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eight.
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“—eh?”
Something was there in the edges of her peripheral sight when Emma vaulted over a particularly large root. Something fleshy-coloured. Something decidedly not there the last time she hid in this particular part of the forest.
Booted feet faltering, the eight-year-old girl spins on her heels to take a look at what it is.
Ray’s beady eyes meet hers, and Emma could only process that he’s in her face with the largest gash bleeding in his chest before she’s screaming loud and frightened. No sound came though, because when Emma returns back from the white flash of shock, there’s a leathery gloved hand clasped firmly over her mouth.
It’s Ray’s face which peers down at her, years older than the one she’s used to. And it’s a brother’s unfamiliar hand which keeps her gently in place.
Emma’s practically asphyxiating when older Ray leans in, eyes dagger-sharp and voice rumbling low.
“Don’t scream, Idiot. You’re going to alert the whole house to my presence.”
Emma’s eyes are watery, but she glares back, planting a tumultuous kick on his thigh that has him hissing. She shakes her head, looking down at his wound pointedly.
Older Ray seems exasperated.
“Hah. Figures you’d be the same even here in this time period. I’m fine. It’s not such a big deal. Now, will you promise to be quiet if I let you go?”
Emma rolls her eyes. She dips her head and waves her hands to show she doesn’t have any fingers crossed.
Ray huffs and releases her. He drops back onto his bum the instant she’s free, breaths scarily light with effort. (Who’s the idiot now?)
“R-Ray.” Her voice trembles. She forces the fear out of her voice. “You’re Ray, aren’t you?” Emma glares down at the man. “An older version of Ray from the future?”
“Gee. Thanks for your concern over my wellbeing. I’m well and dandy, thank you.” Ray snarks. That’s as good an answer as any.
Emma kneels down beside him.
“Why are you here alone? Are the adult versions of me and Norman here as well? And why didn’t you go straight to the house so Mama could treat you? Y-You’re… You’re practically bleeding out!”
Emma scrambles forward and is met with a bodily retreat from the man. The eight-year-old peers down at him incredulously. Yup. Sure enough. This is the aged-up version of her Ray with a personality that’s a hundred times worse than a stray cat.
“The last thing anyone wants,” Older Ray hisses, eyes flashing menacingly. “Is for Mama to find out about me here. Wash your boots before you return to the house. And don’t get any of this blood on your clothes.”
“What are you saying?” Her head spins with confusion. “You’re talking as if Mama did something bad!”
“That person,” Ray spits, glaring up at her. “Is not someone I trust. Just leave it at that, will you? Doofas.”
Oh, she’s mad! She’d be mad enough to pull at Ray’s stupid long hair now and gnaw on it, if he isn’t in such a broken state right now. All this stuff he’s saying about Mama and trust and that name-calling… Is this the so-called rebellious stage she’s heard kids in puberty go through? How old is this version of Ray anyways? She doesn’t have a good gauge, with the only adult here being Mama.
(No. Focus, Emma. She needs to find something to use to treat Ray, if not to convince him back to the house. He’s bleeding out at her feet.)
“Emma!” Comes a distant cry.
It’s Norman, who’s jogging through the forest towards her.
That usually pleasant smile falters at the sight of the man behind the trees. Ray curses under his breath, and Emma whacks him over the head for that. Norman cocks his head at the gesture between Emma and – from his angle, what must seem to be – a stranger in Grace Field. Neither of them has ever thought it’d be possible for there to exist others besides them on this land, much less a time travelling Ray.
Close up, blue eyes flicker from the blood on Emma’s waterproofed shoes to the blood blooming in the man’s coat to Ray’s surprisingly sharp face with dark eyebags.
Norman manages a strained smile.
“It’s not time for tag, I take it?”
“Listen to me, Norman! Ray’s a HUGE idiot! And he doesn’t want to go back to the house even though he’s gonna die out here—” Emma’s abruptly interrupted by Ray.
“I’m from the year 2052, where the promise between the human and demon worlds has been receded and war has broken out.” He recites, eyes fixed on both of them, Norman in particular. “And I’ve come back in time to establish a human sovereign state within the demon’s world.”
Emma gawps, jaw hanging slackened. Norman’s blue eyes sharpen instantly, brain racing into overdrive as he always does during chess with Mama. (That’s about the only thing that manages to bring such a look to his face.) As he puts together whatever pieces he gets from that, Emma thinks. 2052… that’s 10 years from now, isn’t it? And a war broke out? Between demons and humans?
She sits a hand on Ray’s shoulder, looking him dubiously in the eye.
“See? Delusions are the first sign that blood loss is getting to you. Are you okay, Ray?”
“See?” Ray quips. “This is exactly why I didn’t want to tell you.”
“What was that?!” Emma shakes him by the shoulders.
He’s eighteen, more than twice her age. And he’s still the same old Ray (She’d be lying if that doesn’t make her lips curl up the tiniest bit). Ray scoffs down at her hand, not minding it so long as it doesn’t get any blood on her.
“Also, to answer your question just now, my Emma and Norman are somewhere in this world too, along with a few other members of our family. We got separated in the process of time travelling. And look at this sorry state I ended up in because of my weakness.” The side of his lip twitches, irked, as he looks down at his bloody core again.
Emma would whack him a new one over the head for thinking that he, of all people, is weak. (No one insults her siblings and gets away with it. Not even said siblings themselves.)
“…Ray. If that’s truly you.” Norman begins carefully. Ray peers up at him, quietly listening despite his doubt. Emma can’t blame Norman. She has never heard Ray talk about family so openly either. (He’s always been too shy.) “If what you’re saying about demons and humans is real, whose side would you say Mama is on? And what is this place meant to be?”
Oh, c’mon! He isn’t really believing that whole thing about demons, is he?
Trembling fingers find their way to hers, and suddenly, Emma has one shaking Norman in her grasp, his blue eyes focused but wide as he bores down at Older Ray. It occurs to Emma then, how Norman has never been wrong about his deductions, how the easy chemistry between the two boys in her year has always been built upon similar wavelengths and quick witty thinking. If anyone can tell Ray is lying, it’d be Norman. And that same Norman believes Ray’s unbelievable words.
In a blink of an eye, everything Emma has ever known is put into question.
“T…That can’t be right…” Emma lifts her free hand to her mouth, horror-struck. “Then… what about our siblings who were adopted…? What happened to them…? …And…What’s outside the gates?” Those uncertainties have always lingered at the back of her mind.
(They’ve… all got good parents, right? But if Ray from the future who’s older than twelve returned in this shape… what does that say about the outside world?)
Sombre eyes trail from one child to another. Older Ray looks down, hands lifting only to falter when he remembers they’re wearing white. He settles for looking them in the eyes as he answers.
“It’s as you suspected, Norman. Isabella’s on the demons’ side and the children who’ve been leaving were………”
Ray grimaces.
Emma feels like the world has been dragged out from underneath her.
“Emma!” Norman catches her with both arms before she kneels in the mess of Ray’s blood.
She’s numb. (That can’t be true………right?)
“But,” Ray states, eyes gleaming with determination. “We’ll definitely do something about it. Emma. Norman. Don. Gilda. And the rest, too. We’ll do all that’s possible within our abilities to save you guys from this place. So calm down.”
Norman lifts Emma for barely a fraction of a second to put her in a place safer for her to slink down to the ground. He, too, rests one buckling knee on the ground beside both of hers. He’s looking up at adult Ray as Ray continues.
“I’m not usually the one who makes these reckless promises. That job belongs to the both of you.” Ray cocks a lopsided smirk just slightly strained. His breathing too. Emma needs to tend to him soon, she thinks numbly. “But if there’s anything you guys have taught me in the process of escaping, it’d be to never abandon family.” Ray dips his head. He peers up at her from under his long fringe. “Right?”
