Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

They spent days on the river, alternating sleep to make sure they never missed their destination, wherever it might be. Sometimes, the river widened or narrowed, rushed faster or slowed to a calm trickle. Grass and weeds lined the banks in some places, stones and trees in others. Once they left the city, with its grimy buildings and dangerous streets, they never entered another. 

There was no sign of the body of water they crossed to leave the Hunter’s Wilderness. After the first day or two, there was no sign of anything. 

And Mono doubted himself. Doubted the dream he’d had, the memory of his parents telling him how to find home. What if it was a wild coincidence that they found the boat? 

With Six asleep while he was awake, he was able to hide his worry from her. He hid the way he stared out into the vast empty fields that bordered much of the river, or at the tall, rocky walls that sometimes rose up on either side of them. The way he glared into his own eyes reflected on the water’s surface in the calmer spots. 

Turned out he wasn’t very good at hiding that stuff, even when Six wasn’t there to see it. 

“Mono,” she said with a sigh on the morning of the fourth day. When he paused before he could lay down to nap, she continued, “You’re gonna make yourself sick with how much worrying you’re doing.” 

“You noticed?” he asked sheepishly. 

She leveled an unamused look at him. “You keep waking me up later than you should, and I don’t think you actually fall asleep half the time on your breaks. You look like death.” 

He winced. “That bad?” 

Jabbing his side with one of her feet, Six scoffed in answer. 

He bit his lip, thinking. As much as he didn’t want to weigh his friend down with his own concerns, Six was pretty good about telling him why he didn’t even need to worry about certain things. “What if,” he started cautiously, “what if there really isn’t anything out there? What if this is just a waste of time?”

Six leaned her head back against the lip of the boat. “Okay. Worst case scenario, we don’t find anything or anyone. Guess what?” 

“What?” he whispered. 

“We’re still out of the city. We’re still away from all the monsters who hunted us.” She pointedly looked around. “It’s so nice out here. We have’t seen any adults in days, and the air—” She breathed in deeply. “It’s fresh, Mono. We can see the sun.” 

And it was true. Above them, the brightest light Mono’d ever seen shone down over the world, warm and inviting. It cast away the worst of the shadows, brightening everything. Six’s raincoat was a much more brilliant yellow than he’d thought, and even his own coat didn’t look so grimy now. Instead of bringing the worst of them to the surface, finally visible, the sun was making them look more alive. 

Sure, their faces were streaked with dirt where they weren’t covered with the last of the bandages. Their hands were rough and filthy, and their ever-longer hair was matted and tangled. But the sickly paleness of their skin wasn’t so bad anymore. Six had the beginnings of freckles on her nose, and Mono himself felt less wilted. 

Like flowers moved out of the shade, they were beginning to perk up and come back to life. Maybe they’d even fully bloom someday.

“So?” he asked. 

“So, coming here was a good idea no matter what we do or don’t find. We’ll survive somehow. We always do.” 

Could it be that simple? Could they make a new life if there was no sign of Mono’s old one?

He wanted to, he realized. Desperately. To live somewhere pretty and clean, where they didn’t have to hide in shadows or constantly look over their shoulders. Where no hungry creatures or crazy adults could find them. Where the food wasn’t rotten and the air didn’t smell like decay. 

Where survival might one day become living. 

A light must have returned to his eyes, because Six smiled and nudged at him again. “See? Now you’re getting it.” 

“It’ll be okay,” Mono said wonderingly. “We’ll be okay.” 

“So long as we’re together. Right?” 

A weight lifted from his shoulders and Mono beamed. “Right!” 

• • • 

Mono startled awake when his shoulder was shaken roughly. Turning alert eyes to Six, he quickly sat up, taking note of the sun low in the sky. But instead of looking worried, she seemed excited.

“Look!” she cried, pointing down the river. 

Following her finger, he gasped when he spotted a small wooden dock jutting out into the river. It was the first manmade thing they’d seen since leaving the city, and Mono was nearly fit to bursting with renewed hope. 

It was coming up quickly. He and Six locked gazes and without a word, prepared to abandon the boat. It wobbled as they each propped a foot against the lip, hands locked together. 

Even if this wasn’t the right place, Mono reassured himself, their meager provisions had run out that morning, and they couldn’t keep going down the river forever. This sign of life was their best shot. 

Together, they pushed off at the same time, springing up onto the dock with relative ease. The boat teetered and bobbed, nearly tipped over, then continued on its way without any passengers. 

They stayed sprawled on the worn wooden boards for a moment, clutching each other. Mono stared up at the sky where the first little pinpricks of light were forming. Stars. Six had never seen them before, not as far as she could remember, and had been mesmerized with them the first time the night sky had been empty of smog and clouds. 

Six tugged at his hand, encouraging him to sit up. She gestured behind them, where the dock met the land. An overgrown path of scattered flat stones led away into the tall grass. 

He scooted over to lean against her. They stared at those stones for a long while, letting the darkness fully settle over them.

“Do you want to wait until morning?” she whispered. 

Mono slowly shook his head.

Six stood up, pulling him with her. “Ready?” she asked, stepping forward. 

He took a deep breath. “Yes.” 

His first steps were hesitant, but Six didn’t rush him. The stones were warm beneath his feet, which felt both new and familiar. The sun hadn’t warmed anything in the city. After one last glance at the river, he let Six set an even, steady pace on the path. 

He squeezed her hand, appreciating her patience. 

For a while, they were silent, merely listening to their surroundings. Strange noises in the grass startled Mono at first, but when a small bug jumped out in front of them onto a stone, making both of them freeze and gasp in surprise, he realized they were nothing to fear. The little bug chirped before moving along, vanishing off the path. 

Six relaxed at his side, and they shared a little laugh before continuing on. There was a slight breeze ruffling the grass, but other than that and the bugs, as soon as they were far enough from the river, there was nothing else to hear. No creaking doors, no shuffling footsteps, no blaring TVs, no furious static. 

It was almost too good to be true. 

Eventually, Six asked, “Are you excited?” 

And Mono found he was. A lightness resided in his heart alongside the growing hope. A smile came easily to him. “Yes,” he said. “No matter what we find, I’m… I’m happy.” He was looking forward to seeing where the path ended, but the terrible fear of what they might not find had fled. “What about you?”

Six looked away and shrugged. “What if your parents don’t like me? Or what if… what if I don’t like them?” 

He thought of the horrible stuffed family in the Hunter’s house. If Six’s only experience with a family was the Hunter and his dolls, he couldn’t blame her for being nervous. Living in fear for who-knew-how-long would leave more than just physical scars. 

“You have to promise to tell me if they make you uncomfortable,” he said firmly. “We’ll figure something out. Maybe we could build you a treehouse!” 

“A treehouse?”

“Yeah!” The more he thought about it, the more it made sense, if Six ended up being uncomfortable in a house. “It’s just a little house up in a tree, and we could put a bunch of blankets and stuff up there. Like the bell tower! And if it had a rope ladder, then you could pull it inside so no one else could go up.” He paused. “I think I had one, when I was little. Maybe it’s still there.” 

Sounding very skeptical, Six repeated, “A house in a tree?” 

“It’s not like a real house. They’re like… only big enough to fit an adult or two.” Refusing to let his enthusiasm be dampened, Mono bounced up and down, dragging Six after him for a few bounding steps. “It’d be really cool, I promise!” 

