Work Text:
It’s by the time they enter the hotel room that Emma starts to question if Ray can actually speak French.
Not because she wouldn’t trust Ray blindly, but because she is almost ninety percent sure the plan was to get a room for three people. Or at least a room for two people and an extra bed, that would have been totally fine.
In the room’s defense; it is made for two people and has an extra bed, one of those you can roll between rooms, squeezed between their closet and a window that overlooks the busy streets. The problem is that-
“You got a couples room?” Norman says behind her, sounding more amused than actually mad. “Way to make a move Ray.”
“It was an accident!” Ray hisses, and if Emma didn’t know better, she’d think he was blushing a little bit. “I told them three people.”
“…instead of three beds. Classy.” Emma guesses, and then they all go back to starring at the extra bed in the corner, only a few steps away from the queen sized double bed. In the couple bed’s defense, it’s a nice one. Still one bed less than they need, but she appreciates the effort.
(Still, Ray will never hear the end of this, not if she can help it.)
—
“So, Emma gets the single bed.”
“What? That’s not fair to you two.”
“Emma, just take the bed.”
“Come on guys, don’t be so embarrassed. We’ll deal with this fair. Maybe we can vote. Like, we’re all mature enough to be fair here, we-“
—
Emma gets the single bed.
—*—
They stay in Paris for two weeks, longer than in most of the other places on this journey across the world. A lot of points from the wish list they wrote, back in a world Emma can’t remember, just happen to overlap here, lots of things they plan to do. One wish for each member of this family that used to be hers, like visit big shopping malls or art museums, or try food that Emma never even knew existed.
“I think I’m in love.” Gilda says in awe, turning the half of her pink macaron over to examine the layers inside. “Do I know what this is? No. Would I sacrifice Don’s life for it? In a heartbeat.”
“Hey!”
“Were they your point on the wish list?” Emma asks, while Don steals the box of sweets away from them in an act of petty revenge.
“Nope. Me and Anna wanted to go shopping.” Gilda confesses, and takes a short break from swooning over the macaron to stick her tongue out at Don. “You should come along too! Then we could all have a girls night out.”
Her eyes shine at the idea, and Emma doesn’t really like shopping, but she likes spending time with Gilda, so she grins and agrees. Besides, she will get to do so many other fun things as well, they’re staying here to work down their list after all.
Staying here of all the places in the world is just more practical, at least that’s what Norman tells her.
(Emma suspects that he actually chose Paris because Ray so obviously likes it, smiling quietly every time he recognizes something he must have been reading about. Honestly, Emma thinks Norman just kinda has a thing for Ray’s smile. Not that she´s one to judge.)
“What’s your wish?” She asks him later, when she gets a peek at the list and realizes that there is nothing written down behind his name.
There’s a wish for her too, written by someone that she’s never going to be again.
“It’s not a place to visit, that’s why it isn’t on there.” Norman avoids the question, and she doesn’t push. There’s lots of things she doesn’t know about him, this is just another step on a very, very long road she’ll have to walk if she’s ever going to know him again.
(Which she will. Ain’t no challenge she can’t beat.)
—
Over the two weeks they stay in Paris, Emma inevitably starts to learn a lot more about her roommates, tiny things you just happen to pick up on when you share so little space.
Norman always falls asleep way too late, still up to work on his laptop, even if they’re getting up early tomorrow. Ray, on the contrary, is already out of bed when the sky begins shifting from ink-blue to warm yellow by dawn, and he always forgets to turn the water from cold back to hot when he showers in the morning. When she tries to confront him about the latter, he counters that she talks in her sleep, which no one has ever pointed out before.
Norman votes out of being their non-biased judge over who is the worse roommate by deciding it’s actually his turn to shower now.
(She hears him squeal after the water turns on, so looks like he had to learn the hard way how right she was about Ray’s cold shower situation. Serves him right.)
Sometimes she wonders if she used to know all of this, if she’s actually discovering some new things now or if she’s just re-learning them after all.
(And she does not worry that it might be impossible to do that. Not even a little. Totally not.)