Norman’s hand on her shoulder is still trembling. The world is still spinning. However, for whatever reason, it’s encouraging to hear Ray spouting words like that.
Emma takes a shuddering breath and tries to put aside thoughts of what demons do to humans. Do they torture them for laughs? Or do they gobble them up? (No, no, don’t think about it. Don’t ask, either. Not till you think you can handle it.) Compartmentalize. (How can Ray treat this like it’s normal?)
Emma quirks a weak smile up at Ray.
“When did you become such a sap in the time we weren’t looking?” She laughs airily. Maybe it’s a bit too shrill, but nobody reacts so nobody cares, right? “Our Ray is unexpectedly a man full of romance!” She throws an arm around Norman’s shoulder.
“I can’t disagree with that.” Norman dips his head in an easy chuckle.
“This situation is so many levels of ironic, I don’t even wanna waste time pointing them out.” Ray grumbles-sulks, tipping his head back to rest on the tree bark.
“Right. And so? What’s the plan now?” Norman asks, a twinkle in his eyes.
“You mean besides surviving, healing, getting the hell out of this place, and then busting back in to break everyone in Grace Field House out?” Ray eyes them, unamused. Perhaps the blood loss is getting to him after all if he thinks they’re leaving all the work to him. (Some habits just seem to be impossible to cure, it seems.)
“You know you can’t survive here without our help.” Norman informs him with a guileless smile. “There’re no animals here to hunt. No water bodies. No herbal plants.” He eyes the other’s wounds pointedly.
Ray, in turn, gives them that same unreadable stare, one which usually preludes him throwing his game of chess to allow the both of them to pick something up from his loss.
Emma speaks up before he could, looking him warningly in the eye.
“If the next word that comes out of your mouth isn’t a ‘Yes, thank you for your help’, I’m boxing you in the ear, alright?”
Ray peers down at her with one sleepy eye. His eyes linger on her ear, briefly mulling over something. The adult rolls his eyes.
“Yes, thank you very much for your help. Isn’t the time for your tag game about up?” He deadpans.
“Oh, that’s right!” Emma leaps to her feet. She gazes back down at the injury on Ray’s chest, conflicted. “But you’re still so gravely wounded…!”
“I can handle it. I’ve got some bandages here, you see?” He pulls out a wad of white cloth from his pocket. That definitely can’t be enough, but… Ray shrugs. “I’ve suffered worse. Don’t tell younger me a word about me yet. And don’t let your knowledge of the situation show through, got it?” Ray reaches a hand up and taps the side of his eyes, beady eyes trained on them. “Show your enemy what they want to see. But never anymore beyond that. Information is more than just words.” He says that, as if he’s quoting someone.
Emma nods, swallowing hard. She still can’t believe that Mama is an enemy, but… She’ll do just that!
“We’ll put the resources in our usual hiding spot by tonight.” Norman smiles serenely at the other. “You can get to that location without being noticed, right?”
Ray dips his head curtly.
“Do it a little before eight.” He tells them. Emma furrows her brows. What’s the significance of that timing…? “Isabella will be preoccupied then. Make sure one of you is with younger me at that time. Don’t let yourself be caught.”
Norman straightens, as does Emma. Green eyes rounded in disbelief. Make sure that one of them is with their Ray… the way older Ray puts it, it’s as if Ray is an enemy at this time, isn’t it…?
“Oh?” Norman cocks his head, gazing at older Ray in a new light. A new puzzle to dismantle. The edges of Norman’s lips quirk up like he usually does with every new challenge. “You’re not suggesting what we’re thinking, are you, Ray…?” He closes the distance with a step, hands folded behind him, deceptively coy.
Emma doesn’t like it. Ray isn’t their enemy at all. But… why did he say that?
“I’ll explain tomorrow.” Ray tells them briskly. “Let’s meet across the cliff at one. You’re all being tracked.”
And if everything else hasn’t been enough to bring Emma up to the edge of her nerves, that certainly has her on the brink of snapping now. The world has been thoroughly overturned in the span of the last ten minutes. She wonders if it’ll be possible for her to wake up the next day and not think that this was all a bad dream.
(She can’t go to Mama for comfort now in any case.)
-
Norman doesn’t trust this version of Ray. Perhaps it is ironic, but he places more faith in their Ray who’s supposedly a traitor than the future Ray.
The reasons are as follows:
1) Time travelling, to his knowledge of present science, is impossible. Perhaps technology in the future does enable it, but how far can it really advance in the span of a decade and a half? Or even in the span of four decades, if one compares it to the latest dated books they have. Who could say that man isn’t an imposter?
2) He has spent more time growing up with his Ray in comparison to the mere 10 minutes he spent with future Ray. Therein lays his explanation.
3) Whilst everything the older Ray’s saying fills in the gaps seamlessly, far more of it is based on first-hand experience rather than the little knowledge they know, trapped in this tiny well of a place. And honestly, what do they know that’d enable them to discern lies from truths?
No. If anything, Norman trusts his present Ray more precisely because of the future Ray’s presence.
At the very least, they know that their Ray will never harm them (however much Norman doubts him; and however much future Ray appears to think otherwise).
At the very least, they know the time they’ve spent together in this house is real. (So maybe his intellect seeks to interfere with his belief of that. But Norman genuinely wants to believe in Ray. He loves Ray as much as he does Emma, for all his flaws and sneaky personality.)
In that aspect, Emma was probably miles ahead of him. He finds himself unable to do a thing but smile when she picks up a ball and Ray’s wrist with another hand, pulling him in the direction of the forest.
“You’re all playing ball today?” Conny looks up with curious eyes.
“Eh… I wanna play with Emma today!” Phil pipes up.
Norman inclines his head apologetically, smile kept easy with the light crease of pale brows.
“Sorry, Phil. It’s been a while since the three of us last got time to ourselves.” He offers a small wave of his hand before he tracks off after the pair.
Strutting into the forest, the thoughts loom over him. Theories run rampant, even if not a thing could be done to confirm them with certainty. They need a reliable source of information, and at this point, Norman would be happy for any even at the risk of outing them.
Emma storms down the forest, grip tightening. She spins on her heels. Norman finds himself the target of wide emeralds, desperate for affirmation.
“Norman, you’re fine with this, right? We shouldn’t hide things from Ray that involve him after all! …We should let him in on the situation.”
Her grip tightens over Ray’s wrist, fingers shaking. Emma has always been the simplest one of them, intellect overruled by the depth of how much she could feel. And even if that is what makes her so endearing to Norman – and everyone else – that is her biggest weakness. (Norman prays with all his heart that that will never have to change.)
(What she needs most now though, is the knowledge that he has her back, even if her world is crumbling without Mama as its pillar.)
“I’m fine with it, Emma.” Norman quirks a reassuring smile at her, and her shoulders slump with the release of tension.
“Thank god…!” She exhales all at once. “I was wondering what I should do if you didn’t approve…!”
“What would you have done if I hadn’t, really?” Norman chuckles indulgently. Emma probably hadn’t thought of that, charging straight in with her impossible faith in her family. Blue eyes softening, he lays out the reasoning for his approval. “This is probably the best line of action in any case. Right now as we are, we can’t trust that man fully. And according to him, we shouldn’t trust Ray.”
Blue eyes flicker to Ray’s pensive face. He could see the cogs in that brilliant mind turning, even as he lays out a subtle reassurance as to how they feel about this matter.