A helpless little laugh burst out of her as he made their hands wave wildly around. Six took a lurching leap forward, yanking Mono after her with a squawk. They played for a short stretch, dancing and twisting around without ever letting go. 

When they finally calmed down, they sat on a large stone to take a quick break, giggling through their heavier breathing. They peeled off the bandages, sticky with sweat, and left them beside the rock. Their wounds were scabbed over and healing well, and would hopefully fade away entirely soon.

Six’s tummy rumbled, and Mono’s was quick to follow. Neither paid their hunger much attention, too used to the gnawing ache of an empty stomach. It’d be days more before they’d have to start worrying. 

“There’s so many,” Six whispered, and Mono followed her lifted gaze to the sky. More stars than he could ever hope to count gleamed in the darkness. He nodded in agreement, awed. 

The moon—another new, yet old, thing—seemed to pop out among the clusters. It wasn’t a full circle, but it was thicker than the thin crescent he’d once seen in a dream. 

He leaned heavily against her shoulder, pleased when she let him support her weight in return. They stayed like that for a while, but eventually, they stood to continue their journey before they could fall asleep sitting up. 

For hours, they walked with nothing in sight. All they had was the path to guide them, the deliberately placed stones that Mono dearly hoped were meant for him. 

And finally, as the first rays of the morning sun began to break over the horizon, as trees finally began to stand tall all around them, as the flat ground began to rise and fall in hills, they saw it. 

A cliff face, like a small mountain had been cut in half. In the early dawn, warm lights shone up along the rough surface, and as the tall grass fell away to a shorter, brighter green, they were able to see more. 

There was a fence surrounding the base of the sheer cliff, a nice brown wood that looked well-kept. A few trees were inside the area, and one’s thick lower branches bore an old wooden swing on one side and a tire swing on the other. Half-hidden in the leaves of one of the others, the boards of a treehouse poked out. 

Flowers and other plants overflowed from a garden near a well. It was more color in one place than either of them could ever remember seeing.

A stone bird bath sat near a tree with a bird house hanging from it. It swung gently in the breeze, the briefest glimpse of feathers through the hole proving it was occupied.

The path they stood on led right to a gate bearing a cluster of small golden bells, tied with a bright red ribbon. There were other paths, some made of wooden planks or lined with rocks, that branched out from the gate in different directions. 

But Mono’s eyes passed quickly over all that to land on the most important part: set into the cliff face, buried within the mountain itself, was a house. A wooden overhang sprouted from the rock, shielding clean glass windows. Pillars supported the partial roof covering a little porch area, complete with a swing seat and tiny table. In the center of it all was a door—a soft, welcoming blue—with gold-glowing lanterns on either side and a swirling infinity symbol painted on it in silver. 

Tears welled up in Mono’s eyes, and he tugged helplessly at Six’s hand. She let go for a heart-stopping moment, but only so she could step in front of him and wrap her arms around him. He hooked his chin over her shoulder and hugged her tightly. 

His tears ran down his face and dripped against her raincoat as he stared, almost unable to believe it. That he’d found it, that he’d made it back. 

That he was home. 

Chapter Text

There was movement inside the windows, gentle lights casting shadows against the glass. There was life within the house in the mountainside, tucked so far away from the city, from the Signal Tower, perhaps even from the Wilderness. 

They stood just in front of the gate, looking into the life contained beyond it, at the life Mono was slowly remembering. That he hoped he would one day remember fully. 

Without a word, Six laced her fingers together to form a foothold and crouched with her back to the fence. He spared a glance up at the latch—a simple one designed to keep the gate shut, not locked—before stepping into the cradle she offered. She boosted him up and he flipped the metal fastening. 

As they returned to standing side by side, facing the house, Mono found himself frozen in place. His heart raced, fear choking him, over the questions he still didn’t have answers to. 

What if he wasn’t welcome here anymore? 

Taking the last step into the front yard felt more insurmountable than anything else he’d done in the past few months. Worse than every adult they’d run from, worse than battling the Thin Man, worse than facing the Signal Tower. 

Perhaps he would have stayed there forever if not for Six huffing and giving him a little nudge at the small of his back. He stumbled forward, nearly tripping over his own feet. 

“Go,” she whispered when he sent her a mildly betrayed look. “It’ll be all right, Mono. I’ll be right here.” 

He forced himself to repeat that, over and over, as he laid his trembling hands against the gate. Six would be there for him, no matter what. Six wouldn’t leave him. Six would stay, always and forever. 

His best friend, who had protected him and who he’d protected in turn, would have his back. Now, tomorrow, and for the rest of their lives. 

How different she was from when they’d first met. He almost couldn’t believe he once looked into her eyes and known she was capable of dropping him to his doom in the bowels of the Signal Tower. These days, he firmly believed Six would sooner fight the Signal Tower itself than let it have him. 

They were better than friends; they were like family. 

With that in mind, Mono pushed open the gate. The cluster of bells jingled merrily as he stepped into the front yard and slowly made his way up the path to the front door. 

Midway there, he glanced behind him. Six smiled, not having moved from her place, almost hidden in the early morning shadow cast by the fence. If something happened, she would rescue him. 

Facing the house again, Mono barely had time to take another step when a loud clank came from the front door. A lock being turned, he recognized, and then with a quiet squeak of metal, the handle dipped and the door swung open. 

Momentarily petrified, he held completely still, as if hoping to go unnoticed even out in the open. 

And in that moment, he took in the person who appeared in the doorway. 

It was an adult, a woman. She looked startlingly normal, compared to the monsters they’d been dealing with for weeks on end. Her face was—well, there, for starters—but it was also soft and kind. Rounded, more than his own, and he could see little wrinkles showing her age, but she wasn’t old by any means. There were dark smudges beneath her eyes, which were a perfectly normal size. 

Her skin had a healthy tan, not sickly or twisted or rotten. Dark brown hair hung in a neat, thick braid nearly down to her waist, and he watched her brush it over her shoulder to lay against her back. Shorter strands fell much messier around her face, oddly welcoming. 

A white and green apron was tied around her, but past that, he realized she was wearing a simple, soft looking sweater and matching pants. 

She seemed tired, drooping in a way Mono had long come to understand as being part of an exhaustion of the soul, not the body. 

“Hello?” the woman called, peering around. Six must’ve ducked behind a fence post, because though she clearly saw the open gate, there was no indication of her having seen Six. 

But then her head tilted down a little, and Mono could pinpoint the exact moment her eyes landed on him. They grew wide as her face went slack, and for a long, terrifying moment, they merely stared at each other in silence. 

A few seconds passed, then the woman promptly burst into tears. She stumbled shakily out of the house, barefoot. “Mono!” she cried, almost a question, entirely a plea. 

And it clicked in his head, suddenly and without warning, that this was his mother. No clear memory came with it, but a sensation, one full of warmth and love and safety, immediately filled him. 

He made it all of two steps before she was collapsing to her knees and scooping him up into her lap, shaking from the force of her sobs. Mono buried his face against her shoulder, squeezing his eyes shut against the burn of his own tears. He gripped her sweater tightly, afraid that if he let go, she’d fade away like a dream.

His mom babbled, rocking back and forth. He caught his name, repeated over and over amidst grateful cries of, “You’re alive, you’re okay, you’re here, you’re here. You’re home, Mono, you’re home.” 

“Mom,” he croaked. “You’re my mom, I remember you, I’m home.” 