Ray sleeps just as light as her, and sometimes there’s a particularly loud noise outside, sirens or yelling or car brakes -Paris is a loud city- that has both of them shoot up in fright. Usually, Ray wakes up before her, and by the time she jerks awake, filled with the burning instinct to protect someone, if only she knew who and why …
…he’s already awake, sitting propped up on one arm, starring at the dirty window.
“’s okay.” He just says, and she bats down her anxieties and nods. It takes a while to shake herself out of the adrenaline rush, old habits die hard apparently, even ones you can’t remember. But she listens to Norman breathing calmly in his sleep, and Ray clicking his fingers against the headboard of the bed, in a rhythm only he knows, and somehow it never fails to soothe her mind.
(Maybe she used to know a melody that fit with his rhythm.
Who knows)
Ray tends to waits until he thinks she’s back to sleep, then he turns over, ever so quietly, and wraps one of his arms around Norman. Not in a possessive way, not even longingly, -Although, if he were to ever catch her peeking over to them at night, this would be the first thing she’d tease him with- Just like he needs to know that he´s still here. A reassurance.
—*—
Paris is a loud city.
The pavements are warm from the early summer-sun, so of course tourists from all around the world cramp the colorful streets and cafés. At every other corner, there’s a kind of street artist offering to draw passerbys in charcoal, or people with blankets full of tiny, cheap souvenirs.
And that is kind of nice, because the only life Emma remembers is filled with the quiet of a lonely house, tucked between mountains overgrown with pine trees. Just the house, and her and Alex. And the graveyard of those he lost around them. Emma has lived surrounded by the dead long enough that sometimes it startles her how purely alive this place is. How much shouting and traffic and laughter and light that never vanishes, only dims at night.
Paris is a loud city, and while Emma has been learning to adapt to her family and all their noise and energy; this place is still a bit overwhelming. Paris is a beautiful, vibrant portrait of a city, and Emma feels like a less bright speck of color, one that doesn’t quite belong with the saturated colors. Which is beyond ridiculous, since she’s the one with hair so bright it sticks out in every crowd.
She can tell that the people notice, can tell how they give her bewildered looks when she gets overly excited over things that are so normal to them.
(“Four different neon colors in one sign, Gilda look, that’s amazing.”)
She doesn’t let herself care about their opinions though. She earned this.
There’s just one drawback to the city.
—
Gilda and Don are arguing about something, and a group of tourists with flashing cameras around their necks and the smell of sunscreen sticking to them babble to their left.
Emma tries to focus, she really does, but her friends are standing on her left side, making it hard for her to understand them.
(Just one drawback.)
That wasn’t that big of an issue on a quiet mountain with Alex, only having one ear left. But surrounded by so many people, it’s hard to place where noises come from sometimes, and what is being said at all. Everything just blends together into a carpet of meaningless vowels.
Old habits die hard, at least she blames it on them when she finds herself drifting to Ray’s side automatically, like there’s an invisible string pulling her there when she can’t rely on her own senses. He’s studying his phone intensely, hair falling in his eyes like usual.
“What’s going on?” Emma nudges his side, nodding over to Don and Gilda, still engulfed in their discussion. He has to repeat his answer once, but she understands it the second time.
“Basically, we got lost.”
“Noo, we’re not lost, don’t worry.” Don lies, taking Phil’s hand, because he is beginning to look at the tall buildings a little worried with his big eyes. “Guys this is just a shortcut, let me just call Norman to see where they all are-“
(It should probably be mentioned that the shortcut was Don’s idea.)
Under combined use of all their (questionable) French skills, Emma and Ray get them out of the alleyway in the end.
…Okay, it´s mostly Ray who gets them out, but Emma nods along very supportively.
“Great job.” Emma cheers, and leans over to high five him, once they can make out to the square where they’re supposed to meet up with the others down the street, Anna already hurrying towards them with her hair flying behind her.
In hindsight, she’s ever so grateful for trying to learn the language at least a bit over online classes. Just enough to know her way around, without feeling like she truly belongs here.
(But who is she to know. As far as she remembers, Emma has never belonged anywhere.)
—
Truthfully, Emma can’t remember belonging with these people that are her family now, and she does not belong with them again quite yet. But that’s fine for now, because they already get along pretty well. She will get there.
