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When Oz returned to awareness after saying his goodbyes, the first thing he thought was, of fucking course I would be reincarnated as a stuffed animal.
Then he realized that he was in the Abyss; then he realized that that was his own former body kneeling over him; then he saw Alyss, alive again and a little girl; then the Core of the Abyss in his body said, “You see now, little rabbit? I won’t inflict you with the burden of Lacie’s memories this time around. Hopefully Jack won’t try anything here.”
We should kill Jack, Oz tried to say, but nothing came out, because he didn’t have a mouth. And then: what about Gil? Alice? Are they going to remember that other world—our other life—too?
Am I alone now?
He didn’t get an answer, because he didn’t have a mouth, but the Core of the Abyss seemed to see that he was upset in some way, and picked him up with her new hands (he missed the times when those were his hands) and said, “The memories of those that were closest to you might end up returning as well, little rabbit. I’m sorry for the pain that will cause.”
Don’t be, Oz thought. Alice and Gil will—they’ll figure something out. They’ll find a way for me to communicate with them…a way for me to be with them again. It’ll be alright.
And when he was placed down again, he immediately sent his consciousness out of the Abyss, to where Alice was meeting Jack for the first time, slightly suspicious of this blonde stranger, though gratified that he greeted her rabbit politely. And this time, Oz didn’t crumble away to dust in Jack’s hands, so Alice didn’t cry, though he did snatch him back after a few moments.
Alice, Alice, I hate him, Oz thought, even as his—his girl smiled at Jack, was charmed by him. Alice, he’s a monster, I hate him, I want him dead, Alice, Alice, Alice, he’s awful.
Alice did not hear him, though after Jack had left, some hours later, she went over to the window and closed her eyes, and when she opened them, she frowned and held Oz up to face her.
“You and Alyss don’t like Jack,” she said.
I hate him, Oz thought. I don’t know what Alyss remembers…but the Core of the Abyss must have warned her about him. After everything he did to…to our other selves, in that other world…
“Okay,” Alice said, “I don’t like him either.” She then hugged Oz, which was wonderful, though now that he could remember what it was like to be in a human body, he found that hugs when he was a stuffed animal were severely lacking.
But there was nothing he could do about it, other than watch and wait.
Alice and Oz met this world’s Gilbert nearly three years later. He was tiny compared to Alice, though far larger than Oz, which was a crime, and he was the cutest little thing Oz had ever seen.
Unfortunately for Oz’s daydreams of Alice and Gil immediately becoming best friends and playing with him, Alyss was using the body that day, and, upon finding out that these two new boys liked Jack, immediately and viciously began mocking Vincent’s eyes, which drove Gilbert into the cutest little blood rage and kickstarted an enmity between the twins and the brothers that continued on for years on end.
This was not fair—Oz adored Gilbert, no matter what universe he was from, and he adored Alice, and even when they’d fought in that other world that Oz remembered it had never been quite so vicious as all this. Oz was even used as a hostage in their warfare, occasionally, which drove Alice to tears, and so Oz couldn’t enjoy being held by Gil as much as he would like to. Poor Gil—sweet Gil—he hated Alice so much, because her sister had insulted his brother, and Alice didn’t like him because she seemed to be under the impression that she and Alyss had a blood feud with Jack and Gil and Vince were of Jack’s blood. It all came to a head a week after what would have been the Tragedy of Sablier, when Gil inherited the Raven chain at—ten years old, God, he’d been ten, not nine, and Oz had taken even his age away from him—
Maybe it would be better if Gil didn’t remember their friendship in that other life. This Gil—this world’s Gil—would definitely hate him, hate Oz, rather than hating Alyss and disliking Alice and seeing Oz as a tool to piss the sisters off—
But Oz was distracted from his rumination by Alice, who had spent the past sulking and waiting either for Oswald-Glen or Gilbert or anyone to come visit her, suddenly hurling him on the ground with a shriek of rage, and then proceeding to systematically destroy her room, realize that she had lost him, howl his name while tearing things apart, and generally be loud and breaking and Oz couldn’t do anything, until Gil came in, claiming to have been sent to help her.
