowly slouched at the desk again.

                “Ugh… God, I don’t know. I’m probably never going to actually do it.”

                “What? Beatrice Santello, a coward?”

                “I’m not a coward, I just—”

                “Just do the damn thing, Santello. What’s there to lose?”

                Bea grimaced, leaning back in her chair and letting it spin back and forth as she stared up at the ceiling in dismay. What was there to lose? Everything. Absolutely everything. Everything she had worked for, everything she had left behind… She had already taken a huge risk, coming here in the first place—how much more could she afford to risk before life finally turned and bit her in the ass again?

                “I don’t know.”

                “You should take a picture when you do,” Amy jibed, grinning at her like a goddamned Jack-o-Lantern.

                “What, so you can spread it all over the school?”

                “I would never… without waiting a week. Ish.”

                Beatrice finally let out a little laugh, then rolled her eyes and got up to move over to the ‘return’ pile that needed shelving.

                “I’m going to go put these back before your bad influence corrupts me any further.”

                “Nooo! Don’t leave me here all alone! Make Kevin do it—that’s what he gets for coming in late.”

                She paused, considering the pile for a moment.

                “I’ve got that vampire show you like on my pho-one…” Amy taunted, waggling her phone in Bea’s general direction.

                That was enough to sway her. With a shrug, Beatrice returned to her seat and flopped back down, sliding up to rest her elbows on the desk.

                “That’s fair. Last one in gets to shelve the stacks.”

                “Yeah! Fuck Kevin!” Amy half-shouted—only to promptly turn a brilliant shade of scarlet when Kevin himself walked through the library doors just then, mouth gaping as he shot a glare their way. Beatrice traded looks with her friend, and the two of them cracked up laughing behind the desk—as quietly as they could—while Kevin huffily moved to start loading up a cart for re-shelving.

                Mae wound up back at the apartment much later than she had initially anticipated; it was already dusk by the time she jostled open the door, brushing her way past some little napkin ghosties that she had hung a few days ago. The entire flat was decked out in Harfest finery—fake pumpkins and spiders from the dollar store, purple and orange lights they had splurged on, cobwebs everywhere… and, of course, the little napkin ghosts she had Beatrice had made last weekend. It was amazing what one could do with some napkins, a black marker, and a few rubber bands could do, really.

                She ducked under a low-hanging shitty cobweb that had been drooping despite their best efforts to get it to stay the hell up over the door, then squinted as she adjusted her hold on the little bag hidden beneath her coat. Beatrice wasn’t home yet; her shift must have run long at the library.

                Mae pouted a little, then shrugged to herself and bounded over to the bedroom, searching for the perfect hidey-hole. Eventually, she settled on a hollow space behind some books on the overflowing bookshelf; Beatrice hadn’t touched those textbooks in months. Her secret would be safe.

                As she settled herself on the bed with her laptop to wait for Bea, a message popped up from Gregg.

                hey duder! did you get the thing huh did you

                I got the thing!!! I’m freaking out a little bit tbh

                OMG OMG OMG she’s gonna freak

                I know right!!!!!!

                It’s gonna be so good gurl

                Gurl I hope so

                It is! man, I wish I could be there for it :( but I got work :((((

                Someday, we’ll be Podcast Masters and no longer serve our corporate overlords

                You don’t even have a corporate overlord!!

                Ok maybe not but!

                I get u gurl

                Before she had a chance to respond again, the front door jostled open—damn thing always stuck funny in the frame—and she jumped to slam her laptop shut. Bea let out a heavy sigh from the main room as she dropped her things onto the couch as usual, bag landing with a thud even in the relatively soft cushions. Mae scrambled up, scurrying out of the room and immediately launching herself onto Beatrice for a hug.

                “Oof,” Bea grunted, stumbling a bit before laughing a little and wrapping her arms around Mae in turn. “Is this going to be an every night thing now?”

                “It might be,” Mae replied, grinning up at her girlfriend.