Especially the younger children have no hesitation to take her back in, maybe because they’re too young to understand what it means to not remember. They feel that something is different, but Emma looks the same, and she laughs the same way, and even though she’s changed -little things here and there that she doesn’t know of, but notices by the surprise in Norman’s eyes when he expects her to react differently- to them she’s still Emma.
Most of the older ones treat her similarly, even though they have more trouble at first, knowing how much they can put on Emma and how to tell they overstepped some boundaries that weren’t there before. But they trust her, and they put so much effort into trying to build this friendship again that she can’t help but feel welcome. Like they want her to belong here again, and they trust she’ll know when she’s ready for that.
(And it will take a lot more time to belong with them the way they do with each other again, but Emma will get there.
The more she knows them she more she wants to.)
—*—
It happens on the fifth night there. She’s not sure what it is that wakes her up, but when she blinks drowsily, slipping back into consciousness, she realizes it’s probably Ray, not anything outside. Right away she knows he’s afraid, knows it in his breath going too fast and uneven, the way the bedsheets crumble, like he fists his hands into them.
(She just knows, like she knows how to breathe or tie her shoes. Damn amnesia.)
“You still there?” Ray says, no, whispers into the empty room, and for a seconds she´s a bit confused.
She doesn’t know if it´s meant for her. Probably not, where would she even be if not here.
“Sure.” Norman’s voice is heavy with sleep, but not annoyed like she first expects. Just soothing and full of reassurance for - she doesn’t know what they keep reassuring each other of exactly, but it´s written all over their room now.
“Sure.” Ray repeats, and it sounds a bit too relieved. “Sorry. Go back to sleep.”
And Emma doesn’t dare turn over to see, but she just knows Ray wraps his arm around Norman again, and that they hold onto each other like they always do. She wants to say something, but- it feels wrong somehow. They’re kinda having a moment, and chiming in now would be pretty weird.
(“I‘m here too!”)
Because she wants to help, but she has no idea how. If answering now would calm Ray down, if he needs to hear that she’s fine; or if she’d just make it worse if she saw him vulnerable like this.
Maybe the last thing he needs now is a reminder how little she knows about him.
—
Here’s the truth; Emma fits in with her family, even though it can get a bit overwhelming at times. But with these two, it´s a bit more complicated.
Because as much as she doesn’t want to admit it to herself,
maybe one of the reasons why it’s so simple for all her friends to get along so easily with her again
is that they idolize her a little.
Not much, but they do, she hears it in the way they talk about all the incredible things she did in a past she can’t remember. Like she’s still the hero that led them out of the death trap they called home and shook hands with god themselves.
At some point she tries to ask Phil about it, and he puts it very bluntly, like children do.
“You’re Emma. You always know what to do.”
They trust that she knows what to do, even here and now, that she knows how she feels about them and how to belong with them again.
That this is bound to work out, and they just follow her lead to take her back as their friend, their sister, the one they finally found again. After all, she knows what to do. Always has and always will.
—
Emma, as much as she wants to, has no clue what to do more than half the time. Emma is not a hero anymore, these days she’s barely a person.
Sometimes it all feels a bit unreal, a bit too much, all these people that know her so well flying around her, reading her better than she reads herself, while she can barely remember their birthdays. Sometimes she doesn’t know how to react, how to help them when their need it.
Sometimes she’s not sure if she deserves all of this.
She certainly doesn’t deserve to be put on a pedestal, but part of her is a little glad they trust her so much. It makes things easier.
—
Ray doesn’t put her on a pedestal. Ray sees right through her with his dark eyes, knows when she’s clueless or helpless or suffocated from everyone. She tries to ask about it subtly, and guesses it’s because they were equal to each other, always. The first one to have each other´s back, to hold each other’s hand when they needed to hold on, to run back into the fire to pull each other out.
(The first one you go looking for when the world is to loud to hear your friends’ voices.)
They must have been something important, Ray and her.
Sometimes she thinks that Norman knows what the others are doing. (Maybe because he too used to stand on a pedestal for so long. But who is she to know, she can’t even remember pulling him down from it).