“That man, he claimed to be protecting us, yet he refused to see Ray. There has to be some knowledge Ray holds that will foil his plans, or some way in which he is lying about his identity.” Norman smiles indulgently at the attentively nodding Emma. “To get a confirmation on his identity and thereby secure a reliable source of information. That will be our main goal for today.”
“What have you two been going on about?” Ray finally deadpans, wrist still loosely held in Emma’s grip. He’s stepping closer. His beady eyes are wary, and Norman can’t tell if they are for their sakes. “If there’s an intruder in the house, you know you should inform Mama. I shouldn’t have to point that out to you.”
So why? Is his tacit question. Beady eyes are directed straight at Norman. Why would you, of all people, put your faith in a total stranger? You’re even risking Emma like this.
…Just because Norman maintains more faith in their Ray, it doesn’t mean he completely distrusts the self-proclaimed older version, he supposes. Everything about him does scream Ray, after all, even if Ray is his own piece with his own ability to plot. The desire to trust does, to some extent, extend to the older version.
“You’ll see when you get there!” It’s Emma who jumps into Ray’s face, beaming with a smile. “Key thing is, we trust you! So, make sure to trust us too when you finally see him, alright? We’re not being mind-controlled by aliens or anything!” She scrunches up her face all weird (it’s an adorable contrast) and toddles forward with raised hands to mimic brainwashing.
“That’s a zombie, idiot.” Ray points out in a deadpan.
And Norman just lets out a laugh of unbridled delight at how simple the world is made again.
-
Older Ray doesn’t react upon seeing their Ray with them. As a matter of fact, he remains crunching on the fruit he’d gotten from somewhere (Hm? Emma buries the internal question. There’re no fruit trees around this area, were there? And she doesn’t remember packing that into the rations the day before), the most frustratingly bored expression boring out at them uncaringly. The three children come to a still beneath the tree he’s perched in. Another audible crunch punctuates the vicinity.
“Oh, sheesh! Just say something already!” Emma snaps.
The fruit’s core hits the top of her head with some force.
“I was the dumb one for forgetting how naïve you two used to be.” Older Ray leaps down from the tree, gracefully using the momentum to roll into a seating position. “Take a seat, children. I hope you learn what you’re here to learn today.” He gives an acknowledging nod towards Norman.
Norman stiffens, eyes widening lightly in shock. Emma knew he didn’t completely trust the theory of time-travelling, but it still comes as a surprise how easily Older Ray reads his old friend’s mind. Now, their Ray on the other hand………
Beady eyes trail to the last of the trio to plop themselves down around him. Unlike Emma and Norman, Ray remains standing. He’s carrying the most strained expression Emma has ever seen on him. And for some reason, Older Ray inclines his head, looking for all the world like he understands.
He parts his lips. He allows the words to leave them in a sigh.
“Isabella gave birth to you so she would survive.”
Their Ray makes a strangled sound at the back of his throat. Emma’s still not quite processing, even if her eyes grow wider as it slowly sinks in. There’s a sharp inhale from Norman by her side.
Older Ray lifts a hand in emphasis.
“Girls of Grace Field House who meet certain pre-requisites are given two options at the age of twelve: to die, or to become Mamas. All those who opt for the later are required to leave behind a single offspring. It’s believed that smarts could be passed down genetically, making the brain more delicious.” He taps the side of his head again, not unlike how he did the day before. “You can imagine what happens to those who fail the Mama tests, can’t you?”
Brains are delicious, he says… Emma gulps, holding back the urge to retch. Beside her, Norman reaches out and strokes down her back comfortingly. He remains fixated on the scene, mouth slightly parted but speechless as they watch on.
Ray… their Ray. His mouth contorts and he seems choked despite himself. The words don’t come easy. His voice is tiny.
“B-but…” His breath hitches. His words too, hitch with emotions Emma had never seen so strong in him. “…That doesn’t mean you’re—” And he cuts himself off, beady eyes turning to the two of them, desperate for unsaid reasons. Ray clenches his teeth. He glares down at the seated man. “You’re not me.” He declares. Emma hears the words tagged onto that.
Don’t wear my face to deceive my friends. Don’t hurt them with that face, with my face. Get lost. Scram.
Older Ray doesn’t avert his eyes, always straightforward in the way Ray is. And it is ironic, how Ray-like he is, even when Ray is denying it.
Without eyes ever leaving his younger self, with the first note starting off low and almost humble, Older Ray begins to hum.
The word, Shock, could only wishes it’s able to match the look on Ray’s face.
He’s haunted. He stumbles back on wobbly feet. And Older Ray stops humming the start of what’s a pretty lullaby. He leans in to prop his face up with the expense of a palm.
“…That – that doesn’t mean a thing.” Ray still tries to deny.
“Interpret it how you’d like it. The demons wouldn’t care to remember a song one of their Mamas hummed, would they? No other human knows this melody either. That’s the only logical reason for the face Isabella made when you came out to her about it.”
Ray stumbles and tumbles down on his bum, shell-shocked.
Emma doesn’t get it. (She does. Somewhat. But the swirl of information of – Ray is Mama’s biological son. Mama was from Grace Field too. Girls at twelve are given two options. That melody… what connection does it have? What does Ray know? – None of it matters in that instance because) She’s scrambling forward regardless to tuck Ray into her arms. And Norman’s moving forward to tuck them both behind his back.
“You don’t have to put it that way, do you—?” Emma cries out at him, bewildered.
“That idiot—” Older Ray jerks his chin pointedly at their Ray. “At age six, he tried to scratch out the tracker so as to commit suicide. Even now, he’s still collecting the materials for getting the two of you out. Just the two of you.” He emphasizes, face dark as he peers down at his own past.
This time, it’s Emma who makes a strangled sound, torn as she looks down at the boy in her arms.
“Your foolishness will eventually cause Norman to sacrifice himself.” Older Ray grits out, face contorting at whatever pained memory he’s having. “He would have been eaten if he wasn’t picked out for his smarts.” Older Ray eyes his younger self in disgust. “How stupid were you, to let yourself be trapped in your head? Did you honestly think that Emma and Norman would be happy to know you died, thinking that’s all your life’s worth? A means for them to escape? Stop thinking about only yourself!” He hisses.
Someone’s breath is trembling. Norman inhales, with a light shudder in his breath.
“…Stop pinning your own faults on Ray!” He yells back, for the first time. Emma’s world flips again. It’s the first time she’s ever heard Norman raise his voice. “These are things which has already happened to you, we get it! We’ll do something about our Ray, but—!” His voice hitches, as if catching himself. Norman looks up in realization. “Stop…blaming yourself for my future self’s choices. I must have tried to save all three of us the best I could. If I sacrificed myself then, that must have been the only solution…”
Only solution? Sacrificing? Thinking about what a life’s worth?
“Aaah… sheesh! This is too much!” Emma bursts out, leaping to her feet.
“Eh? Emma?” Norman spins around, caught off guard. “What are you—Ouch!” He winces under the whack to his head.
Younger Ray too – their Ray, he hisses under the pelt he gets over the head.
“What was that for—” And another, because his adult self there just threw a fruit core at her. “Damnit, Emma—” And another, because he swore.
“Each and every one of you… you self-sacrificing idiots…!” She grits out, furious.
Then, Emma’s storming over to the older version of Ray. The first punch she throws is avoided at the last second. She only has time to process that her hand’s flying towards the tree bark and attempt to redirect her hit, but obviously, it’s useless.
“OUCH!” She screeches at her own attack.
“E-Emma?!” This time, Norman’s cry of her name is full of worry.
Emma peers through watery eyes, cradling her hand to her chest. She sees a smirk on stupid Ray’s ugly mug. If the younger version is a terror, the older is an absolute menace.