                “Well… at least that gives me some warning, I guess. Did you figure out what you wanted for dinner?”

                “Uhhh… no. I got kinda distracted. We could order takeout?”

                Beatrice nodded absently, bringing her fingers up to smooth the wild red tips of Mae’s hair.

                “Pizza or Chinese?”

                “Pizza! That Chinese place sucks,” Mae grumbled, pressing her ears back a bit. “Their fried rice doesn’t even have anything in it. It’s just boring-ass yellowish rice.”

                “True,” Beatrice said, laughing. “Pizza it is. I’ll call Pizza Palazzo. They’ve got damn good crust.”

                “Hell yeah. Can we get extra cheese?”

                “We’re going to get all the cheese. In the entire restaurant.”

                “Bad day at college?” Mae asked, tilting her head to one side.

                “Eh. Just… long. Thursdays just suck because of chem lab. I still don’t know why they’re making me take all these basic classes when I’m not going to be using them, but whatever,” Beatrice grumbled. She hesitated a moment, then pulled away from Mae to stretch languidly and head for the bathroom. “Gonna clean up real quick, then I’ll put in the call.”

                Mae nodded, watching her go as her thoughts danced around the little bag she had hidden on the bookshelf. Beatrice had been so stressed, lately—not the same kind of stressed she’d been at the Pickaxe with her dad, but… still. She wanted to do so much more for her, even just help her with her work or something, but it was all so far over her head that she’d given up on that halfway through the first year.

                They only had each other out here. Mae wanted that to really mean something.

                As she heard the sink running, she darted into the bedroom and dug out the little bag, pulling the box out of the bag and shoving the tiny thing deep into her pockets. Her heart fluttered a little; what would Bea think about all this? They had talked about trying to save money, about living within their means as rent came in and expenses snowballed together—and this hadn’t exactly been a cheap purchase. But, well, weren’t some things worth splurging on? She looked at the twinkling orange and purple lights strung around their apartment and grinned, moving to flip the switch on the cheap-ass jack-o-lantern they had bought.

                Some things were definitely worth the cost.

                Still… there was doubt. Even after two years together, relying only on one another, there was still so much doubt. It was like she had taken a shard of the Black Goat with her, its horrible song licking at the corners of her mind. She’ll hate you for this. You wasted your time and you wasted your money. She won’t even like it. You would have been better off just staying back in Possum Springs. You’re only going to drag her down with you.

                Mae closed her eyes, taking a deep breath and counting—four in, four hold, four out—as Beatrice had taught her. The world that was beginning to fragment itself slowly pulled itself back together, and the voice dulled to a low rumble at the back of her thoughts. Her hands still trembled as she raked them through her hair, but it was under control. Mostly.

                “Mae? You all right?”

                Mae jumped, turning to look at her girlfriend as she stood holding her phone by the couch, brow quirked.

                “I—yeah. Just… overthinking things. Catas… Cat-afro…”

                “Catastrophizing?”

                “Yeah. That thing.”

                “About what?”

                “Uhhh… nothing, it’s cool. Probably just hungry,” she said, forcing a bright smile.

                “If you need to talk about it—”

                “Nothing pizza can’t solve!”

                Beatrice hesitated a moment, eyes narrowing slightly, before letting out a soft sigh and shrugging as she dialed the number.

                “Anything other than cheese?”

                “Sausage and mushrooms and onions and…”

                “The works?” Beatrice asked, grinning.

                “No bell peppers, those things are gross.”

                “They’re not that bad… Oh, yes, hello,” Bea said, her customer service voice rising from the dead as soon as the person on the other end picked up. Mae watched the change with fascination as she settled down on the couch, the little box in her pocket seeming to weigh a hundred pounds now.

                “Yes, one large supreme, no bell peppers. Yeah. Oh—that sounds higher than it was last time? Did you guys raise your—oh. Yeah, no, I get it. Cash on delivery okay? Uh-huh. Okay, great. Thanks.”