Sometimes she thinks he knows that she’s just pretending to know what her boundaries even are. And that sometimes she feels a little exhausted listening to all these stories of who she was. That sometimes she feels like they expect her to be willing to sacrifice everything again if it was for them, and that she just can’t do that yet. Sometimes she thinks Norman sees that too.
Sometimes she thinks she’d do it again if it was for him.
They all try to work this out, and Emma likes to think they’re doing a good job at that. But being friends again takes little time; being best friends the way they were takes to watch the world end a few times over again.
“You were so close, the three of you.” Gilda tells her once. “Inseparable. We used to be a little jealous.”
An they’re still close, the three of them. They’re Emma and Norman&Ray. Just some more space between her and them, just enough to barely be seen from the outside, but feel endless when she thinks of crossing it.
Just some more space between their beds.
It gets a little lonely watching from the sidelines, but that’s okay. She’s used to loneliness, more than she’s used to anything else. She’s just not used to being wanted to stay so much, and sometimes that is kind of terrifying. And so she waits back here, so they don’t have to figure out if she’s even still welcome here, or if she’s too different from the stories of herself.
(Waits in the extra bed and doesn’t know if she’s still supposed to answer, while Ray pulls Norman closer to him; just a reassurance he’s there.)
—*—
Emma doesn’t like dwelling on things, and she doesn’t dwell on this either. After all, Paris is way too awesome for her to sulk over some sort of existential crisis.
(Being a bit of an existential crisis herself, she’d know all about that.)
Et voilà, later in the morning, when they’re stranded in some café with rusty chairs and red parasols, she has almost forgotten to worry. She has some experience in forgetting things after all.
But for all she’s good at forgetting, Emma is a fast learner as well, to make up for it, and after watching the table next to them order, she bets Norman his…probably third coffee that she can convince the waiter not to give him more. In French.
Norman says; “No way.” while he pulls another sugar pack out of the suspensor. (He doesn’t put milk in his coffee; just so much sugar it basically ends up syrup. No one even wants to know why.)
So Emma says “Watch me.”, and Ray looks like he’s only a little bit embarrassed of them and pulls out his phone, because he expects them to be here for way longer.
Paris is a loud, foreign city, and Emma probably doesn’t belong here, but she doesn’t even notice right now.
—
Paris is a loud city, but a group of around twenty kids doesn’t necessarily help to keep it quiet. And that’s fine, but they can’t exactly send everyone to run free on the Champs-Elysees and call it a day, especially since they’ll only be here for two more days, and the kids are getting hyped up. So they form groups, Ray and Norman looking after the youngest, the rest splits into teams.
“Do you want to go with Gilda´s team?” Norman asks her, while they all rush around each other.
“Uh.” Emma says, because she loves Gilda but she, uh,-.
(Okay she’s running out of excuses, she just kind of wants to be on Norman’s team. So what. If she‘s oh-so-worried about what they are or could be or whatever, might as well try to do something about it.)
“Are you two really fine watching after everyone yourself? I can come with and help out.”
Instead of taking the offer (or the hint), Norman shakes his head, almost a little too quickly.
“No, we’re good, really.” He says kindly, and Emma wishes she could tell if he’s trying to push her out, or in all his genius, is honestly too dense to realize she wants to come along.
“Emmaaa, please stay.” Carol runs up to her, and wraps her tiny arms around Emma’s legs.
“Carol, no.” Norman says warningly, and despite how much it sucks; Emma starts to realize that she’s acting a little unfair. If she’s always expecting them to give her space when she needs it, she should give Norman space too when he needs a break from her. And if he’s anything like her, the point when he actually calls that time out is usually way beyond what he’s actually comfortable with.
(In her defense on the latter; how is she going to know her limits if she doesn’t push them? Self-discovery, babey.)
“But-.” Carol protests, and only lets go of Emma’s legs when she lifts her up.
“It’s okay Carol, if you want, you can come with me, and Norman looks after the others, heh?” Still holding the little girl up, Emma turns back to Norman and tries to smile reassuringly. “She can come, right? Sorry, not trying to bother you or anything.” Happily, Carol wraps he arms around Emma´s shoulders, nodding fiercely.
