Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Antoine likes his friends. It hits him, like those moments often do, in the middle of nothing, as they're preparing to do the entrance shot. Baghera keeps tripping on the uneven stairs, glaring at Etoiles who does nothing but mock her misery. Aypierre is to the side, fixing up the camera, and he thinks 'Yes, this is it. I have a place here.' The concept of place still feels a little foreign, even after 2 years of trying to be human. (Humans are amazing, the way they all stay in one place at a time and do not feel any pain. It fills him with something close to jealousy: the space constantly pulls at him, begging him to expand quick quick quick-) He's glad he thought of a cardboard box to cover his head: no amount of frantic googling 'how many teeth normal human' would have saved his skin.

Baghera is starting to inch just a little bit too close to the cam wire for Antoine not to see the future strangling coming. "Baguera." He calls, and waits for her to turn. "You should wait until we are inside, it would look like an accident."

"Thanks!" She giggles, and you would think they were the ones causing chaos with how bloodthirsty she looks.

Etoiles falls to the ground with a groan. "Everyone hates me. I've been betrayed and wounded, left for nothing."

"The camera is recording, you great warrior of darkness." The second he hears Aypierre, Etoiles springs back to life with a quiet 'Oh shit' before settling in his favorite position to begin their videos, arms crossed looking into the distance. He thinks it makes him look badass, but Antoine personally thinks it makes him look grumpy, like the cat he often sees on the Internet.

"Hi, guys! So today we're visiting the... wait what's it called again?" Baghera cuts her professional voice to look at them. Antoine shrugs, never bothering to learn them. (Names change so fast, a blink and suddenly they're gone). "Pretty sure it starts with a B" Aypierre unhelpfully provides, with the sort of smile telling 'I might know, but seeing you flailing around is much more enjoyable.'

This is the eighth manor they've visited this month, so they're bound to make mistakes, here and there. They don't usually cover this much, but they've been trying to prepare in advance since their vacations are coming soon. "Whatever bro, we'll just add that au montage, can we go inside?" Etoiles' blood is probably boiling, itching for some fight. They haven't been successful much these past videos, in terms of actual ghost sighting. Oh, they did find some ghosts, yes, but they all ran away seeing Etoiles' face light up with joy, a kid given Christmas gifts a bit too early.

(There was a stronger one, on the third house. Perhaps a tad too strong. It strangely... fled, after a bit of a fight. It was extra hard, keeping his fingers count at 5 per hand, that night.)

"Yeah sure, okay." Baghera breathes in again, before going through their usual spiel. Antoine doesn't tend to participate, in the beginning. He mostly keeps to himself and adds a few sarcastic remarks here and there. The camera gets fuzzy, if he stays in focus too much. (He also has... different problems to solve, when ghost hunting. Mostly making sure the ghosts stay the hunted. ) They go for an overdramatic entrance, Etoiles bursting through the doors while Baghera holds the flashlight steady.

This has the unfortunate consequence of dropping a literal cloud of dust on their head, making them cough their lungs out. Well, Antoine doesn't need to breathe, but he coughs in sympathy. The inside looks even worse than it smells, which is somewhat incredible. They cut the camera, waiting to set up their things before turning it on again. The floor creaks under Baghera's feet, exploded glass littered on the ground. "Everyone mind your- Antoine." She looks up from the ground, a tight smile on her face. Oh shit. "Antoine, did you forget your shoes again?" Dammit. It's just so hard, to remember every little thing. To his left, Etoiles laughs out a 'again?'. Hilarious. "Come on. Shoes are useless!"

Pierre doesn't bother looking up from the talkie-walkie he's been tinkering with. (He's been trying to tune it to ghost frequencies to 'communicate'. Antoine has seen him close the Rick Asley tab on his phone. He knows damn well where this is going.) "At least make the fans pay to see your feet, we could make some cash on it."

"I already have an Onlyfan for that, you know it Aypierre." The smile on the other's face turns sharp, while the other two make retching noise in the background. "Oh really? Have you seen mi-"

Baguera cuts the short. "Midnight is coming, we need to at least have an event or something." Pierre takes the switch of the subject with ease. "You want me to ask Faster to put an old clock sound in the vid?"

She gets the idea, immediately brightening up. "Oh yeah, like" She deepens her voice to match the one horror presentators often do. "Midnight has come. And, with it, a lot more danger for the young explorers." Victory! With her sufficiently distracted, he can forgo annoying shoes. Antoine leaves them to their talk, and plops on the ground next to Etoiles, typing on his phone. "What are you doing?"

"I'm texting Philza. He's been considering helping with the kids, but he has no one to babysit Chayanne and Tallulah."

The mention of the kids sours the atmosphere. "So he's been asking you?"

"Yup," Etoiles doesn't look too happy at that. "You know how I am with kids. I'm shittt." An elbow to his guts makes him yelp. So much for the strong warrior. "Don't say that. Yeah, you're probably a bit too ugly for them but Chayanne likes you." He mumbles out a "Connard" before dropping his phone back into his pocket and getting up. The French weren't there for most of it, but the heavy subject of the missing kids was still weighing on the community. Antoine himself hadn't given it more thought. Kids weren't his favorite thing in the world, and none of it really affected him apart from the reactions of the others. Humans were made to be social creatures, unlike him. He had to take pieces here and there, manipulate himself into wanting connections. It still failed sometimes.

"Why are you staring at the wall, idiot? Pierre called us over 2 minutes ago." There's a hand outstretched to him, waving in his face. He takes it, and Etoiles gets him up, not mentioning the extra weight. (His thoughts tended to make him heavy, in the literal sense. The first time he tried to understand love, the ground cracked ominously under his feet. He hasn't really tried since.) He doesn't let go of his hand until they're about to enter the living room, a huge thing full of rotten furniture. Being human is so much effort, but moments like these make it all worth it.

The rest of the manor is disappointing. There is a ghost, no doubt of that, but it's pitifully weak, barely hanging on. When Etoiles sees it, he deflates. "The world hates me. That's it. First I get diabetes and now I'm cursed. I should just take the L, man." Antoine pats his shoulder. "Next one is for you Rayou, I'm sure you'll get a big bad demon."

They don't bother chasing the ghost. The owner asked them, but it's obvious the little thing is about to go anyway, flickering in and out of sight. Interacting with the world has different levels of difficulty, yes, but staying visible is barely level one. As Etoiles says, it's 'as easy as beating your ass in smash.' (It's not Antoine's fault the controllers are too damn small. And there are so many buttons too. And so many characters. And- The first time Etoiles asked him to play, he almost broke the TV, switch, and controller. They carefully do not mention the hole in Baghera's wall.)

It's pretty clear the owners let the building go to shit and blamed it all on the ghost here. Wouldn't be surprising if they put the ghost in here too. Owners still alive do get a cut of their videos. It happens.

They still get some good shots, chasing the thing through the hallways. The highlight of their day, or well, night is when water suddenly bursts through the wall so hard it even makes Antoine flinch. They'd all be drenched, if not for Etoiles' fast reflexes jerking them back. (As much as they like to bully him, he is good at what he does.) Baguera's screech, coupled with Aypierre's fake scream of terror, echoes in the whole manor.

"What the fuck!" She watches, bewildered, as the water slowly drips, no doubt running out after so long without access to the reserve. Etoiles is scanning their surroundings, immediately into combat mode, waiting for the threat.

"Oh, would you look at that... Looks like the owner didn't take good care of his pipes." Pierre's smile tells it all. Baguera's face goes through the five stages of grief, before settling on homicidal rage. She punches him, lightly because they're used to his antics by now but still. "Why would you do that." She fakes cry, "I felt my heart leaving my chest Pierre. I was ready to see the light and-"

"You did that?" Etoiles exclaims, still shaking down the adrenaline. "Stop fucking with the pipes, bro. I almost attacked a wall, do you know how lame that sounds?"

"Yeah stop fucking the pipes bro, you have other options." Despite his joking, Antoine is still a bit disgruntled. He doesn't like water that much, not since Baghera made some joke about fish when he was still new to the human bit, and in order to understand it he had gone into the sea. 3 thousand meters deep, he'd started to realize that the common concept of fish might not probably refer to those. They certainly didn't seem to have a short memory, chasing after his cardboard box. It ended up soggy and scratched, much to his dismay. He's been swearing off water ever since.

Aypierre rolls his eyes. "It'll look great on the video. Let's just put it on the ghost." Baghera is the first to crack up, no longer able to maintain her anger. Soon they all follow.

The presence haunting the place doesn't seem to like that. It's a man, most likely coming from the Victorian era judging by his clothes. He must be confused, and perhaps pissed off, seeing them laugh and joke around. Antoine can feel his anger grow the longer they stay. He's not that worried. The worst thing he could do would be a bruise or something close to it. Anger does tend to make them stronger, but not by the wide margin it would require for him to become dangerous.

(Ghosts too weak to notice Antoine's here are not worth the effort.)

They go back to their little camp near the entrance and he can feel the last straw snap when the man realizes they're gonna spend the night here. It's standard protocol, they do it for all the houses (Except the really moldy ones. Etoiles and Baghera fell sick once, so they're not risking it anymore.) but ghosts tend to be possessive of what they deem theirs.

Antoine feels it before he sees it, a prickle of energy -intent power release anger pay- and he barely has the time to let out a "Bags-" before the ghost pounces, probably seeing her as the weakest. He nods to Etoiles, watching him settle back into being relaxed in the same fraction of time it took for him to be alert. She needs it, and it better the ghosts than them. Aypierre wordlessly turns on the cam, before focusing on her.

She looks up, narrowing her eyes before swiftly raising her fist to the man's cheek, knocking him flat out. Touching a ghost is a hard task, but not an impossible one. It just requires a lot of concentration and some awareness, but that can also be a spur-of-the-moment type of thing. After all, no concentration is better than the moment your brain decides you're in mortal danger.

(It makes Antoine curious. The human brain is so fascinating, all wrinkled and pink, shooting neurons zapping through tissues and flesh. Instincts, in particular, are delightful little things. Their hair used to rise up before, whenever Antoine entered the room. An instinctual need to fight the threat and save their lives. He's never felt this type of thing. It ceased after a while. They probably got used to it.)

"Sorry, were you trying something darling?" She almost purrs, all sweet poison. She's been a bit unhinged, ever since she came back from that vacation with Cellbit.

Etoiles lets his face fall into his hands, irritated. "That was so bad your form was so shit! Look at that!" He mockingly imitates her, wiggling his arm like a noodle. "Oh ta gueule!" She yells before throwing herself at him.

"Ten bucks she wins." Antoine glances at Pierre, amused. "I don't take losing bets." They start moving again when Baghera puts away her weird water gun, Etoiles unmoving on the floor.

It's getting late, close to 3 A.M, so they decide to call it a night. They drag the ghost out of the room, still unconscious. It probably took a lot out of him, to manifest like that, and the punch Baghera threw had not helped. Judging from his state, Antoine would not be surprised if he evaporated come morning.

They tend to sleep close, each in their sleeping bag. They don't quite pile up, but it's not unusual for them to wake up with a mouth full of hair (Thanks Baghera) or an arm thrown their way. Usually, Antoine does not sleep. Didn't understand the concept until he realized humans needed it to survive.

On any other night, he likes to wander. He used to leave his body behind at first, until Baghera tried to shake him awake and didn't feel a pulse. That hadn't been fun to explain. Nowadays, he prefers to go to the moon, dragging his fleshy body with him. It's peaceful up there, and he can sometimes nibble on a faraway star. (Somewhere, an unlucky astronomist discovers his favorite star is gone. Well.) He's pretty sure he gave a heart attack to the first astronaut who discovered him. He hadn't meant to forget humans could go to space now.

But these nights, they're special. He likes to let his eyes wide open, taking the sight of oxygen through capillaries, air through lungs, microscopic cells moving through the whole body. He likes to listen to the steady heartbeats, a flow of bam bam bam, and soft breaths slowing down.

Well, that is, before Baghera wakes up and shakes one of them awake. "Hypothetically, if I was able to have eggs-" Most of the time, it's Antoine on 'questions' duty. "You can't have eggs."

She squints her eyes at him, not quite fully awake. "Yeah, but hypothetically."

"Hypothetically I'm gonna strangle you with your pillow" Etoiles mumbles to their left. Like always, the whole group gets involved.

"Like chicken eggs?" Pierre's face turns thoughtful. "What would you do with it?"

"Yeah! Well if you'd let me explain, it would be like this..."

They don't go to sleep until 5 A.M. Their conversation slowly tampers off, turning nonsensical and Antoine is left with the tick tick of the watches and the bam bam of their heart. It's a different kind of peace than going up the moon alone, but it's peaceful all the same.

-

Once the morning comes, it's only a matter of habits. They pack up quickly, letting the owner deal with the destroyed pipes. Kameto usually makes them sign some papers, and Antoine has been told they're 'legally binding'. He doesn't really get the binding part, but it means any damage won't be out of their pockets.

They pile up in their dingy van, unremarkable and falling apart. You would think the number one ghost hunters of the country would have better equipment, but they like it like that. And it has the benefit of making it harder for their fans to recognize them. Some of them are brand new types of crazy, but it's bound to happen when you got a couple millions. Antoine doesn't get their appeal. The fans have taken to call him the 'cryptid one' which is strange in his opinion. He's a pretty simple person.

The travel back is uneventful, fighting over the music and trying to survive Aypierre's driving. He could be a safe driver, but he likes to play with danger. But then, all of them are varying degrees of disaster on the road, so Aypierre stays the safest bet. Antoine technically has a license, but the instructor only gave it to him if he swore never to drive again so he's not sure.

Baghera's house is where they usually unwind, a pretty little thing in the middle of nowhere. It's pleasant from the outside, but stepping in reveals the truth: the interior was never finished. There are still boxes, similar to the one on his head, littering the ground. Staying in one place too long makes her anxious, she confessed to them after some light jokes. She doesn't really know why but she just has the instinct to run away. Seeing government officials make it even worse.

But today's a party: they're finally getting their vacation! 2 whole weeks uninterrupted. Antoine is not that sad about it. Without anything to do, he will probably cease to exist for a little while. Might be rejuvenating. Reset his bones or something like that.

Wine ready, at least for Baghera and Aypierre, and mostly unedited footage sent, they can finally relax and eat those fancy little crackers Baghera stole. It's so satisfying to hear them crack under his teeth, little crumbs exploding in his mouth in a loud crunch crunch crunch that makes Baghera roll her eyes. At least Aypierre and the others have stopped trying to peek under his cardboard box while he's eating.

It's 1 P.M. but they don't care, their schedules broken enough. Right as Antoine cracks his seventeenth little snack, Etoiles' phone rings out a sharp cry that makes them all jump. He disentangles himself from Baghera's legs and passes right by Aypierre, sitting at the counter like a proper 'capitalist' enjoying his totally slave-free wine, to get his phone.

(They all know the process is automatized. Didn't stop Baghera from lamenting those 'poor little employees' and immediately try to form a union for them. Antoine joined because it seemed fun, but he doesn't really see the problem. None of those little machines have a soul. Not like that thing.)

He picks up, silently mouthing 'Kameto' at them, as they all perk up trying to listen in. Kameto is not often with them, busy with his work, but he's still included in their hangout group sometimes. He joined them recently, a few months ago, offering to be their middleman. Now he finds them haunted houses and makes deals, and they share a part of the cuts. He also asked for the raw unedited footage of each vid, a bit strange but Antoine figures he just wants to check them, just in case.

"Hey, how you're doing bro?" Etoiles is the only one of them who knew Kameto before this, meaning he's often the one receiving calls. Antoine stretches his hearing, just barely above the human range, and ignores the low hum of the electricity going through the house, the click click click of Etoiles' pump, and all the noises hitting him all at once: he has a mission.

Kameto sounds pressed for time, a bit out of breath. "Hey dude I'm sorry to bother you but there's been-" Antoine is snapped out of his listening by Baghera's elbow digging into his side. "What's he saying?" She whispers loudly, as he hisses at her. "I would have known if you had waited two minutes!" They whisper-shout at each other before Aypierre interrupts. "He wants us to do another job."

"What, like add it to the waiting list?" He shakes his head. "No like, right now." Baghera falls from the couch. A strangled 'right now!?' escapes her as she topples over. At least her glass was empty. Etoiles ends his call with a displeased frown on his face. "Damn it. That's what I get for being nice. 'Oh Etoiles you're so cool, you're so great!' non je suis juste le bouffon du coin enfait." He turns to them.