“Stay still, you—!” She raises her uninjured hand. This time, Older Ray doesn’t move out of the way and allows her to whack him over the head. “Idiot!” Emma shrieks. Older Ray’s even knocked forward slightly with her attack.
“Alright. I deserve that.”
“No one here is sacrificing themselves to get us out, alright?!” Emma swivels around to take all of them in with burning eyes. She furiously blinks away the tears from her stinging eyes. “No one will be missing at the end of this. We’ll all be here, safe and sound. And if any of you even begin to think about throwing your life away, I swear, I’m going to do something even worse to you than death.”
She’s breathing fire as she rounds on both of her year mates, idiotic secretive fools they are.
“Alright?”
It’s not a question. It’s a coercion, murmured with sharpened eyes and bloody fist shaking taut by her side. The two smartasses are quick to look from her fist back to her face.
“G-Got it!” Norman squeaks, a timid smile on his face.
“…You better have a proper plan that’d get all three of us out then, future me.” Ray peers across the field at his older self.
“Ray,” Emma cracks her knuckles with a dark smile. “That’s not an agreement.”
The two Ray’s exchange equally glum looks.
“You better make that promise to her soon, past me, or you won’t live to see the escape plan.” Older Ray tells his younger self.
“A-Alright.” Ray finally ducks his head, eyeing her fist pointedly. “I promise.”
“And you too,” Emma spins around to prod Older Ray in the chest. Older Ray contorts his face in pain. Emma huffs as she straightens back to her tallest height, folding her arms sternly. “You better not leave anyone out in your escape plan. It’s good that you’ve learnt how to stop putting your life in meaningless risk.” Because obviously, Older Ray has learnt enough to be lecturing his younger self.
(Flickers of shock crosses the two boys’ faces. They exchange stunned looks. ‘Did you notice?’ ‘No, I was busy relieving a trauma, dumbass.’)
“But bully our Ray again and you will face the consequences.” Emma levels the other with a gaze clearly aimed to kill. Perhaps, it’s for the best that both her boys are behind her, not seeing this expression. Because Emma never wanted to give any one of her family this look, but also never wanted to see any one of them hurt.
Older Ray meets her gaze evenly, unsurprised by her venomous look.
“Got it, twerp.” He replies sombrely.
Emma takes a deep breath.
“…Who are you calling a twerp?!” She raises her hands to tug at his hair.
“Oh, she’s back to normal.” Ray deadpans.
“That’s how Emma should be!” Norman chuckles, voice twinkling with laughter.
-
A plan is put in place, more a supportive network than anything to keep them all alive (when all truths have been spilled and Emma’s left shuddering cold at Ray’s confirmation that yes, the outside world really is like that. All his memories from his first year points to that fact).
There’s really nothing that detracts from their usual lifestyle. (That’s the whole point of it.)
Norman and Emma take turns being ‘it’. One trains up the other kids’ fitness and brains as the other slips away to do some training with Older Ray on how to defeat these monsters. They need the younger ones to be in good form too, for when Older Ray breaks them out, even if they remain oblivious.
In Ray’s case, since he has the unfortunate disadvantage of keeping up his usual sedentary lifestyle, he continues sitting by the base of the tree, reporting to Mama about the mundane events of their lives. Without a trigger, Mama doesn’t suspect a thing. (There are still lingering doubts as to whether Mama is really not on their side. Why does Older Ray call her ‘Isabella’ with that look in his eyes? How could Mama look and smile at them so kindly? How could Emma suspect her even now?) (She smiles anyways and she keeps up the deceit.)
In those rare moments where they’re able to play ball rather than tag, Norman and Emma do all they can to get Ray to catch up. (And boy does Emma rub it in his face, even if being the best isn’t the priority. It gets Ray more motivated, so who cares, right?)
Food can apparently be gathered with the aid of a well-aimed, tied up arrow from the top of the wall. Still, Emma continues to squirrel away what snacks she can when she’s ‘it’ so as to pass it to him. Norman does the same, and even Ray has tossed some ration bars in his older self’s face at some point. He had apparently been saving some from Mama, planning for their escape.
And so, life slips by in its usual peace.
(Or seemingly so.)
-
Emma’s wails are loud and mournful.
It’s terrible. So terrible. Still, they’ve got to keep her hushed and quiet from the other kids playing around the house. (One less of them. There’s now one less sibling older than them.)
It’s Norman who steps forward to do just that, pulling her into himself and redirecting her face into his chest with a cradling palm. The sheer look in blue eyes from seeing green fall shut and tears spill down the expense of her face – the squeezing of tearing eyes whilst sobs come choked but muffled –
Ray could only watch with the familiar numbness freezing him inside out.
“How did you get used to this?” Emma sobs out only after an hour of crying. She lifts her head from Norman’s chest. Norman lays a hand over her head. “How long have you been in pain like this, Ray? Why aren’t you crying like – like us?”
Because Norman too, has been swallowing his tears back in, even as some made their way out. They’re dried by now, hands merely hovering over Emma’s head.
“I’m… different.” Ray’s mouth answers without him feeling it.
It’s hard to believe even now, that his older self was talking about saving everyone and family, when Ray’s world is still too narrow to contain more than three.
“To me, all that had mattered ever since I was six were you two.” He admits, if a bit shamefully. “It didn’t matter so long as you’re able to escape.”
“That’s a lie.” The words are echoed, surprisingly, in unison. Both Norman and Emma are peering at him crossly. They don’t even take a second to look at each other, double-teaming him without pause.
“Are you telling me that everything you’ve got with the younger ones are a lie?!” Emma sniffles. “All those cookies you’ve shared with Shelly? That leg you broke falling off a tree to get the toy for Conny? Even you teasing Don?!” She points an accusing finger at him.
“You’re the one explaining their flaws to them whenever we tagged them, weren’t you? It can’t simply be because we want to save them.” Here, Norman peers up at him with that same dilated look of his. One that peers straight into his soul and tells him yes. Yes, I know you. And you know yourself too. And if it isn’t bad enough that it’s that look that has him questioning himself, Emma throws her hands out and—
“Come here! Now that we’re here, I’ll show you it’s fine for you to cry too!”
It’s a gesture. For a hug.
Ray makes a strangled sound at the back of his throat.
“Wha-? Are you stupid? Crying isn’t going to solve anything! It’s gonna be enough of a pain trying to hide your eyes—” He squawks.
A kick in his bum sends him flopping straight into Emma’s chest.
“There, there.” His older self deadpans mockingly. Norman smiles and pats his head in time.
“Gr… I really hate all of you sometimes.” He grumbles, folding his legs so they could fit better as a trio.
(He refuses to think of that lopsided smirk on his older self’s face that was just a tad nostalgic. How much did his older self have to go through, all because there wasn’t someone to guide them the way he’s doing now? Ray still can’t imagine living with the knowledge that it’s because of him that Norman nearly got eaten. But at the same time, he can imagine being forced to be strong to fill in Norman’s shoes; Emma’s always been more of a brawns than brains type of person. She needs him to stay alive.)
“…Just so you know, I’m not crying anytime soon.” He warns them.
“We know.” Norman drops another fond pat on his head. “But you’ll stay here and comfort us, won’t you?” He grins knowingly.
Cocky know-it-all.
Ray leans into Emma’s hold.
It’s at times like this that Ray’s reminded of his age-old promise to himself to protect the both of them.
Except.
This time, he pauses and has to rewire his thoughts back to saving most, if not all of them. It no longer seems impossible after all, with his older self by their side. So why limit himself to two when his hands could become stronger and rescue the rest too?
-
(Just like that, time continues rolling on without care. The days are ruled by an idyllic carefree lifestyle on the surface and interrupted by the occasional grim reminders of their new reality. They grow closer to Older Ray with time.)