“You’re not a bother!” Norman sounds genuinely taken off guard, and that makes her feel better a bit. “No, just if they, if anyone gets too much, or too clingy, you’re allowed to take a break.”
“I don’t want to take a break, okay?” And she means that. Genuinely, not in the “pushing my limits” kind of way. Despite her words, Norman is still looking skeptical, and part of her wants to grab his shoulders and shake him until he stops saying “But what about you-“ and tells her what his deal is.
“Stop worrying about me. So see you at the hotel later, or you have to see my face for the rest of the day. Last chance.”
“Worse things to see.” Ray says, coming up to her right, to which Carol happily stretches out after him. And oh she’s so grateful that he’s here now. (Emma would prefer to think that Ray likes to see her face for the rest of the day.)
—*—
After some discussions, they decide to visit the Eiffel tower at the break of dusk, when the lights sprinkled across the surrounding buildings start to gleam. They split up, so those who want can go for dinner, and the rest of them settle on buying questionable sandwiches at a corner store, before they squeeze into the subway, watching dirty walls speed by outside.
The city is majestic above ground, but underneath lies a net of tunnels and passages for the subway, stretching seemingly endless, like a second city under the surface, made to cross the space in between to wherever people want to be.
“Dude, we used to live underground for a year or so.” Don tells her once again. “We’ll find our way around here.”
“You my friend lost the right to talk about finding ways three ´shortcuts´ ago.” Gilda chimes in, resting her arms on the back of Emma’s seat. When she’s talking right next to her like this, Emma has no trouble hearing, and she feels especially fond of the other girl for considering her.
“Stop bringing that up! This is bullying, Emma do something.”
“Gilda is very sorry.” Emma pats his arm, twisting herself around Phil on her lap to reach Don. “She’s very sorry that you can’t read a map.”
Don slaps her hand away, complaining about them while Gilda breaks out into laughter. Emma fails spectacularly at masking her grin as apologetic.
“I’m sure the next shortcut will work out.” Emma tries to cheer him up, leaning back. “Right, Norman?”
“Yeah.” Norman says absentmindedly, starring at the floor intensely.
It doesn’t occur to Emma that him spacing out should send all her alarm bells ringing, so she just shrugs it off and turns back to the others.
No one else notices.
—
They get out of the subway at Trocadéro, which isn’t the nearest station but perfect for taking pictures with the Eiffel tower looming behind them, just starting to light up against the silk-colored sky. The air is still warm and the mood is good when they start to make their way down the street, slowly so they can inspect the patches of grass that line the giant square they’re crossing, and the old houses by the sides.
Only halfway down the street, it occurs to Emma that her roommates have fallen behind, quietly arguing at the back of the group. Now it may not be polite to eavesdrop, but before she even realizes what she’s doing Emma finds herself falling behind a little, trying to figure out what is going on.
“We’re not making everyone go back, that´s not necessary.” Is the first thing she hears Norman say, voice quiet so he doesn’t alert the others.
“You don’t get to decide that right now.” Ray hisses back, sounding so pissed off about whatever it is that Emma can’t fight her curiosity anymore.
“Is everything alright?” For a moment they both seem surprised to see her, but before she can come up with an excuse for invading their conversation, Norman already has his act together again.
“Of course.” He smiles, even though it doesn’t reach his eyes. “We’re just fighting a little, why don’t you get back to the others?”
Emma does not buy it, but she doesn’t mean to pry either. Thankfully, she doesn’t even have to.
“It’s not fine.” Ray crosses his arms, starring at the other boy accusingly. “Tell her.”
For a moment Norman seems so annoyed that she thinks he won’t say anything, just to spite Ray.
“I forgot to take my medication yesterday and now I’m starting to show symptoms. I misjudged how bad it would be, but it is okay, let me just drive back to the hotel and lie down for a while.”
“Like hell. We’re all going back, discussion over. You´re not going alone, and I can’t leave the others unsupervised to take you home.”
“Ray-“ Norman starts again, even though Emma can already see he’s not winning this argument. If it was her instead of Ray, she probably wouldn’t let him win it either. Sure, she knew Norman was taking medication, she just didn’t know it was that serious.
