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It was pretty common for Hugo to wake up to the sounds of quiet work being done in the main lab, down the hall from where his room was. He didn't understand how someone could stay awake far into the night and yet also get up before the sun peeked over the horizon line. There were certain things he learned not to question, ironic since Donella mostly encouraged him to ask about everything. But there were these sore spots, the unsaid words that he shouldn't toe, all the hidden rules she wouldn't teach him in addition to the alchemy, science, and thievery.
The boy walked down the hallway purposely loud, letting his foot hit all the squeaky floorboards to inform his mentor of his presence. The first couple of times he snuck up on her she practically jumped three feet in the air. And he swore she puffed up like a cat. "Alright, Don."
He kept his tone peppy, noticing the slight tension in her shoulders. She was never a fan of the nicknames he assigned her, nearly flipped out on him when he first tried. He learned then, Donnie was unacceptable for some reason- Don she could put up with, begrudgingly. Her grumpiness wasn't unprecedented but for some reason, his gut twisted this time. Hugo brightened his grin even more, "What are we working on today?"
"You have the day off," She replied curtly, the ever-present sound of clinking metal and glass underlying her words.
He glanced at the calendar- oh. "Huh- didn't realize the date. Pretty stupid of me, right?" Come on, Don- it would be so easy for her to poke fun at him. They had been getting better, she had been trying harder. It was like he was meeting her again recently, like the woman from his distant childhood was returning. He had missed her so much. She joked with him more, let him into little parts of her past. He saw her first blue ribbon prize, learned about her favorite verses of poetry- he had been introduced to her. But sometimes she'd pull away again, shut him out again.
A shrug, "Sure, Kid. Grab some coins and get yourself something nice." He noticed her organizing, she hadn't been working, she was redoing the ties and labels on some of their ingredient bottles. She cleaned when she was irritated.
"So uh, is there a reason?"
"You usually beg me for a vacation." Donella put the last of her things on the shelf, moving to head to the door and grab her long coat. She took out her small coin pouch and motioned for Hugo to come over, placing a few into his palm before tucking the rest into her inner jacket pocket.
"I just noticed you always give me today off… every year." And then disappeared for a while but he omitted that comment, "What's the reason?"
"Because." She turned on her heel, her green eyes hardening at him for a split second. He noticed the way she clenched her jaw.
His hand met her wrist, he felt her flinch under his touch. "You also get- more grouchy than usual every year. What's up?"
She practically yanked her hand away from him as if he were poison, as if she were disgusted. And all the warmth that had been swirling around him from the previous months, the slight smiles from her and late-night talks and laughing over dinner- drained, and he was that little boy in the lab all over again, begging for the love she wasn't willing, or perhaps able, to give.
Donella looked at him over her shoulder, the cheek without the damaged skin. Her mouth pulled tight, he saw her take in a breath- but for a moment something else flickered in her gaze, something akin to sadness or even remorse, maybe even a request for forgiveness. "It's not for you to worry about, Hugo."
He was about to quip back, the remark already on the tip of his tongue. A snap about how she promised things would improve- she promised- how he had been so happy they were getting closer, how he thought those days were in the past. But he hesitated as her lip quivered, it was the tiniest little flinch- so subtle that anyone could have missed it. It would have been infinitesimal on someone that wasn't Donella, usually so controlled, usually so constant. It was like she was pleading with him- just drop it. Please. Just let me go.
"I'll see you tonight." She muttered, her tone softening- trying to coax itself back into the dynamic they had before. Something almost familial if either of them knew what that meant or was, if either of them weren't so fearful of the term.
Don't ask questions. Do as you're told. I don't have time for you. He felt a pang in her gut as she walked away, her coat whipped up behind her as Donella left, the door shutting tight behind her with a thud. She had bad days. She always did even when he was young. It's just that- and he didn't know if it was for her sake or his own- but he had hoped that they would have disappeared the night she held him close and assured him that she'd do better. He had hoped that she'd find some peace, but apparently, she didn't. "See you tonight."