-
(-“Why do you keep staring at my ear like that?” Emma finally bursts out whining when she notices that look for the nth time. Even Norman and Ray look away from where they had been sparring, intrigued by their change in conversation. “You’re acting as if I lost it in the future or something!”
“That’s because you did, Idiot.” Older Ray raps her on the side of her head.
She falls silent, green eyes growing wide.
All sounds of battling wooden daggers come to a stop, the two boys carrying twin horrified expressions. The curve of Older Ray’s lips turns upwards at the realization settling into the boys’ eyes. It’s self-loathing. His gaze is still fixated on the training field, petulantly turned away from Emma’s stunned, uncomprehending one. And he raises a gloved hand to cup his mouth.
“Don’t stop moving there! You’re gonna have to be stronger if you wanna ever match Emma’s sheer stupidity!” That’s the cause of her loss, they get it immediately. But the fact that she ever got into such a situation must partially be their fault too, because why else would he carry such a look in his eyes?
Norman charges at Ray at once, gaze full of frustration for not being there to protect Emma – no matter the time period. And the ravenette refocuses his attentions into defending himself.
Emma raises her feet to knee him in the thigh. He hisses, leaping on one foot.
“Who’re you calling stupid, stupid?!” Lower under her breath, she mutters to him. “Stop beating yourself over it.”-)
-
(-“I meant every word I said the other day, with Ray.” Blue eyes turn up to the Future Ray in the rare private moment they have. They are unrepentant, not that he sees a need to apologize for that. “There is no need to blame yourself over the decisions my future self chose to make. If anything, I ought to be the one apologizing for leaving you alone with Emma—”
Future Ray reaches out a hand. It settles heavy and light at the same time over Norman’s head at once. It’s a feeling that’s totally different from that of Mama’s. One that’s equally strong and indominable, yet gruff and reassuring.
Future Ray ruffles his pale locks fondly. Norman resists the urge to stare rudely out of wide-eyed surprise.
“Thanks, but I probably shouldn’t be having this conversation with the present you, should I?” Future Ray peers down at him, face just a tad flustered.
Norman slowly lifts a hand. He sits two fingers gingerly around the wrist that remains hovering above him. He brings it down and peers pensively at it.
“…My future self is a fool.” Blue eyes shift to peer at the other. “An intelligent fool, because he managed to find a way to kick you out of that suicidal mindset. My absence and Emma’s survival were probably the only conditions possible for you to do so.” His lips quirk up into a helpless smile that doesn’t meet his eyes. “But at the same time… I can’t believe how cruel he was, to force you to fill my shoes for fourteen children. I’m terribly sorry for my future actions, Ray.”
Future Ray’s breath hitches slightly. He hastily averts his gaze, flicking Norman in the head.
“If you’re truly sorry, then don’t do it again, not to my younger self.” He sulks.
“Very well. In that case, let’s make a deal!” Norman smiles guilelessly.
Wary eyes skim over his expression. He lifts a hand up to hold the other’s protests as he explains.
“From this moment henceforth, anytime there’s a plan I’m coming up with that involves risks to either Emma or myself, I shall inform our version of Ray in full.” He cocks his head. “In return, I want only one thing from you.”
Norman points to him.
“That’s for you to sit down and properly talk to my future self the moment you see him.”
“That’s a useless deal. It means nothing if both parties can’t check in on each other.” Future Ray points out.
“Exactly,” Norman chuckles fondly. “But even so, I want to be a little more like Emma.”
A twinge of nostalgia flashes in Future Ray’s eyes, so quick Norman might have missed it if he wasn’t looking out for it. That tells him that the future him is still the same. Even an attempt at talking from Ray will probably lead to his future self unravelling his insecurities. In that case, everything will be alright.
(He can leave everything else to his future self from there.)
“I would like to believe you’d uphold your end of the deal, if I do mine. It’s a baseless notion, but even then, it’s fairly enticing, isn’t it?” Norman smiles up at this version of Ray, not plotting, just merely… honest, in the way Emma has always been with him.
(The correct way to deal with this Ray is not brutal plans or manipulations. This Ray will probably read him as easily as an opened book anyways, after spending years with him. In that case, his only tactical advantage would be honesty—)
Future Ray snorts. He probably has him seen through. Nevertheless, Ray scoffs, redirecting his gaze to somewhere beyond the forest, where Norman knows the walls lie. Norman only beams marginally brighter when Future Ray engulfs his still tiny one in a large, tan, calloused palm.
“You better uphold your end of this deal.” Future Ray tells him evenly.-)
-
(-“Why do you call her Isabella?”
“Because she’s no mother of mine.”
“…You’re denying something.”
“That’s right, kid. Good observation there.” His older self spins around before he could make another attempt. He counts off his fingers, pointing out every evidence. “Even amongst Grace Field House, Plant Three, which is the one we’re in, is considered special – including our ‘normal quality’. That’s one. Isabella indulged us and gave us the things we wanted even though the first few months were filled with meaningless investigations. That’s two. When we left the house, there were still remaining sheets left attached but none was mentioned in the investigations report we found in Grace Field House’s HQ. That’s three.”
His older self lowers his fingers. He continues, voice rumbling low in his chest.
“Phil told us, that she told him when she returned from the chase. ‘Don’t worry. They’ve all made it out safely.’ And that makes four.” His older self lifts his head. “What do you think all of these inconsistencies point to?”
Ray freezes. His voice doesn’t come.
“…If we’re breaking back in, Emma will probably ask me to spare all the Mamas regardless.” His older self says, eyes strained with a burden Ray finally understand. “You’ve watched her sell so many out over the years. She sold Norman out, just so she wouldn’t die. Should I call her Mama?”
“No.” He breathes.
“That said, I won’t blame you even if you want to.” His older self musters a lamenting smile down at him. “I do even now, although that’s what makes me hate myself a little more.”-)
-
(The good and the bad, they learn a little more about the future present before their eyes in the form of Ray.)
-
To some extent, all of them had known it’d be coming. They had seen Older Ray’s chest healing by the day, the motions he could take to fend off their coordinated attacks getting less restricted as autumn passes. Beady eyes grow more wistful, more so when they linger on their faces. And those same eyes turn towards the walls beyond the forest with increasing frequency.
(-“Do you miss them?” Is something that doesn’t need to be asked.
Instead, Ray drops to his feet and pulls out another slab of wood to sharpen into their training dagger.
“Tell me a story about them.” He calls out to his older self.
With the edges of his lips tugging up into a wry smile, his older self begins a tale about a certain village where the demons released and hunted humans for fun.-)
Still, the day he straightens to his fullest height and tells them that he’d be leaving the next day, it doesn’t stop the sadness from coming.
Emma tries to beam and kicks the man affectionately in the thigh with a threat for him to return. She’s a master at faking optimism now. If anyone can do it, it’s her. Norman merely stares, with forlorn blue eyes and furrowed brows which speaks volumes of his melancholy. And Ray lingers in the shadows, watching his future self with gratitude that’s soundly acknowledged by an equally even gaze.
Older Ray smirks as he catches Emma’s feet, and he pulls her into his now cleaner clothes. With one muscular hand, he’s catching the yelping boys too, easily wrapping his arms around them, black cloak fanning over all three like the metaphorical wing they had found themselves under without realizing. Or perhaps, they’ve always been there, even if it took some time for Ray to come to terms with himself.
“Don’t die out there.” Emma finally cracks, fingers burying into his shirt. “Promise us you’ll be back safely. We’ll get our siblings out, together.”
Older Ray smiles lopsidedly, this time fondness smudging the lines of his face as he drops a hand over Emma’s head.