"Aypierre told you right?" They nod. "First of all, stop tapping my phone man." The other raises his hands in the air, an innocent look (well as innocent as Aypierre can be. Which is admittedly not a lot.) on his face. Etoiles just flicks a peanut at him. "Yeah, Kameto's got a huge favor to ask, says he's gonna extend our vacation by a week if we do it."

Baghera groans. "Eurgh, fine, fine what's the house?" Aypierre grins behind his glass, before showing the screen of his phone. "You guys aren't gonna like that part."

There's a silence for a beat and then. "Fourteen? Fourteen houses in a night?" A steadying breath. "... Does he want us to do a vid for each one?"

"No, that's the weird part! He said no recording or anything like that." Etoiles seems clearly puzzled by it too. "Kind of sus if you ask me." Aypierre's not wrong. They're mostly a YouTube group, why discard any recordings? Antoine turns it over in his head. Is Kameto secretly leading an estate agency and waiting for the houses to be ghost-free before selling them? That seems a bit convoluted. Maybe not that far out of the ordinary, judging by the Ace Attorney games Etoiles lets him play.

"So what? We just pop in and check if there are ghosts?" Etoiles shrugs. "Yeah, something like that I guess." And so, with a shared sigh, they start to pack.

When they exit the house, a stray paper flies into Antoine's face, stuck against his box. He takes it out with a grumble, catching up with the others. There is a little girl smiling at him, with two messy braids and huge glasses. Juanaflippa, the paper says, MISSING in all capital letters. The date is from 5 months ago, and Antoine crumbles the paper before throwing it out. It's like the movie Baghera showed him, Peter Pan. She'll never grow up.

Etoiles reveals a bit more details on the way. "So, apparently we don't even get to chase them away. He wants us to just like... Call him if we see anything out of the ordinary."

"What's he gonna do, vacuum their asses?"

"Man, could you imagine?" They all snicker. The first house is close by, 20 minutes away. They're all close actually, a tight group of buildings. Are they trying to clean each house, or are they chasing something in particular? Their goal seems imprecise as hell, and Antoine can feel the energy build up near them. It's a tiny drip drip drip, but as they get closer to the block the hum grows stronger and stronger. There is definitely a something there, but it's a matter of what. Antoine's loyalty has always been first to his friends. As of now, Kameto might not be one of them. If the something proves to be dangerous to them, well.

(Antoine has teeth shifting against his pink-red molars. Rows of them, if he's not careful enough. They beg him to grow and eat, a never-ending whisper. He's always been hungrier than most.)

The first ones don't give much results, if not making them feel uneasy. Not because of any ghosts, but because those rooms are lived in. They can see clothes on the floor and hastily packed stuff all around the place. One house even has a meal still set on the table, and when Etoiles lightly drags his fingers around the edge of one bowl, it comes out warm and wet. Less than an hour ago, there were people here. It brings a pressing matter to their attention: what is exactly Kameto's power here, evacuating an entire neighborhood? Even Etoiles is a bit aghast, quietly admitting 'I don't know.' to the questions in their eyes.

The third house has a ghost in it, but upon mentioning it's an old man, some kind of grandpa watching over his grandchildren perhaps, they get asked to keep searching. So they are looking for something specific then, and Antoine has an inkling it ties up to the something he felt and is still feeling. Its energy pulses, sounding frantic and lost.

He gets his answer when they enter the thirteenth house, 'unlucky' Pierre murmurs. The atmosphere immediately changes as soon as they go through the door. Antoine can see it in the way Etoiles' eyes get tight and searching, muscles twitching at the potential danger, the way Baghera shivers from the cold in the middle of the day, and the way Aypierre grabs the salt in his pocket. (Salt barely tickles him, but he's seen firsthand how it can sizzle and burn the skin of an overconfident ghost. Not a pretty sight)

The house gets weird, almost immediately. The owner had a minimalistic style, usually helpful to them as it makes it less cluttered, but it's now turning into a headache. Hallways blend into each other, cul-de-sac everywhere, they even circle back to the entrance door, now leading into the air, out of the second floor. Antoine can feel it shifting underneath them, moving along desperate pleas of the something haunting the place. It feels more powerful than a ghost, which is a bit odd. The last time he felt something different like this was a year ago, shaking the hand of their neighbor, Badboyhalo. He had a knowing glint in his eyes, but neither of them spoke of it.

Antoine should put an end to this, but he is curious. The thing... it almost sounds like it's crying, whatever they are. He tries to reach out, a thin tendril of shadows -hello?- but the house screams, so hard it makes the walls bleed. They've come to a stop, standing in the living room that isn't. Cell reception isn't working, so they can't even text Kameto to say they've found what he's looking for. There's no doubt about it.

The house calms down, seeing them stay put, but it's still far from normal. "We need a plan." Aypierre asserts, and they all agree with him. "No separation," Etoiles adds. "the last time we tried scooby doo's style was already bad enough." They all wince. Antoine had gotten lost, at first purposefully so he could 'talk' with the ghost alone, but then he'd been genuinely distracted by the secret passage he found and Baghera fell through the floor searching for him.

"What if we just wait? It seems upset-" Etoile snorts. "and we could just sit and wait for them to calm down." Aypierre's idea is not half bad. Antoine is hit by a realization.

"It seems young. Maybe we can convince them to show themselves" They all pause. Not because of his intervention, they're used to his random hits of knowledge, (No Pierre I cannot tell you the winning numbers, I'm not a psychic) but rather for the content of it. "Young?" Baghera chews on her lips worryingly.

They've never seen kids before. It's not surprising, their usual resolve crumbles away after a few days, leaving place for terrible boredom. A bored ghost is not a ghost for long. And the children that stay for a few weeks longer? Antoine prefers to put them out of their misery almost immediately. There's a reason they stay, and it's not because their favorite toy disappeared.

All in all, they're pretty rare, and in two years of hunting, they've only found one. Not that the others know of it. He's pretty sure Baghera would have killed the owner, and Aypierre and Etoiles would have helped.

(Even though he doesn't care for kids, seeing the tiny thing in front of him had made his carefully crafted heart tighten. When all was said and done, the others joking about the disappointment, Antoine had paid the man a visit. He'd been confused at first, but Antoine showed him what it's like to see. His body showed up, a few weeks later. Eyeless and wild, something inhuman embedded in his terrified face. He had not touched a single hair of the man. The human mind, such a fragile thing.)

The air turns suffocating. They all think of the missing kids, a flash of faces through their minds. Most of the population does not believe in ghosts, steady waves of comments on their channel 'nice edits!' 'almost looks real!'. How would they even word it to the parents: 'I found your son but not, you can take off the poster and prepare the grave?'

Baghera's face turns grim. "We'll see." She turns to the open hallways. "HI SWEETHEART, WE JUST WANNA TALK!" The house flinch, before seemingly waiting with baited breaths. Etoiles turns to them. "Ghosts can eat right?" Antoine shrugs. "I think? But I'm pretty sure the second they turn intangible it all goes splat." The other nods to himself before taking out a thermos. "We have hot chocolate!"

"First time in my life I'm hoping a kid hasn't got the stranger danger talk." Antoine hears Etoiles mutters.

They all freeze, waiting to see what comes out of it. Aypierre slowly deposits a candy next to the thermos, and he really doesn't want to know where the other got that. It has the shape of an animal, some kind of unicorn, and- did Aypierre make candies with his own fursona? (The furry club explanation had been a fun discussion. For Antoine and Pierre anyways. He will never forget the looks on the passerby's face.)

It seems to work, and they all hear the pitty-pat sound of small feet running towards them, stopping around the corner. "Hello." Antoine provides, doing his best to keep his roiling presence -smaller smaller stays underneath the stitched skin- at bay. An anxious head pokes out from behind the wall, messy blond hair leaving way to heterochromatic eyes. He can feel the others relax when they realize it doesn't match any faces on the posters.

It takes a few minutes for the girl to gather her confidence, but little by little, she steps out of the shadow. The full sight of her makes Baghera gasp, in turn making the girl flinch.

Her eyes are rimmed with tears, clothes full of dirt and blood. But the worst sight is probably the gushing blood pouring out of her slashed throat.

Chapter Text

The people here were weird. She hadn't meant to show herself, wanted to hide, microscopically small, barely a crack in the wall. But then, they entered the house, and all she could hear was the sound of their boots heavy on the floorboard and it made her so scared the house had reacted instead, dragging them into a mess.

She doesn't really know what's going on. Her heart is frozen in fear, and she doesn't want to go back. She won't, even if it kills her. But, as the odd group slowly explored the house, she was less and less reminded of them. They were silly, a bit, and they didn't sound as angry as the others after her. She would have shown herself a bit earlier, but the presence of the thing with them was still scary.

She hadn't met any other ghost, apart from the bear, and so she couldn't tell if the hidden man was really that strong or if it was her who was weak. She felt a new wave of hot tears burning her eyes. The books she'd read said that children often had plushies, and she desperately wished it was true. But her hands were empty, save from leftover scabs and blood.

They were still waiting for her, and she resolutely stepped forward. She had never tasted candy before, and they looked nice. It was nervewracking.

-

She hears the woman gasp, seeing her throat, and she shrinks on herself, ashamed. She was supposed to be better than that, but they had taken her by surprise. She had tried to bring the cut together, for it to heal, but it never stopped bleeding.

She timidly takes a step towards the cup on the ground, then another. They let her, careful not to move and she feels grateful. Food is not something she had often, and the chocolate tastes heavenly on her tongue.

She wants to say thanks, to ask so many questions, but she doesn't have the words for it, vocabulary muddy and small. She doesn't have any words at all, she bitterly realizes as she self-consciously brings her hand to her throat.

"Does it hurt?" The green man asks, and she flinches at the noise. It doesn't, not in a physical sense, and so she shakes her head no. She feels the woman relax.

"What's your name?" She asks, and she has to pause. Does she have a name? Her memories seem to escape her. She makes a so-so mention.

"You don't remember?" Says the man in blue, and she nods. "We can give you one if you want." After a few moments of deliberation, she accepts with a quiet thumb up. "Aypierre, what the fu- fudge! You can't give her a name like that" The woman hits the man in blue, Aypierre. He doesn't move from his phone. "The calendar says it's the year in P, so we could name her something like-" He is interrupted when the green man lets out an aborted laugh. "The dog calendar? Tu te fiches de moi connard."

The woman sighs, visibly restraining herself, before she turns back to her. However, before she can say anything, the hidden man cuts the discussion short. "How about Pomme?" She is still a bit scared of him, but she gets the feeling he's purposefully let himself stay unmoving and silent, to avoid terrifying her further. She ponders it in her head. Pomme... She likes the word, the sweet way it rolls in her mouth, and the bright red image it brings to her brain. She nods.

"Do you know how to write?" Tired of standing and moving her head like the little statue the mean man had on his desk, Pomme simply sits and makes a grabby motion. The woman searches through her bag, before triumphally getting out a pen. She smiles as she hands her the pen. "Hi, I'm Baghera!" The others take it as their cue to introduce themselves and so she learns the green man is Etoiles, and the hidden one is Antoine.

Antoine is an odd name. Or rather, an odd name with how plain it sounds. When he says it, clear despite the cardboard acting as a barrier, she strains her ear and listens to -infinity star echo depth void- bleeding into one audible voice. Pomme has only been out for a few hours, but she's pretty sure this is not normal. She raises a shaky finger to point at Antoine, asks for an explanation of what he is exactly and why does he feels -huge hungry power- but before the others can turn, he wordlessly puts a finger to the ink serving as a mouth, universal shushing gesture. Her mouth closes with an audible click as she swallows back saliva and questions.

Baghera notices a bit too late, and when she looks at her finger's direction Antoine is already back into his previous position. She misunderstands. "Him? Don't worry about him he's just an idiot." She cuts the half-hearted protest. "He still tries to cook pasta without water, and almost set fire to my house." The blatant mockery makes her shrivel up, waiting for the explosion of anger sure to follow. Her tightly closed eyes miss the puzzled glance the adults exchange. There's a second, then two, and still nothing.

When she hesitantly opens her eyes back up, Antoine is still relaxed. A careful breath. Perhaps... he is nice? She tentatively puts him in the 'not threat' box. As scary as this was, she had other problems. Huge problems too, so huge she wished she didn't have a heartbeat, so her wild heart would finally settle. (This is a lie. From the moment she woke up, barred bones given flesh, she'd cherished it. It's a sign, it's a proof. She is not a thing. And now, to her little 'mine' pile, she adds excitedly her name.)

The paper Aypierre gave her is crinkled, but it'll do its job. She writes, hastily: 'Hello. What are you going to do?'

"To you?" She nods. "Well..." Baghera seems unsure. "Do you know someone named Kameto?" It doesn't ring any bell. 'Is he with the white men?'

"Euh... I don't think so?" The green ma- Etoiles starts to pace the room, as the one named Antoine shifts. "You're running away, aren't you?" Even though his eyes are hidden, she can still feel the heavy gaze resting on her. She wishes she was stronger, a little warrior, so she could defiantly raise her chin and affirm that yes, she is and they won't stop her. But she's scared, she's tired, and worst of all she can feel another wave of tears coming up to her eyes.

"Putain, Antoine!" Baghera gently takes her in her arms. Despite the hesitancy on both parts, it's warm and new. Pomme can feel tiny pinpricks of static where their skins are touching. The way her head is raised tells her the woman is glaring.

"What." He continues, undeterred. "You shouldn't get attached. She's going to pass soon."

"Antoine." Aypierre's voice is cutting, unusually serious. They've all stopped, before Etoiles slowly bends down to his side and whispers. "Too far dude." The other tilts his head, processing the words, before nodding. "Ok." A nudge. "... Sorry." She doesn't blame him. It's all the men used to say about her, when they thought her too stupid to understand. It chills her, a little bit. Despite not showing any real signs, she can feel it in her bones. He knows.

"We have to go. We've spent too long on this one house, Kameto's probably getting worried." This Kameto person, again. She untangles herself from Baghera, already missing the warmth. If they try to catch her, she'll need to be able to run. When Baghera looks back at her, there is fire in her eyes. "Ok, what do we do? We're all agreeing to take her with us, right?" They all nod, even Antoine, albeit a bit slower than the others.

Pomme desperately tries to crush the hope in her heart. They're not- They can't be saying what she thinks they're saying. Her throat closes up, breaths coming quicker and quicker until black dots litter her vision. She is not a stranger to panic, but this is the first time it feels maybe good. She shakily grips the pen. "You're not sending me back?"

"Do you want to be sent back?" Aypierre pauses his backpack search to look at her. She shakes her head so fast Baghera has to hold her arms so she's not sent tumbling to the floor. "Then we don't." He gets out a dark coat before draping it over her. "I'm taking her through the back entrance, you go through the front and pretend everything's fine." Etoiles tenses. "You think people are watching us?"

There's a silence. "I know people are watching us. Just say I forgot something, we'll wait in the car."

He hushes her outside before they can protest. Safe in the shadows, she can see the moment the rest emerge, and are greeted by a disheveled-looking man, probably the famous Kameto. "You found h- something?"
"Nah bro," Etoiles casually says, hiding white knuckles behind him. "It was a shit run!" The man's smile looks a bit pinched, before their numbers catch up to him and he narrows his eyes.

"Where's Aypierre?" Pomme jumps, saved from making noises by Aypierre's hands holding her tight against the car they didn't have time to get in. "In two minutes, I'm gonna open the door and you get in, down under the front seat, okay?" He whispers in her ears. She presses her finger once on his arm, letting him know she got the message.

Meanwhile, the trio is silent, before Baghera blurts out. "He- He broke his finger. His least favorite one! So it's, you know, unlucky luckiness? Or lucky unluckiness? Well anyways we just have to drive him to the hospital and-"

"Baghera."

"And since it's his least favorite one I think he'll be okay but you know it looked like, kind of a mess so we have to, you know, hurry real fast!" She can't seem to stop, now that the words are out of her mouth. "But you know how he is-"

"And the reason why he chose to separate from you since he needs help is...?" He clearly doesn't buy it. It's Antoine who interrupts.