                Beatrice sighed as she hung up the phone, then stuffed it into her pocket as she sank down on the couch next to her girlfriend.

                “Twenty dollars for a large supreme,” she said, grimacing.

                “What? That’s crazy! Last time it was, like, fifteen!”

                “Yeah… something about the franchise having to cover costs on drivers and all that. It’s only five bucks, but…”

                Mae nodded, letting out a sigh as she leaned over to rest her head on Bea’s shoulder. That little nagging voice built up again; See? Just wasting money. Five dollars less than you should’ve had, and how much did your little indulgence cost you?

                “Shut up,” Mae muttered under her breath, closing her eyes tight.

                Bea said nothing, only curling an arm around her shoulders and holding her close as she reached over to turn on the TV. Garbo & Malloy had just come on, and Mae felt herself slowly relax into the comfort of the familiar.

                “…You sure you don’t need to talk about it?” Beatrice asked after a few minutes of mindless TV, glancing down at Mae with concern written across her face.

                “Yeah, I…” I don’t want to spoil the surprise, Bea, jeez! “I’m okay. It just happens, sometimes. Anything fun happen at work?”

                “Hm? Oh—yeah, Kevin wound up coming in late, again, and…” She lost herself in the storytelling, becoming more expressive than Mae ever remembered her being back in Possum Springs: she gesticulated, laughed, made all sorts of interesting expressions… This was so much more like the Beatrice Santello she remembered from when she was an eleven-year-old with a desperate crush.

                Mae listened, nodding and laughing at the right places as she snuggled against Bea’s side. Kevin stories were always good; the dude was a grade-A flake and completely self-absorbed asshole. He had come from some rich-people town not far from the college, and had only gotten in as a legacy (at least, that was the reigning theory).

                Before they knew it, the pizza man was ringing the bell, and they both scrambled up to pay the man, grab the pizza, and start portioning out their slices. They traded packets of parmesan and red pepper flakes in amiable silence, bumping into one another every so often in the small, cramped space of the kitchen. Something about the simple domesticity of it all, mingled with the warm glow of Harfest lights and decorations, made Mae’s heart swell. This was it. This was everything they had been working for. It wasn’t about having a million dollars and a nice house. It wasn’t about not having to work or going to some fancy college on a free ride. It wasn’t about road trips or grand gestures.

                It was about living—about being together, supporting one another, eating pizza together… It was Garbo & Malloy, hand-made Harfest decorations, laughing at another Kevin story, encouraging one another—all the little things that added up to make a life.

                Their hands brushed as they reached for the same slice of pizza, and Mae blinked up at Beatrice, her eyes dewy. Beatrice quirked a brow, though Mae could see the faintest hint of pink on her girlfriend’s cheeks.

                “What?”

                Mae shook her head, grinning.

                “Nothin’. I love you, is all.”

                “I love you too, you weirdo,” Bea replied, though her voice dripped with affection as she took the first bite of her pizza standing at the counter. “Mm. This pizza isn’t half-bad, either.”

                The two of them locked eyes, and both of them broke out into laughter.

                “Pizza all the way up,” Mae shouted, imitating Gregg’s high-pitched yelp.

                For a moment, the two of them ate in the kitchen, leaning against the counter rather than retreating to the sofa as was their wont. Something felt electric in the air—maybe it was the Harfest decorations, or the brisk smell of cold on the evening air that blew in through their drafty apartment—but neither of them spoke much beyond idle commentary on the pizza itself.

                Then, all at once, Beatrice pushed off of the counter, stuffing the rest of her crust into her mouth before raising a hand and gesturing to Mae.

                “Mm—I, uh… I got you something,” she said, swallowing her mouthful of food.

                “Huh? Really?” Mae asked, suddenly feeling the weight of the box in her pocket once more.

                “Uh-huh. Hold on,” Beatrice replied, turning to head into the bedroom.