But Emma is a fast learner, and it only takes her a few moments to grasp the situation – and the solution.
“I’ll go back with you.” She offers quickly. “Ray and Gilda can look out for the others, right?”
They fall quiet again, looking back at her, like she just appeared out of nowhere to interrupt them.
“I know the way back.” She tries again. Before she even finishes her words, she can already see Norman trying to protest, but Emma doesn´t let him.
“Would you rather go back with everyone than trust me for long enough to take the subway?”
That shuts him up.
“No. No let´s go. We’ll meet you later, Ray.”
—
The subway is even more cramped this time, people returning from work taking up all the spots. In the back they have to squeeze onto a seat that’s probably not designed for two people, but they both refuse to let the other one stand.
Back on the street he leans into her suddenly, like his legs are giving out.
“Should we take a break?”
“No. Just don’t let me fall.”
Emma considers for a moment, she’s strong enough to carry most of his weight if necessary, but that doesn’t mean she would know what to do if he actually had some sort of emergency now. Maybe it’s best to ask.
“So what do I need to do if you break down or something? Barbara says she breaks down sometimes. I don’t know the specifics though, I didn’t even know you had – you had that too.”
They round a corner, into the street they’re staying at. If she looked up, Emma could see their fly-screen covered window overlooking the sidewalk.
Norman seems torn between answering and telling her off for a moment, but since she’s already halfway carrying him, he apparently comes to the conclusion that his pride can take it to answer.
“I’ll give you the crash course. If I actually have an episode, don’t try to hold me up anymore, it’s better if I’m not standing. It- it looks like epilepsy pretty much. Basically I can’t respond, I spasm, so try not to stand to close, I don’t want to hit you accidentally. Ray says my eyes roll back too, so that’s probably gross to watch- call paramedics and make sure I can take my meds to the hospital. Otherwise it’s nothing I can’t deal with.”
Wow.
“Okay.” Emma swallows her nerves down, letting herself sound nothing but understanding. She’s got this. She has to. (Emma may not be a hero anymore, but she’ll be damned if she lets him down now.)
But they make it back to the hotel without anything happening -thank god-, and she watches fascinated while Norman shakes a number of colorful pills into his hands.
“We designed them in different colors so the younger children at Lambda would have it easier taking them.” He explains, already back in the “I’m fine and nothing was wrong here” mentality.
Emma ain’t having it. That’s her tactic to push problems away, no way she’ll fall for it when he does it.
“Do you need anything else? Water?”
“No, that’s all.” Norman tries to smile at her again, putting the meds back. “I’m mostly fine.”
And then he has to lock himself in their bathroom to throw up. Talk about karma for lying.
—*—
When she wakes up again the sun is down completely and apparently the others are back, because Ray sits next to her on the bed and watches over them like a sheepdog over its herd. She doesn’t remember falling asleep, just sitting on the end of the bed, after Norman tried to go to sleep. Now he’s curled up next to her, breathing slowly into the pillow.
“Is he-“
“I’m here.” Norman tells her, hands brushing against hers briefly. “Go back to sleep, it’s pretty late.”
“Sure.” Emma says, then hesitates when she realizes she will have to climb around Ray to get up, because he somehow hasn’t gotten the memo to move away.
“You want me to go-“
“Stay if you want.” Norman says, and when she snaps her head around in surprise, he’s looking away. Huh. “If you got up and changed now, you’d only have a hard time falling asleep.
Just stay.”
—
And so she just stays in their bed.
Ray lies on his back, starring at the ceiling, Norman turns away from her, and she turns sideways, so she’s looking at his back. And that’s what she does, because going back to sleep isn’t so easy right now. Suddenly she’s fully awake, her veins buzzing with energy she forgot she had.
It’s quiet.
(Paris is a loud city, but it´s quiet for now.)
…It’s also starting to get kind of awkward.
Fact is, there are different stages of friendship, and she’s not sure if they’re at the “we can all sleep in the same bed and not be weird about it” one yet.
(…that‘s still friendship, right?)