“I’ll be back within two years.” He promises, looking them in the eyes. Norman ponders the significance of that number. “Until then, keep as many young ones safe as you can.” He tugs reproachingly on his own younger self’s ear. “And no suicidal plans.”
“Whatever.” Ray rolls his eyes.
“…Ray.” Emma beams, hand dropping to the raven haired boy’s shoulder, deceptively light.
“I-I got it!” Ray squawks at once. Quirking a smirk at their antics, Older Ray receives a light prod on the arm from Norman.
“I’ll make sure all three of us stay safe.” Norman promises with a smile.
“Including yourself.” Older Ray tags on with a wary look.
“Including myself.” Norman’s eyes crinkle in amused understanding.
They bid their respective goodbyes to him that afternoon, trudging away from that part of the forest with longing looks tossed over their shoulders. Older Ray stands in place and peers after their backs till they are gone. The day next, when they return to the forest, there is no one there waiting for them.
“I wonder if he got out safely.” Emma mutters, gazing distantly at the sheets Mama had hung up. “He said there’s a cliff outside here, right?”
“I’m sure he had a plan of his own.” Norman smiles fondly. “It’s Ray afterall.”
“Yeah… I hope we’ll see him some day!” Emma draws her shoulders close with an optimistic beam.
“I’m right beside you, you know.” Their Ray deadpans, a cross look on his face at their subtle teasing. “Way to make me feel like the third wheel in this relationship. That you’re cheating on me with me only makes the cherry on the top.” He coughs out.
They laugh and banter, just the way they always do. It’ll be like that for a while, at least till Older Ray comes to get them.
-
ten.
-
“—orman, Norman-!”
The faint whisper of an unfamiliar voice slips into his ears. Hands too big to be any of the younger ones’ but too small to be Mama’s are shaking him awake.
He shifts into instant alert, hand sliding beneath his pillow for the sharpened wooden dagger they all keep. There’s a huff in the darkness before a finger prods into the centre of his cheek childishly.
Wha—
Blue eyes warily flutter open. They widen at the familiar emeralds that peer down at him.
“Norman!”
She – Emma – from the future – she calls his name. It’s unbelievable that she’s kneeling before him, with familiar eyes that are soft around the edges the way his Emma isn’t (ah, that thought shouldn’t make him as flustered as he is). Orange curls tumble down the small of her back, some locks are bunched up into a fishtail braid by the side of her face that’s held together by blue and white jewelled barrettes, flowing freely from ear length down. And that same untameable cowlick still sprouts from the top of her head, not unlike his own white frontwards curling one.
She’s… She’s beautiful—
“Emma, the other rooms are awake save this one. Do you need help getting the younger ones up?”
Another woman steps into the room. She’s wearing glasses. It’s Gilda – Norman’s sight snaps to her instantly, yet his attention’s detracted the moment Emma from the future turns her head to her. It sends her braided side-fringe flopping to reveal her left ear – or the lack thereof.
Norman’s instantly rooted to the spot, eyes wide and right hand trailing up shakily.
“Please help, Gilda! I don’t think Norman is in the right mind!” Emma diligently reports.
Norman’s finger lands on the side of her face, and her eyes snap back to him, wide with concern. He could feel the absence of an appendage on the left side of her face. Emma’s left ear is nothing but an empty crevice, a mess of incisions left in the curve of where it used to be.
…It’s all his fault, for not having anticipated that Ray’s combustion wouldn’t be enough to distract Mama… It’s because of his failure to read accurately into the future. That’s why Emma had to make up for his failings with an ear.
Emerald eyes soften as she plucks his trembling hand from the side of her face.
“It’s okay, Norman. It’s nothing compared to those two years we were separated.” She quirks a smile up at him, voice gentle.
“But…” He grits his teeth. He feels ready to cave in from guilt about any moment now.
“Come on!” A burst of pain has him seeing stars. Emma has whacked him over the head. Emma from the future has whacked him over the head. And even then, she’s holding him still by the shoulders, grinning cheekily down at him. “Let’s not have a round two with this! It took me years to beat the guilt out of my Norman, you know?! Don’t take responsibilities for things you haven’t done!”
Norman musters a weak smile to her grin. Her hands are still holding onto his, offering support. She’s Emma, alright.
“Captain, if you could stop flaunting your relationship before all of us bachelors, that would be greatly appreciated.” Gilda’s voice punctuates the comfortable silence of the night in a flat staccato.
“Wha—ah—”
Norman’s jaw drops. He’s plunged into silence, searching desperately for words, caught between stammering frantic apologies for being overly familiar (it’s Emma. From the future. It’s not the one he’s familiar with) and stuttering out hasty explanations. (Which of the two would be the better option? Which could cut short this misunderstanding and put a sound end to Gilda’s spell? In any case, he has to gather himself to put forth a logical reasoning. Stammers and stutters are the last thing that would convince Gil—)
Emma cocks her head at Gilda.
“Why? This Norman is his ten years younger self, isn’t he?”
Her innocent question brings a sound end to his flustered, soundless gawping. Norman whips his head to her, blue eyes bulging as he peers at her incredulously. (She’s not denying it.) It’s getting hard to breathe by the second, especially when he realizes his hands are still wrapped up in hers. (She’s not denying it. She’s not denying it.) (Calm down! This isn’t the Emma from his time! It’s ten years later Emma, who belongs to ten years older him— What. How. When. Older Ray never mentioned it.) (She’s not denying it.)
“Emma,” Future Gilda reproaches, sighing with a shrug. The faintest amusement trails her lips as she quirks them up. “You’ve been spending too much time with Norman. She’s playing mind games with you, younger Norman.”
Gilda makes a strange face as she trots off. She mutters absently to herself. (“That’s going to be weird.”) Already, some of the younger children around them are waking up at the noise.
“M-Mind games?!” Norman finally gasps, mind snapping back to reality. His heart is still pounding loud in his ears. He can’t stop from peering up at Future Emma with wide eyes.
“Who are they, Norman…?” Shelly throws herself sleepily over his lap. He can only lay a hand on her back absently, more preoccupied by staring at Future Emma’s expression in disbelief.
Future Emma is playing mind games with him? Emma, of all people…?
“Ahaha… Sorry, Norman! I just wanted to tease you for a bit!” She rubs the back of her head sheepishly. “It’s been a while since you were this easy to fluster. Ah, don’t get me wrong! Romantic you is plenty charming too—” What? Norman’s mind short-circuits (again). “But shy you just brings me back to the old times when we first started out!” Future Emma huffs, as if she’s made her point clear. “You totally get me, right?”
She’s asking him for his opinion on their future relationship?
Norman manages a wobbly smile. He has always managed to be everything Emma needs in all her moments. From comfort, to brother, to friend, to support. To play the role of a relationship confidant certainly is a first. (He can do this.)
“I…” Future Emma peers up at him with a hopeful smile. Norman’s smile twitches. “I… think I do?” It ends off as a question that’s not quite there.
However, Future Emma grips his shoulders anyways with a cheer.
“I knew you would!”
Demons and promises aside, Future Emma might be the single most destructive component in his life.
“Ahhh testing, one two, one two. Radioing in from squadron two beta to squadron three alpha. Do you hear me?” A casual, distinctively female voice booms into the room with a cackle. It has more children waking. Sleepy murmurs fill the room. Even Don appears to be awake now.
“Wha…?! Wha’s that?” Don pulls himself out of bed, slurring. Drool’s slipping down the side of his lips.
Future Gilda smiles.
“It’s nice to see some things hasn’t changed through the years.” She shrugs.
“…what…” Don stares at her with sleep-buzzed eyes. “So it’s a dream.” He flops back down the bed.