Down the street, turn the corner- she glared at that crack in the pavement where weeds were starting to push up. It bothered her every time she passed it. She didn't even realize she was playing with her fingers, tugging at them one by one in a methodical manner, until the base of them started to ache- and even then she didn't stop. Taking in a breath, she held it until a fuzzy feeling drifted along in her head, enough to make her hands tingle. Relenting, Donella shoved them into her coat pockets. She had tucked a medium-sized potion bottle with a triangular base there the night before in preparation, along with some other items.
Gritting her teeth made her scars tug, she hated the feeling of stiffness along her cheek. The first vendor came up, she had the payment in hand already. The price was consistent each year, not that the seller didn't increase them- just that he didn't with her. Call it mutual respect if you will. She placed the coins down, he slid her a small cake wrapped neatly in brown paper and twine. It was nothing fancy but- in a place like this- it was a luxury few could justify splurging on.
"How's your boy, Donella?"
The man asked, a mix of pleasant small talk and genuine interest. In the slums, people learned who they could lean on, who they could be friendly with- and everyone knew her in some sort of way. The person they went to if they needed a negotiator with the police, the mediator- bridge- between them and the elite. Plus, if you needed someone's head cracked or a weapon of sorts she could also be of assistance. She didn't have friends but they weren't followers either- wherever interdependence landed them.
"A pain in the ass as always," She replied with a gentle chide- it wasn't a smile but something similar. "He's good, I expect he'll be around later today to pick up some sweets."
"As long as he doesn't scam me," They exchanged not quite a laugh but an acknowledgment of light-hearted banter.
Donella stepped away from the booth, heading deeper into the marketplace. Just because people knew her, knew of her, or respected her didn't mean the stares stopped. She felt the eyes lingering, burning her skin. She resisted the urge to claw at her face- as if that could help- as if she could peel off the imperfections as if they were dried paint. Instead, she fidgeted with her fingers in her pocket, digging her thumbnail into the side of her knuckle.
Finding her next booth, the exchange was rather similar- small talk and coins in trade for a joke and a bouquet of violets. The color was deeply blue, purple undertone- she took the delicate stems in her hands, they stood in stark contrast to the calluses that grew from her palms.
"Flowers for a date?" The woman kidded with her, Donella scoffed and shrugged as she did every year, not an answer.
"Keep dreaming, maybe one day Hugo will fulfill it."
"And not you?"
"You'd sooner provide flowers for my funeral." That got a loud laugh from the seller as she turned and started preparing more bouquets. Donella nodded politely before heading on her way, out of the crowd.
Once the noises dimmed she let out a sigh and went to itch at her scars- only for Hugo's voice to nag in her ear. She curled her fingers back, pushing her knuckles into her face and rubbing. Hey- it was a bit better. And she got a pass for that day- her stomach was twisted in knots, this building feeling of dread when she approached the oak tree. She was far enough away from town that the surrounding land started to seem actually alive- or maybe just barely.
Kneeling, the uneven ground dug into her knees. She closed her eyes- tried to feel the sunlight on her skin, but it was always so cold and she couldn't explain why. A breeze blew by, almost as if it was lifting her chin- almost as if it were holding her face. Donella set the bouquet down, fishing the bottle from her pocket that was filled about halfway with water. Uncorking it, she set it to one side, off-center from the trunk, and placed the flowers in as if it were a vase. Fluffing up the petals, the moment felt odd- too tranquil.
The cake came next, as it did every year, she pulled at the twine and spread out the brown paper with a waxy finish on one side. It was honey-flavored, little bits of cream peeking out from the edges through a coating of nuts. It smelled sweet and left an ache in her throat- that sort of sugar burn.
Finally came the candle. She measured for a second before placing it into the center of the dessert. It was plain- hard enough to get a cake in these parts, getting some sort of decorative candle was near impossible. The lighting device fit into her hand comfortably. She- they designed it when they were kids. It didn't take long for a flame to grow from the wick, making the wax around it take on a shine.