“You’re home,” she promised, perhaps to herself as well. 

“I forgot, I forgot so much,” he rambled helplessly. “But I—I remembered the bridge! I came home!” 

His mother reluctantly released him, bracing his back when he leaned away to look up into her face. Her eyes, shiny with tears, were a lovely deep brown. And they were familiar, so wonderfully familiar. 

Looking down at him, her face contorted with a sorrow so profound, he couldn’t comprehend how he’d managed to cause it. How someone could care about him so much that their grief over his absence was as strong as if he’d died. 

“I’m okay,” he whispered, reaching up to let his fingertips brush her cheek. She had freckles over the bridge of her nose. 

“You look sick, sweetheart,” she said. Her hand rose to cradle the side of his head, her thumb swiping the skin below the healing gash on his forehead. “And you’re hurt.” 

“It’s not so bad,” he reassured her. He swallowed the rest of his words—I’ve had worse—before he could worry her.

She seemed to hear them anyway, and her expression crumbled. “It’s been three months,” she said, voice wobbling. “Where have you been, Mono?”

“I was lost,” he explained. He couldn’t seem to tear his gaze away from her face, transfixed by the fact that this was his mother. “I forgot everything, too, except for my name. I only just remembered how to come home.” 

“Lost where?” 

He shrugged. “The city. It didn’t have a name. But it was awful, what had happened to it. The adults there were monsters.”

She still seemed confused, but he figured he’d have more time to explain later. There was plenty of time, all the time in the world, now, to tell her what had happened in the months he’d been missing. But that could happen after he introduced her to Six. 

Mono opened his mouth and started to twist around to look behind him, ready to call his friend over, but another voice spoke before he could. It was deeper than his, an adult’s for sure, and another surge of familiarity stole the air from his lungs. 

“Quartette?” his father called. “What are you doing outside?” 

“It’s Mono!” his mother cried over her shoulder. “Duo, it’s our son, he’s come home!” 

The loud footsteps pounding down the path to them briefly made Mono panic—he’d been chased too many times not to have an instinctual reaction—but before he could try to squirm free or defend himself, a man appeared behind his mom.

Just as ordinary as his mother, his dad had black hair and a more pointed chin, like Mono’s own. Wide green eyes peered down at him with such joy, Mono felt as if he’d been punched in the chest. He was wearing a red and white checkered robe over a worn t-shirt, and, though Mono was too emotionally wrung out to laugh, no pants over his boxers. 

There were lines on his face, too, a little deeper and a little more tired-looking than his mom’s. He didn’t have much time to observe his father, because with a choked noise, the man fell to his knees and engulfed both Mono and his mom in a desperate hug. 

Mono felt overwhelmed with the warmth and safe feeling bubbling in his chest, like he was fit to burst with it. He cried, shoulders shaking, as his parents bowed their heads over him. 

“Hi, Dad,” he eventually whispered. 

“My son,” his father rasped. “My son, you’ve come home.” 

“He said he forgot everything,” his mom said. “That he was lost in a city of monsters.” 

“But you remembered?” His dad’s large hand came up to cradle the back of Mono’s head. 

“Not—not everything,” Mono admitted. “There’s still so much I don’t know, but I remembered the bridge. The rest is—I recognized you, right away, but before now, I… I couldn’t picture you. Either of you, or home, or… or much at all.” 

The memories in his dreams came in faint, distorted splashes. Some lingered more strongly than others, but there was a lot of emotion behind it. He knew he’d been happy here, just as he knew something terrible and tragic had happened. The causes of those emotions had been less clear.

Haltingly, he said as much to his parents, who looked at him, grief-stricken. 

“We’ll, we’ll explain it, son,” his dad said. “But—later, all right? You’re hurt, and you must be hungry.” 

“Thin as a twig,” his mother muttered. “Let’s get you some food, and you can tell us more about what happened.” She seemed reluctant to let go, but managed to set him back on the dirt path. 

Food. Food that wasn’t rotten or moldy or covered in flies. Food that had taste, even. His stomach growled loudly just thinking about it.

But, of course, there was still one last thing he had to do before any of that. Six had waited for them to finish for long enough. 

He nodded eagerly. “I am hungry,” he admitted freely, “but before we go inside… I wasn’t alone, when I was lost. I had a friend, and—and she came home with me.” Mono half turned to look back at the gate, getting a quick glimpse of the overwhelmingly grateful expressions on his parents’ faces as they followed his gaze. 

“Of course,” he heard his mother say. His dad made a sound of agreement. “I’m—I’m so glad you had someone to—”

Six hesitantly poked her head out from behind the fence post, and Mono knew her well enough to know she was doubting her welcome here, no matter what his parents might say. He’d convince her otherwise, if it was the last thing he did. 

He realized suddenly that his mom had gone silent, and that neither adult had reacted to seeing his friend, who remained motionless at the edge of the front yard, probably tense and ready to flee at the first sign of danger, or perhaps attack if she thought Mono might be in trouble. 

Confused, and desperately hoping his parents wouldn’t reject her, he looked up at them. 

His mom’s hands were clasped tightly over her mouth as she stared at Six, fresh tears wetting her cheeks. His dad had gone pale and still, as if he’d seen a ghost. 

Before he could ask what was wrong, his mom collapsed in on herself, sobbing hysterically as she folded over her legs, low enough that her forehead nearly touched the ground. With one hand on his wife’s back, Mono’s father raised himself up on one knee and whispered, “Six?” 

“You know her?” Mono blurted out at the same moment Six echoed, “You know me?” 

“You… don’t remember?” his dad asked quietly. 

Mono whipped his head around in time to see Six shake hers. “I have no memories from before the Hunter,” she said flatly. 

“You were stolen,” his father suddenly snarled, full of venom, making both of them flinch, “by a hunter in the woods. Almost a year and a half ago now, that monster…” He visibly collected himself. Brokenly, he told Six, “Of course we know you. You’re our daughter.” 

Six remained stiff and still with shock and disbelief—Mono could see it, clear as day, in the blankness of her face. And he knew exactly why: it was too good to be true. 

He darted forward, and if Six had been paying attention to him, he never would’ve caught her. But she was zeroed in on the adult turning her world upside down, and the seconds’ worth of advantage that gave Mono was all he needed. She took a startled step backward when she registered his rapid approach, but before she could try to run, he had barreled into her and sent the both of them crashing to the ground. 

“Mono!” she cried, wiggling. “Let me up!” 

He pinned her, knowing full well that his friend—sister? was, could he really call his best friend his sister?—was strong enough to wrestle him off. The only reason she hadn’t, yet, was because she didn’t want to hurt him. 

Perhaps, also, there was a seed of hope in her heart. Perhaps she just needed someone to nurture it, because Six—who had faced some of the world’s cruelest demons—couldn’t do it herself anymore. 

As much as Mono had learned to temper his hope, sometimes even fear it, Six had had it beaten into her time and again that hope was a useless thing, a painful thing. 

She had been a survivor, and sometimes she could be cruel, and she was eventually a friend—and a good one at that—but always, always, she was practical. And hope, in the only world she had any memory of, was terribly, cruelly impractical. 

She would run from it now, he knew. Run before it could hurt her, again. 

“I won’t!” he cried. “You—I know it’s scary!” 

She calmed a bit, willing to listen, but remained tense. So long as she was tense, he couldn’t let her go.