"You of all people should know Aypierre doesn't like to be weak." The air turns even tenser, as Kameto's mouth twists for a split second, a spark of realization, before returning to an easy smile. "At least he is able to ble-" Aypierre chooses this moment to open the car door, perhaps a bit more violently than he ought to.

Pomme doesn't hesitate, and dives in the back of the van, burying herself under the random junk lying there. (She doesn't think she's been buried before. Doesn't know if she would have liked it. Dead given proper peace... She's always only known pain. She'd miss living too much, she convinces herself. Not that she knows much of that.)

Kameto is quick to come over, checking the shadows behind Aypierre. "Oh, hey Kameto!" A lazy wave.

"You look... well." Aypierre grins. "Oh, you know me and how... adventurous I can get. The pain of a broken bone is nothing." The suggestive smirk is enough to make them gag. Kameto only allows himself to cringe for a second before stepping closer. "Can I see it? I might be able to help." The excuse is flimsy, but given their lack of broken bones, it might be the thing that breaks their lie.

Etoiles and Baghera look ready to interrupt, before Aypierre abruptly slams the still-open door closed, right on his middle finger. If it weren't for the blood dripping on the floor, his face would have made them think nothing happened. "Oh well. I'm so clumsy."

Kameto looks back in disbelief. "What the fuck?"

"Ahh, right on my already broken finger too... You wanted to see it?" Aypierre holds his hand up, finger slightly bent. The whole thing caught Kameto off guard and it shows. He backs off, and the rest of the group uses it to their advantage, swiftly slipping into the car, Baghera in the driver seat. She waves. "Bye! We have to get to the hospital, see you around!" She doesn't wait for him to retort something, as she starts the car and almost bumps into him. She waits until they're out of the block before turning to Etoiles. "You need other friends."

He grumbles, squished between Antoine and the window. In their hurry, they all went through the front except for Aypierre and Pomme, comfortable in the back. "Like you're much better."

In the silence, only broken by the pained screech of the tires, Pomme looks down at Aypierre's hand. It's still bleeding, and she feels guilt bubbling up her throat. (Her own bleeding has lessened. She can't figure out why. They'd always said she had a slower healing than most.)

Softly, she reaches out to take his hand. She tries to convey with her eyes how much she's sorry he had to do that for her. He smiles. "That's okay. I can't feel much pain anymore, don't worry about it." The car abruptly stops, and Pomme is glad she remembered the belt thingy because she probably would have been launched through the glass. "Oh MERDE!" Baghera swerves the car around. "I forgot we had to go to the hospital for real!"

"Nah, let's go back to your house. Etoiles will bandage me up." The man in question snorts. "Just because I know basic first aid doesn't mean I'm qualified for a broken bone man."

"Aypierre's right. We can't afford to go to the hospital right now." Pomme shrinks on herself, careful of the hand she still holds. It's all her fault. They were so nice to her and all she brought them was problems.

Baghera sighs before turning the car around one more time. Pomme almost regrets still having her vestibular system, as her stomach rolls uneasily.

Soon, they arrive back at the house. Aypierre ushes her inside, before disappearing in the bathroom with Etoiles. She's left with two of them, shakingly staring at her shoeless feet. Baghera snaps back to life looking at the poor excuse of clothes she wears. "Antoine, can you go upstairs to see if we have any clothes left from the last time Phil came over? I'm gonna clean her up in the second bathroom."

The bathroom is bare, save for a single toothbrush and some soap. It's blindingly white, and it makes a shiver run down her spine. Gently, Baghera sets her down on a stool before wetting a soft sponge. When all the dirt and grime are cleaned, Baghera is left staring at her throat, flesh open to the world. "I think it needs stitches," She says anxiously. "but I don't know if it's gonna stay when your energy runs out." Pomme tilts her head, confused. "You know, when you're gonna be too tired and go back to intangible." Pomme still doesn't get it. "I'm mostly solid all the time. I don't understand."

"It doesn't use up energy?" She shakes her head. "C'est le contraire. I need to concentrate to not be here." The words make her frown and Pomme can catch the whispered 'weird'.

"Welp. Anyway, that's a good news. I'll call up Etoiles, he knows how to do emergency stitches."

Once the rest is done, Antoine brings down mismatched clothes (a white shirt and soft red pants she's told belong to people called Chayanne and Tallulah. It's simple, but it's the prettiest things she's ever worn.) Baghera yells "ETOILES!" so loud Pomme accidentally makes the nearby lamp fall. Someone dramatically throws themselves to the ground, catching it before it shatters. "Ow." The wannabe ninja moans from the floor.

Antoine nonchalantly nudges him with his foot. "What did you want?" He says, still on the floor. Baghera gestures to Pomme, who's trying to smother her giggles. (First, because she doesn't know if she's allowed, second, because it feels strange with her throat.) "She needs stitches."

Etoiles whines. "You think I'm a nurse? First Aypierre now the kid?"

"You lack the sexy outfit." Antoine dryly shoots, earning himself an affronted gasp.

"Children, focus."

Getting stitches is not as bad as she'd thought. She doesn't feel any real pain, only the strange sensation of being pinched, and soon she has a line of sloppy ('I did my best okay!' 'You should go back to that knitting club, you need help.' 'It was one time, ONE TIME.') stitches instead of the ugly wound.

The clock says it's 7 P.M, and Pomme helps set the table. They have to show her how it's done, but she gets the gist of it after one look. When the four plates are set, she huffs proudly. "You forgot something." Aypierre comes up from behind, making her deflate. Damn it, she really thought she got it right. She turns and, held in a bandaged hand is another plate, smaller than the others. "Your plate." Oh.

She blinks away the tears. Ok then. Aypierre kindly pretends he doesn't see the way her hands shake. The dinner is simple, pasta with tomato sauce. She pushes them around, indecisive, before biting into them. They're warm and soft, a bit soggy, probably because they've swum into the water too much. The tomato sauce is cold and full of weird little white squares and herbs. All in all, it's the best meal she ever had. Not difficult, considering it's the first. (Unless candies count. She definitely prefers the candies.)

She takes longer than them to finish, busy slowly chewing to maximize the savor. Baghera is the one who breaks the silence. "So, hum Pomme, I was wondering if you had... parents?"

She blinks. Do they want to send her back? Her legs stop swinging. The food doesn't taste that good anymore. "What do you mean?" She winces as she accidentally spreads a bit of tomato over the white sheet.

"Before you- well."

"She means before you died." Antoine's plate is empty despite the fact none of them saw him moving at all. His presence still feels -void huge hungry-.

Before she- They're asking about the Before, with a capital B. She twists the pen between her fingers. "I don't remember the Before." She lies.

"Hum, I... I see. Do you know why you were running?" She brings her knees to her chest. Flashes of white, endless hallways, running faster faster faster but they keep getting closer the sound of mechanical laugh along the walls. "The Men in white" She wants to write but the words are wobbly and the pen rolls out from her fingers halfway through the last word. The table helps her focus, solid wood against her skin. "They want me."

"Did you see any other kids there?" Aypierre asks, a metaphorical lightbulb going off in his head.

She doesn't want to do this anymore, she doesn't want to see the bear laughing in her memories again, but she has to be brave. If she proves to them she's useful, if she makes them believe she has something to offer them, then they might keep her for a bit, and even give her candy again. "There was a boy. He screamed very loud." Baghera turns white. "Screamed?"

She shakes her head. She won't she won't she won't! The bear stays inside her skin but she won't remember she will not- nothing happened she didn't see she was good she stayed inside she didn't see she-

"Pomme!" The yell is enough to startle her out of the chair. Her neck is wet, and when she reaches to touch the bandage, it comes out red.

Aypierre is down on the floor with her, pushing her lungs to breathe in rhythm with him. Faintly, she can hear him say words: something like panic and attack but the ringing in her ears prevents her from learning more.

After a few minutes, the world starts to have colors again, and she's left aware of the mess. The door to the living room is halfway sunk into the floor and the previously neatly aligned plants now spill their dirt on the carpet. Aypierre's hair sticks up into the air, a shock of electrostatic.

Sorry, she instinctually tries to say, but the words get stuck halfway out and she remembers. The shot and the pain.

She is helped up by Etoiles, who gently leads her to the living room but- "Ah crap." The door is now barely tall enough for her, never mind a fully grown adult. (It is a useful trick. She used it on her way out, to stop the flurry of men after her. It was no use, the bear was too slimy for the door to be an obstacle.)

She tries to concentrate, but her control keeps slipping up and it's getting frustrating because- The door rises before their very eyes. Etoiles thanks her, but she didn't- she didn't do anything. Antoine softly pushes her back when she stands in the doorway too long.

"You're doing better?" Baghera's gaze is still fixated on her throat, which is starting to feel less wet. She nods.

"Ok, so. You need sleep right?" She does, and the need to close her eyes is starting to make itself known. "All this is probably exhausting to you. I have one more room upstairs, the boys can take the couch and the pneumatic mattress, it's fine."

"What? Bro, my car is outside I'm not using your shit mattress..."

Baghera shoots him a look. "We need to talk."

Antoine fakes sympathy. "She's gonna break up with you man, first sleeping on the couch then the need to talk?" He shakes his head.

"Asshole shut up, I'm gonna break up your ass."

"The air mattress is not good for that." Provides Aypierre unhelpfully as Baghera pinches the bridge of her nose. "We have a child here."

"You can keep the kid in the divorce." Etoiles turns to Pomme, who's watching the back and forth like that one time she got to see a tennis match on the TV. "No offense to you."

Baghera forcefully drops back the rock she usually keeps in her pocket. Judging from their faces, it's a regular occurrence. "I'm gonna show Pomme her room for the night. Etoiles if you don't stop, I'm gonna tell your therapist you're still alive."

She turns before she can see the reactions, but Pomme is able to catch the way his face drops, and the other two snicker. The last thing she hears before following upstairs is a quiet 'Je suis une putain de victime.' followed by a laugh.

The room is on the left, a bit tiny, with a simple bed and soft carpet. She digs her feet into it, a warm fluff under her so unlike the cold tiles of where she was kept.

"I know it's not ideal, but it should do it for tonight... Usually, it's reserved for Etoiles when he crashes but it'll do the job."

"It's alright." She writes, before sitting down on the bed. It's very big for her, an ocean of pale yellow trying to swallow her whole. "Wait, hang on," Baghera searches her right pocket for a scrunchie. "Do you want me to tie your hair? They're pretty long."

Pomme never had her hair done before. She timidly says yes, curious to see how it works. Baghera gets to work, slowly braiding the blond strands. None of them speak, but the silence isn't painful, nor awkward. It simply is, a blanket of nothing falling over the two of them.

When it is done, Pomme reaches to touch the top of her hair, and this is where Baghera sees it. On her left wrist, black ink peeking out of her sleeve. The woman frowns, before asking Pomme if she'd be okay showing it to her. She traces the row of numbers, two zeros, and a six. She doesn't know what it means, and judging from Baghera's expression neither does she.

Pomme doesn't miss the way she hastily tugs on her jacket's sleeve, practically shoving her whole hand in it.

"It's probably ok, just a tattoo, right? You're a bit young for that but we don't all have great parents, ah."

Aypierre knocks on the open door, making them jump. "I thought she might want something to sleep with." He's holding a weird green lump, seemingly made of yarn. Baghera's furrowed eyebrows immediately ease, familiar smile on her face. "Is that...?"

"Yup." Aypierre makes the word pop, smiling a tad too much. He bends down to hand it to her, and she turns it over, puzzled.

"It's a doudou, so you can hold it in your sleep." The fabric is soft, if a bit loose, but she can't for the life of her figure out what it is. "You should ask Etoiles," Baghera giggles. "He'd loveee explaining it to you." She gets the feeling it's an inside joke.

She is soon proven right. "AH NON! Alors ça c'est trop, what the fuck." There's an indignant yell at her door, even though Etoiles' head is in between his hands. "Which one of you do I have to kill?" Pomme hides behind Baghera's shoulders. It's not her fault. She didn't do anything.

"It's okay, he's joking." Baghera soothes. "You'd know if he was really angry, he just goes all quiet and cold." Pomme relaxes, now seeing the flailing around for what it is: dramatics.

"What do you think it is?" Antoine questions her. She hesitates. "Is it Etoiles?" He shakes his head. "Good try though."

"A T-Rex... It was supposed to be a T-Rex..." Etoiles sadly mumbles. "It's okay," Baghera fakely comforts. "It's probably what it looked like after that comet hit."

"I think it was redder, and a little more carbonized but I don't remember. Smelled terribly. Hypothetically of course."

"Antoine, do not say that to a child's face." Pomme looks back at the 'T-Rex'. She would like to say the unshaped blob looked back, but Etoiles didn't sew it any eyes, so it just sags to the side. It's a bit pitiful, but she likes it.

"Pomme, Pomme, just give me a day, and I'll buy you the best teddy bear, the biggest one in the store, please don't take that. I will die. You will have killed me, Pomme. I don't think you can pay the lawyer for the court case, so you should just give it back to me. Pomme please." She's starting to get his antics now, so she just shakes her head and watches his face crumble into despair.

"Look at you! A little boss!" Aypierre exclaims, delighted. Baghera snorts. "Please don't teach her capitalism, she's got enough on her plate." She can't help it, they're all so funny (and a touch crazy). A little huff escapes her, and she misses the way they all freeze for a second and smile, too busy giggling against her green blob.

They soon leave her be, and she's left staring at the ceiling, waiting to fall asleep. When minutes before she could feel the heavy weight of sleep on her eyelids, now it seems to escape her, slipping through her fingers like sand. (She never saw real sand. She wonders if it's as small as it looks. If it's warm. What would it feel like, to dig her toes into the white of the beach?)

She tries to close her eyes for a few minutes, but nothing works. She doesn't feel in danger, the house a deep humming of -hello hello you're so tiny- probably because it's used to Antoine.

It's then that a voice reaches her ears, a soft murmur relayed through the walls. They're talking downstairs. Probably about her. Her stomach twists. What if they decided she was too much? What if they called Kameto back? (She still doesn't know the man, but he didn't look like anything good.)

Silently, careful to lighten her body so as not to make any noise, she creeps downstairs, grateful the kitchen is hidden by the living room.

"-know, we are ghost hunters Baghera, we've been doing that for years, and just because she is a child you want to change it all?" Etoiles' voice sounds tired, and the words more confused than biting. It does not help the way her stomach drops down to her knees.

"So you want us to what? Throw her back in the street? Try to kill her? I thought you were better than that Etoiles."

A sigh. "I'm not saying that, look I know the kid's cute, and I like her alright, I'm just saying something clearly has happened to her and we're not qualified to do any of this shit."

"And who is? The police? We've all seen what they do around here."

"Ah you're one to talk, you love it when they're too lazy to regulate your stuff."

"Not when children disappear, Etoiles." The sound of a chair scraping against the floor.

"I think perhaps, we should think about what we want to do, rather than what we need. When has obligations stopped any of us?"

"Then what do you want, Antoine?" Silence, stretching a bit too long. "I want a lot of things. I don't mind Pomme."

There's the sound of a head thumping against wood, followed by a small voice. "I want to keep her. But I'm not, none of us are 'parent material'.

"She is not exactly 'child material' either. She's fine, but don't expect me to be a dad or something. I could be the cool uncle I guess."

"Cool? More like lame." The sound of a fist hitting fabric. Baghera seems to reboot. "Dad? Oh god, no I don't think we should be her parents... Just like- fostering, that's a thing, right?"

Aypierre snorts. "Good luck getting legal papers for a ghost. I can take her a bit too, if you want. She'd make a great assistant." A beat.

"You want her to come to your house?"

"Why not?" Antoine laughs. "Oh, nothing bro, not like your room is enough to make a seasoned man faint."

"That's an exaggeration."

"Maximus told me."

"Ah."

"Aypierre, you seem to have forgotten that Pomme is apparently wanted."

"And?"

"Your house. Full of illegal shit. The house that will probably soon be subject to an inspection for potential terrorist attacks."

Pomme can hear the pout in his voice. "I don't see what you mean Baghera."

Etoiles cuts him. "Oh, so it definitely wasn't your machine that shook the neighborhood so hard almost everyone fell unconscious and we had to clean up shits for hours?"

"You can't prove anything!" Nails tap on the table. "And if you do, just remember I'm ready to snitch on who exactly has been my supplier."

"... Touché."

"So we just... keep her?" Pomme's heart skips a beat. This is the moment. They said, they said they didn't mind right? That she could stay?