Donella sat back a bit, noting the empty space that sat to the left of the flowers and directly behind the cake. She reached into her inner pocket, hands shaking when she removed the journal. A lump was forming in her throat, she swallowed it hard and closed her eyes when opening to the back cover. She didn't know why she did that, blinded herself, it wasn't like she didn't know what she'd be seeing.
Propping the book up, she used a rock to keep the other pages from fluttering. Her gaze lingered on the flame as it danced about, her hands curled into fists in her lap. And she looked. Wild hair, freckles, a smile that could light up the darkest room- her eyes held a spark in them, as if she were still alive. But it was only a photograph, that was all she had left. Hundreds of them stuck into the pages of research journals she was too scared to open but too remorseful to throw away. So they stayed. Collecting dust. Like them.
In that particular image, the shorter had pulled her close. Donella herself was sitting, her friend throwing an arm over her shoulders, pressing her cheek against her temple, and almost draping over her for the pose. They looked- no- they were happy. Maybe that was why she chose that one in memorial.
It was proof, in a way. Proof to herself, to the universe, that they were. Maybe it had already passed, maybe it would never happen again, maybe they were forever bound to follow their respective strings of time to opposite ends of the earth- but it was once. It was. And she ruined it just to prove to herself that it was real, that it was something she could lose.
"Happy Birthday," Her breath hitched, choked out the last word, "Ulla," That was all she could say every year, no luck for the future, no hope for brighter times. There were no well wishes for the dead. Just- a date. The breeze came back, the candle flickered out. That was all.
~~
A watched pot never boiled and a watched clock never reached the time you wanted it to. And yet she couldn't help it, staring at the hands as they moved in their constant circular path. She glanced at her calendar again, her stomach twisting itself into knots as she did her best to focus on the task in front of her. She had orders to pack and quality check for Demanitus' sake- But even so, worry pricked at her mind.
The door flew open loudly, it would have hit the wall if she hadn't installed a doorstop for that exact reason. She caught a glimpse of blond hair in the reflection of a metal firearm she was putting the final touches on. "You're late." Her tone leaned more towards annoyed than concerned- it had to. This was work, no personal matters- she couldn't risk losing control, not about this.
"Just by a few minutes," He replied back, trying to get a rise out of her. She was always so cold these days, empty.
"I thought I taught you punctuality, Hugo."
He didn't like the way she said his name, it was so formal- where was the joking chide in her tone when she ruffled his hair and called him Kid? Where was the mild shock and laugh at how tall he had gotten over the years? He swallowed the lump in his throat and replaced it with bitterness. "Yeah yeah- I have the report if you want it."
Setting the paper down, he noticed how she didn't even look- like she didn't even care- like she was somehow afraid of it. "Why do you give so much of a shit about this Library?" He muttered, catching the subtle tension building in Donella's hand at his question. "Varian said it was just some- other dimension or whatever. Books and boring stuff, you have enough of that."
At this point, he would have taken one of her lectures on the importance of knowledge, a retelling of her younger days when she was a renowned researcher. But even that came up dry. She didn't even turn his way, gritting her teeth and itching at her face.
"Thanks for the report, grab some food before you go."
His feet started to head for the kitchen without him even thinking about it- when did it become so ingrained in him to listen to her? He stopped in the middle of the room, turning and watching her work. She seemed disheveled, in relation to how she usually was. A few stray hairs peeked out from her braid, her desk had some spare paper notes on it that weren't organized into a journal. Maybe that was a normal state for most but not her- Not prim and poised Donella who lined up her pencils and tools perpendicular to the desk’s edge. "You're avoiding the question!"
She hesitated again, "Hugo, I'm really busy right now- can we not have this conversation?"
"Why do you care about the Library!" He eventually just snapped, watching how her shoulders tensed, "Why do you care? And why do you pretend like you don't? For Demanitus' sake Don- I grew up with you! I know you!" The blond pinched the bridge of his nose, a habit he picked up from her.
"I don't need to explain myself to you!" Her voice rose for a second- it wasn't even a yell, more like a stern tut, but it sent a shiver down Hugo's spine. Maybe it was the way she said it, always so precise, keen like a blade- maybe it was because she so rarely lost her composure.