“I know it’s scary,” he repeated, softer. “That you, you’ve had no one. No memories. And I think you accepted that, a long, long time ago.” 

She nodded once, sharply. 

“You learned that family was a group of corpses seated around a table. That a home was a prison. That a—that a dad,” his voice cracked on the word, and he felt sick just considering tying it to a person like the Hunter. She winced and looked away. “Kept you hungry, and scared, and hurting.” 

Mono didn’t dare look over his shoulder. His mother’s sobs had quieted, and he couldn’t hear them moving around. They must have still been sitting there, silent, listening. 

“But it doesn’t have to be like that,” he pleaded. “You—if it’s true, then… then you’re my sister. You’re my sister, Six.” 

Past the shock of the moment, the words made joy well up in his throat. His best friend, the one person he had been able to rely on, the one person he had already considered family—was his real, actual sister. A little sob escaped him, and he leaned down, releasing Six’s wrists to wrap his arms around her. 

He cried in earnest when, a few moments later, he felt her arms settle against his back. 

“Please stay,” he whispered against the side of her head. “Please give them a chance. It doesn’t change anything for me, honest. It’s just… official now. We’re family.” 

“Family,” she repeated. He felt the unsteadiness of her breathing. “I don’t know how to have a family, Mono. My memories haven’t been coming back like yours.” 

There was no sadness in her voice; it was just another thing she’d accepted months ago, long before they’d even met. And maybe they never would, he forced himself to acknowledge. She had probably come to terms with that possibility, too.

“Then we can make new ones,” he said, sitting up enough to look down at her. At his sister. “Together.” 

She was quiet for a minute, thinking. But finally, finally, she relaxed and slowly nodded. “Together,” she agreed. 

“You won’t run?” he asked even as he climbed off her, an answer to his own question.

“I wouldn’t have left you,” she retorted. “Just… hidden.” 

And Six, he knew, given enough of a head start, could hide very well. 

Looking at her now, in the sun, and having seen his parents—their parents—Mono was struck by her resemblance to them. They both had dark hair that tended towards messy, though hers was more black like their dad’s, where his was a more of a very dark brown like their mom’s. Six shared their mother’s freckles, and her face, rounder than Mono’s, was like their mom’s, too. 

“The tragedy I remembered,” Mono suddenly realized. His dad’s words hit him all over again. “It was you. You were stolen by the Hunter.” 

“And he had me for over a year,” she added bitterly. 

“It couldn’t have been a coincidence,” Mono whispered. 

“What?” 

“I woke up in his Wilderness. I was only a few hours’ walk from his house. I found you the same day I began to exist.” 

They stared at each other, wondering.

Suddenly recalling that they weren’t alone, Mono stood up and offered his hand. Six took it and didn’t let go even once he’d pulled her up. 

“Ready?” he asked. 

She didn’t say yes, but she also didn’t say no. Her expression turned determined, and Mono was plenty familiar with the things his friend could do when she looked like that. 

Hand in hand, they returned to his—their parents. At last. At long, long last. 

• • • 

Six watched the adults from beneath her bangs, grown far too long for comfort but perfect for disguising where she was looking. They’d been so careful after Mono led her back to them, so quiet and cautious. 

Like she might still run, or break, but they didn’t understand. Mono knew that she wouldn’t, not without good reason. And Six was far from breakable; she resented pity.

She refused to sit at the kitchen table, and Mono had been quick enough to slide down the wall beside her that neither adult had questioned it. The chairs were too tall, too big, anyway. 

A tension hung over them, but it wasn’t dangerous. There weren’t any monsters here. 

The adults seemed determined to get some food into them. Six could appreciate that, at least. Just because she could go longer without any didn’t mean she wanted to. Mono was nearly vibrating at her side, alive with wonder and questions and memories. 

She didn’t begrudge him for that, just as she didn’t mind not having memories of her own past. Or rather, she rarely thought about it. The past didn’t matter much anyway, not to her. The present, on the other hand, and the dangers it held, deserved her attention. 

Mono was right that family to her was a tableful of stuffed corpses. No wonder she’d never been bothered about the lack of her own. 

(On her worst days in the Hunter’s basement, she had wondered. Wondered if she couldn’t remember ever not being in the basement because she had always been there. Wondered if she was more than just the Hunter’s prisoner. Wondered if there was shared blood between them. 

Wondered if she had ever called him Dad.)

In time, maybe finding out that Mono’s parents were also her parents would be a relief. For now, though, there was only suspicion. 

“Did we have a dog?” Mono suddenly asked. “I—I think I remember a dog, but I don’t know if it was ours.” 

Before Mono, Six had never seen a kind smile. He got it from his dad. Their dad. 

“We still do,” he answered softly. “Lazy thing, right up until we don’t have time to play. Then he’s the most energetic creature in the world. Here, I’ll go get him.”  

“Will he try to eat us?” Six asked, not actually sarcastically. 

Their dad paused, looking confused. “Why would he?” 

“It’s happened before,” Mono helpfully explained. “What’s his name?” 

Their parents exchanged a look, one that Six was frustrated to find she couldn’t read, before their father left the room. It was more than one of basics she’d come to recognize on others, though Mono was easiest to understand no matter what. 

“Zero,” their mother, who hadn’t stopped sniffling and sending desperately hopeful looks at the two of them since coming inside, said. 

“We’re all numbers,” Six muttered to her… brother. That would take getting used to, but it wasn’t too different from before. A different name for the same feelings. She remembered what the adults had called each other—Quartette and Duo. Maybe not real numbers like her own name, but more like Mono’s.

“We are, aren’t we?” Mono said, sounding pleased. “And the infinity symbol…” 

Six took infinity to mean forever, which she didn’t mind when it came to Mono. But their mom nodded, smiling wobbly, and said, “An uncountable number. The sum of our family, going back generations.” 

A clatter of nails on the wood floor suddenly echoed down the hall, and Six and Mono were on their feet in an instant, launching themselves to safety without thought. 

“Goodness!” their mother cried in surprise as they heaved themselves onto the table. 

A medium-sized dog bounded into the kitchen. It was colored with random gray and black spotting across its back, and had brown around its face and legs, with a mostly white underbelly. It circled the table as their father reentered the room. 

“What are you two doing up there?” he asked. 

“We heard it coming,” Mono started to explain, but Six interrupted him to say, “Everything in the city wanted to kill us.” 

She understood that Mono was gentler than she was. He’d been better about emotions from the start, and she had no doubt he’d like to spare their parents the worry.

But that wouldn’t help. These adults needed to understand that whoever Mono and Six had been three months ago, or a year and a half ago, were gone. Changed. They had run from monsters, they had fought monsters, and they had killed monsters. Gentleness was for bell towers and boarded up rooms. This was a stranger’s home. 

In order to survive the living nightmare, they had become nightmares in their own right. Breaking fingers, smashing heads—they wielded sledgehammers and axes and took no prisoners. Six and Mono had one, two, four bodies to their names, and then some. Bullies, the city residents, the animals who crossed their path. 

These people said they were her parents, but they needed to understand that that meant nothing to Six. Not now, not yet. 

So she met her father’s stunned eyes and added, “And we killed them right back.” She pulled her hood up, for the first time in weeks, and asked, “How did the Hunter steal me?” 

There were knives on the counter and stones in the garden, and Six wasn’t about to start taking prisoners now. She had changed for Mono because he deserved the effort. She would not change for these adults. 