"Better here than wherever the other kids have been taken. I think she is linked to that."

Baghera exhales. "Ok. Ok. Cool. Choosing not to acknowledge that last part or else I'm gonna go crazy. So we just... have a child here now."

"You do. Also, you were the one to want it!"

"I know," She whisper-yell. "but now it's starting to set in, oh god."

"Wait until tomorrow for your mental crisis." Baghera breathes loudly before getting back to them. "You're right. On other news, we definitely have to fire Kameto."

A concert of groans. "My taxes..."

There's the sound of someone getting up, but no footsteps. Probably Antoine then. "You don't need me for that." He walks out before they can protest and starts to make his way to the living room. Right in her direction. She freezes briefly, before scrambling to run away.

"It's alright. I know you're here."

She stays still, looking at him guiltily. She didn't bring any paper on her little adventure, so she is left silent. Antoine is soft, even though he just surprised her spying on them. "It's no time for you to be out of bed, young woman."

He leads her back to her room. "I'm guessing you heard everything, uh?" He is not guessing. He knows. Pomme knows that he knows. She shrugs. "It's okay. We're keeping you apparently." She grabs the paper lying close to the bed. "You said I was gonna die."

The ink on his 'face' drops down, ever so slightly. "Well, we all do, someday or another."

"Not you." He looks pained. "There are different ways to die, Pomme." His head drops down, looking at the floor under which the rest are no doubt still talking. "Only one of them involves you ceasing to exist." He sounds ancient when he says it, and the shadows slip under his clothes in a wiggling mass. Well, cloth singular. He takes a step towards her, but he is so -big all encompassing huge- she can't help but startle.

He stops. "Ah. That's okay, you're probably not used to it."

"Sorry." He shakes his head. "Don't worry about it. Go to bed now, you'll still be here in the morning. Baghera might let you get ice cream for breakfast if you use your puppy eyes on her."

"You think?"

"I'm sure of it. Have a good night, Pomme. Be one of those lucky few to have pleasant dreams." It sounds like a blessing, an acceptance.

He slips into the shadows before she can return the wish. Her last thought is spent wondering if he too can dream.

Chapter Text

It's been a week since Pomme's been here, and in his opinion, it has been a smooth sailing. She's been opening up, slowly but surely. She still won't talk about where she's from, but they got a full open-mouthed laugh yesterday, and that had to count for something. (He's been quietly fixing her mistakes, when no one's looking. Her power is still unsteady, and so spilled energy is forcefully brought back to him, something -sweet dark fake young different- to stall the hunger a bit, instead of broken glass and flickering lights.)

She gets nightmares at night, quietly sobbing to herself in a too-big bed. He'd help, he's not that much of a monster, but the first time Antoine had tried to go to her she'd been so lost in memories she'd just froze up and silently screamed. He's not intent on reiterating the experience, and so he listens each night, the sound of wet tears and racing heart replacing the steady bam bam bam of his friends.

His opinion on this child, tiny Pomme all alone is this: she is dangerous. Not necessarily because of herself, he's seen the way Etoiles wrestled her to ground under the guise of teaching, but because of what she might bring to their door. Kameto's not stupid, seeing through their flimsy words, and now that Antoine realizes he's from there, it means he won't ever give up.

(What he almost said, a week ago... That had been unacceptable. Will be unacceptable if it happens again. The direction might have changed, but they're still terrified. Humans, fake or real, are afraid of the unknown. The only thing they have on Antoine's file is his name.)

So yes, he's a bit annoyed and distant, seeing his peace threatened, but that doesn't mean he doesn't want to talk with the kid! It'd be one thing if she was scared of him at night, in the dark but she-

"She's afraid of me all the time." He flops down to the ground, staring unblinkingly into the sun. "I don't know why!" He throws his arms up in the sky. Well, he knows why, but it's not like he can do anything about it.

She's out now, going shopping with Baghera, and so he took the opportunity to complain to Etoiles who's been trying (and failing) to speedrun Minecraft. He'd dragged him outside, under the order of Aypierre who had to, in his exact words 'go settle a thing,' and that he should 'make sure Etoiles gets his daily dose of sun, you know how he gets when he's focused on something'.

"It might be because you wear a cardboard box on your head all the time... She thinks you're insane." He groans as another weird pink animal pushes him into the orange pixelated thing he'd called 'lava'.

Antoine sighs. "I told you bro, if I take it off you'll die."

A snort. "Yeah because you're so ugly I know."

"Excuse you? I am beautiful, unlike you. The only thing you got going is your ass."

Etoiles lowers the laptop to the ground. ('I can't play Minecraft on a laptop you want me to perish? Do you want me to shrivel up and die on the ground? Why not just throw me into the road? End my life faster!' He'd scrambled for an excuse. 'It's like... playing on hard mode?' Thankfully, that made him win the argument. Antoine's not sure Baghera would have liked the hole in her living room.) "Oh yeah, you like my ass? You wanna see my ass bro?"

He doesn't back down. "What about it? Gonna give me a show?"

"Oh, I'm gonna give you a show for sure bouffon." With that, Etoiles throws himself at him with the grace of a kicked puppy missing one leg. It's playful, of course it is, because the human body Antoine's got is not that strong, and so they wrestle lightly on the ground.

When they're done, crooked smiles staining their face, Etoiles drops his head on top of his chest, a 90 degrees-orientated body using him as a pillow and juts his elbow into his ribs. (How many are there again? Ten or Eleven? He can never get the numbers right.) "Maybe you should try talking to her, instead of hovering awkwardly in her direction."

"Talk about what?"

"I don't know man, anything?"

"Hm." And then, a quiet admission, because this is Etoiles who'd probably follow him into the dark without any good reason, who'd smile and say 'that's it?' to most of the things he's done. Because it's simply Etoiles. "This is hard."

"Yeah, like-" He stops himself instinctually, looking left and right before relaxing again. "Oh, right. She's not here."

He hums. The two of them, they're not made for much seriousness. It's alright. Antoine knows the things Etoiles will never say.

"You think the trip is going alright?"

"Oh, I'm sure Pomme's got it in the bag."

-

Pomme does not have anything under control. Baghera had taken her out, her first time in broad daylight, to get 'something else than those poor two clothes you got on you'. They've been speeding over the limit for 30 minutes now, going to the sixth-closest supermarket around. ('I'm banned from the other five' she'd said 'but hopefully six times's the charm!')

She parks the van, quickly checking if Pomme still has her scarf in place (The wound has drastically lessened, but the stitches are still odd to see on a seven to eight-year-old child.) before striding into the store.

Just short of the sliding doors, a bored-looking security guard watching them behind the glass, Baghera stops and gets out two pairs of sunglasses. "Here. We can't be recognized, and I think the lights might overwhelm you." A solemn expression takes over her face. "We also have to enter in style. I got headphones too if the noises are too loud."

She wipes the dust out of her pants before turning towards the doors like one would go to fight a final boss. Pomme is still trying to put on the glasses, a bit too big for her, and they keep sliding down on her nose, making her look goofy. "Hopefully it goes well. I think this one might not catch on fire. I even got real money to pay for our stuff this time!"

It's not all that reassuring, but she's already getting led inside by a warm hand in her cold one. (She'd always run a bit cold. Might come with the whole 'ghost' thing. But then, whenever she gets close to Antoine he is -burning sun nebula space bright- so she doesn't know. Being dead doesn't come with any kind of manual after all.)

She needs new clothes, Baghera babbles excitedly, and maybe some other stuff too. They're here only for her, Aypierre, Etoiles and surprisingly Antoine having gone to a supermarket earlier this week. They couldn't buy anything too childlike, with their travels and bank account potentially watched. It would have been funny trying to see Etoiles explain why he might need clothes three times too small for him, but would have probably signed their end too.

Stepping inside the building, Pomme understands why Baghera gave her the black tinted glasses. It's huge, full of people, and worst of all the walls and floor are blindingly white. She shudders, sticking close to Baghera's side, one hand clutching her warm fingers and the other holding on tight to her whiteboard.

They've been getting better at the whole communication aspect. Etoiles had asked Phil for some books on sign language, and she's been getting better at quickly scrawling her words on paper and board. (They'd also spent a few hours, huddled around YouTube videos. The first signs they made her learn were danger, and help. Signing them feels like swallowing battery acid.)

They spend an exhausting hour like that, going from clothes to clothes, trying to find something that looks good. Some clothes are way too unpractical, all frilly and stiff, like children are meant to be paraded instead of moving around. Pomme wants simpler clothes, pretty but unassuming. "I need to be able to run." She writes to Baghera, and they both know the quiet weight behind those words.

They settle on a couple of outfits and two solid pairs of shoes, before shifting to other things. She chooses a diary, light blue her favorite color, with pages so smooth she can't help but run her fingers over the cream-colored paper again and again.

They only have to buy one more thing before going home, a backpack small enough for her, but she's already lagging behind. The store is huge, and her legs so tiny she's half-convinced that if Baghera wasn't holding her hand she'd lose her in the hungry crowd of people.

They arrive in front of the backpacks, rows of bright-colored bags around them, and it does not help making her feel less small. "Here, little Pomme, we'll pick one just for you. Which one do you like?"

She stops. All along, it's been saying yes or no to clothes shown her way, quietly adding to the shopping bag. But this? This is her choice. She is allowed to make a choice, to make her voice heard. She swallows uneasily before slowly analyzing her options. She hasn't watched any cartoons, and so the weird rows of big smiling faces get set aside. Animals are better, wild and free, and so she slowly tiptoes closer to them, pretending like she's not that interested.

Immediately, she sees the One. Once her eyes lock in place, she knows she won't be able to hide her fascinated face. It's red and black, but most important of all it's got big plastic butterfly wings on the sides, glistening in the neon lights. She wants it. She desperately wants to try it on and twirl, to see if the wings will follow along, twitching like she's able to take flight. But it's... It's bright red. The farthest thing possible from unassuming. Bright red is the center of a target, max points on hit. She still can't bring herself to look away.

"You want this one?" Baghera shakes her out of her thoughts. She hesitates, before shaking her head. (She's scared. Scratch that, she's terrified. She wants wants wants, a greedy thing inside of her. The ugly feeling that if she indulges one time she will not be able to stop. And it echoes in her brain, louder and louder, first a backpack, then she'll ask for more, for them to tuck her into bed, for more chocolate before dinner, for her to stay with them, for a family, for- She stops herself.)

"Too bright." Baghera laughs, a sad glint in her eyes. "How about we make a deal?"

She tilts her head to the side, and Baghera bends down to whisper in her ears. "Every time you put on the backpack, one of us will wear a brighter and uglier thing, so people aren't gonna be able to see anything else. Would that be okay with you?"

Pomme swallows past the lump in her throat. She gives a tiny thumbs up, shakingly smiling back at Baghera. "That's settled then, let's go pay for our stuff! Well, once I understand how you pay for your things..."

It happens on the way to checkout, struggling through the crowd. Their hands unlink, if only for a second, and she immediately gets pushed from side to side, lost in the sea of people. She tries to look for familiar blond hair, but there are people everywhere, and most of them tower over her. She ducks inside an alley, walls of canned tuna in front of her, and tries to catch her breath. There is nothing to climb on, and she has no way to communicate with Baghera. She pinches the soft underside of her arm, bringing herself back from the hazy edge of panic, and looks up to see a middle-aged woman right in front of her face. She jumps, barely avoiding the cans, before the woman speaks to her.

"Hi sweetie, did you lose your mommy?" Her breath smells of cigarettes and Pomme immediately decides she doesn't like this stranger, with her baby talk. She is a child, not a toddler! She tightly grips her board, quickly flitting through the things she could say. ('When in doubt, always lie.' Pierre had said. Granted, it was about Monopoly, but Pomme is pretty sure he meant it for real life too.) She nods. "Oui. We lost each other in the crowd."

"Oh." There's a frown on the woman's face, seeing her write on her board. "And you don't know where your father is too?"

She panics. "My papas are at work." The stranger's eyes get wide. "Papas?" She sounds strangled, like the rubbery chicken Etoiles showed her on the tiny screen.

She doubles down, hurrying to end the conversation. She sounds noisy, and Pomme doesn't want to hear her grating voice all day. "I have three."

The other's eyes get impossibly wider. "THREE?" She screeches, just as Baghera runs around the corner, throwing herself in between Pomme and the stranger. "Pomme! Oh my god, I thought I had to make an announcement on the radio thing!" She leans into the arms offered to her, tired.

She doesn't want to be here anymore, doesn't want the noises, the lights, or the white. She wants to go home and try on her backpack in front of Etoiles so he can say it's ugly, with that tilt in his voice meaning he actually likes it, to the soft bed waiting for her there, to the four of them saying softly goodnight before she can hear them quietly talking downstairs.

She wants to go home.

But the world is not kind to her, and the woman is starting to make her way into yelling at them, screaming something about 'improper' and 'CPS' and she gesticulates wildly, drawing attention to her and it's enough!

She hides her head in the crook of Baghera's neck, firmly shutting her eyes closed, but it's too late because she sees the way the woman tried to grip her and it's enough to make the adrenalin kick in her whole body, panic screaming to be let out. She tries to gasp her way into another breath but it's too late. Energy fuses out of her like uncontrolled fireworks and-

The whole store goes pitch black. It's a brutal stop, no more music no more lights, and Pomme sags into Baghera, drained.

The other is quick to react, speeding away from the woman who caused it all, swiftly avoiding walls like she's been memorizing the easiest escape route before coming here. "You did that?" Baghera whispers while holding her tight. "Scratch that I don't care, you good?"

She painstakingly traces an ok on Baghera's arm. "Great. Great. We're getting out of here, fuck this 'paying' shit." She giggles to herself. "I'm gonna try to hold on, but as much as I get angry at Etoiles, I kinda have noodle arms and you're a bit heavier than my favorite chainsaw." Chainsaw? She didn't know it was possible to have favorites...

They're getting closer to the exit now, the lazy setting sun sending one last ray through the glass doors. They run past the guard, too busy trying to make his radio work, before Baghera gently sits her upright in the back, clicking her seatbelt as she slowly blinks, flittering in and out of awareness.

The ride home is... definitely less bumpy and chaotic. She sleeps the whole way back.

-

When Baghera comes home with that grin on her face, carrying a still-sleeping Pomme on her back, they all sigh. Well Etoiles and Antoine at least, Aypierre still out on his 'something'. "Did you get caught?"

"What's your bet?" She playfully smiles at Etoiles before handing him Pomme. "Considering you're banned from at least half the stores in the country, not high on you."

She pouts as he goes to climb up the stairs, a precious bundle in his arms. "Nope!" Her smile turns a bit more worried. "Pomminette got overwhelmed and blacked the store out, so we got away unseen."

"That's good?" Antoine doesn't really know what to do with that. "Any news of Aypierre?" She snorts. "You think he'd tell us anything?"

She settles on the couch, throwing two sunglasses on the table before frowning. "A lady called me her mom..."

Etoiles chooses this moment to come back, a slumbering package delivered to its bed. "A lady called you what?"

Antoine laughs before helping her out. "I think she meant Pomme."

"Oh yeah. Makes more sense. Isn't that what you wanted?" Baghera throws him a side look before sighing into the couch. "It's been a week Etoiles. Also, have you seen me?" She's kind of got a point. She's mostly stable these days, but she gets her moments. Antoine can still remember the time she had a run-in with a strange police officer. It was instinctual, the way her face closed off and she swung her fist into his face.

Their group is a close unit, despite all the secrets they'll never tell, close enough to bury a body together and never speak of it again. It is not a promise, but a fact.

The most mentally stable out of all of them is probably Aypierre, and isn't it such a delightful thought?

The silence hangs a bit too heavily for them. "I'm gonna make myself something to eat, you two want anything?" Baghera shakes her head, and Antoine politely declines. His stomach isn't agreeing with him today, struggling to -escape consume boil- settle. He doesn't need to eat, only does it during their weekly-turned-almost-daily-because-of-Pomme dinner night but the hunger settled deep inside of him doesn't seem to get the message.

(He's considering letting it loose, if those pesky little white men keep trying to snoop around. There was a time where he was feared, altar-bound bodies for him to feast, the gift of a new meaning just for him: a god.)