He collected Oz from where he’d been thrown and gave him to Alice, and, Oz was pleased to see, comforted her—Oswald’s actions and favoritism had taken a larger toll than he’d thought, and Oswald moved firmly onto his shit list—and after that, things were different again. Alice and Gil began a tentative friendship; Alice’s dislike of Jack turned into a seething, bloodthirsty, murderous hatred. Oz approved, of course, except when it put her in danger, but luckily, Alice didn’t seem too inclined to sneak out and kill Jack. She would tell Oz in great detail about her plans to ruin him, though, and talk to him about everything and nothing, as though he were real and could respond, and he would think answers at her, and, when she was silent, daydream about that other world where he’d been able to talk back to her, in a life he’d never really had.
Sometimes, he hated the Core of the Abyss for giving him that glimpse of another life, where he’d had hands and a mouth and the ability to protect her, where Alice and Gil had been his friends, rather than—than his girl and her friend, where Elliot and Leo had—had—had been alive, for a time, and had been his friends, and they’d had what could have been loosely described as a book club. Could have become a book club, if they’d had more time, if things had been safer. Could have been a lot of things, really.
Oz wondered if this world’s Leo would be born with the memories of his counterpart in his head, if he’d think it real or a story he’d read or a dream or nothing important at all. If Oz had had a voice, would his other life have been important to him? If he’d had hands, would he grasp for those memories as tightly?
He didn’t know. He didn’t even know what he wanted the answer to be, really.
And then, like lightning in a dry forest, everything changed again when Gil—because of course it was Gil, of course he would be the first to find Oz even in a totally different world, of course it would always be Gil—when Gilbert Baskerville remembered.
He had spurned Alice for four days, and then brought her something that—that Oz couldn’t smell, but that looked like a recipe Gil had made for him and Alice in the other world, and then he’d brought his head down close to Oz and told him that he remembered, and even if it was exceedingly obvious he thought that Oz was just a stuffed animal without any sentience, Oz couldn’t help the joy that bloomed through him and warmed him in his entirety. Gil remembered. His Gil—his precious, precious Gil—
No. Not his, not in this universe, but now they both remembered the time when Gil had been his, and maybe there could be something here, too, some sort of friendship, of camaraderie, something to strip away Oz’s loneliness that he’d barely even been aware of until Gilbert had revealed that he remembered now, too.
And maybe even Alice would, soon.
…Alice who was screaming at Gil about something now, and Oz tuned back in to hear her scream “I’ve been alive in two separate timelines—”
No fucking way.
They had both remembered? When had Alice remembered? Why hadn’t she said anything about it to him? And why hadn’t she gotten Alyss to make him into a Chain again?
And then Gil had stormed out, and Alice was throwing everything he’d brought her out the window, Oz tucked safely under her arm, and he wanted to scream.
He did not, though, even as Alice ranted about what an absolute dick Gilbert had been, right next to the window, her hands curling into fists as Oz slipped from her grasp, and—
One of the good things, he reflected, about being made of cloth and stuffing, is that when one fell out of a fifth-story window all the way down into the garden below, you did not end up seriously injured or break all of your bones. You just bounced.
In this case, Oz hit Vincent Baskerville directly on the head, and bounced down onto the cobblestone path, and Vincent picked him up, and waved him tauntingly in Alice’s direction, and then tucked him under his arm and continued down the garden path.
Oz suddenly remembered what Echo had told him, in that other world, about Vincent’s habits as it related to stuffed animals.
But Oz was not stabbed or ripped apart. Instead, he was dropped onto a dark-clad figure, sitting hunched on a park bench, head in his hands and muttering to himself.
“Your girlfriend sends her regards,” Vincent said lazily.
Gilbert snatched Oz out of the air and squeezed him. “Alice is not my girlfriend,” he snapped. “We—I don’t think we’re even friends, right now.”
