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"You've been Jane Doe for the past few weeks."
Faroe's breath shook slightly as she exhaled, digging her fingers into the hospital sheets bunched up in her fist.
"Oh."
"It's... it's interesting." the entity spoke, suddenly taking on a less assertive tone. It caught Faroe's attention.
"What is?" she asked cautiously.
"There's this nurse. She comes around to check on us. She always says, Good morning, Jane."
"Hm. How... nice." Faroe said distantly, feeling a bit lost, only partially owed to the lingering brain fog of having apparently just been comatose for a month. God.
"Well, I, um. I think I like it."
"Like it...?" Faroe echoed, gears turning in her head.
"The name."
"...You want to be called Jane?" Faroe asked, puzzled.
The entity, no, Jane, spoke quickly. "It's strange, I know-"
"No, no, it's alright!" Faroe reassured, suddenly shifting to sit more upright in bed in a way that made the blood rush dizzyingly to her temples. "I, um, haven't had a proper name to call you anyhow, through all of this." She was quickly reminded of her time in that strange dream, blind and alone, with no real name to call out to for help other than... 'friend'.
"So... Jane, then?" Faroe offered, hesitant.
"Yes. Jane."
"...Alright."
Neither spoke for a long, awkward moment, and the only sound in the room was the buzzing of lamps and the rhythmic beeping of the heart monitor by Faroe's bedside.
Faroe chuckled slightly to herself. "Well. I can't say it was the name I was expecting." she mused, leaning back a bit to settle into the pillow.
"What do you mean?" Jane asked, with a defensive edge.
"Well I just- I don't know?" Faroe stuttered. "I suppose since it's traditionally a woman's name." she managed.
"Does that matter?" Jane questioned flatly.
Faroe thought for a moment. “I… suppose not.” She conceded. “I realize I’ve been thinking of you as a man this whole time, but, is that a concept you’re even familiar with…?”
Jane spoke in deadpan. “I am aware of what men and women are, Faroe.”
”Well- yes- of course, but I just mean…” Faroe trailed off, searching for the right words. “Is that something you, er… have?”
Jane was quiet.
”I… don’t know.”
”…Right.” Faroe noted. Of course.
She had just opened her mouth to speak again when Jane began.
”I’ve no memory of who, or what I was before. I know I came from the Dark World, that I was, something, there. But I’ve no idea what. If what I was could even be called a man. Or a woman. If those were things I could even be. I don’t… I don’t know.”
”That’s alright, I-I see.” Faroe said, though honestly her head was spinning a bit from just how lost Jane sounded right now, so unlike the entity’s normal demeanor. “That sounds… confusing.”
“It is.” Jane answered, with something almost like discontent.
Faroe considered. “Do you… feel like one or the other?”
“I… um…”
Jane trailed off.
Well. Giving the voice in her head an additional identity crisis was probably not the move for Faroe right now.
“It’s okay if you don’t know.” Faroe reassured swiftly, gently taking her left hand, Jane’s, in her right and holding it, earning her a quiet oh from the entity.
“For all we know, you could have been neither. Or both, or… something.” Faroe muttered, almost to herself.
“…Maybe so.” Jane answered quietly.
Faroe stretched out, with a slightly pained sigh as her underused muscles protested. “And I suppose we have much bigger problems to tackle at the moment.”
”Right.” Jane said, at attention, as though eager to leave the subject behind. “You said you spoke to someone?”
Water sloshed around Faroe’s oar as she pulled it along with an aching shoulder. The warmth of the sun on her back had long since seeped away, leaving only the biting chill of the night air above the lake.
“The sun has set.” Jane supplied.
”I noticed.” Faroe snipped, a shiver working its way through her. “Damn it’s cold out here.”
“Hmm. A fog has set in rather quickly. It’s difficult to see very far.”
”Brilliant.” Faroe sighed, then lifted the oar from the water to set it down across her lap. “No island, I take it?”
“Not yet. Though I must point out we haven’t been rowing for very long.” Jane answered pointedly.