But she would give them a chance. 

Six’s heart was hard, and had needed days and weeks to soften for Mono. And it did soften, but only when she understood him and knew him. 

She needed to know these adults before anything else could happen. Which meant she had no patience for their too soft, too careful, too fake approach to dealing with the two of them.

Perhaps something clicked, or suddenly made sense. Perhaps her words, cold and blunt, rang true more than Mono’s sobbing ones had. Either way, the tension suddenly fled the room. 

Mono shook his head and sent her a fondly exasperated smile. He inched to the edge of the table and quietly greeted Zero, making it clear that while he would stay for the conversation, he wouldn’t quite participate. 

This was Six’s reunion with parents she neither remembered nor necessarily wanted. He’d had his, tearful and joyful as it was, and was content to let her take her turn. 

She watched from the shadow of her hood as their dad slowly sat down at the table. “We were on a trip,” he started, trying to find the right tone. Hopefully—and she wasn’t often in the business of hoping—he understood now that she didn’t want pity, or to be treated like glass. 

Six was a survivor. She needed them to understand that. 

Their mother continued making food, less careful about being too quiet. Her sniffles had stopped, and Six almost thought she could see a familiar steel in her spine. They all listened as Duo told a story.

A tragedy. 

Their family had been traveling, far enough from home that they were unfamiliar with the land. It was an adventure, for fun. They had tents and a campfire and went hunting and fishing for food. Their journey had taken them through fields and over beaches, until they found themselves wandering down a dirt road beside a forest not far from their camp. 

The daughter, just seven years old, and her brother, a year older, ran ahead, laughing, chasing one another. There was nothing to fear, and the parents watched with happy smiles as they walked sedately, hand in hand. 

There’d been a gunshot from the woods, and the adults had stopped, squinting into the trees. Though they hadn’t seen anyone else in that particular area, it wouldn’t be the first time they crossed paths with some other adventurer. 

“Just a hunter,” the father said, loud enough to carry to his children. He had his own rifle across his back. 

A little ways down the road, the son had paused as well. He looked back at his parents, checking to make sure everything was all right. The gunshot had been close, though the echo made it impossible to tell exactly, and he’d been taught the dangers of such weapons. 

There was no other sound or movement from the trees. 

Further down the dirt track, with the distance between them growing, the daughter ran along, unaware that her brother had stopped chasing her. Something rustled to her right, where the brush met the forest, and she paused. 

A man loomed in the shadows, a rifle like her father’s poking up behind his shoulder, and he was staring at her. Just a hunter, her father had said. 

The daughter made one mistake that day, and it wasn’t a mistake she would ever be aware of. She smiled at the man, and waved. 

The man, just a hunter with a tableful of corpses back home, stepped out of the woods and snatched the girl up. 

She yelled for her daddy, and her daddy yelled, “Six!” 

Taking hold of his rifle, Duo followed the fleeing man into the forest and got off one shot as the kidnapper turned to glance back at him. 

The bullet clipped the man’s face, exploding through his cheek but not lethally so. He tripped from the pain and shock, and as he fell forward, little Six’s head smashed against a rock. She was rendered unconscious immediately, and offered no resistance as her kidnapper stood and made his escape. 

With her cries silenced, the moment the man got out of Duo’s sight was the moment she was lost. No matter how far he looked, or how much he screamed for his daughter, Six and the hunter were nowhere to be found. 

(And, after days of swimming in and out of consciousness, Six would blearily open her eyes and remember nothing. Nothing but her name, the same name the Hunter—just a hunter, she thought—used for her. 

Her prison guard kept his face covered, something for which she would one day be glad, but she never knew where the wound came from. In the Wilderness, where nothing and no one else lived, who could have shot him? 

One day, one day, Six and her brother would finish what their father started.)

The family never quite recovered from the loss. After nearly a year had passed, the brother-turned-only-child ran up to his parents one day, exclaiming he’d seen his sister in the television. Not on a show, but caught in the static between channels, her hands pressed to the screen and a look of fear on her face. Reasonably, they didn’t believe him.

For weeks upon weeks, he insisted he was neither making it up nor imagining it, though it never happened again. 

Until one morning, one year and two months after their daughter’s kidnapping, Duo and Quartette left their bedroom to find the TV on in the living room, static blurring the screen. Their son was nowhere to be found. 

A tragedy in two parts. 

The weeks dragged by with no sign of him, and all they could do was hope that one day, their lost children would find their way home.

(And then, one day, shortly after dawn, the bells on the gate rang out.)

Chapter Text

Six couldn’t remember the last time she’d really looked at herself. She’d caught glimpses of her reflection before, in the rare clean window or shiny piece of metal, or in puddles on the cobblestone streets, but those were in passing. 

Now, she kneeled in front a mirror and stared. The last few days of exposure to the sun had done her some good. She didn’t look quite so deathly pale as she knew she used to. Her eyes were dark, and according to Mono, the freckles on her nose were new. 

The scratches on her cheeks from the muzzle were still visible, but not as obvious as she’d imagined. By the looks of things, only one or two were bad enough to possibly scar. 

She reached out and touched her reflection, honestly unsure of whether or not she liked what she saw. 

On the ground in front of the bathroom counter she was sitting on, Zero whined. Six ignored him, not yet ready to get close to a new, unfamiliar animal, unlike Mono. Then again, Mono vaguely remembered Zero. 

Glancing to the side, Six observed the gentle way their mom examined Mono’s own injury. He was sitting on the toilet lid with her crouched in front of him. The gash on his forehead had been much deeper than any of her own and wasn’t as far along in the healing process. 

Six turned back to the mirror. The most startling thing about the Six she was staring at was how clean she was. Even when they had gone out in the rain during their travels, neither of them had really ever been clean like this. There was no dirt or mud, no blood—hers or otherwise—no ash or dust, no muck or gore or vomit or anything else that had stained her clothes and skin over the months. 

Even her hair, still dripping wet, was clean and untangled for the first time she could remember. Courtesy of her own actual mother, armed with a comb and a level of patience Six herself didn’t possess. 

But only after both she and Mono had a bath, an experience she was still trying to decide if she’d enjoyed or not. It was midday already, and so much had already happened since they’d gotten here.

After their dad finished the story of how she’d been kidnapped, they’d eaten. And Six… Six hadn’t known meals could be nice. Not only had it tasted good, but she hadn’t felt rushed or defensive or disgusted. They’d been able to take their time, and she knew Mono had savored the chance as much as she had. 

They hadn’t told the adults their story yet. Six wasn’t sure she wanted to, but it was only fair. They were plainly, painfully curious, and even though they’d dropped the overly cautious act, they had both gotten a bit teary-eyed more than once when the truth appeared to hit them all over again. 

She needed to talk to Mono. Because this was Mono’s dream, Mono’s goal, and while she had willingly been along for the ride, she hadn’t been prepared for this. She didn’t know how to feel, didn’t know what she should feel, and if she didn’t get to talk to Mono about it soon to figure it out, she just knew she would fall back into old habits. 

And after how far she’d come, Six didn’t want that to happen. 

Only a few months ago, she trusted no one but herself, rarely talked, and felt little else than a bitter anger in between the numbness. Mono had done more than save her from the Hunter. 

Somewhere along the way, he’d ended up saving her from herself. 

