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Lucretia didn’t come back from (Wonderland) wherever she was for a while.
It scared Davenport, because she said she would be back in two days and he was pretty sure it had already been three days or maybe four, and he had already stress-cleaned the whole ship multiple times. He wished she told him where she went all the time - wished she would take him - because every time he went to the door of the ship, determined that he could leave and navigate the world and find her, a sense of hopelessness and fear overcame him, and his legs froze in place, and he stood there and worried until he dragged himself back inside.
So he waited, and he waited, until one day he saw a figure approaching the ship and he peered through the window, wondering if it was her finally coming back but the woman that approached seemed so much older than he knew Lucretia was, so he waited one more day, and then another, and then the same figure knocked on the door.
She knocked on the door and said “Davenport, it’s me,” and he peered through the window wondering whether to believe her, and then she knocked again, not seeing him, and called “Davenport, please, I promise it’s me,” and then she waited a few minutes before knocking again, this time saying “I’m Lucretia, your friend,” and then she sat down and leaned against the door, and Davenport couldn’t see well from that window but the moment she buried her face in her hands he couldn’t help but go open it, and tap her shoulder like she did to him whenever he cried, and she just stayed there and her breathing heavy, and all she said was “Davenport, I am so, so sorry…”
So he sat there next to her, at the edge of the doorway, and let her cry. And then, when she calmed down, she lifted her face out of her arms and Davenport traced the wrinkles around her eyes and tried as hard as he could to ask about it, ask how it could happen, but she laughed a little - the sad kind of laugh - and said “Yeah, I’m older now.”
It was later that day - after they worked to patch her wounds and she stood up to go inside - did Davenport tug on her shirt, getting her attention. But when she asked what he needed, instead of trying to ask again, he took her hand and led her to the kitchen and opened the fridge, and she saw that it was empty, and she felt her heart sink, successfully getting her to cry again.
~
Lucretia could never tell him much about (Wonderland) where she went that day.
It wasn’t like the static, where she told him and he couldn’t hear it, but it came up later, when he sat in front of the relic map for hours, or when she let him read her journal, to see how much static there was or to catch her spelling mistakes, and he’d point it out, and the first couple times he did, she would drift off into her own world, thinking about things so scary she started to tremble, but as soon as he got worried she’d shake her head and say “I’m sorry for leaving you that day, Davenport.’
And he shrugged, and occasionally made out an “O-okay,” but then she’d try more. Tell him one more way that it hurt her, a little piece each time - it made her older, gave her hearing loss, took away a journal of hers and a spell she learned from an old friend - or how she only played checkers nowadays. And every time she’d say something, every time she’d force a memory out, he couldn’t help but smile, couldn’t help but take her hand and cheer using whatever words he had, because he understood what it was like not to be able to say things. But the moment would always pass quickly and then she’d zone out again, rub one of the scars on her arms, and switch into static: “To think, if we’d start a new cycle, then I wouldn’t have all of these.”
~
It was in the back of Lucretia’s office, when she was explaining it to Taako, Magnus, and Merle, that Davenport heard the full story.
She had prepared it, rehearsed it multiple times, told Davenport to bring her back to reality if anything happens, but stay out of sight, and he did, but then she told it all and stayed perfectly fine. She told them things even he didn’t know and probably would never hear otherwise, things that weren’t in the script, told them in full sentences and showed them the portrait and the flyer and talked about the place and all the research she did on it. And he wondered how she did it: wondered if it was because they were in the room, and she wished she could tell them more than she did, wondered if it was easier to talk with people who could answer, wondered if it was just time that made the story easier to tell, wondered if him being there helped at all. He stayed behind her desk and thought about it, for a bit, staring at the flyer for Wonderland that she had handed to him once they left, focusing on the colors, but then she tapped his shoulder. “Davenport?”
She took the flyer back, put him on her lap, and then pulled out his wand and told him to try waving it in front of the portrait. When he did, it turned not back to its original, older Lucretia look, but into a square of static in which he could barely make out her smiling face. And she looked at it, and he saw the soft smile on her face, and told him, “Soon enough, I’m going to have to tell them about this.”
“Static?”
She nodded. “You’re still the only one who knows.” She laughed - a sad one, this time. “I lost all of you - everyone in that picture - less than a year before I left for Wonderland. You’d think I’d take a year off before hurting myself again.”
Davenport turned around to face her.
“I’m still so worried about them.” She sighed. “Maybe I shouldn’t have done this.”
Davenport shook his head. “I-“
“What is it?”
“I-” He shook his head again, more furiously this time, and sighed.
“You….” She thought about it. “I know you’re disagreeing with me.”
He nodded.
“You trust them, then. You think they can do it.”
He nodded again, and she sighed.
“You’re right - I don’t have much of a choice but to do so anyway.” She laughed. “This is it, that’s the last relic.”
“A-and then?”
“Then I’ll tell you everything. Okay?”
“Okay.”
~
“Lucretia?”
“Yes?” She swiveled around to face him - she staring at the portrait of the Starblaster crew - and couldn’t help but smile softly as she saw who it was, even though he had spent the last month or so mostly angry at her.
“Um.” Davenport laughed awkwardly. “I-I just wanted to tell you I was leaving - the new ship’s waiting for me at the harbor.”
“Oh.” Her smile faded. “Is this goodbye, then?”
“For now.” He looked up at the portrait too, then - looked at the smile on his face - and then, without averting his gaze, spoke again. “Did I really help you?”
She jumped a little, in her seat. “When?”
“For that whole decade in general.” He seemed lost in thought. “I always… loved it. When you ranted. I thought my listening made you feel better.”
She laughed, then; a genuine one, one that Davenport hadn’t heard for a while. “It did.”
“I’m glad I was at least somewhat useful, then.”
“Don’t sell yourself short.” She sighed. “All I had was you, at first. After Wonderland.”
“The one thing you never told me about.”
“More like the one story you taught me to tell. Taking every word step by step is what enabled me to share it.” She sighed. “I wouldn’t have been able to send them to Wonderland without you, you know.”
He took his eyes off the portrait and looked at her.
“Thank you. I really mean it.”
“Okay.” He dismissed a call from his stone of Farspeech, and then sighed. “I should go.”
She nodded. “If you ever feel like I owe you some listening…”
“I know who to call.” He laughed, and waved. “I’ll see you on the flip side.”