Norman watches the Future Gilda burst out into a lecture, tugging on the sheets Don cocooned himself in. (“Wake up! Explain what you mean by that! You dream about me sometimes?!”) In response, their version of Don shrieks like a maiden, screaming something about the dream touching him, or one ridiculous concept or another. The younger children leap before him, attempting to protect him from—(“G-Gilda?” The younger kids peer up at her with wide eyes.)
…Well, at least they’re able to keep their cool in this situation? Norman smiles uncertainly at them. His eyes sharpen. (If Future Emma and Gilda are here, then without a doubt, the escape plan has already been set in motion.)
“Norman?” Emma pokes her head into his room. “Were you also woken up by—”
“What’s wrong, Gillian?! Did a situation come up over at Plant Two?!” Future Emma furrows her brows at her walkie talkie.
His Emma… or their version of Emma, at least, stops short, stiffening in the presence of her older self.
“You know, Captain Emma… What’s the point of using codenames if you’re just going to spill our names so easily? …Not that we even need codenames at this point though, of course. Oh well.” The casual voice over the walkie talkie deadpans. Going by her tone, it’s not urgent then.
(If codenames are unnecessary at this stage, they must have already executed the most critical part of their rescue plan. If that’s the case, all that’s left is the escape? No, but why aren’t they in a rush then? Are they really so secure in their knowledge that the demons wouldn’t come after them? Or – blue eyes widen, recalling the stories of Ray from the future – have they already wiped out the demons within Grace Field House completely?)
Future Emma relaxes marginally. Ray joins Emma in peeking over the side of the door, and he, too, stares at Emma’s future self with mouth parted in surprise.
“Ah, right. Anyways. Captain Yuugo over here has something he wants me to relay to you.”
“What is it?”
“‘I hate every single one of you Grace Field kids’, he said.” The remark is casually made.
This time, all children within the room stiffen, the younger ones included.
“…w-why…” Shelly whimpers, voice trembling. Future Emma lifts a hand to pat the top of her head gingerly. Shelly shields away initially, but blinks under the gentle touch that’s vaguely familiar.
Norman pursues his lips as he looks from one corner of the room to the other, blue eyes wide with apprehension. Even Emma is slowly bristling at the insult, and Ray is narrowing his eyes at what he perceives to be a potential threat to their family.
Norman gives a strained smile. He doesn’t know how the rescue team has decided to select their forces, but this can’t mean well for this… Yuugo.
“Um. Mh. Okay.” The person on the other end leaves her walkie-talkie for a fraction of a second. “Captain Yuugo said he just looooves getting glomped by children from all angles. And having them call him ‘seaweed-hair’, because he can’t remember their names and bestowed them stupid nicknames. Also, should I continue to let him be interrogated? The kids here might get even the name of his crush at this rate, and nobody but Lucas knows that—”
“Shut yer damn trap, Gillian!” Comes another gruff voice.
“Ahahaha! Higher, higher!” Squeals one of the children on the other end, at their neighbouring plantation.
The walkie-talkie’s hung up on them, just like that.
“What…” Future Emma sighs. “It’s just the usual then.”
Tough love much? Norman sweat drops with a sympathetic smile. This Yuugo character must have his hands full with the original Grace Field escapees.
“Children, this may be sudden, but please get dressed and gather at the hall.” Ma—
“Mama!” Emma’s persona is brought back down like a window in an instant, lips twitching up even though she must be equally startled by the unexpected presence behind her. Ray though… Ray stiffens and attempts to keep his composure. A hand has settled lightly on his back, gentle and light.
That must be who Emma was referring to before she was interrupted by her future self. …Or could it be?
More figures outfitted in black march across outside the doors, each weighed down by an infant or two. The younger children from Emma and Ray’s rooms trot along in their day clothes, chattering with them amicably. Every single one of these black-clad figures don deceptive gentle smiles, matching the kindness Mama wears like her own skin. The pieces finally fit together and he gets what the plan is. (Or at least… had been. A good majority of it has already been laid out.)
(Break into Grace Field through the cliff. Catch the demons within Grace Field off-guard and shut the doors through the only entryway from the inside. Eliminate the demons. Destroy the control centre, rendering the microchips useless. And recruit the staff to help with the younger ones during the journey back to a base. …If they have any.) (They should, if Norman has any indication of what his future self would do.)
“Emma… this plan…” Norman peers distantly at the future version of Emma.
“…I know.” Future Emma smiles down at them. From Norman, to Ray, to her old self. Even the upturn of her lips is strained, as much as it carries resolution. “I hate them too, even though I love Mama still. But you know, if we turn them away right now, if we abandon them… How would that make us any different from them, who left behind others to survive?”
Emerald eyes narrow and her hands curl into fists by her side.
Ah… Even after so many years, Emma’s naivety doesn’t change. Even though she so clearly can’t forgive them too.
Norman finds the edges of his lips turning upwards despite his furrowed brows.
“If it provides any reassurance, those of us who pledge our allegiance to the orphans of Grace Field have also signed our lives over to Norman and his forces.” Mama speaks up again, startling them. She lifts a hand to her chest, where the microchip was presumably implanted. And for the first time, Norman sees something other than plastic in her smile. “We will resign ourselves to having another implanted in us. It is simply a switch of the hands governing our forces.”
Norman doesn’t believe that will happen. More precisely, Future Emma wouldn’t allow it. By the looks of it, Ray gets it too.
(It’s a lie. A deception to get them all to their side before curing them of their brainwashing.)
“How could you?!” His Emma stomps her feet.
“Emma?!” Norman exclaims, bewildered.
“You know what it’s like to be forced under someone else’s control, and yet, how could you do this to others like yourself?!” She points an accusing finger at her own future self.
“Idiot. Cut it out. You’re drawing attention.” Ray chops her head.
“But, Ray—”
“Fu…fufu!” Mama laughs. That’s another first to be added to the list.
“…Mama…” He hears Future Emma murmur off to the side, her voice wistful and eyes longing.
“It’s fine, Emma.” Mama drops down to her knees and draws her into a hug. With still shoulders, Emma’s caught for a moment, uncertain as to whether it’s safe to let her guard down. (All of them are the same.) “For those of us who have abandoned our humanity for survival… there’s no saying that we wouldn’t repeat our sins again. In fact, it’d be foolish to purge us of this system.” Dark eyes peer straight up at Future Emma.
Norman lowers his gaze.
(She knows it’s a lie too.)
(As expected, she knows them best, even after so many years.)
“M-Mama…” Emma trembles in her grasp.
Ray flinches away when a hand reaches out to hold his shoulder. And yet, he’s unable to wrench himself away, when he sees the shaken smile on Mama’s face, stray locks of hair coming undone from her immaculate bun.
“…I’m just happy to be given a chance to love you children normally…”
“Ma…Mama…?” Shelly sees her. She scrambles over with arms wide open and watering eyes. “Mama, why’re you…why’re you crying?” She hiccups. And one by one, more of the children who had been distracted from their whispered conversation look up, joining the hugging pile of bodies.
Emma’s at the heart of it, pouring her heart out as she clings onto the regained pillar of her world. And Ray just stood, having been knocked back by the pile of children.
He stares, conflicted, even when Mama lifts her palm faced up towards him.
Ray doesn’t take it.
Mama smiles and accepts his decision.
“Haah… that’s a relief!” Future Emma lowers herself to the ground, lips turning up at the sight. “Mama was the greatest uncertainty in our part of the plan. Not even demons manage to sway us that much!” She grins, breaths slightly too light with the stress she hadn’t allowed herself to show.