-

The morning brings them a new issue. The shadows watching over the house drip steadily on the floor until they're tall enough to make him fit, and he steps into the living room just in time to greet a bleary-eyed Baghera, dragging along an even sleepier Pomme. Yesterday must have exhausted her, judging by the way she slept through the whole night without any dreams.

Etoiles is still asleep on the pneumatic mattress, Baghera dragging him back whenever he tries to go into his car. It's not surprising, he's always been more of a night owl than anything. He'll wake up soon, Baghera and Aypierre usually preparing breakfast a tad too loudly for him to sleep through it.

When Antoine gets into the kitchen, leaving a grumbling Etoiles to finish waking, he is surprised to see Aypierre with a somber face. He waits, not one to press into an issue. (Baghera and Etoiles usually do the job, those noisy idiots.)

After a few more minutes, when they're all a bit more awake, Baghera bites. "Hey, we didn't see you at all yesterday, and now you're looking..." She tries to come up with a word.

"You're looking like someone told you it would be possible to play a tournament and then go to an award show just after but you just got informed the tournament ran late so you have to forfeit and you can't do anything about it so you just look at the wall and think 'God, why me?' "

Baghera slowly turns towards Etoiles. "That's... oddly specific."

He huffs. "I lead a very specific life."

Aypierre seems to turn back on, serious face turning into an easy smile. "Oh, nothing. I just spent the night with Maximus." Baghera and Etoiles wrinkle their nose in tandem. "We really don't need to know about that."

Pomme silently eats her cereal, watching them tiredly. Antoine turns it in his head. Oh. "Maximus?" Not Maxo or any kind of nickname.

He is quick to understand the question. There's a quickly shutdown spark of annoyance in his eyes as he answers neutrally, dancing around the truth. "We just talked." This is enough to pique their interest.

Aypierre waits for a few seconds, clicking his spoon against his coffee cup. (It's actually Baghera's favorite. Unusual, since Aypierre of all people should have noticed.) "We are shutting down the Furry Club." It's said nonchalantly, as it often is with Aypierre, but Antoine can see the slight tension in his shoulders.

It stops the others too, even Pomme who've never been there. The club had been Aypierre's pride, well mostly laugh, and each of them had custom-made cards somewhere in their belongings. Antoine rather liked his own, Nick Furry in bold letters. His first visit there had been... interesting. (He still wonders if the body he wears counts as a 'fursuit'. It is, after all, technically an animal. Pierre looked at him weird, when he had tried to explain his thoughts.)

The ink on his cardboard drips down, eyes getting slightly bigger, as he feels... somewhere between sad and disappointed. "Why?"

A bandaged hand brings the mug down to the table as Aypierre smiles. It looks bittersweet. "The police have officially stopped the search for Trumpet, so Maximus decided to go look on his own. I don't have time to do it solo."

They all sober up. "Oh. That's... Maybe there's hope?" They all avoid the elephant in the room, currently shrinking on her chair. It's been 8 months. They all know the kid's not coming back.

"He broke up with me too, among other things." Ouch. Even Antoine winces. It's been a shit day, then. Pomme slowly writes on her board. "Maybe he just needs a bit of time and he'll come back?"

Aypierre shakes his head, easy smile replaced by a freezing one. "Nah. If he comes back, I might just kill him." It's said half-jokingly, or perhaps totally seriously. You never know with him, and Antoine can't feel any of his emotions. It's always been difficult, sensing Aypierre. He knows why, eyes briefly flickering to an already healed finger. He only keeps the bandage for show, not that the others know. It is maybe the first human thing Antoine has ever done: a mistake.

Baghera startles. "Wait you're closing it today?"

Aypierre grins, seriousness seemingly set aside. "Yup."

She frowns. "I can't have Pomme with me today, I'm going to Slime's for a karaoke session. You know how we can get."

Etoiles interjects. "I can't either man, I have this thing with Pac."

"She can come with me it's fine." Aypierre shrugs. "It's just not gonna be fun."

The words tumble out of his mouth. "I can keep her."

They all look at him, even Pomme, startled. "If she wants to." He amends.

It's a few awkward seconds of waiting for her answer, before she turns the board to him. "It's okay for me!" He nods before getting back to his breakfast. A deal is a deal. Etoiles nudges his shoulder playfully, a silent reassurance.

Soon, they all leave, until it's just the two of them in this tiny house. Well, maybe big. He doesn't really know, considering his previous house has been -galaxy stars black hole hot sun-.

Pomme is... quiet. Well, quieter than usual. Antoine is not that talented at reading people, but he gets the feeling there's more than just exhaustion. He shakes his head. Unless an opportunity presents itself, he's not gonna call her out. Now, to find something to do with her...

"What do you do with the others?"

She jumps, surprised. "I play? Etoiles showed me his game, but I'm not very good."

He snorts. "The fighting game? Yeah no, no one in this house is good enough for him. Don't let him drag you into his obsession."

"I can read if you want." She's chewing on her lips, anxiously twisting her pen.

Antoine can feel his ink drip into a frown. "Oh come on, do I look that bad? It'd be boring." His words bring back a small smile to her face.

"What do you usually do?"

"Well, I'm a very busy man you know, I..." He trails off, unsure of what to say. "I work on my TDM I guess."

She makes a cute little frown, a questioning look in her eyes. "It's short for Tour de Merde."

She doesn't bother writing words, only a few ??? on her board. "I didn't name it! Etoiles did. I can show you if you want."

She nods with a suspicious look. Which is totally not warranted. He worked hard on it! Well, at first it was only a way to get the... finer motor skills under control, but he'd grown to genuinely like it. (It was hard, all those things hands could do and he couldn't. Back then, before Baghera and the rest, it had taken him a while to be able to simply handle a pair of scissors, never mind a pen. They kept breaking.)

He wordlessly opens the attic, cracking his spine in a row of pop pop pop so he's tall enough to not need a chair, before getting out the large cardboard. It's a square, with four towers on each corner, coupled with balconies and other decorations. It's not too detailed, but he's proud of it.

"Here's version 2.0!" Pomme looks at it with a bit of awe, making his puff up. She lightly touches the side, before growing bolder and poking everywhere. "It looks really cool!"

"Thanks. It took forever because I kept-" A laugh interrupts him. He follows the direction her index finger is pointing at, before sighing. "That's not mine!" And, truly the miserable lump of cardboard looks out of place, in the middle of it all, pathetically falling to the side. "It's Baghera's fountain. Don't ask me how she managed to do that. Etoiles asked me to keep it so he could continue to make fun of her."

Pomme tries to come up with some kind of defense, but she visibly falls short. Antoine entertains her questions for a while, but something about the build keeps bothering him. He scans the cardboard for any hint of something amiss before it hits him.

"Do you want to see something cool?" Pomme excitedly nods. It takes a moment of rummaging through the attic before he finds it tucked away under some of Etoiles' collection of weapons. (Baghera had forced him to put them up here, once they decided to keep Pomme. Had only blankly stared, when he'd tried to say it wouldn't matter since the child was already... Well, dead.)

He carefully places the moon and its attached ring on top of the whole thing, watching it lazily float a few centimeters up in the air. Pomme is clearly amazed, swinging her hand in between the moon and the towers, looking for hidden threads. "How does it do that?"

"Some kind of electro-magnetism, I think. Aypierre helped me set it up, but it only works half the time." As if on cue, the white ball comes to a stop, giving Pomme a second to reflexively catch it. She rolls it in her hand, trying to make sense of it. "Is it your home planet?"

She is joking, mixed with a hint of seriousness. She's only been there a week, but Antoine can see Aypierre rubbing off her with the way she subtly tries to fish for information. It makes him smile, comfortably hidden underneath cardboard. He fakes surprise, noting how the too-sharp gaze trains on his moves. "Well yes of course! You're the first to find out..." He tilts his head to the side, paying no attention to the way the box slightly falls with it, before reenacting a familiar scene, shushing her. "Let's keep that a secret shall we?"

As much as she likes to behave like she's older, Pomme is only around eight. And so Antoine delights in the way she tries so hard to understand what he's trying to do. "I'm joking. I'm not an alien, that would be silly."

She glares at him. "Alright, alright you won." He bends over to her head, speaking conspiratorially low. "I..." Her breaths stop, as she eagerly waits for him to speak. "I need your help for the towers."

If a look could kill, Antoine's pretty sure he'd be dead ten times over. But alas, little Pomme can only convey her killing intent through the way she tightly grips her board, no doubt battling against the need to throw it in his smug face. (She doesn't look so scared of him anymore.)

It takes a while to get on her good side again, but soon enough she helps him paint, putting her creative mind to use. The towers gain a pretty white roof, and Pomme gets Antoine to begrudgingly apologize.

When they're pretty much done, noon approaching, Antoine decides to help her out a bit. She's a cool kid. He knew that already, but spending the morning with her makes it kinda hard to not interfere.

"Here." He tosses her the moon, watching as she turns it over like a puzzle. "Try to make it float." He levels her with a look, felt through rigid brown, telling her that he won't give Pomme the mercy to pretend he's talking about the on/off button.

"You're sure?" She's tense, no doubt reliving old memories. So young, and so full of fear and pain. And listen, Antoine is not a monster. Well, he likes to think he's not the kind of monster who'd leave a child scared of herself without doing anything, at least.

Gently, ever so gently, he wraps his hands around shaking ones, impossibly small. "Pomme." He stays still as she searches his face, or what counts as one. "It's alright. I'm here." She's brave, he thinks, as she composes herself. His uncovered skin must feel -hot searing cracked old impossible- but she simply uses it as an anchor to keep the nervousness at bay.

She nods, once, before focusing on the tiny moon in front of her. Antoine feels more than see the white ball rise, jaggy movements in the air. But it's not the only thing that rises, and soon the whole room seems to forget silly things like gravity exist. He presses on her hand, light but enough to make her notice the changes. Abruptly, everything falls.

He's quick to catch it all, weaving reality back into something less chaotic, but it's too late. Pomme is already losing all her cool, knees brought up to hide her face as he can hear tiny repressed sobs breaking out of her.

Antoine has seen wars, has tasted the sharp edge of a star when it starts to fall apart, could probably watch the death of this universe and the birth of the next one too. In front of him, a child sobs. And Antoine panics a little bit. Just a touch.

"Oh shit." He scrambles to find something to do. The memories of Baghera comforting Pomme hit him, and he awkwardly settles for patting Pomme's back. It takes a few minutes of quiet reassurances but she calms down eventually. "It's scary."

"I know," (He doesn't. Has never fully felt the hazy terror human beings seem to have. It seems kind of counter-productive, letting your tongue turn to lead, brain firing off electric signals in an inconsistent pattern.) "but the world is scary. I won't be like Baghera and Etoiles, telling you we'll protect you from it all." She sniffles wetly. "There will be times when you will have to protect yourself."

It's brutal but it's the truth. And she seems to know it, with the way her tears stop. It takes her two tries to make her writing legible, but she eventually asks. "Could you show me?"

He winces. The two of them are different, and he's not sure it'll help her to see. Her way of manipulating the world is akin to carefully pouring water out of a teapot, while Antoine simply wills the water to be there and stay in place. Requires fewer steps, but needs a great deal of understanding. Nonetheless, he lifts the ball up to her eyes, yanking it out of her grasp when she tries to catch it.

"You focus on your emotions too much, you need to visualize the object first before trying to lift it." She squints, staring at the moon, before reaching, and Antoine easily relinquishes control over it. With her face scrunched up in concentration like that, he can almost see the bright kid she would have been, had she not met the bear. He sheds the thought. She still has time.

This time is more successful, and he cheerfully claps as the white sphere stays in place for a couple of minutes. "See? I told you. You can do good things with it too." She wipes the sweat from her forehead before giving him a beaming smile. It hits him, watching the sparks in her eyes, that he is doing the complete opposite of his own advice.

Slowly, he'd let this tiny child worm her way into his life, despite the fact that he knows how this is all gonna end. It's too much. He wordlessly makes his way to the kitchen, before he can begin to name the emotion crawling in the back of his throat.

She follows him there, of course, and they both puzzle over Baghera's instructions for the microwave. In the end, Antoine lets her operate, dragging a stool so she can climb and set the timer. He'd been severely prohibited from cooking, and so they're left reheating leftovers from the previous night. He eats with her this once, because he'd read somewhere that children needed company.

(Perhaps, he might need some company too.)

Pomme is in her own world, nodding her head along to some inaudible music and Antoine leaves her be. When she's done, putting her plate in the dishwasher like a tiny adult, she raises her board. "Can I watch some cartoons?"

Cartoons... Oh right, the television stuff. He nods. "Sure." It's only when they're in front of the TV that they both stop. "Hum." He's zapped through some channels, but Antoine can't seem to find the kid ones. Pomme is looking at him now, and he's starting to get faster and faster but still no results. "You don't know the channel for cartoons, do you?" Her deadpan is terrible for his self-esteem.

"I thought back on it, you're... way too old for cartoons! In fact, I'm sure this will be way better for your education!" He clicks on a random channel. The screen flashes, before a detailed model of a plane takes all the TV. A hidden voice prattles on about the economic benefits of a particular brand of fuel. Pomme looks at him. He looks back before pointing at the screen.

"See? This is all useful information. I learned that in primary school, you just need to catch up." She narrows her eyes and he only has a second to step aside before she throws herself at him. She curls her right hand before bringing it to her chest. 'Give.'

He holds the remote up in the air. "Non, non, non. You need to listen to the adults here." She shakes her head. It's getting harder not to laugh as she tries to climb the couch to get to him. She writes something on the board, but the second his gaze drops to read it, a tendril of energy shoots out to grab the telecommand out of his hand. Impressed, he lets it float down to her awaiting palm. "Too late." The board reads, and he distantly wonders if Etoiles taught her the trick.

"Bon. Just this once, alright?" He... may have made a mistake, teaching the child how to bend the world in her favor. He'll just tell Baghera she learned it on her own. Pomme already knows to keep his secrets, what's a little obfuscated truth. (They have an unspoken understanding, a quiet 'I won't tell if you don't.' She's young, but not young enough to not know the weight a secret can hold.)

Remote secured in her hand, Pomme turns to the screen triumphally and... stops. It occurs to him that this is probably the first time she gets to choose what's displayed in front of her. "You... don't know the kid channel either, do you?" The look she gives him is halfway through horrified and just plain sad. He takes pity.

"I'm gonna google it, wait." He gets out his phone and tries to open the app. Five attempts later, he's skimming through the results. (Tactile screens always seem to loathe him. The flesh of his thumb lays against the glass, and he can feel indium nickel and other metals fighting against his touch. The modern world doesn't seem to agree with him that much. Sucks to be it, because Antoine is here to stay.)

"Try 139?" The screen lits up with colorful characters, and Pomme settles against the couch.

He lets the cartoon noises lull him into a welcome pause, settling in the kitchen while Pomme watches, fascinated, as some kids fight a disproportioned dragon.

Sorting through his feelings his hard, and he carefully stands closer to the support beam he senses underground. Baghera would not appreciate a crack in her neatly aligned white tiles, and so he does his best to avoid unnecessary weight.

A kid is a kid, and he has not made himself free from the instinct to help the young. (Has he ever been young? He cannot seem to remember. Which part had spawned in first: him, or the world ?)

He'll like her as one does a flower, he decides. Easy to love and easy to leave. Strengthened in his decision, galaxy of thoughts finally sorting themselves out inside his mind, he rises from the floor, uncrossing his legs. A glance at the clock tells him the ordeal took him an hour, and he resolves to give her another in front of the screen. 'Not too much' Baghera had said, 'or else she'd get a headache.'

He spends the time stretching up, tendrils sinking into the ground as he reaches further and further. (He could see the whole world like that, from the deep forests to the highest skyscraper. He only stretches as fast as his friends went, blindly searching for the warmth of their souls. A world can be whatever you want it to be, after all.)

When the clock gets past five, he comes back to the house he'd never left at all. Pomme is not annoyed to stop, probably growing tired of colors and bangs. Antoine gives her some granola to snack on, before excusing himself. "I have something for you."

She looks up, before gently grabbing the package he hands her. He'd not taken the time to wrap it, wouldn't even begin to think of how. Asking the others was out of the question too, since he'd rather go without their teasing. He's not an asshole, nor is he uncaring, and his friends like to remind him of that.

"It's stars." He vaguely provides, when she signs, palms turned to the ceiling. 'What?' "Not the real ones of course, you're too young for that."