• • • 

Mono was all too aware that Six was becoming overwhelmed with the situation. He itched to get her alone, maybe outside so she didn’t feel boxed in, and talk this out with her. As much as he wanted to try and refresh his memory of his parents, as much as he wanted to be around them and talk to them, Six was his priority. 

She would be even if she wasn’t his sister.

The urge to protect her rose again, ever stronger since it really reared its head back in the zoo. Parents or not, these were adults, and total strangers to her. And neither of them had a good track record with adults.

He waited impatiently for his mom to finish treating his forehead, and as soon as she leaned back and proclaimed her job done, he shot to his feet and leapt up onto the counter. Six was staring blankly into the mirror, and slowly turned her head to look at him as he approached. It reminded him of the time she jumped the bully, facing him afterwards with blank defiance. 

Her eyes were definitely blank now. 

Falling back into their earliest patterns—comforting in their old familiarity—Mono held his hand out and whispered, “Hey.” 

Six took it and stood, ready to follow him. 

“We’ll be fine,” Mono told their mom, who looked on worriedly. “It’s just… a lot.” 

She nodded hesitantly, but didn’t try to stop them from leaving. 

Zero was staring up at them from the floor, tail thwapping gently against the tiles. They jumped down without interference, but when the dog trailed after them into the hallway, Mono cast a look at Six. She shrugged. Zero was given a pass, for now. 

It was without thought that Six automatically crouched below the handle of the front door, and Mono let her boost him up to grab it. They slipped outside with Zero close behind, and Mono felt the moment Six began to relax. 

A faint memory guided him into the soft grass. “Sit!” he sternly commanded Zero, who instantly obeyed. “Lay down!” As soon as he did, Mono tugged Six to sit against the curve of their dog’s belly. 

She stiffened up again, but Zero merely panted and got comfortable, apparently unbothered by two small children using him as a pillow. 

After mentally testing a few different questions, Mono finally asked, “What’s most wrong?” 

She didn’t answer right away, instead staring out over the sunlit yard. A blue bird was splashing around in the bird bath. There was a peace here that was wholly unfamiliar to both of them, and he hoped, with all his heart, that it would heal something in them as surely as the sun healed their sickly skin and the food healed their shriveled bellies. 

“I don’t know how to feel,” Six eventually admitted. “I can’t—I can’t be happy. I think I want to, or I should, but…” 

“I understand. Finding home, or a family—you’ve never thought about it before, have you?” 

She shook her head. 

“Are you sad?” he asked. 

“No.” 

“Angry?” 

“Not—not anymore.”

“Worried?” 

Making a face, Six shrugged half-heartedly. “Only that I won’t belong, that I’ll—you want to be here and I don’t want to get in the way of that.” 

His heart ached for his sister, for the long months she spent with the Hunter, who had done this to her, for it wasn’t the Teacher or the Doctor or even the Thin Man who tore such wounds so deep inside her. Tugging her closer, Mono curled around Six with Zero at their backs, as if they were in the bell tower and couldn’t make themselves let each other go. 

“Listen,” he started, quiet and serious, “even if you decide you can’t stand to be in the same house as them, or you decide you can’t stand being in a house at all, I’m never gonna abandon you. We’ll figure something out. There’s still the treehouse idea, or we can see if they have any suggestions. But I won’t get mad or upset. I won’t ever want you to leave just because this isn’t what you wanted.” He shook her gently. “I said you were my family now, too, right? Before we even got here, before either of us could’ve known, we, we—” Mono cut himself off, frustrated that he couldn’t find the exact right words. 

It’d been him and Six against the world. That hadn’t suddenly changed. 

“I think I understand,” Six whispered. “It’s not a choice to you. It’s not me or them. You’ve already decided on both of us, however it works out.” 

“Yes!” Mono cried, hugging her tightly. “Yes, exactly! I would never choose anyone over you!”

She laughed tiredly, leaning into him. “I just don’t know what to do, Mono. I don’t know what I want.” 

Pressing his cheek against the top of her head, he asked, “Well, what do you not want?” 

He let her think for a few minutes while he considered the question himself. He didn’t ever want to be painfully hungry again. He didn’t want to have to kill anyone else out of self-defense. He didn’t want to go a single day without Six. 

“I don’t want to be scared,” she whispered, as if it was wrong for her to want that. “Or treated like I’m fragile. I don’t want to feel trapped. I don’t want to leave you.” 

“Okay,” he said. “I think that’s a great place to start.” 

“Can we stay like this a little longer?” 

“Yeah. We can stay as long as you want, Six.” 

• • • 

It would take time and patience on all of their parts, but there wasn’t a single one of them not willing to give this a chance. 

Six, for the first time in her life, chose not to run. There was no sign of her memories returning, but she didn’t mind. It was easier that way. Whoever she’d been before, that version of her wouldn’t match who she was now. 

Their parents, to their credit, made a welcome effort to learn this new version of their daughter, rather than treat her as they’d known her. Since that first morning, neither tiptoed around their children—their occasionally jittery, clearly traumatized children. They learned, through experience, how to deal with the bad days. 

Mono’s memories continued to come back to him. He got the feeling he’d never remember everything, but it was like being home had unlocked so much he’d been missing. Every now and then, he had one with his sister in it, but he never let those change how he treated her. 

He relearned all the little secrets in their home—the nooks and crannies, the squeaky floorboards, the doors that needed an extra push to latch all the way. Familiarity guided his footsteps as much as his eyes did.

Their bedrooms had been left intact, clean even from dust. Six had stared into hers the first time without a hint of remembrance. Mono had been struck with the impulse to start bouncing on his bed. 

As their parents quickly discovered, though, there was no separating their children, and especially not to sleep. Six didn’t even set foot in her room when night fell, and Mono automatically laid down with plenty of room left for her. 

(The first three nights, they slept in the closet, unused to the mattress and uncomfortable with being in the center of an undefended room. Their dad installed a lock on Mono’s bedroom door, a simple chain latch at their height. It helped, more than either of them expected it would.)

The prospect of regular meals had been shocking, almost. It took time for them to be able to eat more than a serving a day without getting sick.

Mono’s gash healed up, leaving only a small scar in its place. Other than an occasional twinge in the leg he injured, it was the only mark his three-month-long adventure left on him.

Six wasn’t quite as lucky. After a year and five months, by their count, only three months of which were out of the Hunter’s hands, her little body showed signs of her suffering. Though, to all of their relief, the muzzle marks vanished entirely with the help of a home recipe for lessening scars. She would forever bear the two long scars from the mannequin doctor, one across her wrist and the other slicing lengthwise toward the crook of her arm.

There were other blemishes, on the soles of her feet and the backs of her shoulders. Splinters and broken glass, sharp stones and a continual refusal to simply give up—none of it had been kind to her. Her hands were calloused, her knuckles scarred. The ankle the bullies had hung her from never lost the silvery rope burn. A more literal burn mark, small and pinkish and puckered, on one of her knees was the only one she had from before. 

And they both carried wounds to their minds. Six couldn’t stand using spoons, or going into the basement. Mono flinched violently the first and only time he stumbled across a porcelain doll in a storage closet. The sound of things breaking didn’t faze either of them, but too-heavy footsteps sent them scrambling for cover. 

Mono fell back into his role as a son—having been preforming his brotherly duties for months now—with a beaming smile. He eagerly took any opportunity to spend time with his parents—in the kitchen as a chef’s assistant, in the garden to help weed, helping tend to the animals their parents kept in a field at the end of one of those other paths. Though, he resolutely avoided the pigs.