(Mama was the more uncertain factor than the demons. Could Norman allow himself to believe that she traumatized all of them so much in their escape from Grace Field?) (Yes. Yes, he could.)
“Emma…” Norman blinks at the hand she sits over the top of his head. It’s just like Ray’s, but smaller, paler, more tender than Ray’s gruffness. (She probably just sees him as another one of her new siblings. It’s not just the past self of her current b-b-b-boy—)
Future Emma smiles impishly down at his flustered face.
“Aren’t you going to join them?” She asks. Future Gilda smiles as she flanks their side. Future Emma pinches his nose affectionately (to his surprise). She wags a finger at him. “Mama’s still a critical part of your family, even if she may no longer be ours, right?” Future Emma beams. “Don’t let our efforts go to waste. You’re breaking out now, with all your family, you know?”
Norman wants to give away the lie. (If his future self is who he imagines him to be – that is, still ever-orientated around Emma – this would be multi-layered plan made for them to come to terms with their past. There can never be too many benefits reaped from time-travelling.) However, something catches his eyes.
“Those hairpins…” He peers at the tiny white diamonds on blue barrettes. “Are they from me?”
“Hm? That’s right. What about them?” Future Emma lifts a hand to touch them absently.
“Nope. It’s nothing.” Norman smiles as he strides forward to join the cuddle-pile, keeping an eye on the time-travellers behind him.
(Sure enough, Future Emma receives a call from Future him. Unlike the conversation before, she keeps this one hushed, ducking out of the door to a bemused Future Gilda and her rolling eyes. Norman doesn’t see the proceedings thereafter, because Emma’s throwing herself into his arms, bawling with loud relieved wails that he smiles fondly at. But even then, he knows.)
(His future self will be beside Future Emma. She'll be alright.)
-
“Ray!” Emma leaps up into his arms the first instance she sees him.
Older Ray makes a small sound of discomfort. He catches her without flinching anyways.
“Ray… You sure took your own sweet time getting back!” She nuzzles her face into his abdomen.
It’s black and it’s dirty, but – No longer do they have to worry about staining their white clothes. Emma can just indulge, in this rare moment of reunion with one of her brothers (yes, she has adopted him, even without an official certificate. You have a problem with that?).
Off behind her back, Don is making the weirdest yelps of worry, just barely shut up by Older Gilda’s light clasp over his mouth. (“Come on, there’s no need to ruin their moment.” She shushes her frightened younger counterpart.)
The boys are standing off with the rest of the children from plant three, carrying their individual smiles and scoffs alike.
“Ray…” Older Norman lifts a hand to his chin thoughtfully, peering at Older Ray contemplatively.
“Haha~! Ray would make a good parent, wouldn’t he?” Older Her skips up to Older Norman’s side cheerfully.
(Emma makes a note to apologize later. Norman had explained to her in hushed whispers along the way here.)
“W-What’s happening, Mama? Why’re there two versions of almost all of us here?” Don’s alarmed question is an echo of the rest of the children’s thoughts.
“There’s no need to be so afraid, Don.” Mama smiles reassuringly and smoothens out his hair. “Your older selves have come back from the past to protect everyone here.”
She pointedly does not attempt to include herself. It still disheartens Emma to see their older selves flicking wary gazes in her direction, but she can’t blame them (not when she never suffered Norman’s absence) (even if the thought of it is enough to hurt).
“Don’t think about it.” Older Ray snaps.
Emma’s brought back to reality, wide green eyes blinking at the same beguiling smile gracing both Older Her and Norman’s faces. (Older Norman sure looks handsome in the future. She’d always known her brother would grow up to be a charmer.) (Mh? But why is older her acting so chummy with older Norman? And what is Older Ray talking about?)
“I have no idea what you’re referring to, Ray. You’d have to be a bit clearer.” Older Norman offers a winning smile, guileless but charming.
“I’m not becoming the godparent of your children, that’s what I mean!” Older Ray snaps.
Wha—…
“E-Emma, come here for a bit, will you? Conny’s crying for you, I think!” Norman points in the direction of the general crowd. Emma follows his finger, blinking blankly.
“But Conny is asleep, Norman.” She cocks her head in confusion.
“I-Is that so? Aha, I think I got it wrong!” Norman gives a flustered smile.
Emma eyes him weirdly. It’s rare that Norman ever makes mistakes, especially when it comes to the care of their younger siblings.
(“You have two options, Ray!” Older Emma declares proudly, raising two fingers. Ray sweatdrops at the indulgent look Older Norman overlooks her with. This is all because Norman got so used to spoiling her… “Either you give in after being pestered an eternity by us! Or you submit of your own accord! Which do you choose?”
“I could always put you out of job and order you into the babysitting force.” Norman adds with a sly smile from behind her.
Ray’s older self twitches irritably.
“You know you can’t last without me on the field. You need me out there.”
“It would be an immense loss for the human forces without you there.” Older Norman inclines his head in acknowledgement. “What a mighty loss it would be, if one of my most trusted captains pick the least optimal choice for the human forces…” He falsifies the deep sadness on his face. He quirks his lips up, fingers gesturing in their direction. “Well, thankfully, it seems there are some candidates with the potential to take over your seat.”
Older him’s brows twitches violently. He wrenches his head to the side and glances sharply at the three of them. Norman’s still attempting to distract Emma.
Ray peers at him with a look of unbridled pity.
(So this is his future. He must take care to avoid this.)
Older him sinks his face deeply into a palm. And Older Gilda steps forward, finally deciding that enough is enough.
“Come on. Let’s do this another time, alright? The kids are falling asleep waiting for us.” She gives a weak smile.
The older versions of all three of them exchange looks that says this conversation is not over. Norman breathes a sigh of relief and allows Emma to come back.)
“So! All we’ve got to do is to step through this portal?” She looks up at the blue rip in space. Doesn’t that seem almost too easy…?
“It seems easy, but it’s actually not.” Older Her tells her. She casts her a side-glance and a smile. “Ray spent over ten sleepless nights trying to find out how to tune the portal from the time-travelling version we used back to the dimension-travelling one, and then now, space.” She makes a complicated expression. “I don’t really get the mechanics of it even now but… simply put, our mechanics have worked really hard on making it in time for your promise! In fact—”
Older her pulls out a pocket watch out of nowhere. The time’s clicking down to the last second.
“—It’s now your promised two years, isn’t it?” Older her smiles.
“Oh…” Emma gazes up at her with wide eyes.
“You’re making too big a deal over useless things.” Older Ray sighs. “Key thing here is, the moment you cross this portal, you’ll be at our secret base out in the demon world. The world outside these walls are an entirely different reality than the ones you’re used to.”
His eyes glint down at her.
“…Are you really for it?”
Emma squares her shoulders, looking over to either side and seeing Norman and Ray with her.
“…So long as I’m with my family, I can go anywhere in this world!” Emma beams up at them. “Thank you for saving us from this place, Ray!” With an impish grin and a backwards wave, she takes her boys' hands. "We're off then!"
Eyes tightly squeezed shut, she takes a huge breath and leaps forward into the new world, hands firmly interlinked with Norman’s and Ray’s.
(Three pairs of eyes watch them go with far too much sentiment. Emma’s hand slips into Norman’s, and they’re awashed with feelings of grief, delight, sorrow, hope, envy, relief alike. Watching the rest of Plant Three step into the home they’ve prepared for them, Emma spots Ray mouthing the words she’d been repeating to herself numerous times back in the hideout. ('This time... We'll definitely protect them-')
“This time, no one is missing.”
He slowly allows himself a lopsided smirk, small but gentle.
Emma follows his lead with a nod, smiling as Norman's warmth sinks into her hand.
Everyone will be waiting for them, when they go back home.)