She seems even more confused. "It's- You glue them to the ceiling I think, and in the night it glows." She brings the translucid rectangle full of plastic bits close to her eyes, squinting to see anything.

"It's weird."

He turns his head so that an angry face is on the front. "Oh well, I can always take them back to the store." Sensing the fake anger, she holds the stars close to her chest. Pomme frees one hand. 'It's good.'

"No, no, I know you're just saying that to appease me, I'll go back to the store, it's fine." Amping up the dramatics, she lets herself fall to the floor, a mess of limbs.

He grabs her by the waist, paying no attention to her giggles, before heading to her room. It's a bit more lively, now that it's got a daily resident, and the few toys they managed to gather without bringing attention to them sit on the ground. (Etoiles accidentally stepped on a Lego once, and they all heard the heavy thud of him rolling to the ground. Baghera had been nearby, and had immediately rolled out her phone to take a picture. It sits proudly in the living room, despite Etoiles' best attempt to take it down every day.)

"Here." He sets her to the ground before patting his cloak for the glue. The beige fabric tended to not have any pockets, until it did.

It's a big tube, mostly because he didn't know how fast it'd get used. Pomme rips open the package, perhaps a tad too strongly, and stars spill everywhere on the floor. She sighs before getting to work collecting them all. Once it's done, she writes. "You have to lift me up."

He nods thoughtfully. As it is, Pomme is barely tall enough to reach the top of the drawer, never mind the ceiling. "I'll hold you up. You weigh lighter than a grape, no effort at all. She pouts but lets herself be carried anyway. It takes them a bit of time to figure out how to make them truly stick, but soon they're a well-oiled machine, and constellations stretch out amid the white paint.

They're almost done when a star abruptly detaches and falls, straight on his carboard. He startles. "Oh shit!"

It stays, wet with glue, and the two of them have a moment of pause before Pomme laughs, bright and clear. He brings her down, too squirming to be stable in the air, before blindly touching the space it landed on. The hard plastic sticks stubbornly to his box. Looking at Pomme shaking with laughter, he finds that it does not bother him that much.

"Another?" She tentatively asks. He sighs, fond. "Alright, just one."

It's cute, seeing her so focused on getting the place right, tongue sticking out as she gently presses it into place. She puts it in the corner of his left eye, a bit like a tear. She sits back satisfied, the art and the artist. They lay on the ground, looking at the sea of yellowish-green shapes.

"We'll see how it goes tonight." And she nods with him before getting up.

-

The rest of the afternoon passes by lazily, and they don't hit any problems until it comes to her evening routine. Pomme's already cleaned up, settled in fluffy pajamas, and finishes brushing her hair when she instinctually hands him the hair tie.

He takes it, before he realizes what she is asking him to do. "Pomme. I... don't know how to braid hair." She blinks, at a loss. "Me neither."

"Hm. You know, I saw this technique on the internet, I think Baghera has a vacuum somewhere..." She hastily bats his hands away, shaking her head vigorously.

"Ok, ok... Maybe I can make a knot?" The look she gives him is even more affronted. She points to herself, before turning back to the mirror, another hair tie in her hand. It takes her a full minute of battle, but soon enough her light hair is tied into a sloppy ponytail.

Her right hand leaves her mouth before she raises the two of them and brings them down to her chest. 'Good night.'

He inclines his head in kind. He flicks out the light switch, and suddenly dozens of little lights glow in the darkness. He can see the look of amazement on her face, his eyes not needing any light to see, and he tries not to feel smug about it. She seems to fall asleep fast, clutching her green mess of yarn, and Antoine settles to wait for the others to return.

Well, for Baghera and Etoiles at least, Aypierre probably only coming back tomorrow, the engineer liking to sleep unseen, when he sleeps at all. It is Etoiles who returns home first, the smell of ashes and fire following his steps.

"Hey." He turns to answer Antoine's greeting, but chokes before any words get out. "The fuck?"

He doesn't say anything, confused. Etoiles gestures to his own face. "You got. You got something on your..." It hits him.

"Oh yeah." He doesn't bother developing, knowing it'll only annoy him further. It doesn't miss, and Etoiles kicks his foot on the way to the kitchen. "What's the deal?"

He shrugs. "I did something with Pomme. Put up stars on the ceiling."

The sparkles of laughter in the other's eyes get brighter. "Look at you! Le daron." His rolling eyes go unseen, but not unnoticed.

"Please. You're the one who obsessed over the best brand of clothes she'd wear."

Etoiles puffs up defensively. "She needs the best gear! I won't be seen with a kid who gets her clothes cut up by the slightest breeze!" He grumbles under his breath. "I hope Baghera listened to what I told her..."

"You fucking nerd. 'The best gear', what are we, ninja?" It's enough to get him a chuckle.

Etoiles melts into the couch, sipping his drink. "Anyway, how was it with our dearest kid?"

"I think she liked it."

Etoiles smiles. "Of course she liked it, you're the best."

Antoine flings a cushion at him, careful not to spill the other's drink. (Baghera will kill them if they stain the couch.) "Stop hyping me up, idiot."

It immediately sets him off. "What? What? I can't cheer on my friends? I can't tell them they're great? I just go fuck myself then, that's what you're saying? I can't say to you how great you are? That you have a nice cock?"

Antoine snickers. "Yeah, nice cock bro." The door cuts their bickering short. "I'm home!" Baghera starts to yell, before remembering Pomme is probably sleeping. "Oh fuck." Her voice sounds strained, and the tiredness is clear on her face. "Hey guys."

They wave half-heartedly from the couch. She takes out her shoes, before choking in the same manner Etoiles did. "Antoine!?"

He groans. "Not you too..."

Etoiles lifts his head from the couch. "It's for me. We're married now, something my people do. Sorry, you missed the ceremony."

'Your people?' Baghera mutters under her breath, as Antoine shoves an elbow into Etoiles unprotected side. "Shut up, you cucumber. It's Pomme's fault. Besides, if I married you," He looks pointedly at Etoiles, still wheezing. "I wouldn't have a ceremony. Too ugly to show my friends I'm afraid."

Baghera ignores their following fight with a practiced ease. "Ohhh so you got along with Pominette?"

He dodges a cushion to his face before answering. "She's a cool kid."

Their fight gets interrupted as someone throws themselves onto the couch, flattening both of them. "Ah Ah! You're getting attached, you cold-hearted cereal box!"

He hisses when her knee gets too close to his head. "I'm not heartless."

She pats his shoulder condescendingly. "I know, I know." She sniffs the air. "Wait a second, why does it smell like smoke? Did you try to cook again?"

Etoiles speaks up, smothered against the fabric. "No, that's me. Pac wanted me to try something out with him and Mike and it went Boom." He mimes the explosion, giggling to himself. Baghera's eyes lit up. "Oooh, was it dangerous?"

"Very." Etoiles answers, and they both laugh like the adrenaline junkie they are.

"And you? Is Slime doing good?" She winces. "Ended up crying all over the mic in the middle of singing a remixed song about his daughter... But then we sang for like, three more hours and it was great! I probably won't have much voice tomorrow though..."

"Nice. Did he end up finding his bones? I remember him searching for them a week ago. A radius and two ribs I think?"

Baghera and Etoiles look at him. "That was a bit, wasn't it?" Antoine blinks. "Oh. Of course yeah." He carefully doesn't mention the way his hand sank into their neighbor's skin the last time they met.

"So, what did you do?"

The full night comes as he begins to explain his day. (Minus some parts, of course. He's not an idiot.)

-

It is half past three when whimpers warn him of a nightmare to come. He settles back into a physical form, previously busy mapping out the atoms buzzing inside the potted plant Baghera keeps around. It's Pomme, unsurprisingly.

(Not to say Baghera and occasionally the others don't have nightmares. They are just more experienced in keeping themselves quiet. All of them have secrets, dug deep inside their skin. It makes it easier, four silent shapes sharing a cup of tea together in the early hours.)

The door to her room is creaked open, and he quietly looks through the cracks. She is half-awake, hyperventilating in the dark, tears shining in the soft glow of artificial stars.

He stands, and discovers a new emotion: the feeling of being powerless. She looks tiny, and so, so pale. (He would have had no qualms, a few years ago. Would have sent tinier kids into the flames with less than a thought. But he grew, and in turn, so did his stupid newborn heart.)

He raises his hand, an aborted tentative to open the door, and her sharp eyes flicker to his silhouette, standing in the hallway. He braces himself for the fear that's sure to follow, no doubt a terrifying sight, but Pomme only sighs in relief.

Please, she mouths, and Antoine finds himself entering her room. It's a bit of an ordeal, fitting his body down to the floor next to her bed. "It's okay." He whispers when she settles back into the bed. Tightly, she grips two of his fingers into her little hands, before resting her gaze on the galaxy above them. The stars reflect into her mismatched eyes, a show of comets and light, and Antoine watches as her eyelids flutter shut. The quick quick rhythm of her chest slowly changes into the deep heavy breaths of sleep, and Antoine stands vigil at her side.

It's alright. He doesn't have much to do during the night anyway.

Easy to love, uh. He gets the feeling the second part might be a bit harder than he thought.

(He's never been good at letting things go.)

Chapter Text

The days trickle on, and before they know it they've already run out of videos to queue. Their group used to do monthly updates, before Kameto joined them and set the pace for weekly videos instead. Now, one Kameto short, they're considering getting back to the old rhythm.

"It's probably better since we have Pomme." Baghera interjects as they all look at the child they've taken to call part of their mismatched family.

"Right. Not like we're depending on it to make money."

She rolls her eyes. "Pull the other one, I know about your shady jobs Etoiles."

"Shady?" He puffs up, sounding outraged. "There's nothing shady about what I do!"

Far from intimidated, Baghera snorts. "So that 'bodyguard' stuff last month that was...?"

A lopsided smile answers her. Antoine rises up from his seat to give Pomme her afternoon snacks. She's been doodling for the past hour, drawing some weirdly shaped beast, and they've quite happily left her to her own devices. Done? She signs, and Antoine shakes his head. Silly they are, those friends of his, arguing since the end of their meal.

When Antoine finally refocuses on the matter, it's to realize they've agreed to go back to the old ways, and they've even selected the next location. (Different than the list given to them before Pomme, these places no doubts under watch.)

"So tomorrow, right?" Etoiles buzzes with excitement at finally getting some action.

Baghera nods, pleased they agreed. It's Antoine who brings them back to awareness. "What about Pomme?"

Aypierre furrows his brows. "What about her?"

"What are we gonna do with her?"

Baghera cuts through Aypierre's protests that 'she'd be perfectly fine alone, what do you mean?', gasping. "Oh shit. Can we get a babysitter?"

Etoiles laughs, a disbelieving look on his face. "Et comment tu veux qu'on lui explique? Yes, hello this is a dead child we've been keeping around, yeah don't worry she can probably crash the house on you if you startle her."

The thought makes him smile, and he quickly ducks to avoid the pencil thrown Etoiles' way. The other gasps, fake hurt in his eyes as Pomme stares him down, her arms crossed. She's been more and more affirmed lately, finally shedding her quiet front to let the stubborn fire inside of her burn. (If she'd truly been this shy and undecided kid, she would not have gotten away, of that Antoine is sure. It takes a great amount of will to escape, and he's glad the others are finally able to see Pomme the way she's meant to be.)

Etoiles grumbles, setting down the red pencil on the table with a click. "Sorry, sorry." She sits back, satisfied. "You'd just accidentally break all the windows in the house." This time, no sorry can save him when the tiny child unleashes her wrath, throwing herself at him with all her might.

When the calm is brought back to the living room, Baghera stands, hands on her hips. "We can't leave her alone for two days."

Aypierre still looks a bit puzzled. "Why not?"

"What if the guys after her come back?"

Antoine doesn't really see the problem with the situation. "We just take her with us."

The look Baghera sends him is scalding. "Take her to haunted houses with angry ghosts?"

Etoiles laughs. "What are they gonna do, kill her?" Pomme shivers, sudden anxiety flooding her face. "Don't worry I'll protect you, it's chill." There's a hidden seriousness to his tone, and Antoine knows it's not an empty promise.

Baghera remains unconviced, eyes going back and forth between Etoiles and Pomme. "She'll be alright." Antoine says, perhaps a touch too sharp. There's still something like a grudge resting in him, ever since the blonde woman forbade him from listening to the white noises of the radio, saying it would set a bad example for Pomme. (The static in between channels 8 and 9 is the best, just on the right side of crunchy. Baghera didn't bother listening to his explanations, just stating that a grown man sitting still for hours in front of the radio playing no real songs was weird.)

There's a second of silence, but Baghera finally concedes with a sigh. "Okay, sure." He sends a tendril of -warmth calm fine- to Pomme, who carefully relaxes the tense set of her shoulders. She tries to prod back, but does it a bit too heavily, sending the lightbulb over them spinning. With a sheepish look on her face, she goes back to her pencils.

-

The morning greets them harshly, save for Aypierre and Antoine, the former sipping on his coffee cup as he prepares the cameras, and the latter having not slept at all.

(Pomme's sleep has been getting better lately, and he can finally go back to his nightly roaming. The neighborhood is so pretty, three hundred feet above. He reminds himself to take Pomme, when the Bear and its companions disappear.)

They're almost ready to go when Baghera ducks under the window with a curse, gesturing at Pomme to do the same. "Fuck. There's one of the guys outside."

Antoine glances through the curtains. Indeed, a man wearing a disgusting amount of white is sat casually on a bench, coincidentally right in front of their door. The only hint of something amiss is when his eyes come up to the face. It's blurry, getting blurrier the longer he tries to stare at him, and if Antoine wasn't... what he is, he wouldn't know the blur is a facade to cover the nothingness hidden underneath. "You can call them by their real names, you know."

Baghera raises an eyebrow. "What."

"... The Federation? They're not the snake guy, saying their name won't summon them to us."

She stares back, as if confused. Shit, did he get the reference wrong? Aypierre pipes up. "I prefer to call them the Feds, sounds cuter."

The tense atmosphere clears out when Baghera takes a step back and raises her hands, trying to make sense of the situation. "Hang on, are you trying to tell me you know who's been tracking Pomme?"

"You don't?"

Baghera pinches the bridge of her nose. "Guys, what the fuck."

The smile on Aypierre's face has a bit of an edge. "They're the ones I sell my wine to."

Pomme stumbles, eyes wide as she looks at Pierre. He winces, but does not try to apologize. "Money is money." It does not seem to help the paleness of her face. "I won't sell them information." A smile, so cold it hurts. "My price would be too high."

If Pomme looks appeased at that, it does nothing to abate Baghera's disarray. "Ok, I'm gonna have to ask for a timeout, does anybody have any more secrets to share or...?" They all stay silent as she visibly tries to reign in her need to commit murder. "Right. Keeping that for later, what do we do about the... Federation?"

"Pomme can hide inside one of our bags." Antoine looks at the tiny backpack they carry around, before turning to Pomme, who is a not-so-tiny child, and makes a split decision. "I can hide her under my cloak."

They all look at him. "Your... cloak?" He stays still, watching them frown and try to make sense of what he's wearing. It's unassuming at first, a simple brown cloth thrown over his tall frame, but the longer one stares, the fuzzier it becomes. Details can't be understood, each thread a labyrinth on its own, and often even Antoine can't make out the exact look of what he's wearing. It might have two pockets, might have none. Might be one full shape, or might have a zipper in the middle. No one knows, least of all the cloak itself.

"She'll be okay."

"Right." Baghera nods to herself. "Ok, everyone, let's pack this shit up."

When they're done, loading their bags into the cars and waiting for Antoine and Pomme, he kneels at her side. She looks at him, fingers tight on the straps of her backpack.

"Ready?" She nods, shuffling closer to him. "I'm gonna lift you up, but you have to close your eyes." He stresses the last part greatly, for once telling the plain truth. Her fingers curl. Yes She firmly closes her eyes before blindly reaching up to him. He picks her up, willing his body -stay corporal here real warm-. Fitting her under the cloak is a small affair, and soon they're getting into the car.

Aypierre is driving this time, Baghera in the passenger seat (She is wearing the ugliest hat Antoine has ever seen, all bright yellow and splashes of pink. 'I'm respecting a promise' she winked and Pomme giggled in the back.) and the rest of them squished behind.