The woman turned around, she had bags under her eyes. Her lips pulled into a tight frown- she almost barred her teeth at him when she spoke. Taking in a sharp breath, Donella inhaled and then exhaled, regaining some level to her tone. "And frankly, you know less than you think about the world-" She paused for a second, her green eyes darkening like a dying lantern as they focused on him, "And you know nothing about me."
That hurt. Hugo swallowed hard, the motion stinging his throat all the way to his chest. His heart squeezed with a pang, "Stop pushing me away!" He hated how his voice broke like he was small again, like he was weak again- "Stop- I thought we talked about this! I thought- Don't you trust me?"
Donella narrowed her eyes, "Not enough, it seems. Sometimes things don't concern you." She dusted off her hands as if they were covered with a phantom film, "I should have taught you that, my mistake."
"This does concern me!" The word echoed in his ears, mistake, mistake, mistake. "You're being weird."
"What does that have to do with your mission? What do I have to do with any of this? Your mission is to stop Varian!" She slammed her fist down on the table, the vials resting on top clattered a bit as she did so. Hugo jumped- not that he was scared of her- it was more concern than anything. He cowered a bit at the look in her eyes, like fire that could burn him alive. Donella took a step towards him, near desperation in her gaze. He didn't like when she got like this. "You must stop him from entering the Eternal Library at all costs! Do you understand me?"
He nodded quickly. "I know I know I just- I just wanted to know why-"
"You don't need to know why to do your job!" Her voice cracked, "And you don't need to know anything about me! Just do your job!"
"Is that all I am to you?" It wasn't wise to ask questions he didn't want the answer to, "Is this just a business transaction to you?"
Donella's gaze faltered, she opened her mouth- hesitated- then turned away. She should have just done her job. She shouldn't have gotten close, shouldn't have risked it. She should have just been his boss, she should have just been her research partner. She should have just done her job.
The silence was deafening, Hugo hated how his face heated up and throat closed a bit as he choked out the plea. "I thought things were going to be different. I thought you changed for the better."
She wouldn't look at him, wouldn't turn around. Her bottom lip quivered, she didn't want him to see how she blinked her eyes quickly. They stung. "Then I am sorry I’m not who you want me to be."
No response, she heard the click of the door as it opened then closed. And she was alone again.
~~
Pages of scattered journals, notes, and books were strewn around the lab. It looked as if a wind had come and knocked everything about. Her workspace was never cluttered like this- say what you wanted about Donella but she was always composed, always clean, always prepared. But now- her hair was a bit messier, it was clear she hadn't been sleeping at all, and her scars looked worn, irritated, red.
"It has to- It has to say something!" She snapped to no one at all, ruffling through the pages. Surely they had something- Her eyes scanned over the pages, watching the two handwritings mix together in a perfect symphony of ink and graphite. Their journals- their research must tell her something. It would tell her that the spell she used when corrupted, was irreversible- she knew that. It would tell her that the Eternal Library's totems couldn't be destroyed- she tried that. It would tell her that there was no way a soul could survive without a body. It had to tell her that.
But even as she searched, Donella knew it was futile. And she knew that despite the knowledge and the facts and the figures she wouldn't believe it even if they confirmed her hopes. Because deep down, as much as she hated to admit it, she knew that if Ulla died she would have carried an immeasurable hollow on her shoulders. And she knew that if she were truly gone she would have felt it in her bones and in her chest through her entire body and the moon would have glowed a little dimmer and the breeze wouldn't tickle against her skin anymore. She knew that if Ulla had truly died, she would have too- a piece of her anyways.
She didn't even notice that the door opened. That was a bad sign. She was always so sharp, so with it, so alert. She was the one person Hugo could never truly sneak past, even though he spooked her sometimes. And yet here she was, lost- somewhere far away where he couldn't reach. Sometimes he wondered if that was what it'd be like with her, never being able to sit by her side because she was always in her head- because her mind always had something more beautiful.
Sadly, her current state only confirmed what he was about to do. "Donella," He started, watching how she lifted her head and spun towards him. Her eyes were blazing- they scared him- like that of a wild animal taking its last stand while injured.