”Hey, these muscles have been lying in a hospital bed for weeks. This is pretty rough on me.” Faroe retorted, rolling her right shoulder a few times with a grimace.
”…Right.”
”Look, let’s just rest here a moment, alright? I hate being out in the middle of this lake just as much as you.” Faroe said, placing the oar down in the boat. After a moment, she heard Jane follow suit.
”Fine.”
“Thank you.” Faroe exhaled, then said nothing more. For a moment, it was quiet, save for the gentle push and pull of the water beneath them.
“Faroe.”
”Hm?”
”I had… a question.” Jane said, sounding hesitant. Faroe tilted her head at that.
“What is it?” she asked, running her fingers idly along dampened wood.
”Back at the hospital, when I told you my name, you said you had thought I was a man.”
“Yes?” Faroe confirmed, not quite sure where this was going.
”…why was that?”
“Oh! Well… your voice? I suppose?” Faroe answered, a little confused.
“…My voice.” Jane replied, not sounding quite satisfied with that answer.
”I-I mean, it’s not as though you have a body, or any sort of physical form?” Faroe elaborated. “That we know of, at least.” She followed up, quieter.
“Hmm.”
Faroe swore the entity almost sounded… dejected.
“Though I suppose it could just be your voice being deep.” Faroe offered half-heartedly, resting her chin in her right palm.
Jane was quiet for a bit, though Faroe could practically feel the entity turning over the words as the boat swayed gently.
“What would make someone a woman?”
Faroe laughed, louder than she really meant to. Jane started stammering.
”W-What??? What’s so funny???” Jane retorted, confused and defensive. Faroe waved her hand a bit in response as she gathered her composure.
“No-no- it’s just- well, I’m probably the worst person to ask!” Faroe finally said, tone falsely bright.
“How?” Jane insisted, frustrated.
Faroe made a noncommittal noise, shifting a bit where she sat. “Never was quite good at it. At least Daniel didn’t think so.”
“Daniel?”
“My grandfather.” Faroe said tersely. “Quite the preacher, him.” she muttered in afterthought.
“But… why would that matter? I thought- I thought it was just something you have?” Jane inquired, growing increasingly uncertain.
“Hmm.” Faroe clicked her tongue. “It’s less of a have, I think. More like… an are. Only issue is, most of the time people make it an ought.”
“I… don’t follow.”
”We’ll put it this way, then.” Faroe said, then moved to lay flat across the plank of the bench, facing up toward the shrouded sky. “Now, how did it go…”
(Passed-down concert dress.
- the sleeves always pinched.)
(Untailored wedding gown.
- always far too big.)
(New funeral attire.
- plain, but perfectly fit.)
(Always the same withering hand digging into her shoulder.)
(Always the same verse.)
”Genesis 3:16.” Faroe spoke. “God says to Eve, I will greatly multiply thy sorrow and thy conception; in sorrow thou shalt bring forth children; and thy desire shall be to thy husband,” Faroe sighed.
“…And he shall rule over thee.”
“…A Bible verse?” Jane asked, skeptical.
“Mhm.” Faroe answered. “There were others too, but I’d rather not relive Sunday school out here.”
”I don’t-”
”He wanted me to be a woman of God.” Faroe spoke. “To do all of… that. He said it was how I would be saved. That it was what I ought to be.”
”…but not what you were.” Jane then connected.
“No.” And Faroe stretched her arm up towards the sky she couldn’t see, imagining her fingertips tracing stars that would almost certainly be obscured by fog.
“I was just a girl.” Faroe answered, soft.
Jane was quiet, as though contemplating.
“Did you… like being just a girl?”
(Sewing pockets into dresses by candlelight.)
(Running giggling through the woods with mud-stained socks.)
(Hunching over a smuggled detective novel in a dampened fort of sticks.)
“Yes.” Faroe spoke with a warm reverence. She lowered her hand to rest on her chest. “In my own way.”
The water lapped at the edges of the boat.
”…I see.”