"You don’t have to stay.“ Ray says casually. "I mean, here. We can rearrange so you stay with Anna or Gilda instead. Or get your own room if you want.“
“I don‘t want to though…?” Emma says perplexed. “If I wanted to leave, I would. If you want to kick me out please just say that." She turns around, the bedsheets scratching against her bare arms, and stares up at Ray. He turns to her, and ookay they’re close now. Face to face. (His nose is sunburnt a little. She can only tell because she already knows, and somehow that’s worse than discovering it right now.)
“He‘s just trying not to overstep any of your boundaries.” Norman says behind her. “I never thought about it before, because we were just so close. But-“
“But we’re not now.” Emma says, and feels some ugly feeling she has no name for scratching down her chest. (Its fingers are clinging to her flesh with sharp nails while it giggles at her, stupid little girl to think she could belong here.)
Because here´s the thing; Emma has no one else.
Emma has Alex, and Emma loves Alex, the way you love a grandfather or a parent maybe, but that’s not the same as having someone your age, someone who sees things the way you do.
And truth is; Emma loves these people that used to be her family, her friends, every single one of them, but (and she‘s not trying to pick favorites here) she still likes Ray and Norman best. They’re the closest friends she has, they’re a team.
And maybe it’s not fair to them, but it kind of hurts, starting care so much about someone (to notice their sleeping habits and their coffee order and the sunburn on their nose),
to care so much more than you‘ve ever cared about anyone else, and still learn over and over that it‘s not enough. Not in comparison to who she used to be at least.
That is doesn‘t really matter if she tries the best she can to help, even when she feels like they don‘t want her to, and still all she remains is “just not that close”.
Because Emma isn‘t “closer” to anyone else but them and apparently that’s kind of less mutual than she thought. Anymore. (But hey, that’s cool, at least she tried.)
“Look, I’m sorry I’m not that strong or or kind or whatever made me so important to you, but I’m-“ She doesn’t want to start talking, but the words just spill out of her, like rain overflowing out of a leaking pipe. “I’m still here.
So could you please just tell me if you still want me around?”
Ray stares at her, and she can feel the covers shift over her when Norman sits up.
“Emma, no one is trying to push you away. But I know you, you always put other’s happiness before what you’re comfortable with. We’re just trying to look out for you.”
Norman says fiercely, and Emma pushes herself up against the dashboard so she doesn’t feel so small. And then she’s just looking at him, face half illuminated by the light of the city outside, and it’s weirdly relieving that she isn’t carrying this around with her anymore.
“You‘re not any less important to us. Wanna know what my spot on the wish list said? It was 'spend time with Emma and Ray'. Just that.”
(Just you.)
…okay.
Emma is a little speechless for a second. Because it’s one thing to search the entire world for someone, but it’s somehow worse to say “I don’t want anything but you. That’s the most selfish thing I can ask for; just you.”
Like, damn.
“You did not write that.” Ray groans, and if Emma didn’t know better, she’d think he was a little flustered. (Not that she’s one to judge.)
“But-“ Emma starts out. “You wrote that before we came to this world. Things are different now, right?”
I’m different, right? I’m not your hero anymore. (I’m not your best friend anymore. You’re just mine.)
“So what?” Ray says quietly, and they’re still so close she’s gonna die. “That doesn’t mean any of us are going to feel different about you. Fuck, Emma you can´t even begin to imagine how important you are to me. Even now. But we can’t just lay all those feelings on you and expect you to be able to feel the same way right away. For now, I’m fine just knowing you’re here.”
“I’m here.” Emma repeats, even though her head is spinning. And looking at it, that’s kind of fucked up, the way they constantly have to reassure each other that they’re really here, because that’s how hard it is to believe they are okay and save and still together. (Or that she’s still wanted here.)
Slowly, she thinks she’s starting to understand. They’re so dependent on each other, the two of them, on this "are you there because I need you to be there", only they know that it’s mutual. That they belong together. And they don’t know how she feels about that.
“Is that why you didn´t tell me you were sick?”
Norman sighs.
“I’m not sick. Sickness is something one can cure, most of the time. Us who used to be at Lambda 7214 aren’t going to stop having episodes, maybe never. We can’t escape that place.”
He looks tired in the faint light from outside, so much older than at daytime when the little kids drag him around. Maybe there’s things out there in the world that make children grow up too fast.