"Hugo!" She seemed startled and smoothed down her hair, "I didn't- you're not supposed to be here right now. It's not report day."
"I-" And he hesitated, a part of him did at least- that little boy who needed nothing more than to climb into her lap and listen to her read. The kid who only wanted her to tend to his wounds because she did so with such care. The teenager who, despite running around the town without rules, always came back home before it got too late because he knew she stayed up waiting for him. She waited for him. But that side of him was gone, and maybe she was too. He swallowed hard, put his shoulders back. "I don't report to you anymore, Donella."
A sickening air came over the room, eerily quiet as he watched her eyes blink, then take in his words, then straighten to give him her full attention. She stood in the middle of the wreckage- a strange calm in the storm like the eye of a hurricane. "What?" That one syllable was so precise, so sharp when it came from her lips with an almost snap at the end.
He gulped, pictured that other boy's face, bright blue eyes and freckles that looked like stars, and he mustered his courage. "I can't keep betraying Varian. I-" Hugo sucked in a breath, he hadn't said this out loud to anyone. Somehow it still felt right to confide in Donella, even like this, "I love him! And I think he loves me! And I'm going to help him find the Eternal Library and learn about his mother whether you like it or not!"
The words tumbled over his tongue rapidly. He stopped to compose himself, realizing that he had balled up his fists to his side and shrunk in on his center like a child being scolded. Forcing his gaze up, he watched how still she stood, how blank her face was. How she blinked at him as if to make sure it was real.
Donella felt the world go dark, the sounds echoing in her ears. She failed him. He fell in love with Ulla's son- he fell down her path- she doomed him. Her scars burned on her cheek, she bit the inside of her mouth harshly. The taste of iron coated her tongue.
"You think he loves you?" She replied slowly, her words turning into a growl as her eyes narrowed and she pushed away whatever sadness, remorse, or regret started to pile up. And she hid behind walls of anger and ice. She wasn't thinking- how mistakes repeated themselves. "Then you're dumber than I thought."
His mouth ran dry at her harshness, part of him wanted to protest- tell her that she didn't mean it. Or maybe he was trying to tell himself that the woman who raised him, the one he trusted with his life and then some, didn't just say that to him. But still, stubbornness was always his downfall, and probably hers too. "You don't know him! I do- I'm going to tell him the truth, he'll understand. He- he gets it."
That night sitting by the fire, the orange glow drew shadows across Varian's face as he recounted his time in prison- his fall from the light. He would understand, he would! He knew what a second chance was.
Her first response was to wrinkle her nose in disgust- at what she wasn't sure. Was it his stupidly blind optimism? His naivete that was going to earn him a rude awakening? Or was it that she saw pieces of herself in him? Go back to the Library- Ulla would forgive her- they could make things right. Granted she was never as hopeful as him to act on those thoughts, they merely tormented her in a flurry of what-ifs.
"You think he'll understand?" She practically spat out. The words shot off her tongue, she couldn't stop them- all the anger, resentment, as if she were speaking to her past self, scolding that foolish girl for ruining her life by being so stupidly hopeful. Oh sure, they could have one more adventure- one more grand escapade before falling into a life of routine. Because Ulla loved her. She loved her so she would understand. After all, they'd be friends forever- no matter what, as they'd say. It was all so sickeningly optimistic. It was all her fault for playing into it. For falling for it. If she met that girl again- she didn’t know what she’d say.
And she couldn't find the words to explain herself without revealing that- She couldn't find a way to pull him close without revealing her own broken pieces. So she pushed him away, trying to force him back from the edge which she herself teetered on. "You think he'll ever forgive you for what you've done to him?!"
For the first time since he could remember, her voice rose. Truly rose into a shout. Hugo felt his blood run cold, he took a small step back. "He- I- Varian is a good person!"