Right when they're about to leave town, Etoiles orders Aypierre to slow down, rolling down his window. Outside, on the sidewalk, Roier turns to them. "Roier!" Etoiles sticks his head out the window while Pomme dives behind Antoine.

"Oh hey man." There's a smile on his face, but his jaws stay clenched. There's been an anger brewing around town, growing with each missing child. Bobby was the latest, but he might be the loudest one yet. Antoine knows the neighborhood is talking, setting up an organization of some kind. After all, the police officers all wear white, and the parents are not blind.

"How are you doing my broo, still busy being the GOAT?" Roier laughs, a hard line to his shoulders, and shakes his head. "No, no, the married life eh?" They can all guess which case Cellbit is working on.

Etoiles nods. "If you need me, you know I'll be there."

"I know, I know. I go out my window and I scream," His face transforms into fake distress, wide eyes and downward lips. "Ohh Etoiles! I need a warrior! Very strong! Ayúdame!"

The aforementioned warrior snorts. "Shut up asshole." He rolls the window back up before Roier can answer in kind.

The house in itself is not that bad. It's a weak entity, barely able to move a cup, and they all take turns teaching Pomme how to do a successful hunt. She laughs, staying close to Etoiles in case of danger, and overall finds their job 'really cool' which isn't a surprise.

It goes well, and they decide to take her again next time they do it. Two weeks later, they go to the second one. It's empty, left behind to rot, and so they have to do a third in order to get a new video up and coming.

This one is alright too, Pomme accidentally drops a rusty chandelier on the poor ghost's head, to its greatest surprise. She huffs in annoyance as Etoiles teases her. 'Startled me.'

It's days later, when they're standing in front of the fourth house that Antoine starts to worry. Four is a bad number, anxious drumming against the wall, one two three fo- stopping mid-knock because it's bad luck. Fourth of April, the milk spoils and the birds drop, it's always been this way, and Antoine is not set on ignoring what the world whispers.

He has a bad feeling about this, dirt running black against his feet and flowers wilting with every step.

-

Look. Etoiles is not an idiot. There's only so much he can brush aside before being forced to admit there is Something going on with Antoine, the kind that deserves a big old capital S. But truthfully, it's not really his problem.

Antoine and him, they're friends, and while his trust is easily gained, his loyalty is not. But even though he won't ask any questions, that doesn't mean he can't pick up on Antoine's mood while they're heading into the house. He looks a touch worried, and that's never a good sign. (He has felt it shifting, rows of bones and muscles hidden underneath the cloak. When no one's looking, Antoine moves like something sharp and ready to strike. When no one listens, his mouth sounds full of way too many teeth.)

But ah, he can't do anything about it now, so he just brings Pomme closer, ruffling her hair in passing, a laugh stuck in his throat when she stomps her foot on the ground.

The house looks ordinary, if a bit decrepit. Reddish vines crawl up the walls, pushing inside through the broken windows. They step in and feel it: there's someone there, and they're not happy to be disturbed.

Pomme has her hand on his shirt, iron grip twisting the white fabric, and she slowly signs to him. Danger. He nods back at her.

A heavy piece of wood falls a few inches short of Aypierre's feet, and they all silently exchange a glance. 'Is it worth it?' Baghera wordlessly questions him, and he shrugs, looking to his left where Antoine is standing. Imperceptibly, his head tips, and Etoiles motions for the whole thing to continue. He'll protect them, whatever happens, and even more so with Antoine at his back.

He is the first one to step into the living room, Pomme trailing behind him like a lost duckling. Antoine follows, spine set straight, and they all freeze when the door slams behind them as the house shifts.

Quick, because those kinds of decisions have to be, he shouts to Antoine. "Go after Bags and Pierre, I'll take Pomme!" He doesn't seem to acknowledge him, but Etoiles sees him blur and separate from them. Still tense, he brings Pomme behind him, focusing on the shape he can barely make out.

It's a strong one. He can instantly tell, the waves of energy and malicious intent taking up the space of the room. It's not something he's never fought, has won fights with much better odds, and a part of him shines at the opportunity of a good fight. He smiles, taking a step forward in excitement but-

Pomme is scared.

He can feel her shaking, staring anxiously at the prospect of violence, and Etoiles stops mid-step. The ghost doesn't do him the kindness of stopping though, and he has to roll away from the metal rod stabbing the ground where he just was a second ago.

"Stay back." He instructs Pomme, eyes never leaving his snarling opponent. The objective changes, from filming a nice video to survive and make sure all of them get out of here in one piece, and Etoiles adapts with it.

The ghost swings first, its hands morphing into sharp flickering claws and he dodges to the left, swinging his fist straight to its jaw. Disgustingly enough, it detaches and dissolves into nothingness, its energy mostly spent on maintaining its claws deadly. First blood.

It doesn't falter, steps closer to Etoiles, and strikes. It's close enough that he can't dodge, and he's forced to draw his knife to deflect, feeling the shock reverberate in his arm. He grits his teeth and pushes back, slamming one foot into its knees.

The ghost wobbles, but before Etoiles can deal the final hit, a stray piece of wood flies straight to his head, and the only thing he can do is twist his body out of the way with a curse. It's a small thing, a tiny cut on his cheek letting out a few drops of blood but behind him, Pomme gasps in horror.

Etoiles makes a mistake. It's only a fraction of a second, a turn of his head toward the child he aims to protect, but the ghost follows his gaze and screams in delight as he finds Etoiles' weakness.

Time slows down, a succession of events he is too slow to stop, and a metal rod heads straight to Pomme.

Etoiles is a warrior. He'll tell you as such, smiling over whatever silly things you're talking about. Etoiles is a warrior, but first and foremost, he is a protector. And perhaps, a bit of a father as well.

It hurts.

A scream behind him, horrified.

Fuck it hurts.

The pain doesn't stop him from sending his knife flying, lodging itself into the head of the ghost and he laughs, a wet rattle coming from his lungs.

Etoiles goes down fighting.

It's a sea of colors, swimming in and out of his vision as he slides to the ground, metal embedded in his chest. Pomme is at his side in an instant, eyes wide as she sees the red stain steadily growing on his clothes.

"Holy shit." He rasps, feeling the white-hot pain reach his brain, limbs going numb as if to protest the agony. "Don't-" A wet cough, iron on his lips. "Don't tell your mom I said that."

Something wet falls on his face, and he abruptly realizes Pomme is crying, desperately pressing on his wound to stop the bleeding.

"Call- Fuck!" She presses a little too strong, and it makes his whole body jolt, trying to escape the never-ending pain. "Call Antoine."

She blinks, as if caught in a trance, before her eyes glow. He can see it in her eyes, the determination to stay by his side.

The house shudders.

The house shudders and suddenly Antoine is here. It's a quiet thing, his sudden appearance, and Etoiles would never have caught it if the atmosphere didn't turn impossibly heavy.

"What happened." It's flat, without any emotions behind it, and Etoiles can see him get closer, still not making any sound aside from his voice. Pomme shakes her head, almost hysteric, and Antoine gestures to the door. "Pomme. Go see Aypierre, and tell him to call an ambulance. You remember the sign right?"

She runs out the door without answering.

Etoiles chuckles, an odd gurgle to his voice. "She's brave." Antoine kneels next to him, assessing the situation. His vision is going black, but he manages to catch the deep frown on the cardboard box. "That bad?"

"You'll be fine." He sounds uncertain. It's a bad sign. Antoine is usually always so sure of all kinds of things, but Etoiles cannot bring himself to care about it when his lungs feel like they're full of lead.

"Yeahh it's-" His words slur and the sentence he was trying to pull together escapes him, butterflies running in the wind. "It's fine."

A hand grips his own, so tight it hurts. "An ambulance is coming. You're not gonna die." His tone is still flat, but Etoiles can hear the tiniest hint of panic creeping up inside. He lets out a painful wheeze. "Yeah, m'n. Twas a shit fight."

Antoine says something else, but the ringing in his ear is so loud he doesn't hear anything at all, cold spreading to his whole body.

A drowsy blink, then two, and it becomes very hard to keep his eyes open. He can feel Antoine shaking him, electricity forced into his body as someone shouts at him to stay awake, sounding far away.

His world fades to black, sluggish heart pumping an unsteady rhythm, and he resolves himself to his fate when a voice cuts through the blinding pain and the cold, so sharp it could cut a stone.

"No."

There's something inside of his chest. A presence so foreign his body screams at him to get it out, but Etoiles barely has the strength to breathe, let alone fight this overwhelming thing squeezing its hand around his heart. 'Beat' The thing orders his heart, and weakly, it complies.

It goes through his arteries, his capillaries and his veins, forcing the flesh to mend where it fell apart. Goes to his lungs and demands 'breathe'. It's not painless. Far from it, an excruciating explosion of pain, nerves set ablaze and screaming.

It feels like getting shocked by a thousand volts every millisecond, and if he had the strength he'd scream, but all he can do is gasp as Antoine continues to press his hands on his chest.

His friend looks -otherwordly galaxy nebula dark INHUMAN- and Etoiles' eyes can't focus on him, like he is made of jagged edges, uneven cuts into the fabric of the universe.

His body burns and lives through a will not his own, and the last thing Etoiles feels is the odd taste of static on his tongue.

(He is unconscious, limp body handed away to the paramedics, and so he does not see the worried glance Pomme sends Antoine, safely held inside the cover of Baghera's arms. He is the only one to go with the ambulance, hands still clenched into Etoiles shirt, and the three of them wordlessly slide into the car to follow it to the hospital.

Once they're gone, the house falls apart. It was an old thing, the neighbors will say, old things tend to break just like that.)

-

It's the beeping that wakes him up. Not the smell of antiseptic or the numerous sounds a hospital can make no, it's the electric beep that makes him open his eyes. When you have a chronic disease, you get used to the white and the nurses and the doctors and the needles going into your skin, but Etoiles' case is usually not dire enough to require constant monitoring of his heartbeat.

The ceiling is white, neon lights burning into his unguarded retinas, and he groans, mouth full of cotton.

"Thanks fuck you're awake." He recognizes Baghera's voice, and blinks through the confusion. There was the house, and Pomme and- Oh.

Slowly, his hand reaches his chest, pressing against the tight bandages wrapped around it. Oh yeah, the heart monitor definitely makes more sense. He tries to speak but his throat gives up halfway through as a glass of water is thrust into his hand.

"The doctors said you could drink water, if you do it slowly."

"Thanks." He croaks out, feeling medically dulled pain explodes in his chest.

"I'll call the nurse hang on." As Baghera focuses on the different buttons around him, he turns to Antoine.

"How long...?"

His 'face' doesn't change from its neutral state. "Three days." Etoiles sighs. "And Pomme?"

Antoine relaxes a bit, going from ramrod straight to only a bit tense. "She's with Aypierre back at the house. We couldn't risk her waiting in the hospital all day."

He nods and settles back carefully against the bed. Baghera is quick to take the lead. "Someone should be coming soon, are you feeling alright? We were worried."

The question makes him stop and assess his state. Overall, he aches. The morphine does its job, taking the edge away, but the pain is still here, hiding in the crevices of his chest. His heartbeat is back to normal, but it feels... weird. Like there's some kind of residue settled in there, something foreign. He glances at Antoine, who's obstinately staring at the wall in front of him. "I'm good. The best I've been actually. Might actually go get that fight Phil promised me."

She snorts. "Of course. Not like-" Her eyes meet his own, and she startles. "Uh." There's a frown on her face as she examines Etoiles. He quirks an eyebrow. "What, did you get blinded by my ugliness? You think I'm ugly?"

She doesn't smile. "It's... probably nothing?" The end of her sentence is sped up, and she mutters the rest of it under her breath. Antoine's head turns to stare at her, so fast they all hear the bones creak with a wince. "What?"

She draws back, looking put off by Antoine's sudden interest. The silence lasts a touch too long, and Etoiles puts an end to it. "So?"

"It's just- Your eyes- for a second it looked like they had stars in them." She laughs nervously. "But also I stayed in your room for like the past three days so I'm probably starting to hallucinate stuff and shit." The light flickers, once, twice and Antoine stays silent.

"Well you know me, my mother didn't name me Etoiles for nothing."

"I'm pretty sure you chose-" They get interrupted when a young woman enters the room. Antoine awkwardly shuffles back while Baghera leaves the space at his side. The woman smiles at him. "Hello. My name is Doctor Brown, I'll be the one assigned to you during your stay here."

"Hello."

She steps closer to him, uncovering the bandages. As she checks on his wounds, a puckered red line of stitches across his chest, she speaks. "You had a hemopneumothorax, which basically means your left lung collapsed on itself and your pleural cavity filled up with blood and air." The recovery process seems to be deemed enough in her eyes, and she starts to wrap it up again. "The metal bar also grazed your heart, which caused a significant amount of distress to it, so we'll have to monitor it closely."

She stands up, still clinically recounting his condition. "What I'm worried about right now is infection. Your friends told us you had type 1 diabetes, we did some testing to confirm it, but still, is that right?"

He nods. "Good. Unfortunately, it does increase your chances of infections, and we observed some anomalies on your ECG, nothing concerning but we'd like to monitor you here over the week if you agree to it."

"Ah." Always his luck, his shitty body giving up on him. "I guess."

She smiles and pauses in her preparation for a second. "To be honest with you, you were lucky. Your condition was exceptionally stable, for the traumatic injury you've sustained, and you should expect a full recovery in a month or two, if you respect your limits." It's said sweetly, but Etoiles can sense the underlying order behind it.

He salutes. "Thank you, thank you." She inclines her head to him before leaving, and he's left alone with Baghera and Antoine. Lucky, uh.

Hearing the doctor mechanically describe what happened to him made Baghera a bit pale, and Etoiles doesn't miss the way Antoine's hands are clenched around the plastic chair.

"Don't worry, it's fineee, you know me, I'm undefeatable."

Baghera regains a bit of color. "I saw Pomme beat your ass in Monopoly three times back to back last week."

He sputters. "I was letting her win!"

"Oh totally, that's why you threw yourself on the ground and asked her to kill you while you still had some honor left."

He goes to point at her, outraged, but the sudden move pulls a bit too strongly on his stitches and he winces.

She softens, resting her hand on his. "You're doing good, right?"

The smile on his face doesn't seem forced, because it simply isn't. Yes, he's in pain, and yes the situation sucks but he's still alive, and his friends are well. Doesn't mean he will ever admit it out loud though, and he resolves himself to complain as often as he can while they still pity him enough to not strangle him with his pillow.

Well, his friends are mostly fine. Antoine hasn't cut in the conversation with a dry sarcastic sentence yet, and he doesn't seem to move at all, but he doesn't have a single scratch on him and that ink-black mouth of his is quirked in a small smile, so he doesn't worry that much.

Baghera gasps, getting out her phone in a hurry. "Shit, I need to call Pierre and tell him it's okay to bring Pomme." She slips out the door swiftly, her blonde hair barely avoiding getting stuck when it slams shut behind her. Two seconds later, she pops back in with a sheepish smile. "Uh, I'll get snacks too, want anything?"

The two of them shake their head, and the door slams once more, leaving them in silence. Etoiles stares at Antoine. "So?"

A tilt of his head, impassive. "So?"

He snorts. "Don't try to gaslight me asshole."

Antoine sighs before melting into the blue plastic chair he was previously holding. "I panicked." Understatement of the century.

"Does your version of panic often include shoving your ghostly hands inside my chest to make my heart beat or I'm just special like that?"

The smile on his cardboard box gets a bit wider. "The specialest."

Etoiles rolls his eyes before continuing, tone light. "The stars. Is that you?" The truth is, he doesn't really care that much. Sure that might be a bit weird, but Antoine is his friend, and the way his shoulders hunch in embarrassment is telling enough.

Antoine is not used to honesty. Oh, he tells the truth plenty, but being honest is a different thing. Etoiles doesn't blame him. Life gets hard sometimes, no matter what you are.

"I... J'ai déconné un peu." His cloak wraps tight around him, moving freely now that it knows not to hide. "I changed you. Just a bit. Not enough to matter."

Antoine's meaning of mattering is probably a little bit different than his own, but that's alright. Fights need you to be adaptable, and Etoiles has won his fair share.

Antoine continues. "I mean, I think you could see my face now, for at least a few seconds before you start to go mad and claw your eyes out so." He shrugs, and Etoiles grins at seeing his friend go back to bone-dry remarks.