“I will always have to depend on other people to take me home or look after me and I am sorry I didn’t tell you, but I didn’t want you to see me so vulnerable.
I can‘t ask you to let me depend on you, when you don´t even know if you want to stay here or not.“
For a moment they all fall silent. A few cars buzz by outside. Someone is faintly playing music across the street. (Paris is a loud city, even now.)
Emma takes a deep breath, and then she turns over and slaps Norman on the forehead.
He makes a startles noise, and stares at her while she entangles herself from the covers, sitting up so they all have to look at each other.
“Oh for fucks sake.” Emma says. “You‘re not the only one who has to depend on others. I depend on you all the time.”
“Not like-“ Ray starts, but she interrupts him.
“Yes like that. Look, I love the city here, but with all the people around I can’t hear. Literally.”
Usually, out in the mountains, Emma has trouble understanding things occasionally. Here, in the heart of the city, she has them multiple times a day. (Paris is a loud city, but Emma isn’t made for loud places. Anymore.)
“I don’t like always having to ask people to repeat things, or having to hold on to someone so I don’t lose my sense of direction either, but I have to. We all need to depend on others and honestly, I’d rather it be you than anyone else.” Emma says. She thinks they’re going to interrupt her, but when no one does she just goes on. “And I’m not going to walk out of here. I don´t want to go away. I just want to feel like I belong somewhere, and I feel like that with you. I don’t know if I still deserve that, just- I can’t help it.”
It’s quiet again, and Emma is starting to feel weirdly exposed. Like she just stripped out of all of her clothes, only clothes are something you can put back on awkwardly when you change your mind. Her words on the other hand aren’t something she can just take back, (“Haha, just kidding, forget I said anything.”), and somehow that makes it worse.
“I just don’t always know how to do that.” Emma says, and pulls the cover a little higher, up to her chin to get rid of the feeling. “I mean, this is pretty messy but- I think you- uh-“
(But I feel like home with you. I don’t think I’ll belong here, but I won’t fit in anywhere else unless you’re there.)
"You make me want to try and work it out.“ She just says, a bit lamely. “Even if I don´t know how.”
And then she’s finally out of words. Talked herself raw, and this is the point where they either go with it, or where Norman looks at her apologetically and tells her “Sorry Emma, it’s still not enough.”
She squeals when Ray wraps his arms around her, when she’s squeezed against him suddenly. A few moments later, Norman rests his hand on her shoulder, hesitantly, but it’s one more step forward.
“I think none of us know how.” Norman confesses. “Obviously. We’ll just have to figure it out.” Of course none of them know. How could they.
His hand is warm on her skin, but he doesn’t move. Only when she tugs at his arm a little bit he leans over, head buried against her hair. Finally relaxing.
“We’ll manage.” Ray says, and then he lets her go suddenly, like he’s scared she’ll push him away again. "So you’re staying?“
"Yes.“ Emma says still leaning into Norman, and feels like laughing at herself for being so sure he wanted her to stay away when the only thing he wanted was for her to come back again. "Yes I’m staying.“
(And maybe they‘ve all been running through this giant city looking for each other, and now they’re finally standing eye to eye, in the middle of the subway station, underneath the surface of the words they say.)
—
And so she stays. Lets Ray throw his arm over her, not longing, just as a reassurance, and she pulls Norman closer to them despite his protests.
“What if I get an episode after all and kick you in the face or something?”
“We’ll take that risk.” Ray tells him sleepily.
“I know the deal now.” Emma assures him. “I’ll kick back.”
The hairs on her arms stand up when Ray laughs into her hair. She can feel his breath tickling her neck, the fabric of his hoodie clinging to her. After a moment of hesitance, Norman gives in, and they all just- stay there. Squished together in the scratchy bed, legs entangled, her fingers loosely wrapped around the front of Norman’s shirt still, just gentle enough so he could move away if he wanted to.
He doesn’t though.
—
Emma doesn’t belong with them quite yet, not the way they belong with each other. And she knows that will only happen over time – lots of time, years and years of it.
But right now, right here, she just belongs in this moment.
Belongs right here past the space between them, so they all know the others are still there;
Found each again one last time.