“Well, regardless,” Vincent drawled, “she dropped this out of her window, right onto me, alongside the remains of a meatloaf and a very pretty bouquet…”
“Oh, hell,” Gilbert muttered. “Are you alright?”
“The flowers and meatloaf were already smashed into the pavement by the time the toy fell,” Vincent assured him. “So, brother mine, might I ask what you did to incur Miss Alice’s rage this time?”
“I…I don’t even know,” Gilbert muttered. “I…haven’t been feeling like myself lately. Ever since I contracted with Gryphon, I’ve been seeing…flashes of things that…” He paused. “Vince,” he said carefully, “do you believe in time travel?”
Oz pricked his ears.
“If you go into the Abyss,” Vincent replied, “there’s no telling when you’ll come out again…and I’ve heard you can even catch glimpses of other worlds. Jack’s been having me go in and search for Lacie Baskerville since I was young.”
Gilbert’s face twisted up.
Lacie’s gone, Oz tried and failed to say, Jack’s just a delusional madman who’ll destroy you too if you let him.
Vincent’s head swiveled towards Oz.
“Brother,” he said slowly, “did you hear that?”
“Hear what?” Gilbert asked.
“I think the rabbit just spoke.”
You can hear me? Oz thought—tried to say. Oh God. Oh God. It’s been so long…not even Alice and her sister…not even Gil…you can hear me?! You can understand me?!
“More hear than understand, but yes,” Vincent said seriously, kneeling down to get to Oz’s eye level as Gilbert’s grip somehow tightened and he began trembling. “So long since what? Who could understand you before me?”
Nobody, Oz told him. I just…happen to have memories of another world where I spent some time in a human body, and I could talk to people then. But, seriously, Vincent, Jack isn’t trustworthy. He doesn’t care about you. He’s completely mad, and not in the fun way, and…he would kill you, and Gil, and literally everyone in the entire world to achieve his goals.
“How do you know that?” asked Vincent. “He’s…Jack’s…”
Jack’s a monster, Oz repeated seriously. I don’t know how to share my memories of that other world with you, or else I would, but…I just ask…please stay away from him. Guard yourself.
Vincent’s lips thinned. “Who else knows about this other world?”
Gilbert gasped.
I don’t know. The Core of the Abyss does…she’s the same in all universes, I’d expect. I’ve been suspecting that Gil and Alice do, too, but people don’t usually share secrets with toys, and I am just a toy.
“Gil,” said Vincent calmly, “do you hypothetically know anything about an alternate world where Jack Vessalius tried to kill us, and possibly end the world?”
“He did it twice,” Gilbert said, voice shaking. “You—how do you know—”
“Apparently, Alice’s sentient toy rabbit remembers this other world, too,” Vincent said, lips thinning, and then Oz no longer could see Vincent, because he was caught up in a crushing hug that swathed his entire body as Gilbert held him so tightly that his old, worn cloth body no longer retained his shape, and then he felt and heard rather than saw as Gilbert broke, sobbing desperately into the cloth of Oz’s original body, apologies pushing their way out between tears.
Gil, Gil, it’s okay, I’m not mad—Vincent, could you tell him it’s okay? I’m sorry. I can’t comfort him in this body…I can’t do anything like this. I’m useless. I’m sorry. Please let him know that it’s okay, and that I love him.
“Gil,” Vincent said gently, “your little Velveteen Rabbit there wants you to know that it’s okay, he isn’t angry with you, and he loves you.” There was a pause. “Though really, since he is a child’s toy, I don’t really think he’s capable of not loving—”
I hate Jack, said Oz, and actually, the only people here I love are Alice and Gil.
“Do you not love the other Alice?” Vincent asked.
I like her. Just like I like you, Oz told him. I only love Alice and Gil.
“You’re fucked up,” Vincent said in admiration.
You’re perceptive. I guess that’s why you and Break were always like that…Break hasn’t been born yet, here. But I think you’d get along.