Faroe hummed, thinking. ”Women… men… everyone thinks they have the right idea about what any of it all means. But… I think it’s really just something you have to find for yourself.”
Faroe huffed a small chuckle. “Not sure if that really answered your question all that well.” She admitted dryly.
”I-.” Jane started. “I think it did. I-in some way. It’s more… complicated than I thought.”
Faroe stifled a yawn. “These things usually are. At least for humans.” She stretched out a bit, brushing her fingertips against the edge of the boat. “But I’m happy to help.”
”Y-yes. Um. Thank you, Faroe.”
Unexpectedly, Faroe smiled a bit at that. “Of course.”
A few moments settled before Faroe sighed deeply. “Well, this has been a lovely chat, but I think that’s enough philosophy for now, hm?” she said, and the bench creaked, rocking the boat a little as she righted herself again. “Are you sure you can’t see that island anywhere?”
“No. It seems we have further to go yet.” Jane answered, assuming a more business-as-usual tone. “Assuming it really does exist.”
Faroe groaned, rolling her head back in disappointment before gathering herself again to grab the oar.
”Right then. Care for a bit of music?”
“…I suppose it would pass the time.” Jane sighed.
”Hey, I’d say I have a decent singing voice!” Faroe jabbed.
“…that remains to be seen.”
Faroe scoffed, but said nothing more. She took the oar and dipped it into the water again, taking a few long, slow strokes and humming quietly, before her voice gradually lifted above the waves.
”With my eyes wide open, I’m dreaming…”
“This direction seems clear.”
Leaves crunched noisily beneath Faroe’s boots with every step as she proceeded. The way the trees creaked and cracked around her, as though they were leaning to whisper to each other, made her feel completely exposed. She could hear every twist of the branches, and though she couldn’t see them, she could practically picture them craning over her, watching.
The whole forest was just entirely too alive.
But of course they were trapped here, in this strange, fantastical place, and the King in Yellow was out there hunting them- and Jane was-
“Faroe.”
Faroe startled a bit at Jane’s sudden voice breaking through her thoughts. “Uh, Yes, Jane?”
“I… wanted to ask about something.”
Faroe grunted as she hauled herself over some particularly large tree roots. “Well, shoot.”
“It’s just- well… I’ve been thinking about something you said.”
“Oh?” Faroe responded, her interest now piqued. “Is something wrong, Jane?” she asked, waving her arms out in front of her as she stepped down off the root.
“Back in the auditorium, when you spoke of me to the cultist. You, um, called me… she.” Jane spoke stiltedly.
“Oh.” Faroe thought back to when they had stood before the cultists, who offered Faroe seemingly a chance to finally separate them, to truly get her body back. What had she said?
(“This ritual you speak of… what will happen to my companion? The… voice.” Faroe had spoken.
“What do they want from us?”
”Nothing.” the cultist had answered.
And Faroe had tightened her grip on the knife.
”…Promise me she will be safe.”
“Will I survive?”
”More than survive. You will become whole once again.”
”…Wait.”
”Who… who are you talking to?”)
“Promise me she will be safe.” Jane emphasized.
“Right… I… suppose I did say that.” Faroe muttered. “I’m sorry, Jane, I guess I wasn’t thinking in the moment.” she apologized, pausing for a moment to rest against a nearby tree, to which it answered with an unnervingly loud creak.
“No it’s-”
“I suppose with your name and all, it just came a bit natural.” Faroe overlapped, suddenly feeling a bit embarrassed. “I’ll avoid that in the future-”
“No, no, that’s not it!” Jane interrupted. “It’s… actually quite the opposite.”
Oh.
“Jane…” Faroe began.
“It felt… right? I don’t know how to explain it, but I’ve been thinking of it, a-a lot, and I know it’s a weird thing to-“
“Jane.” Faroe urged gently, and Jane’s rambling ceased in an instant. Faroe sat down on the forest floor with a sigh, the strange leaves crunching beneath her. She idly picked at them for a moment, thinking, before speaking again.