Six, though often willing to lend a hand, reverted back to the habit she developed during their stay in the bell tower, where she would disappear for sometimes hours at a time, desperate to feel free. After the first time no one could find her, they had set up a simple system for her to let them know she had gone out without actually speaking to anyone. 

(Talking freely to their parents was a work in progress for her. She had spent so long having her words ignored by the Hunter that she didn’t see the point in wasting them now.) 

After accepting that Six would never be the type to ask for permission, their mother painted a flat rock and placed it on the windowsill beside the front door. On one side was a depiction of their house in the cliff, and on the other, a grassy field with a few trees. All Six had to do was flip the stone to the second image when she left and return it to the home side up when she got back. It was a concession she was willing to make, and though her parents always worried that one day, she wouldn’t come home, she had never so much as missed dinner.

And like that, the first month passed—full of compromises and learning and, bit by bit, becoming a family again. Despite the things that had changed in their children, both Duo and Quartette loved them dearly, and made sure to tell them just that as often as they could. 

Mono and Six had a long journey of healing ahead of them, but for once, for the first time in forever, they felt like they finally had a real chance to get better. 

Chapter Text

In a true twist of irony, despite Six wanting almost nothing to do with Zero for the first month after her arrival, she was their dog’s obvious favorite human. As much as he loved running with Mono or being pet by anyone willing, the moment Six entered his line of sight, he was up and after her. No matter how much she ignored him, he never gave up. 

Proof as much as anything else that they’d once had a place here, in this home. That they hadn’t been forgotten. That they could—and did—have a place there again.

Perhaps that was why she eventually gave in, after conquering her instinctual fear of him. 

And then he was always at her heels, worming his way into bed with her and Mono, lying beneath her chair at the table—more like a bench for her and her brother to share, made by their father—but the thing that really told the rest of the family that there’d be no separating them was this: Six started letting Zero join her on her private little adventures. 

It was during one such excursion that the rest of their family fell to scheming. That day, according to their parents, was Six’s birthday. She was ten years old. 

Six, who hadn’t even known how old she was up until their mother told her, had no idea. So, as soon as the gate jingled shut behind her and Zero, plans were put into action. Mono jumped at the chance to help his mom bake a small cake for his sister. He was the official taste-tester, because he understood Six’s taste preferences better than anyone. 

As Mom took out the ingredients and Mono pulled out the bowls, she asked, “How does chocolate cake with vanilla frosting sound?” 

“Perfect!” Mono cried, nearly vibrating with excitement. “Can we put sprinkles on it?” 

She laughed and lifted him up onto the counter. “Of course!”

He banged his heels against the cabinets. Pulling over the bag of flour and a measuring cup, he checked the recipe propped up in front of them before pouring it in.

A large plume of flour puffed over the counter and Mono himself. He scrunched his nose up and sneezed.

Laughing, his mother picked up a damp towel and gently wiped his face clean. “It happens to the best of us,” she reassured him. 

“Maybe you should finish the flour,” Mono suggested, “and I’ll measure the sugar.” 

“So long as you’ll let me do the eggs, too.” Mom slid him the sugar and took the flour for herself. 

Remembering the last time he tried to crack an egg, Mono grinned sheepishly. “If you insist.” 

• • • 

Six sat perfectly still and watched the small fluffy creature creep toward her. Zero was silent at her back, a comforting presence now that she knew he wasn’t going to eat her. Even the dog wasn’t scary enough to frighten the animal, not with how long the two of them had been coming to visit this clearing in the woods. 

The fluffy little thing had two long ears and a very round tail. It hopped around rather than walk, and sometimes, it stretched forward on its front legs and wiggled its nose in the air. There were several of them living in a hole near a fallen tree. 

She didn’t know what they were, and some secret part of her wasn’t willing to talk to her family about them yet. They were hers, her fluffy hoppy things. 

After sitting still long enough for it to get within reach, Six slowly extended her hand. Clutched in her fist was a handful of hay and grass. She’d brought some for them before, after seeing them eat it on their own, but this was the first time she was trying to feed one directly. 

A few more of the hoppy creatures were in the clearing, but the one who approached her was the bravest. It, like most of its siblings, was a soft grey-brown color, but this one had a tiny little chunk missing from its right ear. 

Wiggling its nose, it leaned forward and began to munch on the hay. Six smiled. 

She liked being in these woods, for all that the Wilderness still sometimes featured in her nightmares. This forest was nothing like the Hunter's, though. It was bright and so full of life, and there weren’t traps or tripwires around every corner. 

Flowers and mushrooms and moss littered the ground and grew along fallen trees and over boulders. Birds chirped, and she often saw or heard little animals—other than her long-eared friends—scampering around the underbrush. 

It was beautiful. Six wasn’t used to beautiful things. Someday, she’d like to share this one with Mono.

But for now, she leaned back against Zero and dragged her fingers through the fluffy fur of her little friend, who daringly crept closer and nuzzled into her palm. She laughed lightly, feeling almost delirious with how good everything was. 

She wasn’t as scared as in the beginning. Mom and Dad—which had taken getting used to, and sometimes, on bad days, she used their names instead—were so patient with her, and never compared her to the long-gone person she used to be. There were no conditions to living there, to being cared for. 

Being so far away from the city, from the Wilderness… sometimes that all felt like nothing more than a nightmare, one of the worst sorts. But it would never leave her, not entirely. She’d accepted that, just as she accepted she would never get her old memories back. 

It was another hour or two before Six decided it was time to head home. The fluffy creature had fallen asleep on her lap, but it didn’t startle away when she gently moved it to the grass. 

It wiggled its nose at her, perhaps to say goodbye. Six wiggled hers back. 

Zero shook himself off once he stood, and trotted alongside her as she followed a path laid out only in her own head. She kept one hand on his side as they walked, threaded through his long-ish fur. 

Brushing her bangs out of her eyes, she squinted up at the sun as they emerged from the forest. It was still high in the sky, so she hadn’t been gone too long. A gentle breeze blew through her hair, which was short once again. 

It’d taken more than a few weeks to trust anyone with sharp scissors near her head, but she’d finally lost her patience with how long her hair was getting. It fell just above her shoulders in a neat line, no longer scraggly and constantly tangled. And her bangs didn’t cover her eyes anymore, though it felt like they would again soon. Annoying, but at least now, there was something she could do about it. 

Mono seemed to like his shaggy hair, and had only been willing to have it tidied up a little. He and Dad matched, a fact which their mom teasingly despaired about. 

Zero snuffled at her when the cliff where home was finally came into view, and as was customary, Six took off at a sprint with him on her heels. He bounded forward with excited barks, zipping circles around her when she slowed down even a little. 

The gate jingled when she pushed it open, and Zero obligingly put his nose to it to help her return it to its place.

The bird with pretty blue feathers was in the bath, singing a lovely song. A sweet, sugary smell floated from the house’s open windows. She didn’t think much of it, since she knew her mom liked to bake, especially if Mono was interested in helping. 

Her dad popped the door open just before they reached it—as one of her parents usually tried to do, when they heard the bells—and he smiled down at her as she slipped in and sat down on a fluffy towel kept on the floor at the front entrance. She used it to carefully wipe her dirty feet clean. 

“How was your adventure today?” he asked, petting Zero’s head. 

“Good. We went to the forest.” It was about all she ever said about her little moments of freedom. 