“With a Child of Misfortune?”
I don’t know what that is.
“Brother, your stupid little Velveteen Rabbit doesn’t know what a Child of Misfortune is!”
“I know,” Gilbert said roughly, still holding Oz against his chest in a way that meant Oz couldn’t see anything. “It…had disappeared from the public consciousness by the time we really, properly met. There was no point in saying anything about an old superstition by then. We had important things to worry about, like killing Jack—Vince. Will Oz help me kill Jack?”
“Don’t kill Jack,” Vincent said immediately.
I want to kill him, Oz said. I’ll do it. Please. Have them make me a Chain again. Gil or Alice can contract with me—please, please, please, I want to kill Jack.
“...The rabbit seems pretty desperately to want to kill him.”
“I won’t make him bear that burden,” Gilbert said. “I…I’m going to kill him, Oz. You don’t need to worry. I’ll kill him, and make a world that’s safe for you and Alice to be in without having to fight.”
I want to kill him! Let me do it, Gil, please!
Vincent did not pass on that message, or any others, until Gil had pulled Oz back with a shaking breath, and then carefully set to fixing his jacket and his bow, smoothing out his cloth fur, cleaning away any tears that had gotten onto him, as though Alice hadn’t gotten him covered in far weirder and more gross substances over the years.
“Other than his deep insistence on killing Jack Vessalius,” Vincent said, bored, “he also wants to be made into a Chain again, to contract with either you or your girlfriend.”
“Not my girlfriend. Vincent, in that other universe, she literally called me Papa sometimes.”
“Kinky.”
“I hate you!” Gilbert declared, and then scuffled with his brother a bit while Oz watched from his perch on the park bench. “She was a kid then, Vince, and I was twenty-four. I was her guardian. Even if I liked women…and believe me, I don’t …I wouldn’t look at her like that. That’s disgusting.”
“Okay, okay,” said Vincent, laughing a little. “Are you going to give the rabbit back to her?”
“His name is Oz,” said Gilbert, and then, “...Does he want to go back?”
Yes, Oz said firmly. And I want you to tell her everything you remember, too.
Vincent relayed this, and Gilbert’s face screwed up and then nodded, gently lifting Oz and holding him against him.
“Thanks, Vince,” he said softly.
Vincent nodded, and smirked. “Hopefully you turn that toy into a Chain soon,” he said. “I don’t want to be its interpreter forever.”
“His,” Gilbert said, “and I will. Whatever it takes.”
“Well, you still have your duties to Lord Glen,” Vincent pointed out.
“Oswald,” Gilbert said pointedly, “can go fuck himself. You could fill an entire library with the shit he doesn’t know about the Abyss and how to properly interact with, and the fact that I know all of those things is frankly incredibly embarrassing for him.”
He’s an embarrassing person, Oz said. You should have seen him with Lacie and Jack.
Vincent snickered. “Good luck with your conversation with Alice,” he said. “Without her understanding the rabbit, you’re going to sound like a madman.”
Gilbert’s arms tightened on Oz. “Then so be it,” he said. “I don’t have to give Oz back.”
…Yeah, Oz definitely missed having his own physical autonomy.
Vincent laughed at that, and then Gil ruffled his brother’s hair and headed back towards Alice’s tower.
When Alice opened the door, she immediately attempted to grab Oz.
“I apologized,” Gilbert said quickly. “I…it turns out that Vincent can hear him speak. We have a conversation…sort of.”
“Vincent can what?!” Alice said, still attempting to pull Oz out of Gilbert’s arms, though Gil still refused to let go.
“Understand what he says.” Gilbert paused. “He…Oz asked me to tell you…what do you know about alternate universes?”
Alice’s hands abruptly stilled. “I’m from one,” she confessed.
“Pandora?” Gilbert asked, voice breaking again with desperation. “Do you—remember—with Sharon, and Break, and—”
“Raven,” Alice whispered, and tears shot into her eyes, and then, instead of hugging Gil like Oz absolutely already would have, had he been in her shoes, she slapped him across the face. “You asshole! How dare you say that Oz isn’t real when you
remember
that?!”