"Do you honestly think this is about goodness?" She scoffed and pinched the bridge of her nose. That disembodied spirit trapped in the Library. She could hear her voice echoing through time. 'Please, Donnie- I'm so sorry I promise I didn't mean it. Hate me forever, never talk to me again- just please! My baby needs me! I need to get back to Varian! I’m so sorry, Donella- please! Please don’t leave me here!' The line always blurred, did she snuff out a light or vanquish a darkness? Oh how the good, Ulla was the only good she had ever known, fell from grace.
Donella gritted her teeth, a chill shot up her spine, blinking back hot tears. She forced her hand away from her face, balling it into a tight fist. Her nails pressed crescent-shaped indentations into her palm. "You betrayed him, Hugo! That's unforgivable- You should have understood that!"
“He loves me!”
“Do you think love has ever made anyone stay?” Her voice wavered, not a lot but just enough for Hugo to pick up on something she wasn’t telling him. Donella turned away from him, turned her back to him, and walked over to her desk- away from the mess of pages she had thrown to the floor. She rested her palms on the wooden surface, “Love is a phase- it’ll pass.” If you were lucky. It would pass if you were lucky. Unfortunately, chance wasn’t very fond of her. “The only person you have is yourself.” Her words became muttered, she took in a breath and closed her eyes. Her lashline grew wet, she blinked quickly to dispel it. “You can leave, but don’t go to him. Anything but that.”
He narrowed his eyes while staring at her gray braid, hating the way she brushed him off. Was it so much to ask for her to fight for him? For the years they had- for what they were once? Demanitus, was it so much to ask for her to care about him just the slightest? “Just because you don’t believe love exists doesn’t mean-”
“I know it doesn’t! For your own sake, don’t go to him.”
“You don’t tell me what to do anymore. We’re done, Donella!”
“Why can’t you just listen to me for once, Ull-” She stumbled over the name, shaking her head sharply to pull herself from the past as she sucked in a breath and cleared her throat. Her voice had cracked on it and for a second so did her steely cold demeanor, revealing something more vulnerable, hurt, underneath. But it quickly disappeared. “Hugo.”
He didn’t think before the next words flew from his mouth, “Just because you’re unlovable doesn’t mean I have to be! I’m nothing like you!”
Once the last syllable left his lips, it was as if both of them froze in time. She didn’t know if she was breathing, she didn’t know how many seconds had passed. It was complicated, on the one hand, she had hoped he’d never be like her, on the other- hearing her own suspicions about herself confirmed out loud nearly drained all her blood from her body. It hurt- the sharp throbbing sort of pain that spread rapidly.
Hurricanes were coined after people. When she was young she figured it was comforting that way, to give the storm a kinder name as it passed, something familiar. As if that softness could teach it to go against its destructive nature. As if wishing could change anything. But now, ironically it was people who taught her that disasters were named after them for a reason- for they were one and the same.
Lifting her chin, she turned around slowly- meeting the boy’s eye. If everyone wanted- if it was easier for her to be the villain in this story, then so be it. And when her redemption or demise came in the form of death, then that’d be precisely what she deserved. For no one grieved what couldn’t be loved, there was no mourning without it. His gaze widened, face growing pale as she spoke with eerie control, “Then don’t be surprised when I don’t hold back anymore.” A growl mixed into her words, she almost barred her teeth at him, “Get out of my face.”
“Don- I’m so sorry- I didn’t mean-”
He attempted to reach out towards her. Donella stared at his hand, and suddenly it wasn’t his anymore. Suddenly it was glowing blue gems as they lashed out for her face, cutting open her skin and leaving blood dripping down her chin. She flinched hard- her scars were burning again- they flared up over the years. No matter how much better she thought she got, the Library always pulled her back with a vengeance. No matter how much she healed, how hard she tried to run, it would seem her grief was made up of only starts, never ends.
She had to get the feeling away- she had to get him away from her! Without thinking her hand grabbed a glass beaker, empty, from her table, smashing it on the ground between them. She wasn’t aiming at Hugo, didn’t even come close to hitting him, but the sound and the impact caused him to stumble back.
“Get out!” She snapped, her eyes ablaze.
The boy fumbled, he nearly tripped over his own feet as he frantically scrambled towards the door. It slammed shut behind him. And he was gone.