"I don't need to see it, man. Too ugly for me I don't need any more injuries."

Antoine playfully (and carefully) punches him in the arm. Etoiles sobers up for a minute. "But hey. If you need me to help with whatever, I'm here."

The other smiles wistfully. "It's alright. I'll just take your firstborn in exchange for my help in your dumb fight."

The indignation is immediate. "Your help in the fight?? It was already done when you showed up!"

"Oh for sure, so your version of winning includes laying on the ground in a puddle of your own blood?"

"What the fuck? You insult me? You come to the hospital where I'm mortally wounded and you spit in my face?"

The door creaks open and they both freeze as a mocking voice stops their bickering. "Are we interrupting something?"

Antoine steps back, surprised. "Damn, that was quick. How many police officers did you run over?"

A laugh answers him as Pomme runs into the room, her whiteboard with a huge 'ETOILES' on it waved excitedly in the air. "Nah, we were waiting in the parking lot. Had a feeling it would today."

Pomme is quick to side-hug him, a relieved sigh escaping her as she watches him laugh. 'Are you okay?' She signs, curling two of her fingers on both hands.

"I'm good, I'm good you little shit." Baghera is back just in time to hear him, and she hisses 'Etoiles!'.

Pomme laughs, a tiny thing, and shakes her head.

"And you, you're doing fine? Trying to survive the shame of me being a loser?" He ignores Antoine's muttered 'we survive it every day'.

She rolls her eyes, but something in them hardens. 'It was scary. I felt petrified when he stabbed you.' He tries to speak but she cuts him off, whiteboard shoved into his face. She looks at him, and there's fire in her eyes. 'I never want that to happen again.' A quick brush of the eraser and the squeak of the pen on the white surface. None of them speak, feeling the weight of the moment. 'I need you to teach me. I need to protect.'

Etoiles chuckles, taken aback, and ruffles her hair as he tries not to let the affection slip into his tone. "Ça c'est ma gamine."

Chapter Text

A few days after Etoiles got back home - complaining the whole way that he didn't have to be coddled so much - there's a knock on their door.

Antoine snaps his head from where he's sprawled on the couch, carefully looking up on his phone the best way to acquire natural dirt that hasn't been tainted by pollution yet, and curses when his concentration slips and the whole phone goes dark. "Fuck." He mutters, throwing it Aypierre's way. (He's really close to giving up on the technological aspect of this century, but if someone can figure out a way to make them compatible it's Pierre.)

"Did anyone order something?" Baghera asks. Her cheeks are still painted bright pink from Pomme's earlier attempt at doing makeup. It had derailed halfway through, and Antoine can see little flowers doodled in eyeliner. They all shake their head negatively.

Slowly, with the right amount of suspicion for someone that had a ghost possibly lab experiment daughter, Baghera opens the door. Antoine can only see a hint of white and purple before he hears her loudly exclaim. "Oh. I have to... go to the toilets. Urgently" She slams the door before turning to them. If she had wings, they'd be puffed out in a panic, feathers sticking in all directions - but that's a silly idea, because why would she? "It's Kameto." She hisses, and Antoine can feel his non-existent heart miss a beat.

Pomme.

She's upstairs right now, changing out of her make-up stained clothes, and he wastes no time getting to her - letting his form play fast and loose with the number of limbs a human can have.

Pomme is already frowning, looking at him like she wants nothing more than to hide inside his arms again, and despite the urgency that single look makes him stop. She trusts him. It makes something inside him twist - she's still so young, baby fat cheeks and fingers so tiny they can barely hold his hand. She doesn't know it, but she's driving a knife into the unsteady place he calls his soul. Faced with the possibility of losing her, he realizes that he'd make himself a heart if she asked. He'd make a heart and let it bleed if it meant she would be happy.

She trusts him with her whole heart, and Antoine is not sure she should.

They don't have time. He hears the others frantically cleaning the place up, erasing all traces of Pomme's presence, and they should be doing the same here yesterday. "Kameto is here." He doesn't bother sugarcoating it. "We need to hide everything."

Her eyes get big, pupils so shrunk they look like tiny dots lost in a sea of red and blue.

Truly, there isn't that much to hide. They haven't had the opportunity to buy her that much stuff, and all her clothes just get shoved inside Baghera's closet. (Which is. Really interesting, to say the least.)

Downstairs, he hears the sound of their door creaking open, and the loud exclamation of "Kamel, my bro!" that Etoiles shouts a little bit too loud to only be a greeting. The warning gets received and with one last look around the room, Antoine wordlessly opens his coat. "Whatever happens, don't open your eyes." He warns her again.

It's difficult - everything that is him, hungry stars and sharp-toothed nebulae, everything that is him seethes to be constrained in such a way. But he might be a collection of things, of feelings and darkness so black it makes closing your eyes a relief, but he is most of all him, and he's finally coming around the fact that there is no part of his patchwork body that doesn't love this tiny spitfire he calls his kid.

Finally, they hear three voices coming up the stairs. No Aypierre. Lazy bastard probably couldn't be bothered to help then. (Stretching his hearing just the tiniest bit, Antoine can hear the telltale noise of a keyboard clicking. It sounds vicious.)

"-have been staying in Baghera's room anyways, it does her good to sleep on the couch like the lowly rest of us."

"You asshole! It is not my fault you're basically homel-"

"Whattt! You're insulting the gravelly wounded here! Are you saying you wished I had died back in the house? You want me to sleep on the floor and die?" Antoine smiles, just a tad.

The noises get closer, until a hand pushes the door of Pomme's room with a nonchalant "Wasn't this your room?" Kameto enters it before they can call him back.

Inside, Antoine stays very, very still. He doesn't try to have a conversation with Kameto. Doesn't need to. He just tilts his side to the side, making it very clear which sides he's picked. The look the other gives him is cold. Did he ever care?

Pomme's arms are impossibly tight around him - they're shaking, he realizes, and he can't even hug her back.

Later, he'll look back at this moment and see it in vivid detail, milliseconds of danger playing again and again. When Kameto turns to leave, his eyes flicker up, just once. It's enough. He looks up and sees the galaxy of cheap plastic stars clumsily glued to the ceiling. "That's new."

"It's a joke. For Etoiles." Antoine's not even sure he uses his laryngeal cords to speak. Behind Kameto, he can see Baghera panics. It's too late: the other knows. She jams Etoiles in the side, immediately making him double over in pain - the fearful white of her eyes only highlights the smeared makeup on her face. "Oh no, it looks like he bled through the bandages."

She starts to not so gently lead him out to the stairway. "Sorry, I guess we'll have to call it a day." Kameto doesn't protest, which is damning in itself. There's no need to maintain the charade.

Antoine takes hold of the situation. Pomme: quietly hyperventilating in his arms, Etoiles: digging his nails into the wall in an effort not to fall, Him: boiling from the inside with something he cannot name. "Do you-" Etoiles chokes, pale and something red staining his shirt. "You think he left?"

It takes a second to extend his attention to the house as a whole, counting familiar heartbeats and finally feeling that foreign presence fade away. "Your friend is gone." He doesn't mean to sound accusative, but he knows Kameto and Etoiles used to run deep, and he can't quite erase it out of his teeth.

"Antoine," He starts but never gets to finish because Pomme bursts out of Antoine's coat in a flurry of worried signs.

Soon enough, Etoiles' bandages are changed, Pomme's cheeks dry, and Antoine sees the same expression reflected on all their faces when they finally make it downstairs: doom.

"We need to move out." Baghera says, looking both hunted and haunted by something none of them can see.

"You need to move out," Pierre nonchalantly retorts, face deceptively flat. "I didn't live here last time I checked."

"Oh? Then you'd be okay being left behind with your machines then?" Stress makes them brittle, tiny humans forced to dance to the whims of an invisible threat - bones creaking from the pressure, teeth bared from rage. Antoine is losing all that he has come to love and finds himself at the heart of the maelstrom. (Regrets taste bitter, cyanide pill on his tongue - guilt tastes twice as bad.) "Pomme needs to move out at least."

At that, they all nod in agreement.

-

They start to get watched - or well, much more than usual. "They're here again." Etoiles casually slides to him from where Antoine had encroached himself in the attic - for all his time being big, he liked to get small too, amid cobwebs and dusty wood. Ever since the day they don't refer to as anything else but 'Etoiles' big L', the other had the uncanny ability to find him by instinct. In the darkness of the room, his eyes almost seem to glow.

"What do you want me to do about it?" Pomme hadn't been able to go out in days, and the crestfallen expression on her face always make his cardboard mouth turn upside down.

"Nothing," He snorts. "Just thought I'd let you know." There's a silence. "Antoine?"

"Hm?"

"You're my friend. I hope you know that." He's looking directly into his eyes, which is something Antoine appreciates. Most people see a cardboard box and let their eyes wander. Not Etoiles.

"Just friend?" He teases, trying to curb the possessiveness in his chest.

"Told you man, I'm married to the darkness." His smile is bright.

"Stop being Dark Sasuke, bouffon."

It feels good, bickering like they don't have the heavy clouds of worry hanging over their heads.

-

It's past midnight when they all reunite to discuss their next course of action. Moving out is easy to say, but much harder to put into place, especially at such short notice.

"I can find us a house." Aypierre says, no longer holding them at a distance. Antoine knows how much the other values his individuality - knows, deep down, where the hurt of it comes from - and seeing him use the word us is a relief. "Money is not that much of an issue."

Baghera lifts her head - bitten nails and pissed-off eyes. "I know, but these connards would track us."

"I can distract them." Etoiles suggest. "I have contacts." The situation is dire enough that they don't tease him, even though there is a 'the grandmas pack a mean punch?' sitting at the tip of his tongue.

"We need to get Pomme out of sight first. Does anyone have ideas?"

Pierre shrugs. "Why not ask Badboyhalo? He has a child too, I'm pretty sure he can take care of Pomme for a couple of days."

"Ohh Badboyhalo!" Etoiles perks up. "He is really good at fighting too!"

"We're not fighting him Etoiles, we're asking him to babysit."

"Have you seen Pomme? Every day with her is a fight!"

"You're just a loser that's different." Antoine interjects. Predictably, Etoiles sputters and cries in outrage. The few days of rest had done him good. The doctor had said a month or two, but she hadn't known the French Beast well enough. (Antoine had his heart in between his hands and ordered it to beat, to stay strong. It better not forget that.)

"And if he outs us to the Feds?"

"He wouldn't. Besides," Baghera smiles, far from kind. "I have dirt on him."

Antoine does too. Only, his is a different kind of dirty secret - all broken halo and ink-black skin, and something tells him their neighbor would very much prefer Baghera's kind of blackmailing.

"So it's resolved. We'll tell Pomme tomorrow, and take her to him in the afternoon."

They all agree, before scattering in the living room, back to pretending they're not all staying in the same place to feel better.

Antoine goes straight upstairs, to a door that has been left slightly ajar. "It's not polite to eavesdrop you know."

Pomme looks at him defiantly. "You're gonna tell on me?"

He snorts, ruffling her hair as he sits on the bed next to her. "No. You have a right to know, even if you're young. The world is dangerous, even if you close your eyes and pretend it doesn't exist."

She bites at her lips worryingly. "Am I gonna be safe one day?"

The sigh escapes his mouth almost involuntarily. "We'll try our best." Baghera would have said yes. Etoiles would have offered her his undying protection, told her 'you're already safe when I'm here'. Pierre would have reacted the closest to him, but he'd probably add a layer of nonchalance, of 'don't worry about it'. Antoine can only offer her the sharp-edged truth: sometimes adults didn't know.

"Besides, what is it you said? That you wanted to fight?" He smiles as she pouts at him. "Let's get you to bed young woman, and for real this time."

She complies easily enough. After brushing his cardboard to her forehead in the closest approximation to a kiss he can manage, he turns to her one last time on the way out. "Even if we can't keep you safe all the time, you're our daughter. Don't forget that hmm?"

'Goodnight' She sleepily signs, hands falling away from a second unintelligible sentence. It might have been an I love you

-

The Feds are watching the front door, which of course, makes it easier to sneak around the back. The only thing separating them from Badboyhalo's property is the thick green of his hedges. Etoiles' totally not a sword guys, it's just a big knife come on! cuts through it like butter.

Unfortunately, their neighbor is outside, and their arrival is greeted by a high screech. "My-" The word falters into an abrupt silence. His eyes are looking straight at Pomme.

"Well hello little one, I must admit your presence here is unexpected." His gaze flitters to them. "What's happening?"

"We need your help. Babysitting."

He lifts an eyebrow. "Is it the legal kind of babysitting?

"We would really have come to you if it was?"

"Excuse me?" Badboyhalo rises up. "I'm a perfectly qualified babysitter! Look at how well Dapper is doing!" The aforementioned child waves from where he's sitting, carefully putting together some sort of machine that has a lot of blades and spikes. "What the-" Antoine begins, and remembers halfway through how much the other despises swear words when the smell of sulfur intensifies, leaving him scrambling to find another word. "cut." He finishes lamely.

Pomme giggles from where she's half-hidden behind them. Badboyhalo's eyes soften. "I guess I can be convinced."

It's Aypierre's turn to speak. "Of course, if you don't agree to keep it a secret, you might find yourself in an... uncomfortable position."

"What? What are you gonna do?" His smile gets a little too wide. "Are you gonna try to kill me?" They all politely pretend they don't see the black pointed tail swooshing left and right behind him.

"Even worse," Baghera whispers conspiratorially. Badboyhalo leans towards her, breathless. "I'm gonna go to Ikea and tell them who's been stealing all their couches."

He reels back, paying no attention to Etoiles 'THAT'S what you had on him?!'. "Wh- What?? Who told you that? Is it Foolish? I bet it's Foolish. This guy just doesn't know how to tell the truth. It wasn't me!"

Watching a demon like him flail around is hilarious. Antoine decides to intervene. "Of course it's not you." He cuts through Badboyhalo's thank you "As long as you don't denounce us to anyone."

"I- What is this bullying? Accusing me of crimes I didn't commit!" Dapper springs up from where he's sat. "It's okay dad, you'll be sneakier next time." He doesn't wait for Badboyhalo's betrayed gasp, turning to Pomme almost immediately. "Do you want to see what I'm working on?" After one hesitant look at them, she takes his hand.

Once they're gone, their neighbor sobers up. "I won't tell, but what is going on here?"

"We're moving out." Baghera asserts. "We just need you to keep Pomme for a few days."

His white eyes get rounder. "You're leaving?"

Pierre scoffs. "Have you seen the neighborhood Bébou?"

Badboyhalo deflates. "Ah, yes... I didn't think we were able to leave though." They all wince in tandem - the people who had tried to leave their town hadn't met a very happy fate. "Listen," He continues. "All the parents, we made a sort of... group" It's obvious he is minding his words, eyes flickering over his shoulders in something not quite like nervosity. A being like him isn't something easily tethered - which makes the recent adoption of his son all the more suspicious. Their eyes meet in understanding.

"We'll join it if we come back." Baghera says, and Antoine doesn't miss the way her tongue stumbles over the word if - almost transforming it into a when.

It's hard to leave Pomme behind, if only for a few days, but it is necessary. (Antoine wonders, in between thoughts, at the baffling fact that this word is now part of his vocabulary. He doesn't need to breathe, has no heart to make beat, and yet the word imposes itself on him like it has all the right to, I want turning into I need right before his eyes. )

I want to be human he had thought all these years ago, cuckoo bird in their nest, and somehow it had crashed down the stairs to make itself a need. He needs, desperately, to be human enough.

Etoiles bumps against his shoulders, halfway to comfort. The void inside of him shifts - shrinks and softens, gaping maws becoming gentle skin - to accommodate the other's injuries. This ragtag group of idiots stains the very essence of him.

It feels dangerous.

-

The house looks terribly empty without a child to liven it up. She's having fun, probably, knowing to panic call Antoine if something goes out of control but still, the mood is nothing but morose as they get back inside.

Pierre had dipped again, but he can't blame him: Pomme's absence feels suffocating. "Want to help me pack?" Baghera proposes, shooting a glare into Etoiles' direction when the other perks up. "Not you idiot, do you want to reopen your wounds again?"

"You think a couple of boxes will defeat me?"

"I think my foot up your ass might, yeah."

Antoine cuts them both. "I'll leave you to it. I have someone to see." He passes the door without further words.

Outside, the faceless people avert their eyes.