                Mae’s heart beat double-time in her chest as she dug her fingers into her pocket, turning toward the little window of their apartment with her back to the bedroom. Something told her it was now or never. She had to do it now, or she’d lose the nerve forever, and her little indulgence would sit collecting dust at the back of the bookshelf until the two of them finally moved again. She fiddled with the black velvet of the hinged box, taking a few deep breaths as the world threatened to break out into shapes—but fear was balanced by excitement and hope. There were fragments, but each of them glowed like the eyes and smiling mouth of their cheesy little jack-o-lantern.

                Beatrice came back, and Mae turned around, holding the box behind her back. She noted, with another skipped beat of her heart, that Bea also had her hands behind her back—and looked nervous.

                “Okay, so,” Beatrice began, sucking in a quick breath before letting it out again as her cheeks grew darker. “Like I said, I, uh… I got you something.”

                “Y-Yeah, well… I got you something, too,” Mae replied, her smile wobbling with trepidation and the sheer manic thrill of it all.

                The two of them stared at one another, words falling away to an awkward silence. Neither of them seemed to be able to move, to breathe—they just stood there, Garbo & Malloy yammering in the background as the little napkin ghosties danced in the draft.

                Do it. Don’t do it. Go for it—you’ll never know until—but what if she—I wish Gregg were here—this is stupid—you’re stupid—why even bother, it’s only going to end up like—but what if—but what if…

                At the same time, both of them produced a small, black velvet box with a hinged lid. At the same time, both of them blinked at the other, eyes widening. At the same time, they popped the lids open as the same slow, broad smiles crept over their faces. Two rings glittered in two separate boxes: one made of black gold inlaid with classic white stones, and one a silver band with a red stone surrounded by others that seemed to glow with a hundred different colors at once.

                “Are you fucking kidding me?” Mae yelled, breaking out into wild, cackling laughter.

                Beatrice was laughing, too, and the two of them found themselves leaning on one another for support as a thousand emotions played themselves out at once. Finally, exhausted and with aching ribs, Mae turned to beam a smile at Beatrice as she offered her the black-gold ring.

                “So… this is for you.”

                “Aaand this is yours,” Beatrice replied, the two of them trading boxes as smiles remained trapped on their faces.

                The fit was perfect, Mae thought as she nestled herself into her girlfriend’s side and watched the way the stones on her new ring dazzled in the crappy little Harfest lights.

                “You wanna get married, BeaBea?”

                “Well, I mean… Kinda blew most of my cash on this, and college is an absolute bitch right now, but… eventually, yeah, I think so,” she replied, and Mae couldn’t help but grin as she saw the blush creeping over Beatrice’s face.

                “You liiiiiike me,” she teased, drawing out the word as she leaned up closer.

                “Ugh, not this again,” Beatrice complained, though she couldn’t help but smile. “We’ve been living together for, like, almost two years.”

                “You wanna maaaaaarry me…”

                “Oh, my God, shut up,” Beatrice laughed, leaning in to capture her lips in a kiss. Mae curled her arms around her neck, drawing her girlfriend closer as the jack-o-lantern and napkin ghosties smiled at them from around the little flat. Even the plastic spiders seemed happy for them.

                Sometimes, you screamed into the void. Sometimes, the void came alive, formed itself into an eldritch monstrosity, and seeped into all the nooks and crannies of your brain before you killed it, once and for all, in what might have been nothing more than a gas-leak fever dream outside of some crumbling mine where hundreds of people had died.

                But sometimes, someone else screamed back, and you found one another in the darkness. You helped one another find the light, dug yourselves out of the muck and the mire, and learned to live together in a world that neither of you fully understood. You learned to hold on to the little things, because at the end of everything, all you needed was to hold on to anything that mattered—before you lost it forever.

                What mattered was Beatrice Santello. What mattered was Margaret Borowski.

                What mattered was love, and now that they had found it, they would never let it go.