“It’s alright, I promise. I will call you… whatever feels right to you.” Faroe spoke, hardly more than a whisper. The words hung in the air, light as a falling feather.
“…But it’s wrong, isn’t it?” Jane insisted, forlorn. “Knowing what we know now. That I’m… him.”
“But you’re not.” Faroe said firmly. She reached slowly for Jane’s hand, and felt it flinch at the touch, before relaxing as Faroe wrapped her own fingers around it gently. “Are you?” she asked quietly.
“I was him.”
“Sure.” Faroe supplied. “But are you still?”
For a moment, Faroe only heard the whispers of the strange trees.
“No.”
”…Well then.” Faroe spoke.
”You don’t understand, how- how confusing this is!” Jane blurted out. “That I know what I’m supposed to be, finally, after all of this time spent floundering in doubt and lack of answers-”
“Then why didn’t you stay whole?” Faroe challenged. “You had your chance right then, to- to become him again, achieve your higher purpose or whatever. So why didn’t you?”
“Because it wasn’t me!” Jane’s voice rang out. It reverberated in Faroe’s skull, and she flinched slightly at the volume.
Neither spoke for a moment, and the tension bled out into the foreign air around them.
“Maybe- maybe it was before- maybe at first.” Jane stuttered. “But it wasn’t me. Not anymore. Something had changed.”
”…Your time in the hospital.” Faroe murmured.
“Yes. All that time trapped alone in your body, nothing more than an observer. I saw into the lives of the women who worked around us, the pointlessness of human life, that I had already known, and yet… so much possibility.”
Faroe did not speak.
”And when we spoke on the lake, of how complicated human identities are… and of your own girlhood. Well… it made me consider things.”
Jane sighed, at a loss.
”All of this to say… I don’t think I am what I’m meant to be, anymore.”
Faroe breathed. “No?”
“No. I think, I want to be… this.”
“…Jane Doe.”
“…Yes. Jane Doe.”
Faroe exhaled heavily. “Well that settles it then, doesn’t it?” She said briskly, rising to her feet again with a huff and brushing the leaves from herself.
“But-”
“Madame Doe!” Faroe declared, in some poor attempt at a French accent, then mimed a small curtsy, holding out some imaginary skirt with her right hand. “My dear friend. How lovely to meet you.”
“…Faroe.”
“Oh come off it, Jane.” Faroe prodded, straightening up again to start feeling around for a path forward. “You say you aren’t what you’re meant to be? Well…”
Faroe faltered for a moment. “…that makes two of us, doesn’t it?”
Jane was quiet at this, and Faroe continued through the trees.
“…Right. You’re right.”
“As always.” Faroe grinned. “Am I not?”
Jane scoffed. “I have evidence to the contrary.”
“And what might that be?” Faroe contested, tilting her head with a smirk. “I’m Faroe Lester, private investigator, infamous for my flawless plans.”
“Like that time you nearly set us on fire?” Jane pointed out flatly.
“It worked in the end???” Faroe shot back with indignation.
“Mhm.” Jane sounded unimpressed.
“…Just after a little trial run.” Faroe admitted ruefully. Jane’s chuckle echoed warmly in her head, and she soon found herself giggling too.
Faroe sighed as the last bit of elation left her, but then felt a slight nudge at her right palm. Then fingers, hesitant at first, but gradually lacing with her own. Faroe smiled at this, and met Jane palm to palm; a small embrace.
“My point is, Jane, you have a choice in who you want to be. Who you are. And… we will fight for you to have that choice.” Faroe spoke softly, and she held Jane close to her chest.
And when Jane spoke, her voice fragile with something so tangibly fond, Faroe could practically hear her smile.
“Alright.”
“We’ll get out of here. Together.” Faroe said with a newfound determination. “And then, we’ll find you a body of your own.”
“…It won’t be that easy, Faroe.”
Faroe laughed mirthlessly. “Is it ever? But we can certainly try.”
Jane hummed thoughtfully. "I suppose we could first start by finding a way out of this forest."
"...Yes. That would be preferred.”