“I didn’t think he’d gained sentience yet!” Gilbert defended himself. “I didn’t—we never had time to
talk
about that, Alice!”
Suddenly, Alice’s face fell. “Right,” she said quietly. “And—and now he can’t talk anymore. To anyone other than Vincent.”
“Vince said—” Gilbert swallowed. “Vince said that…that he wants to become a Chain again. And Contract with you again. I think he might be able to talk, if he does that.”
Alice’s eyes brightened. “Get me to the Gate to the Abyss tonight,” she ordered. “...You can keep Oz until then. I know he missed you a bunch.”
Alice always had known Oz better than he knew himself, he thought happily: he always wanted to remain by Alice’s side, but he wanted to spend as much of his time as he could with Gil, too, so long as Gil wasn’t noticing things like Oz being sick or hurting or sad and then proceeding to self-flagellate, and the rest of the afternoon and evening passed quite enjoyably, as Gilbert worked to get pretty much all of the guards to the door looking the other way and picked an incredibly entertaining fight with Jack.
Once it was night, Gilbert slipped back up to Alice’s tower, and Oz felt his consciousness getting tugged back to the Abyss. When he was there, he found the Core holding him.
“Little rabbit,” she said. “Is it true that you want to be a Chain again?”
Yes. Oz wanted to stay by Alice’s side properly again, wanted hands and a mouth and the ability to protect her. He wanted to hug her and Gil properly, and talk to them about everything, and he wanted to beat the shit out of Jack Vessalius with his own hands.
“Very well, then,” she said. “May it go better this time around.”
This time, when Oz bloomed into a Chain, his new shape was far more human than before. He could still feel furry rabbit ears at the top of his head, and his senses certainly weren’t like what they’d been as a human—his sense of smell was far sharper, and everything seemed to have less colors than before—but he had hands, and when he laughed that laughter came out of a proper mouth, and he hugged the Core and spun Alyss all around, first thing.
“May I bring Alyss out with me?” he asked. “You—I’m sure you know, from that other world…”
“You may,” the Core said, and then took Alyss to the side to say their goodbyes.
By the time they were done, Oz could feel Alice calling for him, and realized, quite abruptly, that that other body was still his, though it wasn’t the body of a Chain.
How odd.
“Are you ready to go?” he asked Alyss, and the girl’s red eyes lit up as she took his hand.
“I’m ready,” she said, smiling, and then Oz took off at a bounding run—that was different from when he was in a human body, too, and he realized that his legs were longer, now, and black-furred, and that he was more properly described as a human-shaped rabbit than an actual human.
This was, honestly, better than being a human, in Oz’s opinion—being a human had quite often been painful, for his other self, and if he could avoid that pain he absolutely would—and then, suddenly, he could feel Alice’s hands reaching for him, and he reached for her with one, and held onto Alyss with the other, and then they were out: both twins, and Oz, and Gil was there, and Alice eagerly thrust a bleeding hand at him, and he took a mouthful of her blood and swallowed, and used a familiar scythe to slice the back of his hand, which she eagerly licked at, and then the contract was sealed.
Alice threw her arms around Oz, and he squeezed her tightly back, pressing his face into her hair and inhaling deeply. She smelled different from his memories, or maybe he remembered wrong, but—he could smell again, which was all the more wonderful now that he was out in the world where there were scents, delightful ones, Alice and Alyss and Gil and stone and grass and food and carpet and—
Honestly, Oz could lose himself in how good everything smelled, but he didn’t, because Alice had thrown her arms around her sister and Oz lunged for Gilbert, wrapping himself around him, and Gil was sobbing again, because of course he was, and Oz couldn’t say anything about it, because he was crying too.
They were together again, they were all together properly again, with the memories of a life they’d never lived bouncing around their skulls, and Oz was crying, and Oz was happy, and he couldn’t ask for anything more.