He knelt down as Zero rushed off into the kitchen. “We have a surprise for you, Six,” Dad said. And he was still smiling, so it couldn’t have been a bad surprise, probably. 

She followed him into the kitchen, where she stopped in confused wonder. On the kitchen table sat a very colorful treat, much bigger than a cookie. She’d never seen anything like it, and sticking out of the top were a bunch of candles, their little flames flickering.

Mono sat on their shared bench, jittery and beaming. Their dad joined their mom, standing off to the side of the table. 

“What is that?” Six asked, finally creeping closer. She pulled herself onto the bench and peered at the thing on the plate. 

“It’s a cake,” Mom said. “A birthday cake.” 

Two boxes sat on the table beside the cake, one wrapped in a red ribbon and one wrapped in a yellow one. 

She looked at Mono, head tilted, seeking clarification. He leaned forward and whispered, “It’s your birthday.” 

“Mine?” 

“You’re ten years old today, Six,” Dad told her. “Have you ever blown out candles before?” 

She nodded slowly. “But not on a cake.” 

“That’s all right, sweetheart.” Their mother sat down and gently nudged the plate closer. “Traditionally, you think of a wish before blowing them all out. Something you want to come true.” 

It seemed silly, but Six had been learning that it was okay to be silly sometimes. “Anything?” she asked, climbing onto the table to see better. The top was decorated with sprinkles and little swirls of purple icing. 

Mono settled next to her. “Anything,” he repeated. “Even something impossible.” 

Six stared at the ten candles and tried to think of something she desperately wanted. And then, after a few seconds, she came up blank. 

She frowned. Turning to Mono, she admitted, “I can’t think of anything.” 

“Nothing?” 

She shrugged and glanced at their parents, who suddenly both looked like they were about to cry. It’d been a while since they’d done that. 

She had everything she could ever need, and Six hadn’t really ever wanted anything that didn’t have a purpose. She wasn’t much one for toys, after all. Even back with the Hunter, the only thing she’d ever wished for in the privacy of her own mind was freedom. And she had that here. 

“Nothing,” she confirmed. “I have everything I want.” 

“That’s okay, then,” her dad said, sounding a little choked up. He squeezed Mom’s shoulder, standing behind her chair. “You don’t have to make a wish.” 

She nodded and sucked in a breath. Just before she could blow out, though, a thought flitted through her head: I wish we’ll be a family forever. And she let it linger as she blew out every last candle on the cake. 

• • • 

After cake—which was sweet and delicious and Six struggled to stop but she was more than familiar with the ache of overeating—she opened the two little presents. 

The first gift was a blanket, the softest blanket she’d ever felt in her life. The pattern on it showed the moon on one side and the sun on the other, for Six had never been subtle about her love for the sky, now that she could finally see it. Twinkling stars surrounded the moon, and colorful birds spiraled around the brilliant sun.

She had a feeling she would be as attached to this as she was her raincoat. Though she didn’t wear it every day—and neither did Mono always have his long coat—on the bad days or the nights full of awful memories, they kept their comforts close. 

(She would always love her yellow raincoat. But she would outgrow it, someday. In her head, she had already started. It wasn’t the only comfort she had anymore.)

That left the other box, small and flat with its yellow ribbon. 

“This one was Mono’s idea,” their dad said, pushing it closer to her. “I just provided it.” 

Getting an encouraging nod from her brother, Six pulled the knot free, running her fingers over the silky smooth fabric. She set it aside and lifted the lid. 

Nestled among some shredded paper was a small silver box. The front was engraved with nonsense patterns, and a line cut across it a little less than halfway down from the top. When she picked it up, the metal had a comfortable weight to it, and it fit nicely in her hand. 

The line turned out to be a lid of sorts. She flicked it open with a little click, and it hung off hinges on one side, revealing a thin wheel mechanism. 

“It’s a lighter,” Mono explained. “It’s smaller than a flashlight, and Dad says they’re not as fragile. Just… don’t set anything on fire?” 

“Fire,” Six repeated quietly. She pulled down on the wheel with her thumb, and a small flame, no larger than a candle’s, burst out of the top. And it stayed there, even when she tentatively moved the lighter back and forth. “You gave me light.” 

He nodded. “Mm-hm.”

Flicking the lid down again, Six set the gift on the table so she could scoot over and hug Mono. She whispered to him, chin hooked over his shoulder, “No one’s ever given me light before.” 

From the dark depths of the Hunter’s basement to the grim, dim city, light had been a precious thing that she’d never had control over. Mono had usually carried the flashlights, and she’d had one briefly during her second time in the Hospital, but to have one of her own… 

“Thank you,” she said, squeezing her eyes shut. It didn’t matter that here, in this house full of lanterns and lightbulbs, or where the sun shone even in the woods, she didn’t need light the way she used to. 

It was like fresh food, or clean water, or a safe place to sleep. Once you went without it for long enough, had it taken and held out of your reach, had it used to taunt you and punish you—you didn’t take it for granted. Not even once you got it back for good. 

Six held a tiny little sun in her hands that day and knew she would cherish it for the rest of her life. 

• • • 

A few days later, on a particularly clear, warm night, Six found herself lying on a blanket outside, Mono’s shoulder pressed against hers. Bracketing them, their parents provided more comfort than Six had ever thought adults were capable of. 

They stared up at the stars, glittering in the night sky, and listened as their mom and dad took turns telling stories about the shapes in them. It was peaceful, calm. Six was on the verge of drifting off, so relaxed that she hovered half awake, feeling heavy and content.

Who would have thought that something as simple as choosing friendship would would end here? Six certainly hadn’t. Pulling Mono onto the ledge that day, months and months ago, had been the first time she’d seen a change in herself. 

It’d been the first of many. Every little side effect of that decision had lead them here, tucked between two adults who were the opposite of monstrous, who cared about them.

She gripped Mono’s hand between them, feeling so overwhelmed with happiness in that moment that it almost hurt. Happiness, and something else. Something warm, and fuzzy, and soft. Something she’d never felt before. 

For all that she never regained her memory of her past, the words that suddenly slipped out felt natural. In the life she’d had, the one she remembered—they were words she’d never spoken before, not like this. They were words she hadn’t ever believed in, before now. 

“I love you,” Six whispered, breaking the silence. She wasn’t sure who she was saying it to, or maybe she was saying it to all of them. But it felt right, and she nearly trembled with it. 

Mono rolled closer to wrap her in a hug. “I love you, too, Six. You’re the best sister ever,” he said quietly. Not to be secretive, or to hide, though. Sometimes, being quiet was just nice, as she’d learned. 

Their mother, laying beside Six, reacted next, closely followed by their father. They both curled inward, further surrounding Six and Mono in a careful hug. 

Tears shone in her mom’s eyes, but there was a wobbly smile contrasting that. Happy tears, then, like from when they’d come home. “And we love you, both of you.” Her voice shook, but it was strong. Truthful. 

“So very, very much,” their dad added. He reached over them to clasp his wife’s hand. Tucked at the center, Mono sniffled himself. 

Six, who only very rarely cried, merely smiled and relaxed. She was warm, and safe, and well-fed. She was loved. She had an excellent brother who was also her best friend. She had wonderful parents who offered so much of themselves without demanding anything in return. She had a silly dog who hated to leave her side. 

She had a family, a home. 

And so it was, and so it goes.